Front Cover
 Front Matter
 What Margery saw
 Out-of-the-way corners in Westminister...
 Bicycle song
 Samantha's summer boarders
 At school a hundred years ago
 Upon a dull and cloudy day
 The swordmaker's son
 The romance of the olden time
 Joseph Francis
 Sindbad, Smith & co.
 The city of stories
 Bob, and Joshua, and Balaam
 A composite sport
 Fireflies up-to-date
 Talks with boys and girls about...
 The jumping bean
 The story of Marco Polo
 A boundless sea
 Three little scientists
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover

Title: St. Nicholas
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00315
 Material Information
Title: St. Nicholas
Uniform Title: St. Nicholas (New York, N.Y.)
Alternate Title: Saint Nicholas
Physical Description: 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Publisher: Scribner
Place of Publication: New York
Publication Date: -c1943
Frequency: monthly
Subject: Children's literature -- Periodicals   ( lcsh )
Genre: periodical   ( marcgt )
Dates or Sequential Designation: -v. 67, no. 4 (Feb. 1940) ; v. 70, no. 1 (Mar. 1943)-v. 70, no. 4 (June 1943).
Dates or Sequential Designation: Began with: Vol. 1, no. 1, Nov. 1873.
Numbering Peculiarities: Suspended Mar. 1940-Feb. 1943; vols. 68-69 omitted.
Issuing Body: Published by: Century, Aug. 1881- ; by Educational Pub. Corp. -1940; by St. Nicholas Magazine, 1943.
General Note: Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
General Note: Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00065513
Volume ID: VID00315
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
        Page 882
    What Margery saw
        Page 883
    Out-of-the-way corners in Westminister Abbey
        Page 884
        Page 885
        Page 886
        Page 887
        Page 888
        Page 889
        Page 890
        Page 891
        Page 892
    Bicycle song
        Page 893
    Samantha's summer boarders
        Page 894
        Page 895
        Page 896
        Page 897
        Page 898
        Page 899
        Page 900
    At school a hundred years ago
        Page 901
        Page 902
        Page 903
    Upon a dull and cloudy day
        Page 904
        Page 905
    The swordmaker's son
        Page 906
        Page 907
        Page 908
        Page 909
        Page 910
        Page 911
        Page 912
        Page 913
        Page 914
        Page 915
        Page 916
        Page 917
    The romance of the olden time
        Page 918
        Page 919
    Joseph Francis
        Page 920
        Page 921
        Page 922
        Page 923
        Page 924
        Page 925
        Page 926
        Page 927
        Page 928
    Sindbad, Smith & co.
        Page 929
        Page 930
        Page 931
        Page 932
        Page 933
        Page 934
        Page 935
        Page 936
        Page 937
        Page 938
    The city of stories
        Page 939
        Page 940
        Page 941
        Page 942
        Page 943
    Bob, and Joshua, and Balaam
        Page 944
        Page 945
        Page 946
        Page 947
    A composite sport
        Page 948
    Fireflies up-to-date
        Page 948
    Talks with boys and girls about themselves
        Page 949
        Page 950
    The jumping bean
        Page 951
        Page 952
        Page 953
    The story of Marco Polo
        Page 954
        Page 955
        Page 956
        Page 957
        Page 958
    A boundless sea
        Page 959
        Page 960
    Three little scientists
        Page 961
        Page 962
        Page 963
    The letter-box
        Page 964
        Page 965
        Page 966
    The riddle-box
        Page 967
        Page 968
        Page 969
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text




Copyright, r896, by THE CENTURY Co. All rights reserved.



Do you know why Margery's eyes are bright
As the moonlit drops of dew ?
Do you know why Margery's heart is light,
And Margery's tears are few?
This glad little maid has found by chance
The fairies' woodland ring,
And there she has seen the fairies dance,
And has heard the fairies sing.
Oh, I wish we could!-but we need not strive,
For this is the fairy law,
That only the best little girl alive
Can see what Margery saw.

Their ring is deep in the cool dim wood,-
The murmuring brook beyond.
'T is a magical, mystical neighborhood
On the shore of a sheltered pond;
The crickets chirp in the twilight hush,
And the katydids blithely call,

No. II.

And the wonderful trills of a fluting thrush
On the ears of the dancers fall.
And I 'm sure we are anxious, you and I,
To discover that ring ourselves;
And, creeping close to it, soft and sly,
To see the frolicking elves.

Oh, Margery knows how they skim the ground
And flutter their gauzy wings!
And Margery knows the liquid sound
They hear when the wood-bird sings.
The firefly shimmers his tiny spark,
And the owlet winks and stares,
When the madcap fairies tread the dark
In scores and dozens and pairs.
But to find that dancing-ring, and see
The feather-foot fays arrive,
There is only one way, and that 's to be
The best little girl alive!







IN the first place it might reasonably be
asked what feature is left in so famous a build-
ing as Westminster Abbey that is not an old
story; but, as a matter of fact, there are about
the wonderful old structure many interesting
things which the ordinary tourist never sees,
and the general note-taker never mentions.
One reason for this is that, amid such an im-
mense number of interesting objects as are to
be found here, some must almost necessarily
be overlooked; and then, too, there are certain
portions of the Abbey that are closed to the
public, and can be seen only by special per-
mission of the dean himself, and so these cor-
ners are seldom visited by the mere tourist, and
are still less frequently described.

While spending some time in London re-
cently, I became acquainted with one of the
best informed of the vergers who are con-
nected with the Abbey, and, under his guidance,
when he was at leisure, I passed many delight-
ful hours wandering about the building; and,
though I thought I was perfectly familiar with
it before, I found that a wealth of interesting
details had escaped me. Some few of these
I will describe here to quicken the recollections
of those who may have visited the Abbey, or
to serve as a guide to those who are yet to
view its monuments and relics.
In the west aisle, between the monuments of
those two great men, Warren Hastings and
Richard Cobden, is one of Jonas Hanway,



whose chief claim to fame is that he was the Probably no part of the Abbey is richer in
first man in England who carried an umbrella, historical associations than the Jerusalem Cham-
It is not probable, though, that this is the rea- ber. It was here that Henry IV. was brought
son why he was buried in the Abbey, since he to die in 1413, when he was taken ill in the Ab-
was also famous in his day as a traveler and a bey, just as he was starting on a pilgrimage to the
philanthropist. He journeyed much in the Holy Land. While making his prayers at St.
East, and wrote a most interesting account of Edward's shrine, that the saint would speed
his life there. Afterward he came home, and, him on his way, the king fell down in a fit. At
making a tour of England, wrote so dull a book that time there were no conveniences for heat-
about it, that it drew from the celebrated Dr. ing the Abbey, and the only fireplace connected
Johnson the characteristic remark that: with the entire structure was in the Jerusalem
Jonas acquired some reputation by tray- Chamber. Thither the king was brought, and
eling abroad, and lost it all by traveling at laid down on the floor before the fire, where he
home." soon expired. It is said that as he recovered
In the north aisle of the nave there is a monu- consciousness, he inquired where he was, and, on
ment to a naval officer, Admiral Tyrrell, which being told, accepted his situation as the fulfilment
represents the admiral as going up into heaven of a prophecy that he was to die in Jerusalem.
out of the sea, and is so absurdly designed Later there assembled in this room the stately
that, from the representation of clouds which company of divines who compiled the West-
crowned it, it has come
to be called the Pan- i
cake" monument.
The Jerusalem Cham-
ber is entirely outside a n h -a t
the Abbey, near the I/ i
west end. This was Ii!,
the withdrawing-room ':
of the abbot's house,
and still belongs to the "- .
Deanery. It probably -:-
received its name from "
the subjects of some hr o
tapestries which deco-
rated the walls; and
many other rooms in
the old palace of West-
minster had equally p
fanciful names such
as Heaven," Para-
dise," and "Antioch."
The Jerusalem Cham-
ber is reached by sev-
eral passages, and a
modern sense of the
fitness of things has
caused a smaller room,
enters these passages, to be called the "Jeri- minster Catechism, while later still there sat
cho" Chamber, because it is a "sabbath day's around the heavy table which now fills the
journey" from one to the other! center of the room that serious body of


learned men who labored so faithfully to re-
vise the Bible.
Not far from the Jerusalem Chamber is the
College Hall. This lofty room, of noble pro-
portions, was the refectory of the abbot's house,
and now is used as a dining-room for the boys
of Westminster School. This is a famous old
school, supported by the funds of the Abbey,
and directed by the officers connected with
that institution. The massive tables which are
ranged about the room, and from which the
boys still eat, are made of heavy chestnut planks
taken out of the Spanish Armada, and two of
them still show deep dents made in them by
English cannon-balls. It was only under the
management of Dean Buckland, who died as
lately as 1856, that a stove was put into this
hall to heat it. Up to that time the primitive
method which had been in vogue for centuries
was adhered to, and the smoke from a huge
open brazier, which stood in the center of the
room, curled up among the rafters and found
its way, if it could, out through an opening
in the roof.
Here and there in odd corners one finds
a deliberate tabby, perhaps with well-grown
kittens playing about her. Noiseless and dig-
nified, the cats seem in keeping with the re-
pose of the old building; and no doubt they
are also useful to prevent rats and mice from
trying their sharp, white teeth upon the carved
It is a long walk from the dining-room of
the Westminster School to the coronation chair,
which stands behind the old stone screen, just
back of the altar in the Abbey, but there is an
interesting connection between the two. This
chair, as is well known, is a rude, heavy, oak
chair, much worn by time. It contains the
" Stone of Scone," and was made by the order
of Edward I., in 1297, and every English sov-
ereign since then has sat in it to be crowned.
A stout railing in front of the chair restrains
the crowd of visitors from coming near, but if
they were allowed to examine it as closely as I
was fortunate enough to do, they would find
cut boldly into the solid oak seat, in such
sprawling letters as the schoolboy's knife makes
upon his desk," P. Abbott slept in this chair
Jan. 4th, 180o." P. Abbott, it seems, was a

Westminster School boy, and a tradition, which
there is every reason to believe is true, tells
that he made a wager with a schoolmate that
he dare stay in the Abbey all night, alone.
In order to win his wager he hid in some cor-
ner of the old building until the doors were
locked for the night, and thus was left alone
there. Fearing, however, that, when morning
came, the boy with whom he had made the bet
would disbelieve his statement that he had won
it, he determined to have some proof of the
fact, and so spent the hours of the early morn-
ing in carving on the coronation chair the sen-
tence which, even now, nearly a century after,
bears witness for him. It is disappointing that
the tradition does not record just what form
and amount of punishment was visited upon
the lad for his escapade, and that history does
not tell us of his later years. I wonder whether
the courage and grit which this deed mani-
fested foretold an energetic, successful life, or
was dissipated in mere bravado.
When a sovereign is to be crowned the coro-
nation chair is carried around the screen, placed
in the sacrarium before the altar, and a robe of
cloth-of-gold and ermine thrown over it. It
has been taken out of the Abbey but once,
and that was when Oliver Cromwell was in-
stalled in it as Lord Protector in Westminster
Hall. Beside it is a companion chair, as nearly
like it as possible, which was provided when,
at the coronation of William and Mary, it was
necessary that two thrones of equal importance
be employed. Although the chairs are of very
nearly the same size, the seat of the newer one
is quite four inches higher than that of the old,
an interesting commentary on the human na-
ture of sovereigns: William, as is well known,
was a small man,. several inches shorter than
his royal wife, who was considerably above the
height of the average woman. In order that this
inequality in height should not be so conspicuous
at the ceremony that the king would be made to
look insignificant by it, the seat of the chair in
which he was to sit was made high enough to
bring his head on a level with that of the
Near the center of the south wall of the nave
is a monument to Major Andr6 of Revolutionary
note. The very long inscription upon it be-




t- '- -w I b-. & .. -_re,
,.'-' .'' ] ,_l,' t ie III -
SSore i oro

i JON S 1AN Y ,:, i c,:,I ri.nk

-- Adjuani-
General of the British forces in America, and
employed in an important but hazardous en-
terprise, fell a sacrifice to his zeal for his King
and country, on the 2nd October, 1780, aged
twenty-nine, universally beloved and esteemed
by the army in which he served, and lamented
even by his foes."
About the base of the monument, which is a
panel set against the wall, are several small fig-
ures. These project from the panel, and repre-
sent the presentation of Major Andr's letter to
General Washington on the night before his exe-
cution. The ease with which the heads of these

i L I.t ,!illy n. i .isert i l s i l Inr m the tfa :t
iitr C-asthe- Lwanton misief of sme scho of
boy f ired perhaps with raw notions of trans-
atlantic f.." Sreed Te, t1 dre, sien St:y,

he added, "wThe mischief was done about
the time that you were a scholar there. Do
you know anything about the unfortunate
relic? There is now fastened upon the wall
: |i, h .: *I I_,rii,>: l|'i:_ and 1',--r *:t in ,,: j
:ri,:,us Iii:,rrel :I ;re'J r Iezn ],en ii'ti- h *,n,.t
Lam bl b, ::u..:,. tl.,,= irr t, sipe .i !rii in ice:kir,-l

of the nave, above the' monument, a wreath of
oak leavesthe wantohich Dean Stanley, when he visitdchool-
boyAmerica, gathfired perhapsed near the sprawl notons of the ban
atlantic freedom." Then, addressing Southey,
he added, The mischief was done about

othe time tHudson riverat you were a scholar there. Do
you know anything about the unfortunate
relic ? There is now fastened upon the wall
of the nave, above the monument, a wreath of
oak leaves which Dean Stanley, when he visited
-America, gathered near the spot on the bank
of the Hudson river where Andr6 was exe-
cuted. Although Andr6 died in 1780, it was
not until 1821 that, at the request of the Duke







of York, Ii' bOn.ic: were c\- ',-a
.Anied ja.nd triken t,: Eni iandij
o .,- b bued iii tlhi Abbey. The
.:nx in hich the, i- ere piat i
:'or the %'.N :ii u r -.111till prcecr'cii \
- it i t i te ,:r: i;,_, iN ,: r St. I: p';
ch.itici. ihliere the -i::. filures
are kept.
One of the _rcat[ect -:,1' thie iim.ny
a.ibots who h. i-- rld thel ALbe'.
iw Is.hlf, '.ho I 'thell :! fii: in tl: .-
:e niili' century, H Te hi'A gc,.i:u'. 1.)
ari:hitectur*.: i : ,- ,:id s,:, m u ib r... ri. the-
:,iiljing *:" Vl. *tint'n-ter aind theri .: the-
dri tir.:ugliut[ Itc klirdJn [LhUr i-e is
i '. i n hii to':,i t thile ,r' t bui,.l. r.'
H i; b,:,,. li r L, uired at[ \\W,_itmnin [,r, it
a hrr.: i.ijhapl i::ile.:l L, ii n.,meiic, near
tlic- .. ernt r : ,,. In 'l.::' -n'r :i'ldij
'I.i ldinrm ili;- ch:i|:i- lI t :he b oir mi.il.. tli.
io:1!1- itcilf i riionuimixnt i.: l imciiim :rT ,
I.) repleatini g ,:'. er .'l r i l :.e r aLi :. in i7n llhe
el: a Lc,. :i r- ,: r'. :, :itone ne:, v, !i,: :-i 1 ,1:,:rn :
the % ill hii- !i:,oin 'rite r-Lu-, _r .rijn e !ii
- ii C', .- iti ti Li : lit I -ip m>.
a tr: r..i [..I. i t hli.in1 :.irinJ. :i -.1 i: nd
f:rni, a2 n -iil d i.P iiiC ti'mn tlh brianc:li i.t a
tite to, the gro..indl.
Ye.tr-: aiz 1 fliglit o:'i nlrr :.. -.', : e i t e ,ieps ,-il
..:, the rl c ttor aLbo:v thlie :!chia l, but rnicet ha c
long since been ::\erci 'ilh -od, ad tilhe :.rj.-
t:r\ is usIed as a t :rai e 1.i.i i: for the 1amot-,U -
w'va e gie, thlie iler t grte.-ri l.ie and bI .a [re-
served of which may stil be seen there. These
wax statues are the mementos of a strange
old-time ceremony. Long ago, when a great


_' i.
ir __,I r I l, :i -, li i-

man or woman died, it was
the custom to model a representation of the
deceased, dressed as in life, which was carried



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il (11-: It'LT r:I I ..r --: 'ri. l' ,-i ct!'e L ui l.I
th ,: I.f, .\ A J C I .. I l' : j .; 1 -I:' -I I, I.*-: -
r.) iir,% *uin- lenrt. I I1 -, Id G': ;i ti r '.'1 I.
..r.:l.c : .i: ith it hiringm th,: Im >_ tl.hat Lhi
S-' ,' ji ". I e:. iii I i r .;is I ii -'-'Lr r
t :i ,\ t' it. L '.ti f i-l. or p.in h I ..it
po.,, r, I z or c -, it..[h'l co1...i n .t:i lt]r t. ,. [, r_ 1 -
:'n rc '-re -i t I.:l. II tl : .r: 'I" 'rcti,
the -t i t :f t.:i ,t l, t i in -,, iti ti for :'i
m ..,ntli n.ki thoi.i h -itt'-r C harles II d:,..i
I"i: 'l'* l'. f --irc : l. : 1 lf-r r .. c'l -.tn un'-.l ; .-r
I -,, [t..m L. n thi- .: : [.el ,tf H :,i V II, l i,. l
\ t. 't'-- .-n' l 0, ) U'i rLif i r I I'r_ ,'l.
T !, r,:,\ l e- L !-6 : r,:- i l, i \\V r:tr kn tIr er
.la e L.:I k t,:, t al c._,i...,rtc rb ::.rn tui l.ir "ill
.,f th,- ,..l..-, ':t ,'-,ne'_: :tre :,-, r'oi.,ri l tj and .lh.-
l -,. .c-, th -tt th ;,r.: j' t :I !.:. |. 'i. l[ .t .' ;," ,:'o "
ti n wic re ,f -t, c: : L._ '. z r! i -
v i t: r' .i... -l,- r, > n or i i t ter

r.u e- .i -t till pr-, r\ cd:l, c ,.-l, : '.ir, i r-
1:tl,, in .1 L 1 i- ,: b i- L r-, t ,: l. 1 ,..l .,.:.: : l e :.
II Ih ,-,' D r,:. i n 'j i, -,J :lk 1"i ,:i t irt ii -I .:i ir,"
:':., il -:\ l':,' 'it :,: ': -i i lltl'i; 1 .., :,Fn tr :, r t': t e ir
-: fels, i r_. iel _,I, ..,:,i'r ,:,! ithr t ...mn il- bek.- .
TrlIt it 0'm- c i th, l omLj n,-i u i. .,I i ii :i :n
short flight of steps had translated the visi-


Ii I l .! .F .




s :I ll,.;i':- l Ih -. I .- -. I
Th,- o :,I, t fi.[ re her: th.a
of C lh:rl., II It i ,',,-c l o thle b u!..-
an..l rcd e e I:L.,c of t,.-he G.,rtcr. "
trl.n m e Jd it : i'li,'."l I..IL old :o .t:e e-
Bi, i: .*l. .i !. a ri, er ,:.:,.. !. t un, t, i- 1a 't I ,'c-
ute ..,1" G_ ner ti M onl:. .l_.i n !i IHTi.:,r i
T-!. h .- ,.-fthe .,,r v n, t L.,r,. lut "

it :.-ri !i ll, -ali -., rh, i.:'p., t l imu r. '
ti,..,:.: i, the "* I[c,..!,IL,., LecL-,: ": .

i l.l :..u, r .:.r. N -,:,- ,,, M ;l, t.,,-, M. ,:,- :. ,,,:l \V :,!.. -:t.. '..|
r,: ..' ,,[-_, ,,- ,-:...L :,u s,,l [l ,. le([, ,r I. ,,l l^ S ,lil

" i :- I,, ,- th,: H:11. ..I .:....*I M .:,,,,.! L., A l :,.:, u h.

Iti t ,: l -t ,,-r.litur,, the cr : 'rs,, .' et' : ,,,'- n tlie '- '-- .
ft- l, [. .ior -i -e 1. U : t' hi4- : :i A E; E ,;
hiwt th:, lreir "r,,e t, l l 't '- m i'1t b.a ,
c.:|.r -i'h' i1"..re .:t-L.-l L.,' j ,-rr n:, l _.:.iri .]r.-.i.[,. -'l il,.r,:, n t ... /
G .:.lvi,: .th i. i :, h i-: r .:.-:..t. e.1l 0 1 z:,i;':in ,-, ; ''! :it
t tl-: .\- b L..: ',. ,, ...t rl i: :. -[ .. in .in -i.:..:.u ..tA' "i
c .,n"\,:ri r i .: .i rb the ; er .:- .l i.. :. his u. i e.. "- P ] ,.
ficild, t vlia gl,. Li.Lo Cap., h1,v c .OSL originally ?' ihlat, air,'


says he, I don't know; but this cap is all the
wages I have for my trouble.' "
The two latest figures, those of the Earl of
Chatham and Admiral Nelson, were unques-
tionably put in by the officers of the Abbey
merely for show purposes, to increase the at-
tractiveness of the exhibit. That of Lord Nel-
son is interesting from the fact that it is dressed
in a suit of clothes which the admiral once
wore. There seems good reason to believe this


to be true, since, when Maclise borrowed the
figure as a model while he was painting his fa-
mous painting "Death of Nelson," he found
attached to the lining of the hat the eye-
patch without which the admiral, who was
blind in one eye, never appeared. Nelson
is buried in St. Paul's in spite of his famous
exhortation to his men at the battle of Cape
St. Vincent, where he cried, Westminster Ab-
bey, or glorious victory! "




d' 6

'r 4% --
tsgy ir



SLIGHT upon the
Firm upon the
S. Fortune's wheel in
Fast beneath
our feet,
5> Leave the clouds
behind us,
Split the wind we meet,
Swift, oh, swift and silent,
Rolling down the street!

When the dark comes, twinkling
Like fireflies in the wheat,

Bells before us tinkling
Fairily and feat,
By the gate of gardens,
Where the dusk is sweet,
Slide like apparitions
Through the startled street!

Spearmen in the desert
Maybe fly as fleet,
Northern lights in heaven,
Sparkles on the sleet!
Swift, oh, swift and silent,
Just before we greet
The outer edge of nothing
Turn rolling up the street!




> SAMANTHA came up the road
I at a rapid pace. Her short,
broad feet, encased in coarse
leather shoes, made deep tracks
in the white dust. The strings
of her sun-bonnet flew back over her shoul-
ders, and her limp calico frock flapped feebly
about her ankles as she ran. A pert little
squirrel frisked along the rail fence, and the
first daisy of the season nodded from the
roadside, but she heeded neither and never
paused until the front gate of the Tuft farm was
reached. In at this gate then she turned, al-
lowing it to slam sharply behind her as she sped
on up the straight path and in at an open door,
standing hospitably open.
Once within the cool, narrow entry, however,
she stopped for breath and called:
"Ma! ma! where are you, ma? "
"Here, S'manthy In the milk-room!"
echoed faintly from rear regions of the old, sub-
stantial stone house in which three generations
of Tufts had "lived and moved and had their

being," and the eager girl hurried off to that
cleanest of sanctuaries, where the June sunshine
was reflected from the brightest of tin pans on
the well-scrubbed shelves, and where she found
her mother vigorously plying the dasher of a
great churn standing in the middle of the stone
So you are back at last," she said. Did
you get the meal, and the brown sugar, and the
turkey-red cotton? and did you call at the
post-office ? "
"Yes, ma'am, everything;" and Samantha
deposited sundry brown paper parcels on the
table. But, ma, I want to ask you something!
May I take a boarder this summer?"
"You take a boarder exclaimed Mrs. Tuft,
and a scornful little laugh brought a deeper red
to her daughter's cheeks. I pity the boarder
who would have to depend on the cooking of a
bookworm like you, S'manthy Jane! I suppose,
though, you mean will I take one? But I say
no. Had enough of it last year with that artist
chap from the city. Bless my heart, what a


nuisance he was! Lyin' abed till all hours of
the morning, wanting his breakfast when Christian
folk were beginning to think of their dinner, and
traipsing over the country half the night to
secure what he called 'moonlight effects.' No;
when he went I made up my mind -no more
fine young gentlemen lodgers for me "
But this one is n't a fine young gentleman,"
interposed Samantha, a roguish twinkle dancing
in her eye.
"Well, a lady is ten times worse; and as for
the responsibility of a child, I would n't think of
it for a moment."
i'But it is n't a lady and it is n't a child; and
he 'il eat and go out and in just when you want
him to," argued the girl.
Mrs. Tuft paused in her churning, although
the butter was just commencing to come, and
gazed at the now laughing maiden in puzzled
astonishment. Now, S'manthy Jane, quit that
giggling and mystifying, and speak out plain.
Who is it you want to take to board ?"
Mr. Pettijohn.' "
And who, pray, is Mr. Pettijohn ? "
He 's old Miss Granger's fox-terrier, and
the brightest, cutest little fellow you ever set
eyes on. He would n't be a mite of trouble."
Did she ask you to take charge of him ? "
"Yes, for three months, while she is away
visiting her sister. I met her in the post-office,
and she wanted to know if I would look after
him for a dollar a week."
"What did you tell her ? "
I told her I would, gladly, if you had no
objections. And you have n't really, have you,
ma dear? I shall enjoy having the little beast
here, and the twelve dollars will almost pay for
my commutation-ticket to Homeville next fall."
Then you are still set upon goin' to the
Normal College ?"
"Oh, yes, if I can earn money enough to buy
proper clothes and pay my traveling-expenses
back and forth. Pa says he cannot help me, al-
though he would be proud enough to see me a
teacher. I thought this offer was a real god-
"Well, I dunno what to say! You know
your father does n't fancy dogs overmuch."
But I 'm sure he would n't mind a tiny
chap like this," Samantha argued.

"And you've had twice the schoolin' now I
ever had."
Which is lucky, since I have n't half your
faculty for butter-making and housekeeping.
Why, Miss Granger said just now she wanted
her 'dear little Petty' to come here, because
she felt sure we could be relied on. She knew
it because Mrs. Tuft's butter was always so
sweet and good, and her pound-rolls such true,
honest weight."
Mrs. Tuft's countenance relaxed at this com-
pliment. It was her peculiarity to raise objec-
tions and then in the end to yield; for in her
heart of hearts she was vastly proud of her
clever child, and longed to give her every ad-
vantage possible. That they are. Miss Gran-
ger is a nice, sensible woman, and I suppose
we might as well accommodate her. A dollar
a week will be some help, and mebbe, S'man-
thy, since we may as well be hung for a sheep
as a lamb, you can get a few other four-footed
boarders to keep the little creature company."
Perhaps so, but I fear not in this neighbor-
hood"; and the girl turned demurely away,
suppressing a smile at the hearty way in which
her mother had come over to her side.
So Mr. Pettijohn came to the farm, and
quickly won the good-will of everybody by
his cunning tricks and gentlemanly manners.
Truly he was a veritable Chevalier Bayard
among dogs, as brave as a diminutive lion,
and with the sunniest temper, greeting one and
all with a pleasant little bark of welcome, and
such a friendly offering of his small, white paw,
that it was quite captivating. Samantha wished
she could open the house to a dozen such easy-
going inmates; but the near-by village of Bri-
arly was not large, and the majority of its in-
habitants were people of moderate means who
would have considered it the height of extrava-
gance to "board out their pet animals.
Nevertheless, a week after the fox-terrier's
advent, Judge Newcome, the leading citizen
and wealthiest man of the place, suddenly de-
termined upon a flying trip to Europe, and
drove out to ask our young heroine to take
charge of a handsome and valuable cockatoo,
as distinguished for her linguistic accomplish-
ments as for her brilliant plumage; while Mrs.
Newcome, who was to accompany her husband,



begged that she might also send some highly
prized palms and rubber-plants, agreeing to
pay five dollars a month for the bird and the
Joyously did Samantha consent; and Farmer
Tuft declared they had a "home circus every
night," with Mr. Pettijohn playing "dead dog,"
and dancing and standing on his head for sugar,
and Madam Fatima making grave, funny
speeches, and singing Daisy Bell" in a voice
like a rusty door hinge.
Not yet, however, was the happy family com-
plete; for on one of her visits to the post-of-
fice Samantha was surprised to receive a letter
addressed to herself. It proved to be from
Miss Granger, and ran thus :

DEAR MIss SAMANTHA: I am trying to persuade my
sister to join me in a "conducted tour to the Thousand
Islands and Quebec; but she hesitates on account of hav-
ing no one with whom to leave Gumbo," an interesting
pet, to whom she is as much attached as I am to my pre-
cious Pettijohn. It occurred to me then that you would,
perhaps, be willing to take him on the same terms as
you charged me, and I write to ask. He could be ex-
pressed to Briarly, and you would, doubtless, find him
very amusing, while he could be chained, should he ever
prove troublesome. Please let me hear from you by re-
turn mail, and oblige Yours faithfully,
"Good news, mamsey! good news! Another
dog is coming to be a chum for Mr. Pettijohn!"
shouted the girl, gleefully, as she reached home
with this epistle, and you may be sure, she
lost no time in answering it, and gazed with in-
creased satisfaction at the chamois-skin purse
that became heavier and heavier every week.
Won't you and Gumbo have jolly good fun
together ? she remarked twenty times to the
terrier, who listened knowingly, wriggled as
though in delighted anticipation, and then
rolled over at her feet with all his four slender
legs in the air.
Ten days elapsed, and then at last, one even-
ing, an express wagon drove up to the gate,
and a grinning country youth carried in a small,
brown object--an object not unlike an ani-
mated mummy, with the wickedest twinkle in
its deep-set beads of eyes, and chattering like a
whole flock of magpies; for the journey had
sadly ruffled Master Gumbo's feelings, and he
arrived in the worst possible humor.

A monkey! shrieked Samantha, scarce be-
lieving her eyes. Mrs. Tuft threw up her hands,
and tumbled speechless into a chair, while her
husband fairly roared, exclaiming, "Well, the
clown for the circus has come now, sartain sure!"
As for Mr. Pettijohn, he skipped round on
three legs, growling and barking in a perfect
frenzy of excitement.
Oh, dear, dear! whatever shall I do with
the creature! Miss Granger ought to have
told me plainly!" wailed the girl indignantly
when, having recovered from her first surprise,
she led the way to an outer summer kitchen,
where the expressman chained the gibbering
beast to a table, and, having supplied him with
food, they left him to rest and recover from the
effects of his trip.
Indeed, I am afraid an indignation meeting
was held under the Tufts' roof that night, but
in the morning Gumbo appeared quite a differ-
ent being. He was tame and docile, readily
made friends with Samantha, and even cuddled
in her lap and rubbed his round brown head
against her shoulder, while it was comical to
see him hold an apple in his almost too human
hands and nip off bits with his sharp little teeth.
Finally, too, Mr. Pettijohn was induced to ex-
tend a paw of welcome to the newcomer, which
the monkey accepted gingerly and with an ugly
grimace. Ere long, however, they became ex-
cellent comrades and had many a scamper
together over the green lawn.
But now Samantha found her hands pretty
full and was up with the sun every morning to
feed her charges, give the dog his bath, comb
Gumbo, clean Fatima's cage, and water, and
wash the leaves of, Mrs. Newcome's plants,
which throve finely on the cool, shady north
On the whole, the monkey behaved fairly
well and was the delight of every urchin in the
neighborhood. There were days when his young
keeper declared he was a perfect angel in fur,"
and, sending him up into the cherry-trees, she
pelted him with tiny pebbles, at which he would
fling her down the ripe fruit in retaliation and
seem to enjoy the sport. But on other days the
very spirit of mischief appeared to possess him,
and nothing was safe from his marauding little
paws. He had a well developed taste for



rummaging, and would' poke into every box,
drawer, or closet carelessly left open, bearing
off anything that caught his fancy. A caller at
the farm one afternoon was nearly frightened
out of her wits at sight of Gumbo leaping down
the stairs arrayed in a yellow silk shawl and
with Mrs. Tuft's best Sunday bonnet perched
on his saucy head; while, apparently, the set
purpose and ambition of his soul was to purloin
the longest feathers from Fatima's gay-hued tail.
Time and again the family was summoned
to the cockatoo's cage by wails of woe and
sharp cries of" Ma Pa S'manthy! Come,
quick! Gumbo 's a-stealin', Gumbo's a-stealin' ]
Po-or Fatima! Ow-w-w and arrived just in
season to rescue the shrieking bird from the
naughty rascal's depredations; after which he
spent hours chained up in disgrace, but, I fear,
was released as unrepentant as ever.
So the summer wore away until August, when
Mrs. Tufts was called to her mother, who was
ill in a town a hundred miles distant. I
can't bear to leave you alone, daughter," she
said, to keep house, look after pa, and take
care of the critters by yourself; but if your
grandma should die without my
seeing her I could never forgive
myself, while you must have Minty
Jones over every Saturday to bake
and clean up."
Of course you must go," replied
Samantha decidedly, "and we shall
get along famously I don't doubt."
But she did not feel so cheerful
as her words indicated, and with
rather a sinking heart, she saw the
traveler depart.
She was not fond of housework,
and it was with a bit of a sigh that
she laid aside her beloved books, "GUMBO
with which she was preparing for
the fall examinations at Homeville. But she
determined to do her best, and bravely carried
out her resolution, sweeping, cooking, churning,
and scarcely spending an idle moment, for she
thought: "Ma has been so kind about my
boarders,' I '1 show her I do know something
besides algebra and Latin, and one need n't be
helpless if one is the bookworm she calls me."
Her father found her a bright, sympathetic
VOL. XXIII.- 113.

companion, and became more confidential with
her than he had ever been, as they sat on the
porch at eventide, with Mr. Pettijohn curled up
between them, and watched the sunset behind
the distant hills.
He told her of a large sum of money due
him on the i5th, with which he intended to pay
off part of the mortgage on the farm; and said
that he hoped, by the time she had finished her
course at the Normal College, to be able to,
give her a year in one of the large cities, there
to acquire certain finishing touches in music
and languages-" for I want my girl to hold
up her head with the best teachers in the land."
"Oh, dear pa, that is more than I ever ex-
pected," she said gratefully; and it was with
delighted awe that she beheld a great roll of
greenbacks which Mr. Tuft brought in one Fri-
day morning, saying: "Put those away very
carefully, S'manthy, until Monday, when I mean
to drive over to Homeville and see the man
who holds the mortgage."
Where will be the safest place ? she asked,
glancing round the summer kitchen in which
she stood, one end of which was occupied by a


big, old-fashioned Dutch oven, built by her
great-grandfather. Then, as her eye fell on
this mound of bricks, she cried: Oh, I know!
I '11 hide them in the oven; nobody will ever
think of looking there."
No, I reckon they won't," laughed Mr.
Tuft with an approving nod, as he strode back
to his work, while she rolled up the bills and
deposited them in the dark brick recess asso-




ciated with Thanksgiving turkeys and Christmas
pies; for it was used only on special occasions,
when extra large baking were to be done, a
stove answering for every-day needs. She had
just lightly shut the door, and was turning to
get something for Gumbo, who was chatter-
ing impatiently for his dinner, when a rosy,
freckled face was popped in at the window, and
the familiar voice of a young neighbor ex-
claimed :
"Hello, Samantha! I have just run over to
see if you can go berrying with us to-morrow.
All the boys and girls are going up on Blueberry
Hill, where they say the hucks' are as thick as
Oh, Jennie, I should love to, but I can't
leave the house alone! Though-wait! Black
Minty is coming to-morrow, so perhaps I can
get away. I '11 ask pa."
Do, and we '11 stop for you at nine o'clock.
Good-by, then, for we 're making plum sauce
at our house, and I have n't time to linger a
second." And off cheery Jennie Parsons hur-
ried, leaving Samantha fascinated by the idea
of a day's outing.
Her father urged her to go. "You have
been tied pretty close of late," he said, and a
little junketing will do you good. Next week,
too, harvesting begins, when there will be extra
hands to feed, and you may not have another
chance to pick berries this season."
So Samantha set her house in order betimes,
and was all ready when the wagonload
of merry, laughing young folks drove up.
Their coming was heralded by Fatima

three times the usual amount of bread and
cake and pies for the harvest men."
"Yes, 'm, I '11 'member"; and with a light-
some heart the little housewife finally clambered
into the cart.
Let us take Pettijohn," suggested some one,
as the dog sat up on his hind legs and begged
piteously to be of the party. So he, too, was
tucked in, and off the jolly crew started to
where Blueberry Hill raised its verdure-clad
peak toward the azure August sky.
For once, too, report spoke truly, and the
huckleberries were "as thick as spatter"; so
baskets and pails were filled to overflowing, while
never did sandwiches, eggs, and dropcakes
taste more delicious than those enjoyed by the
side of Wintergreen Spring, a little crystal pool
standing in a moss-edged basin fit for a fairies'
well. Indeed, it proved a halcyon day in every
respect, and Mr. Pettijohn was the life of the
goodly company, displaying all his choicest ac-
complishments for the entertainment of the
picnickers and the bones of the broiled chicken;
while, as they rode home in the purple gloam-
ing, Samantha thought she had rarely felt so
happy. No shadow of threatening evil clouded
her bright spirits.
"Your father is waiting for you at the gate,"
remarked Jennie Parsons as they approached
the Tuft farm; and when they drew up he came
forward to assist his daughter to alight.
Oh, pa, we have had a lovely time!" ex-

bobbing her gray crest in the sunny door-
way and piping:
"Here they come! Git up! Hip, '''
hip, hurray! "
Black Minty," Mrs. Araminta Jones,
was on hand and promised to do "a -
hull mess o' bakin', and keep a sharp
eye on the brown gemman, though she -
'lowed she felt drefful timorsome when
dat leetle monkey glared at her for all LOWED SHE FELT DREFFUL TIMORSOME WHEN DAT LEETL
de world' like de Voodoo doctor and MONKEY GLARED AT HER.'"
looked so mighty mysterious." claimed Samantha; "and I trust all has gone
"Just turn Gumbo out in the yard and he smoothly here. Did Minty give you plenty
will be all right," said Samantha; and, Minty, of dinner ? "
be sure that you don't forget we shall want "Yes, yes, child; a great plenty." But, as





the rest of the merrymakers rolled on, calling
back many a cordial "good night! he turned
a white, drawn face toward the girl, and asked
in a husky whisper: "S'manthy, where is the
money? "
The money ? What money ?"
The money for the mortgage."
"Why, it's in the Dutch oven, of course.
You know I put it there and you agreed that it
was the safest place."
"Then it is gone!" and with a groan the
man leaned against the fence and buried his
head in his hands.
"But, pa, it can't be gone! Who would
take it ?"
"It's burnt up."
"Burnt up ?"
"Yes. Minty has been baking there."
It -is n't-possible! and now Samantha
also turned pale.
It is true. She says you told her to cook
up an extra lot of victuals for the harvest men,
and the stove oven is so small she thought it
would save time to use the old brick one."
But that takes hours to heat."
"Yes, but she made a fire right after you
left and baked in the afternoon. When I came
in to supper, the summer kitchen was like a
Did you look for the bills ? "
Certainly, and not a scrap of them is to be
found. My one hope was that you might have
moved them elsewhere. I tell you, child, it's
a big loss for a poor man, and I don't know
how I 'm ever goin' to make it up!"
Feeling half dazed then, Samantha entered
the house, where she came upon Araminta sob-
bing loudly and the cockatoo mocking her;
though the bird at sight of her keeper imme-
diately began to cackle, ." Drefful hubbub,
S'manthy! Fatima's a good girl! Gumbo 's
been a-stealin'! Bad Gumbo "
Oh, dear! I wish the worst trouble was a
monkey trick! sighed Samantha, raking fruit-
lessly in the yawning hot oven, while the col-
ored woman protested: I did n't know Miss
S'manthy, 'deed I did n't! 'Twixt dat sassy
parrot and pesky botherin' ape I 'm most plumb
crazy, and, Miss S'manthy, you 'd ought to hab
tole me 'bout de bankbillses."

But I never dreamed of your making a fire
here! moaned Samantha wearily, and as soon
as possible she got rid of the negress and re-
tired to woo the oblivion of sleep with a dumb,
crushing weight on her young heart. If only
I had not gone to the picnic!" was her last wak-
ing thought.
The next day was Sunday, and a blue Sun-
day it proved. Mr. Tuft complained of a
headache and lay on the sofa, refusing either to
talk or eat; while, though his daughter went to
church, she heard little of the sermon and cried
softly all through the prayers. In the after-
noon, she took her little chamois-skin purse
and, creeping to her father's side, slipped it
into his hand. "Take it, pa," she said, "for it
is all I can do. I have decided not to go to
college, and ma and I will work hard and help
to make up the loss."
"It was n't your fault, dearie," he answered,
rousing at this, and I would n't take your
small earnings if I could help it; but I must
scrape and scratch together every penny to pay
the interest. I had so counted on being free
of part of my burden to-morrow, and can't deny
it is a great blow, S'manthy-a great blow!"
"Poor pa! -he looks ten years older than
he did on Saturday," thought the girl as she
watched him off to the fields on Monday; and
so worn out was she by the nerve strain that
three o'clock found her sitting idly on the porch
with her hands folded dejectedly in her lap.
The cockatoo swung overhead whistling softly
to herself; Gumbo was perched not far off, on
an old hollow stump of a tree round which .Sa-
mantha had tried to train some vines; while
Mr. Pettijohn leaped on her knee and, as
though divining her mood, licked her hand
with a warm, sympathetic little tongue.
Oh, Petty, Petty, why do such dreadful, un-
necessary accidents have to happen!" she
wailed, and cuddled the dog in her arms until
he grew restless and went to stir up Gumbo,
when the two were soon engaged in a good-
natured frolic on the lawn.
Presently, the monkey raced across the grass
waving something in his paw while Pettijohn
pranced after, snapping at the fluttering object,
which Samantha dreamily fancied must be a
leaf. He caught it in his teeth, there was a


short, sharp tussle, and then the terrier came
capering back to the porch and laid his prize
at the maiden's feet. Mechanically Samantha
picked it up; but the next instant she started
from her seat with a low, stifled cry, for she held
the half of a badly soiled and torn banknote.
Where could it have come from? But even
while she was wondering, mischievous Gumbo
stole slily up, snatched it from her fingers, and
was off again with Pettijohn at his heels. Tak-
ing flying leaps, he flew to his favorite stump,
where he stuffed the "bone of contention"
deep down in its hollow interior and then turned
upon his rival with a triumphant chuckle, as
much as to say, "No, you don't, sir!"
Trembling from excitement, Samantha fol-
lowed her unruly charges and drove them away,
while her heart seemed to cease beating as
she explored what was evidently Master Gum-
bo's store-closet. A nibbled ear of corn was
first produced, next a plaid cotton handkerchief
suspiciously like Minty's turban; a partly eaten
apple, and then, oh, joy of joys! she drew forth
a roll of greenbacks, the very bills so carefully
hidden in the old oven and mourned as lost! In
speechless astonishment she pinched herself to
see if she was awake, believing it altogether too
good to be true; and yet, after all, it was ex-
tremely easy to understand. She well knew
Gumbo's exploring and thievish habits, and,
undoubtedly, while Araminta was preparing
the oven to receive her light, flaky loaves, he
had investigated it, as was his wont, and upon
discovering the money, had borne
it off to his chosen hiding-
place for stolen goods.
"Gumbo 's been
stealing Gumbo 's
been stealin!
Naughty Gum-

bo!" shrieked Fatima, as the happy damsel
danced toward the house, holding the precious
roll aloft.
"Yes, thank heaven he has!" responded Sa-
mantha, rushing into the arms of her father, who
appeared at that moment; and what is more,
I would like to hug him for it."
"And so would I! declared Mr. Tuft, when
he had heard the story-"though, really, the
little rascal deserves a sound whipping."
He did not get it, however, but instead was
so feasted and petted by Samantha that the
now laughing farmer told her she ought not
to reward wickedness in that fashion."
"I don't care," she retorted recklessly. "The
poor little fellow does n't know any better, and I
am sure he has saved us from a terrible misfor-
tune. But," she added slowly, "it will be a relief
when Gumbo goes home to his mistress, though
I shouldlove to keep Pettijohn for ever and ever."
The bills were found to be all right, with the
exception of the one chewed and torn by the
monkey and dog in their gambols. The half
of the mortgage was paid off only one day later
than her father had expected; and September
saw Samantha the brightest, blithest college
girl in all Homeville. Indeed, Mrs. Tuft-
whose mother eventually recovered--returned
to be rarely proud of her young daughter, who
looked so pretty and womanly in her first long
dress of navy blue, and a becoming turban crown-
ing her neat braids; while she often boasted that
"the girl had turned out as good a housekeeper
as she was a student," and liked
to tell how Samantha had
earned her trim tailor-
made suit and tray-
eling expenses by
her "summer
~ boarders."



IT is a pleasant thing to go to school in this
year of grace, 1896. It is a moderately pleas-
ant thing even to go to boarding-school, unless
one is hopelessly homesick, and I have the less
hesitation in saying this, because I know so
many boys and girls who will agree with me.
But there was a time -a time not so very,
very long ago -when the hardships of school"
was not a fancy phrase, as it is now, to be used
effectively in the Christmas holidays, but when
it had a real significance for the unlucky little
students who were learning what hardship
Only sixty years have passed since the boys
of Eton ventured to beg that pipes might
be laid in some of the school buildings so that
they need not fetch water from the pumps in
the freezing winter weather, and the petition
was promptly rejected, with the scornful com-
ment that they would be wanting gas and Tur-
key carpets next!" At Winchester, another big
English school, all the lads had to wash in an
open yard called Moab," where half-a-dozen
tubs were ranged around the wall, and it was
the duty of one of the juniors to go from tub to
tub on frosty mornings, and thaw the ice with
a candle. Comfort was deemed a bad thing
for boys, lest they should grow up dainty and
unmanly. Cold ? said Dr. Keate, a famous
head-master of Eton, to a poor little bit of hu-
manity whom' he met shivering and shaking in
the hall. "Don't talk to me of being cold!
You must learn to bear it, sir! You are not
at a girls' school! "
But if he had been at a girls' school, I doubt

whether the child would have found himself
much warmer. Fires, in our great-grandmo-
thers' time, especially in England, where the
winters are less biting than with us, were held
to be luxuries more fitting for old age than for
youth. Mrs. Sherwood, who lived about sev-
enty years ago, and wrote stories which all little
boys and girls used to read, tells us that when
she was young she was never permitted to come
near the fire, though it blazed brightly away in
the family sitting-room. Indeed, the discipline
under which she was reared at home was so
exceedingly severe that school seemed by com-
parison a place of pastime and relaxation.
Mothers were then especially anxious that their
little daughters should carry themselves prop-
erly, and grow up straight and tall. To accom-
plish this good end, Mrs. Sherwood, from the
time she was six until she was thirteen, wore a
backboard strapped over her shoulders, and,
worse still, an iron collar around her neck,
forcing her to hold her chin high in the air.
This instrument of torture was put on every
morning, and seldom taken off until late in the
afternoon. Moreover, she learned and recited
all her lessons standing in stocks to turn her
toes out. She was not allowed to sit down in
her mother's presence, and for breakfast, din-
ner, and supper she enjoyed an unvarying mo-
notony of bread and milk. Nevertheless, she
seems to have been a cheerful and contented
little girl; and when the dreadful collar was re-
moved she used to manifest her wild delight by
running as hard as ever she could for half a
mile or more through her father's beautiful


grounds. No wonder that, when sent as a
boarder to a famous French school called the
Abbey School, she thought it the height of lux-
ury to be awakened at daybreak, and permitted
to breakfast near the fire on buttered toast and
tea. In fact, she always writes of the Abbey
as if it were the abode of perpetual and rather
hurtful gaiety; though all we can learn from
her letters is that the older girls were allowed
to visit and receive their friends, that they had
a dance at Christmas time, and that they acted
occasionally The Good Mother," by Madame
de Genlis, and other French plays of a very
grave and serious character.
It was not in this joyous fashion, however,
that school presented itself to another, and far
brighter, little girl, Mary Fairfax, who was born
over a hundred years ago, and who afterward
became Mrs. Somerville and one of the most
learned women in England. Mary was for-
tunate enough to live the first ten years of her
life by the seashore, the happiest, wildest, shyest
child that ever played all day long on the yel-
low sands, and made huge collections of shells,
and weeds, and pebbles, and other treasures
brought her as playthings by the waves. When it
rained, and her mother would not permit her to
run out, she read over and over again the three
books which formed her library--"The Ara-
bian Nights," "Robinson Crusoe," and "Pil-
grim's Progress." Now and then her father,
who was an officer in the English navy, came
home from sea; and finding his little daughter
as ignorant as a child could be, he made her
read aloud to him every morning a chapter of
Hume's "History of England." This was all
her education until she was ten years old, when,
one dreadful day, her parents sent her to a
boarding-school, a small and very expensive
boarding-school kept by Miss Primrose, who
was so stately and so severe that her pupils
used to say they never saw her smile. Thanks
to the healthy, outdoor life she had always led,
little Mary was straight and strong as a young
Indian, but that did not save her from the in-
genious tortures designed for stooping children,
and which she describes for us in her memoirs.
"A few days after my arrival I was enclosed
in stiff stays with a steel busk in front, while,
above my frock, bands drew my shoulders back

till the shoulder-blades met. Then a steel rod,
with a semicircle which went under the chin,
was clasped to the steel busk in my stays. In
this constrained state I and most of the younger
children had to prepare our lessons."
Think of it, you luxurious little people who
prepare your lessons lolling on rocking-chairs,
nestling in sofa corners, or lying comfortably on
warm hearth-rugs before cheerful fires! Think
of studying a whole page of Johnson's diction-
ary every day, spelling, definitions, even the
very position of each word in the long columns,
and all the while unable to lean backward or
forward, or turn your head from side to side-
unable even to see what the girl next to you
was doing! That was a discipline which must
have made home and the dear shining ocean-
sands a picture of Paradise, of Paradise Lost,
to poor, tired, timid Mary Fairfax. And the
worst of it was, she learned so little at Miss
Primrose's school that, when she escaped for
her first holidays, she covered herself with dis-
grace by writing bank-knot for bank-note, and
was severely scolded for being so idle, and
wasting such golden opportunities. She was
taught to sew, however, very neatly, and in
after years she grew so passionately fond of
study, of real, hard, severe, uncompromising
study, that it was necessary, when she was fif-
teen, to take away her candles, so that she
might not sit up half the night over her books.
Even then she used to arise at daybreak, wrap
herself in a blanket,- not being allowed a fire,
-and work away at Algebra and Latin until
breakfast time. She wrote a number of valu-
able works on scientific subjects, and she lived
to be ninety-two years old, proving'that neither
hard schools nor hard study are certain to shorten
our days.
Miss Edgeworth, that beloved Maria Edge-
worth, who has given us some of the best stories
ever written for children, and whose shabby,
well read volumes were the treasures of old-
fashioned nurseries, has told us many things
about her early life at school. She was only
eight years old when she was first sent away
from home, a shy and timid little girl, but too
docile and intelligent to be unhappy, even amid
strange surroundings. She was taught to sew
and embroider very prettily, and to write a neat



clear hand which was destined to be much ad-
mired. There is a prim little letter sent by her
to her father, in which she says:
"School now seems agreeable to me. I
have begun French and dancing, and intend to
make great improvement in everything I learn.
I am sure it will give you satisfaction to know
that I am a good girl."
Her real troubles began when she was taken
away from this simple, homelike place -where
her hardest task had been to work a white
satin waistcoat for her father--and sent to
a fashionable establishment in London. She
was then eleven years old, a small, delicate
child, with stooping shoulders, and her ap-
pearance gave great displeasure to her teach-
ers. The work of improvement was started at
once, and in good earnest. Every day she was
strapped to the backboard until she ached all
over. Every day the iron collar-that favor-
ite instrument of discomfort was fastened
under her chin. Every day she swung the
dumb-bells until her hands could hold them no
longer. It is hardly surprising that under this
strenuous discipline, from which nothing but
the rack appears to have been omitted, school
no longer seemed agreeable to the little girl.
She lost her gaiety, and moped in quiet cor-
ners, reading, or pining for her Irish home and
the younger children who filled it merrily; for
Miss Edgeworth had more step-brothers and
step-sisters than ever fell to the lot of authoress
before or since, and she loved every one of them
dearly all her life.
Have I written enough about the miseries
you might have suffered if you had lived in
your great-grandmother's day ? Would you
like to hear of somebody who really had a good
time when she was a child, and whose splendid

high spirits neither study nor discipline could
daunt ? Then read for yourselves the delight-
ful papers in which Miss Mitford describes for
us her school-life in London just one hundred
years ago. Few things more amusing than these
" Early Recollections have ever been told in
print. We know everybody in that school as in-
timately as Mary Mitford knew them in the year
1796. The English teacher who was so wedded to
grammar and arithmetic- Mary hated to study;
the French teacher whom she both loved and
feared, who had a passion for neatness, and
used to hang around the children's necks all
their possessions found out of place, from dic-
tionaries and sheets of music to skipping-ropes
and dilapidated dolls; the school-girls who
came from every part of England and France;
above all, the school plays -" The Search after
Happiness," which they were permitted to act
as a great treat, because Miss Hannah More
had written it. If you know nothing about
" The Search after Happiness you have no real
idea how dull a play can be. Four discon-
tented young ladies go forth to seek "Urania,"
whose wisdom will teach them to be happy.
They meet "Florella," a virtuous shepherdess,
who leads them to the grove where Urania
lives. Here they are kindly received, and de-
scribe all their faults at great length to their
hostess, who sends them brimful of good ad-
vice to their respective homes. Think of a lot
of real school-girls acting such a drama, and
speaking to each other in this sedate and meri-
torious fashion !-
"With ever new delight we now attend
The counsels of our fond maternal friend."
Yet these girls did it, and enjoyed it, too,
grateful for even this demure amusement, a
hundred years ago.


UPON a dull and cloudy day,
So drear were wold and-town,
The merchant grumbled in his shop,
The shepherd on the down.

The little tailor, scowling, stitched
Cross-legged upon his bench.
The locksmith bent his surly brows,
And scolded at his wrench.

The little schoolma'am, frowning, bade
The restless bairns be still.
The doctor at his mortar moped,
And mixed a bitter pill.

Among his dim and dusty books
The weary student sighed.
The baby in its cradle turned,
And tossed its arms, and cried.

The little brown shoemaker bent
His elbow on his knee;
"The world 's awry. The sun is gone.
The wind is east," said he.

And little Floss went by with cheeks aflame,
And sang a little song without a name.
Her voice was very sweet, oh, sweet and shrill!
A child she was, and blithe, and knew no ill.
And down the street she pied, without a word,
Her heart's sheer gladness, clear as any bird,
And sang (nor knew nor cared if any heard)
And sang and sang until she crossed the hill.
And after she had passed, I know not where,
Her song went ringing on through all the air.

The little tailor, smiling, stitched
Cross-legged upon his bench.
The locksmith hummed a surly tune
Above his busy wrench.



The schoolma'am kissed the smallest child
That to her knee had crept;
The baby in its cradle cooed,
Forgot to cry, and slept.

The student seized his pen, and wrote
Grave words of wisdom ripe;
The doctor sugar-sheathed his pill,
The shepherd tuned his pipe.

The little brown shoemaker tapped
The boot upon his knee.
"The sun is coming out again -
The wind has changed," said he.





[Begun in the November number.]



EZRA the Armorer had long since returned
from his first visit to the Cave of Adullam. He
had afterward made other visits, and had in-
cluded in his errands other places as wild and
as deeply hidden among the cavernous ridges
of Eastern Judea. His wish was to attract at-
tention as little as possible. He could not for-
get his first warning from Regulus, the centu-
rion who had commanded in Samaria at the
time he and Cyril fled from that city. When-
ever near Joppa, one of his comforts was to
talk with Lois and her friends about Cyril, and
to bring them tidings concerning the work and
the followers of Jesus of Nazareth. The Gali-
lean Teacher was now known throughout the
land, and through wide regions of the adjoin-
ing countries. It was said that the pilgrims
who had come to Jerusalem to attend the
feasts, since his ministry began, already num-
bered several millions, and that they had car-
ried away with them his marvelous sayings, and
accounts of his more than human power, to the
remotest corners of the inhabited earth.
Of course great numbers of them had been
from Rome, and the name of Jesus of Nazareth
was known even in the palace of the Emperor;
but the Roman rulers were convinced there was
no danger in him, so far as they were concerned.
Cyril's week of preparation went quickly by;
but he had made the most of it. It seemed to
him that he had never felt better than he did
one morning-it was on a first day of the
week when he was marched out with a gang
of nearly fourscore others, to see how many of
them were really fit to run for a prize in the
presence of the Roman people and the august
ruler of the Roman Empire.

"Run thy swiftest, thou son of Ezra," said
Crispus. "I have no fear for thee. Run thou
like Asahel, or the scourge awaits thy return."
Cyril had no thought of failure. He said to
himself, as they gathered at the starting line:
"I am so sorry for them. Almost all of
them will be scourged."
There was none to protest, for most of them
were bondsmen.
The word was given, and off went the racers.
One man had quickly mounted one of the
horses held in waiting, and now cantered
briskly along with the runners. He was a Ro-
man, he wore his toga thrown over his arm,
and he seemed to be watching the runners.
Away went Cyril, as light of foot as a wild
roe, and the horseman was compelled to spur
his nag, which was a somewhat heavy steed.
There were cheers from some voices behind;
but Cyril knew not what it was for. He had
seen a number of noble Romans at the stand,
and among them was the Valerianus who had
so savagely threatened him.
On, on, on, around the circus oval, and still
the rider urged his horse; but no other run-
ner was near them as they returned to the
starting-line, for Cyril was six good paces
Most noble Tallienus," came with a sneer-
ing laugh from the lips of Valerianus, "thou
hast need of a better horse if thou art to beat
my Syrian panther. I will wage thee a hun-
dred sestertia he wins the race against thy
"Taken! Apollos can beat him! shouted
Tallienus, angrily. Meanwhile Cyril stood
awaiting further orders, hardly knowing that
he had done anything remarkable, until he was
bidden, in a low voice, by Crispus:
Get thee in, my lad! I am proud of thee!
Israel against the world, after all, and this race
will be Galilee against Graecia!"


Even the hard heart of the apostate Jew who
had forgotten the Law retained some national
pride the brother of Rabbi Isaac was still a
Cyril knew the Greek runner who was sup-
posed to be his rival. He had even spoken
with him, but they were now kept apart, by or-
der of the prefect of the games, and no other
public trial of speed was permitted until the day
of the races.
There was a great show for the people of
Rome, but none of the men who were to strive
in the arena were allowed to witness other per-
formances. Like the lions and tigers, they were
kept in their dens until the hour came to send
them out. Then, indeed, hundreds were to go
out to die, but the mere trials of speed of foot
came on before the more barbarous combats.
Just before the hour for Cyril's race, the own-
ers of slaves who were to run, and certain men
of distinction, were admitted to the rooms where
the runners were gathered. Among them were
several whom Cyril had seen before, and he
was soon aware that most of them favored
Apollos. The tall, finely formed young Greek,
half a head taller than Cyril, did, indeed, seem
to promise speed. So did a number of others,
but the son of Ezra had been studying them
during their training, and believed most of them
to be overrated by their partizans. He had
somehow formed a liking for Apollos, and now
it made him sick at heart to hear Tallienus say
unfeelingly to his noble-looking bondsman:
"I promised thee thy freedom if thou wert
among the first four. Now, I tell thee, if thou
art not there, I will slay thee. If thou art only
there, I will give thee a prize. But if thou wilt
win the race I will free thee and thy father's
family, and will also give thee back thy confis-
cated estate at Athens."
Apollos heard in silence, but his face was of
an ashy pallor as he glanced toward Cyril.
"Valerianus speaks to thee," said Crispus at
that moment, and Cyril turned to look into the
cruel face of the haughty Roman.
The second prize is five sestertia," said Va-
lerianus. If thou win but that, thou wilt with
it win the scourge, apd manacles, and thy ham-
mer in the quarries. So run thy best and
remember thou must win the first prize!"

The hot blood flushed the forehead of the
young Jew, but his lips closed tightly, and at
that very moment the summoning trumpet
sounded at the door opening into the arena.
Four ranks of runners marched out, ten men
in each rank, each man's place being decided
by lot, by a number drawn from a box.
The amphitheater was enormous. All around
the oval sandy level of the arena the seats
rose, tier after tier, and from them eighty thou-
sand spectators were looking down in eager ex-
pectation. Cyril hardly saw them, although
the Emperor himself was there, and all the
splendid array of the richest people of Rome
itself, with kings and nobles and chiefs from all
the world tributary to Rome. For one moment
he was thinking and he was listening. He and
Apollos were side by side, in the foremost rank,
and he heard the Greek boy murmur:
"Mother- father-my brethren and my
sisters-if I win not their freedom, I hope
Tallienus will slay me!"
Cyril did not turn to look at him, for he was
thinking :
The first prize or the quarries -I must
win, or I shall not be with Jesus of Nazareth
when he enters Jerusalem."
The trumpet sounded again from near where
the Emperor sat, and the racers were off, all
together. Not one of them but was a good
runner, and there were several smaller prizes;
but the race was little more, after all, than an
occasion for gambling to the dissipated, corrupt,
idle populace of Rome. It was evil, evil, evil,
like all the other games of the Roman circus!
A splendid runner was Apollos, and he shot
ahead with a great bound that called forth
plaudits from the spectators. Close behind
him, quickly, came several others, but before
the runners were a third of the way around the
arena one of these tripped and fell, and another
fell over him.
"They will be scourged!" thought Cyril.
"More than half the rest are behind me now.
But the pace is too fast at the beginning."
Several more were shortly compelled to
slacken their pace and Cyril passed them; but
still, away in the front, with an elastic, spring-
ing step, the tall young Greek kept the lead.
"The Greek will win! growled Valerianus



to Crispus, who sat beside him. The Greek is
twenty paces ahead of thy Galilean. I will
send him to the galleys! "
Only ten paces now," said Crispus, calmly,
after a few minutes. "0 noble Valerianus, it
is the last circuit that tells."
Just then the runners came nearer, and Va-

these two. Until that moment, Cyril had had
no thought but of winning if he could; but
suddenly he cast a swift glance at the face of
Apollos. It was -somewhat pale instead of
flushed, and Cyril saw a look of terror, almost
of agony, in his eyes.
"He is breathing with difficulty," thought


lerianus was silent until they had passed. The
race included one more complete round of the
All are out of the race but those two," mut-
tered the noble Roman. I shall lose half my
fortune if that Jewish boy fails me. What!
See--they are abreast! Bacchus! My Jew
is winning!"
Not yet. There was still a long race before
him, but he and Apollos ran side by side, and
the circus rang with the loud applause of the
Other runners were not far behind, but it
seemed evident that the first prize was between

Cyril, "and I shall beat him! But he and
his family will be slaves forever if I win!"
Cyril was ahead now, and the plaudits rang
out again.
"Thy sestertia are safe," said Crispus to
"I will slay that Greek !" hissed Tallienus.
Cyril heard a gasping cry as Apollos put
forth all his remaining strength, for they were
nearing the goal.
"I can give him his freedom! flashed into
the mind of Cyril. They may slay him or
me. Shall I ? "
Then it was as if he heard certain words,-




buc in truth he only remembered,-words he
had heard the Master say long ago, upon the
mount in Galilee. Cyril could not have told
his thought, but in the next moment he spoke
in Greek to Apollos:
"Win thou, Apollos! Jesus of Nazareth
has bidden me to set thee free! "
Cyril had to slacken his speed, for the Greek
was beginning to falter.
One moment more, and they were over the
line, with Apollos the winner by only half a
How the amphitheater rang with the shouts,
as the two who had distanced all the rest were
led before the Prefect of the games to receive
their prizes! Tallienus was there, and he at
once loudly proclaimed his promise to Apollos,
and his purpose to keep it. Valerianus was
not there; but Crispus stood by the prefect
with a darkening face, and he spoke low to
Cyril in Hebrew as the little bag of gold which
was the second prize was handed to the Jewish
"Thou didst well. There is no fault to be
found with thee. But get thee hence! I have
ordered them to pass thee at the gates. Be-
take thyself to Ostia! and that with speed!
Take any ship that sails this day, no matter
whither bound. If thou art found in Rome at
sunset, thou art at the mercy of Valerianus.
Belt thy prize under thy tunic, that none may
know it is with thee. Nay, speak not again to
me! Go! Go! It is forthylife!"



THE autumnal months were beautiful along
the eastern shore of the Mediterranean; the
people of Joppa said that never before had
their gardens been so lovely or so fruitful. But
as the long weeks went by without any word
from her brother, it seemed to Lois as if there
was no joy in the world.
Ezra the Swordmaker was cheerful whenever
he came to see his daughter, but even he grew
gloomy when the winter followed autumn and
wore away, and he knew not what had become
of his only son. All he could say to Lois was:

"Cyril promised to return in time for the
Passover, and if he is alive he will keep his
The spring returned, and the gardens of
Joppa were one flush of flowers and fruit-blos-
soms, but neither message nor letter came from
Tidings came from Galilee both to Ezra and
to Abigail, and many others also seemed to have
good reasons for believing, that Jesus of Naza-
reth purposed being in Jerusalem at the Pass-
over. At the same time it was known that
the enmity toward him among the high priests
and scribes and Pharisees was becoming em-
Nearer and nearer came the April days set
apart for the great feast, and Lois found her-
self more than ever inclined to go often up to
the roof of Tabitha's house, and gaze out upon
the sea. There were always sails in sight, and
one of them might belong to the ship which
was bringing Cyril home.
One evening of the first week of the Passover
month, Lois was still upon the roof gazing upon
the sea. A gale was blowing, and the waters
were all one toss of white-capped billows.
She was not the only anxious watcher that
night, for even after the shadows deepened so
that the white caps themselves were hardly visi-
ble, a tall, vigorous man was walking to and
fro along the shore. There were others upon
the shore, but he was walking alone.
"It has always been a terrible place for
wrecks," he said. "Fleets have gone down
off the coast of Joppa. But Cyril must be very
near us now. The Master will come to this
Passover, and I pray that my son may meet
him with me."
Ezra could not leave the shore, but Lois gave
up her vigil on the roof. It was so dark that
the ships could not be seen.
That, indeed, was one great peril of the ships,
for they could no longer see each other.
Neither could they be easily steered in such a
storm. Hardly had Lois left the roof before
there was, far out on the water, a sound she
could not hear. It lasted for only a few mo-
ments, and then the gale roared on more loudly
than before.
There had come first a terrible crash. One




of the ships, driven by the fierce wind, was
borne down upon another with all the strength
of the great billow that carried it. Then came
shrieks and cries of men and women; for both
ships were shattered in the collision, and the
sea was quickly dotted with the heads of strug-
gling swimmers.
There were fewer soon, for now and then one
of them seized frantically upon another, so that
both sank.
Cyril was one of the passengers. He had
clung to a piece of plank at the moment when
the vessels came together. He had been stand-
ing at the prow of the foremost ship, peering
out into the gloom.
He was a good swimmer, and had instinc-
tively swum apart from the rest. In only a few
minutes he believed himself to be alone, and he
said aloud:
"Can I land through the surf? "
"Help !" shouted a loud voice near him.
Hast thou a float ?"
Come! said Cyril. "I have one."
Soon a second pair of hands were on the
plank, but it would not have supported the two
men unless both had been strong swimmers.
As it was, two were better than one to propel it
to the land.
"I am Simon," said the newcomer. I am
of Cyrene. Our craft was full of Passover pil-
grims, and of all on board I think I alone am
Cyril gave his own name, and then added:
"After we sailed from Byzantium, I found I
was on a pirate vessel. The pirates captured
three merchant vessels, and our ship was full of
slaves, for all the captives were to be sold in
Africa. They meant to sell me, too. But I
hoped to escape, for they spoke of touching at
"Save thy strength," said Simon. I sailed
from Cyrene in the hope of seeing Jesus, the
prophet of Galilee, at the Passover. I think
yet that I shall see and hear him. There 's a
light! Swim with all thy strength!"
"I know him thou callest the prophet of
Galilee," Cyril exclaimed as he followed
Simon's advice. "He is the King! "
Cyril was swimming his best, and Simon
was a large, powerful man. Their vigorous

strokes sent the plank yet faster through the
Beware of the surf! cried Simon, and that
indeed was their danger as they neared the
Perhaps they could hardly have overcome it,
had no help been near; but the loud, clear voice
of Simon made itself heard through the sound
of the breakers. Then men came hurrying
along the sand, for the Joppa people were used
to wrecks and to rescuing those who came
A rope!" shouted Simon, but even as he
spoke, a long line with a stone at the end of it
came flying across the plank.
Only a slinger could have hurled that,"
thought Cyril, as he caught it;. and themomefit
he and Simon made it fast, the Cyrenian hailed
the shore with, Pull! and the life-line drew
them in.
"Oh, if it were but my son!" exclaimed
Ezra, trying to peer through the darkness.
"Father I am here! "
Loud voices joined in Ezra the Armorer's cry
of gladness and thanksgiving; but some of the
men thanked Jupiter, and Neptune, and Mercu-
rius, and even Isis, as well as Jehovah, the God
of the Jews for, along the coast near Joppa,
there were many men from many lands.
Cyril was soon rested sufficiently to walk, and
he and his father went up the hill together,
into the city. As for Simon, the big and burly
Cyrenian said a hearty farewell to his young
companion, and was then led away in a kind
of triumph by a squad of Greek and Sidonian
sailors, who said that Neptune had made them
a present of him.
Neither the Swordmaker nor his son found
much to say on their way to the house. Nor
was Lois talkative for a while after her joyful
greeting. But, after that, the lamps in Tabitha's
large front room burned out and were filled
again, and a second time burned low, before
any of them tired of hearing the story of Cyril's
adventures, out in the world beyond the sea.
It was long enough before he came to his es-
cape from Ostia, the seaport of Rome, from the
wrath of the disappointed gambler, Valerianus.
"As Crispus bade me," said Cyril, I took
passage on a ship just casting off at the pier.




She was bound for Massilia, in Gaul, and she
made a quick voyage; but before we got there
she was sold to some Phenicians who were go-
ing to the island of Britain, after tin. I knew I
would be safer with them, and so I went. I
worked hard, for she was a trireme and I took
my turn with the rowers to save. money and to
keep the men from thinking I had any."
He told of many places passed on the voy-
age, and then he said :
"So we sailed out, between the pillars of
Hercules, into the great ocean, with the war-
galleys of the Roman general Demetrius -"
"Thou hast seen the further ocean ?" Ezra
demanded. "Solomon's ships, and Hiram's of.
Tyre, went there. Go on! Thou art the bet-
ter fitted to be a servant of the King "
We passed the cape at the end of the world
and sailed away across the sea until we reached
the harbor and town of Londinium, in Britain,"
said Cyril. "But I did not feel safe except
upon the sea, and besides, I had no time to lose.
So I sailed back, in another ship, to Malta.-"'
Oh, where hast thou not been? exclaimed
Lois, gazing up into his face, admiringly. Thou
hast seen the whole world."
Not many Jewish boys had seen so much of
it, certainly; for Cyril went on to tell of his
drifting here and there, until he reached Byzan-
tium and made a last effort to return to Joppa
and Jerusalem.
"I think I should not be here," he said, at
last, "if it had not been for the storm, and for
Simon of Cyrene."
Sleep, now," said his father. On the mor-
row we must all set out for Jerusalem. We
shall be there in good season. Verily, the God
of our fathers, thine own God, has been with
thee through all the way by which he has led
thee, and he has brought thee back to me in
peace! Glory to his name, forever! Amen! "



THREE days after Cyril's arrival at Joppa,
Ezra the Swordmaker stood just outside of the
Jericho gate of Jerusalem, as the sun rose on
the first day of the week.

We must set out at once," said Ezra, "for
the messenger told me that the Master rested
on the Sabbath at Bethany. He will reach the
city to-day."
He is really coming ? asked Lois, looking
earnestly away down the road from Jericho.
"How glad I shall be to see him again, and
hear him speak."
Cyril said nothing, but his eyes were flashing,
and his sunburned, handsome face wore a war-
like expression. He was far taller now, and
far stronger, than when he hurled stones at the
Roman soldier, across the swift torrent of the
Lois eagerly tripped forward along the
shaded highway. Village joined to village so
closely that it all was really a part of Jerusa-
lem, though outside of the gated walls. They
had not walked very long before Cyril re-
This is Bethphage. I must go to the Cave
of Adullam soon, and select a sword."
"The time is at hand," said his father.
" Many swords are ready. This is to be a
week of great events. I think there has been
no other like it."
At that very hour the Master was walking
toward them, along the road from Jericho,
pausing, as he walked, to open the eyes of the
blind and to heal those who were sick. And
on the way he told those with him of the things
that were to come to pass before the sun should
set upon another first day of the week. It was
to be his own day, thenceforward, and all of
them would then remember and would tell one
another how he had talked of these things be-
fore they came to pass.
Ezra and his party had entered the village,
and all the road behind them and all the way
before was full of people, for there were many
who had heard that the prophet of Galilee was
The street will soon be thronged," said
Ezra. They are taking those asses out of the
Two of these animals had been tethered be-
fore a villager's house; one of them was a full-
grown colt. He was a large, fine-looking ani-
mal, such as brought a higher price than did
most horses in the markets of Jerusalem, but


at that moment two men who had come up the
road were untying him.
Cyril! exclaimed Lois. Those are two
of the Twelve two of his disciples !" but be-
fore he could reply, somebody spoke from the
door of the house:
What do ye, loosing the colt ?"
"The Master hath need of him," was the
answer from the man who held the halter.

throng surrounding the Master, these offerings
made a saddle. When mounted the animal
seemed to need no bridle, but turned, and
began to walk toward Jerusalem, carrying
Jesus of Nazareth.
Close pressed the thousands who had already
been following. Every village was adding new
swarms of young and old. From the now open
gates of Jerusalem poured out increasing multi-


Low bowed the speaker in the doorway, and
the colt was taken.
"Come!" whispered Lois earnestly to Cyril.
"We will follow them."
But Cyril was stepping forward toward one
of the disciples, and had forgotten all else in
the excitement of the moment. Off came his
robe,- a new abba he had bought in Jerusa-
lem the previous evening,- and he threw it
over the back of the colt. Ezra and others did
the same; and when, not many minutes later,
the obedient animal was led through the

tudes. Slowly stepped the colt that required no
guiding; and on the highest point of the road, as
it went over the ridge of the Mount of Olives,
the animal stood still, while his rider gazed long
and wistfully at the splendors of the sunlit city.
"He is about to ride in," thought Cyril.
" He will soon be crowned there, and he will
reign over all the world. Even over great
Rome! I wish I dared ask him, or one of the
Twelve-" But at that moment he felt the
hand of Lois on his arm, and her voice was
hushed and awed as she murmured in his ear:



Cyril! He is weeping."
Then he and all could hear the Master ad-
dressing the city in loud and earnest lamenta-
tions, as if foretelling some great woe that was
shortly to come upon it. They heard, but they
did not understand; and neither did Cyril, for
he said to himself:
Perhaps it is because there will be terrible
fighting if the city should be taken. I expected
On moved the vast procession, and soon the
feet of the colt did not touch the earth, be-
cause of the many abbas that were spread be-
fore him as he walked; and all the way was
spread with fresh-leaved branches of palm-trees.
Palms,:too, were carried by those in advance
and those who followed, and chorus after chorus
of praise to God, of thanksgiving, and even of
triumphant expectation of the new kingdom,
arose like the songs and responses in the Tem-
ple in a day of national rejoicing. Among
them all there was one in which Cyril joined
most heartily:
"Blessed be the King that cometh in the
name of Jehovah! Peace in heaven, and glory
in the highest! "
It meant to him all that he had so long
been dreaming; but he saw that the face of his
father was clouded. He heard Ezra mutter:
The Master said that. the men who would
take Jerusalem would not leave one stone upon
another. Who then shall rebuild that he may
reign there ? I fear that there are dark days
coming for Israel."
Many, even of the Pharisees, carried away
by the torrent of the Nazarene's popularity, had
gone out to meet him. It was from some of
these that words of criticism came. They said
to him, on the way, as they listened to the
glad hosannas:
"Rabbi, rebuke thy disciples."
"I tell you," he replied, that, if these should
hold their peace, the stones would immediately
cry out."
Louder and more exultingly rang the shouts
of praise to God, and of honor to the Son of
David," the prophet who had at last come.
The whole city seemed to be pouring out to meet
him. On, on, on he rode, preceded and fol-
lowed by the enthusiastic multitude through the

gates and the city streets to the very Temple it-
Once more the outer court had been turned
'into a general market-place, but the Prophet of
Galilee entered it now. He had no need to
drive forth any of the dealers; his order for its
cleansing was obeyed in haste.
"It is written," he said, "that my house
shall be called a house of prayer; but ye have
made it a den of thieves."
It was of no use for Cyril to try to keep close
by his King. Not only were the disciples there,
but there came continually delegations of the
most important men of the city. Still; as Cyril
noticed, however great was the tumult and the
enthusiasm, there was nothing hostile in it; no-
thing that at all disturbed the iron composure
of the Roman guards stationed in and about
the Temple.
Lois returned to the house of a friend of
Tabitha, where she and Abigail were waiting
for her; but Ezra and his son walked away to-
gether, toward the Pool of Siloam.
Until the close of the day, Jesus of Nazareth
continued in the Temple, and all that he said
or did was peaceful at the same time that he
both defied and denounced the Chief Priests and
the scribes and the Pharisees. When evening
drew near, and before the gates were shut, he
and the Twelve returned to Bethany.
It was not strange that the Roman governor,
Pontius, "the spearman," turned away in care-
less indifference when reports came to him of
what appeared a mere difference of opinion
among the Jewish rabbis concerning some of
their curious doctrines- of which he knew
nothing whatever.



THE whole city was moved when the shout-
ing multitude marched up the Jericho road to
Jerusalem, announcing the arrival of the great
prophet of Nazareth. His bitterest enemies un-
derstood that at that hour they were powerless
against him. The hearts and hopes of all the
people were set upon him, and year after year
his works had become better known. All over



the land, in cities and towns and hamlets, were
large numbers of men and women whom he had
helped to new health and life, while uncounted
thousands had witnessed his good works and
listened to his teachings.
But now, at last, the very summit of his
power and popularity seemed to be reached,
and from this time onward there seemed to his
enemies to be a waning of public favor.
On the second day of the week, our Mon-
day, the Master came in again from Bethany,
and among those who met him before he
reached the city were Ezra and Cyril, but there
was now no throng, for his return had not been
announced beforehand.
They went with him to the Temple. The
directions he had given the previous day, for
the clearing of the outer court, had been
obeyed. The buyers and sellers with their mer-
chandise had been expelled. The Court of
the Heathen was once more a house of prayer
for all nations. Here the Master sat down and
taught, and the blind and the lame came to
him and he healed them- but this was not
at all what a great many of his following or
even the patriotic multitude had led themselves
to expect.
They came and lingered around him, and
went away and came again. They heard what
he said and they saw what he did, but even
his denunciations of the Pharisees and Scribes
puzzled them. Were not the priests still to offi-
ciate in the Temple, after the Messiah should
come to rule the world? What, too, were
those strange things that were said about the
destruction of Jerusalem and of the Temple
itself ?
Darker and darker grew their difficulties from
hour to hour. It greatly puzzled Cyril, who
was losing something of faith and of enthu-
siasm. It was not so with Ezra, perhaps, be-
cause he was older and wiser; but Cyril noticed
that his father was all the while in deep thought,
and, at the close of that day, as they walked
homeward, he said:
My son, stay thou here, in the city. I go
to the Cave, to see some of our friends, and I
return at once. I will get thee a sword. I will
not bring the King's sword, now, but thou and
I may have need of weapons."

"Has the Master said anything ? asked
One of the Twelve told me," replied Ezra,
"that he said, If I am lifted up, I will draw
all men unto me,' but what he meant, I know
not. Of this I am.sure, that the God of Israel
will tell him when to act and what to do."
"The time is at hand, then ? persisted Cyril.
"This, too, I do not understand," said his
father. "He hath said that in his battle for
the kingdom he must be slain, and the third
day rise again. It is a deep saying, but I have
seen him bring the dead to life. Whatever is
to come must come."
So Ezra went away, and Cyril departed to
have a talk with Lois, who was not at all
troubled as were her father and brother. She
had now to repeat to her brother something she
had already told Abigail. .
Didst thou notice," she had said, when
we were in the Court of the Women, that the
Master wore the abba we made in Capernaum,
and the seamless vesture ? I did, but I saw it
upon him first when he was riding in on the
Abigail had not failed to see, and she re-
"It was not our gift, Lois. ,I now know
that the wife of Chusa, Herod's steward, and
the other women, have continually ministered
unto him from their own property."
Lois was silent, for she strongly felt that her
own small hands had worked upon that abba,
and she had been proud to see the Master
wearing it.
There were many stories told, some of them
very beautiful, of the Master's kindness to women
and children, and Lois had treasured them all.
Cyril was now thinking of what his father
had said to him, for Ezra was not only an old,
experienced soldier but a Jew. Jesus will be
compelled to wait," Ezra had said. "He can-
not attempt anything until after the Passover,
and then not until after the Sabbath. Our
best men would not rally on the feast-days nor
on a Sabbath."
Cyril, therefore, was waiting wearily and im-
patiently. The Passover was. not to be eaten
until the fifth day of the week, or Thursday, at
night. During the fourth day, nearly all day



long, Jesus continued in the Temple, teaching.
It seemed to some who heard him that his
words were more wonderful than ever before.
In the morning hour, as he sat in the Court
of the Women, opposite the treasury chests,
into which many who cai~e were casting their
voluntary contributions, he had said of one
poor woman, who gave only two small mites,
that she had given more than all the rest. It
was so hard to understand a great many of the
things he said that Cyril had pressed nearer
through the throng. Lois had followed until
she and her brother were side by side.
He was now speaking again, and his voice
seemed to fill the open spaces of the temple
and to find its way to the ears of all the crowds
that filled the porches and the courts. The
voice was so powerful, so full of pathos and
of pleading, that all other sounds were hushed.
Could he be in pain ?-in suffering? He cer-
tainly was not now speaking to the people, for
he was looking upward.
"Lois -" said Cyril, but her hand on his
arm silenced him, and she was gazing upon the
face of the Master.
Now is my soul troubled," they heard him
cry out. "And what shall I say? Father,
save me from this hour: but for this cause
came I unto this hour. Father, glorify thy
All through the Temple sounded the strange
prayer of the Prophet of Galilee, and the peo-
ple held their breath, for a moment. Then
came, through the corridor and porch and
court, an utterance so wonderful that many
cowered in sudden terror, exclaiming that it
thundered, while those who were nearer said
to one another: "An angel spoke to him!"
for the words of the sound could both be heard
and recorded: "I have both glorified it, and
will glorify it again."
This voice came not because of me, but for
your sakes," said Jesus; but, as he talked on,
Cyril crept silently away, and so did many
others. He had a frightened feeling that he
could not bear to hear any more.
Something great and terrible is surely com-

ing," he said to himself, "when the angels of
God speak to us. Father must know."
It was not until evening that Ezra and Cyril
met, according to their appointment, near the
Pool of Siloam. Cyril had many things to tell,
and his father heard him in silence; but, at the
end of it all, he said:
I reached the city hours ago, and I have
been with the disciples. We must watch now.
Herod has at last determined to slay him; so
have the High Priests. They are the rulers of
the people "
"I am not with them!" sprang to the lips
of Cyril. I am not with the priests and rab-
bis. I am with the Christ, the King! "
Ezra rose to his feet.
"I also am with him," he answered; "but
his enemies follow him closely."
They will find out where he is to eat the
Passover," said Cyril. "Then they can seize
him and the Twelve. He must have chosen
the place days ago, and many must know it."
"So I thought," replied Ezra;. "but the
Twelve said not so. Not until to-morrow will
they or anybody else know where the Passover
is to be eaten by Jesus of Nazareth. Only the
Twelve will know even then, lest he should be
betrayed to those who seek his life. They
know, as well as we do, that after the Feast
and the Sabbath he will be free to act."
So reasoned Ezra and his son, and so had
reasoned and plotted the enemies of Jesus.
"We will eat our own Passover," said Ezra,
finally, and then we will go out and watch.
I gave my own sword to Peter. He asked for
it-he had none. The sword I had meant
for thee I gave to Andrew. They will all the
while be with him. We can go unarmed now;
but the servants of the King should be ready
with shield and blade upon the first day of the
week. The Passover lamb must be slain, and
after that he will enter into his kingdom."
So spoke the old swordmaker, and a great
longing arose in Cyril's soul.
We must wait," he said; "but I shall be
ready to march with him when he calls for me,
on the first day of the week."

(To be continued.)




DROP a little ink on a sheet of white paper. Fold the
sheet in the center and press the ink spots together with
the fingers. All of the following pictures were made in
this manner- none of them having been touched with a
pen or brush.
A great deal of practice only shows that the Gobolink,
as his name implies, is a veritable goblin of the ink-
bottle. It is hardly to be expected that the animals and
birds of prey referred to under more or less familiar
names in the accompanying rhymes will be strikingly
correct as to anatomy. In fact, the most unexpected
and startling results will often occur results grotesque-
ly and strangely beautiful, well worthy of preservation.

Now, some one has said, in a moment of spleen,
We cannot make pictures of what we 've not seen;
But such an assertion deserves only scorn,
For the shape of the Gobolink never was born.
He comes like the marvelous shades of our dreams,
When one has been supping on salads and creams,
And curious changes of vision take place-
The horse may appear with an elephant face-
The goat with a cane, and the goose with a hat -
Six legs on the dog, and two tails on the cat;
We never can tell, though we 're sorely perplexed,
What shape will be shown us, or what will come next;
And these are the things that our Gobolinks do-
Dear friends, and dear children, we give them to you.

Oh, it's very plain to see that he 's the hero
of the day,
This jolly little Major of the Drum.

THERE was an old man of high feather,
Who said, "I can't really tell whether
I 'm a man or a mouse,
Or the roof of a house,
So much may depend on the weather."

A JOLLY little Major of the Drum,
Behind him all the shadow people come,
As he bravely leads the way
For the Gobolink array
With a bearing most important, and his uni-
form so gay;



Two funny old three-legged gnomes
Came out of their shadowy domes:
They made their salute
With a hand and a foot,
And then hurried back to their homes.

A SOMETHING met a Something
In the mists of Shadowland.
They ran against each other,
And came quickly to a stand.
"And who are you?" said Something One.
And Something Two, said he,
"That 's just the very question that
At once occurred to me."

"f V,


A PILLOW-CASE party the Gobolinks gave,
And it proved a right merry carouse:
But I'm sure you 'd have laughed at their
attitudes grave
As they made their ridiculous bows.


A TERRIBLE creature of Ink-bottle Land,
A Jack-o'-my-goblin is he.
The sea-urchins made him to place on the
And frighten the monsters that dwell on the-
They took a sea-pumpkin and carved it by
And lighted it up in their glee
With a phosphorus fish from the sea;
Now all the day long on the shore doth he
While Land-loodles terrified flee,
Oh, yes,
The terrified Land-loodles flee.





YT was ye knight of ye oldenne tyme
Dyd love ye beauteous dayme;
Her forme was slym, her fayce was faire,
Esmonda was her nayme.
Butte wo untoe ye lover true;
For hys sterne father sayde,
"My sonne shalle wedde ane ladye proud,
An notte ye countries madee"

Harde bye untoe ye castle dwelt
An dayme of high degree;
I wot she was naye slym nor faire,
Butte wealthie aye was she.
She hadde bayth lande an golde, forsooth,
An palace rych beesyde.
Then spayke Sir Gundiebaye hys syre,
"Thys dayme shalle bee yr bryde."

One daye, when young Sir Gundiebaye
Wente out toe hont ye deere,
Hee spyde hys gentyl ladye-love
Her swyne a-tending neare.
Her cheekes were lyke ye cherryes redde,
Her haire was goulden-browne; love her ap-
She wore uponne her gentyl hedde pearance.
An rose turned uppe-syde-dowvne!

" hayste thee, love," cried Gundiebaye,
Ynne lowe butte earnest tone;
"Mye syre ys rydeyng fast beehynde,
An wee muste soone bee gone;
Hys noblemen ryde at hys heel,
Thy ryval at hys toe;
0 hayste thee, hayste thee, whyle wee maye-
Hee wyll notte see us goe."

Then out an blusht ye mayden gaye,
An sayde, wyth courtesie lowe,
"Sin that ye aske, Sir Gundiebaye,
I cannot well saye noe."

Tellyth ofye

Alsoe of hys

An of hys
syre's vowe.

Tellyng ofye
syre hys choice.

suggesteth an

Her acquies-



They flee
right speedilie.

Butte are

Syne, hee has ta'en her on hys steede,
An thro' th' woodes they flye,
Butte notte before ye courtlie dayme
Their course hadde tyme toe spye.

Nowe hayste ye, hayste ye, noble Sir!
yr sonne has fledde, I ween,
Wyth ane poore countries damsel, when
Hee might have hadde a queene."
An betrayed. Ye word ys spayke, ye bugles blowne,
Toe boote an horse away!
An honted. They muste bring back, ere sette of sunne
Ye young Sir Gundiebaye.

When lo!-a wonder come toe pass!
Ye swyne left bye ye waye,
Wroth at their mistress' leeve, throng'd round
The syre of Gundiebaye.
Regardless of hys sterne-voict "Scat!"
An mishappe An of hys noble blood,
befalleth ye They vext hys horse, untyl hee threw
Hym cleene off in ye mudde!

Wherat soe wrathy was ye syre
Hee should soe meenelie fare,
Hys princely dignitie was shockt
Welnye beyond repayre.
Hys difficul- Fayne wood hee have dyslodg'd hys feete,
ties adhere toe Fayne changed hys garments wette,
hy. Still dyd hee styck -for aught I noe
Hee maye bee stuck there yet!

Howe faires yt wyth ye knight an dayme
Aye bolde that fledde that daye?
Tellyng ofye
lover and hys Together doe they safely byde
made. Yn a havenne bye ye waye.
Ye guests are gone, ye vows be sayde,
Ye priest has ta'en hys fee,
And wysh- Ye bryde an groom, O maye they live
yng. them joy. Full long an happilie!

\ U

.I.-.. I -





JOSEPH FRANCIS was born ninety-five years
ago in the city of Boston. He died three years
ago near Cooperstown, New York, an aged
man, one who had done much for the cause
of humanity in the long period of his life.
I wonder how many of the readers of ST.
NICHOLAS know who Joseph Francis was, what
he did to become one of the noblest characters
in modern history, what it is that makes him
one of the famous Americans of the century ?
In the summer of 1893 at the Columbian Ex-
position, I had occasion, when in the great Gov-
ernment Building, to look up some models of
inventions by Mr. Francis, for he was one of the
most remarkable inventors of America. I asked
one of the Columbian guards-a body of clear-
headed young men for the most part, college
students, many of them -I asked him where
I could find the Francis exhibit. The guard
did not know who Mr. Francis was or what he
had done for the world. I asked another and
another and yet another, in various parts of the
building, and with the same unsatisfactory re-
sults. Even middle-aged persons who were in
charge of departments in various parts of the
Government Building had never heard of him.
Joseph Francis was the inventor of the life-
car for saving people from shipwreck, was the
founder of the Life Saving Service of the United
States and other nations, a service which has
been the means of rescuing thousands of men
and women who have faced death in one of
its most terrible forms- and was the inventor
of over a score of life-saving or life-protecting
appliances. Others who have been interested
in the same line of work have added to his
inventions, and have perfected and improved
appliances for the saving of human life; but

to this man alone belongs the honor-an honor
which his own nation did not accord until after
he received noble recognition in foreign lands -
of being, as he loved to call himself," The
Father and Founder of the Life Saving Ser-
vice of the United States."
When a small boy, he lived on the sea-coast
of Massachusetts; and it must have been that
he had an unusually powerful mind for a little
boy, and a remarkably keen appreciation of the
dangers of the sea, for it was a singularly heroic
resolve in one so very young to give up his life to
saving the lives of others. At twelve years of age
he had made a life-boat, the first real life-boat
for the rescue of shipwrecked people, so it is be-
lieved, in the history of the world. He made it
as most coast rowboats are made, save that he
adjusted a lot of floats to the interior of the
bow and stern in such a way as to give it great
And so, in boyhood, he had begun the work
with which he was closely associated for over
three quarters of a century, a work whose results
have entitled him to a monument as splendid as
.any ever erected to the memory of a benefactor
of the race.
The boat which he made was a rude, rough
affair, but proved its seaworthiness on its first
trial. Even when full of water, it would safely
support four grown men, the buoyancy of the
floats making it impossible to sink the boat by
any ordinary means.
The boy was poor; he had neither father nor
mother; he had no powerful friends; he had no
capital but his health and his brains; and yet
he had something better than wealth, better
than powerful friends, better than all that proud
governments could bestow: he had a purpose.

-------- --


From the day that on the bleak Massachusetts
coasts he made with his own hands that crude,
life-saving boat until he died, honored by the
nations of the world as few civilians were ever
honored, it was his one splendid, over-master-
ing purpose to do good to humanity.
The boy who early adopts a resolution to be
good for something in the world has already
accomplished one of the most important acts
of his life.
This boy, the story of whose life has been
strangely interesting to me, was placed among
most discouraging sur-
roundings. He had no
opportunity of gaining
an education; there
were far fewer chances
of this kind at the be-
ginning of the century
than at its close. But
he sought what employ- "
ment there was, study-
ing all that he possibly
could meanwhile, and
at last secured a place
as a page in the legis-
lature of the State of
Massachusetts -one of
the first boys in America
to hold such a posi-
tion. Hepassedthrough :;
all the various stages
of boy-life, not unlike
many boys in some
things, but unlike many
in that he steadfastly JOSEPH
clung to his main pur-
pose. The cruel sea was near him night and
day. It was constantly teaching him new les-
sons of its terrible strength.
When the war of 1812 between the United
States and Great Britain was in progress there
were many disasters along the Atlantic coast.
Though the lad was an American in every
fiber, interested in the outcome of the struggle
between the two nations, and marching to the
front himself with one regiment, he never lost
interest in the rescue of the shipwrecked nor
faltered in his resolve to assist that noble
work. All the time he was planning how

he might perfect some sort of a boat which
would enable those on shore to reach those in
the storm ard bring them safely to land. He
was a born inventor. The sea was his field,
human lives in peril his opportunity.
And so he kept on making all sorts of boats
-now a light and fast rowboat for which, in
1819, he received "honorable recognition as an
inventor" at a fair held in the Massachusetts
Mechanics' Institute in Boston; now an im-
proved wooden life-boat which long afterward,
in the year- 1840, rescued the passengers and
crew of the British bark
Belinda," disabled in
mid-ocean, a passing
vessel having on board
the rude but seaworthy
boat which the boy had
built in Ix86-twenty-
four years earlier.
As he grew older he
began still more serious
S planning. It seems
strange to think of a
man who has but lately
: died and yet who was
Soldering i8i6 than many
of the present readers
has been hard for me
in meeting the subject
of this sketch to realize
S" that I was talking with
:: a man who was thirteen
years old when Na-
RANCIS, tpoleon was dominating
Europe, and who had
reached manhood before Napoleon ended his
life's tragedy on the island of St. Helena. And
when General Lafayette, that noble friend of
America, laid the cornerstone of the Bunker
Hill monument, young Francis was several
years over twenty-one, as he proudly marched
along in the procession which formed one of the
features of that occasion.
A number of wealthy gentlemen in New
York city founded the New York Boat Club
in 1830; and for them Mr. Francis built the
first yacht ever constructed in America. He
was able, you see, to turn his hand to almost



anything which had to do with sailing on
the sea. Some Canadian gentlemen wanted a
racing rowboat to beat the boat of some of
their friends from England who were coming
over from the motherland to give them battle
at Quebec. Mr. Francis was called upon to
build the boat. It was of mahogany, brass
fastened, and it weighed only sixty pounds, a
remarkably light racing-boat for that day. It
was four-oared and was thirty feet long. They
called it the "Eagle," and it well deserved its
name, for it won the race against the crack
boats of the English. It was the first rowboat
for racing purposes ever built in America.
But such work as this, successful as it was,
was only what we might call amusement-there
was far more serious work to perform. From
1830 to 1840 the young man was spending all
his spare time and money at work upon a boat
which should not only save lives but which
could not be crushed on the rocks when the
waves were hurling themselves shoreward. His
cork-lined boats were successful, and were giv-
ing him a world-wide fame as an inventor and
philanthropist; but he felt that unless he could
invent a boat of some other material than wood
his object was but half attained.
He resolved to try iron. Those of his friends
who knew oft his step looked upon him- as
many an inventor is looked upon in our own
day- as little less than a lunatic. Iron for a
boat? Why, it would take such a vast amount
of wood to float the iron that it would be im-
possible to propel the boat to say nothing of
having it breast the waves of a furious gale and
go out through the storm to a wrecked ship!
The idea, they said, was simply preposterous.
The young man acknowledged the apparent
force of the argument, but he believed there
was a way out of the difficulty. He started in
the path alone. He found many cruel and dis-
heartening difficulties in the way, but he bravely
met all trouble, and he nobly maintained his
high purpose, and won at last a magnificent vic-
tory, not only for himself but for all mankind.
In his later years Mr. Francis loved to tell
of the trials of that critical time. Amid his later
honors he never forgot the days when at one
moment he seemed so near to success and at
another so near to the saddest of failures.

It was now the year 1841. He had taken
his family-for he was married--t a country
place where they could live more cheaply than in
the city. He had the use of a room in a house
on Anthony street, in the city of New York, in
which to carry on the work of his inventions, by
the favor of Myndert Van Shoick, a gentleman
who was much interested in the outcome of the
matter. Here, shut in from all the world, in
sore poverty, he worked for twelve months, a
long, discouraging, weary year. The end to be
gained was to make iron float on water, sone-
thing which his best friends thought the dream
of a lunatic. Day by day and night by night
he worked ceaselessly. He denied himself all
luxuries, all comforts. He met with failure after
He found himself one day at the close of
the year reduced to actual want-and his
object not attained. He had but a pittance in
his pocket. He was hungry, but he needed
one more piece of iron to make one last su-
preme effort. He went out to a junk-shop with
his last twenty-five cents. He bought his piece
of iron for thirteen cents. With the rest of the
money he bought bread and molasses. All
that night he worked. In the morning he
found that the rats had stolen the piece of
bread which he had saved for his breakfast, but
the labor of the night had brought victory. He
had solved the problem! He had conquered
in the fiercest battle of his life. He had
achieved the success he sought, and this vic-
tory meant the saving of the lives of many thou-
sands of his fellow-men.
The corrugation of iron, forming ridges in
lines along the sides of the boat, had been
invented. By this he was enabled to make the
iron float, for he could bend it and shape it to
the curved form of a boat, and the bendings or
ridges in the sides took the place of all stays,
supports, ribs, and timbers, furnishing in them-
selves the support and strength, while nothing
was added to the weight. The metal was put
under great pressure to do this, but it stayed in
place, and the victory was won.
He had been planning for several years for a
life-car, a closed vessel or covered boat, which
could be sent out to a stranded vessel on a
rope and pulled back and forth. It was to




carry two or three people. He could not see
his way clear to make this of wood; but now
the iron problem was solved, he could carry
out all his plans,
The car was built according to the plan
made by him, an inclosed, torpedo-like affair,
and along in the terrible winter of 1849-50, it
was placed in the care of some untrained fisher-
men on the New Jersey coast, at Squan Beach.
An English ship, the "Ayrshire," was wrecked
here, one day, in the midst of a blinding storm.
The men on the beach could do nothing with
their ordinary boats. The life-car was brought
out. A small cannon, or mortar, was loaded
with a piece of snMooth iron, several inches long,
attached to a pile of cord. This was shot out
over the spars of the ship. The people on
board hauled in the cord and drew along through
the surf a stronger rope. This was fastened to
the mast and the life-car was swung from the
beach, with the rope running through the two
rings at each end, and pulled out to the vessel.
There wer 201 people on board, and all but
one of the number were saved.
The story of their rescue went round the
world. All that had been said in praise of
the inventor's powers was now justified. All
Europe was interested. He was recognized by
the nations of the world as one who had done
a marvelous work for humanity- who had, as
some one said, robbed the ocean-voyage of its
The making of these boats followed, but the
original boat Mr. Francis preserved. Its home
is now in the National Museum at Washington.
It has been sent to many places for exhibition,
to London among others, and it was an inter-
esting feature of the Life-Saving Exhibit of the
Government at the World's Fair.
This was the crowning point in the earlier
career of the inventor. He had in the inven-
tion of this corrugating process solved many
other problems. He found many purposes to
which the corrugated iron could be put. By
its aid he invented the portable steamship.
This was a ship which could be transported
overland and set up on the shores of an inland
sea or lake. By using this device Russia was
enabled to navigate the Aral Sea, and open up
the way to still more complete conquest of

Asiatic territory. Since the days of that won-
derful maritime leader, Peter the Great, Rus-
sia had been seeking to enlarge her ocean-coast
borders, and successfully; but it was quite
another thing to navigate an inland sea. The
Russian Czar had heard of Mr. Francis and his
inventions, and learned that he had been able
to make by means of his corrugated iron a ship
which could be carried in sections. A boat
was built to order for the Russian government
by Mr. Francis, and it was transported overland
from Liverpool to St. Petersburg, and then on
to the sea of Aral. For much of the distance
in Russia the boxed sections were carried on
the backs of serfs. The parts were put together
on the shores of this great inland sea, and a new
question of conquest was solved. The shore-
line of the Aral was surveyed, forts were built,
and, later, a factory for the construction of these
vessels was built on the Volga, Mr. Francis send-
ing out some of his own workmen from his fac-
tory at Greenpoint, New York.
In 1855 Mr. Francis went to Europe. He
introduced his inventions at many courts. He
remained abroad about twelve years, and
made many warm friends in many lands by his
modest, unassuming frankness and his habitual
courtesy. And he received great honors at the
courts of kings.
I shall not soon forget the stories he told of
the events witnessed in these European capi-
tals; they were all so interesting, and he was
so wholly frank and natural in their narra-
tion. He was long at the court of the Czar, a
sovereign who was deeply interested in the
work of the inventor. When Mr. Francis went
to Europe he had letters of introduction from
many prominent Americans. In St. Petersburg
he called upon the American minister. Here,
as he told me laughingly, he forgot all about
his letters of introduction, one of which was
from the President of the United States and
another from the Secretary of State, and merely
told some of the officials connected with the
American Legation that he wished to meet the
"What!" the official ejaculated in amaze-
ment. "Meet the Czar? Impossible, man! Do
you realize what you are asking-an introduc-
tion to the Czar of Russia? Why, it would





take you a month to get an introduction to the
Grand Duke, to say nothing about getting into
the presence of the Czar! "
Mr. Francis went away, and, with true


American independence, called at the palace
of the Grand Duke. He sent in his plain
visiting or business card. He had not long to
wait. The attendant ushered him into a mag-
nificent salon in the
ducal palace. From
the further side of the
splendid room," said
the old gentleman to
me as he related the
story, his eyes glowing
with the recollection
of the triumph of the
hour, "appeared the
Grand Duke Constan-
tine, one of America's
truest friends; and,
both of his hands out-
stretched, he took both
of mine in his as he
MADE OF WOOD, AND LINED reached me."
1817, reached me.


1896.] JOSEPH FRANCIS. 925
The Grand Duke asked what could he do And this was his introduction to Alexander
for Mr. Francis, the man of whom they had II., a ruler who never forgot this gentle,
heard so much, whose life-saving service was modest American, and who, through long
even then of such value to Russia's sea-coast, years, owned him as a cherished friend.
A day or two after-
E F E -ward Mr. Francis
strolled into the office
.._: _.___________._ iof the American Le-
gation. I doubt not
there was a merry
S twinkle in his eye, for
no man loved a quiet

and whose inventions promised so much for
Russia-what could they do? Mr. Francis
said that he would like to meet the Czar.
Certainly; the Grand Duke would make an
appointment with him to dine in a day or two
with the Czar at the palace.

The official to whom Mr. Francis had ex-
pressed his desire to meet the Czar spoke up
jokingly: "Well, how are you coming on in
your efforts to meet the Czar?"
"I have seen him."
"What! with doubt in face and voice, you

r .-7 7 -'- ... .



have seen the Czar? How did you see him,
pray tell ? "
"I dined with him yesterday," was the sim-
ple answer.
And it was not the last time he was enter-
tained at the imperial palace.
He had been received one day by the Czar at
dinner. The Czar was fond of witnessing ex-
periments with new inventions, and Mr. Francis
was asked out into a room opening from a con-
servatory where an inventor with some new-


fangled force-pump was going to give an
exhibition. After they had seen the pump, the
Czar took hold of the nozzle of the pipe and
turned it in the direction of the ladies of the
court, who were in the conservatory. Winking
to Mr. Francis, the Czar, in mischief, gave them
a slight sprinkling, begging pardon afterward
for his awkwardness.
The Czar not only vouchsafed his friend-

ship, but he conferred knighthood upon the
Mr. Francis was warmly received at the
courts of the continent. One day when he was
at the Austrian court, an exhibition of some
of his inventions was being made before the
Emperor, whose name, Francis Joseph, was the
inventor's name reversed.
There was a large crowd of the nobility and
subjects of the Emperor assembled on the banks
of the Danube. Some of the workmen did not
do their parts as handily as Mr. Francis wished,
so, seizing a rope, he began pulling on it. In
doing this he swung his arm around unexpect-
edly and knocked the Emperor down, flat on his
back. The subjects were aghast at the sight,
even though it was an accident, but all the in-
ventor could do was to apologize.
In France he was warmly received by Napo-
leon III. Together on the banks of the Seine
one day in February, 1856, they witnessed many
maneuvers by the French troops which showed
the usefulness of the inventions of Mr. Francis.
Among them was the use by the soldiery of the
army pontoon-wagons. These wagons were so
made that they could be driven directly into the
water, and their buoyancy would float them, in
perfect safety.
Napoleon III. presented to Mr. Francis a
beautiful diamond-mounted snuff-box in recog-
nition of his services.
And so it was all over Europe. Wherever he
went he received honors. A gold medal was
given to him by Ferdinand II., King of the Two
Sicilies; a silver medal was voted to him by the
Imperial International Shipwreck Society of
France, composed of the crowned heads of Eu-
rope, and he was also elected a "benefactor"
of the society.
There is a saying, which many have magni-
fied into a proverb, that "Republics are ungrate-
ful." It was certainly shown in Mr. Francis's
case that, whether ungrateful or not, his own
country was assuredly negligent; for it was not
until long after the Old World had given him
such signal honors that the United States,
through Congress, paid the aged man the trib-
ute which was his due.
In 1887 he received the unusual honor of the
thanks of Congress. In i888 a gold medal was




voted for his services to mankind, and on April
12, 1890, in the historic Blue Room of the White
House, at Washington, this beautiful medal,
the most costly one ever bestowed by the


Government of the United States upon an
American citizen, was formally presented to
Mr. Francis by President Harrison. Mr. Har-
rison referred to the medal as the tribute of a
grateful country to a citizen who had rendered
conspicuous service to mankind, and in his
address said:
The tributes you have received from foreign.
countries to the value of your life-saving appli-
ances are now tardily but generously and fit-
tingly confirmed and crowned by this testimonial
from your own. It was not enough that the
savage wrecker should be driven from the coast
-for the arm of the sympathizing watcher
who had taken his place was still shortened,
and impotent to save. You have given it power
-you have made it possible for the shore to
send succor to the ship. You have invented and
suggested appliances that have saved many
thousands of human lives. Not many of these
have been able to know or to thank the man
who saved them: but the nation to-day voices
the gratitude of these and many thousands more
who will owe their deliverance to you. In the
name of the American Congress and the Ameri-
can people I now place this medal of honor in
your hand."
The medal is of large size. It cost $6,000. It
was designed by the well-known sculptor Augus-
tus St. Gaudens. A portrait bust of Mr. Fran-
cis, in relief, fills the center, and is surrounded
by thirty-eight diamonds. This is the inscription:


The reverse shows a ship in distress with the
rescuers at work.
On one of the early days of April, 1892, an
added honor was awarded to Mr. Francis, one
but seldom vouchsafed-an introduction, by
unanimous consent, to the United States Senate
in session.
One beautiful summer day, when on the way
to the home where Mr. Francis lived, I met
him a mile or more distant from his house.
He would not consent to ride, but, ninety and
one that he was, set a pace for me that was
anything but slow. He laughingly said, after
we had gone a half-mile or so, at a good brisk
pace, that he would take a car if I was tired!

---r . .. . ,----


Once before when I had met him, late one
autumn evening, with a letter of introduction to
him, he surprised me not a little by-reading the
letter in the dusk without any spectacles, laugh-




ing as he remarked that he wore spectacles un-
til he came near losing his eyesight, and then
threw them out of the window-some forty
years before and had n't had any use for
them since.
He was fond of children, and with one little
girl, Lulu Rhodes, at whose house he lived, he
was a constant correspondent whenever they
were separated. He made for her a scrap-book
which contained interesting material in regard
to his life, and I have found this book useful
in supplementing other material in the prepa-
ration of this article.
This was no ordinary man. Without many
graces of speech, he could yet express himself
clearly, forcibly, neatly. With none of the polish
of the man of the world, he was ever an example
of native politeness. With full respect for au-

thority, wherever he found it, he was always a
firm advocate of the liberty of America. With-
out a trace of arrogance, or undue pride, he was
yet dignified and self-possessed. With tolerance
for the opinions of others, he yet had an indom-
itable will which would yield to nothing when
he believed himself in the right. I found him,
what all those who had been more intimately
acquainted with him found him, a singularly
modest man, gentleness itself, and yet a lion in
the cause of justice. He believed that others
had sought to usurp his place, and he battled
with unremitting earnestness, through the last
quarter of a century of his life, for that which
at last came to him -justice.
While I knew him he was a sweet-faced, gen-
tle old man, in whom shone forth the rare
elements of a pure and noble life.

-- .-c .
- _.-. --
.. : O- .'... ^
j ,gjliz'e "fi?^ .-i:.~
^. r-^ .';i ^.^^^ta^ ^ /aI





[Begun in the January number.]



TOM and Mr. Brown stared at each other for
some moments in speechless astonishment; then
the latter gasped:
"Wh- where has he gone ?-what has be-
come of him ? "
The boy shook his head.
I give it up. He 's a wonderful man."
I should say he was. Why, when he was
balancing himself on that flagstaff I expected
to see him fall and break every bone in his
"So did I. But I don't believe he can be
Well, it begins to look so. But where is
Up there, somewhere; you know he said
we could follow him if we had courage enough."
Mr. Brown coughed nervously.
Oh, I have courage enough, so far as that
goes," he said, "but but do you think it
would be worth while ? "
I 'd like to know what has become of Mr.
Sindbad," said Tom.
Oh, yes, so should I; I hate awfully to lose
sight of him in this way. But the question is,
should we be justified in risking our necks to
satisfy a mere idle curiosity ? "
It is n't an idle curiosity," responded Tom.
' Mr. Sindbad is our partner, and I think it is
our duty to go to him; he may need our aid."
Oh, he can look out for himself very well! "
said Mr. Brown, with a sneer; "take my word
for that."
Well, he said he was going to start on a
journey," went on the boy impatiently. "Ifwe're
going to follow him we 'd better be .about it, for
he may not care to wait much longer for us."
VOL, XXIII.- 117. 9

"Yes, that 's so," returned Mr. Brown, so
nervous that his voice shook; "but the top of
a flagstaff does seem a rather odd starting-place
for a journey-does n't it strike you in that
way? I'll tell you what I '11 do! "
"Well ? "
"I want a little more time to think this thing
over; and, besides, I 'm not feeling very well.
Suppose you go first, eh ? What do you say
to that ?"
"All right, I '11 go."
"Good boy! And say, Tom, when you get
to the top, just before you step off, if you have
reason to think that there 's no particular dan-
ger wave your hand; will you do that ?"
"Then go, my boy, and if you need help just
call out, and James P. Brown will fly to your
A minute later, Tom was shinning up the
flagstaff, watched in breathless interest by the
Co. When he reached the top of the pole a
surprised, delighted smile appeared upon his
face; then he waved his hand, and disappeared
exactly as Sindbad had done.
Mr. Brown scratched his nose in surprise
and bewilderment.
"This is a little too much for me," he mut-
tered, and that 's saying a good deal. What
shall I do now? If I follow my partners I
may be incurring great risks; if I don't I may
lose the chance of a lifetime. What had I better-
do ? "
While the Co. stands with wrinkled brow
and compressed lips, trying to decide this mo-
mentous question, we may follow Tom and.
When he had climbed to the top of the flag-
staff he saw, to his amazement, Sindbad stand-
ing upon a platform about twelve feet square
and composed, apparently, of transparent glass.
I thought you 'd follow," the explorer said,


extending his hand. Come on board. You
might get dizzy standing there; Idid."
Tom obeyed.
SAs he stepped upon the platform, he per-
ceived that it was furnished with three chairs,
and that there was a high railing on three of its
four sides. It was transparent, and yielded to
the touch of his feet. He felt as if he were
walking on air.
What sort of a thing is this, Mr. Sindbad ?"
he asked, excitedly. Is it an air-ship ? Why
can't it be seen from the ground? How did
you know it was here. Why-"
One question at a time," interrupted Sind-
bad, smilingly. "I will answer them all, only
give me time. But first, I want to know if that
fellow Brown is coming."
I think he is," said Tom. I told him that
I would signal him if I thought there was no
Oh, that 's why you waved your hand, is
it?" said Sindbad, with a dissatisfied look.
"Well, I 'm sorry you did it."
"Why?" asked Tom. "Don't you like
him ? "
"Like him! cried Sindbad. "I well,
you are not a very keen observer if you have
not noticed that our relations have become -
to put it mildly somewhat strained. Just
look at him, standing there trying to make up
his mind to follow us! Did you ever see such
- ah! he has decided to come! Dear, dear!
I don't know when anything has made me so
nervous as that man's conduct. In all my ex-
perience with men and things I never met a
man or a thing like him."
He does n't mean any harm, Mr. Sindbad,"
said Tom. "You know it takes a little while
to get used to your ways."
Before the words had left the boy's mouth
he saw that he had made a mistake. He was
about to stammer out an apology which would
probably have only aggravated the original
offense in Sindbad's eyes, when the explorer
burst out with:
"Aha that 's your opinion, is it? It takes
time to get used to me, eh ? You 're the first
person that ever told me that. If the idea
were not so utterly ridiculous I should become
angry; as it is, I only laugh. Ha, ha! "

"Mr. Sindbad "
Excuse me, but I don't care to discuss the
matter any further. Ah your friend is begin-
ning to climb the flagstaff. Well, I. said I 'd
wait for him, and I will; but would n't I like
to no matter! I only hope he '11 succeed in
getting up here without attracting the attention
of any one. Luckily, when you and I came
up, all the hotel guests were at the back of the
house on the lawn-tennis ground, and now-
but here he is! "
Tom could not help thinking Sindbad a little
hypocritical when, after helping Mr. Brown
upon the platform, he said very effusively:
My dear fellow, I can't tell you how de-
lighted I am that you met with no accident in
your ascent. I was so afraid that you might
forget where you were. If that curiously treach-
erous memory of yours had failed you when
you were half way up the pole, it might have
been extremely awkward for you, you know--
now, might n't it ?"
What sort of a contrivance is this, anyhow,
Sindbad ? asked Mr. Brown, ignoring the se-
nior partner's question. Quite an idea, is n't
it ? Your own invention, I suppose; I always
said you had it in you. It never made any
difference to me when people ran you down,
and said you were overrated. 'Gentlemen,' I
used to say, 'it makes no dif-' "
Quite so," interrupted Sindbad with frigid
politeness; and I 'm sure I 'm greatly obliged.
But I think you asked me what sort of a -a
contrivance I believe that was the word you
used-this is. Allow me to inform you that
you are standing upon Abdallah's Aerial Crys-
tal Platform !"
Mr. Brown did not appear as much im-
pressed by this statement as Sindbad evidently
expected him to be.
"I am, eh ?" he said, glancing about him.
"Well, what 's the use of the thing, anyway?
I think it 's a good deal more comfortable
down below. Aerial Crystal Platform!' Ha,
ha, ha! You Orientals have some funny ideas
- there 's no use talking, you do have some
very queer ideas "
"See here," cried Sindbad, very red in the
face, "I 'm .no more an Oriental than you are;
I 'm a cosmopolitan, if there ever was one.




And if you don't like this platform you can
leave it just as soon as you please."
"My dear boy," said Mr. Brown, apologeti-
cally, I did n't say I did n't like it. I do like
it-in fact, I 'm quite infatuated with it. But I
should like to know what it is for."
"You 'd like to know what it is for!" ex-
claimed Sindbad, scornfully. "Well, what do
you suppose it is for ? You are in possession of
all your faculties, are n't you? But no mat-
ter; rather than get into another argument with
you I will explain that it is intended as a means
of locomotion, and that as such it has few
equals and no superiors."
"I don't for a moment doubt it," returned
the Co., who seemed to be afraid that he had
gone too far, and to be anxious to conciliate
Sindbad. I can see that it is a great inven-
tion, though I have not the slightest idea how
it works. Where is the machinery, Mr. Sind-
"There is n't any machinery; all that is
needed to start the platform is my will-power,"
replied Sindbad.
"Really, now! That 's an immense saving
of fuel and energy, is n't it? How did you
happen to think of the thing ? "
"It is not my invention, Mr. Brown," said
the explorer. "I thought I told you that it
was Abdallak's A&rial Platform."
So you did, but I thought maybe your first
name was Abdallah. It 's a pretty name, too;
don't you think so ? "
No, I don't," snapped Sindbad. "It 's a
name I always detested, and I 'm glad it is not
"Oh!" said Mr. Brown. "I see. Well,
perhaps when you come to think of it it is
not such a desirable name, after all. But who
is Abdallah?"
"He is an Arabian magician," replied the
senior partner-"at least he w'as; I don't
know whether he 's alive now or not." '
"Well, he must have had a great head," said
the Co. "I wish I 'd known him."
"You would n't have liked him," remarked
"You think not, eh ? "
"I 'm sure of it."
"Well, how did he happen to invent this

thing? And how did you get hold of it?
Pardon my curiosity, but this is really such an
extraordinary piece of mechanism that "
"It is n't mechanism, it 's magic," inter-
rupted Sindbad. "I don't mind telling you
all I know about the thing, but to do so it will
be necessary for me to relate an incident of my
one-hundred-and-sixty-ninth voyage, and that
might bore you."
"I should be delighted charmed! Mr.
Brown assured him.
"But our young friend Thomas, perhaps -"
began the explorer, with a questioning look at
the youth.
"I 'd like to hear the whole story, if you
have time to tell it, Mr. Sindbad," said Tom.
"Time! What is time to me?" laughed
Sindbad. Have n't I drunk of the Fountain
of Youth ? Well, since you both want to hear
the story, here goes!"



"HOLD on!" interrupted Mr. Brown, as
Sindbad seated himself in Oriental fashion upon
the platform, cleared his throat, and prepared
to begin the story.
What 's the matter now ? asked the great
adventurer, irritably.
Had n't we better get out of sight of that
hotel ? We don't wish to attract attention, you
We are out of sight of the hotel," said Sind-
"Eh ? "
"We 're not attracting attention; we
could n't attract attention if we wished to.
This platform and everything on it is invisible
from below; that is one of the best things about
the invention, to my way of thinking."
Well," said Mr. Brown, drawing a long
breath, "that magician did n't do things by
halves, did he ? But our voices may be heard."
That is impossible, too."
"Well, I declare Then we could sit here all
day shouting at the top of our voices, and no
one would be the wiser ? "
"No one," said Sindbad, positively.


"Well, now I see why you value the old
platform so highly. At first I thought--but
go on with your story, Sindbad."
Whenever you have quite finished," said the
explorer, with a disagreeable curl of the upper
lip. I 'm not one of those persons who de-
sire to monopolize the conversation, I assure
"We never thought you were did we,
Tom? said Mr. Brown, winking at the lad.
Go on, please. It was your one-hundred-and-
sixty-ninth voyage, I think you said."
Your memory has not failed you on this oc-
casion, at any rate," responded Sindbad. If
I were writing an account of this voyage, Mr.
Brown, I should not need that rubber stamp, for
I was not living in Bagdad at the time, and did
not go to Balsora. I was stopping in Bagdad
as an English tourist, and under an assumed
"Oh, under an assumed name, eh ?" said
Mr. Brown, with a slight elevation of the eye-
brows. Dear me! But I suppose you had
your reasons; and after all, it's none of my
"Yes, sir," responded Sindbad, with height-
ened color. I had my reasons, and it is none
of your business. But I 'm going to tell you
the whole story, if you will allow me."
"Please don't keep interrupting, Mr. Brown,"
said Tom. Mr. Sindbad is all ready to go on
with the voyage, if you will only let him."
If I '11 only let him cried the Co. wildly.
"Why, what am I doing to prevent him ? No
matter what happens, I 'm the one blamed. I
never saw anything like it."'
During this episode Sindbad had been drum-
ming impatiently on the edge of the Crystal
Platform. He now said with an air of resig-
nation :
"Whenever you have quite finished, Mr.
Brown, I shall proceed not before."
The Co. closed his lips tightly, and stared
straight ahead at nothing in particular, and
with an utterly expressionless face.
After an impressive silence of a full minute,
Sindbad began:
I am not going to relate my entire one-hun-
dred-and-sixty-ninth voyage, for I feel sure that
the recital would not only take up too much of

your valuable time, but would excessively bore
two gentlemen so thoroughly up-to-date as I
know you both to be. I shall simply detail one
little incident which occurred during my resi-
dence of a few weeks in Bagdad. I shall make
the story as short as possible, and I crave your
"kind indulgence."
With. these bitterly sarcastic words the ex-
plorer, after a vain attempt to catch the eye of
Mr. Brown, who was still gazing into vacancy,
glared at Tom with a look of mingled reproach
and defiance. Then he went on:
My business in Bagdad was to rescue a
captive maiden from the power of a wicked
magician, a task for which some of my friends
were kind enough to think me especially fitted.
But what are you laughing at, Brown ? "
The Co., who really seemed to have been
doing his utmost to suppress his mirth, now
broke out with:
"Ha, ha, ha! Ho, ho, ho! You must ex-
cuse me, Sindbad, but this seems to carry me
right back to the days when the nursery was
the only world I knew. 'Captive maiden!'
'Wicked magician!' That is good, Sindbad!"
You think so, do you ? said Sindbad, with
ominous quietness. "I am so glad you are
pleased. Stop pinching him, Tom; I really
like to see him enjoy himself, and I:m glad to
know that his memory is improving so rapidly;
now he can remember all about his nursery
days. Go on, Mr. Brown; laugh all you like.
And let me tell you one thing that I think will
amuse you greatly:: I could by a mere effort of
my will cause this platform to turn upside down
and send you and my other valued partner to
the ground in just about the time it would take
me to say Jack Robinson. I don't know that
this fact will possess any particular interest to
you, but I thought it would n't do any harm to
mention it."
By this time Mr. Brown's face had lengthened
considerably, and wore a somewhat apprehen-
sive expression.
".Oh, I don't doubt you could do it, my dear
fellow," he said; "in fact, I am sure you could.
But you won't now, will you ? "
"I 'm not so sure about that," replied the
explorer uncompromisingly.
"But lam," said Mr. Brown, with a ghastly






attempt at sprightliness. He, he, he! Tom, hundred-and-sixty-ninth voyage. Is n't that
just imagine Sindbad doing such a thing! Why, a good idea, Sindbad ? He, he! I tell you
he could n't; his noble nature
would revolt at the very -help! i
The crystal platform had be-
gun to lurch in a very peculiar
and dangerous manner.
I did n't do that," said Sind-
bad, evidently almost as much
alarmed as the Co.; "honestly
I did n't."
"Well, how do you account
for it ? asked Mr. Brown.
"I can't account for it," re-
plied the explorer; "it never
did such a thing before."
"It 's pretty evident," said
the Co., that the old platform
is out of order; and it 's no
wonder, after all, when you
consider how long you 've had
it, Sindbad. You'd better send
it back to to wherever you
got it, for repairs. And now _
suppose we go back to the
hotel piazza ? there is n't a soul -"
there, and the chairs are really
very comfortable. Then you



two heads are better than one. Shall I climb
down first? "
And Mr. Brown stepped toward the flagstaff.
SYou will kindly remain just where you are,"
said Sindbad icily. "The platform is all right
Oh, it seems all right," said Mr. Brown, but
you can't tell."
Yes, I can tell," replied Sindbad. Don't
you worry about this platform; it is, as I have
told you, entirely under the control of my will."
"Oh, yes, I understand that," said the Co.,
" and I 'm sure your management of it, so far
as I have seen, reflects great credit on you.
But then, don't you see ? you can't always keep
your will-power concentrated on this rick I
mean, this handsomely appointed platform.
You '11 get to thinking about something else,
and the first thing you know the machine will
begin to wobble. Oh, I know you, Sindbad!
I 'm not blaming you, you understand; but, as
the old saying has it -"
Never mind about the old saying," inter-
rupted the explorer; "you 're going to stay
right here. I have said it, and that settles it.
Now will you sit down ?"
Of course I will, if you insist," said Mr.
Brown, but I can't help thinking that "
Well, you can help talking," interposed the
senior partner. "I 've undertaken to tell this,
story, and I 'm going to tell it, and tell it right
here. Do you understand me, Mr. Brown?
right here !"
"I 'm not deaf," said the Co. "I heard
what you said. Go on with your yarn. Your
business in Bagdad was to rescue a captive
maiden, I believe you said. Did you do it? "
"If you will listen quietly," said Mr. Sindbad
with frigid politeness, "you will learn whether
I did or not."
"Do keep quiet, please; Mr. Brown," added
The Co. again closed his mouth tightly, and
Sindbad resumed his story.
"As I informed you, my mission in Bagdad
was to rescue a captive maiden. She was in
the power of a magician known as Abdallah."
"The man that invented this platform?"
asked Tom.
The same. He was really a first-class ma-

gician I '11 give him credit for that. He
could turn you into an ostrich, or a cat, or-
or anything that happened to come into his
head just as easily as he could eat his breakfast.
It was really extraordinary, the things that that
man could do. Why, what would be hard
work for you or me was mere child's play for
him. I saw him turn a man into a tree and
back again inside of five seconds."
"Well, that would be hard work for me,"
said Tom, drawing a long breath.
Of course it would; it would take you years
of study to accomplish it, and even then you
might make a mistake. If Abdallah had pos-
sessed a gentle, kindly disposition with his
great ability he would have been a very fine
fellow. But you know how these magicians
are-always cruel and vindictive. The least
little thing offends them, and then they can't
think of anything but revenge until they get it.
Now, the father of this maiden whom I under-
took to rescue was a good-natured, simple-
minded merchant of Bagdad who had incurred
Abdallah's enmity once because he laughed at
Why did he laugh ? asked Tom.
"I don't exactly remember," replied Sind-
bad; "but I think it was because Abdallah
passed his shop wearing an elephant's trunk.
Yes, that was it! The magician had been
transacting some sort of private business dis-
guised as an elephant, and in changing himself
back into a man had forgotten to utter certain
necessary words, in consequence of which
omission the elephant's trunk remained."
He must have been very absent-minded
not to have noticed it," said Tom.
"Yes, he must; but the fact remains that he
did n't until reminded of it by the merchant.
And now may I go on with my story ? "
If you please, Mr. Sindbad," replied Tom,
"Thank you. Well, I gained admission to
the magician's house disguised as a traveling
merchant. I had a box filled with little odds
and ends,--bric-a-brac and all that sort of thing,
you understand,-and I exhibited them to the
magician. Now, among my stock was a bottle
of very peculiar ointment that had been fur-
nished me by an opposition magician who did




not like this one. If I could only manage to
rub a little of this stuff on his forehead he would
become completely the creature of my will, and
I could walk away with the captive maiden
without the slightest fear of any resistance on
his part.
"Well, the old rascal summoned the maiden
from her room, and told her to help herself to
anything in my stock that took her fancy -
that money was no object to him, and that al-
though his relations with her
father were somewhat strained,
he had nothing in the wide
world against her.
"That gave me just the
chance I wanted.
"'Here's something I think
will just suit you, miss,' I said,
uncorking the bottle of oint-
"But that old fox Abdallah
was wide awake. What do
you think he did the moment
he got a sniff of that ointment ?
Quicker than I can tell it he
seized the maiden, placed her
beside him in the middle of
the room, and with a piece
of chalk drew upon the floor
around them a circle about
three feet in diameter.
Of course you know that
a circle of this sort drawn
with chalk has from time im-
memorial been regarded as a
sure protection from all sorts
of misfortune.
"'You 've got to get up
pretty early in the morning to
get 'ahead of old Abdallah,' ',NO WH
said the sorcerer, with a hideous
grin, as he observed the look of dismay on my
face. Now what are you going to do?'"

"WELL, that was a fix!" exclaimed Mr.
Brown. The magician had you there."
That 's what he thought," replied Sindbad,

complacently; "but he was mistaken, as you
"Why, what did you do? What could you
do?" cried the Co. "There he and his pris-
oner were inside the magic circle, and there you
were outside. Why, there was nothing for you
to do but submit."
"That is also just what Abdallah thought," re-
turned Sindbad, with a smirk. But Necessity
is the mother of Invention. Like an inspira-


tion, a way out of the difficulty occurred to me.
There was a bottle of water on the table; I
picked it up, moistened my handkerchief, and
quietly wiped out the chalk-mark."
"Well, well! gasped Mr. Brown, I should
never have thought of that! "
"No, I did n't suppose you would," said
the explorer; "but in a case of emergency I
am usually right on hand. To be perfectly



frank with you, I think I might have saved my-
self the trouble of rubbing out the chalk-mark."
How could you possibly have done that ?"
asked Mr. Brown.
Very easily. What was there to prevent me
from stepping over the line? It was n't a
picket-fence, but only a clumsily made chalk-
"Well," said the Co., drawing a long breath,
"you really are a remarkable man, Sindbad.
Why, you 're a genius!"
"So I 've been told before," responded Sind-
bad, "but all I lay claim to is ordinarily good
judgment and invariable presence of mind.
Shall I go on?"
"By all means, my dear sir; and please par-
don the interruption. Of course the magician
was greatly terrified when you wiped out his
"I should say he was. Why, he turned as
white as a sheet; and, getting down upon his
knees, began to sue for mercy. But, without
paying any attention to him, I seized the
maiden, and started for the door with her.
Then he jumped up, and threatened to turn
me into a spider if I advanced another step.
In the quietest possible manner I told him that
I should transform him into a fly if he made,
the slightest attempt to do anything of the
Could you really have done it ?" inter-
rupted Tom.
Well, no," replied Sindbad with an embar-
rassed cough; as a matter of fact I could n't.
The threat was only what would in modern par-
lance be termed a bit of' bluff.' But Abdallah
believed it and begged me to have pity on
him, if not for his own sake for that of his
"'Well, Abdallah,' said I, 'I 'm willing to
do what -is right; but I can't forget the eternal
principles of justice. I really think that I
should be acting for the best good of the com-
munity at large if I turned you into a fly. I
do, honestly. But I will consent to negotiate
with you. I '11 agree not to molest you in any
way, but you must make it worth my while.'
He was half frightened to death, and be-
gan telling all about this AErial Platform- his
latest invention. I mentally decided in a very

short time that it was a good thing, and I told
him that if he would give it to me I would n't
transform him into anything at all.
You shall have it,' he said; but I must
have two hundred sequins to boot.'
I pretended to object, though of course the
two hundred sequins did n't make any differ-
ence to me, for I was wearing my enchanted
trousers at the time. The end of it all was that
I paid him the money, got the Crystal Plat-
form, took the young woman home, received a
liberal reward from her father for my services in
rescuing her, and left Bagdad.
"It was, everything considered, a very fair
speculation. The Crystal Platform is ready
whenever I want it, and many are the pleasant
trips I 've had on it."
Did n't the magician make a fuss when he
found that the two hundred sequins had disap-
peared ? asked Tom.
"Fuss!" laughed Sindbad. "Well, that is a
mild word for it. I understand that he was so
furious that he changed himself into a house on
fire in his rage. But of course that did n't
hurt me any. In fact, I did n't hear of it until
long afterward. He sent word to me, how-
ever, by a mutual friend that he intended to
get even with me, and that he would give me
one voyage on the Platform that I should n't
Oh, he said that, did he?" cried Mr.
Brown, nervously. How do you know that
this very voyage is n't the voyage he meant ?
-you know how the Platform acted a little
Oh, I 've no fear," said Sindbad, laughing.
"And now I '11 show you how the Platform
works. As I have told you, my will is the only
motive power used. I now will that the plat-
form go to yonder church steeple and back; just
as a little trial trip, you understand, to get you
used to the thing."
Before he had finished speaking the Aerial
Platform started off at a terrific rate of speed in
the direction of the steeple. On the way it
performed the most extraordinary antics, gyrat-
ing rapidly for a full half minute, then rocking,
then tilting until it reached an angle of nearly
forty-five degrees.
"Dear me! it never behaved like this be-




fore!" cried Sindbad, with a very white face.
" Whoa, there steady! "
Instead of obeying, the Platform made a
sudden rush for the steeple, into which it ran
with great force. Tom, who was a good deal
frightened, had just time to leap into the belfry
window when the ec-
centric Platform start-
ed back for the flag-
staff* a moment later
it had disappeared en-
tirely from the boy's
He hurried down
the narrow spiral stair-
case, and ran at the
top of his speed toward //
the flagstaff.
When he was within /
a few hundred feet of
it he heard a sudden 'i
crash and a mocking i t
laugh, then Sindbad ,
and Mr. Brown sud- //
denly appeared at the ''.
top of the pole and
began sliding down. ',.
As they reached the -
ground he ran to meet
them, asking: :
"What has hap- ''
opened ?"
"Abdallah has had
his revenge," replied
Sindbad, "and the A&-
rial Platform has gone to smash. I never had
such luck in my life before!"
Nor I either, so far as I can remember,"
said Mr. Brown. You don't get me on any
more Aerial Platforms, I can tell you that."
Luckily, nobody saw us," added Sindbad.
" Come, let 's get back to the hotel; I, for
one, feel quite shaken up."
Shall we take that nine-o'clock train, sir ? "
asked Tom as they again seated themselves on
the piazza.
"I suppose so," replied Sindbad shortly.
"And what shall we do when we get to New
York, Mr. Sindbad ?"
When we get to New York!" said the ex-

plorer in a voice of awful significance. Why
did n't you say if we get to New York ? "
"Do you mean to say that you have any
doubt that we shall reach the Metropolis?"
inquired Mr. Brown.
"We may in time," answered Sindbad;

I- uc<7- -"
-' a i
.11.,. '3~.

"but I am willing to stake my professional
reputation that we shall not reach it on that
"Oh, well, if you know anything against the
train," said Mr. Brown, "let us by all means
take another."
It 's not that train in particular," said Sind-
bad. "What I said applies as well to the ten-
o'clock train, or the eleven-o'clock train, or
the twelve-o'clock train, as to the nine-o'clock
train. You know my reputation, Mr. Brown;
that train will not cannot- get through with-
out an accident.
Oh, that 's nonsense," laughed Mr. Brown.
"Excuse me, Sindbad, my dear boy, but I 'm






afraid you 're getting superstitious in your old "Do you mean that? cried Mr. Brown.
age. Oh, that is really funny! The train can't "I do, certainly; I never say what I do not
get through without an accident! Why, the mean."
run takes only a little more than an hour." Will you forfeit the enchanted trousers ?"
I don't care if it takes less than a minute," "Yes. Good afternoon, gentlemen."
replied Sindbad. "It cannot be made without And the explorer rose abruptly and entered
an accident if I am a passenger. Tom can tell the hotel.
you that." Awfully touchy, is n't he ? said Mr. Brown
I guess that 's so, Mr. Brown," said Tom; to Tom. "But, really, I was in the right, you
" you know I told you what happened when know. Well, I think those enchanted trousers
Mr. Sindbad and I started for New York the will belong to me to-morrow."
other time." What remained of the afternoon was tedious
Oh, that was a mere coincidence," said the and uneventful; and before nine o'clock Tom
new partner. Don't permit such ideas to re- went to bed with a headache.
main in your mind for a moment. I 'd rather "It 's an awful strain on a fellow to be a
be a slave in the mines of what-you-may-call-it member of such a firm," he said to himself as
- I can't think of the name now -
than a victim of such degrading super-
"Do you mean to say," demanded .
Sindbad, that you term a belief in my .'. '
voyages a 'degrading superstition'? ?. .. .....
Do you, sir? Speak out like a man!" :-
Now don't be so quick-tempered, ,, ;i"
Mr. Sindbad," said Mr. Brown. "It's .
not only in bad taste, but it's positively '- .
dangerous for a man of your age. I ..-" '
have the greatest possible respect for -I '4
you as a gentleman and an explorer,
but you must admit--now, really you .
must that the generally accepted story
of your voyages is-well, is a little "
exaggerated. And as for your idea l!
that a train can't travel from New- .
hampton to New York with you on'
board without being wrecked- why, 1.
that 's simply bosh! .
"It is, eh? cried Sindbad in a voice
broken with passion. "Well, it 's evi-
dent that your experience on Abdal-
lah's platform has n't done you much good. he blew out his light. "Somehow the real
I '11 forfeit to you all I possess if the train Sindbad does n't seem much like the one in the
upon which we start for New York does not book. I think Hindbad flattered him, but I
meet with a serious accident! should n't dare say so to him."
(To be continued.)



I. -

HAVE yOU ever heard of the Princess Yo-
lette, who was born many years ago? I do not
know the exact date of Yolette's birth, but I
think it was near the end of the same year in
which there was such a stir over the mysterious
disappearance of Prince Zeramo, only son of
the King of the Cloud-capped Mountains. If
you remember when that was, you can fix upon
about the time the Princess was born.
Yolette was the daughter of a famous king,-
a king famous for being able to say more about
less in a shorter time than any other person
then living. Upon one thing in particular he
spent many words, and wasted much breath:
and that was the sad condition of his beloved
daughter. The Princess Yolette was as healthy
and hearty a child as ever came into the world;
but for some unknown reason she did not talk.
The King could not sufficiently lament the fact
that his dear child had been born dumb.
Indeed, by his loud complaints he at length
worried his poor Queen into a serious illness;
and at last she quietly expired, lamented
throughout the kingdom.
Her death was a heavy blow to her husband,
for she had been a good and patient listener
to him in his talkative moods. However, his
sorrow gradually gave place to his growing anx-
iety on account of Yolette, who was now known
the whole world over as the Silent Princess.
He presently fell into the way of talking
about her with his prime minister many hours
daily, until at last that official advised that, all
else having failed, the courtiers should make a
diligent search for the lost voice. This was
done, and during the quest a remarkable thing
took place. Among the seekers was the first
lady in waiting of the Princess Yolette, and
with her was the little Princess herself. All at
once, just as everybody was beginning to wish

somebody else would suggest there was no use
in hunting longer, Yolette, who had seemed
buried in deep thought, opened her mouth and
said, in the most natural manner possible:
Tell me a story! "
These words, the first that had ever been
heard to fall from the Princess's lips, caused such
amazement to her hearers that for a moment
they were dumb themselves. In fact, not one
of them had left wit enough to obey her High-
ness's order until, with a stamp of her small
foot, she repeated emphatically:
"Tell me a story, I say! "
Thereupon the first lady in waiting, whose
mouth was already wide open, hastily began
with Once upon a time-" and then stopped
short to rack her brains for something to say
next. Meanwhile, two or three dozen courtiers
hurried off to see who should be first to tell the
King the great news. His majesty was so de-
lighted to hear that his daughter had found her
voice at last that, when he learned of her request
for a story, he gave orders that every member
of his court should be ready at once to tell the
Princess as many stories as she might be pleased
to ask for.
This proved to be a wise precaution. Yo-
lette's first demand for a story, having been
complied with, was followed by a second, and
that by a third, and those by any number more.
In fact, her craving for stories was something
so extraordinary that soon the stock of stories
at court was quite exhausted. To supply her
ever-growing demand, the King then engaged
professional story-tellers, whose duty it was to
amuse the Princess from morning till night, and
from night till morning, too, if she so willed it.
At first there were only one hundred of these
functionaries, but their number was shortly in-
creased to five hundred, and finally to one
thousand. And still, with this large force, oc-
casionally Yolette was left storyless. As time



went on, the supply of stories in the country
began to show signs of giving out, so that by
and by it became necessary to put the Princess
on an allowance of only five stories a day,- a
most shabby way of treating a royal maiden
who had always been used to having as much
as she wanted of everything. However, there
was no help for it, and indeed there seemed to
be every prospect of a story-famine at an early
date. This outlook grieved the fond father
almost as much as it did the daughter, and
he was at his wit's end to know what to do
about it. At last the prime minister, who did
not look at the matter at all in the same light
as did his royal master, ventured to give some
good advice.
May it please your majesty," said he, "this
dearth of stories, in my humble opinion, is far
from being a calamity. Do you not know that
the Princess has been wasting time that would
be better employed in study ? Why, it would be
as well to send her to the City of Stories at once,
as to let her thus go on listening to idle tales
and growing up in ignorance of the things that
all children ought to know! "
The King admitted the truth of all this, and
he resolved immediately to get for her the very
best masters in the country. But when the
Princess found that the learned men either could
not or would not tell her stories, she sent them
away and positively refused to have anything

to do with them. Her wilful conduct in this
respect pained the King exceedingly.
Luckily, however, Yolette had a grandmother,
a good old queen, who induced the Princess to
learn one thing that was of some benefit to her.
On .Yolette's tenth birthday she sent her a
beautiful gold pen with a pearl handle and a
diamond point. With the gift was a note
promising that if the Princess would send an
invitation, written by her own hand, she would
come and make her a long visit, during which
she would tell her a great many delightful
Now it chanced that, on the day before, the
one thousandth story-teller had come to the
end of his last tale and gone. And so, as it
seemed her only chance of hearing any more
stories, she reluctantly consented to learn to
write. Much rejoiced, the King immediately
sent for the Eminent Writing-master, a teacher
of rare talent in his line.
When this accomplished instructor came to
give his first lesson, Yolette thought him, at
first sight, a very strange person indeed. He
was remarkably tall and slim, and was clad all
in black except his broad white collar and
cuffs, which were ornamented with finely exe-
cuted mottos in script. On his back he car-
ried his quill pens in a sort of quiver, such as is
used by archers for their arrows. With him
came two pages,-not pages to be written




upon, but pages in waiting,-called by the
queer names of Ynkie and Wypa. The former
wore on his head a hat in the shape of an ink-
bottle, and filled with ink, while the thick bushy
hair of his companion was exactly suited for
cleaning pens.
After a short speech, the teacher took a pen,
passed it through Wypa's hair, and, dipping it
into Ynkie's hat, began his instructions.
Yolette learned quickly, and before long could
not only write, but could read tolerably well.
At last the course of lessons came to an end,
and Yolette sat down one morning to write the
letter to her grandmother. That letter the
good old lady never received; in fact, it never
was even finished, for reasons that will soon
appear. The Princess began thus:
much for your beautiful present, and I hasten to write
you this letter to invite you to come to see me as soon as
you can. Stay as long as you can, and tell me all the
stories you know.
Here the Princess was about to sign her-
self "Your loving and dutiful granddaughter,"
when it occurred to her that perhaps she ought
to add something else before closing it. But the
difficulty then arose; what else should she say?
"Oh, dear!" she ex-
claimed, "I wonder
what people usually
write about! The Emi-
nent Writing- master
surely should have
taught me that, as
well as writing, before '
he went away." ..I
At that moment her .
glance wandered out
of the open window, ,
across the courtyard,
and thence upward to
the clock on top of
the great tower of the YOLETT
castle. It was a very
old clock indeed, having been put in its place
by one of the Princess's ancestors many years
before, and it really was a wonderful machine.
Besides always giving the correct time of day,
it told all sorts of curious and useful things,
and, moreover, it needed winding only once a

year. But, in the whole course of its previous
existence, this Tower Clock had never done
anything half so strange as what Yolette saw
it do now.
While she was looking at it she suddenly
perceived that its face wore a look of intelli-
gence, and seemed to return her gaze. And
presently in some way the face took to itself a
body and arms and legs, and, to her still greater
amazement, began to descend from its tower.
Then it came directly across to Yolette's win-
dow, and, resting its elbows on the ledge,
looked in at her with something of a defiant
"Why do you desert your post and come
down here?" demanded the Princess, severely.
"Simply because I am tired of staying any
longer up there at my post, as you call it," re-
torted the Tower Clock, ill-humoredly. It is
a dreadful bore always to be going and never
to be getting anywhere. If I were allowed to
rest at night like other people, that would be
something; but no, I must work, work, night
and day, week in, week out, Sundays, holidays,
and all other days, until this dull routine has
quite used up my patience. I know it will soon
use me up, too, unless I take steps to secure

' d~i3il


relief The Custodian of the Royal Timepieces
wound me up for another weary year or so, this
morning. Oh, how I detest that man! He is
determined I shall get no rest until I drop to
pieces from old age. So, as I seem doomed to
be forever on the go,-thanks to his officious-





ness,- I have determined that henceforth I
will go to some purpose. For several years I
have been revolving in my head a plan that
I have now decided to carry out. I am go-
ing to travel; and they who are wise travel
straight forward, thus getting over the most
ground in the least time; for a straight line
is the shortest distance between two points.
Would you like to travel, Princess ? "
"Perhaps I should like it. What shall we
see in our travels ? queried the Princess.
Oh, a great many things! The City of
Stories, for "
"The City of Stories Yolette interrupted,
eagerly. "What is that ? "
It is the finest city in the world, and in it
is a collection of all the stories ever written."
Oh, how delightful! exclaimed Yolette.
"If we are to visit that city, certainly I wish to
travel. Come, let us be off at once."
"At once," repeated the Tower Clock; and,
putting his long arms through the window, he
lifted Yolette out, and set her upon his shoul-
der. Then he started across the courtyard,
and strode through the palace gate as if he
were afraid the Custodian of the Royal Time-
pieces might discover that he was running away
and try to make him stop. But it chanced the
King had given a grand ball the night before,
and now all the guards, as well as every one
else belonging to the court, were taking a fore-
noon nap. So the deserter got away quite un-
noticed, and in a short time afterward was
stalking through the open country, far beyond
the reach of pursuit.
Yolette soon decided that she liked traveling.
From her elevated perch on the shoulder of the
Tower Clock she could see all there was to be
seen, while at the same time she was being
borne on toward the wonderful City of Stories.
By and by, as they were thus journeying,
there suddenly sprang into the middle of the
road before them a yellow-haired youth, who,
somewhat to Yolette's alarm, drew his sword,
crying out, in fierce tones, as he did so:
"Hold, vile enchanter! If thou dost not re-
lease the maiden instantly, then by my faith this
good sword shall seek thy marrow straightway!"
To this, the Tower Clock replied with scorn:
"Young man, you are talking nonsense. I

am not an enchanter, or anything of the sort.
That rusty blade of yours is far from being a
good sword. And you would seek a long time
for my marrow."
I really beg your pardon," stammered the
yellow-haired youth in some confusion. I
see I have made a mistake. I honestly thought
this young lady to be a maiden in distress, and


-- -
7-.L, j4


so I hastened to her rescue. It is many long
weeks since I set out, and it is high time I
rescued some one, if I am ever going to. You
don't happen to know of any one who needs
rescuing, do you ?" he inquired anxiously.
No, I do not," replied the Tower Clock,




shaking his head. Where I come from people
are prudent, and seldom run any risks or get
into any danger. But if you care to accompany
us, we may help you to find what you are look-
ing for. We are going far, and it will be strange
if we do not meet some rash person who has
got himself into trouble and is waiting to be
rescued by a heroic youth, such as you are."
"You are very kind," returned the young
man, joyfully; "and if you will take me-"
Ere he could finish he had been lifted to a
seat on the left shoulder of the Tower Clock.
I should like to ask why you are so eager
to rescue some one ? remarked Yolette to her
new companion as the Tower Clock moved on.
It is my destiny," replied the yellow-haired
youth, impressively. Iam a thirdson."
"Oh, yes, yes!" said Yolette; "I do know
about them. I have heard of their doings often.
I understand you now. Tell me, what great
deed are you expecting to do?"
"Ah! but that is the very thing I cannot tell,"
answered the youth, ruefully. As a third son, I
feel sure before long of slaying a giant, or a
dragon, or an enchanter, or a wicked dwarf at
the very least. Why, of course I must do some-
thing heroic sooner or later; though it does
seem," he added, with a sigh, as if the chances
to perform great deeds were much scarcer than
they used to be. Why is it, I wonder ?"
"I cannot tell you," said the Princess, "un-
less it be that there have been so many third
sons in the world already that the heroic deeds
are now all done. But don't be downhearted;
we will keep a sharp lookout as we travel on,
and no doubt something or other will turn up
in time. I am sure," she continued, with a look
of admiration, "you must be very brave. I was
quite frightened when you rushed out in front
of us just now."
At these words the Tower Clock gave a con-
temptuous "Pooh!" and shrugged his shoulders
so high as nearly to unseat the two passengers.
Meanwhile, as they journeyed, the Third Son
did his best to cheer up, and succeeded so well
that Yolette found in him a very agreeable trav-
eling companion. He was a handsome youth,
and seemed to be something better than a com-
mon peasantlad. His desire to do heroic deeds
. made him rather flighty at times, and he often

asked to be set down that he might stalk up to
a house and ask whether any one within needed
to be rescued.
As they traveled onward, by and by they came
to a dial set upon a post at the roadside. It
at once aroused Yolette's curiosity.
"What a queer clock!" she exclaimed.
"Why do they have the VII up instead of the
XII, I wonder?"
"Humph! that 's no clock," returned the
Tower Clock, scornfully; "it is only a sort of
thermometer, and I don't know why the VII
may not as well be up as down on a mere ther-
mometer. That dial," he explained, "shows
us that the City of Stories is distant to-day
about three hours and a half from where we
now are. You know heat expands and cold
contracts metals, roads, and days, or at least it
has the same effect; for you will find you can
get over less ground in a given time on a hot
day than you can on a cool one. As we are
now in the cool season of the year, it will not
take us nearly so long to reach the City of
Stories as it would if we were in the middle of
summer. But you must n't suppose that three
hours and a half for such short-legged crea-
tures as men means that length of time for me.
Not by a good deal, as you'll soon perceive."

In support of these last words the Tower
Clock, who had been moving steadily all the
while, presently brought them to the top of a
little hill, and the far-famed City of Stories was
suddenly disclosed to their view.

(To be continued.)




~bft~-~ v
Aii P "
~~i~t c "~i~ F.A


BOB, and Joshua, and Balaam went up the
mountain one late summer afternoon. Joshua
was a jet-black boy, un joli peit nigre, Natalie
called him. Balaam was a donkey clever
enough to talk. The clouds had been piling
up all the afternoon, and Bob's mother had
suggested that the drive should be short in conse-
quence -" around the mountain," for instance.
These fortunate people were living on a blessed
big hill, with great peaks rising all about them,
and air as fresh as the best in all the world for
daily breathing. The name of the place was
Balaam was a very slow donkey. His ears

were longer than his legs, Joshua said; and,
Joshua knew, for he and Balaam had been chums
for three years. The boys jogged slowly around
the mountain, once, twice; and then finding it
monotonous, and being much interested in the
mysteries of "the top," they suggested in a
breath, both at once, that they should climb up
to the very top, and get the view. So, much
against Balaam's will, they started up the rocky
path, and began the ascent. It was very inter-
esting in the wood, dark and green and cool,
and little tremblings and stirs in the underbrush
suggested all sorts of beautiful possibilities to
Bob ground-squirrels, rabbits, woodchucks,



chucks, or even game. At each start or crackle
in the brush one boy would cry to the other:
Phew! that 's quail rising. We flushed
'em. My, don't I wish Reddy' was here!"
Reddy was a setter pup.
"If I had my gun- said Joshua.
Joshua's gun was still in the gun-shop, but
he knew it well. It was a fifteen-bore gun, and
he used No. 8 shot. Joshua had not lived in
the mountains for nothing. The many evenings
when he joined the group around the big fire-
place listening to the tales of mighty hunters, had
resulted in Joshua's owning a gun in fancy, in
being a good shot, and in knowing the haunts
of all the birds in America, especially of wood-
cock, which Joshua confounded in his mind
with woodchuck, Bob thought, though he was
too loyal to say so.
SSo they went on, and the path grew steeper,
and other trails crossed it, and the clouds were
blacker, and that dear delightful sense of being
brave and yet a little afraid grew on them both.
They sat very near each other. Now and then
a sharp flash of lightning came. Bob said
"I suppose there 's no good place to turn
around till we get to the top."
"There 's no place here nor there," says
Joshua. "Balaam '11 have to climb up a tree
and down on the other side of it before he gets
his nose turned t6 home."
"Hurry," replied Bob, listening critically to
the wind rising and the rumbling thunder.
"Well, we're most there. Don't be scared,
Balaam"; for Balaam's ears were wiggling
rapidly, and a loud bray came suddenly from
his mouth a bray that might have flushed all
the woodchucks, at least, for miles around.
"Shut up! called Joshua. Balaam, you '11
scare the things. Say, Bob, you know they 's
cats up here on the mountain." In a loud
whisper. "Someone saw one, a cat-last
week. Ned Green, I think it was."
Hum!" said Bob scornfully again, though he
looked out :of the tail of his right eye into the
woods. Hum! a cat! It might have been
'Queen Hatasu' probably. She goes every-
where alone. She 's not afraid. I wish she
were here now. I 'd like to see her and feel
her." Yes, Bob would have liked to see or
VOL. XXIII.-119.

feel anything so homelike, so domestic, so cozy
as a hearthstone kitten with a pink ribbon and
a bell around her throat. It would have been
a link between him and the little mother half-
way down the mountain.
"Hatasu!" called Joshua scornfully. Naw,
a wild-cat, I mean -wild. Don't you know?
They climbs trees and jumps on you--some
calls 'em cow-panthers- when you don't expect
"Shut up!" said Bob crossly. "You 're a
scare-cat yourself !"
An' then there 's b'ars," continued Joshua.
"I 'd ought ter know -big black b'ars- that
hugs you till they 've hugged you all to nothing
but a kind of red jelly. I 'd ought ter know-
't ain't my first summer here."
"Oh, be quiet!" cried Bob. "You 're
a-scaring Balaam all to bits. See him trem-
ble ?" In point of fact, whether it was the
thunder or the lightning or the new road or
Joshua's fearful tales, Balaam was plainly very
much frightened. He drew his legs together
and shook all over, as a horse does when he
is about to bolt; and then, as a blinding flash lit
up the woods with a lurid glare, and the thunder
rolled around among the hills like the sound of
Waterloo battles, and the rain began to descend
in torrents, Balaam took the bit in his teeth
and ran away. He dashed off the stony path,
struck into the very heart of the forest, over
trunks and rocks, until some sixty yards on he
came to grief, and the climax arrived. The
cart struck a big birch. Over it went, and spilled
the boys, and Balaam, kicking, braying, strug-
gling, but helpless, wedged tightly between
two high trees, waited for his fate.
Coward cried Joshua in a rage.
"Poor old thing! said Bob soothingly. "I
don't wonder he 's scared. It is pretty bright
at times, is n't it, Joshua ? My, that was a big
one!" as Balaam leaped again almost out of
his harness. "He 's only a poor animal and
he does not know--as we do-that it 's no
use being frightened. It does not do any
"I think he smelt a b'ar," said Joshua. "They
do smell 'em horses, ponies, donkeys, and
such; and it just scares 'em blind and deef."
If Balaam were only blind and deaf he 'd


be all right," said Bob. It's the lightning -
there, I have it! and he began pulling off his
heavy white sweater with the big red letters
F. S. on the breast. Lend a hand, Joshua!"
So Joshua lent a hand, recalling the fact that
" when horses was scared folks did tie they
eyes up "; and so Balaam was tied up as to his
eyes and whole head in a mass of white woolen,
with the two vivid scarlet initials branded on
his forehead, and the sleeves of the sweater
meeting securely under his head-stall behind
his ears.
Poor beast," said Bob, who loved animals.
"There now!" and he patted Balaam gently on
one side, while Joshua stood on the other, beat-
ing a nervous tattoo on the sweater. The don-
key quieted a little. The boys dragged away
the dilapidated cart, and left him, braying at
intervals, not yet recovered from his paroxysm
of terror.
Bob and Joshua sat on the edge of the cart,
side by side, till a vivid flash recalled to their
minds the fact that the wheel was rimmed with
iron, remembering which they both sprang to
see if Balaam needed care, and then huddled
under the same tree with him, as if there were
safety in numbers.
It's the way God takes to look at the world,
I think," said Bob after a pause.
"He 's a-lookin' at the world all the time,"
said Joshua. Did n't you know that ?"
"Do you know how many worlds he has to
look after ? asked Bob scornfully. "Well, go
to the Fay school and you '11 find out."
Say, don't let 's talk any more about God,"
whispered Joshua. Hush, what's that ? for
a great crash and crackle sounded very near
"A tree struck," Bob called out boldly.
Hope there's no cow-panthers up it," mused
the black boy. "She 'd be looking' for a new
home, 'bout now, I s'pose."
You be quiet," said Bob, "and don't you
say cow-panthers' again; no, nor bears either.
Creatures all go to their holes when it rains.
They don't like it better than than Balaam
No more do I," said Joshua, "and I
would n't mind having a little den of my own
jist now. 'T would n't sound loud down there,

would it ? An' you would n't see this blamed
I would not call it names," said Bob, look-
ing about him uneasily.
I guess this is the side of the mountain that
always gets struck. There 's always one side,
you know."
Another crash farther away, and Balaam
brayed again. The boys shivered and sat si-
Say, Bob," began Joshua, I wish I had n't
talked 'bout goin' into a hole in the ground.
It makes me think of-you know what. What's
that ? "
Far down below them, coming through the
woods, was a light two lights, very near the
ground and pretty close together.
"It 's a b'ar's eyes, a-shining in the dark,"
whispered Joshua.
Oh, will you be still ? asked Bob. It
can't be that, but it might, be some kind of
queer lightning. There 's ball lightning, you
know," he continued in a scientific tone, "and
zigzag lightning they have, and -"
"An' grease' lightning," put in the black boy.
"And it might be going for something iron,
perhaps," added Bob.
"The cart wheels," cried Joshua. "It 's
coming for the cart wheels-or us- Oh, it 's
the devil sure enough "; and the negro in him
coming to the fore, he screamed at the top of
his lungs.
A flash of lightning lit up the scene. One
of the spectators will never forget it. The
heavy swaying tree-tops, the overturned cart,
Balaam with his white head and branded let-
ters, and two little boys, one white, one black,
staring wide-eyed, looking fearfully down the
"Is that you, Bob dear?" called a very
cheerful, happy little voice. And then the boys
heard a laugh, gay and unafraid and natural,
and saw before their eyes--a lantern in each
hand the straight, small figure of Bob's mo-
ther. She had on a very smart mackintosh,
and a soft felt hat, and had quite the air of
starting on a very pleasant day, for a little trip
somewhere. Bob saw, however, that her eyes
shone like stars, yet she did not even kiss him.
I thought I would walk up and meet you




boys I always like to walk in the rain. And
what have you done with your sweater, Bob ? "
I put it on Balaam, he was so afraid, poor
"Put it on Balaam ? Why, I should think it
would be too small."
Oh, no; the sleeves would just fit his ears."
"Well, we 'd better go down the mountain
now," said Bob's mother cheerfully.
"And leave Balaam ? "
"Certainly, leave Balaam. He can stay
where he is until morning. I 'm not pleased
with Balaam. He has behaved very badly.
He should have kept in the road."
It was partly our fault, mama," said Bob.
"We wanted to see the top of the mountain,
and I don't think he could help being afraid.
It was pretty terrible."
Terrible ? Fine, great, you mean," and
Bob's mother took a hand of each little boy
and led them out to the mountain top, for they
were really there. Look !" And when the
next flash came they all looked, and not even
Balaam said a word. Such is the contagion of
courage. Bob glanced at his mother curiously.
Why, I should think you 'd have been afraid,"
he said. "You don't like snakes, you know,
or the dark, and I 've seen you shut your eyes
in a thunderstorm when you thought I was not
But that was in the house, Bob," said his
mother. It 's very different out of doors."
By this time they were well on their way
down the mountain. The little woman still
held a warm, boyish hand in each of hers -a
black one in her left, a white one in her right -
and Bob and Joshua carried the two lanterns.
They were all very gay and cozy and jolly, and
it seemed a great lark. Laughter rang out
when Bob asked his mother why she brought
two lanterns. "I did not think they were likely
to be blown out both at once," she replied.
If they had, the lightning could have started
them up again," said her son drily.
Oh, I have matches," said the mother.
"What is there to be afraid of? "asked Bob.
Yes, what ? echoed Joshua.
At this moment a loud tread was heard be-
hind them. It seemed like the rapid run of
some large animal, and it distinctly gained

on them, for the slipping stones and crashing
branches came nearer. A moment of silence
in which all pretended bravely to hear nothing,
and then "What's that ? cried both boys.
That ? answered Joshua, in terror, but tri-
umph, that 's a b'ar I told you so!"
"It is n't a bear, is it, mama ? asked Bob.
No, it is not, my dear. I think not. But if
it is, God will protect us, and we'll protect our-
selves, too. There are a great many things we
can do to divert it. It 's only after the lights,
and we will put them quickly right here in the
middle of the road, and then we '11 just stand
aside, and let the creature pass."
The little lanterns were placed side by side
in the stony path, and the woman and children
stepped into the edge of the woods.
It is a b'ar," whispered Joshua.
"And if it is, it won't touch us. Only mother
bears with their young cubs meddle with people,
and this is not the time for young animals to
be with their mothers, is it, mama ?" said Bob.
No, Bob, no; it is not," said Bob's mother.
"Now, my darling, stand a little behind me,
and if she he it should see us, do you
boys each skin up a tree."
"Shin up, you mean, mama!" said Bob,
giggling even at that painful moment.
"Don't get hysterical, Bob," called his mo-
ther. "Don't! I could n't stand that. Here
she comes stand behind me! "
No," said Bob, in a fit of sudden bravery;
"you standbehind me, mama. It's my place
ahead, and, besides, I don't mind him much.
I always did rather like wild animals, you
know"; and plucky Bob stepped out toward
the lanterns just in time to welcome Balaam as
he frantically dashed toward them, the sweater
and his long ears flying in the wind.
So they walked home, all four of them, very
contentedly. Balaam with his head on Joshua's
shoulder; for Bob was taken up with his mother,
who, he discovered, had been a dandy little
mother and no mistake." He proposed stop-
ping at one of the cottages for her sake, but the
small woman remembered that Joshua had a
mother, too the cook at the Club-house,
and she might be frightened. So they went all
the way down, laughing and chatting as merrily
as if they were at an afternoon tea in town.





WHAT are the mystic sparks that steal
Through hedges and lanes on summer nights?
Why, the elves and brownies are all awheel,
And these are their fairy 'cycle lights!




WHAT are the mystic sparks that steal
Through hedges and lanes on summer nights?
Why, the elves and brownies are all awheel,
And these are their fairy 'cycle lights!



II. How You MOVE.

ALL healthy boys and girls move about and
use their bodies a great deal. If we see a child
sitting and doing nothing, with feet and hands
still, and not speaking a word, we think there
must be something wrong that he is ill. I
dare say you are often told that you move about
too much, your tongues as well as your feet
making too much noise sometimes, so that
grown-up people say: "Oh, children, do be
quiet! or Do try to make less noise !"
Just think for a moment what parts of your
bodies can move. When you walk or run,
your legs and feet move, and when you throw
or take hold of something, your arms and hands
move. Now keep your arms and legs still, and
see what other parts of you can move. Your
head, I am sure you will say at once, as you
nod or shake it. Then keep your head still,
and see-what else is moving. Your eyes can
still look half around the room, and you can
move your eyelids up and down. Your lips
can move to smile, and your tongue to talk and
laugh; your jaw, the big bone that makes your
chin, can move to eat. Can you move any
other part of your face? Your nose? Yes,
just a little; and your ears ? Perhaps some of
you can, but probably most of you cannot.
Even if you try to keep as still as possible,
you can't help some parts of your body moving.
Just try. You will soon find that your eyelids
close quickly over your eyes, and that you can-
not keep them from doing so for very long.
And even if every part outside your body is
still, some part inside is always moving. Your
chest is rising and falling as you breathe; your
heart is beating; your blood is rushing through
the little pipes all over your body; and many
other parts inside you are moving whose move-
ments you cannot feel.
Now what is it that makes all these different

parts move? Perhaps you will say: "Imake
them move when I like"; but although you
may be said to make your leg or arm move
when you walk or catch hold of something, you
do not make your heart move; and even if, as
you say, you do make your leg and arm move,
I want you to know how you make them move.
When we spoke, in our last talk, of the differ-
ent things of which your bodies are made, we
mentioned the red muscle that lies everywhere
under the skin, forming pads sometimes, and
sometimes a kind of ropes. These ropes of
muscle are very important, for it is they that
move your arms and legs, and other parts of your
body. These fleshy ropes are fastened at both
ends; near each end the rope gets rather thinner,
and turns into a sort of strong cord which is
called a tendon, and these tendons are fastened
to bones; they are not tied on, but they and
the bones grow together. But though we have
called muscles fleshy ropes, they are quite un-
like ordinary ropes in one way, for they have a
curious power of suddenly growing shorter and
thicker. When a muscle draws itself together
in this way, it is said to contract.
You can feel a muscle shorten and thicken if
you like. Stretch your right arm out straight,
then lay your left hand on it just inside and a
little above the elbow, and hold firmly. Now
suddenly bend up your right arm, and what do
you feel ? Something hard rises up under your
left hand. That is the muscle which is fastened
at one end to the upper part of your arm bone,
and at the other to one of the two bones of the
lower part of your arm, just below your elbow.
When you wished or willed it, this muscle sud-
denly grew short and thick, that is, it contracted,
and so pulled the lower part of your arm up.
Look at the two figures I have drawn of an
arm. In Fig. i, the lower part of the arm lies
out flat, as it would if resting on a table, the el-
bow being half bent. SH-is the shoulder joint,


and EL the elbow joint, and M is the muscle
which passes from the upper to the lower part
of the arm. T, T, T are the tendons by which
the muscle is made fast. In Fig. 2, all is the
same, except that the muscle has changed its
shape and is much rounder and shorter than it
was in Fig. i. By growing thicker and shorter,
it has pulled the lower part of the arm up.
Now you can understand that muscles, by con-


tracting, bend your arm (or leg) if they are on
one side of the joint, and straighten it if they
are on the other.
You have hundreds of muscles in different
parts of your bodies, all contracting when neces-
sary. All your bones are moved by means of
muscles, and all the different machines of which
we spoke last time your stomach, heart, lungs
- are worked with their help. Some of these
muscles, as we have already said, go on working
just the same whether you are awake or asleep.
You not only need to use your muscles to
walk or run, but you have to use them even to
stand and sit straight. Have you ever watched
any one go to sleep sitting in a chair, and seen
what happened? His head first nodded when
he began to feel sleepy, and then when he really
slept, it fell forward on his chest. Why ? Be-
cause, to keep the head upright, some of the
neck muscles have to be contracted, and when
you fall asleep, you lose the power of making
some of your muscles do their work. This is
why it is so tiring to stand for a long time, and
why lying down is such a rest, because when

lying, especially on a soft bed, all your muscles
can rest, except those which never rest, like
those of the heart. During sleep, however,
even your heart gets a kind of rest because it
beats much more slowly.
We all have to learn to use our muscles
rightly. Perhaps you have a tiny brother or
sister whom you saw when it was only a day or
two old. Do you remember how its little head


always had to have something under it, because
the baby could not hold it up ? It learned to
hold it up after a few weeks, but it took much
longer to learn to use some of its other muscles
-to stand, to walk, and to run. You all had
once to learn how to do these things which
now seem so easy.
If we use our muscles very much, they be-
come strong and thick. Have you seen a
strong man rowing? If you can see his bare
arm, you can watch how the muscles rise up
like thick ropes as he works with them.
When we speak of some one being strong, we
mean that his muscles have grown powerful
by being a great deal used. All of you children
need to walk and run about so as to strengthen
your muscles. If you were to lie down most
of the day, and hardly use your legs and arms
at all, your muscles would grow thin and soft,
and soon you would not be able to use them
any better than your baby brother or sister could
at first.
You now know that you are helped to make
all your movements by the contracting of your



muscles; but what is it that makes your mus-
cles contract ?
Do you remember the fine white threads we
mentioned in our last talk the nerves, which
run through every part of your flesh ? These
all come from that wonderful machine in your
head, your brain, or from a long nerve-string
which passes from it down your backbone, and
it is these which bring a message to the muscles
when it is necessary for them to contract. They
are like wonderful, living telegraph-wires carry-
ing messages. Sometimes it seems to you as if

you yourself sent the message because you know
what is going on in your brain; but at other
times the brain may work and the nerves may
be carrying their messages without your know-
ing anything about it. If your brain were hurt,
so that it could not work, not one of your mus-
cles would be able to contract.
So you are able to walk and run because
your muscles can contract; and they, in con-
tracting, are only obeying messages sent .to
them through the nerves which run to them
from that wonderful brain that rules your body.

(To be continued.)



-- H E R E are many varieties of
.la ts which plainly move
S their leaves or flowers,
but the movements
these make are
confined to an ex-
it oi o pension or con-
i traction of the fi-
bers only. The
plant as a whole
remains fixed in its original place. The Jump-
ing Bean, as it is called, possesses a more as-
tonishing power; for it can and does change
its position from one spot to another. Some
time ago I came into possession of one of these
beans, and was much interested and amused by
its actions.
The bean is of triangular shape. It has two
flat surfaces and one convex surface, and its ap-
pearance gives no hint of the powers inclosed
within it. In size it is about equal to a large
currant. The convex surface of the bean is
coffee colored; the flat surfaces, the shade ot
hay. The general shape of the bean is that of
an apple which has been cut away until only
about two-fifths of it are left. Its likeness to an

apple is further carried out in the irregularly
shaped core of a lighter color than the surround-
ing portions of the bean, which covers about
one-third of its flat surfaces.
To all appearance, however, the bean is solid.
There is no hole or crack in the shell which
snugly covers it. The bean before me looks
to-day just as it did when I first saw it, two
months ago, and, I am told, it looked then ex-
actly as it did when taken from its place of
growth in one of the Mexican States, which is
the only region in which it is found. Each of
these beans has as companions two others
which grow with it in one pod or berry; but of
these three beans only one has any power of
movement. The berries are the fruit of a pe-
culiar species of tree.
The bean appears to have several kinds of
movement. The most common movement is a
sort of somersault, by which, when laid on one
of its flat sides, it turns itself over on the oppo-
site side, or perhaps on the convex side. The
next is an actual jump, by which the bean rises
from whatever it has been resting on, some-
times an eighth of an inch, and kicks itself ahead
a quarter of an inch or so.



The third movement is an oscillating one,
which is continued for a brief period, and
then ceases, or ends in the complete somersault.
Each one of these movements is unmistakable,
though performed in no regular order. More-
over, at times, the bean appears to be disin-
clined to move, and, even when placed in the
sun, which usually encourages it to perform,
lies perfectly still for several minutes. Again,
it will be extremely lively, and jump, rock, and
slide forward and backward with hardly a stop.
It would seem, too, that a very vigorous action
tires it, as, after making a series of big jumps,
it usually rests for a period before continuing
its movements.
The best way to observe these movements
is to put the bean in the sun for a few minutes,
and then place it on a piece of white paper.
Sometimes I have marked a circle as big as a
half dollar on a sheet of foolscap and laid the
bean within it. In fifteen minutes to a half
hour the bean would have traveled entirely
across the paper, or perhaps have moved to
that distance and then back again to its first
position. Apparently there is no system in
its movements; for at one time it would proceed
forward almost in a direct line; at another,
jump up and down and scarcely progress at all.
If placed in a small pasteboard box and the lid
left open, its movements could be distinctly
heard as it scraped against the rough surface
of the box.
Why the bean moves about has not, I believe,
been discovered positively. It is known, how-
ever, that in each of the Jumping Beans is a
tiny worm. This worm is said to measure
about one-third of an inch in length, and one-

tenth in width, and has sixteen feet. How it
gets into the bean, since there is no hole in
the latter, is a puzzle; but it seems likely
that the egg from which the worm came was
laid in the bean while it was yet soft and in its
blossom form, and that the worm itself did not
hatch until the shell had developed about the
berry. The worm does not appear to want to
get out of its nest either; for, if any hole, how-
ever small, is made in the shell of the bean, at
once the inmate weaves a covering like a cob-
web over the opening. The question then is:
if Mr. Worm likes his home so well, why does
he kick so vigorously against its walls ? It is,
of course, possible that he is merely taking ex-
ercise, and that the warmth of the sun or the ef-
fect of the light striking through the walls wakens
him up, and makes him active. However it is,
he manages, at times, to make his home go
through some curious performances, and, by
throwing his weight on one side or the other of
it, causes it to tumble over and over, now on
the side which looks like its roof, now on that
which might be called its foundations. Mr.
Worm usually lives only ten to twelve months,
even when his house is given a regular sun-
bath every day or so; but what does he live
on, and how does he secure air ?
Some naturalists say that he secures air
through the pores in the shell of the bean, and
lives on the kernel of the bean itself. They
give, as a reason for his movements, that in his
native land an insect which always lives near
the tree which bears these beans eats up Mr.
Worm by boring through the shell of his house,
and that it is to escape from these enemies that
the worm kicks about in such lively fashion.

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VOL. XXIII.--2o.





[Begtn in t ne June number ]



LEAVING Turkestan, and entering China to
the eastward of Kashgar and Yarkand, Marco
Polo crossed the western end of the Great
Sandy Desert of Gobi, or Shamo, otherwise
known to the Chinese as the Sea of Sand.
This vast extent of desert extends over forty
degrees of latitude, and has never been fully
explored even in our own day. In Marco's
time it was a haunt of mystery, thought to be
peopled by the strange creatures of the air.
That part traversed by Marco is narrow, and
he crossed it in a southwesterly direction. Here
is his account of the Desert of Lop, or, as it is
sometimes called, Lob:

Lop is a large town at the edge of the Desert, which is
called the Desert of Lop, and is situated between east
and north-east. It belongs to the Great Kaan, and the
people worship Mahommet. Now, such persons as pro-
pose to cross the Desert take a week's rest in this town
to refresh themselves and their cattle; and then they
make ready for the journey, taking with them a month's
supply for man and beast. On quitting this city they en-
ter the Desert.
The length of this Desert is so great that 't is said it
would take a year and more to ride from one end of it to
the other. And here, where its breadth is least, it takes
a month to cross it. 'T is all composed of hills and val-
leys of sand, and not a thing to eat is to be found on it.
But after riding for a day and a night you find fresh water,
enough mayhap for some fifty or a hundred persons with
their beasts, but not for more. And all across the Des-
ert you will find water in like manner, that is to say, in
some twenty-eight places altogether you will find good
water, but in no great quantity; and in four places also
you find brackish water
Beasts there are none; for there is naught for them to
eat. But there is a marvellous thing related of this Des-
ert, which is that when travellers are on the move by
night, and one of them chances to lag behind, or to fall
asleep or the like, when he tries to gain his company
again he will hear spirits talking, and will suppose them

to be his comrades. Sometimes the spirits will call him
by name; and thus shall a traveller ofttimes be led astray
so that he never finds his party. And in this way many
have perished. Sometimes the stray travellers will hear
as it were the tramp and hum of a great cavalcade of
people away from the real line of road, and taking this
to be their own company they will follow the sound; and
when day breaks they find that a cheat has been put on
them and that they are in an ill plight. Even in the day-
time one hears those spirits talking. And sometimes
you shall hear the sound of a variety of musical instru-
ments, and still more commonly the sound of drums.
Hence in making this journey 't is customary for trav-
ellers to keep close together. All the animals too have
bells at their necks, so that they.cannot easily get astray.
And at sleeping-time a signal is put up to show the di-
rection of the next march.
So thus it is that the Desert is crossed.

It is likely that this tale of the desert, told by
Marco Polo, was one of those which gave him
a bad name among people who were ignorant
of what really goes on in the midst of a vast
desert. From the earliest times men have as-
sociated deserts of land or sea with mystery;
and all sorts of evil spirits were believed to in-
habit the waste places of the earth. And those
who heard Marco's stories, or read them after-
ward, thought that they were the idle tales of
oriental romancers.
But it is true, nevertheless, that strange
sounds are often produced by the shifting of the
sands, especially in the night, after a hot day,
when the sand cools and the wind blows. It
would be easy for a superstitious person to be-
lieve that these sounds were the voices of un-
seen creatures in the air. Sometimes the sounds
are like those of a bell, or of a drum: and sci-
entific writers have described the places where
they have been heard in various parts of the
In the story of The Boy Emigrants," pub-
lished in ST. NICHOLAS, in 1876, the author
tells of a lad who hears, in the midst of the
Great American Desert, as it was once called,


the nine-o'clock bell ringing in his New
'England home, far away. This really hap-
pened, and the author of the book actually
thought he heard the bell ring. So, too, the
same party of boy emigrants saw what they
thought were trees, water, and lovely hills float-
ing just above the edge of the desert. That
was a mirage; and people have seen on the sea-
coast a strange apparition of towers, palaces,
and lofty pinnacles, most beautiful to behold.
This is a natural phenomenon, and is called the
fata Morgana. So much for this "marvelous"
story, which no doubt has been called one of
Marco Polo's lies."
In what he says about the fabulous salamander
you will find some more truth; but he uses it
to put to ridicule an ancient fable. Here is his
Chingintalas is also a province at the verge of the
Desert, and lying between northwest and north. It
has an extent of sixteen days' journey, and belongs to
the Great Kaan, and contains numerous towns and vil-
lages. There are three different races of people in it -
Idolaters, Saracens, and some Nestorian Christians. At
the northern extremity of this province there is a moun-
tain in which are excellent veins of steel and ondanique.
And you must know that in the same mountain there is
a vein of the substance from which Salamander is made.
For the real truth is that the Salamander is no beast, as
they allege in our part of the world, but is a substance
found in the earth; and I will tell you about it.
Everybody must be aware that it can be no animal's
nature to live in fire, seeing that every animal is com-
posed of all the four elements. Now I, Marco Polo, had a
Turkish acquaintance of the name of Zurficar, and he
was a very clever fellow. And this Turk related how
he had lived three years in that region on behalf of the
Great Kaan, in order to procure those Salamanders for
him. He said that the way they got them was by dig-
ging in that mountain till they found a certain vein.
The substance of this vein was then taken and crushed,
and when so treated it divides as it were into fibres of
wool, which they set forth to dry. When dry, these
fibres were pounded in a great copper mortar, and then
washed, so as to remove all the earth, and to leave only
the fibres like fibres of wool. These were then spun,
and made into napkins. When first made, these nap-
kins are not very white, but by putting them into the
fire for a while they come out as white as snow. And
so again whenever they become dirty they are bleached
by being put in the fire.
Now this, and naught else, is the truth about the
Salamander, and the people of the country all say the
same. Any other account of the matter is fabulous non-
sense. And I may add that they have at Rome a nap-
kin of this stuff, which the Grand Kaan sent to the Pope.

Modern geographers are uncertain as to the
precise location of the province of Chingintalas;
but it is probable that it lies somewhere east
of Kamul, in Chinese Tartary. The story of
the salamander, an animal which could pass
unharmed through the fire, is one of the oldest
in the world. The ancient Greeks believed in
it; and in the middle ages it was believed that
the salamander's body was covered with a soft
white wool which could be made into threads,
and spun and woven into cloth; But the gen-
eral belief was that the creature was like a
lizard in shape; and it was said that if one
would keep a fire burning for one whole year
and one day without its ever once going out,
a salamander would appear in the live coals to
play about.
So far as we know, Marco Polo was the first
to dispose of this fable, and tell the truth about
the salamander. The stuff called by the Tar-
tars "salamander's wool" was merely asbestos,
a mineral substance with a considerable fiber,
which can be spun out and woven. It is in-
destructible by fire; and the crude mass may
be cleaned and made into sheets for various
purposes, such as wrapping steam-pipes and
water-pipes, as is done in our own country. The
salamander is heard of no more. The ondani-
que" of which our traveler speaks is a very
superior kind of iron ore from which the orien-
tals made their famous steel sword blades,
which were of so exceeding fine temper that a
blade could be doubled into a loop without its



Now we come to a fabulous personage whose
existence was generally believed in by Euro-
peans for hundreds of years and up to the time
of Columbus. This was Prester John, a Chris-
tian prince, who was supposed to reign over a
rich and powerful kingdom somewhere in Cen-
tral Asia east of Armenia and Persia," which
is a pretty vague way of putting the case.
Sometimes he was said to reign on the eastern
coast of Africa; and his name was shortened
from Presbyter to Prester. Several European
potentates sent letters to Prester John, and



tried to find him and his kingdom. But the
mysterious sovereign was never found. What
Marco Polo says about Prester John, therefore,
must be taken with many degrees of allowance
for the superstitions of the time. What he says
about Jenghiz Khan, however, is worthy of
respect and belief; and this account of the
origin of the Mongol Empire is interesting,
for this is history which Marco gives us now.


Now it came to pass in the year 1187 that the Tartars
made them a King whose name was CHINGHIS KAAN.
He was a man of great worth, and of great ability, elo-
quence, and valor. And as soon as the news that he had
been chosen King was spread abroad through those
countries, all the Tartars in the world came to him and
owned him for their Lord. And right well did he main-
tain the Sovereignty they had given him. What shall I
say ? The Tartars gathered to him in astonishing mul-
titude, and when he saw such numbers he made a great
furniture of spears and arrows and such other arms as
they used, and setabout the conquest of all those regions
till he had conquered eight provinces. When he con-
quered a province he did no harm to the people or their
property, but merely established some of his own men in
the country along with a proportion of theirs, whilst he
led the remainder to the conquest of other provinces.
And when those whom he had conquered became aware
how well and safely he protected them against all others,
and how they suffered no ill at his hands, and saw what a
noble prince he was, then they joined him heart and soul
and became his devoted followers. And when he had
thus gathered such a multitude that they seemed to cover
the earth, he began to think of conquering a great part
of the world. Now in the year 1200 he sent an embassy
to Prester John, and desired to have his daughter to
wife. But when Prester John heard that Chinghis Kaan
demanded his daughter in marriage he waxed very wroth,
and said to the Envoys: "What impudence is this, to
ask my daughter to wife ? Wist he not well that he was
my liegeman and serf ? Get ye back to him and tell him
that I had liever set my daughter in the fire than give
her in marriage to him, and that he deserves death at
my hand, rebel and traitor that he is So he bade the
Envoys begone at once, and never come into his pres-
ence again. The Envoys, on receiving this reply, de-
parted straightway, and made haste to their master, and
related all that Prester John had ordered them to say,
keeping nothing back.


When Chinghis Kaan heard the brutal message that
Prester John had sent him, such rage seized him that his
heart came nigh to bursting within him, for he was a

man of a very lofty spirit. At last he spoke, and that so
loud that all who were present could hear him: "Never
more might he be prince if he took not revenge for the
brutal message of Prester John, and such revenge that
insult never in this world was so dearly paid for. And
before long Prester John should know whether he were
his serf or no! "
So then he mustered all his forces, and levied such a
host as never before was seen or heard of, sending word
to Prester John to be on his defence. And when Pres-
ter John had sure tidings that Chinghis was really com-
ing against him with such a multitude, he still professed
to treat it as a jest and a trifle, for, quoth he, These be
no soldiers." Natheless he marshalled his forces and
mustered his people, and made great preparations, in
order that if Chinghis did come, he might take him and
put him to death. In fact, he marshalled such an host
of many different nations that it was a world's wonder.
And so both sides gat them ready to battle. Chinghis
Kaan with all his host arrived at a vast and beautiful
plain which was called TANDUC, belonging to Prester
John, and there he pitched his camp; and so great was
the multitude of his people that it was impossible to
number them. And when he got tidings that Prester
John was coming, he rejoiced greatly, for the place af-
forded a fine and ample battle-ground, so he was right
glad to tarry for him there, and greatly longed for his


Now the story goes that when Prester John became
aware that Chinghis with his host was marching against
him, he went forth to meet him with all his forces, and
advanced until he reached the same plane of Tanduc,
and pitched his camp over against that of Chinghis Kaan,
at a distance of twenty miles. And then both armies re-
mained at rest for two days that they might be fresher
and heartier for battle.
So when the two great hosts were pitched on the
plains of Tanduc as you have heard, Chinghis Kaan one
day summoned before him his astrologers, both Chris-
tians and Saracens, and desired them to let him know
which of the two hosts would gain the battle, his own
or Prester John's. The Saracens tried to ascertain, but
were unable to give a true answer; the Christians, how-
ever, did give a true answer, and showed manifestly be-
forehand how the event should be. For they got a cane
and split it lengthwise, and laid one half on this side and
one half on that, allowing no one to touch the pieces.
And one piece of cane they called Chinghis Kaan, and
the other piece they called Prester John. And then they
said to Chinghis: "Now mark! and you will see the-
event of the battle, and who shall have the best of it;
for whose cane soever shall get above the other, to him.
shall victory be." He replied that he would fain see it,
and bade them begin. Then the Christian astrologers.
read a Psalm out of the Psalter, and went through other
incantations. And lo! whilst all were beholding, the-
cane that bore the name of Chinghis Kaan, without





being touched by anybody, advanced to the other that
bore the name of Prester John, and got on the top of it.
When the Prince saw that, he was greatly delighted, and
seeing how in this matter he found the Christians to tell
the truth, he always treated them with great respect, and
held them for men of truth forever after.


And after both sides had rested well those two days
they armed for the fight and engaged in desperate com-

It is difficult to understand that Christian"
men were among the astrologers who practised
magical arts to find out whether the Great
Khan or his adversary would be victorious in
the battle that was to be fought. We know,
however, that Jenghiz Khan was one of the
mighty conquerors of that age; and that he was
the victor in the fight with the so-called Prester
John we need have no doubt. Rods and
wands have been used for divining purposes all


bat; and it was the greatest battle that ever was seen.
The numbers that were slain on both sides were very
great, but in the end Chinghis Kaan obtained the victory.
And in the battle Prester John was slain. And from
that time forward, day by day, his kingdom passed into
the hands of Chinghis Kaan till the whole was conquered.
I may tell you that Chinghis Kaan reigned six years
after this battle, engaged continually in conquest, and
taking many a province and city and stronghold. But
at the end of those six years he went against a certain
castle that was called CAAJU, and there he was shot
with an arrow in the knee, so that he died of his wound.
A great pity it was, for he was a valiant man and a wise.

over the world, and in some parts of the world
they are used to this day; not only in Oriental
countries, where the people are ignorant and
superstitious, but in America. Money-diggers,
or men hunting for buried treasure, pretend to
find the gold underground by means of divin-
ing rods; and others hunt for water with wands,
or forked sticks from a green tree, the notion
being that the stick will bend down to the
earth when the diviner" walks over an under-
ground spring.





MARCO is now on familiar ground, and the
accounts which he gives us of the manners and
customs of the Tartars, both in peace and war,
are not only entertaining but true to life.


Now that we have begun to speak of the Tartars, I
have plenty to tell you on that subject. The Tartar cus-
tom is to spend the winter in warm plains, where they
find good pasture for their cattle, whilst in summer they
betake themselves to a cool climate among the moun-
tains and valleys, where water is to be found as well as
woods and pastures.
Their houses are circular, and are made of wands
covered with felts. These are carried along with them
whithersoever they go; for the wands are so strongly
bound together, and likewise so well combined, that the
frame can be made very light. Whenever they erect
these huts the door is always to the south. They also
have wagons covered with black felt so efficaciously that
no rain can get in. These are drawn by oxen and
camels, and the women and children travel in them.
The women do the buying and selling, and whatever is
necessary to provide for the husband and household;
for the men all lead the life of gentlemen, troubling
themselves about nothing but hunting and hawking, and
looking after their goshawks and falcons, unless it be
the practice of warlike exercises.
They live on the milk and meat which their herds
supply, and on the produce of the chase; and they eat
all kinds of flesh, including that of horses and dogs, and
Pharaoh's rats, of which last there are great numbers in
burrows on those plains.


All their harness of war is excellent and costly. Their
arms are bows and arrows, sword and mace; but above
all the bow, for they are capital archers, indeed the best
that are known. On their backs they wear armor of
cuirbouly, prepared from buffalo and other hides, which
is very strong. They are excellent soldiers, and passing
valiant in battle. They are also more capable of hard-
ships than other nations; for -many a time, if need be,
they will go for a month without any supply of food,
except milk and such game as their bows may win
them. Their horses also will subsist entirely on the
.grass of the plains, so that there is no need to carry
store of barley or straw or oats : and they are very
docile to their riders. These, in case of need, will
abide on horseback the livelong night, armed at all
points, while the horse will be continually grazing.
Of all troops in the world these are they which endure

the greatest hardship and fatigue, and which cost the
least; and they are the best of all for making wide con-
quests of country. And this you will perceive from
what you have heard and shall hear in this book; and
(as a fact) there can be no manner of doubt that now
they are the masters of the biggest half of the world.
Their troops are admirably ordered in the manner that
I shall now relate.
You see, when a Tartar prince goes forth to war, he
takes with him, say, Ioo,ooo horse. Well, he appoints
an officer to every ten men, one to every hundred, one
to every thousand, and one to every ten thousand, so
that his own orders have to be given to ten persons only,
and each of these ten persons has to pass the orders
only to other ten, and so on; no one having to give
orders to more than ten. And every one in turn is re-
sponsible only to the officer immediately over him; and
the discipline and order that comes of this method is
marvellous, for they are a people very obedient to their
chiefs. Further, they call the corps of 1oo,ooo men a
Tuc; that of Io,ooo they call a Toman; the thousand
they call Miny; the hundred Guz; the ten On. And
when the army is on the march they have always 200
horsemen, very well mounted, who are sent a distance
of two marches in advance to reconnoitre, and these
always keep ahead. They have a similar party de-
tached in the rear, and on either flank, so that there is a
good lookout kept on all sides against a surprise.
When they are going on a distant expedition they take
no gear with them except two leather bottles for milk, a
little earthenware pot to cook their meat in, and a little
tent to shelter them from rain. And in case of great
urgency they will ride ten days without lighting a fire
or taking a meal.
They also have milk dried into a kind of paste to carry
with them; and when they need food they put this into
water, and beat it up till it dissolves, and then drink it.
It is prepared in this way: they boil the milk, and when
the rich part floats on the top they skim it into another
vessel, and of that they make butter; for the milk will
not become solid till this is removed. Then they put the
milk into the sun to dry. And when they go on an ex-
pedition, every man takes some ten pounds of this dried
milk with him. And of a morning he will take a half
pound of it and put it in his leather bottle, with as
much water as he pleases. So, as he rides along, the
milk-paste and the water in the bottle get well churned
together into a kind of pap, and that makes his dinner.
When they come to an engagement with the enemy,
they will gain the victory in this fashion. They never
let themselves get into a regular medley, but keep per-
petually riding round and shootingintothe enemy. And
as they do not count it any shame to run away in battle,
they will sometimes pretend to do so, and in running
away they turn in the saddle and shoot hard and strong
at the foe, and in this way make great havoc. Their
horses are trained so perfectly that they will double hither
and thither, just like a dog, in a way that is quite aston-
ishing. Thus they fight to as good purpose in running
away as if they stood and faced the enemy, because of



the vast volleys of arrows that they shoot in this way,
turning round upon their pursuers, who are fancying
that they have won the battle. But when the Tartars
see that they have killed and wounded a good many
horses and men, they wheel round bodily, and return to
the charge in perfect order and with loud cries; and in
a very short time the enemy are routed. In truth they
are stout and valiant soldiers, and inured to war. And
you perceive that it is just when the enemy sees them
run, and imagines that he has gained the battle, that he
has in reality lost it; for the Tartars wheel round in a
moment when they judge the right time has come. And
after this fashion they have won many a fight.
All this that I have been telling you is true of the
manners and customs of the genuine Tartars. But I
must add also that in these days they are greatly degen-
erated; for those who are settled in Cathay have taken
up the practices of the Idolaters of the country, and
have abandoned their own institutions; whilst those who
have settled in the Levant have adopted the customs of
the Saracens.

The huts in which the Tartars lived in Marco
Polo's time were just like those used to-day by
the wandering tribes of Central Asia. These
slight houses were built of a light frame-work
of osiers, or willow wands, bent to form a
rounded, dome-like hut; and this was covered
with felt, or cloth, made waterproof by be-
ing soaked in tallow or milk. Some of the
larger huts were built on wheels, and when the
tribe was traveling, the chiefs and their families
would ride within one of these big vehicles very
comfortably, if not luxuriously. One traveler,
Friar Rubruquis, who saw some of the Tartars
on their march, measured the space between
the wheels of one of the great wagons and

found it to be twenty feet. "The axle," he
says, was like a ship's mast, and twenty-two
oxen were yoked to the wagon eleven abreast."
One of the huts which Rubruquis saw was thirty
feet in diameter and projected ten feet beyond
the wheels.
'The animals to which Marco refers as
"Pharaoh's rats were probably a species of
marmot, very common in Egypt, Asia Minor,
and Central Asia, and sometimes called the
jerboa. Behind it is formed like a long-legged
little beast and is a famous jumper, like the
kangaroo rat, which it closely resembles. The
creature feeds on grass and roots, like our
American "prairie dog," and its flesh is es-
teemed a delicacy.
The Tartars fought with bows and arrows of
great power and weight, with which they
wrought havoc among their enemies, so that
they were known among the other nations as
"The Archers." They made shields and other
harness for warlike purposes of leather which
had been boiled and then molded to any de-
sired form while it was soft and warm. This is
the cuirbouly alluded to by Marco.
You will see that the Tartars of those far-off
days knew how to condense milk, although we
regard that process as a modern invention.
Marco says that they dried the milk in the sun.
We can understand how some of his critics
would laugh at the notion that milk could be
dried to a paste. But Marco is right for it
can be done, nevertheless.



BENNY was a little boy who lived by a river
that ran into the great ocean, and he liked to
sail ships so well that his father made him
six, all of a size, with a boom and a gaff and
two sails apiece. They were not really ships,
but he called them so. This was Benny's
fleet, and in a little cove, where the water
was not too deep nor too rough, he took
great delight in sailing his ships. They were

named "Pearl," "Phoebe," "Dolphin," Star,"
" Racer," and Kate."
Now, there was a great stirring about in
Benny's family, for grandpa, who lived away
out west, and who had a ranch there, had
written to them to come and join him, and
help him raise sheep and horses. So they be-
gan to pack up their things; but, as they could
not take all, they sold some, and some they



gave away. Papa told Benny he had better
give his ships to his playmates.'
Why, no," said Benny; I can't do without
my ships! I '11 give the boys my checkers and
my ninepins, but I can't give away my ships.
I love my ships "
And, with his mama's help, he packed them
the next day carefully in a box, along with her
five o'clock teacups.
"There is n't even a brook on the ranch!"
papa said to mama; and all the water has
to be pumped with windmills."
Never mind," she replied. Benny has to
leave the sea he loves, but he shall not leave
his ships. It may make him happy to look at
them and to remember."
In another month the little family reached
the far-off ranch, where grandpa welcomed
them. Benny was very happy. He had a
pony to ride upon, and a dog to follow him,
and some lambs were given to him for his own.
For three weeks Benny did not say one word
about his ships, but he did not forget them.
Wherever he went, he looked about to see if
there was a pond or a brook, though ever so
little, but there was not one.
Do you like it here, Benny ? asked grand-
pa, at the end of three weeks, as they stood
looking over the billowy plains. and pastures.
"Yes, grandpa, I do," said Benny, pat-

ting his dog's head. "All I want now is a
And then he told his grandpa that he had
brought six ships named Pearl, Phcebe, Dolphin,
Star, Racer, and Kate.
Grandpa whistled, and then he laughed.
"We must sail them! he exclaimed.
"But there is no water," said Benny.
"Water is not the only element, nor the only
fluid," said grandpa. "Water does n't swell
the sails."
"No, the wind does that," Benny admitted.
Grandpa now went to work and made a
frame with six arms, and on each arm he fas-
tened a ship. On the top of his barn he fixed
a strong pivot, and on the pivot he put the
frame, like a wheel on its axle. When he came
down from the ladder, a little breeze was filling
the sails, and the ships were gently careering
around. By and by it blew harder, and the
ships increased their speed. Benny shouted
for joy, and called everybody to see.
"They are going sixty knots an hour," said
his father.
So now the ships had a place where they
could sail east, west, south, north, and many a
time they went so fast that nobody could tell,
not even Benny, which was Pearl, or which
was Phcebe, or which-was Dolphin, or Star, or
Racer, or Kate.





Qc. te wiuexiceetea l3Ut he does nlo~s~e ~eott

And gets hisideoF on l;cdc!ing cooled f ut help is .1-:,I tlt



THREE brave little men, as wise as could be,
Determined to visit the depths of the sea,
And put to the test a plan of their own
Better than any the world had yet known.

So they set out from port in a basket of straw,
With glasses to study whatever they saw;

VOL. XXIII.- 121.
VoL. XXIII.- 121.

But soon through each crevice the water
soaked in,
And they sank to the goal they intended to win.

Down on the bottom they land with a bump.
" How simple!" they cry, as out they all jump;

Then each little sage sets to work with a will
In the cause of great Science long pages to fill.

AA ~ ~ -


"I would not hurt man, though man has hurt
If you look in my gills a great hook you will
"We '11 gladly remove it," the brave three re-
"If you in return will give us a ride."

"Least said soonest mended." The hook was
The fish said its health would be greatly im-
Then up through the deeps the fish takes his
While the three sit astride on their novel sea-

I am happy to say they came safely to
Somewhat sadder, no doubt, but more wise
than before,
Having learned, at some cost, that when plan-
ning to roam
It is well to provide for a way to get home.

When wearied at last, they think with concern,
"It surely is time for our homeward return."
But how to get back ? For, strange as it seems,
This problem so puzzling ne'er entered their

To increase their perplexity, fright, and dis-
A monstrous great fish came swimming that

Which made them all quake in their six lit-
tle shoes
Till the fish kindly said: "My appearance




OUR readers will remember with pleasure the Poems by a Child" printed on pages 856 and 857 of our August
number. This month we publish three more poems by Margaret Mauro. "Ye Romaunce of Ye Oldenne Tyme,"
printed on pages 918 and 919, and illustrated by Mr. Birch, is a remarkable composition for a girl of twelve, and
the two poems which follow are also very creditable indeed, considering the age of the young author.


HE sings where, bending in soft repose,
The willow-boughs rise and sink,
When the sunset glows with crimson and rose
And opal and pearl and pink.
Oh, the waving boughs that are bending o'er
So softly swayed by the wind-
With a mist of green-gray leaves before,
And a melody sweet behind!
He does not sing in the eye of day
When men are awake to hear,
And he does not trill his silver lay
Into a human ear.
But when the rest of the sweet-voiced throng
Are leaving the darkened sky,
He pours the rich incense of his song
At the altar of the Most High.
Few ears are awake to hear him sing,
Few eyes are opened to see
The bird who weaveth a silver string
For the harp of minstrelsy.
But that silver call from the willow tall
By the all-hearing ear is heard;
And he who noteth the sparrows fall
Will care for the Unknown Bird.

(Written in acknowledgment of a gift of otted plants.)
MY flowers with their sweet perfumes,
Their balmy, rustling sighs,
Op'ning their fragrant, winged blooms
And smiling to the skies;
Fair as the bright sun's dancing ray,
Whose light and warmth they seek;'
And sweeter than a minstrel's lay
The language that they speak.

First, Cinneraria's blossoms sweet
From green-wrapped buds unclose,

And where her flame-lipped petals meet
A purple center glows.
You catch the sunbeams bright that dart
Across the shadows cold,
And store them in your purple heart
Until 't is flecked with gold.

Geranium's branching stalks upturn
Their close buds to the light,
Waiting for blooms that soon will burn
With ruby colors bright.
She has not yet begun to show
Those blossoms blushing fair,
But soon her tall green tree, I know,
Some clustering fruit will bear.

Then Hyacinth's young buds begin
To show her leaves between,
As if they locked some secret in
Their tightly folded green;
But soon those buds, though folded fast,
Beginning to uncurl,
Disclose their secret sweet at last,
A blossom pure as pearl.

Fair, graceful, feathery Maidenhair,
Well hast thou won thy name.
No pearly blooms thy tall stems bear,
No blossom lipped with flame,
But the fair sky looks down to see,
With her soft eyes of blue,
More graceful, waving locks on thee,
Than ever maiden knew.

Aunt Abby, you have always known
I hold all flowers dear,
They speak with me they breathe their own
Sweet secrets in my ear;
The forest leaves could not express,
If tongues they all should be,
The daily joy and happiness
Your blossom' give to me.


CONTRIBUTORS are respectfully informed that between the ist of June and the 5sth 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.


OUR thanks are due to Mr. G. H. Yenowine for the
photographs and originals used in illustrating both of
the articles on Eugene Field in our last number. Mr.
Yenowine owns the original manuscript of Eugene
Field's first poem," Christmas Treasures," and he kindly
obtained for us the admirable photographs of Eugene
Field and his little son, Posey," and also the facsimile
copies of "Little Boy Blue and the inscription for Po-
sey's plate.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have taken you for five years
and don't know now how I could do without you. I am
eleven years old and have lived in Kansas City seven
We came here from New York when I was four years
old, too young to read you. You have been in our fam-
ily for many years, and before there was a ST. NICHOLAS
we took Our Young Folks," which afterward was
merged in ST. NICHOLAS. Mama gave me a little party
the other evening. We had such a nice time. When
school is out we can go to the parks for picnics. Some
of the Kansas City parks are very beautiful.
Some Indians who have been in Kansas City, Kan.,
came over to see our city, the other day. They were
taken to the top of one of our highest buildings, the
New York Life Insurance Building. One said, on
looking around, "Heap smoke -heap brick wigwam,
big enoughh plenty squaw, plenty pappoose." They were
frightened dreadfully when they rode down in the ele-
I look forward every month to reading you, dear ST.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am thirteen years old, and I
live at Belvidere, which is separated from the town of
Knysna by the Knysna River, which here widens out
into a lake three miles wide. Belvidere has a beautiful
harbor. The entrance is called The Heads, and it has
high hills on each side, which are one hundred and
sixty yards apart. The bar is rocky, and has eighteen
feet of water over it at high tide.
We live on a farm which belongs to my uncle. I go
to school with seven of my cousins; two of them, named
Walter and George, stay with us, and we go to school
The other day my uncle was out shooting bucks, when
his dogs caught a small hare. He brought it home, and
gave it to my cousin Madge. She feeds it on milk; it is
just learning to eat grass now.
I have two cats. The old one is four years old. Her
name is "Keen." On her birthday she always has a picnic,
and asks all her friends. She catches rats and moles and

sometimes snakes. This evening she caught one and
brought it into the house; she and her kitten were play-
ing with it when we killed it.
My uncle has a good many ostriches. They make
nests in the sand out on the hills. When he thinks the
little ones must be hatched, he goes and gets them
and brings them to the house, because if they are left
with the old birds they get so wild that they cannot be
caught to be plucked. They are then put in an en-
closure and fed on cabbage leaves, small stones and
chopped-up bones. They are very pretty when they are
quite small.
A friend of my mother's, in England, has been sending
you to me since the beginning of the year. I like you
very much and look forward to your coming.
From your loving reader, IRENE T- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We have a black cat named
"Tommy." He is black all over, and has a scar on his
side near his hind legs. He had it when we found him.
We go crabbing every day, and to-day I caught nine-
teen crabs. The water is full of shrimps. This is a part
of the Mississippi Sound. Down at Bay of St. Louis
there is an old sunken warship.
I have been to Jefferson Davis's home in Mississippi
City. We just got a glance at it. In the dining-room
was the bust of Mr. Davis. I saw his library and then
we had to go. Your reader, WILLIAM K. D--

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I was very much pleased to see
my name on the honor roll of the "Fairy Godmother
About two weeks before the time to hand it in I
started to work on it. I had to work hard to finish
as much as I did, and at almost the last moment was
going to back out, but thought of all the work thrown
away. Not thrown away, either, for I learned very much
by looking up different things. It was very exciting,
and like playing a game of detective. Thinking of a
possible answer, and diving into some book to find it,
then catching a glimpse of another clue, just turning the
corner, and searching for that. And, too, acting on some
suggestion, even though it turned out a mistaken one, I
would perhaps get interested and learn a lot by reading
an article through.
I enjoy your stories very much, and enjoy reading the
old bound volumes. It is very interesting to read of the
little friends' joys and sorrows in the Letter-Box,"
though I am glad to say they are usually joys. I think
that while writing to ST. NICHOLAS no sorrowful
thoughts are apt to come to one's mind.
I must tell you of a storm we had last summer. It
had been raining hard all night, and I had been enjoying
the lightning and thunder, never thinking of the little
lives out in it. The next morning I started out to my
lesson, and when about a half mile from the house I no-
ticed a great many sparrows lying dead on the ground,


and soon I found myself tip-toeing to keep from stepping
on them. There were hundreds. They must have been
in some large tree that had been struck by lightning.
Still I cannot understand why so many should be in one
tree. But perhaps it is true with birds as well as with
people, that misery loves company," and that the fright-
ened birds had all huddled into the same tree.
With love and wishes for a prosperous future, I am
one of your many readers. MARY E. D- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I will write you a short letter
from my sunny State.
I suppose most of the readers who live in the East
must imagine this a very unpleasant place to live; but
if they should visit us I am pretty sure they would
change their minds. We have such delightful climate
that we can stand the wind.
The numerous cyclones always recall to my mind the
one we had 9*'. M., May 27, 1892. It swept away a
good part of our little city, which is mostly rebuilt now.
Before that eventful night we thought nothing of wind,
but now, visit our city, and see the many caves which
have been dug for the safety of the people! I hope
that your city will never be visited by a cyclone.
If you think my letter worthy, I should be pleased to
see it printed, if not, I will try again.
Your loving friend, GEORGIA S--.

DEAR ST. NICK: I am a little girl nine years old, and
this is the first time I ever wrote to you. My brother
has taken you two years or more. My little sister
Hazel is almost three years old, and is very cunning.
One night we had cake with chocolate frosting, and
she was eating the frosting and not the cake, and mama
told her to eat the cake, too, and she said, It might
make me nervous."
Your affectionate friend, ELSIE A. B- .

MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am sending you a few
little pictures, which I hope you will like.
I like you immensely, and could n't get on without
you. I am twelve years old. Papa bought me a bicycle
a few day's ago, and I ride it everywhere. There is
hardly any one 'round here who has n't one. I hope you
will be printed forever. Your loving,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I live in a very pretty town in
the western part of the State.
My grandfather always sent your paper to me while
he lived, and now my father gives it to me. I enjoy it
very much.
I have a black cat named Ubiquity," so named be-
cause she seems to have the power of being in more
than one place at once.
I remain ever your willing reader,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have taken you for two years,
and enjoy you very much. This is the second time I
have been to St. Paul. I have traveled a great many
times. My sister and I have a wheel, and we ride a
good deal. We were in Washington last winter, and we
had no snow, except in March, when we had one or two
little snow-storms that did not last long. Before we
left we shook hands with the President in his office.
Mr. Miller, the Eternal Revenue, introduced us.
I remain your devoted reader, LOTTIE V F--

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am going to tell you about a
black cat I had. When we lived in Oswego, N. Y., we
had a very large house with a wood-shed. Well, one
summer a great many skunks made a nest under the
wood-shed. We soon got very weary of these objec-
tionable animals. So my papa took a piece of meat, and
put some poison on the meat, then he put the meat in a
small hole under the woodshed; then he went into the
house to tell the servants to lock the cat in the house;
and when he came out the cat was coming out of the
hole, licking its whiskers as if it had had a very good
Of course, papa knew that the cat had eaten the
meat, poison, and everything. Then he ran in the house
again for my mama, the olive-oil bottle, and a spoon to
pour the oil down the cat's throat-in the act of which
it (the cat) scratched my mama's hand. The cat got well
and so did mama's hand; but I think the poison was
I have had three black cats since then. One of the
funniest names was "Piltizt." I have one now called
Believe me your friend and interested reader,



DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: My sister has taken you ever
since I can remember, and now I take you. We all en-
joy you very much. I was in New York last fall, and
saw the building in which you are published.
There are six children in our family, and five are girls.
I am the middle daughter, and I am twelve years old.
We have for pets a bird and a pony. The bird is mine,
and is quite tame. We had a cat, but some one shot it;
by mistake, we think. It was a Persian cat, and was very
handsome. Our pony is a very queer color-almost
orange, with stiff, black mane. We have beautiful sun-
sets on our lake. I can swim, float, and dive; and so
can all the children, except the youngest, who is almost
five. Very sincerely your friend, B. B. M-

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a girl of eleven years, and
I live on a farm just outside of Baltimore, Maryland. I
have three brothers and one sister, who is older than
myself. She is now traveling in Europe with my mo-
ther. I have for pets a dog, a pair of pigeons, and a kitten.
My youngest brother, who is two years old, is very
funny. He says to father when he comes home, "John,
did you get a letter?" And if father says "No," he
says "What a pity! His name is Frederick, but he
calls himself Master." He thinks he owns everything;
and he is very fond of our black cat, whom he will pick
up by the tail, and the cat will not even bite him.
I remain ever your reader, DOROTHY R. G- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am ten years old to-day. We
have every number of ST. NICHOLAS bound in nice big
books, and I love to read them.
I am alone with papa and mama. My only brother is
married, and has a home of his own; and my only sister
is at college in Washington, D. C., but will be home in
a few days. Six dolls and six cats are the only pets I
have besides my wheel, which I enjoy riding very much.
I wish every little girl could have ST. NICHOLAS for her
own. Your constant reader, MAGGIE McG- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: It is over one hundred de-
grees in the shade here, and I can't go outdoors.
We are going camping out to McCuck Lake soon, and
then I expect to have some fun. The last time that I
was out there I caught the biggest perch that had been
caught that summer. I have a rifle, but it is only a sin-
gle one, and so I have to load every time I fire. I am
going to get a repeating rifle, that will carry a mile and
repeat sixteen times. I have to get the money first,
The other day they found an Indian skeleton, and
weapons, under one of the principal streets of the town.
The Indians are thick in town now, selling gooseberries
which they pick on the reservation. I go and watch the
troops drill every time they drill. I am going to see
the Soo" Gun Club shoot this afternoon, and some of
them are crack shots.
I will have to stop now, so good-by.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: The other day my father took
me to see the largest Buddhist temple, of which there are
2ooo in-this city, with 5000 priests and nuns. The name
of the temple is Higashi (east) Hongwanji. The height

of the temple is about Ioo feet, and it is 125 feet square.
It cost upward of I,ooo,ooo yen, Japanese money. In-
side are 400 mats (a mat is 3 feet wide and 6 feet long),
that is, 7200 square feet, beside the wide porches.
As we enter the temple by a flight of steps we see
crowds hurrying to pray before their gods of wood. The
people kneel at any convenient place facing the altar,
throw in their money, say their prayers, and go away.
Some of the priests arekept continually gathering up the
money in a sort of scoop, or dust-pan, and putting it into
the boxes. Above the throne of the god there are some
fine carvings, overlaid with pure gold. There are 54 pil-
lars of keyaki (black walnut) which are nearly 6 feet in cir-
cumference, and 30 feet in height.
In the temple there are 37 priests, 12 of whom are or-
dained, the rest are pupils or disciples. In the theological
school attached to the temple are Ioo students preparing
to be priests. Within every temple inclosure there is, a
large bell which does not swing, but which is rung by
striking'a heavy timber against it. Many times a day we
hear the melodious boom, boom, boom; of the temple
bells, which are being rung while the priests are saying
their prayers. The prayers of both priests and people
are simply one or two sentences repeated over and over
again. Great numbers of the people do not know the
meaning of their own prayers. There are only two Chris-
tian churches in this city of 20o,ooo people.
Yours truly, HARRY J. S-- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl living in the
Hawaiian Islands. I live at the Kamehameha School
for Girls. We take your magazine and I enjoy it very
I have a little pony; her name is Jennie. I ride her
two miles to school every day.
I have been on these islands for three years. I lived
in the State of Ohio before I came here. I missed the
snow very much at first, but there are so many beautiful
things here to enjoy that I do not miss it now.
It is somuch fun to go sea-bathing. I can swim, dive,
float, and do almost anythingin the water. The Hawaiian
girls are very fine swimmers.
Last summer we went up Haleakala, a very high ex-
tinct volcano, on the island of Maui. We had to travel
on horseback. I was very sick when we reached the top,
on account of the thin air.
When we reached the top, about five o'clock, it was
very hot; about six, it turned suddenly very cold.
About seven o'clock we went up to see the moon rise
over the crater. I got so cold that I had to go back to
the house and get warm. There were small crystals of
ice on a pail of water standing near the fire.
On the steamer coming back, we had to have mat-
tresses spread out on deck and sleep there. It was very
rough, and I was seasick.
It was interesting to see them load the cattle. First,
trained native men lassoed them, and took them out to
small boats, where they were tied by their horns; then
they were taken out to the steamer, where they were
brought on deck by pulleys.
I remain your faithful reader,

WE thank the young friends whose names follow for
pleasant letters received from them: Gertrude M. E.,
George Alden, Evelyn M. S., Matilda Berns, N. Nagle,
Molly, Cosette M., Marjorie L., Sarah S. Wilkinson,
Eleanor Peters, Lilian B. 0., DorotheaW., Ralph S. L.,
Rosaline W., Louise H. Curtis, Martha Genung, Miriam,
Conrad -C. Prue, Frances M. Jebb, Robert M. Jackson,
M. L. M., Elizabeth J. Hitch.


N.' 0 $Ki AAJA

DIAGONAL. Nansen. Cross-words: i. Nemean. 2. nAtant. .3. 5. Hosts. II. Hare. 2. Agog. 3. Rome. 4. Eger. III. r.
hiNder. 4. theSis. 5. weazEn. 6. weakeN. Chop. 2. Hake. 3. Okra. 4. Peak.
PRIMAL ACROSTIC. Wolfe. Cross-words: I. Worms. 2. Oates. CHARADES. I. Trowbridge. 2. Kipling. 3. Stockton. 4. Al-
3. Lamb. 4. Fox. 5. Eagle. cott. 5. Burnett.
FALSE COMPARATIVES. i. Ring, wringer. 2. Bit, bitter. 3. ZIGZAG. John Loudon Macadam. Crosswords: i. Jonah. 2.
Let, letter. 4. Mite, miter. 5. Skip, skipper. 6. Mist, mister. Boast. 3. Bohea. 4. Shunt. 5. Newel. 6. Melon. 7. Flute.
7. Hen, henna. 8. Mull, Muller. 9. Man, manor. o1. Light, 8. Odeon. 9. Omega. io. Annoy. xx. Cameo. x2. Nomad.
lighter. 13. Civic. 14. Tread. 15. Sodom. r6. Fatal. a7. Motor.
HOUR-GLASS. Centrals, Tattles. Cross-words: i. Tattles. 2. Ibis. 3. Pigeon. 4. Lion. 5. Ibex. 6. Narwhal. 7. Goat.
Slang. 3. Ate. 4. T. 5. Ale. 6. Pleat. 7. Dressed. ANAGRAM. Ian Maclaren.
RHOMBOID. Across: I. Hand. 2. Heed. 3. Daub. 4. Deep. AN OBLIQUE RECTANGLE. I. B. 2. Sad. 3. Babel. 4. De-
5. Lean. 6. Flop. mon. 5. Lover. 6. Newel. 7. Redan. 8. Labor. 9. Noted.
WORD-SQUARES. I. I. Frush. 2. Rollo. 3. Ulnas. 4. Slant. to. Rebus. ii. Dun. 12. S.
To OUR PUZZLERS: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the 15th of each month, and should
be addressed to ST. NICHOLAS Riddle-Box," care of THE CENTURY CO., 33 East Seventeenth St., New York City.
ANSWERS TO ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE JUNE NUMBER were received, before June 15th, from M. McG. Paul Reese Helen C.
McCleary--Josephine Sherwood Arthur Gride Marguerite Sturdy Chiddingstone "- Uncle Sam and Cholly" Midwood "-
" Clive"- Nessie and Freddie Marian J. Homans "Jersey Quartette "- George Bancroft Femald- Ella and Co.- Mildred Shake-
speare- K. M. T.- W. L.- Buckeye Nut-cracker"- Sigourney Fay Nininger -" Hilltop Farm "- Paul Rowley- "May and 79" -
" Dondy Small "- Jean Hallett Jo and I Clara D. Lauer and Co.- W. Y. W. L. 0. E.- No name, Chestnut Hill The Bottle
Imps "--" Pro and Con "-Mabel and Henri -" Edgewater Two "- Delavan and his Mama- No name, Phila.- Three Flowers "-
"Anno and Tansie -"Tod and Yam "- Hubert L. Bingay- Two Little Brothers- Effie K. Talboys Florence P. O'Sullivan -
"The Brownie Band "- F. Miles Greenleaf-" The Two Georges "- Grace Edith Thallon Greta Simpson Mama and Jack -Ed-
ward Arthur Lyon Louise Ingham Adams R. E. L. and J. S. L.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE JUNE NUMBER were received, before June i5th, from E. P. J. and F. R. J., 4-"Mighty," etc., 2 -
"Brynhild," 4 E. Carleton McDowell, I- Grace Minaldi, -- The Twins," i-- Mary K. Rake, 2-- Fred Wennberg, I-- Charlotte
A. Smith, I M. R. Everett, I Fedora Edgar, 4--Charles Townsend, Jr., 4 Charles B. Whitney, i -J. E. Schermerhorn, Jr., 5 -
Percy D. Nagle, 2-G. B. Dyer, x --Jakeand Jane, --Dorothy R. Gittings, 2--Robert I. Miner, I -C. EdwinL., 9--FriedaP.
Foote, 5- Elsie Hoxie, I Leone W. Weiler, I -Margaret Ellis, I -Ralph Owen, A. N. J. and Antoinette Heckscher, as Hallie
Pierce, Marguerite Union, 6-Helen Lawrence, I Henry L. Lincoln, 2 "Old Scratch and Fits," 6-Elizabeth Crane, i -J.
O'Donohoe Rennie, 5-"Spooks," I -Violetta Lansdale Brown, 2-Edwin Jobbins, --H. E. Strong, 7-"Nemo," 7-Edward Lin-
coln, --Georgia Stipp, 3-Frank De Vroey, I-Amy P. Butler, Clara A. Anthony, so- ErlmahL. Paulette, 6-"Will O. Tree,"
zo- Katharine Minot, i- H. A. R., n Victor J. West, 7 Toddlekins and Tippytoes," 5 G. Isabel Ashwell, 2- Laura B., -
Florence Elsie Turner, 9-A. E. and H. G. E., i Albert P. Weymouth, 9-Thiotiste A. Rice, 2 "Myhnepo," 5-Warren Barton
Blake, 4- Mildred Schrenkeisen, 2 Theodora B. Dennis, 9 Lawrence Warner, I- Clotilde, 4 Charlotte Q. D., 6- Harriet B.
Harmon, 3--No name, Cincinnati, 9- Martha Gardner, I Harry Snevely, i -W. P. Anderton, 2- Wm. A. Lochren, 7--" Cam-
bridge Friends," 9- Frances R. D., I -N. Van Shaick, 6- D. Rowell, 2 Franklyn A. Farnsworth, Ir- Stanley and Philips, I- Ed-
ward H. Merritt, 2- "Knowledge," zo Katharine D. Hull, I Margaret G Findlay, 5- Bessie and Percy, 3-" Merry and Co.," I -
"Kilkenny Cats," xn-- Sindbad, Smith, and Co.," 5-Helen Lorraine Enbs, 4-"Adulcentes," o--Frederica Yeager, xo-Ade-
laide Gaither, 7- Edna Taylor Smith, 9- Harriet Perry, 4 Daniel Hardin and Co., 8 Bertha Getzelman, 5 "The Whole Family,"
9- "The Butterflies," io- Rebecca E. Forbes, 4-" Woodside Folks," Ti -Katharine D. Parmly, x Laura M. Zinser, 9- Char-
lotte Schram, I- Grace Colyer and Nettie Sherwood, 3 -C. C. S. Moncrieff, zo- Louise G. M. Cochrane, 8- Lloyd R. and Derby
W., 4.


MY centrals, reading downward, spell the name of a
famous American author.
CROSS-WORDS: I. Knowledge. 2. Called. 3. A
pronoun. 4. A letter from Norway. 5. To inquire.
6. To invest with royal dignity and power. 7. Ardent
in the pursuit of an object. MARY ANNE."


C *

WHEN the five words described are rightly guessed,
and written one below the other, the initial letters will

spell the name of a celebrated English philosopher. The
acrostic will include a diamond (as indicated in the dia-
gram) and the diamond will include a three-letter word-
CROSS-WORDS: I. Supports or strengthens by aid or
influence. 2. To lessen. 3. The weight of four grains.
4. Any eared seal. 5. Dating from one's birth.


ALL the words described contain the same number of
letters. When rightly guessed and placed one below
another, in the order here given, the central letters will
name a famous naval commander.
CROSS-WORDS: I. Sly. 2. The predominant qualities
of a drug, extracted and refined from grosser matter. 3.
A structure of lattice-work for supporting plants. 4. A
sitting. 5. A military officer. 6. Transgressors.
S. J., W. P. H., AND M. J. H.


THE steamship New York had been four days out
at sea. A group of young people had gathered on the
upper deck and were trying to pass the long hour before
dinner by asking conundrums.
"Let us suppose," said a gentleman who strolled up
to them, that all the sea around us is covered with ves-
sels great and small, famous in song and story."
Tell us about them," they cried, "and we will guess
He readily complied:
I see a little fleet of three ships, sailing ahead of us
out into the west, bound on a voyage of discovery. The
largest of them (I) is only ninety feet long, and she car-
ries the Admiral (2) and a crew of 66 men; the second
(3) does not steer very well, for she dislodged her rud-
der at the beginning of her voyage; both it and the third
(4) are half-decked, and all three carry the flag of Spain.
They are a strange trio, but near them is a stranger
ship still, for she (5) was -built to sail over the land.
Then there is a wonderful ship (6), full of giants and he-
roes, sailing off to a garden just to gain possession of
some wool from a sheep. To the leeward of her is a
gilded barge (7), and how she keeps afloat on the Atlan-
tic I can't imagine, for she was built for the canals of
Venice and the sunny Adriatic, and every Ascension Day
the Doge rowed out in her and dropped a golden ring
into the sea with these words: 'We espouse thee, 0
sea, in token of true and lasting dominion.'
"There, sailing together, are the flagships of three
famous admirals. The first admiral (8) has placed at
his mast-head a broom, with which he intends to sweep
the British from their own waters; the second (9) cap-
tured a British squadron on Lake Erie, and the flag of
his vessel (lo) bears the motto Don't give up the ship';
and the third, England's greatest naval commander (In),
lies on the deck of his man-of-war (12), dying in obe-
dience to his own signal, 'England expects every man
will do his duty.'
Over there, looking strangely out of place on a mod-
em torpedo boat, are three discoverers chatting away in
the most friendly fashion. There is the famous Portu-
guese (13) who first rounded the southernmost point of
South America; the captain (14) in the service of the
Dutch East India Company who in his ship (15) first
sailed up the Hudson River; the first Englishman (16)
to sail around the world, from the timbers of whose ship
(17) a chair was made and presented to the University
of Oxford by Charles II.
"Nearer to the New York are some more modern
boats. There is one built by a Swedish American inven-
tor, which on account of its strange shape was called a
' cheesebox on a raft' (18), and which did great havoc
to a southern ship in the Civil War; there is the largest
vessel ever constructed (19), which in 1865 carried out the
Atlantic cable, and the steamer (20) which has made the
fastest passage from Queenstown to New York. There

is the yacht (21) which sailed over to Cowes more than
thirty-five years ago and carried off the cup which Eng-
land has so far tried in vain to win back, and the ship
(22) all covered with icicles in which Nansen started in
June, 1893, to discover the North Pole.
"Lying closest to our vessel, as it should lie closest to
our hearts, is a ship which is no ship at all, though Long-
fellow called it the Ship of State (23), yet we are more
interested in it than in any of the others we have talked
about, and-we Americans should love it better than any-
thing else in the world."
The boys and girls on the New York guessed the an-
swers to all twenty-three questions. Which of the boys
and girls who read ST. NICHOLAS can do as well?
MY primals and finals each name a famous yacht.
CROSS-WORDS (of equal length): I. Empty. 2. Ca-
pable.- 3. To lounge or loiter about. 4. A joint of the
leg. 5. A sailor's story. 6. A hostile incursion. 7.
Averse to labor or employment. 8. Continually.
(Twelve kinds of boats are suggested by the following
BEHOLD a gallant fleet indeed;
Pray guess what they can be.
I. The first 's the swiftest craft that sails,
Though ne'er afloat is she.
2. The next appears as fleecy clouds
In summer skies above.
3. And weapons sharp the third conceals,
Beneath a velvet glove.
4. The shipwrecked man on desert isle
The fourth would gladly see;
5. And in the fifth e'en gentle-folks
Live for economy.
6. Handle the dangerous sixth with care;
7. The seventh with meats we use;
8. And if with dynamite you play,
The eighth you 're like to lose.
9. The ninth most college boys aspire
To do both well and fast;
o1. The tenth 's a guide through dangerous ways,
And brings to port at last.
11. A narrow, winding, watery way
Gives to the next its name;
12. The coarsest part of broken flax
Does for the last the same. F. AMORY.
I. I. A GARDEN flower. 2. A notion. 3. The hero
of one of Shakspere's plays. 4. A measure of length.
II. I. A quadruped. 2. A masculine name. 3. A
minute particle. 4. A ponderous volume. ISOLA.



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