• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Frontispiece
 A five-o'clock tea
 Moses, a tame eagle
 The last three soldiers
 Kitty and polly
 The leprecawn
 Seeing and believing
 The new umbrella
 Silk & cedars
 On the ferry
 Master Skylark
 The lights that guide in the...
 Outisde and inside weather
 The boyless town
 Miss Nina Barrow
 Her papa's name
 The jungfrau tunnel
 Rhymes about animals
 A tiger tale
 The true story of Marco Polo
 The horseshoe of luck
 Nanny and Jack
 For very little folk
 The curiosity shop
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Matter
 Back Cover
 Spine






Title: St. Nicholas
ALL VOLUMES CITATION PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00323
 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: VID00323
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 442
    A five-o'clock tea
        Page 443
    Moses, a tame eagle
        Page 444
        Page 445
        Page 446
        Page 447
        Page 448
        Page 449
    The last three soldiers
        Page 450
        Page 451
        Page 452
        Page 453
        Page 454
        Page 455
        Page 456
        Page 457
        Page 458
    Kitty and polly
        Page 459
    The leprecawn
        Page 460
        Page 461
    Seeing and believing
        Page 462
        Page 463
        Page 464
        Page 465
    The new umbrella
        Page 466
    Silk & cedars
        Page 467
        Page 468
        Page 469
        Page 470
    On the ferry
        Page 471
    Master Skylark
        Page 471
        Page 472
        Page 473
        Page 474
        Page 475
        Page 476
        Page 477
        Page 478
        Page 479
        Page 480
    The lights that guide in the night
        Page 481
        Page 482
        Page 483
        Page 484
        Page 485
        Page 486
        Page 487
        Page 488
    Outisde and inside weather
        Page 489
    The boyless town
        Page 489
    Miss Nina Barrow
        Page 490
        Page 491
        Page 492
        Page 493
        Page 494
        Page 495
        Page 496
        Page 497
        Page 498
    Her papa's name
        Page 499
    The jungfrau tunnel
        Page 500
        Page 501
        Page 502
        Page 503
        Page 504
        Page 505
        Page 506
    Rhymes about animals
        Page 507
    A tiger tale
        Page 508
    The true story of Marco Polo
        Page 509
        Page 510
        Page 511
        Page 512
        Page 513
    The horseshoe of luck
        Page 514
        Page 515
        Page 516
        Page 517
        Page 518
        Page 519
    Nanny and Jack
        Page 520
    For very little folk
        Page 521
    The curiosity shop
        Page 522
        Page 523
    The letter-box
        Page 524
        Page 525
        Page 526
    The riddle-box
        Page 527
        Page 528
    Back Matter
        Page 530
    Back Cover
        Page 531
        Page 532
    Spine
        Page 533
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CHUM S. FROM A PAINTING BY J. H. DOLPH.













ST. NICHOLAS.


LITTLE maiden Marie Gold,
In her dainty gown,
Skipped across the street one day
To call on Pugsy Brown.

"Pugsy, can you come to tea
This afternoon at five? "
Said little maiden Marie Gold;
"And when you do arrive,

"Say 'bow-wow-ow,' and I shall know
That you are at the door.
Come as early as you can -
At least by half-past four."

Little Pugsy-wugsy came,
His eager eyes a-shine.
His hair was brushed, his tail was curled,
And he was looking fine.

He kissed her hand and bustled in,
Nodding his courtly head,
" Oh, Pugsy Brown, I am so glad
That you are here!" she said.

"Come to the tea-room, Pugsy dear;
And if you like," said she,
"I '11 call your chum the kitten in,
And then I '11 pour the tea.

"And you are fond of lots of cream
And sugar, I suppose?"
He would not answer, only growled,
And wrinkled up his nose.


No. 6.


"Well, if you do not care," said she,
"For tea, just wait a minute;
I '11 bring a tender chicken-bone,
With all the marrow in it."

"Bow-wow! said he, and kissed her hand;
"To wait' will be a pleasure;
For surely a fine chicken-bone
Would please me beyond measure."

Just then a ribboned, fluffy thing
Called Kitty, joined the two.
"Shall I, dear Pugsy?" asked Marie;
And Pugsy said: "Oh, do "

"You are so kind," he shyly said,
"To send for Kitty's bowl."
While Kitty glanced up eagerly,
But kept her self-control.

So Kitty purred, and settled down,
And fluffed her snowy fur;
And side by side they waited there,
And did not even stir.

Lightly she lapped that bowl of milk,
And not a drop was lost;
And so the feast sped merrily,
Without regard to cost.

The cracking of the chicken-bone,
The sipping of the tea,
Were something to remember
In days that are to be.


VOL. XXIV.


APRIL, 1897.
Copyright, 1897, by THE CENTURY CO. All rights reserved.



A FIVE-O'CLOCK TEA.

BY S. J. BRIGHAM.












I


BY WOLCOTT LIE CLEAR BEARD.


His curiosity was the
S cause of our first meet-
ing. It was in this way.
I was serving at the
time as a civil-engineer in building a system
for bringing water to some of the arid plains
of southern Arizona, the region where Moses
first opened his eyes.
Early one June morning our little band
started out to make some surveys across the
sandy desert of which that country is so largely
made up. Along the trail, a foot deep with
alkali dust, the four-horse wagon containing
my nine men and their instruments slowly
plodded, now and then hidden by the choking
cloud which surrounded it; while by its side,
trying to avoid the worst of it, I rode on horse-
back. Although the sun had not long risen,
it was already burning hot, and we were all
feeling particularly cross and uncomfortable in
consequence, when suddenly our driver spoke:
What-fer kind er bird is that ? he said.
Following the line of the whip with which
he pointed, I saw, on the rounded top of one
of the giant cacti with which these deserts are
thickly studded, an eagle the like of which,
though familiar with the fowls of that region, I
had never before seen; and I may here add
that we never did with any certainty discover
the species to which she belonged. I rode near
to get a better view, but she desired no closer
acquaintance; for, after unfolding her wings
once or twice in a hesitating sort of manner as
I approached, she finally spread them and flew
heavily away, a couple of pistol-shots from the
wagon having only the effect of increasing
her speed. The cactus on which she had been
resting was a very fair sample of the largest


variety in the world of that interesting plant.
Of the thickness of a man's body, it rose straight
from the ground, a beautiful fluted column of
vivid apple-green, to a height of twenty-five
feet, where a cluster of branches nearly as thick
as the parent stem grew out from it and turned
upward, while the main trunk, without a bend,
rose several feet higher.
Between two of these branches and the trunk
there was built a nest of good-sized sticks, about
twice as large as a bushel-basket; and on this
my eyes happened to be resting when the noise
of the shots brought above its edge a little
head covered with grayish-yellow fuzz, out of
which peered two big round eyes with an air
of anxious inquiry.
"A young one cried a rod-man who had
seen the head at the same moment. The team
was stopped, and the cactus was surrounded
by all, eager for a sight of the bird; but though
we waited in silence for some minutes, its head
did not again appear.
In that desert country, far from railways and
towns, we led rather dull lives; so the several
pets we possessed in the big permanent camp
miles away served in no small measure to
amuse us; and to these we wished to add our
young friend of the cactus. But how to get
him down was a problem.
Somebody suggested that a volunteer climb
the cactus, but no one thrust himself forward to
do so. The Spanish name by which it is known
is sljuarro, which, put into English, means
" that which scratches"; and as the spines which
thickly cover the outer edges of the ridges
are from one to four inches long, and as sharp
as needles, it will be seen that the name gives
a good idea of the plant.


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" MOSES -A TAME EAGLE.


445


We did not like to cut it down, for fear the nearly all gone, the cavern closed, and, filled


fall might injure the fledgling; but after some
debate no better method presented itself, so the
two axmen set to work. As the first blows
made the green shaft tremble, the head ap-
peared once more, trying, with an expression
of concern, to see what was going on below;
but this the thick sides of the nest prevented.
Then it looked at me and said, "Jark!" This
was the first remark Moses ever made to us,
and there was no time for more then; for the
axes had eaten through the pulpy mass, which
now began to bend to its fall.
As the nest tilted we could see the thick body
belonging to the head, with two big claws
clutching wildly, while the weak, featherless
wings flapped madly in an instinctive effort to
support their owner.
The cactus came down with a crash, and
running up, we looked for our bird; but only a
little gray down was visible, with one leg help-
lessly extended from under a big branch which,
broken by the shock, had fallen across and al-
most hid him. We feared he was killed; but
when, by means of an ax-head hooked around
the prickly stuff, it was pulled aside, he gath-
ered himself together, quite unhurt, and then,
surveying the strange beings who surrounded
him, made up his mind to them with that philos-
ophy we later learned to be one of his traits,
and opening his great mouth to its fullest ex-
tent, hinted that he was hungry and wanted
something to eat.
Here was another puzzle. Eagles are meat-
eaters, and fresh meat we had not; so what
to give him we could not think, until at length
one of the rodmen, a silent youth, said: "B'iled
eggs might go. Moses could surely eat them
things all right enough." This is how he got
his name. The reasons for thus christening
him, given some days later, were that a su-
juarro looked as much like a bulrush as any-
thing in that desert would *be expected to;
and, further, because the Oriental cast of coun-
tenance caused by the hooked beak seemed
to warrant it.
However, the name and the "b'iled" eggs
both "went"; for, selecting one of the latter
from our luncheon, it was placed, bit by bit, in
the cavity yawning to receive it. When it was


to the brim, the youngster showed a desire to
sleep. In a barley-sack carefully placed in the
wagon this privilege was given to him, while
we went about our work. On gathering for
the noonday meal, however, harsh shrieks from
the bag proved that further provisions would
be acceptable. Another egg followed the first,
and this lasted him until, the day's task being
finished, we started to return to camp. Then
he woke up and from his barley-sack loudly de-
manded more; but we had no more to give
him then: we had eaten it all ourselves. When
we arrived at the home camp some fresh beef
was at once procured, but Moses was asleep
then; he did n't want to be disturbed, and
when we tried to feed him, behaved so like a
cross child that we put him in an old soap-box
in which we had arranged a nest of straw, and
left him until morning.
The half-breed in whose charge he had been
left told us that he was far better than an alarm-
clock, for no one could sleep through the cries
with which he greeted the rising sun and his
notion of breakfast-time; and while an alarm
would ring for only half a minute, Moses was
wound up to go all day, or until he got some-
thing to eat. But his guardian treated him
kindly, and Moses grew and thrived, soon put-
ting on a handsome suit of brown and gray fea-
thers, which he was very proud of, and spent
most of his spare time in preening; and he was
beginning to think seriously of trying his wings
when an accident put off his flying for a long
time. Having known, thus far, nothing but
kindness from man, he was absolutely without
fear, and, as it turned out, rather too much so.
A rock which jutted out from the high cliff
on which our camp was built was a favorite
seat for the half-grown bird; and one morning,
as he was enjoying the view from this place,
a Mexican strange to the camp, thinking he
saw a wild bird, stole up as close as he dared,
and, being without firearms, began throwing
stones. Moses turned and looked after each
rock as it whizzed past, until one struck him
fairly, and sent him fluttering over the cliff. A
couple of our men approaching at that moment,
the Mexican narrowly escaped following Moses;
but his frantic statements that he did n't know






" MOSES A TAME EAGLE.


that the eagle was a tame one finally convinced
them, and he climbed down to where Moses
was lying on a ledge forty feet below, and
brought him to the top again. The poor bird
was found to be quite badly hurt. The sight of
one eye was gone forever, and a wing drooped.
This last we thought was broken, but a care-
ful examination showed no fracture; and though
for many weeks it could not be extended with-
out pain, it at length began to heal, and even to
be of use on the few occasions when rapid loco-
motion was, in the opinion of Moses, desirable.
These were chiefly when he was taken cours-
ing," as we used to call it. He was very fond
'of the lizards with which these plains abounded,
and one large variety, called "swifts" from
their remarkable speed in running, seemed to
be especially coveted.
Whenever one of these was caught, which
was not often, Moses would be brought out, and
after the swift had taken ten feet start, would
be set free. The lizard would promptly resolve
itself into a white streak across the desert, and
screaming with excitement, half running, half fly-
ing, Moses would pursue, followed by the laugh-
ing crowd, of which only those on horseback
had much chance of keeping up. It was in no
sense a cruel sport: it amused Moses and us, and
did n't hurt the swift, for he got away every
time; and if the feelings of our pet were a trifle
injured, as he returned, perched on some one's
wrist or saddle-horn, from his fruitless hunt,
these were speedily soothed by the prompt gift
of a nice bit of fresh beef, so no one was the
worse. The lizards, however, he seemed to
view as a sort of dessert, and, as he could
absorb an unlimited quantity, they were always
in demand.
A certain stick kept on the veranda of our
office was generally under his eye; and when
any one picked this up and started for a walk
across the desert, Moses would hop gravely
along behind, sure that some of his favorite
dainties would soon be forthcoming.
Of course, Moses was perfectly well able to
catch the smaller kinds of lizards for himself,
but there was less exertion in allowing some one
else to do it for him; and exertion, at this
period of his life, was a thing to which Moses
was violently opposed. These occasions were


almost the only ones when he would be silent
for any length of time; for he seemed to under-
stand perfectly that at the first note of his voice
every lizard within hearing would run for its life
to the nearest refuge; and only when a blow of
the stick failed for the second or third time to
reach its mark would he give utterance to his
deep disgust at such clumsiness.
The big red ollas (porous earthenware jars)
swinging under the eaves of the veranda,
in which our drinking-water was kept cool by
evaporation, were also objects of his closest
attention; and when any one took down the
dipper for a drink, he would go, with his pecu-
liar racking run, and post himself directly un-
der the jar, all the while uttering his harsh cry
.of entreaty. Every one knew what this meant;
so the first dipperful would be poured slowly
between his wings, while he wriggled his body
and stuck each feather in a different direction,
in order that the cool water might reach every
part. This was the only kind of bath he ever
would take; but as it was a thirsty country, the
thermometer often registering above a hundred
degrees the twenty-four hours round, his op-
portunities were so frequent as to enable him
to keep himself in a more or less soaked condi-
tion for a good part of the time.
Moses had a language of his own, which, by
the constant practice he gave us, we soon
learned to understand. It consisted of a series
of cries, all harsh and nerve-rasping, but per-
fectly distinct, each one expressing a different
emotion. Thus, rage, entreaty, excitement, and
pleasure were each easily distinguished by those
who knew him well. His one syllable note
of greeting was more explosive and perhaps a
shade less disagreeable than the rest: and he
had also a low, crooning sort of murmur: but
this he used only in soliloquy, so to us it ex-
pressed only the fact that Moses was talking
over things with himself.
We never knew when he learned to fly. If
he practised as most young birds do, it must
have been in private, for the first hint to us of
his having acquired this new accomplishment
was one day when we were sitting on the ve-
randa of the corps barracks. Moses had been
playing in his peculiar way, which consisted in
fighting a handkerchief that one of us would


[APRIL,


446






" MOSES A TAME EAGLE.


flap at him. He had reduced this to shreds,
and grown tired of the sport, when suddenly,
spreading his wings, he shot away over the
plain as if he had been flying for years. Two
hundred yards or more away, across the plaza
formed by the camp buildings, stood the canvas
office of a contractor. The door was open,
and through it sailed Moses, and alighting on
the edge of the high desk where the proprietor
was engaged in adding up a column of figures,
greeted him with his cry of salutation, which I
have tried to render by the word "jark." The
man was startled, but thinking that our bird
had escaped, picked him up and carried him
back to us. This made Moses furious. He
did n't like this person, to start with; for on one
occasion, when asked for a bath, the man had
poured over the bird the whole eight gallons
the olla held, with a force which nearly flat-
tened him. Then, only members of the engi-
neer corps were entitled to take liberties with
Moses; and finally he would allow no one
to carry him save when perched on the wrist.
So when he was brought across the plaza
hugged in the contractor's arms, though he
never thought of trying to escape, he objected
to the indignity in his own way, as the man's
bleeding hands and torn shirt testified.
His new power of flying opened to Moses
a whole range of new amusements. There
was the cook-house, down under the cliff,
where the laborers ate. Formerly this had
been quite outside of his ken, but now he soon
discovered that meat was kept there. Fresh
beef, such as Moses loved, was in the charge
of Chinese cooks whose nerves were rendered
sensitive through excessive opium-smoking; so
all Moses had to do in order to procure a meal
was to perch himself on top of one of the poles
which supported the thatched roof, and begin
his rasping cry. His voice would soon bring
him the coveted morsel! This, if he really was
hungry, would be torn in pieces by his strong
bill and claws, and eaten at once; but if he
only feared he might become faint, as was fre-
quently the case, he would reject with scorn
the offered dainty until somebody had cut the
meat into small bits for him; then, after eating
these very slowly one by one, he would leave
the cooks in peace for a while.


One day, however, Moses shrieked in vain.
The fresh meat was out, and salted flesh he
could not eat. It was in winter, and though
not what we would consider cold, it was suffi-
ciently so to drive all the lizards underground;
so the poor bird, accustomed to regular food,
must really have become very faint. All the
morning he yelled industriously, but finding
that it would bring him nothing, finally ceased,
and sat on the ridge-pole of the office, ap-
parently wrapped in thought. Two half-grown
kittens playing on a plank-walk leading to the
office door finally attracted his attention, and
Moses "pricked up his ears," so to speak, di-
recting his keen gaze upon them for some time.
Then, evidently saying to himself, "They '11 do,"
he swooped down, pouncing on the spot; but the


"TO SAY THAT THE MAN WAS STARTLED WOULD DE TO PUT
IT VERY MILDLY." (SEE PAGE 448.)
cats, guessing his hostile errand, had scam-
pered under the walk. Still, nothing daunted,
he paced over the surface in his funny way,
his one eye turned down to the wide cracks


1897.]


447






"MOSES "- A TAME EAGLE.


between the sunken planks to sight his prey. He had nc
Discovering their whereabouts, he hopped down bending well
to the ground, lay on his side, and straining the hand-rail,
his leg to its utmost, reached to where he had into his head
last seen them; but at the approach of the big neck happen
sharp open claw they prudently retreated to his purpose w
the opposite side of the walk. Thus foiled, accordingly se
Moses mounted the planks for a second at- startled would
tempt, found the cats, and descended on that side a terrified yel
with a suddenness that he what thrown
hoped would win; but of naturally,
course they, seeing this ened the h
flank movement, re- This co
turned again to ing perch,
their first place. yell, plung
Then he tried to' :n
tear up a plank ,
with his beak, an.
and finding that
this would n't
do, returned
to his old
tactics; and
so the game
went on un-
til, weary and
disgusted, Moses
flew to the wheel
of a lumber-wagon
standing hard by, deter-
mined to have them wh'.:r r
they came out. He wai-
ed for hours, but the c r_ 1
seemed very well c..n- -
tented where they were,. i,.i .. I,
and so remained still un til -...
the advent of the but.ler, "
with his beef-laden d:,ni.:i, .rlp l
set them once more tirce. iih '
assured safety. "GRACEFULLY BALANCED BY HIS EX-
The calm belief of Moses TENDED WINGS, MOSES SHRIEKED
WITH JOY.


that everything he could see
about our camp existed only for his pleasure
was sometimes productive of amusing results.
From the top to the bottom of the cliff a
staircase, .perhaps two hundred feet long, ex-
tended. It was a weary climb, and one day,
as the eagle was wheeling about in the air over-
head, it happened that one of the laborers from
below was slowly ascending the long stairs.


big bird, and
began to pit(
former exploit
This was d
twined in the
closely grippin
anced by his
with joy. Tx


early reached the top, and was
forward, helping himself along by
when Moses suddenly took it
to rest himself. The climber's
d to be the first object suited to
which met his eye, and upon it he
:ttled. To say that the man was
Sbe to put it very mildly. With
1 he straightened up, and, some-
off his balance by this, Moses
in order to keep his place, tight-
old of his big claws.
mpleted the fright of his unwill-
who, with another and still wilder
ed under the banisters, landing
., 1-1.-:_ ,:f r.::l: -,..me ten feet be-
He i-Iie. i e lor a few bruises
SI,: ..it.-!rrie.l neck, none the
\.< :r: ; v I. ile Moses, perched
:.n the r:ilinhg, regarded him
6ritrl in expression of
rie; e..l surprise.
Another
time it was
Sa horse, wan-
dering with
... -w-- a sad air
over the arid
plains in his
search for a
stray bit of
bunch- grass,
that Moses
S. selected for
a resting-place.
11 was a cow-
pom:y, and a vicious
:.ne,-- .-o:nfirmed"buck-
c:r," it'il:l ie. i:ared to mount;
but now he had met one who
could ride him with ease.
Startled by the alighting of the
spurred by the claws, the bronco
;h in a manner that threw his
:s of this kind into the shade.
delightful, and with one claw en-
Smane of his steed, the other
g his withers, and gracefully bal-
extended wings, Moses shrieked
vice round the plaza he rode,


448


[APRIL,






,897.] MOSES. A

and then, flying to the top of a cactus near by,
he watched the horse, frightened almost to
madness, galloping away over the plain at a
speed attained by him only on one other oc-
casion, and that was on the following day, when
Moses repeated the performance.
His flights about this time began to be
longer, sometimes keeping him away for several
days, and so his fame spread. The scattered
settlers for many miles up and down the slug-
gish Gila recognized his cry for food, and read-
ily answered it by the offer of the best they had.
He was always perfectly tame, and if a bit
of beef or a lizard was held up in the air and a
whistle sounded to attract attention, a speck
far up in the ever-blue sky, would soon resolve


THE GOUTY WIZARD FINDS IT DIFFICULT TO MOVE ON.


BUT HE SEES A SNAKE AND SOON WORKS A CHARM.


" HOW IS THIS," HE SAYS IN TRIUMPH, "FOR A CANE! "


THE INCANTATION IS SUCCESSFUL.


-"


TAME EAGLE. 449

itself into Moses, who, descending like a bullet,
but landing gently as a feather on the extended
wrist, would take his provender, and, retiring to
his old perch on the ridge-pole, would devour
it as of yore.
But at last the spring came; and once when
he presented himself for his rations, we noticed
that he was accompanied by one of his own
kind, who waited for him while he ate.
It never seemed to occur to him to offer his
companion any share in his repast, but the
other eagle apparently did not notice this omis-
sion; and when he had finished, they flew
away together, disappearing in the direction of
old Mexico; and from that time on, his former
haunts knew Moses no more.











THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS.


By WILLIAM HENRY SHELTON.


[Begunin the November number.]

CHAPTER X.

THE PRISONERS.
THE ledge up which the ladders led from
the direction of the gorge, it will be remembered,
formed the northern support of the plateau.
The unscalable cliff terminated its extent to the
south; and of the two longer sides the one on
the west overlooked Whiteside Cove, and that
on the east, Cashiers Valley. The view into
the Cove over the boulder side of the mountain,
after the trees which grew on the edge were
reached, was broad and unobstructed. On the
eastern side there was but one gap in the tim-
ber which covered the mountain-side from the
end of the ledge to the cliff, through which a
perfect view could be had of the settlement in
the valley. Before Andy Zachary left the pla-
teau, Lieutenant Coleman had sketched a rude
plot of the mountains overlooking the valley,
and at the guide's dictation had written down
the name of each peak. Yellow Mountain was
the nearest, and showed a dark, timbered ridge
beyond the gorge. At the northern end of the
valley rose the mass of Sheep Cliff, and joined
to it were the lesser ridges of Big and Little
Terrapin. Hog's Back showed its blue top ten
miles away to the east, beyond the nearer
wooded ridges that shut in the valley on that
side, down to Rock Mountain and Chimney
Top, which reared their sharp peaks to the
right of the plateau. Directly below this eas-
tern outlook lay the one white road which ran
through the valley, the same road along which
the cavalcade had picked its silent way in the
small hours of the morning, five months before,
when they had come full of hope to establish
the station.
Our exiles up to this time had been so busy
with their preparations for winter that they had


given but little attention to their neighbors be-
low. They had noticed on frosty mornings col-
umns of white smoke rising straight into the air
from half a dozen cabins in the valley, most of
which had been hidden from view by the thick
foliage during the summer months. Now that
the November winds had stripped the trees of
their leaves, two cabins appeared in the direc-
tion of Sheep Cliff, standing side by side among
the bare oaks on a knoll which sloped gently
to the road. The two seemed to be precisely
alike, with rude verandas in front, and at no
great distance back of these, in an open clear-
ing, surrounded with orchards and stacks, was
a long house with a heavy stone chimney at
each end. Scattered to the right of the plateau
were several cabins, and close on the road a
a square brown building which looked to be a
store. Just below this point of rocks where the
three soldiers looked down on the valley, stood
the largest house in the settlement, old and
rambling in construction, with lurching chim-
neys and roofs extending to left and rear. The
woodpile was at the opposite side of the road,
and comfortable log barns stood on the hillside
above. All these details were to be seen with
the naked eye, but the powerful telescope of
the station revealed much more, even show-
ing the faces and forms of the people who lived
in the cabins.
As the three exiles were lounging together
one afternoon at this very point of rocks, study-
ing their neighbors through the telescope as if
they had been the inhabitants of another planet,
Philip broke the silence with quite an original
speech,- one only he could make.
See here, fellows," he said with that new
familiarity they had begun to show toward each
other, "as we are likely to take considerable
interest in these people down below, it will be
mighty inconvenient when we talk about them
to say, The man in the big house across the






THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS.


road from the log barn did this,' or The man
in the farthest twin cabin did that,' or The old
chap in the long house flanked by orchards and
stacks did something else,'- so I say let 's give
them family names."
The others laughingly admitted that the idea
was not a bad one, and Bromley suggested at
random the names Smith, Jones, and Brown.
"As good as any others," said Philip.
"Very well," said Bromley, "then we will
call this first neighbor Smith.'"
No, you don't," cried Philip with much
spirit. I 've taken a prejudice against that
old fellow, because he sits on the woodpile and
smokes his pipe every afternoon while his wife
does the milking. Smith is too respectable a
name for him."
I did n't know," said Coleman, laughing,
"that there was any particular virtue in the
name of Smith."
I did n't say there was," said Philip, "but
if this first old loafer should turn out half as
bad as I fear he will, the name would be a
slur on too many families, you know. Now, if
it's all the same to you gentlemen, we will
begin at the other end and call the man of the
orchard Smith.' 'Jones naturally falls to the
owner of the second twin-cabin, and this fellow
below becomes say, 'Shifless,' whether he
likes it or not."
As no one of the three had even heard of any
one of the name of Shifless, Philip's arrange-
ment was agreed to, and from time to time
they settled other names on the dwellers in
every cabin in sight, and one column of smoke
which rose from behind an intervening ridge
was spoken of as "Thompson's smoke."
On the morning of December 23 in that first
year on the mountain, the three soldiers were
thrown into a great state of excitement by a
remarkable discovery. Coleman and Bromley
were clearing off the snow from a stack of pea-
vines preparatory to beating them out on the
floor of the house, when Philip came running
toward them, holding up the telescope and
beckoning them to meet him. He said he had
seen three United States officers at the long
cabin under Sheep Cliff, which was known as
Smith's. The others needed no urging to fol-
low Philip. Indeed, they ran so rapidly over


the frozen ground in the rare upper air that
they scarcely had breath for speaking when
they arrived on the point of rocks. Philip di-
rected the glass on the house again, and then,
with a cry of delight, he passed it to Coleman.
"There they are! There they are! See?
By the end of the house! "
As soon as the lieutenant had adjusted the
powerful glass to his eye, he had the men be-
fore him almost as distinctly as if they had been
standing within hailing distance. There was
no mistaking the evidence that two of them
were officers of what the three soldiers con-
sidered the beaten and disbanded army, while,
although the third was in citizen's dress, it was
unlike the dress of the mountaineers.
Heaven help them! exclaimed Lieutenant
Coleman, as he gazed in amazement on the
scene at the end of the log house. "How
ragged they are! They must have been hunted
through the woods like wild animals. Both of
the two in uniform wear jackets of the mounted
service, and-stop-as sure as you are born,
the taller of the two is a lieutenant of artillery.
He has but one shoulder-strap left, and that has
too dark a ground for either Cavalry or Infan-
try. They may be from the Staff. There is
something about their uniforms in spite of rags
and dirt that makes me think so. The other
carries a roll of blankets over his shoulder he
must be a soldier and they have just come in,
too, for their haversacks are mighty lean."
It looked as if the poor fellows had found
friends at last; for -while they stood talking
with two women at the end of the house, Smith
himself, who was a lank mountaineer with a
red beard, was lounging by the gate with his
gun on his shoulder, as if watching against sur-
prise from the road. Bromley, who had been
patiently waiting, now took the glass.
By Jove!" he cried, "there are four girls
there now, and the short officer is going into
the house. You are right, Fred, the old man
is on guard, with a sharp eye in his head, too.
They are all going into the house, now, by
Neighbor Smith's advice, I fancy. I'll tell you
who they are, Fred. They are escaped pris-
oners from Charleston. They must have been
hiding in the woods and swamps for months.
If that is the condition of the officers of the


451






THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS.


United States, that were, a thousand times bet-
ter is our lot on this free mountain-top." And
returning the glass, Bromley ventured some bit-
ter reflections on the Congress and the high
officials who had conducted the war to a dis-
astrous end.
"We must not lose sight of these unhappy
men while they remain in the valley," said
Coleman; and it then being ten o'clock, he
settled himself behind the glass, and gave his























-NI
77 '"M

'. -)





S'THERE THEY ARE! SEE? BY THE END OF THE HOUSE

watch to Bromley, who was to relieve him at
twelve.
Philip was too much excited by the pres-
ence of the fugitive officers to leave the rocks
of his own accord; but Coleman presently sent
him to the house for a loaded carbine, which
was laid by in a dry niche of granite, to be
fired as a signal to the others in case of any
movement of importance at the cabin below.
For the rest of the morning, Smith with his gun


kept his post at the gate, and the officers were
never once seen outside the cabin. Judging
by the volume of smoke from both chimneys,
it would appear that they were faring pretty
well inside.
Shortly before noon one of the girls ran
through the bare woods to the two cottages
overlooking the road, and brought back Jones,
who relieved Smith at the gate. It was evident
that Jones was friendly to the officers, for when
he was relieved in turn,
he went into the house;
and it was a long time
Before he came out.
Whoever was on watch
was seldom alone, so
keen was the interest of
i the exiles in the move-
',"' ments of their fellow-
ii soldiers, and in any other
happening which might
concern them. Accord-
ing to Philip, who took
the post of observation
at four o'clock, old Shif-
less bossed the milking
from the woodpile as
usual. It was plain that
he had not been taken
into the confidence of
the Smiths or the Joneses,
and this fact was laid up
against him.
After supper all three
gathered on the rocky
lookout, and remained
observing the lights at
the cabin of the Smiths,
' EXCLAIMED PHILIP." long after it was too
dark to use the tele-
scope. There were no signs of departure be-
low, and after they returned to the house,
chilled by exposure and inaction, they sat until
a late hour by the warm fire discussing the
events of the day, and laying plans for the
morrow.
At the first indication of dawn Bromley
dressed and set out for the rocks, while his
comrades turned over for another nap, which
was taken with one eye open, so excited were


[APRIL,


R






THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS.


they in view of what might happen during the
day. In their drowsy, half-wakeful state it
seemed to Coleman and Philip as if no time at
all had passed since the departure of Bromley,
when they were startled by the echoing report
of the carbine. Hurrying on their clothing,
they scampered across the hard snow to the
rocks, where they found Bromley with the tele-
scope fixed on the house of Shifless.
"There the old rogue is," said Bromley,
handing the spy-glass to Coleman, "leading
his mule out of the stable. He must have got
some information, during the night, for after
going to the stable with a lantern, he climbed
up onto that ridge beyond, and looked over at
Smith's clearing as if he wanted to satisfy him-
self that all was quiet there. I suspected he
was up to some deviltry, as soon as I got out
here, for I saw a light in the house, showing.
first from one window and then from another.
Drat his picture! Bromley continued. "As
soon as he began climbing the hill I fired the
alarm."
I never knew him to turn out before eight
o'clock," said Philip.
He certainly means mischief," said Cole-
man, "for he is saddling the mule. Now he
has blown out the lantern and hung it on the
bar-post. Now he is mounting, the treacherous
old villain Confound him! there he goes
trotting down the road toward the store."
Philip and Bromley took a look at the man,
hurrying along in the gray of the morning be-
fore another soul was awake in the settlement,
and then they saw him turn on to the road
which would lead him around the mountain
into the cove.
"If I were only down in his neighborhood
now," said Coleman, following Shifless with
the telescope, "with a good rifle, I 'd tumble
him off that mule. I should be serving my
country."
"What country? sneered Bromley.
To this Coleman made no reply, and the
three walked slowly across the mountain to the
boulder side. They had not long to wait there
before the man on the mule appeared on the
road below, and they followed him with scowl-
ing eyes until he drew up in front of the Cove
Post-office, dismounted, and went in.


Of course," exclaimed Bromley, "the post-
master is a creature of the Confederacy."
In half an hour the two men trotted away
together, and soon disappeared among the
mountains.
Our heroes turned back, certain in their
minds that this stealthy journey of Shifless
had been undertaken with hostile intentions
toward the three officers who still remained in
the cabin under the shadow of Sheep Cliff.
They felt keenly their inability to warn them
of the danger which hung over them, and hoped
that during the day they might see the visitors
leaving the valley.
Their anxiety now made it necessary to watch
for developments in the Cove as well as in the
valley, and they scarcely found time to prepare
their meals, which they ate as they moved
about. All day the telescope was in transit
from one side of the mountain to the other
until there was a deep path trodden in the
snow. From time to time one or another of
the officers was seen near the cabin, and even
if they had not been seen at all, the presence
of Smith or one of the girls watching at the
gate would have been sufficient evidence that
the officers were still there. They might be
waiting for a guide or the cover of night be-
fore going on. The day was unusually cold,
and beyond the smoke from the chimneys and
here and there a woman in a doorway, there
was no movement in the quiet valley.
Late in the afternoon of this December 24,
for it was Christmas Eve,--and not a very
cheerful one on the mountain,- Bromley, who
was watching on the Cove side, spied a body
of men at that very point in the road where the
two horsemen had disappeared in the morning.
He shouted so lustily for the telescope that
both Philip and Coleman joined him with all
haste.
What they saw through the glass was a strag-
gling column of mountaineers advancing in
single file along the winding road, their steel
rifle barrels catching the last rays of the setting
sun. There were thirteen men in the party,
of whom about half wore some part of a Con-
federate uniform; but neither Shifless nor the
Cove postmaster was with them. They had
scarcely time to pass the glass from one to an-


1897.]






THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS.


other in their excitement before the men left
the road, and turned up the mountain side with
a stealthy movement that made it plain they
were going into temporary concealment.
A few extracts from Lieutenant Coleman's
diary at this point give a vivid picture of what
was happening during the night on the moun-
tain and about it.
I am writing by the light of the fire in our house on
this Christmas Eve, at 0 : 30 o'clock by my watch, pow-
erless to warn our friends at the cabin of the impending
calamity. Soon after dark, fire appeared on mountain-
side; and it is now burning brightly as reported by
Philip, who has just returned to the lookout.
12, midnight. Have just come in- fire still visible.
12: 35. Philip reports that fire has just been extin-
guished on mountain side. Sparks indicated fire was
put out by beating and scattering the brands. We are
all about to go to Point of Rocks shall probably be up
all night.
It seems that as soon as day began to dawn
faintly on the mountain tops, and while it was
still dark in the valley, the three soldiers were
crouching on the rocks eagerly awaiting light
in the clearing. First the whitewashed walls
of the cabin came into view, and then, in the
gray dawn, as they fully expected, they began
to distinguish motionless figures stationed at
regular intervals in the clearing, and forming an
armed cordon about the house. There was no
sign of smoke from the stone chimneys, nor
any other evidence that the inmates had been
disturbed by the soldiers, or had awakened
of their own accord.
There was one hope left. The officers might
have gone away during the night. They should
soon know; and meanwhile the snowy moun-
tains reared their dark ridges against the slowly
reddening eastern sky, and a great silence lay
on the valley.

CHAPTER XI.

IN WHICH THE SOLDIERS MAKE A MAP.

THE forbearance of the captors to disturb
their prisoners was puzzling to the three sol-
diers huddled together on the Point of Rocks.
Through the telescope the men could now be
plainly seen in their rough mountain dress,
moving to and fro on their stations, and appar-
ently keeping under cover where trees or out-


houses were available as a mask. At one point
several men were grouped together behind a
fodder-stack, as if in consultation, and on the
road could be seen one who seemed to be
watching impatiently for some expected arrival.
Holding the telescope soon grew tiresome,
and they passed it from one to another that no
movement in the gruesome pantomime might
escape their observation; and the observer for
the time being broke the silence at intervals
with details of what he saw.
"There! cried Philip at last, "the men are
getting lively behind the fodder-stack. Now
the fellow in the road is waving his hat. Hold
on 1 There comes a man -two men -on
horseback. Now the sentinels are moving in
toward the cabin."
Thus the cordon was drawn close about the
house, in which the inmates still showed no
signs of life. The horsemen dismounted and
tied their horses to the fence, and then with an
armed guard advanced to the door. Lieutenant
Coleman looked at his watch. It was twenty
minutes after seven. At seven twenty-eight,
the old mountaineer appeared, and was passed
down the line to the road. Next came the
three officers one after the other, and they were
removed to one side under guard. Then the
four women seemed to be driven out of the
house by the soldiers, and forced along by vio-
lence into the road. Some of the men ap-
peared to be breaking the windows of the cabin,
and others were running out of the open door,
appropriating some objects and ruthlessly de-
stroying others. For the first time the soldier
exiles realized how far they were removed, by
their own will, from a world in which they had
no part. The sufferers were their friends whom
they knew not, and to help whom they had no
power. They were like spirits looking down
from a world above on the passions of mor-
tals, as helpless to interfere as the motionless
rocks.
After a brief consultation the mounted men
rode away to the north, while the prisoners
with their guards advanced in the opposite
direction, and soon disappeared behind that
ridge up which Shifless had climbed to look
over, in the gray of the morning of the day be-
fore. A puff of smoke burst from the deserted


[APRIL,






THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS.


cabin and rose like a tower into the frosty air.
Fire gleamed through the broken windows, and
red tongues of flame licked about the dry logs,
and lashed and forked under the eaves and
about the edges of the shingled roof. The re-
flection from the flames reddened the snow in
the little clearing. The stacks caught fire.
The boughs of the orchard withered and crisped
in the fierce heat.
Now, as if satisfied with their work of de-
struction, the men who had remained at the
house joined the others behind the ridge, and
the armed guards with their miserable prisoners
soon reappeared, moving over the snow under
the bare trees. The three soldiers lay out on
the rocks above to watch the poor captives
picking their way down a stony, winding trail,
forming one straggling file between two flanking
columns of mountaineers. Knowing something
of the stoical ways of these people, they could
feel the silence of that gloomy progress. They
even fancied they could hear the crunching of
the snow, the rolling of displaced stones on the
frosty hillside, the crackling of brittle twigs under
foot, and the subdued sobbing of the women.
Steadily the procession of ill omen moved
along over the snow, under the thin trees, dis-
appearing and reappearing and dwindling in
the distance, until it was lost behind the spurs
of the mountain called Chimney Top. By this
time the roof of the house had fallen into the
burning mass between the two stone chimneys;
the sun had risen, and the dense column of
smoke cast a writhing shadow against the snowy
face of Sheep Cliff.
When the glass was brought to bear on the
house and road below, it revealed Shifless and
the Cove postmaster riding quietly home on
their mules, doubtless well satisfied with the
evil deed their heads had planned.
As the three soldiers turned back in the di-
rection of their house, Bromley was in a rage,
and Philip could no longer command himself.
All three were worn and haggard with loss of
sleep, and depressed by the outcome of the
affair in the valley.
In fact, the disheartening effect of the experi-
ences connected with this first Christmas con-
tinued to oppress our exiles well into the next
year. If in the narrow valley on which they


were privileged to look down, three officers
of the old armies had been thus hunted and
dragged off before their eyes, they had reason
to believe that fragments of those armies were
receiving similar or worse treatment wherever
they might be found. Time and their daily
work gradually calmed their minds and helped
them to forget the pain of what they had seen.
They missed the company of the bear, too;
for even before this
great disturbance
their telescope
could discover him for several months.i


































the mountain, and they were confined more
and more to the house. The Slow John wasof
J.;


















tud,- .... I
sell,

sume his own fat
where not even "THE FOWLS HUNG ABOUT
THE DOOR."
their telescope
could discover him for several months.
Presently the winter snows became deeper on
the mountain, and they were confined more
and more to the house. The Slow John was
frozen up in the branch, and the fowls which
could no longer forage for their own living hung
about the door for the scraps from the table
and an occasional handful of corn. They
roosted in the cabin of the Old Man of the


897g.]






456


THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS.


[APRIL,


Mountain, and now and then, in return for their discussed until theology and the art of clothing
keep, laid an egg, which was often frozen be- and feeding an army were worn threadbare.
fore it was found. Philip, who was blessed with a vivid imagination
The soft, clean husks of the corn, added to and great originality, made up the most mar-
the pine boughs, made comfortable beds, and velous ghost-stories and the most heartrending
the tents spread over the blankets provided and finally soul-satisfying romances which were
recited in the evenings
before the fire, to the
huge enjoyment of his
t ..companions. If it was
romance, a fat pine-
knot thrust between
the logs illumined the

the farthest corners and
crannies of the room
Switch a flood of light;
a and in case it was a
ghost-story, the logs
were left to burn low
and fall piecemeal into
the red coals before
the eyes of the three
figures sitting half re-
vealed in sympathetic
obscurity.
One of the most in-
teresting incidents of
the first winter was the
*:. construction, by Lieu-
... t tenant Coleman, of a
map of the old Unit-
ed States," and the
plotting thereon of the
Confederacy as they
supposed it to be.
r When it is remembered
that the map was drawn
'P entirely from memory,
F. VIC the clear topographical
knowledge of the offi-
cer was, to say the
"PHILIP MADE UP THE MOST MARVELOUS STORIES, WHICH WERE RECITED BEFORE least, surprising.
THE FIRE."
The first reference to
abundant covering. Great bunches of catnip the map is found in Lieutenant Coleman's entry
and pennyroyal for tea hung from the rafters, in the diary for the 24th of January, 1865:
and even the wild gentian, potent to cure all
As we were sitting before the fire last night, George
ailments, was not forgotten in the winter outfit. introduced a subject which,by common consent, we have
The Prayer Book and Army Regulations which rather avoided any reference to or conversation upon.
formed their library were read and re-read and This related to the probable boundaries of the new na-






THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS.


tion established by the triumphant Confederates. We
had no doubt that the Confederacy embraced-all the
States which were slave-holding States at the outbreak
of the Rebellion; and as they doubtless had made Wash-
ington their capital, it was more than probable that they
had added little Delaware to Maryland on their northern
border. We assumed that so long as there were two
governments in the old territory, the Ohio River would
be accepted as a natural boundary as far as to the Mis-


sissippi; but we were of widely different opinions as to
the line of separation thence.
George, who is inclined to the darker view, is of the
'opinion that the Southern Republic, if it be a republic at
all, would certainly demand an opening to the Pacific
Ocean, and therefore must embrace a part, if not the
whole, of California.
February r6. We have been confined to the house
two days by a driving snow-storm, and the territorial ex-
tent of the Confederacy has come up again, not, however,
for the first time since the discussion on the 23d of Jan-
uary. As we still have one stormy month before the
opening of spring, I have determined to enter upon the
construction of a map which shall lay down the probable
boundaries of the two nations. When George and I are
unable to agree, the point in dispute will be argued be-
fore Philip, and settled by the votes of the three.

On February 17, then, this map was begun
on the inner side of one of the rubber ponchos
after buttoning down and gluing with pitch the
opening in the center. It was stretched on a
VOL. XXIV.- 58.


frame, and thus provided a clean white canvas
five feet square on which to draw the map.
If Lieutenant Coleman and his companions
had known that General Sherman, after whom
they had named their island in the sky and
whom they mourned as dead, was that very
morning marching into the city of Columbia,
the capital of South Carolina, with all his


bands playing and flags flying, the map would
never have been made, and the life on the
mountain would have come to a sudden end.
Fortunately for the continuance of this history,
they were ignorant of that fact, and Lieutenant
Coleman on this very day began plotting his
map with charcoal. After going over the coasts
and watercourses and establishing the boun-
daries of States, and that greatest and most
difficult of all boundaries, the one between "the
two countries," he would blow off the charcoal
and complete the details with ink.- Of this
necessary fluid there was a canteen full, which
had been made in the fall from oak-galls (lumps
or balls produced on the oak-leaves by tiny
insects) and the purple pokeberries which had
been gathered from the field below the ledge.
The oak-leaves had been steeped in warm wa-
ter, and this mixture, together with the berries,






THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS.


[APRIL,


had been strained through a cloth and bottled of a legal mind he took care to begin his ar-
up in the canteen. gument by claiming much more than he ex-
While at West Point, Cadet Coleman of the. pected to establish. Thus, not content with


class of '63 had devoted himself to mapping,
and he believed he was tolerably familiar with
his subject until, at the very outset, difficulties
began to arise. He found that his knowledge
about the Northwestern Territories was shaky,
and it was difficult to convince Bromley that
Arkansas was not west of Kansas.
They finally gave little Delaware to the Con-
federacy, accepting the bay and river as a nat-
ural geographical separation. Thence they
followed the southern boundary of Pennsylva-
nia to the Ohio River, the Ohio and Mississippi
to the southern boundary of Iowa, and thence
west and south on the northern and western
frontiers of Missouri. The Indian Territory
became the first point of disagreement.
Under date of March i, 1865, Lieutenant
Coleman says:

With the aid of Philip, I pressed the boundary line
south to the Red River. We all conceded Texas to the
Confederacy. I was disposed to establish the extreme
western boundary of the Confederacy as identical with
the western frontier of Texas. George allowed this so
far as the Rio Grande formed a natural boundary along
the frontier of Mexico, but stoutly insisted that the-suc-
cessful Southerners would never consent to a settlement
which did not extend their borders to the Pacific Ocean.
To this claim on the part of the South he contended
that the imbecility of Congress and the timidity of North-
ern leaders would offer little or no opposition. He held
that if they took part of California, they might as well
take the whole; and in either case they would take New
Mexico and Arizona as the natural connection with their
Pacific territory.
I contended that California had never been a Slave
State, and would never consent to such an arrangement.
To this George replied that California was without
troops, and that her wishes would not be a factor in the
solution of the problem; that the South, flushed with
victory, could not be logically expected to content itself
with less; that it would be -a matter to be settled be-
tween the two governments, and that for his part he
saw no reason to believe that the North, in view of its
blunders civil and its failures military, would have the
-power or the courage to prevent such seizure by the
enemy. Philip leaned to this view, and was even will-
ing to throw in Utah for sentimental reasons.

Bromley showed great skill and cleverness
in advocating his peculiar views. When he
had a point to gain, with the natural cunning


the concession of California and the southern
tier of Territories leading thereto, he called the
attention of the others to the great Rocky
Mountain range, offering itself, from the north-
western extremity of Texas to the British pos-
sessions, as a natural geographical wall between
nations. He admitted that the Western men
had been the bone and sinew of the late fruit-
less struggle; but they were the hardy soldiers
of Illinois, Wisconsin, Iowa, and Kansas, still
far to the east of the great mountain-range,
with vast uncivilized Territories between.
To this view Lieutenant Coleman opposed the
jealousy of the great ally of the South, as not
likely to favor an unequal partition; he said
that England would certainly not lend her aid
to bringing the more aggressive of the two na-
tions up to her own colonial borders. Besides,
he contended, the South was without a navy,
and at the outset could never defend such a
great addition to her already vastly superior
coast-line.
This long argument resulted in a compromise;
and bythe decision of Philip, California, Arizona,
and New Mexico were given to the Confeder-
acy, and half the Pacific coast was saved to
the old government.
Bromley's matter-of-fact character had no

sentimental side. He was a worker, and no
dreamer. He threw himself with all the weight
of his convictions and the force of his well-
trained mind into the discussion of the extent
of the Confederate victory; but the moment
the boundary was settled he seemed to forget
the existence of the map and to lose himself in
the next piece of work.
After completing the outlines of the map in
ink, Lieutenant Coleman began laying a tone
of lines over the whole Confederacy. As the
work progressed, the three soldiers watched the
new power creeping like an ominous shadow
over the map. The one break in the expanse
of gloom was the white star at the northwestern
corner of North Carolina, which marked the
location of Sherman Territory. When-the map
was finished and hung on the logs, the Confed-
eracy looked like nothing so much as a huge


458






THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS.


dragon crouching on the Gulf of Mexico, with
the-neck and head elevated along the Pacific,
and the tail brushing Cuba.
Although they accepted the map without fur-
ther discussion, its white face, looking down on
them from the wall as they sat about the even-
ing fire, provoked many a talk about affairs in
the world below. The time for the election of
a new President had passed since they had
been on the mountain. After the complete and
pitiful collapse of Lincoln's administration, they
had no doubt that McClellan had been elected.
Philip thought the new capital should be lo-
cated at Piqua, Ohio (which was where his
uncle lived), as it was near the center of popu-
lation!
But Bromley favored the city of Cleveland.
Ohio, he pointed out, extended entirely across
the Union, and as the State which linked the
two parts together, it would need to be strongly
guarded, and the capital with its troops and
fortifications would strengthen that weak link
in the chain. Cincinnati was too close to the
enemy's territory to be thought of as a capital.


Shortly before undertaking the map, Lieuten-
ant Coleman had the good fortune to bring
down a large gray eagle which, although soar-
ing high above the valleys, was but just skim-
ming the mountain-top. This was a fortunate
event, because the very last steel pen had be-
come very worn and corroded. Lieutenant
Coleman had been longing above all things for
quills, and now that he wrote again with an
easy and flowing hand he seems to have for-
gotten that his supply of paper was limited. In
the controversy over the map the entries are
of unusual length, and then suddenly they be-
come brief and cramped, and are written in so
small a hand that there can be no doubt the
writer took sudden alarm on discovering how
few blank pages were left in the book.
Since Christmas the telescope had rarely
been taken from its place on the chimney, and
if they looked over into the Cove or the valley
without it, those snow-covered regions below
were far-off countries where the houses showed
only as rounded forms, and the human ants
who lived in them were scarcely visible.


(To 3e continued.)


)WHEN Kitty had driven "pug" from
the chairs,
And draped the curtains with dainty
airs,
Her work she admired, but said she
was -tired
Of having so many household cares.

Polly had washed the dishes all,
Had dusted the furniture, cleaned the
hall,
And baked the bread. She was glad,
she said,
She could do a little, although she
was small.


459


1897.]










'B inthrop ackard.


i~ri


IN County Kerry, minding cows
One day in early spring,
I chanced to.see a Leprecawn
Quite busy hammering.
He sat behind the meadow hedge,
A-mending one old shoe,
As older folk had always said
A Leprecawn would do.

" Ho, Leprecawn! ho, Leprecawn!
See! now I have you fast;
I 've looked for you for many a day,
And you are mine at last.
Where do you keep your money, sir?
That 's what I want to know;
Now tell me where it 's hidden, or
I will not let you go."


',,


-lr ;


LW


111411;~


The Leprecawn looked by me straight
Down to the meadow's edge:
"Look there! said he; your father's cows
Have broken through the hedge."
But never once I looked away,
For everybody knows
Unless you watch the Leprecawn,-
Whisht out of sight he goes.
"And hark! said he; "what is that noise
That sounds along the track!
The Squire is galloping this way;
He 's here just at your back."
But never once I looked away,
For often I 've been told
That you must watch the Leprecawn
Until you get his gold.

"Ho, Leprecawn! ho, Leprecawn!
Where may it hidden be-
This gold of yours ? Now tell me, or
You never shall go free.
I will not take my eye from you-
That same you need not fear;
For well I know that if I do
You '11 quickly disappear."
"Good Master, ho! good Master, now,
Come down this way with me;
A mighty field of boliauns
We both can plainly see;


-- '


2/
r






THE LEPRECAWN.


~-Aa-

rZ

*'1S~ __1!0
C. -~~~g~~ ,


And underneath this very bush
My gold is placed with care.
Go, fetch a spade and dig, and you
Shall surely find it there."


" Ho, Leprecawn! ho, Leprecawn!
You think to trick me well!
This bush from any other bush
How, surely, shall I tell?
A mile this field of boliauns
Doth stretch each way, alack!
How shall I know this single bush
When spade and I come back?"


flT




I-7


-ft .


" Good Master, ho good Master, now-
My garter, russet red,
I fasten to this single bush,"
The Leprecawn then said;
"And when to dig you shall come back,
You still shall find it there.
I will not touch that same again,
Good Master, I declare!"

A Leprecawn ne'er broke his word
To any living man;
And so I set the rascal free,
And to my cabin ran.
But when, with spade- in willing hand,
Back to the place I sped,
The whole broad field of boliauns
Was blushing russet red

With garters here and garters there,
Hung on each bush and tree!
Sure, all the hose in Fairyland
Down at the heel must be!
And underneath the boliaun
The fairy gold still lies,
Until again a Leprecawn
I happen to surprise.











SEEING AND BELIEVING.


By HAROLD WILSON, M. D.


T is an old and a
wise saying that
"seeing is believ-
ing," yet every-
body knows that
very often what we
see, and therefore
believe, proves to
W be not really true
at all. As we grow
older, finding that
our eyes have so
frequently deceived us, we are often not satisfied
with the evidence they give us until we have
verified it by touch or smell or hearing or taste,
or by looking at some doubtful thing from differ-
ent points of view, or under a different, lighting.
We are not willing to believe that a conjurer
actually draws rabbits from a man's ear or
coins from the tip of his nose just because our
eyes tell us such tales. Sometimes our decep-
tions are so lasting that things must be made
wrong in order to look right, which seems
rather contradictory. If we look at the letter S
or the figure 8 as carefully as we can, the upper
and lower halves seem to be almost exactly
the same size. If we turn them upside down,
this, S, 8, the difference in the size of the loops
is quite astonishing, and we won-
der how we could have been so
mistaken; yet perhaps the truth is
that the loops are neither so dif- +
ferent nor so much alike as they
seem to be, as we see when we
look at them turned upon their
sides, thus, cn, oo.
The eye is such a delicate bit of machinery,
it has so many parts, and so many different
kinds of work to do, and such long hours of
labor, that it is not surprising, after all, if in
the capacity of receiving-office for so many
millions of light-waves every minute, it should


occasionally send wrong messages to the cen-
tral station in the brain. Nor is it to be won-
dered at if the mind itself, having so many
other things to attend to at the same time,
sometimes fails to understand what certain mes-
sages from the eye may mean. These mistakes
on the part of the mind in-interpreting the com-
munications which the eye sends to it, are
called illusions of sight.
Moreover, in the eye itself certain things may
go on which give us wrong sensations, which,
although not truly illusions, are very much like
them. Thus, when we suddenly strike our heads
or faces against something in the dark, we see
"stars," or bright sparks, which we know are
not real lights, though they are quite as bright
and sparkling as if they were. When we close
one eye and look straight -ahead at some word
or letter in the middle of this page, for example,
we seem to see not only the thing we are look-
ing at, but everything else immediately about
it and for a long way on each side. But the
truth is, there is a large round spot, somewhere
near the point at which we are looking, in which
we see nothing.. Curiously enough, the ex-
istence of this blind spot was not discovered by
accident, and nobody ever suspected it until
Mariotte reasoned from the construction of the


FIG. I. THE VANISHING DISK.


eyeball that it must exist, and proceeded to find
it. Now we can all find it very easily. If you
will hold Fig. i straight in front of the right
eye, and about ten and a half inches away from
it, the left eye being kept closed, then look
sharply at the center of the little cross, every-






SEEING AND BELIEVING. 463

thing being properly adjusted, the round black greatly.deceived. We all know how large the
spot will disappear completely from view. full moon looks when it has just'risen, and how
Some of our most delightful sensations are much smaller it appears when it rides higher
those of color. Nature has given us a great in the sky; and those of you who have ever
profusion of them,
but the eye is not
satisfied with what
it gets legitimately,
as it were, but creates
for itself a lot of im-
aginary colors, which
are often very .hard
to distinguish from
the real ones which
the light makes. If '
we take a sheet of
gray or white paper ., .
and place upon it ,. .
a small piece of
orange-red paper,
orange-red s paper, FIG. 2. THE COLORED SHADOWS.
look intently at the
red paper for a few seconds and then sud- looked at it through a telescope or a pair of
denly take it away, we will see a patch of opera-glasses know that although it is then
a light-green color, which moves about as we magnified, it actually looks smaller than with
move our eyes, and soon fades away. A bit the naked eye. 'Those who know tell us that
of yellow paper gives us a blue patch, the big moon we see at the horizon is an illu-
green a violet red, and with a package C sion, and that while it actually is magnified by
of kindergarten color-papers to experi- refraction, it looks much larger because we see it
ment with, the reader will find that a long way off, through the trees, or over houses,
each one has its own unchanging or down the street, and comparing it with those
and especial successor when tried in objects of which we know the size, fancy it must
the same fashion. These after-colors a be very large because it is so far away; and
are the creations of our eyes, and are o that when up in the sky, or when seen through
not really where they seem to be. They an opera-glass, it seems nearer, and therefore
are quite as unreal as are other sorts looks smaller.
of ghosts. With a candle or lamp, a e a In Fig. 3, the row of dots between a and b
few pieces of colored glass, and a lead FIG. 3. makes that distance seem greater than the dis-
pencil, we can display some other curious tance between b and c, al-
fancies of the eyes by making what are called though upon measurement
colored shadows. Fig. 2 shows how it is you will find it to be just
done. Using red glass, the shadow of the equal. Fig. 4 does notlook
pencil upon the wall (a piece of white paper exactly square: the horizon-
is better) looks blue-green; -with blue glass, tallinesmakeitseemtoo tall.
yellow; with green glass, rose; and so on. It The artist was instructed
is hard to convince ourselves that the shadow to make the horizontal lines
is not actually of the color it seems to be, and in Figs. 5 and 6 parallel to FIG.
if I did not tell you that it was an illusion, each other, and no doubt he has done so, al-
you might never discover the fact. though those in Fig. 5 seem very far from it,
When we come to study the shapes and sizes and it is perfectly plain to the eye that the up-
of things, we find that the eyes are often per ones in Fig. 6 separate more at the middle






SEEING AND BELIEVING.


and that the lower ones come closer to-
gether there than at the ends; and if the
top of the page. is tipped away from you
so that you look obliquely down at it, these
appearances are all the more striking. Yet
if we turn the page about and look at the
drawings from the side, we see at once that
the artist has done his work truly, and that
it is our eyes that have been at fault. So,
in Fig. 7, the circle seems to dip in or flat-
ten at the corners of the square, yet it is
positively a true and uniform curve. In
Fig. 8 the line running upward on the right-
hand side of the black rectangle is the di-
rect continuation of one of the two lower
lines on the left. Everybody says that it


}///,,/////



////////////////

\ \\\\\y\\\ <^

^///// ////'/
///// /FIG. 5.
1FIG. 5.
THfmf


FIG. 6.
is with the upper one of these lines; and as
we examine it carefully, running the eye back
and forth so as to be sure, this certainly seems
to be true. But hold the figure so as to look
along the line as a
carpenter looks along
the edge of a board,
and it is surprising to
see how much we have
been mistaken.
IfI were to ask what
Fig. ii represented,
most persons would
say that it was a pic-
FIG. 7.
ture of a transparent
cube of which three faces were visible,- the
one toward you, the upper, and the left-hand FIG. 8.


one,- as is shown
in Fig. io. Some
other person looking
on might say, how-
ever, that it was a
Scube showing the
lower and the right-
hand faces, as shown
in Fig. 9; and upon
looking at it again,
sure enough, this
seems to be so; and
yet, while we still
look at it, it sudden-
ly changes, and once
more looks like Fig.
io. With a little
practice, we
discover that
we can make
it look either
way at pleas-
ure, though it
has an un-
comfortable
fashion of
turning about
of its own
accord. Gen-
erally we can
see it like Fig.
Io more eas-
ily, perhaps
because that


1 z


464


[APRIL,


L






SEEING AND BELIEVING.


465


is the way most real cubes appear as we look ference in length between the upper and lower
at them usually from above. So Fig. 12 we pair. After the guesses have'been made, mea-
can see either as a flight of steps leading up to sure them; it will be instructive.
the left, or as an overhanging or upside-down Now, we all want to know, of course, how


FIG. 9. FIG. 1O.


FIG. II.


stairway which we could climb only by stand-
ing upon our heads. It is a little hard to see
these two stairways, and you may succeed bet-
ter by turning the page around while looking
at the drawing. It is easy, sometimes, to see
objects that do not exist: thus, in Fig. 13, if
the page is tipped a little and held so that
the right eye looks along the line a b, and the


FIG. 12.

left along the line c d, both eyes being open
and looking at the point where the two lines
cross, a third line is seen standing right up from
the paper like a little rod or pin. Fig. 14,
when looked at with one eye from a point
where it can look along all of the lines without
moving the head,- that is, at a point where all
the lines would. meet if they were drawn long
enough,- shows a lot of black pins standing
upright as if stuck into the page.
In the picture at the end of this article, it
will be found interesting to let the spectators
guess which of the stones in the Magic Bridge
is longest, and also to estimate the precise dif-
VOL. XXIV.-59.


these curious illusions come about, and whether
there are others than those we have just seen.
Yes, there are many others, and men have
known them from very early times. In
ST. NICHOLAS for October, 1885, Mr. h d
Arlo Bates told how the Greek archi-
tects took advantage of these illusions
to improve the appearance of the tem-
ples; and it has lately been found
that the cathedral builders of the
Middle Ages also so arranged their
lines and curves as to deceive the
eye. On the next page, Figs. 15
and 16, copied from the article by a,
Mr. Bates, show how two lines of
the same length may be by branch- FIG. 13.
ing lines made to look quite unequal.; but it
is a great deal easier to see that they are


S I.14

FIG. 14.






SEEING AND BELIEVING.


FIG. 15.
illusions than to explain why we are deceived
in them. Even the wise men who have studied
them do not always agree in their explanations.
And then, to understand these explanations, we
have to know a great many things that are not
so interesting. Besides, what we need most of
all to know about them is the fact that they


FIG. 16.


exist, and that often things are not what they
seem," and that seeing ought not always to be
believing. Our eyes must be trained to beware
of tricks that may be played upon them, and
where our eyes deceive, our brains must help us
to find out the truth, even in the midst of
apparent error.


THE NEW UMBRELLA.

BY AGNES LEE.


OH, Ella !
With her first umbrella!
She walked abroad like any queen.
She held it proudly for display,
Admired its handle, stroked its sheen,
And never little girl more gay.


Dear Ella!
Such a wee umbrella!
One day upon the market-place
I met her; dripping were her curls.
She looked, despite her sunny face,,
The most forlorn of little girls.


"Why, Ella!
Where 's your new umbrella?"
Said I; "the storm has drenched your
hair!
Just see your frock! just see your hat!
And what is this you hug with care ?
A broom, a fiddle, or a cat?"

Oh, Ella!
With her first umbrella!
She looked at me and shyly spoke,
The rain-drops pelting on her yet:
"I have it here beneath my cloak,
Because, you see, it might get wet! "


466


T-. r \w& Amim k



























































Ib ;RM it
in
S. '



At~


S EN I .A : L:.\ it ,,:-i l t: Le a l:J .in.-nC the

S '' flksi I : 1 ''1 ri-ik -.r L.\n i -n rl'e r
in iH,.h I '.. lO n ntrl e r j ri L I n it'e ,' r 'l.e
it.- ., t ii,.l mn l 'i i i t ,. ll ,- l in -3ce o'. f i l -, i i r:. .iti-

,I :l. _' 1.ii l': !in tll.- r i ii .. i : -1 i. T .l i il IlS
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r s :" '"' .. t,,ti ,J ..... n.,t b,-. I =u i, : i,,rh i:' l.. l 'r J ll:, *ni l he
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i.-i- n a c I'iA 'c Q [ 11. I l l .1 *j II lh i
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: I r I. c r i r i r .. ii il l :ir t .' a ii. "

-n-1 1i 'AI iiL mr-'i I




,i: ,t .'r ii i i i. iii l ]i I i L -I l 'r .,i i i ii' iTi .,r.
e is %l.d lli ,. all b:u .,n .t .tl 1.:, kw L_ A [ 't :, i dS-
T289 A.D. there were four thousand looms kept busy; and Tripoli is still
d. Ind tli_ n I 1rth -1t .:,:.l :r o f -,i i. %I v,:r.- t!, f,, -
I,,Il. ._"f ii L ,-,ai,,,: e ,.tih,L. : ro i't, i1 -.
T h.l.,l_ it- p alin. .1,,I : r il .r t :e l,.-.u i,- ,:, l. -,!,-d ,, ,-u r

( hI i,[. e iF t,..F -, e I..I ,,:,t .,:, 7 i t, It, ,: i 1t i, n,, v"
seeins ahvays to have been connouted VVii th, h silklWoun. As far back as
1289 A. D. there were four thousand looms kept busy; and Tripoli is still







SILK AND CEDARS.


[APRIL,


Sr
-.~- r-


Z' **-'






r JF.
1J r.
~Y/ Q~t~ Q Ic a-..,


Sii
P9 1 4'4
4"u


S .. .. r, : I... :- .: the
i ',./ i-" ":.-r

S" '- ",.... .:. *,, .. l. ,"i..l,, -ll. J- =-! ,f ,., i i t,: I ,n k s in
.i ""- t m t.:.Lit r :.! iit: L. u t .. :.i in

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/ rl.i. i i.:.u t ir i Li.r l i, i : l 1 runi,- :i.: the
'Liu I tli F.4'7 .J l" i r .-I i: il, rises
i .'i, t 1.el,, ." the .:'.:, :. .L A r F ar r ith ,. i:,,l is a
*l l.. t .'i e '.l rt.- ti .|l [: 'i hi : t i. 1.i r of

r. ..: ti t,: .-,,ri_ .o n, :. : t ,.l: 1!,. -.r I ,+ ... l ,ich
.1 -I i r ml Iich
'S I. -, [te r
1-c -,urit., -" tl l. ,:,t i.-I : ,l l .'.1 .: r I .' i A after
n Ji!,: r .-rl t-. 1. i'I i .. ,. aen
S '., I, 'i r.:,' i l.. r : .. : i i- I h ,-,,, : h .'t :l in .1 a

" \\ 1 r o:..i. n i ii ri. -.- i :li- I i. ii.rly
l,::t n bi\ h f c!,, i i i. tl- : |-:,i t -O :l .. ,Iir th e
^ '" ,..*: ,. e'J iff- ,: ti-:- :i, .....e ..r l, ..,.,!. ler-
Slil:.- m r, -i .- .t r,:;l, : >i ir!,:h.iit l i.,:'ie ,:, ,::,rth
upon it. My horse, who was very fond of ad-
miring the scenery instead of paying attention
to his business, slipped just at this bad point,


468


5~6:. F

&;; .~~~~~~rI


L


- ,,i -,
- ',.,? .


I



I


C-7


N-?
Q^ '*'..'. _
'"--^"s-


y.~c Y. -~--rs*~I~R

., -~Rb
J~


. I T.. F






SILK AND CEDARS.


partly owing to the idiotic horseshoes used in
that country, which are simply flat plates of
iron put on cold. One, if not both, of his hind
legs went over the edge, and there was nothing
more substantial than air for a thousand feet
below. However, the wiry little beast scram-
bled cat-like up on the shelving ledge again;
but it was a narrow escape.
We are now approaching the region of the
silk-culture; and those step-like lines which we
saw from the ship's deck turn out to be little
hanging gardens. Wherever a handful of earth


get ready to spin their cocoons; but a second
crop comes on later, and a curious use is made
of that. The tree-owner purchases one of those
queer, big-tailed Syrian sheep, the tail of
which weighs twenty pounds when at the full
maturity of its fatness; and then a strange
stuffing process begins, not unlike the fattening
of the Strasburg geese. When the sheep can eat
no more, the women of the house feed it; and
it is no uncommon sight to see a woman going
out to make an afternoon call, leading her sheep
by a string, and carrying a basket of mulberry


. : .


THE GROVE OF CEDARS OF LEBANON.


can be made to rest upon a ledge, there a mul-
berry plant grows. It is a picturesque and
thrilling sight to see a boy lowered by a rope
over the precipice, carrying a big basket of
earth and cuttings of mulberry twigs to plant
in his hanging garden. The crop of leaves,
fodder for the worms, is gathered in the same
way. By such patient and dangerous industry
have these hardy mountaineers been able to
make their wilderness of rock blossom into
brightly-colored silks. Not a single leaf is left
on the trees by the time the voracious worms


leaves on her arm. Having arrived at her
friend's house, she squats on the ground, rolls
a ball of mulberry leaves in her right hand, and
slips it into the sheep's mouth, then works the
sheep's jaw up and down with the other hand
till she thinks the mouthful has been chewed
enough, when she thrusts it down the throat
of the unfortunate animal. The funny part of
the business is that probably half a dozen
gossips of the village are seated around the
yard, all engaged at the same operation. Of
course the sheep get immensely fat, and that is


1897.]


469






SILK AND CEDARS.


the object; for at the killing-time the fat is tried
out and put into jars, as meat for the winter.
As the time approaches for the silkworm to
hatch out of the egg, the family move out of
the house, and camp under the trees, giving up
the entire establishment to the worms, after
having placed the eggs on shelves made of a
reed like bamboo. At first the young worms
are fed on finely chopped leaves; but as they
grow larger the leaves need only be broken in
two. The people have to feed and watch the
worms night and day, or they wander in search
of food and be lost; and in the silence of the
night the sound of the worms feeding is like a
gently falling rain.
The worms fast three or four times during
this period, and about twenty-four hours is the
length of each fast. A curious feature about
their fast is their posture; they assume the atti-
tude of a cobra snake about to strike, and re-
main rigidly fixed in that position for the en-
tire period. When they are ready to spin, small
branches are placed on the shelves, and as the
cocoons are formed upon them the dead twigs
seem to bear golden fruit. When the worms
get through that part of the business the neigh-
bors are called in something as to an old-
fashioned New England apple-paring bee. They
call it "qtaf" in Arabic- that is "picking";
and soon you see piles of pale-green, pure-white,
and golden-yellow cocoons heaped upon the
floor. Later they may be spun into hanks; but
usually the cocoons are sent down the moun-
tains to Tripoli or Damascus, and after their
thirty or forty days of toil, they too often have
to sell the produce for next to nothing, as the
Chinese are always ready to undersell them.
Another curious use Mr. Silkworm is put to
is to soak him in vinegar for some hours, after
which he is drawn out into so-called catgut"
to make snells or leaders for fish-hooks.
Although from our camping-ground in this
village of silk-spinners the grove of cedars
looked as if it were within an hour's ride,
there was a long, weary day's journey before
we reached them. Every girl and boy of the
Christian world has heard and read, over and
over again, of the Cedars of Lebanon "; but
very few have any idea of the locality and sur-
roundings of the famous grove. It is a popu-


lar error, by the way, to suppose that there are
no other cedars remaining besides this group
at the head of the Wady" (valley or cation)
Kadisha. There are, to my knowledge, ten
other groves, some numbering thousands of
trees. This particular group that we are about
to visit is called by the Arabs by a name which
means, Cedars of the Lord." They number
about four hundred trees, among them a circle
of gigantic fellows that are called by the natives
"The Twelve Apostles," upon the strength of
an old tradition that Jesus and his disciples
having come to this spot and left their staves
standing in the ground, these staves sprouted
into cedar-trees.
There is every reason to suppose that in the
time of King Solomon these scattered groves
were part of an enormous unbroken forest,
extending the entire length of the Lebanon
range of mountains, about one hundred miles,
running nearly parallel with the Mediterranean
shore from a little below Beirut. The summits
of the range are from fifteen to twenty miles
from the coast.
The Lebanon that is, the White "- does
not derive its name from glittering snow-peaks,
but from the white limestone cliffs of its summits.
The first historical mention of the trees is in
the Bible (2 Sam. v. iI): "And Hiram king
of Tyre sent messengers to David, and cedar
trees, and carpenters, and masons: and they
built David an house."
From that day to this the people have been
almost as reckless and wasteful of these noble
giants of the mountains as our own people are
of these cedars' first cousins, the redwood trees
of the California coast-range. As we approach
the grove, which stands upon the top of a small
hill, the foliage is almost black against the
snow-covered crags of Dahr-el-Kadib, which
rears its highest peak over ten thousand feet
above the sea.
There is a Maronite chapel in the grove, its
patriarch claiming the sole right to the sacred
trees; and, luckily, the superstition with which
the trees have been surrounded has been their
salvation. All the cedars of Lebanon would
have been demolished for firewood years ago
were not the people threatened with dire calam-
ity should they take a single stick.


470


[APRIL,






SILK AND CEDARS.'


From the few noble trees that remain strug-
gling for existence in these snow-clad mountains,
it is very hard to picture the great unbroken
forest David and Solomon knew. But even
this small grove, remaining hidden away in their
barren mountain-tops, figures prominently in
history, poetry, art, and romance. There is
probably not in the world another group of
trees that has the same rare interest.
The cones of the Lebanon cedar are unlike
anything I know in this country. They are


about the size and form of a well-grown Spitz-
enberg apple, and almost as smooth. The full-
grown one that I have drawn on page 467 is as
smooth and hard as it was the day I gathered it,
fifteen years ago.
Those wonderfully beautiful trees will bear
transplanting into any mild climate. Indeed, I
have seen much finer specimens in England
than in Syria. There is one in Richmond
Park, the great branches of which cover the
better part of a half-acre of ground.


ON THE FERRY.

BY M. L. VAN VORST.


MOONLIGHT, starlight -
How many lights there be!
Little swinging lanterns
On the ships at sea.
Green lights, yellow lights,
Crimson lights aglow -
I see them shine on winter nights
In mist and snow.


Big boats, little boats-
How many boats there be!
Little swinging life-boats
On the ships at sea.
I go on the ferry-boat,
Mother, goes with me;
I wish some day that we would float
Far out to sea!


MASTER SKYLARK.

By JOHN BENNETT.


[Begun in the November number.]

CHAPTER XVII.

CARE'S OFFER.

NEXT morning Carew donned his plum-col-
ored cloak, and with Nick's hand held tightly
in his own went out of the door and down the
steps into a drifting fog which filled the street,
the bandy-legged man with the ribbon in his
ear following close upon their heels.
People passed them like shadows in the mist,
and all the houses were a blur until they came
into a wide, open place where the wind blew
free above a wall with many great gates.
In the middle of this open place a huge gray
building stood, staring out over the housetops-


a great cathedral, wonderful and old. Its walls
were dark with time and smoke and damp, and
the lofty tower that rose above it was in part
but a hollow shell split by lightning and black-
ened by fire. But crowded between its massive
buttresses were booths and chapmen's stalls;
against its hoary side a small church leaned
like a child against a mother's breast; and in
and around about it eddied a throng of men
like ants upon a busy hill.
All around the outer square were shops with
gilded fronts and most amazing signs: golden
angels with outstretched wings, tiger heads,
bears, brazen serpents, and silver cranes; and
in and out of the shop-doors darted apprentices
with new-bound books and fresh-printed slips;
for this was old St. Paul's, the meeting-place of






SILK AND CEDARS.'


From the few noble trees that remain strug-
gling for existence in these snow-clad mountains,
it is very hard to picture the great unbroken
forest David and Solomon knew. But even
this small grove, remaining hidden away in their
barren mountain-tops, figures prominently in
history, poetry, art, and romance. There is
probably not in the world another group of
trees that has the same rare interest.
The cones of the Lebanon cedar are unlike
anything I know in this country. They are


about the size and form of a well-grown Spitz-
enberg apple, and almost as smooth. The full-
grown one that I have drawn on page 467 is as
smooth and hard as it was the day I gathered it,
fifteen years ago.
Those wonderfully beautiful trees will bear
transplanting into any mild climate. Indeed, I
have seen much finer specimens in England
than in Syria. There is one in Richmond
Park, the great branches of which cover the
better part of a half-acre of ground.


ON THE FERRY.

BY M. L. VAN VORST.


MOONLIGHT, starlight -
How many lights there be!
Little swinging lanterns
On the ships at sea.
Green lights, yellow lights,
Crimson lights aglow -
I see them shine on winter nights
In mist and snow.


Big boats, little boats-
How many boats there be!
Little swinging life-boats
On the ships at sea.
I go on the ferry-boat,
Mother, goes with me;
I wish some day that we would float
Far out to sea!


MASTER SKYLARK.

By JOHN BENNETT.


[Begun in the November number.]

CHAPTER XVII.

CARE'S OFFER.

NEXT morning Carew donned his plum-col-
ored cloak, and with Nick's hand held tightly
in his own went out of the door and down the
steps into a drifting fog which filled the street,
the bandy-legged man with the ribbon in his
ear following close upon their heels.
People passed them like shadows in the mist,
and all the houses were a blur until they came
into a wide, open place where the wind blew
free above a wall with many great gates.
In the middle of this open place a huge gray
building stood, staring out over the housetops-


a great cathedral, wonderful and old. Its walls
were dark with time and smoke and damp, and
the lofty tower that rose above it was in part
but a hollow shell split by lightning and black-
ened by fire. But crowded between its massive
buttresses were booths and chapmen's stalls;
against its hoary side a small church leaned
like a child against a mother's breast; and in
and around about it eddied a throng of men
like ants upon a busy hill.
All around the outer square were shops with
gilded fronts and most amazing signs: golden
angels with outstretched wings, tiger heads,
bears, brazen serpents, and silver cranes; and
in and out of the shop-doors darted apprentices
with new-bound books and fresh-printed slips;
for this was old St. Paul's, the meeting-place of






MASTER SKYLARK.


London town, and in Paul's Yard the printers
and the bookmen dealt.
With a deal of elbowing the master-player
came up the broad steps into the cathedral, and
down the aisle to the pillars where the mer-
chant-tailors stood with table-books in hand,
and there ordered a brand-new suit of clothes
for Nick of old Roger Shearman, the best cloth-
cutter in Threadneedle street.
While they were deep in silk and silver
thread, Haerlem linen, and Leyden camelot,
Nick stared about him half aghast; for it was
to him little less than monstrous to see a church
so thronged with merchants plying their trades
as if the place were no more sacred than a
booth in the public square.
The long nave of the cathedral was crowded
with mercers from Cheapside, drapers from
Throgmorton street, stationers from Ludgate
Hill, and goldsmiths from Foster Lane, hats
on, loud-voiced, and using the very font itself
for a counter. By the columns beyond, sly,
foxy-faced lawyers hobnobbed; and on long
benches by the wall, cast-off serving-men, var-
lets, grooms, pastry-bakers, and pages sat, wait-
ing to be hired by some new master. Besides
these who came on business there was a host
of gallants in gold-laced silk and velvet prom-
enading up and down the aisle, with no busi-
ness there at all but to show their faces and
their clothes. And all about were solemn
shrines and monuments and tombs, and over-
head a splendid window burned like a wheel
of fire in the eastern wall.
While Nick stared, speechless, a party of
the Admiral's players came strolling by, their
heads half hidden in their huge starched ruffs,
and with prodigious swords that would have
dragged along the ground had they not been
cocked up behind so fiercely in the air. Seeing
Master Carew and the boy, they stopped in
passing to greet them gaily.
''aster Heywood was there, and bowed to
Nick with a kindly smile. His companion was
a handsome, proud-mouthed man with a blue,
smooth-shaven face and a jet-black periwig.
Him Carew drew aside and spoke with in an
earnest undertone. As he talked, the other
began to stare at Nick as if he were some
curious thing in a cage.


"Upon my soul," said Carew, "ye never
heard the like of it. He hath a voice as sweet
and clear as if Puck had burst a honey-bag in
his throat."
No doubt," replied the other carelessly;
"and all the birds will hide their heads when
he begins to sing. But we don't want him,
Carew not if he had a voice like Miriam
the Jew. Henslowe has just bought little Jem
Bristow of Will Augusten for eight pound ster-
ling, and business is too bad to warrant any
more."
"Who spoke of selling ?" said Carew,
sharply. "Don't flatter your chances so, Mas-
ter Alleyn. I would n't sell the boy for a world
full of Jem Bristows. Why, his mouth is a
mint where common words are coined into
gold! Sell him ? I think I see myself in Bed-
lam for a fool! Nay, Master Alleyn, what I
am coming at is this: I '11 place him at the
Rose, to do his turn in the play with the rest
of us, or out of it alone, as ye choose, for
one fourth of the whole receipts over and above
my old share in the venture. Do ye take me?"
"Take you ? One fourth the whole receipts ?
Zounds, man, do ye think we have a spigot in
El Dorado ?"
"Tush! Master Alleyn, don't make a poor
mouth; you 're none so needy. You and
Henslowe have made a heap of money out
of us all."
"And what of that? Yesterday's butter
won't smooth to-day's bread. 'T is absurd of
you, Carew, to ask one fourth and leave all the
risk on us, with the-outlook as it is! Here's
that fellow Langley has built a new play-house
in Paris Garden, nearer to the landing than we
are, and is stealing our business most scurvily!"
Carew shrugged his shoulders.
"And what 's more, the very comedy for
which Ben Jonson left us, because we would not
put it on, has been taken up by the Burbages on
Will Shakspere's say-so, and is running famously
at the Curtain."
I told you so, Master Alleyn, when the fel-
low was fresh from the Netherlands," said
Carew; "but your ears were plugged with your
own conceit. Young Jonson is no flatfish, if
he did lay brick; he 's a plum worth any-
body's picking."


472










--'*


1T

-j ;


I? v
-sy^9~


.


_1A' P'


*I...
I


-J


"THIS WAS OLD
VOL. XXIV.-60.


ST. PAUL'S, THE MEETING-PLACE OF LONDON TOWN."


-- I.


-"
D

j
E


.^






MASTER SKYLARK.


"But, plague take it, Carew, those Burbages
have all the plums! Since they weaned Will
Shakspere from us everything has gone wrong.
Kemp has left us; old John Lowin, too; and
now the Lord Mayor and Privy Council have
soured on the play again and forbidden all
playing on the Bankside, outside the City or no."
Carew whistled softly to himself.
"And since my Lord Cham-
berlain has been patron of the
Burbages he will not so much
as turn a hand to revive the
old game of bull- and bear-bait-
ing, and Phil and I have kept
the Queen's bulldogs going on
a twelvemonth now at our own
expense--a pretty canker on
our profits! Why, Carew, as
Will Shakspere used to say,
One woe doth tread the
other's heels, so fast they fol- .
low!' And what's to do?"
"What 's to do?" said Ca-
rew. "Why, I 've told ye
what 's to do. Ye 've heard
Will say, There is a tide leads
on to fortune if ye take it at '*.' .
the flood'? Well, Master Al-
leyn, here 's the tide, and at A
the flood. I have offered you
an argosy. Will ye sail or stick
in the mud? Ye 'll never have
such a chance again. Come,
one fourth over my old share,
and I will fill your purse so q'i
full of gold that it will gape '- '
like a stuffed toad. His is the ll
sweetest skylark voice that ever
sugared ears!"-
"But, man, man, one fourth!" '
"Better one fourth than lose
it all," said Carew. "But,
pshaw! Master Ned Alleyn, "DICCON HAD o
I '11 not beg a man to swim
that 's bent on drowning! We will be at the
play-house this afternoon; mayhap thou 'lt have
thought better of it by then." With a curt
bow he was off through the crowd, Nick's
hand in his own clenched very tight.
They had hard work getting down the steps,


for two hot-headed gallants were quarreling
there as to who should come up first, and there
was a great, press. But Carew scowled and
showed his teeth, and clenched his poniard-hilt
so fiercely that the commoners fell away and
let them down.
Nick's eyes were hungry for the printers'
stalls where ballad-sheets were sold for a penny,


KI


*1 / ,

OFTEN MADE NICK WHISTLES FROM THE WILLOWS ALONG THE
AVON, WHEN NICK WAS, A TODDLER."

and where the books were piled along the
shelves until he wondered if all London were
turned printer. He looked about to see if he
might chance upon Diccon Field; but Carew
came so quickly through the crowd that Nick
had not time to recognize Diccon if he had


474


[APRIL,






MASTER SKYLARK.


been there. Diccon had often made Nick
whistles from the pollard willows along the
Avon below the tannery when Nick was a tod-
dler in smocks, and the lad thought he would
like to see him before going back to Stratford.
Then, too, his mother had always liked Diccon
Field, and would be glad to hear from him.
At thought of his mother he gave a happy little
skip; and as they turned into Paternoster Row,
" Master Carew," said he, "how soon shall I go
home ?"
Carew walked a little faster.
There had arisen a sound of shouting and a
trampling of feet. The constables had taken a
purse-cutting thief, and were coming up to the
Newgate prison with a great rabble behind
them. The fellow's head was broken, and his
haggard face was all screwed up with pain;
but that did not stop the boys from hooting at
him, and asking in mockery how he thought he
would like to be hanged and to dance on no-
thing at Tyburn Hill.
"Did ye hear me, Master Carew? asked
Nick.
The master-player stepped aside a moment
into a doorway to let the mob go by, and then
strode on.
Nick tried again: "I pray thee, sir -"
Do not pray me," said Carew sharply; "I
am no Indian idol."
But, good Master Carew-"
Nor call me good I am not good."
"But, Master Carew," faltered 'Nick, with a
sinking sensation around his heart, "when will
ye leave me go home ?"
The master-player did not reply, but strode
on rapidly, gnawing his mustache.

CHAPTER XVIII.
MASTER HEYWOOD PROTESTS.
IT was a cold, raw day. All morning long
the sun had shone through the choking fog as
the candle-flame through the dingy yellow horn
of an old stable-lantern. But at noon a wind
sprang up that drove the mist through London
streets in streaks and strings mixed with smoke
and the reek of steaming roofs. Now and then
the blue gleamed through in ragged patches
overhead; so that all the town turned out on


pleasure bent, not minding if it rained stewed
turnips, so they saw the sky.
But the fog still sifted through the streets,
and all was damp and sticky to the touch, so
Cicely was left behind to loneliness and disap-
pointment.
Nick and the master-player came down Lud-
gate Hill to Blackfriars landing in a stream
of merrymakers, high and low, rich and poor,
faring forth to London's greatest thoroughfare,
the Thames; and as the river and the noble
mansions along the Strand came into view,
Nick's heart beat fast. It was a sight to stir
the pulse.
Far down the stream, the grim old Tower
loomed above the drifting mist; and, higher
up, old London Bridge, lined with tall houses,
stretched from shore to shore. There were
towers on it with domes and gilded vanes, and
the river foamed and roared under it, strangled
by the piers. From the dock at St. Mary
Averies by the Bridge to Barge-house stairs,
the landing-stages all along the river-bank were
thronged with boats; and to and fro across the
stream, wherries, punts, barges, and water-craft
of every kind were plying busily. In middle
stream sail-boats tugged along with creaking
sweeps, or brown-sailed trading-vessels slipped
away to sea, with costly freight for Russia, Tur-
key, and the Levant. And amid the countless
water-craft a multitude of stately swans swept
here and there like snowflakes on the dusky
river.
Nick sniffed at the air, for it was full of
strange odors -the smell of breweries, of
pitchy oakum, Norway tar, spices from hot
countries, resinous woods, and chilly whiffs from
the water; and as they came out along the
wharf, there were brown-faced, hard-eyed sail-
ors there, who had been to the New World -
wild fellows with silver rings in their ears and
a swaggering stagger in their petticoated legs.
Some of them held short, crooked brown tubes
between their lips, and puffed great clouds of
pale brown smoke from their noses in a most
amazing way.
Broad-beamed Dutchmen, too, were there,
and swarthy Spanish renegades, with sturdy
craftsmen of the City guilds and stalwart yeo-
men of the guard in the Queen's rich livery.


475






MASTER SKYLARK.


But ere Nick had fairly begun to stare, con-
fused by such a rout, Carew had hailed a
wherry, and they were half-way over to the
Southwark side.
Landing amid a deafening din of watermen
bawling hoarsely for a place along the Paris
Garden stairs, the
master-player hur-
ried up the lane
through the noisy
crowd. Some were


NICK AND MASTER CARE
faring afoot into Surrey, and some to green St.
George's Fields to buy fresh fruit and milk from
the farm-houses and to picnic on the grass.
Some turned aside to the Falcon Inn for a bit
of cheese and ale, and others to the play-
houses beyond the trees and fishing-ponds.
And coming down from the inn they met a
crowd of players, with Master Tom Heywood


at their head, frolicking and cantering along
like so many overgrown school-boys.
"So we are to have thee with us awhile? "
said Heywood, and put his arm around Nick's
shoulders as they trooped along.
Awhile, sir, yes," replied Nick, nodding;
"but I am going home soon, Master Carew
says."
"Carew," said Heywood, suddenly turning,
"how can ye have the
heart ? "
"Come, Heywood,"
quoth the master-


-AT BLACKFRIARS LANDING.


player curtly, though his whole face colored
up, "I have heard enough of this. Will ye
please to mind your own affairs?"
The writer of comedies lifted his brows.
"Very well," he answered quietly; but, lad,
this much for thee," said he, turning to Nick," if
ever thou dost need a friend, Tom Heywood 's
one will never speak thee false."


476


[APRIL,






MASTER SKYLARK.


Sir!" cried Carew, clapping his hand upon
his poniard.
Heywood looked up steadily. How?
Wilt thou quarrel with me, Carew? What ugly
poison hath been filtered through thy wits ?
Why, thou art even falser than I thought!
Quarrel with me, who took thy new-born child
from her dying mother's arms when thou wert
fast in Newgate gaol ?"
Carew's angry face turned sickly gray. He
made as if to speak, but no sound came. He
Shut his eyes and pushed out his hand in the air
as if to stop the voice of the writer of comedies.
Come," said Heywood, with deep feeling;
"thou canst not quarrel with me yet nay,
though thou dost try thy very worst. It would
be a sorry story for my soul or thine to tell to
hers."
Carew groaned. The rest of the players had
passed on, and the three stood there alone.
"Don't, Tom, don't!" he cried.
"Then how, can ye have the heart?" the
other asked again.
The master-player lifted up his head, and his
lips were trembling. "'T is not the heart,
Tom," he cried bitterly, "upon my word and
on the remnant of mine honour 1 'T is the head
which doeth this. For, Tom, I cannot leave
him go. Why, Tom, hast thou not heard him
sing ? A voice which would call back the very
dead that we have loved if they might only
hear. Why, Tom, 't is worth a thousand pound!
How can I leave him go? "
Oh, fie for shame upon the man.I took thee
for!" cried Heywood.
"But, Tom," cried Carew brokenly, "look
it straightly in the face; I am no such player
as I was,- this reckless life hath done the
trick for me, Tom,- and here is ruin staring
Henslowe and Alleyn in the eye. They can-
not keep me master if their luck doth not
change soon; and Burbage would not have me
as a gift. So, Tom, what is there left to do ?
How can I shift without the boy ? Nay, Tom,
it will not serve. There 's Cicely -not one
penny laid by for her against a rainy day;
-and I '11 be gone, Tom, I '11 be gone -it is not
morning all day long we cannot last forever.
Nay, I cannot leave him go!"
But, sir," broke in Nick wretchedly, hold-


ing fast to Heywood's arm, "ye said that I
should go!"
Said!" cried the master-player, with a bit-
ter smile; "why, Nick, I 'd say ten times more
in one little minute just to hear thee sing than
I would stand to in a month of Easters after-
ward. Come, Nick, be fair. I '11 feed thee
full and dress thee well and treat thee true -
all for that song of thine."
But, sir, my mother -"
Why, Carew, hath the boy a mother, too?"
cried the writer of comedies.
Now, Heywood, on thy soul, no more of
this! cried the master-player with quivering
lips. Ye will make me out no man, or else a
fiend. I cannot let the fellow go -I will not
let him go." His hands were twitching, and
his face was pale, but his lips were set deter-
minedly. "And, Tom, there's that within me
will not abide even thy pestering. So come, no
more of it! Upon my soul, I sour over soon! "'
So they came on gloomily past the bear-
houses, and the Queen's kennels. The river
wind was full of the wild smell of the bears;
but what were bears to poor Nick, whose last
faint hope that the master-player meant to keep
his word and send him home again was gone?
They passed the Paris Gardens and the tall
round play-house that Francis Langley had just
built. A blood-red banner flaunted overhead,
with a large white swan painted thereon; but
Nick saw neither the play-house nor the swan;
he saw only, deep in his heart, a little gable-roof
among old elms, with blue smoke curling softly
up among the rippling leaves; an open door
with tall pink hollyhocks beside it; and in the
door, watching for him till he came again, his
own mother's face. He began to cry silently.
Nay, Nick, my lad, don't cry," said Hey-
wood gently; "'t will only make bad matters
worse. Never is a weary while; but the long-
est lane will turn at last: some day thou 'It find
thine home again all in the twinkling of an eye.
Why, Nick, 't is England still, and thou an
Englishman. Come, give the world as good as
it can send."
Nick raised his head again, and throwing the
hair back from his eyes, walked stoutly along,
though the tears still trickled down his cheeks.
Sing thou my songs," said Heywood heart-


477


,897.]






MASTER SKYLARK.


ily, "and I will be thy friend-let this be thine
earnest." As he spoke he slipped upon the
boy's finger a gold ring with a green stone in it
cut with a tall tree: this was his seal.
They had now come through the garden to
the Rose Theatre where the Lord Admiral's
company played; and Carew was himself again.
Come, Nicholas," said he half jestingly, be
done with thy doleful dumps care killed a cat,
they say, lad. Why, if thy hateful looks could
stab, I 'd be a dead man forty times. Come,
cheer up, lad, that I may know thou lovest
me."
But I do na love thee! cried Nick indig-
nantly.
"Tut! Do not be so dour. Thou 'lt soon
be envied by ten thousand men. Come, don't
make a face at thy good fortune as though it
were a tripe fried in tar. Come, lad, be pleased;
thou 'It be the pet of every high-born dame
in London town."
I 'd rather be my mother's boy," Nick an-
swered simply.
CHAPTER XIX.
THE ROSE PLAY-HOUSE.
THE play-house was an eight-sided, three-
storied, tower-like building of oak and plastered
lath, upon a low foundation of yellow brick.
Two outside stairways ran around the wall, and
the roof was of bright red English tiles with a
blue lead gutter at the eaves. There was a lit-
tle turret, from the top of which a tall ash stave
went up; and on the stave, whenever there was
to be a play, there floated a great white flag on
which was a crimson rose with a golden heart,
just like the one that Nick with such delight
had seen come up the Oxford road a few short
days before.
Under the stairway was a narrow -door,
marked For the Playeres Onelie"; and in the
doorway stood a shrewd-faced, common-looking
man, writing upon a tablet which he held in
his hand. There was a case of quills at his
side, with one of which he was scratching bus-
ily, now and then prodding the ink-horn at his
girdle. He held his tongue in his cheek, and
moved his head about as the pen formed the
letters: he was no expert penman, this Phil
Henslowe, the stager of plays.


He looked up as they came to the step.
"A poor trip, Carew," said he, running his fin-
ger down the column of figures he was adding.
The play was hardly worth the candle -
cleared but five pound; and then, after I had
paid the carman three shilling fip to bring the
stuff down from the City, 't was lost in the river
from the barge at Paul's wharf! A good two
pound."
"Hard luck !" said Carew.
"Hard? Adamantine, I say! Why, 't is
very stones for luck, and the whole road rocky!
Here 's Burbage, Condell, and Will Shakspere
ha' rebuilt Blackfriars playhouse in famous
shape; and, marry, where are we ?"
Nick started.- An idea came creeping into
his head. Will Shakspere had married his mo-
ther's own cousin, Anne Hathaway of Shottery;
and he had often heard his mother say that
Master Shakspere had ever been her own good
friend when they were young.
"He and Jonson be thick as thieves," said
Henslowe; "and Chettle says that Will hath
near done the book of a new play for the au-
tumn-a master fine thing!--'Romulus and
Juliana,' or something of that Italian sort, to fol-
low Ben Jonson's comedy. Ned Alleyn played
a sweet fool about Ben's comedy. Called it
monstrous bad; and now it has taken the money
out of our mouths to the tune of nine pound
six the day and here, while ye were gone, I
ha' played my Lord of Pembroke's men in
your Robin Hood,' Heywood, to scant twelve
shilling in the house!"
Heywood flushed.
"Nay, Tom,- don't be nettled; 't is not
the fault of thy play. There 's naught will
serve. We 've tried old Marlowe and Robin
Greene, Peele, Nash, and all the rest; but,
what! they will not do-'t is Shakspere, Shak-
spere; our City flat-caps will ha' nothing but
Shakspere "
Nick listened eagerly. Master Will Shak-
spere must indeed be somebody in London
town! He stared across into the drifting cloud
of mist and smoke which hid the city like a
pall, and wondered how and where, in that
terrible hive of more than a hundred thousand
men, he could find one man.
I tell thee, Tom Heywood, there 's some


478


[APRIL,






MASTER SKYLARK.


magic in the fellow, or my name 's not Hens-
lowe! cried the manager. His very words
bewitch one's wits as nothing else can do.
Why, I 've tried them with Pierce Penniless,'
'Groat's Worth of Wit,' Friar Bacon,' Or-
lando,' and the Battle of Alcazar.' Why, tush!
they will not even listen! And here I 've put
Martin Gosset into purple and gold, and Jemmy
Donstall into a peach-colored gown laid down
with silver-gilt, for' Volteger'; and what? Why,
we play to empty stools; and the rascals owe
me for those costumes yet sixty shillings full!
A murrain on Burbage and Will Shakspere too!
-but I wish we had him back again. We 'd
make their old Blackfriars sick!" He shook
his fist at a great gray pile of buildings that
rose above the rest out of the fog by the land-
ing-place beyond the river.
Nick stared. That the play-house of Mas-
ter Shakspere and the Burbages? Will Shak-
spere playing there, just across the river ? Oh,
if Nick could only find him, he would not let the
son of his wife's own cousin be stolen away!
Nick looked around quickly.
The play-house stood a bowshot from the
river, in the open fields. There was a moated
manor-house near by, and beyond it a little
stream with some men fishing. Between the
play-house and the Thames were gardens and
trees and a thin fringe of buildings along the
bank by the landings. It was not far, and
there were places where one could get a boat
every fifty yards or so at the Bankside.
But Come in, come in," said Henslowe.
Growling never fed a dog; and we must be
doing."
Go ahead, Nick," said Carew, pushing him
by the shoulder, and they all went in. The
door opened on a flight of stairs leading to
the lowest gallery at the right of the stage,
where the orchestra sat. A man was tuning up
a viol as they came in.
"I want you to hear this boy sing," said
Carew to Henslowe. 'T is the best thing
ye ever lent ear to."
"Oh, this is the boy ? said the manager,
staring at Nick. "Why, Alleyn told me he was
a country gawk!"
"He lied, then," said Carew very shortly.
"'T was cheaper than the truth at my price.


There, Nick, go look about the place--we
have business."
Nick went slowly along the gallery. His
hands were beginning to tremble as he put
them out touching the stools. Along the rail
were ornamental columns which supported the
upper galleries and looked like beautiful blue-
veined white marble; but when he took hold
of them to steady himself he found they were
only painted wood.
There were two galleries above. They ran
all around the inside of the building, like the
porches of the inn at Coventry, and he could
see them across the house. There were no
windows in the gallery where he was, but there
were some in the second one. They looked
high. He went on around the gallery until he
came to some steps going down into 'the open
space in the center of the building. The stage
was already set up on the trestles, and the
carpenters were putting a shelter-roof over it
on copper-gilt pillars; for it was beginning to
drizzle, and the middle of the play-house was
open to the sky.
The spectators were already coming into the
pit at a penny apiece, although the play would
not begin until early evening. Those for the
galleries paid another penny to a man in a red
cloak at the foot of the stairs where Nick was
standing. There was a great uproar at the en-
trance. Some apprentices had caught a cut-
purse in the crowd, and were beating him un-
mercifully. Every one pushed and shoved
about, cursing the thief, and those near enough
kicked and struck him.
Nick looked back. Carew and the manager
had gone into the tiring-room behind the stage.
He took hold of the side-rail and started down
the steps. The man in the red cloak looked
up. Go back there," said he sharply; there's
enough down here now." Nick went on around
the gallery.
At the back of the stage were two doors for
the players, and between them hung a painted
cloth or arras behind which the prompter stood.
Over these doors were two plastered rooms,
twopenny private boxes for gentlefolk. In one
of them were three young men and a beautiful
girl, wonderfully dressed. The men were speak-
ing to her, but she looked down at Nick in-


479






MASTER SKYLARK.


stead. "What a pretty boy!" she said, and
tossed him a flower that one of the men had
just given her. It fell at Nick's feet. He
started back, looking up. The girl smiled, so


"NICK PUT ONE LEG OVER THE SILL AND LOOKED BACK."
he took off his cap and bowed; but the men
looked sour.
At the side of the stage was a screen with-
long leather fire-buckets and a pole-ax hanging
upon it, and behind it was a door through
which Nick saw the river and the gray walls of
the old Dominican friary. As he came down


to it, some one thrust out a staff and barred the
way. It was the bandy-legged man with the
ribbon in his ear. Nick looked out longingly;
it seemed so near!
Master Carew saith thou art not to stir out-
side dost hear ? said the bandy-legged man.
"Ay," said Nick, and turned back.
There was a narrow stairway leading to the
second gallery. He went up softly. There
was no one in the gallery, and there was a win-
dow on the side next to the river; he had seen
it from below. He went toward it slowly that
he might not arouse suspicion. It was above
his head.
There were stools for hire standing near. He
brought one and set it under the window. It
stood unevenly upon the floor, and made a
wabbling noise. He was afraid some one would
hear him; but the apprentices in the pit were
rattling dice, and two or three gentlemen's
pages were wrangling for the best places on
the platform; while, to add to the general riot,
two young gallants had brought gamecocks
and were fighting them in one corner, amid
such a whooping and swashing' that one could
hardly have heard the skies fall.
A printer's man was bawling, "Will ye buy
a new book ? and the fruit-sellers, too, were
raising such a cry of "Apples, pears, nuts, cakes,
and ale!" that the little noise Nick might
make would be lost in the wild confusion.
Master Carew and the manager had not come
out of the tiring-room. Nick got up on the
stool and looked out. It was not very far to
the ground not so far as from the top of the
big hay-cock in Master John Combe's field
from which he had often jumped.
The sill was just breast-high when he stood
upon the stool. Putting his hands upon it, he
gave a little spring, and balanced on his arms
a moment. Then he put one leg over the
windowsill and looked back. No one was-
paying the slightest attention to him. Over
all the noise he could hear the man tuning.
the viol. Swinging himself out slowly and.
silently, with his toes against the wall to steady
him, he hung down as far as he could, gave a
little push away from the house with his feet,
caught a quick breath, and dropped.
continued )


480











THE LIGHTS THAT GUIDE IN THE NIGHT.


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


WHEN ships are sailing upon the ocean the
lights of heaven are their guides. Even in the
dark ages, when the compass and sextant were
unknown instruments, the seemingly motionless
pole-star hung like a beacon light in the north-
ern heavens, and the rising and setting of the
sun and stars distinguished the east from the
west. When, however, ships come near the
land the lights of heaven are not sufficient
safely to guide them. Rocks lie in their paths
unseen in the night; reefs and shoals spread
under, the water; while unsuspected currents
sweep the frail craft all blindly upon these
dangers.
Nevertheless, ships were sailed along dan-
gerous coasts for centuries before a plain sys-
tem of marking dangerous places was invented.
The early mariners were bold and reckless
rovers, more than half pirates, who seldom
owned a rood of the coasts along which they
sailed, and could not have established lights
and landmarks on them had they cared to do
so. The rude beginning, then, of a system of
lighthouses was when the merchants with whom
the reckless mariners traded in those dark ages
built beacons near the harbor mouths to guide
the ships into port by day, and lighted fires for
their guidance at night. As such a harbor-
guide had to be a sure landmark in the day-
time and a light by night, it soon took on a
settled shape--a tower on which could be
built a fire; and such a tower was usually
built of stone.
This method of guiding ships into the ports
which they sought was scarcely established be-
fore human wickedness used it as a means for
their destruction. Bands of robbers, or, as they
came to be called, "wreckers," would hide
themselves somewhere near the haven sought
by a richly laden vessel, and after overpower-
ing the fire-keepers would extinguish the bea-
con-fire on the night on which the ship was
VOL. XXIV.-61. 4


expected. Then they would light another fire
near some treacherous reef. The mariner, sail-
ing boldly toward the false light, would dash
his vessel to destruction on the reef, whereupon


A SCREW-PILE OCEAN LIGHTHOUSE ON FOWEY ROCK, FLORIDA.

the robber band would plunder the wreck and
make off with the booty.
The Mediterranean Sea was the great cradle
of commerce, and some of the ancient beacon-
towers at the entrance to its harbors stood in-
81






THE LIGHTS THAT GUIDE IN THE NIGHT.


[APRIL,


tact for centuries. The giant statue known as the Colossus, at
Rhodes, is supposed to have been used as a beacon and light-
,..-- lie [ .F-'!'a i .- : ,- I hat great figure of Apollo
irild: rh tin tlL- !,lL....I -ttln,:ce kL. day, while a fire burned
in, thli_- iJ:li ':'f I is .ll' I 'lssal hand at night. Al-
t tiii-'l1 thi L .,:':oirir t of tlh C,.lossus is only a matter of
glu a : .ll:. it Vl't.1rallJ! true that in those ages of
.i'-.n:,rant i.-c.:.ile:ii,.- ,:.,f tIl need of beacons a light-
S ue .:: Iit -. a, irn .proportions, so enduring in
c)hartr:l,-r. th t ,t ..:,ine known as one of the Seven
\\':ilers .t. t lil \\ rl.: ri. ,i ouatlived all the others, save
the Pi' r mi': -, I1. c !nitu- i:.-d in some ways has never
Let-n e:xcele1'.l b:.) -i, _iiil ii structuree in modern times,
nil' -:s It 1.e I.1 : rtiur ,iifni..th marble monument to
\\ ah,,i,.tn. I,! i i' the 'hghthouse built on the little
Si ..t-i .! Pha r: i r '.:le Philadelphus, king of Egypt,
ti,:, huridre:l .. r.il ew, \ reirs before Christ, to guide
es s t. t,..: rI:. r _..' Alexandria. From all de-
:slril_'tin.s, it rni,,r Iiic I l-:-iv resembled our Washing-
Itn ,rli mne r ; I',.r r a i 1_ilt of white stone, was square
.it thi L..e, ar.l trapr tdI t.:,rd the apex. Open win-
d.ws cerjr .:.li its ..i_, tl,!.iitgh which the fire within
o-,ldhj bLe :,=n -r tily nmiies by vessels at sea. To
L ,jild it -cist eig 'it' t-i talents, or nearly one mil-
ion dllr: a.Ir .l ; i, .i'_ht was almost exactly the
same as th it :,f the \\, ishington monument; so
if you can imagine thit great column standing
so-litary 1-on a Ii\., Ct"r-rel-hing, yellow, sandy desert
shore, ith a itlIul file flaring from its top at night,
.,:,u twill hIa-t clcarl\ i!i mind the Pharos at Alex-
a ndri.., \Ih:I.C served ai a lighthouse for sixteen
hundrcl yeaIs.
As cA r!nt:ii- e bec:.ani source of great revenue
I: rit'rs, th~iiiintenance of lights and bea-
co-n, fr the pr. r_.tection of vessels became
.a ni-.rtil -a-':; but this was of so very
gra l.l ,i L growth that it was not un-
til the beginning of the seventeenth
,_nnti ri that the building, lighting,
.nd maintaining of lighthouses
was looked after with
regularity by all gov-
ernments. The best
proof of the slowness
of nations to see the
necessity of properly
lighting their coasts is
--- V z. afforded by Great Brit-
ain, as a rule the most
A WINTER LANDING AT THE MINOT LEDGE LIGHT. advanced commercial






THE LIGHTS THAT GUIDE IN THE NIGHT.


nation. During the reign of Queen Elizabeth
a. religious brotherhood known as the Brother-
hood of the Most Glorious and Undivided Trin-
ity was directed by an act of Parliament to
preserve ancient sea-marks, and
to erect beacons and "signs of
the sea." For more than a hun-
dred years this brotherhood kept
up the ancient sea-marks, but
erected nothing new; then they
began to purchase and operate
lights owned by private indi-
viduals or by societies; and still
later they commenced to build
lighthouses and beacons. Fi-
SECTION OF A nally, in 1856, Parliament gave
FRLENS. Trinity House the entire control
of the lighthouses of England.
Meantime the means of lighting was being
steadily improved. The. open fire gave place
to the oil-lamp; then a curved mirror, called
a parabolic mirror, was placed behind the lamp
to bring the rays together; next, many lamps
with mirrors were grouped about a central
spindle and some such lights are still in opera-
tion. The greatest stride came when an ar-
rangement of lenses, known as ihe Fresnel lens,
in front of a lamp replaced the mirror behind
it. This lens was rapidly improved for light-
house purposes, until now a cylindrical glass
house surrounds the lamp-flame. This house
has lens-shaped walls which bend all the rays
to form a horizontal zone of strong light which
pierces the darkness to a great distance.
The rapid increase in the number of light-
houses has made it necessary to have some
means of telling one from another, or, as it is
termed, of giving to each light its characteris-
tic." Coloring. the glass made the light dim-
mer, but as red comes most nearly to white
light in brightness, some lights have red lenses.
The latest and best plan, however, is to set up-
right prisms at intervals in a circular frame-
work around the lens, and to revolve this frame
by clockwork. Thus the light is made to flash
every time a prism passes between it and an
observer. By changing the number and places
of the prisms, or the speed of the clockwork,
the flashes for any one light can be made to
occur at intervals of so many seconds for that


light. Putting in red prisms gives still other
changes. Thus each light has its "character-
istic," and this is written down in signs on the
charts, and fully stated in the light-lists carried
by vessels. Thus, on a chart you may note
that the light you want to sight is marked
"F. W., v. W. Fl., io-sec.," which means that
it is fixed white varied by white flashes every
ten seconds." When a light is sighted you see
if those are its characteristics; and, if so, you
have found the right one.
Another scheme is used on the coasts of
France, in addition to those I have told you. It
is a means for swinging a vertical beam of light
across the sky at regular times. Thus the


; 1 "

C




THE LIGHTHOUSE AT ST. AUGUSTINE, FLORIDA.

whereabouts of a light can be discovered by
the appearance of its beam long before the
light itself shows above the horizon.
Lighthouse buildings are variously painted


483






THE LIGHTS THAT GUIDE IN THE NIGHT.


so that they will have a "characteristic" by
day. Thus some towers are red, some black,
some white and black in horizontal or verti-
cal stripes, some checkerboarded, and some
painted in spiral bands like those on a barber's
pole as in the picture on page 483.
One seldom thinks, when he watches the


IN A NORTHEASTER.


brightly cheering and safely guiding light of a
lighthouse, what ceaseless watching and patient
heroism it takes to keep the light burning year
in and year out through all weathers. Gener-
ally there is for each light only a keeper with two
assistants, and often the keeper is assisted only
by his wife, sons, or daughters. Even the most


comfortably situated lighthouses are generally
on lonely headlands, with no human dwelling
near. Others are on outlying rocks, or islands
swept by the sea, and wholly cut off from the
land except in fair weather. There are even a
few which, built upon sunken reefs, seem to
rise from the very bed of the ocean, and against
which storm-driven seas
break with shocks which
shake them to their
foundations. Such are
the Eddystone Light-
house, off the coast of
England at the entrance
to the English Channel,
and our own Minot's
Ledge Light, near the
entrance to Boston
Harbor. These two
are the most isolated
and exposed light-
houses in the world.
They were built at the
utmost peril to human
life. Each was swept
away by storms after
completion, and had to
be rebuilt.
The first lighthouse
on Minot's Ledge was
built in 1848. It was
an octagonal tower
resting on the tops of
Sight wrought-iron piles
eight inches in diame-
ter and sixty feet high,
with their bases sunk
five feet in the rock.
These piles were braced
together in many ways;
and, as they offered less
surface to the waves
than a solid structure,
this lighthouse was considered by all authori-
ties upon the subject to be exceptionally strong.
Its great test came in April, I851. On the T4th
of that month, two keepers being in the light-
house, an easterly gale set in, steadily increas-
ing in force. People on shore, and no doubt
the keepers themselves, watched the heavy seas


484


[APRIL,






THE LIGHTS THAT GUIDE IN THE NIGHT.


THE WRECK OF THE FIRST MINOT'S LEDGE LIGHTHOUSE.


sweep harmlessly through the network of piles
beneath the house, and feared no harm. On the
15th, however, the wind and sea had greatly in-
creased, and the waves were flung higher and
higher toward that tower in the air. Yet, all
thought they surely could not reach sixty feet
above the ledge!
That night was one of keen anxiety, for the
gale still increased; and all through that dread-
ful driving storm and darkness, the faithful
keepers were at their posts, for the light burned
brightly. On Wednesday, the i6th, the gale
had become a hurricane; and when at times
the tower could be seen through the mists and
sea-drift, it seemed to bend to the shock of the
waves. At four o'clock that afternoon an omi-
nous proof of the fury of the waves on Minot's
Ledge reached the shore--a platform which
had been built between the piles only seven
feet below the floor of the keepers' room. The
raging seas, then, were leaping fifty feet in the
air. Would they reach ten feet higher ? -for
if so the house and the keepers were doomed.
Nevertheless, when darkness set in the light
shone out as brilliantly as ever; but the gale
seemed, if possible, thtn to increase. What


ENGRAVED BY R. C. COLLINS.


agony those two men must have suffered! How
that dreadful abode must have swayed in the
irresistible hurricane, and trembled at each
crashing sea! The poor unfortunates must
have known that if those seas, leaping always
higher and higher, ever reached their house, it
would be flung down into the ocean, and they
would be buried with it beneath the waves.
To those hopeless, terrified watchers the en-
tombing sea came at last. At one o'clock in
the morning the lighthouse bell was heard by
those on shore to give a mournful clang, and
the light was extinguished. It was the funeral
knell of two patient heroes.
Next day there remained on the rock only
eight jagged iron stumps.
During this same gale another lighthouse,
twenty-five miles out at sea on that New Eng-
land coast, was sore beset. It was on a barren
rock of considerable area, known as Matinicus
Rock; and besides the tower there were sub-
stantial stone buildings for the keeper's family
and for storing supplies. The keeper had gone
away for provisions, leaving an invalid wife and
four daughters in the station. The eldest daugh-
ter, a girl of seventeen, was in charge of the


485






THE LIGHTS THAT GUIDE IN THE NIGHT.


light. During the
first day's gale the
seas began to sweep
entirely over the rocks,
washing away every-
thing movable, and
flooding the lower
rooms of the dwell-
ing. The roar of the
surf and the wind
was so great that the
poor women could k
not hear one another's
voices. At this stage
of the storm the young i NO
girl remembered her
chickens, and determined to save them. Taking
a large basket, she stood at an upper window
watching the sea. When there came a quiet
spell she rushed
out of the dwell-
ing, dashed ankle-
deep through the
sea-water draining
from the rocks,
dragged the poor
drenched hens
from the perches
where they had
taken refuge from
the waves, placed
them in the bas-
ket, and dashed
back into the house
again, with all
saved all but
one, which was out
of her reach, and
for which she
could not linger;
for hardly had she
secured the door
7 and retreated again
SECTION OF THE PRESENT MINOT'S to the upper floor,
LEDGE LIGHT.
when a most ter-
rific sea broke over the rocks, sweeping away
every house except the stone dwelling and its
light-tower. As the storm grew worse, the
dwelling had to be abandoned, and all lived in
the light-tower for three days and nights, dur-


.

:: .... .-
-. ---











ViS LEDGE AFTER THE STORM OF 1851.

ing which the little light-keeper never lost her
nerve, but kept the light burning as regularly
as clockwork.
Lighthouse-keepers do not seem to feel their
lonely life. I once spent a week on Scotland
Lightship, near the entrance to New York har-
bor. The assistant keeper was in charge, and
he was nearly stone deaf. He had not been
ashore for three months, and even a newspaper


i-


Sketch of the SCREW-PILE RIVER LIGHTHOUSE.
screw at the end
of the pile.
came to him only by chance from time to time,
when a pilot-boat stopped by on her way out
of the harbor. From sunrise until nine o'clock
at night he did little else but sit on a hatchway


486


[APRIL,






THE LIGHTS THAT GUIDE IN THE NIGHT.


THE SOUTH SHOAL LIGHT-SHIP, OFF NANTUCKET.


smoking an old pipe and gazing reflectively at
the great harbor receiving and dismissing its
thousands of vessels. One day he asked me to
use my influence to get him transferred to Cape
Cod. .I asked him why he wished the change.
"Well," said he, very seriously, "I want a
quieter station; it 's too lively here; I want to
be where there is less going on! "
Light-ships take the place of lighthouses on
shoals which are too much exposed, or where
sands are too shifting to allow lighthouses to be
built on them. These vessels are very securely
moored, and newer ones have auxiliary steam-
power, so that if they should break adrift in
a storm they could steam into the nearest
port for shelter, or lie to until the gale abated.
Their light and lenses surround one or both of
their masts, and in the daytime are lowered
down into a little house at the foot of the mast.
At night the lamps are lighted, and the lights
hoisted up again to the mastheads. On some
shoals, usually in rivers and bays, where the
water is not too deep and the sea is never vio-
lent, lighthouses are built on a trestlework sup-
ported by iron piles screwed into the sand.


The entire lighthouse system of the United
States is in charge of a board consisting of two
army engineer officers and two naval officers
of high rank, and two civilians. This board is
under the Treasury Department, and the Secre-
tary of the Treasury is ex offici president. Its
meetings are held in the Treasury Building in
Washington. The country is divided into six-
teen lighthouse districts, as follows: first to sixth
districts, Atlantic coast; seventh and eighth
districts, Gulf
Coast; ninth to
eleventh dis-
tricts, the Great
Lakes; twelfth : .'
and thirteenth
districts, Pacific
coast; and the
remaining three
districts include
the Ohio, Mis-
sissippi, Mis-
souri, and Red
rivers. Each
district is in
charge of a na-
val officer who
is termed an in-
spector. The
headquarters of
the third dis-
THE FOG-BELL.
trict, on Staten
Island, is the principal depot of supplies. Lamps
and lanterns are made there; all oil is tested
there; and all lighting apparatus is set up
and worked there before being sent to its
destination. Light-keepers are paid from $6oo
to $iooo, while the assistant keepers receive
from $400 to $600 year.







--I.--
4 n--


ON A QUIET DAY.


487



























































AN INTRUDER.








OUTSIDE AND INSIDE WEATHER.
(A ditty for springtime or any other tiine of year.)


IN the morning, when our eyes pop open
early, very early,
And we creep and peep to watch the
sun arise;
If he 's hiding, and a cloudy sky a-glow-
ering, grim and surly,
Has no streaming golden beaming for
our eyes,-
Why, then, lightly as a feather,
Must our spirits dance together,
And our faces must be sunny all day long;
For as fresh as Highland heather
We can make the inside weather
When the outside seems to be so very
wrong.


But if with the outdoor sunshine all the
happy birds are singing,
And -the trees are budding in the glad,
warm light;
And the arbutus is peepihg from its brown
leaves' tender keeping,
And the face of day is fresh and sweet
and bright,-
Why, then, why not all together
Make our faces match the weather ? -
Fresh and sweet and bright and sunny all
day long!
For as fragrant as the heather
Is the charming outside weather,
And the inside cannot be so very wrong.


Jessie Macmillan Anderson.




THE BOYLESS TOWN.'


A CROss old woman of long ago
Declared that she hated noise:
"'The town would be so pleasant, you know,
If only there were no boys."
She scolded and fretted about it till
Her eyes grew heavy as lead,
And then, of a sudden, the town grew still,
For all the boys had fled.

And all through the long and dusty street
There was n't a boy in view;
The base-ball lot where they used to meet
Was a sight to make one blue.
The grass was growing on every base,
And the paths that the runners made;
For there was n't a soul in all the place
Who knew how the game was played.

The dogs were sleeping the livelong day-
Why should they bark or leap ?
There was n't a whistle or call. to play,
And so they could only sleep.


The pony neighed from his lonely stall,
And longed for saddle and rein;
And even the birds on the garden wall
Chirped only a dull refrain.

The cherries rotted and went to waste -
There was no one to climb the trees;
And nobody had a single taste,
Save only the birds and bees.
There was n't a messenger-boy--not one
To speed as such messengers can:
If people wanted their errands done,
They sent for-a messenger-man.

There was little, I ween, of frolic and noise;
There was less of cheer and mirth:
The sad old town, since it lacked its boys,
Was the dreariest place on earth.
The poor old woman began to weep,
Then woke with a sudden scream:
"Dear me! she cried; I have been asleep;
And oh, what a horrid dream!"

Robert Clarkson Tongue.


VOL. XXIV.- 62.








OUTSIDE AND INSIDE WEATHER.
(A ditty for springtime or any other tiine of year.)


IN the morning, when our eyes pop open
early, very early,
And we creep and peep to watch the
sun arise;
If he 's hiding, and a cloudy sky a-glow-
ering, grim and surly,
Has no streaming golden beaming for
our eyes,-
Why, then, lightly as a feather,
Must our spirits dance together,
And our faces must be sunny all day long;
For as fresh as Highland heather
We can make the inside weather
When the outside seems to be so very
wrong.


But if with the outdoor sunshine all the
happy birds are singing,
And -the trees are budding in the glad,
warm light;
And the arbutus is peepihg from its brown
leaves' tender keeping,
And the face of day is fresh and sweet
and bright,-
Why, then, why not all together
Make our faces match the weather ? -
Fresh and sweet and bright and sunny all
day long!
For as fragrant as the heather
Is the charming outside weather,
And the inside cannot be so very wrong.


Jessie Macmillan Anderson.




THE BOYLESS TOWN.'


A CROss old woman of long ago
Declared that she hated noise:
"'The town would be so pleasant, you know,
If only there were no boys."
She scolded and fretted about it till
Her eyes grew heavy as lead,
And then, of a sudden, the town grew still,
For all the boys had fled.

And all through the long and dusty street
There was n't a boy in view;
The base-ball lot where they used to meet
Was a sight to make one blue.
The grass was growing on every base,
And the paths that the runners made;
For there was n't a soul in all the place
Who knew how the game was played.

The dogs were sleeping the livelong day-
Why should they bark or leap ?
There was n't a whistle or call. to play,
And so they could only sleep.


The pony neighed from his lonely stall,
And longed for saddle and rein;
And even the birds on the garden wall
Chirped only a dull refrain.

The cherries rotted and went to waste -
There was no one to climb the trees;
And nobody had a single taste,
Save only the birds and bees.
There was n't a messenger-boy--not one
To speed as such messengers can:
If people wanted their errands done,
They sent for-a messenger-man.

There was little, I ween, of frolic and noise;
There was less of cheer and mirth:
The sad old town, since it lacked its boys,
Was the dreariest place on earth.
The poor old woman began to weep,
Then woke with a sudden scream:
"Dear me! she cried; I have been asleep;
And oh, what a horrid dream!"

Robert Clarkson Tongue.


VOL. XXIV.- 62.












MISS NINA BARROW.

BY FRANCES COURTENAY BAYLOR.


[This story was begun in the February number.]

CHAPTER V.

NINA AT SEA.
"TAKE her up, Jobson! Here, Thomas,
help Jobson put Miss Nina into the carriage,"
said Marian by way of putting an end to a
most painful scene on the morning of the 2oth,
the day they were to sail for England.
It almost consoled Claudine for the three
days and nights in which she had walked the
floor with her poor face puffed out beyond rec-
ognition in consequence of Nina's selfish ex-
posure of her to the rain, and for all the conse-
quent suffering.. She said to Marian, who had
been very kind to her: Mademoiselle, she will
be so furious as not was, never, since I am with
Madame! "
Nina dimly divined that there was something
in the air; and when the truth could no longer
be concealed there was a scene. She and her
Grandy had what the Spanish expressively call
"'Moors and Christians," meaning a tremen-
dous dispute -a good deal of Moor" and
very little Christian," indeed; and I grieve to
say that Mrs. Andrews, being old and feeble, got
much the worse of the disgraceful dispute, and
would certainly have fared still worse had she
not enlisted Claudine on her side. That active
young person buzzed aboutthem, and, honestly
shocked and indignant, cried out from time to
time: Oh! Oh Quelle onte /--mechante, di-
testable! "- and seizing Nina, dragged her away,
and was holding her firmly by the wrists when
Marian entered. Nina, on seeing Marian,
rushed into her own room, banged the door,
locked it, and continued to shriek like a de-
mented thing.
As soon as Mrs. Andrews could speak she said:
"She is furious with me for keeping it from her.
She says she will never forgive me, and that she


simply will not go. Oh, dear! what am I to do
with her, Marian? I would have told her,
only I knew she would be so opposed to it,
and do just as she has done; and so -I thought
it best to get everything done quietly and all
ready. Could n't you go to her and coax her
round, and reconcile her to the idea, Marian,
and get her in a good humor by to-morrow?
We must go; our passage is taken, and every-
thing."
"I am afraid I am in no humor to do any
coaxing, cousin," said Marian. I don't like
to trust myself to speak to Nina at all, at
present, I am so indignant with her for her
behavior to you. I never knew anything so
painful, so shocking, as her conduct this af-
ternoon. I have no words to express-"
"Now, Marian, I '11 not have fault found
with Nina. We all have our faults. Oh, if
she only would stop her crying! "
Nina cried until the door had actually to be
burst open, and there she was on the bed cry-
ing herself into hysterics. Marian, who was
one of those calm, sensible women to whom
people always look in an emergency, without a
word stooped down, picked Nina up in her
arms, walked rapidly down the passage to the
bath-room, and putting her head under the
shower-bath, turned on the water. It was only
for an instant, but Nina gave a startled gasp
and came back to her "seven senses" with a
rush. Marian then carried her back, all wet
and dripping, and not heeding Claudine's fussy
suggestions, undressed the child, rubbed her off
briskly, popped her into her gown, cleared the
room, opened the windows, turned out the gas,
and stayed on guard till Nina slept.
Next morning she took a light breakfast to
her patient.
I don't want anything," whimpered Nina,
pettishly. Marian calmly poured out the tea,
buttered the bread, and bade her eat it; and






MISS NINA BARROW.


she was doing so when Mrs. Andrews came to
the door.
"Cousin," said Marian, you have not much
time; won't you leave Nina to me ? However,
we will talk of that another time. We shall
have to bestir ourselves this morning. Here,
Claudine!"
She gave Claudine directions rapidly in
French about helping Nina to dress and finish-
ing the packing. Then, going to her room, she
made herself ready, spent an hour in helping
Mrs. Andrews to do the thousand and one last
things, rang for the porters, gave her arm to
her cousin, and called to Claudine and Nina to
follow.
"Take no notice of Nina, Cousin," she
urged. "It is much better so."
Mrs. Andrews was borne off downstairs, and
after about five minutes Nina came rushing out
from the elevator and down the hall.
I won't go to England," she called; "I tell
you, I won't!" and running into the parlor ad-
joining, she threw herself on the sofa, rolled
off, drummed with her heels, and banged her
head about on the floor, for all the world like
an enraged baby.
It was then that Marian called the waiters
and bade them put Nina, willy-nilly, into the
carriage at once, having previously seen that
mistress and maid took their places.
Jobson and Thomas bore Nina off screaming,
her legs and arms flapping like a mill-wheel.
Marian jumped in at a bound, Jobson and
Thomas fell back panting from their recent ex-
ertions, the horses plunged forward. The deed
was done, and they were off. There was no-
thing for Nina to do except to sit still and sub-
mit and gradually subside, for Marian took no
notice of her whatever. Marian engaged the
grandmother in conversation, busied herself
with the packages, or discussed their plans,
until she had her party safely at the landing.
Then the carriage was dismissed, steamer-chairs
were bought, and the passengers and their ef-
fects were transferred to the "Arabia" before
Nina-could recover from the state of amaze-
ment into which she had been plunged. This
capable, composed, resolute Cousin Marian was
not Grandy," and somehow had the advan-
tage of her; but though Nina submitted, she


decided she would "show her a thing or two
some day!"
Meanwhile the novelty of the scene, the fine
ship, the crowds thronging it, the leave-takings,
the long cabin filled with people, the tables
heaped all their length with flowers sent the
passengers by their friends, swept all unpleasant
thoughts out of Nina's mind, and set her to
staring and chattering. Besides, she stumbled
almost immediately upon Louise Compton, who
was "going, too"; so before long she was
laughing joyously.
Marian arranged everything most comforta-
bly for Mrs. Andrews in her cabin, and it was
settled that Claudine should occupy the trans-
verse sofa-bed there, Nina and her grandmother
the two berths, Marian herself being in another
state-room some distance from them.
By the time this was done, Nina had roamed
all over the ship in her usual restless fashion;
she had penetrated even to the cook's galley;
and had been challenged by the captain with
a good-natured Hello! young un, what are
you doing in my cabin? Come out of there!"
Louise Compton had refused to enter, remained
outside, and begged Nina not to go in. Nina
was pushed hither and thither by the crowd;
and, finally, having sat down on a bonnet-box
and crushed it in, had been soundly berated by
the lady to whom it belonged- a woman whose
appearance suggested a British grenadier in
petticoats. She had been for thirty years the
principal of a Young Ladies' Educational
Establishment" in Montreal; and was very se-
vere, not to say awful, in appearance.
May I ask, little girl, if you are aware that
that is my box upon which you are sitting ? "
She had first said to Nina austerely; my cap-
box / Get up immediately! "
"Well, I did n't say it was n't," retorted
Nina, with the utmost coolness, turning her
pert face up toward the imposing countenance
looming above her.
The "grenadier" could scarcely believe her
senses. She, Miss Gregory, before whom gen-
erations of pupils and parents and teachers and
servants and tradesmen had bowed in all hu-
mility and submission, to be spoken to in such
a way by a little girl-- a mere child!
The tiers of gray curls packed above and


491






MISS NINA BARROW.


around her forehead seemed to blanch with the
horror of the situation, and her handsome fea-
tures took on an expression that would have
shaken the Educational Establishment" from
garret to cellar, could it have been seen there;
but Nina was not in the least awed.
"Is that your idea of the proper way in


"'*MAY I ASK, LITTLE GIRL, IF YOU ARE AWARE THAT THA
YOU ARE SITTING? "

which to address me, a woman of my position,
in reply to a deserved rebuke--in that man-
ner ?" she demanded.
Well, you ordered me around pretty sharply
yourself," replied Nina pertly. Here, you can
have your old box, if you want it; I don't."
She rose as she spoke, revealing that the trim
bonnet-box was a sadly collapsed structure.


"Oh, Nina! See! You have crushed it all
in," said Louise, with concern. "Shall I carry
it for you anywhere ? she asked Miss Gregory.
"Well, I did n't mean to squash it. I just
sat down, and first thing I knew it sort of
squelched," explained Nina to Louise.
"I am so sorry it happened," said Louise, by
way ofapology. "Nina
did n't intend to, of
course. You are very
sorry, too, are n't you,
S Nina ?" And she said
to Nina aside: "Why
don't you beg her par-
don, Nina?"
I"]Did n't mean to,
/ indeed!" sniffed Miss
Gregory, with scornful
indignation. By whose
permission- what au-
thority has she had for
presuming to lay so
much as a finger upon
a piece of private prop-
erty- my property? A
more unmannerly, ill-
bred, impudent per-
formance it has never
been my lot to witness;
and I shall take care to
S seek out your guardians
Son board, and inform
them of the fact. Upon
that you may depend."
Nina knew that this
was meant for a threat,
and her imperious and
fearless temper, unused
to any control, at once
flamed high. Only
T IS MY BOX UPON WHICH tenderness and patient
correction can reach
such natures. Age and authority were mere
names to Nina; as we know, .she had never
learned to respect the first, to yield any sort of
.obedience to the second. Yet she was capa-
ble of reverence, of passionate attachment, and
unselfish devotion, though her respect, like her
love, must be given, in true American fashion,
only where she felt it to be due and deserved,


492


[APRIL,


yii





MISS NINA BARROW.


not merely because it was demanded; and rev-
erence in her was as yet dormant, unawakened.
She had, indeed, a capacity for all noble feel-
ing; but it would not have been suspected by
any one who had heard her angry and imperti-
nent reply to Miss Gregory's last unwise speech.
Miss Gregory certainly had not been polite,
and she soon became even abusive. The signal
for departure being given just then, however,
a general commotion ensued, and the scene
ended by Nina's running to stare over the side
of the ship, which glided gently out of the dock
into the river, swung her sharp bow around,
and started off bravely and cheerfully on her
long, invisible path across the ocean, followed
by faint cheers, waving handkerchiefs, and the
lingering, fixed gaze of the relatives and friends
on shore.
Nina and Louise Conpton naturally drifted
together to the same places, and were much in-
terested in all that was going on. They pointed
out this or that to each other, and made merry,
very merry, over the odd costumes and the
baskets, parcels, bags, and big bundles of the
steerage passengers; while Mrs. Andrews, Mrs.
Compton, and Marian made acquaintance with
one another. Miss Gregory, in walking past
them, chanced to drop her cane. Louise darted
forward to pick it up, but was not allowed to
do so. Miss Gregory waved her away, and
with considerable difficulty stooped and re-
gained possession of it, saying acidly: No,
thank you. I have had quite enough of for-
ward children for one afternoon"; and then
she resumed her majestic course, her volumin-
ous skirts catching the evening breeze, an in-
verted mushroom of a hat tied formally under
her square, set jaw, a plaid shawl drawn tightly
about her stately figure.
Louise colored, and running back, caught
her mother's eye and her gentle smile, and her
words, Never mind, dear. You did what was
kind. What has so vexed the lady ?"
There was no answer from Louise, who only
looked in an embarrassed way at Nina; and
presently they all went below, Nina holding
her grandmother's elbow and saying as she
skipped along: "It's great fun, Grandy, and I
was a big goose to make a fuss about coming."
At table the members of the party were


placed by or opposite one another, but Miss
Gregory happened to sit next to Marian. The
latter was much amused when Miss Gregory,
having twice recommended stewed mushrooms,
which Marian twice declined, said to the stew-
ard not ten minutes later: Stewed mushrooms
for this lady, steward! "
"But I don't care for them, thank you; I
don't eat them," said Marian.
"But you should eat them; it is a foolish
prejudice; there is nothing more wholesome,
more delicious," insisted Miss Gregory, serving
her before she could remonstrate.
They all sat on deck some time afterward,
and Marian was charmed with Mrs. Compton.
She found Miss Gregory an extremely well
informed and highly educated woman, who
might have been an agreeable one as well had
she not been in the habit of mentally ranging
on benches before her everybody that she met,
while she "imparted information" and "as-
sumed charge of" them.
Marian at last took Mrs. Andrews below,
saw that she needed nothing, and received a
kiss and a "Thank you, my dear, for being so
considerate. You certainly will spoil me dread-
fully, Marian."
On going next morning to see her, however,
Marian found her in a woeful state enough, in
spite of her precautions; for although all port-
holes had been closed by the captain's orders,
Nina had insisted on having the port-hole open
because she found the state-room hot. The
result was that "as soon as the sea got hup,"
as the voluble stewardess explained to Marian,
Mrs. Andrews had been aroused from a sound
sleep by a swash, followed by two more waves
that left her in a swimming-bath.
Marian aided her to dress, while the steward-
ess and Claudine set to work to repair the
damage done.
Nina's air of bravado died away as she
watched Marian deftly helping her grandmother,
and trying to make her more comfortable
in mind and body. The unspoken reproach
of the clear gray eyes, the kind helpfulness
toward her grandmother, the silence toward
herself, marking Marian's displeasure, at last
wrung from Nina a jerky, embarrassed, "Well,
Idid n't know it was going to come in!"


1897.]


493






MISS NINA BARROW.


It was with the funniest little air of patron-
izing benevolence that she gave up to Mrs.
Andrews her own steamer-chair that afternoon,
saying: You take it, Grandy. I don't want it
now, and you might as well have it. I 'm
going down to the engine-room." A con-
science as to her treatment of her grandmother
was stirring for the first time in her childish
breast, and as she moved off, she felt vastly
virtuous over this by no means great sacri-
fice, this act of qualified civility, almost the
first she had ever shown the old lady. To the
selfish the smallest thing done for others seems
a great matter, while to the unselfish the great-
est sacrifices seem small, or simply a matter
of course.
For days after this the weather by degrees
grew to be what the sailors called dirty."
The captain called it "a stiff little blow "; the
female passengers in writing home afterward
spoke of a fearful storm." Whatever it was,
it sent the passengers from the tables to their
berths. From the first almost everybody was
prostrated; and Marian, who was not ill, had
her hands full attending not only to Mrs. An-
drews, but, with all her own sweet thoughtful-
ness, to as many others as she could serve in
any way, especially Mrs. Compton and Louise.
Nina, who was perfectly well, was extremely
interested in the situation. Having found ut-
terly helpless the mother of two little children
with whom she had been playing, she consti-
tuted herself nurse to the party. Nina took the
greatest possible pleasure in caring for them
after her own imperious and wilful fashion, the
stewardess being, as she herself said, "that
distracted with being called here and there and
everywhere that really she did n't know which
way to turn."
Only too glad to have matters quite in her
own hands Nina dragged out the two little
Bentons from their berth, washed their faces,
dressed, undressed, and fed them. She played
with them until she got tired, did as she pleased
with them, slapped them in a way their mother-
would not have approved had she known of it,
kissed them the next minute, gave them a really
curious collection of eatables and toys, and
thoroughly enjoyed her r61e of rescuer, pro-
tector, and temporary parent.


Marian, hurrying by with some dainty for
somebody, was surprised to see Nina curling
the youngest Benton's hair very fussily, with
an occasional. tap on the head with the brush,
a running stream of comments, and an air of
being engaged on a piece of most important
business. Marion gave her a smile that pleased
Nina not a little.
The sea rose higher and higher; the wind
blew fiercely. The captain no longer came to
his meals. The hatches were battened down,
and all below was darkness and bustle and
misery. There was not a breath of fresh air
to be had. The ship plunged and tossed and
rolled and lurched.
All that day the storm increased; and that
evening Marian came upon Nina, who, all
eager excitement, was going up on deck. She
seized her. "Don't you know that passengers
are forbidden to go up-that you would be
swept away into the sea ? she said.
"I 'm not afraid, and I don't care for the
captain. I will go!" cried Nina.
"You shall do nothing of the kind," said
Marian.
I will do as Iflease!" cried Nina, struggling
to free herself.
Luckily they chanced to be near Marian's
cabin, and quick as thought, with a vigorous
backward sweep of the arm and a push, wilful
Nina was caged, the door locked, the key trans-
ferred to Marian's pocket! There she stayed
all that night. She raved, she stormed, she
sobbed; she fiercely attacked the door. But
even shrieking and screaming, she soon found,
were of no use. She could not make herself
heard for the storm, though she tried till she
was hoarse. Nobody came near her. Darkness
came on. The ship plunged, rolled, lurched;
the wind howled like a thousand demons in full
cry; the timbers creaked and strained; feet went
trampling overhead, rushing here and there;
ropes were hauled about and thrown down.
Would they be wrecked--lost? To her ex-
cited imagination every sound was magnified
and full of terror; and, through all, Nina's mind
showed her the image of Marian, pale and
stern and resolute. The child's -stout heart
quailed before the horror and loneliness of it
all, and at last she uttered a piercing shriek.


494


[APRIL,






MISS NINA BARROW.


It was answered, apparently. Marian,
alarmed herself, and with no wish to terrify
Nina, had thought it time to go to the child,
and already was at the door. She opened it,
and Nina completely subdued, threw herself on
her bosom and clung to her as if already drown-
ing. Marian, still pale and grave, lit the lamp,
sat down on the floor of the cabin, and said
what she could to reassure and comfort the
frightened child. The storm grew worse and
worse, and Nina, even with Marian's arms
about her, trembled as she heard the waves
dashing fiercely against the slight shield between
herself and an angry ocean, and felt the vibra-
tion of the shock.
At last Marian rose. Making Nina lie down,
she propped and wedged her about with pil-
lows, and then sat down by her and held her
hand till both fell asleep.

CHAPTER VI.
IN ENGLAND.
THE storm over, everybody and everything
soon assumed a different aspect, and once more
there was plenty, of light, air, and cheerfulness.
Miss Gregory was borne up on deck by a cou-
ple of sailors, a noble wreck, imposing even in
her ruins, but scarcely recognizable; her hair,
no longer in prim tiers of puffs, was straggling
limply about her face, and on her face was a
look of ineffable indifference to all Education,
Information,- Deportment, and everything. All
the schoolmistress, the despot, was gone; only a
miserable, ailing woman remained.
"She were a handful I tell 'ee, Bill," said one
of the two blue-jackets to the other as they
retired after putting her down on the bench
selected.
It was Mrs. Compton who covered her and
settled her pillows, and Louise who ran her
errands all that day, and showed herself so kind
and gentle, so polite and thoughtful, that it is
to be hoped even Miss Gregory was compelled
afterward in common fairness to admit that not
all children are rude and odious.
As for Miss Gregory's condition, it was much
the same for twelve hours or more. But on
the next day she was up, re-panoplied in a
stiff bodice and curls and bugled head-dress,


and ordering people to "come out of that
draft," to sit here and there, tb take this and
that remedy, to speak English, for goodness
sake! to put on or take off shawls -to do
and not to do twenty things. She was giving a
lecture on algae, and the moons of Mars, and
the tides in the Bay of Fundy. She was trying
to order around the very captain -in short,
she was herself again.
Mrs. Andrews, though she was better, still
kept her cabin; and Marian and Nina had a
long talk when calmness and sunshine came.
Marian told her very kindly but quite frankly
what she thought of many things Nina had
done of her selfishness and want of consider-
ation for Claudine before leaving; of the same
faults shown more glaringly still toward her
grandmother -how she had been hurt and
mortified by it; of the love and respect Nina
owed her; and, finally, of her wilful determina-
tion the night before to risk her life -in short,
to have her own way always, and carry out her
own plans and wishes at any cost to herself
or others. She algo told how a poor sailor
had been washed overboard the night before
and lost.
And Nina, listening to this calm and reason-
able exposition of her conduct, felt that it was
true- undeniable. This did not seem like a
scolding; and in the end she impulsively em-
braced Marian, and promised to "try not to
any more," which was at once vague and com-
prehensive. But Nina did try. Mrs. Andrews,
on the fifth day out, was amazed to see her with
books and work sitting quietly by Marian's side,
working of her own free will. Nina behaved
well the rest of the voyage. She even finished
the scarf for her Grandy, and presented it with
a glow of pride, to that lady's infinite surprise.
--" You did it, Nina? and for me? Oh, my
darling, my darling!" cried the delighted old
grandmother, embracing her grandchild'affec-
tionately. Nina also finished the sketch of the
rose for the sick girl in New York, taking (for
her) astonishing pains with it, and at Queens-
town the picture was posted, with a note from
Marian.
The following week saw the party established
at a family hotel in Liverpool. They had
parted with Mrs. Benton and her children and






MISS NINA BARROW.


with Miss Gregory, at Queenstown. Mrs.
Compton and Louise also had stopped there,
as they were to journey through Ireland to
England, to Limeshire, the county in which
the Aubreys lived, where the Comptons had
friends. Nina was not particularly struck by
the really fine sights to be seen in Liverpool;
she had not yet learned to take an intelligent
interest in such things; but she was fascinated
by the strangeness of her surroundings, and,
when they began going about, by the street-
boys who, wherever she went, haunted her
footsteps, headed her off, put down small
squares of carpet, and proceeded to turn somer-
saults and make wheels of themselves for her
amusement. She scattered ten shillings among
them, and as much more among the wretched
beggars with whom, unhappily, the city swarms;
and at last could not turn around without find-
ing herself surrounded. The great Norman
draft-horses, with their thick necks and shaggy
hoofs, interested her; and she and Marian
had an amusing visit to the market, a number
of walks, and some drives in the suburbs.
Mrs. Andrews who was not well enough to go
with them, soon tired of Liverpool; so at break-
fast one morning they all agreed to go on to
London, and the plan was carried out that
same day.
They were surprised to find it still quite light
when they rolled into Euston Station in London
at ten o'clock that evening.
I could read quite fine print, if I liked,"
said Marian. How odd it seems, at this hour!"
Oh, yes. Bill, on the ship, he says the sun
in England does n't really get up or go to bed
at all, as it does in the southern parts. He says
it just dips around a corner, and comes up again
smiling," said Nina. "Bill was a nice man,
but he was so awful busy all the time,- very,
I mean, Cousin Marian,- he had n't much time
to talk. And it was a shame; he knew 'bout--
about--such wonderful things. I was dying
to hear about them, and so was Louise. I
gave him my bottle of cologne for good-by, and
he said: Lor', miss, whatever should I do with
it ?' and I told him to smell it, that I guessed he
could do that if he tried. And he said, 'Smell
it, miss ? me I 'd not know bergamot from
bilge-water; but I '11 send it 'ome to my little


Mary -bless 'er heyes!' Don't they talk funny
over here, Cousin Marian? "
"Speak queerly? Well, that is an open
question, dear. They think the same thing
of us, you know! said Marian.
Marian secured cabs, and Nina was much
surprised when their baggage was heaped
above them and, indeed, she kept her head
out of the window while it was being done.
Look here! it '11 smash in on us," she said
sharply to the cabby; or roll off, or something.
Have n't you any baggage-wagons in London
to take trunks, without people waiting around
so long, and carrying them off on -their own
backs? Are you afraid they '11 get stolen?
They ought to be in our rooms this minute
waiting for us. Gracious! you are not smart a
bit. Why don't you do as they do in America? "
Cabby assured her that it would be all right,
and with some grumbling about a Saratoga "
that he and his fellow-cabmen together could
scarcely lift up to the roof, and which he said
was what you might call a housee when stood
on hend," he rubbed a red nose with the
handle of his whip, asked, Wot's the address,
my lady ?" Then he touched his hat, mounted
the box, and drove off, meditating upon the
extra charge he meant to make. The novelty
of her surroundings, of everything that she saw,
streets, houses, people, shops, policemen, the
children, the beggars, the carriages, the ser-
vants, the rush and roar of the capital of the
commercial world, as she bounced and jolted
along,-amused Nina immensely. Now it was
. a chimney-sweep who caught her eye; now a
costermonger and his donkey-cart; now a street
vender of flowers, all a-blowin' and a-grow-
in' "; now a group of little ones with their In-
dian ayah "; now a guardsman in a gorgeous
uniform, with a pancake of a hat stuck jauntily
on the side of his head, walking beside a neat
nursery-maid; now a "swell" tearing along in
a hansom; now a gorgeous turnout with liveried
servants, all hats and plush and buttons. On they
went, on and on and on, Nina exclaiming, Oh,
look! Oh, see! Look here there! Yon-
der, Claudine! Oh, how funny it all is! And
Claudine, solemnly gazing, and sitting up very
erect, her arms full of parcels, would reply with
a superior smile, Oui, mademoiselle, les anglais


496


[APRIL.,






MISS NINA BARROW.


sont bien drdles." Still on and on they rattled.
It seemed to Nina that they had gone half
around the world. Was all this London? and
would cabby never stop ? She caught sight pres-
ently of a dog-fancier leading a King Charles
spaniel by a string, and carrying a terrier and
a pug under his arms; and she put her head
out of the window and shrieked Stop 1 Stop! "
quite in vain. She then seized an umbrella and
beat such an animated tattoo upon cabby's leg
that he did at last draw rein and ask, Wot 's
hup, miss ? upon which she declared that she
must and would see those dogs. The man was
called. Claudine thought Mademoiselle would
better wait. Nina was choosing one of the dogs.
She hesitated between the King Charles, which
she thought perfectly sweet" (it was a beauty,
having been stolen from a rich owner that very
morning), and the pug. The man asked her
two guineas for the pug. You can drive on,"
said Nina to cabby; I won't give it."
"Say one pound ten," cried the fancier.
"No, no. Drive on." said Nina.
"A guinea," said the fancier.
No, I tell you," said Nina.
"Fifteen shillings, miss," cried the fancier
eagerly.
Just you hold on a minute," said Nina; and
popping out of the cab, she ran up to a police-
man on the other side of the street, and said
to him, "Say, is fifteen shillings about what I
ought to give for a pug if I was n't an Ameri-
can? "
"It is cheap enough, miss; but the likes of
him can afford to sell cheap, and it 's right you
are to ask me," said the obliging Bobby,"
much amused.
Back skipped Nina, paid the man, gave Claud-
ine the dog, saying, ".Take the darling, beau-
tiful fright! I 'm going to call it Beelzebub,'"
kissed her new pet, got back in the cab, settled
herself,- all in a minute,- and then said to
the dog-fancier, "And look here, Mr. Dog-
man, next time you want to cheat an American,
don't wink at the cabman, that 's all. I saw
you."
Cabby and Bobby and a bystander all burst
into a loud guffaw, and Nina could not help
laughing too; but she caught a glimpse of a still
angry dog-seller as the cab moved on again.
VOL. XXIV.- 63.


The carriage in front, containing Marian and
Mrs. Andrews, was out of sight by this time;
and cabby, still chuckling over the recent inci-
dent, urged his lank and bony steed to do its
utmost, and so successfully that presently, in
cutting sharply around a corner, lo a tremen-
dous lurch, and over went the cab The door
flew open, the occupants, their baskets, parcels,
books, rugs, and what not, tumbled out, the
luggage tumbled off, as did the fat coachman,
and all found themselves in the street in stunned
amazement and confusion.
Then up rose Nina, very indignant and not
at all hurt. "I told you it would," she cried,
" you great stupid Call yourself a coachman!
You 're a perfect gump, that's what you are!
Get me another cab this minute." Her tone of
authority, her assurance, above all her abuse of
himself, made a great impression on cabby. He
thought she must be a very high and mighty
small personage indeed to take such a tone,
and accordingly, with the humblest apologies,
he hurried off, got a fly almost immediately, and
placed her in it in the most obsequious manner
possible, collecting all her scattered effects, and
tenderly helping even the scared and weeping
Claudine.
Now get a cart, or something, and bring the
baggage to the hotel. Look at my grandmo-
ther's Saratoga all burst open and if there 's
anything missing, my my uncle will write to
the Queen! concluded Nina loftily in perfect
good faith and most impressively. Poor cabby
fairly groveled before her on hearing this, and
cabby the second made a great show of shutting
the door and taking her orders, so impressed
was he by her imperious air and manner.
"Begging your pardon, my lady, for asking,
would you wish the dawg to go with you, or be
brought on with me ?" asked cabby the first,
touching his hat.
Oh, my precious Beelzebub! Give him
here! I 'd forgotten all about him!" said
Nina. Poor little precious thing! Were you
scared to death, eh ? "
If you please, miss, me being in a manner
not responsible, through havingg a housee to 'an-
dle that none can call a box, and it will be
hextra bringing it on-a matter of five shil-
lings or more," put in cabby the first, deprecat-


1897.]






MISS NINA BARROW.


ingly, but prepared to bluster on provocation,
as the peculiar tone of his voice showed.
Well, what of it ? asked Nina impatiently,
her nose in the air.
Nothing, my lady; nothing whatsomedever
-nothing," cooed cabby, all contentment;
"which the things can be counted by all, and
there as soon as ever they can be got on a
four-wheeler"; after which he again touched
his hat, as did cabby the second, and Nina
rolled away again, finally reaching the hotel,
where Marian anxiously awaited them.
Is n't he the most perfectly hideous beauty
of a pug that you ever saw? Such a time as
we 've had! All turned over, and everything.
English drivers are the greatest gumps! Gran-
dy's Saratoga's gone to smash, I tell you!
It '11 be here presently. You let the clerk pay
him, so he can't take you in. What sort of a
hotel is this, anyway ?" inquired Nina, display-
ing her purchase and relating her adventures;
" and what did you come to this horrid, dark,
ugly, old-fashioned place for ? I 've a great
mind to get up and go somewhere else. It's
the pokiest, blackest--well, I 'm hungry; I
guess I '11 stay. Here, Claudine, take my
hat!" Stay they did, and were comfortably
lodged, admirably served, and heavily charged;
but Nina did not think the place improved on
acquaintance. She missed the noise, the glit-
ter, the publicity, of the huge caravansaries to
which she had been accustomed.
"Call this a hotel!" she said to the meek
housemaid in attendance; "why, it hardly
holds our trunks; and just look at the dingy
furniture! Mercy! You 'd open your eyes
if you could see our hotels-St. Augustine,
Southern California, Saratoga, and Narragansett
Pier, and all. What 's the matter here, any-
way? You 're all walking around as if on
eggs, and whispering. Is anybody dead? No?
Well, why don't you cheer up, then, and look
lively? You have n't got any people around,
or any bands, and there 's nothing going on,


and getting a pitcher of ice-water takes an
hour, and we are not going to stay shut up in
our rooms all the while, eating by ourselves
like a jail, and not a bit of fun! I know I 'm
just going to hate London! I have n't looked
around much yet, but I just know I 'm going
to be awfully disappointed."
To all of which Mary Ann opposed only a
"Really, now, miss!" or "You don't say so,
miss "
Nina "looked around next day, the after-
noon of the day after their arrival; and this is
how it came about. Mrs. Andrews, being tired
and unequal to any exertion, kept her room.
Marian had gone to see .an old friend, having
provided Nina, as she thought, with agreeable
occupation. She had scarcely left the house,
however, when Nina might have been seen
struggling into her ulster and pinning on her hat.
"I 'm just going to see if there 's anything
going on outside in the streets," said she to
herself. I 'll just go out and look-around and
see what 's in the stores, and all the funny
English people and things "; and Nina sallied
forth, with all London before her.
The elderly, highly respectable hall-porter
stared and ventured to say, "You are never
going out alone, miss, are you ? as she passed
him.
Yes, I am, too. I 'm not going to ask you,
I guess," replied Nina promptly, with a toss of
her head.
"Ahem! Beggin' pardon, does the fambly
know--w'ich they can'tt" said the porter, with
a little cough behind his hand. Young ladies
are not allowed to go about the city alone in
this country," remarked the old man solemnly.
"It ain't safe. It ain't done, miss. You
should n't, now, really, miss."
Well, I don't care if they don't. I 'm a
'Merican, and I can take care of myself, and
I 'm going to do as I please," announced Nina,
as she put up her grandmother's black-lace par-
asol and went her wilful way.


(To be continued.)


498









HER PAPA'S NAME.

BY ALICE MAY DOUGLAS.


"WHOSE little girl is this ? I said.
I 'm papa's girl," the child replied.
"And what is papa's name ?" I asked.
To think of it she tried and tried.


"My papa's name? Oh, let me see!
I really do not know," she said;
"For when he 's ill ma calls him Dear,'
But when he 's well it's just plain' Fred.' "

























F K' 's,


EASTER 'S COMING!
499








































THE EIGER. THE MONCH.


THE JUNGFRAU TUNNEL.


By F. W. WENDT.


YEs, pretty rough trip," Uncle Tom called
back, leaning over the railing of the steamer
that had brought him home again. And in
truth it must have been; for when May and
Harry, standing on the pier, looked up at the
huge black funnels, they saw large white salt-
patches clinging to the very top, showing that
the ocean had climbed away up there.
On the evening of Uncle Tom's arrival, a
merry little family party had gathered around
the Marston tea-table. The red-shaded lamp
in the middle of the table, among steaming bis-
cuits and delicacies of every kind, threw a fine,
cheery glow over everything. Even the sing-


ing tea-kettle bubbled and chuckled, and danced
its little cover up and down in high glee, be-
cause Uncle Tom had come home again from
Europe. When he came from abroad he al-
ways had news and stories to tell, which May
and Harry enjoyed as much as their parents,
Dr. and Mrs. Marston.
"Well, Tom, how fares the world on the
other side of the Atlantic, and what news can
you tell us ? asked Dr. Marston.
"The most interesting novelty I have found
is a plan to take a railroad excursion through
a tunnel to the very tip-top of Europe amid
snow and ice," answered Uncle Tom.






THE JUNGFRAU TUNNEL.


THE JUNGFRAU.


"Whew-w-w!" said Mrs. Marston with
a little shiver; "how cold and wet and tiring
that must be."
Not if you go in the grand way proposed by
the Swiss engineer, Herr Guyer-Zeller. You get
into a comfortable car in the valley, and with-
out the least exertion on your part you slide
up, up, up to one of the highest and most beau-
tiful snow-peaks of Switzerland, the Jungfrau
Mountain. Around you and below you lies a
magical panorama of ice and snow, while in the
distance you may see the landmarks of three
great nations: Monte Rosa of Italy, Mont
Blanc. of France, and the Black Forest of
Germany."
Why, you talk just like a guide-book, Uncle
Tom said May.
Then I am making a mistake, because guide-
books are seldom interesting. First class in
Geography, stand up. Now, Miss May, I am
going to start in by asking questions. Do you


remember when we were all at Interlaken two
years ago ? "
Oh, yes! said May; and the big white
mountain that looked like a piece of sugar, right
in front of the hotel."
"Yes, I see you remember. Only that big
white mountain, the Jungfrau, is miles away
from the hotel, and even at that distance it
looks very, very high. It is about 13,000 feet."
And then Uncle Tom explained to them all
how Swiss engineers had thought it would be a
great thing to give any one who cared to go a
chance to reach a place where snow and ice
never melt all the year round, and to look
down from that tremendous height and see
what a beautiful world this is.
Now bring your map of Switzerland, May,
and I will show you just where all this is to
happen."
"And I am going to help clear away the
tea-things. Then we can make believe that the


The illustrations on this and the preceding page are from photographs by the Photo-chrom Co., Detroit, Mich.


at~- ~4 1,.

~t ~1~






THE JUNGFRAU TUNNEL.


table is Switzerland," said Mrs. Marston, "and
Uncle Tom can take us with him and point
out places on our make-believe Switzerland."
Uncle Tom went out, and when he came
back with a large package of photographs un-
der his arm, he found everything ready for the
"trip." The rough, dark-green tablecloth was
a fine ground to build upon. Large and small
plates were to represent cities, and cups of dif-
ferent sizes were ready to be put into the proper
places as snow-covered mountains.
"Ah! here we are," cried Uncle Tom.
"Now, ladies and gentlemen, we will take you


up higher than you have ever been in .your
life. All aboard!-we start from Interlaken.
"'On the map, you see, Switzerland looks like
a large, irregular ink-blot, squeezed in between
France, Germany, and Italy. Its boundary-
line is very ragged, little tails and legs and
fringes sticking out all around. But our green,
oblong table,will do well enough." Uncle Tom
took up two large plates. Now find Berne
and Lucerne on the map, and put the plates on
the correct places on the table."
Harry and May, after a little sturdy of the
map, laid them in their proper positions. Thenr
they found Interlaken, and marked that site,
too, with a small saucer. The three formed a
triangle in the middle of Switzerland, with one
of the corners, marked by the Interlaken sau-
cer, pointing south.
"That is to show us exactly where we are,"
said Uncle Tom. Now below Interlaken we
will place three 'tea-cup mountains.' The one
on the right is the Eiger, the next one, to the
left, touching it, is the M6nch, and the largest
one, to the left of the M6nch, is the Jungfrau.
"A train leaves Interlaken early in the morn-
ing and takes us through the beautiful Lauter-
brunnen valley. Then we have to change cars
and get into a funny little combination com-
posed of one car and a small locomotive. This
strange train pushes and puffs up the steep
incline with us, and gives us a fine view of
the mountains-the Eiger, Mdnch, and Jung-
frau-the mountains which are to be pierced
by the great tunnel through which the ascent
is to be made.
"Every minute the scenery changes. The
river below and the chalets grow smaller and
smaller, and finally, as we look down, appear
like Noah's-ark villages.
"We have reached Scheidegg, the last sta-
tion at present, and the beginning of the great
railway that is to be built. We are very high,
about 6300 feet, but as yet we seem to be only
at the foot of the three mighty mountains that
you can see in this large picture. The one
farthest to the left is the Eiger, where the tun-
nel is to begin. Then comes the M6nch, and
the largest one on the right is the Jungfrau.
Here also is the plan that shows you exactly
what the engineers are going to do."


502


[APRIL,






THE JUNGFRAU TUNNEL.


Uncle Tom placed a tracing beside the pho-
tograph. Do you see that dotted line?"
he asked. That is how the tunnel is going
to be built. Where it begins on the left is
the farthest point you can now reach by rail
--Station Scheidegg, as I have told you.
One day I walked
up toward the point
where the engineers
propose to begin the
tunneling. Pickaxes
.and powder and dyna-
mite will slowly march
.ahead of them and
*open the passage for
present and future
.generations. First into
the very heart of the
Eiger mountain; then,
.after a sharp right-
turn, through the next
mountain, the M6nch;
:still on, under the gla- "
.ciers and ice and snow
fields, to the center of
:the Jungfrau, to within ,tI s
.about 200 feet from
the top, directly under .
-the highest peak. A .
large circular shaft will '
be run vertically from ... .
here to the summit. :.
"There will be steps
-going up this shaft, but '
as two hundred feet is *
:a pretty long climb by .
means of a stairway, .
a large elevator will ,i -,: A
:shoot up and down,
.and whirl people from HOW THE MOUNTA
the dark interior of a
mountain into the dazzling sunlight of the most
heavenly Swiss panorama."
Why, that is like' Arabian Nights' and
Aladdin'! exclaimed May.
"You are quite right, May; people do things
now that seem more incredible than the feats
accomplished by the slave of Aladdin's Won-
derful Lamp," said Uncle Tom.
Harry had been thinking and wondering.


He was a bright lad, and always wanted to
know the why and wherefore of things.
How long is that whole tunnel going to
be ? he finally asked.
Over six miles."
"And the train goes uphill under ground


INS ARE CLIMBED TO-DAY. CROSSING A CREVASSE.


all the time, does n't it; and has to go very
slowly ? "
"Yes."
"Then," said Harry, I don't think I would
like to creep around in darkness, inside of a
mountain, like that, and not see a thing."
"You are right, my boy; but it will not be
necessary. Every fifteen minutes there will be
a large, roomy station, with great windows cut


1897-1






THE JUNGFRAU TUNNEL.


into the mountain side, from which there will
be a view of fairyland even before you get to
the tip-top. And nobody will be asked to go
on to the end unless he likes.
Now, I am going to show you how peo-
ple used to, and still do, climb to the top of
the Jungfrau." Uncle Tom drew out other
pictures,-pictures of snow and ice with a few


time is carried to view a panorama that few,
until then, have ever seen or dreamed of."
Uncle Tom paused. Dr. Marston was blow-
ing large rings of smoke from his cigar.
Well, Tom," he said, that is all very beau-
tiful, but it is-not practicable."
Why not? "
"Because, in the first place, anybody who


THE JUNGFRAU, FROM THE RUGEN, NEAR INTERLAKEN.


people climbing up across the crevasses. One
wrong step," said Uncle Tom, and they go
shooting down thousands of feet. But not only
that: the exposure and the cold are terrible,
and many people have, as a result, lost their
lives. It takes several days to make the perilous
ascent and descent, and only experienced and
hardy mountain-climbers, with the aid of skilled
guides, dare attempt it.
"And now see how all changes when the
railroad is built: One takes a comfortable seat
in a car driven by electricity, and in a short


suddenly rises to that altitude, about 13,000
feet, would become very ill through the change
in the air-pressure."
"Yes, most people would become ill if they
climbed up, but not if they were carried up. It
is not only the rarefied air that affects them,
but the exertion of the climb uses up the
oxygen in the blood, and that of course makes
people more susceptible and ill."
How can you prove that?" asked Dr.
Marston. No one has ever been taken up
there yet without climbing."


[APRIL,






THE JUNGFRAU TUNNEL.


a9,,4 A.,4. fbml .
4,----h Jd--

(Aroqhe, Side)


DIAGRAM OF THE PROPOSED JUNGFRAU RAILROAD.


"No," said Uncle Tom; we can only rea-
son it out; a very ingenious experiment has
been made with guinea-pigs."
With guinea-pigs!" called out little May.
"Is n't that funny? "
Then Uncle Tom told the children how
scientific men had proved by means of animals
that the sickness that overcomes most people
at great heights is due as much to exertion as
to the altitude. Guinea-pigs were chosen to
experiment upon; and as it would have been
difficult actually to take them up the Jungfrau
Mountain, a very clever scheme was found to
produce the same conditions.
"Air, light as it may seem, weighs fifteen
pounds a square inch at the level of the sea.
The higher we rise the lighter or more rarefied
it becomes. This we must fully comprehend
to understand the experiment. To begin with,
we shall need a large glass bell-jar, one
from which the air can be pumped. We can
tell exactly how light the air under the jar is
at any moment by the instrument connected
with it." So saying, Uncle Tom showed a pic-
ture of the apparatus.
"It looks like a thermometer," said May.
"It does; and it is a similar instrument, called
a manometer,' or measure of the pressure of
gases, such as air. Under the.jar there is a
VOL. XXIV.-64.


wheel, like the wheels that we have seen squir-
rels play in. By means of electricity they can
make this wheel revolve slowly or quickly.
And now our experiment begins. We put
two guinea-pigs, called John' and 'Jim,' un-

--s^ :-
.)->- -*-.-


DIAGRAM OF THE SPIRAL STAIRCASE AND ELEVATORS TO
THE SUMMIT OF THE JUNGFRAU.

der the glass jar. John, however, is placed
in the wheel, while Jim is allowed to lie down






THE JUNGFRAU TUNNEL.


quietly wherever he pleases under the jar.
We then start the wheel going in the direction
of the hands of a clock, and so if John does not
move his legs and walk forward, the wheel by
its motion carries him backward and up. So
poor guinea-pig John has to trot forward as fast
as the wheel-floor under him moves backward.
We know exactly the size of the circumference,
and by a sort of cyclometer we can tell how far
we have made John run in the wheel. By
slowly pumping out air at the same time, we
produce the same conditions as if John were
running up a mountain up the Jungfrau.-
As soon as the air becomes as light as it would
be on a mountain 12,000 feet high, poor John
begins to show signs of weariness, and when
we keep on and make him go higher still, to
14,oo0 feet alti-
tude, he falls on
his back and is
no longer able to
move. Jim, on
the contrary, in
the same light
atmosphere, is
quite well, as he
has made no ex-
ertion. If, how- +
ever, we go on -
rarefying the air
until it is as if at
the altitude of the
Himalaya moun-
tains, 24,000 feet, .
Jim too succumbs. DIAGRAM OF T
"This little ex-
periment proves that a living being carried up
to a reasonable height will suffer little discom-
fort, while the one who climbed to that altitude
will in most cases become ill. If a human John
climbs up the Jungfrau around the outside
through snow and ice, and a human Jim rides
up comfortably through the great proposed tun-
nel, Jim will very probably have a good time
and enjoy the view when he gets to the top,
while poor John will feel exhausted and ill-
'mountain-sick,' as it is called."
"It seems to me," said Mrs. Marston, that
your tunnel and railroad will do much to drive
the poetry out of the Swiss mountains."


Perhaps, for the very few who are able to
climb up by means of the alpenstock, that is
true," agreed Uncle Tom; "but it will create
poetry and show the sublime in nature to
thousands of men and women and children
who cannot and dare not go there now."
The cheerful fire in one corner of the room
had gone on crackling all the evening, unmind-
ful of the fact that the family were away with
Uncle Tom on their make-believe trip to Swit-


HE EXPERIMENT WITH THE GUINEA-PIGS.


zerland. May alone had gone to keep it com-
pany, and sat upon the polar-bear skin in front of
the old-fashioned hearth, staring into the fire,
where, she had declared, the logs looked ex-
actly like the Jungfrau Mountain shown in the
photograph.
Suddenly the great, tall clock in the corner
of the room struck eleven. The familiar sound
brought Uncle Tom and his party back from
the top of the Jungfrau to the cozy dining-room
-all but May. May's curly little head was
resting upon the thick bear-skin; she had trav-
eled farther than any of them-for she had
made the journey to Dreamland.


506








RHYMES ABOUT ANIMALS.


By FRANK VALENTINE.

IX.


THERE was a boy named Sammy Lynn,
And one day at the "Zoo "
He came and rode a Camel in
And led a Kangaroo.
II.
One cannot long feel anger who,
Though down in "doleful dumps,"
Beholds a sportive Kangaroo
Flit by with flying jumps.

III.
If you want a rhyme to Platypus,"
-And cannot find one, call
A Pussy-cat a Catty-puss--
Which simplifies it all.
IV.
" I 'm tangled," cried an Antelope,-
"The hunter comes to kill.
From these thick boughs I can't elope;
I 'd better make my will!"


V.
I understand (ah, well I can!)
How dire alarm may fill
The fishes, when a Pelican
Presents his monstrous bill.


We tried a pachydermatous
Wild Boar to scare away;
But he looked so fierce and firm at us,
We well, we did not stay.
VII.
I really cannot tell if Aunt,
Though wonderful her lore,
Has ever seen an elephant
Check trunks to Baltimore.
VIII.
Said the Dugong to the Manatee,
By the banks of Orinoco:
"I '1l see you, if I can, at tea;
But mind you have some cocoa."


When fighting failed, our army 'gan,
Its spare hours to employ,
To chase the wily Ptarmigan;
I smiled--and wished them joy.

X.
"I don't care," cried the Cormorant,
"For gale or swelling sea;
The elements may storm or rant,
'T is all the same to me."
XI.
The lame man said: "I 'll limp and see
(He 's surely worth the sight)
That charming, chattering Chimpanzee,
Before he 's vanished quite."
XII.
" If I 'm to fight the Unicorn,"
The hungry Lion said,
"On raw beef, not on puny corn,
I really must be fed."
XIII.
Alone, or with no pal but Ross
(Bob Ross, my comrade dear),
I 've chased the sailing Albatross
O'er miles of ocean drear.
XIV.
If you had bought a Catamount,
And by his claws been rent,
You 'd say with me that that amount
Might better have been spent.
xv.
"What think you? said the Buffalo,-
Be candid, now, old fellow,-
Was ever voice so gruff or low
As mine is, when I bellow ?"
XVI.
I once said to a Porcupine,
Whose dinner was a root:
If ne'er for knife and fork you pine,
You are a happy brute !"









A Tiger


There was an ancient G recian boy,-
Who played upon the fiddle,
Sometimes high, sometimes low,
Sometimes in the middle:
And all day long beneath the shade -
He lunched on prunes and marmalade;
But what the tunes were which he played
Is certainly a rnde
(,- i


>7Thrree tigers,
;^?- "gaunt
. and ravenous,
" Came from the
gloomy wood,
Intent to slay
the fiddler,
But his
music .-
toogood;
S, ':Soround
i,_ -~ about
him once
they
filed,
Till,
bythe
melody
beguiled,
S :T~hey sat
them soft-
F 1'l1y down and
tgers couiled,
v s's As only
Tigers could.






A TIGER TALE.


And thus beguiled, those tigers smiled
S throughout the livelong day
ULtil, at length, there was not left
Another tune to play.


.. -t What happened
I then I do not
know:
I was not there
to see.
,t when a
an runs short

Can tigers
be appeased
with prunes,
Or marmalade

FTT-9b- and silver spoons?
That's, what perplexes me.





THE TRUE STORY OF MARCO POLO.

BY NOAH BROOKS.


(This series was begun in the June number.]
CHAPTER XIX.

THE WONDERS OF INDIA.

MARCO'S description of the pearl-fishery of
Ceylon is not only very interesting, but also
truthful. The general features of the pearl-
fishery of to-day are the same as in his time.
The name "Maabar," which Marco gives to
the region described, means probably that which
we now know as the Coromandel coast. The
point which he calls Bettelar is undoubtedly
Patlam, on the coast of Ceylon. The shark-
charmers, of whom Marco speaks, are still in
existence. They pretend to be able to charm
the sharks so that they will not attack the


divers. The secret which they have is usually
bequeathed from father to son, and never goes
out of the family; and it is believed by all the
natives and by many foreigners that they do
really keep away the sharks. Marco says:

When you leave the Island of Seilan and sail westward
about 60 miles, you come to the great Province of
MAABAR, which is styled INDIA THE GREATER; it is
the best of all the Indies, and is on the mainland.
In this Province there are five kings, who are own
brothers. I will tell you about each in turn. The
Province is the finest and noblest in the world.
At this end of the Province reigns one of those five
Royal Brothers, who is a crowned King, and his name
is SONDER BANDI DAVAR. In this kingdom they find
fine and great pearls; and I will tell how they are got.
The sea here forms a gulf between the Island of Seilan
and the mainland. And all round this gulf the water


509







THE TRUE STORY OF MARCO POLO.


has a depth of no more than Io or 12 fathoms, and in
some places no more than two fathoms. The pearl-
fishers take their vessels, great and small, and proceed
into this gulf, where they stop from the beginning of
April till the middle of May. They go first to a place
called BETTELAR, and then go 60 miles into the gulf.
Here they cast anchor and shift from their large vessels
into small boats. The merchants divide into various
companies, and each of these must engage a number of
men on wages, hiring them for April and half of May.
Of all the produce they have first to pay the King, as his
royalty, the tenth part. And they must also pay those
men who charm the great fishes, to prevent them from
injuring the divers while engaged in seeking pearls
under water, one twentieth part of all that they may
take.
These fish-charmers are termed Abraiaman; and their
charm holds good for that day only, for at night they
dissolve the charm so that the fishes can work mischief
at their will. These Abraiaman know also how to charm
beasts and birds and every living thing. When the
men have got into the small boats they jump into the
water and dive to the bottom, which may be at a depth
of from 4 to 12 fathoms, and there they remain as long
as they are able. And there they find the shells that
contain the pearls, and these they put into a net bag tied
round the waist, and mount up to the surface with them,
and then dive anew. When they can't hold their breath
any longer they come up again, and, after a little, down
they go once more, and so they go on all day. These
shells are in shape like oysters or sea-hoods. And in
these shells are found pearls, great and small, of every
kind, sticking in the flesh of the shell-fish.
In this manner pearls are fished in great quantities,
for thence in fact come the pearls which are spread all
over the world. And the King of that State hath a very
great receipt and treasure from his dues upon those
pearls.

Now we come to a marvelous tale of dia-
monds, and the way they are come by, which
sounds so much like a chapter out of the Ara-
bian Nights' Entertainments" that we must
copy it entire. Marco says that after one
leaves Maabar and travels about one thousand
miles in a northerly direction, one comes to
the kingdom of Mutfili. No such kingdom
now exists, and it is supposed that by this
was meant Motupalle, in the Madras Presi-
dency.
It was in Mutfili that the Golconda diamonds
were found; and this is the tale they told Marco
of the finding of them:

Itis in this kingdom that diamonds are got; and I will
tell you how. There are certain lofty mountains in
those parts; and when the winter rains fall, which are
very heavy, the waters come roaring down the moun-


tains in great torrents. When the rains are over, and
the waters from the mountains have ceased to flow, they
search the beds of the torrents and find, plenty of dia-
monds. In summer also there are plenty to be found
in the mountains, but the heat of the sun is so great
that it is scarcely possible to go thither, nor is there
then a drop of water to be found. Moreover, in those
mountains great serpents are rife to a marvelous de-
gree, besides other vermin, and this owing to the great
heat. The serpents are also the most venomous in ex-
istence, so that any one going there runs fearful peril;
for many have been destroyed by these evil reptiles.
Now among these mountains there are certain great
and deep valleys, to the bottom of which there is no ac-
cess. Wherefore the men who go in search of the dia-
monds take with them pieces of flesh, as lean as they can
get, and these they cast into the- bottom of the valley.
Now there are numbers of white eagles that haunt those
mountains and feed upon the serpents. When the
eagles see the meat thrown down, they pounce upon it,
and carry it up to some rocky hill-top, where they begin
to rend it. But there are men on the watch, and as
soon as they see that the eagles have settled, they raise
a loud shouting to drive them away. And when the
eagles are thus frightened away the men recover the
pieces of meat, and find them full of diamonds which
have stuck to the meat down in the bottom. For the
abundance of diamonds down there in the depths of the
valleys is astonishing, but nobody can get down; and if
one could, it would be only to be at once devoured by
the serpents which are so rife there.
There is also another way of getting the diamonds.
The people go to the nests of those white eagles, of
which there are many, and-find plenty of diamonds which
the birds have carried off with the meat that was cast
into the valleys. And when the eagles themselves are
taken diamonds are found in their stomachs.
So now I have told you three different Ways in which
these stones are found. No other country but this king-
dom of Mutfili produces them, but there they are found
both abundantly and of large size. Those that are
brought to our part of the world are only the refuse, as
it were, of the finer and larger stones. For the flower
of the diamonds and other large gems, as well as the
largest pearls, are all carried to the Great Khan and
other Kings and Princes of those regions; in truth, they
possess all the great treasures of the world.

The story of the eagles and the diamonds is
one of the oldest in literature. You will find
it in the adventures of Sindbad the Sailor, in
the "Arabian Nights' Entertainments"; and as
it is very unlikely that Marco Polo ever saw
that book, which had not been translated in his
time, we may suppose that his story and that of
Sindbad had a common origin among the Per-
sians; for it appears in Persian, Chinese, Ara-
bian, Jewish, and other Oriental legends. In


510


[APRIL,






THE TRUE STORY OF MARCO POLO.


Herodotus, too, one will find a similar nar-
rative, only the substance that is obtained in
this indirect way is cinnamon; and the Arabs
procured it by a kindred device.

CHAPTER XX.
A PEEP INTO AFRICA.
THE eastern coast of Africa was an unknown
region in Marco Polo's day, and when he had
traveled so far to the southern end of Asia that
he began to get glimpses of Africa, he could
not believe that he heard reports from the
eastern side of that continent- of which he al-
ready knew something, as it formed the south-
ern border of the Mediterranean Sea. So he
speaks of Madagascar (which he calls Madei-
gascar) and Zanzibar (which he calls Zanghibar)
as though they were parts of India. If we re-
member that Marco was the first writer, Euro-
pean or Asiatic, to mention Madagascar by
that name, and almost the first to give the
world any information concerning that unknown
land, we may excuse the fact that his geography
is sometimes mixed. But his descriptions of
the people and the animals of eastern Africa
are pretty accurate, as may be seen:

They are all black, their hair is as black as pepper,
and so frizzly that even with water you can scarcely
straighten it. And their mouths are so large, their noses
so turned up, their lips so thick, their eyes so big and
blood-shot, that they look like very devils; they are in
fact so hideously ugly that the world has nothing to show
more horrible.
There are also lions that are black and quite different
from ours. And their sheep are all exactly alike in color:
the body all white and the head black; no other kind of
sheep is found there, you may rest assured. They have
also many giraffes. This is beautiful creature, and I must
give you a description of it. Its body is short and some-
what sloped to the rear, for its hind legs are short while
the fore legs and the neck are both very long, and thus
its head stands about three paces from the ground. The
head is small, and the animal is not at all mischievous.
Its color is all red and white in round spots, and it is
really a beautiful object.
The women of this Island are the ugliest in the world,
with their great mouths and big eyes and thick noses.
The people live on rice and flesh and milk and dates;
and they make wine of dates and of rice and of good
spices and sugar. There is a great deal of trade, and
many merchants and vessels go thither.
It was somewhere in eastern Africa that
Marco heard that the marvelous and gigantic


bird, the Roc, existed. Stories like this, no
doubt, served to shake the faith of the Vene-
tians in the truth of the tales of the Polos when
they returned to their native land. Marco tells
the tale here with some '" grains of salt," as you
will see:

You must know that this Island lies so far south that
ships cannot go further south or visit other Islands in
that direction, except this one and that other of which
we have to tell you, called Zanghibar. This is because
the sea-current runs so strong towards the south that
the ships which should attempt it never would get back
again. Indeed, the ships of Maabar which visit this Isl-
and of Madeigascar, and that other of Zanghibar, arrive
thither with marvelous speed, for great as the distance
is, they accomplish it in 2o days, while the return voyage
takes them more than 3 months. Thisis because of the
strong current running south, which continues with such
singular force and in the same direction at all seasons.
'T is said that in those other Islands to the south,
which the ships are unable to visit because this strong
current prevents their return, is found the bird Gryphon,
which appears there at certain seasons. The description
given of it is, however, entirely different from what our
stories and pictures make it. For persons who had been
there and had seen it told Messer Marco Polo that it
was for all the world like an eagle, but onc'indeed of
enormous size; so big in fact that its wings covered an
extent of 30 paces, and its quills were 12 paces long, and
thick in proportion. And it is so strong that it will


AN ETHIOPIAN SHEEP.

seize an elephant in its talons and carry him high into
the air, and drop him so that he is smashed to pieces;
having so killed him, the bird gryphon swoops down upon
him and eats him at leisure. The people of those isles
call the bird Ruc, and it has no other name. So I wot
not if this be the real gryphon, or if there be another


8s971.






THE TRUE STORY OF MARCO POLO;


manner of bird as great. But this I can tell you for
certain, that they are not half lion and half bird as our
stories do relate; but enormous as they be, they are
fashioned just like an eagle.
The Great Khan sent to those parts to inquire about
these curious matters, and the story was told by those
\who went thither. He also sent to procure the release
of an envoy of his who had been despatched thither, and
had been detained; so both those envoys hadmanywon-
derful things to tell the Great Khan about those strange
islands, and about the birds I have mentioned. They
brought (as I heard) to the Great Khan a feather of the
said Rue, which was stated to measure 9o spans, whilst
the quill part was two palms in circumference, a marvel-
ous object The Great Khan was delighted with it, and
gave great presents to those who brought it. They also
brought two boar's tusks, which weighed more than 14
pounds a piece; and you may gather how big the boar
must have been that had teeth like that! They related,
indeed, that there were some of these boars as big as a
great buffalo; There are also numbers of giraffes and
wild asses; and in fact a marvelous -number of wild
beasts of strange aspect.

The measurements that were common in
Marco Polo's time are not so familiar nowa-
days; but if the readers of ST. NICHOLAS want


SI

THE ROC, AFTER AN ANCIENT PERSIAN DRAWING.


to figure out the dimensions of Marco's big bird,
a pace may be reckoned as equal to two and a
half feet, a span to nine inches, and a palm
to four inches.
The fable of the Rukh, or Roc, is one of the
oldest in the world-as old as that other which
relates the adventures of the men who got their
diamonds from the valley of the serpents in


such -curious fashion; and, like that, we find it
in the story of Sindbad the Sailor. But scien-
tific research has proved that some such colos-
sal bird did exist in ancient times. There have
been found in Madagascar the remains of an
immense bird, and also a fossil egg of the mon-
ster. This egg, which is in the British Mu-
seum, is thirteen and a quarter inches long and
six and a half inches in diameter; its contents
would be equal to two and a half gallons. If
the bird were constructed on the model of the
eagle, for instance, its egg, comparing it with
that of the eagle, would require a bird so big
that its quills would be ten feet long and its
wings would spread over thirty feet.
SIn New Zealand have been found the bones
of a great bird called the Moa by the natives;
this was a lazy and stupid creature, incapable
of flying, and not unlike the ostrich in structure
and habit. The Moa, or Dinornis, as it is named
by the scientists, was over ten feet high. Not
long since, there were found, beside the re-
mains of a Moa, the bones of a still bigger bird
which resembled the eagle, and was evidently a
bird of prey twice as big as the Moa. If this
creature lived on the Moa as its prey, why may
not some.other gigantic bird, like the Roc, have
preyed on the great bird whose egg and bones
were found in Madagascar ?
The next succeeding chapters of Marco
Polo's book are taken up chiefly with accounts
of the wars of Kublai Khan, with which we
have no great concern. Then he skips to the
far North, and tells us of the wandering Tartars
of that region, and of the manners and customs
of Siberia.
His description of the far North made no
such profound impression on the mind of Eu-
rope as was made by his account of the coun-
tries in the southern and eastern parts of
Asia, and need not detain us.
Now we have come to the end of Marco
Polo's book, and we cannot better end our
extracts from it than with the epilogue, or con-
cluding address, which Rusticiano, or Ramusio,
or some of the earliest copyists, put down here
as a finish to the whole:
CONCLUSION.
And now ye have heard all that we can tell you about
the Tartars and the Saracens and their customs, and


[APRIL,







1897.] THE TRUE STORY OF MARCO POLO. 513
--- constantly, Venetians and
Genoese and Pisans, and
many others, that every-
body knows all about it,
and that is the reason that
I pass it over and saynoth-
S. '- ing of it.
.* *. .. Of the manner in which
""" '"' AI' ;* "-i'-- we took our departure
A'.- from the Court of the
..Great Khan you have
] heard at the beginning
i"6 of the Book, in that chap-
9-1F ,' ,, .. 'P ter where we told you of
all the vexation and trouble
that Messer Maffeo and
Messer Nicolo and Messer
SMarco had about getting
the Great Khan's leave to
Sgo; and in the same chap-
S,. ter is related the lucky
AA c- chance that led to our de-
TiEr S O'. parture. And you may be
Sure that but for that lucky
r rv ir a b chance, we should never
have got away in spite of
all our trouble, and never
have got back to our coun-
try again. But I believe
.. it was God's pleasure that
s" a-bo -w we should get back in or-
... der that people might learn
FROM A DRAWING BY R. SWAIN SIFFORD about the things that the
THE ROC'S EGG. AS IMAGINED BY AN AMERICAN ARTIST. world contains. For ac-
cording to what has been
likewise about the other countries of the world, as far as said in the introduction at the beginning of the Book,
our researches and information extend. Only we have there never was a man, be he Christian or Saracen, or
said nothing whatever about the GREATER SEA and the Tartar or Heathen, who traveled over so much of the
provinces that lie round it, although we know it thor- world as that noble and illustrious citizen of the City
oughly. But it seems to me a needless and useless task of Venice, Messer Marco, the son of Messer Nicolo Polo.
to speak about places which are visited by people every
day. For there are so many who sail all about that sea So ends the great traveler's book.
THE END.


ASIATIC WARRIORS OF POLO'S TIME. FROM AN ILLUSTRATION IN HIS BOOK.


VoL. XXIV.-65.












THE HORSESHOE OF LUCK.


By RUDOLPH F. BUNNER.


S NLESS I find some ber-
ries," he said, "we shall
have only the empty
blue bowl for supper."
And again he brushed
aside the bramble-
bushes and docks and
mullens that grew
-above his head, and
looked along the
hedgerow and up the dim little road.
Up the little road to where it grew misty
and lonesome looked little Jan; and there he
saw a horseman, small, and afar off, coming to-
ward him. The horse, fat, short, and white,
plashed the damp earth as he came nearer and
nearer; and afar off Jan saw the rider's smile
like the smile of a grinning imp, good-natured,
strange, and goblin-like as his body, legs, and
ears. His eyes twinkled like little, distant stars
in the coming twilight as he noticed that Jan
was watching his approach.
Berries ?" cried the little figure on horse-
back. Pick the berries by your head."
And Jan looked at the berries he was stand-
ing near.
His hand reached for the fruit, but his
eyes settled on the stranger; and as they
took in his queer style of dress, his fat little
stomach, his broad, grinning features, they
grew round and wide, till his mouth followed
suit and breathed forth a wondering 0 of
surprise.
You never saw any one like me, did you ?"
asked the rider. "You ought to take a good
look at me, so I '11 go home with you, and
spend the night at your house." His words
bubbled out as water flows from a round bottle.
Come, you hungry little boy with the yellow
cap!-but first pick up those eggs near your
feet."
Jan stared, and slowly turned his eyes from


his new friend to the ground; then he picked
up the eggs, and fixed his eyes on him again.
And here in my wallet," cried the horse-
man, "is enough for the rest of the supper.
Well, well, we are in -in -good fortune! "
"You are Luck! screamed Jan, rushing
forward. "You are Luck! And my father
has waited so long for you! His berries and


"HIS HAND REACHED FOR THE FRUIT, BUT HIS EYES SETTLED
ON THE ST) 4GER."

eggs fell from his hands as he rushed at the
stranger; but his friend, with a merry twist of
his foot, caught them before they touched the







THE HORSESHOE OF LUCK.


ground and held them, while Jan clasped and
clung to his leg, and Jan's features grew light
with a glow of joy.
The horse, who looked steadily down the
road with his comfortable eyes, moved forward
a little; his hoofs slowly paced over the ground,
--each hoof, brown and wide, spread out like
the shell of a horseshoe crab,- and he carried
Jan with him, anchored to Luck's foot like a
happy barnacle. When the little boy detached
himself, and frisked in front and looked the
horse full in the face, jumping backward as- he
did so, he saw how wise he must be or was
he so wise? Was he only quiet and stupid?
There seemed one expression behind another,
like the changing leaves of a silver poplar,-
and which was the real one? Jan did not know;
he did not care; he patted the horse's front
face, his fingers stroked the fuzzy hair over the
long, hard bone between his eyes, and then he
harked back to Luck, and thumped his fat
wallet.
There 's supper in that for us all," smiled
Luck. "We should have all we want to-night,
even if we had no berries, eh ? "
"Yes And what is your horse's name?"
cried Jan.
"Well, Contentment.' Contentment ought
to go with Luck, ought n't it ?"
"Yes, yes!" said Jan. "See, how fast we
have come; that little house is father's, where
the door swings crooked."
"But the gate is half off its hinges, so that
evens things up," answered Luck. "We 'l1 jump
it, my horse. You need n't open it for me. It
needs careful use-your gate, your house, your
chimney. I hope your chimney will last while
we cook our supper."
Of course it will if you 're with us," an-
swered Jan, readily, as they turned from the
road to the path to the house.
But before they reached the door a man, tall
and gaunt, with dreary eyes that still had a look
of patient hope in them, came out on the step.
His arms went up in the air and his face broke
into a smile of relief for he had waited long
for Luck, and now he knew him. Then he
gave a backward call over his shoulder to his
wife, and stepped forward as the white form
of Contentment vaulted over the gate. The


hind hoof struck the tottering post as it did so,
but the post did not fall, though a sharp clinking
sound cut the damp twilight air and a shiny,
ringing horseshoe, loosened from the beast's


.'A

S-. ,


"'I CAN KEEP IT, CAN I NOT-A HORSESHOE FROM YOUR
OWN WHITE HORSE'S FOOT?' HE CRIED ANXIOUSLY."

foot, trundled and bounced to where the man
stood, and circled down on the moss-green
gravel at his feet. And as it fell at his feet he
dropped on his knees and grasped it. "I can
keep it, can I not-a horseshoe from your own
white horse's foot ? he cried anxiously, look-
ing, as he spoke, up into the twisting, merry
face of Luck.
Of course, of course! I have plenty,"
nodded his guest, grinning at him between the
horse's sleepy ears. "Well, will your little boy
take him to the shed ? "
I will- I will myself," said the man, rising
and hanging his new treasure over his arm
where it shone like a silver bracelet; he waved
his hand toward the doorway where his wife


515







THE HORSESHOE OF LUCK.


~;


"HE WAS KNEELING BEFORE THE FIRE."


and little girl appeared. My wife will show Luck shot over the horse's head, landing, feet
you in, and I will be back at once -at once." first, alert, and with the eggs unbroken, before


"AND THEN THEY SAT DOWN TO SUPPER."


516


[APRIL,







THE HORSESHOE OF LUCK.


the wife and the little girl, who stood in the
doorway. They both bowed, courtesied, moved
aside, and smiled shyly and hopefully, gazed
deprecatingly at the novel guest, pushed wider
open the door for him, and Luck entered the
house.
Hand in hand the mother and the little girl
Gertrude came after him, softly and quietly.
He was kneeling before the fire, and at his
breath the green
wood that, as
it smoked and
smoldered had .
given forth little "
plaintive whist-
les and sounds
as though it
was crying to be
taken back to
the forest, stop-
ped all this and
changed the tune t.,
a dance of red ai '
yellow flames, and [,,h -
shone over Luck': n -
chievous features, .-*v.. r ri:
mother's pale fac.-, r .:r
Gertrude's open. L.li,:i
eyes, over Jan's r....i .i
cheeks, and spar: ..: i ._,n
the mist of tears of gri- 'at
tude and raindropi:, ,.. ,
the gaunt feature- ..:,t thI_-
man. He had cone L,..k.
for he had left C.:ticnlt-
ment moored in the one
sheltered corner of the
old and rickety stable "HE SHOWED THEM
where the rainy mist now
thick in the air could not reach and chill him.
They watched Luck-Luck who acted as
cook-who emptied his rusty fat wallet for
supper, who fanned the smoke up the chimney,
and who even found time for the candle, and
trimmed and snuffed the candle wick until the
flame grew bright.
And then they sat down to supper, huddled
at one end of the table, that the long delayed
visitor might not be crowded and that he might
be pleased by the courtesy shown him.


Some eggs ? cried the head of the house,
pushing the dish quietly forward-
Or, would you rather have some berries to
finish your supper with ?" murmured the wife,
as she caught Luck's roving eye.
It went merrily on, the supper, and Luck's
hobgoblin smile flashed over his face, came, and
flitted away.
"What did you do with the horseshoe?"
whispered the man's wife to him.
It 's over the door. right enough," he re-
-.i].-Ii. I 1.l. d hid no nails, but to-
rn.-.rr.:', \ill d.:.-., there was a hook
i!i :,l I in. i- t ic on for the time.
LEur %ne h.i.;e better than that
.irhi u"': and his lean feat-
ir,; .-nimiled in a rusty way
t r his guest, as though
I ey were not used
r.-. such antics.
When they fin-
S; -tied, Luck turned
.-ward the children,
and for the rest of
S;the drizzly, damp
I "evening, indoors,
cozy and com-
fortable, Luck
amused them.
He showed
o them how to
tumble down-
i stairs without
getting hurt-
with no bumps
when it was
done, how
HOW TO TUMBLE DOWNSTAIRS WITHOUT to drop the
GETTING HURT."
glass and chi-
na, the little they had, so it would not break.
He laughed and frolicked with them, and chased
over the little house like a lively kitten.
"Where shall we put him? asked the man,
when their visitor for the moment had frisked
upstairs.
In our room, of course; we must sleep in
the one opposite," answered his wife.
"But you forget that the roof leaks in that
one," he replied uneasily, as a gust of wind
came, and a thud sounded from upstairs.


1897.]


tt






THE HORSESHOE OF LUCK.


"Was that Luck?" cried the woman anx-
iously.
Oh, mother!-the big old birds' nest has
blown down on the roof," came the voice of
Jan from above.
Sure enough it had, and there it had lodged,
over the leak, so as to keep dry the room they
were to sleep in.
It was late when they went to bed, for Luck,
with the children, now bethought him to find
things in the house long hidden or mislaid.
Where there 's little to lose there 's less to find;
yet a penny and a bent sixpence came to light,
and other things followed, little in all, it must
be confessed, but enough to keep the whole
family awake and excited until a late hour.


the little old clock kept up their race as the
hours went by, the one hand always winning
because it has the longest leg and the other
sleeps too much. The leaves outside grew
heavy with moisture, and the sly and creeping
mist covered the house, the weedy garden, the
fields -
Splash !
A drop had fallen full on the nose of the
sleeping man, waking him from his dreams of
good times.
Splash !
Another came from the leak above his head
that the dislodged birds' nest had stopped up.
He bounded out of bed and faced the dark-
ness of early morning. Groping and chilled,


"THEY ALL STARTED OUT, GOING WHERE THE HORSE'S FOOTPRINTS LED THEM."


Then, when he was ready, Luck was shown
to his room. He closed the door, and with a
merry bound they heard him land in the mid-
dle of the bed; and then they themselves went
to their rooms, happy and sleepy, to be ready
for the morning.
Over the house quiet settled, and the out-
side noises that. the merriment had drowned
before could make themselves heard: the
swish of the boughs when the breeze blew and
they rubbed themselves against the house and
wrote their names in the language of the trees
on the weather-stained and faded clapboards;
the drip, drop, drip of the rain from the worn
and sloping eaves. Downstairs the hands of


he lit a candle. The rain had stopped, though
the cold mist still hung round the house, and
the soaked birds' nest had ceased to keep the
ceiling dry.
I wonder if these things happen when Luck
is dozing? he asked himself, and, sleepy and
annoyed, he started off to wake his visitor.
The door of Luck's lodging-place was open,
but when he reached there, and the flame of
the candle straightened itself out and lit the
room, he saw an empty bed!
Now he was well awake himself. He called
out to the rest of the family, he ran down-
stairs, he looked in the shed, where no fat white
horse was to be found, but only a few foot-


518


[APRIL,






THE HORSESHOE OF LUCK.


prints, fast fading in the wet earth,
of the big. round Ohoes.
He turnd b.ck to theli
house, iiid:l :.,: .,- .
for !ri.o imr- .1t
lookin.- the lic
horse-lioe :r r
the do.- w:i, .'.
hanging











i'


./
.f ,


"'I LEFT YOU,' SAID LUCK, 'BECAUSE OF YOUR OWN MISTAKE.
YOU TRUSTED TO ME-YOU TRUSTED TO LUCK!'"

with the points down, and wondered if the
luck as well as the rain was running out of
them. He ran inside and called to the rest
of the family to follow; and, half-dressed, they
all started out, going where the horse's foot-
prints led them.
It makes one all the more angry not to know
just whom to be angry with; but as he ran and
stumbled and shaded the candle flame with his
hand, he felt that he had been badly--yes,
very badly -treated. The road seemed long,
the day struggled but slowly into its place, and
the light was dim and faint.
His anger kept him warm for a while, but
the rest of the family, not being keyed up to the
same pitch, without speaking chattered from the
cold and chill, and squirmed and shrugged up
their shoulders as they chased along through
the puddles and mud, and splashed and stum-
bled on, led by the blowzed, flickering light
from the flame that still hung on to the wick
of the tallow dip smoking, wavering, yellow.


"I hear his horse's hoofs
splashing! cried their leader.
"We shall soon catch him "
S" Ah ah !" he cried again,
as through the lightening mist
he saw the white tail of the
horse. Here he is-here!"
and rushing alongside of Luck
She grasped at the saddle with
one hand, half running and
walking meanwhile; for Luck
S looked straight ahead, and made
no effort to stop till his horse came
to a standstill of itself.
Oh! are n't you ashamed of your-
,, el," cried the man, "to treat me so,
r r my waiting for you all these years !
\\I-at have I not put up with on your ac-
c:,..int? And now-now to break your
promise and play me a trick like this-"
I mIike no promises," answered Luck,
SI-:.-i I break none. I left you, not because
\.:oi c%: ,.ild not even nail my horseshoe over your
door, but hung it upside down so the luck ran
out at the ends; but because of your own mis-
take. Do you not know what it was? You
trusted to me. You trustedto Luck! Ah, ha!-"
As the wife, Jan, and Gertrude came up, the
shoulders of Luck looked square and unfriendly
while he faded in the mist. But he gave one
backward glance when almost out of sight,
and his hobgoblin smile was seen once more.
They all went home, and the gaunt man
took the lesson home with him. And when
Luck comes again, as he will, he will make
a longer visit, for he will find the chimney
plastered, the gate upon its hinges, the door
swinging straight and even, and with the horse-
shoe nailed the only way a horseshoe should
be nailed, and that is as you see it here:


Sib .i -'


x897.]









- -i


p~


* A.~~


THE PROUD YOUNG MOTHER: "HE MAY BE PRESIDENT YET!"


NANNY AND JACK.

BY H. C. BUNNER.


HER uncle gave little Nanny
A Jack-in-the-box with a squeak;
But the squeak of the Jack was nothing
To Nanny's terrified shriek.


But soon she conquered her terrors,
And spoke, like a brave little tot.
"You think you are real," said Nanny;
"But, truly, you know you 're not!"


W6Wq*WR11r_







FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK.


THE VOYAGE OF THE NODDIES.

BY ALBERT BIGELOW PAINE.


OH, the Noddies are starting for Lullaby-land,
And the wind down the river is fair,
And the Noddies belong to the Rockabye Band,
And they sail in the Rockabye Chair.
They.are drifting away on the river of dreams
To the light of a luminous sea,
And they murmur a song, and its melody
seems
Like a balm of contentment to me.
Here we go--there we go -
Never mind. where we go -
Out to the shores of a shimmering sea:
Cradled in happiness-
Laden with happiness,
Love and contentment for you and for me.


And what shall the Noddies discover at last
When they anchor in Lullaby-land?
The fleets of the fairy-folk flittering past,
And the Patty-cake men on the sand.
And the Patties shall paddle their marvelouspies,
And the fairies sail over the sea;
And the Noddies shall watch, and with won-
dering eyes
Come back in the morning to me.
Here we go-there we go-
Now we know where we go -
Back from the shores of the shimmering sea:
Leaving all nappiness--
Laden with happiness,
Love and caresses for you and for me.


AN EASTER JINGLE.

By HARRIET BREWER STERLING.

WITH bits of stick and wisps of hay I 've made a little nest;
I 've chosen from my Easter eggs the ones that I like best;
And now I '11 get the old white hen, and set her on all six,
So she '11 hatch out some red and blue and pink and yellow chicks.




THE CLOSE OF THE DAY.

BY M. L. V.


WHAT is it comes at the close of the day,
W\'hen the old world 's tired and slowly
swings ?
Supper-time, bed-time, and Nur--: to say.
- Put up the t:y: aind the [lay-house
things "
And we watch the -.hadows that glide and Call
On the shining floor and the nursery wall.
VOL. XXIV.-66.


But that is n't all! Then we creep upstairs
And soon begins a great pillow-fight,
As we chase one another over the chairs.
* Then \\w jump into bed, and we say
G (.-',:.d-night! "
And the tired old world more slowly
sn ing-.
And Mother ;its in the dark, and sings.


;-,


1













THE CURIOSITY-SHOP.


BY CLIFFORD HOWARD.


A HORSE PROBLEM.

ONCE a farmer who had a number of valuable horses,
when he died, left his horses to his three sons to be
divided as follows: James, the eldest, was to receive one-
half; John was to have one-fourth, and little Jacob, the
youngest, was to get the "remaining sixth." When the
horses were counted it was found that: there were just
eleven of them. Now, accordingto the will,'James was
entitled to one-half of them; but as one-half of eleven is
five and a half, James was in a fix. John was no better
off, because his share of one-fourth would give him two
horses and three-fourths of a horse, while little Jacob's
portion would be only one whole horse and five-sixths of
a horse. To chop the horses into fractions was not to be
thought of. The boys puzzled over the problem a long
time, but were unable to solve it; so at last they called
upon a kind neighbor and asked him if he could help
them out of their difficulty. This neighbor was a very
smart and very good old man, and he told the boys he
would be over the next day and straighten the matter
for them. So the following morning the eleven horses
were driven out into a field and placed in a row, and
pretty soon the old neighbor came along leading one of
his horses, which he put at the end of the line. Then
there were twelve horses altogether. Next he turned
to the eldest son, and he said: "James, my boy, you
may take the first six horses in the row, because six are
one-half of twelve; and that 's your share." Then he
told John to take the next three horses, "because," said
he, "three are one-fourth of twelve; and that 's your
share." "And now, Jake," said he to the youngest son,
"you may take the next two, because two are one-sixth
of twelve; and that 's your share."
So James received six, John received three, and Jacob
received two, making a total of exactly eleven horses;
and before the boys could recover from their astonish-
ment, the kind old neighbor got up on his horse and
rode away.
UNCLE SAM."

WHEN we talk of the United States government in a
familiar sort of way we call it Uncle-Sam "; and you
have often seen pictures of Uncle Sam-a long, lean,
old-fashioned Yankee, with a high hat and with a swal-
low-tail coat and breeches marked with the stars and
stripes of the flag. The way in which the United States
came to be called Uncle Sam is this:
During the war of 1812 the United States govern-
ment entered into a contract with a man by the name of
Elbert Anderson to furnish supplies to the army. When


the United States buys anything from a contractor, an
inspector is always appointed to see that the goods are
what the contract calls for, and that the government
gets full value. In this case the government appointed
a man by the name of Samuel Wilson, who was always
called Uncle Sam by those who knew him. He in-
spected every package and cask that came from Elbert
Anderson, the contractor, and if he found that the con-
tents were all right, the package or cask was marked
with the letters "E. A.- U. S."-the initials of the
contractor and of the United States. The man whose
duty it was to do this marking was a jovial sort of fel-
low, and when somebody asked him what these letters
meant, he said they stood for Elbert Anderson and
Uncle Sam. Everybody, including" Uncle Sam" Wilson
himself, thought this was a very good joke; and by and
by it got into print, and before the end of the war it was
known all over the country; and that is .the way the
United States received its name of" Uncle Sam."
Mr. Wilson, the original Uncle Sam," died at Troy,
N. Y., in 1854, at the age of eighty-four.

SHAKING HANDS.

WHEN we meet a friend we shake hands, and we al-
ways shake with the right hand, because we have been
taught that it is not proper to offer the left one; but very
few of us ever stop to ask where this custom of shaking
hands came from, and why it is the right hand is used.
Like most other customs, shaking hands originally had
an important meaning and served a useful purpose,
which is now generally forgotten. Before people had
become as peaceable as they are now, nearly every man
always carried a sword or dagger, so that he might be
ready to fight at a moment's notice; for in those days
people were easily insulted, and it did not take much
to start a quarrel. Under these circumstances it was
necessary for men to be on their guard; and so when
one man met another coming along the road, he was
never certain whether the other would turn out a friend
or an enemy. If both were in a kindly mood and
wanted to show that there was no ill-feeling, each
grasped the other by the right hand. As the right hand
is the one with which the sword is drawn, it was a token
that the one who allowed his right hand to be grasped
did not intend to harm the other man, and that he placed
himself at his mercy. Of course, as time went on and
people were not so ready to kill one another, this cus-
tom no longer had the same meaning; but as folks had
got into the habit of shaking hands, they kept it up, and
Share doing it to this day; and we still insist that the right
522


.0 -!.






THE CURIOSITY-SHOP.


hand shall be used, just as though we-were afraid that
our friend might think that we intended to draw a sword
on him if we offered the left hand.

HUMBLE PIE.
WHEN we say a person eats humble pie we mean
that he is made to feel ashamed of himself by having to
apologize for some wrong-doing, or to admit that he
has made a mistake. Now, that is what we mean when
we talk of "eating humble pie"; but the question is,
what is humble pie ?
In the old feudal times of England, when one of the
barons gave a hunting-feast, it was customary to have
pies made of venison. Of course, the lord and his
guests were served with the very best, but for those of
lower rank, who ate at the foot of the table, the pies
were made of the umbles, or poorer parts, of the deer,
and were therefore called umble pies.
As those who ate the humble pies were those who
held humble positions in the baron's household, the
humble pie after awhile became confused with the hum-
ble position, and in that way arose the idea that he who
"ate humble pie" was some one who was humbled or
humiliated.
"HE 'S-A BRICK."
WHEN a boy does something that is particularly
good or noble his comrades say, He 's a brick! for
to call a fellow a brick is as high a compliment as
one boy can pay another. If we stop to think about it,
though, it seems rather strange that a brick should be
chosen as a standard for measuring the worth of a boy.
There is surely nothing very wonderful or fine about a
brick. But, like a great many other sayings that do
not appear to have much sense, we.shall find, by looking
up the origin of this expression, that it started out with
a very sensible meaning. In order to get at its begin-
ning, we have to go back into ancient history for a dis-
tance of nine hundred years before Christ- all the way
back to the time of Lycurgus, the great 'Spartan ruler.
Plutarch tells us that Lycurgus had a great many wise
and curious notions as to how people should live and
how the affairs of the country should be managed.
One of his ideas was that there was no necessity for
building a wall about a town if the soldiers were prop-
erly trained to protect the place. On one occasion an
ambassador from a neighboring country came to see
Lycurgus, and he asked how it-was that he had no
walls around the town. "But we have walls," replied
Lycurgus; "and if you will come with me I will show
-them to you." Thereupon he took his guest out upon
the plains where the army was drawn up in battle array,
and; pointing to the ranks of soldiers, he said: "These
are the walls of Sparta, and every man is a brick." So
you see when the expression was first used it had a
great deal more sense than it has now.

DUNCE.
DID you ever hear of a word that became so changed
in its meaning that it finally meant just the opposite of


what it did at first ? Well, the word dunce is just such
a word.- It seems hard to believe that at one time it
meant a person who was smart and learned, but that is
exactly what it did about six hundred years ago. At
that time there lived a very learned man named John
Duns Scotus, generally known by the simple name of
Duns. He was at the head of a set of philosophers
known as schoolmenn," who spent their time in think-
ing and teaching great thoughts. Those who believed
what Duns taught were called Dunsrnen or Duncemen,
and were looked upon as very wise men. But after a
while there came another set of philosophers and teach-
ers who did, not believe in what the schoolmen taught,
and the majority of the people took sides with the new
set of thinkers. The Duncemen made themselves very
unpopular by opposing these folks, and it was not long
before the term Duncemen or Dunce was applied to one
opposed to true knowledge or who did not know much
about it; and that is how the word dunce came to be
reversed in meaning.

THE DOLLAR MARK.

SPERHAPS some of you have sometimes wondered why
we use this sign, $, to represent dollars. Well, a great
many people have wondered the same thing, and there
have been many theories to account for it, but the one
which seems to me most likely is this:
Before America became an independent country some
of the colonies particularly those in the South used
certain Spanish coins for money. Among these was
one called a dollar, which was equal to eight reqls, a
real being a small silver coin, also Spanish. Because it
was equal to eight reals, this dollar was generally known
as "a piece of eight." Now, when the merchants and
others who kept accounts wanted to put down in their
books the different amounts of money received and paid
out, they had to have some convenient way of telling the
difference between the dollars and the reals. So, when-
ever they wanted to represent dollars, or pieces of eight,
they made the figure 8 and drew two lines through it
like this, $, so that it would not be mistaken for a fig-
ure. The figures placed after this canceled 8 were then
known to be dollars; and the reals were distinguished
by placing a period in front of the figures, just as we
divide dollars and cents nowadays. When America
became independent, this same sign was used for the
United States dollars. But, as time went on, people
forgot that the dollar used to be "a piece of eight," and
so they didn't bother to draw a complete 8 when making
the dollar-sign, and that is why it looks as it does to-day.
Talking of dollar-marks reminds me that the letter L,
with a stroke drawn through it like this, is the sign
used to represent pounds in English money. At first
this may seem as strange as the dollar-mark, but it is
easily understood when we know that the Latin word
for pounds is libra, and we therefore see that it is simply
the first letter of the Latin word that is used. It is also
explained that a d is used to represent pence in English
money, because the Latin for penny is denarius.


523













THE LETTER-BOX.


EDITORIAL NOTE.

A FRIENDLY correspondent, Mr. E. L. Hale, has writ-
ten to the editor about the code of flag-signals published
in Mr. Shelton's serial, "The Last Three Soldiers."
The code will be found on page 121 of the number for
December, 1896. Mr. Hale writes that the code in-
actual use by the United States Signal Corps is an
exact reversal of that given by Mr. Shelton.
He is right; but during the Civil War several dif-
ferent codes were in use, and among them that given
in the story.
Our correspondent, however, says very justly that if
boys are to learn any code, they should learn the code
now in use, so that they may be ready to act as signal-
men if necessary. The suggestion is a good one; and
the code of signals in actual use to-day is here printed
with the thanks of ST. NICHOLAS to Mr. Hale for call-
ing attention to it:
THE MYER CODE.
U. S. NAVAL CODE FOR VISUAL AND TELEGRAPHIC SIGNALING.
A...22 E... 12 I.....I M.1221 Q.I2I U..XX2 Y...X.
B. 2112 F. 2221 J. 1122 N...IX R..2 I V.1222 Z. 2222
C.. II G. 2211 K.2121 0...2I S..:'22 W.zT2I
D..222 H..x22 L..221 P. 2i2 T... X.2I22
NUMERALS.
I ..... lS 3 .....1112 5......1122 7 ......222 9..... 1221
2 .....2222 4 .....2221 6.....2211 8......21I 0..... 21E2
ABBREVIATIONS.
a.........after h........ have t..........the w........word
b.......before n..........not u ........you wi........with
c ........ can r.......... are ur....... your y.........why
x 3 .." numerals follow" or "numerals end.".. sig. 3 ..signature
End of a word................3 Repeat last word......12x. 2x1.3
End of a sentence............33 Repeatlastmessagex2I.121.121.3
End of a message ...........333 Error .................. 12. 12.3
I understand .......2. 22. 3 Movealittle totheright 2.23
Cease signaling...22. 22. 22. 333 Move a little to the left 221. 221.3

INSTRUCTIONS FOR USING THE CODE.
The whole number opposite each letter or numeral
stands for that letter or numeral.

TO SIGNAL WITH FLAG OR TORCH.
There are but one position and three motions.
The first position is with the flag held vertically in
front of the center of the body, butt of staff at height of
waist, signalman facing squarely toward the station with
which it is desired to communicate.
The first motion, or one or I," is a motion of the
flag to the right of the sender, and will embrace an arc
of 90o, starting with the vertical and returning to it, and
will be made in a plane exactly at right angles to the line
connecting the two signal stations.
The second motion, or two or "2," is a similar mo-
tion to the left of the sender.
To make the third motion, "front," or "three" or
"3," the flag is waved to the ground directly in front of
the sender, and instantly returned to the first position.
Numbers which occur in the body of a message must


be spelled out in full. Numerals may be used in signal-
ing between stations having naval-signal books, using
the code calls.
TO SEND A MESSAGE.
"To call" a station, signal its initial or call letter"
until "acknowledged." "To acknowledge," signal "I
understand," followed by its initial or "call letter."
Make a slight pause after each "letter," also after
each "front."

GALENA, ILLINOIS.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am ten years old, and this is
the second year I have taken you. My mother had the
ST. NICHOLAS when she was a little girl, and even now
enjoys looking over my magazine almost as much as I do.
I live in this old town, which has sent forth so many
men who became famous in history. Ever since the
fine statue of General Grant was given to our city by Mr.
H. H. Kohlsaat, we celebrate Grant's birthday every
year. Many former Galenians from all over the country
come here at that time.
Among the noted orators that have delivered the ad-
Sdress at the exercises are William McKinley and Chaun-
cey Depew. Once Eugene Field was here, and gave
some of his beautiful verses .at the public reception.
Your interested reader,
LEO TITUS LE BROWN, JR.

OAK PARK, ILL.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I live in Oak Park, a suburb
of Chicago. I am twelve years old. I always look for-
ward to your coming. I like the story of "Master
Skylark," and was so glad to find it was a continued
story and I also liked the story of The King's Castle
in No Man's Land." I think it teaches one to be
satisfied with what he has. If Avaro had not opened the
hundredth door, I suppose he could have gotten out all
right.
We have a little Shetland pony. His name is "Dick."
We have two carts- one with a top, and one without.
We enjoy Dick very much. We expect to have a great
deal of fun with him this winter
I remain your devoted reader,
LAMBOURNE SMITH.

MENLO PARK, CAL.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I thought that some of your
readers might like to know something about this part
of the world. I live on a hill about a mile and a half
from the Stanford University. We have a fine view
from our house. We can see the Lick Observatory on
Mount Hamilton, San Francisco Bay, and the most of
Santa Clara Valley.
It is very pleasant here, never very hot and never
very cold. We have roses and other flowers blooming
in the open air now in the middle of December.
We went out camping last summer, and crossed the
coast range of mountains, which are only three miles
from where we live. The road wound around side hills
and through cautions, with beautiful evergreen trees of
mountain laurel, manzanita, madrofia, and redwood grow-
ing close to and shading the road.
The redwood trees grow very tall and straight, and so







THE LET

close together sometimes that even a small boy cannot
pass between them.
The first night we camped at La Honda,a very pretty
valley in the mountains with a small, pebbly stream run-
ning through it. A little girl in the party ran into the
water, shoes and all. The next day we went on through
beautiful scenery to Pescadero, near Pebble Beach, on
the Pacific Ocean. A great many people go to this
beach to gather pebbles; some of them are very pretty,
and a few valuable ones have been found. They are
mostly agates, sometimes opals and carnelians and clear
quartz; one clear stone was found with a drop of fresh
water inside of it.
The beach is about two hundred yards long, and a
fresh lot of pebbles are brought up from the ocean by
every spring tide. After getting all the pebbles we
wanted we started for home, going along the Pacific
Ocean until we got to Spanishtown, on Half Moon Bay;
then we turned east and crossed the mountains to San
Mateo, and from there home.
Camping is lots of fun, but we were all glad to get
home.
We had a little black-and-tan terrier dog along, named
" Dandy," that was very watchful at night, but he would
not ride in the carriage or wagon. When we got home
he was so tired that he could hardly walk.
Your constant reader, EDWARD C. HARKINS.

BORDENTOWN, N. J.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: In looking over the volume of
ST. NICHOLAS for 1889 the other evening, I noticed the
portrait of the Japanese Crown Prince, and told my
room-mate of his adventure with the American boy who
would not remove his Tam d' Shanter. Imagine my
surprise, on turning the page, to read in print the very
tale I had just related. The name of the little American
was Baily Strange; that of his "golden-haired little
sister" was Nora.
Ever since my mother told me of the episode, on the
following evening, I have had a sort of indefinite long-
ing for that pink and white ice-cream which I might
have eaten in company of a Prince Imperial, had I not
left Baily just.before the incident occurred to go home
to bed. Yours very truly, WILLARD D. STRAIGHT.

LORETTO CONVENT, RANDWICK, SYDNEY.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: You see by my address that I
am at school at Loretto Convent, Randwick. I have
only seen one Australian letter in your magazine.
Have you ever seen any Australian flowers ? Our
grandest is, of course, the waratah; it is of a bright red
color, but it has no perfume. Another flower is called
the flannel flower:, it has leaves just like flannel, and a
center like plush. It is of a greenish white color.
I live in the Blue Mountains, which are very beautiful.
On the ascent on the east is a tunnel, and on the west a
zigzag. At the top of it you have a very fine view.
You can see the train lines down below you, and at the
bottom of it a little station with a great many tree-ferns
round it. The mountain I live on is Mount Wilson. It
is one of the highest points of the range. The tree-ferns
grow from five to twenty feet in height, and are very beau-
tiful. Mount Wilson is ascended by a beautiful avenue
of acacia, lime, wattle, plane, eucalyptus, and walnut trees.
Our harbor is another very beautiful sight. It is the
grandest in the whole world. It would take too long for
me to describe it, or else I would.
I am your little reader, ESMEY MANN.

DES MOINES, IOWA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I saw two letters from Iowa in
your December number, and thought it might interest
some of your readers to hear about its Capitol.


'TER-BOX. 525

It is quite a large building and has five domes. The
central and largest dome is covered with real gold, and
shines so that it can be seen for many miles in any
direction.
The interior of the Capitol is very beautiful. In the
center is an open space or court, and when one who is
standing there looks up, he will see, at some distance
above him, a piece of blue sky flecked with white clouds.
This is, of course, only painted, but any one who did not
know that would think it was the real sky.
The grounds of the Capitol cover about two blocks,
and are always kept in good order.
Across the street from the Capitol is the Soldiers'
Monument. This is a tall white column with a life-sized
statue on the top. Around the base of the column are
four statues of famous soldiers on horseback.
Your devoted reader, "VIOLET."

WINCHESTER, VA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have taken you for nearly
eight years, and I like you very much. I have never
seen a letter from this place. Our town has a popula-
tion of about 7000. One of the most interesting places
in our town is the old headquarters of George Washing-
ton. The battlefields lie in every direction from the
town; and my father has a collection of war relics.
I love all the stories you print, and do sincerely hope
you will last forever. Hoping you will print this letter,
I remain your reader, J. S.

CHATTANOOGA, TENN.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: This is my first letter to your
good magazine. Papa gave it to me for a Christmas pre-
sent, and I like itvery much. I live near the great Lookout
Mountain, where the Battle above the Clouds was fought.
I spent the summer there. I am also near Chicka-
mauga Park, where there was another battle fought.
Our house is right in the mountains; there are around
us Waldens Ridge, Lookout Mountain, and Missionary
Ridge. From all of these there are beautiful views.
My home is in Chattanooga, in the State of Tennessee.
Good-by from your loving reader,
ANNIE KEITH FRAZIER.

PACIFIC GROVE, CAL.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: This is a beautiful little sum-
mer resort nestled among the pines on Monterey Bay.
There is a magnificent drive extending seventeen
miles around the peninsula. The scenery along the
beaches and in the woods is delightful.
The quaint old Spanish town of Monterey, with its
old Mission founded by Junipero Serra in 1770, is only
two miles distant. The old adobe buildings -many in
ruins -with the tiled roofs, look very odd.
I love to go in bathing either in the surf or in the Del
Monte Baths. I have learned to swim well. We live
up on a hill from which there is a beautiful view of the
bay. We can see all the steamers come in. On a very
clear day we can see the houses on the opposite shore,
twenty-five miles distant. I have been all over the war-
ships Monterey," "Monadnock," "Oregon," and
"Philadelphia." The big steamship "St. Paul" was
wrecked on the rocks just below the lighthouse, a mile
or two from here, last summer.
I remain your most devoted admirer,
GEORGE R. L. H.

WANDSWORTH COMMON, LONDON, ENGLAND.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We had a sale of work last
Friday, and it was so nice that I thought you would
like to hear about it. There were about a dozen chil-







THE LETTER-BOX.


dren in it; and after we had worked about three weeks,
and made a great many things, like glove-cases, work-
bags, pin-cushions, and sachets, we sent out invitations
to all of our friends. Then when the day came a very nice
lady we knowopened it; and my little brother George gave
her a lovely bunch of yellow chrysanthemums, and then
made a bow and came away. Then everybody went
into the conservatory, which looked very pretty, as we
had put a piece of string right across, and hung all the
hanging things on it. Then we were as busy as we
could be for an hour, for everybody wanted to see an
art-gallery which we had with twenty-one funny things,
like "Sweet Seventeen" (seventeen lumps of sugar),
and "Commentators on Shakspere" (two potatoes on a
volume of Shakspere). And in the evening when we
added up the money, we found we had sold everything,
and made 8 I2s. 8d. Don't you think it was good?
And when we sent it to the ladies who keep the Creche,"
for which we had been working, they were so pleased,
and wrote us two such nice letters.
I do like you so much; but, though I have taken you
for four years, I have never written before.
From your loving little friend and admirer,
ISABEL WARNER.

NEW BEDFORD, MASS.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have made some anagrams f6r
ST. NICHOLAS, which I don't think are very good; but I
thought that they might do for poor ones. I am seven
years old, and I made these up when I was six.
Your reader, RICHARD L. KNOWLES.


I. 0 SLING MUD.
2. CANT SIDE.
3. INK PAN.
4. US RAG.


I. MOULDINGS.
2. DISTANCE.
3. NAPKIN.
4. SUGAR.


BELLERIVE, SWITZERLAND.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: This is the first time I have
written you. I have taken you for two years, and like
you very much.
I am at the Institution Sillig, learning French. This
is my second year here, and now I know French fluently.
My parents are here now. I am twelve years old. We
work all day and go to bed at nine o'clock; we wake up
at half-past seven in winter and half-past six in summer,
which I find rather early. I am now learning to fence,
and like it very much. Every Saturday we have a long
walking the mountains, here called a course; and once a
year we.have a course of three days. Last year we went
to the German Pass and this year to the St. Bernard Pass.
We started from here at three o'clock one Thursday,
for the Great St. Bernard. Everybody was dressed for
winter, as it is very cold there. We went in the train
to Vernayaz; then we walked to the Gorges de Trient,
which were beautiful. Then we went to Martigny and
stopped at the H6tel du Mont Blanc (we were twenty-
five boys). In the morning at five o'clock we went in
carriages to Orsieres, a ride of three hours, and it was
very cold. From Orsibres we walked to Lydes -a walk
of an hour. From Lydes we walked to Bourg St. Pierre,
a walk of two and a half hours. There we ate in a res-
taurant where Napoleon I. ate when going over the Great
St. Bernard Pass. Then we walked to the Cantine de
Pro, a little house, the last before the Pass that gives re-
freshments. From there it took us two hours to get up,
taking short cuts. The mule with the wagon that 'car-
ried our baggage took much more time. We arrived
there at half-past seven, and went into the dining-room,
where a fire was built. At half-past eight we went to
bed, after partaking of a frugal dinner. M. Edwin woke
us up at six o'clock, instead of five, because the monks
forgot to wake him. M. Edwin is the principal. All


night bells rang. After breakfast, which consisted of
some honey and bread and coffee, we went to see the
dogs. Some of them were beauties. For sleeping there
you do not pay the monks, but it is the custom to put
the money in the alms-box in the chapel which is in the
Hospital. We then went to say good-by to the monks.
Only two present themselves; the others pray.
We went back the same road and arrived at school at
seven o'clock. I then went and told my parents that
I had arrived and told them all about the trip; of
course they were'delighted to hear about it. Last Satur-
day we went to Les Avants by the Col de Sansloup.
Everything was covered with snow. Last year we played
football, but this year we do not, on account of the rain.
I have not much more to say now, and I cannot, as the
school-bell is ringing. Good-by, dear ST. NICHOLAS.
I am your interested reader, CH. W. EHRLICH.

We take pleasure in printing this little essay by a
young friend and correspondent whose sympathy has
been roused for horses that suffer from the use of the
check-rein:
THE CHECK.
I WONDER how many of the readers of the ST. NICH-
OLAS have ponies, or mothers and. fathers who have
horses. I most sincerely hope that their horses and
ponies are free from that act of tyranny which compels
them to wear the check-rein. It may not look to be
harmful, but it is. It hurts their windpipes and spoils
their breathing, besides causing the horse excessive dis-
comfort, and all for what reason? For fashion! Oh,
is it not enough to take almost all a horse's freedom
from him without making him submit 'to such treatment
only to suit foolish persons' ridiculous ideas as to style
and the way to make horses look stylish ?
Some people may say, "Oh, but horses look so well
with their heads up." I like to see horses hold their
heads up as well as anybody, but it is no great thing to
have them held up.
And I think this argument which I take from Anna
Sewell's fine book, Black Beauty," would not be bad to
make to an army officer. Any captain likes to have his
men hold their heads up. But how much credit would
be given him if their heads were tied to back-boards
so they could not take them down? It is just so with
horses. I should think one would take more credit
to one's self if one's horses held their heads up than
they would if they were held up. And, suppose a horse
should loose his footing; he would be far more able to
regain it if his head was free than if he were obliged to
keep it up. MARGARET HITCHCOCK.

WE thank the young friends whose names follow for
pleasant letters received: Hetty Barclay, Alice B. Paret,
Dewdrop," Emilie Kate Ruoff, Louise Keeler Cow-
drey, W. T. Pickering, Helen Criswell, Madeline D.
Hickman, D. H. Cheairs, Mentor E-, J. H. F. and
A. L. P., Chloe Wimberly Lansdale, Alice E. Goodwin,
Ruth Metcalf, Julia W. McCormick, Helen Stutzer, Su-
san S. Strong, Katherine Danforth, Frederika Denning,
Theresa Geraldine White, Eugene T. Walter, Dorothy
M., Leonora H. C., Donald E. Matheson, Amanda Brid-
get Gilbred, George Slate Simmons, M. L. Hurlbutt, Ida
Hatry, Alice Chamberlain, C. S. D. W., Emma Stuver,
Louise H. Curtis, B. C. Young, Isabel W., Harold C.
Cox, Enid Dora Bassett, Elton Rockwell Norris, Willis
T. Hanson, Jr., Mamie Arbuckle, Mary E. Conant,
Belle Quin, Helen Vera Paine, S. E. Knight, Sarah J.
Hall, Arthur T. Neely, Marion Hughes, David E. Moe-
ser, Beulah King, Bertha Penney, Florence Dolbeer,
Lillian J. Callahan, Helen Novotny, Helen W., Helen
M. Smith, L. W. 0.


526







THE RIDDLE-BOX.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE MARCH NUMBER.
DOUBLE DIAGONALS. Rob Roy. i. Ray. 2. Woo. 3. Rib. OBLIQUE RECTANGLE. I. P. 2. Mop. 3. Power. 4. Peter.
CENTRAL ACROSTIC. Napoleon. i. Tonic. 2. Grant. 3. Ap- 5. Redan. 6. Rates. 7. Nepos. 8. Sound. 9. Sneer. to. De-
ply. 4. Cooly. 5. Gelid. 6. Glean. 7. Goose. 8. Candy. mon. Ii. Ropes. i2. Nebel. 13. Sepia. 14. Lid. 15. A.
WORD-SQUARE. I. Loaf. 2. Ogre. 3. Area. 4. Feat. RIDDLE. PI-ague.
NOVEL ACROSTIC. First row, Denn)ark third row, Germany. ILLUSTRATED DIAGONAL. Morris. I. Monkey. 2. Tomato.
Cross-words: i. Dagon. 2. Elect. 3. North. 4. Mumps. 5. 3. Mortar. 4. Walus. 5. Violin. 6. Abacus.
Adapt. 6. Rends. 7. Kayak. HIDDEN NAMES. I. Washington. 2. Adams. 3. Jefferson. 4.
SOME "INTENTIONS." I. Di appointment. 2. Ornament. Madison. 5. Monroe. 6. John Quincy Adams. 7. Jackson. 8.
Experiment. 4. Attachment. 5. Concealment. 6. Treatment. 7. Van Buren. p. William H. Harrison. 10. Tyler. nL. Polk. 12.
Tenement. 8. Apartment. g.,Entanglement. Enchantment. Taylor. r3. Fillmore. 14. Pierce. 15. Buchanan. z6. Lincoln.
a. Entertainment. 12. Endowment. 13. Monument. 14. Tor- 17. Johnson. 18. Grant. i9. Hayes. 20. Garfield. 21. Arthur.
ment. 15. Announcement. 16. Merriment. 17. Tournament. 8. 22. Cleveland. 23. Ben Harrison.
Presentiment. i. Sediment. 2. Liniment. 21. Judgment. 22. NUMERICAL ENIGMA. The greatest of faults, I should say, is to
Acknowledgment. be conscious of none."-- CHARADE. Cottage.
To OUR PUZZLERs: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the 15th of each month, and should
be addressed to ST. NICHOL.As "Riddle-box," care of THE CENTURY Co., 33 East Seventeenth St., New York City.
ANsWERS TO ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE JANUARY NUMBER were received, before JANUARY i5th, from M. McG.- Jersey Quartette"
- Belle Miller Waddell-- "The Buffalo Quartette "- Two Little Brothers "-Grace Edith Thallon Helen C. McCleary Sigour-
ney Fay Nininger.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE JANUARY NUMBER were received, before JANUARY i5th, from No Name, N. Y., 4-Gladys Carpen-
ter, x Avis Carlton, 2 May L. Hall, i Arthur and Posie, i Lucille Byron Lee, 3 Enid Bassett, 6 Bessie Thayer, x Ednah W.
Knox, I- Alice M. Reilly, i The Trio," 7- Florence and Edna, i -Paul Reese, 8 Truda G. Vroom, 5- Chiddingstone, "o -
Marguerite Sturdy, 7--Mary Morgan, 3 Daniel Hardin and Co., 5- Clara F. Perkins, 2 S. Dowling, 4 Edith Baxter, I- Geo.
M. Seymour, Jr., 8 E. Everett and Fannie J., 6-" The Kittiwake," 9 Allil and Adi, 9 -Joe and I, 9 Achille Poirier, 3-Rosalie
A. Sampson, i- "Merry and Co.," 3 W. Floyd Crosby, a- Josephine Lehman, 2.


WORD-SQUARE.

I. I. Ceremonies. 2. Sluggish. 3. General direc-
tion. 4. To eat into. 5. To scatter.
LAURA M. ZINSER.


ILLUSTRATED FINAL ACROSTIC.

WHEN the five objects in the accompany-
ing illustration have been rightly guessed,
and the names placed one below another in
the order given, the last letters will spell
the name of a very distinguished poet'.

CONNECTED SQUARES.




a a *. a





I. UPPER SQUARE: I. Part of a wind-
mill. 2. A measure. 3. Part of the eye.
4. For fear of.


leather fastenings. My 94-20-54-103-83-89-107 is a
compositor. My 46-29-85-24-42-60-35-77-65 is any
aquatic animal whose external covering consists of a shell.
My 90-72-7-22-64-30-92 is the result of a burn. My
53-15-82-18-102-37-13-1 is direct. My 5-
34-48-98 is a state admitted to the Union
in 1896. My 19-62-39-69 is a State ad-
S mitted in 1846. My 11-52-32-16-96 is a
State admitted in 1890. My 63-50-78-58-
74 is a State admitted in 1820. My 47-10-
3-56-43-109 is a State admitted in 1859.
My 76-26-Ioo-105-40-23-84-88-67-80-28-
70-45 was one of the thirteen original States.
-a--= 7 CORNELIA BLIMBER."-


TRIPLE ACROSTIC.


12 23
13 a a a a 24
14 a a a a 25
15 a a 26
16 a 27
17 a a a a 28
18 a, 29
19 a 30
20a 3I 31
21 32
22 s 33


II. MIDDLE SQUARE: I. An island. 2. From I to 12, merit; 2 to 13, one of the
To tarry. 3. Tardy. 4. Observed closely. United States; 3 to 14, retinue; 4 to 15, a
III. LOWER SQUARE: I. To lacerate. 0 famous Greek poet; 5 to 16, throughout all
2. The extreme verge. 3. Long periods time; 6 to 17, a violation of law; 7 to 18,
of time. 4. A musical character. retains; 8 to 19, a place mentioned in the
H. W. E. twentieth verse of the thirteenth chapter of
Exodus; 9 to 20, proportion; o1 to 21, to
NUMERICAL ENIGMA. --- ornament; II to 22, to relinquish.
From 12 to 23, the hero of a play by
I AM composed of one hundred and ten Shakspere; 13 to 24, to increase the pos-
letters; and form a four-line verse from a sessions of; 14 to 25, to cuddle; 15 to 26,
poem by Longfellow. to keep in possession; 16 to 27, the Euro-
My 8-41-73 is cunning. My 55-25-14 pean green woodpecker; 17 to 28, to shun;
is a snare. My 86-66-6 is amasculine nick- 18 to 29, pertaining to scenery; 19 to 30, a
name. My 36-17-99-59 is to require. My Spanish sheep noted for the fineness of its
9-95-71-31 is fostered. My 44-2-101 is for wool; 20 to 31, a county in Kentucky; 21 to.
what reason. My 79-21-75-87 is an eleva- 32, inborn; 22 to 33, herds.
tion. My 110-49-91-51 is a broad smile. My 106-27- From I to II, the name of a very famous author; from
o18-12 is a conceited fellow. My 93-33-81-104 is a 12 to 22 and from 23 to 33, each name a book written
very fashionable carriage. My 4-68-61-57-97-38 are by him. "A. C. ROSTIC."
527







528
'DOUBLE ACROSTIC.

MY primals and finals name twin brothel
logy.
CROSS-WORDS (of equal length): I. Th
medicine. 2. A city of Russia bombarded
lish and French in 1854. 3. Exerts one's s
painful effort. 4. Last. 5. In the month
preceding the present. 6. An instrument
bones. M.
ILLUSTRATED ZIGZAG.


ALL the words pictured contain the same number of
letters; when rightly guessed and placed one below the
other, in the order numbered, the zigzag (from the upper
left-hand letter to the lower left-hand letter) will spell
the surname of a celebrated author.
CHARADE.

To her husband she said, just to be in the style,
"For my first, now to Europe let's go for a while! "
And my second they acted, when there, o'er and o'er,
Pretending they often had been there before.
Returning, she said," Call me Katharine, now,
'T is more dignified far than my third, you '11 allow."
For my whole, you can choose any object you please,
But take three of one kind, and you '11 guess it with
ease. FRANCES AMORY.
DOUBLE DIAMONDS.

I. ACROSS: I. In connection. 2. A national hero.
3. A Roman. 4. A cupboard intended to contain arti-
cles of value. 5. Stunned. 6. Conducted. 7. In con-
nection.
DOWNWARD: I. In connection. 2. A boy. 3. A


THE RIDDLE-BOX.

conspiracy. 4. A townsman. 5. Fed. 6. A mascu-
line nickname. 7. In connection.
rs of mytho- II. ACROSS : I. In jumbles. 2. A small animal. 3.
Walking sticks. 4. Wading birds. 5. Unimportant.
e science of 6. Three-fourths of a pulpit. 7. In jumbles.
by the Eng- DOWNWARD: I. In jumbles. 2. A cover. 3. Hur-
trength with tried. 4. A marine animal hunted for its oil and flesh.
immediately 5. Portable shelters. 6. To declare. 7. In jumbles.
for scraping III. AcROSS: I. In trembled. 2. Guided. 3. Raged.
R. WHITE. 4. Regarded with reverence or profound respect. 5. A
county in Ireland. 6. A Spanish title. 7. In trembled.
DOWNWARD: I. In trembled. 2. A color. 3. A
basin. 4. A young hare. 5. A county in Ireland. 6.
An African dignitary. 7. In trembled.
M. E. FLOYD.

POETICAL ENIGILA.

FILL each blank with the name of a poet.
"No," said the the meat's not done,
It's only in the pan;
Oh, now it --, and I must run;
No -- at present! off she ran.
It 's only talk, and that is cheap.
What are when people scold?
a-day! No to keep
Her head from freezing in this cold!
E. R. B.

GEOGRAPHICAL FINAL ACROSTIC.

THE names described are not all of the same length.
When rightly guessed, the last letters will spell the name
of a famous river of Europe.
CROSS-WORDS: I. A city of France. 2. A river of
Germany. 3. A city of India. 4. One of the United
States.. 5. A country of Europe.
HERR YCI REVIR."

CONNECTED SQUARES.


4 4





I. UPPER LEFT-HAND SQUARE: I. A fabric used for
garments. 2. A morning reception. 3. Places for bak-
ing. 4. Portable lodges. 5. A grand duchy and state
of the German Empire.
II. UPPER RIGHT-HAND SQUARE: I. A coin men-
tioned in the Merchant of Venice." 2. A Russian
edict. 3. A hut. 4. Apart. 5. Dogma.
III. CENTRAL SQUARE: I. Striking effect. 2. To
reprove. 3. A washable fabric. 4. One fully skilled
in anything. 5. Soldiers' habitations.
IV. LOWER LEFT-HAND SQUARE: I. To entertain
with food and drink. 2. A Western cattle-farm. 3.
Weariness. 4. Penetrating. 5. A pilferer.
V. LOWER RIGHT-HAND SQUARE: I. A tendon. 2.
Brainless. 3. Pertaining to the nose. 4. To decree
by law. 5. Strips of leather around a shoe. F. w. F.


THE DE VINNE PRESS, NEW YORK.













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