Front Cover
 Little Pyramus and Thisbe
 The rosy sail
 Halcyon days and halcyon ways
 The Tinkham brothers' tide-mil...
 The squash class
 The boy and the toot
 Tom, Dick, and Harry, in Flori...
 Recollections of a drummer-boy
 Swept away
 Counting up and down
 King Philip - Chief of a school...
 The ship in the moon
 Ways and means
 A funny chicken
 Lost in the woods
 Under the apple-tree
 Work and play for young folk: IX,...
 For very little folk: The story...
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover

Title: St. Nicholas
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00133
 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: VID00133
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 802
    Little Pyramus and Thisbe
        Page 803
        Page 804
        Page 805
        Page 806
        Page 807
    The rosy sail
        Page 808
        Page 809
    Halcyon days and halcyon ways
        Page 810
        Page 811
        Page 812
    The Tinkham brothers' tide-mill
        Page 813
        Page 814
        Page 815
        Page 816
        Page 817
        Page 818
        Page 819
    The squash class
        Page 820
        Page 821
        Page 822
        Page 823
        Page 824
    The boy and the toot
        Page 825
    Tom, Dick, and Harry, in Florida
        Page 826
        Page 827
        Page 828
        Page 829
        Page 830
        Page 831
        Page 832
        Page 833
        Page 834
    Recollections of a drummer-boy
        Page 835
        Page 836
        Page 837
        Page 838
        Page 839
        Page 840
        Page 841
    Swept away
        Page 842
        Page 843
        Page 844
        Page 845
        Page 846
        Page 847
    Counting up and down
        Page 848
        Page 849
    King Philip - Chief of a school tribe
        Page 850
        Page 851
        Page 852
    The ship in the moon
        Page 853
    Ways and means
        Page 854
    A funny chicken
        Page 855
    Lost in the woods
        Page 856
        Page 857
        Page 858
        Page 859
        Page 860
        Page 861
        Page 862
    Under the apple-tree
        Page 863
    Work and play for young folk: IX, the playthings and amusements of an old-fashioned boy
        Page 864
        Page 865
        Page 866
        Page 867
        Page 868
        Page 869
        Page 870
        Page 871
    For very little folk: The story of the paper dollies
        Page 872
        Page 873
        Page 874
        Page 875
    The letter-box
        Page 876
        Page 877
        Page 878
    The riddle-box
        Page 879
        Page 880
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text



-- -I

[See The Playthings and Amusements of an Old-Fashioned Boy," page 864.

',L --.



[Copyright, 1883, by THE CENTURY CO.]




IF any one had asked Johnny Morris who were
his best friends, he would have answered:
The sun and the wind, next to Mother."
Johnny lived in a little court that led off from
one of the busiest streets in the city-a noisy
street, where horse-car bells tinkled and omni-
buses rumbled all day long, going and coming
from several great depots near by. The court was
a dull place, with only two or three shabby houses
in it, and a high blank wall at the end.
The people who hurried by were too busy to do
more than to glance at the lame boy who sat in
the sunshine against the wall, or to guess that
there was a picture gallery and a circulating
library in the court. But Johnny had both, and
took such comfort in them that he never could be
grateful enough to the wind that brought him his
books and pictures, nor to the sun that made it pos-
sible for him to enjoy them in the open air, far
more than richer folk enjoy their fine galleries
and libraries.
A bad fall, some months before the time this
story begins, did something to Johnny's back
which made his poor legs nearly useless, and
changed the lively, rosy boy into a pale cripple.
His mother took in fine washing, and worked hard
to pay doctors' bills and feed and clothe her boy,
who could no longer run errands, help with the
heavy tubs, nor go to school. He could only pick
out laces for her to iron, lie on his bed in pain for

hours, and, each fair day, hobble out to sit in a little
old chair between the water-butt and the leaky tin
boiler in which he kept his library.
But he was a happy boy, in spite of poverty and
pain; and the day a great gust came, blowing
fragments of a gay placard and a dusty newspaper
down the court to his feet, was the beginning of
good fortune for patient Johnny. There was a
theater in the street beyond, and other pictured
bits found their way to him; for the frolicsome
wind liked to whisk the papers around the corner,
and chase them here and there till they settled
under the chair or flew wildly over the wall.
Faces, animals, people, and big letters, all came
to cheer the boy, who was never tired of collecting
these waifs and strays; cutting out the big pict-
ures to paste on the wall with the leavings of
mother's starch, and the smaller in the scrap-
book he made out of stout brown wrappers or
newspapers, when he had read the latter carefully.
Soon it was a very gay wall, for mother helped,
standing on a chair, to put the large pictures up,
when Johnny had covered all the space he could
reach. The books were laid carefully away in the
boiler, after being smoothly ironed out and named
to suit Johnny's fancy by pasting letters on the
back. This was the circulating library; for not
only did the papers whisk about the court to begin
with, but the books they afterward made went the
rounds among the neighbors till they were worn
The old cobbler next door enjoyed reading the


No. II.


anecdotes on Sunday when he could not work,
the pale seamstress upstairs liked to look over
advertisements of the fine things which she longed
for, and Patsey Flynn, the newsboy, who went by
each day to sell his papers at the station, often
paused to look at the play-bills; for he adored the
theater, and entertained Johnny with descriptions
of the splendors there to be beheld, till he felt as
if he had really been, and had known all the fa-
mous actors, from Buffalo Bill to the great Salvini.
Now and then, a flock of dirty children would
stray into the court and ask to see the "pretty
picters." Then Johnny was a proud and happy
boy; for, armed with a clothes-pole, he pointed
out and explained the beauties of his gallery, feel-
ing that he was a public benefactor when the poor
babies thanked him warmly, and promised to come
again and bring all the .nice papers they could
pick up.
These were Johnny's pleasures; but he had two
sorrows,-one, a very real one, his aching back, and
the other, a boyish longing to climb the wall and
see what was on the other side; for it seemed a
most wonderful and delightful place to the poor
child, shut up in that dismal court, with no play-
mates and few comforts.
He amused himself with imagining how it
looked over there, and nearly every night added
some new charm to this unseen country, when his
mother told him fairy tales to get him to sleep.
He peopled it with the dear old characters all chil-
dren know and love. The white cat that sat on
the wall was Puss in Boots to him, or Whitting-
ton's good friend. Blue Beard's wives were hid-
den in the house of whose upper windows the
boy could just catch glimpses. Red Riding Hood
met the wolf in the grove of chestnuts that rustled
over there, and Jack's Beanstalk grew up just such
a wall as that, he was sure.
But the story he liked best was the "Sleeping
Beauty in the Wood," for he was sure some lovely
creature lived in that garden, .and he longed to
get in to find and play with her. He actually
planted a bean in a bit of damp earth behind the
water-barrel, and watched it grow, hoping for as
strong a ladder as Jack's. But the vine grew very
slowly, and Johnny was so impatient that he prom-
ised Patsey his best book for his ownty-donty,"
if he would climb up and report what was to be
seen in that enchanted garden.
"Faix, and I will, thin," and up went good-
natured Pat, after laying an old board over the
hogshead to stand on; for there were spikes all
along the top bf the wall, and only cats and spar-
rows could walk there.
Alas for Johnny's eager hopes, and alas for Pat's
Sunday best! The board broke, and splash went

the climber, with a wild Irish howl that startled
Johnny half out of his wits and brought both Mrs.
Morris and the cobbler to the rescue.
After this sad event, Pat kept away for a time in
high dudgeon, and Johnny was more lonely than
ever. But he was a cheery little soul, so he was
grateful for what joys he had, and worked away at
his wall; for the March winds had brought him
many treasures, and after April rains were over,
May sunshine made the court warm enough for
him to be out nearly all day.
"I'm so sorry Pat is mad, 'cause he saw this
piece and told me about it, and he'd like to help
me put up these pictures," said Johnny to himself,
one breezy morning, as he sat examining a big
poster which the wind had sent flying into his lap
a few minutes before.
The play was Monte Cristo, and the pictures rep-
resented the hero getting out of prison by making
holes in the wall, among other remarkable per-
This is a jolly red one Now where will I put
it to show best and not spoil the other beauties?"
As he spoke, Johnny turned his chair around
and surveyed his gallery with as much pride and
satisfaction as if it held all the wonders of art.
It really was quite splendid, for every sort of
picture shone in the sun: simpering ladies, tragic
scenes, circus parades, labels from tin cans, rosy
tomatoes, yellow peaches and purple plums, funny
advertisements, and gay bills of all kinds. None
were perfect, but they were arranged with care,
and the effect was very fine, Johnny thought.
Presently his eyes wandered from these treasures
to the budding bushes that nodded so tantalizingly
over the wall. A grape-vine ran along the top,
trying to hide the sharp spikes; lilacs tossed their
purple plumes above it, and several tall chestnuts
rose over all, making green tents with their broad
leaves, where spires of blossom began to show like
candles on a mammoth Christmas tree. Sparrows
were chirping gayly everywhere; the white cat,
with a fresh blue bow, basked on the coping of
the wall, and from the depths of the enchanted
garden came a sweet voice singing:

"And she bids you to come in,
With a dimple in your chin,
Billy boy, Billy boy."

Johnny smiled as he listened, and put his finger
to the little dent in his own chin, wishing the
singer would finish this pleasing song. But she
never did, though he often heard that, as well as
other childish ditties, sung in the same gay voice,
with bursts of laughter and the sound of lively feet
tripping up and down the boarded walks. Johnny
longed intensely to know who the singer was, for



her music cheered his solitude, and the mysterious
sounds he heard in the garden increased his wonder
and his longing day by day.
Sometimes, a man's voice called, "Fay, where
are you?" and Johnny was sure Fay was short
for Fairy. Another voice was often heard talking
in a strange, soft language, full of exclamations and
pretty sounds. A little dog barked, and answered
to the name Pippo. Canaries caroled, and some
elfish bird scolded, screamed, and laughed so like
a human being, that Johnny felt sure that magic of
some sort was at work next door.
A delicious fragrance was now wafted over the
wall as of flowers, and the poor boy imagined
untold loveliness behind that cruel wall, as he
tended the dandelions his mother brought him
from the common, when she had time to stop and
gather them; for he loved flowers dearly and tried
to make them out of colored paper, since he could
have no sweeter sort.
Now and then, a soft, rushing sound excited his
curiosity to such a pitch, that once he hobbled pain-
fully up the court till he could see into the trees,
and once his eager eyes caught glimpses of a little
creature, all blue and white and gold, who peeped
out from the green fans and nodded and tried to
toss him a cluster of the chestnut flowers. He
stretched his hands to her with speechless delight,
forgetting his crutches, and would have fallen, if
he had not caught by the shutter of a window so
quickly that he gave the poor back a sad wrench;
and when he could look up again, the fairy had
vanished, and nothing was to be seen but the leaves
dancing in the wind.
Johnny dared not try this again for fear of a fall,
and every step cost him a pang; but he never forgot
it, and was thinking of it as he sat staring at the
wall on that memorable May day.
How I should like to peek in and see just how
it all really looks. It sounds and smells so sum-
mery and nice in there. I know it must be splen-
did. I say, Pussy, can't you tell a fellow what
you see ? "
Johnny laughed as he spoke, and the white cat
purred politely, for she liked the boy who never
threw stones at her nor disturbed her naps. But
Puss could not describe the beauties of the happy
hunting-ground below, and, to console himself for
the disappointment, Johnny went back to his new
"Now, if this man in the play dug his way out
through a wall ten feet thick with a rusty nail and
a broken knife, I don't see why I could n't pick
away one brick and get a peek. It 's all quiet
in there now; here 's a good place, and nobody
will know, if I stick a picture over the hole. And
I'll try it, I declare I will "

Fired with the idea of acting Monte Cristo on
a small scale, Johnny caught up the old scissors in
his lap, and began to dig out the mortar around a
brick already loose, and crumbling at the corners.
His mother smiled at his energy, then sighed and
said, as she clapped her laces with a heavy heart.:
"Ah, poor dear, if he only had his health he'd
make his way in the world. But now he 's like to
find a blank wall before him while he lives, and
none to help him over."
Puss, in her white boots, sat aloft and looked on,
wise as the cat in the story, but offered no advice.
The toad who lived behind the water-barrel hopped
under the few leaves of the struggling bean, like
Jack waiting to climb, and just then the noon bells
began to ring as if they sang clear and loud, Turn
again, Whittington, Lord Mayor of London."
So, cheered by his friends, Johnny scraped and
dug vigorously till the old brick fell out, showing
another behind it. Only pausing to take breath,
he caught up his crutch and gave two or three
hearty pokes, which soon cleared the way and let
the sunshine stream through, while the wind
tossed the lilacs like triumphal banners, and the
jolly sparrows chirped :
Hail, the conquering hero comes !"
Rather scared by his unexpected success, the boy
sat silent for a moment to see what would happen.
But all was still, and presently, with a beating heart,
Johnny leaned forward to enjoy the long desired
"peek." He could not see much, but that little
increased his curiosity and delight, for it seemed
like looking into fairyland, after the dust and noise
and dingy houses of the court.
A bed of splendid tulips tossed their gay gar-
ments in the middle of a grass-plot; a strange
and brilliant bird sat dressing its feathers on a
golden cage; a little white dog dozed in the sun,
and on a red carpet under the trees lay the prin-
cess, fast asleep.
"It's all right," said Johnny, with a long sigh
of pleasure; "that's the sleeping beauty, sure
enough. There 's the blue gown, the white fur
cloak sweeping 'round, the pretty hair, and-yes
-there's the old nurse, spinning and nodding,
just as she did in the picture-book Mother got me
when I cried because I could n't go to see the play."
This last discovery really did bewilder Johnny,
and make him believe that fairy tales imigil be
true, after all; for how could he know that the
strange woman was an Italian servant, in her native
dress, with a distaff in her hand. After pausing a
moment to rub his eyes, he took another look, and
made fresh discoveries by twisting his head about.
A basket of oranges stood near the princess, a
striped curtain hung from a limb of the tree to
keep the wind off, and several books fluttered their


pictured leaves temptingly before Johnny's long-
ing eyes.
"Oh, if I could only go in and eat 'em and
read 'em and speak to 'em and see all the splen-
did things !" thought the poor boy, as he looked
from one delight to another, and felt shut out
from all. I can't go and wake her like the
Prince did, but I do wish she'd get up and do
something, now I can see. I dare n't throw a
stone, it might hit some one, or holler, it might
scare her. Pussy wont help, and the sparrows are
too busy scolding one another. I know I 'll fly a
kite over, and that will please her any way. Don't
believe she has kites; girls never do."
Eager to carry out his plan, Johnny tied a long
string to his gayest poster, and then fastening it to
the pole with which he sometimes fished in the
water-cask, held it up to catch the fresh breezes
blowing down the court. His good friend, the wind,
soon caught the idea, and with a strong breath
sent the red paper whisking over the wall, to hang
a moment on the trees and then drop among
the tulips, where its frantic struggles to escape
waked the dog and set him to racing and barking,
as Johnny hurriedly let the string go and put his
eye to his peep-hole.
The eyes of the princess were wide open now,
and she clapped her hands when Pippo brought
the gay picture for her to see; while the old woman,
with a long yawn, went away, carrying her distaff,
like a gun, over her shoulder.
She likes it! I'm so glad. Wish I had some
more to send over. This will come off; I'll poke
it through, and maybe she will see it."
Very much excited, Johnny recklessly tore from
the wall his most cherished picture, a gay flower-
piece, just put up, and folding it, he thrust it
through the hole and waited to see what followed.
Nothing but a rustle, a bark, and a queer croak
from the splendid bird, which set the canaries to
trilling sweetly.
She don't see; may be she will hear," said
Johnny, and he began to whistle like a mocking-
bird, for this was his one accomplishment, and he
was proud of it.
Presently he heard a funny burst of laughter
from the parrot, and then the voice said:
"No, Polly, you can't sing like that bird. I
wonder where he is? Among the bushes over
there, I think. Come, Pippo, let us go and find
Now she 's coming and Johnny grew red in
the face trying to give his best trills and chirrups.
Nearer and nearer came the steps, the lilacs
rustled as if shaken, and presently the roll of paper
vanished. A pause, and then the little voice ex-
claimed, in a tone of great surprise:

"Why, there's a hole I never saw it before.
Oh I can see the street. How nice How nice "
She likes the hole I wonder if she will like
me," and, emboldened by these various successes,
Johnny took another peep. This was the most
delicious one of all, for he looked right into a great
blue eye, with glimpses of golden hair above, a little
round nose in the middle, and red lips below. It
was like a flash of sunshine, and Johnny winked,
as if dazzled; for the eye sparkled, the nose sniffed
daintily, and the pretty mouth broke into a laugh
as the voice cried out delightedly:
I see some one! Who are you? Come and
tell me "
"I 'm Johnny Morris," answered the boy, quite
trembling with pleasure.
Did you make this nice hole ?"
I just poked a brick, and it fell out."
Papa wont mind. Is that your bird ? "
"No, it's me. I whistled."
"It's very pretty. Do it again," commanded
the voice, as if used to give orders.
Johnny obeyed, and when he paused, out of
breath, a small hand came through the hole, grasp-
ing as many lilies of the valley as it could hold, and
the princess graciously expressed her pleasure by
saying, I like it; you shall do it again, by and by.
Here are some flowers for you. Now we will talk.
Are you a nice boy ?"
This was a poser, and Johnny answered meekly,
with his nose luxuriously buried in the lovely
"Not very- I 'm lame -I can't play like other
"Porverino sighed the little voice, full of pity;
and, in a moment, three red-and-yellow tulips fell at
Johnny's feet, making him feel as if he really had
slipped into fairy-land through that delightful hole.
"Oh, thank you! Aren't they just elegant I
never see such beauties," stammered the poor boy,
grasping his treasures as if he feared they might
vanish away.
You shall have as many as you like. Nanna
will scold, but Papa wont mind. Tell me more.
What do you do over there ?" asked the child,
"Nothing but paste pictures and make books,
when I don't ache too bad. I used to help Mother,
but I got hurt, and I can't do much now," an-
swered the boy, ashamed to mention how many
laces he patiently picked or clapped, since it was
all he could do to help.
"If you like pictures, you shall come and see
mine some day. I do a great many. Papa shows
me how. His are splendid. Do you draw, or
paint yours?"
I only cut 'em out of papers and stick 'em on




this wall, or put 'em in scrap-books. I can't draw,
and I have n't got no paints," answered Johnny.
You should say 'have n't any paints.' I will
come and see you some day, and if I like you, I will
let you have my old paint-box. Do you want it? "
Guess I do !"
I think I shall like you, so I'll bring it when I
come. Do you ache much ?"
Awfully, sometimes. Have to lay down all
day, and can't do a thing."
Do you cry? "
"No! I'm too big for that. I whistle."
"I know I shall like you, because you are
brave cried the impetuous voice, with its pretty
accent; and then an orange came tumbling
through the hole, as if the new acquaintance
longed to do something to help the ache."
Is n't that a rouser I do love 'em, but Mother
can't afford 'em often," and Johnny took one de-
licious taste on the spot.
"Then I shall give you many. We have loads
at home, much finer than these. Ah, you should
see our garden there! "
"Where do you live?" Johnny ventured to
ask, for there was a homesick sound to the voice
as it said those last words.
"In Rome. Here we only stay a year, while
Papa arranges his affairs; then we go back, and I
am happy."
"I should think you'd be happy in there. It
looks real splendid to me, and I've been longing
to see it ever since I could come out."
"It's a dull place to me. I like better to be
where it's always warm, and people are more beau-
tiful than here. Are you beautiful?"
"What queer questions she does ask!" and
poor Johnny was so perplexed he could only
stammer with a laugh :
"I guess not. Boys don't care for looks."
"Peep, and let me see. I like pretty persons,"
commanded the voice.
"Don't she order 'round," thought Johnny, as

he obeyed. But he liked it, and showed such a
smiling face at the peep-hole, that Princess Fay
was pleased to say, after a long look at him:
"No, you are not beautiful, but your eyes are
bright, and you look pleasant; so I don't mind
the freckles on your nose and the whiteness of
your face. I think you are good; I am sorry for
you, and I shall lend you a book to read when the
pain comes."
"I could n't wait for that if I had a book. I do
love so to read!" and Johnny laughed out from
sheer delight at the thought of a new book, for he
seldom got one, being too poor to buy them, and
too helpless to enjoy the free libraries of the city.
Then you shall have it now," and there was
another quick rush in the garden, followed by the
appearance of a fat little book, slowly pushed
through the hole in the wall.
"This is the only one that will pass. You will
like Hans Andersen's fairy tales, I know. Keep it
as long as you please. I have many more."
"You 're so good! I wish I had something
for you," said the boy, quite overcome by this
sweet friendliness.
"Let me see one of your books. They will
be new to me. I'm tired of all mine."
Quick as a flash, off went the cover of the old
boiler, and out came half a dozen of Johnny's
best works, to be crammed through the wall, with
the earnest request:
"Keep 'em all; they're not good for much, but
they're the best I've got. I'll do some prettier
ones as soon as I can find more nice pictures and
"They look very interesting. I thank you. I
shall go and read them now, and then come and
talk again. Addio, Giovanni."
"Good-bye, Miss."
Thus ended the first interview of little Pyramus
and Thisbe through the hole in the wall, while
Puss sat up above and played moonshine with her
yellow eyes.

(To be concluded.)





OVER the level, sparkling sand,
All through the golden afternoon,
The sisters wandered hand in hand
To hear the winds and waters croon.

The waves sang low, the waves sang sweet,
With mellow murmur full and deep;
The ocean glittered in the heat,
The warm wind breathed like one asleep.

The white gull shone in depths of blue,
On airy pinions floating wide;
And slowly, slowly downward drew,
With lapsing soft, the ebbing tide.

Silently westward sank the sun;
A whisper skimmed the broad expanse;
The ripples hastened one by one
Along the sand to leap and dance.

The elder spoke : "'T is late, Janet;
The lengthening shadows deeper grow,
The reddening sun will soon have set;
Come, dearest sister, let us go."

The younger answered: Look, Louise,
How yonder far-off, idle sail,
Rose-flushed, is filling with the breeze.
Stay,-Watch it take the loitering gale."

They paused to watch the rosy sail,
While fondly the caressing air
Kissed their bright cheeks and foreheads pale,
And lingered in their lovely hair.

The great sun touched the ocean's rim.
"Ah, come, Janet, we must not wait!
The cliffs are looming tall, and grim;
Come, dear Janet, we stay too late."

As speeds the slender, swift beach-bird,
Homeward they turned along the -shore:
What was the boding sound they heard?
The rapid tide had turned before!

The lazy tide that ebbed so slow,
Returning, hurried fast as fate,
And barred the way they strove to go
With breathless haste-alas, too late!

" O sister, fly! But reach the ledge
We clambered down, and we are safe!"
Ripples grew waves along the edge;
The rousing sea began to chafe:

A trampling as of myriad feet
Heavily charging up the land!
They shuddered,-there was no retreat,-
Straight rock-walls rose on either hand.

The friendly ledge they could not reach
Afar was tossing plumes of spray;
The billows swallowed up the beach,
Like monsters cold in dreadful play.

Ah, me! with what a different voice
The sea raved, that had sung so soft!
A rush, a roar of deafening noise,
And clouds of foam that leaped aloft.

At the cliff's foot, upon the sands,
The sisters stood; no help was nigh;
The breakers stretched white, eager hands
To drag them roughly down to die.

They clung about each other close;
The wind, grown wild, blew their rich hair
This way and that; the waters rose;
They waited mute in still despair.

Sudden, the elder's voice rang clear:
"Janet, Janet! the rosy sail!
This way 't is coming, near, more near! "
In the dim twilight, glimmering pale,

They called aloud across the sea,
A high, sweet, piercing clarion scream!
Theboatmen heard-"What can it be?
Some mermaid shrieking, or a dream?"

Again The sailors turned the prow,
They trimmed the sail, they plied the oar;
No second to be wasted now!
Down to the cliff the stout boat bore.

" Janet, Janet, keep up your heart!
They 're coming, dearest, help is near!
Let not the sea tear us apart-
They shout, Janet! they're almost here."





-~ -s-

1f. rI'" li.L:.'K :!-ped each

.,t ru. I : tLh fiercely

Ii 1 'I- 1-,wn with
I : 1, i,-
-. I iii,:. i r -i o ult flung

,, ,i ..r,,, -- Kut they

S : '- ..!: thought,
S i... 1h I,:,. .:. !fe they
By strong, kind hands securely caught.

And clinging close together still
They sailed, with eyes all tearful-bright,
Till up the coast, from its green hill,
Their home sent out its beckoning light.






r I.


WHERE is the country boy who do
the kingfisher, and who has not often
daring feats and eccentric ways; who
him plunge fearlessly into the rushing
heard his brisk rattle echo along its
though he is one of our common.
interesting birds, few persons are su
servant to be acquainted with the deta
and habits.
The kingfisher family (Alcedinid
up of a great many different species,
tered throughout the world, almost e
possessing one or more representati
northern United States and in Canada
country is intersected by numerous
lakes abounding in fish, we have but
the belted kingfisher (Ceryle alcyon)
the Mexican border the green kingf


Americana), is occasionally met witl
so frequently as the former species
chiefly about the belted kingfisher t
tell you here.
At the first glance we are struck w
iar form of this bird. The head seem
large and the feet look ridiculously
portion to the wings, tail, and bod
closer investigation we realize how a
apparent disproportion adapts him

es not know of life ; in fact, were he differently constructed, he
watched his would be an utter failure as a fisherman. The
has not seen small, delicate feet enable him to perch securely
stream, and upon the slender twigs usually found overhanging
banks? But the water, or even, as I once observed, upon a
st and most telegraph wire-a feat of balancing which would
efficiently ob- have been impossible for most birds of his size.
ils of his life (I have seen the robin -a much smaller bird -
attempt the same feat, but with very poor success.)
'e) is made The weight of the kingfisher's head serves to
and is scat- balance and carry him with greater swiftness in
very country his downward, arrow-like plunges; and the long
ves. In the bill, with its rough, sharp edges, enables him to hold
, though the fast the slippery, wriggling minnows which form
s rivers and his principal food. The entire length of the bird
one species, is about twelve and three-quarter inches, of which
; while near the head alone, from the tip of the bill to the end
isher (Ceryle of the crest, measures nearly five. The upper parts,
the band or belt across the breast, and a few
irregular markings under the wings, are of an
ashy-blue color, darkest about the head; while the
under parts and throat, as also a small spot in
front of the eye, another just beneath it, and nu-
merous narrow bars across the under side of the
tail, are of a beautiful white. The female and
young differ from the adult male in having the
sides of the body and the belt flecked and spotted
S with a tinge of bright chestnut.
Although the kingfisher sometimes remains in the
Northern States during mild winters, he is usually
-' only a summer visitor, arriving from the South
'- about the first of April; and, feeding as he does
Almost exclusively upon various kinds of fish and
crustaceans, he is generally found along the banks
of streams, rivers, lakes, salt-water inlets, or where-
ever his food is abundant. Like most of his
craft, he prefers being alone. Two are rarely seen
; fishing near each other. His favorite perch is a
L.e post, stump, or branch projecting over the water,
and at times he takes advantage of the masts and
booms of small boats at anchor.
i, though not Upon some such convenient object he often sits
. And it is for an hour at a time, looking into the water and
hat I wish to watching intently for unsuspecting minnows to
approach the surface, or for a craw-fish, the claws
ith the pecul- of which are projecting from beneath a shelter-
is enormously ing stone, to emerge and wander about over the
small in pro- pebbles. From time to time he changes the posi-
y. But upon tion of his head, first to one side, then to the other,
dmirably this and often in so doing twitches his tail in a nervous,
to his mode impatient manner. At last he sees his chance.






He lowers his crest, looks steadily at one spot,
makes a sudden movement forward, but checks
himself, waits a second or two, then with a rapid
sweep dives into the water, catches his victim
in his strong
bill, and flies
back to his
post. If the
captive hap-
pen to be a
fish of conve-
S, nient size, the
bird throws
s" back his head
i ld swallows it
S'iamediately. But
S' he has caught
large minnow or
S-rish, he batters it
'h .i .. sufficiently soft
i- :rr. r swallowing by
Sr ,.:, .- it repeatedly
S.-r the object upon
I". I- e is sitting.
S T 1. is not generally
I..i. by downward
1. '!.. :. s one would nat-
.i! II I :ppose, but by
-:r.:.1:.: from the side,
.....ilinied by a sort
S... li i ,Ig motion, some-
., r a terrier shakes
- After disposing
I .. .1 prey he daintily
,.'l ,.. 3 his feathers,
and having winked once
THE LONG-TAILED KING- or twice, and slowly
FISHER, NEW GUINEA. raised and lowered his
crest with a very satisfied air, he settles himself
again upon his perch and is ready for another meal.
Convenient objects upon which to alight are
not, however, always at hand. In many places
shoals exist at considerable distances from shore;
in others, long stretches of beach intervene between
the bank and the water's edge; and in places of
this kind his food is frequently abundant. In
order to get a good view of the fish in such situa-
tions, he is obliged to mount into the air a distance
of about fifty feet, and by a rapid, fluttering move-
ment of his wings keep himself suspended until
he has singled out a likely victim, when, darting
down, he secures it, and flies away to the shore.
Often he descends to within two or three feet of
the water, and then rises again without diving,
probably finding before reaching the surface that
he would be unsuccessful. At times he plunges
into the water, but misses his mark altogether; at

others, after a short struggle, he emerges with
nothing in his bill, the game having wriggled
loose and escaped, even so skillful a sportsman as
he, it would seem, not being entirely exempt from
the uncertainties of fishermen's luck."
In some localities where the shores of the lakes
and rivers are stony, minnows are often scarce, and
the kingfishers feed almost exclusively on craw-fish.
In picking up these small, lobster-like animals
from the bottom, they sometimes strike their bills
against the stones with considerable force; and I
once obtained a specimen which had its lower
mandible worn quite blunt at the point, while the
tip of the upper one was splintered and broken
for nearly a quarter of an inch.
An artist friend of mine once had a most re-
markable kingfisher adventure. While sketching
on the shore of a river, he saw one of these birds
flying across the water directly toward him. He
watched its approach, expecting every moment to
see it change its course, but, to his astonishment,
the bird, swerving neither to the right nor left,
came straight at his face. His hands were filled
with palette and brushes. He raised his foot to
shield himself. Thud came the bird against
it, falling to the ground stunned by the shock; but,
recovering quickly, it again took wing and disap-
peared around a bend in the shore. Now, the
snowy owl (Nyc/ea scandiaca) is said to alight at
times upon the heads of sportsmen while they are
crouching quietly among the reeds watching for

wild geese and ducks, probably mistaking them
for stumps or something of that sort. But to sup-
pose that the kingfisher may have taken my friend
for a stump would not be complimentary to either
the bird or the artist.



Soon after the arrival of the kingfishers in the
spring, they choose mates and begin nest-building.
The nest -is rather curious, and differs from that
of most birds in being placed under-ground, at the
end of a narrow tunnel from four to fifteen feet in
length, dug into the steep bank of a stream or
lake, the opening being usually several feet above
the water. Both birds work diligently at the exca-
vation, which becomes wider as it deepens, until,
at the end, it is large enough to contain the nest
and the young birds. The kingfisher's cry is said
to resemble the sound of a watchman's rattle (an
instrument that is no longer in use, except in a
modified form as a child's toy), and is heard at all
times; but while the birds are engaged in nesting
and caring for their young, it is kept up almost
incessantly. The eggs, which are generally six in
number, nearly spherical, and beautifully clear


and white, are laid, according to some writers, upon
the bare sand at the end of the burrow, while
others affirm that they are protected by a rudely
made nest of feathers, dry grass, and fish-bones.
Toward the latter part of summer, when the
young have left the nest and are capable of taking
care of themselves, the kingfishers lose to some ex-
tent their shy watchfulness and become very fat and
lazy. When shot at this season, the fat will actually
ooze through the shot-holes and spread like oil over
the surface of the water where the bird falls, while,

upon removing the skin, the body is found envel-
oped in a coating of fat nearly a quarter of an inch
in thickness. This great quantity of blubber is,
I suppose, stored up and kept in reserve, to serve
as a source of supply during the famine of the late
autumn, when many of the streams are frozen, and
also during the fatiguing southward migration.
According to the ancients, the kingfisher, called
in Greek, Halcyon, or &xauiv (from ic, the sea,
and .6muv, brooding upon), was so named from
Halcyone, a daughter of JEolus, and the wife of
Ceyx. The story goes that Ceyx was drowned
while on his way to consult the oracle, and that, in
a dream that night, Halcyone was informed of the
fate of her husband. Next morning, as she wan-
dered disconsolately upon the shore, she found his
body washed up by the waves, and, overcome with
grief, threw herself into the sea. The gods, in ad-
miration of their mutual affection, changed them
15, F: l i1. ers.
I l-.- !-, .,shers were supposed, at that time, to
,I,-i:.: r!i-.-,, ,ests during the seven days preceding
ti-. ,,r,., olstice (about December 21st), and to
I. t- r. r- during the seven days directly follow-
i- i..i.:1 it was a popular superstition that the
:.:., i.',..d calm and tranquil while they
i .::.l il.:. young. And, therefore, these four-
teen days were called "halcyon
/ days," or days of calm, pleasant
Weather. On this account the an-
cients regarded the halcyon as a
symbol of tranquillity, and because
it lived near the water it was conse-
crated to Thetis, a sea-nymph. The
bird about which such wonderful

stories were told was
probably nothing more
than the common king-
fisher of Europe (Alcede
ispida), the habits of
which are very much
like those of the belted
New Guinea and some

of the neighboring isl-
ands are the home of
several beautiful and curious species, among which
are the exquisitely colored long-tailed kingfishers,
rivaling in their brilliant plumage even the hum-
ming-birds themselves, while the "laughing king-
fisher"(Alcedogigoas), quite frequently seen in men-
ageries, is a native of Australia. The last named
is the largest of all, and, from its harsh, chattering
cry, is commonly known by the name of "laugh-
ing jackass." All of these feed less upon fish
than the belted kingfisher, and include in their
bill of fare snails, reptiles, beetles, and insects.





\ N






RS. TINKHAM had been awakened
by the boys leaving the house, and
much of the noise of the conflict
had reached her ears. She was up
and dressed, with lamp lighted,
waiting in extreme anxiety, when
Rupert came running into the house.
He was breathless with haste and excite-
ment. Before he could tell his news, she
knew it was good news.
"We've beat' em off!" he panted. "They
've hurt the dam a little. But we don't care for
that. We've got one prisoner, -Buzrow, -the
worst rowdy of 'em all "
"Anybody hurt?" was the widow's anxious

"Nobody on our side; only one stone glanced
from a limb and hit me on the leg. But I did n't
mind it a bit! Rod and I were in the tree, and we
let 'em have about a bushel of stones. Nearly all
they fired at us came too low; we could hear 'em
strike the trunk under us, or thump against the
And your prisoner ?"
Mart caught him by the lasso over his neck.
He and Lute got him into the mill, and kept him
well choked till he gave up. Then he begged like
a good fellow; but they would i't let him off.
And what do you think we found in his hat, after
we got the lantern lit? A sponge as big as your
head, such as they use for sopping out leaky boats !
His hat had dropped off on the platform, where
Rocket found it."
Have the rest gone away? asked the mother.
"We don't know. They may come around

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


-- --------\\- ---



again, and try to rescue Buzrow. I must hurry
back, to help fight 'em if they do. The boys are
on the lookout; but they told me to run in and
tell you we 're all safe. Mart has got his lasso
ready to catch another Argonaut, if they give him
a chance."
Are any of their side hurt? "
"I hope so! Buzrow got a jolly choking, any
way. And Rocket thrashed two with a bean-pole.
And I '11 bet our stones hit a few heads and shoul-
ders! Oh, I tell you, it's the greatest fun you
ever saw! "
And before she could ask any more questions,
the wild youngster rushed out again.
Meanwhile, the lantern was placed on the plat-
form, and lighted lamps were set in the windows
of the threatened tide-mill, to shine up and down
the river.
"We may as well let folks know we are at
home and prepared to receive company," said
This bold course disconcerted the Argonauts,
who were even then planning an assault, with the
view of carrying off the captive. Still they did not
give him up; but instead of making a fierce onset,
they advanced within range of the misty rays, as
if for a parley. Rush, posted in shadow, saw them
coming up the Tammoset shore. Mart went out
promptly and demanded what they wanted.
"We want the fellow you 've got there in the
mill," said Ned Lufford, halting at a safe distance,
a little in advance of his comrades.
"You make a rather cheeky request," Mart
replied. "We came honestly by him,-as the
woman said when she found a frog in the milk,-
and we mean to keep him. Not that we really care
any more for him than the woman did for the frog;
but she thought he would do to show to the
If you wont give him up peaceably," said Luf-
ford, "we will break in the mill and take him by
"That's a trick you're quite welcome to try,"
Mart answered, his drawl sounding oddly in con-
trast with the Argonaut's blustering tone. We've
handled your chap as tenderly as a cat carries her
kittens, so far; but attempt to break doors, and
you 'll wake up in a hospital and find something
else broken. Meanwhile, you are respectfully
informed that we have room for three or four more
quiet and well-behaved prisoners, and can take 'em,
too, if as many of you should care to set foot on
our premises "
Mart stood where a lamp at the window shone
upon his shoulder and side, and the Argonauts
could see that he held something like a coil of
stout cord in his left hand. The mysterious man-

ner of Buzrow's headlong plunge into the mill
required no further explanation.
Do you want anything more ?" Mart asked,
after they had remained a few moments in con-
sultation. If not, excuse me if I don't waste
any more time in the mere forms of, politeness."
He went back into the mill, and, after a little
delay, the Argonauts disappeared behind a clump
of willows.
They still lingered near their boat, and presently
had the satisfaction of seeing him and Lute come
out on the platform, get down into the river, and
with stakes and boards proceed to repair the dam
by the light of the lantern.
It was soon patched. Then the flash-boards
were set, and the water being shut back, the Tink-
hams, lantern in hand, appeared to be looking for
something in the draining bed of the stream.
At the same time, the boat was becoming hope-
lessly grounded.
I can't stand this any longer exclaimed
George Hawkins.
Nor I! said Frank Veals.
And yet the Argonauts did stand it long enough
to see the brothers pick up two axes and a crow-
bar and heave them in at the mill door.
"We ought to have swooped in and stopped
that! said Ned Lufford.
And now that it was too late, he did make a
feeble movement toward the mill, followed by his
comrades. Mart turned and faced them, in the
halo made by the lantern in the drizzling rain.
Stop there! and tell me what you want !"
Hawkins stopped, and finding himself in an
awkward position, said:
Take out your flash-boards and give us water,
so we can float our boat."
That's an humble and not very unreasonable
request," Mart replied. "We've taken out our
flash-boards for you, with all the good nature in the
world, on various occasions. Very likely we shall
do it again, but not at this hour of the night, now
or any time. We'll give you water, though, in
another way."
He had reentered the mill, and the humble
petitioners were wondering what he meant, when
the water-wheel began to splash and turn, and a
scanty stream came gurgling down toward the
stranded boat.
The mill is going !" said the astonished Argo-
It was going, indeed, and it continued to go
during the remainder of the night; the Tink-
hams, with characteristic "impudence" (the local
newspaper's word), having resolved to make the
most of their time while guarding their premises
and their prisoner.




Buzrow, seated on the floor with his back against
Lute's work-bench, to which he was fast bound,
had an excellent opportunity of seeing how ex-
tremely impudent they were.
If you 're b-b-bright," Lute remarked to him
pleasantly, "you may pick up a little of our trade.
It's a very good trade when it is n't interf-f-fered
Buzrow, in his sullen rage, did not look as if he
cared to pick up anything but himself just then, or
to interfere with anybody's trade in future.
The younger boys kept their mother informed
of what was going on, and it was not long before
they announced that they had heard the Argonauts
dragging their boat away down the river. Balch
had gone off with his team long before.
In fact, no rescue was attempted,-a wise deter-
mination, as Buzrow himself was obliged to admit
afterward, having seen how dangerous it would
have been to attack the brothers in their own mill.
Daylight came, the tide turned, the mill stopped,
the lights were extinguished, and the Tinkhams
had not only their dam in good repair, but some
useful work and a prisoner to show, as a reward for
their trouble.
It seemed a great triumph. Yet the sequel must
be told.



AFTER congratulations and rejoicings, and a
deliberate breakfast, Mart and Rush set off in a
slow, dull rain to march the cow-smiter's son (his
hands still tied behind him) to Tammoset village
and the house of Judge Hanks.
Early and rainy as it was, they had a lively fol-
lowing of youngsters at their heels before they
reached the door; and Buzrow, who was only too
well known to them as a Dempford boaster, was
greeted with, "Turn up your cuffs "Scratch
yer nose, Milt (the nose, by the way, was battle-
smeared) What be ye goin' to do with them two
chaps? "Does your mother know? and other
like soothing remarks.
Judge Hanks was a conscientious justice of the
peace; yet he, too, was under the influence of the
popular prejudice against the dam. He was much
disturbed when called from his breakfast-table into
his office-room and informed of his visitors' busi-
ness. But he could not refuse to hear the com-
plaint against Buzrow.
Untie his hands first," he said. Proceed in
the proper way."
"If we catch a marauder destroying our prop-
erty in the middle of the night, is n't the proper

way to tie him and take him before the nearest
magistrate ? Mart inquired.
"You have a right to capture him," Judge
Hanks replied, "but you have no right to hold
him a prisoner any longer than is necessary. Untie
him !"
I hate to do it about as badly as the old miser
hated to buy his wife shoes," Mart dryly remarked;
"but we '11 have everything proper, Judge."
Manifestly, the knots were not made to untie,
and he used his knife. He then made his formal
complaint, while Buzrow stood by, gloomily rubbing
his wrists.
Whereabouts in the river do you say he was ?"
Judge Hanks stopped writing, to inquire.
"Not far from the middle, but I should think a
little nearer the Tammoset side," Mart answered.
"Are you sure? "
Well, I 'm not positive as to that. I only know
he came to our side pretty quick after he was
noosed! "
Buzrow, being asked if he wished to make any
statement, began with the old hackneyed denuncia-
tion of the obstruction in the river. The judge in-
terrupted him.
On which side of the center of the river were
you? I wish to know "-this was spoken very
significantly which town the offense was com-
mitted in. Was it Tammoset or Dempford?"
Buzrow took the hint. In Dempford," he an-
swered, stoutly.
Could he swear it? He could swear it. Judge
Hanks then said:
"The complainant is uncertain which town the
offense was committed in, but thinks it was in
Tammoset. The defendant is positive it was in
Dempford. Dempford being in another judicial
district, this Court has no authority in the case. It
is accordingly dismissed."
Is this-what you call-the proper thing,
Judge ? Mart asked. Aint it a funny kind of
law? "
How so ? said the judge, severely.
"Why," Mart explained, "if it could be proved
he did the act with one foot in Tammoset and the
other in Dempford,"-he illustrated his point by
setting two fingers astride a crack in the judge's
table,-" then, I suppose, you would have jurisdic-
tion over one leg,"-lifting a finger,-" while the
Dempford court would have jurisdiction over the
other leg,"- comically crooking up finger number
two. Funny kind of law, Judge, I should say !"
Even the Court had to smile, and there was a
broad grin on the blood-smeared Buzrow counte-
nance, as the bearer, who had, perhaps, the best
reason to laugh of anybody, walked out of the door
a free man.


The Tinkhams had still further experience of the
curiosities of the law when, complaint having been
duly made before a Dempford magistrate, warrant
issued, and offender arrested, they confronted him
on the evening set for his examination.
Lawyer Snow, employed by Buzrow, cross-ex-
amined Mart.
Which side of the river was he on when you
saw and captured him ? "
Very near the center," said Mart; "but he
says he was on the Dempford side."

4' ,' N,,.

But it turned out that Buzrow did not wish to
swear at all, now that he was in a Dempford court
of justice. Consequently, as there was no evidence
that he had committed any offense in that town
(the Tinkhams being unable to summon any of
his companions as witnesses), the case was again
Yet the brothers enjoyed a moral, if not a legal,
triumph. Mart had an opportunity to describe
in open court, in the presence of spectators, the
manner in which Buzrow was lassoed and bound,

^Jfc.^iLE-. _^ -^''' ..7',- Jw . -'-^.^-* ^_^^- s J^^ fe' ',


"No matter what he says. I want to know what
you say."
He swore before Judge Hanks-- "
"I don't care what he swore before Judge
Hanks Which side of the center of the river do
you say he was on ? "
"I am willing to take his word in this matter,"
said Mart, "though, perhaps, I would n't in any-
thing else."
"We want your word, and no hearsay evidence,"
said the lawyer. Did n't you swear, in your com-
plaint made to Judge Hanks, that you thought
the defendant was nearer the Tammoset than the
Dempford shore? Did you or did you not? "
I did," said Mart. "But he swore- "
"No matter what he swore there He will have
a chance to swear here, if he wishes to."

how the sponge was found in his hat, and how he
was marched into Tammoset village that rainy
morning; which, with other particulars, related in
the oldest brother's droll way, covered with ridi-
cule the braggart Buzrow, and did not greatly help
the cause of the Argonauts.
One point especially served to extinguish the
boaster's pretensions.
I suppose I ought to have been afraid of his
fists," Mart said, incidentally, describing the capt-
ure ; "for I had heard they were like his father's,
and that his father once knocked down- "
"Never mind about that!" broke in Lawyer
Snow, amidst an uproar of laughter.
Mart had said enough. Buzrow never liked to
hear the feat of the paternal fist alluded to after




Seeing that the public enjoyed a good laugh at
the burly pretender, the local editor had the tact
to print a pretty full report of the trial, which now
lies before me, filling a page and a half of Mart's
The same number of the paper contained an
advertisement of articles found by the Tinkham
brothers :
"The boat-sponge Mr. Buzrow carried in his hat. Left on the
"Two axes and a crowbar, picked up in the river. One ax
badly damaged.
"Also a log-chain, found locked about the mud-sill. In good
"All which the owners can have by calling at the Tinkhami
Brothers' mill, proving property, and paying for this advertisement."

Needless to say, the articles were never called



AND now the dam got into politics. Crowbar
and log-chain measures had so far failed. The
injunction business had fallen through. Strenuous
but futile efforts had likewise been made, as the
brothers learned, to have it indicted as a nuisance
by a grand jury.
So now, Tammoset and Dempford were clamor-
ing to have it abolished by statute !
The next election of representatives to the State
legislature was to turn upon this important ques-
tion. All other issues were to be sunk, and no
candidates countenanced who were not pledged to
"some measure for promoting the free navigation
of our beautiful river."
"An act defining navigable streams in terms
broad enough to cover our beloved Tammoset is
what we demand, and what we are bound to have.
Look to it, voters of Tammoset and Dempford!
Who shall carry our banner the coming year?"
The local newspaper furnished a good many
paragraphs of this sort, which the Tinkham
brothers read with amusement and cut out for
their scrap-book.
And the tide-mill was still going !
Business was good. The pin-wheels, rocket-
sticks, and other wooden fixtures were finished
and delivered to Cole & Company, to be manu-
factured into fireworks for the Glorious Fourth."
From dolls' carriages, the brothers advanced to
baby carriages; and Lute was inventing an im-
proved seed-sower, of which he got a hint while
watching the farmers at their work.
The boat was also completed and launched;
and on a still evening, just at sunset, Letty, with
Mart and Rush and Rupe, made a trial trip in it
VOL. X.-52.

on the lake. They floated under the overhanging
trees; they landed to pick ferns and wild flow-
ers; even Letty tried her hand at the oars; and
all agreed that no better boat ever sailed on a
lovelier sheet of water.
And now, in the fine June weather, the widow
spent many an hour with Letty in the willow-tree,
and enjoyed more than one enchanting row, at
sundown, on river and lake.
The Tinkhams were beginning to be respected.
Mrs. Tinkham went to church in her wheeled
chair, with Lute and Letty, and the minister
called on her.
"Perhaps he expected to convert you from the
evil of your ways in maintaining a d-d-dam," said
But the conversion was on the other side. I
found her a remarkably intelligent, fine-spirited
woman," the parson was reported as saying. "As
for the mill question, she is in the right from her
point of view. She has a very interesting family."
Then the wife of a prominent physician called.
" Partly in the way of business, I suppose," Mrs.
Tinkham smilingly explained to her children.
"We are naturally looked upon as the doctor's
possible patients."
The mill troubles had kept the younger children
from entering school. But since the rebuilding of
the dam-admired as a heroic feat even by its ene-
mies-the acquaintance of Rupe and Rod had
been sought by neighboring boys not in the club.
Their popularity now extended even to Tammoset
village, where the capture of Buzrow melted many
Then what a day it was when Tilly Loring came
up from Dempford in a boat, at flood tide, with
three other girls, stopped at the mill, and inquired
of Rush-who went out to them, with joyful trepi-
dation-if Letty was at home !
Letty was at home. He made the boat fast to
the platform, and steadied it while they got out.
And what a happy, foolish, blushing boy he was,
in his paper cap, with paint on his hands, which
he awkwardly wiped on his workman's frock, and
yet did not dare offer, by way of help, to one of
those light-footed, disembarking girls!
He was not afraid of Miss Loring. Oh, no!
Nor of her friend Sarah Ball, whom he had seen
with her once or twice in the city. But there was
something about the other two girls which made
him almost think they regarded him as a joke.
A dazzling vision of one of them had appeared to
him before in that old mill. How well he remem-
bered the charming Syl Bartland, who had brought
her brother's message The other was her com-
panion of that day, whom he did not see, and who
was so piqued at having missed seeing him.



If Rush had known how much they had talked
of him and his brothers and their exploits, and how
nervously eager, yet half afraid, Miss Mollie Kent
had been to meet him, he would have guessed why
they looked so amusingly conscious of hidden fun,
and he, too, would have wanted to laugh.
Tilly Loring took her companions up the path

made,-merely to make him talk for Mollie Kent,
he half believed.
Then some of Lute's toys attracted attention,
one especially which he was at work on at the
He called it a water-glass. It was like a big
tunnel, two feet long, except that the smaller end

over the bank, and then what
little screams and kisses and
joyful exclamations there
were, as Letty met them at
the door !
They were not gone long.
They could stay but five min-
utes, they said. But Letty
would not let them off so.
She took them to the seats
in the willow-tree, after they
left the house ; and the
charm of the place or of their
own society was such, that
there they remained for at
least half an hour longer,
making a picture to the eyes
and music to the ears of the
boys behind the open win-
dows of the mill.
The mill was not going,
and if the brothers had stop-
ped hammering they might
have heard every word that
was said. They were, indeed,
tempted to listen, when the
talk grew lively and loud on
the subject of the Argonauts
and the dam.
"Well, I vow !" exclaimed
Lute, that sister of the
late c-c-commodore actually
stands up for 'em "






Was it she who said the most of 'em are good
fellows and want only what is right? Mart asked.
" Well! that may be so, but they've an odd way
of showing it."
Rush wouldn't believe it was Miss Bartland who
said it. But Lute was sure.
The r-r-rest," he insisted, "are all on our
side. I 'm confident they are. I g-g-guess Tilly
has talked 'em over."
At length, the girls left the tree, and Letty took
them into the mill to appeal to her brothers on
some point in dispute and to show where Buzrow
had been caught.
Once in the mill, they became interested in
other things. Rush was painting a doll's car-
riage; and Syl Bartland, with the prettiest arch
smile, asked him to explain how the wheels were

I A V. E

w -_
^s- *-^s, --


:-L i_ _-- .? .
f... ^^ *. !.

" :,i: I
I ,r '*' ,"

-' 7 ', '-'
...,Y ; ^ '. ,.- ,.. '"

'' 1

,l l I v ] l I


was shaped to fit a pair of eyes, and in the large
end a disk of plain glass was fitted. On one side
was a handle.
It was not exactly a t-t-toy, he said, and he was
not making it to sell. It was for use in examining
objects beneath the surface of the water.
Plunge the glass below the r-r-ripples and re-
flections," he explained, "then shut out the light
from this other end as you look in, and you '11 be
ast-t-tonished to find how distinctly you can see
objects at the b-b-bottom, even of a deep pond."
"It's nothing but a toy, after all," said Syl
Bartland. I did n't know young men cared for
toys !"
She laughed. Lute smiled behind his spectacles,
and said, simply, P-p-perhaps! not deeming it
expedient to explain further what the toy was for.







He had lately hung a little bell under his work-
bench, and had connected with it a copper wire run-
ning down under the mill floor, and extending the
whole length of the mud-sill, in such a way that any
tampering with the foundations of the dam would
instantly give a signal tinkle. The water-glass
was designed for the occasional rapid examination
of this wire, to see that it remained in place.
A toy, indeed But whether it was to prove use-
ful or not in providing against the machinations of
the Argonauts, it was destined soon to serve a
more serious purpose, little suspected now by the
laughing Syl, or even by Lute himself.
The brothers, especially Lute and Rush, were
a little nervous under the fire of the visitors' bright
eyes. But their diffidence became them well; they
could hardly have appeared to better advantage in
swallow-tail coats, at a ball, than they did there in
the mill, with their simple, modest manners, and in
their working-day clothes. What a quaint, unpre-
tending, noble fellow was Mart! Where was there
another boy of seventeen so frank, fresh-looking,
and sensible as Rush? And Lute; how earnest,
sympathetic, and interesting, with his delightful
stammer! How proud Letty was of them all!
And these," said Tilly Loring, when once
more afloat with her three companions, returning
to Dempford with the ebb, "these are the mean,
obstinate men who take all the water for their fac-
tory and don't leave any for the boats Oh, what
a goose I was! "
But you must admit," Syl Bartland replied,
"that sometimes when it is low water, they do shut
it off so there is very little left, and that the dam
is in the way! "
I don't care if it is! cried Mollie Kent, merrily,
as with gloved hand she pulled her oar. I hope
they '11 keep it; and I think it will be fun to come
up some time, just we girls, and make them pull
up their flash-boards for us Will you ? "
"0 Mollie! Mollie! you are incorrigible!"
said Syl. But she, too, looked as if she thought
it would be fun.



HAVING seen the girls off, Mart went straight
to his work-bench and pulled a folded bit of paper
out of a crack.
What's that ? cried Rush. Where did it
come from? "
It came from a pretty pair of fingers," Mart
answered. I'm going to see what it is."
He unfolded the paper and read these words,
penciled in a pretty, school-girl hand:

In strictest confidence. Look out for your dam on the night of
the Fourth."
He showed it to Lute and Rush, who read it
with puzzled surprise, wondering whether it were
meant for a serious warning or a joke.
"Which pair of p-p-pretty fingers left it?"
Lute asked. I think it was that Miss Kent, and
she is a little b-b-bundle of mischief! "
No, it was n't Miss Kent."
It could n't be that demure Sarah Ball ex-
claimed Rush. Mart shook his head. Nor
Tilly? "
Nor Tilly Guess again."
"There's only one more guess, and that's
absurd. Miss Bartland defends the Argonauts;
and if she left it, why," Rush exclaimed, then
I 'm sure it's a joke "
She left it," replied Mart; "and if you had
seen the look she gave me at the time, you would
be as sure as I am that it's no joke at all."
"She's d-d-deep commented Lute, reading
again the words of warning.
"Anyhow," said Mart, she's no light feather
of a girl, to be blown this way and that in her opin-
ions by the people she happens to be with. To
tell the truth, I thought all the more of her for
standing up a little stiffly for the Argonauts, when
Letty and Tilly were abusing 'em."
"Well, I forgive her!" said Rush, with a
radiant look at the billet. "We '11 act as if it
was no joke, anyway! They must n't catch us
napping on the night of the Fourth."
Nor any night, for that m-m-matter. I 've
fancied all along they were getting ready for
something sudden and t-t-tremendous," said Lute.
"I 've an idea "
Something new ? said Mart.
"R-r-rather new. I've been c-c-considering it.
There's that old pump-log we got with Dushee's
rubbish. We can make a c-c-cannon of it."
"A cannon exclaimed Rush. How so?
What for ? "
"Plug one end; put iron b-b-bands around the
butt. Then load with sand, to sweep the d-d-dam,
in case of any v-v-very sudden attack."
Lute said Rush, almost dancing with
delight. "We'll get it all ready, and fire it off
on the Fourth to try it "
"Are n't you afraid you'll hurt some of the
Argonauts, or frighten their horses ? said Mart,
with drawling seriousness; but there was a twinkle
in his eye which boded danger to marauders.
"You're a reckless fellow, Lute! Let's go and
look at your log."
It was, indeed, no false word of warning which
the brothers had received. This time, the little
commodore had taken the matter in charge; he



had consulted a mining engineer, and with his
help had formed a plan which could hardly fail to
There was to be no stealthy attempt at carrying
it out. On the contrary, the Argonauts were to come
down the river in a fleet of boats on the night of
the Fourth, making a great noise of singing and
cheering and laughter and splashing of oars;
under cover of which, quick and precise prep-
aration was to be made by scientific hands for
blowing up the dam.
That's the way to do it! said Web Foote to
the committee on obstructions, flinging back his
That's the way to do it! one of the said com-
mittee repeated to his friend Lew Bartland, one
evening, at the late commodore's home,-"in
strictest confidence," as he declared.
Lew was not pleased with the plot, yet felt him-
self in honor bound not to divulge it. But a part
of the conversation had been accidentally overheard
by one who had fewer scruples.
Sylvia had learned of her brother to respect the
attitude of the mill-owners. And though she
believed the Argonauts had a right to the river,
she was equally sure that in 'their manner of

enforcing that right they had put themselves out-
rageously in the wrong. She had not wished to
hear the disclosure of their latest plot; she had
tried to shut her ears against it. But she had been
compelled to listen to it, and it had filled her with
"Can't they carry on their little war against
those boys -fifty against five," she said to herself;
(for the club was now so large)-" without getting
help from professional men outside ? I'm ashamed
of them! "
Then came the opportunity to go up the river
with her friends; and sitting with them in the
willow-tree, hearing Letty's eloquent story of her
brothers' wrongs, the impulse seized her to scribble
those words of warning on the blank leaf of a
letter; "in strictest confidence," quoting the
Argonautic phrase. She trembled afterward to
think what she had done. But how could she be
sorry ?
This was on the first. By the fourth, arrange-
ments on both sides, for attack and defense, were
as complete as they could be made, while the
Tinkhams remained ignorant of the details of the
plot, and the Argonauts knew nothing of the alarm-
wire and the wooden cannon loaded with sand.

(To be concluded.)



THE Mayfair household were in a state of great
commotion. It was the morning of the first Mon-
day in September, and the day when school was
to begin, after the long summer vacation.
The children had been in high glee half an hour
before. Their tongues had made a perfect Babel
of the house since their early waking; school-mates
had been talked about, school-seats, school-desks,
school-satchels, and school-games; and when the
last shoe had been buttoned, the last bow tied, they
simultaneously uttered the word "school-books "
and rushed in a body to the room where, late in
June, they had left their manuals in neatly ar-
ranged rows. They stopped short in their merry
tumble over each other; for one instant there
was ominous silence; then a variously pitched wail
broke forth, for the shelves which should have held
their books confronted them with staring emptiness.
Their helplessness and indignation took expres-
sion according to their peculiar characters. Ned

kicked the door-panel, and banged with his pudgy
fists till the sound reechoed through the house.
Mabel began to take the starch out of her clean
white apron with her tears. Georgie lay prone on
the floor in sullen silence, and Mollie rushed about
exclaiming in shrill, angry tones:
"It's that good-for-nothing Roxie again I'll
just shake her, I will! "
Mamma, followed by three-year old baby Roxie,
came up in haste to see what dreadful disturbance
had arisen among her little folk. At sight of the
little toddler, the wrath of the elder children
seemed, if possible, to increase.
"We can't go to school now, you naughty little
thing! shouted Ned; and Mollie's threatening
" Tell us where they are Tell us where they are "
made the generally petted baby-sister run and
hide for protection in the mother's skirts.
Plainly, Roxie was the offender. But Mamma
sought to adjust matters, and said calmly:




"Roxie, where are the books? Think care-
fully, and tell us "
But the little quivering lips only stammered:
"Woxie has n't me-mem-ber!" and all knew at
once that the only thing to be done was to search
and search until the missing books were found.
So, with Mamma leading, the children filed out
gloomily and began to look in all directions. Up-
stairs and down-stairs they went, Papa and aunties
joining in the general hunt as the case grew more
mysterious. All the rooms were gone through;
all the passage-ways investigated ;-little Roxie
accompanying and seeming to enjoy it all, as if it
were some game like Hunt the thimble." But
would the books be found
in time for school! It
grew near the time when .
the children should be
off, and still the search
was unsuccessful. ---- -
Roxie had mislaid books -
before; had been talked
to, and even mildly pun-
ished for it. Lest you
should think she did it
maliciously, we will explain
for her., F'
Almost every child has a
mania for playing school- l
teacher, after once begin- -
ning to attend school; ''_
and Roxie had been seized r.'V -
with this mania early. She --
had never yet been in a -
school-room, nor did she
know a single letter of the
alphabet. All her conception of study, gathered
from watching her brothers and sisters, consisted
in holding a book in her lap, lowering her face close
over it, and swaying her little body back and forth
with a buzzing accompaniment of lips and voice that
was very comical to witness. She had a perfect
craze for books at the time of our story; and when
the children were out at play their methodically
arranged piles of school-books were often ruth-
lessly mixed and scattered, so that when they were
again wanted the woful owners went complaining
to Mamma over Little Mischiefs doings. Some-
times the missing books were found lying open on
different chairs, each of which Roxie had peopled
with a scholar; sometimes distributed in the same
way over the steps of the hall or cellar stairs, until
there were fears that some one would be danger-
ously hurt by stumbling over them.
But where could she have been teaching last?
Where could the missing books be, this morning?
The more hopeless the search became, the more

animated the searchers grew. School hour came
and passed, and the excited children exclaimed
that they never would forgive Roxie for this
crowning piece of mischief.
Papa, who also was detained from his office, finally
took the little culprit aside, lifted her on his knee,
and tried to help her recollect what seemed to have
slipped out of her memory altogether. His effort
was in vain. Little Roxie felt the importance of
the occasion, and her position as the central figure,
and, giving her imagination loose rein, named
most impossible places: "Newu 'Or/k" (a hundred
miles away); "At Auntie Em's" (a day's ride in
the country); and such like answers. Every part


of the house and yard had been searched. The
family stood waiting upon every chance word that
fell from the child's lips, if possibly any one cf
them might give a clew; for the books had to be
found; the children would have to go to school in
the afternoon. Some one suggested the barn, and
a rush thither ensued. A row of eggs in regular
order showed that Roxie had been drilling scholars
there; but a thorough search afforded no trace of
the books.
It was getting near the dinner-hour by this time,
and Mamma, pausing in the search to give orders
to Bridget, chanced to mention "squashes" as
among the things to be prepared for the meal.
But at the sound of the word, Roxie instantly flew
toward the garden, exclaiming, "My skosk! JMy
boofil skosli /" They hardly knew why they fol-
lowed her, for squashes had no association with
books; but, reaching the plot in the garden,
each and every one of them was convulsed with


The search for the books was over.
The artist auntie begged that Roxie's garden
school should be left undisturbed till the books
were needed for the afternoon; and, hurrying
to the house, she brought camp-stool, drawing
materials, and an umbrella. At the dinner table
she presented, for the amusement and appre-
ciation of all, a sketch of Roxie's squash class,
just as she had left it. The children all voted it

should be sent at once to ST. NICHOLAS, and so
here it is.
As for little Roxie, she esteemed herself a hero-
ine instead of a baby in disgrace. And she still
delights to point out in the picture, for Mamma's
benefit, the skoshh" that would n't study, the
one that grew sleepy and would n't stand straight,
the one that would whisper, and the good one
that studied so hard.



IT was a dull, dark day, and a short one. The
sun went down behind the hills early, leaving a
little cottage, where an old woman sat knitting,
even more dismal and dark than it had been before.
It was not much better than a hut, with two or three
rooms, and was wretchedly old and worn out; and
the old woman who lived in it was quite as forlorn.
She was a bent, withered, wrinkled dame, too
mean and miserly to keep herself comfortable.
She had money, but it was hidden away in old
stockings, and they were hidden in out-of-the-way
places, in crevices and crannies, under old broken
bowls, or between the layers of her rickety bed.
The house was tumbling down for want of repair;
there was not a chair nor a table in it that did not
need a leg; the shelf for dishes had not a cup that
was not cracked nor a plate without a nip out of
it. The pitchers all had broken noses, the pails
had no handles, the tea-pot was without a spout,
and the iron kettles were rusty and leaky. But
this did not matter, for no one ever shared the old
dame's crusts, and even beggars thought the place
too.ill-looking to stop there and ask alms. The
neighbors, and none were very near, never crossed
her threshold; the only live thing in the hutbesides
herself was the cat. Had it not been for the many
mice and an occasional squirrel, even the cat could
not have lived there, for she was never fed by the
old woman, whose own food was of the plainest,
coarsest kind. Once a week, she hobbled into the
town for a little tea, a bit of meat, and a small
pail of flour. Upon this very same dark, dismal
day, she had bought her supplies, and had come
home very weary; so she put a stick on the fire,
hung the kettle over it, and took up an unfinished
stocking to knit till the water should boil.
Blacker and blacker grew the sky, and the rising

wind made the old shutters creak and the old boards
tremble. Dry leaves whirled in the air, but they
were the only moving things on the road.
Click, click, went the old dame's needles, for she
was used to knitting in the dark, and would not
have lighted a candle for the world: such a useless
expense as that; no, indeed !
The cat yawned and stretched herself by the
scanty blaze on the hearth, then drew up and sat
in dignified silence. She seemed to be listening.
There certainly was a sound not made by the
wind! It was not unlike the sobbing of a child.
It came nearer, then stopped, and a little knock
was heard on the door.
The dame thought she must have been dream-
ing; no one ever knocked at that door, so she went
on knitting,- clickety click, clickety click. The cat
opened her eyes wider and gave a little flourish of
her tail.
Knock, knock! There it was again! So the
dame shuffled over to the door, and, poking out
her head, cried:
Who's there?"
Me, ma'am," said a tiny voice.
"And what do you want ?"
I 'n so hungry."
This is no place to come for food; I have n't
enough for myself."
But I am very tired."
"So am I." And with that the old woman
banged the door and came back to the fire.
The sobbing began again, and the wind muttered
and growled in the chimney and moaned about
the eaves. The cat's eyes grew greener, and her
tail lashed about. She drew herself up even more
than before; and then, to the dame's utter sur-
prise, the cat said:




"You have made a great mistake."
How so ?" returned the dame, dropping the
knitting, and peering over her glasses, as if it was
their fault she had not heard aright.
You have turned away peace and plenty from
your door," said the cat, very grandly.
Pooh, pooh! said the old woman.
I tell you again, you will rue it," said the cat.
Are you sure ? asked the dame, impressed by
the cat's dignified and positive manner.
"Quite sure," said the cat; "she would have
brought you GOLD."
That magic word made the dame start.
"Who would have brought me gold?" she
The child."
Who is she? "
"No matter," said the cat.
Is it too late to call her back? inquired the
old woman anxiously, and shuffling again toward
the door.
"Try," said the cat.
The dame opened the door, but the night was
too dark to see anything. In spite of her deafness,
however, she thought she heard a cry. She groped
her way in its direction, and there, crouching under
a corner of the rickety old fence, was the self-
same child.
Come with me," said the dame; and the child
arose and followed her.
When they had come back to the house, they
found the cat curled up in a heap, and apparently
asleep. The dame muttered angrily about being
so foolish as to listen to what a cat said. But just
then she heard a low Take care "
It could have come only from the cat, for the
child was warming its poor little hands before the
tiny blaze, and the kettle had begun to sing.
Then the old woman took out a candle, lighted
it, and surveyed the child.
She was a little creature, thin, and half-starved
looking, but her eyes were of the soft blue of wild
violets, and her hair was yellow as sunshine.
What is your name? demanded the dame,
peering at the little girl.
Theodora, or 'Dora' as Mamma called me."
Where is your mother? "
In heaven."
"And you: where did you come from ; where
are you going? "
I 'm trying to find Mamma."
Nothing more could the old woman draw from
the sobbing little creature. But her old, withered
heart began to pain her. Some dim, far-off recol-
lection stirred a faint feeling of pity; something
in the child's words and wistfulness roused the old
dame to warm the little feet and bathe the little

face, and give the child a taste of food and drink,
and place her beneath the warm bed-clothes.
The dame rose early next day, and made a
fire while the child still slept; and as she was
blowing the embers, she was sure the cat, who was
stretching herself in the chimney-corner, said:
Be kind Be careful! "
When the child awoke and had risen, she fell
upon her knees and prayed; and the old dame,
listening, felt a tear trickle down the wrinkles and
fall upon her hand. At once she went to the cup-
board and cut a thick slice of bread; and then
she watched the child eat it, with a new sensation
of pleasure. But the little one, having eaten, came
and kissed her, and the poor old woman sat down
and cried; for no human being had so much as
spoken a kind word to her in years. Then little
Dora seemed so sorry, that the old woman dried
her tears and began the household work; but
Dora begged so hard to do a share, and was so
active and handy, that the old dame just sat down
and simply watched her.
Hither and thither went the little girl, like a busy
domestic fairy. She swept the room, she polished
the candlestick, she wiped the table, and folded
the cloth; she fed the cat, and the dame said
never a word in objection; she filled the kettle
and replenished the fire, and then she sat down
and asked for some knitting. It took the dame's
misty eyes a long time to find extra needles and
yarn; but when she saw how fast Dora's little
fingers made the yarn spin out, and how swiftly
and deftly the stocking grew, she determined to
go to the village, that very day, and get some more
wool to knit with.
This was a wonderful thing for the dame to do,
and, more wonderful still, she sought for one of
the old stockings in which she had hid the money,
and, taking out a goodly coin, she put it in her
pocket and departed.
Never had the dame known the sun to shine so
brightly, or her old limbs to feel so light and agile.
She laughed at the squirrels that seemed to chatter
at her from the tree tops, and she trotted on, with
a new, strange feeling underneath her kerchief.
In the village, she bought the yarn, and the shop-
woman gazed in surprise at the change in her face:
where had been a gloomy frown was now a merry
Then the old woman bought some pretty blue
stuff and a ribbon to match; and a poulterer
opened his eyes when she asked the price of a
pair of fowls, and paid for them on the spot,-real
live rooster and hen. And she tied them by the
legs, swung them over her arm, and left the village.
As she neared the hut, she almost feared to enter.
What if Dora had gone ? What if some one had-


come and lured the child away? Where, then,
would have been the use of all this expenditure ?
But Dora had not gone. At the door, with open
arms, and eager face all sunny with smiles, stood
the child, and the cat beside her.
They entered the house, and then Dora laughed
and danced and clapped her hands to see the old
dame stare; for the'little hut seemed turned into
a bower. Boughs and branches of green hid the
once bare walls and the broken places; a bright fire
burned on the hearth; the table was set with its
homely appointments, but it had also a pitcher
filled with purple asters and bright red leaves;
a nice little loaf of bread was on the table, too;
the floor had been swept, and the kettle sang a
merry welcome.
':Where did you get the loaf, child?" asked
the old woman.
"I made it, Granny, all by myself, and baked
it in the ashes.
"' Oh I can bake, and I can brew, and I can fill the kettle too,' "
sang Dora, dancing about, and holding up her
little skirts; then, catching up the cat, she romped
about till the old dame shook with laughter.
But when the cock and hen were put upon the
floor, and their legs untied, Dora was wild with
delight. And away she went to look for something
to make a house for their comfort. Soon she re-
turned with an old box she had seen out-of-doors,
This will do nicely. Now we will have fresh
eggs every day I will keep them in this, till
you get somebody to make a nice chicken-coop,
Granny; and somebody, too, must come with a
hammer and nails and mend things up for us;
and we will make a rag carpet, and you shall have
a new bed. Oh, it will be so nice "
But Granny looked grave and shook her head ;
when the cat suddenly drew up and looked very
solemn, and Granny was sure she heard a low
Take care "
But Dora did not hear. She only danced up to
the old woman and kissed her, took off her shawl
and folded it, and, putting some tea to draw, made
" Granny sit still by the fire and eat a bit of the
little loaf.
The child's kiss again had a strange effect upon
the dame; it brought tears to the old eyes, and
made her willing to do just as Dora wished.
Then the blue stuff for Dora's dress and the rib-
bon to match were shown, and there was another
shout of glee and a dance of delight, and once
more the cat was hugged and old Granny kissed.
Never had the dame known such a day. Never

had her old heart been so gladdened. She
seemed to have become a child again, young and
fresh and happy. And when night sent long
shadows upon the hearth, and the child, after say-
ing her few words of prayer, crept into bed, the
old dame knelt down, too, and cried:
Oh, Lord God! forgive me all my miserly
From that day forward, there was a great change
in the old hut and its owner. Dirt and untidiness
vanished. Dora knitted so fast that the old dame
had to send her twice a week for yarn, and the
stockings and mittens she made were so strong
and so warm, that every one was glad to buy
them. More chickens were bought, and there
were so many eggs that some had to be sold. A
carpenter came from the village and mended the
chairs and tables, and put on a new roof. At
evening, a ruddy light gleamed through bright
window-panes, and in the morning Dora might be
seen, with pail on arm, going to milk a meek brown
cow which the dame had bought. Good, thick,
rich cream was now in the cat's bowl, and she no
more had to hunt squirrels and mice. A bright-
faced clock ticked over the fire-place, white cur-
tains draped the snowy bed, and peace and plenty
abode in the old dame's home.
Dora grew tall and strong, and more and more
helpful. The dame sat beside the fire in spotless
cap, and did nothing but knit. Neighbors and
friends came in and chatted, and were welcome.
No more the hungry beggar passed by the door,
for all who saw Dora knew that pity and kindness
were within her heart. Flowers blossomed in the
door-way, and vines crept up the door-posts.
The cat grew older and older, and purred out
her happiness; never again had she spoken in
audible words, but peace and plenty, ay, and
gold, had come to the old dame's hearth.
A strange clergyman, passing one day, asked
for a draught to quench his thirst. Dora brought
him a brimming glass of sweetest milk.
"Whom shall I thank?" he asked, as he
glanced at her lovely face.
"My name is Theodora," she returned.
"That means The gf of God,' said the stran-
ger, reverently.
Sometimes, the thought of what she would have
lost that dreary night, had she refused shelter to
the little sobbing child, would come to the old
dame's mind; and then she would shiver and bend
down to pat the purring pussy. Was it, then, con-
science or the cat that had spoken ? Whichever it
was, the dame never regretted opening her cottage
and her heart to little Theodora.






BY M. S.



WCL; cL Inall loo, \,it[ a- tooto
'V7kom tke ncijkbor; all 4ImfcT-qmfd to ;Ioot.
331A {ke foot {kc nrwfcly
N'7,; e;1Lcd full Of&CL
'vfh-ick 5tbop1d 'dl fk e toot 0- o tQot


'I v1'\\I:I /'



THE sun that brings perpetual summer to balmy
southern climes was shining brightly over the
white houses of Pilatka. Amid the shade trees
along the streets, the golden yallahaltmacks (sour
oranges) hung in bright contrast to the dark and
shining foliage of their loftier companions. Grace-
ful festoons of gray Spanish moss draped the
boughs of the wild magnolias, whose sweet fra-
grance, mingling with the scent of many flowers
unknown to northern latitudes, perfumes the soft
May air; while along the water's edge the pres-
ence of myriads of mosquito-like insects suggested

- ---- .-
I i

-N.:. -.
A.'.,, .

/ 'i::

-- c I
-~-~-~=-~~- -,~-- -^
I --
one of the characteristic discomforts which are
mingled with the attractions of life in Florida.
The perfume-laden breeze fanned alike the
cheeks of the sallow southern planter, the sun-
tanned tourist, the swarthy negro, and the wan and
feeble invalid, as they lazily grouped-themselves
in picturesque lounging attitudes on the dock to
watch three lively, bustling youths, who were en-
gaged in hoisting the anchor and setting the sail
of a small flat-bottomed boat.

1 say, fellows," presently called out the tallest
of the boys, it 's a shame to leave such a chance
for a sketch If those people were posing espe-
cially for a picture, they could not form themselves
into a finer tableau."
Oh, give us a rest on sketching and take the
tiller replied one who answered to the name of
Dick. There, old fellow, now let 's show that
old 'corn-cracker' down yonder that we Yankee
boys can sail a boat."
"Ay! Ay! Dick;--Hard-a-lee was the
response. Look out, Tom, or that luggage will
be overboard."
And with a loud answering cry of Hi-yi! to
the farewell cheer from the group on the landing,
our three heroes, Tom, Dick, and Harry, went
skimming merrily over the coffee-colored waters of
the St. John's River.
Ah !"sighed Harry, while tugging at the rude
oar that answered for a rudder. If we only had
the 'Nomad' down here now."
"Yes," answered Tom; -"but this scow-
shaped craft can make good time with the wind
astern. There,-make the sheet fast with a hitch,
-that's it. See how small the people on the
dock look now The Nomad,' he continued,
"is a beauty, and no one can deny that she is just
the boat for a cruise on Long Island Sound. Yet
this open, flat-bottomed boat possesses advantages
not to be overlooked. See she draws but a few
inches of water, is as tight as a drum, and what
better or more convenient lockers could a fellow
want for his luggage than the two water-tight com-
partments in the square bow and stern? The
mast can be taken down at pleasure, and, when
supported by the two crotches that I had made at
Pilatka, forms an excellent ridge-pole for a tent
made of the sail. And last, but not least in your
eyes, Harry, this comical little boat is more pict-
uresque than the trim yacht on board of which we
made the trip to the Desert Island last year."
True," replied Harry, thoughtfully. There
seems to be a natural fitness even in man's handi-
work that harmonizes with nature's surroundings."
Now, Harry, I really must protest," Tom was
beginning, with an air of long-suffering endur-
ance finally worn out, when Harry interrupted
him in his turn.
"Let me alone, Tom; I never interrupt you
when you talk natural history. As I was saying,
this craft is a natural accompaniment to the scene.

* See One Day on a Desert Island," ST. NICHOLAS for November, 1882.






What an entirely different theme for a picture we h
to the rough, cold .: :. ..t .. .. i..: 1
"There heis go- t .
But Harry was -
bound :__ .
to finish,
and placidly con-
tinued: -" ,- .
"What a peaceful,
quiet warmth per- -
vades everything
here! See how the, '1. -
white houses of dis- /
tant Pilatka shine .
out from among the --
trees And look at the
bold dash of color or -
yonder lawn "
'"Ye-s," again inter- .
rupted Tom, as he bus ,,.-
led himself soaking "- 2-'* -- i*
blotting paper with
chloroform, and fitting I- _
the pieces into wide- I ,
mouthed glass vials -
" ye-s," he repeated, a:
he tightly corked th "'
last bottle and placed i1 ...l !... .:r il. .: I
has a sleepy look, and rii I_. I I
red patch in a green b: -..ir i. ...ri
when ashore, and I four .-. .. [ r. i. .. .
the ground is covered : i .. r. .: -. ., ,
closely together. It w ri-. ... r
could tell to a certainty .l : .-i -. 1, V ... i i. l i : .. ,i .I [I* -. I -
But I say, Harry, what ith i[r., Li,.. : :I r: I .
like a knot on a log, as i...ri TI-.: I I iT il.
while you rouse him "
Dick's usually jolly f-a.... I ..1 i ..! H I. [ .1 rr ..:I ,I .1 -.. !:
and he did not deign to r Ii:! ., i. .i '.- !.,r. TI. ti T :i I r i.-,,
tireless sports an was b ri .. 1 i. i.: -i, I: I .:I, .,.i-.'r" .if 1.
Florida had, so far, fail :- .. | i. i .: .I .: :r, .r .
W here were the myri.-i .. ..I ..I .r..: I. l: --.ii
lined with the m artial-]. .:.- 1 il.:.:l; .:. i l.- : i. .. r i.,1 \ .
the much talked of alli-. .i...
These were the qucst,..,- ii. .:... : i, ... : | .. ,.i u
revolving, and which .-- i,: -:.:., ,t...i ... ii !... :,:ri .:.. -
begone look. H e repli. i... in- ..... p i.i..ri': h.. i -i:.k[I .2 k .1- i Ii
by an impatient gesture .. ,1. .o. i ii f' I :1.. I 1 '
muttered som thing ver i .i.:.. i.. ..~ ii .:. t .1 .: i .: '-,
whom he denominated : i i -'
"'W hy, Harry," exc! *-.i.... l I. : i ..... I .1 ,i.
steamer I sometimes -I:l:t ,,i ir, ..i ... i.,r iii -
it is shabby-looking," Ii.- i..1 :.1 ...!. i ..., :..:.i . .i -
Baldface' (here he it -...: i. I r._l ii .- i -i i.,.., -
barrels of his breech-loader) "ever did aught to shame his
owner; but because every man, woman, and child aboard that boat
of some description, with which they kept up a constant fusillade, aime
A term applied to those who shoot game out of season.

ave here, in strong contrast
.1 .... .-.. 1 O "
i'['l'-r i:' 111[ *1 il I il i.

I'. -l ~

i ir

seemed to have fire-arms
d at every living thing we



passed. I shall be ashamed to look game in the
"Perhaps that unpleasant contingency will not
be forced upon you," interrupted Harry.
"Well," said Dick, quite soberly, "there is not,
I am sure, an alligator left in the St. John's
large enough to frirj lt.. ... r -
Hardly were the l.lr r .:.I..lI- .. i ..
mouth, when there : i r. Il- :-.1.1I
alongside the boat.
"Look out! the:.. I L. i,, I ....I.
ness! what was tha' i.i .
he perched himself, 0:.... i- i
wale oftheboat ancd i-..- .:l i, 1
from his eyes. "I il.:.u.-l-t I
you knew better, Toc.i,, .i! 3
to jibe a cranky Ib.:.- i: i '
this, when going i..- I. tl-c
"It was all m i..i 'v-
knowledged Tom. '" i -u..: ...-l.1 ..
to sail up close to tl it ..1 I -
to see why it looked. i"-- '
culiar, and when -I... I.. i
was so near that I .:.ud !-
most touch the log. ,rli. I!,
hand, the old snags p I1. i.
two, and half of it c I i
near tumbling in,-,,
the boat. Strange ,.
thing I ever saw ': -_
Yes," answered
Harry, dryly, as .-I
he pointed to
some object that
was swimming -ti
off, leaving a /
long wake in the
water; "it was a
very lively log/ i ,
And there it goes, ;
with the tip of its
scaly yellow and '
black tail and
the end of its
snout above the 'i
water. A log, in- i
deed! It is one ,i V,
of Dick's little
'gators, not large:
enough to frighten .1
cat! It really is ;..r
more than twelve feet long,-the little dear! Oh !
oh!" laughed the artist. "Tom, the celebrated
naturalist, mistakes an alligator for a log, and
Dick, the nimrod, is too astonished to shoot! "
Harry," retorted Dick, "how about that sand-

hill crane at Jacksonville-or rather, that pair
of cranes? I think that is too good a joke to
keep. I'm going to tell it to Tom. You deserve
to be laughed at; so here goes."
"Now, Dick," remonstrated Harry, half laugh-


i: r
II 0' Nt ~2

"" \ ~


.1 rl.. .i.I- r..ry

Too late, my boy," laughed Dick. "As I said
before, here goes. Tom, you remember ho the
; I a i rl. It .':ll

looking back at him, the picture of expectancy.
No, let me make a donation of myself and tell
the story," pleaded Harry.
Too late, my boy," laughed Dick. "As I said
before, here goes. Tom, you remember how the




old fish-hawk prevented Harry from sketching
her nest? Well, our bold knight of the pencil has
had another brush."
"There !" retorted Harry, "you know you only
wanted to tell that story in order to gain the dis-
honor of that bad pun."
"While we were looking through the shops
of Jacksonville, and waiting for the boat," con-
tinued Dick, unheeding the interruption, Harry
went off to make a sketch. Some tame sand-
hill cranes, belonging to the curiosity-shop man,
were stalking around town, showing off before
strangers and picking up dainty morsels here and
there, when they espied Harry hard at work paint-
ing. Now these birds possess a great amount
of curiosity, and the strange position and actions
of our artist excited in them a desire to see what
the funny human animal was doing, so they both
slyly approached him. The foremost bird, the
better to investigate the matter, thrust his head
quietly under the arm of our industrious, preoc-
cupied friend. As the latter looked down to
select a proper tint from his palette, imagine his
astonishment to see a red-topped, long-beaked
head between him and his colors. Jumping to
his feet, Harry administered a blow with the
painty side of his board, which made a highly
artistic landscape of the bird's head and set it
cackling with rage, flapping its wings and calling
to its mate. The two cranes darted at the now
terrified artist and chased him through the streets
of Jacksonville, to the great delight of the colored
boys, who shouted with glee to see the Yankee
boy run from a pair of "red-tops."
That's about all, Dick," said Harry. I have
now been duly punished, and will never again dare
to poke fun at so magnanimous and great a hunter."
Thus a running fire of conversation was kept up,
each one of the boys laughing with a hearty good
will at the sallies of his companions, even if the
joke happened to be upon himself, until at last
Harry called out:
There is the island, boys! Let me see the notes,
Tom. Ah, here it is. Rembert or Drayton's Island;
N. E. side, low and swampy; higher lands back;
shell formation; wooded with sweet-gum, live oaks,
smooth-barked hickory, and magnolias.' Yes, this
must be the place. Let's put into that cove, Tom."
"All right," answered the helmsman. "Stand
by the down-haul, and be ready to drop sail."
"Ay ay !" answered the other boys, and in a
few moments the flat bottom of the boat slid noisily
over the moist shore, as the bow ran up on the
Just as the boys were about to jump ashore, Tom
stepped forward excitedly and cried out in great
alarm: For your life, Dick, don't move "

Dick naturally stood as motionless as a rock,
while Harry stared first at one and then the other
of his companions. The naturalist thrust his hand
into his pocket and produced a wide-mouthed
bottle, uncorked it, and with a lead-pencil skill-
fully knocked into it a small object from the sleeve
of the horror-stricken Dick.
"A mule-killer! Hurrah! shouted Tom, in
rapture, as he quickly replaced the cork in the
bottle. "Look at that sting, Dick!- fully one
and one half inches long."
Thanks for the implied compliment," retorted
Dick, upon whose brow the beads of cold perspira-
tion stood. '' But if I am a mule, I had much rather
die at work in my harness than be killed by any
such horrid-looking, scaly brown bug as that!"
It is not a bug, Dick," replied Tom, as he
gazed fondly upon his prize, which the chloroform
had already either stupefied or killed. It is a
kind of scorpion."
Tom is always the first fellow to find game,"
said Harry, "and now that he has settled the mule-
killer, let us pick out our camping ground and cook
something, for I am as hungry as a wolf. It must
be about half-past two."
"Yes, lacking three minutes, New York time,"
said Dick.
The three boys sprang ashore, and before long
had discovered a plantation where there was a well
of good water, some orange-trees, and a banana
grove with ripe and unripe fruit.
This, indeed, looked something like the Florida
they had read about. While they were examining
some tall, strange-looking palm-trees, which Tom
pronounced to be date palms, a gentleman came
from the house, and observing the three boys, evi-
dently strangers, hospitably invited them in to a
dinner of unlimited fruit, corn-bread, and pork.
With the exception of two plantations (the Cal-
houn orange grove, eighty or more years old, and
Wright's place), Rembert Island appeared to be
unoccupied, and was wild and tropical enough to
satisfy even the fastidious taste of Dick.
Harry was delighted with the odd forms assumed
by the vegetation. There were the decorative fan-
shaped leaves of the latinia, or scrub palmetto,
which covered the waste places with almost im-
penetrable thickets, and here and there along the
edge of the clearings were the trunks of a strange
plant, which twisted like a serpent on the ground,
and then, turning up at the end, presented a crown
armed with a formidable array of sharp, spike-
like leaves, from which the plant derives its name
of Spanish bayonet.
The thickets and swamps afforded a safe retreat
for many wild animals, which there lived almost as
free a life as did their ancestors, when the moc-


casined foot of the painted savage left its print in
the yielding soil, and was the only sign of human
life in the vast southern wilderness.
There was a pond upon the island frequented
by a large number of water-fowl, where Tom, one
morning, secured a pair of beautiful roseate spoon-
bills, and where Dick was wont to travel, the re-
port of his gun, Old Baldface," always telling of
a new specimen for the naturalist, or a dinner of
fresh meat for them all.
Harry tramped or sailed about on voyages of
discovery, until there was not a picturesque cove or
vine-covered tree, within a circuit of ten miles, of
which he did not have one or two sketches in his
And Tom, with his pins and fatal bottles, played
havoc among the creeping and flying insects;
while his collection of bird-skins was destined to
be the envy of many a stay-at-home book-natural-
ist, as Tom contemptuously termed them.
Late one afternoon, the boys were seated around
a crackling camp fire of blazing pine knots, feeling
very comfortable with the prospect of a good cup
of tea and a relish of crackers and cheese before
them, when a strange step was heard, and, looking
up, the boys saw as odd a boy as they had ever
encountered. He had high cheek-bones and a cop-
per-colored face, and instead of wearing the tradi-
tional ivory-displaying grin of the conventional
negro, his countenance was subdued even to gloom.
He was attired in an old buckskin coat, two sizes
too large for him, and a pair of superannuated
overalls. But his face brightened into a positive
smile at the sight of their preparations for supper,
as he unceremoniously seated himself by the fire.
He looked. from one to the other of the boys for a
moment, and then ejaculated:
"I s'pose yo's havin' a good time, an' ef yo' wants
some fun, old Uncle Enos told me dat dar am one
of dem young cats pesterin' de chickens. De old
cat am dun killed a month ago."
We 're not hunting pussies," said Dick, in a
superior manner.
Dis heah 's no pussy," retorted the lad, he am
a wild-cat; an' I knows whar to fin' him. Ef yo 's
a mind to hab a hunt I'll show yo' de way."
And without waiting for an answer, the young
savage started off, leaving the boys undecided what
to do.
I move we eat first and hunt afterward," sug-
gested Tom.
"I 'm with you," assented Harry.
Dick looked first at his gun and then at the sim-
mering tea, and laconically remarked: "Tea,-
or game? The majority rules."
"Pass around the majority," laughed Harry, as
Tom commenced pouring out the tea.

Thoughts of both cat and boy soon faded
from the minds of the tired and hungry boys as,
with keen appetites, they devoured their evening
The sun was setting when the boys retired to
their sleeping quarters, which consisted of a bed
of blanket-covered boards in their boat, over which
they had pitched an A-shaped tent, open for ven-
tilation at the ends, which, however,were protected
by mosquito netting.
The boat was anchored out a little from the
land, and all was ready for the night, when a voice
rang out through the still air:
I 've got 'im I 've got 'im."
What 's that? Listen said Tom.
I've got 'im repeated the voice, now recog-
nized as belonging to their late visitor.
Without more ado, the three boys jumped into
the skiff, and in a few moments were ashore,
stumbling over roots, and splashing through
water like mad, running pell-mell toward the spot
where they had heard the voice.
He is on the high land," cried Dick. This
way and leaping over a fallen tree, he disap-
peared in the jungle.
"Wonder what he 's got ?" queried Harry as,
with perspiring face and torn garments, he rested
against a palmetto tree.
The cat, of course," replied Tom, as he bound
his handkerchief around his wrist where a sharp
thorn had lacerated it.
Well," quoth Harry, "if the wild cat is any-
thing like those that I have seen in cages, the
boy is welcome to keep it, and I don't see why I
hurried so."
Dick must be there by this time," said Tom,
"and possibly may need our help."
There was a sudden crackling of branches; and
Dick ran by, laughing and mutely pointing back.
Tom and Harry ran in the direction indicated, and
soon discovered the young Indian in a half-kneeling
posture, holding tightly to something under an old
The something proved to be a short, scrubby
tail, the owner of which was struggling frantically
to crawl down the hole; and Harry said it was
only a question of how long the tail would last.
Tom was thunderstruck. The bare idea of
catching a wild-cat by the tail made the well-read
young naturalist shiver; but the ignorant Indian
lad knew more of the nature and habits of such
creatures than books could teach, and, therefore,
when he saw the animal dive into the hole, he
knew that, if caught by the tail, it would pull one
way as long as he pulled the other. And as the
hole was too narrow for the beast to turn, he
was safe from claws and teeth until help arrived.




In a little while, the required help came in the
shape of Dick, who, all out of breath, bore in his
hand a pair of canvas overalls. Thrusting one
arm through the lower end of one leg of the trou-
sers, he caught the cat's tail with a firm grasp.
The negro now let go, and while Tom and Harry
were gone to the camp for some twine, he pulled
the top of the trousers leg over the hole and held
it there securely. Dick then slowly pulled the fright-
ened but ferocious animal backward out of the hole

A few days after this adventure, Harry went out
for a tramp, and returned to camp, his face radiant
with pleasure and self-satisfaction.
Tom," said he, I have caught for you some
black, some yellow, and some brown lizards. Little
beauties, I can tell you "
Then he carefully opened an old cigar-box in
which he usually carried his paints and, as he peeped
inside, his eyes opened and his whole face expressed
the utmost astonishment.

t' I
... 4_ r' -

-. .
*-fT'~' *1
_ '-' -r'-* ";' '^ '* _' -'

rl_, ,U.:' I~~R~F
; ,4,:Y~-.5" -". i

.11* i

'- : Iiave
', .-.' .:-,._.:.i : i .. ... p an
i6 i ", .. i |-..=_ l 1, ,. I..,, I',.,!l .i i.. -. e I a n

lizards !"
into the trousers leg, not letting go his hold on the Carolina anolis / sententiously remarked
tail until the Indian had gathered the top of the Tom.
trousers together over the animal's head, and tied "Who's she? The wood-nymph ? Do you
them securely, know her ?" asked Harry, as he shut the box with
When Tom and Harry returned, the cat was a a snap. Well, what I want to know is, how
prisoner, and Dick was scolding and laughing, by Carrie what 's-her-name painted all my specimens
turns, at the poor, enraged brute's futile efforts to bright-green, for I am willing to vouch that nothing
escape from the improvised bag, which danced and green touched that box."
tumbled about in a most comical manner. "Except yourself," laughed Tom. You have





been catching what are commonly known as Florida
chameleons, and they have changed color in the
box. If I were to put them all in alcohol now, they


i .1 ,

would again change col, and remain of a dirty

yellow hue."
From the mysterious depths of his pockets Tom

squirming reptiles, i .1. '' 'r ..I I,
thumb and forefin';. i. i .1 I.. I.

"Look and see I .'. i..,,D.. lI : r '.

toward the end of I. and remain of a dirty
forward part having i.: ..Ia m ii.r.
heel, thus dividing -gl. rTh, :t ting hi

as the band for the fin I-'ii I ii. i-i..: -

What 's that

saying:Look again
and see," an-d see .i.
swered Tomh il n g. c lor !a i e in iI r

a lofty, professor-ked an.
like amanner.n ci- : l i' tl

Upon lookingder I
a seonw d time, end of i- r. r

Harry discovered
hat the edges aof
the pleats were armed with rows of needle-like
"Look again ^ h,,.-, ,s, .. .,-

points, and the mechanical principles upon which
the foot ated dawned upon him.
alofty, professor- a I .- rl.i-. I.
like manner. S \ r .
Upon looheing | h.I:,r / _: ,
a second time, o .. r m r .. ,, t!,<

that the edges of
the pleats were armed with rows of needle-like
points, and the mechanical principles upon which
the foot acted dawned upon him.

"I see, I see!" he exclaimed. "When the
little rascal runs up a wall, the soft pads upon his
toes fit and fill any little uneven place beneath
them, acting like the leather suckers we used
to make; while, at the same time, the little
spines pointing downward are brought to bear
upon the surface of the wall. But," he contin-
ued, "should Mr. Bright Eyes run down the
wall, the pads perform their part just as well
and are aided by the opposite set of spines and
pleats. Hurrah for Tom, the great naturalist "
he shouted, and in his enthusiasm dropped the
box from under his arm.
The inmates immediately took advantage of
the opportunity to scatter in every direction;
seeing which, Harry grabbed at one and caught
it by the tail. His sudden cry of horror start-
led Tom from his fit of laughter; but when a
tailless chameleon darted under a stick at his
feet, and lie saw Harry gazing with conster-
nation on a squirming tail which he held in his
hand for a moment, and then dropped twisting
and writhing on the ground, he broke out
afresh and laughed immoderately.
Harry looked up at last, muttering something
about its being his belief that the box had contained
imps instead of reptiles. He was then about to
start away, when Tom
-i.-l:. U I. I1 .: -til 1; ,.ly

i, !, ,-**. 1 ,I 1 1 : it
I- ,, *l , i tsc

!,I ... i ,V.s

S, '.. ,, of
I Ill I e


With these words, he opened his sketch-book,
and showed it to his companion. Tom's eyes
sparkled, and he exclaimed joyously:




" Ha, old fellow Where did you make that sketch ? "
"' h.' .1 :! 1:.i ii., I is turn assuming a patronizing
in.. :1 r.1. I, I-- I --1- ... I 'copied from the life,' and
I: ... I I .-.. rl... l.. ,i....ls, I was creeping up slyly on
i..:..i,.1 .. !. i, ],.- ,,- ,, iner Chitta," the Indian boy,
i,,~I ,,-. !. "'-.i ding I was stalking a deer,
......... : .i i ..:',..3s the water caught my eye.
,. Ii i i ... r I risen, and there was a slight
"\' _.... -.n ,,,,t on the river, through which
I saw a lot of long-legged,
S red-bodied creatures
\. wading and posing
in such a gro-
tesque man-
ner that I
;. forgot the
[ \ imagi-
S" ary
: -- 1, deer,
S, and,

*- i, !'. '- i '

.. ... .,

S' -..produc-
",,~ ing my
.. / sketch-
.- '.-. .book, made the
"- Idrawing."
-. They are flamingoes, Harry,"
/ .1 i'om. "Oh! if I had only been
L.t us go now."
.t .. -. said Harry. "I slipped off
'."i 0 r. i 1, ,ng to assume a more comfort-
S'.- ''. and although the birds were
S, "!"" I ..' 'distance away, up they flew,
i : hanging out behind, and dis-
-" -'n '... i n the distance."
-, l.. big storm that passed through
-. Florida just be-
-'I -. fore we arrived
Sphere must have
t.. e "m ;, --o-,"j;I .

i.~ .-.. .-- ,- -_- : -1 _- .

driven them inland," remarked Tom; "for, if I am rightly in-
formed, flamingoes are never seen here. However, from the nat-
uralness of the poses in your sketch, I know that the drawings were
made from nature. How happy I should have been to see them "
VOL. X.-53. A name meaning "snake."


"Thanks," remarked Harry to the naturalist:
'' more for the compliment to my sketch than foi
the implied doubt of my word. But I suppose yot
scientific fellows must have hard facts, so here is
a sketch of a fish-stork, though I call the wholx
lot river pirates."
Harry Harry !" cried Tom, "that can no
be true to nature "
There you go again, Tom," said the naturalist
in an injured tone. "Now, I tell you I did no
get up before daylight, and tramp and crawl around(
through mud and water all day without any dinner
merely to draw on my imagination. Old Unclh
Enos will bear witness to this.
"He was out fishing this morning, and as I wa
acting the spy on all nature I watched him. I say
him row ashore and pull
up his boat high and dry.
Then he went away for

th .

as I had no gun, I took out my pencil. Suddenly
-.-.,,.- /i

R* 1 "
I,' !," --,^ "

something; but he had n't been gone for mor
than a few minutes, when along came two bi
birds about the size of swans, but with great ion
heads with bags hanging from the under side o
"o 'There is something for Tom,' thought I, an
as I had no gun, I took out my pencil. Suddenly
to my surprise, one of the birds made for th
boat, waddled ashore, and with an awkward fla
of its wings tumbled its great body into the skif
Uncle Enos evidently caught sight of the bird jus
then; for as it was making a tremendous effoi
to swallow a whole string of fish at once, the ol
man shouted at it. At the sound of the voic
away went the bird, flapping its huge wings o

the water, and with the string of fish dangling
That was a pelican, Harry," said Tom. You
have seen enough of them before ; so don't pretend
ignorance, just to add to the improbable possibili-
ties of your story."
"I say, boys," interrupted Dick at this point,
" I do not like to propose it, any more than you;
but do you know our time is up? I think that we
had better devote to-morrow to gathering our traps
together and packing. We must hurry, too, to
reach home on time "
That is a home lhrust; but you are right,
Dick," responded Tom, with a regretful sigh for
the delights he was called upon to leave.

Not many days afterward, the boys land-
-...I t : -i i, New York, and were looking
. 'r- i .: ... reful handling of their numerous
...!-.1-i] -,..-. packages and bundles, which,
''''' C Eli' ~~ if 4 rL .1, 111~i'.-alg

.1 ullla c -- I ll LI lla

(Jr.I 4i-

--, ..s: -'



!! :!' I'It l'?'' foot and an odd-looking
",'" ..- bird's head which protruded
from one and another, con-
tained their curiosities, trophies, and specimens.
It does not seem possible, and I can hardly
realize the fact, that we are back in New York,"
remarked Harry. "This whirling a fellow from
the wild, silent depths of a Floridian swamp into
the midst of the every-day, practical, bustling
world, rather upsets me."
Well, good-bye, boys," said Dick, as they took
leave of one another on the pier. I have ordered
all the boxes sent to my house, as we agreed; and
if you should feel sufficiently civilized by to-mor-
row to resume your ordinary store clothes, come
around, and we'll unpack them together."
The friends then separated. And so ended their
trip to Florida.





i i




,.. r--*Ip-2 -.....l r -.
- .' / -. -' --- = "

0 _' _--N- t._- .- ..__- 'a.' ,' -- -,#-*.
-1. '- -- 1" "- .... --i




-- ...::'- all civilized nations, the
S ,tes of war seem to have
i I." en written with an iron
.nd. The laws by which
-' r.- ,. soldier in the field is
.. i _-overned are, of necessity,
'..:I ,s exorable; for strict dis-
Scipline is the chief ex-
Scellence of an army,
k : -"- and a ready obedience
the chief virtue of a sol-
dier. Nothing can be more admirable in the char-
acter of the true .soldier than his prompt and un-
questioning response to the trumpet-call of duty.
The world can never forget, nor ever sufficiently
admire, a Leonidas with his three hundred Spar-
tans at Thermopyla, the Roman soldier on guard
at the gates of perishing Pompeii, or the gallant
six hundred charging into the "valley of death"
at Balaklava. Disobedience to orders is the great
sin of the soldier, and one which is sure to be pun-
ished; for at no other time does Justice wear so
stern and severe a look as when she sits enthroned
amidst the camps of armed men.
In different sections of the army, various expe-
dients were resorted to for the purpose of correct-
ing minor offenses. What particular shape the
punishment should assume depended very much
upon the inventive faculty of the Field and Staff, or
of such officers of the line as might have charge of
the case.
Before taking the field, a few citizen sneak-
thieves were discovered prowling about among
the tents. These were promptly drummed out of
camp to the tune of the Rogues' March," the
whole regiment shouting in derision as the miser-

able fellows took to their heels when the procession
reached the limits of the camp, where they were
told to be gone, and never show their faces in camp
again on pain of a more severe handling.
If, as very seldom happened, it was an enlisted
man who was caught stealing, he was often pun-
ished in the following way: A barrel, having one
end knocked out. and in the other end a hole large
enough to allow the culprit's head to go through,
was drawn over his shoulders. On the outside
of the barrel, the word THIEF! was printed in
large letters. In this dress, he presented the lu-
dicrous appearance of an animated meal barrel;
for you could see nothing of him but his head and
legs -his hands being very significantly confined.
Sometimes he was obliged to stand, or sit, as best
he could, about the guard-house, or near the
Colonel's quarters, all day long. At other times
he was compelled to march through the company
streets and make the tour of the camp under guard.
Once in the field, however, sneak-thieves soon
disappeared. Nor was there frequent occasion to
punish the men for any other offenses. Nearly, if
not quite, all of the punishments inflicted in the
field were for disobedience, in some form or other.
Not that the men were at any time willfully dis-
obedient. It very rarely happened, even amid the
greatest fatigue after a hard day's march, or in the
face of the most imminent danger, that any one
refused his duty. But after a long and severe
march, a man is so completely exhausted that he
is likely to become irritable, and to manifest a
temper quite foreign to his usual habit. He is then
not himself, and may, in such circumstances, do
what at other times he would not think of doing.
If, while we were lying in camp, a man refused
to do his duty, he was at once taken to the guard-
house, which is the military name for lock-up."
Once there, at the discretion of the officers, he was
either simply confined and put on bread and water,

Copyright, 1881, by Harry M. Kieffer. All rights reserved.


or else ordered to carry a log of wood, or a
knapsack filled with stones, "two hours on and
two off," day and night, until such time as he was
deemed to have done sufficient penance. In more
extreme cases, a court-martial was held, and the
penalty of forfeiture of all pay due, with hard labor
for thirty days, or the like, was inflicted.
In some regiments they had a high wooden
horse, which the offender was made to mount;
and there he was kept for hours in a seat as con-
spicuous as it was uncomfortable.
One day, down in front of Petersburg, a number
of us had been making a friendly call on some
acquaintances over in another regiment. As we
were returning home, we came across what we
took to be a well, and, wishing a drink, we all
stopped. The well in question, as was usual
there, was nothing but a barrel sunk in the
ground; for at some places the ground was so full
of springs that, in order to get water, all you had
to do was to sink a box or barrel, and the water

Why," said the guard, who was standing near
by, and whom we had taken for the customary
guard of the spring, "you see, comrades, our
Colonel has his own way of punishin' the boys.
One thing he wont let 'em do-he wont let 'em
get intoxicated. If they do, they go into the
gopher hole. Jim, there, is in the gopher hole
now. That hole has a spring at the bottom, and
the water comes in pretty fast; and if Jim wants
to keep dry, he's got to keep dippin' all the time,
or else stand in the water up to his waist-and
Jim is n't so mighty fond o' water, neither."



IN what way to account for it I know not, but so
it is, that soldiers always have been, and I suppose
always will be, merry-hearted fellows and full of
good spirits. One would naturally think that,


would soon collect of its own accord. Stooping
down and looking into the barrel in question,
Andy discovered a man standing in the well, en-
gaged in bailing out the water.
"What's he doing down there in that hole?"
asked some one of our company.
"He says he's in the gopher hole," replied
Andy, who had already exchanged a few words
with the man.
Gopher hole What's a gopher hole? "

having every day so much to do with hardship and
danger, they would be sober and serious enough.
But such was by no means the case with our boys
in blue. In camp, on the march, ay, even in the
solemn hour of battle, they were always merry.
However severe the hardship or nigh the danger,
there was ever and anon a laugh passing down the
line, or some sport going on in or about the tents.
Seldom was there wanting some one noted for his
powers of story-telling to beguile the weary hours




about the camp-fire at the lower end of the com-
pany street, or out among the pines on picket.
Few companies could be found without some
native-born wag or wit, whose comical songs or
quaint remnqrlk kept the bovn in good hillmor. while

We always believed that Harter had somehow
smuggled a cartridge into that beef of ours while
our backs were turned.


mous and favorite kind of sport, es-
pecially when we had been

.. '- ^ i ,

,-- ... ._-


at the same time, all were given to playing prac-
tical jokes of one kind or other for the general
enlivenment of the camp.
We were lying down along the Rappahannock
some time in the fall of 1863, when Andy said one
day: "Look here, Harry; let 's have some roast
beef once. I 'm tired of this everlasting frying and
frizzling, and my mouth waters for a good roast.
And I've just learned how to do it, too ; for I saw
a fellow over there in another camp at it, and I tell
you it was a success! You see, you take your
chunk of beef and wrap it up in a cloth or newspa-
per, and then you get some clay and cover it thick
all over with the clay, until it looks like a big
forty-pound cannon-ball; and then you put it in
among the red-hot coals, and it bakes hard like a
brick; and when it 's done, you simply crack the
shell off, and out comes your roast, just prime "
We at once set to work, and all went well enough
till Corporal Harter came along. While Andy was
off for more clay, and I was looking after more
paper, Harter fumbled around our beef, saying he
did n't believe we could roast it that way.
"Just you wait, now," said Andy, coming in
with the clay; we '11 show you."
So we covered our beef thickly with tough clay,
and rolled the great ball into the camp-fire, bury-
ing it among the hot ashes and coals, and sat down
to watch it, while the rest of the boys were boiling
their coffee and frying their steaks for dinner. The
fire was a good one, and there were about a dozen
black tin cups dangling on as many long sticks,
their several owners lounging about in a circle,
when, all of a sudden, with a terrific bang! amid
a shower of sparks and ashes, the coffee-boilers
were scattered to right and left, and a dozen quarts
of coffee sent hissing and sizzling into the fire -and
our poor roast beef was a sorry looking mess in-
deed when we picked it out of the general wreck.

lying in camp for some time in summer, or were
established in winter quarters, was what was known
as raiding the sutler."
We heard a great deal in those days about
" raids "; and it was only natural, therefore, for us
when growing weary of the dull monotony of camp
life, to look about for some one to "raid." Very
often the sutler was the chosen victim. He was
selected, not because he was a civilian and wore citi-
zens' clothes, but chiefly because of what seemed
to the boys the questionable character of his pur-
suit-making money out of the soldiers. "Here
we are," they would reason; "here we have left
home and taken our lives in our hands-' in for
three years or sooner shot.' We get thirteen dollars
a month and live on hard-tack, and over there is
the sutler, at whose shop a man may spend a whole
month's pay and hardly get enough to make a
single good meal. It's a mean business."
The sutler never enjoyed much respect; how
could he, when he flourished and fattened on our
hungry stomachs? Of course, if a man spent the
whole of his month's wages for ginger-cakes and
sardines it was his own fault; but it was hardly in
human nature to live on pork, bean soup, and
hard-tack, and not feel the mouth water at the
sight of the sutler's counter, with its array of lux-
uries, poor and common though they were. Be-
sides, the sutler usually charged most exorbitant
prices--two ginger-cakes for five cents, four apples
for a quarter, eighty cents for a small can of con-
densed milk, and ninety for a pound of butter.
Perhaps his charges were none too high, when his
risks were duly considered; for he was usually
obliged to transport his goods a great distance,
over almost impassable roads, and was often liable
to capture by the enemy's foraging parties, beside
being exposed to other fortunes of war whereby
he might lose all in an hour. But soldiers in



search of sport were not much disposed to take a
just and fair view of all these circumstances. What
they saw was only this--that they wanted some-
body to raid, and who could be a fitter subject
that the sutler?
The sutler's establishment was a large wall tent,
which was usually pitched on the side of the camp
furthest away from the Colonel's quarters. It was,
therefore, in a somewhat exposed and tempting
position. Whenever it was thought well to raid
him, the men of his own regiment would make to
the men of some neighboring regiment a prop-
osition in some such terms as this :
You fellows come over here some night and
raid our sutler, and we '11 come over to your camp
some night and raid yours. Will you do it ? "
This courteous offer of friendly offices was
usually agreed to ; and great was the sport which
often resulted. For, when all was duly arranged
and made ready, on a dark night when the sutler
was sleeping soundly in his tent, a skirmish line
from the neighboring regiment would cautiously
pick its way down the hill and through the brush,
and silently surround the tent. One party, creep-
ing close in by the wall of the tent, would loosen
the ropes and remove them from the stakes on one
side, while another party on the other side, at a giv-
en signal, would pull the whole concern down over
the sutler's head. And then would arise yells and
cheers for a few moments, followed by immediate si-
lence, as the raiding party would steal quietly away.
Did they steal his goods? Very seldom. For
soldiers were not thieves, and plunder was not the
object, but only fun. Why did not the officers
punish the men for doing this? Well, sometimes
they did. But sometimes the officers believed the
sutler to be exorbitant in his charges and oppres-
sive to the men, and cared little how soon he was
cleared out and sent a-packing; and therefore
they enjoyed the sport quite as well as the men,
and often imitated Nelson's example when he put
his blind eye to the telescope and declared he did
not see the signal to cease firing. They winked at
the frolic, and came on the scene usually in ample
time to condole with the sutler, but quite too late
to do him any service.
The sutler's tent was often a favorite lounging
place with the officers. One evening early, .a party
of about a dozen officers were seated on boxes and
barrels in the sutler's establishment. All of them
wanted cigars, but no one liked to call for them,
for cigars were so dear that no one cared about
footing the bill for the whole party, and yet could
not venture to be so impolite as to call for one for
himself alone. As they sat there, with the flaps
of the tent thrown back, they could see quite across
the camp to the Colonel's quarters beyond.



Now, boys," said Captain K- "I see the
chaplain coming down Company C street, and I
think he is coming here; and if he comes here,
we'll have some fun out of him. We all want
cigars, and we might as well confess what is an open
secret-that none of us dares to call for a, cigar
for himself alone nor feels like footing the bill for
the whole party. Well, let the sutler set out a
few boxes of cigars on the counter, so as to have
them handy, and you just follow my lead, and I '11
see whether we can't somehow or other make the
chaplain yonder pay for the reckoning."
The chaplain, it should be said, made some
pretension to literature, and considered himself
quite an authority in the camp on all questions
pertaining to orthography, etymology, syntax, and
prosody, and presumed to be an umpire in all
matters under discussion in the realm of letters.
So, when he came into the sutler's tent, Captain
K- exclaimed: Good evening, Chaplain.
You 're just the very man we want to see. We've
been having a little discussion here, and as we saw
you coming, we thought we'd submit the question
to you for decision."
Well, gentlemen," said the chaplain, with a
smile, "I shall be only too happy to render you
what assistance I can. May I inquire what is the
matter in dispute ? "
"It is but a little thing," replied the captain.
" You would, I suppose, call it more a matter of
taste than anything else. It concerns a question
of emphasis, or rather, perhaps, of inflection, and
it is this: would you say, 'Gentlemen, will you
have a cig-ar?' or 'Gentlemen, will you have a
cig-ar ?"
Pushing his hat forward, as he thoughtfully
scratched his head, the chaplain, after a pause,
responded: Well, there does n't seem to be much
difference between the two. But I believe I
should say, Gentlemen, will you have a cig-ar ?'"
"Certaily!/" exclaimed they all, in full and
hearty chorus, as they rushed up to the counter in
a body, and each took a handful of cigars with a
" Thank you, Chaplain !" leaving their literary
umpire to pay the bill-which, for the credit of
his cloth, I am told he did.



IT is a self-evident truth that, if you want men
to fight well, you must feed them well.
Of provisions, Uncle Sam usually gave us a suffi-
ciency; but the table to which he invited his boys
was furnished with no delicacies and but little
variety. On first entering the service, the drawing


of rations was quite an undertaking, for there were
nearly a hundred of us in the company, and it
takes quite a weight of bread and pork to feed a
hundred hungry stomachs. But after we had been
in the field a year or two, the call of "Fall in for

ii I


your hard-tack!" was leisurely responded to by
only about a dozen men-lean, sinewy, hungry-
looking fellows, each with his haversack in hand.
I can see them yet, as they sat around a gum
blanket spread on the ground, on which were
a small heap of sugar, another of coffee, and
another of rice, may be, which the corporal was
dealing out by successive spoonfuls, as the boys
held open their black bags to receive their portion,
while near by lay a piece of salt pork or beef, or
possibly a dozen potatoes.
Much depended, of course, on the cooking of
the provisions furnished us. At first we tried a
company cook; but we soon learned that the say-
ing of Miles Standish-" If you want a thing to be
well done, you must do it yourself; you must not
leave it to others"-applied to cooking quite as well
as to courting. We therefore soon dispensed with
our cook, and though, when we took the field,
scarcely any of us knew how to cook so much as a
cup of coffee, a keen appetite, aided by that necessity
which is ever the mother of invention, soon'taught
us how bean soup should be made and hard-tack
As I write, there lies before me on my table an
innocent looking cracker, which I have faithfully
preserved for years. It is about the size and has

the appearance of an ordinary soda biscuit. If you
take it in your hand, you will find it somewhat
heavier than an ordinary biscuit, and if you bite
it--but, no ; I will not let you bite it, for I wish to
see how long I can keep it. But if you were to re-
duce it to a
;'' "i fine powder,
*.* you would
Find that it
Should absorb
a greater
-- --- quantity of
water than an
equal weight
of ordinary
... / flour. You
would also
: -- observe that
Sit is very
."hard. This
you may,
p perhaps,
7- think is to
be attributed
to. its great
age. But if
you imagine
-that its age
is to be meas-
AND RI. ured only by
the years which have elapsed since the war, you
are greatly mistaken; for there was a common
belief among the boys that our hard-tack had been
baked long before the commencement of the Chris-
tian era! This opinion was based upon the fact
that the letters B.C. were stamped on many, if not,
indeed, all of the cracker boxes. To be sure, there
were some skeptics who shook their heads, and
maintained that these mysterious .letters were the
initials of the name of some army contractor or in-
spector of supplies, but the belief was wide-spread
and deep-seated that they were certainly intended
to set forth the era in which our bread had been
For our hard-tack were very hard. It was dif-
ficult to break them with the teeth. Some of them
you could not fracture with your fist. Still, there
was ah immense amount of nourishment in them -
when once you had learned how to get at it. It
required some experience and no little hunger to
enable one to appreciate hard-tack aright, and it
demanded no small amount of inventive power to
understand how to cook hard-tack as they ought
to be cooked. If I remember correctly, in our sec-
tion of the army we had not less than fifteen differ-
ent ways of preparing them. In other parts, I
understand, they had discovered one or two more



ways; but with us, fifteen was the limit of the
culinary art when hard-tack was on the board.
On the march they were usually not cooked at
all, but eaten in the raw state. In order, however,
to make them somewhat more palatable, you simply
cut down a slice of nice fat pork, laid the pork on
your cracker, put a spoonful of brown sugar on top
of the pork, and you had a dish fit for a--sol-
dier. Of course, the pork had just come out of the
pickle, and was consequently quite raw. When we
halted for coffee, we sometimes had fricasseed
hard-tack-prepared by toasting them before the
hot coals, thus making them soft and spongy. If
there was time for frying, we either dropped them
into the fat in the dry state, and did them brown
to a turn, or soaked them in cold water and then
fried them, or pounded them into a powder, mixed
this with boiled rice or wheat flour, and made
griddle-cakes and honey. (The honey, however,
was usually dispensed with till "this cruel war"
was over. Brown sugar was good enough for a
soldier.) When, as was generally the case on a
march, our hard-tack had been broken into small
pieces in our haversacks, we soaked these in water
and fried them in pork fat, stirring well, and sea-
soning with salt and sutler's pepper, thus making
what was commonly known as a hishy-hashy,"
or a "hot-fired stew."
But, to my mind, the great triumph of the culi-
nary art in camp was a hard-tack pudding. This
was made by placing the biscuit in a stout canvas
bag and pounding bag and contents with a club on
a log, until the biscuit were reduced to a powder.
Then you added a little wheat flour (the more the
better), and made a stiff dough, which was rolled
out on a cracker-box like pie-crust. Then you cov-
ered this all over with stewed dried apples, dropping
in here and there a raisin or two, just for auld
lang syne's" sake. The whole was then rolled
together, wrapped in a cloth, boiled for an hour or
so, and eaten with wine sauce. Usually the wine
was omitted and hunger inserted in its stead.
Thus you see what vast and unsuspected possi-

abilities reside in this innocent looking three-and-a-
half inch square hard-tack lying here on my table
before me. Three like this specimen made a meal,
and nine were a ration; and this is what fought the
battles for the Union.
The army hard-tack had only one rival, and that
was the army bean. A small, white, roundish, soup
bean it was, .such as you have no doubt often seen.
It was not so plastic an edible as the hard-tack, in-
deed, nor susceptible of so wide a range of use ; but
the one great dish which might be made of it was so
excellent that it threw hishy-hashy and hard-tack
pudding quite into the shade. This was "baked
beans." Of course, bean soup was very good, as it
was also very common -but, oh, baked beans "
I had heard of the dish before, but had never
even remotely imagined what toothsome enjoyment
lurked in the recesses of a camp-kettle of beans
baked after the orthodox backwoods fashion until,
one day, Bill Strickland, who hailed from the lum-
ber regions, where the dish was no doubt first in-
vented, invited me to a breakfast of baked beans
prepared by himself. Now, if my good reader has
ever eaten baked beans, I need not prove to him
that they are good; and if he has not, then I can
not prove it. The only trouble with a camp-kettle
of this delicious food was, that it was gone so soon.
How did it go so soon? It was something like
Father Tom's quart of ale, -" an irrational quan-
tity, indade; for it was too much for one and too
little for two "
Still, too much of a good thing is too much;
and one might get too much of beans (except in
the state above described), as you will find if you
ask some friend or acquaintance who was in the
war to sing you the song of The Army Bean."
And remember, please, to ask him to sing the re-
frain to the tune called "Days of Absence," and
to pull up sharp on the last word:

"Beans for breakfast,
Beans for dinner,
Beans for supper-

(To be continued.)



DEAR Polly, these are joyful days !
Your feet can choose their own sweet ways;
You have no care of anything.
Free as a swallow on the wing,
You hunt the hay-field over
To find a four-leaved clover.

But this I tell you, Polly dear,
One thing in life you need not fear:
Bad luck, I 'm certain, never haunts
A child who works for what she wants,
And hunts a hay-field over
To find a four-leaved clover!




/ i- ,' --

'.'*t\I L- 'h

* 2 '

The little leaf is not so wise
As it may seem in foolish eyes;
But then, dear Polly, don't you see,
Since you were willing carefully
To hunt the hay-field over,
You found your four-leaved clover!

Your patience may have long to wait,
Whether in little things or great,
But all good luck, you soon will learn,
Must come to those who nobly earn.
Who hunts the hay-field over
Will find the four-leaved clover.

L _~_~_~ ___~~~_I__ ___ ______

,- -r. .-'- "^ f 'q-. --: ~ ,7 ," .... "'-^ ^ "-. '"w
', ' "[ ' L -. 6-. :. ] -""- ..... : '- : : -.- : - "' -
I '-- J "; .. .. ..... ---S t. o. -'oJ '"

;s_. .-n
L,. .[ ~i .e -:- - -.







THE exclamation of Jack Lawrence was caused
by the sight of water directly ahead. They had
been walking away from the camp, at right angles
to the course of the river, and he naturally sup-
posed, as did all the others, that they were upon
the main-land. Advancing through the wood, they
presently found, however, that they were still sep-
arated from the main-land by an arm of the over-
flow, fully a half-mile wide. This, they presumed,
marked the limit of the flood in that direction.
The long stretch of forest and open meadow
upon which they had landed was, after all, only a
large island.
After gazing awhile at the turbulent river that
effectually barred their further progress, Jack phil-
osophically remarked:
I am sure you two feel like eating some ten-
der roast meat, and I guess Mr. Wheeler has some
ready for us by this time."
And so saying, he turned about and started
toward camp, pursuing, however, a different
course from that followed when leaving it.
But this ramble through the woods was destined
to afford them more surprises than they suspected.
They had probably passed half the intervening dis-
tance, when bright-eyed Dollie called out:
Oh, is n't that funny ? There 's a house !"
Such was the fact. Partly concealed by trees,
they all now saw a log cabin, of the class common
to the poorer districts of the South-west. It was
small, containing only two rooms, and there was
no evidence of the adjoining ground having been
The party had come upon the cabin from the
front, on which side were a closed door and a small
window, without any panes. This window was
.open and without curtain; but though they all
looked in, they could discover no traces of present
I guess the owners must have gone away,"
-said Dollie, or they would show themselves."
"You are mistaken, Dollie; some one must
live there," replied Jack, who, happening to glance
upward at that moment, had observed a thin col-
umn of smoke rising from the wooden chimney.
His first impulse was to proceed toward the boat,
without pausing to inquire into the condition of

any one who might be within; but his conscience
told him that would not be right. Somehow or
other, since Jack's rescue of Mr. Wheeler and his
family, he began to feel as though he were a young
Crusader. He had a mission which, if not so
grand as that which led the mailed knights of
King Richard and Godfrey of Bouillon into Pal-
estine, was equally noble. For hundreds of miles
along the overflowing Mississippi there were mul-
titudes perishing from starvation and exposure;
and, since some slight means had been placed at
his command, he felt that he was in duty bound
.to do what he could to relieve the sufferings of
any who might be more unfortunate than himself.

Z -- Z ,,



r .I i, _. l

"Stay here where you are," he said, address-
ing the little girls, "while I go forward and see
whether any one needs our help."
Jack then knocked smartly on the door, though
the latch-string was hanging out. Receiving no
answer, lie repeated the summons, when, instead
answer, hie repeated the summons, when, instead

*Copyright, 1883, by Edward S. Ellis.



of being bidden to enter, he heard some one shuf-
fling across the floor to the door, which was opened
the next minute, and the occupant of the cabin
stood before the startled boy.
He was a man who was really younger than
Mr. Wheeler, but he stooped over, as he walked,
like a man of fourscore. His face was wan and
haggard, and his large black eyes shone with
feverish luster. His grizzled beard was short and
scraggy, and his long black hair was unkempt.
He held to the door for support, and stared won-
deringly at the lad before him as he asked, in a
weak voice:
Where did you come from?"
I came down the river in a boat," replied Jack,
"and thought may be I could help you. Are you
ill? "
Yes, ill for the want of food," said the man.
"I have been deserted and betrayed, and have
given up hope. Why do you come to disturb
me ?"
"I have just told you," said Jack, who feared
that the man was out of his mind, probably on
account of his sufferings.
"Did you fire that gun I heard a few minutes
ago ? questioned the stranger.
"Yes, sir," replied jack.
I thought it was a dream of mine," continued
the man. "I was dozing by the fire, and when I
heard that, I got up and looked out of the window.
But as I did n't see any one, I concluded that I had
been mistaken."
You were not," said Jack; it was I, and I am
glad to say I can give you the food which you
seem sorely to need."
The poor fellow stared at Jack like a wild man,
and began breathing faster and harder, as though
laboring under great and increasing excitement.
Jack began to feel uneasy, and recoiled a step
or two, still keeping his eyes fixed on the strange
Suddenly, the latter gave utterance to a half
shriek or shout, and, springing through the door,
he seized the arms' of the boy with a grip that
made him wince with pain.
Jack was how sure the man was crazy, and was
greatly frightened. Both Dollie and Jennie began
crying, and the former exclaimed:
Please don't hurt Jack, for he is a good boy,
and will bring you something to eat."
The stranger paid no attention to her remon-
strance, but continued staring savagely at the boy,
as though about to rend him like a wild beast.
Then he stooped down, so as to bring his face close
to Jack's, and asked in a low, intense voice:
Did I understand you to say you could give
me something to eat? "

The man's strange conduct was enough to ter-
rify any one, but Jack strove to conceal his trepi-
dation. He had heard his father say that one
should never show fear in the presence of an insane
person, and that the only way to conquer such
people is by the force of a stronger will. There-

- .


fore, though hardly able to refrain from crying out
with the pain caused by the vise-like grip on his
arm, he replied in a bold, stern voice:
Of course, I can give you food; but you sha'n't
have it if you don't behave yourself."
The man did not loosen his clutch, nor did he
remove his glaring eyes from the face of the boy.
The latter felt that he could not stand the torture
any longer, and by a violent jerk he wrenched
himself free. Then, springing back several steps,
he called out in a savage voice:
"Don't you put your hands on me again or
you '11 get hurt "
These threatening words were accompanied by
a bravado of manner that would have deceived no
one but a lunatic; but when Jack, himself com-
prehending this fact, ran for his gun which he had
left leaning against a tree, and, raising it, held it so
that he could use it the instant it should be needed,
the starving stranger seemed suddenly to feel that
he was standing before his master.
His whole demeanor changed. Trembling from
head to foot, he looked so pitifully at the boy, that
Jack's feeling of resentment and fear vanished on
the instant.
Don't shoot! don't shoot! begged the man;
I did n't intend to hurt you- I only wanted to
look at you. You remind me of a little boy that I
once had-but he is gone now. Such a long time
ago. I thought you were my Frank; but no, it
can not be. Did you say you would give me some-
thing to eat ?"
Yes," replied Jack, heartily, no longer fearing
any violence. I will give you as good a meal as
you ever ate in all your life. So come out of your
house and go with me."




At this instant, the man noticed the two girls for
the first time and fixed his eyes upon them.
"Why, I have seen them before," he said to
himself, and immediately began walking slowly
toward them. Upon this, Dollie and Jennie
screamed and started on a run for the shore.
In their haste they fell several times, which only
added to their fright.
Jack saw that he must interfere, and so he called
out in a commanding voice:
Stop! Never mind about those girls. Walk
along with me, and I'll take you where you can
get a good supper."
The man checked himself abruptly, gazed at the
boy, and then said meekly:
"I beg pardon. I did n't know what I was
doing. Yes, I will go with you; show me the way."
Walk straight ahead, not too fast, and I will
tell you when to turn," replied Jack.

I believe there is nothing the matter with him
but hunger,--craving, gnawing hunger,-unless it
may be he has been frightened by something. But
it wont do for him to gormandize on roast pig,
which can not be called the most digestible of
food. Give him some bread first, and then I will
take him in hand."
Mr. Wheeler's prudent suggestion was carried
out. The stranger, in the presence of the com-
pany, was the picture of meekness. He did what
he was told to do, and showed a childish fear of
displeasing his new-found friends. Although he
was evidently ravenously hungry, yet he stopped
eating when told to do so, and appeared at all
times to be anxiously awaiting orders.
The meal finished, it was decided to keep on
down the river until dark, when, if they chose,
they could land and encamp for the night. Several
hours of daylight yet remained; and, although it


The stranger did as directed, and the entire
party then proceeded on their way toward the boat.
All the way to camp, Jack could not help recall-
ing the words of the man, when he declared he was
ill from starvation, and that he had been deserted
and betrayed.

WHEN Jack and his party reached the camp, they
found that the interesting process of roasting the
pig was just completed. Mr. Wheeler, as soon as
Jack had put him in possession of the facts con-
nected with the finding of the stranger, studied
the man intently for a few moments, and then
remarked :

was a question whether anything would be gained
by leaving the island, it seemed certain nothing
could be lost.
Their patient, if such he might be called, was
eager to accompany them, and, though they felt
a little shy of him, they knew it was their duty to
care for him. So he was placed in the stern, the
others entered, and they shoved off. They were
scarcely clear of the shore when the stranger was
found to be in a sound slumber.
It is the best thing for him," said Mr. Wheeler,
much pleased. If nothing else is the matter with
him, complete rest and freedom from anxiety will
soon restore him."
There was hope on the part of all that they
would be able to hail some steamer before night;
and so, while Jack, Crab, and Mr. Wheeler took





turns in using the paddle, the others scanned the own history. He was a gentleman of means, whose
waters for the hoped-for sight. Soon afterward home was in Little Rock, the capital of the State.

they saw two steamers laboriously working their
way up the river, but they were so far to the
eastward that it was impossible to attract their
notice. The scow was paddled further out into
the river, and when, just as night was closing in,
a third was discovered steaming southward at full
speed, strenuous efforts were made to attract her
attention. But for the "ntherin r dirkneS thP-
probably would have s, .:.:.... ).... .-- r -. .:
missed the opportunity n ,-I.. I, fl r .aI'. ri .-
tions were expressed b) .,ll
W e came so near s,...... 1 .:..t.
"that we forget the rl il:. l,. i '.. ,
present comparative cooli .. r .. .. r i. 1 .,,
ily suffered a great
deal, it is true, but
it may be that our
sufferings were far
less than those of
this poor fellow."
At this point, Mrs. -
Wheeler nudged-
him, and whispered: --
"He is awake, -;-
and I think he in-
tends to say some-
thing." .
The actions of the -
stranger were now -
watched with much _
interest by all. He
was sitting bolt
upright, carefully --
studying the faces
of those around him.
He looked first at
one and then at an- MR. WHEELER BECOMES
other, and then he gazed abstractedly at the flood
on which they were drifting. A moment later he
pressed his hand to his forehead. It was evident
he was trying to solve the question as to how he
came to be with these strangers. All at once his
haggard visage lit up with a pleasant smile, and,
gently touching the arm of Mr. Wheeler, he said:
Please tell me how it all happened."
"He is the one to tell the story," said Mr.
Wheeler, indicating Jack Lawrence.
"Ah; I will be extremely obliged if you will
enlighten me," said the stranger, turning to the
boy. His manner, more than his words, convinced
Jack that he was himself again.
The lad told the story, which, as may be sup-
posed, was of intense interest to his hearer, who
was profuse in his thanks.
When the narrative was completed, he gave his

He had started on horseback to visit some lands
which he intended buying. He had dressed him-
self plainly, as he feared he might be brought into
contact with dangerous characters, and was in
this section when he found himself caught by the
flood. Like nearly every one who lived in
the threat- ened region, he had no
npinr-inn of the unprecedented
ii which the over-
flow would extend.
S When he took ref-
uge in the settler's
'. cabin, and they told
.- him he was as se-
cure there as if in
the ritvnf St L.nlui


he gave himself no
furtherconcern. lHe
was tired and worn
out, and, without
waiting for supper,
lay down to sleep.
But the settler and
his family were
among the few who
appreciated the im-
pending danger.
During the night
they gathered a few
of their household
goods, took the
horse belonging to
Mr. Strawton (their
stranger guest), and
made their way to
the water on the
westward, where

they crossed to the main-land in a large scow be-
longing to themselves. The torrent which had made
an island of the tract of land where the cabin stood
had not yet forced its way through when Mr.
Strawton had ridden across the space in the mid-
dle of the afternoon; but it had appeared within
an hour after, and, when paddled over by the settler
and his family, must have been fully a hundred
yards in width.
Strawton slept heavily, and did not awake until
long after day, and several hours more elapsed
before he was fully acquainted with what had
happened. When he saw that he had been de-
serted and betrayed, his indignation knew no
bounds. But he was unable to help himself, for
the only boat that could have taken him to the
main-land was gone. It must have cost the settler
and his family a great deal of work to get the lum-


being craft from the river through the cut-off to
the rear of the island, but they had succeeded.
Strawton shouted and fired his gun, but saw no
living person for days. He went down to the
shore of the river, in the hope of attracting the
attention of some steam-boat, but they were all so
far out that he failed. He finally gave up in de-
spair, and went back to the cabin to die.
How long he had been there when Jack Law-
rence, like a gallant Crusader, came to his rescue,
he could not even guess; but judging from his
sad condition when found, it must have been a
number of days.
While Mr. Strawton was talking, night had set
in and it was becoming quite dark. Jack was
standing erect, paddle in hand, gazing on the face
of the speaker, which was gradually growing more
dim and misty in the gloom, when all were some-
what startled by hearing a voice shouting:
Halloo, there, strangers Can't you take us
aboard? "
Only a short distance from them was the broken
roof of a house, on which a man was seen standing,
with a long pole or paddle in his hand, which he
had probably been using to impel his awkward
craft toward the scow. Near him sat his wife, with
a baby in her arms. The group and the surround-
ings reminded both boys in the same instant of the
plight in which they had found the Wheeler family.
Jack stared for a moment at the strangers, and
then was about to paddle toward them, when Crab
"It's my turn," said he. You picked up dat
wild man, and now I '11 gather in some folks dat
are tame."
Jack did not object, and so Crab, taking the
paddle, moved the boat in the direction of the
party on the roof, who watched their approach
with no little anxiety.
The scow was laid alongside the floating roof
without difficulty, and the three were taken aboard.
The man shook hands all around and expressed
his obligations, but his wife, with bowed head, took
the seat proffered her, and remained silent. She
seemed to be weighed down by sorrow, and all
regarded her with sympathy.



"OUR lot has been a sad one," presently said
the man just picked up, his remark being intended
as an explanation of his wife's apparent sorrow.
"We have been on the river for two days and
nights; we had time enough before starting to
snatch up a little food and some extra clothing,

but it rained the first night, and we suffered a
good deal.
When we began sailing down the river, we had
our little boy, Harry, six years old, as well as the
baby, Katie. I made up the best sort of bed I
could for them, but when morning came, and we
could again see one another, Harry was gone "
What had become of him ?" inquired Jack.
I do not know," said the man, with a sigh.
" He must have rolled off into the water during
his sleep, without being missed until daylight. We
must have been asleep ourselves at the time, or his
mother or I would have discovered it."
The story was indeed a sad one and secured the
deep sympathy of all.
"We have lost every dollar in the world," added
the father, "and we must depend on charity for
awhile to escape starvation; but what is that to
our other loss "
No one spoke in reply, for all felt that mere
words were of no avail. The silence had not con-
tinued long when it was broken by the most ex-
traordinary uproar. From across the water were
heard the bellowing of cows, the grunting and
squealing of pigs, the whinneying of horses, the
braying of mules, and apparently a dozen other
horrid discords.
When those in the scow had listened a moment,
Mr. Wheeler remarked, thoughtfully:
"That sounds to me as though it came from
some point below us, if not further out in the
"So it does," said Mr. Strawton, and all the
others agreed with them.
Our party was not long in doubt. A few min-
utes later a dark bank loomed up to view below
them, extending out into the great Mississippi fur-
ther than the eye could penetrate in the gloom
and darkness.
All presently discovered that a long cape pro-
jected from the western shore into the river, and
that this neck of land was swarming with domestic
stock that had taken refuge there to escape the
flood. Tormented by hunger and insects, they
rent the air with cries for relief which could not
be given. This was certainly not a desirable place
to land, but the scow was forced upon shore, de-
spite the efforts of the occupants to prevent it.
The boat, it will be borne in mind, was heavily
loaded, so that it was now managed with difficulty.
The single paddle was in the strong grasp of Mr.
Wheeler, and the pole was used by Jack. They
did all that was possible, but the swift current gave
the craft such momentum that it did not respond
to the abrupt turn of the current on the upper end
of this cape. As a consequence, the scow struck
the soft shore with such force that every one was



thrown forward. Then it immediately swung
around and began filling with water. A general
scramble followed, and all landed with little trouble,
though with wet feet. The boat was drawn up on
the beach, with a view of keeping it beyond reach
of the river, and then the company looked about
them. The scene was anything but a pleasant
The cape was not more than a hundred yards
across at the point where it joined the main-land,
from which it extended a furlong or more. A few
stunted pines were growing on the neck, which
was swarming with cows, oxen, pigs, horses, and
mules, who were in such torture from the pangs of
hunger and buffalo gnats that they were already
in a dangerous mood. In many places, they were
crowding and fighting with each other, and the
uproar was terrifying to the last degree. Grami-
nivorous animals, like those on the island, may be
driven to such a point of hunger that they will devour
flesh; so there was no certainty that they would not
attack the party from the boat, unless relief was soon
given. In the deafening racket, our friends could
make themselves heard only by shouting close to
one another's ears. The moment the party had

landed, Mr. Wheeler and Mr. Strawton hurriedly
removed from the boat all the clothing and food
it contained, as well as the boards that had been
used for seats.
Is there no way of escaping from here ? asked
the man they had last picked up. "Any place
would be preferable to this; these wild beasts will
soon attack us, I fear."
These words were shouted in the ear of Mr.
Wheeler, and he replied at the top of his voice:
"I am afraid not at present. The current is
too strong just here for us to work our heavy scow
against it; and as for escape by land, those mad-
dened animals occupy almost every foot of space
save the spot on which we stand. I fear that we
must pass the night where we are, and perhaps
daylight will bring relief in some form."
"I am not so sure that we could not manage
the scow," returned the man. "Come here, and
I will show you what I mean."
And he led the way to the spot where they had
left the flat-boat at the time of their hasty landing.
But the proverbially treacherous Mississippi had
stolen a march upon them in their brief absence.
The boat was gone !

(To be concluded.)

- .


/ j-4-A


i ~ ? --7

\ I fV
I,, I~rv

r~ r!








.. .i [' '


-.R -W Iw vo-
1E\_T ANOTrE4 LI, T/E -TjEj T4riE W TleEE

vCNE ciF
.)-I )-FLP 1
AV LYA1 pt. C 1C m E 4
I d' r-" '- -,- ". "
..A... -- -4 ,-'1. ,

x p d.-Y& Ui'9AYMDN D-TrNo DoWV ,M' ,vo -

0d1- BECAME A v3L 'N) TEao) t TE I-tkI A j

NJIE 0;AT ;R iZ'lY AjARJf AETf(i IN A EN ,
^ TEN*



pEN TIC(l(f TVMIr T T1OVuT PLAYIdC QolDp '4 LirEi
,: / A 0Y Ao 4 L...'. f 4N or GATE
SATflc r/LEk-9TPEU L fiqtfA QiEk T70) TO jff TH rf' f/ TAHEA THIAU v/E fJ-VEgN4

JvAN UER & gUl UNf guACtf TRYING PILL Totn/i Jf

-- 1

..,-, ,,,.. .. I -

4 r
'-,,' -;

ixj 01 NG u1- I EE NC4 IC T i '
F LE F LL.L< M n0c THE r:AX"Y,'T,-f TNE: -r EiRE 1 V
'Ve M'E\LY Al\"E'D 1CF LiVi-- ''ATH TA T- -
ooul PrIGWHT7 ) T4OE/ FLEEIj G O'l T6: E' L84
%Rer VrITHEP @t) vWTCAEJ LIMIG ud J A ^cE. ,
rNf FUiLL or PEAR E/TrE:T AT T*4E AAE )OdJi ,
"W.5dr VI) )!JE) FO A w T o- VE ATH ,

VOL. X--54.




ONE cool, cloudy September afternoon, many
years ago, Philip Moss and I, neighbor boys and
school-fellows, were sauntering down Hackberry
Lane, with our backs to the great Gypsy Woods,
where we had been investigating the nearing
nut-harvest. The ground was dry and firm, and
a faintly perfumed west wind gently rustled the
leaves overhead. Many of the birds had gone
south for the winter, and those remaining had
mostly stopped their idle singing to bustle about
and pack up for leaving. The crickets and grass-
hoppers among the grasses were singing away
merrily, unconscious (poor things!) that Jack
Frost would soon put an end to their songs
and their lives. The squirrels, too, were frisky
and chatty, apparently glad, as were we, that they
were to remain and enjoy the big nut crop. It
was just the kind of weather for a field and forest
ramble-for implanting in a boy's mind memories
and sentiments that would last him a life-time.
As we came down Pilgrim Hill, a covered wagon
turned from the highway into the lane and toiled
toward us. A man and a boy walked ahead of the
jaded horses. A cow was led behind the wagon.
After her trudged a great gray-and-white dog, that
at first we had mistaken for a calf. When we had
nearly met, the weary procession turned aside and
halted at the door of an old, deserted cabin that
stood a hundred paces from the lane, at the foot of
a wide, briery slope an open waste, over which the
cows of the neighborhood wandered at will. It was
a famous place for blackberries and black-snakes.
From the mouth of the cavernous wagon a little
girl sprang lightly into the arms of the man. A
woman followed more deliberately and was ten-
derly handed down. Her face and hands looked
very white in contrast with her black dress. She
must be an invalid, we thought. Curiosity prompted
a thousand suggestions, for strangers were rare in
that inland Ohio settlement; but the instinct of good
manners prevented us from intruding. We had
seen enough, however, to satisfy us that these people
had come from a distance to take possession of
the old cabin, which in our recollection had been
tenanted but once, and that for only a few months,
by a wood-chopper's family. We were not slow to
communicate our observations. Soon the new-
comers were the talk of the neighborhood. Sur-
mise and suspicion of them developed into wild
and cruel stories. The days of belief in witchcraft
were over, but I am disposed to think there was

a slight lingering taint of it in that community of
ours. The new people seemed shy and did not
go about introducing themselves. One day, my
friend Philip's grandfather, Uncle Joe Moss, a kind-
hearted though inquisitive old man, called at the
cabin when he happened to pass that way. He was
received by the woman with civility and the utmost
frankness. Her story was brief and straightfor-
ward. They had come from the eastern side of
the Alleghany Mountains, the State, county, and
town all being plainly shown in our school atlases.
The woman, a widow of a year, was named Mary
Rankin. Her husband, John Rankin, had been a
carpenter, and had died, after long :,ii, i-;. from
injuries received in a fall from a house-top, leaving
his family in poverty. Her children were named
Robert and Katie. The man with them was her
brother, Thomas Van Cleve. He was an invalid, but
his ailment was of the mind rather than of the body.
When his poor head became confused, he began
to wander about, and he' would take to the road
and tramp, tramp, tramp wherever a beaten path
might lead him. This Ohio estate (a long strip of
rugged land along the creek) came into her posses-
sion through her father--a soldier's inheritance
from the grateful country which he had served, and
which had bestowed it upon him because, perhaps,
it had nothing poorer to give. So she had come with
her loved ones and settled down here, hoping that
the land might yield them subsistence and afford
them a home; that her children might be reared
and educated in a quiet, respectable neighborhood;
and that new scenes and employment might benefit
her unfortunate brother and overcome his disposi-
tion to stroll. She thanked her visitor for the friendly
interest he had shown ; trusted his friends and neigh-
bors were all well and prosperous; prayed God
they would think kindly of her and hers; and, with
a cheerful faith in divine goodness, expressed her
belief that she and her brother and children would
be happy and contented in their new home.
Time passed. Few, if any, were the visits to
the shabby old house in the lonely lane. There
were no visits from it-whether because the widow
was too retiring or too busy, because she was not
invited, or because she was too ill and weak, I
can not say. Thomas Van Cleve was at first
sprightly and energetic. It seemed that he was
trying to make acquaintances and friends, though
he was not much encouraged. With his sister's
scrawny team and the implements brought from






Pennsylvania, he plowed a few acres of the best
land and sowed some wheat. But presently he
began to show uneasiness. The fit" was coming
on. One morning, he and his traveling companion,
the big gray-and-white dog, were absent-gone
on the road again !
On a cold, blustery Monday morning in No-
vember, after our school-master had arrived and
settled his awkward squad at their books, a knock
was heard at the door, and in were ushered a clear,
keen-eyed young fellow, followed by a timid, brown-
haired little girl. The boy carried an arm-load
of books, slates, sponges, and rulers. They were
Robert Rankin and his sister Katie. We all, the
children of substantial farmers, were clothed by
careful mothers in winter costumes, which, though
homespun and of clumsy cut, were snug and warm,
while the garments of the young strangers, though
clean, were pitifully scant, worn, and thin. During
the morning the new scholars were the objects
of our sharp scrutiny and whispered criticism. At
recess time they were more freely and familiarly
ogled and commented on. It was a trying ordeal
for them. The leading tormentor of the school, a
glib-tongued girl, began the attack with sarcastic,
cutting remarks that raised a laugh. She was
not long without allies. To the dishonor of the
school be it said that, of the twenty-five or thirty
girls and boys present that day, there was not
one to utter a word of remonstrance in behalf of
the helpless victims, who looked appealingly into
this face and that for a friendly glance, but in
vain. Even the teacher, a dull old man, did not
interfere. "For shame cried a voice in my
heart. But I quickly smothered it and joined the
laughing wretches. I have often heard that voice
since, like a whispering echo, when it was too late
to undo the wrong. I have reasoned about that
morning, too, and have come to the conclusion
that we were a pack of young savages.
When school was again called, the Rankin boy
was white with rage under the insults offered and
his sister was in tears. These were the children
a sick mother had brought over the mountains, to
be educated in a quiet, respectable neighborhood !
At dinner-time, Robert, after some hesitation,
left his sister at the school-yard gate and sped down
the road as fast as his legs could carry him. He
went to look after his mother, who was alone at
home, nearly a mile away. The distance was too
great for Katie to traverse in the time allowed. She
watched him longingly until he disappeared over a
hill, then, with a brave effort, entered the house,
and in her timid, gentle way essayed to make
friends with the girls. By this time a feeling of
pity for the forlorn one began to manifest itself.
Kindlier words were spoken. The shabby clothing

was seemingly unnoticed. But the knife had already
struck home. The smiles and the hazel eyes were
pleading for love, but the heart felt very sore.
Robert returned, hot and panting, with a kiss from
mother to daughter and a hopeful word.
That evening, at dismissal, the school relapsed
into the savage state. The strangers were attacked
with redoubled fury. At length the boy, furious
with pain and anger, his face deadly pale, and
grasping in one of his clenched hands an open
knife, turned at the gate, defied his persecutors
and dared them to utter another insulting word.
His sister clung in terror to his menacing arm
and with tears begged him to desist. Her prayer
prevailed. The savages, awed by the scene, per-
mitted their victims to proceed home without fur-
ther molestation.
Philip Moss was not at school that day. In pass-
ing by his home, I heard a muffled drumming in
the barn, and rightly surmised that he was helping
his father to winnow his grain.
The Rankins did not appear next day, nor the
next; but on the third Robert came, at noon, for
their books. Philip was present. He asked Robert
his reason for leaving school. The latter answered
by showing a note from his mother to the teacher,
asking that her children be excused from further
attendance, as she desired their presence at home.
But Philip was not satisfied with this. He sus-
pected something of what had taken place, and
pressed his new acquaintance for an explanation,
which was reluctantly given. Philip pondered the
matter awhile and then said:
"You and your sister come along to school.
I '11 stand by you. The boy who offers a word or
a wink against you without cause is no friend of
mine, and he '11 soon find it out. As for the girls,
I think I can answer for them, too."
I remember his words well. That day we were
engaged in our favorite amusement of playing
Indian." The conversation between Philip and
Robert was held at the door of the "wigwam,"
under the big oak tree that ornamented our play-
ground. The wind was sighing among the tough,
dry leaves overhead. Near by, with little blaze
and much smoke, a council-fire was burning.
A prisoner-" a hunter and trapper "-had been
captured on the confines of our hunting-ground.
He had been tried, and condemned to death by
burning at the stake," after being most basely
betrayed into making a gallant struggle for his
life by running the gauntlet." The "death-sen-
tence was, however, withdrawn through the inter-
cession of Philip, the chief of our tribe. He had
been our leader in Indian and other games for
more than a year and was known as King
Philip, Chief of the Pawpaw Tribe."



Cooper's novels had found their way into our set-
tlement, and the farmers' meager libraries bristled
with histories of Indian wars. Philip's title was
suggested by our reading in the New England
annals of the famous warrior of that name, to
whose courage and many virtues our school history
bore testimony. Quiet, earnest, brave, eloquent,
and persuasive, young Philip outranked all his
fellows. From the twelfth to the fifteenth years of
his age, or until he left school, none disputed his
sway. The whole school, both girls and boys, were
included in his tribe. The girls frequently joined
us in our Indian games. They delighted to figure
as "princesses," "queens," "squaws," and "pale-
face captive maidens." Beaded with red haws and
sweet-brier berries, and bedecked with flowers,
they shone in beauty among the "braves," hideous
in their poke-berry war-paint and turkey-feathers.
Philip excelled in all sports-- in leaping, in throw-
ing, catching, and batting the ball, in fox-chas-
ing, and in exercise with the bow and arrow. He
was not a wonderful scholar. Others led him in
the school-room, for he took only to such books as
pleased his taste. He was fond of natural subjects
and delighted in learning about the birds of the
air, the beasts of the field, the inhabitants of the
water, and the substances in the earth. For a boy,
he had much information of this kind. He learned
more reading at his father's fireside and in roving
the fields and forest than he ever did at school.
The next morning, the Rankin children were at
school. Philip had visited their home the evening
before and completed the treaty with their mother.
He met them in the road in the morning, accom-
panied them into the school-room, and gave them
his countenance and support. He issued no formal
proclamation, but without ceremony adopted them
into the "Pawpaw Tribe." Katie became a beau-
tiful "little princess," and was much beloved, while
Robert donned the war-paint as one of the most
highly respected "braves."
At ten o'clock, A. M., on the Saturday closing
the following week, there was a council-meeting of
the tribe at the school-house. About all the mem-
bers were present except the Rankins. In came
the braves and squaws, bearing baskets, boxes, and
bundles, and when they had all assembled, with
King Philip in the lead, they filed out and pro-
ceeded straight to the cabin of the Widow Rankin.
This they surrounded and captured without resist-
ance. Philip explained that it was a surprise-party.
His explanation was unnecessary. A dinner was
prepared for the hungry though happy tribe from
the materials they had brought. Besides, they
offered as presents to the widow and her children
many delicate, ornamental, and plain, useful arti-
cles, such as a rustic neighborhood might afford.

The mother hesitated to accept, but Philip insisted
in a most eloquent speech. He said the older folks
had just given what they called a donation-party to
the minister's family at the village, and that "The
Pawpaw Tribe" did not propose to be outdone.
Mrs. Rankin could no longer hesitate and with the
rest entered heartily into the spirit of the occasion.
A happy day was spent at the cabin, and for many,
many days thereafter a brighter light shone in and
around it. The invasion of the school tribe broke
down the barriers. Neighborly visits were fre-
quently made by farmers' wives and mothers, and
were returned. One day, several men, handy
with the saw and hammer, met by appointment,
and put the old house in comfortable shape for
the winter. Loads' of wood, ready.for the fire,
were piled by the door, and the stable-loft was
filled with fodder for the horses and cow. It having
been ascertained that Mrs. Rankin was a skilled
needle-woman, she was also given all the sewing
she cared to do and at fair prices.
In the spring, the widow had an offer for her
lands. Though the price was small, she was about
to accept it and move back over the mountains, for
the rough hills were apparently valueless, except as
a pasture range and for the timber on them. About
that time, Philip's uncle, Professor White, principal
of an Ohio academy which in a year or two Philip
expected to attend, paid the Moss family a visit.
The Professor was quite a geologist. On one of his
rambles in search of specimens, accompanied by
Philip, they traversed the bed of the stony creek
that wound through the Rankin lands. A rock
jutted out from a clay bank. The Professor broke
off a piece and examined it. He broke off other
pieces along the creek and examined them also.
Presently he observed, "It is the true grindstone
grit. The hills are full of it. There is a fortune here
for the owners of these lands." The valuable mate-
rial was piled up, one layer on another, walling up
the stream on either side. The Professor put a few
of the chips into his knapsack, and went on looking
after something else, more interested in getting rare
specimens for his cabinet than in opening rich mines.
But not so with Philip. He thought the mat-
ter over, informed the widow of the discovery,
and finally prevailed upon his father to write to
John Lennox, the quarryman. Mr. Lennox came,
took a look among the rocks, and pronounced the
material the best he had yet found. It was the
true grit and of superior quality. A few months
afterward quarries were opened, and soon their
products were distributed throughout the country.
Ponderous stones from the Rankin quarries whirled
amid the sparks and flashing steel blades in the
largest factories; smaller ones were turned by
farmers' boys in wood-sheds; scythe-stones made



1883.] THE SHIP IN THE MOON. 553

merry music among the meadow-larks and song-
sparrows, and Rankin whetstones squealed on the
edge of the woodman's ax from Maine to Missouri.
The widow's income from the quarries was large.
A new life opened to her and her children. Her
weak-headed brother, although he continued to
wander, now went about with money in his pocket.

"The Pawpaw Tribe" scattered as widely as
the famous products of the grindstone quarry. Its
noble chief went West, established a little tribe
that bore his own name, led a regiment into the
war, and died for his country. A year ago I went
to where his ashes lie, pulled away the weeds, and
laid a handful of wild flowers on his grave.


BY S. T. R.

MOST of the young readers of ST. NICHOLAS
have probably seen the sea, either at some one of
those crowded resorts,-Newport, Long Branch,
Atlantic City, Asbury Park, and Coney Island,-
or else at one of
the little hamlets -
scattered along -
the coast. And, ---
perhaps, some of __
these boys and
girls have seen
the curious sight
reproducedinthe_ -
lustration. Butas
I have never had -
the good fortune
to behold it more
than once, Iwant
to tell you of the
incident. ... -
One sultryAu- -
gust day, I left
the hot city with
a party of friends
and restful holi-
day by the sea.
Before night-fall,
we found a pleas- -)
ant place on the -
New Jerseycoast,
and after hearty
supper we hastened down to the beach. Crowds
of people were strolling up and down the board
walk that formed a promenade along the shore;
but we were tired, and so threw ourselves imme-
diately upon the sand, where we soon made com-
fortable resting-places in which to listen to the

roar of the surf and look out over the sea. Vessels
of all sorts and sizes were moving slowly along in
the twilight, and at last one fine steamer came up
out of the southern horizon on her way to New
York harbor, leaving a long cloud of black smoke
behind. As she passed by, she saluted the crowd
on shore with a deep, hoarse whistle, while the
people waved their handkerchiefs, hats, and shawls
in response. By and by, as it grew darker, the
throng dwindled, and at last we roused ourselves
from our rapt enjoyment of the scene to find that
we were almost alone upon the beach. We jumped
up, and were preparing to leave the shore, when
one of our number called attention to a faint flush
on the eastern horizon, and with one simultaneous
cry, The moon! we settled ourselves again upon
the sand in expectation of a magnificent spectacle.
And you may be sure we were not disappointed.
The color in the far distance, looking at first like
the glow of some great fire, gradually grew larger
and larger, rounder and rounder, until finally a
hemisphere of red light rested upon the farthest
edge of the ocean. Just at that moment, we ob-
served on the horizon a ship or sloop, seemingly
almost as far away as the ball of light, but moving
toward it. It drew swiftly nearer and nearer, and,
finally, at the very moment when the great red
globe drew itself wholly out of the water, the
ship appeared upon its face, with all sail set, the
whole outline of the vessel inclosed within the
circle of the moon.
It was only for an instant, and the dark sloop
passed out of the magic ring as quickly as it
had entered it. But we who saw it have never
forgotten the beautiful sight it gave us as it photo-
graphed itself for that one moment upon that won-
derful screen. And, though I have many times
watched for a repetition of the coincidence, I have
never beheld a second ship in the moon. Have
you ?





"OH, wont you purchase tickets, Mr. Poodle, for the ball?
We've engaged two famous singers, Signor Screech and Madame Squall,
And a lovely little German band to fiddle in the hall.
You can bring your charming family-we'd like to see them all."

Mr. Poodle looked considerate. It would be pleasant, quite;
Should one even not participate, 't would be a beauteous sight;
But, if I purchase tickets, my purse will be so light,
There 'll be nothing left for fancy-dress, so we needs must come in white,
And I fear, my dear Miss Shorthorn, that you would not think this right!"

Miss Shorthorn's manner froze at once. "It is a fancy ball;
If folks can not come in costume, they 'd best not come at all!
The expense of it would be quite too ridiculously small-"
And she looked at Mr. Poodle just as if he'd been a wall
Mr. Poodle meekly bowed himself out backward through the hall-
Then he murmured, with a pleasant grin, "Ah, pride will have a fall!"

The evening came, and-fancy it!-the Poodles all were there!
There were some attired in Persian dyes that looked both rich and rare,
And some in simple garments, most innocently fair;
There were some in high-necked robes, and some with arms and shoulders bare,
And two with fluffy trains were thought a very charming pair;
The crowd all turned to look at them, as they went up the stair,



And -hi-npered Only R-R-1ty tv

I 11-. Ir .r ,.- .1. I ri i h -


-. "
''4,, .z''*

And Mici- Clorthorn
.1i,.I ..i 1:,, v them ,
l, ,ii I,. gave a

-I,. '.I -1 h I'. .,ted had
1.. 1 : .....I r at, with
,,,n.1 ,,, i : .nd care,
i I,. 1-, .1 H I '-believe
I.. i n'- I..::;, by the
ii, d done
I'I,, II ,11





"WE 'VE such a lot of cunning chicks;
Old Silverwing came off with six,
And three are mine, and three are Dick's
Have you got any chicken ?

"You 've only one you always keep ?
And don't it cry, nor say, 'Peep, peep'?
Nor run about, nor go to sleep?
Why, what a funny chicken !

"And when you feed your other pets
It never sulks and never frets,
But rests content with what it gets-
Why, what a lovely chicken!

"How old is it? You do not know?
Older 'n me?-Why don't it grow?
I wish you 'd let me see it- /Oh
It's just a china chicken !"





(A True Story.)


FAR up in the northern part of the State of
Michigan, a peninsula, called Keweenaw Point,
extends for fifty miles into Lake Superior. Along
its western shore runs the main road, from which
branch many others, leading to the numerous
copper mines situated in this region-among
which the Calumet and Hecla, Allouez, Phoenix,
Delaware, and Schoolcraft are most famous. The
eastern shore, being still covered with wild woods,
is overgrown with thick underbrush, and inter-
sected here and there by short, swift streams.
During the week, the men of this peninsula are
almost all at work under the earth, and the coun-
try seems deserted, though many little wooden
houses and log-huts with shingle roofs dot the
region near the mines. But on Sundays men lit-
erally spring up out of the ground, and groups of
miners appear everywhere, enjoying the only day
they have to see the sunshine, the lake, the trees,
and the flowers.
Amid the dense forests to the south and east
grow quantities of berries and wild small fruits;
and on the morning of Friday, July 21, 1882, a
rmerry party of four children started into the
woods, expecting to fill their tin pails with blue-
berries before many hours. The children were
Mary Palson, a girl of thirteen; her younger
sister, Margaret Palson; Theodore Lorri, a boy of
nine; and his sister, Arminda Lorre, who was but
seven years old. They proceeded on their journey
in gay spirits and came ere long to the mouth
of one of the mines, called The Wolverine,"
where the father of the Lorres was employed.
Alas, for their day's sport! The father hap-
pened to see his children, and, fearful of their
getting lost in the dense woods, he bade them go
back to their home. All four of the children
obeyed his injunction; but on the return journey
they mistakenly followed another road than that
by which they had come, until they finally discov-
ered that, instead of bringing them nearer home,
it was really leading them farther and farther into
the forest.
After plodding patiently on for an hour, the boy
asked the three girls to sit.down and wait while he
searched for the right road. But his little sister
clung to his hand, preferring to go along with
him; and so the children separated in pairs. The
Palson sisters chose a path leading to the north,

and followed it all day and until they came at last
to the bank of a river, where they were found on
the evening of the next day, and returned in safety
to their home.
But the Lorrs ? They had not returned when
their late companions were brought in, nor had
any news been heard of them. Mary and Mar-
garet could only indicate vaguely the locality of
the spot in the woods where they had last seen
the brother and sister, as they bade them good-
bye; but several parties immediately started out
in search. The father and older brother of the
children, in company with friends, had been seek-
ing the missing ones during Saturday, and on Sun-
day night a party discovered the children's tracks
in the soft ground near a river. But they were
soon lost in the mud, and the most thorough
search in the neighboring woods proved fruitless,
while loud and repeated halloos brought no re-
Monday morning came and the children had not
been found. But now, large parties of men, sym-
pathizing with the parents' agony, began to search
the forest in all directions. Most of these, how-
ever, were miners, ignorant of woodcraft, and know-
ing little of the upper world, and so they discovered
no sign of the children, and many even lost their
own way, and found the path home with difficulty.
On Tuesday, by a generous action of the proprietors,
all the employes of the Allouez mine were given
permission to share in the search, and large num-
bers from the Calumet and Red Jacket joined
As the evening of this day closed in, a terrible
storm arose, and every home in the surrounding
country was filled with exclamations of pity for
the lost boy and girl who had to face the tempest
alone in the wilds. Gradually the men, wearied
and almost hopeless, returned with sorrowful faces
from the vain search, without having found even a
trace of the lost children.
Wednesday and Thursday passed, and still the
almost frantic parents had no tidings of their absent
ones. But on Friday morning, as a final endeavor,
all the men employed in the Calumet and Hecla
mines, together with many citizens of Red Jacket,
set off for the woods, where they were met by more
laborers from the Allouez, Centennial, and Wolver-
ine mines; and before noon of that day nearly




thirteen hundred men plunged into the forest in
search of the lost boy and girl.

It was while this army of searchers was scouring
the woods in all directions, beating through the
wild shrubs and tangled thickets, and frighten-
ing timid birds and animals with their loud "hal-
loo-oo-s,"that, in another part of the forest, a brave
nine-year-old boy trudged wearily through the
underbrush, carrying his sister upon his back.
---- -- -_ -- ___-


[.- -


N _z__-i

-- .' ._ --

Both their faces were pale and white with exhaust-
ion, and the little girl's bore the mark of tears.
But Theodore Lorr& was a plucky lad and had by
no means lost heart. He had kept up his courage
and cheered his little sister through all the days




and nights that they had spent in the woods, and he
had even thought out a way of escape, and planned
a route which he felt must bring them out of their
prison-for the vastness and shadow of a mighty
forest can form as strong and gloomy a prison, if
you do not know some way out from it, as was
ever made by stone walls and iron bars.
As he toiled painfully along on that afternoon,
with vision strained to catch some break in the
endless rows of trees that stretched in every direc-
S tion, he kept revolving in his mind a plan
i which he had made, and was as happy as
-- a lost boy can be when he found, by and
!- by, that the plan was working well. In
_I other words, he had resolved the day be-
fore to follow steadily the course of a small
stream which they had chanced upon, as he
knew that it must flow into a larger stream,
and that in turn into a still larger, until at
last some one of them would lead him out
Sof the forest! So much his wise young
head had taught him; and the reason of
his joy that afternoon was, that the little
stream had just fulfilled his expectation
and brought him to the edge of a larger
one-in fact, to a river. But, after reach-
ing it, he felt that he could make no effort
to follow it that day, for his sister was too
weak and tired to walk, and he himself so
weary and foot-sore that his knees seemed
ready to sink under him.
He saw a fallen tree-trunk near by, and,
making a little bed of dry leaves against
one side of it, he placed his sister upon
it, while he sat down upon the log be-
side her. And so they rested, while the
shadows grew longer and darker among the
trees. They spoke but little; but whenever
S Arminda seemed frightened or ready to cry,
Theodore took her hand in his and cheered
and soothed her by encouraging words.
"But," you will ask, "how did they live ?
What had they to eat ? "
In order to answer these questions fully,
we must retrace their wanderings.
After parting from the Palson sisters (one
whole week before they arrived at the rest-
ing-place where we have just seen them),
STheodore and Arminda wandered on, seek-
ing constantly for some path or road, until
KEN day began to fade. As the darkness closed
in upon them, little Arminda could not keep
back the tears, and her heart was filled with dread.
But Theodore was not easily frightened. Cheer
up, Sis," he said; "it'll be just like campin' out-
that's all," and he took out his pocket-knife and
proceeded to cut some bushes for a bed.


Mother wont like it and will be dreadfully
scared," said Arminda.
Well, I don't know as I like it any better 'n
Mother," said Theodore. "But I'm not going to
be scared."
Arminda, however, seemed to have something
on her mind.
"Did you ever see a bear?" she whispered, as
if she feared that Mr. Bruin might even then be
in the thicket and overhear
what she said. I saw a '
picture of one, once," she .
went on, and he was eatin' ." '
up a great big man. I guess
that man was scared, I guess 'i r
he was."
"Well, I don't let old Ih,
make-believe pictures scare ..'
me," said Theodore. i
Nevertheless, Arminda's '
words recalled to Theodore '
a certain bear story that a ,1
few days before had filled 1 i i .
him with delight. It was ",
not quite so pleasant now '.
to think of the great brown ....
bear that, according to the ',!'",
story, had crossed the forest i, ,
road and frightened a woman !
almost out of her wits, as she 4
was driving over to the Wol-
verine mine.
The woods were fast grow-
ing dark, and little Arminda
clung closer to her brother,
till at last they lay down on
some soft moss and leaves'
which Theodore had gath-
ered, and he told his sister I
to go to sleep. He watched
the stars and the moon,-
the same moon that was look-
ing down into the door-yard
at home,-and wished that
it could somehow show him
the way thither.
Meantime, the little sister
was breathing softly; and
soon these modern babes in
the wood, wearied with the
day's travel, were fast asleep.
The morning sunlight was just creeping into the
forest when Theodore awoke.
"Halloo!" said he, looking about him in con-
fusion at the strange surroundings.
Little Arminda started, and opened her eyes,
too, in a daze. "Why, I slept all night with

my dress on! Why, we 've runned away she
That's what the folks '11 say, I s'pose," replied
her practical brother, jumping up cheerily now
that daylight was at hand. And they '11 say we
ought to be whipped, too, I guess. But I 'd be
willing' to be whipped when I get home, if I only
could get there. And oh, but aint I hungry ? "
"So am I," said Arminda.

"Well, let's have some breakfast, then," sug-
gested Theodore. There are nice, big berries
all'round here. I see some. Just you wait."
He soon came back with an armful of branches
from the heavily laden bushes, and they both de-
voured an unlawful quantity.




I guess they '11 make us sick, such a lot," said
Arminda, in a cheerful tone; "but there 's a lot
more in the pails; and we must n't lose our
pails," she added. "And if we carry 'em home
full of berries, then they '11 like it better."
"We must pick our pails full," said Theodore,
"so that, if we don't find any more, we wont
starve." And he proceeded to fill the pails.
I 'm all skeeter-bites! sobbed Arminda. And
the spiteful insects had indeed cruelly wounded the
little girl's face and neck and soft, round arms;
and Theodore, too, bore many a mark of their
sharp stings. "Well, we must hurry and get
home," said he, and Mother '11 cure 'em."
So they set out on their journey, eating the big
ripe huckleberries from the bushes as they walked,
filling their pails, in case they should come to
places where there were no berries, and quench-
ing their thirst at the creeks and small streams
which they chanced upon at intervals. This day,
too, wore slowly away, and once more they made a
rude bed at the spot where darkness overtook them,
and slept as best they could. Sunday came and
passed. The little ones, walking hand-in-hand
through the dense underbrush, could find no clew
to guide them out of the wilderness. Yet all day
they kept moving on. When they looked up to
the tops of the tall trees, they felt lost and lonely;
and when they grew tired, the great stillness sub-
dued them, like the height of the trees. Now
and then, the chirp of a bird or the crackle of a
dead branch made little Arminda shiver and sink
her voice to a low whisper.
But that night the third which they had passed
in the woods they heard another sound far away
in the distance.
O-ho O-ho-o O-ho-o-o "
Theodore recognized his brother's voice and
shouted loudly in answer, Arminda joining. They
called again and again. But the wind was against
them. The sound they had heard grew fainter-
their brother was evidently moving away. At last,
only a poor little echo answered their cry, and then
the great woods seemed more silent than ever.
The next day, while they were walking along,
Theodore thought he heard a call, and they stop-
ped to listen. 'T was over yonder," said the boy.
" You wait here a minute, and I 'll go and see if I
can get a sight of 'em." He rushed through the
brake a few rods, shouting and calling, and at last
thought he saw a man moving among the trees in
the dim distance. But the figure soon faded from
sight, and, as Theodore turned to go back to his
sister, he found that, in his eagerness, he had gone
much farther away from her than he supposed. He
called and called, but got no answer. He looked
about him, faltered, stopped short. How far he

had run he could not tell, and the way back to his
little sister was lost completely in the bewildering
sameness of the forest. He plunged into the
bushes, first in one direction, then in another, but
seemed to get no nearer to the spot he had left.
He leaned at last against a tree, dashed his fist
across his eyes, and with a great gulp cried hoarsely,
" I have lost her "
But he would not give up; and he set to work
to find the path he had taken through the thicket
after leaving her. While seeking this, he caught
sight of a fluttering bit of rag on a bush a few rods
away. It flashed upon Theodore that here was a
guide: these bits of calico belonged to Arminda's
dress, and he had only to follow their lead to find
his sister. He took the poor little rags tenderly
from the bushes, and when at last he did find his
sister, the thrifty little soul insisted on putting
them, with other pieces that she had preserved, in
her own pocket, "as Mother would need them
when she mended the dress."
In the early dawn of the next morning, Theo-
dore leaped suddenly from the bed of leaves where
he was lying, and looked wildly about him in every
direction. He had heard it again, that far-off
" O-ho-o O-ho-o-o !" And what was that, now
up, now down, dancing in and out among the dark
trees? Could it be a light? Could it be the light
of his father's lantern? Yes, it was As the day-
light grew, he could distinctly see his father with a
lantern in the distance. But all his frantic shouts
failed to reach the searcher's ear, and, in his terror
at losing his sister the day before, Theodore had
resolved that nothing should tempt him to leave
her again. And this determination he kept now,
since he preferred to starve in the terrible woods
rather than save his life by deserting her.
In the evening of the next day came the storm.
The stillness of the forest began to be broken by
the stirring -and rustling of leaves, and then by
long sighs of the wind, that deepened into a groan-
ing and grumbling. Every moment the sky grew
blacker, and down among the shadows of the great
trees night had already come.
It found the two children at the foot of a pine
tree, near which (and, indeed, half-covered by the
boughs of the pine) lay a fallen trunk. Theodore
had chosen this as the best place he could find in
which to meet the storm; and on the lee side of
the fallen trunk he had made a sort of rude tent,
or covering, of loose brush that he had gathered,
weaving together the crooked branches that they
might not blow away. The poor little shelter was
ready none too soon; for by this time the wind
was tearing madly through the forest, bending and
twisting the trees, and hurling to the ground small
branches and twigs thick with leaves. Just as




heavy drops of rain began to fall, little Arminda
crept into the rude house which Theodore had
made for her, and drew close to the side of the
huge log, which lay between her and the wind.
The house was not large enough to hold Theo-
dore, too, and so he made his bed upon a stone just
outside. Down came the rain, while the thunder
drew nearer and nearer, till the forest seemed one
vast crash and roar. Through the dark trees the
children saw the lightning darting and dancing
over the sky. Arminda sobbed and trembled; but
Theodore comforted her by telling her not to be
frightened, for he was there with her." Perhaps
even his stout little heart would have quailed had
he not been sustained by his pride in his "house."
"What's goin' to hurt us here?" he shouted,
proudly, amid the tumult of sound. I like to be
out in the rain."
I like to get wet, too," Arminda answered,
weakly. it makes my skeeter-bites feel good."
The lightning by degrees grew fainter and the
thunder farther away; but all night long the wind
and rain kept on together. The children clung
to each other and whispered that they were not
Morning came at last, but still the tempest
raged. Theodore looked ruefully about him when
he arose, and resorted immediately for comfort to
the pail of berries he had wisely sheltered. I 'm
getting sick of this," he remarked to Arminda.
"We must get home to-day."
But alas for such hopes The whole day was
spent in patient but fruitless plodding over the wet
leaves, with the rain still falling, and that night
they had to seek their rest upon a huge, sloping
stone under the projecting boughs of a thick-leaved
tree -since that was the driest bed that they could
By this time, you may be sure, they were in a
sorry plight. Their hands and heads fairly ached
from the bites of swarming mosquitoes; they were
scratched and bruised by their scrambles through the
tangle of the underbrush; and though they man-
aged to keep their pails filled with berries, they were
becomingveryhungry for some more satisfying food.
Arminda was now too foot-sore to walk more than
a few steps at a time, and Theodore had to carry
her. Their clothes had become so soaked that
they were a heavy burden: even Theodore was too
weary to tramp very far in a day; and poor little
Arminda was almost sick with fatigue and hunger.
On the next day, however, they came upon a
brook and began to follow it as Theodore had
planned, and made what progress they could.
The wind had died down, and, save for the drip,
drip of the drenched trees, the great storm was
over. It left the little wanderers pitiably weak and

sore, but still brave and hopeful, and they kept
on their way along the bank of the brook, until, in
the afternoon of Friday, they reached, as we have
seen, the edge of a larger stream. Content with this
triumph of his new plan, Theodore prepared the
little couch of leaves for his sister to rest upon, as
already described, and sat down on the log beside
her. And when she dropped asleep from weari-
ness, he began to wonder how long it would take
them to get home by following the river shore, and
whether his poor little sister would have strength
to stand the journey, or he to carry her.

But a speedier deliverance was even then at hand.
It was on that day that the great woods reechoed
in all directions with the calls and shouts of thirteen
hundred men ; yet none of their loud halloos had
reached Theodore, as he sat upon the log that
afternoon, all unconscious that he and his sister
were the objects of such a great expedition. In-
deed, it was late in the day, and the army had
really failed like the other smaller searching
parties, having passed beyond or far to the side
of the spot where the children were now resting;
-and yet it had not failed either, as you shall
see. It so happened that four men belonging to the
searching regiment lagged behind their compan-
ions, and, failing to catch up with them, went
straying hither and thither, forgetting the chil-
dren entirely in their desire to rejoin their fellows.
But being miners, and having little knowledge
of woodcraft, they soon found themselves hope-
lessly bewildered, and had to confess that, instead
of finding the lost children, they were in the un-
pleasant predicament of being themselves lost in
the woods.
It can not be said that, considering how much
older they were, they bore this discovery with any
better courage than the children had shown. But
all they could do was to keep up a constant halloo,
in the hope that some of the returning parties
would hear them. This, therefore, they set about
doing as lustily as possible, but for a long time with-
out reply. At last, however, as they stood silent,
listening after one of their loud calls, one of the
men said: "Hark! What was that? Faint and
weak through the far distance came an answering
"Halloo-oo !" They moved over in the direc-
tion whence it came and again repeated their call,
and stopped to listen. Again it was answered,
more clearly this time, but on the instant one of
the men said, breathlessly, That is a boy's
voice "
They ran forward quickly, and before long came
in sight of the boy himself, and one of the party
shouted to him, "Who are you ? "
"I am Theodore Lorre," was the answer.




"Where do you live ?"
"At Allouez."
Is there any one with you ?"
Yes, my little sister."
Imagine the surprise and joy with which the
men discovered that they had at last found those
for whom all were seeking. Ragged, foot-sore,

bruised, and exhausted, the children still showed
that they had not lost their courage, and the men,
overjoyed with their success,-for few had hoped
after so many days to find the brother and sister
alive,-lifted them on their shoulders and carried
them till dark, when they encamped for the night
on the bank of the stream near which the little
ones had been found.
Early Saturday morning, they prepared to con-

tinue their way, and the whole party,- miners as
well as children,- being lost, a consultation was
held about the direction to be pursued. The
miners said that it would be useless to follow the
river, because it flowed into Lake Superior, and
would lead them farther and farther from home;
but the boy stoutly maintained that all the water
on that side of Keweenaw Point
] flowed into Torch Lake. At last,
persuaded by his entreaties, and
aware of their own ignorance of
the locality, the men yielded, and
slowly forced a path along the bank
down the stream, a course which,
Sto their great delight, brought
them ere long to a region where
they recognized several landmarks,
and whence they soon and easily
made their way to Calumet.
T. Meantime, in the town, parties
S were sadly preparing to resume
the apparently hopeless search,
when the news flew from mouth
to mouth that the lost ones had
been found. At first, the report
was not believed; but before night-
fall the miners, carrying the chil-
Sdren on their shoulders, came in
sight, and the crowd burst into
shouts and cheers of joy. A gen-
tleman took the little ones into his
buggy, and drove along the street
toward their home while the crowd
thronged about the horse and vehi-
cle clamoring for a sight of the
children, who had to be constantly
held up to their view and saluted
with cheers. A friend had run
forward to inform the almost
frenzied parents, who wept with
S joy on hearing the news; and
in a few minutes the father and
mother clasped to their hearts the
lost ones whom they had begun
to mourn as dead.
Theodore's boots could be taken
off only by cutting them away
from his feet with a knife; and,
as the poor boy had had his leg broken hardly a
year before, it seemed marvelous that he could
have endured all he did. Both children were ter-
ribly foot-sore, and several days passed before the
brave lad could leave his bed. For eight long
days and nights he had wandered with his little
sister, refusing, even to save his life, to leave her
a moment, lest she should be hopelessly lost.
And during the last two days, hardly able to drag




himself along, he carried her on his back. He had
shown through all that had happened a courage
and endurance that many a man might envy, and
it is good to know that, in the days following his
return, hundreds of friends and neighbors visited
the family, and in many ways testified their appre-
ciation of the children's bravery.
Through the kind assistance of a friendly corre-
spondent,* ST. NICHOLAS is enabled to show you
photographs of the two children in the clothes
which they wore during their wanderings in the
woods; and, looking at them, we seem to see in
the faces something of the brave and patient en-

durance that carried them safely through that ter-
rible week. Perhaps they were remembering it
all in those few minutes when they stood before
the camera; but, whether that were true or not,
the devotion and courage shown by this boy of
nine are truly remarkable and worthy of all praise.
And when we remember that his own wise little
head had really discovered a way out of the woods
before he was found by the miners, and that he
in fact guided them out afterward by persuading
them to follow the route he had determined upon,
we could not blame the sturdy lad for hesitating to
admit that he was really lost in the woods.

[WE are indebted, for the faithful and striking pictures of the LorrB children accompanying this story, to Mrs. Sarah J. Penniman, of
Calumet, Michigan, who made the photographs from which our engravings are copied. "A few evenings ago," writes Mrs. Penniman, in
a letter received just as the story is going to press, I went to see the Lorrb children, who interest me very much. It is difficult for me to
converse with the father and mother, because they are Swedes, and I am not very familiar with the Swedish language; but Theodore
interprets for me. A lady in Boston sent me a fine pocket-compass for Theodore and a dress for Arminda, so my last visit was especially
interesting. The lady was an utter stranger, and sent the gifts from the admiration she felt for the children after hearing the story of their
adventure. Some time ago, a gentleman in Cleveland sent Theodore twenty-five dollars and a suit of clothes in compliment to his bravery.
I am sure that the ST. NICHOLAS account of the children's week in the woods will greatly interest, not only the people of this locality, but
all the readers of the magazine.
In making the photographs, I had to reward the children for consentingto be taken in the garments they wore in the woods by giving
them a photograph of themselves arrayed in their Sunday best. They did not like the idea of 'those old clothes.' "- ED.]



"BEAUTIFUL thoughts make a beautiful soul, and a beautiful soul makes a beautiful face."

ONCE I knew a little girl,
Very plain;
You might try her hair to curl,
All in vain;
On her cheek no tint of rose
Paled and blushed, or sought repose:
She was plain.

But the thoughts that through her brain
Came and went,
As a recompense for pain,
Angels sent:
So full many a beauteous thing,
In her young soul blossoming,
Gave content.

Every thought was full of grace,
Pure and true;
And in time the homely face
Lovelier grew;
With a heavenly radiance bright,
From the soul's reflected light
Shining through.

So I tell you, little child,
Plain or poor,
If your thoughts are undefiled,
You are sure
Of the loveliness of worth;--
And this beauty not of earth
Will endure.





SHAKE, shake the branches
Make the beauties drop!
Pity 't is the reddest ones
Are always at the top !
Oh, what a merry chime!
(Sing all together!)
Trip in time and ring a rhyme,
In the autumn weather.

Shake, shake the branches!
Gather every one,
Rosy-golden rogues they are,
Ripening in the sun!

r "

-- ~---,

Tommy holds his apron white,
(Sing all together !)
Fire bright will roast 'em right,
In the autumn weather.

Shake, shake the branches!
Down, down they fall;
We 're to have a bun apiece
If we gather all.
Now we 're marching home again
(Sing all together !)
Let the rain fall amain -
We '11 not mind the weather!



1.JF ~ -

) J


-I -_


-- -e- e- p-wea oeroo old. JJ j aol 1 i/fold

t I g&iseco."





= .~d







AT the time when my companions and I were
boys, there was scarcely such a thing known as a
manufactured toy. The few of such toys as came
over to America were soon used up in the larger
cities, so that none of them ever came to the village
where I had my home. Our geographies told us
that large quantities of toys were made in Nurem-
berg, and we never ceased to wonder at that far-
away place where toys could actually be bought all
ready for use. How much labor, we thought, that
would save us if we could only get a sight of those
coveted toys from Nuremberg, so that we might
copy after them-for, with hardly a single excep-
tion, all the toys that we had we made ourselves.
Perhaps it was just as well that we did. Our
geographies opened with heavy arguments from
the iVorth American Review, The Journalof FEdu-
cation, Maria Edgeworth, and Pestalozzi, to show
that the book was so plainly written as to be eas-
ily understood by the most stupid pupil. The fol-
lowing titles sufficiently indicate the character of
the illustrations: "Railroad Car"-of the olden
style; "Freemen's Meeting Displaying the Flag of
'Equal Rights "; the "Hudson River, Palisades,
and Steamer Oregon"; "A Despot Giving
Orders" ; Indians Attacking the First Settlers ;
"Lion Carrying Off a Hottentot"; "Death of
Captain Cook "; Capture of a Boa-Constrictor ";
"Capitol at Washington," as it was originally
built; Portraits of the Presidents of the United
States "-Polk being the last, and ten the whole
number, instead of twenty-one, as at the present
A glance at our "children's book-case"-as
it is called to-day-shows that the best of our
books were: "Robinson Crusoe"; "Swiss Fam-
ily Robinson," and the sequel; "Paul Preston's
Voyages," with engravings; Captain Marryatt's
" Children of the New Forest"; "Hugh Fisher,
or Home Principles Carried Out"; "Letters to
the Young," by Miss Jewsbury; and Glimpses
of the Past," by Charlotte Elizabeth. Beside
these, we had the "Franconia Stories"; the
earlier numbers of Merry's Museum and The
Youth's Cabinet; and "Peter Parley's Tales."
This was the kind of reading that we had, in-
stead of the lighter kind, with beautiful pictures,
which almost every boy and girl of to-day can
enjoy. We had no such fine books in those days,

and we had no fine toys either. Do you wonder,
then, that we were, and that we grew up, old-
fashioned boys and girls?
As soon as we were well along in our studies,
our teacher made us spend a part of our play-time
in knitting with a spool. This is the way it was
done: Four pins were driven into the end of the
spool, close to the hole that runs through it. A
loop was tied in the yarn and slipped over the
head of one of the pins. The yarn was then car-
ried around the other three pins, and the work of
knitting was ready to proceed. A loose pin was
taken between the thumb and forefinger of the
right hand, by means of which a bit of the loose
yarn was pried up. It was then pulled through the
loop, put over the head of the pin that stood upright,
and pressed back to its place again. Another stitch
was taken at the next pin, and so on. After work-
ing in this way for awhile, the knitted part began
to appear through the other end of the hole in
the spool, where it would grow gradually longer.
When it was long enough, it was cut off and sewed
together in the form of a mat. Instead of a spool,
some of us were so much better off than the rest
as to have a cork, through which a large hole was
made. I will not draw a picture of this knitting-
machine, because it has lately made its appearance
at the toy-shops as a new invention, and for a few
cents you can easily have one that will be a great
deal better than mine ever was.
We boys soon became tired of cork knitting,"
"grace hoops," "battledoor and shuttlecocks,"
and other games, which the teacher had us play.
Such games we left for the girls, while we took up
marbles and tops. From that time, our sports and
games were as different as could be from those
which the girls enjoyed; and, if you will let me, I
will tell you how three or four of us-all under
the age of twelve-made our own toys and play-
things, and managed to have a good time gener-
ally, although we were obliged to do without
"store" toys. For the sake of convenience, I
will divide my story into chapters, in this way:

SOMEBODY has said that, when marbles, tops,
and kites make their appearance, we may know



that winter is over and spring has come. This is
truer of marbles than of the other things we have
named. The tops that we made were of two kinds.
The first kind was of the shape shown at Fig. I
(p. 866), with a spiral groove running from the
upper part down to the lower end, where a nail had
been driven into the wood and filed to a point.
The work of cutting this groove was difficult, for
it had to be very evenly done, or else the leather
string-or whip-lash-would slip over the point
of the top. When everything was ready, the
whip-lash was wound in the groove, and the boy
threw the top away from him toward the ground,
taking care to hold the lash and the whip-handle
in his hand. If the point struck the ground, the
top would keep on spinning for a little time; but
it would soon stop unless the boy whipped it with a
great deal of force, and even then it would stop if
he did not strike it in the right way. You will not
see many of these tops nowadays, because bovs do
not like to work so hard with a whip whI': th. :.v
play. Another kind of top (see Fig. 2) :. :.un
by wrapping a string around the hand:..,
was held in one hand, while the string w-;, [i..!!..i
with the other. The body of the top i:: -i:il
the point, and this made it spin for a lorI- n r,,
but we were careful to put the point clo:- .. r !.-
ground before the string was pull.:.:1. I. :
also made tops of \. large flat but',.:. .:..

short piece, fc, were fastened at the
center, g (Fig. 3). Notches were
cut in the ends of the sticks, and a
string was slipped into the notches,
at a, b, c, d, e, and f. Four ,
other notches, about g, were
made for the two cross-loops of -
string-the "belly-bands"- / hsale
to which was fastened the long
string that flied" the kite.
Other notches, at e and d, /
secured across string,which
held the tail. The whole / -- .- .
surface, a, b, c, and round
to a again, was covered --
with newspapers that
were cut large enough
to fold over the outer J
string, and to be se-
cured with flour-

r-, .- ,- I

S .i. -
r ., ..

= ---.., .

- I J *-


wooden button-molds (see Fig. 2), with holes in
the center of each. A broom-splint made the
handle, and, by turning the top over and making
a point of the handle, we enjoyed the antics of
what we called a long-legged top."
Our kites were very simply made from paper,
string, and three bits of lath split in two, length-
wise. For a fair-sized kite, two of the laths were
three feet long, and the third lath was two feet
long. The two long pieces, a d and b e, and the
VOL. X.-55.

kite, in our opinion, was the flying of a flag or ban-
ner of some sort. Of course, the flag or the banner
was "home-made." The flag was of white cotton,
red cambric, and blue cambric. The banner was
usually of white cotton, with some political motto
or sentiment, like We are all Whigs here,"
painted upon it. In order to float these flags or
banners, we were obliged to go into the woods and
cut small tamarack or hemlock trees. Having trim-
med these and stripped off the bark, we had very



smooth and straight poles, from twenty to twenty- had to go to the house after a drink of water and
five feet long. When we wanted longer poles, we some of Grandma's "jumbles," as a spur to indus-

cut two trees, and "spliced" one at
the end of the other. Then came
the fun of rigging a pulley at the
smaller end, through which the rope
or string that held the flag might run.
After that came the greatest fun of
all, the digging of a hole in the
ground for the planting of the pole.
When this was done we were ready,
and even anxious, for the next
political campaign to begin.



try. The deeper we dug, the less you could
see of us above the ground, and when our shoul-
ders were below the surface it was hard work to


AND in speaking of the digging .. -
of holes in the ground, I am re- .,
minded of larger holes, real exca-
vations, that we dug every spring ..""
for a number of years-for, at that '
time, we had never been told that
in digging into the earth we ran FIGURE 2. OLD-FASHIONED TOPS.
the risk of malaria. Our method of working was throw the earth up and so
very simple. Having selected a place that suited far away from the hole that
us, we marked upon the ground a circle of perhaps it would not tumble back



six feet in diameter. Three of us worked together,
and each took a shovel. For awhile the work
went on bravely. But it was not long before we


j7 .--i


again. So we covered f
all the edges of the
hole with boards, and,
7.:.. while one threw up
the earth from below,
4IMNEY another would take it
from the boards and a -R .
throw it further away.
Pretty soon the hole became so deep that
we could not throw the earth out. Then
we brought an old pulley-wheel, fastened
it to a beam which we had placed across
the hole, and dropped a pail into the
hole by a rope that ran over the pulley.
The pail being filled with earth below, it
was drawn up by pulling on the rope above.
In this way we went down to a depth of
perhaps ten or twelve feet, taking care to
go no further lest the banks should give way
and cover us. A rough ladder was then
made by nailing short sticks across a long
board, and on this ladder we were able to
go down to the bottom of the hole and to
come up to the surface again. (Fig. 4.)
But this was only a small part of the pleas-
ure of digging a hole," as we called it. After
enjoying the cool air at the bottom, we marked
the outline of an oven at one side, and dug with
spades and hoes until we had made a very large



Ji '


11 flU-


open space. Carefully measuring the depth of
the oven, we came up to the surface, marked off
the distance, and dug a small hole downward.
When this small hole met the oven, we built up
the top with bricks and called it the chimney.
-, -,--,-, ,
I )
I' ,, II

now ready for
"the bake." A
fire was built,
and while it was
-., roaring we gath-
5 -' ered corn and po-
KI| ; tatoes. Bearing
these to the oven, we waited till only
!i the coals and hot ashes were left,
and then, throwing in the potatoes
I and the corn and covering them with
S- grass, we waited till the bake was
'--- done. You can not imagine how
much better the corn and the pota-
toes tasted than any that we ever
FIGURE 7. had at the table. After two or three
fires had been built in the oven,
the earth became so dry as to
cave in-and this was always
the end of the hole." After\
that the gardener threw in
whatever rubbish he wanted to
dispose of, and there was noth-
ing left for us boys but to fill
up the hole. This was not as
much fun as it was to dig it- i
but we always managed to do
the filling, because we knew
that, if we did not, we could
not have permission to dig an-
other hole when another spring
came around. FIGURE 8. SOMl TRI


the size of the blocks until we were able to use
them when they were as small as an inch or even
three-quarters of an inch at the end. The first
thing, after trimming the stick so that it would be
perfectly square, was to dig out the four corners,
so that each end would look like Fig. 5, which is
made from what the lumber dealers call "inch
stuff." Once in awhile, when we felt too lazy to
dig the corners out with our knives, we had a car-
penter plane them out with his tools. Our next
move was to mark out the links so that they should
be of a uniform length. If we were working in
"inch stuff," the links were an inch and three-
quarters long; but if we were working in inch-
and-a-half stuff," the links were two and a quarter
inches long. You will see by Fig. 6 how we cut
each link away from the rest, and how the whole
chain was made out of a single piece of wood.
Great care was taken not to split the wood at the
place marked a. The links were very rough when
they became loose, and each one was smoothed
and afterward oiled. Sometimes we left the cor-
ners as they were at one end of the block and cut
the open spaces at b and c (Fig. 7). This gave us
a block which we afterward whittled into the shape
of a ball. At other times, when we had more of
the virtue of patience than usual, we cut from a
single piece of inch or inch-
and-a-half board a number of
', pincers, with joints at a, b, c,
and d (Fig. 8), that would allow
1 them to open and shut. An-
S other joint, at e, was so cut that
Sthe smallest pair of pincers
'1 worked at right angles to the
;I others. There were also small
chains of wood which held a
draughtsman's compass, a bu-
gle, and a pair of scissors-
the whole, as I have said be-
fore, being made from a single
block of wood.
UMPHS OF WHITTLING. What we called "buzz-saws"
were imitations of the circular saws at the saw-mills.
In order to make them, we first pounded the cover
of an old blacking-box until the rim came off. Hav-

WE spoiled or broke many a two-bladed jack- 0 '
knife in the process of whittling chains, etc., from ...
blocks of wood. The blocks (for a beginner) were
about an inch and a half square at each end
and a foot long. Pine was the wood first selected, .*sJ
but as we learned how to avoid breaking our FIGURE 9.
knives or splitting the wood, we took black walnut ing flattened the round part, we punched two holes
instead, because the links finished" more hand- through it close to the center and perhaps half an
somely. As we became more expert, we reduced inch apart. The holes were at the same distance



from the center. A string nearly four feet buzz-saw turned rapidly in the other direction.
long was run through the holes, and the ends By thus bringing the hands nearer together and
were tied together. One hand was placed then pulling them apart, the buzz-saw would twirl

in the loop a, and the other in as long as we wished. Of course, we cut teeth in
^ fo-t M,-H^

in the loop a, and the other in as long as we wished. Of course, we cut teeth in
the loop b (Fig. 9). The hands the edge of the tin, so that we could cut notches
being then about two feet apart, they were pulled in any bit of wood that we came across. But when
still farther apart. This motion caused the string we had such a toy, you may be sure that we were

to twist, thus bringing the hands nearer together, not allowed to use it in the parlor. We sometimes
Another motion of the.hands outward, and the made a safer and less noisy toy, similar in char-



acter but much smaller, by using buttons instead
of the cover of the blacking-box.
So far as I know, my grandfather was the in-

were cut-usually an advertisement-card of some
insurance company, the white side of which was as
good for our purpose as if the whole card had been

I il
Nf Z7--

T W, I,
Ewio [vuy ( m -,.;.7-
1 I 4pO^. L

k- -., '- C--.

TH -, .. L, ; GASA\ S T'PETEP-s CH URC,


ventor of the "flapjack"-a .I il i -;n that he
taught us to make and to use. The fork of a tree
was selected-the two branches being about eight-
een inches long and not more than one inch
thick. Near the ends of the two branches there
were cut notches, into vhich a double string was
closely fitted. A flat stick-a
little longer than the distance .
between the string and the place t0 i
where the branches came to- '.
gether-was slipped between i
the double string, and twisted \ I
until the shortened string '
brought the ends of the branch-
es very much closer. Then the o-
flat stick was shoved down a
little beyond the point where
the two branches came together.
The stick did not want to stay
in that position, and therefore it
was fastened to the fork with a piece of warm wax
at a (Fig. o1). Stoves were higher from the floor in
those days than they are now; and when the flap-
jack had been placed-stick side down-where
the warm air under the stove would strike it, the
wax became softer, and the fPpjack turned heels
over head with a great noise. And yet nobody
was hurt; for the flapjack simply made people
jump, because it jumped so suddenly itself.



OF course, we had a glimpse of a magic-lantern
once in awhile; but a really good lantern was
unknown in the neighborhood. Nor was there
any such thing as a stereopticon in existence. We
thought ourselves fortunate when -at the sugges-
tion of the older people-we were able to make a
"Thames Tunnel." Eight pieces of card-board

blank. Each of the eight pieces was six inches
wide from a to b (Fig. II). The height from a to
c was four inches; but we sometimes made each
card a trifle higher than the one before it, so that
the lower card-if they were laid one on another-
would be an inch more from a to c than the upper
card, or five inches instead of four inches. The
upper card was then cut in the manner shown by
the straight and curved lines in Fig. 11. The
second card was cut with the same figure, only a
trifle smaller; and so on-the eighth card having
the smallest openings of all. Strips of thin brown
wrapping-paper were pasted upon the edges of
the cards in the manner shown in Fig. 12, so that
the whole might fold together like an accordion.
This done, the next thing was to cut small ships
and boats from the illustrated papers, and to paste
two or three of them on each card along the upper
edge. Blue paint made these upper edges resem-
ble the water. Small men, and horses drawing
carts-which had also been cut from the papers
and adjusted within the curved openings-gave
the appearance (Fig. 13) of a great crowd passing
through the celebrated tunnel under the Thames
River in London, England.
But the painting of panoramas was a source of
far greater amusement to us. Of course, we painted
several, and I have time only to describe one,
which is a good specimen of them all. It lies on
the table before me as I write -a roll of yellowish
paper, that was originally white, wound upon a
round hickory stick (Fig. 14), eleven inches long
and half an inch in diameter. The bottom part
was an inch thick, and supported a tin plate. Heavy
wires or nails were driven into the bottom of each
roller. The opposite ends were provided with wire
handles, with which we turned our rollers. The
panorama itself was made by cutting blank sheets
of newspaper into three strips, and then pasting
them together. We thus had a roll of paper
nine inches wide and as long as we chose, on


-I ,. T -


i N TA.




which we drew the pictures that were afterward thatched cottage; a yellow country tavern, with
painted. Here is a list of a part of the pict- horse-sheds; an American railway depot; a land-
ures" in the panorama I have mentioned: "Fort scape in Italy-porphyry columns, overgrown

: .. {W W 5, L. I, --

GoA. CYAPERL. .Top-t. ,A 'LATOON Of SOLDiF-S[ CA oR.. <-Di,-,, j 5;,jiRC4t'_r ACT. [
McHenry bombarding the 'Mayflower'"; a mite with ivy; a castle, with draw-bridge and moat;
of a steamer, named "The Sunflower"; a light- views of Harvard College, and the Champs de
S- Mars, Paris; Niagara Falls emptying into the
ocean; an iceberg, painted dark brown; Minot's
Ledge light-house; the wreck of the schooner
"Hesperus"; again the "Mayflower," with a
green hull, red masts, and blue booms; Columbus's
vessel, the "Santa Maria "; a black, three-masted

house, on which was the sign "Rocks"; a girl
milking a very sick-looking cow; another girl
reading a book on the roof of a red house, with
a yellow cornice; the heathen in Madagascar
chopping off a rope and letting the missionaries
fall headlong on the rocks below; St. Peter's
Church in Rome; a bird's nest in a tree; a Chi-
nese fort; a Turkish soldier (taller than the tree
and twice as tall as the fort); the Grand Mufti
-who stands taller than the spire of a Gothic
chapel near by; a Chinese pagoda-into which
an American fort is firing cannon-balls; a platoon
of soldiers that are almost as tall as a cat and
kittens with which a chestnut-haired boy is play-
ing; a series of marine views-all shades of blue
water--including Gosnold's ship, red, yellow, and
brown schooners, pink steamers, and purple
yachts with red sails; the sinking of the steamer
"Arctic ; groups of cottages, with pink or purple
roofs and red or blue doors and windows; Wind-
sor Castle, as it was originally built; a grove
of peacock-blue trees; a "lone fisherman," all
in yellow; the ruins of Kenilworth Castle; a

I', -,

gun-boat-the only really artistic picture in the
lot; and, finally, the "Port of London "-a perfect
maze of vessels- which concluded the exhibition.

Only a part of the pictures are mentioned above
-for it would be too tiresome for any one to read
a complete list. When the panorama was to be




shown, the roll (Fig. 14) was placed in one end of pictures. One of the younger sisters, whom we
the box, at b (Fig. 15), and another roller just like called "Peggotty," was employed to J
it was placed at the point a. The loose end of the turn the crank, while some of "us

-' 0 -'"_'.t---l --- 1--- t --- -f -'--l

co A o T ..i. Nto OCE. p


panorama having been fastened to the roller a, the boys explained the views to '
crank was slowly turned, thus bringing the pan- the audience." This is the H
7 b way in which a certain juvenile paper of the day
--.J spoke of the performance :
S .. .1 ,. .I i 1' 'I' '. i "PANORAMA.-This panorama was exhibited last Tuesday after-
.... 'e' b noon at three o'clock. The place where the panorama was exhibited
'I was an unfinished room over the kitchen. A part of the room was
I divided from the rest by sheets; and a small hole, eighteen inches
S long and eight wide, was left in which to show the panorama. The
i r V'l audience consisted of nine persons, and the tickets were two cents
apiece. The first thing was the first house in Wilmington, N. C.,
Sand a moonlight view of a bombardment by Fort McHenry. After
crossing over a strip of water, we come into China; and after this,
Among other things, we have views of the following: Windsor
S_ ___ Castle; the house at Genoa, in Italy, in which Columbus was born;
.. _T__.,, l, ',l, '. -., l',,' ,I_. ,'m..' .:'. '','", the corner of a M exican temple; the first church that was built in
Cincinnati, Ohio; the mosaic temple in Benares; Gosnold's ship in
FIGURE 1S. 1602; some Indians; the steam-ship "Arabia"; a revenue cutter;
a Spanish vessel; an American pirate ship, and the port of London.
orama into view at c. At the rear were two or The panorama is nearly one hundred feet long, and I intend to have
another part to it, which will be composed mostly of views in the
three candles or a lamp, used to "light up the Eastern continent and in South America."
(To be concluded.)





ONCE there was a ver-y nice girl who lived in the coun-try. Her name
was Kate. She had a lit-tle sis-ter named Ma-bel; and Kate and Ma-bel
would play out-of-doors ev-er-y fine day. Some-times they took their
dog Car-lo with them, and he would leap be-fore them and bark with joy.
Then Kate would throw a stick,-oh, so far !-for him to catch. She could
throw a stick twice as far as Ma-bel could. If Ma-bel tried too hard she
would fall down, and then Car-lo would try to lift her up, and she would put
her lit-tle arms a-round his neck to help him all she could. Some-times
Kate and Ma-bel found flow-ers and ber-ries in the field for Mam-ma, and
some-times they would go to the brook and watch the lit-tle fish swim past.
Or else they would roll a hoo-ple down the long gar-den walk, or jump a
rope, or Kate would put lit-tle roll-er skates on Ma-bel and teach her to
But on rain-y days they would stay in the house. Kate oft-en had work
to do, or lessons to stud-y, but as soon as she had a mo-ment to spare, Ma-bel
would say, in a fun-ny, coax-ing way, "Now, Ka-ty, please'muse me." "Ver-y
well," Kate would say; I 'll a-muse you, you dar-ling. What shall we do ?"
Ma-bel knew Kate could do so man-y things, that it was hard to make a
choice. Play-ing stage with the chairs was great fun; so was look-ing at a
pict-ure-book; so was dress-ing the dol-lies; so was play-ing hide-and-seek;
and so was hear-ing sto-ries, for Kate could tell ev-er so man-y nice sto-ries.
But oft-en Ma-bel would not choose an-y of these things. No. She would run
in-stead, and beg her Mam-ma for some sheets of pa-per and the scis-sors,
and then Kate would laugh and say:
"Iknow what you want now! You want some pa-per dol-lies."
"Yes," Ma-bel would say, nod-ding her head and get-ting down on the
floor close to Ka-tie's feet, "I want pa-per dol-lies."
Then Kate would cut, and cut, and cut till Ma-bel had as many as she
One day Ma-bel looked out of the win-dow, and there sat a poor lit-tle
girl by the fence.
"What 's your name, lit-tle girl ? called out Ma-bel, as Kate o-pened
the win-dow. You '11 get wet there. Come in-to my house. It 's rain-ing."





But the poor lit-tie girl was a-fraid to o-pen the gate. She be-gan to cry.
"Don't cry! called Ma-bel. "Oh, Ka-ty, Ka-ty She 's cry-ing! "
Then Kate went down and brought the lit-tie girl in, and let her sit by
the kitch-en fire till she felt warm and dry. Then she and Ma-bel gave the
lit-tle girl some bread and tea and cake, and Kate found a bas-ket and filled


it full of bread and meat and eggs and tea for the lit-tie girl to take home
with her. And you may be sure the lit-tle girl did not cry then.
And Ma-bel put in all the pa-per dolls she had, and kissed the lit-tle girl
for Good-bye."
Come a-gain, lit-tle girl," she said, and Ka-ty '11 make you more pa-per



-_- ,- I..... ---' ',1 ,




my dears, it 's getting nearer and clearer every
day -the sound of that school-bell. But, before it
grows so loud and pressing as to drive all other
sounds quite out of hearing, we '11 have time to
look into the subject of

ABOUT fourteen years ago, Deacon Green tells
me, America's own poet, William Cullen Bryant,
wrote in verse a beautiful welcome to the English
sparrow- the "Stranger Bird," as he called it,
then a new-comer (brought over from England)
and an object of general interest. The little stran-
ger birds very soon made themselves at home in
our towns and cities. They went to housekeeping,
reared their families, chirped and quarreled and
struggled for a living very much as their biped
brother man did. Soon the country round about
knew the little birds, and even the farmers gave
them a sort of grudging welcome. Children
watched them with a kindly courtesy, and even
men and women would pause in their busy ways
to wonder at the active, hardy little emigrants,
who were so willing to go west, east, north, or
south in the new land and settle. But that was a
dozen years ago. The little stranger bird soon
grew familiar, then abundant, and now people rise
against them and tell them to begone. Letters
are written to the newspapers proposing various
ways of destroying them. They are welcome no
longer. It's a free country, but not free to the
Perhaps I ought to feel differently, my children,
and tell you that the little creatures have become
troublesome, that they drive away better birds,
that they don't eat insects and slugs, and they do

eat fruit and grain. Perhaps I ought to read you
a lesson from all this, and say, Behold, my chil-
dren, the effects of ill-doing! But I can not. I
am only a Jack-in-the-Pulpit, and there are so
many things worse than sparrows !
Think of it! Only fourteen years since the old
poet sang in his kindliness:

I hear the note of a stranger bird
That ne'er till now in our land was heard.
A winged settler has taken his place
With Teutons and men of the Celtic race;
He has followed their path to our hemisphere-
The Old-World sparrow at last is here.
He meets not here, as beyond the main,
The fowler's snare and the poisoned grain,
But snug-built homes on the friendly tree,
And crumbs for his chirping family
Are strewn when the winter fields are drear,
For the Old-World sparrow is welcome here!

Now and then my birds bring me a letter from
some learned scientific man-pretty heavy for
them to carry, and yet too interesting to be thrown
down under my pulpit (the letter, I mean, not the
learned scientific man). Here is one, for instance,
that can be accepted word for word as a true
account. So many of my youngsters have been
by the sea and on the sea during the past sum-
mer that, for their sakes, I. E. shall have a hearty
welcome and a hearing:
DEAR JACK: If you will give me room, I would like to say a few
words to your school-boys and school-girls about deep sea soundings:
When, half a dozen years ago, the English men of science in the
"Challenger" sent word that they had succeeded in sinking their
sounding-lead to the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean through water
3862 fathoms deep, everybody thought it very wonderful. But last
winter, the officers of the Coast Survey steamer Blake made a
record with their lead-line (of piano-wire) of 456i fathoms, at a
point seventy-five miles north of San Juan, Porto Rico, in the West
Indies. But a greater abyss than this even has been reached by
another American steamer, the "Tuscarora," for her officers say
that, between Japan and the Aleutian Islands, they "found bottom"
at a depth -f i1r- Ifthoms. A fathom is six feet, and a mile con-
tains only I...r so that this depth is almost six miles. There
is only one mountain in the world that stands as high as that above
the surface, yet probably thousands of square miles of ocean bottom
are much more than this depth below it. In Mr. Ernest Ingersoll's
little book, Old Ocean," he says that if Nature were to plane down
the earth with its mountain ranges in order to fill the ocean valleys,
and so make a perfectly smooth surface all over the globe, "she
would find it needful to dig away all the dry land of the globe and
also much which is submerged, and then salt water would cover
everything with a uniform depth of over a mile." This means that
the general average of land surface is sunk a mile deeper below the
level of the ocean beach than it is raised above by all the mountain
masses. I. E.

DEAR JACK: I am ten years old. I have a pet rabbit; he has
black ears, feet, and nose, and the rest is white, and his eyes are pink.
He used to go under the parlor table just at dusk, but now he goes
upstairs and finds shelter in some dark corner. One night, he got
under the bed, and we had quite a hard time to get him out. He
likes bread and gingerbread very much, and if I have either he fol-
lows me wherever I go until he gets some. One night I thought he
was lost, and we hunted everywhere and could not find him. At last,
we looked under the outer kitchen and he was there. We tried to
coax him out with cantelope, and he drew it under; then we tried
bread, and he came out. One day he was chased by a dog, and I
heard the bell on the dog and the one on the rabbit, and I chased
the dog out and the rabbit went under the porch. The dog was a
good ratter and mistook Bunny for a rat. WALTER L. F.
Now, Walter, Jack wishes you to ask some wise
body this question, if you can not answer it your-
self: If a dog can make a mistake of that kind,



does it, or does it not, prove that a dog can think?
My birds tell me, though, that the dog knew it
was Bunny, but thought he would try a rabbit for
a change.
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: Have your birds ever told you
about the insect which, according to Cassell's Family Magazine,"
has lately been discovered in Yucatan, Central America, by an
American explorer ? And, if so, do you know what it looks like?
I do not. But hear what my book says of his possible performances:
It is called Neen, and belongs to the Coccus family, which feeds on
the mango tree, and swarms in these regions. It is of considerable
size, yellowish-brown in color, and emits a peculiar odor. The body
of the insect contains a large proportion of grease, which is highly
prized by the :.- ; i ;... i i, :.. on account of its medic-
inal properties .. ... I..at, the lighter oils of the
grease volatilize, leaving behind a tough wax which resembles
shellac, and may be used for making varnish or lacquer. When
burnt, this wax produces a thick semi-fluid mass, like a solution of
india rubber, and it is expected that this glutinous liquid will be very
valuable for cement and water-proofing.
Yours truly, JANET C. W.

No, my birds have not described this identical
sort of gifted insect, but a little quail of my ac-
quaintance says if he ever should taste one he
would be sure to know it. Neither the Little
School-ma'am, who is much interested in the ac-
count, nor the Deacon, can give me any further
particulars about the newly discovered insect.


I ,


__~ ~-_ -= _-.--

THE Deacon, by the way, wishes me to show
you this picture of what he calls "A Railway
Velocipede," and he says it will interest all the
young ST. NICHOLAS wheelmen," whoever they
may be. The Deacon adds that the queer veloci-
pede is an actual machine," and is explained by
this letter to him from a certain C. J. :

DEAR DEACON GREEN: The accompanying picture shows a ve-
locipede designed to transport the employes of a railway company
along the lines.
It is now used in most of the railways round Lake Michigan.
The machine is propelled by the rider working the hand-lever, as
shown; but the feet can also be called into play in order to insure
greater speed. As the friction on the rails is very slight, the driver
can readily attain a speed of twelve miles an hour; and if a train
should be seen approaching, he can dismount very quickly and
cant it off the rails. Yours truly, C. J

HAVE any of my young observers in this part of
the world ever seen a fly attack an ant, or an ant
trouble a fly? Probably not. But according to

a brave traveler named Livingstone, a certain
species of small ant in Africa will worry flies in a
sort of bull-dog way that can not be commended.
One of these little insects will conquer even the
house-fly, by seizing his wing or leg and holding
on. The fly goes about as usual for awhile, but
by and by he is tired out and gives up. Then the
persevering ant devours the poor fellow without
further ceremony.

DEAR JACK: During two days which we spent in Rio Janeiro,
we visited the Botanical Gardens, and saw the beautiful avenues of
palms which distinguish them. I did not know before that palms
were so beautiful, so strange, and yet so graceful. Their pictures
always seemed to me like grown-up feather-dusters.
We soon found ourselves in a part of the garden where tropical
plants of every kind are allowed to run wild, forming a tangled
underbrush, through which run well-kept walks.
We had been here but a minute when we saw, resting on a flower,
a butterfly, more beautiful than ever I had seen. He was of a pale-
green, with markings. I thought immediately of the Agassiz Asso-
ciation. Alas! he flew away, and we saw him no more. Hardly
was he gone when a purple one, of so brilliant metallic luster that
he seemed to reflect the sunlight, flitted by us.
A gentleman with us sprang over a little stream in order to catch
him, and sank deep into a bog. So that one, too, was lost. Then
began a regular chase for butterflies, and during the next ten
minutes I saw more different kinds of butterflies than I had seen
during the thirteen years of my previous existence. The largest was
a pale-blue one, fully as large as a bat. Not one did we catch, so I
can do nothing but tantalize butterfly hunters by any description of
their beauties. One was jet-black, with a light blue spot on each of
his front wings, and a crimson one on each of his hind wings. There
were a good many of these on the other side of a fence, which we
could n't get over. Truly your friend, A. B. G.

Now that is just the kind of a butterfly-hunt
your Jack likes. Butterflies beautiful and abun-
dant, atmosphere sunny, scenery picturesque,
hunters enthusiastic and active, and nobody hurt.
Not one joyous butterfly less in the world than
when the chase began.
Not that your Jack is down on the naturalists -
oh, no. But then a butterfly has such a short
time to live at best, and your naturalists can try
again, summer after summer.


Now don't suppose, my hearers, that I am going
to tell you about a very cruel and unnatural parent.
Not at all. There is no reason to suppose that a
scorpion mother is harder by nature, or more irri-
table in her feelings, than a turtle-dove mother.
I merely propose to show you part of a letter from
a good correspondent who, being, like A. B. G.,
a member of the ST. NICHOLAS Agassiz Asso-
ciation, sometimes takes notes about what she
sees and hears:
LAKE WORTH, Florida.
I have been very much interested in watching a family of
scorpions. I caught a fine scorpion and put it in a bottle. Next
morning its back was covered with eggs, about as large as pin heads,
not round, but oval. We counted twenty-two. They were in straight,
regular rows. When they hatched, the little scorpions remained on
the old scorpion's back, without moving, for several days. When
we pushed them off with a stick they scrambled back, climbing up
their mother's claws and tail. Sometimes she picked them up in her
claws and put them on her back. In a week the old scorpion found
herself much in the condition of the "Old woman who lived in a
shoe." These were the common scorpions (BDi Dus Carolwinia5s),
I think. LIDA B[uOWN.




CONTRIBUTORS are respectfully informed that, between the ist of June and the 15th 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.

July, 1885.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: This summer, we four girls have a little
Reading Club, and every two or three afternoons in the week we
start off with our book to a charming place on the bank of a river.
We will describe this place to you the best we can, and see if you
can't give us some nice name for it. It is on the bank overlooking a
small river; here is a large oak tree, the limbs being arranged so as
to make a nice, cozy seat for the reader, while the rest of us sit
around on the grass, sketching, sewing, or doing anything we like.
Up the river a little way is an island covered with trees, ferns, and
vines; right by this island another river flows down to meet this one,
and all along the banks are drooping trees. Down the river are
rocks, and stones, and an old mill, making the scenery very pict-
uresque. Do give us a name for our nook.

Why not name the chosen spot of your Reading Club Oak
Knoll," after the present home of the poet Whittier ? or "The Talk-
ing Oak," after the title of one of Tennyson's most celebrated poems ?
If you prefer a special name of your own, how would THE RIVER
GLEN do?

NEW YORK, July, 1883.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I live in Rome, N. Y., and I am at school
here in New York. I take ST. NICHOLAS, and like it very much. I
read what you said in the last number about the way rubber balls are
made. I think they are made in two parts, and then joined together,
because I had a rubber ball once and it broke apart right through
the center. Your constant reader, DAISY W.
Thanks, Daisy. Has anybody another theory to suggest?

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : Your correspondent's sensible suggestion,
to fix important dates in children's minds by means of easy rhymes,
reminds me of how the poet Southey taught his little daughter
some facts in natural history and in grammar at the same time:

"A cow's daughter is called a calf;
A sheep's child is a lamb.
My darling must not say 'I are,'
But must always say 'I am.'

How would the following do as a short history lesson?

In seventeen hundred and sixty-nine
Two baby boys saw the light,
Who, long before your time or mine,
Met in a desperate fight.

On Waterloo's red battle-field
France lost, and England won;
Napoleon there was forced to yield
To the Duke of Wellington.
Yours truly, L. B.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: It says in the dictionary that "lurid"
means ghastly pale, gloomy. Therefore, Mr. Trowbridge is right,
and Mr. Forbes is wrong. Yours respectfully, GEORGIE.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am fourteen years old, and take the ST.
NICHOLAS, which I think is the best magazine published. I guess
about all its readers agree with me in that.
We came out West here to live because Papa'shealth was so poor,
and I think this is a lovely place.
In winter it was very cold, the thermometer at one time being
thirty below zero! We did n't do much those days but keep warm.
Then in a few days it was so warm that we could go out without
any outside wraps on.
It is very different here from Newton, Mass., where I used to live.
Manitou, the "Saratoga of the West," is right next to us, about five
miles off, and I have tasted all the Springs,- Iron, Soda, and Sul-
phur,-and I think they are all horrid!
I liked "Donald and Dorothy" and "Jack and Jill" ever and
ever so much.

I always like every one of your stories, dear ST. NICHOLAS. J
like the subjects for compositions, too, and should try for the prizes
if you got to me soon enough.
Give my love to Deacon Green and the Little School-ma'am,"
who are both as nice as can be.
Your constant and loving reader, BESSIE H. B.

HERE is one more letter about the rhyme of the little girl who
had a little curl. We print it because it settles the question of the
authorship of the verse beyond dispute:
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: In behalf of my little ones, Jessie and
Harold, aged 8 and 4, who take great delight in your monthly
visits, I answer your query as to the author of the jingle,

"There was a little girl,
And she had a little curl," etc.,

by telling you that I have a letter from Messrs. Houghton, Mifflin
& Co., Mr. Longfellow's publishers, saying that Mr. Longfellow
did compose the one stanza beginning as above, but never published
it. The subsequent additions, or parodies, however (" There was a
little boy," etc.), were made by other persons. Yours truly,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl eleven years old, and have
been reading your precious pages four years. I live on the Guil-
ford battle-ground, where Greene and Cornwallis fought; we find
many relics of the battle -bullets and human bones, etc. And I have
found in the kitchen garret, covered with the dust and cobwebs of
all these years, a lovely spinning-wheel, with the date 1717 and the
letters M. C. cut in it. It was my great-great-grandmother's.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: You are very kind to wish to hear if I am
still good, and I wanted to tell you that I 'most lost my May ST.
NICHOLAS, but Papa says I'd best wait awhile before I say how
good (!) you make me.
I have two canaries, and they have a nest with four little eggs in
in it, for all the world like the picture in this May number-the
spots and all. They sit on the side of the nest, and look just as wise
at the eggs as yours do. (Papa says they are from Germany, and
are wondering whether there is any germ in the shells.)
I wish you could see them -but I will send you one of the little
birds when the eggs grow up.
Your fond friend, CUCHEE SMITH.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am twelve years old. I go to No. 4
School, and am in the fourth class. I am going to tell you how we
get your magazine in our class. We have a bank on which is en-
graved, "Pass around the hat." The scholars drop in the pennies
they have to spare.
We also received fifty cents from our principal for selling tickets
for an entertainment. He gave us twenty-five per cent. on every
dollar's worth we sold; and as we sold two dollars' worth, we raised
money enough in that way for two magazines. We have six months
in all.
We like ST. NICHOLAS very much, and we read it in the class in-
stead of our Readers, which have n't very nice pieces, and those that
are interesting are so short.
Yours, very respectfully, SOPHIE K.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have taken your magazine since 1875,
and like it very much.
I like your magazine better than any other that I have read; and
.ii. i. -i .... fourteen years old, I expect to take your magazine
S .. ;I -. longer.
I have read all of the serial stories that nave been in ST. NICHO-
IAS for seven or eight years, and have enjoyed them all. G. M. L.



IN response to the call. in a late number of ST. NICHOLAS for
specialists in conchology, I will undertake to answer any queries
in regard to, or identify, any specimens of land or fresh-water shells
of North America; will also "ex." for good specimens.
The number of members joining our summer classes is quite
gratifying. It is not yet too late to begin. The subject for the
month in Entomology is Neuroftera. Records of original observa-
tions are to be prepared after the plan given in July ST. NICHOLAS,
and sent to Prof. G. Howard Parker, Academy of Sciences, Phila-
delphia, Pa.
The Botany Class will take up Leaves this month, and specimens
-or better, drawings (see July number)-should be prepared at
once, in accordance with the following scheme, and sent to Prof.
Jones, Salt Lake City, Utah:

Stipules :
foliaceous (for shapes, see
scale-like (for shapes, see
glandular (for kinds, see
sheathing, etc.
special (bud scales, ligules,
Petiole :
shapes (see stems),
etc. (see hairs).
as leaves (phyllodia)
store-houses, etc.
Blade :
Body :


Tip containedd):
Base :
glandular, etc.
dentate (for kinds, see
parted (for kinds, see cleft),
divided (for kinds, see

Name. No. of Members. Address.
Princeton, Ill. (C)........ 6.. Harry Bailey.
Stockbridge, Mass. (A)... 46.. Miss Bessie C. Chaffee.
Philadelphia, Pa. (0)...... 5..Mrs. E. P. McCormick, 1525
Herkimer, N. Y. (A)...... 5..Geo. W. Nellis.
Nassau, N. Y. (A)........ 6..Miss Emily P. Sherman.
Oswego, N. Y. (B) .. ... 28.. Miss Alice T. Weed, o8 W. 7.
Brazil, Ind. (B)........... 7..Hugh T. Montgomery.
Port Henry, N. Y. (A).... 4..John Thomas.
Tonawanda, N. Y. (A).... Jennie Faulkner.
Middlebury, Vt. (B) .. I : May A. Bolton.
Macomb, Ill. (A) ......... Miss Nellie Tunnicliff.
Burlington, Wis. (A). ... 4..Miss Clara Keuper.
Blackwater, Fla. (A) ..... 8..Miss Kitty C. Roberts.


363, Saco, combines music with science, having "four violinists,
two tstwo aniss,guitarists, two pianiflutists." Hear the origin
of an enthusiastic girl's museum: We decided that it was n't
fair for the boys to do everything, so we decided we would start a
museum. We started with a few shells we found on the shore and
some cones we found in the woods. Our friends 'gave us some
things, till, in all, we had about one hundred specimens. Now I have
full possession of a room in which to keep my treasures. I have
some beautiful nests. I've fossilized wood, teeth, bones, and shell,
and a great many minerals," etc., etc., through six delightful pages,
which we must pass over to make room for Keyport, N. J., whose
secretary, Phelps Cherry, says: "Our president gave us each one
of the orders of insects, and we made a study of them and brought
in a composition about each order."-The Chapters of Greeley,
Col., 425 and 474, had a union meeting on Agassiz's birthday. The
secretary writes: "Whenever a member goes abroad, let him seek
out a Chapter, and let that Chapter entertain him. Get up a spirit like
this all over, and every one would enjoy himself. I wish to see a
brotherly feeling all over the United States about this. And another
thing, if the Association could hold conventions of ten or twelve
Chapters in different places, what a good thing it would be. When
I go East, next summer, I want to meet different Chapters and tell
them about our Western country." [There is much good sense in
all this, and we are growing into just that sort of brotherly spirit "
all the time.] Linwood M. Howe writes from Hallowell, Maine:
"I have been able, though alone and unaided, to collect over seventy
geological specimens. I have a note-book, and jot down anything
of interest. I find that it takes just one month for a robin (counting
from the laying of the egg) to fly."-Belpre, O., writes: I begin
to think that our little 'one hoss' Chapter may do something. I
should like to know if any other members have noticed that birds
sing the same song in different keys? The other day, I noticed a
little bluebird singing a song. It paused, and then transposed it
into another key, sang in that strain awhile, and then changed the
same song into a third key."-Fannie Rathbone, Lockport, N. Y.
(our largest Chapter), writes: "Truly, our record is a bright one.
We have a membership of 130: a fine cabinet filled with splendid
specimens, and containing the nucleus of a natural history library,
furnishes us with much interesting knowledge."--Robert H. Mc-
Grath, 1038 Third street, Brooklyn, has some excellent books, and
"will send all the information that I can on eggs or spiders, on
receipt of postal card or stamp."-- Francis Parsons, Hartford, Conn.,
B, writes: "We keep note-books about birds that we see, the
weather, first snow-storm, etc. A friend of ours hangs out meat-
bones, and watches the chickadees, creepers, and nut-hatches that
come and feed on them."-Rosemont, Pa., is "growing more
interested" [and consequently more interesting]. Grace Austin
Smith, their secretary, writes: "We are making two herbariums,
and the general collection is increasing."-Abington, Mass., has
celebrated its anniversary. After the address of welcome, the secre-
tary read a report for the year. Recitation, Birthday of Agassiz" ;
essay, "The day we spent at White Rock"; treasurer's report;
bountiful collation. The president then introduced the toast-master,
who proposed the following: "Our Association," "Our Poetess,"
"The Ladies," "Our Younger Members." During the year the
membership had increased from four to fifteen. [A most excellent
record- who can excel it?] -Wiconisco (23I) is holding the "even
tenor of our way," and has increased to above twenty members, and
has fossils to ..1...... T. ie P. Smith, secretary of Ambler,
writes that her I. 'it -. I .. to undertake silk-worm culture.

H. H. BALLARD-Dear Sir. Our Chapter grows in interest.
We have been studying mainly from books, which, though not
according to your advice, is good to keep young people busy. An
essay each evening has been one of our plans, and we find it a good
one. Our cabinet--two and a half feet by six feet-is full, not
room for another article. Another must be built. True, we had
most of these specimens before we organized a Chapter; but the
new ones are not the least valuable. The best of it all, to me, is
the interest, the alertness of the children.
Yours, etc., MRs. MI. F. BRADSHAW.


(4o) Frozg-/hofiers.-T'he drops of froth found on grasses in the
spring contain little insects: at first, a yellow ,rorm; later, a green
insect: at last, the perfect little black bug. Can any one give the
scientific name? LILLIAN E. ROGERS.

(41) Caddis-fies.--I found some caddis-fly cases in the brook.
and put them in water at home. The grubs crawled about. They
have three pairs of legs: a long pair close to the cases; a shorter
pair next, and a still shorter pair next to the head, which is black.
'42) Hair-snake.- I saw it pulling a stone along in the bottle in
which I kept it. As I stood looking at it, it tied itself up into a knot
and died. OWEN B. ADAMS.


(43) Bittern.- One of our friends has a bittern; his diet is frogs,
snakes, and insects. He will not eat toads. FRANK BURDICK.

(44) Microscopic Powtograpfly.-A friend showed me some very
fine photographs which he had taken through a microscope, and
they surprised me by their size and clearness.

(45) Spiders.-There were found under a bowlder what appeared
at first to be white, silken cocoons, but on examination they were
found to contain spiders, that came out when warmed. T1'.: -. 1:.
are about one centimeter long and five millimeters wide. TI .. I:
are five millimeters long. The cephalo-thorax is black on top and
gray on the sides. The abdomen is black, spotted with white on
top and gray on the sides. The underside is gray and covered
with hairs. GEO. AVER.
(46) Electric Fish.- I wrote you in my letter of July I7th about
a fish, the substance of which you kindly published in the ST.
NICHOLAS for December. It is a rare fish in our Southern waters.
To-day, I received a letter from W. C. Phillips, of New Bedford,
who supposed it to be the Tortedo oculata or eyed torpedo -a mis-
take probably arising from the fact that the eyed torpedo is the only
electrical fish found on the Massachusetts coast. It is a kind of ray
or skate. The ray is plentiful in the Gulf of Mexico, and I am per-
fectly familiar with its different families. To have compared the
fish I described, or a red gurnard (which I mentioned as its shape),
with an eyed torpedo would have been absurd. It resembles it as
little in appearance as it does the Gymwnots electricus, or electric
eel, although each is armed with an electric apparatus, differently
located, and similar but in effect. The fish 1 mentioned was neither
of these; it1 1 .1 ,. h h American waters; it is described as in
possession 1 ... i I.. i- apparatus or battery intermediate in
character between those of gymnotus and torpedo, though of much
finer texture. The details of the interior arrangement are too
lengthy to form a part of this letter. The direction of the current
is probably from the head to the tail; the cephalic extremity being
positive and the caudal negative. It is the Malafterus electricus-
the Silurus electricus of the old authors.


Pressed plants.- D. F. Carpenter, New Salem, Mass.
Are there pink amethysts?-J. F. Stevens, 1127 Mt. Vernon
street, Philadelphia, Pa.
Correspondence on birds and rocks.- George B. Hudson, Ware-
ham, Mass.
What forms the cement in coquina ?
449, Richmond B, has 30 members, instead of 6.
For best three varieties of fossils received within three months, I
will give a collection of thirty varieties of same-all fine, labeled
specimens.-W. R. Lighton, Ottumwa, Iowa.
Petrified wood agates and geodes, for insects and birds' eggs.-
Carleton Gilbert, 116 Wildwood avenue, Jackson, Mich.
Birds' eggs.-Harry Bailey, Princeton, Illinois.
Copper for quartz.- Linwood Howe, box 353, Hallowell, Me.
Labeled shells for same.- H. B. Shaw, 253 S. Union street, Bur-
lington, Vt.
Turtles' eggs.- Charlotte H. Cochrane, Sixth avenue, Newark,
Beetles of Illinois.--Chas. F. Gettemy, 208 N. Academy street,
Galesburg, I11.
Eggs.-Dr. E. A. Patton, 721 Nicollet ave., Minneapolis, Minn.
Many varieties to exchange for well-identified side-blown specimens.
Red and black iron ore and calcite, for specimens from West and
South.-John P. Gavit, 3 La Fayette Place, Albany, N. Y.
Moths and cocoons.--Mabel Adams, secretary 1X3, 307 N. Third
street, Camden, N. J. (Have large moths any probosces?)
Gold and other ores.-W. D. Burnham, 697 Curtis street, Denver,
Very fine insects.-Edward McDowell, 264 W. Baltimore street,
Baltimore, Md.

Prof. French is having such remarkable success with our botanical
members that we gladly append his exchange list. Members of
each of these Chapters are preparing sets of ioo plants for exchange.

Chap. Canada:
451 Beech Hill--Sydney Mines, C. B., Margaret S. Brown.
68 Maine .
46 Saco.- Helen Montgomery.
442 Waldoboro.--Thomas Brown
443 Brunswick.-E. B. Young.
New H1amfshire :
440 Keene.-Frank H. Foster.
284 Marlboro Depot.-Lucy A. Whitcomb. (Swanzey, N. H.)

Massachusetts :
I Lenox.- Harlan H. Ballard.
92 N. Cambridge.- Fred E. Keay.
124 Jamaica Plain.- Geo. W. Wheelwright, Jr.
203 Framingham.- Chester Cutting.
256 Newton Upper Falls.--Josie M. Hopkins.
352 Amherst.-Edith S. Field.
367 Boston.-Annie Darling, 47 Concord Square.
269 Waltham.-H. I. Hancock, box 1339.
283 Greenfield.- C. H. K. Sanderson.
231 Webster.-Robert Leavitt.
438 Somerville.--Chas. E. Perkins.
123 Waterbury.- Herbert N. Johnson.
New York :
87 New York.- Geo. Aery, Jr., 257 Madison street.
114 Auburn.-S. E. Robb, pres.
191 New York.- Buckner Van Amringe, 51 E. Forty-fourth street.
215 Tioga Center.-Angie Latimer.
286 Stockport.-- Willard J. Fisher.
336 Auburn.-E. L. Hickok, 13 Aurelius avenue.
374 Brooklyn.- F. E. Cocks, 136 Seventh street.
409 Sag Harbor.-C. R. Sleight.
476 Aurora.-E. L. French.
272 Westown.--W. Evans.
402 Cayuga-- H. D. Willard.
New Jersey:.
113 Camden.-- Mabel Adams, 307 N. Third street.
403 Newark.- C. H. Barrows.
423 Perth Amboy.-Bertha Mitchell.
Pennsylvania :
77 Wilkes Barre.-Helen M. Reynolds.
'ro Frankford, Phila.-R. T. Taylor, 4701 Leiper street.
20o6 State College.- Geo. C. McKee.
289 Cambria Station.- Ellis P. Oberholtzer.
314 Lancaster.-E. R. Heitshu.
255 Chester.-F. R. Gilbert.
258 Reading.-W. W. Mills.
Ohio :
154 Jefferson.- Clara L. Northway.
31o Belpre.-Fanny Rathbone.
323 Bryan.- Ethel Gillis.
431 Terre Haute.-Jacpb Greiner, 432 Center street.
Illinois :
153 Chicago.--Frank W. Wentworth, 1337 Michigan avenue.
229 Chicago.- Ezra Lamed, 2546 Dearborn street.
328 Buchanan.- William Talbot.
50 Flint.- Hattie Lovell.
Wisconsin :
134 DePere.- Annie S. Gilbert.
253 Poynette.--Harry Russell.
344 Monroe.-J. J. Schindler
Baraboo.-Marie MacKennan, box 1r33.
285 Dubuque.-Alvin Wheeler.
330 Cedar Rapids.-Charles R. Eastman.
Minnesota :
121 St. Paul.- Frank Ramaley.
366 Webster GroVes.- Edwin R. Alien.
Kentuckcy :
133 Erlanger.-L. M. Bedinger.
207 Bowling Green.- Jennie P. Glenn.
Florida -
282 Zellwood.- Mary E Robinson.
262 Denver.-Ernest L. Roberts.
California .
296 San Francisco.- Bertha L. Rowell.

Plants for identification may be sent to the following experts,
always inclosing postal card or stamped envelope for refly:

I. N. E. States and Canada......Prof. C. H. K. Sanderson,
Greenfield, Mass.
II. Middle States ..............Dr. Charles Atwood,
4 Moravia, N. Y.
III. Southern States ..............Dr. Chapman,
Apalachicola, Fla.
IV. Western States to Colorado ....Dr. Aug. F. Foerste,
Dayton, O.
V. Far West and North-west.....Dr. Marcus L. Jones,
Denver, Col.
VI. Ferns, Sedges, and Grasses
specially ...............Prof. W. R. Dudley,
Ithaca, N. Y.
Address all communications to the President,
Principal of Lenox Academy, Lenox, Mass.




IN the above illustration there are four anagrams, and four sets of
pictures to correspond. The puzzle is to be solved by taking the
letters of a word that describes one picture of each set, and re-
arranging them so as to spell the words which will describe the re-
maining pictures of the same set. In the illustration, each number
is placed so as to indicate the pictures belonging to its set.
A. S. R.

T1 si eth starveH noMo! no digdel vesna
Dan sorof fo galvesil, no dolwonad cretss
Nad hiret realai bighshodoneor fo nesst
Reedtesd, no eth raincuted donwiw-snape
Fo smoro hewer hendrilc plese, no nutcory slean
Dan hastrev-slidef, sit sytcim dorspnel stores! G. w.

Z I4.Z. %..

,: '... ... i: .. I. .. .-., h ;'

- ished. 5. To taste. 6. Frequently. 7. A kind of grain. 8. A
unit 9. A tavern. o1. A large Australian bird ii. Fuss.
12. To equip. 13. To increase. 14. Much needed in summer.
15. Past. 16. An edible fish. 17. To tap. 18. To entreat. 09. A
conveyance. A. A. W.


IN this puzzle, each word defined is beheaded to form the next. i.
To drink in a jovial manner. 2. To stir. 3. To agitate. 4. A
river of England. 5. To utilize. 6. Two-thirds of a word meaning
a body of water. 7. Not in ST. NICHOLAS. ALCIBIADES."

I AM composed of ninety-seven letters, and am four lines of a
poem by James Russell Lowell.
My 79-27-91-31-57-33-76 is a name applied to Egyptian kings.
My 9-65-70-42-22 is disgrace. My 29-5-59-72-86 is anger. My
38-89-88 is a metal. My 63-18-87-6-67-16-25-71 is thought-
less. My 3-77-84-68 is comfortable. My 92-2i-6o-36-19 is to
glow. My 62-1-51-93 is very small. My 46-35-544-4-4-61-52 is
a favorite pastime with boys. My 74-48-96 is a domestic bird.
My --'-, -.' is to grieve. My 30-66-58 is a projection on a
wheel ; 4-94-83 is a plaything. My -- .-.- is to
damage. My 23-15-53-12-81 is a very young I .: '!. 80-4-
90-34 is to gape. My o1-55-82-20-49 is batrachian reptiles. My
8-73-32-28-13 is a kind of seat. My 26-2-24-56 is to melt. My
47-50-97-75 is large. My 17-95-37-7-31 is a sweet substance.



THE first word of the square is the answer to the following cross-
word enigma:
My first is in month, but not in May;
My second in loam, but not in clay;
My third is in look, but not in sight;
My fourth in conquest, but not in fight,
My whole comes often, but not in the night.
The second word of the square is the answer to the following
cross-word enigma:
My first is in soon, but not in near;
My second in terror, but not in fear;
My third is in heat, but not in fire;
My fourth is in hoop, but not in tire;
My whole, a name heard in the German Empire.
The third word is the same as the second, and the fourth word is
the same as the first. G. E. M.
r 2

3 4

5 6

7 ... 8
FROM I to 2, to manifest; from 2 to 6, dominion; from 5 to 6, to pour
out freely; from i to 5, fit to be eaten; from 3 to 4, to give power;
from 4 to 8, to obliterate; from 7 to 8, complete; from 3 to 7, a
mechanical contrivance; from I to 3, a river in Germany; from 2 to
4, a large lake of North America; from 6 to 8, facility; from 5 to 7,
margin. DYCIE.

A COMMiON nickname is my first,
A preposition is my next;
A definitive adjective is my tlird,
From my fourth is read the text.
Of my whole you 've no doubt heard-
'T is a flower and not a bird.

I. IN perform. 2. A cavity. 3. A substance which exudes from
certain trees. 4. Small, smooth stones. 5. False religion. 6.
Husbandry. 7. To whinny. 8. To observe. 9. In perform.
"A. P. OWDER, JR."

MY first is in candle, but not in lamp;
My second in soldier, but not in camp;
My third is in carrot, but not in beet;
My fourth is in summer, but not in heat;
My fifth is in shepherd, but not in crook;
My sixth is in meadow, but not in brook;
My seventh in carol, but not in trill;
My eighth is in feather, but not in quill;
My ninth is in saddle, but not in spur;
My tenth is in velvet, but not in fur;
My eleventh in dungeon, but not in cave;
My twelfth is in villain, but not in knave;
My thirteenth in giant, but not in elf;
My fourteenth in mantle, but not in shelf;
My fifteenth in weaver, but not in loom;
'T is also in servant, but not in groom.
My whole-why, my whole is my whole, nothing
No doubt you will guess it ere I shall count four.
M. C. D.


CHARADE. August.
SYNCOPATIONS. Taylor. I. Ma-T-in. 2. Pr-A-y. 3. G-Y-rate.
4. G-L-oat. 5. M-O-use. 6. T-R-act.
HALF-SQUARE. I. Napoleon. 2. Adorers. 3. Ponder. 4.
Order. 5. Leer. 6. Err. 7. Os. 8. N.
RIDDLE. Sausage.
COMBINATION PUZZLE. I. I. N-eat. 2. E-den. 3. W-hen.
4. P-ore. 5. O-pen. 6. R-ear. 7. T-rip. II. 1. S-hip. 2. A-rid.
3. R-age. 4. A-men. 5. T-ear. 6. O-men. 7. G-old. 8.
A-men. The blanks may be replaced by these words, in the follow-
ing order: When, neat, ship, Eden, rear, trip, open, pore, rage,
tear, gold, arid, omen, amen, amen.
THE BARBER'S PUZZLE. "The barber will soon be in. Wait
ten minutes, please."

WORD-BUILDING. I. T. 2. At. 3. Rat. 4. Rate. 5. Crate.
6. Crater.
DOUBLE ACROSTIC. Primals, smoke; finals, steam. Cross-
words: I. SophocleS. 2. MomenT. 3. OrangE. 4. KamchatkA.
5. EmporiuM.
DIAMOND. I. G. 2. Pet. 3. Penal. 4. Gentian. 5. Tails.
6. Las(t). 7. N.
BEHEADINGS AND CURTAILINGS. Beheaded letters, when trans-
posed, split; curtailed letters, when transposed, Leeds. i. P-ear-1.
2. S-hear-s. 3. I-rat-e. 4. T-hem-e. 5. L-an-d.
CONCEALED WORD-SQUARE. I. Dash. 2. Aloe. 3. Sour. 4.
EASY WORD-SQUARES. I. 1. Pipe. 2. Idol. 3. Poll. 4. Ella.
II. i. Corn. 2. Olio. 3. Ride. 4. Noel. III. I. Pose. 2. Oaky.
3. Skye. 4. Eyes.

THE NAMES of those who send solutions are printed in the second number after that in which the puzzles appear. Answers should be
addressed to ST. NICHOLAS "Riddle-box," care of THE CENTURY CO., 33 East Seventeenth street, New York City.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE JUNE NUMBER were received, too late for acknowledgment in the August number, from D. Caine,
London, England, 3-George S. Hayter, London, England, 12--David H. Dodge, England, 8--Edith McKeever and her cousin,
Heidelberg, Germany, io-Hester M. F. Powell, Grantham, England, 6-I. P., Trebizond, Turkey, 2.
ANSWERS TO ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE JULY NUMBER were received, before July 20, from Helen C. McCleary-Lottie A. Best-
FrankJ. Siefert and Walter S. McVay--" Two Subscribers"-Virginia Pegram--Lulu M. Stabler--Arthur Gride-Frederica and
Andrew Davis -" Demosthenes "- Pinnie and Jack E. Werneburg- Maggie T. Turrill- Helen F. Turner- Mabel Florence Noyes
- Estelle Riley Clara J. Child George Lyman Waterhouse Isabella Ganeaux P. S. Clarkson -" Marna and Bae."
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE JULY NUMBER were received, before July 20, from J. Jay Pardee, Jr., I-0. K. Fagundus, --E. M.
Perry, 2- SpencerWeart, i-Walter Mclndoe, 2-Louise Pitkin and Kitty Atkins, 2- Annie M. Wadsworth, 2-Grace E. and Emilie
D. Murray,- Paul Reese, 8- Russell K. Miller, 3-" Simple Simon," -Grace Johnson, i-G. F. Blandy, 2-Eleanor E. Du
Bois, I--S. R. T., 8- M. E. M., 8- Sophie M. du Pont, I--W. W. S. Hoffman, i -John W. Stebbins, 3- Clara Gilbert, and Edna
and Mary Higley, 4-Rosa Fleetwood, W. M. Richards, 9--W. N. Carlton, --Dora Jackson, 8-Mary K. Doherty, i-"Tom
Thumb" and "Goliath," i- C. Roy Macfarlane, i- Horace R. Parker, 3--" Nitor," 2-Tiny Rhodes, 3- Alice F. Wann, 2-
Eunice Johnson, -" Robin Hood," 3 Grace Taylor Lyman, M. L. G., 5 Viola S. C., 3 Frank E. Brewer, 4 Georgie Denton,
--Genie J. Callmeyer, 8-Louise W. Bunce, 2-Anna Calkins, 3-Effie K. Talboys, 6-"Solomon John" and Elizabeth Eliza," 4
- Marion, 4--Philip Embury, Jr., 7-Herbert Tremaine, i-Annie Kuhnen, 2-" Pleasant Beach," 2-" Crab-apple Jackson," 3-
A. and B., 4-Mabel B. Canon, 5--Mabel Cilley, 3-Raymond Cilley, 3-Berta and George, 5-"Quincy, Ill.," 3-Lizette A.
Fisher and H. Hobart Keech, I Gillet and Stewart, 8- Eugene and Miriam, 2 -Helen Merriam, z Dycie, 6- Edward J. V. Ship-
sey, 5-Darie Hawkins, 6-Charlotte H. Holloway, 3-Madeleine Vultee, 8-Theodore C. Janeway, i-Louise M. Knight, 6-
Mattie Fitzgerald, 3- Florence E. Provost, 5- Gertie and Ed, 7- "Silhouette & Co.," 9--R. Coates & Co., 6 -Charles H. Wright, 4
- Lester W. Walker, 2- M. H. Johnson, Edward B. Hinckley, 8-Hattie Judd, 2-" Butterfly and June Bug," 5-S. L. P. and
John Hobble, 9 Alcibiades," 8 Adelaide and Ethel Gardiner, 8 -T. B. A., 3- Frank E. Schermerhorn, 2 Eisseb Sregor," 6-
Hester Bruce, 6-Samuel Branson, 2-Gertrude Cosgrave, 7-Annie S. Clift, 4-Alex. Laidlaw, 4-Hattie Brown, 6-"Kathleen,"
2-Hester M, F. Powell, 6-H. L. P. and S. E. M. Jr., 3-"2E.," i- Nona Fritz, 8--Sophia and Mary Lamb, i--Hattie I.
Weisel, 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..



University of Florida Home Page
© 2004 - 2010 University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries.
All rights reserved.

Acceptable Use, Copyright, and Disclaimer Statement
Last updated October 10, 2010 - - mvs