Front Cover
 Little lord Fauntleroy
 Winged seeds
 Personally conducted
 Grandpapa Rosebush
 The kelp-gatherers
 George Washington
 The butterfly and the bee
 Fishes and their young
 A puzzled papa - The wild...
 The boys' paradise
 A boys' camp
 Robin's return
 Little Miss Mabel - Mother's...
 The satchel
 Wonders of the alphabet
 St. Nicholas dog stories
 A recipe
 Riddles for very little folks
 The letter-box
 The Agassiz association - Sixty-second...
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover


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mods:accessCondition type restrictions on use displayLabel Rights All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
mods:identifier OCLC 01764817
mods:languageTerm text English
mods:physicalLocation Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in Special Collections, George A. Smathers Libraries
code UF
mods:name personal
mods:namePart Dodge, Mary Mapes
date 1830-1905
mods:roleTerm authority marcrelator Creator
mods:note Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Suspended Mar. 1940-Feb. 1943; vols. 68-69 omitted.
"A monthly magazine for boys and girls."
Published by: Century, Aug. 1881- ; by Educational Pub. Corp. -1940; by St. Nicholas Magazine, 1943.
funding Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
mods:publisher Scribner,
mods:placeTerm New York
mods:dateIssued June 1886
mods:recordIdentifier source ufdc UF00065513_00172
mods:recordContentSource University of Florida
mods:relatedItem original
mods:extent 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
mods:title St. Nicholas.
mods:detail Enum1
mods:caption Vol. 13
mods:number 13
No. 8
mods:topic Children's literature
Literature for Children
St. Nicholas, vol. 13, no. 8
Saint Nicholas
mods:typeOfResource text
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METS:structMap STRUCT1 mixed
D1 Front Cover
P1 Page
D2 Frontispiece
P3 562
D3 "Once-on-a-time" 3 Poem
P4 563
D4 Little lord Fauntleroy 4 Chapter
P5 564
P6 565
P7 566
P8 567
P9 568 5
P10 569 6
P11 570 7
D5 Winged seeds
P12 571
D6 Personally conducted
P13 572
P14 573
P15 574
P16 575
P17 576
P18 577
P19 578
P20 579
P21 580 9
P22 581 10
P23 582 11
D7 Grandpapa Rosebush
P24 583
D8 The kelp-gatherers
P25 584
P26 585
P27 586
P28 587
P29 588
P30 589
D9 George Washington
P31 590
P32 591
P33 592
P34 593
P35 594
P36 595
P37 596
P38 597
P39 598
D10 butterfly and the bee
P40 599
D11 Fishes their young
P41 600
P42 601
P43 602
D12 A puzzled papa 12
P44 603 (MULTIPLE)
D13 boys' paradise
P45 604
P46 605
P47 606
D14 camp 14
P48 607
P49 608
P50 609
P51 610
P52 611
D15 Robin's return 15
P53 612
D16 Miss Mabel 16
P54 613
P55 614
P56 615
D17 satchel 17
P57 616
P58 617
P59 618
P60 619
P61 620
D18 Wonders alphabet 18
P62 621
P63 622
P64 623
D19 Nicholas dog stories 19
P65 624
P66 625
P67 626
P68 627
P69 628
D20 recipe 20
P70 629
D21 Riddles for very little folks 21
P71 630
P72 631
D22 Jack-in-the-pulpit 22
P73 632
P74 633
D23 letter-box 23
P75 634
P76 635
D24 Agassiz association Sixty-second report 24
P77 636
P78 637
P79 638
D25 riddle-box 25
P80 639
P81 640
D26 26 Back
D27 27 Spine
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St. Nicholas
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00172
 Material Information
Title: St. Nicholas
Uniform Title: St. Nicholas (New York, N.Y.)
Portion of 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
Subjects / Keywords: Children's literature -- Periodicals   ( lcsh )
Genre: periodical   ( marcgt )
serial   ( sobekcm )
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
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
System ID: UF00065513:00172
 Related Items
Preceded by: Our young folks
Preceded by: Children's hour (Philadelphia, Penn.)
Preceded by: Little corporal
Preceded by: Schoolday magazine
Preceded by: Wide awake

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
        Page 562
        Page 563
    Little lord Fauntleroy
        Page 564
        Page 565
        Page 566
        Page 567
        Page 568
        Page 569
        Page 570
    Winged seeds
        Page 571
    Personally conducted
        Page 572
        Page 573
        Page 574
        Page 575
        Page 576
        Page 577
        Page 578
        Page 579
        Page 580
        Page 581
        Page 582
    Grandpapa Rosebush
        Page 583
    The kelp-gatherers
        Page 584
        Page 585
        Page 586
        Page 587
        Page 588
        Page 589
    George Washington
        Page 590
        Page 591
        Page 592
        Page 593
        Page 594
        Page 595
        Page 596
        Page 597
        Page 598
    The butterfly and the bee
        Page 599
    Fishes and their young
        Page 600
        Page 601
        Page 602
    A puzzled papa - The wild flowers
        Page 603
    The boys' paradise
        Page 604
        Page 605
        Page 606
    A boys' camp
        Page 607
        Page 608
        Page 609
        Page 610
        Page 611
    Robin's return
        Page 612
    Little Miss Mabel - Mother's Idea
        Page 613
        Page 614
        Page 615
    The satchel
        Page 616
        Page 617
        Page 618
        Page 619
        Page 620
    Wonders of the alphabet
        Page 621
        Page 622
        Page 623
    St. Nicholas dog stories
        Page 624
        Page 625
        Page 626
        Page 627
        Page 628
    A recipe
        Page 629
    Riddles for very little folks
        Page 630
        Page 631
        Page 632
        Page 633
    The letter-box
        Page 634
        Page 635
    The Agassiz association - Sixty-second report
        Page 636
        Page 637
        Page 638
    The riddle-box
        Page 639
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VOL. XIII. JUNE, 1886. No. 8.

[Copyright, 1886, by THE CENTURY CO.]



HEIGH-HO What frolics we might see,
If it only had happened to you and me
To be born in some beautiful far-off clime,
In the country of Somewhere, once=on-a=time 1

Why, once-on-a-time there were mountains of gold,
And cans full of jewels, and treasures untold;
There were birds just waiting to fly before
And show you the way to the magical door.
And, under a tree, there was sure to be
A queer little woman to give you the key;
And a tiny, dancing, good-natured elf,
To say, with his scepter: Help yourself! "
For millions of dollars grew from a dime
In the country of Somewhere, once-on-a-time.
If we lived in the country of Somewhere, you
Could do whatever you chose to do.
Instead of a boy, with the garden to weed,
You might be a knight, with a sword and a steed.
Instead of a girl, with a towel to hem,
I might be a princess, with robe and gem;
With a gay little page, and a harper old,
Who knew all the stories that ever were told,-
Stories in prose, and stories in rhyme,
That happened somewhere, once-on-a-time.
In the country of Somewhere, no one looks
At maps and blackboards and grammar books;
For all your knowledge just grows and grows,
Like the song in a bird, or the sweet in a rose.
And if ever I chance, on a fortunate day,
To that wonderful region to find my way,
Why then, if the stories all are true,
As quick as I can, I '11 come for you,
And we '11 row away to its happy shores,
In a silver shallop with golden oars.





LORD DORINCOURT had occasion to wear his
grim smile many a time as the days passed by. In-
deed, as his acquaintance with his grandson pro-
gressed, he wore the smile so often that there were
moments when it almost lost its grimness. There
is no denying that before Lord Fauntleroy had
appeared on the scene, the old man had been
growing very tired of his loneliness and his gout
and his seventy years. After so long a life of
excitement and amusement, it was not agreeable
to sit alone even in the most splendid room, with
one foot on a gout-stool, and with no other diver-
sion than flying into a rage, and shouting at a
frightened footman who hated the sight of him.
The old Earl was too clever a man not to know
perfectly well that his servants detested him, and
that even if he had visitors, they did not come for
love of him-though some found a sort of amuse-
ment in his sharp, sarcastic talk, which spared
no one. So long as he had been strong and well,
he had gone from one place to another, pretending
to amuse himself, though he had not really enjoyed
it; and when his health began to fail, he felt tired
of everything and shut himself up at Dorincourt,
with his gout and his newspapers and his books.
But he could not read all the time, and he became
more and more bored," as he called it. He hated
the long nights and days, and he grew more and
more savage and irritable. And then Fauntleroy
came; and when the Earl saw the lad, fortunately
for the little fellow, the secret pride of the grand-
father was gratified at the outset. If Cedric had
been a less handsome little fellow the old man
might have taken so strong a dislike to the boy
that he would not have given himself the chance
to see his grandson's finer qualities. But he chose
to think that Cedric's beauty and fearless spirit
were the results of the Dorincourt blood and a
credit to the Dorincourt rank. And then when he
heard the lad talk, and saw what a well bred little
fellow he was, notwithstanding his boyish ignorance
of all that his new position meant, the old Earl
liked his grandson more, and actually began to
find himself rather entertained. It had amused
him to give into those childish hands the power
to bestow a benefit on poor Higgins. My lord
cared nothing for poor Higgins, but it pleased
him a little to think that his grandson would be
talked about by the country people and would

begin to be popular with the tenantry, even in his
childhood. Then it had gratified him to drive to
church with Cedric and to see the excitement and
interest caused by the arrival. He knew how the
people would speak of the beauty of the little lad;
of his fine, strong, straight little body; of his erect
bearing, his handsome face, and his bright hair,
and how they would say (as the Earl had heard
one woman exclaim to another) that the boy was
" every inch a lord." My lord of Dorincourt was
an arrogant old man, proud of his name, proud of
his rank, and therefore proud to show the world
that at last the House of Dorincourt had an heir
who was worthy of the position he was to fill.
The morning the new pony had been tried, the
Earl had been so pleased that he had almost for-
gotten his gout. When the groom had brought
out the pretty creature, which arched its brown,
glossy neck and tossed its fine head in the sun, the
Earl had sat at the open window of the library and
had looked on while Fauntleroy took his first rid-
ing lesson. He wondered if the boy would show
signs of timidity. It was not a very small pony,
and he had often seen children lose courage in
making their first essay at riding.
Fauntleroy mounted in great delight. He had
never been on a pony before, and he was in the
highest spirits. Wilkins, the groom, led the animal
by the bridle up and down before the library
"He 's a well plucked un, he is," Wilkins re-
marked in the stable afterward with many grins.
" It were n't no trouble to put him up. An' a old
un would n't ha' sat any straighter when he were
up. He ses-ses he to me, Wilkins,' he ses,
' am I sitting up straight ? They sit up straight
at the circus,' ses he. An' I ses, As straight
as a arrer, your lordship '- an' he laughs, as
pleased as could be, an' he ses, That's right,'
he ses, 'you tell me if I don't sit up straight,
Wilkins '"
But sitting up straight and being led at a walk
were not altogether and completely satisfactory.
After a few minutes, Fauntleroy spoke to his grand-
father- watching him from the window:
Can't I go by myself? he asked; and can't
I go faster? The boy on Fifth Avenue used to
trot and canter "
Do you think you could trot and canter ? said
the Earl.
I should like to try," answered Fauntleroy.



His lordship made a sign to Wilkins, who at
the signal brought up his own horse and mounted
it and took Fauntleroy's pony by the leading-rein.
Now." said the Earl. let him trot."

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I 'm ri-rising all the t-time," said Fauntleroy.
He was both rising and falling rather uncom-
fortably and with many shakes and bounces. He

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"No, my lord," answered Wilkins. You '11 was out of breath and his face grew red, but he
get used to it in time. Rise in your stirrups." held on with all his might, and sat as straight as


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he could. The Earl could see that from his window.
When the riders came back within speaking dis-
tance, after they had been hidden by the trees a
few minutes, Fauntleroy's hat was off, his cheeks
were like poppies, and his lips were set, but he
was still trotting manfully.
Stop a minute !" said his grandfather.
" Where 's your hat ?"
Wilkins touched his. It fell off, your lord-
ship," he said, with evident enjoyment. Would
n't let me stop to pick it up, my lord."
Not much afraid, is he ?" asked the Earl, dryly.
Him, your lordship! exclaimed Wilkins. I
should n't say as he knowed what it meant. I 've
taught young gen'lemen to ride afore, an' I never
see one stick on more determin'der."
Tired?" said the Earl to Fauntleroy. Want
to get off?"
It jolts you more than you think it will," ad-
mitted his young lordship frankly. And it tires
you a little, too; but I don't want to get off. I
want to learn how. As soon as I've got my breath
I want to go back for the hat."
The cleverest person in the world, if he had
undertaken to teach Fauntleroy how to please the
old man who watched him, could not have taught
him anything which would have succeeded better.
As the pony trotted off again toward the avenue,
a faint color crept up in the fierce old face, and the
eyes, under the shaggy brows, gleamed with a pleas-
ure such as his lordship had scarcely expected to
know again. And he sat and watched quite eagerly
until the sound of the horses' hoofs returned.
When they did come, which was after some time,
they came at a faster pace. Fauntleroy's hat was
still off; Wilkins was carryingit for him; his cheeks
were redder than before, and his hair was flying
about his ears, but he came at quite a brisk canter.
There !" he panted, as they drew up, I c-can-
tered. I did n't do it as well as the boy on Fifth
Avenue, but I did it, and I stayed on "
He and Wilkins and the pony were close friends
after that. Scarcely a day passed in which the
country people did not see them out together,
cantering gayly on the highroad or through the
green lanes. The children in the cottages would
run to the door to look at the proud little brown
pony with the gallant little figure sitting so straight
in the saddle, and the young lord would snatch off
his cap and swing it at them, and shout, Hullo !
Good morning! in a very unlordly manner,
though with great heartiness. Sometimes he
would stop and talk with the children, and once
Wilkins came back to the castle with a story of
how Fauntleroy had insisted on dismounting near
the village school, so that a boy who was lame and
tired might ride home on his pony.

"An' I 'm blessed," said Wilkins, in telling the
story at the stables,- I 'm blessed if he'd hear
of anything else! He would n't let me get down,
because he said the boy might n't feel comfortable
on a big horse. An' ses he, 'Wilkins,' ses he,
' that boy's lame and I 'm not, and I want to talk
to him, too.' And up the lad has to get, and my
lord trudges alongside of him with his hands in
his pockets, and his cap on the back of his head,
a-whistling and talking as easy as you please! And
when we come to the cottage, an' the boy's mother
come out all in a taking to see what's up, he whips
off his cap an' ses he, I 've brought your son home,
ma'am,' ses he, 'because his leg hurt him, and I
don't think that stick is enough for him to lean on ;
and I 'm going to ask my grandfather to have a pair
of crutches made for him.' An' I 'm blessed if the
woman was n't struck all of a heap, as well she right
be! I thought I should 'a' hex-plodid, myself!'"
When the Earl heard the story, he was not
angry, as Wilkins had been half afraid that he
would be; on the contrary, he laughed outright,
and called Fauntleroy up to him, and made him tell
all about the matter from beginning to end, and
then he laughed again. And actually, a few days
later, the Dorincourt carriage stopped in the
green lane before the cottage where the lame boy
lived, and Fauntleroy jumped out and walked up
to the door, carrying a pair of strong, light, new
crutches, shouldered like a gun, and presented
them to Mrs. Hartle (the lame boy's name was
Hartle) with these words: "My grandfather's
compliments, and if you please, these are for your
boy, and we hope he will get better."
"I said your compliments," he explained to the
Earl when he returned to the carriage. "You
did n't tell me to, but I thought, perhaps, you
forgot. That was right, was n't it ? "
And the Earl laughed again, and did not
say it was not. In fact, the two were becom-
ing more intimate every day, and every day
Fauntleroy's faith in his lordship's benevolence
and virtue increased. He had no doubt whatever
that his grandfather was the most amiable and
generous of elderly gentlemen. Certainly, he him-
self found his wishes gratified almost before they
were uttered; and such gifts and pleasures were
lavished upon him, that he was sometimes almost
bewildered by his own possessions. Apparently,
he was to have everything he wanted, and to do
everything he wished to do. And though this would
certainly not have been a very wise plan to pursue
with all small boys, his young lordship bore it
amazingly well. Perhaps, notwithstanding his
sweet nature, he might have been somewhat
spoiled by it, if it had not been for the hours he
spent with his mother at Court Lodge. That "best



friend" of his watched over him very closely and
tenderly. The two had many long talks together,
and he never went back to the castle with her
kisses on his cheeks without carrying in his heart
some simple, pure words worth remembering.
There was one thing, it is true, which puzzled
the little fellow very much. He thought over the
mystery of it much oftener than any one supposed;
even his mother did not know how often he pon-
dered on it; the Earl for a long time never sus-
pected that he did so at all. But being quick to
observe, the little boy could not help wondering
why it was that his mother and grandfather never
seemed to meet. He had noticed that they never
did meet. When the Dorincourt carriage stopped
at Court Lodge, the Earl never alighted, and on the
rare occasions of his lordship's going to church,
Fauntleroy was always left to speak to his mother
in the porch alone, or perhaps to go home with her.
And yet, every day, fruit and flowers were sent to
Court Lodge from the hot-houses at the castle.
But the one virtuous action of the Earl's which
had set him upon the pinnacle of perfection in
Cedric's eyes, was what he had done soon after
that first Sunday when Mrs. Errol had walked
home from church unattended. About a week
later, when Cedric was going one day to visit his
mother, he found at the door, instead of the large
carriage and prancing pair, a pretty little brougham
and a handsome bay horse.
That is a present from you to your mother,"
the Earl said abruptly. She can not go walking
about the country. She needs a carriage. The
man who drives will take charge of it. It is a
present from you."
Fauntleroy's delight could but feebly express
itself. He could scarcely contain himself until he
reached the lodge. His mother was gathering
roses in the garden. He flung himself out of the
little brougham and flew to her.
Dearest! he cried, could you believe it?
This is yours! He says it is a present from me.
It is your own carriage to drive everywhere in "
He was so happy that she did not know what to
say. She could not have borne to spoil his pleas-
ure by refusing to accept the gift even though it came
from the man who chose to consider himself her
enemy. She was obliged to step into the carriage,
roses and all, and let herself be taken to drive,
while Fauntleroy told her stories of his grand-
father's goodness and amiability. They were such
innocent stories that sometimes she could not help
laughing a little, and then she would draw her
little boy closer to her side and kiss him, feeling
glad that he could see only good in the old man
who had so few friends.
The very next day after that, Fauntleroy wrote

to Mr. Hobbs. He wrote quite a long letter, and
after the first copy was written, he brought it to
his grandfather to be inspected.
Because," he said, "it s so uncertain about
the spelling. And if you 'll tell me the mistakes,
I '11 write it out again."
This was what he had written:
My dear mr hobbs i want to tell you about my granfarther he
is the best earl you ever new it is a mistake about earls being tirents
he is not a tirent at all i wish you new him you would be good
friends i am sure you would he has the gout in his foot and is
a grate sufrer but he is so pashent i love him more every day
because no one could help loving an earl like that who is kind
to every one in this world i wish you could talk to him he
knows everything in the world you can ask him any question but he
has never plaid base ball he has given me a pony and a cart and my
mamma a bewtifle carige and I have three rooms and toys of all kinds
it would surprise you you would like the castle and the park it is such
a large castle you could lose yourself wilkins tells me wilkins
is my groom he says there is a dungon under the castle it is so
pretty every thing in the park would surprise you there are such big
trees and there are deers and rabbits and games flying about in the
cover my granfarther is very rich but he is not proud and orty as
you thought earls always were i like to be with him the people are
so polite and kind they take of their hats to you and the women
make curtsies and sometimes say god bless you i can ride now but
at first it shook me when i troted my granfarther let a poor man
stay on his farm when he could not pay his rent and mrs mellon
went to take wine and things to his sick children i should like to see
you and i wish dearest could live at the castle but I am very happy
when i don't miss her too much and i love my granfarther every
one does plees write soon
"your afechshnet old friend
"Cedric Errol
"p s no one is in the dungon my granfarther never had any one
langwishin in there
"ps heis such good earl he reminds me ofyouhe is a unerversle
favrit "
Do you miss your mother very much ?" asked
the Earl when he had finished reading this.
"Yes," said Fauntleroy, "I miss her all the
He went and stood before the Earl and put his
hand on his knee looking up at him.
You don't miss her, do you ?" he said.
"I don't know her," answered his lordship
rather crustily.
I know that," said Fauntleroy, and that 's
what makes me wonder. She told me not to ask
you any questions, and- and I wont, but sometimes
I can't help thinking, you know, and it makes
me all puzzled. But I 'm not going to ask any
questions. And when I miss her very much, I go
and look out of my window to where I see her light
shine for me every night through an open place
in the trees. It is a long way off, but she puts it
in her window as soon as it is dark and I can see
it twinkle far away, and I know what it says."
What does it say ? asked my lord.
It says, Good-night, God keep you all the
night! '-just what she used to say when we were to-
gether. Every night she used to say that to me, and
every morning she said, 'God bless you all the day!
So you see I am quite safe all the time--"



Quite, I have no doubt," said his lordship
dryly. And he drew down his beetling eyebrows
and looked at the little boy so fixedly and so long
that Fauntleroy wondered what he could be think-
ing of.

THE fact was, his lordship the Earl of Dorin-
court thought in those days, of many things of
which he had never thought before, and all his
thoughts were in one way or another connected
with his grandson. His pride was the strongest
part of his nature, and the boy gratified it at every
point. Through this pride he began to find a new
interest in life. He began to take pleasure in
showing his heir to the world. The world had
known of his disappointment in his sons; so there
was an agreeable touch of triumph in exhibiting
this new Lord Fauntleroy, who could disappoint no
one. He wished the child to appreciate his own
power and to understand the splendor of his posi-
tion; he wished that others should realize it too.
He made plans for his future. Sometimes in secret
he actually found himself wishing that his own
past life had been a better one, and that there had
been less in it that this pure, childish heart would
shrink from if it knew the truth. It was not agree-
able to think how the beautiful, innocent face
would look if its owner should be made by any
chance to understand that his grandfather had been
called for many a year the wicked Earl of Dorin-
court." The thought even made him feel a trifle
nervous. He did not wish the boy to find it out.
Sometimes in this new interest he forgot his gout,
and after a while his doctor was surprised to find his
noble patient's health growing better than he had
expected it ever would be again. Perhaps the
Earl grew better because the time did not pass so
slowly for him, and he had something to think of
beside his pains and infirmities.
One fine morning, people were amazed to see
little Lord Fauntleroy riding his pony with another
companion than Wilkins. This new companion
rode a tall, powerful gray horse, and was no other
than the Earl himself. It was, in fact, Fauntleroy
who had suggested this plan. As he had been on
the point of mounting his pony he had said rather
wistfully to his grandfather:
I wish you were going with me. When I go
away I feellonelybecause you areleftall byyourself
in such a big castle. I wish you could ride too."
And the greatest excitement had been aroused
in the stables a few minutes later by the arrival of
an order that Selim was to be saddled for the Earl.
After that, Selim was saddled almost every day;
and the people became accustomed to the sight of
the tall gray horse carrying the tall gray old man,

with his handsome, fierce, eagle face, by the side
of the brown pony which bore little Lord Faun-
tieroy. And in their rides together through the
green lanes and pretty country roads, the two riders
became more intimate than ever. And gradually
the old man heard a great deal about Dearest"
and her life. As Fauntleroy trotted by the big
horse he chatted gayly. There could not well have
been a brighter little comrade, his nature was so
happy. It was he who talked the most. The
Earl often was silent, listening and watching the
joyous, glowing face. Sometimes he would tell his
young companion to set the pony off at a gallop,
and when the little fellow dashed off, sitting so
straight and fearless, he would watch the boy
with a gleam of pride and pleasure in his eyes;
and Fauntleroy, when, after such a dash, he came
back waving his cap with a laughing shout, always
felt that he and his grandfather were very good
friends indeed.
One thing that the Earl discovered was that his
son's wife did not lead an idle life. It was not
long before he learned that the poor people knew
her very well indeed. When there was sickness or
sorrow or poverty in any house, the little brougham
often stood before the door.
"Do you know," said Fauntleroy once, "they all
say, God bless you'! when they see her, and the
children are glad. There are some who go to her
house to.be taught to sew. She says she feels so
rich now that she wants to help the poor ones."
It had not displeased the Earl to find that the
mother of his heir had a beautiful young face and
looked as much like a lady as if she had been a
duchess, and in one way it did not displease him
to know that she was popular and beloved by the
poor. And yet he was often conscious of a hard,
jealous pang when he saw how she filled her child's
heart and how the boy clung to her as his best
beloved. The old man would have desired to
stand first himself and have no rival.
That same morning he drew up his horse on an
elevated point of the moor over which they rode,
and made a gesture with his whip, over the broad,
beautiful landscape spread before them.
"Do you know that all that land belongs to
me ?" he said to Fauntleroy.
"Does it?" answered Fauntleroy. "How much
it is to belong to one person, and how beautiful! "
"Do you know that some day it will all belong
to you -that and a great deal more? "
"To me exclaimed Fauntleroy in rather an
awe-stricken voice. "When?"
"When I am dead," his grandfather answered.
"Then I don't want it," said Fauntleroy; "I
want you to live always."
"That's kind," answered the Earl in his dry





way; "nevertheless, some day it will all be yours
-some day you will be the Earl of Dorincourt."
Little Lord Fauntleroy sat very still in his saddle
for a few moments. He looked over the broad
moors, the green farms, the beautiful copses, the cot-
tages in the lanes, the pretty village, and over the


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very rich; that if any one had so many things
always, one might sometimes forget that every one
else was not so fortunate, and that one who is rich
should always be careful and try to remember. I
was talking to her about how good you were, and
she said that was such a good thing, because an

- s

trees to where the turrets of the great castle rose, earl had so much power, and if he cared only
gray and stately. Then he gave a queer little sigh. about his own pleasure and never thought about
"What are you thinking of?" asked the Earl. the people who lived on his lands, they might have
I am thinking," replied Fauntleroy, "what a trouble that he could help--and there were so
little boy I am and of what Dearest said to me." many people, and it would be such a hard thing.
"What was it?" inquired the Earl. And I was just looking at all those houses, and
She said that perhaps it was not so easy to be thinking how I should have to find out about the




people, when I was an earl. How did you find
out about them?"
As his lordship's knowledge of his tenantry con-
sisted in finding out which of them paid their rent
promptly, and in turning out those who did not,
this was rather a hard question. "Newick finds
out for me," he said, and he pulled his great gray
mustache, and looked at his small questioner
rather uneasily. "We will go home now," he
added; and when you are an earl, see to it
that you are a better one than I have been "
He was very silent as they rode home. He felt
it to be almost incredible that he, who had never
really loved any one in his life, should find himself
growing so fond of this little fellow,- as without
doubt he was. At first he had only been pleased
and proud of Cedric's beauty and bravery, but there
was something more than pride in his feeling now.
He laughed a grim, dry laugh all to himself some-
times, when he thought how he liked to have the
boy near him, how he liked to hear his voice, and
how in secret he really wished to be liked and
thought well of by his small grandson.
I 'm an old fellow in my dotage, and I have
nothing else to think of," he would say to himself;
and yet he knew it was not that altogether. And if
he had allowed himself to admit the truth, he would
perhaps have found himself obliged to own that
the very things which attracted him, in spite of
himself, were the qualities he had never possessed
-the frank, true, kindly nature, the affectionate
trustfulness which could never think evil.
It was only about a week after that ride when,
after a visit to his mother, Fauntleroy came into
the library with a troubled, thoughtful face. He
sat down in that high-backed chair in which he had
sat on the evening of his arrival, and for a while he
looked at the embers on the hearth. The Earl
watched him in silence, wondering what was com-
ing. It was evident that Cedric had something on
his mind. At last he looked up. Does Newick
know all about the people ?" he asked.
It is his business to know about them," said
his lordship. Been neglecting it has he ? "
Contradictory as it may seem, there was nothing
which entertained and edified him more than the
little fellow's interest in his tenantry. He had
never taken any interest in them himself, but it
pleased him well enough that, with all his childish
habits of thought and in the midst of all his childish
amusements and high spirits, there should be such
a quaint seriousness working in the curly head.
"There is a place," said Fauntleroy, looking
up at him with wide-open, horror-stricken eyes-
" Dearest has seen it; it is at the other end of the
village. The houses are close together, and almost
falling down; you can scarcely breathe; and the

people are so poor, and everything is dreadful!
Often they have fever, and the children die; and
it makes them wicked to live like that, and be so
poor and miserable It is worse than Michael and
Bridget! The rain comes in at the roof! Dearest
went to see a poor woman who lived there. She
would not let me come near her until she had
changed all her things. The tears ran down her
cheeks when she told me about it!"
The tears had come into his own eyes, but he
smiled through them.
"I told her you did n't know, and I would tell
you," he said. He jumped down and came and
leaned against the Earl's chair. "You can make
it all right," he said, "just as you made it all right
for Higgins. You always make it all right for every-
body. I told her you would, and that Newick must
have forgotten to tell you."
The Earl looked down at the hand on his knee.
Newick had not forgotten to tell him; in fact, New-
ick had spoken to him more than once of the des-
perate condition of the end of the village known as
Earl's Court. He knew all about the tumble-down,
miserable cottages, and the bad drainage, and the
damp walls and broken windows and leaking roofs,
and all about the poverty, the fever, and the misery.
Mr. Mordaunt had painted it all to him in the
strongest words he could use, and his lordship had
used violent language in response; and, when his
gout had been at the worst, he had said that the
sooner the people of Earl's Court died and were
buried by the parish the better it would be,-and
there was an end of the matter. And yet, as he
looked at the small hand on his knee, and from
the small hand to the honest, earnest, frank-eyed
face, he was actually a little ashamed both of
Earl's Court and of himself.
"What !" he said; "you want to make a builder
of model cottages of me, do you ?" And he posi-
tively put his own hand upon the childish one and
stroked it.
Those must be pulled down," said Fauntleroy,
with great eagerness. "Dearest says so. Let
us-let us go and have them pulled down to-
morrow. The people will be so glad when they see
you! They 'll know you have come to help them !"
And his eyes shone like stars in his glowing face.
The Earl rose from his chair and put his hand
on the child's shoulder. Let us go out and take
our walk on the terrace," he said, with a short
laugh; "and we can talk it over."
And though he laughed two or three times
again, as they walked to and fro on the broad
stone terrace, where they walked together almost
every fine evening, he seemed to be thinking of
something which did not displease him, and still he
kept his hand on his small companion's shoulder.






OH, gold-green wings, and bronze-green wings,
And rose-tinged wings, that down the breeze
Come sailing from the maple-trees!
You showering things, you shimmering things,
That June-time always brings!
Oh, are you seeds that seek the earth,
The shade of lovely leaves to spread?
Or shining angels, that had birth
When kindly words were said?

Oh, downy dandelion-wings,
Wild-floating wings, like silver spun,
That dance and glisten in the sun!
You airy things, you elfin things,
That June-time always brings !
Oh, are you seeds that seek the earth,
The light of laughing flowers to spread?
Or flitting fairies, that had birth
When merry words were said?


572 QUEEN PARIS. [Juss,





WE have already been in Paris, but we saw very
little of it, as we were merely passing through the
city on our way to the south of France; and my
young companions should not go home without form-
ing an acquaintance with a city which, on account
of its importance and unrivaled attractiveness, may
be called the queen city of the world, just as London,
with its wealth, its size, and its influence, which is
felt all over our globe, is the king of cities. In
Rome, and in other cities of Italy, we have seen
what Europe used to be, both in ancient times and
in the Middle Ages; but there is no one place
which will show us so well what Europe is to-day,
as Paris.
It is an immense city, being surrounded by ram-
parts twenty-one miles long, and is full of broad and
handsome streets, magnificent buildings, grand
open spaces with fountains and statues, great pub-
lic gardens and parks free to everybody, and (what
is more attractive to some people than anything
else) it has miles and miles of stores and shops,
which are filled with the most beautiful and interest-
ing things that are made or found in any part of
the world. All these articles are arranged and
displayed so artistically, that people buy things in
Paris which they would never think of buying any-
where else, simply because they had never before
noticed how desirable such things were. But,
even if we do not wish to spend any money, we can
still enjoy the rare and beautiful objects for which
Paris is famous; they are nearly all in the shop
windows, and we can walk about and admire them
for nothing and as much as we please.
In many respects Paris is as lively as Naples; as
grand as Rome; as beautiful, but in a different
way, as Venice; almost as rich in remains of the
Middle Ages as Florence; and yet, after all, it
will remind you of none of those cities.
Before we visit any particular place in Paris,
we shall start out to explore the city as a whole;
although I do not mean to say that we shall go
over the whole of the city. Those of us who
choose will walk, and that is the best way to see
Paris, for we are continually meeting with some-
thing that we wish to stop and look at; but such
as do not wish to take so long a walk may ride in
the voitures, or public carriages, which abound in

the streets of Paris. In fine weather, these are
convenient little open vehicles, intended to carry
two persons, though more can be sometimes ac-
commodated. They can be hired for two francs
(about forty cents) an hour, with the addition of a
small sum called a four-boire, to which the driver is
by custom entitled. Nearly everywhere we may see
empty voitures, their drivers looking out for custom-
ers. When we want one, we do not call for it, nor
do we stand on the curbstone and whistle, as if we
were stopping a Fifth Avenue stage: If no driver
sees us so that we can beckon to him, we follow
the Parisian custom, and going to the edge of the
pavement, give a strong hiss between our closed
teeth. Instantly the nearest cocker, or driver, pulls
up his horse and looks about him to see where
that hiss comes from, and when he sees us, he
comes around with a sweep in front of us.
The river Seine runs through Paris, and winds
and doubles so much that there are seven miles
of it within the city walls. It is crossed by twenty-
seven bridges, and from one of these, the Pont de la
Concorde, we shall start on our tour through Paris.
The upper part of this bridge is built of stones
taken from the Bastille prison after its destruction
by the enraged people. Thus the Parisians can
feel, when they cross this bridge, that they are
treading under foot a portion of the building they
so greatly abhorred. The view up and down the
river is very fine, and gives us a good idea of the
city we are about to explore. As we cross to the
northern side of the Seine, on which lies the most
important part of Paris, we have directly in front
of us, the great Place de la Concorde, a fine open
square, in the center of which rises an obelisk
brought from Egypt. Here are magnificent foun-
tains, handsome statuary on tall pedestals, and
crowds of vehicles and foot-passengers crossing it
in every direction, making a picturesque and
lively scene. This was not always as pleasant a
place as it is now, for during the great French Revo-
lution the guillotine stood in this square, and here
were executed two thousand eight hundred persons,
among whom were Queen Marie Antoinette and
her husband, Louis XVI. To the east of this
square extends for a long distance the beautiful
garden of the Tuileries, which belonged to the
royal palace of that name, before it was destroyed.
This garden is shaded by long lines of trees, and
adorned with fountains and statues. On its southern
side is an elevated walk, or terrace, very broad and





handsome, and about half a mile long. In the
reign of the Emperor Napoleon the Third, this
walk was appropriated to the daily exercise of the
Prince Imperial. Here the young fellow could
walk up and down without being interfered with
by the people below; and underneath was a cov-
ered passage in which he could take long walks in
rainy weather.
On the other side of the great square extends a
broad and magnificent street, a mile and a third in

wished to humiliate the French people, they could
not have thought of a better plan. But the French
people whom we now see here on fine afternoons
do not look at all humiliated. They walk about
under the trees; they sit upon the thousands of
prettily painted iron chairs which are hired out at
two cents apiece for a whole day; they drive up
and down in the finest carriages that money can
buy; and, so far as we can discover by looking at
them, they are as well content and have as good


length, called the Avenue des Champs Elys6es.
On each side, for nearly half a mile, this street is
bordered by pleasure-grounds, beautifully laid out
and planted with trees; and for the rest of the way
it runs between two double rows of trees to the
great Arch of Triumph, built by Napoleon Bona-
parte to commemorate his victories. This arch is
like those erected by the Roman emperors, and is
covered with inscriptions and sculptures recording
the glorious achievements of the great Napoleon.
When Paris was taken by the Prussians in the
war of 1871, the German army marched into the
city through this arch of triumph; and if they

an opinion of themselves as any people in the
world. The pavement of the street and that of
the great square is as smooth as a floor, and kept
very neat and clean. This is the case indeed
in nearly all the principal streets of Paris, and
it is a pleasure to drive over their smooth and
even pavements. But after a rain it is not so
agreeable to walk across these streets, which are
then covered with a coating of very sticky white
On the northern side of the square is a handsome
street of moderate length, called the Rue Royale.
It is filled with fine shops, and is very animated



and lively. At its upper end stands the beautiful
church of the Madeleine, fashioned like a Grecian
temple. We go up this street, and when we reach
the broad space about the Madeleine, part of
which is occupied as a flower-market, with long
lines of booths crowded with many varieties of
blossoms and plants, we find ourselves at the be-
ginning of the magnificent line of streets, which

show-windows full of beautiful objects will con-
tinually attract our attention, they can not keep
our eyes from the wonderful life and activity of the
streets. The broad sidewalks, of course, are crowded
with people, though no more than we often meet on
Broadway, m New York, but the throng is pecu-
liar because it is made up of such a variety of
people who seem to be doing so many different


are called the boulevards of Paris. The word things: ladies and gentlemen dressed in the latest
boulevards means ramparts or bulwarks, and this fashions; working men in blue blouses; working
longline of streets is built where the old ramparts women, always without any head-covering; boys
of Paris used to stand. Of late, however, the and men with wooden shoes; gentlemen, and often
word has been applied to many of the other broad ladies, sitting at little tables placed on the side-
and splendid streets for which Paris is famous. walk in front of caf6s, drinking coffee, or taking
This crowded, lively, and interesting thorough- some other refreshment; soldier-policemen march-
fare is over two miles long, and is, in fact, but one ing up and down, and looking very inoffensive;
great street, although it is divided into eleven sec- now and then a priest in long black clothes, and a
tions, called the Boulevard de la Madeleine, Boule- broad felt hat. But yet among this multitude of
vard des Capucines, Boulevard des Italiens, etc. people we seldom meet any one who is dashing
These boulevards do not extend in a straight line, along as if he were trying to catch a train or a
but make a great sweep to the north, and come boat, or to do something else for which he is
down again to within a short distance of the river, afraid there is not time enough. Here and there
On each side of this wide line of streets are we see, standing close to the curbstone, a little
splendid shops and stores, caf6s, restaurants, and round wooden house, prettily ornamented, in-
handsome hotels; and before we have gone very side of which a woman sits selling newspapers
far we shall see, standing back in an open space, which are displayed at the open window. These
the Grand Opera House of Paris. It is a magnifi- houses are called kiosks, and they take the place
cent building both inside and out; it is the largest of the newspaper stands in our country. As far as
theater in the world, and covers three acres of possible, the French like to make their useful things
ground. ornamental, and these kiosks add very much to the
But though the fine buildings and the dazzling appearance of the streets.

1 -


Occasionally we come to the opening of a cov- not very far apart, and the people who wait here for
ered arcade, extending a long distance back from them are provided with numbered tickets, which
the street, and crowded on both sides with shops, they procure from the agent at the station, so that
the pavement in the center being occupied only by when the omnibus comes, as many as can be ac-
foot-passengers. These arcades are called pas-
sages, and are among the most interesting feat- ---..
ures of Paris. The shops here are generally -I==- .: si
small, but they display their goods in a very - F1,7 L. "
enticing way. Some of the passages contain
cafes and restaurants, and one of them is almost -- --
entirely devoted to the sale of toys and presents 7-
for children.
In another passage we shall find a very won- ,i
derful wax-work show, which, although it is #! -'.' i
not so large as the famous exhibition of Madame a i
Tussaud in London, is, in many respects, much i, '.
more interesting. There are figures here of all "1 i ;- 'I
kinds, many of celebrated people, but instead '
of being set up stiffly around a room, they are 'I F.- *i,!,'r]q1
arranged in groups in separate compartments, 1. i
and in natural positions, as if they were saying 1111I11
or doing something. In the center of the room .-
is a studio, in which the artist, who looks as .-. ---
natural as life, is painting a picture of a girl :.-_---
standing at a little distance from him, while PORTE ST. DENIS. (SEE NEXT PAGE.)
behind him another girl is peeping over his
shoulder to see how he is getting on, and she commodated take their seats in regular order,
looks so life-like that we can almost expect to hear according to the number of their tickets. In this
her say what she thinks about it. Near by, some way, there is no crowding and pushing to get in,
ladies and gentlemen are looking over portfolios
of drawings, other visitors are talking together --- -= --
and examining the pictures on the walls, while --
a servant is bringing in wax refreshments which
look quite good enough to eat and drink. This .-
scene will give us an excellent idea of life in the
studio of a French artist. There are all kinds of
scenes represented here, and some, especially in
the basement, are of a gloomy and somber kind.
One of these represents a body of policemen
bursting into a room occupied by band of coun-
terfeiters engaged in making false money. The
dismay of the counterfeiters, disturbed in their -
work, and the desperate fight that has already --
begun, are verystartling and real, and we almost
feel that we ought to move out of the way. -- =--
The roadway of the boulevards is filled with _: ---_ -. _
vehicles of every kind, and among these we fl. -.- -
particularly notice the great omnibuses, much i 4'.. 'i' -
larger than any we have, and each drawn by .. 'j 11'
three powerful horses, generally white. These -.-i t 'J ili,
omnibuses have seats on top as well as inside, -----
and a very good way to see the city is to take a ---
ride upon one of those upper seats. The omni- -- ---
buses are almost always well filled, but never THE PLACE DE LA BASTILLE. (SEE NEXT PAGE.)
crowded, no one being taken on after every seat is and those who are left behind have the best chance
occupied, and a fixed number are standing on the at the next omnibus.
outside platform. They stop at regular stations, In other parts of the city of Paris, there q4e street


railways, called here tramways, which are man-
aged very much in the same manner as the omni-
buses. These vehicles are convenient and cheap,
but not very agreeable, and it is much pleasanter
to walk and pay nothing, or to take a voiture and
pay thirty cents for two people for a drive from one
end of the city to another.
And thus we go on along the boulevards, pass-
ing the celebrated gateways, Porte St. Martin and
Porte St. Denis, until we come to the great open
space once occupied by the Bastille, in which now

pleasure-ground, we shall reach the point from
which we started on our tour.
We shall take many other walks and drives
through the streets of Paris, and wherever we go,
we shall find in each an interest of a different
sort. On the southern side of the river, is the
Latin Quarter, where there are some celebrated
schools and academies, which, for centuries, have
been the resort of students. Here we shall
find narrow streets, crowded footways, and shops
full of all sorts of antiquarian articles, and odds


rises a tall, sculptured column surmounted by a
figure of Liberty. Those who have studied and
remembered modern French history will take a
great interest in this spot, where so many impor-
tant events occurred.
Here end the boulevards. We now turn toward
the river, and soon reach a wide street called the
Rue de Rivoli, one side of which is lined with shops
under arcades, which, in some respects, are more
attractive than any we have yet seen. At many
of these, photographs are sold; and their windows
are crowded with pictures. All sorts of useful and
cheap things are to be found here, and a walk
through this street is like a visit to a museum. On
the other side of the street is the great Palace of
the Louvre, which extends for some distance, and
after that, we come to the Garden of the Tuileries.
When we have walked through this magnificent

and ends of every kind, some of which seem to
have no other value than that they are old, while
other things are very valuable, and often very
Here, too, we find book shops, and shops where
prints and engravings are sold, and all with their
windows and even their outside walls crowded
with the best things they have to offer. Along the
river front are rows of stalls covered with second-
hand books at very low prices, and those of us who
are collectors of old coins can find them here by
the peck or bushel. In this quarter, also, are
some immense dry-goods and variety stores, which
are worth going to see. One of them is so large,
and there is so much to see in it, that, at three
o'clock every day, a guide who can speak English
sets out to conduct visitors through the establish-
ment and to explain its various details.




In nearly every quarter of Paris, on either side visits even to give one look at every painting and
of the river, we shall find shops, shops, shops; statue in the Louvre; but if we have not much
people, people, people; life, activity, and bustle time to spare, it is possible to see the best things
of every sort. Splendid buildings meet our eyes at without walking ourselves to death through the


every turn,-churches, private residences, places
of business, and public edifices. In the western
portion of the city, near the Arc de Triomphe,
there are fewer shops, these streets being gener-
ally occupied by fine private residences. But there
is very little monotony in Paris ; no quarter is
entirely given up to any one thing. We can
not walk far in any direction without soon
coming upon some object of interest. The
parks, palaces, public monuments, gardens,
grand and beautiful churches, fountains of
various designs, great market-places, squares,
and buildings of historic interest or archi-
tectural beauty, are sometimes collected in
groups, but, as a rule, they are scattered all
over the city.
When we have satisfied ourselves with what
Paris itself is, although we have not seen any-
thing like the whole of it, we shall set about u
visiting some of its especial attractions. And
the first place we shall go to will be the great
palace of the Louvre. This palace, with its
courts and buildings, covers some twenty
acres. Here have lived kings, queens, and
princes; but now the palace has been made into
a museum for the people, and its grand halls
and galleries are filled with paintings, statuary,
and other works of art, ancient and modern, from
allparts of the world. It would take many, many
VOL. XIII.-37.

never-ending galleries. Some of the finest paint-
ings of Raphael, Da Vinci, Murillo, and other
great masters, are collected in one room, which
many, persons would think well worth coming
to Paris to see, if they saw nothing else. The


original statue of the noble Venus de Milo is in
the sculpture galleries; and in the Egyptian mu-
seum, which is so full that the history of Egypt
may be studied here almost as well as in that land
itself, we shall see a large stone sphinx which once

belonged to that king of Egypt from whom the chil- some large baths adjoining this palace, built about
dren of Israel fled, and the inscriptions on it show the end of the third century, when the Romans had
that it must have been a pretty old sphinx even when possession of Gaul. They then had a palace on


ik i.~; o to ...... : .',

... ... -. .

".-r --< V i( -R
< ,a n ., .
yii ^2-.^,, l -r,.I "-,b 2 ",. }' ,,. i,. ,^j ;J,,, " -..t


Pharaoh had it. In another part of the museum are
three life-size figures in stone, which are portraits of
persons who lived before the great pyramids were
built, about 4000 years before the Christian era.
Altogether, the collections of the Louvre are
among the finest and most extensive in the world,
and they have a great advantage over the gal-
leries of the Vatican at Rome: In the Vati-
can some of the galleries are open on one day
and some on another, some requiring one kind
of order of admission, some another, and others
yet another, and these permits are sometimes
troublesome to obtain; -but the galleries of
the Louvre are free to all, rich or poor, who may
choose to walk into them on any day of the week
except Monday, which is always reserved for
cleaning, dusting, and putting things in order.
In the old palace of the Luxembourg, a very
much smaller building, there is another valuable
collection of paintings, but all by French artists;
and the Hotel de Cluny, not far away, is a small
palace of the Middle Ages, and is one of the
quaintest, queerest, pleasantest, and most home-
like palaces we are likely to meet with. It is now a
museum, containing over ten thousand interest-
ing objects, mostly relating to medieval times.
Here, among the other old-time things, we can
see the very carriages and sleighs in which the
great people of the seventeenth century used to
ride. Those of us who suppose that we have now
left the Romans for good must not fail to visit

this spot, and felt bound, as the ancient Romans
always did, to make themselves comfortable with
baths and everything of the kind. There are
other museums and art exhibitions in Paris, but
those we have seen are the most important; and
it is very pleasant to find that they are greatly


frequented by the poorer classes of the city, who
are just as orderly and well behaved while walk-
ing about these noble palaces as if they be-


[JUN ,



longed to the highest families of the land. In the
great garden of the Tuileries, in the courts and
gardens attached to the Louvre, the Luxembourg,
the Palais Royal, and in all the pleasure-grounds
of the city, we find the poor people enjoying them-

little babies with their funny caps toddle about on
the walks ; the boys and girls have their games in
the great open spaces around the fountains, and
while those who have a cent or two to spare can
hire little chairs and put them where they like,
there are always benches for those who have no
pennies to spend. The convenience of resting
one's self in the open air is one of the comforts
of Paris. In many places along the principal
streets, there are benches on the sidewalk, where
weary passers-by may rest shaded by the trees. In
one part of the city, chiefly inhabited by the poor
and the working people, a fine park has been laid
out entirely for their accommodation. In very
many ways the French government offers oppor-
tunities to the poor people to enjoy themselves,
and it is pleasant to see how neat, orderly, and
quiet these people are. It is very necessary that
they should be kept in good humor, for when the
lower classes of Paris become thoroughly dissatis-
fied, they are apt to rise in fierce rebellion, and
then down go kings, governments, and palaces.
On the southern side of the river rises a great
gilded dome which glistens in the sun, and may
be seen from all parts of Paris. This dome belongs
to the church attached to the Hotel des Invalides,
or hospital for invalid soldiers, and it covers the tomb
of Napoleon Bonaparte. This tomb, which is very
magnificent and imposing, is some distance below
the floor of the church, and we look down upon it over
a circular railing. There we see the handsome sar-



selves; and in some cases they seem to get more cophagus, made of a single block of granite weigh-
good out of these places than do the rich. The old ing sixty-seven tons, which contains the remains ofa
women sit knitting in the shade of the trees; the man who once conquered the greater part of Europe.




Paris is full of churches, some old and some
new, and many grand or beautiful, but no one of
them is so interesting as the famous cathedral of



i.i-- i,


Notre Dame, which stands on an island in the
Seine, called La Citi, or the Island of the City,
because here the original Paris was built. This
great church is not so attractive in appearance as
some that we have seen elsewhere, but it is con-
nected with so many events in the history of
France, that as we wander about under its vaulted
arches and through its pillared aisles, and as we
look upon the strange and sometimes startling
sculptures in the chapels, the curious wood carv-
ings about the choir, the immense circular window
of gorgeously stained glass in the transept, which
sends its brightness into the solemn duskiness of
the church, we shall do so with a degree of interest
increased by what we have read about this old and
famous building.

Another church which we shall wish to see is
Sainte-Chapelle, or Holy Chapel, built in 1245 by
King Louis IX., who was known as St. Louis. It
stands on the same island as
Notre Dame, and near the Palace
of Justice, a great pile of build-
ings containing the law courts.
This church or chapel is small,
but it is, perhaps, the most beau-
tiful of the kind in the world. The
walls of the upper story, in which
the royal court used to worship,
are almost entirely of exquisitely
colored glass. These walls are
formed of windows nearly fifty
feet high, and the light shining
through every side of this gor-
geous temple of stained glass
produces a remarkable and beau-
tiful effect.
The present Palace of Justice is
for the most part a modern build-
ing, but portions of the old edifice
Iof the same name which used to
Stand upon this spot still remain.
7- In one of these we shall visit the
S i, old Conciergerie, which is famous
S' as a French state prison. Here
we shall see the little room with a
i':' i brick floor, in which the beauti-
S. ful Marie Antoinette, the wife of
Louis XVI., was imprisoned for
two months before her execution.
Here is the very arm-chair in
S which she sat. Thus we bring to
mind the events of the great
French revolution, and can easily
recall the sorrowful things which
took place in the halls and rooms
of that gloomy Conciergerie.
Another celebrated Parisian
church is the Pantheon, an immense edifice.
This building was intended as a burial-place for
illustrious men of France.
We have all heard of the famous cemetery of
P&re-Lachaise. It lies within the city, and will be
interesting to us, not only because of its great size
and beauty, and because it contains the graves of
so many persons famous in art, science, literature,
and war, but because it is so different from any
graveyard to which we are accustomed. It has
more than twenty thousand monuments, and many
of these are like little houses standing side by
side as if they were dwellings on a street. Each
vault generally belongs to a family, and the little
buildings are almost always decorated with a
profusion of flowers and wreaths, and often with



pictures and hanging lamps. Here, as in other
French cemeteries, it is not uncommon to place a
framed photograph of a deceased person over his
There are small steamboats which run up and
down the Seine like omnibuses, and the charge to
passengers is about two cents apiece. These
little boats are called by the Parisians zmouces, or
flies, and as they are often very convenient for city
trips, we shall take one of them and go to the
Jardin des Plantes, a very extensive and famous
zoological and botanical garden. Here we may
ramble for hours, and see animals from all parts
of the world
in cages, and I
houses, and i% i
where they 'I
can enjoy the I
open air.
At theoth-
er end of the
city, outside I
the walls, is
the Jardin d' .
tion,thatcon- V. .
tains a great
number of
foreign animals and fI .:i n
many of which h iat been nai- '
uralized so as to ft cl it .: L I
in the climate of rani:i. i- I
one house here, we ma iee i.l -i -
kinds of silk-worms, *. thi _. _
plants they feed u p.. n r.:.. I r -
nearby. In another piarr-,f ti ll
grounds we shall rind rarln.-d
zebras and ostric 11. h ii iin d
to little carriages. n i. tc i:h 11i-
dren may take a rnde: ,i::1 ei
shall see some -er\y .- .il _i-
phants andcame;. :.. .:h .
maymount and r a -in ,-1 -
how people trav,- !n I, E ii F-i.
We shall here perhaps. *:aiI. ,
mind the account .:ri tl-i p!,i.-:
which was published in SI. -!
NICHOLAS more than ten years ,'e
ago,--in June, 1874.
The Bois de Boulogne, ad- THE TOMB OF NAPO
joining this garden, is a very
large park, where we can see the fashionable peo-
ple of Paris in their carriages on fine afternoons.
There are certain goods sold in Paris known
under the name of "articles de Paris." These
consist of all sorts of pretty things, generally very

tasteful but not very expensive, among which are
jewelry and trinkets of many kinds, and a great
variety of useful and ornamental little objects
made in the most attractive fashion. These goods,
of course, can be bought in other cities, but Paris
has made a specialty of their manufacture, and
many shops are entirely given up to their sale.
A great number of such shops is to be found in
the Paiais Royal. This is a vast palace built for
Cardinal Richelieu, in 1625, and is in the form of a
hollow square, surrounding the garden of the
Palais Royal. Around the four sides of the palace,
under long colonnades and facing the garden, are

, '> - &" "' ..


rows of shops, their windows filled with all sorts
of sparkling and beautiful things in gold, silver,
precious stones, bronze, brass, and every other
material that pretty things can be made of. By
night or by day the colonnades of the Palais Royal


are very attractive places, and as all visitors go to
them, so do we. Even if we do not buy anything,
we shall be interested in the endless display in the
Another place we shall wish to visit is the
famous manufactory of Gobelin tapestry. In this
factory, which belongs to the Government, are
produced large and beautiful woven pictures, and
the great merit of the work is that it is done
entirely by hand, no machinery being used. The
operation is very slow, each workman putting one
thread at a time in its place, and faithfully copying
a painting in oil or water-colors, which stands near
him, as a model. If, in a day, he covers a space
as large as his hand, he considers that he has done
a very good day's work. These tapestries, which
are generally very large and expensive, are used
as wall-hangings in palaces and public build-
ings. It will be an especial delight, I think, to the
girls in our company to watch this beautiful work
slowly growing under the fingers of the skillful
Outside of Paris, but not far away, there are
some famous places which we must see. First
among these are the palace and grounds of Ver-
sailles, a magnificent palace, built by Louis XIV.
for a summer residence. This gentleman, who
liked to be called Le Grand Monarque had so
high an idea of the sort of country place he wanted,
that he spent upon this palace and its grounds the
sum of two hundred millions of dollars.* The
whole place is now open to the public, and the grand
and magnificent apartments and halls, some of
them nearly four hundred feet long, are filled with
paintings and statuary, so that the palace is now
a great art gallery. The park is splendidly laid
out, having in it a wide canal nearly a mile long.
The fountains here are considered the finest in the
world, and when they play, which is not very
often, thousands upon thousands of people come
out from Paris to see them. In the grounds are
two small palaces, once inhabited by French
queens; and one of these, called the little Trianon,
was the beautiful home of Marie Antoinette, whose
last home on earth was the brick-paved room of
the Conciergerie. The private garden attached to
this little palace, which is more like a park than a
garden, possesses much rural beauty.
Here, on the margin of a lake, we may see the
little thatched cottages which Marie Antoinette
had built, that she and the ladies of her court

might play at being milkmaids. These cottages
stand just as they did when those noble ladies
dressed themselves up like peasant girls, and
milked cows, which, I have no doubt, were very
gentle animals, while the royal milkmaids proba-
bly tried to make themselves believe that they
could have the happiness of real milkmaids as
well as that which belonged to their own lives
of luxury and state.
At Fontainebleau is another royal palace, to
which is attached a magnificent forest of forty-two
thousand acres. The kings of France did not like
to feel cramped in their houses or grounds, and in
this beautiful forest, which measures fifty miles
around, there are twelve thousand four hundred
miles of roads and foot-paths. On the borders of
this forest is the village of Barbizon, where lived
the artist, Millet, of whom you'have read in ST.
Not far from Paris is the old palace of St. Ger-
main, in which many kings have been born, lived,
and died, and to which there is a forest of nine
thousand acres attached. There is also St. Cloud,
with a ruined palace and a lovely park, with
statues, fountains, and charming walks; and, near
by, the village of Sevres, where the famous porce-
lain of that name is made. Also within easy dis-
tance of the city, is the old cathedral of St. Denis,
where, for over a thousand years, the kings of
France were buried. Here, in a crypt or burial-
place under the church, we may look through a
little barred window into a gloomy vault, and see,
standing quite near us, the metal coffin which con-
tains the bones of Marie Antoinette, whose palaces,
pleasure-grounds, prison-house, and place of execu-
tion we have already seen.
The history of France shows us that Paris has
been as rich in historical events as it is now in
bright, attractive shops; but, as a rule, it is much
more pleasant to see the latter than to remember
the former. In our walks through Paris, we will
not think too much of the dreadful riots and com-
bats that have taken place in her streets, the blood
that has been shed even in her churches, and the
executions and murders that have been witnessed
in her beautiful open squares. Instead of this, we
will give ourselves up to the enjoyment of the
Queen of Cities, as she now is, thinking only of
the unrivaled pleasures she offers to visitors, and
of the kindness and politeness which we almost
always meet with from her citizens.

* A sketch of the boyhood of this spendthrift monarch was given in the series of" Historic Boys," under the title of" Louis of Bourbon:
the Boy King," in ST. NICHOLAS for October, 1884.





@here care -roses thLt grow'
j I on a, vine on a. vine,
@ here cre roses -caqt Qro x/
o1 a, tree.;
~t4A YLl Ilttfe -o,5e
rro vs on teyr i;.re toes,
A6rncf .3he iS the rose for ne.
5 Come- ou in jfe dr e r.,
..05J Pos0Y
Come ViSLt Your cousins,
chiafc, ~V/t k e.
If ou cie M1J ranctcIc&fcT,
It stcknds to recsoa.-
Alfad -r.ncrp ap q XRos e ts.h

01! fair is tiS rose
on the vine, on tIFe vine,
Ancf fair is {jie rose
on tle -stcdk;
5ut tF er'(es onfj aierose
Nx/ko ftct ten fit~fe Loe,5,
kCncr It's that rose
f'1f tcdse for ca w'cak.
Come put on. ur cc X$
&osl Posl I
0 orz .jo r CdL fX
I cii come -;J/I me;
For if iou ore mj grancAr6,
it stands to reason
i it QGrctncfpcp &osejtusfh
I must -,




BEFORE Beman's Beach had become the pop-
ular summer resort which all tourists know to-
day, there lived, a little back from the rocky coast
which stretches away from it toward the south-
west, a farmer named Elder. He had a large
family, which consisted mostly of girls; but there
were two boys, who were twins.
The boys were called Moke and Poke. These
were not their baptismal names, of course. Moke
Elder had been christened Moses, and Poke Elder
had received at the same time the respectable ap-
pellation of Porter-both after their uncle, Mr.
Moses Porter, who lived in the family. But they
were so seldom called by those names that most
people seemed to have forgotten them. Moke was
S Moke, and Poke was Poke, the world over.
That is to say, their world, which would not
have required a tape measure quite twenty-five
thousand miles long to go around it. Frog-End "
was the nickname of the part of the town where
they lived,-probably on account of a great marsh
which was very noisy in spring,--and they were
little known beyond its borders.
But everybody about Frog-End and along the
coast knew Moke and Poke. That is to say, they
were known as twins, if not as individual, separate
boys. They looked so much alike, both being
thin-faced and tow-headed, and dressed so much
alike, often wearing each other's clothes, that
he who, meeting one alone, could always say
"Moke," or "Poke," as the case might be,-
and feel sure he was n't calling Moke Poke or
Poke Moke,"-must have known them very well
Of course, only a born Frog-Ender could do
that. I am not a Frog-Ender myself, and the only
way I could ever tell them apart was by looking
closely at their moles.
They had two moles between them, exactly
alike, except that Moke wore his on the right
cheek, quite close to the right nostril, while Poke
hung out his sign on the left cheek, at about an
equal distance from the left nostril; as if Nature
had had just a pair of moles to throw in with their
other personal attractions, and had divided her
gift in this impartial way.

Even after people had learned these distinguish-
ing marks, however, they could not always remem-
ber, at a moment, which had the right mole and
which the left; but they would often say Poke"
to the right mole and Moke" to the left mole, in
a manner that appeared very ridiculous to the
boys' seven sisters, who could n't see that they
resembled each other at all.
The twins were nearly always together, whether
at work or at play; when one was sent on an
errand, as a rule both would go, if it was only to
get a pound of board-nails or a spool of thread at
the village store. They were about the age of their
neighbors and playmates, Oliver Burdeen (com-
monly called Olly), who, when he was at home,
lived two farms away from them, and Percival
Bucklin (familiarly known as Perce), who lived
still nearer, on the other side.
These four boys are the three heroes of our story,
-counting the twins as one,-and they come into
it on a certain afternoon late in August, just after
a great storm had swept over the New England
Uncle Moses Porter-uncle of the twins on the
mother's side, an odd and very shabby old bach-
elor-comes into it at the same time, but does n't
get in very far. It would be hard to make a
hero of him. At about four o'clock that day he
stood in Mr. Elder's backyard, barefooted and
without his hat, watching the clouds and the
wooden fish on the barn, and making up his mind
about the weather. That was a subject to which
he had given the study of a lifetime. He could
tell you as many "signs" as there are letters in
the alphabet, and spell out to-morrow's weather
very exactly with them; that is to say, what it should
be, not always what it actually was-Nature some-
times neglecting in the strangest way her own plain
rules. A great deal was said about Uncle Moses's
occasional lucky hits, and very little about his
frequent misses; and he enjoyed a world-wide rep-
utation (the Frog-End world, again) as a weather-
prophet, until "Old Probabilities" at Washington
took the wind out of his predictions, and drove
him, so to speak, out of the business.
But at the time of which I write he was at the
pinnacle of his fame, and nobody ventured to doubt
his prognostications. If the weather did n't turn
out as he predicted, why, so much the worse for
the weather!


[A Story of the Mlaine Coast.]


[Je. .



Wind has whipped 'round the right way this
time, boys !" he remarked, after long and careful
observation. It 's got square into the west, and
I predict it 's a-go'n' to stay there, and give us fair
weather, nex' four-'n'-twenty hours. The 's no
rain in yon clouds; it 's all been squeezed out, or
else I never saw a flyin' scud afore "
He paused as if to relax his mind after the
severe strain of this prophecy, and smiled as he
came toward the woodshed,-where the twins were
"An' I tell ye what, boys! A heap o' that
kelp the storm 's hove up, are a-go'n' to land, this
tide an' tomorrer morning's, an' you 'd better be on
hand to git our share on 't."

iI "



MR. BUCKLIN, another Frog-End farmer, had
a similar right, and he and his son Percival were
that same afternoon talking about the expected
harvest of kelp. Mr. Bucklin was saying that there
was nothing to be gained by starting for the beach
till the next morning, and that even then he could
n't go, as being one of the town's selectmen he
would have some public business to attend to,---and
Percival, a bright, strong, enterprising boy of six-
teen, was insisting that their team ought to be on
the shore by daylight, and that he would be there

''3 : .


Of all the farm-work the twins ever tried, they
found going for sea-weed the most delightful.
There was a relish of adventure in it; and it took
them to the beach, which was always a pleasant
change for boys brought up on Frog-End rocks.
The kelp was usually hauled up from the shore
and left to rot in heaps; after which, it became
excellent dressing for the land.
There was no good beach very near Mr. Elder's
farm, but he had a right on Beman's Beach, two
or three miles down the coast.

with it if he could get anybody to go with him,
when the Elder twins came crossing fields and
leaping fences, and finally tumbled over the bars
into the yard where father and son were talking.
"Uncle Mose says- began Moke.
"Wind 's just right for the kelp," struck in
"There '11 be stacks of it," Moke exclaimed.
"And we're going !" Poke continued.
That was the way they usually did an errand or
told a story,-one giving one fragment of a sen-



tence, and his brother the next, if, indeed, they
did n't both speak together.
They ended with a proposition. Their father
had gone to Portland with the team; and if Mr.
Bucklin would let Perce take his tip-cart and yoke
of steers, they would go with him, and all the sea-
weed gathered by the three should be shared
equally by the two farmers.
And what we want is--" said Moke.
To start after an early supper this evening,"
said Poke.
Camp to-night at the beach," Moke added.
"And be on hand to begin work--" Poke
added, contributing his link to the conversational
As soon as the tide turns in the morning,"
rattled both together.
Mr. Bucklin smiled indulgently.
I think your uncle is right," he said. "And
1 'm willing Perce should go. Though I don't
know about your starting to-night to camp out."
Oh, yes! exclaimed Percival, as eager for the
adventure as if he had been a third twin and
shared the enthusiasm of his two other selves.
" That will be all the fun "
"We '11 take some green corn- said Moke.
"And new potatoes- said Poke.
And a sickle to cut grass- Moke ran on.
"And make a fire of driftwood- Poke out-
stripped him.
For the steers," said Moke, finishing his own
sentence, and not Poke's.
To roast 'em," concluded Poke, referring to
the potatoes and green corn, and not to the steers.
It '11 be just grand Percival exclaimed.
May we, father ? The tide will turn about day-
light; we '11 have our breakfast on the beach, and
be ready to go to work; and we '11 haul two big
heaps on the shore, one for us and one for
them, and leave 'em till they 're ready to draw
away and spread on the land. May we, father? "
You 're not so sure the kelp '11 land," said the
cautiousfarmer. "It's notional aboutitsometimes."
But if the wind keeps off shore it will said
Moke and Poke, two voices for a single thought.
The wind may chip around again, and the
kelp all disappear as clean as if the beach had
been swept. But I don't care," added the farmer
indulgently. If you boys want to take the
chance, I '11 let Perce have the steers. You might
gather some driftwood, anyhow. The storm must
have driven a good lot of that high up, out of the
reach of the common tides."
His easy consent made the boys as happy as if
they had been going to a circus; and they im-
mediately began to make preparations for the trip.
Moke and Poke ran home for their suppers, and

came running back in an incredibly short time,
bringing a basket of provisions, with ears of un-
husked corn and bottles of spruce-beer sticking
out, a blanket for their bed on the beach, and
each a three-tined pitchfork for handling the kelp.
These were put into the cart, along with articles
furnished by Percival, and a quantity of hay which
Mr. Bucklin said they would find comfortable to
sleep on that night, even if it did n't come handy
to feed the oxen.
The yoked steers were then made fast to the
cart, and they set off.



NEVER king in his coach enjoyed a more exhil-
arating ride than our three youngsters in the old
tip-cart, drawn by the slow cattle along the rough
country road. The source of happiness is in our
own hearts; and it is wonderful how little it takes
to make it run over, in a healthy boy.
A board placed across the cart-box served as
a seat; and when one of them tired of riding on
that, he would tumble in the hay. Perce wielded
the ox-gad at first; but soon the twins wished
to drive. Both reached for the whip at once.
Wait a minute! you can't both have it!" cried
Perce. "The oldest first "
I'm the oldest," declared Moke.
So I 've heard you say," Perce replied. "But
I don't see how anybody ever remembered."
"They looked out for that when they named
us," said Moke.
It was uncle Moses's idea," said Poke. He
told 'em, 'Call the oldest by my first name and
the youngest by my last name -' "
'And that will fix it in folks's minds,'" Moke
completed the quotation.
That was before they discovered the moles,"
said both together.
"I never thought of that," said Perce. "But
whenever anybody asks me which is the oldest, I
think of your initials, and run over in my mind-
L, M, N, O, P; -M comes before P; then I
say, 'Moke 's the oldest.' But how could they tell
you apart before they saw the moles ?"
They tied a red string around Moke's ankle,"
said Poke.
But once the string came off, and Ma thinks it
might have been changed," said Moke.
"And to this day she can't say positively but
I am Moke, and Moke is me," said Poke.
Perce laughed. "Why did n't you have some-
thing besides a couple of teenty-taunty moles to
distinguish you? he asked. "Why did n't one




of you be light-complexioned and the other dark ?
There 'd have been some sense in that."
We could n't! said Poke.
"You did n't try," replied Perce.
"We could n't if we had tried," said Moke.
"Twins are always- "
"The same complexion," struck in Poke. "Just
like one person."
No, they're not; there 's no rule about that,"
said Perce. "And when you talk of one person-
have you heard of the man over in Kennebunk ?"
"What about him? asked the twins.
"Why, have n't you heard ? One half his face,"
said Perce, "as if you should draw a line straight
down his forehead and nose to the bottom of his
chin," he drew his finger down his own face, by way
of illustration; "one half--it 's the right half, I
believe--is as black as a negro's. Yes; I'm sure
it's the right half."
"Pshaw !" said Moke.
"Oh, Jiminy said Poke.
"I don't believe it! said both together.
"It's true, I tell you! Perce insisted. "My
father has seen him; and my father would n't lie."
He must have had some disease," said Moke.
He 's what they call a leopard," said Poke.
"You mean a leper ?" laughed Perce. "No;
he is n't a leper, nor an albino. Why, boys! did n't
you ever hear of such a case ? It's quite common,
and it's easily explained."
I give it up How do you explain it?" said
the twins.
Simply enough!" exclaimed Perce. "The
other side of his face is black too." And he keeled
over backward on the hay.
It was an old joke which he had indeed heard
his father tell; but it was new to the twins, who
were completely taken in by it.
"Throw him out of the cart! shrieked Poke,
half smothered with laughter, at the same time
seizing hold of Perce as if to execute his own order.
I'll jolt him out! cried Moke, who was driv-
ing; and he began to urge the oxen into a heavy,
clumsy trot, which shook up the cart and its con-
tents in a way that was more lively than pleasant.
"Oh, don't do that !" cried Perce, with the
jolts in his voice. "You '11 break the e-g-g-s in
my ba-ask-et "
I 've had one supper, but I shall want another
by the time we get to the beach," said Poke.
So shall I!" cried Perce. We '11 make a
big fire on the shore, and have a jolly time. And,
I say, boys, let 's call for Oily Burdeen, and make
him come down on the beach with us to-night."
That will be fun, if he is n't too proud to go
with country people now," replied Moke.
"Since he 's been waiting on city folks, he 's

as stuck up as if he 'd tumbled into a cask of
molasses," said Poke.
Oily is all right," said Perce. He does n't
put on any airs with me. We '1l have him with
us, anyhow! "


THERE was but one boarding-house at Beman's
Beach in those days. Originally a farm-house, it
stood in not the very best situation, a little distance
back from the sea, in a hollow of the hills. It was
kept by a farmer's widow, Mrs. Murcher, who, as
her business expanded, had built on additions
until her house looked as if it had the mumps in
one enormously swollen cheek.
While his Frog-End mates were driving thither-
ward in the tip-cart, and talking about him, Master
Oily Burdeen, the third hero in our story (count-
ing the twins as one), was standing before a bureau
in Mrs. Murcher's best corner room, and smiling
graciously at his image in the oval-shaped looking-
He held a hair-brush in his right hand and a
comb in his left, and after giving his sleek locks
an artistic touch or two, he would tip the mirror a
trifle and recede a step, to get a still more pleasing
view of his personal perfections.
It was not his own room, there in the new part
-the swollen cheek, as it were -of the summer
boarding-house. Nor can I have the satisfaction of
declaring that it was his own brush and comb with
which he was making so free, nor his own cologne
that had imparted to his naturally rough, rusty
hair its extraordinary fragrance and smoothness.
But the broadly smiling mouth, snub nose, and
freckles were possessions nobody would have
thought of disputing with Master Oily; and the
tolerably well-fitting, genteel, grayish-brown suit
he had on had belonged to him about eight hours.
Oily Burdeen was not, in fact, one of Mrs.
Murcher's boarders. He was only a boy-of-all-
work employed by her for the season. The room
belonged to Mr. Hatville, who had gone yacht-
ing that afternoon; and Olly had taken temporary
possession to admire himself in his new clothes
before the convenient glass.
For new they were to him, although they had
been rather well worn that summer by the friendly
young boarder, who, on departing in the morning,
had made Oily a present of them in return for the
errands Oily had done for him.
This was the first opportunity to try them on
that the proud recipient had found. He had never
in his life worn anything so stylish, and we can
smile tolerantly at the innocent vanity with which


he surveyed himself in Mr. Hatville's mirror. His
liberal use of Mr. Hatville's hair-brush and cologne-
bottle was not, perhaps, so excusable. And when
with fearful joy he took from its embroidered case
by the mirror the tempting gold watch which Mr.
Hatville had, either by accident or design, left
hanging there, on changing his clothes that after-
noon to go yachting,- when, Isay, Master Burdeen


-1i -'


lifted out that valuable time-piece by its dang-
ling chain, and placed it in the watch-pocket of his
new waistcoat, it must be owned that he was
carrying his ideas of hospitality too far.
It only needed a watch to set it off," he said;
"and here it is!"
In his button-hole he hooked the gold guard,
letting the heavy seal hang, and the chain fall in
a graceful curve on his vest. Then he drew out
the watch and opened it with a pressure of the
spring (it was a hunter's case), and looked at the
time; shutting it again with a delightful snap, and
replacing it in his pocket, as he strutted the while
with amiable satisfaction before the tilted glass.
I'll have just such a watch of my own some day,"
he said to himself, proudly, "and just such a gold
chain, with a seal as big as that! See if I don't!"
With a sigh he started to put it back in the
embroidered case where he had found it. But that
required too great an effort of self-denial.

"I 'd like to wear it a few minutes; where '11 be
the harm ?" he thought. "Of course, I wont let
any accident happen to it."
He looked at the time again; it was half-past
six. The two or three men boarders who remained
with Mrs. Murcher (for it was now late in the
season) had gone yachting, and the ladies were
at tea. It was an hour of leisure with Oily, and
having put on his new rig, he thought it would be
pleasant to take a stroll on the beach, a sort of
rehearsal of his r6le of walking gentleman,"before
going that evening to show himself to the admir-
ing natives at Frog-End. He could n't resist the
temptation to carry the watch, on this preliminary
excursion; buttoning the guard and seal under
the top buttons of his coat, so that they should n't
be observed as he left the house.
I only wish she could see me he whispered
blushingly to himself, as he went down the
"She" was Miss Amy Canfield, the youngest
of the lady boarders, and in his eyes the prettiest.
She had been kind to Olly, as, indeed, the most
of the boarders had been; and it put him into
a warm glow, from his cheeks to his shins, as be
thought of meeting her surprised gaze.
But Amy was at tea with the rest, and as obliv-
ious of him at that moment as if he had never
existed. So he passed out of the house unnoticed,
and went to enjoy his little strut alone; unbui-
toning his coat again, and glancing down at the
superb chain and seal, as he took the sandy patio
to the beach.
If I see the Susette," he said,-for that was
the name of the yacht,-'" I '11 hurry back, and
have the watch in its place again long before Mr.
Hatville lands."
This he fully intended to do. But neither from
the intervening sand-hills, nor from the shore itself,
which he reached after a short walk from the
boarding-house, was the yacht anywhere to be
The sea had gone down rapidly since the recent
gale. It rolled on the beach, in breakers made
dark and turbid by the sea-weed which, uptorn by
the storm and mixed with sand, still tumbled and
washed to and fro in the waves.
"Wind 's got around square in the west," ob-
served Olly. "The yacht '11 have a mean time
beating up!"
The sky was partly covered by heavy masses of
broken clouds, in an opening of which the sun was
just setting over dark growths of pine and spruce
that rose behind the dunes, a little back from the
beach. As it went down, the shadows of the woods
stretched out, like wings, over the dunes and the
smooth, glistening slope of beach sand, just washed


by the receding tide. Then the sunset light on
the white crests of the breakers was quenched,
and the whole sea was in gloom. For a moment
only, for now the flying clouds caught a flush
which spread swiftly over the sky, until the entire
heavens, almost down to the sea rim, appeared
one burning flame. The sea itself had a strange,
wild beauty, the dark and sullen waters but half
consenting to reflect the glow of the clouds on
their heaving waves.



JUST the time to take a little row," thought
Olly Burdeen, as he strolled about, looking some-
times admiringly at his new clothes and the gay
watch-guard, and sometimes casting wistful glances
at the sea.
He knew the thrilling pleasure of crossing and
recrossing the breakers in a good boat, and rocking
on the swells outside.
"' believe I 'll try it once," he said. Maybe
J can see the yacht around the point."
The point was a rocky arm of the shore which
shut off the ocean view on the north-east, the
direction from which the Susette was expected.
iBt the little harbor it would have to enter was a
deep cove in the broken coast at the other end of
the beach, a quarter of a mile away.
"' It can't possibly come in without my seeing it
in season," thought Olly, with a glance at the
watch, which he took from his pocket and opened
and shut again with a sort of guilty joy, for the
twentieth time.
There were a couple of dories drawn up above
high-water mark; and he knew where a pair of old
battered oars were hidden under a row of bathing-
houses close by. He drew them out and threw
them on the sand. Then he looked at the sea-
weed in his way,-little windows of it littering
the beach, and dark masses rolling in the surf.
The tide had been going out about three hours.
I can get through that easily enough," he said.
He dragged the lightest of the dories down to
the water's edge, and put in the oars. He knew
just how it should be launched, and understood
the necessity of sending it straight across the
breakers, and of never, by any chance, letting
them strike it sidewise.
Placing himself at the upper end, he waited for
a good wave, and pushed the boat into it,- running
with it until his feet were almost in the water, then
holding it firmly until another wave lifted it. Just
as that was subsiding, he gave the dory another
push, leaped in at the same time, caught up the

oars, and had them in the rowlocks and in the
water just as the third wave came.
So far, so good. He had done the same thing
many times before, and had never met with an
accident. Two or three sturdy strokes, and he
would have been safe outside the rollers. But at
a critical moment he paused to look at a few spat-
ters of water on his new clothes; and on the
instant one of his oars caught in a whirling tangle
of kelp.
The boat was going out swiftly in one direction;
the billow that bore the kelp was rushing in
with tremendous force in the other. No one
knows the power of a wave, who has not felt it at
some such crisis. What happened was over so
quickly that Oily himself could not have explained
it. A brief struggle, a terrible wrench, a buffet in
the breast and face from the end of an oar,- and
he was lying on his back in the dory with his heels
above the thwarts.
For a few seconds he lay there, half stunned by
the blow and the fall. His breath seemed to have
been quite knocked out of his body. It did not take
him long to recover it, however, and to reverse the
positions of his head and his heels. When he did
so, he found the boat swinging around broadside
to the breakers, with one threatening at that very
moment to overwhelm it.
Instinctively he seized an oar and pulled with
all his might to head the dory to the wave. He
succeeded, and sent it careening safely over it and
the next great swell, and so out to sea.
But it was at the expense of the oar. It was an
old one, much worn by the friction of the rowlocks,
and his last stroke broke it short off at the weak
point. The paddle-end fell overboard, and only
the handle remained in his hand.
He then turned to look for the other oar, and
found that he had lost it at the time of his tumble.
He could see it going over on a breaker, several
rods behind him. For now the wind took the
dory, and was wafting it away almost as rapidly as
if it carried a sail.
He tried paddling with the stub that remained
in his hand, but made so little headway with it
that he began to be seriously alarmed. He had,
been sufficiently startled by his accident and the
danger of an overturn in the rollers; but he now
saw himself in face of an unforeseen peril.
He at first thought he would jump overboard
and swim to the beach; but even then he remem-
bered his clothes, which a wetting might ruin-to
say nothing of Mr. Hatville's watch.
There was, besides, another danger. The kelp !
He was a good swimmer; but could he ever make
his way through breakers in which such fields
of sea-weed tossed and rolled?


The night was shutting down with gathering
clouds. The wind struck the skiff with a force he
had not felt under the lee of the woods. Not a
human being was in sight, nor a boat- only two
or three distant sails on the horizon.
"Oh, the yacht! Where is the yacht?" he
cried aloud, gazing eagerly around the point of
rocks, the view beyond which was rapidly opening
as he drifted out to sea.
A little while before, he would have been sorry
enough to have had the Susette come in before
he had time to land and run back to the boarding-
house with the borrowed watch; but now he wished
for nothing so devoutly as that it might come along
and pick him up -so much worse things might


happen than the discovery of the time-piece in his
But no yacht hove in sight. The glory had
faded out of the sky. The sea darkened; the
wind increased. He shouted for help, though with
little hope of making himself heard.
There were only women at the boarding-house,
and even if his voice reached them, it must have
sounded so faint and far away as to attract no
especial attention. But the upper windows were
visible over the sand-hills. Perhaps somebody, per-
haps Amy Canfield herself, was gazing from them.
In that hope he swung his hat with frantic ges-
tures of distress, still screaming for help, as he
drifted away on the darkening waters.

(To be continued.)

[An Historical Biography.]




IT was on the i5th day of June, 1775, that
George Washington was chosen Commander-in-
Chief of the American army. The next day he
made his answer to Congress, in which he declared
that he accepted the office, but that he would take
no pay; he would keep an exact account of his
expenses, but he would give his services to his
country. There was no time to be lost. He could
not go home to bid his wife good-by, and he did
not know when he should see her again, so he
wrote her as follows :
"PHILADELPHIA, iSth June, 1775.
"I am now set down to write to you on a subject which
fills me with inexpressible concern, and this concern is greatly
aggravated and increased when I reflect upon the uneasiness I
know it will give you. It has been determined in Congress that the
whole army raised for the defence of the American cause shall be
put under my care, and that it is necessary for me to proceed im-
mediately to Boston to take upon me the command of it.
"You maybelieve me, my dear Patsy, when I assure you in the most
solemn manner, that, so far from seeking this appointment, I have used
every endeavor in my power to avoid it, not only from my unwilling-
ness to part with you and the family, but from a consciousness of it
being a trust too great for my capacity, and that I should enjoy
more real happiness in one month with you at home than I have the
most distant prospect of finding abroad, if my stay were to be
seven times seven years. But as it has been a kind of destiny that
has thrown me upon this service, I shall hope that my undertaking
it is designed to answer some good purpose. You might, and I
suppose did perceive, from the tenor of my letters, that 1 was appre-
hensive I could not avoid this appointment, as I did not pretend to
intimate when I should return. That was the case. It was utterly

out of my power to refuse this appointment, without exposing n- -
character to such censures as would have reflected dishonor upr
myself and given pain to my friends."

That is to say, he could not refuse the appoint-
ment without laying himself open to the charge
of being a coward and afraid to run the risk, or a
selfish man who preferred his own ease and com-
fort. He was neither. He was a courageous man,
as he had always shown himself to be, and he was
unselfish, for he was giving up home and property,
and undertaking a life of the greatest difficulty in
the service of-what? His country ? Yes. But ve
must remember that Virginia was his country more
than all the colonies were, and at present it was
only Massachusetts that stood in peril. Of course
every one is impelled to do great things by more
than one motive. Washington was a soldier, and
his blood tingled as he thought of being Com-
mander-in-Chief, and doing the most that a soldier
could; but he was, above all, a man who had a
keen sense of right and wrong. He sawthat Eng-
land was wrong and was doing injustice to Amer-
ica. The injustice did not at once touch him as a
planter, as a man who was making money; ic
touched him as a free man who was obedient to
the laws; and he was ready to give up everything
to help right the wrongs.
Washington left Philadelphia on his way to Bos-
ton, June 21, escorted by a troop of horsemen,
and accompanied by Schuyler and Lee, who had
just been made major-generals by Congress. They


had gone about twenty miles when they saw a man
on horseback coming rapidly down the road. It
was a messenger riding post-haste to Philadelphia,
and carrying to Congress news of the battle of
Bunker Hill. Everybody was stirred by the news
and wanted to know the particulars.
Why were the Provincials compelled to
retreat ?" he was asked.
"It was for want of ammunition," he replied.
"Did they stand the fire of the regular troops ? "
asked Washington anxiously.
"That they did, and held their own fire in
reserve until the enemy was within eight rods."
Then the liberties of the country are safe !"
exclaimed Washington. He remembered well the
scenes under Braddock, and he knew what a sight
it must have been to those New England farmers
when a compact body of uniformed soldiers came
marching up from the boats at Charlestown. If

Hill made him extremely anxious to reach the
In New England, the nearer he came to the seat
of war, the more excited and earnest he found the
people. At every town he was met by the citizens
and escorted through that place to the next. This
was done at New Haven. The collegians all turned
out, and they had a small band of music, at the
head of which, curiously enough, was a freshman
who afterward made some stir in the world. It was
Noah Webster, the man of spelling-book and dic-
tionary fame. At Springfield, the party was met
by a committee of the Provincial Congress of Mas-
sachusetts, and at last, on the 2d of July, he came
to Watertown, where he was welcomed by the
Provincial Congress itself, which was in session
It was about two o'clock in the afternoon of the
same day that Washington rode into Cambridge,

- "', ',' --- If, '-- ..- - -- _- -
,, ,-- ,- ,_,,

..- -z, ,



they could stand fearlessly, there was stuff in them
for soldiers.
All along the route the people in the towns
turned out to see Washington's cavalcade, and at
Newark a committee of the New York Provincial
Congress met to escort him to the city. There he
left General Schuyler in command, and hurried
forward to Cambridge, for the news of Bunker

escorted by a company of citizens. As he drew
near Cambridge Common, cannon were fired to
welcome him, and the people in Boston must have
wondered what had happened. The Provincial
Congress had set apart for his use the house of the
President of Harvard College, reserving only one
room for the President; but this house, which is
still standing, was probably too small and incon-


venient; for shortly afterward Washington was
established in the great square house, on the way
to Watertown, which had been deserted by a rich
Tory, and there he staid as long as he was in Cam-
bridge. By good fortune, years afterward, the
poet Longfellow bought the house, and so the two
names of Washington and Longfellow have made
it famous.
On the morning of the next day, which was
Monday, July 3, 1775, Washington, with Lee and
other officers, rode into camp. Cambridge Com-
mon was not the little place it now is, hemmed in
by streets. It stretched out toward the country,
and a country road ran by its side, leading to
Watertown. An Episcopal church stood opposite
the common, and a little farther on, just as the road
turned, nearly at a right angle, stood an old house.
In front of this house, at the corner of the road,
was a stout elm-tree. It was a warm summer
morning, and the officers were glad of the shade
of the tree.
On the left, and stretching behind, were the
tents of the American camp. The soldiers them-
selves were drawn up in the road and on the dry,
treeless common. Crowded about were men,
women, and children, for the news had spread that
the general had come, and the crowd and the sol-
diers were well intermingled. What did they
see ? They saw a group of men on horseback, in
military dress; but the foremost man, on whom
all eyes were bent, was a tall, splendid figure, erect
upon his horse; those nearest could see that he
had a rosy face, thick brown hair that was brushed
back from his face, and clear blue eyes set rather
far apart. By his side was a man who appeared
even taller, he was so thin and lank; he had a
huge nose, eyes that were looking in every direc-
tion, a mouth that seemed almost ready to laugh
at the people before him. He sat easily and care-
lessly on his horse. This was General Lee.
Now, the strong Virginian, easily marked by his
bearing and his striking dress,-for he wore a blue
coat with buff facings, buff small-clothes, an epau-
let on each shoulder, and a cockade in his hat,-
turned to General Ward, who had heretofore been
in command of the army, and laying his hand on
the hilt of his sword, drew it from the scabbard, and
raised it in the sight of the people. The cannon
roared, no doubt, and the people shouted. It was
a great occasion for them, and everybody was on
tiptoe of curiosity to see the Virginians. All this is
what we may suppose, for there is no account of
the exact ceremony. We only know that, at that
time, Washington took command of the army.
But what did Washington see, and what did he
think, now, and later, when he made a tour of
inspection through the camp and to the outposts?

He saw a motley assembly, in all sorts of uniforms
and without any uniform at all, with all sorts of
weapons and with precious little powder. So little
was there, that Washington was very anxious lest
the British should find out how little he had; and
so while he was urging Congress to provide sup-
plies, he had barrels of sand, with powder covering
the top, placed in the magazine, so that any spy
hanging about might be misled. Some of the
soldiers were in tents, some were quartered in
one or two college buildings then standing, and
some built huts for themselves. The most orderly
camp was that of the Rhode Island troops, under
General Nathaniel Greene.
The men were in companies of various sizes,
under captains and other officers who had very
little authority over the privates, for these usually
elected their own commanders. A visitor to the
camp relates a dialogue which he heard between
a captain and one of the privates under him.
"Bill," said the captain, "go and bring a pail
of water for the men."
"I shan't," said Bill. "It 's your turn now,
Captain; I got it last time."
But the men, though under very little discipline,
were good stuff out of which to make soldiers.
Most of them were in dead earnest, and they
brought, besides courage, great skill in the use of
the ordinary musket. A story is told of a company
of riflemen raised in one of the frontier counties of
Pennsylvania. So many volunteers applied as to
embarrass the leader who was enlisting the com-
pany, and he drew on a board with chalk the
figure of a nose of the common size, placed the
board at the distance of a hundred and fifty yards,
and then declared he would take only those who
could hit the mark. Over sixty succeeded. "Gen-
eral Gage, take care of your nose," says the news-
paper that tells the story. General Gage, as you
know, was the commander of the British forces in
Washington wrote to Congress, "I have a
sincere pleasure in observing that there are mate-
rials for a good army, a great number of able-
bodied men, active, zealous in the cause, and of
unquestionable courage."
His first business was to make an army out of
this material, and he shrewdly suggested that, inas-
much as there was great need of clothing, it would
be well to furnish ten thousand hunting-shirts at
once. Not only would these be the cheapest gar-
ments, but they would furnish a convenient and
characteristic uniform, which would destroy the
distinctions between the troops from different colo-
nies or towns. If the men looked alike, they would
act together better.
There is a story that Washington had a platform




built in the branches of the elm under .. I-h.:h
he had taken command of the army, andl ih it
there he sat with his glass, spying the !i...',. -
ments across the water in Boston. Wht-li i,
this be so or not, he was constantly sc:.ui! iii
the country himself, and sending his i:..ur
within the enemy's lines. The most cri.: il
time came at the end of the year 1775, whei
the term of the old soldiers' enlistment expired,
and the ranks were filling up with raw recruits.
"It is not in the pages of history, perhaps,"
writes Washington to the President of Congress,
on the 4th of January, to furnish a case like ours.
To maintain a post within musket-shot of the
enemy for six months together without- and
at the same time to disband one army and recruit
another, within that distance of twenty-odd Brit-
ish regiments, is more, probably, than ever was
VOL. XIII.-38.

attempted. But if we succeed as well in the last
as we have heretofore in the first, I shall think it
the most fortunate event of my whole life."
The blank purposely left in this letter, in case it
should fall into the hands of the enemy, was easily
filled by Congress with the word "powder." At
one time there was not half a pound to a man.
General Sullivan writes that when General Wash-
ington heard of this, he was so much struck by the



'S. ~



danger that he did not utter a word for half an
When Washington left Philadelphia for Cam-
bridge, he wrote to his wife as if he expected to
return after a short campaign. Perhaps he said
this to comfort her. Perhaps he really hoped that
by a short, sharp struggle the colonies would show
Great Britain that they were in earnest, and would
secure the rights which had been taken from them.
At any rate, from the day he took command of the
army in Cambridge, Washington had one purpose
in view, to attack Boston just as soon as possible.
The summer was not over before he called his offi-
cers together and proposed to make the attack.
They hesitated, and finally said they were not
ready for so bold a move. He called a council
again, the middle of October, but still he could not
bring them to the point. He kept on urging it,
however, as the one thing to do, and Congress at
last, just at the end of the year, passed a resolu-
tion giving Washington authority to make an
assault upon the British forces in any manner
he might think expedient, notwithstanding the
town and property in it might be destroyed."
As soon as he received this authority, Washing-
ton again called his officers together, and urged
with all his might the necessity of immediate ac-
tion. He thought they should make a bold attempt
at once to conquer the English army in Boston.
In the spring more troops would come over from
England. "Strike now!" he said, "and perhaps
it will not be necessary to strike again." But it was
not till the middle of February that he was able
to persuade his generals to agree to a move. As
soon as he had won them over, he made his prepa-
rations as rapidly as possible, and on the 3d of
March took possession of Dorchester Heights.
That movement showed the British what was com-
ing. If they were to stay in Boston, they would at
once be attacked. They took to their ships and
sailed out of Boston harbor.
Washington had driven them out, though he
had fought no battle. It is impossible to say what
would have happened if he could have had his way
before, and attacked Boston. There were many
friends of America in Parliament, and if the news
had come that the New England men had actually
destroyed Boston, the town where their property
was, in their determination to drive out the British
soldiers, I think these friends would have said:
"See how much in earnest these Massachusetts
men are They have a right to be heard, when they
are willing to sacrifice their own town to secure
their rights." Boston was not destroyed, and the
war went on; but one effect of this siege of Boston
was to inspire confidence in Washington. He
showed that he was a born leader. He did not

hold back, but went right to the front, and beck-
oned to the other generals to come and stand
where he stood. He had courage; he was ready
to attack the enemy. It was a righteous cause in
which he was embarked, and he wished to make
short work of the business. There were to be
seven weary years of war, and Washington was
to show in other ways that he was the leader; but
it was a great thing that in the beginning of the
struggle he should have been head and shoulders
above the men around him, and that when he
drew his sword from the scabbard he was no
boaster, but was ready at once to use it.



ON the I3th of April, 1776, Washington was in
New York, which now promised to be the center of
operations. Here he remained four or five months,
making one visit meanwhile to Philadelphia, at
the request of Congress, which wished to confer
with him. He was busy increasing and strengthen-
ing the army and erecting fortifications.
That spring and summer saw a rapid change in
men's minds regarding the war with England.
Washington no longer thought it possible to obtain
what the colonies demanded and still remain sub-
ject to England. He was ready for independence,
and when Congress issued its declaration, Wash-
ington had it read before the army with great sat-
Not long after the declaration of independence,
an English fleet arrived in New York Bay, bring-
ing a large body of troops, under the command of
Lord Howe, who, with his brother Admiral Howe,
had been appointed commissioners to treat with
the Americans. In reality, they only brought a
promise of pardon to the rebels. It was very clear
to Washington that the British Government had
not the slightest intention of listening to the griev-
ances of the colonies with a desire to redress them;
but that they meant by these proposals to distract
the colonies if possible and build up a party there
that would oppose the action of Congress. There
was a little incident attending the arrival of the
commissioners that showed the feeling which
One afternoon, word came that a boat was com-
ing to head-quarters, bringing a messenger from
Lord Howe with a communication. Washington
had noticed that the British, whenever speaking of
him or other American officers, had refused to
regard them as officers of the army; they were
simply private gentlemen who had taken up arms
against the King. Now Washington knew that


while it was in itself a small matter whether he was
addressed by people about him as General Wash-
ington or Mr. Washington, it was not at all a small
matter how Lord Howe addressed him. That
officer had no business with George Washington,
but he might have very important business with
General Washington. Accordingly, he called to-
gether such of the American officers as were at
head-quarters to consult them in regard to the
subject, and they agreed entirely with him. Col-
onel Reed was directed to receive the messenger
and manage the matter.
Accordingly, he entered a boat and was rowed
out toward Staten Island, whence Lord Howe's
messenger was coming. The two boats met half-
way, and Lieutenant Brown-for that was the name
of the messenger-was very polite, and informed
Colonel Reed that he bore a letter from General
Howe to Mr. Washington. Colonel Reed looked
surprised. He himself was an officer in the con-
tinental army, and he knew no such person. There-
upon Lieutenant Brown showed him the letter,
which was addressed, George Washington, Esq.
Colonel Reed was polite, but it was quite impos-
sible for him to bear a letter to the commander
of the American army addressed in that way. The
lieutenant was embarrassed; as a gentleman and
an officer he saw he was in the wrong. He tried
to make matters better by saying that it was an
important letter, but was intended rather for a per-
son who was of great importance in American
councils than for one who was commandingan army.
Colonel Reed continued to refuse the letter, and
the boats parted. Presently, however, Lieutenant
Brown came rowing back and asked by what title
Washington chose to be addressed. It was quite
an unnecessary question, Reed thought. There
was not the slightest doubt as to what General
Washifigton's rank was. The lieutenant knew it
and was really very sorry, but he wished Colonel
Reed would take the letter. Colonel Reed replied
that it was the easiest matter in the world; it only
needed that the letter should be correctly addressed.
And so they parted.
Five days later, an aide-de-camp of General
Howe appeared with a flag and asked that an
interview might be granted to Colonel Patterson,
the British Adjutant-General. Consent was given,
and the next day Washington, with all his officers
about him, received Colonel Patterson, who was
very polite, and addressed him as Your Excel-
lency," which did quite well, though it was dodging
matters somewhat. He tried to explain away the
affair of the letter and said that no impertinence
was intended, and he then produced another, ad-
dressed to George Washington, Esq., etc., etc.
Evidently, Lord Howe thought he had invented

a capital way out of the difficulty. Et cetera, et
cetera! Why, that might cover everything,-Gen-
eral-Commanding, Lord High Rebel, or anything
else this very punctilious Virginia gentleman might
fancy as his title. It would save Washington's
pride and relieve Lord Howe's scruples. Wash-
ington replied coolly, Yes, the et cetera implied
everything, but it also implied anything or nothing.
It was meaningless. He was not a private person;
this letter was meant for a public character, and
as such he could not receive it, unless it acknowl-
edged him properly. So Colonel Patterson was
obliged to pocket the letter and try to cover his
mortification and to deliver the contents verbally.
Perhaps all this sounds like very small business.
In reality it meant a great deal. Were Wash-
ington and other officers rebels against the King,
or were they the officers of a government which
declared itself independent of the King? Lord
Howe gave up trying to force Washington into the
trap, and wrote to his government that it would be
necessary in future to give the American com-
mander his title; and Congress, to whom Wash-
ington reported the matter, passed a resolution ap-
proving of his course and directing that no letter
or message be received on any occasion whatso-
ever from the enemy, by the Commander-in-Chief
or by other commanders of the American army,
but such as should be directed to them in the char-
acters they respectively sustained. Little things
like this went a great way toward making the peo-
ple stand erect and look the world in the face.
The Americans needed, indeed, all the aid and
comfort they could get, for it was plain that they
were at a great disadvantage, with their half-equip-
ped troops stationed some on Long Island and
some in New York, between the North and East
rivers, surrounded by Tories, who took courage
from the presence of a large British force in the
bay. Washington used his best endeavors to
bring about a strong spirit of patriotism in the
camp which should put an end to petty sectional
jealousies, and he felt the sacredness of the cause
in which they were engaged so deeply that he
could not bear to have the army act or think
otherwise than as the servants of God. He issued
a general order which ran as follows:-
"That the troops may have an opportunity of attending public
worship, as well as to take some rest after the great fatigue they
have gone through, the General, in future, excuses them from fa-
tigue duty on Sundays, except at the ship-yards, or on special occa-
sions, until further orders. The General is sorry to be informed
that the foolish and wicked practice of profane cursing and swearing,
a vice heretofore little known in an American army, is growing into
fashion; he hopes the officers will, by example as well as influence,
endeavor to check it, and that both they and the men will reflect,
that we can have little hope of the blessing of Heaven on our arms,
if we insult it by our impiety and folly; added to this, it is a vice so
mean and low, withoutany temptation, that every man of sense and
character detests and despises it."


The time was now at hand when the army would
be put to a severe test, and Washington was to show
his generalship in other and more striking ways.
The battle of Long Island was fought August 27,
1776, and was a severe blow to the American army.
Washington's first business was to withdraw such
of the forces as remained on Long Island to the
mainland, and unite the two parts of his army.

for the troops to hold themselves in readiness to
attack the enemy at night, and he made the troops
that defended the outer line of breastworks to have
all the air of preparation as if they were about to
move at once upon the enemy. All this time it
was raining and uncomfortable enough, for the
soldiers were unprotected by tents or shelter of
any kind, save such rude barriers as they could


He had nine thousand men and their baggage and
arms to bring across a swift strait, while a victo-
rious enemy was so near that their movements
could be plainly heard. Now his skill and energy
were seen. He sent verbal orders for all the boats
of whatever size that lay along the New York shore
up the Hudson and on the East River to be
brought to the Brooklyn side. He issued orders

raise. They kept up a brisk firing at the outposts,
and the men who held the advanced position were
on the alert, expecting every moment orders to
Then they heard dull sounds in the distance
toward the water. Suddenly at about two o'clock
in the morning a cannon went off with a tremendous
explosion. Nobody knew whatit was, and to this day


the accident remains a mystery. But the soldiers
discovered what was going on. A retreat instead
of an advance had been ordered. The order for
an advance was intended to conceal the plan.
Washington was on the shore superintending the
embarkation of the troops. Some had gone over;
when the tide turned, the wind and current were
against them; there were not enough boats to carry
the rest. To add to the confusion one of the offi-
cers blundered, and the men who had been kept
in front to conceal the movement from the British
were ordered down to the Ferry.- For a while it
looked as if the retreat would be discovered, but it
was not, and when morning came the entire army
had been moved across to New York, and not a
man in the British army knew what had been done.
It was a great feat, and Washington, who had not
closed his eyes for forty-eight hours, and scarcely
left the saddle all that time, again showed himself
a masterly general.
He had now to show the same kind of ability the
rest of the autumn. It requires one kind of gen-
eralship to lead men into battle and another to
lead them on a retreat away from the enemy.
With a large fleet in the harbor, it was clear that
the British could at any time destroy New York
and any army that was there. Accordingly, Wash-
ington withdrew his army up the island. The
British followed. They could transport troops on
both sides of the island, by water, and could pre-
vent the Americans from crossing the Hudson River
into New Jersey. They began to land troops on
the shore of East River not far from where the
Thirty-fourth Street Ferry now is. Some breast-
works had been thrown up there and were held by
soldiers who had been in the battle of Long Island.
They seem to have been thoroughly demoralized by
that defeat, for they fled as soon as they saw the
British advancing, and other troops which had
been sent to reinforce them were also seized with
panic and fled.
Washington heard the firing in this direction
and galloped over to the scene. He met the sol-
diers running away and called on them to halt.
But they were overcome by fear and had lost their
self-command. They paid no heed to him, and
Washington, usually cool and self-possessed, was
so enraged by their cowardly behavior that he
flew into a transport of rage, flung down his hat,
exclaiming, Are these the men with whom I am
to defend America !" and drawing his pistols and
sword in turn, rushed upon the fugitives, trying to
drive them back to their duty. He had no fear of
danger himself, and he was within a short distance
of the British, riding about furiously, when one of
his aids, seeing the danger, seized the horse's
bridle and called his commander to his senses.

To cover the army, Washington posted his
forces across the narrow upper part of the island,
from Fort Washington on the Hudson to the
Harlem River, and here he kept the British at
bay while his men recovered their strength and
were ready for further movements. Meanwhile,
across the Hudson River from Fort Washington,
another fort, named from General Lee, had been
built, and Washington had posted General Greene-
there. It was evident that with the British in
force, with an army and navy, it would be impos-
sible to hold New York or the Hudson River, andi
it was also clear that should Washington's army
be defeated there, the British would at once move
on Philadelphia, where Congress was sitting.
With New York commanding the Hudson River
and with Philadelphia in their hands, the British
would have control of the most important parts of
Washington saw also that there was hard work
before him and that it would be impossible to carry
on the war with an army which was enlisted for a
year only, and he bent his energies toward per-
suading Congress to enlist men for a longer period.
He had to organize this new army and to su-
perintend countless details. His old habits of
method and accuracy stood him in good stead
then, and he worked incessantly, getting affairs into
order, for he knew that the British would soon
move. Indeed, it is one of the strange things in
history that the British, with the immense advan-
tage which they had, did not at once after the
battle of Long Island press forward and break down
the Continental army in a quick succession of at-
tacks by land and water. It is quite certain that
Washington, in their place, would not have de-
layed action.
At the end of October, Washington occupied a
position at White Plains, in the rocky, hilly coun-
try north of New York. Step by step he had
given way before General Howe, who had been
trying to get the American army where he could
surround it and destroy it. Washington, on the
other hand, could not afford to run any risks. He
wished to delay the British as long as possible, and
not fight them till he had his new army well
organized. There was a battle at White Plains,
and the Americans were forced back; but
Washington suddenly changed his position,
moved his men quickly to a stronger place, and
began to dig intrenchments. He was too weak to
fight in the open field, but he could fight with his
spade, and he meant to give Howe all the trouble
he could. He expected another attack, but in a
day or two there were signs of a movement, and he
discovered that the enemy was leaving his front.
He was not quite certain what Howe's plans



j I



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might be. I.ut he .a_; quit.- sure h, F .. :.uuil:l mo!l on
Philadelphla lMean hi.: lh kept .at.:h :' F,.rt
Washington. ind;, : i. rdr.: t tha.. t l.oul.i bLi heki
only so ::, .i- a.1: t a. : r. ruilI rnt, b.t thi in c.r e /s
of extrer-', dinJ.-r r, it .h,.i.ld' I.Ce :;.-tcr. I.p u lar it,
garrison :r,:i-.: the ri ci r... F-rt L.:=. H- hi- .elt- ;
with all L.'ut tl.-e N-.. Er:Il' irid tr...p ,:r.-,:d '
the river h-!:,lei up, at li.o .;' Fer:-,. iTh. N,-..
England ii.d N: V .:ri i.'-.:,p H.: p.:: r-d on I
both side- ,: thil- r.L er v. d nd th.r p:i,:: in
the Highlandi, .:r it .: *r'-r imp.:.itar.:e to
have open ,..:mniur.:Caitn bt.i -en Prhilailphii \
and New Er.-.Jlaj.. A .-i -i..ri al-.- 1 as !.t u- .'
der Gen.r:il L,-.- ar Wl-t -'!:i. h. wa. to be
ready to j.inr \V_-.i-.hr, .:. 1 h..n it b.::imi ne:-.s ir.




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General Greene, who was in command at Fort
Lee, on the New Jersey side of the Hudson, hoped
to keep Fort Washington, on the New York side,
which was also under his command. He hoped to
keep it even after the British had begun to lay
siege to it. Washington was obliged to leave this
business to Greene's discretion, for he was occu-
pied with moving his army across the river, higher
up, and if the fort could have held out, they might
have been able to prevent the British from crossing
to New Jersey. But Greene counted on a stouter
defense than the men in the fort gave, and when
Washington at last reached Fort Lee it was only
to see from the banks of the river the surrender of
Fort Washington with its military stores and two
thousand men. It was a terrible loss; and, more-
over, the capture of that fort made it impossible to
hold Fort Lee, which was at once abandoned.
Now began a wonderful retreat. The English
under Lord Cornwallis, with a well-equipped army,
and flushed with recent victory, crossed over to
New Jersey and began moving forward. They
were so prompt that the Americans left their kettles
on the fire in Fort Lee as they hastily left. Wash-
ington, with a small, ragged, discouraged army
fell back from the enemy, sometimes leaving a
town at one end as the British entered it at the
other; but he broke down bridges, he destroyed
provisions, and so hampered and delayed the
enemy that they made less than seventy miles
over level country in nineteen days.
Meanwhile the British general was issuing proc-
lamations calling upon the people of New Jersey
to return to their allegiance, and promising them
pardon. Many gave up and asked protection. It
seemed as if the war were coming to an end, and
that all the struggle had been in vain. The Ameri-
can army, moreover, had been enlisted for a short
term only, and before the end of December most
of the men would have served their time. General
Lee delayed and delayed, and Washington himself
was harassed and well-nigh disheartened; but he

meant to die hard. One day, when affairs looked
very dark, he turned to Colonel Reed, who was
by him, and said, drawing his hand significantly
across his throat: Reed, my neck does not feel
as though it was made for a halter. We must
retire to Augusta County in Virginia,'and if over-
powered, must pass the Alleghany Mountains."
But Washington was made for something more
than a guerilla chieftain. He had put the Dela-
ware River between his army and the British, who
were now scattered over New Jersey, going into
winter quarters, and intending, when the river was
frozen, to cross on the ice and move upon Phila-
delphia. Suddenly, on Christmas night, Washing-
ton recrossed the river with his little army, making
a perilous passage through cakes of floating ice
that crunched against the boats, surprised a large
detachment of Hessians near Trenton, and captured
a thousand prisoners. Eight days later he fought
the battle of Princeton. Within three weeks he
had completely turned the tables. He had driven
the enemy from every post it occupied in New
Jersey, except Brunswick and Amboy, made Phil-
adelphia safe, and shown the people that the
army, which was thought to be on the verge of
destruction, could be used in the hands of a great
general like a rod with which to punish the enemy.
Men were beginning to see that here was one who
was a true leader of men.
On the day after the victory at Trenton, Con-
gress, "having maturely considered the present
crisis, and having perfect reliance on the wisdom,
vigor and uprightness of General Washington,"
passed a resolution that General Washington
shall be, and he is hereby, vested with full, ample,
and complete powers to raise armies, appoint offi-
cers, and exercise control over the parts of the
country occupied by the army." Washington had
been constantly checked by the necessity of refer-
ring all questions to Congress and to his generals.
Now he was to have full power, for he had shown
himself a man fit to be trusted with power.

(To be continued.)



"IF the weather is fair,"
Said the butterfly, jaunty and free,-
"If the weather is fair,
I'll go dance in the meadow there!"
"And I," said the prudent bee,
"Will be early at work, you will see,-
If the weather is fair "





A NUMBER of years ago, an English naturalist
was sitting on the edge of a small stream that
flowed sluggishly into the sea on the coast of
British Guiana, when his attention was attracted
by some curious holes that lined the cliff just
above the water. He had fully determined to
investigate these crab-caves, as he supposed them
to be, when he was startled by seeing a fish,

known to the natives as the hussar," which had
been darting up and down and apparently having
a rollicking time, run suddenly up into shoal water,
and begin to struggle for the shore. At first the
naturalist thought that it was pursued by some
larger fish and that its action was due to fright;
but the fish, retaining its upright position, kept
wriggling on slowly up the beach by using its




pectoral fins as feet, and in a few moments it dis-
appeared within one of the supposed crab-holes.
Wondering then whether the fish were hunting
crabs, or seeking its nest, the watcher soon de-
cided the question as he saw, farther down the
shore, several other hussars entering their nests.
Springing down, he caught a number of the fishes
in their homes.
The fishes had excavated the holes in the bank
just above the surface of the water, and in them
had formed regular nests of grass or leaves, in which

of Opfiocefphalus, one species of which is found
in the Sea of Galilee, is a singular creature. At the
approach of the breeding season, it seeks a favorable
place to build-- generally in shallow water. There
perhaps an old sunken root is found, or a project-
ing ledge of rock. To that spot bits of grass,
leaves, growing sea-weed, and refuse of all kinds
are brought by the parents, which now proceed
to weave this building material into an oval
shape. The threads of grass are wound in and
out, entangled with one another in various ways,


the roe or eggs were deposited. The young, when
hatched, at once tumbled out into the water and
were then protected by the parents.
Such a method of rearing their young is certainly
remarkable. In forming their nests, fishes some-
times remind us of the birds, and some of them
indeed may be said to equal their feathered cousins
intheirnest-buildingfaculty. Thiscurious "hussar"
fish may be compared with the cliff-swallow that
burrows its way into the bluffs, and builds its nest
several feet from the entrance, or to the Southern
petrel, that excavates its nest in a still more won-
derful manner.
. The fish known to naturalists by the long name

and the interstices filled with mud. During
the construction, one or more orifices are left
leading into the nest or entirely through it; the
grasses are wound around the old root, and finally
a compact oval nest is seen suspended and swing-
ing in the tide,--a veritable cradle for the baby
The eggs are deposited in the interior, and
attach themselves to the grass and the sides of the
nest. In due time swarms of tiny fishes fill this
curious abode, and show a decided inclination
to stray away. They are, however, watched and
guarded by the parents, which drive them back
when they wander too far from home.


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This nest-building fish of the Sea of Galilee
displays, however, a still more curious method
of protection,-for in time of danger, the young
are frequently taken into the capacious mouth of
the male parent-fish, and thus guarded from harm.
This habit is common to quite a number of fishes.

An enormous cat-fish called the lan-lan, that some-
times attains a length of thirteen feet and a weight
of over two hundred pounds, has been seen sur-
rounded by a swarm of young, which upon the
slightest alarm rushed into its open mouth for
protection; and one of the largest of the South
American fresh-water fishes, protects its young
in the same way.
The method of a curious South American fish,
called the asfredo, is no less wonderful. The parent
does not carry its eggs in its mouth, but fastens
them to its body and fins, by means of stems or
stalks; so that each egg has a sort of cradle to
itself. As the fish rushes along, these swing to
and fro, presenting the appearance of a number
of barbels or bells.
A cat-fish at Panama has still another method of
carrying its young. This is no less than a pouch,
reminding us of kangaroo. But the perfection of
this paternal care -for it is the father that has the
pouch-is observed in the sea-horses and pipe-
fishes. These have a perfect pouch, into which the

infant fishes are taken as soon as hatched, and
in which they are carried about until they are able
to make their own way in the world. A sea-horse
in charge of its young is a very curious sight. The
parent fastens its prehensile tail about some
pieces of weed, and drives the young fry into
the outer world, and soon a host of young sea-
colts are seen moving along upright in the
water by the curious screw movement of their
dorsal or back fins, a body of them appearing
like a tiny cloud in the water. The little creatures
are so helpless that many of them-sometimes
the entire brood-fall a prey to other fishes.
They are, however, provided with a means of pro-
tection by their resemblance to plants. The pipe-
fishes look much like the grass among which they
live, and the sea-horses are often decorated with
curious barbels and fringes that resemble the weeds
under cover of which they hide themselves.
Among the fishes of the ocean that show a
decided affection for their young, should be men-
tioned the curious Cyclopterus lumfus- the lump-
fish, or "hen and chickens," so common upon the
coast of Maine. The name "lump-fish" expresses
the general appearance of this fish far better than
a long description could, as the creature's body
is covered with curious lumps and excrescences
that add to the peculiarity of its appearance.
The lump-fish is equally common on the Eng-
lish coast, and as the time for rearing a family
approaches, it constructs from the sea-weed a rude
nest for the protection of the eggs. These the
watchful parents guard, their ugly forms, probably,
having a decided effect upon all intruders, though,
in truth, the lump-fishes are utterly incapable of
harming any enemy, and, with their clumsy move-
ments, are unable to catch other fishes in a chase.
As soon as the young are hatched, they follow one
of the parent-fishes, in a drove or herd, clustering
about its head, now darting off, returning with
a rush and cuddling under it, after the manner
of small chickens seeking refuge under their
mother's wings; hence the name of "hen and
chickens" bestowed upon them by the English
Though the lump-fishes are poor swimmers, and
likely, if hurled among the breakers, to be thrown
upon the shore, nature has provided them with
ample means of protection. The lower fins join
in such a way as to form a complete sucker, so
that when in danger of being knocked about by
the waves, the fish has merely to settle upon a
rock, fasten its sucker-like fins to this, and ride
out the gale or season of danger like a ship at
anchor on a lee shore.







WE 'RE going this year to Littleton,
My wife, our Jack, and Nan and I.
Now Nan is seven, and Jack is ten;
How many tickets shall I buy?

Jack pays half-fare, and Nan pays none,
Though with her dolls she fills a seat;
However stern conductors are,
They give her only glances sweet.

But this year, Nan her kitten takes,
A little, purring, playful thing;
While Jacky has a grave young pug,
Which everywhere he 's bound to bring.

Nan has a long-legged Brahma chick,-
She loves that pet with all her heart;
And Jacky owns three pretty doves,
From which he can not bear to part.

"In cage and basket," say the two,
"Well covered up, our pets can go."
They have no doubts; but I have mine,-
And this is what I want to know:

If the cat mews, the puppy barks,
And if the doves at once all coo,
And if the Brahma chicken crows,
As the conductor passes through,

What will he say? How will he look?
What shall I do, in my despair?
Can I, for such a tribe, hand up
Our tickets two, and one half-fare?

We 're going this year to Littleton,
My wife,. our Jack, and Nan and I,
Dog, cat, three dolls, three doves, a chick -
How many tickets shall I buy?



THE violet blooms in a shady place
Iyhere the sun comes peeping through;
The hare-bell grows on gray old rocks
And shows its robes of blue.

The May-flower grows on a wooded hill
At the foot of the green old pines,
Where the ferns and moss in clusters show
And the checker-berry twines.

These all grow in the fairest bowers;
There is no room for the daisy flowers.

So the daisy grows by the dusty road,
Sweet and sunny and shy,
Lifting its pretty, modest head
To nod to each passer-by.

" Why do you grow by
the roadside,
dear? .
It is all dust
and sand;
Come to the vio- -
let's shady
Or join the May-
flower's band."

But the daisy said:
The violet's place
Is better for her, you
And the May-flower's
place is better for
And mine is the best
for me."



[A Summer Visitors Account of Cam( Chocorua.]


IN the Indian language the meaning of
"Asquam" is "shining waters," and surely no
name could better describe the beautiful lake of
sparkling blue, which, nestling among the noble
White Mountains, is dotted with numerous islands.
Upon one of these islands is Camp Chocorua, so
called from the mountain of that name,-the
highest point to be seen in the chain of hills
inclosing the lake.
Some five years ago it was decided to establish
on this island a summer camp for boys, the term
to begin in June, and to end about the tenth of Sep-
tember. The first summer the camp opened with
some half-dozen boys. Last season, twenty-five
manly little fellows tumbled in and out of the lake,
like water brownies, perfectly fearless, paddling
canoes which had been made by themselves, swim-
ming equally well in clothes or without, and grow-
ing active and healthy in the strong, pure mountain
Five men, composing "the faculty" in this sum-
mer camp, have charge of the boys, and "freedom
without license might almost be the camp motto,
so careless, happy, and untrammeled are the lads,
yet so perfect is the discipline. One of the first
principles of the camp system is, that in every
way the faculty shall live the same lives as the boys
themselves, sharing their work as well as their
pleasures; the spirit existing between the two is
therefore far less that of master and pupil than that
of good comrades, who are at the same time helpful
Life at Camp Chocorua is a busy one. There
are no "'book lessons," to be sure; but a good many
things are taught that are not always to be found
in books. To begin with, bracing mountain air
and active out-of-door life give a keen appetite,
and it is no small undertaking to provide food for
twenty or thirty hungry mouths. Then, too, the tin
dishes and plates in which the food is cooked and
eaten have to be cleaned and kept in order, and
"dish-washing" therefore becomes a necessity.
The kitchen-beach is a lively place at these times.
In the carpenter's shop, there is work of various
kinds to be done; there, too, canoes are built, but
no boy is allowed to paddle or sail a canoe until
he is an adept at swimming, and can be trusted
to take care of himself in the water. This rule is
one of the strictest in camp. The Golden Rod is
the camp newspaper. It is edited and entirely con-

ducted by the boys. In its columns appears a notice
to the effect that the Good Will Contracting
Company washes clothes, irons clothes, cleans and
tidies beaches, builds piers, stone walls, steps, etc.,
carries dirt and publishes newspapers." From
this announcement idleness would seem to stand
but a poor chance at Camp Chocorua. The boys
are divided into four crews, and these crews
undertake in turn the different kinds of work:
one day, the cooking; the next, dish-washing;
the third, police duty, which includes the tidy-
ing of beaches, and all work assigned to no
other crew. The fourth day is "off duty." This


changes the kind of work done daily, and yet
gives each boy a chance of learning all the tasks.
One of the faculty works with each crew of boys.
The boys sleep in wooden buildings, which are
roofed over, but thoroughly ventilated, and the lads
seem cozy enough lying curled up in army blankets
or on mattresses placed on the floor. They may, if
they wish, take a dip in the lake before breakfast,





and no one who has not tried it can realize the
brightening, bracing, "wakening-up" effect of that
morning dip How it clears the brain and invigor-
ates the body,
makingonefeel r .'--
equal to all '
things, strong I
andreadyto do!
The regular .
morning swim
does not take rl
placeuntil later, i
-about eleven /r
o'clock, after j
the camp work .
is completed. I
Allthrough the
week the boys '-
may wear shoes
and stockings, '
or they may go
barefoot, justas I
they happen to '
fancy, and the --
camp costume ,
consists of a
gray flannel
shirt and short
trousers. I' "',
On Sunday, .
however, they
all wear, in ad-
dition, scarlet
stockings, and
scarlet caps, "
while their gray
shirts are laced
with scarlet )
cords. Abonny
crew they look, THE SUN
as they push off
in the "church boat" at three o'clock, to meet, at
Cox's beach, half a mile away, any visitors from the
neighboring hotel or farm-houses who may wish to
join in the Sunday services. These are conducted
in a lovely spot called the "chapel," on the farther
side of the island. Rustic seats are ranged around
an open space, in the center of which, above a rock
forming a natural altar, rises a large cross made of
white birch. This altar is dressed with leaves and
flowers by the boys, before the service begins; and
after the little congregation is assembled, one hears
in the distance clear young voices singing some
processional hymn, and along a path through the
woods, with the sunlight dancing in and out among
the branches, the boys come nearer and nearer.
Then they take their places at the place appointed

for the choir, whilst Mr. Ernest Balch takes his on
the other side of the flower-decked rock, and reads
the service.


The offertory made at these services goes to the
different charities contributed to by the camp, and
more than one sick boy or girl in different hospi-
tals have whiled away hours of loneliness and suf-
fering by reading ST. NICHOLAS, which those
happy, healthy boys at Camp Chocorua have sent
them as a solace in their pain. Sunday afternoon
is devoted to writing letters to home-folk, and in
the evening, at prayers, Mr. Balch has a quiet
talk with the boys in the chapel.
The summer sports take place in August, and
consist of fancy swimming and diving, canoe and
boat racing, base-ball and tennis. Last year the
parents and friends of the boys, to the number of
one hundred, accepted the invitation of the camp,
and dined there at the conclusion of the sports,



which lasted two days. A few weeks later some
little plays were acted by the boys. These were
very clever productions, and they were excellently
performed. The price of admission was modestly
placed at fifteen cents, but the visitors gave more
than that, since the object of the entertainment
was to add to money already collected which was
to be devoted to endowing a bed in a children's
free hospital, so soon as the required amount
could be raised. A huge bonfire was burning
brightly on the shore, and dozens of red-capped

allowance is given to every boy, no matter what
may be the difference in their parents' means. This
allowance is small, and if more money is desired,
either for candy, or soda water, or as a contribution
to the charities, or to buy materials for a new canoe,
or to purchase a canoe already built,--for any extra
luxury in fact,-the boy with such desires is obliged
to earn the money needed, and work which is paid
for at the regular rate of wages for labor will always
be furnished him whereby he can earn it. Con-
tracts can be taken for leveling paths, or building

., .-. N



boys darting about in its ruddy blaze, proved
a picturesque contrast to the great white moon
as it rose slowly above the mountains and threw
a broad band of silvery light across the lake,
while from boat to boat cheery good-nights"
rang over the water as the guests who had en-
joyed the evening's festivities were rowed to shore.
These charities at Camp Chocorua mean, in the
purest sense of the words, helping others out of
one's own store," for the money contributed by the
boys is their own, fairly earned by them to do with
as they please. Once in camp, an equal weekly

walls, or anything else which is needed at the
camp, and the money earned by such work is
deposited in the Chocorua Bank by the boy earn-
ing it. Against this amount on deposit, he draws
his check in strict business fashion, which check
is duly honored and cashed. If at the end of the
term any surplus remains to his credit, he has
entire right to dispose of it as he may choose, but
no money from home is granted a boy exceeding
the original sum stipulated as his weekly allowance.
Just as men work and make money, and learn how
to use that money in the outer world, so do these




boys work, and make money and use it in this
miniature world at Camp Chocorua. By the time
they are ready to enter a larger sphere in life, they
know and appreciate the worth of money honestly
earned, and understand the true art of spending it.
Lest the boys should in truth become very water-
sprites, they go, toward the end of the term, for a
week's tramp over the hills. A large canvas-
topped wagon, drawn by oxen, carries blankets
and provisions, and any boys who grow tired
and foot-sore can have a lift when they feel like
it. They camp out at night and have many amus-
ing adventures by day; and at the different farm-
houses to which they come in their wanderings,

fresh milk is willingly furnished to the jolly,
brown-faced, red-capped lads, who make the hills
ring cheerily with their songs and laughter. Each
year the youngest boy of the whole party is called
the camp infant," and is accorded several extra
privileges, not the least of which is the right of
tasting the ice-cream whenever it is made, without
having been obliged to assist in making it.
Were I a boy, the life at Camp Chocorua would
be my idea of a thoroughly good time, combining
as it does plenty of fun, and a free, open-air life,
with the acquisition of much useful knowledge for
one's self, and the habit of exercising a thoughtful
helpfulness for others.



UNDER the greenwood tree,
Who loves to lie with me,
And tune his merry note
Unto the sweet bird's throat;
Who doth ambition shun,
And loves to live in the sun,
Seeking the food he eats,
And pleased with what he gets,-
Come hither, come hither, come hither,
Here shall he see
No enemy."-
THESE lines from Shakspere's "As You Like It"
came to me again and again as Papa finished the
reading of a circular which a friend had handed him.
Camp Harvard," so the circular declared, is
located on the shore of one of New Hampshire's
most picturesque lakes, about equidistant from
Winchendon, Mass., and Rindge, N. H. The
design of the camp is to furnish boys with a rational
and healthy outdoor life during the summer months,
where, under competent care and supervision, they
can learn to swim, row, fish, do some tramping
and mountain-climbing, and engage in other
manly sports; form and cultivate good habits,
and build up their bodily strength. The cabins
are of wood, roofed, floored, commodious, and
weatherproof. Each member has a cot. The
best of wholesome food is provided."
"I know one of the two young men who estab-
lished Camp Harvard," said Papa, as he concluded
the reading of the circular. They are students
at the Cambridge Theological Seminary. I have
made some inquiries, and I shall be glad to have
you spend the summer in the woods with them. I
presume the other boys will be much younger than
yourself, but you would, doubtless, find many of
them companionable; and life in the open air, for

a couple of months, would, I think, be pleasant
and beneficial to you."
It was a long time before I fell asleep that
night. I had always been anxious to camp out,
and here was a glorious opportunity.
Then followed busy days. The circular said:
"Boys are recommended to bring, in addition
to the clothes they travel in, two gray flannel
shirts, two pairs old trousers, knickerbockers
(one pair corduroy), long rubber coat, swim-
ming trunks, two pairs heavy blankets (dark),
strong shoes (one or two pairs with rubber soles),
old overcoat, ordinary underclothing, stout red
belt, high stockings (two pairs dark red), slippers,
night-shirts or pajamas, brush and comb, sponge,
towels, soap-case, two tooth-brushes, tennis rac-
quet, skull-cap, belt-knife, and an old jacket."
Mamma saw that I was supplied with all these
things, and on the morning of July I, I took my
place on a railroad train, bound for Rindge. As
we approached Rindge, I spied a large mount-
ain-wagon with four horses drawn up alongside
the shanty which served as a depot. I was confi-
dent that this was for the campers, for it already
contained five boys. Ten boys left the train.
The divinity student, who was one of the mas-
ters" of the camp, and whom I had already met
in the city, welcomed me, and we all took seats
in the wagon. Up hill and down we traveled, and
the horses seemed to enjoy it as much as we did.
Mountain drivers have a way of slowing up
their horses going downhill, and sending them up
on a gallop. Now the road wound along a narrow
ledge beside Monomonock and thence onward
through a dense forest, where tall, straight sugar-



maples raised their leafy crowns high in air; smooth
beeches, with round, gray trunks, stood like mas-
sivepillars; and great yellow birches, with shaggy,
curling bark and gnarled limbs, rose like monarchs

softly. Then there is a rustling of leaves, a patter-
ing of quick, light feet, and a red squirrel runs
along a fallen trunk, peers at one curiously, and,
half in fear, half in audacity, gives its sharp, shrill


above the lesser trees. Finally, a sudden turn
in the road brought us face to face with the
words, "CAMP HARVARD," in large red letters
on a sign suspended from a noble oak. The
gate-bars were down and a ride of less than half
a mile farther brought us to a pretty grove where
clustered the cabins that composed the camp.
Who has not felt the pleasures of life in the
forest? It is quite impossible to put them into
words, or to make one who has never experienced
them understand what they are.
There is a sense of freedom and freshness every
hour. A round of simple, natural toils and amuse-
ments fills up each day. The ear soon becomes
attuned to the surroundings, and it begins to hear a
gentle sound, like the dropping of ceaseless rain.
It is the pattering of the minute particles falling
from spruce and pine and hemlock, to mingle with
decaying roots and underbrush and form the rich,
dark forest-mold on which every step falls so

bark. A little bird which one can not see pierces
the air with a slender, long-drawn note. A wood-
pecker beats his sounding tattoo on a hollow tree,
and, growing bolder, comes nearer and nearer,
until perhaps he ventures to try the very trunk
against which you are leaning.
Everything about the camp was examined by us
with great interest. First the cookhouse, where a
man was preparing dinner. This cabin contained
a range, two long tables, a refrigerator, and a
great quantity of cooking utensils. All the dishes,
cups, saucers, and platters were of tin and
shone like mirrors. Adjoining, was the store-
house, which was the base of table supplies.
The sleeping cabin was about fifty feet in
length and oblong, with a slanting roof. The
upper half of sides and rear were flaps," swing-
ing on hinges. These were open during the day,
but usually closed at night. Above the flaps was an
open space of fourteen inches all around, and over




this the eaves projected. Cots were ranged about
the sides of the cabin, and choice of these was de-
cided by lot. At one end was an open veranda,
where the dining-tables stood. Large reflecting
lanterns were placed at intervals, and several small
lights hung in a row near the entrance.
There were an ample medicine chest and other
useful camp features, and over one end of the
cabin was a loft for trunks. Fifty feet from the ca-
bin was the beach. The pretty lake showed scarcely

while old Monadnock towered aloft as commander
over all.
The tooting of a horn summoned us back to
headquarters. Trunks were put in place, blankets
and the camp toggery brought forth; we exchanged
our city clothes for the latter, and life at Camp
Harvard began. Consulting the bulletin, I found
myself assigned to duty as table-boy," with one
of the fellows who came up on the train as my
associate. It was new work for me, but one of the


a ripple upon its fair surface. It was three miles
long and at some points a mile wide, with many
coves and inlets. Part of it seemed like a succession
of small lakes. Along the shore, were boats in
great variety, from the flat-bottomed fishing-boats
to the racing gig with its outriggers and delicate
lines. The silent hills beyond lifted themselves
toward heaven in the glory of enduring strength,
VOL. XIII.-39.

masters took hold with us. The table was soon set
and a steaming hot dinner was brought from the
cookhouse. Grace was said by one of the masters,
the company all standing with bare heads; then
caps were resumed and hungry appetites began tobe
appeased. Greatmilk-cans, eachholdingten quarts,
were brought up from the icehouse. The supply
of bread, vegetables, or meat needed constant




replenishing. When dinner was over and the table
had been cleared and the floor swept, my duties
ceased until supper-time. The camp work was done
by detachments of boys whose assignments varied
with each day. A bulletin containing the assignments
for the following day was posted each evening, so that
every boy knew in advance what was required of
him. All campers, masters included, shared the
dailylabors. The plan succeeded admirably. Each
boy grew to be particular in the discharge of his
duties, for neglect was seen to be a boomerang.
For instance, if the boy whose special care hap-
pened to be drinking-water, failed to keep up a
fresh supply, the other fellows who had to suffer
for his shortcomings made life a burden to him;
and so the whole camp acted as a sort of police
force to keep each member up to the mark. This
arrangement transferred much responsibility from
the masters to the boys themselves, and a sense
of responsibility is a good thing for anybody.
After supper, a roaring camp-fire was built, and
by this time we all were very well acquainted, and
gradually came out of our shells. The masters were
plied with questions, and yarns were spun. Per-
haps the pleasantest feature of camp life was
the evening gathering around the blazing logs, and
the nine o'clock horn always seemed to toot ahead
of time. The brother of one of the masters had
spent a year among the mines and ranches of
Colorado, and his graphic descriptions and thrilling
tales were admirably adapted to our willing ears.
Songs we always had. They may not have ranked
high as literary productions; any lack in this
respect, however, was more than made up by their
spirited rendering. Here is one, to the tune of
" It 's a way we have at old Harvard ":
It's a way we have at Camp Harvard,
It's a way we have at Camp Harvard,
It's a way we have at Camp Harvard,
To pass the time away.
If 1 'd a son or a ward, sir,
A 'dig,' a prig, or a hard, sir,-
I'd send him to Camp Harvard, sir,
To pass the time away.
For we'd like to have you know, sir,
That shirking is no go, sir;
First work, then play, and so, sir,
We pass the time away.
Now if you really wish, sir,
An epicurean dish, sir,
Just wait till we bake this fish, sir,
To pass the time away."
-and so on through several stanzas.
By ten o'clock every night, we wrapped ourselves
up in our blankets, lights went out, and silence reign-
ed. I did n't chafe much under this rule, for the
true camper is always asleep as soon as he lies down.
The next thing I heard was a buzzing sound-
the alarm clock had rung, it was half-past six, and



the sunlight was streaming in upon the campers.
Several of us jumped into the lake for a bath ; later
in the season this morning plunge became general,
and every fellow had to report with soap and tooth-
brush. After breakfast, there came the usual camp
work,- lanterns to be filled, the sleeping cabin to
be swept out, various police" duties to be attend-
ed to, and fuel to be provided; at eleven, there was
instruction in swimming. And so the days went by.
The work was so systematized as not to fall heavily
upon any one person, unless he shirked; and there
was ample time for base-ball, cricket, tennis, fish-
ing, boating, and other amusements. When the
days were very warm, hammocks were very popu-
lar. The Fourth of July was celebrated with ap-
propriate exercises. The Stars and Stripes floated
gayly from our staff, and the cabins were decked
with bunting and small flags. At night, the farmers
and woodsmen, with their sisters, cousins, aunts,
and sweethearts, began to swarm down upon us
and lined the lake shore. Our fireworks were set
off from a scow anchored one hundred yards from
land, and the effect was fine.
Sunday morning breakfasts were after the
most approved New England fashion,-baked
beans, brown bread, fishballs, and chocolate.
Everybody was expected to write a letter home
during the forenoon. After dinner came the
choir rehearsal, followed by four o'clock service in
a picturesque little opening in the woods which
nature seemed to have designed for a chapel.
There rough benches had been made under the
shadowy trees, and the sylvan chancel had been
carpeted with moss. At the back of the chancel,
stood a great rude cross; outlined boldly against
the somber background of dense forest; and di-
rectly before us was a rustic pulpit. Our Sunday
service in this woodland sanctuary was attended
by large numbers of strangers, many driving
a distance of twelve or fifteen miles. The master
who acted as minister wore a white surplice and
read the service of the Episcopal Church. The
chants and a familiar hymn were sung to a violin
accompaniment. Then came a short address.
A collection was always taken up in behalf of
the Charity Fund, which, at the end of the season,
the boys voted to divide between the Sheltering
Arms Nursery of Brooklyn, and the Boys' Home in
The mail arrived at noon and sunset each day,
being brought by "the captain," an aged mem-
ber of an historic New Hampshire family. The
captain was often accompanied by his good wife.
She was a motherly creature, and both -were prime
favorites at camp. The captain had served his
country in the war, and had many a yarn to spin.
The camp dog was a splendid Newfoundland


named Duke, and he was the champion swimmer.
Two of the campers had cameras and took photo-
graphs, which they sold at good profit.
We were often visited by city people boarding
at some one of the farmhouses within a radius of
ten or twelve miles. Some of these visitors came
often, and apparently found considerable satisfac-
tion in observing the details of camp life. Some
of us knew a number of Boston and New York
people at one of the most popular of these board-

4- n



-".,, '"

ing-houses, and one day these friends gave us a
most enjoyable entertainment, consisting of a
lawn-party, a tennis tournament, and a supper. At
another time, we went to a sheet-and-pillow-case
party at the same place. Later on, some friends
at another boarding-house delighted us with
a series of tableaux and charades, followed by
Several business partnerships were formed among
the boys. Contracts for work were awarded to the
firms making the lowest bids. The successful
,bidders would hire other boys to help them. The
specifications had to be strictly observed. Among
other things, a new wharf was built, one of the
cabins shingled, and another covered with tar-

Boys could do as they pleased with money
earned in this way. Idleness was not popular.
One fine day, we took a long tramp up Mount
Monadnock. An early start was made, and by
noon we had covered more than half the distance.
Halt was ordered in a shady grove, and before
long our wagon arrived with blankets, rubber coats,
cooking utensils, provisions, and various tools. We
had a substantial lunch while resting on the banks
of a pretty brook, before we resumed our march.
We soon reached the
base of the mountain, and
then the climb began. But
it is a long lane that knows
no turning, and rest came
at last. We drove stakes
in a picturesque glen on
a plateau just below the
summit,- a well-chosen
spot, shielded from the
wind. A bountiful sup-
ply of fuel and of pine
boughs for bedding was
immediately secured. A
fireplace was built, and our
supper soon began to stew
in the great kettle which
hung from a tripod. One
of our favorite dishes was
flapjacks. Numerous vis-
itors came from the fash-
ionable hotel down the
mountain, where, the next
evening, an impromptu

to us. We were on the
mountain three days, and
they were full of incident
and pleasure. At night,
we slept around the blazing
logs, and two boys were
assigned to stand watch each hour, so that no one
was deprived of much sleep. Every fellow washed
his own plate, cup, knife, and spoon after each
meal, and submitted them for inspection to one
of the boys who acted as assistant-master. We all
were sorry to leave the old mountain. But it was
good to plant foot once more upon our native
heath. And Camp Harvard was always dearer
than ever when we returned to it after such an
Until he could swim a certain distance, no
camper was allowed in the boats. All of the boys
were soon quite at home in and on the water.
One of the Philadelphia boys made the best mile
record. There were various organizations in camp,
such as cricket, base-ball, tennis, and rowing clubs,


and a society of naturalists. Then there were
various committees. The steward of the Charity
Fund was very energetic, and before we broke up
camp, he had collected a great quantity of used
clothing, which we voted to divide between the
newsboys of New York and Boston.
On August 13 and 14 came the annual ath-
letic meeting. There were all sorts of exercises,
with first and second prizes in each, and entries
closed on the 12th. Crowds of visitors came each
day. The tennis tournament was hotly contested
in both singles and doubles, but the boat races and
tug-of-war were the most exciting events. Long
and short distance walking and running; sack and
obstacle races; throwing the hammer; climbing;
running, standing, and broad jumps; diving;
swimming contests,-all were included in the pro-
gramme. On the night of the 14th, we entertained
a large company of visitors at supper, and a lady
very gracefully presented the prizes. Then fol-
lowed fireworks and music. I had won either first
or second prizes in several events, and experienced
the proud distinction of having my name tele-
graphed to a Boston paper, whose editor was rusti-
cating near by. Some of the records were very
good, considering that the boys, with the single
exception of myself, were only from ten to fourteen
years old.
There was not a single case of serious accident
or illness for the.camp diary to record. We were
all healthily bronzed, and were as hardy as only life

in the open air can make boys; and I am sure that
camp life enabled us all to do better work at school
during the winter.
We broke camp on the morning of September I.
The night before, we had as guests our neighbors
for miles around. Our good friends the Deacon
and the Captain each made touching speeches, and
the camp resounded again and again with three
times three "'rahs for them and other summer
friends, each named in turn. The night was very
cold, but every heart was warm. Sky-rockets shot
through the air, bombs, flower-pots, and other fire-
works exploded, and Lake Monomonock looked
almost like a sheet of fire. Then amid this blaze
of glory our guests departed to the tune of our
favorite song. Lake Monomonock settled down
to its somber stillness; old cloud-capped Mon-
adnock loomed above us like the great pyramid,
and now came a realizing sense of the sad parting
which the morrow threatened to bring us.
Morning came at last. The wind blew fresh
and made the air as clear as crystal. Four-horse
teams were in readiness, horns were produced, and
with one long last look, off we started. Our wood-
land home never seemed so fair as when we turned
our faces away from it. Those fragrant pine-trees
had heard boys cheer before, but never until now
with such lusty vigor and manifest feeling had
come forth that inspiring watch-cry of:
"'Rah! 'rah! 'rah! 'rah! 'rah! 'rah! 'rah! 'rahI



ROBIN on the tilting bough,
Red-breast rover, tell me how
You the weary time have passed
Since we saw and heard you last.

" In a green and pleasant land,
By a summer sea-breeze fanned,
Orange-trees with fruit are bent;
There the. weary time I 've spent."

Robin rover, there, no doubt,
Your best music you poured out;
Piping to a stranger's ear,
You forgot your lovers here.

" Little lady, on my word,
You do wrong a true-heart bird!
Not one ditty would I sing,
'Mong the leaves or on the wing,
In the sun or in the rain;
Stranger's ear would list in vain.
If I ever tried a note,
Something rose within my throat.

'T was because my heart was true
To the North and spring-time new;

My mind's eye a nest could see
In yon old, forked apple-tree "

(NOTE.-It is said that the robin does not sing during its winter stay in the South.)





MR. ATHERTON has been the master of the
Centreville Academy ever since I can remember.
A few months ago, however, he was offered a bet-
ter position in the city, and he decided to leave
Centreville. We were very sorry, for we all liked
him; and now that he has left, it really seems as
if a part of the building itself had been taken away.
We were to have a public examination during
the last two days of his stay, and Florence Grant-
ley had thought of a beautiful project. She always
has good ideas, though I must say they are gener-
ally rather expensive. But then her father is rich,
and I suppose she never has to think twice before
spending a dollar, as some of us are obliged to do.
Her plan was to buy an album, put all our pictures
in it, and present it to Mr. Atherton before the com-
pany, after he had closed the school. The girls
wished me to make the presentation address. Of

course I was enthusiastic about it, and went home
thinking over what I should say and should wear,
and all that. There are fifteen girls in our class,
and Florence said she knew of a lovely album, one
we would n't be ashamed to give him. It would
cost only eleven dollars and twenty-five cents; and
that, you see, would be only seventy-five cents
apiece. I went in to dinner full of the new project,
and began to talk about it at the table.
But Father vetoed it at once. He said he
did n't believe in the idea at all. It would be too
expensive for some of us, and he did not wish to
hear another word about it.
When Father takes that tone, of course there 's
no more to be said. I am too old to cry before
everybody, but I did n't wish any more dinner,
and as soon as possible I went up to my room and
had a good cry.


By Daisy Jones.

Little Miss Mabel,
Brimming with play,
Turned into Grandmamma
All in a day.
"Now, children, you see
How I look," said she,
"And Grandmamma Harris
Looked just.like me.
They always do; it 's the
natural way.
All children take after their
Grandmas, they say."



Mother came upstairs as quickly as she could. I
knew she would. Mother is a born comforter. Oh,
what do girls do who have no mother? She told me
I must remember how hard Father had to work for
every dollar, and that although what he said some-
times sounded harsh, it was only because his busi-
ness troubles made him worry, and it added to them
to have us wish for things he felt he could n't
afford. Dear Mother I wonder if she ever wishes
for things she does n't get.
Then I told Mother all about it; that it was not
merely that one plan, but that I could never join
in any project that came up. All the other girls
had birthday parties and I went, but never gave
one in return. Of course I don't expect that,"
said I, feeling a little conscience-stricken, as I saw
the look on Mother's face. Birthdays are so com-
mon in this family, of course we can't notice them;
but I thought this time we had found something
Father could sympathize with. He so often speaks
-of Mr. Atherton, and the respect he has for him-
but of course that 's all over now. If I can't, I
can't; it does seem hard though never to do as the
others do."
"I know it, child," Mother said, softly touching
my hair. Many things are hard. You are old
enough now to know a little of the life of your el-
ders," she went on; "and you must remember that
it is absolute necessity, and not lack of sympathy,
that forces Papa to say no, as he sometimes does."
"Well, if he would only soften it a little," I
could n't help saying. "A blunt no is a great deal
harder to bear."
"I know, dear," Mother said, with a sigh; "but
Father thinks he does what is best."
But what can I say, Mother. I must let them
know I can't contribute. This very afternoon
they 'II all be talking of it."
"Tell them nothing positively. Say as little as
possible; and give me time to think."
At this, my mind was relieved immediately. I
was sure the trouble would somehow end in just the
right way, though I knew Mother could n't squeeze
the money from the housekeeping allowance, even
if she could think it right to do so after what Father
had said. But I had faith that Mother would man-
age for me, so I went to school,' feeling very con-
fident, and said as little as possible.
That night Mother came to my room and told me
to invite all of my class to spend Thursday evening
with us. You know Grandpa sent us a barrel
of apples," she said, "a bushel of nuts, and some
corn to pop. May be I '11 make a cake or two, and
the coffee will not cost much. Fortunately, we have
dishes enough. That will offset the birthday par-
ties a little, and make you have a good time, too.
If you know any really nice boys, invite them, and

may be Papa '11 get out his violin, and you can have
a little dance."
You see, Mother was a girl herself once. She
does n't forget her feelings, and she talks over such
things with me just as though she were another
girl. Of course I was only too delighted to obey,
but still, I must confess, although it was very
nice, it did n't help me out of the real difficulty a
bit. It gave the girls something fresh to talk about,
however; and as it would be three weeks before
Mr. Atherton would leave, the subject of his
present dropped out of sight for a few days.
But that matter of the boys troubled me a great
deal. We girls are all about fourteen and fifteen,
and really, while we are almost young ladies,
boys at that age are very boyish. They don't
know what to do with their hands, nor how to ask
one to dance, nor to do anything nicely. I mean
the generality of boys; of course my brothers do, but
then they have had Mamma to train them, and sis-
ters to practice with ever since they were little,
which, of course, makes a difference. If it were not
that I hated to give up the dancing, and if it was n't
such a bother to dance with a girl with a handker-
chief tied on her arm-because she keeps forget-
ting she is a boy, and taking the wrong hand and
everything is put out-I should have given up
the idea of asking any boys.
Again I flew to my never-failing refuge in time
of trouble, and Mother drew out her needle slowly
from the stocking she was darning, and began to
consider the matter.
You see, Mother, it is n't a grand affair, but
I want it to be as pleasant a time of its kind as
possible, and a lot of awkward boys would just
spoil it."
Now, don't decry the boys, my dear; they are
a very good institution in their place."
"Yes, indeed, but their place is sliding downhill,
or skating, not in a girls' party trying to be agree.
able; and they have sense enough to know it. You
know yourself how impossible it is to get Joe to go
anywhere with me, and he is a model of politeness,
compared with most of his associates."
"Well, it would n't be quite fair to punish the
boys, and girls, too, in trying to amuse them,"
Mother replied. "There are boys enough who
would be interested in this little gathering of yours.
There are those three lads at the minister's, who
are fitting themselves for college. They are not
more than sixteen years old, and ought not to be
above a little informal party. Besides, Mrs. Grey
told me she wished they knew some people who
would make their stay pleasanter for them. Then
there is young Mr. Adams, at Dr. Preston's, I know
he would come, and his mother wrote me, asking
me to be good to him."





Oh, what a dear mother you are, that puts
the success of the thing beyond doubt 1"
"There are four good names, then, to start
with," said Mother; "and those, with John and
Sam, Father's young friends, will be a good begin-
ning. As for the rest, let the girls themselves
invite them; there's nothing like making people
responsible for the success of a thing."
Well, the next day being Wednesday I took the
class into my confidence, and between us all we
made out a list of gentlemanly and agreeable boy-
friends; but the four that Mother took it upon
herself to invite were the best of all.
Well, every one came; not one of the thirty was
missing. Through all Father's troubles, we had
kept our house, because Mother's father gave it
to her when she married. It was a large old-fash-
ioned house with a wide hall that went right
through it; two sets could dance there and one in
each parlor. When I was tired, Mother took my
place at the piano; and with Father at the violin we
had as good music as one could wish for dancing.
All the girls wore their best dresses but without
finery, and everything went off beautifully. At
eleven we had our simple refreshments. Mother
had cut up a sheet of mottoes and scattered them
among the popped corn, and they made ever so
much fun. When that was over and we were
standing about before beginning anything else,
Father suddenly spoke up, saying that there was
a little matter to which he would like to call atten-
tion; he supposed that the masculine portion of
his audience would hardly be thrilled, but the
girls, he knew, would be deeply interested. Then
he went on to say that there had been some talk
among the young ladies of getting up a surprise
present for their teacher, and that an album had
been spoken of; but he said he had a scheme that
seemed to him much better. Then he brought out
a sheet of Bristol board, beautifully ornamented
with scroll work, and handsomely engrossed upon
it was a set of resolutions saying how sorry we
were that Mr. Atherton was going to leave, how
much we had profited by his stay with us, and
expressing our best wishes for his future. I don't,
of course, give all this in Father's words, but
after he had read the testimonial, he made a capi-
tal, witty speech. Then he called on us all to
sign the testimonial if we approved it. He told
us, too, that he could have the sheet nicely framed
for three dollars, which would involve a cost of

only twenty cents to each subscriber; and he would
venture to say that Mr. Atherton would be even
better pleased with the testimonial proposed than
with something more expensive.
Of course it "took" immediately; all the girls
were delighted and signed it there and then, in their
very best handwriting, and most of them paid their
twenty cents at once. We empowered Father
to have it framed, and they voted that I should
make the presentation. But the fact that Father
had entered into it so well and done so much just
for my pleasure touched me more than all. I knew
that he had given a great deal of attention to orna-
mental penmanship, but I had no idea he could
make so handsome a scroll as that testimonial. I
always knew, of course, that Father loved his chil-
dren. If any of us are sick, he is as tender as a
woman; and he daily makes all manner of sacrifices
for us; but here he showed that he had a great deal
of sympathy with all our hopes and plans.
Of course, with the cake and coffee and every-
thing, the entertainment cost more than my contri-
bution and picture would have done, but it seems
that Mother had been planning for some time to do
something for me which should help me pay my
party obligations, and that was not the only time
when she proved that she has "the happy faculty
of common sense," as Father says.
I do believe my little party was more talked about
than those of many of the other girls, though they
cost many times as much money as did mine.
Well, examination day came, and when I pre-
sented the testimonial to Mr. Atherton, though
I said only a word or two, he could hardly speak at
all, and he told Father afterward that we could n't
have pleased him better. It seems that he had
heard some whispers about a present, and had a
fear that it was going to be something expensive, and
felt troubled about it; for, as he told Father, he
could n't refuse a thing before it was offered him,
and he did n't know what to do; but the testi-
monial he could accept with real pleasure and
You can hardly imagine what a different position
I have occupied in school since that affair. I was
never really unpopular, but I was seldom appealed
to. Now, however, I am consulted about every-
thing, and my opinion has a great deal of weight
with the girls.- But I know where the honor really
belongs, and I always say it is because Father so
well carried out Mother's idea.





wAS just graduated from
college, when I received
a letter from my uncle
Ralph, which surprised me
very much, as I had never
known him except by
name. I had always been
told by my mother that
he was very eccentric, and
certainly the letter was
queer; for it read:
"Nephew Dick (if that 's your
name) :
I want an assistant in my lab-
oratory. I will pay you well.
Answer at once.
I was puzzled what to
say in reply. I had no
profession in view, and did
Isn't like to throw away what
S might be a good chance.
I talked it over with my
mother, and she said she thought it would be
worth trying and could certainly do no harm. So,
not to be outdone in brevity, I answered:
"Dear Uncle Ralph:
"If terms suit, I '1l try.
Your nephew DICK."
I think he was pleased with the answer, for he
received me very cordially, though he did n't say
much. My salary was quickly and satisfactorily
settled, and I took a room near my uncle's house
and began my work.
At first I had so much to learn that I could n't
have earned my salt; but before very long I began
to see my way clearly, and I really think I made
myself useful-- still I could not be sure.
Strangely enough, I never could tell what my
uncle was trying to accomplish. I made many
mixtures of chemicals, prepared all sorts of appa-
ratus, but was never allowed to see what my uncle
was about. Whenever I had prepared any mate-
rials, he would carry them off into a little private
room of which he always kept the key upon
his watch-chain. No one was allowed to enter
this room, and I soon learned that it was wisest to
say nothing concerning it. Not being inquisitive,
I did not pry into the mystery, but did whatever I
was told to do, without asking any questions.
As time went on, I could see that my uncle was

becoming very nervous and irritable over his work.
Always a silent man, he now seldom spoke a
One day he sent me to buy him some chem-
icals, giving me a list which he had written out for
me. Upon examining the list I found that the ar-
ticles would make a large package, so I picked up
my little traveling-bag and started out.
Some of the substances required were rare, and
I was obliged to ask at a number of places before
I succeeded in finding them; and it was dusk when
I reached the house.
I heard my uncle calling me as I came in, and
found him very impatient.
Did you get them all? he asked, as soon as
he saw me.
"Yes; after some trouble," I replied.
Where are they?" he inquired.
Here," I said, and I handed him the bag.
He took it without a word, and immediately
retired into his private room.
During his absence, I busied myself in the labor-
atory in putting everything in order. I worked
away for a long while how long I can not exactly
tell-when suddenly I heard an explosion in my
uncle's little room, followed by a cry.
I rushed to the door and knocked.
"What is it? he growled.
"What is the matter ?" I cried.
"Nothing! Don't be foolish! said my uncle.
"Nothing can hurt me "
I went back to the laboratory, and, having
nothing further to do, sat down to wait for his
Again came the explosion, followed by the same
I started up and, before I thought, I cried aloud,
"You 're not hurt, are you ?"
The door opened suddenly, and my uncle came
out, looking very much excited.
"Dick!" said he, "go home. Here is your
bag. I shan't need your help to-night."
I took what I thought was my bag, and went
home to my room.
When I lighted my student-lamp I saw that,
instead of my traveling-bag, my uncle had given
me an old, dusty, wrinkled and battered leather
satchel, which looked as though it might be a cent-
ury old.
I laughed, and tried to open it. It was locked.
After puzzling over the lock until I was tired, I




opened my closet door and flung the satchel upon
the highest shelf.
"To-morrow," said I, I '11 exchange it for my
own bag."
I am afraid Uncle Ralph's treatment was be-
ginning to affect my temper. I did n't like the
way he had treated me that night. Then he
had n't paid me my salary for a long time, and my
bills were coming in faster than I could pay them.
It is very discouraging to do other men's work,
especially when you are not allowed to see the
results of your labor; and I had worked some
months without a single hint of what I was
about. I began to believe I had made a mistake.
What good would it do me to work away in the
dark, learning little or nothing, and without hope
of doing better? My uncle would tell me nothing,
and was provoked by being even questioned.
I became very much discouraged over my pros-
pects, and wondered whether I ought not to confess
I had made a mistake, and to begin the study of
some regular profession.
How long I sat thinking, I can not tell; but I
was aroused by the faint flicker of my fire as it
went out, leaving me in perfect darkness.
As I groped about my room, looking for
matches, I heard a rustling which seemed to come
from the other side of the room. Then came tiny
knocking, irregularly, and muffled shouting, as
though far away.
By listening more intently I heard the sounds
plainly enough to distinguish the squeaking of
mice and could I be mistaken ? a scream; very
faint, it is true, but still a scream of fright.
"Ah !" said I to myself, "there must be mice
in the closet! But what can the scream be? "
I went to the closet, and, opening the door, was
amazed to see that the upper part was faintly
lighted, as though by a big fire-fly. Puzzled at
this, I brought a chair, and, climbing, upon it,
saw-a grand battle. Upon one end of the shelf
was a flying host of mice. How they scurried away !
Some jumped to the floor; some seemed to merely
vanish, and they were gone !
While smiling at their panic, what was my sur-
prise to hear from the other end of the shelf some
one addressing me in a piping, little voice.
Eh ? I exclaimed; did any one speak ?"
I had the honor !" the voice replied.
Turning, I saw upon the shelf a diminutive figure
carrying a little lantern in one hand, and some-
thing like a needle in the other.
Before I could recover from my astonishment, and
not before I had been asked sarcastically whether I
should know him the next time we met, the little
man went on:
This is a pretty way to treat me,- is n't it ?"

What in the world-what can this mean?" I
blundered out.
"Well! I like that," replied the pigmy in a
scornful tone; "asking what this can mean, after
having kept me shut up in that old leather satchel
for over two thousand years Why, I should have
been starved before long; my provisions were
almost gone, I can tell you! Perhaps you think

.:::' ''.

I 'm not hungry now ? Oh, no! of course not!-
and you want to know what this means?"
Here he burst out laughing so loudly that I
plainly heard it.
I should be glad to do anything in my power
to aid you," I began, wishing to do my best to
pacify the little fellow; "but as for having kept
you shut up for twenty centuries, why, my dear
fellow, that's simply absurd, for I am only twenty-
three years old now!"
"Oh, see here," he answered scornfully, "that's
a little more than I can stand! You've played
the innocent game long enough; you can't fool
me that way again. Why, I suppose you will
deny that your name is Trancastro, next ?" and he
hopped up and down in a rage.
"Tran- which? Tran-- wat?" I began.
That's right, that's right!" cried the little imp
in a perfect fury. "Go on-deny everything!"
See here !" I cried, now out of patience with
his whims, "I don't know anything about you
or your Tran-what-you-may-call-him, and if you
had n't kicked up such a racket in my closet I



never would have come near you!-I wish I
had n't, and then the mice would have finished
you-and a good riddance "
As I paused for breath the little man held his
lantern as near my face as possible, and after a
long, earnest look, said with great gravity and
I think I must have made a mistake !"
Then, turning suddenly, he gave a great skip and
shouted out, "And then--I am free !"
Certainly you are, so far as I am concerned,"
I replied carelessly; "but I can't imagine what all
this fuss is about. So long as you are pleased, I
suppose I must be satisfied."
Meanwhile he had continued to jump and whirl
about, until he dropped his lantern and it went
out, leaving us in the dark. Then he calmed down
enough to say, What can you know about it?
You only twenty-three years old! He chuckled
as though this were a great joke at my expense,
and went on, "If you will offer me a chair and
something to eat, I 'll tell you the whole story."
So I stepped down from the chair, lighted my
student-lamp, and offered my little guest my hand.
Into ithe climbed, and I deposited him upon the table
under the light, where I could see him plainly.
He was about six inches in height and dressed
in what seemed to be mouse-skin. He wore a little
belt and a helmet the size of a thimble. His face
was unwrinkled, but intelligent enough for any age.
Seeing he was unwilling to be stared at, I broke
the silence by saying, I am sorry I can not offer
you a chair-but mine are too large, I am afraid."
I feared he might be hurt by the hint.
"Not at all! he replied politely, now that
he had convinced himself I was not that awful
Tran-somebody, "see here "
He beckoned to my favorite easy-chair. At
once it rose gently into the air, and, dwindling
down to a size suitable for the little wretch, dropped
softly down upon the table beside him.
Ignoring my exclamations, he seated himself
comfortably within it, and, looking up at me, said,
as though nothing had happened, I said I would
tell you all about it, did n't I?"
Yes," I answered, leaning eagerly forward.
Well, I '11 not said he bluntly.
"You '11 not ? and why not ? I asked.
"Oh," said he, calmly crossing his little legs,
" you could n't understand it."
"Perhaps I could," I replied, smiling indul-
gently. Just try me."
"Do you know what dnax is?" he asked, ap-
parently hoping that I might
"No, I can't say I do-exactly," I confessed
Then of course you could n't understand it -

for that's the very beginning of it! But no matter.
Let 's change the subject. Is there anything I can
do for you in return for your hospitality to a hun-
gry guest ?"
"I beg your pardon-I quite forgot," and I
rang the bell.
When the servant came, I ordered supper for
two. This strange order caused the servant to
gape in silent astonishment. I repeated the order,
however, and she hurried away without asking
any questions. Returning, she placed the supper
upon the table, without seeing the frantic retreat
of the little man as she approached the table with
the heavy tray.
"What an awkward blockhead "exclaimed the

, :. i'
111 01 iii I ' 1

h 1 .1
' "-.. ii' .

-= -


angry little fellow. I made no answer, being puz-
zled over the proper way to ask my small friend to
eat with a knife and fork larger than himself.
But, as I hesitated, the mysterious beckoning
process again took place, and one-half the con-
tents of the tray diminished to a size convenient
for his use. He ate almost greedily, like a starving
man. I watched him in silent wonder until he
seemed to be satisfied.
Then, pushing back his chair, he said gratefully:
"A very nice supper I should like to return
your kindness in some way. You little know what
a service you have done me in releasing me from
that cruel Trancast-"
Here he broke off suddenly and remained in a



brown study. He seemed so melancholy that I in-
terrupted his thoughts by asking:
"And what could you do for me ?" He bright-
ened up again as I spoke, and answered:
Who can tell? What are your troubles ?"
Well," said I thoughtfully, I have n't many.
But I should like the advice of some one older and
wiser than I am."
I shall not say how wise I may be," said the
little man soberly; "but perhaps, having lived forty
centuries, I may be old enough to advise a young
man of twenty-three."
I looked up, expecting to see him smiling, but
he was as sober as a judge. So I told him all
about my uncle and my work, and concluded
by asking him what he thought I ought to do.
He seemed intensely interested, and remained
silent some moments after I had finished. I waited
more anxiously for his opinion than I should have
liked to admit.
At length he said solemnly, Bring your uncle
to me i "
"Bring-- I repeated, in amazement, "bring
Bring your uncle to me he repeated firmly,
and so solemnly that I never thought of resisting.
Oh, very well," I said hastily; "but how in
the world am I to do it ?"
Easily enough he explained; "write him a
note "
But what shall I say ? I asked helplessly.
"You said he was interested in chemistry?"
asked the strange little fellow.
I believe he cares for nothing else," I replied.
"Very well. Now write this: 'I have made a
discovery to-night such as you never dreamed of.
Come at once 1' That will bring him," said my
Why I was so easily bullied by the manikin I can
not tell; but I wrote the note and sent it at once.
Now," resumed my little guest, "what else
can I do for you ?"
"Nothing," I replied, laughing; "unless you
will pay my bills for me "
"With pleasure," he answered gravely; "let
me see them."
I brought the bills, and he went over them very
"Hm-hm-very good!" he said, when he
had finished his examination. "You have not been
very extravagant. I '11 reduce them for you "
He began beckoning, as he had beckoned to
the chair and the tea-tray, and I smiled, expecting
to see the papers grow smaller and smaller. But
when he stopped I could see no change, although
he seated himself as though well satisfied. As
he said nothing, I finally ventured to say:

Well! "
"Well," he replied; look at your bills "
I picked them up and was astonished to see that
the amounts had dwindled from dollars to cents,
until each bill was for only a hundredth part of
what it had been.
"But that is nonsense!" I said, looking up
angrily. "I'm not a baby! What good will
that do ?"
"You 're only twenty-three," he said, doubt-
fully; and smiling as a knock was heard at the
door, he made me a sign to open it.
I did so, and there stood my tailor, Mr. Mewlett.
I frowned, for I owed him more than a hundred
dollars. But he smiled politely, saying, "Could
you oblige me with that dollar or two you owe me ?
I need a little change to-night."
I stared at him in wonder; but, thinking it wise
to ask no questions, I took his bill from the pile
on the table and handed it to him.
He read it aloud: "One dollar and fourteen
I counted out the money. He receipted the bill
and left me, seeming perfectly contented.
I dropped into a chair, too much puzzled to say
a word.
Just then the door banged open wide, and in
came my uncle, puffing and blowing with the
exertion of climbing the stairs.
"Well, on what fool's errand have you brought
me here--" he began; but suddenly I heard a
shriek from the pigmy on the table. As I turned,
he began beckoning-beckoning-beckoning, as
if he were frantic.
I turned to look at my uncle.
He was gone.
Then I turned again to the little man on the
table- What a sight met my eyes !
There stood upon the table the miniature image
of my uncle, staring with wide-open eyes at the
little figure of my guest.
For a moment they glared at each other-and
then, before I could interfere, they were fighting
for their lives.
It was over in a second.
My uncle was too old and feeble to be a match
for the wiry little warrior in leather.
As they separated, my uncle seemed to be
wounded, for he staggered an instant, and then
fell backward, staining the cloth like an overturned
bottle of red ink.
"You scoundrel!" I cried, starting forward in
anger; "what have you done ?"
For a moment the little fellow had no breath
to answer. He panted helplessly, and at length
gasped out:
"It is -but -justice It is Trancastro! "





"Trancastro!" I exclaimed- "that was my
uncle! Explain I can not understand! "'
Do you know what dnax is ?" he asked, as he
wiped his sword on a napkin.
No !" I shouted.
"Then you could n't understand," he said,
mournfully shaking his head.
Enraged by his answer, I rushed for the table;
but, before I could reach them, my uncle struggled
to his feet and resumed the conflict, using his
umbrella most valiantly. I paused a moment,

hoping he might yet conquer-but the fight was
too unequal. By a skillful twist of his opponent's
wrist my uncle's umbrella was sent flying out of
his hand. Being disarmed, he sank upon one
knee and begged for mercy.
"Trancastro!" cried the victor, "you deserve
no better fate than the cruel death you meant
for me! "
"Oh, have mercy!" cried my uncle.
I could not stand this. The honor of the family
forbade me to remain neutral. I rushed to the
table, crying, Here here this has gone quite
far enough!"
Again the beckoning! I became in a moment
a third pigmy upon my own table!
"Now," exclaimed the triumphant warrior, "we
are upon equal terms! Come on!"
I had no weapon. I dared not interfere. While
I stood hesitating, the little tyrant made a slip-
knot from one of my curtain-cords, threw the noose
over my uncle's neck, and rose into the air, dragging
his victim after him. I heard a breaking of glass,
and, regaining my natural size in a moment, rushed
to the window only to sec them flying away !
All that remained to convince me that I could
not be mistaken was the stain upon the cloth, the
little arm-chair, and the miniature supper. I
searched the room, but found nothing.
Until now I have never told the story- for who
would have believed it? But any one who believes
my story, and would like to see what remains of
Trancastro and his victim, has only to open the
battered little satchel, and there can still be seen
the little chair, the little knife and fork, and all the
relics left by my guest. No unbeliever shall ever
see them.







You would hardly believe it possible that there
are so many alphabets in the world which seem
to have nothing to do with one another -neither
coming one from another by borrowing, nor de-
scending, apparently, from the same alphabet
thousands of years ago. The numbers of exist-
ing nations and of men to-day are as nothing com-
pared with those that have perished. So the
number of existing alphabets and syllabaries are
but as a handful compared to those that have
passed away and left no trace whatever. Writings
on paper and bark can remain only as long as the
paper and bark hold together; even in Egypt,
where, owing to the dryness of the climate, paper
lasts longer than elsewhere, it can last only a
few thousand years. Nations that once for long
periods possessed writings are now completely
unknown, and with them their alphabets also
have perished, because no record of their exist-
ence was left on rock, brick, or pottery. What
looks, therefore, like an abundance of material by
which to read the life of alphabets is really very
little compared to what we ought to have.
You remember how nations like the Phcenicians,
when adopting a new series of letters, name these
letters according to their own fancy, just as we
sometimes teach children their alphabet by saying,
"A was an Archer" (or we may prefer to have
A stand for an Apple, or some other word be-
ginning with A); and "B was a Butcher," or
" a Bear," or some other word beginning with B.
There is no doubt that both the Romans and the
Greeks had lists of words useful to remind children
of their letters. Now, our alphabet came directly
to us from the Irish missionaries and professors of
religion and wisdom, who taught Christianity to
the heathen Angles, Saxons, Jutes, Goths, Ger-
mans, Danes, and Swedes, several centuries after
the death of our Lord. They did not learn from
the Phoenicians, although they have traditions that
seem to point to settlers in Ireland bearing a sim-
ilar name. Instead of using the Latin names for
the letters taken from the Christian Romans, they
gave them names of their own. Their wise and
pious men had been members of, or were the
pupils of, a class of learned heathens called the
Druids. In ancient Ireland, a drui was prophet,
priest, doctor, and magician, and the name seems
to be connected with our word tree. It was against

the rule of the Druids to write things down. They
were in the habit of retiring to the deepest woods
for meditation and study, sometimes attended by
pupils. That is probably the reason why the Irish,
among whom the Druids retained their power the
longest,-because Ireland was the hardest to reach
of all the great islands thereabouts, and the last
to feel the changes taking place elsewhere in
Europe,-chose this pretty system of naming the
letters of the Latin alphabet when it became com-
mon. Instead of calling A, alf a, as the Latins
usually did, they said A, ailm, the word which
stood in their language for palm-tree and came,
in sound, nearest to alpha, and began with an
A. Instead of beta they said beith, the word for
birch-tree, almost the same in sound as the Phoe-
nician, but quite different in meaning. And so with
the other letters: Coll, hazel; duiir, oak; eadha,
aspen; fearan, alder; gort, ivy; iatlhi, white-
thorn; iogha, yew; luis, mountain-ash; muin,
vine; nuin, ash; oir, broom; feith, dwarf-elder;
suil, willow; teine, furze; ur, heath. They called
this alphabet bethluisnion, choosing out the letters
B, L, and N, instead of the letters A and B, to
form a name. Another term, more nearly like the
word alphabet, was aibcitie, or A-B-C order, the
syllable tie meaning order, or sequence. Living
in wooden houses, in lands mostly covered with
trees, the people of Ireland were specially fond
of plants, and so named their letters from plants
alone. Such a method may possibly point to an
early syllabic system among these races, founded
on pictures of trees and plants, on leaves, on hunt-
ing-tools, and things connected with woodcraft;
but at present we can only make this guess. It is
very unlikely that so early and rude a writing
would be placed on stone or metal, and so come
down to us. The Egyptians used trees or plants
but seldom, either in their symbolic or alphabetic
hieroglyphics. Our S alone, of the letters, comes
from a little picture of growing plants, which
is supposed to represent a garden overflowed by
the Nile. Egypt was peculiarly wanting in forests.
Population was dense and animals abounded.
On the other hand, a partiality for trees is found
in all the Celtic tribes. The intense love of
nature shown in the modern literature of Ger-
many, France, and Italy, of Great Britain and the
United States, may be traced to the Highland
Scotch, and from this may be derived the still
more modern passion for pictures of landscape.



Small The clans of Scot-
Capftak. letters. Name. Etglish. land, blood rela-
S -e tions and descend-
Ailm. a ants of the Irish,
chose for emblems,
b 6 Beith. b or "badges," either
a plant or its flower.
Thus, the MacKays
c Coll. c chose the bulrush.
The general badge
for Irishmen, as you
S 0 Duir. d know, is a little
plant like the sor-
e Eadha. e rel, called the sham-
rock; while that for
Fearan. f Scotland is, appro-
S privately enough,
the hardy, prickly,
Gort. g but not unbeautiful
thistle. The Eng-
SHuath. h lish, too, show
S th traces of the same
idea; their race-
logha. i badge is the rose,
a foreign plant,
perhaps because
SLuis. 1 they were more
thoroughly subju-
1 gated by the Nor-
S Muin. m mans than were the
Scotch and Irish;
perhaps because
SNuin. n their land is like a
rose-garden for cul-
0 Oir. o tivation. Now,
some Irishmen have
claimed that the
SPeith. p Phoenicians made
settlements in Ire-
Sland many centu-
Ruis. r ries before Christ.
If they ever taught
SSuil. s their alphabet to
the tribes of that
island, it has been
( Teine. t crowded out by oth-
ers, or has fallen
Into disuse. Some
u Ur. u kind of writing had
OLD IRISH ALPHABET. existed before the
Christians introduced the betkluisnion; there is
hardly a doubt that altered Greek letters, known
as Runes, were used in Ireland; but with the
exception of the mysterious Oghans, which will be
noticed further on, none are to be found; for, just
as nations have been struggling with nations from
the earliest period to which we can look back, and

forms of government with other forms, and lan-
guages with languages, so systems of writing have
been struggling with systems of writing. Sooner
or later the best, that is to say, the most convenient,
alphabet wins the day. Within a few centuries,
the rounded and perfected form of the Christian
alphabet has taken the place of the old Irish
alphabet, which was itself an earlier form of the
very same Christian letters.
You have traced your letters back through the
Irish missionaries to the Christians of Rome; but
how did they come to Rome ? You must know that
among the great and renowned cities founded by
the Phcenicians in Greece was Chalkis, a town in
the island of Euboea. This island is close to the
mainland of Greece, and its inhabitants are called
Boeotians. Now the Athenians, who considered
themselves very smart people, used to make all
manner of fun about the stupidity of the Boeotians.
But just why the Boeotians were thought very
stupid folk, unless through jealousy or rivalry, I
do not see, for one of the greatest poets of the
world, called Pindar, was a Boeotian, and many
famous generals, artists, architects, painters, and
writers came from the ranks of this so-called
stupid folk. And for all the fun they liked to make
of these island people, the rest of Greece, includ-
ing Athens, very likely had to come to the Boeo-
tians for the alphabet. But you are not to sup-
pose that the Phoenicians came to Eubcea in the
flourishing days of Athens, when the marvelous
sculptors lived. It was long before. And the
Latins of Italy, in their turn, took their letters
from the Greek-Phcenicians of Chalkis long, long
before Rome became a famous town. And it was
because of great wars and the attacks of Asiatic
nations that the people who had the best alphabet
came to Europe at all.
The Phoenicians were driven out of Asia Minor
by the armies of other nations, which, under dif-
ferent names, are mentioned in the Bible, and per-
haps among these were the Jews, in whose language
the Bible has come down to us. It is more than
probable that the ambition of great nations still
farther to the eastward, drove the nearer nations
of Syria upon the Phoenicians, who held the sea-
coast. But there was another inducement. The
Phoenicians became very rich from their trading
voyages; and also, I fear, from their plundering
and kidnapping of slaves, for the Mediterranean
was the haunt of buccaneers until the Romans
frightened pirates into some kind of peaceableness.
Even in this century it was necessary for the United
States to send a fleet against the pirates that sailed
from ports in Northern Africa. The riches of the
Phoenician towns must have tempted the neighbor-
ing tribes to attack them. At any rate, having al-




ready made many settlements elsewhere, the Phoe-
nicians began to give way more than a thousand
years B. C., and to take refuge in their old or new
colonies. Some old Greek traditions tell how Kad-
mus, a mighty leader and a very wise man in all the
arts and sciences, came over from Asia and taught
the Bceotians letters. In Phoenician the word Kad-
mus means the East-man, while the word Europe,
which gradually was applied to a vast extent of land,
a continent, at first belonged only to the land just
across from the island of Euboea, on the other side
of the narrow strait called Euripus, and means,
in Phoenician, the West-land. So when you read
of Kadmus coming to Europe it is the East-
man coming to the Westland. Over and over
again in history we find names to which all
sorts of fanciful derivations have been given, and
beautiful legends and myths have been attached,
turning out to be the simplest kind of words. Thus,
Ireland also means the Westland, and it comes
from the Celtic word iar and our word land; iar
meaning the West. Iar, before being used to
denote the West, meant the back, and that fact lets
us into an important secret concerning the religion
of the Celts who first came over the Irish sea to
the Emerald Island. It tells us that those early
men named the points of the compass according
to the other directions when the observer faced
toward the East. So the East was named from
front, or forward, the West from back or behind,
the North from left hand, and the South from
right hand. That means that the early Celts
worshiped the Dawn and the Sunrise. And so
faithfully have the old traditions remained in men's
minds in that big western island of the British
Empire that, to this day, the emblem on the coat
of arms of Ireland is a sunburst, or rising sun.
Another curious thing is that it is more than
probable that the Irish preference of the color
green, for their flag and their sashes, arose from
a mistake among those who had lost a thorough
knowledge of the old Irish language. The sun, in
Irish, is called by a word pronounced like our word
green"; and it is likely that the Irish fondness
for that color arose from the word's exact likeness
in sound to their word for the sun. In the same

way, when we talk about greenhouses, we think
they are called so because the plants are kept green
in them during winter. Yet it is far more probable
that green," here, is the Irish word meaning, not
the color, but the sun; because greenhouses are
built so as to catch the sun's rays and store them
up while it is hidden by clouds, as happens more
than half the time in showery Ireland.
But to return to Kadmus, the man, or the repre-
sentation of the men, who to the ancient Greeks
seemed to come out of the East. There was in
Greece an ancient people whom men called the
Pelasgi, or sea-people, because they seemed to live
on the sea, so easy and so much at home were they
on board their long black ships. Moreover,
" sea-people was a ready enough name for those
who dwelt so much on islands. This Pelasgian
folk at one time conquered the half of Egypt with
their fleets, and with the aid of other nations. Now,
when in the course of centuries, the Greeks had
learned a great many things besides masonry and
seacraft from the Pelasgians, and letters and sea-
manship from the Phcenicians,-they too, like the
Syrian nations, began to push the people who
had been their teachers out of their islands
and towns. Doubtless the Phonicians were very
arrogant and imperious people, who fancied that
their riches made them the superiors of all poorer
folk, and that justice only existed for the rich.
By that time they had made many flourishing
settlements in Italy, Spain, and Northern Africa,
and they became famous for the last time in their
towns of Northern Africa, where they left numer-
ous different alphabets. Finally the Romans,
jealous of their commerce and wealth, managed
to ruin their navies, defeat their armies, and sack
and destroy their cities, among which the greatest
was Carthage, meaning, in Phoenician, New Town.
Some day, if you have not yet studied it, you can
learn in Roman history all about the Roman de-
struction of Carthage and the time of the Punic
wars. When those wars occurred, the Carthagin-
ians were making a last effort to remain masters
of the western parts of what are now called Europe
and Africa, then the most western portion of the
civilized world.




BY C. F. H.

"PAY his fare in, please, Mister !"
The speaker was a ragged little urchin, with a
bright, jolly face, who stood at the entrance of a
base-ball ground. By his side sat a great black
poodle. The dog looked up at me with such a
solemn and woe-begone expression that I laughed
outright, whereupon the boy took courage and re-
peated his request: Pass him in, Mister; it 's
only a dime. We 're under age."
Do you mean the dog? I asked.
"Yes," was the reply. "He 's a base-baller.
He has n't missed a game this season; and," the
boy continued earnestly, I would n't have him
miss one, either. But, you see, Mother's rent 's
due to-day, so we 've no extra cash,-have we,
Major ?" And the big poodle wagged its tail
and showed its teeth in a broad dog-laugh.
It certainly was the most remarkable-looking
poodle I had ever seen. It was a pure black, with
the back part of its body shaved to the skin except
where, on the top, the hair had been left in the
shape of an anchor. A tuft only was left at the
end of the tail; the feet had bracelets or anklets
of hair, and as the dog's head and chest were not
clipped it looked like a lion from the front; but
from the side it was the most comical-looking
object you can possibly imagine, while in looking
down upon it, the symbol of hope was always pre-
sented; and this anchor, as I learned afterward,
was emblematical of the Major's chief characteristic.
"What 're the chances, Mister?" asked his owner,
after I had examined the dog for a few moments.
I think they are good," I replied. But why
do you wish him to go in? Does he belong to
either nine ?"
No, he does n't," responded my new acquaint-
ance; "but," confidentially, "he 's left-field in
the 'Lincolns,' and if you knew how badly he 'd
feel to miss this game, you 'd pass him in."
Can he play ? I inquired in an incredulous
Can he play?" the youngster retorted indig-
nantly, adding, Can you, Major ? as he turned
to the dog. The animal showed all its teeth, and
cast up its solemn eyes, saying "yes," as plainly
as possible.
"You just come with me a minute, Mister," con-
tinued the small speaker; and leading me around

the corner, away from the crowd, he drew a well-
worn base-ball from a dilapidated pocket, and
tossed it to me. "He does best at a fly-catch,"
he remarked; "and when I say he's left-field of
bur nine, it's as much as to say he is n't a muffer."
Curious to see what the dog would do, I tossed
the ball at him, and it landed fair in his capacious
mouth, and was held there.
"That's not what he wants, Mister," said
Major's young master. "Throw it up high, -
just as high as you can."
I drew back my arm and looked up; and on the
instant Major had become like another dog. His
ears stood up, his eyes flashed, and the hairy em-
blem of hope seemed to wriggle like a snake as he
danced backward, barking in loud, jubilant tones.
This time I threw the ball as high as I could. Up
it went, so high, in fact, that I doubt if I could
have caught it myself, as it is some years since I
severed my connection with a base-ball nine. But
the moment it left my hand, Major seemed to
know where it was going to fall; he watched it
for a second, then ran back about twenty feet, and
as it turned in the air, he was directly under it.
Down it came, right over the dog, which stood
with legs braced apart, and tail wagging slowly;
then a red mouth opened, a row of white teeth
glistened and-- Major had caught the ball! A
few seconds later he delivered it to me, with a wag
of his tail that said plainly, "You're out, Mister."
So good a player certainly deserved to see the
game, and we were soon within the high fence. At
once Major took up his stand behind the scorer,
and watched the game with the greatest gravity,
occasionally, when a heavy strike was made, run-
ning out, as if to see who caught it, and uttering a
single bark of satisfaction. Everybody seemed to
know him, and had a friendly pat or word for him;
in fact, it was evident that the dog was one of the
base-ball fraternity.
When the game broke up, Major's master
invited me to be present at a match-game of
the "Lincolns," on the ensuing Saturday. The
rival nines were made up of boys under thirteen,
black and white, and Major. As I reached the
ground, it was his inning, and his master, who
claimed the privilege of striking for him, was at
the bat. The dog was right behind with one paw
in advance, and his eyes on the striker. In came
the twisters, and Major made several false starts;
but, finally, as the ball went scudding from the
bat, off he rushed for first base, his ears flapping,
his plumelike tail out straight behind. But the




short-stop was too nimble for the dog, and just
before he reached the base, the ball arrived there,
and he came slowly back, his tail hanging low,
and a very mournful expression in his great eyes.
Maje 's out,-side out!" cried the boys, and
immediately conceiving a method by which he
could retrieve this disaster, the dog seemed to
regain his spirits, dashed into the field, and was

jectile seemed to fit; then, with tail wagging, he
would hasten to carry the ball to the next player.
He was equally proficient with low balls, either
catching them in his mouth or stopping them with
his broad chest, and in fielding he could not be out-
done. When he caught a ball, he carried it at full
speed to the nearest thrower, and not a few players
were put out by his quick motions and activity.

speedily in his position as left-fielder, before any
of the others had reached their places.
In the preliminary pass around that preceded
the play, Major was not left out, and I saw that the
balls that were thrown at him directly were quite
as swift as those delivered from base to base; and
in justice to him, I never saw him "muff." When a
ball was thrown at him, he settled back, and
dropped his great lower jaw, into which the pro-
VOL. XIII.-40.




- _. ,- ,

. ...... ... -,D DOG MAKES A GOOD LEFT-
EBL .: rH'I I r.: .rrangest part of it all was
the delight and pleasure that Major took in
the game. He showed it in every motion,
speaking with his tail as well as his eyes and
mouth, and I doubt if any of the boys had a
greater interest in the sport.
Major's accomplishments were not confined
S to base-ball playing. He could perform nu-
merous tricks, and understood, or pretended
to understand, everything that was said; and
if the gentleman in London who is so indus-
triously endeavoring to teach dogs to talk,
could only borrow Major, he might achieve
Major would take a ten-cent piece to the baker,
and bring home a loaf of bread, and no such tricks
as giving him the wrong change or a bogus loaf
could be successfully played upon him by the neigh-
bors. I was told that one day when given a counter-
feit quarter, Major gravely bit it, smiled a contemp-
tuous smile, and wagged his head in disapproval;
but this I will not vouch for. He did so many

- - : _ *-
C -.-




wonderful things, however, that one would hardly
be surprised at any feat attributed to him.
How came you to clip him in such a fashion ?"
I asked of his master.
"Because he's so hopeful," answered my new
acquaintance. "When we first came to town we
were very, very poor. We're not so very rich now,"
he added, confidentially; "but in those times
we had only a dollar or two at a time, for all of us,
and Mother used to sit and cry, and you 'd have
thought there was n't any hope for us. But Major
was never discouraged. Whenever Mother began
to cry, he'd walk up to her, and laugh, and show
his teeth, and then she 'd almost always look up
and put her arms around his neck and say, 'Maje,
you r'e trying' to cheer us up; you 're doing your
best; I know you are;" and it seemed to make
us all hopeful-like. And he had n't anything to
be cheerful for, either. One day we were at our
worst; there was n't anything in the house; and
cold! You would n't believe how cold it was,
Mister Maje had run out, and Mother was in the
big chair, and I was ready to cry, because she looked
so solemn; when there came a scratchin'at the door
-and what d 'ye s'pose? I pulled it open, and
there was Maje with a basket in his mouth and a
bundle tied on his back, and I never saw him more
cheerful and hopeful in my life. Well, Mother
broke out cryin', just at the time she ought to ha'
been laughing and she put her arms 'round Maje's
neck. There was meat and cake and ever so much
more in the basket, and it kept us from starvin'.
"Where did he get them ? Why, that's the cur'-
ous part of it. We never could find itoutfrom Maje;
but there was a paper in the basket sayin': 'From a
Friend.' But how Maje came to be acquainted with
him just at that time, I don't see-do you, Mister?"

It often happens that dogs of no special breed,
poor outcasts of the canine family, show the most
remarkable characteristics.
A fire company in New York had for years a
dog that was as faithful in its duties as any of the
men, and on several occasions it called the attention
of patrolmen to places where fires were smoldering.
A certain drayman in the same city had a dog that
spent its time upon the horse's back, and seemed
to delight in exhibiting its equestrian skill. I have
often seen the dray going down Broadway, the dog
on the horse's back but keeping his place with diffi-
culty when the horse moved rapidly.


BY C. F. H.

A FRIEND of mine who lived in the Sierra Madre
Mountains had a collie that was an inveterate tree-

..o .,-> ,. ,,,_
_*. .; _'!x .


,.,- i



Srough bark, was quickly mounted by the collie.

This curious habit was the result of his passion
for squirrel-hunting, and woe to the momesquirt one of thosat climbed up
little animals would dart up a favorable tree, Jackight
trees after it, scrambling up so high that e that
often found by his master thirty or forty fees, and hadfrom
the grough bark, ngas quickly mounted by the squirrel, which
This curious habit was the result of his passion
for squirrel-hunting, and the moment one of those
little animals would dart up a favorable tree, Jack
was after it, scrambling up so high that he was
often found by his master thirty or forty feet from
the ground, barking fiercely at the squirrel, which
had sought refuge on a limb beyond the reach of
the dog. In returning, Jack would settle close to
the tree-trunk, and back down, inch by inch, exer-
cising great precaution, well knowing that with his
short claws he was at a disadvantage. When within
a few feet of the bottom he would slide and scram-
ble to the ground.



I ONCE knew a dog, and he had earned his
good name honestly. He was so genuine a sea-
dog that he had been named Surf, and there was
not a better sailor on the Maine island where he
lived. Surf khew nearly all the islanders, and they
knew him. Whenever he met any of them, he




wagged his tail genially. It was his mode of say-
ing good morning, or how-d'ye-do; and the peo-
ple would always return his friendly greeting.
There 's an old saying, that It 's better to have
the good-will than the ill-will of a dog." There
were a few boys whom Surf snarled at, and you may
rest assured that they were very
rough, mean boys. The best young
fellows thought Surf a fine com-
rade, with whom they could enjoy
a romp almost as well as if he were
schoolmate. If his master or any
of the family were going out in a --
boat, Surf was the first on board; -- -
and taking his place in the extreme -
bow, he saluted every one within
hailing distance. No matter how
hard it blew, or how blinding the -
spray, he maintained his place, --
vigilant and fearless. Thus he
came to be the best-known and
most popular dog on the island.
Everybody had a smile for him;
everybody had a good word for
him. Many boys who go to school
and can read and write are not so
true and kind as was Surf.
So abounding in good nature
was Surf that he made friends
even of the people who passed
by the island, and many passed
,every day. The channel followed
by steamers was not far distant
from the point on which his master,
Mr. Andrews, lived. When a boat
was nearly opposite this point
Surf went down to the water's edge and barked,
not in a spiteful, malicious way, but in cheery tones,
as if calling out "How are you, old fellow! The
spirit in which anything is done is soon known,
and the pilots of the steamboats began to answer
his barking with the steam whistle. At this, Surf
would wag his tail as if the proper courtesies had
been exchanged, and return quietly to the house.
So it came about that captains and crews and not
a few of the passengers expected a salutation from
Surf, whenever the boat neared the point.
Surf was not spoiled, however, by his popular-
ity. He put on no airs whatever, and was just as
ready to play with little Bob Andrews, and follow
him about, as he was to pass the time of day,"
after his fashion, with the captain of a steamer, or
the richest man on the island. Bob was a reckless
little mortal, and Surf appeared to have the im-
pression that the boy needed looking after. Like
many people who live by the sea, the Andrews fam-
ily had the feeling that they could never be drowned,

and no one was more venturesome than Bob in
clambering over the rocks about the ocean's edge.
One day, however, he ventured too far and too
carelessly, for he fell with a splash into deep
water. The little fellow could not swim, and his
bubbling cry for help could scarcely have been

^^,^. 2-^ -
. ...,, - _
_-- _-r = -- --. -, .. .



heard on the rock from which he fell, so loud
was the noise of the dashing waves. Surf's tail
became rigid with the stress of the emergency;
then over the rock he went after his playmate.
Seizing the boy by the coat-collar, he swam around
the rock to a gravelly beach, and soon had him
high, but not dry, on the shore. Indeed, the little
fellow had taken so much water inside as well as
out that he lay helpless and insensible, though
beyond the breaking waves.
For a moment, Surf was puzzled. He knew his
task was not finished; but what should he do next ?
A bright thought struck him. The day was windy,
and the boy had pulled his little cap down over
his ears so tightly that the waves had not washed
it off. But Surf pulled it off with his teeth and ran
at full speed with it to the house. The family was
just gathering around the dinner-table when the
great, wet dog bounded in and laid the.well known
cap on Mr. Andrews' chair.
"Merciful Heaven cried the father, seizing


the cap and rushing out, followed by his wife and
all the family.
Surf led the way, whining in a low tone, to
where Bob lay, pale indeed, but already showing
signs of life. Fortunately, Mr. Andrews was an
intelligent man and knew just what to do. And
so, within an hour, Bob was in his high chair at
the table with the rest. But he shared his dinner,
that day, with the brave dog that had saved his
Surf entered so heartily into the family rejoicing,
and was so elated at the praise he received, that
there seemed to be some danger that he would
wag his tail off before the day ended.
Yet, even after this heroic act, Surf never so
much as hinted by his manner, "See what a
good dog I am "




CARLO felt himself to be one of the family.
From his puppyhood days, he had been treated
with great kindness and allowed to come into the
house under certain restrictions. He also had ac-
corded to the different members of the household
various marks of his favor, according to his
estimate of their deserts; but for his mistress and
her sister he had unbounded affection. When-
ever they walked abroad, he was their self-ap-
pointed guardian, and never had ladies a more
attentive and gallant escort. Not only did he
respond gratefully to any favor or notice that
he received, but he was also ready to prove him-
self no carpet-knight should danger threaten the
Now Carlo felt that he was not a mere watch or
churning dog-an animal kept for a purpose. By
ties of long association and deep affection, he was
one of the family. That he had his three meals
daily did not suffice; he observed all that was
going on, and noted any change that occurred.
The absence of his mistress and her sister quite
depressed his spirits, and when they returned his
joy was great indeed.
They had been away, and they returned one
summer evening. As they were greeting the mem-
bers of the household, Carlo heard their voices, and
came bounding in, intent on the most frisky,
hearty and demonstrative of welcomes. At that
critical moment, however, a flea on his back gave
him a most venomous, distracting bite, and, half
frantic from pain, Carlo turned his head so sud-

denly to return the bite, that he tumbled down
on his nose and rolled over, cutting so awkward
and ridiculous a figure that every one burst out
Carlo rose, and having given his mistress a look
of reproach, walked with great dignity out of the
room. And many were the apologies that had to be
made before his wounded feelings were soothed and
the old cordial relations resumed.


A GENTLEMAN in Bristol, England, owned a dog
remarkable both for intelligence and devotion.
The dog had been taught to run errands. It
was a part of his daily duty to go to the meat-
market, carrying a basket in which was the money
to pay for the meat. One day his master thought
he would put a new test to the dog's faithfulness
and intelligence. He ordered the man who kept
the market to take the money as usual, but to refuse
the meat and order the dog to go home without it.
This the market-man did, and the poor dog
returned to the house dejected, melancholy, slow,
with ears and tail hanging, and with the basket
empty. Seeing his master, he seemed to try to
put on an air of cheerfulness, evidently hoping
that the situation would be understood. But, no;
the master frowned upon him, scolded him harshly,
and bade him go out of his sight. This was
almost more than the poor fellow could bear, and
sneaking out he crept under a table in an outer
shed, where he lay for two days to all appearances
in a state of gloomy despair. On the third day, his
master called him out, speaking kindly to him
again, and the dog was wild with joy. Again his
master sent him to the market with the money in
his basket. The dog went in, but this time he
placed the money on the floor and put his paw
on it, before he allowed the market-man to
take the basket. When the man gave him the
meat, the dog quickly whisked the money back
into the basket and trotted off home with both
meat and money, giving them to his master with
an air of decided triumph.



IN that beautiful suburb of Philadelphia known
as Germantown, lived a beautiful little' gray Skye
terrier with a very long name,- Mephistopheles.
He was called Meph, for short; and a remarkably
intelligent dog he was.




At one time Meph's master, who is a well known
physician of Germantown, was ill. In the mid-
dle of the night, the dog bounded to the side
of the bed, and laying its paw upon the arm of its
master endeavored to awaken him. Having suc-
ceeded, it tried in various ways to attract his atten-
tion to the opposite side of the room; repeatedly
leaving the bed and returning.
Unwilling to be disturbed, the invalid remained
some time without noticing his little pet. But the
animal became so importunate that the doctor
could no longer remain impassive. He arose, and,
following the dog to the bay-window on the other
side of the room, he found, to his astonishment,

that a goldfish had leaped out of the aquarium,
and was panting almost lifeless on the carpet.
Meph evinced muchjoy when his master restored
the fish to its watery home; and the doctor fondly
caressed Meph, who quietly returned to his cushion
bed, seeming perfectly satisfied with having per-
formed his mission and saved the life of the fish.
He must have evolved the idea that all was not
right- that the fish was out of its sphere."
This dog met an untimely death through the
cruelty of a man, who, on account of some trivial
annoyance, put an end to poor Meph's career.
The man might have learned a lesson of kindness
from the little creature he wantonly murdered.


BY M. A. L.

'POTHECARY, 'pothecary,
living in the rose,
Tell us how to make the
scent that everybody

S"A penny's worth of nectar;
S, a dozen drops of dew;
- A little compound sunshine
that's slowly filtered
A sun-glass made of dia-
: mond, and then-the
MI .mixing done-
S- Set out a little flask of it
S' to simmer in the sun."

'Pothecary, 'pothecary, is
there nothing more ?
"Yes, it taketh industry to
make the summer's
.' So, my lad and lady, run
off now and play ;-
This, like every day in
June, is my busy day."

\ N_2






WHO knows what a riddle is? A riddle is something to be guessed.
Well, here is a riddle in a picture, all about pretty painted bridges.

Who can guess it? The bridges are not real bridges, and they are not
really painted,- yet every summer we see them. Now, what kind of
Bridges are they ? Nobody over seven years of age need try to guess these

Now you shall have another riddle,- this time about sheep, but they
are not the real sheep shown in the picture. On almost any sunny day you
can see the kind of sheep that this riddle means. Many of these riddle
sheep are white as snow, and they keep moving, moving, when the wind
blows. Did you ever see them? Perhaps if you look out of your window
now you may see some of the same sort. But it must be at noon time, or
in the morning when the sky is blue, or when you wake up in the night
and see the moon softly stealing in and out among them. Do not look
for them when it is time for little folk to say "good-night!" Then these




And now comes the very last riddle,- about Dormio Hill. What can
the white ground of Dormio Hill be? It is in the land of Nod, and if you
And now comes the very last riddle,--about Dor-io Hill. What can

wish to find it, I do believe the Sand-man can take you to the very spot.
And who is the Sand-man? Ah, that is another riddle which Mamma
can answer for you.



4." .
..W "; ",'

.- ,. "' -,:i i i

il -- - -. --

I J AC K N THE-' U L 'I T.

WE will open the meeting this month, my
hearers, with "A Bumble Grumble" sent to you
by my friend Harold W. Raymond.

A bumble-bee sat on the wild-rose tree,
And grumbled because he was big and fat;
" Just look at yon butterfly light," quoth he,
I wish I were airy and graceful like that!
0 ho!
I know
'T is hard to be heavy, and huge, and slow "

A mischievous boy the butterfly caught,
And in his rough grasp it fluttered and died.
Sir Bumble his dagger drew out, and thought
That his end had come; but he boldly cried:
Come on
My son;
This stinger and I weigh nearly a ton."

" You'll have to excuse me, sir," said the lad,
I know the weight of your little barbed spear.
Were your logic less pungent I 'd be most glad
To meet you in conflict and vanquish you here.
I '11 say;
For I fear 't would unhealthy prove to stay."

The bumble-bee laughed a stitch in his side
When he saw the youngster in full retreat;
Then he stretched himself in a new-born pride
And threw out his chest with martial conceit.
Dear me! "
"w Said the bee,
'T is easy to see
An ounce of sting
Is better than yards of butterfly-wing."




And now you shall have a story that is n't in
verse, though there 's poetry in it. Turn about is
fair play," and this will interest you in the butter-
DEAR JACK: Please let me tell you this true story:
Dusty Wings is the name of a charming little pet of mine; and lie
is so curious a thing to have for a pet, that if it were not for his
name, I don't believe you could ever guess what he is.
One day in the early part of November, as I sat by the window, I
noticed lying on the piazza a beautiful butterfly, with his gorgeous
wings outspread. He was apparently stunned by the cold, as he did
not attempt to fly away when I went to pick him up. I brought
him into the warm room, when he soon became very lively.
His body is dark brown, covered with fine hairs, which look like
feathers when put under a magnifying glass. The wings show all
the colors of the rainbow, arranged in the most artistic manner. The
wings themselves are transparent, like those of a fly, and the color
is given to them by fine scales, which come off very easily. The
antenna a which grow from each side of the head are black and white.
Although you all have probably seen many butterflies as beautiful
as my pet, I don'tbelieve you ever watched one eat, and that is a very
interesting process. Dusty Wings alights on my finger and clings to
it as if he really loved me. I then put a drop of sugarin front of him.
Immediately a long trunk (it is hollow, like an elephant's) unwinds
and feels about until it finds the liquid, which gradually disappears;
and then Mr. Dusty Wings slowly coils his trunk around and stows
it away in a vertical opening in the center of his head. The trunk
is so delicate that when it is coiled up, it looks like afine watch-
spring. If he has not had enough, he lets me know by waving this
trunk in the air. The first time I fed him, he seemed shy and only
ate very little; now he is not at all afraid.
I made him a house with plenty of air-holes, and there he stays
most of the time on a warm corer of the mantel. 1 do not like to
let him out very often to fly about, as I am afraid he might be
stepped on. If I wear a flower he will crawl up my dress until he
comes to it, and there hewill stay, showing that he has notforgotten
his old life. Yours sincerely, ADA C. ASHFIELD.

MEMPHIS, TENN., January io, i886.
DEAR JACK: I thought some of your readers might be able to
answer my question.
There had been no rain here for about three weeks; it was in the
fall, and our school went to see a tree that had been raining for two
or three days; this tree was a sycamore. I saw two more trees that
rained. One was a box-elder, and the other an elm. The elm was
in the woods. The drops tasted like water, and dried up as quickly.
Can any one explain this to me ?
Your constant reader, JULIA S.
All look out, my friends, for raining trees, and
report the results of your observations. I 've seen
no such instance in my meadow as the one Julia
describes. But you all may go searchig the groves
and the books, and see what you can discover.

NEW YORK, March I, 1886.
DEAR JACK : I frequently have read of shooting
stars, but never of anything like this that I
saw. About four summers ago, I was staying at
a village on Long Island. One evening as I was
about to go into the house, I glanced up at the
heavens. Myriads of stars were shining brightly,
but no moon. As I was looking directly overhead,
there was a sudden, intense light, and a star burst
into fragments. The pieces slid a short distance
and then disappeared, as all shooting stars do.
The utter noiselessness of the whole occurrence
made it even more impressive and startling. Will


you please ask your readers whether they ever
have seen such a thing or read of anything like it ?
Yours respectfully, SUSAN A.

DEAR JACK: I meant to have written to you before, telling how
we boys coast in August, as I was reminded of it by reading the story
about coasting down the grass-covered hills, in ST. NICHOLAS for
August, 1885.
Along the Kennebec river are many huge ice-houses. The ice
is sent away in big ships in summer. It is raised high in the air
and swungon a sloping plank which reaches to the ship's deck.
Block after block is dispatched in this way very quickly. We boys
used to get pieces of old carpeting and put on the ice. Then each
boy would seat himself on a carpet-covered block of ice, and, in
something less than a wink, we would find ourselves on the ship.
We did this, the boys and I, till our mothers found it out. Then
we stopped. Your constant reader, JOHN W.
DEAR JACK: I saw some letters about turtles in
your department, and so I thought I would write
to you about something I noticed. I have a small
turtle, and I have seen that the shell scales off in
little pieces just the shape of the divisions on its
back. It shuts its eyes by raising the lower lid.
Has any one else noticed the first peculiarity ?
Your reader, W. I. L.

MR. C. F. HOLDER, I hear, is to tell you in
the June ST. NICHOLAS about some fishes and their
young, so this is a good time to show you this
letter from my friend Ernest Ingersoll, concerning
a fish that weaves its nest.
DEAR JACK: Among the small fishes that in-
habit the streams and ditches along the Atlantic
coast of the Northern States, is thefour-spined stick-
leback. Like the rest of the sticklebacks, this spe-

cies makes a nest in which the eggs are deposited.
The male fish makes the nest himself and defends
it with great spirit. It is about half an inch high
and three-eighths of an inch in thickness. It is
composed of stalks of water-weeds and small stuff
of that kind, bound together by a glutinous thread
which the fish spins out from a gland in his body,
and which is wound round and round the nest to
bind it together. It frequently happens, however,
that in poking apart the straws with his nose this
living bobbin will pass his body through the nest
and back again, thus weaving the thread he reels
out into the substance of the nest and sewing it
tightly together. Yours truly,

YOU all remember, I am sure, Robin's Um-
brella," which was described and shown to you
from this pulpit two months ago. Now I '11 tell you
about the way in which a clever humming-bird
shielded her little ones from the rain. There they
were, a nestful, and the rain beginning to fall.
The people who had watched the nest out of their
window were concerned about the young birds,
but the mother-bird evidently was prepared for the
emergency. Near the nest grew a large leaf,-it
was a butternut tree,- and on one side of the nest
a small twig stuck out. When the drops began to
fall, she came quickly, and with many tugs pulled
the leaf over the little nest, for a roof, and hooked
it by the twig on the other side, which held it
Thus the half-feathered babies were kept as
dry under their green roof as if their house had
been built by a carpenter, like the sparrow-houses
all around on the trees.
When the rain was over, the mother came back
and unhooked the leaf.






CONTRIBUTORS are respectfully informed that, between the ist of June and the 15th of September, manuscripts can not conveniently be
examined at the office of ST. NICHOLAS. Consequently, those who desire to favor the magazine with contributions
will please postpone sending their MSS. until after the last-named date.

THE Audubon Society, of which Jack-in-the-Pulpit informed our ALL of our readers who are interested in the handiwork of chil-
readers last month, takes its name from that of the great natu- dren, will remember Mr. Charles G. Leland's valuable papers con-
ralist J. J. Audubon. It has been established for the purpose of cerning Brass-Work and Leather-Work for young folk, published in
fostering an interest in the protection of wild birds from destruction this magazine, and will be glad to know that ST. NICHOLAS intends
for millinery and other commercial purposes. The head-quarters to print, before the close of the summer, an illustrated account of
of the society are at 40 Park Row, New York City. It invites the Children's Industrial Exhibition held in New York City last
the cooperation of young folk in every part of the country. April.


WE have the pleasure of beginning the Letter-Box this month with
five letters from the other side of the world. First of all, comes one
sent from Clermont, France, by "Georgine and Sybille," whose
letter is very charming and welcome even though they may not "yet
write well English."
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: If this will reach you but we don't know
your address. We have been having very pleasure to read you. We
understand it better than much books in English. We think little
Lord Fauntleroy very fine. If we tell you a fine tale you will
print it? A fine dog lives in the village named Ture, he had
hunger so he went to the chalet and pulled the cord with his patte,
and when the domestique came she gave him to eat, and Turc goes
all the days now and is given to eat. do you not think Turc is very
clever? We are very sorry to terminate our letter, but we are fear-
ful it be too long. You will give us very joy to print this. Mamma
says we do notyet write well English. "GEORGINE AND SYBILLE."

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I receive your paper every month since
November, when mother took it for a birthday present to me. I see
that many children write to you. Perhaps you will publish my letter
because it comes from a little Belgian girl. We live in a pretty place
called Boitsfort, quite near Brussels, and quite near the Foret de
Seignes, where we take pleasant rides, I on my pony, my brother and
sister on the two donkeys. My brother Louis is nine, my sister Tata
is six, and I am eleven. My cousin Helen, who is nineteen, traveled
all over America last year with her father, and likes very much your
country and the ways of the people there. She brought several
papers for children, and we decided that ST. NICHOLAS was the
best; that's why mother gave it me. I hope I too will go once to
the United States. Believe me, dear ST. NICHOLAS, yours sincerely,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Some of your readers might like to know
what an Italian peasant's house is like. On the ground floor the
donkey lives, on the second and third floors the people live, and on
the roof the chickens live.
If you wish to go and see them, you have to go up some narrow
stairs that'are very dark, but when you come out on the roof there
is the most beautiful view of the quaint old town, with its red roofs,
and the sky and sea. We went to walk to-day, and found violets,
blue hyacinths, and daisies growing wild under the olive-trees.
I get my ST. NICHOLAS from London, but I am a little American
girl from Cleveland, Ohio. Your loving reader, LILY MAY Z.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I live at Warsaw in the winter. I am ten
years old. I have nine dolls and a King Charles dog, named Beauty,
and she has a great antipathy to music. I am Polish, and have been
learning English for two years. Mamma takes you for me, and I
like your stories much.
I hope this letter is not too long to print. INA KOMAR.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I must tell you something about my life in
Turkey. I am an English girl, about thirteen years of age. I have
been living in Turkey for twelve years. In the summer we go to
the country, to the Island of Prinkipo, in the S.: ?. .-i-....i It
is very small and pretty. We have great fun t..-: .,1 '' ..: .-a.-.
We go out sailing and rowing. There are a great many donkeys at
Prinkipo; we often go out for rides on them. We generally go around
the island, so you can imagine how small it is. It takes about one
hour to ride around it on donkeys, and about one hour and a half to
go around it on foot.
The people here are mostly Greeks. Of course there are some
Turks and Armenians. At the back of the island there are the ruins
of the monastery of the Greek Empress Irene, who lived a long time
I will tell you a little story about the dogs of this place. In
Constantinople and the villages near it, there are a great number
of dogs. All these dogs have their own quarters, and quarrel very
much with those of other quarters. At San Stephano, about two
years ago, some wolves came down from the mountains, and then
all these dogs united and chased the wolves right back to the
mountains. And then they went home to their quarrels again.
What I mean is, that although they had their differences amongst
themselves, they were ready to join together against the wolves. I
hope my letter will be good enough to interest the other little girls
who wrte to you, and who have never lived in Turkey.
Your interested reader, MURIEL P.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I want to tell you about our performance
of your comedy for children, "Dicky Dot and Dotty Dick." We
got it up in our Cozy Club. I was stage manager. I am ten years
old. My sister Christine was Dotty. She is six. A little boy named
Sidney was Dicky. He is six and a half. They both knew their
parts perfectly, and did so well that everybody said it was too cute
for anything, and I felt very much pleased. We all love ST.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I was wishing for you before Christmas,
because all the girls at school say you are so interesting. I never
had a hope of getting you. But what do you think! On Christ-
mas, to my great surprise, among my presents was a ST. NICHOLAS.
I jumped around with glee. I sat down, left all my other presents,
and commenced reading you. I am eleven years old. I think the
covering of you very pretty. The picture in front is Apollo, the
god of the sun." I am very fond of mythology. Mamma is going to
have my ST. NICHOLAS bound when this year is out, and I am going
to take you next year. Hoping this letter will be printed, I remain,
your devoted reader, ETTA K.


x886.] THE LETTER-BOX. 635

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I live in the country, very high up on the
Hudson River Palisades. The woods are all about us, and my
nurse takes me to the edge of the great cliffs to look down on the
shining river, and see the steamers and the lovely white sails far over
on Long Island Sound.
We have'a baby colt in the pasture with his mamma, whose name
is Aniline, because her glossy coat shines in bright tints when the
sun strikes it. The colt follows us about like a large dog. Papa has
taught him not to be afraid.
At night when it grows dark, and I am undressed for bed, we
hear Owen calling the cows, Here, Dolly l Dolly Here, Jenny
Jenny! Jenny!"
Then he sits down to milk them, and the three cats all gather
around him, watching and waiting for a sip.
The katydids sing a great deal up here, and this is what Mamma
has sung to me at bed-time, and you will guess from it, dear ST.
NICHOLAS, what my name is:

Out-of-doors the air is full
Of voices small;
List to what they 're talking of,
So busy all:
"Did little Katy do to-day
As she was bid?"
Something hastens to reply,
Katy did! "
Katy did n't! Katy did;
She did! she did! she did!

Who this morn played in the hay ?
Katy did!
Who pulled pussy's tail to-day?
Katy did !
Did she eat all Grandma's cakes ?
Katy did n't! Yes, she did!
Did she sometimes make mistakes?
Katy did, she did!

Did she sup on milk and bread ?
Katy did;
Did she run away to bed?
Katy did:
Said her prayers at Mamma's knee!
Katy did Katy did!
And fell asleep ah, dreary me!
Katy did, she did!
Katy did n't! Katy did!
She did she did she did !

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We have been taking you ever since you
first started, and I can never tell you how we all love and admire
every feature you possess.
I have two brothers and two sisters. My youngest brother is
only seven, so you see we will have to take you several years yet.
Papa and Mamma read you almost as much as they read their
grown-up magazines.
I live on a farm in the western part of Whiteside County, Illinois,
about four miles from the Mississippi. We think it is a beautiful
country here with the bluffs, trees, and farming lands on the bot-
toms. Our picture gallery is all outdoors. From your faithful
reader, D. E. H.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: My Uncle gave you to me for my birthday
present, and I like your pages very much ; and I have two other
friends that like you very much. I like the story named "Oh,
Dear! very much, and my sister liked the story "Davy and the
Goblin." We have a very cunning cat, and we call it Blaine. I
hope my letter will be printed, as it is the first one I ever wrote, and
I am anxious to see it in the magazine.
Your little reader, Avis N.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have written several letters before, but
none of them have been printed ; but I hope that this one will be.
I have a very nice time here in summer. My home is within forty
feet of the water. I have a boat, and can row, swim, dive or fish.
I am just learning to ride on horseback. In the winter I live in Boston,
and I have a governess to teach me algebra, English history, physi-

ology, and the common branches, and I study French and Latin at
Mrs. Newhall's. I have taken you for five years. ELAINA T.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: In one of your nice magazines last sum-
mer, you gave an account of how to make a string house. I thought
it would be very nice to make one; so my sister and 1 tried it. We
made it exactly according to the directions; it took us three whole
days. We enjoyed reading and playing in it very much. We made
a kind of porch in front, so as not to make it look so much like a
We have been taking you ever since x880, and we like you better
than any other book. I think your best stories are, "Little Lord
Fauntleroy," and "From Bach to Wagner."
Hoping you will print my letter, for my sister would not write -
(she said you would not print it, but I hope to show her that you will)
I remain, Your devoted reader N. C.

DEAR "ST. NICK" (as you are nick-named among us): I have
taken you ever since I was a very "small girl," and now, I am sorry
to say, I am a very large one of eighteen.. I am told that I ought to
abandon dear old "ST. NICK" for SOme "grown-up magazine,"and
I feel that it is indeed sad to grow old if giving up ST. NICHOLAS is
one of the penalties, which I shall take care that it shall not be. I have
just fallen in love with "Little Lord Fauntleroy," and I wish the
"small boy" of the present day would copy after him, but I
fear that would be too "pretty a state of things." I am afraid to
keep on lest I lose the opportunity of seeing myself in print and
of boring the readers of the Letter-box; so I shall clcse to avoid
such a calamity. Faithfully yours, Yuo YUsl."

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am one of your constant readers, having
taken ST. NICHOLAS from the first number, and I do not think that
a more interesting magazine for boys and girls can be found. I live
in the quaint old Creole City of Nouvelle Orleans, as the Creoles
call it. I was born here, and I expect to live here all my life. I do
not think that you have any correspondents from New Orleans, at
least I have seen none in the Letter-box, so I take the liberty of writ-
ing to you. I tell you, dear old ST. NICK, it would do you good
to come and see our Carnival here in March; many children
are dominoed and masked in fearful and fantastic costumes. Rex,
King of the Carnival, enters in grand procession the day before Mardi-
Gras, usually coming up the rver on a steamboat, gayly decked in
bunting. All the military turn out to escort him to the Royal
Palace. The artillery battalions salute him on the levee, and then
he parades through all the principal streets. Generally there are three
night processions -those of Momus, Comus, and Proteus-and
they are gorgeous beyond description, and there is one day proces-
sion- that of Rex- which is also magnificent; there are also a great
many Burlesque organizations I. O. O. M. (Independent Order of
the Moon), and the Phunny Phorty Phellows are the principal ones,
I hope you will publish this, as I think it will interest theboy and girl
readers of ST. NICHOLAS ; it is my first letter. I forgot to say that
King Rex also parades the day after his arrival.
Your loving reader, WILLIAM S. P.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have often wanted to write to you before,
to tell you how much I like your stories. In the July number of
1885, there was a story in which the training-ship New Hamp-
shire" was mentioned. I liked the story very much, because I can
see the "New Hampshire" from my window.
I am deeply interested in "Little Lord Fauntleroy," and I liked
Miss Alcott's Spinning-wheel Stories very much. 1 hope to see my
letter in print. Your constant reader, MAMIE S. W.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I live on a ranch in Colorado and I look
forward every month with great pleasure for the ST. NICHOLAS. I
am going to tell you about a donkey we had once; we hitched him
in a sled and tried to make him go, but he would not stir from home;
after a little while we succeeded, and when we turned around he
went like the wind, so that we could hardly hold him. The same
afternoon he ran into a post and broke the sled to pieces.
We have coyotes here, and they kill our sheep. One day I saw
the herd running as fast as they could, and what do you think was
after them ? A horrid coyote, which was so thin that it looked as
if it was going to die-from hunger. The coyote is not a brave ani-
mal; it will sneak around and kill sheep, bu t will never fight dogs.
This is the first letter I have ever written to a magazine. Good-bye,
dear ST. NICHOLAS. I am, ever your friend, IDA R. F.
P. S. I am eleven years old, and live eleven miles from a school.
I have gained my education from reading ST. NICHOLAS, and study-
ing at home.


DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: In your February issue, there was a com-
munication concerning "curve-pitching," and a diagram was used
to explain why a ball curves in a certain direction.
I beg leave to call attention to what I believe to be a mistake in
the explanation. The writer says that the curve must be toward
the retarded side." I think it must be from the retarded side; for,
the ball while advancing is also revolving in a horizontal plane,-
we will say from right to left.
In its rapid flight, the ball condenses the air in front and tends to
form a vacuum behind, and the condensed air in front attempts to
flow around the sides of the ball to fill the vacuum behind.
Now, ir ri. i; .. .. ...-,- ; ned, the side B, the rotation of which
conspires r. . .. translation resists, by friction, the at-
tempt of the air to flow back while the side D, in which the motion
of rotation is opposite to the motion of translation, offers no resist-
ance to the air in flowing around its side. For that reason the ball
meets with most resistance in front of B, and least in front of D.
Hence, taking the direction of least resistance, it curves toward D
or from the side of most resistance.
Very respectfully, ELMER STOiR.

MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I thought I would write and tell you
how happy you have made me this winter. I am a little Washington
girl, only ten years old, and have been spending the winter in Virginia
for my health. Itwas very lonely there; and nothing interested me
so much as your stories. The Brownies" are so funny !
I am writing this from my home in Washington; but I must tell
you what a hard time I had to get here. The steamer I was on was
.::t; : i- blinding snow-storm, and had to anchor in the Chesa-
.: I.. ., whole day and night. Then, when we got nearly to
Baltimore, a tug came to tell us that we could not get into Balti-

more for the ice; so the steamer turned around and went back to
Annapolis. From there I took the cars to Washington.
Good-bye. Your constant reader, JULIA ROCK.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: The following verbatim copy of a compo-
sition by an eleven-year-old boy will interest some of your readers
by its originality. It is without suggestion or correction. W.
Do you like to carry lunch? I like to eat the lunches that you
carry; sometimes you have better lunch than other times. I like
it the best when you have chicken sallad in. I hope you do notever
take anything out of any other basket. I don't know very much to
say to-day. Do you like a dog to carry you? 1 hope you will all
ways have good lunches from this time on. Do you likehe jam to
run out of the bread on to you. I would not think you would, but I
don't know what you would like. Would you rather be a boy ?
H. B.

WE heartily thank the young friends whose names here follow, for
pleasant letters received from them: Bessie C. Ketchum, Yum-
Yum" and Ko-Ko," A. M. L., Susie M., Winnie Jackson, Eddie
D. Sherlock, Henry W. Armstrong, Jessie Overlin, Herman Nelson
Steele, Estelle K. D., Mark Waterman, Bijou J. McKinnon, George
A. Root, Catherine H. L'Engle, Bessie M. Rhodes, Rita C. Smith,
Fullerton L. Waldo, Emmett Murray, Mabel H. Chase, Elizabeth
B. Kelsey, "Bee," Meg R. M., Myra E. Smith, Dorothy E. B.,
Nattie, Beth and Cherrie, Florence Ames, Maurice S. Sherman,
Maud R., Al. Robinson and Stuart Tatum, Mary A. Evans, P. B.
Jennings, Herbert Cutting, Katie B. Baird, Georgie King, Clara,
Florence and Ada, Constance P. G., Mabel Thompson, Alice Bus-
sing, James G. R. Flemming, Nellie Montgomery, Blanche E. B.,
Leigh Hodges, "Isabel Conway," Annie R. F., Bertie Byers, Edith
I. Benedict, J. A. Bonsteel.

,4, .-_ -' 'e

lrY. 3r -~ t s bo n v.
-i I_ Iif-~''N' I L

THE Agassiz Association is now so large, so widely known, and
so firmly established, that, in order to protect ourselves from the
annoyance of frivolous persons who, taken by the novelty of the
idea, seek to join us just for the fun of the thing, and then drop
away after a few weeks, we have decided to make the gates of
admission swing just a trifle less easily. The following circular will,
therefore, be sent hereafter to all who seek admission. It will be
seen by every one that its requirements are sufficiently liberal:

"THE Agassiz Association is a Society for the observation of nature.
It is composed of 'Chapters,' which, apart from the common name,
constitution, and badge, are free to follow their own pursuits under
the direction of the President of the A. A. The smallest number
recognized as a Chapter is four. but after a branch has once been
admitted, and has continued active for six months, it is not then cut
off, though its membership should decline below four.
"There is no entrance fee for Chapters, nor any charge forregistra-
tion, or for the advertising of 'Exchanges' in ST. NICHOLAS.
There are no assessments, nor any "dues." The special classes,

occasionally conducted by eminent scientists, are freely open to all
members. The only necessary expense is 54 cents for the A. A.
Hand-book. Engraved charters can be obtained for $1.25 each, as
many Chapters and individual members wish them, but there is
no obligation to purchase them. As we make no charges, we ap-
preciate generous orders for the little hand-books, whose sales about
cover the expenses of our enormous correspondence usually
nearly every member is glad to secure a copy. Individuals who
anising a Chakter, are charged fee of50 cents
K rice of the Hand-book.
Kindly fill out the inclosed application form and card (excefting
'No. of Chafter'), and return them at once. Then, if accepted,
the certificate, number, and letter will be sent. It must be made
one of your by-laws that your Secretary send to the President a
carefully prepared report at least once a year, and should you at any
time be compelled to disband, immediate notice must be sent and the
charter returned.
"The ST. NICHOLAS magazine is our only official organ, and it
should be found on the table of every Chapter; this, however, is not
compulsory. In the November, I885, issue of ST. NICHOLAS, will
be found full directions for the annual reports, which are required
from every Chapter.
Badges are no longer to be had from Mr. Hayward, but should
be ordered through the President.






"WE, whose names are on the accompanying card, hereby petition
to be recognized as a Chapter of the Agassiz Association. We
accept the constitution, we agree to the conditions of membership
as explained in the circular from which this form has been detached,
and we faithfully promise to do our best work in our several branches
of study, and in all ways heartily to support and further the interests
of the General Association. Respectfully
The only new conditions are the agreement to send an annual
report, and to send immediate notice, in case of disbanding. Failure
to do the latter causes untold confusion throughout the whole
Society, as the disbanded Chapters continue, sometimes for years,
to be addressed by the active ones.


IMPORTANT as are the proceedings of our Chapters, as set forth in
their reports," they must not be allowed to crowd out the records
of personal observation, which we have presented until lately under
the heading-" Notes." We suggest, therefore, that all Chapters
forward promptly to the President whatever items of interest come to
their notice from time to time, without waiting for the formal annual
report of the Chapter's progress. The most important results of
your observations should also be incorporated in your annual report,
as being of quite as much general interest as the condition of your
treasury. We intend to devote a large share of this page to these
" Notes," during the months of July and August, when no Chapter
reports are due.


314, Lancaster, Pa. (A). With the Bedford, Pa., Chapter, We
have exchanged at least seven thousand crystals of iron pyrites, for
minerals, fossils, etc. Our egg, mineral, fossil, and shell cabinets
are all pretty well filled with labeled specimens. We now propose
to take up Botany, and desire to collect and mount at least four
hundred specimens. Until another year has elapsed, we hope to
pursue our studies of the myriad mysteries with which nature has
surrounded us.- Edw. R. Heitshu.
320, Peoria, Illmois. We like geology better than the other
sciences. We have several fine localities in which to seek speci-
mens, and we go searching for them whenever we get a chance.
We have several fine trilobites, corals, and other fossils. We are
very much pleased with the A. A., and are delighted when we read
of the good work ithas done.-James A. Smith.
339, Salt Lake City (A). We are progressing very nicely. At
the second or third meeting after our summer vacation, it was an-
nounced that the type of a defunct newspaper had come into the
possession of one of the members, and it was suggested that the
Chapter publish a monthly pamphlet.
The suggestion was carried into effect; two members were elected
editors and compositors combined. Friends kindly subscribed, and
counting $5 generously given by Dr. E. Evans, enough money was
raised to buy a cabinet eight feet high and three and one-half feet
wide. We are trying to get a library. Two of us are building
large boats to take trips and explore Great Salt Lake. We have
questions, two-minute talks, papers, select readings, and criticisms.
We mean to try to make this the most successful year of our ex-
istence.- Arthur Webb, Sec.
350, Neillsville, Wis. The dawning spring wakens us all. We
are planning a trip through Colorado, New Mexico, and Arizona,
which is to last all next winter.- M. F. Bradshaw.
354, Litckfteld, Conn. Our departments of ornithology and
zoilogy exhibit the best results. Many new specimens have been
added, and great improvement has been made in preserving them.
The library has been increased.-Lewis B. Woodruff.
355, North A dams, Mass. At present we have seventeen active
and eleven honorary members. We have questions distributed at
each meeting which the members are expected to answer at the fol-
lowing meeting. We try to have at least one good essay each week,
and occasionally a lecture. Our cabinet is pretty well filled.-M.
Louise Radio.
365, Hyde Park, Illinois. There have been fifteen regular and
three special meetings during the past year. September 18, 1885,
Mr. John F. Gilchrist was elected president, and Mr. S. D. Flood
vice-president of the Chapter. Since March 27, 1885, there have
been 125 specimens presented. The total number now in the cabi-
net is 000o. With the aid of the Board of Education, we have pur-
chased a microscope valued at $0oo. The literary exercises have
consisted, as a rule, of debates on subjects in natural science.--
Blanche Longmire, Sec.
374. Three of us have revived our Chapter. We devote ourselves
to science instead of arguing parliamentary nonsense, as we used to
do. We have come the conclusion that if we want to apply our-
selves to science we must drop parliamentary discussions.

Here is an example of our latest resolutions: Resolved, That
any member who does not do his share in the scientific work, or by
unseemly mirth distracts the attention of the meeting, shall, after
three reprimands by the president be expelled from the Chapter."
It is hoped by this and other cast-iron resolutions, to banish levity,
and meet together as sober, earnest workers. We 'd rather have
three earnest workers than thirty that take no interest.- Frank E.
378, Ambler, Pa. Our Society is now composed of about sixty
members, the teachers and scholars of Sunnyside School. We hold

"Poly-omma-tus iseu-darg-i.o-ls .'- Gracious! if a little
one like that has such a dreadful name, how can
I ever remember the big ones "

fortnightly meetings; the exercises consist of referred questions,
presentation of specimens, readings, occasional debates, and the
reading of the Sinnyside Naturalist by the editor. The officers
are: Pres., Mary McCann; V. P., Helen Styer; Sec., Carrie
A. Lukens; Treas., Anson Smith; Editor, John H. Rex. We
seem to be more interested in mineralogy and entomology than in
any other branches.--Carrie A. Iukens, Sec.
382, Brooklyn, N. Y. (F). This is our fourth year. We have
eight active and eight honorary members. Meetings have been held
weekly without interruption, except for summer vacations. Geology
has been our subject during the greater part of the time. Each year
we go a little farther into it. Our collection, while not large, is by



no means a poor one, and our pleasure is enhanced by examination
of actual specimens. We have all been benefited by our study, and
have now an intelligent general idea of geology. We have received
very kind attention from the President of the "Brooklyn Entomo-
logical Society," who is an enthusiast in plants and insects. No
Chapter is more interested than ours in the growth and success of
the entire Association.-D. A. Van Ingen, per B. S.
386, Pine City, Minn. We think that keeping live animals is
more profitable than only stuffed skins, as we have a live owl, and
find it more interesting to watch him than to watch askull and claws
which belonged to another owl. We have, of insects, 980 species;
minerals, ano; stuffed birds, 6; animals, 2 ; heads, 4; skulls, 6;
miscellaneous, o2. Total, 128; and ici8 of them are native in
Minnesota.- Ernest L. Stephen.
387, Baltimore, ld. (E). After your kind letter the members
took courage and determined, under all circumstances, to continue
the club. Our greatest difficulty was in securing a place to meet.
In our despair we went to the President of our University (Johns
Hopkins), who showed great interest in us, yet could not give us
a room under his roof. We then decided to store our collection
(which amounts to packing them on my own shelves, in the modest
little room known in our family as "Ned's Den"), and accept the
invitation of one of our young lady members to meet in her study.
This we have been doing ever since.-Edward McDowell, for the
395, Montreal (A). Since the organization of our Chapter on
January 5, 1883, a wonderful change has taken place. Then only
six individuals met to discuss the advisability of organizing a branch
here; to-day we have a large collection and a good attendance at the
Each session of this branch commences on the first Friday in Octo-
ber of each year and closes about the 15th of June of the following
year. In this period we usually hqbd eighteen regular meetings. So
far this session, we have had six regular meetings at which a number
of excellent papers have been read : among them might be mentioned
the following: Origin of Life, by Rev. E. King, M. A.; two papers
on Botany, by H. McAdam, Esq.; New and Variable Stars, by W.
H. Smith, Esq., President of the Astro-Meteorological Association;
Our Insect Friends and Insect Foes, by Rev. T. W. Fyles; Elec-
tricity, by Prof. J. T. Donald, B. A.; and Health, its Importance
and its Laws, by Dr. Desrosiers, M. D. These papers were fully
illustrated with diagrams, specimens, and experiments.
Our collection is steadily increasing, and numbers about 7000
.specimens at present, neatly arranged in ninety-two drawers con-
tained in two large cabinets, and an upright glass case, which latter
contains the mounted birds and mammals. Our little library, which
contains only scientific publications, is nicely arranged in a book-case
for the purpose. It includes about 150 volumes and many pam-
phlets unbound.
One very encouraging feature in our work has been that many of
our young people who previously took but little interest in the study
of nature have now gained a liking for the study, and a number have
made private collections and are carefully studying the different
forms in which they are specially interested. One memberhas care-
fully studied the life history of H. luna, one of our large bombyces,
while another has been studying the flora of the Island of Mon-
treal, and another is devoting his time to chemistry. This latter sub-
ject has been acknowledged by many of the members to be the fun-
damental and most fascinating study, and the one most elevating to
the mind, as it can not fail to lead a student from nature to nature's
God, and I confidently believe the science which tends towards that
is the study which will eventually take first place in the scientific
world.--W. D. Shaw, Secretary, 34 St. Peter Street, Montreal, Can-
ada; Thos. Patton, Pres.
398, Roseville, N. J. Our Chapter has been divided into four
sections, each having its own Chapter, and in turn instructing the
club on its special subject. We have purchased a few standard
books, a book-case, and a very handsome cabinet, which we have
nearly filled with fine specimens. The leading events of the season
have been a social party, and a debate on the comparative utility of
wood and iron. We will never say die.-Sara Darrach, Secretary.
400, Fargo, Dakota. We have rented a fine suite of rooms. We
have eighteen members, and the prospect of as many more. We
have a cabinet full of specimens, and are prepared to exchange
minerals, shells, Indian relics, etc., with other chapters. We are
settled now, and are doing good hard work. With best wishes for
yourself and the A. A.-Frank Brown, Sec. Box 1769.


262, Denver (B). It has been a long time since any report has
been made by this Chapter, and we have been so far separated that
we could not do much for the A. A.; but we hope to do better in the
future. About one-half the members have been living in the East for
two years, while the rest of us were here. We were united a little

over a year ago, and since then there has been a great deal of sick-
ness among us, ending disastrously; but for all that, we have had
quite a mass of correspondence with other Chapters in all parts
of the country, and have also done some exchanging of specimens
which has resulted very favorably for us, and, we think, for those
to whom we have sentspecimens. We have now avery nice cabinet,
well filled with specimens which we value very highly, and we shall
soon have to get another, as we have room for no more specimens.
We hope to do some good work in the future in mineralogy, which
is our particular branch ofstudy. Ernest L. Roberts, Sec. Box 2272.
295, Boonville, N. Y. Our Chapter ran down for a long time,
but a few months ago we started it anew and in earnest.
We now have seven active members, and two honorary. We ex-
pect more to join at our next meeting. We meet once a week at
the houses of members.
Not long ago we went to see an old geologist's cabinet of speci-
mens. He has a great many. He said when he first commenced
collecting he lived in an old log-house, and his first cabinet was a
log split in two, with a board, that was used for a walk to the spring,
nailed on it. If all the members of our Chapter were half as earnest
to collect and preserve specimens as he was, we should have some
lively times.- W. S. Johnson, Sec.


THE New England Meteorological Society invites the assistance
of members of the Agassiz Association in New England and East-
ern New York, in the observation of thunder-storms during the
summer months. Records are wanted of the time of the beginning
of rain and of the loudest thunder for every thunderstorm in all parts
of New England. More complete records, giving temperature and
direction of wind are welcomed from those who will make them.
Instructions and blanks will be furnished, on application to
W. M. DAVIS, Sec. N E. M. S.,
Cambridge, Mass.

MINERALS, curiosities, and fossils, for same. Send for list. E. G.
Conde, Schenectady, N. Y. (Sec. 891).
Pressed orange-blossoms, orange-wood, Japan plum-wood, fig-
wood, Florida moss and other Southern curiosities, for labeled bird-
skins, eggs, or nests. Write first.-Percy S. Benedict, 1243 St.
Charles Street, New Orleans, La.
Cocoons of the Cecrolia and Prometltea moths, for cocoons of
other moths.- 3646 Vincennes Av., Chicago, 111.
Pressed flowers.- Miss Alice Grass, Sec. 323, Bryan, Ohio.
First-class bird-skins, for Southern skins or eggs. Write first.-
L. M. Davies, 203 Newell St., Cleveland, Ohio.
Botanical specimens, for same. Send lists.- Theo. Kellogg, De
Pere, Wis.


No. Name. No. of Members. Address.
950 Swarthmore, Pa. (A)...... 8..Maria W. Flagg.
951 Cleveland, O. (E) ........ 4..L. M. Davies, 203 Newell St.
952 West Troy, N. Y. (A) .... 13..Geo. F. P. Michaelis,
Watervliet Arsenal.
953 La Porte, Ind. (C)........ 5..Mrs. A. C. Loomis, Box o669.
954 Copenhagen, N. Y. (A)... 5..L. L. Lewis, Box 74.
955 Ridgefield, Conn. (A) .... 5. Roger C. Adams.
956 Alleghany, Pa. (B) ....... 5. A. D. Roessing,
W. P. R. R. Depot.


412 Syracuse, N. Y. (C) ...... ..B. Burrett Nash.
165 Plymouth, Conn (A) ..... 4..W. C. Talmadge.
390 Chester, Mass. (A) ..........W. J. Stanton.


597 Lawrence, Kansas (B) .... 4..F. L Wemple, Iog9 Tenn. St.
323 Bryan, Ohio (A) ...... 8..Miss Alice Grass.

Address all communications for this department to the President
of the A. A.,
Principal of Lenox Academy, Lenox, Mass.






THE names of those who send solutions are printed in the third 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 St., New York City.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE FEBRUARY NUMBER were received, too late for acknowledgment in the May number, from E. Muriel
Grundy, England, 9 No name, Warrington, England, 9 A. H. Jameson, Accrington, England, I Francis W. Islip, Leicester, Eng-
land, 1o-
ANSWERS TO ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE MARCH NUMBER were received, before March 20, from Clifford and Coco Maud E.
Palmer-Paul Reese- Maud and Bessie Xylo Madge and the Dominie No name- Quincy- Sallie Viles-" Pepper and
Maria "-" Baby, Bobby, and Booby "-J. P. B. San Anselmo Valley "- Josie Martin- Dwight Merrill- Blithedale "- Betsy
Trotwood "- May and Philip Philip and Bobbie Faulkner-" Savoir et Sagesse "- Bertha Gerhard Nellie and Reggie Mohawk
Valley"- Shumway Hen and Chickens "- R. U. Pert "- B. H.- Lulu May- B. L. Z. Bub, No. 2 -" Frying-pan "- Francis
W. Islip Hazel and Laurel M. Margaret and E. Muriel Grundy-" Young England"-
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE MARCH NUMBER were received, before MARCH 20, from W. Young, 2--E. Routh, Blanche
and Fred, 8 E. H. Rossiter, r -G. Roome, i--D. Dean, I B. B., i- F. C. Barber, 2 "The Crew," i -J. R. Smith, I A. and
B. Knox, 8-G. Gardner, T-V. F. Hunt, --F. Althans, I--Nanki-Pooh, 2- R. E. Olwine, 2-"Dazee," 3-G. M. Bond, I-J. A.
Bonsted, I -F. and M. Mellen, I -W. W. Q., J. J. E., I -M. L. Hayward, R. L. Foering, I -A. G. and E. B. Converse, I
-J. H. Laycock, I W. H. Stuart, N. McK., I L. Simmons, I B. B. Witherspoon, 2- Hilda and Laura, E. L. Du Puy,
I- Mollie Ludlow, 8 Damon and Pythias," i Tweedledum and Tweedledee," 4 E. De B. Wickersham, 3 M. E. Breed, i -
Howard and Nickie, 2 F. E. Bond, x- Agnes E. Grunsbine, 2 "Tourmalir e," 2 W. K. Cornwell, 3 Ned Mitchell, 3 Feb-
ruary and June," 8- M. G. Fiero, 3--W. R. M., 8 -J. Moses, i --Edith Neil and Mamma, 8-S. and F. Guttman, 5 G. T.
Hughes, 2- Lizinka C. B., i L. Reeves, 6- Francesca and Co., 8- E. C. Bliss, --S. Hubbell, 3- Mamie R., 7 -J. R. Holme,
Jr., I L. A. Hosford, i Walter La Bar, 8 Eleanor, Maude and Louise Peart, 5 Two Cousins, 8 Dash, 8 Harry A. Bull, 6 -
F. M. Wickes, 3- Becky and Floy, 2 Emma St. C. Whitney, 4 Fannie and Louise, 6- N. L. Howes, 2- Zemie and Felice," 6 -
"Anonymous," 2-C. D. Mason, 2-Fred T. Pierce, 4-J. H. Miller, I L. H. Adams, I- Effie K. Talboys, 6-E. H. Seward, 6-
A. W. Lindsay, 6- A. and E. Pendleton, 8 C. S. Seaver and A. M. Young, 8 Lucia C. Bradley, 8 "Jack Spratt," 4 Theo.
Ther," 8 -Annette Fiske, 8 C. and H. Condit, 8- Belle and Bertha Murdock, 7 "Jabberwock," 8- T. Gutman, 4- R. Lloyd,
6- L. Rice, L. L. Lee, Morris, Lillie, Olive, and Ida G., 6--Aunt C. Avis, and G. S. Davenport, 7-J. A. Keeler, 3-
Jessie D., 8 Oscar and Rosa, 4 A. R. Pabst, 3- H. B. Well, 2-B. T. Dixon, --" Sairy Gamp and Betsy Prig," 8 -Jo and I, 8 -
Alice Crawford, I No Name, Norfolk, 7 Mamma and Pearl, 4 C. Holbrook, I Mamma and Fanny, 8 Seb and Barn, 8 Pygro,
- One Little Maid, E. Rossiter, M. L. G., 6- F. D., 6-Daisy and Mabel, 8- "Dolly Varden," 4 -No name, Warrington, 5.

I. The name of a large country. 2. The central part of an am-
phitheater. 3. Tidy. 4. An insect 5. Two-thirds of a bird. 6.
A vowel. "SAMBO."
ACROSS: I. A vessel with one mast. 2. A musical instrument.
3. A fungus growth found on rye. 4. Serving to inspire fear. 5.
Of a yellowish red color.
DOWNWARD: In yesterday. 2. An exclamation. 3. Mineral.
4. An imaginary monster. 5. Serving-boys. 6. A girl's name. 7. A
common, whitish metal. 8. A boy's nickname. 9. In yesterday.
H. H. D.
MY first is in branch, but not in tree;
My second in land, but not in sea;
My third is in orange, but not in seed;
My fourth is in plants, but not in weed:
My fifth is in first, but not in third;
My sixth is in mouse, but not in bird;
My seventh in smile, but not in pout;
My whole the world would look lonely without


I. UPPER LEFT-HAND DIAMOND: I. In plans. 2. The fine soft
hair of certain animals. 3. Prices of passage. 4. An early dissenter
from the Church of England. 5. To furnish with a new point. 6.
The juice of plants. 7. In plans.

II. UPPER RIGHT-HAND DIAMOND: I. In plans. 2. Marsh.
3. A character in Oliver Twist." 4. Africans. 5. The daughter
of Tantalus. 6. Born. 7. In plans.
III. CENTRAL DIAMOND: I. In plans. 2. An inclosure. 3.
Pertaining to the puma. 4. The goddess of retribution. 5. Per-
taining to a feature of the face. 6. Nothing. 7. In plans.
IV. LOWER LEFT-HAND DIAMOND: I. In plans. 2. A boy's
nickname. 3. A short staff. 4. Irritates. 5. A Latin word signi-
fying "to be unwilling." 6. Born. 7. In plans.
V. LOWER RIGHT-HAND DIAMOND: I. In plans. 2. To per-
mit. 3. Of a lead color. 4. More than two. 5. Weary. 6. A
name by which a father is sometimes called. 7. In plans.


/,: to, -M 1" 7. .,.

""; *. -I ,

FRon the objects shown in the diamond, construct a "double
diamond." (One that will read differently across and up and down.)
The two central words are shown in the center of the diamond.


I. THE month of October never is very cold. 2. She would as
lief scrub as learn a hard lesson. 3. There was an iceberg engraved
on the silver pitcher. 4. You must quit overworking or you will be
ill no doubt. 5. He knew her at once, by her peculiar gait. 6.
Can you command a layman to do what is the pastor's work? 7. I
love nice wicker-work. 8. The convicts are all sombre men, I should
say, when they do such heavy work. "LOU C. LEE.'.




My primals spell the Christian name, and my finals the surname
of a great and good man, who was born in June, and who died in
June. He was connected with a famous English school.
CRoss-WORDS (of equal length): I. The muse who presides over
comedy. 2. Excessive fear. 3. The king of the fairies. 4. A pop-
ular operetta. 5. Belonging to the stars. 6. A famous sailor.

''' ." L 't .. twelve little pict-
.... '.,' accompanying
.11.,. n, suggests the
' r,. ..-ifafamiliar berry.
J TJ .ne the berries in
r he order in which
. U' they are num-

(. --=-_

," _i .. ...
- i
-.In restart. m ea' A caterpillar A snake-

P. n T t --- as. c In restart' -


.' F? ...

SJeun 't s dogo el hatbeen a teer

Wheil eth thileb nesaso trosmocf veeyr neses,
i. In redstart. 2. A meadow. 3. A caterpillar. 4. A snake.
5. To turn aside. 6. An insect. 7. In redstart.

NI Jeun 't si dogo ot eli hatbeen a teer
Wheil eth thileb nesaso trosmocf veeyr neses,
Stepse lal eth nabir ni stre, dan sheal eth thear,
Grimminb ti o're hwit tensweses sawaruen.
Gantfrar dan estnil sa atht syro nows,
Writewheh eth tyingpi papel eter fils pu,
Dan edentryl nesil soem stal-eary birno's tens.

i. Behead a narrow piece of woven fabric and leave a quadruma-
nous animal. 2. Behead a coarse file and leave a poisonous serpent.


3. Behead an image or representation and leave to peruse. 4. Behead
a small, pointed piece of metal and leave to be indisposed. 5. Be-
head a Mohammedan prince and leave a person. 6. Behead current
and leave a small fish. 7. Behead to throw or cast and leave to
The beheaded letters, read in the order here given, will spell the
name of a Sunday which comes in June. "XYLO."

I . 3

4 . .. 2
ACROSS: I. Consuming by degrees. 2. A certain time of one's
life. 3. By degrees. 4. Daring. 5. One who chaffers. 6. Dis-
played. 7. Contrition. 8. The science of sounds. 9. Formerly
much used in making furniture.
The diagonals from i to 2 and from 3 to 4, each name a little song


MY first, a happy youngster,
Went forth one summer's day,-
My second he was seeking,
For he was fond of play.
And quoth he, somewhat sagely,
I 've not a single sou
To buy my whole, so, really,
I'll have to make these do."
He found the magic number;
Then down the road he went
To join his merry playmates,
On game of whole intent.

M. C. D.


THE problem is to change one given word to another given word,
by altering one letter at a time, each alteration making a new word,
the number of letters being always the same, and the letters remain-
ing always in the same order. Sometimes the metamorphoses may
be made in as many moves as there are letters in each given word,
but in other instances more moves are required.
EXAMPLE: Change LAMP tO FIRE in four moves. Answer, LAMP,
I. Change APE to MAN in eight moves. 2. Change OARS to BOAT
in eight moves. 3. Change LEAD to GOLD in six moves. 4. Change
WARM to COLD in five moves. 5. Change ONE to TWO in eight
moves. 6. Change AGE to GAS in seven moves.


Hark, hark The dogs do bark,
The beggars are coming to town;
Some in rags and some in tags,
And some in velvet gown.
NUMERICAL ENIGMA. A jest's prosperity lies in the ear
Of him that hears it, never in the tongue
Of him that makes it.
-Love's Labor Lost, Act. v., Sc. 2.
Pi. AT times a fragrant breeze comes floating by,
And brings, you know not why,
A feeling as when eager crowds await
Before a palace gate
Some wondrous pageant; and you scarce would start,
If from a beech's heart
A blue-eyed Dryad, stepping forth, -. i:.J i,.
Behold me! I am May !" Henry Timrod.
CENTRAL ACROSTIC. Rowena. i. sh-O-ne. 2. sh-E-ll. 3.
to-W-er. 4. cr-A-te. 5. pa-R-ry. 6. pa-N-ic.
GREEK CROSS. Upper Square: i. Start. 2. Tabor. 3. Above.
4. Roves. 5. Tress. Left-hand Square: i. Tract. 2. Rumor.
3. Ample. 4. Coles. 5. Tress. Central Square: i. Tress. 2.
Raven. 3. Evade. 4. Sedge. 5. Sneer. Right-hand Square:
i. Sneer. 2. Noble. 3. Ebbed. 4. Elegy. 5. Redye. Lower
Square: i. Sneer. 2. Nacre. 3. Eclat. 4. Erato. 5. Retop.

TRIPLE ACROSTIC. Primals, centrals, and finals, mist-rust-less.
Across: i. MonaRchaL. 2. IntrUsivE. 3. SpinSterS. 4. TrusT-
INVERTED PYRAMID. Across: i. Dimension. 2. Devours. 3.
Nitre. 4. Lee. 5. D.
CONNECTED SQUARES: Centrals, downward, house-w-right; cen-
trals, across, heart-w-heels. 1. I. Echos. 2. Croup. 3. House. 4.
Ousel. 5. Spell. II. I. Ashes. 2. Siege. 3. Heart. 4. Egret. 5.
Setto. III. i. Pshaw. 2. Stela. 3. Heels. 4. Allot 5. Waste.
IV. i. Carom. 2. Amice. 3. Right. 4. Ochre. 5. Meter.
FINAL ACROSTIC. Finals, Plantagenet. Cross-words: i. shrimP.
2. symboL. 3. salviA. 4. spraiN. 5. spiriT. 6. siestA. 7.
sprinG. 8. simplE. 9. straiN. o1. satirE. ir. straiT.
WORD-SQUARES IN DIAMONDS. I S. 2. Pat. 3. Sates. 4. Tea.
5. S. II. i. F. 2. Tap. 3. Fares. 4. Pen. 5. S. III. x. F. 2.
Baa. 3. Fairy. 4 Art 5. Y.
Sleep, soldiers! still in honored rest,
Your truth and valor wearing;
The bravest are the tenderest,-
The loving are the daring.
HOUR-GLASS. Centrals, Cleveland; Cross-words: I. deliCious.
2. sheLlac. 3. fiEnd. 4. EVa. 5. E. 6. iLl. 7. meAns. 8.
misName. 9. overDoses.
WORD-SQUARE. I. Anna. 2. Near. 3. Name. 4. Area.