Front Cover
 The child and the year
 Davy and the goblin
 For bass-wood chaps
 Stories of art and artists - Fifteenth...
 The hare and the tortoise, II
 "O uncle Philip!"
 The postman
 His one fault
 On an ice-yacht
 Maisy's Christmas
 Mikkel, III
 Fanchon's German
 Historic girls
 Among the law-makers
 The school-master and the...
 Some wonderful elephants
 Baby Deb "P'ays" for Christmas...
 The tell-tale
 Ned's calendar
 Baby sleeps at home - A lullab...
 For very little folk: The Brownies...
 The letter-box
 Agassiz association - Forty-fifth...
 The riddle-box
 The flight of time
 Back Cover

Title: St. Nicholas
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00152
 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: VID00152
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
    The child and the year
        Page 161
    Davy and the goblin
        Page 162
        Page 163
        Page 164
        Page 165
        Page 166
        Page 167
        Page 168
        Page 169
        Page 170
    For bass-wood chaps
        Page 171 (MULTIPLE)
    Stories of art and artists - Fifteenth paper
        Page 172
        Page 173
        Page 174
        Page 175
        Page 176
    The hare and the tortoise, II
        Page 177
        Page 178
        Page 179
        Page 180
    "O uncle Philip!"
        Page 181
        Page 182
        Page 183
        Page 184
        Page 185
    The postman
        Page 186
    His one fault
        Page 187
        Page 188
        Page 189
        Page 190
        Page 191
    On an ice-yacht
        Page 192
        Page 193
        Page 194
        Page 195
    Maisy's Christmas
        Page 196
        Page 197
    Mikkel, III
        Page 198
        Page 199
        Page 200
        Page 201
        Page 202
        Page 203
    Fanchon's German
        Page 204
        Page 205
        Page 206
        Page 207
    Historic girls
        Page 208
        Page 209
        Page 210
        Page 211
        Page 212
    Among the law-makers
        Page 213
        Page 214
        Page 215
        Page 216
        Page 217
        Page 218
        Page 219
        Page 220
    The school-master and the truants
        Page 221
        Page 222
        Page 223
    Some wonderful elephants
        Page 224
        Page 225
    Baby Deb "P'ays" for Christmas goose
        Page 226
        Page 227
        Page 228
    The tell-tale
        Page 229
    Ned's calendar
        Page 230
    Baby sleeps at home - A lullaby
        Page 231
    For very little folk: The Brownies helping Jack Frost
        Page 232
        Page 233
        Page 234
        Page 235
    The letter-box
        Page 236
    Agassiz association - Forty-fifth report
        Page 237
    The riddle-box
        Page 238
        Page 239
    The flight of time
        Page 240
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text

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VOL. XII. JANUARY, 1885. No. 3.

[Copyright, 1884, by THE CENTURY CO.]



SAID the Child to the youthful Year:
What hast thou in store for me,
O giver of beautiful gifts, what cheer,
What joy dost thou bring with thee?"

My seasons four shall bring
Their treasures: the winter's snows,
The autumn's store, and the flowers of spring,
And the summer's perfect rose.

All these and more shall be thine,
Dear Child,-but the last and best
Thyself must earn by a strife divine,
If thou wouldst be truly blest.

Wouldst know this last, best gift?
'T is a conscience clear and bright,
A peace of mind which the soul can lift
To an infinite delight.

Truth, patience, courage, and love
If thou unto me canst bring,
I will set thee all earth's ills above,
O Child, and crown thee a King!"






CHAPTER VI. the wood. It made him a little uneasy at first to
find that the trees behind him came together again,
THE MOVING FOREST. quietly blotting out the path,-but then he
"OH, dear cried Davy, speaking aloud in his It really does n't matter so long as I don't
distress, "I do wish people and things would n't want to go back." and so he walked along very
change about so Just so soon as ever I get to a contentedly.
place, it goes away, and I'm somewhere else By and by, the path seemed to give itself a
And the little boy's heart began to beat rapidly shake, and, turning abruptly around a large tree,
as he looked about him; for the wood was very brought Davy suddenly upon a little butcher's shop,
dark and solemn and still, snugly buried in the wood. There was a sign on
Presently the trees and bushes directly before the shop, reading, ROBIN HOOD: VENISON,"
him moved silently apart and showed a broad path and Robin himself, wearing a clean white apron
beautifully overgrown with soft turf; and as he over his suit of Lincoln green, stood in the door-way,
stepped forward upon it, the trees and bushes holding a knife and steel as though he were on the
beyond moved silently aside in their turn, and lookout for customers. As he caught sight of Davy,
the path grew before him, as he walked along, he said, "Steaks? Chops?" in an inquiring way,
like a green carpet slowly unrolling itself through quite like an every-day butcher.



"Venison is deer, is n't it? said Davy, looking
up at the sign.
Not at all," said Robin Hood, promptly. It's
the cheapest meat about here."
Oh, I did n't mean that," replied Davy; I
meant that it comes off of a deer."
"Wrong again !" said Robin Hood, triumph-
antly. It comes on a deer. I cut it off myself.
Steaks ? Chops ?"
"No, I thank you," said Davy, giving up the
argument. "I don't think I want anything to eat
just now."
Then what did you come here for ? said Robin
Hood, peevishly. What 's the good, I 'd like to
know, of standing around and staring at an honest
tradesman ? "
"Well, you see," said Davy, beginning to feel
frightened, I did n't know you were this sort
of person at all. I always thought you were
an archer, like-like William Tell, you know."
That 's all a mistake about Tell," said Robin
Hood, contemptuously. "He was n't an archer.
He was a cross-bow man,-the crossest one that
ever lived. By the way, you don't happen to want
any steaks or chops to-day, do you?"
No, not to-day, thank you," said Davy, very
To-morrow?" inquired Robin Hood.
No, I thank you," said Davy again.
"Will you want any yesterday?" inquired
Robin Hood, rather doubtfully.
I think not," said Davy, beginning to laugh.
Robin Hood stared at him for a moment with a
puzzled expression, and then walked into his little
shop and Davy turned away. As he did so, the
path behind him began to unfold itself through the
wood, and looking back over his shoulder, he saw
the little shop swallowed up by the trees and bushes.
Just as it disappeared from view, he caught a
glimpse of a charming little girl peeping out of a
latticed window beside the door. She wore a little
red hood and looked wistfully after Davy as the
shop went out of sight.
I verily believe that was Little Red Riding
Hood," said Davy to himself, and I never knew
before that Robin Hood was her father! The
thought of Red Riding Hood, however, brought the
wolf to Davy's mind, and he began to anxiously
watch the thickets on either side of the path, and
even went so far as to whistle softly to himself, by
way of showing that he was n't in the least afraid.
He went on and on, hoping the forest would soon
come to an end, until the path shook itself, again
disclosing to view a trim little brick shop in the
densest part of the thicket. It had a neat little
green door, with a bright brass knocker upon it,
and a sign above it, bearing the words,


"Well! exclaimed Davy in amazement. Of
all places to sell watches in, that's the prepos-
terest But as he turned to walk away, he found
the trees and bushes for the first time blocking his
way, and refusing to move aside. This distressed
him very much, until it suddenly occurred to him
that this must mean that he was to go into the
shop; and after a moment's hesitation he went up
and knocked timidly at the door with the bright
brass knocker. There was no response to the
knock, and Davy cautiously pushed open the door
and went in.
The place was so dark that at first he could
see nothing, although he heard a rattling sound
coming from the back part of the shop, but pres-
ently he discovered the figure of an old man,
busily mixing something in a large iron pot. As
Davy approached him, he saw that the pot was
full of watches, which the old man was stirring
about with a ladle. The old creature was very
curiously dressed in a suit of rusty green velvet,
with little silver buttons sewed over it, and he wore
a pair of enormous yellow-leather boots; and
Davy was quite alarmed at seeing that a broad
leather belt about his waist was stuck full of old-
fashioned knives and pistols. Davy was about to
retreat quickly from the shop, when the old man
looked up and said, in a peevish voice:
How many watches do you want? and Davy
saw that he was a very shocking-looking person,
with wild, staring eyes, and with a skin as dark as
mahogany, as if he had been soaked in some-
thing for ever so long.
"How many?" repeated the old man impa-
If you please," said Davy, I don't think I 'll
take any watches to-day. I'll call-- "
"Drat 'em !" interrupted the old man, angrily
beating the watches with his ladle, "I 'l1 never
get rid of 'em- never "
"It seems to me began Davy, soothingly.
Of course it does !" again interrupted the old
man as crossly as before. "Of course it does!
That's because you wont listen to the why of it."
But I will listen," said Davy.
"Then sit down on the floor and hold up your
ears," said the old man.
Davy did as he was told to do, so far as sitting
down on the floor was concerned, and the old man
pulled a paper out of one of his boots, and glaring
at Davy over the top of it, said angrily:
"You're a pretty spectacle! I 'm another.
What does that make ?"
"A pair of spectacles, I suppose," said Davy.
"Right!" said the old man. Here they are."



. .. I

-$-- ..

Mr.JSHS' 5, Sd-


- --.. .


And pulling an enormous pair of spectacles out of
the other boot he put them on, and began reading
aloud from his paper:

'My recollectest thoughts are those
Which I remember yet;
And bearing on, as you 'd suppose,
The things I don't forget.

"' But my resembles .-'..:,. .- are less
Alike than they should be;
A state of things, as you '1 confess,
You very seldom see.'"

"Clever, isn't it?" said the old man, peeping
proudly over the top of the paper.
Yes, I think it is," said Davy, rather doubt-
"Now comes the cream of the whole thing,"
said the old man. "Just listen to this :

And yet the mostest thought I love
Is what no one believes -'"

Here the old man hastily crammed the paper
into his boot again, and stared solemnly at Davy.

"What is it ?" said Davy, after waiting a mo-
ment for him to complete the verse. The old
man glanced suspiciously about the shop, and
then added, in a hoarse whisper:

That I'm the sole survivor of
The famous Forty Thieves!'"

But I thought the Forty Thieves were all boiled
to death," said Davy.
All but me," said the old man, decidedly. I
was in the last jar, and when they came to me the
oil was off the boil, or the boil was off the oil,-- I
forget which it was,- but it ruined my digestion
and made me look like a ginger-bread man. What
larks we used to have he continued, rocking him-
self back and forth and chuckling hoarsely. Oh!
we were a precious lot, we were I 'm Sham-Sham,
you know. Then there was Anamanamona Mike
-he was an Irishman from Hullaboo -and Bar-
celona Boner he was a Spanish chap, and boned
everything he could lay his hands on. Strike's real
name was Gobang; but we called him Strike, because
he was always asking for more pay. Hare Ware
was a poacher, and used to catch Welsh rabbits
in a trap; we called him "Hardware" because


he had so much steal about him. Good joke,
was n't it ? "
Oh, very! said Davy, laughing.
Frown Whack was a scowling fellow with a
club," continued Sham-Sham. My! how he
could hit! And Harico and Barico were a couple
of bad Society Islanders. Then there was Wee
Wo; he was a little Chinese chap, and we used
to send him down the chimneys to open front
doors for us. He used to say that sooted him to
perfection. Wac --"
At this moment an extraordinary commotion be-
gan among the watches. There was no doubt about
it, the pot was boiling. And Sham-Sham, angrily
crying out Don't tell me a watched pot never
boils! sprang to his feet, and pulling a pair of
pistols from his belt, began firing at the watches,
which were now bubbling over the side of the pot

he did not hesitate, but ran along the passage at
the top of his speed.
Presently he came in sight of a figure hurrying
toward him with a lighted candle, and as it ap-
proached he was perfectly astounded to see that
it was Sham-Sham himself, dressed up in a neat
calico frock and a dimity apron like a housekeeper,
and with a bunch of keys hanging at his girdle.
The old man seemed to be greatly agitated, and
hurriedly whispering, "We thought you were
never coming, sir led the way through the pas-
sage in great haste. Davy noticed that they
were now in a sort of tunnel made of fine grass.
The grass had a delightful fragrance, like new-
mown hay, and was neatly wound around the
tunnel like the inside of a bird's nest. The next
moment they came out into an open space in
the forest, where, to Davy's amazement, the

S.-- _

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and rolling about the floor; while Davy, who had
had quite enough of Sham-Sham by this time, ran
out of the door.
To his great surprise, he found himself in a sort
of under-ground passage lighted by grated openings
overhead; but as he could still hear Sham-Sham,
who now seemed to be firing all his pistols at once,

Cockalorum was sitting bolt upright in an arm-
chair, with its head wrapped up in flannel.
It seemed to be night, but the place was Ihletl:
up by a large chandelier that hung from the
branches of a tree, and Davy saw that a number
of odd-looking birds were roosting on the chande-
lier among the lights, gazing down upon the poor


_~__ _._~.__._..~_~..~__I-_~-.I-_.._._~-.~.~1

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Cockalorum with a melancholy interest. As Sham-
Sham made his appearance with Davy at his heels,
there was a sudden commotion among the birds,
and they all cried out together, Here 's the doc-
tor Before Davy could reply, the Hole-keeper


suddenly made his appearance with his great book,
and hurriedly turning over the leaves, said, pointing
to Davy, "He is n't a doctor. His name is Gloo-
pitch." At these words, there arose a long, wail-
ing cry, the lights disappeared, and Davy found
himself on a broad path in the forest with the
Hole-keeper walking quietly beside him.



You had no right to tell those birds my name
was Gloopitch! said Davy, angrily. That's the
second time you've got it wrong."
'" Well, it's of no consequence," said the Hole-
keeper, complacently. I '11 make it something
else the next time. By the way, you 're not the
postman, are you ? "
Of course I 'm not," said Davy.
"I 'm glad of that," said the Hole-keeper;

" postmen are always so dreadfully busy. Would
you mind delivering a letter for me ?" he added,
lowering his voice confidentially.
Oh, no," answered Davy, rather reluctantly;
"not if it will be in my way."
"It 's sure to be in your way
because it's so big," said the Hole-
keeper; and taking the letter out
of his pocket, he handed it to Davy.
It certainly was a very large letter,
curiously folded like a dinner-nap-
kin and sealed in a great many
places with red and white pepper-
mint drops; and Davy was much
pleased to see that it was addressed:

'Captain Robinson Crusoe,
Jeran Feranderferandamam,
SB. G.
"What does B. G. stand for?"
S said Davy.
"Baldergong's Geography, of
.. course," said the Hole-keeper.
.i\ "But why do you put that on
Sthe letter?" inquired Davy.
i "Because you can't find Jeran
Feranderperandamam anywhere
A :" else, stupid," said the Hole-keeper,
impatiently. "But I can't stop to
S argue about it now," and saying
this, he turned into a side path,
and disappeared in the wood.
As Davy walked mournfully
along, turning the big letter over
and over in his hands, and feeling
very confused by the Hole-keeper's
last remark, he presently saw, lying on the walk
before him, a small book beautifully bound in
crimson morocco, and picking it up, he saw that
it was marked on the cover:


"Perhaps this will tell me where to go," he
thought as he opened it; but it proved to be far
more confusing than the Hole-keeper himself had
been. The first page was headed "How to frill
griddlepigs"; the second page, "Two ways of
frumpling crumbles"; the third page, "The best
snub for feastie spralls "; and so on, until Davy felt
as if he were taking leave of his senses. He was
just about to throw the book-down in disgust, when
it was suddenly snatched out of his hands; and
turning hastily, he saw a savage glaring at him
from the bushes.
Now Davy knew perfectly well, as all little boys
should know, that when you meet a savage in the




woods you must get behind a tree as quickly as
possible; but he did this in such haste that he
found to his dismay that he and the savage had
chosen the same tree, and in the next instant the
savage was after him. The tree was a very large
one, and Davy in his fright went around it a num-
ber of times so rapidly that he presently caught
sight of the back of the savage, and he was sur-
prised to see that he was no bigger than a large
monkey; and moreover, that he was gorgeously
dressed in a beautiful blue coat, with brass buttons
on the tail of it, and pink striped trousers. Davy
had hardly made this discovery, when the savage
suddenly disappeared through a door in a high
paling of logs that began at the tree and extended
in a straight line far out into the forest.
It was very puzzling to Davy when it occurred
to him that, although he had been around the
tree at least a dozen times, he had never seen this
paling before. The door through which the sav-
age had disappeared also botheredhim; for, though
it was quite an ordinary-looking door, it had no
knob nor latch, nor indeed any way of being

that could possibly be imagined. There was a
little lawn laid out on which a sort of soft fur was
growing instead of grass, and here and there about
the lawn, in the place of flower-beds, little foot-
stools, neatly covered with carpet, were growing
out of the fur. The trees were simply large feather-
dusters; but they seemed, nevertheless, to be
growing in a very thriving manner. And on a
little mound at the back of the lawn, stood a small
house built entirely of big conch-shells with their
pink mouths turned outward. This gave the house
a very cheerful appearance, as if it were constantly
on a broad grin.
The savage was sitting in the shade of one of the
dusters, complacently reading the little red book;
and as Davy approached, he saw, to his aston-
ishment, that he was the Goblin dressed up like
an Ethiopian serenader.
Oh you dear, delicious old Goblin cried
Davy, in an ecstasy of joy at again finding his
traveling-companion. And were you the savage
that was chasing me just now? "
The Goblin nodded his head, and exclaiming,

opened that he
could perceive.
On one side of
it, in the pal-
ing, was a row
of bell-pulls,


and on the door
itself was a
large knocker,


After exam-
ining all these,
Davy decided





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that, as he had a letter in charge, he was more of
a postman than anything else, and he therefore
raised the knocker and rapped loudly. Immedi-
ately all the bell-pulls began flying in and out of
their own accord, with a deafening clangor of bells
behind the paling; and then the door swung slowly
back upon its hinges.
Davy walked through the door-way and found
himself in the oddest-looking little country place

" My, how you did cut and run! rolled over and
over, kicking his heels about in a delirium of
Goblin," said Davy, gravely, I think we can
have just as good a time without any such doings
as that. And now tell me what place this is."
Sindbad the Sailor's house," said the Goblin,
sitting up again.
Really and truly?" said the delighted Davy.

r i ,


"Really and really truly," said the Goblin.
"And here he comes now! "
Davy looked around and saw an old man coming

"All right," said Sindbad, "I '11 give you a
nautical one."
Here he rose for a moment, hitched up his big

'~ ''





toward them across the lawn. He was dressed in
a Turkish costume, and wore a large turban and
red morocco slippers turned up at the toes like
skates; and his white beard was so long that at
every fourth step he trod upon it, and fell forward
to the ground. He took no notice whatever of
either Davy or the Goblin, and after falling down a
number of times, took his seat upon one of the
little carpet foot-stools. Taking off his turban,
he began :.irrin i about in it with a large wooden
spoon. As he took off his turban, Davy saw that
his head, which was perfectly bald, was neatly laid
out in black and white squares like a chess-board.
He 's the most absent-minded story-teller that
ever was born," said the Goblin, pointing with his
thumb over his shoulder at Sindbad.
As Davy and the Goblin sat down beside him,
Sindbad hastily put on his turban, and after scowl-
ing at Davy for a moment, said to the Goblin,
" It's no use telling him anything; he's as deaf
as a trunk."
Then tell it to me," said the Goblin, with great
presence of mind.

trousers like a sailor, cocked his turban on one
side of his head, and sitting down again, began:

"A capital ship for an ocean trip,
Was 'The Walloping Window-blind';
No gale that blew dismayed her crew
Or troubled the captain's mind.
The man at the wheel was taught to feel
Contempt for the wildest blow,
And it often appeared, when the weather had
That he 'd been in his bunk below.

" The boatswain's mate was very sedate,
Yet fond of amusement, too;
And he played hop-scotch with the starboard
While the captain tickled the crew.
And the gunner we had was o -... mad,
For he sat on the after-rail,
And fired salutes with the captain's boots,,
In the teeth of the booming gale.


: : I


- __ -.


"The captain sat in a commodore's hat
And dined in a royal way
On toasted pigs and pickles and figs
And gummery bread each day.
But the cook was Dutch and behaved as such;
For the diet he gave the crew
Was a number of tons of hot-cross buns
Prepared with sugar and glue.

"All nautical pride we laid aside,
And we cast the vessel ashore
On the Gulliby Isles, where the Poohpooh smiles,
And the Rumbletumbunders roar.
And we sat on the edge of a sandy ledge
And shot at the whistling bee;
And the cinnamoni-bats wore water-proof hats
As they danced in the sounding sea.

"On rubgub bark, from dawn to dark,
We fed, till we all had grown
Uncommonly shrunk,-when a Chinese junk
Came by from the torriby zone.
She was stubby and square, but we did n't much
And we cheerily put to sea;
And we left the crew of the junk to chew
The bark of the rubgub-tree."

Here Sindbad stopped, and gazed
solemnly at Davy and the Goblin.
"If you please, sir," said Davy,
respectfully, "what is gummery
bread ?"
It 's bread stuffed with mo-
lasses," said Sindbad; "but I
never saw it anywhere, except
aboard of 'The Prodigal Pig.' "
"But," said Davy, in great
surprise, you said the name of ..
your ship was "
So I did, and so it was," in-
terrupted Sindbad, testily. "The
name of a ship sticks to it like wax
to a,wig. You can't change it."
"Who gave it that name?"
said the Goblin. /,
What name? said Sindbad, HE GAVE
looking very much astonished.
"Why, The Cantering Soup-tureen,'" said the
Goblin, winking at Davy.
Oh, that name! said Sindbad; "that was
given to her when But speaking of soup-
tureens-let's go and have some pie ;" and rising
to his feet, he gave one hand to Davy and the
other to the Goblin, and they all walked off in a
row toward the little shell house. This, however,
proved to be a very troublesome arrangement, for

Sindbad was constantly stepping on his long beard
and falling down; and as he kept a firm hold of
his companions' hands, they all went down in a heap
together a great many times. At last Sindbad's
turban fell off, and as he sat up on the grass and
began stirring in it again with his wooden spoon,
Davy saw that it was full of broken chess-men.
It 's a great improvement, is n't it?" said
What is?" said Davy, very much puzzled.
Why, this way of playing the game," said
Sindbad, looking up at him complacently. "You
see, you make all the moves at once."
It must be a very easy way," said Davy.
It's nothing of the sort," said Sindbad, sharply.
" There are more moves in one of my games than
in twenty ordinary games ;" and here he stirred
up the chess-men furiously for a moment, and
then, triumphantly calling out "Check!" clapped
the turban on his head.
As they set out again for the little house, Davy
saw that it was slowly moving around the edge
of the lawn, as if it were on a circular railway,
and Sindbad followed it around, dragging Davy
and the Goblin with him, but never getting any
nearer to the house.
Don't you think," said Davy, after a while,

.. ?- ,



" that it would be a good plan to stand still and
wait until the house came around to us ?"
Here, drop that !" exclaimed Sindbad, excit-
edly, "that 's my idea. I was just about pro-
posing it myself."
So was I," said the Goblin to Sindbad. Just
leave my ideas alone, will you ?"
"Your ideas !" retorted Sindbad, scornfully. I
did n't know you'd brought any with you."



"I had to," replied the Goblin, with great con-
tempt, "otherwise there would n't have been any
on the premises."
"Oh! come, I say!" cried Sindbad, "that's
my sneer, you know. Don't go to putting the
point of it the wrong way."
Take it back, if it's the only one you have,"
retorted the Goblin, with another wink at Davy.

.2 >.f ..

,. ,* i ,.- .

=:\ I--

Thank you, I believe I will," replied Sindbad,
meekly; and as the little house came along just
then, they all stepped in at the door as it went by.
As they did so, to Davy's amazement Sindbad
and the Goblin quietly vanished, and Davy, in-
stead of being inside the house, found himself
standing in a dusty road, quite alone.

As DAVY stood in the road, in doubt which way
to go, a Roc came around the corner of the house.
She was a large bird, nearly six feet tall, and was
comfortably dressed in a bonnet and a plaid shawl,
and wore overshoes. About her neck was hung a
covered basket and a door-key, and Davy at once
concluded that she was Sindbad's housekeeper.
I did n't mean to keep you waiting," said the
Roc, leading the way along the road; but I de-
clare that, what with combing that lawn every
morning with a fine-tooth comb, and brushing
those shells every evening with a fine tooth-brush,
I don't get time for anything else, let alone feed-
ing the animals."
What animals?" said Davy, beginning to be
Why, his, of course," said the Roc, rattling
on in her harsh voice. "There 's an Emphasis

and two Periodicals and a Spotted Disaster, all
crawlin' and creepin' and screechin'--"
Here Davy, unable to control himself, burst into
a fit of laughter, in which the Roc joined heartily,
rolling her head from side to side and repeating
All crawlin' and creepin' and screechin' over
and over again, as if that were the cream of the
joke. Suddenly she stopped laughing and said in
a low voice, You
don't happen to
\ have a beefsteak
about you, do
Syou ?'
Davy confessed
That he had not,
and the Roc con-
-... .-. tinued, "Then I
must go back. Just
hold my basket,
like a good child."
Here there was a
scuffling sound in
S the basket and the
Roc rapped on the
coverwith her hard
-- beak and cried,
;":''' "Hush!"
"What's in it ?"
said Davy, cautiously taking the basket.
Lay-overs for meddlers," said the Roc, and
hurrying back along the road, was soon out of
I wonder what they 're like," said Davy to
himself, getting down upon his hands and knees
and listening curiously with his ear against the
cover of the basket. The scuffling sound con-
tinued, mingled with little sneezes and squeaking
sobs as if some very small kittens had bad colds
and were crying about it.
"I think I '11 take a peep," said Davy, looking
cautiously about him. There was no one in sight,
and he carefully raised the cover a little way and
tried to look in. The scuffling sound and the sobs
ceased, and the next instant the cover flew off the
basket and out poured a swarm of little brown
creatures like snuff-boxes with legs. As they
scampered off in all directions, Davy made a fran-
tic grab at one of them, when it instantly turned
over on its back and blew a puff of smoke into his
face, and he rolled over in the road almost stifled.
When he was able to sit up again and look about
him, the empty basket was lying on its side near
him, and not a lay-over was to be seen. At that
moment, the Roc came in sight, hurrying along
the road with her shawl and her bonnet-strings
fluttering behind her; and Davy, clapping the cover
on the basket, took to his heels and ran for dear life.





THE boy that likes spring or summer or fall
Better than old King Winter
Is a sort of a bass-wood splinter -
Soft stuff; in fact, he 's no boy at all.

Away from the stove, and look out there!
Did ever you see a picture so fair?
King Winter, from mountain to plain
Not a beggar in all his train.
The poky old pump,
The ugliest stump;
One is in ermine from chips to chin,
The other-no lamb can begin
To look so warm and soft and full,
Though up to its eyes in wrinkles of wool.
See old Dame Post with her night-cap on,
Madam Bush in her shawl with the white nap on!
Crabbed old Bachelor Hedge-
Where, now, is his prickly edge?
And scraggy old Gran'sir Tree,
Shabby as shabby could be,
How he spreads himself in his uniform,
Lording it over the cold and the storm!

Summer? Oh, yes, I know she will dress
Her dainty dear-dears in loveliness;
But Winter--The great and small,
Angelic and ugly, all

He tailors so fine, you would think each one
The grandest personage under the sun.

Who is afraid he '11 be bit to death
By a monster that bites with nothing but breath?
There 's more real manhood, thirty to three,
In the little chicks of a chickadee:
Never were merrier creatures than they
When summer is hundreds of miles away.
Your stay-in-doors, bass-wood splinter
Knows not the first thing about winter.
A fig for your summer boys,
They're no whit better than toys.
Give me the chap that will off to town
When the wind is driving the chimney down,
When the bare trees bend and roar
Like breakers on the shore.
Into the snow-drifts, plunged to his knees,-
Yes, in clear up to his ears, if you please,
Ruddy and ready, plucky and strong,
Pulling his little duck legs along;
The road is full, but he 's bound to go through it,
He has business on hand, and is round to do it.
As yonder you see him, breaking paths for the
So he '11 be on the lead to the end of his days:
One of Winter's own boys, a hero is he,
No bass-wood there, but good hard hickory !



BUCKLE the steel
Firm to the heel,
For a merry bout and a mazy reel;
The glassy ice
We '11 mark in a trice
With many a quaint and strange device.

Our fire burns bright,
And its ruddy light
Glows far through the starry, wintry night;
We '11 whirl and wheel
On ringing steel,
While our pulses quicken and voices peal.

With shout and song,
A joyous throng,
We 'll wake the echoes loud and long,
Till the moon's pale beam
O'er the hill-top gleam,
And warn us home to rest and dream.

Chorus.-For naught care we,
From cares set free.
Though chill blow the wind o'er the icy lea;
And in sleep we shout,
As we toss about,
That merry, merry skaters are we!






THE Spanish school of painting dates about two
hundred and fifty years later than the Italian, and
one hundred years later than the Flemish school.
Thus the Spanish school had its birth just when
the Italian school was in its best strength and
beauty, and the earliest Spanish painters profited
by the study of what had already been done in
Italy. As soon as an interest in painting.had
been awakened in Spain, the Spanish monarchs
invited Italian painters to their courts; they also
purchased splendid pictures from artists who never
went to Spain, and many of these works could be
seen and studied by Spanish painters, who thus
had some of the finest masterpieces of the world
always before their eyes.
Then, too, many Spanish students went to Italy
to study, and this constant coming of Italians and
going of Spaniards-most of whom returned to

practice in Spain the art which they had learned
far away beyond the Pyrenees and Alps-re-
suited in the foundation and establishment of the
Spanish School of Painting. The chief centers
of this school were Toledo, Seville, Valencia, and
Madrid; and after Philip II. made Madrid the
capital of Spain, its school of art increased in
importance, until, in the time of Philip IV., this
city was the metropolis of Spanish art.
Though it is not strictly a part of my subject, I
shall tell you something of the magnificent riches
of the Gallery of Madrid, which is conceded to be
the finest collection of pictures in the world. Of
foreign pictures it has forty-three by Titian,-ten
by Raphael, twenty-five by Paul Veronese, thirty-
four by Tintoretto, sixty-four by Rubens, a fine
collection by Vandyck, while of Teniers this gal-
lery has sixty finished works. Of the Spanish paint-
ers, the gallery contains sixty-five by Velasquez,
forty-six by Murillo, and fifty-eight by Ribera.

* Copyright, 1881, by Clara Erskine Clement. All rights reserved.



When one thinks of all this, it is natural to won-
der how such treasures were ever brought together
in Spain. The explanation of it is that the great
Emperor Charles V. was at the height of his
power and wealth just when the painting of Italy
had reached its best estate. He ruled over Spain,
the Netherlands, Milan, Naples, and Sicily. These
countries embraced a large part of the territory of
Europe in which art had attained perfection, and
the vast riches at his command gave him the
power to be the patron of the art of all nations.
Charles V. was the personal friend of Titian
and was the possessor of some of the most glori-
ous works of that master; he also purchased many
masterpieces of the best Flemish and Italian
painters, and thus made the beginning of the
splendid museum. To this, Philip II. and other
sovereigns added still other foreign works, while
many of the best pictures of the Spanish painters
were also placed there. The museum now con-
tains many works which were formerly distributed
in palaces and convents, and were thus almost lost
to the world, since they were only seen by the few
who were admitted to these places. Ferdinand
VII., however, removed many of those which had
adorned the palaces and placed them in the mu-
seum, and when the riches of the monasteries
were also added to it, this gallery became almost
too magnificent for description.
The religious element, as was natural in the
days when the Church was all-powerful, was most
prominent in Spanish art in the days of Charles V.
and his successors. With the exception of por-
traits, there were few pictures of importance that
had not a religious meaning.
Spanish painting reached its meridian in the
seventeenth century. The most interesting Span-
ish artists, about twelve in number, all died be-
tween the years 1586 and 1682, and after that time
no great painter arose to replace those who had
gone, or to add new luster to the Spanish school.


was one of the earliest of this twelve. He was
born in Badajoz* in 1509 and died in 1586. He
was the first Spanish painter who acquired a repu-
tation outside of his own country. His subjects
were all religious and'he was called "El Divino,"
or "the divine," on account of the devotional ele-
ment in his works. He painted on panels and
finished his pictures with great care. His works
are not numerous in Spain, and but few of them are
seen elsewhere. There are good specimens in the
Louvre, in the Dresden Gallery, and at the Her-

mitage, in St. Petersburg. He belonged to the
Castilian school and studied at Toledo.
When Morales was fifty-five years old, Philip II.
invited him to court. When he appeared before
the king, he wore so magnificent a costume that
Philip was angry, and ordered a sum of money to
be paid the artist and a dismissal to be sent him
at the same time. This was a dreadful blow to
Morales, and when he explained that he had spent
nearly all that he had in order to appear before his
sovereign in a dress which befitted the dignity of
the king, he was pardoned, and commissioned to
paint one picture. This, however, was not hung
in the Escorial, f which so mortified Morales that
he forsook his art and fell into great poverty.
In 1581, Philip visited Badajoz and saw Morales
in a very different dress from that which he had
worn at court.
Morales, you are very old," said the king.
Yes, sire, and very poor," replied the painter.
Philip then commanded that two hundred ducats
of the crown rents of Badajoz should be given each
year to the painter to supply him with dinners.
Hearing this, Morales exclaimed:
And for supper, sire ?"
This aptness so pleased the king that he added
one hundred ducats to the pension and these
sums gave Morales comfort for the rest of his days.
The street in Badajoz in which he lived still bears
his name.


also called Lo Spagnoletto, was born at Xativa
in 1588 and died in Naples in 1656. Though he
lived many years in Italy, his name and rank are
important among the painters of Spain. I told
you something of him and his life in Naples, in
the paper on Italian painters. Perhaps you will
remember the kindness of a cardinal to him when he
was a boy in Rome, and his decision that he needed
the spur of poverty to make him a good artist.
He seems, however, to have thought differently
about this in later years, for when a rich picture-
dealer in Naples offered Ribera his daughter in
marriage, the painter accepted her; but he was an
industrious artist, though he lived in princely style.
Most of Ribera's subjects were painful, and he
painted them so naturally that they are often
revolting in their representation of horrible suffer-
ing, though their great merits show him to have
been a very gifted painter. It is pleasant to add that
he sometimes painted pictures of a different sort.
One of these is in the Madrid Gallery, and repre-
sents the "Dream of Jacob." It has all the
strength of his other works, and at the same time a

t A famous Spanish palace, about twenty-four miles from Madrid, built by Philip II.

* Pronounced Bad-a-kos.


sweetness of sentiment and a tenderness in its
handling which prove that Ribera had a better
side in his nature. He has represented Jacob
stretched on an open plain, sleeping profoundly;
on one side a stream of cloudy, golden brightness
extends from earth to heaven, and in this are
angels ascending and descending.
Many portraits and other pictures by Ribera are
seen in the galleries of Europe. His Descent
from the Cross," which is considered his finest
work, is in the church of San Martino, in Naples.
Of the large number of his pictures in the Madrid
Gallery, many are single heads of saints and
apostles on small canvases.


THIS master is generally called the greatest
painter of Spain. His full name is Diego Rod-
riguez de Silva y Velasquez. He was born in
Seville in 1599,-the same year in which Vandyck
was born in Antwerp,- and he died in Madrid in
i660; thus his work belongs to the seventeenth
century. His parents were of noble blood; his
father was of the Portuguese family of De Silva,
and a lawyer in Seville; his mother, Geronima
Velasquez,--by whose name the artist is known,
according to the custom of Andalusia,-was an
accomplished woman, and devoted herself to the
education of her son. Although he had a quick
mind and could learn easily, he was so fond of
drawing that he was unwilling to study other
things, and when still very young he was placed in
the school of Herrera the Elder. This painter has
been called a clever brute," and Velasquez soon
tired of him; but, meantime, he had acquired a
free, bold style of drawing. His second master
was Francesco Pacheco, who never became great
as a painter, but was a refined and polished gen-
tleman and a writer of some reputation.
Velasquez soon discovered that no master could
make him the artist that he desired to be. He de-
termined to devote himself to the study of nature
alone; and working thus, with untiring industry,
he became one of the great masters of the world.
Until he was twenty-three years old, he devoted
himself to representing the low and common life
of the streets ; he painted what he saw just as he
saw it, in form, color, and every particular. He is
said to have kept a peasant lad as a model, and
from him he painted a variety of heads in all sorts
of positions and with every possible expression.
To this early period belong several pictures of beg-
gar boys which are well known, and the important
"Water-carrier of Seville," which is now at Apsley
House; also, the "Adoration of the Shepherds,"
which is in the National Gallery in London.

In 1622 Velasquez went to Madrid for the first
time, and there saw the pictures of the Royal
Galleries, of which he had heard much from the
visitors to the studio of Pacheco. He carried with
him letters which enabled him to see the works of
art in the capital, but he was not brought to the
notice of the king. While in Madrid he painted
the portrait of the poet Gongora, and secured the
friendship of Fonseca, who was a patron of art,
and who later interested the minister Olivarez in
the young painter of Seville. As the result of all
this, Velasquez was soon summoned to the court,
and a purse of fifty ducats was sent him to cover
the expenses of his journey.
Meantime, he had married the daughter of
Pacheco, and when he went to Madrid he was
accompanied by his wife, his father-in-law, and
his mulatto slave, Juan Pareja, who later became
an excellent painter. The first picture painted by
Velasquez, after his second arrival at Madrid, was
a portrait of Fonseca; this was shown to the king,
who was so well pleased with it that he immedi-
ately appointed the artist his court-painter, which
position Velasquez held as long as he lived.
The service of Philip IV. perfected Velasquez as
a portrait-painter. The king was never weary of
sitting for his own portrait; and those of his queen
and his children, in groups and in single pictures,
were repeated again and again. Velasquez was
always prosperous; he grew in favor with the
king, who afforded him every possible opportunity
for improvement and enjoyment. Philip made
himself his familiar friend, and was accustomed to
visit his studio with as little ceremony as one gen-
tleman uses with another who is his equal in rank.
He would permit no other artist to paint his por-
trait, and lost no opportunity to show his regard
for his favorite painter. He was in the habit also
of asking advice from Velasquez concerning the
improvement of his capital and the art-collections
which he desired to make. Velasquez was also
the favorite of the minister Olivarez, and this
proves that he must have attended strictly to such
matters as concerned himself and his art; for had
he ventured to advise the king in other directions,
the proud minister would not have been his friend.
At length, Velasquez was allowed to visit Italy.
He remained there two years and was treated with
the respect which his character and his talents
merited. After his return to Madrid, he became
more and more necessary to King Philip; he at-
tended the king upon his journeys, and was in the
most confidential relations with him. After a time
the king sent him again to Italy to purchase works
of art, and gave him full power to buy whatever
his judgment approved. As the special agent
of the Spanish monarch, and with his fame as a



painter, Velasquez became a very important per-
son, and was everywhere received with the highest
honors. Pope Innocent X. sat to him for his
portrait, as did also several cardinals and Roman
princes. He was elected a member of the Acad-
emy of St. Luke, at Rome, and formed close
friendships with many sculptors and painters.
Upon his return to Madrid, Velasquez was ap-
pointed Aposentador Mayor* of the king's house-
hold, with a salary of three thousand ducats a year.
He carried at his belt a key which opened every
lock in the palace. The duties of this office re-
quired him to superintend all the ceremonies and
festivals of the royal household; this was a heavy
tax upon his time and strength, but he also ful-
filled his part as superintendent of the Gallery of
the Escorial, arranged his Italian bronzes and
marbles in the halls of the Alcazar, attended to
bronze castings from models which he had brought
from Italy, and painted his last great picture,
known in Spain as Las Menifias," or '"The
Maids of Honor." This picture represents the
royal family, with the maids of honor, the dwarfs,
a sleeping hound, and the artist himself standing
before the easel with pencils in hand. Doubtless
the great master was very weary of repeating
again and again the faces of the king and his
children, and the idea came to him to make this
picture something more than a portrait. It gives
the whole scene precisely as it was, and is thus
historical. It represents one moment in the life
of all the notable people whom it reproduces
exactly as it was passed by them; the faces of the
king and queen are seen in a mirror, for the
special purpose of the work was thought to be the
portrait of the little Infanta, or princess, who is
stiffly placed in the center, with her little maids
around her. Another portrait by Velasquez of
this same little Infanta was copied in an engraving
which formed the frontispiece of the last number
of ST. NICHOLAS. And on page 176 of this num-
ber you will find a copy of the famous painting
called "The Maids of Honor."
Mr. John Hay, in his book called Castilian
Days, says: The longer you look upon this mar-
velous painting, the less possible does it seem that
it is merely the placing of color on canvas which
causes this perfect illusion. It does not seem pos-
sible that you are looking at a plane surface.
* There is space and light in this picture
as in any room. If art consists in making a fleet-
ing moment immortal, '* '" then it will
be hard to find a greater painting than this."
When Philip saw this picture, he said it wanted
but one thing; and he took a brush and in the most
unskillful manner painted a red cross upon the
breast of the portrait of Velasquez. Thus was the

artist made a Knight of the Order of Santiago, and
the manner in which the knighthood was conferred
was the highest compliment ever paid to a painter.
This famous picture is not beautiful. The color
is dull, its whole tone being an olive-green gray;
the persons represented are not beautiful, Velas-
quez is the only graceful figure there; but in spite
of this it has a great power, it is a picture that
one can not turn away from hastily.
The last important act in the life of Velasquez
was his superintendence of the ceremonies at the
Isle of Pheasants, when the courts of France and
Spain met there, and when Louis XIV., accom-
panied by the queen-mother of France, received
the Infanta Maria Teresa forhis wife. The splendid
ceremonies of the occasion furnished many scenes
worthy to be immortalized by the poet or artist,
but its preparation was too much for the strength
of Velasquez, who was already overworked. He
reached Madrid on the 26th of June, and died on
the 6th of August. His wife lived but eight days
longer, and was buried in the same grave with him.
The ceremonies of his funeral were magnificent,
and he was buried in the church of St. Juan, which
was destroyed by the French in 181I.
Velasquez was of a rare and admirable character;
he combined sweetness of temper, freedom from
jealousy, and power to conciliate with strength of
intellect and will and steadfastness of purpose.
He was one of nature's noblemen in the full, broad
sense of that word. Stirling, in his Artists of
Spain, says of him: "He was the friend of Ru-
bens, the most generous, and of Ribera, the most
jealous of the brethren of his craft; and he was the
friend and protector of Cano and Murillo, who,
next to himself, were the greatest painters of Spain.
The favorite of Philip IV., in fact, his minister for
artistic affairs, he filled this position with a purity
and a disinterestedness very uncommon in the
counselors of state ; and to befriend an artist less
fortunate than himself was one of the last acts of
his amiable and glorious life." When Velasquez
is simply called the greatest painter of Spain full
justice is not done him, for he was also the noblest
and most commanding man among them all.
Naturally, from his position at court, a large
proportion of his works were portraits of exalted
personages. These are in groups, single figures,
and equestrian portraits, and frequently the groups
were so arranged as to perpetuate the memory of
historical events. He also painted landscapes
which have been favorably compared with those of
Claude Lorraine; unlike Rubens, who had a cer-
tain manner in all his works, Velasquez changed
his handling to suit his subject instead of suiting
his subject to his handling. The horses that he
painted were as well done as the men who rode

* Grand Marshal of the Royal Apartments.




them; he may be compared with Teniers as a
painter of scenes from common life; "his fruit-pieces
equal those of Sanchez Cotan or Van Kessel; and
his dogs might do battle with the dogs of Snyders."
In the Gallery of Madrid there is no separate
portrait of Velasquez, though there are such at
Florence, Munich, and Paris; that in the Maids
of Honor," painted in 1656, is the latest and most
authentic one; another, painted ten years earlier,
is in the historical picture of the Surrender of
Breda," which was his greatest work of this kind.
In the center of the picture the governor of the
conquered city delivers the keys to the great Spin-
ola, while the Spanish and Flemish soldiers are on
either side. The landscape of this painting, which
is a broad scene in the Netherlands, would make
an admirable picture without any figures in it.
The pictures of Velasquez number two hundred

and nineteen; they are seen in all the important
galleries of Europe, though the finest collection is
at Madrid. His works are sold very rarely, and
when they do change owners, very large prices are
paid for them.
I can not conclude this account of this master
in more fitting words than these from Mrs.

"There is something in the history of this painter which fills the
imagination like a gorgeous romance. In the very sound of his
name -Don Diego Rodriguez Velasquez de Silva--there is some-
thing mouth-filling and magnificent. When we read of his fine
chivalrous qualities, his noble birth, his riches, his palaces, his orders
of knighthood, and what is most rare, the warm, real, steady friend-
ship of a King, and added to this a long life, crowned with genius,
felicity, and fame, it seems almost beyond the lot of humanity. I
know of nothing to be compared with it but the history of Rubens,
his friend and contemporary, whom he resembled in character and
fortune, and in that union of rare talents with practical good sense
which insures success in life."



AT Lawton, Sid had parted from his friend and
gone on alone, having laid in a store of ginger-
bread from a baker's cart, and paused to eat,
drink, and rest by a way-side brook. A few miles
farther, he passed a party of girls playing lawn-
tennis; and as he slowly rolled along, watching
them from his lofty perch, one of them suddenly
"Why, it's our neighbor, Sidney West! How
did he come here?" and waving her racquet,
Alice ran across the lawn to find out.
Very willing to stop and display his new uni-
form, which was extremely becoming, Sid dis-
mounted, doffed his helmet, and smiled upon the
damsels, leaning over the hedge like a knight of
"Come in and play a game, and have some
luncheon. You will have plenty of time, and some
of us are going to the rink by and by. Do come,
-we want a young gentleman to help us, for Mau-
rice is too lazy, and Jack has hurt his hand with
that stupid base-ball," said Alice, beckoning per-
suasively, while the other girls nodded and smiled
Thus allured, the youthful Ulysses hearkened
to the voice of the little Circe in a round hat, and
entered the enchanted grove, where he soon for-
got the passage of time. -
.While Sid was thus happily engaged, time slip-
ped away, and Hugh passed his brother in-the race,

quite unconscious that Sid was reposing in the
tent that looked so inviting as the dusty, tired
boy plodded by, counting every mile-stone with
increasing satisfaction.
"If I reach Uncle Tim's by one o'clock, I shall
have done very well," thought Hugh, with a sigh.
" Four miles an hour is a fair pace, and I 've made
only one stop. I '11 telegraph to Auntie as soon
as I arrive; but she wont worry,- she 's used to
having us turn up all right when we get ready."
The boys had no mother, and Aunt Ruth was an
easy old lady who, knowing that she could trust
the boys, let them do very much as they liked,
to their great contentment.
As he neared his journey's end, our traveler's
spirits rose, and the blisters on his heels were for-
gotten in the dramatic scene his fancy painted,
when Sid should-discover him at Uncle Tim's or
calmly seated at the rink. Whistling gayly, he
was passing along a wooded bit of road, when
the sound of voices made- him look back, to see a
carriage-load of girls approaching, escorted by a
bicycle rider whose long blue legs looked strangely
Wishing to keep his secret until the last moment,
and conscious that he was not in company trim,
Hugh dived into the wood,.keeping- out of sight
while the. gay party went by,. and returning to the
road-as soon as they were hidden by a bend.
If Sid had n't been so mean, I should have



been with him, and have had some of the fun. I
don't feel like forgiving him in a hurry for making
me foot it like a tramp, while he is having so good
a time."
If Hugh could have known what was to hap-
pen very soon after he had muttered these words
to himself, wiping his hot face and taking the
last sip of the coffee to quench his thirst, he would
have been sorry that he had uttered them, and
would have forgiven his brother everything.

this disaster. They expected their gallant escort
would spring up and laugh over this accident; but
when he remained flat upon his back, where he
had alighted after his involuntary somersault,
with the bicycle spread over him like a pall, they
were alarmed, and flew to the rescue.
A cut on his forehead was bleeding, and the
blow had evidently stunned him for a moment.
Luckily, a house was near; and a man, seeing the
accident, hastened to offer more efficient help than


While he was slowly toiling up the last long hill,
Sid was coasting down on the other side, eager to
display his courage and skill before the girls,- for
he was of an age when boys begin to wish to please
and astonish the gentler creatures whom they
have hitherto treated with indifference or con-
tempt. It was a foolish thing to do, for the road
was rough, with steep banks on either side, and a
sharp turn at the end. But Sid rolled gayly along,
with an occasional bump, till a snake ran across
the road, causing the horse to shy, the girls to
scream, the bicyclist to turn to see what was the mat-
ter, and in doing so to lose his balance just when a
large stone needed to be avoided. Over went Sid,
down rattled the wheel, up rose a cloud of dust,
and sudden silence fell upon the girls at sight of

any the girls had wit enough to give, as all four
of them only flapped their handkerchiefs wildly at
Sid, and exclaimed excitedly:
"What shall we do? Is he dead? Run for
water! Call somebody, quick!"
Don't be scar't, gals; it takes a sight o' thump-
in' to.break a boy's head. He 's not hurt much,-
only dazed for a minute. I '11 h'ist up this pesky
mashine and set him on his legs, if he has n't
damaged 'em."
With these cheering words, the farmer cleared
away the ruins and propped the fallen rider
against a tree; which treatment had so good an
effect that Sid was himself in a moment, and
much disgusted to find what a scrape he was in.
"This is nothing, a mere bump; quite right,




thanks. Let us go on at once; so sorry to have
alarmed you, young ladies -" He began his
polite speech bravely, but ended with a feeble smile
and a clutch at the tree, as he suddenly grew sick
and dizzy again.
"You come along with me," said the farmer.
"I '11 tinker you up and your whirligig, too. No
use sayin' go ahead, for the thing is damaged, and
you want to keep quiet for a spell. Drive along,
gals; I '11 see to him; and my wife can nurse
him better 'n a dozen flutterin' young things, scart
half to death."
Thus taking matters into his own hands, the
farmer had boy and bicycle under his roof in five
minutes; and with vain offers of help, many regrets,
and promises to let his Uncle Tim know where he
was in case he did not arrive, the girls reluctantly
drove away, leaving no sign of the catastrophe
except the trampled road and a dead snake.
Hardly was peace restored, when Hugh came
down the hill, little dreaming what had happened,
and for the second time passed his brother, who
just then was lying on a sofa in the farm-house,
while a kind old lady adorned his brow with a
large black plaster, and suggested brown paper
steeped in vinegar for the various bruises on his
arms and legs.
Some one killed the snake and made a great
fuss about it, I should say," thought Hugh, ob-
serving the signs of disorder in the dust; but re-
sisting a boy's interest in such affairs, he stoutly
tramped on, sniffing the whiffs of sea air that now
and then saluted him, telling him that he was
nearing his much-desired goal.
Presently the spires of the city came in sight, to
his great satisfaction, and only the long bridge
and a street or two lay between him and Uncle
Tim's easy-chair, into which he soon hoped to cast
Half-way across the bridge a farm-wagon passed,
with a bicycle laid carefully on the barrels of vege-
tables going to market. Hugh gazed affectionately
at it, longing to borrow it for one brief, delicious
spin to the end of the bridge. Had he known that
it was Sid's broken wheel, going to be repaired
without loss of time, thanks to the good farmer's
trip to town, he would have paused to have a
hearty laugh, in spite of his vow not to stop till his
journey was over.
Just as he turned into the side street where
Uncle Tim lived, a horse-car went by, in one
corner of which sat a pale youth, with a battered
hat drawn low over his eyes, who handed out his
fare with the ,left hand, and frowned when the
car jolted, as if the jar hurt him. Had he looked
out of the window, he would have seen a very
dusty boy, with a pouch over his shoulder, walk-

ing smartly down the street where his uncle
lived. But Sid carefully turned his head aside,
fearing to be recognized; for he was on his way to
a certain club to which Bemis belonged, preferring
his sympathy and hospitality to the humiliation of
having his mishap told at home by Uncle Tim,
who would be sure to take Hugh's part, and exult
over the downfall of the proud. Well for him that
he avoided that comfortable mansion; for on the
door-steps stood Hugh, beaming with satisfaction
as the clock struck one, proclaiming to him that he
had done his twenty miles in a little less than five
"Not bad for a 'little chap,' even though he is
'a donkey,' chuckled the boy, dusting his shoes,
wiping his red face, and touching himself up as
well as he could, in order to present as fresh and
unwearied an aspect as possible when he burst
upon his astonished brother's sight.
In he marched when the door opened, to find
his uncle and two rosy cousins just sitting down to
dinner. Always glad to see the lads, they gave
him a cordial welcome, and asked for his brother.
"Has n't he come yet?" cried Hugh, surprised,
yet inwardly glad to be the first on the field.
Nothing had been seen of him, and Hugh at
once told his tale, to the great delight of his hearty
uncle, and the admiring wonder of Meg and May,
the rosy young cousins. They all enjoyed the ex-
ploit immensely, and at once insisted that the
pedestrian should be refreshed by a bath, an
abundant meal, and a good rest in the big chair,
where he repeated his story, by particular request.
You deserve a bicycle, and you shall have one,
as sure as my name is Timothy West!" ex-
claimed his uncle. I like pluck and perseverance,
and you have both; so come on, my boy, and
name the wheel you like best. Sid needs a little
' taking down,' as you lads say, and this will serve
the purpose, I fancy. I am a younger brother my-
self, and I know what their trials are."
As his uncle made these agreeable remarks,
Hugh looked as if all his trials were over; for his
face shone with soap and satisfaction, his hunger
was relieved by a fine dinner, his tired feet
luxuriated in a pair of vast slippers, and the blissful
certainty of owning a first-class bicycle filled his
cup to overflowing. Words could hardly express
his gratitude, and nothing but the hope of meeting
Sid with this glorious news would have torn him
from the reposeful paradise where he longed to
linger. Pluck and perseverance, with cold cream
on the blistered heels, got him into his shoes again,
and he rode away in a horse-car, as in a triumphal
chariot, to find his brother.
"I '11 not brag, but I do feel immensely pleased
with this day's work. I wonder how Sid got on. I


suppose he made the distance in two or three
hours, and that he is parading with those swell
club fellows at the rink. I '11 slip in and let him
find me, as if I were n't a bit proud of what I've
done, and did n't care for anybody's praise."
With this plan in his head, Hugh enjoyed the
afternoon very much, keeping a sharp lookout for
Sid, even while astonishing feats were being per-
formed before his admiring eyes. But nowhere
did he see his brother, for he was searching for a
blue uniform and a helmet with a certain badge on
it; while Sid, in a borrowed hat and coat, sat in a
corner looking on, whenever a splitting headache
and the pain in his bones allowed him to see and
enjoy the exploits in which he had hoped to join.
Not until it was over and they went out, did
the brothers meet; and then the expression on Sid's
face was so comical that Hugh laughed till the
crowd about them stared, and wondered what the-
joke could be.
How in the world did you get here ?" asked
the elder boy, giving his hat a sudden pull to hide
the plaster.
I walked, as you advised me to."
Words can not express the pleasure that answer
gave Hugh, nor the exultation he vainly tried to
repress, as his eyes twinkled, and a grin of real
boyish fun shone upon his sunburnt countenance.
"You expect me to believe that, do you? asked
his brother.
Just as you please. I started with your lunch-
bag to catch you, and when I missed you, I
thought I might as well keep on. I got in about
one, took dinner at Uncle's, and have been enjoying
these high jinks ever since," replied Hugh, calmly.
Very well, for a beginning. Keep it up and
you '11 be a Rowell by and by. What do you sup-
pose father will say to you, small boy ?" asked Sid.
"Not much. Uncle will make that all right.
He thought it was a plucky thing to do, and so
did the girls. But when did you get in ? asked
Hugh, rather nettled at Sid's want of enthusiasm,
though it was evident that he was much impressed
by the small boy's prank.
I took it easy after Bemis left me," answered
Sid. I had a game of tennis at the Blanchards'
as I came along, took dinner at the club, and
strolled up here with the fellows. I 've a head-
ache, and I don't feel up to much."
As Sid spoke and Hugh's keen eye took in the
various signs of distress which betrayed a hint of
the truth, the grin changed to a hearty Ha !
ha as he smote his knees, exclaiming gleefully,
" You 've come to grief! I know it, I see it. Own
up, and don't shirk, for I '11 find it out somehow,
as sure as you live."
Don't make such a row in the street. Jump

aboard this car and I '11 tell you, for you '11 give
me no peace till I do," answered Sid, well knowing
that Alice would never keep the secret.
To say that it was a treat to Hugh faintly ex-
presses the interest he took in the story which was
extracted bit by bit from the reluctant sufferer;
but after a very pardonable crow over the mishaps
of his oppressor, he yielded to the sympathy he felt
for his brother, and was very good to him.
This touched Sid, and filled him with remorse
for past unkindness; for one sees his faults very
plainly, and is not ashamed to own it, when walk-
ing through the Valley of Humiliation.
Look here, I '11 tell you what I '11 do," he
said, as they left the car, and Hugh offered an
arm, with a friendly air, pleasant to see. I '11
give you the old wheel, and let Joe get another
where he can. It's small for him, and I doubt if
he wants it, anyhow. I do think you were a
plucky fellow to tramp your twenty miles in good
time, and not bear malice either, so let 's say
done, and forgive and forget."
Much obliged, but Uncle is going to give me a
new one; so Joe need n't feel any disappointment.
I know how hard that is, and am glad to keep him
from it, for he's poor and can't afford anew machine."
That answer was Hugh's only revenge for his
own trials, and Sid felt it, though he merely said,
with a hearty slap on the shoulder:
Glad to hear it. Uncle is a trump, and so are
you. We '11 take the last train home, and I'll pay
your fare."
"Thank you. Poor old man, you did get a
bump, did n't you?" exclaimed Hugh, as they
took off their hats in the hall, and the patch ap-
peared in all its gloomy length and breadth.
My head will be all right in a day or two, but I
stove in my helmet, and ground holes in both
knees of my new shorts. I had to borrow a fit-out
of Bemis, and leave my rags behind. We need n't
mention any more than is necessary to the girls;
I hate to be fussed over," answered Sid, trying to
speak carelessly.
Hugh had to stop and have another laugh, re-
membering the taunts his own mishaps had called
forth; but he did not retaliate, and Sid never for-
got it. Their stay was a short one, and Hugh was
the hero of the hour, quite eclipsing his brother,
who usually took the first place, but now very
meekly played second fiddle, conscious that he
was not an imposing figure, in a coat much too big
for him, with a patch on his forehead, a purple
bruise on one cheek, and a general air of dilapida-
tion very trying to the usually spruce youth.
When they left, Uncle Tim patted Hugh on the
head,- a liberty the boy would have resented if
the delightful old gentleman had not followed it



i88s.] "O UNCLE PHILIP!" 18I

up by saying, with a reckless generosity worthy of
record: Choose your bicycle, my boy, and send
the bill to me." Then turning to Sid he added,
in a tone that made the pale face redden sud-
denly, "And do you remember that the tortoise
beat the hare in the old fable."

"THAT is the last of the stories, for our holiday
is over, and to-morrow we must go home. We
have had a splendid time, and thank you and
Auntie so much, dear Grandma," said Min, ex-
pressing the feeling of all the children, as they
stood about the fire when the bicycle tale ended.
I 'm so glad, my darlings, and please God
we 'll all meet here again next year, well and
happy and ready for more fun," answered the old
lady, with arms and lap full of loving little people.
Auntie deserves a vote of thanks, and I rise
to propose it," said Geoff; and it was passed with
great applause.
"Many thanks. If the odds and ends in my
port-folio have given you pleasure or done you
any good, my fondest wishes are gratified," an-

swered Aunt Elinor, laughing, yet well pleased.
" I tucked a moral in, as we hide pills in jelly, and
I hope you did n't find them hard to swallow."
"Oh, no!-not at all. I intend to look after
little things faithfully, and tell the girls how to
make their jerseys fit," said Min.
I 'm going to fill my jewel-box as Daisy did,
and learn to cook," added Lotty.
Eli is the boy for me, and I wont forget to be
kind to this small chap," said Walt, stroking his
younger brother's head with unusual kindness.
Well, I'm rather mixed in my heroes, but I'11
take the best of Corny, Onawandah, and the ban-
ner fellow for my share," cried Geoff.
The little people proclaimed their favorites;
but as all spoke together, only a comical mixture
of doves, bears, babies, table-cloths, and blue
hose reached the ear. Then came the good-night
kisses, the patter of departing feet, and silence
fell upon the room. The little wheel was still,
the chairs stood empty, the old portraits looked
sadly down, the fire died out, and the Spinning-
wheel Stories were done.



WE 'RE going to keep a horse this summer,"
said Arthur Shaw, proudly, at recess one day.
"Oh, that is n't anything! "replied Willie Leslie.
"We 're going to keep a prairie!"
"What 's a prairie? "
Oh, it's a big flat place, where they keep about
forty horses, and fifty cows, and a hundred pigs,
and five hundred dogs, and a thousand sheep, and
a million hens, and "
Then Willie paused; his knowledge of arithmetic

did not extend beyond millions, and he had no in-
tention of lowering his estimates.
It was quite true; Uncle Philip had bought a
ranch in Kansas several years before, and had
represented life there as so delightful that Mr.
Leslie was going to take the entire family thither
for the summer, and Willie, indeed, was to go
back with his Uncle Philip in February.
"Do you have birthdays on a ranch, Uncle?"
inquired Willie, when told that he might go.


Yes, we have birthdays," said Uncle Philip;
"but I 'm not so sure about our having birthday
"Then I shall have my birthday before I go,"
said Master Willie, emphatically.
And is your front door cut in halves, like those
at Newport, so that Lilian can put on a long dress
and lean out over the lower half and look down the
road-so?" said Fred, illustrating by leaning over
the back of a large arm-chair in the attitude of one
of Raphael's angels.
It's all right about the door, but I 'm afraid she
could n't look down the road; it's too far away."
How far is it to the gate?"
There is n't any gate."
Then how do you get out from the fence ?"
There is n't any fence."
Then what keeps the animals in ? "
"Oh, the herders. We have no trees to make
lumber of, and wood is so high that it costs more
to build a fence than to hire a man to look after
the herd."
But you have to feed a man," suggested Fred,
mindful of what he had been told about the first
cost of a horse being a small part of the expense.
"Certainly; but you have to keep a fence in
repair. And where eggs are ten cents a dozen, but-
ter fifteen cents a pound, and chickens a dollar and
a half a dozen, it is cheaper to feed a man on poul-
try and custard than to mend a fence. Besides, Fred,
how long do you suppose it would take us to put a
fence around the ranch, if we had the lumber ?"
Would it take a month? "
A month? Well, let me see! it is a little hard
to calculate, but as a rough guess, I should think,
with a force of fifty men, we might get around it in
about five years. That is, if we did n't stop to
paint it."
0 Uncle Philip "
Sometimes we put a wire fence around a small
pasture of a hundred acres or so; but you will see
that it is much simpler on the whole to keep a man
walking around and around the flocks of sheep than
to shut them up inside a fence; especially as we
have n't any trees of which to make a fence."
Then," said Lilian, thoughtfully, that must
be what they mean in the Bible by men as trees
walking.' But can I have a flower-garden, Uncle
Philip ? "
Certainly, if you can make fifty or a hundred
acres do for one; I don't think I could spare more
than that very well for ornamental purposes. But
you can have plenty of flowers if you don't have a
flower-garden, you know. You can't walk any-
where on the prairie without stepping on a flower."
"0 Uncle Philip "
"And you can pick up vases for them, too,-

great hollow stones that will hold water and make
the prettiest vases in the world for a room with a
Kansas breeze blowing through it that would shiver
glass vases to atoms in a few minutes."
"I know there are some very pretty flowers on
the prairies," said Lilian, condescendingly. But,
all the same, I should like a few of the home ones.
If I could take out a few sunflower seeds "
Here Uncle Philip threw back his head and in-
dulged in a very hearty laugh.
My dear young lady, when the sunflower
season arrives I will harness up my carriage and
pair and drive you through twenty acres of them in
one field. It will be hard work to pull through, but
the horses will trample down the stalks ahead of us,
and when they spring up behind us again, after we
have driven over them, no one will know where we
are, for they will tower three or four feet above our
heads as we sit in the carriage or on horseback "
0 Uncle Philip!"
"And now that I think of it, perhaps we 'd
better have the sunflower bed fenced in; for if
baby Nora should stray in there, you would never
find her again."
Uncle Philip," said Willie, fixing his eyes
sternly on his uncle's face, as he had seen his
mother do sometimes when anxious to elicit not
only the truth, but the whole truth, "how big is
the whole thing, anyway? "
Willie, I object to having my ranch alluded to
disrespectfully as the thing. The pasture in it is
about as large as Central Park; the lawn, where I
suppose Lilian will wish to have her tennis and
croquet and things, is about as large as Prospect
Park in Brooklyn; and the 'whole thing,' as you
call it, is about eight times as large as both parks
put together."
0 Uncle Philip !"
When Willie finally left with his uncle to find
out for himself exactly how much of these wonder-
ful stories was true, Mamma was very quiet for a
day or two. She was not so sure as Papa and
Uncle Philip seemed to be that her boy would like
"roughing it," and she was afraid no one would
remember to look in at night to see if he were
warmly covered up. She waited anxiously for his
first letter; she was quite sure, whatever he might
say idr it, that she should know if he were really
When the letter came, it was a postal card, and
read as follows:
o When you cum out here, plese bring me a present of sum
collars for two puppy-dogs."
He did not say a word about being happy or
unhappy, but Mamma was so clever that she said
she was quite satisfied about it all, and she was





never heard to worry again about the extra blanket
at night. When the second letter came, it was
another postal card, which read thus:
"DEAR PAPA: Ive bawt a horse. He is a Good Horse. I pade
thirty dollars for him. I haven't bawt him to ride, but to speccullate,
You no you sed you would by me a horse, and Ide like to sell you
this one for me to ride. You can hav him for fifty dollars. Uncle
Fillip sez fifty dollars is cheap for horses. He sez youll find it a
bargain. And I cood keep the horse I like and make twenty dollars
on him. Uncle Fillip sez it isn't often that a bargain is a bargain for
both sides. Let me no if youwarnt to by him on theze condishuns.
"Your affekshionet sun,
Two months later, the entire family started to
join Willie at the ranch. The first day's journey
was very lovely, on the Pennsylvania Central
Railroad, through the Susquehanna valley and
among the Alleghany mountains.
"But I don't see any'chinery, Papa," complained
little Nora, after gazing steadily out of the window.
They could not imagine at first what Nora
meant; but they discovered at last that having
heard them talk a great deal about the "beautiful
scenery that they were to see from the cars, she
had supposed them to mean beautiful machin-
ery," such as Papa had shown her once at the
American Institute Exhibition.
Behind them in the cars sat a gentleman who,
Mamma whispered, was Mark Twain.
"But he has n't said a single funny thing all
the way," complained Lilian, on the second morn-
ing; "for I've been listening all the time."
Of course he has n't," explained Fred. "He
keeps his funny things for his books."
"Ard perhaps," suggested Lilian, he is wait-
ing to hear us say something funny, to put that in
his book. But I certainly sharnt;" and Lilian
closed her lips with unusual emphasis, lest a witti-
cism should escape unawares.
Will he put us in his book, do you think,
Papa?" asked Nora, anxiously.
Well, it is just p.: --:.le he may say something
about a little girl who could n't find any machinery
in the mountains," said Papa, slyly.
Late in the afternoon of the third day, they
stepped from the cars at last, to find Uncle Philip
:v lir nt; with the carriage, a big team for the lug-
gage, and Willie prancing about on the horse he
had "bawt."
Mamma," said he, solemnly, it's all true "
"What is true, my son?"
"Everything that Uncle Philip said! "
And away he cantered, or "loped," as they call it
in Kansas. The visitors exclaimed at the beauty
of the prairie ; for, although it was very early in
the season, and the trees had been still leafless
when they left New York, the prairie wild flowers
were already in blossom, and as far as the eye could
see, the grass was studded with brilliant portulacca.

"It must be God's flower-garden, Mamma,"
whispered Nora; "for I don't think any one else
could plant so many "
"What is that village in the distance, Philip ?"
asked Mrs. Leslie, when they had been driving
about ten minutes.
Willie," called his uncle, your mother wishes
to know what that village is in the distance ? "
Willie almost rolled from his horse in his
"It is n't a village, Mary," explained Mr. Leslie.
"It's a fort. I can see the main buildings of
stone, and the American flag floating from the
top. Fort Harker, I presume. Is n't it Fort
Harker, Philip?"
"Willie," again called his uncle, your father
says it is n't a village, but a fort. He thinks it
must be Fort Harker "
This time they were quite sure Willie would fall
from his horse in the ecstasy of his amusement.
Why, Papa, that is the ranch! and the flag is
our flag! "
"I bought that flag if New York," explained
Uncle Philip, "the day Lilian told me that the
young ladies at her school, who expected to corre-
spond with her this summer, wanted to know what
the postage to Kansas was. I can't have my
nephews and nieces think that in coming to see
me they are expatriating themselves from the land
of the free and the home of the brave."
The many buildings on the ranch -the stables,
corrals, sheep-sheds, hen-house, tool-house, pig-
gery, water-tower, windmill, cook-house, and so
on,-did, indeed, give the appearance of a thriving
little village; and as Mamma entered the comfort-
able dwelling-house, she laughed to remember her
fears about Willie's "roughing it" and having,
perhaps, no extra blanket on cold nights. Next
to her room was a cheery little room for Nora;
but as the little girl had never slept quite alone
before, they were not surprised to hear a little
voice in the night calling:
Mamma, are you there ?"
Mamma answered in person, and as she smoothed
the pillow, said:
You know it is very foolish to call anybody up
in the night, Nora, unless you really want some-
"I did want something, Mamma; I wanted
But if you wake up, you must turn over and
go to sleep again. That is the way I do. I never
call anybody."
"I know you don't now," said Nora, wistfully.
Did n't you call anybody when you wereababy ? "
Mamma did not make any direct reply, but
busied herself with the coverlet.




The next night Nora slept till morning; a little
surprised at not being praised for this feat at the
breakfast-table, she inquired, gravely:
"Mamma, did you hear me not call you last
Now began long and happy days for them all,-
days full of excitements so varied that at the end
of the summer, Fred declared that he had not been
berrying, and he had not had a sail; but he
believed he had done everything else that a boy
could do to have a good time. Each of them had
a pony, and after the long, delicious gallops on
the prairie, with the soft grass under their ponies'
feet, not a stick nor a stone in the path to make
them stumble, with the wild, free breeze blowing
in their faces, and no need to slacken speed lest a
carriage or a bicycle should be coming around the
corner, they were quite sure they could never
endure to ride in a park again, and the thought
of pacing solemnly around and around in a ring at
the riding-school was simply intolerable, Willie,
of course, appreciated at its true value his superior
experience, and found it especially delightful to
know more than Mamma-about some things, at

Uncle Philip just look at Mamma, out on the
range with a parasol! Is n't she a 'tender-foot! '"
One amusement was watching the great flocks
of sheep with the merry little lambs go in and out
of the corrals night and morning. Then came the
excitement of shearing-time, and loading the great
wagons with heavy bags of wool to be sent to New
York and Boston. There were fewer wild flowers
as the summer heat increased; but after the wild
flowers came the great harvests of grain, and the
children-the elders, too, for that matter-were
never weary of watching the wonderful machines,
almost human in their intelligence, so it seemed,
that cut the grain, tying it into bundles as it accu-
mulated, or threshed the rich wheat from the
useless chaff. The hay-fields-and Uncle Philip
expected to cut two thousand tons of hay that
summer-were, many of them, so far from the
home ranch that the men had a complete camping
outfit, not to waste time going back and forth for
their meals. Of the delights of visiting that camp,
I forbear to write, lest those of you who, poor
things, are obliged to spend the summer at New-
port or Mount Desert should have your simple

Ir- ,,.- II,

*' *. I!4'''. .7>

it~ ., -Wa

- rt-- x

.- -


last. Just think, Uncle Philip "was his favorite pleasures spoiled for you by the comparison.
exclamation, Mamma thought that flock of Then there were picnics at the great cave, beauti-
sheep was a hedge-fence!" or, "Uncle Philip! fully shaded with great trees along the creek,





where wonderful Indian hieroglyphics
were found, and where the gentle-
men-as the shooting season began,
and they scattered over the prairie for 0
prairie-chicken, quail, plover, or duck
-were glad to come together for after-
noon tea, made from Mrs. Leslie's urn.
And at last, just before they were going
home, they had one of the genuine
prairie excitements.
They all had been dining at Elk
Horn ranch,-the charming home of
their nearest neighbors,- and as they
rose from the table, smoke was seen
in the distance. Experienced eyes,
however, pronounced that it was noth-
ing alarming, and they all sat on the
piazza for another hour. When at last
the horses were brought around, they
had hardly driven a quarter of a mile,
before a man without any hat met
them on horseback, shouting:
You can not get home, Mr. Les-
lie The fire is raging for miles be-
tween here and your house "
But I must get home !" shouted
Uncle Philip, as he. gave the whip to
his horses. They were only four miles
from their own house, but between
raged a sea of prairie fire !
It was a terrible sight, as they ap-
proached the place where flames began
to be visible. Of course there were no
towering buildings with roofs ablaze
and crackling walls, and they had no
fear of any lives being in danger; but
to see acres of low grass all aflame,
like a lake of fire miles in extent, was
a thrilling sight in itself, even if one
were not wondering what might be
happening at the dear home just be-
yond. Uncle Philip drove to a little
patch of plowed ground, waiting there
with the smoke and cinders almost ." .'.
blinding their eyes, and the fearful
wind almost blowing them from the
carriage, till the flames had passed
over a strip of land wide enough for the horses to
pass through. Then, on and on, as fast as the excited
animals could run, waiting from time to time on
little squares of plowed ground, till they came to a
strip of furious flame, which did not seem to yield
even after waiting ten or fifteen minutes. '" I must
get to my sheep exclaimed Uncle Philip, and in
another moment they were driving straight through
and over the flaming grass It did not last long,
of course; but they drove home at a furious pace,

.-" i
-._ J:,,

to find that the fire had paused about a mile from
the house, though all the men on the ranch were
at work there, beating down the flames with old
blankets, branches of trees, and even old clothes
dipped in water. It was a fierce struggle; and
they worked till late into the evening before they
could feel that house and crops and "range '
were at last quite safe.
"You look like Meg Merrilies, Mamma," said
Lilian, as she tried to smooth her mother's flying




wraps and disordered hair. "A prairie fire is dread- Uncle Philip. "And if it should make up its
ful. But then I suppose a cyclone would have mind to take you with it to Kansas City, it would
been worse!" carry you there faster than any railway train you
What is a cyclone? inquired Nora. ever saw."
It is a terrible storm, my little girl," explained 0 Uncle Philip "

^J .O--


HEY, the little postman,
And his little dog!
Here he comes a-hopping
Like a little frog;
Bringing me a letter,
Bringing me a note,
In the little pocket ;
Of his little coat. '

Hey, the little postman,
And his little hat!
Here he comes a-creeping
Like a little cat.
What is that he 's saying?
"None for you to-day?"
Cruel little postman,
I wish you 'd go away.

Hey, the little postman,
And his little bag !
Here he comes a-trotting
Like a little nag;
Bringing me a paper,
Bringing me a bill
From the little grocer
On the little hill.

'.-.,, .- ...

'-; <, ; 1



i _
~15 I ::1

1. D

[885.1 HIS ONE FAULT. 187




KIT had to go back on his course again, but
not far; and he was soon following the path among
the undergrowth. Fresh hoof-prints in soft places
amid the roots and dead leaves corroborated the
laborer's story; they led to the grassy hollow,
where a spot which some beast had lately grazed
was plainly to be seen near another that showed an
impression, like that of a human form, on the bank.
It must have been a man that lay here; that
shows it," said Kit, turning over the stump of a
cigar with his foot.
Of course, neither man nor horse was there then;
but he was able to follow the foot-prints along a
winding cart-track, through beautiful, open, sun-
spotted woods, until he came to a pair of posts
with three bars, the two upper ones of which were
let down.
"To take Dandy through," said Kit to himself.
" Here are his tracks still!" and he followed them
into a wild, rocky, and hilly road beyond.
Farther along were some men gathering squashes
in a field, and Kit shouted his question at them
across a brier-overgrown stone wall.
"Yes, we 've seen a man with just such a
horse," one shouted back from a wagon in which
he stood, catching the squashes another man and
a boy tossed up to him.
In spite of the briers, Kit was over the wall in a
moment, and the squash-gatherers stopped their
work to hear his eager questions.
"No," said the man in the wagon, "I did n't
notice the braided foretop nor the other marks
which you describe. The fellow wanted to sell
or trade his horse; but as I did n't want either
to buy or swap, I did n't take the trouble to go and
look at his beast. I guess you '11 hear of him far-
ther up the road."
All the boy's hope and strength seemed to come
back with the joy of this good news. How glad
he now was that he had not given over the pursuit,
as more than once in his discouragement and
fatigue he had been tempted to do! And how
fortunate that he had got so early a start, after the
theft was discovered !
Perhaps Uncle Gray will take back some of
his hard words," he said, anticipating the triumph
of riding Dandy home, or of carrying a certain
clew to his whereabouts. And how pleased
Mother will be "

He heard of the horse at two or three places,
and at last got a ride with a young farmer, who
gave him a startling piece of information.
"I 've seen your horse-thief, certain as the
world! He wanted to sell me the animal for a
hundred dollars, and I think I might have bought
it, but I don't like to take a horse I've never seen
before, for fear there might be something wrong
about it."
Kit described Dandy's marks.
Yes, that's the one i said the farmer. "I
looked at his feet, and I remember he had no shoes
in front. His foretop was n't braided, but it was
crinkled, as if it had been braided and the braids
had been taken out. A cunning thief would be apt
to do that."
He also remembered the mottles on the sides.
Kit asked excitedly when and where he had seen
the man and horse.
"A little before noon," was the reply. "The
fellow stopped to get dinner and bait his horse at
my father-in-law's, the next house to mine. It's
just possible he 's there now. I've been down the
road since dinner, and am just driving home."
So saying, he whipped up his horse; while Kit,
with impatient expectation, strained his eyes in the
direction of the father-in-law's house in the distance.
The young farmer drove rapidly by his own door,
and turned up at the next front-yard. The father-
in-law himself came out leisurely to meet him.
"Where's that fellow who took dinner here,
and had the horse to sell?" cried the young
farmer. To which the old farmer responded with
a deliberation strangely in contrast with Kit's
breathless excitement:
"That chap? He's been gone an hour. He
hung'round, trying to get me to make him an
offer, till I fairly had to send him away."
It 's too bad said the young man. The
horse was stolen, and it belongs to this boy's
uncle. Where did he go?"
The old farmer looked at Kit's changing coun-
tenance, and replied :
I said to him, 'The best place to sell your
horse is over at Peaceville, at the cattle-show.' 'Is
there a cattle-show at Peaceville ?' said he. Yes,'
I said, it opens to-day, and holds to-day and to-
morrow.' 'That's an idea,' said he; 'how far
is it?' I told him about eight miles; then he
wanted to know the best way to get there, and
started off. I 've no doubt that he will go straight


to the cattle-show with his stolen horse, if he don't
sell it on the way."
What did he say for himself? What sort of
looking man was he ?" Kit asked.
He said he had been to collect a bad debt, and
had been obliged to take a horse he did n't want,
and that was why he was willing to dispose of it
at any price. But I did n't have much faith in
what he said, though he was a rather good-looking,
pleasantfellow. Sallow-complected, red hair, about
average height, and he wore a common-looking
suit of some sort of dark checked goods, and a nar-
row-brimmed, low-crowned straw hat."
All this corresponded well with what Kit had
heard before, and enabled him to form in his
mind so distinct an image of the fugitive that he
felt almost sure he would recognize him when he
saw him, even if he were not riding Dandy.
"Do you suppose he has really gone to the
cattle-show?" he asked, turning to the younger
farmer. Or might he not have made a pretense
of going, to throw pursuers off his track?"
Either is likely enough; but I think it more
probable he will try to sell the horse at the fair.
That being in another county, and so far away, he
wont expect to meet there any of your neighbors
who know the animal. Your best course," the
young man added, "will be to take the road to
Peaceville, and inquire for him as you go along."
I think so myself. And I must lose no time !"
Adding a word of hearty thanks, Kit was step-
ping down from the wagon, when the young man
stopped him.
Sit still; I 'll drive you over to the main road
you are to strike; I only wish I could go all the
way "
I wish you could!" exclaimed the grateful
boy. But I shall be glad of even a little lift."
He was beginning to feel more foot-sore and leg-
weary than he had ever been in his life, and it was
with pain and repugnance that he stepped down
upon the road-side where the friendly young.farmer
was obliged to leave him. His stomach was empty
and faint, and there was a spot in the small of his
back which seemed to be tiring of its share in the
day's business, and threatening to strike work
He felt that he could not afford a minute's time
to rest, or even to get a bite at a farm-house, so
much depended on the speed with which he could
follow the thief. He had quenched his thirst at
way-side wells and springs, and helped himself to
apples in orchards as he passed; and with such
scanty refreshment he trudged on wearily.
It was very near sunset when, dusty and hag-
gard and spent, he came in sight of the cool
meadows and sluggish, winding river on the pleas-

ant outskirts of Peaceville. From afar off he was
shown the high-towered fair-building in the midst
of the grounds where the cattle-show was held;
and at last the colossal image of an ox-yoke above
a broad open gateway assured his anxiously beat-
ing heart that he had arrived at the entrance.


WHEN the gate-keeper asked for his ticket, Kit
in return inquired for Dandy and his rider. The
man shook his head.
I have seen too many horses to remember any
particular one," he said. Your man may have
left his horse outside, or he may have taken it
in; I can't tell."
Shall I have to pay to go in ?" Kit asked, hav-
ing learned that a ticket of admission would cost
half a dollar. I have n't come to see the fair,
only to hunt for a stolen horse."
The man took out his watch, then looked Kit
over carefully.
"All right," he said. It's the end of the
show for to-day, anyhow." And he turned back
into the grounds, accompanied by Kit.
The man appeared interested in something tak-
ing place on the other side of a railing that
swept around in a wide curve near the entrance,
inclosing, as Kit found, that indispensable feature
of the agricultural fair-ground, the trotting-park.
There was a crowd of spectators farther along,
on the side where he was, while beyond, far away
on the broad, well-trodden circular track, he saw
half a dozen or more horses with light sulkies com-
ing swiftly around toward him. Each sulky had its
occupant perched on the little frame that served as
a seat, ridiculously close to the tail of the trotter he
was urging. The dust of the track leaped up like
smoke in dull gray puffs under the flying hoofs,
rose in a cloud behind, and gradually mingled
with the ring of thin, dingy haze, of like earthy
origin, overhanging the entire race-course.
Four or five of the trotters fell behind, and
became scattered along the track, while two passed,
nearly abreast, the spot where Kit was, and shot
by the judges' stand,-a square-roofed tower
inside the track,-amid a tumult of cheers from
the crowd without. Some one's horse had won;
Kit did not care whose; he only waited to see that
Dandy Jim was not on the track (for which
absurd idea he laughed well at himself afterward),
and then turned to look through the stables be-
hind the course.
He found only blooded animals there, and soon
satisfied himself that it was not the place to look
for Dandy Jim. Meanwhile, some visitors who


i885.] HIS ONE FAULT. 1I9

had their teams in the fair-grounds were hitching
them up, and driving out. He scanned them
rapidly, and, hastening across the field amid a
throng of pedestrians taking their departure,
found a number of horses, some harnessed to
wagons and some detached, tied to ropes or rails
between the race-course and the central fair-
buildings, or pavilion.
With a heart full of distressing anxiety, he
looked at every animal; but Dandy Jim was no-
where to be seen. Was his toilsome journey then
in vain ? Had the thief, whom he had traced until
within a mile or two of the village, suddenly taken
another turn and eluded him? Or had the horse
been actually brought there, and sold, and taken
away again, before his arrival ? This was the re-
sult he had dreaded most, and a final, sicken-
ing fear settled upon him that this was what had
The far-spreading fields of the river-valley were
already in shadow, and the sunshine was fast fad-
ing from the wooded hills; evening was closing
in with a beauty and dewy coolness which made
the movements of the crowds, and the dusty can-
opy over the race-track, seem something alien and
strange. The bell at the judges' stand was tink-
ling for starts and recalls, and every one who
was not leaving the grounds appeared interested
in the next heat to be run. No one noticed or
cared for poor Kit, not even a policeman to whom
he appealed; and in all these throngs he saw not
a face he knew.
There were fruit-wagons and ginger-beer carts,
side-shows and refreshment-tents, farther on;
while a distant sound of lowing and bleating told
him that the cattle-sheds were on the other side of
the grounds. He determined to make the tour
of them, asking for Dandy of every man who
would give him a moment's attention. The side-
shows with their highly colored placards did not
allure him, nor had he any desire to see the fin-
est museum of curiosities" ever opened to an
ungrateful world for the low price of ten cents;
nor to try his luck at swinging the ball around the
peg, a little game at which he was told by the
proprietor there was a chance to win a small
But here Kit, looking for friendly faces to which
to address his questions, suddenly stopped.
It beats everything! said a young man, giving
the ball a final spiteful swing. When I swung it
just for fun, I could knock down the peg by the
return swing every time. But as sure as I put
up my money, I knock it down the other way,
and lose. How do you manage it, old Punkin-
eater ?"
It's all luck," replied the proprietor, coolly

pocketing his dimes. "Walkup; don't be afraid,
gentlemen? You pay ten cents for a swing, and
if you knock the peg down with the ball coming
back, you win half a dollar; five for one. Try it ? "
He appealed to Kit in vain; Kit just then had
his fascinated eyes on the young man who had
been losing. Suddenly he stepped forward and
extended his hand with the eagerness of one
snatching at the smallest chance of friendly assist-
ance, exclaiming:
"Cassius Branlow !"
Cassius Branlow gave a start of surprise, and
eyed him sharply.
You have slightly the advantage of me, young
man," he replied coolly.
"Don't you know me? You used to work for
my father in the tin-shop. I am Kit! "
"Ah Kit indeed! But, great Scott what has
happened to you ? You look as if you had been
seeing the elephant, and been slightly stepped on.
How's your father? It seems an age since I've
been among the East Adam folk."
The young man rattled away so glibly that it
was some moments before Kit could tell his story.
Then he said, appealingly:
"My father is dead. And I am living with
Uncle Gray. His horse was stolen last night; I
have traced it to this town, and I think to this
cattle-show. I don't know anybody here-and I
am so glad I have met you "
Mr. Cassius Branlow opened his eyes and held
his breath a second or two before exclaiming:
"What a volley of thunderbolts you fire off at a
poor mortal, all at once Your father dead-? Just
as I was thinking of going back to work for him
again! The best man I ever worked for in seven
States! And your uncle's-what did you say?-
his horse stolen ? "
"Yes;. I've been traveling all day to find it.
And now, here I am, at night, twenty miles from
home,- though it's farther than that by the way
I've come,- in a place where I don't know a soul,
and I don't know what to do Here poor Kit's
voice broke.
"Do?" cried Mr. Cassius Branlow, cheeringly.
1 '11 tell you what you must do. Step into this
refreshment-tent with me and get a lunch, the first
thing. That's what you need."
"I can't do that," replied Kit, "till I have found
the horse. Come around here with me; I have
looked everywhere except on the side of the cattle-
"There are no horses over there," said Bran-
low, very positively, "and I don't believe the man
who took yours would be likely to bring it to so
public a place as this. Though I must say it
seems to be a great resort for doubtful characters


of all kinds. Is n't it a shame," he went on, with-
out giving Kit a chance to reply, that the agri-
cultural fair- an institution from which so much
good is expected-should have run down, as it has
of late years, and have been given over almost en-
tirely to horse-racing! Look around you here
to-day, and what do you see ? "
"I don't see what I want to--my uncle's
horse!" said Christopher.
"A few calves and pigs, a little show of fruit
and garden-stuff-I could eat all the pears and
grapes there are in the hall in a few hours !" Mr.
Branlow declared. "And what else is there be-
sides the horse-trotting? That's what I call de-
moralizing. But it 's of a piece with some of
these outside shows. There's that little game of
swinging the ball, for example."
The one you were just now playing ?" queried
Christopher, surprised to hear his old acquaint-
ance criticise the management of the cattle-show
from a moral point of view.
I wished to see if it was anything more than
the miserable game of chance which I proved it
to be," replied Branlow. "I call it a disgrace
to New England agriculture that such a thing
should be allowed at any of its annual exhibi-
tions. Don't you ? "
It does n't seem to be just right," said Chris-
topher. "I had n't thought about it before. I
can't think of anything but Uncle Gray's horse "
And he gazed anxiously about.
Your Uncle Gray, as I remember him," said
Cassius, "is a most excellent man, with a nose
like a short sickle, and a tendency to asthma.
It's too bad about his horse! I must try to help
you find it."
I should be so glad if you would! exclaimed
the grateful Christopher.
Of course I will," rejoined Branlow. "Now,
let's see If the fellow was so foolish as to bring
it to a show like this "
It's out of our county, and a long way from
the place where the horse is known," suggested
Kit. "I don't believe there's anybody here from
our town but myself."
I had n't thought of that," replied Branlow.
"And you say you have traced him to Peaceville ?"
I am sure of it affirmed Kit.
"In that case," said Branlow, "you 're doing
a very unwise thing to stand here talking with me.
Don't you see? The rascal may not yet have
brought the horse into the grounds; or, if he has,
he may spy you out, and get off with it while
you are gaping about. I'1l tell you what 's your
scheme. You should be at the entrance, where
you '11 be sure to see him if he takes the horse out
or in. You made a mistake leaving it."

"Perhaps I did," poor Kit murmured. "But
I thought there might be some other way out, and
I could look around in a few minutes."
"There 's no other way out; and you'd better
leave me to look about for you. Describe the
horse, so I shall know it if I see it."
Kit described Dandy's points, which Cassius
rehearsed after him, telling them off on his
fingers. "A dark-brown horse" (first finger).
" Mottled with lighter spots on his sides ".(second
ditto). "Foretop looks as if it had been lately
braided-shod behind, not before-yes yes!
I 've got him! said Branlow, touching fingers
number three and four.
"You've got him?" repeated the startled
"On my fingers," Branlow smilingly explained;
"and here !" touching his forehead. "I shall
know that horse when I see it. Light-brown, with
darker spots- "
No, no! cried Kit. "Dark-brown, with
lighter roundish mottles- "
Certainly Is n't that what I said ? I '11 look
at every horse on the ground, and if it 's shod
before and not behind- "
"Behind and not before interrupted Chris-
"Hear me out!" continued Branlow. "If it's
shod before and not behind, I shall know at once
it is n't your horse. Now rush to the gate, and
don't leave it till I meet you there. We'll have
your nag, and trap the rogue, too, if they 're on
this ground."
Kit started to run toward the entrance; while
Mr. Cassius Branlow, instead of devoting his time
and energies at once to making the promised
search, stood, holding Dandy Jim poised on the
ends of his fingers, and smilingly watched the
boy as he scudded away across the open field,
amid the scattered pedestrians.
Suddenly Mr. Cassius snapped Dandy off his
finger-tips, and uttered his favorite exclamation:
This was called out by an unexpected move-
ment on the part of Christopher, who, seeing some
wagons over on the side of the cattle-pens, and
reasoning that, where wagons were, horses were
likely to be, notwithstanding Branlow's positive
assurance to the contrary, and the fact that none
were in sight, turned aside from his course, in
order to give a rapid look in that direction.
I can see at the same time if anybody on
horseback passes in or out," he said to himself,
keeping an eye on the entrance while hastening
to the sheds.
These were mostly empty, the great annual
cattle-show having dwindled, as Branlow truly ob-



x885.] HIS ONE FAULT. 191

served, to a mere horse-racing affair, with a pretty
exhibition of fruits and vegetables and a little
live-stock thrown in as additional attractions. A
few of the pens were occupied by handsome
cattle and noble-looking swine, which no one
seemed interested in just then; while Kit saw that
the owners of the wagons had taken advantage of
the condition of things by slipping their horses

ting in the horses, some of which were loosely
harnessed, while the harnesses of others had been
stripped off and left in the wagons near by, or
thrown across the low partitions of boards divid-
ing the pens.
In the gloom of these low-roofed stalls three
or four of the animals looked much alike, and
all appeared dark enough to be Dandy Jims

into the least dilapidated of the ancient-looking, to the wild-eyed boy peering eagerly over the
unused sheds, bars. But at sight of one he gave a cry of
These owners, like almost every one who was joy:
not leaving the grounds, were over at the trotting- Dandy Dandy Jim !"
course. It was quite late, and the sheds were And the horse gave a quick, low whinny of
in shadow. Each had two or three bars up, shut- recognition.

(To be continued.)






THE Dalzells again! Not among the rose-
gardens of Dalzell Hall, not upon the wide slopes
that climb upward from the sea all around Daisy-
down, not amid the sweet, wind-blown fragrances
of summer or the ripe fruitage of autumn days; -
but in snowy, blowy December weather, by the
shores ofa great river-ice-bound now- that flows
through eastern New York to the sea, do we find
Ranald, Houghton, and Phil.
You who have read of Molly Arnold's three
friends-she had none stauncher, I trow-may
be glad to hear from them again.

It was very near Christmas when Miss Molly
electrified her family one morning at the break-
fast-table with Papa, I've an idea 1"
"What a rarity Might I inquire what it is?"
asked her father, with a smile.
I want to ask you a favor," added Molly.
"That's not so surprising," exclaimed Mr.
"I wish to invite some friends of mine here for
the holidays. The Dalzells were very kind to me
last summer at Daisydown," continued Molly,
hesitating a little.




They were more than kind," said Mr. Arnold,
"And I'd like to ask them here," added Molly,
making a bold plunge.
Mrs. Arnold calmly put up her eye-glass, and
looked fixedly at her daughter. Under the ques-
tioning gaze, Molly's enthusiastic certainty of
belief in her plan oozed gradually out at her
finger-ends. She played with her fork, and sat
quite silent, her eyes directed toward her plate.
Mr. Arnold glanced quickly from his wife to
his daughter.
"I have heard a great deal about the young
Dalzell-gentlemen," observed Mrs. Arnold, after a
long pause, transferring her attention to her hus-
band. May I ask your opinion of them ?"
"They're very fine boys," said Mr. Arnold,
tersely, pushing away his chair. I 'd be happy
to see them here."
When Mr. Arnold was about departing down-
town, Molly waylaid him with a flying bound from
the reception-room.
"Papa! in ahalfwhisper, "can the boys come?"
"Oh, I think so," he answered, with an indul-
gent smile. And Molly rested content.
The next day, Mrs. Arnold graciously conde-
scended to write a kind and pressing invitation for
the whole family, Mr. Tripton Dalzell included.
She had seen the latter several times-his boys,
never. And Mrs. Arnold disliked boys.
Following the invitation and its acceptance, came
what seemed at first an unlucky coincidence-a let-
ter from Murat Havemeyer, at Poughkeepsie-on-
the-Hudson, profferingthem Christmas hospitalities
and ICE-YACHTING if they would but make haste
to come up. How Molly's cheeks glowed! Had
not she been out in the Rondina" only the win-
ter before, in a glorious skim, away down below
Newburgh ? Ice-yachting, indeed!
Then her color faded. For one moment she re-
pented having invited the Dalzell boys. The next,
she reddened again, ashamed of her selfishness.
"No, I 'm not sorry,-not very. I 'm glad
they're coming, and I'11 do every single thing I
can to make it pleasant for them. But oh, I do
wish we might have ice-yachting nearer home!
It's the finest sport in the world she cried.
"Dear me," said Mr. Arnold, "we must see
about this. I 'm not quite a magician, but I think
this state of things might perhaps be remedied.
Ice-yachting does not come every day."
And Molly rested in hope,- such confidence had
she in her father.
In due time the Dalzells arrived. The Christ-
mas festivities were brilliant indeed; but with them
we have naught to do. Nor yet with anything,
save the fact that arrangements were somehow
VOL. XII.--3.

completed by which Ranald, Houghton, Phil, and
Molly-the latter attended by Mrs. Arnold's maid
-went up to Mr. Havemeyer's atiPoughkeepsie,
for three or four days.
And now, for the first time since our happy sum-
mering, we meet face to face Houghton, Ranald,
and Phil. We do not see much change; Hough-
ton is as quiet as ever; Ranald's gray eyes are as
shrewdly penetrating; Phil's bluntness seems to
have suffered no abatement. He is rather the shy-
est of the three, just now, for he has not quite got
his "bearings"; and young Murat Havemeyer,
aged nineteen, is a rather self-sufficient and authori-
tative young fellow. Phil, watching him, decides
in his mind that he does not like young Murat.
But Murat the elder understands boys. Thatis
such a comfort! Before they know it, they are
talking to him quite as if they had always known
him, and he listens and answers with that imper-
turbable, jolly good humor of his, the sun reflecting
from the kindly depths of his brown eyes, and
bringing out tawny glints in his full beard. For
they are down by the frozen Hudson, and the
" Rondina," swiftest and wariest of ice-swallows, is
at hand, ready for a start; and it is a sunshiny Wed-
nesday morning, with a fresh wind and a sting in
the air. And Miss Molly's frizzes are particularly
fluffy, and her blonde braid hangs to her waist be-
low her snug hood, and she wears a long, close ul-
ster and seal-skin gloves. Every one is buttoned
and tied up, excepting Houghton and young Mu-
rat, who are not going on this trip.
It can not be said that young Murat is exactly
easy in his mind because of the lack of confidence
in his skill manifested by his father.
I '11 take the helm to-day, my dear fellow, if
you've no objections," Murat the elder has said
to him an hour previous. "We 've a fresh wind
abeam, and I wont risk Miss Molly's precious neck
with your mad steering. If Mr. Houghton Dalzell
has a mind to ship with you by and by,- at his
own peril,-why, I've nothing to say."
So now, Murat, a little sore at this disparage-
ment in Molly's presence, gloomily watches the
Now, Mr. Ranald, if you were aboard a streak
of blue lighting, what would you do?" inquires
Mr. Havemeyer.
"I think I should-hold on tight," answers
Ranald, with a laugh.
"Just what I 'd advise you to do to-day," says
Mr. Havemeyer, with a bland warning. "I under-
stand from Miss Molly that you and your cousin
are excellent sailors." He smiles at Phil.
I like boating," says Phil, eagerly.
"Does the ice-yacht work like a water-yacht?"
inquires Ranald, surveying the queer runners, the




"box" aft, the sheet hauled taut, the jib cast off,
and the rudder turned straight across.
"Not precitly," answers Mr. Havemeyer, as-
sisting Miss Molly to her place. "The sails are
always trimmed flat aft, unless the wind is too
strong; then the boom may be cast off a foot
or so. Now, young gentlemen, your safest place
is the windward runner. You can hold by the

white, marked here and there with the dark inter-
section of fence and wall. How the long ice-
covered river opens and widens before them!
Now here comes Blue Point, bare and ragged
against the steely blue sky; and of a sudden
Ranald .hears, above the ceaseless whir of the
runners, a dull, booming, crack! crack! that runs
from under their very feet, seemingly clear across
the river. Now the runners crash lightly through
a thin window of ice, and the transparent sheets
rattle and fall like window-glass The wind blows
and blows. Aha this is "something like I"
"Hold fast, boys!" shouts Mr. Have-
7 meyer; and with a wild dash and a sweep
Like a swallow's, they are about and away



shrouds. You ballast the windward side nicely.
All ready?"
Mr. Havemeyer trims the jib, and Murat the
younger swings the stern around and pushes a
step or two. The next instant they are on the
Ice-yachting is very new to the Dalzells. The
first things Ranald notices are the deserted docks
of Poughkeepsie,-the Havemeyer mansion is just
above, near the river,-a few sloops, ice-bound,
and the smoke of many furnaces, blown straight
out in the crisp, cold air.
With what a speed they fly! How clear-cut
everything appears in the sharp, winter morning!
The headlands are bleak and bare, the fields

on a new tack. How the scene changes How
the headlands fly to meet them Ranald rubs his
eyes with one hand. That was a bare, bleak hill
-now it is dotted with evergreens; there is a
house among them-it is gone !
"This beats instantaneous photography !" says
Phil under his breath. He holds on tightly.
Now, with another sudden, unpremeditated swing
they are about again; the crushed ice -flies like
diamond spray from the runners; the wind whis-
tles through the ropes and sails; the yacht sways
and leaps, bounds and heels sideways; it trembles
all over, and they feel as if they themselves had
wings and were sweeping through space 1 Molly's
cheeks glow, her eyes are ablaze with excitement.




The rudder moves as easily as a straw in Mr.
Havemeyer's strong hand; it is wonderful how
the wild, wayward thing obeys the Ji-hrtet- touch.
Surely it feels-it knows-it is alive !
"Hi!" shouts 3.:-r.iL1. as we flash straight
toward a pool of open water, black and still.
"Aha!"-But where is the water now? They
skim over thin, transparent ice; it cracks; they
can see the 1-. Ll..r- and bubbling of the confined
and swiftly flowing tides. Now, with a sudden
bound, the runner strikes a li.i:- mound of ice
and snow, and whiz flash! It rears and wheels;
the runner is flun on high; Ranald's feet fly out
from under him, and he is a .i!.g :iili.- ir-...-hi
the air, E..ildLa; to the shrouds in desperation.
When this trapeze t- rf:.rrman is ended and he
can catch his breath, there is a roar and rush
behind them. What next ?
The down train! The boys look over their
shoulders as the big, black monster shoots past.
The whistle blows sharply; there are handkerchiefs
waving from the windows. The ice-yacht is just
now holding nearly across the river.
"A race! a race, boys! cries Molly.
She sees the quick turn of Mr. Havemeyer's
hand, and with a sheer and a spring they are off
after the train.
"' J,-y-. Ranald, this is glorious! cries Phil,
qut-e :a.u-i-d out of himself. Ranald says c-2.5n'_-.
but the gray eyes are all aflame as he looks
at Molly. There is a laughing flash from the
hazel ones, and she calls out, "Did n't I tell
Now the race-the race, boys Steam against
wind! How they fly! Everything is blurred and
melted r.:.i-h._r and indistinct. The ice is all a
bluish white haze, with that diamond sparkle from
the runners T.I :c ir .- up.
The windows of the train are filled with heads;
the-y Ecrji to shout at the party on the ice-yacht,
who hear only the rush and roar of the wind and
the runners. The wind increases; the boat rears
higher; the -.-ini-;-.r:! rnner cuts fiercely
through the air, and the crushed ice flies in a
shower. Almost up with the train, now; and
creeping on i
Will the wind hold? But never fear; thiiss no
flaw, but a steady gale. It seems as if the black
train were slowing up; yet no,-it is the yacht
which is Ri;-,e-n .--_r. literally on the wings of the
wind. And now-a crack in the ice ahead!
Mr. H-.. Tra.-:--,.r rn r :, himself and scans the ice
witheagle eye. An old hand at c.:- .;. :htin L-he.
"We can do it, I iLr,:l." he says.
Now, brave Rndina! And the train sees the
craclk too; the cars seem alive all their long
length with heads and gestures and warning

shouts. Do they think everybody is asleep there
on t.:: i.;:hr. fl'.:,i.. feathery wanderer?
The upper edge of the crack is higher by full
six inches than the lower; and between swirls the
black, treacherous water. They are upon it!
Whiz !- -:pLi !-- as the edge-ice sags and the
runner catches the cold tide. There is a wild, trem-
ulous swing and sway, a toss of the windward run-
ner, and the crack is far astern. How the train
cheers And look, now, the black, snorting en-
gine falls behind! Wind against steam Give
them three cheers, boys, and swing your caps, and
hold fast while you are about it. The track is
: --: ahi-d : the locomotive whistles and snorts and
shouts inwild salute at the yacht's victory. Faster,
-faster,--till there is only the ring of the run-
ners, the roar and rush of the wind, the tremble and
leap and swing and sway of the wayward craft.
But look! What is this that comes wildly
careering toward them ? A runaway yacht, with-
out a soul aboard! And lo! yonder the care-
less owners are chasing .* I y!i and ineffectually
after it.
They might as well chase the wind. A little
:h u.; t r= n= -i;. a little disembarking without let-
ting loose the jib or putting the rudder hard down
round,--and now the craft has flown.
There is no swifter thing on earth than an ice-
yacht; and Mr. Havemeyer's action is exceedingly
We shall have a : -. ; i.. r .- -.:. next," sayshe;
andthen the Rondina" givesaqueer spring and a
wild i.- sweep that takes Ranald so by surprise
ch-[.?_- : ; : :,. _. -..V, 1 i, th. l ,..; ea-: p.: f rm l -:
again. How .-e I;. n'T --- to stay on is a puzzle.
Then a sort of sidewise shift in the wind produces
a c: irc-: ...ndirL., change in the direction of the run-
away, which shoots directly toward them. Ranald
says, Good gracious! and wonders how it will
feel to be shot off into the air on his own hook.
We must wear or go to smash in two minutes,"
sAys Mr. Havemeyer; and with a quick word to
Molly, a sharp, Hold fast there, forward !" the
"Rondina"c.- rn .- ii. Ir ii At-.:.'I-lil::n -, ::p.
Under strong 1 ', .. it is an exciting maneuver.
" -le- watch the -ir ::.rn;r stranger,-it also
seems ii .:. and L:l;-ir, to do them mischief; it
plunges viciously at them as their windward runner
comes down on the ice, and a dexterous turn of the
rudder just saves the Rondina" from disaster.
The runaway yacht shoots furiously past, toward
the -.l--rj:a,; we go i-Tmi.r, about since the
danger is past, and we hear the shock and crash
with which it brings up on the rocks ashore, and
the .p r .- go by the board.
"So much for carelessness," says Mr. Haveme-
3yer, ij5-- -*' _:..- ,": the distant .n rri ; .;' .- :'


crew. And then they are shooting swiftly back up
the river to New Hamburgh, which they passed
long ago. People are walking across the river on
the ice over the track of the ferries; there are also
other yachts skimming about here and there; chil-
dren are sliding in the white coves, and their laugh-
ter comes, clear and distinct, through the keen air.
Cold? No one is cold. Excitement keeps them
warm. Now back and forth they skim, fighting
passing teams with their swift, bird-like flights,
shooting close to the verge of quiet little villages
stirring under their winter coat of snow. Ah, this
is indeed flying! By zigzags and wild stretches
they come at last in sight once more of the piers,
and sloops, the black smokes, and clustered houses
of Poughkeepsie; and after that, all in a minute, as
it were, the little cove, the ice-bound pier, and the
house among the evergreens on the hill salute our

vision. But now, to "bring to requires, as Ran-
aid begins to see, a little more maneuvering than he
would use in sailing the "Nocturne" in blue
water. First the "Rondina" flies away to wind-
ward for a great many lengths; then she comes
down with the wind, gradually decreasing in speed,
until she is fairly in the cove.
Slowly-slowly-" Dear me," says Ranald; "I
would n't believe such a trick as that could ever
stop her "
There is a slight scrape and jar as Mr. Have-
meyer sets the rudder sharp across,--to act as a
brake,- and the swallow's flight is ended. And
Phil wonders why in the world Molly was n't
spilled out; and Ranald declares, as they all walk
up the snowy path to meet Houghton and young
Murat, that it is the most exciting experience he
ever had in his life.


BY C. T.

" I WONDER," cried Maisy, small and fair,
On Christmas eve, as the night shut down,
" How Santa Claus can go everywhere
And find all the stockings in every town!"

She skipped from the window lofty and wide,
And questioning stood at her mother's knee
In the beautiful light of the fireside,-
Mamma, does he ever forget?" asked she.

"A poor child is begging out there in the storm,
So cold, Mamma, and so pale and thin !
Can't we have her here to get dry and warm?
And may I tell Bessie to bring her in?"

Astonished, the shivering beggar was brought,
And thankfully stood in the fire-light's glow
While Maisy gazed at her, deep in thought.-
Do you hang up your stocking? I'd like to

" My stocking? I haven't a stocking," she said.
Oh, dear, kind people, please give to me
For starving Mother a piece of bread;
Too weak to rise from her bed is she."

They 'gave her stockings, clothes, food and wine,
With fuel to burn and candles to cheer,
And sent her home in a carriage fine,
Quite dumb and breathless with joy and fear.

" Mamma, Mamma," cried Maisy, small,
When the child had gone in her dream of bliss,
" She never has hung up a stocking at all!
She does n't know, even, who Santa Claus is!"

Then she kneeled on the hearth-stone, 0 Santa
Claus dear,"
She cried, with her pretty head all in a whirl,
" You needn't bring anything beautiful here;
Please take all my things to that poorlittle girl!"



And Santa Claus heard what she said, and she
No stocking at all by the fire that night.
But up in the morning rejoicing she sprung,
Herself like the sunshine, so cheerful and

Not a trace of a present by bed
or by fire!
The good saint had taken her
quite at her word;
And Maisy sweet, having
had her desire,
Set up her old play-
things, as
blithe as a

She played till
't was time .
to the church
to go;
Then in satin and velvet
and fur and plume,
The mother and daughter
tripped over the
With red lips
smiling and
cheeks abloom.

And after the service was over,
and out
The people poured from the
portal wide;
Her playmates round Maisy pressed
about,- In ,
And What did you get in your
stocking?" they cried.

Then answered our Maisy sweet
and small,
While her color grew to a deeper red,
" What did you get? I got nothing at all !"
Nothing! She must have been naughty! "
they said.

That moment, a beautiful sound in the air!
The blast of a horn, so clear and loud
That it caused all the people to start and
stare -
And a horseman dashed swift past the wait-
ing crowd.

And up to Maisy where she stood,
A little apart from the rest, he spurred;
Dismounted as quickly as ever he could,
'And bowed to the ground ere he uttered a word.

Such a splendid messenger, plumed and curled,
Booted and spurred, with a sword so grand!
There never was such a surprise in the
And what do you think he held in his hand


-r -

Tied up with ribbons?- Such trin-
kets and toys,
(Oh, the snow-birds flut- -- tered
to hear the news!)
A music-box, and K no end
of joys, S U ""
Andthe dearest dolly, with pointedshoes!

"Good Santa Claus sent me," he said, and he
To bring you some presents and wish you
He did what you asked for the poor little child,
But it made him too late for your stocking
last night! "





FOR about four months all went well at the
parsonage. So long as Mikkel was confined
in the stable he behaved himself with perfect
propriety, and, occasionally, when he was (by
special permission) taken into the house to play
with the children, he won golden opinions for
himself by his cunning tricks, and became, in fact,
a great favorite in the nursery. When the spring
came and the sun grew warm, his kennel was, at
Thor's request, moved out into the yard, where
he could have the benefit of the fine spring
weather. There he could be seen daily lying
in the sun, with half-clOsed eyes, resting his head
on his paws, seeming too drowsy and comfortable
to take notice of anything. The geese and hens,
which were at first a trifle suspicious, gradually
grew accustomed to his presence, and often
strayed within range of Mikkel's chain, and even
within reach of his paws; but it always happened
that on such occasions either the pastor or his
wife was near, and Mikkel knew enough to be
aware that goose was forbidden fruit. But one
day (it was just after dinner, when the pastor was
taking his nap), it happened that a great fat gan-
der, prompted by a pardonable curiosity, stretched
his neck a little too far toward the sleeping Mik-
kel; when, quick as a wink and wide-awake,
Mr. Mikkel jumped up, and before he knew it, the
gander found himself minus his head. Very
cautiously the culprit peered about, and seeing
no one near, he rapidly dug a hole under his
kennel and concealed his victim there, covering
it well with earth, until a more favorable oppor-
tunity should present itself for making a meal of
it. Then he lay down, and stretched himself
in the sun as before, and seemed too sleepy even
to open his eyes; and when, on the following
day, the gander was missed, the innocent de-
meanor of Mikkel so completely imposed upon
every one, that he was not even suspected. Not
even when the second and the third goose disap-
peared could any reasonable charge be brought
against Mikkel.
When the summer vacation came, however,
the even tenor of Mikkel's existence was rudely
interrupted by the arrival of the parson'A oldest
son, Finn, who was a student in Christiana, and
his dog Achilles. Achilles was a handsome
brown pointer, that, having been brought up in
the city, had never been accustomed to look
upon the fox as a domestic animal. He, there-

fore, spent much of his time in harassing Mikkel,
making sudden rushes for him when he thought
him asleep; but always returning from these ex-
ploits shamefaced and discomfited, for Mikkel
was always a great deal too clever to be taken by
surprise. He would lie perfectly still until Achilles
was within a foot of him, and then, with remark-
able alertness, he would slip into the kennel,
through his door, where the dog's size would not
permit him to follow; and the moment his enemy
turned his tail to him, Mikkel's face would appear,
bland and smiling, at the door, as if to say:
"Good-bye Call again whenever you feel like
it. Now, don't you wish you were as clever
as I am? "
And yet in spite of his daily defeats, Achilles
could never convince himself that his assaults
upon Mikkel brought him no glory. Perhaps his
master, who did not like Mikkel any too well,
encouraged him in his enmity, for it is certain
that the assaults grew fiercer daily. And at last,
one day when the young student was standing in
the yard, holding his dog by the collar while
exciting him against the half-sleeping fox, Achilles
ran with such force against the kennel that he
upset it. Alas For then the evidence of Mikkel's
misdemeanors came to light. From the door-
hole of the rolling kennel a heap of goose-
feathers flew out, and were scattered in the air;
and, what was worse, a little dug-out" became
visible, filled with bones and bills and other in-
digestible articles, unmistakably belonging to the
goose's anatomy. Mikkel, who was too wise to
leave the kennel so long as it was in motion, now
peeped cautiously out, and he took in the situa-
tion at a glance. Mr. Finn,. the student, who
thought that Mikkel's skin would look charming
as a rug before his fire-place in the city, was
overjoyed to find out what a rascal'this innocent-
looking creature had been; for he knew well
enough that his father would now no longer
oppose his desire for the crafty little creature's
skin. So he went into the house, loaded his rifle,
and prepared himself as executioner.
But at that very moment, Thor chanced to be
coming home from an errand.; and he had hardly
entered the yard, when he sniffed danger in the
air. He knew, without asking, that Mikkel's doom
was sealed. For the parson was a great poultry-
fancier and was said to be more interested in his
ganders than he was in his children. Therefore,



A85.1 MI KK EL. 199

-- -* r /;L. 1.s~*~



-j A'
_4 j 'r u n .

if1 .7 ,

/ ~= 4:;Y

A-r w *?

without waiting for further developments, Thor
unhooked Mikkel's chain, lifted the culprit in his
arms, and slipped him into the bosom of his waist-

coat. Then he stole up to his garret, gathered
his clothes in a bundle, and watched his chance
to escape from the house unnoticed. And while
Master Finn and his dog were hunting high and low


for Mikkel in the barns and stables, Thor was
hurrying away over the fields, every now and
then glancing anxiously behind him, and nearly
smothering Mikkel in his efforts to keep him con-
cealed, lest Achilles should catch his scent. But
Mikkel had his own views on that subject, and
was not to be suppressed; and just as his master
was congratulating himself on their happy escape,
they heard the deep baying of a dog, and saw
Achilles, followed by the student with his gun,
tracking them in fierce pursuit. Thor, whose
only hope was to reach the fiord, redoubled his
speed, skipped across fences, walls, and stiles,
and ran so fast that earth and stones seemed to
be flying in the other direction. Yet Achilles's
baying was coming nearer and nearer, and was
hardly twenty feet distant by the time the boy
had flung himself into a boat, and with four vig-
orous oar-strokes had shot out into the water.
The dog leaped after him, but was soon beyond
his depth, and the high breakers flung him back
upon the beach.
"Come back at once," cried Finn, imperiously.
"It is not your boat. If you don't obey, I '11
have you arrested."
Thor did not answer, but rowed with all his
If you take another stroke," shouted the stu-
dent furiously, leveling his gun, I '11 shoot both
you and your thievish fox."
It was meant only for intimidation; but where
Mikkel's life was at stake, Thor was not easily
Shoot away," he cried, thinking that he was
now at a safe distance, and that the student's marks-
manship was none of the best. But before he
realized what he had said, whiz went a bullet over
his head. A stiff gale was blowing, and the lit-
tle boat was tossed like a foot-ball on the incom-
ing and the outgoing waves; but the plucky lad
struggled on bravely, until he hove alongside a
fishing schooner, which was to sail the next morn-
ing for Drontheim. Fortunately the skipper needed
a deck hand, and Thor was promptly engaged.
The boat which had helped him to escape was
found later and towed back to shore by a fisher-



IN Drontheim, which is a large commercial city
on the western coast of Norway, Thor soon found
occupation as office-boy in a bank, which did busi-
ness under the name of C. P. Lyng & Co. He was
-a boy of an open, fearless countenance, and with a

frank and winning manner. Mr. Lyng, at the
time when Thor entered his employ, had just
separated from his partner, Mr. Tulstrup, because
the latter had defrauded the firm and several of its
customers. Mr. Lyng had papers in his safe which
proved Mr. Tulstrup's guilt, but he had contented
himself with dismissing him from the firm, and
had allowed him to take the share of the firm's
property to which he was legally entitled. The
settlement, however, had not satisfied Mr. Tulstrup,
and he had, in order to revenge himself, gone
about to the various customers, whom he had him-
self defrauded, and persuaded them to commence
suit against Mr. Lyng, whomhe represented as being
the guilty party. He did not at that time know
that Mr. Lyng had gained possession of the papers
which revealed the real authors of the fraud. On the
contrary, he flattered himself that he had destroyed
every trace of his own fi audule-nt [ransactions.
The fact that Mr. L. n bci...nged to a family
which had always been distinguished in busi-
ness and social circles for its integrity and honor
only whetted Tulstrup's desire to destroy his
good name, and having laid his plans carefully, he
anticipated an easy triumph over honest Mr.
Lyng. His dismay, therefore, was very great
when, after the suit had been commenced in the
courts, he learned that it was his own name and
liberty which were in danger, and not those of
his former partner. Mr. Tulstrup, in spite of the
position he had occupied, was a desperate man, and
was capable, under such circumstances, of resorting
to desperate remedies. But, like most Norwegians,
he had a streak of superstition in his nature, and
cherished an absurd belief in signs and omens, in
lucky and unlucky days, and in specters and appa-
ritions, foreboding death or disaster. Mr. Tulstrup's
father had believed in such things, and it had been
currently reported among the peasantry that he had
been followedby a spectral fox, which some asserted
to be his wraith, or double. This fox, it was said,
had frequently been seen during the old man's life-
time, and when he once saw it himself he was
frightened nearly out of his wits. Superstitious
stories of this kind are so common in Norway
that one can hardly spend a month in any country
district without hearing dozens of them. The
belief in a fylgia, or wraith in the shape of an
animal, dates far back into antiquity, and figures
largely in the sagas, or ancient legends of the
It has already been told that Thor had obtained
a position as office-boy in Mr. Lyng's bank; and it
was more owing to the boy's winning appearance
than to any fondness for foxes on Mr. Lyng's part,
that Mikkel also was engaged. It was arranged
that a cushion whereupon Mikkel might sleep




should be put behind the stove in the back office.
At first Mikkel endured his captivity here with
great fortitude; but he did not like it, and it was
plain that he was pining for the parsonage and his
kennel in the free air, and the pleasant compan-
ionship of the geese, and the stupid Achilles.
Thor then obtained permission to have him walk
about unchained, and the clerks, who admired his
graceful form and dainty ways, soon grew very
fond of him, and stroked him caressingly, as he
promenaded along the counter, or seated himself

them, can not afford the luxury of giving way to
C. P. Lyng & Co's bank was a solid, old-fash-
ioned business house which the clerks entered as
boys and where they remained all their lives. Mr.
Barth, the cashier, had occupied his present desk
for twenty-one years and had spent nine years more
in inferior positions. He was now a stout little
man of fifty, with close-cropped, highly respect-
able side-whiskers and thin gray hair, which was
made to cover his crown by the aid of a small


on their shoulders, inspecting their accounts with
critical eyes. Thor was very happy to see his
friend petted, though he had an occasional twinge
of jealousy when Mikkel made himself, too agree-
able to old Mr. Barth, the iash;i,: r, or kissed young
Mr. Dreyer, the assistant book-keeper. Such faith-
lessness on Mikkel's part was an ill return for all
the sacrifices Thor had made for him; and yet,
hard as it was, it had to be borne. For an office-
boy can not afford to have emotions, or, if he has

comb. This comb, which was fixed above his
right ear and held the straggling locks together,
was a source of great amusement to the clerks, who
made no end of witticisms about it. But Mr. Barth
troubled himself very little about their poor puns,
and sat serenely poring over his books and packages
of bank-bills from morning till night. He prided.
himself above all on his regularity, and it was said
that he had never been one minute too late or too
early during the thirty years he had been in Mr.

202 Ml K K EL. UANoARV,

Lyng's bank; accordingly,- he had little patience
with the shortcomings of his subordinates, and
fined and punished them in various ways, if they
were but a moment tardy; for the most atrocious
of all crimes, in Mr. Barth's opinion, was tardi-
ness. The man who suffered most from his sever-
ity was Mr. Dreyer, the assistant book-keeper.
Mr. Dreyer was a good-looking young man,
and very fond of society; and it happened some-
times that, on the morning after a ball, he would
sleep rather late. He had long rebelled in
silence against Mr. Barth's tyranny, and when he
found that his dissatisfaction was shared by many
of the other clerks, he conceived a plan to re-
venge himself on his persecutor. To this end a
conspiracy was formed among the younger clerks,
and it was determined to make Mikkel the agent
of their vengeance.
It was well known by the clerks that Mr.
Barth was superstitious and afraid in the dark;
and it was generally agreed that it would be capi-
tal fun to give him a little fright. Accordingly the
following plan was adopted: a bottle of the oil of
phosphorus was procured and Mikkel's fur was
thoroughly rubbed with it, so that in the dark the
whole animal would be luminous. At five minutes
before five, some one should go down in the cel-
lar and turn off the gas, just as the cashier was
about to enter the back office to lock up the safe.
Then, when the illuminated Mikkel glared out on
him from a dark corner, he would probably shout
or faint or cry out, and then all the clerks
should rush sympathetically to him and render
him every assistance.
Thus the plan was laid, and there was a breath-
less, excited stillness in the bank when the hour
of five approached. It had been dark for two
hours, and the clerks sat on their high stools, bend-
ing silently over their desks, scribbling away for
dear life. Promptly at seven minutes before five,
uprose Mr. Barth and gave the signal to have the
books closed; then, to the unutterable astonishment
of the conspirators, he handed the key of the safe
to Mr. Dreyer (who knew the combination), and
told him to lock the safe and return the key. At
that very instant, out went the gas; and Mr. Dreyer,
although he was well prepared, could himself
hardly master his fright at Mikkel's frightful ap-
pearance. He struck a match, lighted a wax
taper (which was used for sealing letters), and
tremblingly locked the safe; then, abashed and
discomfited, he advanced to the cashier's desk
and handed him the key.
"Perhaps, you would have the kindness, Mr.
Dreyer," said Mr. Barth calmly, to write a letter
of complaint to the gas company before you go
home. It will never do in the world to have such

things happen. I suppose there must be water in
the pipes."
The old man buttoned his overcoat up to his
chin and marched out; whereupon a shout of
laughter burst forth, in which Mr. Dreyer did not
join. He could not see what they found to laugh
at, he-said. It took him a long while to compose
his letter of complaint to the gas company.
Mikkel in the meanwhile was feeling very un-
comfortable. He could not help marveling at his
extraordinary appearance. He rubbed himself
against chairs and tables and found to his aston-
ishment that he made everything luminous that
he touched. He had never known any respectable
fox which possessed this accomplishment, and he
felt sure that in some way something was wrong
with him. He could not sleep, but walked rest-
lessly about on the desks and counters, bristled
with anger at the slightest sound, and was miser-
able and excited. He could not tell how far the
night had advanced when he heard a noise in the
back office (which fronted upon the court-yard) as
if a window were being opened. His curiosity was
aroused and he walked sedately across the floor;
then he stopped for a moment to compose himself,
for he was well aware that what he saw was some-
thing extraordinary. A man with a dark-lantern
in his hand was kneeling before the safe with a

key in his hand. Mikkel advanced a little further
and paused in a threatening attitude on the thresh-
old of the door. With his luminous face and body,
and a halo of phosphorescent light round abouthim,
he was terrible to behold. He gave a little snort,
at which the man turned quickly about. But no
sooner had he caught sight of the illuminated Mik-
kel than he flung himself on his knees before the
little animal, and with clasped hands and a coun-
tenance wild with fear exclaimed: O, I know who
thou art! Pardon me, pardon me! Thou art my
father's spectral fox! I know thee, I know thee !"
Mikkel had never suspected that he was any-
thing so terrible; but, as he saw that the man was
bent on mischief, he did not think it worth while
to contradict him. He only curved his back and
bristled, until the man, beside himself with terror,
made a rush for the window and leaped out into
the court-yard. Then Mikkel, thinking that he
had had excitement enough for one night, curled
himself up on his cushion behind the stove and
went to sleep.
The next morning, when Mr. Barth arrived, he
found a window in the back office broken, and the
door of the safe wide open. On the floor lay a
bundle of papers, all relating to the transactions
of Tulstrup while a member of the firm, and,
moreover, a hat, marked on the inside with
Tulstrup's name, was found on a chair.




MI K K EL. 203

On the same day, Mr. Lyng was summoned to
the bedside of his former partner, who made a
full confession, and offered to return through him
the money which he had fraudulently acquired.
His leg was broken and he seemed otherwise shat-
tered in body and mind. It had been his purpose,
he said, to drive Mr. Lyng from the firm in dis-
grace, and he was sure he could have accomplished
it, if Providence itself had not interfered. But,
incredible as it seemed, he had seen a luminous
animal in the bank, and he felt convinced that it
was his father's spectral fox. It was well enough
to smile at such things and call them childish;
but he had certainly seen, he said, a wonderful,
shining fox.
Mr. Lyng did not attempt to convince Mr. Tul-
strup that he was wrong. He took the money and
distributed it among those who had suffered by

Mr. Tulstrup's frauds, and thus many needy
people-widows and industrious laborers-re-
gained their hard-earned property, and all because
Mikkel's skin was luminous. When Mr. Lyng
heard the whole story from Mr. Dreyer, he laughed
heartily and long. But from that day he took a
warm interest in Thor and his fox, and sent the
former to school and later to the university, where
he made an honorable name for himself by his
talents and industry.
Poor Mikkel is now almost gray, and his teeth
are so blunt that he has to have his food minced
before he can eat it. But he still occupies a soft
rug behind the stove in the student's room, and
Thor hopes he will live long enough to be intro-
duced to his master's wife. For it would be a pity
if she were not to know him to whom her husband
owes his position, and she, accordingly, hers.

g~ust zeetbe co tthat I Imve on!
It used to fit UorncleoPJhbP
flewys nmy Cranch1)s b&bynei7,
15vtbhes too bigto be &q&pra
tHis reet biA Eoa.t is~blc &Tid new
An tritneyou see is old &ind blue,
'I ~ An ~ rndquc $erether of'$etwro,
This unvy co~S ,k
-; TbdtuseatoIRIt'4C.A.
I Ah)de 6o7r. ) C

CTbey S& it'se&Uk4'ullYtrjde,
A iiriewdhWiovely wbitebroccle

'A ~--, A~d i~stbisjpodket Jit youisee
abt b ere ir) front,
___t yJ -oder.stad,
Were~c I 61wbys
uvt r9y~aPrId
%uz,]: ike 1be:re&,t Npbolewr),
Tbfdwby I Iet)effjfterqtitor)
T15 queer old coato Uvele
(94r) -




OF course her name was not really Fanchon,
for she was a real little American girl, and proud
enough to be one, too. But very early in her career,
it became evident that Frances was far too stately
a name, for the little yellow-haired damsel; and
Fanny was ordinary, and Aunt Maria disapproved
of ordinary names; and Frank was masculine, and
Papa abominated anything masculine about a
woman; so when Uncle Bob, just returned from
Paris, called the pretty fairy Fanchon," the fam-
ily took it up at once, and Fanchon she was and
is and will be to the end of the chapter.
They all were upstairs in Fanchon's pretty
parlor one winter afternoon: Helen Lawrence,
Catherine Motte, and Amy Van Home, Eleanor
Bowditch, Jessica Cabot, and Fanchon herself, all
six of them intimate, particular and bosom friends
from their kindergarten days.
"Four o'clock," said Jessie Cabot, "and all
done at last; but how we have worked, girls! "
Jessie Cabot was as lazy as a luxurious yellow
kitten, and looked not so very unlike one, as she
nestled in her low chair by the fire, with her round
little face, sleepy eyes, and fuzzy lemon-colored hair.
"You all have worked like Trojans," said the
pretty hostess Fanchon. "I could never have
done it all without you."
She was pouring chocolate from the most
charming turquoise blue pot ever seen, and the
girls were sitting about in various graceful atti-
tudes, resting from their labor, and refreshing
themselves with a nourishing repast of macaroons,
lady's-fingers, and bonbons.
The "work" lay on a broad, low table by the
window,-such a heap of brilliant, useless things !
Coquettish little slippers of gold and silver;
shining fish and birds; delicate butterflies with
glittering wings; fairy trunks of pink satin and
portmanteaux of blue silk; rose-colored glasses;
ivory canes; silver pipes and golden umbrellas,-
everything that was frail and useless and extrava-
gant. In short, these were the favors for Fanchon's
german, and the girls had been working like
bees, filling the fanciful bonbonnidres, putting
ribbons on the ribbonless, writing the character
cards, and dividing the masculine favors from the
Four days to wait, girls; wont it seem like an
age said Catherine Motte, a curly haired, gray-
eyed elf. As she spoke, she waltzed slowly down
the room and stopped by a window.

Arthur Winslow dances as slowly as that," she
said. I like to dance with Will Everett ever so
much better; he goes like the wind. I do like to
dance rapidly."
"I don't," drawled Jessie Cabot; "the slower
the better for me."
I should like to go to a german every single
evening," announced Helen Lawrence, nibbling
a macaroon. "Let's see; four days. Sunday,
Monday,- positively, girls, nothing but cooking-
class, the Stanleys' musical, and the matinee on
Wednesday. Not a step of dancing until Fan-
chon's german. How can we wait ? "
What music shall you have, Fanchon ? asked
Amy Van Home; "shall you have Brimmer's
Six' ?"
"Papa has promised me Snaphausen," replied
Fanchon, demurely, though her dimples would
show a bit, for very joy.
Who would n't be glad to have Snaphausen and
his wonderful men to play for one's german ? Snap-
hausen, who composed such glorious dance music;
who would not play for every one, not he; who
needed coaxing and teasing, not to mention a fee
of one hundred and fifty good dollars.
He had nodded his shaggy old head and prom-
ised to play for Fanchon. No wonder she smiled
and dimpled.
There was a perfect chorus of delight and envy
from the girls.
Snaphausen That lovely Hulbert Snap-
hausen, and all his men! "
"Fanchon, you spoilt child! "
"You lucky girl "
"Is there anything that Fanchon's father will
not do for her ? "
O, Fanchon, you '11 throw my poor little ger-
man into the shade, indeed 1 "
"Mine, too; let me hide my diminished head
somewhere. I was so puffed up with my 'Brim-
mer's Six.' "
"Well, girls," said Fanchon, making herself
heard with difficulty. You know, Papa always
promised me a nice coming-out party."
But though she tried to be modest, Fanchon
knew, and the rest knew, that though they were
friends, these bosom six, there was a bit of rivalry
among them in regard to these first parties of theirs.
It was their first society winter, for they had left
Miss Leighton's school only the June before.
How lovely it will be sighed Eleanor Bow-





z885.] FANCHON'S GERMAN. 205

ditch, in rapture. She was sitting in the window
seat, apparently absorbed in admiring her ex-
quisite, steel-embroidered slippers. Presently she
O, Fanchon," she said, "here is a horrid
little beggar going to play something dreadful on
a violin. She's looking up here; shall I shake my
head ?"
"Why, no," said Fanchon, going idly up to the
window; "let her play. I don't mind. Do you?"
"Cover your ears," cried Eleanor, who was
musical and sang like a lark; cover your ears,
girls. Prepare for 'Silver Threads Among the
The player, a poor pinched creature with eyes
of unnatural size, glanced up at the house, rested
her chin on her poor violin, and began to play.
It was not Silver Threads Among the Gold,"
but a plaintive, simple little air, quite new to the
hearers. Almost a wail it was, and seemed to ex-
press in music such cold and hunger and desola-
tion, that the pretty smiling group at the upper
.window became quite sober all at once.
As soon, however, as the sad air came to an
end, the player's face brightened, she tuned her
violin, and suddenly swept into a swinging waltz,
so gay and so entrancing, that Amyand Catherine
seized each other and whirled madly away quite to
the other end of the room.
How can she play so well? Where did she
learn? And on such a poor violin!" exclaimed
Helen Lawrence.
"How dreadfully cold she must be I" exclaimed
Jessie Cabot, with a shudder.
It was indeed a bitter day, with an eager, pene-
trating wind, which cared not a snap for the cotton
gown and thin little shawl of the poor musician.
"Excuse me just a minute, girls," said Fan-
chon; "I 'm going down."
The girls declared that it was nearly dinner-
time, and they must be going, so they trooped
across the hall to Fanchon's chamber.
Fanchon ran downstairs to give some small coins
to the little player. As she opened the door, a
keen blast rushed in, leaving her almost breathless.
How horrible said Fanchon; "I should think
she would die. She shall be warm for once, any-
how," and she sent her around to the kitchen.
Down the broad stairs came the girls, as charm-
ing as pinks and roses, smiling and comely in their
sealskin, and plush, an4 velvet, and nodding
plumes. What did they care for the wind? He
might blow twice as fiercely as now, and they
would still be warm and rosy.
"Thursday night!" they called out gayly.
Good-bye, Fanchon; remember the german "
Fanchon smiled and nodded. The stony-faced

footman closed the door, and Fanchon paced the
hall a minute, with her forehead puckered into a
It was just one of my crazy performances,"
she said. "Now that I have got her in, I don't
know what to do with her, I'm sure, and Helen is
waiting upstairs. I'll ask Aunt Maria if--no,
Aunt Maria has the 'Associated Charities' in the
parlor, and can not be bothered by a beggar.
There I must go down and see her myself. I
can give her my old ulster, if I can't do anything
Fifteen minutes later, Fanchon came up into the
little parlor where Helen Lawrence was waiting.
"I'm afraid you'll never forgive me, dear," she
said breathlessly, "for leaving you so long. I
know I 'm horribly rude."
"I believe I was almost asleep," replied Helen,
drowsily. The wind and the fire make me stupid.
What is it? Have the girls just gone ? "
O, no," said Fanchon; "they went long ago.
I was downstairs talking with that Italian girl.
Do you remember the man who was killed last
month in the elevator at Warner's? This is his
daughter; and the Warners never have done a
thing for her, and her mother is dead, too!"
"I remember," answered Helen, yawning,
"Papa said the Warners behaved badly about
that; but Bennett has had new horses this year,
and Kate and Julia have gone abroad, so I suppose
they feel rather poor."
"But what will become of the girl?" asked
"That's a conundrum," returned Helen, light-
ly; there are so many such people, you know."
She knelt down on the rug and began to feed
Psyche, the silken-eared King Charles spaniel,
with bits of macaroon.
Fanchon's heart gave a swift little throb of
doubt. They came rather often, these throbs,
when she talked with Helen. Fanchon was so
proud of her. She was such a brilliant and
beautiful Helen, such a queen among the girls;
and then -she was Jack Lawrence's sister. Fan-
chon did wish to believe Helen quite perfect, and
yet sometimes--
Fanchon's eyes roved almost guiltily about the
Such a dear, little, frivolous room; all blue and
ash and silver; with silky white rugs; distracting
cabinets of bronze and china and carved ivory,
sent home from China by Uncle Bob; her own
piano; her dainty desk, her beloved books and
pictures then that girl. The picture of the
little girl would keep coming up in her mind.
She slept in a hogshead on India wharf one
night, Nell," said Fanchon aloud, at last.


"Who did?" asked Helen, trying to induce
Psyche to beg.
"That Italian girl. Carlotta, her name is."
!" said Helen. "Psyche, you witch, beg,
or you shall not have it."
There 's an institute at Bingham," began
Fanchon, a sort of home for girls. You pay a
hundred dollars, and that admits one girl; and she
is kept and taught until she can earn her own liv-
ing. They teach cooking and needle-work and
everything useful. Aunt Maria is a trustee." .
What a horrible place !" said Helen devoutly.
"Fanchon, dear, your favors are just perfect.
They never cost less than thirty dollars, you ex-
travagant little sinner. And then Snaphausen!
Your party will outshine all the others. Is n't it
nearly dinner-time ? Let 's go into your room
and brush our bangs."
It snowed the next day, and the wind blew in
stormy gusts, driving the white flakes in sheets
before it.
Fanchon could not go to church. She stood by
the window and watched the storm; she teased the
sleepy dog; she wandered restlessly about the
house from room to room.
I can not do it," she said, stopping and resting
her arms on the low mantel in her own parlor.
' Why should I do it ? It is my birthday, and Papa
is willing. What would the girls say? I told
them yesterday I should have Snaphausen. How
strange they will think it! And then perhaps
it is: too late, anyway. Snaphausen may make
us pay just the same, if we break our engagement.
I do not believe Papa can find him another for that
same evening. Oh, dear! "
She looked a moment in gloomy silence at the
cupid that, in a gilded swing, pretended to be the
pendulum of her little mantel-clock.
It was to be her first real grown-up party."
Jessie Cabot had given the opening german of the
season, and had lovely silver filagree bouquet-
holders and boutonnidres for favors.
Amy Van Home had followed with Brimmer's
Six," quite eclipsing Jessie's two violins and piano.
Now it was Fanchon's turn, and she had it in her
power to eclipse them all with the great Snap-
hausen himself, and garlands of bon silene rose-
buds, instead of ribbons, for the ribbon figure,-
her own dainty device.
Could she,- should she give it all up ? No, it was
really too hard; she could not do it. What could
she say to the girls and Helen ?
Then Jack Lawrence would say she was odd, as
he did when she picked up the scattered corn-balls
for the old woman on the Common. She could not
bear to have Jack Lawrence call her odd again.
There was Aunt Maria; and Aunt Maria would

call her a strange child, and wonder what
"our set" would say. Then Papa,- who knew
whether he approved, or thought her silly and
quixotic, when he said, "Do just as you please,"
with that queer twinkle in his eye ? After all,
there were people enough to help the Italian.
Why should Fanchon care ?-she was not respon-
And just then, by some strange chance, there
flashed through Fanchon's mind that old bitter
question, the question of Cain before the Lord,
"Am I my brother's keeper?" Fanchon sat
down upon the silky rug, laid her head upon a
chair-cushion, and cried with hearty good-will.

Such a pretty picture as it was! The long,
well-lighted room, with the candles reflected in
twinkles and sparkles in the beautiful polished
floor; the bank of palms and ferns which filled the
window at the end; the pretty girls in filmy gowns
of white and rose and blue; and, flying lightly
down the middle of the floor, six blithe young
couples whirling away with merry feet to the sound
of the Morgenblatter waltz.
It was a very good waltz and well played, with
plenty of swing and verve to it to set the young
pulses beating and the young feet flying, but it
was not Snaphausen and his twelve merry men
who played it.
It was a thin-faced, dark-eyed Italian girl, in a
gray gown of Fanchon's.
She played as if she were bewitched and could
never stop nor tire. Beside her, at the piano, a young
man in glasses hammered out the'time, in unceas-
ing one, two, three, after the fashion of the pro-
fessional accompanist.
That was all the music. Fanchon's german had
come to this. Her music was even less than Jessie
Cabot's, and she was now certain that her party
would be eclipsed by every other one given by the
"intimate six," as Jack Lawrence called them.
Yet, after all, Fanchon did not mind it so much.
It was certainly unpleasant when Aunt Maria
said that she hoped their set would not call her
father "money-mean"; and it really made her
cringe when she saw Minnie Harcourt and Bella
Douglass raise their eyebrows and exchange signifi-
cant little smiles when they saw the musicians.,
But it was not so very bad when the first was
over. Fanchon was so busy with her duties as
hostess, seeing that plain Susie Boyd did iot go
favorless, and that somebody took pity upon
Donald McArthur, who was so sadly conscious ofhis
feet and hands, that she had no time to think
upon her own woes.
Somebody- could it have been Papa ?-had told
Helen all about it, and Helen had told the girls.



Amy and Jessie pressed Fanchon's hands in the
"right and left" figure and whispered that she
was "just elegant." Helen, her own beautiful
Helen, beamed upon her and said softly:
"Fanchon, I wish I were worth half as much as
one of your little fingers."

And Jack Lawrence, that charming Harvard
sophomore, when he seated her after a breathless,
delicious whirl, said bluntly, with honest admira-
tion in his eyes: You are a trump, Miss
Fanchon I wish there were more girls like you."
Poor Fanchon flushed as pink as a rose. It was,
,,after all, such a very little thing, and how much
they were all making of it!" Why, some girls would
never have hesitated an instant, and what a sacri-
fice she had thought she was making !
Just then Jessie Cabot, in gauzy blue tulle, with

her yellow hair in a flying mist, drew Fanchon
into the dance, and who could stop to think any
longer of sacrifices or Italian girls or industrial
schools, while weaving mystic figures and whirling
madly down the room with Will Everett, and five
gay young couples following after ?
They said afterward, when they
talked it over,- "the girls" who
..crt ti.. nrikl: up Fanchon's little
rId.- lhaIn i! was the finest party
o. th, i.': .: .r. the very finest.
-.- TheI :id ,t still, after Eleanor
'. Bo..dt.-:h -ad beautiful monogram
i ,.:kets I,:.r :i\,:trs, and even after
'.'. Cauthnrire MA.rte actually had
Sriapha.-- n. with a wonderful
ne.k .altz*.hich he composed
'. .'' :ill) for the occasion.
S' F a rin:hon took none of the
i ::icdit to herself. She
S. id wish people would
S.. uop praising her.
i- The girl, Car-
S' lotta, had gone
"' to the pleasant
.- country school,
-r* and Fanchon
S would like the
whole thing to be
forgotten, and
.-never mentioned
"i4[. The queerest
.". part of the whole
S' affair was about old
Snaphausen. Some
S'" .ne had told him why
'~.F: F-nchon had given up
S' ha iag him, and he had
i"'nodded gravely and
-2-.-- angered "So?" He
had not minded the
broken engagement, and
h-i.I refused any com-
Spe-stion for it.
Cut at Catherine
Motte's party he played a new waltz, and Cather-
ine could not help pluming herself a trifle. It was
not every girl who had a delicious Snaphausen
waltz composed all in her honor.
"What do you call it, Herr Snaphausen? "
called out Will Everett, as he swept by with
Fanchon; have you named it yet ? "
The German beamed above his blinking glasses,
and nodded his shaggy head. "Ac/, yes," he an-
swered rhythmically, ach, yes; surely she haf a
name; she is called the 'Fanchon Waltzen!' So! "


"( ^1 '' p '

%- ',,',I

L y his lusty English appetite with a big dish of pasty,
followed by ale and "wardens" (as certain hard
ELIZABETH OF TUDOR: THE GIRL OF THE pears, used- chiefly for cooking, were called in
HERTFORD MANOR. those days), while the cautious Avery Mitchell,
j r eE eiEn oll5511) thU oa dI .

[Afterward Queen Elizabeth of Englnd ; tfle Good Queeen
A. ,. 1548.
THE iron-shod hoofs of the big gray courser
rang sharply on the frozen ground, as, beneath the
creaking boughs of the long-armed oaks, Launce-
lot Crue, the Lord Protector's fleetest courser-man,
galloped across the Hertford fells or hills, and
reined up his horse within the great gates of
Hatfield manor-house.
"From the Lord Protector," he said; and Master
Avery Mi::h'fll. -:h ici.dair., who had been closely
watching for this same courser-man for several
anxious hours, took from his hands a scroll, on
which was inscribed:
"To Avery .'a. i..'. feodary of the Wards in
Herts, at Hatfield Houtse. From the Lord Pro-
ector, THESE:"
And next, the courser-man, in secrecy, un-
screwed one of the bullion buttons on his buff
jerkin, and taking from it a scrap of paper, handed
this also to the watchful feodary. Then, his mis-
sion ended, he repaired to the buttery to satisfy

ulnllllg L1 e scrap o paper, rea :u
"In secrecy, THESE: Under guise of mummers place a half-
score good men and true in your Yule-tide maskyng. Well armed
and safely conditioned. They will be there who shall command.
Look for the green dragon of Wantley. On your allegiance. This
from ye wit who."
Scarcely had the feodary read, reread, and
then destroyed this secret and singular missive,
when the "Ho hollo i" of Her Grace the Prin-
cess's outriders rang on the. crisp December air,
and there galloped up to the broad door-way of
the manor-house a gayly costumed train of lords
and ladies, with huntsmen and falconers and yeo-
men following on behind. Central in the group,
flushed with her hard gallop through the wintry
air, a young girl of fifteen, tall and trim in figure,
sat her horse with the easy grace of a practiced
and confident rider. Her long velvet habit was
deeply edged with fur, and both kirtle and head-
gear were of a rich purple tinge, while from be-
neath the latter just peeped a heavy coil of sunny,
golden hair. Her face was fresh and fair, as
should be that of any young girl of fifteen, but
its expression was rather that of high spirits and

Copyright, 1884, by E. S. Brooks. All rights reserved.
fAn old English term for the guardian of "certain wards of the state,"-young persons under guardianship of the government






of heedless and impetuous moods than of simple
maidenly beauty.
"Ti. -. ii my lord," she cried, dropping her
bridle-rein into the hands of a waiting groom,
"'twas my race to-day, was it not ? Odds fish,
man !" she called out sharply to the attendant
groom; "be ye easier with Roland's bridle there.
One beast of his -- :n:- mettle were worth a score
VOL. XI.- 14.

of clumsy varlets like to you Well, said I not right,
my Lord Admiral; is not the race fairly mine, I
ask?" and, careless in act as in speech, she gave
the Lord Admiral's horse, as she spoke, so sharp a
cut with her riding-whip as to make the big brute
rear in sudden surprise, and almost unhorse its
rider, while an unchecked laugh came from its
fair tormentor.



"Good faith, Mistress," answered Sir Thomas
Seymour, the Lord High Admiral, gracefully swal-
lowing his exclamation of surprise, "your-lady-
ship hath fairly won, and, sure, hath no call to
punish both myself and my good Selim here by
such unwarranted chastisement. Will your grace
dismount ?"
And, vaulting from his seat, he gallantly ex-
tended his hand to help the young girl from her
horse ; while, on the same instant, another in her
train, a handsome young fellow of the girl's own
age, knelt on the frozen ground and held her
But this independent young maid would have
none of their courtesies. Ignoring the outstretched
hands of both the man and boy, she sprang lightly
from her horse, and, as she did so, with a sly and
sudden push of her dainty foot, she sent the kneel-
ing lad sprawling backward, while her merry peal
of laughter rang out as an accompaniment to his
"Without your help, my lords -without your
help, so please you both," she cried. "Why,
Dudley," she exclaimed, in mock surprise, as she
threw a look over her shoulder at the prostrate
boy, are you there ? Beshrew me, though, you
do look like one of goodman Roger's Dorking
cocks in the pultry yonder, so red and ruffled of
feather do you seem. There, see now, I do repent
me of my discourtesy. You, Sir Robert, shall
squire me to the hall, and Lord Seymour must
even content himself with playing the gallant to
good Mistress Ashley; and, leaning on the arm
of the now pacified Dudley, the. self-willed girl
tripped lightly up the entrance-steps. Self-willed
and thoughtless-even rude and hoydenish-we
may think her in these days of gentler manners
and more guarded speech. But those were less
refined and cultured times than these in which we
live; and the rough, uncurbed nature of Kinge
Henrye the.viij. of Most Famous Memorye," as
the old chronicles term the "bluff King Hal,"
re-appeared to a noticeable extent in the person of
his second child, the daughter of ill-fated Anne
Boleyn, "my ladye's grace" the Princess Eliza-
beth of England.
And yet we should be readier to excuse this im-
petuous young Princess of three hundred years ago
than were even her associates and enemies. For
enemies she had, poor child, envious and vindic-
tive ones, who sought to work her harm. Varied
and unhappy had her young life already been.
Born amid splendid hopes, in the royal palace
of Greenwich; called Elizabeth after that grand-
mother, the fair heiress of the house of York, whose
marriage to a prince of the house of Lancaster had
ended the long and cruel War of the Roses; she

had been welcomed with the peal of bells and the
boom of cannons, and christened with all the regal
ceremonial of King Henry's regal court. Then,
when scarcely three years old, disgraced by the
wicked murder of her mother, cast off and repu-
diated by her brutal father, and only received
again to favor at the christening of her baby
brother, passing her childish days in grim old
castles and a wicked court,- she found herself, at
thirteen, fatherless as well as motherless, and at
fifteen cast on her own resources, the sp6rt of
men's ambitions and of conspirators' schemes.
To-day the girl of fifteen, tenderly reared, shielded
from trouble by a mother's watchful love and a
father's loving care, can know but little of the
dangers that compassed this Princess of England,
the lady Elizabeth. Deliberately separated from
her younger brother, the King, by his unwise and
selfish counselors, hated by her elder sister, the
lady Mary, as the daughter of the woman who had
made her mother's life so miserable, she was, even
in her manor-home of Hatfield, where she should
have been most secure, in still greater jeopardy.
For this same Lord Seymour of Sudleye, who was
at once Lord High Admiral of England, uncle to
the King, and brother of Somerset, the Lord Pro-
tector, had by fair promises, and lavish gifts bound
to his purpose this defenseless, girl's only protect-
ors, Master Parry, her cofferer, or steward, and
Mistress Katherine Ashley, her governess. And
that purpose was to force the young Princess into
a marriage with himself, so as to help his schemes
of treason against the Lord Protector and get into
his own hands the care of the boy King and the
government of the realm. It was a bold plot, and,
if unsuccessful, meant attainder and death for high
treason; but Seymour, ambitious, reckless, and un-
principled, thought only of his own desires, and
cared little for the possible ruin into which he was
dragging the unsuspecting and orphaned daughter
of the King who hadbeen his ready friend and patron.
So matters stood at the period of our story, on
the eve of the Christmas festivities of 1548, as, on
the arm of her boy, escort, Sir Robert Dudley,
gentleman usher at King Edward's court and,
years after, the famous Earl of Leicester of Queen
Elizabeth's day, the royal maiden entered the hall
of Hatfield House. And, within the great hall,
she was greeted by Master Parry, her cofferer,
Master Runyon, her yeoman of the robes, and
Master Mitchell, the feodary. Then, with a low
obeisance, the feodary presented her the scroll
which had been brought him, post-haste, by Laun-
celot Crue, the courser-man.
"What, good Master Avery," exclaimed Eliza-
beth, as she ran her eye over the scroll, "you to
be Lord of Misrule and Master of the Revels t



1885.] HISTORIC GIRLS. 211

And by my Lord of Somerset's own appointing?
I am right glad to learn it."
And this is what she read:
"Imfprimis*: I give leave to Avery Mitchell, feodary, gentleman,
to be Lord of Misrule of all good orders, at the Manor of Hatfield,


during the twelve days of Yule-tide. And, also, I give free leave to
the said Avery Mitchel to command all and every person or persons
whatsoever, as well servants as others, to be at his command when-
soever he shall sound his trumpet or music, and to do him good
service, as though I were present myself, at their perils. I give full
power and authority to his lordship to break all locks, bolts, bars,
doors, and latches to come at all those who presume to disobey his
lordship's commands. God save the King. SOMERSET."

It was Christmas Eve. The great hall of Hat-
field House gleamed with the light of many
candles that flashed upon sconce and armor and
polished floor. Holly and mistletoe, rosemary and
bay, and all the decorations of an old-time Eng-
lish Christmas were tastefully
,y \\. arranged. A burst of laughter
:.'-- rang through the hall,
as through the ample
door-way, and down the
\ ,broad stair, trooped the
motley train of the Lord
of Misrule to open the
Christmas revels. Afierce
and ferocious looking fel-
low was he, with his great
green mustache and his
ogre-like face. His dress
was a gorgeous parti-col-
ored jerkin and half-hose,
.i f trunks, ruff, slouch-boots
of Cordova leather, and
high befeathered steeple
hat. His long staff, top-
ped with a fool's head,
cap and bells, rang loud-
ly on the floor, as, pre-
ceded by his diminutive
but pompous page, he
led his train around and
around the great hall,
lustily singing the cho-
S" Like Prince and King he leads
the ring:
Right merrily we go. Sing
hey-trix, trim-go-trix,
Under the mistletoe! "

A menagerie let loose
Sr or the most dyspeptic of
after-dinner dreams could
not be more bewildering
than was this motley train
of the Lord of Misrule.
Giants and dwarfs, drag-
ons and griffins, hobby-
horses and goblins, Robin
Hood and the Grand
Turk, bears and boars
THE LORD OF MISRULE." and fantastic animals that
never had a name, boys
and girls, men and women, in every imaginable
costume and device-around and around the hall
they went, still ringing out the chorus:
Sing hey-trix, trim-go-trix,
Under the mistletoe! "
Then, standing in the center of his court, the

*A Latin term signifying "in the first place," or to commence with," and used as the opening of legal or official directions.


Lord of Misrule bade his herald declare that from
Christmas Eve to Twelfth Night he was Lord
Supreme; that, with his magic art, he transformed
all there into children, and charged them, on their
fealty, to act only as such. I absolve them all
from wisdom," he said; I bid them be just wise
enough to make fools of themselves, and do decree
that none shall sit apart in pride and eke in self-
sufficiency to laugh at others; and then the fun
Off in stately Whitehall, in the palace of the
boy King, her brother, the revels were grander and
showier; but to the young Elizabeth, not yet
skilled in all the stiffness of the royal court, the
Yule-tide feast at Hatfield House brought pleasure
enough; and so, seated at her holly-trimmed vir-
ginal,-that great-great-grandfather of the piano
of to-day,-she, whose rare skill as a musician has
come down to us, would-when wearied with her
"prankes and japes"-"tap through" some fitting
Christmas carol, or that older:lay of the Yule-tide
STo shorten winter's sadness see where the folk with gladness,
Disguised, are all a-coming, right wantonly a-mumming,

"Whilst youthful sports are lasting, to feasting turn our fasting;
With revels and with wassails make grief and care our vassals,

The Yule-log had been noisily dragged in to
the firing," and as the big sparks raced up the
wide chimney, the boar's head and the tankard of
sack, the great Christmas candle and the Christmas
pie, were escorted around the room to the flourish
of trumpets and with welcoming shouts; the Lord
of Misrule, with a wave of his staff, was about to
give the order for all to unmask, when suddenly
there appeared in the circle a new character-a
great green dragon, as fierce and ferocious as well
could be, from his pasteboard jaws to his curling
canvas tail. The green dragon of Wantley Ter-
rified urchins backed hastily away from his horrible
jaws, and the Lord of Misrule gave a sudden and
visible start. The dragon himself, scarce waiting
for the surprise to subside, waved his paw for
silence, and said, in a'hollow, pasteboardy voice:
"Most noble Lord of Misrule, before your feast
commences and the masks are doff'd, may we not,
as that which should give good appetite to all,-
with your lordship's permit and that of my lady's
grace,-tell each some wonder-filling tale as suits
the goodly time of Yule ? Here be stout masters
can tell us strange tales of fairies and goblins, or,
perchance, of the foreign folk with whom they have
trafficked in Calicute and Affrica, Barbaria, Perew,
and other diverse lands and countries over-sea.
And after that they have ended, then will I essay a

tale that shall cap them all, so past belief shall it
The close of the dragon's speech, of course,
made them all the more curious; and the lady
Elizabeth did but speak for all when she said, I
pray you, good Sir Dragon, let us have your tale
first. We have had enow of Barbaria and Perew.
If that yours may be so wondrous, let us hear it
even now, and then may we decide."
"As your lady's grace wishes," said the dragon.
" But methinks when you have heard me through,
you would that it had been the last or else not told
at all."
Your lordship of Misrule and my lady's grace
must know," began the dragon, that my story,
though a short, is a startling one. Once on a time
there lived a King, who, though but a boy, did, by
God's grace, in talent, industry, perseverance, and
knowledge, surpass both his own years and the
belief of men. And because he was good and
gentle alike and conditioned beyond the measure
of his years, he was the greater prey to the wicked
wiles of traitorous men. And one such, high in
the King's court, thought to work him ill; and to
carry out his ends.did wantonly awaken seditious
and rebellious intent even among the King's kith
and kin, whom he traitorously sought to wed,-
his royal and younger sister,-nay, start not, my
lady's grace! exclaimed the dragon quickly, as
Elizabeth turned upon him a look of sudden and
haughty surprise. "All is known! And this is
the ending of my wonderous tale. My lord Sey-
mour of Sudleye is this day taken for high treason
and haled* to the Tower. They of your own house-
hold are held as accomplice to the Lord Admiral's
wicked intent, and you, Lady Elizabeth Tudor,
are by order of the council to be restrained in
prison wards in this your manor of Hatfield until
such time as the King's Majesty and the honorable
council shall decide. This on your allegiance "
The cry of terror that the dragon's words awoke
died into silence as the lady Elizabeth rose to her
feet, flushed with anger.
- "Is this a fable, or the posy of a ring, Sir
Dragon?" she said, sharply. "Do you come to
try or tempt me, or is this perchance but some
part of my Lord of Misrule's Yule-tide mumming?
'Sblood, sir; only cravens sneak behind masks to
strike and threaten. Have off your disguise, if you
be true man; or, by my word as Princess of
England, he shall bitterly rue the day who dares
to befool the daughter of Henry Tudor "
"As you will, then, my lady," said the dragon.
"Do you doubt me now?" and, tearing off his
pasteboard wrapping, he stood disclosed before
them all as the grim Sir Robert Trywhitt, chief
examiner of the Lord Protector's council. Move

* Haled dragged, forcibly conveyed.



not at your peril," he said, as a stir in the throng
seemed to indicate the presence of some brave
spirits who would have shielded their young Prin-
cess. "Master Feodary, bid your varlets stand
to their arms."
And at a word from Master Avery Mitchell,
late Lord of Misrule, there flashed from beneath
the cloaks of certain tall figures on the circle's edge
the halberds of the guard. The surprise was com-
plete. The lady Elizabeth was a prisoner in her
own manor-house, and the Yule-tide revels had
reached a sudden and sorry ending.
And yet, once again, under this false accusation,
did the hot spirit of the Tudors flame in the face
and speech of the Princess Elizabeth.
Sir Robert Trywhitt," cried the brave young
girl, "these be but lying rumors that do go against
my honor and my fealty. God knoweth they be
shameful slanders, sir; for the which, besides the
desire I have to see the King's Majesty, I pray you
let me also be brought straight before the court,
that I may disprove these perjured tongues."
But her appeal was not granted. For months
she was kept close prisoner at Hatfield House,
subjected daily to most rigid cross-examination
by Sir Robert Trywhitt for the purpose of impli-
cating her, if possible, in the Lord Admiral's plot.
But all in vain; and at last even Sir Robert gave
up the attempt, and wrote to the council that the
lady Elizabeth hath a good wit, and nothing is
gotten of her but by great policy."
Lord Seymour of Sudleye was beheaded for
treason, on Tower Hill, and others, implicated in

his plots, were variously punished; but even
" great policy" can not squeeze a lie out of the
truth, and Elizabeth was finally declared free of
the stain of treason.
Experience, which is a hard teacher, often brings
to light the best that is in us. It was so in this
case. For, as one writer says: "The long and
harassing ordeal disclosed the splendid courage,
the reticence, the rare discretion, which were to
carry the Princess through many an awful peril in
the years to come. Probably no event of her
early girlhood went so far toward making a woman
of Elizabeth as did this miserable affair."
Within ten years thereafter, the lady Elizabeth
ascended the throne of England. Those ten years
covered many strange events, many varying fort-
unes-the death of her brother, the boy King
Edward, the sad tragedy of Lady Jane Grey,
Wyatt's rebellion, the tanner's revolt, and all the
long horror of the reign of Bloody Mary." You
may read of all this in history and may see how,
through it all, the young Princess grew still more
firm of will, more self-reliant, wise, and strong,
developing all those peculiar qualities that helped
to make her England's greatest Queen and one
of the most wonderful women in history. But
through all her long and most historic life,-a
life of over seventy years, forty-five of which were
passed as England's Queen,-scarce any incident
made so lasting an impression upon her as when,
in Hatfield House, the first shock of the false
charge of treason fell upon the thoughtless girl of
fifteen in the midst of the Christmas revels.

(Recollections ofa Page in the United States Senate.)


THE members of the House of Representatives
are chosen dire.::ily by the people, and -no person
can be a representative who shall not have
attained to the age of twenty-five years, and been
seven years a citizen of the United States, and who
shall not, when elected, be an inhabitant of that
State in which he shall be chosen." Their total
number is regulated by statute of Congress, but
they must be distributed among the States in
proportion to population. The Constitution, how-
ever, provides that the ratio shall not exceed

one representative for every thirty thousand per-
sons, but that "each State shall have at least
one representative." In the First Congress, which
assembled on the 4th of March, 1789, the thirteen
original States were represented in the House
by sixty-five members. This representation was
fixed by the Constitution, until the taking of a
census. The first census was that of 1790; and
in 1792, Vermont and Kentucky having been
meanwhile admitted into the Union, an apportion-
ment act was passed, which increased the number
of representatives to one hundred and five, or one
for every thirty-three thousand persons. Since
then, every ten years, a census has been taken,

* Copyright, x884, by Edmund Alton. All rights reserved.


the population of the country ascertained, and
other enumerations and apportionments have been
made. The States, the people, and their rep-
resentatives have increased in number, until
now, under the tenth and latest census (that of
1880), 49,371,340 inhabitants, comprising the
"representative population" of the country, scat-
tered throughout thirty-eight States, are repre-
sented by three hundred and twenty-five members
of the House,-a ratio of one representative to
every one hundred and fifty-two thousand inhabi-
tants.* New York, with a little over five million
inhabitants, heads the list with thirty-four repre-
sentatives; Pennsylvania, with over four million,
has twenty-eight; and so it tapers toward a
point where we find Colorado, Oregon, Delaware,
and Nevada, with populations rangingin the order
named from two hundred thousand to sixty-five
thousand, and with one representative each.


For the election of its thirty-four representa-
tives, the legislature of New York has divided the
area of the State into thirty-four parts, each "con-
taining as nearly as practicable an equal number of
inhabitants." These divisions are called Congres-
sional districts, and the voters, or electors, of each
district are entitled to choose one person to repre-
sent them in the House. A similar division is made
by other States having populations which entitle
them to two or more representatives. Where a
representation of only one is given, as in the case
of Nevada, the whole State is practically a district.
On a specified day, every alternate year, Con-
gressional elections are held in each State,t and
every person who, by the law of his State, is quali-
fied as an elector "of the most numerous branch
of the State legislature," is entitled to vote. This
is done by going to one of the "polls," or voting-
place, and depositing in a box, in charge of elec-
tion officers, a slip of paper bearing the written or
printed name of the candidate whom he wishes for
representative. These slips are termed "ballots,"
and the box into which they are dropped the
"ballot-box." The voting begins at a designated
hour in the morning, and ceases at sunset or other
stated time in the evening, when the polls are
closed, the ballots are counted, and the man whose
name appears on the greatest number of them cast
in the Congressional district is declared elected

as the representative in Congress of the people of
that district.

The terms of the representatives begin at twelve
o'clock on the 4th of March of every odd-numbered
year (such as 1883 or 1885), and end at twelve
o'clock on the 4th day of March of the second year
following. This period of two years is termed a
"Congress," and a Congress is divided into "ses-
sions." There is one regular session every year,
commencing on the first Monday of December, thus
making two regular sessions in a Congress, known
as the "long session" and the "short session";
and as the President of the United States "may,"
in the language of the Constitution, on extraordi-
nary occasions convene both Houses or either of
them," there are frequently three sessions in a
Congress. At the expiration of a Congress, the
terms of all of the members of the House come to
an end, and so the House of Representatives itself,
as a body, remains out of existence until reorgan-
ized by the convening of the members of (to use a
popular expression) the "next" or "new House.
But it is not necessarily "new," so far as faces
are concerned; for many of the members of the
"old" or "last" House are generally re-elected.
The desire for re-election and the power of the
people to send other men to the House, have a
tendency to keep the law-makers on their good
behavior. The present Congress, which is the
forty-eighth since the establishment of our present
form of government, will end on the 4th of March
next. The great voting done throughout the
country during the past autumn months was for
the election of representatives to the Forty-ninth
Congress, as well as for a President and Vice-Presi-
dent of the United States.
At the opening of the first session of every Con-
gress, the newly elected representatives assemble
in their hall, and from their number immediately
select their presiding officer, or Speaker. t In ad-
dition to the formidable power which belongs to
that high station, the Speaker retains his ordinary
privileges as a representative. A "Speakership
contest," as the struggle between the rival candi-
dates is termed, is often a very exciting and always
an interesting political event. Upon his election, he
takes an oath (administered by one of the mem-
bers) by which he pledges himself to support the
Constitution of the United States, and to faithfully
discharge the duties of his office. Thereupon, hav-

The eight organized Territories and their solitary delegates are not embraced in these figures. The total population of the United
States (not including Alaska, the Indian Territory, wild Indians," etc.) is 50,155,783, according to the last Census Report. The popu-
lation of the eight Territories and the District of Columbia is 784,443.
tThe Congressional elections are not, however, as they should be, uniform as to time throughout the United States. Ohio, for
example, chose her representatives to the Forty-Ninth Congress in October last, while nearly all of the other States did their Congressional
voting in November, in connection with that for President
SThe term "Speaker" is borrowed from the name given to the presiding officer of the House of Commons of Great Britain.



ing gone through the formality of thanking his
associates for the honor conferred upon him, he
administers to them a similar oath. The next step
is for the representatives to appoint the clerical
and other officers necessary to assist them in their
proceedings, and then to choose their own seats
in the Hall of Representatives. And, having at-
tended to all these matters,-having selected a
Speaker to preside over their deliberations and
keep them quiet, having taken the oath of office,
and having installed their corps of assistants into
comfortable positions, and ensconced themselves
in cane-seated chairs behind light-colored, plain-
looking desks,- the members are full-fledged Con-
gressmen, and the House of Representatives exists
once more as a "body," and is ready to roll up its
legislative sleeves and go to work.


The senators are elected in a different and
much simpler manner. They are chosen by the
legislatures of the respective States, instead of
directly by the votes of the people. Each State is
entitled to two senators, but no person can be a
senator, unless he is thirty years of age, of nine
years' citizenship, and an inhabitant of the State
when elected. The number of senators is unalter-
able, except by the admission of new States. Multi-
ply the number of States at any given time by two,
and you have the number of senators at that time.
There is a subtle distinction between a senator and
a representative as shown in the distinct modes
of election. The two senators from New York,
for instance, represent that State as a political
unit or entity-in other words, in her sovereign
capacity as a State. (I know this is a puzzler,
but I gave you fair warning!) The thirty-four
representatives represent the people of New York
as so many individuals in the entire republic.
You will thus see that ifi the Senate, one State is
as potent as another,-they are all "peers," or
"equals"; while in the House, the power of a
State is substantially in proportion to the number
of its, inhabitants.

The senators hold office for six years, and their
elections are so arranged that the terms of one-
third of the members expire with each Congress.
It is possible for the House of Representatives to
be composed entirely of new members, ignorant
of the difference between a "call of the House" and
a "motion to adjourn." Such a thing could not
happen in regard to the Senate, as only one-third
of its membership can be changed at a time. This,
then, forms another distinction between the two

Houses. The Senate is a continuous body. It
never dies. It is, to all intents, immortal. The
House, as I have explained, is short-lived. Its
successor is, in the light of the Constitution, an
altogether new creation, possessing an entirely
different soul, but endowed with the authority
exercised by the "late lamented"-the House
immediately preceding it.
In Great Britain, the legislative body which cor-
responds to the Senate as the Upper House is
the House of Lords; but most of the peers hold
office for life and by right of birth or favor of the
Crown. They are "hereditary legislators," and
the people have nothing to say in the matter. The
bright little son of a senator evidently thought the
Senate was also an hereditary institution; for, when
asked what he intended to be on reaching man-
hood, he mournfully answered: "Well, I 'd like
to be a hack-driver, but I s'pose I '11 have to be
a senator!"
The Vice-President, who presides over the Sen-
ate, and who, together with the President, is elected
by the people of the United States, takes no part
in its debates. He can only vote in the event of a
tie; in that case he may determine the question by
his "casting-vote." He, like all the senators,
" qualifies for his office by taking the usual oath,
and, with its officers, the Senate is thus serenely
Yet one other feature is essential to put the two
bodies into thorough working order, and without
it little progress in legislation would be inade. In
order that every measure upon which the action
of Congress is or may be desired shall be prop-
erly examined, the senators and representatives
are divided into numerous cliques, or groups,
styled Committees," from the fact that to them
certain matters are committed," or referred, by
the respective bodies to which they belong. The
committees of the House are appointed by the
Speaker, one Congressman being sometimes a
member of several committees. Those of the
Senate are appointed by that body itself, and not
by the Vice-President. In view of the important
duties performed by these little councils, this
right of the Speaker to form them will give
you an idea of the influence which he exerts in
public affairs. There are over forty regular or
"standing" committees of the House, the largest
numbering fifteen members, including the chair-
man; and about thirty committees of the Senate,
the largest consisting of eleven senators, and the
smallest, of three. There is thus a regular com-
mittee for nearly every class of legislative subjects
likely to require the attention of either House; and
special, or select, committees are constantly being

* See, on these various points, the Constitution, Article I., Sections 2, 3, etc.


established. Most important measures undergo the to an executive department for information, taking
rigid examination of the appropriate committees part in the debates of the respective houses, writing
before being considered by either branch of Con- letters to constituents, and transacting infinite odds


ONE OF THE THORNS OF SENATORIAL LIFE.-A dissatisfied constituent: Well, Senator, how you could'a' talked about that meas-
ure the way you talked about it before election, an' then 'a' voted on that measure the way you did after election, is to me rather
considerable of an enigmy "
gress in full session. When the members of a comn- and ends of business until dusk. And when they
mittee report against or in favor of a particular mat- go home in the evening, they are not always al-
ter, the house to which they belong are inclined to lowed to rest. They are bothered by dissatisfied
agree to what they recommend, since they know constituents; they are besieged by strangers and
that the committeemen have specially studied the friends, one wanting this done, another that, a
merits and demerits of the question. The commit- third something else, until, wearied and exhausted,
tees meet in elegantly furnished, frescoed rooms, they sink into a restless sleep, and dream hideous
built for their comfort arid convenience, and pro- visions of the coming day.
vided with special clerks to record their doings. Yet there is another side to the picture. They each
Their meetings are sometimes open to the public, receive five thousand dollars ayearand perquisites,*
but generally secret; and, as even a Congressman to say nothing of the honor of writing "M.C." and
can not be in two places at the same time, and as U. S. S." after their names; they are "distin-
he should not absent himself from the sessions of guished guests" wherever they go; they are invited
his house without "leave," committee-service is to all levees and receptions, to all festivals and
irksome as well as important. amusements; they are banqueted by the President
It is an error to suppose that the law-makers and entertained by Cabinet Ministers; and they are
have nothing more to do than to attend the ordi- welcome to every species of domestic and foreign
nary sessions of the Senate or House, and draw hospitality, from a charity-ball to a german at the
their pay. Some of them are models of industry,- legation, where they may move solemnly through
going to the Capitol early in the morning, holding the figures of the stately minuet, or dance to the
committee-meetings foran hour or two,darting off livelier music of a cotillion and Virginia reel.
In addition to their stated salary, they are entitled to traveling expenses," known as mileage," because computed by the distance
between their homes and the city of Washington; they receive a certain allowance of newspapers and stationery free, as also copies of
all public documents published under their authority-from an elaborate medical history of several huge volumes to a "Congressional
Directory "; they get seeds from the Agricultural Department and flowers from the Botanical Gardens; and they have other privileges and
honors which I shall not detail at present. The Senators have recently voted themselves "private secretaries," much to the vexation of
the members of the House, who would like to have such luxuries, also, but do not dare to take that liberty with the public funds.
the members of the House, who would llke to have such luxuries, also, but do not dare to take that liberty with file public funds.





Altogether, their careers are decidedly agreeable,
and the average Congressman would gladly serve
his country for life, and "nominate his bones" to
fill the vacancy occasioned by his death.



CONGRESS, while the grandest tribunal on the
American continent, if not on the globe, is not the
sole legislative authority in this country. The
States have local legislatures, which are vested
with exclusive power as to certain subjects; Con-
gress, on the other hand, has exclusive jurisdiction
in regard to other affairs; and then there is a
third class of matters, respecting which both State
and National law-makers may legislate, with this
qualification,-that should the State laws conflict
with the National, the former must give way to
the latter. The Constitution expressly declares
what Congress may do; and, as it can do nothing
not permitted by the Constitution, I refer you to

abroad, to regulate commerce with foreign nations
and among the States, to coin money, to establish
post-offices and post-roads, to create courts for the
enforcement of Federal statutes,-in brief, to
make all laws necessary for the protection and
maintenance of the integrity and honor of the
Union, and the welfare of the people as a nation,
- these are within the powers of Congress.
The varieties of business with which it has to
deal reach from the sublime to the ridiculous,-
from a declaration of war against a threatening
foe, involving the sacrifice of priceless lives, to a
law appropriating a few dollars out of the Treasury
for the loss of a blanket in the Government service.
The proceedings of the Senate and House are
methodical; otherwise, with so many Congress-
men, it would be almost impossible to accomplish
anything at all toward advancing the interests of
the nation. To restrain their proceedings from
an excess of talk, as well as to prevent undue haste
in legislation, numerous rules are established by
each house and rigidly enforced.
The daily routine of the Senate, as I observed

............__ .......

ONE OF THE ROSES OF SENATORIAL LIFE.-" He is invited to all receptions, and is 'a distinguished guest' wherever he goes."
that instrument for particulars as to its power. To it, was very simple. After prayers by the chaplain,
raise money to defray the expenses of the general the next thing was the reading of the journal of the
Government, to provide navies and armies useful previous day by one of the clerks. After that, the
in resenting insults or resisting danger at home or Vice-President would lay before the Senate messages



from the President of the United States and other
papers upon his table. Then he would announce
petitions and memorials to be in order. Of
course, the people of the United States having
sent these men to Congress to make laws for them,
have a right to tell them what laws they wish en-
acted, and the first amendment to the Constitution
prohibits Congress from interfering with this right.
All the memorials having been presented, reports
of committees, bills, and other papers were sub-
mitted. For the presentation of these matters, the
first hour of every day was set apart. After the
" morning hour," the Senate generally devoted
itself to the consideration of those measures which
lead to the great debates of Congress, and result
in the enactment of important laws. As you may
wish to know something about the course of legis-
lation, I shall try to enlighten you.
Let us take a dainty illustration. Suppose all of
you young folk should suddenly acquire a keen ap-
petite for honey; that you could, in fact, eat noth-
ing else; and that you should prefer the honey
produced abroad by foreign industry to that of the
busy bees of our own land. Now, the gathering
of the honey from the hives, putting it into cases,
or extracting it from the comb, and bottling,
together with its transportation over thousands of
milqoare items which involve considerable ex-
pense. Then, too, the farmer, or producer, is en-
titled to some compensation in the way of interest
on the money which he has invested in bees and
other features of his business. The wholesale
merchant, who buys it from the producer, the
retail dealer, who buys it from the wholesale mer-
chant, each adds to its cost a reasonable amount
by way of profit. All these matters enhance its nat-
ural value,-or, in simpler words, make the honey
worth more to you than it would actually be worth
to you if you could obtain it directly from the work-
shop of the bees. In addition to these, however,
there is another thing that seriously affects the price.
Money is required to run the ponderous machin-
ery of government. The legislators, the President
and other executive officers, the judges, the sol-
diers, sailors, and miscellaneous servants of the
people do not work for mere love. They must
be paid for their services in money. The noble
volunteers who, to protect their country's flag,
risked death upon the battle-field, and returned to
their homes crippled, wrecked in health, disabled
for work, deserve something better than empty
hand-shakings on the part of the Union. The
officers of government can not all do their work in
the open air, nor can commerce navigate over rocks
and reefs. Public buildings must be erected, har-
bors and rivers improved, light-houses built. These
can not be had for nothing. Then there is the

Indian. We stole his lands. He expects us to
pay his board. We have agreed to do it.
These and other matters connected with the man-
agement of national affairs cost millions of dollars
annually. How is the money to be raised? The
Constitution points out to Congress the way-
Taxes! Taxes *
There are two kinds of taxes-direct and indirect.
While a handsome yearly income is derived from
sales of public lands and from other sources, the
Government depends for its hundreds of millions
upon indirect taxation. One species of indirect
taxation is what is styled the Internal Revenue,"
which taxes domestic evils, like the liquor trade,
and yields the Government an immense sum.
But its favorite and most profitable "indirect"
device is the "Tariff." Upon certain products
and manufactures brought to our shores from
other lands, it lays a duty," or tax, and that
duty must be paid to the proper Government
officials (called "customs-officers or "custom-
house officers ") before the things can be sold in
this country. On every pound of figs brought
to this country, the Government, through its
"customs-officers," collects two cents. Slates
and slate-pencils from abroad must pay thirty cents
for every dollar of their worth. When you buy
these things, remember you are paying much more
than actual values. A part of the excess goes into
the treasury of the United States as a "duty," or
"indirect tax"; for, of course, the dealer who
imports these articles includes this extra cost
in the price charged the purchaser. You little
folk have perhaps no idea how much you con-
tribute every year to defray the expenses of
our grand republic! Dolls and toys not made
in this country must pay thirty-five cents on every
dollar of their value; foreign beef and pork are
taxed one cent per pound; vinegar, seven and a
half cents per gallon; oats, ten cents a bushel;
mackerel, one cent per pound. Bonnets, hats, and
hoods, for men, women, and children; canes and
walking-sticks; brooms, combs, jewelry, precious
stones, musical instruments of all kinds, playing-
cards, paintings, and statuary,-these are also
roughly jostled by this uncouth law.
I should state, however, that all articles from
abroad are not taxed. There is what is known as
the "Free List," on which are placed certain im-
ports exempt from duty, such as nux vomica, assa-
fcetida, charcoal, divi-divi, dragon's blood, Bologna
sausages, eggs, fossils, and other articles But the
great bulk of important staples used in every-day
life does not come within this favored class. Chem-
ical products; earthenware and glassware; metals;
wood and woodenwares; sugar; tobacco; provis-
ions; cotton and cotton goods; hemp, jute, and

*Constitution, Article I., Sec. 8, Cl. x.





flax goods; wool and woolens; silk and silk
goods; books, papers, etc. ; and sundries,-thus
reads the Tariff List.
This is what is called "Protection." That is,
putting heavy duties on foreign articles and com-
modities raises the price of those foreign articles,
and compels people to buy, instead, those made
and produced by American industry.
The present tariff imposes upon foreign honey a
duty of twenty cents a gallon. We will say that
you consider this a dreadful tax on such a neces-
sary," and that you would, under the circumstances
supposed, try to have it removed. Accordingly,
you would prepare and sign a petition to Congress,
setting forth the hardship of this extra expense
imposed upon you as purchasers and consumers"
of the commodity and asking that the tax be
abolished. Now, let us further suppose that I repre-
sent your district in Congress. (I say, "suppose.")
Very well. You would send that petition to
me, as your representative, that I might present it
to the House. Having been presented, it would be
referred to a committee for examination. As the
removal of the duty would reduce the revenue of the
Government, the petition would be sent to the Com-
mittee on Ways and Means. This committee, which
is a very important one and consists of thirteen of
the ablest members of the House, would read your
petition and examine into the matter. There
would then be two obstacles to overcome.
In the first place, the committee, or a majority
of the members, might not wish to reduce the
receipts of the national treasury without strong
reasons being shown, and might invite you to ex-
plain the urgency of your demand. In the second
place, the removal of the duty would not only affect
the revenue of the Government, but would destroy
the monopoly and cut down the profits of American
honey-producers or dealers, because the foreign
farmers and merchants would thus be enabled to
sell their honey at least twenty cents per gallon
less than they can sell it under the present state
of affairs. In other words, it would provoke
" competition," and the price would probably fall
far below that now charged at an ordinary grocery-
store. The American dealers would, naturally
enough, oppose your designs, and request a hear-
ing before the committee. Each side might employ
lawyers to speak in its behalf, or might appear and
personally argue the matter, according as the
committee might prefer. But there would hardly
be room for preference between children clamoring

for honey and lawyers clamoring for fees. In
either event, the committee would run a great risk
of being talked to death.
Let us assume, however, that they survive the
ordeal and become convinced that the duty, while
a protection against competition and small profits
to a comparativelyfew oldAmerican "producers," is
an injustice to the myriad of young American con-
sumers," and that the lawshouldbe repealed. They
would then prepare a "bill," somewhat as follows:

"Be it enacted by the Senate and House of Rep-
resentatives of the United States of America in
Congress assembled, That from and after the
passage of this act, the importation of honey shall
be exempt from customs duties; and all laws
inconsistent herewith are hereby repealed."

One of the members of the committee would
then report that bill to the House.* Ordinarily,
that would be the last of it. But, in order to finish
this illustration, let me imagine you to be hanging
between life and death,- famishing for honey,-
and yet unable to buy it at the price charged. Sup-
pose, for this or other reasons, the committee should
ask that a day be assigned for its consideration,
and that the House should acquiesce.
Adopting the present tense, let us further
assume that the day has arrived. The bill having
been read a first and.second time,f the fight begins
in earnest, and the members of the House opposed
to it and those in its favor argue and wrangle and
shout "Free Trade" and "Protection" for a
month, as they did on a certain tariff bill which
they did not pass last year. I, of course, cham-
pion your interests with all my well-known elo-
quence,-now putting your opponents to sleep by
a dose of statistics, now lashing them into activity
with my sesquippdalian sentences of wrath. (By
the way, do your dictionaries need re-binding?)
Some of the enemies to the bill are willing to
reduce the tax, but not to entirely remove it, and
they suggest an amendment lowering the duty from
twenty to ten cents a gallon. Other enemies wish
the bill to "lie on the table" or be "indefinitely
postponed." The House may organize itself into a
" Committee of the Whole House on the State of
the Union," a proceeding usual in the considera-
tion of public bills and business, as distinguished
from a "Committee of the Whole House" for the
consideration of private business.

Petitions or bills may be presented or introduced in either House. There is but one exception to this rule. The Constitution pre-
scribes that "all bills for raising revenue shall originate in the House of Representatives."
t Every bill must be read three times before being passed. These readings are trumpet-notes of warning. They notify the members of
the measure before the House, in order that any of them who think it an improper measure, may resist its passage, and thus prevent
underhand legislation. As a general thing, a bill is read "in full" only once, the other two readings being "by title," which means that
the title only is read.



But let us hurry over all formalities and compli-
cated motions, and suppose all the efforts of its ene-
mies to be vain. The question is at length asked:
" Shall the bill be engrossed and read a third
time ?" This main," or previous question is
ordered, and the bill is accordingly read a third time
by its title, unless some member should wish it read
in full." Then comes the question, "Shall the
bill pass ?" Again it is open to debate, but not
to amendment (or change.)t Then another "pre-
vious question is ordered, and a vote taken on the
passage of the bill. There are several ways ofvoting,
but in this case we will suppose that the clerk calls
the "yeas and nays" (although it will consume
half an hour), in order that every member may
record himself as either against or for the bill.
We will suppose that a majority votes in its favor.
The bill is now passed, the title is again read and
stands, unless amended. Thereupon, a motion is
made to "reconsider" the vote last taken; and it
is also moved that the motion to reconsider be laid
upon the table. This is a technical formality,
which "clinches" the action of the body. The
last motion is agreed to, and the bill is now beyond
the reach of danger from the House. The clerk of
the House then "certifies" the bill, notes on it the
date of its passage, and takes it (together with my
petition and the other papers in the case) to the
Senate. In the Senate it is referred to the Com-
mittee on Finance, reported back, argued, and
(we shall assume) passed. The secretary of the
Senate carries it to the House and notifies that
body of its passage by the Senate. It has now
become an "Act of Congress," and is enrolled on
parchment by the clerk of the House (it being a
House bill), and examined by the Joint Committee
on Enrolled Bills, who see that no errors have
been made by the enrolling clerks, and who report
to each House. Then it is signed by the Speaker
and the President of the Senate, the clerk of the
House certifies that it originated in that body, and
a member of the joint committee takes it .to
the President of the United States, who, having
ten days in which to reflect, finally thinks it a
good Act and signs it. It is at last a law. The
President notifies the House of his approval; the
parchment is deposited among the public archives
of the State Department; the law is duly published,
under the direction of the Secretary of State, as a
statute at large of the United States; foreign "pro-

ducers," and merchants see it; competition at once
begins, and I am now prepared to accept your kind
invitation to a delicious honey-feast.
This is a rough and hurried sketch of the travels
of a measure on its road to enactment as a law. I
have not stopped to consider its chances of defeat.
(I) The Senate Committee might have pigeon-
holed it or not reported it back to the Senate.
Or (2) a majority of the Senate might have voted
against its enactment, and thus have killed it out-
right. (3) They might have amended it, the House
might have refused to concur in the amendments,
joint conference committees of the two Houses
might have been appointed to reconcile the Houses
by some sort of compromise, either House might
have refused to agree to any report of such com-
mittee and insisted upon its position, and the disa-
greement (or "dead-lock") might have sealed the
fate of the bill. On the other hand, one of the
Houses might have receded from its position, and
the bill might have passed with or without amend-
ment. Again, it would have been an Act. But (4)
the President of the United States might have
objected to it, and forbidden it, by his "veto," from
becoming a law. In that event, he would have re-
turned it to the House with his objections; and
unless the House and Senate, each by a two-thirds
vote $ of the members present, should have again
passed it over the veto," the measure would have
been defeated.
It is unnecessary to weary you by detailing the
many difficulties an objectionable measure would
encounter. I have endeavored, however, to show
you that there are safeguards thrown around the
proceedings of Congress for the purpose of pre-
venting improper legislation from being rushed
through without, at least, warning the people of it
and giving them an opportunity to protest. An
explanation of the rules established by both Houses
to this end would fill a large volume. Some of
them are abstruse and apparently incomprehen-
sible, but-you may rest assured that they all have-
a wise object in view-namely, to protect the peo-
ple of the country from the enactment of bad laws.
If, therefore, a harsh or unjust measure should at
any time be enacted by Congress, you will under-
stand the reason and know the moral to be drawn'
from it-that a majority of the law-makers have
not done their duty, and that their places should
be filled by better men.

'To be continued.)
The engrossing, strictly, should be done by the clerk before further proceedings are had; but, to economize time, this theory is not
carried out in Congressional practice.
t An exception to the rule, It is never too late to mend."
It requires only a majority of each House to pass a bill- one more than half the number of members present will suffice. To pass it
"over the veto" requires a twuo-thirds vote, which vote, the Constitution declares, shall always be taken by the yeas and nays; "and the'
names of the persons voting for and against the bill shall be entered on the journal of each House respectively."






STERN Master Munchem, rod in hand, stole out of school one day,
And suddenly appeared before some boys, who 'd run away,
All sitting on the meadow wall. Aha!" he cried; and then
He stood and grimly counted them.- He found that there were ten.

He laid his hand upon his heart and looked up at the sky.
My lads," sonorously he said, "of course you know that I"-
And then he paused to clear his throat, while the end boy of the line,
Sly Tonmmy Dobbs, crept softly off.- (And then there were but nine.)

( x
Cr 1, '.
8 t




"Of course," the master recommended, "you
know that I am here"-
He paused again and with his pen he scratched
behind his ear.
Meanwhile, fat Peleg Perkins had concluded
not to wait,
And followed Tommy Dobbs's lead.-(And then
there were but eight.)


"-''; '. .-,

_W c.,;. ,

Of course, as I was saying, you know I 'm
here to teach"-
Here Master Munchem once again paused
gravely in his speech,
And knit his brows abstractedly, still gazing
toward the heaven.
So small Giles Jenkins scampered off.-(And
then there were but seven.)

"Ahem!" pursued the master. "As I observed
just now,
Of course you know I 'm here to teach the
young idea how"-
And here he stopped to wipe his brow. Lank
Obadiah Hicks
Chose this occasion to depart.-(And then there
were but six.)


" In short, I 'm here to teach the young idea
how -to shoot."
Here he ceased gazing at the sky and looked
down at his boot.
Then jolly Jonas Doolittle, he made one reck-
less dive
And took himself out of the line.-(And then
there were but five.)

I1YYa 'I, I



" Therefore," the master hastened on, "it is en-
tirely plain"-
Here he took off his spectacles and put them
on again;
While another of his hearers, gaping Maximil- -.
ian More, ...- -, --
Dropped down and vanished out of sight.-- -
(And then there were but four.)---

" 'T is clearly plain" (the speech went on) that
you must understand "-
And now the master drew his rod four times
across his hand; .
Whereat wise Solon Simmons ran and hid
behind a tree, "
Unwilling longer to remain.-(And then there
were but three.)
Must understand, in such a painful case as this,
what must "-
He struck his pantaloons a blow that raised a
cloud of dust,
In which another urchin quickly disappeared
'. from view,
''i. Sedate Benoni Butterworth.-(And then there
'i were but two.)

In such a painful case as this, what must and
shall be done I"
The master looked up at the boys. Odds,
'':-z ooks The ten were one!
,-i' i '' So he straightway fell on sleepy Toby Tinkham
S- there and then,
.' And gave him such a lesson as might well
suffice for ten.

*# ,r"
.. *I-----U
*2- 7-'I\ _


~ ..
I ~-~




PROBABLY no animal excites so much wonder
and astonishment as the elephant, the largest of
living land animals. Its enormous size, its re-
markable intelligence, and its great age-even
in captivity sometimes reaching to one hundred
and thirty years-seem to place it above other
animals in popular estimation; and, as shown in
the case of the now famous Jumbo, the larger the
elephant is the more curiosity and interest does it
Jumbo, however, is a very small affair when
compared with some of the elephants that roamed
the earth in earlier times. Even the mammoth,
that existed when our forefathers were living in
caves and were clothed in skins, could have raised
and tossed him high in air; yet the great mam-
moth itself was a pigmy compared with the huge
animals that preceded it, and was, indeed, much
smaller than many of the elephants of a still earlier
Though in modern days we look to Africa and
Asia for the elephant, in those ancient times Amer-
ica had its droves that wandered over our present
homes with other strange: animals that have long
since passed away. The great mastodon wandered
over New York State in vast herds. Where New-
burgh now stands, a fine specimen has been found,
while similar remains have been unearthed at Mt.
Holly,Vermont; and at New Britain, and Cheshire,
in Connecticut. Another and smaller species of
mastodon, known as the American elephant, ranged
over those sections of the continentnowbounded
by Georgia, Texas, and Missouri on the south,
Canada on the north, and Oregon and California
on the west, and was probably hunted by the cave-
dwellers of old with weapons as rude as those now
used by the native African hunters.
In the extreme north, especially in Alaska,
flourished the great hairy elephant, or mammoth.
It will be seen, therefore, that at different periods
America has been the home of three or perhaps
more distinct species of elephants, that roamed
about as do the buffaloes in the great West; and
whereas there are now only two distinct kinds of
elephants living in all the world, there were then
at least fourteen.
The question will perhaps be asked, How do
we know that these great creatures lived in Amer-
ica so many years ago? This can be very: well
answered by relating the adventures of some
workmen at the Harmony Mills, Cohoes, N. Y.

They were engaged in excavating a cellar, and
after removing several thousand loads of soil, peat,
trunks of trees, and other material, they came
upon a great well in the rock, commonly called
a pot-hole.
Continuing the excavation, they found trunks
of trees that had been gnawed by beavers, though
these animals are now never found in that locality;
and finally, in the bottom of the great well, the as-
tonished workmen discovered the jaw of an enor-
mous animal,which Professor Hall pronounced to be
that of a mastodon an extinct American elephant.
Digging still deeper, they found lying upon a bed
of clay, broken slate, gravel, and water-worn peb-
bles, and covered with river ooze -and vegetable
matter, the principal parts of the mastodon's
skeleton.- According to Professor Hall, these pre-
historic bones, dropped from the melting ice, had
been deposited in the cavity by a glacier, ages
ago,.and so preserved as a page in the history of
the time.
That other mastodons were carried to their
graves on great glaciers, or were affected by them,
is shown by a tooth of one in the Philadelphia
Academy of Sciences, that is marked with the
glacial scrapings; while still another, found in
Kentucky, now in Rutgers College, shows, also,
the glacial lines.
The Cohoes mastodon is now in the State Mu-
seum at Albany. Numerous similar remains in
other museums of the country show that this giant
beast ranged the United States in vast herds,
finally being driven out or exterminated, possibly
by the mighty glaciers that swept down over the
face of the country in that distant age known as
the glacial period.
A famous pasture for these giants seems to have
been what is now known as the Big Bone Lick, a
morass in K.r't. r..,, about twenty-three miles from
Cincinnati. Here, imbedded in the blue clay of
the ancient creek, have been found the complete
skeletons and bones of over one hundred masto-
idons and twenty mammoths, and the remains of
several other gigantic' monsters of former days.
One of the most remarkable of the American
elephants, specimens of which' have also been
found in Europe, was the Dinotherium, a huge
creature standing on legs ten feet .in height,
and attaining a length of .nearly twenty feet.
The tusks, instead of extending out of the upper
jaw, were in the lower'jaw and grew downward,



VOL. XII.--5.


giving the animal a very singular appearance.
We know that the elephants of to-day use their
tusks to lift and crush their enemies, but in the
Dinotheriurm, the tusks actually point at the owner.
What, then, was their use ?
In answer to this, we find that the huge animal
was a water-lover, and probably made its home on
the banks of streams, living a life similar to that
of the hippopotamus. With this knowledge, a
use for these great recurving incisors is readily
seen. They were used as pick-axes to tear away
the earth and dig out the succulent vegetation
that it fed upon; and at night, when partly floating,
they might have been buried in the bank, forming
veritable anchors for the living and bulky ships.
When attacked by its-perhaps human-enemies,
we can imagine the great creature struggling from
the mire, lifting itself to dry land by striking its
tusks into the ground and using them to hoist its
ponderous body to the bank.
Remains of the Dinotherium are common in

France and Germany, and a model of this great
elephant has been purchased by the French Gov-
In India, there formerly lived six different kinds
of elephants. One, called by the naturalists
Elekhas Gangesa, had a very small head, but its
tusks were of so enormous a size, that forty or fifty
boys and girls could have been lifted and carried
with the greatest ease upon them and the head.
The length of both head and tusks was over four-
teen feet. The tusks were not bent like those of
the mammoth, but curved gently upward, ending
in extremely sharp points, showing them to have
been terrible weapons.
In Malta, at about the same period of time,
there lived a Lilliputian elephant, that when full-
grown was barely three feet in height. Its babies
would surely have been a curious sight. Imagine
an elephant that could be carried about in your
overcoat pocket, and you can then form an idea
of this baby elephant of those far-off days.



CHRISTMAS is just as much Christmas at the
Boon Island light-house as it is anywhere else in
the world.
And why not?
To be sure, the nearest land is ten miles away;
and when the winter storms come, the waves dash
quite over the two acres of rocks out of which the
sturdy light-house rises. There are no blazing
rows of streets lined with toy-shops there; no
gatherings of families; no Christmas-trees loaded
down with presents; nothing to be seen from the
light-house but the changing water and the un-
changeable rocks. Water on three sides, and on
the fourth side a bluff barrier of rocks, with the
world hiding behind it ten miles away.
There are six children there, though, and a
mother and a father; and if they can not make a
Christmas, then nobody can.
Why, Baby Deb alone is material enough of
which to make a Christmas, and a very rollicking,
jolly sort of Christmas, too; but when to her you
add Tom and Sue and Sally and Ike and Sam,-
well, the grim old light-house fairly overflows with
Christmas every twenty-fifth of December.
If it is a lonely, old, one-eyed light-house, has
it not a chimney? And do not the children there
have stockings- good long stockings? Indeed, they

have: And does not Christmas Eve see them all
temptingly hung, so invitingly limp and empty,
under the mantel-shelf? And does not Christmas
morning-very early, mind you!-see six gradu-
ated white-robed ghosts performing their myste-
rious ceremonies around six bulging stockings ?
Ah, then, if you suppose that that cunning old
gentleman, Santa Claus, does not know how to
find a chimney, even when the cold waves are
pelting it with frozen spray-drops ten miles from
land, you little know what a remarkable gift he
has in that way !
And the Christmas dinners they have there!
The goose,- the brown, crisp, juicy, melting
roast goose What would that dinner be without
that goose? What; indeed !
But once,-they turn pale at that light-house
now when they think of it,-once, they came
very near having no goose for Christmas.
It came about in this way: Papa-Ah, if you
could only hear Baby Deb tell about it! It would
be worth the journey. But you can not, of course,
so never mind. Papa Stoughton-the light-
house-keeper, you know-had lost all his money
in a savings-bank that had failed early in that
A goose is really not a very expensive fowl;




but if one has not the money, of course one can
not buy even a cheap thing. Papa Stoughton
could not afford a goose. He said so,-said so
before all the family.
Ike says that the silence that fell upon that
family then was painful to hear. They looked at
one another with eyes so wide open that it 's a
mercy they ever could shut them again.
"No goose at last cried Tom, who was the
"No goose !" cried the others in chorus. All
except Baby Deb, who was busy at the time gently
admonishing Sculpin, her most troublesome child,

only four years old, gave herself very little concern
about the thoughts of others. Her own thoughts
took all of her time.
Tom finally said "Ah under his breath, and
mysteriously vanished into another room after
beckoning to his brothers and sisters to follow him,
which they did almost before they had fairly said
"Ah!" Baby Deb was there, too; somewhat
awe-struck at the mystery about her, but ready to
lend the help of her wisdom, if necessary.
We must have a goose," said Tom.
Oh! gasped his audience, moved by min-
gled amazement and admiration.


for being so dirty. Baby Deb said No doose "
after all the others were quiet.
That made them all laugh. No doubt they
thought that, after all, so long as Baby Deb was
there, it would be Christmas anyhow, goose or no
goose. So they were happy for a moment, until
the thought came that roast goose was good on
Christmas even with Baby Deb; and then they
looked dismayed again.
However, when Papa Stoughton explained how
it was, they saw it as plainly as he did, and so they
made no complaint. Only Tom fell a-thinking,
and when the others saw what he was doing, they
did the same; the difference being that Tom
was trying to think what could be done to get the
goose anyhow, and they were trying to think what
he was thinking about, so that they could think
the same.
All except Baby Deb, of course; who, being

STom looked at them with great firmness and
S"Ever since I was born," he went on, "we
have had a roast goose for Christmas."
Ever since he was born It might have been
a hundred years before, from Tom's tone and man-
ner, and the audience was tremendously impressed.
''And," continued the orator, "we must have
one now. We will have one now."
They almost stopped breathing.
"I have a plan." They shuddered and drew
nearer. 'We all must contribute! "
Oh in chorus.
Do you want goose, Sue ?"
"Yes, indeed."
"You, Sal?"
"Ike ?"
"DoI? Well!"



"Sam ?
"Yes, sir."
"Me, too," said Baby Deb, with great earnest-
ness; for it was clear to her that it was a question
of eating, and she did not wish to be left out.
Of course, you too, you daisy dumpling," said
Tom. Now, then," he continued, when order was.
restored, "what shall we contribute ? I '11 give my
new sail-boat. That ought to bring fifty cents."
His new sail-boat! Why, he had only just made
it, and had not even tried it yet. Oh evidently
this was a time of sacrifices. Who could hesitate
I '11 give my shells," said Sue, heroically.
My sea-mosses," sighed Sally.
You may take my shark's teeth," said Ike.
And my whale's tooth," said Sam.
The sacrifice was general; the light-house would
yield up its treasures.
All right," said Tom. "Now let's tell Father."
And Father was told, and for some reason he
pretended to look out of the window very sud-
denly; but he did not, he wiped his eyes. And
Mamma Stoughton rubbed her spectacles and
winked very hard and said:
Bless their hearts "
For you see these parents were very simple-
hearted folk, and it seemed to them very affecting
that the children should make such sacrifices to
procure the goose for Christmas.
"And what does Baby Deb contribute?" said
Papa Stoughton, by way of a little joke.
I dess I 's not dot nuffin," was Baby Deb's re-
ply when the matter was explained to her, "'cept
'oo tate Stulpin."
Oh, what a laugh there was then! For if ever
there was a maimed and demoralized doll, it was
Sculpin. But Baby Deb was hugged and kissed
as if she had contributed a lump of gold instead
of a little bundle of rags.
Papa Stoughton and Tom were to go out to the
main-land the first clear day to buy the goose; but
-alas -a storm came on, and they were forced
to wait for it to go down. It did not go down;
it grew worse and worse. The wind shrieked and
moaned and wrestled with the lonely tower, and
the waves hurled themselves furiously at it, and
washed over and over the island, and no boat
could have lived a moment in such weather.
If a goose be only a goose, no matter; but if it
be a Christmas dinner !-Ah, then !
Yes, they had good reason to feel dismal in the
light-house. It was no wonder if five noses were
fifty times a day flattened despairingly against the
light-house windows. Yes, six noses, for even
Baby Deb was finally affected; and, though she
did not know the least thing about the weather,

she, too, would press her little nose against the
glass in a most alarming way, as if she thought
that pressure was the one effective thing.
It took some time for Baby Deb to realize the
importance of having a goose for Christmas; but
when she had grasped the idea, she became an
enthusiast on the subject. She explained the mat-
ter to her dolls, and was particularly explicit with
Sculpin, with whom, indeed, she held very elabo-
rate and almost painful conversations.
One thing became very certain. There was
very little prospect of clear weather within a week,
and it lacked only three days of Christmas. The
others gloomily gave up hope, but not so did Baby
Deb. The truth was, she had a plan; and you
know when one has a plan, one has hope too.
Mamma Stoughton had only recently been hav-
ing a series of talks with Baby Deb on the impor-
tant question of prayer, and it had occurred to
Baby Deb that the goose was a good subject for
prayer. It was a very clear case to her. The
goose was necessary. Why not ask for it, then?
The great difficulty was to find a secret place
for her devotions; for the family very well filled
the light-house, and Baby Deb had understood that
prayers ought to be quietly and secretly made.
The place was found, however. Just in front
of the light-house was a broad ledge of rock, gener-
ally washed by the waves; but at low tide, even in
this bad weather, out of water. The other chil-
dren had been forbidden to go there because it.
was dangerous, but no one had thought of caution-
ing Baby Deb. So there she went, and in her
imperfect way begged hard for the goose.
Christmas Eve came and still there was no goose.
Baby Deb was puzzled; the others were gloomy.
Still Baby Deb would not give up. It would be
low tide about seven o'clock. She knew that, for
she had asked. She would make her last trial.
She had hope yet; but as the others knew nothing
of her plans, they had absolutely no hope. To
them it was certain that there could be no Christ-
mas goose.
Seven o'clock came, and Baby Deb crept softly
from the room and down-stairs. She opened the
great door just a little bit, and slipped out into the
darkness. Really did slip, for it was very icy on
the rocks, and she sat down very hard. However,
she. was very chubby and did not mind it. She
crawled cautiously around to the big rock, the keen
wind nipping her round cheeks and pelting her
with the frozen drops of spray. She knelt down.
Oh! please, dood Lord, send us a doose. We
wants a doose awful. Wont you, please, dood
Thud! fell something right alongside of her.
"Oh! What's dat?" she exclaimed, putting



her hand out. Why, it 's a doose she cried,
with a scream of delight, as her hand came in con-
tact with a soft, warm, feathery body.
She forgot to give a thank you for the goose;
but she was thankful, though not so very much
surprised. She really had expected it.
It was a heavy load for Baby Deb, but she was
excited and did not notice it. She made her way
into the light-house, and, step by step, patter,
patter, she went upstairs and burst, all breathless,
into the sitting-room, crying exultantly :
It's tummed, it's tummed," as the great goose
fell from her arms upon the floor.
Well if you think they were not surprised, you
know very little about the Stoughton folks. What
they said, nobody knows. They all talked at once.
But by and by, Papa Stoughton had a chance to
be heard.
Where did you get it, Baby Deb ?" he asked.
Why, I played Dod for it! answered Deb.
Paid Dodd ?" exclaimed Papa Stoughton.
Paid Dodd ?" chorused the family.
"'Es," responded Baby Deb, convincingly.
"Dod-Ze dood Lord. I p'ayed to him. He
sended it to me, dess now."
More questions and more of Baby Deb's expla-
nations revealed the whole story. Funny folk,
those Stoughtons !--but they spent the next ten
minutes in wiping their eyes and hugging and kiss-
ing and making up new pet-names for Baby Deb.
Papa Stoughton did say to Mamma Stoughton
that night, as they were going to bed:

"A wild goose. It was blinded by the bright
light, and broke its neck by flying against the
glass. And, after all, who shall say that 'the
good Lord' did not send it ?"

_Q,,44% .
,. ,.

At all events, not a word of explanation was said
to Baby Deb, and no one contradicted her when
she said at dinner next day:
"Dod's doose is dood."



IT is a well-known fact that our muscles are
more or less influenced, unconsciously to ourselves,
by the thoughts with which our minds are occu-
pied. Sometimes this influence amounts to what
would almost seem an unconscious control by our
will over inanimate things. An amusing experi-
ment, which proves this and has served to pleas-
antly occupy many a long winter evening, is the
little design on next page. For lack of a better
name, we have christened it the Tell-tale.
With the aid of a pair of compasses or a pencil
and a bit of string, carefully draw two concentric
half-circles,-that is, from the same center, and one
about a half an inch within the other. The size of
the design makes but little difference, but the result

is more easily seen if the diagram is as large as
convenient. Divide this double half-circle into a
number of compartments, and in each place a
letter of the alphabet, a numeral, or a name, as
the fancy may dictate; the object being that there
shall be no possible mistaking of one compart-
ment for another. Rule straight lines from each
compartment to the common center. Now take a
small button -a shoe-button is as good as any-
and fasten a bit of fine silk thread about eight
inches long to it, making a knot in each end of
the thread. Now let one of the party take the
thread by the end, and hold it so far above the
figure that the button shall hang about an inch
and a half above the paper. Let him fix his.mind



firmly upon one of the compartments, and then
close his eyes. Very soon the button will develop a
pendulum-like motion, and before long, generally
in about three minutes, it will begin to move to-
ward the compartment of which the holder is

pend a plain gold ring on a piece of silk thread in
a common tumbler, holding the hand and arm
straight, and thinking of a certain number. It is
claimed that with the mind concentrated on such
a number the string will begin to oscillate, and the

thinking. It really seems, at the first glance, that
the button itself is influenced by the unconscious
exertion of will on the part of the experimenter.
But close investigation will reveal the fact that the
hand moves with a slight tremulous motion, which,
being transmitted through the fine thread, moves
the button. Much amusement can be had by
putting the names of people in the compartments,
and then seeing of which one the experimenter is
Another experiment of kindred interest is to sus-

ring will presently strike against the inner sides
of the glass the number thought of.
While these experiments are interesting and
afford much amusement, it must be admitted that
they do not always work as they should. It must
be remembered that whether we accept the theory
of involuntary muscular action or attribute the
results to "will-power," or "animal magnetism,"
or "electricity," we are experimenting with forces
which the greatest scientists have never been able
to explain satisfactorily.



WHEN the winter works its charms,
Frost-flowers, just like ferns and palms,
On the window-panes appear;
Snow-men muster, far and near;
And the river, soon or late,
Freezes for us boys to skate.
When the spring-time comes about,
Woolly buds make haste to pout;
Wind-flowers in the woods are blowing;
Birds have secrets worth the knowing;
And the wild brooks everywhere
With their laughter fill the air.

When the summer months arrive,
It is good to be alive !
There is little left to wish for;
And a sea of fish to fish for;
All the cherries, too, are prime
In the very nick of time! ,
In the autumn, hips grow red,
And the milkweed spins its thread;
Hidden nests all come to light;
Leaves and birds are taking flight;
And we hear Jack Frost astir,
Splitting every chestnut burr!



s885.] OUR MUSIC PAGE. 231


Wit a rocking motion,

I. Hush! the waves are roll ing in, White with foam, white with foam;
2. Hush! the winds roar hoarse and deep, On they come, on tlhy come;
3. Hush the rain sweeps o'er the knowss* Where they roam,where they come;

-- -- -----* _

-- . _



Fa their toils a mid the din, But ba by sleeps at home.
Broth er seeks the wandering sheep, But ba by sleeps at home.
Sis ter goes to seek the cows, But ba by sleeps at home.

-_ -- ___ _-_ _--___ -"_--- -- _--__.

Sow ..............................................,\ __

_-- _-_-_-_-_---- I-:-r ,---- .

But ba by sleeps at home; Sleep, sleep, my ba by;

-_- -- ---'--- :.___-_ .- "--. ---- ':---------


r--. --- -- ---- -

Sleep, sleep, my ba by; Lul la by, my ba -by, My precious, my own.

S--- -- -- --
S_---Hlck-s -- -)--- --- -

Hillocks (Scotch).



You all
OLAS the
,~ the Brown-
ies skating;
the Brown-
ies sliding;
S ,the :Brown-
--ies taking a
ride the
4 I onaballoon
I 1P"...;T! .voyage; the
.- .... .going to
4 .l L ci;sea ; and

U4u."- now the
Iz' Brownie
'~ man shows
us the com-

-.fellows try-
ing to help
Jack Frost
make pict-
ures on the window-panes! These Brownies seem to be very hard at
work, and very much in earnest; and yet the pictures on the windows
do not get on very well. After all, Jack Frost can do his own work best.
But Brownies are kind and full of fun, and so we always are glad to see
them, no matter what they try to do. Look at each one of the -little
Brownies in this picture, and if one does not make you laugh, another
will. Which Brownie, do you think, is the funniest of all?
Now, who can count all these Brownies?




i_., \

~a a


I r^.
: d, -
K-i: ^.^ !r -.'**



HAPPY New Year to you, dear friends, one and
all! And now let us see what Rob. G. McN.
has to tell us in this letter about

DEAR JACK: I have just read in our weekly paper an account of
how in some parts of Scotland a lazy fisherman will make his geese
catch fish for him. And this is how he does it. He takes two or
more strong geese and ties to each one, by the feet, a line with hook
and bait, all complete. Then he goes to pond or river, as the case
may be, and sets his geese on the water. "The birds, of course,
swim out," says our writer, "while the fisherman lights his pipe
and sits down. In a few minutes a fish sees the bait and seizes it,
giving the goose a good pull. The bird starts for shore at full tilt,
frightened half to death, dragging the fish upon the bank, where it
is unhooked. The line being rebaited, the feathered fisherman is
again sent out to try its luck. A flock of geese can make quite a
haul in the course of the day, the human fisherman having only to
take off the game and bait the hooks, the pulling in and hooking
being done by the birds." Now, I have my own opinion of this
kind of a fisherman, and knowing what I do of the satisfaction of
doing one's own work in the sporting line, I really think the geese
that swim the water on these occasions have a fellow-goose sitting
high and dry on the shore. Yours for honest fishing,
Ron. G. McN.

DEAR JACK: Wont you ask your birds to tell us something about
those pretty little lady-apples which are used so much about the
holiday times ? It seems to be almost a different fruit from the ordi-
nary apples, and it has such a very fine skin and such lovely red
cheeks that I think it well deserves its name,- don't you ?

My birds tell me that the lady-apple is a
very delightful fruit and often quite easy for
them to find, but that they consider it something
of a fraud, as it looks like ari enormous white and
blush cherry and is not a cherry, after all. So the
only thing for you to do is to peg away at your ag-
ricultural books and cyclopedias. Better still, let
those report who have seen these lady-apples grow-
ing. The dear Little School-ma'am tells me that
she has gathered them many a time, but this is all
she will say; and as she has been nearly all over

the world, it does not help us much. The Deacon
tells me that they often are found in barrels, but
we want to get only their previous history.


TALKING of apples, the oldest known apple-
tree in the world is said to be over one hundred
and seventy years of age. It is one hundred and
sixty feet high, and is still bearing fine fruit. I
am told that formerly five of its limbs bore fruit
one year and the four other limbs bore the next
season, thus "taking turns" in the most satisfac-
tory and amiable manner; but that in the centen-
nial year the nine limbs of this grand old tree
all bore fruit at the same time, and that they have
continued to do so ever since.
Now, where is this wonderful apple-tree ? Who
owns it? and exactly what kind of apple does it
bear? Can any one tell me?


By W. B. C.
IF all the sea were water
And all the earth were land;
The ships would sail on the ocean
And wagons drive on the sand.
If fire were always heated
And ice always congealed;
We'd burn up coal to warm us
And skate the icy field.
If vinegar were sour
And sugar tasted sweet,
The first would make our salad,
The last our tea complete.
If the stars could not be counted
And the sun were dazzling bright;
We would never know their number
And the sun would give us light.
If all the day were daylight
And all the night were dark;
Then men would work in day-time
And sleep until the lark.
If money purchased comforts
And gave its owners ease;
Then men would seek for riches
To spend them as they please.
If you have read these verses
And can their meaning see;
Your time has not been wasted
And you have guessed their key!

DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PuLPIT: I thought you might like to hear of
a living curiosity that a friend of mine has. It is a bird without any
wings I He is quite perfect, with this exception, and seems very
contented and happy, as he hops merrily about the room.
Your constant reader,
B. D.
DEAR JACK: I want to tell you about a funny incident which
befell Mamma last spring. One stormy night, last May, Mamma
was just preparing for bed when she heard a queer noise; as if some
one was throwing dirt against the window. She opened the window
to look out when in flew a large crow-blackbird; he flew around the
room and landed on top of the book-case, and stayed there all night.
He awakened Mamma very early in the morning with his efforts to
get out. And out he went as soon as she raised the window. I am
ten years old, and have written this entirely alone.
With love to the Little School-ma'am and yourself, I remain
always, your loving reader, WADE W. T.



DEAR JACK: I wish to tell you ofa curious thing I saw the other
day. As I was walking in the garden, I noticed a pail which had
not been disturbed for several days. It stood upside down, and on it
was a flower-pot with the open part resting on the bottom of the
pail. A spider had taken possession of it, spinning a web from some
light branches to the flower-pot in the shape of a vortex,
the point of which was around the hole in the top of the
flower-pot, so that when there were no insects in the web,
the spider could go down (through the hole in the top) into
the bottom of the flower-pot, and so be out of sight and where
no harm could be done to it by stones or sticks. Don't you
think that this was an approach to reason on the part of the
spider-his providing for himself a place that he could retire
to with safety ? Yours respectfully,

DEAR JACK: I write to tell you about a little butterfly.
When I was in St. Augustine one winter, a little butterfly
flew into the room and then dropped down. Mamma looked
at it and found that the wing was torn almost in two parts.
She stuck a piece of the lightest kind of court-plaster on it
and put it out of the window. It immediately began to fly
away. I watched it until it became so small that I could not
see it any more. I am twelve years old, and I take the ST.
NICHOLAS and like it very much.
HERE are some answers to the ant ques-
tion in the November ST. NICHOLAS. I
print Howard's letter first, because letters
founded on personal observation please me
best. Herbert's and Mary's letters, however,
will be found interesting.
P. S.-M., Edwin Stanley T., and Sidney
A. S. also send letters, giving substantially
the same story.
CHELSEA, MASS., October 29.
DEAR JACK: In answer to G. M. B.'s query on ants, I
can say that during this last summer I noticed a small ant
carrying .a dead one larger than itself. It carried it up a
step a foot high and for about three feet on a walk, and then
disappeared, still carrying its burden.
Ever yours, HowARD P. N.
zz8 GELL ST., SHEFFIELD, ENG., November 2, 1884.
DEAR JACK: In answer to a query concerning ants, in your
issue of this month, I send you the following interesting account
of this solemn performance, which was witnessed by a gentleman,
who thus describes it:
"Two of their companions came forward and took up a dead
body; then two others followed without any burden. Next came a
second couple with another dead ant, and so on until there were
about forty pairs. These were followed by an irregular body of
some two hundred or more. Occasionally the two laden ants stopped
and-laid down the dead one, which was taken up by the two unbur-
dened ones behind. Thus, by occasionally relieving each other,
they arrived at a sandy spot near the sea. Here they dug holes
with their jaws, into which their companions were laid and carefully
covered. A funny part of the funeral was the attempt of six or seven
to shirk the digging. These were at once killed by the others. A
single grave was quickly dug, and they were all dropped into it."
Hoping G. M. B. will see this, I remain, yours obediently,

SCHENECTADY, N. Y., November 8, 1884.
DEAR JACK: In the November ST. NICHOLAS I read the letter
from G. M. B. about the ant carrying the dead one, and I have
tried to find out as much about it as I could; and from what I read
I gathered that the ants often feed upon animals, and that they ren-
dered "important service in clearing away every vestige of the flesh
of dead animals"; but it did not mention ants in particular. I also
read in another place that ants "prey upon the flesh, especially the
soft parts, of others "; and so I gathered from it all that, when an
ant was carried away so, it was taken to some place to be eaten.
Your faithful reader, 5 MARY (aged 13).
What do you say to this, my friends? Have
any of you ever seen a cannibal ant, so to speak;
and especially a cannibal ant in the very act of
eating one of his fellow-beings ?

DEAR JACK: Will you please ask some of your young naturalist
friends to give the name of this beetle? I made the sketches from
an insect brought from Mexico by a lady, who told me that it was
not uncommon to see them worn as a sort of live jewel," fastened
by a pin and tiny gold chain to the wearer's dress, as represented in
my drawing. VICTOR.

The Little School-ma'am tells me that she knew
a young lady in New York City who had one of
these queer "jewels." Though the maiden prob-
ably would have screamed at the sight of any other
beetle, she wore this pet specimen fastened to her
dress in just the manner described by Victor in his
letter. The beetle was of a brownish color varied
with spots upon its back and head. The young
lady was very much surprised to find that it seemed
to live without eating, and the Little School-ma'am
says that, although some uncommonly good eyes
were kept upon him, and the beetle moved about
slowly, he lived for months without eating a visible
thing! Did you ever hear of such a case? And
how do you account for it?
I should say, however, that the young lady's
beetle was not luminous, or light-giving, as some
of the Mexican beetles are. Victor does not tell
us whether his beetles were or were not luminous.
DEAR MR. JACK: I read in the November ST. NICHOLAS about
a mouse that catches flies. We have in our house a singing mouse.
Its song is something like gurgling water; and sometimes in the
night he sings so loud as to keep us awake. He is very cunning.
My mamma has a trap which sometimes we set to catch him, as it
did not hurt him at all. He will run in the hole, and then he can
not get out again until we open the door. The funny thing now is
that when we set this trap we have no more singing till mamma
takes it away, so we have given up catching him to sing for us. He
does it better when he can choose his own time for a concert. I am
eleven years old. BERTIE ROSE.




THE title of Mr. Cheney's poem on page 171 of this number is
sufficiently explained for most young readers by the poem itself,
and no boy or girl who is acquainted with the qualities of bass-wood
will fail to recognize the meaning of the term "Bass-wood Chaps."
The bass-wood tree is the linden, or "white-wood" tree, and it is
even called "pumpkin-wood," as it is very soft and white, and
lacks the strength of the hard woods, such as oak and hickory.

OUR apologies are due to two lady contributors for errors of over-
sight in connection with the poem, "Willow-Ware," which was
published in our November number. The author's name should
have appeared, in our Table of Contents, as Louise Trumbull Cogs-
well, instead of Louise P. Cogswell; and to the statement that
the poem was illustrated by R. B. Birch, should have been added -
from designs by Jeanie Lea Southwick.

THE "Stories of Art and Artists" given in this number form only
the first half of Mrs. Clement's paper on Spanish Painting," and
the second part-a paper giving an account of Murillo and his
Works "- will appear in an early issue.
It should be stated, also, that the engraving of "The Maids of
Honor," on page 176, represents only the lower portion of Velas-
quez's famous painting, as it was impossible to present an adequate

copy of the entire painting within the compass of a single page of
ST. NICHOLAS. But all the figures and the more important parts
of the painting are included in the engraving. The omitted por-
tion represented only the ceiling and the upper walls of the room
wherein the great artist has pictured the Little Princess, her maids
of honor, and himself.

ALL the ST. NICHOLAS boys and girls who read last month Miss
Edna Dean Proctor's brief biography of the Czarevitch of Russia
will be interested in the following item, clipped from a newspaper, con-
cerning the mother of Nicholas Alexandrovitch,- Maria Feodorovna,
the present Empress of Russia. This item, however, appeared a
few years ago, before she became the Empress, and while she was
Czarevna, or Crown Princess:
The Czarevna has four beautiful children the eldest, Nicholas;
the second, George, who bears a striking resemblance to the early
pictures of Alexander II.; and two much younger ones, Xenia and
Michael. She has accompanied her husband to all parts of Euro-
pean Russia, and has gained the affection of the people, particularly
of the Poles. In the winter, at the Anitchkov Palace, she has
an annual Christmas-tree; but it is not invariably the children of the
nobles who are invited, but a number from the most squalid homes in
St. Petersburg, recommended by some of the members of a society
for the relief of distress, and these are always sent away with a good
stock of warm clothing, as well as the customary presents."


DEAR OLD ST. NICHOLAS: I have been taking you in for four
years. I have a very jolly uncle, who sends you to me every month,
at school. We all prefer you to any of the English magazines. I am
twelve years old. We all want to hear some more about "The
Dalzells of Daisydown." I am one of your faithfu readers.
Our little English friend will be glad to discover in this number
of ST. NICHOLAS, "some more about 'The Dalzells of Daisydown,'"
and we trust their adventures on an ice-yacht will prove as interest-
ing as the doings of the young people when they were at Dalzell

RocKFORD, WIL., DEL., 1884.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have taken you for a great many years,
but I have never written to you before, so I hope you will find a
place in the Letter-box for this. I have a great many pets, the
nicest one being a pony, of which I am very fond. I have a beau-
tiful home on the Brandywine creek, about two miles out of Wil-
minngton. For the last ten years some of our friends have had a
picnic on the Fourth of July on the grounds around our house.
Everybody provides something, and my papa has a large table put
up on the lawn, on which they spread the dinner, and altogether we
have great fun. I enjoy reading your stories very much. I think
the "Spinning-wheel Stories" and "Historic Boys" are two of
your nicest stories. Your faithful reader, LILLIE R. B.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have long intended to write to you and
tell you how much I enjoy your delightful pages, but I have never
done sobefore. I think the "Spinning-wheel Stories" are very inter-
esting. In fact, all of Miss Alcott's works are charming. "Uncle
Russell's Floral Letter was very pretty. He must be a nice uncle.
I think I have never seen a letter to the ST. NICHOLAS from so far
north. We have very cold winters here, but the summers are
pleasant. I love to read the letters in the Letter-box, and wish I
might have the pleasure of seeing all the boys and girls. I send my
love to them and to you, too, dear ST. NICHOLAS. I do hope you '11
find room to print this letter. Yours very truly, CLOVER.

ST. THOMAS, DAK., October, 1884.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I see so many boys and girls writing to
you, and I have resolved to follow their example. I would say,
what a great many have said before me: "ST. NICHOLAS is the
nicest magazine I ever saw." Papa liked the story of The Tinkham

Brothers' Tide-mill," and he-used to be as anxious as I for your
magazine to come. I have no brothers or sisters to enjoy reading
it with me, but my papa and mamma like it very much. I liked
your Floral Letter," but you did not print the answer in the Octo-
ber number. I think I have the answer. This is the first time I
have written to you, and I have taken you three years. I think I
will close, as you have a great many correspondents, I am sure.
Your twelve-year old subscriber, HELEN S.

HERE is a pair of letters from two sisters living in Montevideo:
MONTEVIDEO, August, 1884.
MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have dolls like Kittie R- but
mine are all girls. My youngest is Lily; of course she is the most
spoiled. She is four. Then comes Marjorie. She has just come
from France. Then Violet, and then the oldest is Helen Edith. She
plays the piano very well. I like the Stories for "Very Little
Folk." I am not so fond of books as Maud; my pet books are
"The Children of the New Forest" and "What Katie Did." I
am a little Irish girl, but I don't remember Ireland nor England,
because I have been in Montevideo so long. They all talk Spanish
here. How nice it would be to hear every one talk English, as they
do at home or in the States. I am your friend,
MONTEVIDEO, August, 1884.
MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I like your book very much. I was
very much interested in The Hoosier School-boy and "An Old-
fashioned Thanksgiving." We live in winter at Montevideo; in
summer we go to the sea-side, and have very good fun down there.
I am six years old. We have a beautiful large azotea, which means
a flat roof on the house, with a low wall surrounding it. We have
pigeons up there, and there was a little ostrich, but he died; and
we had ducks and chickens up there, too, and a great many ban-
tams. The other houses here have roofs like that, but some little
wee houses have slanting roofs. I suppose you have slanting roofs,
like those in "Punch," and ST.NICHOLAS pictures. I did n't write
this letter. Koten, my sister, did it for me, but I said the words.
I am your little friend, ELAINE MAUD J.

WE must return our thanks for pleasant letters received from
the following young friends: Helen Russ, Mary Russ, Sarah Russ,
George Yost. A. Johannsen, Arthur C. Eddy, Ernestine Haskell,
Genevieve Cummins, Lily P. Cobb, Mamie Hatcher Ferguson,
Freddie H., Victor W. Ferris, W. C. S., Helen L. C., Willie Du-
lany, S. K. M., Belle, Melville F., Coralie N. Kenfield, Percy Weir
Arnold, Jessiq R., Bessie Rhodes, Miss K. Victory, and D. M. W.






THE latest number on our register of members of the A. A. is
8099. The latest Chapter formed is number 730. Philadelphia has
the honor of having formed a larger number of Chapters than any
other city.
The letters of the alphabet have been exhausted, and we have
begun again with A' "and B'." Chicago is not far behind, hav-
ing a W branch, and New York has reached Q." We record
the following;

No. Name. No. of Members. Address.
716 Deep River,Conn. (A) ... 3..John L.Dearing.
717 Geneva, N. Y. (B) ....... o..Arthur I. Hammond.
718 Milwaukee, Wis. (D)...... 12..J. C. Drake, 274 24th Street.
719 Philadelphia, Pa. (A')... 7..A. N. Seal, 1418 Bouvier
720 Prairie Du Sac, Wis. (A).. 5..N. H. Burdic.
721 Philadelphia, Pa. (B')... 6..Ellwood Carpenter, 865 N.
16th Street.
722 St. Louis Mo. (E)........ 6..Ed. Strassburger, I316 So.
Ewing Avenue.
723 Hopkinton, Mass. (A).... 5..Geo. W. Chandler.
724 Jewett City, Conn. (A)..35..Charles E. Prior.
725 Colorado Springs, Col. (B) 24..Orlin Hemenway.
726 Millington, N. J. (A) ..... 22..Miss Emilie Schumacher.
727 Milwaukee, Wis. (E)...... 4.. Miss Agnes Lydon, X25 Huron
728 Binghamton, N. Y. (A)... 5..Chas. F. Hotchkin.
729 Boston, Mass. (F)........ 4..Miss Alice D. Heustis, 20 Mc-
Lean Street.
730 Council Bluffs, Iowa (A).. 4..L. E. Empkie, iog Main Street.


188 Newport, R. I. (A) ..........F. J. Cotton.
388 Galesburgh, I11. (A) ........C. F. Gettemy.
429 Dorchester, Mass....-....... Miss Miriam Badlam.
550 Galesburgh, Il1. (B)......... C. F. Gettemy.

8 Philadelphia (A).......... 4..H. Crawley, 307Arch Street.


Caddis cases, for offers.-James C. Myers, Columbia, Pa.
California marine, land, and fresh-water shells, wanted in ex-
change for shells from other places. Correspondence desired with
all interested in conchology.-Please send list to Thomas Morgan,
Somerville, N. J. (Somerset Co.)
Rattlesnakes' rattles, minerals, and eggs, for minerals.-Charles
T. Ennis, Lyons, Wayne Co., N. Y.
Correspondence, with a view to exchange.-H. W. Fenno, Sec.
Ch. 24, Mattapan, Mass.
Birds' Eggs and Minerals. Please write before sending speci-
mens.-Miss May B. Ladel, Spencer, Mass.
Spathic Iron Ore, Serpentine, Petrosilex, and Starfish, for geode,
trilobite, malachite, etc.-Miss Sadie True, Salisbury, Essex Co.,

Please change my address from P. 0. Box ro86, Norwich, Conn.,
to 65 Washington Street, Norwich, Conn. A. L. Aitken, Ch. 616.
Address of R. S. Cross, Sec. Ch. 6oi, is changed from West Point,
Miss., to Purvis, Miss.
Secretary of Ch. 186, Geneva, New York, is now F. D. Reed.


146. Largest Flower- (a). In your report for October, 1 noticed
the question, "What is the largest flower in the world?" There is a
resident of this city who has in his garden a Victoria Regia, which
is considered one of the largest flowers in the world Its leaves are
five feet in diameter. Last Sunday it was open, and there were a
great many who witnessed the beautiful sight. There is also an
old-fashioned magnolia, which measures almost the same as the Vic-
toria Regia.-Alice T. Palfrey, 230 4th Street, New Orleans, La.

146. (b). In answer to the question, Which is the largest flower
in the world ? I send a description of the Rafflesia A rnoldi. It is
found in the island of Sumatra, growing upon the creeping roots
of a plant known as the Cissus lianas. Its flowers first appear as a
succession of rough knobs, rising along the low roots of the cissus.
At first as small as ahazel-nut, these buds finally reach the size of a
small head of cabbage. The brown blossom bursts out with over-
lapping petals. As the gigantic flower (from twenty-four to forty
inches in diameter) expands, the thick, pulpy, flesh-colored petals
diffuse a repulsive odor and quickly decay.- Hiram H. Bice, Utica,
146. Flies.-How do flies alight on the ceiling? Do they turn
themselves over in the air so as to bring their feet uppermost? or
how ?
r47. Snails.-Papa and I possess a "snailery," as we call it
We have snails in all stages of growth, from the spawn with a small
dot in the middle, to an old patriarch that we have as school-
master to keep the young snails out of mischief.
148. Prairie-dogs.:-In answer to the question, "What is the food
of prairie-dogs?" they live on grass roots. This kills the grass
around their burrows, so that they are often compelled to move and
dig others near fresh grass. The burrowing-owl takes possession of
the abandoned holes. A pair of caged prairie-dogs were raised on
cabbage-leaves and corn.-Frank H. Wilcox, Parker, Colorado.
149. Squirrels Drinking.- Our pet squirrels (a red and a gray)
both drink water. I wonder how wild squirrels can get water in
winter '-Estella E. Clark.
150. Leaf-rollers.--I spent a whole morning, and many more
might well be spent, in examining these strange insects. Some
rolled the leaf, and ate all except the ribs and veins. Some
drew the edges of the leaf together and ate them away. These
formed trumpet-like houses of various shapes. Some ate out oval
pieces from the leaf and then crawled in and fastened the edges
together. Others ate the leaf in long lines, forming curious patterns.
All these specimens seem to have a liking (or a hatred) for the maple
and the beech.-F. V. Corregan.
I51. SwarntsofA rchripus.- One day in September I saw swarms
and swarms of great archippus butterflies flying toward the south.
At first I thought they were birds. I watched them for an hour.
Some of them flew so high that they were almost out of sight Do
butterflies migrate ? Arthur Espy, Clifton, Ohio.
152. What bird is it? -Seven and a quarter inches in length;
wing, three and three-quarters; bill, three-quarter inch; tarsus,
three-quarter inch. Sides of neck and breast, yellow; a black line
on throat from bill to breast; upper part of head, yellowish olive;
back and wings, dusky; under part, dirty white; upper part of tail
and tail coverts, yellowish olive; under part of tail, yellow; bill, sharp
and nearly straight.-Frank H. Wilcox, Parker, Colorado.
153. Dragon-fy flufa.-I kept the pupa of a dragon-fly in a
glass of water, containing a little stick on which it might climb out
It lived on flies, which came down the stick to drink. It remained
just below the surface of the water, on the side of the stick, and
when a fly came within reach it suddenly drew it into the water and
devoured it.-Alonzo H. Stewart, Washington, D. C.
154. Katydid eggs.-I watched some katydid eggs hatch. The
eggs split, and the top opened like a cover.-G. Wilson Beatty.
155. Plectrodera Scalator.-One of our beetles (Plectiodera
Scalator, Fab.), found by me in a log, is the first one found in the
District of Columbia. It is a native of Texas.-A. H. S.
156. Intelligence of Ants.-I am no longer skeptical in regard
to the intelligence of ants. In lifting a stone, a large ants' nest was
exposed. I made an experiment. I laid a stick on some of the
larvae, so that they could be seen, but could not be pulled out. After
trying in vain to pull them out, the ants went in a body to one end
of the stick, and, by a combined movement in the same direction,
pulled off the stick, and carried away the larva:.- G. W. B.


653, Providence, C. We have increased from 3 members to 9.
Our president has an enormous collection of minerals-about o20o
specimens. He has been collecting only a year and a half-F. S.
Phillips, Sec.
575, Spencer, Mass. We are doing finely. There are 15 of us,
and all are enthusiastically at work. Our essays and talks have
been so successful that we are going to have debates. We all feel
that we are having a profitable and enjoyable winter.-May B.
Ladd, Sec.
679, De Pere, Wis. (E). Our Chapter has grown so that we now
have 16 members, and all seem to take a great deal of interest. We
have been studying snails pretty thoroughly, and have found about
thirty kinds from Foxshire alone. Next summer we intend to make
excursions to all parts of the country.-B. L. Parker, Sec.


612, Urbana, Ohio (C). We have a growing and flourishing
circle of little people, between the ages of six and fifteen, under the
guidance of two faithful mothers. We have been studying the com-
mon things so essential to life and comfort, and of which we knew
so little. Wood, coal, paper, salt, pepper, tea, coffee, spices, have
a new interest since we learned of their origin and nature.. We bid
all our friends of the A. A. God-speed in the delightful work.-
E. M. S. Houston, Sec.
256, Newton Upper Falls, Mass. In reporting for our Chapter, I
have nothing but encouragement to give. We have increased in
numbers, and our meetings in interest. Each member pursues his
favorite branch of natural science.
At each meeting, an original paper, called Gatherings, is read,
for the most part describing something actually observed by our
members. Atevery other meeting questions are distributed, and
answered at the next meeting.
We have visited the Agassiz Museum, at Cambridge, and now
the Newton Chapters are planning to hold a united meeting.-Mrs.
A. A. Smith, Sec.
314, Lancaster, Pa. We have taken several steps upward. We
have adopted the scrap-book system spoken of at the Convention.-
E. R. Heitshu, Sec.
601, Purvis, Miss. We have found by experience that a note-
book is invaluable.-R. S. Cross, Sec.
564, Santa Rosa, Cal. Four of our members spent six weeks in
camp by the ocean, last summer, and collected many fine specimens
-for example: star-fish, about 150 specimens; 50 sea-urchins; 25
sponges; shells, about 225; marine algis, 500 specimens; insects,
550-total, i6oo. Our Chapteris progressing, and we arenow think-
ng of procuring a room.-Wilbur M. Swett, Sec.

136, Columbia, Pa. Our Chapter is in a better condition than
ever before. After the vacation we reorganized, with the deter-
mination of making our society a success. We sent a committee
before the school board to ask for room. The requestwas granted.
We collected a sum sufficient to purchase an $18 cabinet and chairs
for the room. We have twenty-three active members, all of whom
are very enthusiastic. Our collection is rapidly increasing. We have
a regular programme for each meeting.--James C. Myers, Sec.


IN answer to several questioners :
It is not necessary to give the exact velocity of the wind. State
whether there is a violent, strong, or moderate wind, or none.
2. Instruments may be used in making the drawings.
3. Each competitor may send as many more than the required
number as he wishes.
4. None but members of the A. A. may compete.
As an experiment, the reports given above have been drawn from
my pigeon-hole quite at random. Can any one doubt, after reading
them, that our A. A. is growing rapidlyinmstrengthand-enthusiasm ?
It would be an assistance in preparing our monthly report, if the
secretaries would write their natural history notes, and the report of
the doings of their Chapters on separate pages, following in a gene-
ral way the models here given.
President's address: HARLAN H. BALLARD,
Principal of Lenox Academy, Lenox, Mass.


EACH of the words described contains five letters. When rightly
arranged,- not in the order here given,- the initials, reading down-
ward, will spell the name of an American poet; and the third row
of letters, reading upward, will spell the name of an English poet.
CRoss-WORDS: x. Consequently. 2. Makes smooth by pressing.
3. An insurgent: 4. A person-usually a mischievous one. 5. A
cloth for wiping the hands. 6. One devoid of understanding. 7.
Blunder. 8. To color slightly. BERTHA C.


How MANY and what letters of the alphabet are concealed in the
foregoing diagram ? A. S.

1. SYNCOPATE a fruit, and leave to yawn. 2. Syncopate food, and
leave formed by education. 3. Syncopate to weave, and leave a
nail. 4. Syncopate to fetch, and leave a vessel with two masts. 5.
Syncopate a piece of furniture, and leave a narration. 6. Syncopate
discovered, and leave capital. 7. Syncopate oscillation, and leave to
utter melodious sounds.
The syncopated letters will spell the name of something occasion-
ally seen in summer. PATIENCE.

IF from my first my second you take,
My whole you do attain;
If to myfirst my second you join,
My whole you have again.

W. H. A.

I AM composed of seventy letters, and am a couplet from Pope's
"Essay on Criticism."
My 44-25-66-26-38-42 is gloomy. My 47-I5-2I-6-24 is to walk
in a pompous way. My 64-34-r1-59-70 is a young person. My
8-68-27-63 is part of a stocking. My 41-14-12-39-48-17-67 is a
bed or layer. My 49-20-31-33-I3 are troublesome to gardeners.

My 37-29-46-4-22--58-23 is to forbid. My 36-3-65-51-45 is a
seat without a back. My 57-61-53-7-18-16-56 are rags. My 19-
43-69-30-5-32 is one who gains favors by flattery. My 52-9-54 is
a large body of water. My 50-35-62-60-55 is abounding with hills.
My 10-40-28-2 is a small wind-instrument used chiefly to accom-
pany a drum. "CORNELIA LIMBERR"
Smope, kile rustpice, rea fo tefidfern torss,
Mose treteb ta a snadtice, stoher earn;
Mose velo het kard, mose hoosec het searclet tilgh,
Dan lydobl angelchle eth stmo cierping yee;
Mose sealep orf noce, mose liwl reevrof sleepa.
THE letters of each of the anagrams here given maybe transposed
to form the name of an important city.
i. Ipsar. 2. Donoln. 3. More. 4. Erbnil. 5. Damdir. 6.
Noblis. 7. Yenkowr. 8. Amsdar. 9. Pilrolveo. xo. Vedren. ir.
Tiasun. 12. Tatucalc. J. c. H.

I. A CHURCH festival occurring in January. 2. A Sound in the
east part of North Carolina. 3. To inclose within walls. 4. A
feather. 5. To engage, 6. A single point on a card or die. 7. A
word of negation. 8. A vowel. PENNYWIG.

THIS differs from the ordinary cross-word enigma by requiring
two answers instead of one. The first letter of each answer is "In
Nathan but not in Will," the second In Walter but not in Bill,"
and so on until the two answers have been spelled. The first answer
is a time for merry-making,-and also the name of a play by Shake-
speare; the second answer is a pleasant greeting.
In Nathan, not in Will;
In Walter, not in Bill;
In Stephen, not in Lon;
In Alphin, not in John;
In Fanny, not in Sue;
In Tina, not in Lou;
In Henry, not in Nick;
In Newton, not in Dick;
In Milly, not in Ann;
In Gertrude, not in Nan
In Martha, not in Poll;
In Chester, not in Sol. CYRIL DEANE.



.. -- ---_ :

-4- -



PLACE the names of the eight objects around the kite in such a
way that the number of their letters will correspond to the number



CHRISTMAS PUZZLE. In hoc signo vinces (Under this standard SYNCOPATIONS. Saint Nicholas. Cross-words: i. mi-Scar-ry.
thou shalt conquer). i. Idol. 2. Nose. 3. Helm. 4. Owls. 5. 2. w-Arm-ing. 3. s-Imp-ly. 4. con-Not-e. 5. do-Tag-e. 6.
sCow. 6. iSle. 7. mIce. 8. oGee. 9. boNe. xo. roOf. I. ton-Nag-e. 7. m-Inn-ow. 8. s-Cream-ing. 9. w-Her-e. io.
hiVe. z2. coll. 13. chiN. 14. chiC. S5. treE. x6. tarS. m-Omen-t. ii. s-Lop-py. 12. p-Ant-ry. 13. re-Serve-d.
DOUBLE CROSS-WORD ENIGMA. Nativity, Yule-tide. HALF-SQUARE. I. Bigoted. 2. Imaged. 3. Gaged. 4. Ogee.
PECULIAR ACROSTIcs. Christmas, Mistletoe. Cross-words: I. 5. Ted. 6. Ed. 7. D.
beCalMed. 2. beHavIng. 3. caResSed. 4. prImaTes. 5. DIAMOND. i. D. 2. Sir. 3. Meres. 4. Selects. 5. Direction.
asSaiLed. 6. caTerErs. 7. coMpuTer. 8. drAgoOns. 9. As- 6. Rectify. 7. Stiff. 8. Soy. 9. N.
SayErs.-- CHARADE. Mistily. DIAGONALS. Hellebore. Cross-words: x. Holly. 2. sEver. 3.
BEHEADINGS. Alcott. Cross-words: i. A-lack. 2. L-edge. saLvo. 4. ambLe. 5. cablE. 6. DerBy. 7. flOod. 8. cRypt.
3. C-reed. 4. O-zone. 5. T-heir. 6. T-hump. 9. Exalt.
THE names of those who send solutions are printed in the second number after that in which the puzzles appear. Answers should be
addressed to ST. NICHOLAS "Riddle-box," care of THE CENTURY Co., 33 East Seventeenth street, New York City.
ANswERS TO PUZZLES IN THE OCTOBER NUMBER were received, too late for acknowledgment in the December number, from Bella
and Cora Wehl, Frankfort, Germany, 6- Edward F. Milthorp, I.
ANSWERS TO ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE NOVEMBER NUMBER were received, before November 20, from Millie Ward-- Harrison G.-
Kathie Leets- Thomas C. Wilford "Andrew Aguecheek"- S. N. R.-Maggie T. Turrill -Lucy M. Bradley- Fred Thwaits -
Harry M. Wheelock.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE NOVEMBER NUMBER were received, before November o2, from Blanche D., i-James D. Sparkman,
jr., I-A. and S. Livingston, i-Gracie S P., i-Paul Reese, 9 -Effie K. Talbovs, 4-Will F. Lutz, 2- Bob Howard, 2-Hessie
D. Boylston, I "Neptune." 6- Carrie H. Cooper, 4- A. L. Zeckendorf, I- Willie Trautwine, 4-Harry G. Light, 6-Alex. Laid-
law, I-Kittie Greenwood Darling, 5-Anna K. Bullard, 5-Albert J. Sullivan, 3--Nicodemus, 3--Vici, I--F. W. Islip, 9-Hugh
and Cis, 9- Ida and Edith, 6--E. Muriel Grundy, 7-" Rex and I," Ida Maude Preston, 9-James Connor, 4-Willie Sheraton,
2-George Habenicht, -"Wanderers of the L. C," x- Jennie Balch, Jen and Edie, Ir-"The D. P. of the L. G. G. S." i- Alice
C. Schoonmaker, i.



of dots in the foregoing diagram. The central letters, reading from
the bottom upward, will spell the name of a famous American born
in January, many years ago. He is the author of the rebus on the

THE centrals, reading downward, name a certain kind of
CROSS-WORDS: I. Problems. 2. Seasoning. 3. Era. 4.
In cognizant. 5. The god of shepherds. 6 Attendants. 7.
A gift. FRED.

5 7
S. 0o o 2

3 .0 . 0 4
: 6 8

1 FRAME: From x to 2, a name by which the frost-weed is
_- sometimes called; from 3 to 4, a storm with falling snow;
from 5 to 6, a shop where books are kept for sale; from
7 to 8, nameless.
INCLUDED WORD-SQUARE: i. The name of a cold substance,
crystals of which late in autumn shoot from the cracked bark of
the plant named by the letters from I to 2. a. To study. 3. To
terminate. J. P. B.


I. i. A color. 2. A regulation. 3. A girl's name. 4. A
division of time. II. x. To be conveyed. 2. A notion. 3. Beloved.
4. A tide of nobility. III. I. False. 2. Robust. 3. A plant
found in warm countries. 4. To encounter.

THE cross-words are of unequal length.
I. The primals and finals each name a philosopher who died
recently: one an Englishman, one an American.
CROSS-WORDS: i. To long for. z. Fright. 3. A train of attend-
ants. 4. An animal resembling a monkey, peculiar to Madagascar.
5. The edible roots of a creeping plant. 6. A place of restraint.
7. Release.
II. The primals will name the home of the philosopher named by
the primals of the foregoing acrostic; the finals will name the home
of the philosopher named by the finals of the previous acrostic.
CROSS-WORDS: I. A fine, thin fabric. 2. A man of distinguished
valor. 3. To surround. 4. Concise. 5. A dry starch prepared
from the pith of certain palms. 6. A kind of duck. 7. One of the
small planets whose orbit is situated between those of Mars and
Jupiter. DYCIE.

240 ST. NICHOLAS. U~UAscv.


nothing for some Christ-

"THOSE FOUR YOUNGSTERS OF JACK'S" wish that Uncle Theophilus Phipps's memory was as good as his intentions; and little
number five, whom Uncle T. P. has never heard of, thinks the world has all gone wrong.




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