Front Cover
 How Johnnie's men struck work
 The fiddlers three
 Recollections of a drummer-boy
 How Gip played with the ball
 The story of Robin Hood
 A back-yard party
 How to build a catamaran
 The story of a brave girl
 The Tinkham brothers' tide-mil...
 Archibald Stone's mistake
 Maggie Darnley's experiments
 The toy pistol
 Swept away
 The adventures of Rana Pip
 Sweet Peas
 The Brooklyn bridge
 The blue jay
 Work and play for young folk: VII,...
 Silk culture for girls
 Made by a silk-worm
 A convention of amateur journa...
 "A shark in sight" - A prize...
 Robert Burns - A prize composi...
 Robert Burns
 The committee's report
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover

Title: St. Nicholas
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00131
 Material Information
Title: St. Nicholas
Uniform Title: St. Nicholas (New York, N.Y.)
Alternate Title: Saint Nicholas
Physical Description: 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Publisher: Scribner
Place of Publication: New York
Publication Date: -c1943
Frequency: monthly
Subject: Children's literature -- Periodicals   ( lcsh )
Genre: periodical   ( marcgt )
Dates or Sequential Designation: -v. 67, no. 4 (Feb. 1940) ; v. 70, no. 1 (Mar. 1943)-v. 70, no. 4 (June 1943).
Dates or Sequential Designation: Began with: Vol. 1, no. 1, Nov. 1873.
Numbering Peculiarities: Suspended Mar. 1940-Feb. 1943; vols. 68-69 omitted.
Issuing Body: Published by: Century, Aug. 1881- ; by Educational Pub. Corp. -1940; by St. Nicholas Magazine, 1943.
General Note: Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
General Note: Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00065513
Volume ID: VID00131
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: oclc - 01764817
lccn - 04012675
 Related Items
Preceded by: Our young folks
Preceded by: Children's hour (Philadelphia, Penn.)
Preceded by: Little corporal
Preceded by: Schoolday magazine
Preceded by: Wide awake

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
        Page 642
    How Johnnie's men struck work
        Page 643
        Page 644
        Page 645
        Page 646
        Page 647
    The fiddlers three
        Page 648
    Recollections of a drummer-boy
        Page 649
        Page 650
        Page 651
        Page 652
        Page 653
    How Gip played with the ball
        Page 654
    The story of Robin Hood
        Page 655
        Page 656
        Page 657
        Page 658
    A back-yard party
        Page 659
        Page 660
    How to build a catamaran
        Page 661
        Page 662
        Page 663
        Page 664
    The story of a brave girl
        Page 665
        Page 666
    The Tinkham brothers' tide-mill
        Page 667
        Page 668
        Page 669
        Page 670
        Page 671
        Page 672
    Archibald Stone's mistake
        Page 673
    Maggie Darnley's experiments
        Page 674
    The toy pistol
        Page 675
        Page 676
    Swept away
        Page 677
        Page 678
        Page 679
        Page 680
        Page 681
        Page 682
        Page 683
        Page 684
    The adventures of Rana Pip
        Page 685
        Page 686
    Sweet Peas
        Page 687
    The Brooklyn bridge
        Page 688
        Page 689
        Page 690
        Page 691
        Page 692
        Page 693
        Page 694
        Page 695
        Page 696
        Page 697
        Page 698
        Page 699
    The blue jay
        Page 700
    Work and play for young folk: VII, brass work for boys and girls
        Page 701
        Page 702
        Page 703
        Page 704
    Silk culture for girls
        Page 705
        Page 706
    Made by a silk-worm
        Page 707
    A convention of amateur journalists
        Page 708
        Page 709
    "A shark in sight" - A prize composition
        Page 710
    Robert Burns - A prize composition
        Page 711
    Robert Burns
        Page 712
    The committee's report
        Page 713 (MULTIPLE)
        Page 714
        Page 715
    The letter-box
        Page 716
        Page 717
        Page 718
    The riddle-box
        Page 719
        Page 720
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text





M=- 4!-'- -

4 6-

("The Brooklyn Bridge."-Page 689.)

~ ~~C ~-~-~'-~-~-~-~- 111

;--- ;--"
-, --; ";


JULY, 1883.

[Copyright, 1883, by THE CENTURY CO.]



IT did seem strange that, just as soon as Mr.
Sparrow went to Colorado for his health, everything
about the creamery began to go wrong. Johnnie
had been determined that everything should go
right. He had told his father, over and over again,
that he need not feel the least uneasiness about
the business, because he should look after it.
Johnnie was not quite fifteen, but he was the
tallest boy in Potowka for his age, and when he
talked about managing the business while his
father was away, he always seemed to grow several
inches taller.
Smart? Johnnie had his own opinion about
that, and almost all Potowka was inclined to agree
with him.
He had won all the prizes there were to be won
at the grammar-school, and without seeming to try,
either, for he was never known to be studying when
he was wanted to join in any game, and every-
body said they had never had a Fourth-of-July
orator at Potowka who could equal him at decla-
mation. At a game of ball he was sure to be on
the winning side, and whenthere was a rowing
match on the river, everybody regarded it as a fore-
gone conclusion that Johnnie Sparrow would bring
his boat in ahead.
That was the kind of boy that Johnnie Sparrow
His father kept one of the largest stores in
Potowka, and a creamery besides. Johnnie did
not think much of the store, but the creamery
suited him. He had almost decided that the firm

should be John J. Sparrow & Son when he grew
up. When he was younger, he had thought that
he should run for Congress, or keep a livery stable,
but he found that with advancing years his am-
bitions changed.
He felt very proud when the long trains of
refrigerator cars went off laden with butter and
cheese, to fill orders that had come to Potowka,
the little village in the heart of Illinois, not only
from Chicago and St. Louis, but from far-away
New York and Boston. For no butter was sweeter
and yellower, no cheese had a richer flavor, than
that made in John J. Sparrow's creamery.
When a very large load was sent (fifteen tons
sometimes went at once) Johnnie felt as if every-
body would have a surfeit of butter, and it would
never be possible to sell any more. But still orders
kept coming-sometimes from the very city to
which the fifteen tons had just gone. It seemed
as if everybody must live on butter. Johnnie had
almost come to the conclusion that it was butter
that made the world go round. And he certainly
talked as if it were. He sternly rebuked his little
sister Minty, who held buttercups under people's
chins to see whether they loved butter.
"Everybody loves butter," he said. Anyway,
you must n't put it into people's heads that they
don't, because it might hurt the business! By
which you will see that Johnnie was of a prac-
tical turn of mind.
But he was not so practical but that he some-
times enjoyed revolving in his mind a scheme by



No. 9.


which the whole world was to be supplied with
butter from his father's creamery. He had dreams
of establishing an agency for the creamery in
Japan, and even in the Caniibal Islands. From
the north pole to the south there should not be a
spot where Sparrow & Son's butter was unknown.
Just how many cows they should have to keep,
and just how many men would be required to col-
lect cream enough in the country around; just how
large a steam-engine they would need, and just
how many pigs it would take to eat up the butter-
milk, when that day came, he tried in vain to
calculate. But, then, arithmetic was not Johnnie's
strong point.
He had, however, very little doubt of his own
ability to manage such a business as that when he
grew up.
With such confidence in his power to do great
things, it was certainly very humiliating to Johnnie
that, just as soon as his father left for Colorado,
things began to go wrong in the creamery.
It was more aggravating from the fact that
Johnnie's uncle Daniel seemed to think that he had
been left in charge of the creamery, and when he
was unexpectedly called away to New York on busi-
ness, he patted Johnnie on the shoulder, and
"You 're getting to be a big boy, Johnnie; you
can keep an eye upon the business. I am sorry
that I 'm obliged to go away, but I know your
father trusts you a great deal, considering you 're
only a boy, and there 's Jotham Jenkinson, a good,
faithful man, to take the responsibility."
Very condescending, as you see, was Uncle
Daniel, who kept a hardware store, and scarcely
knew cream from skimmed milk. Johnnie had
resolved to show him whether he knew how to
manage the business or not-he whom Uncle Dan
called only a boy.
But, alas things had gone wrong.
In the first place, Jotham Jenkinson, the engin-
eer, fell ill of rheumatic fever, and there was
nobody to take his place. Johnnie made inquiries,
and sent letters far and wide, but it was in a
busy season, and every man who understood run-
ning an engine was occupied. Young Jotham
Jenkinson thought he could run the engine about
as well as his father, but young Jotham was barely
sixteen, and everybody said a boy ought not to be
trusted with so responsible a position. The other
men did not like the idea of working under a boy,
and gave Johnnie to understand that they should
leave if he employed young Jotham.
In the meantime, work in the creamery was at a
stand-still. It did not pay to buy cream only to
grow sour, and the people who were in the habit
of supplying the creamery threatened to make an

engagement to sell their cream to a rival firm in
an adjoining town; and the men who collected the
cans of cream, although they received their pay
regularly, thought they had better offer their serv-
ices to the rival firm, since it certainly seemed
probable that the Potowka creamery would come
to an untimely end and throw them out of employ-
ment. The cream from their own cows was fed
to the pigs, but they knew the difference, or John-
nie fancied so, and grunted dolefully for their
accustomed buttermilk.
Orders came in thick and fast, with threatening
from the different firms to give their trade to those
who could supply them promptly. Johnnie was at
his wits' end. He had thought of telegraphing to
his father to ask what he should do, but the doctor
had said his father must have absolute freedom
from care, and such news might be seriously injuri-
ous to him.
He might telegraph to Uncle Daniel, but what
did Uncle Daniel know about it? Aunt Daniel had
come to the creamery, and had wrung her hands
because the pigs were eating all the cream, and had
said she should write to Uncle Daniel. She could
if she wanted to, but lie should n't, Johnnie said to
But something must be done. Johnnie felt as
if he should really become crazy, as he walked about
the creamery and looked at the engine that did n't
go, at the horses and wagons standing unused in the
stable, at the empty churns, the empty butter-
workers, and the pigs squealing for their butter-
One .day, he heard a man say that the creamery
never ought to have been left with nobody but a
boy to look after it." And that day Johnnie made
up his mind.
The first thing he did after that important event
happened was to go to see young Jotham Jenkin-
son. The two boys had a long conference behind
the wood-pile in young Jotham's back yard, John-
nie insisting upon privacy.
That the interview was satisfactory to Johnnie
might be inferred from the fact that he turned a
double somersault in the seclusion afforded by the
wood-pile after young Jotham had left him. Young
Jotham looked unusually serious as he returned to
the house, but he was an old boy for his years, and
had a great sense of responsibility about whatever
he undertook.
Johnnie was so grave and dignified when he
re-appeared on the main street that nobody would
have believed that wood-pile if it could have told
what it had seen.
He next made a call upon Absalom Decker.
Absalom was a boy of about Johnnie's own age,
who had worked more or less upon his father's



farm since he left off wearing dresses. He was not
a very brilliant scholar; he could do addition, if
you gave him time, and he professed a firm belief
that the earth was round, after being kept after
school every day for a month to find it out, and,
furthermore, having his faith aided by the school-
master's rattan. But he had a cloudy idea that
Patagonia was a suburb of Paris, and a strong
conviction that the Sultan of Turkey was a North
American Indian.
But Absalom was a marvel of strength and
toughness. He could do more work than any three
boys in Potowka; and as for lifting, there were
boys who believed he could lift the church and
carry it off on his back if he wanted to.
He was very slow of comprehension; it was a
long time before he seemed to get any idea of
Johnnie's plan, and then it required a great deal
of logic and persuasion to make him agree to do
what Johnnie wanted him to. He made so many
objections, in his slow, stammering way, that John-
nie almost lost heart, and quite lost his temper.
Absalom was so aggravating, sitting on the top
rail of the fence, with his hands in his pockets, and
his long legs dangling, saying:
You 're the ser-mar-mar-martest boy I ever saw,
Johnnie, but you ker-ker-can't do it Men always
work in a cre-cre-creamery, not b-b-boys. And
Jotham might be reading a b-b-book-he always
is reading a b-b-book-and let the b-b-boiler
burst, and b-b-blow up ev-everything. Or the
cars might go to ker-smash, and you'd lose all
your b-b-butter, or the ker-ker-cows get poisoned,
or your father get well, or your Uncle D-D-Daniel
come home, or s-s-something. S-s-something al-
ways does happen to a b-b-boy ""
But in the end Johnnie secured Absalom's serv-
ices, Absalom's father giving his consent, although
with a good deal of amusement, as if he regarded
it as a joke.
Three or four other boys Johnnie hired without
any difficulty, except in the matter of wages, they
considering that they ought to receive as much as.
men if they did the same work, while Johnnie
thought that when it came to the question of wages
boys were boys !
Johnnie went home, and with his grandest air
discharged the few remaining workmen from the
creamery. In less than an hour the rumor had
spread all over Potowka that Sparrow's creamery
had closed for good.
But, lo and behold the very next morning work
was resumed.
Collectors went over the old route and brought
the big cream-cans back full. Into the churns
went the cream, and the engine, starting up with as
much spirit as if it had never known an idle

moment, churned it into butter; it seemed to
Johnnie that he had never heard such a delightful
roar, and rush, and clatter. Strong hands moved
the butter from the churns to the butter-workers,
and with a whisk and a splash and a spatter the
engine worked it; and before night there were rows
and rows of tubs ready to be sent to the railroad
early in the morning, and the pigs' voices were
drowned in buttermilk !
And, as Patsy O'Brien, who took care of the pigs,
remarked: "The workmin was ivery man o' them
b'ys "
It must be acknowledged that Johnnie strutted
and tossed his head considerably about the streets
of Potowka the next day. The general topic of
conversation was the doings at the creamery ; and
while there were, some who ridiculed and prophe-
sied that the prosperity would be short, and
wondered where in the world Mr. Daniel Sparrow
was, that that boy was allowed to go on as he did,
there were others who had always known that
Johnnie was an uncommonly smart boy, and since
there was no work at the creamery that boys could
not do, they saw no reason why it could not be kept
running-provided, of course, that the boys did not
get tired of it.
The orders that came in were filled '" with
promptness and dispatch," to quote from telegrams
which Johnnie sent to both his father and Uncle
Daniel, and Aunt Daniel actually wept tears of
joy at seeing the pigs restored to their buttermilk
diet, and decided not to write to Uncle Daniel. A
letter came from Johnnie's mother, who was with
his father in Colorado, saying that it was gratifying
to hear that matters were going on so well at the
creamery, but his father's condition was such that
perhaps he had better say nothing about business
in his letters for awhile. His father was perfectly
confident that Jotham Jenkinson, the engineer,
would manage the business as well as it could be
done in his absence, and was able to keep it out of
his mind if he heard nothing to recall it to him.
Johnnie was sure that he should have no diffi-
culty in obeying that injunction, and he trusted
that nobody in Potowka would be so officious
as to write to his father that the engineer was dis-
abled, and boys were running the creamery. 'For
although his father was a very sensible man, he
might not be above the common prejudice about
boys, and think they were not fit to manage a
business and do the work alone.
Uncle Daniel wrote that he was especially glad
to hear that there was no trouble at the creamery,
because he found that he should be detained for
several weeks in New York. Johnnie felt that he
could be resigned to Uncle Daniel's absence for as
long a time as he found it convenient to stay.



Uncle Daniel never seemed to have the least
respect for boys, perhaps because he had none of
his own, and knew very little about them. He
would be sure to regard the doings at the creamery
as mere child's play, and feel it to be his duty to
make a revolution. For he thought the creamery
had been left in his charge. And Jotham Jenkin-
son, the engineer, thought it had been left in his.
But Johnnie thought that, as it belonged to his
father, it was clearly his right and duty to manage
it, and he meant to do it.
And now that his bold stroke had turned out so
well, he felt himself to be master of the situation.
A week passed, and work still went on prosper-
ously at the creamery. Absalom Decker had
thrashed Alonzo Herrick for spilling a can of butter-
milk all over him; and one of the collectors had
stopped his team so long to watch a base-ball
match that the cream had all soured; and half a
dozen cheeses had been gnawed by rats. But
Johnnie was not discouraged by these little mis-
adventures. He gravely admonished the guilty
boys, and got a dozen traps and half as many cats
to dispatch the rats; and he wisely argued that
he might have had the very same trials if he had
hired workmen instead of work-boys.
The boys became very proud of their position.
They fully believed Johnnie when he told them
that the work had never been so well done before,
and, strange as it may seem, that was the root
from which trouble sprang !
The boys decided that they ought to have higher
wages, but when they expressed that opinion to
Johnnie, he told them, with the firmness and deci-
sion which he thought becoming to a man of busi-
ness, that he should not pay them a penny more.
He was paying them more than they could earn in
any other way, and, besides, they felt a pride in the
business; there was no fear that any one of them
would leave, Johnnie said to himself. And he
adopted an independent and lordly bearing toward
them which was intended to show them that there
was not the slightest chance of his yielding to their
That night the boys held a council in Jotham
Jenkinson's back yard, behind that identical wood-
pile that had concealed Johnnie's somersault from
the public gaze.
Alonzo Herrick, who was the chief spokesman,
had a newspaper containing an account of a strike
of iron-workers in a Pennsylvania city, which he
read aloud to the boys, who listened with breathless
Potowka was in the midst of a farming region,
and strikes were almost unheard of; but they all
agreed with Alonzo Herrick that there was no
reason why Potowka boys should allow their rights

to be trampled upon -all except Absalom Decker;
he had some misgivings.
He "did n't know but they had b-b-better keep
right on, seeing Johnnie was n't one to give in
easy." But Absalom was soon brought to terms
by the other boys, and the momentous agreement
to strike for higher wages the next day was made,
and solemnly ratified.
So it happened that the next forenoon, just as
some extra orders came in, which it was very im-
portant to have filled at once, Johnnie went into
the creamery and found work stopped, with the
churns full of cream that was just beginning to
show little floating specks of butter, and the cream-
cans empty that should have gone out on their
daily routes to be filled with cream at the neighbor-
ing farms; with the butter-workers full of half-
worked butter, and the tubs and firkins that ought
to be filled and on their way to market still empty.
Johnnie might have been at a loss to understand
what it all meant if it had not been for placards
pasted upon the walls, with these astonishing sen-
timents, in very black letters, upon them: Down
with The Opresur!" Potowka Boys Never will
Be Slaves! "Good Work deserves Good
Wages!" Laber is King!" "Down with the
Tirant! Long Live the People! "We Must
and Will have Bread!"
Johnnie was considerably impressed. They cer-
tainly were very fine sentiments, even with their
glory somewhat marred by faulty spelling. He
felt guilty, as if he really were an "opresur and
a tirant."
But after he had reflected a little, and become
somewhat accustomed to these placards, with their
big black letters staring at him, and calling him
names, his feelings changed. Johnnie possessed a
liberal share of that lively commodity known as
temper. And it flared up.
If those boys. thought they could get the better
of him, and make him pay them more wages by
any such trick as that, they were mistaken! He
would get others to take their places at once.
But how? Johnnie's heart sank as that question
confronted him. He knew there was not a boy
in Potowka, except young Jotham Jenkinson, who
understood how to run the engine, and there was
scarcely one to be hired for the other work.
Suddenly, in the midst of his despair, a bright
idea struck Johnnie. There was a cheese manu-
factory at Yankton, a town twenty miles away,
from which he had heard that a good many boys
had been lately discharged. He had a vague recol-
lection of hearing that it was for misconduct that
they had been discharged, but they would be sure
to know something about the business, and one
could not be stopped by trifles in such an emer-




agency! If they were bad boys, Johnnie felt sure
that he could manage them. And in a very short
space of time he was on his way to Yankton, pre-
pared to offer almost any wages to the discharged
They were a rough-looking set,-Johnnie was
forced to acknowledge that to himself, but they
were big and strong, and two of them professed to
understand how to run an engine; so, although
they called him "young feller," and various other
slang names that tried his dignity, and persisted in
regarding his offers as a joke, Johnnie used all the
arguments he could think of to persuade them, and
they finally promised to go to Potowka the next
day, and see how they liked the looks of things."
On that next day, the boys who had disappeared,
not only from the creamery but from the streets
of the town, as suddenly as if the earth had opened
and swallowed them up, came slinking around the
creamery. In some way, they seemed to have got
an inkling of what was going to happen. (Johnnie
had confided it to a few intimate friends.) Young
Jotham Jenkinson and one or two others made
several shy hitches, and cast conciliatory glances
in Johnnie's direction, but Johnnie ignored them,
save for a scornful look. If only his new hands
came, as they had agreed, he should be master of
the situation, and could bid defiance to the strikers.
In any case, he would not take them back,
though they should get down on their knees to
And there the new hands were! A group of
rough-looking boys, probably just alighted from the
train, was coming up the road toward the creamery.
Very rough-looking they were. The guardians of
public morals in Potowka were very strict, and
Johnnie had some fear that his new workmen
would be arrested as suspicious and desperate-look-
ing characters before they reached the creamery.
But no such misfortune befell them; they came
shuffling and swaggering up to the creamery, while
the old hands, who had gathered themselves into
a group, looked at them and then at each other
in wonder and dismay.
Suddenly-if any of his movements could be
described as sudden-Absalom Decker planted
himself in the door-way.
Maybe you'd b-b-better not let them in here I
We might be apt to p-p-pitch them out," he said
to Johnnie.
"Remember what the strikers did that I read
about, boys I cried Alonzo Herrick, putting him-
self into a fighting attitude.
Well, now, if there 's going be fun, 't was n't
such a bad plan for us to come," said the biggest
of the new hands, proceeding, with great delibera-
tion, to take off his jacket.

Matters were assuming a serious aspect. John-
nie, who had a great horror of a disturbance, began
to have an uneasy consciousness that he was iot
going to be master of the situation; that position
was being rapidly taken out of his hands. The
queerest thing about it was that, now that these
Yankton roughs seemed about to engage in a fight
with the Potowka boys, Johnnie felt an impulse to
pitch in on the Potowka side. The origin of the
difficulty, and the fact that the Potowka boys were
the aggressors, seemed to escape his mind. Some
of the Potowka boys wavered and hung back a little
- the Yankton boys were so much larger, and were
evidently so much more used to warfare; but Absa-
lom Decker was evidently all ready to "grace
battle's brunt."
There was a kind of savage war-whoop, and a
wild rush, when suddenly into the midst of the
wile stepped Uncle Daniel! He had his port-
manteau in his hand, and his spectacles and tall
hat on awry. His clothes were very dusty, his
face was very red, and he was almost breathless
with haste and anger.
"A pretty state of things, upon my word!" he
cried, while the combatants fell back, but remained
in fighting attitude, as if all ready to resume hostil-
ities the moment the interruption should be over.
"A pretty state of things! Half the men in
Potowka writing to me to come home and save
the creamery from going to ruin I And I should
think it was time! Hiring a lot of boys to run
the creamery Why was n't I informed that the
engineer was sick ? I never heard of a boy taking
so much upon himself since I was born But it's
a good deal the fault of your bringing up, and I
shall tell your father so When I was young, boys
were kept in their places! It's a wonder you
have n't been chosen Selectman before this time !
Maybe that's too small business for you, though!
I expect you 'll be running for President in a year
or two "
All these unpleasant remarks Johnnie bore with
meekness. Uncle Daniel had come at an oppor-
tune moment, and the relief that Johnnie felt in his
presence made the sting of his words less hard to
Now I would have you to understand," pursued
Uncle Daniel, turning from Johnnie to the crowd
of boys, that I am the manager of this creamery,
and I don't want to hire any boys! The sooner
you're off the premises the better "
The Yankton boys demurred, and made some
threats of thrashing Johnnie for getting them there
under false pretenses, but they finally decided that
discretion was the better part of valor, and moved
The Potowka boys gathered around Johnnie,




their late opresur" and tirant," with an air of
Sympathy and good-fellowship.
I telegraphed to your father how things were
going," said Uncle Daniel, and asked him what
I should do, and here 's his answer! And he
drew a telegram from his pocket, and unfolded it
before Johnnie's eyes, and, what was worse, before
the eyes of all the boys. It contained these four
crushing words:
Send Johnnie to school."
D-d-don't you mind, Johnnie," said Absalom
Decker, "I t-t-told you so Folks are always
d-d-down on a b-b-boy."
If you had n't struck, it would have been all
right said Johnnie, returning to his grievances
against his friends, now that the common enemy
had departed. We were going on splendidly!
Boys are fools, anyway !"
It would have been all right if you had paid us

the wages that we ought to have had put in
Alonzo Herrick. Boys don't know how to man-
age business !"
"You would have struck before long if I had,"
grumbled Johnnie. You wanted to do it for the
fun of it! "
And there was a guilty look on the faces of the
boys !
At the Drumfield Academy, where Johnnie is a
pupil, the boys are often entertained by wonderful
stories of the success of the Potowka creamery when
Johnnie managed it; but just how Johnnie's man-
agement came to an end they have never had
explained to them.
Johnnie has decided that, after all, he shall not
have a creamery when he grows up. There are so
many vexations attendant upon a business life that
he has returned to his old plan of a future career,
and means to run for Congress.




d;: ,rj
'I ..s

I I.

"OLD KING COLE was a jolly old soul,
And a jolly old soul was he;
He called for his pipe, and he called for his bowl,
And he called for his fiddlers three."

Now who were the fiddlers? And what did they fiddle,
And where were the fiddlers three?
A fiddle for fiddles King Cole is a riddle-
The fiddlers are down by the sea.



^ A.
!" 'J






II. of the march and the excitement of battle we could
so far form not the slightest conception. It is my
A MUD-MARCH AND A SHAM BATTLE. purpose, in the present paper, to give the readers
of ST. NICHOLAS some little account of our first
WE had been lying in winter quarters at Belle mud-march, and the sham battle to which it led.
Plain some two months, early in the spring of 1863, It was Monday, April 20th, 1863, when we sud-
without having yet had much to vary the dull denly received orders for the march. As good
monotony of a soldier's ordinary life. There was, luck would have it, Andy and I had just finished
of course, plenty of work in the way of picket-duty a hearty meal on apple-fritters ; for by this time
and endless drilling, and an abundance of fun in we had repaired our chimney, which had been
the camp, of one kind or other ; but of the fatigues destroyed by the fire, and had already several




times prepared our fritters without burning our
house down over our heads in the operation.
Having finished our meal, we were lying lazily
back against our knapsacks, disputing whose turn
it was to wash the dishes, when Andy, half-catch-
ing the sound of an unusual order, with the nim-
bleness of a frog suddenly leaped out of the little
door in the side of our cabin into the Company
street, exclaiming:
What's that, Sergeant ? What's up ?"
Orders to move, that 's all," said the sergeant.
"Orders to move- that's what! Pack up imme-
Where are we going? queried a dozen voices
in chorus, as the boys tumbled out of their tents
and gathered about the sergeant in a group.
You tell me and I '11 tell you," answered the
sergeant, with a shrug of his shoulders, as he
shouted: "Pack up immediately, men We go
in light marching order. No knapsacks; only a
shelter or gum-blanket, and three days' rations in
your haversacks, and be lively now."
It was not long before we were all ready, our
haversacks duly supplied with hard-tack, pork,
coffee, and sugar, and our gum-blankets or shel-
ters, rolled and twisted into a shape somewhat
resembling an immense horse-collar, slung over
the shoulder diagonally across the body, as was
universally the custom with the troops when knap-
sacks were to be dispensed with in winter, or had
been thrown away in summer. We drummer-
boys, tightening our drums and tuning them
up with a tap-tap-tap of the drum-stick, took
station on the parade-ground upon the hill, await-
ing the adjutant's signal to beat the assembly.
At the first tap of our drums, the whole regiment,
in full view below us, poured out from its quar-
ters, like ants tumbling out of their hill when
disturbed by the thrust of a stick. As the men
fell into line and marched by companies up the
hill to the parade-ground, where the regiment was
ordinarily formed, cheer upon cheer went up ; for
the monotony of camp life was plainly at an end,
and we were at last to be up and doing, though
where, or how, or what, no one could tell.
When a drum-head is wet, it at once loses all
its charm and power, for it sounds as hoarse as a
frog. On the present occasion our drum-heads
were soon soaked, for it was raining hard. So,
unloosing the ropes, we slung our useless sheep-
skins over our shoulders, as the order was given:
Forward, route-step, march The order of
route-step" was always a merciful and welcome
command; for the readers of ST. NICHOLAS must
remember that troops on a march always go by the
"route-step." They march usually four abreast, but
make no effort to keep step; for marching in reg-

ular step, though good enough for a mile or two
on parade, would soon become intolerable if kept
up for any great distance. In route-step," each
man picks his way, selecting his steps at his pleas-
ure, and carrying or shifting his arms at his con-
venience. Even then marching is no easy matter,
especially when it is raining, and you are marching
over a clay soil. The soil about Belle Plain was
the toughest and most slippery clay in the world,
it seemed to us-at least, in the roads that wound
serpent-like around the hills, among which we
were marching, and where many a poor mule,
during the winter, stuck fast and had to be
pulled out, or, if that was impracticable, left to
die in his tracks after the harness had been ripped
off his back.
At first, however, we had tolerable marching,
for we took across the fields and kept well up on
the high ground as long as we could. We passed
some good farms and comfortable-looking houses,
where we should have liked to go in and buy some
bread and butter, or get some pie and milk; but
there was no time for that, for we made no halt
longer than was necessary to allow the rear to
"close up," and then were up and away again at
a swift pace.
The afternoon wore on. Night set in, and we
began to wonder, in all the simplicity of new
troops, whether Uncle Sam expected us to march
all night as well as all day. To make matters
worse, as night fell dark and drizzling, we left the
high ground and came out on the main road of
those regions: and if we never before knew what
Virginia mud was like, we knew it now. It was
knee-deep, and so sticky that, when you set one
foot down, you could scarcely pull out the other.
As for myself, I found my side-arms (if they deserve
to be dignified by that title) quite an incumbrance.
Drummer-boys carried no arms, except a straight,
thin sword fastened to a broad leather belt about
the waist. Of this we were at the outstart quite
proud, and kept it polished with great care. How-
ever, this "toad-sticker," as we called it, caused
us a world of trouble on this mud-march, and
well illustrated the saying that pride goes before
a fall." For as we groped about in the darkness,
and slid and plunged about in the mud, this
sword was forever getting tangled up with the
wearer's legs, and, whenever it came between his
knees, down he went sprawling on his face in the
mud. My own toad-sticker I handed to the quar-
termaster after this march was done, agreeing to
pay the price of it thrice over rather than to carry
it any more. The rest of the drummer-boys, I
believe, carried theirs as far as Chancellorsville,
and then solemnly hung them up on an oak tree
-where they are to this day, unless some one has




found them and carried them off as trophies of
We had a little darkey along on this mud-
march, who had an experience that night which
was as provoking to him as it was amusing to us.
The darkey's name was Bill. Other name he had
none, except Shorty," which had been given him
by the boys because of his remarkably short stat-
ure. For, although he was as strong and as old-
featured as a man, he was so dwarfed in size that
the name Shorty seemed to become him better
than his original name of Bill. Well, Shorty had
been employed by one of the captains as cook-
which office, on this occasion, seemed also to in-
clude the duties of a sumpter mule. For the cap-
tain, having an eye to comfort, had loaded the poor
darkey with a pack of blankets, tents, pans, and

we forded a creek, and kept still on and on, till at
last we were allowed to halt and fall out on either
side of the road into a last year's corn-field, to
" make fires and cook coffee."
To make a fire was an easy matter, notwith-
standing the rain. For some one or other always
had matches, and there were plenty of rails at hand,
and these were dry enough when split open by a
hatchet or ax. In a few moments the fence
around the corn-field was carried off, rail by rail,
and everywhere was heard the sound of axes or
hatchets, the premonitory symptoms of roaring
camp-fires, which were soon everywhere blazing
along the road.
"Harry," said my lieutenant, I have n't any
tin cup, and when you get your cup of coffee
cooked, I believe I '11 share it with you. May I?"


general camp equipage, so large and bulky, that
it is no exaggeration to say that Shorty's pack was
quite as large as himself. All along it had been a
wonder to us how he had managed to pull through
so far with all that immense bundle on his back;
but, with strength far beyond his size, he had
trudged on at the captain's heels over hill and
through field quite well, till we came at night-fall
to the main road. There, like many another
sumpter mule, he stuck fast in the mud, so that
he could not pull out either foot, and had to be
dragged out by force.
At length, in the thick darkness, no one being
able to see an inch before his face, we lost the
road. Torches were then lighted to find it. Then

"Certainly, Lieutenant. But where will I get
water to make the coffee? It 's so dark nobody
can see how the land lies so as to find a spring."
The lieutenant not being able to aid me with
any suggestions, I silently, and without telling
him what I was about, scooped up a tin cupful
of water (whether clean or muddy I could not tell
--it was too dark to see) out of a corn-furrow.
I had the less hesitation in doing so, because I
found all the rest were doing the same, and if
they could stand it, I could too. Tired as I
was, I could not help but be sensible of the
strange, weird appearance the troops presented,
as coming out of the surrounding darkness I faced
the brilliant light, with groups of busy men every-


where. There they sat, squatting about the fires,
each man with his quart tin cup suspended on his
iron ramrod, or on some convenient stick, and each
cager and impatient to be the first to bring his cup
to the boil. Thrusting my cup in among the
dozen others already smoking amid the crackling
flames, I soon had the pleasure of seeing the foam
rise to the surface- a sure indication that my
coffee was nearly done. When the lieutenant and
I had finished drinking it, I called his attention to
the half-inch of mud in the bottom of the cup, and
asked him how he liked coffee made out of water
taken from a last year's corn-furrow. First-rate,"
he replied, as he took out his tobacco-pouch and
pipe for a smoke-" first-rate. Gives it a good
flavor, you see."
"Fall in It was now half-past eleven o'clock,
and away we went again, slap-dash, in the thick
darkness and bottomless mud. At three o'clock in
the morning, during a brief halt, I fell asleep sitting
on my drum, and tumbled over into the road from
sheer exhaustion. Partly aroused by my fall, I
spread out my shelter on the road where the mud
seemed the shallowest, and lay down to sleep,
shivering like an aspen.
At six o'clock we were aroused. And a pretty
appearance we presented, for every man was cov-
ered with mud from neck to heels. However, day-
light having now come to our assistance, we marched
on in merrier mood toward Port Royal, a place or
village on the Rappahannock, some thirty miles
below Fredericksburg, and reached our destina-
tion about ten o'clock that forenoon.
As we emerged from the woods and came out
into the open fields, with the river in full view
about a quarter of a mile in front, we were per-
suaded that now at last we were to go into battle.
And so indeed it seemed, as the long column
halted in a corn-field a short distance from the
river, and the pontoon trains came up, and the
pioneers were sent forward to help lay the
bridge, and signal flags began flying, and officers
and orderlies began to gallop gaily over the field
of course we were now about to go into our first
"I guess we '11 have to cross the river, Harry,"
said Andy, as we stood beside a corn-shock and
watched the operations of the men engaged in
putting down the pontoons, and we '11 have to
go in on 'em and gobble 'em up."
Yes," answered I, gobbling up' is all right;
but suppose that over in the woods, on the other
side of the river yonder, there might happen to be
a lot of Johnnies watching us, and ready to sweep
down and gobble us up while we are crossing
the river eh? That would n't be nearly so
nice, would it ? "

Hah exclaimed Andy," I 'd like to see 'em
do it Look there There come the boys that 'll
drive the Johnnies through the brush "
Looking in the direction Andy was pointing,-
that is, away to the skirt of the woods in our rear,
-I beheld a battery of artillery coming up at full
gallop toward us, and making straight for the
"Just you wait, now," said Andy, with a trium-
phant snap of his fingers, "till you hear those old
bull-dogs begin to bark once, and you '11 see the
Johnnies get up and dust."
As the battery came near the spot where we
were standing, and could be plainly seen, I ex-
"Why, Andy, I don't believe those dogs can
bark at all! Don't you see? They are wooden
logs covered over with black gum-blankets and
mounted on the front wheels of wagons, and-as
sure as you 're alive, it's our Quartermaster on his
gray horse in command of the battery "
Well, I declare said Andy, with a look of
mingled surprise and disappointment.
There was no disputing the fact. Dummies they
were, those cannon which Andy had so exultingly
declared were to drive the Johnnies through the
brush. And we began at once to suspect that this
whole mud-march was only a miserable ruse or
feint of war, got up expressly for the purpose of
deceiving the enemy, so that there was n't going to
be any battle after all! Such indeed, as we learned
later, was the true state of the case. But, never-
theless, the pioneers went on putting down the
pontoon boats for a bridge, and our gallant Quarter-
master, on his bob-tail gray, with drawn sword,
and shouting out his commands like a major-gen-
eral, swept by us with his battery of wooden guns,
and away out into the field like a whirlwind, appar-
ently bent on the most bloody work imaginable.
Now the battery would dash up and unlimber and
get into position here; then, after an imaginary
discomfiture of the enemy at this point, away it
would dash on a gallop across the field and go
into position there, while the Quartermaster would
swing his sword and shout himself hoarse as if in
the very crisis of the battle.
It was, then, alas all a ruse, and there would
be no battle after all. About nine o'clock that
night we were all withdrawn from the river-side
under cover of darkness, and bivouacked in the
woods to our rear, where we were ordered to make
as many and as large fires as we could, so as to
attract the enemy's attention, and make him be-
lieve that the whole army of the Potomac was con-
centrating at that point; whereas, the truth was
that, instead of making any movement thirty miles
below Fredericksburg, the Union army, ten days




later, crossed the river thirty miles above Freder-
icksburg, and met the enemy at Chancellorsville.
But I have never forgotten our gallant Quarter-
master, and what a fine appearance he made as
the commanding officer of a battery of artillery.
It was an amusing sight, for my readers must
remember that a quartermaster, having to do only
with army supplies, was a non-combatant that is,
did no fighting, and, in most cases, "staid by the
stuff" among his army wagons, which were usually
far enough to the rear in time of battle.
Thinking of this little episode on our first mud-
march, the writer recalls a conversation he had
recently with a gentleman, his neighbor, who had
also been a quartermaster in the Union army:
I was down in Virginia on business last spring,"
said the ex-quartermaster, and I found the people
there very kind and friendly indeed. One man
came up to me, and says he :
Majhr, you were in the war, of course, were
you not?'
'Yes,' said I, I was. But I was on the other
side of the fence. I was in the Union army.'
"'You were? Well, Major, did you ever kill
anybody ?'
'Lots of'cm!' said I. 'Lots of'em! '
'You don't say so said the Virginian; 'and
how did you generally kill them ?'
'Well,' said I, 'I never like to tell, because
bragging is not in my line; but I 'll tell you.- You

see, I never liked this thing of shooting people,
because I was a kind of Quaker, and had con-
scientious scruples about bearing arms. And so,
when the war broke out, I entered the army as a
quartermaster, thinking that in that position I
would n't have to kill anybody with a gun, anyhow.
But war is a dreadful thing-a dreadful thing, sir.
I found that even a quartermaster had to take a
hand at killing people, and the way I took for it
was this: I always managed to have a good, swift
horse, and as soon as things would begin to look a
little like fighting, and the big guns would begin to
go off, why I 'd clap spurs to my horse and make
for the rear as fast as ever I could; and then when
your people would come after me, they never could
catch me-they 'd always get out of breath trying
to come up to me; and in that way I've killed
dozens of your people, sir- dozens of 'em, and all
without powder or ball. They could n't catch me,
and always died for want of breath trying to get
hold of me "
We slept in the woods that night under the dark
pine trees and beside our great camp-fires; and
early the next morning took up, the line of march
for home. We marched all day over the hills, and,
as the sun was setting, came at last to a certain hill-
top whence we could look down upon the odd-
looking group of cabins and wigwams which we
recognized as our camp, and which we hailed with
cheers as our home.

(To be conltizued.)


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FOLLOWING the advice of a shrewd forester,
King Edward took five of his noblest and bravest
knights and went to an abbey, where they procured
monkish clothing and .i; ,,i..-. themselves as
ecclesiastics, the King donning the Abbot's apparel.
Thus completely transformed in appearance, they
set out to search for Robin Hood, guided on their
way by the forester, and followed by servants with
As they rode through the forest, they heard the
woodwile singing in the cool, shadowy tops of the
trees. The King was in a very gay mood. He
felt sure that Robin and his men could not pene-
trate his disguise or in any way discover his
identity. The guide, who, as I am inclined to
think, was really one of Robin's company, led the
way directly toward the trystel tree; but before
they reached it they were seized by some of Robin
Hood's watchful foresters, who took them to dine
with the chief, as was their custom when they
captured a rich company.
Robin took hold of the King's horse, and said:
Sir Abbot, we are yeomen and freemen of this
forest. We are the protectors and guardians of
the poor against the oppression of the rich. You
grind the bread from our poor people to make you
fat. Now, in turn, I shall take from you your
money, and divide it among the poor."
King Edward, adopting the tone and manner of
an abbot, said in reply:
I have but fifty pounds left. I have been with
the King and his nobles at Nottingham, and have
spent a great deal there. What I have left I give
you freely."
Robin took one-half of the money and gave it to
his yeomen; the rest he returned to the supposed
abbot, saying as he did so:
Keep this-I do not wish to cause any one to
suffer. We shall meet again some day."
This strange generosity touched the King. He
drew forth his broad seal, and handing it to Robin,
The King sends you his seal with greeting,
and cordially invites you to come to him at Notting-
ham and partake of his royal hospitality."
Robin knew the seal was genuine. He felt a
thrill of delight run through him. He had long

desired to become friendly with Edward, and get
his royal sanction to live unmolested in the forest
he loved so well. He bowed before the seal, and
said :
I love my -.",, ... : all men. In token of my
delight at this good word from the comely and
generous Edward, I bid you welcome to this forest,
and you shall dine with me under my trystel tree."
He took the King by the hand, and courteously
led him to the space where the yeomen usually
dined. Here he caused a sumptuous meal to be
spread. There was fat venison and roasted pheas-
ants and broiled trout, with wine and ale.
Robin lifted his bugle horn, so famous in song
and story, and blew a cheery blast upon it. In re-
sponse there came from all parts of the forest seven
score yeomen, all dressed in green mantles and
armed with beautiful yew bows. Each of them in
turn knelt on the ground before Robin Hood, as a
sign of their respect for him and of their readiness
to do his bidding.
This is a rare and beautiful sight," thought
King Edward. This outlaw's men are more
obedient and deferential to him than are my men
to me!"
When the dinner was ready, Robin Hood and
Little John waited upon the King, doing everything
in their power to please and entertain him.
"Eat and be merry, Sir Abbot," said Robin,
graciously, and a blessing on you for the good
tidings you have brought from the King. Before
you leave, I will show you how ne live and how we
sport in the greenwood, so that you may tell the
King when you go back to Nottingham."
The meal being now over, Robin Hood suddenly
gave a sharp signal, whereupon his men sprang up
and seized their bows in an instant. The King was
terribly frightened. He thought that he and his
followers were to be slain outright. He was mis-
taken, however, as he soon discovered. The yeo-
men were merely preparing to give an exhibition
of archery. Willow rods, two yards long, and
peeled so as to be bright and white, were set up to
be shot at. The King was surprised when he saw
the great distance to the marks. Hisbowmen could
not shoot so far with any accuracy by at least forty
A garland of wild roses was hung on each rod or
"Now," said Robin to his men, "whosoever
shall miss the garland at which he aims shall for-

*Copyright, 1882, by Maurice Thompson.


feit his arrow and shall receive a buffet with the hand Robin was surprised as well as pained. He
on the side of his head. No one shall be spared." stared at the King, and cried out: I vow you are
So they began to shoot, Robin joining in the a stalwart abbot! There is strength in your arm.
game. One yeoman missed his aim, and Robin You would make a good bowman and shoot well."
struck him a powerful slap, making the fellow's He looked searchingly into the King's face. He
head ring and ache. Gilbert with the white hand,
Little John, and Scatl].i. I...-I : I1 n -1 r- I-
as did many others oi ii 1 1. 1.-.:. .
it cam e Robin's turn .. ... ...- 1 ,..,, 1. '
cleaving the garland i i. li il.. I.
which by some miscl .i i ii. h., r .
finger's-widths wide *: .... I 1II.:. .
Gilbert with the whi' ..i -I 1.1
"Master, you mu ... I
your buffet. You 1
missed. Stand out, an. I

said Robin. Sir :
Abbot, I dehver ,
myforfeited arrowllhave

me a buffet on the '

side of the head."
SRobin was ciun

ning. He knew'
that the church-
men did not work r
or take any man-
ual exercise; ; ."
wherefore their
hands were soft
and their muscles
weak. A blow .'
from the Abbot's .' '
hand, he thought, ?A.. .
would not be
much to bear. -
"It does not -" ."
become one of my -
order to strike a
man," said the
King, speaking as
an abbot might. --
I fear I mav
hurt you." -
exclaimed Robin,
turning the side of his head to the King. I give had penetrated the disguise, and all of a sudden
you full liberty. It is our rule." he knew that Edward stood before him. At the
Then the King rolled up his sleeve and struck same instant the knight, Sir Richard at the Lea,
Robin Hood a tremendous slap, which knocked him also recognized the King. They both knelt upon
almost flat upon the ground. The yeomen were the ground, and Robin said:
astonished. How could an ecclesiastic show such I know you now, my King, and I beg your
strength ? Surely there must be some mistake. mercy for myself and all my merry men."


Upon one condition I can grant your request,"
said the King: you and all your company shall
go with me to my court and enter into my serv-
"I promise," said Robin. "I will take seven
score and three of the best archers in the world
into your service."
And now a happy thought came into Edward's
mind. He procured from Robin's store green
mantels for himself and his followers, which they
put on, and they took bows in their hands.
"Now," merrily cried the King, "let us go
back to Nottingham all together, as a band of good
So off they went, shooting at marks on the way.
Robin and the King rode side by side through the
green groves and along the shady lanes, their men
following in a jolly mood, singing and talking to-
gether. Robin and Edward gave each other heavy
buffets whenever the mark was missed by either,-
the winner buffeting the loser,-and they did not
spare each other a whit, but laid on with full
The people of Nottingham were greatly fright-
ened when this rollicking band of bowmen came
into the town. They knew the uniform of the out-
laws, and supposed that their King hadbeen killed,
and that Robin Hood had come with his men to
murder them all. They all, old and young,
male and female, rich and poor, fled, and left the
town deserted.
Edward enjoyed their consternation; but he
called them back and ordered a great feast. He
pardoned the outlaws, and restored the estates of Sir
Richard at the Lea. All the people of the country
rejoiced, and feasted, and danced under the trees.
When the King went back to London, Robin
and his men accompanied him, and they were
made a part of the Royal Band of Archers.
For a time this life at the King's court was
pleasant; but the men began at length to long for
their old happy days under the greenwood tree.
So, one by one, they slipped away and went back
to the forest, to chase the deer and shoot the pheas-
ant in freedom.
Finally, one day Robin went and knelt before the
King, saying:
My Lord, the King of England, I beg to go
back and visit Barnesdale. These seven nights I
have not slept a wink, and for seven days I have
not been able to eat even a morsel of food. I pray
you, let me go."
You may be gone seven days and no longer,"
said the King.
Robin thanked him, and seizing his good bow
he made haste to reach the greenwood.
It was a beautiful spring morning when he ar-
VOL. X--42.

rived in the forest near his trystel tree. The birds
he loved so well were singing cverywherc. The
perfume of wild flowers loaded the air. He was
A fat hart came bounding along. Robin bent
his bow and brought down the game. Then he
blew his bugle horn, as he had done of old. The
merry blast went echoing through the groves, and
the lurking yeomen, hearing it, knew that their
beloved chief had returned. They flocked around
him and fell upon their knees. Once more they
all were happy and free.
For twenty-two years longer Robin Hood lived
in the greenwood. The King could not get him
to again give up his merry life for all the gayeties
and splendors of the court.



THE years went merrily by. Robin Hood and
his bold men refused to submit to the King's
authority, because he upheld the right of the rich
nobles to oppress the poor by exacting exorbitant
taxes from them. Many expeditions were fitted
out and dispatched against the outlaws. All were
disastrously unsuccessful, though at times Robin
was forced to fly from town to town for fear of
At last the outlaw chief was beginning to grow
old and his strength was failing somewhat, when
the King ordered Sir William, a bold and powerful
knight, to take a hundred of the very best of the
English bowmen, and go make an end of the
rebellion of the foresters.
Go to bold Robin Hood," said the King,
"and tell him to surrender to my authority, or
else he and his men shall all be killed. Take a
hundred of my strongest and truest archers, armed
in the best manner, and lead them into the forest
till you find the outlaws."
Sir William answered that he would do the
King's bidding, and that he would fetch Robin
Hood, dead or alive, to the court.
It was midsummer when this carefully chosen
company'set out for the greenwood to search for
the merry bowmen of Sherwood and Barnesdale.
Their spears and swords, their bows and arrows,
and their gay uniforms, shone bravely as they
marched along.
When they had reached the forest, Sir William
bade his men halt and stay there with their bows
ready, while he went to summon the outlaws to sur-
render. In the midst of a grove, under a tent or
canopy, he found Robin, who, when told to sur-
render, stood up and defied the King and all his


armies. "So long," he cried, "as I have seven
score brave archers to do my bidding, I never will
be controlled by any king or his officers. Tell
them this for me."
Sir William then attempted to take Robin by
surprise, but one of the foresters, Locksley by
name, frustrated his plan.
Robin Hood blew his horn. The knight, Sir

--- -- -

r;. ~$~;-



ALL accounts affirm that Robin Hood lived to a
very old age, and at last died by treachery. He
had a cousin, who was the prioress of a nunnery
called Kirklees, and when he was aged and infirm,



William, blew his. In a moment the followers of
each rushed to the spot and formed about the
A terrible and bloody fight ensued, in which Sir
William was killed and his men driven from the
This was the last effort made to subdue the
merry greenwood rovers. Thenceforth they were
left free to dwell in the forests unmolested.
They shot the deer and caught the trout, they
helped the poor tillers of the soil against the usury
and tithe-taking of the rich, until at last wiser laws
were enacted, and the blessing of freedom was se-
cured to all.

and suffering from an attack of disease, he went to
her to be bled. In those days, blood-letting was
considered a remedy against many kinds of illness.
Robin was very sick when he reached the gate
of the nunnery, where he was met by his cousin.
Little thinking of treachery, he suffered her to con-
duct him to a room and open a vein in his arm.
There he was left bleeding. The door of the room
was locked, and the window was too high above
ground to admit of jumping out. He remained in
this state till the next day at noon, when he
thought to blow a blast on his horn. It was but a
quavering and feeble sound. One faithful soul
caught it, however. Little John was lingering




about, waiting to see his beloved master. When
he heard the mournful blast, he sprang up and hur-
ried to the nunnery. He broke locks and dashed
open doors until he reached the room where Robin
lay dying. He fell on his knees, and begged to be
allowed to burn Kirklees Hall and all the nunnery;
but Robin said: No, I never hurt a woman in
my life, nor a man in company with a woman, and
I will not allow such a thing to be done now. But
string my bow for me, and give me it and a broad
arrow, which I will shoot from the window, and
where that arrow falls there let my grave be dug.
Lay a green sod under my head and another at
my feet; and lay my bent bow by my side, for it
has always made sweet music for me."
This request was complied with by Little John.

The arrow that Robin shot fell under a tree, and
there the bold chief was buried. His death was
probably near the year 1300oo.
Some worthy historians have doubted whether
such a man as Robin Hood ever lived, and have
classed the stories of his exploits among the myths
of the past. It is hardly probable, however, that
this is the correct theory. The safer and more
reasonable conclusion would seem to be that Robin
Hood really reigned in the forests as represented,
but that many of the stories about him have been
exaggerated by the ballad singers and early writers
of England. I have taken what I thought to be
the simplest and most authentic incidents of the
outlaw's life, and have put them together for the
benefit of my young friends.




ONE evening bright there was a sight
That should recorded be.
All gazed in wonder-well they might-
Such funny things to see.

A neighbor's yard is smooth and hard,
And through the block extends,
And there came lively rats and mice,
-With town and country friends.

It may have been a wedding scene
They celebrated there,
A birthday party, or soiree,
Enjoyed in open air.

But this is plain, whatever train
Had brought the rogues that way,
From loft and lane and bins of grain,
A jovial troop were they.

The household cat, so sleek and fat,
Is by the servants fed,
And only leaves the rug or mat
To find her cream and bread.

So nought was there to harm or scare
The lively groups below
That danced and played in light and shade,
Or rambled to and fro.

No slaves were they to fashion's sway,
With all its outs and ins:

For some wore gauze or summer straws,
While others dressed in skins.

Beside the gate, upon a crate
That once held earthen ware,
An old musician, throned in state,
Gave many a pleasing air.

He scraped and paw'd and chopped and saw'd,
But never seemed to tire,
Though oft his bow would run as though
To set the strings on fire;

While at his side, in pomp and pride,
A knowing mouse was stalled,
And while the sets he sharply eyed,
The mazy dance he called:

"To partners bow the first, and now
To those on either side,
Across and back, the lady swing,
Now balance all! he cried.

'T was charming fun to see them run,
And curtsey, bow, and wheel,
Or slip and slide and trip and glide
Through some plantation reel.

The smallest mouse about the house,
And most destructive rat,
Danced half an hour with grace and power-
An Irish jig at that;



/ :Ii' 1. I~


* 1'i' -i II

i I I

&LA1E do : C

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.-4 z7


Upon a pan the dance began,
And round the yard they passed,
But dancing still for life, until
The rat gave out at last.

The Highland fling and pigeon-wing,
The polka and quadrille;
The waltz and schottish-everything-
Was found upon the bill,

The latest dance that came from France,
From Germany or Spain,
The most delightful hop or prance,
Their programme did contain.


And people who could gain a view
Of either jig or reel
Would hardly grudge the lively crew
A little corn or meal.

The moon was high and morning nigh
Before they quit their play,
To shake their paws and say "Good-bye,"
And pass in pairs away.

And when again they're in the vein
To pass a night in fun,
May we be nigh the window pane
Until the sport is done !




EVERY boy knows how hard it is to get permis-
sion to go sailing. His mother is sure he will be
drowned, and his father tells him to be careful" in
a way that clearly shows his wish that sail-boats had
never been invented. And though the boy himself
says, "'There is no danger," he knows, if he is
familiar with sailing, that there is nothing easier
than to capsize a cat-boat by a moment's careless-
ness or a little recklessness.
Now, if a boy had a boat which could neither
capsize nor sink, no reasonable mother would feel

any uneasiness as to his being drowned. If at the
same time this boat could outsail any ordinary sail-
boat; could carry twice as many people as a cat-
boat of the same length ; could be taken out of the
water and carried over a reef or a dam by two boys;
and could be built by any intelligent boy who is
handy with his tools, at a very slight expense, would
it not be just the thing that every boy ought to
have ?
The boat in question is what is called a cata-
maran-that is, a boat with two hulls. It is not


so fast as the wonderful Herreschoff catamaran,
but it is a great deal cheaper, drier, and more
roomy, and is in every way better suited for
cruising. Moreover, a boy can have the pleasure
of building it himself, and there is no better fun
than building a boat which, when it is launched,
answers all your expectations.
The first thing you need to do is to send to a
lumber-yard or saw-mill for four good pine planks,
fifteen feet long, eighteen inches wide, one inch
thick, and planed on both sides. It may be neces-
sary to have them sawed to order at -the mill, as
they are unusually large. The rest of the lumber
that you will want can be had at any carpenter's
shop, and a good deal of it you maybe able to find
at home in the shape of old boxes and strips of
Put two of the four planks aside, and busy your-
self at first only with the other two. Planks of
this size, if put in the water, would be sure ,\
to warp. To prevent this, screw acreo .:.,1-
side of each plank four strips of wood, .. i..l
three inches wide by three-quarters o: -'i
inch thick. These should be placed -
ularly, so as to divide each plank into
four divisions of exactly the same
size. Be sure that on one of the -
two planks these strips are seven- -
teen inches long instead of eighteen,
thus leaving a clear space an incl
wide along one edge of the plank.
The next thing is to shape the ends
of the planks. Begin three feet frorr.
the end, and cut away the wood, first
with a saw and then with a drawing-
knife, until you have a nice curve
extending from the point where you - began to cut to the end of the plank. -
When you are satisfied with this curve
-which is to be the bow of your boat
-lay the plank down on the other uncut plank
and mark out on it precisely the same curve. After
this is cut, then take the other ends of the two
planks, shape them in the same way, taking great
care that each one of the four curves shall be
precisely like every other one. The way they will
look after this part of the work is done is shown in
Fig. No. i.
Now lay one plank flat on the floor, with the side
on which the strips are fastened uppermost. Take
the other plank-the one with the seventeen-inch
strips-and stand it up on its edge close against
the one on the floor, having first white-leaded both
the edges that are to touch. (See Fig. 2.)
You will now see why the strips on one plank
were shorter than the other strips, for this has
enabled you to bring the edges of the planks close

together. Nail these edges together with galvan-
ized iron nails, using a good many of them, and
taking great care not to split the wood.
The next thing is to cut four pieces of three-
quarter-inch plank into the shape diagrammed in
Fig. 3.
The side A B is seventeen inches long, and the
side A C eighteen inches. These sides must form
a true right angle, and be made very smooth and
straight. When the four pieces are finished, white-
lead the edges and place them between the two
planks, so that they will lie close to the strips
which you secured to the planks to prevent them
from warping. Fasten them with long galvanized
screws, carefully countersinking the heads. Then
run a strip of quarter-inch white cedar, two inches
wide, from A to B, cutting mortises in the curved
edge of the four triangular pieces of wood to secure
it. (See Fig. No. 4.)
You have now the frame-work of one of the hulls
,* .:iir ,ii,..-I *.. while the chief object
I r... r-,. I, pieces of wood is to
i.! .. .: ri. ..:. i lanks, they are also
II -- ---------- meant to
:-- '- divide the
'- --. --- hull into
S .::.iil:.l. -r.' -. -,:i :. you can not be too
,:.Ir.!,! I.:. .i-ik,: .: points water-tight.
i.:. .. .:-, i, :.-.,: iron-work, and must
S,:i .: I r,.1 .. r he blacksmith to make
S t r We want three iron
-... l:.:r: I ir since they will be
----- u.:: : sockets we might as
S- well call them sockets) of
S- ---- the shape indicated in Fig.
-- i. 5, made out of iron, rather
More than an eighth of an
inch thick.
From A to B is four inch-
es, and from A to C the same. The iron should
be an inch and a half wide, and the two holes, H
and H, should be large enough for a quarter-inch
When the blacksmith has made these, then have
him make three other sockets out of half-inch rod-
iron, hammering the ends flat and piercing them
with holes countersunk for screws. (See Fig. 6.)
This round-iron socket is four inches wide, and
each arm ten inches long. The holes (H) are
for quarter-inch bolts. Order a double set of each
of these sockets, as you will need three of each
kind for each hull. The flat sockets are to be
placed on the upper side of your hull--the side
which is eighteen inches wide, the other side being
an inch narrower. One is to be placed exactly half-
way between the two ends of the plank, and the




others exactly three feet each from either end,
and they should all be placed about three inches
from the outer edge of the planks. These posi-
tions are indicated in diagrams 7 and 8, given
The other sockets are to be placed in the other
plank precisely on a line with the first three. Use
screw-bolts, with nuts for fastening all the sockets,
and put a thin leather washer under the part of
the iron which the bolt passes through, and an
oak washer under the nut on the other side.
Screw them on as tightly as possible, and put
plenty of white-lead on the under side. The iron and
the bolts ought to be galvanized, but if you live in
the country, you may not be able to have this done.
Your hull is now nearly ready to be covered with
canvas, but first you should give the inside a thick
coat of paint, and bore an inch hole through the
middle of the upper plank into each water-tight
compartment. Plug the holes with corks, and


should your hull spring a leak at any time'it will
always be possible for you to pump or empty out
the water. The canvas should be well oiled and
dried before it is used, and should be forty inches
wide. Place the keel-or the part of the hull
where the keel ought to be- in the middle of the
canvas, and tack it with copper tacks to the lower
edge of the plank, except on the two ends where
the plank is curved. Then bring the edges of
the canvas around both sides of the hull to the
upper plank, and tack them firmly. To fit the
canvas to the curves at the bow and stern is a more
difficult task, but it can be done with the exercise
of care and judgment. Perhaps your mother could
help you in this matter with her womanly ingenuity
in handling cloth. Remember when you are put-
ting on the canvas to strain it as tightly as possible.

Along the lower edge of the side-plank you must
fasten an oak or ash keel a quarter of an inch thick,
putting it on with screws, and painting the canvas
under it just before you put it on. By soaking it
in hot water-or, what is better, steaming it-you
can bend it to fit the bow and stern. Strips an
eighth of an inch thick should be screwed to the
outer edges of each of the triangular pieces of wood
that form the water-tight compartments, thus mak-
ing the canvas fit more closely to them than it
would were it fastened only with tacks. After all
is done, give the entire hull two heavy coats of
paint, and you can feel reasonably confident that
it will not leak.
One hull is now finished, and the second, which
is to be precisely like it in every respect, can be
built in much less time than the first one, thanks
to the experience you have gained. When they
are all ready, place them with their flat sides toward
one another and seven feet apart. Then take three
pine joists, four inches square and nine feet long,
and push them through the iron sockets, fastening
them with iron pins, dropped (not driven) through
the holes in the middle of the flat sockets. In the
drawing of the socket (Fig. 5), the hole for the
pin is marked P. These pins will prevent the joists
from slipping in either direction.
The catamaran is now ready for her deck. This
is simply a platform, nine feet square, made of
planks a quarter of an inch thick and six inches
wide. It is to be made double, the upper layer of
planks running fore and aft, the under layer run-
ning at right angles to the upper. Fasten them
firmly together with clinched copper nails, and
finally nail a quarter-inch strip of oak all around
the platform, so as to keep the water from the
edges of the planks. Every seam on both sides
must be carefully filled with white-lead.
The deck is to be fastened to the joists or deck-
beams with screw-bolts, and grooves must be cut
in it to receive the upper part of the iron sockets,
so that it will lie flat on the deck-beams. Four
good-sized bolts will hold it firmly. An iron ring
of the same thickness as the iron used for the flat
sockets, and supported by three iron legs in the
shape of a tripod, about eighteen or twenty inches
long, two of which should be bolted (with screw-
bolts) to the forward deck-beam, and the third to
the deck itself, will support the mast, the foot of
which will rest in a wooden step. A somewhat
similar piece of iron work, with a row-lock in place
of the ring, must be bolted to the aftermost deck-
beam, to hold the oar with which the boat is to be
steered, and also to enable you to scull her in case
you are becalmed.
Before rigging the boat, take an ordinary eight-
foot "A" tent and pitch it on the deck, fastening



the corners and the sides to little brass rings
screwed into the deck-the kind that will lie down
flat when not in use. Inside of the tent, and just
where the four ends are fastened, nail narrow strips
of wood, a quarter of an inch thick, to the deck.
These will keep the water out when it rains.
Now, take away your tent and rig your boat.
The sail should be fifteen feet in the boom, nine
feet in the gaff, fifteen feet in the luff,-or the edge
nearest the mast,-and nineteen feet in the leech.
You had better get a sail-maker to make the sail,
which is the only part of the work which you can
not do well yourself. Put a big ring-bolt in the
forward deck-beam to make your cable fast to when
you anchor, and also to hold your painter when
you want to make the boat fast to the dock. Put
a long oar on board to steer with, and you are now
ready to set sail.
It would be a good plan to put a little railing, if
it were only an inch high, around the deck, so as
to keep things from sliding overboard. All iron
work that is not galvanized should be thoroughly

painted, and whenever a screw is used it should be
dipped in white-lead, and its head covered with the
same material after it is driven home.
You will find that it is impossible to capsize your
catamaran. The mast and sail would be torn out
by the wind long before it would blow hard enough
to bury one hull and lift the other out of water.
The boat will sail fast either before or on the wind,
and, with the help of the steering oar, will tack
easily. Of course, if you run on the rocks, you
will knock a hole in the canvas, but such an injury
can be easily repaired, and the deck will float even
were both hulls full of water.
There is no better boat to cruise in than such a
catamaran. At night you anchor her, unship your
mast, pitch your tent, and sleep safely and com-
fortably. If you come to a dam, you can take the
craft apart, and carry her around it piece-meal.
If you once try to build a catamaran, and succeed,
-as you certainly will, if you have patience,- you
will have the safest and most comfortable sail-boat
in the world.


SI *.-


eN~ .I1 /







IF any of the readers of ST. NICHOLAS, happen-
ing to be in Albany, have gone down South Pearl
street as far as Schuyler, they have doubtless no-
ticed at the head of the latter what appears to be
a hill with the sloping sides cut off and a fence built
around it.
Now, this is not a hill, as its looks would indi-
cate, but merely the old level of the country,
which, as the city grew and people commenced to
dig away the land so that the streets might be
even, was left untouched, as we see it now.
If you open the gate in the fence and go up two
flights of stairs, you will find yourself facing a
white brick house with gabled roof, pretty front
porch, and large, pleasant windows, all telling of
peaceful times and happy days they had witnessed
before the Revolutionary War. Upon closer inspec-
tion, however, it will be seen that the window-blinds
are covered with iron and the extra thick door has
as many bars and bolts as a prison-signs that
there have also been stirring scenes enacted around
these walls. This was brave General Schuyler's
house, and it is about one of these very scenes
that I am going to tell you.
In the year 1781, while Clinton and Washington
were closely watching each other's movements in
the neighborhood of New York, there was com-
parative peace in the North, during which both
sides took a breathing spell and gathered strength
to plunge once more into the bloody strife.
At that time, the war was chiefly carried on in
the South, but the northern frontier was constantly
troubled by parties of Tories and Indians, who
would swoop down on some small settlement,
plunder the houses, and make off with whatever
they could lay their hands on.
During this time, Schuyler, having resigned the
command of the northern division, on account of
some unjust charges against him in connection
with the surrender of Fort Edward, was staying at
this house, which then stood alone outside the
stockade or wall of Albany. The British com-
mander, therefore, seeing his opportunity, sent out
John Walter Meyer, with a party of Tories and
Indians, to capture General Schuyler.
When they arrived at the outskirts of the city,
they learned from a Dutch laborer, whom they had
taken, that the General's house was guarded by
six soldiers, three watching in the day-time and
three at night. They then let the Dutchman go,

after having made him swear an oath of secrecy.
But this oath he did not keep very strictly, for the
minute the band was out of sight he took to his short
legs, and warned the General of their approach.
On one of those scorching August days, when
you feel as if you hardly had energy enough to
move, and when the very trees droop their dusty
leaves, too lazy to hold up their heads, Schuyler
and his family were sitting in the large hall, when
a servant entered, and told the General that there
was a strange man at the back door who wished to
see him.
Schuyler, understanding the trap, gathered his
family in one of the upper rooms, and giving
orders that the doors and windows be barred, fired
a pistol from one of the top-story windows to alarm
the neighborhood.
The guards, who had been lounging in the shade
of a tree, started to their feet at the sound of the
pistol; but alas, too late! for they found them-
selves surrounded by a crowd of dusky figures,
who bound them hand and foot before they had
time to resist.
And now you can imagine the little group col-
lected in that dark room up-stairs; the sturdy Gen-
eral, standing resolutely by the door, with his gun
in his hand, and his black slaves gathered around
him, each with some weapon; and at the other end of
the room, the women huddled together, some weep-
ing, some praying. Suddenly, a crash is heard
which chills the very blood, and brings vividly to
each one's mind the tales of Indian massacres so
common at that day. The band had broken in at
one of the windows.
At that moment, Mrs. Schuyler, springing to her
feet, rushed toward the door; for she remembered
that the baby, only a few months old, having been
forgotten in the hurry of flight, was asleep in its
cradle on the first floor. But the General, catching
her in his arms, told her that her life was of more
value than the child's, and that, if any one must go,
he would. While, however, this generous struggle
was going on, their third daughter, gliding past
them, was soon at the side of the cradle.
All was as black as night in the hall, except for
a small patch of light just at the foot of the stairs.
This came from the dining-room, where the Indians
could be seen pillaging the shelves, pulling down
the china, and quarreling with one another over
their ill-gotten booty.





How to get past this spot was the question, but the
girl did not hesitate. She reached the cradle un-
observed, and was just darting back with her pre-
cious burden when, by ill luck, one of the savages
happened to see her. Whiz! went his sharp
tomahawk within a few inches of the baby's head,
and, cleaving- an edge of the brave girl's dress,
stuck deep into the stair-rail.
Just then one of the Tories, seeing her flit by,
and supposing her to be a servant, called after

men: "Come on, my brave fellows! Surround
the house Secure the villains who are plunder-
ing!" The cowards knew that voice, and they
each and every one of them took to the woods as
fast as their legs would carry them, leaving the
General in possession of the field.
There is very little more I can tell you of the
brave girl, his daughter, except that later in life she
was married to Stephen Van Rensselaer (Patroon),
of Albany, and lived very happily in another inter-


her: "Wench, wench, where is your master?"
She, stopping for a moment, called back, Gone
to alarm the town! and, hurrying on, was soon
safe again with her father up-stairs.
And now, very nearly all the plunder having
been secured, the band was about to proceed to
the real object of the expedition, when the General,
raising one of the upper windows, called out in
lusty tones, as if commanding a large body of

testing old house on the extreme northern end of the
The old Schuyler house looks now as it looked
then, except that the back wing for the slaves has
been torn down, and some few alterations have
been made around the place; but when you are
shown the house, you can still see the dent in the
stair-rail made by that Indian's hatchet more than
a hundred years ago.







A BUSY night began. A lantern was lighted,
and lamps were carried to the mill. The two
younger boys were sent to. the village for a pickax
and a spade and some galvanized nails, while the
two older ones began at once to saw joists and
sharpen stakes.
Rush left them sawing and trimming, and argu-
ing again the question of a temporary dam; and
taking the lantern, with a hammer and a hatchet,
went out tofthe pile of fragments below the mill.
He set the lantern on the ground, and was occu-
pied in clearing the mud-sill of old nails and bits
of broken spilings, when a sound of oars working
in their row-locks told him that a boat was coming
up the river.
He heard voices, too; and these words, though
spoken in a low tone, were borne to him distinctly
over the water:
It will take 'em at least three days to rebuild
it, even if they have a chance. But they wont have
a chance."
"No, sir! There's no dam to bother us to-
night, and there never will be again "
Keep quiet! There's a light in the mill, and
there's one of 'em with a lantern "
The voices ceased suddenly, and Rush, who all
the while kept quietly at work, heard no more
until the boat drew near the mill. Then some one
on board called out derisively:
Where 's your dam ? "
It will make good fire-wood," said another,
what there is left of it."
Stop your nonsense, boys! said a third.
Don't hit fellows when they're down."
Thereupon Rush straightened himself up from
his work, and stood beside his lantern, hatchet in
hand, and gave the passing boat a haughty look,
with these words:
If you think the Tinkham brothers are down,
you '11 wake up some fine morning and find your-
selves mistaken. Don't keep any of your insolence
corked up on our account. We can stand it."
He got no reply; but heard low voices again,
after the boat had passed a few rods up the river.
That's the bloodthirsty one that was going to
knock Milt on the head with a bean-pole, and hove
the big rock at his boat this afternoon."

"Yes! and he looked just now as if he'd a
little rather fling his hatchet at us than not "
Rush went on prying off the broken ends of the
spilings. He fancied the boat passing the bridge,
and wished for a moment that he was there with
another big rock," to drop down gently and softly
on the Argonautic heads.
Then suddenly a startling thought flashed upon
him. He rose, gazed excitedly up the river, then,
stooping again, drew out and hammered down the
last of the nails.
This done, he stepped into Mr. Rumney's boat,
which had been hauled up beside the mill, placed
the lantern low in the stern with some broken
boards to hide it, pulled into the current, and fol-
lowed the other boat at a cautious distance.
His absence was soon noticed by Mart and Lute;
and as he did not return for nearly half an hour,
they grew more and more surprised at his going off
in that mysterious way, when time was precious.
At length he returned and walked into the mill,
where he found them still preparing material for
rebuilding and discussing plans. When they asked
where he had been, he replied with a counter
"Have you decided about the temporary dam
yet ?"
I rather think Mart agrees to it," answered
Lute, "though he has n't said as much yet.
know he hates the n-n-notion."
If we 're going to lay the mud-sill in the night,
I suppose we must manage somehow to keep the
water back," Mart admitted. "But I'm afraid
Lute's plan wont work well, and I hate to strip the
siding off the sheds."
Well! cried Rush, with ajoyous countenance,
"you need n't We 'll get along without Lute's
temporary dam. And we'll plant the mud-sill
without having much water to work in, either!
The Argonauts are going to help us "
"This is a poor time for a j-j-joke," said Lute,
"It's no joke at all," Rush replied, with eager
confidence. I 've looked the thing all over, and
I know what I'm talking about."
Mart laid down a piece of joist he was shaping
into a stake, and regarded his brother with solemn
scrutiny, saying, after a pause :
The boy is certainly crazy "
Hear my plan first," cried Rush; then, if you
don't say we can get the mud-sill in without trouble

*Copyright, 1882, by J. T. Trowbridge. All rights reserved.



or danger from the water, and have the dam all
built before high-tide to-morrow morning, I '11 give
you leave to put me into a straight-jacket."
Some folks say the age of m-m-miracles is n't
over," was Lute's cool comment; and now Rocket
is going to p-p-prove it."
"Go ahead," said Mart, "before I make any
more stakes. We've got enough for the permanent
dam already."
You wont need any more, I promise you."
The brothers listened, at first incredulously, then
with a respect which quickly grew to admiration,
as Rush proceeded to convince them that he was
not crazy, and that the plan he proposed was in no
sense a miracle.
Well, I declare, Rocket!" exclaimed Lute,
Syou 're a chip of the T-T-Tinkham block! How
did you ever happen to think of it? "
"Why, just as either of you would, if you had
been in my place," Rush replied, not at all anxious
to gain extraordinary credit for a scheme which his
older and more ingenious brothers had failed to hit
upon. I was trying to think of some trick I could
play off on the Argonauts, when it popped into my
"It never would have p-p-popped into a foolish
head! exclaimed Lute.
"Nor into a very crazy one, for that matter,"
Mart added. I owe you a humble apology,
Pshaw laughed Rush. It's all right, since
you see it as I do."
The three were earnestly talking over details of
the plan, when the younger brothers returned,
bringing the pickax and spade and the rust-proof
"They knew at the store what we wanted of
'em," said Rupert. One of the men asked if we
were going to build up the dam again to-morrow,
and I told him I did n't know."
That 's right, for you don't know," said Mart.
"Nobody can tell what may happen then, or
between now and then. Now, you youngsters go
to bed."
Oh, no !" Rupe exclaimed, in astonishment.
We are going to stay up and help," said Rod-
man. Why can't we? "
There '11 be nothing you can help about for
three or four hours," Mart explained. All we can
do before ebb-tide is to get ready. If you stay up,
you '11 be all tired out by that time, and good for
nothing. But go to bed now, and I'll have you
called at twelve or one o'clock. It will be moon-
light then; you 'll be fresh after your nap, and I
promise you some fun."
Will you surely call us ?" asked Rupert.
Surely, unless the bottom drops out of our

scheme, which does n't look likely now. Have your
old rubber boots ready to put on,- for you may
have to stand in mud and water,-and your worst
old clothes. We are going to put ours on."
Well, don't forget to call us. Come, Rod !"
The two youngest returned reluctantly to the
house, and went to bed. Excitement kept them
awake for a time, and they seemed hardly to have
fallen asleep when they felt somebody shaking
them, and heard a voice exclaim:
"Wake up wake up, boys You're wanted
at the dam "
Opening their sleepy eyes, they saw in the moon-
lit room a dim figure bending over them. It was
Letty, who had sat up with her mother, waiting
for a signal from the mill to call the sleepers.
"We 've only just come to bed," yawned the
confused Rodman.
You 've been in bed four hours," cried Letty.
" Now make haste, or the dam will be built before
you get there."
They were well aroused by this time; and quick-
ly putting on their old clothes and rubber boots,
they ran out to the bank of the river, where they
looked down on what appeared a scene of enchant-
It was a night of wonderful stillness and beauty.
The moon was high in the cloudless eastern heav-
ens, flooding the valley with its mild radiance,
by which they could see, beyond the black shadow
of the mill and in strange contrast with it, a sheet
of water, flashing with curves and streaks of silver
fire, not much more than ankle deep to three figures
that now appeared in the moonlight, crossing the
plashy and glimmering river-bed.
Rupe and Rod ran down the bank, marveling
more and more. There was no temporary dam to
be seen; and yet that pool, or rather a series of
such, connected by little runnels, shining here and
there amidst the black and oozy bottom, was all
that was left of the Tammoset River. The appear-
ance of fiery snakes was caused by the sparkling
wakes and ripples of hundreds of alewives, with
perhaps a few eels and other fish, darting and
writhing about, in the endeavor to escape into
deeper channels.
"Where 's all the water? cried Rupert, splash-
ing in where the older boys were at work.
Be quiet! said Rush, in a low voice. The
Argonauts are keeping it back for us."



THE older boys had evidently been busy while
the younger ones were asleep. They had, in fact,




not only got everything in readiness for rebuilding
the dam at low water, but, after putting out the
lights in the mill, they had embarked on what
Rush called an Argonautic expedition.
There was no regular meeting of the club that
night; but it was to have been expected that a
good many members would get together, to enjoy
the triumph they had that day achieved in the de-
struction of the dam. The upper windows of the
boat-house were lighted and open, and loud talk
and laughter resounded within, when the Tinkham
brothers rowed noiselessly by in the Rumney boat,
making careful observations, and waiting for the
Argonauts to disperse.
The tide had turned before they left the mill.
It would soon be going out rapidly. The time had
come for them to begin their secret night's work.
Yet nothing could be done until the last of the
Argonauts' boats had gone down the river.
The boys grew exceedingly anxious and im-
patient, as they floated about under the shadow of
the high shore, and counted the wasting moments.
"They never staid so late before," said Rush.
"They must crow and crow again over the old
dam," replied Mart. "Don't begrudge 'em that
short-lived satisfaction."
There goes a b-b-boat," said Lute.
In fact, one, two, three boats put out from the
shadow of the club-house, crossed the moonlit arm
of the lake, and disappeared at the outlet.
"There were only three moored at the float,"
said Rush. The way will soon be clear now."
At the same time the Argonauts could be heard
leaving the house on the shoreward side, and talk-
ing and laughing as they went up the lane to the
road. Still, lights were seen and voices heard
See here, boys," said Mart, we 're losing too
much time. It wont do!"
We must r-r-risk something or miss our
chance," said Lute. "Don't the fools know it's
time all honest folks were abed?"
A bold stroke was finally resolved upon, and the
boys paddled silently up to the side of the club-
house, where the platform lumber of which Mr.
Rumney had told Rush lay half in moonlight on
the bank.
While the lamps still shone and voices were
heard from the open windows overhead, one by
one, eight boards, each twelve feet long and a foot
in width, were slid down into the water, placed one
upon another, and lashed together. Then three
stout poles were selected from a pile designed for
posts to be driven down into the mud for the plat-
form to rest on, and launched in like manner with-
out noise. This done, the boat was pushed silently
off, boards and poles following darkly in tow.

A shout of laughter from the windows rang out
over the water as the Tinkham brothers, now in
their turn, emerged from the shadow of the boat-
house and rowed across the moonlit arm of the
Reaching the outlet, they pulled with strong
strokes, in the full, slow current, down to the
bridge. Under that they paused, and drew the
boards and poles alongside.
"So far, so g-g-good chuckled Lute.
The abutments had been already examined, and
the bed of the channel explored and cleared of
loose stones. A pole was now drawn forward and
set in an upright position, slightly leaning, against
the upper side of the bridge. Rush and Lute held
the boat against the stream, while Mart thrust the
pointed end down into the gravelly bottom.
A second pole was then placed still more slant-
ingly, a few feet nearer one of the solid granite
abutments. To these two uprights the boat was
made fast, broadside to the stream, and all hands
were free to work.
A board was now forced down edgewise, extend-
ing from the first post to the abutment, to be sup-
ported by them against the pressure of the current.
The second post was just outside of the board; it
served as a guide in placing it, and held it fast
when it was down. A heavy sledge-hammer was
used in the water, with a sort of churning stroke,
in driving the lower edge of the board into the bed
of the river.
A second board was placed in like manner as
the first, a third on that,.and finally a fourth put
into position; the upper edge of the last rising four
or five inches above the surface of the water.
The entire span of the bridge measured not
more than twenty feet, so that now the boys had
only to extend a similar set of boards from the first
post to the other abutment, in order to have a
complete gate across the channel.
They had worked cautiously at first, listening
often for footsteps approaching the bridge. As
none came, and it was getting late, they grew bold
in their movements, and worked rapidly, until, as
Mart was setting his third post in place, somebody
looked over the edge of the bridge, and called out,
"Halloo "
All was still in a moment, except the gurgle of
the water against the side of the boat; the boys,
hidden by the shadow beneath the bridge, keeping
quiet until another head peeped over, and another
voice said :
"What are you doing down there? "
Then Mart answered back, in as gruff and care-
less a tone as he could assume:
Did n't you ever see anybody spear eels ? "
It 's a queer place to be spearing eels, and a



queer way to do it," said one of the voices above.
" Look at that big pole "
"There's two more!" said the other voice.
" They're setting some sort of trap to catch ale-
wives. Come along! it 's awful late! "
The voices went off with the sound of hurrying
footsteps, and died away in the distance. The
brothers breathed again.
"They are Dempford Argonauts footing it
home," said Rush.
Good fellows said Mart, resuming his work.
" They help us best by lending their lumber and
getting out of our way. Now, give us a board."
The current was growing stronger and stronger
all the while, and by the time the third board of

I wont warrant either of those posts to stand long,
after the water begins to tear its way under."



THEY hastened to the mill, and floated the mud-
sill in place while there was yet water enough in
the fast-draining channel. It was a foot deep
when they began; it was not much more than
ankle-deep by the time they had got ready to make
the trench for it.
On the arrival of the younger boys, Mart and
Lute and Rupert began at once, with pick and

-1 'I,-...


the second set was in place, the water poured over
it in a cascade. A fourth shut it off; and then the
sledge-hammer was used again to drive each set
of boards firmly together and settle them still
deeper into the level river bed. The water under
the bridge fell away rapidly, the boat dropping
with it, and the brothers had the satisfaction of
seeing their extemporized gate emerge before them
like a dark wall.
As the pressure of water held the boards in
place, the two outside posts were now set inside, in a
row with the first, as assistant supports; and Mart,
getting upon the bridge, drove one after another
with all his might into the bed of the channel.
"Now, boys! he said, jumping down from the
abutment, "we must make the most of our time !

spade and hoe, to dig out the gravel beside the
old spilings; while Rush, with Rodman's assistance,
carried out a plan suggested by Lute for getting
rid of more of the water.
It was a modification of Lute's first idea of a
temporary dam. The mill-sluice was opened, and
the water that came down from above drained into
it by means of a diagonal line of boards set up
edgewise and supported by short stakes. A
hachet and a hoe, in lively hands, made a quick
job of it; and some of the same boards served
which were afterward to be used in the dam.
"We sha'n't care much for the water, youknow,
after the mud-sill is laid," said Rush; then those
boards can come up."
Meanwhile, the simple device was found exceed-




ingly useful. For though the water came down for
a time in a constantly dwindling stream, it began
at length to increase in volume, showing a con-
siderable escape at the bridge. The drain turned it
easily into the sluice, however; so that in throwing
out the loosened gravel the spade and hoes kept
the trench also tolerably free from water.
The moon shone brightly. It was not very hard
digging, and in an unexpectedly short time the
new bed was made ready for the mud-sill. This
was then pried into it, one side being set close
against the spilings, and secured in its position
by stakes driven close against the other side.
Each stake was then firmly nailed to the sill.
"This is j-j-jolly," said Lute. "Now if we
can only get the spilings nailed before there 's a
d-d-deluge "
To do that the boys had first to dig out some
of the gravel on the upper side of the spilings.
These they found in quite as good condition as
they had expected, and the sill being laid below
the line of broken tops, only two or three had
to be patched.
Never did young fellows work with greater
energy and speed. As they were now engaged
on the shady side of the row of spilings, Rod
held the lantern; and the digging done, Rupe
handed nails for the older ones to drive.
A strange sight they must have been in their
rubber boots, splashed clothes, and brigandish
hats, there in the glimmering river-bed, by
moonlight and lantern light, if only Dempford
and Tammoset had been awake to see! But
all around them the two towns lay fast asleep,
while the secret night work went on.
The rapid hammering made merry music to
the boys' ears; for they now felt that the most
difficult part of their task would soon be over.
Rush kept the water scooped out of the new
trench in advance of the nailers, and filled in
the gravel after them. The sill, which had
originally rested on the river bottom, was now
sunk to a level with its surface, only the notched
ends of the line of spilings being left sticking
out, "like the back fin of a b-b-buried sea-serpent,"
Lute said.
More than once in the meantime Rush had to
spring to his line of boards, which an ever-increas-
ing flow of water threatened to wash away. He,
however, managed to keep them in place until the
sill and spilings were safe, and the mud and gravel
packed against them.
Then the boards were to be nailed to the stakes.
And though that part of the work might have been
done in the water, it could be done much faster
out of it; and no time was lost in running on the
first tier.

There had been originally two tiers of foot-wide
planks above the sill. But now the sill had been
sunk, and in order to make the dam as high as be-
fore, three tiers would be necessary. For the first,
the boys used some narrower stuff they had, run-
ning it clear across the flash-board opening. The
best of the old planks served for the second.
Finally, for the upper tier, the boards were taken

from the diagonal drain. And it was time. A
rush of water was sweeping them away.
There must be a big wash-out under the Ar-
gonauts' gate Rush said. Do you suppose
there's any chance of the abutments being under-
mined, or that the bridge will be in danger ?"
"Let 'em be undermined! exclaimed Lute,
"and let the b-b-bridge be in danger! What 's
that to us?"
Good enough for Tammoset and Dempford,
for tearing our dam away said Rupe.
Besides," said Mart, with a nail in one corner
of his mouth, "after the bridge is gone, the little



Commodore's yacht can pass with the mast up.
That's to be considered."
No serious fears for the bridge were entertained,
however; and it was hoped that the gate would
hold until the flood-tide came to carry the borrowed
lumber back up into the lake.
As soon as the spilings were nailed, the two
younger boys had got a basket and a garden rake,
and gone to catching fish. The rake served to
snatch them out of the shallows in which they were
still flopping, and the basket was before long filled
with fine alewives, measuring nearly a foot in
length. As they were taken on their way up into
the lake to spawn, they were in excellent condition.
Eels, tdo, might have been secured, if the boys had
known how to hold the slippery creatures or to
keep them in the basket after they were caught.
One thing of interest they fished out of a pud-
dle; it was neither an eel nor an alewife, but a
small sledge-hammer which had been missing from
the back shop ever since the night when the blades
of the mill-wheel were broken. This discovery
confirmed their belief that it had been stolen for
the occasion, and afterward flung into the river.
Birds were now singing, and the brothers had
the growing daylight to finish their work by. The
platform and fish-way were repaired. The dam had
no apron," as Lute declared it ought to have,
and should have some day, to prevent the water
that poured over from washing out the river-bed
below, Dushee's way having been to fill with stones
and gravel any holes thus formed.
It was sunrise by the time the last plank was
sawed, and the end of the dam against the Demp-
ford shore stanched with stakes and earth. Then
the tide came up, meeting the water that came
down, and forcing it back. The boys put away
their tools and stood on the platform, splashed and
muddied, but picturesque and triumphant, regard-
ing their completed work.
Now let 'em come on with their writs to pro-
hibit .us from doing what is already done ex-
claimed Rush.
Writ or no writ," replied Mart, wiping his
bespattered face, "it 's something to say the dam
was back again by daylight the morning after the
two towns had their big jubilee tearing it away."
Besides," said Lute, it will let 'em know the
T-T-Tinkham brothers are no t-t-triflers. Now
hurry in, boys, with your fish, and tell Mother we
and the dam are right-side up with c-c-care."
The widow had been up nearly all night, keep-
ing her chair or her lounge, and sleeping little,
while anxiously awaiting the result of her sons'
extraordinary undertaking. Great, therefore, was
her joy when the younger ones came in, announc-
ing its success, and lugging their basket of fish.

Letty had gone to bed, but she, too, was now
awake, and had to get up and rejoice with her
mother over the good news. Then the three older
boys appeared, begrimed and streaked from head
to foot, from old slouched hats to rubber boots;
haggard but hilarious, hardly knowing they were
tired, but knowing very well they were hungry,
and eager for congratulations and gingerbread.
The pride and happiness of the little household
did not, it is to be presumed, prove extensively epi-
demic in the two towns when it was discovered, and
told swiftly from mouth to mouth, that the dam, after
being destroyed with such pomp and circumstance,
had been replaced as if by magic in a single night.
What the Argonauts thought of it after their
late jubilation does not appear. Some glimmer
of light is perhaps thrown upon the subject by an
article from the local newspaper, which I find
pasted in Mart's interesting scrap-book.
Much the larger part of it was evidently written
and set up in the silent hours of that same moonlit
night when the Tinkham brothers were busy with
their magic. A glowing description is given of the
magnificent uprising of the sister-towns, and the
inspiring spectacle of their united people gathering
in majesty and might, and putting an end to a
grievance which had been too long endured.
Only brief allusion is made to the appearance of
the crippled mother on the bank -"a somewhat
painful incident, which marred the otherwise perfect
satisfaction which must have filled every patriotic
heart on this glorious occasion."
Then follows this postscript:
Since the above was put in type, we have learned with very
great surprise that the dam has been rebuilt! Unable to credit so
astonishing a rumor, we dispatched our reporter to the spot early
the next forenoon, not doubting that those who started it were de-
ceived by some illusion.: He-found it only too true The dam had
been entirely reconstructed within twelve hours of the time when at
least two hundred people looked on and saw it, as was supposed,
finally and forever destroyed!
"How the feat was accomplished is a complete mystery. There
is evidence that the water was stopped at the bridge. Persons were
heard at work under it late that night-' spearing eels,' they said.
Some lumber belonging to the Argonauts was found adrift in the
lake the next morning, bearing such marks of rough usage that
there is no doubt it had played an important part in this strange
drama. It is believed that it was placed across the channel, between
the abutments, by means of posts, one of which still remained in
position against the upper railing of the bridge at ten o'clock the
next morning. The rest of the temporary gate, if there was one,
had been carried up into the lake at flood-tide. The posts-the
ends of which were found battered, like the edges of some of the
boards--had also been borrowed of the Argonauts. To make the
members of our honored boat-club contribute in this way to the
rebuilding of the dam was a piece of impudence which may be
termed simply colossal.
"Our reporter states that many Tammoset and Dempford people
visited the locality in the morning, to assure themselves, by the testi-
mony of their own eyes, that the dam was indeed there. Comments
were various. If the young mill-owners worked all night in re-
placing it, it would seem as if they must have required rest the
day after; but at ebb-tide the mill was going, and they were busy at
work as if nothing unusual had happened. The general impression
seems to be that, whatever else maybe said of them, they're smart."

(To be continued.)






ARCHIBALD STONE is Archie's name,
And Daisy Stone, that's Daisy;
Manmma's and Papa's are just the same, I
And mine-why, I am Maisy.

Daisy and I are twins, you know,
Exactly eight years old;
We are just alike from top to toe,
And our hair is just like gold.

And Archie he is almost ten,
And figures on a slate,
But does not add up rightly when
He says we are not eight.

For I have learned a little song-
Its name is Two Times Two";
That's why I know that Archie 's wrong,
For 'course the song is true.

Papa says not to worry more,
Nor vex my little pate;7 -
But Daisy's four and I am four,
And that makes us just eight.

VOL. X.-43.





"THERE!" said little Margaret Darnley in
despair, as she stood, broom in hand, at the north
door. The dust, and bits of paper, and string,
and clippings of cloth which she had been collect-
ing from all over the room with her broom, kept
drifting back persistently when she tried to sweep
them out at the door. And worse than all were
the feathers from the pillow of Myra's doll, which
were scattered in every direction. Myra did sew
dreadfully, and a pillow was the last thing she ever
ought to have made. And everybody knows what
hard things to sweep up feathers are. Margaret
leaned against the wall, tired out.
"Why don't you try the other door, Maggie ? "
asked her brother Jack, who sat by the window.
"That is just the queer part of it," said Mar-
garet. I tried the other door first, and it is just
as bad there. The wind can't blow in exactly oppo-
site directions at once, can it ? "
May be it shifted while you were sweeping the
dirt across the room," said Jack.
"Well, that 'would be funny," said Margaret;
"but I'll try it again. It will be a sort of nix-
periment, I guess."
"A sort of what? asked Jack.
"A nixperiment," said Margaret. "I listened
to your flosophy-teacher the other day, and Mr.
Baird said that everything in science had to be-
something by nixperiments."
Verified by experiments," said Jack, laughing.
" Yes, that's so, and now we 'll see if there 's any
philosophy about this dirt."
So Margaret swept the dirt carefully across the
room again, while Jack looked on.
There !" exclaimed Margaret, "look at that! "
Jack did look, and had to confess that it was too
much for his philosophy. Stop," said he, I'11
see which way the wind is really blowing." Mar-
garet shut the door and sat down to wait. The
poor little arms were quite tired by this time, for
Margaret was only ten years old, and was but just
learning to sweep.
"It's the stillest day we've had this season,"
cried Jack, bursting in. The weather-cock turns
tail to the south, so whatever wind there is comes
from the north. Let's try the south door again."
To the surprise of both Jack and Margaret, the
dirt, which had been so perverse and contrary, went
out this time without making much trouble.
"That's it-the wind shifted, don't you see,

Maggie ? said Jack, with a wise look. That's
the way with science. Science believes nothing till
it has thoroughly proved it. That's what experi-
ments are for, and that 's the beauty of science."
"Open the draft, Jack, and put in some more
wood. What makes this room so cold?" called
their father from a small adjoining room, which he
used as a study. "What's that you were saying
about science ? he added, with a quizzical look on
his face.
Jack, with a very grave and scientific look, ex-
plained their experiment in natural philosophy.
"Ah said his father, the wind shifted, did
it? How many times ? "
"Why, four times, Father," said Margaret.
"Just as quick as lightning-almost," she added,
seeing her father raise his eyebrows. I swept the
dust from one door to the other just as quick as I
could, but by the time I got there, the wind got
there too, and blew the dirt back every time."
"Suppose we try the experiment again," said
Mr. Darnley.
"Oh, I've swept all the dirt out now," said
Margaret, "for after we had tried and tried, it
finally went out quietly."
Well, here are a few feathers which gave you
the slip, little Pearlie," said her father. We can
try the experiment with them. Put in some more
wood and make the room pretty hot."
"What for, Father? asked Jack, who was not
very fond of carrying wood.
"It is necessary to our experiment," said his
Jack put in the wood. This was mysterious and
"Now, Maggie," said her father, when the room
was uncomfortably warm, get your broom and
sweep out these feathers."
"Which door, Father?" asked Margaret.
"It makes no difference," said her father;
"either door will do."
"Better let me look at the weather-vane again,"
said Jack.
"It is not necessary," said his father, smiling.
Margaret tried again, but the feathers all blew
back, some entirely across the room.
"There they are, Maggie, close to the south
door," said Mr. Darnley. I'11 shut this door, and
you may sweep them out at that one."
But Margaret had no better success than before.



"Is n't it curious said Jack. There must be
witches standing in the door, blowing the feathers
"That is what ignorant and superstitious people
would have said years ago, Jack," said his father,
" but science shall teach us better than that."
"Now," continued Mr. Darnley, "let us make
two piles of the feathers- one near the south and
the other near the north door. Jack, get another
broom for this pile. Now, both sweep in opposite
directions at the same time. That will show us
whether it is caused by the shifting of the wind."
Jack and Maggie tried faithfully, but the feathers
went every way but out of the doors, some of
them even rising toward the ceiling.
It's the cold day," said Jack; "they don't like
to go out."
"Father, what is the reason, please?" asked
Margaret, earnestly.
Hot airalways rises," replied Mr. Darnley.
Why? asked Margaret.
"Because," answered her father, "hot air is
lighter than cold. When it rises, of course cold
air rushes in to fill its place. When you open the
door, currents of cold air rush in at the bottom,
while the hot air is escaping at the top. Open the

door, Jack, and try to drive out a feather above
your head, while Maggie tries one at the floor."
The children did so, and found that, while the
feather at the bottom blew in, the one at the top
floated out.
But, Father," said Maggie, "we did sweep the
dirt out at last. Why was that? "
"Because you had let the room grow cold while
you were trying your experiments," said her father,
"and as the temperature became more like that
outside, the currents were less strong. That is the
way your wind shifted.' "
Jack looked foolish.'
"Science is a fine thing, my son," continued
his father, and great beauty and interest, as well
as importance, attach to its discoveries. But the
life and soul of science lie in its exactness and
thoroughness. A scientific experiment, to be worth
anything, must be thorough. You tried an experi-
ment half-way, and then jumped to a conclusion."
Mother," said Margaret, "how do you sweep
the dirt out? "
"I take it up on the dust-pan, Maggie dear,"
said her mother, smiling.
Jack and Maggie had both learned something
that morning.



HERE is a picture of a toy pistol. You see it has
a lock, a trigger, and a barrel, just like a real pistol.
There is even a sight "- a bead at the end of the
barrel to help you take aim. This is very funny,
because if you were to aim at anything with this
pistol, you would be sure not to hit it. When it is

_--- ,- '




fired it will make a noise, but it will not shoot any-
thing. For all this, it is truly a wonderful pistol.
It might kill a horse-if he could fire it. It is sure
to hit the boy who pulls the trigger. It is a sort

of boomerang, and fires backward. The fact is,
this pistol is a sham and a cheat. It is made of
cast-iron, and can fire neither powder nor shot.
If you wish to use this toy pistol, you must
get some caps. These are little dots or wafers of
paper, white on one side and red on the other. In
the picture you see that there is a wheel, having
large teeth on its edge, in front of the lock. Place
one of the paper caps on the wheel, between the
teeth. On drawing the trigger back, the wheel
turns over and the hammer moves back. Pull the
trigger, and the hammer falls on the cap, and it ex-
plodes with a flash of fire and a little report. To
fire it again you must put in a new cap.
Girls who have brothers who like to playfully
aim pistols at them will be charmed with this
pistol. The persons at whom it is aimed never
get hit. Many a boy who has fired it wishes
he had never touched it. As I have said, it is
a sort of boomerang, and like that remarkable
weapon, is sure to fire backward.




As I tried it once, I can tell you about it. First,
I twisted one of the caps around a match, and set
the match on fire. When the flame reached the
paper cap there was a little explosion. Suddenly
I felt a stinging sensation in- my hand, and, on
looking at it, I found several tiny black splinters
sticking in the skin. I pulled them out, but I felt
the pain for some time afterward. Then I placed
a cap on the hearth and struck it with a hammer.
This time I was well scared, and kept my hands as
far away as I could. When it went off I felt the
same stinging sensation in my left hand, which
was more than two feet away. I had been struck
again by a flying splinter. This thing was getting
decidedly dangerous, and when I took up the
pistol to try it, I carefully wrapped my right hand
in my handkerchief. It went off beautifully, but
-ah! There was the mischief! The handker-
chief was dotted here and there with the black
splinters from the exploded cap. I did n't fire
that pistol any more. Neither did I sell it nor
give it away. I sent it to an artist, that a picture
might be made for you all to see.
Now let us examine carefully the weapon on
the preceding page.

You notice that the
place where the cap is
put is entirely open.
When the hammer falls the cap ex-
plodes, and the burning paper and the
hot powder fly out in every direction-
except one. This pistol does not shoot
ahead or through the barrel. The thing you aim
at can laugh in your face, for the little projection
on the wheel keeps the shower of sparks back and
throws them upon your hand. The pistol kicks"
its whole charge right into the hand of the person
who fires. Certainly this is a capital pistol for boys
who wish to get hurt. It makes a pretty loud noise
and a good flash of fire, but it may prove a terrible
shot for the poor boy who fires it. The little burns
and cuts made in the hand by the flying sparks
sometimes bring on a strange illness, called the
lock-jaw, which is apt to prove fatal.
There are several other pistols that can be used
in this way. Some of them are pictured here, and
each one is warranted to hurt the boy who fires
it. Every one else will be perfectly safe, and
that, I am sure, is a great blessing. I gave some
of the caps used with these pistols to a chemist,
and he tells me they are composed of a mixture of
chlorate of potassium and sulphate of antimony.

These things may not of themselves be very harm-
ful, but the wounds they make are the same as
those made by gunpowder, and sure
to cause great pain, and perhaps
sickness and
death. O

Now, boys, if you
must have a gun,
why not wait till you are able to
use a real one with safety? In
this country, every man has a
right to carry a gun -not a pistol
or revolver, but a real musket or
rifle, to be used in defending the country. These pis-
tols are only toys, but they are very dangerous toys.
The Fourth of July is close at hand, when the
very air will crackle with reports of the toy pistol.
It is so safe, many ignorant persons think, because
it carries neither shot nor bullet. But look into
the newspapers on the day after the Fourth,-for
days after the Fourth, in fact,- and you will see
accounts of some of the innocent doings of the
pretty toy in every city in the country.
The insane desire of the small boy to carry a
pistol is one of the wonders of the age; and the
worse than folly of those who allow him to do so
is almost incredible. Of what use is it? If the pis-
tol will not go off, it is, as its owner would scornfully
express it, "no good." If it does go off, it is a dan-
gerous weapon that has power to maim and kill.
Did you ever think what it means to kill-to
take away life ? Who shall do so dire and terrible
a thing as that? Are you fit to have a pistol?
Are you wise enough to carry a revolver? No,
sir. It is against the law in some States to carry
pistols. Why, then, should you wish a toy-pis-
tol, that will shoot nothing but the boy
who holds it? -- If you live in the
backwoods, and have to fight
the terrible wild crow or

the ferocious chipmunk,
you may learn to use a
good rifle. In cities and
towns, where the most ter-
rific wild beasts to be seen
are the cats, a boy who carries a pistol is a boy
without sense-a boy whom girls despise and
brave boys call a coward.








SI WONDER," sighed Crab, when the stoppage
of the raft had lasted long enough for them to
recover their self-possession,-" I wonder if dat am
de end ob dis v'yage ?"
"I hardly think so," said Jack, for I don't
believe the tree, or whatever it is that detains us,
can hold the raft a great while."
"Why can't we shake it loose?" And Crab
began to set the structure rocking, by way of ex-
.periment. But Jack stopped him, expressing a
tear that he would loosen the logs and possibly
dismember the entire raft.
Jack then walked around the margin of the roof,

as close to the water as was prudent, peering into
the muddy depths, and trying to see what it was
that held them. He saw nothing, however.
What was to be the end of this?
Well might they ask the question, for, if they
were to remain anchored in this novel fashion,
escape would be impossible, unless some one came
to their rescue -which, in the present condition
of things, was scarcely to be expected.
Looking about, over the great, turbid sea that
was sweeping around them, they could discover
nothing that gave them any encouragement-
nothing but a confused mass of cabins, logs, trees,
planks, and everything that a vast river gathers
up when overspreading its banks for an extent
of thousands of square miles.
True, there were many people in sight as well, but

* Copyright, 1883, by Edward S. Ellis.



none who were so situated as to be able to give
them any assistance. All were sufficiently occu-
pied in endeavoring to secure their own safety,
without risking anything to help those who were
Far away to the south-west, a black streak stained
the sky, as though some giant had drawn his soiled
finger along the horizon; and, just beneath, a dark
object could be discerned creeping slowly along,
like the hour-hand across the face of a clock.
It was doubtless a steamer, but so far off that it
was idle to hope it would be attracted by the plight
of the children.
Fire off de gun! suggested Crab.
"What for ? asked Jack.
"Fur asalute,"replied the negro; "maybe dey'll
hear it and come ober to us."
Jack shook his head, with a half-smile.
It would be only throwing away so much am-
munition," said he. There is no more chance of
attracting their notice than that of the crowds on
the wharf at Vicksburg."
Den I would n't fire it," said Crab, who saw
that his companion spoke the truth.
There's something coming this way !" called
out Dollie, suddenly.
The boys could not imagine what she meant,
until she pointed directly up-stream, where they
presently espied what seemed to be a large log
floating on the current.
"That's going to strike the raft," said Jack,
" and more than likely it will knock us loose."
"Wont it knock us to pieces as well?" in-
quired Crab, anxiously.
I don't think the roof is put together so weakly
as that -" began Jack.
"That is n't a log interrupted Dollie, whose
eyesight for once seemed to be more acute than
that of the boys.
What is it, then? asked Jack.
It 's a boat!" she replied eagerly, clapping
her hands.
Such proved to be the fact. The discovery
naturally threw the children into a state of great
excitement, for, as it was coming straight toward
them, it offered the very means of escape they
When within less than a hundred yards, it was
seen to be a large flat-boat or scow, which stood
so high out of the water as to indicate that little
weight was in it.
"We must have that boat," said Jack, placing
himself on the upper part of the roof, where the
waters foamed and rolled over the shingles,
" though it will not be very easy to get it."
Curiously enough, the scow was drifting as di-
rectly toward the roof as if a skillful boatman was

steering it. But it was reasonable to expect that
it would swerve to one side just before reaching
them, inasmuch as the current itself was forced to
divide as it swept around their raft. Great care
and no little skill, therefore, would be required to
capture the prize.
Stand here by me," said Jack to Crab, and
the minute it comes close enough, reach out and
catch hold, but look out that you are not drawn
into the water."
Crab promised to do his best, and prepared
himself for action. The situation was exciting,
but it became much more so in a very few minutes.
The swiftness of the current was fully appre-
ciated for the first time when the scow, as it neared
them, plunged toward the raft as if about to split
it asunder.
Jack was afraid that he and Crab were about to
attempt an impossible thing; but as he fully realized
the value of such a craft to them in the present des-
perate state of affairs, he resolved to make the
strongest possible effort to secure it.
As he anticipated, the scow, when quite close to
them, swung partly around, so that it came quar-
tering, and was certain to approach near enough
for Jack to catch hold of the gunwale.
The instant it was within reach, and just as it
began swerving with the powerful eddy, Jack
stooped and, extending his right hand, grasped
the gunwale with all his might.
Almost at the same instant Crab did the same,
and both exerted their utmost strength to stop the
boat. But they miscalculated its momentum.
They were both jerked off the roof and into the
water like a flash, without in the least checking the
motion of the scow itself. Dollie uttered a scream
when she saw the two struggling in the river, and
sprang up and down in frantic alarm.
But, fortunately for Jack and Crab, they held
fast to the gunwale, and without difficulty drew
themselves over the side into the boat, where they
were safe.
But, brief as was the time occupied in doing this,
it had carried them a couple of rods below the
stationary roof, where Dollie stood looking at them,
the tears still running down her cheeks.
In the scow lay a long pole and a broad paddle.
Quick!" shouted Jack to Crab. "We must
work the boat back, or Dollie is lost! "
Jack caught up the paddle, and began plying it
desperately. Crab thrust the long pole into the
water, but, although he pushed it under until his
hand touched the surface, he did not reach bottom.
The lower end bounded up like a cork, and the
pole flew from his grasp. But he caught it again
before it got beyond reach.
Meanwhile, Jack plowed the water with the




broad paddle, with, however, only the effect of
turning the boat slowly around. He then plunged
it into the river on the other side, and put all his
strength into each stroke, while Crab, no less in
earnest, made a vigorous but futile attempt to use
the pole as a paddle.
They strained every nerve to the utmost, but, to
their consternation, the boat still continued to
drift down-stream, and further away from the
cabin on which poor Dollie stood, helplessly look-
ing at them.
They toiled against hope, not pausing until
they were fully two hundred yards away. Then
they stopped, and looked despairingly at the dis-
tance which separated them from the raft.
"It's no use," said Jack, in a hopeless tone.
"A dozen men could n't force this miserable scow
against such a current."
"And hab we got to leab Miss Dollie all alone?"
said the panting Crab.
There is no help for -
it," replied Jack, de-
spondently, hardly able
to keep back his tears. .
"What will become I -
ob us ?" said Crab, with ,
a heavy sigh. '
"What will become of .' .:
us!" repeated Jack, in- .
dignantly. "What is to
become of poor Dollie?" "
She's got all de per- A...
wisions," replied Crab, in 'i'' I
the most doleful of tones, i
and we hab n't so much ,. :'
as a bite-and I'm hun- 'Il
gry enough to eat a meet-
ing-house dis bery min-
ute." I ,-
Jack Lawrence made Ii 1 k i
no answer to the charac-l I
teristic outburst of Crab, --
who was evidently of the .
opinion that the situation _. ,
of the forsaken little girl '
was, after all, better than "GOOD-BYE, JACK."
their own: for she was
provided with enough food to last her a long time,
while they had not a mouthful.
But what was to be the fate of Dollie, who, a
mere child as she was, could do nothing for her-
Perhaps some passing steamer or boat might
see and take her off before she succumbed to
terror and exposure. But if no such help should
reach her, what then?
Ay,.indeed, what then?



GOOD-BYE, Jack! called Dollie, standing with
her apron to her eyes, and calling to her brother,
through her blinding tears.
"Good-bye, Dollie !" came back, in a tremu-
lous voice. Don't give up yet! Somebody will
come to take you off."
I will pray to the Lord to take care of you and
me," said Dollie, simply, and I know He '11 do it.
Good-bye, Crab "
The negro essayed to reply, but his voice failed
him, and he could only sob:
"Good-bye -Dollie- we'll neber see you
ag'in! I feel--so bad--I want to die! "
"Good-bye, dear Dollie Jack called out.
They exchanged endearing terms, and called to
each other as long as they could make their voices
heard. Dollie remained standing on the roof,
waving her handkerchief, as long as their brim-
ming eyes could make out her figure. Presently
they could see nothing but a fluttering speck in
the distance, and finally even that faded out
Crab seated himself on the gunwale, the picture
of woe, while Jack, with despair in every feature,
sat opposite. They bent their eyes on the bottom
of the boat for awhile without speaking.
Jack never felt more saddened and wretched in
all his life. The consciousness that the cruel flood
was carrying him further away every minute from
his loved sister was enough to have crushed a
stronger one than he.
He presently sprang to his feet and scanned the
waters in every direction, in quest of some one
whom he might send to the rescue of poor Dollie.
But there was nothing in view that could give the
least hope.
Not the faintest tint of smoke showed in the
leaden sky, which proved that there was no steam-
boat within many miles of them. There was ever
in sight innumerable wrecks and dc!;r;,i-, debris;
but everything was sweeping in the same direc-
tion-all rushing helplessly toward the far-away
Gulf, unable to stem the tremendous current.
Then Jack turned and peered up the river.
Was he mistaken, or did he really see a dark ob-
ject resting stationary on the waters, supporting
the slight figure of a little girl, who stood erect,
shading her)eyes with one hand while she waved a
tiny handkerchief with the other?
Possibly he did see such a sight, but, if so, it
was only for an instant. Then everything became
blurred, misty, and indistinct. Once more he
realized that he and Crab were alone and hurrying





on the gunwale, waiting for Crab to recover from
his strong emotion.
Withdrawing his thoughts from the sad subject
of his sister's fate, he now began to examine care-
fully the boat in which they were sitting.
It was fully twenty feet long by six in width, with
a depth of twofeet. The planks were thick, sound,
and strong, and the seams were so well caulked
that the interior was scarcely moist. The scow-


downward, and that every minute was taking them
further from poor Dollie, who could only pray and
hope and wait.
I thought at first that the boat was a great
prize," said Jack, rousing himself, "but it has
proven anything but that."
Dat's so," added Crab, whose regret and grief
seemed fully as great as that .-.f h; -.-.-.i,:- rI-it.-
"If I had an ax here, I bel .Ii. i .1 ..r-. .. : .!..
flat-boat all to pieces."
"That would n't do ar, ....I .:.I i-.
"What would become of
us then ? "
"Who cares what be-
comes ob us?" blubbered
Crab. "Does you? I don't,
I want you to understand /
wid poor little Dollie back .
dere cryin' her eyes out, and ---
we twocan'tdonuffin- --:
And once more Crab gave --
way to his sorrow, and sob-
bed as if unable to stop.

UNWALE." -" -

or, rather, -
flat-boat- '
was well
made, and -
would have be.
highly useful in many a place
in the submerged territory.
Bt. epren hrl

C 1 : ,, .:

1 '

r .-- ^- .." _-

--' ,
~t .L .

4 '-

I I'


'' fS

. -.

. y --


Grief, like mirth, is con-
tagious; and, though Jack had got the mastery of ferring Dollie and their luggage from the cabin
himself, his tears now flowed again in sympathy to the boat, it was by no means certain that the
with Crab's. But he soon rallied, and sat silently situation would have been thereby improved.



The scow was empty, save for its human freight
and the pole and the paddle which had been plied
so vainly against the resistless current. There was
nothing that could give a hint of the owner, or
tell where the craft had come from.
Gradually the grief of Crab subsided into occa-
sional sobs, and he finally ceased wiping his eyes.
With moist and shining cheeks, he looked across
at his young master.
Jack," said he, in a softened voice, dis am
what I call rough, don't you ? "
"Yes, it is dreadful," responded Jack. "I
could hardly feel worse if poor Dollie had been
drowned before our eyes."
"Is n't it purty near noon?" continued Crab,
skillfully leading the conversation toward his
favorite topic.
"I guess not, but there is no way of telling,"
said Jack, looking up at the sky; which was so
heavy and overcast that the position of the sun
could not be seen.
It seems to me dat it's been a week since de
night passed," pursued the negro, reflectively. I
was neber hungrier in all my life."
Crab," said Jack, impatiently, "'do stop think-
ing, if only for a few minutes, of something to
So I would," replied Crab, in a mournful tone,
"if I could only stop feeling hungry for dem few
"You may as well make up your mind that you
wont get anything to eat for two or three days,"
rejoined Jack, unrelentingly.
Poor Crab looked so horrified over the bare sug-
gestion of such a terrible fate that Jack hastened
to add: "That is, there is such a possibility, though
we will hope for something better."
"Yes, let's keep on hopin'," said Crab. "I
neber missed but one meal in all my life, and I
did n't get ober dat for a good many weeks, so
I don't want to try it ag'in."
Something at that moment scraped the bottom
of the boat. The sound was a rough, brushing
one, such as is made by the limb of a tree grazing
a swiftly moving board.
"We 're going over a piece of woods," said
Jack, his face lighting up with a sudden idea. See
whether you can't catch hold of one of the tree-
Here and there the tree-tops of which he spoke
could be seen, nodding and dipping after the
manner of sawyers "; and there were so many of
them visible that there could be no doubt they
were passing over a stretch of forest. But they
were of such a character that it was hard to find
anything that would hold. Although they seized
several branches, the treacherous twigs broke off

or slipped through their fingers without in the least
checking the progress of the boat.
Jack now took a careful look about him. Here
and there, over a space of a quarter of a mile, the
tree-tops reared their heads. Many of them were
scarcely visible, but a few projected considerably
above the water.
Yonder is a big tree that is n't much out of our
course," said he, presently, and we must reach
What for ? asked Crab, who did not seem to
have caught his companion's idea.
So as to hang on to it till the roof floats free
and comes down-stream," explained Jack.
"Dat's a good idee," replied Crab. "Let me
hab de paddle, and I'll make tings hum."
And so, in a figurative sense, he did. The task
was not a difficult one, and Jack soon saw that
the flat-boat would be driven straight among the
branches of the tree that had caught his eye.
"You've got it headed right, Crab," said he,
presently. You needn't paddle any more, but
hold the boat to its course."
I'm so mad at de ole scow," said Crab, as he
ceased paddling, "dat I'd jes' like to twist it
Jack made no answer to this childish remark,
but gave all his attention to the work before him.
The boat, if it should strike broadside, was likely
to overturn, and it was necessary to guard against
such a catastrophe, which would be fatal.
The best of fortune attended the effort: the
scow glided swiftly among the branches, and it so
happened that Jack and Crab each seized a limb
at the same moment.
They held fast, and the boat came to a stand-
still, pointing directly up and down the Mississippi.
The force required to maintain it in this position
was much less than they had anticipated, the slop-
ing bow of the boat allowing the swift current to
sweep under it with comparatively little resistance
when contrasted with the way in which it had
surged and boiled against their raft under similar



SO SLIGHT an exertion was required to hold the
scow stationary in the rapid current that the boys
saw it would be easy to maintain their position for
a long time.
This is all well enough," said Jack, after the
lapse of a quarter of an hour, :"but the trouble
is we don't know how soon the roof will move, or
whether it will move at all."



If de riber am risin', wont dat help tings? "
inquired Crab.
I did n't think of that," replied Jack, his face
brightening. It can't help freeing the roof. If
the water keeps on rising, it must lift the cabin
clear of whatever it has caught against."
"But den," suggested Crab, "s'posin' dat de
Massissipp am falling' or only standing' still-how
den ? "
Then I don't see that there is.much hope, for
there is nothing to loosen the cabin," replied Jack.
" However, we can soon tell whether the flood is
going down or not by the tree here."
It was tiresome work to sit motionless, and the
boys presently set themselves to find some means
of lightening the task.
Jack soon hit upon a plan. The tree to which
they had "anchored" was a sycamore, and the
more slender branches were easily twisted and
tied together, so as to make a firm knot. Through
this the end of the pole was forced, and laid across
the boat. Then, when one of the boys sat on the
pole, the scow was held as firmly in position as
before, while the strain on their hands was removed.
This was an improvement, but the tedious mo-
notony of waiting was not diminished. The air
was chilly, and Crab, whose coat was on the roof,
regretted more than once that he did not have it
with him.
While one of the boys held the pole in place and
kept the boat still, the other remained on his feet,
scanning the horizon, especially to the northward,
in quest of the precious raft on which little Dollie
Lawrence had been left.
Shuah as I lib, if dar aint a steam-boat!"
finally exclaimed the overjoyed Crab, indicating a
point to the west and a little below them.
There was a large boat indeed, the smoke pour-
ing from her two tall funnels, while her wheels
churned the current into yellow, muddy foam.
The pilot was at the wheel, and there appeared to
be plenty of passengers moving hither and thither,
principally occupied in surveying the waste of
waters around them. Two could be seen with
glasses leveled, apparently at something a long
way off. But all failed to notice the scow, stand-
ing motionless, half-buried in a bushy tree-top.
Crab and Jack shouted, and in turn waved their
arms and hats violently, and it was hardly possible
that they were not seen. But, if they were ob-
served, the boat did not change its course, and
was soon so far up the river that the boys gave
up their effort to attract the notice of those on
"Dat's what I call a mean piece ob business,"
said Crab, taking his seat on the pole and bang-
ing his hat on the bottom of the scow. "They

need n't pretend dat dey did n't obsarve us, when
I was jumpin' up and down all de time in front ob
"Of course they saw us," said Jack. "But they
must have concluded that we were well enough off
without taking us aboard."
"And dar's whar dey 're mistook," said Crab,
in a tone of dejection.
Crabapple Jackson was so indignant over the
action of the captain and pilot of the steamer that
he was anxious they should be punished in some
If dey did n't want to take us aboard," he con-
tinued, sulkily, "why did n't dey run alongside
and fling some perwisions to us, so dat we wont
starve to death-- Heigho "
"What's the matter?" asked Jack, a little
Dis pole am sort ob twistin' loose," explained
Crab, partly rising, and looking down as if to de-
mand what it meant. What makes it cut up in
dat sort ob style? "
I understand," said Jack. "The river is rising,
and it makes more strain on the pole as the other
end is lifted against the knot in the limbs. That
pleases me."
"So it does me," said Crab, earnestly, "if it
makes any better show for poor Dollie on de roof
up de riber."
It must help her," said Jack, with the empha-
sis of one who was determined to make himself be-
lieve the best.
Jack balanced himself on the side of the boat and
strained his eyes in every direction, in the hope of
catching sight of the old cabin on the roof of which
this strange voyage had been begun.
He could not, however, discover anything that
looked like it, and so he again took his seat on the
pole, which stretched across from one side to the
other. Crab then went to the bow, and balanced
himself on the gunwale for a search in his turn.
While he was doing so, Jack intently watched
the black, honest face, certain that he could read
success or failure there. Only a few minutes had
passed, when it seemed as though a ray of sunshine
flashed from the sky and illuminated the swarthy
"What is it? asked Jack, quickly..
'Clare to goodness! replied Crab, breath-
lessly, "if I don't see sumfin' dat looks bery like
dat same ole roof! "
At the risk of precipitating himself into the
water, he rose on tiptoe so as to gain an additional
inch or two in height; then he remained silent a
minute gazing up the river, while Jack studied his
face no less intently.
"Yes, I see sumfin' dat looks like de ole roof,"





repeated Crab to himself, and it am de roof, too /
- And I don't know, but I tinks I see sumfin' on
top dat looks like a little gal wavin' her handker-
chief- yes, it am a little gal which her name am
Dollie, and here goes tank de Lord "
And springing into the middle of the scow, Crab
flung his hat into the air and danced a most vigor-
ous breakdown, ending it by striking his heel
against the planking with a force that threatened
to start the seams. Then, with a face beaming
with delighted expectancy, he added:
Now, dar's a chance to get some dinner !"



JACK was so afraid that Crab had been mistaken
that he requested him to exchange places with him.
Then he carefully balanced himself on the prow
and gunwale, and looked up-stream.
There certainly was a dark object approaching,
which might well be the cabin they left anchored
among the trees, but for a minute or two he could
see nothing resembling the figure of a person
upon it.
Just as he was about to make a remark to that
effect, Crab inquired:
Don't you see her? standing' in de middle ob
de roof?"
I can not see anything at all," said Jack-
"but yet-hold on! he added, excitedly.
I thought so," said Crab, with a grin.
Yes, he now discerned a figure which a minute
or two later was recognized as that of a little girl,
who, of course, must be Dollie.
All doubt on that important point was removed
when Jack plainly observed the fluttering handker-
chief in her hand. She was signaling to her
friends that she was coming, though it was hardly
to be supposed that as yet she saw the scow among
the tree-tops.
A thrill of joy and gratitude too deep for words
went to the heart of Jack Lawrence when he real-
ized that his lost sister had been mercifully re-
stored to him (for there was no reason to fear any
difficulty in taking her from the cabin).
Crab was so overjoyed that, although obliged to
keep his weight on the cross-pole, he continued to
shuffle vigorously with his large feet, ending the
performance by banging one of his heels against
the p .I.i:',, on the bottom with sufficient force,
as it would seem, judging from the sound, to drive
a nail to its head.
Dat am de best ting dat could have happened,"
he said to himself; "for if dat steam-boat had
tooken us off, mebbe dey would n't hab had enough

to eat, while Dollie is sure to hab plenty, and it
can't be far from dinner time."
Only a few minutes passed before Dollie caught
sight of her brother, who was waving his cap and
shouting her name. The distance decreased so
fast that soon they were able to call to each other
without difficulty.
Halloo, Jack !" came in the clear voice he knew
so well. Are you and Crab all right ? "
Nothing is the matter with us--" Jack was
beginning, when Crab, speaking eagerly and in an
under-tone, interrupted him.
Jes' frow in an obserwation dat I 'm ready for
dinner and can't wait much longer; dat will lead
her to keep her eye on de bag ob perwisions."
Jack, however, chose to disregard the request of
Crab, who straightened his body as much as he
could while still sitting, so as to catch sight of the
cabin and its single passenger. Finally, unable
to restrain himself, he stood up, keeping one of
his feet on the pole to prevent its slipping away.
This gave him the desired view, and he became
so interested that he forgot himself until the pole
was suddenly wrenched from its place, and the
scow began moving down the current again.
"What's the matter?" demanded Jack, hastily
catching at one of the branches. "Why don't you
attend to your business, Crab ? "
The accident was of small importance, how-
ever, for it was an easy matter now to propel the
scow to the floating cabin, since their relative posi-
tions were the same as if the water was perfectly
As the boys had paddled considerably out of a
direct course to reach the tree, the cabin would
have gone some distance to their left had they
remained stationary until it had passed by.
But it was yet above them when Jack let go his
hold and seized the paddle, while Crab essayed to
assist his efforts with the pole; but, as before, it
proved of no use, as it did not reach the bottom.
As Jack began working the heavy boat toward
the cabin, he noticed that, since he had last seen
it, the cabin had settled so that the roof was now
almost flat on the surface. It looked as though
the structure was being gradually dismembered by
the action of the current. It was not unlikely that
even the shingles of the roof might soon separate.
A vigorous use of the large car sent the scow
steadily toward the raft on which Dollie was stand-
ing, with the gun, the bundle of clothing, and the
bag of provisions near her. Crab was quick to ob-
serve this latter article, and did all he could to
hasten the transfer.
"Wasn't it nice, after all?" asked Dollie, as
they came closer together. I did n't have to
wait long before the water just lifted me clear."



Did you see the steam-boat? inquired Jack.
"Yes," said she, with a smile, and I lay down
as low as I could on the roof, so they would n't see
"What under the sun did you do that for?"
asked her astonished brother.
"I was afraid they would come and take me
off," said she, naively.
But was n't that the best thing that could have
happened to you, Dollie? asked Jack, in a tone
of grave reproach.
"Perhaps so. But," she added, with a sweet
smile, "what would have become of you without me,
and how would you have got anything to eat?"
I declar' !" exclaimed the grinning Crab, "she
am de most sensiblest little ting along de Massis-
sipp. If dey had picked her up dey would n't hab
come back for us, and like as not we would n't
hab had any supper to-night arter going widout
dinner, too."
With little trouble the scow was swung around so
that the bow rested against the upper side of the
cabin, where it could be easily held. Crab kept his
place at the stern, while Jack stepped to the roof
and met his sister.
Oh, Jack, I am so glad to see you !" cried she,
as they met. And, with one bound, Dollie sprang
into the arms opened to receive her. The tears
ran down the cheeks of both as they embraced
each other, for their delight was beyond.words.
Then, as he gently released his sister, Jack led
her to the bow, where she was helped into the
Happy Crab shook the hand of the little girl
warmly, for' he was scarcely less overjoyed than
her brother.
Look out, Jack, that we don't float away and
leave you on the roof, just as you did me," said
the anxious Dollie.
Jack laughed, and replied that no such danger
could threaten while the raft and scow were float-
ing down-stream together.
The bag of food and the clothing were quickly
passed to the ready hands of Crab, and then, with
the gun in his grasp, Jack sprang into the boat.
Crab pushed the pole against the cabin, and
separated the two by a distance of several yards.

Good-bye called Dollie, waving her hand.
"I don't suppose we shall ever see our house
"If we do, it wont amount to much as a house,"
laughed her brother, ready to make light of any-
thing in his happiness over the recovery of his
precious sister.
"Dollie," suggested Crab at this point, "don't
you think it's 'bout dinner time ? "
"For mercy's sake, do give him something to
eat!" said Jack. He is n't able to wait another
The girl gladly waited on Crab, who devoured
the bacon and cold corn-bread as though he were
really famishing.
He was given twice as much as any one else,
and would have been glad of as much more. Jack,
however, prudently limited each to what he consid-
ered necessary.
The little party were now in a large scow, with
pole and paddle, provisions, and a double-barrel
gun. The last was loaded, but they had no more
ammunition, so that the two charges were all that
were at their command.
They had no means of telling where they were
in the flood, the extent of which was such that the
shore was invisible on the right and left. They
judged, however, that they had not yet reached
the mouth of the Arkansas, because in that case
an agitation of the current would have been
The hope of our voyagers was that they might
be seen by some steamer passing up or down, and
be taken aboard. Though their situation was
scarcely an enviable one, it was still far better
than that of thousands of others who were in-
volved in the unprecedented flood which devas-
tated the vast tract of country adjoining the lower
Mississippi and its tributaries during the month
of March, 1882.
Keep a bright lookout," said Jack, "and, if we
catch sight of a steamer, we '11 make for it. We
have seen three already, so it can't be so very
long before we run across another."
All scanned the waters in every direction, but
nothing was seen which could awaken hope of a
speedy rescue.

(To be continued.)





beautiful e,

thought even
the frogs would get out on --
the bank and watch the -'- "
sunset; but they were too
busy quarreling. Such shouts and groans came things the frogs were saying to each other, because
out of that pond You 're wrong, wrong, ong some thought it would rain, and some did n't.
Get down, ge'down, down! "Cheat, a cheat, Suddenly, while they were fighting, a boy
cheat! These were only a few of the dreadful pounced on Rana Pipiens, and carried him off.




Rana Pipiens belonged to the family of Ranas, but top of a house. Pip wished he was back in his
he put his last name first because he was a frog glass jar, for he thought surely that a heron had
(they don't put names the same way as we do), and got him, and was taking him up to a tree-top to eat
he was called Pip," for short. The boy carried him. Pip had an aunt's sister's cousin who had
him to town, and sold him to a man who kept a been eaten by a heron that way, and he remem-
flower store, and the man put him into a large bered it now, and was very badly frightened. But
glass jar full of water, and set him in the window, when he found himself taken into a large sunshiny
Pip rather liked his new quarters, room, and placed in another glass
and found abundant amusement y jar, he felt very much relieved.
in watching the peo- --- Close beside him he saw a pond
ple in the street. Aof water, cool and shady,
Sometimes young -. under dark bushes. "I
ladies came in to \ s- b-- -- shall get into that

buy flow- -V
ers, and 0
when they
looked at
Pip, and
said, "What 3
an awfully
funny creat- Z RANA PIP ADMIRE
ure "he felt ro JUMP
flattered. '
But he wished for another frog to talk to, and by
and by he wanted a larger place to swim in. Then
he grew very unhappy indeed, and was just think-
ing of starving himself to death, when some one
took him out of the jar, and carried him into the
street, and up ever so many flights of stairs to the

-- ,,,, said Pip
to himself.
But it was
-- only a picture
of a pond, and
Pip wasK kept
wondered why.
Presently fresh troubles began. A man sat down
in front of him, with pencil and paper, and watched
him. Pip did n't like to be stared at, so he turned
around in the jar. Then the man (who was an
artist) turned the jar around; till Pip faced him
again. This was provoking. Pip squatted flat, and



put down his head, and tried to look like a piece of
mud, the way he used to at home, when danger
threatened. But that was of no use either. The
artist shook the jar, and turned it nearly upside
down, till Pip got over his bashfulness, and behaved
as a model frog should-or as a frog should who
has been bought for a model.
This sort of thing was repeated on several days,
till Pip nearly wondered himself sick, trying to
imagine what was the matter with that man who
stared at him so much.
But one day Pip found himself alone, and no
cover on the jar. He was not long in getting out,
and, hopping over the table, he began to explore
this strange country. After he had knocked over
an inkstand, and upset a glass of water into a
drawer full of papers, he fell off on to the floor,
and tried to get into the picture of the pond. It
was surprising, but one good jump, which ought
to have taken him clear into the middle of the
pond, only knocked him flat on his back, and gave
him a headache. He gave up that pond as a
mystery. Presently he saw several happy-looking
frogs sitting together among some grass. They
looked just like his cousins of the Rana family; but
when he said "Good-day" to them, and remarked
that the pond of water here seemed to be frozen
hard, they never answered him a word, nor even
winked a wink at him. Pip concluded they were
huffed because he had not called on them before,
and he turned his mind to more discoveries. Three
pretty little ducks, yellow and fuzzy, were standing
on the wall, high above Pip's head. It was very
strange. Pip could almost hear them quack, and
he looked carefully around, for fear the old mother
duck might be after him. But none came; the
little ducks had no mother it seemed, and what
was more strange, they never moved, though Pip

looked steadily at them. It was a wonderful
place, this artist's studio; at least, it was to a frog
from the country. "There's a turtle, as sure as
my name is Rana Pipiens! exclaimed Pip, and
he looked around for a safe place. But the turtle
sat still on its log; so did the little turtles with it.
They never seemed to see that there was a fat
young frog close beside them. But Pip was too
frightened to investigate any further. He sat
perfectly still, under the table, in the shadow of
the waste-paper basket, while a few drops of ink
slowly dripped on him from the table-top. He
was very miserable, and when the artist came and
put him back in the jar, Pip could have thanked
him, he was so glad to feel safe again. These
strange adventures put Pip out of spirits, and he
no longer made a lively model, so the artist put
him in a tumbler of water, one day, tied a cloth
over the top to keep him safe, and carried him out
to the country. Pip could hardly believe his eyes
when he saw grass and trees again. Presently the
cloth was taken off, and Pip was gently rolled out
on the edge of a beautiful pond. Pip remembered
the strange, hard pond in the studio, and stopped
for half a minute. Then he caught sight of a
familiar frog face in the water. It is zmy pond "
cried Rana Pipiens; and with one leap he reached
the deep water, and was at home again.
Such stories Pip had to tell! Every evening,
that whole summer long, he sat on the shore, and
related his adventures, always beginning with:
" Ahem When I was in the country where ponds
are frozen green, and little ducks hang up in the
sky- But few of his family believed him.
These things were too wonderful. When he began
in this manner, they generally looked at each other,
put their right forefinger to their heads, and said,
" He's wrong, ong, ong! "



"PLEASE wear my rose-bud, for love, Papa,"
Said Phebe with eyes so blue.

"This sprig of myrtle put with it, Papa,
To tell of my love," said Prue.

Said Patience, "This'heart's-ease shall whisper,
Forget not my love is true."

Papa looked into the laughing eyes,
And answered, to each little girl's surprise:

" My darlings, I thank you, but dearer than these-
Forgive me -far dearer, are bonnie sweet peas."

Then he clasped them close to his heart so true,
And whispered, Sweet P's PIebe, Patience,
and Prue! "



----~--~- -


" I ', -' -

'/// -_ i I' '.T
I. 'H -ons

,, i I

':-- .... -/' _. -' __- I.i... "' F-I. .

... .-- ,




_. IL

/ ]i .









THERE is between the city of New York and the
city of Brooklyn an arm of the sea called the East
River. It extends along the east side of Man-
hattan Island, and it certainly looks like a river.
It was probably named the East River to distinguish
it from the North or Hudson River on the west
side of the island. For all that, it is not a river.
A real river, as you know, rises among the hills-
begins as a little rill in the grass, and glides down
through farms and forests to the sea. To the
south of New York City is the great New York
Bay, just at the angle where the coast of New
Jersey, which faces the east, meets the coast of
Long Island, which faces south. Long Island was
well named, for it extends all along the shore of
New York and Connecticut. Long Island Sound
begins near New York City, and spreads out wider
and wider toward the east till it meets the sea
near Rhode Island. This East River connects the
Sound with New York harbor, which opens through
the Narrows into New York Bay. Thus it happens
that the East River is a part of the sea. All the
sloops and steam-boats and ships and steamers com-
ing down the Hudson or from the ports scattered
along our Southern coast, and wishing to go to
ports on the Sound, pass through this narrow and
winding river. Steamers bound to Providence, to
Boston, past Cape Cod to Maine and the Eastern
Provinces, take this river to reach the great Sound
and the ocean beyond.
Day and night, summer and winter, an endless
procession of ships, steam-boats, canal-boats,
schooners, sloops, and barges sails or steams along
this arm of the sea. It is like a Broadway upon
the water, crowded with traffic. There comes a
fussy little tug, toiling along with four great schoon-
ers deep laden with coal. They have come from
the coal depots at Jersey City, and are bound
East. There is a big, lazy sloop, with a cargo of
red bricks. She has just dropped down the Hud-
son from Haverstraw, and is steering for some Con-
necticut port. Behind her, coming the other way,
just arrived from New London or Fall River, plows
along a monstrous steamer crowded with people.
What a queer tow that is! The tug-boat is drag-
ging a long string of canal-boats and old hulks
laden with lumber, oats, and corn. Perhaps they
came through the Erie Canal from the West, and
are going to Narragansett Bay. There are ships
from France and Norway, English steamers and
Italian barks, bound in or out, and never for a
VOL. X.-44.

moment is the water quiet. Perhaps a stately war-
ship, with tall, slender masts, regular sky-scrap-
ers," comes down from the Navy Yard and salutes
the forts with her roaring guns. The tide runs
swift and strong, and the waves leap in white
clouds of spray from the sharp bows of flying
steam-boats, or roll in surging billows from the
black stems of huge merchantmen. It is like a
bit of the great sea, with a city on either side.
There are more people living by the banks of
this arm of the sea than in any other place on this
continent. Nearly half a million people cross this
rough, swift-flowing water every day; and though
the ferry-boats are among the largest and best in the
world, the little voyage is at times long and dan-
gerous. Fogs sometimes delay the boats for hours,
and floating ice in winter often blocks the way so
that navigation is almost suspended.
"It seems to me they need a bridge at this
point," do I hear some bright boy say? That is
what other people thought, years ago, with the
result that to-day, as you are reading this, there is
a bridge, and you may walk from New York to
Brooklyn in any weather. Perhaps you think that
this is nothing worth talking about-all it was
necessary to do was to build a bridge. Let us see
about this.
The East River is an arm of the sea. You can
not bridge such water, because it belongs to the
nation, and every one has a right to sail there.
Beside, we must in honor permit the people of
other nations to sail their ships in our waters.
Such a place as this is called navigable water,
and the United States Government could not per-
mit navigable water to be obstructed by a bridge,
however convenient it might be for the people of
New York and Brooklyn. The New Jersey schoon-
er carrying coal to Connecticut, the Haverstraw
lighter laden with bricks, the boats from Boston,
the lumber sloops from Maine, and the vessels of
foreign nations as well, have a right to sail here,
and no man can stop them by building a bridge.
Why not have a draw-bridge? That is a sensi-
ble question; but when the ships and steamers are
as thick as the teams on Broadway, the draw would
have to be kept open all the time, and then what
would the people on the bridge do?
See that full-rigged ship coming down with the
tide, under the escort of that little tug. Look at
her tall masts. That pennant flying at her main-
top is more than one hundred feet above her decks.


Her masts are taller than many a church steeple.
If there is to be a bridge, it must take one grand
flying leap from shore to shore over the masts of
the ships. There can be no piers or draw-bridge.
There must be only one great arch all the way
across. Surely this must be a wonderful bridge.
When they first began to talk about bridging
the East River, there was much discussion as to
what kind of a bridge it should be. It might be
made of iron or wooden piles, driven into the bed
of the river, with the roadway on top.
Figure No. I represents in outline the plan on
which such a bridge would be built. The sloping

-L -.

lines at each side stand for the banks, and the
broken lines for the water of the river. The up-
right lines are the piles, and the roadway is shown
by the horizontal lines resting on the piles.
A bridge might also be built of stone, supported
by a number of arches resting on the bottom of
the river. Such a bridge is shown in Figure 2.



But neither of these two kinds would answer, for
there is no room for ships to pass.
Pile-bridges and bridges with arches have been
built for centuries. Figure 3 is an outline of a
very different kind of bridge, invented in modern
times. On either bank is a stone pier, and on these
rests a great iron box. Where such a bridge is

I ," I" '.. i"
.-..' _t_ _r
I ~ .I I *.' ii'

."_ .
--- -


used, the people cross the river by walking inside
this box, going in at one end and coming out at
the other. In this kind of bridge there are no piles
or arches to obstruct the river, and if the piers are
high enough, the ships can freely sail under the
big iron box. But a bridge built in this way over
the East River would not only be very difficult to
make, but it would have to be so high up in the
air that it would be liable to be blown down.

Suppose two posts be set up on one bank of a
river, and two more on the other bank, directly
opposite. Then suppose a rope was stretched from


one post on one side of the river to the opposite
post, and a second rope was stretched between the
other posts. Then if short boards were laid on
the two ropes they would make a hanging bridge.
(See Fig. 4.) This style of bridge was used by
the Chinese so long ago that no one can tell who
first thought of it or tried to make one. Perhaps
the old builder got the idea from seeing a grape-
vine hanging from tree to tree over a brook.
On other pages are pictures of the finished
bridge. Which is it, a pile bridge, an arched
bridge, a box bridge, or is it a hanging bridge?
Clearly it is a hanging bridge. You can easily
pick out the ropes stretching over the river. This
form of bridge is called a suspension bridge be-
cause it is hung, or suspended, over the river. If
you study the pictures, you will see that the ropes
or cables hang down in the center and are lowest
over the middle of the river. But even a suspen-
sion bridge must be high enough to enable ships
to pass under. So it is the custom in building such
bridges to raise the cables on towers, and thus
make room under the bridge.
In Figure 4 you see the rope is made fast to
the post on one shore, carried over the top of the
tower that stands at the edge of the bank, and
stretched across the river to the top of the opposite
tower. On this side it is likewise fastened to a
post or stone pier. Of course, the people who
cross such a bridge would not find it convenient
to go over the top of the towers. What shall they
do ? Look once more at the pictures of the bridge.
See the slender lines hanging down from the
cables. These are called the suspenders. Each
one,is fastened to the cable and supports the end
of an iron beam. So it appears there are beams
hung in the air under the cables, and on these
beams is laid the roadway. The towers have
arches, and the men and horses pass under the
arches and over the hanging bridge. Study the
pictures on page 688, and you will see just how all
this has been done.
Now, while the idea on which this bridge is
built is so simple, the real work was a great labor,
costing millions of dollars and occupying years of
time. The towers must be high enough to raise
the lowest part of the cables, where they hang down









in the middle, sufficiently to' let ships pass under.
The river is wide and the cables proportionately
long, and they must be securely fastened at the
ends so that they will never pull out and let the
bridge fall down. The shore on each bank is low,
and behind the bank on both sides the land rises
slightly. The entire bridge, therefore, extends
from the top of a hill down to the water-side, over
the river, and over the streets and houses to the
top of the second hill. Horses can not climb up to
the lofty bridge over the water, and there must be
a long inclined plane up which they can walk. The
more we look at this bridge, the more interesting
it becomes.
The towers must stand at the edge of the water,
but this is always a bad place to build, because the
ground is sandy or covered with soft mud. There
must be a firm foundation, and the only way to
find it is to dig deep under the sand or muddy
water. How could they do that? Every hole
made by a spade fills up with water, and even if
they managed to make a shallow cellar the water
would soon be over their heads. They must call
on the atmosphere, and use the invisible air as a
shield to keep away the water.
How can such a strange thing be done ?

feet high and the bottom fifteen feet thick. The
box has no top, and the edges of the four sides are
sharp and bound with iron. Such a box, turned
over and placed upside down in the water, would
act just as the tumbler in our experiment. Such
a box is called a caisson, and there is one under
each of the towers of the great bridge.
A caisson is, of course, built upside down, for it
is too big to turn over, and it is the custom to
build them on shore and then to launch them, just
as a ship is launched. Figure 5 shows the
caisson under the Brooklyn tower just as it began
to sink in the soft sand. On one side is the shore,
and on the other the deep water. Piles are driven
on each side of the caisson to make an inclosed
dock, so that it may rest in smooth water. You
see the heavy top of the box, made of layers of
timbers, and the sharp edges of the sides cutting
down into the sand. As the box rests on the edges
its weight causes it to sink. In the middle of the
roof of the caisson is a well that reaches down to a
poolof water inside. On top is a derrick for hoist-
ing the dirt and stones out of the well, and a little
railroad for carrying the rubbish to the barge that
floats in the river. On top of the caisson can also be
seen some of the stones

Get the wooden chopping-bowl from the of the tower. Inside are
kitchen and a clear glass tumbler. Fill men at work digging up
the bowl half full of water, and then, the sand and bowlders.
holding the tumbler upside down, press it The picture does not
slowly into the water till it touches the tell all the story. There
bottom. When it rests there you will see l are on the shore great
pumps called compres-
~ sors, driven by a steam-

-,- I ,. -- -Ii' I -

.---i .. -~ --. .. i i | .- -
-'i ... .... ..... ............ ..-- I. --

.I ,--........ ..... ...... ...-- ...... .. ..- '- :.


there is no water inside the tumbler, and that the
bottom of the bowl is nearly dry. The air caught
under the tumbler has pushed the water away. If the
tumblerwere large enough, a man could stand inside
and dig out the bottom of the bowl quite comfortably.
Now imagine a huge wooden box, 168 feet long
and 102 feet wide. The sides of the box are nine

engine, and these compressors are pumping air
through pipes into the caisson. This compresses and
condenses the air under the caisson where the men
are at work, and prevents the water from coming in
under the sides. It is this that forces the water up
into the well nearly to the top, as you see in the pict-
ure. Of course, there must be a door on top for the


men to go in. This is the most curious thing of all.
If there was but one door, the moment it was opened
the compressed air inside would rush out, the water
would break in through the sand under the side of
the caisson, the workmen below would be drowned,
and the work come to a stop. So two air-tight
doors are arranged, one below the other. The
workman opens one door, enters the place be-
tween the two doors, closes it behind him and
then opens the second door. Such a set of double
doors is called an air-lock," and it is certainly a
very clever invention. The air might also rush up
the well, but you see the well touches the pool of
water inside, and this makes a seal to keep it air-
tight. The picture below shows the inside of the
caisson. One man is going up a ladder to the air-
lock, and the others are busy digging in the wet
sand. As the men inside the caisson dig away
the sand and let it settle deeper and deeper in the
water, others on top lay the foundation-stones of
the tower. The weight increases with every stone
laid; and thus the work proceeds, the caisson
sinking and
carrying the


- : j "* :

great box, impelled by the terrible weight of the
rising tower, could crush its way downward.
At last, when the caisson had sunk forty feet
under water, solid ground was reached, and it
would sink no further. Then the whole interior,
where the men had been at work, was filled in
solid with small stones and sand mixed with
cement. There the box rests securely under the
sea, where the heart of the old oak will remain
green and sound for centuries. The lofty tower
stands secure on its wooden foundation, and noth-
ing save an earthquake can ever shake it down.
The caisson under the.tower built on the New York
side of the river had to be carried down much
deeper than on the Brooklyn side. It, too, stands
on top of the great box, and the two towers thus
have their feet in wooden shoes to keep them firm
and dry.
By the time the sinking caissons had found a
resting-place, the towers had been built high
enough to begin the work of laying stone on stone
up toward the clouds. Powerful steam engines were
set up behind each tower, and great iron drums (or
pulleys) were connected with them. On top of




found t. 4P -'it
down ri ir, '
and tih.: -r.. .
work ii.ui l h- -., /
er at the same time.' "
But all this was not done with-
out great difficulty and danger.
Once the caisson took fire. Sev-
eral times the air escaped, and
rushed out of the caisson in a terrible fountain of
mud and water. Stones were caught under the
edge of the caisson, and much toil and time were
spent in blasting them before the edge of the

:.1 Y';.~ ,x
I Ie4



the rising towers were placed iron wheels, and from
the drums up to the wheel, downward to a second
wheel at the foot of the tower, and then under-
ground to the drum, was laid a strong wire rope.



a ~--.,.
ii' ~


W .



Thus, when the engine turned the drum, the rope the curve and the other pair stood still,just like a boy
ran up or down over the top of the tower. To standing on one leg and turning around on his heel.

raise the stones the blocks were secured by
chains to this rope, and the engine whirled them
away into the air. The masons worked on day
by day, summer and winter, laying each stone in
place, and lifting the splendid towers above the
houses, above the steeples, higher and higher into
the air. From time to time, the wire rope had to
be made longer as the towers rose. Schooners
and sloops brought the massive stones to the dock;
the derricks unloaded them, block by block, and put
them in reach of the men, and the engines lifted
them into place. The lower part of the tower is
solid; then it is hollow up to the base of the great
arches, 119 feet above the water. These splendid
arches rise 1 17 feet higher, and the cap-stones rest
271 feet above the tide.
In building a suspension bridge, it is very im-
portant to find a place where the ends of the ropes
or cables can be properly fastened. Any weight
put upon the bridge must be held up by the cables.
These pass over the top of the towers, but they
are not fastened there. The cables merely rest
on the towers, and unless they were securely
fastened beyond, they would give way, slip over
the towers, and let the bridge fall. To fasten
the cables to the towers would never do, for the
weight of the bridge would pull them over into the
water. The place where the ends of the cables
rest is called an anchorage. It is really a stone
anchor for fastening the cables into the ground
so that they can not be pulled out. The anchor-
ages for this bridge are each 930 feet behind the
towers, and each consists of a great stone structure
127 feet long and 119 feet wide on the ground, and
8o feet high. As large as a church and as tall as a
house, these curious stone structures make the
jumping-off place where the people going over
the bridge seem to leave solid ground and walk
out into the air over the houses. These anchor-
ages, with the cables fastened to them, are plainly
shown in two of the pictures. One is a view from
the side, and one is from the street below.
The manner of building these anchorages was
very curious. An elevated railroad was built just
over the place where the walls were to stand. On
this lofty railroad ran a very accommodating engine,
that not only picked up the big stones from the
trains in the streets, but lifted each block in the air
and carried it to just the place where the masons
wished it laid. The strangest thing of all was the
funny way the engine passed around the sharp
curves of the railroad. One track was curved or
bent in a half-circle. The other track turned
sharply around at right angles. When the engine
came to the corner, one pair of wheels ran around

th.i ,..,,,,.I.
under these
were laid
pieces of
cast-iron. In


each was a hole, s
and through this -
hole was passed a gre
iron bar, having an .
the end. It was, in i .:
monster needle. A :r..-!
pin, passed through Ii.
eye under the castii.
made a great anchor.
Other bars were I
joined by pins to the ,
first, and in this way
a chain of bars was
laid up from the
anchor to the top of
the anchorage. The

/ ,,- )

7-- -- ---


was built
over the anch-
the bars, and
thus they were fastened down by the whole weight
of the anchorage. It was to the ends of these
chains of bars that the cables of the bridge were
fastened. The weight of the men and horses on
the bridge is thus really sustained by the stones and
anchors on the hill-side, far back from the towers.

;- _I_-=~
n~il- -

~- ~



After the towers had been built and the anchor- making an endless rope, and when the engine
ages made ready, then came the strangest work moved, the ropes traveled to and fro over the river.

I! _1


.-"c.I I-

.a all.
T.. i.ake
-I.. .. -bles
.il rhenr

bles Were made,
just where they
WINDING THE CABLES. hang, one small
wire at a time. The
cables are not chains with links, nor are
they twisted like ropes. They are bundles
of straight wires laid side by side, and
bound together by wires wound tightly .
around the outside. They called the work
" weaving the cable."
At the Brooklyn anchorage was placed
a powerful steam-engine, and on the top
of the anchorage were placed two large
wheels, and with the aid of proper ma-
chinery the engine caused these wheels to
turn forward or backward. From each wheel was
stretched a steel rope to the top of the Brooklyn
tower, over the river, over the other tower, and
down to the New York anchorage. Here it passed
over another wheel, and then stretched all the way
back again. The ends were fastened together,

laid October 5 1878 -.
There are four cables, each
3578-- feet long, and if all the
wires in the four cables were placed in line,
.,-_; ' ,,% b *l.'', i :.. ."
- T'"-" ~ 1 i '- fl'e- I-- -

they would reach over fourteen thousand miles.
The work was long and dangerous. Sometimes
wires in the four cables were placed in line,
they would reach over fourteen thousand miles.
The work was long and dangerous. Sometimes

I. 11.1
I. !! I I. I !~



For this reasonthey were called the travelers."
There were, besides these travelers, two more
ropes placed side by side. On these were laid
short pieces of oak, thus making a foot-bridge
on which the workmen could cross the river.
One of the pictures shows this slender bridge,
that extended over the tops of the towers. It
was taken from the New York anchorage at the
time the bridge was building. Another picture
shows one of the engineers of the bridge cross-
ing on the traveling-rope-the first man to
cross the river by way of the bridge.
S There were also other ropes for supporting
platforms, on which the men stood as the weav-
ing went on. On each traveler was hung an
iron wheel, and as the traveler moved the
wheel went with it.
It took only ten minutes to send two wires
over the river in this way. The men on the
foot-bridge and on the platforms suspended from
the other ropes guided the two wires into place,
and thus the cables were woven, little by little,
two slender steel wires each time, and carefully
laid in place till the 5434 wires were bound to-
gether in a huge cable, fifteen and three-quarter
Inches in diameter. The work was fairly started
by the IIth of June, 1877, and the last wire was


the wire would break and fall into the water, and
an hour or more would be spent in hauling it up
and starting once more. The men on the foot-
bridge or on the cradles high in the air Ii.:--.!
every wire as it was laid in place. To 1-, .1....
stop the engine, men stood on the top of i.. r.. -
ers and waved signal flags to the enginee. :.,.:.
a mass of wires would not very easily keep .-. I.
and as the work went on, a number of w,.-.: .t.:-
bound together into little bundles or rope ...I .it
the end all were bound together into one i...i.. i
round bundle or cable.
The next great work was to wrap the .. : I,-,
winding a wire around the outside, to hold ,.-i~ Il
together and to keep out the rain and sno I.-
great bundles of steel wire were loose and ii ... u iF.
and the first step was to put on wooden ciAI.. i:
bind the bundles into something like tl..: !ii-i
shape. Then came the men riding in the i.., -
gy "-a car suspended from the cable. As )..
see by the picture (p. 694), the buggy was
sort of platform, suspended from wheels
that run on the cables. The workmen
in it had with them a steel clamp they
put around the bundle of wires to bring
it into shape, and then with wooden !'
mallets they beat on the outside of -
the bundle till it was hammered /
into the right shape. It would
be very difficult to wrap the cable
with wire by hand, and have it fit
smooth and tight like thread on
a spool. You see the wheel in the
picture, riding on the cable. The
men turned it round and round, / i
and it guided the wire from the reel /

upon the cable. As they went on with

the work they gave the wrapping a coat
*of white paint, so that the cables look
to-day like great white cords. At the
same time, the men put around the finished cable
iron clasps or bracelets, to bind the entire structure
together as firmly as possible.
These seem like simple things to do. But just
think of it a little while Think of working in
a little wooden cage swinging and swaying two
hundred and fifty feet in the air! The days
were bleak and cold and the wind blew -oh !
how it does blow up there sometimes! Below was
the black water, perhaps dotted with ragged ice.
A misstep, and-good-bye. No man would ever
comeback alive. There was nothing between them
and death but the wire ropes suspended high
over the masts of the ships. Steamers passed
under, and sent up clouds of hot gas in the
faces of the men. The two cities were spread out
far below, and the roar of the streets came up

faint and far away. If the wind blows hard,
there is no sound save the wind sighing in the

ropes and the

I ,-I.-. ., ,- 1n..



-I -. .
11~1 1
II I !~
i I
I it

. .. I xI

I rooklyn. I

L''- -I east the hills of I
make a dim and
Iro on .the horiz
i. ,.w est is the Hudson
r blue Orange mountain

1 1

I' ,

i1,i ckdots,
n solemn
.!,.:e. The
-ry big.
:il along
..-, beyond
North and
Long Island
wavy line
on, and to
River and
ns beyond.

/ *' i lie view is magnificent, but it is a
Sbad place to work-cold, bleak, and
FOOTBRIDGE. dangerous, and it was a good thing
when the very last ring had been put on the great
white cables, and the men came down from the
dizzy height.
The next thing to be done was to hang from
each ring on the cables a heavy steel rope. These
were called suspenders, and they are to hold up
the floor on which the men and horses pass over
the bridge. It took a great deal of time and hard
work to hang these suspenders, -for of course
there were a vast number of them,-and then came
the next great task.
The endless wire rope to the top of the towers
was still in use, and by its aid the wrought-iron
beams were hoisted to the foot of the arches; then
one by one they were fastened to the suspend-
ers and hung in the air. As soon as a few beams
were suspended, a railroad was laid on the beams


,/ !.

I -

: I


from the arches out over the river, and on this ran
a car, to carry the beams to the places where they
were to be hung, the railroad growing as fast as
the beams were laid.
It was a strange place where the great beams
hung in the air, above the ships and houses. It
was easy to walk along the planks, but it was dizzy
work, for you seemed to be standing in the air or
on a floating cloud.
When the last beam was put in place, the struct-
ure began to look like a bridge. The high foot-
bridge from the top of the towers was taken down,
and there it stood-tall gray towers, slender white
cables, and spider-web wires, holding up the black
floor that at a distance looked like a snake caught
in a web, and reaching from shore to shore.


Still the bridge was far from finished. The
beams must be firmly fastened together, and there
must be braces to keep it from swaying in the
wind. There must be railings to keep horses

from walking overboard, and foot-paths for the
people. To accommodate every one, the bridge
was divided into five parts. On each side, next
the edge, are the carriage roads for teams and
carriages. Inside of these roads are the railroads,
and in the middle, between the tracks and raised
above the cars, is the broad foot-path. This will
give the people a high, wide sidewalk, raised
above the dust of the road and safe from the cars,
where the view will be open over the river. At
the same time, there will be no danger that vent-
uresome boys will fall off by climbing over the
railing. If they should get over the rail, there is the
railroad track and the carriage road to be crossed be-
fore you reach the edge of the bridge. And a glo-
rious walk it will be, from shore to shore, up the long
incline, over the house-tops, under
Sthe arches that are like cathedral
windows, out over the blue waters,
and through the pure fresh air.
Pedestrians will be sure to stop half-
way over, if it is for nothing more
than to catch the breath of the sea
or the fragrant breeze from the Long
Island farms. What a relief it will
be from the ill-smelling streets and
-- .- stuffy shops! What a happy escape
from those dreadful cabins on the
ferry-boats What a grand place
S-- to stretch your legs of a bright win-
ter's day after toiling through the
streets! To go from shore to shore
L in one straight and jolly tramp,
with the sky for a roof and the
0 breeze for good company.
In San Francisco, Chicago, and
S Philadelphia are curious railroads
called "cable roads." Under the
street, between the tracks, is a hol-
Slow tube, and in this tube runs an
endless wire rope, always traveling
swiftly. Just above the rope is
a narrow slit in the pavement, and
down through this slit passes a
curious bit of machinery like a pair
of tongs, which is fastened to the car
on the rails. It clutches the rope,
and so the car is dragged swiftly
along by the moving cable. Here
on the bridge is the same kind of
railroad. An endless cable stretches
over the entire bridge and round a
big drum under the arches on the
Brooklyn side. An engine turns the drum, and this
makes the rope run swiftly. The cars, as in the
street roads, hitch on to this rope when they wish to
go over, and are quickly drawn across the bridge.




Look once more at the diagrams showing the cars to cross over the top or deck. For this rea-
pile bridge, the arched bridge, and the iron-box son they call this style of bridge a deck bridge.


: -.A .

ri.t ,. .: I I.

bridge. And such grand arches Why, you could
tuck a barn or a three-story house right under
one of these arches, and the people inside would
think they lived under a brick sky. The picture
admirably shows the incline plane, the arches,
and the place where the bridge flies over the
elevated railroad.
The picture on the next page gives an idea of the
masonry of the great bridge. The roadway is on
top, and some of these arches stretch over the
streets. Some of them will also be closed up, and
used for warehouses by putting up a partition,
with doors and windows in front. Thus, in this
part of the work, we have the arched bridge. At
one point in the Brooklyn approach, there is a
place where you can see the style of bridge where
the roadway is supported on posts. At another
place in Brooklyn you can also see the box
style, or something very like it. There is really
no box, but still the work is founded on that
idea. Plates of iron are riveted together so as
to form, as it were, great flat boards. These
are set up on edge and fastened together, and, if
you stand in the street below and look up at them,
you will see that the bridge is a kind of box, open
below, and with a place for the men, horses, and

lin Square,
in New York,
is still another THE END OF THE ANCHORAGE-"THE
that flies in one TO LEAVE SOLID GROUND AND
grand leap
right over the side street and the elevated railroad,
tracks, station, and all. This is a most curious.
piece of work. At the top is a massive iron beam,
formed of iron plates riveted together like a long,
narrow box. On the under side is a series of iron
rods, placed side by side, and the two parts are
joined together by a net-work of iron beams.
This is a modern style of bridge, invented since
the time railroads were first used. It is quite as
interesting as any part of the work, for, while it
looks so light and "spidery" for the great weight
it has to carry, it is nearly as strong as if made of
solid iron.
The method adopted for building these iron
bridges over the streets was strange enough. A
wooden bridge was built first, and the different
parts of the iron work were carried up and put
together on top. When the last piece was put in,
the wooden bridge was knocked away, and there
the iron work stood, light and frail in appearance,.


yet so strong that it will endure for long years after
we shall have gone to another country.
One of the most curious things about the bridge
is the fact that it never stands still. On a warm
day in summer it is three feet lower than on a
cold night in winter. But the odd thing about it
is that the bridge is not touched or apparently
changed. The hot sun in July heats the cables,
and they expand and stretch, letting the
b ,l .. ... .l..i r .-,= .. : ,.,: -.i .- ,
th ,. r ,,: i,,.- r, I:r l ...i i_, (tr,- j ,. ,

it Il r ,.,_ I',-, .: .! 1,,- ." -,I.,.:- r. I : l. i

se .. ... ,,, / i

1.111 P

and stretching and sinking in the warm sunshine.
The pictures on page 688 give a good idea of the
size of the great bridge. The view over the house-
tops shows the grand flying leap the bridge seems
to take over the cities and the river. The view
from the Fulton ferry-house is one of the best, as
it shows the beautiful curve of the roadway be-
tween the arches. As you walk over the bridge,
the cables and the suspenders make fantastic cob-
webs against the sky that change at every step.

Note the perspective between the cables, and the
complicated net-work of crossing lines seen from the
promenade. Even the railroad track shows the
strangest vistas between the iron-work, the cables,
and the suspenders. The latter hang down straight
from the cables, but there are also diagonal lines
or stays that cross the suspenders, as you will see
in the circular picture at the left on page 688.
The insects in the cobweb are men at
..rl: painting the wires.
Fhis whole work, bridge, ap-
Sproaches, anchorages, rail-
roads, depots, and all, cost
sixteen million dollars in
Money and thirteen years
--l- \ of time. What is the
S grand result? Is it worth
all this ? How many peo-
PF~ ple can use it in a day?

proaches the bridge is one
Hundred feet wide. On the
S s ended part it is eighty-five
S .r wide. This gives room
S:i,:.i l i .r two lines of teams on each
.... !! ain all. All the teams going
S..l.- .r.. :r..n take the right-hand road,
r.: I,,: r.:.. ..ni rhe outside, and the lighter
S- ri-i,: ir Fhe two roads will allow one
i.i:. .-d o..r Ihn.ir.lr.d and forty teams to pass in
., h..i! ,. ,:.!" i.:..i .:.: iI thousand four hundred and
.I, r..,, f:.r There will be eighty cars on
i i: !, !:!..I. i.1 i. .nty cars can travel on the
i..-1;-, .i r ...:.. l..en all are running, eighty
r!|,:.,- i..! ii ., cross in an hour. The grand
i,'..',: ,..:.1- %!i I ,-i.. ten thousand people at one
ir-:. : ..l !..t.-I, .: thousand people can cross on
,...,r : .-.. i i!. total length of the walk is
S. ri,. r. i -i 1., h. ndred and eighty feet (nearly
i ,ai,.. ii. .l. u:irr.r), and of this one thousand
r. ,, i.uI ... .i.-i i-.: enty-five feet are included in
[ h .- ; -,, -.,:,h ..- I.. i -rer.
i ,i ,:,',l.. .L.Ii.;'.:. but should you ever com e to
New York, you must take pains to see it. Walk
over it and all about it. Cross in the ferries, and
look up at it from below. Take your ST. NICHO-
LAS with you, and study it out with the help of the
pictures. It will show you that every great work
has a meaning. -. It will help you to see that
everywhere in the world men spend their labor
on buildings and structures that are for the bene-
fit of all the people. It will show you that there
is nothing more honorable than work, nothing
more admirable than skill, patience, courage, and




ONE of New York's oldest citizens
has favored ST. NICHOLAS with the
following account of a single-span
bridge which was proposed for the
East River many years ago:

Perhaps few, if any, of my young
readers are aware that any attempt
was ever made to bridge the East
River from New York to Brooklyn
before the present great structure was
begun. Yet a plan for bridging the
river was made and published as
early as 1811 by a Mr. Thomas Pope,
an architect, then residing in Canal
street, New York, a short distance
east of Broadway. (Broadway was
not then paved above Canal street,
and a stone bridge then crossed the
stream that ran through that street
to the North River. In front of Mr.
Pope's house were green fields, bor-
dering the canal.)
Thomas Pope's specialty was bridge
building. He proposed to put one
across the river on the line of the
present Fulton Ferry boats-name- 5
ly, from Fulton street, New York, to
Fulton street, Brooklyn-a bridge of
a single span, sufficiently high for the
largest sailing vessels to pass under.
Mr. Pope made a model of his bridge,
published a book with an engraving of
it, and solicited aid to enable him to
fulfill his project. Had he succeeded,
New York long ago would have
had a bridge-way to Brooklyn. But
the enthusiastic engineer was doomed
to disappointment. Not only was
aid denied, but he was assailed with
ridicule. No man in his senses, they
said, would seriously propose to
bridge that river, though, doubtless,
if such a thing could be done, it
would tend to make Brooklyn build-
ing-lots quite valuable.
I was a playmate with Mr. Pope's
children, saw him often, and have
heard many pretty anecdotes of him
and his bridge. It is said that he,
in company with Robert Fulton, the
inventor of the steam-boat, and a
number of other distinguished New-
Yorkers, on a certain day made a
trip around the city in one of the
new steam-boats. The afternoon was



showery, and just as the boat rounded Castle
Garden the rain ceased, and there was seen a
rainbow spanning the East River. "See there "
says Fulton, tapping Pope on the shoulder,
"there's your bridge, Pope. Heaven favors you
with a good omen."
The bridge was not built, and the model was
probably destroyed -just how, I do not remember,
though I was intimate with the family. One ac-
count, however, says that a company of gentlemen,
including Governor De Witt Clinton, had assem-
bled at Pope's house to yiew the model of his bridge
and see its supporting power tested, for which
purpose the model had been set up in the wild,
half-cultivated meadows in front of Pope's house,
though at some distance from it. While they were

examining the structure, a heavy shower came up.
They ran for shelter to Pope's house, where from
the windows they could still see the model. Sud-
denly there was a terrific flash, followed by a
heavy crash of thunder which startled all. A mo-
ment later, the bridge-model was discovered to be in
ruins hardly two pieces together. The bolt had
entirely destroyed it. And Pope's hopes died out
with it.
One of his daughters is yet living in Brooklyn,
and, through her courtesy, I own a copy of the book
already alluded to, which her father wrote and pub-
lished concerning his proposed bridge.
The engraving which ST. NICHOLAS here shows
you is a fac-simile of the frontispiece of that book,
a volume which is now very rare.



O BLUE JAY up in the maple tree,
Shaking your throat with such bursts of glee,
How did you happen to be so blue?
Did you steal a bit of the lake for your crest,
And fasten blue violets into your vest?
Tell me, I pray you, tell me true !

Did you dip your wings in azure dye,
When April began to paint the sky,
That was pale with the winter's stay?
Or -were you hatched from a bluebell bright,
'Neath the warm, gold breast of a sunbeam light,
By the river one blue spring day?

O Blue Jay up in the maple tree,
A-tossing your saucy head at me,
With ne'er a word for my questioning,
Pray, cease for a moment your "ting-a-link,"
And hear when I tell you what I think,-
You bonniest bit of the spring.

I think when the fairies made the flowers,
To grow in these merry fields of ours,
Periwinkles and violets rare,
There was left of the spring's own color, blue,
Plenty to fashion a flower whose hue
Would be richer than all and as fair.

So putting their wits together, they
Made one great blossom so bright and gay,
The lily beside it seemed blurred,
And then they said: "We will toss it in air;
So many blue blossoms grow everywhere,
Let this pretty one be a bird "







.. _- .

L-, _-

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-J --'---. .-_.,:," : :-: ." -.. ; .' T ::- : ":? -- -" .

BOYs and girls can be taught to do many kinds
of work which are generally supposed to be quite
beyond their power. It is very common to hear
the remark: I have no gift for drawing; none of
my children have any talent in that way; it would
be time lost for us to try to learn." But the truth
is that there is no person who can not in a few
Weeks or months learn to design decorative art pat-
terns very well, and when this is learned it is easy to


master any kind of drawing. There are very few
who have any "natural gift" for art. Among five
hundred pupils of all ages, I have found only one
who had, or seemed to have, a genius for it. But,
then, of the five hundred there was not one who
could not or did not learn to design, model, carve,
embroider, or work in sheet brass.
It is of this latter minor art that I propose to

write. To repoutsser, or emboss, or chase (for the
process is called by all these names) sheet brass is
supposed by many to be very difficult. I am often
asked of it, as of wood-carving, if it does not
require a great deal of strength and much exertion.
The fact is, that in learning both the one and the
other, those who make no great effort are the most

successful. .- .. .. of six or eight years
has quite un1Li- h [ enough to emboss
a sheet of brass or copper. The diffi-
culty of the work does not lie in its
being tiresome. It is, physically speak-
ing, even less weari- some than sewing,
because a girl who is THE engaged in brass-
work can rest her arms while hammer-
ing. I will explain the process, and render this clear.
Sheet brass is made in about forty different
degrees of thickness, which are numbered. Thus,
eighth brass is less than the eighth of an inch
in thickness. The thinnest is not thicker than
writing paper. If you take a piece of any of the



thinner kinds, you can indent it deeply with a
common pointed stick or even with your thumb-
nail. Of course, if you draw a pattern on this
with a hard point, and then beat down the ground
or the space between the edges of the pattern,
your picture will stand up in low relief. To do this
well, it is more important not to hit too hard
than to make great exertion.
There are two ways of working sheet brass,
both of which I will describe. One is to hammer
the face alone; the other consists in turning the
sheet around and beating the pattern out from
behind. This is the true refousser, or embossing.
As the first is the easier and the one by which
my pupils all begin, I will explain it distinctly
before setting forth the other. Yoi have, let us
say, a piece of sheet brass. Let it be of No. 25.
That is the best thickness for a beginner. Then
take a board an inch thick, and screw the brass
on it with small screws, set as near the edge as
possible. Now you must have two tools, the one
a tracer, and the other a mat. They are made of
steel, and look like large nails without heads. The
tracer has an edge 'like that of a very dull knife ; in
fact, it very much resembles a screw-driver. The
end of the mat is flat, and is either simply rough-
ened, or else crossed with very fine lines like a
seal. The object of the tracer is to mark out the
lines of the edge of a pattern; that of the mat is
to beat in, and at the same time to roughen, the
background. Thus, if the pattern is smooth and
in relief while the ground is sunk and irregular,
there will be a contrast of light and shade. An
ingenious person will always contrive to obtain
tools or make them. I have known a lady who,
with only a spike nail, filed across the end, and a
screw-driver, chased a plaque admirably.
Having screwed a piece of brass down on the
board, the pupil may take a lead-pencil and ruler

and draw on it as many parallel lines as he can,
about an eighth of an inch apart.

Then let him take the tracer in his left hand, and
in his right a small hammer with a broad head,
like a shoe-maker's hammer, only much smaller.
This is a chasing hammer, made for the purpose.
Now, resting the edge
S of the tracer onaline,
move it along, and,
as you move, keep
tapping the upper
end with the ham-
mer. Continue to do
this until you can
make a perfect un-
broken line. Do not
strike too hard. A
mere tap-tap will an-


swer the purpose.
After you can make
such a marked
straight line, then
draw curves, as in-
dicated by the curved
lines in the preced-
ing column, and work
them out in the same
When you can
trace lines perfectly,
and not till then, you
should begin work.
I will suppose that
you want a finger-
plate for a door, or a
piece three inches by
nine or twelve, which
may serve for a hang-

ing candlestick, or perhaps as one side of a
Here is such a pattern. There is an object in
making in this pattern so many round objects, such
as apples and grapes. Every one of these, in brass,
will be a shining ball. In all ordinary work, it is
advisable to avoid patterns which have inside lines,
such as scales on fishes, hair, etc. Do not attempt
any fine work, or picture-making. Decorative art
should be looked at from a distance. Most pupils
want to begin with designs full of minute details.
They do not realize that broad and simple designs
are the most elegant. No one, indeed, should at-
tempt to work in brass who can not design pat-
terns. Those who beg or buy them always bungle.
To aid my scholars, I have found it necessary to
write a manual of decorative design, and one on
sheet-brass work, which have been published.
From these the intelligent student may readily
learn to draw the simple designs suited to such



When the pattern is traced or outlined so that
not a break or dot can be seen in it, the pupil
takes the mat and indents the background. No
great care is necessary for this in certain grounds.
It may be done roughly or more evenly. There
are different kinds of both mats and tracers, as
well as punches for making circles and rounded
holes, etc. I have known a professional chaser to
have nearly two thousand. The tools of best
quality cost thirty cents apiece. It is well to buy
from two (which is the least number sold) to six,
eight, or ten.'


After matting the ground, you next go over the
edges with the tracer again, or with a border tool,
which is a tracer with the edges made like a very
fine saw. Do not be in a hurry, as too many people
are, to make a fine piece of work to show as your
first effort. It is generally the ignorant who lay
great stress on the first attempts in art. I have
known scores of people to lose months of work by
trying to make show pieces, instead of learning hoAw
to make them.
In the Philadelphia school there are boys and
girls, from twelve to fifteen or sixteen years of age,
who can design patterns, carve wood panels, model
large and beautiful vases covered with flowers or
grotesque figures, and execute sheet-brass work.
I have not found their work in any respect inferior to
that of adults who had studied art for the same time.
And the different arts are so easy that within a few
months many pupils can master several of them.
The kind of refpousser which I have described
is called cold hammering on wood. A more ad-
vanced process is hammering on pitch, during
which the metal is heated from time to time to
make it soft. By this means a higher relief can be
given to the figures.
The way in which this is effected is as follows:
A composition is made of Burgundy pitch, which
is melted in a tin skillet, and when fluid is mingled
with brick-dust and powdered plaster of Paris, in
proportions varying with the hardness required
and the time of year. When all is well stirred and
mingled, the composition is poured into a bucket

of cold water, and worked by hand into cakes.
When needed for use, these cakes are melted and
spread in a coat half an inch thick on the board.
This process is techincally known as foxingg."
When the brass is screwed down on this, of course
it yields more than wood, and allows a deeper relief
to be made.
Hammering the brass hardens it, and the higher
the relief the thinner and harder it gets, and the
more liable to crack or split it becomes. There-
fore, it is placed from time to time on a fire or gas-
jet, to soften it. This process is called anneal-
ing. It requires some little practice and judgment
to anneal well. If after cold hammering on wood
any cracks are found in the work, they may be
soldered. This is readily done by the tinsmith
who makes up the work. That is, after making,
let us say, a plate sixteen inches in diameter in a
square piece, you send it to a tinman, who will
cut it round for you, turn the edge over a wire,
and solder a ring on the back by which to hang it
up. This he should do for from eighteen to twenty-
five cents. Any other refousser can be made up in
like manner. All small brass articles that are to be
handled require it, just as do those made from tin.
Beginners should not think of using the pitch-
bed, or annealing brass until they can work it
cold on wood. Brass costs at retail from thirty-five
to forty cents a pound; the tools, with a hammer
and board and screws, less than two dollars. Of
course, as the young artist advances, he will need
more mats and tracers.
Now, it will be worth while to consider what
objects may be made of sheet brass. A plaque or

easily made, and
may be used as a
platter on which
to serve fruit.
Or you can make
a square plate,
which, according
to its size, may be
set either in a cabinet, in a box, in the back of
a chair, a clock, a sofa, or anywhere that a flat
and ornamented surface is needed. Again, a square
piece of ornamented sheet brass can be made by any
smith into a cylindrical cup, which would look well
anywhere. Boxes of sheet brass are well adapted
to hold wooden boxes of flowers, and outer cases
for flower-pots are quite effective. The sheet for a
flower-pot cover is of the shape shown above. It
will also, if made narrower, serve for a tankard or
cannon-shaped goblet or can. A square piece, with
the sides sloped or cut away, will "make up" into a
coal-scuttle. Narrow strips can be set in picture-

* The name of the publisher of Mr. Leland's manuals, and the address of an experienced dealer in tools for brass-work,
will be furnished by ST. NICHOLAS, upon application.


frames. Quivers are useful to hold canes and para-
sols. A very common and very pretty object is a
brass-covered pair of bellows. Cups can be bought
ready made of brass. These can be filled with the
pitch-cement, and worked on the outside.

that time there are no other classes in, the building
to be disturbed.
It is a very natural question for every one to
ask: How can I sell my work when it is done?
Who will buy it ?" For many months, I have been


^-- C
- t. -



', I .
I ,




The din which is made by a dozen boys and in the daily receipt of letters from every corner of
girls hammering sheet brass all at once together our country, asking me where the writers can sell
is appalling. Therefore, in our school, Saturday their manufactures. People who have never seen
afternoon is set apart specially for this work. At a piece of brass work, but who have heard about




~ ~


it, think they would like to learn if it would
pay," and write to know if I will find them pur-
chasers. This is very much as if one should ask
an artist who buys his pictures, or a grocer how to
sell sugar. If anybody living could tell exactly
where anything could be sold, half the world would
at once rush to sell. I have had many pupils
who have sold their brass work, and some who
have made a great deal of money by it, but I do
not believe that even they could help any one else
to sell. As I see their plaques and panels about
town in shops, I know that they find dealers to
dispose of them.
But, after all, the main object of learning to
work in metal, or wood, or clay should not be
to at bnce make money but to learn to use the
hands and brains. The boy or girl who learns to
design patterns, and work them out, is not only
prepared by so doing for some more serious occu-

nation, but also becomes cleverer intellectually.
If we take two boys or girls of the same age and
of the same brain power, and give them the same
book-studies, but allow one to occupy part of his
leisure in learning to draw and work brass, while
the other spends an equal amount of time in aim-
less amusement, it will be found, at the end of a
year or two, that the former is by far the cleverer
of the two. There is no doubt that such pursuits,
while they are as interesting as any play, also
improve the mind.
I suppose that, among the thousands who will
read this article, there will be many who will like
to learn to design patterns for brass work and then
to execute them in the metal. Those who in-
tend to do so will find that it will save much
expense, and that they will advance far more
rapidly, should they form a club, association, or
school for the purpose.



CAN not girls raise silk as well as boys ?
Yes, better," says a girl who ought to know,
for she has been raising silk herself for two years.
"Of course, boys can feed the worms as well as
girls; but when it comes to handling the delicate
fibers, for reeling or other purposes, the girls have
the advantage, because their fingers are more deli-
cate. But most girls would rather embroider or
paint on silk than raise it. I tell you, they don't
know how interesting silk-raising is. I've been at
it two years, and it grows more and more interest-
ing to me every day."
This particular girl has a brisk step, and such
bright eyes, clear complexion, and rosy cheeks as
would set you wondering if she had not washed
her face in May dew.
It seems she began raising silk when she was
thirteen years old. At that time she was very
fond of reading, and spent so much time poring
over her books that her eyes were in danger of
being injured. Her father, to prevent this, sought
to occupy her with silk-worms; and now she has
become so interested in silk that she devotes all
her time to the subject.
As her family lived in the heart of the city, where
there were no mulberry trees, she and her father
used to start out at four o'clock every morning in
the feeding-season and walk to the park, to gather
fresh leaves for her worms.
This little girl's father helped her very kindly.

He made frames for her to cover with nets
for her feeding-trays; and, after awhile, actually
moved to a house nearer the park, so that she
would not have so far to go for the mulberry
leaves. So now they have only a mile to go, and
need not start on their morning walk till about
five o'clock. "To be sure, one runs the risk of
malaria by such habits," she owned; "but then
we always eat something before we start, which
greatly lessens the danger."
The young silk-raiser has her room full of curiosi-
ties connected with the silk industry. It is inter-
esting to note the difference between the boys'
silk-room and this one. The boys' place looks
like a real work-room, without much attempt at
ornament. The girl's, on the contrary, looks like
a little parlor with her collection of silk products
tastefully arranged on the mantel, on tables, and
in glass cases. The walls are hung with painted
silk screens, with photographs of patrons of the
silk cause, and letters of distinguished people who
have been interested in her work. There is no
reason why a boy's room should not look as neat
and pretty as a girl's, and it is very seldom that
girls devote too much attention to the ornamental,
and not enough to the useful.
"All these things were sent as presents," said
the young silk-raiser. You see, I have orders
for silk-worms' eggs constantly coming in from all
parts of the country, so I have a great deal of cor-

* See ST. NICHOLAS for June, page 630.


VOL. X.-45-


respondence, and I make a great many friends
that I never could have made in any other way.
They send me these things either as gifts or in
There was a box of cocoons of wild silk, spun by
the oak-feeding worms of the north of China, of
which pongee is made, the light brown color char-
acteristic of this goods being observable in the
cocoon. Beside it lay an oak-leaf from the park, to
which clung a cocoon spun by one of our native
silk-moths. There were jars of cocoons raised by
a boy of eight years, and by girls of thirteen and
fourteen. There was a silk fishing-line of a pretty
ultramarine tint, twisted so tight and smooth
that it seemed almost as stiff and elastic as fine
steel wire.
"That was made by a Georgia lady from silk
produced by eggs I sent her," explained our in-
formant. She makes silk fishing-lines, for sale,
and supplies all the men and boys in her neigh-
This satin book-marker," she continued, with
the bunch of violets painted on it, was sent to me
by a girl in the neighborhood; and this little
screen was painted for me by an Ohio girl who is
nearly blind. I value it all the more for that; but
a person with good eyesight need not have been
ashamed of it. But just look at these Chinese
gauze screens, covered with hand-painted flowers.
If that work had been done in this country it would
have cost an immense sum, but we can import
them at a very low price. That little model of a
reel worked by Chinese figures was sent to me
from a fair, and these cotton pods, closed and
open, with the snowy cotton bursting out, were
sent from Louisiana.
Here is something Ivalue highly-two bits of
ribbon, labeled, 'Economy, Pa., 1832.' So, you
see, as long ago as that, German emigrants made
silk in this country. It is very hard to get a piece
of this rare silk."
So she went on showing one interesting thing
after another. There were specimens of silk in
almost every form-loose, reeled, spun, twisted,
woven, embroidered, cases of gay sewing-silk,
wreaths of flowers of silk thread stretched on wires,
and hanks of silk that looked like lovely silver-gray
hair. Over the cases hung a placard with the
words, See what a worm can do." And I thought
to myself that it might have said just as truthfully,
See what a girl can do."
One of the most striking objects in the room was
a tall stand on which were displayed long, flowing
bunches of silk of all the natural tints, from cream
color to a bright yellow, which looked like the
treasured tresses, flaxen or sunny gold, of so many
fair maidens.

But the most valued treasures of this silk-en-
thusiast are displayed on the walls. Conspicuous
among them is a note of thanks from Miss Mollie
Garfield, saying: "Both my mamma and I are
much interested in the cocoons and other speci-
mens you sent us. We think you must be a very
enterprising girl."
There, too, hangs her diploma, awarded by the
State Agricultural Fair.
I value that more than any money prize," she
said, for I can keep it always to show. I sup-
pose it was given to me because I was so young
more than for any other reason, for I had just
begun silk-raising then and had n't much to show
-just some eggs and cocoons in a little frame.
Here is the very jar of silk I sent, labeled, Silk
raised and reeled on her fingers by a little girl
thirteen and a half years old.' I think I would go
through fire and water to save that diploma. I
have a fine reel now that was made in Philadelphia
and given to me. There it stands in the corner.
I had the water-pan made by a tinman and fitted
on this old sewing-machine stand. When I use it,
I set a lamp under the pan to heat the water. But
I don't reel very much, only in the winter, because
I keep most of my cocoons for eggs."
Where do you feed your worms in the rearing
season ?" we asked.
Right here in this room," she replied. "But
as they grow we have to spread them out over
three rooms, though our frames are five stories
high-that is,there are five tiers of trays. I raise
so many worms now that my father and two brothers
have to help me carry home leaves for them every
morning, and sometimes the boys have to go again
in the evening. But it is only for a few days that
the worms eat so much."
It seems strange that there are not a great
many other girls interested in silk as you are," we
Yes, it does," said she. I suppose there are
some in different parts of the country. But in the
city it is not easy to get mulberry leaves ; and city
girls who have to earn their living seem to prefer
working in factories or stores to taking the trouble
to help themselves by silk-raising. Now, I like it so
much I would n't change it for any other employ-
ment. There is so much variety in it-so much
that is interesting to learn about it; though it
does n't take very much knowledge to raise silk.
I 've put all the necessary information in my in-
struction book. Have n't you seen it? It is in
the third edition now."
Last year, a lame girl I know, who lives with her
mother in a country village where there are a few
mulberry-trees growing near the house, thought
she would try raising silk. So she bought a dol-



lar's worth of eggs and a little instruction book, and
began with her trays spread on the sitting-room
table. At first, it was nothing but fun to watch
the queer little brown things feeding. But they
soon grew so large and ate so much that she was
obliged to spread them out more and more, till
they occupied two or three rooms instead of one
table, and it kept the little lame girl and her
mother both busy gathering leaves to satisfy their
But, by the end of six weeks, they had all done
feeding and spun their little silken covers and gone
to sleep. The lame girl had a fine lot of cocoons,

which she sold for twenty-seven dollars, and felt
that she was well paid for her trouble. Besides,
she got honorable mention at the grand silk fair
at St. George's Hall, which was something to be
proud of. So she bought four dollars' worth of
eggs for the next season, hoping to make four
times as much money.
I wish more girls would try silk-raising. I think
you would enjoy it, girls. If it is not practicable
for you to belong to a silk association, you can
raise silk just as well by yourselves. But I should
like to hear of a Girls' Silk-Culture Club ready
to begin work next season.



MOST of the many boys and girls who already
own or who intend to own silk-worms will be glad
to know of a way by which the silk-spinning powers
of the little creature may be turned to account so
as to produce immediate results.
The formation of the cocoon, the reeling of the
raw silk, and the final weaving into the finished
sheet of silk are not only processes requiring con-
siderable time and skill, but are, all of them, usually
carried on without the assistance of the young
silk-raiser. Or even if he reel off the silk from the
cocoon himself, he will be little likely to attempt
weaving it into cloth.
There is a way of contriving, however, so that
the silk-worm will itself save you the time of its
own house-building and spare you the trouble of
reeling and weaving. It can, in fact, be made to
produce for you, under your own supervision, a piece
of beautiful, golden silk. Nor is this all: it will
even shape the silk and fasten it to a fan, a tam-
bourine, or to any other similar frame; provided,
of course, that the silk-yielding capacity of the
worm be not overtaxed.
The method of accomplishing this result is a
very simple one, though, like many other simple
things, it is not commonly known. Very many
Chinese ladies, however, know it, and make use of
it to divert the weary hours they usually spend in
When the worm is full-grown, and has filled its
reservoir with the ;lk--. ,i:,,, material, it is ready
to build its house or cocoon. This you must not

permit it to do. It must instead be placed on a
common Japanese fan, of the battledore or lawn-
tennis bat shape.

Nature tells the worm that it must spin-spin
a cocoon if possible, but spin anyhow. If permitted
to have its own way, it will build on the flat surface
of the fan; but if prevented, it will wander from side
to side of the little platform, spinning all the while
its wonderful silken thread, fastening it at the
edges, and in the end covering the whole surface
with a closely woven golden web almost as tough as
In relating this fact, however, we must, at the
same time, impress upon the young silk-culturist
that, if he tries this experiment, it had better be
with only two or three worms, and that it would
be wrong and cruel to divert many of the little
creatures from their proper work of cocoon-mak-
ing, for the sake of the ornamental fan-covers they
might be made to supply. Though the result is,
of course, interesting, it is decidedly not for this
purpose that you are supposed to keep silk-worms.




THE next annual convention of the National
Amateur Press Association is to be held in New
York City, in July. These gatherings of enthusi-
astic journalists attract more and more attention,
and serve to make known in widening circles the
character and purposes of the N. A. P. A. Some
notion of what the coming meeting will be may be
gained perhaps by a glance at the members com-
posing last year's convention as they were assem-
bled in the New Era Hall, of Detroit, Michigan, on
July 14th, 1882. Our cut is engraved from a photo-
graph taken at that time. Although the photo-
graph is unfortunately indistinct, it is evident that
it represents a group of thoughtful boys and young
men, who believe in their "cause," and who are
ready to work for it.
The convention gave promise of much good for
the Association, and, looking back over the history
of the year, we can see that the promise has been
fulfilled. The ranks of the society have been ex-
tended; many new papers have been started; the
wings of the older ones have grown stronger for
flight, and the general character of the papers has
been raised. We note with pleasure a more manly
ring in editorials, a fairer tone in critical reviews,
a growing freedom from personalities, as well as
higher order of literary work and better mechan-
ical execution.
Reports of the Detroit meeting from several wide-
ly separated sources show that it was, on the whole,
one of the most harmonious and satisfactory ever
held. We have read, with considerable interest, de-
tailed accounts of the political campaigns which
preceded the convention, and have traced through
bulky files of amateur journals the inception and de-
velopment of the several parties there represented
-all of which study has strengthened the belief
expressed in a former article, that amateur elections
are conducted with fairness and good nature, and
that candidates are nominated mainly from confi-
dence in their ability, and elected by honorable and
manly methods of voting. The history of a cam-
paign is something like this: Soon after an annual
election (if not long before !) some bright, and dis-
tant-future-scanning editor, with a taste for wield-
ing pen-power, runs carefully over his exchanges,
and makes a mental estimate of his contemporaries.
(And very much can be learned of an amateur
editor from a single number of his paper. Is its
general appearance attractive? Is its face clean?
Are its hands washed ? Are its eyes wide open ?

Can it hit heavy and honest blows ? Is it truthful,
modest, pure, sensible, bright?)
Having decided from such mental view of many
papers that Pungent Pepperpot, the editor of the
Capsicum, is likely to prove a popular and capable
president, he proceeds to throw among his next
week's editorials some such tentative remark as
"Did any gentleman mention Pepperpot for our
next president?" or to suggest that "Among
those who were most active in the late campaign,
none displayed more unselfish enthusiasm, or
showed more marked ability, than the editor of
the sprightly and well-written Capsicum."
Without waiting to see whether this little seed
will sprout or not, our young politician next sits
down and writes to a score of brother editors in
different sections, and asks in varied phrase of each
whether he has yet made up his mind regarding
the proper man to fill the presidential chair at the
expiration of the current year. He gently intimates
that, if no other name has been proposed, it would
be an excellent plan to unfurl the flag of Pepperpot.
These letters dispatched, another must be written
to no less distinguished a personage than Pungent
Pepperpot himself, offering to "work" for him from
date. As soon as three or four favorable responses
are returned, a committee is organized, consisting
of members judiciously sprinkled over the several
points of the mariner's compass.
The work of the committee is then fully mapped
out, and a "net-work of correspondence is carried
on in all directions.
A good plan is to have all members of the com-
mittee concentrate a fusilade of political epistles
upon a doubtful amateur, so that upon the same
day he may receive, by a strange coincidence, let-
ters from Ohio, Pennsylvania, and Massachusetts,
all pointing out the critical point in its history upon
which Amateurdom is now quivering, and demon-
strating that the only person who can possibly place
it in a position of permanent perpendicularity is
Pungent Pepperpot.
Few can withstand this. Letters begin to flow
toward the committee, to the following effect:
"Regarding Pepperpot, I will work for him, and give him all my
"I am solid for P. P. WM. WRITEWELL."
SI shall be exceedingly happy to render you any aid that lies in
my power to bring about the election of Pepperpot.
But by this time some other politician has become
aware of the danger which threatens the Associa-



tion if it allows the fiery and impetuous Pepperpot
to gain the highest office in the gift of the N. A.
P. A., and by substantially similar methods he
rapidly organizes a boom for Zachary Zero, who
edits the monthly Icicle. Now the fun begins. As
kernels of corn over a hot fire, so paper after paper
pops out in favor of one or the other of the rival
nominees. Histories of each appear, introduced
with eye-compelling head-lines, and illustrated
with portraits or caricatures of the candidates. The
Pepperpotists ridicule the chill indifference of the
Zeroites, who in turn criticise the dangerous heat
and fierce passions of their opponents. Shall
Amateurdom bare its back tamely to receive an
application of capsicum? Better that, a thou-
sand-fold, than to face the fearful fate of freezing
in an untimely grave," is the undaunted reply.
As the time for the convention approaches, the
interest deepens. Other candidates appear, letters
of acceptance and of declination see the light, noses
are counted, and estimates of attendance are made.
The records of the rivals are searched for evidences
of literary skill, editorial power, political penetra-
tion, honorable "stands," and general popularity
on the one side; and, on the other, for proofs of
incapacity or plagiarism, of weakness or narrow-
ness of mind, indirect methods, and general im-
practicability. Finally, on the eve of the election,
caucuses are held, speeches made, members button-
holed, pledges circulated, promises given, and after
the crisis is over and the photographs paid for, the
next month is devoted to explaining how, if Pepper-

pot had not resigned on the very edge of victory,
and if Zero had only rallied his men with more of
his rival's ardent but flagging zeal, it never could
have happened that the hitherto unknown editor
of the Wayback Waif should have been quietly
accepted as a compromise candidate, and triumph-
antly elected almost by acclamation.
In concluding this sketch, we wish distinctly to
state that it is not designed to represent under the
fiery and frosty appellations of Pepperpot and Zero
any of the gentlemen who were actually in the field
during the campaign of 1882, which reached its
climax at Detroit; nor to indicate by the name of
Wayback Waifthe paper of him who was really
chosen president. In fact, last year it was not a
"dark horse" that won, but a gentleman who,
during most of the campaign, was generally felt
to be the proper one for the place.
It was our plan to enter somewhat in detail into
an account of last year's convention; but as the minor
incidents of friendly greetings, eager caucuses, and
ballot-counting are of interest mainly to the actors in
chief, and as such a course, moreover, would cause us
to thread our way through an intricate maze of dan-
gerous personalities, we must content ourselves with
congratulating the Association on its manly and dig-
nified representation at Detroit. Those of my read-
ers who are desirous of a closer acquaintance with
the workings of the N. A. P. A., or who wish to
enroll themselves among its members and attend
the July convention in New York City, should ad-
dress Mr. F. A. Grant, South Gardner, Mass.


i !


_- .-~I..~;



. --.A -- -


--"-- ---se1V N

ALTHOUGH we Sandersville boys had lived all
our lives within sight of the ocean, yet we did not
grow tired of the sea, and never were so happy as
when fishing in its depths, or rowing about over
its throbbing bosom.
Almost every pleasant Saturday a party of us
would charter old sailor Bob's ancient and weather-
beaten boat, and spend the whole or a part of the
day in fishing, or in the oft-repeated but ever
pleasant task of exploring the shores of the bay in
the vicinity of the village.
One bright July afternoon, four of us-Dan
Blockly, George Davis, Benny Temple, and my-
self-secured the "Dandy" (never was there a
boat that bore a name more unsuited to its appear-
ance), and set out for a few hours' enjoyment.
Rowing over to Rock Island, as a large cluster
of huge bowlders was called, that showed their
black heads above their white collars of snowy sea-
foam, about two miles distant from the village, we
landed upon them, and rigged our lines.
Rock Island and its vicinity was noted as a good
angling ground, and we enjoyed fine sport; and
not until the sun began to hide itself behind the
hills back of the village did we enter our boat.
As we rowed slowly homeward, we could not
help admiring the beauty and clearness of the
waters of the bay, which were as smooth and trans-
parent as glass.
I declare, boys, I must take a swim," said Dan,
at length. And hastily slipping off his clothes, he
leaped overboard. I tell you, fellows, the water
is just right-neither too warm nor too cold."
Dan swam round and round the boat, diving,

swimming on his back, treading, and doing all the
feats which boys delight in performing, and at last
darted away at a lively rate, laughingly telling us
that he would reach the beach before we would.
We were about to seize the oars and prove to his
satisfaction that three boys in a boat can travel
much more rapidly than one boy in the water,
when Benny Temple called our attention to some-
thing that was speeding through the water toward
the swimmer. "What is it? asked Ben.
I had not the remotest idea what it was, until I
heard George utter an exclamation of astonish-
ment and fear, and then shout: "Dan! Dan!
come back here, quick There's a shark in sight! "
The boy addressed was some distance from the
boat, but his friend's words came to his ears with
terrible distinctness. For an instant he remained
motionless, then turned and struck out for the boat.
Never have I seen a person swim with more
speed than Dan exhibited that day. He was an
excellent swimmer, and, fully comprehending his
peril, he plowed desperately through the water,
leaving a trail of foam and bubbles in his wake as
he strained every muscle to reach the boat.
As for ourselves, we never thought of the oars,
but remained motionless in the "Dandy," terror-
stricken, watching the race.
Suddenly the shark disappeared beneath the
surface of the water. Our excitement and anxiety
were now more intense than before, for we did not
know how near the voracious monster might be to
our friend, or at what moment he might be crushed
in the jaws of the huge and blood-thirsty fish.
Nearer and nearer came Dan, and at last he

*See the Committee's Report, page 713.




grasped the side of the boat, and in a moment
more was pulled on board.
Scarcely had he been drawn from the water,
when the shark appeared at the side of our craft;
but his prey had escaped him. For a moment he
regarded us intently with his cunning, wicked-
looking eyes, then swam slowly around the boat
and disappeared.
It was one of the species of white sharks, or man-
eaters, which are found in all seas. They swim

very rapidly, and usually near the surface of the
water. This one, though scarcely twenty feet
long, appeared a very monster to us. Its body
was white below, gradually fading to a light brown
above. Its mouth, as is usual in fish of this
species, was on the under-side of its head, and was
set with two rows of sharp, ugly-looking teeth.
It was a fearful and repulsive thing to look at,
and I dare say it will be a long time before any of
us forget the shark or the fright it gave us.



THE violet blooms both at the door of the lowly
cottage and at the gate of the palace; so genius
is found in the plowman as well as in the peer.
A striking instance of this is Robert Burns.
In the hamlet of Alloway, in Ayrshire, Scotland,
a farmer, one William Burns, built with his own
hands a cottage, a picture of which is now be-
fore us, doubtless himself making the little window
through which the sun, veiled by the mists of a

_-.- _. --- -

',"- ' '-- -- -


January morning in the year 1759, first shone into
the birthplace of Robert Burns.
Here, at Alloway, in his boyhood, the stalwart
figure of the future poet became a familiar sight
to the simple farmers of the neighborhood, as he
followed his plow and hummed over as he went
some quaint old Scottish air, or sat at his father's
table, devouring, at one and the same time his
midday meal and some favorite book. Few of his
associates, however, could have dreamed that, in
after years, the little clay-built cottage would bear
an inscription, proudly stating that there had been
the birthplace of Robert Burns, the poet; and that
the walls, the wood-work, and even the tables in
the principal room of the house, would be covered
with the names of travelers from all parts of Scot-

land and from far across the sea, who had come to
visit his early home and carry away with them a
pressed flower from the threshold of him whose
spirited battle-cry or whose tender love-songs had
stirred their hearts.
But it was with Burns as with many others be-
fore him: all this came too late. The statues and
monuments raised in his memory, the biographies
and essays written about him, the choice editions
of his works, could not lift the great load of
care and sordid poverty which made him
prematurely old, and crushed out the life and
Sbuoyancy of his warm, passionate, proud heart.
Burns was born a plowman, but also a
poet; as a farmer, he could not succeed; his
poet soul took wings and soared far beyond
Sthe lowly calling to which he had been born.
-I He was continually falling in love, and con-
stantly broke out into song to some Jean, or
I Mary, or Nannie, who had been captivated
by his dark eyes and eloquent tongue; and
Then his tender heart sang even about the
little trifling things that he daily saw around
I him, such as a daisy or field-mouse's nest.
With such a nature, strive as he might, both
ends would not meet, and in a fit of despondency
Burns resolved to set out for the West Indies and to
say farewell, perhaps forever, to his loved Scotland.
It must have been a moment of overwhelming
joy to the poet, because so entirely unsuspected,
when he first learned that he was famous, and
that distinguished men and cultivated women were
eagerly reading his recently published poems and
inquiring for the gifted author.
A time of brightness now seems to have come
to him; but his nature was an exceptional one:
impetuous and ardent, moderation was impossible
to him. He found himself at home in society such
as he had never enjoyed before ; but the enjoyment
could not last long. During his stay in Edinburgh
he acquired only a thirst for drink and a desire for


fame, neither of which tastes were likely to render
his quiet after-life at Ellisland, where he retired in
1788, either a peaceful or a happy one. As com-
bined farmer, exciseman, and poet, he did not pros-
per any better than in his earlier days. But in spite
of his want of success, he might have been happy
on his secluded farm, with his wife (Jean Armour)
and his children; but his now uneventful life soon

seven, after a short, sad life, full of disappoint-
ments and cares.
That the character of Burns was faulty, and that
his too impulsive nature led him into frequent ex-
cesses, can not be denied; but that his heart was a
great one, and that many of his aspirations were
noble, can not be denied also. And it is with a feel-
ing of affectionate interest that we turn to the

became irksome to him. It was not, however, of humble cottage which, as the birthplace of Robert
long duration: he died at the early age of thirty- Burns, has become forever a hallowed spot.



ROBERT BURNS was born in Scotland:
He was a farmer lad-
His lot in life to guide the plow,
In simple homespun clad.

He dined on cheese and oaten cake,
Or buttermilk and porridge,
And breakfasted on plain pease broth,
But longed for fame and knowledge.

He must have had a tender heart,
For in the field one day
A mouse's nest was overturned-
The creature ran away.

Then Robert wrote a little rhyme,
Quite pitiful and kind,
Bewailing the poor beastie's fate.
That showed the Poet mind;

Because, you see, a common boy
Would sure have chased the beast,
With savage yells and whirling stones,
Till out of sight at least.

And once, while seated in the church,
A lady proud and gay,
Close to him sat with scornful look,
Too frivolous to pray.

Perchance upon his homespun clothes,
Or sturdy brogans coarse,
Her scornful glances fell askance
With irritating force.

He must have thought her conduct coarse,
Unladylike, and strange,
For, moralizing o'er the fact,
Right quaintly did arrange


That well-known phrase with sense so true:
Could we as others see us
But see ourselves, the gift, indeed,
From much that 's ill would free us "

The merry pranks of "Halloween,"
So many years ago,
He pictures to our minds until
We long to do just so.

And surely Tam O'Shanter's mare
The lesson must convey,
That round one's house at night is far
The safest place to stay.

"The twa dogs'" long and friendly chat
Impresses on the mind
That e'en in selfish idleness
No happiness we '11 find.

His cheery heart must sore have been
The day he penned, forlorn,
"Man's inhumanity to man
Makes countless thousands mourn."

How many men and women, too,
In life's hard struggle drear,
A man's a man for a' that" has
Unto them given cheer!

His words for o'er a century
Have given hope and pleasure
To hopeless men, to hapless men;
Made better men of leisure.

He may have often dropped the plow,
At rhyming to take turns;
Mind, every boy that drops the plow
Can't be a Robert Burns!




As STATED in our Letter-Box last month, many hun- to print it with the two already named. Payment, at the
dreds of compositions have been received in response to rate promised, has been sent, with our thanks, to the
our -invitation on page 474 of the April number of ST. three young authors.
NICHOLAS. Of these, the two which seem to our Com- It must, however, be said that, as in the case of the
mittee the best on their respective subjects, taking all "Tiger competition (see page 235 of ST. NICHOLAS
points of the contest into consideration, are: "A Shark for January, 1883), the difficulty of selecting the best has
in Sight," by John Peck, Jr., and Robert Burns," by been very great; and, as before, our sense of justice
Marion Satterlee. demands a long Roll of Honor, giving the names of
Another paper on Robert Burns, written in verse by those whose efforts in composition are too praiseworthy
James C. Holenshade, aged twelve years, is so good, in to be passed by without acknowledgment.
spite of some faulty lines, that we yield to the-temptation



Lottie A. Best- Carrie Lash-Will von Moody-Addie W. Bunnell-Alice P. Pendleton-R. K. Saxe Claribel Moulton-Alice
Dillingham-William Dana Orcutt-Amy Mothershead- Louise M. Knight- Peter Wade Chance -Eddie Sabin -Hortense E. Martin-
Lizzie B. Robertson L. T. Van Santvoord Marion Clara Smith Edna Morse Emma Hall-- C. Louise Higgins -Gertrude Halladay
- Nellie Tunnicliff- Pet Ennis Edgar T. Keyser- Horace Wylie Hugo Diemer Bessie Holmes Nellie Glass-- Kate M. Bott- Geo.
D. Moore Flora Rawson Charles T. Slider- Paul R. Towne Orville H. Leonard- Angelo Hall Helen B. Pendleton Richard Pay-
son-Dudley Garst-Harry Houck-Minerva Primm-Alex. Heron Davisson-Virginia M. Reid-William Lamping-Caroline D.
Elmendorf- Hilda E. Ingalls-Hallie Metcalf- Charles C. Brown -Minnie M. Wait-Harry V. Arny:-Wallie Wilson -May Manny-
Mamie Leverich-John F. Fairchild- Mamie E. Page-Edith D. Cooper- Louise Hobby-Gertrude Bemis-Julius K. Schaefer-Ar-
thur C. Hobart-Annie E. Lewis-Charles F. Shaw-Mary A. Fletcher-Lightfoot Meredith-Gracie Q. Bird-Mattie W. Baxter-
Rosemary Baum- Genevieve Harvey- Phillips Carmer- Sue D. Huntington- Milan E. Goodrich Henry Channing Church Carrie C.
Howard-Dimple Robertson-Julia T. Pember-Lulie R.Shippey-Flossie Paul-Fred. Russell- May Gearhart- Bessie Howe -Bertha
M. Sears- Henrietta Hulskamp-Martha Kennar-May Winston- D. Sullivan -Louise H. Lawrence -Stark R. Sweeney- Susie M.
Higgins-Birdie Byrne-Katie H. Elliott-Bessie P. Sutphen-Lyle M. Foote- Reginald I. Brasher- "Woodpecker"-Truman J.
Purdy-R. N.-Harry W. George-Millie G. King-Charles Lee Faries-Carrie Malen-Paul W. Brown -Lilian Scott-Josephine
Kernochan George C. Baker- Ethelind Richards-Elizabeth Pendleton- Helen G. Dawley- Clara B. Pitts -Percy F. Jamieson Glenn
J. Bowker -Andrew H. Pattison- Mary Sherman--Julie E. Avulhe-Mary Redline -E. W. Mumford Bessie Dolfield -Aileen O'Don-
nell-Mary L. Barnett-Corina A. Shattuck-Harold Stebbins-Edith KingVezin--K. M. M.- Ernest Peabody- George Robinson-
Stuart M. Beard-John S. Aukenly-EvaG. Hunt-JennieC. Kissam-Thomas L. Thurber Helen H. Baldwin-Caro Hodges- Helen
M. Slade-Willie B. Trites -Evelyn P. Willing-Bessie A. Jackson Mabel Florence Noyes-Edna Wheeler-F. Louis Grammer-A.
L. Walter- Mable G. Guion--M. C. D.-Samuel Herbert Fisher--Harriet Langdon Pruyn-R. H. Calely- M. B.-L. Mabel New-
man-Paul Clagstone-Vincent Zohrowski-Willie E. Galloway-Walter M. Arnold-S. F. Riches-John MacCracken-Kittie R.
Kipp -Harrison Hall Schaff- Florence A. Pool-VioletA. Todd -Mary Helen Ritchie -W. Martin-A. E. Cotrel -Pauline Lattimore-
E. W.-Maude Pike-Charles Richardson-"Honor Bright"-M. Louise Grozier-J. C. Loos-Lillie MacVolland-Emma L. Flagg-
May B. Gray-Mary B. Boyd-Herbert P. Morton -Mary Yeager- Belle I. Miller- Magella Pool-E. M. Perry-George Shepard-
Bessie Carroll- Effie Lovell-Lulie Stockton-- Abbie Scott- Nellie A. Freeman-Maude Graves- Margaret G. Spring -Pearl
McColl- E. C. Armstrong-Alice J. Allen Martie Le R. Stoddard Orie Stevens- George James Bayles Annie Blanton James
R. Allen- Samuel Parry- Ralph W. Newcomb -Nora Brewer- William H. Allen Lizzie Beecher George S. Mason Georgia A.
Capen-Ed. Munger- Blackford Mills Condit-Gertrude E. Bromfield-Ned Pierson--Eugenia Winston--Clarence H. Newton-
Harry C. Nesbit Sarah M. Roberts Eleanor McFetridge Blanche M. Henszey Alexander Whiteside, Jr.- Geo. Candee Gale-
R. M. Hotaling- Margaret Brent-E. Heydon Baker--Grace Barstow-Louis M. Bishop-Warren P. Sheldon--Elliott Forsyth-
Lulu T.-Arthur N. Dennis--Augustus L. Craig -Archie B. Jennings--L. E. Smalley--Alice B. Wilbur-Eddie Chenevent-
Perry M. Riley-Etta L. Hodgdon-Henry A. Bull-Edward Thomas- Minnie A. Olds- Frank Lee-Bessie Hall-Philip Ferris-
Zoe E. Hubby-Mary M. Mears-Robert D. Jenks-Leland S. Boruck-Sada Tomlinson- Frederic Wm. Bailey-Helen M.
Perkins -Shelton Fleetwood Margarita Grace -Elena Maria Grace -Emily Geiger-George Whippey- Harry Patterson- Libbie
Williams C. R. Hervey-Thee. A. Straub -Nimmo F. Pettis-Henry F. Peake-Edmund A. Burnham -Lizzie Warren La Mont
-Willie C. Cook Mamie Tomlinson -Lizzie S. Peebles -Mary E. Nichols- Gertie Hurd -Mary Leiraux Mabel A. J. Cornish-
Theron A. Harmon- Sarah Gruntal- Miriam Gutman -Helen C. McCleary-H. V. De Hart- Andy Colvin-" Sandpiper "-Annie
Armstrong-Fred A. Brady-Josie Bigelow-Harry E. Witmer-Henrietta Van Cleve-Walter A. Walmesley-Fanny L. Van
Cleve-" Rexie"-John Rogers Gaum-Addie House- Mabelle L. Parker-S. M. Muncaster-Fred. S. Elliott-Fred. Mersil-Wm.
McDowell-Jas. F. Berry-Wm. C. Henry-Annie E. Frazer-Willie C. Perry.


Mabel Cilley-Calvin W. Gibbs-Maye Boorman-Rudolph L. Grunert-Lizzie C. Roberts-Frank Shallenberger-Agnes Young
-Mary Snellbaker-Clara Gilbert-Margt. Neilson Armstrong-Belle Patterson-Estelle La Paz-Lizzie H. Knieffier-Hollis C.
Clark- Pare Winston -Ettie M. Withey-Herbert Sloan- Agnes B. Walker--Howard C. Ives- Helen E. Sands--Josephine E.
Chapman--Helen M. -. ,. -' ., Hitchcock Eleanor Ennis--Bessie L. Cary-Josie Nicholls--Edith A. Edwards Charles T.
Slider-Orville H. I ...I-- ...,: M. McKee-E. P. MacMullen-Helen Thomas-Jessie S. Hoyt-Rosa Scott-Sue D.
Huntington-Amy T. Briggs-Anna G. Clark-Sara Bair- Katie B. Sullivan- Edward D. Hinckley- Minnie Moreno -May Jack-
son Eliza M. Grace- Annie Jenkins- May A. Morse- May Roberts- Ella Wooster-- Kittie Vanderveer-Dannie B. 1 .. :l: -
Adele Bacon-Jessie Price Thomas-" Ida "- Florence P. Fay-George Moulton McIntosh-Mabel C. Craft--Evangeline i-l
Carrie McNaughton- Helen Loveland Virginia C. Gardner- Mildred W. Howe-James A. Harris- Laura H. Wild- George
Randolph-Maud V. Du Bois-Bennett Hornsby Armstrong-Fanny Gearhart-W. E. Borden-Clara E. Holloway-Mamie M.
Bryce- Cora B. Riggs Richard Clunan Med E. Dey Sallie Janney- Rachel L. Pierce Alice Hyde- Emma M. Curran Nan-
nie B. Sale -Arthur W. Rice Lilian Andrews Laura M. White Anna E. Wright Charlie Scarritt Nellie Whitcomb Gracie E.
Richardson-Mattie P. Baldwin-Jane Peoples -Harriette R. Horsfall-Luita N. Booth-Anna Hotchkiss-Jennie F. King-
Georgina C. Wolseley-Grace Goodridge--Luther Davis--J. M. Mitcheson -Mary White Morton-"Teddie"-Maud Adams-
Elizabeth Alling-Alice Robinson-Blanche Brown- Laura Virginia Julian-Florence M. Tabor-M. Fanner Murphy-Hattie L.
James- Otto R. Barnett- May E. Holland--Josie Nicholls- Ettie Rambar- Josephine de Roug6- Rosalind Webling -"Honor
Bright "- Abbie Hough Pierce May Meinell Bertody W. Stone Adele Marsh Mary G. Millett- Albert Clausen Mary F. Kent
Mary D. Reeve Herbert Crane Gertrude R. White Frank Smalley Maude Burton Walter A. Knight May Craig- T. S. K.
-Lydia B. Wiley- Mabel Burr- Edward Marlor-Joseph Bartlett Acken- Gaylord Miles-D. H. Bates, Jr.-Nellie H. Grandino-
Ellen L. Way-Annie Hughes- Florence Hyde Edith Kursheedt -Jennie S. Thomson -Maude Graves-Etta C. Johnson -Bram-
well C. Davis Frank M. Bosworth C. A. Horne- Margaret Deane Mabel C. Falley.

See ST. NICHOLAS for April, page 475.


J- 41.S

hkt f ~ 2

~ 'I'

,' ,^ .. y - ". ,,, 1 a
.'.... .. .-


PEACE and joy be with you, my girls and boys !
Summer greets you, and sends you merry rest
and play. Open your eyes and hearts wider than
ever, and be glad.
And now, just for a little while before school
closes, let us consider:
THE other day, Deacon Green surprised the
youngsters of the Red School-house very much.
He was telling them what an advantage the schol-
ars who take great interest in their studies have
over those who take only little interest,--"for,"
said he, bowing to the dear Little School-ma'am as
he spoke, I am sure every boy and girl in this room
can not help taking some interest in even the dull-
est lesson."
Then he went on to explain to them how won-
derfully interest works. Not only now, not all at
once, but in the course of life. It cumulates,"
said he, "like money interest. For instance:
Some boys and girls take two per cent. in-
terest in their studies, and some take ten per
cent.-and compound at that, as all interest in
mental improvement must be. Well, what is the
consequence? Is the ten per cent. chap in the
course of years just five times better off than the
two per cent. chap ? No; he is many a five times
better off. His mind will have widened, deepened,
and filled itself, so to speak, in the most surprising
way. Now, I '11 illustrate the point out of your
own arithmetic," and the Deacon turned the pages
at the end of a volume that looked very well-worn
in its first half, but quite clean in the other portion.
"See here," he continued, "look at these fig-
ures and make your own application: 'One dol-
lar loaned at compound interest at one per cent.,'
this book says, 'would amount, in one hundred
years, to two dollars and seventy-five cents exactly.'

Now, what do you suppose it says one dollar
at twelve per cent., compound interest, would
amount to in one hundred years? Why, to eigh-
ty-four thousand, six hundred and seventy-five
dollars. Is n't that more than twelve times two
dollars and seventy-five cents? And, boys, what
do you suppose the one dollar loaned for one
hundred years at twenty-four per cent., compound
interest, would amount to ? Twice eighty-four
thousand, six hundred and seventy-five dollars?
No, sir. It would amount (you see, I'm not
guessing; I'm reading the figures right out of
your own book)--it would amount to two billions,
five hundred and J/-. millions, seven hundred
and ninety-nine thousand, four hundred and four
dollars! ($2,551,799,404). There, boys, what do
you think of that?" The boys were too much
astonished to speak. They looked first at the
Little School-ma'am and then at the Deacon, to
make sure that no joke was being played on them;
and finally a manly little fellow of twelve spoke up
for the whole school:
We think, sir, that we scholars might as well
go in for a high rate of interest, after this."

NEW YORK, May 3, r883
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: Were you standing out-of-doors in
your pretty pulpit all last Sunday, I wonder? It was a strange day
here, but maybe it was different in your meadow. I live in the
upper part of New York City, near the Central Park, and I must say
I never saw such a day. First, when I woke and looked out of the
window, I saw that the pavements were quite dry, so I thought I
would wear my best bonnet to church. Then by breakfast-time it
was raining, and I was afraid I must wear my waterproof. Then by
church-time it was really snowing and hailing, and Mamma said I
must put on my thick sacque. Off we started, the wind cutting my
face like everything. During the service, we heard sounds like
distant thunder, but when we walked home the storm was over and
we felt only a gentle mist. By afternoon it was so bright and clear
that Papa and I walked in the park and admired the willows shak-
ing their tender green tips in the sun; and actually it was so warm
before night that, on our way home, Papa had to take off his over-
coat and carry it on his arm, and I nearly suffocated in my sacque.
In the evening, Grandmaactually asked for a fan! and there was n't
a fire nor a speck of steam-heat in the house. We had spring, sum-
mer, fall, and winter all in one Sunday, Mamma said.
Your admiring friend, JENNY B. C.

SAN MATEO, FLA., April 18, 1883.
something about the devil's darning-needle, and so I write to tell
you that down here in Florida we call them mosquito-hawks. I
thought it would be nice to write and tell you about them. The
reason they call them mosquito-hawks is because they eat the
mosquitoes. I am your constant reader,
ALMOST all of you have seen the pretty summer
flower called the fox-glove. But did you ever
hear that the original name was folks' glove?
"The folks," as all good children know, is an-
other name for the fairies; indeed, this flower to-day
is called by the people of Wales the fairy-glove.
Even the Latin name of the plant is digitalis,
which, the Little School-ma'am says, is derived
from digits, meaning finger. All these finger-
and-glove titles come from the fact that the purple
or white blossoms, as they hang in a row down the
stem, resemble so many swinging glove-fingers;



but, according to my way of thinking, such titles
are anything but a compliment to the fairy-folk.
A funny fairy hand, indeed, five such fingers
would make Why, a whole fairy might easily
slip into one of them Besides, the digitalis is used
as a medicine by the doctors. It 's poisonous,
too. I don't think it belongs to the fairies at all.

JUST hear this melancholy ballad by O. I. C.:


ONCE there was a fisherman
Who went to catch some fish;
He took with him a basket
And a little china dish.
"I'll use one for the fishes,
The other when I sup;
Sor, if they meet my wishes,
I'll cook and eat them up "

He fished and fished the whole
day long,
From morn till late at night;
He baited hooks and watched
his bob,
But could not get a bite.
He then threw down his rod
and line,
And vowed he 'd go below, -
To find out what the reason
The fish had used him so.

v- -

-_-- -::a I-


-- ----.

They said: "We ha
china dish,
Nor basket snug and
But we are very prudei
Who think before w
We do not need to co
Ere we sit down and
And so, before his ver
They ate that fisher

The fish all gathered round
Each wagging his own tail,
From the little polly-woggy
To the great gigantic whale.
Some fish were looking scaly,
And some exceeding thin,
But all were glad to see the
And offered him a fin.

ve no

tight; .
nt fish, -
e bite.
ok our ...

Ssup." ',
y eyes, I'l ',,'.-


THERE is something that troubles your Jack,
greatly. The other day a round rubber ball, that
two boys had been tossing back and forth, rolled
very near to my pulpit. I examined it closely, and
it seemed to be hollow. There was only one tiny
hole, the size of a pin-head, in the entire ball.

Now, this is what troubles me: If that ball was
made in a mold (and it seems to have been), how
did they get the inner part of the mold out of that
tiny hole? Or was the ball made of two hollow
halves stuck together? Or do you suppose they
used a mold at all?
The Little School-ma'am tells me that not only
balls are made of rubber, but dolls, and toy horses,
cows, sheep-in fact, the variety of shapes which
this substance can be made to take is endless.
But about that ball. Do look into the hole, I
mean the subject, -my sharp-eyed chicks, and
let me hear from you about it.

THE birds have just brought in a letter from our
good friend Joel Stacy. Let us read it together:
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: Once I went to a Mrs. Jarley's
Exhibition of Wax-works, modeled after that described in Charles
Dickens's "Old Curiosity Shop," and there, in the scene called The
Chamber of Horrors (a title borrowed from Madame Tussaud's
exhibition of real wax-works in London), I saw a live "wax-figure
representing Lindley Murray in the act of composing his celebrated
grammar." It was very funny to see the fierce way in which this
figure would go through his motions when wound up, dipping his
pen into an imaginary inkstand, and then, according to Mrs. Jarley,
"writing them dreadful rule down into his book which it was
indeed a most suitable bigger for the Chamber of Horrors, as
all well-eddicated young people would testify."
Now, a friend has just sent me a list of books which Lindley
Murray, in 1805, prepared for his niece to read.* She, Alice Colden
Willett, was then a girl in her teens, and one can imagine her
gratitude to her kind uncle when shown the course of reading upon
which she was expected to enter with girlish alacrity. Here itis:
The Idler. Savary's Letters in Egypt and
Guthrie's Geography. Greece.
Morse's Geography. Mandrell'sJourney from Aleppo
Dr. Emerson's Gazeteer. to Jerusalem.
Milton's Paradise Lost. Bryden's Tour through Sicily
Milton's Paradise Regained and Malta.
Thomson's Seasons. Boswell's Tour through the
Young's Night Thoughts. Hebrides.
Pope's Essay on Man. Gisborn on the Duties of the
Akenside's Pleasures of the Im- Female Sex.
agination. Eliza Hamilton's Letteron Ed-
Cowper's Poems. ucation.
Campbell's Pleasures of Hope. Blair's Sermons.
Goldsmith's History of Greece, Gisborn's Sermons.
of Rome, of England. Fordyce's Sermons to Young
Robertson's History of the Em- Women.
peror Charles V. Watts on the Improvement of
History of America. the Mind.
Elizabeth Hamilton's Life Beattie's Evidences of the
of Agrippina, three volumes. Christian Religion.
Middleton's Life of Cicero. Addison's Evidences.
Doddridge's Life of Gardiner. Newton on the Prophecies.
Aiken's View of the Character The Rambler, by Dr. Samuel
of John Howard. Johnson..
Shaw's Travels Through Bar- Kalm's Travelsin North Amer-
bary. ica.
Boswell's Life of Dr. Johnson. Doddridge's Family Expositor.
There is the list, with many a good book in it, but rather appall-
ing to poor Miss Alice, I should say. Did she read all these vol-
umes? your boys and girls will inquire; and did she ever ask for
more? I can not answer. I am thinking of my friend Mrs. Jarley
and little Nell, and a familiar wax biggerr" in the Chamber of
Horrors, and Mrs. Jarley is saying: "Wind him up, old man!
P'int him out, little Nell "
Affectionately yours and the children's, JOEL STACV.

CAN any of my chicks tell me why snakes are
specially respected in certain provinces of India?
I am told on good authority that the natives of
such districts refuse, on account of religious princi-
ples, to kill them; and yet the latest statistics say
that during last year four thousand seven hun-
dred and twenty-three human beings died in those
parts of India from snake bites.

*The original letter containing this list of books is in the Historical Society in New Haven.




CONTRIBuTORs are respectfully informed that, between the Ist of June and the i5th of September, manuscripts can not conveniently
be examined at the office of ST. NICHOLAS. Consequently, those who desire to favor the magazine with
contributions will please postpone sending their MSS. until after the last-named date.

OWING to the space required for the prize compositions and the
report of the Committee, we are compelled this month to omit the
Very Little Folk Department.

WE commend to all our readers Mr. Leland's interesting article
on "Brass-Work for Boys and Girls," in this month's Work and
Play department, and, in connection with it, we are glad to an-
nounce that the author probably will contribute to our pages some
other papers dealing with similar kinds of Work and Play, such as
"Leather-Work," "Wood-Carving," and "Modeling."
That studies in these arts form both useful and enjoyable recrea-
tions for young folks has been amply proven by the success of
the industrial schools in our large cities. And, indeed, the New
York Society of Decorative Art lately solicited aid in extending
instruction in these branches, in a circular, from which we quote
the following:

"The Managers of the Society of Dgcorative Art are very desirous
to extend their educational work in the direction of free instruction
in the minor industrial arts. They wish to form large classes in plain
sewing, embroidery, wood-carving, hammered brass, mosaic work,
and in the rudiments of modeling and design. The experience of
the past five years proves to the Managers that a broad field of use-
fulness lies in the training of children of both sexes, from nine to
fifteen years of age, in industries which may, at the same time, be
both useful and pleasant to them.
The Managers feel that these are years when the fingers may te-
come most expert and the perceptions quickened, as well as the brain
developed; and that this teaching need not interfere, but go hand
in hand--rather as recreation than otherwise-with regular school

HERE is a letter, proving that The Schuyler mansion at Albany
(pictured on page 666 of this number) is not the only old house in
New York State which bears the marks of Indian tomahawks upon
its stairway:
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I live in the country, two miles from
More than a hundred years ago, Sir William Johnson lived here,
and the town was named for him. The house where he lived is
standing. The banisters are all hacked up by the Indians' tom-
There is an old bell in the school-house which Queen Anne sent
here for a church.
There are a great many glove and mitten shops here.
My brothers and I take ST. NICHOLAS. We like it so much we
are going to have the numbers bound to save them. I am eleven
years old. From your admiring friend, HANNAH E. C.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I send you a conundrum that I hope you
will be able to find a place for.
What garden flower does a man name who has paid half his debts ?
Answer--Glad-i-o-lus (Glad-i-owe-less). L. D. H.

SCRANTON, PA., January 3, 1883.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: My Uncle George, who lives in Minneap-
olis, Minn., sends me the ST. NICHOLAS every year as a Christmas
present. I think it is splendid. I can hardly wait for it from one
month to another. As you publish letters from the little folks, I
want to tell you something my aunt, who is living at our house, told
me. She is seventy-five years old. Her name is Mrs. Jane A.
Winton. Her maiden name was Jane A. Pabodie. The story she
told me is about George Washington. It is true, and has never been
published, so far as I know. Here it is: When her father, Ephraim
Pabodie, was a small lad, his father took him to see Washing-
ton, who was then visiting Providence, R. I., where they lived.
When they came into the presence of Washington, the boy said,
"Why, father, he is nothing but a man." Washington heard the

remark, and turning to the lad said: "No, my son, I am nothing
but a man." He seemed so pleased at the speech that he put a
number of pennies into the boy's hand. Aunt's father lived to be
eighty-two years old, and used to tell this story about Washington
with a great deal of interest. Yours truly,

HERE is a Fourth of July picture which comes from a young

34 ," -. .. ... .. ,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I 've had such a time this morning with
my black-and-tan pup. He is only three months old. He bites my

somebody give me a few rules for training him?
Please put this in the Letter-Box. I like youe ever- so nmck;
please remember that, and my name is NANNIE D.
Q w

Anoint your hands well with a strong tea of bitter aloes. Then

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am going to tell you about a little morning witen

that was given to me by the housekeeper at Fort Monroe. It was
white all over, with a little black tail and a black crown on its head.
It was born on Easter, and when I got it it was a week old. It
would lie on its back and drink milk out of bottle. It would hold
the bottle with its hind legs, and put both its fore paws around it.
iYours truly, K.T.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am going a tell you about a little kitten
white all over, with a little black tail and a black crown on its head.
It was born on Easter, and when I got in it was a week old. It
would lie on its back and drink milk out of a bottle. It would hold
the bottle with its hind legs, and put both its fore paws around it.
Yours truly, K. T. D.




THE pleasure is ours once more of extending the thanks of the
A. A. to the gentlemen who offer us assistance in our several depart-
ments. There is still room for more, especially in mineralogy. The
following letters speak for themselves :
I will send, to all of the A. A. members who will send me their
addresses and postage to prepay the same, samples of various flow-
ers, ferns, etc., found on or near this snow-belt of the Sierra Nevada
mountains. I will also send, to all members of the A. A. who may
desire them, specimens of minerals for the simple cost of postage and
packing. Any information on minerals that I can render, I will
cheerfully give to the extent of my knowledge. With me this study
has a great attraction, and here I find endless fields for research.
Some of the most beautiful flowers, highly colored and delicate,
new to your botanists, are found in rocky gorges and steep caions. I
can aid you, I think, in very many ways, and also the others in all
the States. You are at liberty to use this letter in part or entire.
Yours truly, in the cause of education,
After this large-hearted offer, Mr. Briggs, perhaps better known
by his nom de plume, Willie Fern," may look to see the Sierras
prematurely whitened by a snow-fall of responsive letters.
I offer my services to the A. A. in the determination of concholog-
ical specimens. BRUCE RICHARDS,
1726 N. i8th st., Philadelphia, Pa.
I will correspond with any one on shells. THOMAS MORGAN,
Somerville, N. J.

We propose for an experiment to offer a short course in the obser-
vation of insects, to extend through several months. All who suc-
cessfully complete this course shall receive certificates, and be quali-
fied to enter upon a higher one next year. In order that as many
as possible may enter upon the work, it has been made quite simple,
and is as follows:
All members of this class will be expected to write, each month, a
paper on the subject assigned, which paper is to be a record of
original field observations on any one species of the order an-
nounced for the month. To make the matter perfectly clear, the
subjects for the next six months follow :
July. Lepidoptera.
August. Hemiptera.
September. Neuroptera.
October. Diptera.
November. Coleoptera.
December. Insects in general.
The subject for this month is Lefidoptera, and the papers should
be prepared as follows:
i. Give a brief but clear description of the order.
2. Give a careful report of your own observations on any one
species of the order. In this report should be included :
a. Description of the insect, accurate as may be, and, if possible,
accompanied by drawings, however rude; difference in coloration of
the sexes; varieties observed; probable causes of such variation,
such as differences of food, location, and time of year.
b. Habits.-Date of appearance and disappearance of the fpefect
insect number of annual broods; localities most favorable, etc.
c. TransJbrmations.-i. The egg: description, sketch, duration
of this stage; where and how deposited by the female. 2. Larva:
number of molts, and changes noticed in these molts; duration
of each molt, and entire time consumed in this stage; food-plants
of the larva; drawings. 3. Chrysalis: description; methods of pro-
tection and fastening; duration of this stage; special observations.
4. Parasites observed during these stages (ichneunons, chalcids, etc.).
d. Concluding remarks, with notes drawn from various works on
the subject, and alist of such references.
It will be seen that this work can be done by the youngest mem-
bers, as well as the eldest, and in the award of certificates regard will
be had to age as well as merit.
Prof. G. Howard Parker, of the Philadelphia Academy of Sciences,
has very kindly consented to receive and examine these papers, and
to his address (corner Nineteenth and Race streets) all wishing to
enter the class should send their names immediately, as also to the
President of the A. A.
On the completion of the course, a list of the successful students
will be printed in ST. NICHOLAS.
There are no charges for entrance to any of our classes.


Prof. Marcus E. Jones, of Salt Lake, Utah, will conduct a class
of observers in botany. The plan is this:. The members of the

class will collect all possible forms and carefully press them, and send
drawings of them, arranged according to the schemes to be monthly
given in ST. NICHOLAS; or in case of inability to draw, send the
specimens themselves, arranged according to the same schemes.
Plants can be said to have five parts: I. ROOTS; II. STEMIS;
III. LEAVES; IV. FLOWERS (including fruit); V. HAIRS
(Trichomes in general).
The collection of these several parts may be made simultaneously
and as the season requires; but the drawings and specimens must
be sent to Prof. Jones in such monthly installments as the printed
schemes call for. The subject for this month is Roots, and the
specimens must be arranged as follows:
I. ROOTS* are divided into
PRIMARY.t The kinds are
Tap ; the shapes are (they are found in evergreens,
vegetables, etc.),
etc. (Collect combinations of these forms also.)
Midltile (found in grasses, vines, etc.).
(For shapes, see Tap roots.)
SECONDARY. (Those coming from any part of the plant
but the lower end of the stem, i.e., rootlets.)
from root stocks (ferns, sedges, etc.),
from true roots.
.,Erial (above ground),
Used for nourishment:
from strawberry stolons,
many tropical trees,
parasites, etc.
Used not for nourishment:
orchids (tropical),
air-plants of all kinds,
trumpet creepers, etc.,
ivy, etc., etc.
All those who finish this course shall receive the A. A. certificate
also, and have their names printed in ST. NICHOLAS. All who wish
to enter the class should forward their names immediately, both to
Prof. Jones and to the President of the A. A.
The reports from Chapters are more encouraging than ever this
month, but are unavoidably crowded out. The following new Chap-
ters have been organized:


No. Name. Mlfembers. Address.
455. Bedford, Pa. (A)......... 5 "r CT -n-n Jr.
456. Chicago, Ill. (N)......... ... 584W. Wash-
457. Albany, N. Y. (C).......... 6..W. L. Martin, 240 Clinton ave.
458. Haverhill, Mass. (A)..... 7. .H. cy- .--. 1--1- 1
459, Philadelphia, Pa. (N) .. 4..Hanry. I .
460. Georgetown, D. C. (D).. 4..F. A. .
461. E. Orange, N. J. (A).... 13..Miss S. L.Hook, Brick Church
P. O., Essex Co.
462. N. Haven, Conn. (A).... 15..Fred. Post, 34 Edwards.
463. Dayton, Ohio. (B)....... 5..Jos. H. Jones, 233 Commer-
cial street.
464. Westboro, Mass. (A) ... r: Kitty A. Gage.
465. Waterville, Maine. (A)... .- Spencer.
466. Golconda, Ill. (A)....... 6..Clarence E. Kimball.
467. Foster's Crossing, O. (A). 4..Miss Katherine M. Bridge.
468. Saco, Maine (C) .........20.. Miss L. F. Bradbury, box 606.
469. W. De Pere, Wis. (A).... 6.. Miss Annie Tracy.
470. W. De Pere, Wis. (B) ... .25.. Samuel Willard.
471. Germantown, Pa. (D).... o..Miss A. E. Brobson, 1o6 Past-
472. Hazleton, Pa. (A)........ 8..Miss Anne McNair.
473. Washington, D. C. (H).. 4. C. Buchanan, 43 Myrtle street.
474. Greeley, Col. (B)......1.. Miss Flora Ecker.
475. Dundee, Scotland (A)..... 6..Miss A. G. Keiller, Temple
House, Longforgan.
476. Aurora, N. Y. (A).......27..E. L. Wilson.
477. New York, N. Y. (M)... 5 ..A. C. P. Opdyke, 200 W. 57th.
478. Comstocks, N. Y. (A)... 4..Geo. C. Baker.
479. Durhamville, N.Y. (A).. 5..Arthur Fox.
480. Baltimore, Md. (F) ..... 8.. Miss R. Jones, 222 McCulloch.
481. Newton, Mass. (A) ...... o..Fred. H. Hitchcock.

Names more deeply indented than others are considered as belonging to them: as Tap and Multiple are kinds of Primary roots;
cone-shaped, etc., are kinds of Tap roots; Underground and iErial are kinds of Secondary roots, etc.
t The uses of every kind of roots shouldbe carefully observed.



No. Name. Members. Address.
482. Halicong, Pa............i.. Miss Alice M. Atkinson.
483. Albuquerque, New Mex-
ico (A)................ 30.. Ernest D. Bowman.
484. Old Town, Me. (A)...... 6.. Miss Mabel Waldron.
485. Brooklyn Village, O. (A).25..Lewis B. Foote.
486. Rutland, Vt. (A)........ 15..S.W. Merrill.
Nearly 350 new members in a month! Dundee is our first
Chapter in Scotland. Chapters A and C, of Cedar Rapids, Iowa,
have united, retaining the letter and number of A, 64. Our thanks
are due Wilkesbarre for an excellent group photograph of the Chap-
ter. We wish one of each Chapter, if possible.
Chapter 131, Nevada, Cal., is again prepared to fill requests for
exchange, and offers agatized wood, California flowers, classified,
etc.-Maude M. Smith, Sec.


Perfect spirifers and other fossils, for perfect trilobites. Corre-
spondence in S. and W. on entomology and ology.- H. P. Taber,
East Aurora, N.Y.
Bog ore, for tin, zinc, and nickel ore.- G. T. McGee, Jackson,
Petrified sycamore, for insects, and graphite, for rose quartz.- F.
P. -r. .1i 1 ;:.. Sec. Chap. 239.
H I .-. I writes that he has not seen hair-snakes come out of
a cricket, but has found them in a cricket, and his address is Am-
herst, Mass., instead of Providence, RI.
Mocking-birds' eggs.-J. B. Russell, 95 Belleville av., Newark,
N. J.
A vireo's nest and a sparrow's nest, for a tailor-bird's nest.-H.
Montgomery, Saco, Maine.
Correspondence.-W. D. Shaw, Sec. 395, 34 St. Peter street,
Montreal, Canada.
Cocoons.- Leo. Austin, La Porte, Ind.
Labeled minerals and fossils, for fossil cephalopods.-W. R. Lighton,
Ottumwa, Iowa.
Correspondence.- R. E. Coe, Durham, N. Y.
Sand from Gulf of Mexico, for feldspar, geodes, or quartz crys-
tals.-J. C. Winne, Carthage, N.Y.
Minerals.- Geo. C. Baker, Comstocks, N.Y.
All sorts, for geological, botanical, or ornithological specimens.-
Clarence 0. Kimball, Sec. 466, Golconda, Ill.
Marine, land, or fresh-water shells.- Send list to Thomas Morgan,
Somerville, N. J.
Calcite crystal, dogtooth spar, and named fossils of Lower and
Upper Silurian for offers.- Elmer H. Fauver, 50 Hess street, Day-
ton, Ohio. (P. S.-I should like to correspond with some one ac-
quainted with paleontology, especially if he livesamong Devonian
rocks.-E.H. F.)


In response to the offer of a prize for the best essay on the life of one
of the world's famous naturalists, the competition has been unusually
close, and the prize has been adjudged with unexpected difficulty.
Indeed, between an essay on Louis Agassiz, by Miss Mary Rhoads
Garrett, of the Bryn Mawr Chapter, No. 300, and one on John
James Audubon, by Miss Josie Mulford, of Madison, N. J., there
is so nearly an equality of merit that we have decided to give two
prizes instead of one. Honorable mention must also be made of
Miss Zoa Goodwin, of Waverly, Iowa; Richard D. Bancroft, of
Philadelphia; C. L. Snowdon, Oskaloosa, Iowa; and E. B. Miller,
A. C. Rudischhauser, A. B. Conrad, Wm. T. Frohwein, and A.
Nehrbas, all of the Manhattan Chapter, of New York City; F. E.
Cocks, Secretary of Brooklyn, E, and Miss Bessie Deland Williams,
who is only eleven years old. We print one of the prize essays,
which, from its subject, is of especial interest to members of the A. A.

"He prayeth best who loiveth best all things both great and small;
For the dear God who loveth us He made and loveth all."

Louis JOHN RUDOLPH AGASSIZ was born at Motiers, near
Neufchatel, May 28, 1807, when Humboldt, Cuvier, and Napoleon
were thirty-eight years old. His father was a Protestant minister;
and his mother, an intelligent and cultivated woman, taught Louis
till he was eleven years old, when he was sent to the gymnasium of
Bienne. From thence he went to the college at Lausanne, where he
spent his spare time in watching insects and fishing, and then
studied medicine at Zurich, Heidelberg, and Munich. During his
vacations he traveled in different parts of Europe in search of fossil
and fresh-water fishes, and while an undergraduate described in
Latin the Spix Collection of Brazil fish, which gave him distinction
as a naturalist. He graduated at Munich when twenty-three years
old, and staid for some time in the family of his friend M. Cuvier.
At the request of the citizens of his native place, he accepted the
Professorship of Natural History at Neufchatel. About 1833, he

went to Paris and worked in the laboratory of the Jardin des
Plants. As he said afterward in America, he had no time to
become rich; if he had a few spare pennies, he bought a book at
some second-hand stall; but he copied, as closely as possible, many
volumes which he needed but could not buy.
His glacial theory, published in "Etudes sur les Glaciers," and
"Systemes Glacieres," was the result of long vacations spent among
the Alps. He was noted, even by the Alpine guides, for his powers
of walking, and still kept up this habit when he took the Harvard
students on geological excursions.
In 1846, Agassiz came to America, on a visit; but he staid here
because he liked a country where he could think and speak as he
pleased, and where his activity would be appreciated. He was
appointed Professor of Zo8logy and Geology at Harvard Univer-
sity, and his lectures in Boston gave an added interest to those
studies on our continent. He became a master of English compo-
sition, and spoke the language with fluency and eloquence.
Professor Agassiz was an excellent and severe critic of a zaologi-
cal drawing, and his quick brown eye detected the slightest fault.
If the artist was careful, he would reward him with, Try it once
more. 'Tis all wrong, but don't get out of patience." As a student
said, "When the Professor took a class out walking, he saw more
than all of us put together; for he looked, but we only stared."
A pupil, wishing to make a specialty of insects, was started by
Professor Agassiz to watch a fish of the Hmmulon genus, without
any instruments, and was told to keep the specimen wet. He soon
grew disgusted with its "ancient fishy smell." The fish became
dry, and he left for lunch. When he returned, he counted the scales
for a variety, then took out a pencil and began to draw. The
Professor came in and said: "That is right! The pencil is one of
the best of eyes! The next time he asked, Well, what is it
like The student told him. "You have n't yet seen one of the
most conspicuous features of the animal. Look again." It was
now afternoon. Agassiz said, on returning: "Do you see it yet?"
" I see how little I saw before." Go home, now. Think it over;
before you look at it in the morning, I'll examine you." After a
restless night, he was greeted cordially by the Professor, who said,
" Well, what is the conspicuous feature ? Do you mean symmet-
rical sides with paired organs?" Of course and the Professor
was happy on that important point. "What next? the student
asked. Oh, look at your fish! That's not all. Go on !" He did
so for three days--looked at that fish! He says that the study of
the Haemulon for eight months, under Agassiz, was of greater
value than years of later investigation in his favorite branch.
Agassiz had great powers of attraction. Old Valenciennes, at the
Jardin des Plantes, called him Ce cher Agassiz," and the Nahant
fishermen would pull miles to bring him a rare fish, and see his
delight on receiving it.
Since describing the Brazilian fish, it had been a desire of Louis
Agassiz to see them in their native waters. Mr. Thayer, on hearing
of his intended visit, said: Take six assistants with you, and I
will be responsible for their expenses, both personal and scientific."
This offer was accepted and fully carried out till the last specimen
was in the Museum. In 1868 A"--_,- *"--me non-resident Pro-
fessor of Cornell University. .. ,I ., life: giving lectures,
corresponding in three languages, superintending his assistants, and
contributing to scientific literature. In his last summer school,
Agassiz asked his pupils to join him in silent prayer for a blessing
on their labors. He had no sympathy whatever with atheistic scien-
tists, and his opposition to Darwinism was greatly owing to his fear
that it would lead away from God. While holding to evolution in
nature, he taught that types do not change. Darwin called him
his most courteous opponent and most formidable.
His faith was strong in the hour of death, which came to him
suddenly on December 14, 1873. He was buried at Cambridge from
the chapel among the college elms. He was simple in his manners,
not minding in the least carrying specimens in his handkerchief
through the streets of London, and was not desirous of fame, refus-
ing, at the height of Napoleon's power, a seat as Senator of the
Empire and the Directorship of the Jardin des Plantes. While
his was one of the most active and powerful minds, he was always
glad to teach farmers and mechanics, and ready to learn himself as
long as he lived.

[The following works were consulted by the atdl. .
the foregoing essay: Lifipzncott's Biograflical .
elections of Agassiz, by Theodore Lyman, Atlantic Monthly;
Nature, October, 1872; The Net Result, Work of U. S. Fish Com-
mission, W. C. Wyckoff; Character and Characteristic Men, by
Whippk i day, April, 1874; Pofular Science Monthly,
vol. iv., I Union; Dr. Peabody's Fnmeral Sermon;
Cruise ..alafagos, Agassiz; Evolhuion and Perma-
nency of Type, by L. Agassiz (probably his last essay) ; A Journey
in Brazil, by Prof. and Mrs. Agassiz; Christian W weekly, January,
All who write to the scientific gentlemen who are assisting us, or
to the President, will bear in mind the rules given in a late report-
stamped envelope directed. The address of the President is:
Principal of Lenox Academy, Lenox, Mass.




TRACE a path to the flag in the center
without entering any of the four circles.
S. A. R.

THE length of the words described varies
from five to ten letters. When rightly guessed
and placed one below the other, in the order
here given, the second line of letters (read-
ing downward) will spell the Christian name
and the fourth line the surname of an Amer-
ican general upon whose tomb is inscribed,
"He dared to lead where any dared to
I. Not given to artifice. 2. The god of
the healing art. 3. A mouth. 4. A species
of clove-pink, having very beautiful flowers,
and a rich, spicy scent. 5. A kind of ever-
green remarkable for the durability of its
wood, which has a fragrant odor. 6. A
handsome feather, worn upon helmets.
H. 13. S.


.. . r o -- r d
SJ .

THE diagonals (reading downward) from left to right name a gen-
eral famous in American history; the diagonals from right to left
name a general who surrendered to him.
The letters represented by the larger dots spell the name of the
place of the surrender.
ters each): i. Facetious. 2. A claw. 3. Homes of birds. 4.
The people who invaded the Roman empire and defeated the Em-
perior Decius in 251 A. D. 5. A French word meaning listless-
ness. 6. A country residence. 7. Winds about. 8. Compact. 9.
To compare. io. A glossy fabric.
left to right): i. A caper. 2. To bend. 3. Pertaining to a wall.
4. To strike. 5. Erroneous. 6. At no time. 7. A deputy. 8. A
time-piece. 9. Bravery. to. A celebrated law-maker of Athens.

I. i. Behead inscribed, and leave mere repetition. 2. Behead to
expiate, I 'I :..1 und. 3. Behead to upbraid, and leave
frigid. 4 1 .i I 'I.. I, of bushes, and leave margin. 5. Be-
head :, ...- and leave to distribute. 6. Behead a Latin word
meanie ...... ," and leave an augury. 7. Behead to rub harshly,
and leave a fixed price. 8. Behead to tantalize, and leave repose.
9. Behead to suppose, and leave to waste away. so. Behead the
present occasion, and leave at one time. The beheaded letters are
the same as the diagonals reading from left to right.
II. i. Syncopate a kind of nut, and leave a song of praise and
triumph. 2. Syncopate to be buoyed up, and leave insipid. 3.
Syncopate to tear into small pieces, and leave a rude hut. 4. Syn-
copate slender cords, and leave falsehoods. 5. Syncopate young
animals, and leave articles much used in warm weather. 6. Syn-
copate locates, and leave assortments. 7. Syncopate skins of ani-

mals, and leave fondles. 8. Syncopate heaps, and leave a kind of
pastry. 9. Syncopate to raise, and leave a multitude. to. Synco-
pate to besiege, and leave a vegetable. The syncopated letters are
the same as the diagonals reading from right to left.
III. i. Curtail foolish, and leave the threshold. 2. Curtail a
real or imaginary place of restraint, and leave a member. 3. Curtail
one who is conveyed, and leave to drive. 4. Curtail a sharp, ringing
sound, and leave a tribe. 5. Curtail weak, and leave disposed. 6.
Curtail a peculiar language, and leave a marine fish, something like
the cod. 7. Curtail to moisten with dew, and leave the surname of
the hero of a novel by George Eliot. 8. Curtail increased in size,
and leave to cultivate. The curtailed letters are the same as those
represented by the heavier dots in the first diagram.
EACH of the words described contains five letters. The primals
and the third row of letters (reading downward) each name a fine
city; and the finals name the river on which they are located.
CROSS-WORDS: I. Aspirations. 2. To lessen. 3. The name of
the composer of "Ernani." 4. To govern. 5. To follow.
THE initials of the beheaded words will name what our fore-

fathers struggled for.
I. Behead a story, and leave beverage. 2. Behead so be it,"
and leave what Dryden says are "but children of a larger growth."
3. Behead part of a ship, and leave a fish. 4. Behead a snare, and
leave a knock. 5. Behead part of a wheel, and leave anger. 6.
Behead a disfigurement, and leave a conveyance. 7. Behead to
breathe hard, and leave an insect. 8. Behead to spring, and leave a
short sleep. 9. Behead the product of a warm country, and leave
the product of a cold country. 1o. Behead the subject of many
poems, and leave at once. ii. Behead a paradise, and leave a cave.
12. Behead a fruit, and leave part of the body. 13. Behead to re-
volve, and leave to fasten. 14. Behead to repair, and leave to finish.
15. Behead to cut, and leave to bite. 16. Behead a man's name,
and leave an obstruction. 17. Behead part of a boat, and leave a
tree. 18. Behead was aware of, and leave recent. t9. Behead to
scrutinize, and leave a cup. 20. Behead an exploit, and leave to
consume. H. H. D.




THE title of the following verse is an anagram, the letters of which
may be transposed to form a well-known name. The verse is
intended to give a clue to the solution:

NOT in wrath the sword he drew,
But to guard the right.
Who more loyal, tender, true,
Ever fell in fight? PAUL REESE.

MY first, a word of letters two, and sometimes even three;
And in it, when you 're traveling, you 're often glad to be.
My second is a word which naughty children say
When they are told to go to bed and mean to disobey.
My third's a coin which, if thou 'It guess, perhaps I '11 give to
And my whole is what a baby is always sure to be.
ADA H. S., AGED 12.

I AM composed of seventy-five letters, and am a verse from the
Book of Psalms.
My 63-66-61-4-36-55 was the fourteenth President of the United
States. My 38-71-44-48-30 was the surname of a man who was
captured Oct. 17, 1859, at Harper's Ferry. My 70-29-27-6o-9-30-
13-75 was the fifteenth President of the United States. My 50-45-
9-30-14-26-64-35 is the surname of America's most famous states-
man. My 26-66-75-36-72-26-33 is the name of a President of the
United States who met with a tragic end. My 7-13-46-23-68-43-
28-35 is the name of a President of the United States who died in
office. My 54-18-12-66-26-16-44-35 is the name of a distinguished
American legislator who was killed in a duel. My 26-22-37 was an

able Confederate general. My 20-39-51 is what has often been the
winter home of the soldier. My 26-64-41-74-65-40-42 is what our
forefathers fought for. My 73-32-42 is the surname of the writer of
a well-known patriotic song. My 62-17-3-10-2-34-35 is the surname
of an able Union general. My 27-26-68-33-11-47-35 was a British
general in the Revolutionary war. My 1-38-8-57-19-4-47-12-41-66-
53 is the name of a general who fought in the French and Indian war.
My 24-25-26-3x-47-33 was America's firstinventor ofnote. My 27-26-
56-6 was an illustrious American orator and statesman. My 58-6-
26-21-5 was Vice-President and President of the United States.
My 43-52-68-26-49-17 is the name of a battle won by General
Grant. My 69-27-44-59-67 is the name of an American generalwho
fought in the Mexican war. M. T. z.

TRACE a path through this maze, entering at figure one and
passing out at figure two. w. EARLE,


3 3
4 4
AcRoss: I. Unyielding. 2. A raised seat. 3. Much used in
August. 4. Burden.
Diagonals, from left to right and from right to left, each name a
part of a clock. M. D. D.


NUMERICAL ENIGMA. Like the swell of some sweet tune,
May glides onward into June.
PICTURE PUZZLE. Two souls with but a single thought-
Two hearts that beat as one.
QUINCUNX. Across: i. Mash. 2. Egg. 3. Loud. 4. Rod.
5. Fray.
NOVEL WORD-SQUARE. June, user, near, errs.
CHARADE. Robin Hood.
ZIGZAG. John Wesley. Cross-words: i. Junk 2. POrt. 3.
AcHe. 4. SpaN. 5. CoWl. 6. MEad. 7. Stem. 8. PLay. 9.
DiEt. o. PonY.
DIAMOND. i. E. 2. Rud. 3. Peril. 4. Revival. 5. Euri-
pides. 6. Divided. 7. Laden. 8. Led. 9. S.
PROGRESSIVE ANAGRAMS. I. A. 2. Ar. 3. Are, Rae, era, ear.
4. Read, dear. 5. Andre, Arden. 6. Neared, endear, earned. 7.
Yearned, deanery.

TRIPLE ACROSTIC. From i to 1o, base; from 2 to ix, idol; from
3 to 12, ball.
RHOMBOID. Across: i. Inert. 2. Overt. 3. Eneid. 4.
Tales. 5. Dents.
GEOGRAPHICAL HOUR-GLASS. Centrals, Gladstone. Across: i.
AlleGhany. 2. IreLand. 3. ItAly. 4. IDa. 5. S. 6. ITu. 7.
RhOne. 8. GraNada. 9. LeicEster.
OUTLINE PUZZLE. Begin at the extreme right-hand angle; then
N. W. to the corner of the oblong; S. to the lower line; N. E. to
the starting point; W. to the extreme left-hand angle; S. E. to the
lower line; E. to the opposite corner of the oblong; N. W. to upper
corner of oblong; E. to opposite corner; S. W. to lower corner of
oblong; N. to upper corner of oblong; S. W. to extreme left-hand
EASY SYNCOPATIONS. i. Horse, hose. 2. Short, shot. 3.
Smite, site. 4. Blow, bow. 5. Prince, price. 6. Vast, vat. 7.
Road, rod. 8. Heart, hart. 9. Ruin, run.- o. Cause, case.

ANswERs TO PUZZLES IN THE APRIL NUMBER were received, too late for acknowledgment in the June number, from Hester Powell, Lin-
colnshire, England, 7- Bella and Cora Wehl, Frankfort, Germany, 8.
ANSWERS TO ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE MAY NUMBER were received, before April 2o, from Cuchee Smith-" Uncle Dick and Aunt
Winsor"-Arthur Gride -" Silhouette and Co."-Arian Arnold- Helen F. Turner-J. McClintock The Knight Family-" Two Sub-
scribers"- Pinnie and Jack- Mary A. Casal-" Marna and Bae "- F. L. Atbush- C. S. C.- Hugh and Sis Francis W. Islip.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE MAY NUMBER were received, before May 2o, from Joe Sheffield, 4- Helen L. Towne, x -Jessamine, i-
"Tryptolimus Titmouse," 2-Philip Embury, Jr., 0o-Paul Reese, 12-Mary Wright, 2-"Daisy," I-Bessie Brown, 3-Callie
and Louise, Edward Bancroft, 3 Fanne N., I H. Ries, 2- Ed and Tom, 5-Louis, i- Edward E. Gisburne, I- Mertice
McC. Buck, 3- Minnie Van Buren, r -"Jumbo and Jumbo, Jr.,"2- Adrienne M. Duysters, I -Lydia Farnham and Gertrude Fuller,
i -Genie J. Callmeyer and M. Dumonte, I -A. G. T., --Hattie Metcalf, --Russell K. Miller, 2-Mary E. Baker, 4- Charley
Weymouth, 7-"Robin Hood," 3-"Mrs. Nickelby," x-Annie McLaughlin, i-S. R. T., 13-"Dilettant," 9-Bessie and Birdie,
4 -" Betsey Trotwood," 2-"Partners," i i- Mary Nash, 9- Carroll S. Shepard, i-" Sallie," 7-" Sydney Carton," 7 -Florence
Rosenbaum, Dulce and Dorothy, 3-Lewis Fouquet, ro-Edith and Millie Kendall, 3-" The Three," io-Alice and Lizzie Pen-
dleton, i3- Effie K. Talboys, lo- Gaylord Bros., 5-- Jessie B. H., i -"Star," 3 -Reginald H. Murphy, Jr., Nellie, May, and
Puss, 7 -Dycie, i Mamie Hitchcock, 6- Hester M. F. Powell, 8 -The Two Annies, 13 Minnie and Belle, 3 Hattie Nichols, 3
-Clara Small and Emeline Jungerich, 7-Kenneth B. Emerson, 7-Walter H. Clark, 13-The Stewart Browns, 8-L. I., 9-Jennie
and Birdie, 7-I. Ganeaux, 9-Sadie, May, Daisy, and Lou, 7-" Punch and Judy," 4-Katie L. Robertson, 5-Teddie Comstock, i
-"Robin Hood," 5- Emmle C. Dewees, 3-" Boston." 4-Hazel A. Dalton, 2- Charlie M. Philo, 2 -Samuel Branson, 5 -"Queen
Mab," 5-Annie and Louis R. Custer, ni-Estelle Riley, i2-D. B. Shumway, z2-"Calla," 6-Mattie Fitzgerald, i-Hattie
Mason, i- Ariana Moore, 2-" A. P. Owder, Jr.," i -" Rory O'More," 8- Clara J. Child, 12-"Nip and Tuck," 3-May Rogers,
2-Lulie M. Bradley, 13-Alice H. Foster, 3 G. Lansing and J. Wallace, 8-Lottie A. Best, n--"Miltiades," 6-Minnie B.
Murray, xi-C. H. Niemeyer. 7-"Alcibiades," x3-Marguerite Kyte. i-Charles H. Kyte, I3-F. B. and J. D. Harkness. 7-
Sallie Viles, i2-Willie C. Anderson, 5-Joseph Henry Cuming, Pap Elida and Sam Whitaker, 1o-" Lulu and her Mother," 4-
Vessie Westover, 3--H. L. P., 6-Jeannie M. Elliott, io-Algernon Tassin, "o-Alice Austen, 13-Eva Roddin and T. Miller, 4-
Maggie Turrill, 7- Mabel Jennings, x2 Florence P. Jones, I. Numerals denote the number of puzzles solved.




". K"eep yur Card ithi. Pocket and return it
.- with -lie'book to the library.

.' ,.. -:LP .

........Aperso i wfilly and maliciously .
-' ri s uion- or injares a60'k, plate, picture,
S.'. :engraving or etatue belonging to a-law, town
republic li.rary, sli1 be fined not more than
ione thousan-d dollars, nor less tharinfive dol-
Sars." Section .6978, of the General Laws
6 :f f:Verrnont, 191..



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