• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Frontispiece
 To "the girl with the muff"
 Teddy Baird's luck
 The last three soldiers
 Master skylark
 Jed's windmill
 A winter day
 The rhyme of the drumlie drumm...
 Animal tracks in the snow
 The litte french poodle
 June's garden
 A fight
 Harbor defenses
 Miss Nina Barrow
 The little shadow fold
 A boy I knew
 Some queer craft
 How a president is inaugurated
 Johnny in gobolink land
 A fortune
 The true story of Marco Polo
 A century of presidents
 List of prizes offered for answers...
 All in the winter weather
 Report upon the prize puzzle "A...
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Front Matter
 Front Cover
 Spine






Title: St. Nicholas
ALL VOLUMES CITATION PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00322
 Material Information
Title: St. Nicholas
Uniform Title: St. Nicholas (New York, N.Y.)
Alternate Title: Saint Nicholas
Physical Description: 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Publisher: Scribner
Place of Publication: New York
Publication Date: -c1943
Frequency: monthly
regular
 Subjects
Subject: Children's literature -- Periodicals   ( lcsh )
Genre: periodical   ( marcgt )
 Notes
Dates or Sequential Designation: -v. 67, no. 4 (Feb. 1940) ; v. 70, no. 1 (Mar. 1943)-v. 70, no. 4 (June 1943).
Dates or Sequential Designation: Began with: Vol. 1, no. 1, Nov. 1873.
Numbering Peculiarities: Suspended Mar. 1940-Feb. 1943; vols. 68-69 omitted.
Issuing Body: Published by: Century, Aug. 1881- ; by Educational Pub. Corp. -1940; by St. Nicholas Magazine, 1943.
General Note: Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
General Note: Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00065513
Volume ID: VID00322
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: oclc - 01764817
lccn - 04012675
 Related Items
Preceded by: Our young folks
Preceded by: Children's hour (Philadelphia, Penn.)
Preceded by: Little corporal
Preceded by: Schoolday magazine
Preceded by: Wide awake

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front Matter
    Frontispiece
        Page 354
    To "the girl with the muff"
        Page 355
    Teddy Baird's luck
        Page 356
        Page 357
        Page 358
        Page 359
        Page 360
        Page 361
        Page 362
        Page 363
        Page 364
        Page 365
    The last three soldiers
        Page 366
        Page 367
        Page 368
        Page 369
    Master skylark
        Page 370
        Page 371
        Page 372
        Page 373
        Page 374
        Page 375
        Page 376
        Page 377
        Page 378
    Jed's windmill
        Page 379
        Page 380
        Page 381
        Page 382
        Page 383
    A winter day
        Page 384
    The rhyme of the drumlie drummer
        Page 385
        Page 386
    Animal tracks in the snow
        Page 387
        Page 388
        Page 389
    The litte french poodle
        Page 390
    June's garden
        Page 391
        Page 392
        Page 393
        Page 394
        Page 395
    A fight
        Page 396
    Harbor defenses
        Page 397
        Page 398
        Page 399
        Page 400
    Miss Nina Barrow
        Page 401
        Page 402
        Page 403
        Page 404
        Page 405
        Page 406
        Page 407
    The little shadow fold
        Page 408
    A boy I knew
        Page 409
        Page 410
        Page 411
        Page 412
        Page 413
    Some queer craft
        Page 414
        Page 415
        Page 416
        Page 417
    How a president is inaugurated
        Page 418
        Page 419
    Johnny in gobolink land
        Page 420
        Page 421
        Page 422
        Page 423
    A fortune
        Page 424
    The true story of Marco Polo
        Page 425
        Page 426
        Page 427
        Page 428
        Page 429
    A century of presidents
        Page 430
    List of prizes offered for answers to the prize puzzle "a century of presidents"
        Page 431
    All in the winter weather
        Page 432
        Page 433
    Report upon the prize puzzle "A thanksgiving day problem"
        Page 434
        Page 435
    The letter-box
        Page 436
        Page 437
        Page 438
    The riddle-box
        Page 439
        Page 440
    Front Matter
        Page 442
    Front Cover
        Page 443
        Page 444
    Spine
        Page 445
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AFTER THE PAINTING BY MME. VIGEE LEBRUN, IN THE LOUVRE. BY PERMISSION OF BRAUN, CLEMENT & CO., NEW YORK.
"THE GIRL WITH THE MUFF."
(FROM A PHOTOGRAPH OF THE ORIGINAL PICTURE. ENGRAVED FOR "ST. NICHOLAS" BY PETER AITKEN.)


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ST.


VOL. XXIV.


NICHOLAS.


MARCH, 1897.


No. 5.


Copyright, 1897, by THE CENTURY Co. All rights reserved.


TO "THE GIRL WITH THE MUFF."
(In the Painting by Madame Lebrun.)

By BEATRICE RUSSELL DOE.


LITTLE maid of olden France,
Something in thy countenance
Sweetly girlish, dainty, fair,
Tender, mirthful, debonair,
Makes me love thee, dear, although
Thou wert painted long ago.
Tell me where thy charm doth lie.
Is it in the merry eye
Whose light joyousness of glance
Sets this heart o' mine a-dance ?
Or within those parted lips
From whose mirthfulness there slips
Such a wondrous witchery -
Little Mistress Sans Souci ?
Is it wholly in the face?
Dwells it in that artless grace,
Modesty and ease of pose ?
Pr'ythee tell me. Ah! who knows?

,fe, .i ,
3 '+.. '. '> .-'.. .-. 7 -"t~~


Truly, dear,, I know thou art
Sunny, blithe, and true of heart;
This doth make thee seem so fair -
Lights thy face with sweetness rare.
Standing thus and smiling so
'Neath thy wide and quaint chapeau
Decked with plume and ribbon bow,
Thou wert pictured long ago,
With thy neckerchief and muff;
Not a trinket nor a ruff,
Dear, to mar thy perfect grace,
Thy rare innocence of face.
Gazing on thy features, Sweet,
We but hope each season fleet,
Brought no sigh nor sorry tear-
Only smiles and joy, my dear.
Bless thee for thy merry glance,
Dainty maid of olden France!











TEDDY BAIRD'S LUCK.


BY KATE DICKINSON SWEETSER.


"AS QUICK AS A FLASH HE WAS ON THE OLD WHEEL AND AWAY, SCORCHING WITH MAIN FORCE DOWN THE CARRIAGE-ROAD."
(SEE PAGE 362.)


ON Commencement Day at Harvey Acad-
emy, after all the exercises were over and the
diplomas had been awarded, Mr. Shedd, the
professor of literature, announced that at the be-
ginning of the fall term he would give a prize
to the member of his advanced class bringing
in the best account of an adventure which
had happened to him during the summer. The
adventure described must be a genuine occur-
rence, and the story must be written in a clear,
but picturesque style.
"The prize," he added, will be a member-
ship ticket in the Acorn Athletic Club. This
is a rare chance for some one, and I hope you
will all try for it."
While he spoke the boys had been exchang-
ing eager glances, and then they broke into
hearty applause, and nodded to each other, as
much as to say, Indeed we will! "
The Acorn Club was one which offered su-


perior advantages in its gymnasium and bowl-
ing-alleys, and which admitted only a limited
number of junior members through the influence
of senior members. As Professor Shedd had
been one of the charter members of the Club,
he was able to offer this prize to his boys, and
a thrill of delight shot through each boy at the
possibility ahead.
Teddy Baird was one of the most enthusias-
tic athletes in the school, and had long wanted
to be one of the A. A. C.'s. At once he began
to make plans for having an adventure, and by
the time he reached home his eyes were shining
with excitement, and his round freckled face
was beaming with anticipation.
"I can get it, and I WILL he announced to
his father in a most decisive manner.
"Good!" said Mr. Baird, heartily. "That
is the right spirit, my son; but how about
the adventure ? "






TEDDY BAIRD'S LUCK.


Oh, that's easy enough," answered Teddy,
happily, and went off whistling.
From that time on through the three months
of his vacation the prize was always the upper-
most thought in Teddy's mind; but it did not
take him long to discover that finding a subject
for his story was not so easy a matter, after all.
It 's the funniest thing," he observed sadly
one day when he felt particularly discouraged;
" I am so lucky that I am unlucky, and that's
the truth. Nothing ever happens to me; even
the birds go to sleep when I come around."
At this Mrs. Baird smiled, for it seemed so
utterly impossible to conceive of anything sleep-
ing when Teddy was near; but he did not notice
the smile, and continued soberly: It 's funny;
honest Injun, it is If there 's a runaway, it
stops quicker 'n a wink when I come in sight;
or if there's a fire, it goes out when I turn the
corner. There is n't so much as a hot-box on
a train, if I 'm in it."
I should think you would be in great de-
mand as an accident-preventer," said grandma
in her soft, low voice; but Teddy only groaned
in reply, and drawing himself up in a dignified
manner, declared firmly: I won't be balked;
I just WON'T, so there! "
Shortly after the first of July the family went
to the seashore, and for a month Teddy pa-
tiently held himself in readiness for an adven-
ture. He rowed and sailed, fished and swam,
and sat on the beach for hours at a time,
watching the bathers, in hopes of an adventure;
but he caught no wonderfully large fish, no
boat in which he embarked showed even the
slightest inclination to capsize, and an unsym-
pathetic public refused to drown for his benefit.
"Talk about the perils of the sea!" he said
scornfully, on the day when he took his last
look at the beach from the stage window;
"it 's a million times safer 'n land"; but he
added with a show of cheerfulness, Well, now,
let's see what the mountains can do for a fel-
low. I am going to try getting eaten by bears,
or shot instead of a deer."
"Do," said Mrs. Baird, calmly. Teddy's
statements never ruffled her in the least. Do,
dear; it would be so pleasant for me! And in
that case you could so easily write up the
story of your exciting adventure."


They both laughed, but Teddy added soberly:
" Honestly, mother, I 'm afraid you don't real-
ize how serious this is getting to be. I have got
to get that prize."
But Mrs. Baird's answer was so hopeful and
comforting that his spirits revived somewhat,
and he decided that if there was an adventure
to be found anywhere, it would come to light
in the woods; consequently he was in a more
cheerful frame of mind during the remainder
of their trip to the Adirondacks, where they
were to stay until the last of August.
Mrs. Baird stopped at the Blue Mountain Lake
Hotel, while Teddy joined a party of boys and
went further into the woods to camp out. It
was an entirely new experience to him, and he
enjoyed it hugely. From daybreak often until
late at night they were off tramping, hunting,
or fishing; and in the evenings, when they sat
around their camp-fire, the guides would tell
such marvelous tales of blood-curdling adven-
tures that the boys felt they had strayed into the
country of the "Arabian Nights." To Teddy
the stories, told in the rough language of the
natives, offered a great temptation.
If I only could tell some of them, I 'd be
sure to get the prize," he sighed. "Those
things might have happened to us, only they
did n't; that 's all the difference. My! what a
show they 'd make on paper i "
But his conscience was much too honest to
allow of his using the coveted material so near
at hand, and he was still at a loss for the subject
of his prize story. One of the boys had shot a
deer, two had a narrow escape from drowning,
and another had been lost in the woods for
half a day; but as none of these were his
own experiences, Teddy did not feel justified
in using them, and not a single thing worth
writing about happened to him personally. He
had some amusing episodes, of course, during
the three weeks; but as adventures, none of
them seemed to be thrilling enough.
"Some fellows can work on their imagina-
tions and get all sorts of fine things out of
nothing," he observed sadly; "but 't ain't so
with T. B. Give me facts, or I 'm a gone
goose!" But then he added, with his usual
philosophy: "P'r'aps something'11 turn up yet;
't won't come any quicker for worrying, I






TEDDY BAIRD'S LUCK.


s'pose "; and he dismissed the matter from his
mind for the few remaining days of their stay
in camp, and simply enjoyed himself.
He was as brown as an Indian when his
mother saw him again, and she was well sat-.
isfied that the change had benefited him; but
she did not question him about the essay, feel-
ing sure that if he had had an adventure she
would hear about it at once. He did not men-
tion the subject for some time; then he said
abruptly, as if he did not care to dwell on the
matter: "Say, where do you suppose that luck
of mine you used to talk about so much has
gone to, mother? It seems to have shied
clear of Massachusetts and New York State,
not to mention New Jersey! If you could sug-
gest where I might meet it, I 'd take the
next train, for my time 's 'most up, you know."
"My dear," said Mrs. Baird, soothingly,
don't give up quite yet. There are still three
weeks of vacation, and that is time for all sorts
of strange things to happen. You were lucky
from the minute you were born, and I am not
willing to believe yet that you have lost the
prize. Are you sure you can't take some
little incident, even if it does seem small to you,
and make it into an amusing story? I am
sure there must be something you could use if
you only thought so."
But Teddy shook his head. Can't be done
by T. B., ma'am," he said. You should have
had a more brilliant son. I mooned around up
in camp with a ream of paper in my lap, a pen-
cil in my hand, and a far-off gaze in my eyes,
waiting for an idea to flood my intellect, till
the fellows guyed me so I had to quit. Hon-
est, mother, there was n't a thing but happens
to other people every day in the week."
Mrs. Baird looked thoughtful for a moment,
then she said eagerly:
I have it! Why not write an account of
what did not happen? Tell all about the
thrilling things that might have occurred, and
the funny way in which they seemed to avoid
you. I am sure no one else will think of that! "
Teddy beamed, and grasped her arm in an
ecstatic squeeze.
"You 're a brick he exclaimed. I guess
you 've hit it, and we 'll get that ticket yet!
You are some good, mother, after all! This


was said with a comical twinkle of his blue
eyes, and Mrs. Baird made him a little bow.
"Thank you, my son! she said laughingly.
Praise from Sir Hubert Stanley is praise in-
deed!'"
The new idea pleased Teddy more and more
as he thought about it. Sentences and pages
began to form themselves in his brain, and it
seemed as if he could not wait to put them on
paper.
I'll begin the minute we get to Aunt Sa-
rah's," he said; and his mother was delighted
that she had been able to help him, for she
knew how persistently he had tried to help
himself
They reached the home of Mrs. Baird's sister
in Tarrytown the next day, and settled down
for the visit which was to end up their summer
outing. Aunt Sarah's boys, Tom and Herbert,
were Teddy's greatest chums, so the meeting
was an enthusiastic one on both sides, and it
seemed as if the boys could never finish tell-
ing each other of all their doings since they
last met. Of course it was not long before
Teddy had told about the prize and his strug-
gles for it, and then he spoke of his mother's
new idea, and every one thought it a fine one.
S"You are sure to get the ticket, Teddy,"
said Aunt Sarah; "you are always so lucky."
"So I 've heard," said Teddy, dryly. "I
wish you 'd introduce me to that luck, Aunt
Sarah; I don't happen to have see it myself."
On each day, as it came, he meant to begin
his writing; but there were so many delightful
plans to be carried out that he never could find
time, and whenever he suggested taking an
hour for writing, the boys always refused to let
him, and suggested a bicycle-ride, or a swim,
or a ball-game, and Teddy weakly yielded, until
the edge was off his enthusiasm and five days
of the visit were gone.
On the sixth day it rained hard, and as soon
as breakfast was over Teddy announced his
determination of going to his room to write,
and threatened all sorts of dire possibilities to
the person who should dare disturb him. So
away he went; but before he had even finished
his elaborate process of pencil-sharpening, there
was a smothered shout at the door, and in burst
Herbert and Tom, took the room by storm,






TEDDY BAIRD'S LUCK.


confiscated the pencils, and made so much
noise that connected thinking was impossible.
Mrs. Baird, sitting in an opposite room, heard
the chorus of groans, whistles, and laughter
that followed the onslaught; and finally, after
the mail came, she put down her work and
went to see what was going on. On the
threshold she stopped with an exclamation of
dismay.
Why, boys," she said, gazing about, "you
look as if a cyclone had struck you! What are
you doing? "
In one corner of the room Tom and Her-
bert were fencing with the gravity of profes-
sionals, while Teddy lay on the floor, heels in
the air, evidently in a state of exhaustion,
watching the contest. The floor and bed and
chairs were strewn with clothes, bicycle-tools,
books, paper, a camera outfit, dumb-bells, In-
dian clubs, and every other article that could
add to the general disorder. On a chair re-
posed a large bowl of black fluid, evidently ink;
a tripod stood in the corner, and Ted's bicycle
leaned against the wall. Small wonder that
Mrs. Baird gasped, and repeated, What are
you doing? "
At the sound of her voice Teddy slowly rose
from his position on the floor, and a comical
smile broke over his face. "We 're having a
last try at making things happen," he said.
"You 're right about the gale; it struck us
more 'n an hour ago, and blew all these things
around. We put up danger-signals to warn
relatives off the coast; but now you 're here,
won't you have a seat? "
This civility was offered with a wave of the
hand toward the room in general, and Mrs.
Baird acknowledged the courtesy by taking the
only vacant seat in sight, which was on the
extreme edge of the bed; and then she asked
her question for the third time, adding: I
thought you were going to write your essay."
Was,"- Teddy was evidently too weary to
amplify his sentence was, but I could n't
make the thing hang together. I could n't
write a word. The wheels of my brain would
not go round, then the boys came up, and we
thought we 'd make another try at having
things happen. That 's why all these duds
are around. We took the clock to pieces to see


if we could n't make it go without so many
wheels," explained Herbert.
* "And cannot get it together again? Mrs.
Baird was looking at the machinery with which
the mantel was covered, but none answered
her question, and Herbert went on:
We 've tried all sorts of strange stunts with
clubs and dumb-bells and fencing, to see if
we could n't get some bone out of joint and in
again, in a queer way; then we tried putting
some of your lithia tablets- the fizzing ones
that you use for your rheumatism, you know -
in the ink. Tom was sure it would make an
elegant spouting geyser and a chemical rain-
bow; but it only -"
Spilled the ink all over the floor," Mrs. Baird
finished up the sentence, adding quickly: "I
think you have acted very much like silly little
boys of about ten years old, and I am morti-
fied that my son should show so little common
sense."
"Well, anyway, nothing 's any good," said
Teddy, mournfully. Don't hit a fellow, mo-
ther, when he 's down. I 'm clean discouraged.
What shall I do ?'"
"Do?" Mrs. Baird's voice had a cheerful
ring. Why, clear up this mess, of course, or
Aunt Sarah will think you never learned to be
neat."
Here Tom hastily interposed. "We '11 help.
We made as much of it as he did."
Mrs. Baird nodded and smiled at him,
and went on: "Put your paper away now,
Teddy, and try again to-morrow and every day
until you accomplish your task. But here is a
letter from Cousin Ellie Holcombe. She wants
you to ride over on your wheel to-morrow, and
spend the night. Cousin Frank is away, and
she says you can protect them."
"Good!" Teddy jumped up, and smiled
with importance. "I 'd like nothing better.
I 'm all twisted up in the old essay. I '11 put
it away till I come back, and then I '11 work
like a trooper till it 's done, see if I don't!
Will you mind if I go, boys ? It's a year since

I 've been over to Sunnybrook."
As it seemed to be the only thing to do, both
boys nodded agreement; but they looked very
mournful until Teddy suggested that they ride
over with him as far as the turnpike, a distance


S897.]






TEDDY BAIRD'S LUCK.


of ten miles; and then, after the room was re- soon as he had said a few words to Mrs. Hol-
stored to order, they all went down into the combe, who was not going with them, they
cellar to clean their wheels for the trip. set out. It was a perfect day; the sky was
The sun shone its brightest the next mor- a deep, cloudless blue, and the air was so crisp
and clear that it pltt them all
in their highest spirits, and
Teddy forgot in ten minutes
that there was such a thing
as a prize to compete for and
lose. A wagon had gone
ahead with the luncheon, which
was all spread out in tempting
array when they reached the
falls, and there was very little
looking at the beauties of na-
ture until most of the sand-
wiches and dainties had dis-
appeared. Then they lounged
by the falls, told stories, wan-
dered off in the woods, and
did all sorts of pleasant things,
until the sun warned them of
the lateness of the hour, and
with reluctance they started
homeward, leaving one after
another of the party on the
way, so that at last there were
only the girls and Teddy to
ride up the Sunnybrook lane.
Any one who did not know the
truth would have thought they
had eaten nothing for days, as
they rushed into the house with
a chorus of: "Oh, mother,
we 're starved alive! Got
.' any bread for some famished
tramps?" "Where is supper?
We are nearly famished!"
And Mrs. Holcombe with
quiet amusement watched her
bountiful supper disappear.
There was a big wood-fire
"'HOLD ON! OFF, AND GIVE AN ACCOUNT OF HERSELF, RIDIN' AT THIS TIME crackling merrily in the hall,
O' NIGHT WIDOUT A LIGHT! '" (SEE PAGE 362.)
and, when there was no more
ing, and the roads were fairly dry; so they made supper to dispose of, they gathered around it, the
an early start, and by eleven o'clock Teddy girls in easy-chairs and Teddy on the rug. Then
was in sight of the big, old stone house where a sudden quietness fell on them all. The effect
his cousins lived. He found a party of twenty of having been out in the crisp air all day and
waiting for him, ready to start for a day at coming into the warmth made their cheeks
some falls, about three miles away; and as glow, and gave them a comfortable feeling of


360






1897.] TEDDY BAIRD'S LUCK. 361

drowsiness. There was absolute stillness, until the family, or could he frighten off the burglars
Mrs. Holcombe came and sat down near them. alone? In a moment he had decided. From
Now, Teddy," she said, wake up. You his earliest childhood Teddy had been abso-
must talk to me for a while. The others have lutely fearless, and now he made up his mind
had you all day. I want to hear all that you that he could protect the house without even
and your mother have been doing." awaking his cousins.
Teddy smiled, roused himself, and gave an Turning up the gas, he hastily threw on his
account of their journeyings in a drowsy voice; bath-robe, unbolted his door and stole softly
and then he told of the prize story, and how he out into the dark, still hall, lighting the gas
had been trying to write one. there. Then he crept noiselessly downstairs and
But you see," he said, whenever I write lighted up the parlor and sitting-room, hearing
down on paper what I 've done, all the go' is all the time the low murmur of the voices out-
out of it. The things don't fit together in any side. Then he went into the dining-room; but
kind of shape. There is n't really enough to there he stood aghast,
make a good story, and that 's the truth." for the licrht revealed
"I 'l tell you what," said Helen: -- tell t all thit he %as to: .u..
over just as you did. to mama, and :..in'ttlnk Both cf
about writing it, and I 'll put it do .. n as ;, :' rh,- ind-
tell it. Then you can polish it upl alter, ard. ere
Allright. Now?" Teddyjuin,-Pd up,. Iw
drowsiness gone, and was starting of' in rh
of a pencil, but Mrs. Holcombe i i6d Frmni,
"No, indeed; not now. Just sc," thlc rtimn: !
We must be shutting up for the nig t."
While they were locking doors a".u .lld,:n 1 .
the girls teased Teddy mirthfully about
being protector of three helpless wn m-
en; then the lights were put out ar, d
the house was still. Teddy,
who was very sleepy, was in
bed in less time .than it takes
to tell about it, and fast asleep;
and it seemed only a minute
later when he woke with a
start, and heard a queer noise
outside his window. For a
moment he lay still, scarcely
breathing, listening to the
sounds; then, as he became
wider awake, he decided that
some one was certainly try-
ing to enter the house. There
were surely men talking in
low tones beneath his window. .
He stole over, peered through /
the blinds, and could see two .7/
figures below. The men were TEDDY SPENDS THE NIGHT IN THE POLICE-STATION. (SEE PAGE 363.)
evidently going to enter by the butler's pantry wide open, remnants of a feast were scattered
window, and in a few seconds would be in the over the table and floor, and the sideboard was
house. What was it best to do ? Should he rouse bare of silver. He gave one gasp, stood for a






TEDDY BAIRD'S LUCK.


second paralyzed with astonishment, and then
rushed out into the hall, for no particular rea-
son, really too much excited to know what he
was doing. In his rush he upset a chair, which
fell against the fire-irons with a crash, and al-
most instantly a white-gowned figure appeared
at the head of the stairs, and a sleepy voice
said:
"Why, child, what are you doing down
there at this time of night? What was that
noise ?"
Teddy lifted his round, excited face, and
held up a warning finger. Sh-sh-sh!" he
said in a whisper; "it 's burglars! They 've
taken the silver and made a mess of things down
here. I thought I could scare them off without
waking you up, but I got here too late. They're
going off now, I guess. I '11 go and see."
Cousin Ellie walked down to the first stair-
landing, and spoke sternly. Come up here
this minute," she commanded; and Teddy
could not help smiling at the contrast of her
extreme dignity with her airy costume. Come
up now, Teddy, please," she pleaded; "they
may come back any minute and shoot you.
Oh, dear, if John were only home! What shall
we do ?"
Teddy was about to speak reassuringly of his
powers as a watch-dog, but at that minute his
eyes, which had been uneasily watching the
doors and windows, caught sight of something
in the back hall that made him take one jump
toward it; then he gave a groan, and his ex-
citement made him forget to lower his voice.
"They've taken Mabel's bicycle!" he said
-" her brand-new birthday present, and left an
old rattle-trap of a man's wheel! The scoun-
drels! The sneaks! I '11 be. even with them!
I '11 get that back, I will, if I go to land's end
to catch 'em! They sha'n't have that wheel-
no, they sha'n't! "
While he talked Teddy was examining the
substituted wheel, and pushing it toward the
door; and finally Cousin Ellie realized what he
was going to do. Forgetting her fear, she fairly
ran downstairs to catch the youth and drag him
captive up to safety; but she was not quick
enough. He had darted into the dining-room
and back. "They 've gone he called out.
"They won't have ten seconds' headway! I '11


get 'em and their booty see if I don't! He
seemed to be almost beside himself with ex-
citement, and was outside the door and lost in
the shadow of the elms before his cousin could
reach him.
As quick as a flash he was on the old wheel
and away, scorching with main force down the
carriage-road, and then out into the quiet street.
Ahead of him, to the right, he saw, or thought
he saw, two men on bicycles, and his excited
fancy could almost see the gleam of silver in
the bundles strapped to their wheels. On he
went, faster and faster, with no thought of fear,
his anger giving him double strength as he
bent over the handle-bars and saw that he
was gaining on the shapes ahead. The trees
and buildings cast strange shadows across the
road, and several times he was deceived by
them into the thought that he was within arm's
length of the thieves. Along the main street
they went, and along went Teddy. He gave a
furious spurt, coasted down the hill like a
will-o'-the-wisp, came nearer and nearer to them;
he could hear the whir of their machines, and
felt waves of hot exultation flash over him as
he planned what to say when he should rush
across their path and stop them. A dozen
more revolutions would do it; then, with the
suddenness of an earthquake, a great form
loomed up beside Teddy, a hand grasped his
flying coat, a club was brandished in the air,
and a rough voice called out:
Hold on! hold on! Off, and give an ac-
count of yerself, ridin' at this time o' night
widout a light!"
Teddy made a wild struggle to free himself
and go on, but the grasp of his coat was too
firm to admit of a single motion, so he tumbled
off his wheel and confronted the policeman, re-
membering then for the first time that he had
no lantern.
Let me go, I say! you must--you shall/"
he exclaimed hastily. Any law in the land
will protect me! There were thieves in our

house that took my cousin's wheel, and I 'm
going to catch them and get it. Hang a light!
Let me go, or I '11 lose 'em! "
Teddy was preparing to remount, but the
policeman held his ground firmly. No, sir! "
he said; "not yet. Oi 'm sorry, sir; indade


362






TEDDY BAIRD'S LUCK.


Oi be, but law 's law, and Oi 'm here to ketch
those that goes ag'in' it."
But I don't go against it! Teddy was in
a frenzy now, for the shadows ahead had dis-
appeared around the bend of the road. "I 'd
have lighted my lamp if I 'd had time. I ain't
a sneak, and my father 's one of the common
council. I know as much about law as you
do, and I say you have a right to let me go.
How much is the fine for riding without a
light ? Can't you pay it for me in the morn-
ing, and let me go now?"
He put his hand in his pocket, not noticing
that the man was watching him with grim
amusement depicted on every feature of his
face; and in a moment he realized that he was
airily dressed in white, with a bath-wrapper as
overcoat, and not a cent nor a pocket had he!
It was too much even for an excited person
to see without a smile, and all at once the hu-
mor of the situation came over Teddy, and he
burst out in a hearty laugh, in which the police-
man joined him. I say," said Teddy finally,
"you must believe me, or else you 'd take me
two-forty to the insane-asylum, for being out in
this rig!" And then he said ruefully: "What-
ever can I do? I have n't got a cent, as you
can see. You'd better let me go. You 've done
enough mischief for one night's work spoiled
my fun, and made my cousin lose her new
wheel. I '11 send you the five dollars to-mor-
row."
Teddy was supporting himself against his
wheel and looking up anxiously at his burly
companion; but as he did not answer instantly,
Teddy went on: "Well, old Cerberus, what '11
you do? Think quick, for this is rather a
breezy out-of-door costume! And then, with
a spasm of regret, he groaned: Oh, I say,
this is hard luck! What are you going to do
about it? "
"There's but one thing to do, sir"-the
policeman, for all his amuseinent and interest in
this strange case, was still firm -" ye '11 have
to come wid me."
"Where?" Teddy's voice was eager, and
the policeman answered, with a grin:
Oh, just beyant the corner. They '11 put
you up in foine shape till morning."
"You mean in jail ?" Teddy gasped it out


as though the end of all things had come, and
the policeman laughed once more.
Call it a hotel," he said; an' it '11 be more
fit fer the likes o' youse, but I guess ye 've got
about the shape uv it! "
At last the truth, the whole, bare, absolute
truth, dawned on Teddy, and he was silent,
dazed by the proportions which his expedition
had assumed. As meekly as possible he fol-
lowed his guide until they came in sight of the
police station. Then he stopped short.
Oh, I say," he said, "it 's a fake. You
would n't lodge me there? Let me go, I say!
Why, man, I went off like a crazy creature, and
left my poor cousin to worry. Let me go!"
But even as he spoke, they were ascending
the stairs and passing through the long, silent
hall.
It 's no good frettin'," remarked the police-
man, cheerfully; "law 's law. The loidy.'ll not
have to be scairt long."
And Teddy, really frightened now, and resist-
ing at every step, was marshaled into an apart-
ment to serve out his first term as a prisoner.
He was surprised to find that the room was
not half so bad as he had feared. It was clean,
as was the cot-bed, and there was no evidence
that he was a prisoner except that when he was
left alone he heard the key turn in the lock
from the outside. For a time he just walked
up and down, too much excited to attempt to
sleep. He was calm enough to think, and he
realized what a senseless thing he had under-
taken, and how selfish he had been to leave the
house with so little thought of his cousin's fright.
His remorse was keen, for Teddy's heart was
in the right place, and he conjured up all sorts
of dreadful things that might have happened
through his thoughtlessness. For an hour he
paced the room, ashamed and penitent; then he
began to feel utterly tired out, and, throwing
himself on the bed, knew nothing more until it
was broad daylight.
It took some time for him to come to him-
Sself, and become conscious of where he was and
of what had happened; then, at the sight of his
clothes, the truth came over him, and his one
thought was to get away to get some word
to the Holcombes. At once he made inquiries
-as to how long he would be imprisoned; and








when he found that it was only a matter of It had been a weary, dreadful night at Sun-
depositing the required fine, he immediately nybrook. When Mrs. Holcombe had seen
despatched a small boy to Sunnybrook with a Teddy disappear through the door, and had not
dared to go after him, she had
S awakened the girls, and they
had all waited and watched
through the remainder of the
night, hoping each moment that
I he would come in. Though
knowing his fearless impulsive-
ess, they could not believe
that he would do so reckless a
thing as to try to pursue the
thieves. It was soon evident
that the burglars had gone at
once, after they had secured
their booty; for not a sound
broke the stillness in the house.
The silver which had been
taken from the sideboard was
not especially valuable, and
the wheel could be replaced;
so it was only Teddy about
whom they worried.
Crazy boy! how could he
be so foolish ? What could I
say to his mother if anything
should happen to him! What
shall we do?" moaned Mrs.
Holcombe over and over, as
the hours wore on and still
Teddy did not come.
At last morning came, and
with it the note, which was an
unspeakable relief, but at the
same time made the affair as-
sume a most mysterious aspect.
In jail ? for what? While
they were busily discussing the
matter, and at the same time
"'I SAY, DO YOU WANT TO SEE THE LATEST THING IN CLOTHES?' TEDDY ASKED." clearing up the demolished din-
ing-room, there was a whistle
note. That somewhat quieted the alarm there, at the door, and ili walked Teddy, wrapped in
but added to the curiosity about the runaway; a huge ulster!
for the note simply said: "1Jail-birds allowed here ? he queried.
DEAR COUSIN ELLIE: I am a jail-bird, and for the "I say, do you want to see the latest thing
honor of the family please send five dollars by bearer to in clothes ? and, throwing back the ulster, he
get me out. Instead of catching the thieves, I got caught stood before the astonished girls in his costume
myself; that's all the difference. Next time I '11 take a
light. No; next time I won't go at all. of the night before.
POLICE-STATION. Penitently, TEDDY. It was very comical, his story of his flight;


TEDDY BAIRD'S LUCK.


[MAR.






TEDDY BAIRD'S LUCK.


and his ridiculous costume gave such an air of
reality to the whole that his listeners were con-
vulsed with laughter. Now that it was over,
Teddy saw the funny side of it all, and brought
it out very vividly. Even Mrs. Holcombe
could not help laughing, but at the end of
the story she spoke very severely. However,
Teddy was so honestly penitent that she could
not remain angry after his manly apology for
the anxiety he had caused her.
You see, I did n't think about another thing
but how broken up Helen would be about her
wheel, and that 's the truth! he said; and he
added: "Perhaps it might be a good thing if
I got some clothes on that would n't scare
the natives, and then I don't think I would ob-
ject to breakfast, Cousin Ellie, now that you
mention it!"
It will be
ready as soon
as you are,
dear boy," she
said; "we had
no thought of
eating before."
And as he
went out of the
door she ex-
claimed,"You
certainly have
had a real
adventure at
last!"
At the word
Teddy turned,
gave one big
bound out into
the room, and
thenstoodstar-
ing at her un-
til she said,
"Why, what
is the matter ?
I did not
mean -"
With that
he made a
rush, and hug-
ged her until
she cried out "'HOORRAY! HOORRAY! I'LL HAVE


for release; then, the bath-wrapper floating
in the breeze, he danced a war-dance which
made everything in the room shake, and finally
stopped breathless in front of Helen, flapping
his arms and crying excitedly: "Where 's a
paper and pencil! Tell me quick! Hoorray!
Hoorray! I '11 have that prize now, and
no mistake! and I never thought about it
until this very minute! Change my clothes
and eat breakfast first? Indeed I won't!
Here! Give me the pencil and I '11 go up-
stairs and do it by myself. An adventure?
Well, I should think! "
With half a dozen strides he cleared the
stairs, and was about to vanish from sight
when Helen called up: "Teddy! Teddy! wait
a minute! How about your luck now?"
S Oh," answered Teddy, smiling over
Stie bani;t.rs, it's all right! The
-_ b:ithcr -. -s, I did n't know it
'- :re p.'.licemian's clothes, or I 'd
," Ia,.e ,--auglu it long ago!"-
.7 .nid i. idl.J. with a chuckle:
S"\\iat rill I iear mother say,
Mhl ,-on. I told you so !'"
A-\ i, he "ia; not disappointed.
Mic- B.aird -lid say it, not only
S..i-h' slihe heard the marvelous
tale, but al;.) on the opening
da o'f sclihool, when Teddy,
junior member of the
-c.:,rn Athletic Club,
aftr receiving the
congratulations of the
boys, walked
proudly home
by her side.
And Helen's
bicycle ? Why,
S thepoliceforce,
ashamed of
having halted
Teddy, made
up for it by
soon capturing
the thieves
and by recov-
ering the bi-
cycle and most
- THAT PRIZE NOW, AND NO MISTAKE!'" of the silver.


1897.]











THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS.


BY WILLIAM HENRY SHELTON.


[Begun in the November number. ]

CHAPTER IX.

THE PLATEAU RECEIVES A NAME.

T was now October, and time to be-
gin harvesting the crop on the
little plantation, which some-
thing very like an inspiration
had prompted Philip to plant.
'i While Lieutenant Coleman
continued work on the house,
stopping the chinks between
the logs with clay, and repair-
ing the roof of the hut with
spare shingles, Bromley and
Philip "topped" the corn, cutting off the stalks
above the ripened ears. Then the potatoes
were thrown out of the mellow soil with a
wooden shovel, and left to dry in the sun,
while a level place was prepared in the center
of the plot, and thickly spread with a carpet
of dry stalks. Upon this surface, after re-
moving a few bushels to the hut, the crop
was gathered into a conical heap, and thatched
over with stalks, and then the whole was thickly
covered with earth and trenched about to turn
off the water.
It was estimated that this cache contained
thirty bushels, which, according to the table in
the Blue Book (Revised Army Regulations),
would exceed the potato ration necessary for
the maintenance of three men for a period of
five years.
From the day of their arrival on the moun-
tain, Lieutenant Coleman had never failed to
make a daily entry in the station journal; and
now that they had set up a country for them-
selves, he foresaw that the continuance of this
practice would be necessary if they were not
to lose the record of weeks and months. His
entry was always brief. Often it was no more


than the date, and even the more important
events were set down with the utmost brevity
and precision.
As the commissary supply of yellow bars di-
minished, it was evident that the time would
soon come when they should be obliged to make
their own soap. Back of the chestnut tree in
which they had taken refuge from the bear was
a peculiar hollowed rock, and above it a flat
shelf of stone, on which Philip erected a hollow
log for leaching ashes. A little patient chip-
ping of the upper stone with the ax-head made
a shallow furrow along which the lye would
trickle from the leach, and fall into the natural
basin in the rock below, which was large enough
to hold a half barrel. This was a happy device,
as the strong liquid would have eaten its way
through any vessel other than an iron pot or
an earthen jar, of which unfortunately they
possessed neither.
They had but a limited supply of hard corn,
from which they selected the best ears for the
next year's planting. These they braided to-
gether by the husks, and hung up in yellow
festoons from the rafters of the hut, which they
continued to use as a storehouse. Much of
what remained of their small crop would be
needed by the fowls in the winter, and up to
this time they had made no use of it for their
own food.
Meal was out of the question, and to break
the flinty kernels between stones was a tedious
process to which they had not yet been forced
to resort.
The presence of the lye, however, suggested
to Bromley the hulled corn of his New England
grandmother; which he had seen her prepare
by soaking and boiling the kernels in a thin
solution of lye. By this means the hulls or
skins were removed, and after cleansing from
potash, and boiling all day, the unbroken ker-
nels became as white and tender as rice.






THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS.


This satisfied the three soldiers for a time,
and made an agreeable addition to their diet
of bear steak and potatoes. In the mountains
of Tennessee Lieutenant Coleman had once
seen a rude hydraulic contrivance called a
Slow-John, which was a sort of lazy man's
mill. To construct this affair it was necessary
to have a bucket, which Bromley set about
making by the slow process of burning out a
section of chestnut log with the red-hot ramrod
of a carbine.
At a short distance above the house the
branch which flowed from the spring, after
making its refreshing way between grassy
banks, tumbled over a succession of ledges
which ended in a small cascade, and twelve
feet below this waterfall there was a broad flat
rock which laved its mossy sides in the branch,
and showed a clean flat surface above the
level of the water. Below this rock they built
a dam of stones, by means of which they could
flood its surface.
Four feet upstream from the rock a log
was fixed from bank to bank for a fulcrum, and
upon this rested a movable lever, the short arm
of which terminated above the submerged rock,
while the long arm just touched the water of
the cascade. A wooden pin set in the under
log passed through a slot in the lever so as to
hold it in position, and at the same time give it
free play. Another flat stone of about thirty
pounds weight, which was the pestle of the
mortar, was lashed with grape-vine thongs to
the short arm of the lever directly over the
submerged stone. To the long arm was at-
tached Bromley's bucket, bailed with a strong
wire, and so hung as to catch the water of the
cascade. As the bucket filled and sank, its
weight raised the flat stone higher and higher
above the submerged rock until the bucket met
a bar fixed to tilt its contents into the stream,
when the upper millstone came down upon its
fellow with a fine splash and thud. After a
wall of clay had been built about the surface
where the two stones met, to keep the corn
in place, the Slow-John was ready for work.
It was slow, but it was sure, and after that,
when any of the three soldiers awoke in the
night, it was cheerful to hear the regular splash
and crash of the Slow-John, like the ticking of


a huge clock, lazy enough to tick once a min-
ute, and patient enough to keep on ticking for
two days and nights to pulverize as many quarts
of corn.
And now, for three young men who had sol-
emnly renounced their country and cut them-
selves off voluntarily from all intercourse with
their kind, they were about as cheerful and con-
tented as could be expected. In spite of the
great disaster which they believed had befallen
the National cause, their lungs expanded in the
rare mountain air and the good red blood
danced in their veins, and with youth and
health of body it was impossible to take an
altogether gloomy view of life. They had at
first tried hard to be miserable, but nature was
against them and the effort had been a failure.
In their free life they could no more resist the
infection of happiness than the birds in the trees
could refrain from singing, and so it came to
pass that in view of the bountiful harvest they
had gathered, and the comfortable house they
had built, and all the domestic conveniences
they had contrived, Lieutenant Coleman came
out boldly in fav6r of setting apart Thursday,
the 24th day of November, as a Day of Thanks-
giving, and quite forgot to name it as a day of
humiliation as well. To this the others joyfully
agreed, and agreed, moreover, that from that
day forward the plateau should be called Sher-
man Territory in memory of the general they
most admired.
When this first holiday dawned on the moun-
tain, the three soldiers arrayed themselves in
full uniform for the ceremony of naming their
possessions. Bromley and Philip buckled on
their cavalry swords and slung their carbines at
their backs, and Lieutenant Coleman, for the
last time, assumed his discarded rank, to take
command. The arms had been polished the
day before until they gleamed and flashed in
the morning light, and the little army of two
was dressed and faded and inspected, and then
left at parade rest while Lieutenant Coleman
brought out the flag, How their honest hearts
swelled with pride to think that here, alone, in
all the world, that flag would continue to float
with an undiminished field of stars Little did
they dream that on that very morning hundreds
like it were waving in the heart of Georgia over


367






THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS.


Sherman's legions on their march to the sea.
When at last it blew out from the staff they
gathered under its folds, and sang the Star
Spangled Banner with tears in their eyes; and


CHRISTENING "SHERMAN TERRITORY.


as the last words of the good old song rang out
over the mountain top, Philip and Bromley dis-
charged their carbines, as a salute, at the order
of Lieutenant Coleman, and all three cheered
lustily for the old flag and Sherman Territory.


This was to be their last military ceremony,
and having no further use for their swords they
arranged them with belts and scabbards into a
handsome decoration against the chimney-piece,
and crossed above
.. them the three red
S and white flags of the
station. The "Re-
S'-'., ': vised Army Regula-

prayer-book stood
on the mantelpiece
Alongside the spy-
S glass in its leather
case. The few ar-
ticles of extra cloth-
ing hung in a line
on the wall just op-
posite to the three
bunks, whose under
layer of pine boughs
gave an aromatic
perfume to the room.
After the ceremony
of naming the pla-
teau, and having
fixed the trophies to
their satisfaction, the
three exiles took
down their sky-blue
overcoats from the
line, for the Novem-
ber air was nipping
cold, and set out
with the two carbines
and an empty sack
to keep Thanksgiv-
ing in the good old
country way. They
were still rather sad
after what had hap-
pened in the morn-
ing; but by the time
they were back, all
the gloom had worn
off, for they brought with them two rabbits and
a bag of chestnuts, and appetites sharpened
by exercise in the keen air.
Philip made the stew and Bromley fried two
chickens of their own raising, one after the


368


[MAR.






THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS.


other, on a half canteen, and the potatoes left
to themselves burst their jackets in the ashes
with impatience to be eaten. Each man made
his own coffee in his own blackened tin cup,
and drank it with a keener relish because it was
near the last of their commissary stock.
While they were eating and drinking within,
the sky without had become thick with clouds
blown up on the east wind, so that when they
looked out at the door, they saw Tumbler, the
bear, who also had been stuffing himself with
acorns and ants which he had pawed out of a
rotten log, rolling home for shelter.
There was yet time before the storm broke,
and away they went up the hill as happy as
lords, to load themselves with dead chestnut
limbs and a few resinous sticks of fat pine; and
when night came, and with it the rain, there
was a warm fire in the new chimney, and a stick
of light-wood thrust behind the back log lighted
the interior of the house with a good forty-ada-
mantine-candle power. Tumbler lay rolled up
in his favorite corner, blinking his small eyes at
the unusual light, and from time to time he
passed his furry paw over his sharp nose, and
gave forth a low grunt of satisfaction. Philip
sat against the chimney opposite Tumbler,
stirring chestnuts in the ashes with a ramrod,
while Bromley put away the last of the supper
things, and Lieutenant Coleman gazed out of
the open window into the slanting rain, which
beat a merry tattoo on the shingles, and tossed
at intervals a sturdy drop on the hissing fire.
It was certainly not the cheerful interior
beaming with light and heat that turned Lieu-
tenant Coleman's thoughts back to the dark
cloud of disasters which had overwhelmed the
National arms; it might have been the dismal
outlook from the square window into the dark-
ness and the storm. At all events, he turned
abruptly about as if a new idea had struck
him.
George," he exclaimed, with conviction, it
all began with the death of Uncle Billy."


"So it did," said Bromley; "and after Sher-
-man's army was out of the way, Johnston
probably joined his forces with Hood, defeated
Thomas, and re-took Chattanooga. He could
hardly have accomplished all that by August
20, but his cavalry must have struck our line
of stations on that date."
"Exactly so, George," Lieutenant Coleman
responded. "If they had captured the Tenth
Station alone, with Captain Swann, the line
would have been useless, and no further mes-
sages could have reached us. If Swann had
found the line broken behind him, he would
certainly have flagged that news to me without
delay."
"Well, what 's the odds ?" said Philip, draw-
ing his chestnuts out upon the hearthstone.
The jig was up and Captain Swann knew it.
If they had taken any station this side of the
tenth mountain, the effect to us would have
been the same."
"So it would," said Lieutenant Coleman
sadly, turning again to look out into the storm
-" so it would."
It is a blessing that we are ignorant of some
things that have happened," said Bromley, who
was disposed to look on the dark side. Well,"
he continued, "if the Rebs conquer everything
tley can turn the Northern States back into
Territories, and carry slavery into Massa-
chusetts."
"Bah! exclaimed Philip. "To think of
the Territory of Ohio! The Territory of Penn-
sylvania! The Territory of New York! "
Don't, Philip, don't; I can't bear it!" said
Lieutenant Coleman; "it is all too humiliating
to think of! Imagine it! The Emancipation
Proclamation is not worth the paper it is
written on!"
"We made a wise choice when we deter-
mined to stay on this mountain and form a
new nation," Bromley declared.
And they all cried Three cheers for SHER-
MAN TERRITORY.'


(To be continued.)


VOL. XXIV.-47.


2897.]


369










MASTER SKYLARK.


By JOHN BENNETT.

[Beg m in the November number.] and spoke ye fair, and lodged ye soft, and clad
CHAPTER XV. ye fine, and wrought the whole town on to
cheer ye, and to fill your purses full of gold?
LONDON TOWN. What, sir," said he, turning to the gaping far-
COME," growled the blacksmith, gripping, rier what if I promised thee to turn thine
his tongs, what wilt thou have o' the lad ? every word to a silver sixpence, and thy smutty
"What will I have o' the lad ? said Master grins to golden angels what wouldst thou ?
Carew, mimicking the blacksmith in a most Knock me in the head with thy dirty sledge,
comical way, with a wink at the crowd, as if he and bawl foul play ? "
had never been angry at all, so quickly could Nay, that I 'd not," roared the burly smith,
he change his face-" What will I have o' the with a stupid, ox-like grin, scratching his
lad ?" and all the crowd laughed. "Why, bless tousled head; "I 'd say, 'Go it, bully, and a
thy gentle heart, good man, I want to turn his plague on him that said thee nay 1'"
farthings into round gold crowns if thou and And yet when I would fill this silly fellow's
thine infernal hot shoe do not make zanies of jerkin full of good gold Harry shovel-boards
us all! Why, Master Smith, 't is to London for the simple drawing of his breath, ye bawl
town I 'd take him, and fill his hands with Foul play!'"
more silver shillings than there be cast-off shoes "What, here! come out; lad," roared the
in thy whole shop." smith, with a great horse-laugh, swinging Nick
La, now, harken till him!" gaped the forward and thwacking him jovially between
smith, staring in amazement. the shoulders with his brawny hand; "come
And here thou needs must up and spoil it out, and go along o' the master here,- 't is for
all, because, forsooth, the silly child goes a trifle thy good,- and ho-ome wull keep, I trow, till
sick for home and whimpers for his minnie !" thou dost come again."
"But the lad saith thou hast stealed him But Nick hung back, and clung to the black-
awa-ay from 's ho-ome," rumbled the smith, like smith's grimy arm, crying in despair: I will
a doubtful earthquake; "and we '11 ha' no steal- na oh, I will na! "
ing o' lads awa-ay from ho-ome in County "Tut, tut!" cried Master Carew. "Come,
Herts!" Nicholas; I mean thee well, I '11 speak
"Nay, that we won't!" cried one. Hur- thee fair, and I '11 treat thee true"-and he
rah, John Smith-fair play, fair play!" and smiled so frankly that even Nick's doubts al-
there came an ugly, threatening murmur from most wavered. Come, I'll swear it on my
the crowd, hilt," said he.
"What! Fair play?" cried Master Carew, The smith's brow clouded. "Nay," said he;
turning so sharply about, with his hand upon we '11 no swearing by hilts or by holies here;
his poniard, that each made as if it were not he the bailiff will na have it, sir."
but his neighbor had growled. Why, sirs, "Good! then upon mine honour as an
what if I took any one of ye out of your poverty Englishman! cried Carew. "What, how,
and common clothes down into London town, bullies ? Upon mine honour as an English-
horseback like a king, and had ye sing before man!-how is it? Here we be, all English-
the Queen, and play for earls, and talk with the men together "- and he 'clapped his hand to
highest dames in all the land; and fed ye well, Will Hostler's shoulder, whereat Will stood up






MASTER SKYLARK.


very straight and looked around, as if all at
once he were somebody, instead of somewhat
less than nobody at all of any consequence;
"What ye are all for fair play? -and I
am for fair play, and good Master Smith, with
his beautiful shoe, here, is for fair play Why,
sirs, my bullies, we are all for fair play; and
what more can a man ask than good, down-
right English fair play? Nothing, say I. Fair
play first, last, and all the time!"--and he
waved his hand. Hurrah for downright Eng-
lish fair play!"
"Hurrah, hurrah!" bellowed the crowd,
swept along like bubbles in a flood. "Fair
play, says we English fair play hurrah! "
And those inside waved their hands, and those
that were .outside tossed up their caps, in sheer
delight of good fair play.
"Hurrah, my bullies! That 's the cry!"
said Carew, in his hail-fellow-well-met, royal
way. "Why, we 're the very best of fellows,
and the very fastest friends! Come, all to the
old Three Lions inn, and douse a can of brown
March brew at my expense. To the Queen,
to good fair play, and to all the fine fellows in
Albans town! "
And what did the crowd do but raise a
shout, like a parcel of school-boys loosed for
a holiday, and troop off to the Three Lions inn
at Master Carew's heels, Will Hostler and the
brawny smith bringing up the rear with Nick
between them, hand to collar, half forgotten by
the rest, and his heart too low for further grief.
And while the crowd were still roaring over
their tankards and cheering good fair play,
Master Gaston Carew up with his prisoner into
the saddle, and, mounting himself, with the
bandy-legged man grinning opposite, shook
the dust of old St. Albans from his horse's
heels.
"Now, Nicholas Attwood," said he, grimly,
as they galloped away, "hark 'e well to what I
have to say, and do not let it slip thy mind.
I am willed to take thee to London town--
dost mark me ? -and to London town thou
shalt go, warm or cold. By the whistle of the
Lord High Admiral, I mean just what I say!
So thou mayst take thy choice."
He griped Nick's shoulder as they rode, and
glared into his eyes as if to sear them with his


own. Nick heard his poniard grating in its
sheath, and shut his eyes so that he might not
see the master-player's horrid stare; for the
opening and shutting, opening and shutting, of
the blue lids made him shudder.
And what's more," said Carew, sternly, I
shall call thee Master Skylark from this time
forth- dost hear? And when I bid thee go,
thou 'It go; and when I bid thee come, thou 'lt
come; and when I say, 'Here, follow me!'
thou 'lt follow like a dog to heel! He drew
up his lip until his white teeth showed, and
Nick, hearing them gritting together, shrank
back dismayed.
There! laughed Carew, scornfully. "He
that knows better how to tame a vixen or to
cozen a pack of gulls, now let him speak!"
and said no more until they passed by Chipping
Barnet. Then, "Nick," said he, in a quiet,
kindly tone, as if they had been friends for
years, this is the place where Warwick fell";
and pointed down the field. "There in the
corner of that croft they piled the noble dead
like corn upon a threshing-floor. Since then,"
said he, with quiet irony, "men have stopped
making English kings as the Dutch make
dolls, of a stick and a poll thereon."
Pleased with hearing his own voice, he would
have gone on with many another thing; but
seeing that Nipk listened not at all to what he
said, he ceased, and rode on silently or chatting
with the others.
The country through Middlesex was in most
part flat, and heavy forests overhung the road
from time to time. There the players slipped
their poniards, and rode with rapier in hand;
for many a dark deed and cruel robbery had
been done along this stretch of Watling Street.
And as they passed, more than one dark-visaged
rogue with branded hand and a price upon his
head peered at them from the copses by the
way.
In places where the woods crept very near
they pressed closer together and rode rapidly;
and the horse-boy and the grooms lit up the
matches of their pistolets, and laid their har-
quebuses ready in rest, and blew the creeping
sparkle snapping red at every turn; not so
much really fearing an attack upon so stout a
party of reckless, dashing blades, as being over-


37i






MASTER SKYLARK.


awed by the great, mysterious silence of the
forest, the semi-twilight all about, and the
cold, strange-smelling wind that fanned their
faces.
The wild spattering of hoofs in water-pools
that lay unsucked by the sun in shadowy


--- --




"EVERY OLD SOLDIER WAS TO NICK'S EYES A POSSIBLE
HERO."
stretches, the grim silence of the riders, and the
wary eying of each covert as they passed, sent
a thrill of excitement into Nick's heart too keen
for any boy to resist.
Then, too, it was no everyday tale to be
stolen away from home. It was a wild, strange
thing with a strange, wild sound to it, not alto-
gether terrible or unpleasant to a brave boy's
ears in that wonder-filled age, when all the
world was turned adventurer, and England led
the fore; when Francis Drake and the Golden
Hind," John Hawkins and the Victory," Fro-
bisher and his cockleshells, were gossip for
every English fireside; when the whole world


rang with English steel, and the wide sea
foamed with English keels, and the air was full
of the blaze of the living and the ghosts of
the mighty dead. And down in Nick's plucky
young English heart there came a spark like
that which burs in "the soul of a mariner
when for the first time an unknown sea rolls on
before his eyes.
Every old soldier they met upon the road
was to Nick's eyes a possible hero coming from
the conquest of barbaric regions; and he gazed
curiously at the battered arms and bronzed
faces.
So he rode on bravely, filled with a sense
of daring and the thrill of perils more remote
than Master Carew's altogether too adjacent
poniard, as well as with a sturdy determination
to escape at the first opportunity, in spite of all
the master-player's threats.
Up Highgate Hill they rattled in a bracing
northeast' wind, the rugged country bowling
back against the tumbled sky. Far to south a
rusty haze had gloomed against the sun like a
midday fog, mile after mile; and suddenly, as
they topped the range and cleared the last low
hill, they saw a city in the south spreading away
until it seemed to Nick to girdle half the world
and to veil the sky in a reek of murky sea-coal
smoke.
There! said Carew, reining in the gray, as
Nick looked up and felt his heart almost stand
still; "since Parma burned old Antwerp, and
the Low Countries are dead, there lies the mar-
ket-heart of all the big round world! "
"London! cried Nick; and, catching his
breath with a quick gasp, sat speechless, star-
ing.
Carew smiled. "Ay, Nick," said he, cheer-
ily; "'t -is London town. Pluck up thine heart,
lad, and be no more cast down; there lies a
New World ready to thine hand. Thou canst
win it if thou wilt. Come, let it be thine
Indies,, thou Francis Drake, and I thy galleon
to carry home the spoils! And cheer up. It
grieves my heart to see thee sad. Be merry
for my sake."
For thy sake?" gasped Nick, staring
blankly in his face. "Why, what hast thou
done for me ?" A sudden sob surprised him,
and he clenched his fists -it was too cruel


[MAR.






MASTER SKYLARK.


irony. "Why, sir, if thou wouldst only leave
me go!"
"Tut, tut!" cried Carew, angrily. "Still
harping on that same old string ? Why, from
thy waking face I thought thou hadst dropped
it long ago. Let thee go ? Not for all the
wealth in Lombard Street! Dost think me a
goose-witted gull ?- and dost ask what I have
done for thee? Thou simpleton! I have
made thee rise above the limits of thy wildest
dream--have shod thy feet with gold--have
filled thy lap with glory--have crowned thine
head with fame! And yet, What have I done
for thee?' Fie 1Thou art a stubborn-hearted
little fool. But, marry come up! I '11 mend
thy mind. I '11 bend thy will to suit my way,
or bieak it in the bending! "
Clapping his hand upon his poniard, he
turned his back, and did not speak to Nick
again.
And so they came down the Kentish Town
road through a meadow-land threaded with
flowing streams, the wild hill thickets of Hamp-
stead Heath to right, the huddling villages
of Islington, Hoxton, and Clerkenwell to left.
And as they passed through Kentish Town, past
Primrose Hill into Hampstead way, solitary
farm-houses and lowly cottages gave way to
burgher dwellings in orderly array, with manor-
houses here and there, and in the distance pal-
aces and towers reared their heads above the
crowding chimney-pots.
Then the players dressed themselves in fair
array, and flung their banners out, and came
through Smithfield to Aldersgate, mocking the
grim old gibbet there with railing gaiety; and
through the gate rode into London town, with
a long, loud cheer that brought the people
crowding to their doors, and set the shutters
creaking everywhere.
Nick was bewildered by the countless shift-
ing gables and the throngs of people flowing
onward like a stream, and stunned by the roar
that seemed to boil out of the very ground.
The horses' hoofs clashed on the unevenly
paved street with a noise like a thousand smith-
ies. The houses hung above him till they al-
most hid the sky, and seemed to be reeling and
ready to fall upon his head when he looked up;


so that he urged the little roan with his uneasy


heels, and wished himself out of this monstrous
ruck where the walls were so close together
that there was not elbow-room to live, and the
air seemed only heat, thick and stifling, full of
dust and smells.
Shop after shop, and booth on booth, until
Nick wondered where the gardens were; and
such a maze of lanes, byways, courts, blind
alleys, and passages that his simple country
footpath head went all into a tangle, and he
could scarcely have told Tottenham Court Road
from the River Thames.
All that he remembered afterward was that,
turning from High Holborn into the Farring-
don road, he saw a great church, under Lud-
gate Hill, with spire burned and fallen and its
massive tower, black with age and smoke, star-
ing on the town. But he was too confused to


"'LET ME OUT !' HE CRIED, BEATING UPON THE DOOR. 'LET
ME OUT, I SAY! "' (SEE NEXT PAGE.)
know whither they went or what he saw in
passing; for of such a forest of houses he had
never even dreamed; with people swarming
everywhere like ants upon a hill; and among
them all not one kind face he knew. Through






MASTER SKYLARK.


the spirit of adventure that had roused him for
a time welled up a great heart-sickness for his
mother and his home.
Out of a bewildered daze he came at last
to realize this much: that the master-player's
house-was very tall and very dark, standing in
a dismal, dirty street, and that ithad a gloomy
hallway full of shadows that crept and wavered
along the wall in the dim light of the late after-
noon.
Then the master-player pushed him up a
narrow staircase and along a black corridor to
a door at the end of the passage, through which
he thrust him into a darkness like night, and
slammed the door behind him.
Nick heard the bolts shoot heavily, and
Master Carew call through the heavy panels:
" Now, Jackanapes, sit down and chew the cud
of solitude awhile. It may cool thy silly pate
for thee, since nothing else will serve. When
thou hast found thy common sense, perchance
thou 'lt find thy freedom, not before." Then
his step went down the corridor, down the stair,
through the long hall a door banged with a
hollow sound that echoed through the house,
and all was still.
At first, in the utter darkness, Nick could not
see at all, and did not move for fear of falling
down' some awful hole; but as his eyes grew
used to the gloom he saw that he was in a little
room. The only window was boarded up, but
a dim light crept in through narrow cracks and
made faint bars across the air. Little motes
floated up and down these thin blue bars, wa-
vering in the uncertain light and then lost in
the darkness. Upon the floor was a pallet of
straw, covered with a coarse sheet, and having
a rough coverlet of sheepskin. A round log
was the only pillow.
Something moved. Nick, startled, peered
into the shadows: it was a strip of ragged
tapestry which fluttered on the wall. As he
watched it flapping fitfully there came a hollow
rattle in the wainscot, and an uncanny sound
like the moaning of wind in the chimney.
"Let me out!" he cried, beating upon the
door. "Let me out, I say I" A stealthy
footstep seemed to go away outside. Mother,
mother !" he cried shrilly, now quite unstrung
by fright, and beat frantically upon the door


until his hands ached; but no one answered.
The window was beyond his reach. Throwing
himself upon the hard pallet, he hid his eyes
in the coverlet, and cried as if his heart would
break.
CHAPTER XVI.

MA'M'SELLE CICELY CARE.

How long he lay there in a stupor of despair
Nick Attwood never knew. It might have
been days, or weeks, for all that he took heed;
for he was thinking of his mother, and there
was no room for more.
The night passed by. Then the day came,
by the lines of light that crept across the floor.
The door was opened, at his back, arid a
trencher of bread and meat thrust in. He did
not touch it, and the rats came out of the wall
and pulled the meat about, and gnawed holes
in the bread, and squeaked, and ran along the
wainscot but he did not care.
The afternoon dragged slowly by, and the
creeping light went up the wall until the roofs
across the street shut out the sunset. Some-
times Nick waked and sometimes he slept, he
scarce knew which nor cared; nor did he hear
the bolts grate cautiously, or see the yellow
candle-light steal in across the gloom.
Boy! said a soft little voice.
He started up and looked around.
For an instant he thought that he was dream-
ing, and was glad to think that he would waken
by and by from what had been so sad a dream,
and find himself safe in his own little bed in
Stratford town. For the little maid who stood
in the doorway was such a one as his eyes had
never looked upon before.
She was slight and graceful as a lily of the
field, and her skin was white as the purest wax,
save where a damask rose-leaf red glowed
through her cheeks. Her black hair curled
about her slender neck. Her gown was crim-
son, slashed with gold, cut square across the
breast and simply made, with sleeves just el-
bow-long, wide-mouthed, and lined with creamy
silk. Her slippers, too, were of crimson silk,
high-heeled, jaunty bits of things; her silken
stockings black. In one hand she held a tall
brass candlestick, and through the fingers of


374


[MAR.






MASTER SKYLARK.


the other the candle-flame made a ruddy glow
like the sun in the heart of a hollyhock. And
in the shadow of her hand her eyes looked out,
as Nick said long afterward, like stars in a
summer night.
Thinking it was all a dream, he sat and stared
at her.
"Boy!" she said again, quite gently, but
with a quaint little air of reproof, "where are
thy manners ? "
Nick got up quickly and bowed as best he
knew how. If not a dream, this was certainly
a princess and perchance his heart leaped
up perchance she came to set hirh free! He
wondered who had told her of him? Diccon
Field, perhaps, whose father had been Simon
Attwood's partner till he died, ast Michaelmas.
Diccon was in London now, printing books, he
had heard. Or maybe it was John, Hal Sad-
dler's older brother. No, it could not be John,
for John was with a carrier; and Nick had
doubts if carriers were much acquainted at
court.
Wondering, he stared, and bowed again.
Why, boy," said she, with a quaint air of
surprise, thou art a very pretty fellow! Why,
indeed, thou lookest like a good boy! Why
wilt thou be so bad and break my father's
heart ?"
Break thy father's heart ? stammered Nick.
"Pr'ythee, who is thy father, Mistress Prin-
cess ? "
Nay," said the little maid simply; "I am
no princess. I am Cicely Carew."
Cicely Carew?" cried Nick, clenching his
fists. "Art thou the daughter of that wicked
man, Gaston Carew ?"
My father is not wicked!" said she, pas-
sionately, drawing back from the threshold with
her hand trembling upon the latch. "Thou
shalt not say that I will not speak with thee
at all! "
"I do na care! If Master Gaston Carew is
thy father, he is the wickedest man in the
world!"
"Why, fie, for shame!" she cried, and
stamped her little foot. "How darest thou
say such a thing?"
"He hath stolen me from home," exclaimed
Nick indignantly; "and I shall never see my


mother any more!" With that he choked,
and hid his face in his arm against the wall.
The little maid looked at him with an air
of troubled surprise, and coming into the room,
touched him on the arm. "There," she said
soothingly; "don't cry!" and stroked him gently
as one would a little dog that was hurt. "My
father will send thee home to thy mother, I
know; for he is very kind and good. Some
one hath lied to thee about him."
Nick wiped his swollen eyes dubiously upon
his sleeve; yet the little maid seemed positive.
Perhaps, after all, there was a mistake some-
where.
"Art hungry, boy ?" she asked suddenly,
spying the empty trencher on the floor. There
is a pasty and a cake in the buttery, and thou
shalt have some of it if thou wilt not cry any
more. Come, I cannot bear to see thee cry-
it makes me weep myself; and that will blear
mine eyes,- and father will feel bad."
"If he but felt as bad as he hath made me
Sfeel--" began Nick wrathfully; but she laid her
little hand across his mouth. It was a very
white, soft, sweet little hand.
"Come," said she; "thou art hungry, and it
hath made thee cross! "- and with no more
ado, took him by the hand and led him down
the corridor into a large room where the last
daylight shone with a smoky glow.
The walls were wainscoted with many panels,
dark, old, and mysterious; and in a burnished
copper brazier at the end of the room cinna-
mon, rosemary, and bay were burning with a
pleasant smell. Along the walls were joined-
work chests for linen and napery, of brass-
bound oak one a black, old, tragic sea-chest,
carved with grim faces and weird griffins, that
had been cast up by the North Sea from the
wreck of a Spanish galleon of war. The floor
was waxed in the French fashion, and was so
smooth that Nick could scarcely keep his feet.
The windows were high up in the wall, with
their heads among the black roof-beams, which
with their grotesquely carven brackets were
half lost in the dusk. Through the windows
Nick could see nothing but a world of chim-
ney-pots.
"Is London town all smoke-pipes ?" he
asked confusedly.






MASTER SKYLARK.


"Nay," replied the little maid; "there are
people."
Pushing a chair up to the table, she bade him
sit down. Then pulling a tall, curiously-made
stool to the other side of the board, she perched
herself upon it like a fairy upon a blade of
grass. "Greg! she called imperiously, Greg!
What, how! Gregory Goole, I say! "
"Yes, ma'm'selle," replied a hoarse voice
without;.and through a door at the further end
of the room came the bandy-legged man with
the bow of crimson ribbon in his ear.
Nick turned a little pale; and when the fel-
low saw him sitting there, he came up hastily,
with a look like a crock of sour milk. "Tut,
tut! ma'm'selle," said he; Master Carew will
not.like this."
She turned upon him with an air of dainty
scorn. Since when hath father left his wits to
thee, Gregory Goole? I know his likes as
well as thou and it likes him not to let this
poor boy starve, I '11 warrant. Go, fetch the
pasty and the cake that are in the buttery, with
a glass of cordial,-the Certosa cordial,-and
that in the shaking of a black sheep's tail, or I
will tell my father what thou wottest of." And
she looked the very picture of diminutive se-
verity.
Very good, ma'm'selle; just as ye say," said
Gregory, fawning, with very poor grace, how-
ever. "But, knave," he snarled, as he turned
away, with a black scowl at Nick, "if thou dost
venture on any of thy scurvy pranks while I be
gone, I '11 break thy pate."
Cicely Carew knitted her brows. That is
a saucy rogue," said she; "but he hath served
my father well. And, what is much in Lon-
don town, he is an honest man withal, though
I have caught him at the Spanish wine behind
my father's back; so he doth butter his tongue
with smooth words when he hath speech with
me, for I am the lady of the house." She held
up her head with a very pretty pride. My
mother "
Nick caught his breath and his eyes filled.
Nay, boy," said she, gently; 't is I should
weep, not thou; for my mother is dead. I do
not think I ever saw her that I know," she
went on musingly; "but she was a French-
woman who served a murdered queen, and she


was the loveliest woman that ever lived."
Cicely clasped her hands and moved her lips.
Nick saw that she was praying, and bent his
head.
"Thou art a good boy," she said softly; "my
father will like that"; and then went quietly
on: "That is why Gregory Goole doth call
me 'ma'm'selle' because my mother was a
Frenchwoman. But I am a right English girl
for all that;. and when .they shout, God save
the Queen!' at the play, why, Ido, too! And
oh, boy," she cried, "it is a brave thing to
hear! and she clapped her hands with spark-
ling eyes. It drove the Spaniards off the sea,
my father ofttimes saith."
"Poh!" said Nick, stoutly, for he saw the
pasty coming in, they can na beat .us English-
men and with that fell upon the pasty as if it
were the Spanish Armada in one lump and he
Sir Francis Drake set on to do the job alone.
As he ate his spirits rose again, and he almost
forgot that he was stolen from his home, and
grew eager to be seeing the wonders of the
great town whose ceaseless roar came over the
housetops like a distant storm. He was still
somewhat in awe of this beautiful, flower-like
little maid, and listened in shy silence to the
wonderful tales she told: how that she had
seen the Queen, who had red hair, and pearls
like gooseberries on her cloak; and how the
court went down to Greenwich. But the
bandy-legged man kept popping his head in at
the door, and, after all, Nick was but in a prison-
house; so he grew quite dismal after a while.
"Dost truly think thy, father will leave me
go ?" he asked.
Of course he will," said she. "I cannot
see why thou dost hate him so? "
"Why, truly," hesitated Nick, "perhaps it is
not thy father that I hate, but only that he will
na leave me go. And if he would but leave
me go, perhaps I 'd love him very much in-
deed."
"Good, Nick! thou art a trump! cried
Master Carew's voice suddenly from the fur-
ther end of the hall, where in spite of all the
candles it was dark; and,. coming forward, the
master-player held out his hands in a most
genial way. "Come, lad, thy hand -'t is
spoken like a gentleman. Nay, I will kiss thee


376


[MAR.






MASTER SKYLARK.


-for I love thee, Nick, upon my word and on
the remnant of mine honour! Taking the
boy's half-unwilling hands in his own, he stooped
and kissed him upon the forehead.
Father," said Cicely, gravely, hast thou
forgotten me ? "


twined her arms about his neck and then lay
back with her head upon his shoulder, purring
like a kitten in his arms.
"Father," said she, patting his cheek, some
one hath told him naughty things of thee.
Come, daddy, say they are not so!"


CICELYY DARTED TO HIS SIDE WITH A FRIGHTENED CRY." (SEE NEXT PAGE.)


"Nay, sweetheart, nay," cried Carew, with
a wonderful laugh that somehow warmed the
cockles of Nick's forlorn heart; and turning
quickly, the master-player caught up the little
maid and kissed her again and again, so ten-
derly that Nick was amazed to see how one
so cruel could be so kind, and how so good a
little maid could love so bad a man; for she
VOL. XXIV.-48.


The master-player's face turned red as flame.
He coughed and looked up among the roof-
beams. "Why, of course they 're not," said
he, uneasily.
"There, boy!" cried she; "I told thee so.
Why, daddy, think!--they said that thou hadst
stolen him away from his own mother, and
would not leave him go!"


377






378
"Hollo! ejaculated the master-
ruptly, with a quiver in his voice;
hole thou hast made in the pasty,
"Ah, daddy," persisted Cicely, "a
hole it would make in his mother's
had been stolen away! "
"Wouldst like another draught
Nick ?" cried Carew hurriedly, rea
for the tall flagon with a trembling hai
good to cheer the troubled heart,
that thou hast any reason in the w
thy heart be troubled," he added hast
indeed, upon my word; for thou a
doorstep of a golden-lined success.
how the light shines through!" anc
up the flagon. "It is one of old
saline's Murano-Venetian glasses; a
thing, now, is it not ? 'T is good as
abroad!" but his hand was shaking
half the cordial missed the cup and
little shimmering pool upon the table
"And thou 'lt send him home aga
wilt thou not?"
Yes, yes, of course-why, to be su
send him anywhere that thou dost sa
heart: to Persia or Cathay-ay, to t
of the green-cheese moon, or to th
Tamburlaine the Great," and he
quick, dry, nervous laugh that had n
in it. "I had one of De Lannoy's
mian bottles, Nick," he rattled on
"but that butter-fingered rogue"--
his head at the outer stair-" dropped
and made a thousand most county
pences out of what cost me two poun
"But will ye truly leave me go,
tered Nick.
Why, of course-to be sure-ye
-yes, yes. But, Nick, it is too late
Why, come, thou couldst not go to-ni
't is dark, and thou a stranger in
'T is far to Stratford town-thou c
walk it, lad; there will be carr
Come, stay a while with Cicely anc
will make thee a right welcome guest
"That we will," cried Cicely, cla
hands. "Oh, do stay; I am so lo
The maid is silly, Margot old, and tl
in the wall."
"And thou must to the theater, m


MASTER SKYLARK.

player ab- sing for London town-ay, Nicholas," and
"what a Carew's voice rang proudly. The highest
Nick!" heads in London town must hear that voice
nd what a of thine, or I shall die unshrift. What! lad ? -
heart if he come all the way from Coventry, and never show
that face of thine, nor let them hear thy sky-
of cordial, lark's song? Why, 't were a shame! And,
ching out Nick, my lord the Admiral shall hear thee sing
nd. "'T is when he comes home again; perchance the
lad. Not Queen herself. Why, Nick, of course thou 'lt
orld to let sing. Thou hast not heart to say thou wilt not
:ily. "No, sing even for me whom thou hatest."
Lrt on the Nick smiled in spite of himself, for Cicely
See, Nick, was leaning on the arm of his chair, devouring
i he tilted him with her great dark eyes. Dost truly,
Jake Ves- truly sing?" she asked.
Beautiful Nick laughed and blushed, and Carew
any made laughed. "What, doth he sing ? Why, Nick,
g so that come, tune that skylark note of thine for little
ran into a Golden-heart and me. 'T will make her think
-top. she hears the birds in verity-and, Nick, the
in, daddy, lass hath never seen a bird that sang, except
within a cage. Nay, lad, this is no cage!"
ire-we 'll he cried, as Nick looked about and sighed.
y, Golden- "We will make it very home for thee-will
he far side Cicely and I."
e court .of "That we will!" cried Cicely. Come,
laughed a boy, sing for me my mother used to sing."
.o laughter At that Gaston Carew went white as a sheet,
red Bohe- and put his hand quickly up to his face.
feverishly; Cicely darted to his side with a frightened cry,
he nodded and caught his hand away. He tried to smile,
lit, smash! but it was a ghastly attempt. Tush, tush!
erfeit four- little one; 't was something stung me!" said
d sterling." he, huskily. "Sing, Nicholas, I beg of thee!"
sir? fal- There was such a sudden world of weariness
and sorrow in his voice that Nick felt a pity for
s, certainly he knew not what, and lifting up his clear
this night. young voice, he sang the quaint old madrigal.
eight. See, Carew sat with his face in his hand, and
the town. after it was done arose unsteadily and said,
:ouldst not "Come, Golden-heart, 't is music such as
iers anon. charmeth care and lureth sleep out of her dark
i me-we valley- we must be trotting off to bed."
!" That night Nick slept upon a better bed,
Lpping her with a sheet and a blue serge coverlid, and a
nely here! pillow stuffed with chaff.
he rats run But as he drifted off into a troubled dream-
land, he heard the door-bolt throb into its
ly lad, and socket, and knew that he was fastened in.
(To be continued.)












JED'S WINDMILL.


By GRACE WICKHAM CURRAN.


"Now, Jed, my boy, you must take good
care of mother and Amy while I am gone.
You are getting to be such a man that I don't
mind the long months away so much as I used
to. It will be a good many weeks yet before
the cold weather sets in, and you will have time
to get everything about the place snug."
The old bunty was slowly making its way
through the little cove, and up the river mouth,
propelled by the strong strokes of the father's
oars, and by the weaker ones of those held by
the boy.
It was the first of September, and Jed Ben-
son's father was on his way to join a party of
men bound for a lumbering camp in northern
Michigan.
Don't worry about us, father," replied Jed,
bravely; "but I do wish you could have found
a job in some camp nearer home."
"Yes, I wish so, too; it is a long way to go.
They are cutting so little timber around here
just now that the jobs are not very steady, and
the boys say that this means work for all win-
ter, so we must be thankful for what we have."
"The worst part of it all, father, is having
you gone so long. It will be terribly lone-
some."
Just then Jed's oar caught a crab," and per-
haps that was the explanation of the big drop of
water which splashed down on the back of his
small, brown hand. At any rate, he pulled
with such vim for the next few minutes that
they soon came alongside the high dock, and
after a word or two of good-by, the father clam-
bered up, and Jed turned the boat and headed
her back down the river.
The journey home was much slower than
the trip down had been, and it was long
past noon before the flat bottom of the bunty
grated on the pebbly strip at the water's edge,
and Jed jumped out, and drew the boat up
high and dry on the beach.


The shore at this point was wide and sandy,
and back of it the bank rose abruptly. As far
as the eye could see along the bank in both
directions, pine trees rose straight and tall, an
even, monotonous growth. Here, on this west-
ern shore of Lake Huron, in a rough, un-
painted, weatherbeaten house, with the blue
waters of the lake in front, and miles of pine
forest stretching away behind, Jed Benson had
lived his short eleven years. A dreary, lonely,
monotonous life? Yes; in a way perhaps it
was; and yet there are few boys who lead busier
or even happier lives than did Jed.
The summers were long, delightful periods
of enchantment, from .the time when, a tiny
little fellow, he had played in the yellow sands,
to the later years when he had grown strong
and experienced enough to be trusted with the
old bunty, a pair of oars, and fishing-tackle.
In the long summer evenings his father told
stories of his winter's experiences in the lumber-
ing-camps, and at the same time kept his
hands busy whittling out curious and ingenious
toys.
Although Jed had never been to school he
had learned to read, and he owned three books
which he had hunted out from a box of old
books and papers in the attic--a Webster's
Dictionary, an old "Natural Philosophy" writ-
ten for beginners and full of experiments, and a
much worn copy of Andersen's Fairy Tales.
From the dictionary he had learned to spell,
and to study out the meanings of words. The
Philosophy was a wonderful mine of knowledge
-and the fairy tales ah! those he had read
and re-read till he knew them nearly by heart.
Friends of his own age he had none, it is
true, but not having known such companion-
ship, he had never missed it.
The spring when Jed was five years old his
father had whittled out for him a little wooden
windmill and had fastened it to a stout stick







JED'S WINDMILL.


firmly set up on the bank in front of the house
overlooking the shore and lake. By the end
of the first summer it had grown to be one
of the belongings of the place, and when Jed
went to play in the sand or to wade along the
water's edge, he felt that it protected him in


warm and comfortable, and Jed was sure that
it sometimes waved its arms gratefully toward
him.
As a result of the close companionship which
thus sprang up between Jed and his windmill,
and from his life in the open air, Jed in time


"JED'S FATHER HAD WHITTLED OUT FOR HIM A LITTLE WOODEN WINDMILL."


some way,- at least, he thought he was always
safe if he were in sight of it.
-In the fall Jed used to stand at the window
and watch with great delight the mad whirl-
ing of its arms; but one night, during a heavy
northeaster, he lay awake a long time listen-
ing to the pitiful creaking of the windmill, and
in the morning he found two little arms lying
broken on the ground, from the force of the
storm. This was more than his tender heart
could bear. Jed's father mended the broken
arms, but Jed felt he had been thoughtless.
So after that the little windmill was carefully
taken.down each fall when the winds began to
blow cold, and put up in a sheltered place un-
der the eaves of the porch, where it looked


grew to be quite a reliable weather prophet, and
if any one had asked him to explain the reasons
for the morning lake-breeze, the evening land-
breeze, and the sudden rise of squalls and tem-
pests, he could have done it most intelligently,
for he had not conned the old Philosophy in
vain, and the chapter on "Winds" was one
especially thumbed.
Upon Jed's return from the village on this
September morning, he climbed rather listlessly
up the bank, tired and warm after the exertion
of rowing. His mother was standing by the
porch, twisting the wayward branches and ten-
drils of a hop-vine around the strings that had
been stretched for its support from the floor
of the porch to the roof.


380






JED'S WINDMILL.


"Well, mother, father 's gone. It seems
dreadfully lonesome already, does n't it?"
Yes, Jed, we shall be pretty much alone;
but we may be thankful if father gets plenty
of work though I do think those Northern
woods are dangerous places in dry weather,
and I suppose we must expect considerable
warm weather the rest of this month. Those
forest fires start so easily, and come on so fast,
and we have had so little rain. But we won't
borrow trouble. We shall have enough to do
to make both ends meet while he 's gone. Af-
ter you cool off, you 'd better bring up a few
pails of water for the kitchen. The cistern is so
low I am afraid to use it except for drinking-
water."
Yes, there was plenty to do water to carry,
fish to catch, and chickens to feed. The work
seemed harder than usual, for the heat grew
more intense than it had been during the whole
summer. Once a week Jed rowed over to the
village, two and a half miles away; to see if
there were a letter from father, and to bring
back the grocery supplies. The last time he
went over he had stopped to listen to the men
in the store, who were talking over the forest
fires which had been and were still raging
in various parts of the State. He was fear-
ful of hearing them speak 6f one in the vicinity
where his father was at work; and when he
reached home he threw himself down on the
ground by the windmill and cried out, Oh,
my little windmill! the winds come and whisper
their secrets to you can't you tell me if father
is in any danger? You see, if anything hap-
pens to him, I am the only man left to take
care of mother and the baby! But the wind-
mill only turned lazily about, and if it knew
any secret, it did not reveal it.
It grew hotter and hotter. The air was
thick with the smoke which drifts from the
forest fires so many hundreds of miles through-
out the whole lake-region. It became almost
unendurable to work in the little garden, or to
sit out in the boat trying to catch fish. The
fish would n't bite; everything seemed languid
and depressed.
Even the windmill itself shifted uneasily,
turned its arms fitfully about, or stood motion-
less in the quiet heaviness of the atmosphere.


Every afternoon,- indeed, all day long,-the
sun hung like a great copper ball in the hea-
vens, and every evening it disappeared long
before the hour of sunset in a dense mass of
pink smoke. No rain fell, and more and more
frequent became the accounts of fires, in the
stray newspapers which Jed brought back from
the village.
One day the sun had risen dull and coppery
as usual, no breeze had sprung up to relieve the
stagnant heat, the windmill stood motionless,
and Jed lay on the soft carpet of pine-needles,
looking up at the branches of the trees outlined
against the sky. It was about two o'clock in
the afternoon, and he was waiting till the cool
of the day to row over to the village. Suddenly
the arms of the little windmill turned toward
the lake, and began to revolve rapidly as a
strong, cool breeze set in from the water. The


JED.

air became cleared of smoke, so that for the first
time in many days the sun shone brightly.
Jed pondered to himself the reason for this,
as he jumped up and ran down the winding
steps in the bank to pull the boat higher up on
the sand. For days the water had been so
smooth and glassy that he had carelessly left the
boat lying at the very water's edge to save him-







JED'S WINDMILL.


P~h~tz~ria


"SUDDENLY THE ARMS OF THE LITTLE WINDMILL TURNED TOWARD THE LAKE."


self the trouble of dragging it back and forth in
the heat.
No storm-clouds were gathering, no squall
was threatening there was not that excuse
for the breeze which had sprung up so sud-
denly. All at once a paragraph from the old
Philosophy came to him as vividly as if he
were reading it from the page itself. The
hot air rising from the land creates a vacuum
into which rushes the colder air from just above
the water."
But," thought Jed, the hot air has been
rising from the land for many days, and there
has been a little freshening of the air in the
middle of the mornings, though nothing like
this. What can be the reason, unless- and
Jed stood still, his brown, sunburned face almost
paling, as the thought in his mind rushed on,
wording itself thus: Unless the forest fires are
coming here--unless they are closing in upon
us!"
A childlike feeling of helplessness came over


him, a longing to run to his mother; but he re-
membered his father's last words-that he should
care for mother and Amy; and the sense of his
dignity as a protector brought with it a manly
resolve. The desire for sympathy was so strong,
however, that he rushed back up the bank and
straight to the side of his windmill. Throwing
one arm about the staff to which it was fastened,
he looked far out on the water, eagerly but
vainly scanning the distant horizon for a possible
sign of an approaching storm.
"Tell me what it all means, little windmill,"
he cried. "Show me what is the matter quick
enough, so that I can help mother and the
baby!"
The arms of the little windmill turned on and
on, faster and faster, but its creaking voice said
no new thing. Still, Jed's heart grew brave as
he stood there, and he began to think and plan.
In his forest home he had read and heard of
many great fires, and the cruel details of all
these stories crowded into his mind at once.


382


[MAR.






S897.] JED'S WINDMILL. 383

Whole villages had been overtaken by the Late in the afternoon, when his preparations
flames and destroyed in a few short hours, were nearly completed, he sat down for a few
Families living in the woods had fled from their moments to rest near his windmill. It had
homes, only to be suffocated by the smoke or ceased its turning, and stood quiet; but as he
killed by falling fire-brands, looked at it, it swung slowly first one way and
Oh, it is too terrible to think of! And yet, then another, as if reluctant to look away from
since the windmill has given me a warning, the beautiful blue waters it had gazed upon so
can't I do something to save us all from such a many years. Finally turning its back upon
death ? I must not frighten mother until I am them, it faced landward, and then once more
sure; but I can get everything ready, so that the little arms began to fly, faster and faster,
we can fly to the wa-
ter, our only safety if
the fire does come."
So for several hours
he ran quickly and
quietly about, gather-
ing together whatever
things he thought
would be useful; and
if his mother noticed
him at all, she thought
only that the fresh
breeze from the lake
was making him feel
better and a little more
like working. She sat
quietly sewing in the
front room, so she did
not see him as he hur-
riedly put into a basket
in the kitchen all
the food he could find
cooked and ready for
eating. Shawls and
thick coats he tied to-
gether, and did not
forget a little pillow
for the baby to sleep
on; for it would be a
whole night, and per-
haps more than one,
which they would be
obliged to spend in
the boat before they
could find some place
of shelter. All the "FINALLY THE GREAT FLAMES LEAPED FROM TREE-TOP TO TREE-TOP." (SEE NEXT PAGE.)
valuables which he
could not take away, but which he dreaded and with its turning the hot air, thick with
to think of losing, he carried down to the smoke, came sweeping on, choking and stifling
shore and buried deep in the sand. everything which drew breath. Jed jumped up






JED'S WINDMILL.


and stood for just a moment, realizing with an
overwhelming fear that what he had anticipated
had really come, then ran to the house, where
on the porch he met his mother, with a look of
alarm upon her face.
"What does it mean, Jed ? she cried out.
"It is the fire, mother; the fire we were afraid
of for father has come to us. But don't be
afraid, mother," as her face turned pale and
she caught at the railing; we will run to the
boat, and out on the water we shall be safe."
There was no time for Jed to tell how he
had guessed the coming of the fire. Snatching
the baby and helplessly looking for a moment
round her little home, the mother hastened
with him down the bank, and not until his
strong young arms had pulled the boat out
upon the protecting bosom of the lake did she
learn of the precautions, which her brave boy
had taken to save their lives and to provide
for their comfort.
Once out of danger, Jed looked back for a
farewell glance at his windmill, and was glad
and proud that it stood with its face to the danger,
and glad, too, that the little whirling arms were
turned away from him, for he could not have
borne the sight of them outstretched toward him,
beseeching, imploring him not to desert his lit-
tle friend and comrade.
Darkness was coming on, so the little party
in the boat rowed but a short distance out, and
then dropped anchor. The fire came on and
on, the smoke rolling out in such dense vol-


umes as almost to blind them for a time, and
then lifting to show a dull red glow upon the
sky. Nearer and nearer it came; the crackle
and roar became louder and louder, and finally
great flames leaped from tree-top to tree-top.
It was a wonderful, majestic sight, the grand-
est fireworks little Jed had ever seen; and his
childish imagination could not stifle the admi-
ration of it, in spite of the heartbreak at seeing
the destruction of his home.
They did not try to row away that night,
but sat and watched the fire stretching away
along the banks of the lake as far as they could
see, and only when its fury had spent itself did
they fall asleep.
Early in the morning, when day was just
breaking, they awoke and made ready for the
long row which lay ahead of them; for it might
be many days before they could get beyond
the fire-belt and reach kind friends who would
succor them.
Turning to look back, they beheld the heap
of ruins where their happy home had been,
the tall, blackened tree-trunks stretching along
the shore as silent indicators of the destruction
which the raging fire had left behind. The
pole which had borne the windmill stood black-
ened and charred, and the little arms had
dropped at its side. Its short career was over,
but not in vain; for was not one boy wiser,
stronger, braver, and truer for the lessons which
the little windmill had taught him?
And at the last it had saved three lives.


A WINTER DAY.

Bv M. L. VAN VORST.


A LINE of white is on the hedge
This shining, sparkling winter's day;
I lean upon the window-ledge
And brush the pretty snow away.

It made the fields and gardens white;
It lies upon the roofs and ground.
It fell so softly in the night,
When I was sleeping safe and sound.


I think I '11 go and get my sled,
My little gloves Grandmother knit,
My cap with tabs, my muffler red-
And try to coast a little bit.

"Go out before it melts away,"
My mother said. I hope she 'll stand
There in the window, while I play,
And smile and nod, and wave her hand.











~~YoFhL


~4
liii
I-.



hi
~%s


BY LAURA E. RICHARDS.


ONCE there was a little boy,
Who in drumming found his joy;
Dawn and daybreak, noon and night,
Drumming was his heart's delight.
When above his task he bent,
"Tum-te-tum," his fingers went;
When at games he smiling sat,
Still they sounded, Rat, tat, tat."
On the table, on the chair,
On the crystal window fair,
On his book or on his work,
With his spoon or with his fork,
Still this foolish little body
Drummed and drummed, "Te-tum-te-toddy."
If his hands were busied quite,
Still his feet kept up the fight:
" Rumpty tumpty, tiddlety tee,
Rumpity-boom-dee-boom-ty-dee."

But one evening, sad to tell,
Something very strange befell.
VoL. XXIV.-49. 38s


Suddenly--a dreadful comer--
In there marched the Drumlie Drummer.
Eight feet tall and four feet wide,
Yards of bearskin cap beside.
Armed with drumsticks thick and long,
Made of hardest wood and strong.
Then the youngster's arm seized he;
Said, "My boy, now come with me!
Autumn, winter, spring, and summer,
All your life you 've been a drummer;
Now, my little Master Ned,
You shall be a drum, instead!"
Tied his arms, his ankles, too,
With a ribbon broad and blue;
Slung him round his neck. "And now,
Master Ned, I '11 show you how."
Marching, marching through the town
Goes the Drummer up and down:
"Tum-te-tum-te-tum-te-tum,"
Goes the dreadful, Nedful drum.
Dangling from the ribbon blue,






THE RHYME OF THE DRUMLIE DRUMMER.


Neddy feels the dread tattoo,
" Rumpty-iddity-whango-whack !"
Up and down upon his back.

Neddy's shrieks distract the air,
Yet no creature seems to care;
Father, mother, sister dear,
Pass him by and never hear.
"Rub-a-dub-dub-a-dub-di-do-dee,
Drumming is the sport for me;
Di-do-di-do, dum-dum-dum!
See my dreadful, Nedful drum.
Tum-tum-tum-tum-tum-tum-tummer -
Here I go, the Drumlie Drummer.
Little boys who can't keep still,
Come with me and soon you will.


Tumplety-tumplety-tumplety-tee,
Rub-a-dub-dub-a-dub-dub-a-dub-dee,
Rumpty-iddity-whango-whack,
Up and down upon your back."


When at last unhappy Ned
Woke to find himself in bed,
From his toes up to his crown,
All was black and blue and brown;
And his back did ache, and ache--
Really, truly, fit to break.
Mother, with a plaster hid it -
Said that horrrid football did it.
Ned said nothing; but I hear
That he drums no more this year.


^I $jitfi$ C,-*~-/
i 1cr-'.
~'- "i"i~i.4


386











ANIMAL TRACKS IN THE SNOW.

'BY BARNEY HOSKIN STANDISH.


THERE are three classes of people who are
especially interested in animal tracks in the
snow: country boys who go cross lots and
through woods to school in winter, woodsmen
in general, whether hunters, trappers, or lovers
of nature, and artists who paint winter land-
scapes and country scenes. The tracks here
represented are copied from nature, with the
animal in sight, and are nearly as typical of
their kind as the tracks of man are of man-
kind. In each case they represent the animal
as if going up the page, and in each group
of tracks the upper or head ones are made
by the hind feet (with a possible exception
in No. 4). It is with the hind feet upon the
ground in front of the fore feet that the animal
makes its spring.
The Rabbit sleeps by day in tufts of grasses
and brush-piles. At night it comes forth to
browse, ornamenting the snow with its almost
unchanging groups of footprints. It never
walks, but it hops a few inches and jumps
several feet. In its jumps one fore foot is
placed directly in front of the other, and the
hind feet are thrown outside and ahead of
them. The fore feet come up, one at a time,
as the hind feet go down; and the animal is
thus doubled up for the leap. No. i represents
the tracks.
The Deer is noted, for its long leap and the
high rate of speed which it is capable of at-
taining. Unlike the rabbit or the fox, it has
hoofs, and a single footprint is not unlike that
of the sheep. Its walking-tracks are repre-
sented by No. 3. You will observe that they
are but slightly spread. No. 2 represents the
tracks of its leaps, and of course the forward
ones are made by the hind feet.
The Muskrat is more or less active all win-
ter, for it stores no food, but obtains it under
the ice. This consists of aquatic plants and
their roots. On warm days you may find its


tracks beside the open streams. It is not a
g6od walker--some woodsmen maintain it
never walks when traveling. The tracks of
its short, slow jump are shown by No. 4.
The Skunk during the colder part of winter
remains in its den, which is usually a hollow log
or an earth burrow. Long before snow disap-
pears, however, you may expect to find its foot-
prints. It sleeps by day and hunts by night.
The tracks made when walking are so wide
apart that they appear in two rows, as may be
seen by looking at No. 5 held level with the
eye. This may be because the skunk's legs are
short and its body wide. Although this animal
has a wabbling canter, it is slow on foot, and
seldom attempts to run when in danger. It
has a surer means of self-defense. No. 4 shows
the tracks of the short, awkward leap.
The Mink makes its nest in the banks of
streams, in hollow logs, and among rocks. Its
feet are partly webbed, and it is an excellent
swimmer, capable of catching fish. This animal
seems, however, incapable of walking, and when
on land or ice proceeds by a series of jumps,
often so long that you would say it was fleeing
from danger. For each jump it leaves but
two tracks. This, no doubt, is the result of
raising its fore feet, one at a time, and sliding
its hind feet under them, as the leap is finished.
No. 6 represents the tracks that it leaves in
the snow. The Weasel and Ermine make
similar tracks.
Squirrels during the coldest weather of win-
ter sleep in their nests in hollow trees, and
also in those made of leaves in tree-tops. But on
warm, sunshiny days they come forth. There-
fore it cannot be truly said that they are hiber-
nating animals. Their fore legs are short com-
pared with. their hind ones, and the feet on these
legs have but four toes, while their hind ones
have five. As they pass from tree to tree in
the snow they leave their four-cornered groups















Ra&bb'ir Deenri Musklr. Skunk Minkwem squir-el,
mediatm seed ~t,or')o, D ee i o-Skunk orMuskrt =sel .Ermine Medium rate..
Lpper.tracks High speed. W/Jkir-g (slow walking JumninZ. 5toed ibnd
hincL ) = 2. t-rcks feet -i\l9,ys


o 4 ea i front -
Mea um speed See P '








S388


i1
*!
;?1
.' `i < i O *
( .












l^ -~~a~ --------- fY_________

388 '










'6.,
r. .:
..

"-~~':



~%n~~






ANIMAL TRACKS IN THE SNOW.


of tracks; and you may notice that the five-toed
feet make the front tracks. They are larger
and wider apart than those of the fore feet.
The Fox is noted for its long leaps and great
speed, being able to overtake and devour rab-
bits, and to escape danger itself when pursued.
When walking it puts one foot nearly ahead of
another, thus leaving what approaches a single
line of tracks. These tracks much resemble
those of the domestic cat, and many a hunter
has followed the latter, thinking himself in pur-
suit of Reynard. No. 14 represents the tracks
made in walking, and No. 8 those in running.
Of course, in the latter figure the forward or
upper tracks are made by the hind feet, for it is
from these feet he is able to spring so far.
The Racoon's favorite home is a hollow tree
near a stream or body of water. This animal
hibernates in winter, but long before the snow
is off it is dotted and figured by its feet. Its
tracks are along the river and in the gorge
by the brook, where it goes to hunt for clams


snails and water-beetles. In fact, it is hungry
enough now to eat a dead fish or the bits of
the partridge that the owl has left. Its hind feet
are shaped much like the feet of a child, but
they have long toes. The tracks of these long,
wide-spreading toes will not be likely to be dis-
tinct in the snow, but in .the mud they show
plainly. It is not a fast runner, and its lope
is somewhat logy. No. 9 represents the foot-
prints of its leap at a low rate of speed; No.
to, a slow hunting-walk; and No. ii, a trot.
The Elk, though much smaller and slimmer
than a domestic cow, has feet much like hers.
Indeed, they are so large that its walking-tracks
(No. 13) might be mistaken for those of the
tame animal. The elk, however, is capable of
long leaps. I have known one to clear twelve
feet when hard pressed. No. 12 are typical
tracks, but the elk is more apt than the deer to
vary from the type. When jumping a stream
or object that requires unusual effort, the elk
places its feet as the rabbit does (see No. I).


THE LITTLE FRENCH POODLE.

BY LAURA CATE.

SONE time I saw a little dog.
"Oh, little dog," said I,
"You are the dearest little dog!
Now tell me, can you fly?"

The little dog he said: Oh, yes!"
And jumped right o'er the bench.
Said I: "You clever little dog!"
(I said it, though, in French.)

The little dog he looked at me,
And slyly winked his eye. -
I looked at him, and then I laughed;
"You funny dog!" said I.

"You 're just the smartest little dog
That ever jumped a bench."
The little dog he looked at me,
And wagged his tail (in French).


390












JUNE'S GARDEN.


By MARION HILL.


[Begun in the November number.]
CHAPTER IX.
RATHER ENCOURAGING.
JUNE took Leila with her, both girls agreeably
anxious to find out the reason for Sarah's signal.
The rich girl's room was at all times a delightful
retreat. It had big arm-chairs, and window-
seats, and cozy nooks, and picturesque couches,
and everything else that is dear to young per-
sons' hearts. Sarah herself, without her crutch,
and in all the glory of a dainty house-gown, in
the depths of some cushioned corner, was as
pretty a sight as one could wish to see. This
particular evening she was radiant with sup-
pressed excitement.
June, dear, it has-come at last! "
"What ?" asked June, tucking Leila into a
seat.
Success! I am a 'liter'y character' at last."
And she waved a magazine in triumph.
"No! Glory! You don't mean to say that
any magazine has published an article ofyours!"
was the unflattering outcome of June's excite-
ment.
"Yes; and I 've called you up here to read
it to you- that is, if you care to listen," added
Sarah shyly.
"Don't I, just ?" said cordial June. "But
wait a tiny minute"; -and she ran out and
hung over the banisters.
"Oh, Roy! Roy! Come up here! We're
in Sarah's room."
Then she danced back into that sanctum.
"What do you mean by that ? demanded
Sarah, with every sign of anger.
"I thought that it would be nice for us to
hear it all together," replied the unmoved June,
with all the innocence of a cherub.
Sarah bit her lip, and Roy lounged in, mani-
festly ill at ease in the unfamiliar apartment.
He sat down in an obscure corner.


Then Sarah began to read, awkwardly at
first, but soon losing herself in her own story,
and rendering it with the thousand charms of a
perfect understanding. It was a direct little
tale, as sweet and as sad as a bit of music. But
there was no bitterness in it, no unkindness, no
complaining -just the strange, deep sadness of
life, and of living. Not one of her listeners
could stir till it was finished; then a sigh broke
from all--a sigh of interest, of approval, of
appreciative melancholy.
"You're a genius!" cried June, unstintingly.
"Oh, Sarah, you must read it again to me
some time," begged Leila, hungrily.
STheir honest praise was sweet to the young
author, but she wanted to hear from another -
from that silent, sprawling, graceful figure whose
face was hidden in the shadow. June bent
down and looked in it.
"Roy," she said, betraying him purposely,
but in divine kindness-"Roy, you are crying!"
He started to his feet, perhaps to leave the
room.
Oh, Roy, if you are crying, you must love
me a little, and I love you so much!" Sarah
had done with concealment; she wrung her
hands in piteous expectation.
At the sound of her voice, Roy turned in a
flash, and hurried to her. He knelt beside her
and put his curly head in her lap. Sarah's face
had the look of an angel as she bent over him.
Come out of this," commanded June, with
decision; and taking Leila by the hand, she
drew her quietly home.

The next day was marked by two charming
episodes, and was a red-letter day in June's
mental calendar. In. the morning she slipped
over to pay Grandma Bell a short visit. She
had not neglected the old lady, running in at
odd opportunities, with cheerful anecdotes and
bright looks, until the lonely old soul waited for






JUNE'S GARDEN.


her sunny visits as the treat of the day. Such
a lonely old lady, living under the roof of her
son and daughter as might a stranger who was
unsought for and unwanted!
This day, when June was stealing up into the
attic room, she came again face to face with
Mr. Rouncewell, for the first time since their
introductory encounter.
Aha!" he began, gruffly cheerful. "You
are the young lady with' the weakness for pink,
I suppose? "
"Yes, sir," said June, laughing, and thinking
it no harm to encourage an ogre in his pleasant
moments.
"I have caught sight of you several times
lately, slipping past like a brownie. Where do
you go ? Upstairs to grandma's room ?"
Yes, sir. Do you call her grandma, too ?"
asked June.
"Ever since little Willie started it -my little
chap! He's dead, you know and happier;
but we miss him we always shall. Ah! well,
well!-but what is the attraction up there?
Old trunks, eh ?"
"Partly."
Um; I thought so. Old trunks full of old
frippery, eh ?"
There is a faded little dress of yours, sir."
Loirdbless me! You don't say so "
"Yes, sir; and one of your curls, soft and
yellow; and a-pair of your tiny slippers."
"Well, I never "
"And she never takes them out or puts them
in without kissing them."
What an extraordinary idea fumed Mr.
Rouncewell, but dropping his glance rather
guiltily.
And she often tells me of the time she used
to teach you to walk, and of how she used to
dream that as years went on the places would
be changed, and she would lean on your arm
instead."
He gave her a look, half distrustful, half anx-
ious to hear some more, and his ruddy face took
on a deeper hue.
"Would n't you like to hear her tell it her-
self?" asked June, pleadingly.
"Well -" was his doubtful rejoinder.
"She is very lonely," continued June, putting
her hand fearlessly into his great paw.


"H'm!" he coughed, and it was a sign of
tractableness.
Come on," said June, with a joyous tug,
and they ascended the stairs together, his pon-
derous step almost shaking the foundations.
"Why, John!" exclaimed the old lady, de-
lightedly.
Well, mother, I 've come to see that won-
derful party dress of mine, and the curl and
the slippers, and all the rest of the treasures."
Why, John! "
Not all at once, you know; bit by bit. I
can come up here every day for a time; make
believe I am a little boy again."
"Why, John "
It seemed to be all she could say, but she
said it with every variety of expression. He
patted her awkwardly upon the back.
"This forward young woman spoke as if she
half fancied I neglected you," he said, looking
at June in mock anger.
"I wholly fancied it," amended June, per-
fectly undaunted, dancing to the door. "You
don't need me to-day, Grandma Bell; for I 've
heard it all before," she added, leaving Mr.
Rouncewell quite ill at ease without her support.
He 's really a dear old thing," she told
herself, as she found her way out of the house.
But the wonderful thing happened that night,
and happened in her own back parlor. That
very useful room was also the dining-room, and
she was engaged in setting the tea-table by
the flickering firelight. Leila was helping her,
happy in being able to recognize the dishes by
the feel of them, and taking great delight in ac-
complishing her task as well as when she had
her sight.
The sumptuous repast is now ready," June
heralded. Tea and bread in abundance, and
butter that will have to be carefully eked out
or it will not last till Saturday. And it must! "
she concluded savagely, stooping down to car-
ess the basking Misfit.
But Leila gave a sudden, terrified little
scream, and dropped the saucer she was hold-
ing. She pressed her hands to her eyes.
"What's the matter? cried June anxiously.
"June, I saw the firelight!"
My darling -darling! Can you see
again ?" June exclaimed tremulously.


[MAR:


392






1897.] JUNE'S G

No wailed Leila, taking away her hands
and peering into the darkness. But I did,
June; indeed I did! "
My poor little girl! it was, maybe, only your
fancy. You can see queer flashes all the time,
you know."
I saw it! I saw it! But it is all gone again.
Oh, June, to have it come back for a minute,
and then to lose it! and Leila sobbed.


;ARDEN. 393

Leaving the excited child bound by fearful
promises to remain calm, June rushed to the
oculist's house.
It was not long before she returned, alone
but triumphant.
"There was no need for him to come, he
said not to-night, at any rate; that there was
nothing to be done but to wait; that you are
to be very, very careful; that it may be


"SARAH WAVED A MAGAZINE IN TRIUMPH."


"You are sure you saw ?" June demanded.
Sure! And and maybe it is fancy, but
I think, now, that I saw you too. You were
bending down."
June ran to her, and tied her eyes with a silk
handkerchief.
Don't you dare take that off," she com-
manded. ." You will be putting your head in
the grate trying to see again, and with some
such bit of foolishness you will ruin everything."
VOL. XXIV.-50.


months before you can see again, but that you
are a fortunate girl, for your sight will come
back to you! "
To keep any sort of control over herself,
June raced out into the garden, and hopped
about excitedly in the faint moonlight. The
glorious perfection of her lilies gave her a sud-
den resolution.
"Since our luck seems to be coming back
to us," she said aloud, I will make my final






JUNE'S GARDEN.


attempt at acquiring a fortune. I will go to
the city and try to sell those lilies- to-mor-
row !"
CHAPTER X.

A DISMAL FAILURE.

DEAR me! how easy it was for June to come
to that resolution, and what difficult proportions
it assumed when she proceeded to carry it out.
In the first place, the lilies were very hard to
coax into a presentable-looking bundle; lovely
they were indeed--but too lovely, with stems
a yard long, ending in magnificent clusters
of waxy white blooms.
"I '11 look like a Christmas-card!" wailed
June, frightened at the showiness of them. It
was very early in the morning, and she was all
ready to take the first train to San Francisco.
Her mother and sister hung about her to give
her the comfort of their presence till the last
minute.
"If your heart fails you, June," said Mrs.
Miller, anxiously, "or if anybody is rude to
you, come. right home. We need the money,
indeed; but no sum would pay for having your
feelings insulted."
Yes, 'm," moaned June, vaguely.
"Oh, I can smell 'em from here, and they're
lovely! cried Leila. Do you know, I asked
Roy to ask the price of them for me, and he
told me that the florists were selling them at
five dollars a dozen. Count them, June."
Four dozen and a half," said that mournful
young business woman.
"A little more than twenty-two dollars," said
Mrs. Miller, thoughtfully.
To buy them! cried June, with tragic em-
phasis.
Well, say you get only half of that say
you get twelve dollars."
"Or say I get frightened to death, and am
brought home stiff!" was June's wild assump-
tion. Then she grasped her formidable deco-
rations, and wandered off to the train.
She was miserably conscious of being a con-
spicuous object, and she suffered tortures dur-
ing her half-hour's journey. The intensely
strong perfume sickened her, and the sheaf of
blossoms distorted itself into the likeness of an


abominably grotesque umbrella which it was
impossible to furl.
If I ever get out of this alive, I '11 never do
it again! she promised herself.
She wondered if everybody did not know
her errand, and all its unpleasant details. She
flushed at every gaze that fell to her share;
and she got all that were going. The more she
tried to reassure herself that she was doing a
perfectly natural thing, the more flushed and
more miserable she got. When she reached
the city, she slunk past florist's after florist's,
positively not daring to go in. Finally she
pulled herself together, and administered a
sound scolding where it would do most good.
Look here, June Miller," she said severely,
"if you are going to be an idiot, I will never
talk to you again! This thing is n't pleasant,
I know; but business is business, and if you
want pay you have got to work: so into the
next florist's you go the next, mind that! "
She went. The man in charge was not en-
thusiastic. Yes; he bought flowers sometimes.
Yes; the lilies were showy. Were they in de-
mand? Well- only so-so.
"Do you think you would care to take
these?" asked June, in conclusion.
"To buy them ? Well, money is short now.
No; I could n't really buy them. But I might
find some use for them. If you like to leave
them -"
I don't like," said June, very sweetly; and
she walked out.
Finding that trade had certain exhilarations
of its own, she entered the next store quite
cheerfully. Something had evidently gone wrong,
for the proprietor was puffing around at a great
rate.
"What's all this ? he howled, running un-
expectedly into June as he turned a corner.
"Would you like to buy some flowers ? "
asked she, trying to keep her heart in its proper
place.
No, no, no! he roared, backing away, as
'from a pestilence.
June shot out as quickly as she could. "Wow,
wow, wow! she mimicked for her own conso-
lation when she.was safely in the street. "What
a terrible man!"
She met with every sort of experience except


[MAR.






JUNE'S GARDEN.


success. As a rule, people were very kind to
her; but as for purchasing her flowers-no,
they would not. They grew as heavy as so
much iron, too; but June persevered doggedly.
At last she entered a little store into which a
strangely sad-looking man preceded her. He
went up to the wet and fragrant counter first,
so June hung back until he should get through.
"And what flowers have you got to put on
a little dead baby ?" he asked, and his voice
was rugged and grief-shaken.
The matter-of-fact florist expatiated on the
beauty of several white flowers in his stock.


Yis; she 's that pretty, you would n't think
she could die. An' there 's not a flower for her.
Think o' that! faith, not one! I hoped some
would be sent her -sure, I, don't know from
where, but she looks lonesome like. An' San
Francisky 's such a place for flowers! Look
at thim, now! "- and he pointed pathetically
at the array of lilies in June's arms.
She smiled at him with eyes that brimmed
with tears. His hopeless, grief-sodden voice
had gone directly to her heart, and she saw the
waxen little baby lying in her lonely bed, with
" not a flower on her," as the father had said.


*. r ---



aM-~ .c ii
t:;- B


'-''"4


"'YES, FOR TEN CENTS,' JUNE SAID, BRAVELY."


How many will tin cints buy? demanded
the man, showing the money.
"Ten cents ?" queried the florist. Why,
nothing at all. These roses are two and three
dollars a dozen, and lilies are more. Of course,
I can let you have a few marguerites "- taking
them up as he spoke.
"Thim daisies? said the man, sorrowfully.
" Oh, that won't do at all, at all. She 's the
only child we iver had, and now that she is
lying dead, an' at peace, an' with the angels,
sure we wanted to put something rarer than
sich things on her."
Yes ? said the florist, yawning.


Then the hard-earned, despised ten-cent piece!
It was pitiful. She went to him, and laid her
pure flowers in his wondering grasp.
For tin cints ? he asked, a gleam of hope
in his weary eyes.
Then June had a divine inspiration. She
could give him the flowers, and yet not lay him
under a burden of gratitude. "Yes; for ten
cents," she said bravely, holding out her hand
for the money. He gave it to her, hesitating
a trifle, as if he feared there was something
wrong; but the steady light in her eyes reas-
sured him. He held the flowers proudly to his
bosom they were his; he had bought them.


395





JUNE'S GARDEN.


Daisies, indeed! See thot, now!" he ex-
claimed triumphantly. When he left the store,
the florist turned a reproachful gaze upon June.
"What did you do that for? he asked. "I
would have given you ten dollars for those."
"That 's a comfort," said June, tremendously
cheered. I feel better than ever." She looked
at the ten cents with positive adoration.
When she got home it was nightfall, and her
family were anxiously expecting her. Roy and
Sarah were there also, and June noticed that
each seemed trying to make up to the other
for years of neglect. It was quite a cheering
sight, and June very much needed cheering.
To add to her general depression, the first rain
of the winter season began to fall, quietly but
persistently, as if to emphasize the fact that
autumn was dead and gone.
Unless somebody gives me some bread and
butter, right away or*sooner, I '11 take a bite
out of Misfit! declared June, ferociously.
So Roy obligingly administered to her wants,
while she recounted the history of the day.
And I would n't spend that dime for a dol-
lar," she ended, incoherently.
"Poor June! said Leila commiseratingly.
"Poor June, indeed," agreed that personage,
with a mouth full of bread and butter. Be-
cause, if you come to think of it, all my work
and perseverance have come to nothing. All
my slips, all my seeds (no offense, Roy!), all
THE


my hopes and all my fears (to borrow from Mr.
Longfellow) everything has ended in a per-
fect failure."
"That 's so," said Roy, with conviction.
" But don't despair, June."
You don't know me observed June, tak-
ing another mouthful. "Besides, I have a
lovely motto from the Persian."
"Let's hear it," suggested Sarah.
"You 're going to: Success lies, not in never
falling, but in rising every time you fall.' What
do you think of it ? "
"You don't despair, do you ?" asked her
mother, whose arm was around Leila's waist.
Not while the bread and butter lasts. But,
all the same, I wish I had n't failed."
Roy laughed, and ran his hand affectionately
through Sarah's hair. It never entered June's
head to see in that loving little action one re-
sult of her "failure." Nor did she dream of
congratulating herself because the fretfulness
had disappeared from Sarah's pretty face Sa-
rah, who was humbly hoping that there was a
great work for her in the world, after all. Nor
did her thoughts reach out to the big Rounce-
well house, where a dear old lady was feeling
herself rich in the recovered wealth of her son's
love.
That is the odd thing about our failures:
they sometimes do such an immense deal of
good, although we may not know it.
END.


A FIGHT.

BY SYDNEY DAYRE.


I SAW a fight the other day-
Who do you think were in it?
That saucy rogue, Jack Frost; but he
Was not the one to win it.
He took a grip and held so tight
On everything about him,
That everybody said 't would take
A tussle fierce to rout him.


But then she came, the lovely Spring,
With smile so sweet and merry
That soon the stubborn, icy imp
Became discouraged-very.
She smiled again. In fright and fear,
Confusion and commotion,
He fled-to take a summering
Beside the Arctic Ocean.


396









am __'
. ,''r V
-** |,


704


THE United States government is at present
devoting special attention to the fortification
and defense of the harbors along the Atlantic
coast, many of which are so situated that a
hostile fleet might too easily enter them. The
government officials are busy, therefore, in de-
vising plans and gradually carrying them into
execution, for the protection of these cities or
important commercial points along the coast.
Of these harbor-defenses there are four dis-
tinct kinds. They are torpedo mines, mortar-
batteries, batteries of rapid-fire guns, and disap-
pearing guns.
The torpedo mines are operated from mining


casemates located at the entrances of harbors
or bays, the exact situation and their interior
arrangement being a department secret. Some
mines are spherical in shape, about three- feet
in diameter, and constructed of steel. These,
when in service, are expected to hold a hundred
pounds of high explosives, and to float near
the surface. But they must be concealed as
well as buoyant, and so to each is attached
by a cable a mushroom-anchor to keep the
torpedo just below the surface, out of sight and
beyond the reach of the fire of machine-guns.
These mines are intended for use in the
channels that hostile ships would have to sail


I. -.


A MORTAR-BATTERY IN POSITION. ONE OF THE RIFLED MORTARS IS SHOWN ABOVE ON A LARGER SCALE.


WM-. *






398


HARBOR DEFENSES.


through, and are arranged in threes and
set closely in the channel according to
plans previously arranged. If necessary,
the sea off the entrance to a harbor or
bay could be well filled with them.
These mines may be exploded or may
be perfectly harmless according to the
will of the occupant of the mining case-
mate, who, with his important apparatus,
is out of reach of shot and shell, there
being tons of earth between him and
the upper air.
Out from this chamber through a tun-
nel .below low-water mark, and hence
safe from discovery by the enemy or
shot from them, run numerous cables to
the mines planted in the channel or in
the sea. Within the chamber the opera- A SELF-MOVING TORPEDO ON ITS WAY TO ATTACK A MAN-OF-WAR.
tor has an elaborate chart with the loca-
tion of every torpedo or mine upon it. By telegraph or other signals from observation
stations near by, he is kept informed of the approach of vessels, and acts as he thinks best
under the circumstances. He may receive
w,:rd from his stations to such effect
t.h ct %ith his chart he knows a ves-
:el is directly within a cluster of
the Lanken mines. Then he
-: a touch a key, and a mine
SVill instantly explode be-
neath or near the vessel.
If the vessel is a
friendly one, how-
ever, the operator
can disconnect his
batteries, and the
ship will sail in per-
fect safety over the
-tons of explosive be-
Sneath. If the wea-
ther be foggy, or
-. a if some other condi-
tion unfavorable for
.-. locating a vessel pre-
vails, and enemies
are known to be
near, the pressing of
"- many buttons will make
S -ery one of these mines
.-.-. ,.a deadly force, and any ship
that ventures in will strike a tor-
A HOSTILE WARSHIP BLOWN UP BY AN ANCHORED TORPEDO. pedo, roll it over, and automatically






HARBOR DEFENSES.


close an electric circuit, which will explode the
mine; and the ship will be sunk, or badly shat-
tered. There are various devices for ascertain-
ing that the hidden mines and connections are
in good working order.
The mortar-batteries usually mount sixteen
guns, and are so arranged that the exploding
of a mortar, or perhaps a shell from the enemy,
can affect but four pieces, if as many as that.
The batteries are made up of rifled mortars.
The placing of these batteries is an extensive


used, as it probably would be, only an indistin-
guishable vapor would rise from the pits to be-
tray the location of the battery. The enemy
would hear a report, and, from he knew not
where, the shells would rain down and pierce
the decks. If but three or four guns were fired
there might be some hope of escaping injury,
but with sixteen pieces carefully trained the
chances of instant destruction of the ship are
greatly increased.
But this is too close range to begin the fight-


ON BOARD A BATTLESHIP GOING INTO ACTION AGAINST A FORTIFIED HARBOR.
ON BOARD A BATTLESHIP GOING INTO ACTION AGAINST A FORTIFIED HARBOR.


and expensive undertaking. The batteries, when
completed, are capable of dropping upon a
vessel some five or six miles away a shower
of several hundred pounds of iron or steel and
explosives.
The layout of a battery is such that all six-
teen mortars being trained alike and primed,
the pressing of one button will cause them
all to fire at the same instant. They are
planted some twenty feet below the surface in
pits, and are consequently quite concealed from
the enemy. If smokeless powder should be


ing, as the enemy's guns could long before
have swept all within sight alongshore and
done great damage to shipping that had sought
protection in the bay or harbor; and so coast-
defense guns are located about the entrances to
harbors and bays. These, too, are so arranged
as to be hidden from the enemy, as it is no longer
sufficient to build great granite walls, pierced
by port-holes and bristling with cannon. These
offer too good a target to the enemy, and only
a short period of fire against them with modern
guns would completely demolish them.


399






HARBOR DEFENSES.


Various plans have
been devised for the
building of coast de-
fenses of this kind.
Even fighting turrets,
like those on monitors,
have been suggested
and built. Some of
them rise into sight
only preparatory to the
firing of the guns which :
they contain. Others
are somewhat raised ,- *
above the surface, and
the guns disappear for
loading. In either case, .
though, very ponder-
ous and expensive ma-
chinery is required for
them.
A disappearing gun.
set up in a pit similar to
the mortar-pit is more
in favor. There are
several styles of these
with various powers to
elevate them, but all .*
are lowered by the re-
coil of discharge. The
Gordon counterpoise A TEN-INCH RIF
carriage is perhaps the
most novel. It is fitted for a ten-inch breech-
loading rifle, the weight of which is about 67,200
pounds. It has an advantage over other pat-
terns in that while being loaded it affords greater
protection to itself and to the gunners than the
other styles; and this is an important fea-
ture. It is operated by either hand-power or
electricity. With the former it has fired thirty-
two shots in an hour; which is considered
remarkably rapid firing.
But this is not all that is needed to make a
bay or harbor defensible. These large guns
would not be very dangerous to an enemy's
fleet of torpedo boats. These move and turn
very quickly, and, once past the great guns, the


LED GUN ON A GORDON DISAPPEARING CARRIAGE.

torpedo mines might be disposed of without
much difficulty. To prevent such action by the
enemy, batteries mounting rapid-fire guns are
employed. The torpedo-boats can change their
course with such rapidity that big guns cannot
be trained on them quickly enough to be effec-
tive, and alongshore opposite portions of the
channel where torpedo mines are planted are
needed batteries of these small spitfires.
With such a quadruple defense as torpedo
mines, mortar-batteries, disappearing guns of
long range, and batteries of rapid-fire guns, a
fleet of hostile ships would find it a very dif-
ficult task to enter any bay or harbor along
the coast.
Charles Rawson ThZurston.


400


~ .,.. ;
~.; "
"


I
-c-.r;-*.









MISS NINA BARROW.


By FRANCES Co

[This story was begun in tie February number,]

CHAPTER III.

MARIAN MAKES A BEGINNING.

You see I am getting old, my dear Marian,"
said Mrs. Andrews. I have not been myself
since that attack last winter, and I have sent
for you to hold up my hands as the prophet's
friends did, to be a stay and prop to me, and
to take charge of Nina. I am no longer equal
to the task. You will find her somewhat self-
willed and obstinate. You will h4ve to be
very firm with her, or she will get her own
way. I give you full authority. I know how
you have been reared, and how well you
are fitted for your position. And, really, my
head begins to swim now when I have to carry
a point with Nina, careful as I am about mak-
ing them, she gets so excited under opposition.
She does n't know yet that we are going to
England on the 2oth. I have n't been able to
make up my mind to tell her, for there will be a
scene. She has always said that I never should
go abroad. But Dr. Lyon thinks that I ought
to try Vichy, and while I would never go for
that alone, there is another important reason
for doing so."
Your health is quite reason enough, Cousin
Elizabeth, and you are the best judge of such
questions. Nina is but a child," said Marian.
Yes, of course; but she is so decided. And
don't you think her very clever? She amazes
me often. She knows where all the shops are,
and how to shop, and what cars to take, and
really she is often right. Only I must be firm
about this. You see, Marian, I have been
thinking that I might die -I have thought a
great deal about that, and everything, lately;
and the child would be left so unprotected.
There is her trustee, to be sure, and guardian;
but really we rarely see him, and hear from
him only when he makes his statements. She
VOL. XXIV.-51. 4


URTENAY BAYLOR.

will have a large fortune, you know,- a very
large fortune, admirably invested by Mr. Foster.
And her only very near relatives are in Eng-
land her cousins, the children of her father's
half-sister, you know."
"The Aubreys," said Marian. I know of
the relationship. Have they ever met ? "
No; that is just it. I am anxious that they
should. I wish to make friends of them -true
friends for my poor child. My friends nearly
all are dead, or scattered to the ends of the
earth, and her father's friends and her mother's
seem so absorbed in their own interests and
families; and her own count for nothing when
it comes to protection, and all that. I have
long seen it; I have three times written that I
would come, but Nina never would hear of it,
and I thought she would get over the feeling
if I waited. But I can't wait any longer, my
dear Marian. I fear I have done wrong in
waiting so long. Her aunt (Anna Barrow that
was) is dead, and Mr. Aubrey has married
again; but they write very kindly, and seem in-
terested in and for her. And there are the
children. So now, to keep myself up to the
mark, I have taken our passage for the 2oth,
and the Aubreys have asked us to go first to
them for a visit, and after that we will see.
Claudine goes with us. But mind, Nina is to
know nothing until the time comes when she
must be told."
"Your wishes, Cousin Elizabeth, I shall al-
ways respect," said Marian; "but I think it
would be best to tell Nina frankly your plan
and your reason for making it."
Not for the world Not now !" cried out
the old lady. I am not equal to it. I 'm all
shaking with nervousness at the thought. I
should not get to sleep all night. I am used
to managing Nina. Not a word, Marian! In
your department you shall be all-powerful; but
no one can manage Nina in such matters ex-
cept myself. She has been going to a first-






402 MISS NINA
class school, and has nice little friends there,
and is improving every day; but when I de-
cided to take her to Europe, I felt the need of
a staff, and I thank you for consenting to take
the position."
"I was glad to take it, cousin, and you were
very good to offer so liberal a salary," said
Marian. "It enables me to put the two
younger boys at the Technical and Industrial
School, and I am most grateful to you for help-
ing me to help them. You may be sure that I
shall do all that I can to justify your confidence
and repay your generosity. I have some plans
of my own as to the best way of doing this;
and I am sure that you will not regret taking
Nina abroad. This is not a good place for a
child, cousin. The simplest, humblest home is
greatly to be preferred to it. And, as you say,
it is important that she should meet her rela-
tives. New associations, different surround-
ings-" Marian colored and stopped. She did
not like to say what she thought,- of how
Nina was absorbing a thousand harmful in-
fluences and ideas, in the tittle-tattle, the vul-
garities, the coarseness, the gossip' about her.
"Cousin Elizabeth," said Marian, "now that
our talk is over, I think of going for a.walk.
Would you like Nina to go with me? Where
is she? "
"Oh, I 've no objection if you can get her
to go. She is around somewhere with Claud-
ine, I guess," Mrs. Andrews remarked placidly.
"I don't know where, but she 's all right; she
can take care of herself. Oh, here she is!"
Nina had burst into the room while she was
speaking, in a high state of excitement.
"Oh, Grandy, what do you think? The
Fitz-Patricks in 89 have gone away, and all
their baggage is kept 'cause they have n't paid
their bill. And there's three carriage-loads of
people just come! I saw them from the par-
lor window, and counted the parcels twenty-
three and a bird-cage. I 've had a splendid
time this afternoon. It has n't been dull a
bit. Where are you going, Cousin Marian?
Can't I come, too ? "
"Ask your grandmother," said Marian.
"Grandy ? What for ? Of course I '11 come,"
said Nina.
"I shall not take you unless you do," said


A


BARROW. [MAR.
Marian. I thought of going to hear the Hun-
garian band play for an hour."
Oh i I like music better than anything. Do
take me too," said Nina.
"Ask your grandmother," repeated Marian,
quietly. "It is only right, and you should
never go anywhere without doing so. I shall
go and dress, and shall join you in the parlor, if
she gives you permission."
"'Permission! quoted Nina, who was in the
habit of telling her grandmother when she had
better take a drive or pay a visit. Grandy,"
said she, I 'm going out with Cousin Marian."
Marian overheard this, and could but smile
at Nina's idea of respectful submission to au-
thority.
Marian was a sensible woman, and saw that
she must win Nina's affection and confidence
before she could alter anything in other
words, geta fulcrum before she could use a lever.
The afternoon passed swiftly and agreeably for
Nina, who found her cousin a very different sort
of companion from any she had ever had.
Marian talked to her as she would have done
to any one else; she treated her with scrupu-
lous, grave politeness; begged her pardon when
she chanced to jostle against her in the street;
asked whether she would prefer to go down
town by the "elevated or the horse-cars; of-
fered her the shelter of her umbrella when it
began to rain; said," Excuse me, dear; but you
are losing your pretty pin," and replaced it;
asked if she were tired when they stopped in a
shop, got her a seat, and behaved toward her
exactly as to another lady. Nina was not used
to such consideration and respect -did not
know that it was Marian's way of teaching her
to respect herself and others. Marian made
a few purchases, and then, calling Nina, said:
Can you crochet ? I am very fond of it, and
know a great many pretty stitches."
"I can do it a little," replied Nina.
"How would you like to make a little scarf
for your grandmother to throw over her head ?
She would be so delighted. She has so much
neuralgia," said Marian.
Oh, I could n't. I 'd never get it done,"
said Nina.
"Oh, yes, you would. I '11 help you, and
you '11 see; and she will be so pleased. Your






MISS NINA BARROW.


dear grandmother, who loves you so dearly! It
will please her so much!" urged Marian,
brightly.
"All right; I will, then," agreed Nina.
"What colors ?" asked the shopman.
This question was decided by choosing lilac
and white.
"Useful occupation, and something done
for others," thought Marian, who had been
tempted to get Nina a little present, and then had
told herself firmly that what Nina needed was
not getting, but giving, and giving of that
which should cost her something in time,
trouble, or money, or in all three; not so
much as one more whim, caprice, or fancy
should be gratified, but she should learn to
please and gratify others.
As they were entering the hotel, Marian said:
" Run away upstairs now, and let your Grandy
know that you have returned, and I will join
you in a moment."
But as Marian went on to the desk to get
her key, Nina pranced into the parlor, perched
on the music-stool, shook her hair over her
shoulders, and banged on the piano in atro-
cious fashion until she was tired of doing so,
which, fortunately for the comfort of some la-
dies seated there, was very soon. One of them
asked her to play softly, as her head ached;
and Nina, for an answer, settled herself afresh,
with a wriggling movement of the body and a
toss of the head expressive of utter defiance of
the world in general, struck a few more clash-
ing chords; and then suddenly abandoned the
field, whisking out of the room pertly, with her
usual absurd air of importance.
Left alone, the ladies rejoiced that they were
rid of Nina but prematurely, for presently the
stout lady became aware of a curious feeling
about her back. She was interested in the
morning paper, and did not immediately inves-
tigate the sensation; but presently turned and
found that a steady stream of water was being
directed toward her from the direction of the
door. Nina was on the other side of it, had got
the range adroitly, and with a long pipe was,
through the keyhole, blowing water upon her
ample person with wicked delight and the most
dire effect upon a new dress. The stout lady
rushed across the room, pulled open the door,


and made an effort to seize Nina. But that
young person was too quick for her. She ran
down the hall, turned a corner, ran on farther,
darted up a long flight of stairs used by the
servants, and -presently was safe in Marian's
room, laughingly relating what had happened,
while the stout lady stormed about on the first
floor, uttering threats so violent that her just
vexation was made to seem ridiculous.
"There '11 be a horrid row," said Nina.
"She 'll go to Grandy and make a great fuss.
But it was n't anything, Cousin Marian. I just
wanted to have some fun, that was all; and you
ought to have seen her feeling around with her
hand to find out what it was at first. I nearly
died laughing. She 's horrid, anyway,-the
spitefullest person you ever saw; and my! but
she bounced when she did find out! I wonder
if she has gone to Grandy yet"--peeping out
of the door down the corridor. No, not yet.
Yes there she is! She sha'n't come in here!"
-shutting the door quickly and locking it, and
then embracing Marian.
"It was just, all fun, I tell you; now don't
you be horrid, and scold too. You might
stand up for me when I 've told you it was
just for fun, not spite at all, I declare, this
time. But Grandy '11 be furious with me.
Why don't you do something? I thought you
were different from the others, and would un-
derstand."
"So I do, Nina. I will see what can be
done," said Marian. And then she showed that
she did know the difference between the faults
and the sins of a child by first telling Nina that
it was not as if she had been guilty of wilful
deceit or untruth, convincing her that she had
been exceedingly rude, and absolutely persuad-
ing her to ask forgiveness. Nina did this when
they went down to dinner; and that she should
do it at all amazed her old enemy, who had
really suffered many annoyances at her hands,
and who was anything but gracious in accept-
ing her apology.
"You are the sensiblest person I 've ever
seen, Cousin Marian; and I just love you," said
Nina, that evening, when they were talking
over the apology.
"Two wrongs do not make a right. You
made her angry, remember; and if she is vin-


403






MISS NINA BARROW.


dictive, or seems so for the moment, it is be-
cause this is not your first offense against her.
If you had always been polite and courteous "
She 's nothing but a companion, anyway,"
said Nina scornfully.
"All the more reason for your being polite
to her. And perhaps she can't afford to have
even an old dress spoiled, much less a new one."
"Oh, pshaw! I '11 give her another," ex-
claimed Nina, impatiently.
"You can't patch every hole with green-
backs, as you seem to think you can, Nina.
If you hurt people's feelings, wound their
proper pride, treat them with disrespect or un-
kindness, all the money in the world won't
mend matters, dear. If I were to call you
a fool and a scarecrow, and then give you a
twenty-dollar gold piece, would you not want
to throw it at my head? I am sure you would.
Do you love me, Nina? I am so glad, and I
believe you. But you know you have n't quite
proved it yet. Oh, no. It is easy to say so,
but there are better ways of showing that you
do love me. We shall see."

CHAPTER IV.

NINA'S LESSONS.

WITH all her own thoroughness and con-
scientiousness, Marian went to work carefully
to map out, and arrange Nina's life on a new
basis.
The first requisite for that young lady's edu-
cation was quite evidently lacking, Marian saw,
when she came in switching her skirts about
more aggressively than usual, and shrugging
her shoulders. She took a chair and pouted
openly, thrusting out her lower lip and looking
defiant and disagreeable.
"I want to have some idea where we stand,
Nina," said Marian, oblivious apparently of
these demonstrations.
"I 'm not going to study. It 's too awful
hot and stuffy in here. I don't know as I 'm
going to have you for my governess at all; and
to-day I 'm going to the Chamber of Horrors
with the Tompkins family. They've got seven
rooms and a private parlor, and are ordering
Jobson around like anything; and they have n't


seen a thing in New York, and I told them I 'd
take them to see the Chamber of Horrors-"
"Have you promised?" asked Marian, in-
terrupting her.
Yes; and there 's nine of them,-I '11 be ten,
and they are full of it. I guess it will make
them all creep; and Janie,- she 's the third,-
I 'm going to jump out at her and grab her
when I get her down there. It 'll be such
fun !" said Nina, having by this time talked
herself into a state of good-humor and cheer-
fulness.
"Your Grandy thought you ought to be-
gin lessons to-day, Nina," Marian now man-
aged to say; but if you have promised,
you must keep your word, of course, and we
will have only one lesson, and see where we
stand, as I said. Here, take this book and
read a little in French for me. How many holi-
days have you had lately ?"
"Well, it 's been pretty much all holidays,
Cousin Marian, and that's a fact. One week
it rained, and one week I had the toothache
some, and one week my new dresses had n't
come home, and the girls had seen all the old
ones so often, I just would n't go a single step;
and then the Tompkinses came, and I did n't
want to go; but that did n't matter. Don't
you bother."
"Stay," said Marian; "here 's Claudine; let
me hear you speak French first."
Repeat your La Marseillaise,' mademoi-
selle," suggested Claudine.
Nothing loath, Nina struck an attitude and
burst forth into the broadest Alsatian peas-
ant Germanic-French, striking her breast and
.rolling her eyes as she made her stirring appeals
to the enfants de la barie," her denunciations
of the "gohortes Rtrangeres," and her threats of
" vers ds longtemps bi.-bars."
It was so comical to see and hear her that
Marian, although she tried hard to prevent
herself from doing so, could not help laughing
until the tears came. Even when she had re-
covered herself a little, and begged Nina's par-
don in answer to an imperious "What 's the
matter with you, anyway? the remembrance
overcame her again once or twice.
She then cross-questioned Claudine, and found
that she was from a little village that had made


[MAR.






MISS NINA BARROW.


405


the narrowest possible escape from being a
German one always; that she had a fiery little
French heart, if not tongue; that she had come
to this country as assistant to a baker, and had
then, to her surprise, been promoted to the rank
of maid and nurse in a "famille distingu6e, les
Hoskins, Avenue Madisone," from which place
she had been "secured by Mrs. Andrews.
Having dismissed Claudine, Marian said:
"You recited with expression, Nina; but Claud-
ine's French is anything but Parisian. She
would say 'Barisien.' She has n't a 'p' in her
alphabet. I will show you the difference; and
when you have unlearned a little we will soon
remedy that. You would not take lessons in
English from Bridget, would you? .Well,
Claudine's French is first cousin to Bridget's
English, and both are as bad as they can be.
As your teacher, I must see that you are prop-
erly taught whatever you are to learn. And
as your cousin, I wish to see you grow up an
accomplished, lovely girl. Now the lesson is
going to be this: you shall copy on this bit of
paper every fault of speech, English and French,
that you have made since you came in. And
then --I wonder whether you like pictures ?"
said Marian.
Yes, I do. I think they are just too splen-
did for anything," said Nina.
For a few moments after Nina's reply Ma-
rian was silent. She was thinking; and her
thoughts ran much as follows:
Cousin Elizabeth was right about Nina's
picking up an education. It is easy to do that
in any large city. But what an education!
What shall I say? Oh, dear! what have I
undertaken ? This child would almost have
to be born again to become what I should like
to see her. How thankful I am to think of
our dear children at home in our quiet,
old-fashioned country home in Maryland,-
simple, healthy, happy, leading a natural,
wholesome life, with their pony and chickens
and ducks and turkeys and pigeons and
other pets; up at sunrise, in bed at sundown;
reading, studying, playing, growing, working,
knowing every bird's nest for miles around,
every tree, every animal; rejoicing, like the sun,
to run their daily course; rosy, merry, eager,
innocently naughty often, wading in Sims's


brook, fishing, blackberrying; plainly dressed,
hungry as little wolves; but children through
and through. I long to be back with them
again! But I must, for their sakes, stay here.
And I must do what I can for Nina. But what
to do? To scold her would be folly. She
would not understand me if I were to tell
her that she shocks, disgusts, pains me every
time she.opens her lips. She would think me
'old-fashioned,' '.cross,' 'countrified,' 'absurd,'
'stiff,' everything except in the right. I am so
glad that my brothers are poor and will have to
earn every cent that they will ever spend, and
make their own way, and a way for others de-
pendent on them."
Marian's lips were compressed, her brows
contracted, as she bent her eyes upon her work
and these thoughts passed through her mind.
Presently she felt Nina's arms about her neck.
"What are you so quiet for, and why did you
want to know if I liked pictures ?" she asked.
"I was thinking of a great many things,
Nina," she replied. "And as to the pictures, I
was thinking of the great loan collection which
is on exhibition here now. I have had a number
of tickets sent me, and there are some very rare
and beautiful pictures in the collection. Suppose
we take the Tompkinses there to-day, instead of
to the wax-works ? This is the last day, indeed,
and you will see the original of this little pic-
ture of mine of the Arabian chief that you like
so much, and many others that will please you.
I would n't miss them for a great deal, and
meant to have spoken to you yesterday about
going. Can you draw or paint at all, Nina ?"
"No, I can't. Can you ? "
"It is the thing that I am thought to do
best," said Marian; but my best is not very
good when compared with such pictures as we
are going to see. Still I am very fond of draw-
ing in charcoal and pastels, and I think I
can teach you how to paint flowers prettily in
water-colors."
Oh, would you can you really ? I should
like that best of all. I do love flowers. They
are just too sweet for anything," said Nina.
So they are, dear. You should see our long
avenue of white lilacs at home in full bloom on
a spring morning, and you would say so. That
reminds me. We must stop while we are out,






MISS NINA BARROW.


and buy a few roses for the sick girl in the
next room, must n't we ? "
"All right. I '11 get her a big bunch of
'American beauties,' agreed Nina.
"And how would you like to paint her one,
for your first lesson ? That would n't fade ever,
and I know she would be delighted. Is n't she
a sweet, gentle creature? and so long ill -
seven years poor child !"
Well, I will," said Nina, who could not re-
sist such an appeal. Jobson says her mother
neglects her awful. Jobson's mother was the
best mother that ever was in England. She
was a professed cook. But his father was a
failure. Jobson -"
"Sh! Nina, no gossip; that 's one of the
'remembers,' you know," said Marian. "You
should say, 'neglects her shamefully,' if you say
it at all; and you 'd better not, for I dare say
there is no truth in it whatever. Come, now
for your list, and then I '11 go and arrange mat-
ters with Mrs. Tompkins, and we shall have a
delightful afternoon my word. for it! "
Thus beguiled, Nina was soon at work writ-
ing "unless" for "'less," "because" for "'cause,"
"almost" for "'most," and straightening out her
verbs and adverbs; and that done, Marian took
down Hawthorne from the shelf, and read her
the Three Gray Sisters," with which Nina was
delighted.
"There is a good deal that I want to get
out of that child's head, and the best way to
do it is to fill it, and drown them out with quite
other things. I foresee, though, that before
we go much further there will be a struggle
for supremacy between us. So far it has all
been plain sailing, but nevertheless the storm is
coming. There has been nothing to arouse her
temper or thwart her plans; no opposition en-
countered. I wonder how it will come, and
what will be the result!" mused Marian, as
she sat by Nina and watched her pencil travel
slowly over the paper.
She found it easy to arrange matters with
the Tompkins family, and after luncheon they
all went off together to see the loan collection
- chiefly modern pictures, some of them really
fine, and nearly all very interesting. Marian
kept Nina with her, and carefully explained
and commented upon the various examples of


French, Spanish, German, and English art be-
fore them; she talked so pleasantly of paintings
and painters, indeed, that Nina, whose attention
could rarely be fixed long upon anything, lis-
tened to every word, asked a great many
questions, made some highly characteristic re-
marks of her own that amused Marian very
much, and was for "coming again another day,"
forgetting that this was the last opportunity of
seeing those pictures.
On their way home, Marian stopped at an
optician's to get a little pocket microscope,
which she meant to give Nina, and said to her
frankly: I am going to make a purchase that
I do not wish you to see, Nina; so I shall ask
you to go to the back of the shop and wait
there a few minutes for me."
She was absorbed in making a choice of a mi-
croscope within her means, yet powerful enough
for ordinary purposes, when Nina rushed up to
her and threw herself into her arms, sobbing, and
so terrified that she could barely gasp out: Oh,
Cousin Marian! I am dying! I am dying!"
Amazed and alarmed, Marian embraced,
soothed, comforted her, and gradually learned
from one of the clerks what it meant, and what
had happened. Nina, it seemed, had with her
usual enterprise and boldness gone into a small
room quite at the rear. There was an electric
battery there, and a gentleman who came every
day to take a shock,- no, not a gentleman, for
he had done a most ungentlemanly thing in
allowing Nina to just catch hold for a mo-
ment." She, all unsuspicious, had received a
severe shock, physical and mental. She trem-
bled, wept, and was completely upset.
Marian was all kindness and gentleness, and
gradually managed to quiet Nina and to take
her home; and Nina clung to her like a limpet
all that evening, and would not leave her.
When they were about to part for the night,
Marian said to her:
"You see now, dear Nina, what a cruel and
often really wicked thing it is to frighten any
one, don't you ? See how ill and unhappy you
have been made all this afternoon by a stupid
trick. Let it teach you one thing: never to
give pain or fright to any one while you live.
I meant to speak to you about it when you
were talking to-day of jumping out at that


406


[MAR.






MISS NINA BARROW.


407


delicate little Janie Tompkins at the wax-works.
Don't take her there at all, dear, but invite her
to some pleasant place which will leave only
happy impressions."
"I will. And I.never, never, never will
scare anybody again while I am in this world! "
protested Nina with great warmth and perfect
sincerity.
When it came to having lessons next day,
Marian discovered how utterly undisciplined
Nina's mind was. To apply herself seriously
to anything seemed impossible. After three
minutes' study she would break off to quote
some speech of Jobson's mother, in whom she
had the liveliest interest; to gossip about this or
that person; to run into her Grandy's room or
her own for something, nothing, anything; to
stare out of the window, or at Marian sewing
quietly beside her. So Marian gave her a few
lessons only, and short ones; she read her one
of Macaulay's Lays," which made her eyes
sparkle, and a chapter from Dickens's Child's
History of England." She set up her crochet
and patiently showed her how to do two rows,
and was pleased to see that she drew the out-
line of a rose astonishingly well, from nature,
with very little assistance.
You have a correct eye and sense of form.
This is really very good, Nina," she said.
Your touch is free. I shall not be surprised
if you excel in time in water-color sketches.
Would you like now to run out for a brisk turn
with Claudine, and buy the roses you intended
to get for your neighbor yesterday ? "
Nina was no longer in a benevolent mood,
and, always capricious with the wayward moods
and fancies of an over-indulged child, now said
that she did n't mean to get any flowers at all.
"I can't help it if she is sick. I want my
money for myself; I 'm going to send Claud-
ine right out to get me a box of chocolate
creams."
She ran off to her room, found Claudine there
suffering from a face-ache and an ulcerated
tooth, and told her what she wished her to do.
But, mademoiselle, I am all of a berspira-
tion. I go to catch the gold and suffer so as
never was," urged the unfortunate Claudine.
"Really, I gannot not for my life was I go."


But you must!" Nina insisted.
Go she did, and returned with the box speed-
ily. Nina sat down and devoured half of its
contests, without offering so much as a morsel
to her grandmother or Marian, and was lock-
ing up the remainder when she caught Marian's
eye.
Do you want some? You can have it if
you do. I 've had all I want," she said, hold-
ing out the box.
"I appreciate your generosity, No, thank
you," said Marian, coldly.
Up rose Marian indignant, yet feeling that
she ought to be silent, and left the room.
Nina followed Marian, and going up to her,
would have kissed her on the cheek. Marian
did not look at her, and by slightly turning
her head avoided the kiss.
Mrs. Andrews had retired for the night, and
had ordered Nina to go to bed also.
Marian collected her sewing-materials and
went to her own room, passing Nina by as if
she had been a piece of furniture.
The child saw that Marian was deeply dis-
pleased, and already cared enough for her to
be troubled by it.
Half an hour later there was a tap at Marian's
door. It was Claudine, who demanded of
mademoiselle the kind loan of an umbrella. It
was raining, but Mees Nina she would 'ave
the ice-cream "; and, indeed, Nina had been in
and waked her grandmother, and by crying had
induced Claudine to go out at that hour, and
in the rain, seven squares off for that favorite
dainty.
Marian was aghast. At any other hour she
would have gone instead gladly, rather than
let the good-natured Alsatienne run such a risk
again.
It is midnight, and I am a stranger in
the city. It would not do. To remonstrate
with Cousin Elizabeth or Nina would be worse
than useless. Oh! The utter thoughtlessness,
the wretched selfishness, of the child! If she
could be in Claudine's shoes for a year or two!
Well, she is but a child, and there are life and
fate; but they are stern teachers, both, for
spoiled darlings, that is certain," mused Marian,
when left to herself again.


(To be continued.)


8rU.]































AT rHE OPERA.-"EARS DOWN IN FRONT, PLEASE'"


THE LITTLE SHADOW FOLK.


By CLINTON SCOLLARD.


WHAT time the round moon kindles on windy They race across the valley, they fleet along
wintry eves, the hill,
And murmurs stir those gossips, the sere old And yet we hear no laughter, their frolic is so
oaken leaves, still;
A troop of kin from Nowhere go faring to And what their jolly games are, alas! we may
and fro not know-
The nimble little shadow folk that dance upon The merry little shadow folk that dance upon
the snow. the snow.


They glide, they leap, they waver,-they twist,
they intertwine;
They break in tortuous turnings, they join in
freakish line;
Their arms with knots are gnarly, their legs
are all a-bow -
The elfish little shadow folk that dance upon
the snow.


Their daytime is our night-time, their night-
time is our day,
And they are sound in slumber when we are
6ut at play;
For when the dawn looks ruddy, swift off to
bed they go-
The sleepy little shadow folk that dance upon
the snow.
408












A BOY I KNEW.


By LAURENCE HUTTON.


[This series was begun in the December number.]

IV.

HEN The Boy got as far
as a room of his own,
papered with scenes from
circus-posters, and peo-
pled by tin soldiers, he
used to play that his bed
was the barge May-
flower," running from
Barrytown to the foot of Jay Street, North River,
and that he was her captain and crew. She
made nightly trips between the two ports;
and by day, when she was not tied up to the
door-knob--which was Barrytown-she was
moored to the handle of the washstand drawer
which was the dock at New York. She never
was wrecked, and she never ran aground; but
great was the excitement of The Boy when, as
not infrequently was the case, on occasions of
sweeping, Hannah, the upstairs girl, set her
adrift.
The Mayflower was seriously damaged by
fire once, owing to the careless use, by a deck-
hand, of a piece of punk on the night before the
Fourth of July; this same deck-hand being
nearly blown up early the very next morning
by a bunch of firecrackers which went off-
by themselves-in his lap. He did not know,
for a second or two, whether the barge had burst
her boiler or had been struck by lightning!
Barrytown is the river port of Red Hook -
a charming Dutchess County hamlet in which
The Boy spent the first summer of his life, and
in which he spent the better part of every suc-
ceeding summer for a quarter of a century; and
he sometimes goes there yet, although many of
the names he knows were carved, in the long-
ago, on the tomb. He always went up and
down, in those days, on the Mayflower, the real
boat of that name, which was hardly more real
VOL. XXIV.-52. 40


to him than was the trundle-bed of his vivid,
nightly imagination. They sailed from New York
at five o'clock, p. M., an hour looked for, and
longed for, by The Boy, as the very beginning
of summer, with all its delightful young charms;
and they arrived at their destination about five
of the clock the next morning, by which time
The Boy was wide awake, and on the lookout
for Lasher's Stage, in which he was to travel the
intervening three miles. And eagerly he rec-
ognized, and loved, every landmark on the road.
Barringer's Corner, the half-way tree; the road
to the creek and to Madame Knox's; and, at
last, the village itself, and the tavern, and the
tobacco-factory, and Massoneau's store, over the
way; and then, when Jane Purdy had shown him
the new kittens and the little chickens, and he
had talked to Fido and Fanny," or to Fido
alone after Fanny was stolen by gypsies, he
rushed off to see Bob Hendricks, who was just
his own age, barring a week, and who has been
his life-long friend for fifty-three years and
nearly six months; and then what good times
The Boy had!
Bob was possessed of a grandfather who
could make kites, and swings, and parallel-bars,
and things which The Boy liked; and Bob
had a mother-and he has her yet, happy
Bob! who made the most wonderful of cook-
ies, perfectly round, with sparkling globules of
sugar on them, and little round holes in the
middle; and Bob and The Boy for days, and
weeks, and months together hen's-egged, and
rode in the hay-carts, and went for the mail
every noon, and boosted each other up into the
best pound-sweet tree in the neighborhood; and
pelted each other with little green apples, which
weighed about a pound to the peck; and gath-
ered currants in season; and with long straws
sucked new cider out of bung-holes; and learned
to swim; and caught their first fish; and did all
the pleasant things that all boys do.
*9








At Red Hook they smoked their first cigar,- Bob remembers, too,- what The Boy tries
and wished they had n't! At Red Hook they to forget,-The Boy's daily practice of half an
disobeyed their mothers once, and were found hour on the piano borrowed by The Boy's
out. They were told not to go wading in the mother from Mrs. Bates for that dire purpose.
creek upon pain of not going to the creek at Mrs. Bates's piano is almost the only unpleasant
all; and for weeks thing associated with Red Hook in all The
they were deprived Boy's experience of that happy village. It was
of the delights of pretty hard on The Boy, because, in The Boy's
the society of mind, Red Hook should have been a place
the Faure boys, of unbroken delights. But The Boy's mother
through whose do- wanted to make an all-round man of him, and
main the creek when his mother said so, of course it had to be
ran, because, when done, oir tried. Bob used to go with The Boy
they went to bed as far as Dr. Bates's house, and then hang
on that disastrous about on the gate until The Boy was released;
night, it was dis- and he asserts that the music which came out
covered that Bob of the window in response to The Boy's in-
had on The Boy's harmonic touch had no power whatever to
BOB HENDRICKS. stockings, and that soothe his own savage young breast. He at-
The Boy was wearing Bob's socks; a piece of tributes all his later disinclination to music to
circumstantial evidence which convicted them those dreary thirty minutes of impatient waiting.
both. When the embargo was raised and they The piano and its effect upon The Boy's un-
next went to the creek, it is remembered that certain temper may have been the innocent
Bob tore his trousers in climbing over a
log, and that The Boy fell in altogether.
The Boy usually kept his promises, how-
ever, and he was known even to keep a
candy-cane -twenty-eight inches long, red
and white striped like a barber's pole--
for a fortnight, because his mother limited
him to the consumption of two inches a
day. But he could not keep any knees to
his trousers; and when The Boy's mother
threatened to sew buttons--brass buttons,
with sharp eyes--on to that particu-
lar portion of the garment in question, he
wanted to know, in all innocence, how
they expected him to say his prayers!
One of Bob's earliest recollections of
The Boy is connected with a toy express-
wagon on four wheels, which could almost
turn around on its own axis. The Boy im-
ported this vehicle into Red Hook one
summer, and they used it for the transpor-
tation of their chestnuts and their apples,
green and ripe, and the mail, and most of
the dust of the road; and Bob thinks, to
this day, that nothing in all these after years cause of the first and only approach to a
has given him so much profound satisfaction quarrel which The Boy and Bob ever had,
and enjoyment as did that little cart. The prime cause, however, was, of course, a


[MAR.


410


A BOY I KNEW.






A BOY I KNEW.


girl. They were playing, that afternoon, at
Cholwell Knox's, when Cholwell said some-
thing about Julia Booth which Bob resented,
and there was a fight, The Boy taking Chol-
well's part; why, he cannot say, unless it was
because of his jealousy of. Bob's affection and
admiration for that charming young teacher,
who won all hearts in the village, The Boy's





R!



3 I'll''









THE BOY'S UNCLE JOHN.

among the number. Anyway, Bob was driven
from the field by the hard little green apples
of the Knox orchard; more hurt, he declares,
by the desertion of his ally than by all the blows
he received.
It never happened again, dear Bob, and,
please God, it never will!
Another trouble The Boy had in Red Hook
was Dr. McNamee, a resident dentist, who
operated upon The Boy now and then. He
was a little more gentle than was The Boy's
city dentist, Dr. Castle; but he hurt, for all that.
Dr. Castle lived in Fourth Street, opposite
Washington Parade Ground, and'on the same
block with Clarke and Fanning's School. And
to this day The Boy would go far out of his
way rather than pass Dr. Castle's house. Per-
sonally Dr. Castle was a delightful man, who
told The Boy amusing stories, which The Boy
could not laugh at while his mouth was wide
open. But professionally Dr. Castle was to
The Boy an awful horror, of whom he always
dreamed when his dreams were particularly
bad. As he looks back upon his boyhood,


with its frequent toothache and its long hours
in the dentists' chairs, The Boy sometimes
thinks that if he had his life to live over again,
and could not go through it without teeth,
he would prefer not to be born at all!
It has rather amused The Boy, in his middle
age, to learn of the impressions he made upon
Red Hook in his extreme youth. Bob, as has
been shown, associates him with a little cart,
and with a good part of the concord of sweet
sounds. One old friend remembers nothing
but his phenomenal capacity for the consump-
tion of chicken pot-pie. Another old friend
can recall the scrupulously clean white duck
suits he wore of afternoons, and also the blue-
checked long aprons he was forced to wear
in the mornings; both of them exceedingly
distasteful to The Boy, because the apron was
a girl's garment, and because the duck-suit
meant dress-up," and only the mildest of gen-
teel play; while Bob's sister dwells chiefly
now upon a wonderful valentine The Boy sent
once to Zillah Crane. It was so large that
it had to have an especial envelope made to
fit it; and it was so magnificent, and so delicate,
that notwithstanding the envelope, it came in a
box of its own. It had actual lace, and pinkish
Cupids reclining on light-blue clouds; and in
the center of all was a compressible bird-cage,
which, when it was pulled out, like an accordion,
displayed not a dove merely, but a plain gold
ring- a real ring, made of real gold. Nothing
like it had ever been seen before in all Dutchess
County; and it was seen and envied by every
girl of Zillah's age between Rhinebeck and
Tivoli, between Barrytown and Pine Plains.
The Boy did an extensive business in the
valentine line, in the days when February Four-
teenth meant much more to boys than it does
now. He sent sentimental valentines to Phoebe
Hawkins, and comic valentines to his Uncle
John, both of them written anonymously, and
both directed in a disguised hand. But both
recipients always knew from whom they came;
and, in all probability, neither of them was much
affected by the receipt. The Boy, as he has put
on record elsewhere, never really, in his inmost
heart, thought that comic valentines were so
very comic, because those that came to him
usually reflected upon his nose, or were illum-






A BOY I KNEW.


inated with portraits of gentlemen of all ages
adorned with supernaturally red hair.
In later years, when Bob and The Boy could
swim a little and had learned to take care
of themselves, the mill-pond at Red Hook
played an important part in their daily life
there. They sailed it, and fished it, and camped
out on its banks, with Ed Curtis -before Ed
went to West Point -and with Dick Hawley
and Frank Rodgers, all first-rate fellows. But,
as Mr. Kipling says, that is another story.
The Boy was asked, a year or two ago, to
write a paper upon The Books of his Boy-
hood." And when he came to think over the
matter he discovered, to his surprise, that the
Books of his Boyhood were only one book! It
was bound in two twelvemo green'cloth vol-
umes; it bore the date of 185o, and it was
filled with pictorial illustrations of "The Per-
sonal History and Experiences of David Cop-
perfield, the Younger." It was the first book
The Boy ever read, and he thought then, and
sometimes he thinks now, that it was the
greatest book ever written. The traditional
books of the childhood of other children came
to The Boy later. "Robinson Crusoe," and
the celebrated "Swiss Family" of the same
name; The Desert Home," of Mayne Reid;
Marryat's "Peter Simple"; "The Leather
Stocking Tales"; Rob Roy"; "The Three
Guardsmen" were well thumbed and well liked;
but they were not The Boy's first love in fic-
tion, and they never usurped, in his affections,
the place of the true account of David Cop-
perfield. It was a queer book to have ab-
sorbed the time and attention of a boy of eight
or nine, who had to skip the big words, who did
not understand it all, but who cried, as he has
cried but once since, whenever he came to that
dreadful chapter which tells the story of the
taking away of David's mother, and of David's
utter, hopeless desolation over his loss.
How the book came into The Boy's posses-
sion he cannot now remember, nor is he sure
that his parents realized how much, or how
often, he was engrossed in its contents. It
cheered him in the measles, it comforted him
in the mumps. He took it to school with him,
and he took it to bed with him; and he read it,
over and over again, especially the early chap-


ters; for he did not care so much for David
after David became Trotwood, and fell in love.
When, in 1852, after his grandfather's death,
he first saw London, it was not the London
of the Romans, the Saxons, or the Normans,
nor the London of the Plantagenets or the
Tudors, but the London of the Micawbers and
the Traddleses, the London of Murdstone and
Grinby, the London of Dora's Aunt and of"Jip."
On his arrival at Euston Station the first object
upon which his eyes fell was a donkey-cart, a
large wooden tray on wheels, driven, at a rapid
pace, by a long-legged young man, and fol-
lowed, at a pace hardly so rapid, by a boy
of about his own age, who seemed in great
mental distress. This was the opening scene.
And London, from that moment, became to
him, and still remains, a great moving panor-
ama of David Copperfield.
The Boy never walked along the streets
of London by his father's side during that mem-
orable summer without meeting in fancy some
friend of David's, without passing some spot
that David knew, and loved, or hated. And
he recognized St. Paul's Cathedral at the first
glance, because it had figured as an illustration
on the cover of Peggotty's work-box!
This was the Book of The Boy's Boyhood.
He does not recommend it as the exclusive
literature of their boyhood to other boys; but
oht of it The Boy knows that he got nothing
but what was healthful- and helping. It taught
him to abominate selfish brutality and sneaking
falsehood, as they were exhibited in the Murd-
stones and the Heeps; it taught him to avoid
rash expenditure as it was practiced by the
Micawbers; it showed him that a man like
Steerforth might be the best of good fellows
and at the same time the worst and most dan-
gerous of corfpanions; it showed, on the other
hand, that true friends like Traddles are worth
having and worth keeping; it introduced him
to the devoted, sisterly affection of a woman
like Agnes; and it proved to him that the rough
pea-jacket of a man like Ham Peggotty might
cover the simple heart of as honest a gentle-
man as ever lived.

The Boy, in his time, has been brought in
contact with many famous men and women,


412


[MAR.






A BOY I KNEW.


but upon nothing in his whole experience does
he look back with greater satisfaction than upon
his slight intercourse with the first great man
he ever knew. Quite a little lad, he was staying
at the Pulaski House in Savannah, in 1853 -
perhaps it was in 1855--when his father told
him to observe particularly the old gentleman,
with the spectacles, who occupied a seat at
their table in the public dining-room; for, he
said, the time would come when The Boy
would be very proud to say that he had break-
fasted, and dined, and supped with Mr. Thack-
eray. He had no idea who, or what, Mr.
Thackeray was ; but his father considered him
a great man, and that was enough for The Boy.
He did pay particular attention to Mr. Thack-


eray, with his eyes and his ears; and one morn-
ing Mr. Thackeray paid a little attention to him,
of which he is proud, indeed. Mr. Thackeray
took The Boy between his knees, and asked
his name, and what he intended to be when he
grew up. He replied, "A farmer, sir." Why,
he cannot imagine, for he never had the slight-
est inclination toward a farmer's life. And then
Mr. Thackeray put his gentle hand upon The
Boy's little red head, and said: "Whatever you
are, try to be a good one."
If there is any virtue in the laying-on of
hands The Boy can only hope that a little of it
has descended upon him.
And whatever The Boy is, he has tried, for
Thackeray's sake, to be a good one! "


THE END.


THACKERAY'S ADVICE TO THE BOY: "'WHATEVER YOU ARE, TRY TO BE A GOOD ONE.'"


1897.]











SOME QUEER CRAFT.


BY GUSTAV KOBBE.


A FIJI ISLAND CATAMARAN, OR DOUBLE CANOE.


A PIECE of wood whittled to a point for the
hull, a slender chip stepped" in a slit for
the mast, a bit of paper for the sail, and
we have the small boy's typical boat. Simple
as it is, it is interesting, because, by himself, the
boy has adopted the square sail of the North-
ern races--a sail so typical of these that it
was doubtless part of the rig of the Viking
ship. Sometimes a boy will jab his mast
through two pieces of paper,- a larger one,
with a smaller one above it for a topsail,-
unconsciously adopting the characteristic rig
of the Norwegian Coaster. The first sign of
disaster to the small boy's boat is the wetting
of the sail as the miniature waves break over
the deck. When the lower part of the sail
becomes water-soaked and limp, there is dan-


ger of foundering in mid-pond or -puddle. To
avoid this very danger on the real ocean, that
portion of the Norwegian coaster's sail most
exposed to a wetting is fastened to the rest
by bands or "bonnets," and can be entirely
removed when the necessity to reef arises.
The Southern nations, from the Mediterra-
nean to the tropics, with their eye for the pic-
turesque and their love of nature, copied the
wing of a bird and adopted the pinion-like
lateen sail, with its great curving yard and for-
ward raking mast the gibbous or true sail-
wing of the South," as it is called. You can
see gaudily painted little boats rigged with la-
teen sails along the levee of the Mississippi, off
the old French Market at New Orleans-and
these we owe to the Italian truck-gardeners,






SOME QUEER CRAFT.


who carry their produce to market in these
picturesque little' craft.
All sails are variations of one or another of
these two great types--the square and the
lateen. The use of the former in barks and
brigs and other square-rigged vessels is plain.
And we can readily see, too, the fact that the
fore-and-aft rig (jib and mainsail), which, because
it is easier to handle, is rapidly supplanting the
square, is an adaptation of the lateen, the for-
ward rake of the mast having been increased
until it became a bowsprit, while the great
yard became the gaff of the mainsail. The la-
teen sail is remarkable for its lifting capacity,
and the jib possesses this quality to an even
greater degree.
The fore-and-aft rig derives its ease of han-
dling by direct borrowing from the lateen sail,
which is as effective as it is simple. The craft
of the Ladrone Islanders are so swift that they
are called Flying Proas. They are long and
very narrow, and alike at both ends double-


enders among sailing craft; for by simply
shifting the sail, bow and stern are reversed as


PROA, WITH OUTRIGGER.

they are by reversing the engines of a ferry-
boat. Thus the proa is not obliged to "go
about." The same side is always to leeward;
and this is flat so that she can be sailed very
close. The windward side is rounded, and to
prevent the proa from capsizing on account of


--cc


A DAHABIYEH, THE BOAT OF THE NILE.


415






SOME QUEER CRAFT.


the extreme narrowness of beam, an outrigger,
to which a hollow, boat-shaped log is attached,
extends from this side, so that the proa is a
catamaran with one hull much smaller than
the other. In sailing her a man sits in each


end, steering with a paddle when the end in
which he sits happens to be the stern. No iron
is used in the construction of the proa. The
sides are made separately, and sewed together
at the ends with bark. The peculiar build of


AN ESKIMO IN HIS KAYAK.


416


[MAR.


A MULET, ...OR PORTUGUESE FIS -TBOAT.
A MULETA, OR PORTUGUESE FISHING-BOAT.






SOME QUEER CRAFT.


the flying proa double-ended, with differ-
ing sides, one always lee, the other always wea-
ther -is made possible by the direction of the
trade-winds and the fact that the Ladrone
Islands lie in a line almost due north and south,
so that these slim, birdlike, craft have simply to
follow these points of the compass.
The Fiji Islanders have so-called Double
Canoes," which resemble the proa. One kind
of Fiji Island canoe is, however, more like a
true catamaran, the hulls being decked over
and connected by a platform instead of by out-
riggers. Hatches lead below decks, and there
is a small raised platform protected by a mat
as a quarter-deck, from which the captain main-
tains a lookout for schools of fish. These craft
are often from sixty to eighty feet long, and
are steered with an oar twenty feet in length.
Two and sometimes more men are required to
handle this oar. The mast is on a pivot, and
instead of going about, the sail is simply shifted
from bow to stern.
And now, shifting the scene from the isles
of the Pacific to the Nile, we find another char-
acteristic lateen-sail craft in the Egyptian Da-
habiyeh, the passenger-boat of the Nile, or in
the Nuggar, the freight-boat of that historic
river. These craft ply under regular racing
rig, for the huge yard, with its powerful sweep,
is about one third longer than the hull, and
there is also a lateen-rigged jigger-mast. Where
one of these craft is eighty feet long, the yard
is one hundred, and twenty so long that it
is made of several pieces firmly spliced. This
enormous sail-power is required to stem the
current. Nine months of the year the' Reis,
as the captain is called, has the wind fair up-
stream, and on the return voyage he stows
away the sail and just floats down. To swing
around with the current, he has a rudder six
feet wide, the tiller extending over the top of
the cabin, which is flush with the deck. And
so the dahabiyeh drifts slowly past the ancient
ruins along this famous stream; and the pas-
senger on this craft, of a type perhaps coeval


with the Pharaohs, concludes that he who has
not "done" Egypt on a dahabiyeh has not
done it at all. The nuggar is like the dahabiyeh,
except that it has no deck, only a stage for the
steersman. It is a rough-looking craft built of
short pieces of wood so loosely joined as to
require much plugging with mud and rags.
Perhaps the oddest-looking craft in the world
is the Muleta, the boat of the Portuguese fisher-
men. The remarkable features of the rig are
the numerous little spritsails forward, which re-
semble so many little white-winged birds flying
ahead of the vessel. Curious, too, is the rowel
of ornamental nails at the bow. The usual
method of fishing from the muleta is with drag-
nets.
While the tropical and semi-tropical sailor
clings to his lateen rig, the extreme Northern
race, the Eskimo, clings perforce to his Kayak
and paddle. The kayak suggests our racing-
shell, but without the sliding seat, and so cov-
ered over that only a hole remains to admit the
body. Even if the Eskimo of the extreme
North wished to adopt a sail, he could not do
so for lack of wood for the mast. The light
frame of his kayak is made of bone skilfully
thonged with seal-leather, and the skin of the
seal is generally used for the covering. I have
seen the Eskimos of Labrador in their kayaks,
and it is wonderful with what a quick, nervous
quiver these light craft respond to the slightest
touch of the paddle. Within easy reach are
the harpoons, guns, and bladder-floats of these
daring sea-hunters, who, in their frail-looking
kayaks, with -icebergs towering almost in their
course, and the white glare of the ice loom"
in the offing, brave dangers compared with
which those encountered by the navigators of
the flying proas, dahabiyehs, and muletas are
trifling. The Eskimos furnish the extreme in-
stance of that dogged courage of the Northern
races which, united with intellectual energy, has
enabled those more favored in their surroundings
than these dwellers on arctic shores to develop
into the great people of the earth.


VOL. XXIV.-53.


417


1897.]











HOW A PRESIDENT IS INAUGURATED.


BY CLIFFORD HOWARD.


ON the 4th of this March the twenty-fifth
President of the United States will be inaugu-
rated. The beautiful capital of our nation has
been the scene of many grand and imposing
celebrations; but it is said that the inaugu-
ration this year will be more magnificent
than anything of the kind that has ever taken
place in Washington. If Thomas Jefferson
could come back to earth, it would be hard
to make him believe that all this wonderful
ceremony was for no other purpose than to
install a new President in office. As you will
remember, Thomas Jefferson was the first Presi-
dent of our country to be inaugurated at Wash-
ington. This took place in the year i8oi,
when our national capital was not much more
than a year old; and you may imagine that the
city was a very different-looking place from
what it is to-day.
But now instead of a straggling town with a
few muddy streets and about three thousand
inhabitants, Jefferson would find our national
capital one of the most beautiful cities on the
face of the earth, with a population of nearly
three hundred thousand; and on March 4 he
would behold a scene such as he never dreamed
of. Thousands of flags fly from the house-tops
and windows, bright-colored bunting in beau-
tiful designs adorns the great public buildings,
all the stores and business houses are gaily deco-
rated with flags and streamers, and everything
presents the appearance of a great and glorious
holiday, while the streets swarm with the hun-
dreds of thousands of people who have come
to the city from all parts of the country to take
part in the grand celebration.
Everybody is moving toward Pennsylvania
Avenue, where the parade is to march. No,
not everybody: some fifty or sixty thousand
make their way to the Capitol, so as to get a
glimpse of the inauguration exercises that take
place on the east portico; and although the


ceremonies will not begin until nearly one
o'clock, the great space in front of the Capitol
is packed with people three hours before that
time, some of them having come as early as
eight o'clock in the morning to be sure of get-
ting a good view.
Early in the morning Pennsylvania Avenue is
cleared of all street-cars, carriages, and bicycles,
and no one is allowed to step off the sidewalk.
A strong wire rope is stretched along each side
of the avenue, so as to prevent people from
getting into the street.
Soon every window and balcony along the
line is crowded with spectators. Even the
roofs are black with people, and small boys
may be .seen perched among the branches of
the trees, or hanging on to the electric-light
poles. For a distance of nearly three miles, on
each side of the street, people are packed so
closely together that it is almost impossible for
them to move. In every park and open space
along the line large wooden stands have been
erected; and these, too, are filled with those
who are willing to pay for seats.
As the time for the morning parade draws
near, the crowds become restless with eager-
ness and excitement. Policemen on horseback
dash up and down the avenue to see that the
road is clear, and every now and then a trooper
or messenger in bright uniform gallops past.
Suddenly the boom of a cannon is heard. The
next moment there comes the distant roll of
drums, and then, amid the inspiring music of
brass bands and tremendous cheering, the pro-
cession appears moving slowly down the avenue
on its way to the Capitol. Riding ahead is a
squad of mounted police- big, brawny fellows,
with glittering brass buttons. After them come
the United States troops and naval forces, armed
with their rifles and sabers that flash in the
sunlight, and marching to the music of the fa-
mous Marine Band, while rumbling over the






HOW A PRESIDENT IS INAUGURATED.


hard, smooth pavement of the avenue come
the big cannons drawn by powerful horses.
Then appears the chief marshal of the parade
on his spirited horse, heading the body-guard
of soldiers that surround the open carriage
containing the President and the President-
elect, sitting side by side. As the carriage,
which is drawn by four handsome horses, rolls
slowly along with its distinguished occupants,
men and boys shout and cheer at the top of
their lungs, and throw their hats into the air
when their voices give out, while the women
and girls wave their handkerchiefs and hurrah
with the rest of the crowd. With hat in hand,
the President-elect smiles and bows to the right
and the left; and with the bands playing and
people cheering, handkerchiefs fluttering and
flags flying, he arrives at the Capitol a few min-
utes before noon. Here he meets with another
rousing reception from the great mass of peo-
ple who have been waiting for him for two or
three hours; and it requires all the efforts of a
small army of police to open a way for him and
his party to pass into the Capitol.
The Fifty-fourth Congress is drawing to a
close. The House of Representatives is about
to adjourn, and many of its members have al-
ready .come over to the Senate to witness the
closing exercises there. Extra chairs and seats
have been brought in for them and the many
other prominent officials who also have gathered
there, including the officers of the army and the
navy, the justices of the Supreme Court, the
cabinet officers, and the foreign ambassadors
and ministers, many of whom are dressed in
their gorgeous state robes. According to law,
Congress must come to an end at noon; but
if the presidential party has not made its ap-
pearance when the Senate clock is about to
point to twelve, the hands are moved back a
few minutes so as to gain time'. And before
the hands are allowed to get around to twelve,
everybody has arrived, everything is in readi-
ness, and the President of the Senate has ad-
ministered the oath of office to his successor,
the new Vice-President of the United States,
who at once calls an extra session of the Sen-
ate, so that not a moment elapses between the
death of one session and the birth of another.
Then, after a short prayer by the chaplain and


a brief address by the Vice-President, the dis-
tinguished people gathered in the Senate form
in line, and, headed by a company of newspa-
per reporters, they march in dignified procession
to the rotunda, and thence to the platform on
the east front of the Capitol.
The nine justices of the Supreme Court,
clothed in their black robes, walk out on the
platform first, followed by the President-elect.
As soon as the crowd catches sight of him, a
deafening shout breaks forth from fifty thou-
sand throats, and, amid the enthusiastic uproar
that lasts several minutes, hats and canes, um-
brellas and handkerchiefs, are waved aloft or
thrown wildly into the air by joyous and pa-
triotic Americans. Removing his hat, the
President-elect comes forward, and, turning to
the Chief Justice of the United States, takes
the oath of office as required by the Consti-
tution. Then comes the inaugural address,
which, of course, only those near the platform
are able to hear. But the thirty or forty thou-
sand who can't hear the speech are willing to
agree with everything that is said, and every
little while they shout and cheer and applaud.
All this time the crowd on the avenue has
been patiently waiting for the return of the
President. 'The morning's procession was noth-
ing more than a military escort; now is to
come the great feature of the day- the grand
inauguration parade. The ceremonies at the
Capitol are over at half-past one, and the new
President goes at once to the White House,
greeted with rousing cheers all along the way,
and prepares to review the greatest parade ever
seen in the city of Washington. All the morn-
ing, companies of soldiers, political clubs, bands,
and drum corps have been preparing for the
afternoon's march. There are so many thou-
sands who are going to take part in the parade
that orders have been given requiring all com-
panies to march in ranks reaching from curb
to curb, a distance of one hundred and thirty
feet, and to follow one another as closely as
possible.
The march is begun a little before two
o'clock; and, although the people have been
standing on the sidewalks since early morning,
they have plenty of enthusiasm left, and they
fill the air with their shouts and hurrahs as


419






HOW A PRESIDENT IS INAUGURATED.


regiment after regiment of magnificently drilled
soldiers and horses marches by.
Even after the electric lamps are lighted,
men and horses are still tramping along the
avenue, and people are still shouting and the
bands playing and flags waving. And all this
time the President stands in front of the White
House, reviewing the marching thousands' as
they pass along.
But although the big parade finally comes to
an end, the festivities are not yet over. Late


into the night the city is brilliantly illuminated
by magnificent and wonderful fireworks and
powerful electric search-lights that shine from the
tops of the tall buildings and light up the great
dome of the Capitol and the Washington mon-
ument. Then comes the grand inaugural ball.
There are over ten thousand people present,
and the scene is a glorious and wonderful sight.
It is almost sunrise when the last carriage
rolls away, and with the closing of the ball the
inauguration festivities end.


JOHNNY IN GOBOLINK LAND.

By RUTH McENERY STUART AND ALBERT BIGELOW PAINE.


THE Gobolink book was too big to go into
Johnny's stocking, and so Santa Claus tied it
with a blue ribbon, and laid it on the end of
the mantel just above where the stocking hung.
The old fellow giggled when he placed it
there, and his eyes twinkled mischievously as
he slipped a bit of folded paper beneath the
ribbon, and this was what was written upon it:
This book is for Johnny; and what do you think?
Our Johnny himself is a gay Gobolink:
You never can tell for a moment or two
Just what little Johnny is likely to do.
Johnny cared more about the letter at first
than he did about the book. It was an auto-
graph letter written, by old Santa himself, and
it was really very exciting to get a message di-
rect from headquarters. He hastened to seize
his pen and ink so that he might label it prop-
erly for his autograph collection. He did not
notice in his excitement that he let a drop fall
into the upper fold of the sheet, but when pres-
ently he opened it again to show it to the cook,
behold the ink splash had formed itself into a
curious little figure which he afterward found
to be a veritable Gobolink.
It had no features worth mentioning, but it
seemed full of life. The very tightness with
which Johnny had clasped the note had sent
out from the blot various dancing legs, while a


pair of goggle eyes shot up from the tip-top of
a great round head.
"I '11 tell you what I 'm going to do," said
Johnny. I'm going to name him Santa Claus.
Ah, ha, Mr. Santa Claus," he chuckled, "you
call me a Gobolink, do you? And what are
you yourself? If there ever was an uncertain
person on earth, you are one. We don't know
anything at all about you or what you 'll bring,
or how you find out things about fellows; and
so if I 'm a Gobolink, so are-"
By this time Johnny had begun to write.
He labored and breathed hard for about three
minutes. And this was the result:

Dear Sahty Claws, I 'm much oblige.
This pictures you and more besides.
JOHNNY M. WILKENSON.

Johnny's rhyme may not have been up to
the mark, but his ideas of poetry had been re-
-ceived mainly from Mother Goose, who is not
very strict in this respect.
But he soon learned that Gobolinks are coy
fellows and the Muse uncertain. He used a
good deal of paper, and got a number of fool-
ish nothings which might have pleased him but
for his first great success.
As the snow-storm continued, he sat at his
little desk all day, dropping ink, folding and


420


[iAR.






JOHNNY IN GOBOLINK LAND.


pressing, with only a few real live Gobolinks to
reward his pains.
That night, when the light was out, Johnny
seemed to see funny little figures all over the
wall. Some were alone -exactly alike on both
sides and some, differing in their parts, came
in twos and groups.
And so they kept on coming and coming,
Widgelums in pairs- Dipsey-Doodle-the-great-
Kioodle, and his brother -followed by a long
procession. But Johnny thought none of them
so fine as his own festive Santa Claus. No
verse in the book gave him quite such pleasure
as his own first couplet.
"I '11 make a lot of Gobolinks to-morrow
that '11 beat the whole book all to pieces an'
I '11 write some more poetry to them, too."
As he uttered this resolution aloud he sud-
denly heard a queer little titter, and looking up
he saw the funniest and fattest old fellow imag-
inable walking up and down the brass rod that
ran across the foot of his bed. He evidently
was not timid, for he kept his footing easily,
with his hands deep in his pockets.
What are you laughing at, Mr. Smarty, and
who are you ? Johnny sat bolt upright as he
spoke. He was not a coward, and even if he
had been, the funny little fellow was far smaller
than himself.
At this the intruder stopped in the middle
of the brass rod, and chuckled.
"Who are you, I say?" Johnny repeated.
"I am the Great Gee-Whizz!" As he
spoke, his guest made a low bow to the moon,
which at that moment peeped in at the east win-
dow. "I am the Great Gee-Whizz surnamed
The Riotous, because of my festive disposition;
and if you'll be attentive, and excuse my back,
I '11 gobble all about it for you."
Johnny had never been quite so attentive in all
his life, and presently, the funny fellow began to
sing in an uncommonly-high-pitched voice:

"Oh, I am the Great Gee-Whizz!
My regular business is
To carry the keys of Gobolink land-
Ca-flappety-boodle-sizz "

As he uttered the last line he suddenly
flapped his great arms and ears like wings, and
Johnny nearly fell out of bed with surprise.


Gee-Whizz laughed pleasantly at this. "Don't
be disturbed," he said; those last words are
Gobolink talk; and I often end my songs with
that wing-like movement. Being Keeper of the
Keys, I mostly keep my hands in my pockets;
and as Lord High Gobolinktum to the King I
preserve my dignity by turning my back to
everybody except His Highness. These others


"KEEPER OF THE KEYS."
that you see are in my train. I was laughing
just now because you spoke of making Gobo-
links.. You might get a few Gobolinkpictures;
but there 's just as much difference between a
Gobolink and his picture as there is between
a boy and his photograph, or his gobograph,
as we call them. We have lots of gobographs
of you, by the way, in our collection."
Johnny was sitting bolt upright now.
Oh, we snap you on the fly," continued the
Gee-Whizz. "You are a pretty nice fellow -
for a boy. Of course, you are not a Gobolink."
By this time, Johnny had pretty well recov-
ered himself, and he was a trifle offended at the
insinuation of his guest; also, perhaps, at his
facility in making rhymes, which Johnny had
not found by any means so easy a task.


897-1]






JOHNNY IN GOBOLINK LAND.


"I do not think Gee-Whizz is a very nice
name," he said, a little crossly; and Ca-flap-
pety-boodle-sizz sounds like slang. I don't be-
lieve you would have said it if you could have
thought of anything else to rhyme. It sounds
to me more like a soda-fountain. I '11 take
chocolate and cream, please," he added.
All the Gobolinks laughed at this. Johnny
could hear them tittering all over the room,
even where he could not see them, and he
suddenly realized, that he was in the midst of
a great number of the strange creatures.
Oh," said the Gee-Whizz, you will have to
go with us if you want soda-water to-night.
We will take you to the land of Noodle. It is
not very far, as it is only on the border of the
Gobolink country. Of course, we could not take
you to the capitol or the-King's palace on the
first trip. It is day after to-morrow there now."
Almost before he knew it, Johnny found him-
self on the way. He had no idea what direc-
tion they were taking. He did not recognize
any of the country as they swept along far
above it. His arm was linked through -that of
the Great Gee-Whizz, and behind them came
a troop of ridiculous creatures.
Johnny kept constantly looking over his
shoulder at the grotesque train.
"Is it much farther?"' he asked, when he
thought they had come about 275Y miles.
"Oh, yes, some distance," replied the Great
Gee-Whizz; and to pass the time I will tell you
a sad little story of Noodle land, which con-
tains a moral as well as a romance. You are
fond of rhymes, I perceive, so I will recite it
in that way. All Gobolinks are very good single-
handed poets, and you will get a number of ideas
on rhyming from us in the course of time."
Johnny was rather overawed by this state-
ment.
I shall be very glad, indeed, to learn," he
said, humbly. "I 'm afraid my poetry would
not do to put into a book -yet."
Oh, for that matter I have seen some
pretty poor poetry in books," said the Gee-
Whizz. "I have written some of it myself.
'The Sad Fate of the Gentle Oodle' is my
latest :
"Once there was a gay Gamboodle-
Tall and brave was he;


And he loved a gentle Oodle-
This was in the land of Noodle
Where all Oodles be.
"'Dear,' he whispered to the Oodle,
'Whatsoe'er you do,
Look out for the fierce Impoodle--
He would make a thin Cathoodle
Quickly out of you.'
Then the foolish little Oodle
Laughed and shook her head.
"'Never mind, my gay Gamboodle
I fear not your fierce Impoodle,'
Thus the Oodle said.
"But, alas, a thin Cathoodle
She was doomed to be;
For, one day, the fierce Impoodle
Caught the gentle little Oodle-
Silly Oodle -poor Gamboodle--
Lonely now is he."

Johnny had grown very grave during this
recital.
"Is that a true story ? he faltered, as the
Gee-Whizz fin-
ished.
"Oh, yes,"
said Gee-Whizz.
"I have go-
bographs of all
the characters
in my pocket.
I shall use them
in my new book,
which I intend
to call 'Doo-
daddles."' Here
he drew some
pictures from
his pocket and
passed them
over to Johnny.
The gentle Oo-
dle held his at-
tention longest
because of her
THE GAY GAMBOODLE.
sad fate, her no-
table lack of arms, and the pathetic expression
of her eyes. As Johnny handed the pictures
back, the Great Gee-Whizz suddenly pointed
to a high hill that just then appeared before
them, down which Johnny saw swarms of ink-
goblins coming to meet them.


422


[MAR'.






JOHNNY IN GOBOLINK LAND.


You call your book' Doo-daddles' ? What
a funny name! "said Johnny. "And what
are doo-daddles ? "
Oh, they are really only daddies, but we
call them doo-daddles because almost anybody
can do them. But we are now," said the Gee
Whizz, "on the border of Gobolink land; and
those are the
Noodle-inks.
They are a quiet,
inoffensive peo-
ple;, and if it
were not for the
fierce Impoodle
that lies in wait
forstragglers,and
a band of Rob-
bolinks that now
and then make
a raid on them
for boodle -
which is our
regular Gobolink
word for wealth
their happi-
ness Would be
unalloyed."
THE GENTLE OODLE. They had by
this time reached
the Noodle advance guards, who flocked around
them, all eager to get near the little boy.
Johnny recognized
the Great Kioodle, who
seemed to be an officer
of rank, as well as his
brother, who was only
of rank and file. But
the Gee-Whizz was hur-
rying Johnny over the
hill-top.
"I must take you
at once to the Great
Shampoodle," said he.
-. He governs the land
S of Noodle. After that
introduction you can go
THE THIN CATHOODLE. about pretty much as
you please. Only be careful. to avoid the Im-
poodle and the Robbolinks."
Johnny's fear had long since departed, and


THE GREAT SHAM-
POODLE.


FIERCE IMPOODLE.


he was enjoying everything immensely. He
was very much interested just now in studying
the queer houses and streets as they swept over
them, and the great palace of the Shampoodle
that was looming up just ahead. The streets

























THE ROBBOLINK CHIEF.
below seemed full of people and queer animals
and fowls. Suddenly, just as they landed on
the steps of the palace, there was a wild cry


423






JOHNNY IN GOBOLINK LAND.


and a sudden uproar. The Great Gee-Whizz
grasped the little boy's arm very tightly.
"The Robbolinks! he shrieked; and now for
the first time Johnny saw his face, which was
pale with fear. You must fly at once. Here!
this way-quick!"
A medley of wild shouts filled Johnny's ears.
A troop of Noodolinks, headed by the great
Kioodle, rushed by at full speed. A flock of
queer geese ran hissing and squawking past.
Johnny felt himself lifted bodily by the Great
Gee-Whizz, and a second later he was dropped
into what looked like a big bicycle tire. There
was a rush of air, a roaring sound, a long slide,
and a flash of light, and Johnny was suddenly sit-
ting bolt upright again in his bed, with the morn-
ing sun shining in at the east window where he
had seen the moon but a few hours before.
He rubbed his eyes, and felt himself to make
sure that he was all there. My he said at
last, "but that was a narrow escape, I fell you.


I wonder what became of the Great Gee-Whizz.
He sent me back with 'a ca-flappety-boodle-
sizz!' sure enough!'"
He reflected for some moments over the
strange adventures of the night.


A FLOCK OF GEESE FROM GOBOLINK LAND.
"Anyhow," he said, "I '11 have some pic-
tures to show him next time he comes, and
some poetry too--you see if I don't."


A FORTUNE.


ONE day a man was walking along the
street, and he was sad at heart. Business was
dull. He had set his desire upon a horse that
cost a thousand dollars, and he had only eight
hundred with which to buy it. There were other
things, to be sure, that might be bought with
eight hundred dollars, but he did not want
those; so he was sorrowful, and thought the
world a bad place.
As he walked, he saw a child running toward
him. It was a strange child; but when he
looked at it, its face lightened like sunshine
and broke into smiles. The child held out its
closed hand.
Guess what I have! it cried gleefully.
"Something fine, I am sure," said the man
pleasantly.
The child nodded and drew nearer, then
opened its hand.
Look!" it said; and the street rang with
its happy laughter.


The man looked, and in the child's hand
lay a penny.
Hurrah! said the child.
"Hurrah! said the man.
Then they parted, and the child went and
bought a stick of candy, and saw all the world
red and white in stripes.
The man went and put his eight hundred
dollars in the savings-bank, all but fifty cents;
and with the fifty cents he bought a brown
hobbyhorse with white spots for his own little
boy; and the little boy saw all the world brown
with white spots.
"Is this the horse you wanted so to buy,
father ? asked the little boy.
"It is the horse I have bought," said the
man.
Hurrah! said the little boy.
"Hurrah! said the man.
And he saw that the world was a good place,
after all. L. E. 2?.


424













THE TRUE STORY OF MARCO POLO.


BY NOAH BROOKS.


[This story was begun in the June number.]

CHAPTER XVII.

THE POLO BROTHERS INTRODUCE WESTERN
SIEGE ARTILLERY.

F FTER Marco had visi-
ted Yunnan, he made
an excursion into Bur-
mah and Bengal. Re-
Sturning to Cathay, he
next describes some of
cr, the cities of the south-
S ern part of that Em-
pire, and proceeds to
relate a curious circumstance connected with
the capture of the city of Saianfu, or Siang-
yang-fu, as it is now called, one of the cities
of Manzi, the province lying south of the Yel-
low River. He says:

Now you must know that this city held out against
the Great Khan for three years after the rest of Manzi
had surrendered. The Great Khan's troops made in-
cessant attempts to take it, but they could not succeed
because of the great and deep waters that were round
about it, so that they could approach from one side only,
which was the north. And I tell you they never would
have taken it, but for a circumstance that I am going to
relate.
You must know that when the Great Khan's host had
lain three years before the city without being able to
take it, they were greatly chafed threat. Then Messer
Nicolo Polo and Messer Maffeo and Messer Marco said:
" We could find you a way of forcing the city to surrender
speedily"; whereupon those of the army replied, that
they would be right glad to know how that should be.
All this talk took place in the presence of the Great
Khan. For messengers had been despatched from the
camp to tell him that there was no taking the city by
blockade, for it continually received supplies of victual
from those sides which they were unable to invest: and
the Great Khan had sent back word that take it they
must, and find a way how. Then spoke up the two
brothers and Messer Marco, the son, and said: "Great
Prince, we have with us among our followers men who
are able to construct mangonels which shall cast such
VOL. XXIV.-54. 4!


great stones that the garrison will never be able to stand
them, but will surrender at once, as soon as the man-
gonels or trebuchets shall have shot into the town."
The Khan bade them with all his heart have such
mangonels made as speedily as possible. Now, Messer
Nicolo and his brother and his son immediately caused
timber to be brought, as much as they desired, and fit
for the work in hand. And they had two men among
their followers, a German and a Nestorian Christian,
who were masters of that business, and these they di-
rected to construct two or three mangonels capable of
casting stones of 3oo-pounds weight. Accordingly they
made three fine mangonels, each of which cast stones
of 3oo-pounds weight and more. And when they were
complete and ready for use, the Emperor and the others
were greatly pleased to see them, and caused several
stones to be shot in their presence; whereat they mar-
veled greatly and greatly praised the work. And the
Khan ordered that the engines should be carried to his
army which was at the leaguer of Saianfu.
And when the engines were got to the camp they
were forthwith set up, to the great admiration of the
Tartars. And what shall I tell you? When the en-
gines were set up and put in gear, a stone was shot from
each of them into the town. These took effect among
the buildings, crashing and smashing through every
thing with huge din and commotion. And when the
townspeople witnessed this new and strange visitation
they were so astonished and dismayed that they wist not
what to do or say. They took counsel together, but no
counsel could be suggested how to escape from these
engines, for the thing seemed to them to be done by sor-
cery. They declared that they were all dead men if they
yielded not, so they determined to surrender on such
conditions as they could get.
So the men of the city surrendered, and were received
to terms; and this all came about through the exertions
of Messer Nicolo and Messer Maffeo and Messer
Marco; and it was no small matter. For this city and
province is one of the best that the Great Khan pos-
sesses, and brings him in great revenues.

There is some uncertainty about the story, as
here told by Marco, for it is related in history
that the city was reduced at a period earlier
than the time of the visit of the Polos; but it
is possible that there has been a mistake made
in the dates, as recorded by the Chinese histo-
rians. But, in any case, the employment of






THE TRUE STORY OF MARCO POLO.


novel engines of war, by the advice of strangers
from the West, was an actual fact; all histo-
ries agree as to that. A mangonel was an
engine of timber designed to throw great stones
a long distance with terrific force, exactly as
described by Marco. In those ancient tir:.:3,
before the invention of gunpowder, it was cus-
tomary to use these, and also arblasts, or bows
of steel or horn, so tough and strong that the
string had to be drawn back to the trigger by a
lever, or a winch. Another contrivance for
throwing bolts and stones was the catapult, and
another was the ballista. It is related that


pass and repass on its waters a great number of vessels,
and more wealth and merchandize than on all the rivers
and all the seas of Christendom put together! It seems
indeed more like a Sea than a River. Messer Marco
Polo said that he once beheld at that city 15,000 vessels
at one time. And you may judge, if this city, of no great
size, has such a number, how many must there be alto-
gether, considering that on the banks of this river there
are more than sixteen provinces and more than 200 great
cities, besides towns and villages, all possessing vessels ?
Messer Marco Polo aforesaid tells us that he heard
from the officer employed to collect the Great Khan's
duties on this river that there passed upstream 200,000
vessels in the year, without counting those that passed
down! Indeed as it has a course of such great length,


CATAPULTS, MANGONELS, AND OTHER ANCIENT MACHINES FOR THROWING STONES, ARROWS, AND VARIOUS MISSILES.
FROM ILLUSTRATIONS IN MARCO POLO'S BOOK.


burning stuff to corrupt the air was sometimes
thrown into a city by the besiegers who used
these machines. The machines used by the
Saracens were called trebuchets; and that is a
name sometimes applied to the mangonel.
The Yang-tse-Kiang rivei aroused the admi-
ration of Marco, and he devotes much space to
an account of its vastness and the volume of its
commerce. The Chinese name for the stream
is Son of the Ocean," so great is its depth and
width. Of it the traveler says:
And I assure you this river flows so far and traverses
so many countries and cities that in good sooth there


and receives so many other navigable rivers, it is no
wonder that the merchandize which is borne on it is of
vast amount and value. And the article in largest quan-
tity of all is salt, which is carried by this river and its
branches to all the cities on their banks, and thence to
the other cities in the interior.
The vessels which ply on this river are decked. They
have but one mast, but they are of great burthen, for I
can assure you they carry, reckoning by our weight, from
4000 to 12,000 cantars each. In going upstream they
have to be hauled, for the current is so strong that they
could not make head in any other manner. Now the
tow-line, which is some 300 paces in length, is made of
nothing but cane. 'T is in this way : they have those great
canes of which I told you before that they are some fif-
teen paces in length; these they take and split from end


426


A?


d


Z






THE TRUE STORY OF MARCO POLO.


CHAPTER XVIII.

AMONG THE ISLES OF INDIA.

WE have already said that the first accounts
ever written of the countries lying to the south
1 and east of China were the work of Marco
Polo. It should not be understood that he
r- visited all the islands of the Indian archipelago,
but from others he learned what he has set
down in his book concerning those regions of
the world, then unknown to Europe except by
Very vague and misty report. And, considering
that the information which he acquired is given
us at second hand, it must be admitted that
very few mistakes have been made in his narra-
tive. Marco introduces his account of the isles


GOLD ISLAND.
to end into many slender strips, and then they twist
these strips together so as to make a rope of any length
they please. And the ropes so made are stronger than
if they were made of hemp.
There are at many places on this river hills and rocky
eminences on which the idol-monasteries and other edi-
fices are built; and you find on its shores a constant
succession of villages and inhabited places.
There is very little exaggeration in this ac-
count. By twelve thousand cantars we should
understand that the traveler refers to a weight
equal to a little more than five hundred tons,
which is a large cargo. The "idol-monasteries"
of Marco Polo still stand on the rocky islets of
the Yang-tse-Kiang; they are Buddhist monas-
teries and are known as Orphan Rock, Golden
Island, and Silver Island. And they are very
picturesque features of the river scenery.


SILVER ISLAND.


-AN ISLAND M Y.


AN ISLAND MONASTERY.


of India with a description of Chinese sea-going
vessels, which we shall not repeat.
The ships of the Great Khan were better for
navigation in distant seas than those of Europe
were in Marco's time. They were better than
the vessels with which Columbus crossed the
Atlantic and discovered the coast of America.
But the Chinese have made no progress since
that day. They build their junks, as they are
called, just as they did one thousand years
ago. Still, it is to be noted that the Mongols,
or Chinese, invented and used water-tight com-


427






THE TRUE STORY OF MARCO POLO.


apartments in ships; and our modern ship-build-
ers have copied the Chinese in this respect, at
least, even although the Chinese have not in-
vented anything of importance to mariners
since then.
Now let us see what Marco has to say about
Japan; for that is the country which he names
Chipangu, and which was variously known af-
terward in those days of spelling by sound, as
Cipango, Zipangu, and Zumpango.
Marco is describing to us the countries sub-
ject to the Great Khan; and Cipango was in-
teresting to him for the reason that Kublai
Khan had lately sent an expedition against it.
He says:
CHIPANGU is an Island towards the east in the high
seas, 1500 miles distant from the Continent; and a very
great Island it is.
The people are white, civilized, and well-favored.
They are Idolaters, and are dependent on nobody. And
I can tell you the quantity of gold they have is endless;
for they find it in their own Islands, and the King does
not allow it to be exported. Moreover, few merchants
visit this country because it is so far from the main land,
and thus it comes to pass that their gold is abundant
beyond all measure.
I will tell you a wonderful thing about the Palace of
the Lord of that Island. You must know that he hath
a great Palace which is entirely roofed with fine gold,
just as our churches are roofed with lead, insomuch that
it would scarcely be possible to estimate its value. More*
over, all the pavement of the Palace, and the floors of
the chambers are entirely of gold, in plates like slabs of
stone, a good two-fingers thick; and the windows also
are of gold, so that altogether the richness of this Palace
is past all bounds and all belief.
They have also pearls in abundance; which are of a
rose color, but fine, big, and round, and quite as valuable
as the white ones. In this Island some of the dead are
buried, and others are burnt. When a body is burnt,
they put one of these pearls in the mouth, for such is
their custom. They have also quantities of other pre-
cious stones.
Kublai, the Grand Khan who now reigneth, having
heard much of the immense wealth that was in this Isl-
and, formed a plan to get possession of it. For this pur-
pose he sent two of his Barons with a great navy, and
a great force of horse and foot. These Barons were able
and valiant men, one of them called ABACAN and the
other VONSAINCHIN, and they weighed with all their
company from the ports of Zayton and Kinsay, and put
out to sea.
They sailed until they reached the Island aforesaid,
and there they landed, and occupied the open country
and the villages, but did not succeed in getting posses-
sion of any city or castle. And so a disaster befell them,
as I shall now relate.


It was this part of Marco's story that was
greatly disbelieved in Europe when he returned
to tell of the wonders he had seen in the far
East. Possibly his account of the marvelous
adventures of Khan's generals in Cipango threw
doubt on his whole story. The expedition was
a failure, and it is likely that each of the leaders
attempted to put the blame upon the other;
the result was a long and curious tale of ad-
venture which, although you may some day
like to read it for yourselves, need not be told
here.
But the marvels of the fabled island of Ci-
pango took strong hold of the European ima-
gination, after a while. As we have already
said, Columbus expected to reach India and
Cathay by sailing westward, and one of the


THE THREE ASIATIC RHINOCEROSES. INDIAN (UPPER) SUMA-
TRAN (LOWER) JAVANESE (MIDDLE).

objects of his search was the rich island of Ci-
pango.
When he happened on those islands which
he called mistakenly the West Indies, he was
afraid that he had missed Cipango, and he asked
the natives where the land of gold (Cipango)
was situated; when they pointed to the south,
he made up his mind that he had sailed by the
northern point of Cipango and had fallen upon


[MAR.






THE TRUE STORY OF MARCO POLO.


one of the Indian islands. Later on, in 1498,
after the discovery of America, John Cabot and
his son Sebastian sailed on an expedition into
the west, and they too were searching for the
wealthy island of Cipango, which of course
they never found.
Marco gives glowing accounts of the great
maritime cities of Kinsay and Zayton, on the
eastern and southeastern coast of China. The
modern name of Kinsay is Hangchau, and it
was in Marco's time a port of the very first im-
portance. It is the capital of Chinkiang. Zay-
ton was the port from which the Khan's fleets
sailed for the capture of Japan, and from that
port also sailed Marco Polo and his father and
uncle on their final return to Europe, when
they took with them the bride of the Persian
Khan. Zayton was what is now known as
Chinchau, or Tsienchau, south from Hang-
chau. The city was famous, among other'
things, for a peculiar, rich, and glossy silk
which got its name, satin, from a change of the
name of the city Zayton, or Zaituni, where it
was made and exported. In the same way
calico takes its name from the Indian' city,
Calicut, and cambric from Cambrai. Kinsay
and Zayton were also objects of Columbus's
search on his first and second voyages.
Another region in the eastern archipelago
noted by Marco is Cochin China, which he
calls Chamba. Cochin China was conquered
by the Great Khan, and Marco visited the
country in 1285, he says. At that time, ac-
cording to Marco Polo, the King had a great
many wives; and he also had, "between sons
and daughters, 326 children, of whom at least
150 were men fit to carry arms." Of the pro-
ductions of the country he says:
There are very great numbers of elephants in this
kingdom, and they have lignaloes in great abundance.
They have also extensive forests of the wood called
Bonzs, which is jet-black, and of which chessmen and
pen-cases are made.

Elephants are still very numerous in Cochin
China; and ebony, the jet-black wood of which


Marco speaks, is also brought from there.
We are to understand that lignaloes is the
antique name for aloes-wood--a vegetable
product from which is prepared the drug
known in medicine as aloes.
The other countries of which Marco speaks
are Java, of which he gives a very meager ac-
count; Sumatra, which he calls "Java the
Less," and divers other islands, which are diffi-
cult now for us to identify on the modern
map. Concerning the strange things he saw
in Sumatra, Marco says:

This also is an independent kingdom, and the people
have a language of their own; but they are just like
beasts, without laws or religion. They call themselves
subjects of the Great Khan, but they pay him no tribute;
indeed they are so far away that his men could not go
thither. Still all these Islanders declare themselves tobe
his subjects, and sometimes they send him curiosities as
presents. There are wild elephants in the country, and
numerous unicorns, which are very nearly as big. They
have hair like that of a buffalo, feet like those of an ele-
phant, and a horn in the middle of the forehead, which is
black and very'thick. They do no mischief, however, with
the horn, but with the tongue alone; for this is covered
all over with long aiid strong prickles, and when savage
with any one they crush him under their knees and then
rasp him with their tongue. The head resembles that,
of a wild boar, and they carry it ever bent toward the
ground. They delight much to abide in mire and mud.
'T is a passing ugly beast to look upon. There are also
monkeys here in great numbers and of sundry kinds;
and goshawks as black as crows. These are very large
birds and capital for fowling.

Marco confounds the rhinoceros with the
fabulous unicorn, as many other writers of the
olden time have done. The unicorn, which
was represented as "fighting for the crown"
with the lion, was something like the horse with
a single horn in his forehead. There was no
such creature; but the rhinoceros, then very
little known, was mistaken for the unicorn. But
the Sumatra rhinoceros usually has two horns;
it is the Indian beast of this family that has but
one horn. If Marco Polo had with his own
eyes seen the so-called unicorn of Sumatra, he
doubtless would have been very much puzzled.


(To be continued.)


429










A CENTURY OF PRESIDENTS.
(A Prize Puzzle.)

By MARY SEYMOUR.


As a great many readers of ST. NICHOLAS
cannot attend the inauguration ceremonies in
Washington on March 4, I propose that we
have a presidential pageant all to ourselves,
and such a one as our beautiful capital has
never seen. For I promise that there shall be,
not the usual meager supply of two Presidents,
one outgoing and one incoming, but a whole
century full, and with them a goodly number
of men who, as their cabinet advisers, have
helped to guide our ship of state. There will
be no order observed in our procession; in fact,
the arrangement will be somewhat as it may
happen; but the queerest thing about the pro-
cession will be that the time it will occupy in
passing any given point will depend on the
quickness of the lookers-on.
We secure the best possible point of view,
and await the approach with a thrill of antici-
pation. There, in the carriage drawn by dap-
ple-grays, are the self-styled "Old Public Func-
tionary" (i) and the man said to be the author
(2) of the expression so often quoted in part,
" They see nothing wrong in the rule that to the
victors belong the spoils of the enemy." And
there are the President (3) who received the
famous "X. Y. Z. despatches" and the Hero
of the Tarontee" (4). The man (5) who said,
" A pound of pluck is worth a ton of luck," is by
the side of the noble-minded statesman (6) who,
after leaving the cabinet, declined an advanta-
geous offer from a foreign financier, saying, "A
man who has had the direction of the finances of
his country so long as I have, should not die rich."
Do you know that President (7) now passing
is the one for whose election mass-meetings
and political processions were first brought into
campaign use ? As we look at the man beside
him, we are reminded that Emerson described
him as the Master of Elegance (8).
The weighty and absorbing questions of cur-
rency and finance are still fresh in our minds as


we see the President (9) in whose administra-
tion specie payments were resumed after the
Civil War, the Secretary (o1) who issued the
currency called "greenbacks," and the Chief
Executive (I ) who announced with satisfaction
in his last annual message that "the country
was without a national bank and without a
permanent national debt." Seated by the lat-
ter is the President of the United States (12)
who became a member of the Confederate
States Congress.
We look for a moment at the only Chief
Magistrate (13), since Washington, who was
elected a second time virtually without an op-
posing candidate. His companion is the soldier
(14) who, at the head of the Mississippi Rifles,
led his famous "V" movement at the battle
of Buena Vista.
We remember that questions about lands
and boundaries have ever been matters for
wise statesmen, as we recall the time when our
able and many-sided President (15) more than
doubled the territory of the United States, and
when a certain Secretary of State (16) arranged
the purchase of Alaska. And it was while
that scholarly Naval Secretary (17) was in
office that our government made the treaty
that quieted the war-cry, "Fifty-four forty, or
fight! A resolute man in war and in peace
was that President (18) who was counseled by
the Kitchen Cabinet."
We wave a salute to the Cincinnatus of the
West" (19) and to the Chief Magistrate (20)
during whose campaign was first used a politi-
cal nickname, meaning chief," taken from the
extinct Massachusetts Indian language as found
in Eliot's Bible. Behind those curveting bays
you see the first "dark horse" (21) elected to
the Presidency, and the man (22) who served
seventeen years in Congress after leaving the
White House. There come the Secretary (23)
who negotiated the first treaty between the






A CENTURY OF PRESIDENTS.


United States and China, and the doughty gen-
eral (24) who, in a well-fought battle, gave the
characteristic order, "A little more grape, Cap-
tain Bragg !"
. Lowell said of the man (25) to whom we
now turn our eyes, "He cannot let go the
apron-string of the Past." He is with the last
Chief Magistrate (26) belonging to the great
Whig party. And now we see the President
(27) who set in operation the civil-service re-
form act, and the one (28) who was privileged
to have his life written for his campaign by the
author of The Wonder Book."
We look intently at the statesman (29) whom
Sydney Smith called a living lie, because no
man on earth could be so great as he looked,"
and our eyes linger on "the kindly-earnest,
brave, foreseeing man the First Amer-
ican" (30). It was high praise that Bancroft
bestowed on that able leader (31) when he re-
ferred to him as the wisest civilian of Vir-
ginia." The author and orator (32) by his side
received only the seven electoral votes of Ver-
mont when nominated for the Presidency by the
Anti-Masonic party.
The next carriage in line brings the President
(33) who took the oath of office in his rooms at


the Kirkwood House in Washington, and the
friend (34) of Lafayette against whom, as a
cabinet official, false charges were made in the
House of Representatives the movement be-
ing known as the "A. B. Plot." Though we
cannot hear his matchless voice, we see the face
of the statesman (35) who named the protec-
tive-tariff policy the American System," and
with him we hail the President (36) in whose
administration Oklahoma, the last new Terri-
tory, was created.
Both of the men who bring up the rear of
the remarkable procession had military expe-
rience. One (37) directed a telling fire on the
city of Mexico from a gun placed in the steeple
of a village church; and the other (38) once
commanded a company of minute-men of
whom John Randolph said, They were raised
in a minute, armed in a minute, marched in a
minute, fought in a minute, and vanquished in
a minute! That energetic youth became the
profound jurist whose decisions best interpreted
and greatly strengthened the Constitution un-
der which we live.
The fanciful parade is over. As we turn
from it, let us look with clearer sight at the men
and things of to-day.


LIST OF PRIZES OFFERED FOR ANSWERS TO THE PRIZE PUZZLE
"A CENTURY OF PRESIDENTS."

FOR the best answers to the Presidential puzzle on page 430, according to the conditions of the competition,
ST. NICHOLAS offers the following prizes:
One prize of Five Dollars.
Two prizes of Four Dollars each.
Five prizes of Three Dollars each.
Ten prizes of Two Dollars each.
Twelve prizes of One Dollar each.
These, amounting to sixty dollars, will be given in the form of brand-new one-dollar bills. Directions for pre-
paring and forwarding answers are given below. The competition is open to all regular readers of ST. NICHOLAS
from the age of ten to the age of eighteen years inclusive.
The Committee of Judges in awarding prizes will take into account not only the correctness of the answers, but
the age of the sender and the neatness of the manuscript. All answers must be received at the office of ST. NICH-
OLAS before April 15, 1897, and no competitor may send more than one copy.
Do not write letters or notes that require a reply, as the Editor cannot undertake to answer questions concern-
ing the competition. The conditions are fully stated here.
Each number represents a question to be answered by the name of a man of distinction in the history of the
United States. Arrange the answers in the order of the questions, and number them on the left-hand margin.
Give your name, age, and address at the top of each page of the answers, leaving space enough above to fasten
the pages together. Use sheets of note-paper size, and black ink, and write on only one side of the paper.
Address: Office of ST. NICHOLAS,
Union Square, New York City;
And write in left-hand lower corner of the envelop Prize Puzzle."















0


, ,xjsij j


__ i' -k "I '
',.

'A.



,ii ,


* 'p/a
',(


.. '

/ '2.


By GRACE WINTHROP.

MY little love and I,-
All in the winter weather,-
Though winds may sob and sigh,
Yet we are glad together,
My little love and I.

Beside the fire, at home,-
All in the winter weather,-
Through fairyland we roam;
O'er hill and dale and heather,
And ocean's flying foam.

And there, within a wood,-
All in the winter weather,-


;,fl~


kbA


1&1p






ALL IN THE WINTER WEATHER. 433
We meet Red Riding Hood .
And cruel Wolf together-- J4.- -
The evil and the good., .f

Oh, joy, to find anew,-- .
., All in the winter wea-
ther,- wI/a
Sweet Cinder-
ella's shoe- ,i
Clear glass:
No com-
mon leather
For /Zer would
ever do.

Soft up the stairs we steal,-
All in the winter weather,-
To where, beside her wheel,
The Princess sleeps. Together
p Her dreamy spell we feel.

Kind Beauty and her Beast,-
All in the winter weather,-
)\ Invite us to a feast.
)) I When, lo! in hat and feather,
A.' He bows, a prince, at' least.
j When Bluebeard, fierce and glum,-
All in the winter weather,-
And Giant's fee, fo, fum"
Draw near, then close together
We cling, as
Si: near they
.m,,,,fll dii i l, ii com e.


Xk.


VOL XXIV.- 55.






434 ALL IN THE WINTER WEATHER. [MAR.

And Pussy wise we meet,- And so my love and I,-
All in the winter weather,- All in the winter weather,-
We marvel at his neat, Though cold and dark the sky,
Fine boots, and wonder whether Still we are glad together,
They 'd fit our tabby's feet. My little love and I.






















REPORT UPON THE PRIZE PUZZLE "A THANKSGIVING-

DAY PROBLEM."

A GREAT many solutions were received to the Thanksgiving-day Problem," and it is pleasant to state that
in no previous competition has the standard of excellence been so high. Besides the prize-winning answers,
there were very many with only one or two mistakes. All competitors seem to have found both pleasure and
profit in hunting for the correct answers, and to have entered upon the work in the same spirit as the contestant
who wrote: I wish good luck to all, and much happiness to the prize-winners."
Several solvers forwarded answers tastefully decorated with various devices suggesting the Puritans and the
Thanksgiving season.
The sixteenth question was a difficult one to answer with accuracy. That a certain Captain Wadsworth hid the
Connecticut charter in the famous "Charter Oak of Hartford seems well established, but his Christian name
is shrouded in mystery. James "and Joseph" and William" were given on excellent authorities. Later,
" Jeremiah and Peleg Wadsworth put in a plea for recognition in connection with this famous event, but after
due consideration they were ruled out. It seems probable that, if more time had been allowed, other members of
this large and interesting family of boys might have been discovered. Bancroft, in his History of the United
States" (Vol. I, page 588), says:
"Tradition loves to relate that the charter lay on the table; that of a sudden the lights were extinguished, and,
when they were rekindled, the charter had disappeared. It is certain that 'in this very troublesome season, when
the Constitution of Connecticut was struck at, Captain Joseph Wadsworth, of Hartford, rendered fruitful and good
service in securing the duplicate charter of the colony, and safely keeping and preserving the sam -' f-- nearly
eight-and-twenty years."
The question that proved the most puzzling was number eighteen. The author of the puzzle quotes as author-
ity Vol. I, page 158, of "The Cyclopedia of United States History," by Benson J. Lossing, LL. D. Writing of
William Brewster, he says: He took with him to the wilderness his wife and numerous, children. It was upon
the lid of his chest that the political compact was signed on board the Mayflower.'" (>ne enterprising competitor,
Miss Sally F. Dawes, wrote as follows concerning this question: "Number eighteen was the hardest, but at last I
found the answer in the' Genealogy of the White Family.' It reads as follows: pfore they found a place to land
and settle, those men of justice and sense, Carver, Bradford, White, Brewster, ad- Winslow, drew up, on the lid of
Elder Brewster's chest, in the cabin of the Mayflower," an instrument which established the principle of individual
liberty as a right which has influenced the destiny of man.' "






REPORT UPON THE PRIZE PUZZLE.


435


Letters from several friendly correspondents, however, have convinced the Committee that there is grave doubt
whether the Mayflower Compact was signed on the lid of any chest, and whether, if it were so signed, the chest
belonged to Brewster, Carver, Winslow, Winthrop, or another.
In justice, therefore, to all contestants, the Committee in awarding prizes have not considered any reasonable
answer to question No. 18 an error- a course that has not affected the standing of any prize-winner, since all the
best lists agreed in assigning the chest to Elder Brewster or John Carver.
Many facts in the early history of our country are not clearly established, and often reputable historians differ.
It was inevitable, therefore, that some of our correspondents should question certain of the facts stated. But the
author of the puzzle has cited good authority for each answer, and the following list is believed to be correct.


I. George Berkeley, Bishop of Cloyne, Ireland.
2. Rev. Jonathan Edwards.
3. John Eliot.
4. Captain John Smith.
5. Captain William (or Robert) Kidd.
6. Robert Cavelier, Sieur de la Salle.
7. PBre (or Father) Jacques (or James) Marquette
(and Joliet, his companion).
8. Captain Henry (Hendrik or Heinrich) Hudson.
9. Rev. Cotton Mather.
Io. Virginia Dare.
11. Gov. Peter (or Petrus) Stuyvesant (Peter the
Headstrong, or Testy).
12. Sir Henry (or Harry) Vane the Younger.
13. Gen. James Edward Oglethorpe of Georgia.
14. Sir Edmund Andros.
15. John Rolfe.
16. Captain William (or James or Joseph) Wadsworth.
17. Rev.George Whitefield.


18. Elder William Brewster (according to tradition).
19. Nathaniel Bacon.
20. Mrs. Mary Dyer (or Dyar).
21. Gov. William Bradford.
22. Giles Corey (or Cory).
23. Mrs. Anne Marbury Hutchinson.
24. Pocahontas (or Ma-ta-oka).
25. John Alden.
26. Captain Miles (or Myles) Standish.
27. Rev. John Harvard.
28. Massasoit.
29. Samuel de Champlain.
30. Sir George Calvert (or Cecil Calvert), Lord Balti-
more. The grant was promised to one, and made to the
other.
31. William Penn.
32. Rev. John Davenport.
33. Sir William Berkeley.
34. Elihu Yale.
35. Roger Williams.


LIST OF PRIZE-WINNERS.
(The figures after each name give the prize-winner's age.)
First Prize, Five Dollars: Clara Louise Green, 17.
Two Second Prizes, of Four Dollars each: Fannie Pitkin, 12; Henry Guy Carleton, II.
Five Third Prizes, of Three Dollars each: Marion R. Fenno, 12; Rachel Phipps, Io; Janet Dana, Io; Edward
Eagle Brown, Ii; James J. Forstall, 14.
Ten Prizes, of Two Dollars each: Alice L. Perry, 12; Walter F. Furman, Io; Louise McDonald; Cornelia
Williams, 12; Helen M. Stott, 13; James L. P6quignot, 17; Lucy A. Mailing, 13; Harry B. Gifford, 13; Susan
Whitman Smith, 13; Harold W. Bynner, 15.
Seventeen Prizes, of One Dollar each: Ruth M. Soule, 16; Charles Dana Harmon, 13; H. S. Whittemore, 15;
Lucretia de Schweinitz, 16; Beth B. Gilchrist, 17; Margaret W. Stone, 16; Grace W. Goodwin, 13; Harry
Dowling, 16; Abbot A. Thayer, 14; Elizabeth S. Sergeant, 15; Grace C. Norton, in; Nellie Van Volkenburgh,
14; Lucia K. Dwight, 13; Helen E. Allis, 14; T. K. Wellington, 15; Bessie Bush, 13; Edward B. Wight, 11.

ROLL OF HONOR.

Lauren S. Fish, Edwin Balmer, Elsa Behr, Clara C. Mendenhall, Alice Evelyn Ozias, Richard R. Stanwood,
Dudley B. Purington, Mabel Hancock, Mary Margaret Hanna, Charles Jarvis Harriman, Louise K. Ames, Dorothy
Maris.
Henry M. Hathaway, Frances Eleanor Mason, Isabel Adair Lynde, George Roberts, Jr., Margaret Ropes,
Hazel R. Hyde, Laurence R. Clapp, Suzette K. Grundy, Henry Girard Hollon, Katharine S. Doty, Mary R. Cecil,
Ellie S. Gladding, Alex. Macomber, Theo. McC. Marsh, Ruth E. Richardson, Kenneth White, Ruth Mitchell, Mar-
garet Lantz, Marion M. Vaughan, Hubert Birchby, AllettaV. Dodd, Marshall Coxe, Gertrude Byrne, William Alex-
ander Childs, Mansfield Ferry, Clara Munyan Lathrop, Francis R. Appleton, Jr., Alathea Mountsier, Marion
Miller, Margaret K. Stevens, Francis A. Joy, Olive Oburn, Emma Jennette Pratt, Charles S. Hanna, Bertha H.
Lippincott, Marshall P. Cram, Katherine Stubbs, Martha Packard, Helen E. Searle, Mary Guest Smith, Deane Ed-
wards, Frances C. Boardman, Katharine S. Craven, Joseph B. Eastman, Waldine Scratchley, Joseph V. Sloan,
Ray Seaman, Marie L. Slack, Sam C. Welling, Robert C. Crowell, John Lawton, Donald A. Dunham, Helen A.







REPORT UPON THE PRIZE PUZZLE.


[MAR.


Boynton, Stanley C. Burton, Gladys Smith, Sarah Edmunds Bradford, Margaret Augur, Edward L. Lyon, Ellen
B. Townsend, Bernice L. Wing, Fred W. Shear, Homer M. Clark, Mitchell Wilby, Edmund C. Johnston, Helen
Emerson Childs, Arthur Bell, Elizabeth R. Bleecker.


One correspondent writes: "I have been studying
colonial history at school, but while working on your
puzzle I found out that there was yet a great deal to
learn."

Another writes: "I never knew before that so many
people had written about the early history of this coun-
try."

Still another says: "I used five different histories of
the United States in looking up my answers. I
hope you will continue to publish these prize puzzles, as
one has fun in trying to answer them, besides the chance
of getting a prize. Of course I hope to get a prize, but
if I don't I shall not find fault."

A little girl in the West writes : "We live on a farm,
twenty miles from a railroad station, in a newly opened
Indian reservation. There are, of course, no public
libraries within reach, and we have but few books of
reference."

A father writes: Your Thanksgiving-day Problem'
has aroused much enthusiasm for the study of colonial his-
tory in my little boy. He has worked most persistently,
earnestly, and honestly to find all the answers."

A Massachusetts boy writes: "I have had a real good
time looking up the answers, and feel sure of all except-
ing two--18 and 34."

A Philadelphia boy says: I suppose you will have a
good bit of work to do, since there is so much compe-
tition; but I 've worked a good deal myself over this
puzzle."


And a New Jersey girl says: Although there are five
answers I cannot get, I want you to see that I am in-
terested in the problem."
SCRANTON, PA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I think ST. NICHOLAS deserves
thanks of parents and those interested in young people
for all the good, wholesome things it supplies, and par-
ticularly for the historical puzzles. Without a prize, the
reward is great in the amount of knowledge gleaned and
interest excited in the search for the answers; and I, for
one, thank you. I think the first number of the new
volume particularly good. With best wishes, I am
Very truly yours, ADA M. PHILLIPS.

OMAHA, NEB.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We seniors are delighted with
your removal of restrictions on assistance. Since no-
blesse oblige, this ST. NICHOLAS girl, as such, would of
course do her work thoroughly and for herself. But it
is pleasant to correspond with Cousin on the Pacific
Coast as to the curiosities of churchyard literature; to
discuss at table the adequacy of five grains of corn for a
Thanksgiving feast; to have Big Brother turning over
stacks of annals taller than himself, and Little Brother
giving assurance that though Bancroft beat no drums
for Captain Wadsworth, thousands of enthusiastic his-
torians do.
Let me repeat, the work is Gracie's own, her family
and friends having assisted in the French sense only.
With perennial love from seniors and juniors for im-
mortal ST. NICHOLAS. M. R. HARRIS.

THE "ST. NICHOLAS girl" won a first prize in the
Fourth of July puzzle contest.


THE LETTER-BOX.


HONOLULU.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: It is from the far-off Sandwich
Islands that I send you my greeting.
We have a lovely place in a valley, which is approached
by a long avenue of Royal palms, and from where we
have a beautiful view toward the mountains. In front
of the house is a lawn, and behind that stretches a long
pasture -the playground for our horses as well as our-
selves. We have a large rambling house, in which I and
my three brothers and sisters were born. Our neigh-
bors are Americans and Germans.
The Germans have three children, one little boy and
two girls, the youngest of whom has long brown curls.
Their parents intend to go to Germany next year, and
as we may go at the same time we shall all travel to-
gether. But before that I shall write you once more.
Hoping to see this letter printed, I remain
Your interested reader, ELSIE S- .


CHERRYVALE, KANSAS.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little boy ten years old.
I have a bicycle and enjoy riding a great deal. I want
to tell your readers how to make an artist" top. It can
be made easily and will make as pretty figures as a
boughten one. Take a cigar-box lid, and with a pair of


dividers mark out a circle about two and three-quarter
inches in diameter. Cut this out and bore a hole in the
center, in which force a short lead-pencil. Place sheet
of white paper on a level surface, and taking the top of
the lead-pencil between the thumb and finger, spin it as
you would a pin-top, or teetotum. The pencil, which
should be a very soft one, will mark the most beautiful
spirals and curves on the paper. I hope some of your
readers will try it.
Your interested reader, WILLIE MITCHELL.

CANTON, MASS.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am going to have some black
decoy ducks in a few weeks. There is a brook running
through our land. As it runs through a ditch, when it
is dammed up it will make a little pond. For my duck-
house I am going to use a dog-house that I have, putting
a window in the back of it.
I live near Blue Hill. Last summer I rode to Blue
Hill on my bicycle, taking my bicycle up the hill and
down, not being able to ride it. I saw a fine view of Bos-
ton Harbor, being a very pleasant day.
I have a brother in Harvard College who is twenty-
one years of age, and he took the ST. NICHOLAS when
he was a little boy. I am very fond of reading, and re-
main your faithful reader, NORMAN B. FRENCH.


436







THE LETTER-BOX.


COLLEGE HILL, CLINTON, N. J.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am eleven years old. I have
two goats, which I drive, and enjoy very much. I
named them "Nancy Hanks and "Martha Washing-
ton." Martha Washington is a very droll goat. The
post to which she is tied is not more than two inches in
diameter. She sometimes puts one of her front feet on
top of this post and views the country; she looks so
wise when she is doing this that Nancy Hanks looks as
if she were smiling at her. I keep the goats in a stall.
Martha jumps up into the manger and sleeps there,
while Nancy sleeps under the manger.
One day when Martha's post was crooked she rubbed
up against it just as if she wanted to straighten it.
Martha can also walk on her hind feet, and when she
is free in the barn and wants an apple she just puts her
front feet on top of the barrel, and puts her head over
into the barrel, and gets one.
Nancy once had a fight with a cow; in so doing she
lost one of her horns. This is all true.
Your interested reader, LLOYD PAUL STRYKER.


A WELL-KNOWN resident of Chicago recently sent
us the following interesting and gratifying letter; and
kindly consented that it should be shown to our readers.

CHICAGO, ILL.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: It was some time in the seven-
ties your files will indicate the year that in looking
around for a Christmas present for a little boy with a
very bright mind, I hit upon the first bound volume of
the ST. NICHOLAS. It was an exceedingly attractive
book, both on account of its illustrations and its reading-
matter. For several years I repeated the gift, partly
for the sake of the person who received it, and partly
because of younger children in the family, to whom the
annual volumes would be instructive and interesting.
Then the magazine came regularly into the household,
and at the end of each year the numbers were carefully
bound and stored away for continued use. This went
on till the elder son went to college.
The first volume of ST. NICHOLAS, you will remember,
contained good many interesting suggestions aboutbirds,
animals, flowers, and other natural objects. The little fel-
low who received this volume as his Christmas gift first
of all exhausted, with the help of the illustrations, the
natural history portion of it, then devoured the rest of
it, then put his scientific information into practice-that
is, became an observer, brought many of his specimens
to his parents, expressed his thoughts about them, com-
pared his ideas with what was said in ST. NICHOLAS,
and in this way, before he himself or any one else was
conscious of the fact, had found the work of his life.
Quite likely, to this day the young man has hardly
thought of the ST. NICHOLAS as having had so decided
an influence in directing his attention to that great field
of study to which he.has now devoted himself. Still, it
may truthfully be said that it was the reading of this
magazine, and talking over its contents with his parents,
which gave him the impulse which he has so steadily
followed.
While in the public schools he came into the posses-
sion of a poor microscope, I think one advertised in the
ST. NICHOLAS, and furnished at a low rate. With this
he did some very good work, and was still further led
into the study of natural objects. But the chief value of
it all was that he had now become an investigator on
his own account, was doing, though without any sus-
picion of it, original work as a scientist. In a few years,
his father, as a prize for a really excellent essay based on
the boy's personal observations, furnished him a first-
class microscope, and fitted up for him and the other


children in the family a room in the house, and encour-
aged them to use it as a workshop, and to invite into it
such comrades as were interested in what it contained,
and in the experiments which were there made. A
description of some of these experiments would make
very attractive reading. Two or three years before his
preparatory course was over, an excellent second-hand
telescope came into our young student's hands. Its use
developed to the fullest extent a love for astronomy,
which had already begun to show itself. This instru-
ment was afterward attached to one of the instruments
belonging to a great university, where, as a private stu-
dent, its owner, outside his regular course of study, rap-
idlybecame master, before his graduation, of all that is
popularly known in astronomical science. He had de-
cided, with the approval of his parents, upon the work
of his life. Upon the observatory which his father fitted
up for him, many thousands of dollars have been ex-
pended, and with the equipment, which only private
means have secured, many remarkable discoveries have
been made. For these discoveries the Astronomical
Society of France has seen fit to honor their author with
its gold medal. Although less than thirty years old, he
is now in charge of one of the most important scientific
departments of a great university, and is in correspon-
dence with many of the leading scientific bodies of the
world, as well as with some of their most distinguished
members. His name is known quite as well in Europe
as in his own country. In fact, the importance of his
discoveries is even better understood abroad than at
home.
Conservative in all his notions, yet enthusiastic and
untiring as an investigator, possessing mechanical ability
of a high order, and well trained as a chemist, it is not
too much to say that few young men in the wide world
have prospects of a more brilliant future. That the
foundations of this scientific career were in part laid by
the work of those who made the ST. NICHOLAS it is
not too much to assert.
Yours very truly, W.


WASHINGTON, D. C.
MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am seven years old, and
I wrote these little verses about my baby sister. I am
one of your little readers.
FRANCES CLEVELAND LAMONT.

BABY.

A little baby has come to town,
The sweetest little sister,
With ltteittle white socks and a little white gown,
And I was the first that kissed her.

She has hazel eyes and brownish hair,
SAnd a dimple in her chin,
Her complexion it is very fair,
And her name is Katharine.


MARIN, SWITZERLAND.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: My home is in Egypt, but I
am an American girl. I am eleven years old. We spent
last summer in Switzerland.
It is a beautiful country, with its lakes, snow moun-
tains, and flowers. When we came, in the end of May,
the ground was covered with little pink-tinted daisies and
forget-me-nots.
One day we walked to the end of a valley, right up
under the Jungfrau, and gathered Alpine roses, gentians,
anemones, and many other flowers. We snow-balled
each other, although it was August; it was great fun.


437







THE LETTER-BOX.


I hope the United States will not choose the columbine
for its national flower; it grows wild here and the people
call it "Fool's-cap." They would laugh at us and say
we were putting on the fool's-cap.
I am in a school now near Neufchftel. I have to
speak French all the time. If I speak a word of Eng-
lish I must pay a fine.
I like you very much. I hope I can have you as long
as I live. I read you to my little brother and sister.
Your loving friend, ETHEL FINNEY.


SAN FRANCISCO, CAL.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have taken you now for two
years, and I enjoy you immensely. I first got acquainted
with you when I was going to Sacramento, the capital of
our State, and to Chico, in Butte County. When I lived
in Japan I took an English magazine; but it is not to be
compared with you.
Two or three weeks ago I went on our new battleship,
the Oregon," and had a beautiful time. She is a won-
derful piece of work. Everything is steel; even the
decks are steel, covered with wood; and the Oregon has
two steel bottoms.
I am very fond of Lieutenant Ellicott's stories that ap-
pear occasionally about our navy, as I am an Army offi-
cer's daughter.
Your true friend and interested reader,
HELEN I. B-.

WAVELAND, MISS.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: The pelican is a favorite bird
down here, and is a great fisherman. It is quite amusing
to watch them sit on the water and eat shrimps. There
is a fish caught here called the flounder and it is white on
one side and brown on the other. Strange to say, the
eyes are on the brown side, for it is a flat and wide fish.
They are caught with a torch and a spear, and at night.
The great enemy of those who go floundering is the
stingaree, as they are liable to step on one.
The grassee or bee-martin is very plentiful down here,
and the people hunt them in great numbers. The par-
tridge is very good eating, and very plentiful in the
woods. While I was out walking once with my father,
a pair flew up right at our feet.
Once a gentleman had a dozen goldfish and put them
in a pond. A kingfisher flying about discovered them,
and had breakfast every morning very freely. One of
the family found it out, and called the owner's attention
to the loss of the fish, and when people pass there now
they can see a wire net over the pond with three lonely
little goldfish in it.
Just before sunset great flocks of swallows come flying
over the water, when it is very calm, toward the west.
Just before sunrise every morning, the sky gets very
red, and looks like a great fire illuminating the sky at
night, and at a great distance.
I remain your interested reader,
HENRY P. DART, Jr.

OAKLAND, CAL.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : We have taken the ST. NICHO-
LAS for twenty-four years -long before I was born. If
any one asks me what day of the month I like best, I
always say the twenty-fifth, not because Christmas comes
on that date, but because ST. NICHOLAS always comes on
that day. Think it is the nicest magazine published;
and I think that many other little girls agree with me.
Last night I came home from.a trip which I want to
describe to you. Mother and I started for Saucelito, a
beautiful village not far from here, on Saturday morning,


and went to a private boarding-house. On Sunday
morning we hired a team, and drove to Point Bonita
lighthouse, about six miles distant from Saucelito. The
lighthouse-keeper was very kind, and showed us all
about the light. When we were in the lighthouse and
had climbed up to the light, he told me to get inside
the lamp. I don't think many little girls have been
inside of a light. He -let me take the cover off of
the wicks. It was so very interesting. On Tuesday
morning we were joined by my grandmother, my aunt,
my father, and a friend, for an excursion up Mount Ta-
malpais, a beautiful mountain in California. There is a
railway up the mountain, which we were all very anxious
to take. When we arrived in Mill Valley, the point
from which the train starts, we found it did not start
till three o'clock. It was then only 12:15, so we had
some time towait. We had brought lunch with us, and
so we took a carriage, and drove out into the hills, till
we came to a little open spot under the trees beside a
little brook. So we had lunch there under the trees;
and it was lovely! and such fun! When it was time, we
drove back again, and took the train to go up the moun-
tains. All open cars, and it was simply magnificent!
I never saw such a view! I only wish that every one
could see it. When we got to the end (it does not go
quite to the top) nearly every one got out to climb to the
top. I did, and I stood on the highest peak -on the
tip-top, and looked all around. Then coming down the
mountain, we saw three deer. It was a beautiful trip,
and I only wish all the boys and girls could take it.
With long life to ST. NICHOLAS, and three cheers
from your everlasting friend and admirer,
EDNA -.

DECORAH, IOWA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: You have been a welcome
visitor in this home ever since you were joined by the
"Wide Awake" subscribers. Although I have no bro-
thers or sisters and papa is a traveling man, mama and I
have enjoyed you very much. I think you ought to be
congratulated upon the high grade of literature you pub-
lish for your young folks.
I am a boy sixteen years of age, and as you see by the
heading, live in Decorah, Winneshiek county, Iowa, a
beautiful little city of nearly five thousand inhabitants.
About three-fourths of a mile from the business part of
town is situated the famous Ice Cave, in which ice is
found in summer, but disappears in winter.
As to education, Decorah ranks high, being the seat
of Luther College, also of two private schools, and a
good high school, the latter of which I attend.
Music is my hobby." I think I may call it that, for
I enjoy it very much. I have studied the cornet under
a teacher of this city, and have a beautiful, perfect in-
strument.
By looking through your Letter-box one may see let-
ters from all parts of the world, which certainly speaks
loudly to the praise of ST. NICHOLAS as a good and
enjoyable magazine for old and young.
With best wishes for a long life, I remain
Yours respectfully, ARTHUR B. WILSON.


WE thank the young friends whose names follow for
pleasant letters received from them: Estelle Pierce, Ag-
nes Marcy, Jennie T. Ford, Andrew Drew, Lillie Ed-
wards, Elizabeth Stevens, D. D., Gladys Keay, Helen J.
White, T. H. A., Jr., James S. Proctor, Alice Marquis,
Lida Edna Johnson, Fifine M., "Buttercup," Fannie D.
English, Mae Newton, Ruth Sammis, Helen Goodrich,
Willis C. Noble, Jr., Mildred C. Dickson, Rachel Trask,
Florence R. Pond, St. Nicholas Girl," Eloise S. Howe.


438



















ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE FEBRUARY NUMBER.


GEOGRAPHICAL PRIMAL ACROSTIC. Cape Horn. I. Caucasus.
2. Andes. 3. Patmos. 4. Erie. 5. Havre. 6. Orinoco. 7.
Rome. 8. Nile.-- CRosswoRD ENIGMA. Longfellow.
NOVEL ZIGZAG. Zigzag and initials. Conjunction. I. Cringe.
2. Oolong. 3. Nonage. 4. Jigiog. 5. Unique. 6. Noggin. 7.
Capoch. 8. Tattle. 9. Icicle. 1o. Oomiac. xi. Nimble.
PI. The cold winds rave on the icy river,
The leafless branches complain and shiver,
The snow-clouds sweep on, to a dreary tune,-
Can these be the earth and the heavens of June ?
CURIOUS ZOOLOGICAL CHANGES. I. L-emu-r. 2. Au-roc-hs.
3. Al-paca. 4. B-eagle. 5. F-owl. 6. C-r-ow. 7. C-h-at. 8.
C-ray. 9. Elk-e. io. Rat-el.
DIAMOND. I. U. 2. Ass. 3. Arena. 4. Useless. 5. Sneak.
6. Ask. 7. S.-- NUMERICAL ENIGMA. A distinguished singer.
DOUBLE ACROSTIC. Primals, Charles; finals, Dickens. Cross-
words: x. Coated. 2. Hawaii. 3. Arctic. 4. Remark. 5. Lit-


ILLUSTRATED DIAGONAL. Hunt (Leigh). i. Hare. 2. Duck.
3. Hind. 4. Goat.
CONNECTED SQUARES. I. I. Crop. 2. Rope. 3. Open. 4.
Pens. II. x. Bard. 2. Amoy. 3. R1le. 4. Dyes. III. i. Sold.
2. Over. 3. Levi. 4. Drip. IV. i. Shod. 2. Hare. 3. Ores.
4. Desk. V. i. Pane. 2. Apes. 3. Neap. 4. Espy.
TRANSPOSED TREES. i. Lime. 2. Thorn. 3. Yew. 4. Elm.
5. Balm. 6. Locust 7. Caper. 8. Aspen. 9. Plane. to. Ma-
ple. ix. Ash. 12. Cedar. 13. Almond. 14. Peach. 15. Gum.
16. Pear. 17. Lemon. 18. Teak. 19. Palm. 20. Laurel. 21.
Teil. 22. Plum. 23. Cork.
RIDDLE. i. Drums (ear-drums). 2. Ribs. 3. Chest. 4. Mus-
cles. 5. Soles. 6. Lashes. 7. Hart. 8. Arms. 9. Lids (eye-
lids). o0. Knee-caps. xx. Pupils. 12. Calves. 13. Veins. 14.
Insteps. 15. Tulips. 16. Temples. 17. Palms. I8. Column
(spinal-column).
WORD-SQUARE. I. Scrape. 2. Craven. 3. Raters. 4. Avenue.


tie. 6. Etymon. 7. Stoops.-- CHARADE. Ruin. 5. Peruse. 6. Enseel.
To. OUR PUZZLERS: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the i5th of each month, and
should be addressed to ST. NICHOLAS Riddle-box," care of THE CENTURY Co., 33 East Seventeenth St., New York City.
ANSWERS TO ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE DECEMBER NUMBER were received, before December 15th, from M. McG.-PaulReese-
L. O. E.-Nessie and Freddie-Marguerite Sturdy-Jo and I-"Dondy Small"-G. B. Dyer-Josephine Sherwood- "Buffalo
Quartette"- Four Weeks in Kane "-"Jersey Quartette "-" Edgewater Two "-Ruth Bowie Hubert L. Bingay Roger Hale
Wellington Paul Rowley Walter and Eleanor Furman "Camp Lake "- F. Miles Greenleaf- Grace Edith Thallon Two Little
Brothers,"-Sigourney Fay Nininger.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE DECEMBER NUMBER were received, before December i5th, from S. Randall Williams, i-"Armado,"
S- Kathryn Jordan, 4--Mary H. Pusey, I Kearsarge," 3 Elsie Hoxie, 5 Mariette Starr Hough, oo -Jack Cady, lo- Kent
Shaffer, --Alice M. K. Mayer, 4--Grace Colyer, 9-Helen Harman, 2- Mary F. Stone, ,7- George Barnes, i "Thinker," -
Mary K. Rake, 2 Beatrice E. Yoell, 2 St. Nicholas Girl," 6 Marguerite Kinder, 5 Van Nest and Franklin, ii- Ralph Owen, 5 -
Marguerite Maple, 2--Madeleine B. Schweig, 4-Miriam Dent, 2-Arthur N. Copperthwait, 3--Arthur Standerman, ix-Emma
Schweitzer, 5 Effie K. Talboys, o Fred. Hallock, I Herbert S. Gelpcke, i Sreten Stankowitch, 7 -Daniel Hardin and Co., 7 -
Charles P. Mills, 2- H. A. R., 12- Wmi. A. Lochren, xx -C. Piper, Lucile Cavender, 5-J. Howard Payne, i- "Arcoo," 3 -
M. F. and E. F., 8 Leonard Bates Moore, i No name, Brooklyn, 4 A. E. and H. G. E., e1 Frederick T. Kelsey, 5 C. D. Lauer
and Co., 12--Irving and Mamma, i Horace P. Cooper, 2--Allan P. Bender, 7- Belle M. Waddell, 12- Merry and Co.,"i -
Belle A. Goldman, 9.


DOUBLE DIAGONALS.

THE diagonal beginning at the upper left-hand letter
and ending with the lower right-hand letter will spell
the first name; and the diagonal beginning at the lower
left-hand letter and ending at the upper right-hand let-
ter will spell the surname, of a celebrated Scotch free-
booter.
CROSS-WORDS: I. A beam. 2. To court. 3. A bone.
SIGOURNEY FAY NININGER.

CENTRAL ACROSTIC.

ALL the words described are of equal length. When
rightly guessed and placed one below another, in the or-
der here given, the central letters, reading downward,
will spell the name of a famous warrior.
CROSS-WORDS: I. That which gives strength. 2. A,
famous warrior. 3. To make use of. 4. An East In-
dian porter or carrier. 5. Very cold. 6. To collect with
patient labor. 7. A tailor's utensil. 8. A sweet sub-
stance. BLANCHE BUCK.

WORD-SQUARE.

I. A MASS of bread. 2. An imaginary monster. 3.
A tract of land. 4. An exploit. GLADYS JOHNSON.

NOVEL ACROSTIC.

ALL the words described are of the same length.
When rightly guessed and written one below another, in


the order here given, the first and third rows of letters
will each spell the name of a European country.
CROSS-WORDS: I. The national god of the Philistines.
2. To choose. 3. A point of the compass. 4. Infec-
tious parotitis. 5. To adjust. 6. Bursts. 7. An Es-
kimo canoe. F. C. T.

AN OBLIQUE RECTANGLE.


I. IN Paris. 2. To rub. 3. Applied force. 4. A
masculine name. 5. A kind of fortification. 6. Ap-
praises. 7. A Roman historian and the friend of Cicero.
. Orthodox. 9. To deride. to. An evil spirit. II.
Stout cords. 12. An ancient musical instrument. 13.
The common European cuttlefish. 14. A cover. 15.
In Paris. M. N. MACDONALD.







THE RIDDLE-BOX.


RIDDLE.

A WORD of but one syllable am I;
From my dread presence men of old did fly;
Behead me twice, a syllable I gain,
I lose my deadly aspect yet a bain
To poor humanity you '11 find me still,
And e'en the strongest, meeting me, grow chill.
E. T. CORBETT.
ILLUSTRATED DIAGONAL.


ALL the words pictured contain the same number of
letters. When rightly guessed and placed one below the
other, in the order numbered, the diagonal (from the
upper left-hand letter to the lower right-hand letter) will
spell the name of an English poet.

HIDDEN NA1KES.
THE names of a number of illustrious persons are
concealed in the following sentences. All were famous
in the same way.
Mrs. Brown was washing Tony's face, and scolding
him because he had not come in sooner, to get ready for
school, when the door suddenly opened, and a damsel
clad in velvet and fur and nodding plumes stood before
her. Seeing no sign of recognition in Mrs. Brown's
amazed face, the new-comer exclaimed: "You have not
forgotten Mary Jeffers Only a few years ago my bro-
ther Adison and I were your daily visitors." "In-
deed, I have not," Mrs. Brown replied, and she made
the young lady very welcome. Many were the ques-
tions asked and answered. At last Mary Jeffers said


laughingly: "And do you still make that delicious straw-
berry jam Adison and I were so fond of? I remember
we helped you pick berries for that jam on Roe's Hill
one lovely summer day, Adison, John Quin, Cy Adams,
Celia Quin and I. The Quins are all in Chicago now.
I met Le Roy Deane, a great friend of Jack's, on the
train coming here, and he told me all about them. He
says the Quins are always in the van. Buren and Co.,
of Chicago, have just published Jack's latest novel, and
it is a great success. And Celia, now Mrs. William H.
Harris, only last year sold one of her paintings for a
thousand dollars. Her husband is very handsome, but
neither wise nor witty. Le Roy thinks he must feel out
of place in such a bright family as the Quins. George
Quin is a rising young lawyer, and will soon be at the
top. O. L. King, the millionaire, is his father-in-law.
Lorenzo Quin and his wife went to Brazil, but did not
stay. Lorenzo is engaged in the manufacture of cutlery,
and this year he will fill more orders than any other
maker. Do you* remember his keen face and eyes that
seemed to pierce you through and through? If his
knives are as sharp as he is himself, they will cut
anything. He married Miss Lizzie Buchan, and her fa-
ther gave him his first start in business. John Quin
will soon wed Isabel Franklin, Col. Northrup's niece.
But John's only true mate was Esm6 Deane. She
would not listen to his suit, because her dying father
had asked her to grant a last request, and marry Ben
Shay. Esm6 was not Ben's first choice, either. He
was for a long time engaged to Edgar Field's daughter,
but for some reason it was broken off. She went to
Scotland and became the bride of Lord Arthur Cleve."
"Lands sales!" exclaimed Mrs. Brown, "married a
lord! I wonder if he is as handsome as Ben ?" "Har-
ris Onslow saw him in London, and he says he is a fine-
looking man," Mary answered; but I see by the clock
that I have overstayed my time, and perhaps wearied
you with all my gossip." So, with hasty adieux, Miss
Jeffers took leave of Mrs. Brown. J. M. JONES.

CHARADE.
LET others seek a warrior's grave
Or perish at the frozen pole;
In my old second let me die,
Upon my first, within my whole.
CHARLES G. BUCK.

NUMERICAL ENIGMA.
I AM composed of fifty letters and form a quotation
from Carlyle's "Heroes and Hero-Worship."
My 44-16-30 II is to please. My 37-22-41-48 is one
of the United States. My 13-35-6-18 are parts of a
table. My 27-40-33-47-3 is a thin cake. My 50-34-23-
49-29 is a hard, black wood. My 46-9-7-2I-I-19 are fine
banquets. My 10-36-2-45-12-25 is to train. My 31-8-
43-26-20-42-24-39 is diligent. My 14-17-28-4-5-15-38-
32 is atrocious. CORNELIA BLIMBER."

SOME "INTENTIONS."
EXAMPLES: Meant to defend; armament. Meant to
wear; raiment.
I. Meant to sadden. 2. Meant to adorn. 3. Meant
to try. 4. Meant to fasten. 5. Meant to hide. 6.
Meant to cure. 7. Meant to live in. 8. Also meant
to live in. 9. Meant to ensnare. Io. Meant to charm.
II. Meant to please. 12. Meant to bestow. 13. Meant
to commemorate. 14. Meant to annoy. 15. Meant to
notify. 16. Meant to gladden. 17. Meant to be a
warlike game. 18. Meant to warn. 19. Meant to set-
tle. 20. Meant to heal. 21. Meant to decide. 22.
Meant to confess. M. E. FLOYD.


THE DE VINNE PRESS, NEW YORK.


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