Front Cover
 Front Matter
 How Bobby's velocipede ran...
 Fourth of July at Tom Elliot's...
 A day under-ground
 The story of a bad bird
 Rock-a-bye, baby!
 Captain Sarah Bates
 Stories of art and artists: Fourth...
 My aunt's squirrels
 Phaeton Rogers
 How to stock and keep a fresh-water...
 Le marchand de coco
 Saltillo boys
 Molly Mogg and Lucy Lee
 In nature's wonderland; or, Adventures...
 Eugenio Mauricio Dengremont
 Dog lost!
 The major's big-talk stories
 To make a net without a needle
 The star-spangled banner
 The five cats
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Matter
 Back Cover

Group Title: St. Nicholas.
Title: Saint Nicholas: Vol. 8, no. 9. July 1881.
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00103
 Material Information
Title: Saint Nicholas: Vol. 8, no. 9. July 1881.
Series Title: St. Nicholas.
Uniform Title: Saint Nicholas: Vol. 8, no. 9
Alternate Title: Saint Nicholas
Physical Description: 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Publisher: Scribner,
Publication Date: July 1881
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: VID00103
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
    How Bobby's velocipede ran away
        Page 657
        Page 658
        Page 659
    Fourth of July at Tom Elliot's house
        Page 660
        Page 661
        Page 662
    A day under-ground
        Page 663
        Page 664
    The story of a bad bird
        Page 665
        Page 666
        Page 667
    Rock-a-bye, baby!
        Page 668
        Page 669
    Captain Sarah Bates
        Page 670
        Page 671
        Page 672
        Page 673
        Page 674
        Page 675
    Stories of art and artists: Fourth paper
        Page 676
        Page 677
        Page 678
        Page 679
        Page 680
        Page 681
        Page 682
        Page 683
        Page 684
        Page 685
    My aunt's squirrels
        Page 686
        Page 687
    Phaeton Rogers
        Page 688
        Page 689
        Page 690
        Page 691
        Page 692
        Page 693
        Page 694
        Page 695
    How to stock and keep a fresh-water aquarium
        Page 696
        Page 697
        Page 698
        Page 699
        Page 700
        Page 701
        Page 702
        Page 703
    Le marchand de coco
        Page 704
    Saltillo boys
        Page 705
        Page 706
        Page 707
        Page 708
        Page 709
        Page 710
    Molly Mogg and Lucy Lee
        Page 711
    In nature's wonderland; or, Adventures in the American tropics
        Page 712
        Page 713
        Page 714
        Page 715
        Page 716
        Page 717
        Page 718
    Eugenio Mauricio Dengremont
        Page 720
        Page 721
    Dog lost!
        Page 719
    The major's big-talk stories
        Page 722
        Page 723
        Page 724
    To make a net without a needle
        Page 726
        Page 725
    The star-spangled banner
        Page 727
    The five cats
        Page 728
        Page 729
        Page 730
        Page 731
    The letter-box
        Page 732
        Page 733
        Page 734
    The riddle-box
        Page 735
        Page 736
    Back Matter
        Back Matter
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text





[See page 727.]


JULY, 1881.

No. 9.

[Copyright, i88, by Scribner & Co.]



BOBBY was a little tot in dresses, with long "dau-
burn" curls, as-he called them, hanging down on
his shoulders. He would n't be four years old till
October; and yet he had been. off on the cars that
spring day all alone by himself, and without say-
ing a word to anybody. It all happened because
Papa had just.bought him a velocipede, painted
black, with red trimmings, and having a cushioned
seat and a silver-tipped steering-handle. Mamma
had always said that there were two things which
Bobby must not do till he was large enough to
wear trousers, and one was to eat mince-pie and
the other to ride a velocipede. But every boy
on the street had a velocipede that spring,, and
there was no peace till Bobby had one, too. Yet
Mamma never let him take it out of the yard:till
he had promised not to -go out of sight of the
house, and not to race with the other boys. .
Bobby's father. was an engineer on the railroad,
and he was' gone from home all day. On the
morning when this story: began to happen, he
went away early, leaving Mamma with oceans of
work" on her hands,-that is, the week's ironing
was to be finished up and some frosted cake made
for a little- party she was to' have that evening; so
as soon as Bobby had finished his breakfast, she
put on his little gray cloak, with the cap to match,
-which had a black, tassel in the center,-and his
red silk neckerchief, and mittens of the same
color, and'sent him out to play with the veloci-
pede; then she made the cake while the irons
were getting hot, going to the door every little
while to see that Bobby was all right.
For a time, Bobby remembered all that he had
promised Mamma, and kept near the house and
VOL. VIII.-42.

did not race; but after all the other children had
come out on the walk with .their velocipedes, and a
grand open-to-all race around the square was
started, he forgot himself, and followed the rest
just as fast as his little legs could make the wheels
go. And, what was stranger, Mamma forgot him,
because, at that very moment, she made the un-
happy discovery that while her irons were hot, her
party-cake was burning up. By the time that
Bobby had turned the first corner of the square,
the other children were out of sight. He was
tired, and would have gone home, and this story
would never have been written. But it so hap-
.pened that he looked down the street a long
way to where the railroad track crossed the
road, in front of the big depot, and saw a steam-
engine; and then he thought to himself: "I '11 go
and see Papa," for he had an idea that all engines
went to the same place,.and that- any one of them
would take him straight to Papa; it would be
fine fun to ride in the cab, on the engineer's seat,
just as he rode one day when Papa's engine was
going.from the engine-house to the depot. So
the velocipede flew down the street for the next
few minutes in away that made everybody stare.
But after a while it made a sudden stop, for Bobby
spied a string of tobacco-pipes hanging in the win-
dow of a cigar store and he wanted one, because
he remembered that Papa always had a pipe in his
mouth when he started for the depot. So he left
the velocipede leaning against the window, and
went in and bought a long clay pipe with a yellow
mouth-piece. The man asked him for a penny,
and he paid him promptly from the bit of a purse
which he always carried in the side pocket of his




cloak. And when he had put that pipe in his
mouth, he felt so grand that he marched off for the
depot, never once thinking of the velocipede.
When he reached the depot, the engine was
hitched to a long train of cars, and the engineer
stood on the ground oiling the machinery with
a funny, long-spouted oil-can. The steam was
shooting out of the steam-pipe, and the fireman
sat in the cab all ready to ring the bell for starting
the train. Bobby pulled the sleeve of the engi-
neer's jacket and said, pointing to the cab, "Please
put me up there; I want to go and see my papa "
But the engineer shook his head and said, I
could n't do that, my little man," and then he
climbed up to his seat. This was a great disap-
pointment to Bobby, and I dare say he would have
cried right out if he had n't seen a man with a pipe
in his mouth, just like his own, going into the
third car from the engine. So he thought that that
must be the place for him. Just how he contrived
to pull himself up the steps nobody knows, for
nobody saw him, but when the train moved out of
the depot he was curled up on the front seat of the
smoking-car, with the pipe still between his teeth.
That very same minute, his mamma was hurry-
ing down Main street, looking very hot and ex-
ceedingly frightened, asking every one she met,
"Have you seen my boy on his velocipede ? "
The burning of that party-cake had so distracted
the poor woman that she had not thought of Bobby
for as much as ten minutes after it was out of the
oven, and then none of the children, who had
.finished their race around the square by this
time, had the slightest idea what had become of
him. Neither did anybody else know, although a
policeman told her that there was an idle veloci-
pede down by Mr. Carter's cigar store. But all
that Mr. Carter could tell her was that he had sold
Bobby a pipe, to be used for blowing soap-bubbles,
he supposed.
Mamma was very pale by this time, and her
mind was full of all the terrible things that might
possibly happen to Bobby, but she went straight on
through the crowded streets of the city, till she
came to the police office at the City Hall. The
chief of police was very kind to her, and he wrote
down all that she could tell him about how Bobby
looked, and what he wore. He said that the City
Hall bell should be rung to show that a child was
lost, that all the policemen should look for Bobby
all over the city, and that if he was n't found within
two hours, the description he had written out
should be printed in a hand-bill and posted every-
where. The big bell in the tower began to ring
while Mamma went down the steps of the build-
ing, and it did n't stop until she reached home.
By this time it was noon and her fire was all out.

A policeman brought home the velocipede a few
minutes later, and, when he was gone, Mamma sat
down and cried.
"Oh," said she, "where can my Bobby be, and
what will Papa say when he comes home to-
Conductor John Blackmer was a good deal sur-
prised that day when he opened the door of the
smoking-car on the fast New York express, just
after leaving Brocton depot, to see Bobby and the
pipe on the front seat. The little fellow,was so
nicely dressed that if it had n't been for the pipe,
one would have supposed that he had just escaped
from the infant class of some Sunday-school. The
conductor stopped to ask him some questions, but
the youngster was feeling his importance consider-
ably just then, and about all that could be got out
of him was that he intended to "see Papa"; so
the conductor went on through the train, and he
asked the passengers, while he was punching holes
in their tickets, whose little boy that was in the
smoking-car; but, of course, nobody knew. Then
he went back to Bobby, and said:
"Who are you, anyhow ?"
"Well," answered he, "my name is Bobby
Bradish, and I live at 27 Garden street; my
papa's name is Buxton Bradish; he is an engineer,
and they call him 'Buck' Bradish, for short "
All this was a speech that he had been taught to
say at home, and one that always made Papa
The conductor knew "Buck" Bradish well, al-
though he worked on another railroad; and he
also knew what to do with Bobby. He first per-
suaded the young man to let him put the pipe into
the side pocket of his own coat, to keep it from
breaking, and then he carried him in his arms to
the parlor-car, which was the next one in front of
the smoking-car, and put him down in one of the
big, red, stuffed chairs. He was facing a kind-
looking lady, who got him to tell her about Mamina
and Papa, and the velocipede. And when the boy
with books and papers to sell came along, she
bought for Bobby a children's magazine, and showed
him the pictures; and also a little candy,-all, she
was sure, Mamma would be willing he should eat.
She made Bobby feel that the parlor-car was a
much nicer place to ride in than the smoking-car.
It was twenty-five miles from Brocton to Sher-
man, where the express trains stopped next.
When the conductor came into the car to take
Bobby out, the little boy asked if his papa was
there. The conductor told him that Papa was not
there, but that he himself would take him to a
lady who would tell him how to find Papa. Then
he carried him across a track and into the depot,
saying to a young lady who stood behind a door




that had a hole cut in it just large enough for
Bobby to see her face, "Here he is." And she
smiled, and, opening the door, said, "Bring him
right in." So the conductor put Bobby on the
lounge that stood behind the door, and the next
minute he was gone off on the train.
It was the funniest little room Bobby had ever
seen,-hardly wide enough to turn around in.
There was one sunny window in it that looked out
on the railroad. While Bobby was looking around
him, the lady sat down at a table, having some
very curious-looking machinery on it, and played
with her fingers on a black button that moved up
and down on a spring, and made a clicking noise;
and when the bird heard the clicking noise, he
sang as though his throat would split. You see
that it was a telegraph-office in which Conductor
Blackmer had left Bobby, and that this lady was
sending Mamma word where Bobby was; and
when she had finished playing on the button, she
came and sat on the lounge, and took Bobby in
her lap; then she explained to him that his papa
had gone a long way off on another railroad, and
that he could not see him till night; also, that
Conductor Blackmer would come back with his
train by and by, and take him home; and that he
must be a good boy while he staid with her, and
he would find both Papa and Mamma waiting for
him in the depot at home. And when she was
sure that the little boy understood it all, it was
dinner-time. You see, Conductor Blackmer had
written a letter while he was on the cars, telling all
about Bobby, and had given it to her as soon as
the train stopped, so that she would know what
to. do with the little boy; and he had also written
a message for her to telegraph to Mamma.
All this time, Mamma was sitting in the kitchen
at home, crying as though her heart were broken.
She did not even notice that the fire was out and
her irons were cold; she was so troubled because
Bobby was lost. But she started up very quickly
when the front-door bell rang, and was a good
deal surprised to find that a telegraph-boy had
brought her a message; there could be no mistake
about it, for on the envelope were the words,
" Mrs. Buxton Bradish, 27 Garden street, Brocton,
Connecticut." So she opened it, and this was what
the message said:
"SHERMAN, CONNECTICUT, April 5th, 1875.
"Bobby is all right. Will bring him home at 6.30 this evening.
"Conductor New York Express."

Mamma wiped away her tears in a hurry when
she had read the message, and asked the boy to

come in while she wrote a note, informing the
chief of police that Bobby was at last found.
And then she began to make up a new fire in the
kitchen stove; and when the fire was lit she put
away the ironing and made a new party-cake.
The lady who staid in the Sherman telegraph-
office boarded at a large hotel across the road from
the depot, and it was there that she took Bobby to
dinner. Her friends stared a good deal when they
saw her leading him through the long dining-room,
but the waiter ran for a high chair and a bib, and
the little boy enjoyed himself very much. After
dinner, the lady went to a toy store and bought
him some "sliced animals," and after they had
gone back to the office, she showed him how to
put the pasteboard strips together so as to make
pictures of the lion, tiger, sheep, etc. Then she
read him a story from the magazine which the
other lady had given him on the train, and then
Bobby fell asleep on the lounge. But he was wide
awake when Conductor Blackmer came to take
him, and the lady gave Bobby a good hug and
a kiss before she let him go. The conductor put
the magazine and the sliced animals in his over-
coat pocket, and placed Bobby on a seat in the
passenger-car. And when he had finished collect-
ing tickets, he took him on his knee and told him
stories about his own little children at home.
Papa's train came into the Brocton depot at six
o'clock, half an hour earlier than the one Bobby
was on. Mamma was there to meet him, and he
was very much astonished to hear what had been
going on.
When the New York express train came in,
the first man who got off was Conductor Black-
mer, with Bobby in his arms. And when Papa
and Mamma had heard the whole story of Bobby's
trip to Sherman, the conductor handed him over to
them "safe and sound," along with the magazine,
the sliced animals, and the pipe.
There was a very happy party at 27 Garden
street that evening. Bobby was allowed to sit at the
table and have a piece of the party-cake.
He is a large boy now, but he still remem-
bers how he ran away to find Papa. And if you
should go into the parlor of his house, you would
see three photographs in the same frame. One of
them is the picture of a little boy on a velocipede,
another, that of John Blackmer, conductor of the
New York express, and the third, that of the lady
who stays in the Sherman telegraph-office. And
over these pictures there is placed a clay pipe, with
a yellow mouth-piece; a pipe that has never been








THANKSGIVING is all well enough in its way,
Against Christmas and New-Year I 've nothing
to say,
But my dog and the fellows and I,-
That is, all the fellows who have any spunk,
Who save up for months to buy powder and punk,
And keep fire-crackers hid in my old leather
We just live for the Fourth of July!

Tom stays at his aunt's, near the end of the lane;
Her house is quite fine but she 's hateful as Cain;
And I 'm going to tell what she said,
One day when my dog and the fellows and I
Had gone to Tom's house to spend Fourth of July,
And thought, being under her window, we 'd try
To be quiet as mice, or the dead.

We said "Hurrah! softly, for fear she'd be mad;
We set off the littlest cannon we had,
As under the bushes we hid;
Tom screamed Do be quiet! at each little
And when my dog yelped as he tore up the ground,
To bring me a piece of a cracker he 'd found,
I cried "Lie down, sir And he did.

Yes, he did every time-but 't was all of no use;
When folks want to find fault they can make an
So she popped her head out through the vinies
And cried: "Tom, your father shall hear about
To put up with this longer is more than I 'll do-
Come into the house, sir, and send off the crew
That are spoiling my flowers and lines!

" Independence, indeed! I 'd rather, I say,
Be under the rule of Great Britain to-day,
Than subjected to noises I hate!"
Oh! sharper than crackers the cruel words rang,
And quickly the window went down with a bang,
As up from the bushes my brave old dog sprang,
And followed me out of the gate.

She 's as cross an old party as ever could be!
She insulted my dog and the fellows and me,
And though they may forgive her, I can't!
No, I can't-and, besides that, I don't mean to
And next year my dog and the fellows and I
Will go off on the rocks to spend Fourth of July,
With no thanks to Tom or his aunt!



; - .. A




POOR old Mr. Preface was tired,-not that he
had been particularly busy,-no, that was the pity
of it. Time had been when every caller at Dic-
tionary Mansion had, first of all, paid their
respects to him; in return, he imparted to each
new visitor such little hints and general information
as its founder, Mr. Webster, had thought they
might need to aid them in their researches.
But, alas! those days were of the past! In the
rush and hurry of modern American life, people
could not wait to confer with him. There were
constant callers at the mansion with whom he had
never interchanged a word,-people who rushed
through the halls, found the room of the Word
they desired to consult, made their inquiries, and
then bolted unceremoniously. All this worried
Mr. Preface very much, for was he not an old and
faithful servant? Mr. Webster himself had given
him the position of janitor when Dictionary Man-
sion was first completed. It was comparatively a
small house then; and through all its changes to
the present enormous structure, with its number-
less lodgers, he had remained faithfully at his post.
These were a few of the sad thoughts occupying
his attention one night as he sat restlessly in his
arm-chair, wearied with enforced idleness. It was
rather late for him, too. He usually closed the
doors early in the evening; but, that night, Orator
Puff was to speak at the Town Hall, and had en-
gaged many of the biggest Words to assist him,
and Mr. Preface was awaiting their return.
Meanwhile, the poor old fellow was slowly go-
ing over his sorrowful thoughts, when he was
suddenly startled by a scream. It evidently came
from a distant part of the building. Going into
the hall, he found it rapidly filling with excited
Words, anxious to know the cause of the alarm.
As the commotion appeared greatest in the corridor
of the "U's," he hurried there, and soon found
himself at the room of little Mr. Up. Crowding
past Curiosity, who stood vacantly staring through
the door, he saw the body of the little lodger lying
prostrate on the floor. Bending over him were
Pity and Sympathy, vainly trying to bring him to
Miss Ufas, the lady who lived in the adjoining
chamber, gave this explanation: Her neighbor
had come home unusually late that evening.
After hearing him close his door, she felt the jar
of some one falling. Hurrying to his room, she
discovered him lying on the floor, apparently dead,

and, in her terror, she gave the piercing scream
which alarmed the house. Mr. Aid was the first
to appear on the scene, and was doing all he could
to revive the sufferer.
When Up had sufficiently recovered, he told his
story, as follows:
"Mine is simply a case of nervous and bodily
exhaustion, caused by constant overwork. There
has not been a night for the last two years that I
have not come home so utterly fagged out that it
seemed as if I never could begin my endless
labor again. Ever since the Jones family came to
this town, my services have been in constant
demand from early dawn till late at night. It
appears there is hardly an idea in their heads but
they think my presence necessary for its expres-
sion. For instance, there is Father Jones. At first
cock-crow, he 'wakes up'; then 'gets up' and
' pakes up' the fire; 'does up' his chores;
'blacks up' his boots; 'eats up' whatever his
wife 'cooks up' for breakfast; 'goes up' to the
store; 'figures up' the cash account; 'buys up'
more goods; 'marks up' the prices; 'fills up' the
orders; 'foots up' the profits; 'shuts up' the
store; 'dresses up' for dinner; 'sits up' awhile
afterward, calling for my assistance continually,
until he 'locks up' the house for the night and
'shuts up' his eyes in slumber.
"At the same time Miss Fanny 'dresses up';
' does up' her hair; 'takes up her book; 'gets
herself up' in her lesson ; 'hunts up' her bonnet;
'hurries up' to school; 'catches up' with a
school-mate; stands up to recite; 'passes up' to
the head of the class; 'flushes up' at the praise
of her teacher; 'divides up' her luncheon at
recess; and, as she rides up' home in the horse-
car, 'makes up' her mind to 'be up' at the
head of the school ere the term is 'up.'
"Tommy Jones 'runs up' to the store on an
errand; 'trips up over a stick; cries out that he is
all 'bruised up,' until his mother 'bandages up'
his knee, and 'hugs him up' a dozen times, and
tells him to 'keep up' good courage, and try to
'cheer up.'
"And so it is the long, long, weary day. I go
from one to the other until I can scarcely totter.
Nor would I complain even now if I thought my
help were really needed. But there is the Brown
family living next door; they are certainly quite as
active as the Joneses, and, as they seldom require
my services, I can only think that my presence on





every occasion (for it can not fairly be called assist-
ance) is not indispensable, as the Joneses seem to
Shameful, shameful! was the indignant com-
ment of the group of listeners, as Up finished his
Said Incomprehensibility: I scarcely can believe
the Joneses to be so cruel as to abuse such a little
man as Up like that. Just think of it-only two
letters high! And here am I, a very giant among
Words, and yet have only been called out once
for a month! Then it was for a spelling at a
public school, and I was immediately dismissed.
Why could not the work be more evenly distrib-
uted among us ? "
"You have spoken my sentiments exactly," said
Procrastination. "We ought to labor according to
our size. My only work this week was in serving
for an hour as writing-copy for Tommy Jones. I
was very glad to be put to use, although the teacher
did say I was a thief of time.' "
"Let us hold an indignation meeting," sug-
gested another. "We can at least protest against
such barbaric cruelty and injustice."
The idea met with favor, and the fast-increasing
assemblage adjourned without delay to the main
hall of the building, whither all the other inmates
were soon summoned. Arbiter was chosen mod-
erator, in acknowledgment of his wisdom, and be-
cause of his reputation as a settler of disputes.
Vice-presidents were selected from Scripture proper
names, abbreviations, and noted names of fiction,
-and Record elected secretary. The meeting being
'duly organized, the chairman announced the busi-
iness to come before it, giving a brief but spirited
account of Up's history and sufferings.
He was followed by Argument, an old and ex-
perienced debater who had spent much time in
court, and was noted chiefly for always being on
the contrary side. For this once, however, he hap-
pily agreed with the prevailing opinion. Said he:
"No doubt the Americans are a well-meaning
race. But they are extremely careless and seldom
think. And'no doubt the Joneses are, at this very


moment, serenely sleeping in utter unconsciousness
of the pain and misery which their dullness has
inflicted upon poor little Up. Of course they mean
to do right, and would not knowingly injure any
one. But that is a poor excuse. Now these
same Americans have a society for the prevention
of cruelty to animals. They seem to be in greater
need of a society for the prevention of cruelty to
the English language, a society whose rigid laws
should be strictly enforced. Perhaps my words
seem strong, but, my friends, Up's case is not an
unusual one. I see before me even now 4wo
Words, You and Know, who have had an equally
bitter experience. Whenever some people summon
us to the aid of their ideas, You and Know are
hitched in with the other Words. Sometimes they
trot before and sometimes behind. In either case,
while they do not help the expressions, but are
rather a hindrance, they become quite as fatigued
as if doing regular and proper work. Now, if Mr.
Jones, for instance, should see a pair of horses used
in the same way, he would at once set down their
driver as an idiot, if not something worse. But
the two cases are not unlike, although our unthink-
ing friends seem not to perceive this."
Another speaker thought that, As the Joneses
and others have probably never looked at the
subject in that light, it might be that if it were so
presented to them they would see the justice of the
complaint and offend no more. I should, therefore,
move, Mr. Chairman, that our friend Preface
should be appointed a committee of one to call
their attention to the matter, and urge a reform."
At this point, Mr. Preface arose and addressed
the meeting in a sorrowful manner. He thought
the appeal should be spread far and wide by some
able and influential advocate. Reminding his
hearers of his own neglected position and waning
powers, he moved to amend by having an account
of the whole affair sent to the ST. NICHOLAS for
The amendment being accepted, the resolution
as amended was passed by a unanimous vote, after
which the meeting adjourned.





A QUIET little village is Adelsberg, so hidden
away among the mountains of Southern Austria
that it might never have been heard of but for its
famous "Grotto," which is what every one comes
to visit. Just beyond the village, you see a great
black tunnel in the hill-side, from which rushes a
foaming river; and into this tunnel you go.
At first you seem to be entering some great
cathedral, with a vast black dome overhead, and
high, wide arches all around; and the lights that
mark the way seem to be mere sparks. But
the path turns suddenly upward, through a dark
rock-gallery, the roar of an unseen river below
growing fainter as you ascend. The guides light
their torches, and the glare shows you many
strange things in passing-palms, cypresses, wil-
lows, outstretched hands and turbaned heads,
dogs, parrots, monkeys-all so life-like in the
flickering light that, you think, the best sculptor
might be proud of them. But no sculptor has ever
chiseled these; they are formed by the solid parti-

cles in the water that drops from the roof, and
keeps up a constant "tick-tick all around.
Here extends a crimson-edged curtain, forty feet
long, every fold distinct, but all stone. We come
upon a crowd of strange-looking people, seemingly
waiting for some one; but they have been waiting
there for ages-they, too, are of stone. One guide
taps a stalactite with his stick, and it chimes like
a bell; another shouts, and his shout echoes like
organ music far away.
Suddenly, we come out upon a level floor, set with
tables and benches; and the guides tell us that
every year the village-folk have a dance and supper
down here, and that the Emperor himself attended
one of these under-ground balls not long ago!
From this point, rails have been laid for a mile
and a half, and passengers may be pushed along
them in trucks-a sort of street-car line under-
ground !
But the side-gallery for foot-passengers is a
startling place for a walk. It runs along the very




brink of a precipice, with no protection but a low
hand-rail, from the black depths below. Far, far
down, the river can be heard growling and mut-
tering among its broken rocks. Half-way along
this ledge, a sudden glitter breaks through the
darkness, and, hanging right over the precipice,
appears a monster stalactite, more than fifty feet
long by twelve thick. It has been forming for
A little beyond the Diamond Grotto (as this
passage is called) the cave formerly ended; but the
guides having noticed that the rock sounded hollow
in one place, a boring was made, and a second
cave was discovered, almost as large as the first.
The whole mountain is honey-combed with these
under-ground streets, which may be seen winding
away on every side; there are several of them into
which no one has dared to venture, but many
marvels are seen in others. There are the Lean-
ing Tower"; the "Gallery of Statues," along
which you see a row of veiled figures standing on
the very edge of a deep black pit, and bending for-
ward as if just about to fling themselves in, head-
foremost; and the "Dropping Fountain," beneath
which has been formed in the course of ages the

exact likeness of an enormous sea-shell, with all
its ribs and hollows perfectly marked.
A little farther on, you come to the "Frozen
Water-fall"-a strange sight indeed. At the first
glance, the whole side of the grotto seems to be
one great sheet of dashing water and boiling foam,
but without the slightest sound. You look again,
and you see that it is half stone and half ice,
glittering like silver in the blaze of the torches, but
noiseless and motionless as moonlight. And now,
at the very end of the cave, you come upon the
last and most curious sight of all.
This farthest recess is called the "Polar Grotto,"
and very polar it looks. Winter everywhere: in
the bare white floor, which might well pass for a
waste of eternal snow; in the monster icicles that
hang overhead; in the pillars of ribbed ice that
stand all around, with gloomy hollows between; in
the aching chill that strikes to one's very bones
before one has stood there half a minute. And
here, as if to complete the picture, rises a huge
snow-drift, upon which stands an enormous white
bear, turning his back upon everybody in a very
unsocial way, as if he did not approve of being
disturbed in his den by a parcel of sight-seers.

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IT is painful to think that any bird could be
really wicked; for birds-especially chubby birds
-almost always seem good and innocent, and look
as if their fat little breasts grew so because there
were warm little hearts inside. And a bird has a
way of looking you straight in the face with his
bright little eye, that makes you believe he is
honest and is not ashamed of it. Birds have made
a splendid record in the world. I never knew a
bird to tell a lie, excepting this bad bird, and cer-
tainly no bird was ever known to rob a bank, or
forge a check.
But, sad as it is to think so, there have been bad
birds, and this one, whose story I am about to tell,
was so very bad that, in fairness toward the rest of
the birds, it should be understood that he was very
unlike them. The fact is, he was a downright
cheat. He was nothing but a common blackbird,
who had never been to school a day in his life, and
yet he set himself up for a bird-doctor, called him-
self Dr. Black, and put on all sorts of medical airs.
He even went so far as to pretend that he was a
crow, and had studied medicine, and been made
a doctor at the famous Crow College out West,
although he had never so much as seen it.
Perhaps you have never heard of Crow College
before ? Well, that is not strange, for if I had not
had some very highly educated birds among my
friends, I believe I should never have heard of it
myself. A great deal depends upon the kind of
birds you associate with. It is a college where
crows study to be doctors. (The bird-doctors are
always crows-did you know that?) There are
forty teachers in the college, all of them crows,
very learned and very black, and the head of the
faculty is a solemn old raven, who came over from
the Raven University in Arabia just to be the head
of this college. He is so old that he can't remem-
ber how many hundred years it is since he was
born, and, as he has never been known to open
his mouth, excepting to eat, he is believed by every-
body to be wonderfully wise.
The college classes meet in the upper branches
of the trees in a great Western forest. If you
passed by there, you would think, of course, that
it was merely a flock of noisy crows chattering
together. But if you could see up to the tops of
the trees, you would see the old raven dozing, with
his spectacles on his nose, and the teachers ex-
plaining, all'at once, about the bones and veins of
birds and their tiny diseases, and all the classes

studying hard, like good little crsws. But there is
one sad thing about the Crow College. Crow-
doctors have trouble sometimes in getting paid,
and, as crows must live, there is one crow-professor
who gives his whole time to teaching the best way
to steal corn. And I am sorry to add that the
corn-class is always the largest class of all.
The way Dr. Black set himself up in practice
will show you what a clever little rogue he was.
Have you ever seen Stuyvesant Square, in New
York? A good many of you must have seen it.
It is one of the oldest parks in the city; St.
George's Church stands beside it, and away up in
the great towers of the church, the clock strikes
every few minutes with a gentle, friendly sound, as
if it were telling the children playing below that
another quarter of an hour has gone, and they
must enjoy all the hours and minutes that are left.
In this pleasant old park, there is a fount-
ain, and in the fountain there is a little raft of
wood about a footsquare. This raft is anchored
with a stone, and one end runs under the water
just enough to let the birds skip down upon it into
the water and have a splendid bath, and skip back
upon the dry part of the board. Now it so hap-
pened that the park policeman was putting a new
raft in its place when Dr. Black came flying over
the park. That caught his wicked little eye, and
he stopped; he alighted on a tree right at the edge
of the fountain and seemed to be thinking very
hard. It was a sign that he was doing this when
he scratched himself as near to his head as he
could get with his foot, and he scratched himself
several times.
Finally, when his mind seemed to be made up,
and the policeman had gone away, Dr. Black flew
down to the board and stood on it. Meanwhile,
he carefully stroked his feathers until he looked so
smooth, so black, and so respectable that you
would have said he was a bird-doctor, the minute
you looked at him, and you would have thought
him one of the most respectable birds alive. Now,
down came the sparrows for their bath; they had
been waiting, and they were impatient. Who was
this dark stranger standing in their way? They
flew around and around him, chirping to one
another, and wondering, in their little brains, what
it could all mean; and all the while, Dr. Black
stood on the board, silent and black, and pretend-
ing to take no notice of them whatever; but he
was watching them all the time, you may be sure.




Finally, the bravest of the sparrows-it was a little
lady-sparrow-alighted on the board. She was so
anxious to know who this strange-looking bird was,
that she could n't stand it any longer. Dr. Black
bowed to her very politely, and, putting his best
and blackest claw foremost, he said he was very
glad to see her; that he had built this bath at
great expense, and hoped that the birds of the
neighborhood would patronize him liberally. He
was a doctor, he said, and had studied at Crow
College-the little scamp !

together, the Mayor and the other city officers
meet and make up their minds how it must be
spent. Some of it goes to pay the firemen,-the
brave men who put out fires and save people's
lives; some of it to pay the policemen; some of it
to pay men for keeping the streets clean; some of
it for the meat the lions and tigers eat in Central
Park, and some of it for the little baths for the
sparrows. So, you see that when Dr. Black said
he had paid for that bath, he had told what the
boys call a "whopper."

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Little Mrs. Sparrow was greatly amazed. The
bath had always been free before; why was n't it
free now? But Dr. Black soon made her believe
that the bath had always belonged to him, though
he had never charged anything for the use of it,
because he loved to do good to his fellow-birds.
But now-and here he gave his breast a little
heave and pretended to wipe a tear from his eye-
he had been unlucky; he had lost his money, and
he was forced, in his old age, to work to get
enough to eat. Here the little humbug turned
away from Mrs. Sparrow, and worked his shoulders
up and down in such a way that she, kind-hearted
little thing, thought he was sobbing hard. The
truth was he was winking to himself at the
thought of his own smartness, and thinking what a
soft-hearted little lady-bird she was.
Perhaps you don't know where these little baths
for the sparrows come from. Well, every year
every man in New York who owns a house pays
some money to the city. This is what is called
paying taxes. When all the money has been put

But little Mrs. Sparrow believed it all. Dear me!
Sparrows never will be able to understand politics.
She flew to her friends and told them all about
Dr. Black. She said that he charged very little
for the use of the bath. He would take worms, or
pieces of cake or bread, or almost anything good
to eat. You see, the Doctor was hungry, although
he did n't tell Mrs. Sparrow so. She said, too,
that he was a splendid doctor, and when her hus-
band, Mr. D. Thomas Sparrow, asked her how she
knew, she said that she was n't going to be talked
to as if she were a mere child and did n't know
anything. She knew he was a splendid doctor.
Anyhow, he had beautiful black eyes!
What do you suppose happened? There was a
most alarming outbreak of sickness among the
birds. They had been the healthiest, sturdiest
sparrows in the world before-fat and chubby, and
with tremendous appetites. But now there were
invalids on all sides, among the lady-sparrows.
And so, sly Dr. Black soon had all the patients he
wanted, and all the fees he could eat. He became




the fashion, and no lady-sparrow felt that she was
doing her duty to society unless it was known that
he was her physician.
The gentleman-sparrows of the Square made
a great deal of fun about all this. They did n't
believe in Dr. Black, and said so, and very few of
them went to his bath. It was a strange scene in
the mornings when Dr. Black received his patients.
He looked so wise and grave, and pushed the little
birds into the water with such a polite way, and
made such handsome bows when they paid him his
crumbs. Meanwhile, the nurses and children who
were in the park would be very much astonished
to see fifteen or twenty little gentleman-sparrows
sitting around the edge of the fountain and trying
to sneer. Yes, to sneer. It is not an easy thing
to do, for the gentleman-sparrow is usually a good-
natured, nice little fellow. When he does try to
sneer, the effect is very dreadful, and if you had
been there, you also might have been astonished.
But one morning there was a new sensation
among the sparrow colony in Stuyvesant Square.
A young gentleman-sparrow, who had been a great
traveler, had arrived, and there was as much of a
stir in the best sparrow circles as an English duke
or a French nobleman could make in higher soci-
ety. You see, these city sparrows usually stay in
the park where they are born. Very few of the
birds in Stuyvesant Square knew that there was
any world beyond Third Avenue, arid so when this
young gentleman came who had crossed the city
five times to the Battery, and had once actually
spent a whole summer in New Jersey, he was
looked upon as a sort of explorer, and treated with
great respect. They called him Mr. Jersey Spar-
row, as a nice way of reminding people how far he
had traveled. But he took care that nobody should
ever forget it. He was always talking of the
strange places he had seen, and spoke Sparrow
language with a foreign accent; and the way he
turned out his toes was almost French. He was a
very vain little bird, and it vexed him to hear all
the lady-sparrows, who seemed to admire him,
talking so much about this Dr. Black. Secretly,
his little breast filled with envy of Dr. Black, who
was said to be such a handsome crow and such a
wise doctor.
So, one morning, Mr. Jersey Sparrow appeared
at the fountain.
"Why," said he, "he's not a crow! A crow is
three times as big as that "
Dr. Black was a little frightened, for he knew
this was not a stay-at-home sparrow that he must
deal with now. But, like a wise bird, he said
nothing, and tried to look as if he thought it was
not worth while to notice this loud young person.

Why," said Mr. Jersey Sparrow, scanning him
closely, "he 's nothing but a blackbird! "
What a buzz and chatter went up from the spar-
row colony The little gentleman-sparrows all
began to shake their heads and say they had always
declared there was something wrong about this
Dr. Black, while the little lady-sparrows divided
into two parties. The lady-sparrows who had
admired Mr. Jersey Sparrow most agreed that it
was a shame a mere blackbird should have made
them all believe he was a crow. But other lady-
sparrows, headed by the little Mrs. Sparrow whom
the Doctor had first welcomed to his bath-float,
and who had ever since been his special friend,
stood by him and declared that they knew he was
a crow, though not one of the kind-hearted little
things had ever seen a crow in her life !
By this time, Mr. Jersey Sparrow was very much
worked up. He strutted up and down the edge of
the fountain, and his little body shook with excite-
ment. Finally, he screamed out: "If he is a crow,
let him say, 'Caw!' Let him say 'Caw!' "
"Can he say Caw' ?" the Doctor's party mur-
mured among themselves anxiously, and little Mrs.
Sparrow said softly in the Doctor's ear, "Do say
'Caw!' I 'm sure you can! But Mr. Jersey
Sparrow and his friends chattered in a mocking
way, "Yes, let him say 'Caw!' We should like
to hear him say Caw !'"
If Dr. Black had been very wise indeed, he
would still have kept silence, and scorned the
charge that he was not a crow. A good many of
the birds would have believed him, in spite of
everything and everybody. That has often been
the way, with birds as well as men. But a wild
idea seized him. Perhaps he could say Caw," if
he tried hard! He swelled up his little lungs till
his eyes stood out, and-tried.
How some of the sparrows laughed, and others'
faces fell, and Mr. Jersey Sparrow strutted around !
The "Caw was something between a squeal and
a squawk, a harsh cry unlike any crow's caw
that was ever heard. Dr. Black saw that the
game was lost. He stretched his wings, gave
his raft a spiteful little push with his foot, and
sailed up into the air, up, up-even over the great
church towers and out of sight, leaving the as-
tonished birds looking up into the sky, and
wondering whether he had flown quite away from
the world.
It is a curious fact in bird-nature that a great
many of those innocent sparrows believed to the
day of their deaths that Dr. Black was a great
scientist and a most learned crow, and always
declared that he had been driven away from them
by ingratitude and persecution.






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"Rock-a-bye, Baby, upon ite tree-top ;
When the wind blows, the cradle will rock;
When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall,
And down will come Baby, cradle, and all."

Sing a song to the baby, Lark;
Sing a song to the baby, Sparrow;
Merrily, oh, on the green hill-side,
The buttercups dance with the branching

The red cows stand by the glassy pool;
The little white lambs round their dams
are skipping;
And daintily over the grassy knolls,
I see the fair little shepherdess tripping.

Rock-a-bye, Baby, upon the tree-top;

,, diih Ar,. -'. ,lli.:. :

The rooks fly over the abbey-towers,
And, 'mong themselves, I hear them talking.

The monks are tinkling their silver bells;
And what do you think the rooks are say-
" There 's a baby, up in a tree, like a bird,
His silken nest on a green bough swaying."

The green leaves whisper unto thee, Sweet;
Beautiful secrets over and over;
I am so happy-and yonder field
Is humming with bees, and sweet with

The monks are tinkling their silver bells;
Their strong young gardener trundles the bar-
.*.,.i ro tlhe b -: ,. Ljirk .,i,._ Sparrow.


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A bee was trapped when the sun went down,
For he staid too long in the :! -h:.i!:..:.

I have slung thee, Love, in a silken scarf,
The west wind blows, to set thee rocking;

In the abbey-garden, the gardener spades
Around the roses, and helps their growing;
He is thinking of thee, and he 's thinking of
And thie sweet rose-leaves in his face are blowing.



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Rock-a-bye, Baby, upon the tree-top,
Thou and the leaflets are just beginning;
Spring lingereth yet with her dear rose-buds,
And I will sing to thee over my spinning.

I have set the spinning-wheel neathh the tree,
May be the baby will like the whirring;
Merrily, oh, in thy cradle, swing,
The young green leaves at thy side are

I shall spin a frock for thee, Baby dear;
The buttercups, oh, they are growing longer,
The baby shall run o'er the grassy fields,
One day, when his plump little legs are
stronger .

We will strew the rough roads with violets
With rags of roses and shreds of clover;
All for the sake of the soft little feet,
The cruel stones shall be covered over.

Sway softly, Love, in thy silken nest;
Tenderly life around thee closes,
And never a sting shall it bring to thee,
For thy mother will always thorn thy roses.

Rock-a-bye in thy cradle, Sweet,
The mother-bird from her nest is calling-
What 's this ?-ah me! the green bough
And my darling baby, alas! is falling-

A cowled monk peered from the abbey-wall;
The startled birds, overhead, were flying,
And the gardener trampled a rose-bush down,
In his haste to get to his baby crying.

The cowled monk turned to his glowing page,
And painted a cherub with rays of glory;
The wife and the gardener fondled and
And a smile from the baby endeth the

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SARAH BATES lived in New York Harbor. She
slept in Oldport, New Jersey, went to school in New
York City, and studied her lessons or helped her
mother at housekeeping in the great bay behind
Sandy Hook. Altogether, she lived over a great
deal of space for one so young; more singular
still, her father's house traveled more than fifty
miles every day, stopping at night in Oldport, New
Jersey, and spending the day at New York, or
somewhere between these places. Sarah's chamber
window sometimes looked out on the sea, and
sometimes the trees cast pretty shadows on the
carpet in the moonlight. At other times she had
to keep the blinds closed, for there was a wide and
noisy city street directly in front of the house.
Her mother's kitchen and dining-room, her father's
office, and all the other rooms, traveled, also,
and it did seem as if the entire household estab-
lishment was always moving. For all that, it was
a quiet and orderly household. Everything went
on precisely as in any ordinary house, but the house
itself and all the people in it had this singular
habit of traveling from place to place every day
in the week, excepting Sunday. On Sundays, the
house stood still at Oldport, New Jersey, and Sarah
went to the village church and sang in the choir,
very much as any good country girl might do.
Sarah had been born on the move, and had
been brought up on the go. For all that, she was
a very steady girl. Her father's house might travel
about, as much as it pleased, but you always knew
just where to find Sarah. She was a quiet girl,-
not talkative,-and trustworthy. Being the only
child, and living nearly all the time in a moving
house, and away from other children, she had
grown up in the society of people much older than
herself. She was her father's own girl, and, from
the time she had been able to talk and walk, had
been with him about his business. The family
consisted of her father and mother and Sarah.
There were also four men, who were in her father's
employ, and they all lived together in the same
house. Her father and mother had the best room
upstairs; Sarah's room was next to theirs; the
kitchen and dining-room were down-stairs, near
her father's office; two of the men who lived with
them had a room apiece, and the other two had a
room between them. To get from Sarah's room
to the kitchen, or dining-room and office, you had
to go out-of-doors on a narrow piazza that extended
all round the house; but none of the family seemed

to mind this, as it was very airy and healthful.
There were several other rooms in the house,
together with a small cellar, and a cupola on top
of the house. This was a square room, with win-
dows on every side, and comfortably carpeted, and
provided with a large sofa. All parts of the house
were warmed by steam in winter, and in summer
the piazzas were shaded by canvas awnings.
To understand this rather queer household, you
must know that Sarah's father was called the cap-
tain; one of the men-Mr. Cramp-was called the
mate; one of the other men was known as the
engineer; the other was called the fireman, and
the last man-Jake Flanders by name-was known
as the deck-hand. The house itself was named
the Mary and Sarah," and the name was painted
in big white letters on the side of the house.
It was almost five when Sarah awoke that morn-
ing, and the sun was already up. She had been
awaked by the noise the fireman made in stirring
up his fire below, in the boiler-room, and she sat
up and looked through the window. Just in front
of the house was the river, and beyond it the grassy
banks, with some cattle grazing in the' fields, while
the sun shone like a ball of silver through the
rising mists. She heard teams driving down on
the little pier, and knew that the cargo was arriving.
She rose and dressed, and put her room in order;
opened the door and stepped on the upper deck.
Her home was a steam-boat, you see. She went
aft a little way, and then down-stairs to the main
deck. Here she met crowds of men unload-
ing crates of strawberries from the teams on the
pier, for the "Mary and Sarah" was to take a
cargo of strawberries to New York. She would
start in less than an hour, and already the decks
were piled high with crates, and the air was sweet
with the fragrance of ten thousand quarts of
Sarah went forward, and, finding the door of the
engine-room open, she stepped in and sat down on
the sofa before the bright and glistening engine.
The engineer was polishing up the brass-work, and
she spoke to him pleasantly, and said she thought
they must have the largest cargo of the season.
After talking for a few moments with the engineer,
she went on deck, and passed along till she came
to another door. She opened this and entered her
mother's kitchen, or the galley," as it was called
on the boat. She found her mother busy over the
queer little stove, and getting breakfast; but she





seemed pale and weary. Sarah asked if she could
help get the breakfast.
"Yes, Sally, I kish you would finish it for me.
Father is in a great hurry to get off this morning to
get the fruit into market early, and I do not feel
very well. I think I 'll go to my room and lie
down for a while."
Without a word, Sarah took the breakfast in
hand, and finished it, while her mother went up-
stairs to her state-room. In half an hour it was
smoking hot on the breakfast table, and her father
and all the men came in for it. From this we see
that Sarah, while she did not say much, was a
competent housekeeper, though hardly thirteen
years of age. She cleared away the table, and put
the room in order, went upstairs to see if her
mother wanted anything, then went to her own
state-room and made up the bed, and then took
out her books to look over her lessons before going
to school, twenty miles away.
The day seemed to begin badly. Her mother
was ill in bed, and, just as they were taking the last
crates on board, a box fell on Jake Flanders's foot
and hurt him so much that he had to go ashore
and see the doctor. So it was that the ship's
company was partly disabled-the captain's wife
sick, and the deck-hand gone ashore. The time
came to start, and the lines were cast off, and
the "Mary and Sarah" steamed away for New
York short-handed.
Sarah gathered up her books, closed the blinds
at her window, and went out on deck, and forward
to the pilot-house. Her father was at the wheel,
and Sarah slipped behind him to the sofa and
curled herself upon it, and prepared to study her
lessons. The boat steamed steadily on and on, and
soon entered the great bay that opens in from the
sea between Sandy Hook and the Narrows. It was
a glorious day, and the cool sea-breeze, so salt and
fresh, came in at the open windows of the pilot-
house. To the right were the wooded hills of the
Jersey shore, scored here and there with red streaks
where the land-slides had uncovered the ruddy
soil. Beyond, to the south-east, lay the low white
beaches of Sandy Hook, with its light-houses and
fringe of black cedars. To the east was the open
sea, sparkling in the early sun. Directly ahead
were the summer hotels on Coney Island, and to
the left the wooded slopes and white villas of Staten
Island, and the Narrows with the grass-clad forts.
Here and there were ships moving about and
giving life to the scene What a glorious place
to study vulgar fractions and the declensions of the
verb to be /
The "Mary and Sarah" plowed ahead directly
for the Narrows, and leaving a wake of fragrance
from a million strawberries to mingle with the

sweet breath of the sea. They would reach the
Narrows in about an hour, and enter the upper
harbor, and in another hour would be at the dock,
in good time for Sarah to go ashore to school.
Just ahead of the boat was a long line of ships
coming and going in the main channel that ex-
tends across the mouth of the bay from the
Narrows to Sandy Hook. The wind was south-
east, and quite a number of vessels were running in
before it, while others were beating out against the
wind, or were being towed down to the Hook, with
their sails loose' in the wind, ready to be spread as
soon as they should clear the land.
The sun shone directly upon the girl's shapely
head, and the cool salt air lifted her brown hair
playfully. She was not exactly pretty, but pleasing
-one of those sober girls who grow to be splendid
women, strong, quick, and capable. Perhaps she
was almost a woman now. She could cook, and
sew, and make up a state-room, as well as any girl
ashore. If need be, she could stand up and take
that great wheel and steer the steamer from Oldport
to New York and back again, and ask no favors
of ship or ferry-boat. She knew all the bells for
the engine, and the rules of the road, and had
handled the boat many a time in the crowded
Hudson, and twice she had put the boat in dock,
without even scratching the paint on her sides.

There's bound to be a collision !"
Her father's voice startled her, and she laid down
her book and looked through the window. They
had crossed the bay and had joined the procession
of vessels in the main channel. Directly ahead was
a large bark bound in, under full sail, and in front
of her was a three-masted schooner, beating out.
They were dangerously near each other, and the
schooner seemed to be badly handled. She
changed her direction, and the bark shifted her
course to avoid her, and then the schooner came
up in the wind on the other tack.
"What a dreadful pity! They are going to
Almost before she could say this, the two vessels
came together with a loud crash, and the bark's
bowsprit broke off and fell into the water, and the
schooner's foretop-mast snapped, and the foretop-
sail came fluttering down to the deck. At the
same instant, the engine-bell rang, and the engine
stopped, but the boat had sufficient headway to
bring her up alongside the bark.
Captain Bates leaned from his window and cried
out to the men on the bark:
"Want any help ? "
A man looked over the ship's side and said-.
"Tow us to the city."
Take the wheel, Sally, while I go on board the




bark. This is too good a job to lose. Keep her
steady until I send Mr. Cramp up to you."
Sarah stood up and took the wheel as if it was
the most natural thing in the world, and her father
went out on deck and down to the deck below.
The schooner had by this time drifted away from
the bark, and fJ!!.- off before the wind, bore away
on her course without waiting to see what damage
she had done. The tide was running in strong,
and the bark, being much larger than the steamer
and having her sails set, began to move away from
the boat.
"Bring her alongside Sally," cried her father,
from below. She pulled the bell and leaned for-
ward and put her mouth to the speaking-tube to
the engine-room. Give her three strokes and
stop." At once came back the engineer's voice
from below, through the tube, "All right, Captain
They all called her that, so Captain Sarah turned
the wheel over and in a moment laid the boat along-
side the bark, just as the engine finished its three

"And the berries will be a little late to market,
but we shall get a good price for the job. 'T is n't
every day freight-boats get a good paying tow like
Captain Bates climbed on board the bark, and
the bargain was made. A long, heavy line was let
down from the bark's bows, the broken spar was
cut away, and the steamer was made fast, and then
they set out, the steamer some distance ahead,
and the disabled bark towing behind. Captain
Bates meanwhile had remained on the bark, which
left the Mary and Sarah still more short-handed.
Sarah took up her books again and was presently
lost in the contemplation of the beautiful rule that
the nominative case governs the gender of the verb.
At least, that is the way she read it, but what can
you expect in the pilot-house of a steamer towing a
wreck into New York Harbor?
The accident had taken place just outside the
Narrows, and they now passed between Staten
Island and Long Island, and entered the upper
bay. As the people on the bark had said they



strokes. Sarah has a keen eye, you observe. Just wished to go to Pier No. 42, North River, they
then, Mr. Cramp, the mate, entered the pilot-house, at once steered for the city. This pier was only
and she gave up the wheel to him and sat down on twelve docks from the Mary and Sarah's land-
the sofa. ing-place, so that, after all, the berries would not be
"I am afraid I shall be late to school if we take very late to market, and Sarah would reach school
the bark in tow." in time for the first lessons. She must study as





fast as possible to make up for lost time. For a
little while nothing in particular happened, and
then Mr. Cramp said to Sarah, in a stifled voice:
"Take the wheel, Miss, for
a bit. I feel rather queerish,
and perhaps I 'd better sit ,. .
down awhile." --
Sarah stood up behind the :- .'
wheel to steer the boat while ;''
the mate sat down on the
sofa. "'
"Don't you feel well, Mr.
"Something's come over
me. I shall feel better in a
moment. I '11 rest, and take
the wheel again before we
come to the Battery."
They had now made the
turn in the channel off the
Kill Von Kull, and Sarah
drew the wheel over and
steered directly for the city. .
There were a big steam-ship
coming out and several
schooners going up before
the wind. She knew the
channel and the rules for
passing steamers and sailing-
craft, and went confidently
on. It was so far plain sail-
ing and she let the mate
rest. Now she was drawing
nearer to the city and the
navigation was becoming dif-
ficult. Already she could see ,
the trees in Battery Park.
She looked behind her and
found that the mate had lain down on the sofa
and had fallen asleep, seeming pale and tired.
He was an old man with iron-gray hair, and he
seemed to be sleeping soundly.
"You had better take the wheel, Mr. Cramp;
we are almost up to the fort," said Sarah.
He did not stir, and in a moment or two she
spoke again; but he made no reply. The North
River was crowded with vessels,-a great number
being at anchor in the river off Governor's Island,-
and she kept inshore to give them a wide berth.
"Oh, Mr. Cramp! take the wheel! Do wake
up, sir; we are almost there !"
Just then a Staten Island ferry-boat came in
sight, rounding the island and close inshore. It
at once blew one whistle, as a signal that it wished
to pass to the right. Sarah reached up overhead
and pulled the cord for her whistle, and replied
with one blast to signify that she understood, and

then she steered her boat to the right and entered
open water off the Battery, where the East and
North rivers unite. She must now turn in a great
circle to the west
....- and rin...rtI. nd
S. th.:l ni l., her
S i-, : LI the
r" cr. I. .- .een
Cr, and

PhI iL-' Mr.
r ake
SIII \ : .:mn't

nr, ..I ;ir:1 we
: the

I 'd
SI IIi' "' old
-- ,,, .. nd
.,I,[- .. - ..

;n i', r, .: r i..pl',.. ':.h, ..I .:l r.:. d cl > t,:- lI-ave
the wheel. She could just touch him with
her foot, and that was all, and in spite of
every appeal, he slept on, and paid no attention
whatever. She looked all around to see if the
way was clear into the Hudson. Oh, there 's the
"Bristol" heading down the East River, and just
beginning to turn to pass the Battery, and behind
the "Bristol" are the double smoke-stacks of the
"Massachusetts" Two of the largest boats plying
in New York waters, and both heading for the same
point! She would meet them both, unless her
course was changed. No time to call Mr. Cramp
now. She must take the boat on, at any hazard,
as best she could. She blew her whistle once, as a
signal to the "Bristol," and instantly there came
two deep roaring blasts from her whistle. Sarah
looked all around to see what this meant. They
had refused her signal! There was danger some-
where! Oh, the bark towing behind! She had
forgotten it. There was no room for the "Bristol"
to pass! Sarah pulled the cord twice for the

VOL. VIII.-43.




whistle, and rang the engine-bell, and the engine
stopped. Then she looked out behind to watch
the bark. It would move on by its own momentum
and overtake her, and she must keep out of the
way. The enormous bulk of the Bristol" came
onward, like a great white mountain, to crush her,
and Sarah rang to go astern. The steamer swept
directly past her bows, and hundreds of people
looked down from the lofty decks and admired the
skill with which the pilot of the Mary and Sarah "
had managed her. Perhaps some of them saw a
young girl leaning from the window, and watching
the "Massachusetts" plowing through the water
just behind the other huge vessel.
Before the "Bristol" had fairly passed, Sarah
rang for full speed ahead, and plunged, rocking
and swaying, into the foaming wake of the great
boat. She pulled the wheel sharp over, to bring
her boat around to the west and drag the bark away
from the track of the Massachusetts." The tow-
line had fallen in the water, and the bark was
quite near. She must work fast. There was a
South Brooklyn ferry-boat just behind, waiting
for her to move on. She saw the great wheels of
the "Massachusetts" stop, and knew she would
try to clear the bark. The tow-rope stretched and
shook out a cloud of spray, and the "Mary and
Sarah" churned up the water furiously. All right !
The bark moved, and the Massachusetts swept
on, clear of her stern, at full speed again.
Oh, Mr. Cramp! wake up! Wake up!
There 's no one to help me," cried Sarah.
There was a rush of tears to her eyes, but he
paid no heed, and slept peacefully through it all.
No time for tears. There were two tow-boats,
each with a canal-boat, coming down from the
North River. They whistled for the Mary and
Sarah" to pass between them. She replied to
each, and looked back at the bark. It was towing
straight behind, and she went on and passed the
tows in safety. Now, she must enter the river by
keeping close to Pier No. I, as the great white
boats were on her left just ahead. Oh! worse than
anything yet The "Plymouth Rock," one of the
largest excursion boats, was backing out from the
pier into the stream. Sarah stood on tiptoe to look
if there were masts or smoke-stacks to be seen be-
yond the "Plymouth Rock." There was nothing
to be done but to squeeze in between the pier and
the steamer's bows as she cleared the dock. She
pulled the wheel over, and made directly for the
third arch of the stone pier. If she had her boat
alone she could stop and wait till the way was clear;
but with a heavy ship towing behind, the case was
very different. The bark could not stop, and would
crowd down upon the steamer if that stopped.
On came Sarah, and, at the right moment, she

whirled the wheel over, and blew her whistle furi-
ously so as to urge the "Plymouth Rock" to move
on. Ah she could see clear water between the
boat and pier. She swept on close by the pier-so
near, in fact, that the people on the dock stared in
at her window and wondered to see a young girl at
the wheel, and with an old man asleep on the sofa
behind her.
It would n't do to keep near the docks, and she
struck out into the center of the river, when a
warning whistle on the left startled her. It was a
big ferry-boat coming up from behind the "Ply-
mouth Rock" from Communipaw, and making for
her slip. She rang to reverse the engine, and
looked through the back window at the bark. She
must keep clear of it. The ferry-boat swept across
her bows just as the bark came up with her, and
she called for full speed and went ahead again.
With sharp eyes on the river, she watched every
moving vessel to be seen, every ferry-boat crossing
the river, lazy barges drifting on the tide, and swift
excursion steamers loaded with passengers. She
crossed the Jersey City and Erie ferry tracks, and
began to feel safer. The worst of it was over.
A little higher up, she would turn in toward the
city, and creep slowly up to Pier No. 42, where the
bark was to be left. A deep roaring whistle startled
her, and she looked along the docks to see where
it came from. Ah! The crowd of people on the
next pier but one explained it. It was a steam-ship
coming out of her dock. Sarah blew her whistle
as a warning, but it was to no purpose. The
huge black bows of an ocean steamer moved out
directly in front of her. Either they had not seen
her, or her signal had not been heard. It was too
late for them to stop. She leaned forward and
spoke down the tube: "Go astern, quick-quick! "
She felt the engine stop and reverse, and still
the boat moved forward toward the vast black bulk
before her. She saw an officer wave his hand on the
bridge, and heard the boatswain's whistle. They
were going to put out fenders to break the force
of the collision. Sarah watched them calmly till
she felt the boat stop, then she threw over the
wheel and rang the bell for full speed ahead. The
danger came from the bark towing behind. She
looked behind and saw that it was coming up with
her. In a moment she began to get speed again,
and struck out into the stream at a right angle
with the bark, and parallel with the steam-ship. If
the tow-line held she would save the bark. If it
broke-Well! it was all she could do.
A shadow fell on the pilot-house floor. She had
come directly alongside the Cunarder, and had run
into it sidewise, with a gentle jar. A rope fell down
from the ship, and soon a young man in uniform
stood on the deck in front of Sarah's pilot-house.




What 's this, Miss? What's your tipsy pilot
doing there asleep on the sofa?"
Sarah did not turn, but looked steadily through
the window behind. The "Mary and Sarah"
fairly reeled under the sudden strain,-the tow-line
held,-the bark was safe. She had stopped its
headway, and it swung around under the Cunarder's
stern, and all three vessels drifted out into the
stream together. A hand was laid on hers, and
Sarah found the young officer by her side.
"Oh, sir! the mate was sick, and I had to
take the wheel."
"Yes, Miss, and it was a skillful turn, too.
As clever a bit of seamanship as ever I saw "
Then he bent over the sleeping mate and tried
to rouse him. Another officer slid down the rope
and came to the window of the pilot-house.

"What 's the matter, Hodson?"
"Matter enough, sir," answered Hodson, as he
laboriously, but gently, tried to turn the pilot over;
"and the girl 's had the wheel! "
She's a master hand at steam-boat work," said
the other officer, as he came into the pilot-house.
" Hello! Bring water! The man has fainted!"
But it was not a fainting fit, nor heavy sleep.
What wonder the poor man had not heard Sarah!
Even the men could not rouse him, and when, at
last, he opened his eyes, it was evident that it
would be many a long day before his hand could
guide the wheel again.
"It 's his heart, poor chap," said one of the
sailors looking on, "or else it's a 'plectic stroke.
I've seen folks took that way afore; but they came
out of it all right."

A LITTLE old woman of Dorking
Said: "Well, there is no use a-talking.
When I get to a stile,
I must rest for a while,
Before I go on with my walking."








AFTER the decline of what is termed Ancient
Art,-that is to say (in the strictest sense), Greek
art,-there was a long period, of the individual art-


ists of which we can tell almost nothing. Ancient
Rome was full of wonderful works of art; but
many of them were brought from Greece or other
Eastern countries; many more were made by
Grecian artists in Rome, and, after the time of the
Emperor Augustus, there was a long period of
which we shall not speak.
Giovanni Cimabue, the artist who is honored as
the first Italian that revived any portion of the old
beauty of painting, was born in Florence, in 1240.
He was of a noble family, and his parents allowed
him to follow his inclination for art until, at last, he
painted the Madonna of the Church of Santa Maria
Novella, which has always been, and must continue
to be, a work of great interest. This was done
when the artist was thirty years old.
I fancy that any boy or girl who sees this picture
now, wonders at its ugliness, instead of being
filled with admiration, as were the Florentines six
hundred and ten years ago. But then Cimabue
was watched with intense interest, and all the more
because he would allow no one to see what he was
painting. At length it happened that Charles of
Anjou passed through Florence on his way to his
kingdom of Naples. Of course the noble Floren-

tines did all in their power to entertain this royal
guest, and, among other places, they took him to
the studio of Cimabue, who uncovered his work for
the first time. Many people flocked to see it, and
expressed their delight so loudly that the portion of
the city in which the studio was has ever since been
called the Borgo Allegri, or "the joyous quarter."
When the picture was completed, it was borne to
the church in a grand and solemn procession. The
day was a festival,-music was played, the magis-
trates of Florence graced the occasion with their
presence, and the painter must have felt that he
was more than repaid for all that he had done.
After this, Cimabue became famous all over
Italy. He died about 1302, and was buried in the
church of Santa Maria del Fiore, and above his
tomb were inscribed these words: "Cimabue
thought himself master of the field of painting.
While living, he was so. Now he holds his place
among the stars of heaven."


ONE of the titles that is given to Cimabue is that
of the "Father of Painting"; and this can well
be said of him when we remember that it was
Cimabue who found Giotto, and acted the part of
a father to the boy who was to be such a wonderful
painter. The story is that, when Cimabue was
quite old, and very famous, he was riding in the
valley of Vespignano, a few miles from Florence,
and saw a shepherd-boy, who, while his flocks
were feeding, was making a portrait of one of his
sheep on a bit of slate with a pointed stone.
Cimabue looked at the sketch and found it so good
that he offered to take the little Giotto-who was
only twelve years old-and teach him to paint.
The boy was very happy, and his father-whose
name was Bondone-was glad of this good fortune
for his son; so Giotto di Bondone lived thenceforth
with the noble Cimabue, and was instructed in
letters by Brunetto Latini, who was also the teacher
of the great poet, Dante; while his art studies
were made under his adopted father, Cimabue.
In the first picture by Giotto of which we have
any account, he introduced the portraits of Dante
and his teacher, Latini, with several others. In
later times, when Dante was persecuted by his
enemies in Florence, this picture was covered with
whitewash, and it was only restored to the light
in 1841, after centuries of concealment. It is a




precious memento of the youth of two men of great
genius-Dante and Giotto.
Pope Boniface VIII., hearing, in Rome, of
Giotto's paintings, sent to invite him to his court.
The messenger of the Pope asked Giotto to show
him something of the art which had made him so
famous; and Giotto, taking a sheet of paper and a
pencil, drew quickly, with a single motion,
a circle so perfect that it ..... .1...1 .
a miracle, and gave rise --. I !!- l. ".
which the Italians still lov: r .- ..
Piu londo che P' O di G
(rounder than the 0 of
Giotto). When in Rome,
the artist executed both
mosaics and paintings
for the Pope; and by the'
time that he was thirty
years old, the dukes, % .( I
princes, and kings, far \ .
and near, contended for -
his time and labors., i ,
When at Naples, in '
the employ of King Rob-
ert, one very hot day the -
King said: "Giotto, if
I were you, I would leave
work, and rest."
"So would I, sire, if i
I wereyou," said Giotto. i I
When the same king .
asked him to paint a
picture of his kingdom,
Giotto drew an ass bear-
ing a saddle, on which
were a crown and scep-
ter; on the ground be- '
side the ass was another i
saddle, with a very new
and bright crown and
scepter, which the ass
was eagerly smelling.
This was to signify that
the Neapolitans were so
fickle that they were
always searching for a -_ -
hew king.
Giotto was a great ,
architect besides being
a painter, for he it was "THE MADONNA OF THE
who made all the de-
signs, and even some of the working models, for
the beautiful bell-tower or campanile of Florence,
near the cathedral and baptistry; the picture of it,
on the next page, is taken from a former number
of ST. NICHOLAS. When the Emperor Charles V.
saw this tower he exclaimed, "It should be kept

under glass." A citizen of Verona, who was in
Florence while this tower of Giotto's was being
built, exclaimed that "the riches of two kingdoms
would not suffice for such a work." This speech
being overheard, he was thrown into
prison and kept there sev-
eral weeks, and was
not permitted to
r'., ,r


been taken to the treasury, and convinced that
the Florentines could afford to build a whole city
of marble. Giotto died in 1336, and was buried
in the church of Santa Maria del Fiore, with
great honors, and Lorenzo de' Medici afterward
erected a monument to him.





THE real name of this painter was Christofani
Buonamico. He was born in 1262 and died in
1340, and while no one work can be pointed out

--1 N'. 4i9 ,2: ---


as positively his, he is always remembered on
account of his love of fun and for his practical
jokes. Ghiberti called him a good painter, and
one able to excel all others when he set about it.
When he was a student under Andrea Tafi, that
master compelled all his scholars to rise very early;
this disturbed Buonamico so much that he deter-
mined to find some means of escaping the hard-
ship. As Tafi was very superstitious, Buonamico

ught about thirty large black beetles, and
stened little tapers to their backs; these he
,hted, and then he sent the beetles one by one
to his master's room, about the time when Tafi
is in the habit of rising and calling the pupils
from their sweetest sleep.
When Tafi saw these creatures
moving about in the dark, bearing
their little lights, he did not dare
to get up, and when daylight came,
he hastened to his priest to ask
what could be the meaning of this
strange thing. The priest believed
that he had seen demons, and
when the master talked with Buffal-
macco about it, that rogue con-
firmed this idea by saying that, as
painters always made their pict-
ures of demons so ugly, they were
probably angry, and he thought it
S wise to work only by day, when
these fearful creatures would not
--dare to come near. In the end,
this trick of the young painter was
so successful that not only Tafi,
but all other masters in Florence
abandoned the custom of working
before sunrise.
Upon one occasion, when Buffal-
macco had executed a commission
to paint a picture of the Virgin
with the infant Jesus in her arms,
his employer failed to pay him
-'." his price. The artist needed the
money sorely, and hit upon a
means of getting it. He changed
'! the child in the picture to a young
S bear. When his patron saw it,
.he was so shocked that he offered
to pay him immediately if he would
restore the child to the Virgin's
arms; the painter agreed to this,
and as soon ashe had the money
in his hand, he washed the bear
away and left the picture as it had
been before, for, in painting the
bear upon the child's picture, he
had merely used water-colors to
ve his joke, and had not injured the picture at all.
The stories of this sort which Vasari tells of
affalmacco in his "Lives of the Painters," are
most unending, and we feel that this merry
low must have been light-hearted and happy;
t alas! his end was sad enough, for, when
venty-eight years old, he died in a public hos-
tal, not having saved enough out of all his earn-
gs to buy a crust of bread, nor a decent burial.

* See ST. NICHOLAS for January, 1880.





THE real name of this wonderful artist was
Guido Petri de Mugello. He was born at Fiesole,
near Florence, in 1387. When but twenty years

old he became a monk, and entered the convent
of San Marco at Florence, from which place he
scarcely went out during seventy years. He con-
sidered his painting as a service to the Lord, and
would never make a bargain to paint a picture; he
received his orders from the prior of his convent,
and began his work with fasting and prayer; he
never changed anything when once painted,
because he believed that he was guided by God in
his work. Pope Nicholas V. summoned him to
Rome to paint in the Vatican; it is very curious
that the key to the chapel which Fra Angelico
painted, was lost during two centuries. All this time,
very few people saw his beautiful works there, and
those who entered were obliged to go in by a
window. The chief merits in the works of Fra
Angelico are the sweet and tender expression in
the faces of his angels and saints, and the spirit of
purity that seems to breathe through every paint-
ing which he made.
While he was at Rome, the Pope wished to
make him the Archbishop of Florence; this honor
he would not accept, but after his death he was
called, and is still known, by the title of IlBeato,
or "the Blessed." Many of his works remain in
his own convent at Florence, and I love them most

there, where he lived and worked, and where he
liked best that they should be.


THIS artist was born in 1452, at the castle of
Vinci, in the lower Val d' Arno. He grew to be
a handsome young fellow, full of spirit and fun,
and early showed that he had unusual gifts; he
was a good scholar in mathematics and mechanics,
and wrote poetry and loved music, besides wishing
to be a painter.
His master was Andrea del Verocchio, an eminent
man of his time. Leonardo soon surpassed him;
for while the master was painting a picture of the
Baptism of Christ, the pupil was permitted to aid
him, and an angel which he painted was so beauti-
ful, we are told, that Signor Andrea cast aside his
pencil forever,
" enraged that
a child should -
know more than
himself." '

of recollecting 1A
any face which I .i '
he had seen, and ,,' / / "
could paint it j
after his return I
to his studio. .
Once, a peas- V'1 -
ant brought him N I__I_ i_
a piece of fig- '
tree wood, and
desired to have

apicturepainted Il| I II "
on it. Leonardo i 1 / I ',
determined to / ,
represent a hor- 'I I
ror. He collect- 1 Ji l '
ed lizards, ser-
pents, and other' I
frightful things, r \ '
and from them l -
made a picture '., '
so startling, that
when his father
saw it he ran
away in a fright. '
This was sold
for one hundred FRA ANGELIO,
ducats, and later, to the Duke of Milan, for three
times that sum. It was called the Roealo del Fico,
which means a shield of fig-tree wood."
After a time, Leonardo engaged his services to






the Duke of Milan. He was the court-painter and was in fair preservation, exist in other cities. It
superintendent of all the fltes and entertainments is said that the prior of the convent was very
given at Milan. Leonardo afterward founded an impatient at the time which Leonardo took for this
work, and complained to the
.- Duke. When the artist was
q. questioned, he said that the
trouble of finding a face which
pleased him for that of the
0-, traitor, Judas Iscariot, caused
S.the delay; and added that he
:- was willing to allow the prior
S to sit for this figure, and so
'" shorten the time. This reply
:amused the Duke and silenced
the prior.
SAt length, the misfortunes of
.: -the Duke of Milan made it im-
S possible for him to aid Leonardo
S '-:. farther, and the artist came to
S- '.- poverty. He went next to Flor-
.- ence, where he was kindly re-
'- ceived, but some trouble ensued
between himself and Michael
-". -- Angelo, who was then winning
.... -t, his fame. They both made de-
.-- .15 signs for painting the Palazzo
SVecchio, and as jealousy arose,
'R A Leonardo left the city and went
,'. -* to Rome, where Pope Leo X.
employed him in some impor-
S- .. tant works. He could not be
; .. happy, however; he was not
S'loved and honored as he had
been at Milan, and when he
--' --t" .I &heard that the Pope had criti-
cised his work, he joined the
... : French King Francis I. at Pavia,
where he then was, and re-
Smained with this monarch until
his death. When they went to
...-' Paris, Leonardo was received
PORTRAIT OF THE POET DANTE. PAINTED BY GIOTTO. [SEE PAGE 676.] with much honor, and every-
thing was done for his comfort;
academy of painting there, and was engaged in but his health had failed, and he died at Fon-
bringing the waters of the river Adda into the city tainebleau, where he had gone with the court,
from Mortesana, a distance of more than two hun- in 1519. Leonardo da Vinci may be called the
dred miles. Thus he made himself much fame, "Poet of Painters." One of his most famous
while he led a very gay life, for the court of Milan pictures was the portrait of Mona Lisa del Gio-
was a merry court. condo, sometimes called La Joconde. Leonardo
The greatest work which Leonardo did there was worked on this picture at times, during four years,
the painting of the "Last Supper," on the walls and was never satisfied with it. The painting is
of the Dominican Convent of the Madonna delle now in the gallery of the Louvre at Paris.

Grazie. This picture has remained famous to this
day, and although it is now almost destroyed by
the effect of time, yet such engravings have been
made from it that we can imagine how it looked
when perfect. Some good copies, made while it


THIS great artist was born in the castle of
Caprese, in 1475. His father, who was of a noble



Florentine family, was then gov-.
ernor of Caprese and Chiusi.
When the Buonarotti family re-
turned to Florence, the little ',
Michael Angelo was left with his L
nurse at Settignano, where his .,
father had an estate. The home
of the nurse was there, and for
many years pictures were shown l=i
upon the walls of her house, 'r. 2 :.

drawn as soon as he could use '' ';
his hands. ,.
When Michael Angelo was -',:1 ""'
taken to Florence and placed in l
school, he became the friend of .
Francesco Granacci, who was of
noble family, like himself, and a
pupil of the artist, Ghirlandajo, '..i
one of the best masters in Flor- [I.,I .
ence. Already, Michael Angelo '- '
was unhappy because his father V
did not wish him to be an artist. ,d ,
At length, however, he became I
a pupil of Ghirlandajo, and that
at a time when the master was -
engaged on the great work of -
decorating the choir of the -
church of Santa Maria Novella, 7
at Florence. Thus Michael An-
gelo came immediately into the

he was soon remarked for his complete devotion to at work on it. When Ghirlandajo saw this, he ex-
the work about him. One day, when the work- claimed: "He understands more than I myself."

"_-__-___ 'g .'-.

men were at dinner, the boy made a drawing of the It was not long before he corrected the drawing
scaffolding and all belonging to it, with the painters of the plates which the master gave his pupils to


copy. Then the plates were refused to him, and,
as Lorenzo de' Medici soon gave permission to both
Michael Angelo and Francesco Granacci to study
in the gardens of San Marco, Ghirlandajo was glad
to be free from a pupil who already knew so much.


In the gardens of San Marco, Duke Lorenzo had Flo
placed many splendid works of art, and pictures seat
and cartoons were hung in buildings there, so that lap)
young men could study them. Many young sculp- of
tors worked there, and one Bertoldo, an old man, V
was their teacher. Now Michael Angelo began to paii
model, and his first work was the mask of a faun, on i
which he copied so well as to attract the attention con
of Lorenzo. He praised Michael Angelo, but said:. it r
" You have made your faun so old, and yet you gat(
have left him all his teeth; you should have known was
that, at such an advanced age, there are generally in I
some wanting." When he came again to the gar- was
dens, he found a gap in the teeth of the faun, so fror
well done that he was delighted with it.

oon the Duke sent for the father of Michael
gelo, and obtained his full consent that the boy
uld be an artist. The young sculptor was then
en into the palace; he was treated with great
dness by Lorenzo, and sat at his table, where
he met all the remarkable men of the
day, and listened to such conversation
as is most profitable to a boy. It was
the rule that whoever came first to the
table should sit next the Duke, and
Michael Angelo often had that place.
But all this happy life was sadly
ended by the death of Lorenzo de'
Medici, and Michael Angelo left the
palace and had a room in his father's
house for his work-shop. After a time,
Piero de' Medici invited him again to
the palace, but the young man was
ill at ease, and soon went to Venice.
There he met a sculptor of Bologna,
who induced him to visit that city; but
the commissions he received so excited
the jealousy of other artists that he
returned again to Florence. He was
now twenty years old, and the next
work of his which attracted attention
was a Sleeping Cupid," which so
resembled an antique statue that it was
sold in Rome for a very old work; two
hundred ducats were paid for it, though
Michael Angelo received but thirty
ducats. .By some means the knowl-
edge of this fraud came to Michael
Angelo, and he explained that he had
known nothing of it, but had also been
deceived himself; the result of all this
was, that he went to Rome, and was
received into the house of the noble-
man who had bought the "Cupid."
He remained in Rome about three
years, and executed the "Drunken
Bacchus," now in the Uffizi Gallery at
rence, and "La Pieta" (or the Virgin Mary
:ed, holding the dead body of Jesus across her
, a fine piece of sculpture, now in the Basilica
St. Peter's at Rome.
Vhen he returned to Florence, he executed some
ntings and sculptures, but was soon employed
his "David," one of his greatest works. It was
ipleted and put in its place in 1504, and there
remained more than two centuries-next the
e of the Palazzo Vecchio. A few years ago, it
feared that the beautiful statue would crumble
pieces if longer exposed to the weather, and it
removed to a place where it now stands, safe
n sun and rain.
Vhen the "David" was completed, Michael




Angelo was not quite thirty years old, but his
fame as a great artist was established, and through
all his long life (for he lived eighty-nine years) he
was constantly and industriously engaged in the
production cf important works.
He was not a great painter, a great sculptor, or a
great architect, but he was all of these. His most
famous painting was that of the "Last Judgment"
in the Sistine Chapel of the Vatican. His most

these are, in truth, a small part of all he did.
He served under nine popes, and, during his life,
thirteen men occupied the papal chair. There
were great political changes, also, during this time,
and the whole impression of his life is a serious,
sad one. He seems to have had very little joy or
brightness, and yet he was tender and thoughtful
for all whom he loved. He was an old man before
he met Vittoria Colonna, who was a very wonder-


famous sculptures were the "David," "La Pieta,"
the "Tomb of Pope Julius II.," "Moses," "The
Dying Youth," and the famous statues of "Day"
and "Night"; and his greatest architectural
work is the Cupola of St. Peter's Church. But

ful woman, and much beloved by Michael Angelo.
He wrote poems to her, which are full of affection
and delicate friendship ; and the Italians add the
gift of poetry to all the others which this great
man possessed, and used so nobly and purely.



I _


They associate the name of Michael Angelo Buonar-
otti with those of Dante Alighieri and the painter
Raphael, and speak of these three as the greatest
men of their country,in what are called modern days.

was borne to the church of S. Piero Maggiore.
The funeral was at evening; the coffin, placed
upon a bier, was borne by the younger artists,
while the older ones carried torches; and thus it


Michael Angelo died at Rome in 1564. He
desired to be buried in Florence, but it was feared
that his removal would be opposed. His body
was, therefore, taken through the gate of the city
as merchandise, and, when it reached Florence, it

reached Santa Croce, its final resting-place-the
same church in which the poet Dante was buried.
A few months later, magnificent services were
held in his memory in the church of San Lorenzo,
where are his fine statues of "Day" and "Night,"




made for the Medici chapel of this edifice. A
monument was erected to him in Santa Croce,
and his statue is in the court of the Uffizi; and
the house in which he lived, and which is still
visited by those who honor his memory, contains
many very interesting personal mementos of this
great man, and of the noble spirit in which all his
works were done.
In 1875, a grand festival was made to celebrate
the four hundredth anniversary of his birth. The
ceremonies were very impressive, and, at that time,
some documents, relating to his life, which had
never before been opened, were given over, by
command of the king, into the hands of suitable
persons, to be examined. Mr. Heath Wilson, an
English artist, residing at Florence, wrote a new
life of Michael Angelo, and the last time that the
King, Victor Emmanuel, wrote his own name be-
fore his death, it was on the paper which conferred
upon Mr. Wilson the order of the Corona d' Italia,
in recognition of his services in writing this book.

Enthroned Madonna, Church of S. Maria Novella, Florence.
Madonna, Academy, Florence.
Large Mosaic, in Cathedral at Pisa.
Frescoes in Upper Church of S. Francis, at Assisi.
Virgin, with Angels, Louvre, Paris.
Madonna enthroned, with Angels, National Gallery, London.

St. Francis Wedded to Poverty, Lower Church of St. Francis, at
St. Francis in Glory, Lower Church of St. Francis, at Assisi.
The Navicella, Mosaic in the Vestibule of St. Peter's, at Rome
(much restored).
Virgin and Child, with Saints and Angels, Academy, Florence.
Portrait of Dante, Bargello, Florence.
Very Important Frescoes, in the Church of the Incoronata, at
Virgin and Child, Brera, Milan.
Three Pictures in the Pinakothek, Munich.
St. Francis, of Assisi, Louvre, Paris.
Two Apostles-part of a fresco-National Gallery, London.

A Collection of Ten Pictures in the Academy, at Florence.
Virgin and Child, with Saints, Pitti Gallery, Florence.
Several Pictures in the Uffizi Gallery, Florence.
Three Pictures in the Corsini Palace, Rome.
St. Nicholas of Bari, Vatican Gallery, Rome.'
Madonna and Child, Museum, Berlin.
Enthroned Madonna, Stadel Gallery, Frankfort.
God the Father, in a Glory of Angels, Pinakothek, Munich.
The Annunciation, Royal Museum, Madrid.

The Coronation of the Virgin, Louvre, Paris.
Christ in Glory, National Gallery, London.

Leonardo's Nun, Pitti Gallery, Florence.
Adoration of the Kings, Uffizi Gallery, Florence.
Ecce Homo, Fresco, Brera Gallery, Milan.
The Last Supper, Convent, Milan.
St. Jerome, the Vatican, Rome.
Virgin, Child, and St. John, Dresden Gallery.
La Joconde, Louvre, Paris.
La Belle Feronitre, Louvre, Paris.
(St. John the Baptist, and others attributed to Da Vinci, are also
at the Louvre.)
Mask of a Faun, National Museum, Bargello, Florence.
Statue of Bacchus, National Museum, Bargello, Florence.
Statue of David, at Florence.
Statues of Day and Night, Church of San Lorenzo, Florence.
Statue of Moses, Church of San Pietro in Vincoli, Rome.
Statue of a Captive, Louvre, Paris.
Painting of Sistine Chapel, Vatican, Rome.
Painting of a Madonna, Uffizi Gallery, Florence.
Portrait of Himself, Capitol Gallery, Rome.


(To be continued.)






ERHAPS it was because
she hated cats.
My aunt's house is a
large one,-very like
those you often see when
traveling in the country,
S -square, with windows
all shut, silent doors and
empty porches. The
beauty of my aunt's house
was its back yard, and
back door, with a great, flat
stone step. A gate at the
back of the yard opened on
a lane, where trees grew on each
side, and thickets, which, in summer, are full of
birds, butterflies, and blossoms. The deep ruts
are overgrown with grass; only the breezes pass
to and fro, which flutter the leaves into little
rustling songs. The back door led into a great
kitchen, built ever so many years ago; the rafters
were coffee-colored, for my aunt would never have
them whitewashed. Lots of things were stowed
away among those rafters,-pumpkin-seeds, ears of
corn, bunches of herbs, an old saddle; and, in the
winter, hams and links of sausage swung from the
beams. Piles of paper bulged over their edges,
and the rubbish of years was there, precious to
my aunt, but useless to everybody else.
One day in autumn, Josh, my aunt's man-of-all-
work, while hoisting a bag of dried beans into the
rafters, discovered a pair of gray striped squirrels.
He rattled the beans and "shooed," but they only
skipped beyond his reach, chattering, and stood
on their hind paws, making motions with their fore
paws as if "shooing" Josh in return.
"I do believe, mem," he called to my aunt,
"that these little thieves have come to eat up all
my garden-seeds; but I can't make out why
ground-squirrels should roost up here."
"Let them be, Josh," said my aunt; "I'd
rather have squirrels overhead than cats under
feet; the creatures wont trouble me."
Nor did they; but, when people talked in the
kitchen, the squirrels chattered louder and faster
than ever. Although they dropped seeds and
straws on my aunt's muslin cap, and although Josh
muttered about holes in bags, and muss, and noise,
she would not listen. She declared they were
company for her, and she was certain they would
not forget her friendliness toward them; they

kept their distance, and were always the same
bright, cheerful, happy little beings !
For all this, Josh pondered a plan, and carried
it out. Ground-squirrels," he argued, "had no
business up in the air." So he prepared a bag,
tackled the old horse to the wagon, caught the
squirrels when my aunt went out, put them in the
bag, and rode away up the lane and into the
woods. When he got to a thick spot, dark with
trees, he shook out the squirrels, turned about,
and jogged home, with the satisfaction of having
finished a good job, just a little dashed with
dread of my aunt's scolding, which, any way, was
not so bad as their chatter. Josh opened the
kitchen door and went in. The silence pleased
him, and he began to rub his hands, as his way
was when pleased. He cast his eyes upward and
was instantly greeted with a merry chatter. The
squirrels had got home before him, and were all
the more lively for their voyage in the bag, the
ride in the wagon, and the picnic in the woods!
"Marcy on me!" he cried, his hands falling
apart. Just then the squirrels let drop a hickory-
nut on the bald spot of Josh's head.
"I missed their noise," said my aunt; "they
have been cunning enough to go out nutting."
"Yes," said poor Josh. "They are very cun-
ning, mem; I know so much about them."
Either the indignity of the raid upon them, or
the find of the hickory-nuts, was too much for
the squirrels; shortly after, they disappeared. My
aunt was reminded more than once of their ingrati-
tude, but all she said was-" Wait."
A cat was proposed for a pet once more. "No
cats! my aunt said, looking severely at Josh, who
went out to the barn immediately.
When the spring came, and the lilac-bushes
bloomed, I went to my aunt's-the old kitchen was
my delight. We sat on the door-step in the after-
noon when the sun-rays left the lane, and we could
rest our eyes on the deep cool green of tree and
shrub. My aunt watched the way of the wind,
where the birds flew, and the coming blossoms,
and I watched her. Once, when I happened to be
inside, I heard a suppressed wondering cry from
her, which made me hurry back; I saw her atten-
tion was fixed on the path below the step, and
looked also, to see the most cunning procession that
ever was. My aunt's gray squirrel was trotting
toward us, with tail curled up, and accompanied
by four little ones exactly like her, with their




mites of tails curled up also,-two were on her
back, and two trotted beside her. She came up
to my aunt fearlessly, and the little ones ran about
us. Her motherly joy and pride were plain to be
seen. Then we heard a shrill squeak from the
lilac-bush,-it came from her companion, the father
of the family, who watched the reception. My
aunt sent me for pumpkin-seed, and to see them
snipping the shells and feeding on the meat was
a fine treat. The babies were about a finger's

length, but their tails had as stiff a curl as their
mamma's, and never got out of place. Many a
day afterward, the mother paraded the young
ones on the door-step, and carried home her pouch
full of pumpkin-seed, but the father never put his
dignity off to come any nearer than the lilac-bush.
"Now, you unbelieving Josh," called my aunt
once, "what do you say? "
"Say, mem," looking up at the rafters. "I say
a cat might have druv them away."


SHE sits and smiles through all the summer day;
The sea-gulls and the breezes pass her by;
Her eyes are blue, and look so far away,
She seems to see into another sky.

What does she think of, sitting there so long?
Ah, silly maiden! shall I guess your wish?
" Will some kind artist" [tell me, if I 'm wrong]
"Just please to paint me on a plaque or dish ?"









PRESENTLY we heard a tremendous noise behind
us,-a combination of rumble, rattle, and shout.
It was Red Rover Three going to the fire. She
was for some reason a little belated, and was trying
to make up lost time. At least forty men had
their hands on the drag-rope, and were taking her
along at a lively rate, while the two who held the
tongue and steered the engine, being obliged to
run at the same time, had all they could do. The
foreman was standing on the top, with a large tin
trumpet in his hand, through which he occasion-
ally shouted an order.
Let's take hold of the dfag-rope and run with
her," said Phaeton.
If I had been disposed to make any objection, I
had no opportunity, for Phaeton immediately made
a dive for a place where there was a longer interval
than usual between the men, and seized the rope.
Not to follow him would have seemed like deser-
tion, and I thought if I was ever to be a boy of
spirit, this was the time to begin.
When a boy for the first time laid his hand upon
the drag-rope of an engine under swift motion, he
experienced a thrill of mingled joy and fear to
which nothing else in boy-life is comparable. If
he missed his hold, or tired too soon, he would
almost certainly be thrown to the ground and run
over. If he could hang on, and make his legs fly
fast enough, he might consider himself as sharing
in the glory when the machine rolled proudly up
in the light of the burning building and was wel-
comed with a shout.
There comes to most men, in early manhood, a
single moment which, perhaps, equals this in its
delicious blending of fear and rapture-but let us
leave that to the poets.
Phaeton and I hung on with a good grip, while
the inspiration of the fire in sight, and the enthu-
siasm of our company, seemed to lend us more
than our usual strength and speed. But before we
reached the fire, a noise was heard on a street that
ran into ours at an angle some distance ahead.
The foreman's ear caught it instantly, and he knew
it was Cataract Eight doing her best in order to
strike into the main road ahead of us.
"Jump her, men jump her he shouted, and
pounded on the brakes with his tin trumpet.

The eighty legs and four wheels on which Red
Rover Three was making her way to the fire each
doubled its speed, while forty mouths yelled, Ki
yi! and the excited foreman repeated his admoni-
tion to Jump her, boys! jump her !"
Phaeton and I hung on for dear life, although I
expected every moment to find myself unable to
hang on any longer. Sometimes we measured the
ground in a sort of seven-league-boot style, and
again we seemed to be only as rags tied to the
rope and fluttering in the wind. The two men at
the tongue were jerked about in all sorts of ways.
Sometimes one would be lying on his breast on the
end of it where it curved up like a horse's neck,
and the next minute one or both of them would be
thrown almost under it. Whenever a wheel struck
an uneven paving-stone, these men would be jerked
violently to one side, and we could feel the shock
all along the rope. It seemed sometimes as if the
engine was simply being hurled through the air,
occasionally swooping down enough in its flight to
touch the ground and rebound again. All the
while the church-bells of the city, at the mercy of
sextons doubly excited by fire and 'fees, kept up a
direful clang. I doubt whether the celebrated
clang of Apollo's silver bow could at all compare
with it.
As we neared the forks of the road, the foreman
yelled and pounded yet more vociferously, and
through the din we could hear that Cataract Eight
was doing the same thing. At last we shot by the
corner just in time to compel our rival to fall in
behind us, and a minute or two later, we burst
through the great ring of people that surrounded
the fire, and made our entrance, as it were, upon
the stage, with the roaring, crackling flames of
three tall buildings for our mighty foot-lights.
We had "jumped her."
The fire was in the Novelty Works-an estab-
lishment where were manufactured all sorts of small
wares in wood and iron. The works occupied three
buildings, pretty close together, surrounded by a
small strip of yard. Either because the firemen,
from the recent demoralization of the department,
were long in coming upon the ground, or for some
other reason, the fire was under good headway, and
all three buildings were in flames, before a drop of
water was thrown.
Phaeton whispered to me that we had better get
away from the engine now, or they might expect
us to work at.the brakes; so we dodged back and

* Copyright, i88o, by Rossiter Johnson. All rights reserved.




forth through the crowd, and came out in front of
the fire at another point. Here we met Monkey
Roe, who had run with Red Rover's hose-cart, was
flushed with excitement, and was evidently enjoy-
ing the fire most heartily.
"Oh, the fire 's a big one !" said he, about
the biggest we ever had in this town-or will be,
before it gets through. I have great hopes of that
old shanty across the road; it ought to have been
burned down long ago. If this keeps on much
longer, that '11 have to go. Don't you see the
paint peeling off already? "
The old shanty referred to was a large wooden
building used as a furniture factory, and it cer-

sis, "we have washed Cataract Eight, we can wash
Cataract Eight, and we will wash Cataract Eight."
There were older people than Monkey Roe to
whom the washing of Cataract Eight, rather than
the extin guishment of fires, was the chief end of
a company's existence.
"Yes," said I, catching some of Monkey's
enthusiasm, in addition to what I had already
acquired by running with Red Rover, "I think we
can wash her."
The next moment I was pierced through and
through by pangs of conscience. Here was I, a
boy whose uncle was a member of Cataract Eight,
and who ought, therefore, to have been a warm

.. :.. -,.

; ". .
' -'"': ', ;;, ..." :'.:"; -


tainly did look as if Monkey's warmest hopes
would be realized. I observed that he wore a
broad belt of red leather, on which was inscribed
the legend:

"Monkey," said I, "what does that queer motto
mean, on your belt?"
Why, don't you know that ? said he; that's
Red Rover's motto."
"Yes, of course it is," said I; "but what does
it mean ?"
"It means," said Monkey, with solemn empha-
VOL. VIII.-44.

admirer and partisan of that company, not only
running to a fire with her deadly rival, but openly
expressing the opinion that she could be washed.
But such is the force of circumstances in their rela-
tive distance--smaller ones that are near us often
counterbalancing much larger ones that happen, for
the moment, to be a little farther off. It did not
occur to me to be ashamed of myself for expressing
an opinion which was not founded on a single fact
of any kind whatever. The consciences of very
few people seem ever to be troubled on that point.
The Hook-and-Ladder is short of hands to-
night," said Monkey. I think I '11 take an ax."
"What does he mean by taking an ax?" said
I to Phaeton.
"I don't know," said Phaeton, as Monkey Roe




turned to push his way through the excited crowd;
"but let's follow him, and find out."
Monkey passed around the corner into the next
street, where stood a very long, light carriage,
with two or three ladders upon it and a few axes in
sockets on the sides. These axes differed from
ordinary ones in having the corner of the head
prolonged into a savage-looking spike.
Monkey spoke to the man in charge, who
handed him an ax and a fireman's hat. This hat
was made of heavy sole-leather, painted black, the
crown being rounded into a hemisphere, and the
rim extended behind so that it covered his shoulder-
blades. On the front was a shield ornamented
with two crossed ladders and a figure 2.
He took the ax, and put on the hat, leaving
his own, and at the man's direction went to where
a dozen ax-men were chopping at one side of a
two-story wooden building that made a sort of
connecting-link between the Novelty Works and
the next large block.
Monkey seemed to hew away with the best of
them; and, though they were continually changing
about, we could always tell him from the rest by
his shorter stature and the fact that his hat seemed
too large for him.
Before long, a dozen firemen, with a tall ladder
on their shoulders, appeared from somewhere, and
quickly raised it against the building. Three of
them then mounted it, dragging up a pole with an
enormous iron hook at the end. But there was no
projection at the edge of the roof into which they
could fix the hook.
Stay where you are shouted the foreman to
them through his trumpet. Then to the assistant
foreman he shouted:
"Send up your lightest man to cut a place."
The assistant foreman looked about him, seized
on Monkey as the lightest man, and hastily ordered
him up.
The next instant, Monkey was going up the
ladder, ax in hand; he passed the men who were
holding the hook, and stepped upon the roof.
While he stood there, we could see him plainly, a
dark form against a fiery background, as, with a
few swift strokes, he cut a hole in the roof, perhaps
a foot from the edge.
The hook was lifted once more, and its point
settled into the place thus prepared for it. The
pole that formed the handle of the hook reached
in a long slope nearly to the ground, and a heavy
rope formed a continuation of it. At the order of
the foreman, something like a hundred men seized
this rope and stretched themselves out in line for a
big pull. At the same time, some of the firemen
near the building, seeing the first tongues of flame
leap out of the window nearest to the ladder,-for'

the fire had somehow got into this wooden building
also,-hastily pulled down the ladder, leaving
Monkey standing on the roof, with no apparent
means of escape.
A visible shudder ran through the crowd, fol-
lowed by shouts of Raise the ladder again "
The ladder was seized by many hands, but in a
minute more it was evident that it would be useless
to raise it, for the flames were pouring out of every
window, and nobody could have passed up or down
it alive.
"Stand from under!" shouted Monkey, and
threw his ax to the ground.
Then, getting cautiously over the edge, he seized
the hook with both hands, threw his feet over it,
thus swinging his body beneath it, and came down
the pole and the rope hand over hand, like his
agile namesake, amid the thundering plaudits of
the multitude.
As soon as he was safely landed, the men at the
rope braced themselves for a pull, and with a Yo,
heave, ho the whole side of the building was
torn off and came over into the street with a deafen-
ing crash, while a vast fountain of fire rose from its
ruins, and the crowd swayed back as the heat
struck upon their faces.
By this time, all the engines were in position, had
stretched their hose, and were playing away vigor-
ously. The foremen were sometimes bawling
through their trumpets, and sometimes battering
them to pieces in excitement. The men that held
the nozzles and directed the streams were gradually
working their way nearer and nearer to the build
ings,, as the water deadened portions of the fire
and diminished the heat. And, through all the din
and uproar, you could hear the steady, alternating
thud of the brakes as they struck the engine-boxes
on either side. Occasionally this motion, on some
particular engine, would be quickened for a few
minutes, just after a vigorous oration by the fore-
man; but it generally settled back into the regular
And now a crack appeared in the front wall of
one of the tall brick buildings, near the corner,
running all the way from ground to roof. A sup-
pressed shout from the crowd signified that all had
noticed it, and served as warning to the hose-men
to look out for themselves.
The crack grew wider at the top. The immense
side wall began to totter, then hung poised for a
few breathless seconds, and at last broke from the
rest of the building and rushed down to ruin.
It fell upon the burning wreck of the wooden
structure, and sent sparks and fire-brands flying for
scores of yards in every direction.
The hose-men crept up once more under the now
dangerous front wall, and sent their streams in at



its,.] PHAETON ROGERS. 691

the windows, where a mass of living flame seemed
to drink up the water as fast as it could be deliv-
ered, and only to increase thereby.
It might have been ten minutes, or it might
have been an hour, after the falling of the side
wall,-time passes so strangely during excitement,
-when another great murmur from the crowd an-
nounced the trembling of the front wall. The
hose-men were obliged to drop the nozzles and run
for their lives.
After the preliminary tremor which always oc-
curs, either in reality or in the spectator's imagina-
tion, the front wall doubled itself down by a diago-
nal fold, breaking off on a line running from the
top of the side wall still standing to the bottom
of the one that had fallen, and piling itself in a
crumbled mass, out of which rose a great cloud of
dust from broken plaster.
The two other brick buildings, in spite of the
thousands of gallons of water that were thrown into
them, burned on fiercely till they burned them-
selves-out. But no more walls fell, and, for weeks
afterward, the four stories of empty and blackened
ruin towered in a continual menace above their
That old shanty which Monkey Roe had hoped
would burn, had been saved by the unwearied ex-
ertions of the firemen, who from the moment the
engines were in action had kept it continually wet.
"The best of the fire was over," as an habitual
fire-goer expressed it, the crowd was thinning out,
and Phaeton and I started to look for Ned, who,
poor fellow! was pining in a dungeon, where he
could only look through iron bars upon a square of
reddened sky.
We had hardly started upon this quest when
several church-bells struck up a fresh alarm, and
the news ran from mouth to mouth that there was
another fire; but nobody seemed to know exactly
where it was.
Let's follow one of the engines," said Phaeton;
and this' time we cast our lot with Rough-and-Ready
Seven,-not with hand on the drag-ropes to assist
in "jumping" her, but rather as ornamental tail-
"I think I shall take an ax this time," said
Phaeton, as we ran along.
"I 've no doubt you could handle one as well as
Monkey Roe," said I,-"that is,"-and here I
hesitated somewhat,-" if you had on an easy suit
of clothes. Mine seem a little too tight to give
free play to your arms."
Oh, as to that," said Phaeton, who had fairly
caught the fireman fever, "if I find the coat too
tight, I can throw it off."
The second fire was in Mr. Glidden's house.
It had probably arisen from cinders wafted from

the great fire and falling upon the frontsteps. All
about the front door was in a blaze.
At the sight of this, Phaeton seemed to become
doubly excited. He rushed to the Hook-and-
Ladder carriage, and came back in a minute with
an ax in his hand, and on his head a fireman's hat,
which seemed somewhat too large for him, and
gave him the appearance of the victorious gladi-
ator in G6r6me's famous picture.
He seemed now to consider himself a veteran
fireman, and, without orders from anybody, rushed
up to the side door and assaulted it vigorously,
shivering it, with a few blows, into a thousand
He passed in through the wreck, and, for a few'
minutes, was lost to sight. I barely caught a
glimpse of a man passing in behind him. What
took place inside of the house, I learned afterward.
Miss Glidden had been sitting up reading
" Ivanhoe," and had paid no attention to the great
fire, excepting to look through the window a few
minutes on the first alarm. Hearing this thunder-
ing noise at the door, she stepped to the head of
the stairs, in a half-dazed condition, and saw
ascending them, as she expressed it, "a grotesque
creature, in tight clothes, wearing an enormous
medieval helmet, and bearing in his hand a
gleaming battle-ax." She could only think him
the ghost of a Templar, and scream in affright.
The man, who had gone in after Phaeton, passed
him on the stairs, and soon emerged from the
house, bearing the young lady in his arms. It
was Jack-in-the-Box.
Phaeton came out a few minutes later, bringing
her canary in its cage.
"This must be put in a safe place," said he to
me; "Miss Glidden thinks the world of it. I '11
run home with it, and come back again." And he
ran off, just escaping arrest at the hands of a
policeman who thought he was stealing the bird,
but who was not able to run fast enough to catch
Meanwhile, the firemen were preparing to extin-
guish the new fire. There was no water-supply
near enough for a single engine to span the dis-
tance. Some of them had been left at the great
fire, to continue pouring water upon it, while the
chief-engineer ordered four of them to take care of
this one.
They formed two lines, Red Rover Three and
Big Six taking water from the canal and sending it
along to Cataract Eight and Rough-and-Ready
Seven, who threw it upon the burning house.
As Phaeton, Jack-in-the-Box, Miss Glidden, and
the canary emerged from the house, half a dozen
men rushed in-some of them firemen, and some
citizens who had volunteered their help. In a





little while, one of them appeared at an upper
window, having in his hands a large looking-glass,
with an elaborately carved frame. Without stop-

ping to open the window, he dashed the mirror
through sash, glass, and all, and as it struck the
ground it was shivered into a thousand fragments.
Then another man appeared at the window with
an armful of small framed pictures, and, taking
them one at a time by the corner, "scaled them
out into the air.

Then the first man appeared again, dragging a
mattress. Resting this on the window-sill, he tied
axrope around it, and let it down slowly and care-
fully to the ground.
The second man appeared again, in turn; this
time with a handsome china wash-bowl and pitcher,
which he sent out as if they had been shot from a
cannon. In falling, they just escaped smashing
the head of a spectator. Bearing in mind, I sup-
pose, the great mercantile principle that a "set"
of articles should always be kept together, he hur-
riedly threw after them such others as he found on
the wash-stand,-the cake of soap striking the
chief-engineer in the neck, while the tall, heavy
slop-jar-hurled last of all to complete the set-
turned some beautiful somersaults, emptying its
contents on Lukey Finnerty, and landed in the
midst of a table full of crockery, which had been
brought out from the dining-room.
Next appeared, at another upper window, two
men carrying a bureau that proved to be too large
to go through. With that promptness which is so
necessary in great emergencies, one of the men
instantly picked up his ax, and, with two or three
blows, cut the bureau in two in the middle, after
which both halves were quickly bundled through
the window and fell to the ground.
The next thing they saved was a small, open
book-case filled with handsomely bound books.
They brought it to the window, with all the books
upon it, rested one end on the sill, and then, trip-
ping up its heels, started it on the hyperbolic curve
made and provided for projectiles of its class. If
the Commissioner of Patents could have seen it
careering through the air, he would have rejected
all future applications for a monopoly in revolving
book-cases. When it reached the ground, there
was a general diffusion of good literature.
They finally discovered, in some forgotten closet,
a large number of dusty hats and bonnets of a
by-gone day, and came down the stairs carefully
bringing a dozen or two of them. Close behind
them followed the other men, one having his arms
full of pillows and bolsters, while the other carried
three lengths of old stove-pipe.
"We saved what we could," said one, with an
evident consciousness of having done his duty.
"Yes," said another, "and it's too hot to go
back there, though there's lots of furniture that
has n't been touched yet."
Meanwhile, the Hook-and-Ladder company had
fastened one of their great hooks in the edge of the
roof, and were hauling away, with a "Yo, heave,
ho !" to pull off the side of the house. They had
only got it fairly started, separated from the rest of
the frame by a crack of not more than five or six
inches, when the chief-engineer came up and




ordered them to desist, as he expected to be able
to extinguish the fire.
And now the engines were in full play. A little
trap-door in the top of Cataract Eight's box was
open, and the assistant foreman of Red Rover
Three was holding in it the nozzle of Three's hose,
which discharged a terrific stream.
The same was true of Big Six and Rough-and-
Ready Seven.
I never heard a more eloquent orator than the
foreman of Cataract Eight, as he stood on the box
of his engine, pounded with his trumpet on the
air-chamber, and exhorted the men to "down with
the brakes "; "shake her up lively "; rattle the
irons"; "don't be washed," etc., all of which ex-
pressions seemed to have one meaning, and the
brakes came down upon the edges of the box like
the blows of a trip-hammer, making the engine
dance about as if it were made of pasteboard.
The foreman of Red Rover Three was also ex-
cited, and things in that quarter were equally
For a considerable time it was an even contest.
Eight's box was kept almost full of water, and no
more; while it seemed as if both companies had
attained' the utmost rapidity of stroke that flesh
and bones were capable of, or wood and iron could
But at last four fresh men, belonging to Red
Rover Three, who had been on some detached
service, came up, leaped upon the box, and each
putting a foot upon the brakes, added a few pounds
to their momentum.
The water rose rapidly in Eight's box, and in
about a minute completely overflowed it, drenching
the legs of her men, and making everything dis-
agreeable in the vicinity.
A shout went up from the by-standers, and
Three's men instantly stopped work, took off their
hats, and gave three tremendous cheers.
We had washed her.
Big Six was trying to do the same thing by
Rough-and-Ready Seven, and had almost suc-
ceeded, when the hose burst. Phaeton and I were
standing within a step of the spot where it gave
way, and we ourselves were washed.
"Let's go home," said he, as he surrendered
his ax and fire-hat to a Hook-and-Ladder man.
Yes," said I, "it 's time. They 've poured
water enough into that house to float the Ark, and
all the best of the fire is over."
As we left the scene of our labors, I observed
that my Sunday coat, besides being drenched, was
split open across the back.
"Phaeton," said I, calling his attention to the
rent, "you forgot to throw off my coat when you
went to work with the ax, did n't you ?"

"That's so," said he. "The fact is, I suppose
I must have been a little excited."
"I 've no doubt you were," said I. "Putting
out fires and saving property is very exciting



IT was not yet morning, and my rope-ladder
was still hanging out when Phaeton and I reached
the house. We climbed up, and as soon as he
could tie up his wet clothes in a bundle, he went
down again and ran home.
When our family were assembled at the break-
fast-table, I had to go through those disagreeable
explanations which every boy encounters before he
arrives at the age when he can do what he pleases
without giving a reason for it. At such a time, it
seems to a boy as if those who ought to sympathize
with him had set themselves up as determined
antagonists, bringing out by questions and com-
ments the most unfavorable phase of everything
that has happened, and making him feel that,
instead of a misfortune to be pitied, it was a crime
to be punished. Looking at it from the boy's
side, it is, perhaps, wisest to consider this as a
necessary part of man-making discipline; but, from
the family's side, it should appear, as it is, a
cowardly proceeding.
It was in vain that I strove to interest our family
with vivid descriptions of how we. jumped Red
Rover Three, how we washed Cataract Eight, and
how we saved Mr. Glidden's property. I suppose
they were deficient in imagination; they could
realize nothing but what was before them, visible
to the physical eye; their minds continually
reverted to the comparatively unimportant ques-
tion as to how my clothes came to be in so dreadful
a condition. As if 't was any fault of mine that
Big Six's hose burst, or as if I could have known
that it would burst at that particular spot where
Phaeton and I were standing.
The only variation from this one-stringed harp
was when they labored ingeniously to make it
appear that the jumping, the washing, and the
saving would all have been done quite as effectually
if I had been snug in bed at home.
Phaeton came over to tell me that Ned was
"I don't wonder that we did n't happen to run
across him in that big crowd," said he; "but I
should n't think he 'd stay so long as this. Do you
think anything can have happened to him?"
"What could happen?" said I.
"He may have taken an ax, and ventured too




far into some of the burning buildings," said
"No," said I, after a moment's consideration;
"that would n't be like Ned. He might be very
enthusiastic about taking care of the fire, but he
would n't forget to take care of himself. However,
I '1I go with you to look for him."
As we went up the street, we came upon Patsy
Rafferty and Teddy Dwyer, pushing Phaeton's car
before them, with Jimmy the Rhymer in it. They
were taking him out to see what remained of the
fire. Jimmy said he was getting well rapidly, and
expected soon to be about again on his own legs.
A few rods farther on, we met Ned walking
toward home.
Hello Where have you been all this time?"
said Phaeton.
Can't you tell by the feathers ?" said Ned.
"What feathers?"
Jail-bird feathers. I 've been in jail all night."
Of course we asked him how that came about,
and Ned told us the story of his captivity, which
the reader already knows.
"But how did you get out?" said Phaeton, with
natural solicitude.
"Why, when 'Squire Moore came to the office
and opened the court, I was brought out the first
one. And when I told him my story, and whose
boy I was, he said of course I was; he 'd known
Father too many years not to be able to tell one
of his chickens as soon as it peeped. He advised
me not to meddle any more with burglar things,
and then told me to go home. 'Squire Moore 's
the 'squire for my money! But as for that stupid
policeman, I '11 sue him for false imprisonment,
if Aunt Mercy will let me have the funds to pay a
lawyer. "
"Aunt Mercy's pretty liberal with you," said
Phaeton, "but she'll never give you any such
amount as that."
When Ned heard of our adventures at the fire,
he fairly groaned.
"It would be just like my luck," said he, "if
there should n't be another good fire in this town
for a year."
The lost brother being found, Phaeton said the
next thing to be done was to take home the
bird he had rescued. I went with him on this
As we approached the house, Phaeton carry-
ing the bird-cage, a scene of desolation met our
eyes. Nearly everything it contained had been
brought out-of-doors, and had sustained more or
less injury. The house itself, with all the windows
and doors, smashed out, the front burned to char-
coal, the side so far wrenched apart from the rest
of the frame that it could not be replaced, and the

whole browned with smoke and drenched with
water, was a melancholy wreck.
Mr. Glidden and his son John stood in the yard
looking at it, and their countenances, on the whole,
were rather sorrowful.
"Good-morning, Mr. Glidden," said Phaeton.
"Good-morning, sir."
"I should like to see Miss Glidden," said Phae-
She is at her aunt's, on West street," said Mr.
Phaeton seemed a little disappointed.
"I 've brought home her bird," said he. "I
carried it out when the house was on fire, and took
it up to our house for safety."
My sister will be very much obliged to you,"
said John Glidden. I 'll take charge of it."
Phaeton intimated his entire willingness to run
over to West street with the bird at once, saying
that he knew the house where she was staying, per-
fectly well; but John said he would n't trouble him
to do that, and took the cage, which Phaeton gave
up with some appearance of reluctance.
I don't believe the smell of smoke will be good
for that bird," said Phaeton, as we walked away.
"Canaries are very tender things. He 'd better
have let me carry it right over to his sister."
Yes," said I, and relieve her anxiety of mind
about it. But I suppose he and his father are
thinking of nothing but the house."
"I don't wonder at that," said Phaeton. "It
must be a pretty serious thing to have your house
and furniture knocked to pieces in that way. And
the water seems to do as much harm as the fire."
"Yes, and the axes more than either," said I.
"But it can't be helped. Houses will get on fire
once in a while, and then, of course, they must
either be put out or torn down."
"I am inclined to think it can be helped," said
Phaeton. "I 've been struck with an idea this
morning, and if it works out as well as I hope, I
shall be able to abolish all the engines and ax-men,
and put out fires without throwing any water on
"That would be a tremendous invention," said
I. "What is it?"
"Wait till I get it fully worked out," said he,
"and then we'11 talk it over. It needs a picture
to explain it."
A day or two afterward, Phaeton asked me to go
with him to see Jack-in-the-Box, as he had com-
pleted his invention, and wanted to consult Jack
about it.
By the way," said he, as we were walking up
the street, "I received something this morning
which will interest you."
He took from his pocket, and handed me, a note




written on delicate scented paper and folded up
in a triangle. It was addressed to "Dear Mr.
Rogers," and signed "V. Glidden." It acknowl-
edged the receipt of the bird, and thanked him
handsomely for his "gallantry in rescuing dear
little Chrissy from the flames."
That's beautiful," said I, as I folded it up and
handed it back to Phaeton, who read it again
before putting it into his pocket.
"Yes," said he, "that's lovely."
"You never were called 'Mr. Rogers' before,
were you? said I. "No," said Phaeton.
"I tell you what't is, Fay," said I, we'ree
getting along in life."
"Yes," said he; "youth glides by rapidly. It
was only a little while ago that we had never run
with a machine, never taken an ax at a fire, and
-never received a note like this."
"And now," said I, "we-that is, you-have
made an invention to abolish all fire departments.'
"If it works," said Phaeton.
I have n't the least doubt that it will," said I,
although I had not the remotest idea what it was.
Jack, who had just flagged a train, and was roll-
ing up his flag as we arrived, cordially invited us
into his box.
"I want to.consult you about one more inven-
tion," said Phaeton, "if you 're not tired of them."
"Never tired of them," said Jack. "I have
found something to admire in every one you 've
presented, though they were not all exactly practi-
cable. The only way to succeed is to persevere."
"It 's very encouraging to hear you say'so,"
said Phaeton. "The thing that I want to consult
you about to-day is a method of putting out fires
without throwing water upon the houses or chop-
ping them all to pieces."
"That would be a great thing," said Jack.
"How do you accomplish it?"
"By smothering them," said Phaeton.
"I know you can smother a small fire with a
thick blanket," said Jack, "but how are you going
to smother a whole house when it is in a blaze ? "
If you will look at this drawing," said Phaeton,
"you will easily understand my plan." And he
produced a sheet of paper and unfolded it.
"I first build a sort of light canvas tent," he
continued, "somewhat larger than an ordinary
house. It has no opening, except that the bottom
is entirely open, and there is a long rope fastened
to each of the lower corners. Then I have a bal-
loon, to which this tent is fastened in place of a car.
The balloon lifts the tent just as far as the ropes-
which are fastened to something-will let it go."
"That's plain enough," said Jack.

"Then," continued Phaeton, "whenever a fire
,occurs, the firemen (it needs only a'few) take these
ropes in their hands and start for the fire, the tent
and balloon sailing along over their heads. When
they get there, they let it go up till the bottom of
the tent is higher than the top of the burning
house, and then bring it down right over the
house, so as to inclose it, and hold the bottom
edge close against the surface of the ground till the
fire is smothered."
I see," said Jack; the theory is perfect."
"I have not forgotten," said Phaeton, "that the


tent itself might take fire before they could fairly
get it down over the house. To prevent that, I
have a barrel of water below the balloon and above
the tent, with a few gimlet-holes in the bottom;
so there is a continual trickle, which just keeps the
tent too wet to take fire easily."
"That 's clear," said Jack. "It 's the wet-
blanket principle reduced to scientific form."
"And how shall I manage it ?" said Phaeton.
"As to that," said Jack, "the most appropriate
man to consult is the chief-engineer."

(To be continued.)







THE first introduction of the aquarium reveal
another world and its inhabitants,-a world of en
chantment, far surpassing any described in the
Arabian Nights or fairy tales,-a world teeming
with life so strange that some of it we can
scarcely believe to be real.
The modern aquarium has laid bare
secrets that have been locked in the breast -
of the ocean for ages. Through the
crystal sides of the marine tanks are
now shown living animals, of forms
so lovely and delicate as to remirid
us of the tracery of frost-work.
We can behold in the trans-
parent waters fishes circling
about, with distended
fins that resemble the
gorgeous wings of but
terflies; and we can
see, glancing here
and there, other
fish, the glit-
ter of whose
glossy sides
dazzles us,
and is


various in hue as the rainbow; and the rocks at
the bottom are carpeted with animals in the forms
of lovely flowers !
Although marine animals may surpass the in-
habitants of fresh water in strangeness of form
and tint, there are some fresh-water fish noon



appears to
have lavish-
ed her colors;
and there are
etlough aquatic
objects to be found
in any stream or
pond, to keep all the
readers of ST. NICHO-
LAS busy and happy for
years in studying their
habits and natural history.
One must have a certain
amount of knowledge of the
habits of an animal before he
can expect to keep it in a thriving
condition in captivity. This knowl-
edge is gained by observation, and
success depends upon the common sense
displayed in discreetly using the informa-
S tion thus obtained.
Do not make the common mistake of sup-
Sposing that an aquarium is only a globe or
ornamental tank, made to hold a few lazy gold-
fish, with a forlorn little turtle. But if you deter-
mine to have an aquarium, have one whose contents
will afford a constant source of amusement and in-
struction-one that will attract the attention and
interest of a visitor as soon as he or she enters the
room where it is. Do not have china swans floating
about upon the top of the water, nor ruined castles
submerged beneath the surface. Such things are in
bad taste. Generally speaking, ruined castles are
not found at the bottoms of lakes and rivers, and
china swans do not swim on streams and ponds.



Sea-shells, corals, etc., should not be used in a fresh-
water aquarium; they not only look out of place,
but the lime and salts they contain will injure both
fish and plant. Try to make your aquarium a min-
iature lake in all its details, and you will find the
effect more pleasing to the eye. By making the
artificial home of the aquatic creatures conform as
nearly as possible to their natural ones, you can
keep them all in a healthy and lively condition.
At the bird-stores and other places where objects

-4 -._______________

the advantageous distribution of its bulk over large
spaces." In other words, flat, shallow vessels are
the best. When quite a small boy, the writer
discovered this fact by pouring half the minnows
from a pail into a large flat dish, that he might
better see them swim about; here they were for-
gotten for the time; on the morrow all the fish in
the pail were found to be dead, but those in the
flat dish were perfectly lively and well.
In the light of this fact, he set to work to build


in natural history are sold, you may buy an
aquarium of almost any size you wish, from
the square tank with heavy iron castings to
the small glass globe; the globes come in ten sizes.
If the manufacturers of aquaria in this country
had made it their object to build vessels in which
no respectable fish could live, they could hardly
have succeeded better, for they all violate this first
rule: The greater the surface of water exposed to
the air, the greater the quantity of oxygen absorbed
from the atmosphere.
Amateurs never seem to learn that the value
of water depends not so much on its bulk, as on


himself an aquarium. The materials for its con-
struction were bought of the town-glazier and
sign-painter's son. The amount paid was several
marbles, a broken-bladed Barlow knife, and a
picture of the school-teacher, sketched in lead-
pencil upon the fly-leaf of a spelling-book. In
exchange for this heap of wealth, the author
received four pieces of window-glass, some red
paint, an old brush, and a lump of putty. Two
or three days' work resulted in the production of








an aquarium. It was only twelve inches long,
eight inches wide, and four inches high; but,
although this tank was. small, it was a real aqua-
rium, and would hold water and living pets.

.<--1 I
,* -% ,
;. 4 % .

, ... ..-L

If you wish to keep a turtle, a frog, a craw-fish,
or any such animal, you should have your rockery
so arranged that part of it will protrude above the
water; or, better still, have a.land-and-water aqua-


With a dip-net, made of an old piece of mos-
quito-netting, what fun it was to explore the spaces
between the logs of the rafts in front of the old
saw-mill and what
+ -lriou littl.. anim-ils

'.' r. l. ,,, l ,king

',. I .'o ti-. f.T-rm s


looked like bits of sticks; young spoon-bill fish
(paddle-fish), with exaggerated upper lips one-
third the length of their scaleless bodies; funny
little black cat-fish, that looked for all
the world like tadpoles, and scci; .:
other creatures. Under the greer
station in those spaces they found ., .!
retreat from the attacks of the larg: r I,:
If possible, have your
aquarium made under



rium, such as is shown in Figures Nos. 3 and 4. With
a tank made upon this plan, you can have aquatic
plants, as well as land plants and flowers, a sandy
beach for the turtle to sleep upon, as he loves to
do, and a rockery for the craw-fish to hide in and
keep out of mischief. Some species of snails, too,
like to crawl occasionally above the water-line.
Such an aquarium makes an interesting object for
the conservatory.
Figure No. 5 shows how a fountain can be made.
The opening of the fountain should be so small as
to allow only a fine jet of water to issue from it;
the reservoir or supply-tank should be away out of
sight and quite large, so that, by filling it at night,
the fountain will keep playing all day. The waste-
pipe should open at the level you intend to keep
the water, and the opening should be covered with
a piece of mosquito-netting, to prevent any creature
from being drawn in.
There used to be, in the window of a jewelry store

L-' I'

your own eye qu. aSuppose
you wish one two feet __ 1it Y ._'.I
long; then it should beh -
sixteen inches wide and .''
seven inches high, or -.-
24" X 7" X I6'". Figure
No. I shows an aquarium
of the proper form and pro- FIGURE NO. 4. LAND-AND-WATER AQUARIUM.
portions, in agreement with nature. Figure No. 2 in Newark, Ohio, an ordinary glass fish-globe, in
shcws the popular but unnatural and improper form. which lived and thrived a saucy little brook-trout.



" ,:, 1 ,


Brook-trout, as most of my readers
know, are found only in cool running
water, and will not live for any great
length of time in an ordinary aqua-
rium. In this case, an. artificial circu-
lation of water was produced by means
of a little pump run by clock-work.
Every morning the jeweler wound up .
the machine, and all day long the lit-
tle pump worked, pumping up the -
water from the globe, only to send
it back again in a constant but small
stream, which poured from the little
spout, each drop carrying with it into
the water of the globe a small quan-
tity of fresh air, including, of course,
oxygen gas. (See Figure No. 6.) And
the little speckled trout lived and
thrived, and, for aught I know to the
contrary, is still swimming around in
his crystal prison, waiting, with ever
ready mouth, to swallow up the blue-
bottle flies thrown to him by his friend
the jeweler. It is a great
-mistake to suppose that
it is necessary to change
the water in an aquarium
every few days. The tank
S should be so arranged as
to require a change of
water but very seldom.
This is not difficult to
S accomplish, even without
the help of a fountain
or of clock-work. Both
plants and animals
breathe, and what is life
to the plant is poison to
the animal. They are like

Jack Sprat
and his wife. li
Animals ab-
sorb oxygen
and throw ---
off carbon-
ic acid gas; -_
this gas the
plants in-
hale, sepa-
rating it in-
to carbon
and oxygen,
the carbon,
which is converted into their vegetable tissue,
and throwing off the free oxygen, for the animals


to breathe. So you see that, by having plants as
well as animals in your tank, both classes are sup-
plied with breathing material. When you start
your aquarium, first cover the bottom with sand
and gravel. Then
build your rockery;
it is better to cement
it together and into

After this is all ar-
ranged, go to the
nearest pond, or
creek, and dredge up
some water-plants.
Any that are not too
large will do,-star-
wort, millfoil,bladder-
wort, pond-weed, etc.
Fasten the roots of
your plants to small FIGURE NO. 6. CLOCK-WORK PUP.
stones with a bit of
string, and arrange them about the tank to suit your
taste. Fill the tank with water, and let it stand in
the window for a week or two, where it will receive
plenty of light, but no sun. By that time all your
plants will be growing, and numerous other little
plants will have started into life of their own
accord. Then you may add your animals, and, if
you do not overstock the tank, you need never
change the water. Be sure not to handle the fish;
but when you wish to remove them, lift them
gently with a dip-net.
In an aquarium with a slanting bottom, only the
front need be of glass; the other three sides can





-- C- ,

-- 1

.. .: -_


--I _

---- "-- -

, .------~
. 71

---_ ---


be made of slate, which is also a good material
for the false bottom. In ponds, rivers, and lakes,
the only light received comes from above; so we
can understand that a vessel admitting light
upon all sides, as well as from the top, forms
an unnaturally luminous abode for
fish. The glass front is sufficient for
the spectator to see through.
The author has a tank twenty-five
inches long, eleven inches wide, and
-- twelve inches high-far too narrow
S and deep; but these defects have
S been, in a measure, overcome by
.'. filling it only two-thirds full of water,
and allowing the green vegetation to
S grow undisturbed upon three sides
-- of the aquarium; the remaining
side is kept clean by rubbing off
all vegetable matter, once a week,
with a long-handled bottle-washer.

S ,".g, or a piece of sponge, tied upon the end of a
-; :,-k;, will answer the same purpose. This tank has
S..... in a flourishing condition for three years, and the
S,-r has been changed only once, and then all the
..-r was removed, so that some alteration could be
made in the rockery.
But one of the inmates has died since last summer,
and that was a bachelor stickleback, who probably
received a nip from the pincers of one of the craw-fish.
Two of these creatures have their den in the rockery
that occupies the center of the tank. A German carp,
from the Washington breeding-ponds, browses all day
long upon the mossy surface of the rocks, or roots
around the bottom, taking great mouthfuls of sand and
then puffing it out again like smoke. A striped dace
spends most of his time lying flat upon his stomach on
the bottom, or roosting like some subaqueous bird upon
branches of the aquatic plants or on a submerged rock.
A big and a little "killie" dart around after the boat-
bugs, which they seldom catch, and if they do, they
drop them again in great trepidation. A diminutive
pond-bass asserts his authority over the larger fish in
a most tyrannous manner. An eel lives under the
sand in the bottom, and deigns to make his appearance







,_.__ I_
r .-_'_--- L--~ t -. .. -= = Q
.... ...-v-J7- -2 _



_ i




only once in several months, much to the amaze-
ment of the other inhabitants, all of whom seem to
forget his presence until the smell of a bit of meat
brings his long body from his retreat. Numerous
little mussels creep along the bottom ; periwinldes
and snails crawl up and down the sides; caddice-
worms cling to the plants, and everything appears

--- -

at home -- '
and con- F
And why? ?_
Because their
home is arranged
as nearly as pos-
sible like their '-
natural haunts, N
where they were capt-
ured. Learn the hab-
its of any creature,
and give it a chance
to follow them, and you will
find it comparatively easy to
keep it healthy in captivity. ---
Feed your fish on insects once
or. twice a week. Do not try to
force them to eat; if they are -
hungry, they need little persua-
sion. Boat-bugs, whirligig-beetles, and,
in fact, almost all the aquatic bugs and
beetles, will eat lean, raw meat, if given
to them in small bits, Remember that
aquatic animals, like all other creatures,
are very variable in their appetites; some
are gluttons, some eat sparingly, some prefer
animal food, while others live entirely upon
vegetable matter. Carp, dace, and such fish
will eat bread; bass, pickerel, and gars will not.
Never allow any food to remain in the bot-
tom of the aquarium to spoil, for it will contam-
inate the water. The vegetarians in your tank
will feed upon the plants growing therein, and
they will all eat bread. Most fish will like the
prepared food which you can obtain at any
SThe group of fish swimming across page 696

comprises some of the hardiest and most readily
domesticated to be found in small lakes or ponds.
In selecting fish for your aquarium, be careful to
have the perch, sun-fish, and bass much smaller
than the dace, carp, or gold-fish; otherwise the
last-named fish will soon find a resting-place inside
the former.

Never put a large frog in an aquarium, for he
will devour everything there. A bull-frog that I
kept in my studio for more than a year swallowed
fish, live mice, and brown bats; he also swallowed
a frog of nearly his own size; but when he in-
gulfed a young alligator, we were almost as amazed
as if he had swallowed himself.
Craw-fish are very mischievous; they pull up the
plants, upset the rockery, nip the ends off the fishes'
tails, crack the mussel-shells, pull out the inmates
and devour them, squeeze the caddice-worm from
his little log-house, and, in fact, are incorrigible
mischief-makers. But, from that very fact, I
always keep one or two small ones. The other
inhabitants of the aquarium soon learn to dread
the pincer of these fresh-water lobsters, and keep
out of the way. Tadpoles are always an interesting
addition to an aquarium.
Pickerel and gars should be kept in an aqua-
rium by themselves.
Pond-bass make very intelligent pets. I once
had three hundred of these little fellows,
perfectly tame. Down in one corner of
the corn-field I found two patent washing-
e machines, the beds of which were
shaped like scow-boats. These old
machines were fast going to
ruin, and I readily gained per-
mission to use them for
whatever purpose I wish-
S ed; so, with a hatchet, I
knocked off the
legs and top-
gear;, then re-
--- moved a side
-. from each box,
and fastened the
t-wo together,
S making a tank
about four feet






square. The seam, or crack, where the two
parts joined, was filled with oakum, and the
whole outside was thickly daubed with coal-tar.
The tank was then set in a hole dug for that pur-
pose, and the dirt was filled in and packed around

the sides. Back of it I piled rocks, and planted
ferns in all the cracks and crannies. I also put
rocks in the center of the tank, first covering the
bottom with sand and gravel. After filling this
with water and plants, I put in three hundred little




bass, and they soon became so tame that they
would follow my finger all around, or would jump
out of the water for a bit of meat held between
the fingers. Almost any wild creatures will yield
to persistent kind treatment, and become tame.
Generally, too, they learn to have a sort of trustful
affection for their keepers, who, however, to earn
the confidence of such friends, should be almost
as wise, punctual, and unfailing as good Dame
Nature herself.
One of the same bass, which I gave to a friend of
mine, lived in an ordinary glass globe for three
years. It was a very intelligent fish, but fear-
fully spiteful and jealous. My friend's mother
thought it was lonesome, and so, one day, she
brought home a beautiful gold-fish-a little larger
than the bass-to keep it company. She put the
gold-fish in the globe, and watched the little bass,
expecting to see it wonderfully pleased; but the
little wretch worked himself into a terrible pas-
sion-erected every spine upon his back, glared a
moment at the intruder, and .then made a dart
forward, seized the gold-fish by the abdomen, and
shook it as a terrier dog shakes a rat, until the

transparent water was glittering all over with a
shower of golden scales. As soon as possible, the
carp was rescued; but it was too late. He only
gasped, and died. The vicious little bass swam
around and around his globe, biting in his rage at
all the floating scales. Ever after, he was allowed
to live a hermit's life, and he behaved himself well.
At last the family went away for a couple of weeks,
and, when they returned,, the poor little bass lay
dead at the bottom of his globe.
One more incident, and I must close: A certain
young enthusiast in aquarium matters, waking
suddenly one night, beheld the apparition shown
on page 697. At one side of the room, in a
wavering circle of light, a gaping monster was
about to make one mouthful of a wriggling creat-
ure as large as a cat. The cause of this strange
vision soon appeared. The curtain of the window
had not been drawn down all the way, and a street-
lamp, shining in, made a sort of combined magic-
lantern lens and slide of a glass globe, in which
some aquarium pets were quarreling. But the
wrigglerr" escaped somehow, and no harm was





PAR F. M. E.

WE shall be glad to receive translations of this from the girls and boys. The translators should give their full
names, addresses, and ages, at the head of their papers, and should write on but one side of the sheet. That trans-
lation which seems to us to be the best will be printed in the October number. Translations received at 743
Broadway, New York, after August Ist will be too late to take part in the competition.

MES chers petits amis, savez-vous ce que c'est
que ce jeune homme si dr6lement pare ? Il est
marchand de coco, cette boisson d6licieuse faite du
bois de r6glisse broyi dans de l'eau glac6. A
Paris on les voit partout, ces marchands, avec le
beau bouquet argent de leur fontaines, scintillant
comme une oriflamme au-dessus de la tite. Ils se

prominent aux Champs Elysees, au Jardin
des Tuileries, dans les rues, partout oh se
peuvent trouver des enfants, ou mime des
personnel plus ages, car la soif vient a tout
le monde; et quand il fait bien chaud, ils
font de fameuses recettes. On les entend
crier de leur voix p6entrante : A la fraiche,
qui veut boire! Voilh le bon coco! R6galez-
vous, Mesdames-r6galez-vous! Et apris ces
assourdissants appeals aux chalands, ils tintent
la clochette argent6e qu'ils portent dans la
main gauche. Cette sonnerie fait la fort-
une du d6bitant de coco; elle fait tant de
bruit qu'il faut bien lui faire attention, ce qui
est toujours bonne chose dans le commerce.
Et puis la fontaine est si belle, qui pourrait
y resister? L'effet du velours cramoisi qui
entoure les cylindres, est rehauss6 par les
bords cuivres et par le bouquet luisant dans
le soleil. Ce qui fait un ensemble visible de
loin par les alt6r.s. Et puis, cela ne cofte
qu'un sou le verre!
Sur la poitrine, une des bretelles qui at-
tachent la fontaine au dos du marchand, est
perc6e a jour pour recevoir les gobelets dans
lesquels il sert sa merchandise. Tout brille
dans 1'6quipage, les gobelets sont argents
aussi bien que la clochette et le bouquet et
les deux robinets qui passent dessous le bras
gauche, l'un desquels donne du coco, et
l'autre de l'eau pour rincer les gobelets.
Il se sert d'un coin de son tablier de toile,
eblouissant de blancheur et de propretd, pour
essuyer ses verres. Et pourtant ce tablier
n'est jamais sale, on y voit toujours les plis

faits par le fer de la blanchisseuse. Notre
marchand de coco dans la gravure est
chauss6 de gros sabots de paysan, mais
cette parties du costume n'est pas de rigeur
comme tout le reste.
Autrefois un beau casque empanach6 coiffait le
porte-fontaine, mais aujourd'hui la simple casquette
d'ouvrier le replace.
Qui ne voudrait pas 6tre marchand de coco?
Quel beau metier Se promener toujours au soleil,
et crier aux oreilles des petits enfants alt6res: "A
la fraiche, qui veut boire "

/ ,,.




x85'.) SALTILLO BOYS. 705



./'!' --




THE Ramblers' Club was not a difficult body to
form. All that was needed, as far as that Saturday
was concerned, was for Otis Burr, Jeff Carroll, and
Charley Ferris to come around to Will Torrance's
as soon as possible after breakfast. Jack Roberts
would also have been there but for a message Belle
brought him from Milly Merriweather and Mr.
Ayring. They wanted to consult with him about
such May-festival appointments as were to be
divided among the Park boys.
As for inviting anybody else on that first trip,
VOL. VIII.-45.

Otis Burr had vetoed it with: "No, Will, four of
us 'll be enough if we 're going to have a good
time, and it wont do to have more if we 're not."
There was sense in that, especially, as they had
only one dog and- one gun among them, both
belonging to Will.
Will Torrance's Tiger" was a cross between a
setter and a Newfoundland, and combined the
brains of one with the size and shaggy coat of the
other. He was bounding ahead of the boys now,
in search of fun, and not only chickens but much
larger animals, ill-disposed men included, were
quite likely to treat him with civility.
The "ramble" of that day was to be made
along the western shore of Oneoga Lake.






This was a pretty piece of fresh water, one end of
which came down to the northern side of Saltillo.
It was about six miles long and not more than two
miles wide at the widest place, and the eastern
shore was all villages and farms.
The western side was wilder, being about equally
divided between swamps and woodland, and the
lake itself had been long ago "fished out."
"Four boys and only one gun," remarked a
farmer, from his seat in his wagon, as they passed
him in the road, just before they climbed the last
fence and struck off into the sandy flats along the
lake shore.
"Will," exclaimed Charley, "we must kill
"There's a chipping-bird," said Otis Burr.
"You can make up a string of them."
Hold on, boys "
Will suddenly darted ahead, for Tiger was stand-
ing still near the bank of a very small brook and
seemed to be looking at something.
"He 's pointing," said Jeff; "he 's doing his
best for his size."
The boys did not exactly hold their breaths, but
nothing louder than a whisper came from them as
they saw their sportsman slip along the bank of
the brook and raise his gun to his shoulder.
It was a single-barreled gun, but it went off with
a very encouraging report.
Loud enough to scare any small bird to death,"
said Otis.
Did you get him ? Did you get him ?" shouted
Charley, as Will sprang forward.
"What was it?" asked Jeff. "I did n't see any
They were smaller birds than geese, and it was
no wonder Tiger had been the only member of the
Club to detect their presence in the neighborhood.
All the rest saw some kind of winged creatures fly
away; but Will was picking up something.
Six of em," he shouted, at one shot! "
"What are they?"
"What are they, Charley? Don't you know
sandpipers when you see them? They're the
smallest kind of snipe."
"Give mre one to carry," said Jeff,-" one in
each hand, to balance me. Are n't they a heavy
They were bigger than chipping-birds, but there
was little more to be said about them, excepting that
they were long-billed, long-legged, and "snipey"
in their aspect, and could really be cooked and
"Two or three hundred of 'em would make a
prime dinner for the Club," remarked Otis.
"We '11 get some more as we go along the flats.
We can take turns shooting. I '11load up."

That was quickly done, and Charley Ferris came
in for the next turn, almost as a matter of course.
It was better fun now, with a beginning made,
and a possibility of something more; and the Club
marched on, with Charley about a rod in advance.
"Tip-up! tip-up exclaimed Will, before three
minutes were over. "Tige is away. He never
lets 'em 'light. There, Charley, one has lit. See
it tip-up ?"
Another kind of snipe-but, as Jeff observed,
"not large enough to hurt him "-had alighted on
an old log in the brook, and was "practicing his
motions" in his own way,-that is, his head and
tail rose and fell in quick alternation, as if he
were trying to keep his balance on the log, and
had a good deal of "tetering" to do to avoid fall-
ing off.
It was a short shot, but Charley was excited.
He was sure he was aiming at that bird up to the
moment when he pulled the trigger. The gun
went off just as it should have done, and the report
spoke well for the size of the charge; but the
saucy "tip-up" only gave another "teter," and
then flew swiftly away toward the lake.
Missed him! "
"No, I did n't. I must have hit him; he flies
as if he had been wounded. Tige is after him."
Tiger was running in that direction, certainly;
but the bird was already out of sight ahead of him,
and the wise dog gave it up and began to smell at
some tracks on the sand.
"Your turn next, Jeff," said Will. "I 've
brought plenty of ammunition."
"My turn, is it? Well, then, you wait till 1
stick up a mark,-something that wont fly away
after I 've hit it."
By the time the gun was loaded, Jeff had pinned
an old letter envelope to the bark of a tree not far
away, and his "game," as he called it, was all
ready for him. There was no danger of his
getting excited about it, and he tried in vain to
coax Tiger into making a "point" at the tree.
Bang! And then four boys ran forward to see
if any of the shot had hit the paper.
Six, -seven,-eight said Charley. Jeff, if
that had been a 'tip-up,' it would have been spoiled.
I fired just a little above mine. It tears a bird all
to pieces to put too many shot into it."
It was Otis Burr's turn to shoot, but Will
reminded them that standing still and shooting at
a mark was not exactly "rambling."
"Let's ramble, then," said Otis. "Put in your
biggest shot for me; I 'm after something larger
than 'tip-ups' and sandpipers."
That end of the lake was as level as a floor, not
only on land, but under water. The "sand-flat"
reached nearly to the edge of the city itself, but





there were no houses on it,-nothing but long
ranges of low, flat-looking, wooden-roofed sheds.
The water at the margin was as shallow as it well
could be, and any one of the boys could have
waded out a quarter of a mile without getting
beyond his depth. They knew this well enough,
but it was too cold for wading yet, and no one pro-
posed a trial. As for the sheds, they knew all
about them, and there was no "ramble" to be
had there. They were "solar salt-works,"-great
wooden pans set up just above the ground,-and
the shed-roofs were their sliding covers, which
would not be removed till steady, warm weather
should come. Acres on acres of sand-flats were
covered in that way.
The boys walked along as they talked, and soon
began to pass the curve toward the western shore.
They could look back now and see the city, and
the tall chimneys of the "boiling-works," where
salt was made in a quicker way than by drying it
out by sunshine in vats.
Each one of those tall chimneys stood up at the
end of a big wooden building, and that, they
knew, covered a long, double row of huge iron
kettles, set in a range of brick-work, with a fire
constantly burning under them; and there were
men busy there now scooping out the salt from the
boiling-kettles with long-handled iron ladles.
It was agreeable enough to look at and think of,
but the kind of rambling they were doing was
more like Saturday work," as Jeff called it.
"Right out there, boys," said Will,-" half a
mile out,-there 's a salt-spring comes up, from
the bottom of the lake. There 's a bigger one on
the east side, and they 've rigged a pump to it."
"I don't believe there 's any salt-spring," said
Jeff. "The lake would be salt, if it were fed in
that way."
"Look at the salt on the sand, then. There 's
salt coming out of everything around here. It
makes the sand-fere grow."
"William!" exclaimed Charley, with great dig-
nity, "you astonish me. As Mr. Hayne would
say, 'What, a scholar of this school saying sand-
fere'? No, young gentlemen, the proper word to
employ is samphiree.' "
You may call it as many names as you please,
but it's a good weed for pickles. Hello, Ote, it's
your turn. Do you see, out there ?"
"On the water? I see "
"Ducks, my boy-ducks "
Two black spots bobbed up and down, at quite a
distance from shore, and four pairs of eyes agreed
in an instant as to what they were.
The shore ahead of them was dreadfully muddy,
and the water at the edge somewhat deeper than
at the southern end of the lake. A little way back,

too, were scattered a dozen or so of the rude cabins
of the salt-boilers, and around these were to be
seen a mixed population of ragged and happy
children, pigs,.poultry, cats, dogs, and even a cow
or two.
Tiger was keeping an eye out for those dogs,
several of whom had already sent a warning bark
to notify him that he was a stranger, and they were
ready for him.
"Keep right along, boys. They're swimming
toward the shore. They '11 come in farther up.
Never mind the mud."
Will was speaking of the ducks, and the rest
of the Club imitated his example in tucking their
trousers into their.boots. Low shoes would have
had a hard time of it in the rambling they did for
the next five minutes.
Either those ducks were blind or they were so
used to seeing the salt-boilers' boys along the shore
that they had lost all fear of human beings.
If they could but have known that those four
now present were a Club, with a gun, and that it
was Otis Burr's turn to shoot!
There was no one to warn them, however, and
in they came, over the bright little waves, taking
their own time to it, and giving Otis, therefore,
time to get himself into such a fever of expectation
that he thought he had never in his life seen so
large a pair of water-fowl or such slow swimmers.
Bang!-at last.
Tiger gave his master a look that seemed to
ask some kind of question, but he at once bounded
forward and into the water.
He brought them in, one at a time-the first
one dead and the second so badly hurt that it
could not get away from him.
"Got 'em both," said Otis, trying hard to look
unconcerned, as if he killed ducks every day.
Splendid pair !" said Charley, but Will Tor-
rance was looking closely and silently at the one
he held in his hand.
"We 've done 'it, boys. We 've done it.
They're tame ducks! "
"Will! You don't say so!"
"Don't I? And here comes the fine old lady
they belong to."
She was coming, sure enough.
"Don't run, boys," said Charley. "We must
stand by Ote."
Running was out of the question, in that mud,
but Charley's heroism was the correct thing, for all
"Murtherin' me ducks? Is it that, ye spal-
peens ?"
Besides this they gathered little of the torrent
of angry brogue that the elderly Irish settler
poured upon them as she came up; but by the





time she was out of breath, Otis Burr was as calm
as a fence-post.
"I 've killed them for you, nicely, ma'am.
Teach 'em not to run away again."
"Is it run away? Av ye don't pay me for
thim, then now!"
"Pay? Well, I don't care if I do. May be
they are worth something. Ten cents --"
"Tin cints? Is it tin cints ye're talking' of?
Av ye don't pay me a quarter dollar for aich on
'em, I '11 have the law on ye."
"Half a dollar for a pair of ducks like these?
And carry 'em home myself?"



JACK ROBERTS had been deprived of his in-
tended day out with the Ramblers' Club, but he
found compensation. He and Belle met Mr.
Ayring and Milly Merriweather at the music store,
and it soon became plain that the newly elected
"Oueen" was not disposed to be despotic.
She insisted on making Jim Swayne "First
Herald," so he would be the first boy to come upon
the stage, and that suited Mr. Ayring.

-~- --t ^ :-^--i=:-3
S- -- --- ----
-'----- --
... =_-- --^^ Jt

--.?__ --- --i -~-_ -: =_- i-- _---



"It takes Otis Burr!" Charley was whispering
to Will. "She 'd have scared me out of a dollar."
It was about a fair price, as ducks were going,
and Otis soon consented, as the old lady said, "to
hear reason." He paid for his game like a man,
and picked them up.
Carry one of 'em, Charley. I move we ramble.
There 's a crowd coming."
A glance confirmed him.
Every shanty in sight seemed to be sending out
somebody, and it was plainly time to move on.

"You ought to put on Jeff Carroll next," sug-
gested Jack, with a grin.
For some reason or other, Mr. Ayring preferred
Will Torrance, and Belle herself said:
"Neither of them would care much for it.
Jeff would n't, I know, and Will may think he's
too big."
"They'll have to do it," said Jack, "whether
they like it or not."
It was all settled nicely, in a half-hour's council,
and when Milly went home, Jack walked off with




her; for, as he said, "I 'm to be one of your
marshals and I must begin to practice."
Belle had an errand at the book-store, but she
might not have gone in, perhaps, if she had known
whom she was to meet standing by one of the
counters. There was no help for it, and, after all,
she and Fanny Swayne were good friends, and had
known and played with each other from the time
they were both very little girls. They were young
ladies" now, and the gray-haired book-seller, who
saw them shaking hands, thought he had never
seen two prettier or more intelligent faces together.
"Hard to say which is the prettier," he said to
himself: "splendid girls, both of them."
And Fanny took care to be the first to mention the
May festival, very much to Belle's relief, and to say:
"I am glad they made so good a selection.
Milly is a sweet little girl,-just the right age."
Belle assented, and everything would have gone
along nicely if it had not been for the arrival of
more company.
Jim Swayne came in after his sister, and nobody
knew what Pug Merriweather came for. His
errand took him to the back end of the store, and
he was on his way out when his keen little eyes
began to study that group by the counter.
"Jack and Milly went home, Miss Roberts."
"Did they? And are you not going too?"
"Guess I am; pretty soon."
"Are you Milly Merriweather's brother? Do
you know me ?" asked Fanny.
"You're Jim Swayne's sister, are n't you ? You
're not the queen, though."
'No," said Fanny, with a laugh; 'your sister is
queen. Will you tell her I 'm glad of it?"
"Yes, I '11 tell her. So is everybody else but
her. She says you 'd have made a better queen;
but you would n't. She voted for you; so I had
to vote twice. Milly is n't real sharp."
"Well, but she 's only a girl "
That is n't it. Some girls are as sharp as boys;
some boys are n't sharp, either. Jeff Carroll says
Jim '11 be sharp enough to paint his tickets next
time. Jeff's sharp."
You 'd better run home, Pug," snapped Jim,
or there '11 be somebody after you, first thing you
Pug knew enough of Jim to take warning; but
he had a question to ask before he went.
"Miss Roberts, what 's a page? "
"Something to read, do you mean ? "
"Is that it? Then I wont, that's all. Milly
said I might be one of her pages, but if I 've got
to stand up and read anything "
"Oh, they wont make you do that," laughed
Fanny; "run right along now, and don't forget to
tell your sister just what I told you."

He was out of the door, as Jim said:
"Like one of these little black-and-tan terrier
dogs that can't stand still half a minute."
Pug had not done any harm by what he had
said, however, and that was something, considering
what a reckless tongue he had. There came still
another chance to use it, later in the day, when he
met the Ramblers' Club on their way home.
They had made good speed away from the neigh-
borhood of the shanties, even Tiger setting them
an example of rapid motion; and they had waded,
and walked, and floundered for two or three hours
along the lake-shore; at last, however, they had,
as Jeff said, "given up finding a north-west pas-
sage around the lake," and had even caught a ride
on a wagon, after they came out into a road and
started for home.
The gun had been fired again and again, before
that, and the Club had unanimously voted to keep
all they killed.
The mud '11 stick to us," said Otis Burr, "and
we might as well stick to our game."
It was that which called for remarks from Pug,
as he trotted around them, staring at one "string"
after another.
"Ote has a duck, so has Charley, and they
must have stolen 'em. Jeff Carroll has three
blackbirds. I know what Will Torrance is lugging.
It's sandpipers and two tip-ups. Jeff's got,-
well, I say, if it is n't a rat "
The latter animal had been shot on their way
home, and Jeff declared it a rabbit, and that
he would carry it in. There were more black-
birds, and the only reason why there were no
crows was, because they had fired at five in suc-
cession without killing one.
On the whole, it had been a grand day's fun, up
to the moment when the Club reached the lower
end of the Park, and a mob of Pug's small-boy
friends came along from one direction, just as Mr.
Hayne appeared on the other side.
"IBoys! boys!" screamed Pug. "Look here!
They 've been a-huntin'! Stealin' ducks and rat-
killin'. Look at what they 've got. Birds, too!"
Mr. Hayne smiled, and the hearts of the Club
sank as the smile on his face grew wide.
It was evident that he was trying to keep it
down, or at least not to hurt their feelings, but
smile he did, for he could not help it.
They were a muddy Club, and their faces were
well marked with gunpowder. Their very dog was
wet, and had a tired, slouchy look.
"I hope you have had a pleasant time, young
gentlemen. Have you been hunting ?"
"Oh, no, by no means," said Jeff. "We've
been rambling."




"Yes, sir. This is a part of the Ramblers' Club.
We 've been shooting at a mark, a little."
"And brought your targets home with you,
I see. What is that you have, Mr. Burr?"
"Ignorant people call it a duck, Mr. Hayne.
They were common, once, but they 're rare, now.
I killed this one on Oneoga Lake."
"Ah! Yes. Very rare bird, excepting in barn-
yards. I hope the owner was paid for it."
"It's an Irish duck," interrupted Jeff. "Ote
wanted a specimen to study."
I see. And you mean to give your spare
time to the study of rats and blackbirds ?"
"Is that really.a rat, Mr. Hayne? I suspected
the blackbirds."
That half of the Club was, by all odds, better off
than the other half in the kind of ability called
for just then, and Charley and Will would have
given something to let their friends do the talking,
but Pug appeared between them with a hand on
each of their strings of "game."
Oh, Mr. Hayne, look at these, too. Sand-
pipers Another duck and lots of things."

The second duck and the diminutive snipe were
too much for Mr. Hayne. He laughed long and
merrily. "Go ahead, young gentlemen. It's
good fun, I dare say. Don't fail to let me know
what you bring home, next time."
The next time, Mr. Hayne ?" said Jeff Carroll,
gravely. "Every man is to take a gun."
"May I suggest an idea?" said the master.
"Do, please, Mr. Hayne," stammered Will, who
now began to have fears for the future of his Club.
"Well, then, take hammers instead of guns,
some day, and bring home a small piece of every
rock you find, but no one of you to bring two
pieces of the same kind." He bowed and smiled,
and walked on, as he concluded; but the Club
stood looking at one another for a moment.
"Let 's try it," exclaimed Otis Burr.
"Next Saturday, Will. I 'm ready," said
Charley. "There 's no end of rocks off south."
"Boys," remarked Jeff, "I can't talk till I 've
washed my face and had something to eat."
These being the urgent needs, the Club broke
up and went home in peace.

(To be continued.)







MIss MOLLY MOGG and Miss Lucy Lee
Were playing under the apple-tree,
Just as happy as happy could be;
When-all at once-
That little dunce,
Miss Lucy, began to scream and cry:
"Oh, Molly Mogg, make haste and fly!
Here 's a horrible thing,
With a rightful sting,
Coming to catch us! Oh, dear! Oh, my!"

She dropped her book,
And her dolly, too,
Screaming: "Look! Molly, look!
He 's close to you!
These dreadful things,
With wings-and stings-
I never could bear! Oh, kill him! Do!"

Said Molly Mogg, sternly: "Lucy Lee,
What a silly, absurd, little goose you must be!
It's plain to me
You don't know your Natural History;
If you did, you could see
That this is a beautiful, beautiful creature,
Of grace unrivaled in form and feature.

Just pause, Lucy, pause:
See his wings of fine gauze,
And his wonderful,-yes, my dear,-wonderful,
claws !
Would you like me to tell
His name, Lucy? Well,
It is 'Mega-thum-ollopod-tenter-hook-daws'!"

But poor Lucy Lee
Would n't listen-not she-
To a bit of this Natural History.
Away she ran crying,
Her road never eying,
While over her head the great insect was
So she ran till she came to the well,
When straightway into the bucket she fell!
In a half-hour after, with call and shout,
The farmer's family pulled her out;
While the "Mega-thum-ollopod" flew about,
And thought it was all very queer, no doubt.

Miss Molly Mogg, so wise and clever,
Said: "Such a goose I never saw,-never!
To think that she ran, without any cause,
From a 'Megathumollopodtenterhookdaws '!"








CHAPTER IX. poor animals, we were glad to take refuge in a
cabana, or military guard-house, on the ridge of
Two weeks after our departure from the Indian the Sierra de San Bias. The Indians of the upper
Mission, we reached the foot-hills of the Andes in a Orinoco are almost as savage as our Camanches
drenching rain-storm. It was the first bad weather and Apaches, and the white people have to guard

we had experienced since our landing at Acapulco:
the last ten days it had rained incessantly from
every noon till night; at first it was merely a sort
of drizzling fog, but when we reached the hills the
water fell in torrents, and after a stormy night,
without a camp-fire and without shelter for our

their settlements by a chain of military posts,
generally located on the ridge of some mountain-
range that affords a good lookout over the surround-
ing hills and valleys. But the republic of New
Granada is a very poor country, and can not afford
to maintain regular forts, with officers, garrisons,




and cannons, and most of their cabafas are in
charge each of a single soldier-a mere picket-
sentry, who has' to be well acquainted with the
habits and haunts of the Indians, and at the first
sign of danger gallops to the next settlement to
give the alarm. The solitary guardsman then on
the mountain of San Blas was so glad to have a
little company that he did his utmost to make us
comfortable, but his cabala was a poor sample of
a fortress, log-built, without glass windows and with
a rather defective roof, and if the weather had not
been so stormy we should have preferred to camp
under a good tree.
Still, we did not regret the delay, for on the
second evening there arrived at San Bias agguarda-
mayor from Bogota, a military officer whose busi-
ness it was to inspect the cabafias and see to it that
the sentries were at their posts. San Bias being a
frontier fort, Captain Matias, as the sentry called
him, intended to return the next morning, and as
the storm had at last abated, we were very glad to
accompany him. Like many of his countrymen, the
Captain treated Indians as things devoid of soul
and sense, but in his intercourse with white people
he was as courteous as a Spanish cavalier, and we
found him a very agreeable traveling-companion-
jolly, adventurous, well acquainted with the history
and the Indian antiquities of the country, and full
of entertaining stories.
The grassy table-lands of New Granada swarm
with coyotes, or prairie-wolves, and whenever we
met one of these creatures the Captain put spurs to
his horse and chased the wolf till he ran it down,
but generally let it off if it lay down and sur-
rendered at discretion. On one of these chases he
came across the nest of a crested turkey with fifteen
or twenty young ones, and, reining up his horse,
he called to us and helped us to hunt the little
long-legs that darted through the grass in every
direction. The boys never had such fun, although
we caught only six of the chicks, the rest managing
to escape into the thick juniper-bushes of the
That afternoon and all the next day, our trail led
through the highlands of the Sierra Cauca, steeper
and steeper uphill, until we came to a ridge that
seemed to form the summit of all the surrounding
mountains; but when we got up, we saw that the
worst was to come yet. On the other side of the
table-land, and high above us, rose the main chain
of the Western Andes, with their glittering peaks
and awful precipices-lofty, threatening battlements
that seemed to defend the approach to the cloud-
land of the central plateau.
"No, it is n't as bad as it looks," laughed the
Captain, when he noticed our consternation. Our
road keeps along the northern slope, and you will

now find a good bridge over every ravine; this is
the camino real, the old highway of the Incas."*
"Why, you are right," said I, when we passed a
rock that rose in a series of regular terraces and
parapets. This looks like an artificial esplanade;
there must have been a castle up there."
No, it's an Indian cemetery," said the Captain
-"the catacombs of Las Pefias, as they call it.
Come this way-we can take a look at it before we
go into camp; it is a curious old wizard's den."
We followed him over heaps of rubbish and
broken columns to the upper platform, where a nar-
row portal opened into the interior of a dark rock-
"We should have taken our lantern along," said
I; "I am afraid we shall not see much of all those
The Captain chuckled. "You will hear so
much the more," said he; "just come along." At
the entrance of the cave the ground was covered
with all kinds of debris and potsherds, but farther
back stood a vast number of massive earthen urns,
as thick and wide as the kettles our asphalt-pavers
use to boil their pitch in. The urns stood close
together by scores and hundreds, although here
and there narrow interspaces formed winding paths,
that seemed to lead far back into a continuous
labyrinth of pottery and rocks. If these vessels
had really been filled with human bones, the cave
must have been the cemetery of a populous city,
for all the urns farther back were filled with some-
thing that felt like a mixture of ashes and bits of a
harder stuff-perhaps fragments of the trinkets the
Indians used to bury with their dead.
Following one of the winding paths, we came to
a side-vault of the cave, where the Captain sud-
denly stopped, and, putting his hands to his
mouth, gave a whoop that made the whole vault
ring. Tommy clutched me with both arms, for, in
the same instant, almost, the cave became a pande-
monium of unearthly sounds,-shrieks, hoots, and
croaking yells,-and from the recesses of the den
came cries so nearly resembling the groans of a
human being that our two Indians made a simul-
taneous rush for the door. The uproar drowned
my exclamations, and I could not understand the
Captain's reply, although I heard enough to suspect
that he was almost choked with laughing.
"What, in the name of sense, was all that? I
asked, when we finally emerged from the den.
"Don't you see them?" laughed the Captain,
pointing to the entrance, where a number of long-
winged birds were now fluttering to and fro,-
"caprimulgas, -goat-suckers, -about forty or
fifty thousand of them. They have their roosts
in that cave, and if you wake one, you wake them
all. They can out-scream a wild-cat."

* Incas,-rulers of the country before its conquest by the Spaniards.




"Hallo, where is the dog?" asked Tommy,
when we unhitched our mule.
"I saw him charging around in the rocks when
we came out of that witch-hole," said Menito;
"he was running down-hill the last I saw of him."
I think he is after the 'sexton,'" said the Cap-
tain. There is a panther who has long made his
head-quarters somewhere near here. I have seen
him three or four times. My soldiers used to call
him the 'Indian Sexton.' "
We had pitched our tent on the shore of a little
'mountain-lake when Rough at last returned, as
full of burs and stickers as if he had ranged the
jungles of twenty sierras. We thought he had
had his fill of hunting for that day; but, half an
hour after, we heard him again barking and
scratching in a copse of mesquite-trees behind our
tent, and we found that he was routing out a nest
of armadillos,-those strange creatures that look
like a cross between a fox and a lizard, being
mammals in their habits and the construction of
their internal organs, but with the scales and the
tail of a reptile. We caught three of them-two
for our collection and one for Rough's supper.
It was a beautiful night-not a cloud in the sky;
and the lake so clear that it reflected every bright
star in the firmament. When the moon rose over
the heights of the Sierra de Cauca, it painted the
water with silver streaks and spangles, and revealed
the fantastic outlines of the lime-stone cliffs along
the shore.
"Do you see those tall rocks over yonder?"
said the Captain. "They call this tarn the
Laguna de Tres Hermanas [the "Lake of the
Three Sisters"], and those rocks are supposed to
be three enchanted virgins."
"They are? Oh, please tell us all about it! "
cried Tommy.
"All right; only there is n't much to tell," said
the Captain. It is nothing but a strange old
Indian tradition. About three hundred years ago,
when the Spaniards first conquered this country,
there lived up here a stadtholder of the Incas-
an old chieftain, as poor as the barren heights of
his sierra, but his three daughters were the hand-
somest girls in the land, and one of them was a
Priestess of the Moon. But, after the downfall of
the empire, Pizarro's troopers invaded this valley;
the old chieftain was slain in the pass of Las
Salsas, and, when the news of the disaster reached
his house, the three sisters fled toward the lake,
with a troop of soldiers in hot pursuit. At the
head of this bay the girls hoped to find a canoe,
and escape in the twilight to the opposite shore;
but when they reached the landing the boat was
gone, and, in their great distress, they prayed to
the Moon to receive their souls and transform their

bodies. The moon was concealed by a veil of
clouds, and the three girls gave themselves up for
lost; but just before the troopers reached the lake,
the clouds parted, and where a minute ago the
three sisters had stood with uplifted arms, the
soldiers found three rocks of white limestone,-
Las Tres Hermanas, as they are called to this day.
The Moon had answered their prayer."
The day before we left the cabania, Tommy had

,.* ,:--r

. .,- ...- -- ,.. ,, l .-


sprained his ankle, and, his foot being still a little
stiff, I had permitted him to ride; but the next
morning he dismounted of his own accord, and
preferred to limp along as well as he could.
"I wont trust my life to a mule," said he; "if
I am going to break my neck, I want to know the
reason why."
To slip from the highway of the Incas would,
indeed, have been a matter of life and death. The
precipices at our feet descended like tower-walls,
and we passed places where a stone, dropped from
my outstretched hand, would have fallen a couple
of thousand feet without ever touching as much as
a projecting cliff. Farther up, though, the valley
became narrower, and at last shrank to a mere
gulch, hardly thirty feet across, but still of frightful




depth. On our other hand rose a steep mountain-
wall, and often we had to pick our way between
the broken bowlders that had fallen from the cliffs
above. But these wild rocks were not quite unin-
habited. Small mountain-weasels gamboled in the
clefts, and a little way ahead a bush-wolf was sit-
ting at the edge of the cation, and allowed us to
approach within a hundred yards before he loped
lazily away.
Hallo, Captain there is one of your friends,"
laughed Tommy; he does not seem to be in any
hurry. I suppose he knows that you cannot course
him on a road like this."
"Listen! I hear a friar's bell," said Menito;
"there is a priest coming down this way. Now
that wolf is in a bad fix, after all; we shall get him
somehow or other."
"Yes, he had better confess his sins to that
friar," laughed the Captain. "His time is up,
unless he can clamber up that rock-wall."
When the friar came in sight, the wolf seemed
to realize its dilemma. It stopped, and, after an
uneasy glance at the steep mountain above it,
turned its head toward the cation, and, crouching
down till its breast almost touched the ground, it
made a sudden leap at the opposite bank. It
came nearer succeeding than we had thought pos-
sible, and, if the slope of the chasm had been a
little less steep, the poor creature might have saved
itself, after all. As it was, the loose sand gave
way under its feet, and down it went, head over
heels, into an apparently bottomless abyss. A
second after, our dog reached the place from
which the poor wolf had taken its fatal leap.
Instead of barking, Rough looked silently at the
cation, and then averted his head with a sort of
That cation must be nearly a mile deep," said
Tommy. "I am almost sorry for the coyote."
"Not I," said Daddy Simon; "he had no busi-
ness to be so foolish as all that-to be afraid of a
friar! The idea!-and a Franciscan friar at that!
They don't carry as much as a knife "
Our two monkeys, Billy and the Tamarin, were
also getting uneasy, and began to chatter whenever
the mule stumbled.
"Let me see that little bobtail," said the Cap-
tain; and before I knew what he would be at, he
had grabbed Billy, and held him out over the
precipice-merely to scare him, of course. But
Billy yelled frightfully, and when he was lifted
back, he rushed into his cage chattering, and wild
with excitement; .and, looking back at the Cap-
tain, he hugged the Tamarin, as if he meant to
warn her against that wicked stranger.
The traveling friar greeted us very kindly, and
advised us to keep a sharp lookout for rock-

avalanches. "That heavy rain has started them
again," said he; "and the volcanoes cannot be
trusted, either: Mount Cotopaxi is smoking like a
"That man must have traveled a long way,"
said Tommy, when the friar was gone; "the vol-
cano of Cotopaxi is down in Ecuador, is n't it ? "
"Up in Ecuador, you mean," laughed the Cap-
tain. "The peak is quite immeasurably high;
you can see it from any of these ridges near here.
Wait until we are on the other side of the canyon,
where the rocks are not so very steep; I am going
to lend you my hook-stick, and if you can reach
the top of those cliffs ahead there, you will proba-
bly see the peak due south, or south by south-
Tommy took him at his word, and borrowed the
hook-stick as soon as we had passed the cafon.
"It is too cloudy," said he, when he came back;
"but about a mile off I saw a troop of wild deer-
about fifteen or sixteen head, as nearly as I could
make out."
"They must be wild llamas," said the Captain;
"deer are very scarce in this sierra. Hold on If
they are llamas, we can steal upon them unawares.
They are not very sharp-scented."
We kept on for a mile or so, and then turned
our mule into a ravine, leading gradually up to the
top of a little plateau. Tommy had made a good
guess at the distance. About four hundred yards
ahead grazed a flock of llamas, evidently, as yet,
unconscious of any danger. We approached step
for step, taking advantage of every bush, until, in
climbing over a broken lava-cliff, Tommy stumbled,
and the motion sufficed to alarm the outposts of
the herd. Away these went, followed by the flock,
and at so swift a pace that all attempts to get a
shot at them would have been in vain. Some fifty
yards farther up they stopped, however, and looked
back at us.
Gone said Menito, "unless the Captain has
a very good horse. Don't I wish we could catch
one of them alive "
"Catch a llama? You must be crazy," said
Daddy Simon. "They can go uphill like the
wind; and, moreover, they are white underneath;
such llamas bear a charmed life, you know."
"Well, but may be the boy is right," said the
Captain; "there is a young kid in that flock. I
am going to see if I can not disenchant them some-
how or other," he laughed, and galloped away
over the level plateau. Finding he was on their
tracks, the llamas again took to their heels; but
two of them failed to keep up with their flying
companions-the little kid and its mother were
left behind when the main herd disappeared
around the edge of the hill. When, however, the




rider got within rifle-shot range, the dam changed
her mind, and, gathering herself up, bowled away
at full speed, and left her child to its fate. It was
wonderful to see the sagacity of the poor little
thing. Finding that escape was impossible, it
made for the next bush, and crouched down, evi-
dently in the hope that the hunter would pass it
unobserved. Its hope was disappointed, though,
for, ten minutes after, Don Matias returned, with
a pretty fawn-colored llama kid straddling the
pommel of his saddle. We transferred it to a
similar perch on Black Betsy's back, and the boys
agreed that we must keep it for a private pet, if we
could manage to tame it.
The friar's warning had not been in vain. As we
continued on our road, avalanches of rocks and
stones rumbled down all along the mountain-side,
and some of them in places where they could do a
great deal of mischief, for right under the steepest
part of the overhanging cliffs the Indian village of
Tacunga extended along the bank of a little
mountain-stream. Some of the outlying ranches
seemed, indeed, to have been damaged already, for
we saw the people running to and fro as if they
were getting their cows and horses out of the way.
We had nearly reached the cliffs above the vil-
lage, when Captain Matias suddenly reined up his
horse and snatched the halter-strap of our mule.
"Hold on there! "he called out. "There's agar-
rucka ahead-a blockade Confound it, that will
cost us a roundabout ride of five miles at least! "
"What's the matter ?" I asked. "Are the In-
dians going to stop us?"
"No, but the avalanche. Look up there," cried
he-"that whole promontory is ready to come
down "
A torrent of rolling stones drew our attention to
the overhanging cliffs half a mile ahead, and, look-
ing up, we saw that an enormous mass of rock was
going to detach itself from the mountain-side. The
split grew larger and larger;-from the valley below
we heard the fearful cries of the rancheros, who had
already seen the oncoming avalanche; but we
could not help them, and in the next moment the
promontory came down, with a crash that shook
the mountains like an earthquake. A huge cloud
of dust rose from the valley; ten or twelve houses
had been completely buried, but by rare good luck
the first shower of rocks had warned the poor
people in time, and we learned afterward that they
had saved all their children and the larger part of
their cattle.
We had to make a five-mile detour to the left,
and when we got back to the road on the other
side of the promontory, we found a large crowd of
natives congregated near the scene of the disaster.
Ten or twelve of them had begun to clear the road,

but the larger number had gathered around a man
who was performing a strange ceremony-an in-
cantation, intended to propitiate the wrath of the
fire-god to whom the Indians attribute the effects
of the volcanic forces. In the far south-west a dim
smoke-cloud curled up from the crest of the Andes:
toward these mountains the sorcerer had turned
his face, and high over his head he held a vessel
with burning herbs, that diffused a peculiar aro-
matic odor. The Indians were so absorbed in their
ceremony that they hardly noticed us, and, after
watching them for ten minutes or so, we passed
them in silence and continued on our road.
"That 's a volcano-doctor," chuckled the Cap-
tain. He makes them believe that he can bewitch
the earthquake, and the poor wretches are silly
enough to pay him for his hocus-pocus. There
are volcano-doctors in every sierra, and they are
sent for as soon as there is the least sign of
Can they tell an eruption beforehand? asked
"Not always," said the Captain, "but there are
signs that can be generally relied upon-the opening
of fissures in a mountain-side, for instance, or cold
springs turning hot. Before the last outbreak of
Mount Cotopaxi the snow on the peak began sud-
denly to melt, and the people of this neighborhood
were once warned by a shower of sand from the
Don't they sometimes hear a rumbling under-
ground? "
"Yes, before earthquakes," said Don Matias,
"but that is no infallible sign: about forty miles
south from here there is a place they call the Val
de Bramidos, or 'rumbling valley,' on account of
the under-ground noises that have often been heard
there-sometimes like continued discharges of
heavy artillery. Twelve years ago the uproar lasted
full three weeks, and at first all the rancheros took
to their heels; but by and by they ventured back,
and they have now found out that, in spite of all
that racket, the Val de Bramidos is much safer than
many of the northern villages."
"Is n't'that the highway to Bogota?" asked
Daddy Simon, when we crossed a broad wagon-
road, paved with stones and stamped lava.
"Yes, that's the old military overland road,"
said the Captain, though I can show you a much
shorter way across the mountains. I have to inspect
a sentry-post up there, and you wont repent it, if
you come along: there is a glorious view from the
ridge of the Sierra de Santa Maura, which alone
would repay you; besides that, we shall have to
pass a miner's camp, where they are washing gold
from the mountain-creeks."
Oh, yes-please let us go there," said Menito.




"I want to make my fortune before we get to
Bogota-I need a new hat."
We camped that night near the hermitage of an
old mountaineer,-Gil Hernandez, as the Captain
called him,-who had made himself a snug home
by fitting up a natural cave in the basalt-cliffs of
the Sierra de Santa Maura; a homely-looking
burrow from without, although the interior was as
comfortable as any Spanish farm-house in the high-
lands. A larger cave farther
up served him as a stable,
and in the rock-clefts he -
kept a swarm of tame pigeons
and martins. He was a most
kind-hearted old fellow, and,
seeing me bandage Tommy's
sore foot, he offered to lend
us his saddle-mule as far as
Bogota, and to fetch it back-
himself the same day.
Next morning, the Cap- --
tain waked us before day-
break, and took us up to the
top of the cliffs to see the
panorama of the Andes, that
stretched away for thousands -
of miles to the west and-
south-west. The glow of the :-
twilight spread from peak
to peak like a conflagration,
and, when the sun rose high-
er, the summits became gold-
en-red, while the light-blue
heights of the central sierra
revealed the shadows of every
cliff and every ravine.
"Yes," said the hermit,
" I would not give my home
on this ridge for any king's
palace in the lowlands; no
fever, mosquitoes, or dust-
clouds will bother you up
here-no thieves- nor bad
neighbors. I have lived in
these rocks nigh on sixteen
years, and they 've been the
happiest years of my life."
He had built his cot on the very summit of the
ridge, where his goats could find the short, sweet
grass they call yerba delgada, in the Andes; the
southern slopes of the sierra were full of berries of
various kinds, and some three miles farther down
was a valley the natives called "Santa Maria's
Farm," on account of the abundance of wild pota-
toes and ground-nuts.
The hermit agreed to accompany us to the
mining-camp; but before we reached it we stopped

on a little plateau where the Government had built
a military caba~ia, looking very much like the one
where Captain Matias had first met us, three days
before. The guardsman was Gil Hernandez's next
neighbor, and he, too, had made himself a little
farm around his place. We found him in a shed
behind the cabafia, engaged in skinning a couple
of condors. Below their rough outer plumage these
birds have a sort of soft down that brings a good


price in the South American cities, and their enor-
mous wing-feathers are used for different kinds of
ornaments. Condors are much shyer than other
vultures, but the Indians have devised an ingenious
way of trapping them. They are great gormands,
and when they have eaten all they can they are un-
able to fly up without first running along the ground,
with flopping wings, so as to rise in a slanting direc-
tion; and knowing this, the Indians build a picket-
stockade, about twenty yards in circumference, and




bait it with the carcass of some animal. On a
clear day the condors rarely fail to make their ap-
pearance, and the hunter keeps out of sight until
they have gorged themselves with meat, when he
rushes up and attacks the old gluttons with a cud-
gel. They try to take wing then, but the narrow
inclosure prevents them, and thus dozens of them
are often killed in the same trap.
Four miles farther down we reached the mining-
camp of Elmonte, in the valley of a creek that once
might have been a pretty mountain-dell, but was
now a vale of chaos, covered with mountainous
heaps of wet gravel, fallen trees, and broken sluices.
Some twenty Indians and Creoles were at work in
different pits along the creek, and one of them
seemed to be acquainted with our hermit and also
with Captain Matias, for he shook hands with both
and asked them to "jump in and try their luck."
"No, thank you," said the Captain, "but here
are two boys who want to make their fortune; we
have brought an extra mule along, in case they
should find more than they themselves can carry."
"Come on," said the miner. "Here are picks
and two trowel-spades; just help yourselves."
Begin where you please," said the digger.
"There 's no saying where you may strike it."
Menito was an old hand at this business and
went to work in regular Rocky Mountain miner
style, but Tommy shoveled around at random, and
examined every bit of gravel before he threw it

"Yes, it 's all luck," said the miner. "I have
known men to work a month in the same pit till
they gave it up in despair, and another fellow
jumped in and got out a handful of nuggets in
twenty minutes."
"Please, is this gold?" said Tommy, not long
afterward-" these little yellow grains, I mean,"
showing us a sample of his last shovelful.
"Now, did n't I tell you?" said the miner.
"Yes, that's gold-gold-dust, as we call it. About
seventy-five cents you made in ten minutes. Where
did you find that?"
"Somewhere along the creek," said Tommy.
"I do not remember the exact place."
"You don't? You will never find it again,
then," said the miner. "You ought to have called
me as soon as you found the first bit; may be we
might have struck a vein."
He is a new hand at this trade," explained the
"Oho, that accounts for his luck," said the
miner. "Is n't it strange now? I never knew a
person to try this business the first time in his life
without striking a 'bonanza,' by sheer blind fort-
une; after you have been at it for a week or so,
it's all work and no luck."
About a mile below the diggings, we came to
the western slope of the sierra, and our road now
went steadily down-hill through a most intricate
maze of gullies and basalt-cliffs, till we reached the
Spanish settlements in the plain of Bogota.

(To be continued.)


-- .










-------~~~ r
------ ---,

I I \




I WISH that all the children in the world might
get together some beautiful June day, and then
there certainly could be nothing more charm-
ing for them than that they should all be still
for a while, and listen to the wonderful violin-
playing of Eugenio Mauricio Dengremont, the
Let me tell you what I know of him: He was
born March the 19th, 1866, at Rio Janeiro, Brazil.
His father, having other boys, as well as girls, and
being a musician in moderate circumstances, had
no idea of making musicians of his children, and
did not dream that the son born to him this day
was so gifted. But, at the age of four, Mauricio
asked his papa to teach him to play the violin.
This his father did not feel inclined to do. He
was himself a violin-player in the theater orchestra,
and felt the life of an ordinary musician an uncer-
tain one and not desirable for his son; but the
child never gave up the idea of being a violinist,
and would leave his play at any time to stand near
his father and eagerly watch his practice.
At last, in 1872, when the boy was six years
old, his father removed to Montevideo, where he
played again in the theater orchestra, whither the
boy usually accompanied him. Here Mauricio
begged so earnestly to study the violin that his
father, taking him at his word, decided to gratify
him, and said:
Well, my boy, if you begin to study the violin,
you will have to carry the business through."
"I shall do so, Papa," said the boy; and his
lessons began.
He was so small! and so much in earnest! and
his father spent hours bending over the tiny figure,
and guiding the boy's little'arm in the bowing.
And now take notice, all boys and girls who
"would so much love to play well, but can't bear
to practice." Great as this child's natural gifts
are, he, at first, practiced three and four hours
faithfully every day. To be gifted, no doubt,
makes the work easier, but a certain amount of
real drudgery must be done by one who succeeds
in any art, no matter how gifted he may be.
After four months' study, Mauricio could play
the scales-and in thirds, also, (quite difficult on
the violin)-as well and as rapidly as his father; and,
besides, he played so remarkably that his father
discovered him to be really a genius, as his name
indicated, and so he faithfully and strictly attended
to the boy's teaching.

After fourteen months' study, the father decided
to allow the boy to give his first concert, but fear-
ing lest his son might not have the self-control
necessary for a successful public performance, he
took him to a little town-Paysander-up the river,
to make trial.
The concert at Paysander entirely satisfied the
father of the boy's nerve and self-command, and,
returning to Montevideo, he gave his first concert
there to benefit the unfortunate victims of a railroad
accident. Here his playing created a great excite-
ment, and after that, every appearance of his in
public concerts was an ovation.
Since this modest beginning in the South Ameri-
can town, the boy has been petted and flattered by
all Europe, although he is singularly unspoiled,
both son and father being of a generous nature.
But I like to think of him, in his childish grace
and beauty, beginning his musical career with this
kindly deed. He seems to me capable of doing
such a thing nobly.
After the concert in Montevideo, and a grand
concert in Rio Janeiro, he left his brothers and
sisters, and his mother,-whose personal beauty he
inherits,-and went with his father to try his fort-
une in the Old World.
He went first to Lisbon; thence to Madrid,
where he played before the King, and received no
end of honors and decorations; and from there
to Paris, where he gave ten concerts.
Think of it: scarcely ten years old!
From this time-1876-he had private lessons
from Leonard, in Paris. These lessons hardly
would have occupied more than a year, if given
without a break, but they extended over a longer
period, during which he traveled over all Europe,
excepting Russia and Italy. Everywhere he met
with great success.
Such is a meager history of this wonderful boy's
child-life-enough, however, to give us hope of a
glorious manhood for him, for Mauricio is not an
unnaturally precocious child,-a forced hot-house
blossom,-but a healthy, fun-loving, boyish boy,
with buoyant animal spirit, and as ready for
wholesome fun as for earnest study; and withal,
certainly much more of a child than the average
American boy of his age.
But, then, when his face is quiet, the violin
under his chin, and his bow in motion, he is again
something strangely above us,-a true musical



[From a photograph by Anderson.]

VoI,. VIII.-46'





OH, who has seen my doggy dear-he of the
stubby tail-
He of the soft and liquid eyes, and melancholy
wail ?
No more I hear his gentle step, nor see his
happy face,
When licking of his dinner-plate, or running on
a race!

He was as ugly as they grow upon the Isle of
And that 's what makes his loss so great, a'nd
made his price so high!
So tell me now, "ye winged winds that round
my pathway roar,"
Will my dear doggy ne'er come oack? Shall I
ne'er see him more?

He was a brown and curly thing, who ran
about the house,
And up and down the stairs he 'd go, as still
as any mouse;
I have never seen a dog so small, so horrible to
And will that darling, precious thing come never
back to me?

Oh, no! he 's gone! My heart will break!
That terrier from Skye
Has left me for some other home! The tears
fall from my eye.
Alas! If I should search the world, I know it
could not be
That I should find another dog as ugly as was he.

And so I mourn my doggy lost. Good people
join my wail:
He was the dearest little dog that ever wagged
a tail.
He was so ugly! Precious dear! So blest I
can not be
As ever to possess a dog as ugly as was he!

("U-r-r-r-r-r-r-r, Ow, Ow, Ow!")

But stay! What's that mellifluous sound that
breaks upon my ear?
It is Oh, can it then be true It is his voice
I hear!
And now, dull Time, bring all thy woes-I
care not what they be-
Since my delightful ugly pet has been restored
to me.







"WHY do I keep up that horrid habit of taking
snuff? "
Perhaps, my dear boy, you would n't think it
quite such a "horrid habit" if it had saved your
life, as it did mine.
Saved your life, Major?"
That's just what it did. What's the good of
repeating what I said, in such a tone as that-just
as if anybody had doubted it ?
"Only wanted to hear the story," did you?
Well, that's natural enough, boys, and I suppose
I 'm caught now, and in for telling it:
A party of three-myself and two negroes-had
been collecting young animals. We had just capt-
ured a fine young rhinoceros and a very promising
little crocodile, and had tied the captives in our
wagon. We were taking a hasty meal before
starting for home, when we perceived the parent
animals advancing from different quarters to the
rescue of their offspring.
In an instant our guns were cocked. Two aimed
at the galloping rhinoceros, one at the waddling
crocodile. We pulled together. One negro's
bullet hit the reptile on the back; but he was a
hard-shelled crocodile, and was n't a bit hurt. My
gun and the other negro's missed fire. When we
were struggling with the baby crocodile, the locks
of our guns had got under water, and we had care-
lessly forgotten to unload and clean the weapons.
The oxen had not been yoked, and the wagon
stood near a tamarind-tree, which we hastened to
climb. The negroes got up it like monkeys, but I
was indebted to the rhinoceros for the favor of a
hoist. It arrived before I could pull myself up on
the second branch, and it just managed to touch
my foot with its horn, giving me a very useful and
unexpected lift. The tamarind shook with the
shock of the beast's charge.
Soon the crocodile arrived, too, and the blockade
of the tree was complete. At first we had hoped
the animals might contrive to release their young
ones and retreat; but the cords had been too well
tied, and the awkward parents could do nothing
for their young without injuring the little creatures;
so they waited on and on for their revenge. They
were quite friendly to each other, and seemed to
have formed a sort of alliance.
Half a hot day went by, and it became plain
that the animals would outlast us, unless some-

thing turned up. They had two advantages over
us,-in not being obliged to cling to branches, and
in having water at hand, to which they went, one
at a time, to refresh themselves. Before climbing,
we had been forced to drop our fire-arms, wet and
At last I got out my snuff-box, and took a pinch
to aid my deliberations. I wondered whether the
crocodile would think it "a horrid habit"; at all
events, I thought it could do no harm to try. One
of my negroes always carried whip-cord, to mend
the whips and harness of the wagon. I borrowed
this cord, and let down some snuff, in a piece of
paper, within a few inches of the crocodile's snout,
then I shook the string and scattered the snuff.
Shortly afterward, the crocodile made a sound
so very human that I was almost going to call it a
"Ackachu observed the reptile.
"Ackachu! Ackachu! Ackachu! it repeated
at intervals, opening its jaws wide every time.
The rhinoceros was surprised and grieved at this
behavior on the part of its ally. It seemed unde-
cided whether to take it as a personal insult or as
a sign of insanity. This furnished me with an
idea. I would sow the seeds of discord between
the friendly monsters, and turn their brute strength
against each other.
I could not get at the rhinoceros myself, but one
of the negroes was just above it; so I passed him
the box and the string, and directed him to give
the beast a few pinches of snuff, as I had done to
the crocodile.
The latter had just ceased sneezing, when, to
its vexation and disgust, it heard the rhinoceros
apparently beginning to mimic it.
"Ackachu! remarked the rhinoceros; "Acka-
chu! Ackachu! opening his mouth in the very
way the crocodile had done.
It was too much fdr a crocodile to stand. To be
mocked thus, and in the presence of its child!
The blood of the Leviathans was up !
At this moment, we scattered the last of the
snuff in the faces of both animals, impartially.
"Ackachu!" they roared, grimacing at each
other hideously and threateningly for a few mo-
ments. Then they rushed to battle, uttering the
same war-cry. "Ackachu "
The rhinoceros had the best in the first round.
He got his horn under the crocodile's lower jaw,
and tossed it over on its back. The reptile now





seemed helpless, yet, with a sweep of its resistless
tail, it knocked its enemy's fore legs from beneath
him, and prevented his following up his advantage,
promptly. Soon, however, the rhinoceros got
around the prostrate saurian, and was about to
stamp upon the unarmored side' of its body, when

must be numbered among the lost arts of snakes.
There is a kind, though, that can as good as fly,
and this may have deceived some respectable old
It was owing to my unlucky balloon that I got
the chance of seeing this shy and retiring reptile.



a convulsive sneeze came to the reptile's aid, and
gave an electric energy to its muscles. With a
triumphant "Ackachu !" it regained its feet, and
clutched a leg of the rhinoceros in its huge jaws.
This was turning the scales with a vengeance on
the enemy, who now tried to crush the saurian's
shell by means of his superior weight.
Such was the blindness of their fury that I now
felt it was quite safe to descend and yoke the oxen.
We drove off with their young ones before the
very eyes of the monsters, who were too busy to
note our departure. For the moment, their pa-
rental affection had been fairly snuffed out.


So you believe there were no such things as
flying serpents in ancient times, Major ?"
If the ancients were right, my boy, then flying

I was sailing over a grove, watching the antics of a
parrot perched on the very top of a tall palm,
when suddenly something like a bent arrow, or
rocket, shot out of a lower tree, struck the bird,
and.sank down with it through the leaves of the
Unlike an arrow in one respect, the strange
missile coiled and curved in its passage through
the air. Perhaps I should have likened it to a
sling, dragged from the hand of an unskillful
slinger by the force of the slung stone, and follow-
ing the latter in its flight.
Anxious to read the riddle, I descended and
anchored my balloon. Here, perhaps, I thought,
was some new weapon, marvelous as the Australian
boomerang, to grace my collection of savage arms.
However, I saw no lurking savage, and no strange
new missile, from the top of the tree on which I
alighted; but I saw a family party of snakes on




the ground beneath. Two young ones were evi-
dently being drilled by their parents in the mode
of warfare peculiar to their race.
Placing the dead parrot aside, as the prize of
valor or skill, the parent snakes formed a ring with
their bodies. On entering this arena, each young
one-by a strange contortion-formed a knot upon
its gristly tail, and attacked the other with this
artificial weapon. They would advance to the
attack spinning like wheels, and, once within
striking distance, down would come their knots
with a surprisingly quick jerk. They could con-


vert a circle into a straight line and a straight line
into a circle, more rapidly than any professor of
geometry I ever met; yet, though they hit each
other several times, they seemed to do little
damage, for these youngsters, of course, could not
be expected to tie such hard and tight knots as
their elders. A combat between two hardened
old catapults-as I named these reptiles-would be
a very serious matter, I should judge.

This spirited tournament came to a sudden
close. As I was straining forward to get a better
view, a branch cracked beneath my foot, and the
sound caught the heedful ear of the mother snake.
In a second the wary reptile called "time," and
issued a warning hiss; at which her well-trained
offspring hastily retreated, jumping down her
throat for protection.
The catapult is a great inventor-an Edison
among snakes; yet it cannot justly claim a patent
for this mode of sheltering its young in time of
danger. Vipers and rattlesnakes are said to have
practiced the same trick for a great many years.*
The color of the catapult is green; but it is not
half as green as it looks. This I found out to my
cost; for, although the mother had vanished beneath
the long grass, the male began to make mysterious
preparations for war.
He began operations by knotting his tail with
an audible crack. He twisted its knotted end firmly
around a projecting root of the tree on which I was
perched. Then he reared his head toward a
branch which lay directly between his tail and me.
This branch, though seemingly too high, he
reached with ease by simply shooting out an extra
joint-for the catapult is the only serpent that is built
upon the telescopic plan. Having grasped the
branch in his jaws, he began shortening himself
with wonderful contractile power, until his body,
stretched between the root and the branch, looked
like the string of a bent bow, or of a catapult at
full cock.
I now thought it high time to set about unmoor-
ing my balloon, as I did not exactly know what to
expect next. But, before I had untied the first
rope, the snake unwound his tail from the root of
the tree, let go his hold of the branch, shot him-
self into the air, and struck me sharply, with his
knot, on the left shoulder.
The shock of the contact with my shoulder
changed the snake's course in the air. He fell to
the ground some little distance away. He was
quite unhurt, and hastened to prepare for a second
assault. However, I happened to be in as great a
hurry as he was, and just when he had taken posi-
tion for another flight, I let go my anchor-rope,
and up went the balloon.
I had discovered what missile it was that killed
the parrot, but I paid dearly for the knowledge.
My shoulder ached for weeks afterward.

* [Strange to say, the remarkable Major has a foundation for his statement here. The records of some naturalists support him. If it is
true, the viper certainly may claim disinterested parental devotion as an offset against its wicked ways.-EDITOR.]







HERE, boys, is a simple way to make a "scap-
net" or crab-net, without using a mesh-needle.
If there are no stores which keep such things,
any blacksmith can make the ring; and a pole is
easily provided. The ring must have a spike to
drive into the end of the pole, around which should
be a ferrule to prevent splitting.
Having all ready, fasten the pole at some con-
venient height, so that the ring will be out toward
you, and on a level with your eyes. Take a ball
of twine and cut it in pieces-three or four times as
long as you wish your net to be deep. Double
these and loop them, about one inch and a half
apart, around the ring, as in Fig. I. Of course
they will be much longer than here represented.
Then, beginning anywhere, take two strings, one
from each adjoining pair, and make one knot of
them, as in Fig. 2. And so go once around the
whole ring, before beginning the next row. Very
little care and judgment will keep them even and
regular. After five or six rows, you can begin

making the meshes smaller by knotting closer.
Continue making them smaller until the knots
become too crowded, when the opening at the
bottom will be small enough to be tied across by
the exercise of some home-made ingenuity. This
will give a handsome-looking net, such as Fig. 3,
which has the advantage of being strongest where
the most wear-and-tear comes, and where other
nets are weak.
But if you prefer to make the net lighter, and
to narrow it like the regularly made nets, a method
is suggested in Figs. 4 and 5.
When you have made the requisite number of
even rows, as before, begin narrowing by clipping
off one string of a pair (see B, Fig. 5) at four places
equidistant on the same row. Then proceed to
knot as before, excepting at these places, where you




-=-- --r .

-. 1 -, -
... II =- ."e 1' 0,-'




"LITTLE fairy people!
Little fairy people!
'T is your own midsummer day,
Hear the clock strike far away,
In the high church-steeple.
Come, you fairy people! "
So a little maiden sang
In the morning early;
Tying on her home-spun gown,
Tying up her tresses brown,-
Tresses long and, curly,
In the bright morn early.
Nut-brown robin overhead
Listened to her singing;
Circled high above his nest,
Caught the sunlight on his breast,
Trills of laughter ringing
As he heard her singing.
Bees that swung in garden flowers,
Dressed in browns and yellows,
Heard her, though she did not know.
Buzzed their laughter to and fro.
Ah, what merry fellows,
Dressed in browns and yellows!

All around, without, within,
Sunbeams laughed and glistened;
And the brook beside the road
Rippled laughter as it flowed,
Dimpled as it listened
Where the sunbeams glistened.
" Fairies?" sang the brook and bees,
Sang the robin higher,
" If she wants them she must look
'Twixt the covers of a book;
They were never nigher! "
Sunbeams laughed close by her.
Still the little maiden sang,
Sweet the notes outringing.
To her childish faith supreme
Real was every tale and dream.
As the lark's upspringing,
Fresh and clear her singing:
" Little fairy people !
Little fairy people !"
Rang the accents sweet and gay,
" Now the clock begins the day
In the high church-steeple!
Come, O fairy people!"


.Jw -- ':-
5:-".' b.[ -< / -'-.- -
, ,,% ,.- - __ .

.* ,lr,., : .


must take a string from the pair on each side of the
single one, and knot them, allowing the single
string to pass through the knot (c) before closing
it. Be careful to make the tie long enough for
the knot to come even with the others in the same
row. Then pull down the single string, and tie a
simple knot (D) in it, close up to the double knot.
Then cut the string off close. Proceed in the same

manner with the next row, avoiding as much as pos-
sible having the dropped meshes come under one
another. As you get down, you will have to increase
the number of them in each succeeding row, in
order to bring the net together at the bottom.
In this mode of finishing, the meshes toward the
bottom need be made only a little smaller than
those above.


IN order that all our readers may understand the
frontispiece this month, we copy below, from- The
American Historical Record, some paragraphs
relating the history of that famous song, The
Star-Spangled Banner."
It was written during the war with Great Britain,
which is generally spoken of in history as the
war of 1812. The British forces had captured the
city of Washington and destroyed its public build-
ings, and were preparing to attack Baltimore.
Francis Scott Key, a patriotic American, and, at
the time, a citizen of Washington, wrote to his
mother, on the 2d of September, 1814:
"* I am going in the morning to Baltimore, to proceed
in a flag-vessel to General Ross. Old Dr. Beanes, of Marlboro, is
taken prisoner by the enemy, who threaten to carry him off. Some
of his friends have urged me to apply for a flag and go to try to pro-
cure his release. I hope to return in about eight or ten days, tho' it
is uncertain, as I do not know where to find the fleet. *
God bless you, my dear mother. F. S. KEY."
"The President, James Madison, granted' Mr.
Key permission to go, and he went with a friend
in a cartel-ship,* under a flag of truce. They
found the British fleet at the mouth of the Potomac,
preparing to attack Baltimore.
The British admiral agreed to release Dr.
Beanes, but refused to let him or his friends return
that night. They were placed on board of
another vessel, where they were carefully guarded,
to prevent them from communicating with their
countrymen concerning the proposed attack. The
vessel was anchored within sight of Fort McHenry,
which the British fleet proceeded to bombard.
The three Americans were compelled to endure
all night long the anxiety of mind produced by
the cannonade; and they had no means of knowing
the result of the attack, until 'the dawn's early
light.' They awaited that dawn with the most
intense feeling. When it came, they saw with joy
that 'the old flag was still there.'
"It was during this bombardment that Key,

pacing the deck of the vessel, composed that
immortal song, 'The Star-Spangled Banner.' The
rude, first draught of it was written on the back of
a letter, and he wrote it out at full length on his
arrival in Baltimore." Soon after, it was printed,
and at once became exceedingly popular. "It
was sung everywhere, in public and private, and
created intense enthusiasm."
Although the famous song is no doubt well
known to most of our readers, we here reprint it in
full, as it was originally written by Mr. Key:

O SAY can you see, by the dawn's early light,
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming;
Whose broad stripes and bright stars thro' the perilous fight
O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming
And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there;
O say does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?
From the shore dimly seen thro' the mists of the deep,
Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes,
What is that which the breeze o'er the towering steep,
As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses ?
Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam,
In full glory reflected now shines in the stream;
'Tis the star-spangled banner!-O long may it wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.
And where is that band who so vauntingly swore
That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion
A home and a country should leave us no more ?
Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollution.
No refuge could save the hireling and slave
From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave;
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

And thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand
Between their loved homes and the war's desolation;
Blest with victory and peace may this Heaven-rescued land
Praise the POWER that hath made and preserved us a nation.
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,
And this be our motto: "IN GOD Is OUR TRUST" ;
And the star-spangled banner, 0 long may it wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

Cartel, or cartel-ship: A ship used in making the exchange of prisoners of war, or in carrying propositions to an enemy; it is a
ship of truce, and must not be fired upon nor captured.




BY B. E.

LIT-TLE VIC-TOR was ver-y fond of dogs and cats, and all sorts of pets.
But there was one thing he liked bet-ter than any pet, and that was to have
his own way. There was a large cat in the house, which Vic-tor called
his cat. Her name was Silk-y, and she was ver-y good for catch-ing mice.
One day, Vic-tor found four lit-tle kit-tens in her box; and his moth-er
told him these were Silk-y's kit-tens. "Then they are mine," said Vic-
tor, "for Silk-y is my cat, and her kit-tens are my cats."
But I can not have so man-y cats a-bout the house," said his moth-er,
"and I must give these young ones a-way as soon as they are large
Then Vic-tor be-gan to cry, and he begged his moth-er so hard to let
him keep the kit-tens that, at last, she said he might do so if he would feed
them and take care of them. Vic-tor said he would al-ways do this, so his
moth-er let him keep the kit-tens.
At first they ate noth-ing but milk, but when they grew big-ger
they ate meat and bread, and man-y oth-er things. Vic-tor oft-en for-got to
feed them, and then they would get ver-y hun-gry, and go a-bout the house
mew-ing and whin-ing for some-thing to eat. The rest of the fam-i-ly did
not like this, and his moth-er told Vic-tor that if he did not feed his cats she
would give them a-way. Then Vic-tor prom-ised to do bet-ter, and for a few
days he fed his cats. But he soon for-got a-gain to do this, and the cats
be-came as hun-gry as be-fore.
One warm day, he took his bas-ket with him to the gar-den to
gath-er some flow-ers for his moth-er. The cook had giv-en him a big
slice of bread and but-ter, and he thought it would be a nice thing to eat this
as he walked a-bout the sha-dy gar-den. But his five cats fol-lowed him,
and mewed and whined, and begged so hard for some of the bread and
but-ter, that he was o-bliged ev-er-y now and then to give them some.
Vic-tor did not like his cats to be-have in this way, and he said to his
moth-er: "Sup-pose this whole world were full of cats, and on-ly one
lit-tle boy to feed them. Would not that be bad?"
"Yes," said his moth-er, it would be ver-y bad."
It is not just like that," said Vic-tor, "but that is the way I feel."
"I think," said his moth-er, "that it would be well for you to let
me give a-way some of the young cats."
"No," said Victor, "I want them all. They are my cats, and I will




try to teach them not to fol-low me a-bout and mew when I am eat-ing
a piece of bread and but-ter."
"It would be bet-ter," said his moth-er, "for you to try to teach
your-self to feed them at the prop-er time."
"I will try to do that," said Vic-tor. And for a few days he fed his
cats at the prop-er time, and they did not trou-ble him at all. But he soon
,- ... .-- .. for-got a-gain to do this,
I"';-' ....and the cats whined and
.j mewed worse tlan they
n. ~ev-er did be-fore. Then
.- .-ic-tor went to his moth-
-."- er and said: Don't you
,,: _, think that one cat is e-
.- -. ...... .- enough for a lit-tie boy ?"
S, it Yes, in-deed, I do,"
-Y. u w said his moth-er.
d .--t "And I think," said
""I Vic-tor, "that a lit-tie boy
Y W ought to have a large cat,
I'. named Silk-y, who knows
where to go to get her
own food, and who nev-er
went mew-ing af-ter him
-D -un-til he had five cats, who
are so much trou-ble to
feed that he could not al-
ways re-mem-ber to give
them some-thing to eat."
S"Yes," said his moth-
er, "I think the lit-tle boy
i had bet-ter keep Silk-y,
and let his moth-er give
-. ....i. a-way the young cats.
;- And I think, too, that af-
ter this the lit-tle boy would do bet-ter if he should al-low his moth-er
to de-cide for him what is right for him to do."
",I like to find out for my-self what is right," said Vic-tor, "but some-
times it is a great deal of trou-ble."
"You will al-ways find that to be true," said his moth-er.
And then she gave away the four young cats.




73 K-I ~E-P LI.[uy

-, --

1 --..,

'T. / -

'I- I



I 'M-a plain Jack-in-the-Pulpit, young school-
folk and play-fellows, as you all know, and given
to speaking my mind, and what I wish to say now
is this:
I do not want to be turned, this July, into a
Jumping-Jack, as I generally am whenever the
Glorious Fourth, as you call it, comes around. I
want peace and quiet, and a chance to reflect upon
this great country. But with cannon, pop-guns,
and fire-crackers blazing, snapping, and banging
about me, how can I do it ?
It is n't rational, this noisy way of celebrating
things; it's positively dangerous, and besides

Hey? Oh, that's it, is it? It would n't be the
Fourth of July without it, eh ? Oh, well-if that 's
the case, Jack begs pardon, and-by the way, if
you have n't any punk you '11 find any number
of cat-tails growing down in my meadow, and you 'd
better get some and dry them so as to be ready.

A LONG time ago, in the Indian country, two
little girls slipped away from the Fort, and went
down into a hollow, to pick berries. It was Emmy,
a girl of seven years, with Bessie, her sister, not
yet six.
All at once, the sun flashed on something bright,
and Emmy knew that the pretty painted things she
had' seen crawling among the bushes must be
hostile Indians, with gleaming weapons in their
hands. She did not cry out, nor in any way let
them know that she had seen them. But she
looked all about, saw that some of the creeping
Indians already were between her and the Fort,
and-went on picking berries, as before.
Soon, she called aloud to Bessie, with a steady
voice: Don't you think it 's going to rain?" So

they both turned and walked toward the Fort.
They reached the tall grass, and, suddenly, Emmy
dropped to the ground, pulling down Bessie, too.
"What are you looking for?" asked the little
sister, in surprise.
Then Emmy whispered to Bessie, and both of
them stole silently and quickly on hands and knees
through the long grass, until they came to the road,
when they started up, ran swiftly to the Fort, dashed
through the entrance, and had the gate safely
closed behind them !
Those girls are quite old now, but they remem-
ber very well the day they saved themselves, the
Fort which their father commanded, and the sol-
diers and other people in it, besides.

K. L. HAS answered her own question, "How
many toes has a cat?" which your Jack passed over
to you in February. She says: Cats generally
have four toes on each hind foot and five on each
fore foot, eighteen in all." The Little School-
ma'am thinks that this answer is right, for, of
course, deformed cats are not to be included.
Belle Baldwin quotes an old punning rhyme:

" Can you tell me why
A hypocrite's eye
Can best descry
On how many toes
A pussy-cat goes?

" A man of deceit
Can best count-er-feit [count-
And so, I suppose,
He can best count her toes."

Answers came also from Edward F. Biddle-
"Sarpedoia"-B. C.-M. E. G.-S. E. Coyle-
V. Meredith-Ella M. Parker-and Nelly Loomis.

DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: Please let me have room to say a
word about some bird acquaintances of mine and their queer ways.
We have a hen who is a great gossip. She made a nest in the
yard close to our kitchen, laid eggs in it, and sat on them. But, at
every noise in the room, she would leave the nest and run to the
kitchen-door, to find out what was the matter. I am sorry to say
that all her chicks were born deformed in some way, and we have an
idea that this was the lesson sent to her by Dame Nature to teach
her to be less careless and inquisitive in future.
We have a hen of better character, though,-one who is noted for
taking the most tender and tireless care of her own children, and also
for helping chicks in distress. One day, she saw a chick drowning
in a water-bucket, so she jumped upon the edge of the bucket,
reached over, laid hold of the chick with her beak, pulled him out,
shook him to get the water off, and then set the scared little creature
on the ground.
And we had, too, some Shanghai hens, who cherished high
notions of hen-dignity. They sat on the nest four deep, one on top
of another; and, when the maid pulled them off, they ran to the
rooster, and all three told him at once of her harsh treatment of them.
The rooster immediately few at the maid, and stormed at her so
fiercely that she ran away. It was very funny to look at, but the
maid did not like it at all.-Yours truly, F. M. LEE.

YOUR Jack is informed by his friend E. C. G.,
that queer, round, flat, little "stones," with holes
in the middle-similar to the "button-molds"
mentioned by Shirley Martin in his May letter to
me-are found in northern England. There, the
children who play with them call them St. Cuth-
bert's Beads"; E. C. G. could not discover why.
She learned, however, that these beads really are
fossilized joints of ancient "animals," now known as
encrinites, which once had the appearance of
flowers growing on long, jointed stems from the





surfaces of rocks. Sometimes, the body parts also
are picked up, and these the children call "lily
stones," from their resemblance to lily blossoms.
At one time, these curious "animals" covered the
bottom of the sea as thickly as a wheat-field is
covered with growing stalks; and vast beds of
marble have been found which learned men say
are made of the skeletons of encrinites.
If the Little School-ma'am were here just now, I'd
ask her whether these encrinites were not plants as
well as animals-a sort of connecting link. I 've
been told that they were. Who knows about this?

DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: I know of something so strange that
I must tell it to you:
A naval officer, at a banquet given to some Chinese mandarins on
board his ship, showed to them with great pride a handsome drink-
ing-glass of European make, studded with golden stars. The
mandarins admired it very much, but said that their countrymen
could do work far more extraordinary than that. And they offered
to wager that, if the glass were broken, a Chinese workman should
repair it, preserving its beauty, and also its use as a drinking-vessel.
The wager was taken up, the glass was crushed beneath a boot-heel
into hundreds of pieces of all shapes and sizes, and the fragments
were given to a Chinaman to be put together.
When I saw the repaired glass, it not only showed every one of its
golden stars, but it seemed to be delicately veined all over, and
sprinkled with shining dew-drops. On looking closely, the veins were
found to be the joinings of the pieces, and the drops of light proved
to be the sparkling ends of metal rivets. Each rivet was fastened
within the thickness of the glass,-not one of them passed entirely
through; and the goblet held water when only part-filled; but in the
middle of the side was a hole of about the size of a pin's point, where
one tiny fragment of glass was wanting.
And so the mandanns gained the wager, and proved the astonish-
ing skill of at least one of their patient countrymen.-Yours truly,
L. H.
NOT far from your Jack's pulpit is an old barn
where there was a deal of twittering and chatter-
ing among the swallows, very early a few mornings
ago. And above the din rose shrill cries as if some
unlucky swallow were in trouble. I learned after-
ward that he had been guilty of the unbirdly act
of sleeping too long, that morning. The others
darted to and fro, each with something in his bill,
and, pretty soon, hanging by the tips of his long
wings, near one of the nests, I saw the lazy swallow
plastered to the barn-wall with some sticky stuff
brought by his companions. Fast and faster they
worked, while the hanging bird kept crying.
Deacon Green came out of his cottage, to see what
was wrong; and he soon set the little fellow free.
But-would you believe it?-after flying about
for a short time, the little "lie-abed" actually went
back to his nest to enjoy another nap This was
too much, and his neighbors pounced upon him in
a twinkling and began to renew their punishment.
I was wondering how the affair would end, when
out came the Deacon again, this time with a pitcher
in his hand. He set a ladder against the barn,
climbed up, released the sleepy-head, and then
poured water over him and his nest.
This settled the matter. The way in which that
swallow immediately flew crooked "W s and
and-so-forths in the air was something wonder-
ful. He certainly was not ill; he was too lively
for that; but he seemed to have lost the thread
of the day, somehow, and to be trying to find it.

MEN and monkeys make suspension-bridges;
men build them with strong wire ropes, and mon-
keys make theirs by clinging to one another's tails.
But there are other creatures that make suspension-
bridges-the Driver Ants of Africa-fellows half an
inch long, with big heads that must have clever
brains in them.
They work on a plan similar to that of the mon-
keys. A large ant takes hold of the branch of a
tree with his fore legs, and lets his body hang;
then another ant climbs down the first one, to
whose hind legs he clings, letting his own body
hang; and so the little fellows keep on until a long
chain of them hangs from the tree. Then they
swing until the ant at the loose end catches hold
of the tree they wish to reach; and the bridge is
As soon as the main body of the army has crossed
the bridge, the ant on the first tree lets go of the
branch, and climbs up his comrades to the second
tree; the other makers of the living suspension-
bridge follow his example, and they take their
place at the rear of the marching column.

DEAR MR. JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: I send you a picture of a little
chicken who was deserted by his mother, aid left to face the rough,
selfish world, all by himself. But he was not down-hearted; not
he! All day long he would cheerfully scratch for a living, and,
when night came, it was his custom to march contentedly into a

certain room in the house, and cuddle under a feather-duster that
stood in the corner. There he would sleep, all snug and warm,
among the feathers of his queer foster-mother. This seemed to me
so funny and pathetic, that I thought you would like to know about
itr.--Yours truly, EMMA K. PARRISH.






As MANY of our readers, doubtless, will observe certain changes
on the cover of the present number of this magazine, it is right to
give them a few words of explanation. They will notice that
ST. NICHOLAS now is published by The Century Co., of New York,
instead of by Scribner & Co., as of old; and in this they may
feel a sense of loss, as though the familiar pages had in some way
grown strange. But it is not so. There is a change and yet no
change. In every respect, ST. NICHOLAs is to remain as it has
been-a gay, stanch little ship, manned by the same crew, and with
the same strong hand at the helm that has steered it heretofore as
a business enterprise. The only difference is that the captain and
crew have resolved to own the vessel they run, and so, with the
consent of all concerned, have purchased the shares of former part-
owners. In other words, this magazine, as a property, now mainly
belongs to Mr. Roswell Smith, who first conceived the idea of ST.
NICHOLAS, and to whose wise and liberal business management its
success is largely due. As President of the Century Co., and its
active manager, he intends that this periodical shall continue to be,
in every respect, the same ST. NICHOLAs that has won favor here-
tofore, holding on, of course, to its first principle, which is to grow
and improve in every way it can.
The editor, in telling you this, dear readers, can not but recall the
day when, all aglow with generous enthusiasm,-an enthusiasm
which has never abated,-Mr. Roswell Smith and his colleagues put
all their wishes and restrictions into one general request: "Conduct
the new magazine entirely in the interest of girls and boys, and let
it be as nearly perfect as money and painstaking can make it."
There were no "ifs" and butss," no troublesome economies.
The times were dull. Business of all kinds seemed at a stand-still
just then, and the starters of an enterprise like this had every
reason to be cautious. But they believed in stepping boldly into the
matter. If the young folks wanted a good magazine, they should
have it, and it would be sure to "pay" both publishers and children
in the long run.
From that day to this, the generous injunction of the founders of
the magazine has been in force, and to fulfill it is the ardent purpose
of its writers, artists, and the editor,-making one and all eager and
happy in their work.
But, after all, the best inspiration for us all must come from
the boys and girls themselves. In your hearty interest and appre-
ciation, young friends, ST. NICHOLAs finds life and strength,
and builds sure hope of a long and prosperous existence. Now
is the time for drawing close in mutual help and understanding.
Tell us freely your wishes, your preferences, and your needs, and
we will meet you according to our best judgment and ability. Soon
you shall be told our plan for taking you all into a sort of editorial
partnership, so that every one of you who reads ST. NICHOLAS may, in
effect, have a voice in its management, and a responsibility to make
it better and better. By this we do not mean drier and drier, but
really better and better. Liveliness, freshness, heartiness are in the
blood of youth, and without these qualities a magazine for boys and
girls would be a sorry thing, indeed.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I live in the Sandwich Islands, and I am
always very glad when the ST. NICHOLAS comes. I have four
brothers who are very fond of riding horseback. I have a little gar-
den, in which I work every day.
The other day we all went down to the sea to bathe, and we took
our lunch with us. The waves were so high that we could not stand
when they came rolling in. My brothers filled a pail with crabs and
little fish, and set it on the shore, but high wave carried the pail
We passed Papa's new sugar-mill on our way home, and rode
through the cane-fields. When the cane is in flower, it looks very
pretty. I like to go down to the mill, and go around and taste sirup
and sugar.
Good-bye, ST. NICHOLAS. I am eight years old, and my name

THE picture of Eugenio Mauricio Dengremont, on page 72x, was
drawn by Mr. Birch from a beautiful photograph of this famous
young violinist, taken by Anderson, 785 Broadway, N. Y,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I thought you would be glad to know
about our entertainment, which we had here. We had some nice
singing of temperance glees, the juvenile play of "Blue Beard,"
and the Fan-Drill for eight little girls. We were dressed very like
the pictures in the January ST. NICHOLAS, only in different colored
cambrics,-pink and white, blue and white, etc. Mamma drilled all
the little girls a month beforehand, and, when the drill came off,
there was a large audience. The Fan-Drill went off charmingly,
and everybody was pleased with it, and some day we hope to have
it again.-Yours truly, JULIA T. PEMBER.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Your June article on Ostrich-farming"
.. .. ....i me, as-I had been reading about the queer
i_." l" .-, .i [1,1; ..: : juth Africa.
But the ostriches seem to me to be the queerest things of all.
Just think,-when an ostrich-nest has been found during the absence
of the parents, and the eggs have not been taken away at once, the
finderis sure to see, on his return, that the old birds have smashed
every one of the eggs! They will do this even when the eggs have
not been handled, and when the discovererhas notbeen within fifteen
feet of the nest.
I can not see why in the world the birds should wish to destroy the
eggs merely because somebody has looked at them; but what puzzles
me even more is how the absent birds can know that some one has
been prying into their home. And, if they don't like the eggs to be
seen, why don't they hide their nests?
Perhaps, the reason is the same that makes them believe they are
safely concealed from the hunter's view when only their heads are
buried in the sand. Some persons say that ostriches do this simply
because they are stupid; but I should be glad to think better of them,
if possible, and I hope somebody will let us know of a more agreeable
reason. May be, we do not fully understand the birds. Ostriches
oughtto have clever brains as well as fine feathers, to make up for their
ungainliness and awkward ways.-Yours truly, G.S. K.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: My mother knows a gentleman in England
who has two tame toads, and this is how he first found them: One
Sunday, when he was sitting reading in his fernery, be saw two toads
coming down the path very slowly. One, which was lame, limped
behind; and they went on until they came to the rockery, which was
high and covered with moss and ferns. Then the first toad jumped
on the bottom stone, and taking the lame foot of his companion in
his mouth, helped him up from one stone to another, in this way,
until they reached the top. From that time the gentleman tookgreat
notice of them, and they soon grew tame.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: You are known and loved more than
I could tell you, in our far-away nook of the Land of Flowers."
* Perhaps you would like to hear about some of our
Let me tell you about the wonderful "lime-sinks," that help to
make our Florida famous. These are large basins, or lakes, the
waters of which are either dark blue or brown, and filled with fish.
One of these sinks is almost a river, and its water flows continually
in a narrow bed, between banks shaded with magnolias and other
rich and scented growths. The trees lock their branches over the
current, which slides along in perpetual sweet-odored shade, with
graceful ferns in tall ranks at either side. Then, too, we have a
lake, out of which the bottom falls once in every fourteen years,
with a rush and loud roar; and, in the course of a month, it fills
again to its former level.
Of course I could tell you ever so much more, but this must do
for the present. Your friend and reader, J. C. McC.

A CORRESPONDENT sends an interesting letter concerning what he
terms "Repeated Inventions"; but we have room for only a part
of what he writes:
Gunpowder was discovered, forgotten, and re-invented more than
once, as Mr. Judson told us in his article on Gunpowder," printed
in ST. NICHOLAS for July, 1877. And there are many other things
which have been invented more than once,-the steam-boat, for
instance. Only fifty years after the discovery of America, a barge
was propelled by steam in the harbor of Barcelona, in Spain. The
subject was dropped,-forgotten,-until John Fitch, of Connecticut,
in 1787, made and ran, in his native country, the first steam-boat
that deserved the name.
The art of printing with movable types, re-invented in Germany
nearly five hundred and fifty years ago, already had been known, in
part, five centuries earlier, in China; while Roman potters, before
the Christian era, stamped their wares with such types.
The Chinese were enlightened with coal-gas hundreds and hun-




dreds of years before that bright idea dawned in the mind of a
Sun-pictures of a simple kind were made in the fifteenth century
by Leonardo da Vinci, the great painter, engineer, architect,
chemist, and natural philosopher. The art was forgotten, but was
re-invented in .76o. It again perished, but was revived by James
Watt, the father of the steam-engine. A third time it was lost, but
only to be found once more, and firmly established by a Frenchman,
named Daguerre, after whom the new kind of picture was called,
for some time, the Daguerreotype.
Samuel Finley Breese Morse invented, and compelled the use of,
the electric recording telegraph, in 2844; but in X746 a Frenchman
passed electricity through more than a mile of wire; and in 1774-
two years before the first Fourth of July-a man in Switzerland
actually sent messages by telegraph.
Some inventions were brought out at the same time by persons so
widely apart that neither of them could possibly know what the
other was doing. Thus the quadrant-an instrument used in navi-
gating ships-was invented at the same time by one man in this
country and by another in Europe. H. K. G.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl twelve years old. I have
two sisters and one brother, all older than 1 am. We take the ST.
NICHOLAS, and like it real well. We keep a few sheep. In the
spring of x880, one of oursheephadtwo lambs, and would own only
one of them. SoPa told us that if we would take care of the rejected
lamb, we might sell it in the fall, and take the money that it brought
to get the ST. NICHOLAS. So we named the lamb ST. NICHOLAS,
and nick-named it "Nic. In the fall, Nic was n't quite as large
as the rest of the lambs, but Pa gave us three dollars, and said that
"Nic" was his. We bought the ST. NICHOLAS with the three
dollars.-Yours truly, ALTA HANSELL.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We want to tell your readers about our
rabbits. Three years ago we had one young one given to us, which
was black and white; but a boy killed it, and then we got another,
which was white, and is alive now. Since that, we have had forty-
eight, of which eight are alive now. Seven of them are about three
weeks old, and can run around faster than the old ones.
When we feed them, we set a saucer of milk on the floor of the
rabbit-house, and the old ones begin to drink first; then the little
ones begin to come out of the nest, one at a time, and get around
the saucer, and try to drink. All but one are silk-haired rabbits.
They have all got bright red eyes.
We are eight and twelve years old.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We Old-London friends of yours have
been very much interested in reading the story of Mary Queen of
Scots, which you lately gave us, for not long ago we went to West-
minster Abbey and saw her tomb. It is very fine, and the beautiful
alabaster figure of the Queen resembles polished ivory, and the face
is supposed to be a perfect likeness of her. We also saw the altar
erected by Charles II. to the memory of the little princes who were
murdered in the Tower. The inscription says: "Here lie the relics
of Edward V., King of England; and Richard, Duke of York,
who, being confined in the Tower, and there stifled with pillows,
were privately and meanly buried by order of their perfidious uncle,
Richard, the Usurper. Their bones, long inquired after and wished
for, after lying one hundred and ninety-one years in the rubbish of
the stairs, were, on the 17th of July, 1674, by undoubted proofs, dis-
covered, being buried deep in that place. Charles II., pitying their
unhappy fate, ordered these unfortunate princes to be laid among
the relics of their predecessors, in the year 1678."
We saw many things in the Abbey to interest us, and which many
of our boy and girl readers would like to see, also.-We are your
delighted readers, CARL AND NORRIS.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Frank Greenwood's letter which you
printed some time ago suggested to me that I might tell your
readers about our Bird-saucer, which we set on last summer for the
birds to drink from. For a long time the only way we knew the
birds used it was by finding feathers in the water, and, as we filled
the saucer every morning, the feathers showed plainly that there
were frequent visitors. One morning, however, when my brother
opened his blinds earlier than usual, he saw a robin in the dish,
dipping his head into the water, flirting his feathers, and having a
glorious bath, while, patiently waiting within a few inches of the
saucer, stood another robin and a sparrow, watching every motion,
and eager to hop in the instant he hopped out.
But there is also a sad history connected with the little saucer.
This autumn we had a new kitty, who proved to be a remarkably
fine mouser, and I grieve to say an equally successful bird-catcher.
I was puzzled to know how he managed to bring in every day an
old bird, for I had found that only the young and foolish birds were
easily caught. But one morning I discovered puss crouched behind
the tree which shaded Robin's "free bath," all ready for a spring at
a fine, large fellow, who was so deeply engaged in a thorough wash

that he had no eyes for puss, hardly for me. Perhaps it is scarcely
necessary to add that puss did not catch tltat bird; or how indig-
nant he looked at me for interfering with his sport. After this, the
dish was placed in the center of the lawn, where kitty could find no
shelter near enough for his plans, and I am glad to report that he
has brought in but one bird since. 0. 0.

THE best reply we can give to "An Anxious Mother's letter
concerning her little girl is the following poem lately sent to us by
Miss Josephine Pollard:
Victoria Ransom
Was really quite handsome
And stylish, so every one said,
And it would n't have mattered
Had she been less flattered,
Or had a more sensible head.
But these declarations,
From friends and relations,
So pleased Miss Victoria, alas!
That most of the morning
Was spent in adorning
Herself by the aid of the glass.
So vain and so silly
Her actions were, really
Her claims as a beauty grew small;
And after a season,
With very good reason,
She was n't admired at all.
But Victoria Ransom
Still thought herself handsome,
And daily her vanity fed;
And in my estimation,
Each friend and relation
Was to blame for thus turning her head.

H. M. R.--. Pitcairn's Island is but seven miles around.
2. It was peopled in 1789 by mutineers from the English ship
"Bounty." In x856 there was not room on the island for the descend-
ants of the first arrivals, and all the inhabitants were removed to
Norfolk Island. Three years later, twenty-one of them returned to
their former home; in 1864 a company of twenty-seven went back;
and the latest count shows that there now are ninety-five persons
on the island,-all of them descended from the mutineers who first
settled upon it.
3. Of these ninety-five, there are ten boys and seventeen girls be-
tween the ages of twelve and seventeen years, and forty-two children
not yet twelve years old.

THOSE of our readers who were interested in the article on school-
luncheons, printed in ST. NICHOLAS for September, 1877, will be
glad to read the following frank letter from a school-girl of Cold-
water, Michigan:
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: In looking over the back numbers of ST.
NICHOLAS, I came across the piece entitled "School-luncheons."
I thought that some of your readers would like to hear about a
"spread" five fun-loving school-girls had. Each of us brought
different things. I don't remember exactly what we each took, but
we had a grand dinner. The bill of fare was bread and butter, cold
meat, pickles, six kinds of cake, oranges, pop-corn, candy, and
lemonade. The janitor's wife kindly gave us the use of her dining-
room, and loaned us plates, knives and forks, etc.
I suppose the "Little School-ma'am" will be shocked at reading
our menu, and still more to learn that we eack ate every kind
of cake. We gave our teacher a plate of pop-corn, oranges, and
candy. She seemed to be much pleased. After our dinner we
danced in the halls until we were ready to drop. We were all
sick that afternoon.
We have had several spreads since that day, but I never shall
forget that one.-Your constant reader, MABEL R.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I had a black kitten that I used to call
"Jet, because he was jet black. Once I had a bad cold, and my
cousin May was visiting me; we could not go out-of-doors because
of my cold, so we had to find amusement in the house. Mamma
gave me alum and salt water for my sore throat, so we played that
"Jet" was sick, too. We put him in my doll's bed, which isquite
large, and gave him some of the alum and salt water, with a spoon.
But the strangest thing was that he seemed to like it, for, every time
he came into the house, he would go right to the bed and get in him-
self-Your little friend, NETTIE L. FROST.



HERE are some curious arithmetical facts and puzzles. Some of
our readers may already have come across them separately elsewhere,
but we now print them in one budget, as sent by A. G.
If the number 3 be multiplied by any number, the.sum of the
figures in the product will be 3, or a multiple of 3.
If any number be multiplied by 9, the sum of the figures in the
product will be 9, or a multiple of 9.
If any number be divided by 9, and the sum of its digits divided
by 9, the remainders will be the same.
If from any number you subtract the same number written back-
ward (i. e., the figures reversed), the remainder will be a multiple
of 9.

-_ -

-- -.

OF the thousand members of the Agassiz Association, more have
expressed a preference for the study of entomology than for almost
any other branch. Curiously enough, the girls seem to be quite as
fond of insects as the boys are. It is not difficult to account for this
preference. The many-hued wings of butterflies flashing in the sun,
the metallic gleam of beetles, the feathery grace and rich coloring
of moths, the dreamy pinions of dragon-flies, the excitement of the
chase, and, above all, the mysterious and symbolic changes which
attend-insect-life, shed a bright fascination about insect-study.
Attracted by this light, our boys and girls are fluttering about the
homes of bugs and beetles very much in the same manner that
bugs and beetles butter about the lights in our human habitations.
Let me, then, hasten to answer the three questions which are
puzzling so many of our correspondents: How catch? how kill?
how keep? By far the best way to catch a butterfly is to find a
caterpillar; keep him in a glass box; feed him with leaves of the
plant on which you found him; and watch him day by day, as he
changes his various garments, "spins himself up" till he bursts or
perforates his cerements and unrolls his wings, with every painted
shingle in its place, his "feathers quite unruffled on his head, and
his six legs under him in unmutilated entireness. Full directions
for raising insects, making glass cases, etc., are contained in a little
book called "Insect Lives," published at a dollar, by Robert
Clarke, Cincinnati, Ohio.
In addition to this method of capture, you will need a ligh
gauze net. Any boy can make one of these in half an hour. Get
three-fourths of a yard of silk veiling; ask Mother to make a bag
of it, with a hem around the top wide enough to run a pipe-stem

The product of any two consecutive numbers can be divided by
2, and the product of three consecutive numbers can always be
divided by 6.
The product of two odd numbers is odd, while the product of any
number of consecutive numbers is even.
Two PUZZLES: A man was carrying a cake of maple-sugar. It
fell and broke into four pieces, and with those four pieces he could
weigh anything from one pound to forty. What was the weight
of each piece ?
Ans. 3, 9, 27.
Find three square numbers, which shall be in arithmetical
Ans. 1, 25, 49.

through; pass a thick wire through this and bend it into the shape
shown in the little picture; fasten the ends of this wire to a light
stick, five or six feet long, and your net is
made. A third method of capturing moths
is that of painting trees with a mixture of
rum, beer, and sugar. This is done in the
early evening, and later, lantern in hand,
you go about from tree to tree and tap into
your net the insects stupefied by the sweet but fatal sirup.
To kill insects, provide yourself with a wide-mouthed jar. A
candy-jaris good. Lay three or four pieces of cyanide of potassium,
the size of a walnut, on the bottom of the inside; pour over these
plaster of Paris, made liquid by water, until the lumps of poison are
covered. The plaster will quickly harden, leaving a smooth and
deadly floor, on which any insect, when dropped, will quickly and
quietly pass away. The jar must be kept stopped with an air-tight
cover. It will keep its strength all summer.
Never ,jass a fin through a living insect.
Chloroform, etc., have no permanent effect on large moths. We
have had some heart-rending experiences, which would satisfy you
of this; but we spare you the pain of their recital. -
But the greatest problem is how to preserve our specimens.
Well do I remember my dismay at finding, on my return from a
summer vacation, that the wretched little Dermestes had turned a
fine collection of Lelidoitera into sad little heaps of sawdust, and
broken legs, and antenna.
To prevent this destruction, beetles and other small insects should
be soaked in a solution of arsenic in alcohol (fourteen grains of
arsenic to a pint and a half of alcohol). Ofcourse, you should ask
your parents, or some older friend, to attend to these preparations
which I have mentioned, as great care is necessary in handling the
Butterflies and moths should be pinned into cedar cases, made air-
tight and strongly guarded by lumps of gum-camphor or cyanide of
potassium. In addition to these precautions, all specimens should
be subjected to a rigid quarantine of a month before being trans-
ferred to the collection. Even then, eternal vigilance is the price of
success. The cases must be carefully examined every month, and
any indications of danger must be regarded. In such event, pour a
few drops of chloroform into the case, and close the cover. This
will drive the destructive creatures into sight from crack and cranny.
Kill them, preserving one or two for specimens, and renew your
previous precautions. In the Southern States, tin cases will prove
effectual against ants.
Another paper must be devoted, at a later time, to this subject,
and we must-tell you how to prepare your specimens for the cabinet;
but for the present we must be content with cautioning you to pin
beetles through the right wing case, and not between the wings.
Next time, we must tell about some of our most interesting chap.
ters,-where they are and what they are doing.
By the way, our summer vacation will begin in a few days, and
we shall be off,-the trout know where; so we shall be obliged to
ask our numerous unseen friends to reserve their letters until the
fall term calls us back to the Academy. Please send no letters
between July xst and September x5th. After that, address, as usual,
HARLAN H. BALLARD, Lenox Academy, Lenox, Mass.





UPON the day named by the primals, America gained the finals.
CROSS-WORDS: I. Sudden growths. 2. A constellation. 3.
To reproach. 4. A deserter. 5. A vegetable. 6. Enormous. 7.
A prognostic. 8. A quarrel between clans. 9. A jest. 1o. A
mischievous boy. i. The art of reasoning. 12. An inhabitant of
New England. F. A. W.

THE central letters (indicated by stars), when read downward,
spell the first name and surname of a person famous in history.
AcRoSS: x. In cannonading. 2. Nourished. 3. A slender stick.
4. To equip. 5. Past. 6. A small barrel. 7. To possess. 8. A
label. 9. To inquire. o. An exclamation, xo. Crime. 12. A
conjunction. 13. A sweet substance. 14. To praise. 15. A
learner. x6. Part of a church. EDWARD F. BIDDLE.

fluid. My 5-37-60-2-46-25-58 is an acid fluid. My 29-38 is aloft.
My 3-54-31-40-8-51-35 is a lady who entertains guests. My 36-57-
18-44 is to attend. My 66-23-16-67-49 is-the product of a tropical
tree. My 61-6-41 is atmospheric moisture. My 64-39-65-59-7 is a
treatise. My 53-15-4-20 is part of the body. M. WELLS.

i. THE captain had the rebel fastened securely with many chains.
2. Carl is lending his books and toys continually. 3. Jessie has
had a beautiful new portfolio given to her. 4. She gave me the
box for drawing the design so carefully. 5. Come and see my
kitten, Tab, at her breakfast. 6. The clasp is almost broken. 7. The
boy has already walked over ten miles.

I AM composed of twelve letters, and am the first name and the
surname of a general of the Revolutionary War.
My 2-zz-x2 is a boy's nickname. My 3-8-1o is to flee. My 1-9 is
a personal pronoun. My 7-4-6-5 is to appear white. LIZZIE C. C.

A CREATURE of time is my first,
And time itself is my second,
By which the days of one's life
May always be safely reckoned.
My second may nourish my first;
My first may issue my whole;
Animate and inanimate life
I am, and I seek to control.

ALL the words described are of equal length, and the central i. IN Andromeda. 2. The god of herdsmen. 3. The mother of
letters name a national holiday. Perseus. 4. What Pegasus might be called. 5. In Jupiter.
CROSS-WORDS: I. A place for storing corn. 2. A small insect. ALIDA B.
3. To sum up. 4. To fondle. 5. Quick. 6. To annoy. 7. A FOURTH OF JULY MAZE.
conjunction. 8. Bustle.. 9. A black mineral. o. Finish. I. A
dision of a play. 12. ecompense. 3. A lyric poem. 14. To
exclude. 15. Forever. DYCIE.

My first is in surf, but not in wave;
My second in valiant, not in brave.
My third is in powder, but not in cap:
My fourth is in crackle, but not in snap.
My fifth is in rocket, but not in light;
My sixth is in power, but not in might.
My seventh in racket, but not in noise;
My eighth in balance, but not in poise.
My ninth in knapsack, but not in gun;
My tenth in jubilee, not in fun;
My eleventh in banner, but not in flag;
My twelfth, is in steed, but not in nag.
My whole make "music once a year,
Young patriotic hearts to cheer.
My first is in knight, but not in earl;
My second in fold, but not in furl.
My third is in sleep, but not in wake;
My fourth is in give, but not in take.
My fifth is in sand, but not in shore;
My sixth is in heart, but not in core;
My seventh in coy, but not in bold;
My whole is welcome to young and old.

S. T. P.

I AM composed of sixty-nine letters, and am a victorious dispatch,
dated September zo, 1813, which a famous naval officer sent to his
My 43-34-x is an inclination of the body. My 7-45-63-27 is
belonging to me. My 52-28-32-9-48-14 is a plant extensively culti-
vated in warm countries. My 21-50-56-68-26 is purport. My 22-42-
69-12, when deferred, "maketh the heart sick," says Proverbs. My
33-62-30-47-10 can be no worse. My 00-55-x9-r3-24 is a sweet

TRACE a way into this maze, without crossing a line, so as to enter
the five circles, one after another, in the order of their inclosed
numerals (which indicate the present year), reaching at last the
fire-crackers in the center.
LITTLE 6-7-8 was neither a prince of the 6-7-8-9-ro family, nor a
very good boy. One day his grandmother sent him to the store for
a bunch of i-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-oo; but instead of doing as she
bade, he spent the 1-2-3-4-5 she gave him, and bought a rude
x-2-3 for his pet rabbit. M. C. D.





THE answer to the above puzzle is a word of six letters. To solve
the puzzle, first read the pictures as a rebus, ...-,. ,.: I six
lines, each of which begins with a letter T. : i. -1 i.. t it i s an
enigma, the solution of which reveals, in proper order, the six letters
of the answer. G. F.
I. TRANSPOSE a place where grain is stored, and make a sworn
officer of an English forest. 2. Transpose a mournful piece of music,
and make a range of mountains. 3. Transpose an omnibus, and
make the barriers to openings in an inclosing fence. 4. Transpose
a low, dwarf tree, and make the trophy of a fox-chase. 5. Trans-

pose a relishing condiment, and make that which produces a result.
6. Transpose wood sawed for use, and make a low, heavy sound.
7. Transpose the religion of Mohammed, and make bags for the
conveyance of letters and papers. 8. Transpose covered with fine
sand, and make thoughtful attention. 9. Transpose to climb by a
ladder, and make delicate tissues of thread. o1. Transpose a sub-
stance used to give luster to metal or glass, and make a knave. D.

EASY TRANSPOSITIONS, I. Ocean-canoe. 2. Words-sword.
3. Cork-rock. 4. Huts-shut. 5. Manor-Roman. 6. Organ-
groan. 7. Printer-reprint. 8. Mabel-blame.
PI. Spake full well, in language quaint and olden,
One who dwelleth by the castled Rhine,
When he called the flowers, so blue and golden,
Stars that in earth's firmament do shine.
WORD-SQUARES. I. PoPpy. 2. LeAve. 3. PANSY. 4.
RoSes. 5. MaYor. II. z. ViPer. 2. TrAil. 3. PANSY. 4.
EsSay. 5. RhYme. III. i. GyPsy. 2. ClAim. 3. PANSY.
4. EaSel. 5. RoYal. IV. i. MaPle. 2. SnAre. 3. PANSY.
4. MiSty. 5. StYle. V. i. ApPle. 2. StAnd. 3. PANSY. 4.
BiSon. 5. LaYer.
GEOGRAPHICAL PUZZLE. May-Man-George-Rome (roam)-
The Woods-Society-Charles-Henry-Skye (sky)-Clear-Hartz
(hearts)-Chili (chilly)-Morocco-Sandwich-Oyster-Bordeaux-
Martha's Vineyard--Pearl-Ann--Negro-Scilly (silly)-Look-
out-Nantucket (Nan took it).
"A noise like of a hidden brook
In the leafy month of June."
SAMUEL T. COLERIDGE, In The Ancient Mariner, Part V.
DOUBLE ACROSTIC. Initials: Turkey. Finals: Greece. Cross-
words: I. ThonG. 2. UproaR. 3. RenegadE. 4. KitE. 5.
EpiC. 6. YorE.
GERMAN COUSINS. I. Hut. 2. Mutter. 3. Kind. 4. Grab.
5. Den. 6. Herb. 7. Art. 8. Bad. 9. Fern. o1. Tag. x.
War. Is. Gift.--CHARADE. Nosegay.
EASY PICTORIAL ANAGRAM. I. Sloop-loops. 2. Palm-lamp.
3. Anchor-Charon. 4. Sprites-stripes. 5. Spot-post-tops-
DIAMOND. I. 0. 2. ASp. 3. LaTch. 4. OstRich. 5.
Priam. 6. AC 7. H.

THE names of solvers are printed in the second number after that in which the puzzles appear.
SOLUTIONS of April puzzles were received, too late for acknowledgment in the June number, from Lillie Keppelman, Canstatt, 2-
A. M. Gardner, x2.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE MAY NUMBER were received, before May so, from "Jessamine," 2-J. Milton Gitterman, 2-"Blanke
Family," x7-H. A. Vedder, Io-H. Ickelheimer, x-Walter K. Smith, 3-B. and G. Hallam, 2-Alice S. Rhoads, 4-Nellie Slidell, 3-
Lottie Pearsall, 2-Mamie I. Stockwell, 3-A. Mabel Raber, 6-W. W. S. Hoffman, 3-Jane B. Haine, i-May L. Shepard, 5-Willie R.
Witherle, 3-Violet, 3-Alice B. Wilbur, 5-W. P. Measle, 5-E. L. Gould, --Howard Coale, x-Florence Wilcox, y7-Kate T. Wendell,
8-Joseph G. Deane, 4-Hattie Varney, 6-J. H. Ingersoll, 3-T. G. White, 3-Reader, x-Ruth Camp, 7-Frank S. Willock, 4-E. L.
Gould, x-George W. Barnes, 8-Effe K. Talboys, i-Lizzie H. D. St. Vrain, r1-"Peasblossom," i-Camille Giraud, 8-Lizzie
McClannin, I-A. H. Craft, 3-George Brown, 8-Clara L. Northway, io-"Jessie," 15-Daisy Smith, 8-Henry C. Brown, 18-Annie
W. Ingle, 4-Willie F. Harris, s2-Mrs. J. B. and Leon Stevenson, 6-Puss and Bob, 5-Gracie L. Street, 6-V. E. L. H., i4-Maude G.
Fiero, 6-Edward Vultee, 18-Nannie M. Duff, I-Mabel Thompson, 7-John W. Stebbins, --C. A. C., 13-John W. Wroth, 7-Gustav
and Albert Tuska, 5-Kate Reynolds, 6-Bella A., 4-Frank G. Newland, 9-Rose I. Rantan, 8-Blinkenhoff, 6-Paul England, 3-
Nellie Caldwell, 5-Barclay Scovil, 2-Caroline Larrabee, 6-"Professor & Co.," 12-Lalla E. Croft, 3-Bessie and Edith Nesbitt, 4-
Lizzie D. Fyfer, 9-Alice Taylor, 4-W. Eyes, x8-Edith Boyd, 2-"Mignonette," 6-Marion and Daisy, 4-Henry Kerr, a3-Frank R.
Heath, 13-J. Harry Robertson, 4-Buttercup and Daisy, 4-M. H. Huntington and E. K. Francis, zo-J. W. G., 2-Sadie B. Beers, 6-
Marion Booth, 6-X. Y. Z., 8-Minnie Van Buren, 3-Annie C. Holton, 5-Percy Ryan, x-"Wall and Thisbe," x3-Clara and Joe, 15-
Maud E. Benson, --" Mauch Chunk," 15-Puzzler, 2-C. H. Young, 18-Ellen L. Bryan, ni-Lewis P. Robinson, 2-Jeanie and
Edward Smith, 9-J. S. Jenks, x-Rosie A. Palist, 4-"Phyllis," i2-Mabel Wagnalls, 5-" George and Frank," s7-Mary M. Malle-
son, r-Isabel Bingay, so-Alice Allsworth and Eleanor B. Farley, 4-Wisconsin, 8-Lilla and Daisy, 7-Sallie Viles, 6--Irvington, 15-
Ruble and Grace, I3-Clara Mackinney, 7-Frank P. Turner, 17-" North Star" and "Little Lizzie, 9-Lulu M. Hutchins, x3-Maud L.
Smith, 6-I. H. B., 12-G. Dreeme, 5-M. E. Hall, 9-B. C. C., i-Belle and Bertie, 15-J. B. Bourne, 3-B. B. Potrero, xx-Daisy and
Buttercup, 6-Florence, John, Allie, and Clem, 5-"Oakland," i--A. P. Slone, 3-Letitia Preston, 4-P. S. Clarkson, 15-Fred. C.
McDonald, x8-Daisy May, 18-Thomas Denny, Jr., 3-Howard C. Warren, 14-" Queen Bess," 17-Lizzie Nammack, x3-Fred.
Thwaits, 18-Fanny Pellette, 12-" Chuck," x7-" Manuscript," 8-Bettie and Harry Stromenger, 5-Annie Mills and Louie Everett, 18-
Lizzie C. Carnahan, xx-"M'liss," 5-J. Ollie Gayley, 6-Susie Goff, 7-M. M. Libby, 15-Chas. S. Emerson, 5-Katy Flemming, ix-
Male Stevenson, i-George Totten Smith, x-Gracie Hewlett and Lulu Crabbe, 18-Robert A. Gally, so-C. G. Brownell, 16-O. W. and
R. Y. Y., 9-E. M. and R. H. Pomeroy, 9-Alex, 8-From Va., i-Madge K. L., and Frank Smith, 7-Gussie and Julia Larrabee, x5-
P. and I., 8-" Amos Quito," 9-Ed. C. Carshaw, xx-Willie and M. Conant, 13-Belle W. Brown, 12-Florence G. Lane, 8-Herbert
Barry, a8-" Carol and her Sisters," 15-" Trailing Arbutus," 3-Virginie Callmeyer, x2-F. Benedict, i-Willie F. Woolard, 3-Willie
T. Mandeville, 9-Archie and Hugh Burns, 9-Alice Maud Kyte, x8-Florence Leslie Kyte, 18-"So-So," 12-L. and W. McKinney, 13-
Sophie M. Geiske, 7-J. S. Tennant, 13-Harriet L. Pruyn, 3-Carrie and Mary Speiden, r--Ella M. Parker, 5-C. J. and P. Durbrow,
18-Ella Boudy, 3-Harry H. Knowles, 13-Dycie Warden, 13. Numerals denote the number of puzzles solved.



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