Front Cover
 How Burt went whale-hunting
 The lesson of the Briers
 The nightingale
 Mrs. Peterkin in Egypt
 The Punjaubs of Siam
 Hassan's water-melon - A Turkish...
 Sea baby-houses
 The sweet, red rose
 Stories from the northern...
 The song of the swing
 A visit to the home of Sir Walter...
 A balloon story in four chapte...
 The mysterious barrel
 How a hoosier boy saw the Tower...
 A good time on the beach (pict...
 Going to the fair
 The cloister of the seven...
 Summer days at Lake George
 How Joe Bently won a bouquet from...
 Tit for tat
 How far yet?
 Donald and Dorothy
 Neddie and Lillie Melville
 Herbie's gardening
 Fannie and Johnny
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover

Group Title: St. Nicholas.
Title: Saint Nicholas: Volume 9, no. 10. August 1882.
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00118
 Material Information
Title: Saint Nicholas: Volume 9, no. 10. August 1882.
Series Title: St. Nicholas.
Uniform Title: Saint Nicholas: Volume 9, no. 10
Alternate Title: Saint Nicholas
Physical Description: 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Publisher: Scribner,
Publication Date: August 1882
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: VID00118
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
    How Burt went whale-hunting
        Page 749
        Page 750
        Page 751
        Page 752
        Page 753
    The lesson of the Briers
        Page 754
    The nightingale
        Page 755
    Mrs. Peterkin in Egypt
        Page 756
        Page 757
        Page 758
        Page 759
        Page 760
    The Punjaubs of Siam
        Page 761
        Page 762
    Hassan's water-melon - A Turkish story
        Page 763
    Sea baby-houses
        Page 764
        Page 765
    The sweet, red rose
        Page 766
    Stories from the northern myths
        Page 766
        Page 767
        Page 768
        Page 769
        Page 770
        Page 771
    The song of the swing
        Page 772
        Page 773
    A visit to the home of Sir Walter Scott
        Page 774
        Page 775
        Page 776
        Page 777
        Page 778
        Page 779
    A balloon story in four chapters
        Page 780
    The mysterious barrel
        Page 781
        Page 782
        Page 783
    How a hoosier boy saw the Tower of Pisa
        Page 784
        Page 785
        Page 786
    A good time on the beach (picture)
        Page 787
    Going to the fair
        Page 788
    The cloister of the seven gates
        Page 789
        Page 790
        Page 791
        Page 792
        Page 793
    Summer days at Lake George
        Page 794
        Page 795
        Page 796
        Page 797
        Page 798
        Page 799
        Page 800
        Page 801
        Page 802
        Page 803
    How Joe Bently won a bouquet from the Queen of Portugal
        Page 805
        Page 806
        Page 807
    Tit for tat
        Page 804
    How far yet?
        Page 808
        Page 809
    Donald and Dorothy
        Page 810
        Page 811
        Page 812
        Page 813
        Page 814
        Page 815
        Page 816
        Page 817
        Page 818
        Page 819
    Neddie and Lillie Melville
        Page 820
    Herbie's gardening
        Page 821
    Fannie and Johnny
        Page 822
    The letter-box
        Page 823
        Page 824
    The riddle-box
        Page 825
        Page 826
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text


a =.-
v tZ

M-.--R- -Y. A L E GE R



-- K



AUGUST, 1882.

[Copyright, 1882, by THE CENTURY CO.]



BURT HOLTER and his sister Hilda were sitting
on the beach, playing with large twisted cockles
which they imagined were cows and horses. They
built stables out of chips, and fenced in their pas-
tures, and led their cattle in long rows through the
deep grooves they had made in the sand.
"When I grow up to be a man," said Burt, who
was twelve years old, "I am going to sea and
catch whales as father did when he was young. I
don't want to stand behind a counter and sell calico
and tape and coffee and sugar," he continued,
thrusting his chest forward, putting his hands into
his pockets, and marching with a manly swagger
across the beach. "I don't want to play with
cockles, like a baby any more," he added, giving
a forcible kick to one of Hilda's finest shells and
sending it flying across the sand.
"I wish you would n't be so naughty, Burt,"
cried his sister, with tears in her eyes. If you
don't want to play with me, I can play alone.
Burt, oh-look there! "
Just at that moment, a dozen or more columns of
water flew high into the air, and the same number
of large, black tail-fins emerged from the surface of
the fjord, and again slowly vanished. "Hurrah! "
cried Burt in great glee, "it is a shoal of dol-
phins. Good-bye, Hilda dear, I think I '11 run
down to the boat-house."
"I think I '11 go with you, Burt," said his sis-
ter obligingly, rising and shaking the sand from
her skirts.
"I think you'll not," remarked her brother,
angrily, "I can run faster than you."

So saying, he rushed away over the crisp sand
as fast as his feet would carry him, while his sister
Hilda, who was rather a soft-hearted girl, and ready
with her tears, ran after him, all out of breath and
calling to him at the top of her voice. Finally, when
she was more than half way to the boat-house, she
stumbled against a stone and fell full length upon
the beach. Burt, fearing that she might be hurt,
paused in his flight and returned to pick her up,
but could not refrain from giving her a vindictive
little shake as soon as he discovered that she had
sustained no injury.
I do think girls are the greatest bother that
ever was invented," he said in high dudgeon. I
don't see what they are good for, anyway."
"I want to go with you, Burt," cried Hilda.
Seeing there was no escape, he thought he
might just as well be kind to her.
You may go," he said, if you will promise
never to tell anybody what I am going to do? "
No, Burt, I shall never tell," said the child
eagerly, and drying her tears.
"I am going whale-hunting," whispered Burt
mysteriously. "Come along."
Whale-hunting echoed the girl in delicious
excitement. "Dear Burtie, how good you are!
Oh, how lovely No, I shall never tell it to any-
body as long as I live."
It was late in the afternoon, and the sun, which
at that time of the year never sets in the northern
part of Norway, threw its red, misty rays like a
veil of dull flame over the lofty mountains which,
with their snow-hooded peaks pierced the fiery


No. 1o.



clouds; their huge reflections shone in soft tints of
red, green and gray in the depths of the fjord,
whose glittering surface was calm and smooth as a
mirror. Only in the bay which the school of dol-
phins had entered was the water ruffled; but there,
high spouts rose every moment into the air and
descended again in showers of fine spray.
"It is well that father has gone away with the
fishermen," said Burt, as he exerted himself with
all his might to push his small boat down over the
slippery beams of the boat-house. Here, Hilda,
hold my harpoon for me."
Hilda, greatly impressed with her own dignity
in being allowed to hold so dangerous a weapon as
a harpoon, grasped it eagerly and held it up in
both her arms. Burt once more put his shoulder
to the stern of his light skiff (which, in honor of his
father's whaling voyages, he had named "The
North Pole,") and with a tremendous effort set it
afloat. Then he carefully assisted Hilda into the
boat, in the stern of which she seated herself.
Next, he seized the oars and rowed gently out be-
yond the rocky headland toward which he had
seen the dolphins steer their course. He was an

Now remember, and push the tiller to the side
opposite where I want to go."
"I '11 remember," she replied, breathlessly.
The gentle plashing of the oars and the click-
ing of the rowlocks were the only sounds which
broke the silence of the evening. Now and then
a solitary gull gave a long, shrill scream as she
dived beneath the surface of the fjord, and once
a fish-hawk's loud, discordant yell was flung by
the echoes from mountain to mountain.
"Starboard," commanded Burt, sternly; but
Hilda in her agitation pushed the tiller to the
wrong side and sent the boat flying to port.
Starboard, I said," cried the boy indignantly;
"if I had known you would be so stupid, I should
never have taken you along."
Please, Burtie dear, do be patient with me,"
pleaded the girl remorsefully. I shall not do so
It then pleased his majesty, Burt Holter, to
relent, although his sister had by her awkwardness
alarmed the dolphins, sending the boat right in
their wake, when it had been his purpose to head
them off. He knew well enough that it takes sev-


excellent sailor for his years, and could manage a
boat noiselessly and well.
Hilda, take the helm," he whispered, or, if
you were only good for any thing, you might pad-
dle and we should be upon them in a minute.

eral minutes for a whole school of so large a fish
as the dolphin to change its course, and the
hunter would thus have a good chance of "prick-
ing" a laggard before he could catch up with his
companions. Burt strained every muscle, while




coolly keeping his eye on the water to note the
course of his game. His only chance was in cut-
ting across the bay and lying in wait for them at
the next headland. For he knew very well that
if they were seriously frightened and suspected
that they were being pursued, they could easily
beat him by the speed and dexterity of their move-
ments. But he saw to his delight that his calcula-
tions were correct. Instead of taking the straight
course seaward, the dolphins, being probably in
pursuit of fresh herring, young cod and other
marine delicacies which they needed for their late
dinner, steered close to land where the young fish
are found in greater abundance, and their follow-
ing the coast-line of the bay gave Burt a chance
of cutting them off and making their acquaint-
ance at closer quarters. Having crossed the little
bay, he commanded his sister to lie down flat in
the bottom of the boat-a command which she
willingly, though with a quaking heart, obeyed.
He backed cautiously into a little nook among the
rocks-from which he had a clear passage out, and

having one hand on his harpoon, which was se-
cured by a rope to the prow of the boat, and the
other on the boat-hook (with which he meant to
push himself rapidly out into the midst of the
school), he peered joyously over the gunwale and
heard the loud snorts, followed by the hissing de-
scent of the spray, approaching nearer and nearer.
Now, steady, my boy Don't lose your presence
of mind One, two, three-there goes! Jump-
ing up, fixing the boat-hook against the rock, and
with a tremendous push shooting out into the midst
of the school was but a moment's work. Whew !
The water spouts and whirls about his ears as in
a shower-bath. Off goes his cap. Let it go! But
stop What was that ? A terrific slap against the
side of the boat as from the tail of a huge fish.
Hilda jumps up with a piercing shriek and the
boat careens heavily to the port side, the gunwale
dipping for a moment under the water. A loud
snort, followed again by a shower of spray, is heard
right ahead, and, at the same moment, the har-
poon flies through the air with a fierce whiz and


------ -- -- -----_ --:- S --_
- --_-
f7:-- --' '. -.-------__- _: :-------:_: -:-


- __r_



lodges firmly in a broad, black back. The huge
fish in its first spasm of pain gives a fling with its
tail and for an instant the little boat is lifted out
of the water on the back of the wounded dolphin.
"Keep steady, don't let go the rope !" shouts
Burt at the top of his voice, "he wont hurt --"
But before he had finished, the light skiff, with a
tremendous splash, struck the water again, and the
little coil of rope to which the harpoon was attached
flew humming over the gunwale and disappeared
with astonishing speed into the depth.
Burt seized the cord, and when there was little

knowing that, however swiftly he swam, he pulled
his enemy after him. As he rose to the surface,
about fifty or sixty yards ahead, a small column of
water shot feebly upward, and spread in a fan-like,
irregular shape before it fell. The poor dolphin
floundered along for a few seconds, its long black
body in full view, and then again dived down,
dragging the boat onward with a series of quick,
convulsive pulls.
Burt held on tightly to the cord, while the
water foamed and bubbled about the prow and
surged in swirling eddies in the wake of the skiff.

-L.. .-.. .:.. . --


left to spare, tied it firmly to the prow of the boat,
which then, of course, leaped forward with every
effort of the dolphin to rid itself of the harpoon.
The rest of the school, having taken alarm, had
sought deep water, and were seen, after a few
minutes, far out beyond the headland.
"I want to go home, Burt," Hilda exclaimed,
vehemently. I want to go home; I don't want
to get killed, Burt."
"You silly thing! You can't go home now.
You must just do as I tell you; but, of course-if
you only are sensible-you won't get killed, or
hurt at all."
While he was yet speaking, on a sudden the boat
began to move rapidly over the water.
The dolphin had bethought him of flight, not

"If I can only manage to get that dolphin,"
said Burt, I know father will give me at least a
dollar for him. There 's lots of blubber on him,
and that is used for oil to burn in lamps."
The little girl did not answer, but grasped the
gunwale hard on each side, and gazed anxiously
at the foaming and bubbling water. Burt, too, sat
silent in the prow, but with a fisherman's excite-
ment in his face. The sun hung, huge and fiery,
over the western mountains, and sent up a great,
dusky glare among the clouds, which burned in
intense but lurid hues of red and gold. Gradually,
and before they were fully aware of it, the boat
began to rise and sink again, and Burt discovered
by the heavy, even roll of the water that they must
be near the ocean.




"Now you may stop, my dear dolphin," he said,
coolly. "We don't want you to take us across to
America. Who would have thought that he was
such a tough customer anyway ?"
He let go the rope, and seating himself, again
put the oars into the rowlocks. He tried to arrest
the speed of the boat by vigorous backing; but, to
his surprise, found that his efforts were of no avail.
"Hilda," he cried, not betraying, however, the
anxiety he was beginning to feel, "take the other
pair of oars and let us see what you are good for."
Hilda, not realizing her danger, obeyed, a little
tremblingly perhaps, and put the other pair of oars
into their places.
"Now let us turn the boat around," sternly com-
manded the boy. "It's getting late, and we must be
home before bed-time. One-two-three-pull!"
The oars struck the water simultaneously and
the boat veered half way around; but the instant
the oars were lifted again, it started back into its
former course.
Why don't you cut the rope and let the
dolphin go?" asked Hilda, striving hard to master
the tears, which again were pressing to her eyelids.
Not I," answered her brother; why, all the
fellows would laugh at me if they heard how I first
caught the dolphin and then the dolphin caught me.
No, indeed. He has n't much strength left by this
time, and we shall soon see him float up."
He had hardly uttered these words, when -h...
shot past a rocky promontory, and the vast ocean
spread out before them. Both sister and brother
gave an involuntary cry of terror. There they
were, in their frail little skiff, far away from home,
and with no boat visible for miles around. Cut
the rope, cut the rope! Dear Burt, cut the rope "
screamed Hilda, wringing her hands in despair.
"I am afraid it is too late," answered her brother,
doggedly. "The tide is going out, and that is
what has carried us so swiftly to sea. I was a fool
that I did n't think of it."
"But what shall we do-what shall we do!"
moaned the girl, hiding her face in her apron.
Stop that crying," demanded her brother, im-
periously. I '11 tell you what we shall have to do.
We could n't manage to pull back against the tide,
especially here at the mouth of the fjord, where the
current is so strong. We had better keep on sea-
ward, and then, if we are in luck,'we shall meet
the fishing-boats when they return, which will be
before morning. Anyway, there is little or no
wind, and the night is light enough, so that they
can not miss seeing us."
Oh, I shall surely die, I shall surely die !" sobbed
Hilda, flinging herself down in the bottom of the boat.
Burt deigned her no answer, but sat gazing sul-
lenly out over the ocean toward the western horizon,

over which the low sun shed its lurid mist of fire.
The ocean broke with a mighty roar against the
rocks, then hushed itself for a few seconds, and then
hurled itself against the rocks anew. To be frank,
he was not quite so fearless as he looked ; but he
thought it cowardly to give expression to his fear,
and especially in the presence of his sister, in whose
estimation he had ever been a hero. The sun sank
lower until it almost touched the water. The rope
hung perfectly loose from the prow, and only now
and then grew tense as if something was feebly
tugging at it at the other end. He concluded that
the dolphin had bled to death or was exhausted.
In the meanwhile, they were drifting rapidly west-
ward, and the hollow noise of the breakers was
growing more and more distant. Froin a merely
idle impulse of curiosity Burt began to haul in his
rope, and presently saw a black body, some eight or
nine feet long, floating up only a few rods from the
boat. He gave four or five pulls at the rope and
was soon alongside of it. Burt felt very sad as he
looked at it, and was sorry he had killed the harm-
less animal. The thought came into his mind
that his present desperate situation was God's pun-
ishment on him for his cruel delight in killing.
"But God would not punish my sister for my
wickedness," he reflected, gazing tenderly at Hilda,
who lay in the boat with her hands folded under
her cheek, having sobbed herself to sleep. He
felt consoled, and murmuring a prayer he had once
heard in church for sailors in distress at sea,"
lay down at his sister's side and stared up into
the vast, red dome of the sky above him. The
water plashed gently against the sides of the skiff
as it rose and rocked upon the great smooth
" ground swell," and again sank down, as it seemed
into infinite depths, only to climb again the next
billow. Burt felt sleepy and hungry, and the more
he stared into the sky the more indistinct became
his vision. He sprang up, determined to make
one last, desperate effort, and strove to row in
toward land, but he could make no headway
against the strong tide, and with aching limbs and
a heavy heart he again stretched himself out in
the bottom of the boat. Before he knew it he was
fast asleep.
He did not know how long he had slept, but the
dim, fiery look of the sun had changed into an airy
rose color, when he felt some one seizing him by
the arm and crying out: In the name of wonders,
boy, how did you come here ?"
He rubbed his eyes and saw his father's shaggy
face close to his.
"And my dear little girl too," cried the father,
in a voice of terror. "Heaven be praised for
having preserved her."
And he lifted Hilda in his arms and pressed her




close to his breast. Burt thought he saw tears
glistening in his eyes. That made him suddenly
very solemn. For he had never seen his father
cry before. Around about him was a fleet of some
thirty or forty boats laden to the gunwale with
herring. He now understood his rescue.
"Now tell me, Burt, truthfully," said his father,
gravely, still holding the sobbing Hilda tightly in
his embrace, how did this happen ?"
"I went a-whaling," stammered Burt, feeling
not at all- so brave as he had felt when he started

on his voyage. But he still had courage enough
to point feebly to the dead dolphin which lay
secured a short distance from the skiff.
The father gazed in amazement at the huge fish,
then again at his son, as if comparing their bulk.
He felt. that he ought to scold the youthful whaler,
but he was more inclined to praise his daring spirit.
"Burt," he said, patting the boy's curly head,
"you may be a brave, laddie; but next time your
bravery gets the better of you,-leave the lassie at



CHARLEY Charley!" called Ella to her
younger brother; don't go among those briers;
come over here in the garden "
Ho! stay in the garden who wants to stay in
the garden ?" answered master Charley with great
contempt. "I guess you think I'm a girl to want
to play where it 's all smooth and everything.
Ho! "
That 's not it, Charley, but you know we both
have on our good clothes, and we must be ready to
run quick when we hear the carriage drive up to
the gate with Aunt May and Cousin Harry and
"I know that as well as you do," said Charley,
pushing his way through the hedge as he spoke.
" Girls are n't good for any thing but to sit and
sew. I mean to have some fun. I mean to cl-- "
Ella felt like giving some angry answer, but she
checked herself, and went on with her sewing as she
sat under the big tree, wondering what made
Charley break off his sentence so suddenly.
El-la, El-la!" cried a pitiful voice at last,
come help me I 'm getting all torn. O-oh!"
Sure enough, Charley was getting all torn;
some big thorns had caught his new trousers, and
the harder he struggled the worse matters became.
Hold still, dear," said Ella, I can't help you
while you kick so. There now you 're free. Oh!
Charley !"
Charley, clapping his hand to his trousers, knew
well enough what Ella's "Oh !" meant. It meant a
great big tear in his new clothes, two cousins com-
ing to spend the day, and a poor little boy sobbing

in the nursery until the nurse would stop scolding
and make him fit to go down and see the com-
pany.. The very thought of all this misery made
him cry.
"Oh! they'll be here in a minute boo-hoo! "
he sobbed; what shall I do ?."
"Why, stand still, that's all," said Ella, hastily
threading her needle with a long black thread;
"stand just so, dear, till I mend it."
"Mend it!" cried master Charles delighted.
"Oh Ella! Willyou?"
Certainly I will," she answered very gently,
at the same time beginning to draw the edges of
the tear together; "you know girls are not good
.for'any thing but to sit and-sew."
"0 Ella! I didn't say that."
I think you did, Charley."
"Not exactly that, I guess. It was awful mean,
if I did. Oh! hurry; I hear the carriage."
Do be quiet, you little wriggler laughed his
sister, hastily finishing the work as well as she
could, so that Charley in a moment looked quite
fine again. There we'll get to the gate before
they turn into the lane, after all."
Charley held Ella's hand more tightly than
usual as they ran toward the gate together. Ella
noticed it, and stopped to kiss him.
I'm sorry I spoke so," he panted, kissing her
again right heartily. Does it show? "
"Not a bit; you would n't know any thing had
happened. Hurrah here they are! "
"Hurrah! Howdy do, everybody! shouted






\ IV.
Then breaks the silence a heavenly strain,
And thrills the quiet night
With a rich and wonderful refrain,
A rapture of delight.

S All listeners that rare music hail,
All whisper softly: "Hark!
It is the matchless nightingale
Sweet-singing in the dark."

THERE is a bird, a plain, brown bird,
That dwells in lands afar,
Whose wild, delicious song is heard
With evening's first white star.

When, dewy-fresh and still, the night
Steals to the waiting world,
And the new moon glitters silver bright,
And the fluttering winds are furled;

When the balm of summer is in the air,
And the deep rose breathes of musk,
And there comes a waft of blossoms fair
Through the enchanted dusk;

He has no pride of feathers fine;
Unconscious, too, is he,
That welcomed as a thing divine
Is his clear minstrelsy.

But from the fullness of his heart
His happy carol pours;
Beyond all praise, above all art,
His song to heaven soars.

And through the whole wide world his fame
Is sounded far and near;
Men love to speak his very name;
That brown bird is so dear.




A LADY who lived by the shore,
In time grew so used to its roar,
That she never could sleep
Unless some one would keep
A-pounding away at the door.



THE family had taken passage in the new line
for Bordeaux. They supposed they had; but would
they ever reach the vessel in New York? The last
moments were terrific. In spite of all their careful
arrangements, their planning and packing of the
last year, it seemed, after all, as if everything were
left for the very last day. There were presents for
the family to be packed, six steamer-bags for Mrs.
Peterkin, half a dozen sachels of salts-bottles for
Elizabeth Eliza, Apollinaris water, lunch-baskets.
All these must be disposed of.
On the very last day, Elizabeth Eliza went into
Boston to buy a bird, as she had been told she
would be less likely to be sea-sick if she had a bird
in a cage in her state-room. Both she hnd her
mother disliked the singing of caged birds, espe-
cially of canaries, but Mrs. Peterkin argued that

they would be less likely to be homesick, as they
never had birds at home. After long moments of
indecision, Elizabeth Eliza determined upon two
canary birds, thinking she might let them fly as
they approached the shore of Portugal, and they
would then reach their native islands. This matter
detained her till the latest train, so that on her return
from Boston to their quiet suburban home, she
found the whole family assembled in the station,
ready to take the through express train to New
She did not have time, therefore, to go back to
the house for her own things. It was now locked
up and the key intrusted to the Bromwicks; and
all the Bromwicks and the rest of the neighbors
were at the station, ready to bid them good-bye.
The family had done their best to collect all her





scattered bits of baggage, but all through her
travels, afterward, she was continually missing
something she had left behind, that she would
have packed, and had intended to bring.
They reached New York with half a day on
their hands, and, during this time, Agamemnon
fell in with some old college friends, who were
going with a party to Greece to look up the new
excavations. They were to leave, the next day, in
a steamer for Gibraltar. Agamemnon felt that
here was the place for him, and hastened to con-
sult his family. Perhaps he could persuade them
to change their plans and take passage with the
party for Gibraltar. But he reached the pier just
as the steamer for Bordeaux was leaving the shore.
He was too late, and was left behind! Too late to
consult them, too late even to join them! He
examined his map, however,-one of his latest pur-
chases, which he carried in his pocket,- and con-
soled himself with the fact that on reaching
Gibraltar he could soon communicate with his
family at Bordeaux, and he was easily reconciled to
his fate.
It was not till the family landed at Bordeaux
that they discovered the absence of Agamemnon.
Every day, there had been some of the family unable
to come on deck,-sea-sick below; Mrs. Peterkin
never left her berth, and constantly sent messages
to the others to follow her example, as she was
afraid some one of them would be lost overboard.
Those who were on deck from time to time were
always different ones, and the passage was remark-
ably quick, while, from the tossing of the ship, as
they met rough weather, they were all too misera-
ble to compare notes, or count their numbers.
Elizabeth Eliza, especially, had been exhausted by
the voyage. She had not been many days sea-
sick, but the incessant singing of the birds had de-
prived her of sleep. Then the necessity of talking
French had been a great tax upon her. The
other passengers were mostly French, and the rest
of the family constantly appealed to her to interpret
their wants, and explain them to the garcon, once
every day at dinner. She felt as if she never wished
to speak another word in French, and the necessity
of being interpreter at the hotel at Bordeaux, on
their arrival, seemed almost too much for her. She
had even forgotten to let her canary birds fly, when
off shore in the Bay of Biscay, and they were still
with her, singing incessantly, as if they were rejoic-
ing over an approach to their native shores. She
thought now she must keep them till their return,
which they were already planning.
The little boys, indeed, would like to have gone
back on the return trip of the steamer. A son of the
steward told them that the return cargo consisted
of dried fruits and raisins; that every state-room,

except those occupied with passengers, would be
filled with boxes of raisins and jars of grapes; that
these often broke open in the passage, giving a great
opportunity for boys.
But the family held to their Egypt plan, and
were cheered by making the acquaintance of an
English party. At the table d'h6te, Elizabeth Eliza
by chance dropped her fork into her neighbor's lap.
She apologized in French, her neighbor answered
in the same language, which Elizabeth Eliza under-
stood so well that she concluded she had at last met
with a true Parisian, and ventured on more conver-
sation, when, suddenly, they both found they were
talking in English, and Elizabeth Eliza exclaimed:
"I am so glad to meet an American," at the mo-
ment that her companion was saying, "Then you
are an Englishwoman "
From this moment, Elizabeth Eliza was at ease,
and indeed both parties were mutually pleased.
Elizabeth Eliza's new friend was one of a large party,
and she was delighted to find that they, too, were
planning a winter in Egypt. They were waiting
till a friend should have completed her "cure" at
Pau, and the Peterkins were glad also to wait for
the appearance of Agamemnon, who might arrive
in the next steamer.
One of the little boys was sure he had heard Aga-
memnon's voice the morning after they left New
York, and was certain he must have been on board
the vessel. Mr. Peterkin was not so sure. He now
remembered that Agamemnon had not been at the
dinner table the very first evening. But then neither
Mrs. Peterkin nor Solomon John were able to be
present, as the vessel was tossing in a most uncom-
fortable manner, and nothing but dinner could have
kept the little boys at table. Solomon John knew
that Agamemnon had not been in his own state-room
during the passage, but he himself had seldom left
it, and it had been always planned that Agamem-
non should share that of a fellow-passenger.
However this might be, it would be best to leave
Marseilles with the English party by the "P. & O."
steamer. This was one of the English "Penin-
sular and Oriental" line, that left Marseilles for
Alexandria, Egypt, and made a return trip directly
to Southampton, England. Mr. Peterkin thought
it might be advisable to take "go and return"
tickets, coming back to Southampton, and Mrs.
Peterkin liked the idea of no change of baggage,
though she dreaded the longer voyage. Eliza-
beth Eliza approved of this return trip in the
P. & 0. steamer, and decided it would give a
good opportunity to dispose of her canary-birds
on her return.
The family therefore consoled themselves at Mar-
seilles with the belief that Agamemnon would ap-
pear somehow. If not, Mr. Peterkin thought he




could telegraph him from Marseilles, if he only
knew where to telegraph to. But at Marseilles
there was great confusion at the H6tel de Noailles,
for the English party met other friends, who per-
suaded them to take route together by Brindisi.
Elizabeth Eliza was anxious to continue with her
new English friend, and Solomon John was de-
lighted with the idea of passing through the whole
length of Italy. But the sight of the long journey,
as she saw it on the map in the guide-book, terri-
fied Mrs. Peterkin. And Mr. Peterkin had taken
their tickets for the Marseilles line. Elizabeth Eliza
still dwelt upon the charm of crossing under the
Alps, while this very idea alarmed Mrs. Peterkin.
On the last morning, the matter was still unde-
cided. On leaving the hotel, it was necessary for
the party to divide, add take two omnibuses. Mr.
and Mrs. Peterkin reached the steamer at the
moment of departure, and suddenly Mrs. Peter-
kin found they were leaving the shore. As they
crossed the broad gangway to reach the deck,
she had not noticed they had left the pier, indeed
she had supposed that the steamer was one she saw
out in the offing, and that they would be obliged to
take a boat to reach it. She hurried from the
group of travelers whom she had followed, to find
Mr. Peterkin reading from his guide-book to the
little boys an explanation that they were passing
the "Chateau d'If," from which the celebrated his-
torical character, the Count of Monte Cristo, had
escaped by flinging himself into the sea.
"Where is Elizabeth Eliza? Where is Solomon
John?" Mrs. Peterkin exclaimed, seizing Mr. Peter-
kin's arm. Where indeed? There was a pile of
the hand baggage of the family, but not that of
Elizabeth Eliza, not even the bird-cage. "It was
on the top of the other omnibus," exclaimed Mrs.
Peterkin. Yes, one of the little boys had seen it
on the pavement of the court-yard of the hotel,
and had carried it to the omnibus in which Eliza-
beth Eliza was sitting. He had seen her through
the window.
"Where is that other omnibus?" exclaimed
Mrs. Peterkin, looking vaguely over the deck, as
they were fast retreating from the shore. "Ask
somebody what became of that other omnibus!"
she exclaimed. "Perhaps they have gone with
the English people," suggested Mr. Peterkin, but
he went to the officers of the boat, and attempted
to explain in French that one-half of his family had
been left behind. He was relieved to find that
the officers could understand his French, though
they did not talk English. They declared, how-
ever, it was utterly impossible to turn back. They
were already two minutes and a half behind time,
on account of waiting for a party who had been
very long in crossing the gangway.

Mr. Peterkin returned gloomily with the little
boys to Mrs. Peterkin. "We can not go back,"
he said, "we must content ourselves with going
on, but I conclude we can telegraph from Malta.
We can send a message to Elizabeth Eliza and
Solomon John, telling them that they can take the
next Marseilles P. & O. steamer in ten days, or
that they can go back to Southampton for the next
boat, which leaves at the end of this week. And
Elizabeth Eliza may decide upon this," Mr. Peter-
kin concluded, on account of passing so near the
Canary Isles."
She will be glad to be rid of the birds," said
Mrs. Peterkin, calming herself.
These anxieties, however, were swallowed up in
new trials. Mrs. Peterkin found that she must share
her cabin (she found it was called "cabin," and
not "state-room," which bothered her and made
her feel like Robinson Crusoe)--her cabin she must
share with some strange ladies, while Mr. Peterkin
and the little boys were carried to another part of
the ship. Mrs. Peterkin remonstrated, delighted
to find that her English was understood though it
was not listened to. It was explained to her that
every family was divided in this way, and that she
would meet Mr. Peterkin and the little boys at
meal times in the large salon, on which all the
cabins opened, and on deck, and she was obliged
to content herself with this. Whenever they met
their time was spent in concocting a form of tele-
gram to send from Malta. It would be difficult to
bring it into the required number of words, as it
would be necessary to suggest three different plans
to Elizabeth Eliza and Solomon John. Besides the
two they had already discussed, there was to be
considered the possibility of their having joined the
English party. But Mrs. Peterkin was sure they
must have gone back first to the H6tel de Noailles,
to which they could address their telegram.
She found, meanwhile, the ladies in her cabin
very kind and agreeable. They were mothers,
returning to India, who had been home to Eng-
land to leave their children, as they were afraid to
expose them longer to the climate of India. Mrs.
Peterkin could have sympathetic talks with them
over their family photographs. Mrs. Peterkin's
family book was, alas, in Elizabeth Eliza's hand-
bag. It contained the family photographs, from
early childhood upward, and was a large volume,
representing the children at every age.
At Malta, as he supposed, Mr. Peterkin and the
little boys landed, in order to send their telegram.
Indeed all of the gentlemen among the passengers,
and some of the ladies, gladly went on shore to visit
the points of interest that could be seen in the time
allotted. The steamer was to take in coal, and
would not leave till early the next morning.




Mrs. Peterkin did not accompany them. She
still had her fears about leaving the ship and
returning to it, although it had been so quietly
accomplished at Marseilles.
The party returned late at night, after Mrs.
Peterkin had gone to her cabin. The next morn-
ing, she found the ship was in motion, but she
did not find Mr. Peterkin and the little boys
at the breakfast table as usual. She was told that
the party who went on shore had all been to
the opera and had returned at a late hour to the
steamer, and would naturally be late at breakfast.
Mrs. Peterkin went on deck to await them, and
look for Malta as it seemed to retreat in the dis-
tance. But the day passed on and neither Mr.
Peterkin, nor either of the little boys appeared!
She tried to calm herself with the thought that they
must need sleep, but all the rest of the passengers
appeared, relating their different adventures. At
last, she sent the steward to inquire for them.
He came back with one of the officers of the
boat, much disturbed, to say that they could
not be found, they must have been left behind.
There was great excitement, and deep interest
expressed for Mrs. Peterkin. One of the officers
was very surly, and declared he could not be
responsible for the inanity of passengers. Another
was more courteous. Mrs. Peterkin asked if they
could not go back; if, at least, she could not be
put back. He explained how this would be impos-
sible, but that the company would telegraph when
they reached Alexandria.
Mrs. Peterkin calmed herself as well as she
could, though indeed she was bewildered by her
position. She was to land in Alexandria alone,
and the landing she was told would be especially
difficult. The steamer would not be able to ap-
proach the shore, the passengers would go down
the sides of the ship, and be lifted off the steps, by
Arabs, into a Felucca (whatever that was) below.
She shuddered at the prospect. It was darker than
her gloomiest fancies had pictured. Would it not
be better to remain in the ship; go back to South-
ampton; perhaps meet Elizabeth Eliza there; pick-
ing up Mr. Peterkin, at Malta, on the way? But at
this moment she discovered that she was not on a
"P. & O." steamer-it was a French steamer of the
"Messagerie line; they had stopped at Messina,
and not at Malta. She could not go back to South-
ampton, so she was told by an English colonel on
his way to India. He, indeed, was very cour-
teous, and advised her to go to an hotel" at
Alexandria with some of the ladies, and send her
telegrams from there. To whom, however, would
she wish to send a telegram ?
"Who is Mr. Peterkin's banker?" asked the
colonel. Alas, Mrs. Peterkin did not know. He

had at first selected a banker in London, but had
afterward changed his mind and talked of a
banker in Paris, and she was not sure what was
his final decision. She had known the name of
the London banker, but had forgotten it; because
she had written it down, and she never did remem-
ber the things she wrote down in her book. That
was her old memorandum-book, and she had left
it at home, because she had brought a new one
for her travels. She was sorry now she had
not kept the old book. This, however, was not of
so much importance, as it did not contain the
name of the Paris banker, and this she had never
heard. Elizabeth Eliza would know; but how
could she reach Elizabeth Eliza ?
Some one asked if there were not some friend in
America to whom she could appeal, if she did not
object to using the ocean telegraph.
There is a friend in America," said Mrs. Peter-
kin, to whom we all of us do go for advice, and
who always does help us. She lives in Philadel-
"Why not telegraph to her for advice? asked
her friends.
Mrs. Peterkin gladly agreed that it would be the
best plan. The expense of the cablegram would
be nothing in comparison with the assistance the
answer would bring.
Her new friends then invited her to accompany
them to their hotel in Alexandria, from which she

could send her dispatch. The thought of thus be-
ing able to reach her hand across the sea, to the lady
from Philadelphia, gave Mrs. Peterkin fresh cour-
age,- courage even to make the landing. As she
descended the side of the ship and was guided down
the steps, she closed her eyes, that she might not see
herself lifted into the many-oared boat by the wild-
looking Arabs, of whom she had caught a glimpse
from above. But she could not close her ears,
and as they approached the shore, strange sounds
almost deafened her. She closed her eyes again,
as she was lifted from the boat, and heard the wild
yells and shrieks around her. There was a clash-
ing of brass, a jingling of bells, and the screams
grew more and more terrific. If she did open her
eyes, she saw wild figures gesticulating, dark faces,
gay costumes, crowds of men and boys, donkeys,
horses, even camels in the distance. She closed
her eyes once more as she was again lifted. Should
she now find herself on the back of one of those
high camels ? Perhaps for this she came to Egypt.
But when she looked round again, she found she
was leaning back in a comfortable open carriage,
with a bottle of salts at her nose. She was in the
midst of a strange whirl of excitement; but all
the party were bewildered, and she had scarcely re-
covered her composure when they reached the hotel.




Here, a comfortable meal and rest somewhat re-
stored them. By the next day, a messenger from
the boat brought her the return telegram from
Messina. Mr. Peterkin and family, left behind
by the "Messagerie" steamer, had embarked the
next day by steamer, probably for Naples.
More anxious than ever was Mrs. Peterkin to
send her dispatch. It was too late the day of their
arrival, but at an early hour next day it was sent,
and after a day had elapsed, the answer came :
All meet at The Sphinx."

Everything now seemed plain. The words were
few, but clear. Her English friends were going
directly to Cairo, and she accompanied them.
After reaching Cairo, the whole party were
obliged to rest a while. They would indeed go with
Mrs. Peterkin on her first visit to the Sphinx; as to
see the Sphinx and ascend the Pyramid formed part
of their programme. But many delays occurred
to detain them, and Mrs. Peterkin had resolved to
carry out completely the advice of the telegram.
She would sit every day before the Sphinx. She
found, that, as yet, there was no hotel exactly in
front of the Sphinx, nor indeed on that side of the
river, and she would be obliged to make the excur-
sion of nine miles there and nine miles back, each
day. But there would always be a party of travel-
ers whom -she could accompany. Each day, she
grew more and more accustomed to the bewildering
sights and sounds about her, and more and more
willing to intrust herself to the dark-colored guides.
At last, chafing at so many delays, she decided to.
make the expedition without her new friends. She
had made 'some. experiments in riding upon a don-
key, and found she was seldom thrown, and could
not be hurt by the slight fall.
And so, one day, Mrs. Peterkin sat alone in front
of the Sphinx,-alone, as far as her own. family and
friends were concerned, and yet not alone indeed.
A large crowd of guides sat around this strange
lady who proposed to spend the day in front of the
Sphinx. Clad in long white robes, and white tur-
bans crowning their dark faces, they gazed into her

eyes with something of the questioning expression
with which she herself was looking into the eyes of
the Sphinx.
There were other travelers wandering about.
Just now, her own party had collected to eat their
lunch together, but they were scattered again, and
she sat with a circle of Arabs about her, the watch-
ful dragoman lingering near.
Somehow, the Eastern languor must have stolen
upon her, or she could not have sat so calmly, not
knowing where a single member of her family was
at that moment. And she had dreaded Egypt so;
had feared separation; had even been a little afraid
of the Sphinx, upon which she was now looking as
at a protecting angel: But they all were to meet
at the Sphinx!
If only she could have seen where the different
members of the family were, at that moment, she
could not have sat so quietly. She little knew
that a tall form, not far away (following some guides
down into the lower halls of a lately excavated tem-
ple), with a blue veil wrapped about a face shielded
with smoke-colored spectacles, was that of Eliza-
beth Eliza, herself, from whom she had been sep-
arated two weeks before.
She little knew that at this moment, Solomon
John was standing, looking over the edge of the
Matterhorn, wishing he had not come up 'so high.
But such a gay, young party had set off that morn-
ing from the hotel that he had supposed it an easy
thing to join them, and now he would fain go back,
but was tied to the rest of his party with their
guide preceding them, and he must keep on and
crawl up behind them, still further, on hands and
Agamemnon was at Mycenae, looking down into
an open pit.
Two of the little boys were roasting eggs in the
crater of Mt. Vesuvius.
And she would have seen Mr. Peterkin, comfort-
ably reclining in a gondola, with one of the little
boys, in front of the palaces of Venice.
But none of this she saw, she only looked into
the eyes of the Sphinx.






"TOOT, toot!" puffed Mrs. Punjaub,
Loud trumpeting with fear,
" I do believe what they call men'
Have been invading here !
And that they've spun their railroad,-
There 's so much talk about,-
Right through our quiet jungle
I have n't, now, a doubt! "

Thus spake a lady elephant
In her own far Siam;
But Mr. Punjaub bore the news
Just like a ponderous lamb.

\,/ l / z--

He laid his ears back lightly
As though he hardly heard,
And took a second bite of tree
Before he spoke a word.

"These so-called men are pigmies!
Pray, what can creatures do
Who have no tusks, nor even trunks,
Who 're so inferior, too?
Once. let them show their faces here -
I 'II scatter them like chaff! "
And then he smiled a lordly smile;
She laughed a wifely laugh.

They really quite enjoyed their fun,
So pleasant 't is to feel
Superior to some weaker sort,
And turn upon one's heel!

Till, one day, through their solitudes
There pierced a dreadful screech!
When, Mrs. Punjaub, fainting, caught
The nearest branch in reach!

Right down upon their silent haunts
There tore a shrieking train;
At which it seemed Punjaub, himself,
Would never breathe again !
One moment thus he quailed, and then
On that fast-flying train
He strove to turn; but it had passed,
And all was still again.

/ _. /.

The Punjaubs caught each other's eyes;
They winked, but did not speak;
Since Punjaub hardly would have told
His knees felt rather weak.
Though what to say they did not know,
Just what to do they did:
With one accord they galloped off
And straightway went and hid.

But Punjaub soon began to scold
And tear around and fret,
Declare he 'd never been afraid
Of any humbug, yet!
So, when that same invading train
Came slowly shrieking back,
Old Punjaub thundered boldly down
'To storm along the track.




, i' '


," ;;

I 'A:

Nor would he leave the gleaming lines, -
He roared: "This wild is mine!
And I shall go, or I shall stay,
Whichever I incline "

So pigmy man turned on his steam
And laughed with sly aside:
"If that's your tune, old Juggernaut,
We'll treat you to a ride I "

And, as the train rolled pointing on
Straight towards big Punjaub's legs,
The cow-catcher soon tossed his weight
Quite off those useful pegs.

Perhaps things wore an aspect new
As, crouching like a dog,
The startled beast was whirled away
At quite a lightning jog.





Unwilling though he were to ride,
He dared not drop his feet,
And so he did the next-best thing,-
He humbly kept his seat.
But when the playful man was tired,
And gave him half a chance,
Bewildered Punjaub found his feet
And fled with frantic prance.

W. -

S- i.

-. .-" .

And, as he went, with baffled rage
He pulled up mighty trees,
That so he might somehow secure
His injured spirit's ease.
Great Punjaub never rode again;-
The sun had scarcely set
Ere he had nailed a ticket up:-
" This Jlungle is To LET."



THERE are few pleasanter places in the world
than the hills of Western Anatolia, and the dainty
little white villages that look down upon the bright
blue waters of the Bosphorus form a maze of clus-
tering vineyards and sunny melon-patches. Any
one who is not afraid of heat or stinging-flies may
spend a month there pleasantly enough; but three
hundred and fifty years ago, when Turkey was
strong enough to scare all Western Europe, and
Russia had still the whole breadth of Tartary be-
tween her and the Black Sea, it was a very differ-
ent matter.
Then, all these shady gardens and green hill-
sides were one great mass of savage forest, through
which fierce beasts and fiercer men roamed at will.-
The town of Brusa-where you can now live in -a
snug, little hotel, and ride out into the country
whenever you please-shut and barred its gates, in
those days, the moment the glow of sunset began
to fade from the great, white dome of' Motnt
Olympus overhead. At night, the: howl of- the
Syrian wolves could be heard close under the.walls
and robbers haunted every road.
But there was one man who seemed to fear
neither wolf nor robber, cultivating his little gar-
den on the slope of the mountain, and trudging
into the town to sell his fruit, as coolly as if he had
been in the heart of Constantinople. Many people
told him that he would certainly be robbed or
eaten up some day; but Hassan, like a sturdy old
Turk as he was, only answered that no man can
avoid his destiny, and went on just the same as
before, raising and selling his fruit, and providing
VOL. IX.-49.

food for himself and his little girl, the only other
inhabitant of the clay hovel, and jogged along,
altogether, contentedly enough.
Now it happened that one day he had in his
garden a fine melon, so much bigger than all the
rest that he made up his mind not to sell it, but to
keep it. as .a birthday.treat for his little Fatima.
Old Hassan was -;' i. --i 7i .. -it, one hot after-
noon, as he smoked his long pipe in the shade,
and listened to the tinkle of the tiny stream that
kept his little plot alive, when suddenly the garden
door opened, and in came three men, with guns
on their shoulders and long spears in their hands.
Hassan's first thought was that the robbers were
upon him at last; but one glance showed him that
the new-comers, roughly-dressed and dusty though
they were,'did not.lo6kin the least like brigands.
Two of-themr were.fine-looking men of middle age,
whose- long, dark beards were just beginning to
turi. gray. .The third was a tall, handsome young
man with large, black eyes, who came forward and
said courteously :
"Peace be with thee, father. We have been
hunting on. the mountain and have lost our way;
tell.me, I pray you, how far it is to Brusa."
It lies right before you," answered Hassan,
rising at once to receive them, like a hospitable
old fellow as he was; and when you have rested
awhile, I will gladly guide you thither. But first,
I pray you, sit down and repose yourselves, and
take of such food as I can offer."
"That will we do gladly, for we have fasted
since sunrise," said the youth, seating himself;




" and we shall be well served with some bread and
a slice of yon melon; a finer I have never seen "
This was more than poor Hassan had bargained
for, and he looked ruefully at the splendid fruit,
his little daughter's promised treat. But it was not
in his nature to deny anything to a tired and hun-
gry guest, and in a trice the cherished melon was
vanishing piece by piece down the strangers'
throats, while Hassan stood by with a gallant
attempt at a smile.
But little Fatima did not take the matter so
quietly by any means. When she saw her father
pluck up the fruit, she was too much confounded
to say any thing; but the sight of it being devoured
before her very eyes was too much for her self-
command, which broke down in a burst of sobs
and tears.
"Ha! what means this?" asked the youngest
hunter, looking up from his meal. Hassan tried to
avoid an explanation, but there was something in
the young huntsman's look and tone not easy to
resist, and at last the whole truth came out.
And thou hast given thy child's chosen fruit
rather than seem inhospitable ? cried the guest
admiringly. "Would to Heaven all men followed
the Prophet's teaching like thee! then should I
have a quieter life of it. How say ye, friends?
What doth this man deserve?"
But before his comrades could answer, the gar-
den gate flew open again, and the whole place was
filled with richly-dressed men, who threw them-

selves at the young stranger's feet, crying: "God
be praised, we have found the Commander of the
Faithful, safe and sound!"
"Purse-bearer," said the huntsman, pointing to
Hassan, who stood petrified at the discovery that
his strange guest was no other than the Sultan
himself, "give this man a hundred zecchins, to
show him that Solyman leaves no good deed un-
requited. And, as for thee, little one," he added,
hanging around Fatima's neck the gold chain that
fastened his girdle, "let this comfort thee for the
loss of thy melon. Had I a daughter like thee,
my palace would not seem so lonely."
And away he swept toward Brusa with his retinue.
Now when the Governor of Brusa, a mean, greedy
fellow, heard of Hassan's luck, he at once picked
out the finest horse in his stables, and away he went
post-haste to present it to the Sultan, expecting to
get something very good in return.
"Thou hast deserved a good reward, my serv-
ant," said the Sultan, with a twinkling eye; for he
saw through the man in a moment. Yesterday, I
paid a hundred gold pieces for this melon; I give
thee the goodly fruit in exchange for thy horse! "
You may fancy how the Governor looked, and
what a hard time of it his household had that
night, though he took good care to tell no one
what had made him so angry. But the story got
abroad, nevertheless, and for years afterward,
" Hassan's melon" was a proverb throughout the
whole district.



You would n't think -it,. but the queer things
shown on the next page are merely baby-houses,
as they are cast. up on the sea-shore after the
youngsters who lived in them have started out in
life for themselves.
The long one, curving through the middle, which
looks like a string of empty seed-pods, was once the
home of a whole family. Inside each of these low,
round rooms, on a soft bed like the white of an
egg, reposed several baby Pyrulas, about as big
as grains of rice. .There, they lived and grew, shut
up closely from the salt water till they reached the
proper age,, when a tiny, round door in the front
opened, and out they all went into the sea.
Like many little, fellows who live in the water,
each baby Pyrula carries his own house on his
back. It is .made of shell, and of course is very

small at first, but it grows to be six or seven inches
long before he can be called grown up. The shell
is like a snail's shell drawn out longer at one end
into a canal, which makes it the shape of a pear,
and gives it the name Pyrula, which means a little
pear, though our grandfathers thought it more
like a fig, and named it The Tower-of-Babel Fig-
The Pyrula lives on our coast, and the empty
baby-houses -sometimes in a string a yard long
-are washed up by the waves, and called by sea-
side visitors "vegetable rattlesnake."
A grown-up Pyrula is a queer-looking fellow as
he walks about looking for fresh meat for break-
fast. His house is built over his back, as a lady
holds her parasol when the sun is behind her; his
head, with its feelers, or tentacles, and its pair of




black eyes stuck out in front to see the way; his
foot dragging behind like a trailing dress and
carefully supporting the door of his house.
His foot trailing! Strange as it sounds, it is
quite true. He has but one foot, though it is big
enough for a dozen, as we regard feet. On this
one foot he not only creeps around in the world
wherever he wishes to go, but leaves enough drag-
ging on behind to safely carry the door, as I said.
Big as the foot is, too, he can draw it completely
inside his house and close the door, which is a thin,
oval-shaped affair just fitting the opening; and
then you might mistake it for an empty shell tossed
up by the waves.
I should like to tell you the name by which you
might hunt him up in the big books; but alas!
he has had so many names that he 's as horrid to
find as though he had none. He's a JMollusc, be-
cause his body is soft, and a Cefphalous mollusc,
because he has a head, which not every body does
have in the sea. He 's a Univalve, because he has
but one shell, and a Gasteropod, because of his
wide, flat foot, and he is Canaliculated, because of
his long canal.
That 's not all: from his spindle shape he has
been called Fusus, and from his resemblance to a
pear, Pyrula. One names him Murex, because he
lives on the rocks, and another, Bousycon, for some
other reason. The last name up to 1875 is Syco-
teus, according to Professor Morse.
On the whole, until the scientists settle this
matter definitely, we may as well call him Pyrula,
as did our fathers before us.

A cnulsin nf hi-. thpe Whelk.
prepa':: .1 i. -.-: i,-
ter o!01 -i.,-_i ....l :
which L k I:
the erid- -.f

an ear of corn; and on the coast of Maine, it is
called Sea-corn, and a hundred years ago, it had
the name of Sea Wash-balls, being used by sailors
for soap.
Each little ball or bag of the cluster is the home
of several baby Whelks, whose life in the sea is
much like that of the Pyrula. The Whelk, too,
likes fresh meat for breakfast, and he gets it by
boring a hole through the shell of some tender
scollop, or other peaceful creature, and dragging
the owner out, to eat. The weapon with which he
thus breaks into his neighbor's house is his tongue,
which is a sort of ribbon armed with hundreds of
sharp teeth.
The square-looking object with a handle at each
corner, was the nursery of the baby Skate. You
who visit the sea-shore have doubtless often seen
them in a tangle of coarse sea-weed on the beach.
The Skate baby had this snug room to himself;
for he is much bigger than the Pyrula, and when
he made his way out into the world he was a
round, flat fish exactly like his mother, only, of
course, not so large. The empty case is black
and leathery, not at all like the yellowish baby-
houses of the Whelk family.
The thorny empty home in the foreground,
with its long, sharp tail running out below, belongs
to a young Horse-shoe Crab who grew too big for
it, and so simply went out at the front door, and
left it to be washed up on the beach. He is an
interesting little fellow, and you have already
been told some of his queer ways in the first vol-
ume of ST. NICHOLAS (page 262).
Ani nf the things in thi picture

-- -. I .I ,._.n our
-- - -- '.. I they
L t... hr the

-,- ... size.





By Joel Stacy.

S"Good-morrow, little rose-bush,
Now ti, .. tell me true:

/ To be as sweet as a sweet, red rose

Y What must a body do?"

i / '" To be as sweet as a sweet, eod rose
i H -litto girl lie you

and grovws-

And that 's what she must do."





SIEGFRIED staid but a twelvemonth in the Nibe-
lungen Land. A feeling of unrest came over him
again, and urged him on to seek new fields of dan-
ger and adventure. And he bade farewell to his
Nibelungen vassals, who wept as his shining face
departed from them. And he rode away through
the dark pine-forests and over the bleak mountains,
toward the Rhine country. Of whom he met, and
of what he did, and through what lands he fared, I
will not now stop to speak. But, at last, he reached
Burgundy Land, where he became the honored
guest of King Gunther, at his castle of Worms
upon the Rhine.
Right glad was the Burgundian king to wel-
come the wandering hero to his castle; and,

although the winter season had not yet passed, a
festival of rejoicing was held in Siegfried's honor.
And the noblest warriors and the fairest ladies of
Burgundy were there; and mirth and jollity ruled
the day. In the midst of the festivities, an old man,
of noble mien, and with snow-white beard and hair,
came into the great hall, and sang for the gay com-
pany. And some whispered that he was Bragi, the
sweet musician, who lives with the song-birds and be-
side the babbling brooks and the leaping waterfalls.
But he sang not of spring, as the sweet Bragi
does, nor yet of youth, nor of beauty. His song
was a sorrowful one,- of dying flowers and falling
leaves and the wailing winds of autumn; of for-
gotten joys, of blasted hopes, of a crushed am-
bition; of gray hairs, of tottering footsteps, of old
age, of a lonely grave. And, as he sang, all were
moved to tears by the mournful melody and the
sad, sad words. Then Siegfried said to him:

*The third story of this series appeared in ST. NICHOLAS for May.





By Joel Stacy.

S"Good-morrow, little rose-bush,
Now ti, .. tell me true:

/ To be as sweet as a sweet, red rose

Y What must a body do?"

i / '" To be as sweet as a sweet, eod rose
i H -litto girl lie you

and grovws-

And that 's what she must do."





SIEGFRIED staid but a twelvemonth in the Nibe-
lungen Land. A feeling of unrest came over him
again, and urged him on to seek new fields of dan-
ger and adventure. And he bade farewell to his
Nibelungen vassals, who wept as his shining face
departed from them. And he rode away through
the dark pine-forests and over the bleak mountains,
toward the Rhine country. Of whom he met, and
of what he did, and through what lands he fared, I
will not now stop to speak. But, at last, he reached
Burgundy Land, where he became the honored
guest of King Gunther, at his castle of Worms
upon the Rhine.
Right glad was the Burgundian king to wel-
come the wandering hero to his castle; and,

although the winter season had not yet passed, a
festival of rejoicing was held in Siegfried's honor.
And the noblest warriors and the fairest ladies of
Burgundy were there; and mirth and jollity ruled
the day. In the midst of the festivities, an old man,
of noble mien, and with snow-white beard and hair,
came into the great hall, and sang for the gay com-
pany. And some whispered that he was Bragi, the
sweet musician, who lives with the song-birds and be-
side the babbling brooks and the leaping waterfalls.
But he sang not of spring, as the sweet Bragi
does, nor yet of youth, nor of beauty. His song
was a sorrowful one,- of dying flowers and falling
leaves and the wailing winds of autumn; of for-
gotten joys, of blasted hopes, of a crushed am-
bition; of gray hairs, of tottering footsteps, of old
age, of a lonely grave. And, as he sang, all were
moved to tears by the mournful melody and the
sad, sad words. Then Siegfried said to him:

*The third story of this series appeared in ST. NICHOLAS for May.




"Good friend, thy music agrees not well with
this time and place; for where nothing but mirth
and joy are welcome, thou hast brought sorrowful
thoughts and gloomy forebodings. Come now,
undo the harm that thou hast done, and sing us a
song which shall tell only of gladness and good
The old man shook his head, and answered:
"Were I Bragi, as some think I am, or even a
strolling harper, I might do as you ask. But I am
neither, and I know no gladsome songs. I come
as a herald from a far-off land; and I bear a mes-
sage to King Gunther, of Burgundy Land, which,
by his leave, I will now deliver."
"Let the herald-bard say on," said the king,
Far over the tossing sea," said the herald,
"many days' sail from Norway's coast, there lies a
dreamy land called Isenland; and in its center
stands a glorious castle with six and eighty towers
built of purest marble, green as grass. Here lives
the matchless Brunhild, the maiden of the spring-
time and the fairest of all earth's daughters. Long
ago, she was one of Odin's Valkyrien; and, with
other heavenly maids, it was her duty to follow,
unseen, in the wake of armies, and, when they en-
gaged in battle, to hover over the field, and with
kisses to waken the dead heroes and lead their souls
away to Odin's glad banquet-hall. But, upon a day,
Brunhild failed to do the bidding of Odin; and
then the All-Father, in anger, sent her to live
among men, and, like them, to be short-lived and
subject to old age and death. But the childless
old king of Isenland took pity on the friendless
maiden, and called her his daughter, and made her
his heir. This caused Odin's anger to grow still
more bitter, and he sent the thorn of sleep to
wound the princess. And lo a wondrous change
came over Isenland; sleep seized on every creature,
and silence reigned in the halls of the marble
palace. And Odin said: Thus shall they all sleep
until the hero comes who will ride through fire,
and awaken Brunhild with a kiss.'
"At last, after many years, the hero came. He
passed the fiery barrier, safe; he woke the slum-
bering maiden; and all the castle sprang suddenly
into life again. And Brunhild, once more, is
known as the most glorious princess on the earth.
"But her beauty is not her only dowry; the
greatness of her strength is even more wonderful,
and a true warrior-queen she is. And she has sent
heralds into every land to challenge every noble
prince to match his skill with hers in three games
of strength, -in casting the spear, in hurling the
heavy stone, and in jumping.
The one who can equal her in these three feats
she declares shall be King of Isenland, and share

with her the throne of Isenstein; for the old king,
her foster-father, is dead. But every one who fails
in the contest shall lose his head. MIany have
already risked their lives in this adventure, and
all have fallen sacrifices to the odd whim of the
"And now, King Gunther, the i. .i .... is de-
livered to you. What answer shall I carry to the
queen ? "
Gunther answered, hastily:
"When the spring-time comes again, and the
waters in the river are unlocked, I shall go to Isen-
land, and accept the challenge, and match my skill
with that of the fair and mighty Brunhild."
Siegfried, when he heard these words, seemed to
be uneasy, and he whispered to the king:
Think twice, friend Gunther, ere you take any
steps in this matter. You do not know the strength
of this mighty, but lovely, warrior-maiden. Were
your strength four times what it is, you could not
hope to excel her in those feats. Give up this
plan, I pray you. Think no more of such an
undertaking, for it surely will cost you your life."
But these warnings only made Gunther the more
determined, and he vowed that nothing should
keep him back from the adventure. Then the
dark-browed Hagen, Gunther's uncle and counsel-
or, having overheard the whispered words, said:
"Our friend Siegfried seems to know much
about Isenland and the fair Brunhild. And,
indeed, if there is any truth in hearsay, he has had
the best of means for learning. Now, if our good
king Gunther has set his mind on going upon this
dangerous voyage, mayhap Siegfried would be
; ili;,, to bear him company ? "
Gunther was pleased, and he said to Siegfried:
My best of friends, go with me to Isenland and
help me in this adventure. If we do well in our
undertaking, ask of me any reward you wish, and
I will give it you, as far as lies in my power."
You know, most noble Gunther," answered
Siegfried, that, for myself, I have no fear; and
yet, again, I would warn you to shun the unknown
dangers with which this enterprise is fraught. But
if, after all, your heart is set upon going, make
ready to start as soon as the warm winds shall have
melted the ice from the river. I promise to go
with you."
The king grasped Siegfried's hand, and thanked
him heartily. "We must build a fleet," said he.
" A thousand warriors shall go with us, and we
will land in Isenland with a retinue such as no
other prince has led. A number of stanch sailing
vessels shall be built at once, and, in the early
spring, they shall be launched upon the Rhine."
Siegfried was amused at Gunther's earnestness,
and he answered: "Make no thought of taking




such a following. You would waste twelve months
in building and victualing such a fleet; you would
take from Burgundy its only safeguard against foes
from without; and when you should reach Isen-
land you would find such a force to be altogether
useless. Take my advice: have one small vessel
built and rigged and victualed for the long and
dangerous voyage; and, when the time shall come,
you and I and your faithful kinsmen, Hagen and
Dankwart-we four only-will undertake the voy-
age and the bold emprise you have fixed upon."
Gunther knew that Siegfried's judgment in this
matter was better than his own, and he agreed to
all the plans that Siegfried put forward.'
When the winter months began to wane, many
hands were busy, making ready for the voyage.
King Gunther's sister, the peerless Kriemhild,
called together thirty of her maidens, the most
skillful seamstresses in Burgundy Land, and began
the making of rich clothing for her brother and his
friends. With her own fair hand she cut out gar-
ments from the rarest stuffs the silky skins
brought from the sunny lands of Lybia; the rich
cloth of Zazemang, green as clover; the silk that
traders bring from Araby, white as the drifted
snow. For seven weeks, the clever maidens and
their gentle mistress plied their busy needles, and
twelve suits of wondrous beauty they made for
each of the four heroes. And the princely gar-
ments were covered with fine needlework and with
curious devices, all studded with rare and costly
jewels, and all was wrought with threads of gold.
Many carpenters and sailors were busy with axes
and hammers and flaming forges, working day and
night to make ready a ship, new and stanch, to
carry the adventurers over the sea. And great
store of food and all things needful to their safety
or comfort were brought together and put on board.
Neither were the heroes themselves idle. For,
when not busy in giving directions to the work-
men, or in overseeing the preparations that were
elsewhere going on, they spent their time in polish-
ing their armor, now long unused, in looking after
their weapons, or in providing for the management
of their business while away. And Siegfried for-
got not his trusty sword Balmung, nor his cloak of
darkness, the priceless Tarnkappe, which he had
captured from the dwarf Alberich in the Nibe-
lungen Land.
Then the twelve suits of garments, which fair
fingers had wrought, were brought. And when
the men tried them on, so perfect was the fit, so rare
was every piece in richness and beauty, that the
wearers were amazed, and all declared that such
dazzling raiment had never before been seen.
At length, the spring had fairly vanquished
all the forces of the cold North-land. The warm

breezes had melted the snow and ice and unlocked
the river, and the time had come for Gunther and
his comrades to embark. The little ship, well
victualed, and made stanch and stout in every
part, had been launched upon the Rhine, and she
waited, with flying streamers and impatient sails,
the coming of her crew. Down the sands at length
they came, riding upon their noble steeds, and
behind them followed a train of vassals bearing
their kingly garments and their broad, gold-red
shields. And on the banks stood all the noble lords
and ladies of Worms-King Gunther's brothers,
Gernot and the young Giselber, and the queen-
mother Ute, and the peerless Kriemhild, and great
numbers of warriors and fair dames and damsels.
And the heroes bade farewell to their weeping
friends, and went upon the waiting vessel, taking
their steeds with them. And Siegfried seized an
oar and pushed the bark off from the shore.
"I, myself, will be the steersman, for I know
the way," he said.
And the sails were unfurled to the brisk south
wind, and the vessel sped on its way; and many
fair eyes were filled with tears as they watched it,
until it could be seen no more. And with sighs and
gloomy forebodings the good people of Worms
went back to their homes, and but few hoped ever
again to sec their king and his brave companions.
Driven by favorable winds, the trusty little ves-
sel sailed gayly down the Rhine, and, ere many
days had passed, it was out in the boundless sea.
For a long time the heroes sailed and rowed, but
they kept good cheer, and their hearts rose higher
and higher, for each day they drew nearer the end
of their voyage and, as they hoped, the successful
termination of their undertaking. At length, they
came in sight of a far-reaching coast and a lovely
land; and a noble fortress, with high towers, stood
not far from the shore.
"What land is that ? asked the king.
Siegfried answered that this was Isenland, and
that the fortress which they saw was the castle
of Isenstein and the green marble hall of the
Princess Brunhild. But he warned his friends to
be very wary when they should arrive at the hall.
"Let all tell this story," said he; "say that
Gunther is the king, and that I am his faithful vas-
sal. The success of our undertaking depends on
this." And his three comrades promised to do as
he advised.
As the vessel neared the shore, the whole castle
seemed to be alive. From every tower and turret
window, from every door and balcony, lords and
ladies, soldiers and serving-men, looked out to see
what strangers these were who came thus unher-
alded to Isenland. The heroes went on shore with
their steeds, leaving the vessel moored to the bank;




and then they rode slowly up the beach and across
the narrow plain, and came to the draw-bridge and
the great gateway, where they paused.
The matchless Brunhild in her chamber had
been told of the coming of the strangers, and she
asked the maidens who stood around:
"Who, think you, are the unknown warriors
who thus come boldly to Isenstein? What is
their bearing? Do they seem to be worthy of our
notice, or are they some straggling beggars who
have lost their way ?"
And one of the maidens answered:
"The first is a king, I know, from his noble
mien and the respect which his followers pay
him. But the second bears himself with a prouder
grace and seems the noblest of them all. He
reminds me much of the brave young Siegfried of
former days. Indeed, it must be Siegfried, for he
rides a steed with sun-beam mane, which can be
none other than Greyfell. The third is a dark
and gloomy man; he wears a frown upon his brow
and his eyes shoot quick glances around; nervously
he grasps his sword-hilt as if ready for surprise.
I think his temper must be grim and fiery, and his
heart a heart of flint. The fourth is young and
fair and of gentle mien. Little business has he
with rude warriors; and many tears, methinks,
would be shed for him at home should harm over-
take him. Never before has so noble a company
come to Isenland. Their garments are of dazzling
luster; their saddles are covered with jewels; their
weapons are of unequaled brightness. Surely,
they are worthy of your notice."
When Brunhild heard that Siegfried was one of
the company, she was highly pleased, and she
hastened to make ready to meet them in the great
audience hall. And she sent ten worthy lords to
open the gate and to welcome the four heroes to
When Siegfried and his comrades passed
through the great gateway and came into the cas-
tle yard, their horses were led away to the stables,
and their clanging armor and broad shields and
swords were placed in the castle armory. Little heed
was paid to Hagen's surly complaints at thus hav-
ing every means of defense taken away. He was
told that such had always been the rule at Isen-
stein, and that he, like others, must submit.
After a short delay, the heroes were shown into
the great hall where the matchless Brunhild already
was awaiting them. Clad in richest raiment, from
every fold of which rare jewels gleamed, and wear-
ing a coronet of pearls and gold, the warrior-
maiden sat upon the dais. Five hundred warriors,
the bravest in Isenland, stood around her with
drawn swords and fierce, determined looks. Surely
men of mettle less heroic than that of the four

knights from Rhineland would have quaked with fear
in such a presence. King Gunther and his com-
rades went forward to salute the queen. With a
winning smile, she kindly greeted them, and said
to Siegfried:
C;I .-I do we welcome you back to Isenland,
friend Siegfried. We have ever remembered you
as our best friend. May we ask what is your will,
and who are these warriors whom you bring with
you ?"
"Most noble queen," answered he, "right thank-
ful am I that you have not forgotten me, and that
you should deign to notice me while in the pres-
ence of this, my liege lord," and he pointed to-
ward King Gunther. The king of all Burgundy
Land, whose humble vassal I am, has heard the
challenge you have sent throughout the world, and
he has come to match his strength and skill with
"Does he know the conditions of the trial?"
asked Brunhild.
"He does," answered Siegfried. "In case of
success, a queen, and the throne of Isenstein; in
case of failure, death."
Just so," said Brunhild. "Yet scores of wor-
thy princes have made trial, and all have failed.
I warn your liege lord to pause and weigh well the
chances ere he runs so great a risk "
Then Gunther stepped forward and spoke:
"The chances, fairest queen, have all been
weighed, and nothing can change our mind.
Make your own terms, arrange everything as
pleases you best; we accept the challenge, and
ask to make trial of our strength."
The maiden, without more words, bade her vas-
sals help her to make ready at once for the contest.
She donned a coat of mail, brought long ago from
the far-off Lybian shores, an armor which it was
said, no sword could dint and upon which the
heaviest stroke of spear fell harmless. Her hel-
met was edged with golden lace, and sparkled all
over with precious jewels. Her lance, of wondrous
length, was brought, a heavy weight for three
stout men. Her shield was as broad and as bright
as the sun, and three spans thick with steel and
While the princess was thus arming herself, the
heroes looked on with amazement and fear. But
Siegfried, unnoticed, hastened quietly out of the
hall and through the castle gate, and sped like the
wind to their ship, which was moored to the shore.
There, he arrayed himself in the Tarnkappe, and
then, silent and unseen, he ran back to his friends
in the great hall.
Be of good cheer he whispered in the ears
of the trembling Gunther.
The king could not see who it was that spoke




to him,- so well was Siegfried hidden by the cloak
of darkness. Yet he knew that it must be Sieg-
fried, and he felt greatly encouraged.
Hagen's frowning face grew darker, and the un-
easy glances which shot from beneath his shaggy
eyebrows were not those of fear, but of anger and
anxiety. Dankwart gave up all as lost, and loudly
bewailed their folly;
Must we, unarmed, stand still and see our
liege lord slain for a woman's whim? he cried.
" Had we only our good swords, we might defy this
queen and all her Isenland I "
Brunhild overheard his words. Scornfully, she
called to her vassals: Bring to these boasting
knights their armor, and let them have their keen-
edged swords. Brunhild has no fear of such men,
whether they be armed or unarmed.".
When Hagen and Dankwart felt their limbs
again enclosed in steel, and when they held their
trusty swords in- hand, their uneasiness vanished
and hope returned.
In the castle yard a space was cleared; and
Brunhild's five hundred warriors stood around as
umpires. The unseen Siegfried kept close by
Gunther's side.
Fear not," he said. "Do my bidding, and
you are safe. Let me take your shield. When the
time comes, make you the movements, and trust
me to do the work."
Then Brunhild hurled her spear at Gunther's
shield. The mighty weapon sped through the air
with the swiftness of lightning, and when it struck
the shield, both Gunther and the unseen Siegfried
fell to the ground, borne down by its weight and the
force with which the spear had been thrown. Sad
would have been their fate if the friendly Tarnkappe
had not hidden Siegfried from sight and given him
the strength of twelve giants. Quickly they rose,
and Gunther seemed to pick up the heavy
shaft. But.it was really Siegfried who raised it
from the ground. For one moment, he poised the
great beam in the air, and then, turning the blunt
end foremost, he sent it flying back more swiftly
than it had come. It struck the huge shield which
Brunhild held before her, with a sound that echoed
to the farthest cliffs of Isenland. The warrior-
maiden was dashed to the earth; but, rising at
once, she cried:
That was a noble blow, Sir Gunther'! I con-
fess myself fairly outdone. But there are two
chances yet, and you will do well if you equal me
in them. We will now try hurling the stone and
Twelve men came forward, carrying a- huge
rough stone, in weight a ton or more. And Brun-
hild raised this mass of rock in her white arms and
held it high above her head; then she swung it

backward once, and threw it a dozen fathoms
across the castle yard. Scarcely had it reached
the ground, when the mighty maiden leaped after,
and landed just beside it. And the thousand
lookers-on shouted in admiration. But old Hagen
bit his unshorn lip and cursed the day that had
brought them to Isenland.
Gunther and the unseen Siegfried, not at all dis-
heartened, picked up the heavy stone which was
half buried in the ground, and lifting it with seem-
ing ease, threw it swiftly forward. Not twelve, but
twenty fathoms it flew; and Siegfried, snatching
up Gunther in his arms, leaped after, and landed
close to the castle wall. And Brunhild believed
that Gunther alone had done these great feats,
through his own strength and skill, and she at
once acknowledged herself beaten in the games;
and she bade her vassals do homage to Gunther as
their rightful lord and king.
The unseen Siegfried ran, quickly back to the
little ship, and hastily doffed the magic Tarn-
kappe. Then, in his own proper person, he re-
turned to the castle, and leisurely entered the
castle yard. When he met his pleased comrades
and the vanquished maiden-queen, he asked in
careless tones when the games would begin. All
who heard his question laughed, and Brunhild
Surely, Sir. Siegfried, the old sleep-thorn of
Isenstein has been holding you in your ship. The
games are over, and your lord, King Gunther, is
the winner."
At this, Siegfried seemed much delighted-as,
indeed, he was. And all went together to the
great banquet-hall, where a rich feast was served
to the Rhineland heroes and to the brave knights
of Isenland.

Here the jarl's story ended. The children would
have been glad to hear more, but they knew that
it would be useless to ask. After a short pause,
Rollo ventured to say:
But you have not yet told us what became of
the treasure that was buried in the cave. I should
really like to know if it still lies hidden there; for
if that be so, I mean, as soon as I am a man and
have a ship of my own, to go and get it."
The treasure is not in the cavern," answered
the jarl, willing to satisfy the lad's curiosity. As
the dwarf Andvari had foretold, it proved to be
the bane of all who claimed its ownership, and of
Siegfried among the rest. -Gunther and his three
hero comrades soon returned to Rhineland, and
Brunhild went with them as Gunther's wife. But
Hagen grew jealous of Siegfried's influence over the
king, and he longed to seize, for himself, the Nibe-
















lungen hoard. And so, one day, while hunting in heard so often and yet seem to be never tired of
the forest, he treacherously slew the noble prince, listening to, over and over again."
The great Nibelungen hoard was then taken to "Tell it to us again, mother!" cried her chil-
Rhineland, and Hagen caused it to be thrown into dren, eagerly.
the deepest part of the Rhine river, and no man The good lady readily agreed to repeat the old
nor elf has ever been able to recover it." story, which had been heard at that fireside every
Jarl Ronvald's fair wife Gudrun, who until now Yule-tide eve for many years. And when the
had been a silent listener, here looked up and servants had brought fresh fuel and thrown it upon
said: the fire, and when the flames roared loudly up the
The story of Siegfried reminds me, somewhat, chimney, and the old hall was brightly lighted
of the old, old story of Balder, which you all have even to the farthest corner, she began.
(To be cownudimed.)



SCLIMB into my lap, little girl, little
*' 4 'll.. ,/ 1 girl,
Since you ;- *li -;stand;
1 Climb into my lap of gray old
S- pine,-
Lay hold of my hempen hand.

SA wonderful trip, little girl, lit-
Sa I tle girl,
e will take in a wonderful way,
the wonderful earth toward the wonderful
On this wonderful summer's day.

// 1Softly, and slowly, at first, we '11 stir,
/ As the shy, wild creatures pass,
S-'Scarce bending the tops of the clover blooms,
/ Or moving the feathery grass.

S- ,, *--" Then up-up-up-where the blossom-clouds
__ Shut close 'round the robin's nest.
Peep quick! Can you see the deep blue eggs
SShe hides neathh her soft, warm breast?

S-l-a lNow you can tell why the bobolink
SWhen from meadow-grass he springs,
Carols with joy as he feels the air
Pass under his outspread wings !





Ah, down--down-down-with a sinking
T h a .r k.. i., ,, 1 n r :i .I :'ill!
L ook ..1 ,r rl. i .dl_ l.,.I..l I i.
A nd ..ur- rh1. .,'IT.,, r hll I


.' "

It may be, the trout with the self-same sigh
Drops down to the depths of the pool,
Leaving the sun-bright ripples above
For the shadows safe and cool.

A bird or a fish or a butterfly,
Or a bee in a bed of thyme-
You shall know all their joys, little girl, little girl,
If into my lap you '11 climb !


' ,*'






PROBABLY many of the young readers of ST.
NICHOLAS, who are also readers of Sir Walter
Scott's famous romances, would like to hear of a
visit which I made a few years ago to the home
of that great writer. As some of 'you may know,
it is a fine and lordly mansion, surrounded by a
beautiful country, and situated on a bank of the
river Tweed, near Melrose Abbey, some thirty
miles south-east of Edinburgh, Scotland.
Leaving the cars at Melrose, from which it is
three miles distant, I drove the remainder of the
way in an open carriage. Hedges of hawthorn
skirted the fields that sloped away as far as the
eye could reach; flocks of sheep dotted them occa-
sionally; then a bit of grove; and everywhere
was the glory of a beautiful day, meet for a pil-
grimage to such a place.
I entered by the east-front between a hedge-row
and the ivy-covered wall. This view of the man-
sion is one of the prettiest. The many towers,
fantastic gables and airy turrets are seen to excel-
lent advantage. The entire estate was formerly a
part of the property of the Abbots of Melrose, and
the name was taken from the nearest' ford on the
Tweed. Sir Walter once said that he would make


Abbotsford "a poem in stone and mortar," and
right well did he succeed. It is as beautiful as a
fairy palace and as grand as an old feudal castle,



-- --
- : 5 -


and history and romance are literally woven into
its walls; for they contain sculptured stones from
the famous Tolbooth prison, the burgh of Selkirk,
Linlithgow Castle and many other places, each
embodying a story of its own.
I was compelled to wait some time for admittance
as the place is now open to visitors only two days
in the week, and on those days there is always a
throng. I recorded my name in the visitors' book
and waited patiently for the rare pleasure in store.
But when my turn came, it was a great trial to be
hurried by the guide through the different apart-

Seringapatam, when that Hindoo city was besieged
and captured by the English in 1799. On one side,
in a niche formed by a window, is a glass case con-
taining the last suit of clothes worn by Sir Walter.
Hanging on the wall at the extreme end near the
left door are the keys of the old Tolbooth prison.
There are also relics in this entrance-hall of James
VI., and Claverhouse, the "Bonny Dundee" of
Scottish prose and poetry. Only two windows light
the hall and they are so obscured by coats of arms
that the interior has been spoken of as being
"as dark as the twelfth century." I leave my


ments as he ran over at railroad speed the history
of each.
The entrance hall is forty feet in length. Its
lofty ceiling of oak, fashioned into a series of
arches, is exquisitely carved; the walls which are
also of oak, from Dunfermline Abbey, are richly
decorated in the same manner. The floor is made
of black and white marble from the Hebrides.
Along the walls are many suits of old armor, the
most noticeable being an English suit of the time
of Henry V., and an Italian one of more recent
date; above them are the coats of arms of the
ancient border clans, conspicuous among these
being the arms of Douglas and the Royal Lion of
Scotland. There are also helmets, rapiers and clay-
mores in great variety, as well as Polish lances, and
a suit of chain mail taken from the corpse of one
of the royal body-guard of Tippoo Sahib, ruler of

young friends who study history to decide how
dark that is. ri....!, in one of the corners,
but not visible in the picture, is an American
ax that was much prized by Sir Walter as the
gift of Washington Irving. Many of you have
doubtless read Irving's description of his stay
at Abbotsford. It is a fine tribute to the host who
entertained him so royally. The farewell at the
gate was "I will not say good-bye, but come
again." Irving tells us that he was so impressed
while there with the fact that Sir Walter, notwith-
standing the miracles of work he did, quite con-
cealed his work from his friends and always
seemed to have an abundance of leisure. He
contrived to appear ever at the command of
his guests, ready to participate in every excursion
and continually devising new plans for their en-




The drawing-room contains an admirable col-
lection of portraits. Above the mantel is that of
Sir Walter himself with one of his ever faithful

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dogs near him. On one side of this hangs the
portrait of his mother, and on the other, that of
Lady Scott, and. near it, that of his warm friend
the Duchess of Buccleugh. The oval frame above
the door contains the portrait of Lady Hope-Scott,
the great-granddaughter and only surviving de-
scendant of Sir Walter, and the present owner of
Abbotsford. -Among the other portraits are those
of the beautiful Lucy Walters, mother of the Duke
of Monmouth, and the old ancestor, the stubborn
great-grandfather of Sir Walter Scott, who would
never let his beard be cut after the execution of
Charles I. Beside these, there is a collection of
views in water-colors, eight in number, by the cele-
brated English painter, Turner, presented by the
artist himself. And not least in importance, a
souvenir of that most unfortunate woman, Mary,
Queen of Scots,-a head painted the day after her
execution by one Amias Cawood; ghastly, repul-

sive, robbed of all its grace and loveliness. It is
said to have been sent to Sir Walter by a Prussian
nobleman in whose family it had been for more
than two hundred years.
The floor of the room is bare, but is waxed and
polished until it is almost as slippery as ice. Not
even a rug dots the cold expanse, so that despite
the artistic display upon the walls with their silken
hangings, rare china and cabinets, and the rich
furniture, there seems to American eyes to be
something lacking; perhaps a home-like warmth
which might be diffused could the great and
kindly owner live again.
The study is a small room adjoining the library.
A gallery reached by a hanging stair, and filled
with books, runs around it. In the center stands
Sir Walter's chair and desk just as he last left
them. At this desk he wrote most of the Waverley
Novels, and after his death were found in it, neatly
arranged, a number of small articles which had be-
longed to his mother when he was a sick child and
shared her room, and which he had been accus-
tomed to seeing upon her table. They were
placed so that his eyes could rest upon them while
he worked, as if he would borrow inspiration from
the holiest recollections of his childhood.
In the earlier part of the century, Scott's poet-
ry was very popular, but he suddenly found him-
self eclipsed by a new favorite--Lord Byron. It
was then that he began to write his novels, which
so entirely captivated the English reading world,
that fame and fortune followed. The public could
scarcely await the sheets as they were hurried from
his hands to the printer's press. His company was
eagerly sought by the highest in the land, and even
crowned heads were glad to do him honor. Yet
amidst all this he retained a simplicity of nature
that no adulation or flattery could spoil. It is
related that, upon one of his numerous excursions
into a remote part of the country in the search for
old folk-lore, a humble farmer with whom he
stopped, knowing his fame, expected to be dazzled
by his grand air. But after seeing and talking
with him, the peasant exclaimed delightedly:
"He's a chiel like oursels! "
While making these rural tours, instead of
taking .notes for future use, Sir Walter would
simply cut notches upon sticks as reminders, and
he often filled not only his own pockets but those
of his traveling companions with these notched
bits of wood, so that it was once laughingly
declared that on their return to Abbotsford "enough
timber was discharged from our various integ-
uments to build a ship." The genuineness, the
sweetness, the healthy tone of Sir Walter's char-
acter, which never changed, I can not help thinking
was attributable in a great measure to his extreme




fondness for out-door life. He was wont to say
that he only taught his boys two things,-to ride
and to shoot, leaving the rest to the mother and.
their tutors.
He invariably rose early, and often accomplished
before breakfast an almost incredible amount of
work. While he sat at his desk, one or more of
his dogs always lay at his feet, and were apparently
as glad as he was, when the morning task was over
and they could accompany him on his ride or stroll.
His horse never waited to be led out, but as soon
as he was saddled and. the stable-door opened,
trotted around to be mounted. Once upon the
death of a favorite dog, -Sir Walter asked to be ex-
cused from an engagement to dine, as he had "lost
a dear friend." In after years, when his fortunes
suffered such cruel disasters, he declared that
"Nimrod," one of his pets, was "too good for a
poor man to keep."
The library is considered the handsomest of all
the apartments. It is fifty feet in length by thirty
in breadth, and has an immense bay-window that
affords a charming glimpse of the Tweed. The

on the wall, is the portrait of Sir Walter's eldest
son, who was colonel of the Fifteenth Hussars. He
went out to Madras in 1839, and was a very popu-
lar and efficient officer; but he soon fell a victim to
the fatal climate of India and died on the return
voyage to England, whither he had been ordered on
account of his health. Here, too, is the bust of
Sir Walter at the age of forty-nine, by Chantrey.
There are chairs exquisitely wrought, from the
Borghese Palace at Rome, the gift of the Pope; a
silver urn upon a stand of porphyry, from Lord
Byron; and an ebony cabinet and set of chairs
presented by King George IV. In a glass case,
shielded from the touch of profane fingers are the
purse of Rob Roy; the brooch of his wife; a note-
book in green and gold, once the property of Na-
poleon I.; and a gold snuff-box, also given by King
George IV. When this royal friend was Regent,
he invited Scott to dine with him in London, ad-
dressing him familiarly as "Walter," and shower-
ing upon him evidences of his esteem; when he
succeeded to the throne, one of the first acts of the
kingly prerogative was to create him a baronet.


ceiling is carved after designs from Melrose Abbey. The fascinating history of the adventures of Rob
There are twenty thousand volumes here and in the Roy would tell us conclusively, even if Sir Walter
study. The book-cases were made under Sir Wal- himself had not frankly avowed it, that he had a
ter's direction by his own workmen. Some of them rather trifling regard for his heroes proper, and an
contain rare and curious old books and MSS. that unfortunate propensity for the dubious characters of
are carefully guarded under lock and key. Here, borderers, buccaneers, Highland robbers, and all




others of a Robin Hood description." I confess,
for my own part, that I looked long and curiously
upon the brooch that belonged to Rob Roy's wife.
But as I leaned over the case, I was thinking more
of the wife than of the dauntless outlaw; of the
woman who reproached her husband upon his
deathbed for exhibiting some signs of contrition for
past misdeeds, exhorting him to die as he had
lived, like a man." Rob Roy's portrait hangs in
the study. And yet another trace of him is found
in the armory; his gun with the initials R. M. C.
(Robert Macgregor Campbell) cut around the lock.
The armory contains a wonderful array of the
weapons of various nations and ages, and disposed

his agony. This is the last of the show-rooms ";
visitors are not allowed elsewhere in the mansion.
. As I went out, an almost oppressive silence
brooded over the house and grounds, and I pon-
dered upon the story of Sir Walter's struggle for
this lordly, ideal home, and the painful buffetings
of fortune which he endured afterward. I thought
of the joy and beauty of his earlier years, of his
triumph and his fame, and then of the sad day
when he came back to Abbotsford from a foreign
tour, which he had undertaken in the vain hope that
it would restore his health. When, on that day, he
caught sight first of the Eildon Hills, and soon after
of the towers of Abbotsford, his emotion was pro-


among the spears, battle-axes, darts, arrows, etc.,
aie many relics not of a warlike character, such as
Oliver Cromwell's spurs and the hunting-bottle of
"bonnie King James; and the cross which you
can see on the wall once belonged to the Queen of
Scots. Bonaparte's pistols, said to have been found
in his carriage at Waterloo, and a sword superbly
mounted, bestowed upon Montrose by Charles I.,
also belong to this unique collection. I wish I
might say no more here, except to mention the
bulls' and stags' horns over the doorway, but there
is a secret as dark as Blue Beard's. In a corner,
almost, but not quite, hidden from view are some
of the old Scottish instruments of torture called
" thumbkins," and an iron crown which was so
adjusted that the victim could not even cry out in

found. It was his last view of them from the outer
world. How touching the greeting to his humble
and cherished friend: Ho, Willie Laidlaw! 0
man, how often I have thought of you!" And
those other devoted followers, the never forgotten
dogs, gave their full share of the welcome home,
" fawning upon him and licking his hands while he
smiled or sobbed over them."
Not long afterward, and just before his death,
he said to his son-in-law, "Lockhart, be a good
man, my dear,-for when you come to lie here,
nothing else will be of any avail." Surely, in
those last hours, if the panorama of his own years
passed in review before him, it included no scenes
for which he need feel repentance. The record
of a singularly pure child-life was continued




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Sir Walter was altogether perfect. He was prob-
ably much indulged, owing to his lameness and his
delicate health; certainly, we never hear that his
mother objected to his Shetland pony following him
VoL. IX.-50.

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into the house And we have his own word that,
when a starling that he had partly tamed was




killed by the old laird of Raeburn, he "flew at his
throat like a wild cat, and could only be torn from
him with difficulty.",
Dryburgh Abbey, where Sir Walter's body is en-
tombed, is four miles from Abbotsford. It was
founded in the eleventh century, but was destroyed
in the fourteenth by Edward II. It was restored
by Robert I., and in the changes of centuries again

destroyed. St. Mary's Aisle, with its arched roof
and clustering columns, is the most beautiful frag-
ment now remaining. Within its shadow lie Sir
Walter Scott, his wife, eldest son, and Lockhart,
whom he loved so much, and who made such an
admirable and complete chronicle of his life, and
which should be read by every lover of the great
Prince of Romancers.







"CAPTAIN JOHN," said I, "did n't you tell
me that you sometimes brought wild animals in
your ship on your return voyages from South
Captain John had just put a couple of fresh
sticks on the fire, and had re-arranged the other
logs, and he now leaned back in his chair, rubbing
his hands before the comfortable blaze. He was a
fine, hearty man, of about middle age, and for
many years had been a sea-captain, commanding
sailing vessels trading between the United States
and various ports in the West Indies and South
Oh, yes," said he, I often used to bring up
animals. They were generally small ones, of vari-
ous kinds, and I brought them on my own account.
I could easily sell them to menageries and museums
in our home ports. I brought one of the first elec-
tric eels that was ever carried to New York. I got
it in Para, Brazil, and I bought it of some Indians
for twelve milreis-about six dollars of our money.
We had lots of trouble with this fellow, for these
eels live in fresh water, and, if we had not had
plenty of rain on the voyage, we could n't have
kept him alive, for the water he was in had to be
changed every day. We kept him on deck in a
water-barrel, which lay on its side in its chocks,
with a square hole cut through the staves on the
upper side to give the creature light and air.
When we changed the water, a couple of sailors
took hold of the barrel and turned it partly over,
while another held a straw broom against the hole
to keep the eel from coming out. We would
always know when the water had nearly run out,
for then the eel lay against the lower staves, and
even the wood of the barrel would be so charged
with electricity that the sailors could hardly hold
on to the ends of the barrel. They 'd let go with
one hand and take hold with the other, and then
they 'd let go with that and change again. At
first, I did n't believe that the fellows felt the eel's
shocks in this way; but, when I took hold myself
one day, I found they were n't shamming at all.
Then we turned the barrel back and filled it up
with fresh water, and started the eel off for another
Before we began to empty the barrel, we always
took a chain-hook and felt about in the water to see
if he was alive. A chain-hook is a longish piece
of iron, with a 'handle at one end and a hook at
the other, and is used for handling heavy chains.

When we were scooping around in the water with
this hook and touched the eel, we would always
know whether he was alive or not, for, if he was all
right, he would immediately charge the iron with
electricity, and the fellow that held it would know
quick enough that the eel was alive. We took this
trouble because we did not want to waste fresh
water on him if he had died in the night.
He got along first-rate, and kept well and
hearty through the whole of the voyage. When
we reached New York we anchored at Quarantine,
and the health-officer came aboard. I knew him
very well, and I said to him: 'Doctor, I 've got
something aboard that perhaps you never saw
before.' 'What 's that?' said he. 'An electric
eel,' said I. 'Good!' said he; 'that is something
I 've always wanted to see. I want to know just
what kind of a shock they can give.' 'All right,'
said I; 'you can easily find out for yourself. He is
in this water-barrel here, and the water has just
been put in fresh, so you can see him. All you
have got to do is just to wait till he swims up near
the surface, and then you can scoop him out with
your hand. You need n't be afraid of his biting
you.' The doctor said he was n't afraid of that.
He rolled up his sleeve, and, as soon as he got a
chance, he took the eel by the middle and lifted it
out of the water. It was n't a very large one, only
about eighteen inches long, but pretty stout. The
moment he lifted it he dropped it, grabbed his
right shoulder with his left hand, and looked aloft.
'What is the matter?' said I. 'Why, I thought
something fell on me from the rigging,' said he.
' I was sure my arm was broken. I never had such
a blow in my life.' 'It was only the eel,' said I.
' Now you know what kind of a shock he can give.'
On that same voyage we had a monkey, one of
a rather uncommon kind. He was what they call a
woolly monkey, and was covered, all over with short
wool, like a sheep. He was the smartest monkey
I ever knew. He was up to all kinds of tricks. We
did n't keep him caged, but let him run around as
he pleased about the ship and in the rigging. For
some reason or other, he used to hate the cook.
Every day, when the cook was getting the dinner
ready, when he had set out the bread and the
cold meats, the monkey would hide somewhere
and watch him, pretending to be asleep. The
moment the cook started to go out of the cabin,
Jacko would come in at the door behind him (we
always left the door at each end open in hot weather




for the sake of the draught), and, springing on the
table, would seize a piece of meat, or a cracker,
or anything else that was handy, slip past the cook,
and get out of the other door before the angry cook
could catch him. Then he would bounce up into
the rigging, and wait till the cook came out."
And sit there, I suppose," said I, and-eat the
food he had stolen?"
Not a bit of it," answered the captain. The
minute the cook showed his head, Jacko would hit
him on the top of the pate with whatever he had
taken-bread, meat, knife, fork, or spoon. It was
no use for the cook to get mad; he could never
catch that monkey.
There was one thing that always excited Jacko's
curiosity, and that was our changing the water
every day in the eel's barrel. There were eight
water-barrels standing there in a row, and why
three men should go every day, and empty the
water out of one, and pour more in, and never
touch the other barrels, was more than the monkey
could understand. He used to sit on the main-
boom and watch the whole operation, just as full of

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curiosity as he could stick. But he never could see
anything in the barrel.
"One day, I thought there was going to be bad
weather, and, as I was afraid it might be too cold
for the eel on deck, I had his barrel moved to the
store-room, where it would be well sheltered. This
move made the monkey still more curious; and
the first time we changed the water after the eel
got into his new quarters, the monkey sat on the
head of a pork-barrel close by, and had a better

w of this mysterious and perplexing business
an had ever been vouchsafed him before.
" When we went away, Jacko staid there, and,
opening to be standing where I could see him, I
ticed that he was running around the water-
rrel, and trying his best to see what was in it.
ien, as he had seen us trying to fish up something
th a chain-hook, he thought he would try to fish
the same thing, whatever it was, himself. So
jumped up on the barrel, and, leaning over, ran
a right arm down into the water, and began to
aop around and around, just as he had seen us
with the chain-hook. Pretty soon he felt the
ng he was after, and grabbed it tight.
"But that monkey never saw that eel. The
moment he clutched it he let go, gave one wild,
ckward leap, and fell on the floor with a dull
ud. I went up to him, and found him laid out as
he were dead. I picked him up by the back of
e neck, but he hung as limp as a wet dish-rag.
ie cook came along just then, and I said to him:
" Cook, Jacko is dead. He has found out what
in that barrel, and the eel has killed him.'
"I laid him on the pork-barrel, and was
just saying something about his having such
an eternal amount of curiosity, when Jacko
jumped to his feet, gave a bounce out of the
store-room, and in a minute was up in the
main cross-trees, chattering and screaming
as if he had gone mad. After he had been
knocked over by the shock, he had made
believe to be dead, fearing that whatever
S had hit him would hit him again. He often
used to play 'possum in this way when he
was afraid of anybody; but I thought he
was really dead this time.
"After that, he never came around us
when we were at work at the eel's water-
barrel. He did not want to know what was
in it.
I sold that eel for seventy-five dollars
to a menagerie man in New York State.
And I sold the monkey too; but I have
often wished I had him again, for he was
the smartest monkey I ever saw."

1 Did.you ever carry any really danger-
S ous animals, Captain John ?" said I.
"Well," said he, once, when I was in Para, I
bought a snake, a boa-constrictor, seventeen feet
long. I got him of four Indians, who caught him
some twenty-five or thirty miles up the river. They
brought him into town in a strong covered crate,
or basket, which they carried on two poles. When
I bought him I had him carried into my old con-
signee's yard, and I got' a stout packing-box, and
had it all double-nailed, and holes bored in the
sides to give him air. Then the Indians put the




snake in the box, and we nailed him up tight, leav-
ing him in a snug corner for the night.
The next morning, I went around early to the
market (the markets there are open only about

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sunrise) to buy something for my snake to eat, for
the Indians said he was nearly starved. I got a
couple of little animals, something like our rabbits
(for these snakes wont touch any food that is n't
alive), and I carried them around to my con-
signee's house. I found the old gentleman had n't
turned out of his hammock yet; but he soon got
up, and went with me into the yard. When we
got there, we saw the packing-box all burst open,
the boards lying around loose, and no snake to be
seen. We looked about, but could see nothing of
him. I was amazed enough, to be sure, and the
old gentleman felt quite uneasy at the thought of
such a creature wandering about his place.
'We wont look for him,' he said. 'Those
Indians are still in town, and we will send for them
to catch him.'
The Indians came, and they soon found him.

You can't imagine where he had hidden himself.
There was a pile of earthen drain-pipes in one
corner of the yard, behind some bushes, and he
had crawled into one of these short pipes, and then
turned and crawled into the one next to it, and
then into the next one, and so on, in and out, until
he had put himself into five or six of the pipes. He
had probably seen, through the holes in his box,
some of my old consignee's chickens, and, being
made perfectly ravenous by the sight, had broken
out. Then, having made a meal of one or two of
them, he had crawled into the pipes.
The Indians were not long in capturing him.
Fortunately, his head stuck out of one of the pipes
near the ground; and one of the Indians, taking a
long pole with a fork at the end, climbed on a
high fence near by, and soon pinned Mr. Snake's
head to the ground, leaning on the pole with all his
weight. Then the other Indians straightened out
the drain-pipes in which he was, and began to
draw them off him, pulling them down toward his
tail, and first exposing the portion of his body
nearest his head. Then they took a long, strong
pole, and, with bands of the tough grass which
grows in that country, tied his body to the pole
close to his head. Then they bound him again,
about eighteen inches farther down. Slowly draw-
ing down the pipes, they tied him again to the
pole, about eighteen inches below, and so on until
his whole length was fastened firmly to the pole.
Thus he was held secure until the box was nailed
up again, and I had sent for a blacksmith to put
iron bands around it, so that it should be strong
enough to hold any snake. Then the creature's
tail was loosened and put through a hole in the
top of the box. Then another band w-as cut, and
the snake pushed still farther in. Then, one after
another, every fastening was cut, and the snake
pushed gradually into the box, until, his head being
loosened and clapped in, a board was fastened
over the hole, and he was snug and tight and
ready for his voyage."
Did you have any trouble with him when you
were taking him to the North?" I asked.
But just then the supper-bell rang, and the
captain arose to his feet. It was of no use to
expect Captain John to go on with a story when
supper was ready.







DURING a tour of several months in Europe, I
arrived in the ancient city of Pisa at eleven o'clock
on a lovely summer night. Being of course very
eager to see the famous LeaningTower, I resolved,
as the moon was shining brightly, not to wait for
daylight, but to visit the Tower before retiring.
On my asking the proprietor of the hotel to tell me
the way to the Leaning Tower, he became greatly
excited, and exclaimed: "It is impossible to go
to-night!" I laughed at his fears, and told him
nothing was impossible to an American boy. He
'still hesitated, but finally came out reluctantly into
the middle of the street and pointed out the course
I was to take.
Off I started, full of the self-confident fearless-
ness of impetuous youth. Before turning the
corner, I looked back and saw the old man still
standing and gazing after me. I felt sorry for him,
thinking his fears for my safety were groundless.
For a few squares the street was wide, and the
full light of the moon cheered me onward; but
soon my way was not to be so clear.
Coming suddenly to the end of the wide street, I
found myself by the side of the ruins of an old cath-
edral. The irregular walls covered with ivy, the light
of the moon shining through the ruined gothic

windows, and showing the decayed and mossy
interior, gave to the scene a solemn grandeur that
filled me with awe. Just in front of the cathedral
was the river Arno, a narrow stream, and the water
low within its banks. Mine host's directions to me
had been to go "straight onward" from the old
cathedral. But how was the river to be crossed?
There were no bridges in sight. Walking around
the corner of the old edifice and up the bank of
the Arno, I presently saw the outline of a boat close
to the shore, and as I drew nearer, I not only
found the boat, but discovered the owner thereof
lying flat on his back, with his arms thrown over
his head.
The light of the moon, shining on his face, gave
it rather a ghastly expression, and for a moment
I paused; but, with a laugh at my fears, I stepped
into the boat and kicked one of his feet so as to
waken him. This unceremonious treatment roused
him quickly enough, and he sprang up and glared
at me fiercely. Not being an expert in the Italian
language, I went through a series of pantomimes,
which he finally understood to mean that I wanted
him to take me across the river. Whereupon, seizing
a long pole, he pushed his craft out into the sluggish
stream. As we reached the middle, it occurred




to me that here would be a fine opportunity for
my ferryman to collect whatever fare he wished.
Accordingly, I courteously declined his invitation to
enter the cabin, as I much preferred standing where
I could see all around me and watch his move-
ments. However, I had no trouble with my sleepy
boatman, and our craft soon reached the opposite
side of the river. Walking up the bank I found, to
my dismay, that I was in quite a different kind of
a city from that I had left. The streets were so
narrow that, extending my arms, I could touch
the buildings on both sides as I walked, and the
houses were very high and overhanging, almost
shutting out the moonlight. After pro-
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found open. It was now two o'clock in the morn-
ing, and the intense stillness was oppressive. Not
a sound of any kind excepting my footsteps; not
a human being to be seen, nor a light in any
of the buildings.
After a long, tedious tramp, I saw what appeared
to be a fire a long way ahead of me, but shortly
discovered that it was merely the light of the moon
shining across an open space. Pushing on rapidly,
I came to the end of the street, and there, to my
delight, I saw directly in front of me the Grand
Plaza of Pisa, with the massive Cathedral and
the Baptistery and the beautiful Leaning Tower

..,,,. .

along for an hour,
a wall at the end o
to feeling a little
to the first cross-st
distance, and turn

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CAMPO SANTO. pair of beautiful ornamental iron gates which at-
tracted my attention. But when I went up to
I at last found myself facing them and looked through, the sight was not one
if the street, and I must confess calculated to add to my cheerfulness, for I found
nervous. Retracing my steps myself facing the great Campo Santo, or burying-
:reet, I walked along it a short ground of Pisa. The bright light of the moon
ed into another street which I on the marble monuments and tombs, the weird




shadows of the porches, the perfect stillness of the
night, inspired me with a strange feeling of awe.
Leaving this solemn place, I walked over to the
grand old Cathedral and the Baptistery near the
Leaning Tower. From that point the Tower was
distinctly outlined, and the sight of its eight stories
and the columns of pure white marble, glittering
in the moonlight, amply repaid. me for my tedious
Advancing to the base of the Tower, I went in-
side and looked up. The bell-ropes touched the
sides near the top and hung down clise to the wall.
I think that a man looking up from the bottom of
a deep well would have a very good idea of the
appearance of the Tower as seen within from the
base, especially if the well happened to be quite
off the perpendicular.
I began to climb leisurely to the top, but I
could not prevent myself from edging toward the
center as I walked around on the leaning side. It
seemed to me that my weight alone would cause
the whole structure to topple over.
This wonderful Tower is about thirty feet in
diameter at its base, and is one hundred and forty-
six feet high.
If any one of my boy-readers should climb the
one hundred and ninety-four steps to the top
without feeling inclined to hold on to the higher
side and tread very lightly on the lower side, he
would have steadier nerves than the Hoosier boy
who climbed the Tower that night. The stairs
are worn by the tramp of millions of feet, for the
curiosity of people since the year 1174 has led
myriads of them to climb the steps of this remark-
able edifice, to reach the place where Galileo was
wont to go to study the heavens.
There are in the belfry six large bells, which are
still used. The largest one is said to weigh six
tons, and is hung on the side opposite the over-
hanging wall, perhaps to aid in balancing the
Tower, which is twelve feet out of the perpendic-
ular. I believe that it is still unsettled whether its
oblique position is the result of accident or design.

The foundation is in a low, wet place and, it is
claimed, shows signs of having sunk many feet
farther into the earth on one side than the other.
The top story also leans back perceptibly from
the lower side, as if built to counteract the sink-
ing of the foundation.
After resting awhile at the top of the Tower, I
descended and walked over to the Baptistery. Its
magnificent bronze doors, so celebrated as works
of art, could be seen to advantage that night
only on the side on which the moonlight fell.
Close by the Baptistery stands the solemn, ancient
Cathedral, finished in the same style of architecture
as the Tower. It was the swinging of the ancient
bronze chandelier in this cathedral that suggested
to Galileo the idea of the pendulum, and thus
originated the method of marking time which is
used in some clocks.
I had almost decided to remain on the Plaza,
and in the vicinity of these three justly cele-
brated objects,- the Tower, the Baptistery, and
the Cathedral,- until morning; but I had now be-
come very tired, and the desire for rest and refresh-
ments decided me to make an effort to find my
hotel. I must confess that this seemed to me a
greater task than finding the Tower. I was in the
situation of the Indian who could not find his wig-
wam-he was not lost, but the wigwam was. I
was not lost, for I knew where I was, but it was my
hotel that was to be found.
Off I started, however, to the end of the Plaza
opposite to that I had entered, and here I found
a wide, beautiful street, and proceeding along it
for half an hour, I came to a handsome bridge
over the Arno. Upon this bridge I paused to
take my bearings, and presently described the dim
outlines of my old friend, the ruined Cathedral.
Following the street along the river for a few
squares, and turning the corner by the Cathedral,.
I came once more to the street on which stood
the hotel, which I finally reached in safety just
at daylight, and received a hearty welcome and
many congratulations from the old landlord.

C-1 .;.

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THE birds are singing,
/ The bells are ringing,
There's music in all the air, heigh-ho I
As all together,
In golden weather,
We merrily go to the fair, heigh-ho!

We have no money
For ribands bonny,
Ouri clothes are the worse for wear,
heigh-ho !
But little it matters,
In silk or in tatters,
We merrily go to the fair, heigh-ho!

Come, lads and lasses,
The time it passes;
Step out with a royal air, heigh-ho !
As all together,
In golden weather,
We merrily go to the fair, heigh-ho!








[Autzor of the "Land of Nod" and Com6edies for Children."]

THREE children were swinging and swaying
upon the bending branches of a stout Vistula
cherry-tree--clinging and swinging and swaying
there with shouts and laughter, in the same jolly
way that you and I have swung, many a time, from
the overhanging limbs of some springy willow or
fragrant apple-tree in our own American meadows.
But these noisy swingers were not Americans.
They were the children of an old race and of
a far-off day. Strong-limbed, fair-haired, blue-
eyed Paul and his two sisters, Rosa and Mira,
were children of Servia, natives of that slightly
known but most interesting section of Eastern
Europe whose plains and passes and wooded hill-
slopes have echoed the war-cries of Roman and
Byzantine, of Barbarian and Turkish conquerors
from distant ages until now. Take your atlas and
turn to the map of Turkey in Europe, follow the
winding course of the "beautiful blue Danube "
until you reach Belgrade, and there, stretching to
the east and south, ribbed with mountain-ranges
and crossed by several rivers, is the old kingdom
of Servia, the country where, on a verdant hill-
slope, near to the ancient city of Karanovatz, on a
bright June morning away back in the year 1389,
Paul and his two sisters were swinging merrily on
the lower branches of their favorite cherry-tree, or,
as they called it, their vishnia. As thus they
swung, they could catch glimpses now and then,
across the dark green fir-tops, of the tall, gray
towers of the royal palace of King Lazarus, from
which floated the imperial banner of the double
eagle, and of the ivy-covered walls of the old monas-
tery of Siczi, the Cloister of the Seven Gates."
And well they knew, simple children though they
were, the stirring stories of Servian valor and of
Servia's greatness. Often had they heard, both at
the meetings of the grave elders, and from gray
old Ivan the bard, as he sang to the music of the
rude guitar, or gusle, how the palace was built in
the early days of the kings; how from it had
marched to victory the royal Stephen, the mighty
Tzar, whose flag had floated over many a battle-
field, until the power of Servia was acknowledged
from the white walls of Belgrade to the azure
waters of the Grecian Seas; how, in the holy clois-
ter of Siczi, each new king of the line of Stephen
had been crowned with the "diadem of Dushan,"
and, sword in hand, had issued from the cloister as

king of Servia, through a new door cut for his
special exit in the ivy-coveredwall; and how, now,
seven gates for seven kings had thus been cut, and
the noble Lazarus ruled as the seventh king of
Servia in his palace at Karanovatz. All this they
knew, for they were Servian children-proud of
the old tales and legends told at the fireside, and
dearly loving the green hills and fertile valleys of
Servia, and, best of all, the waving forests that cir-
cled and shadowed their own Servian home.
And, as they swung, now high, now low, they
played at their game of king and queen, singing
the song known to every boy and girl of Servia.
It was thus that Paul sang to Rosa:

"The king from the queen an answer craves:
How shall we now employ our slaves? "

And Rosa answered:
The maidens in fine embroidery,
The widows to spin flax-yarn for me,
And the men to dig in the fields for me."

Then Paul sang to Mira:
"The king from the queen an answer craves:
How shall we, lady, feed our slaves?"

And Mira replied:
"The maidens shall have the honey-comb sweet,
The widows shall feed on the finest wheat,
And the men of maize-meal bread shall eat."

But just as they were about to sing the next
verse, in which the king asks:
"Where for the night shall rest out slaves?"

they heard a shout and a rustle, and Mira's pretty,
dappled fawnkin, Lado, all timid and trembling,
came flying for safety up to the children; and
almost before Mira and Rosa could calm the
frightened creature, and Paul, snatching up a
stout cherry-branch, could stand on guard, a
swooping falcon darted down at poor Lado's head.
The girls screamed, and shook their silken jackets
at the fierce bird; but Paul, swinging his cherry-
stick, struck the bird on its sleek gray neck, and
stretched it, a dead falcon, at his feet.
0 Paul, Paul! O Lado, Lado cried both
the girls in mingled joy and fear, as they stroked
their rescued pet and trembled for Paul's safety;
for he had killed, perhaps, one of the royal falcons.



They were not kept long in suspense, for there
came galloping up to them, mounted on a swift
Wallachian pony, a stout-built youth of some six-
teen years, richly dressed, his long, yellow hair
streaming out from under his scarlet cap.
O Paul, run t Run, dear Paul! moaned Rosa.
"It is the young bau / "
Then Paul knew that he had killed the falcon
of the young prince, or bau, Stephen, the son of
King Lazarus. But he stood his ground. I will
not run," he said.
The prince looked at the group, saw the trem-
bling Lado, saw the dead falcon, saw Paul's stout
cherry-stick, and, leaping from his pony, he rushed
at the boy, white with rage.
"'Thou dog!" he said, striking at Paul with
his unstrung bow. "How dar'st thou kill my
falcon ? "
Paul answered as bravely as will any boy of
spirit who has justice on his side and the weak
under his protection.
Strike me not, O Prince he said. I sought
not to kill thy falcon, but to drive him off, lest he
should tear and blind our fawn."
"Thou wolf! thou pig! thou dog !" screamed
the prince, still furious at his loss; and flinging
aside his bow, he grasped his yataghan, or short
scimitar, to cut the boy down. Rosa and Mira
threw their arms around Paul, but he shook them
off, parried the prince's stroke with his stick, and,
grasping his arm, said: Take care what you do,
my prince. My grandfather is Nicholas, an im-
perial officer. 'T will go hard, even with thee,
shouldst thou harm or kill me."
"The vilas of the forest and the vilas of the
mountain choke and smother thy grandfather!"
said the enraged prince, and he would have struck
at Paul again, but just then there came a clatter of
horses' hoofs and a gleam of shining armor, and
through the trees at full gallop came the prince's
uncle, Milosh Obilitch, the chief captain, or vo'-
vode, of King Lazarus of Servia, followed by
three mounted spearmen. A look of displeasure
came into his face as he caught sight of the prince's
angry countenance and Paul's defensive attitude.
"Come here, my prince," he said, sharply;
why dost thou loiter there? Even now thy
father, the Tzar, is on the march to Kosovo, and
waits but for his son."
I would be even with this vampire though the
Turkish Tzar himself was at our palace gates,"
said the prince, wrathfully, and then he told his
side of the story.
But his falcon would have killed our fawn, O
mighty baa," said Rosa-" our fawn, Lado, dear
to us as life,"
The voivode Milosh laughed a mighty laugh.

"Now, by the fist of the Cloud-gatherer," he
swore in roughest Servian, bau I may be, and
trusted soldier of the Tzar, but I am no judge
of man or child. Come, we waste words. Get
you to horse, my prince. A gallop through Kush-
aja will cool your hot young head. Fawns and
falcons must wait, for 'When the Tzar rides, all
business bides.' "
The prince stood in great awe of his mighty
uncle. He therefore obeyed his command, though
in rebellious silence, and mounted his pony with
angry reluctance.,
"As for you, little ones," said the voivode,
"you, too, must wait for justice with fawns and
falcons. Here, Dessimir," he said, turning to one
of his spearmen, "take these children to the
cloister. Greet the abbot Brankovicz for me, and
bid him give these little ones safe keeping till I
return, God willing, from Kosovo. Then shall
the king decide on the right of this affair, for
surely I will not. Now, gallop, my prince! To
the Turk, to the Turk !"
There is nothing more unlovely and unforgiving
than a sulky boy balked of his revenge. The
Prince Stephen followed his uncle as commanded,
but there were black looks on his face and blacker
thoughts in his heart. As for Paul, he was
overjoyed at this fortunate end of an unlucky
quarrel. He knew the kindly old abbot Branko-
vicz, and felt that he and his sisters would be safer
within the protecting walls of the great cloister
than even in the strongest inner chamber of their
grandfather Nicholas' house, now shorn of all its
men for service against the Turkish invaders. So
he took his sisters by the hand, and, following the
spearman Dessimir, they walked rapidly toward the
gates of the old monastery, while Paul sang softly
to himself, as he looked at the giant form of the
volvode Milosh, who galloped far in advance, a
popular Servian song:

"'Swaggering surely is no sin,
Fair I face the battle's din,'
Laughed old Peter Doitchin,
The burly bait of Varadin."

The good abbot Brankovicz, who was the
superior or head of the cloister, at once under-
stood the children's case, and readily took them
under his protection; but, before they had passed
within the outer gate, Paul's eyes rested upon a
sight that fired his boyish heart with the chiefest
of boyish ambitions -the wish to be a soldier. For
there, along the white road that passed through
fields of growing maize and under arching forest-
trees, the main body of the army of Servia wound
over the mountains toward the rocky ridge that
overlooked the field of thrushes--the fatal field




of Kosovo. The fair June sunlight flashed on
the fast vanishing array of steel-capped casques
and bristling spears, and, just before the cloister
gates, it touched with a glorious gleam the golden
corselet of King Lazarus himself, as, with his
guards and seigneurs, he rode in the vanguard
of his army. Tall, commanding, and gentle-
featured, he glanced backward but once to the
gray towers of the palace of his queen, and but
once to the ivy-grown walls of the Cloister of
the Seven Gates, from which in brighter days he
had issued as Servia's acknowledged king. The
shadow of his dream seemed resting upon him-
that dream in which, 't is said, the Lord offered
him the kingdom of Servia or the kingdom of
Heaven-an earthly or a heavenly realm; and
the gentle Tzar made the better choice, for he
said :
"What, then, is the earthly worth ?
It is but a day,
It passeth away,
And the glory of earth full soon is o'er;
But the glory of God is more and more."

And so, pointing with his "massy mace of gold"
toward his advancing army, he bent his head to
the priestly benediction as he passed the cloister
gates, and, preceded by the gallant young Bocko
Yougovitch, bearing the great purple standard of
the cross, with his son, the sulky Prince Stephen,
riding at his bridle-hand, with nobles in golden
corselets and gleaming helmets following after,
with stout spearmen, and lusty curtal-axmen, and
trusty archers closing the glittering cavalcade, up
the steeps of the Scardus, and on toward the dis-
tant mountain-passes through the fair June weather
rode Lazarus, the last of the Servian kings to fight
for his fatherland against the hosts of the Turkish
Paul gave a great sigh as the cloister gates shut
the inspiring sight from his boyish eyes.
0 that I were a man and a soldier he said.
"Would to St. Sava that you were, little
brother!" said the patriotic old abbot. "Servia
needs every hand and every heart to guard the
crown and save the cross from infidel robbers."
But childish desires quickly change, as childish
hearts quickly open to each new joy, and, through
the few days that followed, Paul found no lack of
incident to blur the memory of shield and helm
and brighten the joys-of living pleasures. For the
good monks of the monastery, too engrossed in
prayers for Servia's safety and in anxious and
weary waiting for tidings from the battle to look
after three harmless children, suffered them to
roam at will, unquestioned and unchecked. So
Paul and Rosa and Mira, merry-hearted, and
thinking little of a danger still distant, roamed

alike through cloister and holy forest." Paul
could recall many of the stories and legends that
hovered about the old walls-legends of the saints
it shrined and stories of the mighty Tzar who had
honored and decorated it. These he could tell,
with many boyish embellishments, to his wondering
and adoring sisters. Together they knelt before
the scarlet altar, or looked with curious awe at the
dusty memorials of dead kings or the relics of
Servia's saints; together they stood before each of
the seven gates in the cloister wall, rehearsing the
stories of the kings, while Paul, crowned with
maple-leaves and roses, and bearing a white wand
of peeled maple, stood in turn under the shadow
of each royal gate personating each of the seven
kings, while Rosa and Mira wheeled and whirled
before him in the fleet figures of the kolo, the
favorite dance of Servia. When tired of the sunny
cloister and the chapel walls, they would wander
through the forest paths that, to them, led to
No people in Europe is so greatly given to
romance and superstition as are the Servians.
But it is an airy and fanciful superstition, full of
fairies and angels and lucky signs or unlucky
omens. And Paul and his sisters were devoted
believers in all the delicious mysteries of their
home-land. To them every tree, and stream, and
grassy mound had its attendant sprite-its fairy
guardian, or vila, as they called it; witches and
vampires sought to entrap heedless or wicked chil-
dren, but would quickly disappear at the sound of
a little prayer or at the sign of the holy cross. So
they roamed and romanced through the monastery
woodlands, seeing fairy forms in every waving bush,
and weaving innocent fairy fancies around each
sunny grotto and shady nook. But their favorite
resort was the old moss-grown fountain close to
the cloister walls. Here they would sit for hours
under the shade of the mountain maples, watch-
ing the bubbling waters and speculating about the
Lady of the Fountain-the White Vila of whom
they had so often heard in the songs of old Ivan
the bard-the White Vila who haunted the holy
fountain, and appeared only when Servia's glory or
Servia's distress called her forth.
On the fifth day of their stay in the monastery,
the fifteenth of June, 1389, the children came from
the cloister woods, where they had been playing
at the Fire-festival, Servia's great June festival of
St. John. It was a lovely afternoon, and they were
wrapped in mystery and fancy, and therefore
happy. For Paul had declared that, as he watched
while the girls waved their tiny torches, he had
thrice seen the sun stand still, as it was said to do
on St. John's feast, in honor of that worthy saint.
The girls, of course, devoutly believed it too, and




now the three approached their favorite maple-
tree, singing softly the Servian harvest song:

"Take hold of your reeds, youths and maidens, and see
Who the kissers and kissed of the reapers shall be;
Take hold of your reeds, till the secret be told,
If the old shall kiss young, and the young shall kiss old."

But the song died upon their lips as Rosa, sud-
denly clutching Paul's arm, pointed to the moss-
grown fountain, and whispered:
"Oh, Paul Paul! see there "
Paul looked as directed, and there, under their
favorite maple, he saw a white-robed female figure,
standing motionless. Her hands were clasped,
her eyes were turned toward that part of the
cloister where the last of the seven gates, the gate
of King Lazarus, pierced the ivy wall.
"Rosa! Mira!" he exclaimed, under his breath,
"'t is she 't is she- the White Vila! "
The figure raised its clasped hands toward the
cloister walls. "0 holy Elias! O saintly Maria!
saintly Sava! it said, "guard thou the Tzar
Lazarus; save thou the golden crown of Servia
from the infidel Turk! "
Now restrained by childish timidity, now drawn
on by childish curiosity, Paul and his sisters grad-
ually approached the apparition. Then Paul's
curiosity, as is often the case, got the better of his
caution. Stretching far forward to hear the Vila's
words, he tripped and fell forward. At the sound
the figure turned quickly. A beautiful but sorrow-
filled face looked upon the children, and a tear-
laden voice asked: "And who are you, O little
ones, here in the cloister gardens ?"
Rosa and Mira drew back in fear, but Paul
answered stoutly enough, though a trifle shakily:
"The grandchildren of the good Nicholas, so
please you," he said; and then added: -"We
are here, under safeguard of the holy abbot, for
killing the falcon of the young bat, Stephen."
"The falcon of Stephen killed !" said the white
figure. "Oh, cruel omen !
"But it would have killed our fawn, O White
One!" said trembling Rosa-"our fawn Lado,
and Paul struck it down."
And we wait here till the king's return," said
"The king's return ?" sadly echoed the White
One. "Ah, little brother, they who wait longest
wait safest."
"But will the king not return ?" Paul asked, for the
first time feeling that perhaps all the gleam and glit-
ter of that soldierly array might go down in disaster.
"Who shall say?" the figure replied. "This
morning, when the dawn was dim, two black ravens,
flying from Kosovo, perched upon the palace.of the
Tzar, and thrice they croaked and thrice they called."

And Paul, full of Servia's legends and omens,
said sadly:
"When ravens croak and falcons fall,
Low hangs the black cloud over all."

"The falcon has fallen, the ravens have croaked,
the black cloud hangs low over the Seven Gates.
See !" said the White One, and she pointed where,
across the cloister wall, the heavy shadows lay
across the gateways of the kings.
"But, can you not save Servia, O lady White
Vila?" Paul asked, appealingly. Old Ivan the
bard has sung that the White Vila of the Fountain
stands Servia's friend in Servia's need."
But, before an answer could be made, the cloister
gates swung open with a sudden clang, and straight
to the holy fountain dashed a black courser, flecked
with foam, while on his back swayed a wounded
rider the courier of the Tzar.
"0 Milontine !" cried the white lady, rushing
toward him. "The Tzar, the Tzar ?"
The courier dropped from his saddle and kissed
the lady's robe.
O true-eyed Queen," he said, the sun of
Servia is down; dead is the great Lazarus "
Ah, woe is me !" she said; the ravens, the
falcon, and the black cloud did show but the
truth !"
And as her fair head drooped in grief, Paul knew
that the White Vila of the Fountain was the sweet-
eyed Melitza," the widowed queen of Servia.
"And my boy Stephen? How died the young
bau, Milontine ?" she asked, raising her head.
The courier hesitated. Hear the end, O
Queen he said, and then he told in few but weary
words the whole sad tale. He told how gallantly
Servia's army met the foe; how bravely young
Bocko guarded the purple standard of the cross;
how her brother, the voivode Milosh, cut his way
through twelve thousand Turkish soldiers to where
King Lazarus stood at bay, and fought the Turkish
sultan himself; how, when they were overpowered
by numbers, Milosh and the king still fought until
vanquished, and how even in his death-struggle
the voivode's blade had cut down the sultan too;
how the new sultan, Bajazet, in his tent, slew
the great Lazarus; and, last of all, how Stephen-
her son, the young bac, the hope of Servia-had
early in the battle deserted to the enemy, told the
Turks the secret of Servia's array and the weakest
spot in her battle-line, and now, in the tent of the
Turkish sultan, saluted him as master and lord.
Calm in face and feature, the queen waited till
the last; but when the story of her son's treachery
was told, she started to her feet.
0 sacred house!" she said, turning to the
monastery walls, O Cloister of the Seven Gates !




from out whose holy doors have issued Servia's
kings, at whose sacred altar the holy christening
drops fell on my baby Stephen's head, fall now
and cover Servia's wretched queen! "
"And doubt ye, doubt ye, the tale I tell?
Ask of the dead, for the dead know well;
Let them answer ye, each from his mouldy bed,
For there is no falsehood among the dead;
And there be twelve thousand dead men know
Who betray'd the Tzar at Kosovo."

So, under the ivy-covered walls of the Cloister
of the Seven Gates, swooned the sweet queen of
Servia; so, on the fatal field of Kosovo, fell the
noble Lazarus, the last of Servia's kings; so a
traitor son betrayed a kingly father; so Lado the
fawn lost the crown of Servia.
And now, why have I told this story of Servia's
sorrow, this tale of a far-off time, and of a land
so little known to the boys and girls of to-day-
this tale, half fact, half fable, as I have gathered
it from the mist of romance that obscures the
history of a fair land and of a gallant race ?

Five hundred years have passed since the fatal
day of Kosovo, five centuries since the last of
Servia's kings fell, fighting bravely in her defense.
Through all these years, with only now and then
a gleam of light, a bright but transient :1 ....-'.
of the spirit of liberty, the Turk has ruled as
master of the land. But now her deliverance has
come. In 1868, when but a boy of fourteen, the
young Milan Obrenovitch was acknowledged as
tributary prince of Servia; a young man of twenty-
two he, in the year 1876, revolted against Turkish
misrule and freed Servia from the long tyranny
of her Moslem conquerors. And now, in this very
month of August, 1882, he will, unless some
change of ceremonial occurs, "bear his crown
forth into the world," amid the glad acclaims of an
emancipated people, as King Milan the First of
Servia, passing through a new gate cut in the
time-stained, moss-grown wall of the old Cloister
of the Seven Gates, under the shadow of which
Paul and his sisters saw the White Vila of the
Fountain five hundred years ago.



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MASTER HARRY HADLEY, aged just fourteen at
the time I shall tell you about, was a very genial
boy, and had no fear of making the acquaintance
of strangers whose appearance pleased him. His
sister Anne, two years younger, but almost as tall,
went everywhere with him, and shared in all his
adventures, without a thought of consequences.
They finally tired of the places they had been in
the habit of visiting summer after summer, and,
having recently read Cooper's "Last of the Mo-
hicans," had succeeded in persuading their mother
that, after a brief stay at Saratoga, a visit to Lake
George would be an agreeable change for them all.

So it happened that, on a bright summer morn-
ing, they found themselves actually at the begin-
ning of their long-anticipated journey, and about
to enter the commodious stage drawn up at the
door of the hotel. And when a dark, grave-look-
ing stranger, who occupied an outside seat, beck-
oned to Harry with the air of one who knew the best
places, and generally got them, nothing seemed to
him more natural than at once to accept so friendly an
invitation, in which he also liberally included Anne.
If Mamma made any objections, they were so
faint as to be lost in the bustle attending the start,
for the next moment the stage was off.



Mamma and her eldest daughter, Marie, settled
themselves comfortably inside the coach, content
to know that Harry and Anne were at least safely
on board, and would need no further care for
the present.
It was a perfect summer day. The six shining
horses trotting smoothly along the planked road;
the light, bounding motion of the coach, the lofty
seat whence they could look down complacently
on the boys and girls toiling along the sidewalks
or roadsides,-all this made Harry's blood tingle
with a pleasant excitement.
He sat quite still, however, for he was not given
to making a noise when he was pleased; but
looked about with an interest sharpened by his
keen enjoyment. The swallows darting from low
eaves, sparrows in oak thickets, and a-kingbird
poised on beating wings over a fluttering moth, he

passing over' had been used by the armies, that
there had often been much fighting along it;
and that the block-houses had been built for shelter
and protection.
Harry became so interested that he began to
make. good resolutions about studying colonial
history; but he forgot all about them when the
stranger beside him asked him if he liked fish-
ing, and pointed out a trout-brook, winding among
meadows and thickets. Sometimes it was lost in
a green level, and anon hid itself in a small piece
of woodland. A miserable little scow, managed by
two boys, was coming slowly down the brook,
laden with water-lilies. Anne shouted with delight
when they threw her a handful. She could not
find a penny to throw to the boys, for her purse
was at the bottom of a pocket very much like
Harry's, full of all sorts of things accumulated in


merely pointed out to Anne. Looking back, he
saw distant purple mountains, which their new
acquaintance told them were the long, outlying
ranges of the Green Mountains. Then Anrie re-
membered having read that, during the French
and Indian wars, this very road which they were
VOL. IX.-5 I.

their travels. However, that did not matter, for
the stranger threw down some small change.
"Evidently," thought Harry, "he carries his
pennies loose in his pockets."
Then they wound along hill-sides shaded by
huge chestnut-trees, whose little fuzzy burs began



to peep from among the green leaves. The hills
beyond were high and covered with dark woods.
Anne wondered if there were not bears in those
"Very likely," said the stranger; "bears are
very fond of chestnuts and acorns."
"Have you ever seen a bear loose in the
woods?" inquired Harry.
"Once or twice-yes, twice," said the stranger,
Harry took a good look at him for the first time.
He was a handsome man, with dark eyes and dark
skin, almost like an Indian's, but his hair and beard
were fine and smooth. Anne could not help
noticing his brown hands, with clean nails, and
the "useful" look they had-not at all like most
gentlemen's hands; but he seemed in no hurry to
tell them about the bears.
"Did you sec them here?" asked Harry.
"Oh, no-a long way off in the mountains.
We were hunting deer, and our supper depended
on our success. I was not anxious to see a bear,
because I had become tired of eating bear-steak,
and we were wishing for a change. I waited for
a deer to pass me, for the dogs had started one;
but they had started a bear also. Well, when I
heard the small cedar-trees rustle, I thought a deer
was coming, and took up my gun; but after wait-
ing a long time, a huge black paw was put out from
among the branches, and slowly waved, as though
beckoning me to come forward. It was so like a
great rough hand that I shuddered. Then there
was a silence. I took steady aim, and fired where
I had seen the paw. Something or somebody
cried 'Oh!' in a deep voice, and a heavy body
plunged off the rocks, and fell with a scramble and
a crash down the hill. I was so sure that I had
shot one of my men that I threw down my gun
and ran forward, calling out, 'Who are you ?
Oh, tell me who it is!' A howl that was more
dreadful than any thing I ever heard before or
since answered me. I had only my knife, but
I knew that my shot would call in the rest of my
men, if they were near me. I could hear the bear
crashing about in the close thicket. It seemed an
age, but it could not have been five minutes, before
I had regained my rifle and faced the bear as it
scrambled up the rocks. As its breast rose over
the hill I fired, and it fell back, dead."
Harry's cheeks tingled, and he panted softly,
looking into the dark eyes before him.
"Was it a very large bear?" asked Anne.
"Very large," said the stranger, and we had
to eat it, for there was no deer killed that day."
"Oh," said Harry, "I wish I had been with
you "
"To eat bear-meat?" laughed the man. Then

he pointed out to them a bit of blue like the sky,
which he said was Lake George. They rolled
down the long, sloping embankment of the sliding
sand-hill, with its bank swallows wheeling in cir-
cles overhead, and then through the pines, and
across to the hotel-a thing Harry and Anne cared
very little about, and that little only for the sup-
per and the rest, before the glad to-morrow in
which they should see the old fort and the scene
of the massacre of the unfortunate prisoners by
their savage conquerors.
About nine o'clock next morning, Harry and
Anne came out of the woods, and climbed the
grassy mound that covers what was once Fort
George. They had walked slowly across the
rough lime-rocks, trying to trace in the confused
heaps. of broken stone the lines of defense and
the fire-places of the log-barracks which once stood
there. Harry had grown eloquent in his descrip-
tions, for he knew that he had an admiring audi-
ence, and that gave him a sense of freedom which
made him rather reckless as to numbers and dates,
After a time he began to be speculative, and he
seriously questioned the possibility of three thou-
sand men getting inside so small an inclosure.
The bit of wall still left, with its half-closed em-
brasure, he considered a trifling affair. Tramping
up and down over the short, fine grass that
covered the piles of stones and mortar, he went
too near the edge, and, in the midst of a flourish
of sneers and gesticulations, disappeared from
Anne's admiring eyes, as suddenly as if some hid-
den savage had extended a long arm from below
and pulled him down. Indeed, it was several
seconds before she quite understood that he was
gone. Then her screams rang through the woods
and echoed along the rocky mountain-sides, peal
after peal, as, more than a hundred years before,
the screams of the helpless prisoners had waked
the echoes on the day of the massacre. She dared
not look down, though the fall was not great, for
she did not doubt that Harry was killed. So she
stood with clenched hands, crying loudly in a way
that Harry despised and had often scolded her
for, when two strong brown hands clutched her
arms, and she felt herself swung into the air and
carried swiftly along the mound and down the
broken rocks below the wall.
Five minutes later, she was laughing through her
tears to see the mortified look on Harry's face when
he opened his eyes and beheld the grave counte-
nance of their companion of the day before.
Presently, Anne brought some water in Harry's
folding cup, and he sat up as well as ever, but
with a monstrous bump on his forehead where he
had indented the turf, as their new acquaintance
smilingly showed them.




"Now," said Harry, "I am Harry Hadley, and
this is my sister Anne -"
And I," said the gentleman, interrupting him,
"I am the Old Man of the Mountains, and if
you want to address me by a commoner name,
you may call me John Jones. Suppose you call
me John, and let us shake hands and swear eter-
nal friendship."
I don't mind if I do," said Harry; and if you
are going to the mountains again soon, I wish you
would persuade Mamma to let me go too. I don't
care sixpence for school, and I 'd rather be a good
hunter than any thing I can think of."
Oh, but I am not a hunter," said John, "and
I went to school for many years before I visited
the mountains. I should like to have you go with
me, but you would not be happy yourself, or help
me, until you had a good education. The more
you learn, the more you will enjoy the woods; so,
my boy, stick to school and be a brave man. Just
now, you and I and sister Anne are having a play-
spell, so let us enjoy it. Come, if you feel like
walking, we will go back to the place you came
from in such a hurry, and I will tell you something
about this old fort."
So they climbed the mound, and John took them
about, and showed them what the shape of the fort
had been before it was blown up, and how easily
the Frenchmen had taken it by planting guns on
a height, and shooting into the inside instead of the
outside of the inclosure.
You can read the whole story in any good
Colonial History.
Harry, kicking carelessly about in a heap of rub-
bish dislodged by recent rains, had unearthed a
round ball of rusty iron- an old grape-shot, which
made him very happy, but not more happy than
Anne, who picked up a bit of glazed ware as large
as a penny. Nothing but the persuasion of their
new friend kept them both from digging with
might and main for more relics.
John led them down across the rocks, among
the pines and thorn-bushes, to the lake, and
then he gathered some waxy white callas and
arrow-leaves to put with Anne's harebells. It was
very late before they thought of dinner-so late
that Mamma and sister Marie began to feel uneasy,
and were looking out for them, when they came up
from the lake along the road shaded by pines.
It did not add to Mamma's pleasure to observe
that the children were accompanied by a stranger,
a dark man whom she took to be a foreigner; and,
moreover, that both the young people were evi-
dently charmed with him.
However, Mrs. Hadley forebore spoiling their
enjoyment by reproving them, but after dinner she
went down and bought tickets for passage on the

"Ganouskie" to French Point the next day. When
the young folks heard of it, Anne tried to console
Harry by reminding him that the steam-boat ride
must be delightful, and then there was the whole
afternoon still left for a row.
Harry had learned to row well, so that his
mother readily gave her consent to his taking
Anne for a ride on the lake. The) had not long
been on the water before they discovered Mr.
Jones at a little distance in a pretty boat. Though
they did not speak to him, he presently rowed
near them, and kindly showed Harry where to
land on one of the little islands. They were very
much puzzled by his proceedings. He rowed
up and down, and looked through a telescope at
the mountains for a long time, first from one point,
then from another. When they left the lake he
was still lying down in his boat, with the long
glass resting across the side.
When Mamma took Harry and Anne on board the
"Ganouskie" the next morning, she looked all
about the boat and the dock for the dark man, but
he was nowhere in sight; so she gave herself up to
the enjoyment of the beautiful blue sky, with its
great, fleecy, piled-up banks of white clouds, that
were so perfectly reflected in the lake as to seem
another sky below. Even the ripple made by the
boat when under way did not spread far or fast
enough to break the picture, and rocks, trees, and
mountains all floated in doubles along the shore.
Little steamers, with gay parties on board, trailed
lines of light from point to point, and canoes and
yawls, holding specks of dazzling scarlet, blue, and
white, flitted about like some strange species of
water-beetles. Anne was in ecstasies, and even
sister Marie forgot her fine complexion, and let the
sun and the wind kiss her pink cheeks. Harry
was having a splendid time watching the boys out
on the water.
So Harry watched the boats, and let the shores,
with their glimpses of houses embovered in trees,
stretches of woods along the water, and bits of
green meadow-land, slip by him unobserved.
When he saw a boy about his own age hauling in
fish, he could ., Li .11. keep from clapping his hands.
Often, the little boats lay so near that he could
look down into them as they danced about in the
swell the Ganouskie made, and the little steam-
ers puffing away so spitefully bobbed about in such
a merry way that Mamma and the children laughed
to see them.
But there are other ways of traveling than by
steamer, for here, some miles up the lake, pulling
easily along in a pale green tinted boat, built as
long and slim as a trout, was Mr. Jones himself.
He turned his dark face toward them, and nodded
smilingly to both Anne and her brother. Harry





became thoughtful as he watched him. Of all
ways of traveling, he decided he should prefer ca-
noeing. It cuts one off from the rest of the world-
at least, that part of it which travels in cars and
steam-boats. "Everybody goes this way," said
Harry to Anne, as he confided to her his preference
for small boats; but to row about wherever you
like, to sleep in your boat, and to cook and eat in
it, would be glorious. I say, Anne, you and I will
go off together that way, some day."
Anne was sure she should like it if Harry did.
After seeing Mr. Jones, Harry began to be in-
terested in the places where the boat made landings.
He could not help being amused by the troops of
children at every little pier. Some were busy with
rods and lines, and one party of boys had a splen-
did water-spaniel that plunged in and brought back
to shore whatever they threw to him, till one boy
pulled off his shoe, and tossed it out, crying,
" Take it, Charley But before Charley could

reach it, the shoe turned around once and sank out
of sight, to the great amusement of the boys, who
made the hills ring with their shrill laughter. Be-
fore the boat left, Harry saw the boy hobbling up to
the house with but one shoe on, for they had not
been able to make the dog understand that he was
expected to dive for the one tossed out to him.
The pretty pavilion standing on the bank of the
lake, within the line of tall trees, with groups of
ladies in delicately tinted dresses standing about or
sitting on the grassy banks, shone down on the
water like some fairy picture. Harry was mainly
interested in the name, "Trout Pavilion," for
once or twice in his life he had done a little
trout-fishing-enough, however, to make him wish
for more. He thought of the beautiful rod and
the flies that were packed in his trunk, and the
pride and pleasure he had had in buying them.
He did not quite understand whether trout were to
be looked for in the lake or in the brooks, and he




would not have asked about it for the world; but
he resolved to try the lake on the first opportunity.
Anne tried hard to interest him in the beautiful
scenery, but just now he could think only of good
places to fish from. Shelving Rock, stretching out
along the lake, looked like good fishing-ground,
and he rather wondered at seeing so many people
fishing from boats.
The shores were dotted with tents and tiny cot-
tages, that seemed to swarm with people. Their
flags looked like blossoms among the leaves. Boats
darted in and out of every ntok in the rocky shores,
and from among the islands that were' covered
with t,: i,,,1 -Ii. poplars and fragrant cedars. They
swarmed along the steamer's track, and were sup-
plied with ice, milk, fish, bread, and mail-matter
by the boat-steward. The steamer's whistle was


summer. The stony desert of the city streets, the
methodical school-drill, the constraint within known
lines of city life had drifted so far into the past
that they seemed to them both but a vague, hazy
memory compared with the present, vivid with
sunshine, sweet airs from evergreen woods, and
the sheen of crystal water.
After dinner, which proved a pleasant occasion,
as Mamma liked her rooms, and the children
were in high spirits, Harry fished his rod out
of his trunk, and, with Anne's help, arranged his
lines for use. Just then, he was struck with a sud-
den pang of remorse. It had not occurred to him
before, but he remembered that a good many of
the boats he had seen held boys, no older than
himself, who had young girls fishing with them-
evidently brothers and sisters.


blown every few minutes, and it was generally
the signal for some boat that lay in waiting some-
where near. Young girls in gay flannel dresses,
or boys with bare legs and arms and the broadest of
hats, brought the letters and empty milk-cans from
their camp. There were small cannon mounted
on a hillock on the shore, and the girls fired a
salute as the boat passed. It seemed a general
holiday. Everything and everybody was enjoying
the golden summer days. Even the leaves on the
trees seemed to rustle happily on their stems, and
the little puffs of wind that roughened long
streaks of the silvery lake and made them look a
steely blue, wandered aimlessly about, as if in the
general enjoyment they too had a share. Long be-
fore they reached French Point, Harry and Anne
had entered into the very spirit of a Lake George

"Anne," said he, "I must go down into the
office; I wont be gone five minutes."
He came back silent and preoccupied. He could
send an order to town for fishing-tackle, but could
not get it until the next day, and he was determined
to try the lake early in the morning.
After the tackle, he must secure his boat; so he
took Anne to the wharf, and they climbed in and
out of every one, tried the seats, and inspected the
oars carefully.
One of the boys playing about on the beach
came and looked at them with a knowing smirk
on his sunburnt face. Seeing Harry pause at a
boat with a rather broad stern-seat, with the name
"Fred" painted above it, he could not restrain
himself, but burst out:
Oh, I wouldn't take that, if I were you. I took



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it once because my name 's Fred; but it hangs back
so in the water that it is very hard to row."
"What ails it?" asked Harry.
"I don't know, I'm sure, but the man said it

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'5- a.

_________ *

'hogged'; whatever that means I can't say, but
I know it seems as if it touched bottom all the
Have you a boat? inquired Harry.
Yes, that one with the pink-tipped oars is
mine. It is the 'Anne.'"
"Oh," said Harry, "I should like that. That




is my sister's name," and he looked at Anne, who
blushed when Fred took off his rather rusty straw
hat and made her a bow.
"You might have it- if Papa had not taken it
for the month; but there are others just as good.
Pick out one, and enter your name for it, and then
I should like to have you and your sister try mine.
I 'm going fishing over toward the other shore."
Harry looked the boats over once more, and
finally took the one Anne liked best. It was named
the Susan," to which some school-boy had added
a "Jane" in straggling red chalk letters, so that
it read "Susan Jane." Harry and Fred laughed at
it, but Anne tried to wipe it off with her handker-
"No use, Miss Anne," said Fred. I've seen it
tried before, and it wont come off."
What do you catch the most of?" asked Harry,
as though he had but to choose the fish he wished
for, and catch.them.
Perch mostly, and sometimes bass and pickerel.
It is the best time in the season for pouts, too; but
they are ugly things to handle, though they are
nice eating. I '11 get my bait now and take you
over, if you will go."
Very well; I will see about the boats first."
Harry was ashamed to say, "I will ask my
mother," for he felt himself at the age of fourteen
very tall and old, and he thought he ought to be
able to go fishing without asking permission. How-
ever, his sense of honor was his strongest trait, and
he went at once and told his mother about the boat
and the invitation. Anne, with a keener instinct
as to what her mother would most approve, enlarged
somewhat on Fred's good manners, and the result
was a cordial permission to go fishing with his new
When they got down to the boat, Harry found
that some cushions and three kettles of bait had
been put in, and he remembered with some chagrin
that poor Anne had no tackle. He had not thought,
when at home, of a girl fishing; but here the girls
had as many privileges as their brothers, and he
was ashamed of his carelessness. He was resolved,
too, that Anne should have a nice dark flannel
dress, so that she could go about without trembling
for her skirts and sister Marie's reproof for a stain
or a water-splash.
Fred then rowed them over quickly to his fishing-
Harry'was a long time in getting out his rod,
in order to see what Fred would do; then he
followed him as nearly as possible in all things.
Anne watched their floats and the neighboring
boats till she singled out a pale green one that
seemed to be getting all the fish. It made her
nervous to see Harry's fingers pricked till they bled


by the two or three pouts that he caught, but with
Fred's help he presently learned to unhook them
more skillfully. Still, they were not getting many
fish, and Fred put them nearer the green boat, in
which they found their friend Mr. Jones. He was
glad to see them, shook hands cordially, and in-
quired after Harry's head. Five minutes later,
Anne found herself in the green boat, dropping a
coil of line into the water, under Mr. Jones's in-
struction. Anne had never fished before, and
she needed all her life-long habits of prompt
obedience to keep her from rising in the boat and
becoming wildly excited when an active fish ran
away with her line. It darted madly about, nowf
on this side, then on that, shooting off like an
arrow, flinging itself at last quite out of the water,
before she lifted it over the side of the boat, doing
it all at Mr. Jones's quiet dictation.
Hurrah for Anne!" shouted Harry and his
friend, and they pulled over to inspect the prize.
Harry's elation knew no bounds when he found
that it was a trout, and a heavy one at that. Mr.
Jones thought it would weigh five pounds, and he
complimented Anne on her coolness and skill.
Poor Anne Her hands certainly trembled very
much, and she wondered more and more bow she
ever got the fish into the boat. Harry and Fred
did not waste much time talking about it, but hur-
ried their lines over the side, and waited impa-
tiently for the almost imperceptible signal from
below that a fish was taking the bait.
Twice Fred lost a fish, and then caught a small
trout. Anne caught nothing more, and Harry

began to feel hot and flurried over his lack of
success, when the signal' came so suddenly as to
almost upset his usual calmness.
"Go slow, or you '11 lose him! Fred shouted.
It seemed a long time to Harry, but a delicious
time, too, before his fish lay glistening before him

in the bottom of the boat, and he could feast his
eyes on it and wish that his father was there to see
it. So much absorbed was he, that he did not
see nor hear another boat coming up with them,
until its inmate exclaimed, "My! but that 's a
bouncer! And Anne cried out in unselfish glee,
"Hurrah Harry has beaten me."
Then the happy young people came back to
the Point, for Fred enjoyed their success almost as
much as if it had been his own. Next came the
exhibition to Mamma and sister Marie, and the tri-
umphal procession to the kitchen to hand the fish
over to cook to be weighed and dressed, so that
they might have them for tea and breakfast.
In the meantime, Mamma had discovered that
she knew of Fred's family. They were the Lelands,
of Fairton, and she told Harry to send Mr. and
Mrs. Leland a plate of fish from their own table,
which led to further acquaintance and much
pleasure for Anne and the two boys.
Anne told her mother that her fish was caught
from Mr. Jones's boat, and with his tackle. She
at first seemed to be somewhat vexed that Anne
should have allowed herself to be indebted for so
much attention to a perfect stranger; but when she
learned that Mr. Jones was staying at a neighbor-
ing hotel, she made no further remark.
The next morning, Fred and Harry got up early
and went out to catch pouts. The sun had not
risen, and the great mountains that nestle so
closely on all sides of the beautiful lake wore
the loveliest garbs of purple and gold. Light
scarfs of lace-like mist floated across their tops.
The wood-duck led out her brood in the shadows
of the rocks, and the great northern diver called
his mate in the far-off, plaintive voice that, once
heard, can never be forgotten. The lake lay still
before them, black in shadow, streaked with steely
blue where the brightening sky was reflected on
the placid water. The two boys laid down their
oars when they reached their fishing-ground, and
sat a moment silent, looking and listening.
This is glorious," said Harry at last. I wish
it would last forever."
So do I," said Fred; I would fish every day."
The word fish recalled them to the business of
the morning, and they drew their boats away from
each other and put out their lines.
In the meantime, Anne, who was awakened by
Harry's going out, had risen and dressed, and
went out to look at the sky and the mountains.
She could see the boats and the flash of water
from the oars, as they rose and fell. A bittern in
some moist hollow near by called to his mate, and
the kingfisher's clanging cry came from some tall
old trees beside the lake. A bustling robin, that
had already given its brood their breakfast, came




down in the grass on the lawn for a bath, and
fluttered its feathers, and rolled about in the dew,
until it was thoroughly wet; then flew up and
began to dry itself, with many cunning motions
and twirling of rustling wings. The swallows flew
in and out of the barn, squeaking and twittering,
and sweeping over the trees and down on the lake,
dipping here and there a wing, and then whirling
back again, until Anne forgot, in watching them,
that she lived in a world where breakfasts and
dinners were occasions which well-behaved young
people were expected to remember.
Several happy days had gone 'by, when Mrs.
Hadley and the children were invited by the Le-
lards to share in a picnic at the Narrows. They
had hired a large sail-boat, and would land some-
where and have lunch. Fred and Harry could tie
their boats behind if they wished, and then row
about when they reached the picnic ground. The
weather was hot, but when once fairly upon the
water the breeze that wafted them smoothly along
made a delicious coolness in the air. The lake
was alive with saucy little steamers, sail and row
boats, their gay bunting and the brilliant-colored
dresses of their occupants shining in the sun. The
mountains in the distance were faintly tinged with
purple, while the nearer rocks glowed in blended
hues of russet and gold.
The young people were happy. They sang and
whistled to the birds, they clapped their hands,
hurrahed, and waved their handkerchiefs by way
of returning the salutes of the camps they passed.

dodging in and out of all sorts of queer places,
sometimes so close to the shore that they could
look into pleasant camps and see bits of country
roads, where carriages, toiling over the rocks or
through the sand, made their own easy sailing-
boat seem more delightful, until they reached a spot
.which seemed to be the very place for their picnic.
The two boys carried the party ashore in their
small boats; They brought out the baskets, gath-
ered sticks for their gypsy fire, and then went down
to the beach to hunt for periwinkles and to catch
crickets for bait.
Harry called them to .dinner with a fish-horn.
It was the merriest dinner they had ever eaten,
and though they had laughed until they were
tired, they none the less enjoyed the sail back to
the hotel above, where they were to join another
party going to French Point.
Every wind that blew was favorable, and almost
too soon they swept up to the place where their
boat was waiting for them. It was a small steam-
er, and had been whistling frantically for some
minutes. They threw a line on board the Lelands'
boat, and away they went across the lake. Sailing
was well enough, but being towed was a new
experience, and Fred enjoyed it to the utmost; and
when they had nearly reached the other shore,
he wished to have Harry and Anne sit near him.
As Harry was helping Anne over, he tripped on
a rope, and in falling gave her such a pull that they
both fell head foremost into the dark water. Their
mother's cry of distress hardly quivered on the air

.' -. S *
- -.- -X : -

- Y '..

The little steamers whistled to them, and every- before there was a splash from the steamer. Some-
body appeared to be glad with everybody else. body had gone over after them. Fred jumped into
The sail was so delightful that the young people his boat, and some one cast him loose, while the
begged for more, and the boat went on up toward steamer turned slowly about and lay head on, ready
Shelving Rock, creeping between the islands, and to go in any direction All eyes were turned toward







the bubbling wake of the "Water Witch to see
the children rise.
Anne appeared first. Fred rowed with might
and main to reach her, and the swimmer beat the
water with strong arms. Just as poor Harry came
up, groping about for her with both hands while
he gasped for breath, she sank out of sight again.
Fred forged ahead, and, hooking his feet under
a stationary seat, lay far over the side, waiting
breathlessly for the child to come in sight. In
the meantime the swimmer had reached Harry,
and was supporting him until he could take breath,
while gasping over and over : I tried to find her
-I tried so hard to find her!"
The poor mother moaned, and wrung her hands,
not daring to look on. If she had, she would have
seen Fred lean suddenly far out and plunge his
head and arms into the water, rising again with
Anne's pretty, white face close to his. As he after-
ward told Harry privately, it was like something
done in a dream. He had clutched her dress, and
then had grasped both arms.
Fred was able to hold his precious burden until
Harry and his preserver came and lifted her into
the boat, into which they also climbed, and rowed
away with all their might to the hotel at the Point,
not far off, while the rest of the party came on
behind.as fast as possible.:
Blankets and hot-water bottles were hurried out,
and before very long Anne opened her eyes upon
a rather misty scene. Unknown faces peered at her
through the mist, and hollow voices sounded in
her ears; but presently all faded slowly out of sight
and hearing, and she had a little sleep.

As soon as it was possible to take Anne away
from Harry, he was sent to his room to change his
wet clothes. He would not consent to leave her
until he was assured that she was alive and would
soon be all right. By the time he had got on some
dry clothes, Fred came to the door with his father
and Mr. Jones, and Harry discovered that his res-
cuer was no other than his friend of the fort.
They clasped hands with an earnest look into each
other's eyes. Fred had a sudden call to the win-
dow, and Mr. Leland said smilingly: "Harry, you
seem to know this gentleman. I'm glad you have
found him out, for I have known him a long time.
We knew each other when we were boys, like you
and Fred. We went to college together, and almost
every summer we meet here at Lake George."
Mamma and sister Marie stepped forward and
heartily thanked the stranger for his noble kind-
ness to them, to which he replied with a blush that
showed even through his tanned cheek; and then
honest, cordial little Anne ran up to him and
threw her arms about his neck, exclaiming: "Dear
John Jones, I think you are just splendid! at
which everybody laughed, especially Mr. Leland,
who, as they went out of the door together, patted
his friend's shoulder, and said smilingly: "John
Jones, indeed! Since when has my old chum, Rob
Hamilton, become John Jones?"
I should like to tell you more about this pleasant
summer trip, but must content myself with saying
that all the rest of the days at Lake George were
golden days, that made their lives brighter and
happier, and the very memory of them filled the
winter with sunshine.





BY H. H. CLARK, U. S. N.

"--- I I

JOE BENTLY lived on a cattle-farm in the interior
of one of the New England States. His rough,
wild life had developed in him great physical
strength and endurance. At sixteen he grew tired
of his surroundings, and havingheard in the mean-
time of the naval apprentice system, made up his
mind that the deck of a man-of-war would afford
much larger scope for his talents and be vastly
more congenial to his tastes. Having obtained
his father's consent, at the end of the month he
was an apprentice on board the "Minnesota,"
lying in dock at the Brooklyn Navy Yard.
After a year spent in that great vessel, learning
the drills and exercises of a man-of-war, he, with
about a hundred others, was found qualified for a
cruise at sea. Early in March, he was detailed to
make a summer cruise in the Mediterranean. His
ship, a fine sloop-of-war, sailed late in the same
month for Lisbon.
Never did vessel make a finer voyage. In
nineteen days, driven by a moderate westerly gale,
she brought the heights of Cintra, on the Portu-
guese coast, in full view. In the sunlight they
stood out like a mountain of gold against the sky.
Nearly all the boys had suffered from sea-sick-
ness, and when they saw land once more they felt
somewhat as Columbus did when he knelt and
kissed the soil of San Salvador. In the course of
the day, the ship stood up the Tagus under full
canvas. The beautiful banks seemed to them like
a panorama of Paradise. This noble river, with its

emerald banks, crowned with ancient windmills,
quaint castles, and glittering palaces, has been for
centuries the delight of poets and travelers, and
after a passage across the stormy Atlantic it falls
upon the eye with an indescribable charm.
The moment a man-of-war comes to anchor in a
foreign port, all sorts of people throng about her,
all clamorous for patronage. There are washer-
women, bumboatmen, theatrical agents, guides,
musicians-each setting forth his particular at-
tractions in a very animated manner. Among the
people who came on board was a man who es-
pecially interested Joe. He brought a-flaming
advertisement of a bull-fight, which he undertook
to explain in broken English. As nearly as Joe
could make out, there was to be, during the follow-
ing Easter week, a great bull-fight. The wildest
bulls had been brought from Andalusia, a large
number of horses from the royal stables were to be
in the ring, the queen herself would preside and
distribute the favors, and, in short, it was to be the
grandest bull-fight seen in Portugal for many years.
All this had a peculiar fascination for Joe. In all
his allusions to Portugal and Spain, he had declared
to the boys that the only thing he cared to see in
those countries was a bull-fight.
The bull-fights of Portugal are different from
those of Spain in several important particulars.
At every such fight in Spain, where this cruel sport
is conducted in the most barbarous manner, many
horses are killed, and sometimes men, too, fall
victims, and at the close of the fight the bull is
dispatched by the matador, or bull-killer. The law
of Portugal does not allow the bull to be killed, and
his horns are always padded, or tipped with brass,
so that he can not gore the horses. Once in a
while, however, a man is killed, in spite of this
precaution. The excitement is intense, as the ob-
ject is to drive or drag the bull from the inclosure.
In the general liberty-list of the ship some of the
boys were always included, and Joe was rejoiced to
find his name among the fortunate number on the
day of the fight. Long before the hour, he went
ashore and walked impatiently about the city.
At last, with several of his comrades, he started
for the bull-ring. Thousands, bedecked in gay col-
ors, thronged the great highway. Carriages, bear-
ing the coats of arms of noble families, rolled along,
drawn by horses in richly ornamented harness, fol-

*See "Letter-box."






lowed by postilions in' livery of many hues. Had
Joe not known that all this display was over a bull-
fight, he would have thought that it was coronation
day, or that a king was coming from some foreign
capital to visit the country, and the people were
going forth to welcome him.
At the ring he had to wait long, with a densely
packed, impatient crowd, for admission. Finally
the doors were thrown open, and there was a
grand rush for seats. Joe succeeded in getting
one of the best. Whoever knew an American
boy abroad who failed in getting a good seat, if left
to his own ingenuity and activity?
Joe's position commanded a full view of every
part of the pavilion. He thought that all Lisbon
must be there, from the barefooted water-carriers
to the royal family. All waited in suspense for
the queen to enter the royal box. Presently she
appeared, and was greeted by the audience with
repeated cries of applause. She waved her hand-
kerchief, there was a grand burst of music, and
an officer of the royal household, followed by a
troop of riders dressed in brilliant and fantastic
costumes, mounted on horses in rich housings, gal-
loped into the ring. After they had gracefully
saluted the court and the public, they dashed with
a great flourish of lances to their several stations.
A large number of campinas, or bull-fighters, simi-
larly dressed, but unmounted, followed them into
the ring, each bearing a gaudy flag or mantle.
The public imagination was highly wrought up
by this display. Joe now saw a man step forward

and quickly pull open a little door. Standing one
side, he shook a red flag violently in the aperture,
and in an instant a noble bull bounded into the
ring. For a moment he stood regarding the
vast audience with astonishment and anger. Joe
thought he never before had seen so beautiful an ani-
mal. He was as lithe and graceful as a deer, and
as he pawed the ground and lashed his sides furi-
ously with his tail, Joe's admiration burst into an
enthusiastic shout. The bull's debut had been so
handsomely made that the audience cheered him
Already the campinos had begun their feats of
agility and daring. The air was aglow with their
waving mantles and flags. Not only did they
endeavor to exhibit their own bravery, but also
to infuriate the bull for the mounted men, who as
yet remained inactive. So violently did the bull
charge upon them that in a few minutes nearly
every one of them had vaulted over the palings.
For an instant, the bull was master of the ring.
Joe's excitement increased. Up to the present
moment his sympathy was with the bull. He
wished that he were astride one of those mag-
nificent horses, or that he was even afoot in the
ring; he would show the audience some sport.
Led by the royal officer, the knight-errant of
the occasion, each rider had now put spurs to his
horse, and they were all executing a series of quick
evolutions preparatory to a direct attack upon the
bull. Horses and riders were so admirably trained
that even the bull looked as if he were charmed by
the exhibition. The riders now began severally to
confront the bull and provoke his wrath' by sharp
thrusts of their lances. Thus insulted and wounded,
he sprang at his tormentors with such force that
they were barely able to evade his stroke by the
utmost dexterity and promptness. One fine horse
was at length struck with such violence that, in
rearing, he lost his balance and fell heavily to the
ground. Both the horse and his rider lay for a
moment stunned, when they were assisted from the
ring. This being repeated, the queen gave orders
for the horsemen to withdraw, as the royal horses
were too valuable to be injured in this manner.
The programme with the first bull was nearly
completed. The band struck up a lively air, and
several men came in to compete in single com-
bats for the honors of the day. One of them,
wrapped in a crimson cape, stationed himself in
a chair. The bull immediately tossed the chair
many feet into the air, the occupant barely saving
himself from a mortifying fall. Another man
stood on his hands, shaking a bright cloth with his
teeth. He recovered his feet within a few inches
of the bull as he rushed madly past.
The most perilous feat of the bull-ring was now




attempted. A young man, covered with silver
lace hung all over with little bells, undertook to
throw himself between the bull's horns and cling
to them till the bull should be sufficiently exhausted
to be overpowered and taken from the ring. He
courageously made the attempt, but unhappily
missed his aim and fell directly in front of the
enraged animal.
At this moment of terrible suspense, moreover,
Joe suddenly saw what had not yet been discov-
ered by any one else--that the bull had lost the
padding from one of his horns. He stood over

temerity. An Englishman present, fearing for the
life of the unpracticed lad, cried out, Come
back!" Several Americans shouted for him to
leave the ring. But Joe had made the venture,
and he was not going to be frightened from the
ring. On the farm at home he had conquered
many a steer quite as wild and powerful as even
this maddened bull.
He was conscious that thousands of eyes were
watching him with eager interest; but without
hesitation he advanced toward the bull, coolly
placing himself so that with one hand he could


the young man, his eyes glaring and his whole
attitude one of furious anger. He refused to be
diverted by the colors glancing all around him,
and he seemed to be considering whether he
should trample on his victim or pierce him with the
naked horn. The young man did not dare to
move, for he was aware that the bull possessed
every advantage. The excitement of the audi-
ence was at its highest point, and the overwrought
feelings of our hero would allow him to retain his
seat no longer.
With the sprightliness of a sailor-boy he leaped
the paling. Everybody was astonished at his

grasp the bull's horn, while with the other he could
seize his shaggy mane. The young man, mean-
while, had leaped to his feet and retired to a safe
position, leaving Joe to fight the bull alone. Joe's
mode of attack had never before been seen in
Portugal, and it appeared the extreme of folly. A
murmur of remonstrance was heard in every part
of the audience. Many cried out for the cam'inos
to rush in and rescue the reckless youth. The bull
did not seem to appreciate the turn events had
taken, and for a moment stood motionless. A
strange silence, almost ominous of defeat to our
hero, settled upon the pavilion. It was a thrilling






S GRASSHOPPER GOGGLEYES, down in the clover,
Drearily cries: "Well! I've traveled all over,
High as the clover-tops, down to the ground;
Rest for my weary legs never I 've found.
Over field and through meadow, up hill and down
There's a fat little foot coming just at, my tail,
And the shrill little voice of that fat little Joe
Exclaims: 'Jump, Mr. Grasshopper, don't be so
Jump high and low!
Hop, Mr. Grasshopper-get up and go!'"

Would Joe find it pleasant, I 'd just like to know,
If I suddenly stretched, and, beginning to grow,
Grew bigger, and bigger, and bigger-just so-
And then, gently extending my little green toe,
S gayly cried out: 'Come, get up, little Joe?
Jump, little fat boy, and don't be so slow,
Jump high and low!
.Hop, little fat boy-get up and go!'"




I s ^ ^y N i^T*


scene-the brave sailor boy apparently at the
mercy of the furious animal, and thousands of
spectators looking on with breathless interest.
Suddenly the bull recovered himself, and, with
an angry flaunt of his head, renewed hostilities.
Joe quickly found it more difficult clinging to the
bull's slippery horn than to a yard-arm in a tem-
pest; but he was determined to be captain of this
lively craft. Somehow he felt that the honor of
his country depended upon his victory.
As a good seaman favors his ship in a hurri-
cane, so Joe resolved to humor the bull. He
realized that he must take care of his strength, for
he would need it all before he got through with his
antagonist. Now the bull began to exhibit his
wrath. He writhed, and hooked, and stamped.
One instant the audience expected to see poor Joe
dangling from his horns, and the next trampled
helpless beneath his feet. But Joe clung as he
would cling to a life-line in a fearful surf. During
the intervals of the bull's violence, as in the water
on its ebb, he struck gallantly upon his feet. Each
time he did so, cries of Bravo bravo rent the
air. The bull continued to put forth still greater
power. He plunged and tore around the ring.
Alternately he jerked and swung Joe from his
feet, and fairly spun him through the air. The
pavilion tossed, and reeled, and whirled before
Joe's giddy sight. Round and round flew the bull
as in a race for life. Several times he completed
the circuit of the ring; a circle of dust rose from
his track and hung over it like a wreath of smoke.

How Joe held on! He feared he could not en-
dure the shock and strain for a minute longer, and
he dreaded to let go. He began to lament his
rashness. But all at once the bull's speed slack-
ened. Joe felt a thrill of gratitude as his feet once
more touched the ground. He was tired of flying,
and was very glad to run. The bull, convinced
that he could not liberate his horn from Joe's un-
yielding grip, came to a halt, and with disappointed
anger began to paw the ground. Joe had longed
for this advantage, which, strange to say, a bull
seldom gives till toward the close of a fight, and
he sprang directly in front of him and firmly
grasped both his horns. Bravo! bravo !" rent the
air. Joe braced himself and waited, and when the
bull threw his foot high in the air with its little
cloud of dust, by a quick, powerful movement, Joe
twisted his head to one side so strongly that the
fierce animal was thrown off his balance, and fell
heavily upon his side.
A score of men rushed in to hold him down
until he should be secured; then he was rolled
and taken triumphantly from the ring. Joe was
almost deafened by the applause. He suddenly
found himself a hero in the estimation of the audi-
ence, and was overwhelmed by the outbursts of
enthusiasm. He was not allowed to leave the ring
until he had been led to the royal box, where the
queen, with her own hand, passed him a beautiful
bouquet. She also extended to him an invitation
to come to the palace, where she herself would re-
ceive the brave American boy.



ARE you so doubtful, poor Nanette?
So many miles to travel yet!
Your chin within your little hand,
Far gazing o'er the darkening land,

Where, like a dream, the village shows
Against the sunset's golden rose;
And day is done, and night begun-
Are you so tired, little one?

And grandmother so weary, too?
Fast comes the dark-what will you do?
Already .creeps the twilight down
Above the plain so bare and brown.

Though wide the barren loneliness,
And fear grows more and hope grows less,

And o'er the roofs and towers so far
Trembles the timid evening star,

The village from the fallen sun
Is beckoning, now the day is done,
With many a cheerful twinkling light,
Bright sparkling through the gloom of night.

And every sparkle calls to you:
"Cheer up Press on through dusk and dew
Welcome is waiting you, and rest;
You shall be comforted and blest."

Poor grandmother and poor Nanette!
To-morrow morn you shall forget,
'Mid voices kind and faces dear,
How sad the long way seemed, and drear.







: I 4!~l
r~.I~UY'n~8' ~ 9





--- C~--~

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FOR an instant Mr. Reed was too astonished to
Tell me," implored Donald, is n't Dorothy
my sister ?"
Hush hush was the hurried response.
" She '11 hear you "
Is she or not ? insisted Donald, his eyes still
fixed on his uncle's face. It seemed to him that he
had caught the words, She is." He could not be
certain, but he stepped hopefully forward and laid
his hand upon Mr. Reed's shoulder.
She is he exclaimed joyfully, bending over
till their faces almost met. "I knew it! Why
did n't you tell me the fellow lied ? "
"Who? What fellow?"
"First, Uncle--s she or not? I must know."

Mr. Reed glanced toward the door, to be sure
that it was closed.
"Oh, Uncle, do answer my question."
Yes, my boy I think that is, I trust she is.
Oh, Donald," cried Mr. Reed, leaning upon the
table and burying his face in his hands, "I do
not know myself I "
What don't you know, Uncle ? said a merry
voice outside, followed immediately by a light rap
at the door. May I come in ?"
Certainly," said Mr. Reed, rising. But Don
was first. He almost caught Dorry in his arms as
she- entered.
Well! she exclaimed, I thought I 'd never
get dressed. But where 's the sense of shutting
yourselves in here, when it 's so beautiful outside
after the shower ? It 's the grandest sunset I ever
saw. Do come and look at it!"
With these words, and taking an arm of each,
she playfully led them from the room, out to the

* Copyright, 1881, by Mary Mapes Dodge.. All rights reserved.




piazza, where they could see the glory of the
western sky.
"Is n't it wonderful?" she went on, as they
stood looking over the glowing lake. See, there's
a splendid, big purple cloud with a golden edge for
you, Uncle, and those two little ones alongside are
for Don and me. Oh!" she laughed, clapping her
hands, "they're twins, Don, like ourselves; what
a nice time they're having together! Now, they
are separating-further and further apart-and
yours is breaking up too, Uncle. Well, I do
declare," she added, suddenly turning to look at
her companions, I never saw such a pair of dole-
ful faces in all my life !"
In all your life ?" echoed her uncle, trying to
laugh carelessly, and wishing to divert her atten-
tion from Donald.
Yes, in all my life-all our life I might say-
and it is n't such a very short life either. I've learned
ever so many things in it, I'd have you know, and
not all of them from school-books, by any means."
Well, what have you learned, my girl ? "
"Why, as if I could tell it all in a minute It
would take volumes, as the story-tellers say. I '11
tell you one thing, though, that I've found out for
certain" (dropping a little courtesy): "I've the
nicest, splendidest brother ever a girl had, and the
best uncle."
With these words, Dorothy, raising herself on
tiptoe, smilingly caught her uncle's face with both
hands and kissed him.
"Now, Don," she added, "what say you to a
race to the front gate before supper ? Watch can
try, too, and Uncle shall see which Why,
where is Don? When did he run off?"
"I '11 find him," said Uncle George, passing her
quickly and reaching his study before Dorry had
recovered from her surprise. He had seen Donald
hasten into the house, unable to restrain the feelings
called up by Dorry's allusion to the clouds, and
now Mr. Reed, too, felt that he could bear her un-
suspecting playfulness no longer.
Dorry stood a few seconds, half puzzled, half
amused at their sudden desertion of her, when
sounds of approaching wheels caught her atten-
tion. Turning, she saw Josie Manning in a new
rockaway, driven by Mr. Michael McSwiver, com-
ing toward the house.
Oh, Dorothy 1" Josie called out, before Michael
had brought the fine gray steed to a halt; "can
you come and take supper with me? I drove over
on purpose, and I 've some beautiful lichens to
show you. Six of us girls went out moss-hunting
before the shower. So sorry you were not with us!"
"Oh, I don't think I can," hesitated Dorry.
"Donald and I have been away all day. Can't
you stay here with us ?"
VOL. IX.-52.

"Im-possible," was Josie's emphatic reply.
"Mother will wait for me-Oh, what a noble
fellow! So this is Watch? Ed Tyler told me
about him."
SHere Josie, reaching out her arm, leaned for-
ward to pat the shaggy head of a beautiful New-
foundland, that, with his paws on the edge of the
rockaway, was trying to express his approbation
of Josie as a friend of the family.
"Yes, this is our new dog. Is n't he handsome?
Such a swimmer, too You ought to see him leap
into the lake to bring back sticks. Here, Watch! "
But Watch would not leave the visitor. Good
fellow," said Josie, laughingly, still stroking his
large, silky head. I admire your taste. But I
must be off. I do wish you 'd come with me, Dot.
Go and ask your uncle," she coaxed; Michael
will bring you home early."
Here Mr. McSwiver, without turning his face,
touched the rim of his hat gravely.
"Well, I '11 see," said Dorothy, as she ran into
the house.
To her surprise, Mr. Reed gave a ready consent.
"Shall I really go? she asked, hardly satisfied.
"Where is Donald? "
He is readying himself for supper, I think,
Miss," said Kassy, the housemaid, who happened
to pass at that moment. I saw him going into
his room."
"But you look tired, Uncle dear. Suppose I
don't go this time."
Tired? not a bit. Never better, Dot. There,
get your hat, my girl, and don't keep Josie wait-
ing any longer."
Well, good-bye, then. Tell Don, please, I 've
gone to Josie's-Oh, and Josie and I would like
to have him come over after tea. He need n't,
though, if he feels very tired, for Josie says Michael
can bring me home."
"Very well, my dear. If Donald is not there
by half-past nine o'clock, do not expect him.
Wait, I '11 escort you to the carriage."



"COME in here, Don," said Uncle George,
after the quiet supper, slowly leading the way to
his study; "we can have no better opportunity
than this for our talk. But, first tell me-Who
was the 'fellow' you mentioned? Where was he?
Did Dorry see him?"
Donald, assuring his uncle that Dorry had not
recognized the man, told all the particulars of the
interview at Vanbogen's, and of Jack's timely
appearance and Slade's beating.




Disturbed, even angry, as Mr. Reed was at hear-
ing this unwelcome news, he could not resist Don-
ald's persistent, resolute desire that the present hour
should be given to the main question concerning

Twilight slowly faded, and the room grew darker
as they sat there, until at last they scarcely could
see each other's faces. Then they moved nearer
to the open window, conversing in a low tone, as
star after star came softly into view.
Donald's large, wistful eyes sometimes turned to
look toward the front gate, through which Dorry
had passed, though he gave close attention to every
word Mr. Reed uttered.
It was a strange story; but it need not all be
repeated here. Suffice it to say, at last Donald
learned his uncle's secret, and understood the many
unaccountable moods that heretofore had perplexed
Dorry and himself.
What wonder that Mr. George had been troubled,
and had sometimes shown signs of irritation! For
nearly fifteen years he had suffered from peculiar
suspense and armoyance, because, while he be-
lieved Dorothy to be his own niece, he could not
ascertain the fact to his complete satisfaction. To
make matters worse, the young girl unconsciously
increased his perplexity by sometimes evincing
traits which well might be inherited from his
brother Wolcott, and oftener in numberless little
ways so reminding him of his adopted sister Kate
in her early girlhood, that his doubts would gain
new power to torment him.
All he had been able to find out definitely was
that, in the autumn of 1859, in accordance with his
instructions, Mrs. Wolcott Reed, his brother's
widow, with her twin babies, a boy and girl of six
weeks, and their nurse, had sailed from Europe,
in company with Kate and her husband, George
Robertson, who had with them their own little
daughter Delia, a baby of about the same age as
the twins.
When about seven days out, the steamer had
been caught in a fog, and, going too near the
treacherous coast of Newfoundland, had in the
night suddenly encountered a sunken rock. The
violence of the shock aroused every one on board.
There was a rush for the pumps, but they were of
no use-the vessel had already begun to sink.
Then followed a terrible scene. Men and women
rushed wildly about, vainly calling for those belong-
ing to them. Parents and their children were
separated in the darkness--nearly every one,
officers and crew alike, too panic-stricken to act in
concert. In the distracting terror of the occasion,
there was barely time to lower the steamer's boats.
Several of these were dangerously overloaded;

one, indeed, was so crowded that it was swamped
instantly. The remaining boats soon were sepa-
rated, and in the darkness and tumult their crews
were able to pick up but a few of the poor creat-
ures who were struggling with the waves.
Two of the three babies, a boy and a girl, had
been rescued, as we already know, by the efforts
of one of the crew, Sailor Jack, known to his com-
rades as Jack Burton. He had just succeeded in
getting into one of the boats, when he heard
through the tumult a wild cry from the deck
above him:
Save these helpless little ones Look out! I
must throw them "
"Aye, aye! Let 'em come!" shouted Jack in
response, and the next moment the babies, looking
like little black bundles, flew over the ship's side
one after the other, and were safely caught in
Jack's dexterous arms. Just in time, too, for the
men behind, him at once bent to the oars, in the
fear that the boat, getting too near the sinking
ship, was in danger of being ingulfed by it.
Against Jack's protesting shout of "There 's
another coming!-a woman!" the boat shot
away on the crest of a wave.
Hearing a helpless cry, Jack hastily flung off his
coat, thrust the babies into the arms of his com-
rades, shouting out: "Keep them safe for me,
Jack Burton It may be the mother. Wait for
me, mates !" and with a leap he plunged into the
Jack made gallant efforts for a time, but returning
alone, worn out with his fruitless exertions, he
was taken into the boat. If, after that, in the se-
vere cold, he remembered his jacket, it was only to
take real comfort in knowing that the little kids"
were wrapped in it safe and sound. In the dark-
ness and confusion he had not been able to see who
had thrown the babies to him, but the noble-
hearted sailor resolved to be faithful to his trust,
and never to lose sight of them until he could
leave them safe with some of their own kindred.
All night, in the bitter cold, the boat that carried
the two babies had tossed with the waves, the men
using their oars as well as they could, working
away from the rocks out to the open sea, and
hoping that daylight might reveal some passing
vessel. All, excepting the babies, suffered keenly;
these, wrapped from head to feet in the sailor's
jacket, and tucked in between the shivering women,
slept soundly, while their preserver, scorning even
in his drenched condition to feel the need of his
warm garment, did his best at the oars.
With the first streaks of dawn a speck ap-
peared on the horizon that at last proved to be the
"Cumberland," a fishing-vessel bound for New
York. Everything now depended upon being able




to attract her attention. One of the women, who
had on a large white woolen mantle, snatched it
off, begging the men to raise it as a signal of dis-
tress. As soon as practicable, they hoisted the
garment upon an oar, and, heavy and wet though it
was, waved it wildly in the air.
She 's seen us t cried Sailor Jack at last.
"Hooray She 's headin' straight for us "
And so she was.
Once safely on board, Sailor Jack had time to
reflect on his somewhat novel position-a jolly tar,
as he expressed it, with two helpless little kids to
take ashore as salvage. That the babies did not
now belong to him never entered his mind; they
were his twins, to be cared for and to keep, he in-
sisted, till the Cumberland" should touch shore;
and his to keep and care for ever after, unless some-
body with a better right and proof positive should
meet him in New York and claim them, or else
that some of their relatives should be saved in one
of the other boats.
So certain was he of his rights, that when the
captain's wife, who happened to be on board,
offered to care for the little creatures, he, concealing
his helplessness, accepted her kindness with a lordly
air and as though it were really a favor on his part.
"Them twins is Quality," he would say, "and I
can't have 'em meddled with till I find the grand
folks they belong to. Wash their leetle orphan
faces, you may-feed'em, you may-and keep 'em
warm, you may, but their leetle night-gownds and
petticuts an' caps has got to stay just as they are,
to identify 'em; and this ere gimcrack on the
leetle miss-gold it is, you may well say"
(touching the chain on the baby's neck admir-
ingly)-" this ere gimcrack likely 's got a legal
consequence to its folks, which I could n't and
would n't undertake to state."
Meantime the sailors would stand around, look-
ing reverently at the babies, until the kind-hearted
woman, with Jack's gracious permission, would
tenderly soothe the little ones to sleep.
Among the survivors of the wreck, none could
give much information concerning the babies.
Only two were women, and one of these lay ill in a
rough bunk through the remainder of the voyage,
raving in her fever of the brother who bent anx-
iously over her. (In her delirium, she imagined
that he had been drowned on that terrible night.)
Sailor Jack held the twins before her, but she took
no notice of them. Her brother knew nothing
about them or of any of the passengers. He had
been a fireman on the wrecked vessel, and scarcely
had been on deck from the hour of starting until
the moment of the wreck. The other rescued
woman had seen a tall nurse with two very young
infants in her lap, and a pale mother dressed in

black standing near them; and she remembered
hearing some one say that there was another mother
with a baby on board, and that the two mothers were
sisters or relatives of some kind, and that the one
with twins had recently become a widow. That
was all. Beyond vaguely wondering how any one
could think of taking such mites of humanity across
the ocean, she had given no more thought to them.
Of the men, hardly one had even known of the ex-
istence of the three wee passengers, the only babies
on board, as they had been very seldom taken on
deck. The two mothers were made so ill by the
voyage that they rarely left their state-rooms. Mr.
Robertson, Kate's husband, was known by sight to
all as a tall, handsome man, though very restless
and anxious-looking; but, being much devoted to
his wife and child, he had spoken to very few
persons on board the vessel.
Jack never wearied of making inquiries among
the survivors, but this was all he could find out.
He was shrewd enough, however, to ask them to
write their names and addresses for him personally,
so that, if the twins' people (as he called them) ever
were found, they could in turn communicate with
the survivors, as they naturally would want to in-
quire about the other baby and its poor father,
and the two mothers, one of which was a widow
in mourning' -poor soul! and the nurse-girl, all
drowned and gone."
Long weeks afterward, one other boat was heard
from-the only other one that was ever found. Its
freight of human beings, only seven in all, had
passed through great privation and danger, but
they finally had been taken aboard a steamer going
east. The list of persons saved in this boat had
been in due time received by Mr. Reed, who, after
careful investigation, at last ascertained to a cer-
tainty that they all were adults, and that neither
Mr. and Mrs. Robertson, nor Wolcott Reed's widow,
were of the number. He communicated in person
or by letter with all of them excepting one, and
that one was a woman, who was described as a tall,
dark-complexioned girl, a genteel servant, who had
been several times seen, as three of the men
declared, pacing up and down the deck of the ill-
fated vessel during the early part of its voyage,
carrying a "bundled-up baby in her arms. She
had given her name as Ellen Lee, had accepted
assistance from the ship's company, and finally she
had been traced by Mr. Reed's clerk, Henry
Wakeley, to an obscure boarding-house in Liver-
pool. Going there to see her, Mr. Wakeley had
been told that she was "out," and calling there
again, late on the same day, he learned that she
had paid her bill and "left for good," four hours
After that, all efforts to find her, both on the



part of the clerk and of Mr. Reed, had been una-
vailing; though to this day, as the latter assured
Donald, detectives in Liverpool and London had
her name and description as belonging to a person
"to be found."
"But do they know your address?" asked
Oh, yes, I shall be notified at once if any news
is heard of her; but after all these years there is
hardly a possibility of that. Ellen Lees are plenti-
ful enough. It is not an uncommon name, I find;
but that particular Ellen Lee seems to have van-
ished from the earth."



S Donald listened to his uncle
i by the study-window, on
that starlight evening, part
of the strange story was fa-
miliar to him ; many things
that he had heard from
Sailor Jack rose in his
-'7 memory and blended with
Mr. Reed's words. He
S needed only a hint of the
shipwreck to have the scene vividly before him.
He and Dorry had often heard of it and of their
first coming to Nestletown. They knew that
Uncle George had established his claim to the
babies very easily, as these and the one that
was lost were the only babies among the passen-
gers, and that he had brought them and Sailor
Jack home with him from New York; that Jack
had been induced to give up the sea and to
remain with Mr. Reed ever since; and that they,
the twins, had grown up together the happiest
brother and sister in that part of the country, until
the long, lank man had come to mar their happi-
ness, and Uncle had been mysteriously bothered,
and had seemed sometimes to be almost afraid of
Dorry. But now Donald learned of the doubts
that from the first had perplexed Mr. Reed; of the
repeated efforts that he had made to ascertain
which one of the three babies had been lost; how
he had been baffled again and again, until at last
he had given himself up to a dull hope that the
little girl who had become so dear was really his
brother's child, and joint heir to his and his
brother's estates; and how Eben Slade actually
had come to claim her, threatening to blight the
poor child with the discovery that she might per-
haps be his niece, Delia Robertson, and not
Dorothy Reed at all.
Poor Donald! Dorry had been so surely his

sister that until now he had taken his joy in her as
a matter of course-as a part of his existence,
bright, and necessary as light and air, and never
questioned. She was Dorry, not Delia-Delia,
the poor little cousin who was lost; certainly not.
She was Dorry and he was Donald. If she was
not Dorry, then who was he? Who was Uncle
George? Who were all the persons they knew,
and what did everything in life mean ?
No, he would not give her up--he could not.
Something within him resented the idea, then
scouted it, and finally set him up standing before
his uncle, so straight, so proud in his bearing, so
joyfully scornful of anything that threatened to
take his sister away from him, that Mr. George rose
also and waited for him to speak, as though
Donald's one word must settle the question for-
Well, my boy?"
Uncle, I am absolutely sure of it. Our Dorry
is Dorothy Reed-here with us alive and well, and
I mean to prove it "
God grant it, Donald! "
Well, Uncle, I must go now to bring my sister
home. Of course, I shall not tell her a word of
what has passed between us this evening. That
scoundrel to think of his intending to tell her that
she was his sister's child Poor Dot think of the
shock to her. Just suppose he had convinced her,
made her think that it was true, that it was her
duty to go with him, care for him, and all that-
Why, Uncle, with her spirit and high notions of
right, even you and I could n't have stopped her.;
she'd have gone with him, if it killed her "
"Donald!" exclaimed Mr. Reed, fiercely,
you 're talking nonsense "
So I am-sheer nonsense The man has n't
an argument in his favor. But, Uncle, there is a
great deal yet to be looked up. After Dot has
bidden us good-night and is fast asleep, may I not
come down here to the study again? Then you
can show me the things you were speaking of-
the pictures, the letters, the chain, the little clothes,
the hair, and everything-especially that list, you
know. We 'll go carefully over every point. There
must be proof somewhere."
Donald was so radiant with a glad confidence
that for an instant his uncle looked at him as one
inspired. Then sober thoughts returned; ob-
jections and arguments crowded into Mr. Reed's
mind, but he had no opportunity to utter them.
Donald clasped his uncle's hand warmly and was
off, bounding down the moon-flecked carriage-way,
the new dog leaping after him. Both apparently
were intent only on enjoying a brisk walk toward
the village, and on bringing Dorry home.
Dorry was very tired. Leaning upon Donald's




arm as they walked homeward-for they had de-
clined Mr. McSwiver's services-she had but little
to say, and that little was all about the strange
adventure at Vanbogen's.
"Who in the world was that man, Don?" and
then, without waiting for a reply, she continued:
"Do you know, after I started for home, I really
suspected that he was that horrid person-the
long, lank one, you know-come back again. I 'm
glad it was n't; but he may turn up yet, just as he
did before. Why does n't he stay with his own
people and not wander about like a lunatic? They
ought to take care of him, any way. Ugh! I
can't bear to think of that dreadful man. It gives
me cold shivers 1 "
"Then why do you think of him? suggested
Donald, with forced cheerfulness. Let us talk of
something else."
Very well. Let's talk--let's talk of -of- oh,
Don, I 'm so tired and sleepy! Suppose we don't
talk at all I "
"All right," he assented. And so in cordial
silence they stepped lightly along in the listening
night, to the great surprise of Watch, who at first
whined and capered by way of starting a conversa-
tion, and finally contented himself with exploring
every shadowed recess along the moonlit road, run-
ning through every opening that offered, waking
sleeping dogs in their kennels, and in fact taking
upon himself an astonishing amount of business for
a new-comer into the neighborhood, who naturally
would be excused from assuming entire charge of
Mr. Reed met Don and Dorry on the piazza.
Greetings and good-nights were soon over; and
before long, Dorry, in her sweet, sound sleep, for-
got alike the pleasures and adventures of the day.
Meantime, Mr. Reed and Donald were busily
engaged in examining old family ambrotypes,
papers, and various articles that, carefully hidden
in the uncle's secretary, had been saved all these.
years in the hope that they might furnish a clew
to Dorry's parentage, or perhaps prove that she
was, as Mr. Reed trusted, the daughter of his
brother Wolcott. To Donald each article was full
of interest and hopeful possibilities, but his uncle
looked at them wearily and sadly, because their
very familiarity made them disappointing to him.
There were the little caps and baby-garments,
yellow, rumpled, and weather-stained, just as they
had been taken off and carefully labeled on that
day nearly fifteen years ago. (Donald noticed
that one parcel of these was marked, The boy,
Donald," and the other simply "The girl.")
There were the photographs of the two babies,
which had been taken a week. after their landing,
labeled in the same way-poor, pinched, expres-

sionless-looking little creatures, both of them-
for, as Uncle George explained to the slightly
crest-fallen Donald, the babies were really ill at
first from exposure and unsuitable feeding. Then
there were the two tiny papers containing hair, and
these also were marked, one, The boy, Donald,"
and the other simply "The girl." Donald's had
only a few pale brown hairs, short ones, but "the
girl's" paper, when opened, disclosed a soft, yellow
little curl.
She had more than you had," remarked Uncle
George, as he carefully closed the paper again;
"you '11 see that, also, by the descriptive list that I
wrote at the time. Here it is."
Donald glanced over the paper, as if intending
to read it later, and then took up the chain with a
square clasp, the same that Uncle George held
in his hand when we saw him in the study on the
day of the shooting-match. Three delicate strands
of gold chain came together at the clasp, which
was still closed. It was prettily embossed on its
upper surface, while its under side was smooth.
Was this on Dor-- on hIer neck or on mine,
Uncle ?" he asked.
On the little girl's," said Mr. Reed. In
fact, she wore it until she was a year old, and then
her dear little throat grew to be so chubby, Lydia
fancied that the chain was too tight. The catch
of the clasp seemed to have rusted inside, and it
would not open. So, rather than break it, we
severed the three chains here across the middle.
I 've since--"
Donald, who was holding the clasp toward the
light, cut short his uncle's remark with the joyful
"Why, see here The under side has letters
on it. D. R.-D for Dorothy."
"Yes, yes," said Mr. Reed, impatiently, but
D stands for Delia, too."
But the R," insisted Donald; D. R., Doro-
thy Reed-it 's plain as day. Oh!" he added
quickly, in a changed tone, that does n't help us,
after all; for R would stand for Robertson as well
as for Reed. But then, in some way or other such
a chain as this ought to help us. It's by no means
a common chain. I never saw one like it before."
Nor I," said Mr. Reed.
By this time, Donald had taken up "the
girl's" little garments again. Comparing them
with Donald's as well as he could, considering
his uncle's extreme care that the two sets should
not get mixed, he said, with a boy's helplessness in
such matters: They 're about alike. I do not see
any difference between them, except in length.
Hoho these little flannel sacques are of a different
color-mine is blue and hers is pink."
I know that," his uncle returned, despondingly.




" For a long time I hoped that this difference
would lead to some discovery, but nothing came of
it. Take care! don't lay it down; give it to me"
(holding out his hand for the pink sacque, and
very carefully folding it up with the girl's"
"How strange! And you wrote at once, you
say, and sent somebody right over to Europe to
find out everything ? "
Not only sent my confidential clerk, Henry
Wakeley, over at once," replied Mr. Reed, "but,
when he returned without being able to give any
satisfaction, I went myself. I was over there two
months-as long as I could just then be away from
my affairs and from you two babies. Lydia was
faithfulness itself and needed no oversight, even
had a rough bachelor like me been capable of giv-
ing it; but I-I felt better to be at home, where I
could see how you were getting along. As Liddy
and Jack and everybody else always spoke of you
as 'the twins,' my hope that you were indeed
brother and sister became a sort of habit that often
served to beguile me into actual belief."
Humph well it might," said Donald, rather
indignantly. "Of course we 're brother and
Certainly," assented Mr. Reed, with pathetic
heartiness, "no doubt of it; and yet I would give,
I can not say how much, to be-well, absolutely



'a time, an outsider looking
on would have seen no great
change at Lakewood, as the Reed
homestead was called. There
were the same studies, the same
S sports; the same every-day life
"' .. with its in-comings, its out-go-
ings, its breakfasts, dinners, and
pleasant home-scenes; there were
drives, out-door games, and sails and rambles and
visits; Uncle George always willing to take part
when he could leave his books and papers; and
Lydia, busy attending to household matters, often
finding time to teach her young lady some of the
mysteries of the kitchen.
"It 's high time Miss Dorry learned these
things, even if she is to be a grand lady, for she 'll
be the mistress of this house in time; and if any-
thing should happen to me, I don't know where
thingswould go to. Besides, as Mr. G. truly says,
every lady should understand housekeeping. So,

Miss Dorry, dear, if you please to do so, we '11 bake
bread and cake on Saturday, and I '11 show you
at to-morrow's ironin' how we get Mr. G.'s shirt-
bosoms so lovely and smooth; and, if you please,
you can iron one for him, all with your own pretty
hands, Miss."
As a consequence of such remarks, Mr. G. some-
times found himself eating, with immense relish,
cake that had only "just a least little heavy streak
in the middle," or wearing linen that, if any one
but Dorry had ironed it, would have been cast
aside as not fit to put on.
But what matter Dorry's voice was sweet and
merry as ever, her step as light and her heart
even more glad; for Uncle was always his dear,
good self now, and had no mysterious moods and
startling surprises of manner for his little girl. In
fact, he was wonderfully relieved by having shared
his secret with Donald. The boy's stout-hearted,
manly way of seeing the bright side of things and
scouting all possible suspicions that Dorry was not
Dorry, gave Mr. Reed strength and a peace that
he had not known for years. Dorry, prettier,
brighter, and sweeter every day, was the delight
of the household-her very faults to their partial
eyes added to her charm; for, according to Lydia,
"they were uncommon innocent and funny, Miss
Dorry's ways were." In fact, the young lady, who
had a certain willfulness of her own, would have
been spoiled to a certainty but for her scorn of
affectation, her love of truth, and genuine faithful-
ness to whatever she believed to be right.
Donald, on his part, was too boyish to be utterly
cast down by the secret that stood between him
and Dorry; but his mind dwelt upon it despite his
efforts to dismiss every useless doubt.
Fortunately, Eben Slade had not again made his
appearance in the neighborhood. He had left
Vanbogen's immediately after Jack had paid his
rough compliments to him, and he had not been
seen there since. But, at any moment, he might
re-appear at Lakewood and carry out his threat of
obtaining an interview with Dorry. This Donald
dreaded of all things, and he resolved that it should
not come to pass. How to prevent it was the
question. He and his uncle agreed that she must
be spared not only all knowledge of the secret, but
all anxiety or suspicion concerning her history; and
they and Jack kept a constant lookout for the dis-
agreeable intruder.
Day by day, when alone, Donald pondered over
the case, resolved upon establishing his sister's
identity, recalling again and again all that his
uncle had told him, and secretly devising plans
that grew more and more settled in his mind as
time went on. Jack, who had been in Mr.
Reed's confidence from the first, was now taken




fully into Donald's. He was proud of the boy's
fervor, but had little hope. Fourteen, nearly fif-
teen, years was a long time, and if Ellen Lee had
hidden herself successfully in 1859 and since, why
could she not do so still? Donald had his own
opinion. Evidently she had some reason for
hiding, or fancied she had; but she must be
found, and if so, why should not he, Donald
Reed, find her? Yes, there was no other way.
His mind was made up. Donald was studying
logic at the time, and had committed pages of it to
memory in the most dutiful manner. To be sure,
while these vital plans were forming in his brain,
he did not happen to recall any page of the logic
that exactly fitted the case, but in some way he
flattered himself that he had become rather expert
in the art of thinking and of balancing ideas.
A fellow can't do more than use his wits, after
all," he said to himself, "and this getting fitted for
college and expecting to go to Columbia College
next year, as Uncle says I may, will do well enough
afterward; but at present we 've something else
to attend to."
And, to make a long story not too long and tedi-
ous, the end of it was that one bright day, months

after that memorable afternoon at Vanbogen's,
Donald, after many earnest interviews in the inter-
im, obtained his uncle's unwilling consent that he
should sail alone for England in the next steamer.

Poor Dorry-glad if Don was glad, but totally
ignorant of his errand-was too amazed at the
bare announcement of the voyage to take in the
idea at all.
Lydia, horrified, was morally sure that the boy
never would come back alive.
Sailor Jack, on his sea-legs in an instant, gave
his unqualified approbation of the scheme.
Uncle George, unconvinced but yielding, an-
swered Donald's questions, agreed that Dorry
should be told simply that his uncle was sending
him on important business, allowed him to make
copies of letters, lists, and documents, even trusted
some of the long-guarded and precious relics to his
keeping; furnished money, and, in fact, helped
him all he could; then resolved the boy should not
go after all; and finally, holding Dorry's cold hand
as they stood a few days later on the crowded city
wharf, bade him good-bye and God bless him!
(To 6e continued.)






S 1 -C1 I- T HE- PT P I T.

Now is the time to put your thermometers in
ice-water, my friends. They can not be kept too
cool,-for my birds tell me that, in August, the
moment an English or American thermometer
feels the heat, it straightway lets the fact be
known; and the moment the fact is known, the
weather gets the blame of it.
Now, that's too bad !
It's surprising how much a willing-minded
Jack-in-the-Pulpit may get from his birds. The
keen little observers, you see, not knowing any
better, peep from vines and tree-tops into people's
windows, and in that way really learn a good deal
about human nature.
Sometimes I fancy that is what makes them sing
so joyfully, for human nature at its best is quite
enough to make every bird in creation happy.
Don't you say so, my hearers ?

YES, here 's a little exercise for you, my dears,
out-your Jack's word for it, in advance-not
too severe for even this warm vacation month.
All you have to do is to turn the pages of a Web-
ster's or a Worcester's Unabridged, and I 've
reliable information that-if you know how-you
can do that in such a way as to fan yourselves
with the breeze from the leaves while you 're
searching for your word.
This exercise comes from the Little School-
ma'am's friend, Cornelia Lesser, who sent it to her,
and now she, in turn, sends it to your Jack. It is
quite easy and simple, dear Jack," writes the learned
little lady, "as it is merely a story in verse con-
taining a number of words that are not now in
general use. Please tell your young friends from
me that, no matter how queer and foreign the
verses may look at first sight, if they will turn to

the dictionary for each of these strange words, as
they come to it, and then pencil the definition
above the word itself, they will find a complete
and quite simple story in the verses when they
come to re-read them with the Dictionary mean-
ings substituted for the queer-looking words."

ONCE a culver roiled a corby,
Chiding his furacious prowls;
And the corby from the culver
Tozed in wrath a dicker of dowles.
Give me back my dowles, O Corby
Tozed from me with cruel force."
When you bring a cogue of cullis,
Fribble Culver, we will scorse!"
T1 -. .1. d- dorp beyond the hill-top,
*II- --.- the knaggy rook,
Flew the culver; spied some cullis
Left to cool, and to the cook:
Let me have a cogue of cullis,
Daff me not with angry scowls,
I will take it to the corby
And get back my dicker of dowles."
Fetch me first a trug of cobbles,"
Said the cook; and, undismayed,
To the collier sped the culver,
And a trug of cobbles prayed.
Collier, give a trug of cobbles
For the cook, who '11 give to me
Cullis for the edacious corby,
Then I '11 once more heppen be."
Fetch me first a knitch of chatwood,
Culver," said the collier grim.
Culver sought a frim woodmonger
And the chatwood begged of him.
Give to me a knitch of chatwood,
From the collier that will buy
For the cook a trug of cobbles,
Then with cullis I will fly
To the roiled, dicacious corby,
And he 'll give me back once more
All my pretty dowles, the dicker
That he tozed from me before."
You shall have the knitch of chatwood
If you '11 through the hortyard pass,
And this rory croceous pansy
Give to yonder sonsy lass."
Through the hortyard twired the culver,
With the rory croceous paunce;
Hattle, cocket, vafrous, pawky,
Hoiting, chirring, did advance.
There, beside a muxy dosser,
With a spaddle in her hand
Cruddled close the sonsy lassie
Whin excerping from her land.
Down he dropped the paunce so rory,
Degging her with dew-drops sweet;
Back he flew to the woodmonger,
Claiming chatwood for the feat.
Next he this, the knitch of chatwood,
Quickly to the collier took;
Collier .gave the trug of cobbles
Which won cullis from the cook.
Back, then, with the cogue of cullis-
Cullis made from fubby fowls-
Flew the culver, and the corby
Gave to him his dicker of dowles.

Now for it! Who will be the first to send me
word of having successfully read this queer speci-
men of English verse ?





HERE is a letter from Lynn S. Abbott, Esq., a
young gentleman who evidently is not afraid of
work, and has no objection to stating the fact. He
wrote it to ST. NICHOLAS when the editors printed
some little black pictures and asked for stories
about them for the Very Little Folk, and Deacon
Green, taking a fancy to the little, man, obtained
permission to show the letter to us-that is, to you
and your Jack.

T)FAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have chosen the picture of the little
gardener as the subject for my story. I know considerable about
gardening. My garden was planted to vegetables. I raised canta-
loupes, water-melons, sweet potatoes, and pop-corn. I spent many
days hoeing and weeding them, and they were hot summer days.
I thought of the harvest, when I could have them at my pleasure;
though the cantaloupes were a failure, the pop-corn yielded very
well. When I came to gather my crops, I saw it paid me well for
my trouble, and we have had pop-corn all winter. I would like
to take care of flowers also, and see them blossom, and smell their
sweet odor. But I had no ground to grow flowers ...I I ,
vegetables. Besides, I have had no experience in .. .. .
I wish that every little boy and girl could have a vegetable garden,
for it affords so much pleasure. I suppose that every one would
like a garden of either kind. And this is my story.
LYNN S. ABBOTT (aged nine).


AN artist with a lively fancy sends me a picture
of his favorite steed, so to speak, and says I may
show it to you, my chicks-so here it is.
It strikes me that this mode of riding is no more
peculiar or out of the way than bicycling, and cer-
tainly the gentleman in the picture seems to be
having an easier time of it than some of the boy-

bicyclers who dash past my meadow these hot
days. And I 'm informed by birds well acquainted
with this two-legged steed that he would give a
trained bicycle a close contest in the matter of
speed. Ostriches, they say, are remarkably fast
travelers, for birds that can't fly, and it 's a good
horse that can overtake one in a fair race.

NEW BEDFORD, MASS., May 28, 1882.
DEAR JACK: In ST. NICHOLAS for May the statement was made
by "L. B. G." that there is only one Saturday in the year when
the sun does not shine some part of the day." This is a mistake,
for, since that number of ST. NICHOLAS came out, there have been
two Saturdays when the sun has not shone at all- T.. .0. and
2oth being the days. _.' .. '. P.

Alfred's answer seems to be complete and satis-
factory, and, in your Jack's humble opinion, settles
the question concerning the sun's dealings with the
Saturday. There 's nothing like facts in such
matters, I find.

WATERLOO, N. Y., May 8, 1882.
DEAR JACK: I think I have found the correct answer asked by
F. in ST. NICHOLAS for May, 1878: "When did the ancients leave
off and the moderns begin? I think the ancients left off" at
the fall of Rome, 476 A. D., and the moderns bean" at the close
of the Middle Ages, in the fifteenth century. Will you please tell
me whether I am right or not ? Yours truly, L. K.

Thank you, my little girl. Jack will show your
letter to the other girls and boys, and if you do
not hear from them to the contrary right away,
you will know that your answer is right.





r f' .
..4 r

_. i '



[DEAR LITTLE FOLKS: We think you will like these stories that three kind friends of about
eleven years of age have written for you, to explain the pretty black pictures that were printed in
ST. NICHOLAS for April, page 497. As some of you may not have that number of ST. NICHOLAS
to look at, we give you the same pictures made small. You will see that Mildred and Violet
each tell about one picture, but Willie mentions them all.-THE EDITOR.]



COME, Neddie," said Lillie, put down your toy horse that the kind
lady gave you, and let us wind this worsted for Mother. You know,
ever since Father was lost at sea, she has to knit stockings at night and
sell them to buy us bread. Let us wind the worsted so she will not
have so much trouble."
So Neddie put down his toy horse, and gladly ran to hold the skein
for his sister.
After a while Mrs. Melville came home, but she stopped on the door-
step and stood still-for she thought how a merciful God had blessed





her. She said: "Look in there at the children!" But who was it that
she was talking to? Mr. Melville! It was all a mistake about his being
drowned, and he had come home to his wife and children.


HERBIE was a little boy seven years old. His real name was Her-
bert, but they called him Herbie for short. This little Herbie was very
fond of flowers, and he loved to watch his sisters, Clara and Bertha,
with their plants.
One spring, when they were planting some seeds and raking their
beds, and asked him to help them about some of the work, he thought:
" Now, I 'd like to know why I can't have a garden just as well as the
girls;" and he went and asked his mother for
a bed,-"'cause, you see," he said, "the girls
have 'em, and I 'd like to know why I can't."
"You can, my boy, if you will be faithful
and attend to your plants, water them, and
weed them, even though you want to do .
something else. Will you?"
"I '11 try, Mamma," said Herbie; and his
mother knew that his I '11 try" meant that he
would try.
The next day he was given a little bed and
some seeds, and Mamma, Clara, and Bertha i
showed Herbie how to make his bed, rake it,
plant it, and water it. It soon grew to be a 4 -i .-
pleasant task to Herbie, and he got so he dearly
loved to tend his flowers. But when the warm weather came, and school
was out, he was very much tempted to go and play with the boys; but
Mamma's cheery words of help, and above all his I '11 try," and even the
twitter of the birds that seemed to say, Keep on, keep on," helped him,
and he did "keep on."
Every day he would water his plants, and when his garden was in
bloom he felt fully repaid for all his care.
There were geraniums, petunias, roses, mignonettes, pansies, and many
other lovely and sweet flowers. Those are long, hard names, are n't
they? Get some one to say them for you.




Herbie, when he had all his flowers grown, could make beautiful bouquets
to put in the parlor or give to his friends, which the other boys could not
do; and he considered this, his first attempt at gardening, a great success,
and thought he would surely try it again; and Mamma softly whispered:
I am glad I have a little boy who can say 'I '11 try' and mean it."



THESE little children's names are Fannie and Johnny. They are
brother and sister, and love each other dearly. Johnny is the youngest
of the two, and is always very glad to help Fannie in any way that he
can. So in the first picture we see him holding some worsted on his
hands for her to wind. They are both very good children, and help their
mamma and papa a great deal. If a cup of coffee is wanted, Fannie
does not wait to be told to get it, but jumps up and says, Let me get
you some coffee, Mamma." She has a pet kitten, and it never goes
hungry, for she is very careful that her pussy shall have all it wants.
Johnny tries to help, too, and sometimes brings things to his papa.
In the next picture we see Johnny playing horse with a chair. We see,
too, that he has a cannon planted in front of him, and that on his head
he has a cap, which looks very much as if he was a captain in the army,
but he is rather too young to be that, don't you think so ? Now we see
Fannie coming home from the store, where she has been on an errand
for her mamma, and in her hand she has a bandbox, which, I guess, has
a new hat in it. What do we see now? Why! Master Johnny has
turned gardener, and is watering the flower-bed. By his side lies his
rake, and behind him there are some birds which are trying to see what
that little boy is doing. The next time we see Johnny he is painting,
and the last time we shall look at our little friend he is making a bridge
out of blocks.
Nearly three hundred stories were written and sent in by older brothers and sisters in response to
the invitation on page 497 of the April number of this magazine, and ST. NICHOLAS thanks one and.
all most heartily for the kind attention. Many of the stories are excellent in some respects, but not
suited to very little readers; and others, that have the great merit of simplicity, are not quite up to the
desired standard. Therefore, we print, just as they were sent, the above three as being the best, consider-
ing the required conditions and the ages of the writers. The competition has been so close that it is
very difficult to make the selection. Indeed, if space permitted, we would give many others and a long
roll of honor, containing the names of those children whose work deserves praise. As it is, we must confine
ourselves to three stories, and specially mention only Alice and Marion," ten and eleven years old,
who sent in a little story written in three languages (French, German, and English), and little Oliver-
E. and Emily M., two eight-year-olds, whose stories are too good to be passed by in silence.






FOR the interesting illustrations, in this number, of the interior of
the home of Sir Walter Scott, we are indebted to the courtesy of
Messrs. George W. Wilson & Co., of Aberdeen, Scotland, who
kindly allowed us to copy these pictures from a series of very beau-
tiful photographs of Abbotsford, issued by their house.

READERS of the exciting story of How Joe Bently won a Bou-
quet from the Queen of Portugal" may be interested to know that
the narrative is founded on fact. The author's letter concerning it
says: The account is essentially true, and based upon an actual
occurrence. A young man belonging to the United States man-of-
war Trenton once saved the life of a bull-fighter, in the ring at Lis-
bon, by throwing the animal in the manner described in this story."
Nevertheless, ST. NICHOLAS would caution the average American
boy against making a daily practice of similar performances.

DELIA M. L. SHERRILL: You will find an explanation of the "lit-
tle white things" covering a "large green worm found on the
woodbine" in Mrs. Ballard's "Insect Lives," under the title of "A
Hundred to One."

READER: The first and second volumes of ST. NICHOLAS are out
of print.

ALTA: A competent authority to whom we have referred your
question says that the coins mentioned are of no great value, and
would not be likely to find a purchaser.

A CORRESPONDENT sent us last month, as a Fourth of July item,
this interesting sketch, showing that, by a slight exaggeration of out-
line, the map of the State of New Jersey may be made to form a
respectable portrait of George Washington:



Cape MAY.


THE Lenox Chapter celebrated the birthday of Professor Agassiz
by an excursion and picnic by the side of Stockbridge Bowl. An
essay on the life of the great naturalist was read, also a history of
the A. A. Many interesting specimens were found, and the pleas-
ure of the day was many times multiplied by the thought that so
many of the rest of you were uniting with us in honoring a grand
and good man. Doubtless many others observed the day, but we
have heard from the following only: Warren, Me., Brooklyn, N. Y.
(B), Easton, Pa. (C), Davenport, Iowa, Depere, Wis., Hyde Park,
Mass., Philadelphia, Pa. (C), Hoosac, N. Y., Lansing, Mich.,
Independence, Kan.
Longfellow's poem on Agassiz's fiftieth birthday is especially ap-
propriate for reading or recitation on the 28th of May.
The highest number on our register is now 3,395, and new Chap-
ters are forming like pop-corn over fresh coals. So much of our
space is necessarily devoted to the list of Chapters that we can give
only the most concise epitome of the hundreds of interesting reports
which have cheered us during the month, many of which richly de-
serve to appear in full.
Chapter 292 dwells on "a prairie covered with flowers which we
are trying to analyze." The London, Eng., Chapter has a new
idea. ".Once a month we take turns in giving a lecture to our
friends. Several ladies and gentlemen attend, and do all they can
to help us."
S'.t 'i "pleased, I am sure, to hear that we have formed a
C i...r.. -I' r-.. "Agassiz Association in Dublin. We meet once a
fortnight and are growing rapidly, having nearly thirty members
already. We have chosen a bright crimson ribbon for our badge.
It is to have shamrock-leaves and the initials A. A. worked on it
with silver thread. Great enthusiasm is manifested in collecting
specimens. ELLEN J. WOODWARD, Sec.,
5 Carlton Terrace, Upper Rathmines, Dublin.
[Letters reporting the organization of this Chapter in Dublin,
and the London Chapter, reached us by the same mail. Rose and
Shamrock are heartily welcome. May we not have a Thistle ?]

Since our last letter, our Chapter has grown from five to eighteen
members, and the meetings are well attended. Our principal study
has been conchology. We have studied, too, about minerals, and
after we know a little chemistry we are going to learn more. We
are pretty familiar with quartz in its crystallized and amorphous
forms, and recognize micas and some feldspar. Our collection is all
arranged, labeled, and catalogued, and we have duplicate minerals
and shells for exchange. A silver medal was awarded by our Chap-
ter to Arthur Hillman, for best solution of ST. NICHOLAS questions
for January, 1882, and to Helen Reynolds, for best solution of same
for March. We have a balance in the treasury and want to buy a
picture of Professor Agassiz. Can you tell us where one can be
had, and the price? HELEN REYNOLDS.
BUFFALO, May 13, S82a.
We now number twenty-two active members, with the names of
several more candidates for admission before the committee. Last
Friday evening we celebrated the anniversary of the establishment
of our Chapter. Just a year ago, four of us, enthusiastic over the
plan suggested in the ST. NICHOLAS, met for the first time to try to
form a branch of the A. A. in Buffalo. Now, as the result of our
efforts, we have a delightful company of interested workers, all alive
to the beauties of Nature, and eager to study her wonders. The
entire club is busy preparing fi -. ........... the object of
which is to buy a microscope. I .; : bank already,
but $50 remains to be gained, as we wish tC rF--i ood instru-
ment. CORA FREEMAN, C ." I C. A. A.
Linville H. Wardwell, Secretary of Chapter 127, Beverly, Mass.,
writes that they are raising a large number of butterflies and moths
from the larva state, and will take notes upon their transformation.
Entomological correspondence desired.
Andrew Allen, of Newburyport, Mass., reports his Chapter so
enthusiastic that it required seven meetings in April to satisfy the
members. A live alligator is their pride,
Chapter C, Washington, D. C., through its secretary, Emily K.
Newcomb, sends a well-written, business-like report. The regu-
lation badge has been adopted.
William Carter, Chapter 123 A, Waterbury, Conn., says: "We
have now about one hundred and ten different kinds of minerals on
our shelves, and have introduced debates at each meeting."
Harry E. Sawyer, Secretary of Chapter ri2 A, South Boston,
Mass., says: We have about one hundred and twenty-five differ-





ent kinds of minerals, thirty shells, etc., thirty kinds of eggs, and a
few insects, almost all collected in less than ten months, and we
expect to greatly enlarge our collection this spring and summer.
Luther Moffitt's Chapter of nine-year-olds is especially welcome.
Nashua A is among the wise. It has started a library. We
hope that many valuable public libraries maybe started by the A. A.
Hugh Stone and his sister have found a flying-squirrel's nest.
It contained three young squirrels rolled up in a ball of grass. They
squeaked just like a new shoe, until their mother sailed down from a
tree, took them by the back of the neck, as a cat takes her kittens,
and carried them away.
Ashtabula, Ohio, wants to know why striking the ice on a pond
will kill fish beneath; whether snails can leave their shells; whether
the shells of oysters, etc., grow with the animal, and whether lig
numr vita grows in the United States. They have had four meet-
ings, and every member has been present each time-" so slight
hinderances as rain and mud-in some cases two miles of it--mak-
ing no difference." (The Secretary told me confidentially a little
incident, which 1 will just whisper to you, because it pleased me so
much: "I went the other day to one of our neighbors to buy some-
thing needed for use. She filled my pail and said: 'I take noting
for it. You gif dose children such goot dimes. It ees shust all the
goot dimes dey haf in dis country. Dey shust cand wait for Sadur-
day nighd.' ")
Harrie Hancock asks information about a curious stone of India,
which will:bend, a little, and'which, when set on end, "will swing to
and fro while the base remains firm."
St. Helena, Cal., is studying mosses. "The most noticeable is a
pale sage-green variety, hanging straight down on trees. It is from
one to three feet long, and like beautiful lace. I have counted
sixteen varieties on one small branch."
A. B. G. has discovered that "every single little branch of a com-
mon bur is provided with a hook at the end, and a very strong one.
If a hair be stretched between two pins and then hooked with a
piece of a bur, the force that must be employed before the tiny
thing will break is really surprising."
A. D. Ristun writes: "The other day I tried to determine the
rate of vibration of a fly's wing. I imprisoned it in a box, where
it buzzed in a lively manner; and I found, on producing the
same tone on my violin, that the insect emitted the 'A' below fun-
damental 'C.' From this I computed that the fly beat its wings
two hundred and thirteen times per second."
Boston B, "to a man," "are keeping aquaria and watching
mosquito larve and dragon-fly larvm preparing to leave the water;
also, tadpoles whose legs are visible beneath the skin." The same
chapter has a library and a life-size bust of Professor Agassiz. An
excursion was recently made to Cambridge, where Agassiz's museum
was visited and thoroughly enjoyed.
Providence, R. L., A, is going to hold field-meetings. "My
brother and I," writes the Secretary, "knew Professor Agassiz at
Penikese Island."
Willie Sheraton (not quite eleven) speaks from Toronto, Canada,
to say that he thinks, "when tadpoles turn into frogs, their tails are
tucked up underneath." [Some of our Boston (B) aquaria will
solve this problem for us.]
Sc. BURLINGTON, KAN., June 6th.
One of our members introduced something quite nice. each
member receives a topic from the President, to which he reads an
answerat thefollowing meeting. Forthepastweekcuriousbirdshave
been seen near our city. They resemble the black-headed gull;
measure twenty-four inches from tip to tip of wing; have very small
bodies, jet black head and bill, and their wings very much longer
than their tail. Can any one tell me what they are?
P. M. FLOYD, Sec.


Pressed flowers correctly named. Correspondence, West and
South.- G. C. Baker, Comstock, N. Y,
Pyrites, fossils, ferns, for gold, silver, or copper ore.--Geo. Row-
ell, Box 208, St. Clair, Pa.
Fossils, for nests and .:.-.. --'' I... M. Patterson, Chapter G,
oxo W. Van Buren St., ( .". ill-
Other minerals, for sapphire, cairngorm, and butterflies.-E. S.
Foster, 18 Chestnut St., Boston, Mass.
Iron ore, insects, plants.- Geo. C. McKee, State College, Pa.
Copper carbonate, silver, fossils, and insects, all labeled neatly,
for labeled minerals and insects.- Fred. M. Pease, Sec. Chapter276,
124 W. Sixth St., Kansas City, Mo.
Three-ounce specimens from St. Johns River, for others as heavy.
F. C. Sawyer, Beauclerc, Fla.
Manganese ore, for tin or zinc ore.--F. E. Coombs, 634 Q St.,
N. W., Washington, D. C.
Iron ore, for bugs.-J. C. Winne, Sec. Chapter 209, Brownsville,
N. Y.
Rare fossils, minerals, and marine specimens, for rare fossils.--H.
U. Williams (Chapter B), x63 Delaware St., Buffalo, N. Y. Our
Chapter will also offer the following prize: A good specimen of
Euript'ercts, seven inches long, for the best Trilobite sent within
two months after this notice appears.

Iron ore, fossils of Lower Silurian, coal, and pressed flowers.-
Fred. Clearwaters, Brazil, Ind.
One variety Pectea and several species of Unio, and fresh-water
snails. Also correspondence-on entomology.-John P. Gavit, Sec.
Chapter A, 3 Lafayette St., Albany, N. Y.
Eggs, for eggs, and lead ore, for other minerals.-Alvin S.
Wheeler, Sec. Chapter 285, Dubuque, Iowa.
Birds' eggs or minerals, for eggs. Write before sending speci-
mens.-Reginald I. Brasher, o07 Sands street, Brooklyn, N. Y.
Viola cucullata, for geodes.-Marie Stewart, South Easton, Pa.
Correspondence.--Wm. R. Nichols, Sec. Chapter 288, io Hawk
street, Albany, N. Y.
Kansas fossils.-P. M. Floyd, Chapter A, Burlington, Kans.
Cecrofia, polyphemus, and promestrea, for oi- l.:i: i.4:-.-
coleoptera.-C. C. Beale, Sec. Chi-ter P 1.-7. i ,. i,...., I
Petrified wood from Californi, ...1 :,.: II .. -.andwich Islands.
-Samuel Engs, Newport, R. I.
Petrified moss.-Wm. E. Loy, Eaton, Ohio.
Fortification agates.-John J. O'Connell, Fort Stockton, Texas.
The name of Greenwood Lake, Ky., has been changed, by order of
the P. O. D., to Erlanger. Those wishing to exchange with the
former "Greenwood Lake" Chapter, for cnnoid stones and fossils,
please notice.-Lillie M. Bedinger.
Eggs of red-head duck, fish-hawk, willet, and black skimmer, for
other rare eggs.-Ch. E. Doe, 28 Wood street, Providence, R. I.
















Naome of Chapter. M-embers. Address.
Tiffin, O.................. ..Please send it to us.
Saratoga, N. Y. (A)....... 4..H. A. Chandler, Box 15.
Nanuet, N. Y. (A) ......... 4..C. D. Wells.
Poynette, Wis. (A)........ 6..Harry Russell.
Fulton, N. Y. (A)......... 7..H. C. Howe.
Chester, Pa. (A) ........... 5.. Frank R. Gilbert.
Newton UpperFalls, Mass.. 6. Josie M. Hopkins.
Plantsville, Conn. (B)...... 4..L. Jennie Smith.
Reading, Pa.................W. W. Mills,
o205 South Fifth St.
Dixon, Ill. (A) ............ 7..Eddie Shepherd.
Mercer, Pa. (A) ........... 4..Mrs. H. M. Magoffin.
East Boston, Mass........ Edith M. Buffum,
284 Meridian St.
Denver, Col. (B)........... 4..Ernest M. Roberts.
Address, please?
Gardiner, Me. (A)......... 4..A. C. Brown.
Gainesville, Fla. (A) ....... 8..Paul E. Rollins.
Indianapolis, Ind. (B)...... 7..Cornelia McKay, 156 Ash St.
St. Clair, Pa. (A).......... xo.. Geo. Powell.
Chicago, Ill. (G) ......... 6..W. M. Patterson,
roxo Van Buren St
Thompsonville, Ct. (A).... 30.. Alice Briscoe.
Wareham, Mass. (A.)...... o..H. M. Humphrey.
Severance, Kan........... 7..Chas. Plank.
Newburyport, Mass. (B)... 6..R. E. Curtis.
Westtown, N. Y. (A) .... 4. .W. Evans.
Pittsburgh, Pa. (B)........ 2.. F. K. Gearing,
2oth and Sidney Sts.

Hartford, Ct. (D).......... 5..Clive Day, 655 Asylum Av.
Washington, D. C. (E) ....12..Ch. Beardsley, Jr.,
2x4 4th, S. E.
Kansas City, Mo. (A) ..... 6..F. M. Pease, x14 W. 6th.
Altoona, Pa. (A).......... 6..Geo. Piper.
E. Pittsburgh, Pa. (C)..... 4.J. F. McCune.
Address, please?
Easton, Pa. (A)........... 6..Augustus Tyler,
1313 Ferry St.
Little Rock, Ark. (A)...... 4..Victor C. Lewis.
Webster, Mass. .......... 4..R. G. Leavitt.
Zellwood, Fla.............. 7 .Allie D. Williamson.
Greenfield, Mass. (A.)..... 6..C. H. K. Sanderson.
Swanzey, N. H. (A)....... 4..Lucy A. Whitcomb,
Marlboro Depot.
Dubuque, Iowa (A)........ 8..Alvin S. Wheeler.
Stockport, N. Y. (A)....... 8..W. J. Fisher.
Ottawa, Ill. (A)............ 5..Edgar Eldredge.
Albany, N. Y. (B)........ 7..Wm. R. Nichols,
io Hawk St.
Cambria Station, Pa....... 6..E. P. Oberholtzer.
Dublin, Ireland (A) .......30 ..Ellen J. Woodward, 5 Carlton
Terrace, Upper Rathmines.
Providence, R. I. (A)...... 6..Mattie W. Packarl,
115 Angell St.
Independence, Kan........ 8..Willie H. Plank.
Syracuse, N. Y. (A)....... o..Clara White,
99 W. Onondaga St.
Garden City, L. I. (A)..... 4..Wm. R. Kitchen.
Boonville, N. Y. (A)....... 6..Franklin C. Johnson.
San Francisco (D)...... 8. Bertha L. Rowell,
416 Sacramento St.
Malden, Mass. (A) ....... 7..C.C. Beale,
Box i31, Faulkner, Mass.




I. A DOUBLE ACROSTIC: Divide each of the six letter-circles in
such a way that the letters, in the order in which they now stand,
will form a word. The six words, 1..-,, ; 1ll 1T.i-l t make
a double acrostic; the initials will -.-. .... ... p i.-. cement,
and the finals a word meaning to gather for preservation.
II. AN EASY DIAMOND: From the names of the objects here
pictured, form a five-letter diamond.
III. A WORD: What adjective is here represented? G. F.

EACH of the following lines describes one word; when the six
words are rightly selected and placed one below another, in the
order here given, they will form a word-square:
i A sultry month of scorching sun;
2. Of muses nine a "heavenly" one;
3. Part of a house much used for store;
4. Our state when griefs are pondered o'er;
5' A nap from which, refreshed, one rouses;
6. In India, frames for cooling houses. J. P. B.

For Older Puzzlers.
EACH of the following geographical questions may be answered
by one word, and the initial letters of these words, placed in the order
here given, will spell a Latin phrase used by Suetonius in writing of
the Emperor Titus.
t. A group of islands belonging to Portugal. 2. An island in
the Mediterranean. 3. A river of South Amerca. 4. A city of the
Netherlands. 5. An inland sea in Asiatic Russia. 6. A commer-
cial city of China. 7. A kingdom of Western Europe. 8. A
country in the western part of South America. 9. An important
manufacturing city of France. ao. The lake in which the Mississippi
River rises. a. The principal city of British India. 12. One of the
United States, noted for its silver mines. 13. A country of East-
ern Africa. 14. A country of Africa, famous for its historical inter-

est. 15. A city of Spain. 16. A lake situated between the United
States and Canada. 17. A republic of Central America. 18. A
river of Asia, which empties into the Persian Gulf. 19. A city of
France, located on the Seine. 20. A great river of Southern Asia.
21. A classic name for a great peninsula of Northern Europe. 22.
A cape on the coast of Delaware. 23. A city of the Netherlands.
,24.' A channeleast of Africa. 25. A city which was, for ages, the
centerof European civilization. 26. Ariverof Russia. 27. A river
of Asia, emptying into the Bay of Bengal. VIRGINIS."

THE initials spell the name by which a celebrated novelist is often
called; the finals, one of his most noted poems, which was published
in 1810.
CRoss-WORDo: I. What "brevity is the soul of" 2. A measure
of length. 3. A girdle. 4. A sprite introduced in one of Shake-
speare's dramas. 5. A girl's name. 6. A number which is to be
divided into equal parts. 7. Customary. 8. A celebrated opera by
Beethoven. 9. A pilferer. o1. Upright. i. The dry land. 12.
A famous river in Africa. 13. That which precedes all others of its
class. 14. The name of a novel by George Eliot. 15. An inhabit-
ant of a country of Europe. 16. The surname of a celebrated Ger-
man poet, born in 18oo. TANTALLON.

ACROSS (from left to right): I. In reversible. 2. A name by which
catnip is sometimes called. 3. A noisy feast. 4. To surrender. 5.
Drags. 6. A snare. 7. In diamond.
REVERSED (from right to left): i. In reversible. 2. To write. 3.
A mechanical power. 4. Reproached. 5. A scriptural word, fre-
quently occurring in the Psalms, supposed to signify silence. 6. A
number. 7. In diamond. HOSMER CLARK.

I AM composed of twenty-seven letters, and am a quotation from
"Midsummer Night's Dream."
My 6-1o-25-1-z1-27 is to mock. My 26-3-14-2-4-13-7 is to
issue. My 24-12-15 is to adapt. My 20-18-21-17-23 is to worry.
My 19-5-8 is an inhabitant of a country of Northern Europe. My
9-16-22-26 are troublesome rodents. D. D. T.


I. UPPER SQUARE: i. Obscurity. 2. A mark of respect. 3. A
British officer who was hung in 1780 as a spy. 4. Pertaining to
an order of Grecian architecture. 5. Upright.
II. Left-hand Square: i. To strike. 2. Inferior. 3. Empty.
4. A medicine that gives vigor to the system. 5. Upright.
III. Central Square: i. Upright. 2. A boy's name. 3. The
joint of the arm. 4. End. 5. A high building.
IV. Right-hand Square: I. A high building. 2. The emblem
of peace. 3. To extend. 4. Occurrence. 5. Leases.
V. Lower Square: x. A high building. 2. Oxygen ina con-
densed form. 3. Formed into a fabric. 4. A Latin epic poem,
written by Virgil. 5. Tears asunder. "ALCIBIADES."





THE above should first be read as a rebus. The answer will be a
charade consisting of five lines, each line of pictures representing a
line of the stanza. This should, in turn, be solved as if it were
printed like similar charades. The compound word which is the
answer to the charade is hinted at in the illustration. G. F.

I. I. IN supposing. 2. A body of water. 3. A fruit. 4. A
unit. 5. In chasing. II. i. A common article. 2. To imitate.
3. A common fruit. 4. A sprite. 5. In foreign. III. x. In ap-
pealing. 2. Encountered. 3. A tropical fruit. 4. A measure. 5.
In promenading. IV. i. In abruptly. 2. A marsh. 3. A kind
of tea. 4. A jewel. 5. In inclination.
MY whole 's a name for anything-
A comprehensive word,
And yet 't is sometimes definite,
Unless I 've greatly erred.
Remove one letter, then transpose,
And you can spell a wine-
Perhaps too common on the board
Where gentlemen may dine.
Subtract .... '.... i.:tter now,
Rightly i ... .. the rest,
And you at once will get the clew
By which some things are guessed.
Remove one more, transpose again,
And the result, you '1 say,
Is very useful in New York
Upon the first of May.
Repeat the process once again,
And you may now unfold
A certain little tiresome thing
E'en in the best household.
Remove its head (would that you might,
Of every living one !)
And leave "near to, in, by, on, with,"
"And now my tale is done." AUNT SUE.

THE syncopated letters, placed in the order here given, spell a
word meaning majestic.
i. Syncopate a garment and leave humble dwelling. 2. Syncopate
a spy and leave an inhabitant of Great Britain. 3. Syncopate hu-
morists and leave a verb. 4. Syncopate was able and leave chilly.
5. Syncopate a kind of pipe and leave a gardening instrument 6.
Syncopate part of a barrel and leave to succor.


Did the first go to bed by the second's light,
Or shoot off the whole on a gala night?
DOUBLE DIAGONALS. Left to right, Pompey; right to left,
Taurus. Cross-words: i. PackeT. 2. COevAl. 3. SaMUel.
4. TuRPin. 5. SUrrEy. 6. ShabbY.
Co-P-al. 2. Al-O-es. 3. Fa-C-ts. 4. Lo-A-ch. 5. Sc-H-io. 6.
Mo-O-re. 7. Ca-N-to. 8. Mi-T-re. 9. Co-A-st. xo. Ca-S-ts.
CROSS PUZZLE. I to 2, keel; 5 to 2, reel; 3 to 2, pool; 4 to 2,
evil.-- CROSS-WORD ENIGMA. Excalibur.
PI. Events are only winged shuttles which fly from one side of
the loom of life to the other, bearing the many colored threads out
of which the fabric of our character is made.

DOUBLE ACRosTIc. Initials, Calhoun; finals, Webster. Cross-
words: i. CaW. 2. ArchivE. 3. LimB. 4. HarasS. 5. Oce-
loT. 6. UtilizE. 7. NavigatoR.
NUMERICAL ENIGMtA. Of making many books there is no end;
and much study is a weariness of the flesh.-Ecclesiastes, xii., 12.
ILLUSTRATED PUZZLE. A few easels (few (w)easels).
ANAGRAMS. i. Home, Sweet Home, by John Howard Payne.
2. The Star Spangled Banner, by Francis Scott Key. 3. Battle
Hymn of the Republic, by Julia Ward Howe. 4. The Old Oaken
Bucket, by Samuel Woodworth. 5. Woodman, Spare that Tree,
by George P. Morris.--CHARADE. Manage.
OCTAGON. Across: I. Pan. 2. Cares. ,. Parcels. 4. Arcadia.
5. Needing. 6. Slink. 7. Sag.

ANSWERS TO ALL OF THE PUZZLES IN THE JUNE NUMBER were received, before June o2, from Mama and Bae and Helen E. Mahan.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN-THE JUNE NUMBER were received, before June 20, from Paul, Frank, and John, i -Arthur A. Moon, 2
-Helen M. Dunnan, -3-"A Solver," 6- Daisy, 2-A. Hawthorne, 2-Annetta W. Peck, r- Lightner Witmer, 5- Charlie Wright, 3
-B. H., Natie P. Cutler, x-G. C. Southard, i-May Fuller, --Lannie Daniels, 3- Julia P. Ballard, i -Maidie R. Lang, 2-
F. Pearl Holden, --E. A. W. and J. C. N., i-Willie Witherle, 2-Sara M. and Edith Gallaudet, 7-Bessie Ammerman, 2-S. R. T.,
ix Omer T. Trash, i -B. F. E., 3- Edward Dana Sabine, 3-" Wilmington," 6- Aggie Rhodes, 8- Frankie Crawford, 7- Thomas
H. Miller, 3- Alice S. Rhoads, 9-Frank Benedict, ix-Charlie S., 2--Emeline Tungerich and Clara Small, 7-F. Edith Case, 7-
Daisy F. and Ethel B. Barry, 7-Eva M. Hoadley, i-Anna K. Thompson, 2-Frederica and Andrew Davis, in-"Leather Stock-
-. -Etta U. Taylor, 3-Willie H. Bawden, 5-"Youle," 5-"Alcibiades," ii-George Leonard, Jr., i-Harvey F. Phipard, 1-
I.I... K. Talboys, 9-E. L. Jones, 2-C. O. B., 3-Leslie Douglass, 8--AsenathB. Hosmer, i--Ruth and Samuel Camp, 5-A. M.
and M. W., 8-Ethel M. Eager, 7-Gertrude Lansing and Julia Wallace, 6- Maud T. Badlam, 2-Mabel Thompson, 5-Polywog and
Tadpole, 5-Anna Buell Ely, i--A. F. and B. L., 7-Pau Z., io-Ralph and Josephine, io--Annie, Mabel, and Florence Knight,
eo- Bessie P. McCollin, zo-' ., .. M. Giffin, i--May Beadle, 7--Mary Burnam, 6--Charles P. Shoemaker, 2- No Name, 7-
Minnie B. Murray, x Grace i .-. I, --Howard Smith, i-Violette, -James R. Moore, 3-"The Houghton Family," i -Jim
T-T..:1.. .. 8 -From Canada, 5-Lottie Foggan, 4-Mollie Weiss, 4--Anna Clarke, 3-Anna R. Warner, 8-Vin and Alex, 9-
S. i ..: and Verna, 8-Rory O'More, 6-"Joe B.," 5-Florence G. Lane, 4-Winnie, 2-Clara, Luzia, and Elsie, 9-S. W. M-
,.I?'... -Wiley P. Boddie, i-Mamie Baker, x-"Professor and Co.," io-D. S. Crosby and H. W. Chandler, Jr., I--James
Herbert Jordan, 2-Alice Maude Kyte, 9-Florence E. Provost, 5-Paul England and Co., 2-A. P. Redington, 3-Nellie Caldwell,
7-J. S. Tennant, ax Fred. Thwaits, I Eliza L. McCook, 7- Maud and Sadie, 3- Georgia Harlan, 5- Charles H. Parmly, 7-
Kate Flemming, 5-Nathalie and Mary, 8-Sadie L.Rhodes, 3-Mother and I, 4-Ruhtra and Oeht, 5-Daisy ail, 5- Allen H. C., 8
--Anne Lovitt, 9-W. Manchester, I--Clara and her Aunt, o--Clara J. Child, a--M. S. G., 6-Wilde, 2-Madge Tolderlund, 8
-Sallie Viles, x--Three Robins, 7-Lyde McKinney, 5-Sid and I, 8-Geo. J. Fiske, 7-Appleton H., o--Edith McKeever and
Amy Elliott, Florence Leslie Kyte, o-Harry Johnston, 7. The numerals denote the number of puzzles solved.







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