• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Frontispiece
 Front Matter
 A four-leaved clover
 "Peter Spots" - fireman
 The clouds
 The fairies' frolics
 Master skylark
 Tom
 Timmy top-notch
 Priscilla's fairy godmother
 The dandelion's complaint
 A philosopher
 The last three soldiers
 The prince's cake
 Some common bees and how they...
 They're his
 On the grand banks and elsewhe...
 Miss Nina Barrow
 A jingle-jangle
 Tiwiddledetwit
 When King Kijolly farming goes
 My musical mouse
 Shopping
 Talk on the book-shelf
 Mother Goose songs without...
 The letter-box
 Our riddle-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/UF00065513/00328
 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: VID00328
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 794
    Front Matter
        Front Matter
    A four-leaved clover
        Page 795
    "Peter Spots" - fireman
        Page 796
        Page 797
        Page 798
        Page 799
        Page 800
        Page 801
        Page 802
        Page 803
        Page 804
    The clouds
        Page 805
    The fairies' frolics
        Page 806
        Page 807
    Master skylark
        Page 808
        Page 809
        Page 810
        Page 811
        Page 812
        Page 813
        Page 814
        Page 815
        Page 816
        Page 817
        Page 818
    Tom
        Page 819
    Timmy top-notch
        Page 820
        Page 821
        Page 822
    Priscilla's fairy godmother
        Page 823
        Page 824
        Page 825
        Page 826
        Page 827
        Page 828
        Page 829
    The dandelion's complaint
        Page 830
    A philosopher
        Page 831
    The last three soldiers
        Page 831
        Page 832
        Page 833
        Page 834
        Page 835
        Page 836
        Page 837
        Page 838
        Page 839
        Page 840
        Page 841
        Page 842
        Page 843
    The prince's cake
        Page 844
        Page 845
        Page 846
        Page 847
    Some common bees and how they live
        Page 849
        Page 850
    They're his
        Page 848
    On the grand banks and elsewhere
        Page 851
        Page 852
        Page 853
        Page 854
        Page 855
        Page 856
    Miss Nina Barrow
        Page 857
        Page 858
        Page 859
        Page 860
        Page 861
        Page 862
    A jingle-jangle
        Page 863
    Tiwiddledetwit
        Page 864
        Page 865
        Page 866
        Page 867
        Page 868
    When King Kijolly farming goes
        Page 869
    My musical mouse
        Page 870
        Page 871
    Shopping
        Page 872
    Talk on the book-shelf
        Page 873
    Mother Goose songs without words
        Page 874
        Page 875
    The letter-box
        Page 876
        Page 877
        Page 878
    Our riddle-box
        Page 879
    The riddle-box
        Page 880
    Back Matter
        Back Matter
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
    Spine
        Spine
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ST. NICHOLAS.


IN a corer by the wall
Stood a Four-leaved Clover,
Trying hard to grow so high
That she might peep over.
Discontented ? No, not she !
Pleasant world she found it;
Only thought she 'd like to see
What might be beyond it.

Apple-tree at noonday threw
Shadows cool above her.
Every creature in the field
Could not choose but love her.
Beetles gliding through the grass,
Birds that fluttered over,
Breeze and butterfly and bee
Stopped to chat with Clover.

Came an early Sunbeam down
In the morning quiet:
"Clover, dear, your hair is wet-
Shall I help you dry it?
Slept without your night-cap ? Ah,
But you must not do it.
Soon your hair will lose its curl,
Then how you will rue it!"


No. 10.


Came a roaming Bumble-bee,
Pockets full of money:
"Ah, good morning, Clover sweet,
What's the price of honey ? "
"Help yourself, sir," Clover laughed;
"Bumble, you 're too funny!
Never clover yet so poor
She must sell her honey."

Came a whirring Humming-bird,
All alive and busy:
"Clover, I 'm so glad to-day,
I am fairly dizzy.
Listen, quick I have no time
To be still and restful;
Our young birds have cracked the shell-
Such a pretty nest-full!"

Came a Squirrel, on the wall
Close beside her lingering.
Little brown three-cornered nut
He 's fumbling and fingering:
"Cracking nuts is easy, quite,
If you only knew it.
Clover, shall I show you how?
You could learn to do it."


VOL. XXIV.


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


A FOUR-LEAVED CLOVER.

BY REBECCA PALFREY UTTER.






A FOUR-LEAVED CLOVER.


Came an anxious Mother Hen
With cackling and with clucking:
"Have you seen my thirteenth chick?
Everywhere I 'm looking."
"Yes; I saw a downy ball
From the others wander--
Chasing a green grasshopper
In the tall grass yonder."

Came on tiptoe through the trees
Whispering Breezes cheery:
"Dusty is the day and warm;
Are you tired, deary?


"PETER


THIS is how Joe, the. driver of the engine,
told me the story of Peter Spots:
How did we get him ? well, I don't re-
member exactly. Let me see. It was about
three years ago or more may be more and
- oh, yes, Billy has it right. He was chased
in here one night by a lot of boys. Now I do
remember, and mighty well too. Bob was on
watch that night. You see Bob 's my partner,
or relief, as we call it. He drives the engine
when I am on my day off or but at my meals.
We always have at least two drivers, sometimes
more, both for the engine and tender, in case
one is off, or out of the house, when we get a
'run,' as we call an alarm of fire.
"Yes, Bob was on watch, and he and I and
Billy were standing over there beside the 'trip'
talking. Billy was telling us one of his yarns.


Shall we beckon yonder cloud,
Bid him hurry over,
Scatter cooling rain-drops down ?"
" Do, my friend," said Clover.

So through every long, bright day
Of the long, bright summer,
Friendly words and kind she heard
From each friendly comer.
Grasshopper and butterfly,
Birds that fluttered over,
Every creature loved her well,
Little Four-leaved Clover.


SPOTS"- FIREMAN.


BY C. T. HILL.


He 's the oracle of the Company, and an old-
timer from the days of the old volunteers. Born
and raised up the State somewhere, he be-
longed to the fire brigade in his native town
before he came to New York. In those days
all the apparatus they had to fight a fire with
was a few buckets and a sponge. The sponge
was used to cool the boys off when they got
too excited in having arguments as to who was
to put out the fire -at least that 's what Billy
says. Then Billy came to the city, and joined
the old volunteers; and when this Department
was organized in 1864, he drifted in with the
rest of the old-timers, and has been a fixture
ever since. But he is pretty well worn out now,
he 's been overcome with smoke so many times,
had his arms and legs broken in several places,
falling down hatchways and off ladders, and






" PETER SPOTS FIREMAN.


such like; and he 's taken the 'dose' so much
he is full of rheumatism.
The dose' is what we call getting chuck
full of smoke in a cellar-fire, or getting soaked
with water while doing ladder-work in the
winter time. Standing at the peak of a ladder
with a heavy stream working over your head,
you get the drippings of that stream for two
.or three hours, and maybe the full force of it,
-once in a while, and you won't have a dry
stitch on you; and if the thermometer is down
about zero, it '11 be apt to leave you with a
touch of rheumatism. That 's the way Billy
got his. But I am getting away from my story
about Peter. Yes, Billy was telling one of his
old yarns, something about his company, the
Pioneer Hose, washing Big Six in the days of
the old department.
"Big Six was one of the crack companies at
the time; and 'washing' consisted of pump-
ing more water into a rival company's engine
than they could pump out, and the boys were
as proud of having washed a rival's engine in
those days as we are to-day in beating another
company in their own territory and getting first
water' over them, which we take great pride
in doing.
"Well, Billy was telling us this yarn we 'd
only heard it about forty or fifty times before;
but we did n't say anything, only made believe
it was all new to us; for it did n't do us any
harm to listen to it, and it gave him a great
deal of pleasure to tell it, and he had told it so
many times I guess he half began to think it
really happened; but I did n't take much stock
in it myself. All of a sudden there came a ki-
yi-ing of a dog out in the street, and a hollering
of a lot of boys, and something came flying in
through the open doors and took refuge over
there, in a corner of the 'hose-tower.' 'A mad
dog!' says Billy; and with that a crowd of boys
ran up to the doorway and began waving sticks
.and a-shouting and hollering like mad; and I
really think if we had n't been there they would
have marched right in and yanked the poor
fellow out. As it was, one leaned over the
-chain and shied a stone at the comer where he
was hiding, and I shouted, Clear out o' here,
you rapscallions!' But bless you, sir, they
did n't mind that -not much. They were a


hard lot from down the avenue a bit; and we
have a good deal of trouble with them. It
is only luck that we have n't run over half a
dozen or more of them when we are turning
out. Seeing that did n't have any effect on
them, I reached for my whip on the engine,
and started for the crowd; and you ought to
have seen them dust! Why, when I got to the
pavement there was n't a sign of them any-
where. They disappeared like the wind. I
then came back, and putting the whip up in
place again, I went over to see what kind of a
dog it was. Billy calls out: Look out, Joe!
Maybe he's mad.' But I says: 'Not much;
only frightened a bit.' And I knelt down be-
side him. He was crouching in the comer,
licking a place on his hind leg where one of
the rascals had hit him with a stone. At first
he growled a little; but I spoke kindly to him,
and seeing he was n't going to get hurt, he be-
gan wagging his tail and shaking his head back
and forth as if he knew me.
Billy came over, and looking at him says:
'Why, he 's a coach-dog, and not a bad-look-
ing fellow either, only he has n't seen a square
meal for some time. I '11 bet those varmints of
boys have scairt the life half out o' him. Say,
Joe, he would be a good dog for the house.
Why, I remember when I was down in 17 En-
gine -' but just then the Captain came in and
I was spared another one of Billy's yarns.
"' Captain,' says I, would you like a dog ?'
No, I guess not,' says he, slowly; we have
killed all the dogs we ever had-run over them;
and then, he would be getting in the way of the
horses when we 're turning out, and -'.
'No,' said Billy. He's a coach-dog and
used to horses; he would n't be in the way.'
Where did you get him ? says the Captain.
He ran in here a few moments ago. Some
boys chased him in,' says I.
"' Well, he '11 run out again, the first chance
he gets,' replied the Captain.
I don't think so,' says I. He's been badly
treated, and if we give him something to eat
and treat him right he will stay with us, I
think; and if anybody wants to come and claim
him, and can prove that he is theirs, they can
have him.'
By this time the Captain was interested,


797






" PETER SPOTS "- FIREMAN.


I'I (II!


--C--L-. r
"
"'WOULD YOU LIKE TO BE A FIREMAN S DOG

and he 's as good-hearted a man as ev~
aleather hat andl fondl of horses andl d


he leans over and says to Peter, who was sitting
there looking so solemn: 'Would you like to
be a fireman's dog?'
"I '11 eat my hat if I don't think he knew
what the Captain said, for he put his two front
paws forward and rubbed his nose up and down
between them, as much as to say: Yes.'
What's his name ? says the Captain.
Billy and I shook our heads, and I says,
'We don't know.'
"'What's your name?' says the Captain,
looking right at him.
He looked back as if he wanted to speak,
and opened his mouth and moved his tongue
from one side to another as if trying to say
something.
"' That 's not loud enough,' hollers the Cap-
tain, laughing. 'What 's your name ?'
"This time the dog gave one short bark.
"' That sounds like Pete,' said Billy; there's
only one syllable in it !'-Billy 's a smart one
even if he is an old-timer.
"' Well, Pete it is,' says the Captain. All
right, boys, take care of him -and Joe, see
that you don't run over him. And Bob,'-


giving a wink to me (Bob was sitting at the
desk),-' put him down in the house-journal as.
a new member, and see that he responds on the
floor at roll-call in the morning;- and Billy,.
here,'-he put his hand in his pocket and
pulled out a quarter, and tossed it to him,-' go,
around to McNally's restaurant and get him
something to eat we can't let a new member
S go hungry, can we, boys ?'
That was just like the Captain; he would n't
I let any one go hungry -least of all a poor
S dumb animal.
"Bob had opened the book and was put-
ting him down in the journal, as serious as a
judge.
"' Fireman of the third grade, Captain ? he
sung out.
"' Yes,' says the Captain, fireman of the
third grade.'
"' Peter-' and then Bob stopped. Peter
zx what ? says he.
"' I don't know,' says the Captain, and he:
looked at me.
er wore "' Well,' chimes in Billy, he's all over black
onfs s spots. I 'd call him Peter Spots!'


PETER ON "HOUSE WATCH."


798






"PETER SPOTS FIREMAN.


"'That 's right,' says the Captain; Billy,
you 're a jewel; Peter Spots it is. And now,
go and get him something to eat, or he '11
starve to death before we get him down in the
journal.'
And down he went in the books as Peter
Spots, new member,' and that's how he came
to join our company.
The first night he was with us we did n't
have any 'calls,' and after getting a good meal
from what Billy brought back he crawled over
there behind one of the stalls and went to sleep
-the first good night's sleep, I guess, he 'd
had for a long while. The next morning he
was up early, as frisky as could be, playing with
the man on watch and a-cutting up high jinks
all around here, for you see he was a young
dog and playful like. Just then a station came
in the gong began to hit and we came
piling down from above. The horses rushed
out, and the racket kind o' scared him,--it
came so sudden,- and he went sneaking off to
the back of the house with his tail hanging
down as if he was afraid he 'd knocked some-
thing over and caused all the hubbub.
S"The station did n't touch us, though, and
we did n't go -that is, not on the first alarm,
but it was one of our second-alarm stations, and
while we were waiting, for we always keep the
horses hitched up and wait on the floor for ten
minutes on all stations that we are due on' on
the second alarm, the Captain says: Where's
the' new member?' but nobody knew, so we
all shook our heads.
"The house-watchman said the last he saw
of him, he was skipping off toward the back of
the floor when the 'joker' began to ring, and
we looked all over, but could n't find him any-
where, and the Captain declared he 'd run
away, just as he said he would. But finally,
about twenty minutes after, when we got the
'test call,'--which is eleven taps that we get
every morning at 8 o'clock, from headquarters,
to see that the wires are all in working order,
and which also serves as the roll call' of the
company, and is the beginning of another day's
' watches,'- he came crawling out of the furnace
of that spare engine, that we keep over there in
the corner, where he had hid himself, and
sneaking along the stalls he came over to us,


looking very sheepish and ashamed. The Cap-
tain, winking at me, hollered at him: You 're
a nice fireman, you are. If you don't respond
in better order at roll-call in the morning after
this, we '11 have you up before the Commission-
ers, and have you fined five days' pay! '
"But Billy spoke up and took his part, and
said:
"' Don't be hard on him, Captain. He 's a
new member, and new members are always
nervous. Why, that gong would give most
any one the heart-disease, hearing it the first
time, it comes so suddint! Why, I remember
when I was down in 5 Truck, we had a new
member on, an' the first time he'- but the
Captain cut him short, saying, You 'd better
go to breakfast, Billy; you 're the first one off
this morning,' and so another one of Billy's
stories was spoiled.
"The first run we made after getting him, he
did n't go with us, and we were wondering
when we were rolling home whether we would
find him in the engine-house on our return, or
whether he had turned out with us and we had
lost him on the way to the fire; for we 're not
over particular in taking notice of things around
us when we are getting out when an alarm of
fire comes in. The first idea is to get out, and
that as quickly as possible; and as we had all
become interested in Peter, we were anxious to
see whether he had deserted us or not; but
when we opened the door of the house, out he
came bounding, jumping up at all of us, and
barking away, as much as to say: 'Well, did
you put out the fire ? Sorry I was n't with you,'
or something like that; for to me he is so smart
that I think he is trying to talk all the time in
his own way. And now -well, bless you, sir,
he 's the first one out of the house. The in-
stant the gong begins to ring, he takes his po-
sition right there under the front truck of the
engine, and there he stands. Eyes wide open,
ears up, and tail sticking right straight out, he
watches me. The moment I start for the seat,
he 's off like a shot for the end of the pole be-
tween the horses, barking like mad; for he
knows we are going out, or I would n't jump
for the seat. When the doors open, out he goes
like a bullet out of a gun; and if there is any-
one passing or standing outside, he clears them


799





" PETER SPOTS FIREMAN.


away in short order; and there 's very little
danger of running over any one as long as we
have him ahead of us, for he clears the way
better than two or three men could. On he
keeps, all the way to the fire, and half a block
or more in front of the engine.
And now let me tell you how smart he is;
for no matter how rough the street may be, no
matter how dirty, muddy, or slushy it is, nor
how the stones may hurt his feet, on he goes,
and never leaves it; but when we are coming
home, bless your life! the street is n't good
enough for him, and you can't get him into it,
no matter how you may coax. No, sir; he
takes the sidewalk back, and walks along as
quiet and dignified as can be, scarcely ever no-
ticing any other dog on his way; for I think he
feels that he is much more important than they
are, and that they are not in his class at all.
And he won't stop when we get to the fire; but
he follows us right in the building, down a base-
ment, or up a ladder- ah, now I see you are
laughing, and don't believe what I am telling
you, but it is a fact. He can climb a ladder
with the best of us, providing it ain't too high a
one, and he follows us right in with the line;
but he can't come down a ladder; he has n't
the knack of that yet, and that 's where the
trouble comes in. Many's the time we've gone
up and brought him out overcome with smoke,
and carrying him down, laid him in the wagon
to get over it.
And many 's the time the Chief has said to
us: Some of you fellows will be losing your
lives yet with that dog!' But, pshaw! sir, we
would as soon think of leaving one of the com-
pany behind as leaving Peter; for he is one of
the company, although he 's only a dog.
"And he 's taken his dose with the best of
us. Got full of smoke lots of times, and soaked
with water over and over again. Came home
one night with his tail frozen stiff. Got drenched
at a cellar-fire, and as it was a bitter cold night
it froze on him on his way back. He was on
the sick list for a long while after that, and we
had him tied up in the cellar near the furnace,
thawing out, and all done up in bandages; but
he came out all right. Then we knocked him
out of a window, one night, with a line. He
was standing on the sill, and we were making a


quick movement to get from one room to an-
other. There was good pressure on, and we
had a heavy stream to handle; and just as we
made a quick turn to get a 'belt' at another
room that was blazing up lively, we hit Peter,
standing on the window-sill, square with the
stream. Out he went sailing clear into the
middle of the street, just as if he 'd been shot
from a cannon. We thought he was done for
that time, sure; but when we backed out,'
about twenty minutes after, there he was, a
little lane, but nearly as lively as ever. There
was considerable snow in the street, and that
saved him.
"And burns ? Well, say, his back is all tat-
tooed from the burns he 's caught. What with
falling plaster and bits of burning wood, he is
all covered with bare places where the hair will
never grow again, but those are service marks,
and, I tell you, he's a veteran and proud of them.
"But poor Peter got into disrepute one day
and was suspended from active duty.' I must
tell you about it, for it is one of the events of his
life and shows that a dog never forgets.
It came about in this way: we always had
a reputation for being a lively company-for
turning out in good order and quickly, for
keeping all stations that we were due on first,
and not losing any of them to the other compa-
nies above or below us through slowness, and
for always being found in a good position' by
the Chief when he arrived at the fire some-
thing our Captain has taken a great deal of
pride in; but there came a time when everything
went wrong with us, and Peter, without mean-
ing any harm, helped it along. We got a new
team of horses for the engine and were break-
ing them in; they were pretty slow at first, and
it was quite a job, and it was as much as I could
do to get a run' out of them, and Peter got in
a bad habit of jumping up at them and biting
at their chests when we were on our way to a
fire. I suppose he thought he would make them
go faster by doing this; but this only made
matters worse, and instead of increasing their
speed they would balk and stop altogether.
"I tried to break him of it; but it was no use.
I fixed a long lash to my whip and would touch
him with it, but it did n't make any difference,
and I knew there would be trouble if he did n't


800


















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" PETER SPOTS "- FIREMAN.


stop, for we kept losing fires that were easily ours,
and to save Peter I kept blaming it on the horses,
and told the Captain it would be all right when
we got the team broken in. Finally there came
a day when everything went against us.
"We received an alarm of fire from a sta-
tion above here that should have been ours
without any trouble. You see, sir, there is a
great deal of rivalry among the companies
about getting to a fire, when an alarm comes in.
The next company above here lies about eight-
een blocks away; the next one below, about
fifteen blocks. We claim everything half the
distance either way. If we can hitch up a
little quicker than they can, and make better
time we can get fires away from either of the
other companies, for the first company to ar-
rive gets the fire,' that is, gets first water' as
we call it, and there is a great deal of' crow-
ing' done when we beat another company in
their own territory, and we feel very cheap
when we get beaten ourselves.
Well, that 's the way it was on the day
that Peter got suspended. The alarm came in
from a station that was in our half of the terri-
tory. A fire that ought to have been ours
easily, but the harness got 'jammed,'- would
not come down on the horses,- then when we
started the horses shied, and we came near kill-
ing our lieutenant, who was opening the doors.
This got the engine crooked, so that we could
not get through the doorway, and we had to
back her before we could get out, and I tell
you, everything went wrong. We only lost
a few seconds by these mishaps, but it was
enough to lose us the station.
When we finally got out and were going up
the avenue, I tried to make up for lost time by
giving the horses all the rein I could, and
giving them the whip once in a while, but
Peter was so excited by this time at the delay,
that he began jumping at the horses' chests
and biting at them, and they balked so they
would n't go at all. I suppose he meant well
enough, and wanted them to go faster, but he
only made matters worse; and when I got to
the fire there was our rival company at work,
- line stretched in and making all kinds of
mean remarks as we pulled at a hydrant. Even
the Chief was there, and he gave our Captain an


awful lecture wanted to know 'if we were
all asleep down at our quarters'; and 'if we
thought we were going to a funeral, that we
took so much time!' This almost broke the
old man's heart, and I tell you I never felt so
cheap in all my life as I did when I found how
late we were.
"When we got back to quarters again we all
got a lecture from the Captain, and then he took
me aside and said:
"' Joe, I don't like to do it, but we must get
rid of Peter. He 's bothering the horses a
good deal, and I cannot take any more chances
like that to-day. If I lose any more fires, you
know what will happen.' And he looked at
me hard, and I nodded my head; for I knew
that meant a transfer for him to another com-
pany. Then he went on to say: We must give
him to some nice fellow -some one who will
take good care of him and it must be some one'
who lives at a distance from here. You know,
if we give him to any one in the neighborhood
he '11 be back in fifteen minutes. Meanwhile,
he is not to turn out with us any more. So tie
him up until you find some one to take him.'
And so Peter was suspended from active duty.
It happened that I knew the very person to
turn him over to. There was a baker who de-
livered bread to some of the houses around
here, and whose shop was quite a way from
here,- about thirty or forty blocks,- and in a
street we were not apt to go through. He had
taken a great liking to Peter, and had offered to
buy him several times, and, of course, we had
always refused. Peter had also come to like
the baker very much, for he brought Peter,
every once in a while, an odd kind of bread
that Peter was very fond of. So that night, at
my supper-hour, I took Peter down to his
bake-shop, and transferred the smartest dog in

the fire department from an engine-house to a
bakery -a big come-down, I tell you.
At first we missed him a good deal; but in
a large fire department you get so used to
changes and transfers from one company to an-
other that in time you get so you don't miss any-
thing or anybody. So it was with Peter; and
though we all liked him, we knew he was with
some one who would take good care of him. I
went down to see him whenever I had a chance,


802






" PETER SPOTS FIREMAN.


and found he was getting along nicely, although
I could see he was broken in spirit; and no won-
der. Think of it! After the excitement of life in
a fire-engine-house, with the gongs a-hitting, the
horses a-prancing, and the men a-shouting, to
have to knuckle down to life in a dry, old bak-
ery, with nothing but a lazy Dutchman and a
lot of crullers and cream-puffs for company, is
enough to break any one's spirit; and I felt sorry
for Peter.
"We had almost forgotten about Peter, and
got used to not having him around, when one
day a 'third alarm' came in that took us out;
and in getting to the station I had to drive
through the street the baker's place was on.
I never thought of it myself, but, on my word,
Peter had n't forgotten us; and when we made
our appearance he showed up pretty quick.
The baker told me all about it afterward, and
this was the way it happened: Peter was lying
asleep beside the stove in the center of the
bake-shop, when all of a sudden he pricked up
one ear, and then jumped on his feet and gave
a bark. The baker was making out some bills
behind the counter, and thought nothing of it
until the next moment Peter gave one jump,
and was in the show-window among the pies
and cakes and such like. The baker hollered
to him to get out; but Peter began to claw at
the window, and bark and hdwl. You see he
could hear our whistle and bell aid had recog-
nized us. Then the baker made up his mind that
the dog had gone mad, and got'frightened and
got up on a chair, and began to holler himself;
and what with the baker and Peter, there was
a high old time in that bake-shop for a while.
Every time Peter gave a kick he knocked a pie
or a plate full of cakes out of the window until
he had it clear of everything. Then we hove
in sight; and through the side of the show-win-
dow he saw us and recognized me in the seat,
and that settled it--no bake-shop would hold
him then. He jumped back in the store, braced
himself plumb in front of the pane of glass in the
door, and when we were just about opposite
he gave one last howl, and crash! out he came
through glass and all!
"I heard the racket, and turned my head
just in time to see him come flying out. I un-
derstood it all in a moment, and expected to


see him roll over dead in the gutter; but not
much! He came through so quick he scarcely
got a scratch; and away he went, down the
street ahead of us, barking at every one, and
clearing the way just as he used to, and running
around in a circle and jumping high in the air
and cutting up gymnastics-and happy?-
well, I just guess he was happy! Even the
Captain heard him in all the racket behind the
engine, and let up on the whistle long enough
to holler ahead to me to look out and not run
over him; but there was small fear of that, for
he beat us by half a block all the way to the
fire.
"When we got there we stretched in and
stood fast,' as we call it, which means we
stretched in the hose, and got ready to go to
work when so ordered; but they did n't need
us, for the fire was pretty well out then, and
the third alarm had only been sent out as a
sort of precaution; so in a few moments the
Chief ordered us back to quarters.
When we were 'picking up,' or putting the
hose back in the wagon, Peter was around
among us like old times, and every one of the
' gang' had a kind word for him. He was cut a
bit about the back with glass, so the Captain says:
' Throw him in the wagon, boys, and we '11 take
him back to the house, and mend him up. I '11
put him on probation; and if he acts right he
can stay with us as long as he wants.' And
then he adds: But you fellows will have to
chip in and pay for that pane of glass.' And we
all laughed; for we were willing to pay for a
whole show-window to get Peter back again.
"Well, I guess I 've tired you almost out,
telling you about Peter's trials and troubles;
but you see, sir, we are all so fond of him we
never get tired talking about him to any one
who cares to hear. Now he 's settled down
and come to be a regular fixture-no more
pranks or tricks- steady as an old-timer. He
got all over bothering the horses; never did so
after we got him back; and anyway, he does n't
get much chance now. We 've got one of the
quickest teams in the business, and they can
race a mile with that old five tons of machinery
behind as fast as any other team in the de-
partment; and Peter has all he can do to keep
from getting run over; so he gives them a wide






" PETER SPOTS "- FIREMAN.


to a fire he would go
away around the block
-MAS to dodge it. Why, say
-.-\. I think -"
_But I neverheard what
'Joe thought, for at that
instant a gong began
N V\to ring,-a dozen men
seemed to drop from the
very sky,- horses rushed
past me,- there was a
shout here and there, and
a voice yelled: 632.
Seventy-fourth street and



EVERY TIME PETER GAVE A KICK. HE
KNOCKED A PIE OR A PLATE FULL OF
CAKES OUT OF THE WINDOW,'"

berth. When we catch a fire
in a butcher-shop he takes full
charge, and we always turn it
right over to him. He 's very
busy then. But when we strike
a fire in a bakery not much!
You could n't get him to go
near it for love or money.
He always gets right up in
the hose-wagon, on the driver's
seat, and won't budge for any
one; and if you go near him,
.after the fire is out, and make
believe you 're going to grab
him and carry him in the bak-
ery, maybe he won't growl and
show his teeth well, I just
guess He is n't going to take
any more chances of getting
shut up with crullers and cakes
for company.
"Smart ? Well, I should say
'so--why, when Dauchey's wa-
gon drives up now (that 's the
baker who had him for a while)
and Peter sees it, he has im-
portant business down in the
cellar, and nothing can get
him out of there except an "'CRASH! OUT HE CAME-THROUGH GLASS AND ALL!'"
alarm of fire. He knows that wagon well. I Eighth Avenue," -the big doors opened, and
do believe if he was to meet it on the way before I could recover my senses the engine


[AUG.






" PETER SPOTS FIREMAN.


rolled by me with Peter's historian in the seat
and two figures clinging on behind. The
engine left a streak of steam and a strong
smell of burning oil as it rolled out, and I
could see one of the figures dash a great
burning mass into the furnace. The next
instant a wagon full of partly dressed men
dashed by me, and I was alone in the big
house, the gong beating away with a peculiar
jerking "bang, bang," and a thin stream of
steam rising from the steam-pipe in the floor,
over which the "five tons of machinery" had
stood a quarter of a minute before.
A hat and coat and a halter-strap, thrown
here and there on the floor, were all the evi-
dence left of the fifteen or sixteen living,,breath-


ing creatures-men and horses-that had stood
.around me a few seconds before. The change
had come so quickly I could scarcely realize
it, and as I stepped outside, while a kindly
neighbor closed the massive doors, I uncon-
sciously looked about me for my friend and
for Peter. But they were gone had van-
ished from the street as quickly as they had
from the house; and all that remained was a
thin haze of smoke that filled the air with an
odd, pungent smell. In the distance I could
hear the clang of a bell, the shrieks of a whistle
gradually dying away, and above all the shrill
barks of a dog cries so sharp and penetrating
that I shall never forget them.
That was Peter Spots, fireman, on duty.


THE CLOUDS.

BY THOMAS TAPPER.


IN summer-time, when earth is warm,
I lie upon the grass
And watch the white clouds in the sky
As on and on they pass.


The distant clouds-those tipped with gold-
Seem islands fair to me;
The little ones, like white-sailed ships,
Speed o'er the deep blue sea.


I 'd like to climb up to the sky,
And sail in ships so white;
But knowing not the way by day
I go in dreams by night.


805
















,R FAIS-


BY WILLIAM R.

THE world is full of Fairies,
As all the children know;
They patter in the raindrops;
They float on flakes of


The\ bl.:,v the fickle bubbles
Tlhat in y.:'ur goblet gleam;
1 Icy paiint the lovely fancies
T hat be. iitify your dream;


THAYER.









I '


Th!L-v l:'in the cobweb curtains
Acr.: tI'he summer grass,
And fill the
t i THEYY FILL THE THIRSTY
N' .'.,' thirsty .FLOWR-CUPS."
:- i ^flower-cups
With dewdrops as they pass.


By day you cannot see them,
But only what they do,
Because they wear a magic
cloak
That hides them from your
view.


"THEY PAINT THE LOVELY FANCIES THAT BEAUTIFY YOUR DREAM."


w:


A;;"










I' I


, 'l ;'





"THE FAIRIES' OWN COURT-PAIR


Romantic little Fairies
Will sit the whole night through,
And watch the moonbeams glisten
Upon a drop of dew.

At midnight in the forest,
NTER." Beneath the quiet moon,
They gather round the Fairy Queen
And sing a merry tune;


"THEY SPIN THE COBWEB CURTAINS
ACROSS THE SUMMER GRASS."


And all. the bluebells tinkle,
And all the harebells chime,
And columbines and violets
They nod and sway in time,-


THE FAIRIES' FROLICS.

In winter, when the
flowers
And foliage are
lost,
The Fairies' own
court-painter -
They 've chris-
tened him Jack
Frost -

Then brings his crystal brushes,
And on the window-pane
He draws the ferns and mosses
And leafy trees again.


ROMANTIC LITTLE FAIRIES."


A'"





THE FAIRIES' FROLICS.


Oh, I often pause to listen
For the song the Fairies sing;
And I wish that I could see them
A-dancing in a ring!


~-4 -
--St


MASTER SKYLARK.

By JOHN BENNETT.


[Begun in the November number. I

CHAPTER XXX.

AT THE FALCON INN.
And then there came both mist and snow,
And it grew wondrous cold;
And ice mast-high came floating by,
As green as emerald.

So says that wonder-ballad of the sea.
But over London came a gale that made the
chimneys rock; and after it came ice and snow,
sharp, stinging sleet, and thumping hail, with
sickening winds from the gray west, sour yellow
fogs, and plunging rain, till all the world was
weary of the winter and the cold.


But winter could not last forever. March
crept onward, and the streets of London came
up out of the slush again with a glad surprise
of cobblestones. The sickly mist no longer
hung along the river; and sometimes upon a
breezy afternoon it was pleasant and fair, the
sun shone warmly on one's back, and the rusty
sky grew bluer overhead. The trees in Paris
Garden put out buds; the lilac-tips began to
swell; there was a stirring in the roadside grass,
and now and then a questing bird went by
upon the wind, piping a little silver thread of
song. Nick's heart grew hungry for the woods
of Arden, and the gathering rush of the waking
water-brooks among the old dead leaves.
The rain beat in at his window; but he did


808


[AUG.






MASTER SKYLARK.


not care for that, and kept it open day and
night; for when he wakened in the dark he
loved to feel.the fingers of the wind across his
face.
Sometimes the moonlight-through the ragged
clouds came in upon the floor, and in the hurry
of the wind he almost fancied he could hear the
Avon, bank-full, rushing under the old mill
bridge.
Then one day there came a shower.with a
warm south wind, sweet and healthful and se-
rene; and through the shower, out of the break-
ing clouds, a sun-gleam like a path of gold
straight down to the heart of London town;
and on the south wind, down that path of gold,
came April.
That night the wind in the chimney fluted
a glad, new tune; and when Nick looked out
at his casement the free stars danced before him
in the sky. And when he felt that fluting wind
blow warm and cool together on his cheek, the
chimneys seemed to mock him, and the town
was hideous.

It fell upon an April night, when the moon
was at its full, that Master Carew had come to
the Falcon Inn, on the Southwark side of the
river, and had brought Nick with him for the
air. Master Heywood was along, and it was
very pleasant there.
The night breeze smelled of green fields, and
the inn was thronged with company. The
windows were bright, and the air was full of
voices. Tables had been brought out into the
garden, and set beneath the arbor toward the
riverside. The vines upon the arbor were
shooting forth their first pink-velvet leaves, and
in the moonlight their shadows fell like lace-
work across the linen cloths, blurred by the
glow of the lanterns hung upon the posts.
The folds in the linen marked the table-tops
with squares like a checker-board, and Nick
stood watching from the tap-room door, as if it
were a game. Not that he cared for any game;
but that watching dulled the teeth of the hun-
ger in his heart to be out of the town and back
among the hills of Warwickshire, now that the
spring was there.
"What there! a pot of sack! cried one
gay fellow with a silver-bordered cloak. "A
VOL. XXIV.- 102.


pot of sack ? cried out another with a feather
like a rose-bush in his cap; two pots ye mean,
my buck Oddsfish my skin! bawled out
a third -" oddsfish my skin Two pots of beg-
garly sack on a Saturday night and a moon
like this ? Three pots, say I and make it
malmsey, at my cost! What there, knave!
the table full of pots I '11 pay the score."
. At that they all began to laugh and to slap
each other on the back, and to pound with
their fists upon the board until the pewter tan-
kards hopped; and when the tapster's knave
came back they were singing at the top of their
lungs, for the spring had gotten into their wits,
and they were beside themselves with merri-
ment.
Master Tom Heywood had a little table to
himself off in a corner, and was writing busily
upon a new play. "A sheet a day," said he,
" doth a wonder in a year"; so he was al-
ways at it.
Gaston Carew sat beyond, dicing with a silky
rogue who had the coldest, hardest face that
Nick had ever seen. His eyes were black and
beady as a rat's, and were circled about by a
myriad of little crow-foot lines; and his hooked
nose lay across his thin blue lips like a finger
across a slit in a dried pie. His long, slim
hands were white as any woman's; and his fin-
gers slipped among the laces at his cuffs like a
weasel in a tangle-patch.
They had been playing for an hour, and the
game had gone beyond all reason. The other
players had put aside the dice to watch the
two, and the nook in which their table stood
was ringed with curious faces. A lantern had
been hung above, but Carew had. commanded
it taken down, as its bottom made a shadow
on the board. Carew's face was red and white
by turns; but the face of the other had no
more color than candle-wax.
At the end of the arbor some one was strum-
ming upon a gitter. It was strung in a different
key from that in which the men were singing,
and the jangle made Nick feel all puckered up
inside. By and by the playing ceased, and the
singers came to the end of their song. In the
brief hush the sharp rattle of the dice sounded
like thepatter of cold hail against the shutter
in the lull of a winter storm.


809





MASTER SKYLARK.


Then there came a great shouting outside,
and, looking through the arbor, Nick saw two
couriers on galloway nags come galloping over
the bowling-green to the arbor-side, calling for
ale. They drank it in their saddles, while their
panting horses sniffed at the fresh young grass.
Then they galloped on. Through the vines, as
he looked after them, Nick could see the towers
of London glittering strangely in the moonlight.
It was nearly high tide, and up from the river
came a sound of women's voices and laughter,
with the pulse-like throb of oars and the hoarse
calling of the watermen.
In the great room of the inn behind him the
gallants were taking their snuff in little silver
ladles, and talking of princesses they had met,
and of whose coach they had ridden home in
last from tennis at my lord's. Some were eat-
ing, some were drinking, and some were puffing
at long clay pipes, while others, by twos, locked
arm in arm, went swaggering up and down the
room, with a huge talking of foreign lands which
they\ had never so much as seen.
"A murrain on the luck!" cried Carew sud-
denly. Can I throw nothing but threes and
fours ? "
A muffled stir ran round. Nick turned from
the glare of the open door, and looked out into
the moonlight. It seemed quite dark at first.
The master-player's face was bitter white, and
his fingers were tapping a queer staccato upon
the table-top.
"A plague on the bedlam dice!" said he.
"I think they are bewitched."
Huff, ruff, and snuff!" the other replied.
"Don't get the mubble-fubbles, Carew; there 's
naught the matter with the dice."
.A man came down from the tap-room door.
Nick stepped aside to let him pass. He was a
player, by his air.
He wore a riding-cloak of Holland cloth,
neither so good nor so bad as a riding-cloak
might be, but under it a handsome jerkin over-
laid with lace, and belted with a buff girdle in
which was a light Spanish rapier. His boots
were russet cordovan, mid-thigh tall, and the
rowels of his clinking spurs were silver stars.
He was large of frame, and his curly hair was
short and brown; so was his pointed beard.
His eyes were singularly bright and fearless,


and bluff self-satisfaction marked his stride; but
his under lip was petulant, and he flicked his
boot with his riding-whip as he shouldered his
way along.
"Ye cannot miss the place, sir," called the
tapster after him. "'T is just beyond Ned Al-
leyn's, by the ditch. Ye '11 never mistake the
ditch, sir- Billingsgate is roses to it! "
Oh, I '11 find it fast enough," the stranger
answered; "but he should have sent to meet
me, knowing I might come at any hour. 'T is a
felon place for thieves; and I 've not the heart
to skewer a goose on such a night as this."
At the sudden breaking of voices upon the
silence, Carew looked up, with a quarrel ripe for
picking in his eye. But seeing who spoke,
such a smile came rippling from the corners of
his mouth across his dark, unhappy face that it
was as if a lamp of welcome had been lighted
there. "What, Ben! he cried; "thou here ?
Why, bless thine heart, old gossip, 't is good to
see an honest face amid this pack of rogues "
There was a surly muttering in the crowd.
Carew threw his head back haughtily and set
his knuckles to his hip. A pack of rogues, I
say," he repeated, sharply; "and a fig for the
whole pack! There was a certain wildness in
his eyes. No one stirred or made reply.
Good! Gaston," laughed the stranger, with
a shrug; picking thy company still, I see, for
quantity, and not for quality. No, thank 'e;
none of the tap for me. My Lord Hunsdon
was made chamberlain in his father's stead
to-day, and I 'm off hot-foot with the news to
Will's."
He gathered his cloak about him, and was
gone.
Ye 've lost," said the man who was dicing
with Carew.
Nick stepped down from the tap-room door.
His ears were tingling with the sound: I 'm
off hot-foot with the news to Will's."
Hot-foot with the news to Will's ? "
To Will's ? "Will" who ?
The man was a player, by his air.
Nick hurriedly looked around. Carew's wild
eyes were frozen upon the dice. The bandy-
legged man was drinking at a table near the
door. The crimson ribbon in his ear looked
like a spot of blood.


81o






MASTER SKYLARK.


He saw Nick looking at him, and made a
horrible face. He would have sworn likewise,
but there was half a quart of ale in his can; so
he turned it up and drank instead. It was a
long, long drink, and half his face was buried in
the pot.
When he put it down the boy was gone.

CHAPTER XXXI.
IN THE TWINKLING OF AN EYE.

IN a garden near the old bear-yard, among
tall rose-trees which would soon be in bloom,
a merry company of men were sitting around
a table which stood in the angle of a quick-
set hedge beside a path graveled with white
stones and bordered with mussel-shells.
There was a house hard by with creamy-
white walls, green-shuttered windows, and a
red-tiled roof. The door of the house was
open, showing a little ruddy fire upon a great
hearth, kindled to drive away the damp; and
in the windows facing the garden there were
lights shining warmly out among the rose-trees.
The table was spread with a red damask
cloth, on which were a tray of raisins and nuts
and a small rally of silver cups. Above the
table an apple-tree nodded its new leaves, and
from an overhanging bough a lantern hung
glowing like a great yellow bee.
There was a young fellow with a white apron
and a jolly little whisper of a whistle on his
puckered lips going around with a plate of
cakes and a tray of honey-bowls ; and the men
were eating and drinking and chatting together
so gaily, and seemed to be all such good friends,
that it was a pleasant thing just to see them sit-
ting there in their comfortable leather-bottomed
chairs, taking life easily because the spring had
come again.
One tall fellow was- smoking a pipe. He
held the bowl in one hand, and kept tamping
down the loose tobacco with his forefinger.
Now and again he would be so eagerly talking
he would forget that his finger was in the bowl,
and it would be burned. He would take it out
with a look of quaint surprise, whereat the rest
all roared. Another was a fat, round man who
chuckled constantly to himself, as if this life
were all a joke; and there was a quite se-


vere, important-seeming, oldish man who said,
" Hem-hem! from time to time, as if about
to speak forthwith, yet never spoke a word.
There was also among the rest a raw-boned,
lanky fellow who had bitten the heart out
of an oat-cake and held the rim of it in his
fingers like a new moon, waving it around
while he talked, until the little man beside
him popped it deftly out of his grasp and ate it
before the other saw where it was gone. But
when he made out what was become of that
oat-cake he rose up solemnly, took the little
man by the collar as a huntsman takes a pup,
and laid him softly in the grass without a word.
What a laughing and going-on.was then! It
was as if they all were growing young again.
And in the middle of the row a head popped
over the quick-set hedge, and a most stentorian
voice called out, "Here, here! Go slow I
want a piece of that!"
They all looked up, and, the moment they
spied that laughing face and cloak of Holland
cloth, raised a shout of "What there! Well
met! Come in, Ben. Where hast thou tarried
so long ? and the like; while the waiter ran
to open the gate and let the stranger in.
A quiet man, with a little chestnut-colored
beard and hazel eyes which lit up quickly at
sight of the stranger over the hedge, arose
from his place by the table and went down
the path with hands outstretched to greet him.
Welcome, welcome, hurly-burly Ben," said
he. We 've missed thee from the feast. Art
well? And what 's the good word ? "
"Ah, Will, thou gentle rogue!" the other
cried, catching the hands of the quiet man and
holding him off while he looked at him there.
How thou stealest one's heart with the glance
of thine eye I was going to give thee a piece
of my mind; but a plague, old heart, who
could chide thee to thy face ? Am I well?
Ay, exceedingly well. And the news ? Jove!
the best that was baked at the Queen's to-day,
and straight from the oven-door The thing is
done -huff, puff, and away we go! But come
on this needs telling to the rest."
They came up the path together, the big man
crunching the mussel-shells beneath his sturdy
tread, and so into the circle of yellow light that
came down from the lantern among the apple-


811






MASTER SKYLARK.


leaves, the big man with his arm around the
quiet man's shoulders, holding his hand; for the
quiet man was not so large as the other, al-
though withal no little man himself, and very
well built and straight.
His tabard was black, without sleeves, and
his doublet was scarlet silk. His collar and
wrist-bands were white Holland linen turned
loosely back, and his face was frank and fair
and free. He was not old, but his hair was
thin upon his brow. His nose and his full, high
forehead were as cleanly cut as a finely chiseled
stone; and his sensitive mouth had a curve
that was tender and sad, though he smiled all
the while, a glimpse of his white teeth show-
ing through, and his little mustache twitching
with the ripple of his long upper lip. His flow-
ing hair was chestnut-colored, like his beard,
and curly at the ends; and his melancholy
eyelids told of study and of thought; but
under them the kindly eyes were bright with
pleasant fancy.
What there, all of you! said he; "a good
investment for your ears "
Out with it, Will! they cried, and whirled
around.
"The Queen hath made Lord Hunsdon
chamberlain," the big man said.
An instant's hush fell on the garden. No
one spoke; but they caught each other by the
hand, and, suddenly, the silence there seemed
somehow louder than a shout.
"We '11 build the new Globe play-house,
lads, and sweep the Bankside clean from end
to end!" a sturdy voice broke sharply on the
hush. And then they cheered--a cheer so
loud that people on the river stopped their
boats, and came ashore asking where the fire
was. And over all the cheering rose the big
man's voice; for the quiet man was silent, and
the big man cheered for two.
"Pull up thy rose-bushes, Will," cried one,
"and set out laurels in their stead -thou 'lt
need them all for crowns."
"Ay, Will, our savor is not gone Queen
Bess knows salt!"
With Will and Ben for meat and crust, and
the rest of us for seasoning, the court shall say
it never ate such master pie "
"We 'll make the walls of Whitehall ring


come New Year next, or Twelfth Night and
Shrove Tuesday."
"Ay, that we will, old gossip! Here 's to
thee !"
Here 's to the company, all of us! "
"And a health to the new Lord Chamber-
lain !"
"God save the Queen!"
With that, they shook each other's hands,
as merry as men could be, and laughed, be-
cause their hearts ran short of words; for these
were young Lord Hunsdon's men, late players
to the Queen in the old Lord Chamberlain's
troupe; who, for a while deprived of favor by
his death, were now, by this succession of his
son, restored to prestige at the court, and such
preferment as none beside them ever won, not
even the Earl of Pembroke's company.
There was Kemp, the stout tragedian; gray
John Lowin, the walking-man; Diccon Bur-
bage, and Cuthbert his brother, master-players
and managers; Robin Armin, the humorsome
jester; droll Dick Tarlton, the king of fools.
There was Blount, and Pope, and Hemynge,
and Thomas Greene, and Joey Taylor, the act-
ing-boy, deep in the heart of a honey-bowl, yet
who one day was to play the part of Hamlet"
as no man ever has played it since. And there
were others, whose names and doings have
vanished with them; and beside these- "What,
merry hearts! the big man cried, and clapped
Shis neighbor on the back; we '11 have a supper
at the Mermaid Inn. We '11 feast on reason,
reason on the feast, toast the company with
wit, and company the wit with toast-why,
pshaw, we are good fellows all! He laughed,
and they laughed with him. That was "rare
Ben Jonson's" way.
"There 's some one knocking, master," said
the boy.
A quick tap-tapping rattled on the wicket-gate.
"Who is it? asked the quiet man.
"'T is Edmund with the news," cried one.
"I 've dished him," said Ben Jonson.
"'T is Condell come to raise our wages,"
said Robin Armin, with a grin.
"Thou 'It raise more hopes than wages,
Rob," said Tarlton mockingly.
It is a boy," the waiter said, who saith
that he must see thee, master, on his life."






MASTER SKYLARK.


The quiet man arose.
Sit down, Will," said Greene; "he 'll pick
thy pocket with a doleful lie."
"There 's nothing in it, Tom, to pick."
"Then give him no more than half," said
Armin soberly; "lest he squander it!"
He saith he comes from Stratford town,"
the boy went on.
"Then tell him to go back again," said
Master Ben Jonson; "we 've sucked the sweet
from Stratford town-be off with his seedy
dregs!"
Go bring him in," said the quiet man.
"Nay, Will, don't have him in. This makes
the third within the month wilt father all the
strays from Stratford town ? Here, Ned, give
him this shilling, and tell him to be off to his
cony-burrow as fast as his legs can trot."
"We '11 see him first," said the quiet man,
stopping the other's shilling with his hand.
Oh, Willy-nilly! the big man cried; wilt
be a kite to float all the draggle-tails that
flutter down from Warwickshire? "
"Why, Ben," replied the quiet man, 't is
not the kite that floats the tail, but the wind
which floats both kite and tail. Thank God,
we 've caught the rising wind; and so, hey
for draggle-tails!- we '11 take up all we can."
The waiter was coming up the path, and by
his side, a little back, bareheaded and flushed
with running, came Nicholas Attwood. He
had followed the big man through the fields
from the gates of the Falcon Inn.
He stopped at the edge of the lantern's glow
and looked around uncertain, for the light was
in his eyes.
Come, boy, what is it?" asked Ben
Jonson.
Nick peered through the brightness. "Mas-
ter Will Shakspere! he gasped.
"Well, my lad," said the quiet man; "what
will you have of me ? "
Nick Attwood had come to his fellow-
townsman at last.

Over the hedge where the lantern shone
through the green of the apple-leaves came a
sound of voices talking fast, a listening hush,
then a clapping of hands, with mingled cries
of Good boy! Right, lad; do not leave her


till thou must and at the last, "What! take
thee home to thy mother, lad? Ay, marry,
that will I!" And the last was the voice of
the quiet man.
Then followed laughter and scraps of song,
merry talking, and good cheer, for they all
made glad together.

Across the fields beyond the hedge the path-
way ran through Paris Garden, stark and clear
in the white moonshine, save here and there
where the fog from the marsh crept down
'to meet the river-mist, and blotted out the
landscape as it went. To the north lay Lon-
don, stirring like a troubled sea. In the south
was drowsy silence, save for the crowing of the
cocks, and now and then the baying of a hound
far off. The smell of bears was on the air;
the river-wind breathed kennels. The Swan
play-house stood up, a great, blue blank against
the sky. The sound of voices was remote.
The river made a constant murmur in the
murk beyond the landing-place; the trees
moved softly.
Low in the west, the lights of the Falcon Inn
were shrunk to pip-pricks in the dark. They
seemed to wink and to shut their eyes. It was
too far to see the people passing by.
On a sudden one light winked and did not
open any more; and through the night a faint,
far cry came drifting down the river-wind-
a long, thin cry, like the wavering screech of
an owl-a shrill, high, ugly sound; the lights
began to wink, wink, wink, to dance, to shift,
to gather into one red star. Out of the darkness
came a wisp of something moving in the path.
Where the moonlight lay it scudded like the
shadow of a windy cloud, now lost to sight,
now seen again. Out of the shadow came a
man, with hands outstretched and cap awry,
running as if he were mad. As he ran he
looked from side to side, and turned his head
for the keener ear; he was panting hard.
When he reached the ditch he paused in
fault, ran on a step or two; went back, stood
hesitating there, clenching his hands in the
empty wind, listening; for the mist was grown
so thick that he could scarcely see.
But as he stood there doubtfully, uncertain
of the way, catching the wind in his nervous


8I3






MASTER SKYLARK.


hands, and' turning about in a little space like
an animal in a cage, over the hedge through
the apple-boughs a boy's clear voice rose sud-
denly, singing a rollicking tune, with a snap-
ping of fingers and tapping of feet in time to
its merry lilt.
Then the man in the mist, when he heard
that clear, high voice, turned swiftly to it, crying
out, "The Skylark! Zooks! It is the place!"
and ran through the fog to where the lantern
glimmered through the hedge. The light fell
in a yellow stream across his face. He was
pale as a ghost. "What there, within! What
there! he panted. Shakspere! Jonson!
Any one!"
The song stopped short.
"Who 's there ? called the voice of the
quiet man.
"'T is I, Tom Heywood. There 's to-do
for players at the Falcon Inn. Gaston Carew
hath stabbed Fulk Sandells, for cheating at the
dice, as dead as a door-nail, and hath been
taken by the watch !"

CHAPTER XXXII.
THE LAST OF GASTON CAREW.
IT was Monday morning, and a beautiful
day.
Master Will Shakspere was reading a new
play to Masters Ben Jonson and Diccon Bur-
bage at the Mermaid Inn.
Thomas Pope, the player, and Peter Hem-
ynge, the manager, were there with them at
the table under the little window. The play
was a comedy of a wicked money-lender named
Shylock; but it was a comedy that made Nick
shudder as he sat on the bench by the door
and listened to it through happy thoughts of
going home.
Sunday had passed like a wondrous dream.
He was free. Master Carew was done for.
On Saturday morning Master Will Shakspere
would set out on the journey to Stratford town,
for his regular suinmer visit there; and Nick
was going with him going to Stratford go-
ing home!
The comedy-reading went on. Master Bur-
bage, his moving face alive, leaned forward on
his elbows, nodding now and then, and saying,


"Fine, fine! under his breath. Master Pope
was making faces suited to the words, not
knowing that he did so. Nick watched him,
fascinated.
A man came hurrying down Cheapside, and
peered in at the open door. It was Master
Dick Jones of the Admiral's Company. He
looked worried and as if he had not slept.
His hair was uncombed, and the skin under
his eyes hung in little bags. He squinted so
that he might see from the broad daylight out-
side into the darker room.
Gaston Carew wants to see thee, Skylark,"
said he quickly, seeing Nick beside the door.
Nick drew back. It seemed as if the mas-
ter-player must be lying in wait outside to catch
him if he stirred abroad.
He says that he must see thee without
fail, and that straightway. He is in Newgate
prison. Wilt come?"
Nick shook his head.
"But he says indeed he must see thee.
Come, Skylark, I will bring thee back. I am
no kidnapper. Why, it is the last thing he will
ever ask of thee. 'T is hard to refuse so small
a favor to a doomed man."
"Thou 'lt surely fetch me back ?"
"Here, Master Will Shakspere," called the
Admiral's player; I am to fetch the boy to
Carew in Newgate on an urgent matter. My
name is Jones Dick Jones, of Henslowe's
Company. Burbage knows me. I '11 bring him
back."
Master Shakspere nodded, reading on; and
Burbage waved his hand, impatient of inter-
ruption. Nick arose and went with Jones.
As they came up Newgate street to the cross-
ing of Giltspur and the Old Bailey, the black
arch of the ancient gate loomed grimly against
the sky, its squinting window-slits peering down
like the eyes of an old ogre. The bell of St.
Sepulchre's was tolling, and there was a crowd
about the door, which opened, letting out a
black cart in which was a priest praying and
a man in irons going to be hanged on Tyburn
Hill. His sweating face was ashen gray; and
when the cart came to the church door they
gave him mockingly a great bunch of fresh,
bright flowers. Nick could not bear to watch.
The turnkey at the prison gate was a crop-





MASTER SKYLARK.


headed fellow with jowls like a bull-dog, and the door was opened, and railed at the darkness
no more mercy in his face than a chopping- when it closed. Cesare el Moro, Cesare el
block. Gaston Carew, the player ? he Moro," he was saying over and over again to
growled. Ye can't come in without a permit himself, as if he feared that he might forget his
from the warden." own name.
We must," said Jones. Carew was in the middle cell, ironed hand
Must ? said the turnkey. I am the only and foot. He had torn his sleeves and tucked
one who says must' in Newgate! and the lace under the rough edges of the metal to
slammed the door in their faces, keep them from chafing the skin. He sat on
The player clinked a shilling on the bar. a pile of dirty straw, with his face in his
"It was a boy he said would folded arms upon his knees. By his side
come," growled the turnkey was a broken biscuit and an empty
through the wicket, pocketing stone jug. He had his fingers in
the shilling; "so just the his ears to shut out the tolling of
boy goes up. A shil- the knell for the man
ling's worth, ye mind, who had gone to be
and not another wink." hanged.
He drew Nick in, and / The turnkey shook
dropped the bars be- n the bars. "Here,
hind him. wake up!" he said.
It was a foul, dark Carew looked up.
place, and full of evil / His eyes were swollen,
smells. Drops of wa- and his face was
ter stood on the cold covered with a
stone walls, and a two-days' beard.
green mold crept He had slept in
along the floor. his clothes, and
The air was heavy they were full
and dank, and it of broken straw
began to be hard and creases. But
for Nick to his haggard face
breathe. .-- lit up when he
Up with thee," saw the boy, and
said the turnkey he came to the
gruffly, unlocking grating with an
the door to the eager exclama-
stairs. tion: And thou
The common '/ hast truly come ?
room above was To the man thou
packed with mis- dost hate so bit-
erable wretches. terly, but will not
The strongest kept hate any more.
the window-ledges "'YE CAN'T COME IN WITHOUT A PERMIT FROM THE WARDEN, Come, Nick, thou
near light and air THE TURNKEY GROWLED." wilt not hate me
by sheer main force, and were dicing on the dirty any more. 'T will not be worth thy while,
sill. The turnlkey pushed and banged his way Nick; the night is coming fast."
through them, Nick clinging desperately to his Why, sir," said Nick, "it is not so dark out-
jerkin. side- 't is scarcely noon; and thou wilt soon
In a cell at the end of the corridor there was be out."
a Spanish renegade who railed at the light when "Out ? Ay, on Tyburn Hill," said the master-






MASTER SKYLARK.


player quietly. I 've spent my whole life for
a bit of hempen cord. I 've taken my last cue.
Last night, at twelve o'clock, I heard the bellman
under the prison walls call my name with those
of the already condemned. The play is nearly
out, Nick, and the people will be going home.
It has been a wild play, Nick, and ill played."
Here, if ye 've anything to say, be saying
it," said the turnkey. "'T is a shilling's-worth,
ye mind."
Carew lifted up his head in the old haughty
way, and clapped his shackled hand to his hip
- they had taken his poniard when he came
into the prison. A queer look came over his
face; taking his hand away, he wiped it hur-
riedly upon his jerkin. There were dark stains
upon the silk.
Ye sent for me, sir," said Nick.
Carew passed his hand across his brow.
"Yes, yes, I sent for thee. I have something
to tell thee, Nick." He hesitated, and looked
through the bars at the boy, as if to read his
thoughts. "Thou 'It be good and true to
Cicely thou 'It deal fairly with my girl?
Why, surely, yes." He paused again, as if ir-
resolute. "I '11 trust thee, Nick. We 've taken
money, thou and I; good gold and silver -
tsst! what's that?" He stopped suddenly.
Nick heard no sound but the Spaniard's
exclamations.
"'T is my fancy," Carew said. "Well, then,
we've taken much good money, Nick; and I
have not squandered all of it. Hark 'e-
thou knowest the old oak wainscot in the din-
ing-hall, and the carven panel by the Spanish
chest? Good, then! Upon the panel isa cher-
ubin, and tsst! what 's that, I say ? "
There was a stealthy rustling in the right-
hand cell. The fellow in it had his ear pressed
close against the bars. He is listening," said
Nick.
The fellow muttered and shook his fist, and
then, when Master Carew dropped his voice
and would have gone on whispering, set up so
loud a howling and clanking of his chains that
the lad could not make out one word the mas-
ter-player said.
Peace, thou dog! cried Carew, and kicked
the grating.
But the fellow only yelled the louder.


Carew looked sorely troubled. I dare not
let him hear," said he. The very walls of
Newgate leak."
"Yah, yah, yah, thou gallows-bird! "
"Yet I must tell thee, Nick."
Yah, yah, dangle-rope !"
"Stay! would Will Shakspere come? Why,
here, I '11 send him word. He '11 come -Will
Shakspere never bore a grudge; and I shall
so soon go where are no grudges, envy, storms,
or noise, but silence and the soft lap of ever-
lasting sleep. He 'll come- Nick, bid him
come, upon his life, to the Old Bailey when I
am taken up."
Nick nodded. It was strange to have his
master beg.
Carew was looking up at a thin streak of
light that came in through the narrow window
at the stair. Nick," said he huskily, "last
night I dreamed I heard thee singing; but
't was where there was a sweet, green field and
a stream flowing through a little wood. Me-
thought 't was on the road past Warwick toward
Coventry. Thou 'It go there some day and
remember Gaston Carew, wilt not, lad ? And,
Nick, for thine own mother's sake, do not alto-
gether hate him; he was not so bad a man as
he might easily have been."
Come," growled the turnkey, who was pac-
ing up and down like a surly bear; "have
done. 'T is a fat shilling's worth."
"'T was there I first heard thee sing, Nick,"
said Carew, holding to the boy's hands through
the bars. I '11 never hear thee sing again -
I '11 never hear thee sing again."
"Why, sir, I '11 sing for thee now," said
Nick, choking.
The turnkey was coming back when Nick
began suddenly to sing. He looked up, star-
ing. Such a thing dumfounded him. He had
never heard a song like that in Newgate.
There were rules in prison. Here, here," he
cried, be still! But Nick sang on.
The groaning, quarreling, and cursing were
silent all at once. The guard outside, who had
been sharpening his pike upon the window-
ledge, stopped the shrieking sound. Silence
like a restful sleep fell upon the weary place.
Through dark corridors and down the mil-
dewed stairs the quaint old song went floating


816






MASTER SKYLARK.


as a childhood memory into an old ma
dream; and to Gaston Carew's ear it seemed
if the melody of earth had all been gathered
that little song all but the sound of the vo
of his daughter Cicely.
It ceased, and yet a gentle murmur seen
to steal through the moldy walls, of birds a
flowers, sunlight, and the open air, of once-lox
mothers, and of long-forgotten
homes. The renegade had
ceased his cursing, and was
whispering a fragment of a
Spanish prayer he had not
heard for many a day.
Carew muttered to himself. '
"And now old cares are locked iL
in charmed sleep, and new
griefs lose their bitterness, to
hear thee sing to hear thee
sing. God bless thee, Nick!"
"'T is three good shillings'
worth o' time," the turnkey
growled, and fumbled with the
keys. "All for one shilling, too,"
said he, and kicked the door- '
post sulkily. But a plague, I
say; a plague! 'T is no one's # ;
business but mine. I 've a good i
two shillings' worth in my ears.
'T is thirty year since I ha'
heard the like o' that. But
what's a gaol for ? -man's de-
light? Nay, nay. Here, boy,
time's up Come out o' that."
But he spoke so low that he
scarcely heard himself; and go-
ing to the end of the corridor,
he marked upon the wall.
"Oh, Nick, I love thee,"
said the master-player, holding
the boy's hands with a bitter
grip. Dost thou not love
me just a little? Come, lad, ,,,,
say that thou lovest me."
"Nay, Master Carew," Nick answered
berly, I do na love thee, and I will na sa
do, sir; but I pity thee with all my heart. A
sir, if thy being out would keep me sto]
still I think I 'd wish thee out -for Cic
But, Master Carew, do na break my hands.'
VOL. XXIV.- 103.


The master-player loosed his grasp. I will
not seek to be excused to thee," he said, husk-
ily. "I 've prisoned thee as that clod prisons
me; but, Nick, the play is almost out, down
comes the curtain on my heels, and thy just
blame will find no mark. Yet, Nick, now
that I am fast and thou art free, it makes
my heart ache to feel that 't was not I who


-- -_5r--- -. .._ _



-- --
-' -V

rt- ~

'HY, SIR, I 'LL SING FOR THEE NOW,' SAID NICK, CHOKING."

so- set thee free. Thou canst go when pleaseth
y I thee, and thank me nothing for it. And, Nick,
nd, as my sins be forgiven me, I truly meant to
len, set thee free, and send thee home. I did,
ely. upon my word ard on the remnant of mine
honour!"


817





MASTER SKYLARK.


"Time 's good and up, sirs," said the turn-
key, coming back.
Carew thrust his hand into his breast.
"I must be going, sir," said Nick.
"Ay, so thou must all things must go.
Oh, Nick, be friendly with me now, if thou
wert never friend before. Kiss me, lad. There
-now thy hand." The master-player clasped
it closely in his own, and pressing something
into the palm, shut down the fingers over it.
" Quick! Keep it hid," he whispered. "'T is
the chain I had from Stratford's burgesses, to
some good usage come at last."
Must I come and fetch thee out ? growled
the turnkey.
I be coming, sir."
"Thou 'It send Will Shakspere? And, oh,
Nick," cried Carew, holding him yet a little
longer, "thou 'It keep my Cicely from harm? "
"I '11 do my best," said Nick, his own eyes full.
The turnkey raised his heavy bunch of keys.
" I '11 ding thee out o' this," said he.
And the last Nick Attwood saw of Gaston
Carew was his wistful eyes hunting down the
stairway after him, and his hand, with its torn
fine laces, waving at him through the bars.
And when he came to the Mermaid Inn
Master Shakspere's comedy was done, and
Master Ben Jonson was telling a merry tale
that made the tapster sick with laughing.

CHAPTER XXXIII.
CICELY DISAPPEARS.
WHEN Master Shakspere's house was still,
and all had said good-by, Nick doffed his
clothes and laid him down to sleep in peace.
Yet he often wakened in the night, because his
heart was dancing so.
In the morning, when the world began to
stir outside, and the early light came in at the
window, he slipped out of bed across the floor,
and threw the casement wide. Over the river,
and over the town, and over the hills that lay
blue in the north, was Stratford !
The damp, cool air from the garden below
seemed a primrose whiff from the lane behind
his father's house. He could hear the cocks
crowing in Surrey, and the lowing of the kine.
There was a robin singing in a bush under the


window, and there was some one in the garden
with a pair of pruning-shears. Snip-snip! snip-
snip! he heard them going. The light in the
east was pink as a peach-bloom and too in-
tense to bear.
"Good-morrow, Master Early-bird "a merry
voice called up to him, and a nosegay dropped
on the window-ledge at his side. He looked
down. There in the path among the rose-trees
was Master Will Shakspere, laughing. He had
on an ancient leather jacket and a hat with a
hole in its crown; and the skirts of the jacket
were dripping with dew from the bushes.
"Good-morrow, sir," said Nick, and bowed.
It is a lovely day."
"Most beautiful indeed! How comes the
sun ? "
Just up, sir; the river is afire with it now.
O-oh! Nick held his breath, and watched the
light creep down the wall, darting long bars
of rosy gold through the snowy bloom of the
apple-trees, until it rested upon Master Shak-
spere's face, and made a fleeting glory there.
Then Master Shakspere stretched himself a lit-
tle in the sun, laughing softly, and said, "It is the
sweetest music in the world morning, spring,
and God's dear sunshine; it starteth kindness
brewing in the heart, like sap in a withered bud.
What sayest, lad ? We '11 fetch the little maid to-
day; and then away for Stratford town "

But when Master Shakspere and Nicholas
Attwood came to Gaston Carew's house, the
constables had taken charge, the servants were
scattering hither and thither, and Cicely Carew
was gone.
The bandy-legged man, the butler said, had
come on Sunday in great haste, and packing
up his goods, without a word of what had be-
fallen his master, had gone away, no one knew
whither, and had taken Cicely with him. Nor
had any of them dared to question what he did,
for indeed they all feared the rogue, and judged
him to have authority.
Nick caught a moment at the lintel of the
door. The house was full of voices, and the
sound of trampling feet went up and down
from room to room; but all Nick heard was
Gaston Carew's worn voice, saying, Thou 'It
keep my Cicely from harm ?"
continued )





































tJI s- -




-" i --- '



A VACATION SCHOOL.


TOM.


BY FRANK H. SWEET.


" WHAT do you think was done for me,
By Tom the bootblack, on the quay ?
Well, sir, you see, my pa and I
Went down to see the yachts go by;
An' I fell in, an' like to drowned,
An' mighl, if Tom had not been 'round.


"Well, Tom, he broke his arm, you see,-
An' all just on account of me,-
So my pa said that he must go
An' live with us,-be folks, you know.
An' Tom, he says it 's jolly prime,
An' he '11 save me 'most any time."











F / -K


By REV. FELIX J. O'NEILL.


YOUNG Tim was as clever as clever could be;
No boy, to his mind, was as skilful as he.
He claimed the first place 'mid the girls and
the boys;
He bragged of his work and his play and
his toys,
Till his playmates grew weary of hearing him
cry
That they were so low and that he was so
high,
That his work was perfect, and theirs was a
botch -
So they gave him the nickname of "Timmy
Top-notch."


For whatever he did,
And whatever he said,
And whatever he had- was best.


His fish were the biggest a boy ever caught;
His fights were the bravest a boy ever fought;
His batting was surest to score a home-run;
His catches no other but he could have done;
His jokes were the funniest cracked in the
town;
His pony the safest for up-hill and down;
His rifle was better; his aim was more true;
He could shoot on the wing as no other
could do;
20






TIMMY TOP-NOTCH.


His skates were the brightest and smoothest
to glide;
His sled was the swiftest that skimmed the
hillside;
His bicycle-wheels were more round than the
rest;
His clothes were cut better and fitted the
best.
For whatever he did,


And whatever he said,
And whatever
he had-
was best.


Timmy shot against Peter and Pete won the prize!
Barney Burs caught a pickerel as big as
Tim's nine -
Tim said that they "coaxed it away" from
his line. *
He went to the bat and he always struck out,
And he wondered what all theboys giggled about.
When John Jones swam farther and stayed
longer down.
Then Timmy got lonesome and cried to go home,


I /


But Tim made a visit
outside, his own
town,
Where the girls and
the boys made
his swagger come
down;
For Bessie Brown beat
him with cycle and
bow,
And Gertie Green gave
him some points
how to row;
Maud Milner outshot
him at birds on
the wing -
'T was a shame to be
beaten by that lit-
tle thing!
He dared Rosie Russell
to skate him on ice;
Before he was half
across, Rosie cross-
ed twice!
Lilly Loon "spelled
him down" at the
schoolspelling-bee;
And Billy Boone taught
him to shin up a
tree.
He wrestled Sam Sum-
mers, and went
down ker-flop! -
Brave Timmy was under


54 A'

.a~~Gr
~- ~'


I



/'



I


and Sam was on top.


Peter Powers had a rifle that charmed Timmy's
eyes:


Where whatever he did,
And whatever he said,
And whatever he had- was best.


821

























. -_ ...







,,.-, i8tlt "*-.- .- "S._._








PLENTY OF TIME.











PRISCILLA'S FAIRY GODMOTHER.
(A fairy story that came true.)

BY GERTRUDE HALLADAY.
I


RISCILLA
walked slowly
"\ .. along the piaz-
21 za, dragging
her feet and
scowling.
: She had
been down on
the beach all the
/' .- afternoon with Ethel
'< ;'i and Margaret, having a
delightful time. It was
not there she had found the
cause for her discontent; indeed,
she had there been able for a time to forget her
trouble. For Priscilla had a trouble, crushing
and inevitable-in three days she must leave
the beach and the river, the bathing and sail-
ing, and all the summer fun, and go back to
Boston. The shock had been great enough
when she had suddenly discovered there were
only two weeks more to stay; but now, when
the last precious days were slipping by so pain-
fully fast, she told herself that no little girl of
eleven ought to be expected to bear it.
How early the sun was setting to-night!
The clouds in the West were all red and gold
already. If it only would n't go down so
soon, and bring supper-time! Priscilla turned
the door-handle slowly, and went in. The door
opened directly into the sitting-room, and there
sat her mama talking to her Fairy Godmother.
Her mama had a little disturbed wrinkle be-
tween her eyes, very much like the one on Pris-
cilla's own forehead; and she was saying:
"Truly, Alice, I don't know what to do with
her. She is perfectly miserable about leaving
the beach, and it really is lonely for her at
home. We have no near neighbors -"
Here she stopped suddenly, for she and the
Fairy Godmother had just seen Priscilla. The


Fairy Godmother was really Priscilla's aunt;
but she had helped her topsy-turvy little niece
out of so many troubles, just as the fairy god-
mothers do for the princesses in the story-books,
that everybody who knew her called her by that
name. That was why she smiled encourag-
ingly when she saw such a very stormy expres-
sion on the rebellious face in the doorway.
She knew she should have to begin to smooth
away this present difficulty in a minute; but
she did n't yet know just how.
The smile was too much for poor Priscilla.
Her troubles rose in a big lump in her throat,
and her words came tumbling out like a little
torrent:
I suppose you think I 'm very childish, and
I dare say I am; but it does seem too cruel
that we have to go away and leave the beach,
and the other children, and everything. It 's
so lonely at home, and I hate to ride in the
horrid steam-cars, and the summer is going
away! Of course I know it is n't your fault,
mama -" and here Priscilla caught her breath,
and swallowed a very large sob.
Poor Mrs. Blake lay back in her chair and
looked distressed; but the Fairy Godmother
sat up straight, with very bright eyes, and
Priscilla crossed over to her and went down
on her knees suddenly, hiding her face in her
aunt's lap. Priscilla was dreadfully ashamed to
be seen crying. Nobody spoke for a moment,
and then a smothered voice went on: They
ought to send people steamer-letters, the same
as on ocean voyages, when they have to sit for
hours and hours in stuffy trains."
Aunt Alice was going to Boston the very
next day to sail for Europe with some friends,
and some one had been writing her a letter in
separate parts, one to be opened each day of
the voyage. Priscilla had been much inter-
ested in the idea, and now she was trying to






PRISCILLA'S FAIRY GODMOTHER.


make a little joke about it, so that she need not
feel so embarrassed when she lifted a very tear-
stained face from the Fairy Godmother's knees.
Aunt Alice had been looking puzzled. She
had had in her mind for some time part of a
plan for helping her lonely little niece; but the
moment she heard the word steamer-letter" a


"PRISCILLA WALKED SLOWLY ALONG THE PIAZZA, DRAGGING
HER FEET AND SCOWLING."
new idea popped into her head. She clapped
her hands, just like a story-book fairy when
she summons her sprites, and lifted up Pris-
cilla's surprised face.
Now," she said gleefully, the Fairy God-
mother is going to come to the rescue of the
unfortunate Princess." Priscilla could n't help
feeling better immediately. Even her mama


looked relieved. That was the way fairy god-
mothers always spoke before they helped prin-
cesses out of their troubles. Now, Princess,"
she went on, "sit down beside me on the rug,
and I '11 explain. You know, of course, in
the books, when princesses are in distress their
godmothers always send them on journeys.
There are orders that must be obeyed very
carefully, and there are always fairy messengers
in unexpected shapes and places; then at the
end they find a fairy prince, or a treasure, which
is much better when they are not grown-up
princesses. Well, Princess,"- and Aunt Alice
laughed mischievously,- I am going to do
that for you; and I promise you, if you obey my
commands, that all these troubles will vanish ";
and then she kissed Priscilla quite gravely, al-
though her eyes were twinkling, and Priscilla
could n't help believing her. She would not
say another word, however; only quite soon
after supper she went away to her room, al-
though her trunks were already packed; and
when her small niece, burning with curiosity,
went in to kiss her good-night, she whisked a
handkerchief over some papers on her table as
mysteriously as if it were Christmas-time.
The next morning, before she drove away, she
presented Priscilla with a most extraordinary
envelope. It was very large and thick, espe-
cially in the middle, where you could feel some-
thing small and hard. It was addressed to:
Her Highness the Princess Priscilla. To be
opened at Kittery Point, September twenty-
third."
Her Highness looked quite frightened.
She knew that Kittery was not many miles
away. She remembered seeing the name on
the station when they had come down from
Boston.
Have I got to go there ? she stammered.
Certainly," answered her Fairy Godmother
teasingly. Does n't it say it must be opened
there ? "
But how can I ? cried Priscilla, helplessly.
"When does it say it must be opened? "
asked her mother quietly; "is n't it day after
to-morrow?"
"Why, that is the day we go home--oh,
of course we go through there on the cars. I
see -and I can open it then. What fun,


i: C1
: i'






PRISCILLA'S FAIRY GODMOTHER.


Aunt Alice! She was whirling on her toes by
this time. "But what shall I do then ? You
won't be here -" Indeed, the depot-carriage
was coming up the driveway at this very mo-
ment. Priscilla suddenly realized that Aunt
Alice was going far away.
"You forget that I have messengers." That
was all the answer there was time to give;, and
then for a few minutes there were good-bys and
waving of hands, the Fairy Godmother disap-
peared from their sight in a cloud of dust, and
the princess was left behind with the mysterious
envelope in her hand.


Margaret, her blue eyes wide'with excitement.
"Suppose you found it directed that you had
to go through a big dark wood all filled with
ogres!"
"Pooh! I should n't care," said Priscilla
loftily. "I shall have to go to Africa--or
anywhere if it says so."
Of course your mama would n't let you go
off to Africa all by yourself," said Ethel scorn-
fully. She was thirteen, and felt rather supe-
rior. But what do you suppose the treasure
will be?" she added.
Priscilla shook her head. "It feels only


( ,


P 1-,
i~tol

AN
N,~ ~h
-+ A


"PRISCILLA TOLD ETHEL AND MARGARET ALL ABOUT IT, AND THEY WERE MUCH INTERESTED."


The enchantment seemed to take effect im-
mediately, for Priscilla could now hardly wait
for the day she had been dreading so much;
and, instead of being unhappy, she dreamed
day and night of strange messengers and won-
derful treasures. She did not take the envelope
to the beach when she went down there to play
with Ethel and Margaret; but she told them
all about it, and they were very much inter-
ested, and played fairy games all the morning
in the sand.
"I should think you would be afraid," said
VOL. XXIV.- 104.


about as big as a bean," she said. I 've felt
and felt, but the paper is so thick I can't make
out the shape of it very plainly."
Well," said Ethel wisely, maybe that is n't
the treasure at all. Maybe that is a wishing-
stone, or something."
Priscilla jumped with excitement. She had
not thought of that possibility. Of course it
is! she cried. Her black eyes looked rounder
than ever, and her words tumbled over each
other in her eagerness. "Of course it must
be that. And I 've almost worn out my brain


~` '''''
`~~' *~

zr





PRISCILLA'S FAIRY GODMOTHER.


trying to think what treasure could be so little.
Oh, I wonder what it will be! "
"A bag filled with gold?" ventured Mar-
garet, doubtfully, after a long pause.
How silly!" said the scornful Ethel. "It
will probably be a gold watch, or a beautiful
ring-"
"Pooh! I don't want a watch, and rings
are no good," interrupted Priscilla, regardless
of Margaret's injured expression. I want a
pony, and a sail-
boat, and a
bicycle, and
a dog, -


"AIR. BLAKE TURNED A SEAT OVER, SO THAT PRISCILLA
COULD SIT OPPOSITE HIM AND HER MAMA."

and a canoe, and-" she stopped, not for want
of ideas, but of breath.
After all, it was of no use to wonder; but Pris-
cilla did wonder and wonder all through that
day and the next. She was delighted when
her papa arrived from Boston, for that meant
they would start the next day; and even when
at last the time came, and all the good-bys had
to be said, she was so excited that she entirely


forgot it was to have been the most heart-
breaking day of her life.
By the time they got into the cars, Priscilla's
cheeks were fiery red, her eyes were big and
black, and her short brown curls seemed to be
standing out straight with excitement.
Mr. Blake turned a seat over, so that she
could sit opposite him and her mama. Will
you be seated, your Royal Highness ?" he
said, with a low bow. "Your mama and I
feel duly honored to be traveling with so ex-
alted a personage."
But Priscilla only laughed. She felt exactly
like a princess, even if she did n't look like
those in her story-books.
Luckily it was not long to wait.
Kittery Point station came in sight at
Ii, last. Priscilla gave one long
look at the big envelope:
Her Highness the Prin-
cess Priscilla. To be opened
at Kittery Point, Sep-
tember twenty-third."
Yes, it was Septem-
ber twenty-third, and
this was Kittery Point.
In went an eager fore-
finger, tearing the top
of the envelope in big
'' .. jagged scallops. Priscilla
held her breath, and pulled
out- another envelope a lit-
/l tie smaller than the first! Her
SLii' royal heart gave a throb of dis-
appointment. She certainly hadn't
expected this. Her mama and papa
were watching her.
"Read what is written on it," said
Mrs. Blake.
Why, it 's only poetry," said Priscilla. She
did n't care very much for poetry.
I thought fairy godmothers always gave
their commands in rhymes," suggested Mr.
Blake.
"Why, of course," cried Priscilla joyfully;
and this is what she read:
Go, Princess, straight to Portsmouth town.
'T is there a big gray cat you '11 see.
Look for her sharply up and down--
She is a messenger from me.


826






PRISCILLA'S FAIRY GODMOTHER.


Until you see her yellow eye,
To open this you must not try.

Priscilla had heard of Portsmouth often; in-
deed, she had sailed over there once during the
summer. But how should she get there now?
Mama," she said, sitting up very straight,
"I have to go to Portsmouth to see my god-
mother's cat. Will you and papa take me
there ? Shall we get off at the next station ?"
Mr. Blake laughed at her excited face.
Certainly, your Royal Highness," he an-
swered, with another bow; "we are entirely at
your disposal; but don't you think the second
or third station will do ? "
Stop! said Mrs. Blake; "you should not
tease her. Portsmouth is the second or third
station beyond here, Priscilla. We change
cars there."
Why, is n't that lucky said the delighted
princess; and she could n't understand why her
"royal" parents laughed.
It was not long before they rolled into the
dingy, covered depot; and, sure enough, out
they all got. Priscilla pulled at her father's
hand, her eyes traveling in every direction.
There was a confusion of trains and people,
baggage-men and express-carts. Where could
they find a cat, in all this bustle?
"Oh, papa! cried the agonized princess,
"where do you suppose she is? Don't you
think we had better go out into the street ? "
Mr. Blake did-not answer, but he led Priscilla
over to the door of the station restaurant. He
had been to Portsmouth a great many times,
and so had Aunt Alice; and so, perhaps, his
little daughter was more surprised than they
would have been to see on one of the window-
sills a huge gray cat fast asleep in the sun.
And when Priscilla, with a little scream of de-
light, ran over to her, she opened her big yellow
eyes, and looked so wise that it seemed as if
she surely must understand. Oh, pussy, I
am obeying my instructions beautifully," whis-
pered the little girl; and then added rather
timidly: Are you really a fairy, pussy ? But
the big cat blinked her eyes like any ordinary
cat, and would not answer a word.
Come, dear," said her father; we must get
into the car now"; and she was led away all


too soon; but, as her papa said, "Trains will
not wait, even for princesses."
As soon as they were once more settled, Pris-
cilla opened the envelope with'the verses out-
side. Out came another envelope, and more
poetry. How exciting it was! Where should
she have to go next? This was what the
rhyme said:

Be patient, Princess; watch and wait.
Another messenger I 'm sending.
There 's far to go and much to do
Before your task can have its ending.
There is a boy in Hampton townm-
I 've told him near the track to hover,
And wave his hat (he may forget),
To tell you when to break this cover.

"I never heard of Hampton town," cried
Priscilla. "How can I go there, papa ?"
Mr. Blake took the packet and read.
"Well," said he teasingly, "these instruc-
tions tell you to watch and wait.' Perhaps
Hampton town will come to you, if you sit
still."
But Mrs. Blake could never bear to see her
small daughter teased, though Priscilla herself
did n't mind it at all. This train goes through
Hampton," she explained; "we shall be there
in a very few moments."
Then a new idea occurred to Priscilla. I
do believe this train will go to all the places,"
cried she, "so that I can get to them faster."
I should n't be surprised," said her father,
with a smile.
Fairy godmothers do arrange things so
beautifully!"-and the princess sighed hap-
pily.
When the train had passed North Hampton
station, and they were really in Hampton
town," even Mrs. Blake and her husband found
themselves looking for the boy." The coun-
try slid along past the windows: sunlit fields
and scattered houses, salt-marshes dotted with-
haystacks, once in a while a man or woman,
but never a boy. It was not until they drew
up at Hampton station that the princess gave
a start of delight and clapped her hands.
Oh, there he is! she cried; and, sure enough,
there he was, a jolly-faced country boy, lean-
ing against the station wall, with his hands in
his pockets.. The car stopped so that Pris-


827





PRISCILLA'S FAIRY GODMOTHER.


cilla's window was almost opposite him; and
though he did n't wave his hat, he looked up
and grinned at her in the most knowing way.
It really was n't surprising, she was nodding
and smiling at him in such a friendly manner;
but it filled Priscilla with the wildest excitement.
"Oh, mama," she cried, may n't I open the
window and ask him if he really knows Aunt
Alice ? "
But Mr. Blake laughed at her suggestion,
and Priscilla sat down, with her face very red.
"Well," said she rather soberly, "of course
I know he does n't; but, somehow, it seems as
if he must."
And then her father begged her Highness's
pardon very humbly, and admitted that the
boy had seemed remarkably friendly. "Only,"
he added mischievously, "it does seem queer for
a fairy messenger to be chewing gum." And
then her highness deigned to smile once more.
Priscilla was not surprised to find another
envelope inside the last one. This one was the
size of an ordinary note, and it said:

Now, Princess, see you listen well!
From this time on, without cessation,
Count all the horses on the road
Until you reach the Ipswich station;
For when you 've done so 't is the token,
That there this cover may be broken.

Priscilla curled herself up close to the win-
dow. No horse on the road that day could
have escaped her sharp eyes. She saw ever so
many,- brown, black, and white ones,- and
all the time she kept wondering which one was
the fairy messenger.
"I never saw the child so still," said Mrs.
Blake softly. "She is usually so restless on a
journey that she wears me out."
But this is an enchanted journey," said her
husband; and it really seemed so to Priscilla.
It seemed hardly any time at all before they
passed Ipswich, and she could look for her
next message:

Well, Princess, there 's a little dog
Somewhere between this place and Lynn.
Your task is done when him you find.
Then look this envelope within,
And lo! you '11 see there at your pleasure
The key which will reveal the treasure.


Priscilla sighed with satisfaction. A key! -
of course it was a key! Now that the larger
envelopes were gone, she could feel the shape
of it distinctly.
While she watched for the dog messenger,
she busied her brain trying to think what sort
of treasure could be locked up with so very
small a key. It was such a puzzling question
that for a long time she did not realize that no
dog was coming in sight. Then suddenly she
heard her mother say: Why, George, we are
almost at Lynn, and I actually have n't seen a
dog. I 've been so interested I have watched
all the way along."
It was certainly strange. What had hap-
pened to all the dogs, big and little, that after-
noon, nobody knows; but in spite of the most
anxious watching, the train steamed presently
into the dark Lynn station, and never a dog
had they spied. It seemed as if even a fairy
godmother's well-laid plans could fail.
Poor Priscilla, who had not lost hope up to
the very last moment, was quivering with dis-
tress and excitement. When the train really
came to a standstill, her papa, almost as disap-
pointed as she, took her out upon the platform,
and they walked along, looking anxiously in
every direction. But it was all of no avail!
When they heard the brakeman shout, "All
aboard! and Mr. Blake lifted his little daugh-
ter into the car again, her heart seemed ready
to break. Then, just at that last instant, they
suddenly heard the sound of a dog barking -
a short, sharp, puppy bark! It seemed to come
from inside the station.
Priscilla nearly tumbled off the car in her ex-
citement. I must go back, papa she cried;
"I must go back! "
But it was impossible; the train was going
too fast already, and never a glimpse of a nose
or a tail could they see, though they could still
hear that sharp, excited barking until they were
really off and away.
Priscilla sat up very straight and still. Her
eyes were suspiciously, bright.
Mr. Blake took the envelope, and read the
fated message over again. It 's my opinion,"
said he very gravely, without looking at the
pathetic little figure opposite, that, for some
reason best known to himself, that fairy messen-






PRISCILLA'S FAIRY GODMOTHER.


ger did n't wish to be seen. Now see here, Prin-
cess," he continued; this does n't say 'when
him you see'; it says, when him youfind.' He
really was there, you know; and since we heard
him, I should think you might be said to have
really found him."
Priscilla looked a little relieved. Do you
truly think so ?" she asked doubtfully. Then
suddenly she clapped her hands. "But," she
cried, if I tried to take out the key when my
task was n't done, it would disappear, or some-
thing, would n't it ?"
"They certainly do in fairy books," said her
father gravely. So Priscilla held her breath,
and opened the last envelope. It was only
when she had unwound some folds of thin pa-
per and held the little key in her hand that she
felt satisfied all must be well.
Now, what did the key unlock ? That was
the next question.
It says something on the tissue-paper," said
her mama; "but don't read it now. Wait until
we are in the electric cars." And then Priscilla
realized all of a sudden that the people in the
train were taking down their bundles from the
racks, and putting on their coats. In a mo-
ment more they would be in the station. Pris-
cilla looked so astonished that her mother
stooped down and kissed her. Fairy jour-
neys are shorter than ordinary ones, are n't
they ? asked Priscilla's mother, with a smile.
All the way out in the street-cars to their
home in the Boston suburbs, Priscilla pondered
over these words:
When you have passed within the door,
Find what you never saw before.


You need not seek it in a box,
But yet in what this key unlocks.
'T is yours; and though it cannot speak,
'T will comfort you from week to week,
And be your friend while I 'm afar.
Your loving
FAIRY GODMAMA.

Do you suppose that means the front door
at home ? asked Priscilla; "and oh what do
you suppose it is ? But the only answer was,
"Wait and see."
Fortunately she did n't have long to wait.
The very instant Mr. Blake's key turned in the
front door, Priscilla heard a queer, scrambling
noise, and into the front hall rushed pell-mell
the finest fox-terrier puppy you ever saw.
Oh! screamed the happy Princess, "it's
my Treasure! How did he get here, the dar-
ling thing ? "
He came by express -" began her mother.
From Fairyland, I presume," finished her
father, smiling down on her.
Priscilla sat down on the floor, and hugged
him ecstatically. Then she tried the fairy key
in his shining new collar. Of course it fitted
exactly, although ,it was hard work putting it
in, he squirmed so. First he licked her face
madly, wagging his short tail; then he began
to bark. Priscilla's eyes fairly popped. "It
is-it is the same bark that we heard in Lynn! "
she cried. "That 's why he would n't come
out to give me the fairy message. He did n't
want me to see him too soon."
And to this day, in spite of everything, Pris-
cilla can't help believing in her secret heart
that this was so.










Vr


IHE DANDELION'S COMPLAINT.


OH dear! Oh dear!
How strange I must appear!
My head is so bare,
That every one will stare
At me now.

Once like a golden star
I shone out from afar;
Then a light fleecy down
Made a lovely crown
On my head.


By ELIZABETH S. H1ICOK.




But this morning- oh dear!
It all seems so queer-
There came a little lass,
And paused upon the grass
By my side.

She wished something, very low,
And then began to blow,
And my soft, silky hair
Went floating through the air
All around.


"I blow them all away
And wish," I heard her say,
But I know I shall take cold,
And it makes me look so old -
Oh, dear!








~-~r~N


r.


,AF~ *-N- e?


A PHILOSOPHER.


A LITTLE lad sat by the sounding sea,
Flat on the damp, damp ground,
And seeing a ship sail over the edge,
He cried, "The world is round.


"I know it must be so, because
I study geography now,
And the book declares that's one of the proofs.
But I 'm sure I don't see how!"
Tudor Jenks.


THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS.

BY WILLIAM HENRY SHELTON.


[This story was begun in the November number.]

CHAPTER XVII.

THE CAVE OF THE BATS.

THE resinous smoke of the torches relieved
the subterraneous atmosphere somewhat of its
offensive animal odor, and the flames flooded
the walls and ceiling with light. Their voices,
calling to each other as they advanced, sounded
abnormally loud, and seemed to fill the space
about them with a cavernous ring in which
they detected no side echoes that would in-
dicate lateral chambers branching off from the
main passage. By the current of air flaring
the torches back toward the opening they had
made, they knew that the passage itself must
be open to the day at its other end. The roof
seemed to be about eight feet above their heads,


although at times it drew nearer, and occasion-
ally it retired to a greater altitude, but never
beyond the searching illumination of their
torches.
Presently, as they advanced, their attention
was drawn to brown masses of something like
fungi clinging to the rock overhead, but par-
taking so closely of the color and texture of
the stone that they seemed, after all, to be but
flinty lumps on the roof. As Bromley, who
was in front, came to a point where the ceiling
swung so low as to be within reach, he swept
the flame of his torch across one of these
brown patches, and straightway the stifling air
was filled with a squeaking, unearthly chorus,
and with the beating of innumerable wings.
Scorched by the flame and blinded by the
light, many of these disabled creatures, which
proved to be a colony of bats, fluttered to the
331


r



ol4iQ*u ----r-~,


-- 7x -


:
4

:: -s~e~-








~-~r~N


r.


,AF~ *-N- e?


A PHILOSOPHER.


A LITTLE lad sat by the sounding sea,
Flat on the damp, damp ground,
And seeing a ship sail over the edge,
He cried, "The world is round.


"I know it must be so, because
I study geography now,
And the book declares that's one of the proofs.
But I 'm sure I don't see how!"
Tudor Jenks.


THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS.

BY WILLIAM HENRY SHELTON.


[This story was begun in the November number.]

CHAPTER XVII.

THE CAVE OF THE BATS.

THE resinous smoke of the torches relieved
the subterraneous atmosphere somewhat of its
offensive animal odor, and the flames flooded
the walls and ceiling with light. Their voices,
calling to each other as they advanced, sounded
abnormally loud, and seemed to fill the space
about them with a cavernous ring in which
they detected no side echoes that would in-
dicate lateral chambers branching off from the
main passage. By the current of air flaring
the torches back toward the opening they had
made, they knew that the passage itself must
be open to the day at its other end. The roof
seemed to be about eight feet above their heads,


although at times it drew nearer, and occasion-
ally it retired to a greater altitude, but never
beyond the searching illumination of their
torches.
Presently, as they advanced, their attention
was drawn to brown masses of something like
fungi clinging to the rock overhead, but par-
taking so closely of the color and texture of
the stone that they seemed, after all, to be but
flinty lumps on the roof. As Bromley, who
was in front, came to a point where the ceiling
swung so low as to be within reach, he swept
the flame of his torch across one of these
brown patches, and straightway the stifling air
was filled with a squeaking, unearthly chorus,
and with the beating of innumerable wings.
Scorched by the flame and blinded by the
light, many of these disabled creatures, which
proved to be a colony of bats, fluttered to the
331


r



ol4iQ*u ----r-~,


-- 7x -


:
4

:: -s~e~-






THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS.


floor, and dashed against the bare feet of the
soldiers with a clammy touch that made cold
chills rise in their hair. This was too much
for Philip, who turned back to join Tumbler in
the open air at the mouth of the cavern.
At the same time, however, the offensive
odor was accounted for, and they had no fur-
ther fear of meeting larger animals as they
advanced. As a lover of animals, George was
shocked at the cruel consequences of his rash
action; as a bold explorer, however, he pushed
on into the gruesome darkness at a pace that
soon left Coleman's prudent feet far behind.
The latter had a wholesome fear of treading on
some yielding crust which might precipitate
him to other and more terrible depths.
The way seemed to turn somewhat as they
advanced; for at times the light of George's
torch vanished behind the projection of one or
the other wall, and at such times Coleman
called eagerly to him to wait. Bromley's
cheery voice, evidently advancing, came ring-
ing back so distinctly that his companion was
reassured by his seeming nearness. Once, when
the darkness had continued for a long time
in front, Coleman began to be alarmed at the
thought that Bromley's torch must have gone
out, and then the fear that he might have fallen
into some fissure in the rocks made him cold
about the heart.
Lieutenant Coleman was now picking his way
more gingerly than ever, and holding his light
high above his head, when, to add to his ter-
ror, he thought he heard something approach-
ing behind him. Sure enough, when he turned
about, in the darkness of the cavern just be-
yond the illumination of his torch he saw two
gleaming eyes. The eyes were fixed upon him,
and the head of the animal moved from side to
side, but came no nearer. He would have given
worlds for the carbine. His blood ran cold in
his veins at the thought of his terrible situation.
He was utterly helpless, hemmed in by the
rocks. It was impossible to go back. He
could only go forward. He remembered then
that the fiercest of wild animals, even lions and
tigers, kept back in the darkness and glared all
night with their hungry eyes at the fires of
hunters. He was safe, then, to go on, but a
dreadful conflict was in store for the two men


if the animal should follow them out of the
cave.
Bromley's torch now reappeared in the dis-
tance. Coleman was too terrified to call, but
instead moved on in silence, occasionally flaring
his torch behind him, and always seeing the
gleaming eyes when he looked back. Try as
he would, he could get no farther from them.
There were occasional stumbling-blocks in the
way, and once or twice he encountered rocks
around which he was obliged to pass. When-
ever Coleman turned and waved the torch, the
animal whined as if he too were in fear.
Terrified as Lieutenant Coleman was, he
could not help noticing that the brown colonies
of bats now appeared more frequently on the
stone ceiling, and presently the air grew per-
ceptibly fresher as he advanced. He began to
realize the presence of a gray light apart from
that of his torch; and finally coming sharply
around a projecting rock, he saw the welcome
light of day streaming in through a wide open-
ing in the rocks, and at one side, thrust into a
crevice, George's torch was flaring and smok-
ing in the wind. Coleman placed his torch
with the other, hoping that the lights would
continue to protect them from the animal, and
then he sprang out of the cavern into the
sweet open air, with that joyous feeling of relief
which can be understood only by one who has
passed through a similar experience.
George was standing in the dry grass, with a
great stone in each hand, as if he already knew
their danger and was prepared; but when Cole-
man told him in hurried words what they had
to expect, he dropped the stones, and they be-
gan to look about for a place of safety. It was
not far to a high rock on to which they both
scrambled, and then Bromley let himself down
again, 'and passed up a number of angular
stones for ammunition. Whatever the myste-
rious beast might be, they could keep him off
from the rock for a time, but they were not
prepared for a siege. They had little to say
to each other, and that in whispers, as they
strained their eyes to look into the entrance
to the cavern. Bromley, however, was softly
humming a tune, and just as Coleman looked
up at him in astonishment he dropped the
stones from his hands and burst into laughter;






1897.] THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS. 833

and sure enough, there in the mouth of the ing his chops after the feast he had made on
cavern stood their tame bear, Tumbler, wag- some of the bats which had been dislodged.
Lieutenant
Coleman had
been so alarm-
ed at first, and
then afterward
so gratified at
the happy out-
come of his ad-
venture, that he
had not noticed
the character
of the stones
which Bromley
had been hand-
ling. It was
not until his
attention was
called to a flake
of mica that he
looked around
him along the
ground and dis-
covered there
many blocks
and flakes of
what is com-
monly called
isinglass. The
soldiers could
now have some-
thing far bet-
ter than old
wooden shut-
ters for the
windows of the
cabin.
By a certain
gnarled chest-
nut which over-
hung the cliff
above them,
growing out of
the hill above
EXPLORING THE CAVE OF THE BATS. (SEE PAGE 830.) the spring, they
estimated the
going his head from side to side just as Cole- length of the subterraneous passage to be not less
man had seen the mysterious animal's eyes move than a quarter of a mile. The sun, which had
in the darkness, and, moreover, he was still lick- broken through the clouds,indicated bythe angle
VOL. XXIV.-Io5.






THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS.


of his rays that the afternoon was well past.
They now thought it advisable to retrace their
steps through the unsavory cavern. In view of the
stifling passage, Coleman inhaled deep draughts
of the sweet outer air, and shuddered involunta-
rily at the necessity of repeating the experience,













,,, d











kner, the
.tklum1.1 now

LVas only stupid
"BEYOND THE ILLUMINATION OF HIS old Tumbler.
TORCH, HE SAW TWO GLEAMING EVES." George handed
him a piece of the mica to carry, and his care-
less, happy mood indicated that he returned
to the subterraneous passage as gaily. as if it
were a pleasant walk overland. As they drew
near the entrance to the cavern, with the bear
shambling at their heels, an indefinable dread of
trouble ahead took possession of Coleman. It
might have been the absence of the resinous smell
of the torches. At all events, they were pres-
ently standing in the gruesome half-light before
the empty crevice, through which they could see
their pine-knots still burning fifty feet below in
an inner cavern. As their torches had burned
to the edge of the rock they had fallen through
the opening. They were without fire, and if


they should succeed in striking it with their
flints, they had no means of carrying it a hun-
dred yards into the darkness.
The situation was frightful. Outside, the
perpendicular cliff rose a matter of sixty feet
to the overhanging trees of the plateau, and
close to the south ledge, which towered above
it. The two men and the bear were prisoners
on this barren shelf of rocks, with a quarter of
a mile of subterraneous darkness separating
them from food and shelter from life itself.
Was it their destiny, Coleman thought, to die
of starvation among these inhospitable rocks,
hung like a speck between the plateau and the
valley, watched by the circling eagles and by
the patient buzzards, who would perch on the
nearer tree-tops to await their dissolution ? The
very thought of the situation unmanned him.
Lieutenant Coleman was not a man to shrink
from enemies whom he could see; but the
darkness and the dangers of the half-explored
cavern terrified him. Corporal Bromley, on
the other hand, was only made angry by the
loss of the torches; and the livid expression of
his face reminded his comrade of the morning
when they had received the news of General
Sherman's death before the works at Atlanta.
In a moment, however, he was calm. Without
a word, he walked away among the rocks, and
when he came back he held in his hands a
lithe pole ten or twelve feet long.
Not a very interesting outlook, Fred, for a
man who would rather be eating his supper,"
said George, trying the strength of his pole;
"but you must be patient and amuse yourself
as best you can."
Lieutenant Coleman stared at him in speech-
less amazement as he disappeared into the cav-
ern, carrying the pole across his breast. It was
something less than courage it was the utter
absence of the instinct of fear which the others
had so often noticed in his character. Would
he succeed the better for the very want of this
quality with which the All-Wise has armed ani-
mal life for its protection ? Perhaps.
The bear was snuffing about Coleman as if
he were trying to understand why he remained;
and when he failed to attract his attention, he
turned about and shambled after Bromley.
Although Coleman was deeply concerned by






THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS.


the dangers which threatened his comrade, he
reasoned with certainty that wherever Bromley
was, he was as calm as an oyster, regarding his
progress as only a question of time and some
bruises.
To keep his mind away from the cavern, he
rose mechanically, and began to gather up the
fragments of mica and heap them together.
For an hour he threaded his way among the
rocks, thus employed. The glittering heap grew
larger, for the supply was quite inexhaustible,
and he discovered fresh deposits on every hand.
It was now grown quite dark, and he made
his way to the mouth of the cavern, vainly
hoping to see a star advancing in the darkness,
but only to meet a flight of bats wheeling out
into the night. Carefully he crept back and
seated himself on a smooth stone by the side
of his store of mica, and imagined himself a
hunter in the middle of a trackless desert, dy-
ing for a drop of water beside a princely for-
tune in accumulated elephants' tusks. When
he looked up the dark mass of the tree-crowned
cliff cut softly against a lighter gloom; but when
he turned his eyes away from the mountain, the
sky or the clouds, or whatever it might be,
seemed to surround him and press upon him.
Oh, for one star in the distance to lift the sky
from his head; or, better yet, the calm face of the
moon, and the touch of its yellow light on tree
and stone Instead of anything so cheerful, a
patter of raindrops met his upturned face, as
if in mockery of his wish; and then the rain
increased to a steady downpour, beating from
the east, and he knew the autumnal equinox
was upon them. He reflected that George
might never feel the rain. Miserable thought!
What if he were to perish in the darkness, sepa-
rated from him and from Philip, after having
lived so long together! Coleman might have
sought shelter in the mouth of the cavern; but
he was indifferent to the rain falling on his bare.
back and canvas trousers.
How long he had been waiting two hours
or three he had no means of telling. His
watch had long since ceased to run. Up on
the plateau they had noon-marks at the house
and at the mill, and at night, when it was clear,
they went out and looked at the seven stars.
He was thoroughly drenched by the rain, which


had now been falling for a long time. Cer-
tainly George should have returned before this,
if all had gone well with him. And then his
mind returned to the contemplation of that
other possibility with a perverseness over which
he could exercise no control. He saw him lost
in some undiscovered byway of the subterra-
neous passage, groping his way hopelessly into
the center of the mountain; knowing that he
was lost when, go which way he would, his
pole no longer reached the walls. He saw him
retracing his steps, now going this way, now
that, but always going he knew not whither,
too brave to yield to despair.
Then he fancied him in a lower cavern, where
he had fallen through the floor, groping about
the rough walls with bleeding hands and star-
ing eyes, patiently searching for a foothold, his
indomitable pluck never failing him. Horrible
as these fancies were, others more dreadful op-
pressed his half-wakeful mind; for he was so
tired that in spite of the rain he lapsed into a
state of unconsciousness, in which he dreamed
that the roof of that suffocating cavern, covered
with the brown blotches of bats, was settling
slowly upon George, until he could no longer
walk erect. Lower, lower it came in its fearful
descent, until it bumped his head as he crawled.
Now the roof grazes his back as he writhes on
the ground like a snake.
"Fred! Old boy! Fred!"
And there stood Bromley in the flesh, as
calm as if nothing unusual had happened, the
raindrops hissing in the flame of his torch.

CHAPTER XVIII.
THE STAINED-GLASS WINDOWS AND THE
PRISMATIC FOWLS.
OWING to the difficulties of the passage
through the cave of the bats, and the utter
barrenness of the rocky half-acre which lay at
its other end, the three soldiers never entered
it again during the fall and winter which fol-
lowed its discovery. The two blocks of isin-
glass which they had brought away on their first
visit were ample for their purposes; and as soon
as they had secured their supply of fat pine-
knots for light in the long winter evenings, they
set about constructing two windows to take the






THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS.


place of the sliding boards which closed those
openings in the cold, snowy days. It is true,
they could not look out through the new win-
dows, but much light could enter where all had
been darkness before. Time was nothing to
the soldiers in these late autumn days; and, in-
deed, the more of it they could spend on any
work they undertook, the more such work con-
tributed to their contentment and happiness.
They wished to have their windows ornamental
as well as useful; and it was Philip's suggestion
that they should try an imitation of stained
glass.
They had some of the carbine cartridges left;
and as they no longer killed any creatures, the
bullets would supply them with lead to unite
the small pieces of isinglass, and outline their
designs. One of the mica blocks chanced to
be of a pale-green color, and they made many
experiments to produce reds and blues. Oxide
of iron, or the common red iron-rust, gave a
rich carmine powder, which, mixed with the
white of an egg, adhered to the inner side of
the small panes. They found a few dried
huckleberries, from which they extracted a
strong blue by boiling. They could procure
yellow only by beating a small bit of gold to
the thinnest leaf, which they pasted upon the
flake of mica. The red and blue, as they ap-
plied them, were of course water-colors; but
the inner side of the windows was not exposed
to the rain. After the one square window,
which looked toward the Cove and conse-
quently let in the afternoon sun, was finished
in a fantastic arrangement of the three rich
colors, bordered by pale-green, it was decided,
with great enthusiasm, to reproduce in the op-
posite window their dear old flag with its thirty-
five stars. To do this, they cut away the logs
on one side until they had doubled the area
of the opening. They managed to stiffen the
frame on the inner side with strips of dogwood
which made a single cross against the light,
leaving the blue field of stars unobstructed.
It was a great comfort to their patriotic
hearts to see the sun glowing on their United
States window when they awoke in the morn-
ing; or to see the ruddy firelight dancing on
the old flag, if one of them came in from the
mill or the branch in the evening. In fact,


when this work was finished, the three soldiers,
wrapped in their faded blue overcoats, were
never tired of walking about outside their house,
in the chilly November evenings, to admire
their first art-work illuminated by the torch-
light within. Their tough, bare feet, insensible
to the sharp stones and the gray hoar-frost,
wore away the withered grass opposite to each
of their stained-glass windows; but the patch
of trodden earth outside the window which
showed the glowing stripes and gleaming stars
of the old flag was much the larger.
Otherwise their prospects for the winter were
by no means so brilliant as their windows; for
besides the failure in the potato crop, the white
grubs had made sad havoc with their corn in
two successive plantings, and the yield in Oc-
tober had been alarmingly light. Even the
chestnuts had been subject to a blight; and al-
together it was what the farmers would call "a
bad year." The fowls had increased to an
alarming extent, considering the necessity of
feeding so many, and as winter approached
their eggs were fewer than ever. The case was
not so bad that it would be necessary to shorten
their rations, as they had done before the har-
vest of the first year; but with so many mouths
to feed, there was danger that they would find
themselves without seed for the next planting.
Then, too, there was a very grave danger that
before spring these stubborn vegetarians would
be forced to resort to broiled chicken, spiced
with gunpowder, a thing nearly as repulsive
to their minds as leaving the mountain, and
going down into a triumphant Confederacy.
The bear, at least, would require no feeding,
and with the very first snow, old Tumbler dis-
appeared as usual, making the soldiers rather
wish that, for this particular winter, the winter
sleep could be practised by human animals as
well as by bears.
After Christmas the weather became un-
usually cold, and the winds swept with terrific
force across the top of the mountain. The
snow was so deep that the path they dug to the
mill was banked above their heads as they
walked in it, and the mill itself showed only its
half-roof of shingles and its long water-trough
above the surface of the snow. From the
trough huge icicles were pendent, and it was


836






THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS.


ornamented with great curves of snow; and
when Philip set the wheels in motion, a gray
dust rose above the bank, and the whir of the
grinding as heard at the house was subdued
and muffled like the very ghost of a sound.
The soldiers dug open spaces to give light, out-
side the stained-glass windows, and through
these the evening firelight repeated the gorgeous
colors on the snow.
From the path to the mill they dug a branch
path to the forge and tunneled a passage to
the water, from which they broke the ice every
day. Short as was their supply of corn, they
were obliged to feed it to the fowls with a
lavish hand, as long as the deep snow re-
mained. This kept them busy shelling the ears
by the fire in the warm house, after they had
brought them in from the mill or the forge, and
half a gunny-sack of corn was thrown out on
the snow at the morning and evening feeding.
Since the hut of the Old Man of the Mountain
had been made into a forge, the fowls had
roosted in the branches of the old chestnuts
and had got on very well, even in the winters
that were past. With full crops, they seemed
to be thriving equally well during the severe
cold which attended the period of deep snow.
The fifteenth of January in the new year,
which was 1871, was the first of a four-days'
thaw. The sun beamed with unusual heat on
the mountain, and under his rays the snow rap-
idly disappeared, and the ground came to light
again, with its store of dry seeds. The three-
pronged tracks of the fowls were printed every-
where in the soft top-soil, where they scampered
about in pursuit of grubs and worms. On the
fourth day the avalanche fell from the great
boulder into the Cove, with the usual mid-
winter crashes and reverberations, and the
sound of its fall reminded Philip of his nar-
row escape the winter before.
On the evening of this fourth day, the thaw
was followed by a light rain, which froze as it
fell, and developed into a regular ice-storm dur-
ing the night. When the three soldiers looked
out on the morning of the nineteenth, they
found their house coated with ice, and the
mountain-top a scene of glittering enchantment.
Every tree and bush was coated with a trans-
parent armor of glass. The lithe limbs of the


birches and young chestnuts were bent down-
ward in graceful curves by the weight of the
ice, which, under the rays of the rising sun glit-
tered and scintillated with all the colors of the
rainbow. Every rock and stone had its sepa-
rate casing, and every weed and blade of grass
was stiffened with a tiny shining overcoat. The
stalks on the plantation stood up like a glitter-
ing field of pikes.
Despite the difficulty of walking over the un-
even ground and the slippery rocks, they made
their way, not without occasional falls, to the
western side of the plateau to observe the effect
in the Cove. Philip was in raptures over the
prismatic variety of colors, picking out and
naming the tints with a childish glee and with a
subtle appreciation of color that far outran the
limited vision of his comrades, and made them
think that Sherman Territory had possibly de-
frauded the world below of a first-rate artist.
As they turned back toward the house Brom-
ley remarked that it was strange they had not
been awakened as usual by the crowing of the
cocks. Indeed, the stillness of the hour was
remarkable. It was strange that while they
had lain in their bunks after daybreak, they had
not heard the cocks answering one another
from one end of the plateau to the other.
Usually they heard first the clear, ringing
note of some knowing old bird burst loud and
shrill from under the very window, and then
the pert reply of some upstart youngster who
had not yet learned to manage his crow, drift-
ing faintly back from the rocks to the west;
then straightway all the crowers of all ages, and
of every condition of shrillness and hoarseness,
tried for five mortal minutes to crow one an-
other down; and when one weak, far-away
chicken seemed to have had the last word,
another would break the stillness, and the stri-
dent contest would begin again.
In leaving the house, they had been so en-
chanted by the hues of the ice-storm that they
now remembered they had not so much as
turned their eyes in the direction of the mill.
When they came upon the brow of the hill
which overlooked the mill,- which was a silver
mill now,-the limbs of the trees which stretched
along the bank beyond were crowded with the
fowls, at least four hundred of them, sitting





THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS.


still on their perches. Philip, who fell down in
his eagerness, and rolled over on the ice, re-
marked as he got upon his feet that it was too
knowing a flock of birds to leave the sure hold
it had on the limbs, to come down onto the
slippery ground.
As the soldiers came nearer, however, they
noticed that their fowls in the sunlight were
quite the most brilliant objects they had seen;
for their red combs and parti-colored feathers
made a rich showing through a transparent
coating of ice which enveloped them like shells
and held them fast to the limbs where they sat.
Whether they had been frozen stiff, or smoth-
ered by the icy envelope, they were unable to
determine; but they could see that all the
fowls had met with a very beautiful death, ex-
cept five or six of the toughest old roosters,
who had managed to crack the icy winding
sheet about their bills. One of these, who had
more life in him than the others, made a dismal
attempt to crow when he caught sight of the
soldiers coming to the rescue.
Bromley hastened to get from the mill the
ladder and the hatchet, and wherever a living
bird was to be seen, he put up the ladder re-
gardless of the dead ones, which broke off and
fell down, and chipping the ice about its claws,
removed it tenderly to the ground. In the
end the three soldiers carried just two apiece,
one under each arm, of the tough old veterans
into the house, and, not daring to bring them
near the fire, set them up to thaw gradually
against the inner side of the door. Then they
made a pot of "hasty pudding" for their own
breakfast; but before they touched it them-
selves they fed a little of it steaming hot to
each reviving old bird. In fact, the poor fowls
looked so much like colored glass images, when
tilted against the door, that fearing at any mo-
ment they might topple over and break into
fragments, they laid each rooster carefully on
his side, where the ice melted by degrees into
sloppy pools on the floor.
The soldiers looked on full of sympathy, and
fed their patients now and then with a small
portion of warm pudding, and finally, remem-
bering their medicine-chest, which they had
never yet had occasion to use, they waited pa-
tiently until the ice melted so that they could


handle the fowls without danger of breaking'
them, and then they held each old bird up
by the neck, and carefully dosed him with a
fitting restorative.
And now, having done their duty by the
living, they went outside to look at the dead,
which were if possible more beautiful than ever.
The sun was unusually warm, and by this time
everything was dripping and glittering in the
light, which was half-blinding, and the thin ice
was snapping everywhere as the lightened limbs
sought to regain their natural positions. As to
the dead fowls, a few of them had fallen to the
ground, but most of them remained rigidly
perched on the great limbs, dripping a shower
of rain-drops upon the ice below. Here and
there, where a few rays of the sun had found
passage, a section of the icy coating had turned
so that a half dozen fowls hung heads down-
ward.
By afternoon they began to fall off the
branches like ripened fruit, and to drop on the
ground with a dull blow like apples in an or-
chard on a windy day. It was a dismal sound
in the ears of the three soldiers, and a sad sight
to see the heaps of dead fowls as they. accumu-
lated on the ground.
The military training of these young men had
taught them to make the most of every reverse,
and if possible to turn a defeat into victory, and
so they fell to work and plucked off a great
quantity of soft feathers, and all the next day
was spent in skinning the breasts, which they
would find some way to cure and make into
covers for their beds, or even garments. A
portion of the bodies they tried out over the
fire, and made a brave supply of oil for the mill,
and then the poor remains were thrown over the
cliff.
The loss of the fowls brought with it only
one evident advantage--it left plenty of corn
for planting.
The six old roosters remained alive in a crip-
pled and deformed condition, the most dismal
looking fowls that can be imagined. But when
the warm days came after this trying winter, it
was a queer sight to see the three soldiers walk-
ing about the top of the mountain with the sad
survivors of their poultry-yard wabbling at their
heels.


838






THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS.


839


CHAPTER XIX. and some half consumed old combs from which
the dead bees had fallen in a dry mass upon
A SCRAP OF PAPER. the bench below.
the bench below.
THE long cold winter of 1870, which froze While Coleman and Bromley were engaged
all the fowls except the six sad roosters, and in planting, Philip was making an effort to find
followed the failure of the potato and corn a new bee-tree. He had noticed some bees
buzzing about the wild flowers
on the ridge by the old flagging-
Sstation, and he determined to
"line" them by a method he
b had seen his uncle practise when
he was a boy in Ohio. He
made him a little box with a
sliding cover, into which he put
a small honey-comb, and taking
the old yellow rooster under one
arm for company,- or perhaps
for luck,-he went over to
where the flowers grew near the
northern end of the plateau.
He set down the old rooster on
the ground and opened the box
on a stone in front of him, and
waited, watching his bait.
It was something like fishing
in the old mill-pond, of which
he had once been fond, and
he found a singular fascination
about watching the opening in
the box as he used to watch
his bobber. The June weather
on the mountain was like May
in the Ohio valley, and the
sweet smell of the flowers car-
ried his mind back to his old
home. He had no longer to
wait for the first nibble than he
had waited in the old days for
the first stir of his cork and the
spreading ring on the water. A
bee lighted on the lid and then
made his way down into the
" HE WAS DOWN ON HIS HANDS AND KNEES UPON THE TURF." (SEE PAGE 841) made his way down into the
box. After loading his legs with
crop, was disastrous to the bees also. The honey, the bee reappeared, and rising into the
gums had increased to a fine long row in the air flew away to the south. Philip followed the
years that followed the capture of the first small insect with his eyes, and then picking up
swarm discovered by Tumbler, the bear, and the old rooster he went on for a hundred yards
the honey had been a welcome addition to the in the same direction, and set his bait as before.
soldiers' simple fare; but the cold weather had This time he had two bees in his box at once,
destroyed every swarm, leaving only bee-bread and when they had loaded themselves they flew






THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS.


away in the same direction as the first had taken.
They disappeared so soon above the tree-tops
that he thought the swarm was not far away,
but every time he advanced, the loaded bees
continued to fly south, until he had moved the
paralyzed old rooster by easy stages the whole
length of the plateau; and the bees, which
came in greater numbers now, rose into the air
and flew in a "bee-line" over
the to.. ...-f de -.:utlhern lift.
Phi'i. .A s ; di- custe id at ti-i
issue .i I.i- L'bc, -liu i; ainy- '
fisherma-i. ilter it in t:
his m iddlc i :, o:l .
river [t- hIn,,.inr a


fine tr-,it., q'y
might L: ro:
lose hii.: *.i.:-
tim at L.ir _ii
the f:. ini L
rapids; btir li.
knew to: .i
certairi y t il
there w-s i
bee-tree :'somei
where bc:',i',J
the hirherto
scalable -.:,utrlIr
For iihi pro:
thoughlit ':'! iir,
andonei., :jnd til
of the camp, \
was now alarm


a; S- .'
S ,T.. T.- ^. I, ii .o, Spain.
i' Im' .r Tb r I._ Tral llt, .,
u ci '3 r.. .... ~ l scI. i rt l ." "i




LI! ,'- ll- lat- In at-iii b-. tEk.o ..
.I,-fllIml. ,ib: ,L-, L-^t
n l,_ T1. 1 r j.

n Ii..r- e. i I., r. il- !ain. z. '


':IA l t -' ,+i-,

THE SCRAP OF PAPEt
tingly low, (SEE NEXT PAGE.)


was cunningly exercised to
discover edible things in lieu of the corn, which,
after the planting, was all stored in the nine
gunny sacks that had fallen from the balloon.
The sacks were piled one upon another in a
small heap behind the hopper in the mill, and
the sad roosters had to shift for themselves as
best they could, except the old fellow who was
paralyzed, and for him they gathered grubs and


*7


840


prr,


worms, and saved the crumbs that fell from
the table.
It appeared possible to the minds of the
soldiers that the liver-colored slabs of fungus
which grew out of the sides of the chestnut-
trees and the birches might be as palatable
and nourishing as mushrooms. One day they
broke off one of these pieces, which was
shaped like the half of an inverted saucer,
m.. an.l ".i' n'j.':is nid cl.inimm orn the
-2.. i under K-i.l.-. They h.-1.a suspicion
.' th:t uC:h lthIr.- cre I.,oison.
i %*'I.. They I i,, ne'er 1,,-ard of
S' n o:ie ring the
S.-. like, and after
-.- "ihey had





endi. -,d the .ry c- Aian- .
L o i i 1 BAPP1yL%.(,-, ,( .'H( imESTO
) B I: Lt: .i 46 EBJI.-1 BKR -\
r, a' bt' ".M Y eeEi and OFICE.'

I E.o Jl a i r r"" '" l. dead I n t m


hftt rys ( .dr uh wO b eat
^-.JigLt ni d,-"'p, rmtjIan ne.. ThB Oi=m.o Caw'

etoPala th A n ry C-1 AElrSe
n3'+:i(> t;,_i i ,,blrl .td,, olnd ]U

t ,ib tl..- tlh El d att nm
-M Taefl .,f t11o M.." b.rifll-rt a -ibi-j nai *
p. sluh i 0 lnl l ad tc\. d', It in
r ,-..to. e u I .. t n .- rh e ir i ni 1.-kettle,
', 't i, irink: a. it: odor
l.S 't .. tw .-, t*lic, ;rintle: and
~i he-tntie. ir Ice ired to

tar "'. t .'i' l t.k Itg i'i h Ip an bid they
S. i h,,.:,k tler- 1 li,-i ,d-, ;iri .- .ilt the

eorm i aLn-lld, wiwere ab u": i: their





their domestic animals were about, the
S bear was licking his chops and the old
roosters were waltzing about in the grass
picking up the last morsels of the feast. They
regretted their carelessness, and rather expected
that before night the old paralyzed rooster
would be their only living companion on the
mountain.
When, however, the bear and the five sad
roosters survived the test, and seemed rather to
flourish on the new food, the soldiers took






THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS.


heart, and found the fungus not only good but
so much like meat that it was quite startling to
their vegetarian palates.
After eating all of this peculiar food-product
that grew on the plateau, they gleaned the field
above the deep gorge, and as a last resort they
made a hunting expedition to the half acre of
rocks and brambles where they had found the
mica. Terrible as the passage through the
cavern had at first seemed to the mind of
Lieutenant Coleman, the lapse of time and a
better acquaintance with the interior of the sub-
terranean tunnel made it but a commonplace
covered way to the field of mica. Not that
the soldiers had any further use for the mineral
wealth which was so lavishly strewn among the
rocks. It was as valueless to them now, as the
buttonhook found in the handbag of alligator-
skin. To go now and then through the under-
ground passage, however, if only for the pur-
pose of looking at the world outside from the
view-point of their newest territorial possession,
was a temptation which no landed proprietors
could resist. The little shelf afforded them a
glimpse to the south of the Cove road, which
on account of certain intervening trees was not
to be had from the plateau above. Several
cabins with smoking chimneys could be seen in
the small clearings which surrounded them, but
since the telescope had gone into the ava-
lanche with Philip, there was but poor satis-
faction in looking at them.
They found a single piece of the liver-colored
fungus growing on the root of a half decayed
old chestnut, and even this they regarded as
well worth their journey. They spent some
time wandering about the mica shelf, and when
Lieutenant Coleman and Philip were boring
their torches into the ground, one after the
other, to rid them of the dead coal, and getting
ready for the start back, Bromley, who had been
poking about among the rocks, called to them
in a tone of voice that indicated a very im-
portant discovery of some kind. He was down
on his hands and knees upon the turf, and as
his comrades approached him, he exclaimed
excitedly:
I have n't touched it yet. Just come here
and look! "
Naturally, Coleman and Philip thought he
VOL. XXIV.-- o6.


had found some curious reptile. Instead, how-
ever, of this being the case, Bromley was kneel-
ing over a scrap of newspaper which was im-
paled on a dead twig under the shelter of a
rock where neither the sun nor the rain could
reach it. The torn fragment was scarcely
larger than the palm of one's hand, and snugly
as it was now protected from the weather, it
was yellow from former exposure, and the print
was much faded, so that parts'of it were illegi-
ble. It was possible, however, to decipher
enough of the small advertisements on the ex-
posed side to show that it was a Charleston
paper, and they knew of course that it must
have come by the balloon almost a year before.
Undoubtedly it had lain for a long time on the
plateau above, exposed to the storms before the
wind had tossed it over the cliff and landed it
in such a wonderful way on the twig under the
cover of the rock.
On the reverse side most of the print was
was fairly legible. The scrap was torn from
the top of the paper and had on it a capital G,
which was the only letter left of the name of
the paper. The line below read "September
(day of month gone), 18-." The center col-
umn was headed:

FOREIGN WORLD
The Hon. Charles nowden, M. P., goes down with his
yacht Earthquake in Spain; four distinct shocks
felt-No dam e done-Movement of specie.

London, September 4th. The steam-yacht of the Hon-
orable Charles Snowden, M. P., which was wrecked
yesterday off the old Head of Kinsale on the south coast
of Ireland, was this morning looted by thieves. The
ri plate, carpets, upholstery and fittings, as well as a
large quantity of storage, sails and stores, were taken.
Lights were seen from the main land at two o'clock this
morning, when a heavy sea was running.

Later. The Hon. Charles Snowden and the first offi-
cer of the boat lost their lives by the swamping of the-
raft on which they had embarked.

Madrid, September 4th. Four distinct shocks of an
earthquake this morning were felt in the province
of Granada, in the south of Spain. Coming as t
shocks have, twenty-four hours later than the
ances reported on the coast of Italy by y
ws, would indicate that the disturbance
No damage is reported. In
from the vineyards.


841






THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS.


What remained of the right-hand column
bore, to the soldiers, these surprising words, in
sentences and parts of sentences:

LOCAL HAPPENINGS, CHARLESTON
R. E. LEE AS GENERAL-SHER-
MAN AT THE WAR OFFICE.

The controversy just concluded between the Couri
Mercury on the strategic merits of the two command
developed nothing new. The Sherman Cam
ending at the city of Atlanta
ably discussed and with
justice to the dead Comma
the great March to the sea b
More brilliant achievement
of the war and its
in another colum
South is satisfied
happy endin

When Coleman and Philip caught the first
glimpse of the scrap of paper, tattered and yel-
low, they believed it to be some fragment of
the Blue Book, which they themselves had dis-
carded. The exposed surface was almost as
free of print as if it had been treated with pot-
ash, and looked as insignificant as a dried leaf,
or a section of corn-husk. Bromley, on the
other hand, had examined it more closely, and
just as Coleman began to laugh at him, he put
out his hand and removed the scrap of paper
from the twig that held it fast; and as he
turned it over to the light, he was nearly as
much surprised as his companions.
The three were down on their knees in an in-
stant, eagerly devouring the words of the head-
lines; and Philip being on the right, it hap-
pened that his eyes were the first to fall on the
name of General Sherman.
"'Sherman at the War Office!'" he cried.
" What does that mean ? "
It means we have been deceived," said
Coleman. I -"
"Hurrah!" cried Philip, leaping up and
dancing about until the rags of his tattered
clothing fluttered in the sunlight. Hurrah!
Uncle Billy is alive! He never was killed at
all! If that message was false, they were all
false all lies! lies! What fools we have
been? We must leave the mountain to-mor-
row to-night."
We have been the victims of an infamous


deception!" exclaimed Lieutenant Coleman.
"Let us get back to the house at once, and
determine what is to be done."
Against undue haste Bromley remonstrated
feebly, for he himself was laboring under un-
usual excitement. His eyes were so dimmed
by a suffusion of something very like tears--
tears of anger- that he could read no further
for the moment, so he put the paper carefully
into his pocket, and picked up his torch and
followed his comrades sulkily into the cavern.
Upon Bromley's peculiar character, this new
revelation had a depressing effect. He still en-
tertained doubts. If the new hope was finally
realized, his joy would be as deep and sincere
as that of the others. For the present, the
thought that they might all along have been
deceived angered him. He had an inclination to
stop even then and examine the paper more fully
by torchlight; but the underground passage was
long, and the pine-knot he carried was burning
low. He felt obliged to hasten on after Cole-
man and Philip, who were now considerably
in advance. They were still in view, however,
and as he held the torch to one side, that which
he saw far up the narrowing cavern had a soft-
ening effect on his conflicting emotions. He
even laughed at the grotesque exhibition; for
the small figures of Coleman and Philip were
dancing and hugging each other and dashing
their torches against the rocks in a way that
made them look like mad salamanders in the
circling flames and sparks.
Such reckless enthusiasm was a condition of
mind which George could not understand; but
the possibility occurred to him that in their wild
excitement they might set fire to the house as a
beacon-light to the people in the valley; for
they could never get away from the plateau
without help from beyond the deep gorge.
To prevent, if possible, any rash action on
the part of his more excited comrades, Brom-
ley hurried his pace, and in the effort to over-
take them, soon found himself leaping over ob-
stacles and dodging corners of the rocky wall
in a wild race, which tended to excite even his
phlegmatic nature. As he ran on, that magical
sentence, Sherman at the War Office," stood
out in black letters before his eyes. What war
office ? If the paper referred to the war office






THE LAST THREE SOLDIERS.


of the United States, it would have certainly so
designated a department of a foreign govern-
ment. If there were two governments, it.would
be necessary to say which war office was meant.
If the old government in whose military service
he had enlisted as a boy had regained its own,
the phrase Sherman at the War Office would
be natural and correct; and with this triumph-
ant conviction he ran on the faster. On the
other hand, if the Confederacy had gained ev-
erything! -at the sickening thought, his feet
became so heavy that his speed relapsed into a
labored walk, and the oppressive air of the
cavern seemed to stifle him.
He would reach his companions as soon as
possible, and compel them to examine the
scrap of paper, and weigh its every word. It
was beginning, to dawn on Bromley that they
had all acted like children; and when he finally
came out at the entrance to the cave of the bats
into the subdued light under the dark pines,
he found Philip and Coleman waiting for him,
and clamoring for another look at the scrap of
paper.
There was not much to read in the fraction
of a column that interested them most, but
Philip and Coleman were determined to twist
the meager context to the support of their new
hopes, and Bromley naturally took the opposite
view, heartily wishing that the others might
prove him mistaken. There was something in
the reading of the broken sentences that tended
to quiet the enthusiasm of Lieutenant Coleman,
and when Bromley could make himself heard,
he called attention to the second sentence,
" The Sherman Campaign ending at the -
Atlanta, ably discussed," and "Justice to the
dead commander." What dead commander, if
not General Sherman? If he had lived, his
campaign would not have ended at Atlanta.
It was evident that there had been a newspaper
controversy in Charleston on the merits of two
campaigns by Sherman and Lee-The Atlanta
Campaign and the March to the Sea what-
ever that might be. The latter, Bromley
thought, was clearly some achievement of Lee's.
And then he remembered a prophecy he had
made on the night when they had changed the
name of the plateau to Sherman Territory.
"It proves," cried Bromley, "just what I


foresaw: that after the capture of Washington,
Lee led his army across Maryland, Pennsylva-
nia, and New Jersey, living on the country, to
meet the foreign allies of the Confederacy in
the harbor of New York. It was certainly a
brilliant military movement. Look," he cried,
when the others were silent, "' South is satisfied
-happy ending-'"
"But," said Philip, still obstinate, what do
you make of those five words Sherman at the
War Office ? How do you get around that ? "
"Why, my dear boy," said Bromley, "this
is only the heading of a newspaper article. It
does not mean that General Sherman was at
the war office in person. It simply refers to
General Sherman's record in the War Depart-
ment."
After all their excitement, Coleman and
Philip were obliged to.give way to the con-
vincing evidence revealed in the broken sen-
tences. They were too tired by this time to
consider the bits of foreign news, or notice the
dates, and it was quite dark when they reached
the house and went dejected and supperless to
bed.
The next morning they got down the map,
and looked ruefully at the States which Lee
must have devastated in his triumphant march.
With the consent of the others, Bromley took a
pen and traced the probable route by Balti-
more, Philadelphia, and Trenton to the Jersey
coast of New York harbor. Bromley was
determined to lay out the line of march by
Harrisburg, and was only restrained by physical
force, which resulted in blotting the map at
the point where his clumsy line was arrested.
They agreed, however, that Lee's victorious
army had undoubtedly camped on the lower
bay and along the Raritan river, in the coun-
try between Perth Amboy and the old battle-
field of Monmouth. They were convinced
that the rpap was utterly wrong, for after such
a march it was doubtful if there were any
United States at all. The disaster appeared
more overwhelming than ever, and they hung
the map back on the wall--in another place,
however, for it was discovered that the rain
had beaten through the logs and run down
across the Pacific side. Poor as the map was,
they were determined to preserve it.


(To be continued.)


1897.]


843























|[ Nay, but," she whispered, "naught is
mine
Save a handful of wheat-flour white and
fine,
U The gray hen's egg,
And the milk I beg,
Morning and night, from Columbine.

l" "'T will be plain," she sighed, "for a
prince- yet stay!"-
And she clapped her hands-" I found,
Sto-day,
SBy the old south wall,
Sp ^ Where the grass grows tall,
Such sweet wild strawberries hidden away! "

STHERE was joy at the court of Nevergrow- So she beat a marvelous batter,
old: Baked it (that was a serious matter!),
Thirteen summers the Prince had told.
Drums were drumming,
Guests were coming,
And the birthday-cake was just getting cold,

When--oh! that such a mishap should
befall! -
Cook was away with the watch-boy tall,
And the forester's hound
Leaped in with a bound,
And gobbled the cake up, candles and all!

Cried the kind little kitchen-maid, Oh and -
oh!
If they find it out, they will beat him so!
Though Cook's to blame,-
Poor, cross old dame,-
I'll" make one myself and none shall know'! I'LL MAKE ONE MYSELF, AND NONE SHALL KNOW!"






THE PRINCE'S CAKE.


/.J L


"SAID HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS: 'THIS IS CAKE!"'


And a proud little page
In silver and sage,
Bore it away on a golden platter.

Said his Royal Highness, "This is cake!
My regards to Cook, and tell her to bake
Straightway another
Just like the other,
And serve it for breakfast,
without mistake."

Which she did: but it was n't
the same, you see;
And the Prince was vexed as
a prince could be,
Since never a crumb
Of pound-cake or plum
Followed the little maid's recipe.

Dozens of cooks appeared in a trice,
Armed with raisins, sugar, and spice;


But, try as they would,
Not one of them could
Hit on a cake that was half so nice."

And whenever a loaf to the Prince was sent,
"'T was very good, as far as it went,"
He 'd politely say,
As they took it away,-
But not in the least like the cake
I meant!"

Dainties none but a prince may
eat:
Honey like sunshine, warm and
sweet;
Grapes in dusky
Clusters, and
musky
Citron born of trop-
ical heat;


"DOZENS OF COOKS APPEARED IN A TRICE."


845






846 THE PRINCE'S CAKE. [AUG.








ZI
























"'HE 'S WAN AND PALE,
AND THIN AS A RAIL,
MY POOR, UNFORTUNATE, STARVING CHILD !"

SAll things costly and rich and rare
) From the ends of the earth they brought
with care;
But the berries sweet

SNobody even knew they were there!

L k And the Prince grew silent, and never
CP smiled,
Till his Queen mama was nearly wild.
"He's wan and pale,
And thin as a rail,
My poor, unfortunate, starving child!

I/ Haste, ye heralds, and quick!" she cried;
"To every king's daughter, far and wide,
Proclaim that the one
i Who cures my son
Shall share his kingdom, a blissful bride."
"'HASTE, YE HERALDS!'"






.] THE PRINCE'S CAKE. 847





2- r



-- -i


Then he looked at the little maid trem-
bling there.

She was n't a princess born, 't was true,
/ Though her eyes were a princess's, brave
and blue;
But-he glanced at the cake,
And said he: "I '11 take
Her for my Queen without more ado!"




-K:

"'IF YOU PLEASE, I'LL BAKE
FOR OUR PRINCE A CAKE!"
And one could dance like a thistledown-
wing; -
And one could play, and a third
could sing;
But of pastry-cooks
Or cookery-books
Nobody ever had taught them a L
thing:

Till down in the scullery, half
afraid,
Sudden upspake a dear little maid: '
"If you please, I 'l bake
For our Prince a cake!"
With a curtsey shy, and a smile,
she said.

And lo! when she carried it up the
stair -.-
Ah, what a fragrance filled the air!
The Prince in delight
Took just one bite;











SOME COMMON BEES, AND HOW THEY LIVE.


BY A. HYATT VERRILL.


"O HAT reader of
ST. NICHO-
LAS is not ac-
quainted with
the Bumble-
o bee, that hap-
py go lucky,
clumsy rover,
the very men-
tion of whose
name brings
up visions of
summer skies,
broad fields
pink with clover, or meadows golden with
buttercups, from which comes the ceaseless,
hot, sleepy sound of her droning? But well
known "as she is, how many know how our
busy black-and-yellow friend lives?
In early spring, when the meadows first take
on a tinge of green, and the apple-trees put forth
their rosy buds, we may often see a single large
Bumblebee flying low and swiftly back and
forth across the lawns or pastures.
These great bees are the queens who have
just awakened from their long winter's sleep,
and are now seeking some favored spot wherein
to commence housekeeping and found a colony;
for these insects, like their cousin the Honey-
bees, live in colonies consisting of three classes,
or castes drones," or males; queens," or
females; and workers." When our big queen
has at last discovered a satisfactory building-
site, usually a deserted mouse-hole, she cleans
it of all rubbish and litter, and places within a
ball of pollen, in which she lays her eggs. The
young grubs hatch out possessed with enormous
appetites, and, feeding on the pollen, eat into
it in all directions. At last, when fully grown
and their craving for food is satisfied, they spin
cocoons of silk in the remains of the pollen,
and change to pupae. While her family is thus
VOL. XXIV.- 107.


sleeping quietly within their silken cells, the
old queen is constantly at work building up
and strengthening the cocoons with wax.
Finally, their sleep being over, the pupa-cases
burst, and the young bees come forth in all their
glory of black-and-golden livery and gauzy wings.
This first brood consists entirely of workers,
who immediately fall to and relieve their tired
mother-queen of all work and duties, with the
exception of laying eggs. They fly hither and
thither, always busy and industrious, now plung-
ing into the center of a gorgeous hollyhock or a
sunny dandelion, or buzzing about among the
modest daisies, or diving head first into some
sweet-scented, aristocratic lily or rose, always
emerging from their quest for honey covered
with the golden dust of pollen. The honey
and the pollen thus gathered are stored away,
and the eggs laid in the waxen cells from which
the workers issued; and the next brood, com-
posed of drones and young queens, feed upon
this store of nectar.
Unlike the Honey-bees,the Bumblebee queens,
to their credit be it said, are not of a jealous dis-
position, but live peacefully together in one
nest until in the autumn the family breaks up,
the old queens, workers, and drones perishing,
while the young queens, forsaken and alone,
crawl away to some protected spot, wherein to
pass the winter and reappear in the spring and
found another colony.
If you should examine a Bumblebee's nest,
you would probably find among our busy, hard-
working friends a number of individuals who
never labor for their living; and although they
come and go with perfect freedom, never bring
pollen or honey, nor aid in making wax. These
are the Guest-bees," or Inquilines, a species
which depend on their host the Bumblebee to
furnish them board and rooms rent free.
The Inquilines, like the European cuckoo or
the American cow-bunting among birds, lay their






SOME COMMON BEES, AND HOW THEY LIVE.


eggs by stealth in the Bumblebees' nests. The
young, when hatched, are cared for by their
foster-parents, and when full-grown are treated
with as much consideration as though they
were guests of honor. Why the Bumblebees
should permit their uninvited visitors to remain
with them is a mystery; for although some spe-
cies closely resemble their hosts in size and
color, others are quite different. It can hardly
be supposed, therefore, that they are mistaken
for rightful members of the colony. On this
account many naturalists have thought that they
perform some important service in return for
their hospitable reception; but of what this
duty, if any, consists has never been discovered.
If you will look carefully along the under side
of the ledge on any old board fence, you will
probably be rewarded by finding one or more
round holes, about half an inch in diameter,
and as true and smooth as though bored with
an auger. By placing your ear close to the
wood you may often hear a low, buzzing sound
issuing from within. If you are patient, and
will watch the hole for a short time or strike
the wood in its vicinity a sharp blow, a large
black-and-yellow insect will come tumbling
forth, and fly buzzing away. A Bumblebee "
you exclaim. What was he doing in there ?"
But, nevertheless, you are mistaken; for al-
though in general appearance she certainly does
resemble our Bumblebee friends, yet should you
compare the two, you would find them quite
different. In our new acquaintance the stripes
are pale ocher-yellow instead of the rich gold-
en color of the Bumblebee; and the yellow
pollen-baskets on the
hind legs of the latter
are replaced by a brush
of coarse, stiff hairs.
This insect is the
"large Carpenter-bee," r
and well named she
is too, for no human
carpenter could bore
neater holes, or chisel out the wood to form
a dry and cozy home better than does this
little creature with no tools save those Na-
ture furnished in the form of sharp, horny
mandibles or jaws. After boring the hole
to a depth of about an inch, the Carpenter-


bee turns at .right angles to the entrance, and
patiently cuts a long tunnel, a foot or more in
length, parallel to the surface of the wood.
The completion of this long, dry chamber ne-
cessitates hard, unceasing labor for several
weeks, and then the little carpenter combines
business with pleasure by taking frequent ex-
cursions to sunny fields and gardens, to gather
honey and pollen from the flowers' store. From
the nectar thus obtained she forms a paste
which is packed closely in the end of her
newly built house, and on it lays a single egg.
Next, small chips, made in boring the hole, are
brought, and mixing them with a secretion from
her mouth, she fastens them on the sides of
the tunnel, working round and round in a
spiral, each turn of which reaches nearer the
center; until, finally, a thin wooden partition
is formed, walling off the egg and its little store
of honey-paste. Against this wall more honey
is packed, another egg laid, a partition built,
and the operation repeated until the chamber
is completely filled. The first egg laid is the
first to hatch, and the tiny white grub comes
forth and at once commences to feast upon the
food so providentially placed within his little
chamber. Finally he goes to sleep, and while
he slumbers his skin grows hard and brown,
while ridges and protuberances appear upon its
surface. At last the little pupa bursts open, and
a perfect bee comes forth, with his shining
black head close to the dainty wall his mother
built. This, all unmindful of her toil, he imme-
diately tears down, only to find his way to free-
dom checked by his next younger brother or








ACTION OF NEST OF CARPENTER-BEE.

sister, still asleep in its pupa-tase. After wait-
ing patiently the pupa which bars his progress
hatches out into another bee, who tears down
the wall to his own cell, to find another pupa
barring his way, when both are compelled to
remain by the pupa beyond. Finally, the last


850






848


THEY 'RE


HIS.


BY A. L. BUNNER.


WHEN I go to bed at night,
You 'd wonder that I dare
To go into the room at all-
If I told you what was there.

There 's an elephant and a tiger,
And a monkey and a bear;


A lion with a shaggy mane
And most ferocious air.

But I think perhaps my bravery
Will not excite surprise
When I tell you that their master
In a crib beside them lies.


THE PRINCE S CAKE.

So once more the court knew the peace and quiet
Of happy hearts and a wholesome diet;
And the King and the Queen
Lived long, I ween;
And their wedding-cake ?- no, they did n't buy it!


7-1






SOME COMMON BEES, AND HOW THEY LIVE.


N. t1
LEAF-CUTTING BEN AT WORK ON A SPRAY OF ROSE-LEAVES.
bee is hatched,,and, breaking down the barrier
which hides the world of flowers and freedom
from his view, the whole brood swarms forth
to try their restless, gauzy wings in the bright
sunshine.
Perhaps some of my readers may have no-
ticed on their rose-bushes a number of leaves in
which neat round or oblong holes were cut.
This is the work of the Leaf-cutting Bee, a
pretty little insect looking much like the com-
mon Honey-bee, but with stout orange-red legs
and metallic-green reflections about the head.
Although the mutilated leaves are all too com-
mon, the nest for which they are sacrificed-is sel-
dom seen; for this little bee is a carpenter as well
as a leaf-cutter, and hides her home away deep in
the heart of some old post or board. The hole is


much like that of her busy relative, the Carpen-
ter-bee, but smaller, and instead of forming a
tunnel at right angles to the entrance, penetrates
directly into the wood. When the hole is drilled
to her satisfaction, our little friend stops carpen-
ter-work, and flying to the nearest rose-bush, se-
lects a tender, perfect leaf. From this she cuts
oblong pieces, which are carried to the nest and
formed into a thimble-shaped tube at its bot-
tom. This tube is next filled with pollen and
honey, on which a tiny egg is placed. Another
trip is taken to the rose-bush, and this time per-
fectly circular pieces a trifle larger than the
diameter of the tube are cut. These the little
worker forces into the upper end of the tube,
forming a tightly fitting stopper. These opera-
tions are repeated until the hole is filled with
tubes, one
above an-
other. The
lowest eggs I:.
hatch first, .'
and each
young bee
waits for
the one be-
yond to go
forth, in the
same man-
ner as the
young of
the large
Carpenter-
bee. SECTION OF NEST OF A LEAF-CUTTING BEE.


ON THE GRAND BANKS AND ELSEWHERE.


By GUSTAV KOBBL.

MANY a fishing-schooner that sails out of or run down in thick weather by an ocean
Gloucester with her ensign fluttering gaily from greyhound that no more felt the collision than
the "main truck" comes in by Cape Ann, on if it crushed an egg-shell--at all events, a
her return from the Banks," with her colors couple of men or more for Davy Jones's locker
at half-mast. A dory or two lost in the fog such is only too often the tale brought back


85I





ON THE GRAND BANKS AND ELSEWHERE.


: -... -



t .i-. .- ---DR- ~ LOST IN A FOG ON. TE GRA N B S.



A DORY LOST IN A FOG ON THE GRAND BANKS.


from the fishing-grounds to Gloucester, our
chief fishing-port. Tears at parting, weeks of
anxious suspense, and, when the ship comes
home tears again for a lost husband, son, or
brother-that story is common enough on
Massachusetts Bay. And even if neighbors
say, "Don't cry, dearie! Perhaps some ship
has picked him up, and he '11 come back to
you," the hope is short-lived. Lost at sea"
is a familiar line in the death-columns of the
Gloucester papers.
The Grand Banks of Newfoundland are the
great fishing-ground on this side of the Atlan-
tic. Other fishing-grounds near these are West-
ern Bank and Quiro; but all the year round
you will see vessels on the Grand Banks. If
you have ever crossed the ocean on a swift
liner, you will have noticed that when about
two days out you ran into a chilly fog. You
were off Cape Race, Newfoundland, crossing
the Banks. It is usually cold and foggy there,
and in winter frequent gales and snow-storms
add to the dreariness and danger.
Western Bank is near Sable Island, a long
sand-bar off the coast of Nova Scotia, and an
ocean graveyard, literally strewn with wrecks.


The English Government placed a flock of
sheep there because there had been instances
of sailors wrecked on the island starving to
death; but the sheep died. The island was
too barren even for them. A herd of ponies
was tried, and these hardy creatures flourished,
but became in time so wild as to be unap-
proachable; and a shipwrecked sailor hardly
has the strength to scamper after a wild pony.
Now, however, there are several lighthouses
and life-saving stations on the island, and in
the spring innumerable gulls nest in the sand
and lay their eggs. In May it is not unusual
for dories belonging to the Western Bank fleet
to get lost at least for a while; for the gulls'
eggs are good eating during that month. I
once asked an old fisherman if he had ever
been on Sable Island. He told me he had
landed there once when he 'd been lost in a
dory.
How did you get lost ? I asked.
On purpose, I guess," he answered.
Needless to say it had been in May.
The American fishing-vessels are schooners.
You can tell them by the dories which, when
not in use, are "nested "- set one inside the


852






ON THE GRAND BANKS AND ELSEWHERE.


853


other on deck. An ordinary ship's-boat
usually has a ring in the bow and stem, into
which the ropes by which it is hoisted aboard
are hooked. A dory, however, has a long eye
in the painter (the rope at the bow), and in the
stern a beckett "- a loop formed by passing a
rope through two holes.
There are five dories to the average fishing-
vessel, and two men to a dory, besides the cap-
tain and the cook, who remain aboard while
the dories are out. The first thing the dories
do is to run their gear "- set their trawls. A
trawl is a line, about a mile long, from which a
thousand hooks hang by smaller lines. At each
end of the trawl is a keg-float. The kegs of
different vessels are identified by distinctive
little flags, and marked with the vessel's name.
The kegs are anchored, and that part of the line
to which hooks are attached rests on the bottom.
On a forenoon in fine weather the dories will


"under-run" the trawls--will begin taking
them up at one end, and as fast as they take a
fish off the hook, will rebait and throw the line
over, hook by hook. But in the evening they
take up the entire trawl, return with it to the
vessel, bait up aboard, and set the trawl again.
Near the west coast of Newfoundland are the
islands of St. Pierre and Miquelon. They are
the last relics of the once great possessions of
France in North America. They have a French
governor and a uniformed French police.
Many French fishermen make their headquar-
ters on these islands. These Frenchmen sail
their trawls." Their fishing-vessels are much
larger than ours, and include even barks. In-
stead of dories they carry sail-boats. The ves-
sel comes to anchor, and near her each boat
drops its first trawl-keg overboard. Then one
boat will set a zigzag trawl by tacking against
the wind, another will run a straight-away


SPEARING SWORDFISH FROM THE BOWSPRIT OF A FISHING-SCHOONER, OFF NANTUCKET.


1897.]


----' "t:----






ON THE GRAND BANKS AND ELSEWHERE.


THE FISHERMAN.


course, so that the trawls, while all converging
toward the vessel, do not interfere with one an-
other. Then, too, the fishermen can in foggy
weather get back to the vessel by simply under-
running their trawls. Our fishermen set theirs
where they think they will hook the most fish,
and the vessel, instead of coming to anchor,
cruises about where she put the dories over.
The great "Yankee" fishermen are mostly
Nova Scotians, but the captains of our fishing-
vessels are, as a rule, Americans-hardy, self-re-
liant, quick to think and to act, and ready for any
emergency. While the dories are out, the cap-
tain, with the aid of the cook, handles the ship
and keeps his weather eye on the horizon. If
he sees danger in sky or sea, he sets a signal -
usually a basket hoisted in the forestaysail
halyards-to recall the dories. Only too often,
though, the gale comes up with such sudden-
ness that the dories to leeward cannot get
back. A dory with the bodies of two fishermen
in it, or, more frequently, empty or tossed bot-


tom-up by the waves, tells the story. Yet in
spite of the danger of starvation, a jug of water
usually constitutes all the provision aboard a
dory, and a compass is a rare bird.
The trawlers are generally found on the Grand
Banks, the hand-liners on the Western Bank
and Quiro. These hand-liners are smaller ves-
sels with fewer dories, and the men fish with
hand-lines, one man and two lines to a dory.
The hand-liner sits in the middle of his dory,
with a compartment in its stern and another in
its bow for his catch. When you see the bow
sticking far up in the air, you know the fisher-
man has his stern-load. Then, as fish after
fish flashes into the other compartment, the bow
settles, and when the dory is on an even keel
the hand-liner pulls back to the vessel.
The trawlers bait with fresh herring, mack-
erel, and squid; the hand-liners with salt clams.
The catch of both is split and salted, and the
vessel has a full fare," or catch, when she has
" wet her salt "- that is, used up all her salt-






ON THE GRAND BANKS AND ELSEWHERE.


and is full of fish. A trawler's voyage lasts
about eight weeks; a hand-liner's, eleven.
A trawler's crew receives no wages, but fishes
on shares. First, the captain gets a percentage;
of the remainder one half goes to the vessel,
which "finds," that is, supplies the gear, stores,
salt, and half the bait; and the other half to
the captain and crew in equal shares, which
run from $Ino to $150, and even to $250.
But among the hand-liners each man is paid
according to what he catches, the fare from
each dory being weighed as it is taken aboard.
This stimulates competition. There is judg-
ment in knowing where to fish, or how long to
stay over a certain spot; and even the quick-
ness with which a line is hauled in will make
a perceptible difference at the end of a day's
fishing. It means something to be high line,"
as they call the best fisherman, at the end of
a voyage, and those who win this distinction
















2 kl







:;^?^ .:^--


time and again, as some do, become known as
"killers and big fishermen."
The main catch on the Banks is cod and
halibut. There is also a fleet of small Ameri-
can vessels which pursues the merry swordfish.
Swordfishing is good sport whaling on a small
scale. A man, dart in hand, stands in the ves-
sel's bow, supported by a semicircular iron
brace. When near enough to the fish, he
lets fly the dart. A swordfish may weigh
three hundred and fifty pounds. One can
tow a dory a mile, and a piece of the sword
has been found driven through the bottom of
a pilot-boat.
Oystering is peaceful compared with fishing
on the Banks; but it is a great industry along
nearly our entire coast. From rowboats the
oysterman rakes the oyster-beds with long-
handled, long-toothed rakes, or dredges from
small sailing-craft.


Ik
11 k
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---.I -


* ---4-
4


OYSTER-TONGING ON THE CHESAPEAKE.















































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:--CI


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READY FOR HER FIRST DIP IN THE BIG OCEAN.


Nk


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c -"'s*;


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;


101'











MISS NINA BARROW.


BY FRANCES COURTENAY BAYLOR.


(This story was begun in the February number.]

CHAPTER XI.
NINA AND THE AUBREY CHILDREN.
IT was a blow to Nina when she discovered
that, with few variations, the nursery table would
always be "coldly furnished forth" as she
had seen it. If the "relish" for breakfast on
Monday was one new-laid egg each,-over
which the little Aubreys were as enthusiastic as
if it had been invented expressly for their bene-
fit,- on Tuesday it might be a scant supply
of bacon, which was regarded as too rich for
some of the children, and was given sparingly
to the others. If on Wednesday there was a
roast of mutton and potatoes and vegetable-
marrow and rice pudding, on Thursday there
would be a rib of beef, nicely rolled and served
with a plentiful supply of silver skewers, just
potatoes enough to go around, and Brussels
sprouts, and a plain pudding, or an apple-
dumpling.
All the children were healthy and hungry,
and therefore much interested in whatever was
served, and prepared to do it full justice; and
they all had that respect for food which is ob-
servable in the old countries. So rigidly were
they confined to plain and wholesome dishes
that they intensely enjoyed the occasional de-
viations from this rule -the fig, or half of an
orange, or three filberts, to which they were
treated when summoned to dessert with their
parents; the hot cross-buns of Good Friday,
the pancakes of Shrove Tuesday, the goose at
Michaelmas. As for the Christmas pudding,
it is scarcely an exaggeration to say that it
lasted them the year round, being talked of
and enjoyed in anticipation for the six months
before that feast, and in recollection for the six
months after. It was served at the time with
much ceremony, in small quantities, and they
VOL. XXIV.- 1o8. 8


had it cold for a week afterward with sauce;
and as all pleasures, especially those of the
palate, are the keener for being sipped rather
than gulped, that pudding represented a pro-
longed joy, the mere remembrance of which
often overcame Reggie altogether at midsum-
mer; and the children were never tired of
trying to determine whether it was best hot
or cold, with or without sauce. The sight of
the burning brandy when the solemn moment
came for Thomas to receive the blazing pud-
ding from Jane at the door always threw them
into an ecstasy of enthusiasm.
But to Nina, who, when she breakfasted at
the hotel tables, had a circle of dishes ranged
in front of her, and several kinds of hot bread,
and every dainty besides that struck her as de-
sirable-to Nina who habitually ate anything
and everything that was highly spiced, sea-
soned, and rich, and to whom plum-pudding
was no more than brown bread was to the Eng-
lish children, this state of affairs was a puzzle.
The more she saw of the Aubrey family, the
more they surprised her. She could not recon-
cile the ideas of their wealth and social position
with the simplicity and plainness of their way of
living. She saw that the Aubreys could have
spent money lavishly, and yet chose to regu-
late their expenditures by a curious system that
exercised the utmost thrift, care, and economy
in some directions, and permitted much state
and luxury in others. That the children should
wear serge frocks and brown-holland pinafores
and cobbled boots, count their pennies, live
frugally, work diligently, in much the grandest
establishment she had ever seen, was wonderful
to her. That with thirty servants of one kind
or another about the place her cousins were
still made to do much for themselves amazed
her. She stepped out of her- clothes at night,
and left them on the floor for Claudine to pick
up. She put away, took care of, valued no-
57






MISS NINA BARROW.


thing. The very smallest Aubrey child folded
up its garments nightly and put them in a neat
pile on a chair, placed its shoes beneath, turned
its stockings "just ready to put on,"- in short,
left all its belongings in perfect order. If they
got out a game, took down a book from the
shelf, or a cloak from its peg, they were made
to replace it. If they left anything about, they
were fined; punished, if they persisted in being
careless. They were not allowed to injure or
deface, much less to destroy, anything.
Why don't you make the servants do so
and so? Nina would ask.
Why should I call them off from their work,
when I should ard can do it myself? I should
be quite ashamed. And I am not allowed to
give orders. Mama would never permit it.
They are here to do their own proper work,
not to make us lazy and self-indulgent, she says;
and she has forbidden them to molly-coddle
us," Catherine would answer.
Goodness! What are you doing with those
old things? Why don't you throw them in the
fire and buy new ones?" Nina exclaimed when
she found Mabel with a pot of paste and some
paper mending the school-books of the family
one morning.
"Why should I throw them away, pray,
when I can save them by an hour's work and a
little trouble ? Only see how neat they look,"
Mabel replied good-humoredly. It would be
abominably wasteful, and some of them were
Mama's. Just run, like a dear Nina, into the
drawing-room and bring me that sonatina of
Winnie's that she tore last night, won't you ?
Next week I am to do all the music."
What are you doing with those old stock-
ings ? Come along and play," Nina would say
to Winifred, finding her sitting in a woe-begone
way in the sewing-corner of the day-nursery.
I should love to, Nina, but I may n't, in-
deed. This is Saturday, and I am running the
heels and toes of my new stockings before wear-
ing them, and we have to look over our things
and mend them for the coming week on Satur-
day, and darn our stockings and help Nurse
with those of the younger ones. I have Reg-
gie's to do, and he regularly rubs his knees
against a grater, I do believe! 'Who tears,
mends,' mama's rule says; but he 's a boy and


can't mend, and, poor dear boy, I am so sorry
for him, I don't mind the holes being big a bit.
I always look out for Reggie, and Mabel for
Arthur."
This amused Nina, and she said, "Well, you
do have an awful time, all of you. Mabel,
even, always has something to do. And what
if your stockings do wear out ? "
Why, you would n't expect us to have no
-duties, would you ? I am never happy unless
I am busy," said Winnie, primly and reprov-
ingly; and Nurse, overhearing her and know-
ing her to be naturally lazy and much opposed
to doing anything, called out jokingly, Oh,
indeed, Miss! Then maybe you 'd like to sew
down this long seam I have to do ? at which
Winnie had the grace to blush.
But, as a rule, when the Aubrey children
worked, they worked; and when they played,
they played doing both with more zest and
the better for this fact. The first week, Nina,
who was in the habit, as we know, of idling
away an immense amount of time, which kept
her in a state of limp discontent and general
listlessness, felt herself neglected, and said to
Catherine, "Why can't we do something -
have some fun some excitement ? "
"Very well, we will. Let 's go up to the
nursery and have a game of blindman's-buff,
or battledore and shuttlecock. That will be
fun," agreed Catherine, brightly.
"Do you call that fun? asked Nina dis-
dainfully. "Those silly, simple games? I
meant, why don't you go to London or to Liv-
erpool, or some place where there's lots to do ?
I 'd take you out to the theaters in a minute,
if Aunt would let you go; and we could give
theater-parties, and it would be just splendid.
Or if they won't let you do that, why don't you
give a party here ? "
Oh! Nina, we must n't think of town for
ages yet! We 've got to get good constitutions,
and educations, and grow up first, before we
dream of going to town. But it would be a
beautiful treat--thank you all the same.
What is a theater-party ? I 've been to a pan-
tomime, and it was most delightful. I long to
see another. I am afraid you are dull here,
and Mama charged us, too, to see that you
were not lonely. But Mabel and I have a plan


858


[AUG.






MISS NINA BARROW.


for this week- you will see! Delightful,"
said Catherine, looking important.
Nina's busy, clever little brain was always at
work on this problem of the life of these English
children, nor did it. occur to her that she was
quite as great a study to her cousins. They often
stared at her till she was embarrassed-this bold,
fascinating, daring, dashing cousin who carried
as much money in her purse as their mama,
and wore more dresses; who owned a watch
and bracelets and rings; who was "tired of
plum-pudding"; who ignored her grandmother,
and knew no law; who "answered back";
whose talk was "so curious"; who imperiously
ordered the Stoke-Pottleton tradesmen to "send
to Paris" for a fan which she meant to give
mama on her birthday, when Nina found that
they "had n't anything worth buying in a shop
full of the things the young Aubreys coveted;
who had laid hands on the gardener's Espiritu
Santo orchid, and appropriated his fruit with-
out a qualm of concern; who had "set her
opinion up against papa's."
The stable, the kitchen, the servants' hall,
the nursery, the school-room, the drawing-room,
fairly buzzed with reports and sensations and
rumors about Nina. Public opinion was di-
vided about her. Thomas, one of the footmen,
a fretful soul, disliked her for ridiculing him
and calling him "a what-do-you-call-it" and
" a parrot," in allusion to his green livery; and
for laughing at his powdered head; and for
going in, twice, when the table was laid for
dinner, and taking as much fruit and nuts and
sweets as she wanted, and then distributing
them among the little ones in the nursery.
He came in to his mistress, the second time,
very white and in a subdued fury, the head
butler stroking his whiskers in the background,
there to corroborate the awful particulars and
to give his moral support. "Would you come
and see for yourself, mem!" said Thomas, in
conclusion. "Only look!--all pulled about-
the like I 've never seen since I 've been in
livery; and will you be pleased to give borders
according mem, for when my table 's laid, it 's
laid, and never no fault to be found with it,
when young American misses is made to stay
in the nursery where all children belongs--
igscuse me saying so, mem."


Nina disliked Thomas for making a ridicu-
lous fuss about nothing," as she called this last
complaint; for pouncing upon Beelzebub when
she took him to the table one day, and bearing
him away, saying, Dogs is not allowed at
table in this house Miss"; for always thwart-
ing her and slighting her, as she thought, either
with "This is Hengland, Miss, I '11 'ave you
to know," or, You are not in Hamerica now,
Miss," which made her furious.
Jane was all meekness to her face, but com-
mented freely behind Nina's back.
I believe if I was to cuff Jane, she 'd say,
'Thank you'; and I just mean to try some day,
pretending I did n't mean to. She 's just a
sneak, I know," said Nina, who disliked Jane's
subserviency, and did "try," in a pretended
romp with Gwen, and was thanked-at which
all the children laughed.
The dear young lady gave me a pound for
mother when she 'eard she was blind, she 's
that good-'earted, bless her!" said one of the
kitchen-maids. She never comes to the sta-
bles without something for the 'orses, and is
no more afraid of 'em than as it might be a
fly; she 's all over and around 'em. She 's a
plucky one, certain," said one of the grooms.
She 's been brought up as never was !-with
her 'plum-puddings' and 'lobster salads,' and
she going to bed that minute! and other un-
wholesome stuff at all hours, and no regular
hours, and thin shoes, and hardly a sensible
garment. And she 's too free with her tongue,
and no respect for them that 's set over her;
and such hours--I never! up till midnight,
night after night, if you '11 believe me, and she
a young growing thing that ought to get her
sleep no matter what happens; and no break-
fast, as like as not, and then, maybe, pounds of
almonds Through having her own way, every

bit of it! But she 's wonderful with the twins.
She packs them around no end, and plays with
them by the hour, and is very patient when
they cry, and ready to give and do for them al-
ways. And a clever child--my word! To
hear her talk of London and New York and
all the places where she 's been, and the people
she 's met everywhere -there 's grown young
ladies as could n't entertain you half as well.
And generous ain't the word, to all, and ready


859






MISS NINA BARROW.


to take the head off her shoulders for them she
loves, is what she '11 be all her life long," said
Nurse.
"Miss Barrow has been greatly indulged,
that one sees. Some children of America
have much liberty, but all do not their own
will so entirely as this one, for, in the contrary,
are many of them so good children as there
could not be better, says the excellent Miss
Brewster," said Friulein Hochzeiter, and her
observation is all-trustworthy, I am sure."
I 've been obliged to forbid Nina's spending
any more money on the children. She thinks
nothing of lavishing costly gifts on them. And
she has evidently got quite beyond her grand-
mother's control. But Miss Brewster is un-
commonly intelligent, and now that she has
charge, there is sure to be a marked improve-
ment. I must say, too, that with all her faults
of training, Nina seems to have few faults of
character of a dangerous sort; and her follies
are, most of them, things that one can readily
forgive. There is something lovable about her,
as you say; but I could not have imagined a
creature so undisciplined," said Mrs. Aubrey to
her husband. It seems curious, too, to think
that the little princes and princesses of Europe
have not the freedom, the indulgence, the ex-
emption from practical training and duties, al-
lowed to this child. And yet America is a
country in which money has wings; and it is
a cruelty to bring a child up in that pampered
way, when it may be exposed to the rude sur-
roundings and bitter straits of poverty. What
if Nina should have to earn her own bread
some day, through some reverse of fortune ?
She has such a good heart, full of kind, natural
impulses; but it is all impulse, emotion, with
her, not fixed principle and habit. Miss Brew-
ster tells me that she has had plenty of instruc-
tion of a sort, but very little true education--
that of the heart and soul, which concerns it-
self with motives rather than conduct."
"Precisely," replied Mr. Aubrey. "I like
Americans, as I have proved; but I like them
grown. I have seen charming children there,
of course; but they were like charming children
anywhere else. Nina, I hold a brief for. She
has been left to a doting grandmother. She
has never known firm, wise, loving control.


She has had unlimited opportunities for turn-
ing out a bad child, and she is nothing of the
sort, if I can read character at all. Head-
strong, wilful, openly naughty; but frank, truth-
ful, generous, and most affectionate, and there-
fore sure, with half a chance, to come out all
right. But what a thread-paper, nervous crea-
ture she is, compared with our girls! I 'd like
to give her the British Constitution, in spite of
the Declaration of Independence. I threw a
box of that everlasting 'candy' into the fire
this morning, to her great astonishment. She 's
had two attacks of illness already; and her
Grandy can't bear to deny her, forsooth! I
got down my books and showed her what she
was doing, and she stopped crying at once,
and listened like a savant, and said: I see the
reason why, now, Uncle; and I declare I won't
eat scarcely any -not more than two pounds
a week.' I told her she might as well eat a
hundred, and make a quicker job of it at once,
and arrange about the funeral now. And then
she laughed and promised to buy only a pound,
and share that. As to her money-there 's no
danger. Lots of it, and safely invested, I am
told."
Meanwhile, Nina was not at a loss for words
when she talked over" the Aubreys and their
household with Marian. One minute I think
they have n't got a cent, Cousin Marian, and
the next minute I think they are rich as cream.
They are always saying they can't do this and
can't do that, though it costs a few shillings.
Aunt's breakfast dress did n't have a speck of
trimming on it, and Herbert has to have his
shoes half-soled, and Mabel, she can't have an-
other pair of gloves this quarter and has to
clean her old ones with benzine, and Cather-
ine 's got a patch on her schoolroom frock and
can't have but so many pieces in the wash, and
they never have anything really good to eat.
I declare, I just feel as if I were eating up
everything on the table all the time it 's per-
fectly horrid! And you ought to just see them
at dessert! Why, they can't say a word,
hardly; or get a thing, scarcely. And living in
a house like this, too, with servants that whis-
per so you can't hear a word they say, and walk
around on eggs all the time. I wonder they
don't get thin carrying around big silver dishes


860


[AUGM






MISS NINA BARROW.


with six potatoes, or three woodcock, in the
middle! Thomas is thin, and no wonder; and
if you want any more, you are ashamed to ask
for it, and you would n't get it if you did.
Why, they won't even let you have a whole
bunch of grapes I took one, and that Thomas
lifted them right off my plate and cut me off
six with the scissors. And when Aunt went
out to dinner the other night, she had on just
thousands of pounds. John Thomas said so,
'cause she wore the family jewels. And they
own three other estates, and lots of money,
Catherine says; and I would n't be English
for anything on earth "
There were some other differences of opinion
among the children. Nina, with all her own
cleverness, devised a capital Punch and Judy
show of her own, with a difference. Every day
added more incidents to the original play, and
the Aubrey children were perfectly amazed and
delighted by the ingenuity and talents of the
stage-manager. Nina was further inspired to
write an equally remarkable play for them to
figure in, dressed them for it with Claudine's
help, made them capital wigs of wool and
masks of pasteboard, drilled them diligently
and imperiously, and this time astonished the
elders as well as the children by a public per-
formance in the schoolroom that was "really
most entertaining," her aunt said.
Her cousins having chanced to suggest a
Royal Levee one day, Nina's imagination at
once took fire. That is, she liked the idea.
But she absolutely declined to go into it, or
further it, unless she could be queen. Of
course I 'm going to be queen."
That point yielded, she prepared a dais and
took her grandmother's cashmere shawl to
cover it. She sent for a picture of the Queen
and studied it. "I '11 have to take Grandy's
black silk, I guess, and I 've told Claudine to
rip up my white ermine' set and sew them down
the front where they '11 be seen, and I 'm going
to make the crown as tall as I can, and stick
in all Grandy's diamonds somehow, and make
them carry my train, and sit up as stiff as a
ramrod, and hold my head back this way, and
just sort of blink a little, and look haughty,
and I just know I 'm going to be perfectly
splendid! said Nina confidently.


When the levee was held, she exhibited a
haughtiness, not to say ill-temper, that would
have been alarming had she been a medieval
despot- was perfectly lofty and unapproach-
able, indeed; made her cousins lout low before
her repeatedly, and all walk behind her in a sol-
emn procession while she swept again and again
around the nursery.
Indeed, before Nina was through with her
playing at royalty, she became involved in a
fierce dispute with Herbert over the question
of whether it was better to have a queen or
a president. Both children said unpleasant
things, and separated in serious anger.
It was artful Mr. Aubrey who, after having
a good laugh over the encounter, sent Herbert
up to apologize. This he did with perfect
frankness and good humor, honestly concluding
with "And of course I 've not changed my
opinion, Nina," which very nearly touched off
the gunpowder again, and would have done so
had he not added, "We 're all to go out with
-papa in the drag this afternoon, and you are to
have the box-seat." She was a good deal more
frightened than flattered by the proposal when
she got downstairs' and saw the height of her
seat, and the dancing, prancing horses whose
heads were being held by the grooms.
She looked so disconcerted that Reggie said
teasingly:
"They don't have drags in America, 'I
guess,' and Nina 's frightened of the box-seat."
"They do; dozens upon dozens of them,"
said Nina; and I 'm not scared at all. I 'm a
little nervous, that 's all "; and with great dig-
nity she mounted to her perch, and gave no
further sign of her real feelings, although it
made her dizzy to sit there, and miserable,
too.
When her uncle called out, Give them their
heads," the grooms sprang aside, the horses
plunged forward, and they went swinging down
the old avenue at a pace that made the coach
plunge like a shying horse.
Nina would not even hold the railing.
"They will think Americans are cowards," she
thought, and 'heroically sat bolt upright, a set
look upon her face, her teeth clenched to keep
them from chattering. After a while she got
more used to it, and finally enjoyed the dashing


1897.]






MISS NINA BARROW.


drive over the downs and into the towns, clat-
tering through the villages and down the
lovely lanes, winding the horn, making merry
with the cousins, who, packed away like the
children of the old woman who lived in a shoe,
peeped out everywhere.
Look at this," said Catherine, with an air
of joyous mystery, handing her a note. Nina
opened it. It was addressed to Louise Comp-
ton, and ran as follows:
DEAR LOUISE: Mama kindly allows us to ask you
over to a party we are giving on Gwen's birthday, and
we hope you will come. Such fun as it will be! There
will be ten of us girls, and the boys have promised to
fetch plenty of water-cresses for tea, and there will be
lots of plum-cake and cocoa, and we always have as
many helps as we like on birthdays. And afterwards
romps and games. And after that we are to be allowed
to dance in the schoolroom for an hour. Fraulein will
play for us. Don't disappoint us, pray. And come
early, for of course it will be all over by eight, and that
does come so early. Sincerely yours,
CATHERINE MADE AUBREY.

"Is n't it too jolly for anything, to think of
having such a party? What fun we '11 have! "
said Catherine. Is n't it delightful ? We 've
been planning it for a fortnight, but we did n't
tell you of it before, dear, because of course we
could n't be quite sure that Mama would agree
to it until she had quite decided."
We did n't like to raise your hopes too
high- for it is chiefly for you, Nina, though,
Gwen's birthday coming just now, we thought
it would be nice to choose that day rather than
some other," said Mabel. Was n't it good of
dear mama? "
And we '11 come in and finish off the plum-
cake. Hip! hip! hurrah for the party !" cried
the boys, with riotous enthusiasm and a rous-
ing cheer.
That 's nice, is n't it ?" asked Uncle Ed-
ward, who had heard, and Frhulein beamed
benevolence and pleasant anticipation from the
back seat.
Altogether, Nina did not see her way to say-
ing what she thought about such a party. She
determined, though, to open their eyes when
the occasion should present itself, and she did
so very effectually if not quite in the way she
had expected.
She looked on in a perfectly listless and pat-


ronizing fashion when the day and the children
came, and marveled at the enjoyment they
seemed to find in drinking endless cups of nur-
sery tea or cocoa, eating piles of bread and but-
ter, water-cresses, and, though Nurse said it
was certainly a risk, two slices of plum-cake
all around. She did not join in their shrieks
of laughter over the games that seemed to her
insipid, or their delight in dancing with each
other in what seemed to her a most clumsy
and ungainly fashion; or in the noise and jests
and cheery fun of the whole affair, in which
Mr. and Mrs. Aubrey and Arthur joined with
as much glee as the children. Louise Comp-
ton played Mendelssohn for them when the
dancing was over, and being a really remark-
able little musician for her years, astonished
them by her natural gift and excellent technic.
None of my girls play like that," said Mrs.
Aubrey, although they have had the best ad-
vantages. And what a very well-bred and
lovely child she is altogether. She is sweetly
pretty and so nice! Are the Americans very
musical ? Surely it must be a very uncommon
thing to hear a child of her age play as she
does. Do you play, Nina? "
No, I can't play. I never would practise,
Aunt, and that 's a fact. I despise practising.
It's perfectly horrid, and I just would n't sit
up on that old stool and play the same old
tune by the hour, for anybody. But most of
the girls at home play, and some do it better
than Louise. She 's nothing much. They all
could play if they wanted to.
"I 'm not like most American girls. I can't
do anything, hardly. That 's because I don't
care to. If I wanted to, I think I could. I
guess I will, some day, if I don't get tired first.
I guess I '11 paint- like Landseer, when I 'm
ready. His dogs are just too splendid for any-
thing! Louise can talk three languages. She 's
more like an American, a great deal, than I am,"
said poor Nina, eager to abase herself and exalt
her country at any cost to her self-love. She
had discovered that her cousins made up in
accomplishments what they lacked, -according
to her standards, in dress; and she was deter-
mined that America should be creditably repre-
sented all around. It was this motive that led
her, later, when Catherine sank down by her


862






1897.] MISS NINA
exclaiming, "Oh, Nina, has n't it been the
greatest fun Just delightful!" to say:
'" Well, I suppose you think so, but it- is n't
what we call a party in my country, I can tell
you.")
The children gathered around, and she forth-
with launched into a long and fluent account
of various entertainments that she had given
and attended of large parties where there was
a band, and a girl would n't dance with a girl,
but would go home first," and an elaborate
supper; and sometimes she did n't get to bed
till nearly one o'clock, and the programs were
printed on satin, and the favors for the german
cost ever so much !-ofa little girl's "pink tea,"


BARROW. 863
for which the flowers alone cost twenty dollars,
and everybody got an elegant present from
Paris;-of Maud Billings's "yellow lunch," with
twelve courses, and all the girls dressed to
match, and they had perfectly beautiful silver
bonbonnieres at every plate, and "everything
just elegant." Nina thought that these stories
were very impressive.
Judge of her anger when Reggie laughed
scornfully, and blurted out, "If you think we
believe all those tremendous stories that you've
been telling us, Nina, you 're mistaken, that 's
all. The Americans are not such fools; and if
I were you, I 'd be ashamed to try to make
them out perfect lunatics."


(To be continued.)


0INGLE-CMANCILE
B BY RosALE M. JONAS











_, '. _--:i -









TWIDDLEDETWIT.

BY MARTHA FINLEY.
(Author of The Elsie Stories.)


ONCE there was a woman who lived in a little
house by the side of a wood. Her husband
was dead, so she was a widow, and lived alone
with her two children-a little boy named Billy
and a baby. This woman was poor, and had
to work very hard to earn enough money to
buy food and clothes for herself and Billy and
the baby. She used to spin yarn for people,
and they would pay her for it with money or
with things to eat or to wear.
One day she had a great deal of spinning to
do; but first she'wanted to clean up her house
and put everything in its proper place; for she
liked to have it look very nice and neat. So
she set to work to sweep and dust and scrub;
but she had hardly begun when the baby began
to cry, cry, cry, wanting its mama to take it.
"Oh, baby, dear, hush, hush!" she said;
"mama has not time to stop and take you-
she must do her work." But the baby would
not hush; it just kept on cry, cry, crying as
hard and loud as ever it could, never stopping
to listen when its mother talked to it or sang
to it; and though Billy jumped and danced
about to please it, whistled and clapped his
hands, it took no notice, but just screamed the
louder, and held out its arms for its mother to
take it.
So at last the mother did. She picked it up,
and sat down on a chair with it on her lap,
and hugged it up close and kissed it, and did
everything she could think of to please it and
put it in a good humor. It stopped crying
after a while; but the minute its mother put it
down to begin her work again, it began to
scream and cry just as it did before, and to
hold out its arms to her.
The mother loved her baby-she could
hardly bear to hear it cry so; but she must do
her work. So for a while she went on doing
it, and let the baby cry; but it cried so hard
that at last she could not stand it any longer.


She left her work and took the baby and sat
down with it on her lap.
But it did not stop crying that time; it kept
right on screaming, while. the tears ran down
its cheeks.
And soon the mother began to cry too.
Then Billy cried to see his mother cry. So
the mother cried, and Billy cried, and the baby
cried, and they were all crying there together,
when all at once there came a rap, tap, tap at
the door.
At that the mother took up the corner of her
apron and wiped her eyes. Somebody is
knocking, Billy," she said; "run and open the
door, dear, and see who is there."
Billy had stopped crying too, and wiped
his eyes on his coat sleeve. He ran and opened
the door.
A little old woman stood on the step. Oh,
such a funny-looking old woman as she was!
She looked at Billy, and Billy looked back at
her again.
"Will you please to walk in, ma'am?" he
said.
Then the little old woman walked in, and
went to the other side of the room where the
mother sat crying over her cross baby.
"What 's the matter, dame ? she asked.
"Matter enough," sobbed the mother; "my
baby is so cross this morning that I can't do a
thing. She wants me to hold her all the time,
and I can't do my work. And I 've got ever
and ever so much work to do! My house is
all dusty and dirty, everything out of its proper
place, and I ought to be cleaning it up this
minute. Besides all that, I have ever so much
spinning to do. If I don't do the spinning,
there won't be any money to buy bread for me
and my children to eat; and we '11 starve to
death bop-hoo-hoo!"
The mother and the baby and Billy were all
three crying again as hard as they could cry.






TWIDDLEDETWIT.


"There, there!" said the little old woman;
" don't cry any more, children; don't cry, dame;
I '11 do your.spinning, and you can mind your
baby and put it to sleep, and then clean up
your house. Don't fret about the spinning-
I '11 do that."
Yes, but you '11 want me to pay you ever
so much money for doing it, and I can't. I
have n't got it to give you," said the mother.
No, no," said the little old woman; "I '11
not ask you for a penny-not any money;


go there and see what it is, just as easy as any-
thing."
So she took a piece of chalk out of her cup-
board, and went to the mantelpiece and wrote
on it in big letters Twiddledetwit."
"There," she said, as she stood back a little
to look at the queer word; I '11 be sure not to
forget it."
And I '11 do your spinning," the old woman
said again, and picked up the bundle of wool
that was to be spun into yarn. "I '11 bring it


THE LITTLE OLD WOMAN COMES TO DO THE SPINNING.


only you must remember my name; and if you
don't remember it, why, then I 'm to have your
baby."
"Remember your name ?" said the mother.
"Only tell me what it is, and I '11 remember it
fast enough. What is your name ?"
Twiddledetwit."
"What a funny name! But I '11 remember
it," cried the mother. I '11 write it down on the
mantelpiece yonder; then, if I forget it, I can
VOL. XXIV.-- o9.


home when it is done. Then if you can't tell
me my name, I 'm to have your baby." And
away she went.
Billy looked scared. Oh, mother," he said,
"don't let that old woman have our baby."
No, Billy; no, indeed! said his mother,
hugging the baby close, and kissing it many
times. "We could never spare her, even if
she does sometimes cry a little we could n't
spare precious little pet could we, Billy ? "


865





TWIDDLEDETWIT.


No, mother; I should say not. 'Sides, I'm
'fraid that old woman would n't be good to
her if she got her away from us."
"But she sha'n't get her away, Billy," the
mother said. "She can't take away my baby
if I remember her name; and I won't forget it.
Don't you see I 've got it set down on the
mantelpiece? "
Oh, yes; and the little old woman sha'n't
have our baby. We 'll just keep her ourselves,
won't we, mother? "
"Yes, yes, indeed! I would n't lose my
baby for all the world," said the mother, hug-
ging it tight and kissing it all over its face.
" But, oh, I am so glad I have n't any spinning
to do to-day; for now I can take time to put
her to sleep, and then clean up the house. Go
out of doors to play, Billy, so that your noise
won't keep her awake."
"I will, mother," Billy said, putting on his
cap. "I want to build a little dam in the
brook out there."
"Run along, then; but don't go out of
sight," his mother said; and away he went.
Billy was a good boy. He tried every day
to help his mother. He would pick up sticks
and chips to make a fire to boil the kettle with,
and every night and morning he drove home
the cow for his mother to milk.
When he had gone his mother sang the baby
to sleep, and put it in its cradle. Then she
got her broom and swept the' house, and put
all the things in their proper places.
After that she dusted the chairs, the table,
and the mantelpiece too; but she was very
careful not to rub out even one letter of the old
woman's name that she had written on it.
And all the time she was doing her work she
kept saying to herself, Oh, I am so glad I
have n't any spinning to do to-day! "
When the baby awoke the house was all nice
and clean, and its mama had time to hold it on
her lap; so there was no more crying that day,
but the mother and Billy and the baby were all
very happy.
After supper Billy drove the cow to the door,
and the mother fed her and milked her. Then
she strained the milk and put it away, washed
the dishes, and put them into the cupboard.
After that she undressed Billy and the baby


and put them to bed. Then she shut the doors
and windows and went to bed herself.
And all the while she was thinking," Oh, I
am so glad I have n't any spinning to do! And
that old woman sha'n't have my baby, either;
for I '11 not forget her name. How should I,
when it is written on the mantelpiece ? If I do
forget, I '11 just go and look at the writing.
Maybe I might forget it if it was n't there, for
it 's such a funny name."
That was what she said to herself as she laid
her head down on her pillow.
Billy and the baby were both asleep, and


"SHE LIFTED THE LATCH OF THE DOOR VERY, VERY SOFTLY,
AND GAVE THE DOOR A LITTLE PUSH." (SEE NEXT PAGE.)

soon the mother was fast asleep too. They
were all in the bedroom up-stairs.
The mantelpiece with the old woman's name






TWIDDLEDETWIT.


on it was down-stairs in the room where the
mother and Billy and the baby stayed in the
daytime. Now there was nobody in that room,
and nobody awake in all the house.
Then the little old woman came again. She
listened outside at the door, and all was so quiet
that soon she felt quite sure that everybody
in that house must be fast asleep. Then she
lifted the latch of the door very, very softly,
and gave the door a little push. It opened, and
she slipped in and stole across the floor on tip-
toe, not making the least bit of noise.
She remembered just where the mantelpiece
was, so that she could find it in the dark. Soon
she was close beside it. Then she rubbed her
hand over it, across and across and across, till
she was sure every letter of her name was
rubbed out. Then she stole out of the house
and shut the door behind her just as softly as
she did when she came in. There was not any
noise at all. The mother and Billy and the
baby were all still fast asleep, and did not know
that anybody had been in the house.
The old woman laughed to herself and nod-
ded her head as she went back to the wood
where she had come from. /
We '11 see what we shall see in the morn-
ing," she said. "I don't spin for nothing.
I'11 have that baby sure as anything, so I will! "
When the mother woke from her sleep the
sun was up. Oh, I am so glad I have n't any
spinning to do to-day! she said right out loud.
"And you won't let that old woman have
our baby, either, will you, mother? asked
Billy, from his little bed.
"No, child; no, indeed! But what 's her
name ? I can't think. Can you? "
No, mother, I can't. But you wrote it on
the mantel, you know."
"Yes, so I did, and we '11 see what it is when
we go downstairs. So she '11 have no chance
to get my baby away from me. Jump up,
Billy. We '11 all get dressed and go downstairs
and have our breakfast."
The mother was putting on her clothes as
fast as she could, for she was in a great hurry
to see what that old woman's name was. She
dressed herself and the baby, and helped Billy
to dress; then they all went downstairs and right
to the mantelpiece to look for that queer name.


But in a minute they saw that it was all
rubbed out not one letter of it left.
Oh, mother, it 's all gone! cried Billy.
"Who can have done it? "
Oh, I don't know, I don't know; and I
can't remember that old woman's name! cried
the mother, and the tears ran fast down her
face. "Oh, what shall I do? Oh, Billy,
Billy, can't you think what it is ? "
No, mother; not a bit. It's such a funny
name, how could anybody 'member it? and
the tears came into his eyes too, for he did not
want to lose the baby his only little sister.
Then the mother began to cry out loud," Oh,
that old woman will get my baby--that old
woman will get my baby! "
She hugged the baby tight, and said those
words over and over, crying hard all the time
as she said them.
And Billy and the baby were crying too.
They all cried and cried and cried for a long
while.
But at last the mother remembered that the
children must have some breakfast; so she
said, Well, Billy, you '11 have to go and look
for the cow."
"Yes, mother," Billy said, and put on his
cap and went.
The cow was not near the house, as she al-
most always had been before when it was time
for her to be milked and fed. So Billy went
further and further into the wood looking for
her.
He had not found her yet when he heard a
very queer noise. He could not tell what it
was or where it came from, and he went this
way and that way, peeping behind bushes and
trees.
At last he looked up into a big tree, and
there among the great branches there was a
little old woman with a little spinning-wheel.
She was spinning very fast indeed, and singing
a song at the same time.
Billy opened his eyes very wide, and looked
and looked at her. He had never in all his life
seen anything like that sight. He forgot all
about the cow, and stood at the foot of the tree
looking and listening; and presently he could
make out the words of the little old woman's
song. This was it:


867






868
" Little does my dame know that my nan
dledetwit ;
Little does my dame know that my nan
dledetwit! "


Billy did n't stop to
look farther for the cow.
her at all. He started
for home, and ran all
the way. When he go-
there he went rushing
into the room where
his mother and the
baby were, cry-
ing out, "Oh,
mother, mother! .
you can't think
what I 've seen! .
I was in the
woods looking
all about for the
cow, and I heard
the very funniest
noise. I could n't
think what it was,
and I stoppedlook-
ing for old Brin-
dle,' and looked
this way and that
way to find out
what made that
noise. I peeped
behind the bushes
and under the trees,
and everywhere. At
last I looked up
into a great big
tree, and there on
a great big branch
sat a little old wo-
man with a little


hear any mi
He did n't


L


7.'
.D .

LITTLEE OLD WOMAI


bit of a spinning-wheel, and she was
away ever so fast, and singing:
"Little does my dame know that my nam
dledetwit!
Little does my dame know that my nam
dledetwit! "
There that's the old woman's na
very name she told me; and now she
get my baby! cried the mother, jut
and setting the baby down on the flo


TWIDDLEDETWIT.
e 's Twid- her hands for joy. No, indeed, she shall not
have her -the dear little pet!"
's Twid- Billy clapped his hands too, and jumped and
shouted and laughed because he was so glad he
ore, or to was not to lose his dear baby sister. The baby
think of thought he was doing it all to make fun for
her, so she laughed
.. too and clapped
S* her little fat hands.
S -Just then there
came again a rap,
tap, tap at the
door, and at once
in walked the lit-
tle old woman with
the spinning in her
hand.
SThere 's your
spinning, dame,"
.she said, throwing
it down; "it's all
done. Now give
me your baby."
No, indeed!
SI '1I not give you
my baby cried
Sithe mother; and
A t she snatched it up
in a great hurry
e_ 'is and held it fast
tLe rin her arms, as if
Ct she would never,
never let anybody
S ;.. take it from her.
"Why,what's my
name?" screamed
hi" e litte old woman. "You
.;K kn._i I 'm to have your baby
N WITH A LITTLE SPINNING-WHEEL." if you can't remember my
name. What is it?"
spinning "Twiddledetwit -that's your name, and you
sha'n't have my baby," said the mother; and
e 's Twid- she laughed and held the baby close.
At that the little old wonian was oh, so an-
e 's Twid- gry She stamped her foot at the baby's mo-
ther, while her wicked black eyes snapped;
tame-the then she bounced out of the house and slammed
e will not the door. "I '11 never do any more spinning
nping up for that woman as long as I live!" she said;
or to clap and away she went, and never came back.































BY RUDOLPH F. BUNNER.


WHEN King Kijolly goes a-farming When walking goes good King Kijolly,
To keep the birds his crops from harming His heart is touched with melancholy,
He puts his scarecrows round; To hear these birds complain;
And feathered flocks from far and near, So, to the royal barn he '11 hie,
That came to feed and have good cheer,- And, in the twinkling of an eye,
He shoos them off the ground. He '11 straightway still their plaintive cry;
For, from the sacks piled high and dry,
He feeds them golden grain.











MY MUSICAL MOUSE.

By ALBERT BiGtiOW PAINE.
(With drawings from life by Frank Verbeck.)


1I iS IN one of my school read-
ers- McGuffey's third or
fourth, I think -there was
the story of a musical mouse.
As a child I read this tale with wondering in-
terest. A little later in life I was to see it
verified.
I was a boy of perhaps sixteen when I
learned to play a few chords and melodies on
the guitar. As I had mastered these for my
own amusement, and suspected that my plea-
sure was not always shared by other members
of the family, I often retired to my own up-
stairs room to enjoy it alone. Here at length
I found one listener, at least, who was attracted
by my performance. Perhaps his ear for music
was not very refined.
In one end of my room there was an old fire-
place about which there lived a few mice not
many, for we had a band of
cats that roamed over the house
at will. One night, as I sat _
playing, I heard a slight noise
on the hearth. Glancing down,
I saw a very small and meager-
looking mouse. It was crouched as if ready to
spring. It faced me, and its eyes shone like
small black buttons. As I stopped playing, it
moved its head about uneasily, and seemed un-
certain what to do. Presently it ran back into
the wall, stopping every few inches as if to
listen.
I watched where it had disappeared, and be-
gan playing again. In a few moments I saw
the glint of its eager eyes. Then it crept, out,
little by little, crouching in its former position
on the hearth. I played on softly, and sat very
still. It crept closer and' closer, and pretty
soon sat upright, its fore paws crossed, 'and its
head tipped a little to one side, in a pose that
was both comic and pathetic. I struck--a few


louder chords, and it perked up instantly in an
attitude of extreme attention. I mellowed the
music, and continued playing. Then it dropped
down on all fours, and drew nearer until it
reached my foot. Here it hesitated a moment,
and looked up at me, or rather at the guitar,
eagerly. I sat perfectly still, and made the
best music I could produce.
Slowly, very slowly, it climbed up, clinging
to my trousers leg. When it had reached my
knee it once more sat erect, staring straight
ahead. It did not appear to see me at all.
I stopped playing for a moment, and it seemed
uneasy and half dazed, but did not offer to es-
cape until I finally touched it with my hand.
Then it ran away, though with evident reluc-
tance.
As soon as I began playing it returned, and
this time I allowed it to creep up my coat and
out on my sleeve. Here it sat for a long time
very still, only pricking
its ears and tightening
its muscles a little when -
I played briskly and .-
louder. If I stopped ,I
and touched it, how-
ever, it would run \ "
just out of -


I~. -


r\^
--t


reach of my hand, and wait for the
music to begin d once more.
As the evening passed, my
new acquaintance became so
bold, or rather so indifferent to my presence,
that I could stroke it; and it was only when
I took it between my fingers and thumb that






MY MUSICAL MOUSE.


it struggled weakly for freedom.
,Q. It seemed so small and puny
that I concluded it must be
Sick or half starved. At bed-
time I drove it gently back
to its den near the fireplace.
The next evening I came prepared with food;
but when it crept out again, as it did almost as
soon as I began playing, it only nibbled a little
at the cheese, and dropped it a moment 1bter to
listen.. I decided thatit was the musical gclius
of some family of mice, and that food to it-was
of less importance than the enjoyment of tune
and harmony. So far as I know, no other
member of its family ever interested itself in
my playing. Perhaps the others even deserted
the fireplace and left my little friend alone.
As time passed I grew very fond of this tiny
mouse. Sometimes during the day I pushed
bits of bread and cheese into its den, and in
time it became very tame, and would come
out and act in so many cunning
ways that I
passed many
delightfulhours .
in its society. ,:.
Once I placed
it under a glass
tumbler, with a -.






tack beneath the edge to give it air. It
did not enjoy its captivity, and at last suc-
ceeded in overturning its prison. Sometimes
it would scratch itself with its hind foot or
with its tiny teeth in a manner that was as in-
teresting as it was amusing. The moment I


began playing, however, all antics ceased, and
if would creep up as close to the guitar as
possible.
I fear the fact of its becoming so adven-







/ 1 l turous
brought it
) at last to a
tragic end. One
evening when I began
( playing it failed to ap-
pear. I played over the
things it had seemed to like best, softly, at
first, and then louder, thinking that it might
be in some remote part of the wall and out
of hearing. Still it did not come, though I
played over and over all the pieces I knew,
sometimes kneeling down and striking the strings
close to the entrance of its little house, while I
waited eagerly for its appearance. Finally I
went to bed discouraged.
Early the next morning I played again in
front of its dwelling, but it did not appear."
At breakfast I mentioned the matter to my
mother. She was silent for a few moments;
then she said:
"If your room door was open yesterday, I
am afraid you will not see your little friend any
more. I saw Pug' coming downstairs during
the afternoon."
Pug was our largest gray cat. He was at
that moment sleeping contentedly before the
fire. I choked down my breakfast as best I
could. Then I went to my room and played
softly, and cried; for, after all, I was only a
boy of perhaps sixteen.


keyAt-
(Li^


871



























': E CONE TO 1BU Y A-FOCK TODAY -OR. M.Y
MATILDA JAME.
THINK SHEi JUWT ALOVELY DOLL,THOUCH FATHER CALLS HER PLAIN!)
IT MUeT .BE IOMETH-II'f PRETTY AKlTMb OF PINK, OR BLIUE ,
YE" THAT IN REALLY VERY SWEET; I THINK THAT IT WILL DO.
THEREm NOTHING MOVIE I WANT TO)AY. (t1-OPE IT NOT TOO DEAR!)
O YES ILL PAY YOU FOR IT NOr; IvF. GOT THE MONEY HERE.
PLEASE WRnAP IT UP IN PAPER AND PUT IT IN THE TRAIN..
COME BABY DEA-R,LTHINK WE M-USTBE GETTING HOME AGAIN.
Yw. W. VGEJ' sON.
\[Oa> _____ <-a2_2____o^
















pHItOSOPH
oritW1^" -1


TALK ON THE BOOK-SHELF.


rF.


BY KATHARINE PYLE.


THE little toy shepherdess looked up
Where the books stood in a row.
"I wish I could hear them talk," she said;
"For it must be fine, I know."

"Ah, yes," the wooden soldier said;
"They are quiet enough all day;
But I've heard when the children are all abed
They talk in a wonderful way."

And now it was twilight in the room;
And- on the book-case shelves
The books began to stretch their backs,
And to talk among themselves.

"I wish," cried a peevish little book,
"That you would not crowd me so;
You 're always poking me in the back
Because I am small, I know."

"It 's not my fault," said a fat thick voice.
I 'm crowded so myself
I can hardly breathe. You little books
Should be kept off the shelf."

"Oh, dear! my stories," another said,
Kept buzzing so inside


That I hardly got a wink of sleep
Last night, though I tried and tried."

" Oh, go to sleep," cried a lesson-book;
"It's enough to work all day
Without your quarreling, too, at night;
So get to sleep, I say."

"Ah! the shepherdess sighed, "they
are going to sleep!
How lovely their dreams must be!
I wish that I were a book, to live
Up there on the shelf," said she.


VOL. XXIV.-- no. 873


/4 *f










MOTHER GOOSE SONGS WITHOUT WORDS.


By MRS. JOHN ORTH.


JACK AND JILL.
Brightly.



-....oco. ________- _____-__--






_..~ ___- t-- S --



oco.


) mf -=`C c = creso. f





DING DONG BELL.
Sbowly._ _

= > > .


.. -- -- f



S- _- _- -- _
dim. p p _--_ rit





TWith spirit.


f of f mp
-~~ 1-1
a) 5*






MOTHER GOOSE SONGS WITHOUT WORDS. 875

THE QUEEN OF HEARTS.


Not too fast.


MY SON JOHN.


THE KING OF FRANCE.
March time. .









. .- .












THE LETTER-BOX.


CONTRIBUTORS are respectfully informed that between the Ist of June and the 15th of September manuscripts cannot conveniently be
examined at the office of ST. NICHOLAS. Consequently, those who desire to favor the magazine with contributions
will please postpone sending the' MSS. until after the last-named date.


ST. PETERSBURG, RUSSIA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We live in St. Petersburg. It
is very cold in winter; the river gets frozen up so that
we can drive over it. We skate nearly every day when
it is not too cold. The finest church in St. Petersburg is
St. Isaac's. The icons are made of precious stones,
rubies, and diamonds. There is a beautiful statue of
Peter the Great opposite the Senate or Parliament. We
think the nicest of the stories in this year's magazine is
"June's Garden."
From your loving friends MARGARET WHISHAW,
M. VERA MCCALLUM.
"Icons are the sacred pictures.


FORDHAM, N. Y.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I reside, as you see above, in
Fordham, which is a part of New York City. It was
here that one of America's greatest poets, Edgar Allan
Poe, lived for a time. I read in a newspaper not long
ago that the city had bought the house in which he
lived, and that the Department of Public Parks intend
to move it across the road into a park which will be set
aside for this old relic. In front of the cottage they will
erect a statue of Poe sitting in a chair, and upon his
shoulder will be perched the famous Raven.
I am your constant reader,
EUGENE THORNE WALTER.


SUMMIT HILL, PA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am eleven years old, and I
have taken you for nearly five years, and enjoy your sto-
ries very much.
I have been to Wisconsin twice, and I think it is a
very nice State.
I will tell you about the town I live in. It is a very
small town, but it is noted for its coal-mines. It con-
tains one of the largest veins of coal in the world. We
have a mine here that caught fire from an explosion,
and it has been burning for thirty-five years. An ex-
cursion road runs in here. It is called the Switch-
back; and coming back on its return trip it has to go up
two high places. The first, Mt. Pisgah, is a great many
feet high, while Mt. Jefferson is 1662 feet above sea-level.
I remain your constant reader, RUSSELL WALTON.


RUSSELL, KANSAS.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: My name is Winifred Hall,
and I am twelve years old. We take ST. NICHOLAS,
and our family took it before I or Harry was born. Ever
since I can remember it has come on the 25th of each
month. I can hardly wait till the 25th comes, and then
I cannot rest till I have read the magazine. I like it
more and more, and think it has improved each year.
I am near-sighted and have to wear glasses. Some-
times my eyes hurt, and I cannot use them; but that
never happens on the 25th. I have a folio that I call


the ST. NICHOLAS foli6, and I keep all the pictures in the
front of ST. NICHOLAS. Some of them are beautiful.
I have a ten-year-old cousin named Leland Copeland.
We buy tablets with large colored pictures on the cover,
and then we make up stories about them, and. write
them in it. -My last story is about "The Queen of
Dwarf-land." We both have rubber Brownie stamps,
and we print them. Sometimes we write poetry too.
One of my poems is "No Thanksgiving Day.'!
We-have one room in Leland's or my house where we
have a play-house. We build cities out of the blocks,
and have dolls to represent people. First we had Wash-
ington, the capital of the United States, and McKinley,
Hobart, Bryan, Sewall, the Capitol, White House, stores,
hotels, depot, and other places. Now we have a place
we call Snowhill; and we built a palace, and have my
Eskimo doll dressed up for the Sultan. He has a silver
sword and servants and children. We always have
stores and other things too. Good-by.
From your friend, WINIFRED HALL.


BERLIN, GERMANY.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have never written to you
before; but I have taken you for five years, and before
that time a friend lent me your bound volumes to read.
I am at present living in Berlin; but until quite lately
I was staying at the picturesque little town of Vevay in
Switzerland. I am an enthusiastic mountain-climber,
and have made some fairly difficult ascensions while in
Switzerland. One mountain that I climbed--the Diab-
Ions was nearly 14,000 feet high. I went in company
with a friend and two guides. It was a very rough
scramble. We stayed that summer in a big hotel situ-
ated in a valley about 5000 feet above the level of the
sea. All about us lay the great glaciers and some of the
highest peaks of the Swiss Alps. One had to cross a
very difficult pass to get to-Zermatt; the day after we
left an English lady was killed there.
Once we made an excursion from this place to a hut
of refuge of the Swiss Alpine Club which overlooked a
glorious glacier. To reach the hut we had to walk sev-
eral hours on this glacier, once even cutting steps in the
ice and all in the month of July!
. The summer before this I was in Chamonix, at the
foot of Mont Blanc.
However, last summer I made my crowning and last
excursion to the Dent (tooth) of Barmaz, 7500 feet
high. I made this ascent with one guide, from the north
side, which had until then been accomplished only twice,
so that I was the third.
We started in the afternoon, and slept that night in a
chalet on a mountain. The next morning at 3 A. M. we
started with a lantern, for it was so dark one could
scarcely see anything. It was quite a difficult climb,
first, for one hour up a steep slant of black ice (with rocks
below) into which we had to cut steps with our ice-axes,
and then for a long while over rocks to the summit. We
were roped together for almost three hours. During
the descent, which we made on the side, we came sud-







THE LETTER-BOX.


denly upon a chamois buck, which, however, bounded
away'very rapidly. I am an American boy, fifteen years
old, and have been on the Continent four years. Last
August I visited the Geneva Exhibition.
I am your devoted reader, B. VY. R.


STUTTGART, GERMANY.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little German girl-that
is to say, I was born in London and lived there till I was
eleven, when we came here. I have read your nice
magazine with Inuch pleasure, and enjoy reading the
stories very much. I especially like "A Boy of thle
First Empire," "June's Garden," and Master Skylark."
I also enjoy your lovely illustrations, especially those of
Varian, Birch, and Relyea. As I. draw a great deal my-
self, I often copy them, especially the horses, as I'like to
draw them best. I read with much interest the letter by
Margaret Hitchcock, as I hate bearing-reins (as they
are called in England). I have also read "Black
Beauty," which is my favorite book; besides that, I have
five other books about horses. I do as much as I can
to make people leave off using bearing-reins. I have
already written about it to a great many people, known
and unknown.
I belong to a 'children's society in England,- called
"The Children's Order of Chivalry," which has a de-
partment called Companions, edited by Mr. Sambrook.
This appears every month in the weekly agricultural pa-
per of Lord Winchelsea called The Cable. TThe Cable
I once wrote a letter about bearing-reins, and I received
a great many interesting answers. I hope it will soon
get out of fashion, as it tortures the poor creatures so;
it is especially tightly used in London, which is a great
shame, I think. We used to have horses in England too,
and they never had one.
It is very pretty in Stuttgart, as it is surrounded on all
sides with hills covered with vineyards and woods;
there are lovely woods here, into which we often take
walks. We have a little dog called" Waldmann," of which
we are all very fond. He is a "dachshund," as they
call them here; once he nearly caught a hare in the
woods. He is very watchful and a dear little fellow.
Now I must close, as I still have to do my lessons; be-
sides, I will' tire you with so much news about an un-
known little reader.
Your constant reader and admirer,
SOPHIE EISENLOHR (age 13).


ERIE, PA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: On my birthday all my Brownies
came to dinner. My mama called it a "Brownie Ban-
quet." In the center of the table there was a high
dish with paper flowers on it, and paper Brownies peep-
ing out around the flowers; there was a plaster-jointed
Brownie at the bottom of the dish, inside of the standard,
looking through the glass.
For dinner we had roast duck, brown bread, Brownie
and graham crackers, brown cookies, candy, and choco-
late ice-cream, because it was brown. There were rib-
bons from the chandelier coming down to each corner
of the table, and they were brown and white, with little
packages of brown candy, wrapped up in brown papers,
with Brownies printed on them, and pinned on to the
ribbon. These were our favors.
Yours truly, WALTER A. CRANCH.


KEOKUK, IOWA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: .We have been very much dis-
appointed in our spring vacation this year, for it has
rained all the week, and we have found it hard to find


something to do. But at last we hit upon the brilliant
idea of having a theatre.
Of course you all have been to the play and know
what fun it is, but perhaps you don't all know what fun
it is to go on the stage yourself.
The usual difficulty m this game is the want of cos-
tumes, scenery, and so on. Costumes can easily be
cooked up out of old clothes, and scenery is almost as
easy. In a forest scene, I remember, we had the old
Christmas tree without its ornaments, and some pine
boughs. It really looked quite natural. A darkened
stage with chains' hanging about makes a cell, a few
flower-pots and garden-seats, a fine garden, and a curtain
with a hole in it, and the leading lady on a stepladder
behind, makes a window, underneath which any number
of serenades may be sung.
But some may have more trouble with the curtain
than with anything else.
Of course it will be easy to make it slide on a rod or
string, but that's not always just right. It 's so much
better to have the curtain rise.
We fix ours with a slanting row of rings from the
lower right hand corner to the upper left hand one (or
the other way) and run a string through them. You
must be sure to have the string strong enough to bear
the weight of the curtain, or it will break and the cur-
tain will come down. Then if you tie the string together
the knot will catch in one of the rings.
There are small accidents that always happen, such as
losing love-letters, daggers, or poison, at the last min-
ute; actors failing to appear when their time comes, and
so on. Hoping that the readers of ST. NICHOLAS will
discover what fun it is to act,
I am, DIANA ASHBURNHAM.


A MIXED-UP FARM YARD.
MOTHER: "What does the cow say, baby dear ?"
BABY: "Meow, meow."
MOTHER : "What does the cat say, baby?"
BABY: Moo, moo."
MOTHER: "What does the horse say? "
BABY: "Bow, wow, wow."
MOTHER: "What does the dog say ?"
BABY: "Neigh, neigh."
MOTHER: "And what does Baby say ? "
BABY: "Tick tock."
MOTHER: "And what does the clock say, clever
child?"
BABY: "Boohoo, boohoo! "
DOROTHY JENKS.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: A dear friend you have been
to us "ever since I was a little girl."
I am sorry I am a little girl no longer; but I thank
you for remembering me every month, just as if I were,
and for the delightful visits I have from you.
I am much "interested" in that boy and monkey of
"A Winter Evening Problem," in the February number.
I have propounded the problems at dinner, to older
and wiser heads, and both old and young have enjoyed
the merriment from the mental perplexity that always
follows.
I argue it in this way:
If, as is stated by the "school boy," the monkey keeps
his face toward the boy, the monkey's natural position
on the pole, would be, as illustrated, on the opposite side of
the pole to the boy! If the monkey is on the opposite
side of the pole to the boy, and moves as the boy moves,
so that they retain that position toward each other, of
course the boy does not go around the monkey, but both


877





THE LETTER-BOX.


monkey and boy go around the pole -the pole being be-
tween the monkey and the boy. It might as well be a
house between them, around which both are going, it
seems to me.
If the monkey is on the same side of the pole on which
the boy is, but manages to twist his face around toward
the boy, and retains that position toward the boy, they
go around the pole together and at the same time.
If you try to go around a house, and the house starts
and moves with you, so that you see but one side of the
house, you have not been around the house. The house
has turned around on its foundation, and you have walked
around its foundation, with the house as it moved.
Or, if two jockeys are riding their trotters about a
race-course, and the two horses keep "neck and neck"
(although the one may make the extreme inner circle,
and the other the extreme outer circle of the track, yet
if one keeps opposite the other, if they move together),
will they not both have gone around the track, but
neither around the other?
If a platform, circular in shape, was placed at the top
of the pole, and the monkey walked on the extreme edge
of the platform, and the boy described a smaller circle
below, and they kept apace, could the monkey be said to
walk around the boy ?
P. S. It just occurs to me: The circle that the boy
describes goes around the pole with the small one the
monkey describes in his struggles to keep opposite the
boy; and, after the boy's manly and conquering foot-
steps have formed the outer circle, that circle is around
the inner circle of the monkey's maneuvers, and around
the monkey.
But the boy did not conquer the monkey-the mon-
key faced him, and the monkey had the boy at, an advan-
tage; he was above the boy, in thought and action that
- time.
If you walk around a mountain, you may walk at its
summit or at its base. But if the summit of that moun-
tain decides to turn on its center, and you walk around
its base, while the summit turns with you, you have not
walked around the summit, have you?
It seems to me the boy did not go around the monkey.
Humbly your friend,
ELINA RUTH HUBBARD.

MAY we suggest to our bright correspondent that the
solution to the puzzle lies in the words walked around ?
This phrase may mean either described a path about,"
or was upon all sides of"; and as we take one mean-
ing or the other in the different cases suggested, we shall
decide that the boy has or has not walked around the
monkey. In other words, the puzzle is really a "catch"
or play upon words.

We print with pleasure three poems written by a
young friend of ST. NICHOLAS, Miss Florence R. Lang-
worthy. The poems were written when the author was
thirteen years of age.

"I AM WELL."
AH, good morning, Jones; how are you, pray tell ?"
"Thanks, Mr. Smith; I am well- very well.
But there 's a stitch in the small of my back,
I 've a sore foot where I stepped on a tack,
And I must confess that both my ears ache,
And then my head feels as though it would break;
I broke my arm as I slipped on the floor,
And then bumped my shin on a nail in the door;
And I made my neck stiff by a bad fall;
My stomach is n't in order at all;


My cold has made me as hoarse as a crow,
So I 'm prescribed for wherever I go;
I had a very bad toothache last night,
So my cheek 's swelled as though I 'd had a fight.
Aside from these, which are too small to tell,
I 'm well, Mr. Smith; exceedingly well! "

ARBOR DAY.
COME, children, come,
Sing a merry lay;
For it is spring,
And 't is Arbor Day.
Chorus:
Sing, children, sing,
For it is spring;
Sing, children, sing
This Arbor Day.
Children, be glad,
For birds now have come,
And flowerets
To perfume our home.
Chorus.
Come, children, come;
To the woods we '11 go-
Yes, to the woods
Where the flowers grow.
Chorus.
Sing, children, sing;
Oh, happy are we
That spring has come!
Let us thankful be.

HOW SAD!
'T Is sad to see our hopes depart,
Our earthly treasures go;
But sadder still it is to see
My dear, sweet papa mow.


LINDA VISTA TERRACE, OAKLAND, CAL.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We have taken your magazine
for about four or five years. We all enjoy it very much.
I have a little canary bird that we call Jennie."
One night about nine years ago, my oldest sister was
looking out of the window when she saw what she
thought was a little white dove in a tree. My papa
went out and caught it, and found it was a little yellow
canary bird. He brought it in, and ever since it has
been a great pet in the family. It does so many tricks
that I must tell you about them. It loves to play house
with us. It will lie in a bed and pretend to be asleep.
When we say, "Wake up," it will kick off the covers
and jump up. It jumps over a stick, and will lie in my
hand and pretend to be dead.
Your little friend, FLORENCE TAYLOR.

WE thank the young friends whose names follow for
pleasant letters received: Isabel M. Gates, Arthur P.
Payson, L. G. C., Louise "C. A. T.," S. C. H., Mari-
etta Edwards, Jack Rose Troup, May Stone, Noel B.
Van Wagenen, Eva Louise Notingham, Swift Trow,
John P. Reynolds, Dorothy Green, Francis Bayard
Rives, Gerald S. Couzens, Ethel P. Slocum, Hanford B.,
Elsie B. M., Willie Walker, Florence Taibot, Rhoda E.
Peter, Arthur Betts, Elizabeth Johnston, Jack Miller,
Frances C. Reed, Ethel Land, Vera Ingram, Edith E.
Maxon, Helen S. Lawrason, Felice Marshall Safford.





















ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE JULY NUMBER.
PATRIOTIC PRIMAL ACROSTIC. Fourth of July. I. Franchise. DOUBLE ACROSTIC. Primals, Telegraph; finals, Telephone.
2. Oppressio 3Uni. 3 Union. 4. Revolution. 5. Tory. 6. "Heathen Cross-words: i. Tablet. 2. Endure. 3. Lawful. 4. Empire. 5.
Chinee." 7. Office. 8. Flag. 9. Justice. so United States. Gossip. 6. Relish. 7. Albino. 8. Prison. 9. Haggle.
ii. Liberty. x2. Yankee. CHARADE. Troubadour.
HEXAGONS. I. From I to 2, bye; 3 to 4, love; 5 to 7, avail; ILLUSTRATED PRIMAL ACROSTIC. Hancock,-John and Win.
8 to 9, hart; ro to ii, bee. II. From I to 2, cut; 3 to 4, duos; 5 field Scott. Horn. 2. Acorn. 3. Nut 4. Canoe. 5. Obelisk.
to 7, sheet; 8 to 9, iron; xo to ix, e'er. 6. Coat. 7. Kangaroo.
RIDDLE. A table. COUNTRIES IN DISGUISE. Turkey, Hungary, Samoa, Sandwich
PROGRESSIVE NUMERICAL ENIGMAS. I. Father. 2. Handsome. Isles, Chili, New Zealand, Cape of Good Hope, Roumania, Wales,
3. Together. 4. Pleasure. 5. China. 6. Forget. 7. Season. 8. Ireland, Tunis, Greece, Ashantee, Queensland.
Abandon. 9. Hatred. io. Target. A FLIGHT OF STAIRS. I. Car. 2. Carrot. 3. Rotten. 4. Ten-
DIAMOND. I. D. 2. Car. 3. Nahum. 4. Calabar. 5. Daha- der. 5. Dermal. 6. Malaga. 7. Agaric. 8. Richer. 9. Her-
biyeh. 6. Rubicon. 7. Mayor. 8. Ren(t). 9. H. mit. xo. Mitten. cx. Tendon. 12. Donate. 13. Ate.
DIAGONALS. I. Holly: I. Hotel. 2 Rough. 3. Filly. 4. NOVEL HOUR-GLASS. From I to 9, Telephone; ro to 07, Audi-
Folly. 5. Rally. II. Fruit: I. Fancy. 2. Arabs. 3. Abuse. 4. phone. Cross-words: I. Telephone. 2. Environ. 3. Limbo. 4.
Cubit. 5. Sweet. Eph. 5. P. 6. Ich. 7. Ditto. 8. Unicorn. 9. Audiphone.
To OUR PUZZLERS: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the 15th of each month, and
should be addressed to ST. NICHOLAS "Riddle-box," care of THE CENTURY CO., 33 East Seventeenth St., New York City.
ANSWERS TO ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE MAY NUMBER were received, before May i5th, from G. B. Dyer-W. L.- Josephine
Sherwood Walter and Eleanor Furman-" Class No. 09 "- Louise Ingham Adams "The Buffalo Quartette "- Mabel M. Johns -
" Four Weeks in Kane -Madeline, Mabel, and Henri- Katharine S. Doty Sigourney Fay Nininger- Nessie and Freddie.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE MAY NUMBER were received before May I5th, from Francis Tack, I -Mary B. Smith, i Mary Ta-
ber, 2-We, Us, and Co., 8 Helen C. Gross, i Bessie and Cornwall, 2 Irwin Tucker, x W. A. K., I Spooks," 2 Margaret
D. Latta, I Margaret Lyall, i- Blanche Shoemaker, i Florence Freiler, Thomas Ellis Robins, 2- Kent Shaffer, --Alma L.
Knapp, --Wm. K. Dart, 3 Elizabeth W., 6 -D. H. D., I-- "Honor Bright," 3- John W. Brotherton, 3--John de Koven Bowen,
2 Arthur and Posie, 3 Gertrude Brown, i- Queen Mab," 2-" Jersey Quartette," to "Two Little Brothers," o1 Mary Helen
Lynch, i- Marston Boughner, 2 Rhoda E. Peter, 2 Vera M. Freeman, Two Little Sisters," -- Marion Hackett, 4 G. G."
and Caroline, 8 John P. Reynolds, 3rd, Allil and Adi, 0o- "V. V. V.," 2- Minnie Armhns, 3- Frederick G. Foster, 2 The
Duet," 7 -" Big Headed," 3 Marion E. Larkspur, 3 -Ada M. Burt, 6- Marjorie V. Smith, 2 Sumner Ford, Theodora B. Dennis,
7 Rikki-tikki-tavi," 4- "Femci," 7 Thistle," 3-Emily Foster, 3 -Margaret Buckley, 2 "Firenze," 4- Roderick A. Dor-
man, x Paul Reese, zo The Trio," 8 Howard B. Peterson, so E. Everett, Uncle Will, and Fannie, 7 -Truda G. Vroom, 5-
Grace Levy, so -Jo and I, io -Winnifred Hanns, 4 Marguerite Sturdy, 8- Ermyntrude," 2 Mary E. Meares, i- C. D. Lauer
Co.," 1o- Belle Miller Waddell, 1o- Helen and Louise A. Little, 3- Howard Lothrop, xo- The Bright Puzzlers," 9- Clara A.
Anthony, 9 Florence and Edna, 7 Daniel Hardin and Co., 9 Helen S. Grant, i.


WORD-SQUARE.

I. A MASCULINE nickname. 2. To roam. 3. Level.
4. A deep mark. NICHOLAS C. BLEECKER.

OMITTED FRUITS.

D ..... D.
IF a certain fruit you place
Between these letters, in the space
Where you see a line that 's dotted,
You will always find it spotted.

S.... s.
If a fruit is placed aright

'Twixt these letters, for the fight
You will be well armed, and so,
It would seem, will be your foe.
E. R. BURNS.

AN ANAGRAM STORY.
(I) TERICABE'S (2) DOYHLIA.
ONE bright summer day Mr. (3) Sandvoid walked
into the (4) clorohomos and said to his (5) hatgerud,
" Tericabe, would you like to take a doyhlia and go with
me to the (6) pemidphoro? "


"Oh, yes, indeed," was the reply. "I will get my
(7) quaces and be ready at once."
"Very well," said the (8) tannelmeg, and take a (9)
slafoar with you; I have an (Io) aulmerlb, so we will
be prepared, whatever the (ii) hawtree may be.
They started off with (12) tenrimmerand (13) thulrage,
and after a short (14) rujenyo they came to the femid-
phoro. It was in a large (15) lignbiud and Tericabe was
a little (I6)fetherding when the (17) sailman roared.
And, too, there were so many on (18) teniboxihi that it
seemed like (19) hintgader a (20) nylrbhiat.
But Mr. Sandvoid only (21) hagudle, and said it was
(22) ubosivo his hadgerut was a (23) yeeknotp.
After a (24) looqucyl with one of the (25) tedtantans,
he told Tericabe that the (26) soollsac (27) ornieschorwas
the largest ever (28) hurtbog to this (29) yurnoct, and
as the (30) hertbad of the (31) ruetrace was (32) moon-
sure, Tericabe could well believe the (33) tststsiaci.
After they had seen all the (34) dunflower (35) beisixth,
they took their places to behold the (36) campoferren,
and such (37) salvorumne feats did the (38) scotarab per-
form that Tericabe almost (39) demraces out in (40) mix-
ettence.
In the (41) vinegen there was a (42) thoncyprice dis-
play, and the (43) spelwhine and (44) creskot afforded a
great (45) paulreccast feast. Mr. Sandvoid (46) ende-
raws all Tericabe's (47) tinquosse with (48) capiteen, and
they went home with (49) lastepan (50) rommesie of their
doyhlia. CAROLYN WELLS.
79






THE RIDDLE-BOX.


RIDDLE.

IT is sleek, and it 's lithe, and it rubs round your knee;
It swims, and it also sails over the sea;
It warbles and trills in the top of the tree;
Sometimes it has one tail, sometimes it has nine;
Come, tell me the name of this strange beast of mine.
L. E. JOHNSON.

ILLUSTRATED DIAGONAL.


An incorporated town. 8. To unite. 9. Frisks. Io.
A full suit of defensive armor. II. One who ponders
studiously. I2. Wonderful. 13. A small anchor. 14.
A layer. 15. Evaded. 16. Part of an arrow. 17. To
exasperate. J. M. c.
CHARADE.
WITHOUT my first the clergy would despair;
Without it where were conscience? self-control?
Consistency? contrition of the soul?
Yet, but for it, conversion, I declare,
Were a translation. Blind of heart, beware!
Behold the swine in second, "cheek by jowl";
Or else recall the saying, quaint and droll-
"It 's in your eye," and look for second there.
'T is but a step to third, for it is, too.
Shun fourth! shun fourth / yet do not ask me why.
Is thy whole broken? Then I pity thee.
Thou may'st repair; thou canst not make anew.
Oh, whole! for thee well might brave freemen die,
Thou guardian of our priceless liberty.
T. F. COLLIER.
DIAMOND.
1. IN ST. NICHOLAS. 2. An imposition. 3. The
chief of the fallen angels. 4. Certain fruits. 5. A kind
of raft or float. 6. Administered. 7. The nostrils. 8.
Downcast. 9. In ST. NICHOLAS. E. C. W.
ANAGRAM ACROSTIC.
WHEN each of the six following groups of letters has
been correctly rearranged, it will form one word; and
when these six words have been written one below an-
other, in the order here given, the initial letters will form
a word meaning to respond,'and the fiial letters will
form a word meaning to yield.
I. Heanort. 2. Taraner. 3. Schalet. 4. Cemowle.
5. Aserten. 6. Precite. H. W. E.
DIAMONDS CONNECTED BY A SQUARE.


Pee
Pe
* 'Pe
.CPP
Pe


ALL the words pictured contain the same number o"
letters. When rightly guessed and placed one below the
other, in the order numbered, the diagonal (from the
upper left-hand letter to the lower right-hand letter) will
spell the name of a man who won a famous victory early
in the present century.

PROGRESSIVE NUMERICAL ENIGMA.
AN 1-2-3-4-5-6 1-2 3-4-5-6, 4-5-6 I 2-3-4-5-6-7-8
no one when I say that a person born and bred in New
Yorkis an 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8. ANNA M. PRATT.

CENTRAL ACROSTIC.
ALL of the words described contain the same number
of letters. When rightly guessed, and placed one below
another, the central letters will spell the name of a very
famous man.
CROSSWORDS: I. Signification. 2. A geometrical
figure. 3. To answer. 4. Inflicted. 5. A very great
number. 6. One who holds erroneous opinions. 7.


I. UPPER DIAMOND: I. In tragical. 2. A couch.
3. Ruins. 4. Middle. 5. A county of England. 6.
To utter. 7. In tragical.
II. LEFT-HAND DIAMOND: I. In tragical. 2. Cun-
ning. 3. Fright. 4. Step by step.. 5. A very de-
sirable card. 6. A chart. 7. In tragical.
III. CENTRAL SQUARE: I. Large bundles of goods.
2. An old word meaning "to let fall." 3. A large
basin. 4. The French word for "pupil." 5. Withers.
IV. RIGHT-HAND DIAMOND: I. In tragical. 2. A
weight. 3. A body of soldiers. 4. A barnyard fowl.
5. One who takes notice. 6. By. 7. In tragical.
V. LOWER DIAMOND: I. In tragical. 2. A veryopen
fabric. 3. A Roman historian. 4. To fold again. 5.
To warm thoroughly. 6. To rest. 7. In tragical.
ROGER HOYT AND FRED KELSEY.


I THE DE VINNE PRESS, NEW YORK.


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