Front Cover
 Tabby's table-cloth - Second spinning-wheel...
 To my valentine, aged one
 Our coasting brigade (picture)
 Stories of art and artists - Fourteenth...
 Flowers of winter
 Griselda's new year's receptio...
 Winter fun
 Pigmy trees and miniature...
 The brownies on skates
 The land of fire
 Not fear
 An engraver on wheels
 The cricket's violin
 Historic boys
 Nine years old
 The St. Nicholas almanac
 The presidents of the United...
 Two little pussy cats
 A little girl's letter about her...
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover

Title: St. Nicholas
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00139
 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: VID00139
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 266
    Tabby's table-cloth - Second spinning-wheel story
        Page 267
        Page 268
        Page 269
        Page 270
        Page 271
        Page 272
        Page 273
        Page 274
    To my valentine, aged one
        Page 275
    Our coasting brigade (picture)
        Page 276
    Stories of art and artists - Fourteenth paper
        Page 277
        Page 278
        Page 279
        Page 280
        Page 281
        Page 282
        Page 283
        Page 284
        Page 285
        Page 286
    Flowers of winter
        Page 287
        Page 288
        Page 289
        Page 290
    Griselda's new year's reception
        Page 291
        Page 292
        Page 293
        Page 294
        Page 295
        Page 296
        Page 297
    Winter fun
        Page 298
        Page 299
        Page 300
        Page 301
        Page 302
        Page 303
    Pigmy trees and miniature landscapes
        Page 304
        Page 305
    The brownies on skates
        Page 306
        Page 307
        Page 308
    The land of fire
        Page 309
        Page 310
        Page 311
        Page 312
        Page 313
        Page 314
        Page 315
        Page 316
        Page 317
        Page 318
    Not fear
        Page 319
    An engraver on wheels
        Page 320
        Page 321
        Page 322
        Page 323
    The cricket's violin
        Page 324
    Historic boys
        Page 325
        Page 326
        Page 327
        Page 328
        Page 329
        Page 330
        Page 331
        Page 332
    Nine years old
        Page 333
    The St. Nicholas almanac
        Page 334
    The presidents of the United States
        Page 335
    Two little pussy cats
        Page 336
    A little girl's letter about her dolls
        Page 337
        Page 338
        Page 339
    The letter-box
        Page 340
        Page 341
        Page 342
    The riddle-box
        Page 343
        Page 344
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text

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(See article in this number entitled An Engraver on Wheels.")

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No. 4.

[Copyright, 1884, by THE CENTURY CO.]



THE storm kept on all night, and next morning
the drifts were.higher, the wind stronger, and the
snow falling faster than ever. Through the day
the children roved about the great house, amusing
themselves as best they could; and, when evening
came, they gathered around the fire again, eager
for the promised story from Grandmamma.
I 've a little cold," said the old lady, "and am
too hoarse for talking, my dears; but Aunt Elinor
has looked up a parcel of old tales that I 've told
her at different times and which she has written
down. You will like to hear her reading better
than my dull way of telling them, and I can help
Minnie and Lotty with their work, for I see they
are bent on learning to spin."
The young folk were well pleased with Grand-
ma's proposal; for Aunt Nell was a favorite with
all, being lively and kind and fond of children,
and the only maiden aunt in the family. Now,
she smilingly produced a faded old portfolio, and,
turning over a little pile of manuscripts, said in
her pleasant way :
Here are all sorts, picked up in my travels at
home and abroad; and in order to suit all of you,
I have put the names on slips of paper into this
basket, and each can draw one in turn. Does that
please my distinguished audience ? "
"Yes, yes. Geoff's the oldest, let him draw
first," cried the flock, fluttering like a flight of
birds before they settle.
"Girls come first," answered the boy, with a
nod toward the eldest girl cousin.

Lotty put in her hand and, after some fumbling,
drew out a paper on which was written, "Tabby's
Table-cloth." Is that a good one? she asked,
for Geoff looked disappointed.
More fighting, though a girl is still the hero-
ine," answered Aunt Nell, searching for the manu-
I think two revolutions will be enough for you,
General," added Grandmamma, laughing.
Do we beat in both ? asked the boy, bright-
ening up at once.
':All right, then. I vote for 'Dolly's Dish-cloth,'
or whatever it is ; though I don't see what it can
possibly have to do with war," he added.
"Ah, my dear, women have their part to play
as well as men at such times, and do it bravely.
though one does not hear so much about their
courage. I 've often wished some one would col-
lect all that can be found about these forgotten
heroines, and put it in a book for us to read,
admire, and emulate when our turn comes."
Grandma looked thoughtfully at the fire as she
spoke, and Lotty said, with her eye on the port-
folio : Perhaps Aunt Nell will do it for us. Then
history wont be so dry, and we can glorify our fore-
mothers as well as fathers."
I '11 see what I can find. Now spin away,
Minnie, and sit still, boys,-if you can."
Then, having settled Grandma's foot-stool,
and turned up the lamp, Aunt Nell read the
tale of



ON the 20th day of March, 1775, a little girl was
trudging along a country road with a basket of eggs
on her arm. She seemed in a great hurry, and
looked anxiously about her as she went; for those
were stirring times, and Tabitha Tarbell lived in a
town that took a famous part in the Revolution.
She was a rosy-faced, bright-eyed lass of fourteen,
full of vigor, courage, and patriotism, and just then
much excited by the frequent rumors which reached
Concord that the British were coming to destroy
the stores sent there for safe keeping while the
enemy occupied Boston. Tabby glowed with wrath
at the idea, and (metaphorically speaking) shook
her fist at august King George, being a stanch
little Rebel, ready to fight and die for her country
rather than submit to tyranny of any kind.
In nearly every house something valuable was
hidden. Colonel Barrett had six barrels of powder;
Ebenezer Hubbard, sixty-eight barrels of flour; axes,
tents, and spades were at Daniel Cray's; and Cap-
tain David Brown had guns, cartridges, and musket
balls. Cannon were hidden in the woods; fire-
arms were being manufactured at Barrett's Mills;
cartouch-boxes, belts, and holsters, at Reuben
Brown's; saltpetre at Josiah Melvin's; and much
oatmeal was prepared at Captain Timothy Wheel-
er's. A morning gun was fired, a guard of ten men
patrolled the town at night, and the brave farmers
were making ready for what they felt must come.
There were Tories in the town who gave the
enemy all the information they could gather; there-
fore, much caution was necessary in making plans,
lest these enemies should betray them. Pass-words
were adopted, secret signals used, and messages
sent from house to house in all sorts of queer ways.
Such a message lay hidden under the eggs in
Tabby's basket, and the brave little girl was going
on an important errand from her uncle, Captain
David Brown, to Deacon Cyrus Hosmer, who lived
at the other end of the town, by the South Bridge.
She had been employed several times before in the
same way, and had proved herself quick-witted,
stout-hearted, andlight-footed. Now, as she trot-
ted along in her scarlet cloak and hood, she was
wishing she could still further distinguish herself
by some great act of heroism; for good Parson
Emerson had patted her on the head and said,
Well done, child when he heard how she ran

all the way to Captain Barrett's, in the night, to
warn him that Doctor Lee, the Tory, had been
detected sending information of certain secret
plans to the enemy.
I would do more than that, though it was a
fearsome run through the dark woods. Would n't
those two like to know all I know about the stores?
But I would n't tell 'em, not if they drove a bayonet
through me. I'm not afeared of'em ; and Tabby
tossed her head defiantly, as she paused to shift
her basket from one arm to the other.
But she evidently was afeared of something,
for her ruddy cheeks turned pale and her heat
gave a thump as two men came in sight, and
stopped suddenly on seeing her. They were
strangers; and though nothing in their dress in-
dicated it, the girl's quick eye saw that they were
soldiers; step and carriage betrayed it, and the
rapidity with which these martial gentlemen
changed into quiet travelers roused her suspicions
at once. They exchanged a few whispered words;
then they came on, swinging their stout sticks, one
whistling, the other keeping a keen lookout along
the lonely road before and behind them.
My pretty lass, can you tell me where Mr.
Daniel Bliss lives?" asked the younger, with a
smile and a salute.
Tabby was sure now that they were British; for
the voice was deep and full, and the face a ruddy
English face, and the man they wanted was a well-
known Tory. But she showed no sign of alarm be-
yond the modest color in her cheeks, and answered
civilly : Yes, sir, over yonder a piece."
Thanks, and a kiss for that," said the young
man, stooping to bestow his gift. But he got a
smart box on the ear, and Tabby ran off in a fury
of indignation.
With a laugh they went on, never dreaming that
the little Rebel was going to turn spy herself, and
get the better of them. She hurried away to Dea-
con Hosmer's, and did her errand, adding thereto
the news that strangers were in town. We must.
know more of them," said the Deacon. Clap a
different suit on her, wife, and send her with the
eggs to Mrs. Bliss. We have all we want of them,
and Tabby can look well about her, while she rests
and gossips over there. Bliss must be looked after
smartly, for he is a knave, and will do us harm."



Away went Tabby in a blue cloak and hood,
much pleased with her mission; and, coming to
the Tory's house about noon smelt afar off a savory
odor of roasting meat and baking pies.
Stepping softly to the back-door, she peeped
through a smill window, and saw Mrs. Bliss and
her handmaid cooking away in the big kitchen,
too busy to heed the little spy, who slipped around
to the front of the house to take a general survey
before she went in. All she saw confirmed her
suspicions; for in the keeping-room a table was
set forth in great style, with the silver tankards,
best china, and the fine damask table-cloth, which
the housewife kept for holidays. Still another
peep through the lilac bushes before the parlor
windows showed her the two strangers closeted
with Mr. Bliss, all talking earnestly, but in too low
a tone for a word to reach even her sharp ears.
I zwill know what they are at. -I'm sure it is
mischief, and I wont go back with only my walk
for my pains," thought Tabby; and marching into
the kitchen, she presented her eggs with a civil
message from Madam Hosmer.
They are mighty welcome, child. I 've used
a sight for my custards, and need more for the
flip. We 've company to dinner unexpected, and
I 'm much put about," said Mrs. Bliss, who seemed
to be concerned about something besides the din-
ner, and in her flurry forgot to be surprised at the
unusual gift; for the neighbors shunned them, and
the poor woman had many anxieties on her hus-
band's account, the family being divided,-one
brother a Tory and one a Rebel.
"Can I help, ma'am ? I 'm a master hand at
beating eggs, Aunt Hitty says. I 'm tired, and
would n't mind sitting a bit if I 'm not in the
way," said Tabby, bound to discover something
more before she left.
"But you be in the way. We don't want any
help, so you 'd better be steppin' along home, else
suthin' besides eggs may git whipped. Tale-
bearers are n't welcome here," said old Puah, the
maid, a sour spinster, who sympathized with her
master, and openly declared she hoped the British
would put down the Yankee rebels soon and
Mrs. Bliss was in the pantry, and heard nothing
of this little passage of arms; for Tabby hotly
resented the epithet of tale-bearer," though she
knew that the men in the parlor were not the only
spies on the premises.
When you are all drummed out of town and
thisliouse burnt to the ground, you may be glad
of my help, and I wish you may get it. Good-
day, old crab-apple," answered saucy Tabby ; and,
catching up her basket, she marched out of the
kitchen with her nose in the air.

But as she passed the front of the house, she
could not resist another look at the fine dinner
table; for in those days few had time or heart
for feasting, and the best napery and china
seldom appeared. One window stood open, and
as the girl leaned in, something moved under the
long cloth that swept the floor. It was not the
wind, for the March day was still and sunny, and
in a minute out popped a gray cat's head, and
puss came purring to meet the new-comer whose
step had roused him from a nap.
"Where one tabby hides another can. Can I
dare to do it ? What would become of me if found
out? How wonderful it would be if I could hear
what these men are plotting. I will."
A sound in the next room decided her; and,
thrusting the basket among the hushes, she leaped
lightly in and vanished under the table, leav-
ing puss calmly washing her face on the window-
As soon as it was done Tabby's heart oegan to
flutter; but it was too late to retreat, for at that
moment in bustled Mrs. Bliss, and the poor girl
could only make herself as small as possible, quite
hidden under the long folds that fell on all sides
from the wide, old-fashioned table. She dis-
covered nothing from the women's chat, for
it ran on sage cheese, egg-nog, roast pork, and
lamentations over a burnt pie. By the time
dinner was served, and the guests called in to
eat it, Tabby was calm enough to have all her
wits about her, and pride gave her courage to
be ready for the consequences, whatever they
might be.
For a time the hungry gentlemen were too busy
eating to talk much; but when Mrs. Bliss went
out, and the flip came in, they were ready for
business. The window was shut, whereat Tabby
exulted that she was inside; the talkers drew closer
together, and spoke so low that she could only
catch a sentence now and then, which caused her
to pull her hair with vexation ; and they swore a
good deal, to the great horror of the pious little
maiden curled up at their feet. But she heard
enough to prove that she was right; for these men
were Captain Brown and Ensign De Bernicre, of the
British army, come to learn where the supplies
were stored and how well the town was defended.
She heard Mr. Bliss tell them that some of the
" Rebels," as he called his neighbors, had sent him
word that he should not leave the town alive, and
he was in much fear for his life and property.
She heard the Englishmen tell him that if he
came with them they would protect him ; for they
were armed, and three of them together could
surely get safely off, as no one knew the strangers
had arrived but the slip of a girl who showed them




the way. Here "the slip of a girl" nodded her
head savagely, and hoped the speaker's ear still
tingled with the buffet she gave it.
Mr. Bliss gladly consented to this plan and told
them he would show them the road to Lexington,
which was a shorter way to Boston than through
Weston and Sudbury, the road they came.
"These people wont fight, will they?" asked
Ensign De Bernicre.
There goes a man who will fight you to
the death," answered Mr. Bliss, pointing to his
brother Tom, busy in a distant field.
The Ensign swore again, and gave a stamp that
brought his heavy heel down on poor Tabby's hand
as she leaned forward to catch every word. The
cruel blow nearly forced a cry from her; but she
bit her lips and never stirred, though faint with
pain. When she could listen again, Mr. Bliss was
telling all he knew about the hiding places of the
powder, grain, and cannon the enemy wished to
capture and destroy. He could not tell much,'for
the secrets had been well kept; but if he had
known that our young Rebel was taking notes of
his words under his own table, he might have been
less ready to betray his neighbors. No one sus-
pected a listener, however, and all Tabby could do
was to scowl at three pairs of muddy boots, and
wish she were a man that she might fight the
wearers of them.
She very nearly had a chance to fight or fly;
for just as they were preparing to leave the table
a sudden sneeze nearly undid her. She thought
she was lost, and hid her face, expecting to be
dragged out to instant death, perhaps, by the
wrathful men of war.
"What 's that?" exclaimed the Ensign, as a
sudden pause followed that fatal sound.
"It came from under the table," added Captain
Brown, and a hand lifted a corner of the cloth.
A shiver went through Tabby, and she held her
breath, with her eye upon that big, brown hand;
but the next moment she could have laughed with
joy, for pussy saved her. The cat had come to
doze on her warm skirts, and when the cloth was
raised, fancying he was to be fed by his master,
Puss rose and walked out purring loudly, tail erect,
with its white tip waving like a flag of truce.
"'T is but the old cat, gentlemen. A good beast,
and, fortunately for us, unable to report our con-
ference," said Mr. Bliss, with an air of relief, for he
had started guiltily at the bare idea of an eaves-
"He sneezed as if he were as great a snuff-
taker as an old woman of whom we asked our
way above here," laughed the Ensign, as they all
And there she is now, coming along as if our

grenadiers were after her!" exclaimed the Cap-
tain, as the sound of steps and a wailing voice
came nearer and nearer.
Tabby took a long breath, and vowed that she
would beg or buy the dear old cat that had saved
her from destruction. Then she forgot her own
danger in listening to the poor woman, who came
in crying that her neighbors said she must leave
town at once, for they would tar and feather a
body for showing spies the road to a Tory's house.
Well for me I came and heard their plots, or I
might be sent off in like case," thought the girl,
feeling that the more perils she encountered, the
greater heroine she would be.
Mr. Bliss comforted the old soul, bidding her
stay there till the neighbors forgot her, and the
officers gave her some money to pay for the costly
service she had done them. Then they left the
room, and after some delay the three men set off ;
but Tabby was compelled to stay in her hiding-
place till the table was cleared, and the women
deep in gossip as they washed dishes in the kitchen.
Then the little spy crept out softly, and raising the
window with great care, ran away as fast as her
stiff limbs would carry her.
By the time she reached the Deacon's, however,
and told her tale, the Tories were well on their way,
Mr. Bliss having provided them with horses that
his own flight might be the speedier.
So they escaped; but the warning was given, and
Tabby received great praise for her hour under the
table. The towns-people hastened their prepara-
tions, and had time to remove the most valuable
stores to neighboring towns; to mount their can-
non and drill their minute-men; for these resolute
farmers meant to resist oppression, and the world
knows how well they did it when the hour came.
Such an early spring had not been known for
years; and by the i9th of April fruit trees were in
bloom, winter grain was up, and the stately elms
that fringed the river and overarched the village
streets were budding fast. It seemed a pity that
such a lovely world should be disturbed by strife;
but liberty was dearer than prosperity or peace, and
the people leaped from their beds when young Dr.
Prescott came, riding for his life, with the message
Paul Revere brought from Boston in the night:
Arm arm the British are coming "
Like an electric spark the news ran from house
to house, and men made ready to fight, while the
brave women bade them go, and did their best to
guard the treasure confided to their keeping. A
little later, word came that the British were at
Lexington, and blood had been shed. Then the
farmers shouldered their guns with few words but
stern faces, and by sunrise a hundred men stood
ready with good Parson Emerson at their head.




More men were coming in from the neighboring
towns, and all felt that the hour had arrived when
patience ceased to be a virtue and rebellion was
Great was the excitement everywhere; but at
Captain David Brown's one little heart beat high
with hope and fear as Tabby stood at the door,
looking across the river to the town, where drums
were beating, bells ringing, and people hurrying to
and fro.
I can't fight, but I must see," she said; and
catching up her cloak, she ran over the North
Bridge, promising her aunt to return and bring her
word as soon as the enemy appeared.
What news-are they coming?" called the
people from the Manse and the few houses that
then stood along that road. But Tabby could only
shake her head and run the faster in her eagerness
to see what was happening on that memorable day.
When she reached the middle of the town she
found that the little company had gone along the
Lexington road to meet the enemy. Nothing
daunted, she hurried in that direction and, climb-
ing a high bank, waited to catch a glimpse of the
British grenadiers, of whom she had heard so
About seven o'clock they came, the sun glitter-
ing on the arms of eight hundred English soldiers
marching toward the hundred stout-hearted farmers,
who waited till they were within a few rods of them.
Let us stand our ground; and if we die, let us
die here," said brave Parson Emerson, still among
his people, ready for anything but surrender.
"Nay," said a cautious Lincoln man, "it will
not do for us to begin the war."
So they reluctantly fell back to the town, the
British following slowly, being weary with their
seven-mile march over the hills from Lexington.
Coming to a little brown house perched on the hill-
side, one of the thirsty officers spied a well, with
the bucket swinging at the end of the long pole.
Running up the bank, he was about to drink, when
a girl, who was crouching behind the well, sprang
up, and with an energetic gesture, flung the water
in his face, crying:
That 's the the way we serve spies !"
Before Ensign De Bernicre-for it was he, acting
as guide to the enemy- could clear his eyes and
dry his drenched face, Tabby was gone over the
hill with a laugh and a defiant gesture toward the
red-coats below.
In high feather at this exploit, she darted about
the town, watching the British at their work of
destruction. They cut down and burnt the liberty
pole, broke open sixty barrels of flour, flung five
hundred pounds of balls into the mill-pond and
wells, and set the court-house on fire. Other par-

ties were ordered to different quarters of the town
to ransack houses and destroy all the stores they
found. Captain Parsons was sent to take posses-
sion of the North Bridge, and De Bernicre led the
way, for he had taken notes on his former visit,
and was a good guide. As they marched, a little
scarlet figure went flying on before them, and van-
ished at the turn of the road. It was Tabby has-
tening home to warn her aunt.
Quick child, whip on this gown and cap and
hurry into bed. These prying fellows will surely
have pity on a sick girl, and respect this room if
no other," said Mrs. Brown, briskly helping Tabby
into a short night-gown and round cap, and tuck-
ing her well up when she was laid down, for be-
tween the plump feather beds were hidden many
muskets, the most precious of their stores. This
had been planned beforehand, and Tabby was
glad to rest and tell her tale while Aunty Brown
put physic bottles and glasses on the table, set
some evil-smelling herbs to simmer on the hearth,
and, compromising with her conscience, concocted
a nice little story to tell the invaders.
Presently they came, and it was well for Tabby
that the Ensign remained below to guard the doors
while the men ransacked the house from garret
to cellar, for he might have recognized the saucy
girl who had twice maltreated him.
These are feathers ; lift the covers carefully or
you '11 be half smothered, they fly about so," said
Mrs. Brown, as the men came to some casks of
cartridges and flints, which she had artfully ripped
up several pillows to conceal.
Quite deceived, the men gladly passed on, leav-
ing the very things they most wanted to destroy.
Coming to the bed-room, where more treasures of
the same valuable sort were hidden in various nooks
and corners, the dame held up her finger, saying,
with an anxious glance toward Tabby:
"Step softly, please. You would n't harm a
poor, sick girl. The doctor thinks it is small-pox,
and a fright might kill her. 1 keep the chamber
as fresh as I can with yarbs, so I guess there is n't
much danger of catching it."
The men reluctantly looked in, saw a flushed
face on the pillow (for Tabby was red with run-
ning, and her black eyes wild with excitement),
took a sniff at the wormwood and motherwort,
and with a hasty glance into a closet or two where
sundry clothes concealed hidden doors, hastily re-
tired to report the danger and get away as soon
as possible.
They would have been much disgusted at the
trick played upon them if they had seen the sick
girl fly out of bed and dance a jig of joy as they
tramped away to Barrett's Mills. But soon Tabby
had no heart for merriment as she watched the


minute-men gather by the bridge, saw the British
march down on the other side, and when their first
volley killed brave Isaac Davis and Abner Hosmer,
of Acton, she heard Major Buttrick give the order,
"Fire, fellow-soldiers; for God's sake, fire! "
For a little while shots rang, smoke rose, shouts
were heard, and red and blue coats mingled in
the struggle on the bridge. Then the British fell
back, leaving two dead soldiers behind them.
These were buried where they fell; and thebodies
of tl-.: ."-.*t..n i;r -ii --, .r i ,t 1-.-.1.- t.. t.l-. "i- P ,r

N ," l ,, l [ t ',, J. :i -a [ t[, 'ii

Bliss was confiscated by government. Some things
were sold at auction, and Captain Brown bought
the fine cloth and gave' it to Tabby, saying
There, my girl, that belongs to you, and you
may well be proud of it; for thanks to your quick
wits and eyes and ears we were not taken unawares,
but sent the red-coats back faster than they came."

.. "- .',,,

_c and many
have made
a pilgrim-
age to see the old monument set up where the
English fell, and the bronze Minute-Man, standing
on his granite pedestal to mark the spot where the
brave Concord farmers fired the shot that made
the old North Bridge immortal.
We must follow Tabby, and tell how she got
her table-cloth. When the fight was over, the
dead buried, the wounded cared for, and the pris-
oners exchanged, the Tories were punished. Dr.
Lee was confined to his own farm on penalty of
being shot if he left it, and the property of Daniel

.Ind T .i -, ..t',r I:... !.. .-- .fully,
,. ni.... l. n ,i.. n she
i i,. .. i ., !,, I.- l r.: !,, I..- a set
of napkins to go with it. It covered the table
when her wedding supper was spread, was used
at the christening of her first boy, and for many a
Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner through the
happy years of her married life.
Then it was preserved by her daughters as a
relic of their mother's youth, and long after the old
woman was gone, the well-worn cloth still appeared
on great occasions, till it grew too thin for any-
thing but careful keeping, to illustrate the story
so proudly told by the grandchildren, who found
it hard to believe that the feeble old lady of ninety
could be the lively lass who played her little part
in the Revolution with such spirit.


__. 'E q ,_ .. .


In 1861, Tabby's table-cloth saw another war,
and made an honorable end. When men were
called for, Concord responded Here and sent
a goodly number, led by another brave Colonel
Prescott. Barretts, H-osmers, Melvins, Browns,
and Wheelers stood shoulder to shoulder, as their
grandfathers stood that day to meet the British by
the bridge. Mothers said, "Go, my son," as
bravely as before, and sisters and sweethearts
smiled with wet eyes as the boys in blue marched
away again, cheered on by another noble Emerson.
More than one of Tabby's descendants went, some
to fight, some' to nurse; and for four long years
the old town worked and waited, hoped and
prayed, burying the dear dead boys sent home,
nursing those who brought back honorable wounds,
and sending more to man the breaches made by
the awful battles that filled both North and South
with a wilderness of graves.
The women knit and sewed, Sundays as well
as week days, to supply the call for clothes; the
men emptied their pockets freely, glad to give,
and the minister, after preaching like a Christian
soldier, took off his coat and packed boxes of
comforts like a tender father.
More lint and bandages called for, and I do
believe we 've torn and picked up every old rag
in the town," said one blsy lady to another, as
several sat together making comfort-bags in the
third year of the long struggle.
I have cleared my garret of nearly everything
in it, and only wish I had more to give," answered
one of the patriotic Barrett mothers.
We can't buy anything so soft and good as
worn-out sheets and table-cloths. New ones wont
do, or I'd cut up every one of mine," said a newly
married Wheeler, sewing for dear life, as she re-
membered the many cousins gone to the war.
I think I shall have to give our Revolutionary
table-cloth. It 's old enough, and soft as silk,
and I 'm sure my blessed grandmother would
think that it could n't make a better end," spoke
up white-headed Madam Hubbard, for Tabby
Tarbell had married one of that numerous and
worthy race.
Oh, you would n't cut up that famous cloth,
would you? cried the younger woman.
Yes, I will. It's in rags, and when I 'm gone
no one will care for it. Folks don't seem to re-
member what the women did in those days, so it's
no use keeping relics of 'em," answered the old
lady, who would have owned herself mistaken if
she could have looked forward to 1876, when the
town celebrated its centennial, and proudly ex-
hibited the little scissors with which Mrs. Barrett
cut paper for cartridges, among other ancient
trophies of that earlier day.

So the ancient cloth was carefully made into.
a box-full of the finest lint and softest squares to
lay on wounds, and sent to one of the Concord
women who had gone as a nurse.
Here 's a treasure she said, as she came to-
it among other comforts newly arrived from home.
Just what I want for my brave Rebel and poor
little Johnny Bullard."
The brave Rebel" was a Southern man who
had fought well and was badly wounded in many
ways, yet never complained; and in the midst of
great suffering was always so courteous, patient,
and courageous, that the men called him our
gentleman," and tried to show how much they
respected so gallant a foe. John Bullard was an
English drummer boy, who had been through
several battles, stoutly'drumming away in spite of
bullets and cannon-balls; cheering many a camp-
fire with his voice, for he sang like a blackbird,
and was always merry, always plucky, and so great
a favorite in his regiment, that all mourned for
"little Johnny" when his right arm was shot off at
Gettysburg. It was thought he would die ; but he
pulled through the worst of it, and was slowly
struggling back to health, still trying to be gay,
and beginning to chirp feebly now and then, like
a convalescent bird.
Here, Johnny, is some splendid lint for this
poor arm, and some of the softest compresses for
Carrol's wound. He is asleep, so I '11 begin with
you, and while I work I'll amuse you with the story
of the old table-cloth this lint came from," said
Nurse May, as she stood by the bed where the
thin, white face smiled at her, though the boy
dreaded the hard quarter of an hour he had to
endure every day.
Thanky, mum. We 'ave n't 'ad a story for
a good bit. I 'm 'arty this morning and think I '11
be hup by this day week, wont I ? "
I hope so. Now shut your eyes and listen ; then
you wont'mind the twinges I give you, gentle as I
try to be," answered the nurse, beginning her pain-
ful task.
Then she told the story of Tabby's table-cloth,
and the boy enjoyed it immensely, laughing out at
the slapping and the throwing water in the ensign's
face, and openly rejoicing when the red-coats got
the worst of it.
"As we 've beaten all the rest of the world, I
don't mind our havingg bad luck that time. We
har' friends now, and I '11 fight for you, mum, like
a British bull-dog, if I hever get the chance," said
Johnny, when the tale and dressing were ended.
"So you shall. I like to turn a brave enemy
into a faithful friend, as I hope we shall yet be able
to do with our Southern brothers. I admire their
courage and their loyalty to what they believe to be


right; and we are all suffering the punishment we
deserve for waiting till this sad war came, instead
of settling the trouble years ago, as we might have
done if we had loved honesty and honor more than
money and power."
As she spoke, Miss Hunt turned to her other
patient, and saw by the expression of his face that
he had heard both the tale and the talk. He smiled,
and said, "Good morning," as usual, but when
she stooped to lay a compress of the soft, wet
damask on the angry wound in his breast, he
whispered, with a grateful look:
"You have changed one 'Southern brother'
from an enemy into a friend. Whether I live or
die, I never can forget how generous and kind you
have all been to me."
"Thank you! It is worth months of anxiety
and care to hear such words. Let us shake hands,

and do our best to make North and South as good
friends as England and America now are," said the
nurse, offering her hand.
Me, too I 've got one 'and left, and I give it
ye with all me 'art. God bless ye, sir, and a lively
getting hup for the two of us cried Johnny,
stretching across the narrow space that divided the
beds, with a beaming face and true English readi-
ness to forgive a fallen foe when he had proved a
brave one.
The three hands met in a warm shake, and the
act was a little lesson more eloquent than words
to the lookers-on; for the spirit of brotherhood
that should bind us all together worked the miracle
of linking these three by the frail threads spun a
century ago.
So Tabby's table-cloth did make a beautiful and
useful end at last.





.7 -i.. ix

...... ...


OH, the winds were all a-blowing down the blue, blue sky,
And the tide was outward flowing, and the rushes flitted by;
All the lilies seemed to quiver
On the fair and dimpled river,
All the west was golden red;
We were children four together,
In the pleasant autumn weather,
And merrily down we sped.


~9-~k~L *~O~i *--~


Oh, the town-behind us faded in the pale, pale gray,
As we left the river shaded, and we drifted down the bay;
And across the harbor bar,
Where the hungry breakers are,-
You and Grace, and Tom and I,-
To the Golden Land, with laughter,
Where we 'd live in peace thereafter,
Just beyond the golden sky.

Oh, the winds were chilly growing o'er the gray, gray sea,
When a white-winged bark came blowing o'er the billows on our lee.
Cried the skipper, all a-wonder:
"Mercy on us! over yonder-
Bear a hand, my lads, with me-
Four young children all together,
In this pleasant evening weather,
Go a-drifting out to sea!"

All our prayers were unavailing, all our fond, fond hopes,
For our Golden Land had vanished with its fair and blooming slopes
As the skipper, with loud laughter,
Towed our little shallop after,-
Homeward, by the dreary bay.
Fast our childish tears were flowing,
Chill the western wind was blowing,
And the gold had turned to gray.


BY R. T.

I WILL not speak of "pangs sincere,"
Of "loves" and doves" by poets sung:
Since you are still a trifle young
To understand such things, my dear:-

But only ask you "to be mine"
Till he, who, some day, is to win
Your love,-(the young scamp !)-shall step in
And claim you for his Valentine.



4~~ -,, -.

'.,LI I r

-, L I z






THE Emperor Charles IV., of Germany, who
reigned from 1348 to 1378, was a great lover and
patron of the Fine Arts, and in Prague, the capital
of Bohemia, a school arose under his care which is
important in the history of art, since from it what
is called German art may be dated. We know that
the Emperor was very liberal and employed Italian
artists, as well as those from all parts of Germany,
to work in his favorite Prague; but so little is
known of the lives of the earliest masters or of the
authorship of the few pieces of ancient painting
which remain, that I shall not attempt to tell you
anything about them.
There were other early schools of painting at
Cologne, Colmar, Ulm, Augsburg, Westphalia,
and Nuremburg. I shall tell you of the great mas-
ter of the latter school; but, before speaking of
him, I shall say something of Nuremburg itself,
which was a very important place during the fif-
teenth and sixteenth centuries, and is still a city of
great interest to travelers.
Nuremburg was a place of consideration even in
the time of the Emperor Henry IV., who ennobled
thirty-eight families there. In 1219, Henry V. raised
it to the rank of a free imperial city, and during the
middle ages it was very important on account of its
enormous traffic between the great sea-port of
Venice and the countries of the East, and all north-
ern Europe. Through its commerce it became a
very rich city, and its'burghers established manu-
factories of various sorts, and so built up its trade
that skillful artisans flocked there, and many discov-
eries were made which still have a great influence
in the world.
The first paper-mill in Germany was in Nurem-
burg, and Koberger's printing-house, with its twen-
ty-four presses, was so attractive to authors that
they settled at Nuremburg in order the more con-
veniently to oversee the printing of their works.
Watches, called Nuremburg Eggs," were first
made about 1500; the clarionet was invented there,
and church organs were better made than in any
other German town. A new composition of brass,
the air-gun, and wire-drawing machinery were
all Nuremburg devices. The filigree silver and
gold work,-the medals, images, seals and other
artistic jewelry which were made by the ir i .-, i.
goldsmiths who dwelt there,-were famous far and
wide; and this variety of manufactures was in-

creased by Hirschvogel, an artisan who traveled
in Italy and learned to make majolica. His factory,
established at Nuremburg in 1507, was the first in
all Germany in which such ware was made. It is
not certain that playing-cards were invented in
Nuremburg, but they were manufactured there as
early as 1380, and cannon were cast there in 1356;
previous to this they had been made of iron bars
soldered together lengthwise and held in place by
hoops. In short, the manufacturers of Nuremburg
were so widely known as to give rise to a proverb,
"Nuremburg's hand,
Goes through every land" ;

and thus the city had the sort of importance which
success and wealth bring to a person or a place.
But as this importance is not the highest and
best that can be gained, so it was not the most
lasting importance of Nuremburg, for all this
commercial and moneyed prosperity was lost; but
the fame which the city acquired on account of its
literary men, its artists, and their works, still re-
mains. I will not speak here of the authors and
scholars of the old city; but of its artists something
must be said.
At the close of the fifteenth and the beginning of
the sixteenth century, besides Albert Diirer, there
were Peter Vischer and his five sons, sculptors
and bronze casters ; Adam Krafft, sculptor; Veit
Stoss, a wonderful wood-carver, and a goodly
company of painters and engravers whose works
and names are still admired and respected. When
we consider all these advantages that Nuremburg
enjoyed, we do not think it strange that she should
have been called the Gothic Athens."
Diirer's time was an interesting one in the his-
tory of Europe, or, we may say, of the world. He
was born twenty-one years before Columbus dis-
covered America. In his day, too, Vasco di Gama
sailed the southern seas; Copernicus wrote of his
observations and discoveries, and all Europe was
deeply agitated by the preaching of the Reforma-
tion by Martin Luther. Men of thought and power
were everywhere discussing great questions; the
genius of invention was active; the love of the
beautiful was indulged, and the general wealth
and prosperity of Europe supported the artists and
encouraged them to strive for great attainments.
Diirer was the friend of Gian Bellini, of Raphael,
Quintin Matsys, Lucas van Leyden, ahd many
other artists, as well as of many people in high

Copyright, 188i, by Clara Erskine Clement. All rights reserved.


position in all parts of Germany, and in some
other countries; and if he did not actually found
a new school of art, he certainly perfected that
which already existed in his country; and since
he was not only a painter, an architect, sculptor,
but engraver, and writer upon art, his influence
upon his time and nation can scarcely be over-
Was born at Nuremburg in 1471. His father was
a master goldsmith, and had eighteen children
born to him-seven daughters and eleven sons.
We can understand how he must have toiled to
care for all these children; and besides the toil
he had great sorrows, for fifteen children died.
Three sons only, Albert, Andreas, and Hans,
reached mature age. The portraits which Albert
painted of his father show so serious and worn a
face, that one sees in them the marks his struggles
had left. We also know that he was a man much
respected; for though he was but a craftsman, he
was honored by the friendship of prominent men,
and the famous Koberger was godfather to the
baby Albert.
One of the advantages that the young Albert
had as a result of his father's position, was an
association with Willibald Pirkheimer, who was
about his own age and of a rich and patrician
family. Through this friendship, Albert saw some-
thing of a more refined life than that in his father's
house, and was also able to learn certain things, in
which Willibald's tutors instructed him, that were
not taught to the sons of artisans. Among other
writings, Albert Diirer made a history of his fam-
ily, in which, speaking of his father, he said :

He had many troubles, trials, and adverse circumstances. But
yet from every one who knew him he received praise, because he
led an honorable Christian life, and was patient, giving all men
consideration, and thanking God. My dear father took
great pains with his children, bringing them up to the honor of God.
He made us know what was agreeable to others, as well as to our
Maker, so that we might become good neighbors; and every day
he talked to us of these things, the love of God, and the conduct
of life."
From his earliest years Albert Diirer loved
drawing, and there are sketches in existence made
when he was a mere child; there is a portrait of
himself in the Albertina at Vienna, upon which is
written, This I have drawn from myself from
the looking-glass, in the year 1484, when I was
still a child.-ALBERT DtRER." The expression
of the face is sad; it was painted in the same
year that his father took him into his workshop,
intending to make a goldsmith of him. Doubtless,
the training which he received here was to his
advantage, and gave him the wonderful delicacy
and accuracy of execution which he showed in his
later works. He writes of this time:

But my love was toward painting, much more than toward the
goldsmith's craft. When at last I told my father of my inclination,
he was not well pleased, thinking of the time I had been under him
as lost if I turned a painter. But he left me to have my will; and
in the year 1486, on St. Andrew's Day, he settled me apprentice
with Michael Wohlgemuth, to serve him for three years. In that
time God gave me diligence to learn well, in spite of the pains I had
to suffer from the other young men."

This last sentence doubtless refers to rudeness
and jeering from his companions, to which he was
quite unaccustomed. The art of his master was
not of a high order, and we doubt if Albert Diirer
learned anything from him beyond the mechanical
processes, such as the mixing of colors and facility
in using his brush. But in his walks about Nurem-
burg he was always seeing something that helped
him to form himself as an artist. Nuremburg still
retains its antique beauty, and much of it remains
as he saw it; there are narrow streets, with quaint
houses, gable-roofed, with arched portals and mull-
ioned windows; splendid Gothic churches are there,
rich in external architecture, and containing ex-
quisite carvings and Byzantine pictures; it has
palaces and mansions inhabited to-day by families
whose knightly ancestors built them centuries ago.
The Castle, or Reichsveste, built on a rock, with its
three towers, seems to be keeping watch over the
country around; while the city walls, with their
numerous turrets, and the four arched gate-ways
with -their lofty watch-towers give the whole place
an air of great antiquity, and make even the
matter-of-fact traveler of to-day indulge in fanciful
dreams of the long ago, in which Diirer walked
those streets, and fed his rich fancy by gazing on
those same beauties of Nature, Architecture, and
It is probable that in Wohlgemuth's studio Diirer
did little but apprentice work on the master's
pictures. At all events, very few of his own draw-
ings of that time exist. In 1490 he painted a
portrait of his father, now in Florence, which was
rarely, perhaps never, surpassed by him in his
later years. The apprenticeship ended, Diirer
traveled and studied four years,- a time of which
we have very little accurate knowledge,-and in
1494 he settled himself as a painter and engraver
in his native city.
In the same year, Diirer was married to Agnes
Frey. It would seem, from his own words in his
diary, that the match was made by the parents of
the young people. It has often been said that she
was a great scold and made him very unhappy;
but more recent and careful research shows that
this story rests upon very slight foundation, and
nothing in Diirer's own writings would indicate any
unhappiness in his home. Agnes Diirer was a very
handsome woman; but, though several portraits
are called by her name, we have no positive knowl-




edge that her husband ever made a portrait of her.
It was in the same year (1494) of his settlement
and marriage that he was made a member of the
guild of painters at Nuremburg. Thus, when
twenty-three years old, he had studied, made
his student's journey, and was honorably estab-
lished in his native city.
Albert Diirer is more famous and more widely
known as an engraver than as a painter. His first
copper-plate engraving was made in 1497, and from
that time he executed numerous works of this kind.
The first impressions from his early engravings are
now sought with great eagerness by connoisseurs
and collectors. One of the first was St. Jerome's
Penance," a good impression of which was sold a
few years ago for five hundred dollars. In 1498
Diirer published his first series of wood-cuts illus-
trating the Apocalypse of St. John. These cuts
marked a new era in wood engraving, and showed
what possibilities it contained. Before this time it
had been a rude art, chiefly used by uneducated
monks. There are one hundred and seventy-four
wood-cuts attributed to Diirer. The other impor-
tant series are the Great and Little Passion,"
showing the sufferings of Christ, and the Life
of the Virgin."
There has been much dispute at various times as
to whether the master executed his plates with his
own hands; it would seem to be the most reason-
able conclusion that he did the work himself upon
his earliest plates, but that, later, he must have
allowed his assistants to perform the mechanical
labor after his designs.
Many of Diirer's engravings would seem very
ugly to you; and, indeed, to many well-trained
critics there is little to admire in his subjects or his
mode of presenting them. He often chose such
scenes as remind us only of death, sorrow, and sin.
Again, his grotesque and fantastic humor was
shown; and nothing more wild and unusual could
be imagined than some of his fancies which he
made almost immortal through his great artistic
power. A wood-cut called the Triumphal Arch
of Maximilian is two and a half feet high and
nine feet wide; it was composed of ninety-two
blocks, and all the remarkable events in the
Emperor's life are illustrated in it, as well as many
symbolical figures and pictures expressive of his
praise, nobility, and power.
It is said that, while this engraving was being
finished by the engraver Rosch, the Emperor drove
often to see it. On one occasion several of Rosch's
pet cats ran into the presence of the sovereign, and
from this incident arose the proverb, "A cat may
look at a king."
Of his copper-plate engravings, cmie of the
more important are The Nativity The Great

and the Little Horse," Melancholy," and The
Knight and Death." The last is the most celebrated
of all, and no one can say exactly what it means. It
shows a knight in full panoply, who rides through
a rocky defile Satan is pursuing him and clutch-
ing after him, while Death is at his side and holds
up an hour-glass. Some interpreters say that the
Knight is a wicked one, whom Satan owns, and
Death warns to repent; others give the Knight a
name, and several men of the time are mentioned
as being in Diirer's mind; and some say that he
stands for Diirer himself, when overcome by temp-
tation and fear. But let it mean what it may, it is
a wonderful work, and Kugler says: I believe I
do not exaggerate when I particularize this print
as the most important work which the fantastic
spirit of German art has ever produced."
It has been said that Diirer invented the process
of etching; it is more probable that he perfected
an older discovery; very few of his etchings remain
in existence.
As a sculptor, Diirer executed some remarkable
works in ivory, boxwood, and stone; he also designed
some excellent medals. In the British Museum
there is a relief, seven and a half by five and a half
inches in size, which was bought about eighty
years ago for two thousand five hundred dollars.
It is in cream-colored stone, and represents the
birth of St. John the Baptist. It was executed in
1510, and is very remarkable for its exquisite detail,
which was doubtless a result of his early training
as a goldsmith, when he learned to do very exact
and delicate work. His carvings are seen in vari-
ous places in Europe, and prove that he might
have succeeded as a sculptor had he chosen that
Besides his family history and diary, Diirer wrote
some poetry, but none of importance. His first
noticeable literary work was The Art of Mensura-
tion," which was published in 1525, and was a suc-
cessful book. He also wrote Some Instruction in
the Fortification of Cities, Castles, and Towns,"
but his greatest achievement as a writer was the
"Four Books of Human Proportion." It was not
published until after his death, and its importance
is shown by the fact that it passed through several
German editions, besides three in Latin, and two
each in Italian, French, Portuguese, Dutch, and
English. He wrote, too, upon architecture, music,
and various departments of painting, such as color,
landscape, and so on.
As an architect, we can say but little of Diirer;
for while his writings prove that he had a good
knowledge of architecture, he executed but few-
works in that department of art, and we have slight
knowledge of these. It remains only to speak of
his paintings, which are not numerous, but still



exist in galleries in various parts of Europe. Many
of them are portraits, the finest of which still
remains in Nuremburg, though enormous sums
have been offered for it. It represents Jerome
Holzschuher, who was a remarkably strong man in
character; it was painted in 1526, and retains its
rich, vivid coloring. His portraits of his father and
of himself are very interesting, and all his works of
this sort are strong, rich pictures. Among his
religious pictures the "Feast of Rose Garlands"
is very prominent. It was painted in Venice, in
the yeat 1506. Diirer worked seven months on this
picture, and by it contradicted those who had said
:that he was a good engraver, but knew not how
to deal with colors." It brought him great fame,
and was sold from the church where it was origi-
nally placed to the Emperor Rudolf II., who
had it borne on men's shoulders from Venice to
Prague, in order to avoid the injuries which might
*come from other modes of removing it. In 1782,
it was sold by Joseph II., and has since been in
the monastery of Strabow, at Prague; it has been
much restored and is seriously injured. In the
background, on the right, are the figures of Diirer
and Pirkheimer, who remained the friend of his
age as of his childhood.
An earlier work is the Adoration of the Kings,"
in the Tribune of the Uffizi, at Florence; this is
one of his best paintings. Theyears from 1507 to
1526 were the most fruitful of good work in the
life of this master, and in 1526 he painted two
pictures which,. for some reasons, are the most
interesting of all he did. They were the result of
his best thought, and may be called the first com-
plete work of art produced by Protestantism. They
represent the Apostles John and Peter, Mark and
Paul. He put upon them inscriptions from the
Gospels and the Epistles, urging the danger of
departing from the Word of God or believing in
false prophets; and the figures, bearing the Script-
ures in their hands, seem to be the faithful guar-
dians of God's law.
There is an old tradition that these figures rep-
resent the Four Temperaments: thus, in the first,
St. Peter with a hoary head and reposeful air, bend-
ing over the book in the hands of St. John, repre-
sents the phlegmatic temperament, ever tranquil
in its reflections;- St. John, with his earnest,
thoughtful face stands for the melancholic.temper-
ament, which pushes its inquiries to the profound-
est depths;- these two represent the inward life,
that from which comes conviction. In the second
picture the effect of this upon action and daily life is
shown : St. Mark, in the background, represents
the sanguine temperament; he looks around ap-
pealingly and hopefully, as if urging others to
search the Scriptures for the same good which he

has found in them ; while St. Paul stands in front
bearing the book and the sword, looking severely
over his shoulder, as if ready to defend the
Word and punish by the sword any who should
show it disrespect: he stands for the choleric
These two pictures are executed in a masterly
manner-there is a sublimity of expression in
them, a majestic repose and perfect simplicity in
the movement, and in the folds of the drapery all
is in keeping. The color, too, is warm and true
to nature ; no touch of the fantastic is felt; in these
pictures, Albert Direr reached the summit of his
power and stood on a plane with the great masters
of the world.
When they were completed, Diirer presented
them to the council of Nuremburg as a remem-
brance of himself as an artist, and as teaching his
fellow-citizens an earnest lesson as was suited to
the stormy time in which they lived. The coun-
cil accepted the gift, placed the pictures in the
council house and .sent a present of money to
Diirer and his wife. A century later, the Elector
Maximilian of Bavaria determined to have these
panels at any cost; he bribed and threatened, and
at last the council of Nuremburg, afraid of his an-
ger, sent the pictures to Munich after having copies
made by John Fischer, upon which were placed
the original inscriptions, as it was thought best to
cut them off from Diirer's own work, lest they
.should not please a Catholic Prince. So it hap-
pened that the originals are in the Munich gallery,
and the copies in the town picture .. -i- now in
the Rathhaus of Nuremburg.
I shall not stay to describe more of his paintings,
for I wish to resume the account of DLirer's life.
As stated, it was in 1494 that he married and set-
tled in his native city. About 15oo, Willibald
Pirkheimer returned from military service and re-
newed his friendship with Diirer. At his house
the artist met many eminent men-scholars and
reformers; and while he was admired and appreci-
ated for his own genius and accomplishments, he
himself gained much greater and better knowl-
edge of the world in this society than his previous
narrow life had given him.
In 1502, Diirer's father died and the son quaintly
and tenderly related the closing scenes of the old
man's life, and mourned his own loss. Within the
next two years Diirer -.."1 hI.mother and his
youngest brother to his own home, while his
brother Andreas was thus left free to go on a
student journey as a goldsmith.
In 1505, after several years of continuous indus-
try, Diirer made a journey to Venice ; he arrived
there whei-Giovanni Bellini was the leader of the
Venetian artiais and Carpaccio was painting his





,1~-. ---



VOL. XI.-19.

":~~ a



pictures of St. Ursula. Titian and Giorgione
were then becoming more and more famous, and
before Diirer left their city he was employed at
the same time with them in painting for the Fon-
daco dei 'Tedeschi, or the company of Germans
in Venice. The letters which Diirer wrote at this
time to his friend Pirkheimer are of much interest;
during the Thirty Years' War in Germany, these
letters were walled up in the Imhoff mansion, and
were discovered at a much later time.
It is said that Bellini was much pleased with
Diirer's painting, especially with his manner of
representing hair. One day he begged the German
to give him the brush which he used for it; upon
this, Direr took one of his common .brushes and
painted a long tress of woman's hair, while Bellini
looked on admiringly and declared that had he
not seen it he could not have believed it. Diirer
wrote of the kindness he received from gentle-
men, but said that the artists were not so favorable
to him. He was very sensitive to their criticisms ;
and when he had finished his Rose Garlands, wrote
that the Doge and the Patriarch had been to his
studio to see it; that he had contradicted those
who said that he could not use colors, and added,
"There is no better picture of the Virgin Mary in
the land, because all the artists praise it, as well
as the nobility. They say they have never seen a
more sublime, a more charming painting."
Pirkheimer was constantly urging Diirer to re-
turn home, and Agnes Diirer was very unhappy at
the long absence of her husband. The artist
dreaded his return. He said, Oh, how I shall
freeze after this sunshine Here, I am a gentle-
man-at home, only a parasite! He was forced
to refuse many commissions that were offered him,
as well as a government pension of two hundred
ducats; but he thought it his duty to return to
Nuremburg. On his way, he visited Bologna; and
through pictures which he left there, Raphael's at-
tention was turned to him in such a manner that
an intimate correspondence and an exchange of
pictures occurred between him and Diirer. It
was a fortunate thing for the interest of paint-
ing that Diirer did not remain in Italy; had he
done so, he would, without doubt, have modified
his striking individuality, and his strength and
quaintness would have been lost to German art.
From 1507, Diirer was the teacher of many
students in painting and engraving, and his studio
was a hive of busy workmen. During this time the
artist was at the height of his productiveness, and
worked at painting, engraving, and carving; dur-
ing seven years from this date, besides his pictures,
he made more than a hundred wood-cuts and forty-
eight engravings and etchings. These last were
very salable. The religious excitement of the time

made a great demand for his engravings of the
Passion, the Virgin and Saints; and his income
was so increased as to enable him to live very
In 1509, Diirer finished the Coronation of the
Virgin" for the merchant, Heller. It was an im-
portant picture, now known only by a copy at
Nuremburg, as the original was burned in the
palace at Munich about 1673. There was some
dispute about, the price, two hundred florins, and
Dilrer wrote to Heller, I should become a beggar
by this means; henceforward I will stick to my en-
graving; and, if I had done so before, I should be
richer by a thousand florins than I am to-day."
This seems to explain the reason of his cuts being
so much more numerous than his paintings.
The house in which Diirer lived is now pre-
served as public property in Nuremburg. It is
occupied by a society of artists, who guard it from
injury; and a street which passes it is called Albert
Diirer's street. Here he lived in much comfort,
though not luxury, as we may know from a mem-
orandum which he wrote before his death, in
which he said:
"Regarding the belongings I have amassed by my own handi-
work, I have not had a great chance to become rich, and have had
plenty of losses; having lent without being repaid, and my work-
men have not reckoned with me; also my agent at Rome died, after
using up my property. Still, we have good house furnish-
ing, clothing, costly things in earthenware, professional fittings-up,
bed-furnishings, chests, and cabinets; and my stock of colors is
worth one hundred guldens."
In 1512, Durer was first employed by the Em-
peror Maximilian, whose life was pictured in the
great print of the Triumphal Arch." It is said that
this sovereign made Diirer a noble; and we know
he granted the artist a pension of two hundred
dollars a year, which was not always promptly
paid. Diirer related that, one day, when he was
working on a sketch for the Emperor, his Majesty
tried to make a drawing himself, using a charcoal-
crayon; but he had great trouble on account of its
breaking, and complained that he could do nothing
with it. The artist took the crayon from his hand,
saying, This is my sceptre, your Majesty," and
then taught the sovereign how to.use it.
Of the death of his mother Diirer wrote a par-
ticular account, from which I give an extract:

"Now you must know that in the year 1513, on a Tuesday in
Cross-week, my poor, unhappy mother, whom I had taken under
my charge two years after my father's death, because she was then
quite poor, and who had lived with me for nine years, was taken
deathly sick on one morning early, so that we had to break open her
room; for we knew not, as she could not get up, what to do. *
And her custom was to go often to church; and she always punished
me when I did not act rightly; and she always took great care to
keep me and my brothers from sin; and whether I went in or out,
her constant word was, 'In the name of Christ' ; and with great
diligence she constantly gave us holy exhortations, and had great
care over our souls."



She lived still a year, and the artist wrote:
"I prayed for her and had such great grief for her that I can never
express. ; And she was sixty-three years old when she died;
and I buried her honorably, according to my means. *
And in her death she looked still more lovely than she was in her
In 152o, Diirer, with his wife and her maid,
Susanna, made the tour of the Netherlands. His

.....- -


principal object in this journey was to see the new
emperor, Charles V., and obtain a confirmation
of the pension which Maximilian had granted him
and, if possible, the appointment of court-painter
also. This tour was made when there was great
wealth and prosperity all through .the Low Coun-
tries, and Diirer's journal was filled with wonder
at the prosperity and magnificence which he saw.
At Antwerp he met Quintin Matsys, of whom we
have already spoken, and other Flemish painters,
and writes :

"On St. Oswald's Day, the painters invited me to their hall,
with my wife and maid; and everything, there, was of silver and
other costly ornamentation, and extremely costly viands. There
were also their wives there; and when I was conducted to the
table, all the people stood up on each side, as if I had been a great
lord. There were amongst them also many persons of distinction,
who all bowed low, and in the most humble manner testified their
pleasure at seeing me, and they said they would do all in their
power to give me pleasure. And, as I sat at -able, there came in
the messenger of the Rath of Antwerp, who presented me with four
tankards of wine in the name of the magistrates; and he said that

they desired to honor me with this, and that I should have their
good-will. And for a long time we were very merry
together, until quite late in the night; then they accompanied us
home with torches in the most honorable manner, and they begged
us to accept their good-will, and said they would do whatever I
desired that might be of assistance to me.

While at Antwerp, Diirer met many notable
people, and painted some portraits; he also sold
many engravings, and all his business matters are
recorded in his journal. The Portuguese consul
sent a large quantity of sweetmeats and a green
parrot to Agnes Diirer, and her husband in return
presented the consul with several score of engrav-
ings. It would be a curious thing to know where
these prints are now, and we wonder how much
the consul then prized what would now be of such
great value. He went to Brussels with Tomasin
Florianus, and was there entertained with great
honors, and was well received by the Regent
Margaret, who promised to interest herself in his
behalf at the imperial court. Of this visit he wrote :

"And 1 have seen King Charles's house at Brussels, with its
fountains, labyrinth, and park. It gave me the greatest pleasure;
and a more delightful thing, and more like a paradise, I have never be-
fore seen. At Brussels, there is a town hall, built of hewn
stone, with a splendid transparent tower. I also have been
into the Nassau house, which is built in such a costly style and so
beautifully ornamented. And I saw the two beautiful large rooms,
and all the costly things in the house everywhere, and also the
great bed in which fifty men might lie; and I have also seen the
big stone which fell in a thunder-storm in a field. Also I
have seen the thing which has been brought to the King from the new
Golden Land (Mexico), a sun of gold a fathom broad, and a silver
moon just as big Likewise, two rooms full of armor; likewise, all
kinds of arms, harness, and wonderful missiles, very strange clothing,
bed-gear, and all kind of the most wonderful things for man's use,
that are as beautiful to behold as they are wonderful. These things
are all so costly, that they have been valued at ioc,ooo gulden. And
I have never, in all the days of my life, seen anything that has so
much rejoiced my heart as these things. For I have seen among
them wonderfully artistic things, and I have wondered at the subtle
talents of men in foreign lands."

I must make one more quotation from his jour-
nal, which describes a brilliant scene :

I saw a great procession from Our Lady's Church at Antwerp,
when the whole town was assembled, artisans and people of every
rank, every one dressed in the most costly manner, according to his
station. Every class and every guild had its badge, by which it
might be recognized; large and costly tapers were also borne by
some of them. There were also long silver trumpets of the old
Frankish fashion. There were also many German pipers and
drummers, who piped and drummed their loudest. Also I saw in
the street, marching in a line in regular order, with certain distances
between, the goldsmiths, painters, stone-masons, embroiderers,
sculptors, joiners, carpenters, sailors, fish-mongers, and
all kinds of artisans who are useful in producing the necessaries
of life. In the same way there were the shopkeepers and merchants,
and their clerks. After these came the marksmen, with firelocks,
bows, and cross-bows; some on horseback, and some on foot. After
that came the City Guards; and at last a mighty and beautiful
throng of different nations and religious orders, superbly costumed,
and each distinguished from the other very piously. I remarked
in this procession a troop of widows who lived by their labor.
They all had white linen cloths covering their heads, and reaching
down to their feet, very seemly to behold. Behind them I saw
many brave persons, and the canons of Our Lady's Church, with all




;Z j


.. --, ,,!-
=~ J --._ --1:":', -,r.. -'I

I I" -



the clergy and bursars*. There were brought along
many wagons, with moving ships, and other things. Then fol-
lowed the Prophets, all in order; the New Testament, showing the
Salutation of the Angel; the three Holy Kings on their camels,
and other rare wonders very beautifully arranged. At the
last came a great dragon, led by St. Margaret and her maidens, who
were very pretty; also St. George, with his squire, a very hand-
some Courlandert. Also a great many boys and girls, dressed in the
most costly and ornamental manner, according to the fashion of
different countries, rode in this troop, and represented as many
saints. This procession from beginning to end was more than two
hours passing by our house; and there were so many things that I
could never write them all down, even in a book, and so I leave it
It is very curious to note how much the grand
processions of two hundred and fifty years ago in
Antwerp resembled those we see now on great oc-
casions there.
Diirer went to Aix-la-Chapelle and witnessed the
coronation of the Emperor Charles V. and saw all
the relics and the wonders of this capital of Char-
lemagne. He next visited Cologne, and at last, in
November, he succeeded in attaining the object for
which, first of all, he had made his journey, which
was the confirmation by the Emperor of the pen-
sion which Maximilian had granted him and his
appointment as court-painter. He returned to
Antwerp and made several other excursions, one
of which was to Zealand, a province of Holland
bordering on the North Sea, to see a whale which
had been stranded on the coast, but before Diirer
reached the place the tide had carried the huge
creature to sea again.
And so the journal continues to give accounts of
sight-seeings and pleasurings, interrupted at times
by some work at his profession. He also records
his expenses, the gifts, too, which he made and
those he received, until finally he returned to Nu-
remburg late in the year 1521.
Two very famous men had died while he was
traveling, Martin Luther and Raphael. Diirer
tried hard to get some drawings by the great artist,
and we do not know whether or not he succeed-
ed. The notes in his journal at the time of Lu-
ther's death are very interesting and prove that he
had much sympathy with Protestants, although it
is believed that he remained a Roman Catholic all
his life. He wrote:
He was a man enlightened by the Holy Ghost and a follower of
the true Christian faith. He has suffered much for Christ's sake
and because he has rebuked the unchristian papacy which strives
against the freedom of Christ with its heavy burdens of human laws;
never were any people so horribly burdened will ordinances
as us poor people by the Romish see; 0 O God, is Luther
dead ? who will henceforth explain to us so clearly the Holy Gospel ?
0 all pious Christian men, bewail with me this God-inspired ian,
and pray God to send us another enlightened teacher."

When Diirer reached home he found that a great
religious change had occurred there, and during
the rest of his life he made no more pictures of

the Virgin Mary ; he made two engravings of St.
Christopher bearing the child Jesus safely through
the floods, as symbols of his belief that faithful men
would carry- true Christianity through all troubles
and bring it out triumphant at last. Nuremburg
was the first free imperial city of the Empire
that declared itself Protestant; Diirer's friend,
Pirkheimer, was one of those whom the Pope
excommunicated. It is most fortunate that the
change of religion in this grand old town was made
so quietly and moderately that there was no de-
struction of the churches or of the art-treasures in
which it was so rich. Many of them remain there
to this day.
Diirer had contracted a disease in Zealand, which
seems to have been a sort of low fever; it under-
mined his health and never left him for the rest of
his life, and on account of this he did much less
work than ever before. He paid much attention to
the publishing of his writings, and made a few por-
traits and the grand pictures of the Apostles which
I have described to you.
One of the results of his foreign tour afforded
much entertainment to his friends and to the
scholars of Nuremburg; he had brought home a
remarkable collection of curiosities all sorts of
rare things from various parts of Europe, India,
and even from America. He also gave to his
friends many presents that he had brought for
them; and his return, with his commission as court-
painter and an enormous amount of curious lug-
gage, made him a person of much consequence in
the Franconian capital. Charles V. spent very
little time in Nuremburg and practically required
small service from Diirer; it was not until after
Diirer's death that the Emperor became so fond
of having his portrait painted, and then Titian held
the position which had been made vacant by
Diirer's decease.
Diirer did not become rich, and an extract from
a letter which he wrote to the Council of Nurem-
burg, in 1524, has a sad feeling.in it. After ex-
plaining that he had laid by one thousand florins,
which he wished the Council to take and pay him
a comfortable rate of interest, he says:
"Your Wisdoms know that I have always been obedient, willing,
and diligent in all things done for your Wisdoms and for the com-
mon state, and for other persons of the Rath (Council), and that
the state has always had my help, art, and work, whenever they
were needed, and that without payment rather than for money; for
I can write with truth, that, during the thirty years that I have had
a house in this town, I have not had five hundred.guldens' worth
of work from it, and what I have had has been poor and mean,
and I have not gained the fifth part for it that it was worth ; but all
that I have earned, which God knows has only been by hard toil,
has been from. princes, lords, and other foreign persons. Also, I
have expended all my earnings from foreigners in this town. Also,
your Honors doubtless know that, on account of the many works I

* Bursars were treasurers or cash-keepers of colleges or convents.
t Courland is one of the Baltic provinces of Russia, largely inhabited by Germans.


had done for him, the late Emperor Maximilian, of praiseworthy
memory, out of his own imperial liberality, granted me an exemption
from the rates and taxes of this town, which, however, I voluntarily
gave up, when I was spoken to about it by the Elders of the Rath, in
order to show honor to my Lords, and to maintain their favor and
uphold their customs and justice.
"Nineteen years ago the Doge of Venice wrote to me, offering
me two hundred ducats a year if I would live in that city. More
lately the Rath of Antwerp, while I remained in the Low Countries,
also made me an offer, three hundred florins of Philippe a year and
a fair mansion to live in. In both places all that I did for the govern-
ment would have been paid over and above the pension. All of which,
out of my love for my honorable and wise Lords, for this town,

1528, exactly eight years from the day on which
Raphael had died. He was buried in the church-
yard of St. John, beyond the walls, in the lot of
his father-in-law, Hans Frey. This church-yard is
of great interest; the aristocrats of Nuremburg
have been buried there during many years. It.has
thirty-five hundred grave-stones, all of which are
numbered; and nearly all are decorated with coats-
of-arms and such devices as show the importance
of those buried here. Diirer's monument bears

- ~ ~ t. 2


and for my fatherland, I refused, and chose rather to live simply,
near your Wisdoms, than to be rich and great in any other place.
It is, therefore, my dutiful request to your Lordships, that you will
take all these things into your favorable consideration, and accept
these thousand florins, and grant me a yearly interest upon them of
fifty florins, so that I and my wife, who are daily growing old,
weak, and incapable, may have a moderate provision against want.
And I will ever do my utmost to deserve your noble Wisdoms' favor
and approbation, as heretofore."

The Council granted his request; but after his
death they reduced the interest to forty florins a
year, although in 1526 Diircr had presented to
them his splendid panels of the Apostles. This
meanness in money matters toward the great artist
almost reconciles us to the fact that these pictures
were taken away to Munich.
Diirer died suddenly at last, on the 6th of April,


this simple inscription, written by his friend Pirk-
-Which may be translated:
"In memory of Albert Diirer. Whatever was mortal of Albert
Direr is laid under this stone. He departed the eighth day before
the Ides of April, in the year of our Lord 1528."
It is said that Raphael, when he had studied
Diirer's engravings, exclaimed:
Of a truth this man would have surpassed us all if he had had
the masterpieces of art constantly before his eyes, as we have." And
John Andreas wrote of him : It is very surprising, in regard to that
man, that in a rude and barbarous age he was the first of the Ger-
mans who not only arrived at an exact imitation of nature, but has
likewise left no second; being so absolutely a master of it in all its




parts, -in etching, engraving, statuary, architecture, optics, sym-
metry, and the rest, that he had no equal except Michael Angelo
Buonarotti, his contemporary and rival; and he left behind him such
works as were too much for the life of one man."

On Easter Sunday in 1828, three hundred years
after his death, there was a tribute paid to his
memory, and a great procession of artists and
scholars from all parts of Germany was formed in
Nuremburg, and moved out to the church-yard of
St. John, where they sang such hymns above the
grave of the artist as he loved to hear in his life.
There can be nothing more appropriate with which
to close our study of Albert Diirer than the poem
of our own poet, Longfellow :

In the valley of the Pegnitz, where across broad meadow-lands
Rise the blue Franconian mountains, Nuremburg, the ancient,

Quaint old town of toil and traffic, quaint old town of art and
Memories haunt thy pointed gables, like the rooks that round
them throng :

Memories of the Middle Ages, when the emperors, rough and bold,
Had their dwelling in thy castle, time-defying, centuries old;

And thy brave and thrifty burghers boasted, in their uncouth
That their great, imperial city stretched its hand through every clime.

In the court-yard of the castle, bound with many an iron band,
Stands the mighty linden planted by Queen Cunigunde's hand;

On the square the oriel window, where in old, heroic days
Sat the poet Melchior singing Kaiser Maximilian's praise.

Everywhere I see around me rise the wondrous world of Art:
Fountains wrought with richest sculpture standing in the common

And above cathedral doorways saints and bishops carved in stone,
By a former age commissioned as apostles to our own.

In the church of sainted Sebald sleeps enshrined his holy dust,
And in bronze the Twelve Apostles guard from age to age their

In the church of sainted Lawrence stands a pix of sculpture rare,
Like the foamy sheaf of fountains, rising through the painted air.

Here, when Art was still religion, with a simple, reverent heart,
Lived and labored Albrecht Diirer, the Evangelist of Art;

Hence in silence and in sorrow, toiling still with busy hand,
Like an emigrant he wandered, seeking for the Better Land.

Emigravit is the inscription on the tombstone where he lies;
Dead he is not, but departed,-for the artist never dies.

The following is a list of the principal works by Albert Diirer to
be seen in European galleries:

ACADEMIA CARRARA, BERGAMO: Christ Bearing the Cross.
FLORENCE : Portrait of an Old Man, St. James the Apostle, Ma-
donna, Adoration of the Kings. CAPITOL rMUSEUM, ROME: A
Portrait. TRIPPENHUIS MUSEUM, ANTWERP: Portrait of Pirk-
heimer. GALLERY AT CASSEL: Portrait of a Man holding a Wreath
cf Roses. DRESDEN GALLERY : Christ on the Cross, Christ Bear-
ing the Cross, Portrait of Bernhard de Kessen. STXDEL GALLERY,
FRANKFORT : Portrait of his Father, Portrait of a Girl. PINAKOTHEK,
MUNICH: Six fine Portraits, The Nativity, Two Panels, with the
Apostles John and Peter, and Paul and Mark. GERMANIC MUSEUM,
NUREMaBURG: Fine Portrait of the Burgomaster, Holzschuher. GAL-
VEDERE, VIENNA: Portrait of Maximilian I., Two other Portraits,
Two Madonnas, The Holy Trinity Surrounded by Angels, King of
Persia Persecuting Christians. MUSEUM, MADRID: Adam, Eve,
His own Portrait. LOUVRE, PARIS Man's Head with a Red Cap.
STRAHOF MONASTERY : Feast of the Rose Garlands. HERMIT-
AGE, ST. PETERSBURG: Christ led to Calvary, Christ Bearing
His Cross, Portrait of the Elector of Saxony.

There are other pictures attributed to Direr in some galleries, the
genuineness of which may be doubted. There are also others in
private collections, churches, and so on; hut the total number of
those known to be Diirer's work is small-probably not more than
one hundred and fifteen in all.

* These stanzas from Longfellow's poem are here printed by kind permission of Messrs. Houghton, Mifflin & Co.

(A Valentine.)


IN summer days when passing by
A garden hedge of roses,
I said, "Ah me! the winter drear
No bloom like this discloses! "

But winter came; and when the wind
All frosty, keen was blowing,
I met each morn a little maid,
With cheeks so redly glowing:

I said, Why! here again I find
The roses I lamented!
And summer flowers no more regret,
With winter's bloom contented."



-, ,. -, --.


-1 .

S i' .


L, '. P' CRANCH.

- '. :.|,i-,!! :,, i -i otherss proved
i. ':,ir, :r ..,,I -il. and 't was the Earth that

FIl:: iii, .-\,I..!II-. *. I11 freshm en know,
..-,: ii -.r.'- .:.:-liman. This was long ago.
.-.. i: l,. :I:-. i..,-, east to west all day
ii .ir.. ,:. L.t r.,...: io passengers or pay.
.- [! :i.-! rl 'i, i 'as; and there was none
'.,ir I:. .:..i. I :- this chariot of the Sun.
ii': *,iI :. -!: -.o long as in his hand
H.. !.:i. [h.: .,,, .i.,-L kept supreme command.

Iu ii i '
lIm b iI i I. i i. ,
..:. I ht IIIIII. !I [

,ild, conceited son,
*-uth, named Phaeton,
i-ither mount his car
!,ke a great.shooting-star;
..uld be, could he contrive.
.1,r and take a drive!

The mischief of it was, Apollo loved
The boy so well that once his heart was moved
To promise him whatever he might ask.
He never thought how hard would be the task
To keep .his.word. So, one day, Phaeton
Said to his sire, "I 'd like to drive your Sun-
That is, myself-dear sir, excuse the pun,-



WELVE hours through space. You know you
promised once
SWhatever I might ask."
i. "I was a dunce,"
/ Apollo said. My foolish love for you,
.;,' -= I fear, my son, that I shall sadly rue.
I Lend you my chariot? No; -I really can't.
Is n't there something else that I can grant
Instead of this? A serious thing 't would be
'i. To have my horses run away, you see.
S'' You might bring ruin on the earth and sky,

'- 4: Try something else. Here 's a great wheel of
' ". .'. light,
.. -C- The moon -a bicycle almost as bright
A. As my sun-chariot. Get astride of this,
S And move your legs, and you '11 enjoy a bliss
SOf motion through the clouds almost as great
S As if you rode like me in royal state.
S No, my dear boy,-why, can't you under-
dare not trust you with my four-in-hand."
'. I dare not trust you with mny four-in-hand."




" I-have no taste for bicycles," the boy
Replied. That thing is but an idle toy.
My genius is for horses, and I long
To try my hand at yours. They're not so
But I can hold them. I know all their tricks.
Father, you swore it by the River Styx,-
You know you did,-and you are in a fix.
You can't retract. Besides, you need n't fear,
You '11 see I am a skillful charioteer.
I 've taken lessons of a man of worth,
A first-rate driver down there on the earth."
"I see," said Phcebus, "that I can't go back
Upon my promise. Well, then, clear the track !

So Phaeton leaped up and grasped the reins.
His anxious father took a deal of pains
To teach him how to hold them,-how to
The broad highway,-how dangerous and steep



II n


, ;]- ._t-_= .- ., .,.-

*. :-- ,- .

T ",Av.\ .tni ,-r I,., *t:* *i, ..'.i ll': |i...,, n ir H i r.i |:.,

And dodge the asteroids and cc,- r- !-.:1:
Follow the zodiac turnpike, stra!.i'r l-:-. d.
Though clouds and thunder-stormrr-: i:., .: r,-.und
him spread.

Alas! 't was all in vain. A litti.- lil. -
Two hours, perhaps-his' fort r.: _: ... -. to
smile ;
When a huge meteor, whizzing tl .:..,.- rh.. i:..
Alarmed the horses, who began i. -i,.
And shake their fiery manes; ti-, plur..:..-i
and reared,
And whirled him zigzag down' .... iii! thri;
The Earth. A conflagration spi.: ,:1 I.'l...
And every thing seemed burni: i.p il:.cI.
In the Sun's flames. Then Jul.t.-i I....j-Kd

'i ,-. "' -- .

Id ,r I- A \-.-'-r
,, .' .. "


,-- ,

-r l :' -j thi Earth like toast, all turning brown,
.-rd.l threw a blazing thunder-bolt (but wait-
H.!..i- i parenthesis I 'd like to state
Tli,: ,ilay have been a telegram; for then
SLh. ,ning dispatches were not known to men,
1 .:. ly used by heathen gods) which struck
[ I -h.- ..uth; and by the greatest piece of luck
Pr: .: r ted further loss.

This tale they told
In -1. .i.en times. .If I might be so bold
A- i:. suggest an explanation here
Ii'i ., phenomenon by no means clear,
i '.1: :, y those spots upon the Sun's red face
V\\.-r- bruises that he got in that mad race.







YOU may stay, Clumps," said Griselda, mag-
nificently. You'll make one more "
"Oh, do, Clumpy, do/" begged all the troop,
swarming around him with imploring hands.
"I don't b'leeve I want to," said Clumps, du-
biously, backing up against the kitchen door, and
giving them all two or three severe looks apiece.
" You '11 make me run, an' run, till I can't take
another step,-an' do all your errands. I guess
I'd druther go home." And he reached with
stern resolve upon tiptoe to undo the latch.
"Oh, no! I wont," cried Griselda, decidedly,
with an energetic little stamp of her foot, and a
shake of her head that sent the tuft of light hair
hanging over her forehead out like a small mop.
" You sha'n't go upstairs once, Clump Badger,
not a single once you sha'n't, if you '11 stay "
There, Grizzy said so shrieked all the rest,
each in a different key. "Now! She did she
said so which caused Clumps to stop fumbling
for the latch, and to bring himself down to his
original height of three feet four inches.
Not after the pink bonnet? -nor the pins ?-
nor the needle and threads?" he asked, turning
around to puff out resentfully a few of his well-
remembered grievances. "Nor-- nor- "
"No, no!" cried Grizzy, interrupting him.
"We '11 have every single thing ready. I'm going
to bring 'em all down beforehand, an' put 'em in
the wood-box."
"Then, I '11 stay! cried Clumps, wheeling
around suddenly, and beginning the gymnastic feat
of spinning around and around in the middle of
the old floor as fast as his little fat legs could carry
him, interspersing the performance with What '11
it be like, Grizzy ?" and the rest of the children
were soon accompanying him on his war-dance,
till the place resembled Bedlam.
For pity's sakes !" cried Grizzy, trying to
catch a flying jacket or a stray apron in its wild
career, do stop, or you '11 have the house down !
I told you before-a Re-cep tion "
"And if you don't know what that is," said
brother Tom, who, under the pretext of stopping
the others, had spun around with the wildest, and
privately encouraged what he publicly condemned,
"I 'm ashamed of you!" And not knowing in
the least what the proposed magnificence was to
be, he assumed a wonderfully deep look, and
wisely kept silent.
"We 're to have callers," said Grizzy, in a very

grand way, and bustling around with a sense of
importance. "Tom, do shut the door--it's all
secret, you know."
"So it is," said Tom. "That's right; it 's to
be a secret, children. Clumps, shut the door."
Clumps clattered off. and closed with a bang
the door into the back hall.
Don't tell till I get back!" he screamed.
" Oh, now, that's not fair he exclaimed, coming
back, with a very red face, for a seat.
"Why, we have n't said a single word," said
Well, you were going' to," began Clumps in-
dignantly. "There-- as he crowded in be-
tween a small girl with big, black eyes, who was
sitting on the extreme edge of a wooden bench,
and a boy of about the same size, on the other
end, so perfectly rapt in attention to Grizzy and
her wonderful plans that he was lost to all outside
occurrences,-" now, go on, Grizzy. I 'm ready "
"I 'm not !" screamed the small girl, sliding
from her end of the bench, and crying, Why, he
pushed me right off the bench "
I did n't roared Clumps. I only wanted
to sit down somewhere."
Do be quiet, children," cried Grizzy, in dis-
may. Dear me, Clumps! Please behave! "
The small girl looked resolute, and Clumps slid
off the bench and camped down on the floor.
Peace having been thus restored, Grizzy began:
"We are to have callers; at least, we '11 be all
ready if anybody does come. And somebody prob-
ably will "
"Suppose they should n't," said one of the
children in an awe-struck tone. "Then what
would we do,- say, Grizzy ? "
"Why, then," said Tom, before Grizzy had
time to reply, "why, we '11 turn about and make
calls on ourselves. Nothing easier."
Oh, good!" In an ecstasy, the children all
declared that they hoped no one would call.
It 's so much nicer to do the visiting' ourselves,"
they cried.
Well, then, we wont let anybody come ex-
claimed Mehitable, the black-eyed girl; and for-
getting herself in her anxiety, she jumped from
her seat,-into which Clumps immediately slipped
with a sigh of relief,- and went to the window.
"I '11 lock the back gate; then they can't get
in!" she announced, as a bright thought struck
her. "I 'm going now, Grizzy!" and she pro-



ceeded to put her inhospitable plan into ex-
Goodness cried Grizzy, rising suddenly, and
thereby upsetting two or three of the smaller
youngsters, who were clustered around her; "what
an idea Lock out anybody
who comes to call on New
Year's Day? Why, that is
n't 'receiving! '" And she
rushed up and grasped Me- ..,
hitable's arm. Go back. -
and sit down, Hetty, else you
can't be in at the reception." '-
Whereupon Hetty walked
back to her bench, much dis- -
comfited, and Clumps again
betook himself to the floor..
Grizzy once more resumed
her plans and descriptions., '
"We'llhave refreshments," t
said Grizzy; and-- .
"What kind?" said
Tim, smacking his lips; -*
while the others scream-
ed, "Why, real refresh- .
"Of course," said
Tom, .with a superior
air. You did n't sup-
pose we 'd have 'em in a chair, did you, Tim? "
What kind? demanded Mehitable, not pay-
ing the slightest attention to him. Oh, do tell,
Grizzy," she implored, slipping around to the big
rocking-chair in the greatest excitement.
Well,-lemonade, for one thing," said Grizzy,
coolly, watching to see the effect of her words..
Where'd you get your lemons, pray tell?"
cried Tom, in astonishment. I should have
thought you'd have told me, Grizzy."
"'T is n't exactly lemons," said Grizzy; "an' I
wanted to surprise you, Tom. But it's a lemon-
there's only been one squeeze taken out of it, for
mother to get the ink-stain out of Uncle Joe's shirt-
sleeve: an' now she's given it to us. An' she says
we may have some sugar, an' that takes away the
worst of my worries, for I was so afraid we could
n't get anything good for refreshments," added
Grizzy, in a relieved tone.
"When are we goin' to dress?" asked one ol
the other children. I'm goin' to wear the pinl
"No, I am," cried Clumps, in the greatest
alarm; and scrambling up from the floor, with on
eye on Mehitable, he uproariously pressed hi:
claims. "You know, Grizzy Lane, you said
might the very next time you dressed up an
played -- now / "

So I did," said Grizzy, reflecting. Well,
that was because you would n't just run over to
Miss Pilcher's to get the big fan she promised us.
You would n't go one single step without my
paying you "
There I told you so! cried Clumps, passing
by, with a high indifference to trifles, the reflec-
tion on his personal characteristics,- and he de-
lightedly cried, "I don't care what you give it to
me for. It's mine, anyway "
"Children," said Grizzy, turning to the rest,
"he must wear the pink bonnet this time, for I
did promise it to him."
"How you '11 look !" cried Tom, bursting out in
a loud laugh.
To be sure, the contrast was, to say the least,
rather striking between the envied pink bonnet
and the rest of Clumps's attire. A little dark yel-
low flannel blouse adorned the upper part of his
person, which was finished off by a well-worn pair
of little brown corduroys.
I don't care !" cried Clumps, looking down at
these, and in nowise dashed by the shouts of the
children. I can put a shawl or something' or
ruther over my back."
But you have n't got any shawl," cried Mehit-
"Well, Grizzy '11 give me one, wont you, Grizzy?"
he said, appealing to her.
"Oh, well," cried Grizzy, laughing, I can find
a shawl, I s'pose, if you will wear the bonnet."
I will wear the bonnet cried Clumps, in a
high pitch, and you '11 find me a shawl,-well,
then, I'm all right !"
SThe old pink bonnet had been hoarded and used
by the children in their charades, as the one gem
in their collection, ever since the time, long ago,
when it had been given to Griselda by a lady, for
that purpose. And its possession was always sought
for. On the appearance of any new play on the
boards, it immediately became the cause of con-
tention. Whoever came off its possessor was the
star, no matter if everything else was adverse. It
Swas no small trial then to Grizzy, who had fully
determined to receive in the admired pink bon-
Snet, to see it captured boldly by Clumps, to whom
Sshe had forgotten giving the rash promise. But
she stifled her sigh, and was just going upstairs to
get the armful of costumes and "properties,"
When the door of the kitchen opened, and her
mother came in.
t Children, I 'm so sorry "- she began.
S Oh, mother, you 're not going to take the
s kitchen from us !" cried Grizzy, starting up in
I alarm. "You said we might have it this whole
'afternoon !"
So I did- and so you may," said her mother,





smiling. And then her face fell again, and she 'em," adding, under her breath, though they
continued: "But I must take something else are dreadful!"
away that is much worse I want Tom And little Tim ran upstairs and got all the
Tom / cried all the children in chorus; while bright tippets of the children, which he wound in
Grizzy burst out, Oh, we want him to help and out over the dresser and the clock.
"You see I can't be spared, mother," began See, is n't it pretty ? he cried, with a faint color
Tom, greatly disappointed; "mother, you see in his cheek, as he viewed the effect.
for yourself." "Yes, 't is, dear," cried Grizzy, giving him a
"I know," said his mother, smiling at her kiss, it is pretty, Timmy."
big boy, but Uncle Joe's away, and there is no About half an hour later, it being so dark that the
one else to escort me over to Sister Carter's; two tallow candles had to be lighted, the receiv-
and she is sick, I've just heard." ers" appeared, stuck up in a stiff little row, in the
Tom nerved himself, though with a rather middle of the room, on all the chairs and wooden
dismal face, and then answered
cheerily, "I'11 go, mother; I'll
be there in a minute." -
"Thank you, Tom! I sha'n't --
forget this New Year's present -- -_ _.'
of yourself," said his mother, rI i' .' I,
"Now Grizzy, I may not be
home till six, so you 'd better
have your suppers. And you
can all have a nice time through -'
the afternoon. Come, Tom "
-And the door shut after them.
Grizzy looked at the doleful -_
little group around her and flew
off for the costumes, with which .
she presently returned; then she .ii -'
(''''' vi 1 I P' ~"
assigned parts, and issued direc- '' r' i --
tions, in a way sufficiently dis- -
tracting to drive out any other
About four o'clock the kitchen ,
presented quite a festive appear-..
ance. There had been several
attempts at decoration intended
to give it a charming effect. Me-
hitable contributed, from her '
treasures in the garret, an ap-
palling array of rooster and tur-
key feathers, which she stuck
up in every place that was reach- -2
able; viewing the result with no
small amount of pride, despite
the dismay on Grizzy's face. /
"It looks so queer !" she
cried, as Hetty, on a high chair,
stuck the last one in place.
"'T is n't queer !" cried the "'WE RE TO HAVE CALLERS,' SAID GRIZZY."
indignant decorator, with a very red face; "you stools the kitchen boasted. A raid had been con-
said yourself the other day that feathers were just templated on some of the parlor furniture, but that
the elegantest trimmin'-now had been speedily discountenanced by Grizzy, who
That was for a bonnet," said Grizzy impa- would have no liberties taken during her mother's
tiently, not stuck up all over a room. Well, its absence. A compromise, therefore, was effected
your company as much as mine, so you can leave in the shape of an old dining-room chair, taken to



complete the requisite number. On this sat Clumps,
radiant within the pink bonnet, perfectly regard-
less, under his old brown shawl, of the black looks



'- --


of Hetty, who sat opposite, trying her best to look
festive and happy in an inferior costume.
The rest of the company had followed their own
sweet wills so far as regarded the arranging of their
several bits of costume, which, to save time and
recrimination, Grizzy had decided must be drawn
by lot This, though slightly inconvenient as re-
garded harmonizing effects, was delightfully peace-
ful; so that, as they sat and waited for their chance
visitors, the little row presented, on the whole, a
smiling exterior.
"Is n't it most time for refreshments?" said
Clumps at last breaking the solemn silence which
was beginning to be a little oppressive, and peer-
ing out under his pink bonnet at the array of deli-
cacies on the table, "I'm afraid the lemonade
wont keep, Grizzy."
Be still said Grizzy, under a cap of red cam-
bric, finished off with a bow of black velvet, "it
is n't proper for us to eat till the company comes.
Wait for ten minutes longer ; then, if there don't
anybody come, some of us will have to go out,
an' be the visitors."
Thereupon a small uproar ensued as to who
should form the calling party, which it required all
Grizzy's powers of discipline to quell. This con-
sumed, however, a large portion of the long ten
minutes, so that by the time quiet was restored
the clock pointed to twelve minutes of five.

"When it's ten minutes to five," said Grizzy
with a sigh, beginning to realize that New Year's
receptions might not be everything that was enjoy-
able, we '11 begin !"
Every eye of the whole
row was riveted on the
\ clock. "Twel-ve, Elev-
A rap, soft and low, at
the back door, and then
'" l a rustle struck upon their
% -t' ears, and made every lit-
r, .J. tie figure skip from very
4"/ r '"'T is! 't is!" cried
i_ ^ 1the whole row, in joyful
tones. Oh, Grizzy-'tzs!"
I know it," said Gri-
I selda, trembling with ex-
S citement, but trying to be
elegant and composed.
It 's probably some of
the girls; they 've found
it out. Now all sit per-
Sfectly still. Come in!"
she cried, in a tone of
TY." command, drawing up
her figure to its utmost
height, and watching the door with sparkling eyes.
The door pushed open cautiously, as if some one
had not quite made up his mind to enter; and then
all was still. Grizzy, not knowing exactly whether
it was etiquette or not for her to repeat her invita-
tion, wisely said nothing, but sat, bolt upright,
with her company aspect on and her hands folded
stiffly in her lap. The other children were just
beginning to wriggle impatiently, when--open
flew the door as by magic and, before anybody
could think twice, a small object danced into the
middle of the room, then leaped upon the table
and, with a frightful leer on its expressive counte-
nance, made them all an elaborate bow.
Oh roared Clumps, forgetting his elegant
costume; and, tumbling over backward from his
high seat of honor, he rushed to Grizzy in sheer
fright, gasping, "What is it oh lo ?"
"Why, it 's a monkey!" cried Hetty, in the
greatest glee, and beginning to caper with delight.
Oh, Grizzy, a sweet, pretty monkey "
The monkey, seeing the attention he was re-
ceiving, made several ineffectual attempts to show
his feelings; but, finding them not adequate to the
occasion, gave it up as a bad job, scratched his
head and, wrinkling up his nose, looked around for
something to eat.
"You dear, be-yew-tiful monkey, you!" cried
Hetty, rushing up to him to embrace him.





Ya a snap!- chatter chatter / cried his
monkeyship, his eyes flashing ominously. Hetty
did not wait to extend further courtesies, but
hopped back a pace or two, where she stood glar-
ing at him !
You 're a hate-ful, me-an little "
Ya-a--snap /" The monkey's eyes now glit-
tered with rage, while he showed every tooth he
possessed, and made a movement towards a spring
at his entertainer.
Do be still! cried Grizzy, pulling her back;
".don't you see he 's cross; he might bite you,
Hetty. Do be still; he wants something to eat."
At this, Clumps, hearing the word "eat," set
up such a dismal wail that for a moment or two
nobody could hear anything else.
For pity's sake exclaimed Griselda, shaking
him, in the vain hope of extinguishing the scream,
but only cocking the pink bonnet over on one side
of his head; "what are you so scared at? Oh,
dear! I do wish you'd staid at home, I do! "
You said- oh, dear, dear -"cried Clumps,
wildly, and pointing one small, stubby finger, that
trembled like a grimy little leaf, in the visitor's
direction, though he did n't dare to look it in the
face, you said "
Said what ? cried Grizzy, with another small
shake, hoping to facilitate matters a little. "What
on earth did I say, Clumps ?"
That we 'd be-oh, dear, dear! he cried, his
breath giving entirely out.
"What? Griselda grasped both of his small
arms firmly, then looked squarely into the forlorn
face. "Now, Clumps Badger, tell me this minute !
What did I say ? "
"That he-that he," whimpered Clumps, catch-
ing frightfully; oh, dear that he-that he-"
Go on said Griselda, decidedly.
That he-"
Stop saying that he,' she exclaimed, im-
patiently. You 're the most foolish boy I ever
did see. Thathe -what?"
W-wanted," said Clumps, with a sniffle, and
.beginning to look around fearfully, "to -eat -
me -up Oh, dear, dear! boo-hoo-/oo! "
I did n't, you foolish boyl! cried Grizzy, let-
ting go her hold of his arms to give him a re-
assuring hug. I said he wanted something to
eat -and so he does. I 'm going to get him a
biscuit." And she.started briskly in the direction
of the big pantry.
You need n't," said little Tim, tragically; and
pointing to the guest mounted on the old table.
He 's got our 'freshments, and he 's swallowin'
'em all up "
He sha'n't cried Hetty, who, wholly occupied
with Clumps and his affairs, had neglected the

monkey for the last few seconds, and thereby knew
nothing of his latest move. "Ow, stop him, some-
body He's got the ca-ake-stop him !" And
with one wild dash-forgetful of her fear, forgetful
of Grizzy's warning, of everything but the loss of
the precious refreshments," which she now saw
disappearing at a rapid rate -she sprang forward
and grasped the long tail hanging over the edge
of the table !
Squeak, squeak /" With a howl of pain and
rage, as much worse than Clumps's wails of despair
as can be imagined, the monkey fixed his snap-
ping eyes on Hetty, cleared the table with one
bound, and sprang for her.
There cried Griselda in despair, hurrying
back from the pantry. "Now, you have done it!
Quick, Hetty, jump into the cupboard, or he '11
bite you! Quick !"
I don't want to! grumbled Hetty, scuffling
along, fighting every inch of the way. I 'm not
a-going to be shut up. I 'm not afraid of him /"
"Well, J am said Grizzy, pushing her along.
"There and she shut the door upon her, not
an instant too soon, for the monkey, enraged at
losing sight of her, came up with a thud of venge-
ance against the wall, just as the edge of her gown
"There," said Grizzy, edging off to a respect-
ful distance,-" You poor little fellow; do you
want something to eat? Well, you shall have it,"
she added, in the sweetest of tones, hoping to
propitiate the aggrieved visitor.
But if she expected to take that monkey away
from that door, she was sadly disappointed. Re-
venge was sweeter than dry biscuit, or even cake,
at this moment. And down he sat, watching the
crack with peering, inquisitive eyes; at every
movement of the imprisoned one, pricking up his
ears afresh to bide his time.
"Let me ou-ut! came in stifled accents from
within the closet. I 'm smuvvered in here. Oh,
let me out "
And then followed a banging of determined
little boot-heels against the door, that made the
monkey skip in delight and grin expectantly.
Just then there came a click of the back gate-
then heavy footsteps tramped up the path, and a
loud, imperative knock was thumped on the outside
Griselda started to run and open it, but had
only time to get half across the room when the
door opened, and a burly man, with a quick,
decisive air, stepped into the old kitchen.
The monkey took one look at him, then turned,
and, leaving revenge for mightier souls than his,
fled to the nearest shelter, which happened to be
behind the coal-scuttle.


"Any of you seen a monkey around here?"
asked the man, advancing further into the room,
and looking around.
The children thought they had !
O!/ cried Grizzy, is he yours ? "
"Yes, indeed! cried the man. "He's run
away from my store. I keep a bird and squirrel
store, an' all that, over in town. P'r'aps you
know me; my name 's Pilcher, Jedediah Pilcher."
He bowed impressively, as if the name was enough,
but, under the circumstances, he would add the
bow. ."And a pretty chase he's led me. Any
of you seen him ? "
He 's eaten up everything!" cried Clumps,
tumbling out from behind the old rocking-chair,
and waving his hands comprehensively to express


the destitute condition of all things. "Yes, he
has! Every single thing !"
"Sakes alive!" cried the man, falling back a
step or two at the apparition in the pink bonnet
and old shawl, that, to say the truth, did present a

very astonishing appearance. And then, glancing
around at the different specimens of dress that
met his gaze, much as if Bedlam had broken
loose around him: "I sh'd a-thought you'd a
scart the monkey "
"Let me ou-ut /" cried a voice from the closet.
And Hetty, more wild than ever for release,
now that she knew there was some other attrac-
tion in the kitchen that she could n't see, banged
away more furiously than before; at each bang
redoubling her vociferations.
"Sakes alive!" exclaimed the man, whirling
around to stare wildly at the closet. And then,
not being able to express his feelings, he took
refuge in Well, I never "
Which seemed to answer, however; for he im-
mediately started up to
business, and turned to
S--- -" Griselda with "Where
's that monkey ?"
I don't know," she
said, beginning a vio-

here, a minute ago,
when you "
"I 'll find him!"
cried Clumps, who, en-
Scouraged by the man's
appearance, was in an
anxious fever to help.
"'I '11 bring him; let
me--let me / "
"Let me ou-ut!"
cried Hetty, with a re-
newed bombardment of
the old closet door.
Clumps, with the one
thought of getting
ahead of Hetty in the
fun of the search, and with his mind full of just how
he would "'crow over her forever 'n' ever," came care-
lessly up to the coal-scuttle and bent clear over it.
There was something that shot up in the air, like
a flash, with a long trail after it. That was the
monkey. But there was also something else that
shot nearly as high, to fall down on the kitchen
floor with a miserable little thud of shocked sur-
prise. And that was Clumps !
The race was short-and sweet-to the mas-
ter. The monkey made a bow, perhaps not quite
so elaborate as his entering one, and the "Recep-
tion." was over.
"Well," said Hetty, when the knob was turned,
letting her breathe the air of freedom once more,
while her eyes sparkled with indignation and her
small frame shook with anger and disappointment,
"you 've been having the nicest time, while you



shut me up. You did it a-purpose, Grizzy, I know
you did I could hear you all running about and
talking like everything."
"He 'd have bitten you," cried Grizzy, who had
been surveying the refreshments." And now
that the excitement was over, finding herself very
tired, she felt decidedly cross and answered : "I
wish you had staid out, if you wanted to. I do!"
"An' we have n't had a nice time!" cried
Clumps, savagely; "none of us have n't, and he
kicked me clean over, an' I 've hurt my knee, an'
I wish I had n't come "
Well, here 's mother! cried Grizzy, in a sigh
of relief, "and Tom! "
So it was, and a few of the neighbors, whom
they met on the road, coming for a friendly call.
I should say," began Tom, flinging wide the
door! And then the whole story came out.
Where 's Clumps ?" asked Grizzy, about ten
minutes later, looking all around among the vis-
itors for the roly-poly figure; "where can he be ?"
Here I am," said a voice at last. It came from
under the big oak table, where, after investigation
by nearly all of the party, Clumps was discovered;
the treasured bonnet, slightly mashed on one side,
still on his head, with some suspicious looking

morsels of the feast clinging to his garments, and
a faint aroma of lemon-peel, over the whole!
You 've gone and drunk up all the lemonade! "
cried Hetty in extreme exasperation, reaching
down to bestow a pinch on his toes-" Oh -
oh / now we shan't have any! "
It got kicked over," said Clumps, placidly," an'
't was 'most all spilt, an' I only just finished what
was left of it, an' 't war n't good either, Grizzy "
It was perfectly elegant! cried Hetty, wildly,
to all of the company, "an' it was all we had!
An' we 've been so frightened, an' there is n't any-
thing to eat, either oh dear, dear! "
But the neighbors' handswere in their pockets, and
from those pockets, one and all, came enough "lem-
onade money "to provide for a dozen Receptions."
Tom, my boy," said a kind, jolly-faced man,
furtively wiping off the tears at the funny recol-
lection, "please run down to the store, about as
fast as you ever ran in your life, an' fetch up all
the fixings you want for-what do you call it-
the thing you were goin' to have?"
He turned to Grizzy, but before he had a chance
to answer, it came in one shout from all the little
people -"A Re- cep -tion A Re -cep tion !
Oh, Grizzy we are goin' to have it after all! "



f '


VOL. XI.-2o.

I *',
I r





DEACON FARNHAM was fond of chopping down
trees; but he had not brought a big sleigh into
the woods that morning, with two yoke of oxen,
merely to have them stand still in the snow while
he chopped. The fires he kept up at the farm-
house called for liberal supplies, and so Susie was to
have an opportunity of seeing a load of logs put on.
She and Pen had to get out of the sleigh to
begin with, and then her uncle and Vosh Steb-
bins removed all the side-stakes out of the sleigh
on the side toward the wood-pile, and they put
down, with one end of each on the sleigh and the
other end in the snow, a pair of long, strong pieces
of wood, that Vosh called skids." That made an
inclined plane, and it was nothing but good, hard
work to roll the logs up and into their places on
the sleigh. They made a tier all over the sleigh-
bottom, and then the lighter logs were piled on
them, in regular order, till the load was finished
off, on top, with a heap of bark and brushwood.
"Now, Pen," said Vosh, "if you and Susie will
climb up, we '11 set out for home with this load."
"Is n't your father coming, Pen?"
"No, Susie. There 's a man at the house to
help Vosh when we get there. Now we must climb."
There was fun in that, but Pen was up first.
In a minute or so more, Susie began to gain
new ideas about the management of oxen, and
how strong they were, and how wonderfully will-
ing. They seemed to know exactly what to do,
with a little help from Vosh and his long whip.
When all was ready, and they bowed their horns
and strained against their yokes with their power-
ful necks, it seemed as if they could have moved
anything in the world.
One long strain, a creaking sound, and then a
sudden giving away and starting, and the snow
began to crunch, crunch, beneath the wide, smooth
runners of the sleigh.
Vosh walked beside his team and drove it away
around in a semicircle, carefully avoiding trees and
stumps, until he and his load were once more in
the road and on their way home.

Corry and Porter had pushed on after Ponto as
best they could, but he had not stirred up for
them any game in the thick, gloomy forest.
No rabbits here ? inquired Porter.
Sometimes there are a few," said Corry, but

this is n't the place. But we 're almost at the
swamp, now. We'd better load up."
"The guns ? Are n't they loaded? "
"No. We never leave a charge in. Father
says a gun 's always safe when it 's empty."
Corry put the butt of his gun on the ground
while he spoke, and Porter watched him narrowly.
That's his powder-flask," he said to himself.
"I might have known that much. The powder
goes in first. Of course, it does."
He had never loaded a gun in all his life, and his
experience with the axe had made him feel a little
cautious. Still, he tried to make quick work of it,
and when Corry began to push down a wad of
paper after the powder, his city cousin did the
same thing. Only he was a little behindhand,
and he put in a much bigger wad of paper.
How he does ram it! So will I," he thought,
and so he did.
Corry remarked: Don't put too many shot
into the gun. I '11 measure them for you, so you '11
know next time. The shot scatter too much if you
overcharge it."
Porter was wondering, at that very moment, how
many shot he had better put in, or whether he
should try the big shot from one side of his shot-
pouch or the smaller shot from the other.
"'What are the big shot for?" he asked, when
he saw Corry choose the smaller size.
"Buckshot ? Oh, you can kill almost anything
with buckshot. Deer, or even bear."
Can you? I never used 'em. I thought they
were big for rabbits."
He was glad to know his gun was correctly
loaded, however, and he imitated Corry in putting
on the caps, for both barrels, as if he had served a
long apprenticeship at that very business.
Have n't we reached the swamp yet ?"
"No, but we are near it. It 's a great place for
rabbits, when you get there. Hullo Ponto 's
started one. Come on, Port."
They did not really need to stir a foot, for the
swift little animal the dog had disturbed from its
seat among the bushes was running its best straight
toward them. There he is," shouted Porter.
"Try him, Port."-" No, you try him."
Corry's gun was at his shoulder, and in another
second the bright flash leaped from the muzzle.
"Did you hit him? He did n't stop running.
He kept right on."
Missed him, I think. Too many trees, and it





was a pretty long shot," explained Corry, apolo-
"Why, it did n't seem far."
That 's because it was over the snow. It was
more than ten rods. Hark! Hear Ponto."
The old dog was barking as if for dear life, and
the boys ran as fast as the snow would let them.
They had not gone far before they could see
Ponto dancing around the foot of a huge tree.
If he has n't treed him exclaimed Corry.
Treed a rabbit? Why, can they climb ?"
"Climb? Rabbits climb? I guess not. But
that tree 's hollow. See that hole at the bottom?
The rabbit 's in there, sure."
"Can we get him, Corry ?"
"We '11 try, but it wont pay if it takes too long.
It 's only one rabbit."
Porter Hudson had a feeling that it would be
worth almost anything in the world to catch that
rabbit. He hardly knew how to go to work for it;
but he felt very warm, indeed, while his cousin
stooped down and reached with his arm further
and further into the hole in the tree. The hole
did not go down, but up, and it was quite large at
its outer opening.
Is it a hollow tree, Corry ? "
Guess not. Only a little way up."
Can you feel him?"
My arm.is n't long enough."
Ponto whimpered very much as if he understood
what his master was saying. That was probably
not the first runaway game which had disappointed
him by getting into a den of safety.
Here he comes! exclaimed Corry.
"Got him? Have you ? answered Port.
"There he is! "
Corry withdrew his arm, as he spoke, and held
up in triumph a very large, fat, white rabbit.
You did reach him, did n't you? Porter cried.
"No, I did n't. Some of my shot had hit him,
and he fell down the hole. Don't you see? They
did n't strike him in the proper place to tumble
him right over. He could run."
Poor fellow,," said Porter. He wont run any
more, now."
It was of small use for Port to pity that rabbit,
when the one thought he had in mind was that he
could not go home happy unless he could carry
with him another of the same sort and of his own
Corry loaded his gun again, and on they went;
but pretty soon he remarked:
We 're in the swamp now, Port."
"I don't see any swamp. It's all trees and
bushes and snow."
That is so; but there's ice under the snow, in
some places. You can't get through here at all

in the spring, and hardly in summer. It 's a great
place for rabbits."
Ponto was doubtless aware of this fact, for he
was dashing hither and thither very industriously.
There were plenty of little tracks on the snow,
as the boys could now plainly see ; but they crossed
one another in all directions, in a manner that
puzzled Porter Hudson exceedingly.
"How will Ponto find out which one of them
he 'd better follow up ? he asked.
Wait, Port, you '11 see," said his cousin.
Porter was taking his first lesson as a sportsman,
and was peering anxiously behind trees and in
among the nearest bushes. Suddenly, he saw
something, or thought he saw it, which made him
hold his breath and tremblingly lift his gun.
Can that be a real rabbit," he thought; sit-
ting there so still ?"
He did not utter a word, and the first Corry
knew about it was the sound of both barrels of his
cousin's gun, fired in quick succession.
Bang! -bang -they went.
What is it, Port? "
I 've shot him I 've shot him "
Porter was bounding away across the snow and
disappeared among some thick hazel bushes. A
moment more, and he was out again, with a rabbit in
his hand, quite as heavy as the one Corry had killed.
"First-rate, Port. Was he running ?"
"No, he was sitting still."
Corry was too polite to say that no regular
sportsman fired at a rabbit unless it was running.
It would have been a pity to have dampened
Porter's wild exultation over his first game.
Porter had no time to talk then, however, for he
had his gun to load, and he was in no small anx-
iety as to whether he should succeed in getting the
charge in rightly. Besides, there was Ponto, rac-
ing across the swamp, with a big rabbit just ahead
of him. That rabbit was a capital jumper, and it
was gaining on its barking pursuer, when they ran
by within range of Corry Farnham's gun.
Only one barrel was fired, but Ponto's master
was ahead again. Two to my one," said Porter.
You '11 have chances enough. Don't fire both
barrels every time, though, or you may lose some
of 'em; and you '11 fill your rabbits full of shot,
as you did that one."
Port's idea had been that both barrels of his gun
were there for the purpose of being fired off, but
he was quite ready to take a hint. He had more
and more serious doubts, however, about his ability
to hit a rabbit on the run. The first time he actually
tried to do it, he doubted more than ever. His
chance and his disappointment came to him soon
after Corry's gun was loaded and while they were
crossing the swamp.



I must have hit him," he said, as he lowered
his gun and looked after the rabbit, still clearing
the snow with long, vigorous jumps.
"Well, if you did," said Corry, "he has n't
found it out yet."
"Your first one did n't find out he was hit till
he got into the tree."
"That 's so. But I never knew it happen just
so before. Ponto's after another, now! He's
chased it around those sumac bushes. They 're
coming this way. Shoot ahead of the rabbit, if you
want to hit it."
Porter was positive, in his own mind, that he
could not hit the rabbit, and he felt himself blush-
ing as he raised his gun; but he tried to see his
game somewhere beyond the end of it, and then
he fired.
"I declare You 've done it! A good long
distance, too," shouted Corry.
SIt was so very long that the shot had scattered a
great deal, and one of the little leaden pellets had
strayed in the direction of the rabbit. Just one,
but it was as good as a dozen; for it had struck in
a vital spot, and Porter was as proud as if the skin
of his game had been filled with shot holes.
Almost two hours went by after that, and they
tramped all over the swamp. Porter killed another
sitting rabbit, but Corry was one ahead of him,
and was feeling half sorry for it, when he suddenly
stopped marching and lifted his hand, exclaiming:
"Hear Ponto Hark! Away yonder."
"Started another rabbit? inquired Port Hudson.
"No, he hasn't. It isn't any rabbit, this time."
"What is it? What is it?"
"Hear that jumping? Hear Ponto's yelp ? It' s
a deer! almost whispered Corry.
Deer? Did you say it was a deer? Can you
tell ? "
"Hark! Listen!"
Ponto was no deer-hound. He was somewhat
too heavily built for that kind of sport; but any
deer of good common sense would run away from
his company, all the same. The certainty that the
dog could not catch it would not interfere with the
deer's running.
Ponto's discovery was a fine buck, which soon
came bounding with long, easy leaps out from
among the forest trees into the more open ground
at the edge of the swamp. Porter thought he had
never before seen anything half so exciting, but
the buck went by like a flash.
Just half a minute later, Corry turned ruefully
to his cousin and asked him : "Port, what did you
and I fire both barrels of our guns for ?"
Why to hit the deer," answered his cousin.
"At that distance ? And with small shot, too ?
If they 'd reached him, they 'd hardly have stung

him. Why, there was n't the slightest chance of
our hurting him. Let's go home."
Porter was ready enough, and it was not long
before Ponto gave up following the buck and came
panting along at the heels of his master. He looked
a little crest-fallen, as if he would have liked very
much to remark: It 's of no use to drive deer
for boys. I did my duty. No dog of my size
and weight could have done more."
They had a tramp before them. Not that they
were so far from home, but it was a long, weary
wade through the snow, and Porter Hudson learned
a good deal about the weight of rabbits by the
time he laid his game down at the kitchen door of
the farm-house. They had been growing heavier
and heavier all the way, until he almost wished
he had not killed more than one.


SUSIE and Pen had a grand ride to the farm-
house, on the wood-sleigh.
Perched away up there on top of the brush-wood,
they could get the full effect of every swing and
lurch of the load under them. Vosh Stebbins had
to chuckle again and again, in spite of his resolute
politeness; for the girls would scream a little and
laugh a good deal when the sleigh sank suddenly
on one side in a snowy hollow, or slid too rapidly
after the oxen down a rather steep slope. It was
rather a cold ride, however, and when they reached
the house, Susie Hudson almost had to quarrel
with Aunt Judith to prevent being wrapped in a
blanket and shoved up, in a big rocking-chair, into
the very face of the sitting-room fire-place.
"Do let her alone, Judith," said Aunt Farnham.
"I don't believe she 's been frost-bitten."
I 'm not a bit cold now," asserted Susie.
"I 'm glad o' that," said Aunt Judith; "but are
n't you hungry? Pen, bring up some krullers."
Susie admitted that she could eat a kruller, and
Pen had no need to be told twice.
When Vosh came back from the woods with his
second load, it was dinner-time, and Deacon Farn-
ham came with him. Only a few minutes later
there was a great shouting at the kitchen door,
and there were the two boys. The whole family
rushed out to see what they had brought home,
and Susie thought she had never seen her brother
look quite so.tall.
"Corry beat you, did he?" said Vosh, as he
turned the rabbits over. Something in the tone
of that remark seemed to add: "Of course, he
did," and Port replied to it: "Well, he 's used to
it. I never fired a gun before, in all my life."
That was a frank confession, and a very good one
to make, for the Deacon exclaimed: "You never



did? Why, then, you 've done well! You '11 make
a marksman, one of these days."
Vosh," said Mrs. Farnham, tell your mother
to come over with you, after tea, and spend the
Thank you he replied. She '11 come. I
know she will. I '11 finish my chores early."
He swung his axe to his shoulder and marched
away, very straight, with a curious feeling that
some city people were looking at him.
The boys and the girls and the older people
were all remarkably ready for their dinner as soon
as it was on the table.
"Pen," said Susie, "I did n't know chopping
down trees would make me so hungry."
"Yes," said Deacon Farnham, it 's as bad as
killing deer. Port and Corry are suffering from
that. You did your chopping, as they did their
deer-killing, at a safe distance."
After dinner, it was a puzzle to every one where
the time went to, it fled away so fast.
Pen took Susie all over the house and showed
her everything in it, from the apples in the cellar
to the spinning-wheel that had been carried up-
stairs the day before and would have to come
down again to-morrow.
"Aunt Judith has a pile of wool, Susie. You
ought to see it. She 's going to spin enough yarn
to last her all next summer."
I '11 get her to teach me to spin."
Can you knit? asked Pen. "If you can't, I'11
teach you how. It 's easy, as soon as you know."
Then Susie, in her turn, told Pen about her
tidies and crochet-work and some other things, and
was getting a little the best of the dialogue, when
Pen asked, very doubtfully :
"Can you heel a stocking? It 's worse, a good
deal, than just to narrow them in at the toes.
Aunt Judith says there are n't many women, now-
adays, who can heel a stocking."
"I '11 ask her to show me how. Dear me, Pen,
do you know how late it is ? How the time does
fly to-day Where does it go ?"
Corry and Porter knew where a part of their
time had gone, after they came from the barns and
delivered to Mrs. Farnham and Aunt Judith the
eggs they had found. Corry brought out his checker-
board and laid it on the table in the sitting-room.
"It's a big one," said Porter. "Where are
your men? "
Hanging up there, in that bag. The wooden
men were lost. We take horse-chestnuts for black
men and walnuts for white ones."
S'pose you make a king ? "
"That's a butternut, if it's black. If it 's
white, you put on one of these bits of wood."
There was no danger of their getting out of

checker-men, but Corry Farnham had a lesson to
Porter Hudson knew a great deal more about
checkers than he did about tree chopping or
Game after game was played, and it seemed to
Corry as if his cousin hit some of them on a full
run." He got up from the last contest feeling a
very fair degree of respect for Port; and the latter
was quite restored to his own good opinion of
That was comforting, for all his morning's ex-
periences had been a little the other way, and he
was not half sure he could hit a running rabbit
again, if he should have a chance to try.
Susie and Pen had watched them for awhile, but
both boys had been very obstinate in not making
any of the good moves Pen pointed out to them.
There were "chores" to do, both before and
after tea, and Porter went out with Corry, deter-
mined to undertake his share of them.
Did you ever milk cows, Port ? "
"Well, no; but I think I could if I tried."
"Well, I guess you 'd best not try to-night, but
you can learn before you go home. Some of our
cows are skittish in cold weather."
Port was quite contented, after getting into the
cow-yard, to let the milking be done by some one
who knew how, and he had the satisfaction of see-
ing Corry himself kicked over into the snow- pail,
milk, and all -by a brindled heifer.
There were pigs and cattle and horses to feed,
and supper to be eaten, and when at last the boys
had finished their duties, the rest of the family
was already gathered in the sitting-room.
Mrs. Farnham and Aunt Judith had their knit-
ting,- and the Deacon had a newspaper in his lap,
with his spectacles lying in the middle of it. It
seemed, however, the most natural thing in the
world that they all should be sitting in a great
semicircle in front of the fire-place. The night
promised to be a cold one, and the fire had been
built for it in the most liberal manner.
Corry," said Porter, "what are all those flat-
irons and hammers for ? "
"Why, to crack nuts. I 'm going down cellar
to bring up some butternuts and hickory nuts."
"I '11 go with you, Corry."
"So will I," said Pen. "Come, Susie, and
we '11 bring up the apples and pears and some
Corry and Pen carried candles; but the light
only served to make the cellar look larger and
darker and more mysterious. It seemed as if it
had neither sides nor ends, but the heavy, black
beams overhead were not so wonderfully far away.
Pen showed Susie bin after bin of carefully selected




winter apples and pears; and there were half a
dozen barrels of cider, ranged against one side of
the cellar.
It 's all sweet enough now, but it will be hard
enough, some time. Then some of it will be
made into vinegar," she added.
"What's in the little barrel? Susie asked.
"Aunt Judith's currant wine. Whenever any-
body in the valley gets sick, she takes a bottle
of it and gives it to the sick person. It's her one
great medicine."
"Oh, oh exclaimed Susie, "just look at all
the mince-pies on the swing-shelf! Why, Pen-
elope Farnham !- how many are there ? "
There were more than a dozen, for the swing-
shelf ran the whole length of the cellar, straight
down the middle, and it held double rows of pies,
all ready to be carried up and warmed for use.
Susie would have been willing to stay longer to
inspect the treasures in that generous cellar, but
Corry suddenly exclaimed:
"Port, let 's hurry. They 've come. Don't you
hear Mrs. Stebbins? "
They could hear her now saying to Vosh:
"And, Lavaujer, you must mind one thing,-
you must n't talk too much-"; but, the next
moment, they reached the door.
Good Mrs. Farnham, while the young people
were downstairs had thoughtfully walked out into
the store-room adjoining the kitchen and returned
with a long-handled wire corn-popper and a bag of
what she called tucket-corn." It was corn with
small, round, blue-black kernels that can pop out
larger and whiter for their size than any other kind
that grows. There is a legend that the seed of it
came originally from the island of Nantucket; but
it has short, nubbing ears, and even the island
Indians must have found it a poor crop for any-
thing but "popping."
Mrs. Stebbins was inside the door now, for she
never dreamed of knocking and waiting out in
the cold until somebody should come to let her
in. She was hardly over the threshold before she
said, as she loosened her shawl:
"Judith, where are Susie and her brother and
Corry and Pen? They have n't gone away some-
where the very first night, have they?"
"They 're down in the cellar. They '11 be up
here in a minute. Now, Angeline, take off your
hood and sit down. Vosh, there 's a chair. Had
n't you better take that popper and set to work? "
"Vosh tells'me," began Mrs. Stebbins, "that
the boys got half a dozen rabbits to-day. I don't
care much for rabbits.: And they saw a deer, too.
I 'd ha' thought they might ha' shot it, if it was nigh
enough. But, then, a deer is n't anyways like as
easy to kill now as it was when I was young. And

they were only a couple of boys, besides. I do say,
now, here they come; and they 're making' racket
enough for twenty."
They were coming, indeed. Clambering up out
of the cellar with every pair of hands full, and
Mrs. Stebbins did not stop for an instant.
Susie, is that you ? Well, now, I must kiss
you, right away. Vosh said you were looking' real
pretty, and so you be; but he is n't always a good
judge. I knew your mother when she was n't no
older'n you be now. She was Josha-u-a Farnham's
sister. And so she 's gone South for her health
and your father's gone with her, and you've come
to put in the rest of your winter up here ? I do de-
clare, Lavaujer, if you are n't kerful you '11 burn
up every kernel of that corn. Don't stop to talk.
Jest tend to your corn-popper."
She had managed to get up from her chair and
kiss Susie without at all interrupting her discourse;
but she was a little out of breath for a moment and
sat still and watched them while they deposited
upon the table the tall, brown pitcher of cider, the
pans of fruit, and the maple sugar.
The young folk had a chance to say a word to
Vosh, and Corry and Porter each picked up a flat-
iron and a hammer. There were plenty of nuts
ready for them, and the sound of the cracking, and
of the rattling, bursting corn in the popper,
mingled oddly with Susie's efforts to answer the
rapid inquiries poured upon her by Mrs. Stebbins.
Now, Susie, I 'm glad you 've come. You're
right from the city, and you 're well-nigh grown
now, and you know all about the fashions. We
don't hear a word about 'em up hereaway till
they've all come and gone and something' else is in
fashion. Got to wearing' short dresses, hev they?
Think of me, or Judith, or your Aunt Sarah
Farnham, in short dresses! I do say! What
wont they put on next ? Last things they invented
were the little, skimp skirts, for hard times, that
came so nigh bein' the ruin of the dry-goods men.
Did n't take any cloth at all.-Lavaujer, you 're
a-talkin' again. You just 'tend to your pop-corn."
"Now, Angeline," said Mrs. Farnham, "do
take an apple or a pear."
"Yes, Angeline," said Aunt Judith, "and
here 's a plate of popped corn and some nuts.
Joshua, pour her out a mug of cider. Pen, go
to the cupboard and fetch a plate of krullers. It 's
a very cold night."
So it is," began Mrs. Stebbins, "but the win-
ters are n't what they used to be. No more the
butternuts are n't, somehow; but I must say you
make out to have good fruit, though how you do it
in these times beats me. Our trees die out."
Likely as not they did, but the attack had fairly
begun, and poor Mrs. Stebbins found herself out-


1884.] WINTER FUN. 303

numbered. The Deacon pressed her with the cider
and Mrs. Farnham with the krullers. There was
the heaped-up plate of snowy-white popped corn,
and beside it was the tempting little hill of cracked
hickory nuts and butternuts. Susie broke off for
her a noble piece of maple sugar, and Aunt Judith
herself took a candle and went down cellar for a
couple of the best mince-pies. It was too much for
even Mrs. Stebbins' conversational powers to resist.
"Oh, Vosh," suddenly exclaimed Susie, "Corry
told us, this morning, about the bear you killed,
last winter."
It was cruel to mention such a thing, just as
Mrs. Stebbins had commenced to eat a kruller,
and she began to say: "Yes, but once Lavaujer's
father-- but she had to pause a moment, and
Vosh took up the story with: "No, Susie, I did
n't kill him. All three of us did it. We were n't
twenty feet from him. Deacon Farnham fired first,
and then I, and then Corry; we all had double-
barreled guns, and we did n't one of us miss. But
it was a big bear--"
"I knew a bear-" began Mrs. Stebbins,
but Aunt Judith interrupted her with: "Now,
Angeline, do take a slice of mince-pie. It's cold,
but sometimes they're better cold than warm."
And the pie was too much for the memory of
the other bear.
The sound of popping corn and cracking, nuts
had been almost incessant, and the young people
had now succeeded in breaking all the ice the fire
had left in the snug sitting-room. They were old
acquaintances, all of them, and were chatting away
merrily among themselves.
Mrs. Farnham and Aunt Judith seemed to keep
steadily on with their knitting, whatever else they
might be doing. It seemed to do itself, very much
like their breathing. Even the Deacon man-
aged to look into the corners of his newspaper
while he pared an apple or talked to Mrs. Steb-
bins. The light of the great astral lamp on the
table mingled with that from the fire-place, in a
sort of reddish-golden glow, that flickered over the
walls and faces in a way to make everything and
everybody wear a warm, contented, cozy look that
was just the right thing for a frosty winter evening.
"Vosh," said Corry, suddenly, "Port can beat
you at checkers. You ought to have seen the way
he beat me to-day. Try him a game."
"Now, Lavaujer," said his mother, from beyond
the table, "you can play well enough for these
parts, but you can't think of comin' up to a city
fellow like Porter Hudson. He'll beat you, sure."
At all events, Vosh needed no more than that to
make him try a game; so Penelope brought out
the board and the home-made checkers."

It must be confessed that, after his triumphant
experience with Corry, Porter Hudson imagined
himself to have quite taken the measure of up-
country skill and science at that game. He sat
down to his new trial, therefore, with a proud as-
surance of a victory to come. It would have been
kind of Corry to have given his cousin the least
bit of a warning, but that young gentleman him-
self had been too roughly handled to feel very mer-
ciful. Besides, he had some very small and lin-
gering doubt as to the result, and was willing to
wait for it.
He need not have had any doubt, since there
was really no room for any. Vosh was a born
checker-player, and it is never easy to beat players
of that sort. Nobody ever knows exactly how they
do it, and they themselves can not tell. Their
spare men get to the king-row and their calcula-
tions come out right, and if you are Porter Hudson
and are playing against them, you get beaten very
badly and there 's no help for you.
Corry watched the game with a suppressed
chuckle, but it was a dreadful puzzle to Port.
Even Pen did not venture to suggest a single good
move, and the older people talked very quietly.
Mrs. Stebbins was a proud woman when Susie
exclaimed: "Vosh has won! "
It was of no use for Aunt Judith to say: Wont
you have another slice of pie, Angeline ? and some
more cider?" Mrs. Stebbins responded:
I don't care if I do. Only I'm afeard it 'll make
me dream and talk in my sleep. Lavaujer always
did play checkers in spry style, but he is n't the
player his father was when he was a young man.
He did n't have any time to play checkers after he
got to running' a farm of his own. Pie? Yes, Ju-
dith, you 've got just the right knack of making'
mince pies "; and while she went on to tell of the
various good and bad pies she had seen or tasted,
all the rest agreed with her about those they were
eating. In fact, the good things of all sorts went
far to reconcile even Porter Hudson to his defeat,
and Vosh was truly polite about that. In less
than two minutes he managed to get the other
boys and even the girls talking about hunting,
skating, coasting, sleigh-riding, and catching fish
through the ice.
The evening seemed to melt away, it went
so fast, and no one was willing to believe how
late it was when Mrs. Stebbins began to put on
her hood. They all saw her and Vosh to the
door, and did not close it until the gate shut
behind the last remark the good woman tried to
send back to them. It was something about
boiled cider in mince-pies, but they failed to hear
it all.

(To be continued.)








IN some ways the Chinese and Japanese gar-
deners are the most successful of any in the-world.
They can control and direct the .growth of plants
to a degree that seems really marvelous until the
principle upon which it is done is known, when, as
in many other matters, it becomes quite simple.
The Chinese have such a strong liking for the
grotesque, and unnatural, that the handiwork of
their gardeners is not as pleasing as that of the
Japanese gardeners. The Chinese understand the
dwarfing of trees; but their best work is in so
directing the growth of a tree or plant that it will
resemble some hideous animal which,is only fit to
exist in a nightmare.
The Japanese, on the contrary, are remarkable
for their love of what is beautiful and graceful, and,

consequently, ugly forms find no favor with them.
Every Japanese has a garden if it be possible; but,
as space is valuable in Japan, only the very rich
can have large grounds, and the family in moder-
ate circumstances must be content with a garden
often smaller in area than the floor of one of our
hall bedrooms in a narrow, city house.
Nevertheless, that small garden must contain as
many objects as the large garden, and, of course,
the only way of accomplishing the desired result is to
have everything in miniature. It is no uncommon
thing to see a whole landscape contained in a space
no greater, than. the top of your dining table.
There will be a mountain, a stream, a lake, rocky
grottoes, winding paths, bridges, lawns, fruit trees,
shrubs, and flowers; all so artistically laid out




as to resemble nat
swim wonderful, film
and not infrequently
will be seen movin
This seems wond
you think when I sa
scape is reproduced
two pages of ST. NI
you, can cover it!
added; delicate gr
grass, and glass co
should be. Counter
and a false crane ove
the real crane does
mountain, winding \
toes are in the litt
bearing fruit, or cov
in their proper place
These trees are o
the landscape, and
that one is tempted
more than one stran
or fruit between the
that the dwarfs do
fish and crane, mere
landscapes have be
c o u n i.' : r i: l .
Frar -.. ,-i::1 .* :-
the t l..: r -i -, ,im n.:
and ..i! -ii i ..! *. I .

ure, itself. In the lake will be convinced that the almost microscopic apples
ly-finned gold and silver fish, on the trees were genuine fiuit.
iy the tall form of a crane And now comes the question-how is the dwarf-
g majestically about the tiny ing done? The principle is simple. The gardener
merely thwarts nature. He knows that, to grow
erful enough; but what will properly, a tree requires sunlight, heat, moisture,
y that almost the same land- and nourishment from the soil. He takes measures
on so small a scale that the to let the tree have only just enough of these to
CHOLAS, as it lies open before enable it to keep alive.
In this case, a tiny house is To begin, he takes a little seedling or cutting,
een moss takes the place of about two inches high, and cuts off its main root.
vers the lake where the water He then puts the plant in a shallow dish, with the
feit fish swim in the glass lake, cut end of the root resting against a stone, to retard
Hrlooks the whole scene, just as its growth by preventing nourishment entering that
Sthe larger landscape. The way. Bits of clay the size of a bean are put in the
valks, bridges, and rocky grot- dish, and are so regulated in kind and quantity as
le landscape ; and real trees, to afford the least possible food for the little root-
ered with dainty blossoms, are lets which have been left on the poor little tree.
s. Water, heat, and light are furnished the struggling
f the right proportions to fit plant in just sufficient quantities to hold life in it
they are, consequently, so tiny without giving it enough to thrive on. In addition,
d to doubt their reality; and any ambitious attempt to thrive, ir spite of these
ger has slyly taken the leaves drawbacks, is checked by clipping with a sharp
fingers, in order to make sure knife or searing with a red-hot iron.
truly live, and are not, like the After from five to fifteen years of such treatment,
counterfeits. These miniature the only wonder is that the abused tree will consent
en successfully brought to this even to live, to

r -., i. ] -, l i. f .. I I .Y -l '' + --'+ ....

.11 2... .,

-"; '." -" \ ~" ~. .-

i~"' '" 4," +" -

w .'-

.. / .
'a .,
= -:0 ': --" ., 2 -":
..... Z / - -+'"= -". -- .

.,;. .





ONE night, when mercury was low
And winter wrapped the world in snow
And bridged the streams in wood and field
With ice as smooth as Roman shield,
Some skaters swept in graceful style
The glistening surface, file on file.
F or hours I. l i... ..: ..: i:.. r!... I .:. .
Com m ent- -. ,., I !-.: .r..,!.; I...:n .
O n this co._': i.. .-. ., r.. ,: .
O n that c,. *- .-. I .k ,! 'i.. 1:
Said one: i -.r iC,,- .. ., -.:.. -
W e have oI-. t'..,: i *-. ii t .I !"'... :!'i
N o m ortal ,..: :.:! L -.. ,..-: -.!.
If skates V. l. lur ri-.- .:n .- .:.I
Another i : c,.-,! a" [ri.- v Ir,._,.j .

Like oranges from Cuba's shore;
Behind the dusty counter stands
A native of the Holy Lands;
The place is filled with various things,

1-,,| I -" ''' r

7-- -' 1 I
*^@ '- ':'

PI V* ~

To hear my plan let all.attend.
I have a building in my mind
That we within an hour can find.
Three golden balls hang by the door,

From baby-carts to banjo-strings;
Here hangs a gun without a lock
Some pilgrim bore to Plymouth rock;
And there a pair of goggles lie,





That stared at Cromwell marching by;
While piles of club and rocker skates
Of every shape the buyer waits !
Though second-hand, I 'm sure they 'll do,
And serve our wants as well as new.
That place we 'll enter as we may,
To-morrow night, and bear away
A pair, the best that come to hand,
For every member of the band."

~ M- --: i I" *l.

'-'~~ 11 :"- :'<,

When evening next her visit paid
To fold the earth in robes of shade;
Then down beneath the golden balls,
As thick as bees when Flora calls
From apple bough or clover mead,
The Brownies gathered as agreed,
To venture boldly and procure
The skates that would their fun insure.
As rats and mice can make a breach
To goods we thought beyond their reach,
And visits pay to cake and cheese
'.V ..' t i1.. !h.-. f:'. please,
_- -. ... ii ** I ..hey:eed
c--~ I i, !they need.
"- I-, ,, .,' "l. i.r., -i,.cure,
--- ----' i ,- rl ,'~ t i'I, :, ,, ,-l, l~ ~t'r ,, po or,

rii2111 1 Hl l .-are
i! t.u I !I! A,1 : 'W l

At once, the enterprise so bold
Received support from young and old.
A place to muster near the town,
And meeting hour they noted down;
And then retiring for the night,
They soon were lost to sound and sight.

A panel gone, a broken pane,
A shingle loose they find like rain.
Or, failing these, with ease descend
Like Santa Claus and gain their end.
As children to the windows fly
At news of Jumbo passing by,


_^_= 2


So rushed the eager band away
To fields of ice without delay.
Though far too large at heel and toe,
The skates were somehow made to go.
But out behind and out before,
Like spurs, they stuck a span or more,
Alike afflicting foe and friend

In bringing journeys to an end.
They had their slips and sudden spreads,
Where heels flew higher than their heads,
As people do, however nice,
When venturing first upon the ice.
But soon they learned to curve and wheel
And cut fine scrolls with scoring steel,

To race in clusters to and fro,
To jump and turn and backward go,
Until a rest on bed so cool,
Was more the wonder than the rule.
But from the lake they all withdrew
Some hours before the night was through,
And hastened back with lively feet

Through narrow lane and silent street,
Until they reached the broker's door
With every skate that left the store.
And, ere the first faint gleam of day,
The skates were safely stowed away;
Of their brief absence not a trace
Was left within the dusty place.



A Tale of Adventure in Tierra del Fuego.


As if Captain Gancy's petition had been heard
by the All-merciful, and is about to have favorable
response, the next morning breaks clear and calm;
the fog all gone, and the sky blue, with a bright
sun shining in it-rarest of sights in the cloud-
lands of Tierra del Fuego. All are cheered by it;
and, with reviving hope, eat breakfast in better
spirits, a fervent grace preceding.
They do not linger over the repast, as the skip-
per and Seagriffare impatient to ascend to the sum-
mit of the isle, the latter in hopes of making out
some remembered land-mark. The place where
they have put in is on its west side, and the high
ground interposed hinders their view to the east-
ward, while all seen north and south is unknown
to the old carpenter.
They are about starting off, when Mrs. Gancy
says interrogatively:
Why should n't we go, too ? -meaning her-
self and Leoline, as the daughter is prettily
"Yes, Papa," urges the young girl; you '11
take us along, wont you ? "
With a glance up the hill,.to see whether the
climb be not too difficult, he answers:
"Certainly, dear; I've no objection. Indeed,
the exercise may do you both good, after being so
long shut up on board ship."
"It would do us all good," thinks Henry
Chester-for a certain reason wishing to be of the
party, that reason, as any one might see, being
Leoline. He does not speak his wish, however,
backwardness forbidding, but is well pleased at
hearing her brother, who is without bar of this
kind, cry out:
"Yes, Father. And the other pair of us,
Harry and myself. Neither of us have got our
land legs yet, as we found yesterday while fight-
ing the penguins. A little mountaineering will
help to put the steady into them."
Oh, very welt," assents the good-natured
skipper. "You may all come-except Cmsar.
He had better stay by the boat, and keep the
fire burning."
Jess so, massa Cap'n, an much obleeged to ye.
Dis chile perfur stayin'. Golly I doan' want to

tire mysef to deff, a-draggin' up dat ar pressypus.
' Sides, I hab got ter look out fo' de dinner, againstt
yer getting' back."
"The doctor "" speaks the truth, in saying he
does not wish to accompany them; being one of
the laziest mortals that ever sat by a fire. So,
without further parley, they set forth, leaving him
by the boat.
At first, they find the up-hill slope gentle and
easy; their path leading through hummocks of tall
tussac,-the tops of the leaves away above their
heads and the flower-scapes many feet higher.
Their chief difficulty is the spongy nature of the
soil, in which they sink at times ankle-deep. But
further up, it is drier and firmer; the lofty tussac
giving place to grass of humbler stature; in fact,
a sward so short that the ground appears as
though freshly mown. Here the climbers catch
sight of a number of moving creatures, which
they might easily mistake for quadrupeds. Hun-
dreds of them are running to and fro, like rabbits
in a warren, and quite as fast. Yet they are really
birds, of the same species which supplied so con-
siderable a part of their yesterday's dinner and
to-day's breakfast. The strangest thing of all is
that these Protean creatures, which seem fitted
only for an aquatic existence, should be so much
at home on land, so ably using their queer wings
as substitutes for legs that they can iun up or
down high and precipitous slopes with equal ease
and swiftness.
From the experience of yesterday, the climbers
might anticipate attack by the penguins. But that
experience has taught the birds' a lesson, too,
which they now profit by, scuttling off, frightened
at the sight of the murderous invaders, who have
made such havoc among them and their nestlings.
On the drier upland, still another curious bird is
encountered, singular in its mode of breeding and
other habits. A petrel it is, about the size of a
house pigeon, and of a slate-blue color. This
bird, instead of laying its eggs, like the penguin,
on the surface of the ground, deposits them,
like the sand-martin and burrowing owl, at the
bottom of a hole. Part of the ground over which
the climbers have to pass is honey-combed with
these holes, and they see the birds passing in and
out- Seagriff meanwhile imparting a curious item
of information about them. It is that the Fuegians

*The popular sea-name for a ship's cook.




tie strings to the legs of certain small birds and
force them into the petrels' nests; whereupon the
rightful owners, attacking and following the in-
truders as they are jerked out by the cunning
decoyers, are themselves captured.
Continuing upward, the slope is found to
be steeper, and more difficult than was expected.
What from below seemed a gentle acclivity
turns out to be almost a precipice,-a very com-
mon illusion with those unaccustomed to mount-
ain climbing. But they are not daunted-every
one of the men has stood on the main truck of
a tempest-tossed ship. What to. this were the
mere scaling of a cliff ? The ladies, too, have lit-
tle fear, and will not consent to stay below; but
insist on being taken to the very summit.
The last quarter proves the most difficult. The
only practicable path is up a sort of gorge, rough-
sided, but with the bottom smooth and slippery as
ice. It is grass-grown all over, but the grass is
beaten close to the surface, as if school-boys had
been "'coasting" down it. All except Seagriff
suppose it to be the work of the penguins-he
knows better what has done it. Not birds, but
beasts, or fish," as he would call them-the
amphibia in the chasing, killing, and skinning of
which he has spent many years of his life. Even
blind-folded, he could have told it was they, by
their peculiar odor.
"Them fur-seals hev been up hyar," he says.
"They kin climb like cats, spite o' thar lubberly
look, and they delight in baskin' on high.ground..
I've know'd 'em to go up a hill steeper an'
higher'n this. They've made it as smooth as ice,
and we'll, hev to hold on keerfully. I guess ye 'd
better all stay hyar till I give. it a trial."
"Qh, it's nothing, Chips," says young Gancy,
"we can easily swarm up."
He would willingly take the lead himself, but is
lending a hand to his mother; while, in like man-
ner, Henry Chester is intrusted with the care of
Leoline--a duty he. would be loth to transfer to
The old sealer makes no more delay; but, lean-
ing forward and clutching the grass, draws him-
self up the steep slope. In the same way, the Cap-
tain follows; then Ned, carefully assisting his
mother;. and lastly, but with no less alacrity, the
young Englishman, helping Leoline.
Seagriff, still vigorous-for he has not much
passed manhood's prime and unhampered,
reaches the head of the gorge long before the others.
But as soon as his eyes are above it, and he has a
view of the summit level, he sees there something

to astonish him: the whole surface, nearly an acre
in extent, is covered with fur-seals, lying close to-
gether like pigs in a sty This sight, under other
circumstances, he would have hailed with a shout
of joy ; but now it elicits from him a cry of appre-
hension; for the seals have taken the alarm, too,
and are coming on in a rush toward the ravine,
their only way to the water.
"Thunder an' airthquakes! he exclaims, in
highest pitch of voice. Look out thar, below "
They do look out, or rather up, and with no little
alarm. But the cause of it none can as yet tell.
But they see Seagriff spring to one side of the
gorge and catch hold of a rock to steady him-
self, while he shouts to them to do the same. Of
course, they obey; but they barely have time to
get out of the ravine's bed, before a stream, a tor-
rent, a very cataract of living forms comes pour-
ing down it-like monsters in appearance, all
open-mouthed and each mouth showing a double
row of glittering teeth. A weird, fear-inspiring
procession it is, as they go floundering past,
crowding one another, snapping, snorting, and
barking, like so many mastiffs Fortunately for
the spectators, the creatures are fur-seals, and not
the fierce sea-lions; for the fur-seal is inoffen-
sive, and shows fight only when forced to it.
These are but acting in obedience to the most
ordinary instinct, as they are seeking self-preser-
vation by retreat to the sea-their true home
and haven of safety.
The flurry lasts for but a brief while, ending as
abruptly as it began. When all the seals have
passed, our party-resumes the ascent and continue
it till all stand upon the summit. But not all in
silence; for turning his eyes north-eastward, and
seeing there a snow-covered mountain,-a grand
cone, towering thousands of feet above all the others,
- Seagriff plucks off his hat and, waving it around
his head, sends up a joyous huzza, and cries out:
Now I know whar we are better 'n a hul ship-
full o' kompasses an' kernometers kud tell us.
Yon's, Sarmiento!"


YIs, Capting, thet's Sarmiento, an' nary doubt
of it," pursues the old sealer." I 'd reck'noise thet
mountain 'mong a millyun. 'T air the highest in
all Feweego.* An' we must be at the mouth o'
Des'late Bay, jest as I wor suspectin'. Wal,
'ceptin' them ugly things I told ye 'bout, we kud n't
be in a better place."

The height of Sarmiento, according to Captain King, is 6800 feet, though others make it out higher- one estimate giving it 6967. It
is the most conspicuous, as well as the highest of Fuegian mountains,-a grand cone, always snow-covered for thousands of feet below the
summit, and sometimes to its base.




"Why ? inquires the captain, dubiously. thing ez '11 help us; our coorse is laid out to a p'int
"'Kase it aint a bay, at all; but the entrance o' the kompiss All we 'll hev to do is to run
to a soun' bearin' the name o' Whale Boat Soun'.' east'ard through the Beagle Channel, an' then 'long

.............. ................._' ... J. -I -


An thet's open water, too, communication' wi' the open coast to Good Success Bay, in the Straits
another known ez Darwin Soun''- the which last o' Le Maire. Thar we '11 be almost sure o' finding'
leads right inter the Beagle Channel." some o' the sealin' vessels, thet bein' one o' thar
"But what of all that, Chips? How can it rendeyvoos when they 're fishing' roun' Staten
help us?" Land."
"Help us Why, 't air the very i-dentical You think that better then than trying to the
"But b~PRP~~" ~ l~~~.-F: whto l ht his o a trneyoswe hyr si'ru'Sae
help s ?" and.


northward for the Straits of Magellan?" inquires
Captain Gancy.
"Oceans o' odds better. To reach Magellan
we 'd hev to work out seaward ag'in, an' back past
the 'Furies,' whar thar's all sorts o' cross-currents
to contend wi'. Goin' east'ard through the Beagle,
we '11 hev both wind and tide a'most allers in our
favor. 'Sides, there 'd be no bother 'bout the
coorse. 'T air jest like steering' in a river, an'
along the coast ag'in. I 'm wall acquaint' wi'
every inch o' 't."
That Captain Gancy, an experienced navigator,
should be unacquainted with the Beagle Channel
may seem strange. But at the time of which
we write, this remarkable passage was of recent
discovery, and not yet laid down on the charts.
"How about the other matter?" he asks, in
half whisper, glancing significantly toward his wife
and daughter, who are but a few paces off. "Will
the Beagle course be any the safer for that? "
I can't say 't will, sir," is the answer, in like
undertone. "Tho' it wont be any worse. Guess
the danger's 'bout equil eytherways."
"What danger?" questions young Gancy, who
has overheard the ugly word.
"0' the gig getting' bilged, Mister Ed'ard," is'
the ready, but not truthful, rejoinder. In coorse
thar 's rough seas everywhar through Fireland,
an' wi' such a mite o' a boat, we '11 hev to be on the
Then," says the Captain, his mind made up,
after long and minutely examining sea and coast
all around through his glass, then by the Beagle
Channel be it. And we may as well set out at
once. I can see nothing of the pinnace. If she 'd
weathered the gale and put in this way, they 'd be
sure to sail on for the main-land. In that case,
they may sight us when we get well out on the
open water."
"Jest so, Capting," says Seagriff, "an' as ye
perpose, we mout as well make the start now., We
kin gain nothing' by stayin' hyar."
"All right, then. Let us be off."
So saying, the skipper takes a last look
through the binocular, with a lingering hope that
something may still be seen of the consort boat;
then, disappointed, he leads the way down to the
Their further stay on the island is for but a few
minutes,-while the two youths make a fresh raid
on the penguinnery, and rob it of another dozen
of the young birds, as boat stores. Some tussac
asparagus is also added; and then all resume their
places on the thwarts, this time with everything
properly stowed and ship-shape.
Once more under way, they encounter a heavy
ground swell; but the breeze is in their favor and,

with the sail set, they are able to keep steadily
before it. They have no trouble in making their
course, as the sky is clear, and Sarmiento-an all-
sufficient guide-post-always visible. But although
neither Captain Gancy nor Seagriff has any anx-
iety as to the course, both seem anxious about
something, all the while scanning the water ahead;
the skipper through his glass, the old sealer with
hand shading his eyes.
This attracting the attention of young Gancy,
sharp at reading facial expression, as are most men
who follow the sea, he asks, after a time:
What is it, father ? You and Chips appear to
be troubled about something."
"Wal, Mister Ed'ard, thar aint ennythin' ru-
markabul in thet, sitiwated ez we air; it's only nat-
eral to be allers expecting' trouble o' some sort. You
youngsters don't think o' thet, ez we old uns do."
The old sealer has made haste to answer a ques-
tion not put to him. He fears that the skipper, in
his solicitude as husband and father, may break
down, and betray the secret that oppresses them.
Vain the attempt at concealing it longer; for
the very next instant the Captain himself exclaims:
Ha yonder A- boat full of people putting
off from the shore "
Mout it be the pinnace, Capting? "
"No, Chips; it 's some sort of native craft.
Look for yourself." And he hands him the
"Yer right, sir," says Seagriff, after a look
through the glass. "A Feweegin canoe it air, an'
I do believe they're Ailikoleeys / Ef so, we may
look out for squalls."
Both his words and tone tell of fear,- confessed
at last, since he knows it can no longer be con-
cealed. But the others are only surprised, for as
yet they are ignorant of any danger which may
arise from an interview with the natives, of whom
they know nothing.
Meanwhile, the canoe has pulled well out from the
shore-the northern one-and is evidently making
to meet the gig in mid-water, an encounter which
can not be avoided; the breeze being now light and
the boat having little way. Seeing it to be inevit-
able, the Captain says:
We may as well show a bold front, and speak
them, I suppose?"
"Yes," assents Seagriff, thet air the best way.
'Sides, thar 's no chance o' our getting' past 'em
out o' reach o' thar sling-stones. But I guess we
hev n't much to fear from thet lot, ef thar are n't
others to jine 'em; an' I don't see any others."
"Nor do I," indorses the Captain, sweeping the
shore line with his glass. It's the only craft I
can see anywhere."
"Wal, it aint on a warlike bender, whether




z88l] THE LAND OF FIRE. 313

Ailikoleep or no; seein'as thar's weemen an'childer enough for hailing; which, however, they have
in 't. So, I reck'n, thar's nothing' to be skeart about been doing all along, shouting in high-pitched
voices and frantically
The) cry: "Ho-say!
ho-say !" in quick rep-
etition, two of them
standing up and wav-
ing skins of some sort
above their heads.
S "Thet means to hold
palaver, an' hev a dick-
-- ,- -. er wi' 'em," says Sea-
griff. They want to
'' I P
S*l .. ,. trade off thar pelts an'
f-",,, .. .. sech like."
1, .., ';' "All right," assents
S" ,. .."' "' the Captain. Be it
I.. ,, -' so; and we may as well
S' -'douse the sail and lie
S, by; we 're making no

-~ wiAt this, the sail is
lowered away, and the
P .boat lies motionless on
Sthe water, awaiting the
Approach of the canoe.
iO..In a fewv seconds, the
native craft comes pad-
-- dling up, but for a time
keeps beyond grap-
_-.---_ piling distance,-a su-
-perfluous precaution
on the part of the Fue-
gians, but very agree-
Sable to those in the
_gig. Especially so,
-now that they have a
F- nearer view of their
visitors. There are, in
all, thirteen of them:
.-__ -three men, four wom-
S-- en, and the rest girls
-_- _and boys of different
.. ages; one of the wom-
.- -en having an infant
.tied to her by a scarf
-- :=- fastened over one of
--hershoulders. Nearly
a dozen dogs are in the
canoe also,-diminu-
tive, fox-like animals
bling the Esquimaux
jest yet, though you niver kin tell for sartin what breed, but smaller. Of the human element,-if
the critters air up to, till they show it themselves." human it can be called,--all are savages of the
By this, the Fuegians have approached near lowest type and wildest aspect, their coarse, shaggy
VOL. XI.-21.


hair hanging like loose thatch over low foreheads,
and partially shading their little, bleary, red eyes.
Hideous are they to very deformity. Nor is their
ugliness diminished, but rather heightened, by a
variety of pigments,-ochre, charcoal, and chalk,
-laid thick upon their faces and bodies with an
admixture of seal oil or blubber. The men are
scantily clothed, with only one kind of garment,
a piece of skin hung over their shoulders and
lashed across the chest; and all the women wear-
ing a sort of apron skirt of penguin skins.
The canoe is a rough, primitive structure: sev-
eral breadths of bark stitched together with sinews
of the seal and gathered up at the ends. Along
each side a pole is lashed joining the gunwale rail,
while several stout pieces laid crosswise serve as
beam timbers. In the bottom, amidships, is a
mud hearth on which burns a fire, with sticks set
up around it to dry. There are three compart-
ments in the craft, separated from one another by
the cross-pieces; in the forward one are various
weapons spears, clubs, and sling-stones and
fishing implements. The amidships section holds
the fire-hearth, the men having place on the for-
ward side of it; the women, who do the paddling,
are seated further aft; while in the stern division
are stowed the boys, girls, and dogs.
Such is the picture taken in by the gig's people,
and at a glance; for they have neither time nor
opportunity to examine it minutely, as the Fuegians
keep up a continual shouting and gesticulating;
their hoarse, guttural voices mingled with the bark-
ing of the dogs making a very pandemonium of
A sign from Seagriff, however, and a word or
two spoken in their own tongue, brings about a
lull and an understanding, and the traffic com-
mences. Sea-otter and fox skins are exchanged
for such useless trifles as chance to be in the gig's
lockers, the savage hucksters not proving exorbi-
tant in their demands. Two or three broken bot-
tles, a couple of empty sardine boxes, with some
buttons and scraps of colored cloth, buy up almost
all their stock-in-trade, leaving them not only satis-
fied, but under the belief that they have outwitted
the akifca-akineshz (white men).
Still, they continue to solicit further traffic, offer-
ing not only their implements of the chase and fish-
ing, but their weapons of war! The spears and
slings Seagriff eagerly purchases, giving in ex-
change several effects of more value than any yet
parted with, somewhat to. the surprise of Captain
Gancy. But confident that the old sealer has a

good and sufficient reason, the Captain says
nothing, and lets him have his way.
The Fuegian women are no less solicitous than
the men about the barter, and eagerly take a hand
in it. Unlike their sisters of civilization, they are
willing to part with articles of personal adornment;
even that most prized by them, the shell necklace.'
Aye, more, what may seem incredible, she with
the child-her own baby-has taken a fancy to
a red scarf of China-crape worn by Leoline, and
pointing first to it and then to the babe on her
shoulder, she plucks the little one from its lashings
and holds it up with a coaxing expression on her
countenance, like a cheap-jack tempting a simple-
ton at a fair to purchase a pinchbeck watch !
"Whatever does the woman want? asks Mrs.
Gancy, greatly puzzled; all the rest sharing her
wonder, save Seagriff, who answers, with a touch
of anxiety in his voice :
She wants to barter off her babby, ma'am, for
that 'ere scarf."
Oh! exclaims Leoline, shocked, "surely you
don't mean that, Mr. Chips."
Sure I do, Miss; neyther more nor less. Thet's
jest what the unnateral woman air up to. An'
she would n't be the first as hez done the same. I've
heerd afore uv a Feweegin woman bein' willing' to
sell her chile for a purty piece o' cloth like that."
The shocking incident brings the bargaining to
an end. Situated as they are, the gig's people have
no desire to burden themselves with Fuegian bric-a-
brac, and have consented to the traffic only for the
sake of keeping on good terms with the traffickers.
But it has become tiresome; and Captain Gancy,
eager to be off, orders oars out, the wind having
quite died away.
Out go the oars, and the boat is about moving
off, when the inhuman mother tosses her pickaninny
into the bottom of the canoe, and, reaching her
long, skinny arm over the gig's stern-sheets, makes
a snatch at the coveted scarf! She would have
clutched it, had not her hand been struck down,
on the instant, by the blade of an oar wielded by
Henry Chester.
The hag, foiled in her attempt, sets up a howl
of angry disappointment, her companions joining
in the chorus and sawing the air with threatening
arms. Impotent is their rage, however, for the crafty
Seagriff has secured all their missile weapons; and
under the impulse of four strong rowers, the gig
goes dancing on, soon leaving the clumsy Fuegian
craft far in its wake, with the savages shouting
and threatening vengeance.

*The shell most in vogue among Fuegian belles for neck adornment is a pearl oyster (Margarita violacea) r -.. :.:1 -.....t purplish
color, and about half an inch in diameter. It is found adhering to the kelp, and forms the chief food of several: ....I I .. among
others the steamer duck." Shells and shell-fish play a large part in Fuegian domestic (!) economy. A large kind of barnacle (Concho-
lefas Peruviana) furnishes their drinking cups; while an edible mollusc (Mactra edulis) and several species of limpet (Patella) help out
their often scanty larder.


T554.] TIlE L &ND OF FIRE. 315



WAL says the old sealer, with an air of re-
lief, when he sees that danger past, I guess we 've
gi'n 'em the slip. But what a close shave! Ef I
hed n't contrived to dicker 'em out o' the sling
fixin's, they mout 'a' broke some o' our skulls."
Ah that's why you bought them," rejoins the
skipper; I perceive now what you were up to," he
adds, "and a good bargain you made of it, Chips."
"But why should we have cared? asks Henry
Chester, his English blood aroused, and his temper
ruffled by the fright given Leoline. "What had
we to fear from such miserable wretches? Only
three men of them, and five of us "
"Aye, Mister Henry, that's all true as to the
numbers. But ef they war only one to our five,
they would n't regard the odds, a bit. They
're like wild animals, an' fight jest the same.
I 've seed a Feweegin, only a little mite uv a crit-
ter, make attack on a w'ale-boat's crew o' sealers,
an' gi'e several uv 'em ugly wounds. They don't
know sech a thing as fear, no more 'n a trapped
badger. Neyther do thar weemen, who fight jest
the same 's the men. Thar aint a squaw in that
canoe as cud n't stan' a tussle wi' the best o' us.
'Sides, ye forgit thet we have n't any weepens to
fight 'em with'ceptin' our knives." This was true;
neither gun, pistol, nor other offensive arm having
been saved from the sinking Calypso." An' our
knives," he continues, "they 'd 'a' been o'but lit-
tle use against their slings, wi' the which they kin
send a stone a good hundred yards.* Aye, Mis-
ter Henry, an' the spears, too. Ef we hed n't got
holt o' them, some uv 'em mout be stickin' in us
now. Ez ye may see, they 're the sort for dartin'."
The English youth, exulting in the strength and
vigor of growing manhood, is loath to believe all
this. He makes no response, however, having
eased his feelings, and being satisfied with the
display he has made of his gallantry by that well-
timed blow with the oar.
In any case," calmly interposes the skipper,
" we may be thankful for getting away from them."
Yis, Capting," says Seagriff, his face still
wearing an anxious expression, "ef we hev got
away from 'em, the which aint sartin yit. I 've
my fears we have n't seen the last o' that ugly lot."
While speaking, his eyes are fixed on the
canoe in an earnest, interrogating gaze, as though

he sees something to make him uneasy. Such a
thing he does see; and the next instant he de-
clares, in excited tones :
No Look at what they 're doin'! "
What? asks the Captain.
Sendin' up a signal smoke. Thet 's thar trick,
an' ne'er another."
Sure enough, a smoke is seen rising over the
canoe, quite different from that previously ob-
served-a white, curling cloud more like steam or
what might proceed from straw set on fire. But
they are not left long conjecturing about it, ere
their attention is called to another and similar
smoke on the land.
"Yonner!" exclaims Seagriff. "Thar 's the
answer. An' yonner, an' yonner he adds, point-
ing to other white puffs that shoot up along the
shore like the telegraphy of a chain of semaphores. f
"'T air looking' bad for us now," he says in un-
der-tone to the Captain, and still gazing anxiously
toward the shores. Thar 's Feweegins ahead on
both sides, and they 're sure to put out fur us.
Thet's Burnt Island on the port bow, and Cath'rine
to starboard, both 'habited by Ailikoleeps. The
open water beyant is Whale-boat Soun'; an' ef
we kin git through the narrer atween, we may
still hev a chance to show 'em our starn. Thar 's
a sough in the soun', that tells o' wind thar, an'
onct in it we '11 git the help o' the sail."
They 're putting out now," is the Captain's
rejoinder, as through his glass he sees canoe after
canoe part from the shore, one shooting out at
every point where there is a smoke.
When clear of the fringe of overhanging trees,
the canoes are visible to the others; fifteen or twenty
of them leaving the land on both sides, and all
making toward the middle of the strait, where it
is narrowest, evidently with the design of heading
off the boat.
Keep her well to starboard, Capting! sings
out the old sealer, near as may be to the p'int o'
Cath'rine Island. Ef we kin git past thet 'fore
they close on us, we '11 be safe."
But had n't we better put about and put back ?
We can run clear of them that way."
Cl'ar o' the canoes ahead, yis But not o'
the others astarn. Look yonner! Thar 's more o'
em putting' out ahint- the things air everywhar "
'T will be safer to run on, then, you think ? "
I do, sir. B'sides, thar 's no help for 't now.
It 's our only chance, an' it aint sech a bad un,
eyther. I guess we kin do it yit."

Seagriff does not exaggerate. Their skill with this weapon is something remarkable. Captain King thus speaks of it: "I have seen
them strike a cap, placed upon the stump of a tree fifty or sixty yards off, with a stone from a sling." And again, speaking of an
encounter he had with Fuegians: "It is astonishing how very correctly they throw them, and to what a distance. When the first stone
fell close to us, we all thought ourselves out of musket shot! "
t A kind of telegraph or apparatus for conveying information by means of signals visible at a distance, and as oscillating arms or flags by
daylight and lanterns at night. A simple form is still employed.



3 5


Lay out to your oars, then, my lads," cries the
skipper, steering as he has been advised. Pull
your best, all "
A superfluous command that, for already they
are straining every nerve, all awake to the danger
drawing nigh. Never in their lives were they in
greater peril, never threatened by a fate more fear-
ful than that impending now. For, as the canoes
come nearer, it can be seen that there are only
men in them; men of fierce aspect, every one of
them armed !
Nary woman nor chile !" mutters Seagriff, as

stroke, a retarding whiff of wind, may bring death
to those in the gig, or capture, which is the
same. Yet they see life beyond, if they can but
reach it,-life in a breeze, the "sough" on the
water, of which Seagriff spoke. It is scarce two
cables' length ahead. Oh, that it were but one !
Still they have hope, as the old sealer shouts en-
"We may git into it yet. Pull, boys; pull wi'
might an' main "
His words spur them to a fresh effort, and the
boat bounds on, the oars almost lifting her out

. '. ,

'o~ .:i,,:-',,...-_ .. .: .
," , :. '_:.' .t '
L ";': .
-.7_- g;

-I'.'*.,r'- ..l. .... .

....B WE .- 5 -- ST NE .....T

though talking to himself. Thet means war,
an' the white feathers stickin' up out o' thar
skulls, wi' thar faces chalked like circus clowns !
War to the knife, for sartin "
Still other, if not surer, evidences of hostility are
the spears bristling above their heads, and the slings
in their hands, into which they are seen slipping
stones to be ready for casting. Their cries, too,
shrilling over the water, are like the screams of ra-
pacious birds about to pounce on prey which they
know can not escape them.
And now the canoes are approaching mid-chan-
nel, closing in from either side like a V, and the
boat must pass between them. Soon it has some
of them abeam, with others on the bows. It is
running the gauntlet, with apparently a very poor
chance of running it safely. The failure of an oar-

of the water. The canoes abeam begin to fall
astern, but those on the bows are forging danger-
ously near; while the savages in them, now on
their feet, brandish spears and wind their slings
above their heads. Their fiendish cries and furi-
ous gestures, with their ghastly chalked faces, give
them an appearance more demoniac than human.
A stone is slung and a javelin cast, though both
fall short. But will the next? They will soon be
at nearer range, and the gig's people, absolutely
without means of protection, sit in fear and trem-
bling. Still the rowers, bracing hearts and arms,
pull manfully on. But Captain Gancy is appalled
as another stone plashes in the water close to the
boat's side, while a third, striking the mast, drops
down upon a thwart.
"Merciful Heaven he exclaims appealingly,

3 16





as he extends a sheltering arm over the heads of
his dear ones. Is it thus to end? Are we to be
stoned to death ?"
"Yonner 's a Heaven's marcy, I do believe!"
says Seagriff on the instant, coming' to our help
'roun' Burnt Island. Thet '11 bring a change,
sure! "
All turn their eyes in the direction indicated,
wondering what he means, and they see the water,
lately calm, now in violent agitation, with showers
of spray dashing up to the height of a ship's mast.
It 's a williwaw adds the old sealer, in joy-
ous tone; though at any other time, in open boat,
or even decked ship, it would have sent a thrill
of fear through his heart. Now he hails it with
hope, for he knows that the williwaw* causes a Fue-
gian the most intense fear, and oft engulfs his
crazy craft, with himself and all his belongings.
And, at sight of the one now sweeping toward
them, the savages instantly drop sling and spear,
cease shouting, and cower down in their canoes in
dread silence.
"Now 's our chance, boys sings out Seagriff.
"Wi' a dozen more strokes we '11 be cl'ar o' them,-
out o' the track o' the williwaw, too."
The dozen strokes are given with a will. Two
dozen ere the squall reaches them, and when it
comes up, it has spent most of its strength, passing
alike harmlessly over boat and canoes.
But, again, the other danger threatens. The
Fuegians are once more upon their feet, shaking
their spears and yelling more furiously than ever;
anger now added to their hostility. Yet louder
and more vengefully they shout at finding pursuit
is vain, as they soon do ; for the diversion caused
by the williwaw has given the gig an advantage,
throwing all the canoes so far astern that there is no
likelihood of its being caught. Even with the oars
alone, it could easily keep the distance gained on
the slowly paddled craft. It does better, however,
having found the breeze; and, with a swollen sail,
it glides on down Whale-boat Sound, rapidly in-
creasing its advantage. On, still on, till under the
gathering shadows of night the flotilla of canoes
appears like tiny specks-like a flock of foul birds
at rest on the distant water.
Thar 's no fear o' them coming' arter us any
furrer, I reck'n," says the old sealer, in a glad voice.
"And we may thank the Almighty for it," is
Captain Gancy's grateful rejoinder. "Surely never
was His hand more visibly extended for the pro-
tection of poor mortals Let us thank Him, all! "

And the devout skipper uplifts his hands in
prayer, the rest reverently listening. After the
simple thanksgiving, he fervently kisses, first his
wife, then Leoline. Kisses of mutual congratula-
tion, and who can wonder at their being fervent ?
For they all have been very near to their last em-
brace on earth !



THE night is down; but, although it is very
dark, the boat-voyagers do not bring in to land.
They are still far from confident that the pursuit
has been relinquished ; and, until it is abandoned,
they are still in danger.
Ere long, they have sure evidence that it is not
abandoned; when all along the shores of the sound
flash up fires, which, like the smoke seen in the day-
light, are surely signals. Some are down upon the
beaches, others high up against the hill-sides,-
just such lights as Magalhaens beheld three and
a half centuries before, while passing through the
strait which now bears his name.f Hence, too,
the name he bestowed on the unknown country
lying south of them, "Tierra del Fuego "-"Land
of Fire."
The fugitives in the gig see fires on both shores,
fifty or more,-the lurid flames symbolizing the
fierce, implacable hostility of the savage men who
have set them alight.
"We 're boun' to keep on till we 've got 'em all
astarn," counsels Seagriff. "So long 's thar's a
spark ahead, it 'll be dangersome to put in. They'd
be for headin' us off jest the same to-morrer, ez
thar's another long narrer to pass atween this an'
Darwin Soun'. 'T air a bit lucky the night bein'
so dark that they can't sight us from the shore. If
they could, we 'd 'a' had 'em out arter us now."
Under ordinary circumstances, the darkness
would make it impossible for them to proceed.
But, oddly enough, the very thing which forces them
to continue their retreat assists them in making it
good; the fires on either side being like so many
beacon lights, enabling them to hold a course in
mid-water. Thus guided, they run on as between two
rows of street lamps, fortunately so far from them
that they do not render visible the spread sail. For-
tunately, also, on reaching the next narrow, where
it would otherwise be seen, there is a mist over the
water. Screened by this, they succeed in passing

The williwaw," sometimes called the woolcy," is one of the great terrors of Fuegian inland waters. It is a sort of squall with a
downward direction, probably caused by the warmer air of the outside ocean, as it passes over the snowy mountains, becoming suddenly
cooled, and so dropping with a violent rush upon the surface of the water, which surges under it as if struck by cannon-shot.
t He discovered the Straits, or, more properly. Strait, in I519. His name is usually given as "Magellan" by French and English
writers; the Spaniards making it "Magallanes." But, as he was a native of Portugal, and I7 ....11... ; the Portuguese orthography,
it should be the one preferred. By sealers and others, Tierra del Fuego is often called i .- J i dy Brassey heard it so called
by the settlers at Sandy Point," in the Strait.


through it unperceived, and enter Darwin Sound
just as day is breaking. Here neither fires nor
smokes are observed-some warrant for their be-
lieving that they have passed out of the territory
of the tribe which has attacked them.
For all, they do not yet seek the shore; the
wind is too temptingly in their favor, and they
run on into the north-west arm of the Beagle
Channel, at length bringing to in a small cove on
its southern side.
It is late afternoon when they make a landing;
yet they have time to choose a camping-place ere
the night sets in. Not much choice is there, the
only available spot being at the inner end of the
cove. There a niche in the rocky beach forms a
sort of natural boat-dock, large enough to admit
the gig to moorings. And on the shore adjacent
is the only patch of bare ground visible; at all
other points the trees grow to the water's edge,
with overhanging branches.
Confident now that their late pursuers have been
shaken off, they determine on making a stay here
of at least a day or two. After the long spell of
laborious work, with the excitement which accom-
panied it, they greatly need rest. Besides, all are
now very hungry, having had no opportunity of
cooking aught since they left the landing place on
the isle.
Where they are now, there is no difficulty about
fire, fuel being plentiful all about. And while Caesar
is preparing the repast, the others transform the
boat-sail into a tent, by setting up the oars, trestle-
fashion, and resting the mast on them as a ridge-
Having satisfied the cravings of appetite, and
completed their arrangements for passing the
night, they sit by the fire and contemplate a land-
scape which hitherto they have but glanced at. A
remarkable landscape it is; picturesque beyond
description, and altogether unlike the idea gen-
erally entertained of Fuegian scenery. That por-
tion of it which an artist would term the "fore-
ground is the cove itself, which is somewhat like
the shoe of a mule,-running about a hundred
yards into the land, while less than fifty feet across
the mouth. Its shores,rising abruptly from the beach,
are wooded all around with a thick forest, which
covers the steep sides of the encircling hills as far
as can be seen. The trees, tall and grand, are of
three kinds, almost peculiar to Tierra del Fuego.
One is a true beech; another, as much birch as

beech; the third, an aromatic evergreen of world-
wide celebrity, the Winter's-bark."* But there
is also a growth of buried underwood, consisting of
arbutus, barberry, fuchsias, flowering currants, and
a singular fern, also occurring in the island of Juan
Fernandez and resembling the zamia of Australia.
The sea-arm on which the cove opens is but
little over a mile in width; its opposite shore
being a sheer cliff, rising hundreds of feet above
the water, and indented here and there by deep
gorges with thickly wooded sides. Above the cliff's
crest the slope continues on upward to a mountain
ridge of many peaks, one of them a grand cone
towering thousands of feet above all the others.
That is Mount Darwin, wrapped in a mantle
of never-melting snow. Along the intermediate
space between the cliff's crest and the snow-line
is a belt of woodland, intersected by what might
be taken for streams of water, were it not for their
color. But they are too blue, too noiseless, to be
water. Yet, in a way, they are water, for they are
glaciers; some of them abutting upon the sea-arm,
and filling up the gorges that open upon it, with
facades as precipitous as that of the cliff itself.
There are streams of water also which proceed
from the melting of the snow above ; cataracts that
spout out from the wooded sides of the ravines,
their glistening sheen vividly conspicuous amid the
greenery of the trees. Two of these curving jets,
projected from walls of verdure on opposite sides
of a gorge, meet midway, and mingling, fall thence
perpendicularly down; changing, long ere they
reach the water below, to a column of white spray.
Such is the magnificent panorama spread before
the eyes of our castaways, who, despite their for-
lorn lot, can not help regarding it with admiration.
Nor is their wonder diminished by what they see
and hear close at hand. Little expected they to
find parrots and humming-birds in that high lati-
tude; yet a flock of the former chatter above their
heads, feeding on the berries of the winter's-bark;
while numbers of the latter are seen, flitting to and
fro or poised on whirring wings before the bell-
shaped blossoms of the fuchsias. f From the deeper
recesses of the wood, at intervals comes a loud,
cackling cry, resembling the laugh of an idiot. It
is the call-note of the black woodpecker. And as
if in response to it, a kingfisher, perched on the
limb of a dead tree by the beach, now and then
utters its shrill, ear-piercing scream.
Other fishing-birds of different species fly hither

*The beeches are the Fagus Bethloides and F. Antarchia. The former partakes also of the character of a birch. If is an evergreen,
while the leaves of the other fall off in the autumn. The Winter's-bark (Drimys Winteri) is a laurel-like evergreen, which produces
an aromatic bark, somewhat resembling cinnamon. It derives its name, not from the season, but from a Captain Winter, who first carried
the bark to England in 1579.
t The Fuegian parrot, or paroquet, is known to naturalists as Psittacus Imaragdinis,- the humming-bird, as Melisug .--. T was
long believed that neither parrots nor humming-birds existed in Tierra del Fuego,- Buffon, with his usual incorrectness, II. ... [ I. the
specimens brought from it were taken elsewhere. Other learned closet-naturalists insisted on the parrots, reported to exist there, being
"sea-parrots" (auks).




and thither over the water, now quite tranquil, the
wind having died away. A flock of white pelicans,
in pursuit of finny prey, swim about the cove, their
eyes looking into the depths, their long, pick-ax
beaks held ready for a plunge. Then, as a fish is
sighted underneath, down goes head and neck in a
quick dart, soon to be drawn up with the victim
writhing between the tips of the mandibles. But
the prey is not secured yet; as on each pelican
attends a number of predatory gulls, wheeling
over it, and watching its every movement with
a well-studied interest. As soon as the fish is
brought up, they swoop at it from all points with
wild screams and flapping wings; and as the
pelican can not swallow the fish without first toss-
ing it upward, the toss proves fatal to its purpose.
The prey let go, instead of falling back into the

water, or down the pouch-like gullet held agape
for it, is caught by one or more of the gulls, and
those greedy birds continue the fight among them-
selves, leaving the pelican they have robbed to go
diving again.
Night comes on, but not with the darkness an-
ticipated. For still another wonder is revealed to
them ere closing their eyes in sleep--the long
continuance of twilight, far beyond anything of
the kind they have ever experienced. But its cause
is known to them; the strange phenomenon being
due to the fact that the sun, for some time after
it has sunk below the horizon, continues to shine
on the glistening ice of the glaciers and the snow
of the mountain summits, thus producing a weird
reflection in the heavens, somewhat resembling
the Aurora Borealis!

(To be continued.)

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HAVE you ever seen a wood-engraver at work?
No ? Well, then, you probably have at some time
taken a ring, or a watch, or a dime for a bangle,
to an engraver, to have your name or initials cut
upon it. And if you have stood and watched the
work done, you have noticed that the engraver
used a magnifying glass, a pad made of leather
(and filled with sand), and perhaps a half dozen
small steel tools with queer little wooden or cork
handles. And when he put the monogram upon
the ring or bangle which you handed him, he went
to work in this way: He first raised the magnify-
ing glass to his eye, and, by a curious trick "screw-
ing up the muscles round about it, held it in place
there; then he took the thing to be engraved in his
left hand, laid it on the pad (called a sand-bag),
and, with one of the queer little tools in his right
hand, cut the letters into the metal.
Now the engraver who makes a steel plate for
printing works in the same manner,-in fact, your
name upon the bangle would print were you to take
some very thick printing ink, rub it well into the
engraved lines (carefully wiping off the surround-
ing parts with the ball of the hand, however, so as
to leave the ink in the lines only, and the rest of
the surface clean), lay a piece of paper on it, and
take an impression by rubbing, or with your ama-
teur printing press.
Of course, you know that such pictures as you
see in books or in ST. NICHOLAS have to be en-
graved upon some surface from which an impres-
sion can be taken before they can be printed in
the book or the magazine. And you probably
know that the two principal kinds of engravings
are steel-engravings and wood-engravings.
These two kinds of engravings, however, are
produced by directly opposite methods. In one,
the lines that are to ink the paper are cut into the
surface of the plate, so that they will hold the ink
like grooves, and the rest of the surface will be
perfectly smooth and clean. (This is the process
followed in steel-engraving.) In the other mode,
which is followed in wood-engraving, the lines that
are to ink the paper are left standing, while the
parts between are cut away from the surface of the
block, so that if an ink roller should be passed
over an engraving of this kind it would leave all
the lines tipped with a coating of ink, while the
grooves and spaces between the lines would have no
ink; or if they had, would not touch the paper, as
they are really little hollows between the lines.

This process corresponds, in printing, with print-
ing from type, the lines of the engraving corres-
ponding to the surface of the types (which takes
the ink), and the hollowed-out lines, or the grooves
between the lines, corresponding to the spaces
between the types.
As the lines in a good wood-engraving have to
be very thin, you will see at once how necessary it
is for the wood itself to be of a firm and strong
fiber that will not break, or split, or "crumble"
easily. And, indeed, the wood used for engraving
is one of the hardest known. It is box-wood, and
is obtained almost exclusively from Turkey and
Asia Minor. The grain of box-wood is exceed-
ingly close and smooth, and engravers' "blocks"
consist of slices each about an inch thick and usu-
ally from two to four inches square, cut across the
grain of the tree. The box-tree does not grow to
any considerable size, and when a large block is
desired it has to be made by screwing and glueing
a number of small blocks together very tightly
and securely. It is said that it would take more
than one hundred years for a box-tree to grow
large enough to furnish a block in one piece of a
size sufficient to include the whole of the engrav-
ing, "A Midwinter Night," which forms the frontis-
piece of this month's ST. NICHOLAS. That picture
is in reality engraved upon nine blocks of box-
wood, closely joined together.
You will understand from the account of the
manner in which wood-engravings are made that
the wood-engraver has to make two lines with his
graver to form one which will print. With your
bangle, you rubbed the stiff ink into the lines, and
the pressure of rubbing upon the paper lifted the
ink out of the lines and left it on the paper; but
the wood-block will not have ink rubbed into it,
but just a roller covered with ink passed over it,
leaving ink on the surface of the block, to be
picked up by the sheet of paper which comes in con-
tact with it. So, as I have said, the wood-engraver
must sink two lines in the block to make one line
which will print. Of course, considering the hard-
ness of the wood and the delicacy required for the
lines, this is very slow and tedious work. You
may easily form some idea of how tedious it is
by placing a penny over any portion of an engraved
picture,-such as that of Monkstown Castle, in the
December number of ST. NICHOLAS,-making a
light mark around the penny with a black lead-
pencil, and then by the aid of a magnifying glass



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counting the lines within the circle. You will see
that your penny has covered more than one hun-
dred lines; and then you must remember that at
every place where the shading in the drawing which
the engraver is engraving grows lighter or darker
he has to change the width of the line; for just in
proportion to the thickness of the black line left
between the two white ones will be the "tint" or
"color of the corresponding portion of the printed
picture. These changes are called by engravers
"stops." And where there are many of these,
one square inch of engraving is a fair day's work.
I have spoken of a draw-
ing, for the engraver always _
has a drawing to work from.
Sometimes it is made upon
the wood-block, but it is
more frequently made by
the artist much larger than
the block on which it is to
be engraved, and a reduced
copy of it produced upon A SQUARE INCH OF AN
the block by photography. ENGRAVIG SHOWING
By this plan, the artist can
work much more freely, and the engraver is en-
abled to have the large drawing in front of him,
besides the reduced copy of the same which he is
cutting into lines upon the block.
You see, the engraver is a copyist. He copies
the artist's drawing, and the printing press dupli-
cates his copy thousands of times, so that you and
I may see the drawing too. And being a copyist,
his ambition is to make his copy exactly represent
the thing which he is copying. And to this end,
he often, even after he has been given a beautiful
drawing of some object, seeks for the real object,
and places it before him for study and comparison
while at work. Mr. Marsh, the engraver, did so
when making his wonderful engravings of moths
and butterflies, published in a book called Insects
Injurious toVegetation." And it is said that Thomas
Bewick, who has been called the father of mod-
ern wood-engraving," followed the same plan when
making his engravings of "British Birds."
But it is only within the last two years that it
has occurred to an engraver-not to bring birds
and moths into his studio-but to make a studio
which could go out into the fields and woods and
find not only the birds and moths, but trees and
ferns, and flowers, and even mountains; in fact, all
such things as the artist goes to seek, and, having
found, makes into pictures. I refer to Elbridge
Kingsley, the engraver of "A Midwinter Night,"
the frontispiece of this number of ST. NICHOLAS.
He has built for himself a car, not unlike what you
will sometimes see the gypsies have. It is divided
into what we might call the artistic, culinary, and

marine departments; for, although it is but ten feet
long, three and a half feet wide, and seven feet high,
it includes a studio, a kitchen, and a boat. It is
built of very light, hard wood, and has a slightly
curved roof covered with zinc to shed the rain, a
little window in front, really the gable end, and an
entrance door on one side with a window on each
side of it. On the opposite side is a larger window,
and in the other gable end there is a door leading
out to the kitchen. One half of the studio, to the
height of the window-sill, is occupied by a table or
desk to work on, and a chest of drawers; and on
both sides of the window, above this, are many
smaller drawers filled with engraving tools, paper,
wood-block, colors, etc. The desk or table is
formed from a portion of the side which lifts up,
leaving an open space in the side of the car, for
the engraver's feet. But the most curious portion
of the whole is the bed; for you must know that
this car is Mr. Kingsley's house and home for weeks
at a time. In other words, he lives, works, cooks,
and sleeps in it-sometimes in the lone pine woods,
far from any house, the nearest neighbor being
miles away -sometimes in the shadow of Mount
Tom -sometimes on the outskirts of a New Eng-
land village. Well, when he wishes to go to bed he
lifts up the top of the desk, lets down the side, and,
presto his bed is made !- for what appears to be
a desk is really a bedstead, with curtains, mattress,
pillow, sheets, and blankets.
At one end of the studio is fixed a kerosene
stove and its furniture; over it a ventilator. All
about the upper part of the car, are useful shelves
and hooks. Each window consists of a single pane
of glass, made to slide in sockets like those in a
horse-car, fitted with blinds, and in hot weather
with mosquito-bars. Each window is also fitted
with pretty curtains of material matching in color
the interior of the studio, which is of a pale buff
From the studio a step takes one into the
kitchen, which is also a unique affair-a sort of
portico-like extension, with a zinc roof a little lower
than the main roof of the car. The sides are com-
posed of a light frame, running nearly to the ground
and fitted with shelves. The outside opening of the
kitchen is closed by a light arched trellis of an oval
form, and in stormy weather the whole is covered
with water-proof curtains. The kitchen contains a
zinc reservoir for water, holding about thirty gal-
lons; at its side is a sink fitted with a waste-pipe,
-and capable of being pushed under the studio
when not in use, -and over the reservoir is a cup-
board for holding odds and ends.
But perhaps the most peculiar thing about the
kitchen is that it is always carpeted, although
the carpet is often changed-being sometimes of





green, velvety turf, sometimes of a bed of ferns,
and sometimes of beautiful russet-colored dry
leaves-which means that the kitchen has no
floor, but is simply a sort of enlarged porch.
The whole of the house, studio, and kitchen is
built on a frame with four wheels, not unlike an
ordinary country lumber wagon, and is dragged
by a horse wherever the needs or whims of the
artist take him.
The "marine" department is an annex. It

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made directly from nature, that is to say, he had no
drawing to work from, but drew his little movable
house opposite the landscape he wished to portray,
and engraved upon a wood-block the scene he saw,
-with such omissions and alterations as were
needful for a proper composition of the picture.
Some of the work was done in the studio, sitting
at the desk which has been described and look-
ing through the open window; but more was done
under the shade of a convenient tree, the artist

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consists of a very light boat fitted with outriggers
for the oars, and a sliding seat, and mounted on a
pair of wheels for land transportation.
When ready for traveling shafts are put to the
car; a horse harnessed in them; the reins passed
in through the little window in the front gable; the
boat fastened by a bolt to the kitchen behind; all
glassware and crockery packed in the desk-bed and
in a box which is kept underneath the car when in
camp; then, with a good supply of canned foods,
the artist is ready for weeks or months of work,
either sketching or engraving (for he does both), in
the woods.
And now a few words as to his method of work.
The first original block which Mr. Kingsley made
was In a New England Forest," published in The
Century Magazine for November, 1882. This was

holding his block in one hand and his graver in
the other, working in a free-hand manner, not only
cutting, into lines, which could be printed, forms
already on his block, but drawing others with the
graver, a difficult feat if we remember how many
lines have to be made in one square inch of a wood-
block, and that these must be cut into a hard sur-
face with a steel tool, and that in engraving there
is no means of erasing a line once made.
Not all Mr. Kingsley's blocks have been pro-
duced in this way, however. Most of his later work
is more the result of observation of nature than a
direct copy from an actual scene. Thus, "At Sea,"
printed in The Century for April, 1883, grew out of
the article which accompanied it. Mr. Kingsley
many made trips down New York Bay, studying
effects of cloud and water, making memoranda in




i tL


pencil and black and white; and from these he
evolved his beautiful picture. And so, too, with
"A Mid-winter Night." Of course, the artist could
not sit out of doors upon such a night to make an
engraving, nor even sit at the window of his car to
look out upon what, by contrast with the light
within, would be nothing but blackness. But on
many a rough winter night has he wrapped him-
self in a warm coat and gone out into the wild
storms to study just such an effect as this, fixing
in his mind some needed detail, and upon return-
ing home transferring it to the wood-block; until
at last, when he sets out to make an engraving
which shall embody all these impressions, he gives
us in this frontispiece a truthful representation of

such a night as we should choose to spend in stay-
ing at home.
Thus you will see that Mr. Kingsley's work is
original- that is, he makes the picture as well as
the engravings. But do not interpret this statement
as belittling the work of other engravers. If all
engravers chose to be originators only, the thou-
sands of readers of ST. NICHOLAS would not have
the pleasure of seeing Edouard Frere's Young
Guard," nor the many other reproductions of
beautiful and celebrated paintings which have
been published in this magazine. And it requires
not only a high degree of mechanical skill, but fine
artistic knowledge and feeling, to faithfully render
the forms and tints of a good drawing or painting.

~I---- -II-
~~2* ~ ~ ~ -. .-



" AH, ME Ah, me!" a cricket said,
" Grandmother Gray has gone to bed:
No one listens but little Fred
To all the tunes I play;
So I will hop away."

"I '11 climb the chimney, and begin
To play my dulcet violin.
Too long I 've waited; 't is a sin
For Genius thus to stay
Hid from the light of day "

Poor little Fred began to moan :
" Grandmother Gray, the cricket 's gone!
And you and I are left alone!
Alas! I fear," he said,
The summer time is dead 1"

With many a weary hop-hop-hop
The cricket reached the chimney-top.
But, ah the people did not stop !
None heard in all the din
The cricket's violin.

The cricket played in every key,
From do, fa, la, to do, re, imi;
From a, b, c, to x, y, z,
He played both slow and fast,-
The heedless crowd went past.

Jack Frost came 'round and nipped- his bow,
And then the music was so low,
The cricket cried in tone of woe:
Oh, for the hearthstone bed,
The ears of little Fred "





(Authlor of The Field of the Cloth of Gold" and Comedies fo Children.")


(Afterwa'rd the Emferor Marcus A relies A ntoninus.)
[A. D. 137.]
A PERFECT autumn day. Above, the clear sky
of Italy; below, a grassy plain, sloping gently
down from the brown cliffs and ruined ramparts
of old Veii. In the background, under the shade
of the oaks, a dozen waiting attendants; and here,
in the open space before us, three trim and sturdy
Roman youths, all flushed with the exercise of a
royal -game of..ball. Come, boys and girls of
1884, go back with me seventeen and a half cent-
uries, and join the dozen lookers-on as they follow
this three-cornered game of ball. They call it the
trigon. It is a favorite ball-game with the Roman
youth, in which the three players, standing as if
on a right-angled triangle, pitch and catch the
ball, or fila, at long distances and with the left
hand only. It is not so easy as you may think.
Try it some time and see for yourself.

THIS way-toss it this way, Aufidius; our
good Sejus will need more lessons from old Tri-
malchio, the gladiator, ere he outranks us at
And with a quick but guarded dash of the left
hand the speaker caught the ball as it came spin-
ning toward him, and with as vigorous a left-
hander" sent it flying across to young Sejus.
"Faith, my Marcus," said Sejus, as he caught
the ball with difficulty, "the gallop from Lorium
has made me somewhat stiff of joint, and I pitch
and catch but poorly. Keep the fila flying, and
I may grow more elastic, though just now I feel
like our last text from Epictetus-'a little soul
bearing about a corpse.' "
What then Art as stiff as that, old Sejus? "
gayly shouted Aufidius. Ho! brace thee up,
man," he cried, as he sent the ball whirling across
to Marcus; "brace thee up, and use rather the
words of our wise young Stoic here-' Be like the
promontory against which the waves continually
break, but it stands firm and tames the fury of the
waters around it.' "
"'T is .well applied, Aufidius. But-said I all
that?" Marcus inquired.
"Ay, so didst thou, my Marcus. 'T is all

down on my tablets." And with merry talk the
game went on.
But soon old Ballio, the ordinarius, or upper
servant, left the oak shade and said to Marcus,
" Come, my master; the water-glass shows that
we must soon ride on if we mean to reach Rome
by dinner-time."
So the game was broken off and, after a few
nibbles at the cakes and sweetmeats which one
of the slaves carried to stay the stomachs" of
the travelers, the call To horse was given, and
the party moved on toward the city. The spirits
of the lads ran high; and though the one called
Marcus had a sedate and quiet look, he was
roused into healthy and hearty boyishness as,
over the Etruscan plains, they galloped on to
They had been riding, perhaps, a short half
hour, when they saw, coming down a cross-road
that entered the highway just beyond them, a
large flock of sheep returning from their summer
pasturage on the hills, in charge of three shep-
herds and their families. The game and the
gallop had made the boys ripe for mischief; for,
though close and patient students, they were in
their hours of sport as ready for a frolic as are any
school-boys of to-day.
The shepherds, seeing a party of hard riders
coming toward them, looked at their sheep anx-
iously and eyed the strangers suspiciously. For
sheep-stealing was of common occurrence in those
days, and, when changing pastures, the shepherds
were kept constantly on the watch.
The quick eye of Aufidius marked the suspicions
of the shepherds.
"Why, Marcus," he exclaimed, "yonder fel-
lows surely take us for highwaymen."
Highwaymen, indeed !" said Sejus indig-
nantly. Dost think the knaves could mistake
the noble Marcus Verus for a cowardly sheep-
stealer ? "
"And why not?" said Marcus, laughingly.
Man looks at man but as his reason tells him.
If shepherds look but for sheep-stealers, to them,
at first, all men are sheep-stealers. Come," he
added, gayly, let us not disappoint them. What
did our teacher Rusticus tell us but yesterday:
That which is an hinderance is made a further-
ance to an act, and that which is an obstacle on
the road helps us on the road.' Shall we not put

*Copyright, 1883, by E. S. Brooks. All rights reserved.



his text to the test ? Behold our obstacle on the
road Let us ride down the sheep "
The spirit of mischief is contagious. Down the
highway dashed the whole party, following the
lead of Marcus and his cry of Forward, friends "
while the now terrified shepherds turned their
huddling sheep around, and with many cries and
much belaboring struggled back'to the cross-road
to escape the pretended robbers. But the swift
horses soon overtook the slow-footed shepherds,
and the laughing riders, with uplifted weapons
and shouts of seeming victory, were quickly at the
heels of the flock. Then came a change. The
shepherds, finding that they could not outrun their
pursuers, stopped, wheeled around, and stood on
the defensive, laying valiantly about them with
crook and staff.
: Go on and increase n valor, O boy this is
the path to immortality," shouted the nimble
Aufidius, and with this quotation from Virgil, he
swooped down and caught up a'struggling lamb.
"What says your philosophy now,, O Marcus ?"
said Sejus as, rather ruefully, he rubbed an aching
shin, sore from the ringing thwack of a shepherd's
Marcus dodged a similar blow and replied:
"That nothing happens to any man, O Sejus,
which he is not fitted by nature to bear. But
I have had enough. Let us go our way in peace."
And turning from the fray, the whole party rode
rather ingloriously from the field of defeat, while
the victorious shepherds vowed a lamb to Pales,
the patron of shepherds, for their deliverance from
so blood-thirsty a band of robbers.
So, flushed and merry over their adventure, the
three lads rode on to Rome; but, ere they came in
sight of the yellow Tiber, a fleet Numidian slave
came running toward them, straight and swift as
an arrow, right in the middle of the highway.
Marcus recognized him as one of the runners of
his uncle, the proconsul Titus Antoninus, and
wondered as to his mission. The Numidian stopped
short at sight of the party, and, saluting Marcus,
handed him a small scroll. The boy unrolled it,
and at once his face became grave.
For me; this for me? he said, and, in seem-
ing surprise, laid his hand upon the arm of his
friend Aufidius. Then, as if remembering that
he was a Stoic, whose desire was to show neither
surprise, pleasure, nor pain, let what might hap-
pen, he read the scroll carefully, placed it in his
mantle and said, half aloud, How ridiculous is
he who is surprised at anything which happens in
life! "
What is it, O Marcus? Aufidius asked.
Friends," said the lad, "this scroll from my
Uncle Antoninus tells me that I am named by the

Emperor's council as Prefect- of the city while
the consuls and magistrates are at the Latin
Hail to thee, Prefect hail hail hail! cried
Aufidius and Sejus, while the whole company
joined in a respectful salute.
Would it were some one more worthy than I,
Aufidius," said Marcus solemnly.
"Nay, it is rightly decreed, my Marcus," pro-
tested his friend proudly. Did not the Emperor
himself say of thee: 'Non Verus, sed Verissimus / 'f
and who but thee, Marcus Verissimus-Marcus
the most true-should be the governor of Rome ?"
"But think of it, friends! I am but a boy after
all. Who can respect a Prefect of sixteen?" still
queried the modest Marcus.
Sejus at once dipped into history.
And why not, 0 Marcus? he asked. "Was
not Tiberius Caesar a public orator at nine, and
Augustus a master of the horse at seventeen?
Was not Titus a quaestor t before he was eighteen,
and the great Julius himself a priest of Jupiter at
fourteen? And shall not Marcus Verus, in whose
veins runs the blood of the ancient kings, rightly
be prefect of the city at sixteen ? "
"Thou art a good pleader, my Sejus," Marcus
said pleasantly. Since, then, I must be prefect,
may I be a just one, and take for my motto the
text of the good Rusticus : If it is not right, do
not do it; if it is not true, do not say it.' Forward,
my good friends! The lictors await me at the city
So they pressed forward and, with more de-
corum, rode along the Via Cassia and across the
Milvian Bridge to the broader Via Lata and the
city gate. Here an escort of six lictors with their
rods of office welcomed Marcus, and, thus accom-
panied, the young magistrate passed down the Via
Lata-the street now known as "the Corso," the
Broadway of modern Rome-to the palace of his
uncle Antoninus, near the Ccelian gate.
"Hail, Prefect !" came the welcome of the no-
ble uncle (one of the grand characters of Roman
history). "And how fare the hens at Lorium?"
For the good proconsul, so soon to be hailed as
Caesar and Emperor, loved the country pleasures
and country cares of his farm at Lorium more
than all the sculptured magnificence of the impe-
rial city.
"The hens are well conditioned, O Antoninus,"
answered the boy simply.
"But what said I? his uncle exclaimed gayly.
"What cares a prefect of Rome for the scratching
hens of Lorium? As for me, most noble Prefect,
I am but a man from whom neither power nor
philosophy can take my natural affections "; and,
as the parrot swinging over the door-way croaked



* Governor of the city.

t Not true, but most true! "

I An officer of the treasury.


out his "Salve!" (Welcome!) arm-in-arm uncle
and nephew entered the palace.
Marcus Annius Verus was in all respects a
model boy. Not the namby-pamby model that all
human boys detest, but a right-minded, right-
mannered, healthy, wealthy and wise young Ro-
man of the second century of the Christian era.
At that time (for the world was not yet Christian-
ized) there flourished a race of teachers and phi-
losophers known as Stoics, wise old pagans, who
held that the perfect man must be free from passion,
unmoved by either joy or grief, taking everything
just as it came, with supreme and utter indiffer-
ence. A hard rule that, but this lad's teachers had
been mainly of the School of the Stoics," as it
was called, and their wise sayings had made so deep
an impression on the little Marcus that, when only
twelve years old, he set up for a full-fledged Stoic.
He put on the coarse mantle that was the peculiar
dress of the sect, practiced all their severe rules of
self-denial, and even slept on the hard floor or the
bare ground, denying himself the comfort of a bed,
until his good mother, who knew what was best
for little fellows, even though they were stoics,
persuaded him to compromise on a quilt. He
loved exercise and manly sport; but he was above
all a wonderful student-too much of a student,
in fact; for, as the old record states, "his excess
in study was the only fault of his youth." And
yet he loved a frolic, as the adventure with the
shepherds proves.
Of the best patrician blood of old Rome; the
relative and favorite of the great Emperor Hadrian;
a great scholar, a capital gymnast, a true friend,
a modest and unassuming lad; he was trying, even
at sixteen, to make the best of himself, squaring
all his actions by the rule that he, in after years,
put into words: ."I do my duty; other things
trouble me not." Manly boys, with good principles,
good manners, and good actions, are young gentle-
men always, whenever and wherever they may live ;
and quickly enough, as did young Marcus of
Rome, they find their right place in the regard and
affections of the people about them.
Well, the days of waiting have passed. The
great festival to Jove, the Feriae Latinae, has drawn
all the high magistrates to Mount Albanus, and in
their stead, as prefect of the city, rules the boy
Marcus. In one of the basilica, or law courts of
the great Forum, he sits invested with the toga of
office, the ring and the purple badge; and, while
twelve sturdy lictors guard his curule chair, he
listens to the cases presented to him and makes
many wise decisions-" in which honor," says the
old record, "he acquitted himself to the general
"Most noble Prefect," said one of the court

messengers, or accensi, as they were called, there
waits, without, one Lydus the herdsman, demand-
ing justice."
Bid him enter," said Marcus ; and there came
into the basilica one whose unexpected appearance
brought consternation to Aufidius and Sejus, as
they waited in the court, and caused even the calm
face of Marcus to flush with surprise. Lydus the
herdsman was none other than their old ac-
quaintance, the shepherd of the Etruscan high-
way !
Most noble Prefect," said the shepherd, with
a low salutation, "I am a free herdsman of Lake
Sabatinus, and I ask for justice against a band of
terrible highwaymen who lurk on the Via Cassia,
near to old Veii. Only three days since, did these
lawless fellows beset me and my companions, with
our flocks, on the highway, and cruelly rob and
maltreat us. I pray thee, let the cohortes vigilumn
(armed police) search out and punish these rob-
bers; and let me, too, be fully satisfied for the
sheep they did force from me."
Not so fast, man," said Marcus, as the shep-
herd concluded his glib recital. "Couldst thou
identify these knaves, if once they were appre-
hended ?"
Ay, that could I, noble Prefect," replied the
shepherd, boldly. "They were led on by three
villainous rascals, and these had with them a
crowd of riotous followers."
"Ha! is it so ? said Marcus. "Aufidius! Sejus !
I pray you, step this way." His two friends, in
some wonder as to his intention, approached the
tribunal; and Marcus, stepping down from his
curule chair, placed himself between them. "Three
villainous rascals, thou didst say. Were they
aught like us, think'st thou ?"
"Like you? 0 noble young Prefect!" began
the shepherd, protestingly. But when, at a word
from Marcus, the three lads drew back their
arms as if to brandish their weapons, and shouted
their cry of attack, the mouth of Lydus stood
wide open in amazement, his cropped head
fairly bristled with fright, and, with a hasty ex-
clamation, he turned on his heel, and ran out of
the basilica.
Ho, bring him back Marcus commanded;
and, guarded by two lictors, Lydus was dragged
reluctantly back into the presence of the young
So, my shepherd," said Marcus, "thou hast
recognized thy villainous rascals surely, though thy
fear was larger than thine eyeballs ; for thou didst
multiply both the followers and the harm done to
thee. Thou hast asked for justice, andjustice thou
shalt have Forasmuch as I and my companions
did frighten thee, though but in sport, it is wise to




do well what doth seem but just. I, then, as
Prefect of the city, do fine Marcus Annius Verus,
Aufidius Victorianus, and Sejus Fruscianus, each,
one hundred sestertii (about five dollars), for inter-
fering with travelers on the public highway; and
I do command the'lictors to mark the offenders

fines, and, handing the money to an accensus,
bade him pay the shepherd. With many a bow,
Lydus accepted the money, and with the words,
"0 noble young Prefect! 0 wise beyond thy
years !" he would have withdrawn again.
Hold said Marcus, ascending the tribunal,


unless they do straightway pay the fine here laid hear the rest! Because thou hast placed a false
upon them." charge before this tribunal, and hast sought to
Aufidius and Sejus looked troubled. They had profit by thy lying tongue, I, the Prefect, do com-
barely a hundred sestertii between them ; but mand that thou dost pay over to the scribus (clerk
Marcus drew forth an amount equal to the three of the court) the sum of three hundred sestertii, to



be devoted to the service of the poor; and that
thou dost wear the wooden collar until thy fine is
Very soberly and ruefully, Lydus paid over the
price of his big stories (exactly the sum which he
had received from the scribus), and departed from
the basilica of the boy prefect, if not a poorer, at
least a sadder and a wiser man.
The days of Marcus' magistracy were soon over,
and when the great festival of Jove was ended, and
the magistrates had returned to the city, the lad
gave up the curule chair and the dress and duties
of his office, and retired to his mother's house,
bearing with him the thanks of the magistrates,
the approval of the Emperor, and the applause of
the people.
The villa of the matron Domitia Calvilla, the
mother of Marcus, stood embowered in delightful
gardens on the Ccelian hill, the most easterly of the
famous Seven Hills of Rome. In an age of splen-
dor, when grand palaces lined the streets and
covered the hill slopes of the imperial city, when
fortunes were spent upon baths and gardens, or
wasted on a gala dress, or on a single meal, this
pleasant house was conducted upon a plan that
suited the home ways of the mother and the quiet
tastes of the son. Let us enter the spacious vesti-
bule. Here in the door-way, or ostium, we stop to
note the Salve! (Welcome !) wrought in mosaic
on the marble floor, and then-pass into the atrium,
,or great living room of the house, where the female
slaves are spinning deftly, and everything tells of
order and a busy life.- Now, let us pass on to the
spacious court-yard, in the very heart of the house.
In the unroofed center a beautiful fountain shoots
its jets of cooling spray from a marble cistern of
clear water. -
And here, by the shining fountain, in the cen-
tral court, stand two persons-- Marcus and his
mother. The lad has laid aside his toga, or outside
mantle, and his close-fitting, short-sleeved tunic,
scarcely reaching to his knees, shows a well-knit
frame and a healthy, sun-browned skin. His moth-
er, dressed in the tunic and long white stola, or
outer robe, is of matronly presence and pleasant
face. And, as they talk together in low and ear-
nest tones, they watch with loving eyes the motions
of the dark-eyed little Annia; a winsome Roman
maiden of thirteen, as, perched upon a cage of pet
pigeons, she gleefully teases with a swaying pea-
cock plume now the fluttering pigeons and now
the wary-eyed Dido, her favorite cat.
".But there is such a thing as too much self-
denial, my Marcus," said the mother in answer to
some remark of the lad.
"Nay, this is not self-denial, my mother; it is
simple justice," replied the boy. Arenot Annia
VOL. XI.-22.

and I children of the same father and mother?
Is it just that I should receive all the benefit of our
family wealth, and that she should be dependent
on my bounty?"
"Divide then thy father's estate, my son. Let
Annia and thyself share alike, but give it not all
to thy sister," his mother suggested.
To whom we love much we should be ready to
give much. Is it not so, O mother?." the boy
So I believe, my son," his mother answered.
And if I.seek to act justly in this matter, shall
I not follow thy counsels, my mother? Marcus
continued; for .thou hast said, No longer talk.
about the kind of a man a good man ought to be,
but be such.'"
"Ah, Marcus," the pleased mother exclaimed,
"thou wilt be a happy man, too, if thou canst go
ever by the right way, and think and act in the
right way, as now. Thou art a good youth."
"And what is goodness, mother," argued the
young philosopher, "but the desire to do justice
and to practice it, and in this to let desire end?
Let me then, as I desire,, give all my father's
estate to my sister Annia.: My grandfather's is
sufficient for my needs. So shall Annia have her
fair marriage :portion, and we, my mother, shall
all be satisfied."
And now, his sister Annia, wearying of her play
with the pigeons,, dropped her peacock plume
and ran merrily toward her brother.
"0 Marcus," she cried, "'t will soon be time for
the bath. Do come and toss the piila with me;-
that. is," she added, with mock reverence, "if so
grand a person as the prefect of Rome can play
at ball! "
".And why not, my Annia? asked her mother,
proudly; ."even the world-ruling Julius loved his
game of ball."
Ah, but our Marcus is greater:than the great
Cesar. Is he not, mother ? Annia asked, teas-
"Aye, that he is," the mother answered, feel-
ingly; "for, know that he has this day, given up
to thee, his sister, one half -of his heritage, and
.more unwise and improvident youth!" she
added, fondly.
So let it end, mother," the boy said, as the
pretty Annia sprang to him.with.a caress. Come,
Annia, let 'us see who can toss the pila best-a
woman of property, such as thou, or the prefect of
three days." And as hand in hand the brother and
sister passed cheerily through the pillared portico,
the mother looked after them with a happy heart
and said, as did that other noble Roman matron
of whom history tells us: "These are my jewels "
The days passed. Winter grew to spring. The


ides of March have come. And now it is one of
the spring holidays of Rome, the fourteenth of
March in the year 138-the Equiria, or festival
of Mars. Rome is astir early, and every street
of the great city is thronged with citizens and
strangers, slaves and soldiers, all hurrying toward
the great pleasure-ground of Rome-the Circus
Maximus. Through every portal the crowds press
into the vast building, filling its circular seats,
anxious for the spectacle. The magistrate of the
games for this day, it is said, is to be the young
Marcus Annius, he who was prefect of the city
during the last Latin Games; and, moreover, the
festival is to close with a grand venatio-a wild-
beast hunt!
There is a stir of expectation, a burst of trumpets
from the Capitol, and all along the Sacred street
and through the crowded Forum goes up the shout
of the watchers, Here they come With the
flutes playing merrily, with swaying standards and
sacred statues gleaming in silver and gold, with
proud young cadets on horse and on foot, with
priests in their robes and guards with crested
helms, with strange and marvelous beasts led by
burly keepers, with a long string of skilled per-
formers, restless horses, and gleaming chariots,
through the Forum and down the Sacred street
winds the long procession, led by the boy magis-
trate, Marcus of Rome, the favorite of the Emper-
or. A golden chaplet, wrought in crusted leaves,
circles his head; a purple toga drapes his trim,
young figure; while the flutes and trumpets play
their loudest before him, and the stout guards
march at the heels of his bright-bay pony. So
into the great circus passes the long procession,
and as it files into the arena, two hundred thousand
excited people- think, boys, of a circus-tent that
holds two hundred .thousand people! -rise to
their feet and welcome it with hearty hand-clap-
ping. The trumpets sound the prelude, the young
magistrate (standing in his suggests, or state box)
flings the ma5p5a, or white flag, into the course as
the signal for the start; and, as a ringing shout
goes up, four glittering chariots, rich in their
decorations of gold and polished ivory, and each
drawn by four plunging horses, burst from their.
arched stalls and dash around the track. Green,
blue, red, white- the colors of the drivers- stream
from their tunics. Around and around they go.
Now one and now another is ahead. The people
strain and cheer, and many a wager is laid as to
the victor. Another shout The red chariot,
turning too sharply, grates against the meta, or
short pillar that stands at the upper end of the
track, guarding the low central wall; the horses
rear and plunge, the driver struggles manfully to
control them, but all in vain; over goes the chariot,

while the now maddened horses dash wildly on
until checked by mounted attendants and led off
to their stalls. Blue blue!" Green green "
rise the varying shouts, .as the contending chariots
still struggle for the lead. White is far behind.
Now comes the seventh or final round. Blue
leads No, green is ahead! Neck and neck
down the home stretch they go magnificently, and
then the cheer of victory is heard, as, with a final
dash, the green rider strikes the white cord first
and the race is won !
And there, where the race is fiercest and the ex-
citement most intense, sits the staid young Mar-
cus, unmoved, unexcited, busy with his ivory tab-
lets and his own high thoughts! For this wise
young Stoic, true to his accepted philosophy, had
mastered even the love of excitement--think of
that, you circus-loving boys!-He has left it on
record that, even as a youth, he had learned "to
be neither of the green nor of the blue party at the
games in the circus," and while he looked upon
such shows as dangerous and wasteful (for in those
days they cost the state immense sums), he felt,
still, that the people enjoyed them, and he said
simply: We can not make men as we would have
them; we must bear with them as they are and
make the best of them we can." And so it hap-
pened that at this splendid race at which, to please
the people, he presided as magistrate, this boy of
sixteen sat probably the only unmoved spectator
in that whole vast circus.
Now, in the interval between the races, come the
athletic sports: foot-racing and wrestling, 'rope-
dancing and high leaping, quoit-throwing and
javelin matches. One man runs a race with a
fleet Cappadocian horse; another expert rider
drives two bare-backed horses twice around the
track, leaping from backto back as the horses
dash around. Can you see any very great differ-
ence between the circus performance of A. D. 138
and one of A. D. 1884?
Among the throng of "artists" on that far-off
March day there came a bright little fellow of ten
or eleven years, a rope-dancer and a favorite with
the crowd. Light and agile, he trips along the
slender rope that stretches high above the arena.
Right before the magistrate's box the boy poises
in mid air, and even the thoughtful young director
of the games looks up at the graceful motions of
the boy. Hark! a warning shout goes up; now,
another; the poor little rope-dancer, anxious to find
favor in the eyes of the young noble, over-exerts
himself, loses his balance on the dizzy rope and,
toppling over, falls with a cruel thud to the ground
and lies there before the great state box with a
broken neck-dead. Marcus hears the shout, he
sees the falling boy. Vaulting from his canopied




s884] HISTORIC BOYS. 331

box he leaps down into the arena, and so tender is
he of others, Stoic though he be, that he has the
poor rope-dancer's head in his lap even before the
attendants can reach him. But no life remains in
that bruised little body and, as Marcus tenderly
resigns the dead gymnast to the less sympathetic
slaves, he commands that ever after a bed shall be
laid beneath the rope as a protection against such
fatal falls. This became the rule; and, when next

went on. Athletes and gymnasts did their best to
excel; amidst wild excitement the chariots whirled
around and around the course, and then the arena
was cleared for the final act-the wild-beast hunt.
The wary keepers raise the stout gratings before
the dens and cages, and the wild animals, freed
from their prisons, rush into the great open space,
blink stupidly in the glaring light, and then with
roar and growl echo the shouts of the spectators.


I "i N

you see the safety-net spread beneath the rope- Here are great lions from Numidia, and tigers
walkers, the trapeze performers, and those who from far Arabia, wolves from the Apennines and
perform similar "terrific feats, remember that bears from Libya, not caged and half-tamed as we
its use dates back to the humane order of Marcus, see them now, but wild and fierce, loose in the
the boy magistrate, seventeen centuries ago. arena. Now the hunters swarm in, on horse and
But, in those old days, the people had to be be on foot,- trained and supple Thracian gladiators,
amused -whatever happened. Human life was skilled G@etulian hunters, with archers, and spear-
held too cheaply for a whole festival to be stopped men, and net-throwers. All around the great
because a little boy was killed, and so the sports arena rages the cruel fight. Here, a lion stands


at bay; there, a tigress crouches for the spring; a
snarling wolf snaps at a keen-eyed Thracian, or
a bear with ungainly trot shambles away from the
spear of his persecutor. Eager and watchful the
hunters shoot and thrust, while the vast audience,
more eager, more relentless, more brutal than
beast or hunter, applaud, and shout and cheer.
But the young magistrate, who had, through all
his life, a marked distaste for such cruel sport,
turns from the arena and, again taking out his
tablets, busies himself with his writing, unmoved
by the contest and carnage before him.
The last hunted beast lies dead in the arena; the
last valorous hunter has been honored with his
palma, or reward, as victor ; the slaves stand
ready with hook and rope to drag off the
slaughtered animals; the great crowd pours out
of the vast three-storied buildings; the shops in
the porticos are noisy with the talk of buyers and
sellers; the boy magistrate and his escort pass
through the waiting throng; and the Festival
Games are over. But, ere young Marcus reaches
the Forum on his return, a shout goes up from the
people, and, just before the beautiful temple of the
Twin Gods, where the throng is densest, flowers
and wreaths are thrown beneath his pony's feet,
and a storm of voices raises the shout:
"Ave Imperator! Ave Caesar!"
"What means that shout, Aufidius?" he asked
his friend, who rode in the escort. But the only
reply Aufidius made was to join his voice with that
of the enthusiastic throng in a second shout:
"Ave Imperator! Auguste, 1Dii te servent! "
(Hail, 0 Emperor The gods save your majesty !)
Then Marcus knew that the decree of the dying
Emperor Hadrian had been confirmed, and that
he, Marcus Annius Verus, the descendant of the
ancient kings, the boy philosopher, the unassuming
son of a noble mother, had been adopted as the son
and successor of his uncle Antoninus, who was to
reign after Hadrian's death, and that where he went,
through the Forum and up the Sacred street, there
rode the heir to the greatest throne in the world,
the future Emperor of Rome.
A Stoic still, unmoved, save for the slight flush
that tinged his cheek as he acknowledged the
greeting of the happy people, he passed on to his
mother's house, and, in that dear home, amid the

green gardens of the Ccelian hill, he heard her lips
speak her congratulations, and bent his head to
receive her kiss of blessing.
I lose a son, but gain an Emperor," she said.
"No, my mother," the boy replied, proudly,
"me thou shalt never lose. For, though I leave
this dear home for the palace of the Caesars, my
heart is still here with that noble mother from
whom I learned lessons of piety and benevolence
and simplicity of life, and abstinence from evil
deeds and evil thoughts."
Before five months had passed the great Emperor
Hadrian died at Baie, in his hill-shaded palace by
the sea, and the wise, country-loving uncle of
Marcus succeeded to the throne as the Emperor
Antoninus Pius. During all his glorious reign of
twenty-three years, he had no more devoted ad-
mirer, subject, helper, and friend, than his adopted
son and acknowledged successor, Marcus, who,
in the year A. D. 161, ascended the throne of the
Cesars as the great Emperor Marcus Aurelius
The life of this Roman Marcus was one of un-
sought honors and titles. At six, a knight of the
Equestrian order; at eight, one of the priests of
Mars; at twelve, a rigid Stoic; at sixteen, a magis-
trate of the city; at seventeen, a qusestor, or rev-
enue officer; at nineteen, a consul and Caesar; at
forty, an Emperor.
A noble boy; a noble man; preserving, as has
been said of him, "in a time of universal corrup-
tion, a nature sweet, pure, self-denying, and un-
affected,"-he teaches us all, boys and men alike,
a lesson of real manliness. Here are two of his
precepts, which we none of us are too young to
remember, none of us too old to forget: "The
best way of avenging thyself is not to become like
the wrong-doer"; Let me offer to the gods the
best that is in me; so shall I be a strong man,
ripened by age, a friend of the public good, a
Roman, an Emperor, a soldier at his post awaiting
the signal of the trumpet, a man ready to quit life
without a fear." And so we have opened this
series of" Historic Boys with an account of a boy
who was one of the foremost figures of his time,
and who himself was manly, modest, princely,
brave, and true-the boy magistrate, Marcus of
Rome, the greatest and best of the Antonines.

;' ,

-=-- ..- G





Ring out, 0 bells, a :.. .. peal,
On this auspicious morn;
A little maid, with golden locks
And soul of heaven born,
Is nine years old,
Is nine years old.

From out your swelling throats, 0 birds,
Pour forth your sweetest lays;
A little girl, with eyes of blue
And winsome, joyous ways,
Is nine years old,
Is nine .:. old.

0 merry brook within the glade,
Dance lightly on your way;
A precious child, this gladsome June,
And on this very day,
Is nine years old,
Is nine years old.

-- '6 -,


Fresh summer flowers, your petals opo,
',, !.. fragrance fill the air;
A human blossom on its stem
Unfolding, free and fair,
Is nine years old,
Is nine years old.

Young Balder, frisky household pet,
Come,. wag your tail in glee;
Your little mistress, on this day,
As even you may see,
Is nine years old,
Is nine years old.

Come, uncles, aunts, and cousins, too,
And join in festive mirth;
Dear grandmamma, be young to-day,
Our maid of priceless worth
Is nine years old,
Is nine years old.

II Ii I A. *II
:I I--IX



i~-~ A




7W** -

in Lieme se ason now comes on.
And Pisces entertains the Sun;
And for Ash-Wednesday dinner frics
The biggest fishes in the skies.

Doy ay Moon's Moon's
Month. Week. Age. Place.














Sun on
Noon Holidays and Incidents.

4th Sunday after Epiph'y.
D near Saturn.
) close to Aldebaran.

) near Jupiter.
D near Mars.
Septuagesima Sunday.
D near Regulus.

St. Valentine's day.
p near Spica.

Sexagesima Sunday.

D near Antares.

Washington's b'day, 1732.

Quinquagesima Sunday.

Pancake Tuesday.
Ash -Wednesday.

( D passes over Venus,
11 A.M.lose toVenu
( after sunset.


SEE our snow fort "
"Did you make it?"
"That we did."
"We'll storm and take it."
"Bet you wont! "
"Well, we'll try."
Then the snow-balls swiftly fly.

(See Introduction, page 255 ST. NICHOLAS for January.)*

FEBRUARY I5th, 8.30 P.M.
VENUS has just set: she may be seen in the west after sunset,
but is not very bright yet. MARS, a little to the east of our
point of observation, is still at his brightest. He has moved
backward, to the west, among the stars, and is now nearer to
JUPITER, who shines as brightly as during the last month.
JUPITER is now still nearer to the twin stars Castor and Pollux,
and exactly in a line with them. SATURN has not sensibly
altered his position among the stars, though he is now, with
Aldebaran and the Pleiades, farther to the west than we saw
him in January; for the whole starry sphere, by the movement
of the Sun among the stars, has appeared to move two hours
westward. Orion, which, last month, was about one hour
to the east of our south mark, is now.about one hour to the
west of it. Sirius is now in the best position to be observed
during the year, for it is almost due south. Notice the bright
stars under it; they are also in the constellation of CanislMajor.
Procyon, between JUPITER and Sirius, is still to the east, but
in March it too will at this hour have passed to the west. The
bright star in the south-east is Regulus, the principal star in
the constellation Leo, The Lion, one of the constellations of
the Zodiac.
Notice the Milky Way. It forms an arch of faint, white
light from the south-east, touching Betelguese, and passing
overhead close to Capella to the north-west. Its light comes
from millions of stars, too small and far off to be separately
distinguished. Let us notice Aldebaran again. It is one of
five stars in the form of a >, called the Hyades.
We can now trace another step in the course of the Sun
during the year, for the bright star, Regulus, marks the place
where he will shine on the o2th of August.


"WHERE did you come from so early ? said the English Sparrow to a Robin Red-breast, one cold
February morning.
From a lovely orange-grove in the South," replied the Robin.
Well! you had better have stayed there," said the Sparrow; we shall have more snow, and what
will the Robin do then, poor thing? "
Look here! said the Robin, "I 'm a natural born American, and wont stand any such airs from
foreigners "; and, so saying, he attacked the Sparrow so fiercely that His Lordship was glad to slink
away and hide his head under his wing, poor thing. "'Well! said the Robin, after his declaration of
independence, "I think I had better go back, after all; it does seem rather stormy, and it 's always best
to take good advice, no matter if you don't like the way it is offered."

*The names of planets are printed in capitals; those of constellations in Italics.







- *, ~j *' >.:.--
El' '/ .1

'II, -
I-.,_ ,, -. ,., ,: ..,

-7 7 7 -, ,i!: I

II L I'M here, Mother Nature!" exclaimed February, with a warm burst of enthusiasm. Bt .- -' I
manner chilled as he added, with a sigh: "I don't think I'm of much use though, and I'. .
I 've got to stay twenty-nine days with you this year. It does not seem to be settled whether my business is
to thaw out the streams or to freeze them up, so I do a little of both. If it were not for St. Valentine's Day, I think -
P I should try to drop out of the calendar entirely. But I care too much for the pleasure of the young folks to deprive )
them of their dear old Saint. I was young once myself, you know "-and February peered down into a little pool he had
just frozen over, to see if he was growing gray.
"Don't talk of growing old," cried Nature; why, you only have a birthday once in four years. You can't grow old. But
now to work, and please thaw all you can, February, dear, for I'm a little behindhand; the holidays are all over; we must go to
work, and you must do your share. Call the birds from the South, and wake up the crocus and daffodils, or they will be late."




7Frn, To

George Washington.... Westmoreland Co., Va., Feb. 22, 1732 1789-1797 Mt. Vernon, Va., Dec. 14, 1799.
John Adams........... Braintree, Mass............. Oct. 19, 735 1797-I801 Quincy, Mass., July 4, 1826.
Thomas Jefferson..... Shadwell, Albemarle Co.,Va...Apr. 2, 1743 18or-I809 Monticello, Va., July 4, 1826.
James Madison ........ King George, Va........... March 6, 175 1809-187 Montpelier, Va, June 28, 1836.
James Monroe....... Westmoreland Co., Va..Apr. 28, 1758 1817-1825 New York, July 4, 1831.
John Quincy Adams... Braintree, Mass........... July i, 1767 1825-1829 Washington, Feb. 23, 1848.
Andrew Jackson....... Waxhaw Settlement, S. C... March tS, 0767 1829-1837 Hermitage, near Nashville, Tenn., June 8,
Martin Van Buren ..... Kinderhook, N. Y........ December 5, 1782 1837-1841 Kinderhook, July 24, 1862. [1845.
William HenryHarrison. Berkeley, Va............IFebruary, 773 840-0841 \ashington, April 4, o84t.
John Tyler Charles City Co., Va.. March 29, 1790 1841-1845 Richmond, Va., Jan. 17, 1862.
James K. Polk....... Meklenberg Co., N. C.. Nov. 2, 1795 I845-1849 Nathville, Tenn., June 15, 1849.
Zachary Taylor........ Orange Co., Va ........ Nov. 24, 1784 0849-1850 Washington, July 9, 1850.
Millard Fillmore...... Summer Hill, Cayuga Co., N. Y. Jan. 7, 1800oo 85o- 853 Buffalo N. ., March 8, 0874.
Franklin Pierce ........ Hillsborough, N. H.......... Nov. 23, 1804 1853 -857 Concord, N. H., Oct. 8, 1869.
James Buchanan....... Stony Batter Franklin Co.,Pa Ap. 22, 1791 1857-1861 Wheatlands, Lancaster Co., Pa., June I,
Abraham Lincoln ...... Hardin Co., Kentucky.. Feb. 1, I809 861-1865 Washington, April 14, 1865. [868.
Andrew Johnson ....... Raleigh, N. C .............. Dec. 29, 8o8 1865-1869 Near Elizabethtown, Tenn., July 30, 1875.
Ulysses S. Grant....... Point Pleasant, Ohio ....... April 27, 1822 .869-1877
Rutherford B. Haes.. Delaware, Ohio............... Oct. 4, 1822 1877-188
James A. Garfield...... Orange, Ohio .............. Nov. 9, 1831 88i-i88 Elberon, N. J., Sept. 19, 188.
Chester A. Arthur ..... Fairfield, Franklin Co., Vermont, Oct. 5, 1830 188x-



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LOWELL, 1883.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Perhaps you would like to see a picture of my
children. My mamma says I may send you one that was made the same
day that my picture was taken for Papa's album. She says you will know
just how to copy it so that all the little boys and girls can see it. So I send
it with this letter.
Shall I tell you their names? The biggest child is the baby,-but you
know that doll
children don't
grow as other
children do. Her
name is Reba.
She has blue .
eyes, and one
little curl, and is
as cunning as can.
be. The oldest '~ .
child is Mary.
She is ten years
old. She sits by .
the baby, and ..
helps me a great
deal in taking .
care of her. The
little girl with the -.".
long hair and
lace cap is Mabel,
and her brother,
in the Scotch
dress, is Colie.
Lu Sin and Yung
Wing are twins. They came from Japan, and are really adopted chil-
dren; but I would n't have them know this for anything. Lu Sin is the
little girl, Yung Wing is the boy. He is the one sitting in front of Mabel.
They are all very nice children; but, of course, with such a big family,
Mamma says I must expect a good lot of care and trouble. The older
children are very fond of ST. NICHOLAS. I read it to them, and I don't
wonder at their liking it. Your devoted friend, KITTIE R.



4 -
-I -.


If E

,i .-
*i -, "

S,'JA K- IN T-lL- I ULP .

GOOD-MORROW, gentle Valentines !i
And now, as February is a short month, we 'l
proceed at once to business.
Some among you have wished to know what
kind of Silver Bells and Cockle Shells" those
could have been that grew in the garden of Mis-
tress Mary, quite Contrary." So a good friend
who loves the old Nursery Rhymes, though she is
a grown lady and very learned, will now tell you
something about them.

"Mistress Mary, quite contrary;
How does your garden grow?
Silver bells and cockle shells
All in a row."
MOsT bf us children, little and big, have recited this verse; but
comparatively few know there is a meaning attached to the last
two lines. At the time when this rhyme was made there were really
Silver bells and cockle shells," and in rows too, though not grow-
ing in gardens.
n those days-some hundreds of years ago- there were no
coaches. Ladies traveled and visited on horseback; sometimes rid-
ing on a saddle or billion behind a gentleman or man-servant, and
sometimes managing their own horses, with the gentleman riding
alongside, or the groom following behind. The equipment or trap-
pings of these horses were very rich and costly. Generally, the
cloth.which half covered them, and on which the lady rode, would
be of finest woolen or silken material, handsomely embroidered. On
grand occasions, or when the lady was very wealthy or noble, crim-
son velvet or cloth-of-gold would be used, edged with gold fringes
and sprinkled with small pearls, called seed-pearls. The saddles
nd bridles were even more richly decorated, being often set with
jewels or gold and silver ornaments, called "goldsmith's work."
'One fashion, very popular in the times of Henry the Seventh and
Henry the Eighth of England, was to have the bridle studded with
a row of tiny silver cockle shells, and its edge hung with little sil-
ver bells; which, with the motion of the horse, keptup a merry jin-
gle. Bells were also fastened to the point of the stirrup, which was
formed like the toe of a shoe. And this partly explains another
old nursery rhyme, made, no doubt, about the same time:
"Ride a grey horse to Banbury Cross,
To see a fine lady go on a white horse:
Rings on her fingers and bells on her toes,
So she shall have music wherever she goes."
There is a very old book preserved at Skipton Castle in England,
the account book of Henry Clifford, Earl of Cumberland. In this

book, among a great many other entries, little and great, is one of the
purchase by the Earl of "a saddle and bridle for my lady, embossed
of silver cockle shells, and hung with silver bells "; and on the same
page is another entry of a hawk for my lady, with silken jesses,
and a silver bell for the same." It was the custom for noble ladies to
ride with a hawk perched upon their wrists; and this Countess of
Cumberland, who is said to have been beautiful and stately, must
have looked very grand when thus equipped.

Here is a letter that the deacon has asked me
to show you:
DEAR DEACON GREEN: The railroad velocipede which I find de-
scribed in a back number of ST. NICHOLAS (September, 1883) has
been used on our road for over two years, mostly by the telegraph
repairers. They carry two persons facing one another, and a third
often hangs on. But a still more wonderful sight is a common
hand-car with a large sail hoisted, and handled much the same as a
sail on a sail-boat; this sail-car was formerly much used by bridge
carpenters, saving them a great deal of hard work.
My little folks are delighted with the ST. NICHOLAS, and gener-
ally take the latest number to bed to look over till they go to sleep.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am twelve years old. Ohe day I was
down on the sea-shore digging in the sand with some friends of
mine. We were trying to see who could dig the deepest hole. By
and by we all got tired, and some one asked: Why did you not
keep on ? "
I thought for quite a long while, because it made me think of rid-
dles, and then I made up this one:
Why can not a young doctor dig to the other side of the world ?
Answer, Because he has not patients enough.
Your fnend, A. H. C.
MANY persons, in speaking of the Hermit Crab,
consider themselves justified in calling him very
selfish and unprincipled. They believe that his
habit is to watch in his native waters till some
desirable and utterly innocent shell-fish comes
along, when Mr. Hermit C. with greedy cruelty
pounces upon him, eats him, literally, "out of
house and home," and then takes up his abode in
his victim's emptied shell.
Now, is this a fair statement of facts? What
say you, my young aquariuin-keepers? Is the
Hermit Crab as bad as this, or not ?
We will open the discussion with this bit of
writing sent by Jenny H. M., a young member
of the ST. NICHOLAS Agassiz Association:
The Hermit Crab is very odd in its formation and habits. The
crustaceous covering is only over the upper part of the body. The
lower part of the body is soft and worm-like, and might be seized
upon by any hungry sea-"tramps passing by. Being thus unpro-
tected by nature, the little hermit crab finds a way to help himself.
He searches for some empty shell and backs into it; there he lives
until he grows too large for it, when he moves out and starts off in
search of another home.
BROOKLYN, Dec. 13th, 1883.
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT : I read in a New York paper, last
evening, that somebody named William Sexton recently removed
from Short Beach to Babylon, Long Island, taking with him fifty
tame ducks, ten of which were old birds. The ducks, it seems, were
carried in a close box. They remained about their new quarters for
one day, and then disappeared. The following morning these ducks
were found at their old home on the beach, waiting to be fed. As
their wings were clipped, they must have swum the entire distance,
nearly nine miles, in a heavy sea and on a dark night.
This seems to me a wonderful incident, if true. Perhaps some of
your wise and observant little "chicks" may be able to report
authentic duck stories of a similar kind. I have often watched wild
ducks swimming in the distance, and have noticed that they stopped
very often asif to rest, for they did not appear to be catching any-
thing in the way of food. William Sexton's tame ducks must have
been brave swimmers to carry their light forms for such a distance
over the heavy sea to the tune of Home Sweet Home."
Your faithful, but not very young listener, MABEL T. F.





IT may be rather late in the day to show you
this letter, my friends, as it came to me in Octo-
ber last. And yet, as I have since then received
several notes asking questions about ermine fur,
I shall let Master George H.'s explanation serve
as my reply: .
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: I think Charles B.'s composition on
the Ermine, in the October ST. NICHOLAS, page 954, is by far the
most correct of the three that you gave.
The Ermine is a species of the weasel, but considerably larger
than the common weasel. The Ermine is almost ten inches in
length, exclusive of the tail, which is fully four and a half inches
long. This proves that Mabel C. R.'s statement, that the
Ermine grows to be very large, is incorrect.
In the summer the Ermine's coat is a pale reddish-
brown color, the under parts yellowish white, and the tip
of the tail black.
In the winter the little animal turns to a yellowish white
or almost pure white, but the tip of the tail remains black
In making up ermine fur, the tails are inserted in a
regular manner, thus giving the appearance of a spotted
It is often used for the robes of kings and nobles; hence
Mabel C. R.'s mistake. She did not know that many
skins must be sewed together to make one large robe.
Ermine is not so valuable now for ladies' muffs and tip-
pets as it was formerly, for it is no longer fashionable.
One of your many young friends, GEORGE H.
WASHINGTON, D. C., October, 1883.


ABOUT a year ago, as I am informed,
the editor of ST. NICHOLAS showed you a
picture of a beautifully decorated window
in the house of Mr. Vanderbilt, a wealthy
citizen of New York. It was a stained-
glass window,-that is, one made of bits
of richly colored glass, skillfully secured
together with metal so as to form a sort
of transparent picture, after a design by a
famous French artist named Oudinot.
Well, we 've a window-decorator in this
country, a namesake of mine, who, I 'm
willing to say, without any offense to Mr.
Vanderbilt, beats this French designer ut- I
terly. Not only does he plan the picture,
but he does every bit of the work him-
self. His name is Jack-Jack Frost. At
present I have time only to show you one
of his wonderfully beautiful designs, copied
last winter right from a window.
If any of you dear young folk can tell
me something about this clever Jack, and
how he makes his window decorations, I
shall be right glad to hear from you.

Geneva, N. Y., December, 1883.
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: In these days of using compresse
paper or papier-mache (which is only mashed paper after all) fc
very many different kinds of articles, we all have heard of paper
pails and paper bowls, and even of paper boats and paper ca,
wheels; but did ever you hear of a building made of paper? Na
long ago I was told that somewhere in Europe, near Bergen, there
a church built entirely of paper or papier-mache. It is of the Corir
than order of architecture, and is large enough to accommodate
one thousand persons comfortably.
Now, can the Little Schoolna'am, or Deacon Green, or any
your thousands of young hearers, help me to further knowledge
this wonderful paper church? Who has seen it' And where is th
European Bergen? I am, dear J. I. T. P., yours truly,

DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: Did you ever tell your little chicks
anything about the Compass Plant that grows in some of the States
west of the Mississippi river ? If you did not, then will you let me
give them a description of it? It is found mostly on the prairies
and plains of Texas, Utah, and Southern Minnesota. It beln
to the family of the Compaosita, and greatly resembles the ....
in appearance. It emits a strong resinous odor, which has caused it
to be called turpentine plant" also. The name of Compass," or
"Pilot-plant it has received from a peculiarity in the growth of its
leaves, which are arranged along the stalk alternately, and point
exactly north and south. Long ago the Indians had made use of
this plant as a guide-post on the dreary plains, and had imparted
the knowledge of its usefulness to the trappers. The first accounts
of the wonderful plant were received with incredulity, but scientific

investigations soon established the truth of what had been told of it.
Longfellow speaks of it in "Evangeline" saying:

d Look at that delicate plant, which rears its head from the
mr meadow;
er See how its leaves are turned to the north as true as the
ot This is the compass flower, that the finger of God has planted
is Here in the houseless wild, to direct the traveler's journey."
But the dear poet made a mistake when he called it a "delicate
of plant," for it is over man's height, and covered with a rough fuzz.
,f Botanists thought at first that its leaves were attracted by polar mag-
is netism, but they are now satisfied that in this manner the plant is
better protected from the rays of the sun.
Respectfully yours, A LITTLE SCHOOLMA'AnM.




By an oversight, the text as well as the illustration of the piece
entitled Lullaby," and printed on page 95 of our December num-
ber, was credited to Miss Mary A. Lathbury. The lines are really
a translation from the German, and Miss Lathbury only gave them
the pretty setting with which they made their appearance in ST.

DEAR ST. NICHOILAS: I have taken your nice magazine for three
years, and I like it very much. I think the "Tinkham Brothers'
Tide-mill" is splendid. Mamma liked it very much, and she said
she thought that Syl Bartland ought to have a kiss :. i:. :
I -. B.

RICHMOND, VA., 1883.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have been taking you for two years.
My brother took you for me last year for a Christmas gift, and I
hope that he will take it this year. I have a great many Christmas
and other cards. Will not some of the readers please tell me how
to make something of them? I am tired of picture scrap-books.
With best wishes for a happy Christmas,
Your constant reader, BESSIE L.
In the Letter-box" for January, 1883, we printed a letter from'
F. H. P., containing suggestions for a Christmas-card fire-screen.
It would be well, we think, for Bessie L. and other girls who have
"a great many Christmas-cards," to try the experiment which F.
H. P. suggests.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am quite an old boy now--8 last week
--isn't that old? But now, to tell the truth about it, I don't like this
being an old boy much; and I tell you I envy that grade of boys
who can just boast of ten or twelve years with their almost bound-
less freedom. It's such a bother to get old, anyway; yet we are al-
ways desiring it, and 1 rather think we would have to, whether we
did or not. I am as fond of the bright monthly as ever. I have al-
ways read it faithfully and defended it fearlessly. I suppose I should
be ashamed to say it, but I have become almost prejudiced against
other children's magazines. It sounds ridiculous for me to say:
" Boys, be little boys as long as you can, for you'll soon have to be
big boys ; and yet it is proper enough, for I am a district school
teacher with two months' experience. I have never written you a
letter before, though I have often intended to. It often seems to
me as if you were the medium of feeling between/all the boys and
girls in the land. I wish you the friendship and love of all children
everywhere. Your true friend, E. S. P.

I want to tell you of a queer pet we had last summer. Stand-
ish, my oldest brother, got a young woodchuck in the woods, and
he tamed him so that he would snuggle up under his arm, and go
to sleep on his shoulder, and tease to be taken like a little baby.
We all called him Chucky," because he would make such a queer,
solemn, little under-ground, chuckling noise. He was real nice for a
few weeks, and then he got ugly and cross and snapped at us, and
finally he ran off, and we were all glad of it but Standish. M. B.

A correspondent who has been reading the letters in ST. NICH-
OLAS" about "A Ship in the Moon," writes to tell us about an
equally strange and beautiful sight. He says:

I have seen the Ship in the Sun from the deck of the United
States steam-frigate Colorado, off the Atlantic coast of Spain. The
day had been stormy, but the wind was going down with the sun,
and had moderated to a "to'gallant breeze "-that is, a wind which
will allow a vessel to spread the larger part of her sails. The'sea
was still rough, however, and heavy gloomy-looking clouds crouched
upon the horizon, making the prospect for the night rather dismal.
Suddenly the clouds lifted for a moment offto the westward, right
in the direction of the setting sun, and formed an arch of glowing
fire, whose light lit up the turbulent sea. At this moment a ship,

with sails set, came out of the gloom from the right, sailed majestic-
ally across the glowing arch, and disappeared in the gloom beyond.
I saw another ship in the sun, in the Mediterranean Sea, on a
clear beautiful e"t; i- hen water and sky were placid and lovely.
A ship crossed r.. of the sun just as it swas sinking, and
it was a beautiful sight. But it was not so impressive as the ship
in the sun which we saw while on the Atlantic. F. H. N.

ELGIN, December 3, 1883.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I thought I would write and tell you about
*our Mother Hubbard party.
My cousin from Texas is visiting me, and we thought it would be
new and odd to have a Mother Hubbard party. So the invitations
were given out, to be accepted only on condition that all of the
young ladies wear Mother Hubbards of some kind. When the
evening came, it was a very pretty sight to see all the quaintly
attired little ladies, with their hair done in high puffs, and powdered,
and with dainty little reticules hanging on their arms.
The evening was pleasantly spent in games, dancing, music, and
recitations from several of the number. I thought, perhaps, that
some of your young readers might like the idea, and hoping they
may derive as much pleasure from it as I have,
I am, yours truly, M. W.

MARIPOSA, September 16, 1883.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I wish very much to tell you how much
pleasure your magazine has given me.
I am fourteen years old, and live way up in the Sierra Nevada
mountains, in a pretty village called Mariposa. It is very warm
here in summer, but a few miles further up it is cool.
Mr. Freemont published maps, with Mariposa marked as a city,
and Mariposa Creek a large river, with steam-boats on it, while it is
not deep enough for even a small boat.
I have taken ST. NICHOLAS for five or six years; at first, my sister
read it aloud for me, because I could not read myself. Six girls, in-
cluding myself, have a club called the Mariposa Sun-bonnets: we
meet every Sunday at 5 P. rM. and read a little paper, for which
each of us writes something.
Another little girl and myself tried writing stories; she wrote fif-
teen, I, seventy-nine pages.
I wish I could write as nice stories as those that are in ST. NICH-
OLAS. But I don't suppose I ever shall. Yours truly,
SEC. OF THE M. S. B.'s.

J. C.-The line you mention, The conscious water saw its God
and blushed," was written by Richard Crashaw, an English poet
who lived during the first half of the seventeenth century.

ELLEN CHASE.-We are inclined to adopt your suggestion as to
the drawings. Please send address.

R. H. -Authorities differ as to the measurements of the tower
of Pisa. Appleton's Encyclopedia gives the height 179 feet, and
the diameter 50 feet. Lippincott's Gazetteer gives the height 178
feet, and the diameter 50 feet. The English Popular Encyclopedia
says the height is 179 feet, with a deviation of 13 feet from the per-
pendicular. It also gives the number of steps as 294, and the num-
ber of bells as 7. In Scribner's Monthly for August, 1874, may be
found an article by Mr. W. H. Goodyear on the leaning tower,
which gives the height as 151 feet.

HARTFORD, CT.. December 3, 1883.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have taken the book (I call it a book, be-
cause I like that name better than magazine) ever since it was first
published, and I like it better and better every year. I used to read
the stories first, but now I turn to "Jack" first thing, and I miss him
very much in this December number. I am afraid he will not have
a Merry Christmas, because he did not have his customary talk with
us. I wish him one with all my heart, and you too. You do not
know how much good you do me. I can get materials for compo-
sitions, little plays, fun, employment, work when I want it, and
countless other things.
I have a little black kitten, and my sister and I have taught it a




few tricks. When she was a little mite of a thing, whenever she was
hungry and it was not convenient to give her milk, we put her in a
paper bag containing crackers, and as soon as she got one we took
her out of the bag. She soon learned, so that she will go into any
bag she sees, and she looks real cunning. But we have to look out
for her. She will jump over anything we hold out, even if it is real
high; and if we leave a door unlatched, she will scratch it open.
She will jump on the sink and drink water from the faucet, and when
she has had enough she will play with the stream, and not mind the
wetting a bit. She loves us all, and we all love her. I have lots of
things to say, and could write ever so much more. You know I
have known you all your life, so to speak; but I must not take up
any more of your time. Wishing you a very happy New Year, I
am, yours truly, JESSIE I. N.

December 2, 1883.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have never written to you before, though
you have been given to me by a kind lady for eight years. A few
years ago there was a very interesting article, in one of the numbers,
about the giant torpedoes which can blow up ships, and it told where
some of them were stationed. I remembered it, and this spring,
when on one of the Fall River boats, I looked out for the place, and
there it was just as the story said; the words "Torpedoes! don't
anchor !! in great letters, and very few ships near the place. Can
you tell me what kind of noises beavers make, or whether they make
any at all? In a book my motht .. person was said to
go around making "queer little'-.. I I. ," and my mother
did not know what they were. I belong to an Agassiz chapter, and
my brothers to two, and I was very glad to see that a notice of our
chapter, No. 513, was put in one of the numbers of ST. NICHOLAS.
Captain Reid's Land of Fire" looks very nice; I should think all
the boys would like it. I was so sorry to hear of the author's death.
I would be exceedingly obliged if you would answer my question.
Your very much interested friend, RUTH E.
We prefer to let some of our boys and girls answer the question-
which is a very good natural history problem. Who can accurately
describe for us the "kind of noise that beavers make ? Perhaps it
is somewhat like the "queer, solemn, little under-ground, chuckling
noise" mentioned by M: B. on the preceding page.

ALEIH, MT. LEBANON, August 31.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl who was born on Mt.
Lebanon. My home has always been in Syria. I like natural
history very much. A while ago I found some large worms on our
grape-vines; one was green, and the others were brown. The green
one soon turned brown, showing itself to be the same kind as the
others. I put them in an empty flower-pot until they made their

chrysalids, and now one has come out a pretty moth. It is light
brown, shading into darker stripes of brown. I like ST. NICHOLAS
very, very much. I read it over and over again.

Lila Ashton, Lucia T. Henderson, H. P. Holt, Dean S. Meacham;
H. A. L., Blanche Vars, Kittle Livermore, Cora C. Parramore, M.
H., J. Trix, May Hickerson, Henrietta M. G., Fannie D. Hewett,
Clinton Franklin, Eddie N. Burdick, Yankee Boy, Constant Reader
(Chicago), Angie W. Myers, Lillie S. Smith, Howard Newman,
Margaret J. Wright, A. W. H., A. S., Betty Harrison, Mildred
Harrison, Sarah Banks, Helen W. Soule, Mary A. Frick, Phil
Mighels, Emidy," and scores of others: We wish we could print
every one of your nice letters, dear friends, but for that a Letter-box
of a dozen pages would be required. And we must be content with
thanking you one and all for the interesting things you tell us and
for your hearty words about ST. NICHOLAS." We are more than
glad if, in so many ways, the magazine aids so many earnest girls
and boys.


"A Little Girl Among the Old Masters." With introduction and
comment by W. D. Howells. Boston: James R. Osgood & Co.
"True Tales for My Grandsons." By Sir Samuel W. Baker.
London: Macmillan & Co.
"Firelight Stories." By Louise Chandler Moulton. (Illustrated.)
Boston : Roberts Brothers.
"A Round Dozen." By Susan Coolidge. Boston: Roberts
Queen Victoria." Her Girlhood and Womanhood. (Exemplary
Women Series.) By Grace Greenwood. (Illustrated.) New York :
Anderson & Allen.
"Donald and Dorothy." By Mary Mapes Dodge. Author of
"Hans Brinker." Boston: Roberts Brothers.
"The Queens of England." (Young Folk's History.) Abridged,
adapted, and continued from Strickland's "Queens of England." By
Rosalie Kaufman. (Illustrated.) Boston: Estes & Lauriat.
History of the Civil War." (Young Folk's History.) By Mrs.
C. Emma Cheney. (Illustrated.) Boston: Estes & Lauriat.
"Rosy." By Mrs. Molesworth. Illustrated by Walter Crane.
London: Macmillan & Co.


NUMA POMPILIUS-but what a way to introduce a little February
talk about the prospects of our A. A. The only possible excuse is
that there is a rumor to the effect that that gentleman was the first to
introduce into the calendar this month, with its uncertain last day,
and its more uncertain weather.
We feel sure that our friends will be particularly interested this
month in two things : Dr. Warren's most generous proposition;
and the suggestion of the Nashua Chapter for a general A. A. meet-
ing next summer.
Several new chapters are organizing, and two have been admitted:

No. Name. iMembers. Address.
548 Cranford, N. J. (A) ...... 6.. Miss Lottie Watson.
549 Linlithgow, Scotland (A)..6..Wm. Wardrop, Gowan Cottage.
Our classes in botany and entomology have been pleasantly con-
cluded; and we now have the pleasure of opening to our members a
class in practical physiology.
Airms:-The study of anatomy, physiology, and hygiene, for the
purpose of preventing or alleviating suffering and sickness.
In 1864 a society was organized at Berne, Switzerland, for the pur-
pose of alleviating suffering in war. Branches have since been or-
ganized in most civilized countries, and the scope of the work has
been broadened so as to include civil and domestic suffering, the re-
sult of '- r -t;l-"-- fiimin flood, fire, and the like. In honor to
Berne, t. i... 1. .. as the i i ..
by a curious coincidence, though for a ..i-' ... '
the badge of the A. A.

Realizing the fact that It is better to keep well than to mend,"
the Red Cross has endeavored in health to prepare for sickness
and suffering. For this purpose, lectures and classes have been held
in several cities to instruct those interested, in the care of the sick and
in giving "first aid to the injured."
It has been thought that members of the Agassiz Association
might be interested in this work, and might be pleased to apply their
knowledge of Natural History to some practical- advantage, and to
all such we open the Red Cross Class."
Before efficient aid can be given in sickness, the human body must
be studied in its normal condition of health. This study must in-
clude the construction and forms of the parts ofthe body as individ-
ual organs, and as component parts of a complicate organism. This is
called anatomy. The study must also include the functions of the
various organs; or physiology. Mivart's Lessons in Elementary
Anatomy and Huxley's Elementary Lessons in Physiology will be
found useful as books of reference.
The course is to extend through six months, and all who complete it
successfully shall receive a certificate. To those furnishing satis-
factory evidence of ability to put into practice the instructions given
for First aid in cases of accident or emergency," a certificate shall
be given to that effect.
Each member of the class will be expected to write a short paper
on the topic assigned each month. Knowledge is to be obtained by
observation and study of animals and plants as individuals and in re-
lation to man, and from books. Most physicians will be glad to give
information when asked, and some chapters might with advantage
request a physician to give them a series of lectures on anatomy
and physiology and emergencies.
A manual will be prepared each month containing an outline of the
work for the month; and comments will be added when necessary,
together with instructions for the practical application of the facts
The instruction and the six manuals are free to all. The subject



for this month is "THE SKELETON: Bones, joints; comparison be-
tween those of lower animals and man. Practical afflication.
Fractures, dislocations, and sprains. First treatment. After
Charles Everett Warren, M. D., 51 Union Park, Boston, has very
Generously volunteered to conduct this class, and to him all who de-
sire to follow the course, entire or in part, should send at once their
names and addresses, and a postage stamp for the first manual.
NASHUA, N. H., Nov. 29, 1883.
DEAR MR. BALLARD: We wish very much to have a general
meeting of the A. A. held in Nashua.
We are making arrangements now, and think we can carry it
through. FRED. W. GREELEY,
Secretary Chapter 2r.
[We wish the Nashua Chapter all success in its generous and
wide-awake plan.1
English and French flint for a meadow-lark's egg.-H. W. West-
wood, 319 Market street, Trenton, N. J.
Manganese (fine).-Caroline S. Roberts, Sec. 522, Sharon, Conn.
Birds' eggs.-R. W. Ford, Plymouth, Conn.
Shells and minerals for insects. Write first.-E. L. Stephan,
Pine City, Minn.
Correspon dence. -Willie H. Black, 30O S. Broadway, St. Louis, Mo.
Fossils for minerals and birds' eggs, blown through one hole.
Correspondence.-F. H. Wentworth, 153 25th street, Chicago, Ill.
Cocoons of Cecropia and Polyphemus for cocoons of Luna or
other moths. Moths also for exchange.-Fred. Corregan, 47 E. 7th
street, Oswego, N. Y.
Canadian eggs, shells, insects, minerals, and flowers. Chapter
395.-W. D. Shaw, sec., 34 St. Peter street, Montreal, Can.
1000 cocoons of Prometheus, Cecropia and Polyphemus and spread
Promethea moths, for others.-Chas. A. Wiley, 862 Cass avenue, De-
troit, Mich.
Sea curiosities, coquina stone, star-fishes, and minerals for other
minerals and fossils. Garnet geode and trilobite particularly de-
sired.- Ellen C. Wood, 49 School lane. Germantown, Phila., Pa.
Eighty-five varieties of Colorado minerals for bird-skins, good eggs
in sets, or insects.-A. W. Anthony, 827 California st., Denver, Col.
Red sea beans, two horned beetles, two June bugs, a mocking-
bird's egg and nest, and two alligators just from the egg.- Kitty C.
Roberts, Blackwater, Fla,

57. Spiders were at one time classified as insects, and are still so
called in common parlance. Now, however, they are separated
from insects, and th. classification is as follows :
(A rticzldaes: aHaving the body and members articulated. No
internal skeleton.)
Insects.-Head, body, and abdomen distinct; legs, 6; eyes, 2.
Spiders.- Head and body (thorax) inseparable, but distinct from
abdomen; legs, 8; eyes minute, 6-8.
Myriapods.--Very manyfeet, 20o-6, worm-like.
Crustaceans.- Body covered with a crustaceous shell, like crabs,
etc. ; eyes, 2.
Worms.-Earth-worm, Leech, etc. No feet.
The following are the best spider books:
x. J. H. Emmerton, Structure and Habits of Spiders. Only sepa-
rate book on spiders.
2. Article on Arachnida in ninth edition Encyclopedia Britannica.
This article with the book above is sufficient to start a person in
the science.
3. A great many old works on entomology (Kirby & Spence, etc.),
when spiders were still classed with insects, contain remarks
upon them.
4. Hentz, N. M.-Spiders of the United States.
5. Republication of the above by J. H. Emmerton, 1875, in publi-
cations of Boston Society of Natural History.
6. Spiders of New England, by J. H. Emmerton. Just published.
7. Many other isolated publications in reports on entomology and
agriculture, as well as on surveys of parts of U. S., contain isolated
statements on the subject.
i, 2, and 5 are sufficient for all ordinary purposes.
Dr. Aug. F. Forrste, Dayton, Ohio.
58-40.-The name of the black frog-hoppers mentioned in Note
40 is Ledra u/fa.-E. L. Stephan.
59. Sleep ofPlants.-Plants l..i ..,: i..i .i i.,
or they die. They can not slee, .11 'i .... .-
win found that a plant that he watched could not sleep for two
nights after being violently shaken.- Chz. Iog, WVas/ington.
60. Rhinoceros.-The rhinoceros has an arrangement to deaden
the concussion when his horn strikes a solid body.- Ct. ezo.
61.. .... -.-. -Ch. zog.
62. 0. ... I bundant element except oxygen; 73%
of the ash of wheat straw is silicon.- Ch. tog.
S63. Ants.--We have noticed that ants are very careful to bring
insects into their holes head first.- Fairfield, Iowa.

64. Blue Bird.- I saw a blue bird feeding its little one which had
been caught and put in a cage with a canary. The mother bird
comes every morning, lights on the cage, and feeds her little bird
through the wires.-Carrie Lamson, Fairfield, Iowa.


472. Hazleton, Pa.- We have a paper every other week, called
the A. Informer.-Th. F. McNair, Sec.
237. Plantsville, Conn., A.-We have taken the first premium at
our town fair for our collection of eggs. We have sta-f'rl lir.--
Our membership has increased from six to twelve.- ,..-..
Walkley, Sec.
3. Frankford, Pa., A., was the third chapter of the A. A. to organ-
ize, and is still one of the most vigorous of all, having 69 members,
.-..3 .-; r-cently taken the lead in organizing a union of all the
r i-..i .i i-.. chapters By a long-continued error it has been ad-
.I !. no, instead of No. 3.-R. T. Taylor, Sec.
448. Washington, D. C., G.-We have had threeinteresting wards
-a pair of cat-birds, rescued from a bird's-nester, and aCuban fire-fly
ove" an inch long, with two "lights" back of his eyes. Two new
members.--Isabella F. MacFarland, Sec.
388. Beverly, N. J.-We hope to prosper even more this year
than last, although it would seem almost impossible to do that. We
have learned a great deal from the essays which have been brought
in, and which I have copied into blank-books. We sent to L. L.
Lewis, of Copenhagen, N. Y., for a small cabinet, and were so much
pleased with it that we sent for a large one, with which we are de-
It was remarkable to see how fast we raised the money for that cabi-
net. We held a fair. The father of one of our members owned a vacant
house, in a good part of the town, which he kindly let us have. We
used the two back rooms and the shed. We held our fair one after-
noon, and evening, and we cleared over thirty-five dollars. I wish to
say in behalf of the girls of our Chapter that they must be a very
different kind of girls from those in the chapter where they "sit
around the room as silent as Egyptian mummies." Our girls have
learned how to talk, and are not afraid to show it.- Alice T. Car-
penter, Sec.
Spearfsh, Dakota. -I will write something about our flood. t rained
for one day steadily, and then the time began. The Spearfish river
has a fall of So feet to the mile, and it rose 8 feet. Oh, it was
grand! Great waves, in feet high, would come right on top of one
another, and make me frightened. But I soon grew accustomed to
it, and sat for hours at a time watching it. It sounded like a thou-
sand trains of cars all going at once. A person speaking in common
tones could not be heard. We had to shout, and then it was hard to
understand what was said.-Jeannie Cowgill.
364. Brooklyn, D.- Two new members. Our cabinet now contains
over. ioo minerals arranged in order, labeled, and catalogued.-
Ralph H. Pomeroy, Sec.
R70. North Brookfield, Mass.-I am happy t 1. .
lecting is not so popular among us as formerly. i .. I
discussedin our meetings. I have seen times in '.. ... ....
seemed as if I must take just one of some rare: i ,., I l .1. i
one from an overthrown and deserted nest of a Wilson's thrush, and
that without breaking the law.- Henry A. Cooke.
132. Bufialo, B.--We form the Archaeological and Geological
ranch of the Buffalo Society of Natural Science, using their rooms
for our meetings. We have no fees or dues. We elect our members
in secret session, and two negative ballots reject a candidate. All
members of the A. A. are cordially invited to our meetings, which
are held Mondays at 7.30 P. M., in the library of the Natural Sci-
ence Society, in the Young Men's Association rooms, corner Eagle
and Main streets.-A. L. Benedict, Sec.
451. Sydny M ines, Cape Breion Island.-We have a new mem-
her, and have made special study of botany-and entomology.- M.
S. Brown, Sec.
493. Buffhlo, F.- We still have the privilege of meeting at the
State Normal School. We have joined the other Chapters here in
a union meeting held once each month. These meetings are of
great interest.-Miss Lizzie Schugens, Sec.
December 8, 1883.
168. Buffalo, C.-We have now fifteen members; we began with
five. We are going to try to have an entertainment to raise money
for a microscope.-Claire Shuttleworth, Sec.
264. Gainesville, Florida.-We have obtained several specimens
of our beautiful Florida birds. Some of us have made woods a spe-
cialty. One has a fine little collection of snails from the west and
south, and the last section has undertaken the study of geology and
ethnology. We are made up of young and old members, from forty
down to eight years of age, and among all the interest is equal. If
we can in any way assist any of our sister Chapters, we shall be de-
lighted to do so.-Paul E. Rollins, Sec.
But the editorial shears are opening, and we regretfully push
back into our crowded pigeon-holes enough equally interesting
letters to fill many pages of ST. NICHOLAS.
Address all communications to the President,
Principal of Lenox Academy, Lenox, Berkshire Co., Mass.





E MA jf 1D R E WA R D S

r TO OT -el P S TORE




A 1'-f 1 P Vn1 1 ft~"

IN each of the nine horizontal lines of letters are concealed one or
more words. By selecting the right word from each line, a quotation
from Hamlet" may be formed.
What Shakespearean actor does the rebus on the snow-shovel
represent? G. F.

A USEFUL article I'm thought,
But full of airs and graces;
With ivory I am oft inwrought,
And yet I wear two faces.
I 'm an abbreviation
Of a goodly name,
Borne by saint and sinner, haply
You may bear the same.

Born of dreams and fears and darkness,
Dreadful forms I wear;
Seek to touch me and I quickly
Vanish into air.

E, ACH of the words described con-
S' tains four letters. The zigzag, begin-
~ "1{" ning at the upper left-hand corner,
'wil spell the name of an illustrious
S personage.
S6. I. Merchandise. 2. Station. 3. Dis-
S// guise. 4. A whip. 5. To whirl. 6.
Compact. 7. Redness. 8. To rouse.
I' '7 9. A blemish. to. A tribe. DYCIE.


Sto i, asnare; from 2 to 5, surrounded;
from 5 to 2, trim or neat; from 3 to 5,
Splunder; from 5 to 3, an instrument;
from 4 to 5, to superintend the publi-
cation of; from 5 to 4, the alternate
rising and falling of water.
II. From i to 5, to encounter; from
5 to i, to be full to overflowing; from
2 to 5, a place of traffic; from 5 to 2, a coal wagon used in
some parts of England; from 3 to 5, to sound, as a horn; from
to 3, to sound, as a horn; from 4 to 5, to send forth; from 5
* 4, duration. "EDABAGHA."
1 2 3 4

5 .6 7 8
9 10 31 12
13 14 15 i6
FROM 5 to 8, a celebrated mountain of Greece; from 9 to
2, a river of Italy; from 13 to 16, a cornucopia. The letters
presented by the figures from i to 4, from i to t3, and from
6 to 4 each spell the name of the same famous man.

Mh first is in heaven, but not in earth,
My second, in value, but not in worth;
My third is in tempest, but not in gale,
My fourth is in mountain, but not in vale;
My fifth is in justice, but not in love,
My sixth is in falcon, but not in dove;
My seventh, in serpent, but not in rod,
My whole is the name of a Roman god.


I AM composed of fifty-two letters, and am a quotation from
"The 36-29-34 is plain as way to parish church."
"That sprightly Scot of Scots, 9-48-23-1-17-26-10, that runs o'
horseback up a hill perpendicular."
"Fair lady 28-16-5-51-35-30-4, so please you, save the thanks
this prince expects."
"The dull 91-42-24 will not mend his pace with beating."
Heaven take my soul, and 38-32-14-2-11-6-49 keep my bones "
52-15-45-40 hath, my lord, a wallet at his back, wherein he puts
alms for oblivion."
"Do you see yonder 43-7-44-50-13 that's almost in shape of a
"It is the green-ey'd 22-2-r2-27-47-33-41, which doth mock the
meat it feeds on."
"Be not too 25-8-3n-46 neither, but let your own discretion be
your tutor."
"0 fear him not; his 18-39-37-3-20 in that is out." c. s. c.




A BIRD LETTER. twenty-two yards, and leave part of the face. 8. Syncopate per-
taining to a foot, and leave a loud sound. 9. Syncopate fastens,
and leave commands. to. Syncopate a common article of food,
in leave a kind of nail. xr. Syncopate one who sleeps, and
S. one who performs. 12. Syncopate thin, and leave the cap-
S -- i f Austria as the Austrians spell it. 13. Syncopate a country
i urope, and leave to twirl. 14. Syncopate conveyances, and
S domestic animals. GEORGE S. HAYTER.

S FIND a word to replace the stars in the first line which
may be successively beheaded to complete each subsequent
'i I. We dined last Monday with a *******
S--'- Mother desired us to ***
Because she saw us so *****;
Who were the guests and who was **
-- And what they said, and wore, and *
S.--' iv"r The table's form was like a **
S-- -. And our host's name began with *.

DEAR FRIEND: Mary ran across a few orchids last June. How
we all wondered what they were. Then I borrowed them, and a
gentleman told us about them in a very interesting manner. We
have been having keen arctic weather.
Yours very truly, G. w. B.
In the foregoing letter are concealed the names of the birds shown
in the picture; but the letters forming the names of the birds must
be read backward.


THE words are all of equal length; and the syncopated letters,
read in the order here given, will spell the name of a king, the
downfall of whose empire was predicted by the prophet Daniel.
I. Syncopate measures, and leave large holes. 2. Syncopate a
vision, and leave a measure. 3. Syncopate of a very dark hue,
and leave an auction. 4. Syncopate a part of the body, and leave
an insect. 5. Syncopate pertaining to a duke and leave double. 6.
Syncopate the supposed matter above the air, and leave four-fifths
of the name of a sovereign called "the Great." 7. Syncopate

First Puzzle. Blow, bugles of battle, the marches of peace;
East, west, north, and south, let the long quarrel
Sing the song of great joy that the angels began,
Sing of glory to God and'of good will to man!
"A Christmas Carmen," by J. G. Whittier.
Second Puzzle. Zigzag, Santa Claus. Cross-words: i. Sail.
2. FAns..3. RiNd. 4. ColT. 5. ClAm. 6. ACre. 7. Last. 8.
CAke. 9. DrUm. io. SumS.
PI. Chill airs and wintry winds My ear
Has grown familiar with your song;
I hear it in the opening year,
I listen and it cheers me long.
Woods in Wizter," by H. W. Longfellow.
EASY BEHEADINGS. Initials of the beheaded words, Lowell.
Cross-words: i. s-Low. p-Ore. 3. s-Wing. 4. p-Eat. 5.
p-Lump. 6. f-Lint.

II. Onward we marched. Behind us ******
A frenzied mob, who raved and ******
As if they knew wherein we ****
The warlike troops unmoved ****
As Bonaparte his legions ***
My trusty aid-de-camp was *,
Whose home was near the *, he said. M. A. H.

IN each of the following problems a definition of the original
word follows immediately the anagram made with its letters.
i. I roast no clam; pertaining to heavenly bodies. 2. 'Tis all
bad; a singer or writer of narrative songs. 3. A car van; an
Eastern conveyance. 4. L. get a deed; commissioned. 5. A pure
one; an inhabitant of Europe. 6. Can't I fast? grotesque.
I. IN Hercules. 2. Conducted. 3. Very open and delicate
fabrics. 4. Worldly. 5. The town in Holland in which William,
Prince of Orange, was assassinated in 1584. 6. Was seated. 7.
In Hercules. "ROBIN HOOD."
My primals name an English coin; my finals form a word mean-
ing imperial. Primals and finals together name an aromatic herb.
CROSS-WORDS: I. To emit. 2. A sound reverberated. 3. A fleet
of ships. 4. Agirl's name. 5. A small ship's-boat. CYRIL DEANE.

RIMLESS WHEEL. From i to 8, Yuletide; from I to 9, Yawn;
from 2 to 9, Upon; from 3 to 9, Lawn; from 4 to 9, Ebon; from 5
to 9, Tern; from 6 to 9, Iron; from 7 to 9, Dean; from 8 to 9,
GEOGRAPHICAL HOUR-GLASS. Centrals, Afghanistan. Cross-
words: i. SouthAmpton. 2. FairField. 3. BruGgen. 4. BaHia.
5. PAn. 6. N. 7. WIs. 8. PeSth. 9. Santa F6. io. BarbAdoes.
Is. AusteNville.
CENTRAL SYNCOPATIONS. Syncopated letters, St. Nicholas.
Cross-words': i. Be-S-et. 2. De-T-er. 3. Ri-N-se. 4. Pa-I-nt.
5. Se-C-ts. 6. Ac-H-es. 7. St-O-op. 8. Pi-L-es. 9. Sp-A-in.
10. Po-S-t. CHARADE. Hour-glass.
Come, ye cold winds, at January's call,
On whistling wings, and with white flakes bestrew
The earth. The Months," by John Ruskin.
MAGIC SQUARE. Reading across: first line, 9-4-4-4; second line,
6-5-7-3; third line, 4-8-1-8; fourth line, 2-4-9-6.

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 ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE NOVEMBER NUMBER were received, before November o, from Paul Reese-Arthur Gride
-"Sisters Twain "-F. and H. Davis-P. S. Clarkson- S. R. T.-Jenny Brooks-Alex. H. Laidlaw-Harry M. Wheelock-"A. P.
Owder, Jr."-S. I. Hall and Dora Wendel-Gertie and Lou-Saidie and Mai -Jessie A. Platt -Maggie T. Turrill-" Uncle Dick,
Aunt Julia, and Windsor "-The Stewart Browns- C. L. M.-"Walnut"-Arian Arnold-Professor Shrewsbury- Gracie and Bessie
Greene- Fred Thwaits--" Partners"-" Pa, Ma, and I"- Mamie Hitchcock -Walter Angell--Jennie K.-' Two Subscribers"-
"Dude"-C. S. C.-Hugh and Cis- Charles H. Kyte -Madeleine Vultee Pinnie and Jack -Minnie B. Murray- Papa and Susie-
Francis W. Islip Clara J. Child Lily and Agnes.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE NOVEMBER NUMBER were received, before November 2o, from Frank L. Kellner, x-Jennie C.
McBride, 2-H. J. H., 2-J. Maude i .I .9-Gertrude Cosgrave, 5-G. B., Jr., i-Joseph C. Russ, Jr., 2-"Professor and Co.,"
xo-Tip, 7 Lavenia Haulenbeek and Carrie Heckman, 2-" Envelope and Stamp," 2 Wm. M. Richards, 6- Emmit and Frankie
Nicoli, I -"Per Jove," Effie K. Talboys, 6--Bucknor Van Amringe, i--Eva Cora Deemer, 3--Herbert T. B. Jacquelin, 6-
Edward J. V. Shipsey, 2- Philip Embury, Jr., 8-H. R. Dexter, o-" Kansas Boy," 2-Willie and May, --Livingston Ham, 3-
Willie Sheraton, i--John Brown, ---.'._-.-. Tassin, 9-Bess and Co., so--Paul W. England, 5-Annie Custer, 8-Helen W.
Merriam, i-Amy and Bertha, 2- f.:.... 8-Walter L. Fortescue, i-Robbie and Russell, 2-Dycie, xo-J. B. Sheffield, 4.



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