• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Frontispiece
 The little Duchess and the...
 The Palio at Siena
 Jingle and Jangle
 Bingo buster and Beau
 The Swordmaker's son
 A fool's wit
 Eugene field
 Recollections of Eugene field
 Their hats
 A narrow escape
 His idea
 Sindbad, Smith & co.
 A sand-pile
 Poems by a child
 The story of Marco Polo
 A bunny romance
 The tricks of Torpedo-boats
 The very good friends
 The needle
 The thread
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover
 Spine






Title: St. Nicholas
ALL VOLUMES CITATION PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00314
 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: VID00314
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: oclc - 01764817
lccn - 04012675
 Related Items
Preceded by: Our young folks
Preceded by: Children's hour (Philadelphia, Penn.)
Preceded by: Little corporal
Preceded by: Schoolday magazine
Preceded by: Wide awake

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
        Front Cover 3
    Front Matter
        Front Matter
    Frontispiece
        Page 794
    The little Duchess and the lion-tamer
        Page 795
        Page 796
        Page 797
        Page 798
        Page 799
        Page 800
        Page 801
        Page 802
        Page 803
        Page 804
        Page 805
        Page 806
        Page 807
        Page 808
    The Palio at Siena
        Page 809
        Page 810
        Page 811
        Page 812
        Page 813
        Page 814
        Page 815
    Jingle and Jangle
        Page 816
    Bingo buster and Beau
        Page 817
    The Swordmaker's son
        Page 818
        Page 819
        Page 820
        Page 821
        Page 822
        Page 823
        Page 824
        Page 825
        Page 826
        Page 827
    A fool's wit
        Page 828
        Page 829
        Page 830
        Page 831
    Eugene field
        Page 832
        Page 833
        Page 834
        Page 835
        Page 836
    Recollections of Eugene field
        Page 837
        Page 838
        Page 839
    Their hats
        Page 840
    A narrow escape
        Page 841
    His idea
        Page 841
    Sindbad, Smith & co.
        Page 842
        Page 843
        Page 844
        Page 845
        Page 846
        Page 847
        Page 848
    A sand-pile
        Page 849
        Page 850
        Page 851
        Page 852
        Page 853
        Page 854
        Page 855
    Poems by a child
        Page 856
        Page 857
    The story of Marco Polo
        Page 858
        Page 859
        Page 860
        Page 861
    A bunny romance
        Page 862
        Page 863
    The tricks of Torpedo-boats
        Page 864
        Page 865
        Page 866
        Page 867
        Page 868
        Page 869
    The very good friends
        Page 870
        Page 871
    The needle
        Page 872
    The thread
        Page 873
        Page 874
    The letter-box
        Page 875
        Page 876
        Page 877
        Page 878
    The riddle-box
        Page 879
        Page 880
        Page 881
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
    Spine
        Spine
Full Text


























































































"THE CZAR TURNED IN HIS CHAIR, AND WATCHED HER."
(SEE PAGE 806.)


-9







i:


a
E..
p~~











NICHOLAS.


VOL. XXIII.


AUGUST, 1896.


BY FANNY LOCKE MACKENZIE.


THE little Duchess stood with her small sad
face pressed against the window-pane, looking
out into .the sunshine -her slim fingers closed
tightly around her crutches, her straight brows
drawn together. Outside in the garden the
little goldfish in the big fountain swam happily
to and fro. Svar, the great bloodhound, was
baying loudly; but she did not heed him; she
waited listlessly. Beside her stood the Grand
Duke Dimitri, her father, looking helplessly at
her. He was a tall man, the Grand Duke,
well over six feet; and he had as clear blue
eyes as his son Alexander.
They both were large and blonde, and a trifle
heavy; but the little Duchess was like her


French mother, small and dark, with great liquid
brown eyes, and a well-shaped little mouth.
The Grand Duke Dimitri Nasimoff was the
cousin of the Czar, and one of the richest nobles
in St. Petersburg. And the little Duchess was
the Czar's goddaughter, and she was named for
his favorite sister, Vera Sophia Maria Metternich
- a very long name for such a little girl. The
little Duchess had fallen when she was very
young, and broken her knee, and all of the
great surgeons in Russia had failed to make it
strong again, and she had to walk on crutches.
She was a brave little girl about her pain and
discomfort, and rarely spoke of it; but it seemed
to the Grand Duke that she grew sadder every


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


ST.


No. 10.


d







THE LITTLE DUCHESS AND THE LION-TAMER.


day, and he racked his brain to think of some
way to cheer her. Miss Sutton, her kind Eng-


"'I FIND IT SO VERY DULL,' SAID THE LITTLE DUCHESS."
lish governess, was goodness itself, Sascha (or
Alexander), her brother, her devoted slave, and
the Grand Duke's household willing and ready
to gratify her slightest fancy; but she seemed
weary of them all, and her father sighed heavily
as he watched her.
"Small one," he said, "what does my girl
want ? tell me!" But she pressed closer
against the windowpane, and did not answer.
His kind face was full of tender solicitude.


She turned abruptly, her crutches making a
rasping sound on the polished floor.
"Ah, fatherkin," she said, "I find it so very
dull, so unusually dull. That is all."
Dull? queried the Grand Duke. It is
because you are alone, sweet one ? Where is
good Miss Sutton ? She will cheer you."
Dear fatherkin," she said, "surely I have
told you many times that Miss Sutton has long
ceased to amuse me. She is always the same.
She never varies, even to doing her hair and
writing to her brother, which she does each
Sunday at three o'clock. She is very kind and
undoubtedly well-meaning, but most wearing.
Besides all of that, she has an attack of nerves."
She paused languidly. The Grand Duke
looked at her in vague dismay. He never quite
understood his lonely, motherless daughter, or
knew how to answer her. He could strive
only to brighten her life; and, as was usual when
he talked to her, he fell back into one strain.
What can I give you, small one ? he asked.
Name it, and it is yours. Anything."
She shook her head. "That is the saddest
thing of all," she said. "I have everything.
I only wish I had n't. I wish that there was
something I wanted dreadfully; but there is n't.
I have tried all day to think of something I
wanted, and I can't. Probably that is why I
am so unusually dull. Nothing ever seems to
happen. I have n't laughed for a month, nor
cried either. I 'm not even sleepy or hungry.
I am only dreadfully bored."
She closed her eyes wearily. The Grand
Duke glanced out into the garden.
"Come," he said, "let us go and feed the
goldfish. I will send for your hat."
She crossed over to him slowly.
I don't like the goldfish any longer," she
said. There was only one amusing one, and
he is dead. I do not wish to be impolite, father-
kin, but I would rather not feed the goldfish."
She sat down in the big chair facing him, and
crossed her crutches in front of her.
"Shall we make the great music-box go? "
he asked.
She shook her head. "I am tired of the
music-box, too," she said, mournfully; "and
my books and even my parrot. He has learned
to say 'Vera is a good girl,' and he does not






THE LITTLE DUCHESS AND THE LION-TAMER.


say anything else. I have tried to teach him
to say Vera is n't a good girl,' but he will not."
The Grand Duke looked at her gently.
"Surely you love the garden and the sun-
shine, child ? "
Not very much, fatherkin," said the little
Duchess. "It is very like dear Sascha- the
garden: it is fair and large and beautiful; but it
is very monotonous. Surely," she leaned for-
ward, anxiously, "surely you will admit that
Sascha is monotonous. I love him devotedly,
as you know, but I still feel that. I am tired
of almost everything, great one. Your little
Vera wants something quite, quite new."
The Grand Duke rose suddenly.
I have an invitation for you," he said. I
had forgotten it. Princess Sophia will take you
to the hippodrome with Olga and Irene and the
little Princess May to see the animals. There
are so many new ones. Then it will not be
so dull. She will come for you at three o'clock."
I suppose I might
as well go," said the.
little Duchess, thought- .I
fully, since Miss Sut- '
ton has nerves, and
Sascha is at the club;. .
it is, at all events, some-
thing."
The Grand Duke
turned to go, feeling
a sense of untold relief.
She called him back.
"Dear fatherkin," she
said, sweetly, flashing
upon him one of her
rare and bewildering smile-,
"I fear I was rude about the r-
goldfish. Some other ti:im I
will go gladly."
"Thou art so like th, ir.,the.
small one," he murmured, r-rrcderI!..
and smiled back at her.
But late in the afternm:: ion j< iv: -.i'
at his desk signing his letters rapidly,
and directing his secretary, who sat opposite,
he heard the faint tip, tap of her crutches
coming along the hall. She entered hur-
riedly and came eagerly to her father's side,
her cheeks flushed, her eyes shining. Regard-


less of his writing, she laid an eager hand on
his arm.
Great one," she said, "I have something to
tell you."
The Grand Duke sighed softly. Not now,"
he pleaded. Later, my sweet one, when I am
not so busy. See, all these letters must be an-
swered before to-morrow."
The little Duchess drew herself up slowly.
"I said at once, great one. It is most im-
portant."
The secretary, knowing she would gain her
point, had already begun to take up the papers.
She smiled at him, her large brown eyes full of
unusual excitement.
"Good Mishowitz," she said, I shall not
be long."
The Grand Duke looked after him, plain-
tively; but Vera thrust her small, impatient
self between her father and the desk.
Up," she pleaded, "up on the desk."


"'I WANT THE LION-TAMER,' SHE SAID."


And the Grand Duke, vanquished, lifted her
up in front of him.
Her eyes danced with eagerness. I know


x896.1







THE LITTLE DUCHESS AND THE LION-TAMER.


now what I want," she explained. "Surely
that is important. Particularly when I have
been so dull."
The little Duchess leaned toward him. "I
want the lion-tamer from the circus," she said.
"What!" exclaimed the Grand Duke.
"What? What?"
"The lion-tamer from the circus," she re-
peated. "Yes, I want him to come here and
tell me all about the different animals. He is
very different from everybody. He is very un-
usual. He looks very dark and very strong; and
his eyes are bright. The lions are very much
afraid of him, and crouch down when he looks
at them- especially the biggest lion with the
lame foot. I liked the lion-tamer, and I want
him to come. Please get him for me, father-
kin."
The Grand Duke looked about him help-
lessly, seeking vainly for a proper answer.
You said I might have whatever I wanted,"
said the little Duchess, her parted, innocent lips
smiling happily.
But, heart of mine, this is impossible. You
are not in earnest."
"Do I not always say what I mean ? said
the little Duchess.
Alas, yes," sighed the Grand Duke.
The smile died away from her face, and she
brought her brows together ominously.
"Surely," she said, "you do not refuse me? "
But, my heart, I must," said the poor Grand
Duke. It is not possible for me to do other-
wise ask for anything else."
"And why not this ? she asked.
My child! a common, brutal lion-tamer?
Here in my house, talking to you? Have you
forgotten who you are ? "
She shook her head quickly.
No," she said, "I have not forgotten. It
is you who forget that I am lame and suffering.
It fs you who refuse me what I want. If I
may not have the lion-tamer to amuse me,
then I want nothing."
Vera he said firmly, "you cannot. I am
so sorry I must say it. You are a little girl -
you do not understand the fitness of things.
Think of something else, dear."
She slid down from the desk and took up her
crutches slowly. Then she went toward the


door. He watched her, more sorry than she
dreamed to refuse her.
When her brother, Duke Alexander, came in
at dusk, he called, as he always did: Small
one!-Vera!" but she did. not answer him,
and he searched through the grand rooms
vainly. Then he went up the stairs looking
for her. As he reached her door he heard
her weeping softly. He knocked impatiently.
"It is I," he said. "What ails you, my
soul ? He strode in and gathered her into his
arms. She sobbed on his shoulder. He patted
her head distractedly.
"Ah, pretty one, little one," he begged, tell
Sascha what has grieved you. You know he
loves you more than his life. It breaks his
heart to see you cry."
She slipped a small, hot hand in his.
I may not have what I want," she ex-
plained, the great tears rolling down her little
face. "That is why I weep."
"You may have anything on earth that
Sascha can get you. What is it, my little
heart ?"
Fatherkin refused me fancy it. He re-
fused distinctly. Not once but twice."
Alexander pulled his long mustache savagely.
Perhaps I can get it for you," he said.
The little Duchess sat up on his knee and
sighed contentedly.
"Surely," she said; "I might have known
you would get it, tall and great one. It is not
much that I want; it is the lion-tamer from the
circus."
"The lion-tamer," said the Duke. Why ?"
"To talk to," said the little Duchess. He
would amuse me. He is quite unusual. And
the lions are very much afraid of him-he
talks to them quite softly all the time. I want
to ask him what he says to them."
I will take you to the circus myself," he
said.
She shook her head.
"No," she said, I want to have him here.
I want to hear about the baby lions. Surely,"
reproachfully, "you are not about to-"
No, no," said the Duke hastily. Did I
not promise ? But it is an odd whim, small
one,-"
It is what I want," said the little Duchess.


798


[AUG.







THE LITTLE DUCHESS AND THE LION-TAMER.


"And when he comes, what then ?"
I shall talk to him and ask him about the
lame lion and the little ones." After a few
moments of silence, he put her down gently and
went to her father.
The Grand Duke was in his study writing,
but he raised his head as his son entered.
You Sascha," he said, "have you seen
Vera? She is most unhappy."
The tall young officer nodded. "Yes," he
said; "how could you refuse her ?"
The Grand Duke looked at him.
"You would advise my letting the man
come? he asked. "A circus performer here to
see Vera! I thought better of your common
sense, Sascha."
The young Duke thrust his hands in his
pockets, and stood silently for a moment.
Well ?" said his father.
"I will tell you," said Duke Alexander, I
will get Michael, and go to the hippodrome and
see this fellow. If I find him possible, I will
have him come. If he is rough and ill-bred,
well, then sighing, the small one will have
to grieve."
The Grand Duke shook his head. "She
ought not to be indulged so," he said; "it is
quite spoiling her."
"She is the dearest of dear little girls," the
brother said. And as for me, whenever I see
her little crutches, I remember that if I had not
let her slip from my knee she would be well and
strong." His handsome face was full of ear-
nestness, his clear blue eyes looked squarely at
his father. "Fancy," he said, "having to clump
about on two sticks of wood instead of one's
own feet!"
The Grand Duke turned suddenly.
You are right; she asks for few things. Do
what you think best," he said.
Duke Alexander called for his cousin, Prince
Michael Strokoff, and they went down into the
city to the hippodrome. The entrance was
crowded with people, the big, round building
filling rapidly. The two young officers went
back to the manager's office. They were well
known in St. Petersburg, as are all of the Impe-
rial Guard, and the manager bowed profoundly
to them.
Can we speak with the lion-tamer a mo-


ment? Duke Alexander said. "And what
is his name? "
The manager led the way for them, smilingly.
"Surely you can see him, Highness," he said.
"He is back where the animals are kept, wait-
ing his entrance. His name is Ivan Romanek.
I found him in Hungary. He is truly a mar-
vel. Here is the dressing-tent."
"Thank you," said the Duke, "I see him
now, and I need not trouble you further." And
then they crossed over to the great cages where
the lions were.
The lion-tamer stood leaning against one of
the cages, smoking a cigarette. He had on
over his ring-clothes a long ulster, which fell
to his heels. It was open at the neck, and
showed his silk Jersey, and broad, firm throat.
Even at a glance Duke Alexander marked
his great depth of chest and breadth of shoul-
der. His face was clean-shaven, well cut, and
strong; his hair thick and very black; his brows
heavy, and close together. As the two young
officers came up to him, he folded his arms,
and watched them idly. Duke Alexander
looked him over carefully before he spoke; ,but
Prince Michael began curtly:
Are you Romanek the lion-tamer ?"
Romanek nodded. Yes," he said, quietly.
"I am Prince Michael Strokoff of the Im-
perial Guard. The Grand Duke Dimitri wishes
to see you to-morrow at his palace."
Romanek looked at him from under his long
lashes.
"What is the Grand Duke to me," he said,
"or what am I to him? I am here to look
after my lions."
Prince Michael's face flushed scarlet, and
the hot blood mounted to his eyes. He took
a step forward, but his cousin pulled his arm.
"You are quite in the wrong, Michael," he
said; and that is no way to ask a favor. Go
over there while I speak with him."
Michael Strokoff walked over to the entrance,
and waited sullenly; but the young Duke
looked at Romanek.
Do not mind him," he said; e is only a
great school-boy. It is not the Grand Duke
who wants you, it is my sister, the little Duchess
Vera. She is very lame, and walks on crutches,
and she suffers a great deal. She came to the


799




J


800 THE LITTLE DUCHESS AND THE LION-TAMER. [AUG.

hippodrome to-day, and saw you; and now she he caught Ivan's eye he raised his head erect
wants you to come and tell her all about the and growled softly, swaying his shoulders to
lions. She says she
wants to hear what you
say to them. What-
ever your time is worth, : ":
I will make good to
you. I can refuse her
nothing, so I came to
ask you."
A pleasant smile
lighted up Romanek's s
dark face, showing his
firm white teeth, and
the kindly lines in the
corners of his mouth.
"What my time is
worth is my own af-
fair," he said. "You
could not pay me for
going; but if the little
lady is lame and ill,
and wants me, I will
go gladly."
The Duke Alexander
watched him gravely.
You are very kind,"
he said. "Will you
come to-morrow after-
noon?"
Romanek nodded
pleasantly. "Yes," he
said; "but there is one
thing: dukes and duch-
esses are not in my line.
I do not know how to
talk to a duchess."
Duke Alexander
laughed. "She is such
a little bit of a duchess
she will scarcely frigh-
ten you," he said; "and
she only wants to talk
about the lions."
Ivan glanced proud-
ly at the cage behind
him. In it Leo the
lion king lay passively, "WHAT IS THE GRAND DUKE TO MIIE?
his great head resting on his paws, his mighty and fro. Romanek looked at the beast stead-
body thrown across the floor of the cage. As ily, the pupils of his eyes dilating until they






THE LITTLE DUCHESS AND THE LION-TAMER.


were twice their usual size, and soon the great
beast turned away his head.
"Ah," he said, "if I need only talk of my
lions, I shall feel quite at home [ "
Just then the bell sounded for his entrance,
and he nodded to the Duke hastily, and throw-
ing off his ulster, stood waiting.
The under-trainers moved the great cages
slowly into the ring. Romanek picked up his
little leather whip and followed after. As the
curtain fell behind him they heard the great au-
dience greet him with shouts of applause.
The next day the Grand Duke and his son
sat in the smoking-room chatting with Prince
Michael, when Nicholas, the hall servant,
knocked and entered.
"Pardon, Highness," he said, "but a man
named Romanek says you sent for him."
"Show him in here," said the Grand Duke.
The two young officers did not recognize
Romanek when he entered. He now wore a
dark coat and dark trousers, and carried a soft
felt hat in his hands. The Grand Duke glanced
at him in surprise.
"Are you Romanek the lion-tamer?" he
asked.
Duke Alexander answered for him quickly.
Surely," he said, "I did n't know you at
first, Romanek, in those clothes."
Romanek smiled quietly. Is the little lady
ready to see me ?" he asked.
She is in the library," said the Grand Duke.
"I am very much indebted to you for your
kindness in coming. My little daughter is so
great an invalid that I fear we spoil her sadly;
but perhaps you will forgive us that when you
see her. She is a strange child and has strange
whims."
He opened the door into the library, and
motioned to Romanek to enter.
"Vera," he said, here is your guest."
The little Duchess had been looking out of
the window, but she turned and came forward
slowly on her crutches.
"So you are the lion-tamer ?" she asked.
"It was very kind of you to come. How is the
big lame lion ? what is his name ? "
The expression of her small sad face touched
Romanek's kind heart.
"The lame lion is Leo," he said, smiling at


her very pleasantly,- the king of all the lions.
Did you like him best.? "
She nodded. "Yes," she said, "I liked him
for his foot's sake. He must be so tired of being
lame. Come and sit down on the divan."
She seated herself on the great sofa, her dark
head resting against the white bear skin thrown
over the back. But Romanek sat down on the
floor, and crossed his knees easily.
So," he said; I am more at home this way.
What does the little lady wish me to tell her ? "
She leaned forward, her large eyes full of
contentment.
"So many things," she said. "What is your
name ?"
Ivan Romanek," he said.
"That is a very nice short name," she said
gravely. Mine is very long--much too long
to say or write -it is Vera Sophia Maria Met-
ternich Nasimoff. Is n't that very drawn out ? "
Romanek nodded. Yes," he said, "that is
a good deal of a name, but it has a fine sound."
It took me a great while to spell it all cor-
rectly," said the little Duchess. "I am a very
little girl for so much name; and I feel as if each
day was a whole year, and each hour a day.
Did you ever feel as dull as that ? "
Romanek considered the question gravely.
I don't believe I have ever felt that way,"
he said, "for I have always had to work."
"I wish I had to work!" said the little
Duchess plaintively. It would be so nice to
have something to do all day long. But," with
a swift smile, "I must hear about the beasts.
Please tell me what it is you say to them so softly
Leo, and the mother lion with the babies,
and the big tiger with the whiskers, and the
spotted cat that is in the cage alone."
Romanek straightened his shoulders squarely.
So," he said. Where shall I begin ? Shall
I tell about the circus and the people and the
way the lions have to play for them ? And how
Leo growls and begs me to let him go into his
cage where he can be at peace ? I say to him,
Come, Leo, Kingly One, come; it is soon over
with. Come and show these people how a
fallen king can still be mighty.' And when he
will not, I tickle his ear with my whip and
whisper: 'See, Leo, they wait for you; come
quickly!'"


i





THE LITTLE DUCHESS AND THE LION-TAMER.


It is not the people or the circus I care for,"
she said. "It is Leo himself. Tell me how
he was made king."
Romanek smiled slowly. Listen," he said.
" I will tell you all about him."
And then, leaning his head on his hand, his
eyes fixed on hers, he talked to her softly:
"Leo the great lion is the king of beasts.
Once, long ago, when he wasyoung, they crowned
him so, far away in the great desert where he
was born. It was his right; he came of a race
of kings; and he ruled the whole desert by his
might and power. His castle was the white
desert sand, his ramparts the tall stately palm
trees. The blue sky roofed it over, and the hot.
desert wind made it warm. His servants were
all the beasts that crawled serving him fear-
fully and well. This kingdom stretched as far
as he could see and farther; as widely as he
could hear and yet beyond. From the midst
of it he would roar out his challenge. He is
too noble to attack any animal unawares. Be-
fore he goes he roars his hunting song; it sounds
like peals of thunder."
The little Duchess sat motionless as Romanek,
his eyes flashing, chanted some verses that he
called the lion's wild hunting song.
"Ah! said the little Duchess, softly, when
Romanek had finished the song," I could almost
hear him roar. Truly, you do amuse me well.
And then-"
"And then," said the lion-tamer, came the
end of his freedom. Leo, who had ruled as
imperiously as the 'White Father,' met his
master, man. Once, at nightfall, he wandered
majestically, his proud head erect, his mane
floating in the wind. He made his way through
the desert, the soft sand sinking under his
tread. Deep in the heart of a clump of palm-
trees they had set their trap for him; and he,
unconscious of it, went on. Alas for Leo and
his liberty! With a mighty roar of dismay, he
stumbled and fell--fell down into the pit laid
for him, breaking his paw under him, bruised,
and trapped, and captured. No longer the
king, but the prisoner. Man had conquered
him. Man, like a treacherous enemy, had cap-
tured him by a snare. And so Leo was brought
here for you and the world to see. As for me,
he fears me only because he is in the cage, and


sees the whip. If I were in the desert with
him, he would be king again."
Quick tears shone in the little Duchess's
eyes. Poor King Leo," she said; "and who
rules the desert now? "
I do not know," said the lion-tamer. "Per-
haps his brother; there is always a lion king."
What strange eyes you have," said the little
Duchess, suddenly. "They look black and
then green and then yellow. I can't look at
them long."
"The beasts can't look at them at all," said
Romanek. It is merely a trick, little lady;
and it is because I have strange eyes that the
lions obey me."
"And the tiger ?" asked the little Duchess.
"Michoban is the tiger. He is very crafty,
and very wise," said Romanek. "He is older
and wiser than all the other beasts; but he is
very deceitful. His eyes are like yellow topaz,
and his paws like velvet; but for all that, he is
not to be trusted. And when he was in the
jungle he was wicked and cruel. For every
stripe across his back, he has slain a man; and
for every black ring around his tail, he has
killed a beast. He snarls at me, but he fears
me. Once Michoban sprang at me, and I
lashed him across the face. Since then he has
obeyed me. He has long whiskers like a tame
cat, and he can purr when he chooses, but be-
hind his whiskers are his cruel teeth, and his
purr changes to a snarl. Only when he is
asleep and lies snoring is he peaceful. Then
he has visions of his jungle, and his great lair
in the midst of the tanglewood and high grass.
He fancies he can see himself crouching,
springing; and he smiles as he sleeps, crafty
old Michoban!"
"And the spotted cat," said the little Duch-
ess, it was very large for a pussy cat, and very
cross; is it like old Michoban ? "
"That is Lela, the little leopardess; always
restless and always hungry. She walks back
and forth in her cage all day. Sometimes she
swings her tail until it beats the sides; and yet
she seldom makes a sound. She only eats, and
eats, and eats."
The little Duchess laughed softly.
"She is like my greedy goldfish," she said,
"always eating. He died of it. Perhaps she


802


"Wv'I,/.







THE LITTLE DUCHESS AND THE LION-TAMER.


will. I like to hear about Lela. I knew I
would not be dull if you came and told me of
the beasts. I always know best what I want.
And it was Sascha who brought you; I shall
not forget that. Sascha is so good to me;
and he is so brave and strong. I wish I were
strong like Sascha. Then I would do brave
things; "- she sighed heavily -" but I shall
never be able to, because my tiresome knee
will not get well."
Romanek's eyes were full of sympathy, and
he leaned toward her.
Perhaps you may do something very brave
some day, even if the knee is lame."
She smiled at him radiantly.
Do you think that ? she said. "I shall
try to think so. Tell me now about the baby
lions and their mother, please."
He leaned his head on his arm, and cautiously
rested his elbow against the divan. It was
very warm and quiet in the great library, and
the faintest little breeze blew in through the
window. He felt the peace of it, used, as he
was, to the noisy hippodrome and its restless
occupants; and he closed his eyes and enjoyed
it the beautiful room, the sunshine, and the
little Duchess, who was so willing to hear him
tell of his lions.
The lioness is Puska," he said, Leo's wife;
"and she is a great scold. She growls and
worries at Leo all the time. Sometimes she
even slaps him with her paw, and snarls at him;
but to the baby lions Puska is very gentle and
kind. She sings to them softly, and licks their
smooth little heads with her warm tongue, and
they snuggle up to her and listen, until they
fall fast asleep. She always sings the same
lullaby song."
He closed his eyes and dropped his head
lower over his hand.

PUSKA'S SONG.
When Kiva, the big snake, swallows the sun,
Then, 0 my cubkin, the long day is done.
Yellow and burning, so the day dies,
Drowsy lids, drowsy lids close over eyes.
Sleep, sleep, while mother purrs,
Sleep, sleep, cubkin of hers.
Lie low, cuddle and rest,
Sleep, now, mother knows best.
"That is Puska's song," he said.


"Sing it again," begged the little Duchess,
her eyelids dropping down over her brown eyes,
and Ivan sang:

Hear my heart beat for you, small whelp of mine,
All of the love in it surely is thine;
Hear Nana, the night-hawk, call as he flies,
Drowsy lids, drowsy lids close over eyes.
Sleep, sleep, etc.

Once more, please," she said dreamily; her
head rested against the white bearskin, and her
dark lashes touched her cheek. Half under
his breath, softly, sleepily he murmured it:

When the night falls, come the stars .one by one;
Fire-flies flit, and the little mice run.
As Bursa, the beetle, passes, he cries,
Drowsy lids, drowsy lids, close over eyes.
Sleep, sleep, etc.

It grew very still in the library, and Duke
Alexander went to the door and glanced in.
Come here," he said, Come and see."
The Grand Duke and Prince Michael looked
over his shoulders.
"Well, upon my word!" said the Grand Duke
slowly, for there, in the library of the ducal
palace, she at one end of the divan, and he at
the other, were the Duchess Vera Sophia Maria
Metternich Nasimoff, the goddaughter of the
Czar, and the lion-tamer from the circus, both
fast asleep.

It was about a week later when Ivan gRo-
manek, coming from one of the tents, heard two
men, standing just outside of the entrance, talk-
ing rapidly. He caught the name of the Grand
Duke Dimitri and listened for a moment. One
of the voices sounded very much excited, and
the owner of it spoke so quickly and softly that
one could barely follow him.
It will be at ten o'clock," he said, and it
cannot fail. We wondered where you were at
the meeting. This time, we must succeed -
we cannot fail. He is to dine at the palace of
the Grand Duke, with only a couple of his
aides. This news we obtained from our bro-
ther of the household. The powder lies he
dropped his voice,--"in the box of the center
palm-tree at the head of the conservatory, di-
rectly in front of the dining-room entrance.
The fuse goes below; it is to be lighted from






THE LITTLE DUCHESS AND THE LION-TAMER.


the wine-cellar. Brave Tiska has volunteered
to start it. He counts his life as nothing for
the cause."
Romanek stood motionless; his heart beat
until it fairly stifled him; he was beginning to
realize the horror of what was coming. He
caught vaguely the next words:
"After the explosion we are to meet at the
old place. If Tiska escapes he will join us."
"Why did you come here to-night," asked
the other voice."
The chief ordered it. He has scattered us


palm-tree; and oh, the horrible death which
surely awaited them! the handsome young Duke
Alexander, and perhaps the little Duchess.
Romanek could see her now, her small, sad
face full of earnestness, as she listened to the
stories of the lions. Suddenly it flashed across
him that there was yet time, and he ran swiftly
out of the square toward the palace. As he
passed the cathedral, he heard the bells of the
tower ring out; it was half-past eight o'clock.
He ran faster, and reached the gate of the pal-
ace breathless and panting. Before the gate,


"IT GREW VERY STILL IN THE LIBRARY." (SEE PAGE 803.)


all over the city, to prevent suspicion and to
bring him news of the effect of the explosion.
Remember to meet us to-night."
I will remember," said the other voice,
"and the word is ? "
"Dimitri, the name of the Grand Duke," said
the other, until we meet." Then they parted
and walked away rapidly. Romanek came out
of the shadow and stood breathing heavily.
His quick brain had told it to him fifty times
in those few seconds: there was a plot against
the Czar the Czar, who was to dine with the
Grand Duke. The powder was in the box of the


and inside the grounds and everywhere he saw
the dark uniforms and close caps of the secret
police, who always guard the Czar. Then he
knew he had heard aright, and that the Czar
was indeed inside, within a hand's throw of
the powder which should cause his death. He
feared his story would not be believed by the
police, but he was determined to carry the news
himself; and he pushed forward.
What is it, my fine fellow ?" asked one of
them. You seem in a great deal of a hurry."
"I want to go into the palace," said Ro-
manek, hardly stopping to think.






THE LITTLE DUCHESS AND THE LION-TAMER.


Do you indeed? said the man very coolly.
"Well, you can't."
"And why not?" said Romanek quietly.
"I am the lion-tamer from the hippodrome.
Perhaps some of you may recognize me."
Three or four of them came forward and
looked at him, holding their small lanterns up
to his face.
Yes, it is the lion-tamer," said one; I know
him by his eyes. He 's a Hungarian. Are
you not ?"
"Yes," said Romanek. May I go in now ? "
The sergeant shook his head gruffly.
"No," he said; "I 've had my orders; and
unless you belong to the household you cannot
enter."
From where they stood Romanek could see
the palace. The moonlight was everywhere,
and flooded the garden with a great wave of
light. Just then he saw two figures come out
on the upper balcony, and one of them was the
little Duchess. The gate was only a few yards
away from the palace, and by raising his voice
she could hear him; but he did not try that;
he turned to the sergeant.
"I came to sing a serenade to the little
Duchess Vera," he said. "If I may not go in,
may I stand here and sing it? "
The sergeant looked at him. "Sing away,"
he said, shrugging his shoulders. Singing is
safe enough-at this distance."
Then Romanek stood close to the gate, and
sang the lullaby of Puska the lioness:

When Kiva the big snake swallows the sun,
Then, 0 my cubkin, the long day is done.
Yellow as burnished gold, so the day dies,
Drowsy lids, drowsy lids close over eyes.
Sleep, sleep while mother purrs,
Sleep, sleep, cubkin of hers.
Lie low, cuddle and rest,
Sleep now, mother knows best.

He could see the little Duchess come to the
edge of the balcony and look out into the night.
Still he sang, louder and clearer. His rich full
voice filled the air with melody, and the secret
police listened admiringly. Then the little
Duchess disappeared inside; Romanek waited
breathlessly; every moment seemed an hour,
until he heard steps coming down the walk, and
Nicholas stood at the gate.


"Is Romanek from the circus there ?" he
asked.
"Yes, I am he," said Ivan eagerly.
Nicholas opened the gate. Her Highness
the Duchess wishes me to bring you to her," he
said.
"All right," nodded the sergeant, "go on.
In with you."
Romanek followed Nicholas through the door
and up the great staircase. He heard merry
voices in the dining-room, and the sound of
merry talk and laughter. He shuddered at the
thought of that of which they did not dream.
Nicholas threw open the door of the school-
room, where the little Duchess sat with her
governess.
The little Duchess smiled at Ivan delightedly.
"I wished Miss Sutton to see you," she said,
and to hear you sing."
Nicholas closed the door behind him.
"How are the lions?" asked the little
Duchess.
Romanek came closer to her.
Little lady," he said, "I have come to tell
you of a plot against the Czar, who is dining
here to-night. The song was but to attract
your attention. I overheard two men speaking
of the Czar at the circus. He is," he dropped
his voice, "to be killed here to-night."
Miss Sutton gave a faint shriek and closed
her eyes convulsively; but the little Duchess
rose and steadied herself on her crutches.
What are they going to do ? she said.
Romanek told her quickly, his dark eyes
fixed on hers, but she did not move.
How can we prevent it ? she said softly.
Miss Sutton gasped.
The little Duchess frowned at her.
Dear Miss Sutton," she said, do not have
nerves now. What can we do? Think!"
She looked earnestly at Romanek.
The powder would be quite harmless if it
were wet," he said. May I not go and dampen
it? It will take only a moment, and it grows
late."
Miss Sutton looked at him.
"You are not afraid ? she said.
He smiled. "I have never been afraid in
my life."
Miss Sutton rose to her feet.






806


THE LITTLE DUCHESS


"We must not let the Czar know that this
plot was even attempted," she said. "It would
ruin your father, child. I know enough of Rus-
sian customs to know that whatever we do we
must do quietly."
"And at once," said Romanek.
You could not go into the dining-room -
they would not let you," said the little Duchess,
"nor could Miss Sutton; but I can go. I will
take the little watering-can that is out on the
balcony, and water the palm-tree. The palm-
trees are mine."
Miss Sutton held her back wildly.
My child, my child! she cried, "you can-
not go. I cannot permit it "
No, no! said Romanek; "not you, little
lady. It is too great a risk."
Vera drew herself up proudly.
Do not presume to hinder me," she said.
" It is to. save the White Father, and fatherkin,
and Sascha, and you try to keep me ?" She
had her father's commanding manner when
she was thoroughly aroused. Get me the
little watering-pot," she said.
Miss Sutton brought it tiemblingly, protest-
ing, entreating. Suppose he has mistaken the
hour! she sobbed.
Romanek took it out of her hand, and held
it out to the little Duchess.
"You wanted to do a brave thing," he said;
"this is the time."
He laid his hand on her shoulder.
"Are you afraid ?" he said.
She raised her head. "Afraid ? she said.
"I am a Nasimoff."
Miss Sutton wept ceaselessly, wringing her
thin hands; but Romanek did not heed her.
"Good," he said; "that was worthy of a
Nasimoff."
He watched the little Duchess go down the
staircase, carrying the little watering-can; then
he heard the little tip-tap of her crutches along
the lower hall. Miss Sutton had fallen into a
chair. He stood at the top of the stairs and
waited. He longed to rush down and carry
out the palm-tree; but he realized the impor-
tance of the whole thing being kept secret, and
he knew he could do nothing. He glanced at
the clock nervously; it was after nine.
The little Duchess entered the great dining-


AND THE LION-TAMER. [AUG.

room softly. The Czar sat facing the door, and
he kissed his hand to her. Then her father
turned, and shook his head at the child.
"Why, Vera," he said, "what does this
mean? But Vera looked smilingly, plead-
ingly at the Czar.
"Dear Imperial godpapa," she said, "I am
not permitted to come in. Please order me to
come, and then I must. I want so very much
to see you."
The Czar laughed heartily.
I command it! he said. Here, my pretty
one! Who dares to keep you out?" And
Vera went over to him, smiling at Sascha, who
watched her lovingly.
The Grand Duke tried to look at her se-
verely, but he failed utterly. Vera was too
charming when she was in this mood. She sat
on the edge of the Czar's chair, and he kissed
her fondly.
"Vera loves you," she said to him.
He put his arms around her tenderly.
"Why have you brought the watering-pot ?
he asked suddenly.
The little Duchess felt her face change color,
but she got up and called one of the servants.
Fill that," she said, handing him her little
watering-pot. It is for my palm-trees," she
explained to the Czar. I forgot to water
them well; and I could not sleep until I, had
done that, and (raising her eyes to his) seen
you; surely I might have been allowed to come
in before; but I was not, so I came anyway."
The Grand Duke watched her cross to the
door of the conservatory. Directly behind the
Czar's chair stood the three palms, close to-
gether. As she reached them Vera turned, and
looked at her father. She felt for an instant a
desire to scream aloud it seemed to her as if
she could not keep still. Then she remem-
bered that a Nasimoff had never been afraid,
and she raised her little watering-pot, and emp-
tied it into the middle palm.
I want more water," she said to one of the
servants, and he brought her a great silver
pitcher full.
The Czar turned in his chair, and watched her.
"You will drown that palm, little one," he said.
She smiled at him gravely. "That palm
was very dry," she said.






THE LITTLE DUCHESS AND THE LION-TAMER.


The palm-box was filled with water. It
soaked down and in. She wondered if she
had given it water enough, or if the powder
would still light and explode. She looked at
the smiling faces around the. table Sascha
and her father, and Prince'Michael, Prince Dar-
mia, and the two aides of the Czar, and then at the
Czar himself; and suddenly she felt very white
and faint. She leaned on her crutches heavily.
Sascha," she said, "please carry me up-
stairs." From his arms she smiled faintly at
them all. Good night," she said, "good
night, Imperial godpapa, and thank you for or-
dering that I should come in." But when her
brother reached the foot of the staircase, she
put her arms around his neck, and trembled all
over. "Sascha," she said, "tall and great one,
your little Vera has something to tell you."
And, as he clasped her closely, she repeated
Romanek's story.
The tall young officer turned deathly white.
"And you, my soul, you dared to attempt
it all alone? Vera! Vera!" He buried his
face in her dark hair. Then she spoke softly.
Perhaps I may not have given it enough
water," she said. You send down in the
wine-cellar, and see. I would have told you
at once, but Miss Sutton said no one must
know. I will go upstairs, and wait for you."
At the top of the stairs she found Romanek,
who came forward to meet her. And then she
fainted away.
He picked her up, crutches and all, and carried
her into the school-room.
And Duke Alexander, with a couple of ser-
vants, went into the wine-cellar. The long fuse
hung there, but it was dripping wet; the wa-
ter from the palm had trickled down and made
a pool on the floor. Tiska, seeing that the plot
was discovered, had fled.
How he went back and finished his dinner,
Duke Alexander never knew; but .he set his
shoulders squarely, and ate and drank whatever
they put before him mechanically. It seemed
hours to him before the Czar and his aides went
out to the imperial carriage. As they passed
down the walk, the Czar stopped to look at
the garden flooded in the moonlight.
"What a night!" he said. "Upon such a
night it is good to be alive."


And Duke Alexander shuddered as he thought
of what might have been; then he hurried his
father and Michael into the library, and sent
Nicholas for Miss Sutton and Vera. They
came, bringing Romanek with them. Vera
had quite recovered from her fainting-fit, and
looked flushed and happy. The Grand Duke
stared at Romanek.
"Small one," said her brother, unsteadily,
"tell father all about it."
When she had finished, the Grand Duke
took a stride toward her, and gathered her into
his great arms.
My brave, brave girl! he said. She has
saved the Czar's life."
But the little Duchess shook her head. "Not
I, fatherkin, really, but the lion-tamer."
The Grand Duke put her down, and turned
to him. "I cannot hope to repay you. But
for you"-he shivered and closed his eyes.
"What is there that you want ?" said Duke
Alexander. Name it."
Romanek smiled. Nothing," he said, "but
quantities of lions; and you cannot give me
those."
The Grand Duke held out his hand. Here
is my hand," he said; "and a Nasimoff does
not give his hand idly. Whenever you need a
friend count on me."
Romanek met the grasp frankly.
I will remember that," he said. And now,
if I may, Highness, I will go."
The little Duchess came over toward him.
He looked down at her gently.
Good-by," she said, take good care of the
lame lion."
But just as he reached the door he paused
and stood facing them. The Grand Duke stood
facing him, and held little Vera pressed close
against his breast.
I know two things I would like," Romanek
said, if I am not too bold, and since you ask
me to say what I want; two things I would
like very much to have."
"That is well," said the Grand Duke.
What are they ? "
Romanek looked at Vera.
I would like the little watering-pot," he
said. "And Puska, the lioness, has a new cub.
May I call it after the little Duchess ? "


807


x896.1





















c_ ._- "






1.--= __ -


- -c~---


"C


~-.='- ,i2 -



AN AUGUST OUTING.


--i-, s
C-


0012- .0'P,











THE PALIO AT SIENA.

BY ELIZABETH ROBINS PENNELL.


LET me tell you about a very odd and amus-
ing race which is run every summer in Siena,
Italy. Siena, as you may know, is a quiet old
town, high up in the mountains, where the
people as a rule amuse themselves with a stroll
in the Lizza, a little park about the size of one
of our city squares, or else with an occasional
puppet-show, or the songs of wandering min-
strels who sing through the streets and in the
crowded caf6s, where everybody goes in the
evening to drink coffee. But if you happened
to be there in midsummer at the time of the
Palio, as the famous race is called, the crowds
and illuminations would make you think the
place gay enough. As you may never, or at
least not for many years, go to this out-of-the-
way Italian town, let me tell you what the Palio,
so well worth seeing, is like.
Imagine, then, that it is the i7th of August
and that we are in Siena. It is late in the after-
noon, and the greatest heat of the day is over.
When we go out in the streets we find them
more crowded than we have ever known them
before, even on Sunday afternoons, when every-
body turns out for a walk. There are groups
of women in large straw hats, with very small
crowns, and brims so wide and soft that they
flap at every step. There are men from the
country and men from the city, soldiers in
great numbers and officers, boys and girls, and
babies in their nurses' arms, and all are going
in the same direction, through the narrow streets
and between the tall, grim palaces, here down
a steep passage-way, and here up two or three
steps. We follow them, because we know that
everybody must be going to see the race, for
who on the day of the Palio cares for or thinks
of anything else'? As we drive down an alley
so dark and narrow that were we not in Italy
we would not venture into it, and are within a
few feet of the race-course,-stop a minute and
tell me what you suppose it will be like. A
VOL. XXIII.- 102. 8


wide, well-kept road, you probably think, run-
ning around a large green, and either outside
the city or else, perhaps, within an inclosure.
This is certainly what you would find in Amer-
ica and England, and indeed in most parts of
Italy. But come now to the Sienese course. A
few steps further on, and you are there- and to
your surprise you see that it is in the Piazza del
Campo,'that great, open, shell-shaped space in
the center of the town, where there are so many
lofty palaces, and above all these, springing high
into the air, La Mangia, the lovely, slender,
white-capped tower which the traveler on his
way Sienaward sees while the city. itself still
seems a blue shadow on the mountains. In-
stead of a good road, there is a pavement of
small, irregular stones barely covered with sand.
Instead of a rope round the course, there are
mattresses for the riders to tumble against, for,
as you will see presently, there is plenty of tum-
bling, and the mattresses, comfortable and con-
venient as they look -to you, sometimes cannot
protect the riders from being badly hurt. But
such races have been run in this Piazza for
many centuries-ever since the days when
those now old, old buildings and the far-famed
tower were new; and so the Palio held in any
other place would no longer be the Palio.
How gay it is! From every window and
balcony of the somber, weather-stained palaces
and houses hang bright draperies,- crimson and
gold brocades, shining strips of red and blue
satin, brilliant stuffs of every kind and color,-
the brightest of all being those which decorate
the old red Palazzo Pubblico, by which stands
La Mangia, glittering and glowing in the light
of the evening sun. There are more draperies
on the wooden fences which have been put up
to mark the inner and outer boundary line of
the course, and all the women have come in
their holiday clothes, so that, wherever you look,
among the people gathered in the middle of






THE PALIO AT SIENA.


the Piazza or those seated on the seats ranged
in tiers at the foot of the houses, you see the
broad Sienese hats with their gay, streaming rib-
bons and bunches of still gayer flowers. And
there is as much noise as color. A band is play-
ing near the Fonte Gaja, right in the center of


THE MOUNTED SOLDIERS CLEARING THE COURSE.


the crowd, and everybody is talking at the same
time. When, after we have with great trouble
succeeded in getting seats in a high balcony, we
look down on the Piazza, it seems like an enor-
mous flower-bed full of radiant flowers, while
the flapping straw hats seen from this distance
might pass, if not scanned too critically, for a
new variety of mushrooms.
While we wait for the race to begin, listening
now to the music, now to the remarks of the
woman next to us, who declares that the Snail
or the Tortoise is sure to win, though she knows
the Unicorn and the Giraffe have a fair chance,
too, let me tell you in a very few words what
the Palio means to the people, and then you
will better understand the general excitement
and enjoy the race itself. There is plenty of
time. We shall know when the horses are
coming, for those mounted carabinieri over
there in the court of the Palazzo Pubblico will
have to ride out first, and clear the course for
them.
Well, then, you must know that the city is


ed into seventeen sections, called contrade,
much as American cities are divided into
s. But in Siena these divisions were first
* centuries ago so far back, indeed, that
dy knows exactly when; and each con-
has its separate laws and its own particu-
lar emblem, used as a
coat-of-arms. This is
almost always an ani-
lit mal of some kind,
which gives its name
to the contrada and
Sits horse. Now you
understand why our
neighbor is talking
s about the racers as
if they were strange
animals escaped from
Barnum's menagerie.
To judge from their
names, one might in-
deed think the race
appropriate to the cir-
cus ring; for the Wolf
runs side by side with
the Sheep, the Pan-
ther with the Hedge-
the shambling Giraffe with the far from ra-
nail, the Goose with the Eagle, the Worm
the Unicorn, the Tortoise with the Owl.
besides these creatures let loose from
um's circus or _Esop's Fables," what do
hink of a Wave and a Forest, a Shell and
wer, running a race? Such things were
r seen out of fairyland! In the old times,
Sas you have all read in your history, men
forever fighting, so that nobles in one
e were at war with those in the next, these
ade were not over friendly, and there were
encounters between them. But in addi-
to accidental meetings, one great contest,
osed to be a sham battle, but really fofight
od earnest, was held regularly every year.
a while, when men grew a little less bar-
is, these were changed to bull and buffalo
s, and these in their turn to the horse-
which are now run. While the people in
different contrade are peaceful enough now-
s, the rivalry between themes just as great
ever was; but the only good opportunity


8io





THE PALIO AT SIENA.


they have of winning a victory over their rivals
is at the Palio, to which each section has the right
to send a horse. Only ten run, however; for
almost two hundred years ago it was decided
that seventeen were too many to be on the
course at once. Lots are drawn every year,
so that each contrada has an equal chance to
take part in the race.
But here come the carabinieri, their red and
blue cockades, and red and silver trimmings
looking as if they had been put on in honor of
the feast, and before their horses the people
who have not yet found places scatter quickly
to right and left. There is a pause of expec-
tancy, voices are hushed, and the bands stop
playing. A few men step up on the platform
there at the far corner, where so-many flags are
draped. They are the judges of the race, and
the chief officials of the city. Everybody looks
at them, but only for a minute; for now the
little cannon over by the Fonte Gaja is fired off,
a burst of music comes from the Palazzo Pub-
blico, and out through the old archway march
the musicians, all in gray, with soft white plumes
falling over their hats. Next
follow the standard-bearers of
the contrade. If you have ever
seen the old pictures in the Ca- f-
thedral library, you will wonder A
if many of these men have not I
stepped right out of them. Look
at the two who walk first, with
their green silk tights, their
doublets and sleeves slashed with
gold, and long golden feathers
trailing over their shoulders from
their little caps! The men Pinturic-
chio painted looked just like them. And
see these others in armor! But it is not
easy to make out all the costumes, for the
standard-bearers keep waving their banners,
now above their heads, now around their
shoulders, and again between their legs, and
under their'arms. One man wraps himself
all up in his, so that you see nothing but the
figure of a big goose the emblem on the
flag- on his back.
There are shouts of applause from the crowd;
the horses are being brought out. Are these
really racers ? It is hard to believe it, for they


are old and bony, and most of them look as if
they had spent all their lives at the plow; but
as they pass around the Piazza they are greeted
enthusiastically, and nobody finds fault with their
forlorn appearance, or is surprised by it. Then
there is a rumbling sound, and from the arch-
way comes forth a gorgeous car, dazzling with
green and gold, and with the banners of the
contrade waving above. It is drawn by four
horses, and is full of men in white garments un-
like anything you have ever seen before, and
absurdly out of keeping with their tall black
stovepipe hats. Then there are more' knights
in armor, gentlemen from Pinturicchio's pic-
tures, officers from Napoleon's army, and men
Swho, by their dress, belong to any age but our
own.
And finally the procession closes with an-
other car, battlemented like a castle, and bear-
ing a little girl, who wears a crown like a turret,
and is supposed to represent Siena, and two
little boys in bright pink tights, whom, since they
are patting a large, gilded wolf, you recognize
at once to be the famous twins, Romulus and


"OUT MARCH THE MUSICIANS."
Remus; for Siena has never forgotten that in
old times she was a Roman town.
Horses, standard-bearers, and cars return to
the courtyard of the Palazzo. The music again







THE PALIO AT SIENA.


PARADING THE HORSES BEFORE THE RACE.


stops, and silence falls once more upon the
crowd. All eyes are fixed upon the archway,
under which presently reappear the horses, now
mounted by their jockeys, each of whom is
armed with a short, substantial-looking whip.
Amidst the cries of "Bravo! Bravissimo! "
from the people, they ride to the judges' bal-


cony, stopping just in front of it. A rope is
then stretched across the course, and they face
-about, ready for the start. Bang goes the little
cannon, down drops the rope, off fly the horses!
Who would have thought they could run so
fast? Away they tear, down the Piazza,
around that sharp corner by the Archives


[AUG.






THE PALIO AT SIENA.


Office where the mattresses- are. It is worse
than the curve in Barnum's ring the corner
where some jockeys are sure to tumble.
"The Snail will win!" exclaims our excited
friend.
"No, no; the Tortoise will beat him!" de-
clares another of the party.
We lean far over the balcony, and, like every-
body else, watch with breathless interest. Three
times around go the racers. But not all; for
see, at the very first turn, over rolls the Uni-
corn in front of the Archives. It is well that
the mattresses are there. At the second the
Wave sweeps away the Forest; and the Goose,
wiser than his name, gives the Eagle such a
blow with his whip that the latter is stunned,
and so left far behind. For all are determined
to win, if not by fair means, why, then, by foul;
and what is the use of a whip to which one's
horse is indifferent, if not to beat back success-
ful rivals? At the third turn the Sheep, who
is losing ground, falls upon the Wolf just ahead
of him, and with a push and the help of the
whip, pulls him off his saddle. But dear me!
this is all wrong. What would zEsop say to


such a sheep as this? Or is he perhaps a
real Wolf in Sheep's clothing?
We have not time to decide, for this is the
last round. And now here they come, and the
screams of the people grow louder and louder,
and the jockeys urge on their horses with one
hand, and wave their whips with the other.
The Snailand the Tortoise are ahead, both on
a line, but the Goose and the Sheep are gaining
quickly upon them. The Giraffe and the Pan-
ther are cantering amiably side by side. The
Eagle has his arm up in front of his face to
ward off chance blows. And the Wave, like
all other waves, having swept in with the tide,
is now gently receding, and is well in the rear.
We lean still further over the balcony. The
Snail and the Tortoise are within a few feet
of the winning-post. Which will it be? The
screams are hushed for the moment, and then
the Snail gives one great leap and is in first!
The crowd sets up a mighty shout, and the
Palio, or white satin banner with the Sienese
wolf embroidered on it, is presented to the
winner. Before he can move, men and women
and children have jumped over the barriers and


TOSSING THE FLAG.


813






THE PALIO AT SIENA.


rushed upon him. They hug him and cheer him
and fold him in their arms. They smother his
horse with caresses. They dance and leap for
joy, and when they cannot reach him they
embrace one another. Then they lead him off
in triumph, for they are the people of his con-


\'- @ ,"
"


THE FINISH OF THE RACE. "THE SNAIL WINS! '


trada, and they cannot thank him enough for
having won the victory for them.
As they hurry out of the Piazza let us follow
them, for if we do, I can promise you it will be
worth while. The sun, by this time, has just
sunk in the west, and now and then, through a
low archway, or between high houses, we catch
a glimpse of a still golden sky, and of gray hills
shining softly in the slowly fading light. But
here in the narrow streets it is already dusk,
and we can barely distinguish the colors of the
hangings on the balconies above. The people


int of us keep shouting all the way, lights
to, appear in the windows, and, after pass-
own one steep street and up another, we are
mnly greeted with wilder cries, men and wo-
dance faster than ever, banners are waved,
rights are swung from on high, for we have
reached the contrada
whose people march
...- under the standard of
Sthe Snail. There is a
church at the farther
end of the street, and
into it pours the crowd,
horse and jockey bear-
ing aloft the white
Palio, the standard-
bearer with his flag
proudly unfurled, Pin-
turicchio's young gen-
i [ tlemen, cap and plume
in hand, women in
flapping hats, men with
heads bared, children
in arms and on foot.
And we go in with the
rest. It seems very
still and dark after the
streets. A few lights
are burning, and the
2 shouts and dancing
of the excited people
cease on the threshold.
Silently and quietly the
jockey, with his horse
ever at his side, as if
he were a knight of
old, is led up to
the very altar railing,
e, while all wait in silence, prayers are
d in thanksgiving for the day's triumph.
hen later we go back to the Piazza del
po, it is ablaze with lights; and suddenly,
Walk across it, a great flame of red fire
far up into the air, even to the top of the
La Mangia, and tower and palace gleam
red through it. There are lights, too, on
Lizza. From every tree hang burning
rs and fruit, scarlet and yellow, blue and
, and colored lamps flare from the stalls of
uit-sellers stationed here and there.


814






x896.]


THE PALIO AT SIENA.


815


\ that are being sung. Down one steep hill,
around a corner, and suddenly we have left
the gloom and the loneliness for a land of
.-C light and feasting. Fiery garlands are hung
across the narrow street from the tops
of the high houses on either side.
Soft, many-colored flames burn
in every window. Below on
the street are tables, bright with
f -, flowers and dishes of fruit, and
around them are the members
of the contrada of the Snail.
At one are its officers, at a second

men and boys. The feast be-
gins, the singers leave offsinging,
and a band plays a gay tune
amid merry cries and laughter.
As we pass around by the
tables, and wend our way through
Sthe happy throng, we join them
in wishing long continued suc-
cess to the Snail, and hope that
rthe l. -. | the Palio may ever prove it-
not the slowest, but, as it showed
Itself in the last race- the swift-
THEY LEAD HIM OFF IN TRIUMPH. est of animals.

Perhaps you will think when i ,
the last fire-flower has faded -
from the Lizza, when palace
and tower are again lost in
the darkness, the merry-mak-
ings have come to an end. ii
But wait! We had better not .I"
leave Siena just yet. Let -us 4,
stay for at least the first Sun- *
day after the Palio.
It is late in the evening when "I -
we'start out from the house,
and the only lights are the stars '
above and the lamps at the
corners. The streets are very
silent and lonely. We meet
hardly any one. But, present-
ly, we hear many far-away
voices, and, as we walk on,
they grow louder and more
distinct, until at last we are
so near them we can distin-
guish the words of the songs -
THE SALUTE TO FRIENDS.











-?n c\nd re

'fV\t to Ie plaee


most


left Lim lce'e,-

And


followed

quickly
Y


(3 Ib;-,~


JINGLE AND JANGLE.

BY WILLIAM S. LORD.


JINGLE and Jangle are two little bells
That jingle and jangle all day;
And Jingle rings sweet, with an accent that tells
Of lightsomeness, promise, and May:
Sunshine and sugar and honey and bees,
Rainbows and butterflies' wings,
Bird-songs and brook-songs and wide-spread-
ing trees-
Of joy little Jingle-bell sings!

Jingle and Jangle are two little bells
That jingle and jangle all day;
And Jangle rings harsh, with an accent that
tells
Of darkness, foreboding, dismay:


Storm-cloud and vinegar, wormwood and gall,
Toads' tongues and poisonous things,
Owlets and ravens, and dreams that appal-
Of woe little Jangle-bell rings!

Yes, Jingle and Jangle are two little bells
That jingle and jangle all day;
And the one that you listen to strangely com-
pels
Behavior that's sure to betray.
So listen to Jingle and be a good boy-
To Jangle, oh, never give ear,
And your days will be merry and bubble with
joy,
While sadness will never come near.


.r'














BY JAMES HARVEY SMITH.


BINGO is thirty inches high,
And Buster thirty-two;
While Beau, who is n't quite so big,
Is their loving friend and true.

Beau, the children's joy and pride,
Is a black Newfoundland dog,
Bingo and Buster ponies are


N .:, '.. h i :.r : i.iir l- i e i n l, : > ,.l |.-
11. 1 l i JL I I : lii- i 'ri '



I :' little t-CeC -. 1 ,. i d -r I ,::.,-
.ke r til,: -i lit ,:



-4 .


Two little girls in a yellow cart--
And they all belong to me!

I think nobody has more fun
Or makes a braver show,
Than the little girls who ride behind
Bingo, Buster, and Beau.


t1-


VOL. XXIII.-103.













THE SWORDMAKER'S SON.


BY WILLIAM O. STODDARD.


[Begun in tke November number.

CHAPTER XXIV.

FEEDING THE MULTITUDE.

CYRIL made his way on foot from Judea
through the district of Samaria and as far into
Galilee as Capernaum.
Footsore and weatherbeaten, but glad to be
at his journey's end, he sat with Lois, e.itly .:,rne
morning, in a little porch behind the house of
Abigail.
I will never let thee leave me again," she
said. If thou goest, I will go. It has been
so weary a time here, without thee or father."
Then she told him her own simple story, and
all that she had heard or known concerning
Jesus of Nazareth.
Would that I knew where to find him !"
exclaimed Cyril. None seems to know."
I know," said Lois. He is not in Caper-
naum, but he is among the fisher people, at the
lake shore. But I must tell thee about my
abba, Cyril; I made it for the Master."
Lois arose and stood straight up, her slight
figure full of the pride she felt at having had
such a task assigned to her. But when she
also spoke of the sandalwood casket and the
seamless vesture, Cyril exclaimed:
Canst thou let me see it ? "
Why, no," she said; "he has them both.
The messenger from the wife of Chusa came
again, yesterday, to warn him. Herod means
to kill him, if he can compass it without rousing
the people. So Abigail sent to warn the disci-
ples. Two of them came, and they carried
away the clothing."
"Come," exclaimed Cyril. "I must see
him I must not wait! "
Lois exchanged a few words with Abigail, in
the house, and then the brother and sister were


hurrying along together through the streets of
Capernaum, toward the sea.
"Look! suddenly exclaimed Cyril. Other
people know. Crowds of them are going in the
same direction."
All wanted to see Jesus, as much as did Cyril
and Lois, and they did see him, but not as they
expected, for when they came out upon the
open, sandy slope, going down to the beach,
they suddenly stood still.
See," said Cyril, very much disappointed.
That is Simon's boat, and in it is the Master,
with the Twelve."
Where can they be going ? asked Lois.
He must escape from Herod," answered
Cyril. He will land on the other side of the
lake, below Bethsaida. That is in Philip's
land."
Philip was Herod's brother. When their fa-
ther, Herod the Great, died, his will divided
his kingdom among his three sons. The terri-
tory given to Philip was mainly north of the sea
of Galilee. Herod Antipas obtained Galilee
and a district called Perea, east of the Dead
Sea. All of Judea, Samaria, and Idumea were
given to a favorite son, Archelaus, but he was
now in disgrace, and the only real ruler of Judea
was Pilate.
Cyril and Lois knew these things very well,
and that Philip and Herod Antipas were not
friends, so that Jesus might be safe in the place
to which Simon's boat was taking him.
Lois," said Cyril, we have no boat, but
we can go there on foot, around the head of the
lake. It is only a few miles."
Let us go,".said Lois.
The same idea seemed to occur at once to
other people; and the crowd, with all who
followed behind it, turned toward the head of
the lake. Of course they would have further
to go than would a boat, but the people on foot
818






THE SWORDMAKER'S SON.


went faster than the heavy fishing-boat, tacking
to and fro in an unfavorable wind. So it came
to pass that .when the boat steered by Simon
drew near the shore east of Bethsaida, those
who were in it saw the beach already lined
with an eager throng, waiting for Jesus.
There was no escape from so touching an
appeal, for all who could had brought their sick
ones with them. The blind were there; the
lame, the deaf, the dumb, and there were new-
comers continually.
It was afterward written about it that, when
Jesus came out of the boat and saw so many
people, he had compassion on them, because
they were as sheep not having a shepherd, and
he began to teach them many things."
Cyril and Lois were there among the earlier
arrivals, and they had come meaning to stay.
Lois looked as if the last desire of her heart
were gratified when she saw that Jesus was
healing the helpless and the suffering.
As for Cyril, it seemed to him as if he had
not only succeeded in asking a question, but
also in getting a direct answer, for, before the
day was over, he heard the Master say:
"Suppose ye that these Galileans whose
blood Pilate mingled with their sacrifices were
sinners above all the Galileans because they
suffered such things? I tell you, Nay: but ex-
cept ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish. Or
those eighteen upon whom the tower in Siloam
fell, and slew them, think ye that they were
sinners above all men that dwelt in Jerusalem ?
I tell you, Nay: but except ye repent, ye shall
all likewise perish."
After all," said Cyril to Lois, Ben Nassur's
curse and the Law could have had nothing to
do with the fate of those men. But I am glad
that the Master has declared so."
"It is late," said Lois, after some time.
"How are all these people to find food in
this place? It is well that we brought some
food in a basket."
The sun was already sinking behind the far-
away hills beyond the palace-walls and towers
of Bethsaida when the Master paused in his
teaching to listen to something that was said to
him by one of his disciples.
Lois half heard what was said, and, after
thinking a moment, she whispered to Cyril:


"He has asked for something to eat. Tell
them thou hast five loaves and two fishes in
thy basket. If they want them for the Master,
tell Andrew."
Cyril stepped forward in time to hear the
words said:
This is a desert place, and the time is now
past. Send the multitude away, that they may
go into the villages and buy themselves vic-
tuals."
It was Philip who had spoken, and the look
on the Master's face was full of the kindly inter-
est it often wore when he was instructing those
he loved.
"Whence," he asked, shall we buy bread
that these may eat ? "
Philip answered him in sober earnest:
"Two hundred pennyworth of bread is not
sufficient for them that every one of them may
take a little."
But Cyril had already obeyed the suggestion
of Lois, ashamed as he did so at mentioning
the insignificant contents of his little basket.
But Andrew had read some kind of meaning in
the question of the Master, and he promptly
added:
There is a lad here, which hath five barley
loaves, and two small fishes: but what are they
among so many ? "
Make the men sit down," said Jesus, ad-
dressing his followers.
In a moment more, Cyril's little basket was
in the hands of the Master, and the multitude,
under the direction of the disciples, were ar-
ranging themselves, by ranks, in groups of fifties
and hundreds, over the broad green level, front-
ing the knoll from which he had been speaking.
Near the foot of the knoll lay the provision bas-
kets, a dozen of them, now empty, in which the
disciples were accustomed to carry their own
supplies.
What can they expect? thought Cyril, but
Lois whispered:
"Look! They have put the big baskets
down before him. Wait and see! "
The fishes and the loaves were in the hands
of Jesus, and he was looking upward while all
could hear his voice as he asked for a blessing
on that small provision.
The Twelve, at his command, took up the







THE SWORDMAKER'S SON.


baskets, and into each he broke both fish and
bread until it was full.
In awestruck silence then out went the
Twelve among the multitude. That which
was handed to the people was but such food
as they were accustomed to, and not all could
see the Master fill the baskets.
When the breaking of bread was ended, the
Master said:
"Gather up the fragments that remain, that
nothing be wasted."
It was rapidly done, and as the disciples re-
turned to the knoll, Lois exclaimed in a tone
of wonder:
"Look, Cyril, every basket is full! "
Didst thou hear him ?" said Cyril. He
bade the disciples take the boat and go to Beth-
saida. He will stay here, awhile, to dismiss the
people. Let us go out and get there before the
boat does. We can find a place to sleep."
Lois was tired, and did not feel able to walk
a long distance that evening, but Cyril never
seemed to be tired. They saw the disciples go.
They saw Jesus send away the multitude, while
the dangerous talk about an immediate uprising
against the Romans died out -perhaps because
there was no one to take a leading part after
the Twelve were gone. Then Jesus turned
away eastward, toward the mountains, and Cyril
and Lois walked slowly along the lake shore
toward Bethsaida.

CHAPTER XXV.

CYRIL'S ERRAND.

CYRIL and Lois found shelter for the night
among their hospitable friends near the head
of the lake. Cyril, however, was out of the
house in the gray dawn of the next morning.
I must see some of the Master's followers,"
he said to himself. "They will go after him
some time to-day, for he is yet on the other
side. I believe he means to visit Jerusalem
for the Passover, in spite of Herod's threats;
but if Herod can seize him on the way through
Galilee, he will put him to death as he killed
John."
It was, therefore, with a sense of duty that
Cyril went down to the shore, at the point near


which he believed Simon would be likely to
approach the land.
In a few minutes more he exclaimed, as he
stood on the beach peering out across the
morning sea:
"The Master is with them! How could
that happen? "
When they had come ashore, Cyril asked of
Philip, Did you go back after him ? "
No," was Philip's reply; we rowed against
the wind all night. The sail was of no use.
Not half an hour ago, out upon the lake, when
it was the roughest, he came to us." And then
he told Cyril that they had seen the Master
walking upon the water, and that Peter also
had been seen to walk upon its surface. But
Cyril, though deeply impressed, was prepared
for this miraculous power by what he had seen
when the Master stilled the storm.
After a little Cyril asked:
Is he going to Jerusalem for the Passover?"
"If he go," said Philip, "he must go
through Galilee in secret. We could join him
after he got into Samaria, or Judea, or into
some land beyond Herod's reach. The Ro-
mans will protect him."
"I cannot believe they will," said Cyril; and
he gazed at the Master as reverently as did the
rest, for a moment, and then he hurried away to
tell Lois. On the way, however, thinking of
the Romans, he remembered that he had heard
of their quarrels with the Herod family, and
that Ben Nassur and the Galileans, whom Pilate
had smitten at the Feast of the Tabernacles,
were well known to be enemies of Jesus.
Pilate is not his friend," said Cyril to Lois,
when they met; "but Pilate may protect him
in despite of Herod."
"All of Abigail's friends are going to Je-
rusalem," said Lois. "She has heard that
Mary is at Nazareth. They will all be there. I
can go with them."
I '11 give thee the rest of my money, nearly
all of it," said Cyril. I cannot travel with
him. It will be better for Abigail if I am not
with thee, for Ben Nassur and his friends might
trouble her; he is very bitter toward me. But
I shall be with the King when he goes into
Jerusalem. Father will come, too, for I will
carry him word that the Master is coming."


820






1896.] THE SWORDMAKER'S SON. 821

Cyril was enthusiastic. -Lois told him that He trudged along with the other Passover
their first duty was to go and see Abigail. pilgrims until he approached Samaria, but there
I will just stop there a moment," he said, he was recognized by some enemies of his fa-
"as I go through Capernaum. There is no their, and only by his fleetness of foot did he
time to spare now if I am to be in season." get away into the mountains which had so long
Cyril," she said,
" the Master did not
wear his new abba
yesterday "
He will wear it
when he rides into
Jerusalem," replied 41
Cyril. It is that for .-
which it was made;
and the inner vesture,
too. Father and all
the rest must be ready
for him."
Abigail, when they
came to her house,
did not share Cyril's
enthusiasm.
Yea, truly," she
said, I go to Jeru-
salem. Lois will go
there with me also,
because I go to re- ..
main, and do not re-
turn to Capernaum.
Lois will work with
me and be nearer
her father, but what- ----
Mary and the others
said was that they -. -.
would go if the Mas-
ter himself went."
I have heard that
he is going," said
Cyril positively, but _
his assertion was
stronger than his
convictions.
Even as he hurried
away, after bidding
an affectionate good- ,,'CYRIL,' SAID A LOW SWEET VOICE NEAR HIM, 'LOOK UP. FATHER AND I ARE HERE.'"
by to Lois, it came (SEE PAGE 822.)
more plainly into his mind that neither An- ago hidden him and Ezra. He did not now,
drew nor Philip had said more than that if as before, make his way northward to Mount
the Master should go to Jerusalem, he would Gilboa, but he was so long in scouting south-
have to go secretly in order to go safely. ward, from point to point, that he came very






THE SWORDMAKER'S SON.


near not reaching Jerusalem in time for the
Passover at all; and he was in continual dread
lest the New King should get to the holy city
without him.
"Father will be there," Cyril thought; "but
I want to be there as well. Lois and Abigail
will not have anything to hinder them. Lois
won't have to work at her embroidery and sew-
ing after the new kingdom begins. I can take
care of her, then."
He was very sure of that, for he meant to be
one of the King's captains, and he believed
that his father Ezra, the King's Swordmaker,
would be put in command of a whole legion
of men.
Cyril felt safe, and could walk along the Ro-
man highway after he entered Judea. He felt
almost grateful to Pilate when he saw the eagle
standards carried past him by some cohorts
that had marched all the way from Damascus.
They were not under the direction of Herod.
They were not preparing to attack any of the
Jews. He was willing to march behind them
all the rest of the way, until he saw them wheel
toward the great, fortified camp north of the
city.
Cyril himself plodded steadily on, for it was
getting late in the very day before the Passover,
and he must reach the city before the closing
of the gate at sunset.
I must see some of the disciples," he thought.
"Simon will tell me what it is best for me to
do next."
The Jericho gate was still open- the same
gate at which he had heard the news of the
death of John the Baptizer. Many, were going
out and in, unhindered by the guards. Not a
Roman among the stern soldiers who were
there on duty seemed to fear that the new king
of Israel was coming to drive him and his com-
rades away. Cyril thought of that, as he
pushed along past them; but he had not walked
a hundred yards beyond the gate before he was
suddenly halted. Right in the way before him
stood the frowning and imposing figure and face
S of Ben Nassur.
"Thou here ? exclaimed the rabbi. "What
part hast thou in the Temple, thou accursed
one? Thou shalt not eat the Feast with thy
people! Thy man of Nazareth dares not come.


He fled away unto the coasts of the heathen.
He is with the outcasts of Tyre and Sidon. Go,
thou-and may another tower in Siloam fall
on thee and thine! "
Cyril had not so far forgotten his old rever-
ence for the rabbis that he was able to make
any reply. He felt stunned by the news, if it
were true, and chilled to the heart by Ben Nas-
sur's ill-omened greeting. Isaac had evidently
put away all memory of the fact that Cyril and
his father had fought for him, and had saved
his life on the day of the massacre of the Gali-
leans in the Temple. What he had said now
was only in part true. Jesus of Nazareth was,
indeed, not to attend that feast, and he was
away toward the Sidonian border, preaching
and teaching and healing. And, in any event,
Herod the king was so occupied with other
matters just at the time, that he could give but
little attention to one he thought a mere vision-
ary one whose followers had hardly so much
as a bow and arrow among them all.
Cyril made his way onward as best he could
until at last he sat down wearily on one of the
stone steps leading up to the gate of the Tem-
ple, seemingly in utter dejection.
He is not coming," he muttered.
Cyril," said a low sweet voice near him,
"look up. Father and I are here. We knew
that thou wouldst be sure to come almost at
once to the Temple."
"My son," said Ezra, "the Master will
surely come in his own time. Thou must now
go with us, and after the feast I will tell thee
what to do."
It is so long to wait," said Cyril, but he
arose and went with them.
He heard many things on the way; not the
least of all was the news that Abigail and Lois
were not to live in the city itself, but at Joppa,
by the sea, where a kinswoman of Abigail's,
named Tabitha, had already a high reputation
and a thriving trade as a maker of garments, and
was in need of skilled women. She was now in
Jerusalem,'but they were all to return to Joppa
with her.
It will be better than being under Herod's
rule at Capernaum," said Lois; "and we can
wait there until we hear that the Master is
coming."


822






THE SWORDMAKER'S SON.


CHAPTER XXVI.

EZRA AND THE CENTURION.

THE Passover Feast, always a solemn season,
seemed to Cyril changed to a time of mourning,
so great was his disappointment. It was on the
contrary a time of joy to Lois. After so long a
separation, she was once more with her father and
brother; she was in Jerusalem, and they were
never tired of showing her the city. She could
attend the Temple services, in the Court of the
Women; but Cyril was unable to forget, even
while gazing with her upon the glories of the
Temple and its surroundings, that it was still
a Roman fort, with heathen guards, and that
the standard over the city gates was the impe-
rial eagle of Rome, and not the lion of the tribe
of Judah.
Lois was happy, and the enjoyment of her
companionship with her father and brother con-
tinued when, after the feast-days were ended,
they all set out together for Joppa.
"I have heard that it is a beautiful place,"
she said. "A city of gardens! And then,
Cyril, I have never seen the sea, nor any sail-
ing-vessels larger than the fishing-boats at Ca-
pernaum."
Cyril also was thinking of the sea; and all-
the more because of several serious talks he had
with his father. A clear-headed man was Ezra,
and he seemed to have utter confidence in the
wisdom of Jesus of Nazareth as a leader. It
was a matter of course that he had no confi-
dence whatever in the wisdom of Cyril, and
was ready not only to reprove him for his im-
patience and his low spirits, but to tell him what
to do.
The Cave must be kept more secret," said
Ezra. Not so many men must come there.
I shall be there only a part of the time. At
other times I can find work at Joppa. Lois
has a home. I tell thee, the Master will wait
till next Passover. He is now visiting different
towns, to make them ready. Thou wilt then be
a year older. What thou hast need of is to
know more. It were well for thee to know
somewhat of the sea. Thou must see Egypt
and thou must see Rome, that thou mayst be
of more use to the King. He may need, some


day, to send out a messenger who knows the
sea, and has seen other lands than this -"
"I am a good boatman," said Cyril.
"Sailor enough for Chinnereth lake," replied
his father; "but thou must see war-galleys and
fleets. I can give thee some money. Thou
canst earn more. There are ships from Joppa
to Alexandria. There are many from Alexan-
dria to Rome. Thou wilt go and thou wilt re-
turn before next Passover, and- the God of
Israel go with thee."
I will go exclaimed Cyril, hopeful again;
"I will learn all I can and I will come back
in season to march into Jerusalem with the
Master."
Cyril was not contented in Joppa, in spite of
its towers and temples, and its beautiful gar-
dens that are so fruitful to this day. He had
seen such things before. He could sympathize
with Lois, in her great delight concerning her
new home with Tabitha, after they reached it,
but he could not feel as she did when they went
down to the shore, and looked out on the blue
waves of the Mediterranean Sea. Not only
had he seen them before, but he was thinking
and dreaming of something beyond them.
He was more interested in the instruction his
father was giving him as to how he was to con-
duct himself after they should be separated.
And yet he found growing within him a sense of
confidence that he could take care of himself
after all. He was going out to see the world,
and the Mediterranean and the ships were to
take him where he wanted to go. Lois felt the
separation keenly, but she was more used than
other girls to living away from her own kin-
dred. She clung to Cyril more closely, day
after day, while he was waiting for the ship in
which his father had secured him passage to
Alexandria, the great seaport of Egypt.
Cyril," she said, "here we know even less
of the Master's work than we did at Caper-
naum. You will not hear anything about him
at Rome."
The sailing day came and Cyril bade Lois
good-by at the house of Tabitha. Both of the

older women gave him good advice, but Lois
could only weep and cling to him as if she could
not let him go. Ezra walked on with him, in
silence, down to the wharf. There he spoke in


823






THE SWORDMAKER'S SON.


a voice that told how deeply he felt at parting
from his son.
"The God of our fathers, the God of Abra-
ham, and of Isaac, and of Jacob, go with thee
and bring thee back to thine own land in peace!


"EZRA AT ONCE HELD OUT HIS STRONG AND PERFECT H

While thou art gone, keep thou thy covenant
with thy God and with thy father, and with thy
King that is to come for he will surely come,"
were Ezra's parting words.
Cyril had no words to answer, and the sailors


were lifting the mainsail of the ship, and a shout
summoned him hastily on board. The last
man he saw, as the swift vessel bore him away,
was the tall form of Ezra the Swordmaker,
standing on the wharf, and watching the sail
that was carrying his
only son out into the
world out among
all manner of perils
and all races of hea-
then.
It was indeed a
heathen world into
S which Cyril was sail-
S ing. It was a world
.. into which the Mas-
l ', tter had not yet come,
and in which the
scriptures that pro-
phesied his coming
were unknown.
The wind was fresh
Sand fair, the sea was
Sno rougher than Lake
Chinnereth itself, and
the vessel was a
speedy traveler. She
was not large, and
could be propelled
by oars when neces-
sary, but she was not
what. was called a
galley. Cyril had
seen numbers of these
in the harbor of Jop-
pa, and now he saw
more; and the more
he saw of these boats
the more horrible
they seemed to him.
They were in reality
I :e floating prisons for
the captives, slaves,
or the convicted
AND." (SEE NEXT PAGE.)
criminals who were
chained to the seats as rowers.
Cyril pitied them from the bottom of his
heart; for among the stories told him by his
father had been one concerning hundreds of
the bravest men of Judea and Galilee who had


824






THE SWORDMAKER'S SON.


been condemned to work until their death in the
galleys of Herod the Great. Beyond that, he
had another interest in the galleys, for they
were the ships of war also, and the Romans
had great fleets of them. Once the thought
came to him: If Jesus were King, he could
have no fleets of galleys. I do not believe he
would condemn anybody to row in them--
even Samaritans or Romans."
Cyril was at the same time conscious of a
fierce, revengeful bitterness of his own, which
made him long to send to some such punish-
ment every man of the oppressors of his people,
beginning with Herod Antipas himself. The
towers of the strong fortifications of the port
of Joppa were now growing small and dim in
the distance, whenever he looked back; but he
preferred looking forward, standing on the high
perch made by the cabin deck in the front part
of the old-fashioned ship, and gazing out as
if he were looking across the water into the
wonderful places he was soon to visit.
Away behind him, a trim, well-built house,
in one of the upper streets of Joppa, had a small
but very pretty garden behind it; and there, in
a kind of arbor, shadowed by a very luxuriant
almond-tree, sat Lois, all alone. Her eyes were
a little red, but she was not weeping. She was
thinking.
"Cyril will see very many wonderful things,"
she reflected. He will see those great cities
and the temples father told about, in Egypt,
and in Greece, and in Rome, too, if he goes
there. He will see how the people live, and
what they do. I long to travel, to go out into
the world."
Meanwhile, several miles east of Joppa, at a
place where two roads met, one of them the
road to Jerusalem, a squadron of Roman cav-
alry had halted, and in front of them a horse-
man, who seemed to be their commander,
leaned forward, looking down into the face of
Ezra the Swordmaker. He had been on his
way to perform his errand at the Cave before
going to work at Joppa.
"I know thee," said the horseman. I am
Regulus, the centurion. Thou canst not es-
cape me now. I will send thee back to Samaria
to be condemned."
"If thou hast aught against me, tell me what
VOL. XXIII.- I04.


it is," said Ezra. I have not harmed thee or
thine."
Ezra had been keeping his right hand cov-
ered by his mantle, and now the centurion
laughed aloud as he exclaimed:
Knowest thou not that thou art a marked
man? Hold out thy right hand!"
They were, except that the soldier spoke in
Latin, the very words that Ezra had heard the
Master speak in the synagogue at Capernaum,
and he at once held out his now strong and
perfect hand for the centurion to see.
"Am I so at fault ? "said the Roman. "Get
thee hence. -Thou art not the man. His hand
was withered to the wrist. Ride on, men!
But he is very like him. I should know the
old smith, too."
On they rode and on walked Ezra, but no-
thing on earth could have convinced that cen-
turion that he had really seen the same useless,
withered hand that had at one time abandoned
the hammer and the sword, as its owner thought,
forever.
CHAPTER XXVII.

CYRIL AT ROME.

MONTH after month went by, and Lois was
quietly happy in her new home in Joppa. Her
father was near, and came to visit her frequently.
She had never known a kinder, better woman
than was Tabitha, whose Greek name was Dor-
cas. She was a friend to the poor, and she was
loved by the bright-eyed daughter of Ezra the
Swordmaker. Moreover, she seemed never to
tire of hearing Lois and Abigail tell of the do-
ings and sayings of the great Galilean prophet,
the Son of David.
For that matter, his name was in the mouths
of all men. Stories came with all travelers from
the north, or from Jerusalem, of the marvels
which still accompanied him as he journeyed
hither and thither. Not only were his cures
even more wonderful, but he had again fed a
great multitude with a mere handful of bread;
and it was said that he had more than once re-
called the dead to life.
Lois was thinking of him one day about noon.
She had gone up to the housetop. It was a
favorite resort, for there she could be alone; and


s896.3






THE SWORDMAKER'S SON.


the housetops of that part of Joppa overlooked
the harbor and the sea.
"He has never preached in Joppa," she
thought. People here have to go to Jerusa-
lem to hear him- and oh, I would I knew
where Cyril is, and what he is doing to-day!"
She would not have been by any means so
happy if she had known, or if she could have
read his thoughts.
Rome was a mighty city in those days. It
had many a mile of streets and avenues, reach-
ing out into the surrounding country, until no-
body could tell where the city ended, although
everybody knew that its center was on a hill at
the capitol. Far from the capitol, but still
within the city, was the amphitheater, or circus,
where the most wonderful shows were given
that the world has ever known. There wild
beasts and men were made to fight by thou-
sands, for the shows were murderous, and the
vast sandy area of the amphitheater was often
stained with blood.
Cyril was walking along a narrow, crooked
street, that led away from the capitol in the
direction of the circus.
My last copper coin is gone," he said. "I
can earn nothing. The city swarms with un-
employed freemen. There are slaves to do all
the work. I shall starve, for I am not a slave,
and have no master to feed me. Were I a Ro-
man I would be fed by the authorities; but I
am only a Jew. Only a Jew ?" He straight-
ened up proudly. I am glad to be a Jew,
and not a Roman. But nobody could capture
this place-I suppose I shall die here. I have
had no food since yesterday morning, and but
little for days before that. I shall never see
Lois or father again, for I shall not be at Jeru-
salem next Passover. Jesus of Nazareth will
be there; but I fear he cannot take Jerusalem,
and as for Rome-- it is quite impossible to
overcome the veteran legions that I have seen
at Rome. All the world could not conquer
them!"
So all the Romans believed, not dreaming of
the days to come, when swarms of men from
the North were to slay their legions in the very
streets along which Cyril had been walking
during those weary days.
How endless they seemed as he walked aim-


lessly on! He was ragged and hungry, and
without hope, for he was a stranger in a strange
land. His heart grew heavier, and there was a
mist before his eyes.
I have seen Egypt," he thought, and the
pyramids and the temples of the old heathen
gods. And I saw many Grecian cities on my
way here. I can talk better Greek and better
Latin. How hungry I am!-and so thirsty,
too!"
At that moment he almost ran against a wall,
and he stood still. It was one side of a vast
marble arch at the main entrance to the circus,
and, as he looked up, he saw a placard, with an
inscription in several languages. He could read
some of them. They were all alike, and they
told him that the Emperor's prefect of the cir-
cus had arranged for prize foot-races. One of
these was free to all who could pass the trial
race for admission. There was to be a prize of
ten sestertia, and Cyril's brain whirled a little at
the thought of so much money.
More than six hundred shekels!" he ex-
claimed, after a calculation-" and I can yet run!
It says that the sub-prefect will see all who ap-
ply." He stood gazing at the placard and read-
ing it aloud. Suddenly a voice near him said:
"That he will, and he will scourge you well
if you fail at the test. Can you run ? You look
like it. Come!"
Black as jet was the face of the dwarfish fig-
ure that Cyril at once turned to follow through
the arch and a side door and along a tile-floored
passage. In a few minutes more he stood in
the presence of a richly dressed official who
for a moment eyed him sternly. The dwarf
had addressed this great man very reverently,
calling him Crispus, but a strange thought
flashed into the mind of Cyril, for he had never
seen a Roman whose face was like that of the
sub-prefect.
0 Jewish boy, who art thou ?" asked Cris-
pus, in Aramaic, with an accent that made Cy-
ril's heart beat.
I am Cyril Ben Ezra, of the house of Kish,"
replied Cyril, staring hard at the grim, iron-
mouthed official, for something in the man's
face seemed familiar.
"Amen!" said Crispus. "Answer in thine
own tongue, for thou art a Galilean. I am Reu-


826






THE SWORDMAKER'S SON.


ben Ben Nassur, of Cana. -I am thy kinsman.
Knowest thou aught of my house ? "
"Isaac the Rabbi is well," replied Cyril, and
on he went, for Reuben, or Crispus, asked him
many questions, and they talked in Hebrew,
which none who came near them could under-
stand. Perhaps one reason why Crispus was
sub-prefect was his gift of tongues. Perhaps
another reason was plain when he said of the
circus:
What is it to me or thee if all the heathen
slay one another ? Thou shalt run. I will give
thee a week of training before the trial, but know
that I cannot save thee from the scourge if thou
fail before the prefect. Mark thou this, also -
forget that thou art a Jew until thy feet have told
Tallienus that thou art a good runner. Thou
hast nothing to do with the Law whilst thou art
a beast in the Roman circus."
Bitter indeed was the cup of poverty that
Cyril was drinking. He had put away his
pride, driven by starvation, and now a brother
of Ben Nassur himself was bidding him put
aside his religion. No opportunity for answer,
yes or no, was given, however, and he was led
away by the dwarf to one of the outbuildings
of the amphitheater. It was, as he at once dis-
covered, a kind of jail in which were kept the
men who were in training for the races. Many
of them were mere slaves put there by their
owners, in hope that they might win a prize
for their masters. At all events Cyril was to
have shelter and food, but the boarding-house
or jail of the runners adjoined great dens of wild
animals, and he was kept awake by the roaring
of many lions; for a thunderstorm swept over
Rome, and the imprisoned kings of forest or
plain responded with thunderous roars of their
own making.
In the morning it was a relief to Cyril to find
how important he was among the motley crowd
who were there to get a right to run for the
prize. There were scores of them, and none
could hope for favors. Cyril could not, cer-
tainly, for Crispus seemed to have entirely for-
gotten that he had ever been in Galilee. There
were training races, that very morning, and one


of them was also a first trial of speed. It was
severe, they said, but when it was over and only
three out of more than twenty were permitted
to train longer, Cyril said confidently:
"There was not a runner among them, ex-
cept the Greek."
A tall, dignified man, in a plain white robe
with a broad purple border, stood near him.
Cyril knew that the robe was the "toga," and
its wearer needed no ornament to show that he
was the person of highest rank among those
who watched the runners. Not a word did he
speak now, but looked at Cyril from head to
foot, and then beckoned to Crispus. The grim
brother of Rabbi Isaac hurried forward, bowing
very low.
"See thou to it," said the Roman. "Train
thou that young panther well. I see no other
that will stand a chance with the Athenian
slave of Tallienus."
Most noble Valerianus," responded Crispus,
"thou art an admirable judge of men, but I
will dare remind thee. Be thou sure that
Tallienus's slave will run well -but the course
is long. Yonder youth is of the hardiest race
on earth."
"It is well," said Valerianus, coldly. "I
will send him to the quarries if he lets the
Athenian beat him."
It was a hard saying, but Cyril already un-
derstood that a Roman noble considered a
young Jew like himself of much less importance
than a chariot-horse.
The training-school of the circus was no place
for favoritism; but Crispus now had a special
reason for giving his young Galilean kinsman a
full week of preparation before testing him.
Cyril quickly recovered from the effects of his
days of hunger; but nothing could take from
him a certain sense of shame that he was to
take part in the games of the heathen and to
run a race to amuse the rabble of Rome. A
more cheerful thought followed, and he con-
soled himself with the reflection: "It is really
not against the Law. Ben Nassur would say
that. And if I win a prize I can get back to
Jerusalem in time for the Passover."


(To be continued.)


827








































"'HO, MOTLEY! I HAVE CAUGHT YOU WELL


By ZITELLA COCKE.

IT happened that a fool at court
One day grew weary of his sport,
And, finding a sequestered nook,
He sat him down to read a book,
Quite satisfied he left no trace
Which might betray his hiding-place.

Now, Lionel, the Queen's pet page,
Was always pleased a war to wage
With the King's Fool, whose merry chaff
Made all the royal household laugh.
And oft the Queen had said: "Forsooth,
Your Majesty, my pretty youth


Hath such a pretty wit--your Fool,
To outwit him, must go to school!"
And at this praise young Lidnel
With pompous pride would strut and swell,
And swagger with a lordly air
That made his gracious mistress stare.

So, while the Fool pored o'er his book,
With serious, abstracted look,
A head of golden ringlets peered
The curtain through; and boldly sneered
The dainty Master Lionel:
"Ho, Motley! I have caught you well!


5






A FOOL'S WIT.


Pray, will you tell me what new rule
Gives learning to a motley fool?
I '11 call the butler and the cook
To see the King's Fool read a book;
I '11 wager, though you look so sage,
You have not turned a single page!
But when you do-ha, ha!-call me!
So brave a sight I fain would see.
Good sooth, this is your cleverest joke;
I '11 laugh until my sides are broke!"

" Pray, leave me now in peace to hide
And go your way!" the Fool replied.
"And though your manners suit me ill,


In silver shoon and silken hose,
And satin double, like the rose,
The Queen's pet page stood at her side.
The Fool, in garments crimson-pied,
Had taken modestly a seat
Below his royal Master's feet.
Loud called the King: "Subjects, to-day
Let sport and merriment have sway.



flI


"YOUNG LIONEL WOULD SWAGGER WITH A LORDLY AIR."


I promise you shall have your will;
And when I turn a page, I swear,
Young Malapert, you shall be there!"

Anon arrived the festive day
Which marked the merry month of May;
And court and courtiers all were seen
Arrayed in gorgeous gold and green.


For he best serves his King's behalf
Who grants the merriest, heartiest laugh;
And keenest wit and drollest pranks
Shall most deserve our gracious thanks."

Now, none the King's behest obeyed
More than young Lionel, who played
His tricks and antics with a grace






A FOOL'S WIT.


That made the wittiest give place.
And many a shaft of ridicule
He spent upon the patient Fool,
Who read his book, nor seemed to see
The pretty page's pleasantry.


Turns o'er a page; but thinks he 's wise,
Because he stares with both his eyes!"

High o'er his head he raised the cup;
Nor once the silent Fool looked up.


. .^r -

HERES TO THIS DUNCE



"'HERE'S TO THIS DUNCE!"


Then Lionel grew overbold,
And, seizing the Queen's cup of gold,-
With ruby wine filled to the brim,-
He cried in scorn: "Ho! here 's to him,
My comrades gay! here 's to this dunce,
Who reads all day, and never once


Alas! we know there 's many .a slip
Betwixt the sparkling cup and lip.
His triumph was but short for lo!
The Fool adroitly moved his toe;
And in a trice, before the throne,
The pretty Lionel lay prone!


830






A FOOL'S WIT.


4 .'
UA


"THE PRETTY LIONEL LAY PRONE !


Then peals of laughter, loud and long,
Reechoed through the merry throng;
While, with an air most innocent,
The Fool sat -on his book intent.
"For shame! for shame!" uprose the Queen.
"The jolliest prank I 've ever seen!"
Exclaimed the King in boisterous glee;
"Fair Queen, 't was clever, you '11 agree!
Good Fool, I see you are no fool,
I dub you hence Lord- of Misrule;.


You 've turned the
too!"


laugh and tables


"Your Majesty, why this ado?
I fain would read to please my taste,
And save the time that runs to waste;
For reading, Sir, I ask no wage,
But must, you see, turn o'er a page!"
At the Fool's speech all laughed the more,
And louder than they laughed before!








IV.


I,
,-"
=I










EUGENE FIELD.*


BY MARY J. REID AND HENRIETTA DEXTER FIELD.


ALL boys and girls who really enjoy Eugene their heads nodding back and forth as if they
Field's "Love Songs of Childhood," and his were alive.
" With Trumpet and Drum," find that these But to-day they stand quiet and still in the
poems seem to introduce them to much that library.
is charming in home life. It is as if in walking Ruth, whom he called Little Sister Girl,"
down a dark alley they lost their way. Sud- was sometimes left to his charge in the morning
denly a little light is seen flashing through a while the nurse was busy. At the side of his
keyhole. In a moment they find themselves writing-table, Mr. Field always had a large high
in a room full of sunshine and happy little clothes-basket for a waste-paper basket. Upon
children. In this magical room, furnished by this pile of useless papers he would seat Little
Eugene Field's imagination, Santa Claus, the Sister Girl" like a tiny queen on her paper
good Fairy Godmothers, Fairyland, and the throne, and behind her he would place a fish-
Land of Nod are real persons and places, ing-rod with some one of his precious trinkets
Like Edmund Spenser or Sir Walter Scott, attached to it. There she would sit for a long
Eugene Field lived in an atmosphere of en- time quiet and happy while her father wrote his
chantment, and more than half believed in column for the Record newspaper, he stopping
witches and hobgoblins. Odd as it may seem, frequently to sing queer little verses to her, or
to the end of his life he was afraid to enter a tell her funny stories that he" made up" on the
dark room alone, and disliked being left alone, spur of the moment. She would, on her part,
Under ordinary circumstances rarely did he smile at him in a most appreciative way, thereby
enjoy being left by himself. To the day of inspiring him to write some of his sweetest child
his death he had the heart and impulses of a verses, such as Wynken, Blynken and Nod "
boy, and loved animals, gorgeous colors, per- and many of those lullaby poems in the Love
fumes, and those mechanical toys which wind Songs of Childhood."
up and go with a clickity noise, just as a child When Posey was a little fellow, the only way
loves them. His home was a small toy-shop, that it was possible to entice him to take an af-
the toys being of all kinds and descriptions, but ternoon nap was for his father to promise to tell
he loved the mechanical toys the best. Every him an animal story. Hand in hand they
Saturday morning Eugene Field went home would "trig-trog" together to "Gene's room"
laden with toys--not alone for his own babies, (as Mr. Field's room was called), and there on
Roswell and Ruth, but for a number of child the bed, with his arm around his baby boy, Mr.
friends living at Buena Park, Chicago. For Field would tell weird and marvelous fairy-
the girls he bought dolls by the dozen, and stories. But at length 'even these could not
his little boy Roswell, whom he nicknamed prevail to keep the beautiful brown eyes open,
"Posey," had more elephants than were ever and then both storyteller, and listener would
shot by African travelers. Shortly before he go off together to that dreamland which Mr.
died, Mr. Field bought a big elephant and a Field has so happily described. It is a great
big brown bear for Posey. Every time any pity that some one did not write down or
one called upon him (it made no difference remember these "Sleepy Stories," as I have
who it was) the elephant and the big brown heard that they were among the most beautiful
bear were wound up, and away they would go, and exquisite bits of fantasy ever narrated to a
The authors wish to thank Mrs. Eugene Field for her helpful courtesy to them while this little paper was
in course of preparation.
832






EUGENE FIELD. 833
little child. Whether Poseywill be able to recall as if his house were a part of him. It is an
any of them when he gets older, it is impossible old-fashioned two-story farm-house with a wide
to say. He is a manly little fellow with a very porch, to which has been added a large cir-
imaginative brain, and is fond of inventing sto- cular wing with an outside chimney such as the
Southerners love. As you
enter the hall, you notice
an elaborately ornamented
old English tall clock of
the kind usually known
in this country as Grand-
,'. father's Clock." It is one
.' of three such clocks in the
S'. house; a second stands
I on a stair-landing, after
the manner of Longfel-
Smlow's Old Clock on the
,, .Stair," and a third was
S in Eugene Field's sleep-
Sing-room. The last one
has a gong in it like a
d .- D country dinner-bell, and
Sl i clangs the hour with a
!-3 loud metallic ring. In
-A the same room he had a
"freak clock" made en-
tirely of wood, that ticks
like a hammer striking
hard wood. In the library
there is a quaint little one
Made with a see-saw,- a
wee boy and girl sitting
upon a log to regulate the
1: pendulum. This is a very
well behaved little piece
of mechanism, as it makes
no noise and is really
pretty. Contrasted with
it, standing near Field's
writing-table, is a plain
New England kitchen
clock such as our grand-
mothers used in their light,
EUGENE FIELD. (FROM A PHOTOGRAPH BY VAN LANN AND MIROSKY, CHICAGO.) airy kitchens. It is a

ries for himself, all of them beginning with the medium-sized affair of mahogany with a glass
phrase, Once upon a time." The two elder door, on the lower half of which are painted
children, whom their father nicknamed Trotty impossible red roses and forget-me-nots. It
and "Daisy," have very charming manners, and is a good old domestic clock, and went on
may have inherited their father's talent, faithfully ticking away when the others were
One should not always judge a man by his cranky and would not keep the time regularly.
house, but in the case of Eugene Field it seemed As you enter the house, the library is on the
VOL. XXIII.--o5.






EUGENE FIELD.


left hand. All around the walls of the room
are bookcases. Suppose we look at the case
beyond the window, which might be called
the Fairy Corner. Here are gathered books of
fairy lore from all parts of the world, for there
was hardly an old bookstore in London, Paris,
or Berlin, which Mr. Field did not know well.
In this wonderful fairy corner are Cossack
fairy tales, Eastern fairy tales, legends of the
French provinces, legends of Ireland, Norway,
Germany, Spain, New England, and all the
modern English fairy stories.
Before we go upstairs to Eugene Field's room,
the one which holds his choicest treasures,
it is necessary to remind you again that he
had a child's love of grotesque toys and of bar-
baric colors and effects. He was especially
fond of red. The room in which he died is pa-
pered with a fantastic, swirling pattern on a red
ground, which is absolutely exasperating to those
people who prefer soft browns and dull reds.
Few persons understand what his idea was in
selecting this red paper with its grotesque yet
conventional swirl. In Henry B. Fuller's With
the Procession" that author tells about a Chi-
cago woman named Susan Bates, who furnished
her whole house magnificently except one little
room. Upon this room she spent a great deal
of money, and visited many old-fashioned stores,
in order to furnish it like the primitive one she
had occupied when a girl in her father's house.
Now this was partly Eugene Field's idea in fur-
nishing his own room. He was fond of gro-
tesque effects, he loved red passionately, and he
wanted a reminder of the furnishings of a cen-
tury ago. Where he found that gorgeous red
paper, or the old-fashioned calico for the red
curtain, it would be difficult to tell, but he had
a knack for discovering quaint things which
other people pass by without notice. When
it is added that the rugs on the floor are also
red, perhaps it may be imagined that this room
is hideous. But it is not. The long book-case
on one side, the white column in the middle
around which are arranged shelves holding Mr.
Field's treasures, and a gray screen repeating
with a slight variation the same singular swirl
that is upon the walls, relieve the eye to such
an extent that the effect is harmonious.
As you enter the room, you are confronted


with two hideous figures. An outlandish Japan-
ese figure is suspended from the wall by one
arm. In the other it holds three Japanese gongs
fastened together so as to make a loud sound
when struck with the red stick. The other is the
face of a hobgoblin attached to the headboard
of his bedstead. Field pretended that he bought
it to frighten away his babies when they insisted
upon interrupting him while he was writing; but,
like their father, they were so fond of the ludi-
crous that the strange faces the monster would
make when certain strings were pulled only made
them laugh; so the intended bugaboo but added
to the attractions of the room.
On the shelves one may find a strange collec-
tion of quaint bottles of every conceivable shape
and size, and Mr. Field hunted many shops for
those candelabra which our grandmothers loved,
- those with glass pendants through which a
child may distinguish the seven colors of the
rainbow. He also had a queer collection of
canes, candlesticks, and baby shoes. Not alone
the first shoes his own babies wore, with the toes
and heels worn out, but wooden shoes, and even
glass shoes, reminding one of Cinderella's glass
slipper. There are also two strange wooden
horses, one used by Mr. Toole, the English
actor, when he played "The Cricket on the
Hearth," and the other, daubed with a few spots
of paint, used by Mr. Jefferson in the same
play. Neither must one forget Mrs. Haw-
thorne's ginger-jar, nor the ax Mr. Gladstone
gave Eugene Field. The ax is suspended above
the window.
In the bookcase, standing upon a shelf be-
hind the glass doors, there is a small inner
Japanese bookcase holding what Eugene Field
called his "little books." He was prouder of
his collection of little books than of anything
else he owned. There may be seen a copy of
the smallest edition of Horace ever published,
a 42mo, and the little dictionary so tiny that
a magnifying-glass has to be used in reading it.
But the book in this collection which most inter-
ests young readers is a little old "New England
Primer." These primers have became so scarce
that every New Englander who is fortunate
enough to own one keeps it under lock and key.
Nearly all of them have blue board covers, and
are about four inches long and three inches


834







EUGENE FIELD.


-I


/ / u////


H||gBt 4M1 ten I uh u
cB ux 5&4& &4iX Rbe
.T ow-X att wl -W,

7-fco~t; nM K,^.t fe^w







if-
4 ''iS4 L u 4ifL e










ORIGIA LOWNED ,M R A. cI
41o. -&Wo p, 4&_e Z.)



ORIGINAL OWNED BY MRS C. BALLANTYNE, CHICAGO.


wide. They contain many funny little rhymes,
very quaintly illustrated. All of the various
editions have a hideous picture of The Burn-
ing of Mr. John Rogers." The illustrators, to
make this picture more thrilling, always had
the wife of John Rogers and his nine children
standing by to witness the burning. In the
"Love Affairs of a Bibliomaniac" Field calls
this New England Primer his first love." It
was amusing to hear the two brothers, Eugene
and Mr. Roswell Martin Field, recite couplets
from this little book, as they knew everything
in it from cover to cover. If one of them
happened to quote:

In Adam's fall
We sinned all,

the other would recite the next couplet, and so
they would keep on through the forty-nine lines
till one or the other of them reached the well-
known conclusion:

Zaccheus, he
Did climb a tree
His Lord to see.

This primer, so runs the story as written by
Mr. Field, was read with a little girl named
Captivity Waite. Now it is interesting to know
that there was once a real Captivity Waite. She
was one of Eugene Field's ancestors, and was
known in the Colonial records as the "Can-
ada babe." Her mother was captured by the
Indians at Hatfield, Massachusetts, during
the French and Indian wars, and the babe
Captivity was born in Canada. They gave
the poor little child this dreadful name to com-
memorate her mother's capture, and perhaps to
make Captivity thankful all her life for their
rescue. By untiring energy her father and uncle
succeeded in releasing the prisoners captured
at Hatfield. The following touching old let-
ter from Captivity's father may be found in the
records of the Field family.
ALBANY, May 23, 1678.
To MY LOVING FRIENDS AND KINDRED IN HAT-
FIELD :
These few lines are to let you understand that
we are arrived at Albany now with the cap-
tives and that we stand in need of assistance
S for my charges is very great and heavy,
and therefore any that have any love
e Be/ to our condition let it move them
to come and help us in this strait.


sli-NOLE-N







EUGENE FIELD.


Three of the captives are murdered, Old Gorman Plimp-
ton, Samuel Foote's daughter, Samuel Russell; all the
rest are alive and well and now at Albany, namely:
Obadiah Dickinson and his child, Mary Foote and her
child, Hannah Jennings and three children, Abigail Al-
lis, Abigail Bartholomew, Goodman Coleman's children,
Samuel Kellog, my wife and four children and Quintin
Stockwell. I pray you hasten the matter for it requireth
great haste, stay not for the Sabbath nor the shoeing of
horses. We shall endeavor to meet you at Canterhook
[Kinderhook], it may be the Housatonick. We must
come softly because of our wives and children. I pray
you hasten them, stay not night nor day for the matter
requireth haste, bring provisions with you for us. At
Albany written from mine own hand, as I have affected
to you all that were fatherless be affected to me now and
hasten the matter, and stay not and ease me of my
charges. You shall not need to be afraid of any ene-
mies. Your loving Kinsman,
BENJAMIN WAITE.

On the wall of Mr. Field's library hangs a
quaint drawing by Madame Modjeska of a
witch waiting behind a tree to do some mis-
chief to a very straight-laced Puritan, who is
rapidly approaching. One feels that he will
surely reach the tree in a few minutes, and
then, oh, then,-what will happen!
A very odd dinner was given to Madame
Modjeska not long before Field died. His
family and servants were out of town. But not
daunted by that, Mr. Field invited a large party
to his house, and gave it out" that he was
going to cook the dinner himself. Of course
the invited guests all accepted this unique invi-
tation. He 'really knew how to cook some
dishes very nicely, when the servants were
at hand to assist him; but he rather over-ap-
preciated his own powers as a cook when,
alone, he tried to get up a regular dinner."
There was but one course, for the company
wished to see Mr. Field more than to eat
their dinner, and knowing his weakness for
practical jokes, they were afraid to eat very
much. So far as the eating was concerned, the
dinner was a failure; but a merrier party never
sat down to table. It was a real feast in the
Land of Bohemia-so many bright and witty
things were said there.
Eugene Field's own childhood was unspeak-
ably dreary. His beautiful mother (whose pic-
ture is one of the library treasures at the white
farm-house) died when he was very small. His
grandmother, who lived at New Fane, Vermont,


was a very good but an exceedingly rigorous
woman. To their cousin, Miss French, at Am-
herst, the two brothers, Eugene and Roswell
Martin, owed much that was agreeable in their






*7...





A, !





,..- "", ",,









ROSWELL FRANCIS FIELD. ("POSEY.")
(FROM A PHOTOGRAPH BY STEIN, CHICAGO.)

early lives. They loved Amherst with a peculiar
affection. Particularly were they attached to
Miss Lavinia Dickinson, the sister of the poet and
writer, Emily Dickinson. She is a quaint little
gentlewoman, whose house and furniture have
not been changed in a single detail since the
early part of the century. No one mourned Mr.
Field's death more than this gentle old lady.
She knows many of his poems by heart; and
"Little Boy Blue" is the one that she reads
with a quivering voice and eyes full of tears.
To fully understand Eugene Field, one must
have an inborn love for old books, old furniture,
old china, and old things to which some story
is attached; for, as Mrs. Field once remarked,
There was something of the quaintness of
past ages in everything he said and did." And
one must also love little children, and the fire-
side stories which have come down to us from
forgotten ages.


836










RECOLLECTIONS OF EUGENE FIELD.


By MARTHA NELSON YENOWINE.


EUGENE FIELD was
der spirit and boundles
and held the love of
men and women; for
pealed to young and o
ture responded to the n
He was a great lov
constantly making pets
fond of birds, but,
as he disliked to see
them caged, he look-
ed forward to the
time when he could
add to his new home
a good conservatory,
where the birds might
find a home and fly
in and out among the
plants. After he had
once become attach-
ed to a pet of any
kind, it was exceed-
ingly hard for him to
give it up. For sev-
eral years he paid
the board of two old
dogs at a farm. Some
of his friends thought
this a foolish expense;
but he said he would
not have the dogs
killed, as they had
been faithful to him
in their younger days,
and he did not be-
lieve in deserting old
friends. Severalyears
ago a Jerusalem donke3
boys, and they named it
After they became too
it was a serious question
For some time he was b
His board bill soon bec;


a man of generous, ten-
s sympathy. He gained
little children, and of
in his writings he ap-
ld, and every gentle na-
lagic of his honest verse.
er of animals, and was
of them. He was very


ter. But Mr. Field would not have him sold,
for fear that the children's old comrade might
fall into unkind hands. At last a friend in
Kentucky offered a home for the donkey, and
there he is now, spending his last days in luxu-
rious ease on a blue-grass farm.
At one time Mr. Field and a party of friends
were making a short visit to a Southern city,


O Te his e







lb V Wa vt Wua.A U40A -5













Don Csar de Buena. out to the Blind Asylum, as it was one of the








old to drive with him, interesting places to which strangers were taken.
I P n -
















what to do with "Don." Mr. Field declined to join the party, saying:
what to do with Don." Mr. Field declined to join the party, saying:
boarded at a livery stable. Nothing would induce me to visit the place.
ame quite a serious mat- I simply could not stand it to see those poor little
837







RECOLLECTIONS OF EUGENE FIELD.


blind children. If I could help them, yes, I
would go; but just to go out of curiosity, it is
out of the question." Walking along the street
with him I have seen him go to the side of the
walk to avoid stepping on a beetle. I have
often heard him say to other people while stroll-
ing in a country lane: "Don't step on that,"
pointing down at a bug or a spider in the path.
When his children played with little kittens
or chickens he often cautioned them to be gen-
tle, fearing that they would unconsciously hurt
the little creatures. He would say to them,
" Be very careful, for you know the little
chicken thinks you a great big giant."
Mr. Field visited our home at one time when
my mother was present. She is sixty-eight
years old, and while she is fond of reading,
and thoroughly enjoys the same pleasures which
younger people do, she is very deaf; so deaf
that it is impossible for her to hear at all
without the use of an ear-trumpet. Every
night after dinner at our request Mr. Field
would kindly read for us one of his poems or
stories. My mother tried to follow the read-
ing by watching Mr. Field's changes of expres-
sion. In this way, and by having his books in
hand as he gave the different pieces, she gained
a fair idea of what he was reading. This, how-
ever, did not satisfy Mr. Field. He would
have her get her trumpet, and, sitting close
to her, would recite verse after verse, through
the trumpet, just as he had given them for us.
It is needless to say that this gracious act of
kindness was deeply appreciated by all the
members of the family.
One day he sent a young friend of mine this
little verse, which has not before been pub-
lished:
The charming Miss Daisy O'Brien
Received from a certain bold "lion"
Some verses so nice
That she cried in a trice:
"I am not on earth but in Zion! "
CHICAGO, December 4, 1893. EUGENE FIELD.

It is written on a sheet of Japan paper, which
has been decorated with a conventional vine
forming a border. Here and there in the vine
are several of the funny little birds, which the
poet could draw so cleverly. The decoration
is done in colored inks, and drawn with a pen.


I have in my possession a piece of card-
board, not much larger than a postal-card. On
one side is a silhouette of Mr. Field, on the
other he has written in his delicate handwriting
the poem called "Christmas Treasures." The
following is a facsimile:



't eictuiy Kei &JKJ WMW,





Y"4 u t i.A fl &w









n& m
^.* vtw ^ -*eL" 4 pwo












Sa- c..eA, t. qA,,a4a,.
























FACSIMILE OF EUGENE FIELD'S FIRST POEM, "CHRISTMAS
TREASURES. ORIGINAL OWNED BY G. H. YENOWINE.
(SEE PAGE 875).
^^^ ^^r^ t IW ~-^^ Z'^-~--

^*^ ^&^^^_~c~ j~;3, "
j ^ r~Netl:u~J ^-' ^
u13e^ &^t'YpuEr
csee "Y^^y Ree^
r-^ ? ^4 B,
""OLYY^)^+^t;OB^(







A












(SEE PAGE 875).






RECOLLECTIONS OF EUGENE FIELD.


A story has been going the rounds of the
newspapers, which is partly true; but it puts
facts in a false light, as stories always do when
only half told. It was originally printed sev-
eral years ago, and ran as follows: Mrs. Field
had laid by enough money to pay the quarterly
instalment upon Mr. Field's life-insurance, and
she handed him the sum to make the payment.
On his way down town he met a man who had
a large collection of butterflies, consisting of
eight hundred specimens, which so fascinated
Mr. Field that he forgot all about the life-in-
surance, and immediately purchased the entire
collection.
The truth is that Mr. Field did start out to
pay for or buy something which was needed,
but not to make a life-insurance payment. Also,
he did meet an old man with a collection of
butterflies. The old man was a gentleman
he knew, a friend who had lost his wife and
two children. Besides, the week before, his
house with all its contents had been destroyed
by fire. The man was absolutely without means,
home, or friends. He happened to have the
butterflies left, as at the time of the fire they
were in the house of a friend. When Mr.
Field returned, he said:
I did not want the butterflies, but I had
to give that poor old man the money, and
he would not take it unless I accepted the
collection."
It was simply one more instance of the fact
that the gentle-hearted poet could not leave a
friend in misery while he had the money in his
pocket to help him.
For years it was Mr. Field's habit to write
personal verse about his children. There are
a number of scrap-books filled with these little
poems and quaint rhymes which have never
been seen outside of the home circle. When
Roswell Francis Field, usually called Posey,"
was born, he received many beautiful presents
from the friends of Mr. and Mrs. Field--por-
ringers, spoons, cups, and other gifts serving a
baby's joys and needs. The one thing lacking,
his father thought, was a silver plate, which
he purchased for Posey. For this plate Mr.
Field composed the following beautiful verse,
which was afterward engraved in facsimile
upon the plate:


"INSCRIPTION FOR MY LITTLE SON'S SILVER
PLATE.

"Unto Roswell Francis Field his father Eugene
Field giveth this Counsel with this Plate.
September 2, 1893.

"WHEN thou shalt eat from off this plate,
I charge thee: Be thou temperate;
Unto thine elders at the board
Do thou sweet reverence accord;
Though unto dignity inclined,
Unto the serving-folk be kind;
Be ever mindful of the poor,
Nor turn them hungry from the door:
And unto God, for health and food,
And all that in thy life is good,
Give thou thy heart in gratitude."

As we all know, Mr. Field was ever gentle
and tender to the little ones. If they were in
any way weak or afflicted, they appealed all the
more strongly to the love of which his heart was
so full. His nature was as simple as a child's,
and he loved the children's toys as much as
they did. His sympathetic enjoyment of their
pleasure in any new toy was a revelation to the
every-day man or woman. One day I went
with him into a toy-store to get some little
things for the babies, as he rarely went home
empty-handed. After he had purchased several
things, he ordered a dozen medium-sized bisque
dolls. I wondered what he was going to do
with so many, and put the question to him.
He answered, Oh, I like to have them, and
when little girls come to see me I can give
them a dolly to take home." Sometime after
his death, the family found the box that had
contained the dolls. There was only one left,
and that one in some way had been broken.
It was only a few weeks before his life ended
that he bought these dolls so he must have
had many visits from his little friends.
The following bit of ,correspondence is a
characteristic incident, and illustrates the gen-
tleness and childlike simplicity of his whole
nature, which was absolutely without affectation
or pretense of any sort:
Under date of October 14 a little Boston girl
wrote this letter to Mr. Field:


839





RECOLLECTIONS OF EUGENE FIELD.


DEAR MR. FIELD: I love you. I put your picture
jest fore Christmas, that my uncle Harry sent me, and
Gramma Field's, at the end of the poetry. I expect to
write books when I am older. Will you please read my
book, because I have read yours? Please excuse me for
writing short letter. Your loving
CHERRY ELIZABETH NICHOLS.

The reply was very prompt, for it was penned
October 17, and is as follows :

DEAR LITTLE LADY: I thank you very much for your
charming letter. It pleases me greatly to know that
away off in Massachusetts there is a little girl who reads
and likes what I write. Not so very long ago I was a
little boy in Massachusetts; maybe that is why I love
the Massachusetts people so very much, for indeed my
heart turns often and tenderly to them and to their dear
old hills and pleasant valleys. I have several boys of
my own now ; when they are older I shall send them
down to Massachusetts to see the girls there. If ever


you see a fine young fellow coming down your street and
crying at the top of his voice, Where, oh, where is the
charming Miss Cherry Nichols ? you must know he is
my boy. And you '11 be gracious to him, will you not ?
Well, I must stop now, for I must go out and shoot a
buffalo or two for supper. Be sure to call on me if ever
you come to this wild prairie town.
.Always affectionately your friend,
EUGENE FIELD.
All children who knew Mr. Field loved him
devotedly. One little boy, of whom he was espe-
cially fond, and who was of a shy and some-
what retiring nature, said in a pitiful way when
he was told of Mr. Field's death: "I had two
friends, now I have only one." Not only
the friends of his home-life, but thousands of
stranger-friends who knew Eugene Field solely
through his writings will hold his memory dear
and deplore his loss.


_-~-:: --.------"_ _'Tc-
4 2>. vbrftr'TT ominvIni in -
S..His h-al hadrnu brimn;
But: hei-w re-it wilth a very ouLd i..dre
"'Tis&Ia Sant tlIlnlu sec,1
el Mn I'm out about:'said he
'To feel 'fi:esurna-slinirninin' inyal':


1til George Brown- ..... ,
His ial had rn crrown; ....,
liked it 'Ait betlerus he saii:: :- : ,' .
hern t hTa.i Scomi.w in. d.'o.
ah? bi tf6uiIacrovwn,. ":-n
,lhedrlJltter;patter Un-' hr head -.








A NARROW ESCAPE.


BY ELSIE HILL.


NAN, Angeline, and Mary lay mournful in
a row;
Despair and grief were in their hearts, and
on their faces, woe;
For Saturday was moving day, and mother
dear had said,
As she kissed them all and hugged them
all and tucked them all in bed,

'That heap of broken dollies we '11 leave
upon the fl6or;
I 'm sure you '11 never miss them I '11
find you plenty more.
They 're old and torn and battered up -
not one of them 's complete -
I think I would n't take them to the house
on Pleasant street."

Nan, Angeline, and Mary went sadly off to
sleep,
In happy dreams they soon forgot that
melancholy heap;
But when at last in slumber sound their
tired mother lay,
She heard a voice, a gentle voice, that
sweetly seemed to say:


"Those children you 're so fond of-'t is odd
you cannot see,
They 're really very far from* what a per-
fect child should be!
There 's many a pretty child in town in
case you feel inclined
To chose some pretty new ones, and let these
stay behind.

"For Mary broke her arm, you know, and
Nan turns in her toes,
And Angeline has freckles on her funny
little nose;
They bump their heads and tear their frocks
-it 's hard to keep them neat,-
I think I would n't take them to the house
on Pleasant street!"

That loving little mother, oh! she started
up in fright,
She ran to all her babies, and she kissed and
hugged them tight!
She put her little bonnet on, and bought a
pot of glue,
And when they moved to Pleasant Street,
the dollies .ll went, too!


HIS IDEA.


By VIRNA SHEARD.


" WHAT are you going to be, dear Jack,
When you 're quite grown up ? I said.
" Will you be a lawyer, like papa,
Or a soldier, like Uncle Ned ? "

He shook his curly head and smiled;
Then answered, "I think it is queer
Papa chose to be a lawyer,
When he might be a pioneer."

"A pioneer, dear laddie ?" I cried;
"Why, how brave and bold you must be!
Voi. XXIII.-Io6. 841


But if you roam, you must come back home
Your poor little mother to see."

"Oh, I '11 not go far away," he cried;
"I can do it as well at home,-
I don't think when I 'm a pioneer
That I shall care to roam.

"I should think that a pioneer-" he said,
With calmly smiling eyes,
"That a pioneer would have to do
Something 'r other with pies."








A NARROW ESCAPE.


BY ELSIE HILL.


NAN, Angeline, and Mary lay mournful in
a row;
Despair and grief were in their hearts, and
on their faces, woe;
For Saturday was moving day, and mother
dear had said,
As she kissed them all and hugged them
all and tucked them all in bed,

'That heap of broken dollies we '11 leave
upon the fl6or;
I 'm sure you '11 never miss them I '11
find you plenty more.
They 're old and torn and battered up -
not one of them 's complete -
I think I would n't take them to the house
on Pleasant street."

Nan, Angeline, and Mary went sadly off to
sleep,
In happy dreams they soon forgot that
melancholy heap;
But when at last in slumber sound their
tired mother lay,
She heard a voice, a gentle voice, that
sweetly seemed to say:


"Those children you 're so fond of-'t is odd
you cannot see,
They 're really very far from* what a per-
fect child should be!
There 's many a pretty child in town in
case you feel inclined
To chose some pretty new ones, and let these
stay behind.

"For Mary broke her arm, you know, and
Nan turns in her toes,
And Angeline has freckles on her funny
little nose;
They bump their heads and tear their frocks
-it 's hard to keep them neat,-
I think I would n't take them to the house
on Pleasant street!"

That loving little mother, oh! she started
up in fright,
She ran to all her babies, and she kissed and
hugged them tight!
She put her little bonnet on, and bought a
pot of glue,
And when they moved to Pleasant Street,
the dollies .ll went, too!


HIS IDEA.


By VIRNA SHEARD.


" WHAT are you going to be, dear Jack,
When you 're quite grown up ? I said.
" Will you be a lawyer, like papa,
Or a soldier, like Uncle Ned ? "

He shook his curly head and smiled;
Then answered, "I think it is queer
Papa chose to be a lawyer,
When he might be a pioneer."

"A pioneer, dear laddie ?" I cried;
"Why, how brave and bold you must be!
Voi. XXIII.-Io6. 841


But if you roam, you must come back home
Your poor little mother to see."

"Oh, I '11 not go far away," he cried;
"I can do it as well at home,-
I don't think when I 'm a pioneer
That I shall care to roam.

"I should think that a pioneer-" he said,
With calmly smiling eyes,
"That a pioneer would have to do
Something 'r other with pies."











SINDBAD, SMITH & CO.

BY ALBERT STEARNS.


[Begun in the January number.]

CHAPTER XV.

AN ADDITION TO THE FIRM.

S1NDBAD and Tom quickly rose to their feet,
turned, and faced a man of decidedly unpleas-
ant appearance, who stood on the other side
of the fence against which the two partners
had been leaning during Sindbad's narrative.
He was a man
of about forty,
S. and a tramp
'/ beyond the
shadow of

*.
A 7_ **' *. /..


,i; 4,r r-


on the other- side of the fence. Beg pardon,
but that really was a great yarn. Now, honest,
are you the genuine Sindbad ? "
"I will not deny my identity," replied the
explorer, "but I am vexed that you have
learned it."
Oh, don't mind me," said the tramp,
lightly; "I have the soul of a gentleman,
and I shall respect your secret. Dear me! I
thought you were dead years ago."
"So most people imagine," replied Sindbad,
" and so I wish them to think. Come, Thomas,
we must be on our way."
"Please don't go yet," said the tramp, plead-
ingly. "I was a gentleman of position once,
ind-id I d6: so hke 10o talk to gentlemen. This
fine lad is your son, I
suppose ? "
No, he is a mem-
ber of the firm of Sind-
bad, Smith & Co.,
S explorers."
,.'" Indeed! Who is
i the 'Co.,' may I ask ?"
"We have not yet
found him."
"Well, well! Why,
S.- J this is very interesting.
.' But how does it hap-
.. pen that you are re-
duced to this?"
t'. "To what ?" asked
S indbad.
-: "Why, to tramp-


*. '/, \' JJJKIJ, -ing."
*..-. -I/1' "I am not tramp-
ing," replied the ex-
'SCARED YOU, DID NT 1I' SAID THE TRAMP. plorer, indignantly.
"Indeed!"
a doubt. But his face wore a good-natured And the tramp eyed Sindbad's trousers
smile as he said to the astonished Sindbad: skeptically and winked slyly at Tom.
"Scared you, did n't I ? I was lying down "You are looking at my trousers, I see. I






SINDBAD, SMITH & CO.


have my reasons for wearing them," said the
senior partner, stiffly.
And I have my reasons for wearing these,"
returned the stranger, gazing ruefully at his
tattered garments.
Doubtless you have," said Sindbad; "but
they are not identical with mine; in proof of
which permit me to request your acceptance
of this."
And he tossed a gold eagle to the evidently
astonished tramp.
"As liberal as in the old Bagdad days, I
see," said the wanderer. "Many thanks, sir.
Ah, how I used to enjoy reading your adven-
tures! They are among the very few things I
can remember."
You 're very kind, I 'm sure," said Sindbad.
"Do you have trouble with your memory ? "
I should say I did," replied the tramp. Why,
I can remember hardly anything -that 's why
'I am tramping. I can't attend to any sort of
business on account of that memory of mine -
or, rather, on account of its absence. I used to
be an expert bookkeeper, but I forgot the sig-
nificance of figures, and made the most absurd
mistakes. This seriously annoyed my employ-
ers, and the result was that I could n't hold a
position more than twenty-four hours. Why,
I 've even forgotten my name; I call myself
James P. Brown; but I 'm sure that 's nothing
like my real name."
Now this is very gratifying," said Sindbad
in an aside to Tom; "he has forgotten even
his own name, yet he remembers mine and
my adventures." Then he asked: "When and
how did you lose your memory, sir ? "
Why, I 've forgotten even that," replied
Mr. Brown; "but I think it was when I had
a bad cold some years ago. Still, I 'm not
sure but that somebody hypnotized me. Really,
I don't know how it happened."
"You seem a man of intelligence," said the
great explorer.
"Oh, I am!" the tramp hastened to assure
him. I know a great deal, and if I only
could remember it, you 'd find me a very enter-
taining companion--provided my sorrow did
not make me disinclined to converse; it might."
Eh ? Your what ? queried Sindbad.
My sorrow. Oh, I forgot to mention to


you that I have a deep sorrow, which is con-
stantly preying upon me, and will eventually
end my career."
"Dear! dear!" exclaimed Sindbad with an
expression of genuine concern. "Why, this is
very sad! I don't like to be obtrusive, but if
you don't mind telling what your sorrow is -"
"My dear Mr. Sindbad," interrupted Mr.
Brown, nothing would give me greater plea-
sure--melancholy pleasure, you understand-
than to confide all to you, but the truth of the
matter is I have completely forgotten what my
sorrow is. I 've had it for years, and I know
it's something very painful, but to save my life
I can't remember what it is, nor have I been
able to for I forget how many years."
But how is it possible," asked Sindbad, nat-
urally puzzled, "for you to be worrying your-
self into the grave over a sorrow which you
have forgotten all about ? "
"Why, don't you see ? cried the tramp,
"that's just the point ; it's the suspense that's
killing me. If I knew exactly what it is that
worries me I should n't worry nearly so much.
It is the dreadful uncertainty of the thing. Per-
haps I have killed some one, and am tortured
by remorse; or maybe I have lost an im-
mense fortune in rash speculation; or- or but
why theorize on the subject? The fact re-
mains that I have a rooted sorrow and that
I can't remember anything about it. Now,
I put it to you, is n't that enough to drive a
man half frantic? "
Yours is certainly a peculiar case," replied
Sindbad thoughtfully. "I don't think I have
ever heard of one exactly like it."
Oh, I 'm sure you never have," said Mr.
Brown. If l ever have I 've completely for-
gotten about it." And he sighed heavily.
It 's a case I should like to study," added
the explorer.
Really? cried Mr.. Brown, his worn face
lighting up.
Really," answered Sindbad.
"Then I '11 become the Co. of your firm,
and you shall have all the opportunity to study
me you wish. You can begin right now. I '11
go wherever you go. I '11 act as a sort of assis-
tant for you and your partner; you '11 find me
very handy if you '11 bear with my memory."


%896.]


843






SINDBAD, SMITH & CO.


"What do you say ? asked Sindbad, turning
to Tom.
"I 'm willing if you are," replied the junior
partner, who rather liked the tramp, notwith-
standing his rags and dirt.
"Then it's agreed," broke in Mr. Brown de-
lightedly. Well, if I do say it, 'Mr. Sindbad,
you might have made a worse choice for your
Co. than yours truly. My dear sir, you've fallen
into a rut of late years, and James P. Brown is
just the individual to pull you out of it. I think
the effort will keep me from brooding over my
sorrow. The dust of ages shall be brushed from
the tablet in the Temple of Fame upon which is
graven the name of Sindbad! Your future
achievements shall more than equal those of
your brilliant past; and all this will be due to
the indefatigable efforts of James P. Brown!"
Tom thought this a remarkable speech, and his
face glowed; but Sindbad said in an icy tone:
"My dear Mr. Brown, kindly remember that
you are not my business manager, but merely a
partner a silent partner, Mr. Brown. I have
not been in the exploring business all these
years for nothing; and if at any time I feel it
necessary to have refulgence shed upon my
name I am quite competent to attend to the
matter myself."
"Well, I must say-" began Mr. Brown;
but Sindbad cut him short with:
No, you must n't -not now. I 'm too
tired to hear you. We 'll get to Newhampton
as quickly as we can, and remain there over-
night. Before supper I '11 buy you a suit of ready-
made clothes. Then you can have a bath and a
shave. I suppose you have n't any money ? "
"I have the ten-dollar piece you gave me -
Why, good gracious! it 's gone! "
And the tramp began diving frantically into
all his pockets.
Never mind," said Sindbad impatiently,
"I '11 give you another-only come along."
The explorer started down the road at a rapid
pace, followed by his two partners.
"Is he always as snappish as this ? asked
Mr. Brown in a low tone.
"Well, he 's quick-tempered," replied Tom.
I should say he was. It 's the way with
great men, though. But, honestly, between our-
selves, do you think he really is Sindbad ? "


"Why, of course he is," said Tom, shocked
by the question; there can't be a doubt of it."
I don't know about that. How long have
you known him ?"
Only a couple of days," admitted the boy.
Well, then you have only his word for it.
When you come to think of it, it.does seem im-
probable that he is really the Sindbad."
Nothing seems improbable after what I 've
gone through during the past twenty-four
hours," said Tom.
Dear me! said Mr. Brown with wide-open
eyes, "you arouse my curiosity. Have you
really had any very startling adventures ?"
"Well, we 've seen some very queer things,"
replied Tom, guardedly.
Now don't be afraid to tell me all about it,"
said Mr. Brown. "I assure you I shall forget
it within a day or two."
Thus urged, Tom, who was really burning to
confide the story of his adventures to some one,
told Mr. Brown all that had befallen them.
His companion listened very attentively, and,
when he had finished, said:
."Well, it really does seem as if there might
be something in his claim, does n't it? But
you can't tell- you can't tell!"
And he shook his head dubiously.
Why, what more do you want ? cried Tom.
"As I 've consented to become a member
of the firm," replied Mr. Brown, I don't know
but I ought, in justice to myself, to demand
of this man some proof of his identity. You
see, for all I can tell I may have a distinguished
reputation to maintain. A man with a memory
like mine can't be too careful."
"I don't see what you have to lose," said
Tom rather sharply and with a scornful glance
at his companion's costume. Mr. Sindbad
has offered to buy you a new outfit."
"That 's so; I 'd forgotten that," said Mr.
Brown. "Well, I '11 take chances on my repu-
tation suffering, then. And so those old trou-
sers of his are enchanted, are they ? "
"Yes," replied Tom, rather sorry he had
told the new partner this.
And every time he puts his hand in his
pocket he draws out a gold eagle ? Well, well !
I 'd like to have a pair like them. Do you
suppose he could get me one ? "






SINDBAD, SMITH & CO.


Before Tom could reply, Sindbad, who was
now several yards in advance of his partners,
turned suddenly, saying: "That's a hotel just
ahead, I think. We '11 stop there."
Tom and Mr. Brown quickened their pace
until they reached the explorer, who continued,
addressing the new partner:
"You can get a shave, shampoo, and bath
there; while you are thus engaged I '11 go and
order you a complete ready-made outfit."


'HOW DARE YOU ? HISSED MR. BROWN. 'WHO ARE

They were certainly an odd-looking trio as
they wearily ascended the steps that led to the
hotel entrance; and it is no wonder that the
half-dozen men seated on the piazza grinned
broadly as they watched them.
When they had been shown to their rooms
the loungers went into the office and clustered
around the register, upon one of the pages
of which they read this entry:

GEORGE W. SINDBAD,
THOMAS SMITH, Explorers.
JAMES P. BROWN, .


CHAPTER XVI.
DISCORD.
THE barber and the tailor succeeded in ef-
fecting so remarkable a-change in the appear-
ance of Mr. James P. Brown that Tom was
positively startled; and even the blase Sindbad
said-- a little patronizingly:
"Really, I 'm surprised; I must admit that
you may do me credit after all, Brown."
Mr. Brown was evi-
dently offended, and
Tom did not blame
him; stroking his neat-
ly trimmed moustache

"Mr. Sindbad, I don't
like your tone."
"No?" said the ex-
plorer inquiringly with a
supercilious yawn.
"No. If I could only
remember who I am, you
might esteem it a high
honor to be associated
with me."
I might," said Sind-
baa, "but I don't think
I should. It 's a pity
you have such a short
memory."
And it 's a pity you
have such a long tongue,"
retorted Mr. Brown.
S "The fact is, you don't
You, ANYWAY?' know whom you 're talk-
ing to."
Can you enlighten me ? asked Sindbad in
a bitterly sarcastic tone.
No, I can't at present, but I shall as soon
as I get my memory back; and, for all you
know, I may prove to be a prince of the
realm."
"Prince of the realm!" giggled Sindbad.
"Oh, that 's good! that 's too good! I must
laugh. He! he! he! Prince of the realm!
What realm, I wonder "
How dare you ? hissed Mr. Brown. Who
are you, anyway ? If you 're really the person
you pretend to be, you 're nothing more than


845






SINDBAD, SMITH & CO.


the so-called hero of a lot of ridiculous tales of
exaggerated adventure. Anyhow, it 's never
been proved that such a man as Sindbad ever
existed."
It has n't, eh ?" howled the explorer, his
face crimson. Now, that shows all you know.
But I '11 waste no more time in words; there 's
another way to settle this matter."
"You mean by fighting? asked Mr. Brown.
"I do, sir."
"Well, you '11 have to dismiss the idea, for I
could n't possibly accept a challenge from you.
Why, for all I know I should be shooting at, or
crossing swords with a man immensely my in-
ferior in rank. Oh, I could n't entertain the
idea for a moment, sir "
Here Tom thought it advisable to interfere.
Mr. Sindbad Mr. Brown," he said, I
have an idea."
What is it? inquired his brother explorers
in unison.
It 's this: we ought to go down to dinner.
The gong sounded nearly five minutes ago."
The two men turned and faced him.
"Why did n't you tell us before?" asked
Sindbad.
"You did n't give me a chance. Shall we
go right down? "
Of course."
The three explorers descended to the dining-
room, a large, bare room on the first floor.
If rooms had--as Bulwer would put it-
"audible language," this one would have said:
"You may eat in me if you will-- I can't help
myself; but I wish you distinctly to understand
that I object to it."
Sindbad, Smith & Co., however, were too
hungry to care whether the room objected or
not, and they fell to with good appetites, un-
mindful of the curious glances of the regular
boarders."
We '11 spend the remainder of the afternoon
and the night here," said Sindbad as they rose
from the table; and to-morrow "
"Where shall we go then?" asked Tom
eagerly.
Wherever you like."
"I should like to go to New York, if you
don't object," said Tom; "but perhaps Mr.
Brown would prefer to go somewhere else."


"Any place that suits you and my esteemed
confrere, Mr. Sindbad, will suit me," smiled the
Co., whose aggressiveness seemed to have
melted and entirely disappeared under the ge-
nial influence of the dinner.
"Then New York it shall be," said Sindbad
in a much less austere manner than that which
he had worn before the meal. I am nothing
if not obliging."
In other words, you are a gentleman," said
Mr. Brown. "Whatever differences we may
have in opinion, I must acknowledge that. Your
hand, Mr. Sindbad."
"Since you put it in that way," returned the
great explorer, I cannot be unresponsive."
The two partners shook hands with every
appearance of cordiality, much to the relief of
Tom, who had feared that a permanent breach
had been made.
Mr. Brown was exceedingly cordial, and in-
sisted upon embracing both Tom and Sindbad,
much to the annoyance of the former.
"Well," said the head of the firm, as they
seated themselves upon the piazza, "then it is
decided that we start for New York to-morrow
morning."
"Nothing could please me better," said Mr.
Brown. New York is a great city, and I sup-
pose I have been there a good many times in
my happier days, before this awful sorrow began
weighing me down, and gnawing like a canker-
worm "
"You said that before," interrupted Sindbad
a little brusquely. Really, Brown, I 'don't
think you ought to brood so much over that
sorrow, especially as you can't even remember
what it is."
But how can I help brooding over it? "
cried the Co., excitedly. "If I could remem-
ber just what it is, I think that I should be able
to reconcile myself to it, for I have an iron will,
and believe that mind is superior to matter.
But I can't remember, and that is just what is
rushing me toward an untimely grave. Now,
my sorrow is something that occurred a great
many years ago; perhaps, if I could recall all
the particulars of the affair if it was an affair
- I should conclude, looking at it from a dis-
tance, that I had been fretting about a mere
nothing. But, as a conscientious man, I can-


846


[AUG.






SINDBAD, SMITH & CO.


not allow myself to entertain that theory for a
.moment. I may have been guilty of a crime
for which I ought to suffer remorse, and so I
suffer it--- oh, what remorse I do suffer "
And Mr. Brown's face assumed an expression
of anguish.
"But, see here," said Sindbad; a way has
occurred to me by which you may relieve your
mind a great deal, and perhaps prolong your
life."
"What is it ? asked Mr. Brown, seizing the
explorer's hand. "Let me know it at once."
"You say your memory is of no use to you
at all ? "
"Not of the slightest use. Really, it is base
flattery to call it a memory."
Then there are several courses open to you:
forget that you have forgotten your sorrow,
and may be it will come back to you, and you
will know the worst."
"I can't bear to do that," said Mr. Brown,
shuddering; it might be something awful."
"Well, then, forget that you ever had a sor-
row."
No," said the Co., firmly, "I cannot con-
scientiously do that. No, Sindbad, my dear sir,
I must bear my burden, whatever it is, uncom-
plainingly."
"Well, it does n't seem to me that you are
doing anything of the sort," returned Sindbad,
in a slightly raised voice. Since we first met
I 've heard of nothing but your sorrow- and
you don't know what it is, at that! Really,
this is ridiculous."
Tom saw that Mr. Brown was about to make
an angry reply; so, to nip another dispute in
the bud, he interrupted with:
"What train shall we take in the morning,
Mr. Sindbad ?"
"It's all the same to me," replied Sindbad,
sullenly.
"There 's a good train at nine o'clock," said
Mr. Brown.
We '11 take that if you like," said the oblig-
ing Sindbad; "any train at all, or no train at
all- it 's the same to me."
"If you mean by that remark, sir," began
Mr. Brown, to insinuate -"
"I don't mean to insinuate anything at all,"
interrupted Sindbad; that is not my way; but I


mean to state in language intelligible to the dull-
est comprehension "- and he gazed fixedly at
the Co.-"that you two have singular ideas of
the exploring business. Instead of suggesting
that we go and discover the North Pole, or the
South Pole, or plunge into darkest Africa, you
vote to go to New York; where, I suppose, you
expect to put up at a first-class hotel, and live
on the fat of the land at my expense. That 's
what you call excitement! Huh!"
Tom, much embarrassed, began to stammer
out something about going anywhere that Mr.
Sindbad suggested, and not caring particularly
about New York anyway; but Mr. Brown in-
terrupted him with a wave of the hand, and
said:
"Stop, my lad; leave this affair to me. We
must, sooner or later, come to an understand-
ing with this man Sindbad, and we may as well
do so now."
Oh, I understand you well enough," sneered
Sindbad; and if you don't understand me it
is n't my fault."
"Well, we don't--I don't, at any rate,"
said Mr. Brown. "You 're growling now like
a bear because we 've decided to go to New
York, and yet a few minutes ago you were
perfectly satisfied with the arrangement. What
is the matter with you, sir ?"
"I acquiesced to please you two amateurs;
not because I consider New York the center of
the universe."
"Neither do we," said Mr. Brown; "but
from this small town we 've got to go to
New York to get anywhere else."
Oh, no, we have n't," said Sindbad, shaking
his head with a scornfully mysterious air. No-
thing of the sort."
"Well, of course, you understand what I
mean," said Mr. Brown, biting his lips in evi-
dent vexation. New York is -" *
From this place," interrupted Sindbad, ig-
noring the Co.'s remark, "we can go in any
direction -North, South, East, West, up or
down."
Eh? Up or down? What do you mean
by that ? cried Mr. Brown, with eager interest.
But Sindbad only shrugged his shoulders and
smiled meaningly.
We could go up if we had a balloon," con-


1896.]






848 SINDBAD, SMITH & CO.
tinued the ex-tramp; "or down if we had a out for Balsora'- and so forth. I remember
shovel, and time and inclination to dig a deep thinking he, he, he that you ought to have
hole in the ground. But I don't see -" had a rubber stamp made with those words, to
"You don't see what I mean," interrupted save time."
Sindbad, "so let it pass." Sindbad's face was white with wrath as he
"I don'tbelieveyouknow what you meanyour- said :
self," muttered Mr. Brown in a tone so low that You remember that, do you ? Like most
Sindbad did not hear it, though Tom did. Then persons with defective memories, you can recall
he said aloud: Very well, sir, very well. Of all the disagreeable things you ever heard of.
course, Mr. Sindbad, you have your own reasons Try to remember, also, that at the time you
for your evidently strong prejudice against New speak of I was only an amateur explorer, and
York, but notwithstanding that it is a great sea- that the accounts you have read of my first
port, and most explorers ordinary, everyday seven voyages were painfully inaccurate."
explorers, not Sindbads--make it their starting Reading in Mr. Brown's face that he was
point. -Why, you always used to go to Balsora about to make a sarcastic reply, Tom hastened
when you started'-on a voyage. Every one of to say:
the stories of your Mr. Sindbad, if you don't mind I should
voyages begins: like very much to know what you meant by say-
'After several ing that we could start a voyage in any direc-
months spent tion -even up or down. You did n't mean,
,in the en- did you, as Mr. Brown thought, that we could
S joyment use a balloon ora shovel ?"
"ince you ask me so politely and respect-
fully," replied Sindbad with a patronizing smile,
I will tell you what I meant. Better still, I
will illustrate it. You see that flagstaff on
the green yonder ? I
will start on a journey
from its apex; if either
of you has the courage
A= "he may follow me."
Without waiting for a
reply, the great explorer
Sran over to the flagstaff
and began to ascend it
with the agility of a
S... boy. Brown and Tom
hastened after him.
"Poor old fellow,"
said Mr. Brown com-
passionately, "it is as I
feared "; and he tapped
his forehead significantly.
9- But the next moment
", he uttered an exclama-
tion of amazement. For,
after balancing himself
"SINDBAD STEPPED OFF AND-VANISHED."
a few seconds on one
of the riches I had acquired, my old longing for foot upon the top of the flagstaff, Sindbad
the sea became. so strong that I once more set stepped off and-- vanished.
(To be continued.)











A SAND-PILE.


BY HARRY M. LAY.


A SCENE FROM "THE BATTLE OF 'BAWLED HILL.'"
(The sand-pile was about eighteen inches high, the fence in the distance is of matches, and, approaching I
the foreground, of slightly larger bits of wood. The woods" are curled hair; the rider is two
inches high. Figures in the foreground are toys of the usual size.)


THE attractive display of ingeniously con-
trived toys which fill the shop-windows about
the holidays are interesting to every "grown
up," and altogether fascinating to children.
I doubt, however, if a whole shop-full of fine
toys contains so inexhaustible a resource for
amusement and imagination as a pile of clean
moist sand. My little son and I have con-
vinced ourselves of this, for we have had "no
end of fun in our sand-pile in the yard.
We built viaducts, tunnels, and forts, and let
our imaginations have free rein. We lived in
a delightful little world all our own. One day
we took.his little iron patrol-wagon and horses,
his brass cannon, and his company of lead
VOL. XXIII.-107.


soldiers out to the sand-pile. That suggested
at once a battle scene, and we began to lay
out a field of action.
Uncle Arthur used to tell us funny stories
about a great battle he was supposed to have
been in, once upon a time, and we decided to
illustrate his wonderful experiences in that fa-
mous battle of" Bawled Hill," with the "Army
of the Kankakee."
We heaped the sand into a pile about two
feet high to represent the "hill," and packed
it smooth so as to make it look a great way to
the top of it. To help this impression we built
a tiny rail-fence of matches along the brow
of the hill, and placed the little lead soldiers






A SAND-PILE.


about near the fence to represent the advance
guard of the enemy. Next we built a rail-fence
of larger sticks toward the front of the scene.
Here we placed the patrol-wagon and horses
with their little iron driver to look as if fleeing
to a place of greater safety, and the little brass
cannon overturned as though by a well-aimed
shot from the distant enemy. The hose-cart
horse did service as a dead artillery animal.


Here, then, was a fertile field for the play
of our imaginations. It promised amusement
and instruction for a long time to come, and we
were at once filled with a great desire to make
other pictures. Then we found we had no sol-
diers, or similar figures, of the proper sizes for
the foreground and middle distance, and to buy
them all would be altogether too expensive. So
we decided we could make better ones ourselves


-i- -t~~~
W-!!P~jeVZM .4
u


'-a4
S. i. .


'I-r


ANOTHER SCENE FROM "THE FAMOUS BATTLE OF 'BAWLED HILL.'
(A pile of sand about two feet high, fences made of matches and small sticks, iron toys, and little lead
soldiers. The house is a tooth-pick box.)


The rag brownie was made to represent Uncle
Arthur, and set astride a detached fire-engine
horse in full flight.
The effect was so amusing that I determined
to make a picture of it with my camera. When
the photograph was finished we were all aston-
ished and delighted with the result.
The little hill of sand looked as if it were a
quarter of a mile high.


of modeling-clay. In making these we found
another source of amusement and real instruc-
tion we had not expected; and we succeeded
so well with the clay that it was almost as much
pleasure to model the little clay figures as to set
them up in the scenes afterward.
Having decided upon the kind of figure
wanted for any particular part of a picture, we
first constructed a wire skeleton of fine, soft,


850


L_:
. W -22q: i.-








A SAND-PILE. 851


THE "ARMY OF THE KANKAKEE" IN FULL RETREAT.


stove-pipe wire, and bent the arms and legs into
the proper positions. That helped to give the
correct action, and held the clay together.
Very few tools were necessary. Our fingers
were the best tools we could find. In addition
to them we had only a thin bladed palette-knife,
a wooden knife, a soft pencil, a brush, and a cup


of water. The clay was very nice to handle, as
it did not stick to the fingers as common clay
does. While the clay figures we made were
not works of art, they had, at least, the neces-
sary appearance of life and action, and their
effect was very funny when placed in effective
positions. The smallest ones were always put


"OUR BRAVE SOLDIERS (MOSTLY GENERALS) WERE ALWAYS CONFRONTED BY A GREAT FORCE OF THE ENEMY."
(SEE PAGE 855.)


85I


A SAND-PILE.






A SAND-PILE.


farthest back, while the larger ones were put
nearer the front, according to their comparative
sizes. The effect of this was very lifelike, and
gave an impression of much greater distances.
When the little clay figures had dried hard
they were colored with water-color paints. It


posts are put nearer together as the narrow
end is reached, since they would really seem so.
There is nothing which is so deceptive in
effect as this fence, and if the other figures are
in exact proportion the illusion will be per-
fect. These sections are no longer than those


VIEW SHOWING THE."SKY," AND THE BUILDING OF A BATTLE-FIELD.


would have been better if we had used some
other color than blue, as that color always shows
white in a photograph.
Next we set to making fences, houses, and
barns. Post-and-rail fences were in sections
from six inches to a foot in length, and from
-two to three inches high, and were made of
pasteboard and wood. Particular care should
be taken about the sections of fence intended to
go near the roadway at the back part of the
scene and to give the impression of great dis-
tance. Each little stick is whittled narrower
toward one end, and the sticks representing the


in the foreground, and they are very easy to
make -just a little fish-glue will hold the pieces
together very well, and cigar boxes, berry boxes,
or even pieces of heavy pasteboard are always
easy to get. From the same materials we made
the houses and barns, afterward painting the
doors and windows upon them.
Now we found we must have something to
represent the sky--for who ever saw an outdoor
picture without a sky? This was perplexing, be-
cause the sheet to be used for that purpose
must not show the slightest wrinkle or anything
which would betray its real character.








iSgS.] A SAND-PILE.


THE COUNTRY CROSS-ROADS.
(The "mill" is the building on the extreme right.)


My wife hemmed some muslin eighteen feet
long, and a blacksmith furnished some curved
iron rods which we drew through the hems
and thus suspended the sheet, as can best be
seen in the picture on page 852.


To get the wrinkles out, the sheet was thor-
oughly wetted, and, as it dried, it stretched it-
self until every wrinkle disappeared.
Before placing in the sand the figures for a
picture we carefully smoothed out every little


PHOTOGRAPH SHOWING ACTUAL SIZE OF THE OBJECTS IN THE SAND-PILE SCENE "THE COUNTRY CROSS ROADS." (SEE PAGE 855.)


1896.]


A SAND-PILE.







A SAND-PILE.


I --


ANOTHER VIEW OF "THE COUNTRY CROSS-ROADS."
(Taken with the camera on a level with the horseman in the foreground.)


lump or imprint, and packed the surface down
until all detail was wiped out, because to look
far away nothing should seem distinct.
Then we were ready to construct our pictures.
We built up a hill, and, commencing at the
back, we placed some curled hair in loose
bunches to represent woods.
Next came the rail fences on the sides of
the road leading down the hill. Commencing
at the top we began laying it with matches, and,


as it drew nearer, larger sticks, followed by still
larger ones, were used until the fence reached the
foreground. The placing of the houses and
other buildings depends on their sizes.
When all these were in proper place we were
ready for the figures. To make it more inter-
esting we imagined that the enemy's cavalry
was just coming over the top of the hill in
pursuit of the routed "Army of the Kankakee"
uncle Arthur told about. The army" can be


THE ROUTED "ARMY OF THE KANKAKEE." (SEE PAGE 855.)
"The soldier riding backward down the hill is 'General Calamity' who has vowed never to turn
his back to the enemy."


854






A SAND-PILE.


seen tearing down the hill in a wild flight a
sort of a Bull Run panic. That soldier riding
backward down the hill is General Calamity,"
who has vowed never to turn his back to the
enemy. The iron patrol-wagon and some of
our fire-department toys fitted into such a scene
very well, as representing the artillery and bag-
gage wagons.
A correct idea of the effect of distance ob-
tained by making the fences run to a point to-
ward the background can be obtained in the
picture of the Country Cross-roads on page 853.


scene was obtained, for it seems to make every-
thing as big as life." The camera was taken
off its tripod, and placed flat upon the ground,
so that the lens was on a level with the man
and his pony. As every object was in proper
proportion the illusion is complete.
As we constructed these scenes of mimic
strife our imaginations were active. Our handful
of brave soldiers (mostly generals) were always
confronted by a great force of the enemy, but
held them at bay with the single brass cannon.
The fat little man in his shirt sleeves, in the


AN ATTEMPT TO RALLY THE "ARMY OF THE KANKAKEE."


A man could not place his foot lengthwise
between the fences down at the corner of the
road beyond the mill, although it appears to be
wide enough to let several wagons pass one
another there.
The other picture on the same page shows
the actual size of every object in the preceding
one. If a tall man who stood where the little
boy is sitting on the hassock should fall at full
length, his head would bump against the muslin
background which represents the sky.
Young photographers will doubtless wonder
how the effect in the next view of the same


picture on this page, astride a fiery horse, is
" General Stebby."
Uncle Arthur says that the man about to fire
the cannon is himself, as he always fired the
cannon in the Army of the Kankakee."
These pictures are but the beginning of what
promises to be a most fascinating play for
"grown ups," as well as little folks; and we
have already planned to build mountain scenes
with lakes and waterfalls, forests and rivers, and
deserts and farm-yards. We mean to be great
travelers, and see strange sights in this little
fairyland in our back yard.













POEMS BY A CHILD.


MARGARET FRANCES MAURO.*

THE LILY.

THE wild deer stood in the shady dell
And the sun came shimmering through
And the Lily nodded her snow-white bell
Wet with the morning dew.
" Oh, the sea is lovely!" the Zephyr said
As it blew o'er mountain and lea;
And the Lily nodded her snow-white head
And longed to live in the sea.

The wild deer slept in the shady dell
And the moon came shimmering through
And the Lily lifted her snow-white bell
And drank the evening dew.
"Oh, the sea is lovely!" the Zephyr cried
As it rustled the leafy tree,
And the Lily nodded her head, and sighec
And longed to live in the sea.
See page 876.


The wild deer fled from the cloudy dell
And the rain came pouring through,
And the Lily nodded her snow-white bell
Whenever the Zephyr blew.
"Oh, the sea is stormy!" the Zephyr sighed,
As it blew o'er mountain and lea,
And the Lily plunged in the river's tide
And floated down to the sea.

SONNET.
TO A PURPLE PANSY.

0 LOVELY flower, loveliest of thy kind,
Fair as the purple cloud that sunset decks,
A beauteous blossom of thy gentle sex,
A bit of fragrance, budding on the wind,
A storehouse for the honey-gathering bee;
Now coyly smiling with coquettish grace,
Now with a lovely look upon thy face,
An upward glance of grave, sweet purity;
A drop of purple dew that gleams, then fades,
Sets upon Earth's green breast another gem,
Then, lifeless, hangs upon its withered stem,
Drops-and the grassy woodland dells and
glades
Know it no more-forget it did exist-
But in my heart, 0 flow'r, thou art forever
,h missed.


THE AUTUMN DAISY.

O RUDDY Daisy!
O flower brave and bold!
The autumn skies are hazy
With clouds of smoking gold.
The bush that flamed with yellow haws
Is bare and leafless now,
The frost its hoary mantle draws
Across each frozen bough.

O ruddy flower!
O Daisy, bold and bright!
Come to cheer this dreary hour
With thy little light!


Ih,






POEMS BY A CHILD.


When all the days are short and damp,
The nights are long and cold,
God bless thee for thy cheerful lamp,
O Daisy brave and bold!
THE MONSTER "PRACTISING."
WHEREVER I may go,
Whatever I may do,
That dreadful monster, Practising,"
Looms up before my view,
And in a voice I must obey
He calls me from my pleasant play.
Each day, at half-past three,
When I come home from school,
In sternest voice he summons me
Straight to the piano-stool;
There while my chords and scales I try,
I count the moments passing by.
If I am out of sorts
And crossly strike a key
With discord most unbearable
He then does punish me.
He '11 worry me with all his might
Until my exercise goes right.
They tell me that in time
More beautiful he '11 grow;
There '11 be a smile upon that face
That now does scare me so;
His ugliness will flee, and I
Will grow to love him -by and by.
And so perhaps, if I
Am good and persevere,
And do my lessons right and try
Not to offend his ear,
Old Practising" will grow to me
As pleasant as they say he 'll be.
TO A SPARROW.
(Composed while on a sick-bed, and watching the sparrow
through the window.)
THE skies of winter lower a frowning brow
O'er the still earth, in snowy silence drest;
Yet happy and contented still art thou,
O little Sparrow, flutt'ring from thy nest
To pluck the withered haws that even now
Deck the bare bush's dry and leafless bough.
And when I hear the sweet melodious flow
That fills with thankful song thy little breast
For the scant meal thou findest in the snow,
I think how many mortals doubly blest
Receive their blessings, yet no thanks bestow.
VOL. XXIII.- io8.


THE SHADOW SONG.
O dainty little Shadow,
O coy, delusive Shadow!
O fickle phantom of the lightsome air!
One moment swift careering
Across the sunny meadow,
Then, flitting, disappearing-
Who knows where?
Toward thee bend the grasses,
The tall, tall meadow grasses,
As if to hold thy flitting figure still;
Now o'er them ling'ring, brooding,
Thou temptest their caresses,
Then dartest off, eluding,-
Mocking still.
O, merry, merry Shadow,
O, little elfin Shadow!
Dance gaily with thy playmate zephyr now,
For oh! the sparkling river,
The sunshine on the meadow,
They will not last forever,-
Nor wilt thou !

BONNIE LASSIE.
OH, bonnie bonnie lassie,
Whither, whither do ye go?
The trees are bare an' leafless,
The fields are white wi' snow.
The meadow 's bleak an' barren
That waved wi' rustlin' grass,
An' whither are ye goin'
My bonnie, bonnie lass?
"I 'm hurryin' thro' the meadow,
I 'm hurryin' thro' the lane
To meet my bonnie Jamie,
My dearest an' my ain.
What care I tho' the snow lies cauld,
Tho' winds blaw bleak an' drear,
I 'm hurryin' over moor an' field
To meet my Jamie dear."
Then bonnie, bonnie lassie,
Oh, speed ye on your way,
I 'm dreamin' o' the selfsame lad
That you shall meet to-day.
I 'm dreamin' o' my Jamie,
Who said he would be true,
An' lo'ed me vera dearly
Before he met wi' you.


857













THE STORY OF MARCO POLO.


BY NOAH BROOKS.


[Begun in the June number.]

CHAPTER V.

THE CONJURERS OF CASHMERE.

BADASHAN, of which our traveler wrote an
interesting account, is now known as Badak-
shan; it lies to the north of that range of moun-
tains which bears the name of the Hindu Kush,
in Central Asia, south of Bokhara and north of
Afghanistan. Marco's eyes are now turned
eastward, and he writes thus of the country of
which the world outside then knew nothing:

OF THE PROVINCE OF BADASHAN.

BADASHAN is a Province inhabited by people who
worship Mahommet, and have a peculiar language. It
forms a very great kingdom, and the royalty is heredi-
tary. All those of the royal blood are descended from
King Alexander and the daughter of King Darius, who
was Lord of the vast Empire of Persia. And all these
kings call themselves in the Saracen tongue Zulcarniain,
which is as much as to say "Alexander"; and this out
of regard for Alexander the Great.
It is in this province that those fine and valuable gems,
the Balas Rubies, are found. They are got in certain
rocks among the mountains, and in the search for them
the people dig great caves underground, just as is done
by miners for silver. There is but one special mountain
that produces them, and it is called Syghinan. The
stones are dug on the king's account, and no one else
dares dig in that mountain on pain of forfeiture of life as
well as goods; nor may any one carry the stones out of
the kingdom. But the king amasses them all, and sends
them to other kings when he has tribute to render, or
when he desires to offer a friendly present; and such
only as he pleases he causes to be sold. Thus he acts in
order to keep the Balas at a high value; for if he were
to allow everybody to dig, they would extract so many
that the world would be glutted with them, and they
would cease to bear any value. -Hence it is that he al-
lows so few to be taken out, and is so strict in the
matter.
There is also in the same country another mountain,
in which azure is found; 't is the finest in the world,
and is got in a vein like silver. There are also other
mountains which contain a great amount of silver ore, so
that the country is a very rich one; but it is also (it must


be said) a very cold one. It produces numbers of ex-
cellent horses, remarkable for their speed. They are not
shod at all, although constantly used in mountainous
country, and on very bad roads. They go at a great
pace even down steep descents, where other horses nei-
ther would nor could do the like. And Messer Marco
was told that not long ago they possessed in that prov-
ince a breed of horses descended from Alexander's horse
Bucephalus, all of which had from their birth a particular
mark on the forehead. This breed was entirely in the
hands of an uncle of the king's; and in consequence of
his refusing to let the king have any of them, the latter
put him to death. The widow thenin despite, destroyed
the whole breed, and it is now extinct.
In the mountains there are vast numbers of sheep-
400, 500, or 600 in a single flock, and all of them wild;
and though many of them are taken, they never seem to
get aught the scarcer.
Those mountains are so lofty that 't is a hard day's
work, from morning till evening, to get to the top of
them. On getting up, you find an extensive plain, with
great abundance of grass and trees, and copious springs
of pure water running down through rocks and ravines.
In those brooks are found trout and many other fish
of dainty kinds; and the air in those regions is so pure,
and residence there so healthful, that when the men who
dwell below in the towns, and in the valleys and plains,
find themselves attacked by any kind of fever or other
ailment that may hap, they lose no time in going to the
hills; and after abiding there two or three days, they
quite recover their health through the excellence of that
air. And Messer Marco said he had proved this by ex-
perience: for when in those parts he had been ill for
about a year, but as soon as he was advised to visit that
mountain, he did so and got well at once.
In this kingdom there are many strait and perilous
passes, so difficult to force that the people have no fear
of invasion. Their towns and villages also are on lofty
hills, and in very strong positions. They are excellent
archers, and much given to the chase; indeed, most of
them are dependent for clothing on the skins of beasts,
for stuffs are very dear among them. The great ladies,
however, are arrayed in stuffs, and I will tell you the
style of their dress. They all wear trousers made of
cotton cloth, and into the making of these some will put
60, 8o, or even ioo ells of stuff.

OF THE PROVINCE OF PASHAI.
You must know that ten days' journey to the south
of Badashan there is a Province called PASHAI, the.peo-






THE STORY OF MARCO POLO.


pie of which have a peculiar language, and are Idolaters,
of a brown complexion. They are great adepts in sor-
ceries and the diabolic arts. The men wear earrings
and brooches of gold and silver set with stones and
pearls. They are a pestilent people and a crafty; and
they live upon flesh and rice. Their country is very
hot.
'Now let us proceed and speak of another country
which is seven days' journey from this one towards the
south-east, and the name of which is KESHIMUR.

The Badakshan country is still famed for its
rubies, although the quality of the gems is not
so high as in earlier times; and the working
of the ruby mines is still a monopoly in the
hands of the government. By azure Marco
means lapis-lazuli, a semi-precious stone of a
beautiful blue color, greatly esteemed by gem
workers. As for the horses that were claimed to
have descended from the famous Bucephalus
of Alexander the Great, we may say that many
oriental people are famous braggarts; and,
although the horses of Badakshan are still so
beautiful and strong that Afghan robbers con-
tinually raid the country to steal them, it is
unlikely that any progeny of Bucephalus were to
be found in any quarter of the world.
Keshimur, of which our traveler next speaks,
is readily understood to be Cashmere, lying just
south of the Hindu Kush, and famous for its
shawls, attar of roses, and other products. Here
is Marco's very brief account of that province:

OF THE PROVINCE OF KESHIMUR.
Keshimur also is a Province inhabitated by a people
who are Idolaters and have a language of their own.
They have an astonishing acquaintance with the develries
of enchantment; insomuch that they make their idols to
speak. They can also by their sorceries bring on changes
of weather and produce darkness, and do a number of
things so extraordinary that no one without seeing them
would believe them. Indeed, this country is the very
original source from which Idolatry has spread abroad.
In this direction you can proceed further till you come
to the Sea of India.
The men are brown and lean, but the women, taking
them as brunettes, are very beautiful. The food of the
people is flesh, and milk, and rice. The clime is finely
tempered, being neither very hot nor very cold.
There are in this country Eremites (after the fashion
of those parts), who dwell in seclusion and practise great
abstinence in eating and drinking. They keep from all
sins forbidden in their law, so that they are regarded by
their own folk as holy persons. Theylive to a great age.
There are also a number of idolatrous abbeys and
monasteries. The people of the province do not kill


animals nor spill blood; so if they want to eat meat.they
get the Saracens who dwell among them to play the
butcher. The coral which is carried from our parts of
the world has a better sale there than in any other
country.
Now we will quit this country, and not go any further
in the same direction; for if we did so we should enter
India; and that I do.not wish to do at present. For, on
our return journey, I mean to tell you about India: all
in regular order. Let us go back therefore to Badashan,
for we cannot otherwise proceed on our journey.

The conjurers of Cashmere seem to have
made a great impression on Marco, who had
seen them before at the court of Kublai Khan.
They had, and still have, a wide reputation for
their skill. Like many other so-called magi-
cians, they have the power to deceive on-
lookers to so great an extent that men have
soberly reported that they saw iron float in the
water, rocks rise in the air without being touched
by any one, and clouds come and go and mists
fall, all at the bidding of the magician. It is,
of course, all mere jugglery.
Marco's statement that Buddhism, or "Idol-
atry," as he styles it, spread from Cashmere,
must be taken with some allowance; for, al-
though that faith did spread thence into Tibet
and other lands where it holds great power, it
first went into Cashmere from India. One of
the first of the Ten Obligations, or command-
ments, of Buddhism is to refrain from taking
life; and the pious -Eremites (or hermits) and
Buddhists whom Marco saw, while they did not
hesitate to eat meat, would not kill with their
own hands the animal that was to be eaten.
That is still the custom of the country; the
good Buddhist will not cause death if he can
possibly avoid it.

CHAPTER VI.

THE ROOF OF THE WORLD.

WE have heard much, of late years, about
the Pamir country; and we shall hear more
about it as time goes on: for the Pamir steppe,
as it is sometimes called, lies in the heart of
Central Asia, northeast of Afghanistan, south
of Asiatic Russia, and west of Turkestan.
Therefore it borders on the empires of Russia,
China, and British India; on its lofty plains
may be fought more than one battle for suprem-


859






THE STORY OF MARCO POLO.


acy. It is a series of plateaus, 15,000 feet above
the level of the sea; and some of its loftiest
mountain peaks are 25,000 feet above sea level.
The first account of this wonderful region was
written by Marco Polo, and is as follows:

In leaving Badashan you ride twelve days between
east and northeast, ascending a river that runs through
land belonging to a brother of the Prince of Badashan,
and containing a good many towns and villages and
scattered habitations. The people are Mahommetans,
and valiant in war. At the end of those twelve days
you come to a province of no great size, extending in-
deed no more than three days' journey in any direction,
and this is called VOKHAN. The people worship Ma-
hommet, and they have a peculiar language. They are
gallant soldiers, and they have a chief whom they call
NONE, which is as much as to say Count, and they are
liegemen to the Prince of Badashan.
There are numbers of wild beasts of all- sorts in this
region. And when you leave this little country, and
ride three days northeast, always among mountains, you
get to stch a height that 't is said to be the highest place
in the world! And when you have got to this height
you find a great lake between two mountains, and out
of it a fine river running through a plain clothed with
the finest pasture in the world; insomuch that a lean
beast there will fatten to your heart's content in ten days.
There are great- numbers of all kinds of wild beasts;
among others, wild sheep of great size, whose horns are
a good six palms in length. From these horns the shep-
herds make great bowls to eat from, and they use the
horns also to enclose folds for their cattle at night.
Messer Marco was told also that the wolves were numer-
ous, and killed many of those wild sheep. Hence quan-
tities of their horns and bones were found, and these









HEAD AND HORNS OF OVIS POLL
were made into great heaps by the wayside, in order to
guide travellers when snow was on the ground.
The Plain is called PAMIER, and you ride across it for
twelve days together, finding nothing but a desert with-
out habitations or any green thing, so that travellers are
obliged to carry with them whatever they have need of.
The region is so lofty and cold that you do not even see
any birds flying. And I must notice also that because
of this great cold, fire does not burn so brightly, nor give
out so much heat as usual, nor does it cook food so effec-
tually.
Now, if we go on with our journey toward the east-


north-east, we travel a good forty days, continually pas-
sing over mountains and hills,.or through valleys, and
crossing many rivers and tracts of wilderness. And in -
all this way you find neither habitation of man, nor any
green, thing, but must carry with you whatever you re-
quire. The country is called BOLOR. The people dwell
high up in the mountains, and are savage Idolaters, liv-
ing only by the chase, and clothing themselves in the
skins of beasts. They are in truth an evil race.
This is an interesting chapter of Marco's
book, because it describes a region of which the
outside world knew nothing from his time until
1838, when another European traveler, Captain
John Wood, passed over it, and verified the ac-
count written by Marco Polo, more than six
hundred years before. The Tartars call the lofti-
est part of the Pamir country the Bam-i-Dun-
iah, or Roof of the World "; it is the highest
level region to be found anywhere on the globe.
It is swept by cold winds, and even in summer
the dry snow is driven across its surface.
The great sheep of which Marco speaks are
still to be found there, and they have been named
the Ovis Poli, in honor of Marco Polo, who
first described them. A pair of sheep horns
brought home by Captain Wood measured three
feet from tip to tip, and each horn was four
feet and eight inches in length, following the
curve of the horn. The animals are hunted by
the Kirghiz who inhabit the lower steppes of
that country; and Wood's narrative says: "We
saw numbers of horns strewed about in every
direction, the spoils of the Kirghiz hunter.
Some of these were of an astonishingly large
size, and belonged to an animal between a goat
and a sheep, inhabiting the steppes of Pamir.
The ends of the horns projecting above the
snow often indicated the direction of the road,"
which is precisely what Marco has told us.
Captain Wood crossed the Pamir in February,
and he says whenever they came in sight of a
large number of these big horns arranged in a
semi-circle, they knew that there had been a
summer encampment of the Kirghiz hunters.
What Marco says of the difficulty of cooking
by a fire at a great height, is entirely correct.
Water boils at a lower temperature on the top
of a high mountain than it does in the plain at
its foot. The usual boiling-point is at 212 de-
grees, as every bright youngster knows; but on
the tops of high mountains water boils at 179


860







THE STORY OF MARCO POLO.


or 180, and men unused to so curious a phenom-
enon are puzzled to see the water boiling, and
the food remaining uncooked. The pressure of
the atmosphere is less on the mountain-top than
it is on the plain, and the heat of the fire causes
the boiling of the water more readily at the
greater altitude. Water boils at the top of
Mount Blanc at a temperature of 185 degrees.

MARCO TELLS A WONDERFUL STORY.

SAMARCAND lies in the southern part of Tur-
kestan, just north of Bokhara, and, therefore, it
was behind Marco Polo when he had passed
the Pamir steppes; evidently, he did not visit
Samarcand, and could not give us any informa-
tion about the city; so he tells us this story:

Samarcan is a great and noble city towards the north-
west, inhabited by both Christians and Saracens, who
are subject to the great Kaan's nephew, CAIDOU by
name; he is, however, at bitter enmity with the Kaan.
I will tell you of a great marvel that happened at this
city.
It is not a great while ago that Sigatay, own brother
to the Great Kaan, who was lord of this country and of
many an one besides, became a Christian. The Chris-
tians rejoiced greatly at this, and they built a great church
in the city, in honor of John the Baptist; and by his
name the church was called. And they took a very fine
stone which belonged tb the Saracens, and placed it as
the pedestal of a column in the middle of the church,
supporting the roof. It came to pass, however, that
Sigatay died. Now the Saracens were full of rancor
about that stone that had been theirs, and which had
been set up in the church of the Christians; and when
they saw that the Prince was dead, they said one to an-
other that now was the time to get back their stone, by
fair means or by foul. And that they might well do, for
they were ten times as many as the Christians. So they
gat together and went to the church and said that the
stone they must and would have. The Christians ac-
knowleged that it was theirs indeed, but offered to pay a
large sum of money and so be quit. Howbeit, the
others replied that they never would give up the stone
for anything in the world. And words ran so high that
the Prince heard thereof, and ordered the Christians
either to arrange to satisfy the Saracens, if it might be,
with money, or to give up the stone. And he allowed
them three days to do either the one thing or the other.
The Saracens would on no account agree to leave the
stone where it was, and this out of pure despite to the
Christians, for they knew well enough that if the stone
were stirred the church would come down by the run.
So the Christians were in great trouble and wist not what
to do. But they did do the best thing possible; they be-
sought Jesus Christ that he would consider their case, so


that the holy church should not come to destruction, nor
the name of its Patron Saint, John the Baptist, be tar-
nished by its ruin. And so when the day fixed by the
Prince came round, they went to the church betimes in
the morning, and lo, they found the stone removed from
under the column; the foot of the column was without
support, and yet it bore the load as stoutly as before!




























Between the foot of the column and the ground there was
a space of three palms. So the Saracens had away their
stone, and mighty little joy withal. It was a glorious
miracle, nay, it is so, for the column still so standeth,
and will stand as long as God pleaseth.

It was not often that Marco was at a loss for
real information concerning the places of which
he makes mention. But in this case he was like
some of the geographers of whom the wise Plu-
tarch speaks when he says that they crowd into
the edges of their maps parts of the world that
they know nothing about and add notes in the
margin to "the effect that beyond this lies no-
thing but sandy deserts full of wild beasts and
unapproachable bogs." This remark moved
Dean Swift, the author of Gulliver's Travels,"
to say:
So geographers, in Afric maps,
With savage pictures fill their gaps,
And o'er unhabitable downs
Place elephants for want of towns.


(To be continued.)






















THE Bunnies are
a feeble folk
Whose weakness
is their
strength.
STo shun a gun
.a Bun will
run
To almost any
length.

Now once, when
war alarms

In the ancestral wood
Where the kingdom of the Bunnies
For centuries had stood,
The king, for fear long peace had made
His subjects over-bold,
To wake the glorious spirit
Of timidity of old,


S BY ouveR HelRFORD


Announced one day he would bestow
Princess Bunita's hand
On the Bunny who should prove himself
Most timid in the land.

Next day a proclamation
Was posted in the wood
"To the Flower of Timidity,
The Pick of Bunnyhood:
His Majesty, the Bunny king,
Commands you to appear
At a tournament -at such a date
In such and such a year -
Where his Majesty will then bestow
Princess Bunita's hand
On the Bunny who will prove himself
Most timid in the land."

Then every timid Bunny's heart
Swelled with exultant fright
At the thought of doughty deeds of fear
And prodigies of
Slight.
For the motto of
the Bunnies,
As perhaps you
Share aware,
J Is Only the faint-
hearted
I Are deserving
Sof the fair."


X _--






A BUNNY ROMANCE.


They fell at once to practising,
These Bunnies, one and all,
Till some could almost die of fright
To hear a petal fall.
And one enterprising Bunny
Got up a special class
To teach the art of fainting
At your shadow on the grass.


At" length at length at length
The moment is at hand!
And trembling all from head to foot
A hundred Bunnies stand.
And a hundred Bunny mothers
With anxiety turn gray
Lest their offspring dear should lose their fear
And linger in the fray.


Never before in Bunny lore
Was such a stirring sight
As when the bugle sounded
To begin the glorious flight!
A hundred Bunnies, like a flash,
All disappeared from sight
Like arrows from a hundred bows-
None swerved to left or right.
Some north, some south, some east, some
west,-
And none of them, 't is plain
Till he has gone around the earth
Will e'er be seen again.



^ / -


It may be in a hundred weeks,
Perchance a hundred years.
Whenever it may be, 't is plain
The one who first appears
Is the one who ran the fastest;
He wins the Princess' hand,
And gains the glorious title of
"Most Timid in the Land."


O~7~











THE TRICKS OF TORPEDO-BOATS.

By ERNEST INGERSOLL.


THE most remarkable thing in the whole mil-
itary history of the world, perhaps, is the change
that has taken place in the last thirty-five
years in the navies of the nations, and in their
methods of sea-fighting. No single feature of
this change is more striking than the invention
of self-acting torpedoes, and the structure and
tactics of the small, nimble vessels intended to
use them.
Torpedo-boats, however, are designed for a
wider service than simply to carry and discharge
the frightful weapon from which they take their
name. They are to the navy what scouts and
skirmishers are to a land army. They form the
cavalry of the sea, of which the cruisers are the
infantry, and the battleships and monitors the ar-
tillery arm. They must spy out the position of
the enemy's fleet, hover about his flanks or haunt
his anchorage to ascertain what he is about and
what he means to do next. They must act as
the pickets of their own fleet, patrolling the
neighborhood, or waiting and watching, con-
cealed among islands or in inlets and river-
mouths, ready to hasten away:to the admiral
with warning of any movement of the enemy.
It is not their business to fight (except rarely,
in the one particular way), but rather to piy and
sneak and 'run. Hence they are as small and
sleek and swift as they can be made. When
the fleet goes upon a cruise, they are carried on
the decks of the big war-ships, although they
are able to get about in really rough weather
by themselves. A very recent idea is to build
them out of aluminium, which would not only
be of great advantage toward ease of trans-
portation, but would tend toward increased
speed, by adding buoyancy and elasticity to the
structure, which seems to skim along the surface
and fairly leap from wave to wave; but it is
doubtful whether aluminium is strong enough
for safety and whether it will not be injured by
the chemical action of the sea-water.


Our first modem torpedo-boat, -the Stiletto "
(now used only for experiments), was a small
one, that looked like a racing-shell built up into
a miniature steamship. She has room for only
one officer and ten mien, who stow themselves
into bunks that let down like sleeping-car berths
wherever a little space is left around the ma-
chinery. Those built more recently, and for
practical service, are somewhat larger and able
to carry from thirty to forty persons, all told.
I saw one the other day preparing for her
trial-trip. She was painted white, with every-
thing above the deck shining brass or leaf-gold.
Even her smoke-stacks were gilded and that
would not be done if they were very large!
She looked like an exquisite toy, and could be
seen glittering on the blue plain of the ocean as
far as one could see anything.
For actual service such a nautical gem as this
would not do at all. The torpedo-boat captain
must remember the maxim that Death loves a
shining mark," and paint his craft a tint which
will match with the color of the darkness over
the sea at night, for it is-then that its work is
mostly done. Experiments have shown that a
muddy olive-green shade matches best with the
murk," as sailors call it, and thus comes near-
est to being invisible. So the white and gold
of the Ericsson" will soon be overlaid by a
uniform coat of dull green.
The next requisite is speed. The shape is long,
narrow, and sharp. There is almost nothing ex-
cept a pair of short, flattened smoke-stacks, one
behind the other, to catch the wind or show
above deck; and the steersman stands, with only
his head and shoulders visible, in a little box
with windows that serves the purpose of a wheel-
house. A mere wire railing saves the crew
from sliding off the deck, and in action every-
body stays below. No weight is carried that
can be avoided, and the engines, taking steam
from two boilers, are as powerful as can be
64






THE TRICKS OF TORPEDO-BOATS.


packed into the space at command. Usually only
coal enough for a few hours' steaming is car-
ried, and every bushel of it is carefully selected
as to quality, and is so treated and intelligently
fed to the furnaces as to make the hottest possi-
ble fire, although never a spark escapes out of the
smokestacks to betray the vessel in the darkness.
Owing to their form, their power, and through
skilful management a speed can be secured
from these small craft that few of the larger ships
can equal, while they can turn and dodge in a
course no big boat could follow.
But to insure all these fine results, both officers


..-r
a'.,


ficers and men after another is instructed in
handling her, and in the making and firing of
her torpedos; and they have plenty of fun along
with the schooling.
The headquarters of this work is Goat Island,
which separates Newport harbor from the outer
waters of Narragansett Bay.
There is a searchlight which commands the
harbor entrances and a wide circle of the bay.
One or more warships are always there, whose
searchlights also can be swung in any direc-
tion. Yet the Cushing arrived one night and
first announced herself by suddenly blowing her


Maw
t.1B$ ~ )


A TORPEDO-BOAT AT FULL SPEED.


and men must be taught how to manage and
manceuver them to best advantage, as well as
how to discharge the torpedos they carry.,
Constant drilling is necessary; and lately one
of these boats in our navy, the Cushing (so
suitably named after the young hero of the
Civil War who destroyed the rebel ram "Al-
bemarle "* by means of a rude torpedo-boat -
one of the first actually used), has been attached
to the naval station at Newport, Rhode Island, in
order to carry on this practice. One set of of-


whistle within pistol-shot of the inner wharf
of the island- and it was not a dark night
Either. A few afternoons later she went down
-the bay, and challenged every eye to be alert
to see her return in the evening. It was bright
moonlight a time in which no such boat
would attempt a serious attack -yet Lieuten-
ant Fletcher, the Cushing's commander, crept
within a third of a mile of the shore before
he was detected. It would have pleased you
to see her that night, as she came plainly into


* See ST. NICHOLAS for October, 1895.


VOL. XXIII.- io9.


865


*1 --






THE TRICKS OF TORPEDO-BOATS.


view a long, low streak gliding silently and
swiftly athwart the moonlit sea, rolling a sil-
very furrow back from her plow-like bow, and
seeming more like some great fish with its
back fins out of water than any sort of steamship.
But it is on dark and stormy nights that the
practice becomes exciting. Groups of officers
stand upon the rampart of Fort Wolcott, or
upon the bridge of each monitor or cruiser, and
strain eyes and ears to obtain some inkling of
the torpedo-boat's presence, the long white
beam of the electric searchlight sweeping right


IN THE TURRET OF A TORPEDO-BOAT.
and left and up and down, and every man gaz-
ing along the path it illuminates for some
glimpse of the little enemy. A swing of the
beam southward brings out the grim walls and
numerous cannon of Fort Adams, and shows
every yacht and fishing-boat at anchor inside
of Brenton's Point. The main channel, the
SDumplings, the far away shore of Conanicut
Island, Rose Island and its ruined old fortifica-
tions, the upper bay dotted with lazy sloops and
schooners slipping down with the tide, are re-


vealed one after another, as the powerful rays
are turned slowly westward and northward un-
til at last they are shining again on the Naval
War College and Training School, and on the
clustered shipping and wharves of the pictu-
resque old town.
It would seem as if nothing in the bay could
hide itself from this all-searching glare; yet one
night Lieutenant Fletcher let them see him go
out, and was followed by the electric light as
he steamed straight away down its brilliant
avenue. Suddenly the torpedo-boat disap-
peared. An instant before it had been in the
full path of the light, and everybody could see
it plainly; then it vanished as if it had sunk in
the twinkling of an eye.
What had become of it? Of course it had
not sunk. It had only swerved aside into the
darkness. When would it reappear ? and
where? The officers of the Torpedo Station
on shore were ready to signal intelligence to
the "Miantonomoh," anchored in the offing, the
instant they obtained any clue. The monitor's
officers, crowded on her bridge, were groping
everywhere among the seaward shadows with
the long white pointer of their searchlight, and
the men on deck were at the quick-firing ma-
chine-guns ready (in pretense) to blow the dan-
gerous little pest out of water the instant it
could be found.
One quarter of an hour followed another.
The silent, eager groups were constantly whis-
pering: I see him! Where ? Over
there by the Dumplings." But no; the electric
searcher brings nothing into view except rocks
and tossing water.
"There!" No; that is only a smudge in
the atmosphere out by Rose Island.
"I can hear him! exclaims another.
"Yes, so can I," says a companion, pointing
southerly.
You 're wrong is the comment of an older
officer; why, the Cushing's machinery does n't
make as much noise as a sewing-machine."
"But I hear the hum of his blower," the
young man persists.
"Nonsense! Do you think he would set his
blower going when he is trying to get near
enough to rip a hole in our hull, and knows
we are watching for him?"


866


[AUG.






THE TRICKS OF TORPEDO-BOATS.


t 7A
. _f-' _^ .--. '* .. ..- .:
~ --;*. 6~


A DEADLY MESSENGER- TORPEDO-BOAT DISCHARGING A TORPEDO AGAINST A BATTLE-SHIP.

"How near must he come before he could coast, and so stolen away around to the north,
launch a torpedo effectively ?" asks a newly ar- and then, turning back, had approached so
rived ensign. near that he might have discharged a torpedo,
"About eight hundred yards--less than which would probably have disabled or de-
half a mile," the executive officer answers. stroyed the Miantonomoh, and then could have
Then silence follows. The intensity of atten- backed away into safety.
tion becomes painful. It is believed that Fletcher This is only an example of the constant game
has gone somewhere down the bay, and the of hide and seek which that mischievous little
light is most often searching the boat is playing every
gloom in that direction. Now few days in New-
and then it swirg= elClcnlire. [,)rt harbor. Now-
where suddenly, on:u in the days she is
north, it lights Lup tiH under orders
lost boat, and hardlI .. to go and
five hundred yard-] "attack"
away! every war-
Lieutenant ship that
Fletcher had re- she learns
ally gone south, isapproach-
but skilfully run- ing the port.
ning the gantlet .. Tle training this
of the waving eL co all hands is
paths of light er) .ialable, and no-
from ship and bo,.l ll begrudge Jack
shore, he had r,.- Uei, ji le cet[ out of it. Nor
sneaked along s- is ti schoohng all on one side. The
the opposite THE SEARCHLIGHT REVEALING THE TORPEDO-BOAT. Officers and men of the big ships learn to


x896.1






THE TRICKS OF TORPEDO-BOATS.


defend their vessels as well as the torpedo-
boat men learn to attack. The management
of the searchlight is an art to be acquired only
by experience; and Fletcher, in the Cushing,
and Lieutenant Roy C. Smith, in the Stiletto,
find it much harder, nowadays, to get unseen
within range of one of our cruisers than they
formerly found it.
But imagine the excitement and strain of at-
tention and anxiety on a dark stormy night in
actual war, when the fog or rain is so thick that
the beam of the searchlight seems to flatten out
against it as it would against a stone wall, and
maybe half a dozen torpedo-boats are creeping
up in an effort to send you to Davy Jones's locker!
The navy men can now begin to understand the
sensations of an army picket in the Indian coun-
try, where an Apache or Sioux may be crawling
with savage cunning from bush to bush, or
wriggling from one hillock to another like a
coyote, till he can get within bowshot and' send
the unseen arrow on its deadly errand.
But in actual war well-managed ships would
never be so openly exposed to an enemy's tor-
pedo-boats as was the Miantonomoh when the
Cushing was playing at war with her those sum-
mer evenings. Her own scouts would be out,
acting as pickets, and a larger kind of vessel,
called a torpedo-catcher, would be patrolling the
neighborhood, ready at an instant's notice to
pursue and chase away, or with her light guns
to sink, the daring stranger. As a matter of fact,
however, the navy of the United States does
not yet possess any torpedo-catchers; though
doubtless some of our swift private steam-yachts
would quickly be purchased and armed to serve
that purpose were a need for them suddenly to
arise. European navies include many of them;
and one of the latest made for the British navy
is probably the fastest vessel in the world. She
is 185 feet long and only 19 feet wide, and on
her trials ran at the rate of thirty-three miles an
hour -as fast as an ordinary railroad express
train.* Her engines are so large and power-
ful, that were the engines of one of the great
battle-ships as powerful in proportion to its hull
they would exercise a force of more than 300,-
ooo horse-power. This little express of the sea


- which is armed with light but very powerful
guns--had the impudence to circle round and
round a traveling gunboat, which was itself go-
ing as hard as it could, and might have bored
her through and through with steel shells from
every direction.
Various means have been adopted to guard
ships of war against torpedo-boats. Battleships
and cruisers on actual service are provided with
nets of strong wire, which can be stretched at
the ends of light iron poles or booms around
the vessel when anchored, or carried abreast of
her when moving. This net hangs like a fence
sunk fifteen or twenty feet into the water, and is
intended to stop a torpedo and render it useless
at a safe distance. But various devices called
" net-cutters have been contrived against this
safeguard, and some naval officers believe that
the nets will afford little real protection. The
best safeguard against torpedo-boats is vigilance
in discovering their approach and quickness in
destroying them. The victory in war nowa-
days is on the side which pushes the fighting
hardest, and here is where an active torpedo-
catcher is valuable. Soldiers and sailors must
act upon the principle of the old sergeant who
was teaching the use of the saber, but gave no
instruction in guarding: "Monsieur, I teach
you the cuts : leave the parries to the enemy."
It is enough to say that our officers who
know torpedos best fear them the most; and
that they are the men most anxious that the
American navy should possess an adequate out-
fit in that direction. Great Britain owns hun-
dreds of torpedo-boats. France, Germany,
Italy, and Russia have two hundred or so
apiece. Even Japan possesses 120 or more,
and they did excellent service in the war with
China. The United States, which invented the
torpedo, and has led the way in perfecting it,
has a dozen or so, more or less ready for
service.
We have perhaps gained one advantage, since
peace has continued, by our delay in pro-
viding our navy with a proper number. We
shall now be able to profit by many improve-
ments; but naval authorities tell us that we
must take care that we do not delay too long.


*A newer boat, tested last March, made 353 miles an hour- the highest speed ever made by any boat.


868










































y "


f1000


. -'


THE GRASSHOPPERS' BALL. THE MINUET.


'F'





















NJ r. ATJ- 3e5'y.

ONE Saturday morn, at break of day,
The Very Good Friends went out to play;
And, oh! such fun as they had there
Has never been told of anywhere!
First, the tit and the tadpole, all in lace,
:I With the coon and the camel ran a race;
Then the cow and the pickerel danced a jig
To the lilting strains of the guinea-pig;
And the goat and the gopher sang a song,
While the woodchuck waltzed the owl along;
The mud-turtle laughed, Ha-ha! hi-hi "
And gamboled away with the dragon-fly;
The pussy cat winked at the bumble-bee,
And all was as gay as gay could be,
Till the grizzly bear sat down to mope
Because the mole had the skipping-rope.
At this the oyster cried "Halloo!"
And pulled the tail of the cockatoo,
And jumped around with such noisy glee
That he frightened the crocodile up a tree.
And then the Good Friends, both great and small,
Sat down to dine-and thnt is n.l.
Oh, yes! oh, no! I r
forgot-
The kangaroo,
Who sailed in a yacht
From Kalamazoo,
But arrived too late
to see the fun, \.. /
And found no food '
but a big Bath -
bun.


u

P

















No. Il. At School.
THE': school-bell rang ker-kling! ker-klang!
The roll was called by the orang-outan,
And the Very Good Friends, with all their mig ht.
Began to study and to recite. .
The gander began the exercise
By dotting his t's and crossing his i's;
Then the moose and the water-bug stood
up straight
And read a page in the Book of Fate;
The sand-hill crane and the mountain-mink
Gave the three-toed sloth a solemn wink,
And toeing the mark, with a knowing look,
Read three times through the spelling-book.
"Bah, bah!" said the sheep, that's no great trick,"
And he skipped the whole arithmetic.
Then the katydid stroked his chin and said,
" Ker-flickity-flip," and went up to the head.
Then they all agreed that some of the laws
Of the Medes and Persians were wrong because
The hippopotamus could n't get
The hypothenuse of the all:.i-,abl
By crossing two sticks rnid a iaing the ends,
Although he had joined. the V.:ry G.:,-l
Friends.
That is understand tl -r: .N
all agreed
But- the kangarc, .
Who was signing a deed,
And crying boo-hoo,!
In a pleading tone through
the telephone,
From a thousand miles.
beyond the Rhone.





































... .^ ^. ,


"I VE BRINGED YOU A LITTLE DOLLY, BOSSY."


I1B.F~ "

p- rjf


IN and out, in and out,
Goes my shining way.
Never stop for round about,
Put it through, I say.


Push along, push along,
Neighbor Thimble, do;
Though I 'm bright and stout and strong,
I have need of you.






THE NEEDLE.


I 've a stitch in my side,
Hem in my throat;
I have to run
Like a mountain goat.
I fell, but never a hurt got I;
And merrily sounds my gathering-cry.

In and out, in and out,
Goes my shining way;
I shall do, beyond a doubt,
All my work to-day.


Follow me, follow me,
Neighbor Thread, now do;
Though I 'm clever, you can see
I have need of you.


K3pi BROTHER NEEDLE goes
a-flashing,
Goes a-darting and a-dashing,
Out and in, and in and out
Making a surprising rout.


After him I slip along,
Make things snug and fast and strong.
Without -bragging, I may be
Quite as need(le)ful as he.
VOL. XXIII.- 1o.


Never make a kink in me;
Careless sewing that would be.
Keep me clean, nor leave a track
Where I pass, of gray or black.

Little fingers quick and light,
See that you are clean and
white.
Do your part, and me you '11 find
Smooth to slip and safe to bind.


873

















THE ROCK-A-BY LADY.


WORDS BY EUGENE FIELD.


MUSIC BY A. M. SMITH.


u- -__j = --^.- .- I

I. The Rock a by La dy from Hush a by Street Comes steal ing, comes creep ing;
2. There is one lit te dream of a beau ti ful drum, Rub a-dub dub it go eth;
3. And dol lies peep out of those wee lit tle dreams With laugh ter and sing ing;








1 -- --- f


The pop-pies they hang from her head to her feet, And each hath a dream that is ti ny and fleet-
There is one lit tie dream of a big su gar plum, And lo! thick., and fast the oth er dreams come,
And boats go a float-ing on sil ver-y streams,Andthe stars peek-a-boo with their own mistygleams,


j-F^ ^ M


'^ ^ ^ .L







THE ROCK-A-BY LADY.


So shut the two eyes that are wea ry, my sweet, For the Rock-a by La dy from Hush-a-by Street,



"-_ -







Withpop-pies that hang from her head to her feet, Comes steal ing, comes creep ing!



p ppp "i


12 _


THE LETTER-BOX.


CONTRIBUTORS are respectfully informed that between the Ist of June and the z5th of September manuscripts cannot conveniently be
examined at the office of ST. NICHOLAS. Consequently, those who desire to favor the magazine with contributions
will please postpone sending their MSS. until after the last-named date.


WE reprint here the verses by Eugene Field of which
a facsimile of the original copy is printed on page 838.
Mr. Field's handwriting was so very delicate as to be
difficult for even young eyes to decipher.

CHRISTMAS TREASURES.

EUGENE FIELD'S FIRST POEM.

I COUNT my treasures o'er with care-
The little toy that baby knew,
The little sock of faded hue,
A lock of golden hair.

Long years ago, this Christmas time,
My little one--my all to me-
Sat robed in white upon my knee,
And heard the merry Christmas chime.

"Tell me, my little golden head,
If Santa Claus should come to-night,
What shall he bring my baby bright--
What treasure for my boy?"-I said.

And then he named the little toy,
While in his round and mournful eyes
There came a look of glad surprise
That spoke his quiet, trustful joy.


And when he lisped his evening prayer,
He asked the boon with childish grace;
And, toddling to the chimney-place,
He hung his little stocking there.

That night as length'ning shadows crept,
I saw the white-wing'd angels come
With music to our humble home,
And kiss my darling while he slept.

They must have heard his baby prayer,
For, in the morn, with anxious face,
He toddled to the chimney-place
And found the little treasure there!

They came again one Christmas-tide--
That angel host, so fair and white,
And, singing all the Christmas night,
They lured my darling from my side.

A little sock, a little toy,
A little lock of golden hair,
The Christmas music on the air-
A-watching for my baby boy.

But if again that angel train
And golden head come back to me
To bear me to Eternity,
My watching will not be in vain.







THE LETTER-BOX.


EDITORIAL NOTES.

SOME of our young readers may have "skipped the
poems on pages 856 and 857, as perhaps too old for
them, or too like poems for grown folk. But they will
turn again to them with interest when they realize that
these verses are the work of a girl of twelve-the
thoughts that come to her from her favorite flowers and
birds, and the everyday experiences of childhood. As
such, the poems are truly remarkable in depth of feeling
and power of expression, and they seem to us an evi-
dent promise of a genuine poetic gift.
Margaret Frances Mauro is not yet fourteen; and
most of these verses were written before she had com-
pleted her twelfth year. Indeed, she has written prose
and verse since she was six years old. ST. NICHOLAS
has a few other poems from her pen, and these will ap-
pear in an early number.


WE are sorry to say that in the course of transferring
the names of the winners of prizes for the Fairy God-
mother Puzzle" from the original list to the copy sent
to the printer, two names were accidentally omitted.
Helen Sylvester was entitled to one of the second prizes,
and Kathlyn B. Stryker to one of the third prizes.
The proper prizes accordingly have been sent to both
of these very clever young competitors, and ST. NICH-
OLAS gladly prints this note correcting the unfortunate
clerical error.

PHOENIX, ARIZONA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am eleven years old. I live
in the Salt River valley, in the southern part of Arizona.
I have two brothers older than I, and one sister younger.
We all go to school, and have a good teacher. We
have very delightful winters here, but pretty hot sum-
mers. We have lived here ten years and find it very
pleasant. This is the second year we have taken ST.
NICHOLAS and we like it very much. I like the stories
of "The Prize Cup," and "Teddy and Carrots," the
best. We have a dairy and seventy-five acres of land.
In the summer time we sleep outdoors, and then some-
times get quite warm. We always cut alfalfa hay in
the summer and feed it to the stock in the winter. There
was a carnival in Phcenix a week or two ago. I think
every one had a pleasant time. The city was very prettily
decorated. The parade of the first day was fine. The
carnival lasted from Wednesday, the 19th, till Saturday,
February the 22d. We have plenty of fruit in the sum-
mer time. We dry apricots and peaches. We have lots
of nice blackberries.
SYour interested reader,
HARLOW T. K--.

PATE'S, N. C.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am twelve years old, and I
have two younger brothers. We are all tar-heels (as
they call natives of North Carolina) except father and
mother,
I like to read the "Letter-box" because the letters
come from so far, and tell of such strange lands. I do
not remember ever having read a letter from North
Carolina.
I suppose you know all about the cotton-plant, but do
all of your readers know that in the morning the leaves
on a cotton-plant all point toward the sun, and at noon
they lie flat, looking up at the sun, and at sunset they


point toward the west, thus following the sun the whole
day through ?
This is the pleasantest part of the year here. Our
roses, dogwood, and other flowers are all out now.
Ihope you will print a great many more nice stories as
beautiful as those you have already printed.
Your loving reader, MARY H. L-.


BROOKLYN, N. Y.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am thirteen years old, and
I have taken you for nearly ten years.
I like Lieutenant John M. Ellicott's stories very much,
especially as papa is a naval officer and fought under Ad-
miral Farragut in the Civil War.
ST. NICHOLAS is a great help to me in my history and
literature, and I am always very impatient for the twen-
ty-fifth of the month to come so that I can have you to
read.
Hoping to see this letter in print, I remain your de-
voted reader, PERCY D. N- .

NEW BARNET, ENGLAND.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We have taken in your maga-
zine for two years, and have enjoyed it very much. The
stories I like best are "Ruth, Fran, and Nathalie," and
"Jack Ballister's Fortunes."
We have just come to live at a place quite near to the
quaint old town of Barnet, where the celebrated battle
between Margaret of Lancaster and the famous Earl of
Warwick was fought. There is an obelisk raised on the
spot where he fell.
My mother took me to see the Tower of London
a few days after I had read the poem entitled "The
Tower Playmates," in'the February number.
Opposite the Traitors' Gate" is the Little Princes'
Tower," and I saw the very window from which the poor
little princes looked out and saw Bess Brackenbury."
With hearty good wishes, from your devoted reader,
BEATRICE H. W-.


IN WORTH-WHILE LAND.

IT 'S worth while doing everything
In Worth-while land.
It's worth while sitting up late at night
To read a book on doing right
In Worth-while land.

If I lived in Worth-while land, and had
A very dear good mother,
I 'd say to her, "Mama, can't I
Sit up and read another ?"

And if she said, No, dear, I think
You best had go to bed,"
I 'd go without a frown or pout,
And hurry up, there is no doubt,
In Worth-while land.
GODFREY DEWEY. (aged eight years.)


GRAND RAPIDS, MICH.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I meant to write you before,
but I did n't have time. I have two sisters and a dog.
He is very nice. I went out to California this year, and
I had a fine time. While I was in California I went to
San Francisco, and I went to Chinatown, and the chil-
dren look just as it looked in the picture in ST. NICHO-
LAS. The Chinamen make very pretty things, and the
Chinese women also make pretty things.
Last spring I went to Washington, and it was very


876


[AUG.







THE LETTER-BOX.


interesting. I saw them make money, and I saw them
make guns for the war-ships.
I am your interested reader, RALPH B-- .

POTTSVILLE, PA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I am a little girl twelve
years old, and very fond of lively sports, and especially
of bicycling.
Not very long ago, we, a party of six, four boys and two
girls, went out on our wheels and took our dinners with
us; we had a fine time. We played hide-and-go-seek
in the woods. Nearly all of our party were good riders,
but as it had rained just a few days before, the roads
were quite full of ruts, and beforetwe reached our desti-
nation some small accident had happened to nearly every
rider.
Last summer I was the smallest girl rider in town. I
suppose the reason was because only a few ladies and
girls had wheels, but this year about six girls younger
than myself ride. Almost every Saturday since the bi-
cycle season has commenced, I have been out in the
woods for dinner, and expect to go next Saturday if it does
not rain.
I have a pet bird named Sankey," who is very funny.
In the evening as soon as it gets dark he gets cross, and
if you were to stick your finger in his cage he would
peck as hard as he could (which is not very hard). He
will fight with papa when he has n't his hat on, but as
soon as he dons it Sankey is afraid of him and flutters
around the cage. Sankey is half bullfinch and canary,
and so is not very yellow, but a sort of a greenish color
with an orange-tinted head.
I have traveled quite a little bit, but have never seen
the ocean, so mama has promised me that I may go to
Atlantic City this summer, to my great delight.
Although I am not much of a reader, as I do not sit
still long enough, I enjoy you so much that I can hardly
wait from one month to another to see you.-
Hoping to see this letter printed, I remain ever your
interested reader, HELEN E. M-- .


WE are glad to print this letter from a little friend who
is blind. The original is in the raised characters used
to enable the blind to write. Each dot represents a point
pressed above the smooth surface of the paper.


*I *! ..
/livM. ",s ,g
4':" "
A* t* i 0..
-. -..: : .,.-.*'t: : .
& r C -z-t






-'.i ,.' *t-.,*: -=. ''-: t :


tkt A
"...*" *..* .t -



:A: ..* s .*.s .; *i


r% %a: ..* aX-.
cy&4: rt t t -t "4t
S e-, 5 .. S ... -





O/ jR rO *I.:. **-
M NI.. s.-.: -
t J c'so-

*.... ** .

:. .w .
ent frommyaunt, Ieny it vr m




: t n y o .. a .






BRISTOL, R. I.
Mv DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have taken your delight-
ful magazine for a long while. It is a Christmas pres-
ent from my aunt, and I enjoy it very much.
I am thirteen years old, and live on a large farm. I


handsome. The pony is a roan mustang, and his name
is "Jack." Jack is the best riding-horse, and Countess
is the best driving-horse. I ride a great deal. Next
week papa says he Will take me to the riding school and
teach me how to jump fences.
I think Teddy and Carrots" was a very good story;
also "The Prize Cup."
I want to tell you about a circus we had. A lot of my
playmates had a private circus. I wrote the programs
and the tickets. We had it in my friend's yard; there
is a circle in front of the house forming the driveway,
and this was the ring. The seats were in front of the
ring.w We had one girl for the ring-master, and she car-
rieda lon whip. We had three ponies -myponynd
and my friend's two ponies, which are a pair and jet
black.
There wereou about a dozen girls in the audience, and


a tiny black dog who will ride the pony, and we had a
lot of races. I have a large yellow pet cat named "Jo-
seph "; we have also eight horses, two dogs, two cows,
and a flock of sheep.
Bristol is the place where the yacht Defender" was
built. I.must now close. Your loving reader,
MARGUERITE W- .


DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl twelve years
old. The other day I sprained my ankle on my "safety "
bicycle. I wonder if any of your readers ever went-
or rather, lived for two years in Japan! We did. It was
very queer; but I like America best.
They say such funny things, as "if the most beautiful
goddess of the sun would condescend to look at the most
humble of her slaves, that same poor slave could an-
nounce the joyful news that supper is ready."


877







THE LETTER-BOX.


We lived in Tokio part of the time, and when the day
was very fine we had a very fine view of the Fujiyama
(sacred mountain). Twice when we were there the town
caught fire, and large families could be seen squatting
on the sidewalk with all their household goods around
them. Your little friends,
EDNA and ETHEL M-.


DELAFIELD, WISCONSIN.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We do not always live in Wis-
consin; only in the summer. In the winter we live in
Chicago. We have just built a new summer home up
here, and are settling it now. From our front porch
we have a beautiful view of a lake-- Nagawicka Lake is
the name of it. Our lot is on the lake. My mama is
very busy now clearing up after the carpenters.
I expect to have a great many of my little cousins and
friends here this summer. I shall be twelve years old
next Tuesday. Mama says I am getting so big that
pretty soon she cannot hold me in her lap, but that I
must hold her!
With many good wishes for a long life for you, ST.
NICHOLAS, I am your loving and constant reader,
HAZEL B-.


FORT ASSINIBOINE, MONTANA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We have been enjoying you
for four years now, and I hope you will never stop coming
to our house.
I am visiting myuncle in the army now. I have been
living on a ranch in Montana for two years; but my real
home is in Detroit, Michigan. I am a little girl eleven
years old. I have a pony and two dogs; one is named
"Buff" and the other is "Roxy." My pony's name is
"Doc." He is what they call a cow-horse- that means
that he will bring the cows up with hardly any guiding.
One time my brother was riding Doc after the cows,
and had his rifle with him. He saw a coyote. He
started after the coyote, and followed him into the woods;
but a branch knocked my brother off behind, and the
horse went on without him, and brought the cows home
all by himself. I think he was very smart.
Your devoted reader, KATHLEEN R- .

BLUEFIELDS, NICARAGUA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I live in a little town called
Bluefields, in Central America, and I am ten years old.
There are only five other white girls in town of my age
that I can play with.
At one end of town there is a point of land stretching
out into the water called Old Bank, and at the other end
there is one called Cotton Tree Point. Back of town
there is a forest where the land is very marshy, and you
can hear the screeching of the parrots.
The ships that come in have to anchor seven miles
from town, and small sailboats called lighters go out to
bring ashore the passengers. The houses of the natives
have two rooms with a few wooden benches and a table
in them. The food of the people is the same every day.
There are many kinds of fruits here ; there are guavas,
mangos, star-apples, bread-fruit, and many other kinds.
Back of town there is a hill, and at the foot of it is
a creek called Gunboat Creek. There are many ferns
and wild flowers on its banks, which we gather. Our
house is right on the bank of the lagoon, and I often
gather sea-beans among the rocks.' We cannot go in
bathing on account of alligators and sharks. At one end
of the Tagoon is a small island called Rama Cay, where
nobody but Indians lives. I have been there several
times. There are a good many mango and orange trees


on this cay. The only fruit shipped from here is the
banana. I was on a banana plantation a' short time ago
up the Bluefields River.
I have taken you for four years and like your stories
very much. Your loving reader, HAZEL S- .


THE BROWNIES.

YEARS ago in a foreign land,
There lived a cunning Brownie band;
Many pranks they played at night,
But vanished ere the morn was light.

The Brownies on a quite dark night,
When there was not a bit of light,
To a neighboring barnyard went,
And there this time the night they spent.

They drove the hens quite off their perch,
And hung upon a neighboring birch;
They fed the hens with bread and cheese,
Which made the roosters cough and sneeze.

But now the early dawn appears,
Which sends each Brownie into tears;
For it is time to take to flight,
And wait until another night.
S. D. HADLEY, JR. (aged eleven years).


GRAND RAPIDS, MICH.
MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have been reading the
letters in the February and March numbers, which made
me want to write to you. One of my friends let me take
some last year's numbers, and this year I have it myself.
My dolls gave a masquerade ball yesterday. The cos-
tumes were very pretty. One was Queen Wilhelmina of
Holland, another, a rosebud, another, queen of Persia, one,
Marie Antoinette, one, a Swiss, and one, a Scotch girl, one a
countess, and one was in just a common dress. We asked
Marie Antoinette how she felt when she was beheaded.
The queen of Persia took the prize for the best costume.
I am eight years old and I love you dearly.
MARGARET ANITA L- .

NEW YORK CITY.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I arrived from England last
week and expect to stay in America for some time. I am
English myself, and I love Old England ardently. My
aunt, who lives in America, sends you to me every month,
and I look forward to your monthly arrival with great
pleasure.
I have on our place in England three ponies, five dogs,
and quite a good many deer. I very often go to thehunt
with my father. I am going out West soon for about
three months, and expect to enjoy myself, as I am very
fond of riding, hunting, and all such sports. I remain
your devoted fourteen-year-old reader,
CEDRIC LAWRENCE C-.

WE thank the young friends whose names follow for
pleasant letters received from them: Lyle Bownes, Ha-
zel Van Wagenen, Pauline R., Marion K., Robert I.
Miner, Hylda J. Ostter, Edith Rose Moore, Helena B.,
Edith W. C., Florence Louise Roberts, Harold M. B.,
Ruth W. Stetson, Horace H. McCulloch, James S.
Wroth, Jennet J., Marjorie Bancroft, Mary V. Estill,
Helen S. H., Lucie B. Goodin, Dorothy A. Bedell, Lena
Head, E. M., Mary Edwina Walker, Willard T. Lovell,
Frank Elser, J. B. Kiltman, Kenneth C. Boush, Annie S.
Hawke, Bennie Butler, Hildegard and Karl L., H. McC.


878

















ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE JULY NUMBER.
PRIMAL ACROSTIC. Lewis Carroll. Cross-words: L. Label. 2. CONNECTED SQUARES. I. I. Bear. 2. Ease. 3. Asps. 4. Rest.
Edwin. 3. Water. 4. Idols. 5. Shoal. 6. Crane. 7. Alice. 8. II. Clot. 2. Love. 3. Oven. 4. Tent. III. I. Twit. 2.
Round. 9. Robin. 1o. Older. ii. Lower. 12. Lover. Wide. 3. Ides. 4. Test. IV. i. Hart. 2. Area. 3. Reel. 4.
DOUBLE CENTRAL .AcROSTI. Fourth row, Cawnpore: fifth Tale. V. x. Trow. 2. Rare. 3. Oral. 4. Weld.
row, Massacre. Cross-words: x. Precepts. 2. Rewarded. 3. ILLUSTRATEDDIAGONAL. Custer. Crosswords: I. Cannon. 2.
Showcase. 4. Furnaces. 5. Gripsack. 6. Choosing. 7. Spo- mUsket. 3. piStol. 4. morTar. 5. rapiEr. 6. daggeR.
radic. 8. Schemers. CROSS-WORD ENIGMA. Old Glory.
DIAMOND. I.. 2. The. 3. Truly. 4. Thunder. 5. Elder. PRESIDENTIAL ZIGZAG. "The Man Elect." Cross-words: I.
6. Yer. 7. R. Thomas. 2. Thread. 3. Cleave. 4. Carmen. 5. Repeal. 6.
Broken. 7. Jockey. 8. Collar. 9. Coerce. ao. Acumen. ix.
DIAMONDS CONNECTED BY A CENTRAL SQUARE. I. I. D. 2. Turbot.
Pet. 3. Pasha. 4. Despise 5. Thick. 6. Ask. E. II. NUMERICAL ENIGMA. Little Lord Fauntleroy.
B. 2. Ore. 3. Omens. 4. Breathe. 5. Entry. 6. Shy. 7. E.
III. x. Green. 2. Rollo. 3. Elder. 4. Elect 5. North. IV. CHARADE. Insupportable. RIDDLE. Wrong.
i. R. 2. Ned. 3. Niger. 4. Regular. 5. Delay. 6. Ray. 7. R. HOUR-GLASS. Gluck. Cross-words: Fagot. 2. All. 3. U.
V. i. R. 2. Lad. 3. Laden. 4. Radical. 5. Decay. 6. Nay. 7. L. 4. Act. 5. Joker.
To OUR PUZZLERS: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the I5th of each month, and
should be addressed to ST. NICHOLAS "Riddle-box," care of THE CENTURY CO., 33 East Seventeenth St., New York City.
ANSWERS TO ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE MAY NUMBER were received, before May isth, from M. McG.--Paul Reese-Josephine
Sherwood -G. B. Dyer -Paul Rowley--" Jersey Quartette "-Nessie and Freddie-Donald Small- Helen C. McCleary-"Three
Brownies" -L. O. E.-Truda G. Vroom-" Chiddingstone" H. A. R.-Kathlyn B. Stryker-Ella and Co.- Clive- Katharine
Swift Doty Two Little Brothers-" Tod and Yam."
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE MAY NUMBER were received, before May I5th, from Mary Beecroft, i-Wm. Walter Kettle, I
Elsie M. Peabody, 3- Katharine Allis, x- Lulu C. Shearman, i- Randolph S. Bourne, 3 Albert McGarvey, x-Mary Shreve,
2--Elizabeth Gundrum, -Ada and Helen Garrison, 3-Mary H. Pusey, Mab and I," 4- James M. Dohan, 4- Cora M. Pea-
body, 2 Fred Haskell, i- Marian J. Homans, I--Drury V. Haight and Claude H. V. Hook, ix-Oskytel H. C., x- W. L., xi -
Anna T. Harding, 2 Efie K. Talboys, Ralph W. Kiefer, 2 -J. O'Donohoe Renme, 5- Betty Kay Reilly, 4--M. J. Phil-
bin, 2- "Princess Marguerite," --Edna aylor Smith, 6- Asseo, 3 --Wilbur L. Caswell, 2-Wmi. Parker Bonbright, 2- Felix Men-
delssohn, 4- Nick, Chick, and Patsy, 5 -A. N. J. and Antoinette Heckscher, 8- Adulcentes," 5- Mary Rake,- 2 Brynhild," 2,
-"The H. Twins," 5--Frederica Yeager, 4- Roberta E. Conway, --Belinda, Charly, and George, 4- Marguerite Sturdy, no-
James E. Lehman, i- Edward Jackson, 8- Fannie J. L., 8 Edgewater Two," 0o Cyril Bruyn Andrews, i- Bessie and Percy, 5-
Embla," 8 Marion and Elsie, 8 Woodside Folks," 7- Clara D. Laner Co., 2 -Van Neste and Franklin, 7-- "Merry and Co,'"
Io F. E. Turner, 5 -W. Y. W., I-- Sigoumey Fay Nininger, 12- The Butterflies," 8 Laura M. Zinser, 7 --Daniel Hardin and
Co., 8 -Mary H. and Ernest T. Rossiter, xx E. C. C. E., 6 -Aunt J., Mania, Papa, and Jack, 4 ClaraA. Anthony, zr.


DIAGONAL.

WHEN the words have been rightly guessed, and writs
ten one below the other, the diagonal (beginning at the
upper left-hand letter and ending with the lower right-
hand letter) will spell the name of an explorer.
CROSS-WORDS: I. Pertaining to the place where Her-
cules killed a lion. 2. Floating in water. 3. To keep
back. 4. An essay. 5. Thin and sharp. 6. To en-
feeble. P. R.
PRIMAL ACROSTIC.

THE words described are of varying lengths. When
rightly guessed, and placed one below another, in the
order here given, the first row of letters will spell the
name of a famous general and a wild animal. Each
cross-word has two meanings.
CROSS-WORDS: I. Small animals, and the place where
a famous convention was held. 2. The surname of the
Englishman who spread the false rumor of the "Popish
Plot," and a grain. 3. A domestic animal, and a famous
essayist. 4. A cunning animal, and the founder of a
religious sect. 5. A bird and a coin. s. F. N.

FALSE COMPARATIVES.

EXAMPLE: Positive, a boy; comparative, a builder's
device. Answer: lad, ladder.
I. Positive, an article of jewelry; comparative, an ar-
ticle used in the laundry.
2. Positive, part of a harness ; comparative, acrid.
3. Positive, to allow; comparative, an epistle.
4. Positive, a very small object; comparative, an ec-
clesiastical head-dress.


5. Positive, to leap lightly; comparative, the master
of a vessel.
6. Positive, a haze; comparative, a title.
7. Positive, a fowl; comparative, an Eastern dye.
8. Positive, a light fabric; comparative, the surname
of one of Whittier's heroines.
9. Positive, a human being; comparative, the land be-
longing to a nobleman.
Io. Positive, airy; comparative, a barge.
MARY FRANCIS STONE.


PROGRESSIVE GEOGRAPHICAL ENIGMA.

MY I gives a vegetable we all like to eat,
And 2 is the measure of a circle complete;
My 1-2, a river you all know about,
With 1-2-3, the cork comes out.
Mind I and 3, and your manners will mend,
While 4, like eternity, has never an end.
My 5-6-7 is a bird, beast, or fish;
My 6 is an article to use when you wish;
6-7 brings you close to the place you would see;
My 8 is a letter which plain to you must be;
My 9-1o-11 you often call a child;
My 1 is a beverage, refreshing and mild,
My 12 will only remind of a measure,
Or a part of your house, if such is your pleasure.

Put all these numbers in one long row,
And a wonderful place at once they will show,
Which rhymes with a metal, and also a kettle,
Which one is the best? 'T is for solvers to settle.
M. E. SAFFOLD.







THE RIDDLE-BOX.


HOUR-GLASS.

MY centrals, reading downward, spell the same as my
first cross-word.
CROSS-WORDS: I. Babbles. 2. Popular or vulgar ex-
pressions. 3. Consumed. 4. In central. 5. A.bever-
age. 6. To fold. 7. Arrayed.
"JERSEY QUARTETTE."
RHOMBOID.

AcROSS: I. Part of a watch. 2. To take notice of. 3.
To smear. 4. Intense. 5. Slender. 6. To turn sud-
denly.
DOWNWARD: I. In harpist. 2. An exclamation. 3.
A masculine nickname. 4. Inanimate. 5. A combat
between two persons. 6. A kind of meat. 7. An ac-
complice. 8. A denial. 9. In harpist.
SAND CRABS."
WORD-SQUARES.

I. I. EASIL broken. 2. A boy's name. 3. Bones
of the body. 4. A slope. 5. Entertainers.
II. I. A small quadruped. 2. Astir. 3. A city of
Italy. 4. A town of Bohemia.
III. I. A piece of meat. 2. A fish. 3. Gumbo. 4.
The sharp end or top of anything. DEE AND CO."
CHARADES.
ALL of the following charades may be answered by
the names of well-known contributors to ST. NICHO-
LAS.

I. Myfirst, an old word for "I think";
My second goes from brink to brink;
My wholeis one whose books will link
All boys to love for pen and ink.

II. Myfirst is skin for making leather;
My second is a kind of heather;
My whole 's a writer altogether
The best there is for any weather.

III. Myfirst you find in farm or field;
My second many pounds will yield;
My whole a witty pen doth wield
In plots that puzzle, late revealed.

IV. Myfirst is but a cobbler's tool,
My second is his home;
My whole wrote stories, as a rule,
That classics have become.

V. Myfirst a flower is,-like none other -
It sticketh closer than a brother.
My second, when thrown overboard,
Sometimes returns with precious hoard.
My whole writes books that make a noise,
And only crusty churls
Complain she writes of girlish boys
As well as boyish girls.
L.- E. JOHNSON.
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 Scottish road-maker whom all bicycle-
riders should esteem.
CROSS-WORDS: I. A Hebrew prophet whose story is
told in one of the books of the Old Testament. 2. To
brag. 3. An inferior kind of black tea. 4. To switch
off. 5. The upright post about which the steps of a cir-


cular staircase wind. 6. A fruit which grows on avine.
7. A musical wind-instrument. 8. A small theatre of
ancient Greece. 9. The last letter of the Greek alphabet.
Io. To irritate. II. A carving in relief, especially on a
small scale, used as a jewel for personal adornment. 12.
Roving. 13. Relating to a city. 14. To step on. 15.
A wicked city, whose story is told in the Old Testament.
16. Mortal. 17. A source of mechanical power.
JOSEPHINE B. DAY.

ILLUSTRATED PRIMAL ACROSTIC.


WHEN these animals have been rightly guessed, and
the names placed one below another, in the, order in
which they are numbered, the initial letters will spell
the. name of a distinguished Englishman.

ANAGRAM.

THE pen-name of an author:
NEAR CLAN AM I.

AN OBLIQUE RECTANGLE.













I. IN blessing. 2. Sorrowful. 3. A confused mix-
ture of sounds. 4. An evil spirit. 5. A sweetheart. 6.
The upright post at the foot of a flight of stairs. 7. A
kind of fortification. 8. Toil. 9. Celebrated. Io. A
puzzle. II. Of a dull brown color. 12. In blessing.
NEAL V. FATIN.


THE DE VINNE PRESS, NEW YORK.


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