• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Frontispiece
 Front Matter
 How grandmother met the Marquis...
 A summer picture
 The last of the drums
 Growth
 Home measurements
 Master skylark
 Aunt Portia and the boys
 The sprite of the hilltop
 The Chesapeake Hill
 When we go fishing
 Hunting for shells
 A marvel
 Lost his pocket-knife
 An anecdote of Lincoln
 The little drummer of the...
 Oh, Mr. Fairy, please
 The last three soldiers
 Girlhood days of England's...
 Honors to the flag in camp and...
 Miss Nina Barrow
 A fatuous flower
 The round glass pitcher
 Brownies of the insect world
 The good behavior of Nancy Lee
 From our scrap-book
 The old tin sheep
 The button family
 Report upon the prize puzzle, "a...
 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/UF00065513/00327
 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: VID00327
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
    Frontispiece
        Frontispiece 1
        Frontispiece 2
        Page 706
    Front Matter
        Front Matter
    How grandmother met the Marquis de Lafayette
        Page 707
        Page 708
    A summer picture
        Page 709
    The last of the drums
        Page 710
        Page 711
        Page 712
        Page 713
        Page 714
    Growth
        Page 715
    Home measurements
        Page 716
    Master skylark
        Page 717
        Page 718
        Page 719
        Page 720
        Page 721
        Page 722
        Page 723
        Page 724
        Page 725
        Page 726
        Page 727
    Aunt Portia and the boys
        Page 728
    The sprite of the hilltop
        Page 729
    The Chesapeake Hill
        Page 730
    When we go fishing
        Page 731
    Hunting for shells
        Page 732
        Page 733
        Page 734
        Page 735
    A marvel
        Page 736
    Lost his pocket-knife
        Page 737
    An anecdote of Lincoln
        Page 738
        Page 739
    The little drummer of the woods
        Page 740
        Page 741
        Page 742
        Page 743
        Page 744
    Oh, Mr. Fairy, please
        Page 745
    The last three soldiers
        Page 746
        Page 747
        Page 748
        Page 749
        Page 750
        Page 751
    Girlhood days of England's queen
        Page 752
        Page 753
        Page 754
        Page 755
        Page 756
        Page 757
        Page 758
        Page 759
    Honors to the flag in camp and armory
        Page 760
        Page 761
        Page 762
    Miss Nina Barrow
        Page 763
        Page 764
        Page 765
        Page 766
        Page 767
        Page 768
        Page 769
    A fatuous flower
        Page 770
        Page 771
    The round glass pitcher
        Page 772
        Page 773
        Page 774
        Page 775
        Page 776
    Brownies of the insect world
        Page 777
        Page 778
        Page 779
    The good behavior of Nancy Lee
        Page 780
        Page 781
    From our scrap-book
        Page 782
        Page 783
    The old tin sheep
        Page 784
    The button family
        Page 785
        Page 786
    Report upon the prize puzzle, "a century of presidents"
        Page 787
    The letter-box
        Page 788
        Page 789
        Page 790
    The riddle-box
        Page 791
        Page 792
    Back Matter
        Back Matter
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
    Spine
        Spine
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1OH, MONSIEUR,' I SAID, YOU KISSED YOUR OWN FACE!'"
(SEE PAGE 70Q.)
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ST. NICHOLAS.


VOL. XXIV.







'- GR,% -


JULY, 1897.


t ~~RQUIS -


(A true sioiy.)


By ELLA SHEARMAN PARTRIDGE.


"YEs, dear; it is a queer-looking old glove
with that little portrait on the back; and you
are quite right in saying that it is a picture
of the Marquis de Lafayette. It is just sev-
enty-two years ago this year that I wore that
glove with its mate at the ball -given by the
city of Philadelphia in honor of the return of
the Marquis, who was visiting again the coun-
try he had helped many years before to wrest
from the King of England.
The whole country went quite wild with en-
thusiasm over the brave young man who had
proved himself to be such a trusty friend to
our beloved Washington; and when my hon-
ored father came home from the court-house
one afternoon, and told mother to get the girls'


dresses ready for the ball, and to spare no ex-
pense, as there might be a possibility of one of
them being chosen by the Marquis for a dance
or a promenade, my little heart beat high
with anticipation. But, alas! I was reminded
that I was only a very small child,--only twelve
years old,- and as I could not even make a
proper courtesy, I would certainly have to
stay at home. So I accepted my bitter dis-
appointment as a necessity, and watched the
great preparations made by the rest of the
family with much interest and not a little envy.
"The girls practised their steps dutifully, and
made graceful courtesies before the long mir-
rors in the drawing-room, until I could stand it
no longer; and I rushed away to the prim old


Copyright, x897, by THE CENTURY Co. All rights reserved.


No. 9.


~zP~-~ilR






HOW GRANDMOTHER MET THE MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE.


garden, and there, in the privacy of that retreat,
I bobbed and bowed, imitating the sweet
smiles and coy glances I had watched so
closely in the house. Then, when I felt that
I could bow and smile at the same time, not
forgetting the one in the exertion required for
the other, I stole quietly into father's study,
and climbing up on the arm of his chair, I
coaxed to be allowed to go. I finally
assured him that I could make
a most beautiful courtes-y,
and I showed him.
To my great de-
light, he caught
me in his arms,
and laughing
merrily, he _
cried :
You shall
certainly go to
the ball; and if
the Marquis can
resist that-that
salutation, he
is not a French-
man!'
"The girls
field at me
when they
knew it; but
my dear little
mother had a
simple mus-
lin made
for me, in
which, with ".
the dainty rosebud ..
trimming, I felt quite as
fine as my sisters in their
gorgeous silks and their pow-
dered hair; and, to make my happi-
ness complete, just before we started for
the ball mother gave each of us a pair of
white kid gloves with the portrait of the Mar-
quis de Lafayette printed on the back. And
the one you are holding is the one -but wait,
I am going too fast.
"Ah, I can see him now, with his courtly
grace and elegant manner, as he bent low
over the hand of every lady presented to him;


and I watched curiously to see if he noticed
the decoration on their gloves: but he did not
seem to at all.
"I had been placed in the corner of the
room, and was told to keep very quiet, as it



'y


I..


"IN THE PRIM OLD GARDEN I BOBBED AND BOWED."

was a most unusual thing for young folks to
appear in so public a place. So after the


708


[JULY,


r '.,,. "
*. -4

&Za


A






HOW GRANDMOTHER MET THE MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE.


dancing began I looked eagerly at couple
after couple as they glided slowly past me,
marveling at the magnificent gowns, the gaiety
of it all, and keeping time with my restless
slippered feet to the rhythm of the music.
Presently, before I could notice who they
were, two gentlemen stepped just in front of
me, and began discussing the beautiful scene
before them. When, quite accidentally, I caught
a glimpse of the face of one of them, and saw
it was the Marquis, I uttered an exclamation of
delight at being able to see him so closely. I
think he must have heard me, for he turned
quickly, and noticing that he was obstructing
my view of the room, came hastily toward me,
and holding out his hand, said:
"' Mademoiselle, a thousand pardons! I
did not see you. And I really believe I have
not yet been presented to you. Permit me.'
And with that he raised my hand to his lips
and kissed it. I barely remembered in time


the courtesy that I had practised so long in the
garden, to the edification of the box-trees and
holly-bushes; but, as he kissed the glove, a mis-
chievous idea caused me to smile, and he asked:
"' What amuses mademoiselle ? '
"'Oh, monsieur,' I said, with a little laugh,
'you kissed your own face!' and I showed him
the portrait on my glove, which he regarded
gravely.
"' What a mistake!' he remarked; and, look-
ing down at me quizzically, he added, I must
correct it.'
"Then then well, I was only a little
girl, you know; and yes, you may kiss me too,
if you like. It was right on this cheek";- and
after all these years grandmother's face flushed
prettily at the remembrance.
"And my father always insisted it was the
courtesy which made the Marquis dare to do
it; and that thereby he only proved himself to
be the most gallant of Frenchmen."


A SUMMER PICTURE.

By ALBERT BIGELOW PAINE.

THE grass is green upon the hill;
The sea is blue below.
Beneath the summer sky we watch
The white sails come and go.

And some are sails of sturdy ships
That roam the ocean o'er,
And some of little pleasure-boats
That hover near the shore.

And I, so old and full of care,
Am like the ships that roam;
While you, a little pleasure craft,
Are safer near at home.

The grass is green; and blue the sea;
The boats go sailing by;
And no one here but you and me,
And overhead the sky.


709














1 -


r-I t


THINK few know that of all the
time-honored equipment of war
which these days of military
progress have left to us, the
drum is the oldest; but, like
the sword and the bayonet, the drum is fast
disappearing. Its companion the fife, hallowed
by traditions of valor even in our own history,
from Lexington to Gettysburg, is already gone,
and another decade will still forever the inspirit-
ing martial music of the drum.
What boy has not felt his pulses thrill and
his heart swell with patriotic pride and martial
ardor while gazing upon the well-known picture
of the Revolution, the Minute Men of '76 "
forsaking the plowshare and flying to take down
the old flintlock at the tocsin of war-the
throbbing of the drum and the shrill screaming
of the fife, sounded by two scarred veterans,
bare-headed, white-haired, and in their shirt-
sleeves, marching through fields and along the
roads, calling the patriots to arms!
Every New England schoolboy has read


2', BY CON MARRAST PERKINS,
r ii f First Lieutenant United States Marine
Corps.


v the story of Abigail and Eliza-
beth, the sisters of Newburyport,
who during the Revolution re-
:pelled i.nre an attack of the British by beating
fiinoul:,lsl an old drum and blowing a fife.*
The Eru;hli troops, who were about to land,
ihurrlid bI.-ck to their ships, thinking a whole
jrnm liyv in ambush to repulse them!
Tliii ldid a fife and a drum drive off the en-
enmy, .ni:l -ave a town from pillage and ruin.
The military drum is supposed to have been
introduced in Europe by the Moors and Sara-
cens, during the middle ages, and was quickly
adopted by armies. The drum of to-day differs
little, and in appearance only, from the earliest
form. It consists, as every boy knows, of two
pieces of parchment, or batter-heads, stretched
over the ends of a hollow cylinder, and struck
with sticks. For ages this instrument has been
known among savage tribes and barbaric na-
tions, who use its weird music to accompany
their religious rites, as well as for war purposes.
The tom-tom of the Sioux Indian is a good
example of a primitive drum.
In civilized warfare the drum has ever been
connected with deeds of martial valor, and its
voice is dear to the heart of the soldier who
has followed its pulsing into the deadly fire
of battle, or even in reviews and military par-
ades, when rank upon rank sweep up a street
keeping perfect alignment and step to the
drum's inspiring beat.
It has found a place in history through the
daring bravery of more than one beardless boy
who has sounded at the critical moment the


* The story is told in ST. NICHOLAS for July, 1874.
710






THE LAST OF THE DRUMS.


fas de charge or "rally just in time to turn
the tide of battle.
Johnny Clem, the drummer-boy of Shiloh,"
who beat the rally without orders when his
regiment had broken, panic-stricken, and thus
helped to save th. .:a:,. .,ai ml..ie :ini .:r'ii r I'.:r
his heroism, and i a nia.:i in the United,
States army.
In fable, song, and 1i to:,r rime drium li e.cer
kept pace with the n.1:l-t '.iiiani deed-: -l1
men. Rudyard Kiplui': 'l,.tIler c ittle
story of "The Drutms .:- the F.*r,: and
Aft," two coura c.._,us .-iri.iLn r-bl: .
who, at the cost :F tl .il i .i r .n li\ s.
led the charge and -i\ved the
honor of their :egi minct i-hen
routed by the Afgl.iw, tells i:I.
a deed such as is t:, ie I.:u.nl ,.
in history as well s iin .:iit .n. .
More than once 1as the drum l
claimed a place in the lr.:'nt
rank of storming lariai.
ions, or led despc r-
ate charges in the
van of a victori-
ous army. I
What wonder,
then, that we look
sorrowfully into
the future, when
battling will no '.
longer be in-
spired by the
war drum's
throb"; for we
know that the
advance of mili-
tary science, with
all its death-deaihng,
machine-guns, mag-.,inr-
rifles and its smo:.:ele-, .po-:.i..:. ,\iil
surely sound the Ikriel of thie drinum.
Ten years ago thle Fr'.:i!i, ;irniy
whose imperial legions under Ney, Soult, and
Macdonald, Napoleon's most valorous mar-
shals, had so often been led to victory by the
drum, decided to abolish it.
It is related that upon news of the decree of
the Minister of War reaching the army, a vet-


eran drummer of Napoleon's Old Guard, who,
as a boy, had sounded the pas de charge at
Austerlitz and Jena, died of a broken heart.

S/.";


THE DRUMMER-BOY'S DREAM.


The Emperor himself dearly loved the rataplan
of the drum, and is said always to have had the
reveille beaten to awaken him each morning.
Of all the regular organizations in the United






THE LAST OF THE DRUMS.


States rvi. the \.ii:t ti t':'Ii-i~, ihe t oi ld,:J t.
last retAIri the drum -ind th::i.i.tl i i -t i :urelh
doomed in the future as a relic of barbarism,"
still wherever the stars and stripes float over a
vessel of our navy abroad can yet be heard the
drum's inspiriting roll.
In the navy as well as in the army the drum
is hallowed and glorified by traditions of vic-
tory; and from the day Paul Jones ran up the
first flag of our country, with its liberty-tree and
its motto, "An Appeal to Heaven," down to
the present, a man-of-war's drummer, though
the smallest mite on board, has always played
an important part in the daily routine of our
nation's floating bulwarks.
From the rolling of "gun bright-work" in
the morning, and the long-drawn, solemn beat


to' "- -jartrcr," t: d..
last incident of the
day,-"taps," or"ex-
tinguish lights,"-the
drum retains its THE MIDNIGHT BEAT TO
drum retains its T "QUARTERS."
place here; and the
little Marine-drummer, with his baby face and
red coat, is the last to carry his drum
proudly at the head of marching men, and
to blend its martial rattle with the blare of
the trumpet, which has usurped the place of
the fife.
These boys are enlisted at Washington, and
are taught in the music-school at Marine
headquarters, after which they are drafted to
the several Marine stations at navy-yards, or


712


[JULY,






THE LAST OF THE DRUMS.


distributed to vessels in commission all over the
world.
They are enlisted at from fourteen to sixteen
years of age, and are bound over to serve in
the Marine Corps until twenty-one, when they
are honorably discharged.
While serving on men-of-war, they swing in
hammocks and mess with the Marine Guard,
and in all respects are treated as if they are
men; in action they serve at the great guns as
powder-boys,-" powder-monkeys" as they are
sometimes called. The duty of a powder-boy is
to pass charges from the magazine to the battery.
Drummers are distinguished from the
private soldiers of the Marine Guard in
full-dress uniform by a scarlet tunic
with white facings and shoulder '
knots the only dress in our
service like the. traditional -
red coat of "Tommy At-
kins," the British soldier,
which has been worn by -
the army for nearly
three hundred years.
As a joke upon this
distinctively un-Am-
erican uniform, it is
related that when the
British were seen ap-
proaching Bladens-
burg, during the war
of 1812, a wag in (i-
the American ranks
shouted," Great Scott!
boys, here comes the
music. I guess I
won't wait for the
army /"
The pay of the
drummer was the
same as that of a.
private-$13.oo per %
month, with rations
and clothing, and the
right to be sent back
to the place of enlist- TH
ment without cost to
themselves, when the .time of service is ended.
Let me describe a little incident to show
the use of the drum on board a man-of-war.
VOL. XXIV.- 90.


The ship is lying at anchor in a distant port;
it is night, and nothing is heard but the tramp
of the sentry on the forecastle and the ripple of
water at the gangway.
Only the officer of the deck, the quarter-
master, and the guard are awake. The entire
crew are below decks and dreaming in their
hammocks.
The cabin door opens, and the captain steps
forth softly, fully dressed, and wearing his sword
and revolver. He speaks in a low tone to the
officer of the deck, who sends an orderly for-
ward with a message. In a moment the orderly


E MARINE GUARD-SUNDAY INSPECTION.


returns bringing with him the drummer, who
stands silently at the mast, drumsticks in hand,
watching the commander.


713






THE LAST OF THE DRUMS.


Eight bells "- midnight is struck. At a
silent signal from the commanding officer, the
drummer poises his sticks an, instant, then
sounds the long roll, or "alarm," which is at
once followed by the quick beat to "general
quarters."
Instantly the scene changes to one of, ap-
parently, the utmost confusion. Four hun-
dred men leap from their hammocks; passing
a few turns of the
lashings around them,
they throw them into
their "nettings," then
spring to their stations
at the batteries, and
cast loose the guns.
A moment more,
and a bright flash
and roar from the
forecastle pivot gun
bursts upon the still-
ness and gloom of
the night, followed
quickly by the broad-
side battery.
Each gun is fired
once, a blank charge,
but enough to show

good order and ready
DRUMMER, MARINE GUARD. for service.
As suddenly the _pandemonium subsides;
confusion gives place to silence and order, and
not a sound is heard; but the battle-lanterns
flashing along the crowded deck reveal the
well-disciplined crew standing at their quarters,
every man equipped with cutlas and pistol,
silent and alert. Sponges, rammers, supply-
boxes, and battle axes litter the deck; every-
thing is provided and ready as for action; while
the captain, accompanied by the executive of-
ficer (the first lieutenant), with an orderly bear-
ing a lantern, makes a thorough inspection fore
and aft and below, including the powder-divi-
sion, magazines, and shell-rooms, to see that
nothing is lacking which would be required in
real action.
At the touch of the drum the ship has been
changed from deathlike stillness to readiness
for battle, every officer and man at his sta-


tion, armed, silent, expectant,- and all in less
than three minutes !
Truly, then, can it be wondered that after
generations of such experiences in real war, we
regret to give up the drum, at whose magic
touch such changes can be wrought? Could
the beating of a gong (more barbarous yet than
the drum), the ringing of a bell, or can even
the piercing notes of the bugle, quite fill its
place, and bring that same suppressed though
exhilarated excitement and readiness for action
to those who know its power ? I fear not.
There is in the notes of the drum something
unlike any other music in the world. How it
sets the heart to throbbing and the blood to
coursing through the veins, as it falls upon the
ear! To what stirring scenes has its beating
been the prelude, and what unspeakable sights
have men seen within the sound of its rolling!
In its music-there is something that sweeps
away the sluggishness of every-day life, and
gives a feeling that is akin to inspiration. No
matter whether it be the long roll, breathing
alarm as it is beaten by startled drummers in
the stillness of.the night, or the softer beats
when the snares are muffled and men march
with arms reversed and bowed heads behind
the bier of a comrade who has left the ranks
forever, the voice of the drum speaks to the
heart and thrills it with courage or sorrow.
Every one has at some time in life felt some-
thing within him stir in sympathy with the
drum. If one has ever heard it in the furious
beating of the "rally," when ranks are broken,
and regiments are fading away under fire, it is
something to remember through life-forever.
Perhaps it sets to glowing that spark of heroism
or savagery latent in every human breast, and
the spark that bursts forth into flame when men
grapple hand-to-hand for home and liberty.
What matters it if, as musicians say, its
music is barbarous so barbarous that it has
but one note ? After all, it is the music of the
soldier, whether it comes from the metal kettle-
drums glittering as they swing in the sun at the
head of close columns of helmeted men, or
from the tom-tom of savage tepees amidst the
cold snows and dark days of Northern winters,
or amidst cactus-covered desert sands glowing
with the fierce heat of tropic suns. Soldiers


[JULY,






THE LAST OF THE DRUMS.


and warriors all, be they red or white, love-
its fierce alarum, and not one will die the less
bravely for the dreams that the drummers and
their drums have conjured up.
The glory of the drum is passing away.
Of all the regular soldiers to-day, the Marines
are the last to keep a drum-corps as their
field music.
After a thousand years' service as the most
warlike instrument in the armies of Europe
and America, the drum must now take a sec-
ondary part; and with it will soon go the bay-


onet and the sword, those heroic relics of the
days when the ranks of foemen advanced to
look into one another's eyes before firing, or
waited for the inspiriting roll of the drum to
urge them to battle.
The drum will soon sound its own requiem.
With muffled snares and arms reversed, let us
sadly and sorrowfully follow it to the grave,
where with bended knee we reverently lay upon
it the laurel wreath of fame. The last volley
rings out its farewell tribute, and the bugle
sounds the soldiers' last good-night" !


GROWTH.

By SARAH E. WINSLOW.

I.
YES, build your dam as high as you can;
You think I 'm small, but I '11 tell you all
I '11 get over it over just so,
And make your wheel buzz down below.
You can't stop me while water flows;
I may be a river yet who knows?

II.
See how the brown mold over me sifts;
Bury me deeper neathh leaves in drifts;
Forget I 'm here, deep out of sight
Where it is dark- as dark as night.
You can't hide me while acorns grow:
I '11 be an oak-tree the next you know.

IIr.
Keep me in dresses and play I 'm a girl;
Keep my long hair nicely in curl:
But I 'm a boy--doubt that who can?
And some bright day I '11 be a man.
The world will know me that 's what I said;
For I 've a thinker in my head.



























"No, boys, no reworks this year.1

You burned the nest down last

summer with your ire-crackers!"


HOME MEASUREMENTS.

BY NELL KIMBERLY MCELHONE.

SISTER measured my grin one day;
Took the ruler and me;
Counted the inches all the way,-
One and two and three.
" Oh, you 're a Cheshire cat," said she.
Father said: That 's no sin."
Then he nodded and smiled at me -
Smiled at my three-inch grin.
Brother suggested I ought to begin
Trying to trim it down.
Mother said: Better a three-inch grin
Than a little half-inch frown."











MASTER SKYLARK.


By JOHN BENNETT.


[Begun in the November number.]

CHAPTER XXVII.
THE QUEEN'S PLAISANCE.
IT was a frosty morning when they all
marched down to the boats that bumped along
Paul's wharf.
The roofs of London were white with frost
and rosy with the dawn. In the shadow of
the walls the air lay in still pools of smoky
blue; and in the east the horizon stretched
like a swamp of fire. The winking lights on
London Bridge were pale. The bridge itself
stood cold and gray, mysterious and dim as
the stream below, but here and there along its
crest red-hot with a touch of flame from the
burning eastern sky. Out of the river, running
inland with the tide, came steamy shreds that
drifted here and there. Then over the roofs
of London town the sun sprang up like a thing
of life, and the veil of twilight vanished in
bright day with a million sparkles rippling on
the stream.
Warm with piping roast and cordial, keen
with excitement, and blithe with the sharp,
fresh air, the red-cheeked lads skipped and
chattered along the landing like a flock of
sparrows lit by chance in a land of crumbs.
"Into the wherries, every one!" cried the
old precentor. "Ad unum omnes, great and
small! "
"Into the wherries!" echoed the under-
masters.
"Into the wherries, my bullies!" roared old
Brueton the boatman, fending off with a rusty
hook as red as his bristling beard. "Into the
wherries, yarely all, and we '11 catch the turn o'
the tide! 'T is gone high water now!"
Then away they went, three wherries full,
and Master Gyles behind them in a brisk six-
penny tilt-boat, resplendent in new ash-col-


ored hose, a cloak of black velvet fringed
with gold, and a brand-new periwig curled and
frizzed like a brush-heap in a gale of wind.
How they had worked for the last few days!
New songs, new dances, new lines to learn;
gallant compliments for the Queen, who was
as fond of flattery as a girl; new clothes, new
slippers and caps to try, and a thousand what-
nots more. The school had hummed like a
busy mill from morning until night. And now
that the grinding was done and they had come
at last to their reward,-the hoped-for sum-
mons to the court, which had been sought so
long in vain,--the boys of St. Paul's bubbled
with glee until the under-masters were in a cold
sweat for fear their precious charges would pop
from the wherries into the Thames, like so
many exuberant corks.
They cheered with delight as London Bridge
was shot and the boats went flying down the
Pool, past Billingsgate and the oystermen, the
White Tower and the Traitors' Gate, past the
shipping, where brown, foreign-looking faces
stared at them above sea-battered bulwarks.
The sun was bright and the wind was keen;
the air sparkled, and all the world was full of
life. Hammers-beat in the builders' yards;
wild bargees sang hoarsely as they drifted down
to the Isle of Dogs; and from slow ships that
crept away to catch the wind in the open
stream below, with tawny sails drooping and
rimmed with frost, they heard the hail of salty
mariners.
The tide ran strong, and the steady oars car-
ried them swiftly down. London passed; then
solitary hamlets here and there; then dun fields
running to the river's edge like thirsty deer.
In Deptford Reach some lords who were
coming down by water passed them, racing
with a little Dutch boat from Deptford to the
turn. Their boats had holly-bushes at their
prows and holiday garlands along their sides.
7






MASTER SKYLARK.


They were all shouting gaily, and the stream
was bright with their scarlet cloaks, Lincoln-
green jerkins, and gold embroidery. But they
were very badly beaten, at which they laughed,
and threw the Dutchmen a handful of silver
pennies. Thereupon the Dutchmen stood up
in their boat and bowed like jointed ninepins;
and the lords, not to be outdone, stood up like-
wise in their boats and bowed very low in re-
turn, with their hands upon their breasts. Then
everybody on the river laughed, and the boys
gave three cheers for the merry lords and three
more for the sturdy Dutchmen. The Dutch-
men shouted back, Goot Yule and bowed
and bowed until their boat turned round and
went stern foremost down the stream, so that
they were bowing to the opposite bank, where
was no one at all. At this everyone laughed
again till their sides ached, and cheered them
twice as much as they had before.
And while they were cheering and waving
their caps, the boatmen rested upon their oars
and let the boats swing with the tide, which
thereabouts set strong against the shore, and a
trumpeter in the Earl of Arundel's barge stood
up and blew upon a long horn bound with a
banner of blue and gold.
Instantly he had blown, another trumpet an-
swered from the south, and when Nick turned
the shore was gay with men in brilliant livery.
Beyond was a .wood of chestnut-trees as blue
and leafless as a grove of spears; and in the
plain between the river and the wood stood a
great palace of gray stone, with turrets, pinna-
cles, and battlemented walls, over the topmost
tower of which a broad flag whipped the winter
wind, blazoned with golden lions and silver lilies
square for square. Amid a group of towers
large and small a lofty stack poured out a
plume of sea-coal smoke against the milky sky,
and on the countless windows in the wall the
sunlight flashed with dazzling radiance.
There were people on the battlements, and
at the port between two towers where the
Queen went in and out the press was so thick
that men's heads looked like the cobbles in the
street.
The shore was stayed with piling and with
timbers like a wharf, so that a hundred boats
might lie there cheek by jowl and scarcely


rub their paint. The lords made way and
the children players came ashore through an
aisle of uplifted oars. They were met by
the yeomen of the guard, tall, brawny fellows
clad in red, with golden roses on their breasts
and backs, and were marched up to the postern
two and two, with Master Gyles the last of
all, as haughty as a Spanish don come court-
ing fair Queen Bess.
A smoking dinner was waiting them, of white-
bait with red pepper, and a yellow juice so sour
that Nick's mouth drew up in a knot; but it
was very good. There were besides silver dishes
full of sugared red currants, and heaps of com-
fits and sweetmeats, which Master Gyles :,ul.,
not allow them even to touch, and saffron cakds
with raisins in them, and spiced hot cordial out -
of tiny silver cups. Bareheaded pages clad in
silk and silver lace waited upon them as if they
were fledgling kings; but the boys were too
hungry to care for that or to try to put on airs,
and waded into the meat and drink as if they
had been starved for a fortnight.
But when they were done Nick saw that the
table off which they had eaten was inlaid with
pearl and silver filigree, and that the table-cloth
was of silk with woven metal-work and gems
set in it worth more than a thousand crowns.
He was very glad he had eaten first, for such
wonderful service would have taken away his
appetite.
And truly a wonderful palace was the Queen's
Plaisance, as Greenwich House was called.
Elizabeth was born in it, and so loved it most
of all. There she pleased oftenest to receive
and grant audiences to envoys from- foreign
courts. And there, on that account, as was
always her proud, jealous way, she made a
blinding show of glory and of wealth, of sci-
ence, art, and power, that England, to the eyes
which saw her there, might stand in second
place to no dominion in the world, however rich
or great.
It was a very house of gold.
Over the door where the lads marched in
was the Queen's device, a golden rose,, with a
motto set below in letters of gold, "~fieu et
mon droit "; and upon the walls were blazoned
coats of noble arms on branching golden trees,
of pure gold and finest silk, costly beyond com-


[JULv,






MASTER SKYLARK.


pare. The royal presence-chamber shone with
tapestries of gold, of silver, and of oriental silks,
of as many shifting colors as the birds of para-
dise, and wrought in exquisite design. The
throne was set with diamonds, with rubies, gar-
nets, and sapphires, glittering like a pastry-crust
of stars, and garnished with gold-lace work,
pearls, and ornament; and under the velvet
canopy which hung above the throne was em-
broidered in seed-pearls, "Vivat Regina Eliza-






N-.< 4 -
__7--- ___
... a .. __


/4 V- N--> c ;i'

"THEY WERE MET BY THE YEOMEN OF THE GUARD, AND
POSTERN TWO AND TWO."


the under side by their feet, like flies upon the
ceiling. How they stuck was more than Nick
could make out; and where they landed if they
chanced to slip and fall, troubled him a deal,
until in the sheer multiplication of wonders he
could not wonder any more.
When they came to rehearse in the afternoon
the stage was hung with stiff, rich silks that had
come in costly cedar chests from the looms of
old Cathay; and the curtain behind which the
players came and went
was broidered with
gold thread in flowers
S" and birds like meteors
Sfor splendor. The gal-
lery, too, where the
musicians sat was
draped with silk and
damask.
Some of the lads
would have made out
by their great airs as
if this were all a com-
mon thing to them;
but Nick stared hon-
estly with round eyes,
and went about with
cautious feet, chary of
touching things, and
feeling very much out
of place and shy.
It was all too grand,
too wonderful,- amaz-
ing to look upon, no
doubt, and good to
outface foreign envy
with, but not to be en-
dured every day nor
lived with comfortably.
VERE MARCHED UP TO THE And as the day went
by, each passing mo-


betha!" There was no door without a gor- ment with new mat
geous usher there, no room without a page, no more uneasy for son
corridor without a guard, no post without a he might just sit do
man of noble birth to fill it. .as one could do at
On the walls of the great gallery were mas- peering at him fro
terly paintings of great folk, globes showing all guards patrolling at
the stars fast-in the sky, and drawings of the or obsequious ushe
world and all its parts, so real that one could every turn, and ask:
see the savages in the New World hanging to pleased to wish. t


rvels, Nick grew more and
ne simple little nook where
wn and be quiet for a while,
* home, without fine pages
m the screens, or splendid
his heels wherever he went,
rs bowing to the floor at
ing him what he might be
Rnd by the time night fell


719


T897.]






MASTER SKYLARK.


arid the attendant came to light them to their
beds, he felt like a fly on the rim of a wheel
that went so fast he could scarcely get his
breath or see what passed him by, yet of which
he durst not let go.
The palace was much too much for him.

CHAPTER XXVIII.
CHRISTMAS WITH QUEEN BESS.
CHRISTMAS morning came and went as if on
swallow-wings, in a gale of royal merriment.
Four hundred sat to dinner that day in Green-
wich halls, and all the palace streamed with
banners and green garlands.
Within the courtyard two hundred horses
neighed and stamped around a water-fountain
playing in a bowl of ice and evergreen.
Grooms and pages, hostlers and dames, went
hurry-scurrying to and fro; cooks, bakers, and
scullions steamed about, leaving hot, mouth-
watering streaks of fragrance in the air; bluff
men-at-arms went whistling here and there;
and serving-maids with rosy cheeks ran breath-
lessly up and down the winding stairways.
The palace stirred like a mighty pot that
boils to its utmost verge, for the hour of the
revelries was come.
Over the beech-wood and far across the
black heath where Jack Cade marshaled the
men of Kent, the wind trembled with the boom
of the castle bell. Within the walls of the
palace its clang was muffled by a sound of
voices that rose and fell like the wind upon
the sea.
The ambassadors of Venice and of France were
there, with their courtly trains. The Lord High
Constable of England was come to sit below
the Queen. The earls, too, of Southampton,
Montgomery, Pembroke, and Huntington were
there; and William Cecil, Lord Burleigh, the
Queen's High Treasurer, to smooth his care-
lined forehead with a Yuletide jest.
Up from the entry ports came shouts of
"Room -room! room for my Lord Strange i
Room for the Duke of Devonshire!" and
about the outer gates there was a tumult like
the cheering of a great crowd.
The palace corridors were lined with guards.
Gentlemen pensioners under arms went flash-


ing to and fro. Now and then through the
inner throng some handsome page with wind-
blown hair and rainbow-coloured cloak pushed
to the great door, calling: "Way, sirs, way for
my Lord!- way for my Lady of Alderstone!"
and one by one, or in blithe groups, the cour-
tiers, clad in silks and satins, velvets, jewels,
and lace of gold, came up through the lofty
folding-doors to their places in the hall.
There, where the Usher of the Black Rod
stood, and the gentlemen of the chamber came
and went with golden chains about their necks,
was bowing and scraping without stint, and
reverent civility; for men that were wise and
noble were passing by,. men that were hand-
some and brave; and ladies sweet as a summer
day, and as fair to see as spring, laughed by
their sides and chatted behind their fans, or
daintily nibbled comfits, lacking anything to
say.
The windows wereall curtained in, making a
night-time in midday; and from the walls and
galleries flaring links and great bouquets of
candles threw an eddying flood of yellow light
across the stirring scene. From clump to clump
of banner-staves and burnished arms, spiked
above the wainscot, garlands of red-berried
holly, spruce, and mistletoe were twined across
the tapestry, till all the room was bound, about
with a chain of living green.
There were sweet odors floating through the
air, and hazy threads of fragrant smoke from
perfumes burning in rich braziers; and under
foot was the crisp, clean rustle of new rushes.
From time to time, above the hum of voices,
came the sound of music from a room beyond
- cornets and flutes, fifes, lutes, and harps, with
an organ exquisitely played, and voices singing
to it; and from behind the players' curtain,
swaying slowly on its rings at the back of the
stage, came a murmur of whispering childish
voices, now high in eager questioning, now
low, rehearsing some doubtful fragment of a-
song.
Behind the curtain it was dark--not total
darkness, but twilight; for a dull glow came down
overhead from the lights in the hall without,
and faint yellow bars went up and down the
dusk from crevices in the screen. The boys.
stood here and there in nervous groups. Now


720

























K'
'r-~ cffI


'"MASTER SKYLARK, THOU SHALT HAVE THY WISH,' SAID QUEEN ELIZABETH."
VOL. XXIV.-9g. 721






MASTER SKYLARK.


and then a sharp complaint was heard from the
tirewoman when an impatient lad would not
stand still to be dressed.
Master Gyles went to and fro, twisting the
manuscript of the Revel in his hands, or paus-
ing kindly to pat some faltering lad upon the
back. Nick and Colley were peeping by turns
through a hole in the screen at the throng
in the audience-chamber.
They could see a confusion of fans, jewels,
and faces, and now and again could hear a
burst of subdued laughter over the steadily in-
creasing buzz of voices. Then from the gal-
lery above, all at once there came a murmur
of instruments tuning together; a voice in the
corridor was heard calling, Way here, way
here! in masterful tones; the tall folding-doors
at the side of the hall swung wide, and eight
dapper pages in white and gold came in with
the Master of Revels. After them came fifty
ladies and noblemen clad in white and gold,
and a guard of gentlemen pensioners with glit-
tering halberds.
There was a sharp rustle. Every head in the
audience-chamber louted low. Nick's heart
gave a jump for the Queen was there !
She came with an air that was at once seri-
ous and royal, bearing herself haughtily, yet
with a certain grace and sprightliness that be-
came her very well. She was quite tall and
well made, and her quickly changing face was
long and fair, though wrinkled and no longer
young. Her complexion was clear and of an
olive hue; her nose was a little hooked; her
firm lips were thin; and her small black eyes,
though keen and bright, were pleasant and
merry withal. Her hair was a coppery, tawny
red, and false, moreover. In her ears hung two
great pearls; and there was a fine small crown
studded with diamonds upon her head, besides
a necklace of exceeding fine gold and jewels
about her neck. She was attired in a white
silk gown bordered with pearls the size of beans,
and over it wore a mantle of black silk, cun-
ningly shot with silver threads. Her ruff was
vast, her farthingale vaster; and her train, which
was very long, was borne by a marchioness who
made more ado about it than Elizabeth did of
ruling her realm.
"The Queen! gasped Colley.


Dost think I did na know it?" answered
Nick, his heart beginning to beat tattoo as he
stared through the peep-hole in the screen.
He saw the great folk bowing like a gardenful
of flowers in a storm, and in their midst Eliza-
beth erect, speaking to those about her in a
lively and good-humoured way, and addressing
all the foreigners according to their tongue-
in French, Italian, Spanish, Dutch; but hers
was funny Dutch, and while she spoke she smiled
and made a joke upon it in Latin, at which they
all laughed heartily, whether they understood
what it meant or not. Then, with her ladies
in waiting, she passed to a dais near the stage,
and stood a moment, stately, fair, and proud,
while all her nobles made obeisance, then sat
and gave a signal for the players to begin.
Rafe Fullerton !" the prompter whispered
shrilly; and out from behind the screen slipped
Rafe, the smallest of them all, and down the
stage to speak the foreword of the piece. He
was frightened, and his voice shook as he spoke,
but every one was smiling, so he took new
heart.
"It is a Masque of Summer-time and
Spring," said he, wherein both claim to be
best-loved, and have their say of wit and hu-
mour, and each her part of songs and dances
suited to her time, the sprightly galliard and
the nimble jig for Spring, the slow pavone-the
stately peacock dance, for Summer-time. And
win who may, fair Summer-time or merry
Spring, the winner is but that beside our
Queen! "- with which he snapped his fingers
in the faces of them all- God save Queen
Bess! "
At that the Queen's eyes twinkled, and she
nodded, highly pleased, so that every one clap-
ped mightily.
The play soon ran its course amid great
laughter and applause. Spring won. The
English ever loved her best, and the quick-
paced galliard took their fancy, too. Up and
be doing!" was its tune, and it gave one a
chance to cut fine capers with his heels.
Then the stage stood empty and the music
stopped.
At this strange end a whisper of surprise ran
through the hall. The Queen tapped with the
inner side of her rings upon the broad arm of


[JULY,






MASTER SKYLARK.


her chair. From the look on her face, she was
whetting her tongue. But before she could
speak, Nick and Colley, dressed as a farmer boy
and girl, with a garland of house-grown flowers
about them, came down the stage from the ar-
ras, hand in hand, bowing.
The audience-chamber grew very still this
was something new. Nick felt a swallowing in
'his throat, and Colley's hand winced in his grip.
There was no sound but a silky rustling in the
room.
Then suddenly the boys behind the players'
curtain laughed together, not loud, but such
a jolly little laugh that all the people smiled
to hear it. After the laughter came a hush.
Then the pipes overhead made a merry
sound as of shepherds piping on oaten straws
in new grass where there are daisies; and there
was a little elfish laughter of clarionets, and
a fluttering among the cool flutes like spring
wind blowing through crisp young leaves in
April. The harps began to pulse and throb
with a soft cadence like raindrops falling into
a clear pool where brown leaves lie upon the
bottom and bubbles float above green stones
and smooth white pebbles. Nick lifted up his
head and sang.
It was a happy little song of the coming and
the triumph of the spring. The words were all
forgotten long ago. They were not much:
enough to serve the turn, no more; but the
notes to which they went were like barn-swal-
lows twittering under the eaves, goldfinches
clinking in purple weeds beside old roads, and
robins singing in common gardens at dawn.
And wherever Nick's voice ran, Colley's fol-
lowed, the pipes laughing after them a note or
two below; while the flutes kept gurgling softly
to themselves as a hill brook gurgles through
the woods, and the harps ran gently up and
down like rain among the daffodils. One voice
called, the other answered; there were echo-
like refrains; and as they sang Nick's heart
grew full. He cared not a stiver for the crowd,
the golden palace, or the great folk there the
Queen no more he only listened for Colley's
voice coming up lovingly after his own and
running away when he followed it down, like a
lad and a lass through the bloom of the May.
And Colley was singing as if his heart would


leap out of his round mouth for joy to follow
after the song they sung, till they came to the
end and the skylark's song.
There Colley ceased, and Nick went singing
on alone, forgetting, caring for, heeding naught
but the song that was in his throat.
The Queen's fan dropped from her hand
upon the floor. No one saw it or picked it up.
The Venetian ambassador scarcely breathed.
Nick came down the stage, his hands before
him, lifted as if he saw the very lark he fol-
lowed with his song, up, up, up into the sun.
His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were
wet, though his voice was a song and a laugh
in one.
Then they were gone behind the curtain,
into the shadow and the twilight there, Colley
with his arms about Nick's neck, not quite
laughing, not quite sobbing. The manuscript
of the Revel lay torn in two upon the floor,
and Master Gyles had a foot upon each
piece.
In the hall beyond the curtain was a silence
that was deeper than a hush, a stillness rising
from the hearts of men.
Then Elizabeth turned in the chair where she
sat. Her eyes were as bright as a blaze. And
out of the sides of her eyes she looked at the
Venetian ambassador. He was sitting far out
on the edge of his chair, and his lips had fallen
apart. She laughed to herself. It is a good
song, signor," said she, and those about her
started at the sound of her voice. Chi tace
confessa--it is so! There are no songs like
English songs there is no spring like an Eng-
lish spring-there is no land like England, my
England!" She clapped her hands. "I will
speak with those lads," said she.
Straightway certain pages ran through the
press and came behind the curtain where Nick
and Colley stood together, still trembling with
the music not yet gone out of them, and brought
them through the hall to where the Queen sat,
every one whispering, Look!" as they passed.
On the dais they knelt together, bowing,
side by side. Elizabeth, with a kindly smile,
leaning a little forward, raised them with her
slender hand. "Stand, dear lads," said she
heartily. "Be lifted up by thine own singing,
as our hearts have been uplifted by thy song.





MASTER SKYLARK.


And name me the price of that same song
-'t was sweeter than the sweetest song we
ever heard before."
Or ever shall hear again," said the Vene-
tian ambassador under his breath, rubbing his
forehead as if just wakening out of a dream.
Come," said Elizabeth, tapping Colley's
cheek with her fan, "what wilt thou have of
me, fair maid ?"
Colley turned red, then very pale. "That I
may stay in the palace forever and sing for your
Majesty," said he. His fingers shivered in
Nick's.
Now that is right prettily asked," she cried,
and was well pleased. Thou shalt indeed stay
for a singing page in our household-a voice
and a face like thine are merry things upon a
rainy Monday. And thou, Master Lark," said
she, fanning the hair back from Nick's forehead
with her perfumed fan "thou that comest up
out of the field with a song like the angels sing
--what wilt thou have: that thou mayst sing
in our choir and play on the lute for us ? "
Nick looked up at the torches on the wall,
drawing a deep, long breath. When he looked
down again his eyes were dazzled and he could
not see the Queen.
What wilt thou have ? he heard her ask.
"Let me go home," said he.
There were red and green spots in the air.
He tried to count them, since he could see
nothing else, and everything was very still; but
they all ran into one purple spot which came
and went like a firefly's glow, and in the middle
of the purple spot he saw the Queen's face
coming and going.
Surely, boy, that is an ill-considered speech,"
said she, or thou dost deem us very poor, or
most exceeding stingy! Nick hung his head,
for the walls seemed tapestried with staring
eyes. "Or else this home of thine must be a
very famous place."
The maids of honor tittered. Further off
somebody laughed. Nick looked up, and
squared his shoulders.
They had rubbed the cat the wrong way.
It is hard to be a stranger in a palace, young,
country-bred, and laughed at all at once; but
down in Nick Attwood's heart was a stubborn
streak that all the flattery on earth could not


cajole nor ridicule efface. He might be simple,
shy, and slow, but what he loved he loved:
that much he knew; and when they laughed
at him for loving home they seemed to mock
not him, but home and that touched the
fighting-spot.
I would rather be there than here," said he.
The Queen's face flushed.
"Thou art more curt than courteous," said-
she. Is it not good enough for thee here ?"
I could na live in such a place."
The Queen's eyes snapped. In such a
place? Marry, art thou so choice? These
others find no fault with the life."
"Then they be born to it," said Nick, "or
they could abide no more than I they would
na fit."
"Haw, haw!" said the Lord High Con-
stable.
The Queen shot one quick glance at him.
"Old pegs have been made to fit new holes
before to-day," said she; "and the trick can be
done again." The Constable smothered the
rest of that laugh in his hand. "But come,
boy, speak up; what hath put thee so out of
conceit with our best-beloved palace ? "
"There is na one thing likes me here. I
can na bide in a place so fine, for there 's not
so much as a corner in it feels like home. I
could na sleep in the bed last night."
"What! How? We commanded good beds!"
exclaimed Elizabeth angrily, for the Venetian
ambassador was smiling in his beard. "This
shall be seen to."
Oh, it was a good bed -a very good bed
indeed, your Majesty! cried Nick. "But the
mattress puffed up like a cloud in a bag, and
almost smothered me; and it was so soft and
so hot that it gave me a fever."
Elizabeth leaned back in her chair and
laughed. The Lord High Constable hastily
finished the laugh that he had hidden in his
hand. Everybody laughed. Upon my word,"
said the Queen, "it is an odd skylark cannot
sleep in feathers! What didst thou do, for-
sooth ?"
"I slept in the coverlid on the floor," said
Nick. "It was na hurt,- I dusted the place
well,- and I slept like a top."
Now verily," laughed Elizabeth, "if it be


[JULY,







MASTER SKYLARK.


floors that thou dost desire, we have acres to
spare--thou shalt have thy pick of the lot.
Come, we are ill used to begging people to be
favored- thou 'It stay ?"
Nick shook his head.
"lMa foil" exclaimed the Queen, "it is a
queer fancy makes a face at such a pleasant
dwelling What is it sticks in thy throat ? "
Nick stood silent. What was there to say ?
If he came here he never would see Stratford
town again; and this was no abiding-place for
him.
They would not even let him go to the
fountain himself to draw water with which to


-


,




Swash, but
fetched it,
"SO NICK RODE HOME UPON THE BACK OF three at a
THE EARL OF ARUNDEL'S MAN-AT-ARMS."
time, in a
silver ewer and a copper basin, with towels and
a flask of perfume.
Elizabeth was tapping with her fan. "Thou
art bedazzled like," she said. "Think twice--
preferment does not gooseberry on the hedge-
row every day; and this is a rare chance which


hangs ripening on thy tongue. Consider well.
Come, thou wilt accept?"
Nick slowly shook his head.
"Go then, if thou wilt go!" said she; and
as she spoke she shrugged her shoulders, ill
pleased, and turning toward Colley, took him
by the hand and drew him closer to her, smil-
ing at his guise. "Thy comrade hath more
wit."
"He hath no mother," Nick said quietly,
loosing his hold at last on Colley's hand. I
would rather have my mother than his wit."
Elizabeth turned sharply back. Her keen
eyes were sparkling, yet soft.
"Thou art no fool,"
rr ~said she.
A little murmur ran
i through the room.
She sat a moment,
silent, studying his face.
Or if thou art, upon
my word I like the breed.
It is a stubborn, fro-
'ward dog; but Hold-fast
!~1, il' is his name. Ay, sirs,"
S she said, and sat up very
L.. I ,, -_ -. straight, looking into the
-- faces of her court, Brag
is a good dog, but Hold-
fast is better. A lad
who so loves his mother
-- makes a man who loveth
hi native land-and it is
.. n baI-' streak in the blood. Mas-
ter skylark, thou shalt have thy
N'" isl to London thou shalt go
ri,[ i-,.ry night."
SI do na 1 i.e in London," Nick began.
"What matters the place ? said she. Live
wheresoever thine heart doth please. It is
enough-so. Thou mayst kiss our hand."
She held out her hand, bright with jewels.
He knelt and kissed it as if it were all a doing
in a dream, or in some unlikely story he had
read. But a long while after he could smell the
perfume from her slender fingers on his lips.
Then a page standing by him touched his
arm as he arose, and bowing backward from
the throne, came with him to the curtain and
the rest. Old Master Gyles was standing there






MASTER SKYLARK.


apart. It was too dark to see his face, but he
laid his hand upon Nick's head.
"Thy cake is'burned to a coal," said he.

CHAPTER XXIX.
BACK TO GASTON CAREW.
So they marched back out of the palace
gates, down to the landing-place, the last red
sunlight gleaming on the basinets of the tall
halberdiers who marched on either side.
Nick looked out toward London, where the
river lay like a serpent, bristling with masts;
and beyond the river and the town to the for-
ests of Epping and Hainault; and beyond the
forests to the hills, where the waning day still
lingered in a mist of frosty blue. At their
back, midway of the Queen's park, stood up
the old square tower Mirefleur, and on its top,
one yellow light like the flame of a gigantic
candle. The day seemed builded of memories
strange and untrue.
A belated gull flapped by them heavily, and
the red sun went down. England was growing
lonely. A great barge laden with straw came
out of the dusk, and was gone without a sound,
its ghostly sail drawing in a wind that the
wherry sat too low to feel. Nick held his
breath as the barge went by: it was unreal,
fantastical.
Then the river dropped between its banks,
and the woods and the hills were gone. The
tide ran heavily against the shore, and the wake
of the wherry broke the floating stars into cold
white streaks and zigzag ripplings of raveled
light that ran unsteadily after them. The craft
at anchor in the Pool had swung about upon
the flow, and pointed down to Greenwich. A
hush had fallen upon the never-ending bustle
of the town; the air was full of a gray, un-
canny afterglow which seemed to come up out
of the water, for the sky was grown quite dark.
They were all wrapped in their boat-cloaks,
tired and silent. Now and then Nick dipped
his fingers into the cold water over the gun-
wale.
This was the end of the glory.
He wished the boat would go a little faster.
Yet when they came to the landing he was sorry.
The man-at-arms who went with him to


Master Carew's house was one of the Earl of
Arundel's men, in a stiff-wadded jacket of
heron-blue, with the earl's colors richly worked
upon its back, and his badge upon the sleeves.
Prowlers gave way before him in the streets,
for he was broad and tall and mighty, and the
fear of any man was not in the look of his eye.
As they came up the slow hill, Nick sighed,
for the long-legged man-at-arms walked fast.
"What there!" said he, and clapped Nick on
the shoulder with his bony hand; "art far
spent, lad? Why, marry, get thee upon my
back. I '11 jog thee home in the shake of a
black sheep's tail."
So Nick rode home upon the back of the
Earl of Arundel's man-at-arms; and that, too,
seemed a dream like all the rest.
When they came to Master Carew's house
the street was dark, and Nick's foot was asleep.
He stamped it, tingling, upon the step, and the
empty passage echoed with the sound. Then
the earl's man beat the door with the pommel
of his dagger-hilt, and stood with his hands
upon his hips, carelessly whistling a little tune.
Nick heard a sound of some one coming
through the hall, and felt that at last the day
was done. A tired wonder wakened in his
heart at how so much had come to pass in such
a little while; yet more he wondered why it
had ever come to pass at all. And what was
the worth of it, anyway, now it was done.
Then the door opened, and he went in.
Master Gaston Carew himself had come to
the door, walking quickly through the hallway,
with a queer, nervous twitching in his face.
But when he made out through the dusk that
it was Nick, he seemed in no wise moved, and
said quite simply, as he gave the man-at-arms a
penny: Oh, is it thou? Why, we have heard
somewhat of thee; and upon my word, I
thought, since thou wert grown so great, thou
wouldst come home in a coach-and-four, all
blowing horns!"
Nevertheless he drew Nick quickly in, and
kissed him thrice; and after he had kissed him
kept fast hold of his hand until they came to-
gether through the hall into the great room
where Cicely was sitting quite dismally in the
chimney-seat alone.
"There, Nick," said he; "tell her thyself


726


[JULY,






MASTER SKYLARK.


that thou hast come back. She thought she
had lost thee for good and all, and hath sung,
' Hey ho, my heart is full of woe!' the whole
twilight, and would not be comforted. Come,
Cicely, doff thy doleful willow--the proverb
lies. Out of sight, out of mind'- fudge! the
boy 's come back again! A plague take prov-
erbs, anyway! "
But when the children were both long since
abed, and all the house was still save for the
scamper of rats in the wall, the heavy door
of Nick's room opened stealthily, with a little
grating upon the uneven sill, and Master Ca-
rew stood there, peeping in, his hand upon the
bolt outside. He held a rush-light in the other.
Its glimmer fell across the bed upon Nick's
tousled hair; and when the master-player saw
the boy's head. upon the pillow he started
eagerly, with brightening eyes. My soul!"
he whispered to himself, a little quaver in his
tone, I would have sworn my own wish lied
to me, and that he had not come at all! It
cannot be-yet, verily, I am not blind. Ma
foi / it passeth understanding a freed skylark
come back to its cage 1 I thought we had lost
him forever."
Nick stirred in his sleep. Carew set the light
on the floor. "Thou fool!" said he, and he
fumbled at his pouch; "thou dear-belov6d little
fool! To catch the skirts of glory in thine
hand, and tread the heels of happy chance,
and yet come back again to ill-starred twilight
--and to me! Ai, lad, I would thou wert my
son mine own, own son; yet Heaven forbid
thee father such as I! For, Nick, I love thee.
Yet thou dost hate me like a poison thing.
And still I love thee, on my word, and on
the remnant of mine honour! His voice was
husky. "Let thee go ? send thee back ? -
eat my sweet and have it too ? -how ? Nay,
nay; thy happy cake would be my dough -it
will not serve." He shook his head, and
looked about to see that all was fast. Yet,
Nick, I say I love thee, on my soul !"
Slipping to the bedside with stealthy step,
he laid a fat little Banbury cheese and some
brown sweet cakes beside Nick's pillow; then
came out hurriedly and barred the door.
The fire in the great hall had gone out, and
the room was growing cold. The table stood


by the chimney-side, where supper had been
laid. Carew brought a napkin from the linen-
chest, and spread it upon the board. Then he
went to the server's screen and looked be-
hind it, and tried the latches of the doors; and
having thus made sure that all was safe, came
back to the table again, and setting the rush-
light there, turned the contents of his purse
into the napkin.
There were both gold and silver. The sil-
ver he put back into the purse again; the gold
he counted carefully; and as he counted, lay-
ing the pieces one by one in little heaps upon
the cloth, he muttered under his breath, like a
small boy adding up his sums in school, saying
over and over again, One for me, and one for
thee, and two for Cicely Carew. One for me,
and one for thee, and two for Cicely Carew";
and told the coins off in keeping with the count,
so that the last pile was as large as both the
others put together. Then slowly ending,
None for me, and one for thee, and two for
Cicely Carew," he laid the last three nobles
with the rest.
Then he arose and stood a moment listening
to the silence in the house. An old he rat
that was gnawing a rind on the hearth looked
up, and ran a little nearer to his hole. "Tsst!
come back," said Carew; "I 'm no cat! and
from the sliding panel in the wall he took out a
buckskin bag tied like a meal-sack with a string.
As he slipped the knot the throat of the bag
sagged down, and a gold piece jangled on the
floor. Carew started as if all his nerves had
leaped within him at the unexpected sound,
and closed the panel like a flash. Then, set-
ting his foot upon the fallen coin, he stopped its
spinning, and with one hand on his poniard,
peering right and left, he blew the candle out.
A little while he stood and listened in the
dark; a little while his feet went to and fro in
the darkness. The wind cried in the chimney.
Now and then the casements shivered. The
timbers in the wall creaked with the cold, and
the boards in the stairway cracked. Then the
old he rat came back to his rind, and his mate
came out of the crack in the wall, working her
whiskers hungrily and snuffing the smell of the
candle-drip; for there was no sound, and the
coast of rat-land was clear.


(To be continued.)












AUNT PO.RTIA




^ Bovs

By
ary ,A Gillette.


-'-4-.


/ I


"Now listen," said Aunt Portia;
"When Fourth of July comes,
Can such a noise of trumpets,
Of cannon, bells, and drums,
Be in this age of culture
The very wisest way-"
"Why!" cried the boys,
"Without a noise
What 's Independence Day ? "


Vf






AUNT PORTIA AND THE BOYS.


" Dear boys," rejoined Aunt Portia,
I doubt if such a waste
Of powder and- of money
Is in the best of taste.
The bells might ring, the band might play,
But not a single gun-"

"Fourth o' July,"
Dismayed they cry,
"Without a bit of fun "


"But crackers and torpedoes -
Those shocking things," said she;
"'T is time they were discarded.
Some new device might be
Discovered or invented.
Now, don't you think so, boys?"

Why, something new,"
They said, might do,
If it would make more noise."


THE SPRITE


OF THE HILLTOP.


By JOHN VANCE CHENEY.


WHEN noons are hot and very still,
It 's ho for the sprite that lives on the hill!
Stealing along from nook to nook,
Over the stones in the mountain brook,
Along the path where the cattle go,
On shyest ways that the hill-folk know;
Through sunny open and leafy alley--
Down he hies him into the valley.
Then the thistle-wheel round and round
Goes rolling and rolling without a sound,
And a silver shimmer runs over the pond,
And he runs after, and, on beyond,
Swings the wild cherries asleep by the wall,


Ruffs the fur of a squirrel, and that is all.
A whiff of sweet from the wood or the meadow!
He is here again on the back of a shadow,
And it 's crinkle on crinkle along the track
His quick feet make on the shadow's back.
Off he jumps, and, whisking up,
Spills sunshine out of a buttercup,
And yellow bugs, all shiny and lazy,
Tumbles headlong off the daisy.
He tickles the rib of a fat old toad;
He smothers the mulleins with smoke of the road.
The fun 's just beginning--still! all still!
The sprite has gone home to the top of the hill.


VOL. XXIV.-92.


NJIIII


A


c_-1 '/
Ct~













THE CHESAPEAKE MILL.


BY WILLIAM ABBATT.


IF there is a naval fight in our history'about
which every school-boy ought to know,- to
use an expression of which historians are rather
fond,--it is the sea-fight between our man-
of-war Chesapeake" and the British "Shan-
non," off Boston harbor, on the first of June,
1813. It has been so often told that I will not
tell it over again except in the briefest way.
The Chesapeake was captured, chiefly or alto-
gether through the mutinous conduct of part
of her crew, who refused to work the cannon
on her lower deck at all. Captain Lawrence
and Lieutenant Ludlow were killed, or, to be
exact, the captain died of his wounds four days
after the loss of his ship, and the Shannon took
her prize into the harbor of Halifax, where her
arrival caused the greatest rejoicing.
The dying words of Lawrence, as he was
carried from the deck, "Don't give up the
ship have been familiar to our boys and girls
for more than eighty years. It is these words
that make the combat most memorable. They
are a good motto in every trouble of life. Don't
give up the ship don't despair, lose heart,
surrender, but take courage, and, like General
Grant, "Fight it out on this line if it takes
all summer."
With the Chesapeake's entrance into Halifax
harbor all trace of her disappears from our
smaller histories. Some years after the war of
1812 was over, the English naval authorities
decided that the Shannon was useless, and had
her broken up. I think, if they had realized
how much romance was in after years to attach
to the story of the fight, they might have kept
the old ship in repair, as Admiral Nelson's old
"Victory has been preserved. The Chesa-
peake was sent to England, where she must
have been an object of great interest; but in
1820 she, too, was taken to pieces. This was


probably done in the harbor of Southampton,
for her timbers were sold to one John Prior,
the owner of a flour-mill in the little town
of Wickham, near Southampton. He pulled
down his mill, and used the great beams of
the American frigate in building a new one.
The great deck-timbers, thirty-two feet long
and eighteen inches square, served for floor-
beams in the mill, and the smaller ones for
uprights, all without being cut or altered in any
way* Of course many of them were full of the
shot fired by the Shannon in the fight, and the
shot are there still.
When I learned of the strange end of the old
ship, the story of which I had read as a boy
with no less interest, I hope, than do the boys
of to-day, I determined to secure a picture of
the mill built of her timbers,- and here it is.
It is not so impressive as some other pictures
in the world, for the mill is not very large. Sev-
eral like it could be put inside any one of the
great mills at Minneapolis, and still leave plenty
of room for work; but then, it is the Chesapeake
Mill (that is the name it has always gone by),
and, so far as I know, this is the only picture
of it ever made, and certainly the only one in
America. I wanted especially a photograph
of the interior, but the photographer declared
the place was so dark, and so full of machinery,
that it was impossible to take a satisfactory pic-
ture. I think a Yankee with a kodak, how-
ever, would try it, and I hope one will before
long. As you see, the building is a squat, brick
affair, without a sign of beauty about it; but
it will always be of interest to patriotic Ameri-
cans.
Many years ago, a life of Captain Broke, the
commander of the Shannon during the action,
was published in England, and from it we
may make an extract describing the mill:





THE CHESAPEAKE MILL. 731
Nothing ship-like or of
the sea was to be seen from
the outside [of the mill].
A large cigar-box made of
the polished pine of the
ship, and bearing the word
" Chesapeake" in brass
nails, stood upon a table.
The beams were marked
in many places by grape-
shot. The mill was mer-
rily going, but as I stood
there I remembered that
on one of those planks Cap- -
tain Lawrence fell, mortally
wounded, Captain Broke
almost so, and the first lieu-
tenant of the Shannon and
the third of the Chesapeake
died. Thus pondering, I ---
stood, and still the busy
hum of the peaceful mill
went on.

The cigar-box spok-
en of has disappeared,
and the present owner ;:. .. .:-
of the mill knows no-
thing of its where-
abouts. The old mill RAWN B"Y "RY" "FN 'ROM A PHOTOGRAPH BY THE AUTHOR.
THE CHESAPEAKE MILL.
is likely to stand for
many years, the only visible reminder of the yard, New York, on which are deeply cut a brief
great sea-fight of 1813, except the tomb of the story of the battle, and the young captain's im-
gallant Captain Lawrence in Trinity Church- mortal words, DON'T GIVE UP THE SHIP! "




WHEN WE GO FISHING.

By VIRGINIA WOODWARD CLOUD.


WHEN we go fishing in the brook,
Joey and Cicely and I,
A crooked pin 's our only hook.
That catches 'em! Sometimes we tie
The string tight to a willow limb
Just where the biggest minnows swim.

Then we lie down there in the shade,
And watch our bobs that tip and float;
And once a bridge of rocks we made,
And built a castle and a moat;
But just as sure as we begin,
Why, Joey goes and tumbles in.


Then all the frightened fish they hide
Beneath the rocks and in the pool.
There 's not a minnow to be spied!
The water settles clear and cool
With bubbles 'tween the rocks, and foam;
But then we must take Joey home.

Of course he cries at mama's look.
She says: "Is this the only fish
That you can catch in Silver Brook?"
She knows, though, we 'd get all she 'd wish,
With just our string and pail and pin-
If Joey would n't tumble in!
























FROM THE ISLAND OF CEYLON TO THE DRY TORTUGAS.

By H. D. SMITH,
Captain in the United States Revenue Cutler Service.


lI S a relief from the routine
A. ,.' '-I ,:' life on shipboard, the
writer has often
rambled over
.--.-i miles of wild sea
--- beach and stretch-
es of smooth, shift-
ing sand. There is great pleasure in listening
to the deep-toned breakers, and in watch-
ing the ever-changing tints of the opaline
waters. The solitude is unbroken save by the
deep breathing or pulsations of old Ocean and an
occasional complaining note from some sea-fowl.
During such rambles'an interest in shells began.
The many bright-colored treasures along the
beach must arouse in the hearts of the most
indifferent at least a recognition of their beauti-
ful shapes and wonderful colors.
The result of my study of shells has been a
collection of shells representing many parts of
the globe, and the sight of some of the shells re-
calls a day of adventure, or such a little yam "
as is always relished by the youthful listener.
Of course my interest in shells has led me to
study the science of shells conchology--and
to notice interesting items upon the subject
wherever met with.
The researches of the famous English cruiser
"Challenger" revealed many secrets held long


concealed by old Ocean; and while exploring
the bed of the Atlantic for the pathway of the
cable, shelled animals were obtained at a depth
of 1900 fathoms, or about two miles, and spe-
cimens have been secured in 2425 fathoms, or
nearly three miles.
Probably the finest shells known come from
the isles of the South Seas, cast up on the sloping
beaches of these ever green emeralds of the
ocean by the breakers of the mighty Pacific.
At Cebu, in the Philippine Islands, the writer
has found some of the rarest shells in his col-
lection, and- has bought shell cups and spoons
made from the univalve shells. When they are
cut, cleaned, and polished the interior shows a
vivid orange tint mingled with a pearly coating.
Strewn along the beaches of numerous South
Pacific islets, all but unknown to the average
navigator, is found the Pearly Nautilus, sup-
posed by seamen to be furnished with a mem-
brane which serves as a sail. There are four
species to be seen living. Here too the beauti-
ful Natica, a species of marine gastropod, with
its glassy shell regularly streaked with yel-
low bars, is found in its sandy hiding-place.
Here also is the beautifully polished and tinted
Oliva. Fine specimens of mother-of-pearl
may be found, and a perfect kaleidoscope of
intermingling color greets the eye at every step.






HUNTING FOR SHELLS.


On one of the countless islands of the South
Pacific, while gathering shells, not noticing that
the sun had nearly set and deep shadows were
creeping out from the banana and cocoa palms,
I heard an unusual commotion among a com-
bined party of monkeys and parroquets that
were in a beautiful fan-palm whose branches
reached to within a few feet of the feathery,
tumbling surf. The search for shells would
have led directly under the rustling foliage,
and but for the noise made by the birds and
monkeys this story about shells would prob-
ably never have been written.
Coiled amid the thick leaves and vines was a
big snake, I think a boa-constrictor, whose
flashing eyes and great jaws came into view
as I cautiously advanced. One glance was
sufficient. I had no weapons, and I made a
retreat to the little boat on the beach. The
island was left in a hurry, and the rapidly grow-
ing darkness, coming at once after the tropi-
cal sunset, effectually shut out all objects
from view. But the lesson
taught by that meeting was
not forgotten; and from that
day, whenever indulging in a
ramble on unknown ground,
I have carried a gun.


At Singapore the opportunities to
secure shells of great variety in colors,
forms, and sizes are not surpassed at any point
in India. Here may be found specimens from
all parts of the Malayan Archipelago, the coasts
of Siam, Burma, Ceylon, and China. Mother-


of-pearl comes here almost entirely from Bor-
neo and the Southwestern Archipelago. The
minute flash shells of Ceylon, scarcely larger
than a grain of sand, but as perfectly formed as
















the nautilus or spider-shell, are obtained here,
and are considered curiosities. They are of
all shapes and forms, resembling baskets, stars,
and diamonds, but none is to be found larger
than a pin's head.
Just across the famous old Straits of Ma-
lacca is the sultanate of Johore. Re-
ceiving permission to view the'little
Malay country, the writer, assisted
by two trained and armed
shikarries, improved the op-
portunity to secure some shells.
Engaging the shikarries was
a wise precaution, as the shell
district at one point borders
on the confines of a dense jun-
gle where tigers were known
to lurk.
There were many beautiful
specimens of tree-shells as well
as of green snail," a strictly
land species of short, spiral
7 form, in color a pale, green-
lemon tint, suffused with yellow.
Suddenly my labors were inter-
rupted by the elder shikarry, whose
deep guttural exclamation and eyes
flashing with excitement attracted
my attention.
"Hist, sahib!-be wary," he whispered.
"Look, there is Kya! Kya! (Tiger).
I must confess this startling piece of news


pompi i"St


'
te





HUNTING FOR SHELLS.


was more than I had really expected when
I left the spacious bungalow of the Sultan.
Moving back a pace or two beyond the shadow
of the thickly interlaced underbrush, I took
from the shikarry's hand the heavy rifle he
always carried.
The next instant out stalked a tiger, who came
* clear of the shrubbery, swaggering along with
the peculiar gait of a tiger when
he is on the prowl. The raising of
the cumbersome












.........


weapon to
my shoulder
broughtthebrute
to a standstill.
His big blazing
eyeballs held me
in a fixed stare
which seemed to
agitate every
nerve inmybody.
The tail of the
tiger switched
nervously from side to side, while one huge paw
remained uplifted, as if he was undecided just
what action to -take. Not a muscle in the na-
tives quivered; motionless as statues, they stood
in the rear, their spotless turbans gleaming in
the flood of sunshine, leaving all to the superior
prowess of the white man. Hastily my eye


glanced along the sights, and with the report a
low, menacing growl issued from the muscular
throat, as with a mighty bound the powerful
brute disappeared within the depths of the dark,
drowsy jungle. I had missed him in the hurry
and excitement of a first shot, and, somewhat
abashed, shell-hunting was abandoned for that
day. The shikarries probably had a quiet laugh
at my expense, but of course they were too well
trained to exhibit the slightest trace of levity in
presence of their master's guest.
Pearl-shells are valuable, and fine specimens
are hard to obtain. They are found in the
Treamotee, Gambier, and Trihual groups of
islands. The choicest
come from Macassar;
these are the white-
edged shells, worth
$800 a ton, and from
these the finest pearl
S buttons are manufac-
tured.
The most celebrated
pearl-fisheries lie near
the coast of Ceylon, the Persian Gulf, and in the
waters of Java and Sumatra. The Australian
coast in the neighborhood of Shank's Bay and
at Roebuck Bay furnishes some very large
shells; some of them weighing from two to three
pounds each. The fisheries of Baja, Gulf of
California, are very rich, France controlling the
gems procured there. The meat of the pearl-
oyster is readily bought by the Chinamen, who
dry the leathery little bivalves or seal them up
in cans and ship them to their countrymen in
San Francisco. The pearl-shells readily sell
upon the spot at from $1.50 to $5 per pound.
Pearls and tears have for ages been asso-
ciated, and the magic virtues of the pearl were
held in high esteem in early times, as they are
to-day with the East Indians.
It is said that Queen Margaret Tudor, con-
sort of James IV. of Scotland, previous to the
battle of Flodden Field had many presenti-
ments of the disastrous issue of that conflict,
owing to a dream she had three nights in suc-
cession, that jewels and sparkling coronets
were suddenly turned into pearls-which the
superstitious believed were a sign of coming
widowhood and of tears.


734


[JULY,






HUNTING F


Pearls are of various colors, and in India the
red pearls were highly prized by the Buddhists,
who used them in adorning their temples.
Pearls are formed to protect the shell-fish.
They are due to a secretion of shelly substance
around some irritating particle, and their com-
position is the same as that of mother-of-pearl.
From the bright-tinted isl-
ands of the vast Pacific, the
spice-laden breezes and deep-
hued waters of Ceylon, the
rich, glowing hills of Borneo
and Sumatra, we will turn to
the low-lying shores and sand-
girt keys of the Gulf of Mexico.
Though lacking the gor-
geous tropical surroundings
and picturesque scenery of the
Orient, the shimmering, sandy
surfaces, scarcely peeping -
above the foam-capped bil-
lows, have been found rich in
brightly tinted and peculiarly FIS
shaped shells. The scene, too,


along the Gulf Coast is by no means devoid of
beauty and novelty.
At Hurricane Island, the entrance to St.
Andrew's Sound on the west coast of Florida,
a few pretty-colored Ark, Cockle, Drill, and
Naiad shells have been secured. Here also
is found the exquisitely polished Oliva shell,
varying from a light drab to a deep, rich mot-


EGMONT KEY.


tled brown. It leaves only a slight trail in
the fluffy sand where it burrows for a hiding-
place, and it requires a sharp and practised eye
to discover its lurking-place. Hurricane Isl-


OR SHELLS. 735
and is rapidly disappearing before the savage
assaults of thundering breakers, and before long
the blue waters of the Gulf will sweep over it.
At St. Joseph's Bay, a few miles to the east-
ward of Hurricane Island, a safe and commo-
dious harbor is formed by a narrow arm of sand-
dunes. Along their glistening shores a variety


HERMEN'S SHACKS. ST. JOSEPH'S BAY, FLORIDA.

of delicate and pretty shells has been gathered.
Thrown on the slowing borders by the restless
waves, nestle the peculiar-shaped Sinistral, the
clean-cut Turbinella, the cone-shaped Virnestas,
and innumerable Winkles, which destroy large
numbers of oysters by drilling their shells and
sucking their juices.
On the same beach my son, while quietly se-
lecting a few choice, colored mollusks, was star-
tled by a sudden, vicious grunt, and glancing up,
was startled by the spectacle of a genuine Florida
hog, a "razor-back," charging down upon him
at full speed. With back arched, stiff bristles
standing erect with rage, long, curved tusks
protruding from the foam-flecked snout, and
villainous eyes snapping with rage, the angry
beast came on. Altogether he was a formid-
able-appearing brute, and in point of ferocity
not to be trifled with. Startled by the sudden
attack, the young man retreated precipitately
into the water, the only means of escape open
to him, where, waist-deep, he opened fire from
a heavy navy-revolver. Not long afterward,
in the petty-officers' mess, there was a glorious
banquet on wild hog.
Along the Florida reefs, once the home of


p
Z-"~"
~--;f~--- 5). --P f
-"; I-:






HUNTING FOR SHELLS.


the daring and wicked wrecker, beautiful shells
are thrown up by the waves of the Gulf; while
along the chain of little keys or islands jutting
out to the westward from Key West toward
Tortugas, where towers Fort Jefferson, the cele-
brated solitary fortress of the Gulf, are found
the pretty brown-mottled shells that cling to
submerged roots of thick and tangled man-
grove bushes, the natural haunt and home of
the water-moccasin.
At Tortugas a number of Conchs, King
and Queen, were secured in the surf; also many
delicate patterns of sea-ferns, brilliant in many
colors. At Sanibal Island is found the right-
handed fan-shell, said to be obtainable at only
three or four places in the world. This shell,
the spiral being reversed, is mentioned as a
rarity by Jules Verne in his in-
teresting book, "Twenty Thousand
Leagues underthe Sea."


Upon many of the lone and desolate sand-
islets, where tradition says that the pirates and
buccaneers of old once found a congenial
haunt, are beaches rich in shell treasures, but
they have been thoroughly tramped over by
collectors.
Reminiscences of boat adventures in the roll-
ing lines of breakers on the coast of Africa, or
while hunting for the brilliant Abalones in the
Gulf of California, or in seeking for mother-of-
pearl on the wild coast of Australia, with hap-
penings that include sharks, a narrow escape
from the black natives of New Zealand, and a
battle with monkeys on the Coromandel coast,
might be included in this description of shell-
hunting; but possibly sufficient'has been re-
counted to convince the reader that even in so
tame a pursuit as shell-gathering one
may now and again happen upon
hiL, exciting situations.


A MARVEL.

BY CAROLYN WELLS.

AN old astronomer there was
Who lived up in a tower;
Named Ptolemy Copernicus
Flammarion McGower.
He said: "I can prognosticate
With estimates correct;
And when the skies I contemplate,
I know what to expect.
When dark'ning clouds obscure my sight,
I think perhaps 't will rain;
And when the stars are shining bright,
I know 't is clear again."
And then abstractedly he scanned
The heavens, hour by hour,
Old Ptolemy Copernicus
Flammarion McGower.








LOST H-IS POCKET-KNIFE!i


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FACSIMILE OF A LETTER WRITTEN BY GEORGE WASHINGTON. (SEE NEXT PAGE.)
VOL. XXIV.--93-94. 737






738 LOST HIS PO
As there may be some difficulty in making
out parts of the old letter shown on page 737,
here are the words in plain print:
October 7th, 1779.
DEAR SIR
I have lost & cannot tell how- an old &
favourite penknife & am much distressed for want of
one-if you have any in your stores please to send
me one if you have not be so good as to get one im-
mediately.-perhaps Mr. Bayley could furnish me.-
one with two blades I should prefer where choice can
be had. I am Dr Sir
Y. Most Obedt
G. WASHINGTON.
Even so prudent and careful a man as Gen-
eral George Washington may lose a knife, as if
he were the youngest boy in the Red School-
house !
* The General knew the value of a good knife,
for he says it is "an old favourite," and that he
is "much distressed for want of one." The army
was not in active service just then, for the fight-
ing was chiefly in the southern colonies; so the
Commander-in-Chief probably needed his knife
to mend his pens. Quill-pens were always
wearing down, and had to be repointed; in-


(


AN ANECDOTE OF LINCOLN.


BY MARY LILLIAN HERR.


THE American people are so jealous of the
fame of Washington that they have found in a
hundred years but one worthy to stand beside
him-the Martyr President, Abraham Lincoln.
Yet in many respects these two great Ameri-
cans were strangely unlike, for Washington was
trained according to English ideas of reserve
and dignity; while Lincoln was a product of
the frontier settlement, and accustomed to meet
all men as having equal rights and no more.
Here is a true story of Lincoln that shows


his simple cordiality and freedom from false
dignity.
On his inaugural journey to Washington
in 1861, the train stopped a little time in
the town of Allegheny, Pennsylvania. Around
the station a great crowd gathered, eager to
see the new President. They shouted and
cheered until Lincoln had to appear on the
rear platform of his car. He bowed and
smiled; but the crowd was so noisy he did not
try to speak to them.


CKET-KNIFE [JULY,

deed, schoolmasters in those days were kept
busy in mending their scholars' pens. I won-
der if the boys did not sometimes blunt the
pens on purpose when tired of writing.
You will notice that the picture shows the
edges of the letter to have been scraped. This
is because an inscription was once put on the
letter saying that it was carried in a procession
on Washington's Birthday, 1832-a hundred
years after his birth.
The letter was presented in 1837 by Robert
Desilver, who was a stationer and publisher in
Walnut street, Philadelphia, to Constant Guil-
lou, who was a lawyer; and by him to Dr.
Charles F. Guillou, assistant surgeon United
States Navy, the present owner, April 16, 1889.
The owner of the letter believes that it was
addressed to Major Gibbs, then paymaster to
the Commander and his staff.
How little did General Washington, "much
distressed by the loss of his knife, dream of
the pleasure the letter would give to nineteenth-
century young folks among the rest to two
little grandsons of the owner of the letter, who
is now eighty-four years old.






AN ANECDOTE OF LINCOLN.


Very near to the platform stood a workman,
wearing a red shirt' and blue overalls, and car-
rying a dinner-pail. Like the rest he had
stopped hoping to see Mr. Lincoln. The
workman was almost a giant in size, and tow-
ered head and shoulders above the crowd.
No doubt he had
heard that Lincoln
also was very tall;
and, encouraged by
the friendly face, the
workman suddenly
waved his bare arm /
above his head, and
called out:
"Hi, there, Abe
Lincoln!-I 'm tall- u' .
er than you yes, a .
sight taller!"
.This loud speech
silenced the crowd '
by its boldness, and
a laugh arose. But
Mr. Lincoln, leaning
forward with a good-
humored smile, said
quietly :
My man, I doubt
it; in fact, I 'm sure
Iamthetaller. How-
ever, come up, and
let 's measure."
The crowd made
way; the workman
climbed to the plat-
form, and stood <
back to back with
the President-elect.
THE WORKMAN S
Each put up a handTHE WORKMAN S
to see whose head overtopped. Evidently Mr.
Lincoln was the victor; for with a smile of
satisfaction, he turned and offered his hand to
his beaten rival, saying cordially:
I thought you were mistaken and I was
right; but I wished to be sure and to have you
satisfied. However, we are friends anyway,
are n't we ? "
Grasping the outstretched hand in a vigor-
ous grip, the workman replied heartily:


"Yes, Abe Lincoln; as long as I live! "
No pretended familiarity could have won
this reply. The man who was to proclaim
freedom to the slaves felt himself the equal of
any man be it a great statesman or a private
soldier.


I 1 -.


Ul--


STOOD BACK TO BACK WITH THE PRESIDENT-ELEC1."

He received the ambassador of a nation with
no more embarrassment than he felt in mea-
suring his height against the Allegheny work-
man; for he neither valued himself too much
nor too little; and in the White House or
on the frontier he always recognized the truth
of Burs's oft quoted lines:

The rank is but the guinea's stamp-
A man 's a man for a' that.


739


- -



















THE WOODPECKER'S TONGUE. (EXTENDED.)


THE LITTLE DRUMMER OF THE WOODS.

BY FRANK M. CHAPMAN.


PROBABLY there are few readers of ST. NICH-
OLAS living in the country who have not seen
a woodpecker; but how many can tell, I won-
der, how woodpeckers differ from other birds,
from a crow, for instance ? A crow is
black, but so are some woodpeckers.
A crow is large, but there are wood- -
peckers that equal it in size; so that
neither color nor size has anything to
do with the answer. The notes and
habits of these birds are unlike, it is
true, but my question relates rather to
difference in form.
Now, if we had a woodpecker in our
hands we should see, in the beginning,
that its,bill is not slightly hooked, with
the upper mandible turned down at its end
and overlapping the under mandible, as in the


= Al


a. BILL OF PILEATED WOODPECKER.
b. BILL OF FLICKER.
C. BILL OF CROW.


crow and other birds that "pick up a living,"
but that both mandibles are of equal length,
and cut squarely off at the tip. It is therefore
like a wedge or chisel.


A TAIL-FEATHER OF THE PILEATED WOODPECKER.


A TAIL-FEATHER OF THE CROW.


Perhaps the tip of the bird's tongue will be
seen appearing through its nearly closed man-
dibles, and our attention is at once attracted
by its peculiar shape. We discover that it
is remarkably long, and when fully extended
reaches almost if not quite an inch beyond the
point of the bill. It is not flat, like the crow's,
but round and fleshy, and has a sharp, horny
point which, by looking at it very closely, we
see has a series of barbs on both sides.
In the meantime our hands have doubtless
been pricked by the bird's tail-feathers, each
feather being stiff, bristly, and pointed at the
end. Some of the larger woodpeckers the
pileated and ivorybill, for instance- have this
singular kind of tail-feather highly developed.
The main stem or shaft of the feather is much






THE LITTLE DRUMMER OF THE WOODS.


larger than usual, and each barb growing from
this shaft is curved downward and inward, and
is strong and pointed. Comparing this fea-
ther with the flat tail-feather of a crow, we
see at once how different it is in form.
The wings do not impress us as in any way
unusual; they are neither very long nor
very short, but the arrangement of the
toes is so peculiar that tliei -e
at once commented upon b, .-i
blind girl, to whom I hl':i
handed a specimen of I:'r:
of these birds. Instead of
the disposition common 0
to most birds, three
toes directed forward
and one backward, we,.
discover two front toes
and two hind ones,
and we will note
also that each toe is
armed with a strong
curved nail.
Here, then, we have
four easily observable
characters: a chisel-
shaped bill, long, spear-
tipped tongue, pointed,
stiffened tail-feathers,
and what ornithologists
term zygodactyll," or
yoked, toes. With few .
exceptions these are
possessed by all wood-
peckers; and although
we may find other birds
with similar tail-fea-
thers and others still ....
with yoked toes, we ,
may be sure that when '- ,.
all the four characters
mentioned appear in
one bird, that bird is
a woodpecker.
In color woodpeckers differ greatly; black,
brown, green, yellow, and red are found in
varying proportions and combinations, but a
family mark, worn by most of the three hun-
dred odd members of this tribe, is a red band,
cap, or crest, on the crown or nape.


This, if we may believe Longfellow, was be-
stowed by Hiawatha on the ancestor of all
woodpeckers when the bird had told him of
Megissogwon's vulnerable spot:
Aim your arrows, Hiawatha,
At the head of Megissogwon,


THE WOODPECKER AT WORK.


Strike the tuft of hair upon it,
At their root, the long black tresses;
There alone can he be wounded.
After the contest, when the great Pearl-fea-
ther, "mightiest of magicians," lay lifeless at
Hiawatha's feet:






THE LITTLE DRUMMER OF THE WOODS.


Then the grateful Hiawatha
Called the Mama, the woodpecker,
From his perch among the branches
Of the melancholy pine-tree,
And, in honor of his service,
Stained with blood the tuft of feathers
On the little head of Mama;
Even to this day he wears it,
Wears the tuft of crimson feathers,
As a symbol of his service.

After examining some unfamiliar tool or ma-
chine our first question, naturally enough, is,
"Well, how is it used?" And now that we
have seen the woodpecker's
outfit, we may ask the same

., .,. does he use it?"


THE LEFT FOOT OF THE PILEATED WOODPECKER.


THE LEFT FOOT OF A QUAIL.

Come with me to the woods and let the birds
answer you.
It is a May morning. The air is ringing
with the songs of birds. The voices of thrushes,
vireos, tanagers, grosbeaks, warblers, and of
many other songsters, form a chorus which goes
straight to the heart of the lover of nature. If
you listen closely you may hear now and then
a singular, resonant roll, which resembles the
tone of a loosely-snared drum. It also sug-
gests the call of a tree-toad, and some people


will tell you that it is the warning note of that
little weather-prophet. Now, right here you
have an opportunity to exhibit the two most
important traits of the successful field natural-
ist- caution and patience. Seeing 's believ-
ing"; never trust another person's eyes when
you can use your own. You may walk the
woods for years without happening to see how
this rolling sound is made; and in the mean-
time you will be wrongly ascribing it to the
tree-toads, whose reputation as foretellers of
rain you will for this reason doubtless refuse to
accept.
A few minutes' search reveals the drummer,
who proves to be our common downy wood-
pecker--a black and white bird nearly seven
inches long. He is clinging to a dry, dead
limb; and as you watch him his head suddenly
disappears in a series of hazy heads, while with
his bill he strikes the echoing wood with such
rapidity that the sound of the blows is fused in
one continuous roll. It is his love-song; his
contribution to the spring-time chorus. Prob-
ably he fancies it quite as pleasing as the thrush's
most liquid notes. Indeed, he seems proud of
his performance, and after each roll he looks
about him in a defiant kind of way as though
delivering a challenge to the world. Changing
his position he also changes his key, making
it higher or lower, muffled or more resonant,
according to the size and nature of his drum.
Occasionally woodpeckers discover the sound-
producing qualities of tin gutters and leaders,
upon which, it is recorded, they hammer with
evident satisfaction. Thus one of the wood-
pecker's so-called tools proves, unexpectedly
enough, to be also a musical instrument.
By this time the uses of the tail and feet are
also quite evident, for we have seen that our bird
does not perch on a limb as does the crow or
thrush, but climbs or creeps along it. Doubtless
his yoked toes are of especial service to him here,
still it does not follow that all climbing birds
have two toes directed forward and two back-
ward, or that all birds having two front toes
and two hind ones are climbers. On the con-
trary, some large families of climbing-birds
have three toes in front and one behind, and
there is even a woodpecker having toes ar-
ranged in this way. On the other hand many


JULY,


742





THE LITTLE DRUMMER OF THE WOODS.


birds, all the cuckoos for instance, have yoked
toes but do not climb; in fact, one of the cuc-
koos-the road-runner--is celebrated for his
speed on foot, as his name implies.
The question of toes is one of the puzzles of
ornithology. There are numerous other forms
and arrangements besides those I have men-
tioned. In some cases, for example, the webbed
foot of a duck, the relation to habit is obvious,
and there is surely a reason for every shape,
whether it is apparent to us or not. However,
the woodpecker's strong sharp toe-nails are an
evident necessity, and we find them highly devel-
oped in most climbing animals, whether bird,
mammal, or reptile. With them, he retains his
hold on the upright trunk of even a very smooth-
barked tree.
In assuming this position the woodpecker is
also greatly aided by his tail. With most birds
the tail serves as a rudder in flight and balan-
cer while perching; It is also used to express
emotion and may be wagged, quickly opened
and closed, or spread and erected as in the
peacock and turkey. The woodpecker's tail,
however, is far too important a member to be
used simply for display or needless wagging.
It may truly be said to be its owner's chief sup-
port, and while the eight long toe-nails are
gripping the bark the pointed, bristly feathers
are pressed closely to its surface, forming a capi-
tal brace for the bird's body. This type of
feather is probably without question a result of
habit. It is found in varying degrees among
birds which to a greater or less extent use
their tails as props when perching. Our brown
creeper, for example, has somewhat similar tail-
feathers, and the numerous wood-hewers or
wood-climbers of South America have adopted
the same style. Even the bobolink, and some
other reed-haunting birds that use the tail as
a brace when trying to keep their balance on. a
swaying reed, show in their pointed tail-feathers
the effect of this habit. Then there is the
chimney-swift; the midrib or shaft of his tail-
feathers projects far beyond the vane or feather
part, forming what is known as a spring tail,
an admirable organ to aid the bird in clinging
to the walls of chimneys. Still, you will remem-
ber the nuthatch. Surely he is a climber, and
his tail-feathers are not only rather short but


their ends are as soft as a bluebird's. But if
you watch the nuthatch you will see that he runs
downward quite as easily as upward, and that
the end of his tail does not press the bark
while he is climbing.
In the meantime our woodpecker has stopped
"singing," and has flown to a nearby dead tree
on whose soft, decayed limbs he has begun to
rap in a manner quite unlike that which pro-
duced the rolling drum-call. Now he is peck-
ing away in a most business-like manner, and
evidently with a definite object in view. The


C


SECTION OF A TREE SHOWING HOLES MADE BY A WOODPECKER.
pithy chips fall steadily, and we not only see
the use of his chisel-shaped bill, but learn an
additional reason for the strong, bristly tail.
Have you ever seen a "lineman" repair-
ing a telegraph wire at the top of a pole, or
an electric-light man changing the sticks of
carbon in the arc-light globes ? Have n't you
noticed how they sometimes place a strap
loosely about themselves and the pole, and
then lean back in it while working? Well, a
woodpecker uses his legs and tail for practically





THE LITTLE DRUMMER OF THE WOODS.


the same purpose, and it is in this way that he is
able to deliver his blows with so much strength.
If you doubt .the force of his blows, watch
the effect of them. It is true the bird on the
dead tree has a comparatively easy task before
him, but the accompanying photograph of a sec-
tion of a white-pine tree will convince you that
woodpeckers fully deserve their Spanish name
of los carpinteros, the carpenters. I found this
tree one day in a Vermont forest. It had
fallen, but for the most part was perfectly
sound.- It contained no less than twelve cavi-
ties of varying size, which I recognized as the
work of the pileated woodpecker. The largest
of these is shown in the photograph. It is
twelve inches long, four inches wide at the
mouth, and eight inches deep. For comparison
I have placed a mounted specimen of the
pileated woodpecker beside it. This hole was
made in sound, solid wood, and you may well
ask why the bird had expended so much energy
with so little apparent hope of reward. But if
you could see the bottom of the hole you would
admit that the pileated woodpecker knows a
thing or two about trees and their insect in-
habitants which the tree-owner could learn with
profit. At some time during the history of
the pine-tree, it had been attacked by a col-
ony of "borers," the larva of certain beetles,
that, giving no visible sign of existence, were
eating its heart out.
Now a pileated woodpecker chanced to
alight on the bark of this tree, and his sharp
ears no doubt soon told him of what was go-
ing on inside. He evidently had the faith of
conviction, and straightway began operations
which were to result in the grubs' extermina-
tion. The result you see, and I know you will
share my satisfaction in learning that the bird's
industry was probably rewarded by the discov-
ery of a veritable mine of grubs. But I have


not told you yet just how he secured them.
The chiseling was only part of the performance,
for after their retreats were exposed they had
to be speared and drawn out. The wood-
pecker's spear, as you will readily guess, is his
tongue. The strong muscles by which it is
controlled, the fact that it can be extended
far beyond the tip of the bill, and its horny,
barbed point, make it an ideal weapon for the
woodpecker's use. Consequently we find our
woodpecker is equipped with a drumstick, a
set of "climbers," a bracket-like support or
brace, a chisel, and a spear-by no means a
poor outfit for a bird.
Yet the first woodpecker you examine after
reading this article may be a golden-winged
woodpecker, commonly known as the flicker,
or high-hole; and when you see its tongue you
will perhaps be surprised to find that its tip is
nearly, if not entirely, without barbs; and will
wonder how this tongue can be used as a
spear. Remember those two words, "caution
and patience," and don't jump to conclusions.
Look at the flicker's bill; it is more slender,
somewhat curved, and less chisel-shaped than
that of the downy or pileated. Watch the
bird feeding, and you will see that he passes a
large part of his time on the ground, where you
will learn he is probing ants' nests, with his
long, smooth tongue, which is covered with a
sticky secretion to which the ants adhere.
Or you may see a yellow-bellied wood-
pecker, known also as the sapsucker, whose
tongue is not barbed at the tip, but covered
with fine bristles- a kind of brush with which
he doubtless gathers sap from the rows of
shallow holes he makes in the bark of trees.
And so as with "caution and patience you
study nature, you will find that every object,
even an old log in the woods, can teach a les-
son well worth learning.
























L- :/ _


"OH, MR. FAI.. .LE ,..

Oh, Mr. Fair.. pi lt
Don't go J.::! M
I am just a lLat!. ::1
Come out t~:l i-. .
Just me, al .. -
Jack 's goi vii.
You need n !,i. :.
Behind tbh:,t i/ /
Oh, Mr. Fair'-.:.
Don't go a, ,
I 've heard o -.-:.a !:
Do come ;L:.d i;.lph! o











THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS.


BY WILLIAM HENRY SHELTON.


[This story was begun in the November number.]
CHAPTER XVI.
AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR.
WHEN Philip awoke, after having swooned
at the feet of his comrades when his rescue was
accomplished, he lay in the delicious warmth
of his bunk. The late afternoon sun streamed
in at the window over his head, and Coleman
sat watching at -his side. Bromley was stirring
the fire, which was burning briskly on the
hearth, and the smell of gruel was in the room.
The station flags and the crossed sabers bright-
ened the space above the chimneypiece. The
map hung on the opposite wall, and over it
the old flag with thirty-five stars seemed to
have been draped just where it would first
catch his waking eye.
Strangely enough, the immediate cause that
awoke Philip was a dull boom which made the
faces of his comrades turn pale, and which was
nothing else than the fall of the avalanche on
which he had passed the night and the best
part of the previous day.
Philip, if he heard the sound at all, was not
sufficiently awake at the time to understand its
awful meaning; and without noticing the pallor
of his comrades, he weakly put out his hand,
which Coleman took in his own with a warm
pressure; and Bromley came over to the side
of the bunk and looked doubtingly into his
face. Neither of his comrades uttered a word.
Give me the gruel," said Philip. "I was
never so hungry before; and don't look at me
so, George. I 'm not crazy."
After he had eaten, he talked so rationally
that Coleman and Bromley shook each other's
hands and laughed immoderately at every slight-
est excuse for merriment, but said not a word
of the delusion which had so lately darkened
Philip's mind. They were so very jolly that
Philip himself laughed weakly by infection, and


then he asked them to tell him how he had
fallen over the mountain without knowing it.
In .reply to this question, Coleman told him
that he had been sick, and that he must have
walked off the great rock in the thick fog.
Philip was silent for a space, as if trying to
digest this strange information, and then with
some animation he said:
"Look here, Fred! The funniest part of
this whole dark business was when I had
climbed up to the top of the great bank. There,
alongside a hole in the snow, lay our telescope.
When I put out my hand to take it, it rolled
away through the opening in the snow; and,
heaven forgive me, fellows, I heard it ring on
the rocks at the bottom of the Cove."
With this long speech, and without waiting
for a reply, Philip fell into a gentle doze.
Coleman and Bromley, having no doubt
now that Philip's mind was restored because
he seemed to have no recollection of his
strange behavior on the mountain for the
year that was past, were very happy at this
change in his condition. As to the telescope,
they regarded its fall as perhaps a dangerous
matter, and a catastrophe which might bring
them some unwelcome visitors. But, then, it
was possible that it had fallen among inacces-
sible rocks, and would never be found at all.
If any one should come to disturb them, they
might hear of some unpleasant facts of which
they had rather remain in ignorance. Now
that nearly five years had passed since the great
war, they thought that whoever came would not
exult over them in an unbearable way. They
knew that some of the mountaineers had been
Union men; and although they would never
seek communication with them, a connection
formed against their will might result to their
advantage. They had a good supply of the
double eagles left. Somebody held title to the
mountain, they knew; and if the telescope did





THE LAST TH

bring them visitors, they could buy the plateau
from the deep gorge up, and pay in gold for it
handsomely too. Also, they could send down
their measures to a tailor and have new uni-
forms made to the buttons they had saved--
that is, if the tailor was not too hot-headed a
secessionist to soil his hands with the uniform
of the old, mutilated, and disgraced Union.
Then, too, they could buy seeds and books
and a great many comforts to make their lives
more enjoyable on the mountain.
And so it came about that, when month
after month passed and nobody came, the
three soldiers were rather disappointed. They
resolved.to save what remained of their minted
and milled coins against any unforeseen chance
they might have to put them in circulation;
and now that they thought of it, it would have
been much wiser to have melted the coins
of the United States and saved the English
guineas. If, however, the world had not
changed greatly since they left it, they believed
the natives in the valley below would accept
good red gold no matter what face or design
was stamped on the coin.
When Philip was quite himself again, by
reason of his knowledge of milling he took
entire control of the golden mill. In the cold
weather his old overcoat was dusty with meal,
as a miller's should be; and in the summer
days plenty of the yellow grains clung to his
arms, and to his thin red beard.
It is a Sunday morning in September again,
and, to be exact with the date,-for it was a
very important one in their history,- it is the
fourth day of the month in the year '7o. The
three soldiers are standing together by the door
of the mill, dressed very much as when we last
saw them there, and engaged in an animated
conversation.
"An egg," said Lieutenant Coleman, facing
his two comrades, and crossing his hands un-
consciously over the great "A" on the back
of his canvas trousers, "as an article of food
may be considered as the connecting-link be-
tween the animal and the vegetable. If we
had to kill the hen to get the egg, I should
consider it a sin to eat it. What we have to
do, and that right briskly, is to eat the eggs to
prevent the fowls from increasing until they are


REE SOLDIERS. 747

numerous enough to devour every green thing
on the mountain."
"I am not so sure of that," said Philip, toy-
ing with his one dusty suspender; "we could
feed the eggs to the bear."
"We could, but we won't," said Bromley,
shaking some crumbs from the front of his
gown. When nature prompts a hen to cackle,
do you think we are expected to look the other
way? Why, Philip, you will be going back
on honey next, because bees make it. We
are vegetarians because we no longer think
it right to destroy animal life. We not only
think it wrong to destroy, but we believe it to
be our duty to preserve it wherever we find it.
Don't we spread corn on the snow in the
winter for the coons and squirrels? Come,
now! We are not vegetarians at all. We are
simply humane to a degree that leaves us to
choose between vegetable diet and starvation.
Now, then," said Bromley, spreading out his
bare arms and shrugging his shoulders, of the
two, I choose a vegetable diet; but if I could
eat half a broiled chicken without injury to the
bird, I 'd do it. That 's the sort of vegetarian
I am."
"Nonsense said Philip. "You 're a dabster
at splitting hairs, you are. It was uphill work
making a vegetarian of you, George; but we
have got you there at last, and you can't squirm
out of it."
Give it to him, Phil!" cried Coleman.
"Remind him of the salt! "
"Exactly!" continued Philip, taking a swal-
low of water from a golden cup, and addressing
himself to Bromley. When the salt was gone
you thought you 'd never enjoy another meal,
did n't you? -and how is it now? You are
honest enough to admit that you never knew
what a keen razor-edge taste was before. I '11
bet you a quart of double-eagles, George, that
you get more flavor out of a dish of com-
mon -"
At that moment a bag of sand fell through
the branches of the tree which shaded the
three soldiers as they talked. There was a
dark shadow moving over the sunlit ground,
and a rushing sound in the air above. Their
own conversation, and the noise of the water
pouring from the trough over the idle wheel






THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS.


and splashing on the stones, must have pre-
vented their hearing human voices close at
hand. Rushing out from under the trees, they
saw a huge balloon sweeping over their heads.
The enormous bag of silk, swaying and pulsat-
ing in the meshes of the netting, was a hundred
feet above the plateau; but the willow basket,
in which two men and one woman were seated,
was not more than half that distance from the
ground. The surprise, the whistling of the
monster through the air, the snapping and
rending of the drag-rope with its iron hook,
which was tearing up the turf, and which in an
instant more scattered the shingles on the roof
of their house like chaff, and carried off some
of their bedding which was airing there all
these things were so startling, and came upon
them so suddenly, that they had but little
opportunity to observe the human beings who
came so near them.
Brief as was the time, the faces of the three
strangers were indelibly impressed upon their
memory, and no portion of their dress seen
above the rim of the basket escaped their ob-
servation. The woman, who appeared to be
perfectly calm and self-possessed, kissed her
hand with a smile so enchanting, lighting a
face which seemed to the soldiers to be a face
of such angelic beauty, that they half doubted
if she could really belong to the race of earthly
women they had once known so well. The
men were not in like manner attractive to their
eyes, but seemed to be of that oily-haired, waxy-
mustached, be-ringed and "professorish" variety
which suggested ring-masters or small theatrical
managers.
Notwithstanding the rushing and creaking
of the cordage, the voices of the men in the bal-
loon had that peculiar quality of distinctness
that sound has on a lowery morning before a
storm. Indeed, each voice above them had a
vibration of its own which enabled the soldiers
to hear all commingled and yet to hear each
separately and distinctly. The hurried orders
for the management of the balloon were given
in subdued tones, and uttered with less excite-
ment than might have been expected under the
circumstances, yet the words came to the earth
with startling distinctness.
When they saw the soldiers, the taller of the


men, who wore the larger diamond in his shirt-
front, put his hand to his mouth and cried in
deafening tones:
"'Ariel,' from Charleston, 3:30 yesterday."
At the same time the beautiful lady, laying
her hand on her breast as if to indicate herself,
uttered twice the words:
"New. York! New York!"
Even while they spoke, their voices grew
softer as the balloon sped on, the great gas-bag
inclined forward by the action of the drag-
rope, its shadow flying beneath it over the sur-
face of the plateau. As soon as the two pro-
fessors saw the danger which threatened the
log-house, they began to throw out sand-bags
from both sides of the car, and the lady clung
with both hands to the guy-ropes. It was too
late, however, to prevent the contact, and the
lurch given to the basket by the momentary
hold which the grappling-hook took in the roof
of the house threw several objects to the
ground; and on its release the balloon rose'
higher in the air, carrying a U. S." blanket
streaming back from the end of the drag-rope.
The property they were bearing away was seen
by the men in the car, and the rope was taken
in with all speed; but a fresh breeze having
set in from the east, the balloon was swept rap-
idly along, so that it was well beyond the pla-
teau when the blanket fluttered loose from the
hook.
The soldiers ran after it with outstretched
arms until they came to the edge of the great
boulder, where they saw their good woolen
blanket again, still drifting downward with
funny antics through the air, until it fell noise-
lessly at the very door of the Cove post-
master.
The balloon itself was by this time soaring
above the mountains beyond the Cove, and
they kept their eyes on the receding ball until
it was only a speck among the clouds and then
vanished altogether into the pale blue of the
horizon.
The soldiers had not seen the objects tumble
out of the car when the drag-rope caught in
the shingles of their house, and the thoughts
of their wrecked roof and the lost blanket had
for the moment power to displace even the
image of the beautiful lady, whom they could


748


UULY,






THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS.


never, never forget. The pa-ring of the bal-
loon had at first dazed and a:. .J, and then
charmed and bewildered them. leamin-g them
in a state of trembling excitement impos-.ible
for the reader to conceive :lf.
They no longer had the tel-cs:.!e irth i hi h
to observe the surprise of the C(l e pn:.t-
master when he found th- gray lian-
ket with "U. S." in the center; but
they had the presence of mind to
hide behind trees, where they
waited until he came out.
He looked very small in
the distance when he
came at last, but they
could see that the object
was a man. It was evi-
dent, from his not having
been out before, that he
had not seen the balloon
pass over. He seemed to
stoop down and raise the
blanket, and then to drop
it and stand erect, and by
a tiny flash of light which
each of the soldiers saw
and knew must be the
reflection of the sun
on his spectacles, they
were sure he was look- ,.
ing at the top of the '
mountain and think-
ing of the east wind.
There was no help
for it; and when he '
disappeared into the
office with their blan- "RUSHING OUT FROM UNDER
ket, they clinked the A HUGE BALLOON SWEEPING
gold in their pockets; for they carried coin with
them now, and thought that an opportunity
might soon come for them to spend it. As
they moved away in the direction of the house,
they were sorry that the drag-rope of the bal-
loon had not fastened its hook in the plateau;
for they believed they were rich enough to buy
the coats off the backs of the two men, and the
diamonds in their shirt-fronts if they had cared
for them.
As the three soldiers neared the house,
they began to pick up the sand-bags stenciled


THE TREES, THEY SAW
OVER THEIR HEADS."


' An ld, 1.5'70.
Phl-,l ki,, 10 % was
in adi:ance, had le-
cured their. which
he sulddcnIl tlhirew ],: On
into the Lrts with a criv
'f jiy: ,for at hi- fleet lay
a b...,k '.ith an embel-
h.zhe ren : :rl ,'. er. I lie
three ,ycre aln'i'-t :s mu'h
exclre l as; the hadi been
*. hen they :i'.:.:.vereid the
i.onteFnts :A rthe ke1ie hi,''h
the\ ha.td duoe :it o' the
grave of the old man of
the mountain, and instantly
had their heads together,


believing that they were about to learn some-
thing of the condition of the old United States,
and even fearing they might read that they no
longer existed at all. They were so nervous
that they fumbled at the covers and hindered
each other; and between them, in their haste,
they dropped it on the ground. When they
had secured it again and got their six eyes on
the title-page, imagine their surprise and dis-
gust when they read, "A Treatise on Deep-
Sea Fishing "!
Bother deep-sea fishing!" exclaimed Philip.


I

.u

-
,






THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS.


"Hum! said Coleman, "it will work up
into paper for the diary."
Bromley said nothing, but looked more dis-
gusted than either of his comrades, and gave
the book, which they had dropped again, a
kick with his foot.
Their disappointment was somewhat relieved
presently, for in the chips by the door of the
house they found a small hand-bag of alligator
leather, marked with three silver letters, "E.
Q. R." The key was attached to the lock by
a ribbon; and as soon as the bag could be
opened, Coleman seized upon another small
book which was called "The Luck of Roaring
Camp." The author was one Francis Bret Harte,
of whom they had never before heard. The
book was a new one, for it bore "1870" on the
title-page, and the leaves were uncut except at
a particular story entitled Miggles."
Besides this book the bag contained numer-
Sous little trinkets, among which the most useful
article was a pair of scissors. They found three
dainty linen handkerchiefs with monograms, a
cut-glass vinaigrette containing salts of ammo-
nia, a bit of chamois-skin dusty with a white
powder, a tooth-brush, and a box of the tooth-
powder aforesaid, a brush and comb, a box of
bonbons, a pair of tan-colored gloves, a button-
hook, and an opened letter addressed to a lady
in New York City.
The letter bore the post-mark, Liverpool,
August 13," and was stamped at the New York
office, "Aug. 20, 2 P. M." Here was evidence
of progress. Seven days from Liverpool to New
York!
The envelope had been torn off at the lower
right-hand corner in opening, so that it was im-
possible to tell whether the letters "U. S." or
C. S." had been below "New York." The
soldiers cut the leaves of the book, and glanced
hurriedly over the pages without finding any-
thing to clear up the mystery which interested
them most. They sat -down on the wood-pile,
sorely disappointed, to talk over the events of
the day; and presently they began clipping off
their long beards with the scissors, and using
the brush and comb, to which their heads had
so long been strangers. The experience was all
so strange that but for the treasures left behind,
not counting the treatise on deep-sea fishing,


they might have doubted the reality of the pas-
sage of their aerial visitor.
When it came to a division of the trifles from
the hand-bag, they had just a handkerchief
apiece. Bromley accepted the tooth-brush and
the button-hook as useless keepsakes. The vin-
aigrette fell to Philip, while Lieutenant Cole-
man, more practical than the others, took for
his share the bit of chamois-skin and the box
of what they believed to be tooth-powder.
The letter found in the bag was a subject of
heated discussion, and from motives of chival-
rous delicacy remained for a long time un-
opened. George Bromley contended that its
contents might throw some light on the subject
which the books had left in obscurity, while
Lieutenant Coleman shrank from offering such
an indignity to the memory of the angelic lady
of the air. It was finally agreed that Brom-
ley might examine and then destroy it, Lieu-
tenant Coleman declining to be made ac-
quainted with its contents.
They never quite understood the association
of the beautiful lady with the two men, of whom
they had but a poor opinion. When Bromley
suggested that to their starved eyes a cook
might seem a princess, his comrades were suf-
ficiently indignant, and reminded him of her
literary taste, as shown by the quality of the
new book found in the bag.
After all, they had learned nothing of the
great secret that vexed their lives. Was there
still in existence a starry flag bearing any sem-
blance to this one which was now floating over
the mountain? Was it still loved in the land
and respected on the sea ?
To men who had seen it bent forward under
the eagles of the old republic, gray in the stifling
powder-clouds, falling and rising in the storm
of battle, a pale ghost of a flag, fluttering col-
orless on the plain or climbing the stubborn
mountain, human lives falling like leaves for
its upholding--this was the burning question.

When the nine small gunny-sacks marked
"Ariel, 1870," were emptied on the floor of
the house, the creatures of the Atlantic's sands
had found a resting-place on the summit of
Whiteside Mountain, and might yet furnish
evidence to some grave scientist of the future


750


[JULY,






THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS.


to prove beyond a doubt that the sea at no
very remote period had surged above the peaks
of the Blue Ridge. Starfish, shells, and bones,
and fragments of the legs of spider-crabs, horse-
shoe-crabs, and crayfish, and some very active
sand-fleas afforded much scientific amusement
to our exiles, and brought vividly to mind the
boom of the sea and the whitebait and whales
that wiggle-waggle in its depth.
Neither the telescope nor the army blanket
with U. S." in the center, nor the two com-
bined, had brought any visitors to the three
soldiers, nor any information of the real state
of affairs in the United States, which would
quickly have terminated their exile.
The very pathetic and amusing volume of
stories found in the alligator-skin bag caused
more tears and healthy laughter than the sol-
diers had given way to since their great disap-
pointment, and actually brought about such
neglect of the October work on the plantation
that more than half the potato crop rotted in
the ground.
On the 2ist of that month in this very bal-
loon year, the area of Sherman Territory was
extended by the addition of half an acre of
rocks and brambles on the boulder side of
the mountain, and afterward of much more, as
will be shown in due time.
The twenty-first day of October in the year
'70, then, was a lowery day. A strong, humid
wind was blowing steadily across the mountain
and soughing in the boughs of the pines, while
the low clouds, westward bound, flew in ragged
rifts overhead. It was a pleasant wind to feel,
and the rising and falling cadence of its song
reminded the soldiers of a wind from the sea.
In the successive seasons they had gleaned
the grove so thoroughly, even cutting the dry
limbs from the trees, that they were now
obliged to search under the carpet of needles
for the fat pine-knots which formerly lay in
abundance on the surface.
At the extreme southern end of the tongue
of land on which the pines grew, a solitary
stump clung in the base of the cliff. The outer
fiber of the wood had crumbled away, leaving
the resinous heart and the tough roots firmly


bedded in the soil. They had been chopping
and digging for an hour before they loosened
and removed the central mass. Continuing
their quest for one of the great roots which ran
into the earth under the cliff, George dealt a
vigorous stroke on the rotten stone and earth
behind, which yielded so unexpectedly that he
lost his footing and at the same time his hold
on the ax, which promptly disappeared into
the bowels of the earth. They heard it ring
upon the rocks below with strange echoes, as
if it had fallen into a subterraneous cavern. At
the same time the wind rushed through the
opening in a current warmer than the sur-
rounding atmosphere, and brought with it a
strong, stifling smell, as if they had entered
a menagerie in August. As soon as the soldiers
recovered from their surprise, they set vigorously
to work for the recovery of the ax, attacking
the loose earth with their gold-tipped shovel
and with the tough oaken handspike with
which they had been prying at the stump.
Their efforts rapidly enlarged the opening, and
presently the great root itself tumbled in after
the ax. Philip ran to the house for a light,
and by the time he returned with a blazing
torch, Coleman and Bromley had enlarged the
opening under the cliff until it was wide enough
to admit their bodies easily. All was dark-
ness, even blackness, within, and the rank ani-
mal smell was as offensive as ever, so that
Philip held his nose in disgust.
By passing the torch into the opening of the
cavern they could see the ax lying on the
earthen floor ten feet below, and to the right
the overlapping strata of granite seemed to of-
fer a rude stairway for their descent. George
entered at once, with the torch in one hand,
and in the other the handspike with which to
test his footing in advance. In another mo-
ment he stood on the hard floor by the ax, and
the light of his torch revealed the rocky sides
of a cavern stretching away to the south along
the side of the mountain. Coleman provided
himself with one of the fattest of the pine-
knots, and immediately descended into the
cavern after Bromley. With some hesitation
Philip followed.
continued )









































DAYS OF ENGLAND'S QUEEN.

By JAMES CASSIDY


ON a dark day in November, 1817, died
Princess Charlotte, the daughter of George IV.,
and heiress to the British throne.
A year and a half passed away, and there
dawned a happier day for the saddened nation.
It was the birthday of the baby daughter of
the Duke of Kent, one of the uncles of the
Princess Charlotte. This Duke of Kent left
England and had been living on the Continent
as a soldier.
He returned to England with his wife, the
Duchess, in I819, when he was quite a middle-
aged man; and not long after his coming their
daughter was born on British soil.


It was in Kensington Palace that the baby-
girl was born. The Duchess, a German lady,
was a widow when the Duke of Kent married
her, and she had two children living on the
Continent, so that the infant Princess had a
half-sister and a half-brother.
"Take care of her," her father frequently
used to say; "for she will be Queen of Eng-
land some day."
When the child was a few months old she
was christened; and the christening was a very
grand affair. No common marble or stone
font was used: a gold font was thought neces-
sary. And so a gold font was brought from


Ir


GIRLHOOD


I~ -'-'::*-*
11:'1





GIRLHOOD DAYS OF ENGLAND'S QUEEN.


the Tower of London, where it had been kept
for safety.
One 6f her sponsors was Czar Alexander of
Russia; and hence it was that the name chosen
for the baby was Alexandrina Victoria, the
second name being that of her mother.
A fine, healthy, lively child, with blue eyes
and fair hair, was the Princess, and it seems
she suffered little from the trials of infancy.
When she was about six months old, the
Duke decided to cheat the winter by removing
his little daughter to the beautiful county of
Devon, with its mild and salubrious air. A
pretty cottage at Woolbrook Glen, near Sid-
mouth, East Devon, was rented; and thither
the Duke and Duchess, their baby, and a few
household servants repaired. Every day a
careful nurse carried the little girl out for an
airing. Sometimes she kept quite close to the
house; at others she ventured farther afield.
One day when she was walking little Victoria
about near the cottage, a bullet whizzed within
an inch or so of the child's head. It was sent
by a careless school-boy who was amusing him-
self by shooting a little distance away. The lad
was quickly brought before the Duke; but re-
ceiving nothing worse than a severe reprimand
for his carelessness, he left the Duke's presence
promising to be careful in future, and rejoicing
that his recklessness had done no harm.
Beautiful county as Devonshire is, it does not
escape heavy rains. It happened that Duke
Edward was out in the lanes upon one of these
soaking days, and took a severe cold, which
ultimately developed into an illness that resulted
in his death, so within a few days the Princess
was fatherless.
When the Duke knew that he was dying he
had his will drawn up, and by it he named and
appointed his beloved wife, Victoire, Duchess
of Kent, sole guardian of our dear child, the
Princess Alexandrina Victoria."
The Duchess returned to Kensington. She
knew that in the carrying out of her late hus-
band's wishes great sacrifices would be entailed
upon her. She would be called upon to give
up all idea of returning to her own land and
her other children; for "little 'Drina," as the
infant Princess was at this time called, must be
brought up and educated in England. Writing
VOL. XXIV.- 95.


to her brother Leopold to ask his assistance,
she set about getting ready, without loss of
time, for the journey to London.
As Uncle Leopold looked down into the cra-
dle of his little niece, he promised his bereaved
sister to be a father to her fatherless baby; and
he was faithful to his word. He sometimes
called her his adopted daughter," and ever
showed her the tenderest affection and kindness.
The Duke of Kent, who had always received
from his father a smaller allowance than his el-
der brothers, died in debt; and the brave Duch-
ess, with her brother's help, struggled hard to
pay her husband's debts, for she knew that the
Duke had made every effort to pay them, and
would have wished her to do so. Therefore
during some years it was necessary for her and
her little daughter to live very frugally, consider-
ing their high rank.
The good William Wilberforce tells that he
was upon one occasion invited to the presence
of the Duchess of Kent. ." She received me,"
he wrote, with her fine, animated child on the
floor by her side, busy with its playthings of
which I soon became one Indeed, through-
out 'Drina's childish days we find her never
far from her mother's side.
On her fourth birthday the child received a
present from King George IV.-" Uncle King"
she had been taught to call him. It was a minia-
ture portrait of himself, richly set in diamonds.
The King also gave a state dinner-party to the
Duchess and her little daughter.
Until Victoria was five years old the only
money her mother received upon which to
bring up and educate the child was that gener-
ously allowed her by Uncle Leopold." But
when the child was five, George IV. sent a
message to Parliament asking that a suitable
allowance be made. Not long afterward Par-
liament voted the yearly payment of 6000o
($30,000) to the Duchess for the proper bring-
ing up of the Princess; but not even then did
her mother's brother withdraw his generous
allowance.
It was only when he became King of the
Belgians in 1831, and thought it right to forego
the 35,000 ($75,ooo000) a year allowed him by
England, that he ceased to allow his sister
3000 ($i5,000), as he had done for years.






GIRLHOOD DAYS OF ENGLAND'S QUEEN.


The tutor chosen by 'Drina's mother for her
daughter was Dr. Davys, and nobly this good
man did his work. Her governess was a very
accomplished lady, the Baroness Lehzen.
A Mr. Knight who was on one occasion
passing through Kensington Gardens has told
us that he observed "at some distance a party
consisting of several ladies, a young child, and
two men-servants, having in charge a donkey
gaily caparisoned with blue ribbons and accou-
tred for the use of the infant. On approaching
them, the little one replied, to my respectful rec-
ognition with a pleasant' Good morning,' and
I noted that she was equally polite to all who
politely greeted her."
There was an occupation in which the wee
woman of seven years, wearing a simple white
gown and large straw hat, was frequently seen
engaged. It was watering the garden plants.
One of those who saw her said that as he some-
times watched her intently at work, he won-
dered which would get the most water, the
plants or her own little feet !
The Princess was an early riser, getting up
at seven, frequently earlier in the summer, and
breakfasting at eight o'clock. Her breakfast
was just such as any well-cared-for little girl,
who was not a princess, might be expected to
enjoy: bread-and-milk and fruit, placed on a
small table by her mother's side.
When breakfast was finished the little Princess
went for a walk or a drive, while her half-sister,
Feodore, her almost constant companion, stud-
ied with her governess. From ten to twelve
the Duchess instructed 'Drina, after which she
was at liberty to wander at will through the
rooms, or to play with her many costly toys.
Two o'clock was the dinner-hour of the Prin-
cess, though the luncheon-hour of the Duchess.
Plain food, nicely cooked, was placed before
the little girl; and she did it justice, for she
was healthy and strong, and enjoyed her meals.
After dinner she received assistance in her
studies till four o'clock, when she was taken by
her mother to visit a friend, or perhaps to walk
or drive, or she was permitted to ride a don-
key in the gardens.
At the dinner-hour of the Duchess her little
girl supped, seated next to her mother. Then
came a romp with her nurse, Mrs. Brock. By


the time the romp was finished the house-party
would be at their dessert, and then the Princess
would be called in to join them.
Nine o'clock was bedtime, and she never
prolonged her day beyond that hour. No
matter whether she was at home or at the
house of a friend, "nine-o'clock bedtime was
rigidly enforced." Her little bed was placed
beside her mother's larger bed, so that by day
and night mother and daughter were never
far apart.
Regular study, regular exercise, simple food,
and plenty of time out of doors, plenty of play
and plenty of sleep, distinguished the up-bring-
ing of England's future Queen.
Sometimes during the summer months the
maiden and her mother partook of breakfast
on one of the lawns in Kensington Gardens.
One who saw them at this early hour wrote
thus about it: "As I passed along the broad
central walk, I saw a group on the lawn before
the palace which, to my mind, was a vision
of exquisite loveliness. The Duchess of Kent
and her daughter, whose years then numbered
nine, are breakfasting in the open air, a single
page attending upon them at a respectful dis-
tance; the matron looking on with eye of love,
while the fair, soft face is bright with smiles."
There is a short story connected with one
of 'Drina's visits which you may like to read.
While she and her mother were visiting
Earl Fitzwilliam, at Wentworth House, it is
said that she found great delight in running
alone in the garden and shrubberies.
One morning, when the ground was very wet,
she was thus disporting herself when the old
gardener, unaware of the little visitor's name
and rank, noticed that she intended to run
down a treacherous piece of ground. Anxious
to prevent a tumble, he called out: "Be care-
ful, missie! it's slape (this being the Yorkshire
word for" slippery"). The new word struck the
ear of the Princess, and turning round quickly,
she asked: What 's slape ? At that moment
her feet flew from under her, and down she
fell. Up ran the old gardener, carefully as-
sisting her to rise, and saying slowly as he did
so, That's slape, miss." Another version of
the story adds that Earl Fitzwilliam called out:
Now your Royal Highness has an explana-


[JULY,





GIRLHOOD DAYS OF ENGLAND'S QUEEN.


tion of the term slape.' Yes, my lord," the
Princess replied; "I think I have. I shall
never forget the word 'slape.' "
Although 'Drina was permitted to enjoy
plenty of play, nothing was allowed to interfere
with her studies, for by this time it had be-
come pretty evident to all who were inter-
ested in the question of the succession, that
the little Princess was likely at no distant
day to become England's Queen. King
George IV., who was old, had no children; and
his next brother, who afterward became King
under the title of William IV.,-" the Sailor
King," as people called him,-had lost his
children; so that after her two uncles, George
and William, Alexandrina Victoria, daughter of
the deceased Duke of Kent, had clearly the
right of succession. The Duchess never lost
sight of this right; and the child's education
was such as befitted a future Queen, though
throughout her early childhood she was kept
in ignorance of the high position that prob-
ably would be hers.
When she had studied for six years under the
direction of her mother, tutor, and governess,
and various visiting masters and mistresses, she
could speak fluently French, German, and Ital-
ian. She could also have put to shame many a
modem school-boy by her easy reading of Virgil
and Horace. She had begun Greek and stud-
ied mathematics, in which difficult science she
had made good progress. Nor had she neg-
lected music and drawing.
There were in the life of the Princess days
when she longed for companions of her own
age. Her mother, guessing this longing, was
very tender and gentle with her, and considered
often how best to make up for this lack. Once
the Duchess, it is said, thinking to please her
daughter, sent for a noted child-performer of
the day, called 'Lyra,' that she might amuse
'Drina with some remarkable performances on
the harp. On one occasion," writes the biog-
rapher, while the young musician was playing
one of her favorite airs, the Duchess, perceiving
how deeply her daughter's attention was en-
grossed with the music, left the room for a few
minutes. When she returned she found the
harp deserted. The heiress of England had
beguiled the juvenile minstrel from her instru-


ment by the display of some of her costly toys,
and the children were discovered, seated side
by side on the hearth-rug, in a state of high
enjoyment, surrounded by the Princess's play-
things, from which she was making the most
liberal selections for the acceptance of poor lit-
tle Lyra."
There was one visitor at Kensington Palace
whom 'Drina loved to see a visitor who took
her on his knee and told her all sorts of won-
derful things about familiar plants, and rambled
with her about the gardens and fields to find
specimens for object-lessons. This kindly vis-
itor was her Uncle Leopold. He took the
deepest interest in her education; it was
probably for him that the Baroness Lehzen
kept a daily journal of her pupil's studies,
submitting it once a month for his inspection.
Uncle Leopold was an accomplished gentleman,
and his little niece learned a great deal from
his conversation and teaching. This true friend
never flattered her. He knew her to be good
and attractive, but was not blind to her childish
imperfections. He recognized that she was
impulsive, and sometimes wilful and imperious;
but he trusted to her affectionate nature and
the excellent training she was receiving to cor-
rect these faults.
He detected, too, a fine sense of justice in
her nature, which always led her readily to ac-
knowledge her fault, and to ask forgiveness of
those whom she had in any way wronged.
Her favorite outdoor exercise was riding, and
a kind little mistress she was to the pony given
her by her uncle the Duke of York. She pet-
ted it and showed it the greatest consideration.
She had always been fond of animals. Don-
keys, ponies, horses, dogs, birds, and even some
wilder creatures, were among her pets.
The happiest days of the Queen's childhood,
as she herself has testified, were spent at Clare-
mont the beautiful home of Uncle Leopold.
The older 'Drina grew, the deeper became her
affection for her good uncle. It was sad news
to the child that a proposal had been made
to place him on the throne of Greece, and
she was very glad when the project fell through,
for she did not wish her dear uncle to leave
England.
Turning over the pages of the Queen's "Jour-






GIRLHOOD DAYS OF ENGLAND'S QUEEN.


nal," we find a reference to a visit paid to Clare-
mont in 1842, five years after her accession.
She was then accompanied by Prince Albert, her
husband, and her own little girl, and her Uncle
Leopold was at Brussels. She wrote to him:
This place brings back recollections of my otherwise
dull childhood days, when I experienced such kindness
from you, dearest Uncle. Victoria plays with my old


... ., -. ,.



A WING OF KENSINGTON PALACE, WHERE QUEEN VICTORIA W,

bricks, and I see her running and jumping in the flower-
garden, as old (though I feel still little) Victoria of former
days used to do.
Claremont was not the only place visited by
the Princess. We find stories of journeyings
to Sidmouth, Malvern, Ramsgate, Tunbridge
Wells, Broadstairs, and elsewhere.
On a road in Malvern named, out of compli-
ment to her Majesty, the Queen's Road, there
stood, and maybe now stands, a large house


where the Princess and the Duchess stayed for
a time. The young lady was a "great romp
,and a rattle," we are assured by those who
should know. Nor did she confine her ex-
ploits to the level ground. She liked to climb
walls and trees. It is told that one day, while
staying at Malvern, she climbed an apple-tree.
That was easy enough; but next came the
harder task of descending. In vain she placed
one small foot before the other: she dared not
\enturc. though again and again she tried. So
.;lie did what, most likely, you would have
done had you been in her sorry plight:
she began to cry. Her cries drew to
the spot a gardener, named Davis;
and he, fetching a ladder, soon
brought her safely down from her
Dangerous position. For his trouble
a reward of a guinea was given him,
-- and this coin, the reward for rescuing
S the Princess, may still be seen by
the curious, neatly framed.
A certain story associated with
Tunbridge Wells illustrates how sen-
sibly she was treated. At a bazaar
in that town the little girl had spent
all her money-most unselfishly it
must be admitted, for she had been
buying presents for her friends. A
pretty box arrested her attention, and
she said to her governess:
"How I should like to buy that
box for so-and-so ",- whom she men-
Stioned by name,-"but it is half
a crown, and I've spent all my
money !"
The saleswoman, saying, "That
is of no consequence," proposed to
inclose it with the other articles.
The Baroness Lehzen objected, as
the Princess was not allowed to buy upon
credit, but only for ready money. The sales-
woman immediately offered to put by the box
for her, and this was gladly agreed to. It was
quite early one morning, some time afterward,
when the young Princess, mounted on a donkey,
appeared at the shop. She had received her
allowance, and had come to buy the coveted
treasure!
At Brighton and Ramsgate the Duchess and


[JULY,






1897.] GIRLHOOD DAYS OF

her daughter seem to have experienced a great
deal of rudeness; for the people flocked together
to stare at them, and wherever they went there
came crowds as if determined to deny them the
peace of privacy. One pleasant incident is
connected with the Ramsgate visit. A kind
and very wealthy Hebrew gentleman, Sir Moses
Montefiore, who owned a magnificent estate,
sent the Princess a golden key that admitted
her to his private grounds. Thither she could
retire, from the rude, eagerly pressing crowds
when she wished to take unobserved a walk for
her health.
This kind and loyal gentleman lived to be
over a hundred years old, and to the last he had
the most loyal affection for his Queen.
Sometimes the Duchess and her child re-
ceived invitations to the famous and beautiful
country-seats of the English nobility; and these
were often gladly accepted, to the delight of
the Princess.
Some of the early years of Victoria for by
this name she preferred to be known, desiring
that her mother's name should be second to
none-were passed pleasantly at Norris Castle;
and it was here that she first acquired her love
of ships and the sea. The yacht in which she,
with the Duchess, cruised about was the Em-
erald"; and in that little vessel they visited
various parts of the coast of the Isle of Wight,
venturing at times to places as far remote as
Plymouth and Torquay. On board this small
craft the Princess had a narrow escape from
what might have proved a serious accident.
She was standing on deck when a long spar,
with sail attached, fell; and had not the pilot
shown sufficient presence of mind to hurry the
Princess aside, she must have been severely
wounded, if not permanently disabled or killed.
On the thirteenth birthday of the Princess
Victoria she was taken to a party given in her
honor by the IKing and Queen. At the party
she behaved so sweetly and unaffectedly, and
thought so much more of others than of her-
self, that every one was charmed with her. Yet
even a state party was no excuse for late hours,
and the young lady retired to rest at her usual
time. Three years later, at the Marquis of
Exeter's, the Princess was sent to bed after the
first dance. Thus, even as late as sixteen years


ENGLANDS QUEEN. 757
of age we find her cheerfully obedient to her
mother's strict discipline.
"I am anxious to bring you up as a good
woman, and then you will be a good Queen,"
was one of her sayings to her daughter. How
well she succeeded the whole civilized world is
witness.
There was another lady who assisted largely
in the education of the Princess and the for-
mation of her character. This was the Duch-
ess of Northumberland, a noble-hearted and
cultivated Englishwoman of the county of
Kent. The accomplishments of the Duchess
of Northumberland were many, and her in-
fluence over her pupil was strong and of the
highest kind. She was assisted by the Baroness
Lehzen, already mentioned.
Another of Victoria's instructors was her
singing-master, Lablache. The Princess had a
sweet, clear voice, and under Lablache's tui-
tion she learned to sing charmingly, and with
expression.
We are sure you would like to read Mrs.
Oliphant's account of the personal appearance
of the little Princess. Many have written more
enthusiastically about her, but perhaps none
more truthfully and calmly. She writes:

I do not suppose the Queen was ever beautiful, though
that is a word which is used to describe many persons
whose features would not bear any severe test of beauty;
but yet her face was one which you would have re-
marked anywhere had she been only Miss Victoria.
She had not much color in her youth, and it was a time
of simplicity, when girls wore their pretty hair in a natu-
ral way, without swelling it out by artificial means, or
building it up like towers on their heads, and when their
dresses were very simple, almost childish, in their plain-
ness.
All this increased the appearance of youth and natu-
ralness and innocence in the young Queen, and I remem-
ber very distinctly when I saw her first, being myself
very young, how the calm, full look of her eyes impressed
and affected me. Those eyes were very blue, serene,
still, looking at you with a tranquil breadth of expression
which somehow conveyed to your mind a feeling of un-
questioned power and greatness, quite practical in its
serious simplicity. I do not suppose she was at all
aware of this, for the Queen does not take credit for be-
ing so calmly royal; but this is how she looked to a fan-
ciful girl seeing her Majesty for the first time.

It was not until the Princess Victoria was
over twelve that she was made aware of her






GIRLHOOD DAYS OF ENGLAND'S QUEEN.


place in the succession, and informed how near
she stood to becoming heiress of the British
crown. But the Baroness Lehzen shall tell the
story of the informing of her pupil upon this
important point. Writing to the Queen, in the
evening of her days, from her own country,
whither she had returned after her years of
faithful service, the ex-governess says :

I ask your Majesty's leave to cite some remarkable
words of your Majesty when only twelve years old,
while the Regency Bill was still in progress. I then
said to the Duchess of Kent that now for the first time
your Majesty ought to know your place in the succes-
sion. Her Royal Highness agreed with me, and I put
the genealogical table into the historical book. When
Dr. Davys [the instructor of the Princess, and afterward
Bishop of Peterborough] was gone, the Princess again
opened the book, as usual, and noticing the additional pa-
per, said: I never saw that before."
"It was not thought necessary you should, Princess,"
I answered.
"I see I am nearer the throne than I thought."
"So it is, Madam," I said.
After some moments the Princess resumed: "Now
many a child would boast, but they don't know the diffi-
culty. There is much splendor,but much responsibility."
The Princess having lifted up the forefinger of her
little hand, saying," I will be good, dear Lehzen, Iwillbe
good," I then said, "But your Aunt Adelaide is still young,
and may have children; and of course they will ascend
the throne after their father William IV., and not you,
Princess."
The Princess answered: "And if that were so, I
should never feel disappointed; for I know, by the love
Aupt Adelaide bears me, how fond she is of children."

When Queen Adelaide lost her last daugh-
ter, she wrote to the Duchess of Kent: My
children are dead, but your child lives, and she
is mine also."
Glancing at the page of Sir Walter Scott's
diary for May 19, 1828, the Princess being
nine years of age at that time, we read the fol-
lowing entry:

Dined with the Duchess of Kent. I was very kindly
received by Prince Leopold, and presented to the little
Victoria-the heir apparent to the crown, as things now
stand. The little lady is educated.with much care, and
watched so closely that no busy maid has a moment to
whisper, You are the heir of England."

A tender consideration for others always dis-
tinguished the Princess, as it has ever charac-
terized the Queen. There are many stories


told illustrative of this good trait. The follow-
ing is one of the best:
The Princess "was in the habit of amusing
herself by going incognito in a carriage to dif-


THE DUKE OF KENT, QUEEN VICTORS FATHER.
THE DUKE OF KENT, QUEEN VICTORIA'S FATHER.


ferent shops, and not only making purchases
herself, but observing with interest the move-
ments of others." One day she entered a Lon-
don jeweler's. There came into the jeweler's
a young and intelligent lady, who was engaged
in looking over different gold chains for the
neck. She at length fixed upon one, but find-
ing the price more than she expected, she re-
garded the chain very wistfully. Could it not
be offered cheaper ? she inquired. 'Impos-
sible,' was the reply. Reluctantly the disap-
pointed young lady gave up all idea of the
chain, and purchased a cheaper article.
"After she had left, the Princess, who had
observed everything, inquired of the jeweler
who she was; and on receiving satisfactory in-
formation, she ordered the much-admired chain
to be packed up and sent to the young lady.
A card was forwarded with it, with the intima-
tion that the Princess Victoria had observed
her prudence against strong temptation to the
contrary, and that she desired her acceptance
of the beautiful thing, and hoped that she would
always persevere in purchasing only what she
could afford."
Was the good Princess thinking of her own


[JULY,





GIRLHOOD DAYS OF ENGLAND'S QUEEN.


early exercises in keeping within her income ?
Did she remember the pretty box at Ramsgate
bazaar, and the judicious decision of her gov-
erness in the matter ?
The little Victoria was no dull-witted child.
When she was about twelve years old she had
been reading, as a classical lesson, the well-
known story of Cornelia, the mother of the
Gracchi: how upon an occasion she presented
to the proud and ostentatious Roman dame
who was wearing a wonderful array of dia-
monds and precious stones, her sons, with the
words, These are my jewels."
She should have said my Cornelians," was
Victoria's mischievous comment.
It was in May, 1836, that visitors from the
continent arrived at Kensington Palace. They
were the Duke of Saxe-Coburg, an uncle of
the Princess, and his two sons, Ernest and Al-
bert, cousins of Victoria. A pleasant month
they spent in England a month of splendor
and excitement," very different from the usual
months passed in their own quiet home.
The following May was even more magnifi-
cent; for it was upon the twenty-fourth of that
month, in the year 1837, that the Princess be-
came legally of age, attaining her seventeenth
birthday; and the whole nation rejoiced over the
glad event.
The King himself was very ill; but kind mes-
sages were sent from Windsor, accompanied
by the present of a beautiful piano, to the
acknowledged "heir apparent." There was a
state-ball that night at St. James's Palace. The
King, of course, could not attend; and Queen
Adelaide would not leave her husband's side.
The Princess Victoria succeeded to the throne
upon the death of her uncle William IV., and


was crowned the next year, at the age of nine-
teen. Since her coronation the story of her
happy reign has been part of the history of
England.
The year 1897 celebrates the diamond jubi-
lee of the reign of Britain's beloved Queen.
For sixty years she has swayed the royal scep-
ter with dignity and graciousness, and her name


LEOPOLD I, KING OF THE BELGIANS -PRINCESS VICTORIA'S
"UNCLE LEOPOLD."
is honored and beloved throughout the length
and the breadth of the British Empire. It is
upon an occasion such as this that we fondly look
back to the child-life of Victoria, when, as the
young daughter of the widowed Duchess, she
was so wisely trained for her great life-work.


t ilk;'I,
.:W tad.


A W11A~f~











HONORS TO THE FLAG IN CAMP


AND ARMORY.


BY CHARLES SYDNEY CLARK.


__' LL -.A j' i-
GUARD SALUTING THE COLORS IN THE SEVENTH REGIMENT ARMORY, NEW YORK.


WHEN the tide of summer travel is flowing
steadily up and down the beautiful Hudson,
there are few boys and girls with sharp eyes
who fail to notice, as they stand on the deck
of the day-boat, two flags waving above the
tree-tops at the right of the southern entrance
to the Highlands. If their curiosity is aroused,
and they borrow field-glasses and examine the
flags more closely, they see under them gleams
of white between the trees which indicate the
presence of tents, and then they know they are
looking at the famous State Camp of Instruc-
tion of the New York National Guard.
Here, for six weeks in summer, thousands of


young men live under canvas, learning how to
defend their country in time of need. Their
life in camp has often been described, and it
is not of that I wish to tell, but of the lesson in
patriotism and respect for their Colors which
is taught to them every day of the time they
spend there a lesson which no American boy
or girl can too soon learn.
There are few prettier sights anywhere than
the parade which every evening, rain or shine,
Sunday or week-day, occurs at the camp while
it is open. In front of the city of tents, and to
the south of it, running to the edge of the high
bluff which abuts on Annsville Creek, is a wide






HONORS TO THE FLAG IN CAMP AND ARMORY.


green plain; and there, every day, just before
sunset, the line is formed. There are often
in the camp from 100ooo to 1200 men, a force
four times as large as that usually stationed at
an army post or at West Point, so that very
few people in this country ever see a parade
of so many soldiers at any other military post.
As the troops march out of their company
streets by columns of fours, in full-dress uni-
form with white trousers, every button and belt-
plate and gun-barrel glittering, and form battal-
ions, and then regimental or brigade line, the
visitors who come from far and near to see
the ceremony always seem to be delighted with
the beauty of the picture before them.
Well they may be, for even in our own beau-
tiful land there are not many landscapes more
beautiful than that which forms the background.
Behind the troops the Highlands tower up,
darkly blue, and between them can be seen
glimpses of the shining! river. Just over the
crest of the highest hill is the red orb of the
setting sun, and the sunset hues paint with red,
white, and blue the white tents closer at hand.
Silence, unbroken except by the twitter of birds
going to rest, and the mellow tones of the
"Angelus sounding out across the bay from
a neighboring church, is over all. The plain
seems like a great stage set with beautiful scen-
ery for an impressive ceremony which man and
nature await in silence.
And now the actors begin their parts. The
sun's disk dips a little behind the mountain.
"Sir, bring your battalion to parade rest,"
commands the adjutant to the senior major,
and then tells the drum-major to sound off."
The great band, with the field-music behind it,
marches up and down the line, playing before
the Colors, as of old minstrels played before
the king. As soon as the band has returned
to its place the drums and fifes strike up a sad,
sweet air which long, long ago was sung in
Scotland when war had taken away their brav-
est and best; and when this mournful air is fin-
ished the bugles play that beautiful Retreat "
which, like Great Britain's gun-fire, goes around
the world every night; for it is played wherever
our army or war-ships may be.
Meanwhile, three men from the guard have
approached each flag-pole, and have loosened
VOL. XXIV.-96-97.


the halyards ready to lower the garrison Colors
and State ensign floating gently in the even-
ing air over the heads of the troops. The sun
disappears behind the mountain, the strains of
Retreat" die away, and Fire I cries an ar-
tillery sergeant. The big brass gun on the
bluff spits out fire, a report like a peal of thun-
der echoes and reechoes among the hills, and
an answering roar from West Point, ten miles
away, awakens the echoes up the river.
And now begins that part of the ceremony
to which all the preceding has been a prelude.
The troops are there, the band is there, the
generals have all come from their tents, to
honor the Colors.
The band begins "The Star-Spangled Ban-
ner." "Battalions, attention!" orders the ad-
jutant. Instantly every man in the camp, ex-
cept those in the line and on guard, rises and
uncovers his head. All around the camp, as
far as one can see, every sentry faces out-
ward and presents arms. Slowly, inch by inch,
the Colors glide down the staffs, out of the
evening glow into the shadow of the moun-
tains, and as the notes accompanying the words
"the home of the'brave" are reached by the
band, touch the hands of the waiting guard.
The military day is over. There are few men
and women or boys and girls there who will
not always feel, after they have seen that fare-
well to the Flag, that they understand as they
never did before why men will die to uphold a
sentiment-to protect a "piece of bunting."
It is not only at parade that our citizen-sol-
diers show respect to their Colors: they do so
on all proper occasions. Sometimes at State
camps, and always at temporary camps, a color-
line is located in front of the camp. A line of
stacks of rifles is made, and across the two cen-
ter stacks are laid the Regimental Colors. A
guard of picked sentries is placed near the
color-line, and they require every one, be he
soldier or civilian, who crosses the line to re-
move his hat. Any one who does not is likely
to have his hat knocked off, or to be arrested.
Sentries always pay honors to the Colors pass-
ing," in camp or armory; and officers and men
not under arms always uncover when the Flag
is carried past by other troops. An officer review-
ing a regiment uncovers when passing the Col-






HONORS TO THE FLAG IN CAMP AND ARMORY.


ors, and when the Colors pass him. Bringing
the Colors to a regiment from the colonel's
quarters is always an occasion of great cere-
mony. Sometimes an entire company is sent
as escort, and when it returns the regiment
presents arms, and the field-music plays to the
Colors." It stands at attention again when the
Colors are taken back to the colonel.
In some regiments a ceremony is performed
called Swearing Allegiance to the Colors."
The Flag is brought in by an escort, and placed
in the center of a hollow square. Then the
colonel speaks to the regiment of the duty it
owes to the Flag; and at a signal each officer


less or ignorant people who have never realized
what the Flag stands for. A few years ago, when
ST. NICHOLAS told of Honors to the Flag," *
a man or woman in New York who rose in an
armory at "retreat," or who saluted a regi-
mental flag, would have been remarked. Now
any one who does not do these things will soon
be considered as unmannerly as a man who
should wear his hat in the house or in church.
Our boys and girls are taught in the public
schools to salute the Flag at the opening ex-
ercises; and even the little Polish and Italian
children, recently from Europe, bring up their
little hands in salute when they see the Flag.


4,~ ,,~
:C p


LOWERING THE COLORS. THE CEREMONY OF



LOWERING THE COLORS. THE CEREMONY OF


"RETREAT," IN THE STATE CAMP AT PEEKSKILL, NEW YORK.


and man takes off his helmet, raises his hand, Sir Walter Besant, the eminent English novel-
and swears to honor and defend the Flag. This ist, said, when he went back to England after a
ceremony is usually performed when a large visit here, that nothing he saw in America im-
number of recruits are for the first time in pressed him so deeply as the devotion of our
the ranks, and never fails to bring tears to young people to their Flag; that nowhere except
the eyes of many- tears of which they should among British soldiers had he seen such affection
be proud, and respect for a national emblem; and that a
All these evidences of honor and respect to nation which as a whole felt as we seemed to
the Colors make upon civilians an impression feel about our Colors from the time we left our
which is very deep; and gradually the Army mothers' knees, was one that could withstand
and the National Guard are educating thought- the world in arms.
See ST. NICHOLAS for December, 1891.










MISS NINA BARROW.

BY FRANCES COURTENAY BAYLOR.


[This story was begun in the February number.]

CHAPTER X.
DAYS AT AUBREY.

THE bell Nina had heard was for prayers,
and the nursery emptied itself into the hall
straightway, Nina borne along with the other
children. Other currents flowed in from the
different parts of the house and offices, and up
from the basement, so that when they all
reached the library--a fine old room with a
Gothic ceiling, wainscoted, fairly lined with
books, and having a window of stained glass
at the end, setting forth richly the family arms
- they found themselves quite a congregation.
Nina was all eyes and ears. A brief, simple
service followed, conducted by the head of the
household, in which all joined. The servants
then disappeared. The children also departed,
after some pleasant talk with their parents.
"We go into the school-room-now," said
Catherine to Nina, as she drew on a pair of
leather cuffs. "We all wear these to protect
our pinafores we rub out our elbows so dread-
fully, you know, that we keep poor Har's nose
to the grindstone as it is; but Mabel is ex-
cused this morning that she may do the hon-
ors of our dear Aubrey, and show you about.
And this afternoon we are all going over to
Ferneylea, a beautiful walk; and we shall
stop at the Meadow Farm and drink new milk,
and the boys will bring their butterfly-nets. It
will be such fun! You have n't seen our col-
lections yet, have you ? Reggie collects birds
and birds' eggs, and has got a specimen of
nearly every one in Great Britain. He has
been offered a lot of money for it; but, of
course, he would n't sell it for the world. And
Herbert collects shells from all over, every-
where. Some of them are most lovely! And
dear little Teddy has begun to collect seaweed


-he 's only six. And Mabel, who is the
most industrious and painstaking of us all, has
got a herbarium that is thought uncommonly
well selected and full. She always took to bot-
any more than any of us, though we all like it,
because we study it in the open air with papa.
I do hope he will be able to come with us
this afternoon. It is so delightful having him
to spy out everything, and tell us about it. I
collect crystals much the most interesting
of them all, I think; and mama gave me Rus-
kin's Ethics of the Dust' last week for my
birthday. I hope we sha'n't quite tear you
to pieces among us. We shall all like showing
off our things to a cousin. It was so kind of
you, dear Nina, to remember us; for some of
us are n't your cousins at all- only Arthur
and Mabel and Herbert and I, really. But I
was so amused! Winifred insists that she will
be your cousin. Have you got us all straight
yet ? I 'm sure you have n't. This is the way
we come: first, Arthur, who is quite grown;
then Mabel, who is seventeen; then I come,
sixteen; and Herbert, fourteen; then the boy
twins, Reggie and Jack, eleven; Maude is ten;
Winifred, eight; Gwen,- Gwendolen, of course,
-seven; Teddy, six; Agnes, five; the girl
twins in the nursery, Dinah and Deborah, are
three; and darling baby, only four months old.
Half of us are dark and half fair. You have n't
seen the little ones yet, have you ? "
My goodness gracious alive What a fam-
ily!" ejaculated Nina.
Oh, do you think so ? We are not reckoned
a large family. Papa was one of eighteen, and
our Carter cousins in Buckinghamshire were
twenty-three, papa says; there were nineteen
of them living together in the house at one
time which is unusual," said Catherine. Oh,
I must show you baby. You never saw any-
thing so dear as he is; his eyes are so blue, and
his hair curls so sweetly, and he knows me






MISS NINA BARROW.


quite well. I long to do him a jacket, and
Friulein has kindly offered to help me; but I
have n't got the money to buy the materials
yet. My allowance is two shillings a week,
and I don't have to keep myself in ribbons and
gloves as the younger girls do; but somehow
it does so run away! The more one gets, the
more one wants. And we are all saving now
for mama's birthday, which comes at Michael-
mas. We 've got our eye on a desk -a per-
fect beauty-but it is such a sum!' Five-and-
twenty shillings! I don't know that we shall
be able to manage it."
"Well, your father must be poor, or else just
as mean as they're made," commented Nina.
" Why, that's nothing at all! Is that all you
get ? Why, I give a dollar a pound for candy
when I 'm at home, sometimes more; and I
get just as much of it as ever I want. And
I gave twenty-five dollars for my Paris doll,
and fifteen dollars for my Berlin doll; and ten
dollars does n't last me a week, sometimes. I buy
whatever I want, and don't ask anybody. And
it's a perfect shame of them to treat you so !
I would n't stand it one single minute. Grandy
would n't like to try it. And dressing you so,
too! I guess it 's all because she 's your step-
mother. Making you wear those plain dresses
and long aprons! I 'd like to see her get 'em
on me "
Are you speaking of mama ? asked Cath-
erine, aghast; and added with dignity, if heat,
" because if you are, mama is the dearest, kind-
est, best mother that anybody ever had, and
I can't allow you to say such things, if you are
my cousin. And I can't think what you mean
by talking so of my dress, my allowance. Papa
is most generous to us. I have all that is suit-
able or needful for my age and station -that
other girls of my rank have. I have two
school-room frocks, one for church wear, two
afternoon walking-dresses, one for tennis, one
for the evening and little parties. What more
could one want? I am not a dressmaker's
doll, and have no wish to dress like one. I am
a lady, and a lady is not judged by her dress-
though my dress is that of a lady. Papa is
not poor. He is the richest man in the county,
and has three places besides this. But that
is no reason for bringing us up to be wasteful


and extravagant. Next to being good women,
papa's great wish is that we should be useful
and helpful and practical ones. Besides, if we
were to spend everything on ourselves, how
should we be able to help others, pray ? Mabel
has only just got her first silk gown, and will
have no more than we until she comes out
regularly, and is presented to the Queen."
"Why, I 've got thirty-two dresses in all,"
said Nina; "and twenty-six pairs of silk stock-
ings, and three dozen embroidered handker-
chiefs, and two elegant lace ones, and five fans,
- two of them ostrich feathers just like Miss
Miller's,- and just stacks of jewelry and
things."
Oh! Nina, how vul -" Catherine stopped,
clapped her hand impulsively over her mouth,
and blushed furiously. An embarrassing silence
followed. She went on hesitatingly, I can't
think what you want with them-do with them
-a child like you! What more could you
have when you get to be a young lady, or a
married woman? Mabel will have mama's
laces when she marries, and they are immensely
old and valuable; and I am to have my Grand-
mother Gordon's jewels, which are valued at
twelve thousand pounds, and are quite magnifi-
cent; but we should never dream of wearing
such things now: most of them will be laid
aside until we marry, if we do marry. Do all
American children dress so richly ? "
"No, indeed! They have n't the money,
most of them; and some have mothers like
Louise Compton's, who won't let them wear
things. But I guess you 'd be stylish if you
could, Catherine. Belle Dixon she 's a girl at
our school I hate her we don't speak; and
yet she gives it up that I 'm the most stylish
girl in school. And so I am, and I always
mean to be. I don't care what anybody says
- the English or anybody else," said Nina, who
had not been deaf to Catherine's reserves of
disapproval, or blind to the fact that she was a
critic criticized.
"If by stylish' you mean in the very lat-
est fashion, you are mistaken. I shall never
greatly care for that. If I am not conspicuous
or untidy, it is all that matters, mama says.
There 's Frdulein; I must go. I hope you
won't be dull by yourself. Mabel will come


[JULY,






MISS NINA BARROW.


to you as soon as she has written- out her Ger-
man verb. But we 've very nearly quarreled,
have n't we ? And all about nothing. Good-
by," replied Catherine, smiling quite good-na-
turedly again.
Nina went to her room, and soon after it
began to occur to her that she was hungry; so
she gave the bell-rope a brisk jerk that landed
Jane in front of her as abruptly and quickly as
if it had been a fishing-line, and the maid a
fish already on the hook.
Jane," said Nina, "bring me some ice-
cream right away a plateful. I like vanilla
best. And some cake. And hurry up; I 'm
hungry."
If you please, miss, what was you pleased
to order ?" said Jane, curtseying of course,
and looking quite as puzzled as she really was.
Nina repeated her sentence.
Will I bring your bowl of bread and milk
now ? asked Jane, still at sea.
No," said Nina shortly.
"Beggin' pardon, miss, what was the name I
was to hask for?" said Jane, completely per-
plexed. Nina again repeated the order.
"Thank you, miss," said Jane, catching the
word this time, and not understanding any
more than at first, but not daring to ask any
more questions.
"What are you thanking me for? I 'm sure
I have n't given you anything," said Nina;
but Jane was gone on her quest. And a quest
it was.
First she spoke to the upper housemaid, who
consulted Nurse, who advised speaking to one
of the under footmen, who referred it to an-
other, who laid the matter before the butler,
who solemnly went into secret session with the
housekeeper, who submitted the question to
Mrs. Aubrey. "Collins thinks, ma'am, as the
young lady means ices," said the housekeeper;
" and there 's none in the house, nor likely to be
soon, there being no large dinners to prepare
for, unless ordered special. And what would
you wish done about it ? "
Oh, let Jane take her up some cake.
Stay, Nurse has a nice wholesome seed-cake for
the children; she will send up a couple of
slices if Jane asks her to," suggested the mis-
tress. This suggestion was carried out.


Where 's my ice-cream ? said Nina, when
Jane reappeared.
"If you please, miss, there ain't any, which
Mrs. Browser she do say as 'ow it 's hices you
mean, and them not made or thought of in the
house, never, at this hour," said Jane, respect-
fully.
"Then why don't you send somebody to
town and get some ? said Nina, to whom ice-
cream was as daily bread, not at all unusual,
but a staple article of food.
"To Stoke-Pottleton, miss ? asked Jane in
astonishment.
"Yes, of course. How far is it ?"
"Seven miles, miss; some says seven and a
'arf."
"All right. Send somebody."
"I '11 harsk about it, miss. Will you be
pleased to 'ave a slice of this cake ? "
"No, I won't. What 's it made of? It
looks horrid. I want a great big slice of fruit-
cake."
Miss ?"
"fruit-cake! Fruit-cake! Did you never
hear of fruit-cake before ?"
Not to my knowledge, miss. I '11 go see;
thank you."
"What are you thanking me for now 7 "
"Miss? "
"Oh, go along! cried Nina, exasperated.
"Thank you, miss," said Jane, and went
along. Fresh consultations followed. She
returned. If you please, miss, it 's not to be
thought of, my mistress says she's very sorry
- all that way just for hices, and not to be 'ad
then, as like as not. I was to say as your
dinner would be served punctual at one; and
there 's bread and butter, and cold porridge
and milk, if you 'd like it and are really 'ungry.
And if it 's black cake you mean, there 's not a
slice in the house and most unwholesome w'en
'ere."
"I don't want them! Bread! Milk! Por-
ridge! You must be crazy, Jane. I want
something fit to eat.. I never saw such a place
as England, never! What do you live on? "
Miss ? "
"What are you standing there for? Go
away!" said Nina angrily, and Jane obeyed;
and Nina ran off to see her grand, whom she


765


1897-.]






MISS NINA BARROW.


found still in bed, with a lovely bouquet beside
her, sent up by Donaldson the gardener, and a
beautiful basket of fruit, which Nina promptly
devoured for her. Her grand was all sym-
pathy with her woes, and said: I can't under-
stand it. Everything that I could desire is
prepared for me so kindly and cheerfully, and
everybody so attentive. I never saw anything
like it. But don't complain, darling. Pass it
over,--won't you ?-and I '11 get abig fruit-cake
from Stoke-Pottleton as soon as I can, and
keep it in here, and give you as much as you
want, without your needing to ask anybody."
When Mabel was free to do so, she came
for Nina and took her about to see the place.
First they went around in front to get the
stately effect of the facade; then to the rose-
garden, the Pleasance, where Nina soon lost
herself in a most ingeniously constructed maze,
out of which there was no getting without the
clue; then to the fish-pond; then to feed the
peacocks, to paddle about on the lake in a
pretty white-and-gold boat called the Daisy,"
to stroll awhile on the edge of the park, to see
the children's numerous pets, from Shetland
ponies to white mice; and at last to the hot-
house, where Mabel, being anxious to look
after some plants of her own, left Nina to her
own devices for about fifteen minutes.
What was her horror, on returning, to find
Nina with a circle of Donaldson's choicest
flowers stuck all around her hat, in the band,
and a huge bunch of his most sacred grapes in
her hand, half consumed! She stopped short
in sheer amazement.
Here, I '11 get you a bunch; they 're good.
This is my third," said Nina; and jumping up
as she spoke, she seized the vine, tearing it
away from some of its supports, and breaking
off a fourth fine cluster, she held it out to her
cousin with the utmost nonchalance, saying:
I '11 get you another presently."
"Oh! Nina! Stop! Stop! Don't! What
have you done? What will Donaldson say?
Papa would n't dare, scarcely! Four, did you
say? Oh, dear! How dreadful! There he
comes now." She half turned to fly, and looked
thoroughly disturbed, while Nina composedly
held her ground, saying:
Why, what are they for, but to eat? They


are not Donaldson's, are they? It's none of
his business, as far as I see."
"No, of course not; except that he is in
charge of everything here, and it is his business
to see that nothing is touched or cut, except
by himself. Dear me! I hope mama will not
think me in fault, bringing you here. It is n't
Donaldson I mind,- it 's papa! "
"Uncle Edward, here 's Mabel making a
great fuss because I took a few grapes and
flowers. And they are yours, are n't they?
And you don't care, do you? It 's all non-
sense, is n't it? Why, we give bushels upon
bushels of grapes and melons away to all our
neighbors in America; and the peaches are so
thick on the ground that even the pigs can't
eat them all. And I never heard of such a
thing; and if you don't like it, I '11 go home
again where there 's plenty for everybody, and
leave England, where nobody 's got anything
but somebody that can't have anything, like
you. I don't see what good it all does you, if
you are afraid to enjoy it; and it might as well
not be yours at all. And I 'm mad as fire with
Mabel for being so mean, when I thought she
was so nice. And I would n't treat her this
way if she was in my country. And I don't
care if I did!" blurted out Nina vehemently
and rather tearfully toward the close of her
speech.
Mr. Aubrey looked at the two girls, took in
the situation, having been in America and be-
ing, besides, a most genial and kindly man,
and soon made it right for both. Oh, never
mind, never mind! I see how it is. I will ex-
plain to Donaldson," he said. He then kissed
Nina, and told her that she should have fruit
when she wanted it, only, another time, it must
come through certain channels, for good rea-
sons; and when she pressed him to. explain,
and learned that she had consumed forty shil-
lings' worth of grapes, five of peaches, and had
rare blossoms to the value of three pounds at
that moment in her garden-hat, even Nina per-
ceived that in the matter of some fruits and
flowers England was not America. But she
was angry, and made no sort of apology. She
resentfully snatched the lovely orchids out of
her hat and threw them away, saying:
I don't want your old flowers! I can buy


766


[JULY,





MISS NINA BARROW.


fifty times .as many, and lots prettier, if I want
them! and ran with angry haste back into the
house. Mabel went after her good-naturedly,
and when peace was made sight-seeing was
resumed. They saw the picture-gallery, the
family portraits, tapestries, wood-carving, art
treasures; the old square entrance-hall with
the huge fireplace about which the men-at-
arms and servants used to gather; and the enor-
mous leather, silver-rimmed flagons above it,
out of which they used to drink ale; and above
that again, a demand for the surrender of Au-
brey from Cromwell; Prince Rupert's Room,"
" Queen Catherine's Room," and all the notable
features of the old place; and the small but
beautiful chapel which was being restored.
"Oh, papa, you were so good! I can't
think how she could do it. And she is as
vexed as though we were in fault! I was
never so mortified," said Mabel to her father,
that evening.
"Well, well, the child is spoiled, no doubt
about that; but she does not understand that
there is such a proverb as Autre pays autres
maeurs. Everything abounds so in America,
and they are such a generous, lavish people,
that she cannot imagine how different it is in
England. And, undisciplined -as she is, there
is something very winning about her. Come,
let 's have a look at the kennels," he replied,
and met Donaldson there, who bore the awful
news fairly well, and being told of American
abundance, said:
"Ech! What a wicked country to live in!
I 'd not live in seech a place for the warld;
it 's warse than the Garden of Eden, sir, for
gardeners."
The day was destined to be a failure for
Nina throughout. Dinner came, indeed; but
not the meal she had expected. Friulein took
the head of the table, and beamed kindly upon
everybody through her tinted glasses. Nurse
took the foot, supported *as usual by Jane,
while one of the footmen, in the handsome
livery of the family, condescended to light up
the other end of the apartment, evidently under
protest. The dinner consisted of a plain roast
of mutton and two vegetables, followed by a
simple pudding, the whole served with all pos-
sible formality and refinement. Sweet little


Agnes said grace, as at breakfast; and the chil-
dren waited patiently to be served, each in
turn, ate as heartily as before, found no fault,
were very meek about asking for "a second
help" of gravy, and were required to eat their
crusts by Nurse, who would allow no pud-
ding to Winifred because she would not eat the
more solid part of her meal properly." There
was not much talk, and no noise. Little Dinah
and Deborah, in two high chairs, used their
-forks and spoons with the grace of little ladies
of twenty.
Marian, who was present, was curious to see
how Nina would be affected by all this, and
noticed that she sat up very straight, and was
very stiff and ill at ease, but cleverly adapted
her own highly eccentric table-manners to those
of her neighbors, and ate a reasonable share of
what was provided. The dinner, if plain, was
well cooked; and Nina, really hungry now, and
harnessed like a fractious Eskimo dog in a
team of sober Trays, gave in for the time, and
did as her neighbors were doing without pro-
test or comment. "Maybe they '11 have some-
thing good for supper," she thought, meaning
something rich.
"Arthur is gbing with us," Catherine whis-
pered to her as they rose from the table. And
papa and mama, too. Is n't that jolly? And
Di and Deb too, dear little things! "
When Nina was ready she went down-stairs
to join the party, which consisted of the whole
family, except the baby. She saw Mabel and
Catherine exchange glances as she stood on
the step putting on her six-button mousque-
taire gloves, and wrinkling them down about
the wrists, and arranging her bangle bracelets
outside. She wore a silk dress, carried a para-
sol, and was generally got up as for a stroll on
a city avenue. Her boots were of the finest
French kid, and had high French, Louis Qua-
torze heels. Her hat was a Leghorn with a
long white plume in it. The cousins wore
plain serge frocks and water-proof jackets.
Their boots were stout, thick-soled, with low,
flat heels; their hats, of plain straw, trimmed
with simple ribbons; their gloves, stout gaunt-
lets made in the village. Nina thought they
had "no style at all," and "wondered how
they could dress so." She would have been sur-






MISS NINA BARROW.


prised to know that they were wondering ex-
actly the same thing about her.
"The Americans are all lazy, and can't walk
a bit. You won't get far, got up in that swag-
ger suit, Nina," said Teddy mockingly to her
as he passed by and glanced at her.
"The Americans can walk as well as the
English as well as anybody," said Nina,
flushing angrily; and they are not lazy at all!
And you '11 see if I don't keep up, that 's all! "
Dapple," a donkey with panniers, was now,
brought round. Di and Deb were brought
down by Nurse, and packed into them, and
given into the charge of the nursery-maid. Ar-
thur lounged out languidly when all the chil-
dren were assembled, eager, excited, noisy,
armed with baskets and butterfly-nets; Reggie
mounted on his bicycle, because, as he de-
clared, it was the only thing that made Dapple
go. Fraulein and Mr. and Mrs. Aubrey now
joined the party. The latter looked a little
involuntary surprise when she saw Nina; and
noticing it, Nina said testily:
"What is it, aunt ?"
"Nothing, dear; only your dress I really
fear it may be spoiled. It is very nice--very
nice indeed for some occasions, but not quite
the thing for country walks; however-" She
and Mr. Aubrey started, taking the lead.
Come walk with me, Nina," said Arthur
kindly; and she did so.
Dapple put his ears forward and walked off
in a low-spirited way until he heard Reggie's
bicycle behind him, when he trotted away in
the briskest possible fashion, amid the children's
laughter and cheers.
I should like to hear Dapple's opinion of
children," said Mrs. Aubrey.
The walk had begun. For some time Nina
found it very pleasant to be of the large, merry
party. Fraulein and Mrs. Aubrey and Arthur
and Mabel all chatted agreeably. The boys
caught not only butterflies, but a great variety
of insects of one kind or other. Di and Deb
were full of prattle.and pretty ways, and Nina
had quite fallen in love with them. Mr. Au-
brey was always finding some stone, or plant,
or flower, or other object which was of inter-
est, or which he contrived to make so, and
would take out a good hand-microscope, while


the children all gathered around him, and talk
to them with great spirit and intelligence of the
wonders and beauties it made visible, in the
simplest and most genial way in the world.
Arthur asked many questions about America
and Nina's life there, and told her of himself,
and helped her over the stiles, and showed him-
self as kindly and considerate as he was modest
and manly. Nina noticed many things with
all her own keenness: the children seemed to
know and love every foot of the country; to
have eyes for spying out birds' nests, snake-
holes, rabbit-warrens, flowers, grasses, mosses,
lichens, fungi, and what not. They seemed to
know so much about them, too, and were sur-
prised when Nina asked what kind of a tree an
elm was; for they knew every tree in the wood,
and most of the bushes and shrubs. Admirable
order was preserved, for all their gaiety.
For either parent it was evidently necessary
only to speak to be obeyed; and their wishes
were as binding as commands. Indeed, to be
allowed to "carry mama's shawl," "hold papa's
hand," walk with or near them, share in or hear
their talk, was regarded, she could see, as a
privilege; and much she marveled. And yet
there was no stiffness or gloom, only a whole-
some restraint, and the greatest activity, cheer-
fulness, mutual good-will, and exchange of little
helpful courtesies between all the party. All
was law and order in the Aubrey household;
but all was love, too, and the result was a kind
of liberty and happiness such as can be found
only where these are combined, and of which
Nina, alas! had had no experience. She had
thought her cousins quite rustic and primitive
- amazingly so, when their surroundings and
advantages were considered- compared with
herself;'but as she observed and listened, she
was forced, rather unwillingly, to accord them
her respect. It was impossible not to like
them, too. Mabel was so pretty and pleasant;
Arthur so polite; Catherine so kind and well-
bred; Winifred so jolly; the boys so full of fun,
and yet such little gentlemen withal; the twins
so irresistible. Even Friulein Hochzeiter was
most amiable; and although Mrs. Aubrey was
no more stylish than her daughters, and had
her hair brushed back plainly from her tem-
ples, and wore generally plain dark silks with-


[JULY,





MISS NINA BARROW.


out so much as a bit of lace, and linen collars,
she was "just perfectly lovely," Nina said to
herself.
And who could be more friendly and jolly
and kind and clever than Uncle Edward
-delightful Uncle Edward! So, as I have
said, she found it pleasant to be with them;
but after they*had walked and walked and
walked, she began to feel tired. It was no
joke to go "teetering" along on two tall pegs of
heels over country roads, across plowed fields
and meadows, down lanes, over uplands, up-
hill, down-hill, around hills, tramp, tramp,
tramping on, and on, and on, and on! But she
was ashamed to say so, and she kept on, getting
more lame every moment, and groaning in-
wardly in spirit. But she was pluckily deter-
mined that she would not be beaten. All the
others seemed as fresh as when they had
started; and at last she felt that she must know
how much more there would be to endure.
"Have n't we almost got there? she asked
of Arthur, as if merely desirous of knowing as
a matter of general information.
"Oh, no; we 've come only about two and
a half miles. Let me see; that copse ahead is
about half-way -it is a good five to Ferney-
lea," replied Arthur cheerfully. It never once oc-
curred to him that anybody could be tired after
"a little walk of two or three miles." And
Teddy was close by, and had heard. Poor
Nina could only plod on. It seemed to her
that they would simply never stop; and after
that she walked all the rest of the way in great
pain, grim, silent, her face set and flushed, her
mouth rigid she would not give in after what
had happened, not if I die for it!" she thought,
with her usual exaggeration. At last they
pushed through a hedge, and came to a halt
in the orchard of Meadow Farm; and Nina
sank down on the grass with unspeakable thank-
fulness, and heard with unspeakable wonder
Winifred bantering Catherine for a race. The
children, delighted, scattered all over the place.
Nina could hardly move. Mr. and Mrs. Au-
brey went in to have a word with their tenant.
"Come to the barn-yard! Come see the
cows! Come gather flowers! Come romp
in the haycocks! If we behave properly, we
are always allowed to gather the eggs, and go


in the dairy, and feed the poultry! they cried
to her; but Nina only asked to be left where
she had dropped. "Come see -the mastiff! "
they cried from afar. Oh, Nina, we can see
the bees making honey!" But she did not
stir. Wild with delight, they ran here and
there and everywhere. Arthur put Di and
Deb up in the cherry-trees. He carried Agnes
around pickaback and on all fours. He
rigged up in no time a boat for Teddy to
launch in the brook. He made flower-chains
for three of them. He played rounders with
the boys, and fed Dapple with carrots. He
joked and chaffed, and was no longer the dig-
nified young gentleman who had been talking
of Oxford.
Nina, somehow, felt as sore in mind as in
body, while she looked on; felt out in the cold,
deserted, although it was by her own wish that
she had been abandoned. It began raining as
she lay there, and before Arthur could come
dashing up from a far pasture, where he was
looking at a colt, and wrap her in his mackin-
tosh, she was cold and chilled, her dress and
parasol were "all spotted and spoiled," and her
fine feathers "all uncurled and perfectly ab-
surd," she told herself. No one else seemed to
mind the rain a whit more than the walk, and
it was quite half an hour before there was any
talk of going home.
Mrs. Hodge, the farmer's neat little wife,
then came out, and was followed by all the
party into the barn-yard, where "Buttercup,"
the handsome, straight-backed cow, was milked.
Come get a glass of new milk, Nina,"
called Catherine, in last appeal; and finding
she did not respond even to this, Herbert good-
naturedly ran across with a glass for her, saying:
Only see, how delicious! All foaming!
Just milked! Is n't it a treat ?"
No, it is n't; a glass of milk!" said Nina,
with fine scorn. "Are you going to stay here
all night ? I'm not going to, I can tell you;
and I 've had the horridest, stupidest time that
ever was!"
Herbert said he was sorry. She heard the
others rapturously praising the new milk as if
it had been nectar, and thanking Mrs. Hodge
warmly for being so kind. She felt as cross
as two sticks; but Arthur came up just then,


769






MISS NINA BARROW.


handsome and smiling, and saying, Nina, you
are looking tired, do you know? You are not
to walk home. Dapple could almost carry us
all, and I '11 just put you between the chicks
and make you comfortable." This he did, and
walked beside her all the way, talking cheerily.
But for all that, it was a desperately tired,
crumpled, vexed Nina that arrived at Aubrey
just before dark; and when Catherine cried out,
" Oh, Nurse, such a nice little walk and delight-
ful afternoon it 's been!"
Nina could scarcely believe her ears. If that
was their idea of a little walk, what would they
call a long one ? And a nice afternoon, truly!
Perhaps we can have another to-morrow,
children," said Mrs. Aubrey as she went in-
doors; and there was a general answering
chorus of Thanf you, mama! "
And, finally, there was only bread and milk
and porridge and "treacle" for tea, with an
egg for Nina, if she liked, which she did n't.
She thought it dreadful, and she so hungry, too!


She pouted visibly, and Nurse said politely,
"I 'm afraid we 've not got what you like,
miss."
No, you have n't. I want something that's
fit to eat, something nice,- lobster-salad with
mayonnaise sauce, or deviled crabs, or plum-
pudding, or something!" burst out Nina hotly.
" I 'm perfectly starved! "
The children, electrified by this stupendous
demand, stared as if Nina had suddenly de-
veloped horns and cloven hoofs.
"My word, miss Lobster-salad! Plum-
pudding For you at this time of night ? "
exclaimed Nurse. "You must be mad! Lob-
ster-salad! Plum-pudding for a child going
to bed shortly! It 's perfectly wicked to men-
tion it, and you '11 get nothing of the sort in
this house, I can tell you. And it 's amazed I
am that you should ask for the like. I 'd as
liefgive you poison! Plum-pudding! Lobster-
salad, indeed! Poison! Fiddlesticks! cried
horrified Nurse.


(To be continued.)


A FATUOUS FLOWER.

BY OLIVER HERFORD.

NCE on a time a Bumblebee
Addressed a Sunflower. Said he:
Dear Sunflower, tell me is it true
What everybody says of you?"

Replied the Sunflower: "Tell me, pray,
How should I know what people say ?
Why should I even care? No doubt
'T is some ill-natured tale without
A word of truth; but tell me, Bee,
What is it people say of me?"
'" Oh, no!" the Bee made haste to add;
"'T is really not so very bad.
I got it from the Ant. She said
She 'd heard the Sun had turned your head,
And that whene'er he walks the skies
You follow him with all your eyes
From morn till eve-"


770


[JULY,






A FATUOUS FLOWER.


/~


y)., i E"

; I Ji\\

*,--/ I'




^^^7 my'


" Oh, what a shame! "
acclaimed the Sunflower,
aflame,


"To say such things of me! They know
The very opposite is so.

"They know full well that it is he-
The Sun -who always follows me.


I turn away my head until
I fear my stalk will break; and still
He tags along from morn till night,
Starting as soon as it is light,
And never takes his eyes off me
Until it is too dark to see!
They really ought to be ashamed.
Soon they '11 be saying I was named
For him, when well .they know 't was he
Who took the name of Sun from me."

The Sunflower paused, with anger dumb.
The Bee said naught, but murmured,
"HI'm! "
'T was very evident that he
Was much impressed -this Bumblebee.
He spread his wings at once and flew
To tell some other bees he knew,
Who, being also much impressed,
Said, "1 'm! and flew to tell the rest.

And now if you should chance to see,
In field or grove, a Bumblebee,
And hear him murmur, "IH'm!" then you
Will know what he 's alluding to.


1897.]


4;e~8~


B











THE ROUND GLASS PITCHER.


By CONDIT CRANE.


HE September sun
S shone powerfully
on a tranquil and
beautiful scene as
Harry Maine rested
on the wooded knoll
that crowned Mr. Al-
derman De Lancey's
country-seat beyond the
village of Greenwich,
and thought over the
exciting scenes of the
past week. In his ears
still reverberated the
booming which had
come from the English
men-of-war now in view
at anchor in the Hud-
son River, and the rum-
ble which had swept
over the sweet fields
from the fleet lying in
Kip's Bay.' In his eyes
still lingered the glitter
of bayonets and pipe-
clay, and the vivid
hues of red which had
seemed to burn them as he had watched
horse, foot, cannon, and all march down the
Bouwerie road into the good town of New
York.
Oh, if he were only a man, like his father!
Then during the past summer he too might have -
been a member of Washington's family, and
have clanked in and out of the headquarters,
near by, important with despatches, instead of
having played around the grounds on suffer-
ance as a boy. Oh, if he were only a man, like
his father! He might now be with the pa-
triot army on Harlem Heights, instead of being
left behind with his grandfather, good old Ga-
briel Maine, the Quaker preacher, whom Whig


and Tory alike loved, and whom the Alderman
himself had promised to protect.
Well, well, it was a comfort to be under the
care of Ruth's father, fussy old loyalist though
he was. And Aunt Tabitha was kind, though
she never looked as if she intended to be, and
even Mary the maid was good-natured, though
she did give herself such airs. And could days.
be happier than those irhich Ruth and he were
spending together, free to roam through her fa-
ther's plantation and the deserted headquarters,
with all the tumults of the city as far removed
as the smoke on the horizon ?
But yet, why should n't a boy be able to
do something in this time of noble action ?
Though strength was lacking, were not his wits
nimble ? Had not his former tutor often called
him an Interrogation Point," and, even while
teasing, had he not praised the desire to gain
and use knowledge? "That's right, Harry,"
the wise man had said. "Remember in this
universe every effect has its cause, every ques-
tion its answer. The sun shines and the birds
sing, though eyes and ears be closed."
"Harry oh, Harry!" came a clear call from
the garden's maze.
Here am I, Ruth," responded the lad,
springing to his feet, with rest and reverie alike
forgotten; and a moment later a pretty little
colonial maid with eyes wide-spread from ex-
citement came panting up the slope.
Oh, Harry," cried Ruth De Lancey, I fear
there is trouble over at the cottage. I saw a
British sergeant stop there a few moments ago,.
and father says he 's looking for quarters."
But your father promised to protect grand-
father," began Harry indignantly.
And so he would, if he could. Father is so.
distressed; he says the conduct of the British
troops is enough to make all good citizens for-
get their allegiance. They act as if New York
were a conquered rather than a loyal town;






THE ROUND GLASS PITCHER.


and though he has protested, he is only
laughed at."
My father would say," retorted. Harry
proudly, that the time for protests hath gone
by. But come, Ruth, I must to the house.
Think of poor grandfather with a common sol-
dier among his books! Think of Aunt Tabi-
tha's spotless sheets and curtains!" And away
the children ran, down the shady incline, through
the garden, quaint yet elegant, and past the
mansion wherein the worthy Alderman found
rural peace. Across the lane was a vine-clad
cottage, nestling among oak and chestnut trees.
"Wait, Ruth," said Harry stoutly; "for
you might get
frightened."
But Ruth -
only tossed
her curls, and ,
tripped by his
side.
There on
theporch,and Ill
as clean and
shining as
a dairy-p,
pan,


"UPON THE LOUNGE A RED-FACED MAN, STALWART AND
SOLDIERLY, WAS CARELESSLY RECLINING."
stood Aunt Tabitha, her hair drawn all the
tauter for trouble.
Here, boy; you are never around when you
are wanted," she snapped. "There 's a great


lazy hunks of a Britisher quartered in the best
room, and you are out mooning through the
lanes. Fetch the man some fresh water from
the spring. He looks as if he needed it."
Harry took the round glass pitcher, and
obeyed without a word, aghast at the misfor-
tune which had come on that quiet household.
A British soldier in the "best" room, wherein
Ruth and he had never ventured, though once
and again through the half-open door they had
peered on its twilight-toned and lavender-
scented order! Would this dauntless man dare
to disturb the precision of its furniture, or the
slant of its closely drawn blinds ?
Up the stairs the chil-
dren stole, and rapped
on the front room door.
"Come in," answered a
voice, rough but not
churlish; and as they en-
tered, with Ruth cling-
ing timidly to Harry's
sleeve, this is what they
S saw :
The front and side
JJ windows were wide
open, letting in through
the former a rush of
Sair, and through the
latter a glare of sun-
light. Not far from an
overturned chair-
oh, poor, distraught
Aunt Tabitha -was
lying a heavy knap-
sack. Upon the
lounge a. red-faced
man, stalwart and
\ soldierly, was care-
\ \ lessly reclining, with
his belts and leggings
loosened. On the
bed opposite was his high,
pointed hat, with regimental sym-
bol and number; and across the foot,
his ponderous musket, polished and oiled
as if fresh from the armory.
With a true boy's sharpness of interest, Harry
noticed that the flint had been removed; but
he saw at the same time that there was powder





THE ROUND GLASS PITCHER.


about the priming-pan. The piece was evi-
dently loaded.
"I 've brought some fresh water for you,
sir," faltered the lad.
The soldier looked
up drowsily, yet good-
naturedly. "All right,
younker," he growled.
"Set it down some-
where-oh, anywhere.
I 'm that fagged I
must snooze, now that
air and sunlight have
got the stuffiness out
of these 'ere desirable
quarters. Sorunalong,
youngsters, and don't
bother, and keep quiet,
so I can get a nap."
Harry placed the
pitcher on the project-
ing end of the mantel
nearest to the side
window, drew Ruth
close to his side, and
hurried from the rude
presence. As the chil-
dren passed through
the corridor, they '
caught a glimpse of
the good old Quaker sitting among his books
in the rear room, his mild face overclouded, and
his eyes dim, but not from reading.
Is n't war a dreadful thing ? sighed Ruth,
as they dejectedly sought a favorite nook in
the orchard.
Harry was too miserable to reply. He sat
on the bench, with his head on his arm, vainly
thinking how he might help his grandfather
and aunt in their stress. But what could he -
what indeed could the Continental army do
against the mighty power of the British ? They
were here and there and everywhere. Out in
the harbor lay their great ships; in the churches
and college buildings their garrisons were quar-
tered; and now they were occupying private
houses, and driving women and children from
their homes; and even here, out in the country,
the song of the birds was stilled by their mar-
tial notes; for hark! was not that the fife and


the drum playing the good old tune of "Over
the Hills and Far Away ?
Harry and Ruth sprang upon the bench and


. .


"SURROUNDED BY THE THREATENING SOLDIERS, THE GOOD
QUAKER REMAINED CALM IN THE PRESENCE OF DANGER."

looked. There, marching blithely along the
lane was a company of redcoats, with the colors
of their accoutrements smartly contrasting.
"They 're bound to Washington's former
headquarters," said Ruth. 'T is there your
sergeant belongs."
"You may have some of them quartered in
your house," reflected Harry gloomily.
Shrilly piped the fife and bravely rattled the
drum as the troops paced on. The dust of
their raising had just settled in front of the cot-


774


[JULY,





THE ROUND GLASS PITCHER.


775


tage, the children were about to climb down,
when there came a report sudden, sharp, and.
single. The music ceased; the soldiers, to quick
commands, faced about, for a moment stood
expectant, and then, as loud cries reechoed,
broke into a run for the Quaker's dwelling.
The children looked at each other with faces
pale from an unknown dread, and then, with-
out a word, hurried hand in hand to the scene
of confusion.
But a moment had been this delay, and yet
much had occurred. On the porch stood poor
Aunt Tabitha wringing her hands and murmur-
ing in distress. Near by, supported by two com-
rades, was the sergeant, with a deep, dingy drip
of red from his left shoulder, while, surrounded
by the threatening soldiers, the good old Quaker
remained calm in the presence of danger.
"Fall in "came the command. The ranks
of a hollow square were quickly formed, with
the prisoner and the wounded man in the cen-
ter; bayonets were fixed and threatened from
every side; and off marched the company.
"Oh, auntie," sobbed Harry, "what has
happened? What has grandfather done ? "
"Done ? the innocent lamb!" moaned the
spinster; "naught save to bind the wounds of
the afflicted. He heard that report, and rushed
into the room only to be accused of having shot
his guest. Done? Don't ask me. When has
he done aught but strive to love his enemy and
render good for evil ? and she hurried away.
From Mary, the maid, the children learned
that the sergeant's story to his comrades was
that he had fallen asleep, and had been awak-
ened by the report and pain to find himself
wounded in the shoulder, and his host standing
over him with the smoking gun in his hands.
" Of course," continued the girl, poor, dear
master had picked up the horrid thing on en-
tering the room, in his amazement at not catch-
ing sight or sound of the assassin."
"But there was no flint," stammered the be-
wildered Harry.
Nonsense! retorted Mary; and Non-
sense "repeated Mr. Alderman De Lancey that
night when the distressful story was told to
him. Guns don't fire themselves," he con-
cluded sagely; the fellow was drunk, in all
probability, and shot himself; but he '11 stick to


his accusation of good brother Maine, and for
a civilian to assault a soldier means sharp, quick
punishment. I '11 see what I can do; but I
fear 't is little."
There was little sleep in either house that
night, and the news which the Alderman gained
in the morning brought slight relief. The old
Quaker was to be tried by military commission
the following day. His character, so the com-
manding officer had said, but aggravated his
offense. There was need of an example, that
the disaffected might know how terrible was
the weight of Britain's right arm.
Again the children met in the orchard, Harry
deep in thought, Ruth ready with sympathy.
Oh, why can't I do something? the boy
kept repeating. "There must be some expla-
nation for what happened. The soldier was
wounded, the gun was fired, and it did n't fire
itself; and grandfather never did such a thing,
though it was smoking in his hands. There
can be no effect without a cause, my tutor used
to say; oh, why can't I find out that cause ? "
What else used he to say ? asked Ruth,
chiefly to keep Harry talking.
Why, he said that there should be no such
thing as a mystery; for whatever happened
would be sure to happen again under the same
circumstances."
"And all that means, dear Harry ?"
"Why," the boy answered slowly, "if the
day was the same, and the room was the same,
and the gun and grandpa there, and the ser-
geant asleep -why, then why, then, the shot
would be fired."
"But the day is the same," replied Ruth
eagerly; "just as bright and hot as yesterday.
And we can fix the room precisely as it was.
Why should n't we go up there and see if then
something would n't happen? And so the
two children, strong in simple faith and a desire
to be helpful, crept up unnoticed into the room.
Aunt Tabitha had already been there, too
good a housekeeper to let grief interfere with
duty, and the room had been darkened. Harry
threw open the sashes and blinds, and in
streamed the sunlight and in rushed the breeze.
Now, Ruth," he said, you sit there on the
bed where the gun rested, while I lie down in
the soldier's place; for if any one is going to






THE ROUND GLASS PITCHER.


be hurt, I must be that one. Of course the
musket is n't here, but that can't be helped.
But is everything else the same ? "
"Yes," answered Ruth, after a careful look-
"that is, no. Don't you remember you brought
the round glass pitcher full of spring water ? "
Why, so I did. Aunt Tabitha must have
taken it down-stairs. I '11 be back in a jiffy ";
and away rushed Harry, to return with the
identical pitcher, which he set on the projecting
edge of the mantel by the side window.
"Now, Ruth," he urged, "we '11 keep quiet
for a while, and see if anything will happen."
But I can't keep quiet," replied the little
girl, half crying; "it burns, it smarts so. See !"
And lo, on her hand, which rested where the
stock of the gun had lain, there shone a spark!
I do see! cried Harry in wild excitement,
dancing about the room. It 's the sunlight
coming through the pitcher. Why, it makes a
regular fire-glass! Come, Ruth; let 's find the
Alderman, and we '11 prove to him-yes, and
to the old Commission too-that if a gun can't
fire itself, it can go off with the aid of the sun."
And indeed the mystery was soon ex-
plained satisfactorily to all concerned. At
first the commanding officer sneered; but
then Mr. Alderman De Lancey was a
man of substance, the representative of


a class that had suffered much for the King.
The old Quaker, too, was generally beloved,
and there was something absurd in pressing a
charge of bloodshed against a man of peace.
So on the first sunshiny day Aunt Tabitha's
prejudices had to endure another armed inva-
sion of her best room, rebelliously too, though
her heart prayed for the success of the experiment.
Grave officers patiently waited as the win-
dows were arranged, the round glass pitcher
set, and the gun, loaded only with powder, laid
on the bed. Again that spark of fire appeared;
it traveled deliberately along the snowy spread;
it touched the stock; it progressed toward the
lock; it rested for an instant on the priming-
pan. There was a flash, a report, a dense smoke,
and the British were taught that in a war for
independence even Nature herself might take
sides against them.
They were not sulky in their defeat, however,
but made all possible amends of kindly treat-
ment to the good old Quaker, the gruff sergeant
especially seeming unable to do too much for
him. As for the children, they were ever as wel-
come at headquarters as they
had been when the stately Wash-
ington was living there, and his
young officers clanked in and
out, important with despatches.


776


























BROWNIES OF THE INSECT WORLD.

BY A. HYATT VERRILL.


HAT are they? This
is doubtless the
question which will
arise in the minds
of the readers of
ST. NICHOLAS when
they see the picture
at the top of this
page. Are any of
Mr. Cox's Brownies quainter or more droll than
these queer, spectacled creatures with their out-
landish head-gear ? Nor are these little elfin-
like beings inventions of the imagination. From
the time when the first green leaves burst forth
in spring until the keen, frosty air of autumn
ends their strange existence, they live and thrive
under our very eyes.
The little people created in Palmer Cox's
brain never wore a greater variety of dress than
do the Leaf-Hoppers; for these droll little faces
are nothing more nor less than the heads of the
common insects called Leaf-Hoppers as they
appear when viewed through a magnifying-glass.
There are more than one hundred species of
these little insects found in the eastern United
States alone,no two of which are alike. Some are
brown, others green, blue, white, or mottled in
various colors and patterns; while one patriotic
little fellow goes so far as to wear our national
VOL. XXIV.-98. 7


colors in stripes of red, white, and blue upon
his roof-shaped back.
The Leaf-Hoppers are as erratic in their
movements as the Brownies themselves, and
could easily give, hints to those favorites of
the children in regard to traveling through
space; for although these insect-Brownies pos--
sess wings and moderate powers of flight, yet
their usual method of traveling is by sudden,
elastic leaps, often covering as much as six feet,
or over five hundred times their own length, in
a single bound. If man could move in this
manner, there would be little need of express
trains, for in two jumps a person could travel
a mile!
A favorite resort for these insects is among
the stems and leaves of the grape-vine and Vir-
ginia creeper. If you look in these places on
any warm summer's day, you will find them
with their bodies lying close to the surface on
which they may be resting, while their pointed
caps look like small protuberances of the bark.
These queer-shaped humps are not alone for
ornament, but, like everything else in nature,
have their use. The little fellow with the tall,
peaked cap on the extreme left of the picture
lives on rose-bushes, and his cap, of a dull olive
color, appears so much like one of the thorns
that you will have to look sharp to find him.






778


BROWNIES OF THE INSECT WORLD.


After you find your Leaf-Hopper, approach with
great care; for no matter how cautiously you
move, he will see you with those sharp goggle-
eyes, and if you are approaching him from the
side orrear, will wheel quickly about until he faces
you, and slightly raising the forward portion of
his body, will watch your every move. Now make
a quick motion or extend your hand as though
to touch him. Quick as a flash, he will take a
short backward step and be up and away with
a lightning-like spring, as though hurled from a
miniature catapult, and the chances are you will
never see him again. The Leaf-Hoppers, like
their cousins the common plant-lice, or aphides,
are sap-eaters (or more properly sap-suckers),
and, like them, many species secrete a sweetish
substance called "honey-dew." This secretion
is considered a great delicacy by the ants, and
if you look carefully you may often see a pro-


THE LEAF-HOPPERS MASQUERADE AS THORNS ON A ROSE-BUSH.

cession of small ants passing up and down a
plant on which the little hoppers are feeding.
At first sight the ants seem to be eating the


THE LEAF-HOPPERS IN THEIR SPRING BONNETS.

little creatures, but if you examine them with a
lens it will be seen that they are merely feeding
on the honey-dew. In fact, the Leaf-Hoppers
and aphides are utilized as cows by the ants.
They take excellent care of their cattle, too,
watching over and guarding them constantly.
In the autumn the ants take the eggs of the
aphides or Leaf-Hoppers into their own nests,
where they keep them through the winter.
In the spring, when the eggs hatch, they
carry the young and nearly helpless brood to
some plant where they can feed; and if the plant
dries up or dies, they carry the little sap-suck-
ers to better feeding-grounds. In some cases
the ants even build tiny sheds over their herds
to protect them from the weather. When they
desire the honey-dew, the ants gently stroke
the backs of the insects with their antennae,
when the little creatures immediately expel a
drop of the coveted fluid.
The Leaf-Hoppers belong to the order of


[JuLY,






BROWNIES OF THE INSECT WORLD.


WELCOMED TO THE BROWNIE BAND.
(From a sketch drawn by permission of Mr. Palmer Cox.)


insects known as Hemiptera, and, like the other
members of their order, do not pass through a
grub or caterpillar state as do the butterflies
and many other insects. The young, when first
hatched, look much like their parents, with the
exception of the wings, which do not appear
until the first change of skin. With each suc-


cessive molt the wings increase in size until
fully formed. Although the existence of the
most of the Leaf-Hoppers ends with the fall-
ing leaves, yet quite a number live over winter,
Passing the long, cold months in a sort of sleep
beneath dead leaves, straw, or any other rubbish
that will keep out the cold.


/A A


K::


FAIRY TIMEKEEPERS TO THE FLOWERS: "FOUR 0' CLOCK!


/ 5~ 6


TIME TO SHUT UP SHOP!"


779








THE GOOD BEHAVIOR OF NANCY LEE.

BY CHRISTOPHER VALENTINE.


-i--


CHRISTINE was a little girl whose father had
been a sea-captain. He once commanded a
ship that made voyages from New York to Nor-
way, where the Captain was born. Now he
did not go to sea any more, but owned a little
sail-boat in which he often sailed from his home
on Long Island to New York.
Christine had a doll, and when she was nam-
ing it her father said Nancy Lee was a good


name for a doll belonging to a sailor's daugh-
ter; so she called the doll by that name.
One morning Nancy was asleep under a foot-
stool when Christine danced in, singing:

The sailor's wife the sailor's star shall be-
Yo, ho! oh, ho!

As soon as Christine saw Nancy she stooped
and caught her up from the floor, saying:






THE GOOD BEHAVIOR OF NANCY LEE.


Ah, there you are, you sleepy child Come,
we are going on a voyage with the Captain.
You must learn to go to sea, Nancy, for you
know you may marry a sailor some day!"
Just then Christine heard her father calling,
and without waiting to find Nancy's hat or sack
she ran down-stairs.
"Come, Chris," called the Captain; "the
bell has rung 'all aboard,' the wind is right,
and we must n't keep the ship waiting "
Only stopping to catch up her broad-
brimmed hat, Christine ran down to the little
landing. Her father lifted her into the stern
of the sail-boat, hoisted the big sail, and they
swung in a wide curve out into the Sound, the
little waves rippling from under the boat with
a pattering and slapping.
"Don't talk to the man at the wheel," was
one of the early lessons the Captain had taught
his daughter, and so she gave her attention to
making Nancy comfortable, and teaching her
about sailing a boat.
"The big white cloth, Nancy, is the sail;
but it is n't a sheet. For aboard ship sheets
are ropes, my dear. The sail takes hold of the
wind, and pulls the boat along; and the Cap-
tain makes it go where he likes, Nancy, by
pushing the tiller. The tiller moves a flat
piece in the water, and makes the boat pull
harder on one side, so it goes slower on that
side. But, Nancy, you are too young to un-
derstand much, and this is your first voyage."
Nancy did not interrupt; she seemed to lis-
ten quietly, and she looked straight before her,
like a very good girl in school.
"We are going to see New York, my child,
and that is a big, big city. You never saw a
big city before, did you ? "
Now, Nancy was a French doll, and so she
had crossed the ocean, and had seen a big city,
for she had come from Paris; but she was a
very young doll when in Europe, she did n't
really remember her ocean trip, and she had
not learned to talk English- except to say
"Papa" and "Mama," and even that was
broken -and she made no reply.
But Christine did not wait for one. Just
then the Captain told her she might steer, and
Christine was too proud of holding the tiller to
think of Nancy Lee. Nancy, indeed, thought


so little of being left alone that when the boat
leaned over she sank gently down on the seat.
As she lay down, her eyes closed at once,-
it was always so with Nancy,- and she slept
until Christine raised her suddenly, and said:
"Land ho! Nancy Lee, wake up! We
are going ashore now, for this is New York."
But Christine's father said there should be
somebody to watch the boat.
Leave Nancy on guard while we go shop-
ping."
Christine covered Nancy with a bit of sail-
cloth, and propped her up where she was well
sheltered. And there sat Nancy on the watch
all the time the Captain and crew were ashore;
and she never even winked once.
When they returned, Christine told Nancy
of the shops they had visited; of the luncheon
at a restaurant, where a very black waiter
brought Chris some very white ice-cream; and
of the pretty things in the shop-windows. Not
at all envious though she had been left in the
boat without a thing to eat, Nancy only smiled
sweetly.
At first the breeze was very light as they set
sail for home; the sun shone warmly, and they
sailed slowly. It was a drowsy time, and Chris
fell asleep, with her curly head on the Captain's
arm; but Nancy Lee kept wide awake.
While Chris slept, the breeze freshened; and at
length the boat leaned far over, and the Captain
had to move about so that Chris was wakened.
But they were nearly home, and before Chris
was fully awake again they were at the dock.
As Christine lifted Nancy to carry her up the
path to the house, she said: "Nancy Lee, I am
afraid you will never be a sailor's wife. My
child, you were asleep nearly all the voyage."
And was n't it good of Nancy not to remind
Christine how long she had been kept on watch
while Christine and the Captain were ashore,
and how Christine herself had slept soundly
-during the only exciting part of the sail?
Nancy Lee still smiled sweetly, and never
lost her temper nor said an unpleasant word.
And yet no sooner had Christine put her in bed
than Nancy's eyes shut tight, and never opened
till Christine lifted her the next morning.
How pleasant it would be if all passengers
were as patient and quiet as Nancy Lee!
























HOW THE TURKS CAME BY THEIR CRESCENT.
WHEN Philip of Macedon approached by night with
his troops to scale the walls of Byzantium, the moon,
then new or in crescent, shone out and discovered his
design to the besieged, who repulsed him. The cres-
cent was after that adopted as the favorite badge of the
city. When the Turks took Byzantium they found the
crescent in every public place, and believing it to pos-
sess some magical power, adopted it themselves.

A CHAPEL BELL.
THE largest bell in the world is the one called King
of Bells," in Moscow, Russia. It was cast in 1733, but
fell during a fire, and remained buried in the earth till
1836. It is more than three times as high as a man,
being over nineteen feet high, and weighs as much as
two hundred and twenty common cart-loads of coal.
There is a large piece broken out of one side, so that it
cannot be rung as a bell; but it is set upon a stone
foundation, and used as a chapel, of which the broken
place is the door.

TEN THOUSAND TELEGRAMS AT ONCE.'
IN 1871, at a celebration held in New York in honor
of Professor Morse, the original instrument invented by
him was exhibited, connected at that moment by wire
with every one of the ten thousand instruments then in
use in the country. At a signal a message from the in-
ventor was sent vibrating throughout the United States,
and was read at the same time in every city from New
York to New Orleans and San Francisco.

THE TRUE "REBECCA."
SIR WALTER SCOTT'S model for the Rebecca of "Ivan-
hoe was a young Jewish lady in Philadelphia, named
Rebecca Gratz. She was beautiful, and noted for her
devotion to the Jewish faith. One of the most intimate
friends of her family was Washington Irving. Irving vis-
ited Scott, and spoke of Miss Gratz, her beauty and her
devotion. Scott was deeply impressed, and planned the
story of Ivanhoe," naming his heroine Rebecca.

AUSTERLITZ PLANNED BY JOHN MILTON.
NAPOLEON declared to Sir Colin Campbell, who had
charge of the exile on the isle of Elba, that he was a
great admirer of Milton's Paradise Lost," and that he
had read it to some purpose. He said further that he
had borrowed the idea or plan of the battle of Austerlitz


from the sixth book of that poem, where Satan brings his
artillery to bear upon Michael and his angelic host with
such dire effect:
"Training his devilish enginery impaled
On every side with shadowing squadrons deep to
hide the fraud."

PRETTY NAMES FOR BOOKS.
THE following are some of the curious titles of old
English books:
I. A Most Delectable Sweet Perfumed Nosegay for
God's Saints to Smell at."
2. Biscuit Baked in the Oven of Charity, carefully
conserved for the Chickens of the Church, the Sparrows
of the Spirit, and the sweet Swallows of Salvation."
3. A Sigh of Sorrow for the Sinners of Zion breathed
out of a Hole in the Wall of an Earthly Vessel known
among men by the name of Samuel Fish (a Quaker
who had been imprisoned).
4. Eggs of Charity Layed for the Chickens of the
Covenant and Boiled with the Water of Divine Love.
Take ye out and eat."
5. "Seven Sobs of a Sorrowful Soul for Sin."
6. "The Spiritual Mustard-Pot to make the Soul
Sneeze with Devotion."
Most of these were published in the time of Cromwell.

ORIGIN OF BOZ."
CHARLES DICKENS signed the name Boz" to his
earliest articles. It was a nickname which he had given
to his younger brother, whom for fun he called Moses,
pronouncing it through his nose, like Boses," and then
shortening it to "Boz."

ICELAND'S MILLENNIAL.
IN 1874 Iceland celebrated the one-thousandth anni-
versary of its colonization. At the same time it became
independent of Denmark, though still subject to the king
as head of the government. Its new government is thor-
oughly republican in spirit, all citizens having equal
rights and perfect religious liberty. There are in Ice-
land no officers answering to our policemen, and no
prisons.
A CRIPPLED CONQUEROR.
TAMERLANE was called the "Prince of Destruction."
His real name was Timour, but, being lame, he was called
" Timour lane," which means "lame Timour," and it be-






FROM OUR SCRAP-BOOK.


came corrupted into the name by which we know him.
He was one of the greatest soldiers that ever lived, and it
is said no other conqueror won by the sword so large a
part of the world.
WHY GONDOLAS ARE BLACK.
IN former times the nobles of Venice spent such im-
mense sums in decorating their gondolas that the gov-
ernment passed a law that all should be alike, and all
have since been painted black. Some gondolas have
been on the lakes of Central Park, and many were used
in Chicago at the time of the World's Fair.
WHY BEACON STREET ?
BEACON STREET, in Boston, derives its name from a
beacon which stood on the summit of the hill so that,
in case of an invasion, the country could be roused by
setting fire to a barrel of tar kept there. The beacon
was blown down by the violence of the wind in 1789.
Beacon Hill was the highest of the three hills which gave
Boston its original name, Trimountain.
FOUNDING OF HARVARD UNIVERSITY.
The General Court of Massachusetts voted in 1636
to give c4oo to found a college at Newtown, afterward
called Cambridge. It is said that "this was the first leg-
islative assembly in which the people, through their rep-
resentatives, gave their own money to found a place of
education."
A WILLOW FROM NAPOLEON'S GRAVE.
OVER the grave of Cotton Mather in Copp's burying-
ground (near Bunker Hill, Boston) is a weeping-willow
tree which was grown from a cutting of the willow-tree
that shaded the grave of Napoleon at St. Helena.
MICHELANGELO AS ARCHITECT.
THE great artist Michelangelo was as famous an
architect or designer as he was a painter. He designed
the church of St. Peter at Rome, which is built in the
form of a Latin cross. He also designed another church
in Rome, and, besides these, planned a number of famous
structures.
THE PEACOCK AT HOME.
THE real home of the peacock or peafowl is in India.
There they were and are hunted, and their flesh is used
for food. As these birds live in the same region as the
tiger, peacock-hunting is a very dangerous sport. The
long train of the peacock is not its tail, as many suppose,
but is composed of feathers which grow out just above
the tail, and are called the tail-coverts. Peacocks have
been known for many hundred years. They are men-
tioned in the Bible: Job mentions them, and they are
mentioned too in I Kings, o1. Hundreds of years ago
in Rome many thousand peacocks were killed for the
great feasts which the emperors made. The brains of the
peacock were considered a great treat, and many had to
be killed for a single feast.

"THE MISSISSIPPI OF STREETS."
BROADWAY is five miles long, with nearly half its line
as straight as an arrow flies, so that the eye may look


upward from the quaint little Bowling Green near the
Battery to the graceful spire of Grace Church- almost
up to Union Square. From this point it turns from its
straight course, and nearly two miles beyond reaches
Central Park, from which, under the name of the Boule-
vard, it is prolonged'nine miles farther. It was with
reason that Lady Mary Wortley Montagu called this the
"lengthy Mississippi of streets."

ST. CLEMENTE, ROME.
THERE is a church in Rome, called St. Clemente, which
is a very curious building. Here we find four buildings,
one on top of the other. The uppermost one is the
present church, built in IIo8. There is another below
this which was the church of the early Christians, and
first mentioned in 392. Below this one are the remains
of an old Roman building of the time of the emperors;
and still below this are great walls belonging to a build-
ing of the time of the Roman republic.

A KNOCK ON THE DOOR, IN ANCIENT TIMES.
WINCKELMANN, quoting the comedies of Plautus and
Terence, says that Grecian doors opened outward, so
that a person leaving the house knocked first within, lest
he should open the door in the face of a passer-by.
Hinges were not then in use, and at Rome, Pompeii,
and Herculaneum doors have at top and bottom pivots
which turn in sockets.

VARIOUS ITEMS.
THE Revolutionary. War, from its first outbreak at
Lexington, April 19, 1775, to the final disbanding of the
army, April 19, 1783, lastedjust eight years to a day.

THE Second Epistle of St. John is a letter to a lady.

LEONARDO DA VINCI, the great painter, who painted
the famous picture of the Last Supper, is said to have
invented the wheelbarrow.

SAMUEL ADAMS first originated the idea of declaring
the American colonies independent of Great Britain.

THE tusks of the elephant never stop growing till
the animal dies.

THE goldfish is a native of China, and was seen in
England first in 1691.

ANCIENT soldiers were taught to fight equally well
with either hand.

IN France St. Nicholas's day is the f&te-day for boys,
and St. Catherine's day is the f&te-day for girls.

CARTHAGE was destroyed 146 B. C. It was twenty-
four miles in circumference, and is said to have been
burning seventeen days.

IN winding up the clock of Trinity Church, New York,
it is said that the crank or handle has to be turned round
eight hundred and fifty times.





THE OLD TIN SHEEP,


"CREAK! said the old tin sheep on wheels;
"I 'm growing old, and down my back
I 'm very sure there 's a dreadful crack.
There 's nobody knows," said the old tin sheep, "till he 's old how an old toy feels.
"I used to trundle about the floor;
But that was when I was young and new;
It 's something that now I could not do.
No; I shall quietly rest myself on this shelf behind the door.


"Creak!" said the sheep; "what's gone amiss?
Some one is taking me out, I know.
They 're pulling my string, and away I go.
Stop! oh, stop!" cried the old tin sheep; "I never
But Tommy pulled the sheep around;
About the nursery it went so fast
The floor beneath seemed flying past,
While creakety-creakety-creak! the wheels went round


can go like this!"




with a doleful sound.


Then Tommy left it there on its side;
The wheels moved slowly and stopped with a creak,
And the wax doll heard it faintly speak.
"There 's nobody knows what he can do," said the sheep, "till he has tried."
Katharine Pyle.















By KATHARINE PYLE.

You might not think it, but no toys
Are pleasanter at play
Than the buttons in the button-box
Aunt Jane keeps put away.

The little-brother buttons
Are never rude or rough;
And though the box is very full,
There 's always room enough.

There 's a fat, round mother button,
And a father button, too;
And a set of sister buttons -
White china specked with blue.


There 's a bright brass-button uncle,
Who truly went to war;
Though he 's lost his shank, he twinkles
As brightly as before.


But, big or little buttons,
There 's one they love the best -
A baby button, tinier
Than any of the rest.


The little baby button
o Is very sweet and bright.
You 'd almost think it was a pearl,
So smooth it is, and white.

One day the button-box upset,
^ And all fell on the ground;
Then how the little button skipped
And spun and ran around!

And when they all were gathered up,
And safely home once more,
They' cried," Oh, did n't we have fun
Out on the nursery floor!"


VOL. XXIV.-99.


/





















TWENTY-FIVE 0 r
IMPORTANT BATTLES A .
OF THE *
REVOLUTION





1775 BRAN N E
1783





y Lexington April 19, 1775
0 Concord April 19, 1775
Ticonderoga May 10, 1775
o_._._ ow Crown Point. May 10, 1775
O A .t Bunker Hill June 17, 1775
-Long Island Aug. 27, 1776
GU '-'RD* Harlem Heights Sept. 16, 1776
0 FortWashington Nov. 16, 1776
.T" < Trenton . Dec. 26, 1776
T 1 t ,Princeton .. Jan. 3, 1777
oOrsa Oriskaney .Aug. 6, 1777
CWPEN Bennington Aug. 16, 1777
Brandywine Sept. 11, 1777
4Germantown Oct. 4, 1777
O, ,t Saratoga . Oct. 17, 1777
G P, Monmouth June 28, 1778
SStony Point July 16, 1779
EUTAW Savannah . Oct. 9, 1779
SPRINGS Charleston May 12, 1780
SCHARLEsior Camden . Aug. 16, 1780
King's Mountain Oct. 7, 1780
SCowpens .. Jan. 17, 1781
Guilford March 15, 1781
Eutaw Springs Sept. 8, 1781
Yorktown . Oct. 19, 1781
Peace declared,
September 3, 1783.\V-













REPORT


UPON THE PRIZE PUZZLE, "A CENTURY OF
PRESIDENTS."


THE Century of Presidents," printed during March, the inauguration month, brought forth almost a thousand
answers.
This puzzle was more difficult to solve than similar puzzles previously printed; and, therefore, a much
longer time than usual was allowed for its solution. But it was none too long for some of our correspondents, who
asserted that they barely completed their solutions in time; and the great number received on the last two days of
the competition was additional evidence of this.
Lists prettily decorated with various patriotic devices were received from Caroline Sewall, Harold W. Byn-
ner, Floretta G. Elmore, Bertha M. Wheeler, Ellen B. Townsend, Selma Schricker, Amy J. Einstein, Claude
Hoen, and Dorothea Faraday.
Several careful correspondents have called attention to the misstatement in No. 34. Caleb Cushing was
called Secretary "because he had been a member of a President's cabinet: strictly speaking, however, an At-
torney-General is not a "Secretary." He was sent, in 1843, as Commissioner" to negotiate a treaty between
the United States and China.
The correct list of names is as follows:
I. James Buchanan. 14. Jefferson Davis. 27. Chester Alan Arthur.
2. William Learned Marcy. 15. Thomas Jefferson. 28. Franklin Pierce.
3. John Adams. 16. William Henry Seward. 29. Daniel Webster.
4. Lewis Cass. 17. George Bancroft. 30. Abraham Lincoln.
5. James Abram Garfield. I8. Andrew Jackson. 31. James.Madison.
6. Albert Gallatin. 19. George Washington. 32. William Wirt.
7. William Henry Harrison. 20. Grover Cleveland. 33. Andrew Johnson.
8. Edward Everett. 21. James Knox Polk. 34. William Harris Crawford.
9. Rutherford Birchard Hayes. 22. John Quincy Adams. 35. Henry Clay.
o1. Salmon Portland Chase. 23. Caleb Cushing. 36. Benjamin Harrison.
II. Martin Van Buren. 24. Zachary Taylor. 37. Ulysses Simpson Grant.
12. John Tyler. 25. John Caldwell Calhoun. 38. John Marshall.
13. James Monroe. 26. Millard Fillmore.
A large proportion of the solutions were accompanied by friendly letters. This is one of the pleasantest fea-
tures of the ST. NICHOLAS competitions, and it seems only fair to share a few of these letters with our readers.


"Whenever I see a new puzzle in your delightful
magazine I almost shout for joy, I am so glad. This
last puzzle has been particularly interesting and difficult.
I akm sure I have looked over more than fifty books in
search of information. I am so proud of the thirty crim-
son books ST. NICHOLAS- which decorate my shelf."
"I live twenty-five miles from a town, and have no-
thing to get my answers from but' Barnes' Brief His-
tory of the United States,' and a 'Life of Jackson';
but I hope they are all right."
"I wish to express my interest and pleasure in the
good work your prize puzzles are doing. My daughter


sent-in her answers yesterday, and the amount of help
which the effort has given her, for future use, is very
great. She has proved for herself how many difficult
and apparently impossible things may be learned by per-
sistent inquiry and searching; and I feel very grateful to
you, inasmuch as through you she is developing qualities
which are not very prominent yet those of patience
and perseverance. We have delighted in your magazine
many years. This year it seems better than ever."
"When I took up the March number I could not answer
more than one or two questions. This puzzle has shown
me how much I do not know about United States his-
tory."


LIST OF PRIZE-WINNERS.
First Prize, Five Dollars: Floretta G. Elmore.
Two Second Prizes of Four Dollars each: Marshall Coxe and Blanche Huffman.
Five Third Prizes of Three Dollars each: J. Watson Dwight, Boyd Marshall, Florence McKusick, Edmund
Bassett, and Edwin Jones Carleton.
Ten Prizes of Two Dollars each: Townsend King Wellington, Sara A. Wardwell, Abbot A. Thayer, Milly G.
Sykes, Ada Claire, Francis Randall Appleton, Jr., Charles Lanier Appleton, Karl Donald Kimball, Clara M. Lath-
rop, and Louise McDonald.






788 REPORT UPON THE PRIZE PUZZLE, "A CENTURY OF PRESIDENTS."


Twelve Prizes of One Dollar each: Daniel C. Fitz, Will Allis, Ruth Peirce, Ethel Alton Rockwell, Grace
Matthews, Helen M. Wallace, Gladys W. Baldwin, Edith R. Hill, Bess Kelly, Ariel Parish, Bradford Sturtevant,
and Mary F. Kneeland.
ROLL OF HONOR.

Sixty-one correct solutions were received. Out of these the Committee of Judges selected the thirty that
showed the most accurate and painstaking work, and to these the prizes are awarded. It will be seen, therefore,
that all those whose names follow have done work of special excellence.
Louisa L. Burrows, Charles McCausland, Willie L. Kiernan, Aldrich Durant, Mary R. Bergstrom, Carl H.
Phillips, Elizabeth B. Piper, Annie E. Thacher, Hazel R. Hyde, Grace Van Ingen, Joseph B. Eastman, Lucia K.
Dwight, John L. Stettimus, Jr., Deane Edwards, Marguerite A. Marney, Julia M. Hoyt, Chauncey B. Carver, Ag-
nes B. Wylie, Seth E. Hodge, Grace C. Norton, Helen R. Coggeshall, Ralph W. Deacon, Anna V. Kisinger,
Anne V. L. Orvis, Lewis H. Tooker, Clarence H. Sutherland, Margaret Spencer Wilson, Helen M. Stott, John C.
Parish, Sadie Donaldson, and Walter Clark.
Margaret D. Rodes, Susan D. Williams, Mary Stockton, Charles D. Harmon, Margaret W. Stone, Frederic H.
Taber, Albert H. Pratt, Morgan W. Jopling, Marguerite Stott, Florence A. Wilson, Marie L. Slack, James J. For-
stall, Harold W. Bynner, Nellis M. Crouse, Frank S. Preston, Harold J. Staples, Elma M. Eaton, Lois A.
Reed, Harry F. Morris, Eunice Wead, Ethel Pike, Janet Dana, Rachel Phipps, Hilda K. White, Dorothy Wright,
Gertrude G. Vroom, Julia B. Thomas, Norman G. Conner, Kenneth White, John C. More, Emma J. Pratt,
Annie P. Weekes, Edward L. Lincoln, Esther L. Swartz, Charles E. Moore, Bertha Carleton, Rex G. Post, Ona
C. Gibson, Alice E. Dyar, Jessie McClatchey, Kathryn A. Fisher, Charles S. Pillsbury, Edna L. MacLellan,
Lucy A. Maling, Elsie Green, Mamie Johnson, E. E. Kimlnel, Henrietta W. Drury, Mamie Blaikie, Ruth Farley,
Dellie R. Bartlett, and Evelyn Jenkins.





THE LETTER-BOX.


CONTRIBUTORS are respectfully informed that between the Ist of June and the x5th of September manuscripts cannot convenientlybe
examined at the office of ST. NICHOLAS. Consequently, those who desire to favor the magazine with contributions
will please postpone sending their MSS. until after the last-named date.


CITY OF MEXICO.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a Texas boy twelve years
old. We are now visiting in Mexico. This is a beauti-
ful city, and we have seen many wonderful things. The
old Cathedral, which is said to be built on the ruins of
an Aztec temple, cost millions of dollars. We go there
nearly every day to see the crowds and hear the music.
It is filled with kneeling beggars, mostly women and
children.
The flowers here are very beautiful, and at the flower
market on Zocalo Square you can get nearly every kind
of flower that grows.
We went to a bull-fight, but we stayed only till the sec-
ond bull was killed. I would have stayed till it was
over, but mama could not stand it. I have a banderillo
that was used in a bull-fight.
We have taken ST. NICHOLAS all our lives.
We saw the statue of Charles IV. It is the largest
equestrian statue in the world. It is said they killed the
sculptor to keep him from making another one.
I remain your interested reader,
FRANK B. ELSER.

BERWICK, ILL.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: My father was a soldier in the
late war, and I went with him to the encampment at
Louisville in 1895. From there we went to some of the
old battle-grounds, namely: The battle-field of Nash-
ville, where my father fought. From there we went to
Chattanooga; there we went over the battle-field of
Chickamauga. This is a very large battle-ground. It


took us all day to ride over it and Missionary Ridge.
We went up the incline on Lookout Mountain. There
we could look over the city of Chattanooga, which was a
very pretty sight. Fromthere we went to Atlanta. I saw
where the six Andrews Railway Raiders were hung, and
went to the Exposition at Atlanta. From Atlanta we
went to Charlestown, where I saw the ocean. We went
out ten miles to Sullivan's Island, and saw Fort Sum-
ter and went through Fort Moultrie. We saw where
the famous Indian warrior Osceola was buried, and
from Charlestown we came home.
From your friend,
SYLVESTER D. MATTESON.


DETROIT, MICH.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: This is my first letter to you.
I write to tell you about our cats. We have three. One
is "Pompey," aged six, Tito," aged three, "Binco," aged
six months. Pompey had a birthday March 20, and we
celebrated it by giving him a party. We had a little
table for them to eat on and boxes to sit on. There
were plates heaped with stewed kidneys and liver and
a small cake with six candles. We invited in some
girl friends to see the fun. Each cat sat with his fore-
paws on the table, and ate down the dainties as fast as
they could. The small kitten did not have as good man-
ners as the others, and now and then would retire under
the table to gulp down a particularly large morsel, but
most of them behaved very well. I forgot to say that


[JULy,






THE LETTER-BOX.


the black cat had a red ribbon, the gray cat had a blue
ribbon, and the white kitten had a pink one. The cake
was cut and passed to the friends, also some tea in doll's
cups. Everybody, cats included, thought it a great suc-
cess.
We have taken you for nine years, and even my big
brother, who is sixteen, likes you better than any other
magazine. Your devoted reader,
RALPH DE P. EMERSON.

SAN FRANCISCO, CAL.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have taken you for nearly two
years, and I like you very much. I am not a regular
subscriber, but my father gets your magazine here. We
have a large-garden on top of a hill, and we have a fine
view of San Francisco Bay. We can sit for hours watch-
ing the boats go and come. In the evenings I sit down
and read your magazine, then at half-past seven o'clock
I study my lessons till eight o'clock, when I go to bed.
I remain your reader, ROBERT A. McLEAN.
BALTIMORE, MD.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I have taken you for four years,
and don't see how I can ever do without you. I always
look forward with great pleasure to the twenty-fifth of
each month, for that is the day on which you are pub-
lished. I am just back from the Inauguration. Never
had I seen so many soldiers at once before; and they
all marched so erect and straight in their lines. The
part I liked the best in the parade was the regiment of
the little Butler Zouaves tiny little fellows, the oldest
not more than ten. The daughter of their regiment was
a pretty little girl of about eleven, attired as "Liberty."
She kept step very well, and looked around smilingly as
the people cheered her.
Long life to you, ST. N1CHOLAS! I remain ever
your interested reader, GRACE B. WADE.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: It was with a great deal of
pleasure that I saw in your number for April a little es-
say on that villainous habit of checking horses. I have
a pony and a donkey; and I would rather see them shot
than see them driven with that instrument of torture.
Two or three weeks ago I saw a very bad accident.
A team of very high-spirited horses were hitched to a
light brougham. One of the horses got his hind leg
over the pole. He kicked about at a great rate. Now
I am sure what made him kick was that he was checked
up very high. If he had been able to put his head down
and could have turned it around and seen what the trou-
ble was, I am sure he could have got his leg out all right.
As it was they had to cut both pole-straps. This did
no good, as it was one of those poles that do not let
down. When that was done, both horses started off as
fast as they could go. They crashed into a lamp-post,
and one of the horses fell down, while the other got his
hind leg wedged in between the front wheel and the
dash-board. When they got the fallen horse up he was
given to me to hold. I led him off a little way as he
seemed to be very much excited. I then unchecked
him and he quieted right down, showing that what made
him so excited and nervous was not being able to have
free use of his neck and head. Finally they had to take
the front wheel off so as to get the other horse's leg out.
I wish it could be made a misdemeanor to check a
horse. Very truly, NATHANIEL M. NILES.

NEW ORLEANS, LA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Mardi Gras has passed from
New Orleans until 1898, and now New Orleans has gone
back to sackcloth and ashes once more. But I am going
to tell you about Mardi Gras.


Monday, March I, 1897, all the military companies in
the city turned out. The police headed the procession.
The ex-mayor of New Orleans, Mr. Fitzpatrick, came
next. Next came some carriages containing Mayor
Flower of New Orleans, and the officers of the Texas,"
and Maine," and two French ships that are here; then
came the Washington Artillery and three other compa-
nies. After the sailors of the Texas and Maine came
" Rex," the King of the Carnival. The night parade
of Proteus was fine; it had twenty floats. The par-
ade of Rex was Tuesday's parade. The Phunny
Phorty Phellows followed Rex. The night parade of
Tuesday was Comus. The subject of Proteus was Or-
lando Furioso "; the subject of Comus was Homer's
" Odyssey "; the subject of Rex was, On the Water-
Real and Fanciful"; the subject of the Phunny Phorty
Phellows was Songs That Never Die."
Your affectionate reader, WILLIAM K. DART.

OAK PARK, ILL.
DEAR ST..NICHOLAS: I am a girl of eleven. We
take you, and I like you very much. I read you a great
deal. I saw a letter yesterday, written to you by Ethel
Finney telling of her visit to Switzerland, and about see-
ing the Jungfrau Mountain. Papa and mama went to
Switzerland and Germany, and all about in those places
in 1894. And right below the Jungfrau, M6nch, and
Eiger Mountains there was a little trunk-store, and papa
and mama went in to buy a trunk, and they saw two An-
gora kittens and their mother. They bought them, and
brought them home. On the steamer coming home they
were offered forty dollars for the two kittens; but they
would not sell them. "Eiger" is mine, and Monch"
was my sister Theo's; but poor Mdnch died in January,
1896, when he was one year and four months old. And
"Jungfrau now has two baby kittens.
Your loving friend,
MARGARET THANKFUL CRATTY.

JEFFERSON BARRACKS, MO.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl nine years
old. My brother has been taking the ST. NICHOLAS
ever since he was four years old, and he now is seven-
teen.
There are a good many children here.
I have two sisters and three brothers, and we go rid-
ing nearly every Saturday. I do not use a saddle yet,
but I ride bareback.
My father is an army officer in the cavalry.
On the first day of April the soldiers here had a tug-
of-war, and running and jumping matches; and we all
wanted to stay home from school to see them.
I go to school in Carondelet. Your little friend,
HELEN C. HUNTER.

DELHI, OHIO.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a reader of your ST.
NICHOLAS.
I went to Europe last summer with my papa, mama,
and my brother. While we were there we met Princess
Marie of Denmark, and my papa promised her an Am-
erican cow-girl saddle. He has had it made since we
came home, in his factory at Cincinnati. It is made of
white buckskin and fair leather. The seat, and where
the white buckskin was used, were embroidered in the
white rose of Denmark and the lily of France. Papa
says it is the finest saddle ever made in the country, and
as he has seen a good many, I think he must know.
Papa has sent the saddle to the princess and expects an
answer soon.
I am eight years old, and I hope you will publish this
letter. WILTON D. CAMPBELL.


789






THE LETTER-BOX.


EDGEFIELD, S. C.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a new subscriber to your
magazine, and like it very much. I like the story of
"The Last Three Soldiers "best of all in the magazine.
I am a little boy. I shall soon be eight years old. I
livejn a hilly and a red-clay country. I go to school
every day it does n't rain; I have a long walk, nearly
two miles, and go all by myself. I study Geography,
History, Spelling, the Fifth Reader, and Arithmetic. I
am nearly through fractions. I love my teacher. I
have two little brothers, Ben and Floyd.
Wishing you good luck, yours truly,
JOHN RAINSFORD.

MINNEAPOLIS, MINN.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I enjoy you very much. It was
two years ago last November that my father presented
you to me, on my tenth birthday.
I will tell you about the house-moving in our city.
Colonel Stevens was the first man to build a house in Min-
neapolis. It is a small wood-frame house with four rooms
-two rooms up and two downstairs. The park board of
Minneapolis decided to move the house to Minnehaha
Park, and keep it as a relic. They gave all the school
children a holiday, and all those above third grade, car
fare being furnished free, helped to move the house by
pulling long ropes fastened to the house. They had
twelve horses hitched on, though, who really did all the
work while we had all the fun. Of course so many
children could not pull at once, so the different schools
took turns, each pulling for two or three blocks.
The different schools wore badges, numbered, and our
school, the Schiller, was Relay No. 5. The badges bore
a little picture of the house and the following inscription :


SOUVENIR CARD.
RELAY NO. 5.
Moved to Minnehaha Park by Scholars of
Minneapolis,
May 28, 1896,
Minnehaha Ave. and 34th St., 12 M.,
Colonel John H. Stevens' House, Built in 1840-50.
First house built in Minneapolis.


We had a lovely day at the park, which is very beauti-
ful, and we children sang and laughed all the way out
and back in the cars. There were so many more chil-
dren than grown folks, that no one thought of makings
behave. From your faithful reader,
'CATHARINE DEHAVEN.
KANSAS CITY, Mo.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: This is a breeze from the
West-the best part of North America. Formerly I
lived in Westport, a suburb of Kansas City, in an old-
style Southern house. Many are the houses of this kind
in Westport.. There is one old house in Westport that
is exactly like General Lee's old home in Virginia, and
one that was once the headquarters of General Jubal
Early. Near Westport is a large wood in which snakes
abound. It is undermined by innumerable caves and
tunnels, some of which are said to contain buried
treasure.
An old Indian called Indian Juan," who lives some-
where in the forest, claimed, last summer, to have found
an old cave in which were buried $16,ooo,oo0, in gold,
and silver, and jewels. He alleged that the treasure was
buried years and years ago by some of the many Spanish


and Mexican robbers that then thronged around the
town, and whose occupation was to plunder the rich cara-
vans from Mexico. He claimed, also, to have located
another cave in which a very large sum of money was
supposed to have been buried by Quantrell's band.
I remain your devoted reader,
HARRY S. JAMISON.

BAYOU GOULA, LA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I live on a plantation. Papa
is a planter, and raises sugar-cane.
I have four sisters and two brothers. Sometimes we
go out crayfishing. We went out in the woods once
this year on horseback to crayfish. Papa rode on one
horse and I rode on the other, and we each took some
one behind us. We did not catch many crayfish.' I
think the negroes had been there before us.
I am thirteen years old, and my name is
JANIE RANDOLPH.

SAN FRANCISCO, CAL.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am twelve years old. We
have taken the ST. NICHOLAS ever since it began-
many years before I was born.
I noticed a letter in the March number mentioning
deer on Tamalpais, so I thought I would tell you my
experience with them on the north slope of that moun-
tain. We have a little cabin there to which we went
last summer. I went hunting several times without any
success, usually seeing only does. But one day a man
asked me to go hunting with him the next day. He
had two quite good dogs, so I said I would go with him.
We hunted all the morning without seeing a deer; so
we stopped at a spring to get our lunch. We decided
to go a little farther to some willows, and if we did
not find any there to go home..
We sent the dogs into the* shrubbery, and then we
separated. In a few minutes we heard a great rustling
and yapping, and out came a fine buck followed by one
of the dogs. He passed right by the man who only got
one shot and missed the deer; then he came toward me.
I shot at him five times. He ran a little way, and then
fell. I had the head stuffed, and the skin cured.
I remain your interested reader,
HENRY R. SANDER.


CHEVY CHASE, MONTGOMERY CO., MD.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: My father used to be in the
army, but he was retired on account of illness that he
had from time to time, so he could not march.
We go away nearly every summer, and one summer
when we went to a place in Virginia, three of my bro-
thers and myself were lost in a cave for two hours and a
half. It was pitch dark in there, as I suppose every
cave is, so we took two boxes of matches in with us, and
some sticks; but they all were used up; and when we
got out there were only four matches left.
I have four brothers and no sisters. We all have bi-
cycles, excepting the youngest, who is only four, and he
is going to get a velocipede.
Very truly your reader, ANNIE P. T- .

WE thank the young friends whose names follow for
pleasant letters received from them: Horace W. Wright,
Elsie Rose, Elizabeth Y. L., Griselda and Faustina Van
D., Margaret Lyall, Margherita E. Welling, Susie Hill,
Robert Amory, Jr., Walter Bell Whittlesey, Fanny R.
Holmes, Elsie Adams Seeger, Teddie Arbuthnot, Rosa-
mond C., Marie Halsted, Edythe Stewart, Marguerite
Bradley, Helen M. Burton, Fred Swedenborg, Eva M.
Blatchford, Rowena M. Newton, May D., Ruth and
Elsie Schlaefer, Paul Peters, Kathleen.


790

















ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE JUNE NUMBER.
CUBE. From I to 2, artifice; I to 3, addicted; 2 to 4, earnings; SUBTRACTIONS. I. Foxes, foes. 2. Sold, sod. 3. Creek, reek.
3 to 4, dungeons; 5 to 6, ruminant; 5 to 7, retiform; 6 to 8, ter- 4. Visit, sit. 5. Play, pay. 6. Shove, shoe. 7. Place, pace. 8.
pered; 7 to 8, marigold; x to 5, afar; 2 to 6, erst; 4 to 8, stud; 3 Draft, raft. 9. Paint, pant. o1. Dear, ear.
to 7, deem. CHARADE. Door-step.
ADDITIONS. Cora-1. Babe-I. 3. Pear-1. 4. Pau-1. 5. CONNECTED SQUARES. I. a. Hole. 2. Over. 3. Lets. 4. Erst.
Haze-I. 6. Cur-1. 7. Ear-1. II. z. Emus. a. Mint. 3. Undo. 4. Stop. III. i. This. 2.
OMITTED ANAGRAMS. I. Teams, meats, mates, tames, steam. Hoot. 3. Iota. 4. Stay. IV. Mass. 2. Abet. 3. Sere. 4.
2. Spare, parse, reaps, pears, spear. 3. Pleas, leaps, lapse, pales, Stem. V. i. Yale. 2. Ales. 3. Leap 4. Espy.
sepal. 4. Least, slate, steal, tales, stale. 5. Items, smite, times, PROGRESSIVE NUMERICAL ENIGMA. Mathematics.
emits, mites. OBLIQUE RECTANGLE. I. 0. 2. Ape. 3. Opera. 4. Erose.
ILLUSTRATED PRIMAL ACROSTIC. Victoria. i. Violin. 2. Ibis. 5. Aside. 6. Edict. 7. Eclat. 8. Tabor. 9. Token. o1. Refer.
3. Crown. 4. Tambourine. 5. Obelisk. 6. Revolver. 7. Indian. x. Newel. 12. Red. 13. L.
8. Abacus. ANAGRAMS. i. James Russell Lowell. 2. Charles Dickens. 3.
WORD-SQUARE. I. Usage. a. Solon. 3. Alert. 4. Gorge. 5. Alfred Tennyson. 4. Alfred Austin. 5. William Makepeace
Enter. Thackeray. 6. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
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 APRIL NUMBER were received, before April 15th, from M. McG. -Helen C. McCleary-
"Jersey Quartette "- Marguerite Sturdy- Mary and Gertrude Wharton Allil and Adi- Paul Reese-- Josephine Sherwood "Four
Weeks in Kane "- Sigourney Fay Nininger- Frank G. Sayre Nessie and Freddie- Lillian S. and Emily R. Burt Two Little Bro-
thers,"- The Buffalo Quartette -"Epsilon Digamma,"-A. F. and H. Walton Anna L Van Wickle -C. D. Lauer Co.-A. M.
Cooch-Jo and I- Grace Edith Thallon.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE APRIL NUMBER were received, before April 15th, from Catherine Wilbur, I Carroll Shaffer, I -
Kent Shaffer, i-Jean Cragin, 7 -W. L., x Mary E. Meares, i-"We, Us, and-Co.," 7 Eugene Thorne Walter, 5 -John Scud-
der Dunham, 3- G..B. Dyer, ix -"Sea-Spray," 2 Mary Morgan, 5- Florence and Edna, 8-"Puzzleite from Posersville," i- Mar-
guerite Bradley, i-"The Four T.s," 9 -" Midget," 3-" Will O. Tree," 6- Viola Ethel Hope, i -Aunt Kate and Leo, 8-
" Class No. 1x," Dorothea Macvane, x -" R. P. W. and Trio," 9 Frederic G. Foster, x Katharine S. Frost, 7 Elsie Birdsong,
2 Mabel M. Johns, ix Karl E. Schwarz, i William C. Kerr, o Rikki-tikki-tavi," r Clara A. Anthony, i E. Everett and
Gobolinks, 7- Theodora B. Dennis, io--" Merry and Co.," so Daniel Hardin and Co., 6- Belle Miller Waddell, 9 Willie Wilbur,
S- Frederick J. Kelsey, 9.

PATRIOTIC PRIMAL ACROSTIC. eral; from o1 to II, a poetic contraction; from I to 6, a
hint; from 2 to 6, part of the body; from II to 6, a deer;
I. MEN, once enslaved, enjoy my first to-day. from Io to 6, before. G. B. DYER.
2. My second, nations free resist always.
3. My third, the secret of our country's strength.
4. King George provoked our grandsires to this step, RIDDLE.
at length.
5. We called those loyal to King George this name. NEITHER flesh nor fowl, though I have legs;
6. We called "Celestials thus when first they came. Laid freshly each day, though I am not eggs;
7. The seventh all greedy politicians seek to seize. Neither flower nor fruit, though I 've leaves a-many;
8. The eighth o'er all our land floats on the breeze. And without me for food you might not get any.
9. My ninth we hope to find in courts of law. L. E. JOHNSON.
10. My tenth, our country's title, without flaw.
hI. To win the eleventh our grandsires long did fight. Nl RICAL ENIGIA.
12. The red-skins gave this name to people white. PROGRESSIVE N ERICA ENIGMA.
This day we celebrate with noise and fire, i. LITTLE Gerty was so 1-2-3 4-5-6 1-2-3-4-5-6 used
While patriotic thoughts our hearts inspire. to call her Dame Dumpling.
FRANCESto call her Dame Dumpling.
FRANCES AMORY. 2. Please 1-2-3-4 5-6-7-8 to that 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8 lady
nHEXAGONS. over there.
3.E Eva asked her sisters I-2 3-4-5 6-7-8 a new hat,
I 2 and they all went 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8.
4. If I could hear you make your 1-2-3-4 I am 5-6-7-8
3 4 it would give me 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8.
5 6 7 5. Katie dropped her 1-2-3-4-5 doll, and broke its
1-2-3-4 5 while ago.
8 9 6. Oh, Jennie! About the ribbon I asked you 1-2-3,
o1 II please 4-5-6 it, if you do not 1-2-3-4-5-6 to.
7. Look at the 1-2-3, my 4-5-6; it has not looked so
I. FROM I to 2, a dwelling; from 3 to 4, affection; beautiful this 1-2-3-4-5-6.
from 5 to 7, to profit; from 8 to 9, an animal: from io to 8. I wish you to 1-2-3-4-5-6-7 the idea of having I
11, an insect; from I to 6, a tippet; from 2 to 6, a femi- 2-3-4-5 6-7 your new skirt.
nine name; from II to 6, an age; from o1 to 6, the cry 9. I have a perfect 1-2-3-4-5-6 for that 1-2-3,-4-5-6 is
of an animal. not becoming to me.
II. From I to 2, to sever; from 3 to 4, compositions 10. What will that old 1-2-3 4-5-6 if he is lucky enough
for two; from 5 to 7, a newspaper; from 8 to 9, a min- to hit the 1-2-3-4-5-6? M. E. FLOYD.
791






THE RIDDLE-BOX.


DOUBLE ACROSTIC.
MY primals and finals each name a notable invention.
CROSS-WORDS (of equal length): I. A small table.
2. To hold out. 3. Allowed by law 4. Dominion. 5.
Idle talk. 6. To like the flavor of. 7. A person with
white hair and pink eyes. 8. A place of restraint. 9.
To stick at small matters. A. C. BANNING.

CHARADE.
MY second on the ear doth fall;
My whole before my third doth stand;
Goes forth the gray old sentinel
And draws him in with eager hand.
The best is given of meat and wine,
The warmest corner by the fire,
Welcome my whole to young and old,
To highborn dame and lowly squire.
He tells of knights and ladies fair,
Of ghost and goblin, spells and charms -
Of gallant knight who was my first;
Then comes a tale of war's alarms.
My whole has on his listeners reckoned
To smile or weep, to hope or fear;
They long to crown him with my second,
And sound his praises far and near.
CHARLOTTE OSGOOD CARTER.
ILLUSTRATED PFItAL ACROSTIC.

\\ / '


(I


C~~~


EACH of the seven small pictures may be described
by a single word. When these words have been rightly
guessed, and placed one below another, in the order in
which they are numbered, the initial letters will spell
a name borne by two famous Americans.
COUNTRIES IN DISGUISE,
FILL each blank with the name of a country. The
words printed in italics suggest the name to be applied.
"Turkey" fills the first blank, and "Hungary" the
second.
For my Thanksgiving dinner to I would hie;
In search of an appetite to I would fly;
For another helping to I would wend;
But simply for a lunch to the I 'd send;


If I were overheated to I 'd repair;
But to renew my ardor, I 'd seek air;
To don a garb of cheerfulness, I 'd land on -
If regretfully demented in I would mope;
In I 'd find an outlet to all my pent-up grief;
And on the shores of-- to my anger give relief;
If very fond of music, in I would stay;
And if my wheel were creaky, to I 'd haste away;
For a simple dwelling I 'd make my home;
But for more regal quarters to I would roam.
J. A. H.
A FLIGHT OF STAIRS.

******


I. A VEHICLE. 2. An esculent root. 3. Bad. 4.,
Delicate. 5. Pertaining to the skin. 6. A Spanish
city. 7. A fungus. 8. Wealthier. 9. One who lives
in solitude. o1. Something a man had rather buy
than have given to him. II. A sinew. 12. To give.
13. Masticated. EUGENE T. WALTER.
DIAMOND.
I. IN hinder. 2. A chariot of war or of triumph. 3.
A masculine name. 4. A district on the west coast of
Africa. 5. A Nile boat. 6. A small but famous river.
7. The chief officer of a municipal corporation. 8.
Three-fourths of a tear. 9. In hinder. E. C. W.

DIAGONALS.
I. THE diagonal from the upper left-hand letter to the
lower right-hand letter, a beautiful shrub.
CROSS-WORDS: I. An inn. 2. Uneven. 3. A young
mare. 4. Weak or light-minded conduct. 5. To gather
together.
II. Diagonal, something often on the breakfast-table.
CROSSWORDS: I. Not plain. 2. Wandering tribes.
3. To disparage. 4. A measure of length, being the
distance from the elbow to the,extremity of the middle
finger. 5. Melodious. FLOYD.
NOVEL HOUR-GLASS.
I * % 17
2 * 16
3 15
4 14
5 .
13 6 6
12 7
11 8
o10 9
FROM I to 9 and from o1 to 17 each name a valuable
invention.
CROSSWORDS: I. The same as from I to 9. 2. To
surround. 3. A place of restraint. 4. An abbreviation
for one of the books of the New Testament. 5. A letter
from Europe. 6. A German pronoun. 7. The same
thing. 8. The monoceros. 9. The same as from 1o to
17. A. C. B.


THE DE VINNE PRESS, NEW YORK.


792






















































































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