Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Buttercup gold
 The swan-song
 Longitude one hundred and...
 The tea-kettle light
 The lazy pussy
 Babie Stuart
 Gathering caoutchouc in Nicara...
 Jack and Jill
 Riding on the rail
 Snow flakes
 Chy Lung, the chinese fisherma...
 A naughty boy
 The disadvantages of city boys
 The legend of the ground-hog
 Among the lakes
 The little peasant
 Kite time
 Minnie and Winnie (music and...
 The city child (music and...
 Goats with long hair
 Baby's journey
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Matter
 Back Cover

Group Title: St. Nicholas.
Title: Saint Nicholas: Vol. 7, no. 5. March 1880.
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00084
 Material Information
Title: Saint Nicholas: Vol. 7, no. 5. March 1880.
Series Title: St. Nicholas.
Uniform Title: Saint Nicholas: Vol. 7, no. 5
Alternate Title: Saint Nicholas
Physical Description: 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Publisher: Scribner,
Publication Date: March 1880
Subject: Children's literature -- Periodicals.
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: VID00084
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
    Front Matter
        Front Matter
    Buttercup gold
        Page 361
        Page 362
    The swan-song
        Page 363
        Page 364
        Page 365
    Longitude one hundred and eighty
        Page 366
        Page 367
        Page 368
    The tea-kettle light
        Page 370
        Page 371
        Page 372
        Page 373
        Page 374
        Page 375
    The lazy pussy
        Page 369
        Page 376
    Babie Stuart
        Page 376
        Page 377
        Page 378
    Gathering caoutchouc in Nicaragua
        Page 379
        Page 380
        Page 381
        Page 382
        Page 383
        Page 384
    Jack and Jill
        Page 385
        Page 386
        Page 387
        Page 388
        Page 389
        Page 390
        Page 391
        Page 392
        Page 393
        Page 394
    Riding on the rail
        Page 395
    Snow flakes
        Page 396
    Chy Lung, the chinese fisherman
        Page 396
        Page 397
        Page 398
        Page 399
        Page 400
        Page 401
        Page 402
        Page 403
    A naughty boy
        Page 404
    The disadvantages of city boys
        Page 405
        Page 406
        Page 407
        Page 408
        Page 409
        Page 410
    The legend of the ground-hog
        Page 411
        Page 412
    Among the lakes
        Page 413
        Page 414
        Page 415
        Page 416
        Page 417
        Page 418
        Page 419
    The little peasant
        Page 420
    Kite time
        Page 421
        Page 422
        Page 423
        Page 424
        Page 425
        Page 426
        Page 427
    Minnie and Winnie (music and words)
        Page 428
        Page 429
    The city child (music and words)
        Page 430
    Goats with long hair
        Page 431
        Page 432
    Baby's journey
        Page 433
        Page 434
        Page 435
    The letter-box
        Page 436
        Page 437
        Page 438
    The riddle-box
        Page 439
        Page 440
    Back Matter
        Back Matter
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text

lA- --


(See page 420.)


MARCH, 1880.

No. 5.

[Copyright, 1880, by Scribner & Co.]



OH the cupperty-buts and oh the cupperty-
buts! out in the meadow, shining under the trees,
and sparkling over the lawn, millions and millions
of them, each one a bit of purest gold from Mother
Nature's mint. Jessy stood at the window, looking
out at them, and thinking, as she often had thought
before, that there were no flowers so beautiful.
" Cupperty-buts," she had been used to call them,
when she was a wee baby-girl, and could not speak
without tumbling over her words and mixing them
up in the queerest fashion: and now that she was a
very great girl, actually six years old, they were
still cupperty-buts to her, and would never be any-
thing else, she said. There was nothing she liked
better than to watch the lovely golden things, and
nod to them as they nodded to her; but this morn-
ing her little face looked anxious and troubled, and
she gazed at the flowers with an intent and inquiring
look, as if she had expected them to reply to her un-
spoken thoughts. What these thoughts were, I am
going to tell you.
Half-an-hour before, she had called to her
mother, who was just going out, and begged her
to come and look at the cupperty-buts.
"They are brighter than ever, mamma! Do just
come andlook at them! golden, golden, golden!
There must be fifteen thousand million dollars'
worth of gold just on the lawn, I should think."
And her mother, pausing to look out, said, very
Ah, my darling if I only had this day a little
of that gold, what a happy woman I should be "
And then the good mother went out, and there
little Jessy stood, gazing at the flowers, and repeat-
ing the words to herself, over and over again:
VOL. VII.-25.

If I only had a little of that gold! "
She knew that her mother was very, very poor,
and had to go out to work every day to earn food
and clothes for herself and her little daughter; and
the child's tender heart ached to think of the sad-
ness in the dear mother's look and tone. Suddenly,
Jessy started, and the sunshine flashed into her
Why! she exclaimed. "Why shouldn't I
get some of the gold from the cupperty-buts ? I
believe I could get some, perfectly well. When
mamma wants to get the juice out of anything,
meat, or fruit, or anything of that sort, she just
boils it. And so, if I should boil the cupperty-
buts, wouldn't all the gold come out? Of course it
would Oh, joy how pleased mamma will be "
Jessy's actions always followed her thoughts with
great rapidity. In five minutes she was out on the
lawn, with a huge bushel basket beside her, pulling
away at the buttercups with might and main. Oh!
how small they were, and how long it took even to
cover the bottom of the basket. But Jessy worked
with a will, and at the end of an hour she had
picked enough to make at least a thousand dollars,
as she calculated. That would do for one day, she
thought; and now for the, grand experiment!
Before going out she had with much labor filled
the great kettle with water, so now the water was
boiling, and she had only to put the buttercups in
and put the cover on. When this was done, she
sat as patiently as she could, trying to pay atten-
tion to her knitting, and not to look at the clock
oftener than every two minutes.
"They must boil for an hour," she said; "and
by that time all the gold will have come out."



Well, the hour did pass somehow or other,
though it was a very long one; and at eleven
o'clock, Jessy, with a mighty effort, lifted the kettle
from the stove and carried it to the open door, that
the fresh air might cool the boiling water. At
first, when she lifted the cover, such a cloud of
steam came out that she could see nothing; but in
a moment the wind blew the steam aside, and then
she saw,-oh, poor little Jessy !-she saw a mass
of weeds :i..'i.. about in a quantity of dirty
greenish water, and that was all. Not the smallest
trace of gold, even in the buttercups themselves,
was to be seen. Poor little Jessy! she tried hard
not to cry, but it was a bitter disappointment; the
tears came rolling down her cheeks faster and
faster, till at length she sat down by the kettle,
and, burying her face in her apron, sobbed as if
her heart would break.
Presently, through her sobs, she heard a kind
voice saying: "What is the matter, little one?
why do you cry so bitterly? She looked up, and
saw an old gentleman with white hair and a bright,
cheery face, standing by her. At first, Jessy could
say nothingbut Oh the cupperty-buts t oh I the
cupperty-buts! but, of course, the old gentleman
did n't know what she meant by that, so, as he
urged her to tell him about her trouble, she dried
her eyes, and told him the melancholy little story:
how her mother was very poor, and said she wished
she had some gold; and how she herself had tried
to get the gold out of the buttercups by boiling
them. "I was so sure I could get it out," she
said. And I thought Mamma would be so
pleased! And now Here she was very near
breaking down again; but the gentleman patted
her head and said, cheerfully: "Wait a bit,
little woman Don't give up the ship yet. You
know that gold is heavy, very heavy indeed, and if
there were any, it would be at the very bottom of
the kettle, all covered with the weeds, so that you
could not see it. I should not be at all surprised
if you found some, after all. Run into the house
and bring me a spoon with a long handle, and we
will fish in the kettle, and see what we can find."
Jessy's face brightened, and she ran into the
house. If any one had been standing near just at
that moment, I think it is possible that he might
have seen the old gentleman's hand go into his
pocket and out again very quickly, and might have
heard a little splash in the kettle; but nobody was
near, so, of course, I cannot say anything about it.
At any rate, when Jessy came out with the spoon,
he was standing with both hands in his pockets,
looking in the opposite direction. He took the
great iron spoon and fished about in the kettle for

some time. At last there was a little clinking
noise, and the old gentleman lifted the spoon.
Oh, wonder and delight! In it lay three great,
broad, shining pieces of gold! Jessy could hardly
believe her eyes. She stared and stared; and
when the old gentleman put the gold into her
hand, she still stood as if in a happy dream, gazing
at it. Suddenly she started, and remembered that
she had not thanked her kindly helper. She looked
up, and began: Thank you, sir; but the old
gentleman was gone.
Well, the next question was, how could Jessy
possibly wait till twelve o'clock for her mother to
come home ? Knitting was out of the question.
She could do nothing but dance and look out of
window, and look out of window and dance, hold-
ing the precious coins tight in her hand. At last,
a well-known footstep was heard outside the door,
and Mrs. Gray came in, looking very tired and
worn. She smiled, however, when she saw Jessy,
and said:
Well, my darling, I am glad to see you looking
so bright. How has the morning gone with my
little housekeeper?"
Oh, mother cried Jessy, hopping about on
one foot, "it has gone very well! oh, very, very,
very well! Oh, my mother dear, what do you
think I have got in my hand? What do you
think? oh, what do you think?" and she went
dancing round and round, till poor Mrs. Gray was
quite dizzy with watching her. At last she stopped,
and holding out her hand, opened it and showed
her mother what was in it. Mrs. Gray was really
"Jessy, my child she cried, "where did you
get all that money ? "
Out of the cupperty-buts, mamma! said
Jessy, out of the cupperty-buts and it 's all for
you, every bit of it Dear mamma, now you will
be happy, will you not ?"
"IJessy," said Mrs. Gray, "have you lost your
senses, or are you playing some trick on me?
Tell me all about this at once, dear child, and don't
talk nonsense."
But it is n't nonsense, mamma cried Jessy,
" and it did come out of the cupperty-buts "
And then she told her mother the whole story.
The tears came into Mrs. Gray's eyes, but they
were tears of joy and gratitude.
"Jessy dear," she said, "when we say our
prayers at night, let us never forget to pray for
that good gentleman. May Heaven bless him
and reward him! for if it had not been for him,
Jessy dear, I fear you never would have found the
'Buttercup Gold.' "






"The swan sings before it dies."-Old Proverb.
THE great old-fashioned clock struck twelve, but
as yet not one of the boys had stirred. All were
listening too intently to what Carl von Weber was
saying, to notice the time. The large music-room
was a very pleasant room to look at. Around lay
all kinds of instruments-pianos, harps, violins,
cornets, flutes, and violoncellos. Along the wall
were arranged shelves upon shelves of music, both
sheet and bound. Busts of Handel, Haydn,
Beethoven, and Mozart looked out at you from the
tops of music-cases, and from obscure nooks and
corners. Around one of the grand pianos a group
of boys was gathered. Perched on the top of it
was a bright, merry-looking boy of fourteen. He
was talking very fast, and brandishing the bow of
his violin in a very excited manner. By his side
sat a pale, delicate little fellow, with a pair of soft
dark eyes, which were fixed in eager attention upon
Carl's face. Below, and leaning carelessly on the
piano, was Raoul von Falkenstein, a dark, hand-
some boy of fifteen. He was a great favorite with
old Herr Bach, and his fine ear and wonderful
memory made the master entertain great hopes of
Pshaw he exclaimed, scornfully, after Carl
had finished. Is that all-just for a few paltry
thalers and a beggarly violin, to work myself to
death ? No I don't think I shall trouble myself
about it."
Oh, Raoul cried Franz, the little fellow who
sat by Carl, you forget that it is to be the most
beautiful violin in Germany, and to be given to us
by the Empress herself. And the two hundred
thalers-just think of that !" and Franz's dark eyes
grew bright to think what he could do with them.
Really," returned Raoul, insolently, you don't
mean to say thatyou are going to try Why, the
last time you played you broke down entirely "
The color mounted into Franz's face, and the tears
came into his eyes; and Carl cried out, angrily -
For shame You know very well that it was
only fright that made Franz fail. Was n't it ? he
cried, appealing to the boys who had been listen-
ing to the aforesaid conversation.
Yes, yes they cried, indignantly, for Raoul
was no favorite with them. But his highness only
shrugged his shoulders contemptuously, and saun-
tered slowly out of the room.
"Don't mind him," said Carl, putting his arm
around his friend's neck. "He is only hateful as he

always is. But come; don't sit moping there.
Let us go and see who is to be chosen for the con-
cert. Come, Franz !"
"No, Carl," said his friend, quietly; I would
rather stay here. You go and find out, and then
come and tell me."
All right! replied the lively boy; and, whist-
ling the "Watch on the Rhine" to the time of a
jig, he capered out of the room, followed by the
other boys.
The Empress once a year gave a prize to the
school, but this year it was to be finer than usual,
and her majesty had sent to Herr Bach and re-
quested him to choose five of his best boys, each
of whom was to compose a piece of his own. No
one was to see it until the end of three weeks, when
they were to play it at a grand concert, which the
imperial family were to attend with the whole
court. And now Herr Bach and his assistants
were selecting the boys that were to contend for
the prize. It was a great honor to get this prize,
and those who had formerly obtained it were always
sure to rise in the musical world. Franz was very
anxious to be chosen, for he wanted the prize very
much. He thought how pleased the mother would
be, and he thought how hard she worked to give
her little boy a musical education, and how many
comforts the thalers would buy. Oh he would
work hard for it. The dear mother would be so
surprised. And he fell into a brown study, from
which he was awakened by feeling a pair of strong
arms around him, and being frantically whirled
about the room, while a voice shouted in his ear:
We've got it! We're chosen-you, Gottfried,
Johann, old hateful Raoul, and I "
And, having delivered this excited speech, Carl
dragged Franz upstairs into his room, where they
talked as fast as their tongues could go, and got
ready for lunch.
The whole school was in a ferment, and a de-
lightful air of mystery pervaded it all. The five
boys put on very important airs, and retired at all
hours of the day to their rooms, under the excuse
of composing, leaving the other boys in various
states of curiosity and excitement. The boys
worked very hard, for there was only a short time
given them. Franz put his whole soul into his
composition, and made himself almost sick over it.
Raoul went about declaring, in his usual contemptu-
ous manner, that he did not intend to kill himself
over it, but secretly he worked with great industry.



One lovely moonlight night, as he sat by his
window composing, for the moon was so bright he
could see very well, he impatiently flung his pen
down and muttered, "There is no use; I can
never do it; this will never do !" and began angrily
to tear up one of the music-sheets, when suddenly
he stopped and raised his head and listened in-
tently. Such a lovely melody, so soft and clear,
rising and falling in the sweetest cadences, now
growing louder and louder in a wild, passionate
crescendo, and then dying slowly away !
For a moment, the boy remained silent; then,
suddenly springing to his feet, he cried:
"It is Franz I know it, for no one but he
could write anything so beautiful. But it shall be
mine, for it is the piece that will gain the prize !
Ah Franz, I play before you, and what I play
shall be "
He stopped, and the moonlight streaming in at
the window glanced across the room, and revealed
a look of half triumph, half shame on his dark,
haughty face. Why had he stopped? Perhaps

, 'I

_-: M,' -- :-:=:

~-,-- --.--84


his guardian angel stood behind him, warning him
against what he was about to do. For a moment,
a fierce struggle seemed to take possession of the
boy, between his good and evil spirits. But, alas !
the evil conquered, and, sitting down, he wrote off
what he had heard, aided by his wonderful mem-
ory; and, after an hour, he threw down the piece,

finished. Then, with an exulting smile, he cried,
" The prize is mine and, throwing himself on
the bed, he fell into a troubled sleep.
The time had come at last for the great concert,
and the boys were so excited they could hardly
keep still; even Franz, whose cheeks glowed with
a brilliant hectic flush, and whose eyes were
strangely bright. Then came the time for them
to start, and off they went to the concert-hall.
The hall was crowded. The imperial family was
there, together with the whole court, and box upon
box, tier upon tier, were filled with the fairest and
loveliest ladies and the bravest and handsomest
officers of the realm. They were in full dress, and
the uniforms of the officers and the beautiful dresses
of the ladies, the sparkling and flashing of diamonds,
and the waving and flutter of the dainty fans, made
a very brilliant scene.
SThe boys peeped out from behind the curtain,
and admired the beautiful hall, the like of which
they had never seen before.
The concert began with an overture from the
.orchestra. Then.came Fraulein the Prima Donna
of the imperial opera, and then the boys. Carl
came first, and played a brilliant, sparkling little
piece, and was loudly applauded; next Gottfried
and Johann, and then Raoul. When he stepped
out upon the platform, his handsome face and fine
form seemed to make an impression on the audi-
ence, for they remained perfectly silent. Raoul
commenced. At first, Franz paid no attention to
him, then suddenly he started. The melody flowed
on; louder and louder, clearer and clearer it rose.
Franz stood motionless, listening in strained, fixed
attention, until at last, overcome with grief and
astonishment, he sank upon the floor and cried out
piteously, with tears streaming down his face:
Oh, Raoul 1 Raoul how could you, could you
do it-my own little piece that I loved so much ?
Oh, mother mother "-and, burying his head in
his arms, he sobbed in an agony of grief.
He heard the burst of applause that greeted his
piece-not Raoul's; he heard it all, but moved
not until he heard Carl say:
"Come, Franz! It's time to go. They are all
waiting for you; but I am afraid that Raoul has
won the prize."
What should he do, he wondered ? And then he
thought perhaps the kind Father in heaven would
help him. The mother had said to trust always in
Him, and he would ask Him. So, breathing a
little prayer in his heart, he walked calmly forth
upon the platform.
At first, he trembled so, that he could hardly
begin; then a sudden inspiration seemed to come
to him-a quick light swept across his face. He
raised the violin to his shoulder, and began.




l .l*^ ; '" '.'" ,'. 1 1 .

^ i,' ..'-'

", ,
r r'

',, / ~,.


The audience at first paid no attention; but
presently all became quiet, and they leaned for-
ward in breathless attention. What a wonderful
song it was !-for it was a song. The violin seemed
almost to speak, and so softly and sweetly and with
such exquisite pathos were the notes drawn forth,
that the eyes of many were filled with tears. For
it was pouring out all little Franz's griefs and
sorrows; it was telling how the little heart was
almost broken by the treachery of the friend; it
was telling how hard he had worked to win, for the
dear mother's sake; and it was telling, and the
notes grew sweeter as it told, how the good God
had not forsaken him. The boy seemed almost
inspired; his eyes were raised to heaven, and his
face glowed with a rapt delight, as he improvised
his beautiful song. Not a sound was heard; it
seemed as if all those great lords and ladies were
turned to stone, so intense was the silence. His
heart seemed to grow lighter of its burden, and
the song burst into a wild, sweet carol, that rang
rich and clear through the hall; and then it
changed and grew so soft it could hardly be heard,
and at last it died away.
For a moment the vast audience seemed spell-
bound; then, all rising with one uncontrollable
impulse, and breaking into a tempest of applause
that rocked the building to its very foundations,
they rained down bouquets on his head.
But the boy stood with a far-off look in his large

and beautiful eyes, and then giving a little sigh,
fell heavily to the floor.
Carl and the others rushed forward and carried
the fainting boy into the anteroom. When he
returned to consciousness, he found himself sur-
rounded by a crowd of people; but, what seemed
odd to him, he did not care anything about it, and
he felt very happy to be so free from the pain that
had always troubled him. He heard a voice say
" Poor child "-it seemed like Herr Bach's; and
then he heard Carl say, in a sobbing voice, Franz !
dear Franz Why did they pity him, he won-
dered; and then it all came back to him-the
prize, the violin, and Raoul.
Where is the violin?" he murmured.
It will be here in a moment," some one said.
Then he saw the pale, remorseful face of Raoul,
who said: Dear little Franz, forgive me "
The boy raised his hand and pointed to heaven,
and said, softly: Dear Raoul, I forgive you "-
and then all the pain and bitterness in his heart
against Raoul died out.
Some one said, "Is there no hope, Herr Doc-
tor ? "
None replied a quiet voice.
Then he saw by his side a grand, stately lady.
It was the Empress, Franz knew, and the glad
thought came to him that he had now the prize at
last, and now indeed the mother would be proud
of him. The sweet face of the Empress, made





lovely by its look of tender pity, bent over him, And so, with the famed violin and the bright
and she kissed him and murmured, Poor little thalers clasped close on his breast, the life-light
one !" Then she placed the beautiful violin in his died out of his eyes, and little Franz fell asleep.
arms, and the thalers in his hands. So the wondrous swan-song was finished.



-- _- -.---- --. -

THE older readers of ST. NICHOLAS who were
interested in the account of Greenwich, and Lon-
gitude Naught, given in the number for last June,
would probably like to hear of what, with some
reason, might be termed Longitude Naughty;
because it often confuses the ideas of the passen-
gers who now cross the Pacific Ocean from Cali-
fornia to China, Japan and Australia, and also
because, in a particular instance, it robbed a de-
serving man of his birthday.
Toward the close of the year 1859, I shipped as
second mate in the barque Moonshine," of Phila-
delphia, then in San Francisco harbor, bound to
Hong Kong. She was all ready for sea when I
went on board, and we were off next morning.
We passed in sight of Honolulu on the nineteenth
day, and at the end of another week's sailing, I
had the dog-watch on deck from six to eight in the
evening. While the captain and I were conversing,
the cook and steward (the barque carried only one
man to attend to both duties) came up from the
cabin. He was a Philadelphia darky who had
sailed with the captain for two or three years in
the Atlantic trade, but this was his first voyage on
the Pacific. As he passed along the deck, the cap-
tain said:
"Doctor" (the cook always was called "doctor"
on board),-" doctor, this is Christmas Eve, and

you must remember to give the men a duff, with
plenty of raisins in it, for dinner to-morrow."--Duff
is the ship-name for pudding.
Then turning to me, he said:
"You need not set them about any rigging
work to-morrow; we will keep Christmas as well
as we can."
The cook stood looking at the captain for a
minute, then he said:
"How is dat, Captain Small? Dis is the 23d
by my alm'nack, an' I neber seed no Christmas
Ebe come on de 23d, sar. My burfday is the
24th, and many burfday ebenin's I 'se been roun'
about Eighth and Chestnut street seeing' Christmas
"You 're right, doctor," said the captain;
"this is the 23d, but to-morrow is going to be the
25th if this wind holds, and I rather think that that
fact will make this Christmas Eve."
Den whar is the 24th going' to come in, Cap-
tain Small ?" asked the doctor, in surprise.
"Well," said the captain, "nowhere, doctor.
It 's a pity, but I think you are likely to lose
your birthday. You 've been a sailor a long time,
and have n't you ever heard of the place where
you lose a day every year ?"
"Yes, sar, I hab, but I thought it was an ole
sailor yarn, but I 's sartain dis is de fust year I


neber had a burfday. But, anyways, I '11 gib de
boys their plum duff to-morrow."
The breeze continued brisk, and we passed the
meridian of i800 in the first part of the middle
watch, and "sure sartain," as our darky said, the
next day was the 25th, and our Christmas Eve
had come on the 23d.
Now, if any young readers have not studied the
subject of longitude, they will find it profitable and
interesting to do so, and find out about this thing.
Longitude is defined by imaginary lines, called
meridians, drawn lengthwise over the earth's sur-
face and meeting at its poles, thus dividing the
surface of the globe into three hundred and sixty
parts, or degrees, of longitude.
Of course, any one of these meridians might
have been taken as the point to start from in cal-
culating longitudes; but, since the English, as a
people, held the highest position in astronomy,
navigation, and chart-making, they naturally
chose to represent the first meridian as drawn
through their royal observatory at Greenwich,
and it is now generally recognized as the first me-
ridian; so that, as was stated in the article on
Longitude Naught, all longitude is practically reck-
oned east or west from Greenwich. Now, as longi-
tude is reckoned from the meridian of Greenwich,
so the hours of time may be said to begin again
at the meridian of 1800, which is exactly opposite,
on the other side of the globe.
Longitude is calculated by time, and in this way:
When a navigator wishes to know the longitude
his ship is in, he finds (by observation of the sun.
or other heavenly bodies) the true time of day at
the ship. He then compares this with the time at
Greenwich, shown by his chronometer, and thus
he gets his longitude in time, that is, in hours,
minutes, and seconds, which he turns into degrees
of longitude by multiplying by fifteen; for, as
each of the earth's 360 meridians of longitude is
rolled directly under the sun once in every twenty-
four hours, then 360 degrees of longitude must be
equal to twenty-four hours of time, or fifteen de-
grees of longitude to one hour of time.
There is no such thing as 24 o'clock, for we
reckon twelve hours before noon and twelve hours
after noon; and so, also, there-is no 36oth degree
of longitude, but 180o east and i800 west, making
together 360 degrees.
Now, the apparent noon, or twelve o'clock ap-
parent time at any given place, is the time when
the earth, by her rotary motion from west to east,
rolls the meridian of that given place directly under
the sun, and therefore the meridian of Greenwich
comes under the sun one hour sooner than the
meridian of 150 west. So, when it is twelve o'clock,
or noon, at Greenwich or any other place on the

meridian of longitude naught (for all places in the
same longitude have the same time, no matter
what their latitude may be), it will be eleven o'clock
forenoon at all places in longitude 150 west, con-
sequently, only ten o'clock forenoon in longitude
30" west, 9 o'clock forenoon longitude 450 west,
and so on, counting back one hour of time for
every fifteen degrees of longitude. Thus we find
that, when we get across the Western Hem-
isphere to longitude 1800, we are twelve hours
behind the time at Greenwich; or, when it is noon
on January Ist at Greenwich, it is midnight, or
just the commencement of January Ist, at the
longitude of 1800. But, for the same reason, by
the rotation of the earth from west to east, any
place in 150 east longitude will come under the sun
one hour before Greenwich; or, it will be one
o'clock in the afternoon at those places when it is
only noon at Greenwich, and so, counting across
the Eastern Hemisphere, one hour ahead of Green-
wich for every fifteen degrees of longitude, we
come to the longitude of 1800, twelve hours ahead
of Greenwich time.
Now, on January Ist, it is midnight, or the end
of January Ist, say, for instance, one inch on the
west side of meridian 1800. But we have just seen
that, at that very same time (that is, noon, January
ist, at Greenwich), it is only the beginning of
January ist at, say, one inch on the east side
of meridian 180o ; so that there is twenty-four
hours, or one whole day, difference in time be-
tween two persons supposed to be standing, one
immediately on the east side, the other immediately
on the west side of 18o0; and so, while it is noon
of January Ist with the one at the east, it would be
within a few minutes of noon, January 2d, with the
one at the west. Therefore, by stepping across the
meridian, the day of the week and the date would
be changed. The one who stepped from east to
west would lose a day, and the other, stepping from
west to east, would have two successive days of the
same name and date, and so would gain a day.
But we have here used the words East and West
as you use them every day, that is, as directions
according to the points of the compass, and you
must remember that if we reckon in that way at
the meridian itself, then the Western Hemisphere
lies to the East of the line, and the Easeern Hem-
isphere to the West of it. For, as your geographies
tell you, the Eastern Hemisphere extends Eastfrom
Greenwich over Europe, Asia, etc., to meridian
180o, and the Western Hemisphere reaches west
from Greenwich over the Atlantic Ocean, the
American Continents, and the Pacific Ocean, to
the same meridian. So, suppose a passenger on a
steamship from San Francisco to China goes below,
and turns in or goes to bed, at nine o'clock on




the evening of February 2ist, the ship being then
in west longitude, and, say, thirty nautical miles
this side of the meridian of 1800, and steaming at the
rate of ten miles an hour; then, at three minutes
before midnight, she will have sailed twenty-nine
and a half miles, placing her half a mile on the
east side of 1800, according to the compass, but,
of course, still in west longitude. As we have seen,
the time at Greenwich is then twelve hours ahead
of the time in the vicinity of 18o0 western hemis-
phere; therefore, as it is February 21st near mid-
night at the ship, it will be February 22d near
noon at Greenwich.
Now, suppose at this same moment a sailing
ship is lying becalmed a mile from the steamer, to
the west according to the compass, but of course
in the eastern hemisphere. The time on board that
sailing ship will be twelve hours ahead of Green-
wich, or near midnight February the twenty-second,
the whole of February the twenty-second having
passed with them; while on board the steamship,
February the twenty-second is just about to com-
mence. Now the steamship steams across the mer-
dian of 1800, and in a few minutes is alongside the
sailing ship, both being in the Eastern Hemisphere.
The steamship's time will now be the same as the
ship's (for the latter has not moved from her posi-
tion, being becalmed), and that time is the begin-
ning of February the twenty-third, so that February
the twenty-second is dropped from the calendar of
the people on the steamer. In the morning, our
passenger comes on deck, salutes the officer of the
deck, and, being a patriotic American, asks:
Do you make any celebration of Washington's
birthday at sea?"
"Yes," replies the officer; "when it occurs, we
load and fire the guns, and run the flag up."
Then I suppose you will celebrate it to-day ? "
"No, I think not," says the officer, "as Wash-
ington's birthday comes on the twenty-second, and
this happens to be the twenty-third."
"Beg pardon," says the passenger, but this
is the twenty-second."
It should have been, in the ordinary course of
events, but we crossed the line of 180o during the
night, and it is now the twenty-third," says the
Our passenger, not having thought on this sub-
ject before, concludes to keep his diary by his own
date, and, consequently, when he arrives at Yoko-
hama, he finds he has got the wrong day of the

week and the wrong date. He proceeds to Hong
Kong and finds there, also, that he is a day behind,
and, of course, he has to change his date, which he
should have done when he crossed 18o0. And should
he return to the United States by the way of the
Pacific Ocean, when he crosses I800 he must call
two successive days by the same name and date.
Therefore, it is said, we gain a day coming from
China, and lose a day going there.
If this is not sufficiently clear to any boys or
girls, let them place themselves on the west side
of a table, put a globe on the table in front of
them, and light a candle to represent the sun,
placing it east of the globe. Now, let them sup-
pose that time has not yet begun, and that they
are going to mark the very first day, which may
be called January the first, year one. We are
told in the Bible that the evening and the morning
were the first day. So if the evening was the first
half of the day, time must begin at noon.
Now, let some one place the meridian of I80 on
the globe directly opposite the candle, or sun,
having the North Pole depressed toward the North,
and with his right hand on the globe, revolve it
from him, which is the way the earth revolves. It
then will be seen that the Eastern Hemisphere
comes under the sun first, and as each meridian
rolls under the sun, all places on that meridian
will have their first noon, or noon of January the
first, year one. Likewise, when the globe has
rolled half way round, the meridian of Greenwich
will be under the sun, making it midnight where
we started from, so that a person in, say, longi-
tude 1790 59' east, will have spent half of his first
Now, as the Western Hemisphere is rolled
under the sun, giving all places there their first
noon, it will be found that when longitude 1790 59'
west comes under the sun, a person living there
will have his first noon, or noon of January the
first, year one; but it now will be seen that the
earth has only to roll two miles more of longitude,
which occupies about eight seconds of time, to bring
our first personage under the sun again, or to give
him noon for the second time, which must be Jan-
uary the second, at noon; so that two persons,
although within a mile of each other, if on different
sides of the meridian of 1800, will always have a
different date and a different day of the week.
But all this, of course, is so only at the meridian
of 1800 and nowhere else.




(A True Story.)


---' -- a New Hampshire farm-house,
about the beginning of the
S present century, there lived a
boy who, according to the
/(. custom of his Bible-loving an-
i .,' cestry, had been namedJoseph.
S Joe went to school only in the
winter, after he was ten or
i i twelve years of age; but he
had learned the ordinary Eng-
-lish branches so well, that his
Father and the neighboring
farmers thought his education
pretty nearly finished, espe-
cially as he was now seventeen
S) years old. But the boy him-
Sself was not so easily satisfied.
He delighted in gaining knowl-
edge of every sort, and he
constantly craved time and facilities for study.
Well, Joe was seventeen now, and winter was
just coming on. The district school was about to
begin, with an uncommonly well-qualified teacher,
and Joe was very anxious to go; but his father
had other plans.
Joe," said he, one evening, "'our barn must be
built larger next year, and the whole roof'll have
to be shingled new, and we must get out the shingle
this winter. We must get out enough, while we
are about it, to sell some to buy flour with. We've
got to buy for the first time since I can remember,
thanks to last summer's drought and the early
frost, which have left us neither corn nor wheat.
I'll shave the shingles, but you must split them
ready for me. You must get up the wood (that
big fire-place could consume more wood than a
moderate-sized township would nowadays). "Be-
sides, the fodder for the stock is uncommonly
short, and there 's no grain for them; so it will be
a tough job to get them through the winter alive.
Altogether, we shall have a pretty busy winter, I
Joe thought a little before he replied. He felt
the truth of all that his father had said, but he
could not reconcile himself to the idea of giving up
the winter schooling. He was not easily discour-
aged, and in a few moments he spoke up cheerfully:
"Father, I believe I can do the work and go to
school too."
Then you '11 have to command the sun and

moon to stand still six or eight hours every day,
and that's more than ever Joshua undertook."
"I could command them easy enough, but the
lazy fellows are in such a hurry to get to bed this
cold weather, that I don't suppose they would obey
me as well as they obeyed Joshua. But I 've
been thinking it over, and I believe I can do it all
without interfering with the sun and moon."
I 'd like to know how?"
Well, the timber is close by, and I can get up
the wood Saturdays, and cut it nights and morn-
ings, and help take care of the stock, too, if we
get up early."
That may all be, but when do you calculate to
split the shingles for me?"
Oh, I '11 do that after dark."
But you can't see to work in the night."
I believe I can see well enough to do that, if
mother will let me split them here by the fire-
"What!" said his mother, "and have the
house littered all over every evening, and all the
racket besides? And you 'd batter the floor all
up. No, Joe, that never will do."
But, mother, I could keep the shingle-blocks
here snug in the corner, and split them on this
flat stone, and I don't think the noise will be very
Well, you can try it, for all I care, but I don't
believe you can see well enough by fire-light. It's
precious few candles we have this year, and they
must be kept for sickness and company."
Of course he can't see to split shingles by fire-
light," said his father, "and he could n't split
enough evenings, s'posin' he could see."
I can split pretty fast, you know, father," per-
sisted Joe; and I '11 make so bright a light with
the splinters and shavings, that we wont want a
A score of other objections was brought against
Joe's project by his mother and sisters, and not a
little ridicule ; but by his promising, if he failed in
his plan, to give up school, his father reluctantly
consented, adding:
I don't see any sense in it. You are ahead
of all the school now, and what more you want,
I 'm sure I don't know. And there 's another
thing about it. If you are going to school, that
coal-pit must be 'tended to straight off, unless you
think you can do that, too, at night."




Thankful for the ground already gained, Joe
felt equal to almost any undertaking, and asked:
Can't we go about it to-morrow ? There 's a
May be we can, if it is fair weather," was the
response, and so the matter was settled.
Charcoal-pits are not now so common as they
were before railroads and furnaces used up the
wood faster than it grew, and before it was dis-
covered what treasures of coal were hid in the
Pennsylvania mountains, and under the rich soil
of the Western states. Then the great question
with many farmers was how to get rid of the
forests on their farms. Clearing timber-lands
formed the heaviest labor of many of our fore-
fathers. The trees were cut down, and the logs
best suited for lumber were drawn to a saw-mill,
which was sure not to be far away in that land of
abundant water-powers. Then, after the wood
which was desirable for home use was drawn off,
the whole tract of land was burned over. The
next step was to cut the logs, which had been
pretty well trimmed of their branches by the fire,
into sticks from four to six feet in length, and
stand them upon their ends, as closely as possible,
around a tall stick driven into the ground where the
center of the coal-pit was to be, and which had
plenty of birch-bark and other kindlings piled
about its base. Reaching outward from this mass
of kindling-wood, two sticks, a few inches apart,
were laid side by side on the ground, and upon
them was placed a slab of wood, thus forming a
narrow tunnel from the outside of the coal-pit to
its very heart. When enough logs had been stood
up for the ground tier, the remainder were piled
on them around the tall pole in the middle, hem-
lock-boughs were packed thickly about the whole,
and over all a light covering of earth was thrown.
A small opening was always left at the top, and
logs were usually laid lengthwise about the outside,
near the base of the pile, with open spaces between
them, to give the fire draft enough to insure it a
good start. The whole structure looked more like
a huge stack of earth than like a pit,"-a name
which was given it because sometimes the charcoal
was burned in a large hole or broad trench in the
ground, instead of being piled on the surface.
The next day, after the conversation about the
winter's work and schooling, Joe and his father
proceeded to build their coal-pit. It was made of
white birch trees, which, strange to say, had not
been even scorched when his father had burned off
the clearing, and showed their white trunks as clean
as ever. It usually is very dirty, disagreeable work
to build a coal-pit, for all the wood has been
charred more or less on the outside, and the soot
smirches everybody who has any thing to do with

it. But these white birches grew on a knoll in the
clearing, and the wind, shifting a little, had carried
the fire around the knoll instead of directly over it.
Birch-bark, besides being pretty, and so thin
and white on the outside that it has sometimes
been used for writing paper, contains an oil which
renders it very inflammable, and makes it excel-
lent for lighting fires. It kindles readily, and is
often used for torches by fishing parties. It can
easily be taken from the trees in large sheets, and
out of these sheets the Indians make canoes, each
light enough to be carried by one man from stream
to stream, yet sufficiently strong to withstand the
force of the wildest rapids.
While we have been talking about birch-bark,
Joe has made his coal-pit ready to set on fire. To
do this, he found a pole long enough to reach
easily from the outside of the pit to the center, and
having fastened some pieces of burning birch-bark
to one end of it, he pushed it through the covered
tunnel before described, quite to the mass of kin-
dling at the foot of the central stick. The kin-
dlings, of course, caught very readily, the bark on
the wood caught also, and the whole pile threatened
to burn to ashes very soon, instead of smouldering
slowly to charcoal, as it ought to do. Joe saw that
the openings for draft must all be shut up as soon
as possible. So, having closed the chimney-hole
at the top, he began banking up the base closely
with earth. This compelled him to work on into
the night; but, as a coal-pit must always be
watched night and day, he did not mind this. A
little hut had been made for him, containing a bed
of the flat, springy, odorous boughs of the hem-
lock, upon which were spread some blankets; and
he thought that if the weather was moderately
agreeable and the moon shone, it was not an un-
pleasant event in a boy's life to help burn a coal-
pit. After he had once got it to burning properly,
he would only have to see that as the sticks inside
burned off and settled, the earthy covering should
not become broken, and fissures be left allowing
too much draft to the fire within; also to watch
that the pit was not stopped up too tightly, so as
to put the fire out altogether. He knew how, by
proper openings at the base, to draw the fire into
any particular part of the pit where it might
not be burning sufficiently. Joe was thinking all
this over, while he was banking up his coal-pit.
He had all the sides nearly done, it was quite dark,
and the great black heap looked gloomy enough,
when suddenly Joe heard a loud puff, and instantly
it was as light as day all about him. He looked up
and saw what seemed burning smoke pouring out
of the apertures on the opposite side. These
flames streamed up over the pile with a wonderful
brightness. He examined more closely, and satis-




fied himself that there was no fire close to the sur-
face of the pit, but the air around it and over it
seemed to be on fire, as though the smoke had
burst into a blaze after it got out. Convinced that
the inside of the coal-pit was in no immediate dan-
ger, he began to marvel at and admire the brill-
iancy of the light; but he could not explain it.
He thought of the burning bush which Moses saw
all alone at Mount Horeb, and a feeling of awe
crept over him. Sometimes the flames would
almost die away, then shoot suddenly far up into
the air; or, fanned by the wind, the unearthly
blaze would leap into all manner of fantastic shapes,
so that Joe had a most wonderful exhibition of fire-
works all to himself in the dark New Hampshire
After enjoying it for some time, he continued his
work, and soon had the last side banked up. Then
the mound of wood and earth seemed disenchanted,
and behaved itself like any other sober coal-pit.
Three or four days of burning made the pile nearly
ready to "keel up." But, first, Joe had to probe
it here and there with an iron bar, to ascertain
whether it were burning evenly throughout. When
the bar struck hard wood instead of coal, he made
air-holes down through the coverings of earth, and
boughs to draw the fire to that part. Finally, when
satisfied that the wood had all become charcoal, all
the air-holes were closed, and the coal-pit was then
"keeled up",-that is, the hemlock was raked out,
so as to shake the dry earth down into the fire. This
quickly extinguished it, and the coal was now ready
to be taken out and sold to the blacksmith; which
was accomplished just in season to leave Joe at
liberty to go to school.
With the welcome days at school came the long
evenings of shingle-splitting. Joe worked dili-
gently, and kept up so bright a light with the
shavings and splinters, that the old farm-house
seemed very cheerful. But he soon discovered
that so many minutes were consumed in feeding
the fire, that, when bed-time came, he had serious
misgivings whether, in spite of all his exertions,
there were enough shingles prepared for his father
to shave the next day. On the morrow, he found
that his doubts were well founded, and the next
night it was little better, though he worked with
redoubled energy, and though his mother occa-
sionally paused in her knitting long enough to
throw a handful of splinters on the fire in front of
the enormous back log. That night, Joe's counte-
nance was rueful, and his father smiled ominously
as he glanced at the pile of shingles just before
Next day, Joe seemed to be in a brown study.
He lost several of his precious school hours in
increasing his stock of shingles. Altogether, he

felt that unless light should dawn from some new
quarter, his school must be given up. If there
were only some way to secure a light which would
cost ii.:.l!., and which would not take half his
time to attend to, he could split the shingles easily.
He wondered how the sun had shone with undi-
minished splendor for so many ages, and how the
twinkling sparks of starlight contrived not to get
lost in all the infinite space they shot through.
He thought of the fox-fire and the Jack-o'-Lan-
terns which he had often seen in the woods. Then
his mind wandered to the pillar of fire which
guided a whole nation for years through those
wonderful ancient Arabian nights. He recalled
the story of the burning bush, which burned and
was not consumed. If his splinters would only do
that! This reminded him of his own unexplained
illumination at the coal-pit, and here he paused in
his work. His brow contracted, and he studied
over some new thought as he did over the puzzles
on the last pages in the arithmetic, which he was
trying so hard to finish at school. What ever
could have caused the beautiful light he saw ? He
never had heard of such a thing before. He had
asked old men about it, but nobody could remem-
ber any similar appearance, or give any explana-
tion of this. It could not have been smoke which
burned, and it certainly could not have been steam.
It must have been something that he could burn,
if somehow he could get hold of more of it. With
his diminished school hours, and with his abstrac-
tion, he did not solve many of the arithmetical
riddles that day, and his parsing was so badly done,
that the school-master wondered what had come
over him.
On his way home from school, he had an errand
at the house of a neighbor, named Wheeler, and
in the course of a friendly chat, Mrs. Wheeler
found out about Joe's difficulty. Her ready inter-
est and sympathy drew him out, and he told her,
also, of his strange night in the woods.
What sort of wood was your coal-pit made of,
Joe? she asked.
The white birch that grew on that knoll in the
piece we cleared in October."
Then the bark was all burned off, of course."
No," Joe replied; the wind carried the fire
clean past the knoll, without so much as scorching
it. So we-had a poor burn, but we had a nice job,
cutting and piling the birches in their clean white
jackets, so we did n't much care."
"You are sure the light you saw did not come
from the inside of the pit ? "
Oh, yes, quite sure. It was dark close to the
coal-pit, but it seemed as though the steam from
the green wood caught fire after it came out. But,
of course, steam wont burn any more than water.




I wish it would. I 'd hang a tea-kettle of water on
the crane, and after it began to boil I could set the
steam on fire, and see to work nicely."
That light must have come from the burning
of something which chemists call gas," said the
sensible woman, thoughtfully.
"And it must be that the gas came from the
green birch-bark, and that the heat drove it off,
and set it on fire," exclaimed Joe, suddenly.
" Nobody else's coal-pit ever got bewitched, as

believe there is a way to do it, if I only could study
it out," declared our hero as he put on his cap.
Tramping homeward through the snow, Joe's
wrinkled brow gradually smoothed itself out, and
when he went in to supper, and saw the tea-kettle
on the crane sending forth clouds of steam, which
hissed and puffed and made the heavy iron cover
dance, he was as smiling and cheerful as ever.
His mother thought he smelled the "flap-jacks"
she was cooking. So he did, perhaps; but his


old Mr. Clark said this one was, because nobody
else ever cleared a piece of land and did n't burn
the birchbarkk"
No," said Mrs. Wheeler, reflectively;
" witches don't infest coal-pits, that ever I heard
"Now," resumed Joe, with his brow all in a
pucker, can't I get a light from birch-bark up at
the house somehow, if I try, as well as down in the
woods when I did n't try at all ? If I only could
build a little green birch coal-pit in the house "
I 'm afraid you would have more coal than
bouse if you should."
Yes, I suppose we should, and I 'd have to
split shingles for a house as well as a barn. But I

mind was so full of something else, that he was
scarcely conscious of flap-jacks.
As he was beginning his evening task, his father
said to him :
Now, Joe, that 's no kind of use. You can't
do it, and I knew it all the time. I 've had to be
busy a part of the time at something else, so far,
and to-morrow your mother wants to go up to
Uncle Gilmore's, and next day I must go to mill,
so may be you can go to school the rest of this
week and yet keep me in shingles; but then you see,
yourself, that when I get to work in earnest, as I
must next week, you '11 have to stay at home."
"Perhaps I shall," Joe replied. "I 've been
afraid of it. But I want to try one thing more




first. Mother, is that old tea-kettle up garret good
for anything?"
I 'm going to sell it one of these days for old
iron. It is n't of any use now to any one. It 's
cracked down the sides, and all ready to fall to
pieces. If you want something to put your gim-
cracks in, you 'd better make a box, and let that
smutty thing alone."
No, if you please, mother. I 'd rather have
that old cracked tea-kettle than anything else I
know of just now."
"Very well," said his mother, 'you can have it."
That night, Joe split shingles with all his speed,
and coaxed his younger brothers and sisters to keep
up the firelight for him, so that at bed-time he had
a good supply prepared for his father. Saturday
he spent in drawing loads of wood to the house.-
During these trips he secured a quantity of birch-
bark, which he put carefully away. Just before
night, he came down-stairs with his tea-kettle, and
the girls shouted that Joe was going to set up
housekeeping by himself, and that he had an old
tea-kettle to start with. Little Moses tripped after
him, and whispered:
"Are you going to make a mouse-trap of it, or
what? "
"Wait a little bit," Joe whispered back, and
we '11 see."
His mother looked curious, but said nothing,
until Joe began to stir up a batter in the pan she
had been mixing her tea-biscuit in, asking, as he
did so, how she made brown bread. This was too
much for the good woman's curiosity, and she ex-
claimed :
"Why! What in the world, Joe? There 's
plenty of rye and brown bread, of course; it 's
Saturday night!"
"Yes, I suppose there is," Joe answered, quiet-
ly; but I want brown-bread crust for a particular
The dough made. Joe came out of his mystery
enough to remark that he was going to stop the
cracks in his old tea-kettle, and then he disappeared
into the wood-shed.
Lois called after him that if he did n't grease
his tea-kettle well, it would stick."
He 's going to make a tea-kettle dumpling! "
shouted Deborah.
But Joe, out in the cold wood-shed, kept plaster-
ing dough over the cracks in the tea-kettle. This
well done, he began cutting into small pieces the
birch-bark he had saved, so that it could be crowded
closely into the tea-kettle. By the time he had
filled it, supper was called, and Joe, going in, set
his patched contrivance close by the fire.
Well, Joe," laughed his mother, "what now?
Are you going to turn blacksmith or baker?"

Joe, Joe," piped Moses, will you be a black-
smith or a bakesmith, mother says? "
O, I am a shingle-splitter," said Joe, smiling
back. "And I'd like to be a lightsmith, too,
pretty well, if I could."
After supper was cleared away, and the big
kettle was taken off the crane, Joe hung on his tea-
kettle, bread dough, birch-bark, and all, swung it
over the fire, and sat down to watch the result of
his operations.
"What is it, anyhow, Jo ?" asked Moses.
Why, don't you see? It 's an old tea-kettle."
"What you dot in it ?" piped little Judith.
Birch-bark, sis," responded Joe, laconically.
Maple-bark is best to make ink of; is n't it,
mother?" queried Debby.
Yes, indeed, Joe, and you don't have to burn
it,-only steep it, and put in a little copperas."
-" I am not trying to make ink, mother," Joe
answered, though I must make some before
Then turning to his father, he said:
You remember how the coal-pit we burned last
week got bewitched,' don't you ? Well, I think it
must have been the green birch-bark, which I don't
suppose ever before got piled into a coal-pit, that
caused the light somehow, though I don't know
how; and I am trying to see if birch-bark wont
make a light here as well as there."
Joe spoke with a deprecating tone, for he knew
his father's violent antipathy toward all new-
fangled notions."
Well, you are a dunce, to be sure. Don't you
suppose that if birch-bark had been good for any-
thing but a torch, somebody would have found it
out before this? Young folks, nowadays, think
they know more than their fathers. It was n't so
when I was a boy. You 'd better just put that tea-
kettle out of the way and go to work."
The key-note had been struck by his father, and
every voice in the household joined in making fun
of him and his cracked kettle. Joe was irritated,
of course, but was so full of his new idea that he
had n't time to get angry, and he comforted him-
self with the belief that it might be his turn to
laugh before long. Yet he knew he never would
hear the last of it if his experiment failed. He
watched it very anxiously. At last, his father im-
peratively ordered him to take his kettle away;
but he was so earnest in his pleading for time to
give his idea a fair trial that his mother interposed
out of pity, and his father consented to let him
alone, thinking he would thus be more convinced
that he was following up a crazy notion.
So Joe, thankful for the respite, kept intently
watching the flames reach up toward the queer,
patched object on the crane, baking the dough-




cement harder, and concealing it with a deposit of
soot. Soon a trace of steam issued from the spout,
and became a new center of interest to him, and a
new subject for chaffing by the merry circle of
When the steam passes off the gas will begin to
come," explained Joe, quietly. Then there was a
new cause of alarm. Jane became more and more
nervous-" fidgety," as her mother said-because
company was coming, and her brother and his old
tea-kettle would be town-talk." This nearly
stopped his proceedings, but he managed to save
his machine a little longer, Jane's young man "
still delaying his expected coming; and as the
clouds of steam began to grow less and less, with
strange earnestness, that even the thoughtless
little ones respected, Joe begged for only ten min-
utes longer, and warned Jane and her tongs away
from interfering, in a tone so quietly stern, that
she never thought of answering him, but sat down
The girls went to work on their grammar lesson,
but soon got back to the kettle. Everybody's
thoughts spun round that black, hissing object
just now. They talked a good deal about it, but
Joe did not appear to be listening. The steam
had stopped entirely, and he.was carrying a lighted
shaving with trembling hands toward the spout of
the kettle. A brilliant blaze suddenly lighted up
the house.
"Hurrah!" cried Joe. "Sell your box of candles
and buy yourself a new gown, mother. Hurrah for
school and shingles all winter Hurrah!"
"Why, Joe!" cried his mother, something
sparkling in her eyes, "why, Joe, I did n't think it
would burn so; but it does, and I 'm glad of it,
Little Moses and Judith skipped about from one
corner to another, laughing to know that some-
thing was not hid there to catch them every time
they ventured into the darkness. Joel came in
just then to Jane's great satisfaction, though, per-
haps, he did not help to a correct grammar recita-
tion on Monday. Notwithstanding his presence,
she did not seem very seriously alarmed for Joe's
reputation. Joel looked on the blazing tea-kettle
in amazement, and with some trepidation.
May be it 's bewitched!" said he to Jane.

0, I don't know what Joe 's been doing to it,
I 'm sure," said the promising girl; but I guess
it is light enough to see to play cat's cradle," and
so they tried it.
Why, Joe, you 're a genius, instead of a dunce,
I do declare!" cried Debby. This is an inven-
tion, and no mistake."
"You are all acting like a parcel of dunces,"
declared their father, preparing to go to bed.
"'Taint no great wonder that birch-bark should
burn after its got afire, if it is in an old tea-kettle.
It 'll all burn out in ten minutes."
"No, Debby, I 'm only a dunce," Joe replied;
" but you will soon see that it will burn all the
And it did. At bed-time the tea-kettle was
taken from the crane and the blaze extinguished.
The next evening it was hung on again,-this time
without opposition,-and lighted after it got hot,
no time being lost in waiting for steam to dry off.
Joe split his shingles now without delay, and
never was there a more diligent and happy fellow.
Toward the end of the week the crust burned off
the cracks in the kettle, whereupon the light be-
came more brilliant than ever, for it streamed out
from every crack as well as from the spout, and the
black, old tea-kettle was clothed in a mantle of
flickering fire. But Joe was afraid the shattered
constitution of his favorite would hardly hold to-
gether under so much excitement. So, on Satur-
day, he plastered the cracks over anew, this time
with clay, and filled it with a new stock of birch-
And thus he worked by his tea-kettle light all
The fame of Joe's invention was soon spread
abroad, and everybody wondered, for there were
not supposed to be so many new things under the
sun in those days; and when something extraordi-
nary did happen, it made a stir. Many were the
inquiries from neighbors that Joe had to answer
about his tea-kettle light, and at home, from some
slight indications, which he was quick to perceive,
he inferred that even his father and Jane were
rather proud of him, as they surely had good reason
to be.
Thus endeth the true history of the first of all
the gas factories.



x88o.] TIlE LAZY PUSSY. 369



- .~ ~ ~fl. F .

THERE lives a good-for-nothing cat,
So lazy it appears,
That chirping birds can safely come
And light upon her ears.

And rats and mice can venture out
To nibble at her toes,
Or climb around and pull her tail,
And boldly scratch her nose.
Fine servants brush her silken coat
And give her cream for tea;-
Yet she 's a good-for-nothing cat,
As all the world may see.







O THE dear, delightful sound
Of the drops that to the ground
From the eaves rejoicing run
In the February sun! '
Drip, drip, drip, they slide and slip
From the icicle's bright tip,
Till they melt the sullen snow
On the garden bed below.
"Bless me what is all this drumming?"
Cries the crocus, "I am coming!
Pray don't knock so long and loud,
For I 'm neither cross nor proud,
But a little sleepy still
With the winter's lingering chill.
Never mind 'Tis time to wake,
Through the dream at last to break!"
'Tis as quickly done as said,
Up she thrusts her golden head,
Looks about with radiant eyes
In a kind of shy surprise,
Tries to say in accents surly,
"Well! you called me very early!"

But she lights with such a smile
All the darksome place the while,
Every heart begins to stir
Joyfully at sight of her;
Every creature grows more gay
Looking in her face to-day.
She is greeted, "Welcome, dear!
Fresh smile of the hopeful year !
First bright print of Spring's light feet,
Golden crocus, welcome, Sweet!"
And she whispers, looking up
From her richly glowing cup,
At the sunny eaves so high
Overhead against the sky,
"Now I 've come, O sparkling drops,
All your clattering pattering stops,
And I 'm very glad I came,
And you 're not the least to blame
That you hammered at the snow
Till you wakened me below
With your one incessant tune.
I 'm not here a bit too soon!"



SHE was what the Scotch call a "bonnie babie."
And when I look at those great, wondering, inno-
cent eyes of hers, I cannot help saying to myself,
over and over,
SSurely she dreamed of many a fair, pure thing,
Lilies, and snow, and birdlets white of wing."

I only wish I knew more about her than I do.
But, truth to tell, historians have a provoking way
of telling every little thing about all the horrors of
a nation, the wars, and persecutions, and execu-
tions, and government jars, and things nobody
can possibly take the least interest in,-nobody
under ten, that is. It never seems to occur to the
profound gentlemen to enter the palace doors,
march boldly along till they come to the little peo-
ple's corner, and there keep a strict record of all
that is done and said.
But this much that I do know, you certainly
shall hear.

I dare say in the good old times in which the
" bonnie babie lived,-gone by this two hundred
years and more, now,-nobody ever thought of
calling her by a name half as familiar or friendly
as the Babie Stuart. For she was a royal princess
of England, Her Royal Highness, the Princess
She was born in that great old London palace
of St. James, in the year 1637, and on the seven-
teenth day of March, which, as you know, is St.
Patrick's day-in the morning.
A gentleman writing to his friend the news
about "Lunnon-town" at this time, mentions,
among other things, the birth of the queen's little
daughter. "The Irish ought to be pleased," he
says, and perhaps they would have been, had they
known what a dear little blossom it was.
Her father was that unhappy King Charles the
First. You have read about him, no doubt, in
your history books, and probably have learned to






O THE dear, delightful sound
Of the drops that to the ground
From the eaves rejoicing run
In the February sun! '
Drip, drip, drip, they slide and slip
From the icicle's bright tip,
Till they melt the sullen snow
On the garden bed below.
"Bless me what is all this drumming?"
Cries the crocus, "I am coming!
Pray don't knock so long and loud,
For I 'm neither cross nor proud,
But a little sleepy still
With the winter's lingering chill.
Never mind 'Tis time to wake,
Through the dream at last to break!"
'Tis as quickly done as said,
Up she thrusts her golden head,
Looks about with radiant eyes
In a kind of shy surprise,
Tries to say in accents surly,
"Well! you called me very early!"

But she lights with such a smile
All the darksome place the while,
Every heart begins to stir
Joyfully at sight of her;
Every creature grows more gay
Looking in her face to-day.
She is greeted, "Welcome, dear!
Fresh smile of the hopeful year !
First bright print of Spring's light feet,
Golden crocus, welcome, Sweet!"
And she whispers, looking up
From her richly glowing cup,
At the sunny eaves so high
Overhead against the sky,
"Now I 've come, O sparkling drops,
All your clattering pattering stops,
And I 'm very glad I came,
And you 're not the least to blame
That you hammered at the snow
Till you wakened me below
With your one incessant tune.
I 'm not here a bit too soon!"



SHE was what the Scotch call a "bonnie babie."
And when I look at those great, wondering, inno-
cent eyes of hers, I cannot help saying to myself,
over and over,
SSurely she dreamed of many a fair, pure thing,
Lilies, and snow, and birdlets white of wing."

I only wish I knew more about her than I do.
But, truth to tell, historians have a provoking way
of telling every little thing about all the horrors of
a nation, the wars, and persecutions, and execu-
tions, and government jars, and things nobody
can possibly take the least interest in,-nobody
under ten, that is. It never seems to occur to the
profound gentlemen to enter the palace doors,
march boldly along till they come to the little peo-
ple's corner, and there keep a strict record of all
that is done and said.
But this much that I do know, you certainly
shall hear.

I dare say in the good old times in which the
" bonnie babie lived,-gone by this two hundred
years and more, now,-nobody ever thought of
calling her by a name half as familiar or friendly
as the Babie Stuart. For she was a royal princess
of England, Her Royal Highness, the Princess
She was born in that great old London palace
of St. James, in the year 1637, and on the seven-
teenth day of March, which, as you know, is St.
Patrick's day-in the morning.
A gentleman writing to his friend the news
about "Lunnon-town" at this time, mentions,
among other things, the birth of the queen's little
daughter. "The Irish ought to be pleased," he
says, and perhaps they would have been, had they
known what a dear little blossom it was.
Her father was that unhappy King Charles the
First. You have read about him, no doubt, in
your history books, and probably have learned to




pity him very much. His life was saddened by
many a sorrow and many a care, and he was forced
to pay dearly for the doubtful pleasure of wearing
.a crown. He was not bad at heart, and he died
most royally and bravely; still, I cannot think his
-character quite as perfect as some people will paint

names, like any ordinary father. The queen, too,
Henrietta Maria, was fond of her children; and so
we can look through the palace clouds and fancy
many a happy home-scene, after all. Before the
dark days of trial and misfortune had fallen upon
the king and her, she wrote that she was the hap-


it to you. He was sometimes weak, when he
should have been strong, and he was not always
so true to his friends and his people as he should
have been.
But there is no doubt that he loved his little
sons and daughters with all the strength of his
warm, loving heart.
It is pleasant to think of him bending over them,
and calling them Sweetheart," and other pet
VOL. VII.-26.

piest woman in the world,"-happy as a queen,
wife, and mother; and there is still treasured some-
where a faded and yellow old letter, which shows
the bliss of the young mamma over her first little
boy. She is extremely proud of "my son," and
yet she winces, laughing the while, at his ugly,
small face.
He is so ugly that I am ashamed of him," she
says; "but his size and fatness atone for his want




of beauty. I wish you could see the gentleman,
for he has no ordinary mien. He is so serious
that I cannot help deeming him far wiser than
Whenever she could, she ran away from the
tiresome ceremonies and grandeur of the court, up
to the nurseries of her children. There she lulled
her babies to rest with true motherly joy and
tenderness, and sang out her happiness to these
sleepy little birdies before she laid them down in
their soft, warm nests.
Queen Henrietta Maria had a voice of wonderful
sweetness and power. It used to fill the galleries
of St. James's with melody when she sang the
lullaby songs; but, royal 'i.-..ii1. she was, the rules
of court life would not allow her to use her voice
excepting for her children's pleasure.
With all their power and distinction, queens are
not as free in some respects as the commonest
peasant within their realms, and it would have been
counted a shocking breach of the royal etiquette
had Her Majesty, the Queen of England, ventured
so to humble herself as to sing for the entertain-
ment of her Court.
She little guessed the adventures in store for

some of her nestlings, nor the bitter blasts they
were to encounter in their journey of life.
Not so with our Babie Stuart, however-quaint
little sweetheart The life of the pretty fledgling
was very short; and being so short, let us hope it
was bright with sunshine, and that it had plenty
of daisies along the way.
An old writer has told us, in curious language,
how the "little lady" was wise above her age, and
how she died in her infancy when not full four
years old.
Being minded," he says, "by those about her to
call upon God, even when the pangs of death were
upon her, 'I am not able,' saith she, 'to say my
long prayer' (meaning the Lord's Prayer), 'but I
will say my short one, Lighten my eyes, 0 Lord,
lest I sleep the sleep of death !'" This done, this
little lamb gave up the ghost."
Babie Stuart -1..i.... 1 you lived so short a time
and so far away, thousands of little ones, gazing
upon your picture to-day, will take you to their
hearts as a new playmate,-a royal, dainty little
lady of four years, who, nestled in her parents'
arms, wondered at the sights and sounds about
her, very much as they wonder to-day.








PERHAPS some of the young readers of ST.
NICHOLAS who see the many uses to which in-
dia rubber, or caoutchouc, is applied would like
to know how it is gathered and brought to the
I suppose that almost all of you know that it
comes from a tree; The india rubber tree, like
the sugar-maple, yields its product in the.form of
sap; but if it were one-fourth as laborious to gather
and prepare the sugar as it is to gather the rub-
ber, we should see very little maple sugar. For
rubber trees are not found in large numbers to-
gether, but one by one scattered thinly through a
trackless forest, such as none of you have ever seen,
unless you have been in the tropics. At first sight,
that immense jungle seems utterly impenetrable,
and, indeed, it often proves so, unless the traveler
is weaponed with a strong-bladed mnachete, which
I shall describe farther on.
The india rubber hunter generally has to work
his way into the forest a long distance for each tree
that he finds, and, after gathering the rubber, has
to carry it on his back to his camp; and as there

are no roads through the forests, the water-courses
are his routes from camp to camp.
If you will get- down your atlas and look for
Nicaragua, you will see in the south-western part
of the country a lake also called .... -,, and
from the south-eastern end of the lake a river called
the San Juan, that empties into the Caribbean Sea.
On the banks of the San Juan, and of the little
streams that flow into it, and on the borders of the
lake at points accessible by canoes, are the camp-
ing places of the india rubber hunters, sometimes a
hundred miles from anytown .1 11i A rubber-
party generally consists of three or more men, one
of whom is calledfpatron, which means the same as
the English word foreman. Those of the hunters
who speak English call him, by the every-day title
of boss. The canoe is big enough to carry from
fifteen to twenty men.
We will suppose ourselves at Greytown (also
called San Juan del Norte), at the mouth of the
San Juan River, and will walk down to the water-
side, and look at some of the parties of rubber-
hunters who are just leaving.



A short distance down the street, we suddenly
come upon a group speaking Spanish, and gestic-
ulating in an excited manner. Two of the party
seem to be

nb r i i- th., : i' '[,-
p ,- *ii [,:, I..,,- t: i .c ,; .i :,.' i.,."

tp ,'.' ,, : [t i ,* : _, .
for. -C I I ,

t .. ,'} l .I,r ; i I, I t L-
1A ,- ,11 .-.:, i l .,:,l .,r
Vi, a., t +t i ,

v. h .l -i r l:,l : ,!--ilr. i -.: .:,,i F' ,r I Ti i1 h
.q : i -i t I t d 1 -1 ., I -,,,l i 'i.:,If l!,,: i. i, t,. -. J .', I t !,. -; -ii,,
then a bag of beans; a bag of rice; a large lump
of chocolate; a very large bunch of plantains; a
coarse native cheese; some very dirty-looking
brown sugar; a tin can of lard; a quantity of the
peculiar beef of that country, dried in strips and
sold by the yard. Each man has a blanket and a
small pillow, and one or two pairs of leather san-
dals. A few cooking utensils, some cups made of
the shells of a curious gourd that grows in Nicara-
gua, two shot-guns, several large, shallow, tin pans
and the machete, constitute the remainder of the
I don't know whether I should better describe
the machete as a huge butcher-knife or as a
short heavy sword. It has a blade about two and
a half feet long, very wide and heavy toward the
point, the hilt usually made of horn and so shaped
as to give the hand a good grip upon it. It is the
inseparable companion of every Central American
in the field or forest, or upon the road, and it
really takes the place of many tools and imple-
ments that we should think almost indispensable.
It is axe, hatchet, hammer, saw, hoe, rake, and
scythe, and even spade and shovel; and if occa-

sion requires, it is a formidable weapon. I have
often wondered that it was not brought into use in
our own country, particularly as nearly all the
machetes that are found in Central America are
. ,.,. .- ; h I _,- T T i;t .-..I 1 ,i f : .

V,'i0,. ,l : !.>1:.l;, .-.:i? L :i-,. ~ ,-r,,.. rh,.- ,.,
hi, i. ,_ h: ,:,., I !,,i


id I I
_: '11!: 1', f ., !. [ "i .- .:[ it 1 'l-h

T p ii-Jt ill, L-ie
I l Ii. U D ti l ,_ ll

S" l I rl i tl e

while the policemen, and indeed most of the
other men and women in the canoe and on the
wharf, are also conversing excitedly, the only
silent one being the patron, who quietly ar-
ranges seats to his taste, and then gives the word
to shove off the canoe. Now comes a general
exchange of hand-shaking and good-byes be-
tween the crew and the men and women on
shore; and we are surprised to see that the leave-
taking between the policemen and their late cap-
tives is quite as cordial as that between any of the
others. The party are soon off; each man dips
his large cedar paddle into the water, and the canoe
darts out into the stream, the volley of good-
byes" continuing until she disappears into the tall
grass that borders the channel leading up the river.
We now turn to our new acquaintance, the
American merchant, and walk with him to his
store. He tells us that the canoe which has just
started is his property, and that the men are in his
employ,-that they are "matriculated" to his house.
That long word, as you possibly know, is, in this
country, associated with entering college, and many



a i,.i [I,, ,' .i :1 : I,:,, M,- I .2',. ,, ._r ,,. !j ,, .:r-
t ,., i ,:i .-. -,,Co,: I.,,- r ,: i., ,,,d !,- i,:r,i



of you boys and girls are getting ready for that now;
but we find that in Nicaragua it means bound to
service for a certain time, or until a certain indebt-
edness is worked out. The merchant informs us
that the party came in from the woods three weeks
ago with a good lot of rubber, that they have spent
all their money, and have gone in debt quite as
much as they will be able to repay with the pro-
ceeds of this trip. So he has furnished them a
new outfit, the value of which is also charged to
them. The boat has been ready for three days,
each day the crew promising him faithfully that
they would start the next, and each time failing to
keep their promise; and .t l.ir I_ I, ,: I r ...
send the police after two of r i.i .- :.:!. I iib.
to go. Once fairly off, ti... _-: ... .: ..
difficulty in controlling tt:-. i.'. .i.,, 1.11 1 rl.,
have no money left.
Many of the merchant ii :il. 1i i.., t .. i. ,
regular business to keep r ,i.i..:r-i, i -I : i -
work, it being a singular !..i: r .,I t. ::lI .I...,
rarely work in their ow y it'..::i, iur I....r
invariably in the employ ori ..l i.. Ti. ii. .-
a great many sailors who .....I; I-ii -i,..l -,..lin, .
all sorts of privations to : l ii .,..
then, when paid off, spend a ill i .
carousing and gam-
bling. As it costs a
large sum for canoe,
provisions, &c., and
as few of them ever -
save a cent of their- .-
money, they would be .""'
unable to go back into ,
the woods if the mer-
chants did not fit -
them out for the pur- -'-
pose. Indeed, after
spending all they have '.
made, they generally
go in debt to their .''
employer, until he re-
fuses them another
penny, and they are U''
thus forced to start on
the new trip. ,?,' .

As we enter the
store, the merchant
shows us some of the
rubber which has been
brought in. Part of
it, we observe, is in

bundles made of ragged-looking strips of rub-
ber; this is what flows down and solidifies on
the bark of the trees, and is called barucia. He
tells us that the bargain with the men is that
all the tortillas they bring go to pay their indebt-
edness to the house, and should there be more
than enough for that, they are paid in money for
the surplus; but for the barucha they are paid in
money, however much they may be in debt, and
whether they have enough tortillas to pay all or

1-,I :~~' 't

large, round, flat
cakes; these he tells THE RUBBER-HUNTER MEETS AN ENEMY.
us are called tortillas (the Spanish for cakes), not. This arrangement is necessary, because it
and are the portions caught in the pans which very often happens that they do not get enough
we saw in the canoe. He next shows us some tortillas to pay off all they owe, and if they had no




hope of receiving money, they would sell their
rubber to some small trader along the river, and
run away, rather than return without money or a
claim for it. Indeed, they often do sell a portion of
their tortillas, and pretend not to have been as fort-
unate as they really have been. The small traders
regard it as quite a piece of proper business enter-
prise when they can induce somebody else's. men
to sell them part of their "find," though I have


~-- ^ ^


observed that the most of them thought it a piece
of shameful rascality when any one else practised
the same thing upon them.
Having seen the rubber-hunters start upon their
trip, we will now follow them to their camp; but
as there is a comfortable stern-wheel steam-boat, of
the American river type, that will carry us up the
San Juan, we will take passage in her, say, to the
mouth of the Poco Sol, where our particular party
are going to hunt. This river empties into the San
Juan from the Costa Rica side, about twenty miles
from the head of the San Juan. When we reach
the Poco Sol, we shall have to take a canoe, as the
steamer cannot carry us as far up as we shall prob-
ably have to go to overtake our party.
After several hours' paddling, we come to the
sought-for camp, though none of you will suppose
it to be one when you first see it, so little does the
hut look like anything you can imagine as a home
for a number of men during a whole fortnight at a
time. There is a sort of thatched roof, supported
by four forked stakes driven into the ground; the
thatch consists of the branches or fronds of palms
and of wild plantains. The sides of the hut are
all open, and there is not a sign of a bed. The
rubber-hunters, as a rule, roll themselves up in
their blankets, head and all, and sleep on the
ground. As the nights are almost always quite
chilly, the blankets are very necessary, and serve
not only to keep the men warm, but also to protect
them from mosquitoes. Sometimes, particularly in
the rainy season, a bed is made by driving four
short, forked stakes in the ground, laying short
sticks across the head and foot, and, lengthwise
upon these, poles side by side, until they form a
very rough spring bottom, such as you would think
very uncomfortable, particularly as there is noth-
ing to take the place of a mattress. For cooking,
they simply build a fire on the ground, sometimes
setting three stones so as to support their kettle.
Their beans, rice, dried beef, and any game or fish

they can obtain, are boiled, and the plantains,
while they last, are roasted in the ashes. These
operations, with making chocolate, or coffee if they
have it, and something which serves as bread with
the flour, constitute their entire cooking. I am
afraid it would take you a good while to learn to
eat any of their messes, especially if you saw them
prepared. The woods supply plenty of game,
some of it very good, indeed. Wild hogs, tapirs,
deer, armadillos, iguanas, squirrels, wild turkeys,
ducks, pigeons, wood-hens, and numerous other
animals and birds abound. The rivers contain
many varieties of fish, and occasionally a manatee*
is caught, when the natives think they have a great
prize. So you see that the rubber-hunters are
in no danger of starvation while in the woods,
though some of you boys would think their old-
fashioned shot-guns very poor things to hunt with.
On our arrival, we find one of the men just set-
ting out for a tree that he knows the location of,
having found it on a former trip.; and those of you
who don't mind scrambling through the thicket for
three or four miles, can go with him. He will
not mind showing it to us, as he knows we have
come for curiosity only. He wears only a pair
of stout, coarse-linen trousers, and even these he
rolls up above his knees. On his feet he has
sandals, and a cotton handkerchief is tied around
his head. His mazcete in one hand and, prob-
ably, a staff in the other, complete his prepara-
We, in order to be comfortable, must be dressed
in strong but light clothing, stout shoes, with can-
vas leggings, and we shall be wise to each wear a
soft hat that we can pull well down over our ears.
It will be well for each of us to carry a staff and a
iachete, too. We can cut the former as we go.
We must also be very careful not to touch with our
hands any tree, branch, vine, or plant, as we may
grasp some stinging insect, or thorns which may
not only be very sharp, but poisonous as well. I
remember once, to keep from falling, seizing a
bush called chichicaste, which filled my hand with
minute thorns, each producing a sensation like the
sting of a wasp. The severe pain lasted for about
a quarter of an hour, but it was weeks before the
thorns ceased to annoy me, being so small that I
could not extract them. We may see on our way
some wild animals and some very beautiful birds.
Monkeys are in great abundance. One kind,
called howling monkeys, make a noise which
sounds more like the roar of a lion or tiger than
anything else, and is quite startling the first time
you hear it, though the monkeys themselves are
harmless enough. Parrots, macaws, paroquets,
toucans, and many other birds, are to be seen
almost any day. There are also pumas (called the

* See illustrated article "The Manatee," ST. NICHOLAS. February, 187.




American or maneless lion), ounces, and two or
three varieties of tiger-cats; but all these are afraid
of men, and generally keep well out of sight. We
may come upon a band of wild hogs, which, if in
any considerable number, will hardly deign to get
out of our way; but instead of grunting like the
domestic hog, will express their dissatisfaction by
champing their jaws together.
We will let the hunter take the lead, as he has
a keen eye for snakes. We shall find numberless
insects, any amount of briers and thorns, and
altogether it will be anything but a pleasant walk.
We shall not have gone far without realizing
that the journey is a very difficult one, and without
opening our eyes with amazement at the wonderful
forest. There are multitudes of different kinds of
trees growing close together, and some of them
are enormously large, so large that in this country
each one would be an object of curiosity. The
rest of the trees range from these huge fellows
down to the merest shoots, and from them hang
perfect net-works of clinging vines of all sizes,
from that of a kite-string to that of a good-sized
cable. I have seen the vines from fifty to a hun-
dred feet long, no larger than one of your fingers,
but so tough and flexible that they are used by the
natives for all purposes for which we would use
ropes, cords, or string. They also are used for sev-
eral other purposes, house-building, for instance,
being one of them, though you might think it
a stretch of the imagination to call their structure
a house. But it is, at least, a habitation, and in
the building of it there is not a single nail used,
-the side, the ridge-poles and the rafters being
tied in place with vines, and the thatch tied on to
them with the same. The natives declare that the
vines will last and be as good as ever after a nail,
in their damp climate, would have rusted away.
Whether that be true or not, it is well that they
think so, for vines are to be had for the gathering,
while nails are very expensive. Worse, if any-
thing, than the vines in the forests, is the under-
growth, consisting of canes, bushes, weeds, sev-
eral varieties of cactus and other thorn-bearing
plants, Spanish bayonet and numerous plants very
much like it. Some of them are very valuable
for their fibers, but all are very difficult to travel
through, being interlaced and matted together.
You can readily believe it is no small labor to
work your way'along, to say nothing of the snakes,
scorpions, tarantulas, and other disagreeable things
that you may meet.
You would imagine that few men would be will-
ing to undertake quite such severe work, but so
large are the returns in money when a man is
ordinarily successful, that plenty are ready to go,
and indeed large numbers make it their only occu-

pation, going into the woods, and remaining one,
two, and even three months at a time, according
to the luck they have.
All this we find out on our way through the
tangle, following as closely as possible at the heels
of our rubber-hunter. We are very hot and tired
by the time we reach the tree, but we will sit down
on anything we can find,-a stump or log,-while
Juan, our hunter friend, proceeds to tap his tree,
which, by the way, is the kind known to botanists
as the castTlloa-elastica.
Juan makes with the machete, low down upon
the trunk of the tree, two deep scores, inclining
downward, and coming together at a very obtuse
angle, just below which he secures a little gutter
made of a piece of split cane. He now makes,
higher up, other scores, all leading into the first
two. Taking hold of some of the pendent vines,
he manages to climb twenty or thirty feet high,
scoring and mutilating the tree most fearfully.
We conclude that with such treatment as this
the tree will not last many seasons; judiciously
tapped, it would yield twice a year for many years,
but in order to get-a little more each time, these
improvident people cut the bark up so badly, that
in a few seasons the tree is ruined.
The sap, or milk, begins to ooze out at once, and
runs down into the pan placed to receive it, though
we observe Juan is likely to obtain considerable
barucha from the manner in which he has arranged
his scores, and particularly from the height to
which he has extended them. The appearance of
the sap is like that of thick cream, and, if left to
itself, it would be days before it became solid; but
Juan soon finds a vine called alc/uca, and sap of
this vine he mingles with the milk; this has the
effect of coagulating it, or making it solid, in a
short time, so that in the course of a day it will be
ready to be removed, though it will be some time
longer before the baruc/a is hard enough to be
stripped from the tree. Slowly the rubber, by
exposure to the air, turns black, as you generally
see it.
Each day the hunters look in all directions for
new trees, sometimes succeeding and sometimes
not. When they are satisfied that they have
gathered all there is to be found within four or five
miles of their camp, they seek a new camping-
ground higher up the stream, and continue the
same course until they have collected several hun-
dred pounds apiece. If they are very fortunate, they
may not be more than a month on the trip, which,
however, often has to be extended to two or even
three months. And during that time, the hunters
see no one but themselves and, possibly, an occa-
sional party of other hunters going to or coming
from their work. And they have no amusements




except smoking and, perhaps, card-playing among
When they have collected a sufficient quantity,
or when their provisions give out, part of the rub-
ber is loaded into the canoe, and part tied by vines
and towed after it. With the current of the river
in their favor, the journey is made in good time,

foot-balls; the girls' dolls; the baby's rattle, and
a score of miscellaneous toys; rubber boots, and
overshoes; water-proof cloaks, coats, leggins; ink
and pencil erasers, ink-stands, paper-knives, and
elastic bands for the desk; combs; hat and um-
brella covers: garden hose, gas-tubing for the
drop-light, and so on. But these are only a few

',. ll:,: i I l l. l r : r'l l:l l l. l | d I' 'i a '1'd 1. t. i
r,.d ~b :t ,] ]'l'b = l- L' :, I, ,,.It:.-I r! ,- ,1. .t [ H


and without much labor, the-party stopping occa-
sionally to cook their meals, and tying up at night
at any wood station or hut they may come to.
Arrived at Greytown, their cargo is soon landed,
their accounts settled with their employer, and
a new season of carousing begins, which will soon
rob them of all they have made. Meantime, the
india rubber is being shipped off to the United
States or to Europe, to be put to uses of which
the men who gather it have no conception, and to
be so changed into various forms, that they would
never recognize it as the same material.
Let any city boy or girl try to name all the
things, made of india rubber, that he or she can
recall, and the list will quickly lengthen out to a
surprising number. There are the boy's balls and

branches of trade or manufacture in which india
rubber is not employed in some form. There are
rubber ammunition-bags, haversacks, gun-covers,
bandages, and blankets; belting for machinery;
rubber springs for cars ; sheet-rubber for packing,
and for use, also, in valves, pumps, etc. ; piano-
covers; matting for floors; rubber beds and bath-
tubs; cushions and pillows; rubber trousers, stock-
ings, and jackets for sportsmen; rubber gloves;
and even a rubber gymnasium and health-lift.
And so, we see that while the thousands of busy
people in New York or London, who use india
rubber every day, never think of it as the tortillas
or barucha of the lonely worker in the jungle,
yet our Nicaraguan Juan, as he cuts his toil-
some way to and from his rubber tree, a hundred
miles from the smallest town, is doing a part in the
great world's work, of which he, also, little dreams.






THE good times began immediately, and very
little studying was done that week li, l111h. of the
virtuous resolutions made by certain young persons
on Christmas-day. But, dear me, how was it pos-
sible to settle down to lessons in the delightful Bird-
room, with not only its own charms to distract one,
but all the new gifts to enjoy, and a dozen calls a
day to occupy one's time?
I guess we 'd better wait till the others are at
school, and just go in for fun this week," said Jack,
who was in great spirits at the prospect of getting
up, for the splints were off, and he hoped to be
promoted to crutches very soon.
"Ishall keep my 'speller' by me and take a look
at it every day, for that is what I 'm most backward
in. But I intend to devote myself to you, Jack,
and be real kind and useful. I 've made a plan to
do it, and I mean to carry it out, any way," an-
swered Jill, who had begun to be a missionary, and
felt that this was a field of labor where she could
distinguish herself.
Here 's a home mission all ready for you, and
you can be paying your debts beside doing your-
self good," Mrs. Pecq said to her in private, having
found plenty to do herself.
Now Jill made one great mistake at the outset,-
she forgot that she was the one to be converted to
good manners and gentleness, and devoted her
efforts to looking after Jack, finding it much easier
to cure other people's faults than her own. Jack
was a most engaging heathen and needed very
little instruction; therefore, Jill thought her task
would be an easy one. But three or four weeks of
petting and play had rather demoralized both chil-
dren, so Jill's "speller," though tucked under the
sofa pillow every day, was seldom looked at, and
Jack shirked his Latin shamefully. Both read all
the story-books they could get, held daily levees in
the Bird-room, and all their spare minutes were
spent in teaching Snowdrop, the great Angora cat,
to bring the ball when they dropped it in their
game. So Saturday came, and both were rather
the worse for so much idleness, since daily duties
and studies are the wholesome bread which feed
the mind better than the dyspeptic plum-cake of
sensational reading, or the unsubstantial bon-bons
of frivolous amusement.
It was a stormy day, so they had few callers, and

devoted themselves to arranging the album, for
these books were all the rage just then, and boys
met to compare, discuss, buy, sell and "swap"
stamps with as much interest as men on 'Change
gamble in stocks. Jack had a nice little collection,
and had been saving up pocket-money to buy a
book in which to preserve his treasures. Now,
thanks to Jill's timely -.-.i:i.:,, Frank had given
him a fine one, and several friends had contributed
a number of rare stamps to grace the large, inviting
pages. Jill wielded the gum-brush and fitted on
the little flaps, as her fingers were skillful at this
nice work, and Jack put each stamp in its proper
place with great rustling of leaves and comparing
of marks. Returning, after a brief absence, Mrs.
Minot beheld the countenances of the workers
adorned with gay stamps, giving them a very curi-
ous appearance.
My dears what new play have you got now?
Are you wild Indians? or letters that have gone
round the world before finding the right address?"
she asked, laughing at the ridiculous sight, for both
were as sober as judges and deeply absorbed in
some doubtful specimen.
Oh, we just stuck them there to keep them
safe; they get lost if we leave them lying 'round.
It's very handy, for I can see in a minute what I
want on Jill's face and she on mine, and put our
fingers on the right chap at once," answered Jack,
adding, with an anxious gaze at his friend's varie-
gated countenance: "Where the dickens is my
New Granada? It 's rare, and I would n't lose it
for a dollar."
"Why, there it is on your own nose. Don't
you remember you put it there because you said
mine was not big enough to hold it ?" laughed Jill,
tweaking a large orange square off the round nose
of her neighbor, causing it to wrinkle up in a droll
way, as the gum made the operation slightly
So I did, and gave you Little Bolivar on yours.
Now I '11 have Alsace and Lorraine, 1870. There
are seven of them, so hold still and see how you
like it," returned Jack, picking the large, pale
stamps one by one from Jill's forehead, which they
crossed like a band.
She bore it without flinching, saying to herself
with a secret smile, as she glanced at the hot fire,
which scorched her if she kept near enough to Jack
to help him, This really is being like a mission-
ary, with a tattooed savage to look after. I have

* Copyright, 1879, by Louisa M. Alcott. All rights reserved.



to suffer a little, as the good folks did who got
speared and roasted sometimes, but I wont com-
plain a bit, though my forehead smarts, my arms
are tired, and one cheek is as red as fire."
The Roman States make a handsome page,
don't they ?" asked Jack, little dreaming of the part
he was playing in Jill's mind.. Oh, I say, is n't
Corea a beauty ? I 'm ever so proud of that," and
he gazed fondly on a big blue stamp, the sole orna-
ment of one page.
"I don't see why the Cape of Good Hope has
pyramids. They ought to go in Egypt. The Sand-
wich Islands are all right, with heads of the black
kings and queens on them," said Jill, feeling that
they were very appropriate to her private play.
"Turkey has crescents, Australia swans, and
Spain women's heads, with black bars across them.
Frank says it is because they keep women shut up
so ; but that was only his fun. I 'd rather have a
good, honest green United States, with Washington
on it, or a blue one-center with old Franklin, than
all their eagles and lions and kings and queens put
together," added the democratic boy, with a disre-
spectful slap on a crowned head as he settled
Heliogoland in its place.
Why does Austria have Mercury on the stamp,
I wonder? Do they wear helmets like that?"
asked Jill, with the brush handle in her mouth as
she cut a fresh batch of flaps.
May be, he was postman to the gods, so he
is put on stamps now. The Prussians wear hel-
mets, but they have spikes like the old Roman fel-
lows. I like Prussians ever so much; they fight
splendidly, and always beat. Austrians have a
handsome uniform, though."
Talking of Romans reminds me that I have
not heard your Latin for two days. Come, lazy-
bones, brace up, and let us have it now. I 've
done my compo., and shall have just time before I
go out for a tramp with Gus," said Frank, putting
by a neat page to dry, for he studied every day
like a conscientious lad as he was.
"Don't know it. Not going to try till next
week. Grind away over your old Greek as much
as you like, but don't bother me," answered Jack,
frowning at the mere thought of the detested
But Frank adored his Xenophon, and would not
see his old friend, Casar, neglected without an
effort to defend him; so he confiscated the gum-
pot, and effectually stopped the stamp business by
whisking away at one fell swoop all that lay on
Jill's table.
Now then, young man, you will quit this sort
of nonsense and do your lesson, or you wont see
these fellows again in a hurry. You asked me to
hear you, and I 'm going to do it; here's the book."

Frank's tone was the dictatorial one, which Jack
hated and always found hard to obey, especially
when he knew he ought to do it. Usually, when
his patience was tried, he strode about the room,
or ran off for a race round the garden, coming back
breathless, but good-tempered. Now both these
vents for irritation were denied him, and he had
fallen into the way of throwing things about in a
pet. He longed to send Caesar to perpetual ban-
ishment in the fire blazing close by, but resisted'
the temptation, and answered honestly, though
gruffly: I know I did, but I don't see any use in
pouncing on a fellow when he is n't ready. I
have n't got my lesson, and don't mean to worry
about it; so you may just give me back my things
and go about your business."
"I '11 give you back a stamp for every perfect
lesson you get, and you wont see them on any
other terms ;" and thrusting the treasures into his
pocket, Frank caught up his rubber boots, and
went off swinging them like a pair of clubs, feeling
that he would give a trifle to be able to use them
on his lazy brother.
At this high-handed proceeding, and the threat
which accompanied it, Jack's patience gave out,
and catching up Caesar, as he thought, sent him
flying after the retreating tyrant with the defiant
Keep them, then, and your old book, too!
I wont look at it till you give all my stamps back
and say you are sorry. So now "
It was all over before Mamma could interfere, or
Jill do more than clutch and cling to the gum-
brush. Frank vanished unharmed, but the poor
book dashed against the wall to fall half open on
the floor, its gay cover loosened, and its smooth
leaves crushed by the blow.
It 's the album! Oh, Jack, how could you ?"
cried Jill, dismayed at sight of.the precious book so
maltreated by the owner.
Thought it was the other. Guess it is n't hurt
much. Didn't mean to hit him, any way. He does
provoke me so," muttered Jack, very red and
shame-faced as his mother picked up the book and
laid it silently on the table before him. He did
not know what to do with himself, and was thank-
ful for the stamps still left him, finding great relief
in making faces as he plucked them one by one
from his mortified countenance. Jill looked on,
half glad half sorry that her savage showed such
signs of unconverted ferocity, and Mrs. Minot went
on writing letters, wearing the grave look her sons
found harder to bear than another person's scold-
ing. No one spoke for a moment, and the silence
was becoming awkward when Gus appeared in a
rubber suit, bringing a book to Jack from Laura
and a note to Jill from Lotty.




"Look here, you just trundle me into my den,
please. I 'm going to have a nap, it's so dull to-
day I don't feel like doing much," said Jack, when
Gus had done his errands, trying to look as if he
knew nothing about the fracas.
Jack folded his arms and departed like a warrior
borne from the battle-field, to be chaffed unmerci-
fully for a pepper-pot," while Gus made him com-
fortable in his own room.
I heard once of a boy who threw a fork at his
brother and put his eye out. But he did n't mean
to, and the brother forgave him, and he never did
so any more," observed Jill, in a pensive tone,
wishing to show that she felt all the dangers of im-
patience, but was sorry for the culprit.
"Did the boy ever forgive himself?" asked Mrs.
No, 'm; I suppose not. But Jack did 'nt hit
Frank, and feels real sorry, I know."
He might have, and hurt him very much. Our
actions are in our own hands, but the consequences
of them are not. Remember that, my dear, and
think twice before you do anything."
Yes, 'm, I will," and Jill composed herself to
consider what missionaries usually did when the
natives hurled tomahawks and boomerangs at one
another, and defied the rulers of the land.
Mrs. Minot wrote one page of a new letter, then
stopped, pushed her papers about, thought a little,
and finally got up, saying, as if she found it impos-
sible to resist the yearning of her heart for the
naughty boy:
I am going to see if Jack is covered up, he is
so helpless, and liable to take cold. Don't stir till
I come back."
"No, 'm, I wont."
Away went the tender parent to find her son
studying Caesar for dear life, and all the more
amiable for the little gust which had blown away
the temporary irritability. The brothers were
often called "Thunder and Lightning," because
Frank lowered and growled and was a good while
clearing up, while Jack's temper came and went
like a flash, and the air was all the clearer for the
escape of dangerous electricity. Of course Mamma
had to stop and deliver a little lecture, illustrated
by sad tales of petulant boys, and punctuated with
kisses which took off the edge of these afflicting
Jill meantime meditated morally on the superi-
ority of her own good temper over the hasty one
of her dear playmate, and just when she was feeling
unusually uplifted and secure, alas like so many
of us, she fell, in the most deplorable manner.
Glancing about the room for something to do.
she saw a sheet of paper lying exactly out of reach,
where it had fluttered from the table unperceived.

At first her eye rested on it as carelessly as it did
on the stray stamp Frank had dropped; then, as
if one thing suggested the other, she took it into
her head that the paper was Frank's composition,
or better still, a note to Annette, for the two cor-
responded when absence or weather prevented the
daily meeting at school.
"Would n't it be fun to keep it till he gives
back Jack's stamps ? It would plague him so if it
was a note, and I do believe it is, for compo's
don't begin with two words on one side. I '11 get
it, and Jack and I will plan some way to pay him
off, cross thing !"
Forgetting her promise not to stir, also how dis-
honorable it was to read other people's letters, Jill
caught up the long-handled hook, often in use
now, and tried to pull the paper nearer. It would
not come at once, for a seam in the carpet held it,
and Jill feared to tear or crumple it if she was not
very careful. The hook was rather heavy and long
for her to manage, and Jack usually did the fishing,
so she was not very skillful, and just as she was
giving a particularly quick jerk she lost her bal-
ance, fell off the sofa, and dropped the pole with a
Oh, my back was all she could think or say
as she felt the jar all through herlittle body, and a
corresponding fear in her guilty little mind that
some one would come and find out the double mis-
chief she had been at. For a moment she lay
quite still to recover from the shock, then as the
pain passed she began to wonder how she should get
back, and looked about her to see if she could do it
alone. She thought she could, as the sofa was
near and she had improved so much that she could
sit up a little if the doctor would have let her. She
was : -i i..: !i;, herself together for the effort, when,
within arm's reach now, she saw the tempting paper,
and seized it with glee, for in spite of her predica-
ment she did want to tease Frank. A glance
showed that it was not the composition nor a note,
but the beginning of a letter from Mrs. Minot to
her sister, and Jill was about to lay it down when
her own name caught her eye, and she could not
resist reading it. Hard words to write of one so
young, doubly hard to read, and impossible to

"DEAR LIzzmE: Jack continues to do very well, and will soon be
up again. But we begin to fear that the little girl is permanently
injured in the back. She is here, and we do our best for her; but I
never look at her without thinking of Lucinda Snow, who, you re-
member, was bed-ridden for twenty years, owing to a fall at fifteen.
Poor little Janey does not know yet, and I hope -

There it ended, and "poor little Janey's pun-
ishment for disobedience began that instant. She
thought she was getting well because she did not
suffer all the time, and every one spoke cheerfully




about "by and by." Now she knew the truth,
and shut her eyes with a shiver as she said, low, to
"Twenty years! I could n't bear it; oh, I
could n't bear it! "
A very miserable Jill lay on the floor, and for a
while did not care who came and found her; then
the last words of the letter-" I hope"-seemed to
shine across the blackness of the dreadful "twenty
years" and cheer her up a bit, for despair never
lives long in young hearts, and Jill was a brave
That is why Mammy sighs so when she dresses
me, and every one is so good to me. Perhaps

I 've told a lie, for I said I would n't stir. I've
hurt my back, I 've done a mean thing, and I 've
got paid for it. A nice missionary I am; I 'd
better begin at home, as Mammy told me to," and
Jill groaned again, remembering her mother's
words. Now I 've got another secret to keep all
alone, for I 'd be ashamed to tell the girls. I guess
I 'II turn round and study my spelling; then no
one will see my face."
Jill looked the picture of a good, industrious
child as she lay with her back to the large table,
her book held so that nothing was to be seen but
one cheek and a pair of lips moving busily. Fort-
unately, it is difficult for little sinners to act a


Mrs. Minot does n't really know, after all. She was
dreadfully scared about Jack, and he is getting
well. I 'd like to ask Doctor, but he might find out
about the letter. Oh, dear, why did n't I keep
still and let the horrid thing alone !"
As she thought that, Jill pushed the paper
away, pulled herself up, and with much painful
effort managed to get back to her sofa, where
she laid herself down with a groan, feeling as if
the twenty years had already passed over her
since she tumbled off.

part, and, even if the face is hidden, something in
the body seems to betray the internal remorse and
shame. Usually, Jill lay flat and still; now her
back was bent in a peculiar way as she leaned over
her book, and one foot wagged nervously, while on
the visible cheek was a Spanish stamp with a
woman's face looking through the black bars, very
suggestively, if she had known it. How long the
minutes seemed till some one came, and what a
queer little jump her heart gave when Mrs. Minot's
voice said, cheerfully: "Jack is all right, and, I de-




cIare, so is Jill. I really believe there is a telegraph
still working somewhere between you two, and each
knows what the other is about without words."
I did n't have any other book handy, so I
thought I'd study awhile," answered Jill, feeling that
she deserved no praise for her seeming industry.
She cast a sidelong glance as she spoke, and see-
ing that Mrs. Minot was looking for the letter, hid
her face and lay so still she could hear the rustle of
the paper as it was taken from the floor. It was
well she did not also see the quick look the lady
gave her as she turned the letter and found a red
stamp sticking to the under side, for this unlucky
little witness told the story.
Mrs. Minot remembered having seen the stamp
lying close to the sofa when she left the room, for
she had had half a mind to take it to Jack, but did
not, thinking Frank's plan had some advantages.
She also recollected that a paper flew off the table,
but being in haste she had not stopped to see what
it was. Now, the stamp and the letter could hardly
have come together without hands, for they lay a
yard apart, and here, also, on the unwritten por-
tion of the page, was the mark of a small green
thumb. Jill had been winding wool for a stripe in
her new afghan, and the green ball lay on her sofa.
These signs suggested and confirmed what Mrs.
Minot did not want to believe; so did the voice,
attitude and air of Jill, all very unlike her usual
open, alert ways.
The kind lady could easily forgive the reading
of her letter since the girl had found such sad news
there, but the dangers of disobedience were serious
in her case, and a glance showed that she was suf-
fering either in mind or body,-perhaps both.
I will wait for her to tell me. She is an honest
child, and the truth will soon come out," thought
Mrs. Minot as she took a clean sheet, and Jill tried
to study.
"Shall I hear your lesson, dear? Jack means
to recite his like a good boy, so suppose you follow
his example," she said, presently.
I don't know as I can say it, but I 'II try."
Jill did try, and got on bravely till she came to
the word "permanent"; there she hesitated, re-
membering where she saw it last.
"Do you know what that means?" asked her
teacher, thinking to help her on by defining the
Always-for a great while-or something like
that; does n't it ?" faltered Jill, with a tight feeling
in her throat, and the color coming up, as she tried
to speak easily, yet felt so shame-stricken she could
"Are you in pain, my child? Never mind the
lesson; tell me, and I 'll do something for you."
The kind words, the soft hand on her hot cheek,

and the pity in the eyes that looked at her, were
too much for Jill. A sob came first, and then the
truth, told with hidden face and tears that washed
the blush away, and set free the honest little soul
that could not hide its fault from such a friend.
I knew it all before, and was sure you would
tell me, else you would not be the child I love and
like to help so well."
Then, while she soothed Jill's trouble, Mrs.
Minot told her story and showed the letter, wish-
ing to lessen, if possible, some part of the pain it
had given.
Sly old stamp! to go and tell on me when I
meant to own up, and get some credit if I could,
after being so mean and bad," said Jill, smiling
through her tears when she saw the tell-tale wit-
nesses against her.
You had better stick it in your book to remind
you of the bad consequences of disobedience, then
perhaps this lesson will leave a 'permanent' im-
pression on your mind and memory," answered
Mrs. Minot, glad to see her natural gayety coming
back, and hoping that she had forgotten the con-
tents of the unfortunate letter.
But she had not; and presently, when the sad
affair had been talked over and forgiven, Jill asked,
slowly, as she tried to put on a brave look:
Please tell me about Lucinda Snow. If I am
to be like her, I might as well know how she man-
aged to bear it so long."
I 'm sorry you ever heard of her, and yet per-
haps it may help you to bear your trial, dear, which
I hope will never be as heavy a one as hers. This
Lucinda I knew for years, and though at first I
thought her fate the saddest that could be, I came
at last to see how happy she was in spite of her
affliction, how good and useful and beloved."
Why, how could she be? What did she do ?"
cried Jill, forgetting her own troubles to look up
with an open, eager face again.
She was so patient, other people were ashamed
to complain of their small worries; so cheerful,
that her own great one grew lighter; so indus-
trious, that she made both money and friends by
pretty things she worked and sold to her many
visitors. And, best of all, so wise and sweet that
she seemed to get good out of everything, and
make her poor room a sort of chapel where people
went for comfort, counsel, and an example of a
pious life. So, you see, Lucinda was not so very
miserable after all."
"Well, if I could not be as I was, I 'd like to be
a woman like that. Only, I hope I shall not! "
answered Jill, thoughtfully at first, then coming
out so decidedly with the last words that it was
evident the life of a bed-ridden saint was not at all
to her mind.




So do I; and I mean to believe that you will
not. Meantime, we can try to make the waiting as
useful and pleasant as possible. This painful little
back will be a sort of conscience to remind you of
what you ought to do and leave undone, and so
you can be learning obedience. Then, when the
body is strong, it will have formed a good habit to
make duty easier; and my Lucinda can be a sweet
example, even while lying here, if she chooses."
Can I? and Jill's eyes were full of softer tears
as the comfortable, cheering words sank into her
heart, to blossom slowly by and by into her life,
for this was to be a long lesson, hard to learn, but
very useful in the years to come.
When the boys returned, after the Latin was
recited and peace restored, Jack showed her a
recovered stamp promptly paid by Frank, who was
as just as he was severe, and Jill asked for the old
red one, though she did not tell why she wanted it,
nor show it put away in the spelling-book, a little
seal upon a promise made to be kept.



Now let us see how the other missionaries got
on with their tasks.
Farmer Grant was a thrifty, well-to-do man,
anxious to give his children greater advantages
than he had enjoyed, and to improve the fine place
of which he was justly proud. Mrs. Grant was a
notable housewife, as ambitious and industrious as
her husband, but too busy to spend any time on
the elegancies of life, though always ready to help
the poor and sick like a good neighbor and Christ-
ian woman. The three sons-Tom, Dick and
Harry-were big fellows of seventeen, nineteen and
twenty-one; the two first on the farm, and the
elder in a store just setting up for himself. Kind-
hearted but rough-mannered youths, who loved
Merry very much, but teased her sadly about her
"fine lady airs," as they called her dainty ways
and love of beauty.
Merry was a thoughtful girl, full of innocent
fancies, refined tastes and romantic dreams, in
which no one sympathized at home though she was
the pet of the family. It did seem, to an outsider,
as if the delicate little creature had got there by
mistake, for she looked very like a tea-rose in a
field of clover and dandelions, whose highest aim
in life was to feed cows and help make root beer.
When the girls talked over the new society, it
pleased Merry very much, and she decided not
only to try and love work better, but to convert her
family to a liking for pretty things, as she called
her own more cultivated tastes.

I will begin at once, and show them that I
don't mean to shirk my duty, though I do want to
be nice," thought she, as she sat at supper one night
and looked about her, planning her first move.
Not a very cheering prospect for a lover of the
beautiful, certainly, for the big kitchen, though as
neat as wax, had nothing lovely in it, except a red
geranium blooming at the window. Nor were the
people all that could be desired, in some respects,
as they sat about the table shoveling in pork and
beans with their knives, drinking tea from their
saucers, and laughing out with a hearty Haw,
haw," when anything amused them. Yet, the boys
were handsome, strong specimens, the farmer a
hale, benevolent-looking man, the housewife a
pleasant, sharp-eyed matron, who seemed to find
comfort in looking often at the bright face at her
elbow, with the broad forehead, clear eyes, sweet
mouth, and quiet voice that came like music in
among the loud masculine ones, or the quick,
nervous tones of a woman always in a hurry.
Merry's face was so thoughtful that evening that
her father observed it, for, when at home, he
watched her as one watches a kitten, glad to see
anything so pretty, young and happy, at its play.
"Little daughter has got something on her
mind, I mistrust. Come and tell father all about
it," he said, with a sounding slap on his broad
knee as he turned his chair from the table to the
ugly stove, where three pairs of wet boots steamed
underneath, and a great kettle of cider-apple sauce
simmered above.
"When I 've helped clear up, I '11 come and
talk. Now, mother, you sit down and rest; Roxy
and I can do everything," answered Merry, patting
the old rocking-chair so invitingly that the tired
woman could not resist, especially as watching the
kettle gave her an excuse for obeying.
"Well, I don't care if I do, for I 've been on my
feet since five o'clock. Be sure you cover things
up, and shut the buttery door, and put the cat down
cellar, and sift your meal. I '11 see to the buck-
wheats last thing before I go to bed."
Mrs. Grant subsided with her knitting, for her
hands were never idle; Tom tilted his chair back
against the wall and picked his teeth with his pen-
knife; Dick got out a little pot of grease, to make
the boots water-tight; and Harry sat down at the
small table, to look over his accounts, with an
important air,-for every one occupied this room,
and the work was done in the out-kitchen behind.
Merry hated clearing up, but dutifully did every
distasteful task, and kept 'her eye on careless Roxy
till all was in order; then she gladly went to perch
on her father's knee, seeing in all the faces about
her the silent welcome they always wore for the
"little one."




"Yes, I do want something, but I know you
will say it is silly," she began, as her father pinched
her blooming cheek, with the wish that his peaches
would ever look half as well.
Should n't wonder if it was a doll now," and
Mr. Grant stroked her head with an indulgent
smile, as if she was about six instead of nearly
"Why, father, you know I don't. I have n't
played with dollies for years and years. No; I
want to fix up my room pretty, like Jill's. I '11 do
it all myself, and only want a few things, for I
don't expect it to look as nice as hers."
Indignation gave Merry courage to state her
wishes boldly, though she knew the boys would
laugh. They did, and her mother said in a tone
of surprise :
"Why, child, what more can you want? I 'm
sure your room is always as neat as a new pin,
thanks to your bringing up, and I told you to have
a fire there whenever you wanted to."
Let me have some old things out of the garret,
and I 'll show you what I want. It is neat, but so
bare and ugly I hate to be there. I do so love
something pretty to look at! and Merry gave a
little shiver of disgust as she turned her eyes away
from the large greasy boot Dick was holding up to
be sure it was well lubricated all round.
So do I, and that 's a fact. I could n't get on
without my pretty girl here, any way. Why, she
touches up the old place better than a dozen flower-
pots in full blow," said the farmer, as his eye went
from the scarlet geranium to the bright young face
so near his own.
I wish I had a dozen in the sitting-room win-
dow. Mother says they are not tidy, but I 'd keep
them neat, and I know you 'd like it," broke in
Merry, glad of the chance to get one of the long-
desired wishes of her heart fulfilled.
"I '11 fetch you some next time I go over to
Ballad's. Tell me what you want, and we '11 have
a posy bed somewhere round, see if we don't,"
said her father, dimly understanding what she
"Now, if mother says I may fix my room, I
shall be satisfied, and I '11 do my chores without a
bit of fuss, to show how grateful I am," said the
girl, thanking her father with a kiss, and smiling
at her mother so wistfully that the good woman
could not refuse.
"You may have anything you like out of the
blue chest. There 's a lot of things there that the
moths got at after Grandma died, and I could n't
bear to throw or give 'em away. Trim up your
room as you like, and mind you don't forget your
part of the bargain," answered Mrs. Grant, seeing
profit in the plan.

"I wont; I '11 work all the morning to-morrow,
and in the afternoon I '1 get ready to show you
what I call a nice, pretty room," answered Merry,
looking so pleased it seemed as if another flower
had blossomed in the large bare kitchen.
She kept her word, and the very stormy after-
noon when Jill got into trouble, Merry was work-
ing busily at her little bower. In the blue chest
she found a variety of treasures, and ignoring the
moth holes, used them to the best advantage,
trying to imitate the simple comfort with a touch
of elegance which prevailed in Mrs. Minot's back
Three faded red-moreen curtains went up at the
windows over the chilly paper shades, giving a
pleasant glow to the bare walls. A red quilt with
white stars, rather the worse for many washings,
covered the bed, and a gay cloth the table, where
a judicious arrangement of books and baskets con-
cealed the spots. The little air-tight stove was
banished, and a pair of ancient andirons shone in
the fire light. Grandma's last and largest braided
rug lay on the hearth, and her brass candlesticks
adorned the bureau, over the mirror of which was
festooned a white muslin skirt, tied up with
Merry's red sash. This piece of elegance gave
the last touch to her room, she thought, and she
was very proud of it, setting forth all her small
store of trinkets in a large shell, with an empty
scent bottle, and a clean tidy over the pincushion.
On the walls she hung three old-fashioned pictures,
which she ventured to borrow from the garret till
better could be found. One a mourning piece,
with a very tall lady weeping on an urn in a grove
of willows, and two small boys in knee breeches
and funny little square tails to their coats, looking
like cherubs in large frills. The other was as
good as a bonfire, being an irruption of Vesuvius,
and very lurid indeed, for the Bay of Naples was
boiling like a pot, the red sky raining rocks, and
a few distracted people lying flat upon the shore.
The third was a really pretty scene of children
dancing round a May-pole, for though nearly a
hundred years old, the little maids smiled and the
boys pranced as gayly as if the flowers they carried
were still alive and sweet.
Now I '11 call them all to see, and say that it
is pretty. Then I'll enjoy it, and come here when
things look dismal and bare everywhere else,"
said Merry, when at last it was done. She had
worked all the afternoon, and only finished at
supper time, so the candles had to be lighted that
the toilette might look its best, and impress the
beholders with an idea of true elegance. Unfort-
unately, the fire smoked a little, and a window
was set ajar to clear the room; an evil disposed
gust blew in, wafting the thin drapery within reach





of the light, and when Merry threw open the door
proudly thinking to display her success, she was
horrified to find the room in a blaze, and half her
labor all in vain.
The conflagration was over in a minute, how-
ever, for the boys tore down the muslin and
stamped out the fire with much laughter, while
Mrs. Grant bewailed the damage to her carpet,
and poor Merry took refuge in her father's arms,
refusing to be comforted in spite of his kind com-
mendation of Grandma's fixin's."
The third little missionary had the hardest time
of all, and her first efforts were not much more
satisfactory nor successful than the others. Her
father was away from morning till night, and then
had his paper to read, books to keep, or a man to
see down town, so that after a hasty word at tea,
he saw no more of the children till another eve-
ning, as they were seldom up at his early break-
fast. He thought they were well taken care of,
for Miss Bathsheba Dawes was an energetic, mid-
dle-aged spinster when she came into the family,
and had been there fifteen years, so he did not
observe, what a woman would have seen at once,
that Miss Bat was getting old and careless, and
everything about the house was at sixes and
sevens. She took good care of him, and thought
she had done her duty if she got three comfortable
meals, nursed the children when they were ill,
and saw that the house did not burn up. So
Maria Louisa and Napoleon Bonaparte got on as
they could, without the tender cares of a mother.
Molly had been a happy-go-lucky child, contented
with her pets, her freedom, and little Boo to
love; but now she was just beginning to see that
they were not like other children, and to feel
ashamed of it.
Papa is busy, but Miss Bat ought to see to us;
she is paid for it, and Goodness knows she has an
easy time now, for if I ask her to do anything, she
groans over her bones, and tells me young folks
should wait on themselves. I take all the care of
Boo off her hands, but I can't wash my own things,
and he has n't a decent trowser to his blessed little
legs. I 'd tell papa, but it would n't do any good;
he 'd only say, 'Yes, child, yes, I '11 attend to it,'
and never do a thing."
This used to be Molly's lament when some
especially trying event occurred, and if the girls
were not there to condole with her, she would
retire to the shed-chamber, call her nine cats about
her, and, sitting in the old two-bushel basket, pull
her hair about her ears, and scold all alone. The
cats learned to understand this habit, and nobly
did their best to dispel the gloom which now and
then obscured the sunshine of their little mistress.
Some of them would creep into her lap and purr

till the comfortable sound soothed her irritation;
the sedate elders sat at her feet blinking with such
wise and sympathetic faces, that she felt as if half
a dozen Solomons were giving her the sagest
advice; while the kittens frisked about, cutting up
their drollest capers till she laughed in spite of
herself. When the laugh came, the worst of the
fit was over, and she soon cheered up, dismissing
the consolers with a pat all round, a feast of good
things from Miss Bat's larder, and the usual speech:
"Well, dears, it's of no use to worry. I guess
we shall get along somehow, if we don't fret.",
With which wise resolution, Molly would leave
her retreat and freshen up her spirits by a row on
the river or a romp with Boo, which always finished
the case. Now, however, she was bound to try
the new plan and do something toward reforming
not only the boy's condition, but the disorder and
discomfort of home.
"I '11 play it is Siam, and this the house of a
native, and I 'm come to show the folks how to live
nicely. Miss Bat wont know what to make of it,
and I can't tell her, so I shall get some fun out of
it, any way," thought Molly, as she surveyed the
dining-room the day her mission began.
The prospect was not cheering; and, if the
natives of Siam live in such confusion, it is high
time they were attended to. The breakfast-table
still stood as it was left, with slops of coffee on the
cloth; bits of bread, egg-shells, and potato-skins
lay about, and one lonely sausage was cast away in
the middle of "a large platter. The furniture was
dusty, stove untidy, and the carpet looked as if
crumbs had been scattered to chickens who declined
their breakfast. Boo was sitting on the sofa, with
his arm through a hole in the cover, hunting for
some lost treasure put away there for safe keeping,
like a little magpie as he was. Molly fancied she
washed and dressed him well enough; but to-day
she seemed to see more clearly, and sighed as she
thought of the hard job in store for her if she gave
him the thorough washing he needed, and combed
out that curly mop of hair.
I '11 clear up first and do that by and by. I
ought to have a nice little tub and good towels, like
Mrs. Minot, and I will, too, if I buy them myself,"
she said, piling up cups with an energy that threat-
ened destruction to handles.
Miss Bat, who was trailing about the kitchen,
with her head pinned up in a little plaid shawl, was
so surprised by the demand for a pan of hot water
and four clean towels, that she nearly dropped her
snuff-box, chief comfort of her lazy soul.
"What new whimsey now? Generally, the
dishes stand 'round till I have time to pick 'em up,
and you are off coasting or careering somewhere.
Well, this tidy fit wont last long, so I may as well




make the most of it," said Miss Bat, as she handed
out the required articles, and then pushed her spec-
tacles from the tip of her sharp nose to her sharper
black eyes for a good look at the girl who stood
primly before her, with a clean apron on and her
hair braided up instead of flying wildly about her
"Umph was all the comment that Miss Bat
made on this unusual neatness, and she went on
scraping her saucepans, while Molly returned to her
work, very well pleased with the effect of her first
step, for she felt that the bewilderment of Miss
Bat would be a constant inspiration 'to fresh efforts.

as she looked at the unconscious innocent peace-
fully playing with the spotted dog, now bereft of
his tail, and the lone sausage with which he was
attempting to feed the hungry animal, whose red
mouth always gaped for more.
It will be an awful job, and he is so happy I
wont plague him yet. Guess I 'll go and put my
room to rights first, and pick up some clean clothes
to put on him, if he is alive after I get through
with him," thought Molly, foreseeing a stormy pas-
sage for the boy, who hated a bath as much as
some people hate a trip across the Atlantic.
Up she went, and finding the fire out felt dis-


An hour of hard work produced an agreeable
,change in the abode of the native, for the table was
cleared, room swept and dusted, fire brightened,
and the holes in the sofa covering were pinned up
till time could be found to mend them. To be sure,
rolls of lint lay in corners, smears of ashes were on
the stove hearth, and dust still lurked on chair
rounds and table legs. But too much must not be
expected of a new convert, so the young missionary
sat down to rest, well pleased and ready for another
attempt as soon as she could decide in what direc-
tion it should be made. She quailed before Boo
VoL. VII.-27.

courage, thought she would rest a little more, so
retired under the blankets to read one of the Christ-
mas books. The dinner-bell rang while she was
still wandering happily in "Nelly's Silver Mine,"
and she ran down to find that Boo had laid out a
railroad all across her neat room, using bits of coal
for sleepers and books for rails, over which he was
dragging the yellow sled laden with a dismayed
kitten, the tailless dog, and the remains of the sau-
sage, evidently on its way to the tomb, for Boo
took bites at it now and then, no other lunch being
offered him.




Oh dear I why can't boys play without making
such a mess," sighed Molly, picking up the feathers
from the duster with which Boo had been trying to
make a "cocky-doo" of the hapless dog. I '11
wash him right after dinner, and that will keep him
out of mischief for a while," she thought, as the
young engineer unsuspiciously proceeded to orna-
ment his already crocky countenance with squash,
cranberry sauce and gravy, till he looked more
like a Fiji chief in full war-paint than a Christian
I want two pails of hot water, please, Miss Bat,
and the big tub," said Molly, as the ancient hand-
maid emptied her fourth cup of tea, for she dined
with the family, and enjoyed her own good cooking
in its prime.
What are you going to wash now?"
Boo-I'm sure he needs it enough," and Molly
could not help laughing as the victim added to his
brilliant appearance by smearing the colors all to-
gether with a rub of two grimy hands, making a
fine Turner" of himself.
Now, Maria Louisa Bemis, you aint going to
cut up no capers with that child The idea of a
hot bath in the middle of the day, and him full of
dinner, and croupy into the bargain Wet a corner
of a towel at the kettle-spout and polish him off if
you like, but you wont risk his life in no bath-tubs
this cold day."
Miss Bat's word was law in some things, so Molly
had to submit, and took Boo away, saying, loftily,
as she left the room :
I shall ask father, and do it to-night, for I will
not have my brother look like a pig."
My patience! how the Siamese do leave their
things round," she exclaimed, as she surveyed her
room after making up the fire and polishing off
Boo. "I '11 put things in order, and then mend
up my rags, if I can find my thimble. Now, let me
see," and she went to exploring her closet, bureau
and table, finding such disorder everywhere that
her courage nearly gave out.
She had clothes enough, but all needed care;
even her best dress had two buttons off, and her
Sunday hat but one string. Shoes, skirts, books
and toys lay about, and her drawers were a perfect
chaos of soiled ruffles, odd gloves, old ribbons, boot
lacings and bits of paper.
Oh, my heart, what a muddle Mrs. Minot
would n't think much of me if she could see that,"
said Molly, recalling how that lady once said she
could judge a good deal of a little girl's character
and habits by a peep at her top drawer; and
Molly went on, with great success, to guess how
each of her school-mates kept her drawer.
Come, missionary, clear up, and don't let me
find such a glory-hole again, or I '11 report you to

the society," said Molly, tipping the whole drawer-
full out upon the bed, and beguiling the tiresome
job by keeping up the new play.
Twilight came before it was done, and a great
pile of things loomed up on her table, with no
visible means of repair,-for Molly's work-basket
was full of nuts, and her thimble down a hole in
the shed-floor, where the cats had dropped it in
their play.
I '11 ask Bat for hooks and tape, and papa for
some money to buy scissors and things, for I don't
know where mine are. Glad I can't do any more
now Being heat is such hard work and Molly
threw herself down on the rug beside the old
wooden cradle in which Boo was blissfully rocking,
with a cargo of toys aboard.
She watched her time, and as soon as her father
had done supper, she hastened to say, before he
got to his desk:
"Please, papa, I want a dollar to get some
brass buttons and things to fix Boo's clothes with.
He wore a hole in his new trousers coasting down
the Kembles' steps. And can't I wash him? He
needs it, and Miss Bat wont let me have a tub."
Certainly, child, certainly; do what you like,
only don't keep me. I must be off, or I shall miss
Jackson, and he 's fhe man I want," and, throwing
down two dollars instead of one, Mr. Bemis hurried
away, with a vague impression that Boo had swal-
lowed a dozen brass buttons and Miss Bat had been
coasting somewhere in a bath-pan; but catching
Jackson was important, so he did not stop to
Armed with the paternal permission, Molly car-
ried her point, and oh, what a dreadful evening
poor Boo spent! First, he was decoyed upstairs
an hour too soon, then put in a tub by main force
and sternly scrubbed, in spite of shrieks that
brought Miss Bat to the locked door to condole
with the sufferer, scold the scrubber, and depart,
darkly prophesying croup before morning.
"He always howls when he is washed; but I
shall do it, since you wont, and he must get used
to it. I will not have people tell me he 's neglected,
if I can help it," cried Molly, working away with
tears in her eyes-for it was as hard for her as for
Boo; but she meant to be thorough for once in her
life, no matter what happened.
When the worst was over, she coaxed him with
candy and stories till the long task of combing out
the curls was safely done; then, in the clean night-
gown with a blue button newly sewed on, she laid
him in bed, worn out, but sweet as a rose.
Now, say your prayers, darling, and go to
sleep, with the nice red blanket all tucked round
so you wont get cold," said Molly, rather doubtful
of the effect of the wet head.




No, I wont Going to sleep now! and Boo
shut his eyes wearily, feeling that his late trials had
not left him in a prayerful mood.
Then you '11 be a real little heathen, as Mrs.
Pecq called you, and I don't know what I shall do
with you," said Molly, longing to cuddle rather
than scold the little fellow, whose soul needed
looking after as well as his body.
No, no; I wont be a heevin I don't want to
be frowed to the trockindiles. I will say my
prayers oh, I will! and, rising in his bed, Boo
did so, with the devotion of an infant Samuel, for
he remembered the talk when the society was
Molly thought her labors were over for that
night, and soon went to bed, tired with her first
attempts. But toward morning she was wakened
by the hoarse breathing of the boy, and was forced

to patter away to Miss Bat's room, humbly asking
for the squills, and confessing that the prophecy
had come to pass.
"I knew it Bring the child to me and don't
fret. I '11 see to him, and next time you do as I
say," was the consoling welcome she received as
the old lady popped up a sleepy but anxious face in
a large flannel cap, and shook the bottle with the
air of a general who had routed the foe before and
meant to do it again.
Leaving her little responsibility in Miss Bat's
arms, Molly retired to wet her pillow with a few
remorseful tears, and to fall asleep, wondering if
real missionaries ever killed their pupils in the
process of conversion.
So the girls all failed in the beginning; but they
did not give up, and succeeded better next time,
as we shall see.

(Tob ;e coi/dbztued.)



- ,, .


CLICKETY, clackety, how the wheels run!
Crickety, crackety, is n't it fun
Rushing through bridges and over the streams,
Seeing the country like so many dreams!

Bumpity, bum.pity, bang, on each rail!
How the car shivers through mountain and vale !
Now on the hill-side, and now on the plain,
Running the same in the sunshine or rain.

Chunkety, chunkety, chunkety, chunk!
Bandbox and passenger, bundle and trunk,
All on the single train speeding away
Faster than antelopes bounding in play.

Jigglety, jogglety, bumpity, bump,
Crickety, crackety, humpity, hump,
Rattlety, battlety, clickety, clang,
Whistlety, ringity, here we stop, bang!



, .i
nI' I
.I. '1,


CHY LUNG lived quite alone by the sea, in a
small hut left him by his father, who, with his
mother, had died long ago, full of years, honest
and kindly people, but never well to do. Chy
Lung followed in his father's footsteps, and in his
grandfather's, and his grandfather's father's, and,
like them, was a fisherman.
He had been carefully reared, and was a virtuous
youth. He performed all the religious rites which
had been taught him; he observed all feast days,
and he never yet had allowed the new year to find
him with debts unpaid. Though toiling for their
daily bread, and used to many privations, his
parents had found some time for the education of
their only son. He knew something of Chinese
literature, was a good arithmetician, and was sel-
dom without his volume of Confucius, of whose
life and maxims he was exceedingly fond.
His occupation was a never-ending pleasure to
Chy Lung. While he was waiting to draw his
nets, he sat on the shore and listened to the sound
of the waves, and watched and wondered at the
craft in the dim distance, and sometimes even
made verses about the strange lands he could
almost see; for Chy Lung was a bit of a poet,
and liked composing verses almost as well as read-

ing them; and when he drew in his nets, he
watched for the haul with the same eager curiosity
he had felt as a child. Such strange creatures
came from the depths of the sea; great fishes fit
for the market; things with big eyes, and ugly
wide mouths, which it was necessary to kill, as
they devoured everything that came in their way
smaller than themselves; thousands of little silvery
minnows that were either dried on strings and
hung in festoons on the walls of the hut, or thrown
back into the water until they should attain a
larger growth.
The pleasant monotony of Chy Lung's life re-
mained unchanged for a long while, until one
morning, for the first time, the sea failed him, and
refused him her treasures. The first failure only
occasioned surprise; but when the second morn-
ing Chy Lung cast his nets in vain, things began
to wear a more serious aspect, for it was each day's
gain that supplied each day's food.
The third morning he rose betimes and hastened
out to try once more. With the deepest anxiety
he drew in his nets; it was easy work-for they
were empty.
Chy Lung sat for a long time, looking disconso-
lately at the empty nets, and apparently deep in





COME," said the Sn6w-flakes, it's time we should rally,
To tuck up the roots of the grass,
To shine on the hill-top and whiten the valley
And touch the world up as we pass.
All the huts that are ruined and ugly
Let us change into marble halls,
We will cover the naked hedges up snugly,
And festoon the ragged stone walls.
We will build our drifts on the king's highway,
Mimic the shape of star or feather,
We will silently waltz the livelong day,
Or sculpture garlands together.
Never, outside of the spider's loom,
Shall be spun such laces as ours,
And never, after the summer's bloom,
Shall be seen such wonderful flowers."




CHY LUNG lived quite alone by the sea, in a
small hut left him by his father, who, with his
mother, had died long ago, full of years, honest
and kindly people, but never well to do. Chy
Lung followed in his father's footsteps, and in his
grandfather's, and his grandfather's father's, and,
like them, was a fisherman.
He had been carefully reared, and was a virtuous
youth. He performed all the religious rites which
had been taught him; he observed all feast days,
and he never yet had allowed the new year to find
him with debts unpaid. Though toiling for their
daily bread, and used to many privations, his
parents had found some time for the education of
their only son. He knew something of Chinese
literature, was a good arithmetician, and was sel-
dom without his volume of Confucius, of whose
life and maxims he was exceedingly fond.
His occupation was a never-ending pleasure to
Chy Lung. While he was waiting to draw his
nets, he sat on the shore and listened to the sound
of the waves, and watched and wondered at the
craft in the dim distance, and sometimes even
made verses about the strange lands he could
almost see; for Chy Lung was a bit of a poet,
and liked composing verses almost as well as read-

ing them; and when he drew in his nets, he
watched for the haul with the same eager curiosity
he had felt as a child. Such strange creatures
came from the depths of the sea; great fishes fit
for the market; things with big eyes, and ugly
wide mouths, which it was necessary to kill, as
they devoured everything that came in their way
smaller than themselves; thousands of little silvery
minnows that were either dried on strings and
hung in festoons on the walls of the hut, or thrown
back into the water until they should attain a
larger growth.
The pleasant monotony of Chy Lung's life re-
mained unchanged for a long while, until one
morning, for the first time, the sea failed him, and
refused him her treasures. The first failure only
occasioned surprise; but when the second morn-
ing Chy Lung cast his nets in vain, things began
to wear a more serious aspect, for it was each day's
gain that supplied each day's food.
The third morning he rose betimes and hastened
out to try once more. With the deepest anxiety
he drew in his nets; it was easy work-for they
were empty.
Chy Lung sat for a long time, looking disconso-
lately at the empty nets, and apparently deep in





COME," said the Sn6w-flakes, it's time we should rally,
To tuck up the roots of the grass,
To shine on the hill-top and whiten the valley
And touch the world up as we pass.
All the huts that are ruined and ugly
Let us change into marble halls,
We will cover the naked hedges up snugly,
And festoon the ragged stone walls.
We will build our drifts on the king's highway,
Mimic the shape of star or feather,
We will silently waltz the livelong day,
Or sculpture garlands together.
Never, outside of the spider's loom,
Shall be spun such laces as ours,
And never, after the summer's bloom,
Shall be seen such wonderful flowers."




thought. He had need for reflection, for he had
only two small fishes wherewith to stay the pangs
of hunger, which by this time had begun to
make themselves felt most unpleasantly. At last,
he rose, and hanging out his nets to dry, went
Scraping together the last of his fuel, he cooked
and ate the smaller of the two fish with a ravenous
appetite. In the preparation of the other he took
greater pains. When it was browned to a nicety
he placed it upon his best dish, and after changing
his blouse for a fresh one, he started for the tem-
ple, there to lay the fish as an offering before the
idol called the God of Plenty.
As he entered the door of the temple a pungent
and aromatic smell of incense met his nostrils,
mixed with the odor of scented woods, and of the
baked meats, which had been brought as offerings.
Curious and elaborate carvings adorned the walls;
silken banners heavily embroidered hung from the
ceiling. The idols sat in a row on a dais beneath
a canopy. Some held fans, some had double faces;
all were hideous, and none showed the least con-
cern when the savory dishes were carried away
from beneath their very noses for the entertain-
ment of the priests in an inner apartment. They
all kept their seats, and moved neither hand, foot,
nor eyebrow, and there they are still sitting to this
Chy Lung pushed impatiently toward the God
of Plenty, before whom he laid his humble offering.
He prostrated himself before the idols, and then,
rising, he threw what are called the lucky sticks.
He frowned, and murmured to himself that his
hand had slipped, threw them again, and, stooping
upon his hands and knees, studied them anxiously.
But the lucky sticks that day proved most unlucky
for Chy Lung; they prophesied naught but grief
and disaster.
He rose, left the temple, and stood for some time
outside the door lost in thought. An old story
came into his mind, told by his mother, of a time
when the fisheries had failed altogether, when
strong men starved to death, and- little children
perished in their mothers' arms. He was faint and
giddy with fasting; his imagination was fevered.
Weird tales of his childhood returned to his mem-
ory, and that of the Sorcerer of the Sea was as
vividly clear to him as when he heard it first at his
grandfather's knee.
He stepped quickly forth into the street with a
cry, "Oh, I am so young to die, so young and
strong! If what I feel is but the beginning of
starvation, what must be the final pangs? Would
that I could meet the Sorcerer of the Sea I would
kneel at his feet, and beseech him until he should
help me for pity's sake !"

He looked up and down the street; no door
stood open; there was no cross street; and yet,
suddenly, a ragged old man appeared before him,
lean and bent with age.
Who art thou, old man ?" cried the fisherman,
with an involuntary shudder. Why do you stop
and look at me ? Go on! I have .. .. ;,, for you.
But, no, no and he fell at the beggar's feet. I
meant not what I said. Forgive me, forgive and
help me, or I die !"
For he knew him now! There was a certain
air about him which showed him to be the Sorcerer
of the Sea!
"Rise, strange youth," said the old man. I
understand you not. It is for me to ask, and for
you to give. What can any but a madman expect
from a beggar like this? And he shook his rags
in the air.
Give me something to eat. Give me some
good fortune, I implore you!" cried Chy Lung;
" see, I cling to your robe, and here I shall cling
until you have granted my petition."
You are a bold youth," said the beggar, and,
even as he spoke, he was gone. Chy Lung looked
up and down the street, rubbed his eyes, and
looked again; but no living thing was in sight. It
seemed a dream until his eyes fell upon his hand,
in which he still held a piece of the beggar's dress,
which, thin and rotten, had given way in his frantic
grasp. At least he had this.
He slept that night with the rag in his breast,
but his sleep was troubled and full of ugly dreams.
At day-break he rose to go down to the sea to throw
his nets. I will drop with them a bit of the rag,"
he thought. As he did so, he felt his heart beat
thickly, and his blood quicken with excitement.
When it was time to draw the nets, they pulled
heavily; he forgot his hunger and his weakness,
and hauled with an energetic force that soon
brought them to land. They might well have
taxed a stronger arm than his; for they were full
of the largest and finest of fish !
When he had joyfully loaded his baskets, and
balanced them at each end of a long pole which
he slung across his shoulders, he started for the
market-place with a long and swinging trot.
Though it was early morning, many people
were already there, who had come betimes that
they might have their choice of the fresh vegeta-
bles and fruit with the dew yet upon them, and
the fish still flapping the sea-water from their glit-
tering sides.
Chy Lung was at once surrounded by a crowd
of purchasers, and disposed of his fish without
delay. He returned home joyfully, his money in
his bosom. Never before had he earned so much
in a single day. He began to consider himself a




prosperous man, and fell to building castles in the
air. As he laid away his rice and provisions, he
glanced about the hut which had been his home
for so long. It looked smaller and meaner than

market-place, and again the people crowded about
him; but not'to buy. On the contrary, they
began to scold and abuse him in the most dreadful
way, and every moment the noise increased.


he had thought. He determined to build a new
one, soon. It should be made of bamboo, and
there should be matting on the floor, and he
would have many other things which he felt, for the
first time, to be necessary.
In the morning he went early to cast his nets;
but now he had no miisgivings, and threw in the
scrap of rag with an air of confidence. Again his
nets were filled to bursting; again he went to the

What is it ? I do not understand," he cried,
in astonishment; for at first the angry huin of
voices confused his hearing.
A heavy-browed woman stepped forward.
Thief and deceiver that thou art I cried she.
" We bring our money, good and hardly earned;
we buy of thee food for our families and our little
children ; but our children go hungry to bed, and
we are beaten by our husbands because there is no




meal prepared at their return; we trudge home
through the sun and dust; we open our baskets;
what do we see ? Notling / They are emhty /
The fish we bought have vanished Now make
good our loss, or it shall fare badly with thee ] "
The fisherman was deeply troubled.
"It is some strange mistake," said he. To
each who yesterday bought of me a fish which
afterward disappeared, I will now give another,
and a better, and a finer one, for I have had a
good haul to-day."
Still threatening, and but partially appeased, a
number of the villagers came forward and had
their baskets refilled. Chy Lung's panniers were
emptied as quickly as before, but he carried home
no money in his blouse, and built no castles in the
air that night.
When daylight came, he tried his nets once
more, with the same result. As he approached
the market-place his steps became slower, and his
air doubtful. He trembled as he listened to the
angry roar of a multitude.
The moment he appeared, the crowd rushed
Thou hast tricked us again!" they cried, "thou
infamous fisherman We will touch no more of
thy vile and bewitched fish! Return to us our
money !"
Chy Lung, amazed and terrified, emptied all the
money he had left, upon the ground, but it fell
short of the amount required.
The crowd moved nearer with menacing gest-
ures, and, as he dropped his pole and ran for his
life, it followed him with raging fury. An oyster-
shell struck him on the temple, followed by a
stone; missiles of every sort came flying from every
"Ah, I am lost! he cried. "Thou Sorcerer of
the Sea, it is to thee I owe my danger; why com-
est thou not to save me ? "
Suddenly an old man, in beggar's rags, was
waving back the multitude with an air of authority
which none seemed able to dispute. Those fore-
most in the ranks were thrown to the ground by
the wild rush of the mob behind. In a second
they were all sprawling upon the ground, a con-
fused heap of arms, legs, baskets and queues.
Save yourself while you may," said the
stranger. I will amuse the fools for a moment."
As he spoke, he dipped his forefinger into some
mud by the way-side and drew upon a white wall
figures in outline. The people who had arisen to
their feet fell back appalled; for now a wonderful
thing took place: as the old man's hand was raised
from the drawing of each figure, it moved, a living
thing, grimacing and gesticulating at the open-
mouthed crowd of astonished gazers.

One figure after another became thus possessed
of vitality, each more grotesque in shape than the
last. They leaped, they nodded, they bowed, they
seemed to crack their shadowy fingers in the air;
and every moment their gestures became swifter
and more extravagant, until a cry of fright burst
from the mob, and they turned and fled like one
man; for one of the figures, crowded off the end
of the wall, showed in strong relief against the
bright sky, still capering madly.
The beggar smiled, took a handful of rags from
his breast, wiped away the remaining figures, and
disappeared as suddenly as they.
All this time Chy Lung had stood spell-bound;
now he, too, turned to flee; but not alone. For,
as he fled, the outline figure fled with him; when
he stopped, it stopped; when he hurried on
again, it was still beside him, against a white wall,
or the bright sky, showing close behind him and
throwing its arms aloft in derisive mirth.
From that time it accompanied him in all his
wanderings. For now he became a wanderer.
Chy Lung, who had been so proud of his honest
independence, begged his bread from door to door,
while the figure followed and laughed at him.
Some weeks had elapsed when he found himself
far from his native town, hungry, foot-sore and
weary. As he stood in the street a laborer passed
by, from whom he begged a handful of rice. The
man looked at him in surprise.
"I wonder," said he, "that a man like you,
strong and able, should so demean yourself. Why
do you not work ? "
That I would do gladly," said the fisherman;
" but what work, and where? I do not understand
tilling the soil; I am only a fisherman."
: In that case," cried the man, there is some
hope for you.,. You see the tops of those pagodas
in the distance? Well, just beyond lie the estates
of a great mandarin, and I heard but this morning
that his steward was inquiring for a fisherman.
Make haste, that you may be the first to apply."
Chy Lung did make haste, and was engaged
upon trial. Here, surrounded as he was with all
the comforts of life, pursuing an avocation that
suited him, he might have passed many years of
peace and quiet, but for the annoying presence of
the outline figure, which still continued to show
itself to him whenever it had a chance. He soon
began to long for any change that might distract
his thoughts, and was quite pleased when the time
drew near for the Feast of Lanterns.
Preparations had already begun. Acrobats, jug-
glers, and theatrical performers were journeying
toward the mandarin's residence from all parts of
the empire. Immense paper dragons, with fire
spouting from their nostrils, guarded the garden



gates; the trees bore strange luminous fruits; gro-
tesque lanterns hung from every projection; a dis-
play of fire-works that should rival the sun was near
completion; singing kites, cunningly devised with
lanterns at their tails and strings stretched across
their bodies, through which the wind played, sent
down strains of harmony, now here, now there,
now low, now high; flowers bloomed, and tinkling
fountains cooled the air. Everything was arranged
upon a scale of the utmost magnificence. In the
store-house were pigs ready for roasting whole,
dried oysters, piles of curious-looking fungi, edible
birds'-nests for soup, packages of tea beyond all
price, sweetmeats of every kind, preserved ginger,
melons, delicious and of great variety, -everything,
in fact, and much more than was necessary for the
feast of a great mandarin.
The day arrived at last. Guests began to come
in, the road was filled with coolies carrying sedan
chairs curtained with silk, and numbers of gayly
dressed people walked about the beautiful and
extensive gardens, admiring all they saw.
It was with difficulty that Chy Lung could tear
himself away from the entrancing sight; but he
needs must, for time was flying apace, and there
was still the fish
to be caught for v%
the evening ban-
quet. When he -
drew in the nets,- -
to his horror
they were quite
light and empty.
He dared not go .
back without the I "
expectedfish. He
sat looking at his
nets, as they lay
upon the sands,
in helpless dis-
tress. Unwonted
gestures on the .
part of the outline
figure at last attrr.
ed his attention. Ir
was seen against I, '!.
chalk cliff, and wa : .. ,:,
lating violently, airi d :. .:.1
pointing toward hi- hI. I-i..
remembered the s(.. .. i.: i
and wondered vagu.-Il 1 .1i: 1,. 1 !.
it. No; there i :-jrl ;, hi
bosom The fig,.: i-..,,, .: ,, ,.:
nets. The tempts il:.1 i -.- .:r r.
be resisted. H is 11: .....! I ..I
he failed, so he l.., r.:..i! r.' I-,,.l .
nets, with a piece of the beggar's rag in them.

Now the nets came up heavy indeed. He pulled
harder and harder until they were landed. What


t.,, r:-'*'51 -' I -- '
-I. 'C;'

'"HE T C.. ." P EAV--



was his amazement and dismay, instead of fish, to.
behold two beautiful mermaidens struggling in the-
meshes. He unloosed one, who sprang into'
ii: i.. ,I .,' l shining tail. She
%7'~ :. 1. i,- ..I. I imming to a rock a
-/---1- I .--1 1, t, 1i pt aloud and called
-- i. : ,.,l 11,: ,1;herman to release
:-- -r h. c H.- ;as at first inclined
-h-- ,-_ .I.. -. I e remembered, with
I r..,,l at I .. heart, how late it
.1 ,...,: .1, how his head
,:,,-I "rely be cut off if he
-l,...,i to bring a fish for
-i t!-i, a great feast in the
",.-' ening. "She is
half fish, anyway,"'
be said. I will
take her, and
then they cannot
I say I brought

In vain the
mermaiden im-
I ploredhis mercy,
and told of her
4 mother waiting
--'- for her in the
gardens of the,
sea; in vain did
she plead her
youth and sex,
and offer him a
ransom in price-






her mother's treasury, if he would put her back Have you fish enough ?" said the cook, when
into the sea from which he had taken her. Chy Lung found him.
"You cannot," she said, "be such a monster as Oh, yes !" said the young fisherman. "I
to wish to have me cooked as a fish! No man could have a fine one, and it is so large and heavy that
be so hard-hearted as to condemn me to such a fate." half of it will be quite enough for the feast."

I am indeed sorry," replied the fisherman; But when they came into the kitchen, the bag
" but you must know that my own life is at stake, was empty.
To save it, I must take you to the kitchen. I don't '" Where is the fish? cried the cook.
believe they will cook you, but I am bound to take "I do not know," said Chy Lung, frightened.
something." Some one must have put it into the pot which is
So saying, Chy Lung put the mermaiden in a boiling over the fire."
great bag and carried her to the kitchen. There We shall see," said the cook; and he raised
was no one there, and he laid the bag on the floor the lid. A gust of steam escaped which he blew
and went to look for the cook. away with his breath, while he plunged a long




pointed stick several times into the cauldron; it
contained nothing but hot water. Turning upon
the fisherman, he struck at him savagely with the
stick, crying: "Ah, ha! dearly shall you pay for

this practical joke I will see to it that your head
is not upon your shoulders by this time to-morrow."
The mermaiden was safe enough, but very
unhappy. She had rolled out of the bag, and
through the kitchen door upon a smooth little
lawn, which sloped down to a fish-pond. Into this
pond she plunged, and concealed herself beneath
the water.
Now, indeed, Chy Lung looked upon himself as
doomed to die; but owing to the cook's multiplicity
of duties, no charge was brought against him until
the following morning, when a formal complaint
was made. He had already made his escape, but
it was impossible for him to get very far away, as
he would be instantly apprehended if he ventured
outside of the mandarin's grounds, for a cordon of
guards surrounded them, with orders to allow no
one to pass either in or out, except at the public
The beach, which was within the grounds, was
a bleak and lonely place, for which none cared to
leave the gardens; besides, it was whispered that
strange noises mingled with the sound of the
waves. Some imagined they heard groans and
sobs, as of a strong man weeping; others declared,
on the contrary, the voice was plaintive, and of an
unearthly sweetness, and that it seemed to be sing-
ing the saddest of songs.
To these superstitions the fisherman owed his
safety; it was not by ghosts the shore was
haunted. In a cleft under the chalk cliff Chy
Lung had hidden himself, venturing out only at

midnight to feed upon the scraps thrown aside by
careless hands. Every night, too, the mermaiden sat
on the rock, and bemoaned her sister. Her pitiful
lamentations showed a grief so intense and endur-
ing, that Chy Lung's heart was soon wrung
with remorse. Throwing himself upon the
sands, he joined his sobs with hers. Her
gentle heart was touched by his sorrows.
She spoke to him, and asked why he was
hiding like a wild beast. When she heard
7 his story, she felt compassion for his misera-
ble state, and though she could not forget
the sister she had lost, this gentle creature
forgave her murderer, and sought in her
Fashion to ameliorate his condition. She
/ often swam to the beach with beautiful things
From her garden to adorn his little cavern:
sea-weed braided into baskets, and filled with
S pearls and amber; golden coins that had
been brought her from sunken ships, with
which she paved the damp rock under his
feet; branches of coral, both red and white,
and shells and pebbles of brilliant hues.
Sometimes she sang, but in so melancholy
a strain that her voice pierced to the fisher-
man's soul, and made him sadder than he was before.
After a while her visits grew rare and brief, for
her mother was lonely without her, and would not
let her go. At these times, Chy Lung fell into the
habit of crawling up to the garden to hide under
the shrubbery, hoping to find at least momentary
forgetfulness of his miseries by watching the hap-
piness of others.
One evening, after the guests had retired, and
the lanterns were extinguished, so that the fisher-
man could wander at will without fear of molesta-
tion, he was leaning listlessly against a tree, near
the fish-pond, when he was startled by a voice near
at hand.
Fisherman !" it said. Listen to me! "
He turned hastily toward the pond, and, as the
words were repeated, he perceived that they came
from some one speaking just beneath the surface
of the water.
What is it you want of me, and who are you ?"
he asked in a whisper.
I am the mermaiden you caught in your net,
and cruelly tore from her family," the voice re-
plied. "Escaping by mere chance from the captivity
in which you placed me, I managed to reach this
pond, where I have been concealed for many days.
Do you wish to keep me here, or is your heart less
hard than it was when you dragged me from
the sea?"
My heart is not hard at all," answered Chy
Lung. I have suffered greatly on account of the
injury I did to you, and I am sure I repent it most





heartily, for myself as well as for you and for your
poor sister, who continually mourns your loss."
You do repent it !" exclaimed the mermaiden.
" If that is so, why not repair the injury ? why not
restore me to my home and to my family? "
I will do it! cried Chy Lung, I will do it
this very instant," and, wading a short distance
into the pond, he seized the outstretched hands of
the mermaiden and drew her ashore; then, seating
her upon his shoulder, he ran rapidly to the sea,
and soon the sad song of the sister could be heard,
as she sat upon a rock near the beach.
It is my sister my dearest sister cried the
mermaiden on Chy Lung's shoulder. Throw me
into the sea, that I may join her "
Chy Lung accordingly ran into the waves and
tossed the mermaiden into the water. She swam
rapidly to the rock, and in a moment the two
sisters were folded in each other's arms.
Who could have hoped for such happiness ?"
cried she who had been carried away. "Come,
my sister, we must leave this place, never to
return; all the unhappiness of our lives we have
found here." And she turned away, without a
glance toward the fisherman, but her gentler sister
besought forgiveness for him.
"He is hunted for his life," she explained.
" See his only home is this damp cave. All his
wrong-doings have been caused by the Sorcerer of
the Sea. Yonder creature," pointing to the outline



I .I !. "

':1 ---- ,,t .'

- ,; I ,"
^ :. ,; )

n I'll

1 1 ,1

figure, which was grinning and skipping on the
white side of the cliff, "stays with him all the
time and puts selfish ideas into his head."
As to that," said the other, I know enough
of the habits of mortals to feel sure that the con-
tents of the cave will buy any man's life, and place
him in what station he chooses. As for this creature,
behold 1 and she smiled rather contemptuously
as she swam near the shore and erased the outline
figure from the cliff with a handful of damp sea-
weed; then, clasping her sister in her arms, they
both floated out to sea, and Chy Lung never saw
them again.
The mermaiden spoke truthfully when she fore-
told that the treasure of the cave would pay for a
man's life. It did that for Chy Lung, and more;
it made him a man of wealth and standing besides.
And when he saved the mandarin's daughter from
drowning, and it was discovered that she had long
cherished an affection for the handsome fisherman,
her father offered him her hand in marriage.
Some of Chy Lung's day-dreams came to pass,
after all. He had a fine house and everything he
needed; and, when children grew up around him,
he often amused himself by fishing, and listened
to the voices of his boys and girls as they ex-
claimed at the wonders of the sea. He told them
many stories of his youth, but he never mentioned
the Sorcerer of the Sea, nor told how he caught
a mermaiden when he expected to pull in a fish.

9 Ifi.. 1 I \,

I~i~--~- -



, I

~-~ "




AH, how sweet in dreams to lie,
With the babes asleep close by!

-~ i>.



And how bitter when our rest
Is broken by unwelcome guest!

I am coming, children, dear.
Shiver not, for help is near."

Horror They have tumbled all!
In the water-butt they '11 fail!


" Here we go, dear, up up t up i
Safe I '11 bear each precious pup."


\,/ lu_ -'r _'.

" Pretty darlings! warm and dry,
Soon in dreams again we '1l lie."




NOT having much else to do, I have taken to
thinking much of late about the boys of our cities.
For one who lives in a city, that is not a very strange
thing to do; a good many boys are in sight as one
walks about; you find them not only in the school-
houses and the school-yards, but on the corners of
the streets, and in the alleys and the vacant lots;
and whenever a ball-match is about to begin in
the Park, you see crowds of them faring eagerly
that way.
Here and there you find boys at work: there are
cash-boys and news-boys and office-boys and mes-
senger-boys and shop-boys and boot-blacks and
garbage-boys,-some very honest and manly little
chaps, too, in that unpoetic branch of business.
Indeed, there are quite a good many boys in every
city who are hard at work every day, helping to
support themselves, and perhaps their mothers,
But, besides these boys who work, there are not
a few who have a great deal of time on their hands.
Some of the school boys study out of school, but
most of them, I fear, do not; and these, especially
the high school boys, have much the largest por-
tion of their waking hours to spend either in play
or in idleness, or in what is much worse than
either play or idleness. Many of these are the
sons of wealthy or well-to-do people; many others
are children of the poor. They sleep say eight
hours of the twenty-four, and this part of their time
is well improved; when they are asleep they are
all very good boys. Then they are in school four-
and-a-half or five hours; that makes, say thirteen
hours; and they spend, perhaps, two hours at
their meals, and on their way to and from school,
making fifteen hours; and that leaves nine hours
which those of them who do not study out of school
have to spend in amusing themselves. One whole
work-day in every week is a holiday, and that is
devoted wholly to play or idleness. About thirteen
weeks of every year are vacation weeks, and in
these there is nothing at all to do. Now let us
figure it up. One-quarter of the working time of
every year is vacation time. Of the three-quarters
left, one-sixth is holiday time, and one-sixth of
three-quarters is one-eighth; a quarter added to
an eighth is three-eighths. Of the five-eighths
of the working time left, about three-fifths is
spent in idleness or diversion, and three-fifths of
five-eighths is three-eighths; this added to the
three-eighths we had before makes three-fourths,-

three-quarters of the working time of every year
spent in fun or in idleness.
Even those boys who study an hour or two out
of school, on school days, but who have no other
work to do, have fully half of the working time of
every year for their own amusement.
Now, I like to see boys playing, and I would
deny myself a great many things rather than have
my boys forced to work as constantly as I did, and
with so little respite for fun as I had when I was a
boy; but, after all, it seems to me that it is a grave
question whether a boy who spends three-quarters,
or even half, of the working time of every year in
amusing himself is not carrying it a little too far;
whether, indeed, such a life as this is the kind of
life that a boy ought to be leading from his tenth
to his eighteenth year; whether this is the best
way for him to fit himself for the serious work of
life. And because this seemed to me so grave a
question, I thought I would see what light could
be thrown upon it by experience. If this is the
best kind of life to fit a boy for success," I said to
myself, "then, doubtless, we shall find that the
men who now stand at the head of affairs lived this
kind of life when they were boys." And I thought
I would try to find out whether this was true of the
men in my own city who stand at the head of
affairs. The city of Springfield, Massachusetts, in
which I live, is a fair sample of American cities. It
is not one of the largest class, but is one of our
oldest towns; it was founded only sixteen years
after the Pilgrims landed, and we who live here
think that in wealth and enterprise and respect-
ability and culture it compares favorably with the
other cities of the land. And I thought that if we
could find out how the active and prominent men
of this one city were trained, it might help to solve
the question we are considering. Accordingly, I
prepared the following circular:

"iMv D.AR SIR: I desire to find out, for the benefit of the boys,
how the leading men of this city spent their boyhood. Will you be
kind enough to tell me,
i. Whether your home during the first fifteen years of your life
was on a farm, in a village, or in a city; and,
2. Whether you were accustomed, daring any part of that period,
to engage in any kind of work when you were not in school?
"I should be glad, of course, to have you go into particulars as
fully as you are disposed to do; but I do not wish to tax your
patience, and I shall be greatly obliged for a simple answer to these
two questions."

I sent out one hundred of these to all the presi-
dents of the banks and of the insurance companies,






to the chief managers of the railroads, to the heads
of the most important manufacturing companies,
to the leading merchants in the principal lines of
trade, to leading lawyers and physicians, to the
chief editors of the newspapers, and to the princi-
pals of the schools. I tried to pick out one hun-
dred men who could fairly be said to stand at the
head of the financial, commercial, professional and
educational interests of the city, and to them I sent
my circular. No less than eighty-eight of these
busy gentlemen were kind enough to answer my
questions,-some of them briefly, most of them
quite fully. And it turned out, as I suspected,
that these men did not in their boyhood live the
kind of life that we have been talking about. Here
is a summary of the returns:
Of these eighty-eight men, twelve spent the first
fifteen years of their life in the city, twelve in vil-
lages, and sixty-four were farmers' boys.
But of the twenty-four who lived in villages and
cities, six were practically farmers' boys, for they
lived in small villages, or on the outskirts of cities,
and had the same kind of work to do that farmers'
boys have. One of these village boys says:
I learned to hoe, dig, and mow; in fact, I was
obliged to work, whether I liked it or not. In
winter I went to school, and worked nights and
mornings for my board."
Another says: I used to work away from home,
some on a farm in the summer and fall. In the
winter, when going to school, we three boys used
to work up the wood for winter use."
One of the city boys says: Up to my fifteenth
year, I was required to do the chores of the house,
milk and drive cows to pasture, saw the wood, etc.,
which occupied nearly all of my hours and gave
me little time to play."
Another says: My father kept many horses,
and several cows, and out of school hours I was
expected to do chores, look after the cows, cut
wood, and, in vacations, lend a hand at taking
care of horses and teaming, which I did."
Two others tell substantially the same story.
Now these, we shall all allow, were about the same
as farmers' boys, and we may as well add them to
that list, and that will make it up to seventy, so
that seventy out of eighty-eight,-almost four-fifths
of all these men,-had the training of farm-life.
And what is farm-life for a boy? If you could
read all of these letters, you would get a pretty
clear idea of what it is like. I can tell you very
shortly about what it means. It means work,
steady work, hard work, all the year round, with
few holidays and few leisure hours. From about
seven to~ten years of age, these farmers' boys, who
are now bank presidents and merchants and law-
yers and doctors, were accustomed to go to school

about three months in the winter and three months
in the summer; but out of school hours, and
during vacations, there was always work for them
to do: gardens to weed, cattle and sheep and pigs
and chickens to care for, fire-wood to saw and split
and pile and carry into the house, hay to stir and
rake, corn to husk and shell,-plenty of work, and
they were set at it and kept at it, most of them,
from the time that they were seven or eight years
old. After they were about ten, they stopped
going to school summers; they were wanted at
home to work; so that, from about ten to fifteen, they
had three or four months of schooling every winter,
during which time they did many chores mornings
and evenings, while all the other nine months of
the year were devoted to work, with little respite.
I am permitted to give you one or two extracts
from these letters, which will show you how these
farmers' boys spent their time:
"For the first eighteen years of my life," says
one of them, I lived on a farm, and, as soon as
I was old enough, attended school for about five
months during the fall and winter, and, until I was
ten years old, a summer school, taught by a lady,
about three months. When attending school, I
had work to do, both night and morning-
what was called chores; and when not attending
school, I worked with my father on the farm, com-
mencing early, and working without any let-up,
except for meals, until sunset, frequently staying
in the field as long as we could see during the
haying season. The only holidays or vacations I
knew anything about were Thanksgiving and the
Fourth of July."
Another writes: I worked from sunrise to sun-
set, when out of school. When in school, morn-
ing, noon and night I had to feed the cattle and
cut the wood, and Saturdays I went into the woods
to chop wood, for which," he adds-and perhaps
it is easier for some of us older ones than it is for
the boys to feel the force of his devout words-
"for which I thank my Heavenly Father."
"I was born and reared on a farm," writes
another, working summers mostly, and going to
school winters, from the time I was eight years old
until I was fifteen. After that, I worked upon the
farm with my father and brothers, when at home
vacations, until I commenced the practice of law."
I think I began to weed in the garden," writes
another, "when not more than eight years old.
I drove the cow to pasture, and, at the age of ten
or twelve, milked the cow, carded the oxen, and
fed the pigs. I think we burned twenty cords of
wood a year, and it was my business always in
winter to have a good stock on hand, piled up in
the back room. Shelling corn on the edge of an
iron shovel was also one of the duties to be per-




formed, frequently as a stint (generally pronounced
stent) in the half days when there was no school.
With riding horse to plow in the summer, before
school hours, I had a busy life of it."
Another of these gentlemen says: I had very
little time for play or recreation. My school was
more than half a mile distant, and when I was twelve
or thirteen years of age, I was always required to
come home to dinner if the weather and the going
were fair. We had just one hour's intermission,
and in that hour in winter I would travel home and
do about ten to fifteen minutes' work at the barn,
when that was needed; if that was not needed, I
was required to spend about the same length of
time chopping wood at the door. After traveling
that mile and a quarter, eating dinner, and work-
ing ten minutes, I would get back to the school-
house, and have sometimes five or eight minutes
for snow-balling or other play before the afternoon
session began."
Some of these boys knew what it was to have a
day or a half day, once in a great while, for fishing,
or hunting, or berrying. During the long winter
evenings, there was sport for them in coasting or
in skating, with now and then a friendly game of
"I spy," with neighbor boys, after dark, around
the barn and the straw-stacks, and occasionally
the rare excitement of a husking-bee, or a spelling-
match, or a singing-school. It was not all drud-
gery, and for these occasional hours of fun they
had a keen relish. But, after all, life with them
meant, as I said at first, hard and steady work from
the beginning to the end of the year.
Now, how was it with the eighteen city and vil-
lage boys that are in our list ? Did they have an
easy time of it ?. Five of them did, as they testify;
five of them had no work in particular to do, but
one of the five says that he studied law when out
of school, ard that was not exactly play. The
rest of the eighteen were poor boys,-not paupers,
by any means, but children of the humbler classes,
many of them in narrow and needy circumstances,
-and though they lived in cities or villages, they
were accustomed from their earliest years to hard
"Was generally employed," says one, "during
the summer months and in vacations in doing any
kind of work that offered."
"Always had some daily work to do," says
When not in school, I was engaged in work."
Nearly all my time was occupied in work when
not in school."
Was employed in my father's wood-working
shop when not in school."
I was accustomed to work in my father's print-

After twelve years of age I attended school in
the winter only, working in a woolen-mill the rest
of the time."
These are sample cases.
Four of the city boys were newsboys. One of
them says : The last year I was connected with
the press,' I earned one hundred dollars before
Another: I have paid my own way since eight
years of age, without any assistance except my
board, from my eighth to my eleventh year."
When I was fourteen years old," says another
of these city boys, "I worked out summers, at-
tending school winters, paying.for the schooling by
acting as janitor. During vacations I did any odd
jobs I could find to do, earning sometimes a dollar
a day, and sometimes thirty to fifty cents, but
never refusing to work on account of price, think-
ing half a loaf better than no bread. I would leave
play any time for a paying job, although I was
very fond of play, and good at it, too. I recall
that, on the morning I was to go to take my first
lesson in the business that was to be my occupa-
tion for eighteen years, I drove to pasture the cows
which I had engaged to drive for ten cents a week,
and then, donning my best clothes, reported for
I think that you can now see pretty clearly what
sort of training the boys had who are now at the
head of affairs in Springfield. Seventy of them
were country boys, trained by the severe discipline
of farm life; thirteen of them were city and village
boys who found it necessary to work when they
were not in school, and who had but little leisure
for play; five only of the eighty-eight were boys
who had nothing particular to do.
But while these boys were growing and working,
hoeing the corn, tending the lathes, carrying the
newspapers, a great many boys were growing up in
this same city of Springfield. They were the sons
of the merchants and the bankers and the lawyers
and the doctors of that day. They went to school,
and they spent the time out of school in amusing
themselves, as boys of their class are apt to do.
Where are they ? Only five boys of this class are
heard from among the eighty-eight solid men of
my city. Where are the rest of them? They were
here on the ground; they ought to have stepped
into the places of influence and prominence in
which their fathers stood. What has become of
Perhaps," you are -saying, "they are leading
men in other cities. A prophet is not without
honor save in his own country; perhaps they have
found better openings elsewhere than they could
find at home, and are as successful and prosperous
as their fathers were." Some of them are, no




doubt, but the number of these must be very small.
For you notice that we find in Springfield only five
men out of eighty-eight who came from this class.
Ninety-four and a half per cent. of these men from
whom we have heard were either farmers' boys or
poor and hard working town boys. They did not
-come from rich or well-to-do families anywhere.
They are not the sons of merchants or bankers in
Hartford, or Worcester, or Northampton. If we
found at the head of affairs in Springfield a goodly
number of the sons of such men, who had come
from other cities, then we might easily believe that
the boys of this class who were raised in Spring-
field, were in similar positions in other cities; but
this is just what we do not find; and since we have
no reason to suppose that Springfield is at all ex-
ceptional, we must believe that a very small num-
ber of boys of this class are in leading positions
anywhere, and that those Springfield boys whose
fathers stood where the men from whom we have
been hearing now stand, have stepped down and
,out; that they are either occupying subordinate
positions to-day, or else-and this is true of many
.of them-that they have gone to ruin.
Now, why is it that these farmers' boys and these
poor men's sons have gone right up to the front,
and taken the places that by inheritance belonged
to the others? Is it because farmers' boys have
more brains than city boys? Is it because poor
men's sons are smarter than rich men's sons? No;
we are not going to admit anything of the kind.
Is it because the farmers' boys and the poor
men's sons are morally superior to the sons of the
well-to-do people in the cities? No; I do not
think that this is true either. The class of boys of
which I am talking are not, in their early years,
exceptionally immoral. There are bad specimens
among them, of course; but there are-quite as
many, in proportion, in those classes out of which
these successful men have come. There is a great
deal of vice, and animalism, and iniquity, among
country boys. And many of these fellows who
grow up in the homes of the well-to-do people of
the cities are as manly and ingenuous and right-
hearted as any boys in the world. Why is it, then,
that the great majority of them fall behind in the
race of life ?
The reason is a very simple one. They are not
trained to work when they are young, and there-
fore they are beaten at every point by the boys
who are trained to work. Pretty nearly all the
prizes of life are carried off by the men who have
learned to work. And the boys who are compelled
by circumstances to learn this lesson, are perfectly
sure, in this country, to outstrip those who have
not learned it.
I heard, the other day, not from him, but from

one who knew him well when he was a boy, a very
good story of one of the best known and most
prosperous of these business men. He was a
farmer's boy; and when he was about ten years
old he went out for the first time with the rrien into
the potato field to help in hoeing the potatoes. It
was a large field, and the soil was stony, and there
were many weeds, and the progress was slow. After
they had been at work for some time, the boy
lifted himself up, and looked around upon the few
rows that were hoed, and then over the wide field.
upon which so small a beginning had been made,
and said, with a sigh:
Can this field of potatoes ever be hoed ?"
Well, the work went on, and after a good while
the last row was finished. It had been a long and
tedious job, but it was done. By and by it was
necessary to hoe the potatoes the second time, and
the boy was summoned to help. He had not been
at work very long when he straightened up, this
time with a very different comment:
"This field of potatoes," he said, "has been
hoed once, and it can be hoed again."
There it is-the whole philosophy of it. The
boy had learned a most salutary and precious
lesson. He had learned that it was possible to
accomplish a long and difficult and disagreeable
task by settling right down to it, and keeping at it,
hill by hill, and row by row-hour after hour, and
day after day-until it was done. He had learned
the value of patience and persistence and steadiness.
That is the lesson that a farmer's boy has a good
chance to learn, and that every boy is likely to learn
who has any grit in him, and who is forced to face
the hard fact of poverty. Any boy who has learned
that lesson well has good promise of the future; to
any boy who has not learned it, the education of
the schools is worthless, and money is a curse.
You see, then, boys, that those of you who belong
to the class of which I first began to speak,-those
of you who are not obliged to do any regular work,
and who have half or more than half of all your
working time in which to amuse yourselves-are
not, after all, in a very favorable position. You are
sometimes talked to about your advantages; but
the fact is that you are laboring under great dis-
It is an immense disadvantage to you that you
are not learning, in these years when the habits of
life are formed, the habit of steady, patient, plod-
ding work.
It is a disadvantage to you that you have so
much time for play; many of you get the idea that
the staple of life is play: your heads are so full of
it that you cannot do justice to your studies; any
task becomes irksome to you; and you lose the
power of application and the habit of persistence.




The abundance of amusements within reach of a
city boy whose parents are in fair circumstances is
a great obstacle in his way. Such amusements,
indulged in to the extent that they are by the
majority of boys of this class, debilitate the mind,
instead of refreshing it, and unfit the boy for the
serious business of life.
The free. access to the city libraries and the cir-
culating libraries is, I fear, a great disadvantage to
many of you. It need not be, if you make the
right use of them ; but if you read almost wholly
for amusement, as many of you do-if you read
only novels, and sensational tales of travel-then
your reading has exactly the same effect upon your
mind that your other amusements have ; the result
of it is, that you lose your mental grip, and find
yourselves unable to do any patient, vigorous
mental work.
Another of your d:-..I -,,i .'.-, is, that you have
too much money to spend-or, if you have not
much, that what you have comes easily-with little
or no effort or sacrifice on your part. You have
not much chance of learning the cost of money.
Money costs work, and any large amount of it costs
prudence and frugality ; that is the rule, to which
there are few exceptions. You are not likely to
prove exceptions to the rule when you go out into
the world, and it is a pity that you should seem to
be exceptions now. You think, perhaps, that your
fathers get considerable money without seeming to
work very hard; but you forget that it was by years
of hard work, with small earnings and small savings,
that your fathers, most of them, gained the power,
and the knowledge, and the credit, and the capital
that enable them now to reap large rewards with
comparative ease. You are not going to do, off-hand,
what it has cost them a life-time to learn how to do.
And it is a great misfortune to you that your
money, be it much or little, is so easily gotten; you
do not realize the price that must be paid for
money, and you throw it away in a reckless fashion;
as the wise man says, it comes lightly, and 'is soon
One of the prosperous gentlemen from whom
we have been hearing writes thus to me :
I remember well the first money I ever earned.
I worked for a neighboring farmer six months for
two dollars per month. I was then quite young,
and during the long summer days I was sometimes
a little discouraged; but then the thought would
come to me of the exceeding great reward which
would be mine at the end of the six months, and
I labored on, performing, I am now inclined to
believe, six months of as honest and faithful work
as any I have since done. Certain I am, that I
have never received for any six months since, while
at work for others or engaged in business for my-
VOL. VII.-28.

self, any remuneration which seemed quite equal
to that I then received."
That boy learned a lesson that was of incalculable
value to him; it is a lesson that country boys and
poor boys are very often compelled to learn, and
that many of you do not seem to have the chance
of learning; and this is a tremendous disadvantage
to you.
So, then, you see that what people call your
advantages are really your disadvantages; for,
while you are having a good time here, hanging
on the fences, sunning yourselves in the vacant
lots, watching the ball-games, or joining in laugh-
ing over the minstrel shows or the Pinafores, read-
ing the novels and the story papers, spending your
money for little luxuries, the poor boys and the
country boys are learning to work, learning to
put themselves right down to hard tasks, learning
that disagreeable things can be done by sticking
to them, learning, in their small gains, what a costly
thing money is, learning the great and profitable
lessons of labor and patience and frugality and
steadfastness. And so, when you and they start
out together in the great arena of the world's work,
they go right past you, and the first you know you
are nowhere, and the work of the world and the
prizes of industry and skill and power are in their
You often see two young men beginning together
in business, with equal chances and equal abilities,
the only difference between them being, that one
of them has learned during his boyhood what work
means, and the other has not. Presently, this last
one finds that there is much that is disagreeable
and confining and tedious about his work; that
much is required and little is given for it; and he
gives it up and is off in search of something
pleasanter. It is not easy to find; and so he tries
one thing after another, sticking to nothing long,
and getting no mastery of anything. His gains
are therefore small, but his wants are many; his
expenses exceed his income; he is always in debt,
and by and by he gets utterly discouraged. Luck
is all against him, he says, it is no use to try, and
he sinks down into helpless poverty, or perhaps
plunges into vice or crime. A great many of the
forgers and defaulters come from this class. The
other young man, meantime, sticks to his work.
He knows that work is not always agreeable, but
he is not going to let the task conquer him; he
will conquer the task. He has done it before, and
can do it again. Success does not come all at
once, but he can wait as well as work. And it
comes to him by and by. He does not need to go
in search of it; promotion seeks him. Prosperity
does not need to be run after; it follows.
Now, boys, you are thinking by this time that,




for those of you who are so unlucky as not to be
obliged to earn your own living, there is a dubious
outlook. Well, I have only been giving you the
facts. I did not invent these facts; I have simply
reported them as honestly as I could, and you cer-
tainly can afford to look them in the face. I want
to guard you, however, against one or two wrong
You must not infer that all the country boys who
come to the cities become rich and influential men.
There are tens of thousands of them who become
paupers; there are tens of thousands of them who
come to the city because they do not like to work,
and because they imagine that city folks have an
easy time of it. They come to grief, of course,
and it serves them right.
Neither must you infer that all poor boys in the
cities become I. ..lI.., merchants and leading law-
yers. Tens of thousands of them are growing up
to be paupers and criminals.
Neither are you called upon to believe that these
boys from whom we have heard liked the severe
and confining labor at which they were kept in
their boyhood. Some of them disliked it less than
others did, no doubt; but most of them did hard
work, not because they enjoyed it, but because they
were compelled to do it.
What these facts and figures teach is simply
this: that a boy in city or in country, who is trained
to work, who gets the discipline of will that comes
with that training, has eighteen chances of suc-
ceeding in life, when the boy who has not had this
training has one chance.
They teach also, and this is the fact that I want
you all to notice, that you cannot afford to go with
the majority of your class, unless your class greatly
changes its habits; that if you do about as the
other fellows of your class do, you will come out
about where the other fellows of your class come
out-and that is nowhere-crippled, beaten, dis-
tanced in the race of life.
Well, then, is there no chance for you ? Yes;
there is a splendid chance, if you will only seize it.
Here are five men who have succeeded-who have
come up to tell you their story. They had your
disadvantages, but they have made men of them-
selves-successful, worthy, influential gentlemen.
All honor to them What they have done you can
do. And if the boys of this generation will look the
facts in the face, and see what the conditions of suc-
cessful manhood are, the next census, thirty years
from now, will tell a different story.
Can anything be done to give boys in the city a
better chance?
Yes; there are some things that can be done,
and that must be done. Our system of education
must be modified so as to provide industrial as well

as mental training. The education of the hands,
the education of the eye, the education of the judg-
ment, the education of the will, that a boy gets by
learning to. work, are of more consequence to him
in future life than arithmetic and geography and
grammar. These last are of great importance,
but those first are of greater importance; and it is
a poor system of education that makes no provision
for them.
It is habits rather than methods of industry, how-
ever, that you need to learn ; and many of you will
find some opportunities of learning these about
your own homes, if you will look for them. There
is considerable work of one kind or another that
boys can do-that some boys do-in connection
with the house or the garden or the grounds; and
if you will shoulder this, and do it well and faith-
fully, the exercise and the training will be very
profitable to you, and may be very helpful to your
Furthermore, there is plenty of chance for you to
do faithful, mental work; and this, if you will take
hold of it with a will, may be almost as valuable
training for future usefulness as manual labor
could be.
To begin with-there is your every-day school
work, to which some of you might give a good deal
more time, with great profit. If you will take the
studies that you like least, and go at them with the
determination to master them-if you will put your-
selves right down to the disagreeable parts of your
school work with steady patience, and hold your-
selves to them till they are thoroughly done, you
will get in such victories as these a discipline of will
that is almost as good as you would get in hoeing a
stony potato-field. Besides, there are lines of
reading or of study that you could take up in con-
nection with your school work in which you would
find the best kind of discipline. If the boy who
now spends almost all his afternoons in the park,
or visiting boy-friends, and almost all his evenings
at his club, or at the music hall, and who fills in the
intervals of leisure with Fireside Library stories,
will make up his mind to give at least two solid
hours of everyday to the reading of some instructive
book-doing it of his own accord, doing it thor-
oughly, not fooling around two hours with the book
in his hand, but holding his attention right to it,
whether he is specially interested in it or not, till
he comprehends it, and fixes it in his mind-that
will prove to him a most valuable training. The
boy who can do a thing like this can make a man
of himself. He is not the kind of chap that will be
elbowed off the track by country boys, nor by any-
body else.
Of course, you ought to have a chance to play.
A boy likes to play, and a school-boy needs to





play. I should wish my boys to have at least two who really expect to hold their own in the great
hours every day of good, wholesome, vigorous out- competitions of the world must give less time to
door sport; so much as that would not hurt them, idleness, and play and foolish reading, and put
I am sure-though that is a great deal more than I their minds and their wills in training for the
had. But I am equally sure that all those city boys serious work of life.




II, --

,^- ... ,

r r

A GROUND-HOG climbed up to the mouth of his hole
Just to take a sly peep at the weather;
And right careful was he not to venture too far,
For he said I've some foes, and I know who they are;
But he thought he would like to know whether
The long, cheerless winter was certainly o'er,
Or whether 't would linger for six weeks or more.

He peeped slyly out-'t was a dull, cloudy day,
And the prospect was dismal and gloomy;
But it suited him well, for he bolted right out,
And the way that he frolicked and gamboled about
Showed a liking for places more -roomy
Than the close and contracted, though snug little hole,
In which he 'd been sleeping as blind as a mole.

What a queer look he had! You 'd have thought so, I 'm sure,
Had you caught but a glimpse of the fellow;
Out of four little paws, you 'd have noted but three
That were black, for the fourth was as white as could be,
While his fur was of mixed gray and yellow;



/ -.


He rose with an appetite, doubtless you '11 think,
'T was exactly his own way of thinking;
So he made up his mind that he 'd soon have his fill,
To a garden hard by started off with a will,

/ i' l /


> 3~jK
J ^]
k---v ^r ^ ^


- ~

And the sight that he saw set him blinking;
For a splendid repast to his taste there he found
In the winter fruit scattered all over the ground.


And right lanky was he with a famishing maw,
For he could n't eat dirt and he would n't eat straw !




He had only just taken a nibble or two
When he noticed a chill wind a-blowing;
And lo, and behold he could scarce trust his eyes,
For a clear azure streak showed itself in the skies,
And soon the bright sun, too, was showing;
His shadow he saw, and with piteous dole
He cried, "Out too soon I must back to my hole!"
-And for six weeks thereafter 't was snowing!

(A Fa~rm-house Story )


IN city or country, it is all the same, Monday is
always washing day."
Aunt Keziah Merrill was a person who was
apt to begin that sort of work early in the morn-
ing, and on that particular Monday she had a
woman come over from the village to help Ann,
so that, by the middle of the forenoon, all the lines
that were stretched between the trees and fence-
posts in the back yard were white and pink and
check with the fruit of the wash-tub.
It 's a big washing," said Susie, as she stood
on the piazza with Roxy. "Are all those little
stockings yours, Roxy? "
"No," replied Roxy. "Some of'em are Chub's.
One day there was a chair left under the line and
the Shanghai rooster jumped upon it and he
pulled all my stockings off the line."
What did he do that for? "
I don't know. Piney said he was a poor

heathen Chinee, and didn't know any better. But
then, he crowed about it."
Are we all going d II .,,, this morning "
"I guess not. Uncle Liph and Mother and
Grandpa are going out riding, by and by. But
Aunt Keziah and Cousin Mary are going with us."
"I 'am glad of that. Only I hope we wont meet
any bad sheep."
"There aint any. We 've got the only one
there is."
And Roxy seemed almost inclined to be proud
of the fact.
It was not long before Aunt Keziah called them
in to see if they were ready for their walk, and
then, with Chub toddling on ahead of them, they
all marched through the front gate and up the
road for a little stroll.
They had not gone far when they saw a strange-
looking group in front, who seemed to be friends
to Chub, for Mary exclaimed:




Where is Chub running to? What queer peo-
ple! Does he know them ? "
Those? Oh, they 're Indians from the Reser-
vation. It's Piney's friend, Hawknose John, that
he was talking of. The little one is The Wood-
chuck, and the two women are squaws."
The tall man has picked up Chub. He wont
hurt him? "
Hurt him? No! I only hope he has n't any
maple sugar in his pocket. He's always giving
the child something of the kind."
They had quickened their pace, and were pretty
near the little squad of Onondagas. Roxy, herself,
tripped on ahead, but Susie was quite contented to
take hold of her grown-up sister's dress and walk
beside her. The two squaws had each a burden to
carry, for on each pair of shoulders, tightly held in
a blanket, in spite of the hot day, there nestled a
brown-faced bit of a baby.
Oh, the pappooses !" exclaimed Roxy. See
them, Susie."
How funny they are 1 "
I should think they 'd melt under those blank-
ets, this hot day," said Aunt Keziah, but they
don't. Indians take naturally to blankets."
Mary was really interested in the pappooses,
and the two squaws smiled very pleasantly, but did
not say a word, as the ladies patted their dusky
"How boy like new bow?" said Hawknose
John. Break window yet ? "
No, John," said Aunt Keziah, "but he shot a
pickerel. Biggest one I've seen in a year."
Good. Boy make Indian, some day."
What will you take for your pappoose, John ? "
said Aunt Keziah, with a sly look at Mary.
Potatoes," said John, gravely. All can
carry in big bag."
"That's what you made me give you for
Piney's bow," laughed Aunt Keziah. I wont
make any more bargains with you. You might
carry off the farm."
"Good," said Hawknose John. "S'pose did.
Indian own him all once. Trade him to Aunt
Keziah's grandfather for blanket and old gun. All
tree, den. Plenty deer. Plenty Onondaga. In-
dian no pick berry and trade bow for potatoes.
Keep bow to kill deer."
He is n't so far wrong, Mary. Your great
grandfather used to trade a good deal with the In-
"But, Aunt Keziah," said Roxy, "we don't
want any Indian babies at our house, do we?"
"Why not, Roxy?" said Mary. "That's a
real pretty one."
Oh, yes," exclaimed Susie, buy it and we '11
take it with us to the city."

We never could grow it up at our house, any-
how," objected Roxy.
"Would n't it eat?" asked Susie. Not even
if you gave it milk? Could n't Piney tame it for
But Hawknose John's squaw had been listening,
and she now broke out into a merry fit of laughter as
she shook her head and pulled her blanket tighter
around her little one. She had not said a word,
for that would have been contrary to Indian cus-
toms, in the presence of her husband, but both she
and the other squaw started off down the road, fol-
lowed pretty quickly by Hawknose John and The
It would not do to make too long a walk of it, if
only for Chub's sake, and after Aunt Keziah had
led them to the top of a little hill, and showed
them the next lake, in the distance, they made the
best of their way home. The children, indeed,
were glad enough to follow Chub's example and
have a nap, for they had been up and busy since
early that morning, and it was now almost noon.

THAT Monday afternoon, Grandfather Hunter
and Uncle Liph and Aunt Sarah and Piney's
mother went for a drive in the carry-all. Mary
Hunter went back to her room, after dinner, for
another look at her papers and magazines.
Aunt Keziah had a great deal to do about the
house, and Roxy and Susie got hold of some old
picture-books, a great heap of them, more than
they could have gone through in one day.
Bi was left to himself, therefore, for Piney would
not be home till nearly four o'clock, and so he took
his cousin's advice, got out his rod and fishing-
tackle, and started for the lake. When at last
Piney did come home, he asked where Bi was, and
when Aunt Keziah told him, he said: "I 'm glad
of it. I 'm going right upstairs to my room."
Why, Piney, you 're not sick?"
Almost sick of algebra. One of these prob-
lems has just about stuck me. I can't make
it go, and I wont give it up. What if it was given
to me on Examination day? Besides, I wont be
beaten, any way, by a lot of mere equations and
roots and things."
That's you, Piney, my boy," said Aunt Keziah,
earnestly. Never do you give up, so long as you
Aunt Keziah was one of the people who do not
give up very easily, and Piney's rosy face looked a
good deal as if he were another.
But all that while Bi had been having the boat
to himself, and the lake, too, for that matter.
Somehow, after he found himself floating off





alone, he did not seem to care whether he caught
any fish or not.
"Don't believe they bite much at this time of
day," he said to himself, as he leaned over and
looked down into the water. Besides, it 's bet-
ter fun to paddle along and see things."
It was a quiet kind of fun, but there was plenty
of it and it did ndt call for any very hard work.
The scow slipped along over the water quite easily.
Now and then, Bi stopped rowing entirely, and just
let her float. Away up over his head, a great hen-
hawk was sailing around in wide, slow circles,
watching the earth for prey of some sort. Some
crows were cawing from the opposite shore. On a
dead limb of a tree, that leaned from the nearest
bank, a kingfisher sat peering down into the water.
A little farther on, he could see three good-sized
snapping-turtles, sunning themselves on the same
half-sunken log. Twice, already, he had seen a
musk-rat put his nose above water, and he had won-
dered what it could be.
"There," he suddenly exclaimed, that pickerel
sprang clear out of the water. Must have been after
a fly. Is n't this great, now? Why, I 'm drifting
away down the lake."
So he was, and that did not mean going very far,
for the lake was but little more than a mile long,
and hardly more than half as wide. It was very
irregular in shape, and there was quite a stretch of
marsh, with bushes and flags growing all over it, at
the southern end.
That was where Piney had told him there was
always good rabbit shooting in winter, and he
pulled away to have a look at it.
Pretty soon he came to a sort of opening, and
he steered the scow right in. It grew narrower, till it
was little more than a hundred feet wide.
"I know what it is," he exclaimed, at last.
SThis is where the river goes out. I 'll push right
on down."
It was grand fun. Bi had hardly ever felt
more excited. It seemed to him a good deal as if
he had discovered that river, and he thought of
Hendrick Hudson, and De Soto, and Christopher
Columbus, and John C. Fremont, and a great many
other explorers.
What fun it would be to find the north pole,"
he said to himself. Only I 'd like to go there on
a June day, and be sure of getting back in time for
But it was soon very plain to Bi that he had got
out into the river, for the water now ran pretty fast,
and was shallow, especially in some places.
Wonder if this would n't be a good place to
fish," he said to himself. "I 'll try it, anyhow.
It 's a wonderfully lonely place."
Bi had hit it. That was one of the best fishing-

grounds around the lake, at that time of day, and
he was fairly delighted with his success. To be
sure, he caught a great many shiners, not more
than eight inches long, and bull-heads and pump-
kin-seeds. Then, up came a sucker that weighed
more than a pound. Then, some very good yellow
perch, and the largest bull-head he had seen since
he came. And then he was puzzled, for his next
capture was an eel. Such a wriggler i
Hardly was the eel over the side of the boat be-
fore it had itself all tangled up in the line, and it
seemed to have no idea of lying still to have the
hook taken out of its mouth.
I never want to catch another," said Bi. Be
quiet, wont you! There,-I 've got my foot on
That was about the only way he could have done
it, and the moment the hook was out, the eel
seemed to get over all the bottom of the scow,
every which way, in a twinkling.
They 're good to eat," he said; "but I wish I
knew how to bait my hook so they would n't touch
That was one thing he did not know, however,
and it is to be doubted if even Piney could have
told him; and three times more, before he pulled
up the anchor of his boat, he had to bother ever so
long in taking off an eel. He hurt his fingers a
little, too, on some of his bull-heads, but he did not
mind that much.
About five o'clock, Bi started home. Roxy and
Susie were at the landing, waiting for him. They
had wearied of their picture-books, and had come
out for a romp.
Cousin Bi !" shouted Roxy, it 's almost sup-
per-time, and I was afraid you 'd lost yourself."
O, no," said Bi, as he pulled to the landing,
" I did n't lose myself. I caught some fish.
What do you think of that?" asked Bi, as they
looked into the boat.
"Why, you caught some eels," said Roxy.
" Look at 'em, Susie; they 're just like snakes, and
they '11 slip right away from you."
They 're dreadful creatures," said Susie.
"Wait, Bi," said Roxy ; I 'll run to the kitchen
for a pan."
0 yes, please do," he said; but she was off
like a little curly-headed flash, and was back again
by the time he had fastened his boat, and began to
pick over his fish.
How can I ever pick up those eels! he ex-
O, Piney picks 'em right up," said Roxy. "It's
just as easy."
How does he do it, I 'd like to know ?"
"Why, anybody knows that. He just gets his
hands all covered with sand, and then the eels



don't slip. It's because they slip so, that you can't
catch 'em. That 's all."
Sand And I never thought of that. Of
course it 'll do."
And it did, but, even with sand to help him, Bi
declared he would rather be set at some other kind
of work than picking up eels.
The horrid things," said Susie, they wont lie
still now they 're dead."


TUESDAY and Wednesday passed pleasantly, but
very quietly, at the farm-house.
The older people from the city had come there to
rest, and were inclined to take it, now they were
there, while the younger ones found plenty to amuse
themselves with, out-of-doors.
Every now and then Roxy would say, Wait till
Piney's vacation comes," but just what would hap-
pen then, she never attempted to tell.
He, himself, was wrestling all the while with his
preparations for Examination. So much, that he
told Kyle Wilbur he had had no chance to practice
his piece at all.
"I 've worked at mine," said Kyle, "I dreamed
I was blown up, last night, and what do you think
it was ?"
Can't guess," said Piney.
Why, I'd looked around for my father, to ask if
I 'd got to stay on the burning deck, and I rolled
out of bed, thumped my head on the floor, andwoke
up the folks."
A good many calculations had been made on
what was to be done with that Thursday. Piney
had determined to give up his books, at last, and
devote himself to his cousins, all day long.
We 'd have a haying time," he said to Mary,
"but the clover field is all in, and they wont
begin cutting the big meadow till next week.
Then I '11 show you some fun. Bi and I are
going to the upper lakes. May be gone all day."
But when the people at the farm-house awoke
on Thursday morning, it was not the sunshine that
awakened them. Not a bit of it.
It was the heavy patter of rain on the shingles of
the roof, and the moment Aunt Keziah looked out
of her window, she said:
"I thought so. It wont clear up before the
middle of the afternoon, if it does then."
And, at the breakfast table, Roxy said to
Susie :
I don't know what on earth we '11 do with you
all to-day. Aunt Keziah says it's awful to have
so many people rained in at one house."
So it is," said Aunt Sarah. Elizabeth, what
shall we do with the children ? Picture-books ? "

"I'll fix 'em," said Piney. "We 'll make a
good day of it."
What can you do ? asked his mother.
"Do? Why, Mother, there 's the garret.
There 's more fun in it than we could use up in a
week. May we have the garret, Aunt Keziah ? "
Have it? Why, you may turn it all out on
the roof, if you '1 only keep the children out of the
kitchen and out of mischief. Take Bi and Mary
up there, too, and find them something to play
Both Biand Susie had looked at the rr. I. fii
enough, that morning, and Roxy had been in real
distress about her guests, but the mention of the
garret set their spirits all in motion again. Even
Cousin Mary had seemed a little blue, till she heard
her aunts and her mother discussing the relics of
ancient times, which Piney invited them all to ex-
You 'd better wear your old clothes," he said.
"The garret has as much dust in it as there is
on the south road. We'll be a nice-looking lot
before we get through with it."
Roxy was inclined to wonder, a little, for the
garret had been a sort of forbidden ground to her
and Chub. It was an enchanted island that they
were rarely permitted to land on, and then, not to
stay long.
Oh, Susie," she exclaimed, I 'd rather play
in that garret than anywhere else in the world.
We must take our dolls up there."
"Our dolls? What for?"
Oh, to dress 'em up. There's just the splen-
didest lot of old clothes you ever saw! "
And so, not a great while after breakfast, Piney
led the way, and called on the rest to follow.
Back, through the dining-room and sitting-room
and into the kitchen.
"This is the old part'of the house," he said to
Bi. "The stairs go up into the garret from that
door in the corner."
Why, is it only in the second story! "
"The house has n't more than that, anywhere.
But you never climbed steeper stairs in your life."
"That's a fact," said Bi, when the door was
opened. "They're more like a ladder."
"I 'l1 look out for Chub," said Cousin Mary.
"What a pokerish flight of stairs! Were they
always as bad as this ? "
"Great-grandfather Hunter had nothing but a
ladder," said Piney. The old log-house that
stood here was a kind of fort. The Indians attacked
it once."
In the Indian war ? asked Mary.
O, no, it was n't war, exactly, but they quar-
reled with him. They were pretty near neighbors
then. All around him, and no Reservation."




It 's a wonder there was any reservation," said
Mary, as she slowly climbed the stairs, and helped
Chub to clamber beside her.
If the stairs were pokerish, so was the garret.
To be sure, there were two windows at the back,
and there had been two more in front, but the lat-
ter had been darkened forever when the front part
of the house was built, and the others had not been
washed for many a long day, and were glazed with

S" Why, it 's a cavalry saber. It 's a good deal
crookeder than they make 'em now."
"Crooked as a scythe. That came from a
trooper in Burgoyne's army."
Did he have any cavalry ?"
Can't say. But, then, there 's the sword.
Here 's another."
This was a straight-pointed sword, with a three-
cornered blade and no edge.


small panes of greenish, old-fashioned glass. The
ceiling was the roof, with the rafters all uncovered,
and the rain was now pattering dismally on the shin-
"Cousin Mary," exclaimed Roxy, "can you
spin? Aunt Keziah can. That 's a spinning-
"Why, there are three or four of them," said
Mary. And that must be part of an old loom.
Mother says grandmother Merrill, that 's Aunt Ke-
ziah's mother, made all the linen and woolen cloth
she used till she was forty years old."
Yes," said Roxy, and she made the beautiful
rag-carpet in the dining-room. Piney says it 's a
regular B'ustles carpet."
0, but, Bi," shouted Piney, as she pulled some-
thing out of a corner, do you see that?"

S ll,.kcl, a' said Bi.
It's what the British infantry sergeants used
to wear. Tip-top for toasting bacon on."
But, Piney, what a gun that is I never saw
such a long barrel. And the end flares out like a
young bugle."
That 's a bell-muzzled fowling-piece. Our
folks used them on the British at Bunker Hill.
They 're great for ducks and geese. Put in any
amount of shot."
I 'd say you could," said Bi.
Roxy was whirling one of the great, wooden
spinning-wheels, to Susie's intense delight, and
Chub was pulling all sorts of queer things out of
odd corners.
What 's in those chests? asked Bi.
Grandmother's clothes," said Roxy, "and my
great-grandmother's, and lots of other things.
Some of them are pretty nice, too."
O, Piney !" shouted Roxy, "open them all

----- ---- --,--.. .




c~ I


right away, please, and let Susie and me dress
our dolls."
"All right," said Piney, and in a few minutes
more the floor was covered with ancient treasures
of millinery and dress-making.
Mary Hunter had quite enough of her father's
liking for antiquities to take an interest in such
matters, and she helped the children dress their
dolls in a way that might have made a cat laugh.
There were cases of old account-books and papers
of all sorts. Bushels of old letters. Old hats and
bonnets. One large, hair-covered trunk, was al-
most full of old tools, and Piney and Bi ransacked
them with a will. Hour after hour went past, till
Piney suddenly exclaimed: Now, cousin Mary,
let's all dress up and go down-stairs."
"What fun!" said Mary. "We 'll dress the
children, too, and carry the dolls with us."
So they did, and a wonderful set of Guys they
made of themselves. Perhaps the funniest figure,
except the dolls, was Chub, in an old army uniform
coat, that almost covered him up.
As for Mary,-in a green silk dress of her great-
grandmother's and a coal-scuttle bonnet, and with
a yellow sash around her waist, and huge, dirty
"elbow-gloves" on,-all she needed was a pair of
horn-rimmed spectacles, that Piney fished up for
her out of the tool-chest. When they were all
ready, the one remaining difficulty was to get down
those steep and narrow stairs without falling. Bi
and Piney managed it for them, however, in spite
of the queer toggery they had on, although Bi had
girded himself with the saber, and Piney was armed
with the straight sword and the big fowling-piece.
Mary carried Roxy's great rag-doll in her arms,
and there had never before been such a procession
seen in that house, as they made when they went
through the kitchen into the dining-room.
Nobody was there, and Mary said, half choking
with laughter:
They must all be in the front parlor. Let 's
march right in."
Forward march," said Piney.
They were all there, sure enough.
Grandfather Hunter and Uncle Liph and Aunt
Sarah and Piney's mother and Aunt Keziah, and,
besides them, there was a tall, pleasant-looking
gentleman, who sprang to his feet as the proces-
sion entered, exclaiming:
Bless me!"
There was no help for it; everybody had to
laugh. Even the strange gentleman laughed,
i i..... 1i Roxy said, afterward, she was sure she
saw him trying not to.
But Mary Hunter forgot she was carrying the
rag-baby, for she dropped it on the floor, and said:
Mr. Sadler when did you come ? "

And he stepped forward very politely, and said:
I wanted to see your father on some important
business. Came in by the stage, and had myself
driven right over. It 's a rainy day, Miss Hunter."

MARY HUNTER said something or other, not
very distinctly, as she stooped to pick up the rag-
baby; but when she arose, she stepped forward in
a very stately way, with it in her arms, and sat
down in a big rocking-chair.
All the rest were in fits of laughter over the chil-
dren. Roxy said:
Uncle Liph, don't you see? Susie and I are
both our grandmothers."
"What a mess you must have made in that
garret," remarked Aunt Keziah, but Piney said:
Yes, it 's dreadful. The dust wont settle in a
week. Bi, how does that hat feel? It is n't ex-
actly a city hat."
"No," said Bi. "I wonder where it was
made? "
It must feel like a helmet," said Uncle Liph.
What 's a helmet ? asked Roxy.
It 's an iron hat. When you come to see me,
I 'll show you one."
An iron hat!'" exclaimed Roxy. How they
must have hurt."
"But then they did n't wear out," said Susie,
" and they did n't bend if anybody sat down on
"It 's pretty near dinner-time," said Aunt
Keziah. Mary, my grandmother never came to
dinner with her bonnet on."
Then I '11 go and put mine away," said Mary.
Come on, Bi," said Piney. "If my face is as
dusty as yours, we 'd both better try some soap
and water."
That was what the children needed, too, very
much, indeed, and they were all marched out of
the parlor, not forgetting the dolls.
Piney and Bi were back in the parlor before the
rest, and when Mary Hunter came in, Piney whis-
pered: "Is n't she pretty, Bi? I never saw her
look so well before."
That was a merry dinner party, in spite of the
rain that was still pouring down over everything
out-of-doors. Uncle Liph seemed to be in high
spirits, and Grandfather Hunter told a story of
how the ladies and gentlemen were dressed on his
wedding day.
The people around the table seemed ready to
laugh at anything, but Piney was a little sober
over the prospects for the rest of the day.
What should he contrive for amusement?
He need not have troubled himself about Roxy




and Susie and Chub, for they were almost ready
to leave their pie, to get back to their dolls and
their wonderful new, old dresses. Mary herself
began to help them, after dinner, but Aunt Sarah
made her stop and go to the parlor to play and


sing. That was after Mr. Sadler had had a talk
about "business" with Uncle Liph.
Is it anything serious ? Aunt Sarah had
asked, when Uncle Liph met her in the hall, and
he had said, with a queer smile:
"A trifle serious, my dear, but not very bad.
I think we must keep Sadler here for a few days.
I '11 talk with you about the business, by and by."
Aunt Sarah smiled, too, as if she were glad there

was nothing serious, and glad to have Mr. Sadler
visit at the farm-house.
Bi," said Piney, as soon as he saw how nicely
everything was going on without his help, let us
have a game of chess. I 've a set of men, and a
I 'm ready. Chess is just the thing for a
rainy day."
So they played, in a corner of the back parlor,
until, about the middle of the afternoon, there was
a sound of giggling and of rustling silk on the hall
stairs, and Piney said :
"Checkmate in two moves, Bi. Let 's see
what 's up."
All right," said Bi. You can beat me, any-
how. I must get me a book and study up my
Something was about to happen, and Roxy was
at the bottom of it. Piney felt sure of that, but
he could not have guessed what it was. A little
while before, Roxy had suddenly dropped her doll,
exclaiming: Oh, Susie, I have n't practiced my
piece since you came."
"Your piece ? What 's that ? "
"Oh, for the exhibition, next Saturday Did n't
you know I went to school to the academy ?"
"Why, you don't go with Piney?"
Sometimes I do; but not in the last week. I
don't go regular, but I 'm to speak my piece
That was about it, for Roxy had arranged the
matter for herself a few weeks before with the
young lady "principal" of the girls' department
of the academy.
"Well," said Susie, "speak it now, and Chub
and I '11 hear it."
Yes, but I don't mean here. I '11 dress up and
go and speak it in the parlor to all the folks."
How will you dress up ? Is it that kind of a
It's The Breaking Waves,' said Roxy, and
it 's the best piece in the world. Aunt Keziah
wanted me to learn another, but I wanted 'The
Breaking Waves.'"
I never heard it," said Susie.
Did n't you? Don't they know it in the city?
Well, Cousin Mary left that green silk dress on the
floor in her room, and she threw the big bonnet
away into the corner."
"Are the spectacles there?"
"No; they 're scattered out in the hall, I guess.
But I don't want them ; I only want the dress and
the bonnet."
Susie was quite ready to help in an affair of that
kind, and Chub danced all around them while
Roxy was putting on the things. She was almost
hidden under so much dress and bonnet, and Susie

497 -t-




said: Long trails are just the fashion, but you '11
have the longest trail in all the world."
Very likely she had, for a lady of her size.
The older people had once more seated them-
selves in the front parlor, just as Roxy and Susie
and Chub came down the stairs, and Mr. Sadler
was spreading out some new music on the piano.
It was some he had brought with him, and he was
That's old, but it 's pretty. It 's The Rainy
Day'-" here he was interrupted by the voice of
Roxy, in the middle of the room behind him:

"The breaking waves dashed high,
On a stern and rock-bound coast,
And the woods against a stormy sky
Their giant branches tossed;
And the heavy nigh tongue dark,
The hills and waters sore-"

But at that point poor Roxy was interrupted by
peals of laughter all around the room.
Roxy looked behind her.
Chub, you naughty boy, get off from my trail.
You make them all laugh. It '11 spoil my piece."
For there he was, tetering" on the skirt of the

green silk on his tiptoes, and poking out his little
hands in imitation of Roxy's gestures.
Then she turned around and tried to go on, but
Chub only stepped off the train to come in front of
her, and put his fat little face away inside of the
scoop-shovel bonnet. And then, all that the rest
could hear, was something about the wild New
England shore."
Then Roxy herself began to laugh, for it was all
too funny for anything, but she was a little vexed
about her piece, and she said: Mamma, I could
say it if Chub would keep away."
Come here, Chub," said his mother.
0, yes," exclaimed Cousin Mary, do let us
have the whole of it. Go on, Roxy, dear."
I 't go on," said Roxy, "but I guess you
could n't speak very well, with somebody poking his
face under your bonnet."
Still, Roxy felt encouraged to go on, and she
recited the whole of The Landing of the Pilgrim
Fathers," with only here and there a few changes
in the words. And I think that if one of the veri-
table Pilgrims had tried to recite it, with that dress
and bonnet on, he probably would have skipped
some of the words, or changed them.

(To be coiuind ed.)



(See Froinfizpece.)

UNSTRUNG by her heart's first sorrow,
In the dawn of her life she stands,
With listless fingers holding
A vacant nest in her hands.

The grass at her feet no longer
Is bright with the light of the skies,
As downward she looks through the tear-drops
That stand in her heaven-blue eyes.

For the nest, so cold and forsaken,
Has taught her the lesson to-day,
That the dearest of earthly treasures
Have wings and can fly away.

Yet she clings to the empty casket,
And sighs that no more is left,-
As a mother clings to the cradle
Of its dimpled treasure bereft.

Alas for the early shadows
That fall about our way,
When the beautiful light has vanished,
And the hill-tops are cold and gray!








\I ''

IT is a pleasant sensation to sit in the first spring
sunshine and feel the steady pull of a good kite
upon the string, and watch its graceful movements
as it sways from side to side, ever mounting higher
and higher, as if impatient to free itself and soar
away amid the clouds. The pleasure is, however,
greatly enhanced by the knowledge that the object
skimming so bird-like and beautifully through the
air is a kite of your own manufacture. I propose
to tell you how to make some new kinds of kites,
and the first and chief of these is the

To make this you will require four sticks, some
rattan and some tissue paper. In regard to his

size, I would suggest that the larger the man is,
the better he will fly. Now let us suppose you are
going to make this fellow four feet high. First, cut
two straight sticks three feet nine inches long;
these are to serve for the legs and body; cut
another straight stick two and one-half feet in
length for the spine, and a fourth stick, three feet
five inches long, for the arms. For the head select
a light piece of split rattan,-any light, tough wood
that will bend readily will do,-bend this in a circle
eight inches in diameter, fasten it securely to one


end of the spine by binding it with strong thread,
being careful that the spine runs exactly through
the center of the circle. Next find the exact center

I' /



;* P
/ ,'*


of the arm-stick, and with a pin or small tack
fasten it at this point to the spine, two inches be-
low the chin. After
wrapping the joint tight-
ly with strong thread,
lay the part of the skel-
eton which is finished
flat upon the floor, mark
two points upon the arm-
sticks for the shoulder-
joints, each seven inches
from the intersection of
the spine and arm-stick,
which will place them
fourteen inches apart.
At these points fasten
with a pin the two long
sticks, that are to serve
for the body and legs.
Now cross these sticks
as shown in diagram,
being careful that the
terminations of the lower

limbs are at least three
feet apart; the waist-
joint ought then to be
about ten inches below
the arm-stick. After tak-
ing the greatest pains to
see that the arm-stick is perfectly at right angles
with the spine, fasten all the joints securely. Upon
the arms bind oblong loops of rattan, or of the same
material as the head-frame. These hand-loops
ought to be about three inches broad at their
widest parts, and exact counterparts of each other.
The loops for the feet must approach as nearly as

possible the shape of feet, and these, too, must be
exactly alike, or the kite will be "lopsided," or

unequally balanced. Now cut two sticks three
inches long, and two others four inches long, for
the ends of sleeves and bottoms of trousers; fasten
them on as shown in the illustration.

Now the strings must be put on, as shown
by the dotted lines in the diagram, at equal dis-
tances from the spine and about seven inches


/I \o
of 'O

apart. Tie two strings to the arm-sticks, extend
them slantingly to the head, and fasten them.
Take another thread and fasten to the top of cross-
stick of right arm, pass it over and take a wrap
around the spine, continue it to top of cross-stick
upon left arm, and there tie it. Fasten another
string to bottom of cross-stick on right arm, draw





/ --_ _-,--/

it tight and wrap it on spine four inches below in-
tersection of arm-stick, pass it on to the bottom of
cross-stick on left arni, draw taut and fasten it.
Tie the body-string at the right shoulder-joint,
drop the thread down to a point exactly opposite
the termination of spine upon the right leg, take a

inches from the intersection of spine, extend it
down in a straight line to inside end of cross-stick
of left limb and fasten it there. Tie another string
at a point one inch and a half to the left of spine
upon right arm-stick, extend it down in a straight
line to outside end of cross-stick of left limb. Go

wrap, and draw the line across to point upon left
leg exactly opposite, bind it there, then bring it up
to left shoulder-joint and tie it. For the trousers,
fasten a string at a point on right arm-stick, eleven

through the same process for right leg of trousers,
and the frame-work will be complete.
Now paste some sheets of tissue-paper together,
red for the trousers, hands and face, blue for the






coat, and black, or some dark color, for the feet.
In pasting, do not make the seams, or overlaps, of
the paper more than half an inch wide, and measure
the paper so that the coat will join the trousers at the
right spot. When you are satisfied that this is all
right, lay the paper
smoothly on the floor,
and place the frame of
the kite upon it, using
heavy books or paper-
weights to hold it in
place. Then with apair
of scissors cut the paper
around the frame, leav-
ing a clear edge of half
an inch, and making a
slit through the margin
at each angle; cover the
margins with paste, turn
them over, and with a
towel or an old rag press
them down. After the
kite is all pasted and
dry, take a large paint-
brush, and with black
marking-paint or india
ink, put in the buttons
and binding o:, L...i
with a good broad r..._.
The face and ha: r i,.i:r
be painted with
broad lines, so
that they may
be seen clear-
ly at a great
height. Follow
this rule wher-
ever youhaveto q
use paint upon -' -
any kindof kite. L .


allow a candle to fit between them firmly. Make
of rattan or wire a light hoop of the same diameter
as the bottom-piece; fasten these to a strap or
handle of wood, or wire,
as shown in the diagram /

is a paper lan- ~ b ----
tern attached -------
to the tail of ---
any large kite. -- --
A Chinese lan-
tern will answer
this purpose, KITE TIME.
although it is
generally so long and narrow that the motion of on page 422, and cover the body of the lantern
the kite is apt to set fire to it. with red tissue paper.
To make a more suitable lantern, take a circular This lantern, fastened to the tail of a large kite
piece of light board five inches in diameter, drive that is sent up on a dark night, will go bobbing
three nails in the center, just far enough apart to around in a most eccentric and apparently unac-





countable manner, striking with wonder all observ-
ers not in the secret.
though differing in form, is made after the same
method as the man kite, and with the aid of the
diagram on page 422, any boy can build one if he is
careful to keep the proper proportions, making the
width at the hips a little less than half the height.
The costume given, in the illustration may be
varied according to fancy, with the same frame-
work. A Dolly Varden or a Martha Washington
costume can be made. A blue overskirt and waist
covered with stars, and a red and white striped
skirt, give us Columbia or a Goddess of Liberty.
If you have been successful in making the fore-
going kite-patterns, you can try your skill in the
manufacture of the
This should be at least two feet high. It is
hardly necessary to go into the details of this kite,
as the diagram on page 422 shows Mr. Frog's
anatomy complete. By carefully following the
construction according to the diagrams, the aver-
age boy will, with a little ingenuity, be able to build
this, or in fact any of the kites here given, for ac-
companying each illustration is a complete plan of
the frame-work,-the solid lines representing the
sticks, the dotted lines the strings. Care must be
taken to select pliable wood, and make the parts
that require bending thinner than the rest of the
stick. In some parts of these new-fashioned kites,
especially if they be made on a small scale, thin
strips of rattan or whalebone will answer better
than wood. By the last diagram on page 422, you
can make a kite which will carry up five air-balloons.
Kites can be made without tails, but it is not
their natural condition, and as tailless kites are not
easy to fly, all these new ones should be fur-
nished with tails.
A tail made of string, weighted with bunches of
different colored paper tied at regular intervals,
is popular with many boys, but on account of its
liability to become tangled with the kite string or
twisted up in bunches, it is never used by the ac-
complished kite-flyer.
The most graceful, serviceable, and practical
kite-tail is made of rags torn in strips of from one
to two inches in width, according to the size of the
kite. This mention of the size of a kite recalls an
incident of my boyhood:
I remember, when quite a small boy, building
an immense man kite, seven feet high. It was a
gorgeous affair, with its brilliant red nose and
cheeks, blue coat, and striped trousers.

As you may imagine, I was nervous with anxiety
and excitement to see it fly. After several experi-
mental trials to get the tail rightly balanced, and
the breast-band properly adjusted, and having pro-
cured the strongest hempen twine to fly it with, I
went to the river-bank for the grand event.

My man flew splendidly; he required no run-
ning, no hoisting, no jerking of the string to assist
him. I had only to stand on the high bank and
let out the string, until my fingers were almost
blistered, so fast did the twine pass through my
hands. People began to stop and gaze at the
queer sight, as my man rose higher and higher,
when, suddenly, my intense pride and enjoyment
was changed into something very like fright.
The twine was nearly all paid out, when I found
that my man was stronger than his master, and I
could not hold him! Imagine, if you can, my dis-
may. I fancied myself being pulled from the




bank into the river, and skimming through the who had kindly come to the rescue, had con-
water at lightning speed, for, even in my fright, siderable trouble to hold it. The great kite,
swinging high in the blue sky,
attracted quite a crowd, and I
felt very grand about my new
flying-man; but my triumph
was short-lived. The tail made
of rags was too heavy to bear
A its own weight, and breaking
off near the kite, it fell to
l .,, '' / the ground, while my kite,
\ freed from this load, shot up
\ /like a rocket, then turned, and
Same headlong down with such
Force, that dashing through the
/ branches of a thorny locust-
Stree, it crashed to the ground,
I a mass of broken sticks and
tattered paper. So you see, kite-tails should
j,1 be strong.



the idea of letting go of the string did not once
occur to me. However, to my great relief, a man
standing near came to my assistance, just as the
stick upon which the twine had been wound, came



This kite is a most resplendent affair, and
glitters in the sunlight as if it were covered
with jewels. It is rather complicated to look
at, but not very difficult to make. The one I
have before me was made in China.
ORK. The top or horizontal stick (B, 1-2) is three
feet long, half an inch wide, and one-eighth
inch thick. The face can be simplified by using
a loop, as in the man kite. Two more loops, as
shown in the diagram (B), will serve as frames for


dancing up from the ground toward my hands. the wings. Paper is pasted upon this, and hangs
So hard did the kite-giant pull, that even the friend, loose like an apron in front below the cross-stick




(B, I-2), cut long enough to cover the first disk of
the tail-piece, as shown in the finished kite (A). This
head-piece is ornamented with brilliant colors, bits


of looking-glass pasted on or attached with strings,
so that they dangle loosely, etc.; this makes the
top rather heavy, as, in fact, it ought to be, for
then it serves to balance the tail, which, in this
instance, actually is the kite. This is a succession
of circular kites, ten
inches in diameter, A
and thirteen in 5
number, connected
with one another i s
by strings. At- P ^
tached to each of '-
these paper disks t-
is a slender piece of
reed or grass with a -ra-
tuftedhead; asimi-

lar tuft is fastened by a string to the opposite end
to balance it. The breast-band is made like that
upon an ordinary kite; the cross-strings, being



attached to the face at the top and bottom, inter-
sect each other about opposite a point between the
Diagram B 3 represents a single disk for tail,
showing where the reed and strings are at-
tached. B 4 is a
side view of two
disks, showing the
way in which they
are connected by
strings, six and a
I half inches space
S! being left between
each two disks. A
"'5 is a front view of
o finished kite.








Music and Words written for ST. NICHOLAS.

Min-nie and Win nie slept in a shell. Sleep, lit tie la dies And

~ _:_ -.-4

Sounds of the great sea wan-der'd a bout.

ral. .. -. .






x88o.] OUR MUSIC PAGE. 429

Ech o on ech o dies to the moon. Two bright stars peep'd
rail ............... al teml o.

in to the shell. "What are they dream-ing of? Who can tell?"

^ = = = = -^. *-

Start- ed a green lin net out of the croft: Wake, lit tle la dies, the
f a7 tempo con s irito. .
-I ---- ___---

sun is a loft

-- :^ ^ j- ~ ~t ~- ~-\ ~^- ~G l ~.


p Allegretto.

Dain-ty lit tie maid en, whith-er would you wan der, Whither from this pret ty home, the
Dain-ty lit tie maid en, whith-er would you wan der, Whither from this pret ty house, this

-- -
1 V.-r -' s'--------' ----- te a e^ f --- f -- = -- '

I ist ie. T zd ime. f

home where mother dwells ? [OMIT...............] Far and far away," said the dainty lit-tle maid-en;
[OMIT ..................] cit y house of ours ? Far and far away," said the dainty lit-tle maid-en ;


ric- u-las, an-ea- o -nes, Ros es and 11 ies, and Can-ter-bur y bells
__ -N -__ 8

"Far and far a-way," said the dain ty lit tie maid en. "All a-mong the gar dens, au -
"Far and far a-way," said the dain ty lit- tie maid en. "All a-mong the mea dows, the


clo-ver and the lem-a tis Dais ies and king-cups, and hon-ey-suck-le flowers"

S--.---- -------- -

,-\ -- -' H-i- 4 H- ___ |__
I =-j- -- --- P-a--ie ----- ---s --- -9- B--- --(--""~'='1-r




DID you ev-er see goats climb the mount-ains? They run up the
rock-y sides and a-long such lit-tle, nar-row places, that it seems, ev-er-y
min-ute, as if they would sure-ly roll off and be killed at the next step.
They will stop high, high up on a spot, where there does not seem to
be e-nough ground for their feet to rest up-on, and look a-round them as
qui-et-ly as if they were stand-ing in a field, and be-gin to nib-ble the
bits of grass near by. They are not at all a-fraid.
Little boys and girls, who live near, look up at them a-way up-ever
so high-and wish that they could climb as fast and well. Some-times,
if you saw a goat in such a place, you might won-der how he could
move at all; but, sud-den-ly, you would see him draw back his horn-y
head, bend his fore legs un-der his bod-y, and spring through the air from
one rock to an-oth-er, com-ing down, at last, safe and sound, up-on a
ledge as nar-row as the one he had left. But it would be more fun for
you to see them in the fields, where they can skip and play near you.
They are in a field in the pict-ure; but one of them is look-ing at
the mount-ains, I think. You can see how long and thick their hair is.
Those goats ly-ing down would make nice, soft pil-lows for your heads.
But these goats are not like those that you have seen at home. You
would have to go far a-way, to the oth-er side of the world, to a place
called An-go-ra, to find goats with long, silk-y, curl-y hair like that.
The hair of the cats, dogs and rab-bits, as well as of the goats that live
at that place, is very fine and soft.
It is ea-sy to make any goat tame and gen-tle. If you were to pet
and feed one for a few days, it would soon fol-low you a-bout, like
" Ma-ry's lit-tle lamb." They are al-most al-ways ver-y po-lite, too; if
you of-fer them e-ven an old piece of pa-per, they do not sniff at it and
turn a-way their heads, as dogs, or cats, or most oth-er pets would; but
they take it pret-ti-ly and eat it up, as if they were much o-bliged to
you for it.
Did you ev-er taste goat's milk ? It is ver-y nice, and good for lit-tle
ba-bies. Sick peo-ple oft-en drink it, be-cause it is bet-ter for them than
cow's milk. Once I knew two lit-tle girls, named An-nie and Ma-rie,
who went a-cross the big sea in a ship. Their pa-pa bought two goats,





,: 1, -,


11 -

s:- ~


which were put in a pen on board of the ship, and so went all the way
with the lit-tie girls. An-nie and Ma-rie had some of their milk ev-er-y
day, and they fed their pret-ty goats with bread.
The goats were named Muff" and Tuf-ty," and they were so glad
when the lit-tle girls came to see them, that they would lick their hands
and frol-ic as much as they could in the lit-tle pen. When An-nie and
Ma-rie left the ship, they gave Muff and Tuf-ty to a poor wom-an, who
led them home for her own lit-tle chil-dren to pet.



OP-PET-Y, hop-pet-y,- ho !
S Where shall the ba-by go ?
O-ver dale and down,
To Lim-er-ick town,
SAnd there shall the ba-by go.

I Hop-pet-y, hop-pet-y, ho!
S'. How shall the ba-by go?
In a coach and four,
And pos-si-bly more,
And so shall the ba-by go.

Hop-pet-y, hop-pet-y, ho!
When shall the ba-by go ?
In the aft-er-noon,
By the light of the moon,
And then shall the ba-by go.

Hop-pet-y, hop-pet-y, ho!
W/y shall the baby go?
To learn a new jig,
And to buy a new wig,
And that 's why the ba-by shall go.




i'' 'L**'* Jf-sN'-T 1' '. I
,I .. '.- ,.-


"MARCH," said one of the Red School-house
children, in a composition which I afterward heard
the Little Schoolma'am reading to Deacon Green,
-" March is a windy month, because it is the
month for flying kites." And he was right. March
is more interested in kites than you think, my lads.
It loves a good tussle with one as much as you do.
It plays with it, and teases it, at first, but that is
only its way. In a moment, if the kite is worth
anything, and the boy at the other end is alert,
you '11 see business.
"Look sharp, there!" says March, along the
string, telephone-fashion.
"Aye aye !" says the boy; and off goes the
kite-up, up, up, higher, steadier, with a long,
firm sweep, and a resolute pull, which grows stead-
ier as she grows smaller in the blue distance-
steadiest and strongest when she is a mere speck.
And dear old March jerks at the boy's coat, knocks
his hat off, rolls and laughs with joy in the dry
old grass, and, in every possible way, shows its
honest interest in the sport.
Yes, the school-boy was right. Now for our
budget. Talking of flying things-makes me feel
like giving you a bit of a sermon on

DEACON GREEN..sends this little tale about a
day-fly, which is an insect that lives but one day.
He says: There 's something in it for your am-
bitious youngsters, if they look carefully."
At the court of Kaliph Musa-al-Hadi lived an Arabian Sage who
understood the languages of all animals. One fine evening, he ob-
served on the leaves of a bush a colony of day-flies. One of these
little creatures sat on a leaf apart, i.;.-.i ,. -. ; .. ... .
The wisest ancients of our rac : : prophecy
that the world would not last longer than eighteen hours. I fear
they spoke the truth. For even during my lifetime the sun has sunk
nearer to the sea. Soon he must fall into the flood, his light will go
out, the earth will be in darkness, and all things will perish.

"Yet what a long life mine has been! I have seen whole genera-
tions rise, flourish, and pass away.
And what have I gained by all my care and labor ? What does
it profit me that I fought for my race, freed them, counselled them,
trained them? Nothing remains to me but fame. They tell me,
indeed, that my fame is very great and glorious; but of what use is
glory if the sun is to he put out so soon, and if the world is to return,
presently, to chaos? Ah sighed the venerable day-fly, and just
then the light of the sunset flashed upon him a ruby glow,-"if I
could but count on a fame that should last thirty or forty hours-- "
Here the Arabian Sage interrupted him, saying: "As if the sun
would not rise upon another day!" and he laughed softly at the
strain in which the short-lived insect had been talking; but, quickly
checking himself, he added: Yet, after all, it is much the same with
mankind; and what great difference is there, in the end, between
hours and years ? "
THESE whistlers are never still, and they do little
else but whistle.
Yet they are not two-legged boys; indeed, they
have no legs at all. They are merely floats moored
near to rocks or shoals, or along channels, and
fitted with whistles. The up-and-down motion of
the waves sets aging a little machine that forces
air into a close box. From this box the air can-
not escape without blowing the whistle, and thus
warning shipmen of danger. This it does in night
and fog, as well as in bright weather; and the
rougher the water, the more surely will the ma-
chine work.
So, nowadays, storms which used to have noth-
ing but peril for the sailor, may be used to make
less doubtful his safe entry into port.

HERE 'S pleasant news about my friends, the car-
rier pigeons.
It seems, there is a country doctor in England
who takes several of these wise birds with him
when visiting his patients. If medicine is needed,
he writes on a piece of paper what is wanted, giving
the patient's address; then he ties the paper to the
pigeon, and lets it go. The bird flies right to the
doctor's house; the physic is made up then and
there, by an assistant, and is sent off at once to the
sick person, thus saving a deal of precious time.
If the doctor fears there may be a serious change
in his patient's condition before the time set for the
next visit, he leaves a bird, to be sent back to him
with a message in case of need.
Useful creatures, these carrier pigeons,-a sort
of winged and feathered telegraph I

SCARCELY had your Jack closed his February
budget, in which there was mention of red snow,
when one of his gray-beard scientific youngsters"
sent in this information about red rain:
Says he: "There is red rain as well as red
snow, and it has been known to fall upon vessels
sailing near the west coast of Africa, and also, but
seldom, upon countries in the south of Europe. It is
a grayish and reddish dust, mingled with rain, and
the color seems to be due to oxide of iron, which is
iron rust. But where on earth this comes from no
one has found out, and men who know about such
things, think it does n't come from anywhere on
earth, but from somewhere beyond."
He adds: Once, when red rain was falling in




Italy, red snow was falling on the Alps." Now,
this may account for our Sierra Nevada red snow
also; but then, again, it may not, and in a matter
like this, it is well to bear in mind that one
does n't always know what he has n't found out."

THE Trailing Cedar, my polite young friends, is
an example of "handsome is that handsome does."
The Russians call it Kedrevnik, and of all queer
trees, it is about the
queerest, for it never
stands erect, but grows I
under the snow, cover--
ing the ground with a
net-work of gnarled, ''
twisted and interlock-
ing trunks, and general- .'-# .- I _f
ly choosing to grow on l'
the most desolate plains .
*and mountain-sides. It ,
is almost the only fire- -
wood in its cheerful,
home, north-eastern Si- -
beria, and without it
men could n't live there. ,
What puzzles your -
Jack is, that men should
ever even try to live in
such a dreary country
as that must be. .
but what is a sea robin,
my profound young. -
ichthyologists? ? ''" --- f
"Why, it's a bird, of --
course, Mr. Jack," says
Master Johnny So-and-
so, jumping up smartly.
But your Jack once
heard the Little School- -
ma'am say to Deacon .
Green: ": Little Johnny .
sometimes knows more -
to-day than he will -
know to-morrow." I -
So, my plodders, let
usbecareful. And, now, --
look at this picture.
In it you can see --
some sea robins, and .
also some winged creat- '
ures that live in the
air. But the question TTE S
is,-Which are which? For there seem to be
butterflies in the water as well as in the air !
Well, the fact is, that sea robins are fishes, and
they have very large front or pectoral fins, marked
with black and bright yellow; so, when the creat-
ures go sailing through the water with their wing-
like fins spread out, they have the look of butter-
flies, especially if seen end first. Some of them
are as big as robins, and perhaps that is why they




got their name. They like to stay at the bottom
of the sea, where they find the shell-fish, on which
they live; and there you probably will find them,
if you pay them a visit. The Little Schoolma'am
says that, some time ago, she saw some sea robins,
with other fishes, in a big sea-water tank, which
was in the great Aquarium at New York.

DEAR JACK: Your other chicks may like to know this, which I
have just read, about queer
ways of greeting among foreign
Moors gallop on their horses
to meet a stranger, as if they
were going to ride him down;
then they stop suddenly, and
fire a pistol over his head.
-'. [ Arabs of high rank kiss each
S other on the cheek, inquire
S many times about the health of
SL ..one another, and then kiss their
own hands In the desert, the
'-' Arabs, when they meet, shake
--- hands six or eight times.
-n the Society and Friendly
-- Islands, it is the polite thing to
rub noses together. In some of
-: --the South Sea Islands, where
people dress very scantily, the
most courteous thing a man can
do to his friend, on meeting, is to
S.. -throw a little cold water over him,
-a cool, but cordial, greeting.
In Japan, the inferior, meet
ing a superior, takes off his
Sandals, kneels down, and rocks
s lowly back and forth, saying:
"Augh l augh which means
=--- Do not hurt me In Siam,
if an inferior meets one of higher
',, rank, he throws himselfprostrate
on the ground. An attendant
S .. then goes to see if there is any-
thingdisagreeable about him. If
there is, he is kicked out of the
great man's road; but, if there
-is not, the attendant raises him
and lets him go on his way.
In America, one says, How
d' ye do?" The other, with-
cr r- -en n- says, How d'
-- .." I they pass on.
-it. -- R K B.



ON the mountains of
__. California grows a very
wonderful flower. It is a
.- twining hyacinth which
-- climbs up some bush or
other till it has reached
S the top, and, after rest-
ing a while to make sure
it has a good hold,
breaks loose from its
root, and goes on to
ND SEA ROBINS. spread out its lovely
pink blossoms just as though nothing curious
had happened. It carries on the business by it-
self, in fact, blooming and seeding all alone for
weeks and months, in spite of the sun that burns
by day and the air that chills by night. This
seems a little strange, my dears, but the infor-
mation comes from a good source. However, it
will do no harm to look further into the matter,
especially if you happen to be on the spot.





MIss MOFFAT saw a spider,
Who came and sat beside her,
And it frightened Miss Moffat away.

But she dreamed that night of a still greater fright.

For the spider grew and grew and grewd,

Till at last a youth beside her stood.

Poor Miss Moffat
Awoke with a scream;-
And that was the end
Of her terrible dream.


To THOSE of our readers who are surprised at seeing the song of
"The City Child" printed a second time in ST. NICHOLAS, we must
explain that the present is the corrected or revised version, which was
received from Mr. Tennyson after our February number was printed.
He writes us that the music is composed by Mrs. Tennyson; so, you
see, this pretty little song is sent you, as it were, directly from the
poet's own fireside,-the words of the Laureate set to music by his

OUR "open-air paper" this month will, we hope, prove a source of
practical pleasure to both boys and girls, for who does not enjoy fly-
ing or watching a graceful kite? Mr. Beard, who wrote the article
and drew the pictures for you, says that he himself has made and
practically tested all the kites described, and that he believes a bright
boy can easily make any one of them. We hope that all the boys

and girls to whom the "Snow Fort" and "Snow Building" papers
brought real delight in January and February, will find the "Kite
Time" article exactly the thing for this windy month of March.
There are other good papers in preparation, and each will appear just
when you are ready for the particular kind of work or play which it

A NEW SHORT DIALOGUE.-To all the boys and girls who have
asked for a good piece to speak as a dialogue, we would say: We
think you will find what you want in the poem entitled "Quite a
History," printed on page 348 of our February number. By chang-
ing "Philander" to Amanda" you make the questioner's speeches
suitable for a girl. The chances for gesture and elocution are capital.
The speakers might be dressed in old-time costumes. You can tell by
the punctuation and the sense where each speech begins and ends.




DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: In the January "Letter-Box" I saw a
description of a four-legged chicken, and, as I had one, two summers
ago, I thought that you might like to hear about it, too. il ..,1
that it was even more wonderful than R. H. S's., because it i I..
extra legs come from one joint, which came from under its wing, and
so it had three legs on one side, and one on the other. It died a mel-
ancholy death, being stepped on by one of its relatives. G. S. W.

Montclair, N. J.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : Will some of the readers of the Letter-
Box" please tell me when Australia was discovered ?-Yours affec-
tionately, Louis B. P.

BESSIE C. BARNEY asks where originated the expressions "as bold
as brass," "at sixes and sevens," and "ducks and drakes." Who
will answer her ?

IN answer to M. V. D.'s question in the January Letter-Box,"
O. C. Turner sends seven words,-Cion, Coercion, Epinicion, Inter-
necion, Ostracion, Pernicion, and Suspicion. Agnes L. Taylor, J.
W., and A. H. S. send each six of these; Wilmington," G. Meade
Emory, Ernest W. Clarke, and Geo. G. Hall, send each five of them:
Daisy E. Eastlake, Tranquillity," A. C. Averill, and Mary and
Annie Chamberlaine with Etta Williams, send three each; and
"Punch and Judy," S. G. C., and Bessie and her Cousin," send
two each.

DIVIDE the party into pairs, all standing in two opposite lines, as
in "Virginia Reel" or Contra Dance." Each side chooses a cap-
tain, and the captains choose an umpire, who sits at the end of the
lines by a table between the captains.
Each side has five bean-bags. The bags are of two colors;-say,
five-red and five blue. All the red bags are piled on the table before
one of the captains, and the blue ones are heaped in front of the other.
At a word of command from the umpire, each captain picks up bag
after bag from his (or her) own heap, and passes them one by one to
the next player of the line, who takes it with one hand, and with the
other passes it on to the third player. In this way, every bag is
passed down the line, from player to player, until it reaches the end,
when it must be laid on a chair, picked up, and passed back again,
up the line to the captain, who throws it on the table. When the
captain receives back the last bag, he holds it up high, for the umpire
to see.
The side which first gets all its bags back to its captain scores one
point; and there are ten points to a game. The interest is increased
by offering a prize to the winning side.

HERE is an epitaph written by a little boy of nine years:
Here lie the bodies of three tadpoles.
If you go to the pond you can catch them in shoals.
They were treated as well as tadpoles could be,
And yet they all died ungrateful-ly!

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I was told, lately, of a pretty little thing
which would give an air of dainty freshness to any room in city or
country homes, during the days of winter and early spring, when we
are longing for out-door greenness. So I thought other readers of
the "Letter-Box" might like to know of it also. Perhaps most of
us have tried growing grass seed in a pine cone set in a wine-glass
of water, and very successfully, too; but this plan is different.
Take a round plate,-any size desired,-put either sand or moss
upon it for a foundation, place in the center the largest cone, group-
ing around it other cones, graded according to size. If all are alike,
then heap up the oundae foundation n the middle, letting it slope down
toward the edge. When the cones are in place, sprinkle sand care-
fully, so as not to bury the tiny ones, should there be any. Then
moisten tl-. I ... :1 ,..d scatter freely over it either grass or flax-
seed; I :.i'.i :.: i If put on the mantel, above the furnace
register, or near a stove, and turned, now and then, so that all sides
may have an equal amount of heat, the seeds will soon sprout, and
the effect is said to be very beautiful when the cone has become a
mass of green. ThI plants grow so rapidly, if kept warm and moist,
that the cone ,. i .! 1I be far more satisfactory than many more
elaborate affairs.
Or if one should happen to have a rather flrt h-.-n5' b1u.-, r and
arrange the cones in the same way,-always .. ... -i... .ir ,I .. sand
in the center,-and planting lycopodium between the cones and

around the edges, to be twined according to taste, I am sure it would
make a lovely addition to a library or "living-room."
Of course, in the city, the difficulty is to obtain the cones, but there
may be some which have been gathered in summer ramblings; or if
there are no "country cousins" who would take such slight trouble
as to mail a box oftheir. i .. .....i. -...; the market people
who, for a mere trifle, .11 1, : -. i.i.
A city friend of mine gets the prettiest partridge-berry vines (mit-
chella) in this way, and these very vines would make a bright edging
for our plate.
My "dish-garden,"-for which I sent a recipe to the Letter-Box "
last year,-has done wonderfully this season, so many new ferns have
sprung up, and the partridge-berries are as fresh-looking as possible.
I believe the "secret" is in putting the plate near the stove every
night, so that the roots are kept warm, while the glass prevents the
moisture from escaping. And, before many weeks, I expect to be
rewarded for my care by the pure, snowy blossoms on the mitchella.

FANNIE E. LEWIS.-The piano-forte was invented early in the
eighteenth century, but by whom is not certain. The honor of being
the first inventor is claimed for Bartolomeo Cristofali, of Padua, Italy,
some time before the year 1711; for Marius, a Frenchman, in 1716;
and for SchrBter or Schrceder, a German, in x177.

THE BROTHER OF A SUBSCRIBER: "Bric-h-brac" is pronounced
in English as if spelled "brick-a-brack," and this is according to
Webster. In French, thepronunciation is similar; but the i is like
ee, short, and the last a is like a in father, also short.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Please ask in the "Letter-Box" why is it
that when a flat-iron is hot it smooths the clothes better than when
it is cold ?-Your constant reader, JosHUA C. HUBBARD.

SIDNEY STEINER: The original limits of Virginia were not exactly
defined. The name was first given, by Queen Elizabeth, to the
region (now North Carolina) discovered in 1584, by persons sent out
by Sir Walter Raleigh. Later, all the country in North America
between 350 N. and 45 N. was known as Virginia. In r6o7, the
first colony was founded on the James River, by persons belonging
to "The London Company of Merchant Adventurers." In 1609,
this Company's territory, named Virginia, was described in the grant
as comprising all that tract of country which extends from two hun-
dred miles north of Old Point Comfort, to two hundred miles south
ofit, and from the Atlantic Ocean to the Pacific.

Knoxville, Tenn.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I wish to ask, through t t the "Letter-Box,"
for a good book to teach me to draw, and where I can get it. I have
had but one drawing-book in my life, and it was a small one.-Yours
truly, J. B.
A good guide in learning g to draw i the "Vere Foster Complete
Course." It is arranged in easy grades through the various kinds
of drawing, and the designs given to copy were made by some of the
best artists of Great Britain. These drawing-books are sold separ-
ately, and can he ordered through any bookseller. The American
publishers are Charles Scribner's Sons, New York.

A LITTLE SCHOOLA'AI sends the "Letter-Box the "r- is composi-
tion, written by a little boy ten years old, all by himself:
This composition is going to be about a five-gallon crock, that I
fell into. I fell into it last night. It stood in the corner of the kitchen,
and they were going to put three thousand pickled onions in it,-if it
would hold 'em, but it would n't. It sould n't hold more than three
hundred. I went into the kitchen with Wallace to read. I was go-
ing to sit on the crock to read. I was n't looking, because I was
reading, so I thought the crock was bottom-side up. But when I sat
down, I went right in, and my knees went up to my forehead. I was
near smothered,-all that was out of the crock was my arms and
heels I could n't scream, for my coat was over my face; but I strug-
gled and kicked a good deal. I could n't see, either; but one of my
hands caught the pump-handle, and it made so much noise that
Mamma heard it. She was standing on the other side of the kitchen,
so she turned around, and saw my heels kicking. She waited awhile
-I should think about fifteen minutes-before she came to help me,
and I could hear her laughing. Then, when she came to me, she
could n't pull me out. So she tipped over the crock, and I came out
upon the floor. Then I stood up, and picked up my book. When I




fell into the crock, I let it drop on the floor. When I slipped in, I
thought I was going down into the cellar. I went into the library
after this, and did n't try to read in the kitchen any more. After I
went to bed, I heard Papa laughing, and I know Mai.,.. *. I I,,.
him about how 1 fell. I. : .i. -

THE publishers of a capital book, full of information for boys and
girls, wish to be able to give, in its future edition, a satisfactory answer
to a simple question, and have requested us to say that they will pre-
sent a copy of the book to the boy or girl who first sends the required
satisfactory answer to ST. NICHOLAS. The question is this: What
becomes of the dirt which the chipmunk throws out of his hole, or
that he does not throw out? No dirt can be found, and yet, how
does he make his hole without throwing out dirt?
Now, young folks, who will be the first? We leave the decision
in the hands of those who make the offer; but, as this magazine is
published in the interest of boys and girls and not of the publishers
referred to, we shall print neither the name of the book nor of the
house that issues it. The question is worth answering, though, and
the book is worth the trouble. As Jack-in-the-Pulpit would say,-
the matter is worth looking into.

DEAR ST. NICOL.AS: I would like to tell you about my white
mice and a cat. My uncle brought me seven white mice, and I let
them run around in a large box. Next door, a little girl has a cat,
and it comes over here very often. One day I missed some of my
mice and thought that the cat had eaten them. I put the rest in a
glass box, and let them run about the room very often. Two weeks
after I missed four more, and was sure of the cat. I gave the other
mouse away. One day, the little girl came running over and told me
to come and see her kittens. I went with her, and there in the gar-
ret, in an old basket, lay the cat and my six mice! When I took
them out, the cat cried and mewed so that the little girl gave me the
cat to take home with me. And now pussy and her mice live in a
basket by the stove, and uncle has promised the girl six mice like
mine.-Ever a reader, A. M.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Perhaps some of your readers will be inter-
ested in the following true story.-Yours, A. L. A. SMITH.
0 -.. -.-. ..._:-.....r ... 1 .. F -.-..1-man were boasting about their
r,, .. .:i ; ... o . was best, and had most words
from the same root, and most words with similar meanings. But the
Frenchman objected, and made the following verse in proof:
Quand un cordier, cordant, veut corder une corde,
Pour sa corde corder, trois cordons il accord;
Mais, si un des cordons de la corde decorde,
Le cordon decordant fait d6corder la corde."
The Englishman then set his wits to work, made a translation of
the Frenchman's rhyme, and, adding two stanzas on the same subject,
went off triumphant. Here is the Englishman's rhyme:
When a twister :,.r : i:.. will twist him a twist,
For the twisting i, he three twines doth entwist;
But if one of the twines of the twist do untwist,
The twine that untwisteth, untwisteth the twist.
Untwisting the twine that untwisted between,
He twirls with his twister the two in a twine;
Then twice having twisted the twines of the twine,
He twisteth the twine he had twisted in twain.
The twain that in twining before in the twine,
As twines were intwisted, he now doth entwine;
'Twixt the twain int'et ;i-n-" a twine more between,
He, twirling his r. .., : .. a twist of the twine."

THE answer to Geo. H.'s question in the January "Letter-Box"
is that Maoris" is a New Zealand word, meaning "native," and is
the name given to themselves by the inhabitants the earliest European
discoverers found there. Answers were received from Nellie De
Graff--Charlie W. Jerome-Mary H. J.-Lamira G.-Alla D.-Paul
A. Conn-Hubert S. W.-Maude A.-Arthur Meggett-L. B. P.-
Lottie Durand-Frank Skinner-Annie M. Foulks-Susie N. Swain
-Annie H. Wright-Blanche Howards-Harry M. Edwards-R.
Townsend McKeever-Alice C.-Nellie Niccolls-C. M. Andrews-
Virgie R. F.-A. H. S.-Constance M. Genry-Louise G. Hinsdale
Carrol L. Maxcy-J. T. K.-W. F.-Agnes E. Kennedy-Gertrude
Abbott-L. P. Waddell-"Pickwick"-F. J.-Amia McEwen-
Martin W. Sampson-Gertie Gaylord-Martha H.-"A Reader"-
Chas. P. Johnston-Chas. Ernest Hall-Netta Van Antwerp--S.
Fanny Waterhouse-Louisa Jackson-M. F.-Edith Chubb-Gussie
A. Smith-" Fannie"-Bertha D. Allen-Maria Hoydel-Jas. A.

Parker-A. C. Averill-and Florence Cleaves, who adds, the alpha-
bet of the Maoris has only fourteen letters, A, E, H, I, K, M, N, 0,
P, R, T, U, W, and Ng, and is well adapted to poetry." M. A. B.
and Caroline A. C. have misread, "hMceris" for Maoris."

THIS letter comes to us from a young member of the only American
family in Poitiers:
Poitiers, France.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I thought perhaps you would like to hear
... i1... .1 .r this old town of Potiers, as it is quite interesting.
i .. ...i.-. is very large, and one side of it hears the marks
Which Coligny's cannon made, when he fired upon the city, three
hundred years ago. On the side of the hill, opposite the cathedral,
there is a high, pointed rock, behind which Coligny stood to com-
mand the Protestant army.
Notre Dame is avery old church, on the Place du March6. In
this church there is an image of the Virgin, of which this curious
story is told, which your readers may believe or not, as they choose:
One night, when the English were encamped around the city, the
keeper of one of the gates made an arrangement with an English
officer to give him the keys of the city at midnight, and let the army
in. But when the gate-keeper went to get the keys, they were no-
where to be found. When daylight came, and people went to mass,
they saw the keys in the hands of this image of the Virgin. It is
said that in the night the Virgin appeared to the enemy, and fright-
ened them so much, that they began to kill each other, and the
French marched out and won the battle. In memory of this deliver-
ance, there is, every year now, a procession, in which the image is
carried to that gate, where there are religious ceremonies. Near the
Cathedral there is a very old _..' .-... calledd the Temple of St.
John, said to have belonged to tl .: i.... I.- Templar.
The Blossac is a park situated on the ancient ramparts, command-
ing a fine view of the river Clain, and the hills beyond. There is
much more to tell about this strange old city, but it would make my
letter too long, so I must close.
From your friend and constant reader, P. K.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Being much pleased witl. .. ...; called
"solitaire," I thought some of your other friends :....g i' ..- prob-
lem, and I send you one, as I owe much for the pleasure you have
given me.
The game is played on a board marked as follows:

4 5 6

7 8 9 to 0I .2 r3

t4 i5 16 17 18 19 o0

21 22 23 24 25 26 27

28 29 30

31 32 33
Problem: Place pennies or checkers on the numbers 3 ,8, 16,
18, 24 and 21, and proceed to move either at right angles or diagon-
ally, jumping a man at each move, so as to leave but one man.
Answer: 4 to 6, takes 5; 3 to I, takes 6; 1a to 25, takes 8; 25
to 23, takes 24; 8 to 24, takes x6; 24 to 22, takes 23; 2I to 23, takes
22; and leaves one. BENJ. T. DELAFIELD.

THE following letter comes from a Western State, where the boys
must go into business very early in life, if G. H. M. is a fair sample:
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little boy, ten years old; and, when
I was four, my mother and I went to New-York to visit my grand-
father, and he gave me one dollar. When I came home, my father
told me he would give me a heifer for the dollar and a year's work
for five cents a day. I said all right; and, after the year's work was
done, my father sold the cow, and, giving me the money, I bought a
four-year-old cow. After a while the cow had a calf; he grew to be
a yearling. By this time the cow had another calf. The first calf
grew to be a two-year-old, and I traded him for another cow. The
first cow had a c-I .in;., and he grew to be a yearling; and the
second cow had .. .. i sold two of the yearlings for twenty-three
dollars, and, besides, I had six dollars. I put this money to interest
for ten cents on a dollar a year. After a while my grandfather sent
me six dollars. I bought the finest cow and calf my father had. I
sold the first cow for twenty-seven dollars, I bought two pigs for
three dollars, and now I have traded my stock so that I have two
cows, two calves, two pigs, a pony and saddle, and twenty-four dol-
lars besides,-all in six years.-Yours truly, G. H. M.





I. ox A PRECIOUS stone of many hues. 2. A valuable timber tree.
3. The name of a girl, meaning "Grace." 4. Part of a book. II. .
A circle. 2. A metal. 3. Another name for a girl. 4. An insect.
III. i. A large assemblage of persons, generally in regular order. 2.
One of the United States. 3. Evil deeds. 4. A throw.

i. BEHEAD disloyalty, and leave the pride of mankind. 2. Behead
a course, and leave to stretch and strain. 3. Behead to drench, and
leave a tree of a certain kind. 4. Behead a quality belonging to all
substances which can be weighed, and leave a number. 5. Behead
an implement of warfare, and leave a sign of a thought. 6. Behead
small numbered cubes, and leave a product of hard frost. D.

IN each of the following anagrams, the letters used are just those
which spell the words defined, neither more nor fewer.
i. A nigger on a colt; definition, pertaining to a religious
assembly. 2. Anointed priest; definition, the act of foreordain-
ing events. 3. Ended in
pence; definition, self-main-
ter.,: : i..: ,i 1 ..

o at n, ,, i. .. ,, .. :. '' _-

had I. I .. ,,.. !

de .... ... __ :-,, '- u,

Pilgrims from the golden West,
One and all to me came bringing
Every rarest gift and best.
And they gazed upon my temples,
And they worshiped at my shrines,
And they bent before my columns
Flashing with historic lines;
And they viewed my gallant armies,
Saw their banners proudly wave,
Still recalling that Great Leader
Who his laws to Europe gave;
Then I decked them with my colors
Ere they took their homeward flight,
And adorned each child of genius
With a glittering order bright.
I vanished, and my people wept!
A fair land mourned its queen,
Kings threw aside their coronets,
And shield and helm were seen.
Then crowded vessels slowly sailed
Forth toward the rising sun;

THE four pictures in the above illustration stand for four words,
each of which, reading in the order of the pictures from left to right, is
spelled with all but one of the letters that make up the preceding
word. What are the four words? CYRIL DEANE.

BEHEAD and curtail the five words first defined, and leave a
i. A beverage. 2. A place where a fire may be made. 3. Per-
sons indispensable to theaters,-even without the second letter of
the required word. 4. Vapor. 5. What all men are apt to do.
Diamond: I. In elephant. 2. A small animal much disliked by
good housewives. 3. A person who puts things down carefully.
4. A plant whose chief use was first made known in China. 5. In
ardent. H. H. D.
THEY came from Oriental realms
And from the far Pacific strand,
They came from England's castles old,
And from the vine-clad Southern Land.
Monarchs proud and statesmen hoary,
Students grave and warriors bold,
Lovely Anglo-Saxon maidens
With red lips and locks -f 11
Fair Columbia's happy .'i -..1 ..,

.1I. ... .
sild Lllt biluW-LdllLb lie
No longer in the vale;
When the blue-bird sings
As she plumes her wings,
Or spreads her azure sail;
When blossoms fair
Beyond compare
With rose-mist veil the earth,
When all rejoice
That Winter's voice
Is hushed in glad Spring's mirth;
Then I come, ever pitiless,
With keen and shining blade,
0, violet blue and daisy bright,
Your grave too oft I 've made.
2. A lovely girl with strange, dark eyes,
Stands by the lonely shore,
Awaiting fondly, tenderly,
One who returns no more.
3, Drops as diamonds bright,
---;i ..:.._ waves of light,
i and glancing,
;-no-in- n- dancing,
J .. ,.. 1. ... h re s t
4. A famous Empress of the Orient
Who curious chess-men once to Charlemagne sent.
5, With cimeter, and turban green,
Adorned with jewel bright,
I dash forth to encounter him,
Proud England's bravest knight. M

t. I. S.





4. SLvPE; a hurt dog does it. 5. RUBASUT; a sweet-scented, much-
hunted flower. 6. PENISAL; a dog of a certain kind. P. F.

THESE three pict-
ures represent a coup-
let which urges a boy
to be studious.

WHAT AM I ? .? .--
I nAVE feet, but o o ..
legs and no toes. My r Tro -
feet are in constant .'
use, yet I can neither -B t .
run nor walk; and I
amneither quadruped
nor biped, though I
have been known to
stand upright. I have hands, fingers, and nails, but no arms.
Part of me is attached to nearly every dwelling-house, to a prison
or a church; and part of me, nay, my whole also in former times,
too often beat a lad. Men might use me as an arm of offense, for
want of a stouter weapon, but my right place and use are in
peaceful commerce.

A LL -
AR E -
IN this example, the initials and finals are to be found and added,
to complete the cross-words, each of which is given without the be-
ginning or the ending letter. When read in connection with each
other, the words spelled by the initials and finals name peculiar feat-
ures of the weather during late winter or early spring. T.

I AM a famous mot-
---- ;. > 0^-- j .--i-

S 4, 3, 5, 6 is loosed.
/ My 7, 8, 3, 14, 19, 20
- '.. ',I l is bound. My 9, lo,
S. II- c, 26,22is old. My
r9 -1, 34, 15, 3 isa lost
I .. ,,object. My8, 25, 16
^ ,,-, ,,. ,,.. -,L ,
,.9 r r' alike.
S- in certainly. 17, 1 is
in certainly. C.

IN each of the following groups, all the letters given are to be ar-
ranged so as to spell the word defined. Thus: CAERSU; found on a
tea-table. Answer, saucer.
I. PAPOLE: a city of Turkey in Asia. 2. NEGRA ; a home for
beautiful, silent friends. 3. PIGSPINK; a favorite pastime among girls.


PICTORIAL RIDDLE.-One shows the leaves, and the other leaves
the shows.-- NuMsERtCAL ENIGMA.-Mango-tree.
EASY WORD-SQUARE.-i. Corn. 2. Ohio. 3. Riot. 4. Note.
A PROVERB AMONG PROVERBS.-Better eat gray bread in your
: .' ,', ,n in your age.- RIDDLE.-A fence.
Si ... ACRosTIC.-Initials: Neap. Centrals: Olio. Finals:
Tide. Initials and Finals connected: Neap-Tide. Across: i. Not.
a. Eli. 3. Aid. 4. Poe.
-n, Wo- WORD.-i. Tomato. 2. Orator. 3. Martin. 4. Attila.
5. '.: 6. Ornate.-- CHARADE.-Omelet. (0-me-let.)
NUMERICAL DIAnOND.-i. C. 2. CUb. 3. 3CuBit 4. 4Bit. 5. T.

WORD SYNCOPATIONS.-I. M-us-uum. 2. S-top-ped. 3. T-
hank-ed. 4. No-ma-d. 5. Mo-nit-or. 6. Car-can-et.
ANAGRAM,--St. Valentine. Ist Stanza: Linnet, stave. 2nd
Stanza: Talents (di) vine. 3rd Stanza: Nettles, vain. 4th Stanza:
St. Valentine.- PUzzLE.--Love.
NankiN. 2. EriE. 3. WarsaW. 4. YoughioghenY. 5. OhiO. 6.
RochesteR. 7. KeokuK.
PROVERB ENIGMA.-Faint heart never won fair lady.

ANSWERS TO THE WORD-MAKING PUZZLE IN THE JANUARY NUMBER were received, before January 25, from Henry and Charles,-
Claire H. Pingrey-O. C. Turner-" The Stowe Family "-"J. W."-Bessie and her Cousin, all of whom made all the ... 1 ,. I
from Florence E. Pratt, 22-Pierre Jay, 5-William C. McLeod, 5-A. M. C., and L. L. C., 24-" Kew," 8-Daisy E. i TI i -- .. 1,.:
S. Conant, 13.
ANSWERS TO OTHER PUZZLES IN THE JANUARY NUMBER were received, before January 20, from Henry and Charles, 16 (all)-Carrie
Adler, i-Jennie, Cyddie, Eddie, i-Eddie C. Smith, 8-Barney L. Biggin, 12-Reta S. McIlvaine, 4-Bessie and her Cousin, 12-
Harry S. Myers, x-"Uncle Ned," x -Virginie Callmeyer, 6-Ethel Bangs, 2-Christie and Harry, -J. Wendel Bollman, 3-A. H.
S., --A. Castle Postley, 2-Mollie Marcus, ^--*- .. and Joe Lathrup, i-""Diamond and Pearl," 4-" Prince," 2-Jennie Heard, 2-
Gertrude and Wallie H., i-Gustav and Alber, -1 ,. a-J. B. Cooke, r-De Witt C. Weld, Jr., TO-F. J. Reynolds, i-Carrie and Edith
Townsend, 3-Carroll L. Maxcy, 6-Weston Bayley, ? i-Lizzie L. Van Liew, 7-Ella L. Bryan, x-Lizzie H. D. St. Vrain, 7-Netta
Van Antwerp, 5-M. R. B., --F. W. S., 2-Grace, 7-Lancelot M. Berkeley, 6-"Bunny," 2-"Blanke Family," 9-Clare, 3-Claire
H. i:.:..- :i -Jessie K. Bancroft, x-Charles Howes Hammond, x-Walter E. Lewis, 9-Asa T. Hascall, 6-Willie F. Dix, 3-W. and
C. ... *. 1.. I, 7-Laleah Fanny and Miller, : Hayden, 2-Belle and A. H. Laidlaw, 7-William C. McLeod, 3-M. F., 2-Annie
Reynes, 7-Sumner S. Bowman, i-Florence I -., 9-S. G. Atkinson, 5-Lillian A. and Edith M. Peck, 2-Frank P. Nugent, x-H.
and B., 9 -Alice C. Boyd, --Jessie D. Shuler and Emma W. Myers, 6-" h ner-- --" Jeanie," 3-Lulu Crabb and Gracie Hewlett, 5
-0. C. Turner, 13-Sallie R. Marshall, 3-Bessie C. Barney, 2-Daisy i i .' ., 8-T. Bolenius, 3-" Luna," o--" The Stowe
!:...i 4-John W i. I x-" Riddlers," 4-Hattie and Clara, 7-Wa,..-:-. ii ....: c 5-"Grace," 2-Mary Speiden, 4-Daisy B.
0i i. .-, x--Agnes 1 ..I... 4-Robert Allen C-ii -- Ti, 4--NI. i... T -William L. Stiles, i-Ida Cohn, 7-Lucy E.
. .11. ,. ~-"J W.," Xo-Edward Vultee, 8- r ....., ,' --lom Reed, -i:..'.. .--C. .. -1 Carleton Woodruff, 2-
A. M. C.,and L. L. C., 5-"Santa Claus," i-M. H. I., 8-Mollie Donohoe, 3-Lottie A. -- .... Guessers," -Willie S.
Conant, so--" Kew," 5-" Impatieus," 14. The numerals denote the number of puzzles solved.
ANSWERS TO DECEMBER PUZZLES were received late from Dycle Wurden, and S. Moon, England, and from Tom Spear, Oakland, Cal.




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r e ar .' S ion 69'
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