Front Cover
 The little maid of Domremy
 The cat and the countess
 The first cucumber
 The expression of rooms
 Seven miles up in the air
 The pepper-owl
 "See, saw, Marjorie Daw!"
 A frog and his neighbors
 The old saw-mill
 Wise Mrs. Swallow
 The boy emigrants
 A June morning lesson
 Willie's wonderful flight
 Mabel's maids
 The author of "The boy emigran...
 What kittikin said to the kitten...
 Violets (music and words)
 Young contributors' department
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover

Title: St. Nicholas.
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00035
 Material Information
Title: St. Nicholas.
Alternate Title: Saint Nicholas
Physical Description: 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Publisher: Scribner,
Publication Date: -c1943.
Subject: Children's literature
Literature for Children
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: VID00035
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: notis - ocm0176
oclc - 7405657; (DLC)SF 89099153
oclc - (DLC) 2006255186; 55136171

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    The little maid of Domremy
        Page 473
        Page 474
        Page 475
    The cat and the countess
        Page 476
        Page 477
        Page 478
        Page 479
        Page 480
        Page 481
        Page 482
        Page 483
        Page 484
    The first cucumber
        Page 485
    The expression of rooms
        Page 486
        Page 487
        Page 488
    Seven miles up in the air
        Page 489
        Page 490
        Page 491
    The pepper-owl
        Page 492
        Page 493
        Page 494
        Page 495
    "See, saw, Marjorie Daw!"
        Page 496
        Page 497
    A frog and his neighbors
        Page 498
        Page 499
        Page 500
        Page 501
        Page 502
        Page 503
    The old saw-mill
        Page 504
        Page 505
        Page 506
    Wise Mrs. Swallow
        Page 507
    The boy emigrants
        Page 508
        Page 509
        Page 510
        Page 511
        Page 512
        Page 513
        Page 514
        Page 515
        Page 516
        Page 517
        Page 518
        Page 519
        Page 520
    A June morning lesson
        Page 521
    Willie's wonderful flight
        Page 522
    Mabel's maids
        Page 523
    The author of "The boy emigrants"
        Page 524
        Page 525
        Page 526
        Page 527
    What kittikin said to the kitten in the looking-glass
        Page 528
        Page 529
    Violets (music and words)
        Page 530
    Young contributors' department
        Page 531
        Page 532
    The letter-box
        Page 533
        Page 534
    The riddle-box
        Page 535
        Page 536
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text



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'*i-i-jX-'l*'i -:* :



JUNE, 1876.



IT is more than four hundred and fifty years,
since, in the village of Domremy on the river
Meuse, was born a little girl to whom they gave the
name of Jeanne (in English, Joan or Jane). It is
probable that her father, a poor and respectable
peasant, was named Dare. Later, when the little
girl had grown famous, people altered the name'and
called her Jeanne d'Arc (of Arc), which is as though
one of you should be called Kate of Rochester, or
Lucy of Minneapolis. France was not then the rich
and powerful country which it has since become.
For a long time it had been governed or mis-
governed by a king who was insane, and first one
party and then another, getting tired of his rule,
had thrown it off, so that the nation was in a state
-of civil war. We know, from our own experience,
what a sad and bad thing civil war is. Then, besides
civil war, France had to contend also with an out-
side enemy, for the English, who were always
fighting with France in those days, had sent a
large army across the Channel, and captured many
important French towns. Mrs. Oliphant told you
something of these times in her "Windsor" paper
of last month. Some of the people thought they
would like to be ruled by the English, and offered
the crown to the English king, Henry V., who ac-
cepted it gladly, and had, first himself, and then
his little son, crowned kings of France. The rest
of the nation were angry at this, and refused to
acknowledge any king but their own. Great quar-
reling and bloodshed followed and went on for
years; the people were heavily taxed, the fields
remained untilled, there was famine and scarcity
of all sorts, and the poor suffered greatly.
It was in the midst of .these unhappy times that
Jeanne was born, and grew to be, first a hardy lit-
VOL. III.-32.

tle girl, and then a vigorous maiden, with a noble,
beautiful face, though its expression was thought-
ful and sad. She had a rough, hard life, working
in the fields and caring for the farm animals; and
when feeding the oxen or tending the sheep in the
dim twilight, she had plenty of time to think of the
miseries amid which she lived. The peasants in
that part of the country used to repeat an old
prophecy that France, in her time of deepest dis-
tress, would be saved by a maiden. Nobody knew
who made the prophecy, but every one believed it,
for those were superstitious days, and people put
great faith in legends and old sayings. There were
no books and newspapers, as there are now, to
make persons wide-awake and intelligent. Jeanne
believed with the rest. And when she felt sad and
hopeless at the sufferings she saw and the worse
sufferings she heard about, she thought a great
deal about this prophecy, and wondered when the
wonderful maiden would come to aid them. For
surely," thought she, "France can never be worse
off than she is now, with the wicked English having
their own way everywhere, and our poor king shut
up like a prisoner in his own land."
She dwelt so much upon these things that at
last it seemed to her that a voice spoke, whether
from within or without she could not be sure, and
said that she was the maiden appointed to save the
land from its troubles. Just then the crazy king
died, and his son, Charles VII., a young man of
twenty, succeeded to the throne. It was a misera-
ble inheritance truly, for few acknowledged his
authority, and he was too poor to pay for soldiers,
who in those days were always to be had for pay.
He and the little army which he contrived to get
together, fought two or three times with the Eng-


No. 8.


lish and were beaten, and at last the only important
city left him, the city of Orleans, was closely be-
sieged by the enemy. For months it held out,
but little by little the foe gained, till it became
evident that before long Orleans would be forced
to yield, and with it would go the last hope of the
royal family of France.
Jeanne Darc was eighteen years old at this time,
and the "voices" which had been speaking to her
for five years were growing each day louder and
calling her to do something, she knew not what, to
save the country. At last she became so certain of
her divine mission that she could keep silent no
longer, and she persuaded her uncle to take her to
Baudricourt, one of the king's officers, who was
governor of the town of Vancouleurs. To him
she explained about the voices, and begged him to
send her to the king, promising that if he would do
so she would raise the siege of Orleans, and that
the king, in less than three months, should be
crowned in the city of Rheims, which was at that
time fast held by the English. The governor did
not believe in her a bit at first, but matters had got
so desperate that he was willing to try anything, so
at last he sent Jeanne to Chinon, where the king
was residing.
It must have been a singular sight, Jeanne in her
simple peasant's garb in the midst of the gay court.
But she was too much in earnest to think about
herself or be frightened. The king stood among
the other gentlemen, dressed exactly like them,
but Jeanne went straight up and knelt before him
without a moment's hesitation, which surprised
everybody very much.
So eloquent was she, so full of enthusiasm and
confidence in her own powers, that the king and
his counselors believed in her at once. They gave
her a suit of armor and a horse, which she knew
very well how to manage, for she had often ridden
the horses to water in Domremy. When they
fetched the sword which belonged to her armor,
she rejected it, and begged them to send to the
Church of St. Catherine of Fierbois, where, buried
in the ground, would be found a consecrated sword
which it was meant she should carry. They did so,
and, sure enough, the sword was discovered just
as she had said, which made people believe in her
more than ever. Thus equipped, with a white
banner in her hand, she took command of ten
thousand troops headed by the brave Dunois, and
marched straight to Orleans. The news of this
wonderful event spread everywhere. The Eng-
lish, who were as superstitious as the French, took
fright. Whele regiments deserted "for fear of
the Mayde," for there is nothing like supersti-
tion to make cowards even of brave men. Jeanne's
.own soldiers, fired by her noble courage, fought as

if inspired. In less than a week the siege of
Orleans was raised, and the enemy in full retreat.
Other battles followed, in all of which Jeanne was;
victorious. Rheims was given up without a blow,
and there, in three months from the time of
Jeanne's first appearance at the court, Charles was
solemnly crowned, king,-the "Maid of Orleans,"
as she was now called, standing beside him in full
armor, with her white banner in her hand! She
had kept her promise, and the work was done.
When the coronation was over, she knelt down
before the throne and prayed the king to let her
go back again to Domremy and tend her sheep.
The voices which had led her so far, promised
nothing beyond this day. She desired to return.
to her simple life, and be plain Jeanne Darc again,
as she was before these great things came to pass.
But the king would not consent. He and the
army had learned to look upon the Mayde" as
an inspired being, and they insisted that she could
not be spared till all the English were driven across
the sea. So Jeanne staid, though unwillingly. I
wish they had let her go back to peaceful Dom-
remy; then I should not have to tell of the sad and
painful ending of her story.
For nothing went well with her or with the army
that she led, from that day. She had ceased to.
believe in herself, and that is a fatal thing. More
than once they were beaten, and at last, at the
siege of Paris, Jeanne was wounded, dragged from
her horse, and taken prisoner by a Frenchman,
who, to his shame, afterward sold her for a sum
of money to her mortal foes, the English. By the
laws of military honor, she should have been re-
garded as a prisoner of war. But the English,
who were all the more cruel because they had
once been afraid of her, preferred to' consider her
as a sorceress, and called a court together to try
her as such. The French king was too selfish
and cowardly to interfere, and without a friend to
help or advise her, deserted by the monarch she
had served and the nation she had saved, poor
Jeanne was left to her fate.
Poor, simple girl, puzzled and terrified, she
could neither understand nor answer the charges
they brought against her. When she told with
simple truthfulness the story of the voices which
had spoken to her in the fields, and bidden her go
forth to find the king, they scoffed at her, and
said that nobody but the devil would have any-
thing to say to a sorceress. Weary, confused,
and heart-sick, she even doubted herself at last,
and when they brought a paper which stated that
she had lied in claiming a mission from Heaven,
and had purposely deceived people, she signed it,
hoping that they would spare her life and let her go
free. Her persecutors were sorry that .she signed,




for what they wanted was an excuse to kill her.
They were afraid to let her live, lest she should
escape from them, and the French army rally
round her again. It is never difficult to make an
excuse when the strong desire to oppress the weak.
They put a suit of armor in her room, and took
away all her other clothes, and when the poor girl,
not knowing what else to do, put on the armor,
they declared that this was a sign that she took
back her confession, and accordingly condemned
her to be burned alive as a witch. It was a cruel
and cowardly thing, but cruelty is always cowardice.
So in the market-place of Rouen, surrounded
by a great crowd of priests and soldiers, Jeanne
Dare was burned at the stake on the last day of
May, 1431. The Seine carried her ashes down to
the sea. She was patient and courageous to the
last; and though her face was covered with tears,
her constancy never wavered. She kept her eyes
fixed on the crucifix, and, when the flames rose
up about her, was heard to murmur, "God be
blessed! "
So ended the wonderful life of the sweet maid
of Domremy. The market-place in Rouen where
she suffered is still called the Place de la Pu-
celle," or "The Place of the Maiden," and on the

spot where the stake was erected stands a bronze
statue of Jeanne in armor, holding her conse-
crated banner. The shame of her death lies heav-
ily on all who took part in it; on the Frenchman
who gave her up, the English who slew her, and
the weak young king who did nothing to aid or
avenge her, and who allowed ten years to go by
before he reversed the verdict by which she was
condemned, and proclaimed her the heroine and
martyr which she undoubtedly was.
Better things than these, however, can be said
about our Jeanne. Heroism and martyrdom are
great, but to live purely and worthily is greater
still. The character of the maid of Domremy was
spotless. She was distinguished for her innocence
and modesty; her hand never shed blood, and the
gentle dignity of her manner inspired respect in
all who came near her, and even restrained the
violence of her rough soldiers. She did what we
must call unwomanly things, but she did them at
the call of duty, and in a truly womanly spirit, full
of purity, self-sacrifice, and patience. So we, who
live so many hundreds of years after, can afford
to love as well as admire her, which we could not
have done had she merely dreamed dreams and
won battles.

IF a pretty fairy should come to me,
And ask: "What thing would you like to be?"
I'd say: "On the whole,
I will be a mole."
Oh, that would be just the thing for me !
I'd go straight down, and not care a fig
What squirming things in the ground I'd meet;
For if I were a mole, I'd dig and dig
Till my nose should tickle the Chinamen's feet!




(Translaed from the French of M;: BnDOLLIERRE.)




E lost sight of Moumouth
at the moment when, pre-
cipitated from the para-
pet of the bridge of Notre
S Dame, he found himself
struggling in the water.
Luckily for him, the
piles of the principal arch
had a wide ledge, to which he was able to attach
himself. From this place he cast a glance around
him. The Seine appeared to him a boundless ocean,
which it was beyond. his strength to cross; rather
than attempt to reach the shores that seemed to
recede before him, he prepared to stay where he
was, at the risk of perishing with hunger or cold,
or being swept away by a wave. He mewed at first
in sign of distress, but very soon, believing him-
self hopelessly lost, he judged it useless to tire his
lungs, and awaited the end with a resignation which
formed the basis of his character.
Toward five o'clock in the morning, two gentle-
men from the island of Saint-Louis, -two very
skillful amateur fishermen,-came to throw their
lines from the top of the bridge of Notre Dame..

"You are early, neighbor Guignolet," said the
person who arrived last; it appears that we have
both had the same idea."

S"And we have done well,neighbor Groque-
mouche; there was a rise in the river last night,
great numbers of fish have descended from the
upper Seine, and one will have to be dreadfully
awkward not to take them."
"Will you enter into an agreement, neighbor
Guignolet ? Let
us fish in partner-
ship, divide the
catch, and dine
together to-day."
"Agreed!" said
M. Guignolet, and
as each held his
line in his right
hand, they clasped
their left hands
together in token
of the treaty.
On seeing the
two cords descend, '
Moumouth con-
ceived some hope.
As soon as they .1 "-11
were within his ''' l!i
reach he grappled '
them, and the fish-
ermen, feeling the unusual weight, cried out with
one voice, "A bite! a bite !" and hastened to haul
in their lines.
"I bet I have caught a wattle," said M. Guigno-
let, regretting that he could n't rub his hands to-
gether to testify his satisfaction.
"I must have an immense carp," replied M.
Groquemouche. He had scarcely finished the sen-
tence when Moumouth leaped over the parapet.
"Treason!" cried the two fishers, who started
in pursuit of the quadruped that had come so
miraculously out of the water; but Moumouth ran
faster than they did and easily escaped them.
When he was alone, he took breath, examined
the houses, and, not finding one that resembled
his, naturally concluded that it was not there. It
was necessary, however, to find shelter; shivering
with cold and panting with his exertions, he could
not remain a moment longer in the street without
exposing himself to an inflammation of the chest.
Guided by a light, he made his way into the base-
ment of a baker's shop, and, hiding himself behind
a pile of bread-baskets, went quietly to sleep.
He was awakened by hunger.






Moumouth was born of poor parents, who had
abandoned him in his earliest infancy; he had been
brought up in the streets, obliged to procure his
own living, and trained in the school of adversity.
Thus he was very skillful in the art of catching rats
and mice,-a useful art, too often neglected by cats
belonging to the first families.
He placed, himself on the watch, and surprised a
mouse that had stolen out of its hole to eat some
flour. He dropped
upon the impru-
dent mouse, in de-
scribing what .is
called in geometry
a parabola, and
seized it by the
nose, to prevent it
from crying out.
This feat, although -.
performed with ad-
dress and in silence,
attracted the attention of the baker's boy. Hi!
a cat! cried the apprentice, arming himself with
a scoop.
The master-baker turned his eyes toward Mou-

stooping down to gent-
ly caress Moumouth;
C" eat as many mice as
Possible, there will al-
ways be enough left."
SOur cat profited by
the permission accord-
ed to him, and, having
satisfied his hunger, had
a desire to set out in
search of the mansion
of Madam de la Gre-
T. nouillere; but the ba-
ker barred the passage.
"Wait a minute he said. I wanted a good
cat; Heaven sent me one, and I shall not forgive
myself if I let him escape. Hulloo Jacques, shut
up all the openings, and if this rogue makes a
show of running off,
give him three or four
smart' blows with the
Thus the host of I
Moumouth became his
tyrant; so true is it I
that personal interest
depraves the best na-
tures. Our cat, as if
comprehending what
was passing, leaped i
without hesitation up-
on the shoulders of .
the baker's boy, and MOUMOUTH JUMPS OUT OF THE
thence into the street. WINDOW.
There a new danger awaited him. Surprised
by this unexpected apparition, an enormous bull-
dog planted himself directly in front of Mou-
mouth. Moumouth had a lively desire to avoid
an unequal contest; but the dog kept an eye
on him, and did not lose one of his movements,


mouth, saw him devouring the mouse, and said to
the boy:
"Don't hurt him; he is doing us a service."
But where did he come from ?"
"What does that matter, provided he is useful
here? answered the baker, who was a man of in-
telligence. Eat, eat, my friend," he continued,

going to the right when Moumouth went to the
left, and to the' lft when Moumouth itioved to the




right, and growled all the while in a malicious
fashion. For an instant they stood motionless, ob-
serving each other,-the dog with paws extended,
teeth displayed, and body drawn back, and the cat
with open mouth, his back arched and his head
thrust forward.
Neither seemed disposed to begin hostilities.
Finally the dog rushed upon his adversary, who
avoided him adroitly, passed underneath him, and
fled in the direction of the quay, the bull-dog
giving chase. Away they went, darting among
the crowd of pedestrians and in and out between
the carriages. In a natural spirit of imitation, the
wandering dogs that encountered- them running

and scrambles to the top of the wall. He is soon
beyond the reach of the dogs, but he is not yet
in safety; if he makes a false step, if his strength
gives out, if the plaster crumbles under his claws,
twenty yawning mouths.
hungry for slaughter,
are there to tear him to

In the meanwhile,
Mother Michel had
passed the night in lam-
entation. She could not
control her grief for the MOTHER MICHEL LAMENTS.
loss of Moumouth; she
called him continually in a plaintive voice, and-if
we may credit the popular song-the neighbors
heard her cry at the window : Who will bring him
back to me?"
The next morning, at the rising of the smiling
sun, the perfidious Lustucru presented himself
before Mother Michel in order to say to her:
"Well, my dear companion, have you found
him ? "
"Alas, no!" she murmured. "Have you any
news of him?"
"Nothing positive," replied the steward, who
wished to torment the poor woman; "but I
dreamed of him all night long; he appeared to me

:\ Jlf/ 7



joined in the race, and at the end of a minute Mou-
mouth had more than thirty-seven dogs in pursuit
of him.
"I am lost," he says to himself, "but at least I
shall sell my life dearly."
He backs against a wall, and braces himself
haughtily on his feet; his teeth gnashing, his hair
bristling, he faces his numerous enemies with so
terrible an-eye that they recoil like a single -man.
Profiting by their hesitation, he turns suddenly

in a dream; with his face pale and an exhausted
air, like a cat who did not feel very well."
"In what place was he?"





He seemed to be in a garden, at the foot of a
Mother Michel instantly ran to the garden, where,
as you may imagine, she did not find Moumouth.
During the whole day Lustucru amused himself
by giving her false exultations, which were followed
by increased despondency.
"Mother Michel," said he, "just now, in passing
the store-room, I thought
S I heard a kind of meyow-
Mother Michel hastened
to visit the store-room.
Presently he came to her
out of breath, and said:
"We have him at last!
I am nearly certain that
Sh --- e is rummaging in the
And Mother Michel ven-
tured into the gloomy vaults of the cellar, where
she encountered nothing but rats.
It was near the close of the day that Lustucru
pronounced these words, which a popular song has
happily preserved for us:
"Oh, Mother Michel,
Your cat is not lost;
He is up in the garret
A-hunting the rats,
With his little straw gun
And his saber of wood! "

The words were full of a bitter raillery, which
Father Lustucru was unable to disguise. To pre-
tend that Moumouth was hunting rats with his little
straw gun and his wooden sword, was to suppose

something quite iri lik':,, for nobody ever saw a
cat make use of such arms. But the agonies of'
Mother Michel had so confused her mind, that she
noticed only what could give her a gleam of hope.
He is in the' garret! she cried, without' pay-
ing attention to the rest of the verse. "Let us
hasten there, my dear sir; let us search for him.
Give me your arm, for I am so nervous, so troubled,
so harassed by fatigue, that I have not the strength
to get up alone."
S: The -two'mounted to the garret, and Mother

Michel, lantern in hand, searched in the attic and
under the roof. Silence and solitude reigned every-
"You are again mistaken," murmured Mother
"No, no," replied the malicious man; "let us
continue to hunt, we shall finish by finding. We
have n't looked there-behind those fagots."
The credulous Mother Michel advanced in the
direction indicated, and-to the great stupefaction
of Lustucru-the cat, which he believed drowned,
appeared in full health and strength, and fixed its
gaze upon him indignantly.
It is he it is he cried Mother Michel, seiz-
ing Moumouth in her arms. "Ah, my dear

Lustucru my good and true friend, how I thank
you for conducting me here "
The steward had scarcely any taste for compli-
ments which he so little merited. Pale-faced and
cold, he hung his head before his victim, whose
preservation he could not explain to himself. It
was, however, a very simple thing: Moumouth,
pursued by the dogs, succeeded in leaping from
the wall, and, passing from gutter to gutter, from
garden to garden, from roof to roof, had reached
his domicile; but, dreading the resentment of his
enemy, he had not dared to appear, and had hid-
den himself in the garret.
"Am I the dupe of a nightmare?" said Father
Lustucru to himself. "Is it really that rascal of a
Moumouth that I have there under my eyes, in
flesh and bone? Is n't it his ghost that has come
back to torment me? This cat, then, is the evil
one in person! "
The cat was not the evil one-Providence had
protected him.

THE events we have recorded indicate very
clearly the position'of our personages. Fearing to
lose both the well-beloved cat and the advantages




she was ambitious to obtain, Mother Michel re-
doubled her vigilance and attention.
Moumouth, knowing henceforth with whom he
had to-deal, promised himself to avoid the stew-
ard, or to fight him, if need
be, with tooth and nail.
As to Father Lustucru,
it was enough that his
projects had been defeated,
in order that he should per-
sist in them with despera-
tion. He now wished the
destruction of the poor and
-' innocent cat, not only on
account of his jealousy of
LUSTUCRU MEDITATES. Mother cel, but be-
Mother .,Lichel, but be-
cause he hated the cat itself.
Oh, what humiliation!" he said to himself,
with bitterness. I ought to hide myself, retire to a
desert, and bury me in the bowels of the earth!
What! I, J6r6me Lustucru, a grown man, a man
of knowledge and experience, a man-I dare say
it-charming in society, I am vanquished, scoffed
at, taken for a dupe, by a cat of the gutter! .
I leave him at the bottom of a river, and find him
at the top of a house! I wish to separate him from

his guardian, and I am the means of bringing them
together I lead Mother Michel to the garret to
torture her, and there I witness- her transports of

joy! The cat I believed dead re-appears to defy
me! He shall not defy me long!"
And Father Lustucru remained absorbed in deep
Moumouth had not yet dined that day, and he
made it plain by expressive miau-ing that he would
very willingly place something under his teeth.
Presently, Mother Michel said to him-for she
spoke to him as if he were an intelligent being:
Have patience, sir; we are going to attend to
She descended to the parlor, which she habitu-
ally occupied since the departure of Madam de
la Grenouillere, and the cat, who accompanied
Mother Michel, was clearly displeased at seeing her
take the road to the chamber of Lustucru. Never-
theless, he went in with her, persuaded that in the
presence of that faithful friend, the steward would
not dare to undertake anything against him.
At the moment she knocked at the door, Father
Lustucru was taking from the shelf a green package
which bore this label: Death to Rats.

This is the thing," he
ing the paper into his vest.
also be Death to Cats.
Our dear Moumouth
shall make the trial.
. What can one do
to serve you, my good
Mother Michel?'"
"It is five o'clock,
M. Lustucru, and you
forget my cat."
"Iforget him !" cried 4
the steward, clasping
his hands as if very

said to himself, thrust-
" Death to Rats should


much hurt by the suspicion; I was just thinking
of him. . I am going to prepare for him such
a delicious hash that he will never want another !"
"Thanks, Monsieur Lustucru; I shall inform
madam, the Countess, of your care for her favorite.
I have received a letter from her this very day;
she sends me word that she shall return shortly,
that she hopes to find Moumouth in good con-
dition, and that she has in reserve for me a very
handsome reward. You comprehend my joy,
Monsieur Lustucru My sister is left a widow
with four children, to whom I hand over my little
savings each year. Until now this assistance has
not been much; but, thanks to the gifts of madam,
the Countess, the poor .children will be able to go
to school and learn a trade."
In pronouncing these words, the eyes of Mother
Michel were moist and bright with the most sweet
joy,-that which one experiences in performing or
meditating good actions. The steward, however,
was not affected. He had so given himself up to




his evil passions that they completely mastered
him, and had by degrees stifled all generous senti-
ments in his soul, as the tares which one lets grow
choke the good grain.
One would have said that Moumouth understood
this man. The cat approached Mother Michel,
who had seated herself to chat awhile, and looking
at her with supplicating eyes, pulled at the skirt of
her robe, as if to say to her:
Come, let us go "
"Take care!" said the good creature; "you
will tear my dress."
Moumouth began again.
"What is it? Do you want to get out of here?"
asked Mother Michel.
Moumouth made several affirmative capers in
the air.
"Decidedly," she added, "this cat is not con-
tented anywhere but in the parlor."



She rose and withdrew, preceded by Moumouth,
who bounded with joy.
A quarter of an hour afterward the steward had
prepared a most appetizing hash, composed of the
breast of chicken, the best quality of bread, and
other ingredients justly esteemed by dainty eaters.
After adding a large dose of the "death to rats,"
he set the hash down in an adjoining room, and,
opening the parlor door, cried:
Monsieur is served! !"
On beholding this delicate dish, Moumouth
thrilled with pleasure, for, to tell the truth, he was
rather greedy. He stretched his nose over the
plate, and then suddenly retreated, arching his
back. A sickening and infectious odor had mounted
to his nostrils. He made a tour round the -plate,
took another sniff, and again retreated. This ani-
mal, full of sagacity, had scented the poison.
Well, that is very extraordinary," said Mother
Michel; and, having vainly offered the food to her
cat, she went to find Lustucru, to inform him what
had occurred.
The traitor listened with inwiard:rage.

"What!" said he, "he has refused to eat it?'
It is probably because he is not hungry."
So I suppose, Monsieur Lustucru; for your
hash looks very nice. I should like it myself, and.
I've half a mind to
taste it, to set Mou-
mouth an example."
At this, Father Lus-'
tucru, in spite of his
hardness, could not
help trembling. For
a minute he was hor-
rified at his crime, HE SNIRFS WITH DISGUST.
and cried hastily:
"Don't touch it, I beg of you! "
Why not? Is there anything wrong in the
hash ? "
"No, certainly not," stammered Father Lustu-
cru; but what has been prepared for a cat should.
not serve for a Christian. It is necessary to guard.
propriety, and not trifle with the dignity of human.
Mother Michel accepted this reasoning, and said,
a little snappishly:
"Very well; Moumouth may suit himself! I
do not wish to yield to all his fancies, and I shall
not give him anything else."
The following day the hash was still uneaten.
The steward had hoped that the cat, pressed by
hunger, would have thrown himself upon the
poisoned food; but Moumouth knew how to suf-
fer. He put up with abstinence, lived on scraps.
and crumbs of bread, and recoiled with terror-

every time that his guardian offered him the fatal
plate, which finally remained forgotten in a corner
of the closet in the antechamber.
Father Lustucru, seeing that his plot had not





.succeeded, was more irritable than ever. The
desire to rid himself of Moumouth became a fixed
idea with him, a passion, a monomania; he dreamed
of it day and night. Each letter in which Madam
de la Grenouillre demanded news of the cat and
repeated her promise of
recompense to Mother
Michel, each sign of
interest given by the
Countess to her two
favorites, increased the
blind fury of their en-
emy. He thought of
the most infernal plans
THE FATAL PLATE REMAINS to demolish Moumouth
FORGOTTEN, without risk to him-
self, but none of them seemed sufficiently safe and
expeditious. Finally he decided on this one:
On a heavy pedestal, in the chamber of Mother
Michel, was a marble bust of Louis XIV., repre-
sented with a Roman helmet and a peruke inter-
laced with laurel-leaves. Behind this bust was a
round window, which looked upon the staircase;
and just in front of the pedestal was the downy
cushion that served as a bed for Moumouth, who
would certainly have been crushed if the bust had
taken it into its head to topple over.
One night Lustucru stole noiselessly into the
chamber of Mother Michel, opened the round win-
dow, which he was careful to leave ajar, and re-
tired silently., At midnight, when everybody was
asleep in the house, he took one of those long
brooms, commonly called a wolf-head, placed him-
self on the staircase opposite the small window,
rested his back firmly
against the banister,
Sand, with the aid or
the wolf-head, push-
ed over the bust,
which tumbled with
a loud crash on the
cushion beneath.
The wicked man
had expected this re-
sult of his move-
ment; it was for him
the signal of his tri-
umph and the death
of Moumouth. How-
/ ever, when he heard
the bust roll heavily
on the floor, he was
LouIs xiv. seized by a panic,
and, with trembling
steps, regained his chamber.- Mother Michel awoke
with a start; she was in' complete darkness, and
unable to procure a light; for German -chemical

matches were not yet invented. Surprise and fright
had taken away her faculties for an instant, then
she cried, Stop thief! with all the strength of
her lungs. Very soon the whole house was roused;
and all the servants came running in to learn what
was the matter.
Lustucru appeared last, with a cotton night-cap
on his head, and, for the rest, very simply clad.
"What has happened ?" he demanded.
"I see now," answered Mother Michel; "it is
the bust of Louis XIV. that has fallen down."
"Bah! said Father Lustucru, playing astonish-


ment. "But, in that case, your cat must have re-
ceived it on his head."
As he said these words, Moumouth came out from
under the bed and threw himself before Mother
Michel, as if to implore her aid and protection.
Lustucru stood amazed.
Everybody knows how light is the slumber of
cats. Moumouth, who had the habit of sleeping
with only one eye, had risen quickly on hearing a
rustling behind the round window. Like nearly
all animals, he was curious, and sought to under-
stand anything that astonished him; so he camped
himself in the middle of the
chamber, the better to ob-
serve with what intention
the wolf-head advanced at
that unseasonable hour by
so unusual a route. Startled
by the fall of the bust, he
had fled for refuge to the
bottom of the alcove. '
They gave Mother Michel,
to revive her, a glass of sugar
and water, flavored with
orange-flower; they picked
up the great king, who had smashed his nose and





chin, and lost half of his beautiful peruke; then
everybody went to bed once more.
Saved again 1" said Father Lustucru to him-
self. "He always escapes me! I shall not be
able, then, to send him to his fathers before the
return of the Countess Mother Michel will get



her pension of fifteen hundred livres, and I shall
remain a nobody, the same as before. That ras-
cally cat distrusts me; everything I undertake
alone against him fails . Decidedly, I must
get somebody to help me "

ed then for an accom-
plice. He at first thought
of finding one among the
domestics of the house-
hold; but he reflected
that they all were de-
S voted to Mother Michel,
Sd and were capable of be-
traying him, and causing
^. him to be shamefully

turned out of the mansion, in which he held so
honorable and lucrative a post. However, he had
great desire for an accomplice. In what class, ot
what age and sex, and on what terms should he
select one?
Occupied with these thoughts, Lustucru went
out one morning at about half-past six, to take
a walk on the quay. As he had crossed the
threshold, he noticed on the other side of the
street a large woman, dry and angular, clothed in
cheap, flashy colors. This woman had sunken
eyes, a copper-colored complexion, the nose of a
bird of prey, and a face as wrinkled as an old
apple. She was talking with a boy of thirteen or
fourteen; covered with rags, but possessing a sharp,
intelligent countenance.

Father Lustucru thought he recognized the old
woman, but without recalling where he had seen
her. If he had been less occupied he would have
searched longer into his memory; but the idea of
making away with the cat absorbed him entirely,
and he continued his route with a thoughtful air,
his head bent forward, his arms crossed upon his
breast, and his eyes fixed upon the ground, as if
the accomplice he.wanted might possibly spring up
out of the earth.
Thus he wandered for some time; the breeze of
the morning failed to cool his blood, heated with
evil passions. Neither the spectacle of the pure
skies, nor the songs of the birds, who enjoyed



themselves on the border of the river, awoke in
him those calm and sweet emotions with' which
they inspire honest people.




At the moment when he returned, the old woman
was no longer to be seen; but the boy remained
in the same place, seated
upon a stone post, with his
nose in the air, regarding
Sthe mansion of Madam
de la Grenouillere very
F5 attentively. Lustucru ap-
proached him and address-
ed him in these terms:
'What are you doing
there, youngster ?"
S"I? Nothing. I am
.^ -looking at that mansion."
I believe that without
difficulty; but why do you
look at it ?"
LU U IS ABSOED. Because I find it hand-
LUSTUCRUsome, and would like toABSORBED.
some, and would like to

live in it; one ought to be happy there."
Yes, indeed," answered the steward, with em-
phasis ; they pass the days there happily enough.
Who is that woman with whom you were speaking
awhile since ?"
"It was Madam Bradamor."
"Madam Bradamor, the famous fortune-teller,
who lives below, at the other end of the street? "
"The same."
"You know her ?"
"A little; I sometimes do errands for her."
"Ah, ah And what did the old wizard
say to you ?"
She said that if I could enter that house as a
domestic, I should have a very agreeable existence."
"'Madam de la Grenouillere is absent, my little
friend; and, besides, her house is full"
( "That is a pity," said
the boy, drawing a deep
Father Lustucru made
several steps as if to re-
enter, rested his hand
upon the knocker of the
door, then turned ab-

the boy.
What is your name ?"
"Nicholas Langlume,
the same as my father's;
Sbut I am more generally
/ known under the nick-
name of Faribole."
="'What do you do ?"
THE BOY ON THE STONE POST. Nothing; my father
works on the quay, and
I,-I live from day to day, gaining my bread as I
can. I run errands, I sell May-bugs and black-

birds and sparrows, I pick up nails: in the gutters
and sell them, I open the doors of carriages, I fish
for logs in the Seine, I sing verses in the streets, I
light lamps, and sometimes I play in. the panto-
mimes at the theater of Nicolet. These trades,
sir, are not worth much; and I have all I can do
to get something to eat every day."
"You interest me," replied Father Lustucru,
"and I've a wish to help you on in the world.
Tell me, Faribole, have you a taste for cooking? "
"Rather! I love the tid-bits, but my means do
not allow me- "
I did not ask you if you were fond of eating,
stupid! I asked you if you had the taste, the in-
clination to do cooking."
I don't know; I never tried."
"Well, then, Faribole, I will give you lessons.
Come, follow me; I will clothe you and take care
of you at my own expense, in awaiting the arrival
of Madam de la Grenouillere. She is a good lady,


and will doubtless retain you; but if she does not,
your education will be commenced, and you'll be
able to place yourself elsewhere."
You are, then, in the service of the Count-
I am her steward," said Father Lustucru, with
The eyes of Faribole sparkled with pleasure; he
bowed respectfully before the steward, and said
with warmth:
"Ah, how much I owe to you!"
Faribole was installed that same day, and cor-
dially received by the other servants of the house-
hold. He was a good-natured boy, serviceable and
quick, and, although a little awkward in his new
clothes and at his new duties, he showed plenty of
"Faribole," said the steward to his protege,
several days afterward, it is well to let you know
the ways of the house. There is an individual



here, all-powerful,
who reigns as sove-
reign master, whose
will is obeyed, whose
Swhims are anticipat-
ed,-and that indi-
vidual is a cat. If
you wish to make
Sour way in the
World, it is necessary
to seek to please
cat Moumouth ac-
cords you his affections, you will also have that
of Madam de la Grenouillere and her companion,
Mother Michel."

"The cat shall be my friend, and I will be the
friend of the cat,", responded the young fellow,
In effect, he showered on Moumouth so many
kindnesses and caresses
and attentions, that the
cat, although naturally
suspicious, conceived a
lively attachment for Fa-
ribole, followed him with
pleasure, teased him, and
invited him to frolics. THE CAT AND THE BOY BECOME
Mother Michel was near- FRIENDS.
ly jealous of the small boy; Father Lustucru, who
had ideas of his own, laughed in his sleeve, and
rubbed his hands together. .

(To be continued.)



LOOK, little Tom! Come, Nellie, look!
Here's ,soi!ethinr to be seen-
Down underneath these yellow flowers,
Green hiding:in the green.

I am so glad to have them back!
The cucumbers have come!
See, here's a funny baby one,
No bigger than my thumb!

And here is one that's fully grown!
Come, let me have your knife;
I '11 take it off; you never saw
One finer in your life.

But yesterday, for me to pluck
It was too hard and small;
To-morrow, it will be so old
'T will not be good at all.

But if we gather it to-day,
We get it in its prime.
The way to have good cucumbers
Is, "Cut them off in time."

Oh, if this little cucumber
Could speak to you and me,
And give to us some good advice,
I know what it would be:

" Be sure you never hurry when
'T is wiser to delay,
Nor put off till to-morrow what
You ought to do to-day."'

For better things than cucumbers
As quickly pass their prime,
And nothing in the world succeeds
Like taking them in time.




S.j._ -'. BY H

..',,.-' OOMS have just as much expres-
S sion as faces. They produce
just as strong an impression on
.us at first -;;ir. The instant
we cross the threshold of a
S room, we know certain things
S about the person who lives in
it. The walls 'and the floor,
and the tables and chairs, all
speak out at once, and betray
some of their owner's secrets. They tell us
whether she is neat or unneat, orderly or dis-
orderly, and, more than all, whether she is of a
cheerful, sunny temperament, and loves beauty in
all things, or is dull and heavy, and does not know
pretty things from ugly ones. And just as these
traits in a person act on us, making us happy and
cheerful, or gloomy and sad, so does the room act
upon us. We may not know, perhaps, what it is
that is raising or depressing our spirits; we may
not suspect that we could be influenced by such a
thing; but it is true, nevertheless.
I have been in many rooms in which it was next
to impossible to talk with any animation or pleas-
ure, or to have any sort of good time. They were
dark and dismal; they were full of ugly furniture,
badly arranged; the walls and the floors were cov-
ered with hideous colors; no two things seemed
to belong together, or to have any relation to each
other; so that the whole effect on the eye was
almost as torturing as the effect on the ear would
be of hearing a band of musicians playing on bad
instruments, and all playing different tunes.
I have also been in many rooms where you could
not help having a good time, even if there were
nothing especial going on in the way of conversa-
tion or amusement, just because the room was
so bright and cosey. It did you good simply to
sit still there. You almost thought you would
like to go sometimes when the owner was away,
and you need not talk with anybody but the room
In very many instances the dismal rooms were
the rooms on which a great deal of money had
been spent, and the cosey rooms belonged to
people who were by no means rich. Therefore,
since rooms can be made cosey and cheerful with
very little money, I think it is right to say that
it is every woman's duty to make her rooms cosey
and cheerful. I do not forget that, in speaking to

[. H.

the readers of ST. NICHOLAS, I am speaking to
girls who are for the most part living in their
parents' houses, and who have not, therefore, the
full control of their own rooms. But it is pre-
cisely during these years of life that the habits and
tastes are formed; and the girl who allows her own
room in her father's house to be untidy and una-
dorned, will inevitably, if she ever has a house
of her own, let that be untidy and unadorned too.
There is not a reader of ST. NICHOLAS, I am
sure, who does not have in the course of the
year pocket-money enough to do a great deal
toward making her room beautiful. There is not
one whose parents do not spend for her, on
Christmas and New Year's and her birthday, a
sum of money, more or less, which they would
gladly give to her, if she preferred it, to be spent in
adorning her room.
It is not at all impossible that her parents would
like to give her also a small sum to be spent in
ornamenting the common living-room of the house.
This is really a work which daughters ought to do,
and which busy, tired mothers would be very glad
to have them do, if they show good taste in their
arrangements. The girl who cares enough and
understands enough about the expression of rooms
to make her own room pretty, will not be long con-
tent while her mother's rooms are bare and unin-
viting, and she will come to have a new standard
of values in the matter of spending money, as soon
as she begins to want to buy things to make rooms
How much better to have a fine plaster cast of
Apollo or Clytie, than a gilt locket, for instance!
How much better to have a heliotype picture of
one of Raphael's or Correggio's Madonnas, than

seventy-five cents worth of candy 1 Six shillings
will buy the heliotype, and three dollars the Clytie
and Apollo both!
No It is not a question of money; it is a
question of taste; it is a question of choosing be-
tween good and beautiful things, and bad and
ugly things; between things which last for years,
and do you good every hour of every day, as often
as you look at them, and things which are gone
in an hour or a few days, and even for the few
days or the hour do harm rather than good.
Therefore I think it is right to say that it is the
duty of every one to have his or her rooms cheerful
and cosey and, as far as possible, beautiful; the




duty of every man and woman, the duty of every
boy and girl.
To give minute directions for all the things
which help to make rooms cosey and cheerful and
beautiful, would require at least twelve numbers
of ST. NICHOLAS. Volumes have been written on
the subject, and I often see these volumes lying
on tables in very dismal rooms. The truth is,
these recipes are like many recipes for good things
to eat; it takes a good cook, in the beginning, to
know how to make use of the recipe. But there
are some first principles of the art which can be
told in a very few words.
The first essential for a cheerful room is sun-
shine. Without this, money, labor, taste, are all
thrown away. A dark room cannot be cheerful;
and it is as unwholesome as it is gloomy. Flowers
will not blossom in it; neither will people. No-
body knows, or ever will know, how many men
and women have been killed by dark rooms.
"Glorify the room! Glorify the room! Syd-
ney Smith used to say of a morning, when he or-
dered every blind thrown open, every shade drawn
up to the top of the window. Whoever is fortu-
nate enough to have a south-east or south-west
corner room, may, if she chooses, live in such
floods of sunny light that sickness will have hard
work to get hold of her; and as for the blues, they
will not dare to so much as knock at her door.
Second on my list of essentials for a cheerful
room I put-color. Many a room that would other-
wise be charmingis expressionless and tame for want
of bright color. Don't be afraid of red. It is the
most i;;i.:tlI.-i and inspiring of colors. No room
can be perfect without a good deal of it. All the
shades of scarlet or of crimson are good. In an
autumn leaf, in a curtain, in a chair-cover, in a
pin-cushion, in a vase, in the binding of a book,
everywhere you put it, it makes a brilliant point
and gives pleasure. The blind say that they
always think red must be like the sound of a
trumpet; and I think there is a deep truth in their
instinct. It is the gladdest, most triumphant color
Next to red comes yellow; this must be used
very sparingly. No bouquet of flowers is com-
plete without a little touch of yellow; and no room
is as gay without yellow as with it. But a bouquet
in which yellow predominates is ugly; the colors
of all the other flowers are killed by it; and a
room which has one grain too much of yellow in
it is hopelessly ruined. I have seen the whole
expression of one side of a room altered, im-
proved, toned up, by the taking out of two or
three bright yellow leaves from a big sheaf of
sumacs and ferns. The best and safest color for
walls is a delicate cream color. When I say best

and safest, I mean the best background for bright
colors and for pictures, and the color which is
least in danger of disagreeing with anything you
may want to put upon it. So also with floors; the
safest and best tint is a neutral gray. If you cannot
have a bare wooden floor, either of black walnut,
or stained to imitate it, then have a plain gray felt
carpet. Above all things, avoid bright colors in
a carpet. In rugs, to lay down on a plain gray, or
on a dark-brown floor, the brighter the colors the
better. The rugs are only so many distinct pict-
ures thrown up into relief here and there by the
under-tint of gray or brown. But a pattern, either
set or otherwise, of bright colors journeying up
and down, back and forth, breadth after breadth,
on a -floor, is always and forever ugly. If one is
so unfortunate as to enter on the possession of a
room with such a carpet as this, or with a wall-
paper of a similar nature, the first thing to be
done, if possible, is to get rid of them or cover
them up. Better have a ten-cent paper of neutral
tints, and indistinguishable figures on the wall,
and have bare floors painted brown or gray.
Third on my list of essentials for making rooms
cosey, cheerful, and beautiful, come books and
pictures. Here some persons will cry out: "But
books and pictures cost a great deal of money."
Yes, books do cost money, and so do pictures;
but books accumulate rapidly in most houses
where books are read at all; and if people really
want books, it is astonishing how many they con-
trive to get together in a few years without pinch-
ing themselves very seriously in other directions.
As for pictures costing money, how much or
how little they cost depends on what sort of pict-
ures you buy. As I said before, you can buy for
six shillings a good heliotype (which is to all
intents and purposes as good as an engraving), of
one of Raphael's or Correggio's Madonnas. But
you can buy pictures much cheaper than that. A
Japanese fan is a picture; some of them are ex-
quisite pictures, and blazing with color too. They
cost anywhere from two to six cents. There are
also Japanese pictures, printed on coarse paper,
some two feet long and one broad, to be bought for
twenty-five cents each; with a dozen of these, a dozen
or two of fans, and say four good heliotypes, you
can make the walls of a small room so gay that a
stranger's first impression on entering it will be
that it is adorned for a festival. The fans can be
pinned on the walls in endlessly picturesque com-
binations. One of the most effective is to pin them
-across the corners of the room, in overlapping
rows, like an old-fashioned card-rack.
And here let me say a word about corners. They
are wofully neglected. Even in rooms where very
much has been done in way of decoration, you




will see all the four corners left bare-forcing their
ugly sharp right angle on your sight at every
turn. They are as ugly as so many elbows! Make
the four corners pretty, and the room is pretty,
even if very little else be done. Instead of having
.one stiff, straight-shelved book-case hanging on the
wall, have a carpenter put triangular shelves into
the corners. He will make them for thirty cents
.apiece, and screw them on the walls. Put a dozen
books on each of the lower shelves, a bunch of
autumn leaves, a pretty vase, a little bust of Clytie,
,or a photograph on a small easel, on the upper
,ones, and.with a line of Japanese fans coming
down to meet them from the cornice, the four
corners are furnished and adorned. This is
merely a suggestion of one out of dozens of ways
in which walls can be made pleasant to look at
without much cost.,
If the'room has.chintz curtains, these shelves
will look well covered with the same chintz, with a
plaited ruffle tacked on their front- edge. If the
room has a predominant color, say a green carpet,
or a border on the walls of claret or crimson, the
shelves will look well'with a narrow, straight bor-
der of billiard-cloth or baize (to match the ruling
color of the rodm) pinked on the lower edge, and
tacked on.. Some people put on borders of gay
colors, in embroidery. It is generally unsafe to add
these to a room,' but sometimes they have a good
Fuuirth orn my list of essentials for a cosey, cheer-
ful room, I put order: This is a dangerous thing
to say, perhaps; but it is my honest conviction
that sunlight, color, books and pictures come
before order. Observe, however, that while it

comes fourth on the list, it is only fourth; it is by
no means last! I am not making an exhaustive
list. I do not know where I should stop if I
undertook that. I am mentioning only a few of
the first principles,-the essentials. And in re-
gard to this very question of order, I am partly at
a loss to know how far it is safe to permit it to lay
down its law in a room. I think almost as many
rooms are spoiled by being kept in too exact
order, as by being too disorderly. There is an
apparent disorder which is not disorderly; and
there is an apparent order, which is only a witness
to the fact that things are never used. I do not
know how better to state the golden-mean on this
point than to tell the story of an old temple which
was once discovered, bearing on three of its sides
this inscription: "Be bold." On the fourth side
the inscription: "Be not tbo bold."
I think it would be well written on three sides of
a room: "Be orderly." On the fourth side: "But
don't be too orderly."
I read once in a child's letter a paragraph some-
what like this:
-"I look every day in the glass to see how my
countenance is growing. My nurse has told me
that every one creates his own countenance; that
God gives us our faces, but we can make a good
or bad countenance, by 'thinking good or bad
thoughts, keeping in a good or bad temper."
I have often thought of this in regard to rooms.
When we first take possession of a room, it has
no especial expression, pechaps-at any rate, no
expression peculiar to us; but day by day we create
its countenance, and at the end of a few years it is
sure to be a pretty good reflection of our own.


WHAT do I see in Baby's eyes?
So bright! so bright!
I see the blue, I see a spark,
I see a twinkle in the dark-
Now shut them tight.

What do I see in Baby's eyes?
Shut tight-shut tight.
The blue is gone, the light is hid-
I '11 lay a soft kiss on each lid.
Good night! good night!








ON the fifth day of September, 1862, two English history of ballooning. They started from Wolver-
aeronauts, Glaisher and Coxwell by name, made hampton, England, and the elevation reached was
one of the most remarkable ascents recorded in.the the highest ever attained by man-nearly or quite
VOL. 111.-33.


seven miles above the earth. Last summer, three
scientific Frenchmen rose to nearly as great a
height, but only one returned alive; the other two
were suffocated in the thin air so far above the
Messrs. Glaisher and Coxwell were more for-
tunate, but their escape was a narrow one. Mr.
Glaisher had already lost his senses, and Mr. Cox-
well the use of his hands, when the upward course
of the balloon was stayed by Mr. Coxwell, who
succeeded in grasping the valve-rope with his
teeth, and by ducking his head was able to open
the safety-valve and allow some of the gas to
Mr. Glaisher has given a modest yet thrilling
account of this almost fatal adventure. The bal-
loon left the earth at three minutes past one P. M.
Nothing important occurred until the party, at forty
minutes past one, reached the altitude of four miles
from the earth. Discharging sand, they rose to
the height of five miles during the next ten min-
utes. Up to this time Mr. Glaisher had taken
observations with comfort, though Mr. Coxwell,
having more to do, found some difficulty in breath-
ing. More sand was discharged, and the balloon
shot rapidly upward. Soon Mr. Glaisher's sight
failed, and, he could not read the fine divisions
on his instruments. All the time the balloon had
been spinning round and round, and the valve-line
had become so entangled that Mr. Coxwell had to
climb into the ring above the car to adjust it.
At this moment (one o'clock and fifty-four min-
utes) Mr. Glaisher looked at the barometer and
found its reading to be 9Y inches, implying a
height of over 29,000 feet. Wishing to record the
observation, he found his right arm powerless. He
tried to move the other arm, and found it power-
less too.
"Then I tried to shake myself, and succeeded,
but I seemed to have no limbs. On looking at the
barometer, my head fell over my left shoulder; I
struggled and shook my body again, but could not
move my arms. Getting my head upright for an
instant only, it fell on my right shoulder; then I
fell backward, my back resting upon the side of
the car and my head on its edge. In this position
my eyes were directed to Mr. Coxwell in the ring.
When I shook my body I seemed to have full
power over the muscles of the back, and consider-
ably so over those of the neck, but none over either
my arms or my legs. As in the case of the arms,
so all muscular power was lost in an instant from
my back and neck. I dimly saw Mr. Coxwell, and
endeavored to speak, but could not. In an instant
intense darkness overcame me, but I was still con-
scious, with as active a brain as at the present
moment whilst writing this. I thought I had been

seized with asphyxia, and believed I should expe-
rience nothing more, as death would come unless
we descended speedily; other thoughts were enter-
ing my mind, when I suddenly became unconscious
as on going to sleep."
Meanwhile, Mr. Coxwell was in quite as critical a
condition. Hoar-frost was all around the neck of
the balloon, and the ring was piercingly cold. He
attempted to leave the ring, and found that his
hands were frozen. He dropped to the car almost
insensible, and discovered that his companion was
apparently dead. He tried to go to him, but could
not. He wished to open the valve, but his hands
were frozen and his arms powerless. Feeling
insensibility coming rapidly over him, he made a
desperate effort, caught the valve-line with his
teeth, and held the valve open until the balloon
took a decided downward turn.
In a few minutes Mr. Glaisher began to revive,
and soon became conscious that Mr. Coxwell was
trying to rouse him.
"I then heard him speak more emphatically, but
could not see, speak, or move. I heard him again
say: 'Do try; now do.' Then the instruments
became dimly visible, then Mr. Coxwell, and very
shortly I saw clearly. Next I arose from my seat
and looked around as though waking from sleep,
though not refreshed, and said to Mr. Coxwell, I
have been insensible.' He said, 'You have, and I
too, very nearly.' I then drew up my legs, which
had been extended, and took a pencil in my hand
to begin observations. Mr. Coxwell told me that
he had lost the use of his hands, which were black,
and I poured brandy over them."
What if Mr. Coxwell had lost the use of his
neck also 1
It has been said that during the critical moments
when Mr. Glaisher was unconscious and Mr. Cox-
well nearly so, the balloon reached the fearful
height of seven miles; and some of the young
readers of ST. NICHOLAS may wonder how two
half-dead men could tell that.
As you have already been informed, the barom-
eter, when Mr. Glaisher's last observation was
made, showed that the balloon was 29,000 feet, or
about five miles and a half, above the earth. The
observations he had been making from minute
to minute showed how fast the balloon was rising
when he lost his senses. His first act on recovering
was to look at the chronometer and barometer
before him. The one showed that he had lost
several minutes, the other that the balloon was
falling. In a minute or two he was able to tell how
fast they were falling. From these data he was
able to calculate closely how long the balloon
must have continued to rise before Mr. Coxwell
was able to arrest its upward course, and from



that he could estimate the probable height it had
But this was not their only means of telling how
high they had gone. Mr. Glaisher had before
him, among the instruments partially seen in the
engraving, a very sensitive spirit thermometer, so
made as to leave a mark at the lowest point the
spirit reached in the tube. The observations made
during the ascent had told him just how rapidly the
temperature fell that day as the balloon rose: you
know that the air grows cold very rapidly as one
ascends. Now the thermometer recorded nearly
twelve degrees below zero as the coldest temper-
ature experienced; this, at the rate of decline
observed-so many degrees for each thousand feet
of ascent-indicated an elevation corresponding to
that obtained by calculation, that is, about 37,000
Again, when Mr. Coxwell dropped from the ring
into the car, he noticed that the hand of the
aneroid barometer they carried stood at 7, indi-
cating an air pressure of only seven inches, which
corresponds to a height of 37,000 feet. The agree-
ment of these three different methods of estimating
the height of the balloon is so close that there can
be little doubt of their united testimony.
What has air pressure to do with the height of a
Everything.- It would n't go up at all if the air
did not press it upward. Besides, by measuring the
pressure at any point by means of a barometer, one
is able to tell how much of the atmosphere is below
him,-in other words, how high he is above the
That the air does press upward, as well as in
every other direction, can be easily proved. This
is one way. Fill a goblet to the level with water,
and cover it nicely with a piece of writing-paper,
rubbing the rim of the goblet well to make a
snug joint. This done, turn the goblet upside
down. The pressure of the air against the paper
will hold the water up, and if the experiment be
dexterously made, not a drop will fall out. If the
goblet were thirty feet high, the water would be
supported just the same; in other words, the up-
ward pressure of the air will support a column of
water thirty feet high, and a little more, at the level
of the sea. As one rises above the sea the pressure
is less, because less of the air is left above. By
rising three miles and three-quarters, half the
atmosphere is passed, and the air pressure is then
sufficient to support only about fifteen feet of water;
or, as mercury is about twelve times as heavy as
water, about fifteen inches of mercury, as in a com-
mon barometer. At a height of between five and

six miles, the barometer reading is only ten inches;
at twenty miles it would be less than one inch-the
height of the'recording column of mercury de-
creasing very rapidly with the elevation.
Thus the barometric readings tell the mountain
climber or the aeronaut very nearly his exact
height above the sea, at any moment. Combined
with other observations familiar to men of science,
the height can be told with great precision.
I can hear many of you asking: What made Mr.
Glaisher lose his'senses ? And why were the un-
lucky Frenchmen suffocated?
Two very grave evils are encountered on ascend-
ing to great heights above the earth, both due,
directly or indirectly, to the diminishing pressure
of the air. Our lungs are used to working under
a pressure of about fifteen pounds to the square
inch, and to air of corresponding density. Every
time the lungs are filled in ordinary breathing, a
quantity of air of this density is brought to act on
the blood in them, purifying it so as to make it fit
to sustain life. But when the aeronaut has risen,
say to a height of-four miles, the atmosphere is
less than half as dense as the air he is used to
breathing; its pressure upon the body and the
lungs is only half as great as that which by use
they are fitted to withstand; and the machinery of
breathing and the circulation of the blood are more
or less disturbed in consequence. At the height of
five or six miles this disturbance may seriously
interfere with health and comfort. Besides, the air
is so very much thinner up there, that when the
lungs are filled with it a much smaller quantity of
air than usual is brought to bear on the blood. The
blood is consequently less completely purified; its
color darkens; the impurities retained in it act
like poison; and in ka little while, unless a descent
is made into a denser atmosphere, the victim may
be suffocated past recovery, as the two Frenchmen
were who lost their lives in a balloon ascent last
One of the pigeons taken up with Messrs. Glai-
sher and Coxwell died from this cause, and another
lost its senses but recovered. There were six in the
cage when they started. One was thrown out at the
height of three miles, going up; it spread its wings
and dropped like a piece of paper. The second was
thrown out at the height of four miles; it flew vigor-
ously, but the air was too thin to sustain it. The
third, thrown out between four and five miles up,
fell downward like a stone. The fourth was thrown
out at four miles, coming down, and took refuge on
the top of the balloon. The fifth, as already noticed,
was dead; and the sixth was so stupid that it could
not fly for some time after reaching the ground.






THE Pepper-owl and the Fluffy-owl, and little
Patty,-that is the whole name of the story. And
first, you must hear about the pepper-owl. He
was made of silver, and thought a great deal of
himself on that account. Patty's father brought
him home one afternoon, and stood him on the
dinner-table beside his plate, and waited to see if
the children would notice him. The pepper-owl
expected attention, and began to feel cross because
the children were hungry, and were so busy with
their soup that they did not look beyond their own
plates until they were empty, and did not stop
eating for even one glance at him. "They are so
impolite to strangers, these people!" said he to
himself; but for all that, he kept his yellow eyes

wide open, and his silver feathers glistened bravely.
There was a tumbler near him, in which he could
see himself, and that was a great pleasure.
In a few minutes one of the children saw him
and shouted, for she thought he was a new play-
thing. Oh, please let me take that dear little
fat silver bird! said she, and all the children
looked around until they saw him too. Now, our
friend the pepper-owl was proud of his figure, and
he did not like to be called a little fat silver bird;
but being polite as well as proud, he said nothing.
Each of the children begged that he might be her
own; but their father said he was not to be given
away-he meant to keep him for himself. Then
he showed them that the owl was not a plaything





at all; for he unscrewed his head, and holding it
toward the light, they saw that the top was full of
little holes, and the rest of the owl was hollow.
"He is meant to hold pepper," said papa.
Can we take turns in having him stand beside
our plates? said Nelly.
I think he is too pretty for pepper," said little
Patty; and Kate asked if Bridget could not fill
him with pepper at once, so that they might begin
to use him that very day. "He will look so nice
on the table!" said she; but Patty thought it
would have been great fun to have kept him a day
or two for a plaything.
It was some time before he was brought back to
the table, for Bridget and Nora looked at him in the
kitchen, and by this time the pepper-owl felt quite
contented, and was sure he should like the family,
they all thought he was so handsome. When he
was brought back at last, Nelly had the first shake,
because she was the oldest, and he sent a generous
shower into her plate. Papa said, "Don't shake
him so hard, my dear; you know I don't like your
eating too much pepper,"-but it was not Nelly's
fault, it was the owl's. "I might have known
better," said he to himself; and when Kate had
shaken him, and it came Patty's turn, she could
hardly see a grain of pepper fall on her potato;
but she was glad, for she did not like anything
biting to the tongue, and only wished to shake
the owl because her sisters had done so, and she
liked to do as they did. One does not like to be
left out of any pleasure.
After this, Nelly stood him just in front of her
plate, and could hardly eat her dinner, he was so
Now I will tell you about the fluffy-owl.
Only the week before this, all three of the chil-
dren had spent an afternoon at the natural history
rooms, and while the other girls had walked about
with their father, little 'Patty had lingered a long
time before a case of stuffed owls. She had never
seen but one before, and that was in a shop-window
when she was out walking one day with Nancy.
Here there were brown owls with feather horns and
brown owls without, and gray owls and white owls,
large and small, from the great Arctic owl down
to one little fellow hardly larger than the pep-
per-owl himself. He sat all by himself in the
lower left-hand corner of the case, seeming very
lonely and dismal, and his soft little gray feathers
were almost like fur. Patty looked at him a long
time by herself, and then she brought her father
there to see the owl, and asked him to buy it; but
papa said he could not buy any of the things in the
cases, though perhaps he could find her just such
a fluffy-owl in a shop some day. Patty went back
four or five times to look at the little owl once more,

and wished for him with all her heart; and, to tell
you the truth, the fluffy-owl knew it, and he prom-
ised to make her a visit some time; but she did
not hear him. And the pepper-owl also knew when
he came that Patty liked him, and said that he
would call upon her that very night; but Patty did
not hear that either.
Now I will tell you a little more about Patty.
Her two elder sisters, Nelly and Kate, were very
apt to think that little Patty was too young to
know a great deal; but, in fact, she knew much
more about some things than they did, just because
she was young.
That day when they were to go to the natural
history rooms, they both thought she would be
tired, and would not understand, and that it would
be best to leave her at home with Nancy, who was
taking all the care of them while their mamma
was away. Kate said that Patty did not know any-
thing about animals; but, though Patty could only
read the very least little bit, she had used her ears
in hearing Nancy read, and had used her eyes in
seeing the pictures in books; so she had grown
wiser than anybody suspected, and insisted upon
going with them. Papa did not mind taking her,
for she was a good little girl, and did not give him
trouble; so she went, and enjoyed herself very
much. She had been there some time before she
saw the fluffy-owl on his perch, and, as I have told
you, she liked him, and pitied him so much that
she could not help going back four or five times
to look at him. She felt that he liked to have her
come back, and he did not look cross like the
great owls in the case. She was almost sure he
was alive, though papa had told her all the birds
were dead. But the fluffy-owl's eyes were bright,
and he seemed to look after her.
Now the story begins to be about the Pepper-
owl, the Fluffy-owl, and little Patty-all together.
It was that very night after Pepper-owl had come.
Patty had gone to bed, and Nancy had gone down-
stairs. Soon after this, our little friend heard some-
thing scratching at the window; so she sat up in bed,
and looked that way. There was certainly some-
thing trying to get through the mosquito-bar, and
in another minute it had torn a little hole, and
was poking its head through the netting. Finally,
it came flying across the room, and lit on the foot-
board of the bed. It sat there, round and trig,
and little Patty knew at once that it was the fluffy-
owl from the natural history rooms.
"You are very kind to come so far to see me,
you dear owl! said Patty.
I have not been out before for several weeks,"
said the fluffy-owl; "and I assure you this is a
great pleasure, only my wings are stiff. The peo-
ple who dust left the case open when they went




away to-night, so I have escaped for a time; but
I must be back before morning. It is a very stu-
pid place sometimes, though, to be sure, one may
learn a great deal in such fine society from all
parts of the world."
You poor thing," said little Patty, I have a
great mind to keep you; I can shut you up in the
garret of the baby-house in the day-time, and you
can go where you please at night. I truly will not
forget to feed you."
But that would be stealing me, you know,"
said the fluffy-owl.
I did n't think of that," said little Patty, who
felt much mortified.
Now there was another scratching, and this time
it was at the door which led from the hall into
Patty's room. It was not a minute before the door.
swung open a little way, and in marched the kit-
ten, and after her something that glistened. It was
the pepper-owl. The kitten hurried across to the
big chair where 7' .,,:; sat and sewed in the day-
time, and after turning round and round on the
cushion, she settled down and went to sleep. Patty
laughed aloud,-it was such fun to see the silver
owl walk along the floor. His legs were too short
altogether, and so he moved slowly, and then he
had to make three attempts to fly as high as the
foot-board, where the other owl sat. Finally he
succeeded, and perched himself beside the fluffy-
owl, who turned and shook claws with him, and then
they kissed each other with affection.
How nice that you know each. other! said
Patty. "I am so glad to see you both And
here both her guests made an elegant bow, though
the pepper-owl's claws slipped on the smooth, hard
wood, and he nearly fell head-foremost. Some
pepper shook down on the bed, and Patty and the
other owl both sneezed twice; and after this the
fluffy-owl held up first one foot and then the other,
and winked his eyes and ruffled' up his feathers,
until he was more like a ball than a bird. He
looked softer and fluffier than ever, and Patty
asked him to fly down and let her smooth him
with her hand, which he kindly did. The pepper-
owl came down with a bounce, and told Patty she
might smooth him too; but he could not fluff up
his feathers at all, and he was sprinkled with
grains of pepper, so she did n't care to have him
too near.
Dear Patty," said the fluffy-owl, we both like
you dearly, and we have come to play with you.
Don't you think it would be nicer if you were about
as tall as we are ?"
If you will make me grow tall again when you
go away," said Patty; for you know none of my
clothes would fit me, though I could borrow from
the dolls."

That will be all right," said the owls and
each took hold of one of her hands and pulled,
and in a few minutes Patty was only three or four
inches tall. And she saw some of the dolls' clothes
near by; so she dressed herself in them, and then
she and the pepper-owl and the fluffy-owl danced
around the room together. The pepper-owl was a
clumsy creature, and the others laughed until they
could laugh no longer at his capers, though they
were much troubled because he would persist in
carelessly spilling his pepper, and they sneezed and
sneezed until Patty had to hunt up one of the dolls'
pocket-handkerchiefs for herself, and one for the
Now what shall we do? asked the pepper-
owl. It shall be anything Patty chooses."
." I always thought I should like to go to the
place where, the white clouds live," said Patty;
( and if one were just starting we could have a
ride, you know."
"That is too far," said the pepper-owl. "I
could n't fly there in a year."
"And are the stars too far ? said Patty.
The stars are beyond the clouds," said the
fluffy-owl; only the great owls can fly so far as
that. You must choose some nearer place."
' "Suppose we go to see the dolls in the baby-
house," said Patty; "you know I am just the
right size, and it will be such fun So they all
went to the baby-house door and knocked. Black
Dinah, the kitchen doll, came at once, and
was very glad to see them. She had on her new
bright turban, which Patty had given her the day
before. She said the ladies were at home, and had
been wishing somebody would come in. Before
they went upstairs to the parlor, Patty showed
the owls her baby-house kitchen and the cellar
where the provisions were kept. It seemed funny
to Patty to be going up the baby-house staircase
herself, and to be just the right height to take hold
of the railing; and the steps were just high
enough, too. The owls hopped up after her with
both feet at once, and followed her into the parlor,
where all the dolls sat with their very best dresses
on. That is the reason their nice clothes wear
out so soon," thought Patty; they wear them at
night." But she did n't say anything, for they
looked so pretty; and it would not have been
polite to have scolded them before the owls.
The owls perched themselves on two little otto-
mans which Patty had made out of small blocks
of wood, with blue paper pasted on; they said they
preferred them to chairs. The dolls evidently
thought the pepper-owl very handsome; and,
indeed, he did shine gallantly, and his eyes seemed
to grow larger and larger. The fluffy-owl puffed
up his feathers several times and settled them again,



and the dolls thought it was very funny, and did
not hesitate to say that they were the most inter-
esting visitors who had ever been in the Baby-
Patty thought now that it would be best for her
to go upstairs to see two of the dolls who had
been taken very ill with scarlet fever the day
before, and asked her favorite doll Bessie to go
with her. It was so nice to walk upstairs arm-in-
arm with Bessie, and they stopped and kissed each

went in, the other dolls had pulled a table to the
middle of the floor, and all sat round; the owls,
however, being still perched on the ottomans,
which they thought very comfortable. The dolls
had been trying to learn them to play dominoes,
as they had had a present of a new box just the
right size, and hardly larger than Patty's thumb
before she had grown small. But the owls were
dreadfully stupid, and could not be made to learn;
so one of the dolls proposed that they should all


other half-way, and gave each other such a hug!
Bessie said she wished Patty need never grow
large again, and that they could always live
together; and our friend herself thought it would
be pleasant. She had never known what a nice
place the baby-house was. The sick dollies seemed
to be much better; in fact, when Patty pulled off
the bits of red silk she had tied over their faces to
show what the matter was, they looked as well as
ever. She had had to stay in bed a long time
when she had the scarlet fever, so she had to say
no to the dolls when they wished to be dressed and
to go down to see the owls. Bessie and Patty had a
long talk before they went back to the parlor, sit-
ting by themselves on the stairs; and when they

sit round the fire and tell stories. There was a
beautiful fire in the little grate, made of bits of
real coal, and a great deal of red tinsel which had
come off a card of pearl buttons; and though this
was in summer, the dolls always kept the fire burn-
ing, and did not feel too warm.
The dolls passed round some candy which Patty
had left in the baby-house closet the day before;
but the pieces were hard, and altogether too large.
Patty said to herself that she must always have
something for the dolls to give- their friends who
came to see them at night; they must have felt
badly to have no refreshments for them. But
Patty never had known before that they were not
sound asleep all night like herself.




The pepper-owl was now requested to tell a
story. So he said he only knew one, and he should
like to tell it very much. It was about seven kit-
tens; and, first, they should hear an interesting
story about each little kitten separately, and then
there was a nice long story about all the family
"Don't you know a shorter story?" asked the
other owl, "as we cannot stay much longer-at
least I cannot."
Strange to say, the pepper-owl was very angry,
and would not tell any story at all; and all the
dolls tried to persuade him to change his mind,
and even asked him to tell about the seven kittens;
but he looked cross, and was certainly disobliging,
though one of the dolls, whose name was Adeline,
made up this little poem, hoping it would please
him, which it luckily did:
STell me about the kittens, love!
I long to hear you speak.
Oh, tell me everything you know!
Unclose that silver beak.
Oh, do not look so sad, my dear !
And cease that dismal scowl:
Smile gently with your yellow eyes,
My useful pepper-owl!"
After this, I have no doubt that he would have
told the story; but the fluffy-owl said it was time
for him to go home. Patty and her doll Bessie
were very sorry to say good-bye, though they could
see each other in the morning. They had been
sitting on the baby-house sofa, holding each other's
hand, and had grown much fonder of each other
than ever they had been before.
All the dolls urged their visitors to stay longer;

and as they could not do that, they promised to
come again very soon.
Before the owls could go away, they had to pull
Patty up again, and make her tall; but this did
not seem much trouble. First, they stood on a
book which had fallen on the floor, and pulled from
that; next, they mounted a cricket, and next a
chair, and afterward the bed. They made her a
little taller than she had been in the first place, and
several people said, during the next week: "How
fast Patty grows "
The fluffy-owl went out through the hole in the
mosquito-bar, and pulled it together afterward so
that nobody would know there had been a hole.
The pepper-owl stood on the window-sill, and said,
" Good-night-come again in the most good-
natured way. That was one good thing about the
pepper-owl-his fits of anger were very short, and
he was always sorry afterward. Perhaps it was the
pepper which made him lose his temper, poor
thing He waked the kitten, for she had to show
him the way to and from the dining-room. You
know he had only come to Patty's house that day.
In the morning, it was Patty's turn to have the
pepper-owl stand beside her plate, and she told
him softly that she wished he would come upstairs
again and tell her that story about the seven kit-
tens. He looked very stupid, and said nothing;
but the light was shining in his eyes, and owls do
not like that. Patty thought it would be nicer to
have F1L F, -.:... and was just going to tell her
father so ; but she remembered it would be likely
to hurt Pepper-owl's feelings. I dare sdy our
friends will go calling again some night, and if they
do, of course I shall tell you about it.



I THINK of a pictured saint,
With a halo round the hair,
As she sits, so motherly, grave and quaint.
In her little rocking-chair.
Her dolly is on her breast,
And her tender-lidded eyes
Gaze softly downward on its rest-
Loving, Madonna-wise.
What is the lullaby she sings
As back and forth she swings and swings?
See, saw,
Marjorie Daw !"




What words for a cradle song!
But I know the sleepy sign:
She will croon awhile, and then ere long
Will leave her chair for mine;
And her voice will sink away
To a feeble nestling's caw,
Till the little tongue can scarcely say-
" See, saw, Marjorie Daw!"
Now, back and forth we swing and. swing,
But it is only I who sing-
See, saw,
Marjorie Daw!"



Not a dimpled baby at all
Is this which her arms caress,
But it bears the mark of many a fall,
And is sadly scant of dress.
And the washed-out cheeks display
Proof that it must have lain,
After some tired summer play,
Out overnight in the rain.
Yet doth the little mother sing
Tenderly to the battered thing-
See, saw,
Marjorie Daw!"


HE was not the frog that "lived in a well," nor
"the frog who would a-wooing go;" in fact, he was
not a frog at all at the time I first knew him. He
had a tail, and a name very much longer than
"frog," although he himself was very much smaller
than any frog that I ever saw or heard of; but as
he grew larger his name and his tail grew shorter,
until, when he was full grown, he had no tail at
all, and his name had only four letters instead of
the eight that it had at first.
When he was very small indeed, he had a great
many long, funny names. "Polliwog" was the
one he was called by most, but sometimes he was
called polliwiggle, and purwiggie, and purwiggle
and polliwig.
When he was a little larger, and had got past
being a baby, they called him Master Tadpole;"
and when he was full-grown they called him Mr.
He lived in a little pond at the edge of a wood-
a mud-puddle some folks would call it, for it was
rather a dirty pond, and as you passed it, you
would not think there could be anything worth
looking at in it. It was not very deep; the bottom
was covered with leaves and sticks that had fallen
from the trees, and in one place there was half of a
crockery plate that a picnic party had broken and
thrown away.
This old plate was covered with a little plant
that grew all over it. The plant was not a bit like
any of the trees or plants that grow in the woods
or gardens, or even like anything in a green-
It did not have any stem or leaves, and it was
not fastened to the ground by roots, and it never
had any flowers or fruit. It looked more like a
coat of dirty green paint than like a plant.
In some places it was cleaned off from the plate in
narrow, zigzag lines, as if some one had been poking
the plate with a stick, and had scraped it off in
this way. At the end of one of- these lines was a
snail eating his dinner off the plate, and his dinner
was this little plant. As he ate it, he crawled
along, eating all the time, so that behind him the
plate was white and clean, and this is what made
the lines on it. Each line was a path the snail had
crawled over, trying, like Jack Sprat and his wife,
to eat the platter clean.
Then there was an old tin can that had been
thrown into the pond, and was nearly buried in the
leaves that had fallen into the water. There was a

plant fastened to this, too, but not a bit like either
the one on the plate, or any of the common land-
It was made of long green threads, tangled and
twisted, so that it made a large green bunch that
floated under the surface of the water, over the tin
can; and a few of the threads had become twisted
around the cover of the can, so that the bunch
was anchored and could not float away.
It looked quite large as it floated in the water,
but it was really very small, and might easily have
been squeezed into a coffee-cup. It was not a
pretty plant, for part of it was dead and brown,
and it was covered with dust and pieces of leaves
and sticks that were tangled in with the threads of
the plant; but it was a very useful plant, and was
at work all the time.
Its work was to make fresh air for the fishes and
polliwogs, and other animals that lived in the water;
for water animals need fresh air as much as we do,
and die very quickly if they cannot get it; but they
cannot go out of the water for it, and they cannot
breathe it unless it is mixed with water.
When a fish is taken out of the water he dies,
and we say that he dies for want of water; but he
really dies from want of air. A fish breathes with
its gills, and as soon as it is taken out of the water
its gills stick together, and become dry and hard,
so that it cannot breathe, although there is plenty
of air all around it.
When water is boiled, the air that is in it bub-
bles up to the top, and goes away; and if you let
it cool, and then put a fish in it, he will die about
as quickly as if he were out of water; but if you
shake it up well and pour it back and forth through
the air from one dish to another, so that the air
may get mixed with it, the fish will be able to live
in it.
This shows that the fish does not breathe the
water, but the air that is mixed with it; so this
plant worked all the time to make pure air for the
fish, and as fast as it was made the water soaked it
up, as it soaks up sugar.
You could not see the air in the water, any more
than you can the sugar dissolved in tea or in water;
but you can find the sugar by tasting, and the fish
can find the air by breathing.
You know that if you put too much sugar into a
cup of tea, some of it does not dissolve, but sinks
to the bottom, and is wasted. So sometimes, when
the weather was very warm and the sun was shin-






ing brightly, the plant would make air faster than
the water could take it up, and it would bubble up
to the top; but some of the bubbles would get caught
among the threads of the plant, and at last there
would be so many of these that the whole bunch
would go up, like a balloon, to the top of the water,
and spread out like a green cover, so that you
could hardly see the water under it.
People call this plant frog-spit, sometimes, and
think it is a very useless thing; but you understand
now that it is very useful to the fish and polliwogs,
if it is not very handsome. The things which look
the best are not always the most useful.
At one side of the pond the water was very shal-
low, and the bottom was muddy; and this part of
the pond, the part farthest from the trees, is where
I first saw our frog. He was lying on the muddy
bottom, with his brothers and sisters.
I am afraid to tell you how many there were, but
it was a very large family. There were more than
there are children in the school you go to, and the
ground was black with them, although each one

was not much larger than a shoe-peg or a carpet
tack, and only a few feet off there was another
family just as large. They were little black fellows
with very big heads, very small bodies, and long,
broad tails. When I saw them, all of them were
wagging their tails very fast, but their heads were
so heavy that the motion of the tails did not move
them a bit. It looked very much as if all the tails
wanted to go somewhere, but the heads were
very comfortable where they were, and would not
Now I must tell you how I made the acquaint-
ance of one out of this large family. While I was
looking at them, I saw a friend of mine who owns a
microscope, and often goes off wading in the mud
with his pockets full of wide-mouthed bottles, and
small vials, and pill-boxes, and magnifying-glasses,
and forceps, and glass tubes, and a great many
other strange things which he finds very useful.
He goes off into the swamps and ponds, and
finds a great many strange plants and wonderful
animals, and takes them home in his bottles to
look at in his microscope, and to study; for he finds
a great many things may be learned from each one
of them.
He had a cane in his hand, and when he came
to the little pond he took a long strip of whalebone
out of one of his deep pockets, and bending it in a

loop around the end of the cane, like Fig. I, he
slipped two rubber rings around it to hold it. Then

... .-.--

he took a small bottle, with ...--.. .... -'-il'
a very wide mouth and ,.
a broad rim around the
neck, from another pocket, ......-----.....
and slipped the neck of
the bottle through the
whalebone loop; and when FIG. 2.-THE SCOOP.
he had pulled the whale-
bone tight around it, he had a very good ready-
made scoop on the end of his cane, as you see in
Fig. 2.
With this he reached out to where the .iih.. .:.o,
were lying on the mud, and scooped up three or
four of them, and put each one into a little vial of
water and handed me one to examine; and this is
the way I made his acquaintance, for this is the
frog I am to tell you about; for my friend said that
if I would take it home and put it into a tumbler
of water, with some of the mud and pieces of stick
from the bottom of the pond, I could keep it, and
watch it grow up, and lose its tail and get legs,
and become a perfect frog.
As my friend the naturalist said he was hunting
for frogs' eggs, I went around the pond with him
after I had found a few pieces of wood covered with
water-moss to keep with my young frog.
We soon found what looked like a large lump of
jelly fastened to some grass that grew in the water
a few feet from the shore. This, the naturalist


said, was a bunch of frogs' eggs, and he reached
out and pulled it toward the shore with the handle
of his cane; and as soon as it was near enough
for me to reach it, I broke off part and put it into
a bottle of water.



It looked very much like the white of a hen's
egg, but it was firmer and stronger, and filled with
little round black specks about as large as small
These black specks are the real eggs, and the
clear jelly is a cover to keep them from harm and
fasten them together, so that they
may not drift off and be destroyed or
injured. The jelly also supplies food
for the young animals when first )
hatched; for nothing is ever wasted
or thrown away in nature, and the OLG.DE 4GS.
same jelly that is a blanket to wrap up
the eggs and keep them from harm is used as
food as soon as there is no more need of a cover.
When the time comes for the young to leave the
eggs, they very sensibly eat their way out through
their nourishing blanket, and their child-life be-
Fig. 3 is a rough sketch of some of the eggs, so
that you may see how they look; but you may
easily find 'some for yourselves in the spring, and
keep them in water and watch them hatch, and see
the young eat their way out.
After we had put this bottle of eggs away, we
found another bunch, in which the eggs were older,
and in these we could see the little polliwogs curled
up; and in a few eggs around the outside of the
bunch, the little animals were moving very actively,
and seemed to be trying to break out and go
away. Fig. 4 will give you some idea how they
looked at this time, just before leaving the egg.
Besides these eggs, we found some that were not
in bunches fastened to water-plants, but in long
strings, floating in the water. These, my friend
said, were the eggs of a toad. Then we found
others on the plants, but not in bunches; these are
the eggs of tree-frogs. The tree-frog lives on high
trees all summer and catches mosquitoes and in-
sects, and never goes into the water except in

r~v -r-^8
4 .- e

spring, when it goes there to lay its eggs, and im-
mediately returns to its life in the trees.
The young stay in the water until they become
perfect frogs, when they leave it, and go to help

their parents catch mosquitoes among the branches
of the trees. One kind of tree-frog does not even
go to the water to lay its eggs, but fastens them to
the leaves of branches which hang over the water,
and as soon as the young polliwogs are hatched
they fall into the water and grow up there; for
nearly all frogs must live in the water while they
are in the polliwog state, because they cannot then
breathe unless the air is mixed with water, in the
way that I have already explained to you.
While searching the pond, we found one more
instance of an excellent way to protect the eggs
from danger. I noticed several blades of grass
that were bent so as to form loops, and in each loop
was a little egg, perfectly protected on all sides by
the piece of grass. These eggs were very much
like those of a frog or toad, but smaller; and my
friend said they were the eggs of the water-triton,
an animal much like a frog.
I have now told you how I found my young frog
and took him home with me, ahd I will go on and
give you some account of the way I kept him and
watched him grow up.
At first I put him into a tumblerful of water
with the little plants I had brought home with me;


but in a few days I made a much better home for
him. I found an old glass candy-jar, and put in
the bottom of it a layer of mud from the pond
where I found the frog and eggs, with a few white
pebbles and small shells on the mud, and then
filled the jar with spring-water; and after all the
mud had settled to the bottom, I laid in a few
stones, which were covered with the little plant
which looks so much like green paint; and I put
in also a few threads of the other plant I spoke of,
which floats in a large bunch in the water, and two
or three of the little plants which float on the sur-
face of the water. Then I set my jar on a large
plate, and placed it in a window, so that the sun-

light should strike it, and left it in the sunshine for
a few days, until I could see little bubbles of air
glistening on the plants and rising to the surface
of the water.
I knew then that they would keep the water pure
and fresh, and that, if I put a few animals into the
water, they would not die, but would be healthy
and contented. So I put in my polliwog, and then
went back to the little pond and found two water-
snails, a very small minnow, and a water-beetle,
and brought them all home with me in bottles





of water, and put them into my jar and moved
it away from the window, so that the sun should
not shine directly on it and make the water too
Then I filled the edges of the plate outside the
bottom of the jar with dirt, and planted some

grass-seed in it, that the grass might grow up and
help to keep the water shady and cool, as well as
hide the layer of mud in the bottom.
In a short time, after the grass began to grow
up around the jar on the outside, and the water-
plants had begun,to grow nicely on the inside, I
had a very pretty aquarium, and one in which my
animals seemed very happy.
I kept my frog in this jar for more than four
weeks, and watched him grow up; and during this
time I noticed a great many remarkable things,
but the most interesting were the changes that the
frog went through while he was growing up; and
we' must let the other animals go at present, and
give all our attention to him.
A few days after the young frog breaks from the
egg, it looks, when viewed from above, very much

as I have drawn it for you in Fig. 7, which is a
view of its back.
It has a very large head, a small body, and a long
tail; and as it has no legs or feet, it uses its tail to
swim with, like a fish; for a fish, you know, swims
with its tail, and not with its fins, which are only
balancers. On each side of its head it has three little
tufts, which are very delicate and soft; these are
the gills, with which it breathes the air that is
mixed with the water, just as a fish does; and if
it is taken out of the water, it drowns like a fish,
and if we did not know that it would at last grow
up and get legs,.and lose its tail and gills, and live
on land and breathe air, we should probably call it
a fish.
After ten days or two weeks it has lost its gill-
tufts, but instead of them it has a new set on each
side of its neck; but covered up by a lid or flap, so
that you cannot see them from the outside; and
about this time the fore-legs begin to grow, but as

they are covered up by the same lid that hides the
gills, you cannot see them either. In Fig. 8 you
have a side view of the animal at this time, and
you can see the slit in the side of the neck, and
the lid or flap that hides the gills and the fore-
Very soon after this the hind-legs begin to grow,
and as they are not covered up, they can be seen
sooner than the fore-legs; and it is usually said in
books on this subject that the hind-legs grow first;
but books are not always right on every subject.
The fact is, the fore-legs grow first, but are covered
up so that the hind ones are seen first.
Fig. 9 shows you the animal at this time, viewed
from above. The tail begins to grow smaller soon
afterward, and lungs begin to be formed, but the
animal still lives in the water, and breathes by gills
like a fish.
In the next state (Fig. o1) the legs are fully
formed, so that the animal can walk as well as


swim, and the lungs are quite well grown, and the
gills have nearly disappeared. The tadpole can
now go on the land, but it still passes almost all
its time in the water. As it has no gills, it cannot
breathe under water, and is compelled to come up
to the surface very often for fresh air.
At this time the tail is growing smaller very rap-
idly. It does not drop off, but is taken up a little
at a time, and carried back into the body and used
to build up the other parts, which are growing
larger very fast, while the tail is growing smaller.
It is very wonderful that a part of the body which

'----- --

is no longer of use can be built over into something
else in this way.
About five or six weeks after the egg is hatched,
the tail has almost disappeared, and the frog is
perfectly formed and leaves the
water to commence life on the
S land; and as very many of them
reach this form at about the same
time, and leave the water to-
FIG. IT gether, usually during a shower,
some people believe that the
great numbers of little frogs which they find on the
land after a summer shower have rained down.




A young frog might be carried up among the
clouds by a water-spout or a whirlwind, and come
down again in the rain, but this is not the reason
they are so plentiful after a shower; for we know
that they leave the water in great numbers when
it rains.
In Fig. II you see how the young frog looks
when the tail is almost gone.
Besides these changes in the body of the animal,
an equally great change in its habits takes place
while it is growing up. While it lives in the water
and breathes by gills, it feeds upon small water-

plants; but when it grows up and has lungs, and
the legs grow, it changes its diet and lives on
insects and worms; and some of the larger frogs
catch fish and smaller frogs, and the large bull-
frog is said to catch small birds and eat them.
' The way in which a frog catches flies and mos-
quitoes is very curious; and it is very easy to tame
a frog or toad so that it will take flies from your
fingers, and give you a fine chance to see how it
is done, if your eye is quick enough.
Its tongue is fastened to the front of the mouth
instead of the back part, and is turned backward
and points down the throat, and the tip is covered
with a very sticky substance like strong glue. The
frog sits very still, watching for a fly to come near,
and seems to be almost asleep, but it is really wide
awake, as you may see by looking at its eyes, which
are in constant motion watching for an insect to
come within reach. At last a fly comes near
enough, and the tongue is thrown out so quickly
that the eye can hardly follow its motion, and the
point strikes the fly, which sticks fast, and is drawn
into the mouth and swallowed; and on a summer
evening, when the flies and gnats are very abun-
dant, one toad will catch them at the rate of ten or
twelve a minute.
You see that the body of a young frog is not
as much like that of an old one as a squirrel's
body is like a man's; for a squirrel has four limbs
like a man, and breathes with lungs as a man does,
and would drown in the water just as a man would;
but the young frog lives under water all the time,
while the full-grown one is a land animal, although
it often goes into the water, and nearly always lives
near it, in damp places.
The young frog breathes by gills, and would die
very quickly if taken from the water; but the old
one has lungs, and would die if kept under water,
just as a man would, only not so quickly, for it

can hold its breath for a very long time; and the
skin of a frog answers the purpose of, gills, and he
can breathe a little under water with that, and thus
go without fresh air for several days, if necessary,
without drowning. Finally, the young frog lives on
entirely different food from that of the full-grown
There are a great many animals which are so
much like a frog or a toad, that men who have
studied them have placed them all in one class,
and given them a name which means "living in
water and on land; because all of them, like the
frog, pass the first part of their life in the water,
and are able to breathe air without water when full-
These animals belong to the class Ampkibia,
and are called amphibious animals. We have in
our own country examples of most of the forms
belonging to this class, and I wish to tell you a
little about some of the more common ones, as it
will help us to understand the meaning of the
changes that the frog goes through.
If you go, in summer, to some cool ravine,
where the dead leaves lie thick and damp, and sit
down beside some old fallen tree or large rock,
and carefully turn over the cool, wet leaves, you
will find a great many curious and interesting
animals. Do not be afraid, for nothing will hurt
you; but handle every living thing carefully, for
remember that, although snails or beetles cannot
hurt you, you may easily kill them by a little
There is another reason why you must be very
careful in turning over the leaves. The animal I

wish you to find is very timid and very quick, and
if you are not gentle you will drive it away, and
will not see it at all. You must go down very
deep, to the leaves which have lain on the ground

-*-- ,-,-^-----

<- 4

for several years, and are all matted together, and
there you may find the little animal of which I
have given you a sketch in Fig. 12. It is about




an inch long, covered with bright spots, and with
very bright eyes.
Do not be afraid of it, for it is perfectly harmless
to anything larger than a fly; but if you wish to
catch it, you must be very quick, and hold your


fingers close together, for it can run out between
them almost as easily as water. It moves so
quickly, and is so delicate, that you can hardly
catch it without injuring it; and, as it usually lies
quite still in the day-time, when it is not alarmed,
it is much better to take a good look at it without
trying to catch it at all.
It- has a long tail, and four legs that look very
weak, and in shape it resembles a very small alli-
gator, or a lizard; but alligators and lizards have
scales, and this animal has none.
It is called a salamander, and was once sup-
posed by ignorant persons to be very poisonous;
but, as I have said, it is entirely harmless and very
timid. It does not look at all like a frog, and you
may be surprised to hear that it is very closely
related to it.
It lives in the woods almost all the year, and
comes out and catches insects every summer night,
and hides under the leaves all day; for it dies very
quickly in the hot sunshine. When fall comes,
and all the insects die, it finds a warm place under
ground, and sleeps till spring.
When it wakes up it goes to the water to lay its
eggs, and wraps each one in a blade of grass to
protect it, as is shown in Fig. 6. The eggs hatch
into little polliwogs, which are almost exactly like
those of a frog, and as they grow up they go through
the same changes. They have gills at first, and live
in the water, and swim with their tails, and feed on
plants; but as they grow up the front-legs appear;
then the hind-legs, and they lose their gills, and
have lungs, and become air-breathers, and feed
on insects. They never lose their tails, so that,
although the full-grown animal is not a bit like a
full-grown frog, it is very much like one just before

it loses its tail, as you may see by comparing Figs.
I and 12.
Fig. 13 is an outline drawing of some of the
changes that an animal very much like it, found in
Europe, goes through; and you see how much like
those of the frog they are.
There is an amphibian found in the Southern
States, and called the mud-eel; it is quite a large
animal, and Fig. 14 will give you some idea of its
appearance. It lives in the mud of the swamps
Sand ditches of the South, and the negroes are very
Much afraid of it, and believe it to be very poison-
ous. I do not know of a poisonous amphibian in
any part of the world, yet almost all of them are
very much feared by ignorant persons in the coun-
tries where they are found.
Some reptiles are poisonous, and the amphibia
look like reptiles; and this seems to be the reason
why they have such a bad reputation.
The mud-eel resembles a tadpole at first, and
passes through the same changes; but it has only
one pair of legs, the fore pair, and when full-grown
resembles the form of the frog shown in Fig. 8,
where the fore-legs have begun to grow, but not
the hind ones; in one respect it goes farther than
the form shown in Fig. 8, for when full-grown it
has lungs as well as gills.
I have now shown you that all the forms except
the first that the frog takes as it grows up, are rep-
resented by full-grown animals; but the first state
is so like a fish, that we should call it a fish if it
did not grow up and become a frog.
You can now see the meaning of the changes of
the frog; for who would suppose, unless he knew
their history, that such animals as Figs. 9, 10, 1n,
12, 13, and 14 could be relations, or that they all
were related to fishes?






SFOUR little imps and four little birds
Lived up in the self same tree;
And the kindly ways of those four little imps
Was a beautiful sight to see.

They fed and tended those orphan birds
All through the blossoming days;
S And never were tired of sitting around
And watching their comical ways.

Their pitiful squeak they took for a song
S' As sweet as they ever had heard;
- i- And they sometimes laughed, and oftener sighed,
S In feeding each motherless bird.

So, gently they tended them, day by day,
Till their four little pets had grown,
And, longing to go to the beautiful sky,
S Each bird from the nest had flown.

7 -1;i.z And when all were gone, the four little imps
-i Did wipe their eight little eyes,
;, And scamper away to assuage their grief-
S.- Which seems to me rather wise.



AN enticing place it was for little folks. It stands
now just where it stood then-over the knoll, a few
rods from my childhood's home. The way to it was
down a broad, straight, dusty road, bordered with
rocks and raspberry-bushes. There was another
and a more popular route, of which I will tell you
I would like to sketch the old mill as it appeared
to my childish eyes. It had a smooth pine floor
with wide cracks, and many an hour have I passed
peering through them into the deep waters of the
flume beneath. It had a big beam with a piece of

china upon it, which I filled with nails and called
my money-box. It had a wonderful saw, with two
great arms. How I used to laugh when it fixed its
sharp teeth into the end of a log And after that,
the log seemed to slide along itself just for fun, or
for the sake of being split. I often got upon the
log-carriage and took a nice ride. I was not at all
afraid of bumping my head against the mill-roof,
which sloped at one end to an acute angle with*the
floor. Neither did I see the slightest danger of
losing my balance and falling through the timbers
a hundred feet or more, into the abyss of water




below. When I hopped off, I was so delightfully
near the back door that I never could resist the
inclination to skip out upon the ragged edge of the
mill-dam, to see how long I could stand there with-
out getting dizzy.
My mamma was an invalid. She could not bear
anxiety without serious injury. She passed a law
to the effect that I should not visit the mill unless
under the care of some older member of the family.
This law lay very heavily upon my heart. But it
would probably have never been transgressed had
not my cousin Frank visited us, a daring little ras-
cal about my own age.
Come across lots," he whispered, with that
persuasive eloquence so natural to boys.
So we crept through the bars, and the orchard
and the clover-field, round the big rock and under
the ash-tree, and, lastly, scrambled over the stone
wall, which was surmounted by a rail fence. It was
my first lesson in disobedience. But after that
Frank and I often went secretly to the mill- to-
The saw-mill belonged to a good-natured neigh-
bor, whom we styled "Uncle Willard." He petted
me, sometimes he gave me raisins, and called me
a venturesome little girl. I was not very happy
about it. .I remember how a bunch came in my
throat one night when I was saying my prayers,
and how I asked my mamma, when she kissed me
good-night :
If God is everywhere, does that mean that He
is in all the little places ?"
"Yes, my darling."
I was silent for a few minutes. "In the orchard,
and on the big rocks, behind the stone wall, and
away down by the little bridge-and-and-and-
and-in the saw-mill? "
"Yes, and he sees you at all times."
I said no more. I pressed my face into my pil-
low and thought to myself, "Oh, dear! then God
knows all abput it! I wonder what He will do to
me I 'spect He 'll punish me with fire, and I shall
be all singed up And I fell asleep and dreamed
I had a new play-house with a sawmill in the back-
yard, and that my dolls were all getting ready to go
to the moon on water-wheels.
The next day Alvey Stone came to visit me. We
played tea; and dressed the dolls in their best
clothes; and changed Violet's name to Esther,
because the latter was a Bible name, and we agreed
that it would make her a better doll; and trim-
med Rosabella's new bonnet with the ends of
Alvey's blue hair-ribbons, which she said were too
long, anyway; and made soap-bubbles, and tried
to set them on fire with the sickly flame of a
tallow candle; and went to the carriage-house to
play drive; and visited the hens and the geese and
VOL. III.-34.

the pigs and the calves and the pony; and ran
along the great beams in the barn; and played
hide-and-seek in the hay-mow. Finally, I said to
If you never'11 tell-never, NEVER, as long as
you live and breathe-I will take you somewhere."
She promised with satisfactory protestations. In
a few minutes we had reached the fence near the
mill. On the top of it Alvey stepped upon a teeter-
ing stone, and was thrown headlong into the briars
and thistles on the other side. She shed a few tears
over her bruises, and then laughed quite merrily,
and said she could fall twice as far if she were a
mind to.
"Uncle Willard" was haying in the lower mead-
ow, and no one was in the mill. I was glad, for
I had long coveted an opportunity of starting the
saw myself. How surprised Alvey would be!
Would n't she think I was grand if I could run
a saw-mill?
I proceeded to my task proudly. The log was
in the right place. "Uncle Willard" always fixed
everything at night ready for the next day's work.
It was necessary to push down a small shaft, which
I called a "pump-handle," in order to open the
water-gate, and it required the united strength of
both Alvey and myself to accomplish it. There
was a low gurgle, then a splash, and up went the
We screamed and clapped our hands. I grew
self-possessed in a moment, and told Alvey, with a
consequential air, that the saw was only walking
now. When we should push down the other two
".pump-handles," it would just fly on a double
canter. We soon had the machinery all in motion.
Alvey was perfectly awe-stricken. But my happi-
ness remained to be completed.
Come down under the mill and see the great
gush," I said.
There was a rough path by which the workmen
descended on the side of the mill, and, holding
fast to the alder-bushes by the way, we reached the
edge of the bed of the river in safety. Standing
upon a large stone, we could see the rolling, foam-
ing torrent as it whirled the mill-wheel and came
dancing madly over the rocks.
"What a big water exclaimed Alvey.
Yes," I replied, exultingly. It is just like the
cataract of Niagara in the geography."
Alvey's face was pale, and her eyes were suffi-
ciently large to reward me for my masterly per-
Are there any whales here?" she asked.
"Perhaps," I replied. If she had made the
same inquiry relative to steamboats and icebergs,
she would doubtless have received an affirmative
response at that interesting moment; for was it not




my exhibition, and was it not my privilege to put
it in the most attractive light?
The spray rendered our standing-place slippery,
and we put our arms about each other for mutual
protection. In attempting to turn a little we lost
our balance, and in an instant went spinning
into the uneasy water, to the bottom, where shiny
pebbles seemed to come half-way up to meet us,
then to the surface again, rolling and tumbling
until we were stranded insensible upon a small

to inspire two little helpless girls with speechless
Is it a flood ?" cried Alvey.
"I suppose so," I said, humbly now. I have
been doing awful disobedient lately. Mamma for-
bade my going to the mill, and God has been there
and watched me. Oh, dear! oh, dear! I had
ever so much rather been burned than drown-ded.
We are washed away just as the other wicked folks
were in the Flood," and I burst into a loud cry.

, i I ,

P I'%.;. ;I D ..',


hillock of weeds and brambles in the middle of
the river some distance below.
How long we remained there I am not able to
say. My first recollections are of a floating cloud,
which resembled a chariot. While I was wonder-
ing if it belonged to Elijah, I heard Alvey gasp:
"Mattie, I'll be drown-ded."
So shall I."
I took hold of a big burdock-leaf to pull myself
up, and that came up instead. Then a pine-shrub
gave me more efficient aid, and I sat upright. I
helped Alvey up, and we looked about us, but every-
thing was strange and new. The river on both
sides of us was tearing over the rocks, and high
wooded banks finished a picture well calculated

"I guess He will forgive you if you pray real
hard. I will help you, Mattie," said little Alvey,
I laid my face into a bunch of plantain and com-
menced a little petition, mixed with sharp, jerking
cries of sorrow.
By this time, the sudden rise of water in the
lower meadow had attracted the attention of the
haymakers. "Uncle Willard" went upon a run to
discover the cause. There was his mill making
boards on its own hook He shut the gate, and
looked about for the author of the mischief. He
was not a believer in ghosts, and mischievous boys
did not infest our neighborhood. He went straight
to my mamma's door and inquired for me,




Then there was much hurrying to and fro. It rough way, "Never mind it." It was he himself
was "Uncle Willard who explored the river and who put me in my terrified mamma's arms. With
rescued us from our perilous position. He asked mine tightly clasped about her neck, I said:
me no questions; he only kissed me and said, in his "I will never disobey you again-NEVER."



MRS. SWALLOW had just finished her nest, and
fastened it snugly on one side of the chimney, when
along came the North Wind in a terrible passion.
He had had a quarrel with some of his relations
in Greenland, and had rushed out, like the silly,
bad-tempered old fellow he was, to wreak his spite
on whatever came in his way.
So, growling and shrieking and whistling and
groaning, he blew off any number of hats, scared
hundreds of young blossoms from the cherry-trees
and left them to die on the road, rocked all the lit-
tle wooden houses like so many cradles, and then
flew from the streets to the chimneys.
Away went a brick here and there, and, alas! at
the second great puff, away went Mrs. Swallow's
nest too.
She had built it so carefully and wonderfully,
carrying up wisps of hay and bits of straw from the
tan-yard, and lining it with some of Gray Hen's
softest breast feathers !
And now where was it? "Ha! ha! ha!"
laughed the spiteful old Wind, ".wouldn't you
like to know ?"
Then he spied Mr. Swallow hurrying home with
a fine worm he had found, and he hastened to get
behind him and drive him along so fast that he
came bump up against Mrs. Swallow, nearly knock-
ing her from her perch, and at the same time
dropped the worm he had carried so far.
"Whew said Mr. Swallow when he got his
breath again. "This is a blow."
It's an ill wind that blows nobody good," mut-
tered the worm, as it crawled quickly away.
But what's the matter, my dear?" continued
Mr. Swallow. "Why do you look so serious ?
And-bless my heart where's our nest ?"
That horrid old North Wind snatched it from
the chimney, first tumbling m'e out and rumpling
all my feathers," answered Mrs. Swallow, with
tears in her round, black eyes. And now what
are we to do ? "
Cheer up, my own wee birdie," chirruped her

husband. "I can't bear to see you cry. We'll
get just inside the chimney until we are quite sure
he's gone, and then we '11 call on Madam Owl and
ask her advice. They say she has become so wise
through studying the stars night after night, and
night after night, that she knows everything, and
so, of course, she will be able to tell us what
to do."
"But, Swally," said Mrs. Swallow, "our family
don't like Madam Owl, and have never been
friends with per. Only the other day, when she
was dozing, I pulled a feather out of her head
That was very naughty, my dear," said Mr.
Swallow, looking as though he thought it rather
cunning, "but I don't believe she '11 remember it if
we are very polite to her and pay her some compli-
ments. And now you'd better take a little nap, for
Madam Owl only receives company at night, and
I'm afraid you can't stay awake when it becomes
dark unless you do."
So Mrs. Swallow, like an obedient wife, took a
nap, and Mr. Swallow did too, for that matter,
although he said, when Mrs. Swallow woke him,
"he'd only been thinking."
As soon as evening came, away they flew to the
old oak-tree where Madam Owl lived.
She had just supped off a plump young field-
mouse and was very good-natured, and listened
with the utmost patience until they had told their
story. Then she said, Tu-whit-tu-whoo! oh!
ah yes! "
"Was n't it too bad of the Wind?" asked Mrs.
"Tu-whit-tu-whoo! oh! ah! yes!" answered
the Owl.
Can you tell us what to do ?" asked Mr. Swal-
Madam Owl looked at the moon half-an-hour-
looked at the stars half-an-hour-looked at nothing
half-an-hour-and then said very slowly, "Tu-
whit-tu-whoo! oh! ah! n-o-o-o."




Good night," twittered the angry swallows, and
flew quickly back to their chimney again.
Much good it did us going to Madam Owl,"
said Mrs. Swallow, with a pout, as soon as they
reached home. I never did believe those stories
about her knowing so much. Why, if I said as
little and had as big eyes as Madam Owl, no
doubt all the birds would call me wise too. And

now I 'll tell you, my love, what I think we 'd bet-
ter do. Get up with the sun to-morrow morning-
make another nest, and fasten it on the other side
of the chimney."
Upon my word, my dear," said Mr. Swallow,
" you're an ex-traor-di-na-ry bird and being
very tired, he tucked his head under his wing and
went to sleep.

oil h. -' -i ;':: t ^. r :.- 1.......A'- ---:-. '

S-, -- -- -

E-- -- ---- --




AFTER leaving Salt Lake Valley, the young
emigrants passed into a wild, desolate, and barren
region. Immediately outside of the Mormon settle-
ments, they found a most unpromising country.
The surface of the earth was red and dusty-" red
hot," Hi said. No grass grew except in small dry
bunches, and the pools of water were thick and
brown with alkali, or they were boiling hot with
hidden fires. Some of these streams rushed out of
their fountains with a hurrying and hissing noise that
reminded the boys of a steamboat. Others.were
bluish pools of water, with clean and pebbly bot-
toms, and just warm enough to be comfortable for

a bath. Into these the weary and dusty travelers
plunged themselves with great content. The waters
seemed to be healing, they were so soft and pleas-
ant to joints stiffened by long marches, and to skins
made rough and dry by many days of travel on
alkali plains. The air was still loaded with the
alkali dust, like fine saleratus, which floated every-
where. But the natural hot-baths, steel blue in
their depths, and gurgling over stones covered with
some kind of white mineral deposit, were luxurious
beyond anything they had ever dreamed of.
Some of the hot springs were so near the cold
ones, that the boys tried experiments of dipping
their hands into a pool of cold water while their
feet dabbled in warm water, as they lay along the
ground. Once they came to a huge round pool,




nearly fifty feet across, black, still, and with neither
outlet nor inlet. Yet it was not stagnant; a slight
current showed that there was some sort of move-
ment going on beneath the surface.
I allow this yer pool runs down inter the bowels
of the earthh" said Philo Dobbs, pensively, as he
stood on the brink and gazed into the mysterious
Well, aint the bowels of the earth deep enough
to take down this hull pool at one smaller, if it runs
down so fur? asked Bush, with some impatience.
Stands to reason it would be all drawed off to
once-t, if the bottom was clean dropped out."
"Anyway, there is no bottom," said Arty. "Lots
of people have sounded it and found none."
But Philo Dobbs was firm in his opinion that the
pool led directly into the center of the earth; and
Nance, as a dutiful daughter, informed the boys
that what her father did not know about such
things was not worth knowing.
They drew out from this region of wonders and
traversed an exceedingly dull and uninteresting
tract of country, lying between Salt Lake Valley
and the head-waters of the Humboldt River.
About three weeks' march from the Mormon
capital, late in August, they reached the Goose
Creek Mountains. Here good pasturage was found
by selecting spots along the creek, and here, too,
the road became more easy for the cattle, many of
which were weak and sick with the effects of alkali.
Passing down through Thousand Spring Valley,
the emigrants camped at the head of a rocky
cation, one night, two or three companies being
together. The ground was dotted with scrubby
knots of wild sage, grease-weed and cactus. The
soil was red and gray, and pebbly; but a small
stream slipped through a gulley near by, and along
its banks grew a scanty crop of grass, well browsed
by the innumerable cattle which had passed on the
way to California.
"This is awful lonesome," sighed Arty, as he
wearily went through the usual and monotonous
task.of getting supper.
Does n't pay, does it, Arty ? said his brother,
curiously watching the boy, with half-closed eyes,
as he turned his sizzling bacon in the frying-pan,
and kept his fire going with handfuls of dry weeds,
their only fuel.
No, Crogan, it does not pay. I'm getting
clean beat out. And there's poor old Pete, licking
his paws again. I can't keep shoes on that dog's
feet, and he has worn the skin off of them so that
he can hardly walk. Heigho! I wonder what
mother would say to this mess ? "-and Arty, with
great disgust, stirred in the flour which was to
thicken the bacon-fat and make "dope" to eat
with bread, instead of butter.

The thought of what his mother might say
brought water to the boy's eyes. This was Satur-
day night. Away off in the groves of the valley
of the Rock, his mother was drawing the New
England brown bread and beans from the brick
oven. His father, perhaps, was sitting in the
fading light by the door-way, looking westward and
thinking of his wandering boys. His brothers were
out at the well-curb, dipping their heads into the
water-trough with much rough play, and making
ready for their welcome Sunday rest.
Here was a wilderness, a desert, scanty fare, and
with the Land of Gold still a long way off.
"Hullo there's a drop of salt water running
down your nose, Arty," cried Tom, "and if it
drops into that dope, you '1 -- "
But Tom never finished his sentence, for at that
moment Mont, with righteous indignation, knocked
him off the roll of blankets on which he had been
Yer might let a feller know when you was
a-comin' fur him," said Tom, wrathfully, as he
scrambled out of the way.
Sarve yer right, yer grinnin' chessie-cat," said
Hi. "Yer'll never keep yer mouth shut. Now
hustle that thar coffee-pot onto the table, and we'll
sit by."
Tom, I beg your pardon," spoke up Mont
Morse. "I really did n't intend to knock you over,
only just to give you a gentle poke by way of
Tom sullenly eat his supper, without any com-
ment on his brother's remark that he was a very
"ornery blatherskite, anyway."
Somehow, the evening was more gloomy and
cheerless than usual; and, as it was now necessary
to keep a sharp watch for thieves who were prowl-
ing about the trail, those who were to go out on
the second watch went early to their blankets.
The rest took their several stations about the edge
of the camp.
It was a little past midnight when the sleeping
boys were wakened by a shot, and the voice of
John Rose crying, Stop that man !"
Barnard broke out of the tent with a wild rush,
cocking his pistol as he ran through the low brush
in which the camp was set. In the cloudy night
he saw a light sorrel horse running close by the
side of Old Jim, and coming toward him. As the
horses passed swiftly across his vision, he saw a
man rise and fall, and rise and fall again in the
sage-brush-rise and fall and disappear in the
Pursuing him was John Rose, his tall figure and
bright red shirt making him conspicuous in the
gloom. Barney ran on, but the, fugitive was gone,
and Rose came back, excitedly saying:




"Dog on that chap I just believe I winged
him. Did you see him limp?"
Barney was not sure that he limped, but was
burning to know what it was all about.
I was sitting' behind that thar rock," said Rose,
"a-wonderin' about them stars just peekin' out of
the clouds, when I heern a cracklin' in the brush,
and if thar wa' n't a yaller hoss-a strange hoss-
sidlin' up, queer-like, as if somebody was leading'
him. I see no man, no lariat onto the hoss, when
he gets up alongside of Old Jim. Then he stops
short, and then I seen a man's legs on the off side,
and just in range of the sorrel's. I slid down from
behind the rock and crep' along on the ground
like, holding my rifle steady, when, all to once, the
chap jumps up on the sorrel and away he kited,
pullin' Old Jim after him."
Yes! yes and you fired then?"
"Fired! Well, I just allow I did, and you
should have seen that chap drop. But he got
away, and we have got his hoss-that's all."
Sure enough, the sorrel horse was found to have
a lariat, or halter, of twisted raw-hide about his
neck, one end of which had been knotted into the
rope which Jim wore loosely about his neck. There
was great excitement in the camp as the emigrants
woke and came out to see "what was up." Here
was the evidence of horse-thieves being about, and
the men expressed themselves as being in favor of
hanging the rascal-if he could be caught.
Ouch cried Barney suddenly, sitting down.
Bring a light, Johnny."
Barney's bare feet were filled with the prickly
spines of the ground-cactus.
Strange I never felt them until just now, and I
must have clipped it through that whole bed of
cactus plants."
But he felt them now, and, what was more, he
was lame for a week afterward.
Next morning, on examining the ground, the
boys discovered the tracks of the strange horse,
where, coming up to the regular trail from the
north, they crossed a damp patch of alkali earth,
breaking in the crust which forms on top when the
heat of the sun evaporates the alkali water. Nearer
the camps, the tracks were lost in the confused
beating of the feet of many passing animals. But
in the sage-brush, where Captain Rose had fired at
the horse-thief, the foot-prints were plainly seen.
In the loose sandy soil beyond were the tracks of
a man, left in the dry surface; and on the twigs
of a low grease-weed bush they saw a few drops of
"Yes, yes, he was wounded. I was sure of
that," cried Rose.
"And here is where he limped," said Hi, drop-
ping on his knees and examining the foot-prints in

the light gray soil. Come yere, Mont, and tell
us what you think of these yere. See! thar's a
print set squar' down; then yere's one that's only
light-like, just half-made."
Mont got down on his knees and followed the
tracks along. The man had fled in great haste.
Sometimes he had gone over the bushes, some-
times he had lighted in the midst of one. But,
here and there, was a print, sometimes of the right
foot, sometimes of the left; but one was always
lightly made-"half-made," as Hi said.
"That man limped, sure enough," said Mont,
finally. "But I guess he did n't limp from a
wound, though he may have been wounded. I
should say that he had a game leg."
A game leg !" repeated Johnny and Arty to-
"I allow you're right, Monty, my boy," said
Hi, who had been stooping again over the myste-


rious foot-prints. "That thar man had a game
leg, for sure."
Which leg was Bill Bunce lame of, Johnny ?"
demanded Barnard.
The left leg," replied the lad.




Arty looked up triumphantly from the ground
and exclaimed:
So was this man that tried to steal Old Jim."
It was Bill Bunce! It was Bill Bunce! I'm
sure it was," cried little Johnny, in great excite-
He looked at the foot-prints of the fugitive horse-
thief and fairly trembled with apprehension; he
could not have told why.
Oh sho I said Hi. "You must n't think that
every game-legged man you meet on the plains is
Bill Bunce. Why, thar was that feller that picked
up Barney's boots when they fell out of the wagon,
down at Pilot Springs. He wa' n't no Bill Bunce,
and he was the game-leggedest man I ever seen."
If he had not been too game-legged to wear
those boots, I am not so sure that Crogan would
have seen them again," laughed Mont.
"Well, boys, thar's nothing' more to be learned
of them foot-prints," said Hi. We may as well
get breakfast and be off."
But this is Sunday," said Barnard.
Yes," replied Hi, Sunday and no feed, and
no water. Camp here all day and starve the crit-
ters? Not much."
But we have never traveled Sundays," remon-
strated Mont.
Oh yes, we did, Mont," interposed Arty. Once
before, at Stony Point, you know we had to when
there was no grass; and we traveled from the Salt
Lick to Deep Creek on Sunday, because we had no
"Which is the Christianest, Mont,-to let the
cattle go without feed, or travel Sunday ?" asked
I don't know. I give up that conundrum."
So do I," said Hi, with. a grin.
They went on, however. Leaving Thousand
Spring Valley, and crossing several rocky ridges,
they descended and entered a long, narrow canon,
through which flowed a considerable stream.
Precipitous walls of rock rose up on either side,
leaving barely room for the narrow wagon-trail and
the creek. The trail crossed and recrossed the
stream many times, and the fording-places were
not all safe or convenient. But the day was bright
and pleasant, and high, high above their heads,
above the beetling crags, the blue sky looked cool
and tender.
A long train passed down the canion, the proces-
sion being strung out with numerous companies of
emigrants. They had got half-way through the
passage, which was several miles long, when, late
in the afternoon, the sky grew overcast, and thick
clouds gathered suddenly in the west.
"An awkward place to get caught in a shower,"
muttered Captain Wise. Thar's poor crossing

at the best of times, and if this yere creek should
rise, we'd be cut off in the midst of the cation."
But there is no danger of that, is there ?" said
Mont, who was striding along with the Captain.
Could n't say, Mont. These yere creeks do
swell up dreffle sudd'n sometimes." And he anx-
iously regarded the sky, from which a heavy shower
now began to fall.
The boys lightly laughed at the discomfort.
They were used to it, and, wrapping their heavy
coats about their shoulders, they plodded on in the
pouring rain.
It was four o'clock in the afternoon, and the
shower increased with such force that Hi, who was
behind with the team, shouted to Captain Wise:
Say, had n't we better lay by ? Yere's a place
whar we can turn in and let the others pass us."
The cattle's necks are getting' chafed with their
yokes," cried Tom, who particularly disliked get-
ting wet.
We must drive on until we're out of this yere
cation," was the Captain's only reply.
And they pressed on in the midst of a tempest
of rain. The sky overhead was only a narrow
patch between the frowning walls of the caton. It
was as black as ink.
They had now reached a sharp bend in the
caion; a huge elbow in the rocky precipice at the
left of the track came down and made a deep
recess just beyond it, where the trail turned in to
the left. On their right was the creek, now foam-
ing along in its stony bed, and opposite was a
sheer wall of rock rising into the low-hung clouds.
As they struggled around the corner of the rock
and entered a little elevated place, where the caion
widened, the tall angle behind them shut out the
trail down which they had just passed. Arthur,
hearing a strange whirring noise in the air, looked
back and up the caton. He saw an inky black
mass, tremendous and tumbling over and over,
drift helplessly over the wall of the cation, like a
huge balloon. It struck the opposite wall, and in
an instant the solid rock seemed to burst in cata-
racts of water.
Suddenly, the air was filled with a portentous
-roar. The rain no longer fell in sheets, but in
solid masses. The creek, black except where it
was lashed into foam, rose like a mighty river and
tore down the cation, hoarsely howling on its way.
The sides of the narrow pass seemed to melt into
dropping streams of water. The trail disappeared,
and along the foaming tide rushed wagons, horses,
oxen, men, and the floating wrecks of trains which
had been farther up the cation.
The angry flood, checked by the sharp angle of
rock around which the boys had just passed, roared
in a solid wall over that part of the trail, spread




out and curled, hissing, up to the little eminence
on which the party, with scared faces, stood as if
spell-bound. The loose cattle of the Rose drove
were in the rear. They were swept off like insects.
Then the flood, as if holding on by its claws at the
rocky angle behind, backed up and backed up,
until, with one mighty effort, it swept the wagon-
bodies off their beds, overturned the cattle in their
yokes, and then slunk off down the canon, and
slowly fell away.
Captain Rose, mounting a wrecked wagon, in
the midst of the still falling rain, looked about anx-
iously, gave a great sob, and said:
I'm a ruined man; but, thank God, we're all
here "
The angry current yet fled down the caiion,
making the trail impassable. But the worst was
over. They were all alive. Even Pete, to whom
Arty had clung in the extremity of his terror, was
safe and sound. All were drenched, and it was
only by clinging to the 'i1ii- l...-,-- .; wagons that
they had been saved from drowning. But the yoke
cattle were all here. So was poor Old Jim, and a
few of Rose's loose cattle, as well as his horse.
What was that ? asked Tom, his teeth chat-
tering with fear and cold.
"A cloud-burst," said Mont, solemnly. "And
it will be a wonderful thing if hundreds of people
in this caion are not drowned by it."
More than an hour passed before the creek had
fallen enough to permit the emigrants to pass down
the trail. But the caion was free of the flood in
an astonishingly short time. Before dark, the little
party, gathering up their wet goods and straighten-
ing out their teams, ventured down the trail.
The alders were crowded with fragments of wreck.
Wagon-covers, clothing, and bits of small house-
hold stuff, were hanging from rocks and brush.
The trail was washed out by the flood, and along it
were strewn the bodies of drowned animals. For
the most part, however, the wrecks had been swept
clean out of the cafion, and were now lying on the
sandy plain beyond.
Nobody ever knew how many lives were lost in
that memorable cloud-burst. They were many.
The boy emigrants passed out and camped on the
fast-drying plain at the mouth of the cafion, where
they found Philo Dobbs, his wife, and Nance.
They, with Messer, had laid by outside before the
storm came up, having been one day's travel ahead
of our boys.
Rose had lost sixty head of cattle, a few of those
first missing having been picked up afterward.
Where's yer yaller hoss ?" asked Hi of Barney.
The sorrel horse was gone.
Light come, light go," said Hi, sententiously.
Then he added, So much for traveling Sunday."

IT was early in September when the emigrants
reached the head-waters of the Humboldt. Here
the road led by the side of the stream, which
flowed through a narrow valley. Outside of this
valley, the country was a tumultuous mass of rocks,
mountains, and.sand. No tree nor shrub relieved
the prospect anywhere. It was an utterly desolate
and trackless desert. Close by the stream, whose
bluish white current was shaded by willows, there
was plenty of grass, and the water was at least fit
to drink. So the party journeyed on blithely, for-
getful of the dangers behind, and careless of the
privations before them.
Occasionally, the road left the river and crossed
over a rough ridge of hills, for ten or twelve miles,
and then, having made a straight line across a
curve of the stream, struck it again farther down.
But, after about two weeks of travel, with some
days of rest, orders went out to cut grass for the
long stretch of desert which was now to be traversed.
Knives of all sorts were brought out and sharpened,
and the emigrants spent one afternoon in cutting
and binding up the lush coarse grass which grew
plentifully in the meadows. Not far from this
point, the Humboldt spreads out in a boggy lake,
overgrown with reeds and bulrushes, and is lost in
the desert. About the edges of this strange swamp
the whole surface of the earth is dry and parched.
The spreading river seems discouraged by the
barren waste before it, and it sinks away in the
sands and is gone.
This everlasting sage-brush !" murmured Arty,
as the party left the verdure of the Humboldt
meadows and struck once more into the arid plain,
where the only vegetation was the yellow-brown
sage-brush or the whity-yellow grease-weed. "'This
everlasting sage-brush How sick I am of it "
"Oh, well, don't speak ill of the sage-brush,
Arty," said Mont, pleasantly. "Besides, it is called
artemisia, which is a much nicer name; and if it
was not for the artemisia, otherwise sage-brush, I
don't know what you would do for fuel."
"That's so, Mont," added Hi. "And though I
don't know much about your arty-what-d'ye-call-it,
I allow it's put here for some good end. See, that
there sage-stalk is nigh as thick as my leg, and good
fire-wood it is. Howsoever it gets to grow in this
sand gets me, I must say. Still, I shall be glad
when we are shut of it. Hit's a sure sign of desert
wherever it grows."
It was an abominable country. The face of the
earth was undulating, but gradually rising as the
trail ran westward, and was covered with loose
black, yellow, and red boulders, and split masses





of rock. The wagon-trail was almost knee-deep
with red dust, and was sprinkled with broken stones,
over which the wagons jolted dismally. Beyond,
as far as the eye could reach, and disappearing
over the swales of the surface, stretched a long,
long line of teams, over which a pillar of dust con-
irm..l. rose into the hot air. The sun poured
down its fiercest beams, and the far-off hills to the
north looked as if they were calcined in the terrible
heat, and ashes seemed to cover their glowing
After a long and weary tramp, the boys reached
Antelope Springs, a place whose name had such a
pleasant sound to them, that they had longed for it
very much. It was a bitter disappointment. Hun-
dreds of teams were already on the ground before
them, and the two feeble little springs which had
gushed out from under a ledge of rocks in this dry-
ness, were trampled and choked with mud. The
water which trickled down from these pools was
not fit to drink; even the suffering cattle would

..... ,

:----- -- -

.. .-

not touch it. After waiting several hours, and
taking up a spoonful of water at a time, the boys
secured enough to make some coffee-the first
nourishment they had had since morning; and it
was now nearly sundown.
Rabbit-hole Springs, twenty miles off, must be
reached before any water for the cattle and horses
could be found. It was a day's drive, in the best
of times. Now they must make it in one night.
The poor animals, hungry and thirsty, could
hardly drag the wagons over the rough roads; and
the boys, faint, foot-sore and sleepy, stumbled along
in the dark, ready to fall down and sleep forever in
the rocky way. As the night wore on, the air grew
cool, and they toiled up and down the steep ridges
with some sense of relief.
During the night, while sweeping down a mount-
ain side, the party suddenly blundered into the
midst of the encampment of a large company of
emigrants. These people were evidently tired out
with their march; not one was to be seen. Their

cattle were scattered about in all directions, and
all their tents were silent. Into this tranquil settle-
ment suddenly burst the train of the Roses, the
young emigrants, and several others who had
"bunched" together while crossing the desert.
In a twinkling, the loose animals rushed to the
right and left among the tents and wagons, startled
by the unexpected sight, or searching for some-
thing to eat.
The confusion was instant and dire. Men rushed
out from their tents, or from under their wagons,
half-dressed and panic-stricken. Their alarm
changed to rage when they saw the cause of the
midnight invasion; and they tried in vain to stop
the bewildered cattle, who charged on the tents,
tore down the canvas, and hungrily grabbed at
anything eatable and in reach. Old Jim snatched
a huge bundle of grass in his teeth, and bore it off
triumphantly, never heeding the stones and yells
flung after him.
Men shouted, women screamed, children bawled,
dogs barked, and cattle bellowed. The surprise
was complete, and the stampede perfect. It took
a long time to straighten out the trains, separate
the cattle, and pacify the strangers, who returned
to their dismantled tents in a very unhappy frame
of mind.
Should n't hev camped right on the trail if ye
did n't want to git.up and dust in the middle of the
night," was Bush's remark as he collected his small
equipage of cow and cart and went swinging down
into the valley, with as much self-complacency as
if he had commanded the whole train.
The night grew cooler, and when the caravan
reached the long sandy plain which now stretched
out toward Rabbit-hole Springs, Arty wrapped his
blanket about his shoulders and journeyed out into
the mysterious star-lighted waste, accompanied only
by his faithful Pete. The road was heavy with
loose sand, but not difficult to walk in, and the boy
soon passed out of all sight and hearing of the
teams behind him. He was alone in a sea of sand,
the dog keeping close behind him at his heels.
The sky, spangled with stars, bent over him, and,
far off, the dim horizon shaded away into the gloom
of the distant hills. Arthur fancied himself a lost
traveler, far from human habitation or human
trace, and he pressed on against the rising breeze
with a keen sense of the novel loneliness of his
condition. The cries of the ox-drivers and the
crush of wheels had died away in the distance, and
only when Pete, terrified at the unearthly stillness,
came up from behind, whined for a word of recog-
nition and dropped back to his place, did the lad
hear any sound that reminded him that he was in
the land of the living.
Reaching a drift of sand, where the wind had






curled up a wave in the shape of a furrow, Arty
wrapped his blanket about him and lay down and
gazed out on the lonely desert waste, with a strange
sort of fascination. Pete whimpered at this unusual
proceeding. He seemed anxious and disturbed by
the strange influence of the night; and he crept
under the boy's blanket and snuggled up close, as
if for companionship.
Presently, while Arty was dreamily looking off
into the gloom, and wondering why he was not
sleepy, the dog growled uneasily.
Oh, keep still, Pete One would suppose you
saw a ghost."
But the dog, thus reproved, was silent only for a
moment. He growled again with more positive-
ness. and Arty, straining his ear, caught no sound
coming out of the mysterious shadows.
What a fool I was to come out here alone," he
muttered. Keep still, Pete, can't you? But there
are no Indians on this desert, I'm sure; nothing
for 'em to eat. Wild animals, perhaps "
And here Pete, who could endure it no longer,
bounced out from under the blanket, where he
had been growling and grumbling to himself, and
barked loud, long, and without restraint.
The boy hushed him for a moment, when a faint
cry of Halloo Arty !" came out of the darkness.
It was Mont's voice, and Pete bounded off to meet
Gracious I how you scared me, Mont! said
Arty, as his comrade came up. What are you
ahead for ?"
"Well, you see, Hi is driving. Barney Crogan
is asleep in the wagon, and Tom is riding with
Nance's folks. So I got lonesome and came on
ahead to find you. Nice night."
"Yes, but how strange it is. See those stars.
That's Orion, you know. My mother showed me
that constellation ever so many years ago; and, do
you know, I was just thinking how queer it is that
all those stars should shine over us here, away off
in the desert, just as they used to at Sugar Grove ;
just as they used to shine in Vermont, I suppose-
but I don't remember much about that."
The young man made no answer, but sat down
by Arty's side, clasped his hands over his knees,
and looked out into the shadowy plain. The boy
was silent again, and the dog curled up and slept at
his feet. Mont thought of the stars shining over
his New England home, far away. He saw the'
gable windows of his mother's house gleaming in
the moonlight, the bronzed elms that made dark
shadows over the lanes of the suburban town where
his old home was, and the silvery river that rushed
under the bridge with wooden piers which he had
crossed so often. Around him stretched a track-
less, uninhabitable waste. It was as silent as the

tomb. Out of its depths came no sound; only the
chill night wind whispered over the sand-dunes and
among the pebbles lying in the dark hollows of this
sea of sand.
Suddenly, as he mused, out somewhere in the
vague mystery of the plain he heard the boom of
a deep-toned bell-once, twice, thrice, four times
-sounding on the air.
The bell the bell! he shouted, and-started
to his feet. Pete barked in sympathy.
Golly what bell ?" asked Arty.
The nine o'clock bell at Cambridgeport At
least, I thought I heard it just then He added:
"Good heavens! Am I mad?-or dreaming?"
Then he laughed confusedly, and said: "Well, I
must have been in a waking dream. Don't mind
it. Here comes the train."
And, as he spoke, the teams came, slowly grind-
ing their way through the darkness of the night.
The moon rose and faded away again in the
early gray of the morning before the tired emigrants
reached Rabbit-hole Springs. It was a queer place.
A dry, smooth hill, rounded and baked, bore on its
topmost curve a cluster of wells. These were dug
by emigrants, and they reached a vein of water
which kept these square holes always supplied.
Rude steps were cut in the sides of the pits, and,
cautiously creeping down them, the precious water
was dipped up plentifully. No matter how many
were filled, the supply never gave out.
Here the party drank and gave to their beasts.
Then, filling all available vessels, they went on to
the plain below, where, at four o'clock in the morn-
ing, they halted long enough to get ready a meager
breakfast. The air began to grow warm again as
the wind fell, and Arty, half-dead with fatigue and
sleeplessness, stumbled about his camp-stove in a
daze. Everybody but himself had dropped in the
dust to sleep. He was alone, although a thousand
people were camped all about on the sandy plain.
There was no fuel but dry grease-weed, and his
hands were in the dough.
"Get up and get something to burn, you Cro-
gan," he said crossly, kicking his sleeping brother's
shins as he lay under the wagon.
Yes, mother," drawled the young fellow in his
dreams; "I'm coming-coming," and he was
asleep again.
Half-crying with vexation, Arty sat down on the
wagon-tongue and shouted out, in the most general
If some of you fellows don't wake up and get
some firing, you'11 have no breakfast, so now!"
Nobody stirred, but Nance, gingerly picking her
way over the pebbly ground, barefooted and dusty,
came up and said:
I '11 help ye, Arty. Take yer hands out o' that




dough and get yer firewood, and I'll finish yer
bread. Salt? Bakin'-powder? Now git."
Nancy, you're the best girl I ever knew," said
"That's what she is," interposed Johnny, who
was now sitting up in the sand. Did you call,
Arty ? "
Lie down again and nap it while you can,"
said Arty, his anger all gone. You've a long
tramp before you to-day, my little man."
Only two hours were allowed for rest and break-
fast, and then the weary march began again. One
of Rose's men-a tall, dangling young fellow,
known in the camp as Shanghai "-threw up his
contract and determined to get out and walk."
He declared that he had been "put upon" long
enough. He had not been provided with the
cattle-whip which had been promised him. He
had been compelled to drive loose cattle in the
fearful dust of the day before, while some more
favored person was allowed to drive the steers. To
crown all, he had had but one spoonful of "dope"
at breakfast that day. This was too much. He
would go on alone.
Van Dusen, a stolid, black-bearded man, one of
Rose's teamsters, who had very profound views on
the subject of earthquakes and volcanoes, and who
never, under any circumstances, could get enough
to eat, listened to poor Shanghai's tearful com-
plaints, threw down his whip, and said:
Hang it Shanghai, I'11 go with ye!"
And these two pilgrims, packing all their worldly
effects in one small bundle;, took their way over the
arid hills toward the Golden Land.
At noon, the long caravan, passing over a suc-
cession of rocky and dusty ridges, reached the last
one, from which they gazed off into the Great
Plain. It was like a vast sea. Far to the west-
ward, a chain of sharp, needle-like peaks towered
up to the sky. Northward, a range of hills, flam-
ing in red and blue, looked as if they were masses
of hot iron. South, the undulating level melted
into the brassy sky. Across the dusty waste before
them a long line of wagons traveled, far below the
point on which the boy emigrants paused before
they began their descent.
Looking toward the red-hot hills, and over the
plain, tremulous with heated air, Arthur saw, to
his intense surprise, a crooked line of shining blue.
It glided out and in among clumps of willows, and
rippled in the sunshine. It was a creek of con-
siderable size, and, even from this distance, he could
almost hear the gurgle of the blessed water.
Water water he cried.
Everybody gazed. Even the sullen cattle sniffed
it with their noses, and poor Tige set up a discon-
solate bellow as he looked.

"Only a mirage, Arty," said Mont, with a tinge
of despondency. See it pass ?"
And, as he spoke, the trees faded away, the blue
waters sunk into the earth, and only the parched
rocks and hills remained. Then, moving down,
the illusion seemed to strike the caravans below.
The wagons grew and grew until they appeared to
be fifteen or twenty feet high. Then these spectral
figures broke in two, and on each wagon was the
shape of another, bottom up and its wheels in the
air. Then on this ghostly figure was another
wagon, its wheels resting on the wheels of that
below. This weird procession lasted a moment,
shuddered, and melted away like a dream. Only
the commonplace caravan plodded its weary way
through the powdery dust.
At sunset, after a second distressing day's drive,
the travelers reached the range of peaks which, like
an island, divided the desert into two parts. Here
was water, but so hot that an egg might have been
boiled in it. Tige, who was on the sick list, put
his black muzzle into it, and, astonished at the
phenomenon, set off on a brisk run with his tail in
the air.
Poor old chap He has not got all his wits
about him now that he is sick," said Mont, com-
Even when the water was cooled in pails, the
cattle distrusted it and hesitated to taste it. The
boys stewed their beans, baked biscuit, and made
coffee, using a portion of the scanty'stock of fuel
brought a long way for this purpose; for here not
even grease-weed, nor the tiniest blade of grass,
ever grew. The surface of the ground was utterly
A little withered grass, brought from the Hum-
boldt, remained in the wagons, and was distributed
among the cattle. Tige refused to eat it, and as
the boys sat in the door of their tent, eating their
desert fare, the docile animal came up, and, resting
his nose on Arty's shoulder, looked, winking, into
his tin plate of stewed beans.
"Have some, Tige ?" said Arty. Poor old
Tige, he's off his grub."
And the steer, cautiously sniffing at the plate,
put out his tongue, tasted with apparent satisfac-
tion, and licked up the whole.
Now, I call that extravagance !" said Tom,
ladling out another plateful of beans.
"And Icall it genewine humanity. That's what
it is, Mister Smarty," rejoined Hi. Whatever else
we have n't got, I allow we've beans enough to get
us through with."
On again at sundown went the emigrants; as if
pursued by some hidden enemy. Out into the
desert swept a great train of wagons, cattle, men,
and women-out into the desert, with the tall and




motionless peaks of purple towering above them
into the evening sky, now flushed and rosy. How
they tramped on and on, like a caravan of life, out
into an unknown world, rich and poor, young and
old, together Leaving behind them their homes,
and leaving by the way their dead, they swept past
the islanded mountains, and so pressed on to the
When the night came on, and the yellow moon
flooded the vast level plain with liquid light, the
sight was very strange. The air was cool, the
ground white with a firm sand which scarcely
yielded to the easily running wheels. In the weird

of mountains. Without waiting to examine the
ground, which was a rough plain bordering on a
creek, the boys put up their tent, unyoked the
cattle, who were too tired to stray, dropped into
their blankets, and slept until long after the next
day's sunrise.
Many of the cattle brought here, after the drive
across the Great Plains, were left to die. The boys
rested one day, and, when another night came
on, they yoked their unwilling oxen, and were off
again. It was sunset when they passed southward
around the spur of mountains which lay across
their path. And it was four o'clock on the follow-

. j.- i : _

luster that covered the plain, a lame steer, turned
out to die, and standing away off from the trail,
loomed up like a giraffe. To the startled lads, it
seemed at first a balloon; then a phantom cow.
Looking back, the long train seemed to rise up
and melt away into the air; and forward, the blue-
black mountains that bounded the plain were
flecked with silver where the moonlight fell on
quartz ledges and patches of belated snow.
Occasionally, a cry from the rear told that an-
other "critter" had fallen, and some one must be
detailed to bring it along, if possible. But the
train rolled on until the camp-fires of Granite Creek
shone on the desert. At two o'clock in the morn-
ing, inexpressibly weary, the emigrants reached a
slightly raised bench at the foot of another range

ing morning when they paused and built another
camp-fire in the midst of the last stretch of desert,
on the western side of the range. Here was a level,
floor-like plain, and the tents pitched with the flaps
rolled up gave the scene an Oriental air. No
Arabian coffee in the desert was ever more de-
licious than that which our weary young pilgrims
drank. And no delicacies of a luxurious city could
have been more welcome to these wandering sons
than the well-browned biscuits which Arty's deft
hands drew from their camp-oven.
The last day's travel was the hardest of all. Cat-
tle dropped by the wayside. Strong men fainted
with fatigue, or grew delirious with sleeplessness.
In some of the trains there was real want, arid
strange rumors of a plot to rob the better-provided





ones floated back and forth among the trains, now
moving once more in single file over the bleak and
-barren hills. No vegetation met the eye, no insect
nor bird cried in the joyless air; a fierce sun poured
down its rays upon the struggling line. Here and
there, a grave, newly made and rudely marked,
showed where some poor soul had fallen by the
way. The very sky seemed to add to the utter
desolation of the land.
But, at sunset, the young emigrants, after ford-
ing a salt creek, climbed the rocky ridge which
separated the desert from the fertile region known
as the Smoke Creek country. The train toiled on
and passed over the divide. Arthur and Mont
paused and looked back. The setting sun bathed
the plain below in golden radiance. A flood of
yellow sunshine poured over the arid waste, and
broke in masses among the violet shadows of the
mountain range beyond. Eastward, the rocky pin-
nacles, glorified with purple, gold, and crimson,
pierced a sky rosy and flecked with yellow. It was
like a glimpse of fairy-land.
Arty held his breath as he gazed and for a mo-
ment forgot his fatigue.
It is as beautiful as a dream," said the boy.
"And as cruel as death," added Mont.
I shall never forget it, Mont."
Nor I."

"POOR old Tige We may as well take him
out of the yoke."
The plucky little ox would have dragged on with
his mate Molly until he dropped. But he was too
sick to travel. The boys were now near Honey
Lake Valley, where feed was good and water plenty.
They had crossed the last considerable ridge, or
divide, before reaching the Sierra ; a few days more
would bring them to their journey's end.
The faithful beast had pulled steadily through
the awful desert and over the volcanic region which
lay between that region and the Honey Lake coun-
try. As Johnny and Arthur unfastened the yoke
to let the invalid Tige go free, the creature looked
around in wonder, as if to ask the reason of this
unwonted proceeding.
Tige, my boy," said Arthur, I am afraid you
wont wear the yoke again."
"Is he so bad as that, Arty? asked Johnny,
sympathetically, and almost with tears.
"Well, you see, Johnny," interposed Barnard,
"there is very little chance for a critter that's
alkalied ever to get well. That dose of melted fat
we gave him yesterday did n't do him a bit of
good. Hi says that he allows that his milt is all

eaten away by alkali. Whatever the milt may be,
I don't know; do you, Mont ?"
"Diaphragm, I guess," said Mont.
Dyer what ?" asked Tom. Dyer-well, that's
a good one. I tell you it's the milt. Don't you
know what the milt is ? "
Give it up," said Barney, shortly. Hurrah !
there's the Sierra "
And, as he spoke, their team, drawn now by one
yoke, rounded the ragged summit of the ridge,
and they beheld the Sierra Nevada.
Below was a winding valley, dotted with isolated
lofty pines, and bright with green grass. A blue
stream rambled about the vale and emptied into a
muddy-looking lake at the south. This was Honey
Lake, and the stream was Susan's River. Beyond,
westward, was a vast wall, bristling with trees and
crowned with white peaks. It was the Snowy
Range of Mountains. Beyond was the promised
The boys gazed with delight on the- emerald
valley and the sparkling river; but chiefly were
they fascinated by the majestic mountains beyond
these. They were not near enough to see the
smaller features of the range. But their eyes at
last beheld the boundary that shut them out of the
Land of Gold. The pale green of the lower hills
faded into a purple-blue, which marked where the
heavy growth of pines began. Above this, and
broken with many a densely shadowed gulch and
ravine, rose the higher Sierra, bald and rocky in
places, and shading off into a tender blue where
the tallest peaks, laced with snow, were sharply cut
against the sky.
Before the young emigrants were water, rest,
and pasturage. Beyond were the mysterious fast-
nesses in which men, while they gazed, were un-
locking the golden secrets of the earth. Up there,
in those vague blue shadows, where the mountain
torrents have their birth, miners were rending the
soil, breaking the rocks, and searching for hidden
treasure. The boys pressed on.
But days passed before the emigrants, with their
single yoke of cattle, and often delayed by swamps,
and by getting on false trails, reached the base of
the Sierra. It was now late in September, and the
nights were cool. While on the high ridges west
of the Great Desert, they had had a touch of cold
weather. Ice had formed outside of the tent on
more than one night; and, inside, the boys had
shivered under their blankets and buffalo skins,
though the days were hot. But here was fuel.
Here, too, at the foot of the mountains, they
found a ranch, or farm, the tiller of which had
steadily refused to be charmed away by tales of
gold discoveries on the other side of the wall of




He leaned on his rail fence and eyed the vast
procession of emigrants with a cynical air. The
boys almost envied him the possession of such a
trim little farm; for, though it was rude and
straggling, it looked like a home, a haven of rest,
after their long march in the desert and wilderness.
They felt, for the first time, that they were ragged,
uncouth, toil-stained, and vagabondish in appear-
ance. Here was a man wearing a white shirt, or
one that had once been white; and a woman stood
in the door-way, with knitting-wvork in her hands.
It was a domestic picture, and in sharp contrast to
emigrant life on the plains.
"Oh, you're bound to the gold-diggin's, you
be?" he said, with an unpleasant leer. Wal,
now, I've heerd that men were making' wages over
there-day wages jest-and flour at twenty dollars
a hundred. But boys-wal, now, this gets me!
Boys? No wages yonder fur boys, you jest bet
yer life! "
Don't you worry yourself, old man," retorted
Hi, who always.did the rude joking of the party.
"We'll come back next week and buy out your
shebang, boys or no boys, wages or no wages."
"Got any vegetables to sell?" asked Barney,
"Vegetables Stranger, look a-there !" said
the ranchero, pointing to a patch of ground well
dug over. "D'ye see that there patch? Wal, that
there patch was full of corn and taters. Corn don't
do well here; too cold and short seasons. But
this year them crazy critters that hev been pilin'
over the mountains hev carried off every stalk and
blade and ear. What they did n't beg, they stole;
and what was n't growed, was carried off half-
Stole your crop ?"
That's about the size of it. I 'm from Michi-
gan, I am, and was brought up regular; but I jest
laid out in that corn-field, nights, with a double-
barrel shot-gun, untel there wa' n't no corn for me
to hide in. Stole ? Why, them pesky gold-hunters
would hev carried the ground away from under
my feet, if they'd a-wanted it. Smart fellers, they
be "
Why don't you go on and try your luck in the
mines ?" asked Barnard, who, with Mont and Arty,
had lingered behind, hoping that they might buy
a few fresh vegetables.
So far as I've heerd tell, there's no luck there.
Here and there a chunk, but nothing' stiddy. The
mines hev gi'n out; they've been givin' out ever
since they was struck, and now they've gi'n out
And are you going to stay here and farm it ? "
asked Barney.
"Young feller,"-and here the rough-faced

ranchero put on a most sagacious air,-" ranchin'
here is better than gold-diggin' over yender. Here
I stay. That there's my wife, Susan; that's
Susan's River yender, and this here's Susanville,
now hear me."
And you find farming profitable, although the
emigrants steal your crop ?"
"Wal, young feller," he said to Mont, "you're
a sort of civil-spoken chap; seeing' it's you, I'll'sell
you a few taters for a dollar a pound."
The boys bought two pounds of potatoes and
went on, alarmed at their first great extravagance.
Never mind," said Rose, when they told him
of their purchase. You'll have no more chance
to buy potatoes after this. Reckon you might as
well get yer fust and last taste of 'em now."

--- -

Camping at night in the forests of the Sierra was
like being in paradise. No more sand, no more
sage-brush, no more brackish or hot water in the
rivulets. Gigantic pines stretched far up into
the star-lit sky. Ice-cold streams fell over the
mountain-side. The cattle lay down to rest in
nooks carpeted with rich grass. The boys built a
tremendous fire in the midst of their camp, piling
on the abundant fuel in very wantonness, as they
remembered how lately they had been obliged to
economize handfuls of dry grass and weeds in their
little camp-stove.
This was luxury and comfort unspeakable; and
as they basked in the cheerful light and heat, Hi
said: I allow I'd just as soon stay here forever.
The gold-mines are a fool to this place."
Barney poked the glowing fire, which was kin-
dled against a mighty half-dead pine, and said:
Who votes this is a good place to stay in ? "




There was a chorus of laughing I's about the "Well, we've got our baked potatoes, anyhow,"
fire, as the boys lounged in every comfortable atti- grumbled Barney, as he raked two dollars' worth
tude possible. At that, there was a horrible roar of that useful vegetable out of the ashes.
from the pine-tree by the fire, and from the midst Later, while they were debating as to what they
of the curling flames suddenly appeared a huge might demand of Bill Bunce, when they should see
creature, which bounded through the blaze, scat- him again, the comrade of that mysterious person
tered the brands in all directions, broke up the appeared by the camp-fire with a huge bear-steak.
circle of loungers, who fled in all directions, knocked With Mr. Bunce's compliments," he said, with
over little Johnny, and disappeared down the side a grin. It was your bear, like, as it mought be;
of the mountain, with a savage growl. came outen your back-log," and the stranger dis-
The boys stared at each other in blank amaze- appeared.
ment, and with some terror. Cheeky," said Barney.
An elephant Now, a b'ar-steak is not to be sneezed at.
"A tiger !" We'll have a jaw with that Bunce feller to-mor-
"A catamount row," said Hi, surveying the welcome fresh meat
"A grizzly bear !" with great gratification.
It was a bear I felt his fur as he scrabbled But, next day, when the boys awoke at sunrise,
over me said Johnny, with a scared face and his and surveyed the neighboring camping-grounds,
teeth chattering, no -trace of Bill Bunce's party was to be found.
Just then, there was a shot down the mountain They had lit out" early in the dawning, a good-
in the direction in which the monster had gone natured emigrant informed them.
crashing through the underbrush. Then another, On the second day after this adventure, the party
and another shot sounded. Everybody ran. They reached a narrow ridge, the summit of the gap in
came up with two or three men from a neighboring the Sierra over which they were passing. They
camp, running in the same direction. Reaching a had toiled up a steep incline, winding among rocks
little hollow in the wood, they found two emigrants and forests. Here was a descent too steep for any
examining a confused dark heap on the ground. team to be driven down. Yet the road pitched
What is it ?" cried the new-comers, over this tremendous incline, dnd they saw the
"A b'ar," said one of the men, taking out his tracks of wagons that had just gone on ahead.
knife and making ready to skin the animal. "See here," said Mont, who had been spying
" Heerd him crashin' through the brush and let about. Here are marks on the trees, as if ropes
him have it." had been slipped around them. They have let the
"A grizzly ? asked Tom. wagons down this inclined plane by ropes."
No, a cinnamon, I allow," said the other man, But where are the ropes for us ? And how do
striking a light for his pipe, before he began to they get the cattle down? Slide 'em ?" asked
help his comrade. Barney.
Johnny, who had not quite recovered from his I don't know where our ropes are to be got,"
fright, looked at the bronzed face of the emigrant, replied Morse. But you can see the tracks of the
illuminated as it was for a moment by the flaming cattle in the underbrush. They have been driven
match, and exclaimed: down that way."
Bill Bunce It was a dilemma. They could hardly urge the
Hello my little kid," said the fellow, uncon- cattle up the steep slope on the eastern side. There
cernedly. Whar've yer bin this long back?" was not room enough for two teams to stand on
Johnny was too much astonished to reply, and top, and westward the ridge dropped away sharply,
Mont,. with some severity of manner, said: like the smooth roof of a house, for several hundred
This is the boy you abandoned on the Missis- feet.
sippi River, is it not, Bunce?" "Oh, here comes the Knight of the Rueful
Well now, stranger, I allow you are too many Countenance! said Mont. "He has a coil of
for me. My understanding' was that he throwed off rope." And the sad-faced Messer came urging his
on me. Say, pard," he continued, addressing his cattle up the hill. The situation was explained to
mate, "just yank him over on his back. There him.
now, this skin's wuth savin'. He's fat, he is; Yes, I allow I've heerd tell of this yere place,"
must weigh nigh onto three hundred." he said, and powerful bad sleddin' hit is. Now,
The boys went back to their camp-fire very dis- how d' yer allow to get down ? "
contentedly. After all, there was nothing to be Barnard explained to him how other people. must
done. They might have accused him of attempt- have gone down. The rope was produced from
ing to steal Old Jim. Messer's wagon, one end made fast to the hinder




axle of a wagon. Then a turn was taken about
a tree, and some of the party carefully steadied
the vehicle down the hill, while the others held the
rope taut, and let it slip around the tree-trunk,
as the wagon slid slowly down. The oxen and
loose cattle were driven over by a roundabout way
through the brush. Poor old Tige at once lay
down on reaching the valley below, and Arthur
almost wept as the sick creature staggered to his
feet and struggled on after the train, when they
had crossed the divide and yoked up on the western
side of the range.
Passing through "Devil's Corral," a curious,
huge bowl of rocks, set up like a gigantic wall
about a grassy hollow, the party camped on the
margin of a magnificent meadow. Here was a flat
valley, filled with springs and rank with grass and
herbage. A pure stream circled about its edge,
and, like a wall, a tall growth of pines and firs
shut it in all about. The forest which sloped
down this enchanted spot was aromatic with gums
and balsams, and multitudes of strange birds filled
the air.
In this lavish plenty, the boys camped for two
days, in order that the tired cattle might be rested.
It seemed as if this abundant grass and sparkling
water would restore Tige's health, if anything could.
Arty carefully tended the poor beast. But he was
filled with- forebodings, and, rising early in the
morning after their first night in the valley, went
out to look after his favorite. Johnny was up
before him, and came toward Arty, dashing some-
thing from his eyes with his brown fist.
Well?" said Arthur, with a little quiver in his
He 's all swelled up," sobbed the boy.
Arthur ran down into the meadow. The little
black,steer was lying cold and stiff. Tige's journey
was done.
There was lamentation in the camp, and the
sad-faced Missourian, who had camped with Capt.
Rose and the boys, said, with the deepest melan-
choly :
Such luck! Wish I had n't a-come "
From this point, many emigrants dropped out
to the north and south, and some pressed'on to the

westward, striking for the rich mines said to exist
on the edge of the Sacramento Valley.
The news was good. More than that, it was
intoxicating. Men raced about as if they had a
fever in their bones. The wildest stories of gold-
finds floated among the camps, faces grew sharp
with anxiety and covetousness, and mysterious
murmurs of robberies and darker crimes began to
fill the air. The boys were on the edge of the
gold diggings. The wildness and lawlessness came
up from the whirl beneath like faint echoes into
these peaceful old forest solitudes.
On the last day of September, the boy emigrants
mounted Chapparal Hill. Mont, Arty, and Bar-
nard, climbing a peak near by, looked off on a
golden valley, rolling far to the west, sparkling
with streams and checkered with patches of tim-
ber. Westward, a misty mountain wall of blue
melted into the pale sky. Nearer, a range of
purple peaks rose, like a floating island in the
midst of a yellow sea. This was the valley of the
Sacramento, with the Coast Range in the distance
and the Sutter Buttes in the midst. Beyond all,
but unseen,-rolled the Pacific.
The wagons crept over Chapparal Hill and'halted
by a group of canvas and log houses. Some un-
couth-looking men were loitering about the camp.
Beyond, by a creek, others were shoveling soil
into a long wooden trough, in which water was
running. Others were wading, waist deep, in the
There was an odor of fried bacon in the air, and
the sinking sun shone red over the camp-fires,
where the men were cooking their supper.
How's the diggings ? asked Capt. Rose of a
tall fellow, who was lying at full length on the
ground, and teasing a captive magpie.
Slim," was the reply.
"Well, I reckon we '11 stop here for the present.
Claims all taken up ?"
Thr 's room enough; and the miner laughed
as he went on playing with the bird.
The boys, somewhat dejected, drove down by
"the branch," unyoked their cattle, and set up
their tent.
This was the Golden Land.

(To be continued.)






* 94



TWICE one are two:
Prairie roses, blushing through
My window-all aglow with dew.
Twice one are two.

Twice two are four:
Bees a-humming round the door-
Calling others by the score.
Twice two are four.

Twice three are six:
Pansy-beds their colors mix;
See the mother-hen and chicks.
Twice three are six.

Twice four are eight:
Gorgeous butterflies, elate,
Dancing, poising, delicate.
Twice four are eight.

Twice five are ten:
Sweetest strains from yonder glen,
Echoed o'er and o'er again.
Twice five are ten.

Twice six are twelve:
Merry maidens of the year-
Some in snowy gowns appear,
Some in gold and silver sheen;
Yet the fairest is, I ween,
Dainty June, in pink and green.

r .- .II~It4,I._P


VOL. III.-35.

15k I

6/7 t r-ca




"~~.r i
P :~v

Y" \




(A True Incident.)


SOUT thirteen years ago
-'- there lived in Jamaica
Plain, near Boston,
._. two little girls who
S each had a canary-
s- bird. The grandfather
Sof these children lived
Sin Fayal, and had sent
from that distant island
her bird to the eldest
girl a short time be-
fore my story begins.
May, for that was her
:, ii... ,-I i stened him W illie.
i .1 a green and yellow bird,
l, ihl .e -culiarly marked, very
p' r. I-t .. .i he sang sweetly, and
SthI. i.- irl was very fond of the
ru,. .: .: i ..: ii i grandfather had sent so

S n ,-,.rii-: rn..: rtain sea to find a home
S..ith ld,. .I.- was kind and good to
himl, ii .::-.:. 'I he should lack nothing
I !.:; hi .-h I.rd might wish; so I do
..'. n.:.r .1. l., ,: rew very fond of her,
and was as happy as he could be. But
into that pleasant home the war of the Rebellion
brought its inevitable sorrow, and May's father
joining the army, the household was broken up,
and the family went to New York for the winter.
Before going, May wrote to me asking if I would
keep Willie for her till the spring, when they hoped
to return. Of course I was glad to do so, and
Willie was brought from Jamaica Plain to Newton
one day in late autumn. His cage was covered with
brown paper, so that he might not be alarmed at
all the unaccustomed confusion about him ; he was
taken in the cars to Boston, and from Boston brought
out to Newton in another train of cars, and at last
deposited safely in my hands. I took the paper off
the cage and hung it up at one of the four windows
of my sunny parlor, already cheerful with birds and
flowers, and Willie looked about him with bright
black eyes surveying his new surroundings. It was
a pleasant place, where the sun shone all day. He
saw a robin and a song-sparrow at one window, a
yellow canary at another, and still another bird,
with dusky plumage like his own, stood in the mid-
dle of the flower-stand in a bower of green. All
about the windows ivies and smilax were climbing,
nasturtiums and geraniums blossomed brightly, and

every plant bloomed and spread gay leaves of fresh-
est green to make a summer in the place when win-
ter should storm without. I think he missed his
dear little May at first, but he soon grew accustomed
to the change and seemed quite content. A cherry-
tree stood close to the window inside which his cage
was hung, and to the boughs of this tree I was in
the habit of tying mutton and beef bones to feed
the wild birds when the snow was on the ground.
How he used to watch them when they came !
Sometimes the tree seemed alive with pretty wood-
peckers, chickadees, and Canada sparrows with red
brown caps, and handsome, screaming jays, resplen-
dent in brilliant blue. I wondered what he thought
about them, but apparently he was not troubled
with many thoughts. He ate, and drank, and sang
his prettiest for me, till at last, the winter ended, the
final snow-storm flung us a bitter good-bye; the
strong sun unlocked the frozen earth, the grass
crept out, and the world grew glad and glorious
again. The outside windows were taken off, and
all day long, when the sun shone, the inner ones
stood wide open with the cages close together on
the sills, shaded now by vines which grew outside,
and touched by long sprays of pink flowering-
almond that waved in the warm wind. Every night
before sunset I took the birds in and hung them up
in their places. One afternoon I went as usual to
take care of my pets. What was my distress to
find Willie's cage missing Half afraid lest I should
see some prowling cat in the act of devouring him,
I looked out of the window. There on the ground
lay the empty cage, with the door open. How my
heart sank at the sight May's little bird, which
she had intrusted to my care, was gone. Though
we did not own a cat, our neighbors did, and how
could I be sure that one of the stealthy creatures
had not found its way to the birds and selected my
dear guest to destroy I I was in despair; fond as I
was of my pets, I would gladly have sacrificed all
the rest could I have brought back that one which
had been intrusted to me. I knew the family had
returned to Jamaica Plain, and only the day before
I had said to myself that I was glad Willie was in
such good condition to return to May. And there
lay the open cage and he was gone Very sad and
sorry, I sat down to write to the little girl that she
would never see her dear bird again.
Now happened a wonderful thing.
I sent my letter, but before it reached its desti-




nation that little bird had arrived in its old home,
and was safe in May's possession again He flew
straight from Newton to Jamaica Plain, a distance
of ten miles as the crow flies, and entered at the
nursery window where of old his cage had hung. It
was Willie himself, there was no mistaking the bird.
Now, was it not amazing that he should find his
way with such unerring certainty across the wide
and varying country, to that town, to that house,
to that window ? When his cage fell off my win-
dow ledge to the ground, and the door sprang
open with the shock and set him free, how did he
instantly know which way to fly to reach his former
home ? What told him to select a course due
south-east instead of any other point of the com-
pass? For the world was all before him, where to
choose. Evidently he lost no time, for he arrived
at his destination toward nightfall the next day.
The children heard him fluttering at the window
that night, but, supposing it some wild bird, took
no notice of him. So he lingered without, and
when in the morning the window was thrown open,
swiftly the little wanderer flew in and perched on
the cage of the other canary, which hung where he
used to see it before he was carried to Newton.

Now, how did that little bird find out the way
over woods and fields, and hills and dales, and
many a town and group of houses? How could he
be so wise as to select Jamaica Plain from all the
places he must have passed over? Though he had
lived there he had never really seen it, you know,
and he was brought to Newton by the way of Bos-
ton, with his cage covered close with brown paper.
Then, among all the houses, how did he find the
house where little May lived? What led him
straight to that nursery window ? Of whom could
he have inquired the way ? To think that this tiny
tuft of feathers should carry a spark of intelligence
so divine, so far beyond the power of man's subtlest
thought Through the trackless air he found his
way without hesitation or difficulty; his frail and
delicate wings bore him safely across all those weary
miles, and he entered contentedly the cage prepared
for him, and dwelt there peacefully the rest of his
little life.
Well may we look with wonder on everything
that exists on this wonderful earth, and that a
canary-bird can, in one sense, be so much wiser
than the wisest man that ever lived, is not the least
astonishing thing among many marvels.

_ .. -. _.e Z_ _-J-- --
----" r .__ -_-" --.---- : __ .-. _



"0 FAIRY GOD-MA! I do want"-
Said Mabel to her own dear Aunt-
I want a little Maid,
To wash and dress me, with me play,
And mend my clothes, and-but you'll say
That's lazy, I 'm afraid.

"But see this button's off again;
And on my hand there is a stain-
It is not dirt, I'm sure.

Oh dear! there is so much to do:
Dear Fairy God-Ma cannot you
A little Maid procure ?"

"One's not enough for all you want,.
My Mabel! said the Fairy Aunt:
"At least some eight or ten
Your needs require. Well, well, we'll see.
Be a good girl and trust to me,
And you shall have them, then.




"Say, Mabel! ten smart little elves
Like those in the books upon your shelves-
I think I know a few-
To brush your hair, to wash your hands,
And do what now poor Aunt demands
So many times of you."

"How nice !" said Mabel. "Will they stay?
You're sure they will not run away?
Will they be always good?"
Said Aunt: "They'll stay, and every hour
They'll grow more clever, have more power
To do the things you would.


"That is, dear, if you use them well:
Else you may break the fairy spell.
Now look! we have not far
To go for them. At my first call
The little Maids come, one and all."
Why, these my fingers are "

"Well, Mabel! are not they enough
For your small doings, smooth or rough,
These cunning little elves ?
I guess they'll help. And, my own Mabel!
Once set to work, you '11 find them able
To do it all themselves."


AT last ST. NICHOLAS can answer, and answer
truly, the often -asked question, How does Mr.
Brooks look?-for on the next page is his picture,
taken from the life.
"Tell us all about him, dear ST. NICHOLAS,"
write the girls. Where does he live ? ask the
boys. Did he really go to California by the
overland route, years ago ? Is he Arthur? Is he
Mont? Who is he?"
Noah Brooks was born in the quaint old-fash-
ioned town of Castine, Maine, in 1830. His father
was of a well-known Massachusetts family, a ship-
builder by trade, in the palmy days when the sea-
port towns of Maine were enlivened by the sound
of the ax and mallet. It is quite likely that this
Brooks lad, loitering about his father's ship-yard,
and on the wharves, beaches, and rocky ledges of
Castine, absorbed some of the romance of the sea
and shore which since have appeared in his writ-
ings. He was left an orphan at the age of eight
years, and was kept at the homestead by his elder
sisters. Leaving school when eighteen years old,
he went to Boston, where he studied drawing and.
painting; but, as this did not quite suit him, he,
after awhile, drifted into new work, as a newspa-
per correspondent and writer.
In 1854, Mr. Brooks, then twenty-four years old,
went to Illinois, where he engaged in business, but
very soon, with an intimate friend and compan-
ion, he struck out for the Far West. The two
young fellows took up a claim in the extreme west-
ern part of the then Territory of Kansas, but
beyond hunting buffalo and winged game, nothing
seems to have come of their visionary scheme of
making their fortune as "settlers." The Kansas

experiment having failed, the two friends moved
on toward California. After returning to Illinois
for an outfit, they started from Council Bluffs,
Iowa, on the overland emigrant route. There
were many changes in the original party, but five
finally began the trip. Of these, one true, faithful
friend of young Brooks did not survive to reach
California. His tragical death by drowning in the
river Platte, near Fort Laramie, was a painful dis-
aster to the little company. Otherwise the journey
went prosperously on, and the young emigrants
seemed to have had a good time.
The story of "The Boy Emigrants" is under-
stood to be a faithful relation of life on the Plains
and in the California gold mines. Many of the
adventures of the young travelers, as told in this
realistic tale, actually happened to Mr. Brooks's
party, or under their own eyes, and from the note-
books of the author have been drawn the mate-
rials for the story, as well as for some of its illus-
trations; and almost all of the characters intro-
duced are real people who crossed the Plains with
the young emigrants.
Arriving in California, Mr. Brooks and his com-
panions, as was the free-and-easy custom in those
days, engaged in any pursuit which appeared most
in demand. Mr. Brooks very soon returned to
newspaper work, and in partnership with B. P.
Avery, whose recent death in Pekin, where he was
United States Minister, may be known to some of
our readers, he established a daily newspaper, Tle
Afipeal. This was at Marysville, originally the
"Nye's Ranch" of "The Boy Emigrants." In
1862, just after the sudden death of his wife and
an infant child (for he had been married in 1856),



Mr. Brooks sold out his newspaper interest, and
accepted the position of Washington correspondent
of the Sacramento Union, an influential California
His letters during the war, signed "Castine,"
gained for him a wide and very favorable reputa-
tion in California and the adjoining States and
Territories. It is pleasant to see now that some
of the California newspapers, noticing "The Boy
Emigrants in ST. NICHOLAS, refer to the author
as the Castine of those old days.
In Washington, Mr. Brooks renewed a former
acquaintance with President Lincoln, who offered

had been writing for the magazines. He was one of
the little band of writers whose pens were engaged
in the early numbers of the Overland .I.' .-.:.i. a
magazine edited by Bret Harte. Mr. Brooks sup-
plied stories, sketches, book reviews, and other
work demanded by the lively young magazine,
meantime superintending the publication of a
semi-monthly newspaper for young folks.
In 1871, Mr. Brooks left California and came to
New York, where he became one of the editors of
the New York Tribune. Two years ago, he trans-
ferred his services to the Times, in which journal
he is now engaged as an editorial writer. Since


him the appointment of Private Secretary, when
the gentleman then filling that office was about to
go abroad as Consul at Paris. This offer was
accepted, but, before the change could be made,
the good President was assassinated.
Immediately after this, Mr. Brooks returned to
California, having been commissioned Naval Officer
of the port of San Francisco. He occupied this
office about a year and a half, when he was re-
moved during the political excitement which Presi-
dent Johnson's administration created. Mr. Brooks
returned to his newspaper work with great zest, and
until 1871 was the managing editor of a San Fran-
cisco paper, the Alta'California. All this while he

Mr. Brooks has been in New York, he has fre-
quently contributed to the pages of Scribner's
JMonthly, some of its most powerful stories being
from his pen; and the young folks who read ST.
NICHOLAS have known him almost ever since
they have known the magazine. Sometimes in ST.
NICHOLAS Mr. Brooks hides away under a nom de
blume, but the boys soon find him out, for they
know his touches. "The Boy Emigrants" has
gained him hosts of young friends and admirers,
both here and on the other side of the ocean;
and, as already intimated, this brief sketch is a
response to many letters the burden of which is,-
" Please tell us about Noah Brooks."




JACK-1 N -T -i E l U LI' T.

JUST after the middle of June, one hundred and
one years ago, a battle was fought in New Eng-
land; and on the same day of the month, fifty
years afterward, a great American orator stood on
the old battle-ground and told its story. The
reason I mention these facts is that, on the 17th ot
June, the Deacon has promised to read that very
oration to the boys of the red school-house. Should
you like to read it on the same day, my patriotic
youngsters? Then look for the "Address of Daniel
Webster, delivered at Bunker Hill on the seven-
teenth of June, 1825."
i '-

I CANNOT tell you how many girls and boys
have tried Professor Gobba's experiment, of which I
toldyou inFebruary ST. NICHOLAS. Dozens and
dozens have astonished themselves and their friends
with their success, and I dare say the flowers have
been more astonished still. One little chap turned
a pink primrose green and a white carnation yel-
low. The latest experimenter, a little Southern girl,
writes: "I tried the aqua ammonia, dear Jack,
and it turned a blue hyacinth into a green one,
and a pink one into a yellow one, and a piece of
white spirJa into lemon-color. I tried a bunch of
wild violets, and they became green; some of the
flowers of the Jadas-tree or red-bud became a pale
sea-green. We have a great many flowers in bloom
now,-such as violets, red-bud, yellow jasmine,
sassafras, and wild plums.

THEREa'S a certain curious member of the plant
family, very common in Jamaica, I'm informed,
called the life plant, or leaf of life, because it is
almost impossible to kill the leaves. You may cut
one off, and hang it up by a thread, where any
one off, and hang it up by a thread, where any

ordinary leaf would be discouraged, and dry up.
It will send out long, white, thread-like roots, and
set about growing new leaves. You may cut off
half a leaf, and throw it into a tight box, where it
can get neither light nor moisture (necessaries of
life to other plants); the spirited little leaf puts out
its delicate roots all the same. Even pressed, and
packed away in a botanist's herbarium,-the very
dryest and dullest place.you ever did see,-it will
keep up its work, throw out roots and new leaves,
and actually grow out of its covers! I'm told
that botanists who want to dry this pertinacious
vegetable are obliged to kill it with a hot iron or
with boiling water.

I THOUGHT, at first, Deacon Green was lecturing
the young fellows; but no, he was reading, and
reading with a certain look upon his face,-half
stern, half sorrowful,-that showed very plainly
how much in earnest he was. He told the boys
that the writer's name was John Ruskin. Some
other deacon, I suppose.
This is what he read, word for word:
In general I have no patience with people who talk about the
.- -... of youth" indulgently; I would infinitely rather hear
*. r~..... l- -:j .,ld age, and the indulgence due to that. When a man
has done his work, and nothing can in any way be materially altered
in his fate, let him forget his toil, and jest with his fate, if he will; but
what excuse can you find for willfulness of thought at the very time
when every crisis of future fortune hangs on your decisions? A youth
thoughtless when all the happiness of his home forever depends on
the chances or the passions of an hour! A youth thoughtless! when
the career of all his days depends on the opportunity of a moment!
A youth thoughtless! when his every act is a foundation-stone of
future conduct, and every imagination a fountain of life or death t! Be
thoughtless in any after years, rather than now; though, indeed, there
is only one place where a man may be nobly thoughtless-his death-
bed. Nothing should ever be left to be done there.

CHILDREN, and grown people, in Africa think it
quite a dreadful thing to eat an egg, and some of
them would rather be severely punished than to
drink cow's milk, yet one and all are very fond of
a cake made of ants !
These ants, I believe, are called Ter, ter- It's
very strange, now, that I cannot remember that
word; it's ter-something, though, and may be
some of you may be able to find it out.

Too much success is sometimes as bad as defeat.
"How's that, Mr. Jack," do you say? Well,
I'll tell you a true story, and then you shall think
the matter over and find your own answer:
Last spring a colony of crow blackbirds occupied
the evergreen trees in a neighboring yard. Among
the earliest of our spring arrivals, their noisy chat-
tering usually mingles with the song of the robin,
and the mellow music of the blue-bird, and .they
begin to prepare for housekeeping, while both robin
and blue bird are shivering with the cold. Even
before the winter's snow had gone from the north
side of the fences, they had been busily carrying
straw, sticks and string to the trees. May-day
came, finding the ground white and frozen; but




the sun was riding too high for such weather to
last, and my black chatterers were soon hard at
work again measuring and weighing their treasures,
with that busy strut which makes the crow black-
bird a character in his way. Watching them, I
saw one seize a long rag, the tail of a last year's
kite, perhaps, and take the usual step or two before
flying. The rag was stretched to its full length,
and one end was frozen into the dirt. The bird
pulled lightly at first, then gave harder jerks, and,
finally, began pulling with all his might, bracing
himself backward like a boy tugging at some high,
tightly set weed. At last the end of the rag loos-
ened, and, as it suddenly yielded, the bird dropped
squarely on its back, kicking in fine style. He
arose ashamed or astonished at the mishap, and
flew away leaving the rag behind.
Is n't it sometimes true, then, that too much suc-
cess is as bad as defeat ?

HAVE you a school-book there under your arm,
my boy? Well, there's a tradition in my family
that little folks used to learn their letters from a
horn-book. A curious-looking thing it was, too,
I've heard. A frame something like that of a
small slate, with a handle on one end, and where
the slate should be, a piece of paper, with letters
and figures on it, all nicely covered up from med-
dlesome little fingers, with a sheet of very thin
horn,-so thin that the letters showed through.
No pictures,-no nice little stories like "The Cat
can Run," or those in your old primer; no gayly
colored big letters with "A was an Archer," to
tempt the very babies to learn. Nothing but the
alphabet, and figures. Sometimes they contained
a verse of a pretty hymn, or perhaps a copy of the
Lord's Prayer, but this was not very common.
Yet the youngsters in those times did learn to read,
I've heard; and they went through some pretty
hard books, too.
[The Little Schoolma'am sends a picture of a
horn-book of the time of Queen Elizabeth, and if
the editors will kindly copy it I shall be much
SPEAKING of old times-curious letter sheets the
ancient Romans used to have! It was n't paper
at all, I 'm told, but a pair of ivory leaves, held
together with hinges, like the slates some of you
school-boys carry. The inside was thinly coated
with wax, and the letter was written with some
sharp implement. One could write a letter on the
wax, tie it up, seal it, and send it to a friend.
When it was read, the writing could be rubbed out
with a knife, or any smooth, flat thing, and then
it was ready to use again. I fancy people did n't
write many letters in those days.

Santa Cruz, California.
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: Happening to-day to take up ST.
NICHOLAS of last November, I read aloud "How certain Wood-
peckers Pack their Trunks," and we all thought Jennie Lanner, of
Nordhoff, Cal., had told it very well, but had not waited or watched
to find out the whole story. May I tell it to your young folks ?

The California woodpecker is a stock-grower, and raises his own
fresh meat. He sticks the tree full of acorns, to be sure; and, by and
by, the acorns are all lively with worms, and then it is that he reaps
the rich reward of his toil.
We have been told that the blue jay often helps at the business.
Boss Woodpecker drills the hole, and if the blue jay is not at hand
with an acorn to fit it, the brisk little workman screams out in loud,
sharp tones, as if scolding the lazy blue jay.
Whether this partnership extends to the harvest season, we have
not yet learned. Some sharp-eyed little Jennie must find that out

Here is still further evidence, from a Chicago girl:
As to woodpeckers "packing their trunks," some years since, a
friend, who is a great enthusiast in natural history, and has noticed
the habits of birds, told me of this practice of the woodpeckers; but
he said that it is for the sake of the worms which, after a sufficiently

long time, will inhabit them, that the acorns are so carefully packed
away, where they can easily be found when wanted. It may be that
the woodpeckers like the meat of the acorn also; but what wonder-
ful instinct it is that teaches them thus cunningly to plan for their
winter food! Susy H. WELLES.

-- (. -

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THIS letter from a Baltimore girl will interest
you, especially after hearing about the horn-book
and the wax writing-tables, of which your Jack tells
you this month :
DEAR JACK: I have been reading a very interesting book that tells
about schools in India, and I thought the information well worth
sending to you. These schools must be curious affairs. A village
school is held under a large spreading tree, where the soil is all sand.
About thirty or forty boys sit around in a circle, and the master stands
in the middle, with his rod in his hand. He gives out a question in
spelling or arithmetic, and all the scholars answer together, each
boy writing the word in the sand with his fingers; and when done,
springing to his feet, raising his right hand to his forehead, and mak-
ing a bow, to indicate that he is ready for another question.
Even in universities, where young men are taught, they sit in cir-
cles on the floor, cross-legged,-hundreds of them. The professors
stand between them, so as to teach several circles at once. Each
student has a book, and studies the text out aloud, swinging back
and forth, and all do this at once It sounds like Babel.-Yours.
H. M.

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MIAOU! What sort of a kitten do you call yourself, I wonder !-and
where are your manners, I should like to know? Here have I been
standing for a quarter of an hour, saying all the pretty things I can think
of to you, and not so much as a purr can I get in reply. It is very rude,
too, to mock me in that way, and imitate everything I do. My mother
has always taught me to be polite to strangers; but perhaps you have n't
any mother, poor thing! and never learned any manners. It is a pity,
for you are a good-looking kitten,-something like me, in fact, only not
so pretty. Miss Jenny, my mistress, said yesterday that I was the pret-
tiest kitten in the world-and of course she knows, for she goes to school
and learns lessons out of a book. I thought awhile ago that I should
like to go to school too, and learn lessons. So one day I started to
follow Miss Jenny up the lane; but a great ugly monster of a dog barked
at me, and frightened me out of my wits. So then I thought I would
learn to read too; and as all the reading is in books, I thought the best
way would be to eat one. But before I had eaten half a leaf, Miss Jenny
came in, and she took away the book and called me a naughty kitten,
and mother boxed my ears and sent me to. bed without any supper; so
after that I decided that reading was not good for kittens.
Well, you strange cat !-not a word from you yet? Come now, do
be good-natured and come out from behind that window. Such a grand
frolic as we might have together! My brother Tom was given away last
week. He jumped up on the breakfast-table; and upset the cream-jug all
over my mistress's new dress; and she said, "That comes of having so
many cats about! One of them must go to-day "-and so Tom. went.
Well, I cannot waste my time here any longer, for there is nothing to
be got out of you but rudeness. I shall never come to see you again.
And of all the ugly, rude, disagreeable kittens- I ever saw-
There! See what you 've done! You made me so mad that I've
knocked over Miss Jenny's beautiful blue and gold smelling-bottle, that
her grandpapa gave her on Christmas!
There! it has rolled off the dressing-table and broken into bits. Oh!
I 'm sure I '11 get no supper to-night; and-oh dear-what skall I do if
mother boxes my ears again! Oh !oh! You've knocked off
your bottle, too My! wont you get whipped, though !



Words by "ALBA" (From "Little Folk Songs").
A llegeito.

Music by F. BOOTT.

wait ing for you. So o pen your leaves like good flow-ers, do! So o pen your leaves now like
me, to, t a bed." Yet there you lie sleep ing as if you were dead, Yet there you lie sleep-ing as

Lm F

good flow-ers, do!...... Vi o- lets, vi o lets, o pen your leaves, The spar ows are ohirp- ing from
if you were dead .... Vi o lets, vi lets, o pen your leaves, The spar rows are chirp- ing from






THE sun rose above the hills, and sent its rays down upon the old
farm-house. All were lively, and at work; even the house itself
seemed very busy 3 -.. Li....i.. Behind the old house stood a
garden, in which ig -., :r l:.i.. On the other hand were a large
barn and barn-yard. The cattle came running out, and were fol-
lowed by a lad whistling. He was going to drive them to pasture.
He soon came home, and had a good breakfast, as country people
generally do.
But I must not forget to mention that they had a great many
sheep, hogs, and fowls. A little brook ran down past the house. An
old log hut, which served for a duck-house, was made on a bridge
over the river or stream. Behind the hill was an old shanty with
glass on one side, and here was the hen-house. Under the barn
was a large cellar, where the pigs dwelt.
The family consisted of the old farmer, his wife, and six boys:
John, the oldest, about eighteen years old; Will, sixteen; Charles,
fourteen; then Harry, the rogue of the family, eleven, and two
others, twins, Arthur and Edwin, eight years old. Arthur was a
cripple, owing to a fall on the ice three years before the time of which
I write. There were also three girls: Ann, seventeen years old, her
mother's help in everything: Jennie, twelve; and "Golden Locks,"
as she was called in the family, a bright little girl four years old.
The farmer had a large lot of land far back in the woods. The
boys were going down some day, and so, packing up a large stock of
provisions and clothing, each one taking a gun and some powder,
they started. There was a large log hut, close and warm, which the
boys had made some time ago. They got there all safe, and entered
it, and packed the things away. Soon everything was in order, and
the hut comfortable for their stay. Some of the boys went out and
got wood, and a blazing fire was made.
They went hunting, and returned with much game from the forest,
such as rabbits, foxes, and a deer.
But let us see what was going on at the old farm-house. The
farmer had gone to work, it seemed, but it was different from usual.
He had no one to give orders to, but had to take that position him-
self. He worked away as well as he could, and thought to himself,
"How silly I was to let those boys go away After two or three
days the boys came back, and made the farm-house cheerful again.
One of the boys harnessed up the old horse to a wagon, and, taking
some apples and potatoes, went to the city to sell them. They watched
him till he was over the hill, and then went to work.
They waited several days before he came home. On his return he
brought money with him, and a volume of ST. NICHOLAS for the little
cripple. F. M. F.


BEAUTIFUL soap-bubbles, castles of air,
Colors are coming and vanishing there,
Free as thought which hath no care-
Now dark and rich, now bright and fair;
Now pink, n .- "ren now purple and blue,
Now red as r. .. .11 : with dew;
Some of the colors are strange and new,
Always changing to different hue.

Now comes the bronze just tipped with blue,
And a black streak running through and through.
This bubble must go as all others do,
And I've no more time to scribble to you. s. s.


I.-A LITTLE way back from the village street stands the Mansion
of Old, and its antique porticoes are clad in its armor of holly bright.
2.-No one to care for the Mansion of Old, it stands like a corpse
robed in her shroud of decay.
3.-The world goes on, and little it thinks of the Mansion of Old.
The clock on the stair went tick, tick, tick, but no one to wind the
clock of old.
4.-The years roll on, and people married and went, but the Man-
sion of Old still stands alone.
5.-The tall poplars that shade the Mansion of Old still stand as
stately as kings; they are the only ones that care for the Mansion of
6.-The years roll on, and the people came and the people went,
but no one thinks of the Mansion of Old.

7.-The poplars mourn, and the clock on the stair stills its "tick,
tick, tick," but no one sees the Mansion of Old.
8.-The summer comes, and the flowers doth bloom, and the pop-
lars robe themselves in their shroud of green, and still they mourn for
the Mansion of Old.
9. -The bird doth come and build her nest, and the bee flies back
to her hive, the butterfly comes for pleasure and gain, but they never
think of the Mansion of Old. c. w. l'lI.


A CORRESPONDENT sends a long account of a dog, now living in
the city of New York, whose extraordinary performances entitle him
to be considered a great prodigy. We should be glad to give our
young friends the pleasure of reading the entire letter, but lack of
space compels us to print only the principal portions.

Snyder," says the writer, for by this familiar name is the little
fellow known, is a lank, awkward, uncanny Scotch terrier, of about
medium size, wide-mouthed, small-eyed, and shaggy-haired. His
appearance is far from prepossessing, and it is not until you are near
enough to peer through the shaggy fringe overlapping his small
brown eyes, and perceive how exceedingly brilliant and alert they
are, that you suspect him of possessing remarkable powers.
Nothing is known of his early history, for the little fellow was a
vagrant, as dogs often are. He came to the store one morning, of his
own accord, and with a fixed resolve to claim it thenceforward as his
residence. During the first few months after his arrival, he was re-
peatedly given and driven away by the inmates, but he invariably
returned, until it was evident that they would be obliged to keep him.
Snyder soon proved a most valuable acquisition. His faithfulness
and intelligence surprised everybody in the store; the tricks which he
learned to perform made pleasant many an idle hour; and the things
he did that were iot tricks, and that none but his own native wisdom
could have taught him, were not only remarkable, but of real and
substantial value. As the news of his achievements got abroad, the
master found the new-comer a valuable possession, and some very
tempting offers for his purchase were freely made to the one who, not
long before, would willingly have given him away. To his credit be
it said, he now declined all these, and steadily refused to part with
his faithful little servant.
One wintry night, Snyder's faithfulness saved his owner at least
one hundred and fifty dollars. The dog always sleeps in the store,
and is an excellent watch-dog, not only as regards intruders from
without, but accidents or mishaps within. On the night referred to,
some accident happened to the water-pipes on the floor above, and
the water soon after began to ooze through the ceiling. So rapidly
did it make its way, that in a few minutes a large portion of the plas-
tering fell, which must have attracted Snyder to the spot. He saw
the hole m the dripping ceiling, saw the water gathering into a little
stream, saw that it would soon be pouring upon the goods,-and the
next moment was upstairs in the room where the porter slept, pawing
and scratching at the sleeper's head and face. Of course, the porter
was soon thoroughly awakened; and then there was no rest or peace
until he was down-stairs, the leak stopped, the goods removed, the
buckets placed in position, and Snyder left watching, ready to give
the alarm again if the water should burst out a second time. And
Snyder stood at his post and watched faithfully; and the porter,
knowing his fidelity, slept peacefully all night.
He has made other nocturnal visits to the porter-each time with
a repetition of his peculiar "tattoo" upon the dreamer's face. On
one occasion, it was because the gas was escaping at a ruinous rate,
and Snyder, who did not know exactly what had happened, but was
sure that there was 'something in the air,' was obliged to invoke the
honest porter's aid, whereby he again saved money for his master.
As for still another of his disturbing calls, it must be owned that it
was of no profit to anybody, and of much less credit to himself. It
happened that one of the employees, on his departure at evening,
had carelessly left his old hat and an office-coat hanging upon a
broom-stick, which, adorned in this way, looked almost as if endowed
with life, and presented a very respectable resemblance to a man.
Snyder, on his nightly rounds, had discovered the strange apparition,
had mistaken it for a burglar, and not choosing to fly at the intruder's
throat, had fulfilled the old adage about valor and discretion, and
flown at the porter's throat instead ..
"It may be supposed that he is allowed to have his own way
in the store where he resides, and his life there is a very quiet and
peaceful one. He is usually to be found lying before the stove, or
wandering restlessly, as is his frequent habit, about the premises,
glancing intently at everybody and prying into everything. As you




enter, he will probably come toward you, slowly and with a kind of
listless swagger, until within six feet of you, when he will halt and
look steadily at you for a few moments, as if to fix your image in his
mind, or perhaps to satisfy himself-who knows ?-that your purposes
are innocent and praiseworthy. And then, after this careful inspec-
tion, he will wheel around as listlessly as ever, and return to his old
place beside the stove.
Such, at least, was the way that he welcomed r~e when I first
saw him. I went to the store, at the request of a friend, with the
single purpose of seeing the dc .. .-i -. .'... idly by the coun-
ter, when I suddenly became -. :... : .:' i I .... like that which
dazzles us in the reflection of a ray of light from a bit of mirror.
Looking downward, I perceived that it came from Snyder's eyes,
which were fixed strongly and steadily on mine. He had two heavy
door-keys in his mouth (which seemed large enough to hold a dozen
more), and, having approached me unperceived, was standing there
in his usual way, gazing up at me from out his saucy ugliness. His
look, half-careless, half-defiant, was this time rendered laughably
serious and important by the two keys dangling from his jaws. He
was evidently an officious and suspicious janitor; but after the usual
time of searching scrutiny, he turned away, satisfied, apparently, that
I was worthy of no further notice-a compliment which I should cer-
tainly have returned but for the action of the clerk, who suddenly
stooped, and, snatching the keys from Snyder's mouth, placed them
on a shelf as high as one's head.
This interference transformed the dog into a state of restless ac-
tivity, which engaged all eyes. He first began to whine as if entreat-
ing the restoration of his stolen property; then gave a few sharp and
sudden barks of indignation; and, finally, became silent, as he began
a curious gyration, wheeling gradually around in a circle, and scan-
ning intently everything within range of his eyes. He was evidently
measuring his chances and searching for his means; and the latter he
was not long in finding, for there, about twenty feet away, stood the
book-keeper's stool, which, being then vacant, was as much his prop-
erty as anybody's. And so he thought, indeed, for in an instant what
should he do but rush forward to that stool (which was heavy enough
to have broken his back if it-had fallen on him, but which he, being
a very wiry little fellow, was quite able and determined to manage);
and what should he do next but drag it slowly forward toward the
shelf, holding to the round with one foot, and moving at an awkward
but very steady gait upon the other three. And then, as we stood
watching the sly fellow and wondering if he would succeed, on he
drew the stool until quite near the shelf, and up he went with a
bound;' till at last, seated upon three legs, he stretched out the re-
maining paw toward his treasures, in a way so eager but vain (since
the stool was not yet near enough), so serious but utterly comical,

that the tenderest and hardest-hearted must have laughed alike at his
ambitious pawing of the empty air.
It was a sorry grief to Snyder to see that he had erred in calcula-
tion; but he jumped down from his pedestal and moved it nearer,
keeping all the time a wary eye upon the clerk, who did not interfere
a second time. And then, a moment after, there was the little hero
on the stool again; and there was his paw stretched anxiously and
tremulously forward, as if he were afraid that some accident might
happen even yet; and there, just below the shelf, and ready to receive
the keys as they should drop, was his great yawning mouth; and
there, finally, were the keys themselves, caught beautifully between
his teeth, and with a snap of victory, as he raked them off the shelf!
Of course, the applause which followed Snyder's piece of general-
ship was loud and hearty; but he seemed careless, if not actually
resentful, of our admiration (which, seeing that our aid would have
been of much more real value to him, was not unnatural); and I fan-
cied that he considered his achievement as something quite ordinary,
which we might have foreseen or expected, had we possessed as full a
knowledge of his powers as he had. He came down from his perch
quite modestly, and went, to his customary place beside the stove,
only still keeping the keys in his mouth, and not taking the trouble
to replace the stool, which little discourtesies were readily forgiven.
. .. As for personal habits, there was never a being born
who was better able to care for himself than Snyder is: and every
day of his eventful life (at regular hours, too, I suppose), he goes
to a certain keg, wherein he keeps his dinner-basket; and, with
the handle of the basket between his teeth, he walks demurely
to the door, opens and closes it, turning the latch as handsomely as
anybody could, and goes up the street and into the butcher's shop
where he is fed. Then the meat must be clean and perfectly un-
tainted, for he is a connoisseur at marketing, and is known to have
deserted a butcher who gave him food of a somewhat doubtful quality,
and to have gone of his own accord to another, some distance farther
up the street. This latter caterer, by prompt and faithful attention,
still enjoys his patronage, and gives him regularly a fine piece of
meat ......
"And so he lives, and so he has gradually become known to all the
customers of the store and all their friends, until Snyder is now quite
an advertisement for his owner. And I, when I had read about
Victor Royl and his wonderful Wild Mazeppa and Professor Mac-
foozelem, imagined that many a Victor Royl among the ST. NICHOLAS
readers would be glad to hear about this homely little fellow, who
has no such high-sounding name as either of Victor's prodigies, but
who has actually done almost as marvelous things as he 'thought
they would do in time.'
For this story of Snyder is true."

(Drawn by a Young Contributor.)






CONTrzIBUTORS 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, contributors
who wish to favor the magazine will please postpone sending their
articles until after the last-named date.

Oakland, Cal.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Here, in California, we have the new sort
of kite mentioned in the April number of ST. NICHOLAS. I have
two of them. One of them represents a pair of fish, and the other
two birds. You are not quite right about the character of the music,
the "soft, charming music," sounding like a young saw-mill in
operation. The hummer, as we call it, is fastened above the kite,
and looks like this:

A is a thin strip of bamboo, which is kept tight by the bow, C; B is
the vertical stick of the kite. The kites were given to me by the
Chinese servant we employ, Ah Line by name.
The Chinese kites represent various things. Some represent the
moon and seven stars, others centipedes, others fish, and others
Saturday night I sent my kite up with a paper-lantern on the end.
It looked very funny, as you could not see the kite.
Hoping this will throw some light on how the music is produced,
-I remain your constant reader, Wmt. ARMES.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: What is the solution, and who is the au-
thor of the following riddle?

There was a man of Adam's race,
Who had a certain dwelling-place;
He had a house all covered o'er,
Where no man dwelt since or before.
It was not built by human art,
Of brick or lime in any part,
Of rock or stone, in cave or kiln,
But curiously was wrought within.
'Twas not in Heaven, nor yet in hell,
Nor on the earth, where mortals dwell.
Now, if you know this man of fame,
Tell where he lived, and what his name.

I have never been able to find out anything about it, except that
it is very old.-Your constant reader, STELLA M. KENYON.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Last winter, on a very cold day, I went
down to the chicken-coop, and in one of the nests I found a little
kitten, that was almost dead with cold. After covering her carefully,
I came into the house, and left her there all night. Next morning
she came out to eat with the chickens. We always give our chickens
meat, and the kitten ate that. She soon became strong and well, but
still she slept in the nest at night. She would play with the chickens
all day, and when they lay under the bushes she would lie by them,
and I never knew her to hurt any of the little chickens or the old ones.
We began to expect to hear her crow, or to see her tail-feathers grow-
ing. When we had little chickens she would play with them. When
the chickens went to eat, she would run and rub against them and
under their necks, so they could not get their bills to the ground. She
is a large cat now, but she still makes visits to the chickens, and we
call her the chicken-cat. ROBERT THORNE NEWBEERY.

Toledo, Ohio.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I saw that list of cities, with their names,
that Lewis L. Smith sent. I think that he has forgotten one.
Toledo, Ohio, is called "Corn City." My mother thought that
Toledo was not 'important enough, but as I live there, I could not
let it go.
In 1870, it had about 31,000; now it has over 50,000. Please tell
the children about this. ALEXIS COLEMAN.

THE following lines, as we are assured by her friends, were im-
provised at Rye Beach, N. H., by a little girl six years old:
Cold, blue ocean, dark and deep,
How I love thy placid sleep!
Waves of fierceness, do not roar
Upon the sand-beach lonely shore.
For thou art so deep and wild,
Thou frightenest a little child.

My DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I thought perhaps you would like to
know about my journey to Heidelberg, in Germany.
Heidelberg is a queer old town, with narrow streets, and most of
them without side-walks. There are some very old churches, and
one, called the Church of the Holy Spirit, is one-half Protestant and
the other Catholic. But the best of all is the castle. We used to
have such fun finding our way in and out the ruins. Sometimes we
would take a candle, and trudge along through long, dark, lonely
underground passages, which were, I suppose, in their days, often
trodden by knights and princes. I was there two years, and got to
know the castle pretty thoroughly.
Will you please print this if there is room in the Letter-Box ?
I have taken you for two or three years, and like your stories very
much. So does my brother.-Good-bye. From a friend. E. T. E.

Washington, D. C.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Allow me to congratulate the prize win-
ners of the "Pilot Puzzle" through you: and I am sure that in
doing so I am heartily joined by all who were in any way interested
in the puzzle.-Your constant friend and reader,

Hope Seminary, Hope, Ind., March, r876.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I have wanted for some time to write you
a letter about our birds,and must really not put it off any longer.
I wish some of your readers could see what we see every day, but
most particularly yesterday morning. During the night there had
been a fall of snow that covered the ground completely, and it was
still snowing when we came down-stairs in the morning.
Before the door there was such an array of robins, we counted
as many as one hundred. Mamma has a feeding-tray there, upon
the stump of an old peach tree, and they and all the other wild birds
depend on finding food there all the winter.
It was bitter cold. The birds of passage had come to us with the
very mild days of February, and here they were in the greatest need.
The first thing we did was to have a large loaf of corn bread
baked, and from that we had to keep feeding them all day long.
Now, 1 will give you a list of all the birds that came to us, and
then what we gave them. Besides flocks of robins, there were wood-
peckers, cardinal red birds, blue jays, cedar birds, blackbirds,
p.r *.. : blue-birds, and snow-birds. During the winter we feed the
1.. ; ,,1. bread-crumbs, scraps of cold meat chopped up, cracked
hickory nuts and walnuts, dried pokeberries, hemp and canary
seed, &c.
The ground was covered with birds, and they were so cold thao
they crouched upon their little feet to keep them warm.
They staid about the house till it was almost dark, and we were
afraid they would perish; but while we were watching and wonder-
ing, they all flew off to their sleeping-places among the evergreens -
Your very devoted reader, JENNIE E. HOLLAND.

W. E.-You can be a Bird-defender. The next muster-roll will ap-
pear in the July number.

Portland, Me.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: After reading about how to make Christ-
mas presents in the December number, I thought I would write and
tell you how to make a very pretty picture-book for children, one
that they can't tear.
For materials, you will need some white, and any other color you
prefer (blue is pretty), sarsenet cambric, some worsted the shade of
your cambric, and some bright pictures. Now, cut your cambric
into twelve sheets, about the size of a sheet of music, half white and
half colored, then button-hole them together separately, two at a
time, a white one and a colored one, and when you have them all
done,, tie them together with three ribbon-bows, the color of the
worsted, and then paste in your pictures prettily, the bright ones
on the white cambric and the prints on the colored, and then you
have a pretty book at a very little expense, and one that will last
longer than the ones that you buy.
I am very much interested in cooking, and I like the Little House-
keepers' page very much.-Yours truly, M. S.




Newport, R. I.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Will you please inquire through your Letter-
Box, if any of your readers know of the whereabouts of" Marmaduke
Multiply," who used to. be such a friend to the children in teaching
the multiplication-table when our mamma was a little girl? It is full
of bright pictures, and begins, "Twice one are two, this book is
something new;" and thus goes on through the whole table in rhyme.
Mamma has in vain tried to get it, but thinks it is out of print.
Can't a copy be procured somewhere to have some printed like it?
We are sure all the children would like to have one.-Yours respect-
fully, B. AND M.
Atlanta, Ga.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I will introduce myself by telling you I am
eight years old, and have never been to school, as I am not very
strong. I have been taught the little I know by my mother. Santa
Claus sends me the ST. NICHOLAS this year, and I like it very much.
I will send a poem to you I composed, which my mother this will
do to publish in it.-Yours with love, CARL S. HUBNER.
By a spring a flower stood,
In a green and shady wood;
Bright and fragrant little flower,
Waiting for a golden shower.
Such a pretty little thing,
Growing by the mossy spring;
Trying hard its head to sink,
To get a sweet and cooling drink.
When the sun has gone to rest,
Sinking in the glowing west,
Then the dew your lips will wet,
Tender little violet.

Orphan Home, Bath, Me.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Your magazine is perfectly splendid, and
I don't believe there are any boys in the country so glad to get it as
we are. I think the most of Mr. Trowbridge's stories-he is my
man; and Willie C. always asks if there is anything of Mr. Bonwig
in the book, and then he exclaims, "Bless me, I am surprised "
"The Young Surveyor" was tip-top, and we are interested in "The
Boy Emigrants." I hope they'll come out well, but it seems to
me rather risky for those fellows to be out there in that wild region
alone. Do you suppose Bill Bunce will get hung? Perhaps I ought
to say "W. Bunce!"
But you don't know who I am, do you? Well, we are all soldier
boys. Our fathers were in the war, and we live, together at the
Orphan Home. We are just like other boys; some of us are pretty
good, and some are going to be better by and by. If ever you come
to Maine, you must come and see us, and we will show you how well
we keep you. The numbers we have of you are beautifully bound,
and we have to have our hands clean when we take them.
Good-by till next May, when I shall be happy to greet you.-
Yours truly, R. FRANK SAWYER.

THE frontispiece of the present number is taken from Messrs. Estes
& Lauriat's beautiful edition of Guizot's "History of France."

ANNA M. (aged twelve) and MADGE WILDFIRE" (aged ten).-
Your trick is too transparent.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am ten years old. I sold my setter pup
for two dollars, and mamma gave me one dollar for helping her with
her flowers, and I took all of my money to get ST. NICHOLAS, and I
think it the best spent three dollars I ever spent.
I hope you will read my Short Tale," and give me one of the
nice premiums you promised for it.--Youi little friend, T. L. B.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I live in Minnesota, on the St. Paul and
Pacific Railroad, in Kandiyohi Station, Kandiyohi County. I take
the ST. NICHOLAS; I like it very much. We have a horse and a
cow. We call the horse Doll. I have a little brother and sister.
Freddie (that is my brother's name) has a little rocking-horse, which
he calls Doll, after our horse, and does not like for his sister to touch
it, and for that very reason she likes to get at it. The other day I
went to ride on Doll: when I had done riding, nothing would do
Freddie but he must ride on the real horse, too. So pa got on Doll,,
and took Freddie on with him, and they took a ride. Freddie went
to sleep while they were riding. May (that is my sister) wanted to
go, too, but pa did not know it till he had put Dolt away, and then
it was too late. I was looking at the ST. NICHOLAS the other day,
Freddie came up to me, and said "Find Doll." I found Bob. After
looking at it, Freddie said, "That is Bob." Freddie is two years
old, and May is nine months old. I go to school. We have six
months' school this year, three in the summer and three in the

winter. The winter term began in January, and ends this month.
I love your paper very much, for 1 like reading better than anything
else.-Waitmg for your paper, I remain, your constant reader,

DEAR LITTLE SCHOOLMA'AM : I want to send the little "tale" to
you, and I hope it is accurate, neat, and of good penmanship, and I
hope I will get a prize. I am thirteen years and a few days more
than two months, and I have got red hair, but it is dark red.--Your
faithful reader, G. T.

Garden Grove, Iowa.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Will you please tell me what land-snails live
on, and if there are snails that have no shells ?-Yours truly,
Snails live principally upon plants or vegetables, though they some-
times devour each other. They are often very injurious to gardens,
doing great mischief to the plants in a single night. There are species
that are without shells.

Ishpeming, Mich., April Io, 1876.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have been wishing summer would come,
and thinking what fun I had last summer. I live in such a cold
country, where the winters are so long, I get very tired of them,
though when the sleighing is good I have fun with my sled-a very
nice sled that my cousin Will gave me, because he broke my old
one. But now it is so muddy and slushy I can't take my sled out,
so I long for the time to come when we can play ball.
We have a nice yard, all sodded, on the north side of our house,
and a large rock at one side of the yard, that we use when we play
"Indian. I have a little brother named Willie, who will be four
years old this month. I am seven now, will be eight in September.
I take the Sr. NICHOLAS, my brother takes the Aiursery. I read
them to him, and we both enjoy them very much.
I like the "B', %t r.:. -.i: better than any story I ever read, and
I think the ST. N' ..: iI, best magazine ever published. Here
I will end.-Your most constant reader, FRANK B. MYERS.

East Greenbush. N. Y.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I like you so much. Santa Claus sent you
to me more than a year ago, and you have come every month since.
I want to tell you something: Last winter my auntie took me to
New York, to see the grand sights. Soon after I arrived there 1
was taken sick, and had to lie in bed a great many days. Of course,
I was very much disappointed, and the days seemed very long.
And this is the way I became acquainted with Miss Alcott, who
writes for your magazine. She was staying at the same hotel, and
when she heard I was sick, she used to come in my room and tell me
stories. I thought she was very kind and interesting, and I enjoyed
her stories so much. I am well now, and my mammahaspromised to
get all the numbers bound, so that I may lend the book to any little
boys who are sick and don't have Miss Alcott to tell them nice
stories.-Your little friend, WILLIE A. RICHARDSON.

LITERATURE FOR LITTLE FOLKS. Selections from Standard
Authors and Easy Lessons in Composition. By Elizabeth Lloyd.
Philadelphia: Sower, Potts & Co.
WATER WAIF: A Story of the Revolution. By Elizabeth S.
Bladen. Philadelphia: Claxton, Remsen & Haffelfinger.
From American Tract Society, New York: THE STORM OF LIFE,
by Hesba Stretton: WHAT ROBBIE WAS GOOD FOR, by Mrs. M. D.
Brine: THE VICTORY WON, by C. S. M.
MY YOUNG ALCIDEs. By Charlotte M. Yonge. New York:
Macmillan & Co.
How TO WRITE LETTERS. By J. Willis Wesdake, A. M. Phila-
delphia: Sower, Potts & Co.
The following music has been received:
From S. T. Gordon & Son, New York:
MURnaURS. Song. Words by Adelaide Anne Procter Music by
Thos. P. Murphy.
NIL DESPERANDUM. Galop. By Thos P. Murphy.
From Bigelow & Main, New York:
BYE, BABY, BYE. Lullaby. Words by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Music by Hubert P. Main.
From F. W. Helmick, New York:
Music by Eddie Fox.

2876.] THE RIDDLE-BOX. 535


REBUS, No. 1.

$~ ____

$ f~

: r.5.

.... -_, ,

I AMi composed of twenty-five letters. My 3, 22, 7, 20, 2 4 is a BEHEAD and curtail words having the following significations, and
small fruit. My 5, 15, x9, x1, 24 is an aromatic plant. My 7, 9, x8, leave a complete diamond: i. A card. 2. A masculine name. 3.
8, i is a blacksmith's tool. My 14, 12, 6, 1, 06 is a rapacious bird. Useful on a door-step. 4. Narrow fillets or bands. 5. To unite.
My 18, 24, 9, s2, io is a planet. My 2o, 17, 22, 2, 23 is a European The following form the diamond: i. In city and country. 2. A
city. My 25, 4 12, 22, 13 is a voracious fish. My whole is a masculine name. 3. A kind of cloth. 4. An animal. 5. In vice and
proverb. ISOLA. virtue. CYRIL DEANE.

MY first a much-used vessel is,
Or means to have capacities;
My second is a heavy load,
And also the prevailing mode;
My whole you 'll quickly understand,
If I send you off to Switzerland.

MY first is in bugle, but not in horn;
My second's in sunset, but not.in mori;
My third is in land, but not in sea;
My fourth is in flower, but not in tree;
My fifth is in earl, but not in king;
My sixth is in twist, but not in wring.
Put these together,
You have my all;
Swift as an arrow,
Round as a ball

L. W. H.

i. SWIFT. 2. Fragrance. 3. Pertaining to the poles. 4. A like-
ness. 5. Challenged. M.

(Advice to those in high stations.)

F. B.

CONCEALED in the following sentence are five words, occurring in
their order, which when found and placed in proper positions will
form a square word:
The short lyric poem the frail youth wrote was not worth a rupee,
being filled with stale, prosy items, and as tedious as a game of
chess. J. p. B.

My first the suitor hears with dread,
S "i li-i-However sweetly it be said.
The debtor fears my second more;
With first repels it o'er and o'er.
Could he, through all his future days,
Have first and second meet his gaze,
He'd feed and fatten on his neighbor
Who lives and thrives by honest labor.
I know you'd count it dreadful loss
If you should have my third a cross.
My fourth is used by ancient maids,
Who say their intellect it aids;
Of gossip and of wit provocative,
It warms their blood and makes them talkative.
My whole by virtue is not won,
Where father gives it the son:
DOUBLE ACROSTIC. With us the candid mind discerns it
In every man who fairly earns it. D.
THE initials name a famous island, and the finals the largest objectD PUZZLE.
to be found upon it. Four. 2. A famous lake. 3. A title of no- DIAMOND PUZZLE.
bilty. 4. Brief and concise in style. 5. A prophetess. 6. A cele- I. A OWEL. 2. Quick. 3. Part of the year. 4. A metal. 5. A
brated philosopher. 7. An extinct bird. i. w. n consonant. C. G. B.

4:-- -



REBUS, No. 2.

B Az: '' ~
.9. V.-c


DOUBLE ACROSTIC--Schuyler, Burgoyne.
S -hru- B
C --hapea- U
H -eife-- R
U-mbago- G
Y -edd- O
L -il- Y
E -nsig-- N
R -ifl- E
LOGOGRIPH.-Cat, mat, bat, sat, Pat, hat, fat, pat.
EASY BEHEADED RHYMES.-Finches, inches. Bringing, ringing.
NOVEL PUZZLE.-T. Madden. 2. Denmark. 3. Market. 4. Etna.
5. Naval. 6. Valley. 7. Leyden. 8. Dental. 9. Talon. 1o. Onset.
in. Settee.
PICTURE PUZZLE.-Be intent on charity (B in tent on chair at tea).
NUMERICAL ENIGMA.-Pulp, in, jacket, hit, Jack-in-the-Pulpit.
DECAPITATIONS.-I. Scoffer, coffer, offer. 2. Preparation, repara-
tion. 3. Bore, ore. 4. Oliver, liver.
ILLUSTRATED PROVERB.-"A friend in need is a friend indeed."
CONCEALED DOUBLE ACROSTIC.-Astronomer, Moon-starer.
A -lar- M
S -ol- 0
T -oled- O
R -ave- N
O -pera- S
N -ea- T
0 -meg- A
M -a- R
E -v- E
R -oa- R

SYNCOPATIONS.-I. Crow, cow. 2. Meat, mat. t. Cart, cat. 4.
Dime, die. 5. Pain, pan. 6. Boat, bat. 7. Load, lad. 8. Bread,
bead. 9. Clock, cock. 1o. Coat, cot.
REBUS.- Oft in the still night,
When slumber's chains have bound me,
Fond mem'ry brings the light
Of other days around me.
DIAMOND PUZZLE.-W, Cap, Wales, Pen, S.
DOUBLE ACROSTIC:--Robert Bums, Robert Bruce.
R -amble- R
O -th- 0
B-abel Mande-B
E -rskin- E
R -uyte- R
T -rea- T
B -om- B
U -she- R
R -ichelie- U
N. C. North Carolina)
S -ax-- E
SQUARE-WORD.-Lark, Aloe, Rose, Keel.

ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN APRIL NUMBER were received, previous to April 18, from Arnold Guyot Cameron, Alice Robinson, Charlie
Loesch, Restissimo," Katie A. Nicholls, Nellie S. Colby, F. B. N. and K. W. N., Lucy A. Barbour, "C. O. B. Webb," Emma Elliott,
S. H. Griest, Lulie," Cupid, Venus, and Psyche," May W. Bond, Alice Taylor, Blanche Nichols, M. W. Collet, Lehman D. Schaffer,
Edna B. Smith, Annie C. Edmonds, John R. Lapham, Edith S. C.. Lillie May Farman, Rachel Geddes, Georgie and Helen Hayes, Ella
Higbee, Mollie Ritchie, Howard S. Rodgers, Bessie Taylor, O. Delancie Ward, "Roderick," C. W. Homor, Jr., Lulie French, Alice W.
Edwards, Stella B. Mitchell. Anna J. Opper, Joseph O. Davis, H. Engelbert, Daisy and Dollie Deane, Alice Broome, Kitty Loomis, M. M.
Tronson, Marie Couchard, Harold Nathan, Guy W. Currier, "Caiy and Carlo," Bunker Hill," Lou Marie," Fred W. McKee, Lizzie
and Bertha Lee, Geo. H. Dale, Oda Deuchar, J. Le B. Drumm, B. P. Emery, Howard D. Humphrey, Harry C. Wiles, ClaraT. Walworth,
Lena Long, Jessie E. Hay, Samuel E. Lusk, "Hunter," Howard S. Rodgers, Nannie C. Long, Willie Pemne, Bessie Cocke, Florence E.
Hyde, Helen S. Mackintosh, E. Benj. Cushing, W. H. Rowe, Mary B. Stebbins, Lida B. Graves, John Zebley, Jr., Win. F. Bridge, Jr.,
Charlie W. Olcott,." Winnie," Annie L. Sharp, W. S. Sutton, Chas. N. Moulton, Annie E. Hilands, Lilian M. Chambers, "Cadiz," Brainerd
P Emery, Allie Anthony, Harriet B. Townsend, Sue Slaymaker, Addie C. Mead, "Golden Eagle," Nellie Beach Two Friends," Winifred
P. Ballard, Hattie Hamilton, Brenda ;' r A. Townsend, Helen L. Brainerd, Edward Fiske, Mamie L. Harrison, Gertie B Adams.
M. N. Ballinger, Gertrude C. Eager, ii I ...," Maggie Acheson, Kitty H. Chapman, Fred Collins, Louise Ensign, Lillie J. Studebaker,
A. J. Lewis, Cecil Grey, Carrie E. Powell, John C. Robertson, Wm. Creighton Spencer, Nellie Emerson, "Apollo," Addie S. Church, Belle
Benton, Alice Robinson, Henry O. Fetter, Lizzie B. Allen, "Alex," Cecilia Rice, Thomas Hunt, John Hinkley, Lizzie Little, Lucy M.
Brace, Josie McLaughlin. Libbie E. Noxon, C. T. S., Grant McCargo, Lizzie G. Hea, Mary W. Wadsworth, Clive Mechlin, Alburtis Sea-
boldt, Ted Butler, Willie Locke, Mary H. Washbure, W. L. Young, Nessie Stevens, Albert L. Gould, E. C. Wilstach, Lizzie C. Brown,
Madeline D. W. Smith, Edward S. Emory, Genevieve Allis, Freddie S. Pickett, Maria and Katy," H. T., Roland," J. K. W, Hattie
Gibson, Max and Helen," Cornelia A. Pratt, Jennie W. Ward. S. M. Beekley,. Arthur H. Brown, Lena Trego, Kittie Warren, Susie N.
Pierce, N. Blanche Mosier, E. D. and C. F. Hennessey, Mamie E. Sanders, Robert L. Parsons, "Helen," C. H. Tibbitts, Jr., Ernest L.
Browne, Robert L. McAlpine, Kenneth L. Browne, Hodena," Grace Keysham, A. E. and C. Mestre, Fannie Stone, Bessie G. McLaren,
Nellie J. Evans, Fannie M. Beck, Clayton S. Fitch, H. L., Minnie M. Tilden, Alice H. Fuller, Gertrude C. Eager, Helen W. Clarkson,
Polly Light, "Leila," Bessie V. McCargo, Warren E. Thomas, Rachel Hutchins Winnie Howells, Hattie H. Johnson, Perlee and Isabel
Rieman, Mary Lill, John B. Greiner, Allie Bertram, Bessie B. McElhinney, John Pyne, Fletcher Dubois, L. F. C., Carrie Johnson, Anna
F. De Witt, Bestor G. Brown, Mamie Cummings, Edith S. McCargo, Louise Merriam, and Emma R.


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