• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Front Matter
 The May pole dance
 Frontispiece
 How cousin Marion helped
 Fritz
 A white red squirrel
 The blue-bird
 Master skylark
 General Grant's white mountain...
 A shifting boundary
 The toys talk of the world
 The enchanted wood
 The last three soldiers
 The cooky-nut trees
 From the monkey's point of...
 Casan
 The whistling giant
 The fairy sisters
 The festival of eggs
 The rhyme of triangular Tommy
 Miss Nina Barrow
 The king's high way
 The big booboo and the little...
 Jemima
 The robin
 Two new memory-rhymes
 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/UF00065513/00325
 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: VID00325
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
    The May pole dance
        Page 531
        Page 532
    Frontispiece
        Page 530
    How cousin Marion helped
        Page 533
        Page 534
        Page 535
        Page 536
        Page 537
        Page 538
        Page 539
        Page 540
    Fritz
        Page 541
    A white red squirrel
        Page 542
        Page 543
    The blue-bird
        Page 544
    Master skylark
        Page 545
        Page 546
        Page 547
        Page 548
        Page 549
        Page 550
        Page 551
        Page 552
        Page 553
        Page 554
        Page 555
    General Grant's white mountain ride
        Page 556
        Page 557
        Page 558
        Page 559
    A shifting boundary
        Page 560
        Page 561
        Page 562
    The toys talk of the world
        Page 563
    The enchanted wood
        Page 564
        Page 565
    The last three soldiers
        Page 566
        Page 567
        Page 568
        Page 569
        Page 570
        Page 571
        Page 572
        Page 573
        Page 574
        Page 575
        Page 576
    The cooky-nut trees
        Page 577
    From the monkey's point of view
        Page 577
    Casan
        Page 578
        Page 579
        Page 580
        Page 581
        Page 582
        Page 583
    The whistling giant
        Page 584
    The fairy sisters
        Page 585
    The festival of eggs
        Page 586
        Page 587
        Page 588
        Page 589
    The rhyme of triangular Tommy
        Page 590
        Page 591
        Page 592
    Miss Nina Barrow
        Page 593
        Page 594
        Page 595
        Page 596
        Page 597
        Page 598
        Page 599
        Page 600
        Page 601
        Page 602
    The king's high way
        Page 603
    The big booboo and the little booboo
        Page 604
        Page 605
    Jemima
        Page 606
        Page 607
    The robin
        Page 608
        Page 609
    Two new memory-rhymes
        Page 610
        Page 611
    The letter-box
        Page 612
        Page 613
        Page 614
    The riddle-box
        Page 615
        Page 616
    Back Matter
        Back Matter
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
    Spine
        Spine
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NICHOLAS.


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


VOL. XXIV.
No. 7.


a I e -- "2 P le ,) a c-

BY CORNELIA WALTER MCCLEARY.

IN and out,
In and out,
Weaving ribbons bright;
Round the May-pole children dance-
Such a pretty sight!
There are green and brown and red,
Held by Ben, and Joe, and Ned;
There are yellow, pink, and blue,
Held by Bella, May, and Sue.


In and out,
In and out,
S.! jBraiding ribbons tight;
All the girls go toward the left,
And the boys to right.
Pretty Bella nods her head
When she passes little Ned;
Sue and May smile back again,
/ As they trip by Joe and Ben.

' -' .. .-, .",, "
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ST.


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THE MAY-POLE DANCE.


In and out,
In and out,
Plaiting colors bright;
Boys and girls with one accord
Sing with all their might.
For their hearts are like the Spring,
Young, and fresh, and blossoming-
And their voices, sweet and clear,
Say that May at last is here.

See! the May-pole standing there
Suddenly has grown most fair!
Now it makes a fine display,
Decked in colors bright and gay;
And it stands so straight and tall,
Proudly looking down on all-
On the children, whose young hands
Hold the many-colored strands.

Now begin
Out and in,
Silken web and weft;
Soon of all its loveliness
Little will be left.
Unwind yellow, pink, and blue,
Dancing Bella, May, and Sue;
Untwist green and brown and red,
Laughing Ben and Joe and Ned.

In and out,
In and out,
Loos'ning ribbons bright;
Now the boys go toward the left,
And the girls to right.
As the dancers lightly bound,
All the streamers are unwound,
Till they leave the May-pole bare
'Neath its crown of flowers fair.


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HOW COUSIN MARION HELPED.


BY ALICE BALCH ABBOT.


THEN you will tell Dean and Lucy that I
shall expect them not only to dine and spend
the evening, but as soon as they come from
school? Now, don't shake your head, Cousin
Agnes; it is Friday afternoon, so there will be
no to-morrow's lessons in the way "; and young
Mrs. Maxwell turned from her cousin's door as
if the matter of her guests for dinner was fully
settled. The mother of the guests in question
evidently did not agree with her, for she has-
tened to remonstrate:
Why, Marion, you have been at home only
three days, and your sister arrived but yester-
day. Surely you ought not to trouble your-
self so soon with the children."
"Trouble !" and then young Mrs. Maxwell
laughed in merry protest. I thought you
knew by this time, Cousin Agnes, that I look
upon the twins in any light but that. As for
Sister, she is as anxious to meet them as I am
to have her do so. To tell the truth, she had
not been in the house more than an hour or
two when she inquired when she was to be
presented to those wonderful twin cousins of
whom I was always writing."
Oh, Marion, you must have been drawing
upon your imagination. Even I, their mother,
would never think of Dean and Lucy as more
than an ordinary boy and girl, though their
twinship may have made them rather better
comrades than some brothers and sisters at
least so I have thought till lately."
Mrs. Maxwell looked up quickly.
"Why, you don't mean that they have
quarreled ? "
No, I should hardly call it by that word.
It may be only a fancy, but since school began
it has seemed as if something must have oc-
curred; for several times I have found Lucy
studying alone, and Dean has seemed to have
various plans afoot that cause him to leave for
school before Lucy, and return later. How-


ever, I presume if there is any trouble, you will
soon find it out."
Indeed I will, if it is possible "; and Mrs.
Maxwell bade her cousin good morning and
walked down the street with a serious look on
her usually bright face.
Cousin Marion" was an element which
had been in combination with the lives of the
Eliot twins for about a year and a half. When
Dean had heard of the intended marriage of
his cousin Jack, whom he regarded with the
hero-worship that boyhood of twelve often
offers to manhood of twice that age, he had
been somewhat dismayed. But the new cousin
came and was seen, and conquered; and not
many weeks after his wife's advent Cousin Jack
had declared his nose to be quite out of joint.
Lucy's devotion was rather to be expected, but
Dean had almost felt obliged to apologize for
the rapid acquisition of his regard.
"You see," he'had remarked to his mother,
"she is n't like most of them; she always has
something to show a fellow, so he does n't have
to think up what to talk about; and she 's read
all the books I like, and remembers the parts I
do; and she can play tennis like a shot, and -
my eye! can't she make good doughnuts "
Proud as Mrs. Maxwell was of the friendship
of her young twin cousins, she was even prouder
of their affection for each other. Shortly after
making their acquaintance, she had written in
a letter to her sister, "You know I always used
to say that I thought a twin brother was the
choicest possession a small girl could have;
and Dean and Lucy Eliot seem to prove that
my notion was correct."
And now that same sister had come to visit
her and was to make the acquaintance of her
boy and girl friends. It would certainly be too
bad if a coolness between the brother and sister
should occur at this time.
Consequently it was with a feeling nearly akin


S533






HOW COUSIN MARION HELPED.


to anxiety that Mrs. Maxwell awaited her after-
noon guests. Her sister was lying down, so
when Lucy arrived, a little after four, she found
her hostess alone. In response to her cousin's
question as to Dean's whereabouts, Lucy's an-
swer was a careless, He said he was not ready
when I started, and would come later; and as I
knew he would like it better, I came without
him."
There was an unusual sharpness in the speak-
er's voice that caused Mrs. Maxwell to glance
keenly into the face opposite as she asked:
Is n't that rather a new idea ? "
Lucy bit her lip, then said suddenly, It is a
new idea, Cousin Marion-at least it has been
growing ever since school began. You know
Dean and I have always been pretty even at
school, except that he is better in mathematics
than I, and Latin is a little easier for me, though
last year there were only three months when my
Latin mark was higher than his. This year it
is all different, and I think I know the reason.
Sam Crane has gone away to school. He and
Dean used to try to beat each other, but now
Dean just manages to slip along like the other
two boys in the class; and we don't have any
more nice times studying together, for I won't
do that slipping, sliding way. Then there 's
tennis. You know how hard I practised while
he was away last summer. When he came back
I asked him to play with me just the way he
would if I were a boy. I beat; and I have
never known whether he let me or not. Now,
if it had been Sam, Dean would have played
him again the next day; but he has never asked
me for another game, and he had better not, if
he is going to give me such baby drop-serves!"
The scorn of that last sentence made Lucy's
voice tremble, and she waited a second, then
went on:
"I wonder if I ought to be willing to let
things go on as they are. Perhaps some day I
shall become used to it, and not mind hearing
Dean make a remark like one Tom Jackson
made last week. Kitty overheard him say that
he didn't see what schoolgirls were good at,
except looking pretty and taking up the time
in recitation. Cousin Marion, what do you
think I ought to do about it? "
Mrs. Maxwell looked serious enough to satisfy


even Lucy's notions of the state of affairs, as she
answered:
"I am not quite sure that I had better give
any advice till I have thought the matter over.
Suppose we let it rest for a day or two, and per-
haps some way in which I can help will suggest
itself."
Well, I don't want you to think I 'm a goose,
but I do want to ask you one question. When
you were my age, did you ever think that boys
were-sort of-" Lucy paused in perplexity,
but her cousin came gaily to the rescue.
"A necessary evil? Is that what you wished to
say? Let me see, you are just fourteen. Do you
know that if it had not been for just one thing
I might have had to answer 'yes' to your ques-
tion? Did I ever tell you about the summer we
spent in Oldport ? No? Then suppose I do.
It was the year I was twelve. Our home was
to be remodeled, so the whole household was
transported to Oldport. We children were
highly delighted; for not only were we to live
in a great-aunt's house where our mother had
visited when a little girl, but we were also to be
next door to a large family of cousins."
Just at this point the sound of steps on the
staircase and the closing of a door in the next
room brought the story to a sudden end, and
Mrs. Maxwell rose, saying:
There, I am afraid the story must wait, for
I hear Sister Emily on the stairs, and Kate is
coming with the tea."
Lucy gave a sigh of disappointment, and then
asked quickly:
Cousin Marion, won't you just tell me what
the one thing was ?"
Mrs. Maxwell looked up from her work of
arranging the table for the tea-tray, and had
barely time to answer, with a comic smile of so-
lemnity, the one word, "Cows!" before her sis-
ter entered the room.
Emily, this is the girl-half of Jack's twin
cousins; the boy will appear later."
Following this introduction, there came to
Lucy a half-hour of unalloyed delight. After-
noon tea with Cousin Marion was always a
pleasure; but on the present occasion the
charm seemed doubled, and by the time she
had finished her cup of tea and three maca-
roons Lucy had quite decided that Miss Emily


[MAY,






1897.]


was just what Cousin Marion's sister ought
to be.
At length her hostess, who was seated by
the window, exclaimed: "There comes Dean.
Lucy, will you please ring the dining-room bell
for Kate, and ask her to bring a plate of
doughnuts ?"
When Lucy returned from her errand, her
brother had finished shaking hands with Miss
Lisle, and the two were bending over a new


till I


535


to run away to write two or three notes. Dean,
I know you want to do more than look at the
pictures in that book. Suppose we take it into
the hall with these doughnuts. Sister Emily
and Lucy can amuse each other. By the way,
Lucy, she can tell you about that summer."
What summer? Miss Lisle asked.
"The one we spent in Oldport; and you
are requested to dwell particularly upon the
occasion when my notions of girls' supe-
riority received such a blow. Do you
.-ir,: I. ber? "


ed puzzled for a
n laughed.
I to tell every-
_?,"
I shall leave that
S:ur discretion,"
was Mrs. Max-
well's answer
as she left the
room.
Dean de-
parted with
his book and
doughnuts,
and Lucy


'. turned to her
r, a I entertainer
with an air
.o ,'h. Ms M w .a" of delight.
olding\ it o- I am so
.., glad. I have
OR always want-
ed to know
what kind of
a little girl
our Cousin
-- .-on was," she exclaimed.
"C "-. rather lively kind, as I re-
,-ler; and the time I am to tell
S :,l_,r was when she was at her
liveliest. How much had she told
"'COUSIN MARION, WHAT DO YOU THINK I OUGHT TO DO ABOUT IT?') you? "
Only that you spent the summer
book which the latter had brought down- in a great-aunt's house, and that there were
stairs, some cousins next door. Were they boys or
A moment later, Kate appeared with the girls ?"
doughnuts. Mrs. Maxwell took the plate, and Both. Some were grown up; but there were
holding it out to Dean, said, "Now I am going a boy, Ned, and a girl, Clara, very near our ages.


HOW COUSIN MARION HELPED.


-r- Nls Lisle look
.7 second, the
P f, Am
C T' thin



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HOW COUSIN MARION HELPED.


Besides these, there were two other cousins,
Herbert and Carl, who came to visit us, and
a boy named John, who lived in the house
beyond Ned and Clara; so you see it was a


vx-r
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"HOIST WE DID WITH ALL OUR MIGHT." (SEE PAGE 538.)
question of three girls and four boys. Marion
certainly was what people call a tomboy; but
I remember mother's hunting all over New
York, that spring, to find a certain stout ging-
ham which she had made up into what she
called 'climbing-dresses,' so I think we must
have been expected to have a good time. My
gown was sufficient for any demands I made
upon it, but Marion's had to be patched more
than once.
How the rivalry between the boys and us
began, I am not quite sure; but I think it was


over the Indian question. My uncle had been
in the firearms business, and among my cou-
sins' playthings were four full-sized wooden
models of muskets. These just supplied the
boys with weapons. They decided to be early
settlers, the Indians to be merely imaginary.
"We girls were told that we could be the
settlers' wives and stay in the fort while they
went out to fight. That did not suit; and
Marion announced that we would also be set-
tlers and fight; but the boys declared we
could n't, without guns. Finally we nobly of-
fered to be Indians; but they only laughed and
said we could n't be anything but squaws.
That finished the discussion; we told them we
would n't be old squaws, but real Indian chiefs,
and we would fight them if they dared come
near our camp, which would be in the choke-
berry bushes at the top of one of the slopes in
the fields back of the barn. The question of
our weapons was settled by Clara's proposing
bean-poles.
"I remember how exciting it was, as we crept
along the further side of the stone wall till we
were at the summit of the slope at the foot of
which the four boys were holding a council, and
then with a wild yell leaped over the wall and
charged down upon them.
They lifted their gun-stocks, and one of them
shouted, 'Bang! There, Marion, you 're dead!'
But Marion called back, 'I'm not, either'; and
charged on, her bean-pole at full tilt, and Clara
and I yelling at her heels. You're not playing
fair,' Ned called out; but somehow the advan-
cing poles were too much for them, and they
turned and ran. When Clara had proposed the
bean-poles she had said,' Of course we will only
wave them in the air'; but Marion had calmly
remarked, 'I wonder how much a little poke
with one would hurt'; so I do not know, now,
what would have happened had those boys stood
firm.
"Then there was the 'shebang.' Those cou-
sins of ours were the most inventive of boys and
girls. In the case of the shebang their genius
had been used in constructing and naming a.
most peculiar four-wheeled vehicle, in which
they coasted down the slopes in the fields. It
was steered by a rope tied to the axle of the
front wheels. Before our family had arrived,


[MAY,






HOW COUSIN MARION HELPED.


the shebang had been successfully taken down
every slope but the steepest. Its name sug-
gested its unusual fashion of reaching the foot
of the hill. I tried it but once, on the mildest
grade; but its wriggling career proved too much
for my nerves, and I landed in an ignominious
heap half-way down the slope. When Clara
had discovered Marion's spirit of daring, one
of the first things she asked was if she would
take the shebang down Steep Hill, as they called
this one; and'take
it do ,.\, M :,' ria.:.,
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shall t.:,r.,-t the c
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MARION WINS THE RACE. (SEE NEXT PAGE.)


wobbling down the hill, while the boys stood
by and grinned. Strange to say, the trip was
accomplished in safety, and with a shout of tri-
umph Marion climbed out half-way up the next
slope."
Miss Lisle paused, but Lucy exclaimed with
a long breath of delighted interest:
"Oh, please go on! Reminiscences are so
interesting!"
"Let me see: what else came before the
Bushy Pond
episode? Oh,
yes! there
was the tree
in the fur-
ther mea-
S dow, which
had a high
limb from
which only
John had
ever dared
to drop to
the ground;
but Marion
eclipsed his
performance
by hanging
with one arm
while Clara
counted fifty
before she
Slet go of the
limb. After
a while the
boys stopped
planning to
play with us,
which was not
-,range, as we did
i., on rather pro-
~. k.-!. airs, and some-
Ilme.5 I ami afraid we were
almost mean. At length they
formed a society, and tried in
every way to prevent our finding
out the time and place of their meet-
ings. However, one morning Clara. was
too quick for them, and came racing over to
tell us she had made the discovery that the






HOW COUSIN MARION HELPED.


famous society was holding its meeting in an
empty room of the back barn.
Five minutes after she had given the infor-
mation we were stealing cautiously toward the
barn. Clara had selected for our vantage-
ground a position under a window that opened
on what had once been the cow-yard. Our ob-
ject was to listen until we heard something with
which to tantalize the boys later on, and then to
go away. With our skirts held closely about us,
we succeeded in noiselessly climbing the rickety
fence, and gained our place under the window,
which was partly opened.
"John was addressing the meeting on some
subject of a historical nature, for we heard him
say something about when Gates made Bur-
goyne surrender, and saved New York from be-
ing invaded.' As we listened I saw Marion's
lip curl. If there was one subject upon which
she found it hard to keep silence, it was United
States history; for she loved it dearly, and had
read more in that line than most boys and girls
of her age. In fact, one of the boys' grievances
had been her beating them all to pieces' in a
game where three minutes had been given for
writing names and events in that history, begin-
ning with each letter of the alphabet in turn. I
knew that General Schuyler was one of Marion's
prime favorites, and that any mention of Bur-
goyne's surrender without bringing in his name
would make her wildly indignant; but, to my
surprise, she suffered John to proceed .until he
shouted out something about when George
Washington signed the Declaration of Inde-
pendence.' Then she could stand it no longer,
and turning to Clara and me, she whispered:
' Do you think you could hoist me up so I can
reach the sill?' Hoist we did with all our
might. With a mighty scratching and scrab-
bling, she went up, and the meeting was startled
by her breathless, George Washington never
signed the Declaration; he was too busy taking
care of the army in New York; and if you are
going to talk about Burgoyne's getting beaten,
I think you had better say something about
General Schuyler-' Just there the hoisting-
power gave out, and Marion descended with a
thump as one of the boys indignantly slammed
down the window.
"All this was provoking enough; but when


it came to the question of the fastest runner,
that was what tried the boys' souls. Over and
over again they would propose a race from the
barn to the house; but as sure as the race was
finished, Marion would be first at the goal. To
beat four boys, three of whom were older than
herself, was something of which I think she had
a right to be proud. She used to confide to me
that John's steps seemed to come nearer every
time they raced; but she managed to hold her
own even to the last trial that took place the
morning we left for home."
Miss Emily paused again, but Lucy's interest
seemed unabated, so she went on:
I really can think of nothing else but the
Bushy Pond afternoon, and I must hurry with
that, or Sister Marion will be back from her
letters. One morning we found the boys whit-
tling pine shingles. Marion and I knew better
than to ask for what they were intended; but
as soon as Clara appeared she took in the sit-
uation. They were making boats to sail on
Bushy Pond, for she had heard her eldest bro-
ther say he was going there to sketch that after-
noon, and her mother never let the younger
ones go to the pond without him. She pro-
posed that we go too; and though she did not
know the way, the boys could not get off with-
out our seeing them. Cousin Clara was a fa-
mous whittler, so there was no doubt that our
boats would be quite equal to any of the boys'
workmanship. They were not very elaborate:
flat shingles whittled to a point at one end,
with a single mast at the base of the point.
The sails were half-sheets of commercial note-
paper, with two slits through which the mast
was slipped. Clara insisted on each of us being
provided with a number of these sails. After
dinner we prepared to keep a sharp watch.
Clara was up by the barn, Marion at the back
of the house, and I on the road in front. How-
ever, Fate seemed against us; for just as the
boys showed themselves in the barn door, a
girl caller for Clara and Clara's cousins' ap-
peared. There was nothing to be done but to
go to the house. As we reached the porch the
boys and their boats disappeared behind the
barn.
"I have always felt that our cordiality to
that girl caller was not quite what it should


538


[MAY,






HOW COUSIN MARION HELPED.


have been; for after a very short stay she an-
nounced that she had promised to be at home
early. I hope she did not see any connection
between her remark and my asking if she knew
the way to Bushy Pond. Imagine our delight
when she told us that it was near to the road
on which she lived, and that she would show
us the way if we would walk along with her!
We accepted the invitation, and if I live to be
one hundred I shall never forget those boys'
faces when we appeared; but they were having
too fine a time to stay long provoked. They
even volunteered to cut for us the long
branches that were used to poke our boats
and to hook them in when they floated too
far from shore. The object of each was to
conduct his or her boat entirely around the
pond without wetting the sail. It was no easy
task, for a too vigorous poke from the guiding
branch was sure to overturn the boat, and that
meant a return to the starting-point and a fresh
sail. We were getting along finely. My boat
had been around twice, Clara and Marion had
each finished their first successful voyage, when
we were all suddenly startled by a prolonged
'Moo-o-o!' We looked up, and saw several
cows gazing down in surprise on their usually
quiet drinking-place.
I had always imagined that Marion had no
especial. liking for cows, but neither my uncle's
family nor ours kept any, and as we children
seldom went out of the fields belonging to the
two places, I had never seen my sister brought
face to face with them. When I turned to
look at her, I found she had gone over by Cou-
sin Fred. Carl called out that her boat was
floating out of reach, then turned to see why
she did not answer. There was no mistaking
the expression of Marion's face, and he shouted,
' Marion 's 'fraid of the cows 'Fore I 'd be
scared at a mooly '
That was almost more than Marion could
stand, and she started back toward the pond;
but the sight of three more pairs of horns sent
her back to Cousin Fred, where she waited till
one of the creatures, having-finished drinking,
turned in her direction. I saw her say some-
thing to Cousin Fred; but he only kept on
sketching, and called out for one of the boys to
drive the cow away, as Marion wanted to- climb


up in the willow-tree. The boys looked amazed,
and Ned asked,' What does she want to roost
there for ? but John, after one glance at Ma-
rion's white cheeks, dashed forward, held out
his hand to help Marion down the bank, then
walked beside her to the willow-tree, and be-
fore we could say Jack Robinson her blue
sailor hat stuck out from the topmost branches.
At length the cows departed, and we did
likewise. The boys teased Marion unmerci-
fully all the way home, but she stood it no-
bly. That night, when we had gone up to
our room, she confided to me that she de-
served every bit of the teasing, and that she
did n't know what she would have done if she
and Clara and I had been at the pond alone.
Then she suddenly asked me if it would be
wrong if she should let John win the next race.
I was too surprised to answer, so with the
proudest look I had ever seen she proceeded
to tell me that when John left us at his gate,
that afternoon, he had told her that he did n't
see why she need be so scared, that he guessed
she could run faster than any cow she would
ever meet. Before I had time to say a word
she finished my surprise by declaring that she
would rather one boy had said that about her
running than to have it said by Clara and me
and all the girls she had ever known, put to-
gether. However, we agreed that John was
hardly the sort of boy to put up with a give-
away victory, so the result was, as I told you,
that Marion held her own in the running line
to the end of our visit."
Well, those fellows must have had a queer
set of legs! was the exclamation from the door-
way as Miss Lisle finished her story. There
stood Dean, with the book in his hand, show-
ing suspiciously few pages turned over.
I always knew," he proceeded, "that Cou-
sin Marion must have been a fine kind of a
youngster; but I would n't give much for a fel-
low of fourteen who could n't beat a girl of
twelve."
What's up for discussion now ? asked a
deep, jolly voice, and Cousin Jack appeared
at the open porch door and came forward to
where Dean was standing.
"Nothing, sir. Miss Emily was telling about
Cousin Marion's beating some boys running


1897.3







when she was a little girl, and I said I would n't which I believe you have always admired.
give much for those boys' legs." What are you going to do about it? "
Oh, you would n't, would n't you ? and Dean looked dumfounded, and Lucy gave a
Cousin Jack gave a comical, questioning glance sudden bounce in her seat, exclaiming, Miss
Emily Then that John in the story
w.i.a really our Cousin Jack'!"
--iss. I_ sle smiled assent, but Dean
;a the next to speak:
S' All I can say, sir, is that
6 you must have gone into
the running business pret-
ty lively since, if you
could be beaten by a
girl at fourteen."
So I did;' but let
me tell you that it was
no joke even to keep
at that same girl's heels.
It was owing to that ex-
perience that I made
up my mind to be a
good runner at any
cost. I have often told
Cousin Marion that all
S the prizes I ever re-
ceived were really due
to her."
"Not all, Cousin
Jack," Lucy hastened
.. to say; because in a
book of yours that Cou-
sin Marion lent me the
other day, was written that
it was a prize for the best ex-
.- invitation in United States his-
_:ti, ." Mr. Maxwell shook his head
----_i, h a I ,_,ck-melancholy air.
: .- I the bottom of that one, too,
S LuC,. I,:r Ihr history was as bad--or
iather, as good -as her running; and my old
"'LUCE, ARE YOU AFRAID OF COWS? ASKED DEAN SUDDENLY." master may be wondering yet what started
me up into such a shining historical light that
at Miss Lisle, who answered by a merry shake winter after the Lisles were in Oldport. He
of her head. Whereupon Mr. Maxwell taking little knew that my chief motive was that I
Dean by the shoulders, swung him round so would not be beaten by--that clever little
that he faced a cabinet on the top shelf of bundle of petticoats! finished Cousin Jack as
which were displayed various cups and medals. his wife came into the room.
Then he said impressively: All that evening Dean was unusually silent.
"Well, one of those despised pairs of legs Somehow he felt rather turned upside down in
belonged to me and won those cups and medals some of his notions. The silence lasted until


HOW COUSIN MARION HELPED.


[MAY,


540






HOW COUSIN MARION HELPED.


the twins were half-way home, when he asked
suddenly:
"Luce, are you afraid of cows ? "
"I should rather say I was!" his sister re-
plied. Did n't you know that was the reason I
would not go to Uncle Thomas's last summer? "
Hm-m," was her brother's only comment.
There was another silence, lasting until they
reached the corner of their own street; then
Dean spoke again:
Say, have you done your' Casar' for Mon-
day? "
Yes; and there was a tone of suppressed
wonder in the monosyllable.
"What do you make of the construction of
'veteris contumelie ? "
"I thought it was genitive after 'oblivisci,'
meaning 'to forget the old injury.'"
Hm-m; guess you 're right. Tried your
Algebra ?"
"Tried it ? Yes; but I can't manage those
problems. Don't you think they are hard ?"


"They 're twisty, till you get the hang of
them. I did four while I was waiting for Tom."
Dean Eliot! Then you did them in less
than twenty minutes, and I have worked three
quarters of an hour already "
"There's only one puzzling point. Wait
till to-morrow afternoon, and I guess I can fix
things so you will see through them. I was n't
going to do them all, but perhaps I might as
well finish them up."
Thank you," was all Lucy said, but it was
spoken in her heartiest tone.
Surprise the second came several days later,
in a proposal by Dean to play a set of tennis.
The reason was stated thus:
Tom Gaines has taught me a new serve';
he says a girl can't take it. I said you could,
and I want to see how you will manage it."
The set was played, each game was deuce,"
and the final score was seven to five in Dean's
favor. Which of the twins, do you suppose,
enjoyed that score the more?


"FRITZ."


BY REBECCA PALFREY UTTER.


HAs anybody seen
my Fritz" ?
You may not
think him
pretty,
But he 's the dog
that I love
best
In country or
in city.
,His hair 's a
sort of grizzly
gray,
And not so very curly;
But he can run like everything,
And bark both late and early.

Sometimes he minds me very well;
And sometimes when I call,


He only sits and wags his tail
And does not stir at all.
But the reason why he acts that way
Is very plain to see:
Fritz does n't know that he 's my dog-
He thinks that he owns me.

So, though he has a heap of sense,
'T would be just like him, now,
To think that I 'm the one that 's lost,
And with a great bow-wow
To go off hunting
for his boy
Through alley,
lane, and street,
While I am asking
for my dog
Of every one I
meet.


54I








































THE MOUSE TO THE SLEEPING ANGORA CAT: "PEEK-A-BOO!"



A WHITE RED SQUIRREL.


BY EMILY G. HUNT, M. D.


SOME girl cousins of mine living in New Jer-
sey have an odd pet. It is a white red squirrel.
You have all seen red squirrels-" chickarees"
they call them, from the sounds of their chat-
tering and scolding, as they drop nutshells on
your head, or run down a tree-trunk by fits and
starts, giving a little ediiick with each for-
ward rush, while they watch you sharply.
Our little pet is like one of these in every
way, except that he is so snowy white that the
cleanest table-cloth looks dingy compared to him.
He was born in a cranberry-bog. Some
men cutting brush there saw two strange little
animals, one white, the other cream-colored.


They caught this white one by throwing a coat
over him, but the creamy squirrel ran away.
When the captive was brought home all
admired him greatly, for he was, as you may
imagine, a very beautiful little creature, with his
long bushy tail and bright woodland tricks.
But there is one really strange thing about
him: his eyes are not red or pink, as are those
of most white animals, but they are as black as
any squirrel's could be. So my girl cousins
call him Beads."
When an animal belonging to a species com-
monly dark in color is born white instead, it is
called an albino." You have all seen albino






A WHITE RED SQUIRREL.


rabbits and rats and mice. Their eyes are pink.
So that Beads is really a most uncommon fel-
low, a snowy squirrel with jet-black eyes.
Albino or not, he is at any rate a most win-
ning little pet, and there is no end to his pretty
ways. As a cat and a kitten live with the same
family, he has to be kept in a squirrel-cage;
but he is let out a long time each day. Then
Beads is quiite happy. He climbs up the back
of the chair and nibbles the hair of the person
seated in it, gnaws the flowers in the window-
sill, rushes up the stems of the callas, and
scratches in the earth until it flies on all sides.
He will rub his head and face and all his body
in the earth, until his clean white dress is a
sight to behold. After that he hops to the floor,
and rubs his face carefully upon the carpet.
He loves to retire to a corner or under a
piece of furniture for his toilet, going in gray
and coming out white. If you peep and watch
him, it is great fun, for
he scrubs and combs
himself with his paws
in the neatest way,
washes his face just as
a cat does, and then
takes his big tail in his
paws and uses it for
a towel! One often
hears people wonder
why squirrels have such
big tails. All know that
they are useful as bal-
ancing-poles and blan-
kets, and are charming
as ornaments, but not
many are in Beads's
secret of their useful-
ness as towels.
Our pet was brought
in from the woods and
fields in winter, and
taken into a warm
room. Soon his kind
mother Nature began
to take off his cold-
weather clothes by making him shed his fur
in patches. But when he was hung in his
cage in a room without a fire, the fur came
on again as thick as ever.


Since he could no longer run up trees and
keep his claws worn down, they grew so long
as to catch in the carpet. His friends were
afraid he might break his legs, so they held him
and very carefully cut his nails.
Beads has his own notions about his food.
He makes but one meal a day, eating very
heartily of corn, taking the sweet kernels only,
and throwing the rest away. He always keeps
a nut or two soaking in his water-cup to soften
and to save his teeth. He hides most of his
store in his bed, always eating the nuts that
have been in the water. Others he loves to
hide all over the room, whence they come
rolling down on one at unexpected moments.
He was presented with a big box of woods
earth to dig in. In this he loves to hide a nut.
Then he will begin his usual scratching, grad-
ually clearing all away but just a column
where his treasure is, as he supposes, hidden.


;~~ dI--E,2;-


" BEADS.


One of his friends tried her new camera on
Beads, and the picture shows you how he
looks sitting on a wicker-chair back, nibbling
the crisp edge of a beloved salt-cracker.









THE BLUE-BIRD.

By A. T. SCHUMAN.


A GLINT of blue flits neathh the sky,
Amid the merry May-time;
A living gem, light-winged and shy,
Enjoying its brief play-time.

Now perched upon an alder-spray
That bends beneath its lightness,
It gives unto the dewy day
A soft and sudden brightness.


And from its little throbbing throat
Comes "Twitter, twitter, twitter!"
A sweet, a swift, a slender note,
But never one that 's bitter.

A cheery voice that tells of Spring,
At rosy dawn and after;
The busy Blue-bird carolling
A song of love and laughter.


A.J


A


(i~Al/


* MAN WANTS BUT LITTLE HERE BELOW."
544











MASTER SKYLARK.


BY JOHN BENNETT.


[Begun inthe November number.]

CHAPTER XX.

DISAPPOINTMENT.

NICK landed upon a pile of soft earth. It
broke away under his feet- and threw him for-
ward upon his hands and knees. He got up, a
little shaken but unhurt, and stood close to the
wall, looking all about quickly. A party of
gaily dressed gallants were haggling with the
horse-boys at the sheds; but they did not even
look at him. A passing carter stared up at the
window, measuring the distance with his eye,
whistled incredulously, and trudged on.
Nick listened a moment, but heard only the
clamor of voices inside, and the zoon, zoon,
zoon of the viol. He was trembling all over,
and his heart was beating like a trip-hammer.
He wanted to run, but was fearful of exciting
suspicion. Heading straight for the river, he
walked as fast as he could through the gardens
and the trees, brushing the dirt from his hose
as he went.
There was a wherry just pushing out from
Old Marigold stairs with a single passenger, a
gardener with a basket of truck.
"Holloa !" cried Nick, hurrying down;
will ye take me across ? "
"For thrippence," said the boatman, hauling
the wherry alongside again with his hook.
Thrippence? Nick stopped, dismayed. Mas-
ter Carew had his gold rose-noble, and he had
not thought of the fare. They would soon find
that he was gone.
Oh, I must be across, sir," he cried. Can
ye na take me free ? I be little and not heavy;
and I will help the gentleman with his basket."
The boatman's only reply was to drop his
hook and push off with the oar.
But the gardener, touched by the boy's piti-
ful expression, to say nothing of being tickled
VOL. XXIV.-69. 5


by Nick's calling him gentleman, spoke up:
"Here, jack-sculler," said he; I '11 toss up wi'
thee for it." He pulled a groat from his pocket
and began spinning it in the air. Come,
thou lookest a gamesome fellow cross he
goes, pile he stays; best two in three flips -
what sayst ? "
"Done !" said the waterman. "Pop her
up!"
Up went the groat.
Nick held his breath.
"Pile it is," said the gardener. One for thee
- and up she goes again The groat twirled
in the air and came down clink upon the
thwart.
"Aha !1" cried the boatman, 't is mine, or
I 'm a horse "
Nay, jack-sculler," laughed the gardener;
cross it is Ka me, ka thee, my pretty groat
-I never lose with this groat."
Oh, sir, do be -brisk !" begged Nick, fear-
ing every instant to see the master-player and
the bandy-legged man come running down the
bank.
"More haste, worse speed," said the gar-
dener; "only evil weeds grow fast!" and he
rubbed the groat on his jerkin. Now, jack-
sculler, hold thy breath; for up she goes
again!"
A man came running over the rise. Nick
gave a little frightened cry. It was only a
huckster's knave with a roll of fresh butter.
The groat came down with a splash in the bot-
tom of the wherry. The boatman picked it up
out of the water and wiped it with his sleeve.
Here, boy, get aboard," said he, shoving off;
and be lively about it! "
The huckster's knave came running down the
landing. He pushed Nick aside, and scram-
bled into the wherry, puffing for breath. The
boat fell off into the current. Nick, making a
plunge for it into the water, just managed to






MASTER SKYLARK.


catch the gunwale and get aboard, wet to the
knees. But he did not care for that; for al-
though there were people going up Paris
Garden lane, and a crowd about the entrance
of the Rose, he could not see Master Carew
or the bandy-legged man anywhere. So he
breathed a little freer, yet kept his eyes fast
upon the play-house until the wherry bumped
against Blackfriars stairs.
Picking up the basket of truck, he sprang
ashore, and, dropping it upon the landing, took


a wicket-gate that was standing half ajar, and
went through it into the old cloisters.
Everything there was still. He was glad -of
that, for the noise and the rush of the crowd
outside confused him.
The place had once been a well kept gar-
den-plot; but now was become a mere stack of
odds and ends of boards, and beams, shavings,
mortar, and broken brick. A long-legged fel-
low with a green patch over one eye was build-
ing a pair of stairs to a door beside which a
sign read: Playeres Here: None Elles."
Nick doffed his cap. Good-day," said
he ; "ir Master Will Shakspere in ?"
TlIe man put down his saw and sat
back' upon one of the trestles, staring stu-
id I: "Didst za-ay zummat ? "
SI asked if Master Will Shakspere
was in ? "
The fellow scratched his head
with a bit of shaving. Noa,
Muster Wull Zhacksper
beant in."
Nick's heart stopped
with a thump. "Where
is he--do ye know?"
A 's gone awa-ay,"
drawled the workman
vaguely.
"Away? Whith-
er?


1_ ,"A 's gone to
Ztratvoard to-own,
.';- !-. whur 's woife do
li-ive went a-yes-
terday."
Nick sat blindly
down upon the other

." 'i u put his cap on again:
he had quite forgot-
ten it.
Master Will Shak-
"'ZTOP UN, ZTOP UN, DO NOW!' SAID THE WORKMAN." (SEE NEXT PAGE.)
spere gone to Strat-
to his heels up the bank, without stopping to ford-and only the day before !
thank either gardener or boatman.
The gray walls of the old friary were just Too late--just one little day too late! It
ahead, scarcely a stone's throw from the river, seemed like cruel mockery. Why, he might be
With heart beating high, he ran along the close, almost home! The thought was more than he
looking eagerly for the entrance. He came to could bear: who could be brave in the face


tMAY,






MASTER SKYLARK.


of such a blow? The bitter tears ran down
his face again.
"Here, here, odzookens, lad!" grinned the
workman stolidly, "thou 'It vetch t' river up
if weeps zo ha-ard. Ztop un, ztop un; do
now."
Nick sat staring at the ground. A beetle
was trying to crawl over a shaving. It was a
curly shaving, and as fast as the beetle crept up
to the top the shaving rolled over, and dropped
the beetle upon its back in the dust; but it
only got up and tried again. Nick looked up.
"Is is Master Richard Burbage here, then?"
Perhaps Burbage,,who had been a Stratford
man, would help him.
Noa," drawled the carpenter; Muster
Bubbage beant here; don't want un, nuther
-nuvver do moind a's owen business-al-
ways jawin' volks. A beant here, an' don't
want un, nuther."
Nick's heart went down. "And where is
he? "
S-Who? Muster Bubbage? Whoy, a be-
eth out to Zhoreditch, a-playin' at t' theater."
And where may Shoreditch be ? "
"Whur be Zhoreditch?" gaped the work-
man, vacantly. "Whoy-whoy, zummers over
there a bit yon, zure"; and he waved his
hand about in a way that pointed to nowhere
at all.
"When will he be back ?" asked Nick, des-
perately.
"Be ba-ack ? drawled the workman, slowly
taking up his saw again; "back whur?-here ?
Whoy, a wun't pla-ay here no mo-ore avore
next Martlemas."
Martinmas? That was almost mid-Novem-
ber. It was now but middle May.
Nick got up and went out at the wicket-gate.
He was beginning to feel sick and a little faint.
The rush in the street made him dizzy, and the
sullen roar that came down on the wind from
the town, mingled with the tramping of feet, the
splash of oars, the bumping of boats along
the wharves, and the shouts and cries of a
thousand voices, stupefied him.
He was standing there motionless in the nar-
row way, as if dazed by a heavy fall, when
Gaston Carew came running up from the river-
front, with the bandy-legged man at his heels.


CHAPTER XXI.
WITH THE CATHEDRAL BOYS.
AN old gray rat came out of its hole, ran
swiftly across the floor, and, sitting up, crouched
there, peering at Nick. He thought its bare,
scaly tail was not a pleasant thing to see; yet
he looked at it, with his elbows on his knees,
and his chin in his hands.
He had been locked in for two days now.
They had put in plenty of food, and he had
eaten it all; for if he starved to death he would
certainly never get home.
It was quite warm, and the boards had been
taken from the window, so that there was plenty
of light. The window faced the north, and in
the night, wakened by some outcry in the street
below, Nick had leaned his log-pillow against
the wainscot, and climbing- up, looked out into
the sky. It was clear, for a wonder, and the
stars were very bright. The moon, like a smoky
golden platter, rose behind the eastern towers
of the town, and in the north hung the Great
Wain pointing at the polar star.
Somewhere underneath those stars was Strat-
ford. The throstles would be singing in the
orchard there now, when the sun was low and
the cool wind came up from the river with a
little whispering in the lane. The purple-gray
doves, too, would be cooing softly in the elms
over the cottage gable. In fancy he heard the
whistle of their wings as they flew. But all the
sound that came in over the roofs of London
town was a hollow murmur as from a kennel of
surly hounds.
"Nick oh, Nick! "
Cicely Carew was calling at the door. The
rat scurried off to its hole in the wall.
What there, Nick! Art thou within ?"
Cicely called again; but Nick made no reply.
Nick, dear Nick, art crying? "
No," said he; I 'm not."
There was a short silence.
Nick, I say, wilt thou be good if I open
the door? "
No."
Then I will open it anyway; thou durst n't
be bad to me! "
The bolts thumped, and then the heavy
door swung slowly back.


547






MASTER SKYLARK.


"Why, where art thou? "
He was sitting in the corner behind the door.
"Here," said he.
She came in, but he did not look up.
Nick," she asked earnestly, why wilt thou
be so bad, and try to run away from my fa-
ther ? "
I hate thy father said he, and brought his
fist down upon his knee.
"Hatehim? Oh, Nick! Why?"


"'OH, NICK, THOU ART MOST BEAUTIFUL TO SEE

If thou be asking whys," said Nick, bit-
terly, "why did he steal me away from my
mother ?"
Oh, surely, Nick, that cannot be true-no,
no, it cannot be true. Thou hast forgotten,
or thou hast slept too hard and had bad dreams.
My father would not steal a pin. It was a
nightmare. Doth thine head hurt thee ?" She-
came over and stroked his forehead with her


cool hand. She was a graceful child, and gen-
tle in all her ways. "I am sorry thou dost not
feel well, Nick. But my father will come pres-
ently, and he will heal thee soon. Don't cry
any more."
I 'm not crying," said Nick stoutly, though
as he spoke a tear ran down his cheek, and fell
upon his hand.
Then it is the roof leaks," she said, looking
up as if she had not seen his tear-blinded eyes.
But, cheer up, Nick,
and be a good boy -
wilt thou not? 'T is
dcdinner-time, and thy
new clothes have
come; and thou art
to come down now
i and try them on."
When Nick came
out of the tiring-room
p and found the mas-
S ter-player come, he
knew not what to
say or do. Oh,
brave, brave, brave!"
cried Cicely, and
danced around him,
clapping her hands.
"Why, it is a very
prince a king! Oh,
Nick, thou art most
beautiful to see!"
And Master Ca-
rew's own eyes
sparkled; for truly it
was a pleasant sight
to see a fair young
lad like Nick in such
attire.
There was a fine
! CRIED CICELY.
white shirt of Holland
linen, and long hose of grayish-blue, with
puffed and slashed trunks of velvet so blue as
to be almost black. The sleeveless jerkin was
of the same dark color, trellised with roses em-
broidered in silk, and loose from breast to
broad lace collar so that the waistcoat of dull
gold silk beneath it might show. A cloak of
damask with a silver clasp, a buff-leather belt
with a chubby purse hung to it by a chain, tan-


[MAY,





1897.] MASTER

colored slippers, and a jaunty velvet cap with a
short white plume, completed the array. Every-
thing, too, had been laid down with perfume,
so that from head to foot he smelt as sweet and
clean as a drift of rose-mallows.
My soul! cried Carew, stepping back and
snapping his fingers with delight. "Thou art
the bravest skylark that ever broke a shell!
Fine feathers fine bird my soul, how ye
do set each other off! He took Nick by the
shoulders, twirled him around, and standing off
again, stared at him like a man who has found
two pound sterling in a cast-off coat.
"I can na pay for them, sir," said Nick
slowly.
There 's nought to pay it is a gift."
Nick hung his head, much troubled. What
could he say; what could he think? This
man had stolen him from home,-ay, made
him tremble for his very life a dozen times,-
and with his whole, heart he knew he hated him
- yet here, a gift!
"Yes, Nick, it is a gift and all because I
love thee, lad."
"Love me ?"
"Why, surely! Who could see thee without
liking, or hear thy voice and not love thee?
Love thee, Nick? Why, on my word and
honour, lad, I love thee with all my heart."
Thou hast chosen strange ways to show it,
Master Carew," said Nick, and looked straight
up into the master-player's eyes.
Carew turned upon his heel and ordered the
dinner.
It was a good dinner: fat roast capon stuffed
with spiced carrots; asparagus, biscuit, barley-
cakes, and honey; and to end with, a flaky pie,
and Spanish cordial sprinkled with burnt sugar.
With such fare and a keen appetite, a marvel-
ous brand-new suit of clothes, and Cicely chat-
tering gaily by his'side, Nick could not be
sulky or doleful long. He was soon laughing;
and Carew's spirits seemed to rise with the
boy's.
"Here, here!" he cried, as Nick was served
the third time to the pie; "art hollow to thy
very toes? Why, thou 'It eat us out of house
and home--hey, Cicely ? Marry come up, I
think I 'd best take Ned Alleyn's five shillings
for thine hire, after all! What! Five shillings?


r


SKYLARK. 549
Set me in earth and bowl me to death with
boiled turnips!- do they think to play bob-
fool with me? Five shillings! A fico for
their five shillings and this for them!" and
he squeezed the end of his thumb between his
fingers. Cicely, what dost think ? Phil
Henslowe had the face to match Jem Bristow
with our Nick "
"Why, daddy, Jem hath a face like a
halibut!"
"And a voice like a husky crow. Why,
Nick's mere shadow on the stage is worth a
ton of Jemmy Bristows. 'T was casting pearls
before swine, Nick, to offer thee to Henslowe
and Alleyn; but we 've found a better trough
than theirs-hey, Cicely Goldenheart, have
n't we ? Thou art to be one of Paul's boys."
"Paul who? "
Carew lay back in his chair and laughed.
"Paul who? Why, Saint Paul, Nick,- 't is
Paul's Cathedral boys I mean. Marry, what
dost say to that? "
"I 'd like another barley-cake."
"You 'd what?" cried the master-player,
letting the front legs of his chair come down on
the floor with a thump.
"I 'd like another barley-cake," said Nick
quietly, helping himself to the honey.
"Upon my word and on the remnant of
mine honour! ejacllated Carew. Tell a
man his fortune 's made, and he calls for bar-
ley-cakes! Why, thou'dst say 'Pooh!' to a
cannon-ball! My faith, boy, dost understand
what this doth mean ? "
"Ay," said Nick; that I be hungry."
"But, Nick, upon my soul, thou art to sing
with the Children of Paul's; to play with the
Cathedral company; to be a bright particular
star in the sweetest galaxy that ever shone in
English sky! Dost take me yet ?"
"Ay," said Nick, and sopped the honey
with his cake.
Carew played with his glass uneasily, and
tapped his heel upon the floor. "And is that
all thou hast to say hast turned oyster?
There 's no R in May nobody will eat thee!
Come, don't make a mouth as though the
honey of the world were all turned gall upon
thy tongue. 'T is the flood-tide of thy for-
tune, boy! Thou art to sing before the school






MASTER SKYLARK.


to-morrow, so that Master Nathaniel Gyles
may take thy range and worth. Now, truly,
thou wilt do thy very best ? "
The bandy-legged man had brought water
in a ewer, and poured some in a basin for Nick
to wash his hands. There was a green ribbon
in his ear, and the towel hung across his arm.
Nick wiped his hands in silence.
Come," said Master Carew, with an ugly
sharpness in his voice, "thou 'It sing thy very
best ? "
"There 's nothing else to do," replied Nick
doggedly.
CHAPTER XXII.
THE SKYLARK'S SONG.
MASTER NATHANIEL GYLES, Precentor of
St. Paul's, had pipe-stem legs, and a face like
an old parchment put in a box to keep. His
sandy hair was thin and straggling, and his
fine cloth hose- wrinkled around his shrunken
shanks; but his eye was sharp, and he wore
about his neck a broad gold chain that marked
him as no common man.
For Master Nathaniel Gyles was head of the
Cathedral schools of acting and of music, and
he stood upon his dignity.
My duty is laid down," said he, in most
specific terms, sir,- lex cathedralis,- that is to
say, by the laws of the cathedral; and has
been, sir, since the reign of Richard the Third.
Primus Magister Scholarum, Custos Morum,
Quartus Custos Rotulorum,- so the title stands,
sir; and I know my place."
He pushed Nick into the anteroom, and
turned to Carew with an irritated air.
I likewise know, sir, what is what. In
plain words, Master Gaston Carew, ye have
grossly misrepresented this boy to me, to the
waste of much good time. Why, sir, he does
not dance a step, and cannot act at all."
"Soft, Master Gyles -be not so fast!" said
Carew haughtily, drawing himself up, with his
hand on his poniard; dost mean to tell me
that I have lied to thee? Marry, sir, thy
tongue will run thee into a blind alley I told
thee that the boy could sing, but not that he
could act or dance."
"Pouf, sir,- words! I know my place: one
peg below the dean, sir, nothing less: 'Magis-


.ter, et cetera'-'t is so set down. And I tell
thee, sir, he has no training, not a bit; can't
tell a pricksong from a bottle of hay; does n't
know a canon from a crocodile, or a fugue
from a hole in the ground!"
"Oh, fol-de-riddle de fql-de-rol! What has
that to do with it ? I tell thee, sir, the boy can
sing."
"And, sir, I say I know my place. Music
does not grow like weeds."
And fa-la-las don't make a voice."
"What! How? Wilt thou teach me? ','
The master's voice rose angrily. "Teach me,
who learned descant and counterpoint in the
Gallo-Belgic schools, sir; the best in all the
world! Thou, who knowest not a staccato from
a stick of liquorice "
Carew shrugged his shoulders impatiently.
"Come, Master Gyles, this is fool play. I told
thee that the boy could sing, and thou hast not
yet heard him try. Thou knowest right well I
am no such simple gull as to mistake a jay for
a nightingale; and I tell thee, sir, upon my
word and on the remnant of mine honour, he
has the voice that thou dost need if thou
wouldst win the favor of the Queen. He has
the voice, and thou the thingumbobs to make
the most of it. Don't be a fool, now; hear
him sing. That 's all I ask. Just hear him
once. Thou 'It pawn thine ears to hear him
twice."
The music-school stood within the old cathe-
dral grounds. Through the windows came up
distantly the murmur of the throng in Paul's
Yard. It was mid-afternoon, quite warm; blun-
dering flies buzzed up and down the lozenged
panes, and through the dark hall crept the
humming sound of childish voices reciting
eagerly, with now and then a sharp, small cry
as some one faltered in his lines, and had his
fingers rapped. Somewhere else there were
boyish voices running scales, now up, now
down, without a stop, and other voices singing
harmonies, two parts and three together, here
and there a little flat from weariness.
The stairs were very dark, Nick thought, as
they went up to another floor; but the long
hall they came into there was quite bright with
the sun.
At one end was a little stage, like the one


[MAY,





x897.] MASTER SKYLARK. 551

at the Rose play-house, with a small gallery for fair, which wore a crimson jerkin and a cap.


musicians above it; but everything here was
painted white and gold, and was most scrupu-
lously clean. The rush-strewn floor was filled
with oaken benches, and there were paintings
hanging upon the wall, portraits of old head-
masters and precentors. Some of them were
so dark with time that Nick wondered if they
had been blackamoors.
Master
Gyles closed
the great ------7- ---
door and --.-- '
pulled a
cord that -- -- -- !i
hung by
the stage. i,
A bell jang- I '
led faintly 'rV
somewhere I
in the wall. '
Nick heard ''
the muffled
voices hush,
and then a '
shuffling '.' .
tramp ofslip- \
pered feet
came up the .
outer stair.
Pouf! ;
said the pre-
centor crustil}.
" Tezmfusfug: ihal
is to say, we have no time
to waste. So, marry, boy, venife,
exultemus in other words, if thou
canst sing, be up and at it. Come,
canlate -sing, I bid thee, and that "'THAT
instanter-if thou canst sing at all."
The under-masters and monitors were push-
ing the boys into their seats. Carew pointed
to the stage. "Thou 'It do thy level best!"
he said in a low, hard tone, and something
clashed beneath his cloak like steel on steel.
Nick went up the steps behind the screen.
It seemed cold in the room; he had not no-
ticed it before. Yet there were sweat-drops
upon his forehead. He felt as if he were a
jackanapes he had seen once at the Stratford


;
:(
, <
?


The man who had the jackanapes played
upon a pipe and a tabor; and when he said,
"Dance!" the jackanapes danced, for it was
sorely afraid of the man. Yet when Nick
looked around and did not see the master-
player anywhere in the hall, he felt exceedingly
lonely all at once without him, though he both
feared and hated him.
There still was a shuffl-
:-, i, ..I leet and a low
St:,l.,r g; but soon it
1,, '' .'' Il_ lme very quiet,
S' n.i they all seem-
':: .' I.'.i to be waiting
ic-'r him to begin.
H.- did not care,
S' .b.LI supposed he
i''ight as well:
S'i hat else could
SIe do ?
There was a
clock some-
where tick-
ing quickly
i with its
Sr sharp,me-
S tallic ring.
i eAs he lis-
tened, lonely,
his heart cried
out for home.
In his fancy
Lhe wind seemed
-' rippling over the
Avon, and the elm-
-. leaves rustled like
rain upon the roof
DICE, THAT VOICE! NAT GYLES above his bed.
PANTED TO HIMSELF."
There were red and
white wild-roses in the hedge, and in the air a
smell of clover and of new-mown hay. The
mowers would be working in the clover in the
moonlight. He could almost see the sweep of
the shining scythes, and hear the chink-a-chank,
chink-a-chank of the whetstone on the long,
curving blades. Chink-a-chank, chink-a-chank
't was but the clock, and he in London town.
Carew, sitting there behind the carven
prompter's-screen, put down his head between


vc






MASTER SKYLARK.


his hands and listened. There were murmur-
ings a little while, then silence. Would the
boy never begin? He pressed his knuckles
into his temples and waited. Bow Bells rang
out the hour; but the room was as still as a
deep sleep. Would the boy never begin?
The precentor sniffed. It was a contemptu-
ous, incredulous sniff. Carew looked up-his
lips white, a fierce red spot in each.cheek. He
was talking to himself: By the whistle of the
Lord High Admiral!" he said-but there he
stopped and held his breath. Nick was singing.
Only the old madrigal, with its half-forgotten
words that other generations sang before they
fell asleep. How queer it sounded there! It
was a very simple tune, too; yet, as he sang,
the old precentor started from his chair and
pressed his wrinkled hands together against his
breast. He quite forgot the sneer upon his
face, and it went fading out like breath from a
frosty pane.
He had twelve boys who could sing a hun-
dred songs at sight from unfamiliar notes; who
kept the beat and marked the time as if their
throats were pendulums; could syncopate and
floriate as readily as breathe. And this was
only a common country song.
But That voice, that voice! he panted
to himself: for old Nat Gyles was music-mad;
melody to him was like the very breath of life.
And the boy's high, young voice, soft as a flute
and silver clear, throbbed in the air as if his
very heart were singing out of his body in the
sound. And then, -like the skylark rising, up,
up it went, and up, up, up, till the older-choris-
ters held their breath and feared that the vi-
brant tone would break, so slender, film-like
was the trembling thread of the boy's wild sky-
lark song. But no; it trembled there, high,
sweet, and clear, a moment in the air; and
then came running, rippling, floating down, as
though some one had set a song on fire in the
sky, and dropped it quivering and bright into
a shadow world. Then suddenly it was gone,
and the long hall was still.
The old precentor stepped beyond the screen.
Gaston Carew's face was in his hands, and his
shoulders shook convulsively: I '11 leave thee
go, lad,- ma foi, I '11 leave thee go. But,
nay, I dare not leave thee go! "


Some one came and tapped him on the
shoulder. It was the sub-precentor. "Master
Gyles would speak with thee, sir," said he, in a
low tone, as if half afraid of the sound of his
own voice in the quiet that was in the hall.
Carew drew his hand hastily over his face,
as if to take the old one off and-put a new one
on, then arose and followed the man.
The old precentor stood with his hand still
clasped against his breast. "Mirabile!" he
was saying with bated breath. "It is impossi-
ble, and I have dreamed! Yet credo- I be-
lieve-quia impossible est-because it is im-
possible. Tell me, Carew, do I wake or dream
-or, stay, was it a soul I.heard ? Ay, Carew,
't was a soul: the lad's own white, young soul.
My faith, I said he was of no account! Satis
verborum--say no more. Hfumanum esterrare
--I am a poor old fool; and there 's a sour
bug flown in mine eye that makes it water so "
He wiped his eyes, for the tears were running
down his cheeks.
"Thou 'It take him, then ? asked Carew.
"Take him ? cried the old precentor, catch-
ing the master-player by the hand. Marry,
that will I; a voice like that grows not on
every bush. Take him? Pouf! I know my
place he shall be entered on the rolls at
once."
'" Good!" said Carew. "I shall have him
learn to dance, and teach him how to act my-
self. He stays with me, ye understand; thy
school fare is miserly. I '11 dress him, too; for
these students' robes are shabby stuff. But for
the rest "
"Trust me," said Master Gyles; "he shall be
the first singer of them all. He shall be taught
- but who can teach the lark its song, and not
do horrid murder on it ? Faith, Carew, I '11
teach the lad myself; ay, all I know. I stud-
ied in the best schools in the world."
"And, hark 'e, Master Gyles," said Carew
sternly all at once; "thou 'lt come no royal
placard and seizure on me ye have sworn.
The boy is mine to have and to hold, with all
that he earns, in spite of thy prerogatives."
For the kings of old had given the masters
of this school the right to take for St. Paul's
choir whatever voices pleased them, wherever
they might be found, by force if not by favor,










~A.AIAJl a.


I


"AS THEY CAME ABEAM, CAREW, RISING, DOFFED HIS HAT, AND -BOWED POLITELY TO THIEM ALL.'


-.--*


~
L


.. ..--_"W


L-~nna





MASTER SKYLARK.


barring only the royal singers at Windsor; and
when men have such privileges it is best to be
wary how one puts temptation in their way.
Thou hadst mine oath before I even saw
the boy," said the precentor haughtily. Dost
think me perjured -Primus Mfagister Schola-
rum, Custos Morum, Quartus Custos Rotlu-
loruin? Pouf! I know my place. My oath's
my oath. But, soft; enough -here comes the
boy. Who could have told a skylark in such
popinjay attire ? "

CHAPTER XXIII.
A NEW LIFE.
AND now a strange, new life began for Nich-
olas Attwood, in some things so grand and
kind that he almost hated to dislike it.
It was different in every way from the sim-
ple, pinching round in Stratford, and full of all
the comforts of richness and plenty that make
life happy excepting home and mother.
Master Gaston Carew would have nothing
but the best, and what he wanted, whether he
needed it or not; so with him money came like
a summer rain, and went like water out of a
sieve: for he was a wild blade.
They ate their breakfast when they pleased;
dined at eleven, like the nobility; supped at
five, as was the fashion of the court. They had
wheatbread the whole week round, as only rich
folk could afford, with fruit and berries in their
season, and honey from the Surrey bee-farms
that made one's mouth water with the sight of
it dripping from the flaky comb; and on Fri-
days spitchcocked eels, pickled herrings, and
plums, with simnel-cakes, poached eggs and
milk, cream cheese and cordial, like very kings;
so that Nick could not help thriving.
The master-player very seldom left him by
himself to mope or to be melancholy; but while
ever vaguely promising to let him go, did every-
thing in his power to make him rather wish to
stay; so that Nick was constantly surprised by
the free-handed kindness of this man whom he
had every other reason in the world, he thought,
for deeming his worst enemy.
When there were any new curiosities in Fleet
Street,- wild men with rings in their noses,
wondrous fishes, puppet-shows, or red-capped


baboons whirling on a pole,- Carew would
have Nick see them as well as Cicely; and often
took them both to Bartholomew's Fair, where
there was a giant eating raw beef and a man
dancing upon a rope high over the heads of
the people. He would have had Nick every
Thursday to the bear-baiting in the Paris Gar-
den circus besides; but one sight of that brutal
sport made the boy so sick that they never
went again, but to the stage-plays at the Rose
instead, which Nick enjoyed immensely, for
Carew himself acted most excellently, and
Master Tom Heywood always came and spoke
kindly to the lonely boy.
For, in spite of all, Nick's heart ached so at
times that he thought it would surely break
with longing for his mother. And at night,
when all the house was still and dark, and he
alone in bed, all the little, unconsidered things
of home the beehives and the fragrant mint
beside the kitchen door, the smell of the baking
bread or frying carrots, the sound of the red-
cheeked harvest apples dropping in the orchard,
and the plump of the old bucket in the well -
came back to him so vividly that many a time
he cried himself to sleep, and could not have
forgotten if he would.
On Midsummer Day there was a Triumph on
the river at Westminster, with a sham-fight and
a great shooting of guns and hurling of balls of
wild-fire. The Queen was there, and the am-
bassadors of France and Venice, with the Duke
of Lennox and the Earls of Arundel and
Southampton. Master Carew took a wherry
to Whitehall, and from the green there they
watched the show.
The Thames was fairly hidden by the boats,
and there was a grand state bark all trimmed
with silk and velvet for the Queen to be in to
see the pastime. But as for that, all Nick could
make out was the high carved stern of the
bark, painted with England's golden lions, and
the bark was so far away that he could not
even tell which was the Queen.
Coming home by Somerset House, a large
barge passed them with many watermen row-
ing, and fine carpets about the seats; and in it
the old Lord Chamberlain and his son my Lord
Hunsdon, who, it was said, was to be the Lord
Chamberlain when his father died; for the old


[MAY,







MASTER SKYLARK.


lord was failing, and the Queen liked clever
young men about her.
In the barge, besides their followers, were a
company of richly dressed gentlemen, who were
having a very gay time together, and seemed
to please the old Lord Chamberlain exceed-
ingly with the things they said. They were
somebodies, as Nick could very well see from
their carriage and address; and, so far as the
barge allowed, they were all clustered about
one fellow in the seat by my Lord Hunsdon.
He seemed to be the chiefest spokesman of
them all, and every one appeared very glad in-
deed to be friendly with him. My Lord Huns-
don himself made free with his nobility, and
sat beside him arm in arm.
What he was saying they were too far away
to hear in the shouting and splash; but those
with him in the barge were listening as eagerly
as children to a merry tale. Sometimes they
laughed until they held their sides; and then
again as suddenly they were very quiet, and
played softly with their tankards and did not
look at each other as he went gravely on tell-
ing his story. Then all at once he would wave
his hand gaily and his smile would sparkle out,
and the whole company, from the old Lord
Chamberlain down, would brighten up again,
as if a new dawn had come over the hills into
their hearts from the light of his hazel eyes.
Nick made no doubt that this was some
young earl rolling in wealth; for who else could
have such listeners ? Yet there was, neverthe-
less, something so familiar in his look that he
could not help staring at him as the barge came
thumping through the jam.
They passed along an oar's-length or two
away; and as they came abeam, Carew, rising,
doffed his hat, and bowed politely to them all.
In spite of his wild life, he was a striking,
handsome man.


The old Lord Chamberlain said something
to his son, and pointed with his hand. All the
company in the barge turned round to look;
and he who had been talking stood up quickly
with his hand upon the young lord's arm, and
smiling, waved his cap.
Nick gave a sharp cry.
Then the barge pushed through, and shot
away down stream like a wild swan.
Why, Nick," exclaimed Cicely, "how dread-
ful thou dost look! and, frightened, she caught
him by the hand. "Why, oh!- what is it,
Nick thou art not ill ? "
It was Will Shakspere! cried Nick, and
sank into the bottom of the wherry with his
head upon the master-player's knee. Oh,
Master Carew," he cried, will ye never leave
me go?"
Carew laid his hand upon the boy's head,
and patted it gently.
Why, Nick," said he, and cleared his throat,
"is not this better than Stratford ? "
"Oh, Master Carew-mother 's there!" was
the reply.
There was no sound but the thud of oars in
the rowlocks and the hollow bubble of the
water at the stern, for they had fallen out of
the hurry and were coming down alone.
Is thy mother a good woman, Nick ?"
asked Cicely.
Carew was staring out into the fading sky.
"Ay, sweetheart," he answered in a queer,
husky voice, suddenly putting his arm about
her and the other around Nick's shoulders.
"None but a good mother could have so
good a son."
Then thou wilt send him home, daddy? "
asked Cicely.
Carew took her hand in his, but answered
nothing.
They had come to the landing.


(To be continued.)












GENERAL GRANT'S WHITE MOUNTAIN RIDE.


By GEORGE B. SMITH.


IN the month of August, in the year 1869,
General Grant, having begun his first adminis-
tration as President of the United States, and
finding himself in need of recreation, deter-
mined to make a flying trip through the prin-
cipal points of interest in the White Mountains.
The weather elsewhere was hot, the mountains
were cool, and he had never visited them.
The President accordingly started with a
party of about twenty-five persons, and made a
brief tour of the mountains, reaching the vil-
lage of Bethlehem, eleven miles from the Profile
House, on the 27th. He stayed at the St.
Clair House, from which point he was to
be conveyed to the Profile House by carriage.
In those days there were no mountain railways
to whirl one from point to point, and from one
large hotel to another as now. Tourists went by
stage and carriage from place to place. Every
morning ten or twelve large "Concord coaches
were backed up to the portico of the Profile,
six horses harnessed to each coach, awaiting
the hour of starting, and when seven o'clock
arrived, they departed, one for Lyttleton, one for
Plymouth, another for the Crawford House, and
so on. It was considered one of the amuse-
ments of the guests, to rise early and see the
stages start. Touring with private coaches as
practised now, with well appointed turnouts
and teams of thoroughbreds, was almost un-
known to the gentlemen of that day.
When General Grant reached Bethlehem,
word was telegraphed to the Profile that he
was waiting to be taken over. At that time a
man by the name of Edward Cox carried people
from the hotel to the Flume, one of the sights
of the mountains. For this purpose he drove a
large wagon, resembling a band-wagon, capable
of seating fifteen persons. It was roomy, the
springs were good, and it had a high box in


front, where Mr. Cox sat and held the reins,
like a genuine Dan Phaeton.
Everybody at the Profile knew Cox, and all
knew he was going over to Bethlehem for the
President, and after dinner the writer walked
out to the stables, where Ed was busy hitch-
ing up and getting ready to go for the general.
Cox loved a good horse as a sculptor loves
a fine piece of statuary or as a painter loves a
beautiful picture.
And, liking the best of horses, he always
had them. It was said there was a snug
comer down in Vermont, known only to him,
where a certain breed of thoroughbred colts
could be had, and that Cox slipped down there
each Spring and bought the choicest of them.
So, in addition to his regular business of carry-
ing sightseers to the Flume, and other points
of interest, he turned a handsome penny each
season by selling fine horses to wealthy buyers;
and many a select pair was transferred from his
stable to those of gentlemen in New York,
Boston, or Philadelphia.
The eight beauties stood in their places before
the Flume Chariot as the last finishing touches
were being given preparatory to the start.
And indeed they were a noble team. Each a
bright bay, with head up and ears erect, with
a coat glistening in the sunshine, and eyes full
of life, they seemed to say, "We are going to
bring the President." Mr. Cox valued the
leaders at $3000. Not a spot or blemish
could be found on the entire team.
About three o'clock Cox started, and jogged
along easily toward Bethlehem. It was one of
the important occasions of his life, and he felt
it. But he did not propose to wear out his
steeds by useless haste, until the time came.
It was eleven solid long mountain miles to
Bethlehem, but, by judicious management, this





















































"OFF FOR THE PROFILE! MAKING A RECORD.


- .


p.- -.c


'
' C-. -"- -'


i~k~~s






GENERAL GRANT'S WHITE MOUNTAIN RIDE.


would be only the better for the animals, and
fit them for the grand effort to come later.
When, about seven o'clock of that calm
August evening, the Presidential party stepped
out of the Sinclair House, General Grant's
trained eye, sweeping over the team with the
glance of a connoisseur, at once recognized its
excellence. Walking quickly to the driver's
seat, he said to Cox, If you have no objec-
tions, I will get up there with you." "It is
pretty rough riding up here, General," was the
reply. I can stand it if you can," said Grant,
as he climbed to the place and settled himself.
The President was dressed in high silk hat,
black suit, and a long linen duster covering as
much of his clothing as possible. The others
of the party adjusted themselves in the big,
heavy wagon according to their ideas of com-
fort, and all was ready. Sixteen people were
in that vehicle, including Mr. Cox.
The driver tightened the reins with a whist!"
and with a spring, in perfect unison, the noble
animals were off for the Profile. The telegraph-
operator at the Sinclair sat with finger on the
key, looking out of the window and watching
for the moment of the start. A message at once
flashed over the wire to the Profile House, say-
ing that they had gone, and the time was noted.
It was precisely seven o'clock.
At the Profile a large company had gathered
in the office, waiting for the arrival. Among
them were several stage drivers, who with be-
coming gravity gave various opinions, as sages
and oracles of profundity in road knowledge,
and fully discussed the situation. It was known
that Cox intended to break all records if he
could; but it was the unanimous expression of
the drivers, knowing every foot of the road as
they did, that Ed" could not make the drive
in less than two hours, and a portion of them
thought he had better make it two and a half,
as the last three miles were right up into the
mountain, with a steep grade all the way into
Franconia Notch. But that he could make the
eleven miles in less than two hours was not
believed for a moment.
Those of my readers who have visited this
famous hotel, the Profile, will remember Echo
Lake, and the little cannon kept there to wake
the echoes. This beautiful sheet of water,


famous far and near for its echoes and their
many repetitions, is about a quarter of a mile
from the hotel, and the Presidential party had
to pass it to get to the house. It had been ar-
ranged that when they drove by, the gunner
should fire the cannon, to announce the fact to
the house. At the hotel we were listening for
the signal-gun, chatting, discussing the event,
and passing the time as best we could, when-
bang! went the gun. The echo-maker had
spoken. We looked at the clock hanging in the
office. It was not believed it was the President.
" It cannot be!" "Look at the time! "Some
mistake has been made!" Such were the ex-
pressions heard on all sides.
The proprietor hurried a bell-boy to the lake,
to ascertain why the gun was fired before the
time. 'But it was the expected party. In what
seemed an incredibly short time we heard the
tramping of the flying steeds, and the rattle of
the chariot; and in another moment they swept
around the corner of the house into plain view.
Never will I forget the scene, as they swung
into the large circular space before the building.
Ed Cox stood up on the foot-board, with teeth
set, eyes blazing, and every rein drawn tight
in his hands. General Grant sat beside him,
holding his hat on with. one hand, the other
grasping the seat. The eight horses were on
the full run, with mouths wide open, ears back
flat to their heads, and nostrils distended. They
were covered with sweat and foam, yet all
under perfect control of the magician on the
box. As they made the circle and drew up in
front of the hotel, Cox threw his weight on the
brake and stopped at once. He had made
the drive in precisely fifty-eight minutes.
In The Century Magazine for November,
1892, Mr. T. Suffern Tailer gave the result of a
trial of speed in modem coaching. This jour-
ney was in France over roads kept in constant
repair by strict enforcement of law, and the trial
was under the direction of Mr. James Gordon
Bennett, which implies that every possible effort
,was made to insure quick time. The course
was from the Herald office in Paris to Trouville,
distant 140 miles. Horses stationed in advance
were changed thirteen times, and driven, as Mr.
Tailer himself shows, unsparingly. Nine peo-
pie were in the party, and the time made was,


[MAY,






GENERAL GRANT'S WHITE MOUNTAIN RIDE.


for the entire trip, ten hours and fifty minutes,
or a little over twelve miles an hour, including
changes, over macadamized French roads, com-
paratively level.
Contrast this showing of twelve miles in sixty
minutes, with every advantage, and that of
eleven miles in fifty-eight minutes, over moun-
tain roads in the country, eight horses to be
driven, with sixteen people to carry, and the














.b

















"GENERAL GRANT WAS HOLDING HIS HAT ON WITH ONE
HAND, THE OTHER GRASPING THE SEAT."
reader can easily see which is the greater per-
formance. It is probable that Mr. Cox's
achievement has never been excelled, when
everything is considered.
General Grant, as he dismounted from his
lofty perch, was a curious spectacle. Covered
with dust from head to foot, he had the appear-
ance of a man who had been rolled in the road.
Hat, hair, and whiskers had suffered alike, and
including his clothing he was all dust color.


When the other carriages had come up, and
the whole party was registered, it presented
some names well known to our country. It
included General Grant and Mrs. Grant, Miss
Nelly Grant, and Master Jesse R. Grant; the
Governor of New Hampshire, his wife and two
daughters. Also one of the senators from New
Hampshire, a former Minister to Switzerland,
a president of a railroad, and others.
But to all these, one of the heroes of the
occasion was Ed Cox. After driving to the
stables and caring for the horses, he came into
the office of the hotel. In reply to a question
as to how the horses were, he said they were
ready to make the same trip over again if
called upon. But he held up his little fingers,
showing that they were so stiff he could not
bend them; he said they would ache all night.
After supper and an impromptu reception in
the parlor, the President came down into the
hotel office, where he entertained a few of those
who happened to be present with a description
of his ride. He said he supposed he had had
as many opportunities of seeing fine driving as
men in general, but that the manner in which
Mr. Cox handled his big team surpassed any-
thing he had ever witnessed. Nothing could
be more skilful than the driver's avoidance of
most of the ruts and gullies along the route.
The President said that at no time on the
journey was he uneasy. He saw they were
getting over the ground, but did not realize the
rapid gait at which they were going. The
great soldier further said that the last three
miles were enough to test the wind and en-
durance of any ordinary team, but that these
horses traveled better the farther they went.
Such was General Grant's opinion of his
wonderful drive from Bethlehem to the Profile
House, on that evening in August, nearly
twenty-eight years ago. And among the tra-
ditions of the Profile House that the old stage-
drivers still love to relate, and over which
they linger with fond recollection, is Ed Cox's
great achievement of driving eight horses
eleven miles in fifty-eight minutes over the
mountain roads, with sixteen persons in the
Flume Chariot, and with General Grant beside
him on the box.











A SHIFTING BOUNDARY.


By FRANK H. SPEARMAN.


ST. NICHOLAS class in Geography, stand up !
Big class, is n't it ? Here is a problem for
you in State boundaries:
Bound the State of Iowa for me. All to-
gether now !
Minnesota on the north; Mississippi River
on the east; Missouri on the south; South
Dakota and the Missouri River on the west."
Are you quite unanimous?
Quite."
Then you are quite unanimously wrong.
Does your teacher say you are right? Does
your geography say you are right? ST. NICH-
OLAS'S compliments then to both, and both are
wrong. Why? Because part of the State of
Iowa lies west of the Missouri River: so it is
bounded on the west by South Dakota, the
Missouri River, and Nebraska. Now don't
look for a large portion of Iowa west of the
Missouri a whole county, or anything of that
sort. If there were several hundred square
miles of it over there, your teachers would know
all about it. You would n't have the fun of
correcting them; neither would ST. NICHOLAS
be obliged to set the geographers right. Be-
sides, have n't your teachers always warned
you to be correct in small things? There is
at least enough of Iowa over there to have
caused a serious trouble between Iowa and
Nebraska, which, after no end of bickering and
years of angry litigation, had to be settled at
last by the wise men of the East that is,
by the Supreme Court at Washington, which
finally decided that Iowa's claim to several
miles of territory on the Nebraska side of the
Missouri was perfectly valid.
Of course you 've heard of the curious freaks
of the Missouri River the Big Muddy":
how the sudden, treacherous mountain waters
roll down in mighty floods from Montana and
Wyoming, ricochet from side to side of the
broad valley they have eaten deep into the soft


prairies, and pour headlong into the Mississippi
near St. Louis; how, night and day, winter
and summer, the twisting torrent shifts its chan-
nel, cuts its banks, undermines railroads, aston-
ishes the muskrats, keeps the fish studying
guide-posts, worries the bridge guards, and sets
the farmers crazy. For, just think of it: the
Nebraska farmer whose land stretches along
the river goes to bed thinking he will cut his
broad acres of golden wheat in the morning;
but lo! in the night that madcap river has
entered his waving fields, and like snow they
have melted away. Grain, fences, trees, build-
ings, land are gone! And a great, sullen,
yellow flood boils and eddies where his harvest
smiled yesterday.
Next week, very likely, the reckless stream
will make his neighbor across the river a pres-
ent of a hundred or more acres, just because
he does n't need them. Of course it was natu-
ral for a man who lost his land that way to look
longingly across the river, and think, after a
while, that the newly made land over there be-
longed to him; and many a wearisome lawsuit
has been begun to recover title to "made"
land which lies, maybe, exactly where the lost
farm lay, but on the other side of the river.
Perhaps there is some equity in such a claim;
but the trouble is, that sort of thing is going on
all the time, and the courts said they could n't
keep track of such pranks; that lands acquired
by accretion mark that word should be-
long to the farmer who owned the river-bank
where they were thrown up; that if the river
took your farm, you would have to fish it out
of the stream you lost it in; at least, you
need n't ask the courts to give you another
for it.
I suppose an injunction might be issued
commanding the Missouri River to stop stealing
farms in that way; but that would be like try-
ing to mandamus a comet. Suppose the river





A SHIFTING BOUNDARY. 501

paid no attention to the injunction ? How straying west once in a while; but what earthly
could it be punished if it did swallow a town- excuse could it have for running right back
ship ? And you know judges are very touchy north? Yet that is just what it used to do at a
on a question of contempt. So the unhappy point just above Omaha. It almost "boxed the
farmer- the farmless farmer, so to speak compass "- for it ran in nearly every direction.
subsided, and the courts thought they were If you wish to see its course for yourself, look
through for good with the River Missouri. at this map of its bends at that place.
But they did n't be-
gin to comprehend the -
disposition and the abil-
ity of that irresponsible
stream to make trouble .
for the dwellers along
its banks. Now, this is -
the way it tangled up
a boundary line, set
two friendly States at
odds, and finally ran- ''
into the Supreme Court .
of the United States
at Washington, so, to .c .'
speak.
You must know that /

Missouri is to carry the
mountain waters east *,
and south into the -




N "
Gulf of Mexico. But -
in bounding from side q // ,
to side of its valley "
through the tedious LJ I
centuries, it has twisted -- -
and turned so many .,* .
times that no doubt ".' -
its head is confused. I
Carrying the quantity
of mud it does, you 2 i.
would hardly expect --
it to be clear-headed. COUNCIL
There is actually so BLUFFS
much sand in the wa- '- A Ai. i \ TBLU
H-L -,I-
ter that the fish all F \_ e .I-t'iT
have sore eyes: some I --: s.I ,.f Ml.=
are totally blind- the Ir'---I Iii i ;. I
saddest-looking crea-
tures you ever caught. MAP SHOWING THE COURSE OF THE MISSOURI RIVER JUST ABOVE OMAHA.
A really fastidious trout or bass dropped into Naturally, such an absurd caper was bound
the Missouri would hang himself in despair- to cause comment that was natural. Just
on a fish-hook, across from Omaha a chain of great, beetling
Now the Missouri might be forgiven for bluffs towers above the valley. Indians say
VOL. XXIV.--7I.





A SHIFTING BOUNDARY.


they stand there to keep the river from over-
flowing Iowa; and stern, silent, trusty sentinels
they are. It was at their grassy feet that the
big, painted warriors of the Omahas and the
Kickapoos, the Sioux and the Pottawottomies,
the Arapahoes and the Pawnees, used to gather
in council many years ago. Well, those very
bluffs -it was the red men who gave them the
name Council Bluffs- fell to gossiping, one
wild March night, with the East Wind about
the way the River was carrying on. Very old
people like to talk, and that East Wind is a
great gossip anyway, especially in the spring.
Of course, as soon as the East Wind knew of
it, you might say everybody knew of it; and
even the little brown owls in the Bad Lands
smiled when they heard that the impetuous old
Missouri had twisted itself into such a kink
down at Omaha.
But how the river foamed! and oh, so mighty
it is! How do you suppose it cut off that big
bend?
Do you see on the map that row of little
stars running across the river ? Just above that
point the river began throwing driftwood out
on its margins and across the shallow sand-bars
that shift uneasily over its bed. Little flakes
of snow -frosty whispers of the north wind-
froze like muddy nightcaps on the bars. Big
cakes of ice swiftly plunging on the yellow
current were lodged warily in that bend, just
where they would lay hold of others whirling by.
All night, with tireless anger, that river
worked, until at daylight, when the bluffs
rubbed the snow out of their eyes, all they
could see was a bristling field of ice, with only
a strip of water like a black thread through the
middle, where the current seethed and foamed
in a fury. Even while they stared in amaze-
ment, the river, dragging down a tremendous
ice-floe torn from some mountain stream,
hurled it straight into the boiling gap. Just a
minute it tossed and crashed there, then a mil-
lion ragged sheets of ice piled on it like a
shower of rocks and sank it. Into that snap-
ping, grinding funnel the river poured anchor-
ice, big and little, so fast that suddenly it
choked, and presto! a vast ice-jam, glittering,


heaving, crashing, groaning, rose far above the
banks, and for an instant stopped the mighty
Missouri. Behind the stubborn barrier the
river churned and swelled in a dreadful rage,
until at last, rearing above its banks, it poured
a flood of tiny rivulets like wriggling snakes
over the valley. One of them, following the
path shown by the group of four arrows on
the map, found the river-bed again away down
stream, and the great lake that had formed
above the ice-jam, coursing after that little
stream, cut, little by little, then tore, with awful
wrenches, a new channel right through that
neck of land; and there the river has flowed
ever since, leaving an old river-bed several
miles long and full of all sorts of crabs and tur-
tles-just fancy!- to be sold for the taxes.
But imagine how that night's work tangled
up the Iowa-Nebraska boundary line There
was a big piece of Iowa torn right off-all that
tract within the great bend. Lying close to
Omaha, it was very valuable. It is nearly all
dry land now and covered with a network of
railroad tracks. Being on the Nebraska side
after that night, Nebraska claimed it; but Iowa
insisted it still belonged to her, and went right
on taxing the property just as before. The
people who lived on the disputed strip never
could tell in which State they lived. It was
absurd. One day they were asked to vote for
somebody in Iowa, and the next for somebody
in Nebraska. Of course there came a clash
of authority before long, and into court went
the two States, dragging the river after them,
so to speak. Nebraska's lawyers reminded the
court of all it had said about accretion; but
Iowa's lawyers-just see now what it is to be
clever-said the court would please distinguish
between accretion and avulsion. Look up the
difference between these two words in "The
Century Dictionary" right away; for Iowa
retained the title to that land by precisely that
difference.
That is how Iowa happens to reach across the
Missouri River at that point, and at no other.

Now, ST. NICHOLAS class in Geography,
bound the State of Iowa!


562















BY KATHARINE PYLE.

SHOULD like," said the vase from the china-
store,
"To have seen the world a little more.


"When they carried me here I was wrapped up
tight,
But they say it is really a lovely sight."

"Yes," said a little plaster bird,
"That is exactly what I have heard;

"There are thousands of trees, and oh, what a sight
It must be when the candles are all alight."

The fat top rolled on his other side:
" It is not in the least like that," he cried.

"Except myself and the kite and ball,
None of you know of the world at all.

"There are houses, and pavements hard and red,
And everything spins around," he said;

"Sometimes it goes slowly, and sometimes fast,
And often it stops with a bump at last."

The wooden donkey nodded his head:
"I had heard the world was like that," he said.

The kite and the ball exchanged a smile,
But they did not speak; it was not worth while.












EIKe


By OLIVER HERFORD.


A DARK old Raven lived in a tree,
With a little Tree-frog for company,


The thrushes too gay, or the owls too glum;
And the squirrels--well, they were too
squirrelsome.

And as for the trees, why did they grow
In a wood, of all places?- he'd like to know.


In the midst of a forest so thick with trees
Only thin people could walk with ease.

Yet though the forest was dank and dark
The little Tree-frog was gay as a lark;

He piped and trilled the livelong day,
While the Raven was just the other way:

He grumbled and croaked from morn till
night,
And nothing in all the world was right.

The moon was too pale, or the sun too
bright;
The sky was too blue, or the snow too
white;







THE ENCHANTED WOOD.


565


He divined of a sudden, by magic lore,
A thing I forgot to mention before:

That the forest and all that therein did
'" idwell
". Owed their present shape to an ancient spell.

S. Now a, spell, though a tiresome job to make,
SIs the easiest thing in the world to break,
When you once know how to perform the
-trick,
As Merlin did.
S'' Waving his magic stick,

S He cried, Let this forest and everything
in it
/. Take its former shape "
Ta .When lo in a minute,

In place of the Raven, a stem old sage
All robed in black and all bent with age;

And where the little Tree-frog had been
.* Sat a goodly youth all dressed in green;
And around about was a flowery lawn
SWhere the forest had been.
Said the sage, with a yawn:
A wood is so dark and unhealthy, too,
For trees; and besides, they obstruct the I must have been dozing well, to resume-
view. As I was saying, this world of gloom -"

And so it went on from morn till night: "Oh, bother the world of gloom-
The Tree-frog piping with pure just hear
delight, That thrush! cried the youth; "the
first this year!"

And the Raven croaking with
all his might
That nothing in all the
world was right.

Well, in this same wood,
it chanced one day
The enchanter Merlin lost
his way;

And stopping to rest neathh "
the very tree ,4.
Where the Raven and
Tree-frog were tak-
ing their tea,











THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS.


BY WILLIAM HENRY SHELTON.


[Begun in the November number.]

CHAPTER XII.

HOW THE BEAR DISGRACED HIMSELF.

AT last the long winter came to an end. By
the middle of March the warm sun and soft
south winds begin to thaw the February snows.
On such a day, when the afternoon sun beat
with unusual warmth on the northern face of
the mountain, the three soldiers stood together
in front of the house, noting everywhere the
joyful signs of the approach of spring. The
snow, where it lay thickest in the hollows of the
plateau, was soft and porous and grimy with
dirt. There were bare spaces here and there
on the ground, and where a stick or a stone
showed through the thin crust the snow had re-
tired around it as if it gave out a heat of its
own. The melting icicles pendent from the
eaves glittered in the sun and dripped into the
channels alongside the walls.
They had a great longing to see the grass
and the leaves again and welcome the early
birds of spring. As they looked about on these
hopeful signs in the midst of the great stillness
to which they had become used, a sudden deaf-
ening crash rang in their startled ears. The
sound was like the explosion of a mine or the
dull roar of a siege-mortar at a little distance
away. It came from the Cove to the north, and
the first crash was followed by lesser reports,
and each sound was echoed back from the
mountains beyond.
The first thought of the three soldiers was of
the opening of a battle. Their first fear was
that a great mass of earth and rock had fallen
from the edge of the plateau to the base of the
mountain. They made their way cautiously
in the direction of the sound, almost distrust-
ing the ground under their feet. The gnarled
chestnuts on the edge of the cliff were as firmly


rooted as ever. When they had advanced to
where Philip's sharp eyes caught the first view
of the postmaster's cabin through the twisted
tree-trunks, he remembered the words of Andy,
the guide, on the night when they had waited
for the moon to go down. He quickly caught
the arms of his companions.
"It's the avalanche," he said: "the icicles
and the ice falling into the Cove from the face
of the great boulder."
They could see tiny figures standing about
the cabin, and they shrank back lest they, too,
might be seen by the people, who were evi-
dently gazing with all their eyes at the top of
the mountain.
Just then there was another deafening crash,
and at intervals all day long they heard the
falling of the ice.
They are the opening guns of spring," said
Lieutenant Coleman; and now that they knew
what the sound was, they listened eagerly for
each report.
Late on that very afternoon, as they sat to-
gether outside the house, they saw "Tumbler,"
the bear, shambling down the hillside in front
of the house, and they had no doubt he had
been awakened from his winter's nap by the
roar of the avalanche. He was thin of flesh
and ragged of fur, and so weak on his clumsy
legs that he sat down at short intervals to rest.
He made his way first to the branch, where
he refreshed himself with a drink, and then
came on with renewed vigor toward the house.
He was such a very disreputable-looking bear,
and had been gone so long, and must be so
dangerously hungry, that the men stood up
doubtfully at his approach until they saw a
weak movement of his stumpy tail and the
mild look in his brown eyes as he seated him-
self on the chips and lolled out his red tongue.
Philip brought him a handful of roast pota-
toes, which he devoured with a relish, and
566






THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS.


then stood up so handsomely to ask for more
that they rolled him raw ones until his hunger
was satisfied, after which he waddled through
the open door, and lay down for another nap
in his old place by the fire, just as if he had
gone out but yesterday, which was probably
just what he thought he had done.
By this time the last page of the station
journal had been used, and Lieutenant Cole-
man had added to it the five fly-leaves of the
precious Blue Book, which he had cut out
neatly with his knife. Paper was so scarce at
last that on this March 16, which was the day
the bear woke up, the circumstance of the
.avalanche alone was recorded, and that was
entered after the date in the most wonderfully
small and cramped letters you can imagine.
Now, Philip was of the opinion that the return
of the bear was of quite as much importance
as the falling of the ice. It happened that he
had in his breast-pocket a letter which had
been written to him by his uncle. It was post-
marked, "Piqua, Ohio," and addressed, Philip
Welton, Co. C, 2d Ohio Infy., Camp near
Resaca, Ga." Philip had been looking over
Coleman's shoulder as he made the cramped
entry in the diary.
Now look here," said he, taking up the
quill as it was laid down. If you don't
choose to make a record of the bear, I will."
So taking from his pocket the letter, he wrote
across the top of the envelope :

WHITESIDE MOUNTAIN, March 16, 1865.
"Tumbler," the bear, woke up to-day.
Signed, PHILIP WELTON,
GEORGE BROMLEY,
FREDERICK HENRY COLEMAN.

"Well," said Coleman, what are you going
to do with that? Drop it over into the Cove?"
Not a bit of it," said Philip. I am just
going to keep the record out of respect to the
bear ; and with that, as it happened, he put the
envelope back in one pocket and the letter in
another. But a few weeks later, when the
snow had quite gone and the buds were begin-
ning to swell on the trees, Philip was chopping
on the hill where the boulder side of the moun-
tain joined the cliff above the spring; and as he
grew warm with his work he cast off his cavalry


jacket, and it happened in some way that the
envelope on which he had written fell out into
the grass. Philip did not notice this loss at the
time, and it was a week before he missed the
envelope. He kept his loss to himself at first;
but as he became alarmed lest it should blow
over into the Cove and disclose their hiding-
place, he confessed to Lieutenant Coleman
what had happened.
The three soldiers searched everywhere for
this dangerous paper, except in the snug place
under the tuft of grass where it lay. It was
suspected that Philip was repenting of the
agreement he had made to remain on the
mountain, and both Coleman and Bromley lec-
tured him roundly for his carelessness. While
Philip was still chafing under the suspicions of
his comrades, all the more that he was con-
scious of his perfect loyalty to the old flag and
to the compact they had made together for
its sake, the bear was growing stronger every
day and more mischievous. Although he had
the whole plateau to roam over, nothing
seemed to please Tumbler so much as to nose
about and dig into the grave of the Old Man
of the Mountain. He was such a wicked bear
that the more they kicked and cuffed him away,
the more stubbornly he came back to his un-
holy work; and then it appeared that the light
soil of the mound had been taken possession of
by a colony of ants. It was a temptation such
as no hungry.bear could resist, and the sacri-
lege was so offensive to the three soldiers that
they resolved to remove the last remnant of the
ant-hill and fill it in with clay in which no in-
sect could live. It was after supper when they
came to this resolution, and they fell to work at
once with the wooden spade and a piece of
tent-cloth, in which Philip carried the dirt a
stone's-throw away and piled it into a new
mound. The bear seemed to think this was all
for his benefit, and while the work went mer-
rily on he rooted into the new heap and
wagged his stumpy tail with every evidence of
gratitude and satisfaction.
It was a sufficiently disagreeable task for
Coleman and Bromley, whose legs and bodies
were bitten by the ants until they danced with
pain. At the same time the little pests went
up Philip's sleeves and came out on his neck.





THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS.


Bad as the business was, they set their teeth
and kept at work, determined to finish it now
they had begun. Of course the colony was
mostly near the surface of the ground; but
when they had gone down three feet into the
sandy soil there were still ants burrowing about.
Now, Bromley was a man of great resolution
and perseverance, and although it was growing
dark he had no thought of stopping work; so
he called for a pine torch, which Coleman held
on the bank above. When the earth gave
Way, the oak slab with the peculiar inscrip-
tion, "One who wishes to be forgotten," was
tenderly removed and leaned against the hut to
be reverently reset the next day. Annoying as
the ants were, the soldiers continued their work
with that feeling of awe which always attends
the disturbing of a grave; and as they dug they
spoke with charity and tenderness of the Old
Man of the Mountain. It made them think of
the time when they themselves would be laid to
rest in the same soil; and if they breathed any
inward prayer, it was that their remains might
sleep undisturbed. Although they were young,
and death seemed a long way off, the thought
came to them of the last survivor, and how
lonely he would be, and how when he should
die there would be no one left to bury his poor
body in the ground.
"Whatever happens," said Philip, I don't
want to be the last."
The pine torch flared and smoked in the cool
night wind, and lighted the solemn faces of the
three soldiers as well as the hole in the earth,
where Bromley still stood to his middle. There
was yet a little loose earth to be thrown out be-
fore they left the work for the night, and Philip
had brought some sticks of wood to lay over
the grave lest in the morning the bear should
begin to dig where they had left off. He had,
in fact, come up and seated himself in the circle
of light, and was looking on with great interest
at their proceedings.
I declare," said Bromley just then, straight-
ening himself, I have gone too far already.
My spade struck on the coffin that is, I think
it did. Perhaps I had better see what condi-
tion it is in. What do you think, Fred ?"
"No," said Philip; cover it up."
"It will be as well," said Lieutenant Cole-


man, "now that we have the opportunity, to
see that everything is all right. I can't help
feeling that the old man's remains are in our
care."
Hold the light nearer, then," said Bromley,
as he got down on his knees and commenced
to paw away the loose earth with his hands.
Philip was silent, and, soldier though he was,
his face blanched in the neighborhood of one
poor coffin.
Both the men outside were staring intently
into the open grave. The torch-light fell broadly
on Bromley's back, and cast a black shadow
from his bent body into the space below, where
his hands were at work.
"Well, this is queer said he, straightening
his back and showing a surprised face to the
light. I 've struck the chime of a cask.",
"No cried C6leman and Philip together.
"Yes, I have," said Bromley. "Hand me
the spade."
Now the work of digging was begun in good
earnest, and I am afraid with less awe than be-
fore of what lay below. Light as the soil was,
the opening had to be enlarged, and it was hard
upon midnight when the small beer-keg was
free enough to be moved from its resting-place.
With the first joggle Bromley gave it, there was
a sound of chinking like coin.
"Do you hear that? exclaimed Bromley.
" That 's not the sound of bones."
It 's money!" cried Philip.
Lieutenant Coleman said nothing, but jump-
ing down to the aid of Bromley, they lifted it
out on the grass, where it rolled gently down a
little slope, chink-a-ty-chink, chink-a-ty-chink.
Bring the ax "
No; let's roll it into the house !"
"It 's money "
It 's nails! "
Bring it in to the fire," said Lieutenant
Coleman, going ahead with the torch. So they
rolled the tough old cask, chink-a-ty-chink,
around the cabin and up to the house, into
the open door and across the earthen floor,
and set it on end on the stone hearth.. They
were reeking with perspiration.' Coleman threw
the torch upon the smoldering logs, and by the
time Bromley had the ax there was a ruddy
light through the room.


568






THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS.


Stand back," he cried, as he swung the ax The three soldiers hugged one another with
aloft, delight.
Three times the ax rang on the head of the We are rich !" cried Philip.
cask, the firelight glittering in the eyes of the "Let 's count our treasure," said Coleman.
soldiers, before the strong head gave way on "The double-eagles first fifty to a thousand."
one side, and three golden Forgotten was the Old Man of the
guineas bounced out Mountain; forgotten were their
)n to the he.iit!h. i -.e Aru-i F in..i thi. lateness of
Bromley dropped .r I-e o:ur. they eagerly
:he ax, and th].:n tell .-,..umtl .
all three, without f i.> ,lP,1 the shining
deigning to no.ice .eit. u *.--llns on the
the gold piec. diow rodl :e; and when
upon the floor. .. tl ~i:s full, with-
thrust their .:,ur tro.:pping to count
hands deep i le rtI usands, they
down into the .: e. ,i bunches of
shining mass 'is ; on the hard
of gold coin. floor.
All hustled They could
and pushed hardly believe
one another that such a
at the open- sv treasure had
ing. Philip fallen to their
was on the possession.
point of strik- a In their
ing out right greedy de-
and left in light they
sheer excite- utterly for-
ment; and in got the old
their scram- flag of the
ble the cask thirty fivc
was overturn- stars and
ed so that the the total de-
yellow pieces feat of the
poured out Union ar-
upon the pine .' mies, as they
floor and the toiled and
hearth, and counted.
some flopped Philip was
into the fire, the first to
A-
while others roll- .'" yield to the
ed here and there mandate of
into the dark co-rneis uired nature.
of the room. The "THE CASK WAS OVERTURNED SO THAT THE YELLOW PIECES With his hands
golden guineas which POURED OUT UPON THE PINE FLOOR," full of gold, he
first appeared were now covered with gold sank down on his bunk and fell asleep. Lieu-
double-eagles, and it was discovered, when the tenant Coleman was the next; and as the cock
top ones were removed, that there were silver began to crow at earliest dawn, Bromley
coins of much variety beneath them. bolted the door for the first time since the
VOL. XXIV.--72.


569





THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS.


house had been built, and crept exhausted into
his blankets.
The treasure was found, as shown by the
diary, on Friday, April 14, in the year 1865, on
the very night of the murder of the good Presi-
dent whom the three soldiers believed to be
living somewhere, a monument of failure and
incapacity.
The entry was in a few brief words, and by
the Sunday which followed, Lieutenant Cole-
man would not have exchanged the four blank
leaves of the diary for the whole treasure they
had dug up. After the first excitement of their
discovery they began to realize that the yellow
stamped pieces were of no value except as a
medium of exchange, and that as there was
nothing on the mountain for which to exchange
them, they were of no value at all. If they had
found a saucepan or a sack of coffee in the
cask, they would have had some reason to re-
joice.
So it fell out that within a week's time the
gold was looked upon as so much lumber, and
the cask which held it was kicked into a dark
corner, neglected and despised. Some of the
coins were even trodden under foot, and others
lay among the chips at the door.
On the evening of the second Sunday after
the discovery of the gold, they sat together
outside the door of the house, and tried to think
of some likely thing the cask might have held
more useless than the guineas and double-
eagles; and, hard as they tried, they could name
nothing more worthless. The result was that
they turned away to their beds, feeling poor
and dissatisfied, and down on their luck.
Now it happened as the three soldiers lay
asleep in their bunks that night, and while
Tumbler slept too, with his nose and his hairy
paws in the light, cool ashes of the fireplace
(for the nights were warm now), there came up
a brisk wind which blew across the mountain
from the northwest. This rising wind went
whistling on its way, tossing the tree-tops, up
on the hill above the birches, whirling the dry
leaves across the plateau, scattering them on
the field below the ledge, and even dropping
some stragglers away down into the Cove far
below.
At first this wind only shook the tuft of grass


that overhung the lost envelope, and then, as it
grew stronger, whirled it from its snug hiding-
place, and tumbled it over and over among
the dry chestnut-burs and the old, gray, dead
limbs.
If the envelope came to a rest, this wind
was never content to leave its plaything alone
for long. When it landed the little paper
against a stump and held it fluttering there
until that particular gust was out of breath, the
envelope fell to the ground of its own weight,
only to be picked up again and tossed on, little
by little, always in the same direction, until at
last it lay exposed on the brow of the hill to a
braver and stronger blast, which lifted it high
into the air and sent it sailing over the roof of
the house.
This envelope, with the names of the three
soldiers and their hiding-place written out in a
fair, round hand, might have sailed along on
the northwest wind until it fell at the door of
the post-office in the Cove but for the queer
way it had of navigating the air. It would
turn over and over on its way, or shoot up or
dart to one side, or take some unexpected
course; and so just as it was sailing smoothly
above the house, its sharp edge turned in the
wind, and with a backward dive it struck hard
on the rock below Philip's leach. Just a
breath of wind turned it over and over on the
stone, until it fell noiselessly into the pool of
lye.
Now, Lieutenant Coleman chanced to come
out first in the morning; and when he saw the
lost envelope floating on the dark-brown pool
alongside a hen's egg, which had been placed
there to test the strength of the liquid, he was
glad it had blown no further. The paper had
turned very yellow in the strong potash, and
so he fished it out with a twig, and carried it
across to the branch by the Slow-John, and
dipped it into the water. When he picked it
out it was still slimy to the touch, and the
letters had faded a little. He brushed a word
with his finger, and the letters dissolved under
his eyes.
He gave a great cry of joy; for in that in-
stant he saw the possibility of converting into
blank paper, for keeping their records, the 594
pages of the Revised Army Regulations of 1863.


570


[MAY,






THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS.


CHAPTER XI.
HOW THE BEAR DISTINGUISHED HIMSELF.
IF the Old Man of the Mountain was not in
his grave, where was he? He had certainly
not gone back to the world and left the buried
treasure behind him. If the grave had been
empty, the soldiers might have suspected foul
play. Josiah Woodring, who had been his
agent and provider, had already been five
years in his own grave at the time they had
arrived on the mountain. As long as they be-
lieved that the bones of the old man were
quietly at rest under the oak slab in the garden
spot, the condition of the hut, neglected and
going to decay, was sufficient evidence that he
had died there, and that no one had occupied
it for more than five years before. With almost
his last breath Josiah had announced his death
to the doctor from the settlement; and un-
der such solemn circumstances it was impos-
sible to believe that he had stated anything but
the truth. He had not mentioned, it is true,
the precise time when the old man died.
After the night when the treasure was found,
the three soldiers, to thoroughly satisfy them-
selves, had cleared away the earth down to the
bedrock. Indeed, the cask itself was evidence
enough that the bones of the old man were not
below it, for he himself must have buried that.
If Josiah had known of its existence, it would
certainly have traveled down through the set-
tlement in his two-steer cart, like any other hon-
est cask, and neither cattle nor driver would
have ever come back. After taking such a load
to market, Josiah would have established him-
self in luxury in his ignorant way, and probably
cut a great splurge in the country roundabout,
with no end of pomp and vulgarity.
The three soldiers studied this problem with
much care, weighing all the evidence for and
against. They even hit upon a plan of determin-
ing when the old man came limping through
the settlement of Cashiers behind Josiah's cart,
covered with dust, and staggering under the
weight of his leather knapsack. They emptied
out the little keg of gold on the earthen floor a
second time, and began a search for the latest
date on the coins. Some were remarkably old
and badly worn. A few of the guinea pieces


bore the heads of the old Georges and Dei
gratia Rex," and 17- this and 17- that, and
some of the figures were as smooth as the pate,
and as blind as the eyes, of the king on the
coin. The newest double-eagles--and there
were quite a number of them-bore the date
1833, so it must have been in that year or the
year following that the old man without a name
had given up the world, and become a hermit
on the mountain.
They decided that he must have had his
own ideas about the vanity of riches, and that
after doling out his gold, or, more likely, his
small silver pieces, with exceeding stinginess
to Josiah for the small services rendered him,
when he saw his end approaching, he had
buried the cask of treasure, and set up the slab
above it, trusting to the superstition with which
the mountain people regarded the desecration
of a grave to protect the gold for all time. It
would certainly have protected it from any ex-
amination by the soldiers but for the strange
behavior of the bear, who had no delicate
scruples. The old man had probably told Jo-
siah, with a cunning leer in his eyes, that the
empty grave was a blind to deceive any one
who might climb to the top of the mountain,
as the hunters had done long before, and very
likely he had given him a great big silver half-
dollar to wink at this little plan. When death
did really come at last to claim its own, it was
evident that Josiah, faithful to the old man's
request, had either taken his remains down the
mountain or buried them somewhere on the
plateau without mound or slab to reveal the
place, and, as likely as not, he had found enough
small change in the old man's pockets to pay
him for his trouble.
Thus the mystery of the Old Man of the
Mountain was settled by the three soldiers, after
much discussion, and the cask of gold was
trundled back into the dark corner of the
house, where they threw their waste, and such
guineas and double-eagles as had joggled out
upon the floor were kicked after it.
Directly after the lost envelope had turned up
in the pool of lye, Lieutenant Coleman had
made his arrangements for the manufacture of
blank paper for the diary. The Blue Book was
his personal property; but before commencing






THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS.'


its destruction he counseled with Bromley, who,
as a man of letters, he felt under the circum-
stances, had an equal interest with himself in
the fate of one half of their common library.
Bromley, seated on the bank alongside the
leach, was engaged at the time in making a birch
broom, and as he threw down the bunch of
twigs a shade of disappointment overspread his
handsome face. He said that he had never
thoroughly appreciated the work of the learned
board of compilers until his present exile, and
that it contained flights of eloquence and scraps
of poetry if you read between the lines.
But, putting all joking aside," said Bromley,
"begin with a single leaf by way of experiment,
and let us see first what will be the effect on
the fiber of the paper; and then, if everything
works well, we will first sacrifice the index
and the extracts from the Acts of that rene-
gade Congress whose imbecility has blotted a
great nation from the map of the world."
Lieutenant Coleman had more confidence in
the result of the experiment they were about to
make than had Bromley, for the increased
length of his entry in the diary shows that he
was no longer economizing paper:

April26, 1865. Wednesday. We have cut out ten leaves
of the index of the Blue Book, which we scattered loosely
on the surface of the lye in the cavity of the rock. After
twenty minutes I removed a leaf which had undergone
no perceptible change in appearance, and washed it
thoroughly in running water. While so doing I was
pleased to find that with the lightest touch of my fingers
the ink dissolved, leaving underneath only a faint trace
of the letters, which would in no way interfere with my
writing. It required much patience to cleanse the paper
of the slimy deposit of potash.
Thursday, April 27, 1865. Of the leaves prepared
yesterday, two, which were less carefully washed than
the others, are somewhat yellowed by the potash and
show signs of brittleness.
April 30. We have continued our paper-making ex-
periments, and find that a longer bath in a weaker solu-
tion of lye has the same effect on the ink, and is less
injurious to the fiber of the paper. Philip has burnt a
lot of holes in one of the cracker-boxes, in which we
place the leaves, leaving them to soak in the running
water.

Thus it turned out that the dangerous enve-
lope by a freak of the sportive wind was made
to play an important part in the economy of
the exiles, while the cask of gold stood neg-


elected in the corner, and the summer of 1865
began with no lack of paper on which to re-
cord its events. Both Philip and the bear
had been in temporary disgrace, the one for
losing the tell-tale envelope, and the other for
disturbing the sacred quiet of a grave. Both
cases of misbehavior had resulted in impor-
tant discoveries, but the mishap of Philip had
produced such superior benefits that the bear
was fairly distanced in the race. This may
have been the reason that prompted Tumbler
to try his hand, or rather his paw, again, for
he was a much cleverer bear than you would
think to look at his small eyes and flat skull.
At any rate, one hot morning in July, he put
his foot in it once more and very handsomely,
too, for the benefit of his masters.
It was Philip who caught the first view of
him well up on the trunk of the tallest chestnut
on the plateau, which, growing in a sheltered
place under the northwest hill, had not been
dwarfed and twisted by the winds like its fel-
lows higher up. At the moment he was discov-
ered, he was licking his paw in the most peace-
ful and contented way, while the air about his
head was thick with a small cloud of angry
bees, darting furiously among the limbs and
thrusting their hot stings into his shaggy coat,
seeming to disturb him no more than one
small gnat can disturb an ox. The soldiers
had been deprived of sweets since the last of
the sugar had been used, in the early winter,
and a supply of honey would just fit the crav-
ings of their educated taste. Share and share
alike, bear and man, was the unwritten law of
Sherman Territory, and so while Philip shouted
for the ax, he began to throw clubs at Tumbler,
which were so much larger and more persua-
sive than the stings of the bees that the bear
began promptly to back his way down the trunk
of the tree.
Coleman and Bromley appeared in a jiffy,
casting off their jackets and rolling up their
sleeves as they came. When the chips began
to fly, Tumbler sat down to watch, evidently
feeling that some superior intelligence was at
work for his benefit, while the stupid bees kept
swarming about the hole above, except a few
stray ones who had not yet got tired of burrow-
ing into the shaggy coat of the bear, and these


572


(MAY,







M897.] THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS. 573
now turned their attention to the men and were tree. Then, too, if they had been in less of a
promptly knocked down by wisps of grass in hurry they might have waited until a frosty
the hands of Coleman and Philip, while Brom- morning in November had benumbed the bees,
ley plied the ax. If only they had had a sup- but in that case Tumbler would have eaten all
ply of sulphur, by waiting until the bees were the honey he could reach with his paws.
As it was, the swarm
S extended so low that as
H ,i .soon as the ax opened
the first view into the
hollow trunk, the bees
began to appear, and
the opening had to be
t stuffed with grass, and
a bucket of water which
SPhilip brought did not
come amiss before the
Shopping was done.
S All this time Tumb-
S-- ler licked his jaws, and
kept his beady eyes
fixed on the top of the
tree, like a good coon
aI dog, and never stirred
7K his stumps until, with
the last blow of the ax,
.- the old tree creaked,
and swayed at the top,
and fell with a great
crash down the hill.
The three soldiers ran
,ff to a safe distance as soon
Stihe tree began to fall, while
Pf : l..-. after regarding their flight
.-.. of disgust, walked deliber-
,. iir.], i Is.- !:k of the battle, and began
"/ 1 .. I. ...h pping comb as coolly as a
pi The brittle trunk of the old
I : r as it fell, and for twenty
,. i I.- the mass of yellow honey
i-, r.:. Qhe gaze of the men, while
Ik iu rl. 1 .I :es darkened the air above
.r ,,: ,,I i.n I.. i misty halo about the head
.. ~< S..- of the happy bear.
So busy was he with the luscious honey-
combs that one might have supposed he
"NOW AND THEN TUMBLER WOULD ROLL ABOUT AND CLAW did not feel the sharp stings of the angry
VIGOROUSLY AT THE SIDES OF HIS HEAD. not the stings of te angry
little bees, except that now and then he
settled at night, they could have burned some would roll about and claw vigorously at the
in the opening made by the ax, and with the sides of his head.
noxious fumes destroyed the last bee in the The happiness of Tumbler was not alto-






THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS.


gether uninterrupted, for the soldiers drove
him off now and again with sticks and stones;
but however far he retired from the tree, he
was surrounded and defended by such an
army of bees that it was quite out of the ques-
tion to capture him. There was no end of
the honey; but the worst of it was, the bear was
eating the whitest and newest of the combs, and
when at last his greedy appetite was satisfied,
and he came of his own accord to the house,
he brought such disagreeable company with him
that the soldiers got out through the door and
windows as best they could, leaving him in un-
disputed possession -very much as his lamen-
ted mother had held the fort on that night when
her little cub, Tumbler, had slept in the ashes
the year before.
There was nothing else to be done but to
walk about for the rest of the day; for until
nightfall there was a line of bees from the
house to the tree. The soldiers secured the bear
by closing the door and windows; but it was
not yet clear how they could obtain the honey.
Coleman and Bromley were city-bred, but
Philip had been brought up in the country, and
he had received some other things from his
uncle besides kicks and cuffs and a knowledge
of how to run a mill. He remembered the
row of hives under the cherry-trees beyond the
race, and how the new swarms had come out,
and been sawed off with the limbs in great
bunches, or called out of the air by drumming
on tin pans, and how at last they had been
enticed into a hive sprinkled inside with sweet-
ened water.
So, under Philip's directions, a section of a
hollow log was prepared, covered at the top
and notched at the bottom, and pierced with
cross sticks to support the comb. As a tem-
porary bench for it to rest upon, they blocked
up against the back wall of the house the oak
slab, which they no longer respected as a
gravestone.
After it became quite dark, the bees had so
far settled that a few broken pieces of honey-
comb, which had been tossed off into the grass
from the falling tree were secured to sweeten
the new hive, and it was finally propped up on
the rubber poncho in front of the thickest
bunch of bees. Tumbler was kept a close pris-


oner in the house, and early the next morning
the bees began crowding after their queen into
their new house, and by the afternoon they
were carrying in the honey and wax on their
legs. So it was the second night after cutting
the bee-tree before the soldiers removed the
hive, wrapped about with a blanket, to the
bench behind the house, and got access to
the honey in the broken log. There was so
much of it that after filling every dish they
could spare, they were forced to empty the
gold on to the earthen floor, and fill the cask
with some of the finest of the combs.
What remained was given up to the bear and
the bees, who got on more pleasantly together
than you can think; and in time these lovers
of sweets cleaned out the old log and left it as
clean as if it had been sandpapered.
During the remainder of the summer, the
gold lay neglected in the corner together with
certain wilted potatoes and fat pine-knots and
the sweepings of the floor. If a shining coin
turned up now and then in some unexpected
place, it doubtless served to remind Coleman
how handy these small tokens of exchange
might be if there were any other person in all
their world of whom they could buy an iron pot
or an onion; or it may have suggested to the
clever brain of Bromley some scheme of utiliz-
ing the pile as raw material. Worthless as the
gold was in its present form, in the hands of
the soldiers so fertile of resource and so clever
in devices to accomplish their ends, it was not
possible for so much good metal to remain al-
together useless. They soon saw that if they
had the appliances of a forge, they could tip
their wooden spades with the silver or the gold,
and make many dishes and household goods.
So after the harvest they set to work in good
earnest to build a smithy, and equip it in all
respects as well as their ingenuity and limited
resources would permit.
The first thing they did was to dig a charcoal
pit, into which they piled several cords of dry
chestnut wood, setting the sticks on end in a
conical heap. Over this they placed a layer of
turf and a thick outer covering of earth, leaving
an opening at the top. Several holes for air
were pierced about the base of the heap, and
then some fat pine-knots which had been laid


[MAY,






THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS.


and he tried several times to dig into the
smouldering mass, with results more amusing
to the soldiers and less satisfactory to himself
than those of any digging he had ever tried
before.
When the smoke ceased to come out of
9 these holes at the sides, they were closed up

Sthe process was complete.
a. I- r While this slow combustion was going on, a
pen was built about the fireplace of the old hut
Sand filled in with earth to a convenient height
: ifor the forge. The flue was narrowed down to
a small opening for the proper draft, and a prac-
tical pumping-bellows, made of two pointed
Y slabs of wood and the last rubber blanket, was
hung in place. Besides nailing, the edges were
"I made air-tight with a mixture of pitch and tarry
-- 'S -- sediment from the bottom of the charcoal pit,
and the first nozzle of the bellows was a stick
of elder, which was very soon replaced by a
neat casting of gold.
SBromley was the smith, and his first pincers
were rather weak contrivances of platted wire,
Sbut after half the barrel of one of the carbines
had with the head of the hatchet been ham-
Smered out on a smooth stone into a steel plate
to cover their small anvil block, it was possible
to make of the iron that remained a few ser-
viceable tools.
While they still had good reason to be sorry
that the mass of gold was not iron, they were
A 0 still thankful for their providential supply of the
,-iNS' softer metal, and Bromley toiled and smelted
and hammered and welded and riveted, in the
smoke of the forge and the steam of the water
MAKING A HUNDRED-DOLLAR CASTER. vat, and turned out little golden appliances
in about the upper opening, or chimney, were that would have made a barbaric king or a
set on fire. These burned briskly at first, and modem goldsmith green with envy. So it
then died down to a wreath of smoke, which came about that, poor as they were, the three
was left to sweat the wood for three days, after exiled soldiers, without friends or country they
which the holes at the base were stopped and could call their own, sat on three-legged stools
others made half-way up the pile. Late in shod with hundred-dollar casters and drank
November the dry warm earth about the spring water from massy golden cups fit for the
charcoal pit was a favorite resort of Tumbler, dainty lips of a princess.
(To be continued.)


MsAU.l































. :' .,
'


A MAY MORNING.

THE MEADOW-RUE AND THE BOBOLINKS.
576








THE COOKY-NUT TREES.
(A Tale of the Pilliwinks.)

BY ALBERT BIGELOW PAINE.

OH, the Pilliwinks lived by the portals of Loo,
In the land of the Pullicum-wees,
Where gingerbread soldiers and elephants grew
On the top of the cooky-nut trees.
And the Pilliwinks gazed at them, wondering how
They could get at those goodies so brown;
But the ginger-men danced on the cooky-nut bough,
And the elephants would n't come down.

But along came a witch of the Pullicum-wees-
To the 'winks she was friendly, I guess-
For they said: "At the top of those cooky-nut-trees
Are some treasures we 'd like to possess."
And she quickly replied, "I can show you the way
To obtain all the gingerbread men,
,And the elephants, too; and this verse you may say,
And repeat it again and again.

"Pillicum, willicum, pullicum-wee,
Winkety, wankety, up in a tree;
Wankety, winkety, tippety top-
Down come the cooky-nuts, hippety hop!"

Then all of the Pilliwinks stood in a row,
And repeated this beautiful song,
Till the elephants eagerly hastened below,
And the soldiers marched down in a throng.
And for many long years by the portals of Loo
The Pilliwink people you'd see
Enticing the gingerbread goodies that grew
At the top of the cooky-nut tree.


FROM THE MONKEY'S POINT

By W. C. McCLELLAND.

THE ostrich has wings, but he cannot fly; That the goat
The horse has only one toe; blow
Have you noticed the size of the elephant's And a beard
eyes ?
Or the pitch of the rooster's crow? I think this is


'The fox has a brush, but he does not paint.
And I think it a capital joke
VOL. XXIV.-73.


OF VIEW.



has horns which he cannot

that he cannot stroke.

quite the funniest world
i*.- h ^. ld


.nat cever a lglL louL s U e,
But the most ridiculous things of all
Are the people who laugh at me!








THE COOKY-NUT TREES.
(A Tale of the Pilliwinks.)

BY ALBERT BIGELOW PAINE.

OH, the Pilliwinks lived by the portals of Loo,
In the land of the Pullicum-wees,
Where gingerbread soldiers and elephants grew
On the top of the cooky-nut trees.
And the Pilliwinks gazed at them, wondering how
They could get at those goodies so brown;
But the ginger-men danced on the cooky-nut bough,
And the elephants would n't come down.

But along came a witch of the Pullicum-wees-
To the 'winks she was friendly, I guess-
For they said: "At the top of those cooky-nut-trees
Are some treasures we 'd like to possess."
And she quickly replied, "I can show you the way
To obtain all the gingerbread men,
,And the elephants, too; and this verse you may say,
And repeat it again and again.

"Pillicum, willicum, pullicum-wee,
Winkety, wankety, up in a tree;
Wankety, winkety, tippety top-
Down come the cooky-nuts, hippety hop!"

Then all of the Pilliwinks stood in a row,
And repeated this beautiful song,
Till the elephants eagerly hastened below,
And the soldiers marched down in a throng.
And for many long years by the portals of Loo
The Pilliwink people you'd see
Enticing the gingerbread goodies that grew
At the top of the cooky-nut tree.


FROM THE MONKEY'S POINT

By W. C. McCLELLAND.

THE ostrich has wings, but he cannot fly; That the goat
The horse has only one toe; blow
Have you noticed the size of the elephant's And a beard
eyes ?
Or the pitch of the rooster's crow? I think this is


'The fox has a brush, but he does not paint.
And I think it a capital joke
VOL. XXIV.-73.


OF VIEW.



has horns which he cannot

that he cannot stroke.

quite the funniest world
i*.- h ^. ld


.nat cever a lglL louL s U e,
But the most ridiculous things of all
Are the people who laugh at me!

























BY MARY SHEARS ROBERTS.


VI. CASAN.

CASAN was the name of a little Mongol Tar-
tar who flourished in the early part of the thir-
teenth century.
He was born in the eastern part of Asia, not
far from the ancient city of Karakorum. His
parents belonged to one of the barbarian hordes
that owed allegiance to Genghis Khan, and
Casan became a fierce though small warrior,
and fought bravely under the banner of the
great and mighty Mongol conqueror.
The exact height of this little dwarf is un-
known. He was certainly not over three feet
tall; but he was active and muscular, and, like
all his race, could endure hunger, thirst, fatigue,
and cold.
The Tartars were unexcelled in the manage-
ment of their beautiful horses. The fleetest ani-
mals were trained to stop short in full career,
and to face without flinching wild beast or for-
midable foe. Casan was a born soldier, and at
an early age became expert in all the exercises
that belonged to a Tartar education. He could
manage a fiery courser with great skill, and
could shoot an arrow or throw a lance with
unerring aim, in full career, advancing or re-
treating.
Like many of those small in stature, he was
anything but puny in spirit, and while yet a lad
he gathered about him a troop of wild young


Tartar boys as reckless and daring as himself,
of whom by common consent he became
leader. He commanded his lawless young
comrades with a strange mixture of dignity and
energy, and they obeyed his orders with zeal and
willingness. Sometimes they would go on long
hunting expeditions, seldom failing to lay waste
any lonely habitation they happened on. Dur-
ing- one of these excursions they came to a wide
river, and Casan ordered his troop to halt and
build a wherry. They immediately set out in
search of materials, and after a time succeeded
in constructing a sort of raft made after the
fashion of their ancestors the ancient Scythians.
They collected a number of the skins of wild
animals, fastened these firmly together, and
stretched them over a wooden framework.
Upon this leather boat they placed their sad-
dles and weapons, and after driving their
horses into the stream, the young warriors
sprang upon the oddly contrived float, seized
the steeds by their tails, and were soon drawn
by the swimming horses to the opposite bank.
This feat was accomplished amid the noisiest
shouts of the exulting boys.
Only Casan remained unmoved, simply re-
marking: Very well done. I am quite satis-
fied with you, and to-morrow I shall think of
something else to teach you."
He lay awake half the night devising plans
and projects for the next day, and at early





CAS


dawn he assembled his followers and com-
manded them to be at a certain place at a cer-
tain hour. Like the noble Six Hundred, they
seem not to have reasoned why, but to have
done as they were bidden, and they met at the
appointed time.
When they came together they found them-
selves on a greensward where a drove of mag-
nificent horses, owned by one Tin Kin, was
quietly pasturing. Casan curtly ordered each
to mount a courser as quickly as possible, and
to gain a neighboring plain at all speed.
The tiny dwarf set the example. Springing
from the ground with great agility, he grasped
a startled steed by its mane, and by a skilful
maneuver was on its back in an instant. His
comrades followed suit; the fleet-footed ani-
mals charged ahead, and soon all the Tartar
boys were drawn up before their small leader.
Here Casan, without saddle or bridle, put them
through all the military exercises he could think
of. If we should ever be called upon to go
to war," he remarked, "we should be found
soldiers already trained for battle. A true war-
rior should manage his courser by word or
touch, or even a glance."
SNow, according to the Tartar code, the theft
of a horse was punishable by death. Tin Kin,
the owner of the herd, soon discovered that
some of his choicest animals were missing,
and off he started in hot pursuit, vowing ven-
geance on the miscreants. He soon came in
sight of the evil-doers, but his rage gave place
to astonishment when he found his superb
steeds mounted by half-grown children who
were going through various exercises, under
the command of a dwarf. Before he had time
to speak, Casan came charging to him, saying:
"We have not stolen your horses, .as you
may think. These are my soldiers. I wished to
teach them to ride well, and in order to do so,
I borrowed some.of your coursers. You, who
know their value best, can surely find nothing
wrong in our actions; on the contrary, you
should be pleased to have your animals appre-
ciated, and I can assure you we have found
them worthy the highest praise."
SThe owner was so taken aback at the dwarf's
harangue that for a moment he stood speech-
less. He soon, however, regained possession


,AN. 579

of his wits, and exclaimed: "You appear to be
a queer character. Come to me with your
comrades, and we will talk the matter over
together."
The little cavaliers with one accord accepted
the invitation, rode back to the tent of Tin Kin,
breakfasted with him, and the result of it all
was that a firm friendship was established be-
tween the Tartar horse-merchant and the reck-
less little dwarf and his followers.
For many years previous to this time, Gen-
ghis Khan, whose real name was Temuchin,
had been having a great deal of trouble with
the thirteen Mongol tribes that owed obedience
to his father Yesukai. Yesukai died in I175,
when Temuchin was thirteen years old, and
while Richard Cceur de Lion and Philip Au-
gustus of France were quarreling with each
other during their crusade to the Holy Land,
Temuchin was engaged in constant warfare
with one or another of the disobedient Mongol
hordes.
At last, in 1206, his power seemed to be
firmly established, and he concluded that the
time had come for him to proclaim himself em-
peror. He accordingly called all the khans of
his empire to meet at Karakorum, his capital,
to do him homage. Casan was greatly excited
when he heard the news, and he resolved to
witness the coronation, and, if possible, to pre-
sent himself to his emperor and to join his
imperial army.
The small dwarf, by the help of his mother,
managed to fit himself out in Tartar costume
suitable to the occasion, and then he went to
Tin Kin, told him his project, and asked the
loan of one of his horses. Tin Kin was de-
lighted, praised his little friend, and not only
gave him one of his most beautiful coursers,
but also presented him with an attendant to
act as a sort of esquire or armor-bearer. Ka-
rakorum was soon reached. The different
khans met on the appointed day. They were
all clothed in white; and Temuchin, with a
shining diadem upon his brow, advanced and
seated himself on a throne erected for him.
First he received congratulations from all the
princes, then he stepped down and made a long
speech, which I suppose must have been very
eloquent, and after this he seated himself upon







a small black rug that was spread for him. For
a long time this piece of carpet was revered
and preserved as a sacred relic. No fewer than
seven khans assisted him to rise, and con-
ducted him back to the throne. Here, after a
great deal of talk and mummery, he was finally
proclaimed Lord of the Mongol Empire, and
requested to adopt the name and title Genghis
Khan, which, though spelled in at least seven
different ways, yet has only one meaning-
"Perfect Warrior."
The Tartar and Mongol chiefs and warriors
now swarmed about him, all vying with one
another to gain his attention. Casan began
to think it was his time; and, no doubt saying
to himself in Tartar dialect something that
meant "Now or never!" he mounted his impa-
tient horse, burst through the crowd, and rode
straight up to Genghis Khan.
", Prince of the great empire," said he, "they
tell me you are going to undertake a war against
China which will make your glory eternal.
Happy will be the captains who fight by your
side and obey your orders. True, I am a
dwarf, not favored by nature; but"-here he
struck his breast with his tiny fist-" I feel
within me a martial spirit equal to that of your
greatest general. I already have command of
a troop of young warriors all eager for battle.
Try me, great Emperor. Permit me to join
the army, and my actions shall prove the truth
of my words."
Genghis Khan was now a man forty years
-old. He was stern and dignified, but a good
judge of character; and the self-possession of
the dwarf both pleased and amused him. He
liked the confidence Casan appeared to have
in himself, and he replied: "Well done, my
fine little fellow. I accept your offer in the
spirit in which it is made. When we set out
on our journey to the Chinese Empire you
shall join the army, and you shall have a cap-
tainship."
These words, falling from the lips of the Em-
peror, produced an effect upon Casan that it is
difficult to describe. His little Mongol features
became animated, his black eyes sparkled be-
neath their long lashes, and his small frame
quivered with excitement. The bystanders at
the court were filled with astonishment, and


his parents were thunderstruck when they hear
the news.
Now it so happened that Genghis, in ordei
to subdue the deserters from his father's tribes.
had dethroned several princes or khans. These
petty chiefs had been in the habit of paying
tribute to the great sovereign of the Kin Em.
pire in North China. This high and mighty
potentate now demanded money from Genghis
Khan, thereby rousing the ire of our Mongo.
lian warrior, who announced that rather thar.
pay one cent for tribute he would fight the
whole Chinese kingdom. Preparations for wal
were at once begin, and Casan was de-
lighted when he received orders to join the
army. At last his dream was realized. He
was going to fight real battles, and he was in
command of a body of troops. He bade adieu
to his family, and with a proud heart set out
to meet his sovereign.
As a first step, Genghis Khan invaded West-
ern Hea, captured several strongholds, and re-
tired in the summer to a place called Lung
Ting, in order to escape the great heat of the
plains or steppes. While there, news reached
him that several other khans were preparing
for war. He thereupon descended from the
heights, .marched against his foes, and in a
pitched battle on the river Irtish he overthrew
them completely. Casan attracted a great deal
of notice on this occasion. He was here, there,
and everywhere. On his mettlesome charger
he bounded into the thickest of the fight, hurl-
ing his lance with unerring aim, and displaying
great courage.
After the fray he was summoned to appear
before the conqueror, who complimented the
dwarf, saying: Thy valor and thy courage
have completely justified thy promises. From
this day forth thou shalt be a khan; thou shalt
have command of a large body of troops, and
shalt hereafter be my companion in arms."
Casan was so delighted that he could scarcely
contain his small self, and he longed for an-
other battle. He had not long to wait. From
the very earliest period of history the Chinese
had found their warlike neighbors very trou-
blesome. The Tartars had made so many
raids into the Celestial Empire that they were
greatly dreaded; and to prevent .their at-


580


CASAN.






t897.] CASAN. 5 I

tacks, the Chinese had made on their northern ciplined armies into Western Hea, defeated the
frontier the Great Wall of China. Built about Kin army, and at last reached the Great Wall.
two hundred years before the Christian era, The small figure of the dwarf was conspicu-
its entire length was about fifteen hundred ous at the assault. Fierce as a lion, he man-
miles. It was carried over the ridges of the aged to be one of the first upon the ramparts.
highest hills and into the depths of the deep- Brandishing his sword, he shouted orders to his
men in a voice as
deep and loud as any
of the officers'. The
S- fortification at last
-- gave way, the im-
mense army pushed
through, and Genghis
"- Khan, with Casan by
-. -- --. his side, had captured
--7.. theWu-leang-hai pass,

Great Wall. This
i was one of the great-
I: 1':- i est achievements in
., the life of the mighty
S'. conqueror.
~ --- Once established
Inside the Great Wall,
the Tartar chief de-
f l. spatched three armies
1W b to overrun the Em-
fet pire. Three of his
sni, o P sons commanded the
0 right wing, his broth-
:ic; p'. t ers led the left, while
Genghis Khan, with
a fourth son, and ac-
-.- -, companies by Ca-
san, directed the.cen-
ter column toward
S, the southeast. As the
y I- ft- t T C troops marched on,
endo pier o k. At p1 o v -- vd cities and royal resi-
s an.: th fr o s o -d b dences- fell into their
crtn. h mr.d ye.:n s .t n--- o l--- hands, and so they
[. Ii.h m,- .. P.r= l.:rt .. L am assed great spoils.
the base, while the wail Lself was At last, in the year
twenty-five feet thick. This stu- "CASAN RODE STRAIGHT UP TO 1214, Genghis halted
pendous piece of work had proved GENGHIS KHAN." in his triumphal career
a safe barrier against the foes of China for before the city of Yenking, or Peking as it
fourteen hundred years. is now called. The members of the court
After the battle of the Irtish, victory after here were greatly astonished and somewhat
victory perched upon the banners of the Mon- frightened when an envoy from their former
gol conqueror. Again he poured his well dis- vassal Temuchin demanded from them the





CASAN.


tribute and obedience his father had formerly
paid to them; and it is said that Casan, im-
patient to see the interior of the city, managed
to make his way inside the gates along with
the Emperor's messenger. At first the dwarf
escaped notice, being taken for a child; but
by an accident his identity was discovered, and
he was carried before some mandarin judges
and requested to explain his presence at the
court of Pekin. While the envoy was sent
back to deliver a haughty answer to Genghis,
Casan was held as a prisoner.
He was not badly treated, his table being
well supplied with Chinese viands; but he be-
came an object of great curiosity, and crowds
came to see him. Among his numerous visi-
tors was the daughter of one of the chief man-
darins. Her name, according to an old French
chronicle, was Tjiou-Tjeun Bendzingine; and
from her Casan found out that the whole court
as well as the Chinese Emperor himself were
in terror of the Tartar troops.
Casan was most anxious to escape and to
carry to Genghis Khan the news of the dismay
among the mandarins. He set his small wits-
to work on a plan of escape, and finally pre-
vailed upon the princess with that long name
to procure for him some opium and a Chi-
nese costume suited to his small figure. By
hook or by crook the fair Tjiou-Tjeun brought
the needful articles, and that night little Casan
presented his jailers with so much opium that
they speedily fell asleep, and he, donning the na-
tional costume, made his way out of his prison.
Casan finally succeeded in escaping from the
city, but he was exhausted when he presented
himself before his sovereign. Casan accounted
for his absence, told his chief all he had learned
at the Peking court, and was praised for his
courage and diplomacy.
Genghis now sent another message to the
Kin Emperor saying: "By the decree of Heaven
you are now as weak as I am strong, but I am
willing to retire from my conquests. As a con-
ditiop of my doing so, it will be necessary that
you distribute largess to my officers and men
to appease their fierce hostility."
The Kin Emperor eagerly accepted the terms
of safety, and sent Genghis many prisoners and
a tribute of gold and silk and other treasures.


As soon, however, as Genghis had passed be-
yond the Great Wall, the Chinese Emperor
changed his residence and moved his court
farther from the Mongol frontier. Genghis
thought this meant a renewing of hostilities,
so he turned himself and his army about, and
did not stop till he had conquered and laid
waste the whole empire.
It would take a long time to tell of all the
wars of this great conqueror one of the great-
est the world has ever seen. Wherever he went
and wherever he fought, the faithful little dwarf
was at his side. Genghis carried on his victo-
rious battles toward the west until he reached
the territories of the mighty Sultan of Khua-
rezm. Here he halted, having no immediate
desire to go beyond these limits. He sent en-
voys with presents and a peaceful message to
Muhammad, the Shah, and but for an unfortu-
nate occurrence the Mongol armies would prob-
ably never have entered Europe.
Soon after the interchange of civilities be-
tween the two sovereigns, some of the Sultan's
subjects plundered a caravan of Tartar mer-
chants, and Genghis demanded satisfaction for
the outrage. Instead of giving up the chief
offender, as Genghis required, the Shah be-
headed the Mongol envoy and sent back his
attendants without their beards. This was an
insult that must be avenged, and soon the two
empires began great preparations for war.
The Sultan was master of many countries,
among which were Persia and much of India.
He collected an enormous army, but in case of
failure he had no other recruits to fall back
upon. Genghis, with his overpowering troops,
rushed on all parts of Khuarezm at once. They
swept from city to city, leaving nothing behind
them but ashes and ruins. The Sultan's armies
were almost always defeated. Muhammad,
driven from one extremity to another, escaped
to an island in the Caspian Sea, where he died
in sickness and despair, leaving what remained
of his empire to his son Jalaluddin. Jalaluddin
was brave and courageous, and did all that
man could do to avenge his father's death and
to prop up his tottering throne. Hemmed in
by the loss of city after city, he was at last
driven to the banks of the Indus. Here was
fought a desperate battle. The Tartars, led


582


[MAY,







by Genghis Khan in person (whom little Casan
always followed), far outnumbered the Turks.
The mighty army of the Sultan had been re-
duced to a few hundred men, who fought with
undaunted courage till forced to flee.
Jalaluddin, knowing that all was lost, stripped
himself of his armor, threw away all his arms
save his bow, quiver, and sword, and mounting
a fresh horse, plunged into the river twenty feet
below. With admiring gaze Genghis and Ca-
san stood watching the fearless horseman.
In the middle of the stream he turned and
emptied his quiver in defiance of his enemy,
and soon after was seen-to mount the opposite
bank. He passed the night in a tree to keep
clear of the wild beasts. Genghis sent men to
pursue him, but he escaped to Delhi. He man-
aged to recruit a few soldiers from the beaten
Turks, but his spirit was broken. He could
not endure exile, and after many misfortunes he
returned to his own country and died in obscu-
rity. More than six centuries have passed
away, and still the ravages of the great Khua-
rezm war have not been entirely repaired.
After the great Mongolian had conquered
China, Persia, and all Central Asia his empire
became one of the most formidable ever estab-
lished. It extended from the Pacific Ocean on
the east to the river Dnieper in European Rus-
sia, and was a wider realm than Egyptian,
Greek, or Roman conqueror ever knew. The
kings of Armenia and Georgia, the emirs of
Persia, the grand-dukes of Russia, and numer-
ous other potentates were compelled to pay
tribute to Genghis Khan, and they were all
obliged to make the long journey to Karakorum
in person or by their representatives.
This town, the capital of-the largest empire
that ever existed, was little more than a city of
tents. It afterward became the residence of the
famous Kublai Khan, as Marco Polo tells us,
but every vestige of it has disappeared.
Genghis Khan at last retired from active
service to lead a quiet life in the enjoyment of
the wealth he had acquired at the expense of
so much toil and blood. The numerous khans
and generals were commanded to return; and
they came back encumbered with the spoils of
war. They all assembled on a vast plain some


twenty miles in extent, and, according to one
historian, even this great field could scarcely
contain all the tents of the countless hosts.
The Emperor's quarters alone were six miles
around. An enormous white tent capable of
containing two thousand people was spread
over his throne, on which was carefully placed
the bit of black carpet used at his coronation.
During the ceremonies Casan was placed, by
the side of one of the sons of Genghis Khan;
and when the time came for his children and
grandchildren to kiss the monarch's hand, the
dwarf was permitted the same privilege. Gen-
ghis accepted the presents bestowed upon him;
ahd he who had spent his life despoiling others
now gave rich gifts to his soldiers.
The little dwarf looked on with delight when
five hundred captives from conquered countries
came to make their obeisance before the con-
quering hero. His heart beat with pride, a
martial spirit fired his small body, and, like
Alexander, he longed for more worlds to con-
quer. This whole ceremonial concluded with
a grand festival which lasted several days.
But all things have an end, and so had the life
of the Mongolian chieftain. In the year 1227
he was seized with a fatal illness, and died in his
traveling-palace on the bank of the river Sale
in Mongolia. His death-bed was surrounded
by his sons, and Casan stood beside them.
Poor little Casan adored his master, and bit-
terly mourned his loss. His spirit sank and his
ambition vanished when the emperor breathed
his last. After one or two expeditions into Rus-
sia and Poland with the sons of Genghis Khan,
the tiny warrior returned to his native country,
and pitched his luxurious tent in Karakorum.
Here he was treated with great respect by
all the people. His abode was no ordinary af-
fair. It was made of thick Persian carpets, and
was placed on a gorgeous chariot drawn by
gaily decked oxen. As he moved from place
to place he received with dignity and modesty
the honors that were shown him.
A dwarf in size, a giant in spirit, Casan did
not long survive his beloved sovereign; and all
signs of his last resting-place, like all traces of
Genghis Khan's ancient capital, have long since
vanished from the face of the earth.


583


CASAN.














1*, S t lin %'Xian


THERE came a giant in '-
the Land,
And lo! he whistled merrily;
And all the folk joined hand in hand,
And laughed and danced full
cheerily.


They danced all day till clay was
gone-
And still the Giant whistled on.
And kings came down from lofty
thrones,
And wrapped their robes about
their bones,


I


And capered with benignity;
And doctors grave and judges grim,
They danced for joy of hearing him,
Unmindful of their dignity.
The baker danced as he baked his bread,
And the dominie danced when the lessons
were said.
The wagoner danced with his horses twain,
And the horses danced with the laden wain.
The little streams-that scarce have done-
They rippled and danced in the morning
sun.
And old folks say, who saw the sight,
The stars danced softly every night.


But whether they hid or whether they shone,
The whistling Giant whistled on.






THE WHISTLING GIANT.


He whistled so hard and he breathed so
deep
That the whistling Giant fell asleep.
And still on bright spring days, it seems,
The Giant whistles in his dreams;
Not as he whistled long ago,
But very soft and sweet and low;


And when you dance you know not why,
And can't help laughing though you try,
Or smiling, then be sure you may
The Giant is not far away.
And if aside all cares we lay,
I do believe- though I know not when-
The Giant will awake again.
Mae Elizabeth Haynes.


THE FAIRY SISTERS.


By HELEN STANDISH PERKINS.

THERE was once a little maiden,
And she had a mirror bright;
It was rimmed about with silver;
'T was her pride and her delight.
But she found two fairy sisters
Lived within this pretty glass,
And very different faces showed,
To greet the little lass.

If she was sweet and sunny,
Why, it was sure to be
The smiling sister who looked out
Her happy face to see.
But if everything went criss-cross,
And she wore a frown or pout,
Alas alas! within the glass
The frowning one looked out.

Now this little maiden loved so much
The smiling face to see,
That she resolved with all her heart
A happy child to be.
To grow more sweet and loving,
She tried with might and main,
Till the frowning sister went away,
And ne'er came back again.

But if she 's looking for a home,
As doubtless is the case,
She '11 try to find a little girl
Who has a gloomy face.
So be very, very careful,
If you own a mirror too,
That the frowning sister does n't come
And make her home with you.


VOL. XXIV.- 74.


585









I '


3}Ze- TI U~


-. .







I k 1 7 1-i,_ I ct n- I Iv. L ii t I I~~-~

liiii-,' o cr -i nd r ilic of- ri th






'.~~~~~~ r~ 1 L'n' b',. il r.n,'ir~I


KAITAE was just sixteen years old. It was
his birthday, and he rose bright and early, and
was abroad before any of his companions; for,
exhausted with the games and contests of the
previous day, they were sleeping heavily in the
curious caves or stone houses that even to this
day mark the location of Orongo.
Kaitae was a prince, the lineal descendant
of King Kaitae of Waihu, the strange volcanic
island in the South Pacific better known as
Easter Island.
The young prince, stepping lightly over two
sleeping comrades, stole out of the cave and
with a joyful heart bounded away. For some
distance he ran quickly, then, coming to a large
platform of stone, he stopped at last near a
group of curious objects.
The sun was just rising over the sea, seeming
to Kaitae to illumine the scene with a myste-
rious radiance. He stood upon the side of an
ancient volcano, the steep slope of which fell
precipitously a thousand feet to the sea; and
before him were many faces of gigantic size,
staring, gaunt, lifeless stone, their enormous
eyes turned to the north. The great heads
alone appeared, as if the bodies were em-


anu orunant, piercing eyes, ana ne presented a
strange contrast to the wonderful old face that
looked so steadfastly to the north. What was
it looking at ? what did it see ? he asked him-
self; and climbing up to the brink of Rana
Roraka, he gazed steadily to the north, then,
turning, peered down into the vast crater of
the volcano. The great abyss was nearly cir-
cular, a mile across, and its sides were deeply
jagged. On the sides, half-way down, were
other faces, lying in strange confusion, as if they
had been hurriedly left, or thrown down by
some convulsion of nature.
Kaitae had heard from his father that in an-
cient times Tro Kaiho, a son of King Mohuta
Ariiki, had made the first of these images.
Here they had been for ages, for all he knew,
marking the spot where the remains of his an-
cestors lay.
Kaitae, however, was not abroad so early in
the morning to study these strange monuments
of his ancestors. It was a famous holiday-
time,- the Festival of the Sea-birds' Eggs,-
and the entire male population of Waihu was
gathered at Orongo to celebrate it. The festival
was an ancient custom, and the stone houses
of Orongo had been built long in the past by
these people to shelter them during this season.


I





THE FESTIVAL OF EGGS.


The festival consisted of a race for the first and the one w
gull's egg deposited upon the islands of Mutu unbroken egg
Rankan and Mutu Nui, mere volcanic rocks the great spirit
which peered above the surface a few hundred The band o
yards from the rocky shore of the island of various expect
Orongo. The object was to reach the island in advance, ot
first, secure an egg, and bring it back in safety. to the front, re
The one who accomplished this was greeted Kaitae stoo
by the entire community as a hero; and, more ing, and deten
important yet, the return with the unbroken tion. He had
egg was supposed to bring with it the approval The cliff where
of the great spirit Meke Meke; and the fortu- cipitous, jagge
nate one was the recipient of many gifts from and breasting
his fellows throughout the ensuing year. numerous pat]
There was keen rivalry among the young Kaitae knew ti
men and boys; and Kaitae had determined take place to r
this year to be the first to discover gulls on the determined to
islands. Running down the slope of the vol- feat that had
cano, past the great stone images weighing king, his grand
many tons, he made his way quickly to an ob- formed it whem
servation tower, about thirty feet in height,
resting upon a platform of rock over the tomb. /
of his people. Here, in the season, the men
watched for turtles and signaled to their fellow -.
From the top of this lookout Kaitae gazed
over the blue water. There were the little
islands below him, and -yes, about them ho,-
ered numbers
of white objects, .i.',
the long-looked- i...
for gulls, which
evidently had W i g -'
arrived during
the night. With M' '
a joyous shout,
Kaitae sprang ..
down, and was
soon bounding .
over the rocks
to convey the -
news to the na- / / -^ i
tives. At once -
they all came KAITAE REVERENTLY TOUCHED ONE OF THE GREAT STONE
swarming out of FACES, BEING ABLE JUST TO REACH ITS HUGE LIPS."
their stone burrows like ants, and before long and shouts. 0
began to move in the direction of the coast. ofaboy, straig
When all had gathered at the cliff, the king flying in the wi
addressed them, repeating the time-honored to the narrow
rules for the race. directly to th
At his word they were to start for the island, train of dusk


ho returned to him first with an
would have the especial favor of
SMeke Meke.
f excited men and boys stood in
ant postures, some with one foot
hers with arms eagerly stretched
eady for the word from the king.
d near his father, his eyes flash-
mination expressed in every mo-
decided upon a dangerous course.
e the start was made was a pre-
d wall rising far above the sea,
it with a bold front. From it
hs led down to the water; and
hat many a fierce struggle would
each the water's edge. He had
take the cliff jump, a perilous
not been attempted since the
Father, a famous athlete, had per-
n a boy.


---. Finall), hen
.ll in line i ere in
readmces,, thi king gave
the signal, and on rushed the
crowd of islanders with loud cries
ut from among them shot the form
ht as an arrow, his long, black hair
nd. Not to the lower beach, not
trails made by his ancestors, but
e brink of the precipice. The
y figures paused breathless, and





THE FESTIVAL OF EGGS.


the king rushed forward to see Kaitae dive
out into space and gracefully disappear into the
depths below. Up he soon came, a black
spot on the waters, and before the astonished
natives could recover from their excitement he
was far on his way to the island.
Down the narrow trails worn in the lava
swept the crowd, pushing one another over in'
their rush to the shore, diving, leaping, and
hurling themselves into the sea in eager en-
deavor to reach the island. But Kaitae was
far in advance; and before the crowd of egg-
seekers were half-way over he had gained
the rocky point of Mutu Nui, and amid the
threatening cries of the birds had clambered up.
Dozens of speckled eggs were strewn about.
Seizing one, Kaitae placed it in his mouth as
the safest place, and, springing again into the
water, was homeward bound.
No one seemed discouraged because Kaitae
was ahead. A hundred accidents might yet
befall him. The current was strong against
the return; the egg might break -it generally


"KAITAE HELD OUT THE EGG, UNBROKEN, TO T7
did; he might slip on the rocks in the quick
ascent; he might be injured, even killed-such
things had been known. So the contestants
swam on, and soon scores of dark forms could
be seen crawling out from the water over the
moss-covered rocks, slipping, sliding, falling;
then darting this way and that in search of an
egg. Having found one, each plunged quickly


into the sea. Altogether it was a scene strange
and exciting, even to the king who had wit-
nessed every race for many years. Some of
the men broke their eggs and were obliged to
return, while others could not find any, and
were pecked at and buffeted by the enraged
birds that filled the air with their cries, and
swooped down to avenge this intrusion.
Kaitae reached the shore of Orongo well
ahead of all except one man who had won the
race more than once in former years a dar-
ing climber, a rapid and powerful swimmer.
But Kaitae drew himself up on the rocks care-
fully, that the egg might not be broken, then
sped away up the face of the cliff. For days
he had studied the steep ascent, and a score of
times had scaled its rough face, but never be-
fore with a large egg in his mouth. When
half-way up he was breathing hard. His
mouth became dry and parched, and the egg
seemed to be choking him. But still he held
on, climbing higher and higher, spurred on by
the shouts of his companions, who were now
landing in large numbers.
One more effort, and he
reached the top, and run-
ning forward, he held out
the egg, unbroken, to the
-_- --_- king. He was just in time,
for his nearest rival, breath-
-*-"_:-- less Tahana, came rushing
up the narrow trail, fol-
lowed, a few moments
S later, by a score of disap-
-:_-L.- pointed contestants.
As victor, Kaitae was
the center of interest for
the remainder of the day.
Many gifts and favors fell
to him, and he sat in the
seat of honor next to the
HE KING." king at the dance and the
merrymakings on that and succeeding nights.
Kaitae was much more intelligent than many
of his comrades, and while he joined in their
games and pastimes he as much enjoyed listen-
ing to his elders when they related stories of
the wonders of Waihu in the olden time. He
learned that in those days the island was in-
habited by many tribes of men, all under his


588


[MAY,





THE FESTIVAL OF EGGS.


ancestor the
king; and that
the curious
platforms and .
monuments ",, J
that have since .
made Easter
Island famous
over the en-
tire world were long
before erected by his
ancestors, just as in
our parks we se-
up statues to com-
memorate our own
distinguished men; arid
that the platforms were
tombs as much re-.ere' 1.\
the natives of the I~l.id .i \\estini re!
Abbey is revered b\ i..nriot'. Erghsirmenii.
During the boyh.:.l .:. Kai' l[e s.:cri
strange ships bearing w\liie mncn visited i[-e
island, and traded .* iih ihi-i l-inders. Eut
some difficulties c.c:rre:,-. '.in num.nLc -
of his people werr kill':'. .-irl on':ce :.
horde of native ercrnii'es camen ni ;adnlu.,
drove them to tl:eir lill le c>.\:e,. de-
stroyed their homes, andI kill-d Iindiiire,1. oft
the people. When K:;iit:e iind his t'ien.l.
came out from their lI'ing-p.lac. ti-e
found the statues !i rni.iiy ai-:e thlirt ri .
down or broken in pi-c.-e, andl the tr:nl.l .
destroyed. The head; :'t rl-r: im,: _-e wei.-i gh
tons, and many could niit1 Lbc reliIa. J ; ai.:l :1
there they lie, to thi- -l'. i'r.-'ne ip'':,n li'e
side of the great vil:',: /.
A descendant of 1K in Karalc. i .:, l- ..Ie.iing
his name, is, or was i tVa *,,ears ig.. -rill li nii..
at Easter Island-an old i n.ii. '., .:r .ilNir\ .: ,is
of age, who delighted iri talking I.. f. rei;-nel ., I
the wonders of his rinu e i\\.,lih. in jri:i.r[ J.,.
A few years ago an Aineric::ii ni .n-':'f-iar '.-iteJ
W aihu, and made a c::refolt c :minari,.,r. .-.f t. I]in.:l.
Among the many int.:r.riesti Ic L.r.:h ouitt.: tl t:
United States was :'re ,:If ire i n:i.n ,:nr f':i.:, ,.r hlc'a':I
by one of which Kar.i ;r,.:d :n t:r e ni,:inriing .-.f n11
sixteenth birthday when he won the race; and readers
of ST. NICHOLAS who visit Washington may see this great
stone image, for it is exhibited in the National Museum.


589































ai










-t ,
.1~'aS '11.


KAITAE S DIVE.










THE RHYME OF TRIANGULAR TOMMY.


BY CAROLYN WELLS.


TRIANGULAR TOMMY, one morn-
ing in May,
Went out for a walk on the
public highway.
Just here I will say
'T was a bright sunny day,
And the sky it was blue, and
the grass it was green,
The same sky aind grass that
you've all of you seen;
And:'the birds in the trees sang
their usual song,
And Triangular Tommy went trudging along.

But I can tell you
He cared naught for the view.
He did just what small boys of his age al-
ways do:
He shouted out "Scat! "
At a wandering cat,
And he picked a big daisy to stick in his
hat;
The clovers he topped,
And the toadstools he cropped,
And sometimes he scuffled and sometimes
he hopped.

He took an old stick and poked at a worm,
And merrily chuckled to see the thing
squirm;
When he chanced to look up,
and in gorgeous array
Triangular Tilly
Swas coming
*his way.
Triangular Tom
straightened
r up in a jiff,


And put on his best
manner-exceed-
ingly stiff;
And as far as his an-
gular shape would
allow
Triangular Tom made
a beautiful bow.




Triangular Tilly went smil-
ingly by,
With a glance that was
friendly, but just a bit
shy.
And Tom so admired her
that after she passed,
A backward look over his
shoulder he cast.
And he said, "Though I
think many girls are
but silly,
I really admire that Triangular Tilly."

But soon all such thoughts were put out
of his head, .
For who should come by but Triangular
Ted,
The very boy Tom had
been wishing to see!
" Hello!" said Triangular
Tommy, said he.
" Hello! said Triangular
Ted, and away
Those two children scoot-
ed to frolic and play.
And they had, on
the green,
Where 't was all
dry and clean,






THE RHYME OF TRIANGULAR TOMMY.


The best game of leap-frog that ever was
seen.

Triangular Tom bent
down this way, you
know,
And Tri-

Ted
stood
beside him,
just so
When one, two,
three goi
With the great-
est gusto,
Ted flew over Tom in a manner not slow.

They played hide-and-seek, they played mar-
bles and tag;
They played they were
soldiers, and each
waved a flag;


Till at last they confessed
They wanted to rest;
So they sat down and chatted with laugh-
ter and jest;

When Schoolmaster Jones
they suddenly spied,
Come clumping along with his
pedagogue stride,
As usual, with manner quite
preoccupied;
With his hat on one
side,
And his shoe-lace un-
tied-
A surly old fellow, it can't
be denied;


And each wicked boy
Thought that he would enjoy
An occasion the thoughtful old man to an-
noy,
And all of his wise calculations destroy.
So they thought they 'd employ
A means known to each boy.
And across the wide pavement they fas-
tened a twine
Exceedingly strong but exceedingly fine;
And Triangular Tommy laughed out in his
glee,
To think how upset the old master would
be!

Although very wicked, their mischievous
scheme
Was a perfect success; and with a loud
scream,
A horrible clash,
A thump and a smash,
Old Schoolmaster Jones came down with a
crash.


His hat rolled away, and his spectacles
broke,
And those dreadful boys thought it a howl-
ing good joke.
And they just doubled up in immoderate
glee,
Saying, "Look at the Schoolmaster! Tee-
hee! tee-hee! "






THE RHYME OF TRIANGULAR TOMMY.


Tom gave a guffaw,
And Ted roared a "haw-haw; "
But soon their diversion was turned into
awe,
For old Schoolmaster Jones was angry,
they saw.

Triangular Ted
Turned swiftly and fled,
And far down the street like a reindeer he
sped,
Leaving Tommy to
face the old gen-
tleman's rage,
Who quickly jumped
up,-he was brisk
for his age,-
And with just indig-
nation portrayed
o on his face,


Now Tommy was agile and Tommy was
spry;
He whizzed through the
air- hejust seemed
to fly;
He rushed madly on,
until, dreadful to
say!
He came where the rail-
road was just in his
way -
And alas! and alack!
He tripped on the
track!
And then with a terrible, sudden ker-thwack !
Triangular Tommy sprawled flat on his
back-
And the train came along with a crash,
and a crack,
A din, and a clatter, a clang, and a clack,
A toot, and a boom, and a roar, and a hiss,
And chopped him all up into pieces like
this -


To Triangular Tommy
he quickly gave
chase.


And hearing his
squeals
And his frantic
appeals,
Triangular Tommy fast took to his heels.


If you cut out papers just like them, why,
then
If you try, you can put him together again.


CAESAR.
(A Charade.)

BY WALTER STORRS BIGELOW.

MY monstrous first holds rude arid ruthless sway
Above three-fourths of all the globe, 't is reckoned:
One-sixth of all remaining must obey
The imperial bidding of my second.

And history tells us that in ancient time,
When the known world was small -
One scepter stretching over every clime -
My whole subdued it all.


592












MISS NINA BARROW.


By FRANCES COURTENAY BAYLOR.


[This story was begun in the Febrary number.]
CHAPTER VII.
NINA'S WANDERINGS.
LATE that afternoon, when Marian came
home after a three hours' absence, and found
that Nina had gone out alone, she made
anxious inquiries of Mrs. Andrews.
I don't know when she left. I must have
been asleep. Why, what keeps her, Marian?
Why did you go out ?" said Mrs. Andrews.
Why, you knew I was going, cousin."
"Yes, yes; of course. You don't think any-
thing can have happened, do you, Marian?
Oh, dear! That child! That child! "
Marian could not answer this question, but
went to look about the neighborhood and
make inquiries. Returning, she found Mrs. An-
drews at the window in a state of increased
anxiety, and with traces of tears on her
cheeks.
"Why did I come to this hotel?" she ex-
claimed. If I had gone somewhere else,
perhaps she would n't have cared to go out.
And why must you have chosen this afternoon
to go out, of all afternoons! Why did n't I
hire a carriage and take Nina to some place of
amusement? Oh, dear! what can have be-
come of her ? "
"But, cousin, you were not well, and no one
could have foreseen this prank of Nina's," said
Marian, quietly.
"Send for the proprietor, Marian; employ
a detective,- a dozen, if necessary,- and tele-
graph, telephone; do bring me some news soon,
or I shall go distracted! cried the agitated
grandmother. Look! all the lamps are lit,
and Nina is wandering nobody knows where!
Oh, why did I ever leave New York! If any-
thing has happened to her, I shall never forgive
myself."
Meanwhile Nina had not been without ad-
VOL. XXIV.- 75. s


ventures. Once outside, she had found that
London was not at all dull. She was, indeed,.
embarrassed by the many things that invited
attention and examination. She was not aware
that she herself was much stared at as she minced
along under her parasol, turned here and there,
or stood gazing into the shops. She was inter-
ested by the neat shops of the dignified butch-
ers, by the cook- and bake-shops, very steamy
and savory, and the drapers' establishments
next door, perhaps, and the greengrocers' with
some vegetables that she had never seen. Nina
stepped into one of these shops and said to the
stout woman seated behind the counter:
"I want four or five pineapples, if you are
sure they are first rate; and hurry up and don't
keep me waiting."
The woman stared.
Four or five pines, do you mean, miss ? It's
a large order, and I 'm thinking we 'ave n't
as many in the shop; but we can get them at
once. What name and address, if you please.
miss ? she said, rising.
Nina gave these.
"Thank you, miss; and if we might serve
you regular, every pains would be took to give
satisfaction. Four pounds, please, miss; and
none finer to be 'ad this day in London."
"Twenty dollars! cried Nina, having al-
ready learned the currency of the country.
"What do you take me for? Now that 's
'cause I 'm an American. But you don't cheat
me! You can just keep your old pineapples."
She swept out of the shop indignantly, actually
forgetting her parasol, for which she had to go
back.
Cheating, miss ? What do you mean ?"
said the woman angrily. "It 's the regular
price, and this is as respectable a shop as there
is in all London, and over a hundred years in
the business." But Nina would not stay to lis-
ten, nor did she dream that this was the truth.





MISS NINA BARROW.


She was staring in a fishmonger's at the new
and wonderful members of the finny tribe dis-
played there, pointing out some cockles with her
parasol, and saying," What on earth's that ? Is
it good to eat ? when a gay, childish voice fell
upon her ear. Turning, she saw a very pretty
but woefully ragged little French girl. In her
hand was a tambourine, and this she shook
while she made little forced, unmirthful leaps
and bounds in the street, and sang a merry air
with a mournful face. Nina laughed, and the
child laughed and began capering again, this
time with more spirit, and sang in her shrill
treble:
Je suis Polonaise, oui-da I
Je me nomme Lodorska,
Je me nomme Lodo, Lois, Loka, Lodo'ska,
Je suis nie a Cracovie.
Je suis Polonaise, oui-da!
Je me nomme Lodofska,
Je me nomme Lodo, Lois, Loka, Lodofska.

Highly diverted and pleased, Nina cried out,
"Oh, how funny! That 's splendid!" and
gave her a shilling, whereupon the little min-
strel's face flushed with pleasure, and the next
moment she capered away.
It had been Nina's intention, of course, to
keep in the immediate neighborhood of the
hotel. She unknowingly wandered off. "I '11
just see what there is down there," or "I '11
just go around the corner a minute," she had
said. She had no idea, either, how time was
running away, because she was amused, inter-
ested. Nor did she particularly notice a little
man who went wherever she went, sometimes
behind her, sometimes in front of her, some-
times on the opposite side of the street, now
sauntering along with his hands in his-pockets,
not seeing anything apparently, now walking
briskly as if on business of importance, but al-
ways keeping her in view.
Coming upon a boy trundling a small hand-
cart heaped high with immense oranges, Nina
stopped him and said: Here! What do you
ask for 'em? A pound apiece, I guess."
"Oh, no, miss, only a penny; and just be
pleased to look at the size of 'em. Pumpkins,
almost, and sweet and juicy-my heyes! 'An-
dle 'em, miss, if I may make so bold, and feel
the weight of 'em," said the boy, and began


juggling with them, and giving out a fearfully
shrill, discordant squawk, that only the initiated
could have recognized as Fi-i-ne Sicily or-
an-ges! "
"Very well, I '11 take six," said Nina, who
was very fond of oranges; and she might have
seen the little man brush by her as she opened
her purse and paid for them. The little man
could see that in the purse were three gold
pieces and some half-crowns and shillings.
Nina next walked through a small park or
square filled with some stunted trees and
shrubs, and thronged with nursery-maids and
babies from the houses near by. Coming out,
she turned to the left, then to the right, and was
midway in an extremely long stretch of unbro-
ken street bordered by handsome houses, when
down came the rain,--never very far off in Eng-
land. Dismayed, Nina looked up, around,
about her, seeing nothing but the little man,
who had still followed. He now advanced
and said very civilly:
"If you '11 come up this way, miss, w'ich I
am coachman to a fambly living right there in
the third house and I lives near by, me and my
wife, you can have shelter, and welcome."
There was a hansom standing in front of the
house he had pointed out. Grandy's parasol
did not afford much shelter. Nina had on her
best holiday attire. For a second she hesitated,
and then said, with a sharp glance at him, Go
with you? No, indeed. I 'm not so stupid."
If she had looked back she would have
seen that the bogus coachman was still lurking
in the neighborhood. On and on she went.
She tried to retrace the many turns she had
made, but every moment became more con-
fused. A plucky child, however, she did not
get frightened even when, after about twenty
minutes of walking, staring, and puzzling, she
found herself in a short, narrow lane dimly
lit by lamps, at the back of Portlington Cres-
cent. Here she was suddenly confronted by
the little man who had followed her.
Well," said Nina coolly, what do you
want ? Everybody I meet seems to want some-
thing." For answer there came a sudden blow
on the head, her purse was snatched from her,
and so was her parasol; but not until she had
given the man a sharp return stroke with it.






MISS NINA BARROW.


Nina shrieked loudly and lustily for help. A
policeman was not far away, and ran to her as
the man ran away.
"Catch him! Hit him! Hold him! Never
mind me! cried Nina in great excitement, in-
tent first on revenge. But what huge Policeman
X did was to pick up her hat and the oranges,
listen to her story, take her home, and turn her
over to the wailing Mrs. Andrews.
Marian heard Nina's story, and tipped the
good-hearted giant who had come to the res-
cue. He said respectfully, "Thank you. It
ought never to have been allowed, miss "; and
went his way.
This was what Marian thought, and it was
she who heard all from the culprit, comforted
her, and forbore to point any morals or tell any
tales.
Oh, Cousin Marian, this is the meanest,
horridest, wickedest, cheatingest place that ever
was!" said Nina in conclusion. "I 've lost
my purse and my parasol, and that man hit
me; and-just think!-those beautiful or-
anges that I bought had been boiled to make
'em all swell up and look big! That police-
man and I threw them all away. I 've been
fooled by these scamps / Oh, boo-hoo, boo-
hoo!"
CHAPTER VIII.
SIGHT-SEEING.
THE day after Nina's adventures in search
of amusement had turned out so alarmingly,
Mrs. Andrews, made worse by the anxiety she
had undergone, desired Marian to send for the
great Sir Wilkinson Jebb, whose fame, as physi-
cian to the Queen and half the royalties of Eu-
rope, had crossed the Atlantic.
A portly, fresh-faced, spectacled gentleman of
about sixty, of the most dignified (not to say pom-
pous) bearing, drove up to the hotel that after-
noon in a brougham of much quiet elegance, and
was duly announced to Mrs. Andrews. Having
seated himself in the only comfortable chair the
room boasted, he listened with the calmness of
his profession to that lady's voluble account of
herself. His expressionless eyes were fixed upon
her face as she talked, and he fidgeted when,
after the manner of some patients, she went
into the history of her ailment, the opinions


of previous doctors, the similar and dissimilar
cases of the same malady that had come under
her notice; then, catching Marian's eye, he
said with reserve that there seemed to be a
slight feverish tendency," rapidly wrote a pre-
scription, ordered Mrs. Andrews to stay in bed
and be absolutely quiet for several days, made
a few courteous, stilted remarks about the wea-
ther and the topics of the day, and with a
profoundly polite salaam was on his way down-
stairs when he met Nina.
"You still up, my child ?" he said in sur-
prise, on encountering Nina's fixed gaze. How
is it that you are not in bed? Anxious about
your grandmother, I suppose. You need not
be, I assure you. She is doing admirably.
You may go to bed now."
It is n't your business to send me to bed,"
said Miss Irrepressible, tartly.
"Ha, ha! Very good, very good! I 'd be
precious glad to put myself there, I know; but
we doctors are like postmen, always on the
move," said he. "But you should keep early
hours, you know. You look fagged and deli-
cate."
Well, moving round does n't seem to make
you look delicate. I like to be thin, and I 'm
very well, and one should .n't make personal
remarks," retorted Nina severely--and con-
sistently.
Sir Wilkinson's face was a study on hearing
this. Displeased astonishment at finding him-
self so familiarly accosted was followed by a
puzzled expression, and that by an increase
of color and a stiffening of the whole figure.
" Oh, that is your opinion, is it ? he said to
her huffily; and then to Marian at the door,
"Your young friend is- He did not finish
the sentence, but brushed his hat with his hand,
and with his head on one side gazed reflect-
ively down upon Nina, smiled in a mechanical,
professional sort of way, finally, and added:
"Odd child, very! Delightful! Ah! Oh, yes.
You will see that water is given with the mixture,
Miss Brewster; but unless there should be some
very decided development ah! where is my
cane ? Ah! Good night."
In a few days Mrs. Andrews was better-
that is, her fever had left her; but her conva-
lescence proved a tedious affair, and being or-





MISS NINA BARROW.


dered to keep her room for some time, she
proceeded to abandon herself to invalidism.
She sent for some books, saying it would be a
good time to read.
"It is dreadful my being laid up like this
now, Marian," she said. "Everything seems
to go wrong. However, now that we are here,
you will have to take Nina about and show
her everything that she cares to see. Find
out what will interest her. I can't discover
that she wants to see anything particularly."
Nothing loath, Marian sat down, got out
her guide-books and maps, and made out a
list of the most important sights.
"Does n't it sound delicious ? she said, after
reading the list to Nina. Now we shall see how
good your eyes and ears are, Miss Nina! We are
going to have a glorious time of it, a feast of
sight-seeing. We are going to see London, and
we are not going to kill ourselves, either, doing
it, but to take it all systematically and quietly
and pleasantly day by day. And in future just
think what it will mean to us when somebody
speaks of London! "
Accordingly, every day after this, after a
comfortable breakfast, they "went into Com-
mittee of Two," as Marian said, and decided
what particular plum they would take from this
rich cake, as their share for that day. Then,
having decided, they would start in high spirits
and perfect accord to see this or that notable
sight.
Nina had already had some experience of
Marian's practical sagacity, and had felt, with-
out being quite conscious of it, the patience,
sympathy, comprehension, and justice that had
marked her conduct throughout. She was now
to feel the charm of association with a fine and
cultured mind under circumstances that natu-
rally brought out its breadth and resources -
to say nothing of a sunny nature and a charac-
ter in which strength and sweetness were com-
bined in a most unusual degree.
Having settled upon the place they were to
visit, Marian would thoroughly inform herself
about it, or refresh her memory with regard to
it, and then in the most clever and interesting
way tell the important points for Nina's bene-
fit, adding such spice in the way of romance,
poetry, anecdotes, biography, as her wide know-


ledge of English history and literature sug-
gested. "Stories," Nina called them all. In-
stead of tiring her with long, dry, technical
accounts and details of places, people, and past
events, she managed to make them exist,
breathe, live again to the eager, imaginative
child. When they stood in front of the Nel-
son monument, for instance, Marian stirred her
heart by telling her of Nelson of the Nile, sa-
viour of the silver-coasted isle," and his battles,
victories, and death, instead of dwelling on the
style of architecture or the height of the column.
At Apsley House the Great Duke was her text.
The tombs of the heroes in St. Paul's in-
terested Nina more than anything else there.
These, with the stained glass, the beautiful
carvings by Grinling Gibbons, the crypt sup-
porting such an immense weight, the fact that
the towers could be seen at sea and as far west
as Windsor, and that Sir Christopher Wren built
it in thirty-five years on the site of an ancient
Gothic cathedral destroyed in the Great Fire,-
whereas St. Peter's at Rome, its only rival, was
a hundred and fifty years in building,- and
some stories about Howard and Heber, ever
after stood for St. Paul's in her mind.
The Tower was not to be seen in one visit,
or even in the three they made to it; and its
great ghosts and its two little ones-those of the
murdered princes--were very visible to these
travelers, and as real as themselves. Full of
interest and enthusiasm herself, Marian easily
inspired the child with both; and together they
walked through the silent rooms that are yet so
eloquent of the tears, sighs, prayers woes of so
many souls; together walked over Tower Green,
red with the blood of so many of England's
noblest and bravest; together lingered in the
Chapel, so full of shadows actual and histori-
cal; admired the crown jewels, and discussed
in turn the long line of British monarchs and
warriors in full armor, mounted on their war
steeds in separate stalls of the Horse Armory;
and having enjoyed fully every feature of the
palace-citadel, passed through the terrible Trai-
tors' Gate, and went home by water, "just to
see what it was like in Warwick's time."
The storied urns" and marble busts and
no longer animated dust of the Abbey gave
them so much to see and talk over that, alone,


(MAY,


596






MISS NINA BARROW.


it would have been worth a voyage across the
Atlantic. The Temple Church and Gardens
were another delight; and no matter where they
went, stories, poems, quotations, dates, facts,
came thronging to Marian's mind; and Nina
hanging on her arm, her eyes bright with ex-
citement, her cheeks flushed, more than once
with lips trembling and eyes full of tears, eagerly
heard them all, with even more intelligence and
sympathy than Marian had given her credit
for. She could not hear enough, indeed, about
Blondel and the Lion-heart, Elizabeth and
Mary, Lady Jane Grey, Warwick the King-
maker, and many, many more.
Her interest showed itself in some character-
istic ways. The rabbit-faced, anxious verger at
the Abbey, finding her brandishing her um-
brella fiercely about Queen Elizabeth's head in
a way that would have endangered her own a
few centuries back, went up to her in great
haste to ask, Whatever are you doing ? de-
facing the monuments ? "
Ugh-h! said Nina, still looking at her
imperious majesty, and making an atrocious
grimace, intended to be expressive of the ut-
most hatred and contempt, taking no notice
of him whatever. "You hateful, red-headed
old fright of a tyrant, who killed that sweet,
lovely, beautiful cousin who trusted you! I 'd
like to send you to the Tower forever, and
never give you anything to eat, and never let
you read your letters. And I would, too, if
I only had you in New York! "
The startled verger stared with all his eyes
on hearing this, but before he could say more
Nina had turned to him quickly, saying, I 'm
so sorry she 's dead! I 'd like to punish her,
I would.-What do you wear that black night-
gown for ? "
When he could collect his senses he made
answer gruffly: 'Er Majesty Queen Helizabeth
was the greatest severing Hengland 's ever 'ad,
miss, and so was 'er reign; and you 're actin'
suspicious and talking' in a way that can't be al-
lowed 'ere, a-showin' disrespect to the crown in
estronnary langwidge and threatening' violence.
Please to walk on, and not stop behind again,
miss; and give over that umbrella to me. I
did n't notice it. As to my gown, it's what all
vergers wears; and I 'm not to be made game


of, I can tell you, by n/one in my own Habbey!
The dean hisself would n't think of it. The
harches in this chapel, you will observe -"
and so on.
Marian was amused to hear his voice rise
to its usual rasping professional level at the
close of his sentence, and taking Nina's hand,
she led her away to the Poet's Corner.
The particular Beefeater who chanced to be
on duty at the Tower, and fell to their lot, had
likewise a misunderstanding with Nina.
Do you belong to a circus?" Nina de-
manded of him when she found an opportunity.
Belong to a circus, miss? Well, I should
say not. I 'm a soldier. I 've served in Can-
ada and India and Afghanistan, and won a
medal in the Kaffir troubles; and they gave
me this place, although there were others that
wanted it. I belonged to the 79th Lowlanders.
And I 've got two brothers in the Black
Watch,' said he with evident pride.
I never saw a black watch. Are they for
colored people ? said Nina.
"Not they, miss! Never! Nor nothing' to
do with 'em. They are as white as you or me,
- excuse me mentionin' you so freely,- and
better soldiers never followed a flag nor heard
a drum," said the veteran with pardonable
pride. "And what you mean by a circus I
can't make out."
Well, there 's a whole lot of you over here, in
houses and on the carriages and round every-
where, that look to me as if a circus was around.
But never mind. If I were you, though, I'd be
ashamed to stay here, and keep on putting peo-
ple in here and locking them up and treating
them shamefully even when you don't kill
them if I were a soldier."
Oh, miss, there is n't any of that now -
not a bit, bless you! -excuse me blessin' you
-and yob 're quite right. I 've said the same
to myself many a time. If I had been living
and had taken the Queen's shilling then,-I
mean enlisted, Miss,-I do believe I would
have deserted. A soldier is n't a butcher, and
butchers was what was wanted then."
This established pleasanter relations between
them, and before parting he gave her a bit of
wood from an old beam recently torn out of the
White Tower in the course of some repairs that





MISS NINA BARROW.


had been made, saying, You 'd like that, miss,
would n't you? A tale it could tell, and no
mistake, if it had a tongue like yours. Excuse
me mentionin' it. I give it to you because
you 're from the States; and I served out in
Canada myself."
Thank you, awfully," said Nina, and looked,
as she felt, highly pleased.
This souvenir, with a flower from the Temple
Gardens, right from the very spot where they
began to quarrel like cats and dogs, and had
the War of the Roses," as Nina used afterward
to explain, became the beginning of a large col-
lection of interesting mementos, and helped to
fix in her mind a large amount of "historical
information" not called by that official and
forbidding title. When they came home, after
they had rested and dined Marian would
laughingly question Nina as to what she had
seen. At first she had been so little trained to
observation that she could mention only two or
three things that had impressed her, and could
give no clear account of those; but it was
wonderful to see how her memory improved.
That she might do so, Marian would, "for
the fun of it," suggest that she should walk
past a shop-window at her usual pace, and then
reckon up what she had seen. The list grew
and grew, to Nina's delight, until it embraced a
truly extraordinary number and variety of ob-
jects.
In the same way she soon learned to use her
eyes and memory, as they dashed through the
streets in a hansom, or walked in the park,
and found the greatest amusement in it. Very
soon she was even giving detailed descriptions
of the people whom she passed in this casual way,
the streets and the shops and capital object-
lessons they made. And all this was a great
help when it came to seeing the features of the
"commercial capital of the world." In intelli-
gent interest, in the power of grasping and retain-
ing the knowledge she acquired, she made
most satisfactory progress; and Marian was con-
firmed in her belief as to Nina's cleverness, and
the necessity of filling her empty little head
with something better than idle talk or fool-
ish, hurtful gossip. If Nina had been told that
this was being educated no less than if she
had been set to work out problems in algebra,


she would have laughed the idea to scorn. She
thought it delightful, while to be "educated"
had meant to her long, stupid lessons and close
rooms and headache-" chains and slavery."
"It is the nicest thing going about with
you," she once said to Marian. "You know
all about everything, you 're not a bit poky,
and that Dickens's history and the Gilbert a
Becket's are not a bit like the histories we studied
at our school. And you read such lovely stor-
ies about things, and you never get mad with
me, and you 're just splendid "
Marian had told in her own words the
story of "Ivanhoe," and all about Warwick
and his followers, "stories" from Shakspere,
" stories about Temple Bar and the traitors'
heads that used to be fixed above it, stories "
about the celebrities they saw at the wax-works.
She read Nina bits from Ainsworth's Lon-
don"; she showed her the pictures in the
" Comic History of England "; she repeated Ay-
toun's and Macaulay's lays to her; she picked
out bits of Froissart to read aloud; she told her
of Sidney, of Chevalier Bayard, of Drake, of
Sir Walter Raleigh, and of Sir Thomas More
-something interesting at every turn. And
Nina took it in with all her eyes as well as ears.
With the National Gallery it was the same
thing, and so with the old inns of London,
the old churches, Fleet Street, the Strand,
Trafalgar Square.
And there was so much honest, merry fun in
Marian that, not content with these, she would
repeat Thackeray's ballads-" Eliza Davis"
and "Three Sailors of Bristol City"-or the
" Bab Ballads and the Ingoldsby Legends."
She was, indeed, far more interested herself in
all about her than Nina, keeping a sharp look-
out for Dickens's characters, reveling in all
that was seen and suggested.
"Oh, there 's Sam Weller !" she would cry
out; or I 'm sure the Dolls' Dressmaker lives
in that dark, fusty little shop"; or Here
come Mr. Pickwick and Miss Flite!" And
then of course Nina would be all questions,
and there would be more stories. There
never were three weeks more brimful of all
pleasantness.
Only once was Nina a little unruly. It was
the day they went down to the Horse Guards.


598


[MAY,






MISS NINA BARROW.


Fascinated by the mounted sentries, chosen
from the Household cavalry, on guard in the
stone alcoves of the arched roadway leading
to St. James's Park, and apparently as immov-
able as if also carved out of stone, Nina
stared and stared. "Are you sure they are
alive?" she said. If I had a bonnet-pin
I 'd try it on the calf of that one's leg, and
see. I'd make him jump! Here a thought
struck her. Groping in her pocket, she took
out a metal tape-measure that happened to
be there, and with a jerk of the arm sent it
right across the sentry's face, so that it just
grazed his nose.
Oh, Cousin Marian! He looked right
straight ahead, just the same! He did n't move
a single mite! He only winked! she cried.
"What would he do if there should be an
earthquake ? whereupon Marian exclaimed,
" Nina! and begged the sentry's pardon for
her, and got another wink of forgiveness from
the mountain of military trappings set in his
niche like the god of war.
As they walked away, Marian told Nina of
the Roman soldier who would not leave his
post when Pompeii was buried under burn-
ing lava, to show her to what perfection dis-
cipline could be carried, and what a soldier's
idea of duty is. "He could die, but he
could n't be unfaithful," she concluded. "Was
it not a fine, brave, beautiful thing? "
On the day that they went to the Hospital
for Sick Children, it happened that as they
entered the chief ward, the first child they
saw had propped herself up on her elbow and
was looking out of the window trying to peep
at the Punch and Judy show in the street be-
low. I can't see it. It's so far away. And
I 'm so tired of lying here and being ill; and
the dog is like my dog I used to have," she
complained, and weeping, fell back on her
little pillow.
Never mind, dearie. As soon as you are
well enough you shall go out and see one.
There! there! Don't fret," said the nurse, a
comely, middle-aged person with a pleasant
face and cheerful voice.
She 's had to wear an iron brace for a year
past, and she gets restless sometimes, poor
child," she explained in a low tone.


"Can she go down?" asked Nina. I '11
take her. I wish I 'd brought Beelzebub to
show her; he 's just about the loveliest fright
that anybody ever saw. Goodness! what a
lot of little beds! And are all the children
in irons, like this one? Why don't you let
the poor little thing go down if she wants to ?
I'd hop right out of that bed and go anyway,
if I lived here."
Oh, no, you would n't. You could n't
move; you know we have to keep them quiet,"
said the nurse.
Then why don't you have it come up
here ?" said Nina. "Why, that 's it! Poor
little things! I 'l1 pay him. I '11 run and get
him for them right now."
She was about to dart off. The nurse gently
detained her.
It is a capital idea. We never thought of
that, and it would be a very great pleasure
to them, and it is very kind of you to think
of it. Would you allow it ? she asked, look-
ing at Marian.
Oh, she 's got nothing to do with it. It's
my money, and I 've got plenty of it, and I 'm
going to spend it just as I please," said Nina;
then catching sight of Marian's face, she hastily
added, You don't care?' You'd like me to do
it, would n't you, Cousin Marian? "
"Yes, I should," agreed Marian.
"Very well, then. It is most kind of the
young lady, and I '11 send down if I can get
permission. I '11 go and see." She went off.
"I did n't mean a thing when I said that
about the money," whispered Nina; "only,
everything 's permission' in England. I
never saw such a place."
But in five minutes the smiling nurse was
back again, followed by the show and the
showman. This young lady from America
kindly wishes you to play for the children," she
said to him; but she was scarcely heard for the
delighted cries of the children, nearly all of
whom rose up in their beds and turned toward
the show like so many little sunflowers turn-
ing toward the sun, while he dexterously set up
his miniature theater, and shook out Judy's
skirts, and prepared Punch for his labors.
Seldom at any theater have actors given half
so much pleasure to an audience. Some of the






MISS NINA BARROW.


children laughed, shrieked, rolled about on
their beds, -thumped their pillows, were doubled
up with the ecstasy of the entertainment. It
was pathetic to see the wan little'faces flush,
the sunken eyes brighten, to hear the feeble at-
tempts at laughter. And. Nina, in the midst of
them, enjoyed it, too, immensely, and secretly
determined to get up a private "Punch and
Judy" of her own, with Beelzebub cast as
"Toby." When it was all over, the good-na-
tured proprietor of the puppets laid them away
in their boxes, and then took the trouble to
make his Toby show off some of his tricks, such
as jumping through a ring, picking the khave
of diamonds out of a pack of cards, and waltz-
ing in a giddy, sprawling fashion that was very
comical. He would take no money for this,
saying," So the poor young uns be pleased, it's
all I wants; and pleased they be, ma'am."
Nina made the rounds of the ward, and
heard the names of the children and something
of their histories. She promised to see them
again, and was delighted when one of them
cried out, "Come again soon, won't you? "
and so took her leave.
"That was delightful, dear, was n't it?"
said Marian. "I am so glad you thought of
it. Is n't it a joyful thing to have given all
that pleasure ? It was money well spent, dear;
and you will be the richer and happier for what
you spend in such ways, all your life long."
Both in the doing and the remembering, this
experience was the nicest of all the London
adventures, although Nina greatly enjoyed the
"Zoo," the Crystal Palace, the flowers at the
Royal Botanic and Horticultural gardens, and
the charming jaunts to Kew, Richmond, Hamp-
ton Court, and Windsor, that Marian pro-
posed. Nina had never been so good, so busy,
so happy, in all her life. She was as brisk as a
swallow, and chattered like a magpie, and quite
forgot to be troublesome, wilful, or naughty,
for the time being.
"I really do think we have seen everything,
- a little of it, anyway,- except Jobson's
mother. I did want to see Jobson's mother.
She lives on some sort of green or common. I
have forgotten the name of it."
England had long before they landed been
"the home of Jobson's mother" to Nina.


The very first day that Mrs. Andrews could
get out, though, they went shopping, and the
original Nina cropped out again. She kept
her Grandy standing for a full hour while she
chose no less than six dresses, and gave her
own orders about them to an astonished young
" person," in one of the great shops. Mrs. An-
drews tried to order a mantle for herself, while
Nina was buying other things; but Nina came
up, joined in the conversation, advised, ridiculed
her taste, informed her that she could settle it
all in five minutes, and said to the saleswoman
as they were leaving, "And you hurry up as
fast as ever you can with my things. Send
them first." And with small ceremony she hus-
tled out of the shop and into her cab.
"I have n't a suitable dinner-gown to wear
at Aubrey Court; and I really need my mantle
at once," complained Mrs. Andrews peevishly
to Marian. "But Nina has so much to be
done that I '11 have to wait for weeks, I sup-
pose, for either."
I don't see that at all, cousin," said Marian;
and going to her room, she wrote a note po-
litely requesting the dressmaker to send Mrs.
Andrews's gown and cloak down to the country
as soon as possible, and to finish Nina's at her
convenience afterward. But after some reflec-
tion she tore up this note.
I will see what responsibility will do to-
ward steadying her and making her unselfish.
She shall write it herself; that is the best way,"
said Marian;
Then she called Nina.
"Just sit down, dear, and send a line to
Wyman & Freebody asking them to send
Mrs. Andrews's things at once," she said to
Nina. "You would n't like her to be incon-
venienced, I know; and you don't need your
things as much. And if you did, you would
willingly wait for them, of course, rather than
that she should."
Nina, much surprised, looked at Marian
sharply. Marian went on calmly: If you try,
dear, you can save your grandmother much
trouble about such matters -make suggestions,
carry out her wishes nicely, and see that she
has just what she needs. and likes, without her
being put to any trouble. You are going to
take excellent care of her, I know, when you


[MAY,;


60oo





MISS NINA BARROW.


are grown, and make her the happiest old lady
in New York."
Nina flushed, went and got her portfolio, and
seating herself, rapidly wrote a highly impera-
tive note, very eccentric as to spelling and
doubtful as to tenses, but unmistakably order-
ing all possible haste and industry to be made
with Mrs. Andrews's gown and mantle. She
showed it to Marian, and sent Claudine out to
put it in the nearest pillar-post at once. She
found this feeling of responsibility so pleasant,
indeed, that she proceeded to exercise it still
further that afternoon. After luncheon she was
dressing her pug up in various garments that
she had made for him, to her own and Claud-
ine's great amusement, when he suddenly fell
down as she was tying a bonnet rather tightly
under his chin, and rolled over in a kind
of fit, the result of over-feedina. Marian,
as it happened, was out.
"Oh! he 's going to hi '
another! I'm going to seni d
for Sir Wilkinson right
away," cried Nina. He
shall come and give my
darling Beelzebub some- ,'
thing to cure him. Here, '
Claudine, run and bring '
my portfolio." /
Nina selected a sheet,
and in very round text
wrote this note:

SIR WILKINSON: Pleas '
come the minute you get
this. He 's dying.
Your friend,...
NINA G. BARROW.

P. S. Don't wait for anything, but jump right in
your cab and come. NINA G. BARROW.

P. S. Bring something for fitts.
NINA G. BARROW,
NEW YORK,
UNITED STATES.

She was much pleased with this missive when
she read it over. She addressed it to Mr.
Sir Wilkinson Jebb, in Harley Street, London,
England," and sent it by a messenger who had
previously carried notes to the house.
Sir Wilkinson was in, as it happened, scruti-
VOL. XXIV.- 76.


nized the address of the note, read it hurriedly,
could not quite make it out, but concluded
that Mrs. Andrews was dying, and exclaimed,
" Good heavens! What can have made that
old lady go off like that ? She seemed all right
enough. This poor child is evidently left alone
with her, and frightened to death."
So he gave up his luncheon, and getting into
his carriage, bade the coachman drive to the
hotel as quickly as possible. When he arrived
at Mrs. Andrews's rooms, puffing and breathless
from making the ascent of a long flight of steps,
he was met at the door by Nina.
"Where is she? How is she? I got your
note, my poor child, and came at once," he
said, looking around, surprised not to see Mrs.
Andrews. She was in Marian's room and, of

K


"SIR WILKINSON COULD NOT BELIEVE HIS SENSES."
(SEE NEXT PAGE.)

course, knew nothing of what thoughtless Nina
had done.
Did you bring anything for fits ? asked
Nina briskly, not at all surprised to see the
Doctor, and not dreaming of thanking him for
what she considered a matter of course.
Yes, I have something here, and my lancet;


6oi






MISS NINA BARROW.


and my assistant is with me. Where is she?
There is no time to be lost."
"She ? He 's had two of the awfullest fits
you ever saw, Sir Wilkinson; but he 's better
now, and I guess you can cure him up all
right," replied Nina.
"Him?" repeated Sir Wilkinson, utterly at
sea. Of whom are you talking-your grand-
mother your governess the maid ? "
Goodness, no! Grandy 's all right, and
Cousin Marian's gone out walking, and Claud-
ine 's fluting her caps, I guess. It 's Beelzebub
that 's sick. Here he is on the sofa. He 's
gone to sleep, now, dear little thing! But you
just ought to have seen him. He would have
scared you well!--his eyes all rolling, and
kind of shivering all over, don't you know, and
his legs jerking like anything. Poor, darling,
blessed, little mite of a thing! explained Nina,
turning down the corner of her grandmother's
sealskin cloak, in which she had wrapped the
interesting sufferer. Here he is."
Sir Wilkinson stared. Sir Wilkinson glared.
Sir Wilkinson could not believe his senses; he
was struck speechless by the unparalleled auda-
city of the act; he turned positively purple.
"And do you mean to say that you have
dared- that you have presumed- that you
have had the consummate impudence to send
for me to prescribe for your pug? "
The violence of his emotion was so great,
the capacity of his sonorous lungs so unusual,
that "pug" did not seem a word at all, but
sounded like a rocket exploding hissingly in mid-
air. Sir Wilkinson was never nearer having a
fit himself; and, aware of the fact, he became
his own patient, hastily loosening his cravat
a little, and dashing up the window with a
bang that shook the room, and brought Mrs.
Andrews in, trembling with nervousness.


Yes, I did," said Nina, who was no coward,
to begin with, and did not consider herself in
the least at fault. Of course I did. I was
not going to let my darling doggie die, for you
or anybody! And if you 're sorry you came,
you can just go away again. Ain't you paid
for coming? What are you making such a
fuss about ? "
"A _pug! A pug! I called into ap ug!"
shouted Sir Wilkinson, striding furiously up and
down the room. It is the most impudent-
the most preposterous- the most outrageous pro-
ceeding that was ever heard of! Did you
know of this, madam?" wheeling and facing
Mrs. Andrews, who was petrified with amaze-
ment. Then, without waiting for an answer,
he went on: "Very well, madam; I have the
honor to wish you and your charming grand-
daughter a very good morning. It may be cus-
tomary in the States for respectable physicians
to attend pugs; but it is not the case in Eng-
land, allow me to inform you." And with a
truly awful mien, Sir Wilkinson took his de-
parture, stumbling over his assistant at the
door, hastening down-stairs, and flinging him-
self into his brougham.
Next morning's post brought Sir Wilkinson's
bill. It was enormous, even for him.
Look at it, Marian!" Mrs. Andrews cried
out. "And there is no knowing what our
hotel bill will be We must go to-morrow."
Go they did. Nina, cheerful and utterly un-
concerned to the last, laughed outright when
she saw the long line of affectionately attentive
candidates for tips assembled in the hall to
bid them farewell.
"Is this all the family? Where are the
others?" she asked mockingly of them, an'd
gave nobody anything, nor so much as wished
them good-by as she ran past.


(To be continued.)


602







THE KING'S HIGH WAY.

By RUDOLPH F. BUNNER.


THE morning was bright when the country clown
Thus spake to a courtier just leaving the town:
"My lord, you enjoy the.King's highway,
It is pleasant and easy and fair-"
But the courtier broke out, "That is easy to say,
But, young man, you are quite wrong there.
For when one has been told, without rhyme or reason,
He must do this or that -- to refuse is high treason.
When one must never a question raise-
But sugar his tongue with words of praise,
Though snubbed, neglected, scorned, or scolded,
While all his will to another's is molded;
And if, after this, he gets the sack,
Is told to leave and never come back,
He knows how I 've been treated to-day.
Oh, I 've had quite enough of the King's high way."


w.:











eoo boi




Booboo


Bdoobootle



Booboo


BY GERTRUDE SMITH.


AND one morning Robbie's father stood
by Robbie's bed, and Robbie was sleeping,
and sleeping, and sleeping.


S
LITTLE BOOBOO IN THE LITTLE LAKE.


Boo boo said Robbie's father.
Robbie opened his eyes and sat up.
"Boo -boo! he answered sleepily.
"Boo boo said his father again,
and jumped at him.
"Boo-boo!" answered Robbie, but
now his eyes were wide open.
Then the big Booboo took the little
Booboo up in his arms and carried hin:
down to the garden for they lived much
of the time in summer in the garden,
and only slept in the house.
And the garden was full of roses, anc
daisies, and pinks, and many, many flow-
ers besides.
In the shade of a great big tree was
tiny little lake. And what do you think :
The little Booboo took off his nightgown
and waded out into the lake!
He had his bath in the little lake' in
the garden not in a bath-tub at all, but
in the little lake in the garden!
The water came up, up, up to his chin,
but he was n't a bit afraid.
I 'm a fish! I 'm a fish! he shouted
and down he splashed and swam like a fish.
He was only four years old the little
Booboo, but he could certainly, certainly
do a great many things for his age. He
could swim as well as his father.






THE BIG BOOBOO AND THE LITTLE BOOBOO.


And the big Booboo sat on a rock and
watched him.
He often swam. in the lake himself, and
knew what fun it was.
And little maid Annie came down the
walk and told them that breakfast was
ready.
So out of the water Robbie came. and
soon had his legs in his trousers.
For the little Booboo wore
trousers too, and a coat, and
a pair of suspenders-just
like his father's!
And then they went over
to breakfast, on the other
side of the garden,- they -
always ate in the garden. '
But before they sat down
to the table the big Boo-
boo stood on his head! On ,'
the smooth green lawn he '-.
stood on his head! It was
a way he had, when he was .,
Sglad, of surprising the little
Booboo.
The table was set where
the roses grew all over a '
shady arbor.
And little maid Annie
brought out the cakes, and
the toast, and the chocolate too.
Then when big Booboo was seated
at the table, and little Booboo was seated
at the table, big Booboo in a big chair,
and little Booboo in a little chair, Mama,
all dressed in blue and white, jumped out
into sight from behind a bush, and said:
"Boo boo! Who knew ? Not you.
I 've been all the time in the garden. I
saw you taking your bath!"


And the big Booboo laughed, "Ha!
ha!"
And the little Booboo laughed, "He!
he! Did you see me?"


" BOO BOO WHO


..



















KNEW NOT YOU.'
I '
I I )






t ii f



KNE\W?--NOT YOU.' "


And so the day began a happy,
happy day.
For the big Booboo and the little
Booboo always were thinking of things
to do, and having the best of times.


605


VIA
". ,,
^^,w.


'i -










JEMIMA.

By HARRIET CLARK McLEAR.

SHE stands up straight before me,
With her prim old-fashioned air,
With her ancient dress and buckled shoes,
A And quaint, cold, wooden stare.
The little modern maidens
Think her queer" and "old and slow,"
But most dear was she to one fond heart,
Just ninety years ago.

Time has not dimmed the brightness
Of her black, well-painted eyes,
Nor stolen the roses from her cheeks;
But looks of grim surprise
Replace the loving glances
Which she must have given, we know,
When she saw her little mother's face,
Just ninety years ago.

Her arms are made of linen,
i /But the rest is all of wood;
And she stands up very stiff and straight,
As well-bred ladies should.
She likes to stand up always,
SFor she thinks it best to show
To the ill-bred modern dolls the ways
Of ninety years ago.

No hair has she had ever,
So she quite despises curls,
And she thinks them fit for giddy pates
Of frivolous doll-girls.
She thinks hair is not needed;
For she says 't was never so
In the good old days when she was young,
Just ninety years ago.

She wears three caps as always
Made, the innermost, of lace,
And the outermost with ruffles wide,
Which come about her face.
The middle one of cambric;
They were all once white as snow,
But have browned with age since they were made
Just ninety years ago.







607


JEMIMA.
Her dress was fine and dainty,
Of a blue and white, 't would seem,
But the blue is now a faded plum,
The white is like rich cream.
The skirt her ankles reaches,
And the neck is rather low;
But 't was in the height of style, when new,
Just ninety years ago.

Her little hose were snow-white,
And were tied with ribbons blue,
And she has small silken slippers,
Which were bright pink when new.
She wears her red shoes, always,
With the silver buckles, though
She has lost one buckle- careless she,
Just ninety years ago. I

She always wears a necklace
Of small beads of shining green.
Her little mother strung those beads
With loving thoughts between.
You plainly see that they are glass;
But you must not tell her so,
For they played that they were emeralds, once,
Just ninety years ago.

Her rosy cheeks are wrinkled,
There are cracks across her brow,
And her quaint old dress is thin and worn;
She is never played with now.
She dreams of days when no one
Thought her "queer," or "old," or "slow,"
And she longs to be once more beloved
As ninety years ago.








Tt E


OBMN.


BY ANNA CHASE DAVIS.

I AM going to tell you a story about
the robin. All the children love him
-. -and know him by his pretty red breast.
He comes to see us in the spring.
We are glad to hear his sweet song.
We are sure then that the warm days are near.
His little mate and he choose a place for their home.
Then they build their nest.
Do they build in a high tree or a low bush ?
Watch them and you will see.
It is such hard work for them.
See how busy they are.
They have to carry everything in their beaks and claws.
Would you like to help them ?
I will tell you how you can do it.
Cut some pieces of string about six inches long.
Measure six inches and you will see how long that is.
Scatter the pieces of string on the grass.
Now watch the robins.
They will soon find the string.
They like it to put in their nest.
If you find an old nest some day, you will see some bits of string in it.
See how well it is made.
Could you make one like it?
Who teaches the birds to build their nests ?
The robin's nest is lined with mud. To make it smooth and round, ti-e
mother-bird gets into the nest. Then she turns round and round. She uses
her breast for this. Now the nest is finished.
What does the mother-bird do next?
She lays her eggs in the nest.
What color are they ?
How many are there ?


~iS~-c~
'


-.- .r






THE ROBIN.


Does the mother-bird leave the eggs ?
warm. She flies off for food. She stays








i ,/ r\; *














to fly.




They chirp and call to them.
I suppose they tell the little ones not
m i 'r ? hw m y


WATCHING THE ROBINS.
Soon the feathers grow longer and
thicker. Now they are strong enough
to fly.
They stand on the edge of the nest.
They are so afraid!
The father and mother fly about them.
They chirp and call to them.
I suppose they tell the little ones not
to be afraid.
Soon they will fly away.
Robins are of the kind of birds called
" perchers."
See how many toes they have. How
many in front? how many behind?


No; she sits on them to keep them
only a short time.
Soon little baby-birds will come out
of those eggs. If the eggs should get
cold the baby-birds would die.
The father-bird comes and sings to
the mother-bird. She is very patient.
Day after day she sits there.
In about two weeks she hears a little
pecking sound. The baby-birds are
knocking to come out. Soon the shells
crack and the birds are in the nest.
How glad the old birds are They
are busy now getting food for their
babies. See how they get the worms
for their breakfast.
The young birds grow stronger every
day. They are not pretty when they
are little.


1i


t i. :- -"
>'k






FINDING THE BITS OF STRING.


Their feet are made to hop from twig to twig. They perch on the branches. Their
claws are long so that they can clasp the branch. What color are the robins ? Are
the mother-bird and father-bird the same color? Watch them and see.





VOL. XXIV.-7.--
I, -'. '




VOL. XXIV.-77.


6o9











TWO NEW MEMORY-RHYMES.


BY TUDOR JENKS.


BESIDES the ever-useful Thirty days hath
September," there are several less known
rhymes that are often in the minds of certain
classes of men. There are the sailors' rules of
the road, of which the best known version is:

Both side lights you see ahead,
Port your helm and show your red.
Green to green and red to red,
Perfect safety. Go ahead.
If on your starboard red appear,
It is your duty to keep clear,
To act with judgment, think it proper
To port or starboard, back, or stop her.
Both in safety, but in doubt,
Always keep a good lookout.
In danger, with no room to turn,
Ease her, turn her, go astern.

And the rider's rule:

Keep up your head and your heart;
Your hands and your heels keep down;
Press your knees close to your horse's sides
And your elbows close to your own.

And the driver's (in England):

The law of the road is a paradox quite,
In riding or driving along;
If you go to the left, you are sure to go right,
If you go to the right, you are wrong.

And the schoolboy's Latin one about preposi-
tions governing the ablative:

A, ab, abs, absque, de,
Coram, palam, cum, ex, e,
Sine, tenus, pro, and prime.

Brewer, in his "Reader's Handbook," gives
a rhyme he composed for remembering the
"Seven Wise Men of Greece ":

First Solon, who made the Athenian laws;
While Chilo, in Sparta, was famed for his saws;
In Mil6tos did Thales astronomy teach;
Bias used in Pri6ne his morals to preach;


Cleobulos, of Lindos, was handsome and wise;
Mitylene againstt thralldom saw Pittacos rise;
Periander is said to have gained through his court
The title that Myson, the Chenian, ought.

And this for the Seven Wonders ":

The pyramids first, which in Egypt were laid;
Next, Babylon's garden for Amytis made;
Then Mausolos's tomb of affection and guilt;
,Fourth, the Temple of Dian, in Ephesus built;
The colossos of Rhodes cast in brass to the sun;
Sixth, Jupiter's statue by Phidias done;
The pharos of Egypt, last wonder of old,
Or palace of Cyrus cemented with gold.

In learning history a number of rhymes
have been used; but only one is fairly well
known. That is the one about the kings and
queens of England:

First William the Norman, then William his son,
Henry, Stephen, and Henry, then Richard and John.
Next Henry Third, Edwards One, Two, and Three;
Again, after Richard, three Henrys we see.
Two Edwards, third Richard, if rightly I guess,
Two Henrys, Sixth Edward, Queen Mary, Queen Bess,
Next Jamie the Scot; then Charles, whom they slew,
Then Oliver Cromwell,. another Charles, too;
Then James, called the Second, ascended the throne;
Then William and Mary, and William alone;
Then Anne, Georges four, fourth William, all passed -
God sent then Victoria-may she long be the last!

Now, this is a good rhyme in certain respects;
but it is open to several objections. First, it is
confusing to the memory, as there is nothing to
lead from one line to another excepting the
rhymes. Second, in order to get the full titles
of many of the sovereigns one must count their
order as in the cases of the two Edwards "
and "two Henrys." Third, there is no sug-
gestion of the different royal "houses "- a
matter often very important.
Now, here is a new one, only two lines longer,
in which I have tried to remedy these defects:
10







TWO NEW MEMORY-RHYMES.
After Williams First and Second, Henry and Stephen must be reckoned.
These Normans four, do not forget, bring in eight Plantagenet:
Henry Second, Richard, John, with Henry Third leading on
To the Edwards, One, Two, Three, and Richard Second eight, you see.
After come the three Lancaster, then three York kings each is master:
Fourth, Fifth, Sixth, the Henrys came; Fourth and Fifth of Edward's name;
Richard Third, at Bosworth slain, makes way for the Tudors' reign:
Henry Seven, Henry Eight, Sixth Edward, Mary, Bess" the Great.
Stuarts follow Good Queen Bess-James and Charles; then war's distress
Makes Oliver Cromwell England's Lord till Charles the Second is restored;
But James the Second soon gave way to William Third and Mary's sway.
She died; he reigned till came Queen Anne; next the Brunswick House began:
Georges, One, Two, Three, and Four; then William Fourth; yet none of yore
So long as Queen Victoria reigned, and none has truer glory gained.


I have found these lines easy to learn, and,
more important still in a memory-rhyme, easy
to recall when not quite committed to memory.
The first line gives all the Norman kings; the
third and fourth lines give the Plantagenet kings,
and end with a Richard. Lines five and six
give in two even divisions the three Lancastrian
and the three Yorkist kings, and also lead up to
a Richard. He suggests Bosworth, and this
leads to slain" and "Tudors' reign." The
Tudors just fill one line; and the peculiar use
of" Bess" suggests the beginning of the Stuart
lines, which (except for Cromwell, who is re-
called by war's distress rhyming to Bess ")
continue till the rhyme for Anne foretells the
Brunswick house began." The concluding
lines record the new fact that this year Vic-
toria attained the longest reign.
It is impossible to foretell the fate of a mem-
ory-rhyme. Only experience can determine
whether it will serve a useful purpose; but I
hope this one will be an aid in disentangling
the skein of Henrys, Edwards, and Williams
who have reigned in England.
There have been some attempts to make a
memory-rhyme of the Presidents, but none has
reached a wide circulation. Here is my attempt
to make a short bit of verse which, while it is
not absolute nonsense, is mainly intended to
give the initials of the Presidents' surnames in
their order. Hence all the initials are capitals:

We Are Just Men, Men All Judged Vast.
Held True, Praised Too; Few Put Brains Last.
Judged Great, Held Good; All Chiefs High Classed.


It is easier to pick flaws in this than to rem-
edy them in the same space. It is enough to
say that the lines are very easy to remember,
and that they enable one to name the Presi-
dents without much difficulty.
For convenience of comparison, here is the
list of names:
First line: Washington, Adams, Jefferson,
Madison, Monroe, Adams, Jackson, Van Buren.
Second line: Harrison, Tyler, Polk, Taylor,
Fillmore, Pierce, Buchanan, Lincoln. Third
line: Johnson, Grant, Hayes, Garfield, Arthur,
Cleveland, Harrison, Cleveland.
As for Mr. McKinley, he can be added with-
out difficulty by the youngest. There are eight
presidents in each line-so Lincoln was the
sixteenth. The two T's in the second line
may be confusing, but if you will remember
that Harrison was called Tippecanoe," Tip-
pecanoe and Tyler too" is a rhyme that will
put Tyler after Harrison, and Taylor after Polk.
Another and final rhyme which has long
served young whist players, but is now made
useless by the many new leads, is that which
is given by Pole, beginning:

If you the modern game of Whist would know
From this great principle its precepts flow.
Treat your own hand as to your partner's joined,
And play not one alone but both combined.

And so on; but my attempts to recall the lines
meant to regulate the leads during whist-play-
ing have usually been futile, for fear of keeping
the others waiting.










THE LETTER-BOX.


EDITORIAL NOTES.
OUR readers will be interested by the clever ballad,
"Triangular Tommy," written by Miss Carolyn Wells,
and its amusing illustrations. We print upon a smaller
scale, but in correct proportion, diagrams showing how
the pictures are to be made- each, it will be noticed,
contains all the pieces. The diagrams are not in regu-
lar order, but all the figures are shown. In the illus-
tration where 'Tommy" and "Teddy" are sitting down
to rest, one figure is merely a reversal of the other:


AN p


IN the Letter-Box" of the ST. N'ICHOLAs for Feb-
ruary, we published a letter from Mr. W. I-I. Nearpass
concerning the old Revolutionary soldier Jabez Rock-
well. Mr. C. F. Rockwell, of Honesdale, Pa., a grand-
son of Jabez Rockwell, writes to us to correct an error
of date and of name in Mr. Nearpass's letter, and we
gladly make the correction. The date of Lafayette's
last visit to this country should have been printed -.
and not 1829; and the name of one of the three old sol-
diers who walked with Jabez Rockwell from Milford,
Pa., to New York to see Lafayette, should have been
Samuel Whitehead, instead of Samuel Whittaker.
Mr. Rockwell adds, as an additional item of interest,


that the Rockwell family is the only one in which there
are three living children of a Revolutionary soldier."
These are the daughters of Jabez Rockwell: Mrs. Phcebe
Gainford, of Ellenville, N. Y., aged ninety-one, and Mrs.
Catherine Bowden and Mrs. Lucinda Valentine, of
Stroudsburg, Pa., both over eighty years of age.

AMERICAN SCHOOL, ATHENS, GREECE.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : The Ilissos rive b .. .but
a little rippling brook, became swollen a few days ago,
by one of the hardest rains Greece has seen, into a rush-
ing torrent, and carried away about one hundred houses
and damaged many more. Rumor put the number of
dead as high as one hundred and fifty; but the probable
number is about lifty.
The day after the rain my father and I went down to
the Pireus, which is the seaport of Athens. We went
through on the first train that had been able to make the
trip between Athens and the Pirmeus for forty-eight
hours; but we did not know that fact until we had al-
ready arrived in the Pirmeus.
After the rain the whole plain between Athens and
the Pireus was like an inland sea, and when we went
down on the train it had somewhat that aspect still.
One house, scarcely a month old, was all in ruins, and
the new woodwork was strewn about. We saw a hat
and numerous mattresses in tree-tops, floated there while
the flood was high, and left high and dry when the flood
had receded.
In one house some people woke up in the night to
find the floor all under water, and when they tried to get
out of the house they could not, because the doors were
swollen. They had to stay in water up to their necks
until they were rescued, fours hours later. Your in-
terested reader, GARDNER A. RICHARDSON.

WOODSBURG, L. I.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I would like to tell you about
my trip to the West Indies. My doctor and a lawyer
were going, and mama let me go with them. I was
away two weeks, and was not homesick once. I am
nearly ten years old, and it was the first time I was away
from home without mama, and she thought I would be;
but there w. r 1,'.. to see I did not have
time to get .. I I from Boston Novenm-
ber o1, with fine weather. After we had passed Cape
Cod Light we had to stop an hour to fix the boiler. The
next two days we had what the captain called fresh
breezes and head seas; and the doctor was very sen-
sick, the rest of us feeling bad.
We saw San Salvador Lighthouse Saturday night, the
4th, but the first land I saw was on ,Sf. 1 ;. ;. It
seemed all hills. Then some of the 3Bahama Islands.
My -*" ads: "Nov. 15. One Island. Two hills.
One I.1 h ."
We next passed around the long coast of Cuba, which
seems very hilly in places. Arrived at Port Antonio at
7 A. At. We landed, and took a long ride. Sailed at
noon, and arrived at Port Morant at 4 r. M., where ve
tool in bananas and oranges. Then we sailed to Mo-
rant Bay, where we took in more bananas and oranges
and also some cocoanuts. The crew worked all night.
We sailed for Kingston at 5 A. 1., and arrived there
at 8:30 A. M. We went for a 1-'-_ ride in the morning,
and in the afternoon we went to ".1 Miles' house. There
are multitudes of colored people in the West Indies,-


J








;i







C







I


i


/








THE LET'


it seemed to me a hundred to one white. At 5 P. M.
we started for Port Morant again, and then home. I
saw a great many flying-fishes and also some porpoises.
I liked thle captain, who told me a great many stories,
although I don't know whether he was in earnest in all
of them or not. I know I did not see all the animals
and things he said he had seen.
We brought home some cocoanuts just as they grow
in the West Indies and also a young cocoanut-tree,
which mama has in the dining-room. The bananas
down there are very sweet; and the trees and flowers
were lovely. I should like to go again.
TOWARD T. HEWLETT.


IERE is a very clever rhyme by a little girl nine years
old, who also drew the picture that illustrates it:


F~
70<


I -


N.


"IF ONLY-"
"OH, dear oh, dear said little Jim,
It always is this way!
If only that old wind would blow,
I 'd sail my kite to-day "
PAULINE JENKS.


GODERICH, ONTARIO.
l'i ST. NICHOLAS: We are two little Canadians,
and we thought we would like to write to tell you that
Ve- tri;..' you are the loveliest magazine that is published.
Fr .... the 20th to the 25th of the month we make re-
peated visits to see if you have come; and if you are
not here, you should see the faces we make.
There are two old cannons here with the date 1803
on them. They were brought here after the Crimean
War,- 1855. They are all banged and battered, and in
the center of each is carved a crown and the monogram
V R-at least, that is what we think it is. On all the
bolts is a funny little mark like this, /1\. We should like
very much to know what that means.
The place wve live in used to be an Indian settlement,
and was called Menesetung. Once some arrow-heads
were dug up on a farm near here. We wish we could
have seen them.
From your loving Canadian friends,
MAB1EL and CLAIRE.


TER-BOX. 613

The mark stamped on the bolts is no doubt the
"broad arrow," the sign of British Government stores.
It was originally, says The Century Dictionary, the cog-
nizance of Henry, Viscount Sidney, Earl of Romney, who
was Master-General of Ordnance from 1693 to 1702.



WE print with pleasure this little fairy story by a
young contributor:

THE FAIRY QUEEN'S BIRTHDAY.

THERE was a feud between the Sun and the Fairies.
What it was all about I don't quite know, and I don't
believe the Sun or the Fairies quite knew either. But
there was a feud, I say, between them, and they did not
forget it.
The Sun had decreed that ifany of the fairies were seen
by day, they should instantly become mortals. And this
to a fairy seemed very terrible. Now the Moon was the
fairies' friend and she issued a similar proclamation, say-
ing that if any of the sunbeams were seen by night, they
should become mortals. So the fairies kept their revels
by moonlight; and, as the first tints of coming dawn
touched the sky, scampered away to hide in some secret
dell till night should come.
The birthday of the Queen of the Fairies was always
celebrated with a great deal of splendor; it was kept for
a week, and the Moon always shone her brightest on this
occasion. The people on earth called it a Harvest Moon;
but the fairies knew that all its brightness was for their
Queen.
But it is the happenings of a certain birthday which I
am going to tell you about.
lWlen the Sun gave up his reign, on this day, he de-
scended as a great ball of fire ; for he had no other way
to show his anger.
The fairies had chosen a beautiful place for their re-
vels. It was in the heart of the forest; close by ran a
tiny brooklet, which the moonlight changed to silver. A
large mushroom, covered with a cloth of silver, formed
the throne. Soon the guests began to arrive: fairy
princes from the neighboring kingdoms, princesses, and
their attendants. Then came the Moon's messengers,
all with some gift for Queen Marguerite.
Last of all came the fairy Queen. In the far distance
were heard sounds as of the tinkling of silver bells.
Nearer and nearer it came; soon the sound of singing
was carried to the assembled guests by the summer
breeze; and next the Queen's attendants appeared, dan-
cing and swinging their stalks of bluebells as they came;
then the Queen, in her chariot of silver drawn by two
enormous fireflies. The Queen was dressed in a gown
of pure white, embroidered with diamonds. Her favor-
ite attendant, Amaryllis, sat beside her, dressed in a
gown of pink gauze, caught on the shoulder with a sin-
gle star, silver, like every other ornament among the fair-
ies, since gold, the Sun's color, was forbidden. After the
Queen had alighted she was escorted to her throne,
where she was presented with the gifts, which were
many and beautiful. Then the merrymaking began, with
dances, games, and songs, and, in fact, everything that
could be devised to amuse Queen Marguerite.
When the revelers grew tired, they were served with
sherbets and cakes, which were passed around in cups
and saucers made of acorns. By and by the Queen her-
self grew tired; and then the guests departed, each accept-
ing an invitation for the following evening. Marguerite
then dismissed her attendants, excepting Amaryllis.
"Is your Highness very tired? she questioned.
"Yes," answered the Queen.







THE LETTER-BOX.


"Perhaps," said Amaryllis, "you could sleep if I had
your hammock swung here."
"If the dawn is not too near, I will," said the Queen,
looking toward the sky.
The Queen struck her wand on the ground, and soon
appeared a troop of spiders, who set busily to work to
weave a hammock of silver threads. It was soon com-
pleted, and the Queen sank wearily into it.
Amaryllis sat near, singing:

"Softly the shades of night
Fold round my Queen.
May she by mortal eyes
Never be seen.
Lest it should injure her
Let none draw nigh;
Friends of the forest,
Join in her lullaby."
Finishing, she rose, and, making sure that the Queen
was fast asleep, she took the wand from the fingers that
loosely clasped it, and slipped noiselessly away. Turning
once, she said, looking on the sleeping Queen: Sleep
well, my lady, for you shall not wake till the first streak
of dawn, and then, without your wand, you are power-
less. To-morrow night Ishall be queen!" and laughing
heartlessly, she ran away.
The Queen slept on, unmindful that the Moon had sunk
behind the hill, unmindful of the feathered songsters
who gathered about her, trying in vain to wake her be-
fore the Sun should rise.
Soon the Sun's great gold chariot was seen ascending
the sky. Very soon he discovered the poor little Queen,
who was queen no longer, and choosing the swiftest of
his sunbeams, sent him to wake her. As the little sun-
beam crept over Marguerite's forehead, she slowly opened
her eyes; unused to the glare and brightness, she started
up, calling to the faithless Amaryllis. She soon sawwhat
had happened, and cried to the Sun for mercy; but he
only laughed, and drove his gold chariot higher in the
sky. She looked at her dress; the diamonds changed
to dewdrops, quickly melted before the Sun's fierce gaze,
and the rich material of her dress had become the com-
monest of cotton stuff. Stooping toward the brook, she
saw withjoy that her face remained unchanged, and that
she was as beautiful as ever. She sank down on the
mossy bank. "What shall I do? she murmured.
"Follow my course," said the babbling brook.
"Follow me on from nook to nook,
Until the Moon rises o'er yonder hill.
Then, little Queen, make known your will."

Marguerite started up joyfully, and followed the brook's
course, as bidden, till, growing hungry, she stooped to-
ward the brook, and said, Little brook, I am hungry;
what shall I eat?"
"In the thicket hard by,
Some berries you '11 spy;
Those you may eat
For they are very sweet,"
responded the brook. After Marguerite had eaten the
berries, she fell asleep; and when she awoke, it was to
find the kindly face of the Moon peeping at her through
the trees. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. The ad-
ventures of the day seemed like some terrible dream;
but, no, it was true. She still wore the cotton dress,
and was still unattended.
Friend Moon," she said,'" tell me what shall I do ?
Amaryllis has stolen my wand, and you know that who-
ever possesses that wand has all power, even to make
my most faithful attendants forget me. I wish to regain
my kingdom, but how shall I do it? "


The Moon looked at her thoughtfully for a few min-
utes, then answered: To-night will be only the second
of the celebration of your birthday. Do not attempt to
return to-night, but sleep here, and I will guard you.
To-morrow, follow the course of the brook back the
way you came; but take care no one sees you. When
you reach the place where the revels are to be held,
hide till night. Then, when the revelry is at its height,
come forward. Amaryllis will not recognize you, but,
thinking you are some peasant girl who has lost her
way, will ask if you can sing. Answer, 'Yes'; and
after you have finished she will be so pleased that she
will promise to grant you any favor you may ask. Ask
her to let you hold, for a second only, the silver wand
which she has in her hand. She will be frightened;
but, as a fairy never breaks a promise, she will give it to
you, little thinking that you know how to use it. As
soon as you have it, wish yourself Queen again. You
may then punish Amaryllis as you think wise. Now
good night, and good luck to you, Marguerite! and,
smiling kindly, the Moon sank out of sight.
Marguerite did as the Moon advised. The next day
she found her way back to the fairies' appointed place.
No one saw her, and, creeping into the thicket near by,
she hid herself till nightfall, when all happened as the
Moon had predicted. Amaryllis asked Marguerite to
sing, promising to grant any reward she would ask; and
as Marguerite finished, she made her request. Amaryllis
was at first very much frightened, but one of her attend-
ants whispered that a poor peasant girl could not possi.
bly know what the wand was, since she called it simply
a rod. Then Amaryllis, laughing, gave her the wand,
asking what good it would do her to hold it.
Marguerite soon showed not only Amaryllis, but all
the assembled guests, why she wished the wand; and,
as soon as the other fairies saw and realized the disloy.
alty of Amaryllis, no punishment seemed enough for her.
Some wished her banished, and others--but it would
take too long to tell all the punishments they wished to
inflict on poor Amaryllis, who knelt at the Queen's feet,
beseeching her forgiveness. The Queen quite forgave
Amaryllis, and after this the reveling went on as before.
As the Queen had forgiven her, the other fairies, at the
request of the Queen, also forgave her. And every night
for the rest of the week the Moon's jovial face lit up the
evening parties.
Next day the Sun did not appear at all, but hid his
sulking face behind the clouds. And the people on
earth said: We are going to have rain."
ELSIE C. H. DE FESTETICS.

WE have received pleasant letters from the young
friends whose names follow: Jack Miller, John Alden
Hall, Adele R. Hager, Eleanor E. Butler, Frank D. T.,
Edward Taylor, Harriet Meng and Mildred Clune,
Gladys Childers, Philip Burt Fisher, Robert P. Law-
rence, Clarence Barfoot, Yvonne Emma Shepard, Emma
Sweet Danoe, Edwin Clark, Lillian N. Morris, Mary
Wormser, W. P. S., Paul Nathaniel Pittenger, Eleanor
Whidden, Kathleen Grey, Ethel Fisher, Catherine E.
Victory, Edward Bell, Sydney Eadie, Robert Mills,
E. Davies, Helen Jewell, Imogen Clark, Lily Page, Cecy
Hall, Bertie B. Regester, B. C. Hall, M. Coleman,
Frank J. Lange, Alice Louise Hope, Edith Knowles,
Helen McCurdy, Fannie M. O'Brien, Katharine Keeler,
Margery W., Mary F. Crosby, Mary Isabel Brooks,
Harriet Ainley, Maude E. Wallace, Antoinette H., Edith
Rose Moore, Clark Hulings, Lucille Rosenberg, Chester -"
Sumner, Charles S. Baxter, Mary S. Aylett, Laurence
E., Louise Reid, Josephine L. M. Hungerford, Eric M.
N., Harry Sargeant, Louise Rice, Madeline S. French, 1
Constance Stowell, Mildred H. and Evelyn S., Gertrude
Hicks, Ethel D.


614






















ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE APRIL NUMBER.


WORD-SQUARE: I. Rites. 2. Inert. 3. Tenor. 4. Erode. 5. TRIPLE ACROSTIC. From I to xI, W. M. Thackeray; 12 to 22,
Strew.-- CHARADE. Trip-li-cate. Henry Esmond; 23 to 33, The Newcomes. From I to 12, worth;
ILLUSTRATED FINAL ACROSTIC. Keats. i. Clock. 2. Bugle. 2 to 13, Maine; 3 to 14, train; 4 to 15, Homer; 5 to 16, always; 6
3. Llama. 4. Cleat. 5. Mavis. to 17, crime; 7 to I8, keeps; 8 to r9, Etham; 9 to 20, ratio; so to
CONNETE SQUARES. Sail Acre. 2, adorn; to 22, yield; 12 to 23, Hamlet; 13 to 24, enrich; 14
CONNECT SQUARES. Late. Sai. 2 Acre 3. Iris. 4. Lest. to 25, nestle; 15 to 26, retain; 16 to 27, yaffle; 17 to 28, eschew;
II. i Isle. 2 Stay. 3. Late. 4. Eyed. III. I. Tear. 2. Edge. i8 to 29, scenic; 19 to 30, merino; 20 to 31, Oldham; 21 to32, na-
3. Ages. 4. Rest. ive; 22 to 33, droves.
NUERICAL ENIGMA. is bright,- the air is clear, DOUBLE ACROSTIC. Primals, Pollux; finals, Castor. Cross-
The darting swallows soar and sing, words: I. Physic. 2. Odessa. 3. Labors. 4. Latest. 5. Ultimo.
And from the stately elms I hear 6. Xyster.
The bluebird prophesying Spring. ILLUSTRATED ZIGZAG. Carlyle. i. Cake. 2. Lace. 3. Harp:
GEOGRAPHICAL FINAL ACROSTIC. Seine. I. Paris. 2. Rhine. 4. Ball. 5. Keys. 6. Clam. 7. Ewer.
3. Delhi. 4. Oregon. 5. France. DOUBLE DIAMOND. I. Across: i. C. 2. Cid. 3. Latin. 4.
CONNECTED SQUARES. I. Cloth. Levee. Ovens. 4. Cabinet. 5. Dazed. 6. Led. 7. N. II. Across: M. 2. Rat.
Tents. 5. Hesse. II. l Ducat. 2. Ukase. 3. Cabin. 4. Aside. 3 Canes. 4. Jacanas. 5. Petty. 6. Des(k) 7. .IIL Across:
5. Tenet. III. a. Eclat. 2. Chide. 3. Linen. 4. Adept. 5. .L. 2. Led. 3. Raved. 4. Revered. 5. Derry. 6. Rey. 7. T.
Tents. IV. i. Treat. 2. Ranch. 3. Ennui. 4. Acute. 5. Thief. POETICAL ENIGMA. Cook, Browning, Burns, Moore, Words-
V. i. Sinew. 2. Inane. 3. Nasal. 4. Enact. 5. Welts. worth, Lowell, Hood.
To OUR PUZZLERS: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the x5th of each month, and should
be addressed to ST. NICHOLAS Riddle-Box," care of THE CENTURY CO., 33 East Seventeenth St., New York City.
ANSWERS TO ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE FEBRUARY NUMBER were received, before February 15th, from L. O. E.- M. McG.-
"Jersey Quartette."
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE FEBRUARY NUMBER were received, before February i5th, from Helen W. Smith, T-F. Jock, i-
John C. Dallas, i- Charles Smith, I Alsie," x Ruth Metcalf, i Paul Reese, 5 Jean H. Frewsmith and Aline L. Peters, 2-
August Blochley, i G. B. B., I Willie Kieman, 4- Louise Ruggles, i-Jessie M. Valdez, -Josie Valdez, Mildred H.
Schrenkeisen, 2 Mary K. Rake, 3 Maude Gladwin, 2- Herr Yci Revir," 3- Frederic G. Foster, 2 Ethel M. Farrell, i No
name, Savannah, 3 Dick Rice, I The H. Twins," i -" Qui Legit Regit," 3 Marjorie S., I Katie Richardson, I Robert Par-
ker, 6- Honor Bright," No name, Canton, Pa., 2 -" Puzzled Puzzler," 4 The Trio,"7 Nathan Newman, 2 Robert and
Sarah, 4 -Ada M. Burt, 8 -E. T. W., 2 -Allil and Adi, 13 -Lee Underhill, 9 Emily R. Henderson, 4 Emily Solis Cohen, ii-
Stephen and his friends, 13- Glenn K. Dorrington, 4 Helen Lorraine Enos, 3 -" Class No. i9," 6-Marguerite Sturdy, x I- Bessie
Thayer, 12 Florence and Edna, 4 -Joe and 1, 13- Agatha S. Craik, I- Paul Rowley, 13- No name, Savannah, i- G. B. Dyer, io -
"Merry and Co., 6 Clara Anthony, Io-Daniel Hardin and Co., uo- Mabel M. Johns, 13 Irving Olds, 2- Herbert Bloch and
Leopold Levy, 2-Roger Hale Wellington, io--Edwin Clark, 3-Herbert S. Gelpcke, 4- Uncle Will, Fannie, and E. Everett, 7 -
Sigourney Fay Nininger, in -Herman Rabing, 2.


WORD SQUARES.

I. I. To acquire. 2. A religious superior. 3. A
wading bird. 4. The surname of a famous caricaturist.
II. I. A common metal. 2. A kind of seed fed to
cage-birds. 3. A precious stone. 4. A feminine nick-
name.
III. I. A horned animal. 2. A vegetable. 3. One
of a swarthy race. 4. Parts of a head-dress.
ELISE WALKER.
CHARADE.

My first voracious is, and fierce;
My second holds him fast;
My whole, though found mid rugged rocks,
Shines bright and fair at last. E. B. H.

NUMERICAL ENIGMA.

I AM composed of eighty-eight letters, and am a quo-
tation from one of the greatest of writers.
My 42-3-13-34 is a table for the use of students. My
17-47-30-24-32-64 is easy. My 25-18-70-33-65 is im-
plied, but not expressed. My 19-61-71-50-59 is to push
forward. My 85-83-44-31 is lofty. My 4-9-37-51-79 is
a feminine name. My 86-7-16-23 is the god of love. My
87-48-40-81-46-54-72-43-74 is without a name. My Io-
53-12-57-78 is to shelter under a roof. My 2-82-21-66-
39 is a kind of grain. My 75-73-62-36 is upright. My


58-8-69-67 is to shed tears. My 1-77-38-41-22 is to take
an oath. My 45-6-88-63 is a woman of refined manners.
My 28-29-49-76-55-56-84 is frightful. My 15-11-60 is
often crossed. My 20-35-68-80-5-26 is truth. My 52-
14-27 is recent. MARIAN J. HOMANS.

CONNECTED TRIANGLES.


-0 JC
* {


I. UPPER TRIANGLE: I. Evident. 2. Slender. 3.
To take food. 4. An article. 5. In leather.
II. MIDDLE TRIANGLE: I. Distinguished. 2. A
color. 3. Part of the head. 4. A common article. 5.
In leather.
III. LOWER TRIANGLE: I. To speak profanely. 2.
To alienate the affections of. 3. To corrode. 4. A
common little word. 5. In leather. H. w. E.


'DR _DAT LE
Lr\







THE RIDDLE-BOX.


RHYMED NUMERICAL ENIGMA.

His 3-2-1-4 was sad, his garments poor;
He shivered 2-I the pavement wet;
He showed me 3-4-1 fine fish he said
He 'd caught that morning with his 1-4-3.
"And 1-2-3-4 how fine they are he cried;
Will you 1-2-3 buy 2-1'4, Miss ?" I sighed;
"Not if you had a 3-2-1," I said,
And 3-2 my home I quickly sped.
(I had 1-2 money, you must know,
And that was why I left him so.)
ERLMAH L. P.

ILLUSTRATED PRIMAL ACROSTIC.








I4
--- -:.


a 'S


EACH of the five small pictures may be described
by a single word. When these words have been rightly
guessed, andplaced one below another, in the order in
which they are numbered, the initial letters will spell
the name of a distinguished American.

CENTRAL ACROSTIC.

ALL of the words described contain the same number
of letters. When rightly guessed, and placed one below
another, the central letters will spell the surname of a
well-known author.
CROSS-WORDS: I. A famous battle fought in 1870.
2. A name borne by many kings. 3. An evil spirit. 4.
Little. 5. Capable of flowing. 6. A fragment. 7. To
urge on. 8. To extort by violence. 9. To get the
better of. J. M. DOHAN.
RHYMING BLANKS.

(THE missing words all rhyme with the first missing
word.)
As the king rode along on his steed, an old ,
who had been sitting on a waiting for him, ran
forward, and with many a and told him of her
wrongs. The wind had her gray hair into disor-
der, and the shawl that she had over her shoulders
was torn and ragged. Her distress as she fell on


the earth before him, and the sad in which she told
her pitiful tale, soon touched the king's heart.
"Oh, be merciful, your Majesty! she exclaimed;
"for you only can help me, a poor -- woman. I had
two sons of my but now I have- One has
been down by the reaper Death, and the other has
been cruelly exiled to the.frigid for a crime he never
committed. I have feeble in his absence, and have
worked my fingers to the to get food, but I can do
it no longer."
The king's face with pity and kindness. "You
shall have gold," he said; an ounce for every on
yonder pine-tree, and your son shall be recalled."
Thankfully the woman rose from the ground on which
autumn leaves were and exclaimed, May blessings
come to you, as many in number as the birds that have
- into this tree Then the king rode on to his
palace and ascended the to attend to the affairs of
state. ALICE I. HAZELTINE.

CONNECTED SQUARES.


I. UPPER LEFT-HAND SQUARE: I. A geometrical
figure. 2. A sign. 3. To require. 4. Extremities.
II. UPPER RIGHT-HAND SQUARE: I. Small animal,
2. A chill. 3. Air. 4. Observed.
III. CENTRAL SQUARE: I. Transgressions. 2. A
fancy. 3. Low. 4. Undermines.
IV. LOWER LEFT-HAND SQUARE: I. Long periods
of time. 2. A small insect. 3. Comfort. 4. To make
progress against.
V. LOWER RIGHT-HAND SQUARE: I. Discerned. 2.
Extreme verge. 3. Urges on. 4. A cosy place.
MARJORIE W. D.

'S DIAMOND.

I. IN subordinate. 2. An insect. 3. A poet, .
An animal. 5. In subordinate. "HERCULES."

WHO WERE THEY?

I. WHO was called "Well-beloved ?
2. Who was called "The Just" ?
3. Who was called "The Black Prince" ?
4. Who was called "The Apostate "?
5. Who was called The Protector ?
6. Who was called The Little Corporal ?
7. Who was called The Venerable ?
8. Who was called "The Tyrant "?
9. Who was called Queen of the East ? "
10. Who was called The Golden-mouthed "?
II. Who was called Longshanks ?
12. Who was called "The Lion-hearted "?
13. Who was called Rufus? Why?
14. Who was called The Bloody Queen ?
15. Who was called "The Madman of the North "
16. Who was called "The Semiramis of the North"
17. Who was called "The Great Reformer ?
18. Who was called "The Father of his Country"?
JOSEPHINE POLLARD.


THE DE VINNE PRESS, NEW YORK.


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