Front Cover
 La Fayette
 A child's fancy
 Little lord Fauntleroy
 Three velvety bees
 Fly-fishing for trout
 George Washington
 A song of summer - The last cruise...
 Wonders of the alphabet
 A difference of opinion
 Wild hunters
 The theoretic turtle
 Nan's revolt
 The pussies' coats - The kelp-...
 Aunt Deborah's lesson
 Timothy Timid
 Ready for business; or, choosing...
 What it was
 Captain Jack's Fourth-of-July...
 Tippie and Jimmie
 Number one
 Amusing the baby
 The brownies in the menagerie
 For very little folk: A letter...
 The letter-box
 The Agassiz association - Sixty-third...
 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 July 1886
mods:recordIdentifier source ufdc UF00065513_00173
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. 9
mods:topic Children's literature
Literature for Children
St. Nicholas, vol. 13, no. 9
Saint Nicholas
mods:typeOfResource text
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D1 Front Cover
P1 Page
D2 Frontispiece
P3 642
D3 La Fayette 3 Chapter
P4 643
P5 644
D4 A child's fancy 4 Poem
P6 645
D5 Little lord Fauntleroy 5
P7 646
P8 647
P9 648
P10 649
P11 650
P12 651 6
P13 652 7
P14 653 8
D6 Three velvety bees
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D7 Fly-fishing for trout
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P17 656
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P19 658
P20 659
P21 660
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D8 Daisy-song
P23 662
D9 George Washington
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D10 song summer 10
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D11 Wonders the alphabet 11
P38 677
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D12 difference opinion 12
P40 679
D33 Wild hunters
P41 680
D13 The theoretic turtle 14
P42 681
D14 Nan's revolt 15
P43 682
P44 683
P45 684
P46 685
P47 686
D15 pussies' coats 16
P48 687
P49 688
P50 689
P51 690
P52 691
P53 692
P54 693
D16 Aunt Deborah's lesson 17
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D17 Timothy Timid 18
P58 697
D18 Ready business; or, choosing an occupation 19
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P60 699
P61 700
D19 What it was 20
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D20 Captain Jack's Fourth-of-July kite 21
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D21 If 22
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D23 Number one 24
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D24 Amusing baby 25
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D25 brownies in menagerie 26
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D29 Agassiz association Sixty-third report 30
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St. Nicholas
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00173
 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: UF00065513:00173
 Related Items
Preceded by: Our young folks
Preceded by: Children's hour (Philadelphia, Penn.)
Preceded by: Little corporal
Preceded by: Schoolday magazine
Preceded by: Wide awake

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
        Page 642
    La Fayette
        Page 643
        Page 644
    A child's fancy
        Page 645
    Little lord Fauntleroy
        Page 646
        Page 647
        Page 648
        Page 649
        Page 650
        Page 651
        Page 652
        Page 653
    Three velvety bees
        Page 654
    Fly-fishing for trout
        Page 655
        Page 656
        Page 657
        Page 658
        Page 659
        Page 660
        Page 661
        Page 662
    George Washington
        Page 663
        Page 664
        Page 665
        Page 666
        Page 667
        Page 668
        Page 669
        Page 670
    A song of summer - The last cruise of "The Slug"
        Page 671
        Page 672
        Page 673
        Page 674
        Page 675
        Page 676
    Wonders of the alphabet
        Page 677
        Page 678
    A difference of opinion
        Page 679
    Wild hunters
        Page 680
    The theoretic turtle
        Page 681
    Nan's revolt
        Page 682
        Page 683
        Page 684
        Page 685
        Page 686
    The pussies' coats - The kelp-gatherers
        Page 687
        Page 688
        Page 689
        Page 690
        Page 691
        Page 692
        Page 693
    Aunt Deborah's lesson
        Page 694
        Page 695
        Page 696
    Timothy Timid
        Page 697
    Ready for business; or, choosing an occupation
        Page 698
        Page 699
        Page 700
    What it was
        Page 701
    Captain Jack's Fourth-of-July kite
        Page 702
        Page 703
    Tippie and Jimmie
        Page 704
    Number one
        Page 705
    Amusing the baby
        Page 706
    The brownies in the menagerie
        Page 707
        Page 708
        Page 709
    For very little folk: A letter from a little boy
        Page 710
        Page 711
        Page 712
        Page 713
    The letter-box
        Page 714
        Page 715
        Page 716
    The Agassiz association - Sixty-third report
        Page 717
        Page 718
    The riddle-box
        Page 719
        Page 720
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text

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JULY, 1886.

[Copyright, 1886, by THE CENTURY CO.]



ONE hundred and nine years ago, in the month
of February, 1777, a young French guardsman ran
away to sea.
And a most singular running away it was. He
did not wish to be a sailor, but he was so anxious
to go that he bought a ship to run away in,- for
he was a very wealthy young man; and though
he was only nineteen, he held a commission as
major-general in the armies of a land three
thousand miles away a land he had never seen
and the language of which he could not speak.
The King of France commanded him to remain
at home; his friends and relatives tried to restrain
him; and even the representatives, or agents, of
the country in defense of which he desired to fight
would not encourage his purpose. And when the
young man, while dining at the house of the
British Ambassador to France, openly avowed his
sympathy with a downtrodden people, and his de-
termination to help them gain their freedom, the
Ambassador acted quickly. At his request, the
rash young enthusiast was arrested by the French
Government, and orders were given to seize his
ship, which was awaiting him at Bordeaux. But
ship and owner both slipped away, and sailing
from the port of Pasajes in Spain, the runaway,
with eleven chosen companions, was soon on the
sea, bound for America, and beyond the reach of
both friends and foes.
On April 25, 1777, he landed at the little port
of Georgetown, at the mouth of the Great Pee
Dee river in South Carolina; and from that day
forward the career of Marie Jean Paul Roch Yves

Gilbert Motier, Marquis de La Fayette, has held
a place in the history of America, and in the in-
terest and affection of the American people.
When he first arrived in the land for which he
desired to fight, however, he found but a cool re-
ception. The Congress of the United States was
poor, and so many good and brave American of-
ficers who had proved their worth were desirous
of commissions as major-generals, that the com-
mission promised to this young Frenchman could
not easily be put in force so far as an actual com-
mand and a salary were concerned.
But the young general had come across the sea
for a purpose, and money and position were not
parts of that purpose. He expressed his desire to
serve in the American army upon two very singu-
lar conditions, namely: that he should receive no
pay, and that he should act as a volunteer. The
Congress was so impressed with the enthusiasm
and self-sacrifice of the young Frenchman that, on
July 31, 1777, it passed a resolution directing that
"his services be accepted and that, in consider-
ation of his zeal, illustrious family and connections,
he have the rank and commission of a Major-
General of the United States."
General Washington was greatly attracted by
the energy and earnestness of the young noble-
man. He took him into what was called his
"military family," assigned him to special and
honorable duty; and when the young volunteer
was wounded at the battle of Brandywine, the
Commander-in-Chief praised his "bravery and
military ardor so highly that the Congress gave


No. 9.


La Fayette the command of a division. Thus. be-
fore he was twenty, he was actually a general, and
already, as one historian says, he had "justified
the boyish rashness which his friends deplored and
his sovereign resented, and had acquired a place in
Notwithstanding General Washington's asser-
tion to Congress that La Fayette had made great
proficiency in our language," the young marquis's
pronunciation of English was far from perfect.
French, Spanish, and Italian were all familiar to

him, but his English was not readily understood
by the men he was called upon to command. It
was therefore necessary to find as his aid-de-
camp one who could quickly interpret the orders
of his commanding officer.
Such an aid was at last found in the person of
a certain young Connecticut adjutant on the regi-
mental staffofdashingBrigadier-General Wayne,-
"Mad Anthony Wayne, the hero of Stony Point.


This young adjutant was of almost the same age
as Lafayette; he had received, what was rare
enough in those old days, an excellent college
education, and he was said to be the only man in
the American army who could speak French and
English equally well.
These young men, General La Fayette and his
aid, grew very fond of each other during an intimate
acquaintance of nearly seven years. The French
marquis, with that overflow of spirits and outward
demonstration so noticeable in most Frenchmen,
freely showed his affection for the more reserved
American-often throwing his arms around his
neck, kissing him upon the cheek and calling him
"My brave, my good, my virtuous, my adopted
brother! "
After the battle of Monmouth, which occurred
on June 28, 1778, and in which La Fayette's com-
mand was engaged against the British forces, who
were routed, the marquis was enthusiastic in praise
of the gallant conduct of his friend and aid. Not
content with this, he sent to him some years after,
when the aid-de-camp, then a colonel in rank, was
elected to political honors, the following acrostic,
as a souvenir, expressive of the esteem and remem-
brance of his former commander. The initial let-
ters of each line of the poem will spell out for you
the name of this soldier friend of La Fayette. And
here is an exact copy of the acrostic and of the
postscript that accompanied it:
Sage of the East where wisdom rears her head,
Augustus, taught in virtue's path to tread,
'Mid thousands of his race, elected stands
Unanimous to legislative bands;
Endowed with every art to frame just laws,
Learns to hate vice, to virtue gives applause.
Augustus, oh, thy name that's ever dear
Unrivaled stands to crown each passing year .
Great are the virtues that exalt thy mind.
Unenvied merit marks thy worth refined.
Sincerely rigid for your country's right,
To save her Liberty you deigned to fight;
Undaunted courage graced your manly brow,
Secured such honors as the gods endow.-
Bright is the page; the record of thy days
Attracts my muse thus to rehearse thy praise.
Rejoice then, patriots, statesmen, all rejoice!
Kindle his praises with one general voice!
Emblazon out his deeds, his virtues prize,
Reiterate his praises to the skies !
P. S.-The Colonel will readily apologize for the inaccuracies of
an unskillful muse, and be convinced the high estimation of his ami-
able character could alone actuate the author of the foregoing.
So the name of the young general's friend and
aid-de-camp was Samuel Augustus Barker.

Years passed. The Revolution was over.
America was free. The French Revolution, with
all its horrors and successes, had made France a
republic. Napoleon had risen, conquered, ruled,


x886.] A CHILD'S

fallen, and died, and the first quarter of the nine-
teenth century was nearly completed, when, in
August, 1824, an old French gentleman who had
been an active participant in several of these his-
toric scenes arrived in New York. It was General
the Marquis de La Fayette, now a veteran of nearly
seventy, returning to America as the honored guest
of the growing and prosperous republic he had
helped to found.
His journey through the land was like a triumph.
Flowers and decorations brightened his path,
cheering people and booming cannon welcomed
his approach. And in one of those welcomings,
in a little village in Central New York, a cannon,
which was heavily loaded for a salute in honor of the
nation's guest, exploded, and killed a plucky young
fellow who had volunteered to "touch off" the over-
charged gun when no one else dared. Some
months after, the old marquis chanced to hear of
the tragedy, and at once his sympathies were
aroused for the widowed mother of the young man.
He at once wrote to the son of the man who
had been his comrade in arms in the revolutionary
days half a century before, asking full information
concerning the fatal accident, and the needs of the
mother of the poor young man who was killed; and
having thus learned all the facts, sent the sum of
one thousand dollars to relieve the mother's neces-
sities and to pay off the mortgage on her little home.
I have before me, as I write, the original letter
written by the General to the son of his old friend,
the paper marked and yellow with the creases of
sixty years; and as I read it again, I feel that of
all the incidents of the singularly eventful life of
La Fayette there are none that show his noble
nature more fully than those I have noted here:
his enthusiastic services in behalf of an oppressed

S FANCY. 645

people, his close and devoted affection for his
friend and comrade, and the impulsive generosity
of a heart that was at once manly, tender, and true.
And as I write, I am grateful that I can claim a
certain association with that honored name of La
Fayette; for the young adjutant to whom the
acrostic was addressed and the friend through
whom the gift to the widow was communicated
were respectively my grandfather and my father.
It is at least pleasant to know that one's ances-
tors were the intimate friends of so noble a man, of
whom one biographer has recently said: He was
brave even to rashness, his life was one of constant
peril, and yet he never shrank from any danger or
responsibility if he saw the way open to spare life
or suffering, to protect the defenseless, to sustain
law and preserve order."
At the southern extremity of Union Square, in
the city of New York, there is a bronze statue of
La Fayette. As you have already been told in
ST. NICHOLAS, it represents him in graceful pose
and with earnest face and gesture, making offer
of his sword to the country he admired -the
country that sorely needed his aid. The left hand
is extended as if in greeting and friendly self-sur-
render, and the right hand, which holds the sword,
is pressed against the breast, as if implying that
his whole heart goes with his sword." Lafayette's
words, As soon as I heard of American independ-
ence, my heart was enlisted," are inscribed upon
the pedestal of the statue ; and a short distance
from it, in the plaza adjoining the square, is an
equestrian statue of Washington. It is fitting that
the bronze images of those two great men should
thus be placed together, as the names of Washington
and La Fayette are forever coupled in the history
and in the affections of the American people.



THE meadow is a battle-field
Where Summer's army comes:
Each soldier with a clover shield,
The honey-bees with drums.
Boom, rat-tA!-they march and pass
The captain tree who stands
Saluting with a sword of grass
And giving the commands.
'T is only when the breezes blow
Across the woody hills,
They shoulder arms and, to and fro,
March in their full-dress drills.

Boom, rat-ta !- they wheel in line
And wave their gleaming spears.
SMarch!" cries the captain, giving sign,
And every soldier cheers.
But when the day is growing dim
They gather in their camps,
And sing a good thanksgiving hymn
Around their fire-fly lamps.
Ra-ta-t -the bugle-notes
Call good-night to the sky.-
I hope they all have overcoats
To keep them warm and dry !



HE truth was that Mrs. Errol had
found a great many sad things in
the course of her work among the
poor of the little village that ap-
peared so picturesque when it was
seen from the moor-sides. Every-
thing was not as picturesque, when
seen near by, as it looked from a distance. She
had found idleness and poverty and ignorance
where there should have been comfort and in-
dustry. And she had discovered, after a while, that
Erleboro was considered to be the worst village in
that part of the country. Mr. Mordaunt had told
her a great many of his difficulties and discour-
agements, and she had found out a great deal by
herself. The agents who had managed the prop-
erty had always been chosen to please the Earl,
and had cared nothing for the degradation and
wretchedness of the poor tenants. Many things,
therefore, had been neglected which should have
been attended to, and matters had gone from bad
to worse.
As to Earl's Court, it was a disgrace, with its
dilapidated houses and miserable, careless, sickly
people. When first Mrs. Errol went to the place,
it made her shudder. Such ugliness and sloven-
liness and want seemed worse in a country place
than in a city. It seemed as if there it might be
helped. And as she looked at the squalid, un-
cared-for children growing up in the midst of vice
and brutal indifference, she thought of her own
little boy spending his days in the great, splendid
castle, guarded and served like a young prince,
having no wish ungratified, and knowing nothing
but luxury and ease and beauty. And a bold
thought came into her wise little mother-heart.
Gradually she had begun to see, as had others,
that it had been her boy's good fortune to please
the Earl very much, and that he would scarcely
be likely to be denied anything for which he ex-
pressed a desire.
"The Earl would give him anything," she said
to Mr. Mordaunt. "He would indulge his every
whim. Why should not that indulgence be used
for the good of others? It is for me to see that
this shall come to pass."
She knew she could trust the kind, childish
heart; so she told the little fellow the story of
Earl's Court, feeling sure that he would speak of it

to his grandfather, and hoping that some good
results would follow.
And strange as it appeared to every one, good
results did follow. The fact was that the strong-
est power to influence the Earl was his grand-
son's perfect confidence in him-the fact that
Cedric always believed that his grandfather was
going to do what was right and generous. He
could not quite make up his mind to let him dis-
cover that he had no inclination to be generous
at all, and that he wanted his own way on all occa-
sions, whether it was right or wrong. It was
such a novelty to be regarded with admiration as
a benefactor of the entire human race, and the soul
of nobility, that he did not enjoy the idea of look-
ing into the affectionate brown eyes, and saying:
" I am a violent, selfish old rascal; I never did
a generous thing in my life, and I don't care about
Earl's Court or the poor people"-or something
which would amount to the same thing. He actually
had learned to be fond enough of that small boy
with the mop of yellow love-locks, to feel that he
himself would prefer to be guilty of an amiable ac-
tion now and then. And so-though he laughed at
himself- after some reflection, he sent for Newick,
and had quite a long interview with him on the
subject of the Court, and it was decided that the
wretched hovels should be pulled down and new
houses should be built.
"It is Lord Fauntleroy who insists on it," he
said dryly; he thinks it will improve the prop-
erty. You can tell the tenants that it 's his idea."
And he looked down at his small lordship, who
was lying on the hearth-rug playing with Dougal.
The great dog was the lad's constant companion,
and followed him about everywhere, stalking
solemnly after him when he walked, and trotting
majestically behind when he rode or drove.
Of course, both the country people and the
town people heard of the proposed improvement.
At first, many of them would not believe it; but
when a small army of workmen arrived and com-
menced pulling down the crazy, squalid cottages,
people began to understand that little Lord Faunt-
leroy had done them a good turn again, and that
through his innocent interference the scandal of
Earl's Court had at last been removed. If he had
only known how they talked about him and praised
him everywhere, and prophesied great things for
him when he grew up, how astonished he would
have been! But he never suspected it. He lived






his simple, happy child life,-frolicking about in
the park; chasing the rabbits to their burrows;
lying under the trees on the grass, or on the rug
in the library, reading wonderful books and talking
to the Earl about them, and then telling the sto-
ries again to.his mother; writing long letters to
Dick and Mr. Hobbs, who responded in character-
istic fashion ; riding out at his grandfather's side,
or with Wilkins as escort. As they rode through
the market town, he used to see the people turn
and look, and he noticed that as they lifted their

I _

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hats their faces often brightened very much, but
he thought it was all because his grandfather was
with him.
They are so fond of you," he once said, look-
ing up at his lordship with a bright smile. Do
you see how glad they are when they see you? I
hope they will some day be as fond of me. It
must be nice to have everybody like you." And
he felt quite proud to be the grandson of so greatly
admired and beloved an individual.
When the cottages were being built, the lad
and his grandfather used to ride over to Earl's
Court together to look at them, and Fauntleroy
was full of interest. He would dismount from his
pony and go and make acquaintance with the
workman, asking them questions about building
and bricklaying, and telling them things about

America. After two or three such conversations,
he was able to enlighten the Earl on the subject
of brickmaking, as they rode home.
I always like to know about things like those,"
he said, "because you never know what you are
coming to."
When he left them, the workmen used to talk him
over among themselves, and laugh at his odd, in-
nocent speeches ; but they liked him, and liked to
see him stand among them, talking away, with his
hands in his pockets, his hat pushed back on his
curls, and his small face full of eagerness. He's
a rare un," they used to say. "An' a woise little
outspoken chap too. Not much o' th' bad stock in
him." And they would go home and tell their
wives about him, and the women would tell each
other, and so it came about that almost every one
talked of, or knew some story of, little Lord Faun-
tleroy; and gradually almost every one knew that
the wicked Earl had found something he cared
for at last -somethingwhich had touched and even
warmed his hard, bitter old heart.
But no one knew quite how much it had been
warmed, and how day by day the old man found
himself caring more and more for the child, who
was the only creature that had ever trusted him.
He found himself looking forward to the time when
Cedric would be a young man, strong and beautiful,
with life all before him, but having still that kind
heart and the power to make friends everywhere;
and the Earl wondered what the lad would do, and
how he would use his gifts. Often as he watched
the little fellow lying upon the hearth, conning
some big book, the light shining on the bright
young head, his old eyes would gleam and his
cheek would flush.
"The boy can do anything," he would say to
himself, "anything! "
He never spoke to any one else of his feeling
for Cedric; when he spoke of him to others it was
always with the same grim smile. But Fauntleroy
soon knew that his grandfather loved him and
always liked him to be near-near to his chair if
they were in the library, opposite to him at table,
or by his side when he rode or drove or took his
evening walk on the broad terrace.
Do you remember," Cedric said once, looking
up from his book as he lay on the rug, "do you re-
member what I said to you that first night about
our being good companions? I don't think any
people could be better companions than we are, do
We are pretty good companions, I should say,"
replied his lordship. Come here."
Fauntleroy scrambled up and went to him.
Is there anything you want," the Earl asked;
"anything you have not ? "


: 1


The little fellow's brown eyes fixed themselves
on his grandfather with a rather wistful look.
Only one thing," he answered.
"What is that? inquired the Earl.
Fauntleroy was silent a second. He had not
thought matters over to himself so long for noth-
What is it? my lord repeated.
Fauntleroy answered.
It is Dearest," he said.
The old Earl'winced a little.
"But you see her almost every day," he said.
" Is not that enough ? "
I used to see her all the time," said Fauntle-
roy. She used to kiss me when I went to sleep
at night, and in the morning she was always there,
and we could tell each other things without wait-
The old eyes and the young ones looked into
each other through a moment of silence. Then
the Earl knitted his brows.
Do you never forget about your mother ? he
"No," answered Fauntleroy, "never; and she
never forgets about me. I should n't forget about
you, you know, if I didn't live with you. I should
think about you all the more."
Upon my word," said the Earl, after looking
at him a moment longer, I believe you would!"
The jealous pang that came when the boy spoke
so of his mother seemed even stronger than it had
been before-it was stronger because of this old
man's increasing affection for the boy.
But it was not long before he had other pangs, so
much harder to face that he almost forgot, for the
time, he had ever hated his son's wife at all. And
in a strange and startling way it happened. One
evening, just before the Earl's Court cottages were
completed, there was a grand dinner party at Dorin-
court. There had not been such a party at the
Castle for a long time. A few days before it took
place, Sir Harry Lorridaile and Lady Lorridaile,
who was the Earl's only sister, actually came for
a visit-a thing which caused the greatest excite-
ment in the village and set Mrs. Dibble's shop-
bell tingling madly again, because it was well
known that Lady Lorridaile had only been to Dor-
incourt once since her marriage, thirty-five years
before. She was a handsome old lady with white
curls and dimpled, peachy cheeks, and she was as
good as gold, but she had never approved of her
brother any more than did the rest of the world,
and having a strong will of her own and not being
at all afraid to speak her mind frankly, she had,
after several lively quarrels with his lordship, seen
very little of him since her young days.
She had heard a great deal of him that was not

pleasant through the years in which they had been
separated. She had heard about his neglect of his
wife, and of the poor lady's death; and of his in-
difference to his children; and of the two weak,
vicious, unprepossessing elder boys who had been
no credit to him or to any one else. Those two
elder sons, Bevis and Maurice, she had never seen ;
but once there had come to Lorridaile Park a tall,
stalwart, beautiful young fellow about eighteen
years old who had told her that he was her nephew
Cedric Errol, and that he had come to see her be-
cause he was passing near the place and wished to
look at his Aunt Constantia of whom he had
heard his mother speak. Lady Lorridaile's kind
heart had warmed through and through at the sight
of the young man, and she had made him stay
with her a week, and petted him, and made much
of him and admired him immensely. He was so
sweet-tempered, light-hearted, spirited a lad, that
when he went away, she had hoped to see him
often again; but she never did, because the Earl
had been in a bad humor when he went back to
Dorincourt, and had forbidden him ever to go to
Lorridaile Park again. But Lady Lorridaile had
always remembered him tenderly, and though she
feared he had made a rash marriage in America,
she had been very angry when she heard how he
had been cast off by his father and that no one really
knew where or how he lived. At last there came a
rumor of his death, and then Bevis had been thrown
from his horse and killed, and Maurice had died in
Rome of the fever; and soon after came the story
of the American child who was to be found and
brought home as Lord Fauntleroy.
Probably to be ruined as the others were," she
said to her husband, unless his mother is good
enough and has a will of her own to help her to
take care of him."
But when she heard that Cedric's mother had
been parted from him she was almost too indignant
for words.
It is disgraceful, Harry she said. "Fancy
a child of that age being taken from his mother,
and made the companion of a man like my
brother The old Earl will either be brutal to the
boy or indulge him until he is a little monster.
If I thought it would do any good to write-- "
It would n't, Constantia," said Sir Harry.
I know it would n't," she answered. ',' I know
his lordship the Earl of Dorincourt too well;-but
it is outrageous."
Not only the poor people and farmers heard
about little Lord Fauntleroy; others knew of him.
He was talked about so much and there were so
many stories of him-of his beauty, his sweet
temper, his popularity, and his growing influence
over the Earl, his grandfather-that rumors of him




reached the gentry at their country places and
he was heard of in more than one county of Eng-
land. People talked about him at the dinner tables,
ladies pitied his young mother, and wondered if the

-' [: : L

in his lordship's amiability. Sir Thomas Asshe of
Asshaine Hall, being in Erleboro one day, met the
Earl and his grandson riding together and stopped
to shake hands with my lord and congratulate him

\ 7,

I'. -r '
r i


boy were as handsome as he was said to be, and on his change of looks and on his recovery from the
men who knew the Earl and his habits laughed gout. "And, d 'ye know !" he said, when he spoke
heartily at the stories of the little fellow's belief of the incident afterward, "the old man looked as




proud as a turkey-cock; and upon my word I don't
wonder, for a handsomer, finer lad than his grand-
son I never saw As straight as a dart, and sat
his pony like a young trooper!"
And so by degrees Lady Lorridaile, too, heard of
the child; she heard about Higgins, and the
lame boy, and the cottages at Earl's Court, and a
score of other things,-and she began to wish to
see the little fellow. And just as she was wondering
how it might be brought about, to her utter aston-
ishment, she received a letter from her brother
inviting her to come with her husband to Dorin-
It seems incredible!" she exclaimed. :' I
have heard it said that the child has worked mira-
cles, and I begin to believe it. They say my
brother adores the boy and can scarcely endure to
have him out of sight. And he is so proud of
him Actually, I believe he wants to show him to
us." And she accepted the invitation at once.
When she reached Dorincourt Castle with Sir
Harry, it was late in the afternoon, and she went
to her room at once before seeing her brother.
Having dressed for dinner she entered the drawing-
room. The Earl was there standing near the fire
and looking very tall and imposing; and at his side
stood a little boy in black velvet, and a large Van-
dyke collar of rich lace a little fellow whose
round bright face was so handsome, and who turned
upon her such beautiful, candid brown eyes, that
she almost uttered an exclamation of pleasure and
surprise at the sight.
As she shook hands with the Earl, she called him
by the name she had not used since her girlhood.
What, Molyneux," she said, "is this the
child ?"
Yes, Constantia," answered the Earl, this is
the boy. Fauntleroy, this is your grand-aunt,
Lady Lorridaile."
How do you do, Grand-Aunt? said Fauntle-
Lady Lorridaile put her hand on his shoulders,
and after looking down into his upraised face a few
seconds, kissed him warmly.
I am your Aunt Constantia," she said, and
I loved your poor papa, and you are very like
"It makes me glad when I am told I am like
him," answered Fauntleroy, because it seems as if
every one liked him,-just like Dearest, eszackly,--
Aunt Constantia," (adding the two words after a
second's pause.)
Lady Lorridaile was delighted. She bent and
kissed him again, and from that moment they
were warm friends.
Well, Molyneux," she said aside to the Earl after-
ward, it could not possibly be better than this!"

"I think not," answered his lordship dryly.
" He is a fine little fellow. We are great friends.
He believes me to be the most charming and sweet-
tempered of philanthropists. I will confess to you,
Constantia,-as you would find it out if I did not,-
that I am in some slight danger of becoming
rather an old fool about him."
"What does his mother think of you?" asked
Lady Lorridaile, with her usual straightforwardness.
"I have not asked her," answered the Earl,
slightly scowling.
Well," said Lady Lorridaile, I will be frank
with you at the outset, Molyneux, and tell you I
don't approve of your course, and that it is my
intention to call on Mrs. Errol as soon as possible;
so if you wish to quarrel with me, you had better
mention it at once. What I hear of the young
creature makes me quite sure that her child owes
her everything. We were told even at Lorridaile
Park that your poorer tenants adore her already."
They adore him," said the Earl, nodding to-
ward Fauntleroy. As to Mrs. Errol, you '11 find
her a pretty little woman. I 'm rather in debt to
her for giving some of her beauty to the boy, and
you can go to see her if you like. All I ask is that
she will remain at Court Lodge and that you will
not ask me to go and see her," and he scowled a
little again.
But he does n't hate her as much as he used
to, that is plain enough to me," her ladyship said
to Sir Harry afterward. "And he is a changed
man in a measure, and, incredible as it may seem,
Harry, it is my opinion that he is being made into
a human being, through nothing more nor less
than his affection for that innocent, affectionate
little fellow. Why, the child actually loves him-
leans on his chair and against his knee. My lord's
own children would as soon have thought of nest-
ling up to a tiger."
The very next day she went to call upon
Mrs. Errol. When she returned, she said to her
Molyneux, she is the loveliest 'little woman I
ever saw She has a voice like a silver bell, and
you may thank her for making the boy what he is.
She has given him more than her beauty, and you
make a great mistake in not persuading her to
come and take charge ofyou. I shall invite her to
She '11 not leave the boy," replied the Earl.
I must have the boy too," said Lady Lorri-
daile, laughing.
But she knew Fauntleroy would not be given up
to her, and each day she saw more clearly how
closely those two had grown to each other, and how
all the proud, grim old man's ambition and hope
and love centered themselves in the child, and how



the warm, innocent nature returned his affection
with most perfect trust and good faith.
She knew, too, that the prime reason for the great
dinner party was the Earl's secret desire to show
the world his grandson and heir, and to let people
see that the boy who had been so much spoken of
and described was even a finer little specimen of
boyhood than rumor had made him.
Bevis and Maurice were such a bitter humilia-
tion to him," she said to her husband. Every
one knew it. He actually hated them. His pride
has full sway here." Perhaps there was not one
person who accepted the invitation without feeling
some curiosity about little Lord Fauntleroy, and
wondering if he would be on view.
And when the time came he was on view.
"The lad has good manners," said the Earl.
" He will be in no one's way. Children are usually
idiots or bores,-mine were both,-but he can
actually answer when he's spoken to, and be silent
when he is not. He is never offensive."
But he was not allowed to be silent very long.
Every one had something to say to him. The fact
was they wished to make him talk. The ladies
petted him and asked him questions, and the men
asked him questions too, and joked with him, as
the men on the steamer had done when he crossed
the Atlantic. Fauntleroy did not quite understand
why they laughed so sometimes when he answered
them, but he was so used to seeing people amused
when he was quite serious, that he did not mind.
He thought the whole evening delightful. The
magnificent rooms were so brilliant with lights,
there were so many flowers, the gentlemen seemed
so gay, and the ladies wore such beautiful, won-
derful dresses, and such sparkling ornaments in
their hair and on their necks. There was one
young lady who, he heard them say, had just come
down from London, where she had spent the
"season"; and she was so charming that he
could not keep his eyes from her. She was a rather
tall young lady with a proud little head, and
very soft dark hair, and large eyes the color of
purple pansies, and the color on her cheeks and
lips was like that of a rose. She was dressed in a
beautiful white dress, and had pearls around her
throat. There was one strange thing about this
young lady. So many gentlemen stood near her,
and seemed anxious to please her, that Fauntleroy
thought she must be something like a princess.
He was so much interested in her that without
knowing it he drew nearer and nearer to her and
at last she turned and spoke to him.
Come here, Lord Fauntleroy," she said, smil-
ing; and tell me why you look at me so."
I was thinking how beautiful you are," his
young lordship replied.

Then all the gentlemen laughed outright, and
the young lady laughed a little too, and the rose
color in her cheeks brightened.
Ah, Fauntleroy," said one of the gentlemen
who had laughed most heartily, make the most
of your time When you are older you will not
have the courage to say that."
But nobody could help saying it," said Faun-
tleroy sweetly. Could you help it? Don't you
think she is pretty too? "
We are not allowed to say what we think,"
said the gentleman, while the rest laughed more
than ever.
But the beautiful young lady-her name was
Miss Vivian Herbert-put out her hand and drew
Cedric to her side, looking prettier than before, if
Lord Fauntleroy shall say what he thinks,"
she said; and I am much obliged to him. I am
sure he thinks what he says." And she kissed
him on his cheek.
I think you are prettier than any one I ever
saw," said Fauntleroy, looking at her with inno-
cent, admiring eyes, "except Dearest. Of course,
I could n't think any one quite as pretty as Dear-
est. I think she is the prettiest person in the
I am sure she is," said Miss Vivian Herbert.
And she laughed and kissed his cheek again.
She kept him by her side a great part of the
evening, and the group of which they were the
center was very gay. He did not know how it
happened, but before long he was telling them all
about America, and the Republican Rally, and
Mr. Hobbs and Dick, and in the end he proudly
produced from his pocket Dick's parting gift,-
the red silk handkerchief.
I put it in my pocket to-night because it was
a party," he said. I thought Dick would like
me to wear it at a party."
And queer as the big, flaming, spotted thing
was, there was a serious, affectionate look in his
eyes, which prevented his audience from laughing
very much.
"You see I like it," he said, "because Dick is
my friend."
But though he was talked to so much, as the
Earl had said, he was in no one's way. He could
be quiet and listen when others talked, and so no
one found him tiresome. A slight smile crossed
more than one face when several times he went
and stood near his grandfather's chair, or sat on a
stool close to him, watching him and absorbing
every word he uttered with the most charmed in-
terest. Once he stood so near the chair's arm that
his cheek touched the Earl's shoulder, and his
lordship, detecting the general smile, smiled a little


himself. He knew what the lookers-on were
thinking, and he felt some secret amusement in
their seeing what a good friend he was to this
youngster, who might have been expected to share
the popular opinion of him.
Mr. Havisham had been expected to arrive in
the afternoon, but, strange to say, he was late.
Such a thing had really never been known to hap-
pen before during all the years in which he had
been a visitor at Dorincourt Castle. He was so
late that the guests were on the point of rising to
go in to dinner when he arrived. When he ap-
proached his host, the Earl regarded him with
amazement. He looked as if he had been hurried
or agitated; his dry, keen old face was actually pale.
I was detained," he said, in a low voice to the
Earl, "by-an extraordinary event."
It was as unlike the methodic old lawyer to be
agitated by anything as it was to be late, but it was
evident that he had been disturbed. At dinner he
ate scarcely anything, and two or three times, when
he was spoken to, he started as if his thoughts were
far away. At dessert, when Fauntleroy came in,
he looked at him more than once, nervously and
uneasily. Fauntleroy noted the look and won-
dered at it. He and Mr. Havisham were on friendly
terms, and they usually exchanged smiles. The
lawyer seemed to have forgotten to smile that
The fact was he forgot everything but the strange
and painful news he knew he must tell the Earl be-
fore the night was over the strange news which
he knew would be so terrible a shock, and which
would change the face of everything. As he looked
about at the splendid rooms and the brilliant com-
pany,- at the people gathered together, he knew,
more that they might see the bright-haired little
fellow near the Earl's chair than for any other rea-
son,-as he looked at the proud old man and at
little Lord Fauntleroy smiling at his side, he really
felt quite shaken, notwithstanding that he was a
hardened old lawyer. What a blow it was that he
must deal them!
He did not -exactly know how the long, superb
dinner ended. He sat through it as if he were in
a dream, and several times he saw the Earl glance
at him in surprise.
But it was over at last, and the gentlemen joined
the ladies in the drawing-room. They found
Fauntleroy sitting on a sofa with Miss Vivian Her-
bert,- the great beauty of the last London sea-
son; they had been looking at some pictures, and
he was thanking his companion, as the door
"I 'm ever so much obliged to you for being
so kind to me!" he was saying; "I never was at
a party before, and I've enjoyed myself so much "

He had enjoyed himself so much that when the
gentlemen gathered about Miss Herbert again and
began to talk to her, as he listened and tried to
understand their laughing speeches, his eyelids
began to droop. They drooped until they covered
his eyes two or three times, and then the sound of
Miss Herbert's low, pretty laugh would bring him
back, and he would open them again for about two
seconds. He was quite sure he was not going to
sleep, but there was a large, yellow satin cushion
behind him and his head sank against it, and after
a while his eyelids drooped for the last time. They
did not even quite open when, as it seemed a long
time after, some one kissed him lightly on the
cheek. It was Miss Vivian Herbert, who was go-
ing away, and she spoke to him softly.
Good-night, little Lord Fauntleroy," she said.
"Sleep well."
And in the morning he did not know that he had
tried to open his eyes and had murmured sleepily,
Good-night I'm so glad- I saw you-you
are so pretty -- "
He only had a very faint recollection of hearing
the gentlemen laugh again and of wondering why
they did it.

o sooner had the last
guest left the room,
than Mr. Havisham
e. turned from his place
by the fire, and stepped
nearer the sofa, where
he stood looking down
at the sleeping occu-
pant. Little Lord
Fauntleroy was taking
his ease luxuriously.
One leg crossed the
o. their and swung over
the edge of the sofa; one arm was
flung easily above his head; the warm flush of
healthful, happy, childish sleep was on his quiet
face; his waving tangle of bright hair strayed over
the yellow satin cushion. He made a picture well
worth looking at.
As Mr. Havisham looked at it, he put his hand
up and rubbed his shaven chin, with a harassed
"Well, Havisham," said the Earl's harsh voice
behind him. "What is it ? It is evident something
has happened. What was the extraordinary event,
if I may ask ?"
Mr. Havisham turned from the sofa, still rubbing
his chin.
It was bad news," he answered, "distressing
news, my lord--the worst ofnews. I am sorry to
be the bearer of it."



The Earl had been uneasy for some time du-
ring the evening, as he glanced at Mr. Havisham,
and when he was uneasy he was always ill-tem-
Why do you look so at the boy!" he exclaimed
irritably. You have been looking at him all the
evening as if -See here now, why should you look
at the boy, Havisham, and hang over him like
some bird of ill-omen! What has your news to do
with Lord Fauntleroy ? "
My lord," said Mr. Havisham, "I will waste
no words. My news has everything to do with
Lord Fauntleroy. And if we are to believe it-it
is not Lord Fauntleroy who lies sleeping before us,
but only the son of Captain Errol. And the
present Lord Fauntleroy is the son of your son
Bevis, and is at this moment in a lodging-house in
The Earl clutched the arms of his chair with
both his hands until the veins stood out upon them;
the veins stood out on his forehead too; his fierce
old face was almost livid.
What do you mean he cried out. You
are mad Whose lie is this ? "
If it is a lie," answered Mr. Havisham, it is
painfully like the truth. A woman came to my
chambers this morning. She said your son Bevis
married her six years ago in London. She showed
me her marriage certificate. They quarreled a
year after the marriage, and he paid her to keep
away from him. She has a son five years old.
She is an American of the lower classes,-an
ignorant person,-and until lately she did not fully
understand what her son could claim. She con-
sulted a lawyer and found out that the boy was
really Lord Fauntleroy and the heir to the earl-
dom of Dorincourt; and she, of course, insists
on his claims being acknowledged."
There was a movement of the curly head on the
yellow satin cushion. A soft, long, sleepy sigh
came from the parted lips, and the little boy stirred
in his sleep, but not at all restlessly or uneasily.
Not at all as if his slumber were disturbed by the
fact that he was being proved a small impostor and
that he was not Lord Fauntleroy at all and never
would be the Earl of Dorincourt. He only turned
his rosy face more on its side as if to enable the
old man who stared at it so solemnly to see it
The handsome, grim old face was ghastly. A
bitter smile fixed itself upon it.
"I should refuse to believe a word of it," he
said, "if it were not such a low, scoundrelly piece
of business that it becomes quite possible in con-
nection with the name of my son Bevis. It is quite
like Bevis. He was always a disgrace to us. Always
a weak, untruthful, vicious young brute with low


tastes-my son and heir, Bevis, Lord Fauntleroy.
The woman is an ignorant, vulgar person, you
I am obliged to admit that she can scarcely
spell her own name," answered the lawyer. She
is absolutely uneducated and openly mercenary.
She cares for nothing but the money. She is very
handsome in a coarse way, but-"
The fastidious old lawyer ceased speaking and
gave a sort of shudder.
The veins on the old Earl's forehead stood out
like purple cords. Something else stood out upon
it too-cold drops of moisture. He took out his
handkerchief and swept them away. His smile
grew even more bitter.
"And I," he said, I objected to-to the other
woman, the mother of this child" (pointing to the
sleeping form on the sofa); "I refused to recognize
her. And yet she could spell her own name. I
suppose this is retribution."
Suddenly he sprang up from his chair and began
to walk up and down the room. Fierce and terri-
ble words poured forth from his lips. His rage and
hatred and cruel disappointment shook him as a
storm shakes a tree. His violence was something
dreadful to see, and yet Mr. Havisham noticed that
at the very worst of his wrath he never seemed
to forget the little sleeping figure on the yellow
satin cushions, and that he never once spoke loud
enough to awaken it.
"I might have known it," he said. They were
a disgrace to me from their first hour I hated
them both; and they hated me Bevis was the
worse of the two. I will not believe this yet, though!
I will contend against it to the last. But it is like
Bevis- it is like him "
And then he raged again and asked questions
about the woman, about her proofs, and pacing
the room, turned first white and then purple in his
repressed fury.
When at last he had learned all there was to be
told, and knew the worst, Mr. Havisham looked at
him with a feeling of anxiety. He looked broken
and haggard and changed. His rages had always
been bad for him, but this one had been worse than
the rest because there had been something more
than rage in it.
He came slowly back to the sofa, at last, and
stood near it.
If any one had told me I could be fond of a
child," he said, his harsh voice low and unsteady,
I should not have believed them. I always de-
tested children-my own more than the rest. I am
fond of this one; he is fond of me," (with a bitter
smile.) I am not popular; I never was. But he
is fond of me. He never was afraid of me-he
always trusted me. He would have filled my place


better than I have filled it. I know that. He the bright hair back from the forehead, and then
would have been an honor to the name." turned away and rang the bell.
He bent down and stood a minute or so looking When the largest footman appeared, he pointed
at the happy, sleeping face. His shaggy eyebrows to the sofa.
were knitted fiercely, and yet somehow he did not Take "-he said, and then his voice changed a
seem fierce at all. He put up his hand, pushed little-" take Lord Fauntleroy to his room."
(To be continued.)


BY M. M. D.
-- e

THREE velvety, busy, buzzing bees
Once plunged in a thistle plant up to their knees.
Alas Though plucky and stout of heart,
They bounded away with an angry start.
For the thistle 's the touchiest thing that grows;
It 's the firework plant -as every one knows.
And every buzzer should pass it by
On the day that is known as the Fourth of July.







THERE was once a boy who thought that he
could choose his birthday present more wisely than
could his father and mother. He wanted an "arrow
rifle "-a useless affair which has long since gone
to the place where toys which are failures go.
He was disappointed however. His birthday
brought him not an arrow rifle," but a light,
jointed fishing-rod. Now this boy had already
done some fishing with a heavy bamboo pole, or
with one cut from an alder, jerking the fish out of the
water, and swinging them over his head. To be
sure the heavy pole made his arms ache, but his
new rod, which bent at every touch, seemed to
him too slender and flimsy to be of any use what-
I fear he was not very grateful at first, but he
was properly rebuked when his father took a day
from professional cares, and opened the lad's eyes to
the pleasure of fishing with light tackle. When he
had learned to cast" flies with his elastic, strong
rod, without hooking somebody or something not
meant to be hooked; when he had seen the beauti-
ful vermilion-spotted trout flash clear of the water,
tempted by the flies; and when he had found that
he could tire out and land larger fish than he had
ever caught before, simply by pitting against their
cunning and strength, skill and patience instead
of mere brute force,- then there was opened to
that boy a new world of sport and healthy recre-
ation. He has never regretted the arrow rifle ";
and he now proposes to tell the boys as well as
the girls who read ST. NICHOLAS how to obtain
something which is within the reach of both,-
the greatest possible pleasure from fishing.
If one could take a bird's-eye view of our coun-
try at any time in the summer, he would see boys
and girls catching all kinds of fish in all kinds of
ways; some off the coast in sailboats, tugging at
bluefish or mackerel, others profiting by ST.
NICHOLAS'S lessons in black-bass fishing, some
" skittering for pickerel in New England lakes,
others trolling for pike in the lakes and rivers of the
West. But of all the fresh-water game fish there
is none more beautiful and graceful or more active
than the trout.
Any New York boy who has never caught a trout
should go down to Fulton Market at the opening
of the trout season, when trout are gathered
there from all parts of the country. He will
see rainbow trout from the Rocky Mountains,
their sides iridescent, and stained as if marked by

bloody finger. These are being introduced into
Eastern waters. He will find trout in the blackest
of mourning robes and others gayly dressed in sil-
ver tinsel. Sometimes the vermilion spots on the
side shine like fire; again they are as dull as if the

fire had gone out and left only gray ashes. For
there are several varieties of trout known to natu-
ralists and traveled fishermen, and even the brook
trout, called by the formidable name of Salmo
fontinalis, varies greatly in color and shape in
different localities. In Arizona, I have caught
trout which were fairly black. In Dublin Lake in
New Hampshire, the trout look like bars of pol-
ished silver as they are drawn up through the water.
I never saw a more sharply marked contrast than
that between the trout of two little Maine lakes,
near the head-waters of the Androscoggin River.
In one, the trout were long, and as thin as race-
horses, and their flesh was of a salmon-pink hue; in
the other, not half a mile away, the trout were short,
thick, and almost hump-backed, with darker skins
and lighter flesh. The first lake had a sandy, grav-
elly bottom, and the water was clear as crystal;
the bottom of the second was muddy, and the
water dark and turbid. This explained the differ-
ence in the fish, a difference always existing in

"- .--\ l-


trout of brooks or lakes under the same conditions.
In the great Androscoggin Lakes of Maine, the
trout, which are brook trout, grow to the largest
size known anywhere. They have been caught
weighing twelve pounds, and many claimed that



they were
they were
jaws; but
or even from
of the Britis
lighter color
trutta. All
quaint hin
kinds of
excite a curi
him. Only
can he prop
And even
the trout's
adds to th
would bite
as hooked,
study the
proach one
safely to lan
net. The
and yet it
breaking, ar
soon be we
it will not he
attempts to
ash and lance
made of foi
carefully fit
ener it has
Indeed, An
also the fin
bamboo fly
rod which I
butt, and tl
ten feet and
a rod can
able because
rods nice ti
keep what
for either fl
is usually u
probably be


lake trout, until the famous naturalist Agassiz decided that, although living in lakes,
true brook trout. These immense trout have very thick bodies and cruel hooked
the guides can point out many contrasts between trout from different lakes,
different parts of the same lake. There are trout nearly as large in the rivers
h Provinces, Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, and Quebec, but these are usually
ed, and they are quite another variety, being known as sea trout, or Salno
this adds to the interest of trout-fishing by inducing the angler to ac-
nself with what the Natural Histories have to tell him about the various
trout. Then the differences in one kind teach him to be observant and
osity as \ to the habits of the trout. Here the Natural Histories will fail
by fol- lowing trout brooks and tempting the larger trout of lakes,
early study the ways and curious moods of this cunning, timid fish.
then, if he be modest, he will often confess himself sadly puzzled; for
vits are some- times more than a match for the fisherman's. And this
e pleasure of trout-fishing; for if one had to deal with a fish which
at any bait, un- der any circumstances, and give up the fight as soon
the sport would soon grow very stupid. In trout-fishing, one will
best conditions of \wind, weather, and water, and learn how to ap-
of the shyest of fish, how to delude one of the most wary, and how
d one of the pluckiest. To do this it is necessary to have reliable
a term which includes rod, reel, line, leaders, flies, and landing-
rod must be so light that one can cast with it easily and persistently,
must be strong enough to bend into all manner of curves without
id to tire out large trout. If it is too stiff, the fisherman's arm will
aried, and if it is too flexible or withy, it will not cast flies well, and
old fish firmly if the angler needs to bring a strain upon them. In
meet these requirements, fly rods have been made of split bamboo,
ewood,bethabara, greenheart, cedar, hickory, hornbeam, iron-wood,
shadbloww and perhaps twenty other \ woods, and there have even been
Sin making rods of thin steel tubes. \The split bamboo rods are
ur or six triangular strips cut from the\ rind of Calcutta bamboo and
ted and glued together. Sometimes the \surface is rounded, but oft-
six sides. These rods, when they are really good, are the best of all.
lericans may justly claim to make the finest rods in the world and
est lines. But I should not advise any of my readers to buy a split
rod, because these rods are very expensive, they \require very careful
and if broken they must go back to the maker to \ berepaired. Thefly
recommend to the boys and girls of ST. NICHOLAS is one with an ash
ie second joint and tip of lance-wood. It should be \from ten feet to
I a half in length, and should weigh about seven ounces andahalf. Such
be obtained from any reliable dealer in any large city. I emphasizereli-
;e there are fishing-tackle stores where one may get
o look at, but worthless to use. Nearly l- al aie\ a!! dealers
is called an "all around" rod, intended ol- a, L.. ,a,,r,
y or bait fishing, but this, like most com- -r--.r. a' .n-s
satisfactory. This, or something like *. + a. .,I1
Shown you if you ask for a boy's rod, so I -- -.-" ', ,. "h ht

is better to tell the dealer or rod-maker exactly what .' ,
you want, and to accept nothing else. If he takes a
pride in his work and has a reputation to sustain,
he will interest himself in picking out a rod of sound,
well-seasoned wood, evenly balanced, elastic, with
a good action, and a peculiar "kick" in the second
joint, which is of great service in casting a fly. If

....- -

04 ,



~w -

*-~ k


some one can help you in making your choice, so
much the better. Then it will be well to attach a
reel and line to the rod and try it in actual casting,
if this is possible; and when the rod is bent, see
that the bend is an even curve. The pleasure of
fly-fishing depends upon the quality of the rod, and
the choice should therefore be made deliberately
and wisely. Some fishermen make their own rods,
and there are dealers who supply materials for
amateur rod-makers; but this is a difficult under-
taking and can not be described here.* I should
advise any boy to go to a professional maker for
his first fly rod.
The "enameled water-proof" lines are the best.
These are braided from boiled silk, and prepared
to resist the action of water, which will cause the
decay of an ordinary line. Of the various sizes,
which are distinguished by letters, that known as
F is perhaps most desirable, although either E
or F will answer the purpose. The line should be
"level," not tapering, and at least twenty-five
yards in length. This will be wound upon a
"click" reel of equal capacity, preferably nickel-
plated. But this is of less importance than the

internal construction of the reel, for which you
should have the maker's guarantee. Now come
the flies. There are names enough to fill a direc-
tory, and a greater variety of colors than the
woods show in autumn. A few flies like the
"Montreal," "Professor," "Scarlet Ibis," "Coach-
man,"and "the Hackles," are to be found in almost
every angler's book. For the rest, it will be well
to learn, from some experienced angler or intelli-
gent dealer, the flies best suited to the particu-
lar waters which you intend to fish. At the
Rangeley lakes, for example, you will find that
large, gaudy flies are much used, like the "Par-
machenee Belle," "Silver and Golden Doctor," and
" Grizzly King," and there is one local fly called the
"Katoodle Bug." In the Adirondacks, smaller flies
of quieter colors are favored. For brook-fishing,
very small flies of neutral tints are much used ex-
cept when the water is very dark. A fly-book will
be needed to contain flies and also leaders. The
leader is a piece of "silk-worm gut," which should
be about six feet in length. One end is fastened to
the line, and the stretcher-fly is made fast at the
other. One or two other flies, called droppers, are

*" Fly Rods and Fly Tackle," by Mr. H. P. Wells, explains methods of making and repairing rods and other tackle, and gives
much valuable instruction in fly-fishing.
VOL. XIII.-42.



; ,,,




usually attached at intervals of two feet or more the first cast, take the end of the line in the left
along the leader. Before making your choice, the hand, and bring the rod upward and backward
leaders should be closely examined to see whether until the line is taut. As you release the line, the
spring of the rod carries the
line backward. This is the
back cast. Then comes an
instant's pause, while the line
straightens itself out behind,
.-Y and then, with a firm motion
of the wrist, helped a little by
the forearm, the rod is thrown
S.forward, and the line flies easily
out in front. Begin with a line
*- once or once-and-a-half as long
as the rod, and lengthen it out
by degrees. The main points
TROUT FLIES. to be remembered are: to keep
the elbow at the side, to train
any part is frayed or cracked. They can be tested the wrist, to move the rod not too far forward or
by a pull of four or five pounds on a spring back, always to wait until the line is straight be-
balance. The leader is used as being less con- hind on the back cast, and to make sure that in this
spicuous than the line in the water, and, therefore, the line falls no lower than your head, a process
less likely to frighten away trout approaching the which it will take time to accomplish. There is
flies. Most leaders are dyed a misty bluish color no more awkward fault than that of whipping
which, it is thought, will escape even the keen a rod down to a level with the horizon before and
eyes of the trout. A landing-net, the size and behind, and swishing the flies through the air
strength of which depend upon the fishing-ground, until some of them are snapped off.
completes the list of tackle. When the learner becomes accustomed to hand-
The next step is to learn how to cast a fly, and ling his rod, he must try to perfect himself in two
here practice and the advice of some experienced matters of great importance accuracy and deli-
fly-fisherman will be worth more than printed in- cacy. Place a small piece of paper fifteen or twenty
structions. feet away, and aim at making the knot in the end of
It is not necessary, however, to wait for summer the line fall easily and quietly upon it. Your efforts
nor for access to water, in order to practice casting. will be aided if you will raise the point of the rod a
A housetop, a dooryard, or even the spacious floor trifle, just as the forward impulse of the line is
of an old-fashioned barn, as the case may be, offers spent, and the line itself is straightened in the air

just as good a chance for practice as a lake or
river. When the rod is jointed together, the reel
attached, and the line passed through the rings
and beyond the tip about the length of the rod,
the learner is usually seized with a wild desire to
flourish rod and line like a whip with a long snap-
per. This feeling must promptly be suppressed.
Fly-casting is a very simple movement, and not a
flourish. The elbow is kept down at the side, the
forearm moving only a little, and most of the work
is done by the wrist. Holding the rod by the
"grip," the part of the butt wound with silk or
rattan to assist the grasp, one finds that the reel,
which is just below the "grip," aids in balancing
the rod. The reel is underneath in casting. After
hooking a fish, many anglers turn their rods so as
to bring the reel to the upper side, thus letting
the strain of the line come upon the rod itself in-
stead of upon the rings. In holding the "grip,"
the thumb should be extended straight along the
rod, as this gives an additional "purchase." For

for an instant in front. This is a novel kind of
target-shooting, but its usefulness will be realized
when the angler finds it necessary to drop his flies
so lightly just over the head of some particularly
wary trout, that the fish, although too shy or lazy
to move a yard, will be persuaded that some
tempting natural flies have foolishly settled on
the water just within reach of his jaws. By
practice of this kind, which is an excellent form of
light exercise in itself, any boy or girl can learn a
very fascinating art. It is not necessary to make
very long casts. At fly-casting tournaments in
Central Park, casts have been made of about
ninety feet, but in actual fishing a third of that dis-
tance is usually sufficient. Never cast more line
than you can conveniently and safely handle.
And now that we are ready to go a-fishing, the
question arises," Where shall we go?" The cold,
bitter weather common in early April is not favor-
able to fishermen or fish. When May sunshine
brings the leaves out on the trees, and fields are




iT^^CF~i^^s'71ii.i-la m

FL A;.-3 - ------ -. i-; i g7- i i. i
C--T- F- O O ---D A D -"


green and skies are blue, then Long Island may
well tempt any New York boy who has a holiday
to spend in fly-fishing. Years ago, any Long
Island water could be fished without question, but
now nearly all the Long Island brooks and ponds
are preserved,"- that is, kept for personal use by
clubs or private owners. A boy who has a friend or
relative among the owners of these preserves, or can
hire a fishing privilege, can enjoy trout-fishing within
a journey of two or three hours from his New York
home. Within a few hours' ride, also, are trout
streams in the southern counties of New York State
and in Pennsylvania, although the former are so

often visited that the fish have not time to grow large.
The New England boy finds trout brooks in western
Connecticut, in northern Massachusetts, and in the
Cape Cod region, in northern New Hampshire
and Vermont, and especially in Maine. Once, al-
most every stream and lake in New England con-
tained trout. But forests were cut down, and
some of the streams dwindled until they went dry
in summer. Saw-mills were built, the streams were
dammed up so as to be impassable for trout, and
the trout eggs were buried under sawdust. Manu-
factories have poisoned the water of some rivers
and others have been literally fished dry." The


trout of any brook near a large New England
town have a very poor chance of long life. All
this is discouraging enough, but yet there are trout
to be caught, as every New England boy knows.
The most famous fishing-places in the East are
the Rangeley Lakes in Maine and the Adirondacks
in New York. About the third week of May the
ice goes out of the great chain of lakes forming
the head-waters of the Androscoggin River in
Maine. Then the red-shirted river-drivers come
down with drives of logs, which dash through
the sluiceways of immense dams between the dif-
ferent lakes. And while the brown pine trunks are
still shooting through the dams, fishermen begin
to gather from all parts of the country, for in the
clear cold water of these lakes the trout, feeding
upon myriads of minnows, grow to be the giants of
their race. I can wish no better piscatorial fortune
for the children of ST. NICHOLAS than a visit to
Maine with father or brother, and the capture of
one of these large trout. I must confess, however,
that the large trout are not to be depended upon;
but there are small fish always to be caught in the
little lakes and brooks of the region, and there are

pleasant forest camps with cheerful fires blazing in
great stone fireplaces. The host of one of these
camps was for a long time a hunter and guide,
and every winter he lectures before Boston school-
boys, dressed in his hunter's garb, and tells them

about trapping and the adventures of life in the
If one can continue further into the North-east,
better fishing can be found in New Brunswick and
Quebec than in Maine, although the trout of the
Provinces are sea trout, a distinction which does
not seem to me important. The trout of the Adi-
rondacks are much smaller than those of Maine or
New Brunswick, and now that the Adirondack
country is overrun with visitors, one must go back
some distance into the woods to find good sport.
South of Pennsylvania, there is trout-fishing in the
mountain streams of West Virginia and North
Carolina. To the west, northern Michigan tempts
the angler, and still further north are the large
trout of the Nepigon river which flows into Lake
Superior. The States along the Mississippi Val-
ley are sadly deficient in trout, but a great deal
can be done with black bass, as Mr. Maurice
Thompson has told you. Trout abound all along
the Rocky Mountains. There are the lusty five-
pounders of the Snake River in Idaho, the rainbow
trout of California, found also, I think, in Colorado,
and the dusky fish of New Mexico and Arizona.
I do not expect that many of
ST. NICHOLAS'S readers will visit
These remote fishing-places, but
between the three corners of the
continent in which I have caught
trout Quebec, Washington Ter-
ritory, and Arizona- there are so
many chances for trout-fishing, that
very few need fail to enjoy this most
delightful of outdoor sports.
The best month for fly-fishing is
June, and the best weather a light
southerly or southwesterly breeze
and a slightly overcast sky. Morn-
ing or evening is the best time.
The worst is the middle of an in-
tensely hot, bright, still day. It is
usually thought that a change in
the weather makes trout more
active. Very high or very low
water is undesirable. Yet when
all the conditions seem perfect,
one may cast over a whole school
of trout without inducing them to
stir a fin ; and on the other hand,
when the weather is most unfavor-
able and when the fish are gorged
with food, they will, sometimes,
fairly hustle one another in their eagerness to get
the flies. On one hot July noon, the air and water
around my boat were alive with trout for half an
hour, when they stopped rising as suddenly as they
had begun, without any apparent reason in one




case or the other. Within two forenoon hours, I
once caught twenty-five pounds of trout at the
mouth of a brook emptying into one of the Ran-
geley lakes. Early next morning, I was rowed to
the same spot and found only one solitary trout.
On another occasion, I landed a five-pound and a
three-pound trout from a pool in a Canadian river,
without unduly disturbing the water; but although

course, at the butt, but communicated along rod
and line. The movement "strikes" the hook into
the fish. One can not be too quick in striking,
but if too much force be used, the rod may be
snapped at the second joint. Yet that is not the
way in which rods are most frequently broken. If
you have drawn in your flies so closely that you can
not readily recover them, and your rod is pointing


the pool contained several other fish, including
one estimated to weigh over five pounds, not
another trout could be induced to look at any fly
in my book. Trout are very fickle and changeable,
and the ingenuity sometimes required to coax them
to rise adds as much zest to the sport as the sus-
pense and excitement of hooking and landing them.
But when the trout does rise, what do you sup-
pose he thinks ? Does he really believe that the
curious creature with a barbed tail hovering over
his head is a natural fly? I doubt it. The flies
ordinarily used would drive an entomologist to
distraction. The great scarlet and white and yel-
low flies which have caused so many Rangeley lake
trout to come to grief are, I fancy, unlike any living
insect in that region, or anywhere else. The trout
sees something moving on the water, and as expe-
rience has taught him that such fluttering objects
are usually good to eat, his weakness for live food
tempts him to pounce upon it without stopping to
reason out the matter. But when he finds that
this deceitful fly is entirely tasteless, he will drop
it at once, unless the fisherman is prompt in
"striking." This means a quick upward move-
ment of the tip of the rod, a motion imparted, of

nearly straight upward, even a gentle attempt to
strike a small fish is likely to break a rod. Once,
I was fishing with a heavy rod from a raft which
was drifting across a Canadian lake. The wind
was so strong that I was obliged to cast with it, and
then the raft rapidly drifted down upon my flies.
A trout weighing not a quarter of a pound rose
when my rod was nearly perpendicular, and the
flies were close before me; instinctively I struck.
The reward of my carelessness was that the rod,
which would have landed a ten-pound fish, was
cleanly broken into two pieces. Never draw the
flies so near you that you have not safe and com-
plete control of your rod, either for the back cast
or for a strike.
The importance of the high back cast of which I
have spoken, will be especially appreciated by
ST. NICHOLAS'S boys and girls, for most of their
trout-fishing will .probably be done upon brooks
where a low back cast would involve entanglement
in grass or bushes. In brook-fishing it is usually
necessary to use a comparatively short line, and
one must learn to make under-hand casts,-that is,
with the rod down to a horizontal level on either
side, instead of being upright, something easily


learned after one can cast properly over-hand. Of
course my readers will see that they must keep
themselves and their shadows out of the sight of
the timid trout. When a fish is hooked, let him
run out the reel if he is large enough, unless he
makes for stumps or brush where the line may get
entangled. Then as much of a strain must be
brought to bear upon him as the tackle will with-
stand ; and always reel in line when it is possible.
The line should never be slack. If the trout will
not rise at first, change your flies and try the old
rule of looking closely at the insects which hover
over the water and selecting a fly from your book
that imitates those insects as nearly as possible.
The best general rule is to use small dark flies in

JI '

bright, clear water, and larger bright flies in dark
or turbid water. I need hardly say that fish are

not to be lifted out of the water with a fly-rod. Let
the trout run and struggle until the strain of the
rod tires him out so that he can be easily drawn
within reach and lifted out with the landing-net.
So you see that in fly-fishing for trout you learn
a very fascinating art, which can be practiced
among the most delightful of outdoor surround-
ings in the pleasantest months of the year. You
will learn much more than books can tell you
about the habits and curious ways of a fish which
the most experienced anglers have considered for
hundreds of years as, next to the salmon, their
most worthy game. You will learn patience, per-
severance, and all manner of practical lessons on
trout streams, including the tying of knots and the
repairing of rods. And the sunshine, the fragrance
of flowery meadows, and the cool breath of the
woods will give you a health which can not be
found indoors. But let me urge upon you to
remember that the true sportsman is always gener-
ous in his treatment of the noble fish which he
pursues. He will never catch trout out of sea-
son. He will never kill more trout than can
be made use of, nor will he ever kill them by unfair
means. And he will never catch tiny troutlings,
too small to afford sport, lest he should exhaust
the streams, but he will carefully restore to the
water any trout which are not at least six inches
long. ST. NICHOLAS'S fly-fishers who meet the
gallant trout on fair and even terms will surely
give the beautiful fish honorable treatment.
And when you go a-fishing, bearing these words
in mind, may you be rewarded by baskets well
filled with trout of noble size.



I AM only a plain little daisy-flower,
Sprung up at hap-hazard neathh sunshine and
To live out as I may my life's poor little hour,
Yet who is so happy as I?

Oh, the days they burn hot, and the nights they
blow cold,
And the shadows and rains,-true they fall,
manifold ;
But my dress is all white, and my heart is pure
And who is so happy as I ?

There 's many a gladsomer meadow than mine,
Where greener trees shelter and softer suns shine
For others than me; but how can I repine,
For who is so happy as I ?

There 's a brook I can't see by that far-away beech,
And a bird that wont whistle, for all I beseech,
And stars are up yonder, quite out of my reach,
But who is so happy as I ?

I just look up at Fate with my brave little face,
I stir from my post in no possible case,
And I keep my dress clean, my gold heart in
its place,
And who is so happy as I ?




[An Historical Biograply.]




THE winter of 1777 passed with little fighting;
and when the spring opened, Washington used his
army so adroitly as to prevent the British from
moving on Philadelphia, and finally crowded them
out of New Jersey altogether. That summer, how-
ever, was an anxious one, for there was great un-
certainty as to the plans of the enemy; and when
at last a formidable British army appeared in the
Chesapeake, whither it had been transported by
sea, Washington hurried his forces to meet it, and
fought the battle of Brandywine, in which he met
with a severe loss. He retrieved his fortune in part
by a brilliant attack on the enemy at Germantown,
and then retired to Valley Forge, in Pennsylvania,
where he went into winter quarters; while the
British army was comfortably established in Phila-
The defeat of Burgoyne by Gates, at Saratoga,
in the summer and Washington's splendid attack
at Germantown had made
a profound impression in
Europe, and are counted / ..7
as having turned the scale
in favor of an alliance with
the United States on the -/ -,
part of France. But when r
the. winter shut down on \ -
the American army, no ,
such good cheer encour- t ,"
aged it. That winter of
1778 was the most terrible .'-M
ordeal which the army / ,
endured, and one has but
to read of the sufferings
of the soldiers to learn at
how great a cost independ-
ence was bought. It is
worth while to tell again BU
the familiar story, because
the leader of the army himself.shared the want
and privation of the men. To read of Valley Forge
is to read of Washington.
The place was chosen for winter quarters be-
cause of its position. It was equally distant with
Philadelphia from the Brandywine and from the

ferry across the Delaware into New Jersey. It
was too far from Philadelphia to be in peril from
attack, and yet it was so near that the Amer-
ican army could, if opportunity offered, descend
quickly on the city. Then it was so protected by
hills and streams that the addition of a few lines
of fortification made it very secure.
But there was no town at Valley Forge, and it
became necessary to provide some shelter for the
soldiers other than the canvas tents which served in
the field in summer. It was the middle of December
when the army began preparations for the winter,
and Washington gave directions for the building
of the little village. The men were divided into
parties of twelve, each party to build a hut to ac-
commodate that number; and in order to stimulate
the men, Washington promised a reward of twelve
dollars to the party in each regiment which fin-
ished its hut first and most satisfactorily. And as
there was some difficulty in getting boards, he
offered a hundred dollars to any officer or soldier
who should invent some substitute which would be
as cheap as boards and as quickly provided.

r. A
a-- -R

-,: ~X '" ..... ", i ^ "


Each hut was to be fourteen feet by sixteen, the
sides, ends, and roof to be made of logs, and the
sides made tight with clay. There was to be a
fireplace in the rear of each hut, built of wood,
but lined with clay eighteen inches thick. The
walls were to be six and a half feet high. Huts



were also to be provided for the officers, and to be
placed in the rear of those occupied by the troops.
All these were to be regularly arranged in streets.
A visitor to the camp when the huts were being
built, wrote of the army; They appear to me like
a family of beavers, every one busy; some carry-
ing logs, others mud, and the rest plastering them
together." It was bitterly cold, and for a month
the men were at work, making ready for the
But in what sort of condition were the men them-
selves when they began this work? Here is a
picture of one of those men on his way to Valley
Forge: His bare feet peep through his worn-
out shoes, his legs nearly naked from the tattered
remains of an only pair of stockings, his breeches
not enough to cover his nakedness, his shirt hang-
ing in strings, his hair disheveled, his face wan
and thin, his look hungry, his whole appearance
that of a man forsaken and neglected." And the
snow was falling This was one of the privates.
The officers were scarcely better off. One was
wrapped in a sort of dressing-gown made of an
old blanket or woolen bed-cover." The uniforms
were torn and ragged; the guns were rusty; a
few only had bayonets; the soldiers carried their
powder in tin boxes and cow-horns.
To explain why this army was so poor and forlorn,
would be to tell a long story. It may be summed
up briefly in these words-the army was not taken
care of because there was no country to take care
of it. There were thirteen States, and each of
these States sent troops into the field, but all the
States were jealous of one another. There was
a Congress, which undertook to direct the war,
but all the members of Congress, coming from the
.several States, were jealous of one another. They
were agreed on only one thing -that it was not
prudent to give the army too much power. It is
true that they had once given Washington large
authority, but they had given it only for a short
period. They were very much afraid that some-
how the army would rule the country, and yet
they were trying to free the country from the
rule of England. But when they talked about free-
ing the country, each man thought only of his
own State. The first fervor with which they
had talked about a common country had died
away; there were some very selfish men in Con-
gress, who could not be patriotic enough to think
of the whole country.
The truth is, it takes a long time for the people
of a country to come to feel that they have a coun-
try. Up to the time of the war for independence,
the people in America did not care much for one
another or for America. They had really been
preparing to be a nation, but they did not know it.

They were angry with Great Britain, and they
knew they had been wronged. They were there-
fore ready to fight; but it does not require so
much courage to fight as to endure suffering and
to be patient.
So it was that the people of America who were
most conscious that they were Americans were the
men who were in the army, and their wives and
mothers and sisters at home. All these were
making sacrifices for their country and so learning
to love it. The men in the army came from dif-
ferent States, and there was a great deal of State
feeling among them; but, after all, they belonged
to one army, the continental army, and they
had much more in common than they had sepa-
rately. Especially they had a great leader who
made no distinction between Virginians and New
England men. Washington felt keenly all the
lack of confidence which Congress showed. He
saw that the spirit in Congress was one which kept
the people divided, while the spirit at Valley Forge
kept the people united, and he wrote reproachfully
to Congress:

"If we would pursue a right system of policy, in my opinion,...
we should all, Congress and army, be considered as one people,
embarked in one cause, in one interest; acting on the same princi-
ple, and to the same end. The distinction, the jealousies set up, or
perhaps only incautiously let out, can answer not a single good pur-
pose. . No order of men in the thirteen States has paid a more sacred
regard to the proceedings of Congress than the army; for without
arrogance or the smallest deviation from truth it may be said, that
no history now extant can furnish an instance of an army's suffering
such uncommon hardships as ours has done, and bearing them with
the same patience and fortitude. To see men, without clothes to
cover them, without blankets to lie on, without shoes (for the want
of which their marches might be traced by the blood from their
feet), and almost as often without provisions as with them, march-
ing through the frost and snow, and at Christmas taking up their
winter quarters within a day's march of the enemy, without a
house or hut to cover them, till they could be built, and submitting
without a murmur, is a proof of patience and obedience, which, in
my opinion, can scarce be paralleled."

The horses died of starvation, and the men
harnessed themselves to trucks and sleds, hauling
wood and provisions from storehouse to hut. At
one time there was not a ration in camp. Wash-
ington seized the peril with a strong hand and com-
pelled the people in the country about, who had
been selling to the British army at Philadelphia,
to give up their stores to the patriots at Valley
Meanwhile, the wives of the officers came to the
camp, and these brave women gave of their cheer
to its dreary life. Mrs. Washington was there
with her husband. The General's apartment is
very small," she wrote to a friend; "he has had
a log cabin built to dine in, which has made our
quarters much more tolerable than they were at
The officers and their wives came together and



told stories, perhaps over a plate of hickory nuts,
which, we are informed, furnished GeneralWashing-
ton's dessert. The General was cheerful in the little
society; but his one thought was how to keep
the brave company of men alive and prepare
them for what lay before them. The house where
he had his quarters was a farmhouse belonging
to a quaker, Mr. Potts, who has said that one day
when strolling up the creek, away from the camp,
he heard a deep, quiet voice a little way off. He
went nearer, and saw Washington's horse tied to
a sapling. Hard by, in the thicket, was Washing-
ton on his knees, praying earnestly.

company of one hundred and twenty men, whom
he drilled thoroughly; these became the models
for others, and so the whole camp was turned into
a military school.
The prospect grew brighter and brighter, until
on the 4th of May, late at night, a messenger rode
into camp with dispatches from Congress. Wash-
ington opened them, and his heart must have
leaped for joy as he read that an alliance had been
formed between France and the United States.
Two days later, the army celebrated the event.
The chaplains of the several regiments read the
intelligence and then offered up thanksgiving to


At the end of February, light began to break.
The terrible winter was passing away, though
the army was still in wretched state. But there
came to camp, a volunteer, Baron Steuben, who
had been trained in the best armies of Europe.
In him Washington had, what he greatly needed,
an excellent drill-master. He made him Inspector
of the army, and soon, as if by magic, the men
changed from slouching, careless fellows into erect,
orderly soldiers. The Baron began with a picked

God. Guns were fired, and there was a public
dinner in honor of Washington and his generals.
There had been shouts for the King of France and
for the American States; but when Washington
took his leave, "there was," says an officer who
was present, universal applause, "with loud huzzas,
which continued till he had proceeded a quarter of
a mile, during which time there were a thousand
hats tossed in the air. His excellency turned
round with his retinue, and huzzaed several times."





THERE is no man so high but some will always
be found who wish to pull him down. Washing-
ton was no exception to this rule. His men wor-
shiped him; the people had confidence in him;
the officers nearest to him, and especially those
who formed a part of his military family, were
warmly attached to him; but in Congress there
were men who violently opposed him, and there
were certain generals who not only envied him but
were ready to seize any opportunity which might
offer to belittle him and to place one of their own
number in his place. The chief men who were
engaged in this business were Generals Conway,
Mifflin, and Gates, and from the prominent position
taken in the affair by the first-named officer, the
intrigue against Washington goes by the name of
the Conway Cabal. A "cabal" is a secret com-
bination against a person with the object of his
hurt or injury.
It is not easy to say just how or when this cabal
first showed itself. Conway was a young brigadier-
general, very conceited and impudent. Mifflin
had been Quartermaster-general, but had resigned.
He had been early in the service and was in
Cambridge with Washington, but had long been
secretly hostile to him. Gates, who had been
Washington's companion in Virginia, was an am-
bitious man who never lost an opportunity of look-
ing after his own interest, and had been especially
fortunate in being appointed to the command of the
northern army just as it achieved the famous vic-
tory over Burgoyne.
The defeat at Brandywine, the failure to make
Germantown a great success, and the occupation
of Philadelphia by the British troops, while the
American army was suffering at Valley Forge--
all this seemed to many a sorry story compared
with the brilliant victory at Saratoga. There
had always been those who thought Washington
slow and cautious. John Adams was one of these,
and he expressed himself as heartily glad that
the glory of turning the tide of arms was not im-
mediately due to the commander-in-chief." Others
shook their heads and said that the people of
America had been guilty of idolatry by making a
man their god; and that, besides, the army would
become dangerous to the liberties of the people if
it were allowed to be so influenced by one man.
Conway was the foremost of these critics. No
man was more a gentleman than General Wash-
ington, or appeared to more advantage at his
table, or in the usual intercourse'of life," he would
say; then he would give his shoulders a shrug,

and look around and add, but as to his talents
for the command of an army, they were miserable
Gates was the general! Conway said. There
was a man who could fight, and win victories!"
Gates himself was in a mood to believe it. He
had been so intoxicated by his success against Bur-
goyne that he thought himself the man of the day,
and quite forgot to send a report of the action
to his commander-in-chief. Washington rebuked
him in a letter which was severe in its quiet tone.
He congratulated Gates on his great success, and
added, At the same time, I can not but regret
that a matter of such magnitude, and so interest-
ing to our general operations, should have reached
me by report only; or through the channel of let-
ters not bearing that authenticity which the im-
portance of it required, and which it would have
received by a line over your signature stating the
simple fact."
Gates may have winced under the rebuke, but
he was then listening to Conway's flattery, and
that was more agreeable to him. Conway, on his
part, found Gates a convenient man to set up as a
rival to Washington. He himself did not aspire
to be commander-in-chief, though he would have
had no doubt as to his capacity. Washington knew
him well. "His merit as an officer," wrote the
Commander-in-chief, "and his importance in
this army exist more in his own imagination
than in reality. For it is a maxim with him
to leave no service of his own untold, nor to
want anything which is to be obtained by im-
portunity." Conway thought Gates was the rising
man, and he meant to rise with him. He filled
his ear with things which he thought would
please him, and among other letters wrote him
one in which these words occurred: Heaven
has determined to save your country, or a weak
general and bad counselors would have ruined it."
Now Gates was foolish enough to show this let-
ter to Wilkinson, one of his aids, and Wilkinson
repeated it to an aid of Lord Stirling, one of
Washington's generals, and Lord Stirling at once
sat down and wrote it off to Washington. There-
upon Washington, who knew Conway too well to
waste any words upon him, sat down and wrote
him this letter:
SIR,- A letter which I received last night contained the follow-
ing paragraph:
"'In a letter from General Conway to General Gates he says:
Heaven has determined to save your country, or a weak general and
bad counselors would have ruined it.'
I am, Sir, your humble servant,
That was all, but it was quite enough to throw
Conway and Gates and Mifflin into a panic. How
did Washington get hold of the sentence ? Had




he seen any other letters? How much did he
know ? In point of fact, that was all that Washing-
ton had seen. He had a contempt for Conway.
He knew of Mifflin's hostility and that Gates was
now cool to him; but he did not suspect Gates of
any intrigue, and he supposed for a while that
Wilkinson's message had been intended only to
warn him of Conway's evil mind.
Gates was greatly perplexed to know what to do,
but he finally wrote to Washington as if there were
some wretch who had been stealing letters and
might be discovering the secrets of the American
leaders. He begged Washington to help him find
the rascal. Washington replied, giving him the
exact manner in which the letter came into his
hands, and then closed with a few sentences that
showed Gates clearly that he had lost the confi-
dence of his commander-in-chief.
That particular occasion passed, but presently
the cabal showed its head again, this time working
through Congress. It secured the appointment
of a Board of War, with Gates at the head, and a
majority of the members from men who were hos-
tile to Washington. Now, they thought, Washing-
ton will resign, and to help matters on they spread
the report that Washington was about to resign.
The general checkmated them at once by a letter
to a friend, in which he wrote:
"To report a design of this kind is among the arts which those
who are endeavoring to effect a change, are practicing to bring it to
pass. . While the public are satisfied with my endeavors, I mean
not to shrink from the cause. But the moment her voice, not that
offaction, calls upon me to resign, I shall do it with as much pleas-
ure as ever the wearied traveler retired to rest."
The cabal was not yet defeated. It had failed
by roundabout methods. It looked about in Con-
gress and counted the disaffected to see if it would
be possible to get a majority vote in favor of a
motion to arrest the commander-in-chief. So at
least the story runs which, from its nature, would
not be found in any record, but was whispered
from one man to another. The day came when the
motion was to be tried; the conspiracy leaked out,
and Washington's friends bestirred themselves.
They needed one more vote. They sent post-haste
for one of their number, Gouverneur Morris, who
was absent in camp; but they feared they could
not get him in time. In their extremity, they went
to William Duer, a member from New York, who
was dangerously ill. Duer sent for his doctor.
Doctor," he asked, can I be carried to Con-
gress ? "
Yes, but at the risk of your life," replied the
Do you mean that I should expire before
reaching the place ?" earnestly inquired the patient.
"No." came the answer; "but I would not
answer for your leaving it alive."

Very well, sir. You have done your duty and
I will do mine! exclaimed Duer. Prepare a
litter for me ; if you will not, somebody else will,
but I prefer your aid."
The 'demand was in earnest, and Duer had
already started when it was announced that Morris
had returned and that he would not be needed.
Morris had come direct from the camp with the
latest news of what was going on there. His vote
would make it impossible for the enemies of Wash-
ington to carry their point; their opportunity was
lost, and they never recovered it.
It was not the end of the cabal, however. They
still cherished their hostility to Washington, and
they sought to injure him where he would feel the
wound most keenly. They tried to win from him
the young Marquis de La Fayette, who had come
from France to join the American army, and
whom Washington had taken to his heart. La
Fayette was ambitious and enthusiastic. Conway,
who had been in France, did his best to attach
himself to the young Frenchman, but he betrayed
his hatred of Washington, and that was enough to
estrange La Fayette. Then a winter campaign in
Canada was planned, and the cabal intrigued to
have La Fayette appointed to command it. It was
argued that as a Frenchman he would have an
influence over the French Canadians. But the
plotters hoped that, away from Washington, the
young marquis could be more easily worked upon,
and it was intended that Conway should be his
second in command.
Of course, in contriving this plan, Washington
was not consulted; but the moment La Fayette was
approached, he appealed to Washington for advice.
Washington saw through the device, but he at
once said, I would rather it should be you than
another." La Fayette insisted on Kalb being second
in command instead of Conway, whom he disliked
and distrusted. Congress was in session at York,
and thither La Fayette went to receive his orders.
Gates, who spent much of his time in the neigh-
borhood of Congress, seeking to influence the
members, was there, and La Fayette was at once
invited to join him and his friends at dinner. The
talk ran freely, and great things were promised of
the Canada expedition, but not a word was said
about Washington. La Fayette listened and noticed.
He thought of the contrast between the meager
fare and the sacrifices at Valley Forge, and this
feast at which he was a guest. He watched his op-
portunity, and near the end of the dinner, he said:
I have a toast to propose. There is one health,
gentlemen, which we have not yet drunk. I have
the honor to propose it to you: The Commander-
in-chief of the armies of the United States! "
It was a challenge which no one dared openly




to take up, but there was an end to the good spirits
of the company. La Fayette had shown his colors,
and he was let alone after that. Indeed, the Canada
expedition never was undertaken, for the men who
were urging it were not in earnest about Aything
but diminishing the honor of Washington. It is
the nature of cabals and intrigues that they flour-
ish in the dark. They can not bear the light.
As soon as these hostile intentions began to reach
the ears of the public, great was the indignation
aroused, and one after another of the conspirators
made haste to disown any evil purpose. Gates
and Mifflin each publicly avowed their entire con-
fidence in Washington, and Conway, who had
fought a duel and supposed himself to be dying,
made a humble apology. The cabal melted
away, leaving Washington more secure than ever
in the confidence of men-all the more secure
that he did not lower himself by attempting the
same arts against his traducers. When Conway
was uttering his libels behind his back, Washing-
ton was openly declaring his judgment of Conway;
and throughout the whole affair, Washington kept
his hands clean, and went his way with a manly
disregard of his enemies.



THE news of the French alliance, and conse-
quent war between France and England, com-
pelled the English to leave Philadelphia. They
had taken their ease there during the winter, while
hardships and Steuben's drilling and Wash-
ington's unflagging zeal had made the American
army at Valley Forge strong and determined. A
French fleet might at any time sail up the Dela-
ware, and with the American army in the rear,
Philadelphia would be a hard place to hold. So
General Howe turned his command over to Gen-
eral Clinton, and went home to England, and
General Clinton set about marching his army
across New Jersey to New York.
The moment the troops left Philadelphia, armed
men sprang up all over New Jersey to contest their
passage, and Washington set his army in motion,
following close upon the heels of the enemy, who
were making for Staten Island. There was a
question whether they should attack the British
and bring on a general engagement, or only fol-
low them and vex them. The generals on whom
Washington most relied, Greene, La Fayette, and
Wayne, all good fighters, urged that it would be
a shame to let the enemy leave New Jersey with-
out a severe punishment. The majority of gen-
erals in the council, however, strongly opposed

the plan of giving battle. They said that the
French alliance would undoubtedly put an end to
the war at once. Why, then, risk life and suc-
cess ? The British army, moreover, was strong and
well equipped.
The most strenuous opponent of the fighting
plan was General Charles Lee. When he was left
in command of a body of troops at the time of
Washington's crossing the Hudson river more than
a year before, his orders were to hold himself in
readiness to join Washington at any time. In his
march across New Jersey, Washington had re-
peatedly. sent for Lee, but Lee had delayed in an
unaccountable manner, and finally was himself
surprised by a company of dragoons, and taken
captive. For a year he had been held a prisoner,
and only lately had been released on exchange.
He had returned to the army while the cabal
against Washington was going on, and had taken
part in it, for he always felt that he ought to be
first and Washington second. He was second in
command now, and his opinion had great weight.
He was a trained soldier, and besides, in his long
captivity he had become well acquainted with
General Clinton, and he professed to know well
the condition and temper of the British officers.
Washington thus found himself unsupported by
a majority of his officers. But he had no doubt in
his own mind that the policy of attack was a sound
one. All had agreed that it was well to harass
the enemy; he therefore ordered La Fayette with a
large division to fall upon the enemy at an exposed
point. He thought it not unlikely that this would
bring on a general action, and he disposed his forces
so as to be ready for such an emergency. He gave
the command to La Fayette, because Lee had dis-
approved the plan; but after La Fayette had set
out, Lee came to Washington and declared that La
Fayette's division was so large as to make it almost
an independent army, and that therefore he would
like to change his mind and take command. It
never would do to have his junior in such au-
Here was a dilemma. Washington could not
recall La Fayette. He wished to make use of Lee;
so he gave Lee two additional brigades, sent him
forward to join La Fayette, when, as his senior, he
would of course command the entire force; and at
the same time he notified La Fayette of what he had
done, trusting to his sincere devotion to the cause
in such an emergency.
When Clinton found that a large force was close
upon him, he took up his position at Monmouth
Court House, now Freehold, New Jersey and pre-
pared to meet the Americans. Washington knew
Clinton's movements and sent word to Lee at once
to attack the British, unless there should be very




powerful reasons to the contrary; adding that he
himself was bringing up the rest of the army. Lee
had joined La Fayette and was now in command of
the advance. La Fayette was eager to move upon
the enemy.
You do not know British soldiers," said Lee;
" we can not stand against them. We shall cer-
tainly be driven back at first, and we must be
Perhaps so," said La Fayette. "But we have
beaten British soldiers, and we can do it again."
Soon after, one of Washington's aids appeared
for intelligence, and La Fayette, in despair at Lee's

dashed forward. After him flew the officers who
had been riding by his side, but they could not
overtake him. His horse, covered with foam, shot
down the road over a bridge and up the hill
beyond. The retreating column saw him come.
The men knew him; they stopped; they made
way for the splendid-looking man, as he, their
leader, rode headlong into the midst of them. Lee
was there, ordering the retreat, and Washington
drew his rein as he came upon him. A moment
of terrible silence -then Washington burst out, his
eyes flashing:
What, sir, is the meaning of this ?"




inaction, sent the messenger to urge Washington
to come at once to the front; that he was
needed. Washington was already on the way,
before the messenger reached him, when he was
met by a little fifer boy, who cried out:
They are all coming this way, your honor."
"Who are coming, my little man?" asked
General Knox, who was riding by Washington.
Why, our boys, your honor, our boys, and the
British right after them."
Impossible exclaimed Washington, and he
galloped to a hill just ahead. To his amazement
and dismay, he saw his men retreating. He lost
not an instant, but, putting spurs to his horse,

"Sir, sir," stammered Lee.
I desire to know, sir, the meaning of this dis-
order and confusion ?"
Lee, enraged now by Washington's towering
passion, made an angry reply. He declared that
the whole affair was against his opinion.
You are a poltroon flashed back Washing-
ton, with an oath. Whatever your opinion may
have been, I expected my orders to be obeyed."
"These men can not face the British grena-
diers," answered Lee.
"They can do it, and they shall !" exclaimed
Washington, galloping off to survey the ground.
Presently he came back; his wrath had gone down



in the presence of the peril to the army. He would
waste no strength in cursing Lee.
"Will you retain the command here, or shall
I? he asked. If you will, I will return to the
main body and have it formed on the next height."
"It is equal to me where I command," said
Lee, sullenly.
Then remain here," said Washington. I
expect you to take proper means for checking the
Your orders shall be obeyed, and I shall not be
the first to leave the ground," replied Lee, with spirit.
The rest of the day the battle raged, and when
night came the enemy had been obliged to fall
back, and Washington determined to follow up his
success in the morning. He directed all the troops
to lie on their arms where they were. He himself
lay stretched on the ground beneath a tree, his
cloak wrapped about him. About midnight, an
officer came near with a message, but hesitated,
reluctant to waken him.
"Advance, sir, and deliver your message,"
Washington called out; I lie here to think, and
not to sleep."
In the morning, Washington prepared to renew
the attack, but the British had slipped away under
cover of the darkness, not willing to venture an-
other battle.
Pursuit, except by some cavalry, was unavailing.
The men were exhausted. The sun beat down

fiercely, and the hot sand made walking difficult.
Moreover, the British fleet lay off Sandy Hook,
and an advance in that direction would lead the
army nearer to the enemy's re-enforcements. Ac-
cordingly Washington marched his army to Bruns-
wick and thence to the Hudson river, crossed it,
and encamped again near White Plains.
After the battle of Monmouth, Lee wrote an
angry letter to Washington and received a cool one
in reply. Lee demanded a court-martial, and Wash-
ington at once ordered it. Three charges were
made, and Lee was convicted of disobedience of
orders in not attacking the enemy on the 28th of
June, agreeably to repeated instructions; misbe-
havior before the enemy on the same day, by making
an unnecessary and disorderly retreat; and disre-
spect to the Commander-in-chief. He was suspend-
ed from the army for a year, and he never returned
to it. Long after his death, facts were brought to
light which make it seem more than probable that
General Lee was so eaten up by vanity, by jealousy of
Washington, and by a love of his profession above
a love of his country, that he was a traitor at heart,
and that instead of being ready to sacrifice himself
for his country, he was ready to sacrifice the
country to his own willful ambition and pride.
But his disgrace was the end of all opposition to
Washington. From that time there was no question
as to who was at the head of the army and the

(To be continued.)

- r- r -".. ." "

* r*. -

1~*~ .,




_ _




THE flowers are fringing the swift meadow
The songsters are nesting in shadowy nooks;
The birds and the blossoms are thronging to
meet us,
With loveliness, perfume, and music they greet
For Summer, the beautiful, reigns !

The bobolink tilts on the tall, nodding clover,
And sings his gay song to us over and over;
The wild roses beckon, with deepening blushes,
And sweet, from the wood, sounds the warble of
For Summer, the beautiful, reigns !

The white lilies sway with the breeze of the morning,
In raiment more fair than a monarch's adorning;

The bright-throated humming-bird, marvel of
Comes questing for honey-blooms, draining their
For Summer, the beautiful, reigns!

High up in the elm is the oriole courting,
A new suit of velvet and gold he is sporting;
With gay bits of caroling, tuneful and mellow,
He wooes his fair lady-love, clad in plain yellow,-
For Summer, the beautiful, reigns!

The blossoms and birds bring us, yearly, sweet
That Nature's glad promises never are broken.
Then sing, happy birdlings, nor ever grow weary!
Laugh on, merry children, 't is time to be cheery! -
For Summer, the beautiful, reigns!



LIFFORD and Jack went down from Brooklyn last
summer to spend a few weeks with Clifford's aunt,
in the cozy old homestead on the Shrewsbury
River. Yachting was to be their chief enjoyment.
'To be sure, they were not practical yachtsmen;
- but Jack said he "had read up the subject," and
Cliff "had been out in a yacht once or twice," so
they had no fears.
Clifford and Jack were second cousins, and great
friends; but Jack had been in the habit of spending
; ' his summers at Saratoga, and accordingly he looked
forward to his present trip with the feeling of an ad-
venturous explorer of unknown regions. And in
order to be prepared for every emergency, he
'brought an "outfit" that filled a strong trunk, two
Svalises, a shawl-strap, and a number of queerly-
shaped packages.
Clifford, who for several years had spent a part
of each summer at his aunt's, carried a handbag.
CESAR AND THE PEACOCK. (SEE NEXT PAGE.) When Jack asked him where the rest of his things
were, Clifford, with a glance at his cousin's paraphernalia, answered that he preferred to keep his
"outfit" at his aunt's. He was not likely to need it elsewhere, and he saved expense for extra baggage.




But Caesar was Jack's chief reliance and most
weighty responsibility. Caesar was a dog; accord-
ing to Jack, a setter-dog. And as Clifford was un-
able to state what was the dog's breed, if it were
not a setter, Jack felt that he had established his
point. Moreover, when Caesar, upon their arrival
at Mud Flat, immediately celebrated the occasion
by slaughtering eight out of a brood of eleven
Cochin China chicks that were great pets of their
hostess, Jack claimed that his pet's success as a game
dog was assured beyond cavil. Jack was somewhat
discouraged on learning that the principal "game"

ing the rest of the boys' visit, was to chase the gor-
geous bird of Juno into the branches of a pear-tree,
and stand below and bark.
Though this was severe on the nervous organ-
ism of the peacock, it seemed to afford unlimited
satisfaction to Caesar, and it kept him out of so
much other possible mischief, that he was rarely
interfered with on these occasions.
As soon as Jack could have his luggage taken to
the house and put in the room the boys were to
occupy, he hastened to unpack his outfit before the
wondering eyes of Clifford. A handsome double-

7 17

I f


in that vicinity was the sideling shedder," or crab,
and he acknowledged that in the pursuit of such
plunder he feared even Caesar was not ambitious.
But nothing ever discouraged Caesar, and he had
more fun with Miss Goodmaid's favorite peacock
than all the game in New Jersey would have afforded
him; as subsequent events developed the fact that
he was mortally afraid of a gun. This is not strange,
considering that he had spent the previous eight
months of his short life in a stable on Henry street,
in Brooklyn. Indeed, his principal amusement dur-

barreled shot-gun, Clifford suggested, might be
used in trying to kill his aunt's three remaining
chickens; a delicate split-bamboo fishing-rod
might come in well for catching live bait, if they
were not in a hurry; and an extensive collection
of artificial flies would perhaps serve to frighten
away the mosquitoes. A large horse-pistol Cliff
thought would be "'just the thing for picking off
bull-frogs in the marshes"; but he was forced to
tell his cousin that he feared his shooting-coat, his
fine yachting suit, his knickerbockers for mountain




climbing, and his tennis flannels, would scarcely be
needed in that vicinity.
Poor Jack looked ruefully at his expensive out-
fit," which Clifford seemed to prize so little, and
then he asked his cousin to tell him what specialties
of costume and accouterments were best fitted to
the Shrewsbury region. Without
answering in words, Clifford simply
pointed to a closet, through the
open door of which could be seen,
hanging from hooks, a broad- *
brimmed straw hat, a blue flannel _
shirt, a stout pair of trousers, and --_
a lanyard. A large jack-knife lay i-_
upon the shelf, and a substantial 51
pair of high shoes stood firmly on
the floor.
Little more was said concerning
the subject that evening, but Jack
went to bed in a very sober frame
of mind. In the morning, he put
all his fancy toggery back into his
trunk, selecting only such useful
garments as Clifford suggested, *
and took an early opportunity of
purchasing a hat which was an
exact counterpart of the one worn -
by his cousin.
Indeed, it was dangerous to men-
tion the word "outfit" in Jack's
hearing for a long time.
Clifford's aunt, Miss Goodmaid,
was asked to tell them where they
could hire a sail-boat for their pro-
posed trip ; she had heard that Johnny Peltsman,
the carriage-maker's son, in Mud Flat, had such
a boat, and to him the boys went to "negotiate."
Johnny Peltsman did have a boat, which he said
he would let, if he "could get his price." The
Slug, he admitted, looked a trifle heavy, and, while
under "proper conditions" she would go fast,
Johnny confessed that she could n't sail very close
to the wind. Upon payment of five dollars, he
said, the boys might have the bbat for two weeks.
"Done!" cried Jack, eagerly. "I dare say
she will suit us perfectly. Some people may
like boats that sail close to the wind. But a boat
to suit me must be able to slide away from the
wind, and not stay crawling around close to it!"
Clifford's face was a study as his partner thus
aired his nautical opinions, while Johnny Peltsman
greeted the remark with open-mouthed astonish-
ment; and when Jack concluded his observations,
Johnny said earnestly:
"By the way, young friend, it is understood, of
course, that if you sink or wreck the Slug,
you must pay damages."
VOL. XIII.-43.

Certainly, if we lose the yacht, you shall be
paid for it," Jack answered, feeling rather indig-
nant at the suggestion.
Being directed to the place where the Slug
lay, the boys hastened away to take immediate
possession. Johnny stood looking after them







until they were out of sight. Then turning to enter
his shop, he soliloquized:
"Well, that beats all! The idea of hiring a
boat without seeing it, and not caring to have it to
sail close to the wind I suppose, of course, those
chaps can swim." And with an ominous shake of
the head, Johnny resumed his carriage-making.
Our heroes found their prize lying in a little
cove just above the bridge. The Slug was a
flat-bottomed center-board boat, fifteen feet long,
five feet across the stern, and narrowing gradually
to a point at the bows. A more clumsy sail-boat
was never seen. But Jack only noticed the two
large lockers, and with unbounded satisfaction,
remarked to his cousin:
"We can stow away a big stock of provisions in
those boxes, Cliff."
It was Friday, so the two boys decided to give the
"yacht" a short trial-trip down to the Highlands and
back. In that way they would become familiar with
the boat, and on Monday morning would be ready
to start on a week's cruise. It chanced that a
flood-tide was just beginning when the lads shoved

1LI i
I~C~?t -~i----~



the Slug well out into the river, while the wind
was blowing a brisk gale straight down-stream,
the very direction in which the boys wished to
go. Clifford was enough of a sailor to step the
little mast and properly set the leg-of-mutton sail
for a breeze directly astern. With a strong wind
behind her, and only a weak tide opposing, it was
not surprising that the Slug made a progress
quite satisfactory to the two amateur yachtsmen.
As the tide increased in force, however, the boat
went slower and slower, and it was six o'clock when
the Highlands hove in sight," as Jack said-
having learned that and other nautical terms from
his story-books. On finding how late it was, Clif-
ford remarked:
We 'd better be making for home."
The boys managed to put the Slug about, and
very soon Jack ascertained that there were times
when it was an advantage to have a boat able to
sail close to the wind; for, as the breeze still blew
down-stream, Clifford found it simply impossible
to beat up the river in the Slug. The truth
was, the only "proper conditions" under which
Johnny Peltsman's boat would sail at all were
those of going straight before the wind !

Clifford threw a hurried glance shoreward,
looked down at the water, and immediately pulled
his oar into the boat, saying:
"The fates are against us, Jack. In spite of
our pulling and tugging, we are actually drift-
ing down-stream. The tide has turned; it 's dead
against us, and so is the wind. It would take a
Cunarder to tow this miserable scow back to Mud
Flat, now."
"What's to be done? asked Jack, suddenly
realizing that they might be swept out into the
bay, where the whitecaps gave evidence that a very
high sea would be encountered.
Neither of us can swim very far," said Clifford.
' Our only chance is to land on that little island,
yonder. Luckily we 're drifting straight toward it."
Favored by the current, the boat was carried
close to the sand-bar of the island, and by a vigor-
ous use of the oars they were able to bring their
craft safely to land.
"We '11 have to stay here until slack water,"
said Clifford, "and then perhaps we can row across
to the shore. The next slack will be about mid-
night, so we 'd better camp here and take advan-
tage of to-morrow morning's slack. Then we can

,'.,;'ii ,' ;7 "
Ih r' , ,. "
. .X

-. -_
i',, b" --'
.I ---~ "-- : -

"... 7 -t. -


Clifford told Jack that they must row the old cross to the Highlands Landing, a short distance
tub back to Mud Flat," and both boys pluckily below here, and go back by steamboat. The Sea-
bent to the work. It was hard work, too. The bird will tow the Slug home for us."
oars were long and heavy, the boat was as unwieldy All right; I '11 stand by you," laconically
as a raft of logs, and at length Jack exclaimed: answered Jack.
It seems to me, Cliff, that the scenery along They at once set about gathering grass and
this river is very monotonous. We passed just sea-weed with which to make a bed, intending to
such banks and houses as those over there, ten use the Slug's sail for a covering. After a couch
minutes ago." had been arranged to their satisfaction, the two


* *,


friends strolled around their domain, which they
found to be a little larger than a city lot. During
their walk, the boys caught four or five soft-shell
crabs, which the epicurean Jack prudently stowed
away in one of the lockers.
The mosquitoes had troubled the lads greatly
from the moment they landed on the sand-
island; and, as they had no matches and could not
make a smudge," they soon decided to turn in "
as Jack technically stated. But then the vicious

1 ^ ;

jX I

until daybreak in battle with his small but ferocious
At sunrise, the castaways refreshed themselves
with a prolonged bath; and then, hungry as bears,
they impatiently waited for slack water, when they
sprang into the Slug, and by long and hard work,
at last reached the mainland not far above the
An investigation of their finances showed the
boys that they had, together, exactly sixty-five cents.



insects attacked their victims in clouds, until the
boys were forced to cover their heads and hands
completely with the sail; and in that uncomfort-
able condition they finally fell asleep.
It seemed but a short time to Clifford before he
became conscious of a stinging, smarting sensa-
tion on his face that was almost unbearable, and
he awoke to find that he was literally covered with
swarms of the poisonous little pests, while Jack,
snugly rolled up in the sailcloth of which he had
taken complete possession in his sleep, snored
Slapping, brushing, and shaking off his tor-
mentors, Clifford punched his companion and
exclaimed :
"How can you sleep through this ?"
Oh, I'm all right," answered Jack, in smothered
"Well, I'm not! growled Clifford, as he sprang
to his feet and proceeded to spend the few hours

With that sum, therefore, they had to provide a
breakfast, pay steamboat fares home, and meet
unknown incidental expenses. A little shop was
soon found where coffee, butter, and a roll would
be furnished to each boy for thirty cents. Their
fares home would amount to twenty cents; and the
boys decided to take the chance that fifteen cents
would prove adequate to the unforeseen. Remem-
bering the soft-shell crabs in the locker, Clifford
induced the good-natured landlady to cook them
"without extra charge; and soon the two hun-
gry lads were dispatching their thirty-cent break-
fast, which included fried potatoes, also "donated"
by the kind-hearted hostess.
At ten o'clock on that eventful Saturday morn-
ing, the young navigators re-embarked and dropped
down with the tide to the steamboat landing at the
The boys soon saw the Seabird plowing her
way to the landing. When she had landed, the


Slug was quickly made fast to the stern of the
larger boat, and ere long the steamer was bearing
them homeward.
Seated well forward on the upper deck, the boys
were congratulating themselves on being at last
free from all anxiety, when suddenly they were
startled by loud cries from the stern of the steam-
boat :
"'Hi! Hi! You lads who own the little boat
astern Hurry quick! quick! She's sinking !
she's sinking "
Running to the spot whence came those warn-
ing shouts; Clifford and Jack looked down at the
Slug and saw that the small center-board had
been thrown entirely out of its trunk by the force of
the water which had been churned to a white foam
under the huge paddle-wheels of the Seabird,-
and a broad stream pouring through this opening
into their "yacht" threatened each moment to
swamp it.
"Bother that yacht! She 's going to haunt us
all our lives! cried Jack, in dismay; but Clifford,
taking in the state of affairs at a glance, ran to the
lower deck, and with one stroke of his pocket-
knife cut the Slug's painter, and then the two boys
silently and sadly watched their boat drop far be-
hind in the fan-shaped wake of the larger vessel.
She may be picked up by some one along-
shore, but, more likely, she '11 go to the bottom,"
thoughtfully remarked Clifford.
"I don't believe it," said Jack; "that yacht will
never sink! She will be turning up against us all
through life, bringing trouble and disgrace."
In due time, the boys arrived at the Goodmaid
homestead, where they received a warm welcome
from Clifford's aunt, who had almost begun to fear
that her young guests were at the bottom of the
On Monday morning, bright and early, the two
boys started down the left bank of the river to find
their boat. They found it after an hour's walk.
It had been hauled out upon the beach. The
Slug had been sighted and recovered by a farmer
living alongshore. After paying two dollars as
salvage, Jack asked the farmer concerning the best
way of getting the boat home.
There are three ways," answered the man,
thoughtfully. "The first is to wait till there's a
hurricane blowing straight up the river, when per-
haps you can sail up. The second is to hire me to
row her up. And the third is to let me put the boat
on my lumber wagon, and haul it up to Mud Flat."
"Of the three, which would be best?" per-
sisted Jack.
"Well," replied the farmer, "you may have to

wait weeks for the hurricane; I will haul the boat
for two dollars; and I will undertake to row it up
the river (though, understand, I don't say how
long I shall be about it)-but row her up I will,
somehow, and charge you only two hundred and
fifty dollars for the job. And that's very cheap, I
can tell you, for I know that boat "
It is hardly necessary to say that the boys
decided that the Slug should go home on wheels,
provided they might ride, too, without increase
of pay. By the use of rollers, an inclined plane
and levers, the boat was safely hoisted upon the
wagon. The farmer occupied the bow, and Jack
and Cliff each sat on a thwart.
And now, for the first time in her history,
the Slug was under complete control. The whip
cracked, the horses strained at their collars, the
wheels rolled, and away went Jack's "yacht,"
trundling homeward. The road led past the
Goodmaid farm, and over the long bridge cross-
ing the Shrewsbury. As they neared the farm, the
boys raised 'a shout, and Caesar, Jack's mongrel
and mischievous dog, leaving the peacock for a
moment, came bounding out to meet them.
True to his nature, he at once began a series of
noisy gambols about the farmer's young and
high-spirited horses. But soon wearying of that
harmless jumping at the wagon, the dog suddenly
ran under the forward wheels, and sprang at the
long fetlocks of the "near" horse.
Like a flash, the team made a wild plunge, and
dashed down the road. The wagon was jerked
from beneath the Slug, and the boat and its pas-
sengers fell heavily to the ground. The anchor,
dropping between the wagon-box and a wheel,
became firmly fixed; while the line to which the
anchor was attached, being good manilla rope,
was uncoiled and dragged after the horses with
great rapidity.
Fortunately, the boys and the driver had time
to jump out of the "yacht" before the anchor-
rope was all paid out," and so, with the exception
of a bad shaking-up and a few bruises, they suf-
fered no injury from their unceremonious disem-
barking. But the sudden fall had "broken the
backbone" of the Slug, as Jack expressed it;
and, as if that were not enough, the poor boat,
as it hung by the painter, was swung, bumped,
knocked, and dragged along, until it was literally
reduced to fragments. There was scarcely a resi-
dence in all Mud Flat that did not have, long
afterward, some satisfactory reminder of the last
cruise of the Slug.
But all agreed that the old boat had one vir-
tue it made famous firewood!








IN tracing back our letters, we now have
reached Chalkis, where the Phoenicians under
Kadmus taught the Greeks their letters. A funny
thing occurred to the wise men who ferreted
out all these facts. They could read Greek, and
they could read Hebrew, and the strange likeness
between many of the names for the letters in the
two languages made it certain that in some way
they were related or connected. But what meant
those letters on rocks, metal vases, and earthenware
jars that we now call Phoenician ? Single letters
looked like Greek letters distorted ; but the words
would not read as Greek. Nor would they read
as Hebrew, although the characters appeared to
have some connection with Hebrew. Greek is
written like our writing, from left to right; but
Hebrew, Arabic, and Persian are written from
right to left. So, in those languages a book begins
where our books end. It was found, too, that the
Hebrew writing now in use is very different exter-

nally from that used by David and Solomon, al-
though the names and general shape of the let-
ters are the same. Have you ever seen a Hebrew
Bible? The alphabet in which the Old Testament
was originally written looked very different from
that which the Jews now use in their Bibles; it
was much nearer the Phoenician in appearance.
For a long time it never dawned on men's
minds that perhaps the Phoenician way of writing,
from right to left, was not followed by the Greeks;
but at last they remembered that in very early
times the lines of Greek writing were made to read
alternately from right to left and from left to right.
Such inscriptions were called bozstsrephc'don (" turn-
ing like oxen in plowing "), because the letters had
to be read as the oxen move from furrow to furrow
in the field that they plow, first one way, then the
other. That gave the needed clew.
After all, if we do not connect letters one to
the other, as in running handwriting, does it
make much difference whether we set the separate
letters down in a sequence which begins at the



right and ends at the left, or in one that begins at
the left and ends at the right ? Some nations, like
the Chinese and Taitars, find it convenient to write
signs under each other. The Egyptians used to
write in at least three several directions, namely,
downwards, from right to left, and from left to
right. Generally one can tell how to read hiero-
glyphs in Egyptian and Mexican manuscripts by
noting the direction of the faces of animals and
persons pictured, and then reading in the opposite
direction. Sometimes Egyptian hieroglyphs were
engraved one upon the other, like a monogram.
Well, putting some or all of these facts together,
it suddenly flashed on some one that the oldest
Greek letters might be nothing more or less than
the Phoenician letters turned the other way. And
when they came to examine the very oldest Greek
inscriptions to be found, they discovered that this
was the main difference between the two The
Greeks had borrowed the Phoenician letters and
merely added some new characters to express
sounds peculiar to their own tongue and neglected
others that were of no service.
It was this alphabet that the Greek-Phoenicians
brought to Italy. When, centuries later, Latins and
Sabines and Etruscans and Oscans, banded to-
gether and formed the great city of Rome, it was
this alphabet they inherited from their forefathers.
Several of the letters which the Etruscans thought
necessary to express sounds in their language, were
dropped before the Romans came to power and
produced their great poets and essayists.
So, now you know how the alphabet came to
you, which the Irish monks taught our heathen
forefathers. It came through the Latins from the
people of Bceotia, or Greeks, who learned it from
the Phoenicians.
But that great mercantile people, the Phoenici-
ans, also left to the nations near their old home
in Palestine, the same precious gift of an alphabet.
Very old inscriptions in Hebrew, lately found, are
seen to be written in almost the same alphabet
as the Phoenician. Perhaps you are beginning to
wonder how many peoples there are who owe their
letters to that old sea-folk who were the traders,
pirates, and buccaneers of the Mediterranean!
There is the Hebrew, which people have called the
alphabet of God, because the Holy Scriptures were
written in it, and which was also used by magi-
cians for their amulets and talismans; there is
the Greek, in which the epics of Homer, the
long poems of Hesiod, and the rhapsodies of Pin-
dar were taken down; there is the Latin, in which
all the wisdom of the ancients reached us; and there
are all the differing alphabets, printed characters,
and script handwriting of Europe and America!
In fact, I could not tell you here, so numerous

are they, the names of all the languages in Asia,
Africa, Europe, and America, that were and are
written in some alphabet, which traces its descent
from the twenty-two Phoenician letters.
The connection between Greek and Phoenician
is much easier to believe than that Arabic, a sen-

tence of which you
see here represented,
should be also a writ-
ing derived from the
Phoenician. Arabic
letters are used by so
large a portion of the
inhabitants of the
earth that it stands
second among the
great national, or
rather, the great re-
ligious alphabets of
the world. Some of
you know, I suppose,
that Mohammed was
a very wise and im-
aginative Arab of an
important though
poor tribe of Arabia
Felix. He was a
great poet and states-
man; he had visions
and called himself
the Prophet of God.
He wrote the Koran,
which is used by an
immense multitude
of men as their only
law-book and Bible.
The dialect which he
and his clan used be-
came, through the
spread of his doc-
trines, the standard,
first for all Arabia,
and then for all the
enormous countries a
hundred times larger
than Arabia which
his disciples and their
followers won by
force of arms.
Of course the al-
phabet he used did
not spring up sud-
denly. Itwashanded


-I o o z


0 -
93 02 t
wi i"
^s~s- I
lil I
3 Il ' -1 f -
~OS. C r

as'^ ==
g-lag ,-^
I S- L

down from the early times of the Phoenicians, and
gradually became so changed in most of the letters
that you would hardly believe they had ever been
the same as the Phoenician letters. Writers of it




were so careless, or so proud of being able to read uses, in the main, the same alphabet that looks so
and write when the mass of their neighbors were plain and simple on the page you are reading I
ignorant, that, neglectfully or intentionally, .
they allowed many letters to become almost T )T t T --fl
like one another. In the Arabic, Turkish, E
and Persian languages, it is hard to tell num- PERSIAN SENTENCE.
berof the letters apart. In order to distinguish them, Both Phoenician and Aramaic were in all prob-
later writers devised a set of dots, like the dot over ability spoken and written in Palestine and Aram.
our small i. The same difficulty occurred among It was in Aramaic, too, that the words of Christ and
the Hebrews, whose wise men seemedto enjoy mak- his apostles were spoken; and a few of the actual
ing writing hard to write and to read. Another words are still retained in the New Testament, for
reason why Arabic is hard to make out is because example Talitha cumi," meaning "Maid, arise!"
many of the letters change their forms according as It was probably Aramaic that prevailed also in the
they stand alone (unconnected), or stand at the be- great capitals of Mesopotamia, while the rich and
ginning of a word (initial), or in between two other haughty kings of Babylonia and Assyria were using
letters (connected) or at the end of a word (final). on their stone and plaster images and in their queer
Think of having to distinguish the same letter under books of inscribed and baked brick, the writing that
four different forms What a bother to the children is called "cuneiform." It is so called because the
of the Arabs, Turks, and Persians as they sit tailor- letters appear to to be formed of little cunei, wedges,
fashion, or kneel patiently on. the floor, their shoes or nails. Arrow-headed writing" is another
left outside the threshold, while the school-
master flourishes his rod over their puzzled nod- -- y
dies, or raps the soles of their tired little feet !
Now Arabic letters and Hebrew, too, if you
try to trace them back to Phoenician, are Av-
found to have passed through the hands of
a people who occupied the high lands of Asia 7
Minor, where the two great rivers of Baby-
Ion," the Euphrates and the Tigris, begin to -T i --
run their course. This land was called Aram
and the ancient language spoken there, the
Aramaic. Between Phoenician and Aramaic l j -- T
the connection is close. The Aramaic took
the place of the Phoenician language, when
the Phoenicians were edged out of Palestine
westward over the Mediterranean. So we SPECISEN OF CUNEIFORM WRITING.
see that Arabic, which looks so strange
and is so elegant and fantastic when embroid- name for it. Look well at this curious writing made
ered on banners or traced on tiles or written on the by engraving on brick. Several different languages
beautiful mulberry-leaf paper of the Orient, really have been written in it.



SIx sturdy lads lay curled up in their beds
When the Birthday of Freedom had faded to night,
With burns on their fingers and pains in their heads,
And scarred like the heroes of many a fight.
But, strange to relate, as all sleepless they lay,
Though ten from the steeple had chimed loud
and clear,
They sighed: "What a perfectly glorious day !
Too bad it can only come once in the year "

The six patient mothers, who loved the six boys,
Were resting at last, now the daylight was done;
For, with the wild racket and riot and noise,
No peace had been theirs since the dawn of the
And they sighed, as they said in the weariest way
(And full cause had they for their feelings, I fear):
" This has been such a terrible, ear-splitting day!
How lucky it only comes once in the year "




;Z4 fl-w






7 -~ZI~ 1




EVERYBODY knows the old story of the father
who taught his sons to be united by showing them
a bundle of sticks. Taken together, the sticks
could not be broken; but taken singly, they were
snapped in two very quickly.
The wild dogs of South Africa, like the bundle
of sticks, furnish an example of the value of unity.
A single wild dog is not very formidable, but a
pack of wild dogs is the dread of every living creat-
ure in the part of Africa where they dwell; and
more persevering, savage, and relentless hunters
do not exist.
The wild dog has keen scent, quick intelligence,
great powers of endurance, and great speed; so
that, however swift may be the animal pursued, it
has cause to fear this tireless hunter. Indeed, the
wild dog never seems to take into consideration
the size, strength, or agility of its game. Even
the lion, it is said, has learned to dread those small
hunters, which seem to have no fear of death,
but rush with fierce courage to attack the mighty
monarch himself, should he be so unlucky as to
become the object of their pursuit.
One traveler tells of having witnessed the pur-
suit and destruction of a large leopard by a pack
of wild dogs. Whether or not the dogs had set
out with the intention of capturing the leopard, he
could not tell. He saw them start up the great cat
in a low jungle. The leopard made no effort at
first to fight off its assailants; but, with a series
of prodigious springs, sought shelter in the only
refuge the plain afforded-- a tree which had par-
tially fallen.
There the hunted beast stood, snarling and growl-

ing in a manner that would have frightened off
any ordinary foe. The savage dogs, however, never
hesitated a moment, but with agile leaps ran up the
sloping trunk, and gave instant battle to their furi-
ous game. One after another, the dogs were hurled
back, each stroke of the terrible paw making one
foe the less. Yet they continued to throw them-
selves against the enraged creature, until, wearied
by the contest and wounded in fifty places, it fell
from the tree ; when, still struggling, it was quickly
torn to pieces.
It must not be supposed, however, that the wild
dog usually prefers as formidable game as the
leopard. A sheep-fold is always an attraction too
great for the wild dog to pass.
And now, after calling this wild hunter a dog,
I shall have to say that it is not a dog at all,
but is only a sort of cousin to the dog, and really a
nearer relative of the hyena, though it so resem-
bles both animals as to have gained the name
of hyena-dog. Its scientific name is Lycaon
venaticus; and besides the two common names
already mentioned, it has half a dozen more.
Being neither dog nor hyena, and yet akin to
both, it is one of those strange forms of the animal
creation which naturalists call "links." It has
four toes, like the hyena, while it has teeth like
the dog's.
Some attempts have been made to tame it, so as
to gain the use of its wonderful powers of hunting;
but none of these efforts have yet been successful,
because of the suspicious nature of the animal.
It seems to feel that every offer of kindness or
familiarity is a menace to its liberty.


BY A. R. W.

HE theoretic turtle started out to see the toad;
He came to a stop at a liberty-pole in the middle of the road.
Now how, in the name of the spouting whale," the indignant turtle cried,
Can I climb this perpendicular cliff, and get on the other side ?
If I only could make a big balloon, I 'd lightly over it fly;
Or a very long ladder might reach the top, though it does look fearfully high.
If a beaver were in my place, he 'd gnaw a passage through with his teeth;
I can't do that, but I can dig a tunnel and pass beneath."
He was digging his tunnel, with might and main, when a dog looked down at the hole.
" The easiest way, my friend," said he, is to walk around the pole."









THERE was a gentlemanly raising of hats and a
womanly fluttering of skirts at the Ferrises' door.
The hats were borne down the dark avenue, and
could be seen, occasionally, swinging briskly along
under the light of successive lampposts. They were
very stylish hats.
The skirts made a soft scurrying sound as they
rustled upstairs, and along the dim hall, disappear-
ing into the rooms of their owners. They were
very dainty skirts.
Nan closed her door, turned up the gas, stood a
moment pouting at herself in the glass, pulled the
wilted roses from her belt with an impatient jerk,
tossed her pretty evening dress across a chair,
exchanged her boots for a pair of slippers, and
stole noiselessly into Evelyn's room to talk over
the party with that dear sister and Cathy, who was
staying with them, as a guest.
She found those two persons waiting for her, while
they straightened out the fingers of their long gloves.
Well, girls," began Nan, seating herself lazily
upon the middle of the bed, there is just
one solitary comfort left after an utterly stupid
evening like this: you can express your feelings to
your dearest friends, and here I am to express "
Go on, then," sighed her sister,-ruefully exam-
ining a stain on her fan; "but don't speak too
loud or you will waken the household."
Oh, you need n't be afraid, Evelyn; I 'm not
in one of my fire-cracker moods. No, I 'm cool;
I have the calmness of stern resolve; I speak from
that tranquil height which lies beyond emotion! "
declaimed Nan, pulling out the hairpins from her
artistic coils.
What notion have you in your busy head now ?
Hasten to divulge, for it is very late," suggested
Late who cares ? I shall save years of sleep
by wasting this midnight's gas and Nan showed
a gleam of fire in her eye as she gave the pillow.
a vindictive thump.
Well," yawned Cathy, "proceed at once";
and forthwith the audience curled itself up on
the lounge, regarding the speaker with expectant
amusement, while she, after finishing off an intri-
cate pattern in hairpins, thus began :
Ahem-ladies-the subject of society in gen-
eraland parties in particular, ladies and gentlemen,"
waving her hand toward sundry photographs

standing about on Evelyn's writing-desk, has
been under consideration for some time. Ergo,
I don't go to another one! So there That's
settled. From this time forth I shall proceed to
enjoy life in a rational way."
With this conclusion to her rapid speech, she
scattered her design over the bedspread with one
destructive finger, and flashed upon her hearers
two bright, snapping eyes, showing that she was
in earnest, despite her nonsense.
Cathy gasped, while Evelyn exclaimed:
"Why, Nan, what happened? Did n't you
have a gay time? "
This remark set Nan off, like a match to powder.
"Gay? Oh, bewilderingly, intensely gay! Yes,
it was just that 'gay,' and nothing more. The
party was all right, indeed better than most, from
a high moral point of view, for my hair staid in
curl and my gloves did n't burst; I danced with
the most stylish goose in the room; I ate an ice
with conceited Tom Lefferts in the conservatory;
I opened and shut my fan and smiled and raised
my eyebrows the requisite number of times to pro-
duce the effect of having a delightful time Oh-
'I would not pass another such an eve,
Though 't were to buy a world of happy days.' "

This vivid speech was uttered in irony so cold
that it would have been quite thrilling if Nan
had n't given the pillow another vehement poke in
the middle, which made its four corners swell up
in stiff remonstrance.
Goodness !" exclaimed Cathy, with a laugh,
"what in the world are you going to do about
it, Nan ? There is a full supply of nonsense in the
world, I admit, but we can't reform the feature of
the time, and we must have some fun- "
"Fun!" interrupted Nan hotly. Who is
objecting to fun ? Who loves fun better than I ?
But who has fun at these shows ? Did you have a
really happy time to-night, Cathy ? Own up now.
You know that, when the flutter is over, you can't
remember one single thing worth remembering.
Does it pay? "
But we can't help it. What are you going to
do-turn blue-stocking or prig, Nannie, love?"
mildly inquired Evelyn.
'Prig '-'blue-stocking '-no, I hate the
very words," said Nan, adding, I 'm seeking just
what you are; the only difference is, I 'm going to
get it and you are not. But go on, sweet children,




go on giving your hair extra frizzlings, go on smiling
divinely at vapid nothings, and eating numberless
plates of cream-it is a noble future to contem-
plate! But let me tell you, deluded creatures, that
you will drag home just so many times neither

elyn, who reclined tragically upon the lounge,
feigning to be completely overcome.
After they had succeeded in controlling their
emotions, Cathy said in a wailing voice:
Yes, Nan, I have a realizing sense that you are


benefited nor amused, and the last state of all such more than half right; for I do believe that, when,
will be worse than the first. Let us weep after such an evening, I survey my giddy self in the
And now the poor pillow went flying off upon glass, I sigh more often than I smile."
the floor, while Nan laughed at her own peroration. Nan, who was venting her yet unspent spite in
Her spell-bound hearers gave two gigantic sighs, braiding her hair into tight little curls, gave her
while Cathy seized a cologne-bottle to restore Ev- head an emphatic nod and declared her fell inten-



tion of finding some way out of her slough of
despond. Then as the last braid dwindled to
three hairs, she descended from the platform, and
thus concluded :
Ladies and gentlemen, thanking you for your
kind attention, I beg leave to announce that there
will be another solemn conclave in regard to this
vital subject, on the side veranda, to-morrow morn-
ing at ten o'clock. Good-night, you dear old
things, you are nearly asleep, and I 've wearied
you more than did that wretched party. Why, no !
Cathy's eyes are wide open Mercy on us, Cathy


THE bell in St. Luke's steeple rang out the
stroke for three-quarters after nine in the morning.
Nan lay in the hammock, gazing up through the
woodbine of the before-mentioned side veranda.
The leaves were beginning to turn maroon and
russet; but evidently she was not looking at these,
for her pretty eyes were taking in a wider angle of
light. In truth, there was a deep little wrinkle
between her eyebrows, which implied deep thought.
However, as the bell began on its ten strokes,

S .


thinks she 's thinking! Go on, dear, it wont harm
you at all."
With this parting fling, she hopped to the door,
holding in her hand one slipper, which she waved
tragically, exclaiming, Farewell, base world! "
and was gone.
What a girl she is! said Evelyn, as the audi-
ence unbent itself. She did n't give me a chance
to agree with or to combat her theories; but, do
you know, I am tired of it, too, just as much as
Nan is, only she has vigor enough to rebel at the
thraldom of her bright, natural self, while I keep
on and on from mere inertia."
"Well," said Cathy, slowly winding her watch, I
was thinking, as Nan said-but it is one o'clock,
and I shall not say another word until to-morrow."

she with-
drew her
stare from the
far, unseen hori-
zon, rolled out of
the hammock, came
down hard on her two
trim boots, stood up
straight, and gazed the landscape o'er.
"Not a girl in sight," she said to herself, with
an amused laugh; I believe the silly things are
afraid of me; maybe they think I have become
one of those reformers-oh me, how shy girls are
of a cause / Well, anyhow, I have one, or rather
a because, and they must give me a fair hear-
ing, though I must be wiser than a whole collec-
tion of serpents." She had reflected thus far, when
she espied a blue eye peeping around the corner
of the bay-window.
"Oh, Cathy !" she shouted ; "oh, you perfid-
ious foe! Come here! Where are the girls?"
Cathy brought the companion eye into view,
and finally two other pairs appeared, accompa-
nied by their respective owners, Evelyn carrying


a basket of grapes. How merry they were, and
how they laughed in that contagious girl-fashion
as they encamped about Nan They made a group
charming to behold, and they seemed capable of
tossing anybody's blues away as easily as they now
threw grape-skins into the sunny air. But they
were not remarkable in any respect; they had
their full share of graces and defects, of assorted
sizes, both of feature and character. No one of
them was in the least a heroine; but the group
was very like any other group that might have
been found in many neighborhoods, on that
pleasant September morning.
Bert Mitchell, who was the only addition to the
party of the night before, ensconced herself in the
hammock with Cathy Drake. The two girls dif-
fered from each other in many respects, but were
great friends, as is often the case.
Bert, who was never called Bertha, as she de-
clared in extravagant phrase that she perfectly
loathed the name," was tall and cheery, with fine
eyes, a mass of brown hair, and a voice a trifle
loud. But the girls forgave her that; and when-
ever she began to speak, they would always listen,
assured of hearing something bright. But her
most characteristic feature was her hands. They
were white and shapely, but she had a curious
way of carrying them-as though she had just
put them on for the first time, and was trying dif-
ferent effects with them. The girls laughingly
cried, Long may they wave!" and liked her all
the same. She had an abundance of settled con-
victions on every possible subject,-" positive opin-
ions hot at all hours," Cathy's brother Fred said
of her,-and she was therefore always in a definite
mood, and very good company.
If, as some say, beauty is tested by the ability to
wear one's hair combed straight back without
being a scarecrow, Cathy, of all the girls, came
nearest to being pretty, for she, and she alone,
enjoyed the luxury of an even temper during high
winds, damp days, and a vacation at the seashore.
Her forehead was broad and calm, her eyes were
blue and calm, and her mouth was sweet and calm.
She was not positive about anything, which greatly
irritated her friend Bert, who, indeed, flew into a
comical passion one day, over her failure to arouse
Cathy. Shaking her, she exclaimed, "Will nothing
on earth move you! Do get angry- at something
or some one !-at me !-at anything Have n't
you any depths in you ? If you have, stir them up! "
Cathy raised her crescent brows, and a faint
color crept into her smooth cheek as she quietly
said: Depths don't stir, my dear; and if stirred
from the top, they are apt only to get muddy,
you know. However, I'd like to accommodate
you by getting furiously angry-at you, for in-

stance; this is an inviting opportunity, and I
don't know that I ought to miss it-but some-
how it does n't seem worth while." And even the
obstreperous Bert was silenced by this covert
When they all had settled themselves into
various cozy attitudes, Bert demanded to know
the object of the caucus. I hope it is something
interesting, for nothing but a command from you
would have induced me to crawl out this morning,"
she yawned, as she adjusted a sofa-pillow for her
Cathy murmured, Hear! Hear! but was
evidently more absorbed in Evelyn's explanation
of a new Kensington stitch.
Nan rapped sharply with the handle of a tennis
racquet, and requested order. Then she gave a
little cough, tossed the grape-vine overhershoulder,
and began :
Fellow-citizens I come before you on this
auspicious occasion to declare treason-treason to
the tyrant commonly called polite society.' I 've
come to the solemn conclusion that it is about
time I began to prepare to live."
She was at this point interrupted by a groan,
and Bert asked:
Why, are n't you alive, Nan ? I am. Life so
far is a great success, and it is all your own fault
if you don't think so too. You have all the con-
veniences for having an uncommonly favored
existence, if you only insisted on thinking so."
But Nan retorted: That's just it-if one could
only think so Aye, there's the rub. This is the
place for tears. Oh, dear!--I can't whip my
thoughts into obedience to my will as you can,
Bert. I have, as you say, all the so-called op-
portunities' for having a so-called 'fine time,'
and when I am old and gray, no one can say that
I did not improve them with unflagging diligence.
But I don't really enjoy myself, and I don't believe
you do either--only you '11 never own to it.
Now, girls, honor bright, do you honestly think
we amount to much? Are we getting the most
out of life?"
The impressiveness of the moment was ruined
by the arrival of a green grape, plump upon the
speaker's nose.
Nan was good-natured enough to laugh with
the rest, as she gave it a well-directed aim back at
At this point Evelyn rescued the meeting from
total disorder, byboldlyannouncing: "Stay, girls!
I agree with Nan, so far as I know what she
means. Oh, she was sublime last night I wilted
under the heat of her eloquence, and I proclaim
myself her humble follower."
At this encouragement, Nan administered a



smothering hug to her noble champion; but sud-
denly she seemed to change her tactics from ha-
rangue to intrigue, for, helping herself to a bunch
of Dianas, she said languidly:
"Well, the curbed lion of my spirit was rampant
last night, for I had a very inane time at that
party-or perhaps I ate too much of the lemon
streak of my Neapolitan ice; at all events, I was
rash enough to declare war to the knife on all
inducements from the giddy world again."
But you will go to the next party as usual,"
interrupted Bert, as she left the hammock. You
will go every time, my dear; you can't help it;
it is inevitable fate; so you 'd better calm down
and meditate on your next gown."
Ah, Bert! You 've said it now!" almost
shouted Nan. That 's the very point! Is it
'inevitable fate' that we go on and on? I want
something more worth the while. Do be patient
with me, and let me lay the case before you
as it looks to me. Here we are,every last girl
of us out of school, and doing absolutely nothing.
What would we think of young men who dawdled
about at this rate, contenting themselves with a
little dusting, arranging a few flowers, doing a bit
of embroidery now and then, and in very energetic
moments painting a teacup, but chiefly being 'in
society,' and not earning one square inch even
of their manly clothing? Horrors I wouldn't
recognize such a ninny "
The silenced audience looked sufficiently awe-
struck to encourage Nan to continue.
Now, are we one whit more to be envied, just
because we are girls ? Wake up, Bert! And now
that I 'm awake myself, I think I shall actually
blush the next time Father pays me my allowance."
Well, girls, Nan is in earnest," said Evelyn.
Cathy and I were almost set to thinking by her
burning eloquence last night-and I can assure
you she has a scheme on foot; so, as a humble
champion, I request an expression from the meet-
ing, upon certain points. Firstly, all who agree
that the present state of things is n't very satis-
fying, will please manifest it by holding up the
right hand."
Cathy's gold thimble gleamed in the air. Bert
was ostensibly asleep, with her head against the
pillar, but suddenly she sat erect, and said with
great decision:
I think that you are running your precious
heads against a wall- and, I assure you, the wall
does n't mind it in the least. You are in the
world, and you would better treat it politely or
you will get roundly snubbed in return. As for
me, I must meet people. Until Nan or some other
philosopher offers something enticing, I remain
true to the ship."

"But suppose we do offer something in its
place," said Evelyn, who had rolled up her work
and stuck her needle through it, as though she
were fastening an idea within.
You are not much of a sinner, so entice away,"
said Bert, smilingly, folding her hands.
"Well," Evelyn proceeded with a comical drawl,
"let's be a club- "
"Oh, I 'm clubbed black and blue now!"
gasped Bert; do try again, sweet child "
"Let 's be a club," Evelyn repeated severely,
and let us read, or study, or work, with all the
might that is in us."
Meanwhile, the clouds had been clearing from
Nan's brow, and now she called out delightedly:
"You are getting 'warm', as we used to say
when we played 'hunt the thimble'; you are cer-
tainly traveling toward milder climes, Evelyn.
Yes, let us do something in earnest-and I know
what I 'm going to do, too! '
What? what?" sounded in chorus.
"I'm going-to- earn -my own-living."
At each emphatic word, Nan bobbed her head
in the most decisive manner. "I 'm going to seek
my fortune, and I 'm going to try to lead a genuine
The girls sat stunned, with wide open eyes, till
Bert suddenly pounded on the floor with heavy
applause, and Evelyn asked breathlessly:
"Why, Nan, has Father failed, or lost any-
"No, he has n't," answered Nan grimly, "but
I have. What have I ever done since I was grad-
uated but drift about, vainly trying to amuse my-
self. Why, girls, we have futures before us- "
"No, not before us?" laughed Bert with mock
But Nan, undisturbed by Bert's interruption,
went calmly on:
Do we wish to belong to that class of helpless
women who are aghast and powerless if misfor-
tune overtakes them ? Do we wish to depend on
others all our lives-even if we have a fair pros-
pect of property of our own (looking hard at
Bert). "Remember that the wheel of Fortune
turns once in most lives, and I should n't like
to be flattened under it "
The attention of her hearers was suddenly
startled by an exclamation from Bert, who stood
up, with both hands at her heart, in apparent
agony. Recovering, however, with astonishing
alacrity, she murmured: Oh, it is nothing-
nothing but a barbed arrow driven home."
And with this mysterious remark, she settled
her hat, declared it was dinner-time, and, refusing
to explain her unwonted reserve, laughingly tore
herself away.





-I'tn'. '5R:...asF

* .,,,r,.J/~/ ________ -- -

It 's very queer
That you wear your fur coats all the year !

Mamma, in May,
Put hers away.
I should think you 'd be too warm to play.

[A Story of the Maine Coast.]




THE kelp-gatherers, with their tip-cart and ox-
team, had in the meanwhile entered the belt of
woods which stretched along the coast, back from
the sea. Tall trees rose on both sides of the narrow,
sandy road, their tops meeting overhead. There
was on the outskirts a scanty undergrowth, which,
however, soon disappeared, leaving the open aisles
of the forest, with here a brown carpet of pine-
needles, and there a patch of bright moss.
The sun was going down. The spots and flick-
ers of wine-colored light vanished from the boughs.
The long bars of shadow, cast by the great trunks,
became merged in one universal shade, and even-
ing shut down upon the woods.
Soon another sound mingled with that of the
wind sweeping through the pines and firs. It was
the roar of the sea.
The boys were more quiet now, the solemn

scene filling their hearts with quiet joy. The
large trees soon gave place to a smaller and
thicker growth of spruce and balsam, the boughs
of which now and then touched the cart-wheels as
they passed. Somewhere in the dim wilderness,
a thrush piped his evening song.
Hark said Perce. I heard something
besides a bird. Is somebody calling ? "
A loon," said Moke.
A loon out on the water," said Poke. The
sea is just off here."
They soon had glimpses of it through openings
among the trees. But now the sound of it became
louder; the woods, too, moaned like another sea
in the wind, and the cries were no longer heard.
They came out upon a spot of low grassy ground
behind the sand-hills. There was a fresh-water
pool near by. Perce thought it a good place for
the oxen; and he turned them out on the road-
side. Mrs. Murcher's boarding-house was in sight.
Suppose I run up there and find Olly before
it gets any darker," said Perce. You can be



unhitching the steers from the cart, and getting
'em around in a good place to feed. Fasten 'em
to the cart-wheel by this rope ; tie it in the ring of
the yoke. Let 'em drink first."
All right," said the twins. Go ahead."
And off Perce ran to summon his friend to their
The twins turned the cattle into the grass, and
then began to make things ready for their camp
and supper; keeping up all the time an incessant
dialogue, which prevented them from hearing again
the cries of the supposed loon, growing fainter and
fainter on the distant waves.
Neither did Perce hear them as he hastened
along the path in the gloomy hollow, and mounted
the piazza steps. In the hall-door of the boarding-
house, he was met by a tall girl of seventeen, with
a fine brunette complexion, piercing dark eyes, and
a high, thin, Roman nose.
Overawed a little by her rather imposing style
of dress and features, Perce took off his cap, and
begging her pardon, inquired for Oliver Burdeen.
"Burdeen? Oliver ?" she queried. Oh "
with a pleasant smile, you mean Olly "
Yes," he replied. "We all call him Olly
where he lives, but I was n't sure he would be
known by that name here."
He is n't known by any other replied the
young lady with a laugh. He 's about, some-
where; I believe he's always about, somewhere !
Mrs. Merriman," she called to a lady in the parlor,
"where's the ubiquitous Oily?"
"I don't know, Amy," replied the lady. "Did
n't he go with the gentlemen in the yacht?"
Amy almost thought he did "; yet it seemed to
her she had seen him that afternoon; a position of
uncertainty on the part of that young lady, which
would n't have been highly flattering to the vanity
of Master Burdeen, even if he had n't been at
that moment beyond the reach of flattery.
Mrs. Murcher can tell you," she said, turning to
walk back to the end of the hall. She is here,
in the dining-room."
Mrs. Murcher thought Olly must be in his
I believe he is going home this evening," she
said; "he wants to show his folks a new suit of
clothes that has been given him. I guess he 's trying
them on."
I am a neighbor of his," said Perce. I am
camping on the beach with some friends; and we
want him to join us."
Well exclaimed the landlady, you can go
right up to his room and find him. It 's in the
old part of the house; but you 'd better go up the
front way; it 's lighter."
She was explaining to Perce that he must go

up one flight, proceed to the end of the corridor,
and then step down into a lower passage--when
the tall young brunette called over the banisters,
" I '11 show him! "
He mounted after her; and she threw open the
door of what seemed an unoccupied room, to let
more light from its windows into the corridor.
Be careful not to stumble she warned him.
"That's his room, right before you, as you go
down those steps."
So saying, she disappeared in some other room,
and Perce was left alone in the dim hall. He
paused a moment to get a glimpse of the sea
through the door and window of the room she had
opened, which happened to be Mr. Hatville's
room; then he groped his way to Olly's door and
In a little while, he returned alone to his friends
on the beach.
"I could n't find him," he said. Mrs. Mur-
cher sent me up to his room, but he was n't there;
and I went all over the place. Then she said she
thought he must have gone home, to show his
folks a new suit of clothes ; he had asked her if he
might; but she did n't expect him to go so soon."
Oily 's made, if he's got some new clothes "
said Moke.
He never would speak to us, after that said
Poke. Never mind; we can 'wake Nicodemus'
without him."
"Wake Nicodemus Moke shouted gleefully,
to hear his voice resound in the woods.
"Wake Nicodemus! Poke repeated. And
the three joined gayly in the chorus of a song then
Now, run and tell Elijah to hurry up Pomp,
And meet us at the gum-tree down in the swamp,
To wake Nicodemus to-day! "

The very human biped whose cries had been
mistaken for a loon's, heard their voices wafted to
him by the wind-the same wind that was blow-
ing him farther and farther from the shore.
He screamed again, wildly; but his own voice
sounded weaker and weaker, while the merry
chorus still went up from the little camping party
on the beach :
Wake Nicodemus to-day! "

The boys sang and chatted as they worked.
They made their beds in a hollow of the wind-
swept dunes, where there would be less annoy-
ance from mosquitoes than in the shelter of the
woods, and spread their hay and blankets upon
the dry sand.
Besides," said Perce, the daylight will strike
us here, and wake us early."





"Wake Nicodemus! laughed Poke. in his wave-tossed boat, could see their agile figures
And then they all burst forth again: running to and fro in the light of the flames.
"Wake Nicodemus to-day!" "There '11 be heaps of flood-wood, as well as
kelp, for us to gather to-morrow," said Perce.
The chasing clouds gathered, until the sky was Don't put any more on the fire, boys."
almost completely overcast. The moon would "Why not?" asked the twins.
not rise till
late; it be-
came dark i"
rapidly. But
as the gloom 0',-
of night thick-
ened on land i '
and sea, a lit- j I'
tle golden -
flame shot up
on the shore,
and grew
large and
bright as the 'U,
surrounding ,
shadows be- to- o
came more i -
dense. ei
It was the I c'ru
flame of the i
boys' camp- -
fire, which -
they kindled j )
on the sea- ,.'\ -
ward side of
the dunes,and 8
fed with rub-
bish from the ;
high-water .
mark of the -_
recent storm.
Later tides
had not then
plenty ofitwas
dry enough to I.
Chips and
old shingles,
bleached sea-
weed, broken
and slabs from
saw-mills on some far-away river, and other refuse, "There's no use wasting it," answered Perce,
littered the strand,-here, a broken lobster-pot adding, "We've fire enough. We'lI roast our
which the rolling waves had washed ashore, and corn and go to bed, so as to be up early. It 'll
there, a ship's fender, worn smooth, with a frag- be high tide before five to-morrow."
ment of rope still held in the auger-hole by its Then wake Nicodemus! cried Moke in a
knotted end. gleeful tone.
Such of this fuel as best suited their immediate And again the three boys raised the wild chorus
purpose the boys gathered for their fire; and Olly, of the old plantation song.
VOL. XIII.--44.


"Oily ought to be here!" said Perce. "He
must have gone home by the coast; and that 's
the way we missed him."
Even then, but for the noise of the surf and the
whistling of the wind, they might have heard
Olly's last screams; and by straining their eyes
they might have seen far out on the gloomy deep
a dim object, now rising for a moment against the
line of the evening sky, and now disappearing in
a hollow of the waves.
With hay about their heads to shelter them from
the wind, and the light of their camp-fire gleam-
ing over them, the kelp-gatherers lay under their
blankets, in the hollow of the dunes. They talked
or sang until the flames died to a feeble glimmer,
that served to bring out by contrast the surround-
ing gloom of sea and land and sky.
"Is n't it dark, though exclaimed Perce. I
had no idea it would cloud so. I believe it is
going to rain. Then shan't we be in a fix ?"
It can't rain," said Moke.
"No fear of that," added Poke, in a muffled
voice from under his blanket.
"What 's the reason? Perce demanded.
Uncle Moses said so," replied both the twins
Oh, then, of course it can't laughed Perce.
"And the wind wont change, and carry the kelp
all off, and land it on some other beach, as it did
the last time I was coming to get sea-weed here.
The wind clipped around to the nor'ard and north-
east, and in the morning this beach, that had
been covered with it, was as clean as a whistle;
while Coombs's Cove, where there had n't been
any, was full of it."
"Who 's going to wake Nicodemus in the
morning? asked Moke.
The one who's first awake himself," said Perce.
And he sang, the others joining in:

'Wake me up,' was his charge, 'at the first break of day,
Wake me up for the great jubilee! "

After that they became silent. The fire died on
the beach. The breakers plunged and drew back,
with incessant noise, in the darkness; the wind
moaned in the woods, and whistled among the
coarse sparse grass and wild peas that grew about
the dunes. But notwithstanding the strangeness
of their situation, the boys were soon asleep.
Uncle Moses proved a true prophet. There was
no rain in the huddling clouds that at one time
overspread the sky. They broke and lifted, and
bright stars peeped from under their heavy lids.
Then the moon rose and silvered them, and shed
a strange light upon the limitless, unresting, soli-
tary waves.

FOR a long time Oily could see the boys by the
light of their camp-fire, excepting when the tops
of the rolling billows hid them from view.
Although too far off at any time to recognize his
friends, he made out snatches of the song then in
vogue in his neighborhood; and he believed the
camping party to be Frog-End boys who had come
to the beach for kelp.
Sometimes they passed between him and the
fire; and finally they stood or crouched around it,
as the wavering flames died down to a bright-red
glow on the shore. To see them so near and so
happy-it seemed to him that everybody was
happy who was not paddling desperately in a frail
skiff, against a relentless wind--to hear them
singing and shouting, so wholly unconscious of him
in his distress, was intolerable agony.
"Oh, why can't they hear?" he exclaimed, in a
voice to the last degree hoarse with calling for
help. Why could n't they look this way once?
Now it is too late!"
He was by that time greatly exhausted; for
when not signaling and calling, he had been mak-
ing frantic efforts to paddle the dory against the
wind. At first he had used the oar-handle, but he
found it wholly ineffectual. Then he had torn up
one of the thwarts, but it was too short and too
clumsy for his purpose; and though for a time he
seemed to make headway, the distance from the
shore was steadily increasing.
If he could have held the boat in its course, as
with a pair of oars, he might have made progress even
with that unwieldly paddle. But he lost time and
strength in shifting it from side to side; and, spite
of all he could do, the wind and the waves would
now and then give the light, veering skiff a turn,
and he would suddenly find himself paddling out
to sea! However, those efforts prevented him
from being blown speedily out of sight of land.
And when the boys on the beach, after due prepara-
tion, stuck their ears of green corn on the sharpened
ends of sticks and roasted them in the fire, he
still kept the little group in view. He had no
doubt that they were cooking their supper. No
wonder he wept with despair at the contrast of that
cheerful scene with his own terrible situation!
The fire faded to a red eye of burning coals; all
other objects grew indistinct, excepting the black
outline of the woods against the soft evening red
of a rift in the sky, and one pure star brightening
in those ethereal depths. Another starry beam,
which he could plainly discern, but which was too
low down for a star, Oily knew must be a light in
one of the upper windows of the boarding-house.




Was it in Mr. Hatville's room? Had he re-
turned and discovered the loss of his watch ? And
could poor Oily hope ever to make restitution
and explanations? Suppose he should indeed be
,lost at sea! Would it not be believed that he had
yielded to temptation and had purposely run away
with the watch?
The danger his life was in was enough for the
wretched boy, without this fear for his reputation.


He thought of his folks at home,-his mother and
sisters, for his father was dead,--and he wondered
if they would believe him capable of a folly so
much greater than that he had in mind when he
so innocently (as it seemed to him then, but not
now) borrowed the bright bauble! And what
would Amy Canfield think?
All vanity had been killed in him from the
moment he found himself in actual peril. It made
him sick at heart to remember the satisfaction he

had so lately felt in his new clothes. He no longer
drew the watch proudly from his pocket; hardly
once did he glance downward at the big seal and
gold guard hooked in the button-hole of his vest-
a hated sight to him now.
When all hope of reaching the shore against
such a wind was gone, he still struggled to keep
the dory within hailing distance of the yacht, when
it should come beating up from the northeast.
Butno yachthove
in sight; and if
it passed, it must
have been under
the shadow of
the shore. Clouds
closed again over
the one bright
star and the patch
of silver light in
the west. The
utter desolation
of night lay about
him on the lonely,
weltering waters.
All along the
coast now he
could see occas-
ional lights the
lights in happy
dwellings; but on
the seaward side,
only a faint gleam
-s showed the line
where sky and
oceanmet. There
were no sounds
but the ceaseless
turmoil of the
billows, the fre-
quent slapping
of a wave under
the flat-bottomed
boat, and his own
fitful sobs.
His last hope
RY AGAINST THE WIND." lay in crossing
the track of some
coaster or fishing-craft that might pick him up.
But could that occur before morning ? And could he
expect that his ill-managed dory would ride safely
all night on the increasing waves? The strong
wind off shore, meeting the ocean swells, was
blowing up a heavy chop-sea that threatened a
new danger. What a night was before him, at
the best !
Suddenly his hat blew off, and disappeared im-
mediately on the black waves.





The distant sails he had seen at first had
vanished as the swift night shut down; but now
he discerned two dim lights in different directions,
evidently far away.
He was gazing after them, and looking anxiously
for nearer lights or sails, when he was aware of
a low, dark object just before him, rising from
the deep. What could it be?-with something
white flashing upon it And what was the sound
he heard?
The Cow and Calf! he exclaimed, with sud-
den excitement, almost as if he had seen a friend.



THE Old Cow" and "The Calf" are two
enormous ledges lying not far asunder, within
sight from the coast in clear weather. The
Cow" is never completely submerged; her bare
brown back appears above the highest tides.
"The Calf" is not so fortunate; the sea must
be very calm at high water, when it is not buried
in the surf.
Near one end of it, to mark the position of the
dangerous reef, a pole is anchored, rising out of
the water with a slant that has gained for it the
name of The Calf's Tail." Often at high tide
the tail only can be seen sticking out of the sea.
What Oily saw and heard was the billows comb-
ing over the end of one of those huge rocks. He
wondered why he had n't thought of them before;
for it now occurred to him that if he could land on
" The Old Cow," he might safely pass the night on
her back, and be seen from the shore, or from
some passing craft, in the morning.
But which of the ledges was he approaching?
Familiar as their forms were to him, seen from the
shore, he could not in his strange position, in the
night, and amid the dashing waves, decide whether
he was coming upon "The Old Cow" or "The
Trembling with fresh hope and fear, and pad-
dling cautiously, he strained his eyes in the dark-
ness, to get the broad outline of the ledge against
the faint sky-line. There was something awful in
the sound of the surf on those desolate rocks. The
surges leapt and fell, rushing along the reef and
pouring in dimly-seen cataracts over the ledges,
their loud buffets followed by mysterious gurglings
and murmurings, which might well appall the
heart of a wave-tossed boy.
The wind was blowing him on; but it was still
in his power to pass the end of the rock, or drive
his dory upon the windward side, where the ocean
swells broke with least force. If he could only be

sure which rock it was But he could distinguish
nothing. All was as strange to him as if he had
been adrift on the lonesomest unknown sea in the
If it was The Calf," then The Tail" should
be at the other end, and The Old Cow beyond.
If The Cow," The Calf" must be in the other
direction, and a little farther seaward ; he might
pass between the two.
He was getting used to his clumsy paddle; with
it he kept his dory off as well as he could, but in
a state of terrible anxiety, thinking his life might
depend on what he should decide to do -the next
minute. He was still hesitating, when accident
decided for him.
The skiff was headed to the wind, against which
he continued to paddle, when suddenly a billow
shot over a sunken projection of the ledge, smiting
the end of the boat with a force that slung it half
about in an instant.
Oily felt a small deluge of water dash over and
drench him from behind. He was past thinking
of his new clothes now; he thought of the dory.
Even then it might have escaped capsizing if it
had not met at the same instant a cross-wave,
which tumbled aboard from the other side.
The two filled it so nearly that the water rushed
cold across his knees; and he knew that nothing he
could do would prevent the boat from sinking.
Indeed, as the very next wave swept in, it settled
on one side, and then slowly rolled over. To
save himself, Oily sprang up, grasping first the
uppermost rail, then clinging to the bottom of the
overturned skiff, until another billow swept him
He was an accomplished swimmer, as I think I
have said before; and now that skill stood him in
good stead. In the first moment of his immersion
he lost his bearings; but rising with a wave, he
looked about him from its crest, and saw the little
island not a hundred feet away.
He made for it at once, directing his course to a
spot which the overleaping surge did not reach.
The waves were dashing all about the rock, to
be sure; and to land safely upon it at any point
would require not only vigilance, but good fortune.
I hardly know whether he was much frightened
or not; he himself could n't have told. He did n't
stop for a moment to reason about the situation,
but obeying the mere instinct of self-preservation,
he swam to the ledge.
He was lucky enough to find a spot where it
sloped gently into the sea. He 4wam in on a wave,
and as it subsided, he clung to the rock.
The broken surface of the rock was covered with
barnacles, which cut his hands; but he held on.
They also scratched his knees through his torn




clothing, as he climbed up to the smoother rocks
The slant to the water was such that he could
not, in the darkness, judge of his elevation above
the sea-level; nor could he determine, from that,
whether he had been thrown upon The Old
Cow" or "The Calf."
Yet everything depended upon the answer to
that question. If on the greater rock, he was com-
paratively safe; if on the smaller, his respite would
be brief--he might expect the next tide to carry
him off.
Groping about on the jagged summit, trying to
identify the rock by its form, his foot plashed in a
pool of water. He paused, startled by the thought
that here was a means of deciding his fate.
No doubt, much sea-spray dashed upon the back
even of The Old Cow," in rough weather. But
copious rains had succeeded the last gale ; and so,
if that little pool was on the large rock, the water

it held could not be very salt. If on the back of
"The Calf," it was the leavings of the last tide,
He felt that his doom was in the taste of that water.
He hesitated, heaving a sigh of dread; then he
stooped quickly and put his hand into the pool.
He lifted the wet fingers to his lips, and immedi-
ately grew faint- the water was bitterly salt.
Still, after a little reflection, he would not give
up all hope. The sea must have broken clear
over "The Cow's" back, in the last storm; and the
rain might have had little effect in freshening the
contents of the basin. He thought of another test.
Barnacles live in the sea, or in receptacles of sea-
water replenished at every tide. If he was upon
the back of "The Old Cow," the pool would be
free from them; if on "The Calf," there would
be the usual incrustations about its edges.
Once more he put down his groping hand;
and then he uttered a despairing wail.
The barnacles were there !

(To be continued.)







SHE good
S- .. landss"
\ \ that! "
a- .. excited
ly cried
Q Jill frighten-
ed Aunt
PoD, Deborah.
,ours,' p,,. n Aunt De-
s k 'c "" hr, a hborahmight
Al',, ", ell exclaim
rIn surprise.
I in For asshe
]t| _was knitting
di.ietly and
1 hemming a
q udt il old tune
S1I kp..I ago, one
l;1g i hd learned
z a child---
C--il!sh! bang!
came a stone into the room, shiv-
ering the window-pane, just miss-
ing the swinging lamp in the hall-
way, making an ugly scar on the
cabinet, and breaking into frag-
ments a handsome vase. Then,
as if satisfied with the mischief it had
done, it rolled lazily across the floor,
and finally stopped under the table, an inert, jag-
ged bit of granite.
Aunt Deborah, as the stone pursued its reckless
course, placed her hands over her head, and
shrank back into her chair, a frightened and un-
willing witness to the destruction of her property.
It was quite distressing.
Besides the nervous shock, there was the broken
window; there was the cabinet showing a great
white dent that could not easily be removed; and
there, too, was the vase she had kept so many
long years, lying shattered and ruined before her
Aunt Deborah was one of the best and most
kind-hearted of women; but--she was human, and
the sudden havoc wrought by the missile exasper-
ated as well as frightened her. She rushed to the
window and opened it in time to see three or four
boys scampering down the street as fast as their
legs could carry them.

Oh, you young scapegraces she cried. If
I could once lay hold on you, would n't I teach you
a lesson "
But the boys never stopped until they had dis-
appeared around a friendly corner. Aunt Deborah
was so overcome by the accident, and so intent
upon watching the retreating boys to whom she
desired to teach a lesson, that she did not at first
notice a barefooted lad standing under the window
on the pavement below, holding a battered old
hat in his hand, and looking up at her with a scared
face and tearful eyes.
Please, Miss," said the boy tremulously.
Oh Who are you ? Who threw that stone at
my window?" called out Aunt Deborah, as she
spied him.
"Please, Miss," pleaded the boy, fumbling
nervously his torn hat, I threw it, but I did n't
mean to do it."
Did n't mean to do it, eh?" replied Aunt
Doborah, fiercely. "I suppose the stone picked
itself up and pitched itself through my glass "
"I was going to throw it down the street, but
Bill Philper touched my arm, and it turned and
hit your window," he explained.
There was an air of frankness and truth about
the boy, and the fact that he had not run away
like the others (whom, somehow, Aunt Deborah
held chiefly responsible for the outrage), caused
her to relent a little toward him.
Come in here," she said, after eying him close-
ly for a moment.
The lad hesitated; but summoning all his cour-
age, he went up the steps, and soon stood in her
Do you see that" she said, pointing at the
window--"and that"-(at the cabinet)-"and
that? "-(at the broken vase) -"and that?"- (at
the stone.) 'Now, is n't that a fine performance ? "
"I am very sorry," said the boy, the tears well-
ing into his eyes again.
He looked ruefully about at the damaged articles,
and glanced at the stone, wishing heartily that he
had never seen it.
Now, what's to be done about it ?" asked she.
"I don't know, ma'am," said he, very ill at
ease. I will try to pay you for it."
What can you pay, I should like to know?"
she said, glancing at his patched coat and trousers
and his torn hat.



I sell papers," said he; "and I can pay you Let me see." Aunt Deborah put on her spec-
a little on it every week." tackles and made a critical survey of the room.
What 's your name ? she asked. "Window-fifty cents; vase-one dollar-I would
Sam Wadley," answered the boy. n't have had it broken for five! -That '11 do-
Have you a father ?" one dollar and a half. I shan't charge you for the
No, ma'am," replied Sam; "he's dead." dent in the furniture."
Have you a mother? "I '11 try to pay you something on it every
"Yes, ma'am." week," said Sam. There are some days when I
"What does she do?" continued Aunt Deborah. don't make anything; but when I do, I '11 save it
She sews, and I help her all I can, selling for you."
papers." "Very well," said Aunt Deborah; "you may
How can you pay me anything then ? go now."
"Please, ma'am, I '11 tell Mother all about it, He thanked her, and went slowly out, while


and she '11 be willing for me to pay you all I Aunt Deborah began to pick up the fragments
m strewn over the floor.
"Well, now, we'll see if you are a boy to keep Oh, wait a moment!" she cried.
his word," said Aunt Deborah. Sam came back.
hisHow rd,"uch must I pay?Debor" Sam inquired anx- Take this stone out with you, and be careful
what you do with it, next time," she said. By


the way, if you wish to keep out of trouble, you'd
better not keep company with that Flipper boy-"
Aunt Deborah had a rather poor memory for
names-" if I had him, would n't I give him a
lesson! "
She uttered the last sentence with such a relish,
that Sam was glad enough to get away. He was
afraid she might conclude to bestow upon him the
salutary lesson which she had proposed to give
" Flipper," as she called him.
Sam hurried home as fast as he could. His
mother, a pale, delicate woman whose wan feat-
ures and sunken eyes showed the effects of too
hard work, heard his simple tale, wiped away his
tears and encouraged him in his resolve to pay
for the damage he had done.
From that day, Sam began to be very diligent,
and to earn pennies in every honest way possible
to him. And every week he carried some small
amount to Aunt Deborah.
"That boy has some good in him," she said
when he had brought his first installment. And
though she grew more kind toward him every
time he came, occasionally giving him a glass of
milk, a sandwich or a cake, she rarely failed to
warn him against the influence of that Flipper"
His young companions laughed at him for pay-
ing his money to Aunt Deborah, and called him
a coward for not running away when they ran;
but all they said did not turn him from his purpose.
One evening he went with a cheerful heart to
pay his last installment.
As he passed the window of the sitting-room he
glanced in. There sat Aunt Deborah, earnestly
knitting. The lamplight fell upon her sober face
and Sam wondered if she ever looked really smil-
ing and pleasant. It does n't seem as though she
would be so stiff with a fellow," he said to him-
self. Then, in response to her "Come in," he
entered the room and handed her his money.
I believe that is all, ma'am," said he.
Yes, that pays the whole sum," said Aunt
Deborah; "you have done well."
I am still very sorry I have troubled you, and
I hope you forgive me," he said.
I do, with all my heart," said she earnestly.
"Thank you," said Sam, as he started out,
picking his old hat from the floor, where he had
placed it on entering.
Come back," said Aunt Deborah, I've some-
thing more to say to you."
With a startled look he turned into the room.
Aunt Deborah went to the cabinet and unlocked

it. She first took out a pair of new shoes, then
half a dozen pairs of socks, some underclothing,
two nice shirts, a neat woolen suit, and lastly a
good felt hat.
Sam," said she to the astonished lad, I have
taken your money, not because I wanted it, but
because I wished to test you. I wished to see
whether you really meant to pay me. That Flip-
per boy would never have done it, I am sure. You
have done so well in bringing me your little sav-
ings that I have learned to like you very much.
Now I wish to make you a present of these arti-
cles. In the pocket of this jacket you will find the
money you have paid me. I would n't take a cent
of it. It is yours. You must keep working and
adding to it, so that you can soon help your
mother more. Go to worknow with a light heart,
and grow up a true and an honest man. Tell
your mother that I say she has a fine son."
In making this speech, Aunt Deborah's features
relaxed into a pleasant smile; and Sam smiled
too, and was so pleased that he could hardly utter
his thanks.
"And mind you, continued she, suddenly
changing the current of his thoughts, don't asso-
ciate with that Flipper boy! "
Please, ma'am," said Sam, feeling a twinge of
conscience that his former companion should bear
so much of the blame, "you have been very kind
to me, but Bill Philper did n't know the stone
would turn as it did, and break your window."
Then why did he run away? inquired Aunt
Deborah somewhat fiercely. It 's quite proper
that you should try to excuse him, Sam; but I
should like to teach him a good lesson ? "
You -you -have taught me a good lesson,"
said Sam, with a blushing face, "and I-I-thank
you very much for it."
Aunt Deborah smiled benignly again, and
warmly bidding Sam to come often to see her,
she let him out at the door.
She felt very happy as Sam disappeared down
the street, and he was very happy, as he hurried
home with his great bundle, and told his mother all
about it, which made that good woman very hap-
py, too. So they were very happy all around.
And it all came about because Sam had stood up
like a brave boy to confess his wrong, which is
always manly; and had offered reparation for it,
which is always right; and had gone forward, in
spite of the taunts of his companions, denying
himself pleasures and comforts in order to do
that which he knew to be right, which is always



886.] TIMOTHY TIMID. 697

Ctblesirjl' kyZznnZ .Cd t P,

Once traveled tfN loneliest avy;
lr he traveled by- night
Lest he should take f-ight
t Thin gs he could see in tit day






rING is by
no means
fl one of the
,_ "lost arts,"
although inr
this age of
t-a steam and
iron, the
"good old
days of
the ship-
builders are
a thing of
the past. Of
g late years,
I however,
there has
-been a
marked in-
crease in the trade, and although the work is con-
fined principally to yachts and smaller craft, the
steady growth of this branch of boat-building offers
excellent inducements to any young man whose
tastes lie in that direction.
I know of one boy at least, now sixteen years of
age, who intends to fit himself during the next five
or six years for the occupation; and his father, a
prominent and highly successful naval architect,
believes that there is a very promising future for
American boat-building.
I take it for granted that the future boat-builder
has, as a boy, been fond of boats. He has not only
taken advantage of the rivers and ponds near his
house, has navigated them in scow, in row-boat
or in sail-boat, but I will suppose that, from the
time he has been the owner of a jack-knife, he has
been a constructor of toy boats. And, as he has
grown older and become the possessor of a tool-
chest, or, at least, of a gauge, a mallet, a saw, a
plane, and a good knife, he has wrought out mini-
ature cutters and schooners, possibly a square-
rigged ship, all of which have been much admired
by his young companions. If it has been his ob-
ject in life to become a boat-builder, he could not
have been better employed during the hours that
have not been taken up with school duties

In every business and profession there is some
one object above all others sought after, upon
which success may be said to depend. The
orator endeavors to arouse our enthusiasm, the
poet appeals to our sentiments, the lawyer to our
reason, the clergyman to our conscience. The
genius of the boat-builder lies in the one word
" form." The one thing more than all others for
which he aims to have a reputation is the ability
to give a good shape to the mass of wood or iron
coming from his hands, whether it be a man-of-
war or a sail-boat. And so it was good for the boy
that he made boats and models of boats. He was
getting, as the naval architect would say, form
impressed upon his brain." It may have been, it
probably was, a bad form, an incorrect form, but
it was something from which to start. At all
events, the boy has formed a speaking acquaint-
ance with the occupation he is about to enter.
I shall assume that at the age of sixteen he has
finished his school studies, has a good knowledge
of arithmetic and algebra, and has gone through
seven books in Euclid, with special reference to
being proficient in the fourth and seventh books.
Two years before this, we will suppose, he has ex-
pressed a desire to be a boat-builder. He has
made a model of some kind of a boat, and he has,
as occasions have permitted, visited such ship-
yards as could be found in his vicinity, and care-
fully watched the men while they were at work.
At last, at the age of sixteen, he enters the office
of a thoroughly competent naval architect, who
either is or has been a practical ship-builder. The
naval architect stands in the same relation to
ship-building that the architect of houses does to
house-building, with this difference,-not only
does he make the plan, but very often he executes
it as well.
The beginner will find his quarters very pleas-
ant. The room will be light, cheerful, and quiet.
On the walls he will probably see pictures of famous
yachts or other vessels; there will be a small library
of technical books of reference, which he will have
occasion to consult later on; there may be another
student with whom he will chat now and then
during the day; or his teacher, while they are at
work, may give him some stirring bits of yachting
reminiscence. I only mention this to show that
there is none of that strict discipline to which the

* Copyright by G. J. Manson, 1884.



boy has been accustomed at school. The fact
is, it is not needed, for, to use the language
of a well-known ship-builder, "it is a fascinating
occupation; it grows upon you; and the longer
you are in it, the better you like it, that is, of
course, if you like boats and everything pertain-
ing to them."
The boy will at first be given the drawing of a
midship, or central, section of a boat, and required
to put a body to it, to give it a bow, a stern in
short, to give to the boat its form. After working
in that way for a while, he will make more extended
plans, until he is able to make the full design of a
vessel. He will remain with this naval architect for
the space of a year; and, by that time, he should
have acquired a very good knowledge of form.
It is a fact that boys in England who choose this
occupation for their life-work can more easily
obtain a thorough education in it than can be had
by youths in our country. In England, and in
France, Denmark, and other European countries,
there are schools where special technical instruction
is given, and many of these are close to large ship-
yards, where the practical work of ship-building
can constantly be seen. The question now arises,
therefore, shall the boy go to England and get the
benefit of this instruction? It is by no means nec-
essary that he should go there; but if he has
begun to learn while young, he can spare the
time, and his parents know whether they can
spare the money which such a journey and resi-
dence would entail. If he decides to go, he will
remain away for three or four years.
Suppose, however, it is decided that he can not
go abroad. It has cost him for the year's instruc-
tion he has received from the naval architect, with
whom he had been studying, about $1ooo; or, he
has given his services as a draughtsman, paid $500,
and during the twelve months has picked up "
such knowledge as he could without receiving any
regular instruction. His case of drawing-instru-
ments has cost him from $50 to $250, depending on
the number of instruments, the manner in which
they are finished and the style of the case in which
they are kept. Let us assume that he has been
a full-pay pupil. His time is, of course, his own.
It would be a good plan, after he has acquired
some theoretical knowledge of the business, to
regularly visit a shipyard and there begin to do
the practical work which falls to the lot of the
boat-builder; studying in the office one-half the
time and working in the yard the other half.
Now you will see, as I observed before, that boat-
building is a profession and a trade. It is possible
to be simply a naval architect and only make de-
signs for boats, but it is not advisable; it is better,
by all means, to have the practical knowledge

which is obtained working among the men in the
They do not now apprentice boys as they did
some fifty years ago. I have before me an indent-
ure paper of a ship-builder (now alive) dated in the
year 1825. In it he promises not to waste his
master's goods; not to contract matrimony within
the said term; not to play at cards, dice, or any
unlawful game, nor frequent ale-houses, dance-
houses, or play-houses, but in all things behave
himself as a faithful apprentice ought to do during
the said term." There are no such rules laid
down nowadays. Perhaps all the boys are so good
that none are needed. All that needs to be done
now is for the boy to make his verbal agreement
with the owner of the shipyard, and go to work.
And now a word or two as to this practical work
which will cover the second method of learning
boat-building as mentioned at the beginning of my
paper. The boy who has not had the benefit of
any previous training with an instructor may have
to commence with turning the grindstone. The
tools used in boat-building are in such constant use
that they grow dull very soon, and the grindstone
is kept going almost the whole of the day. Be-
sides, the work being very heavy, the men gen-
erally work in couples, so that the learner when he
is not turning the grindstone is assisting in lifting
the heavy timbers that have to be used. The first
tool he is generally permitted to use is the saw;
then he begins to use the adze; then he is
trusted with the ax, and helps get out the plank-
ing and timber for the frame of the ship.
Then comes the difficult part of construction.
The apprentice must have learned all this work
with the tools (of which I am only able to make a
passing mention), before he comes to the construct-
ive part; that is, the part that our pupil has been
studying with the naval architect.
Before the building of the ship is commenced, a
small wooden model is made, to give the owner
and the builder an idea of what she is going to
look like.
"A little model the master wrought,
Which should be to the larger plan
What the child is to the man.
Doubtless, you have seen such models. They
are built sometimes on a scale of a quarter of an
inch to a foot; they are made of pieces of cedar
and pine wood, placed alternately, and show the
shape and whole arrangement of one side of the
vessel. This model is glued, on its flat side, to
a piece of board, for greater convenience in exam-
From this model, "life-size" plans of the ship
are made with chalk on the floor of a long, wide
room, like a big garret, which is used especially for



this purpose. It will not be necessary to enter
into a technical description of these plans. There
are three of them,-the sheer plan, the half-
breadth plan, and the body plan. They show the
position of the different planks to be used in the
construction of the ship. To gain a rough idea
of these plans, take a cucumber, decide which you
will call the bottom and which the top, and cut it
in the middle, lengthwise, from end to end. Look
into its interior and fancy that it is covered with
lines, both horizontal and vertical-- and that will
give you a very rough idea of the sheer plan. By
laying the cucumber on its side and cutting it
lengthwise, you will have a notion of the half-
breadth plan. A division in the middle (cutting
it in two parts, so that you can see the whole
circumference) may suggest to you the body plan.
This can not be made very clear, not even with
drawings, because it is the most technical part of
the work; but its object is apparent. From these
three plans, taken from different points of view,
the boat-builder can locate the position of every
piece of plank in his vessel. So true is this that
I understand it is possible to number the planks
of a ship, and send them off to some distant
country, where a ship-builder can construct the
vessel without ever having seen the design.
A great deal of calculation and figuring enters
into this part of the work, but much of it has been
made easy by the aid of a man (now dead, I be-
lieve) named Simpson, the author of what are
called Simpson's Rules." These rules are incor-
porated in small pocket handbooks which contain,
in addition, a large number of tables, rules, and
formulas pertaining to naval architecture. The
most popular handbook of this character in
England is said to be "Mackrow's Naval Archi-
tect and Ship-builders' Assistant," and in our
country, "Haswell's Engineers' Pocket-book of
Tables." These, however, are only aids in mak-
ing calculations, and are very much like the inter-
est tables you have probably seen, which save the
trouble of going through the figuring in detail.
There are a great many books which will be inter-
esting and valuable to the young ship-builder.
To give you some idea of their character, I copy

the following from the table of contents of a
recent standard work: "The displacement and
buoyancy of ships;" "The oscillations of ships in
still water;" "The oscillation of ships among
waves; " Methods of observing the rolling and
pitching motions of ships; "The structural
strength of ships," etc.
These titles may not at present indicate a very
promising literary feast, but when the young boat-
builder has mastered the rudiments of the tech-
nical part of the profession, he will read and re-
read such productions with as much pleasure as
he now peruses the stories in ST. NICHOLAS.
I have not entered into the details of iron ship-
building, the practical part of which the boy will
learn in the same yard in which he learns to work
in wood; for it is presumed that he is going to
some large yard to obtain his instruction. Indeed,
in this occupation it is the practical part that is
the easiest and the most interesting to young learn-
ers. They are apt to slight the theoretical knowl-
edge required and to long to spend their time in the
shipyard with real tools, doing real work, for a
real ship. With the boy who, through force of
circumstances, has to enter on the life of a journey=
man and earn wages, there is more excuse for
hastening to that branch of the work than for the
lad who is better situated in life. The journeyman
will learn construction last and from his master.
Under the plan I have suggested, the other lad will
learn the general principles of construction before
he goes to the shipyard ; at least he will not have
to commence with turning the grindstone. His
first few visits will be confined to watching the men
at their work; then he will gradually make him-
self familiar with the use of the different tools.
The journeyman will receive at first $i a day;
during the second year, $1.50 a day, and be grad-
ually advanced untilhe receives the regular wages,
at the present time from $3 to $3.25 a day. It
would not be advisable to make any estimate of
the profits of boat-building as a business, for, no
matter what they are now, by the time my young
reader has started a shipyard, they may be entirely
different, owing to the increase or decrease in the
cost of material and labor.







OH, they were as happy as happy could be,
Those two little boys who were down by the sea,
As each with a shovel grasped tight in his hand,
Like a sturdy young laborer dug in the sand !

And it finally happened, while looking around,
That, beside a big shell, a small star-fish they found,-
Such a wonderful sight, that two pairs of blue eyes
Grew large for a moment with puzzled surprise.

Then-" I know," said one, with his face growing bright,
" It 's the dear little star that we 've watched every night;
But last night, when we looked, it was nowhere on high,
So, of course, it has dropped from its home in the sky! "





WELL, if that is n't the queerest sight exclaimed a passenger on -
the cars going from Flushing to New York, last Independence Day.
And all the passengers on that train, and on all other trains during the

day, echoed the same words. It
Away up in the blue
sky, and all alone, like a
new declaration of inde-
pendence, fluttered that
soul-stirring piece of bunt-
ing, the stars and stripes.
Not a sign of pole or sup-
port of any kind could the
sharpest eye discern; and
yet, as steadily as if fixed
on the dome of the na-
tional capitol, it waved its -
gay stripes in the joyous
breeze. It was a very
mysterious flag.
There was, however,
one individual who was
both able and willing to
clear away the mystery-
a certain jovial man who,
on the morning of that
particular day, sat in
exceedingly airy attire on
the front porch of the
boat-house of the Nereus
Boat Club. As his striped
shirt, knee-breeches, and skul
indicated, Captain Jack Walker wa


vas a very stra:


nge occurrence.

h -

- -- -

as an oarsman.
He afterward explained to his faithful crew that he
had gone to the boathouse early that morning, and
while there had been struck with a novel idea. The
result of that idea was the mysterious flag which was
waving over the salt marsh by Flushing Bay, and was
puzzling the brains of many good citizens.
S Fastened to the top of the flagpole of the club's boat-
house was the end of a piece of hempen twine. By
S following that piece of twine, which ran away into space
at an angle of sixty degrees, the eye came at length to
the floating flag. By looking closely, moreover, one
could gradually discern that from the flag the twine ran
up five or six hundred feet higher to a tiny kite-
tiny, as seen away up there in the blue ether; but,
II r in fact, a monster kite.
Captain Jack had first sent up that great kite which
some one had left at the boathouse, and had let it out five
Sor six hundred feet; then he took a flag about five feet
long, which belonged to one of the boats, and fastened


the upper end of its stick firmly to the kitestring.
He next broke the lower end of the flagstick so as
to leave a short projection (a), just long enough for
him to fasten a piece of twine to it.
Then he again let the kite out, and also the string
he had attached to the lower end of the flagstick. As
soon as the flagstick was vertical, the line a, b (see
preceding page) was knotted securely to the kite-
string at b. All that was necessary then was to
let out about five hundred feet more twine, and Cap-

tain Jack's Fourth-of-July kite was soon gayly flying.
There was to be a regatta that afternoon, how-
ever, and the gallant oarsman could not sit idly
holding a kitestring in his hand. So he hauled
down the boat club's flag, tied the kitestring to
the flag-halyards and then hoisted both flag and
kitestring to the top of the flagpole; and so his
Fourth-of-July banner floated serenely in the sky
all day long,-a beautiful sight, and an object of
much surprise and wonder to all who saw it.


IT I had a big kite,
With a Very short tail,
Apdc a Vepy Stout cord,-
Apd h-er-e care a greatt gale,-

I 'd bold Tast to the Strpirg,
Ard au)ay uLe uould fly,
I aid nry kite,
JU, up to the Sky !


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TIPPIE and Jimmie had come over to play with
Ajax. Tip's whole name is Tippecanoe. The boys
call him a black and tan, but Bessie calls him a
darling. He has a little black shining nose that
he is always sticking into everything, and a little
smooth, tapering tail that he is always wagging.
Jimmie's name is James Stuart; he is a little
Maltese kitten, with gentle blue eyes, and soft fur
that is always ready to be smoothed, and claws
that are never used where they can hurt, and a
purr that is always wound up.
Tippie and Jimmie live together, and eat to-
gether, and are the best of friends.
Ajax is the kitten that lives next door. He is jet
black, excepting a little white spot where his cravat
should have been tied. And he has a long black tail
that often waves over his back like a banner. He
has large green eyes that snap and shine when he
plays, and he has just begun to look for mice.
One day Tippie and Jimmie came around to the
kitchen door of the house where Ajax lived, and
looked in.
They could not see Ajax, so Jimmie began to
climb up the screen door, sticking his claws into
the holes. He had not climbed far before the
lady of the house saw him, and she said:
"Here's Jimmie looking for Ajax. Come, Ajax,
where are you ?"
Ajax was asleep on the lounge, but he jumped
up and came running to the door, for he comes
when he is called, "quicker than any of the other
children," Mamie says.
He touched noses with Jimmie, and then he took
his visitors around to the front porch. There, he
and Jimmie leaped upon a chair and shook their
paws at Tippie, who was on the floor. Then Tip-
pie got upon another chair, and Ajax ran under it
and reached up to play with him.
It really seemed as if they knew how pretty they
looked. After a while, they all three had a good

race up and down, over chairs, under chairs, and
through chairs. Sometimes Ajax stood on the
back of a chair and poked his paw at Tippie, and
sometimes he ran to the top of a high rocking-
chair and jumped down to the porch railing. Jim-
mie was not so venturesome, however.
Soon they grew tired of such play, and then they
rushed out-of-doors, and down upon the grass.
There, Tippie began to tease Jimmie. He pushed
him over, and stepped upon him, and nosed him,
and even bit him gently, till Jimmie suddenly cried
out, Meow-ow-ow !"
Ajax had been quietly looking on, with a shade
of contempt on his handsome countenance; but
when he heard that appeal, he rushed at Tippie and
pushed him away from Jimmie and scratched him,
and chased him from one end of the yard to the
other, two or three times.
When they stopped to rest after their run, Ajax
settled himself comfortably on the grass, perfectly
quiet, except for the tip of his tail, which moved
just a little. Tippie watched that tail with longing.
He danced around and around Ajax. He pranced
forward and skipped back, and practiced all his
dancing-steps, before he dared touch it. At last
he boldly rushed upon it, and a moment later Ajax
held him fast around the neck, and with heads
close together, and smothered growls of happiness,
the cat and the dog were rolling over and over.
Then, they suddenly let go, and stood half a foot
apart, glaring at each other for a second, before
they rushed together again, and went through the
whole frolic once more.
Mamie and Herbert had seen it all while building
ships, in the side yard, and as they watched the
grand closing scene, Herbert, in the tone of an
oracle, announced,
The Moral:
It is good to be good-natured, but bad to be
imposed upon."



" I TELL you," said Robbie, eating his peach,
And giving his sister none,
" I believe in the good old saying that each
Should look out for Number One."
VOL. XIII.-45.

" Why, yes," answered Katie, wise little elf,
"But the counting should be begun
With the other one instead of yourself,-
And he should be Number One."









A SUDDEN tumult arose one day,
In the nursery overhead.
'T was like wild horses a-galloping there,
Or a whole procession led.
Nursie, with face'of terror,
Deserted her cup of tea,
And rushed up the stair, in a state of despair,
To see what the noise might be.

She found in the room three Zulu chiefs
Prancing across the floor.
Their faces beamed, as they danced and screamed,
And their arms waved more and more.
In a corner sat Ted, the baby,
Silent and pale with fright:
" We 're amusing the baby-Oh, Nurse, come and see "
Cried the Zulus in great delight.

" Oh, horrors cried Nursie in anger,
Rushing to poor little Ted.
" To go on that way, such ridic-u-lous play -
'T will put the child out of his head "
-With expressions of injured goodness,
Stood Dudley, and Gordon, and Fred,
" Why, Nursie, how mean !-We should think you 'd have seen,
We 're amusing the baby !" they said.




THE Brownies heard the news with glee,
That in a city near the sea
A spacious building was designed
For holding beasts of every kind.
From polar snows, from desert sand,
From mountain peak, and timbered land,

Less time it took the walls to scale
Than is required to tell the tale.
The art that makes the lock seem weak,
The bolt to slide, the hinge to creak,
Was theirs to use as heretofore,
With good effect, on sash and door;
And soon the band stood face to face
With all the wonders of the place.

To Brownies, as to children dear,
The monkey seemed a creature queer;
They watched its skill to climb and cling,
By either toe or tail to swing;
Perhaps they got some hints that might
Come well in hand some future night,
When climbing up a wall or tree,
Or chimney, as the case might be.

Then off to other parts they 'd range
To gather 'round some creature strange;
To watch the movements of the bear,
Or at the spotted serpents stare.

S-The mammoth turtle from its pen
Was driven 'round and 'round again,
And though the coach proved rather slow
They kept it hours upon the go.

The beasts with claw and beasts with hoof,
All met beneath one slated roof.
That night, like bees before the wind,
With home in sight, and storm behind,
The band of Brownies might be seen,
All scudding from the forest green.

Said one, "Before your face and eyes
I '11 take that snake from where it lies,
And like a Hindoo of the East,
Benumb and charm the crawling beast,
Then twist him 'round me on the spot
And tie him in a sailor's knot."



Another then was quick to shout,
" We '11 leave that snake performance out!
I grant you all the power you claim
To charm, to tie, to twist and tame;
But let me still suggest you try
Your art when no one else is nigh.
Of all the beasts that creep or crawl
From Rupert's Land to China's wall,
In torrid, mild, or frigid zone,
The snake is best to let alone."

Against this counsel, seeming good,
At least a score of others stood.
Said one, "My friend, suppress alarm.
There 's nothing here to threaten harm.
Be sure the power that mortals hold
Is not denied the Brownies bold."

So from the nest, without ado,
A bunch of serpents soon they drew.
And harmlessly as silken bands
The snakes were twisted in their hands.
Some hauled them freely 'round the place;
Some braided others in a trace;

Around the sleeping lion long
They stood an interested throng,
Debating o'er its strength of limb,
Its heavy mane or visage grim.

And every knot to sailors known,
Was quickly tied, and quickly shown.
Thus 'round from cage to cage they went,
For some to smile, and some comment
On Nature's way of dealing out
To this a tail, to that a snout
Of extra length, and then deny
To something else a fair supply.

But when the bear and tiger growled,
And wolf and lynx in chorus howled,
And starting from its broken sleep,
The monarch rose with sudden leap,
And, bounding round the rocking cage,
With lifted mane, it roared with rage,
And thrust its paws between the bars,-
Until it seemed to shake the stars,



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A panic seized the Brownies all,
And out they scampered from the hall,
As if they feared incautious men
Had built too frail a prison pen;

And though the way was long and wild,
With obstacles before them piled,
They never halted in their run
Until the forest shade they won.




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: "; $ .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I want to tell little boys and girls about my two
pets. One is a hen. She lives all alone, and leaves her coop every night, and
goes in the barn, and flies up on old Jim's back, and sleeps there all night.
Old Jim is a horse. Old Jim has a blanket for cold nights. It is an old



one, and there is a hole in it on the top, and the old hen walks all around till
she finds that hole, and puts her feet in there where it is warm, and there we
find her every morning.
My other funny pet is an old cat, named Catharine. She has only three
feet, but I liked her just as well as I ever did, till last summer, when one morn-
ing we found the bird-cage door pushed in, and the bird was gone. We
have another cat. We don't know but the bird flew away; but who pushed
the door in ? I don't like any cats so well now. Your friend,


A sadder tale I never heard 1

Ralph's bird was killed,-I say so, flat,- .
By that three-footed sly old cat!
Now, I 'm a gentlemanly pup,
And I say cats should be locked up.
For every time I walk the street,
A crowd of cats I 'm sure to meet.

They rumple up my smooth, clean coat,
They spoil my collar, scratch my throat, __
They rush and push, and tease and whirl
And pull my ears all out of curl.-
There 's nothing on four legs as rude
As cats and kittens are.
A crowd of Yats I 'm sure to meet.

As cats and kittens are.

. 1886.]


" DUDE."


___ 0

i .. .
-. .. ~ -. i


If I drum in the house,
" Oh, what a noise you make "
Sighs Mamma. Baby '11 wake! "
If in the garden green
I drum, our Bridget cries:
"Ye '11 mak' me spile the pies
And cakes I can not think!
That droom destroys me wit!
Be off, me b'y,- or quit! "
If I drum in the street,
Out comes Miss Peters, quick,
And says her ma is sick;
Or Doctor Daniel Brown
Calls from his window: Bub,
That dreadful rub-a-dub
Confuses my ideas.
My sermon is not done.
Run on, my little son !

The creeps crawl up my back
When I am still, and oh,
Nobody seems to know
How very tired I get
Without some sort of noise,
Such as a boy enjoys!

Last summer, on the farm,
I used to jump and shout,
For Grandpa Osterhout
And Grandma both are deaf.
But soon some neighbors came
And said it was a shame,
The way I scared them all.
They called my shouts "wild yells,"
And asked if I had spells"
Or "fits, or anything."
You see, grown people all
Forget they once were small.

Now, is n't there one place
Where "wriggley" tired boys
Can make a stunning noise
And play wild Injun-chief,
And Independence-day,
And not be sent away?
Or was that place left out?
Dear Jack, please tell me true;
I 've confidence in you.
Your friend without end,

This is a very touching epistle, my hearers, and
Tommy has my hearty sympathy. There must
be such a place as he is looking for, though the
Deacon says that in the course of a long life he
has never happened upon the exact locality. Ac-
cording to the Little School-ma'am, too, it is not
described in any of the geographies; but she says
that, for the sake of all concerned, it is very desira-
ble that the missing paradise of little drummer
boys should be discovered ; -to which the Deacon
adds, Perhaps that's why the grown folk wish
to find the North Pole."
While we are upon this subject, here is a letter
describing some tiny drummers that make almost
as much noise as patriotic youngsters, and do
quite as much mischief. To his credit, however,
it must be said that this other small musician only
makes his appearance as a drummer once in sev-
enteen years. Is he bent on setting an example,
I wonder? He is called

DEAR JACK: The seventeen-year locust is n'talocust at all. This
may seem a strange thing to say, but it is true, nevertheless. The
locust looks very much like a grasshopper, while the seventeen-
year cicada, which is the insect's proper name, looks a great deal
more like a gigantic fly than anything else.
There is a cicada which comes every year, and is also wrongly
called alocust. Anybody who has been in the country about har-
vest-time has heard the shrill noise made by this cicada and prob-
ably has come upon his cast-off shell sticking to a fence-rail or a
The seventeen-year cicada is a cousin of the one-year chap; though,
as he comes only once in every seventeen years, he is probably only
a far-away cousin. Fancy spending the best part of your life prowl-
ing about in the darkness underground and then coming up into the
sunlight with a gorgeous pair of wings, only to die in a short time!
That is what the seventeen-year cicada does. In the very first place,
it is an egg which its mother deposits in a tiny hole in a twig. In a
few weeks it makes its way out of the egg and drops to the ground,
into which it burrows, and in which it remains for nearly seventeen
years before it is prepared for life above ground.
When, at last, it is ready for the bright sunlight, it may be one
foot from the surface or it may be ten feet deep in the ground. In
either case it begins to dig upward until it finds its way out, when it
climbs up the nearest tree and fastens itself by its sharp claws to a
leaf or twig. There it waits until its back splits open, and behold !
it immediately crawls out of itself, so to speak.
The new insect is a soft, dull fellow at first, but he grows as if he
had been storing up energy for seventeen yeals for just that one
purpose. Within an hour, two pairs of most beautiful wings have
grown, and in a few hours more it has become hard and active.
The female cicadas are quiet enough, but the males are as noisy
as so many little boys with new drums. Indeed, they do have
drums themselves. Just under their wings are drums made of shiny
membrane as beautiful as white silk, and these are kept rattling
almost all the time.
One cicada can make noise enough; but imagine the din of
millions of them all going at the same time. It sounds as if all the



frogs in thecountry had come together to try to drown the noise of
a saw-mill. Now it is the saw-mill you hear, and now the frogs.


It sounds like .-
a big story to say -
millions, but if
you could go into .
the woods where
they are, you ,.
might be willing 0,
to say billions. I
have counted over a thousand cast-off shells on one small tree, and
on one birch leaf I have seen twelve shells. And the earth in some
places is like a sieve from the holes made by the cicadas as they
came out.
But within a few weeks from the insects' first appearance their eggs
have been laid and the cicadas have all died. A great many of
them are eaten by the birds and chickens, but most of them simply
can not live any longer. Yours truly,

As IT appears from Mr. Coryell's letter that the
seventeen-year cicada is only an imitation locust,
I shall give you a portrait of another member of
the family who is, perhaps, more nearly related to
the insect he is named after. At all events, he is
certainly more like a grasshopper than is the
seventeen-year cicada. The grasshopper that lives
in this part of the world is a fine fellow to hop,
as you know, but he always lights on his feet, and
looks as composed and as much at his ease as if
he had walked to the spot in the most dignified
Well, now look at this picture! See one absurd
fellow lying on his back and pawing the air with

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all his long legs, and another, like a circus clown,
standing on his own foolish green head. Would
you think these awkward and ridiculous creatures
bore any relationship to the grave little hoppers

who gently alight on your clothes as you run
through the grass, stop a moment to stare at you
with their great goggle
_. ,'/ eyes, and then take leave
SF -1 i without saying "good-
S' morning "?
He is no less than a
cousin, I assure you,
S' from the Far West, the
p ". ,' great plains where few
beasts, birds, or insects
S -: can find enough to live
S-: upon. This fellow does
*-:.-a, not suffer for food; he
is the biggest of his
family in America, and
his curious performances
S i ve brought him several
noes. By some people he
i .. ,ll..d the clumsy grasshop-
F.-r." .i,.1 by others he is dubbed
d t!.: ..,- t hlbber locust," while by the
I: ..,i. r,.. n, -is usual, he has been given
i-, Lt it, ,anir:. Of course, you will be so
eager to know it tlla you will wish to find it out for
yourselves !


BY the way, a story is told of a dog that was
fond of snapping up grasshoppers, and eating them.
In one of his journeys with his master, he chanced
to fall among those queer grasshoppers -the
lubber locusts. As he ran along through the grass,
his feet started up hundreds of the clumsy fellows,

and, in trying to jump out of his way, they came
down in groups upon him, as you see in the picture.
Some stood on their heads upon his back; others
turned somersaults over his ears, and a few struck
him full in the face. Besides being impertinent
they were very large, each two or three times the
size and weight of one ,of our modest little hoppers.
So poor Tom was first annoyed, and then scared.
One or two, or even half a dozen, he could eat up or
drive away, but a hundred were too many, and at
last Tom dropped his head and tail and ran for his
life, while his master scolded, and his master's
friend laughed at the droll sight of a big dog run-
ning away from grasshoppers.




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

If C. F. H. will send us her address, we shall gladly forward to her
a number of letters sent us by readers of ST. NICHOLAS, in answer
to her query.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: While reading in the November number
of ST. NICHOLAS about "Our Joe," I thought some of the ST.
NICHOLAS readers would be interested in hearing about our Joe.
Our Joe is a Broncho pony that belonged to Rain-in-the-face, a
chief in one of Sitting Bull's bands. When the ponies were taken
and driven down in a drove, Our Joe got loose from the others and
was caught somewhere near here. His name was Joe, but when
Papa brought him home and we saw how little he was, we called
him Little Joe, and when we rode him he went so easy we named
him Littlejoe Dandy.
We have a little red cart we call the dump, to drive him in. He is
such a funny little fellow that everybody has to take a second look at
him. I am five feet tall, and his shoulders are not quite as high as
mine; his hair in winter is as thick and long as a buffalo's; his tail
touches the ground, and his mane hangs far down on his shoulders,
and is always stuck full of burrs in summer. His color is iron-gray,
if it's anything, but it's hard to tell what color he is. I had my
picture taken on horseback, and he looks as if he was about ready
to fall asleep, but he has life in him if he takes a notion to go He
is mean to the boys. He picked my brother up by the shoulder and
shook him, and one day he kicked Papa.
There was a pair of them- Our Joe and a Little Buckskin. The
Buckskin would bunt his head against Joe, as a signal to go, and
then they would make things fly Every one who knew the pony
before we got him says he was so ugly, it was dangerous to go
around him; but he is the kindest little fellow to us. If I go out in
the pasture where he is, he will follow me everywhere I go. We
think the world of him. Hoping my letter is not too long, I remain,
our constant reader, H. C.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I live in Chicago, where the boys play
marbles almost all the time in the spring. I am a fairly good player.
I have six hundred and four. I hope the boys who read ST. NICH-
OLAS will try to get as many marbles.
Yours truly, CHESHIRE S.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I am a little girl seven years old, and live
alone with my father, who is a Baptist missionary. I have a mother,
and little brother, and two sisters, living in the States.
I have learned to spell the names of three places that I can see
from our roof. They are Chapultepec, and Popocatepetl, and
There are lots of strange things here. We never slide downhill
here, because there is no snow. I like ST. NICHOLAS, especially the
"Brownies." EDWINA S.

B-A, N. J.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: In looking over our old ST. NICHOLASES we
found, in the January number for 1882, a piece entitled, "Puppets
and Puppet Shows," and as it struck our fancy, we agreed to try it.
After several attempts, we succeeded in obtaining very good figures.
With a little ingenuity and the plans of three busy brains, we ar-
ranged an excellent screen and scenery; then, with two of us to work
and one to read, the puppets were set in motion. Our audience,
though not large, was an appreciative one, and the show was a grand
success. The puppets were carefully placed in a box, and will be
kept for another entertainment.
Last summer we girls made a twine house in our orchard. A
couple of cows strayed in one afternoon and ran through the house,
and the chickens dug up a number of the morning-glories; but, in
spite of these obstacles, a great many happy hours were spent in the
We wait impatiently from one month to another for your pleasant
magazine, and we remain,
Your interested readers, PUss-IN-BOOTS,"

CAMILLA VAN KLEECK: The article you wish is entitled "Lady
Bertha," and was printed in ST. NICHOLAS for December, z880.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: This is the first year I have ever taken you
and the first year I have ever lived on a farm. I enjoy reading your
stories and enjoy living on a farm. When I lived in the city I could
not have as many pets as I can out here. Neither should I have had.
you. You are sent us through the kindness of a Mr. Ames, to whom I
should like to extend my thanks through your columns. I also wish
to thank you for making your pages so interesting to us boys andi
girls. Yours truly,
W. S. B.

ST. Louis.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have taken the ST. NICHOLAS for three-
years, and I like it very much. I take it for my little sisternow, but
always read it first myself, and enjoy it very much, and so does my
little sister. I send it to her by mail after I am through with it.
I have been making my own living for five years, and I do not get
much time to read. I almost always read the ST. NICHOLAS going
and coming from work, as I have to take the street-car.
Seven years ago, I came from Sweden and could not speak a word'
of English, but now everybody takes me for an American.
There is some splendid coasting and skating in Sweden, but I do
not think the young people here would enjoy going to boarding-
school there; at least, not the one I went to. They are very strict.
For instance, once when I did not know my lesson, I had to stay up,
until 12 o'clock that night and study it by moonlight, without having
had a bit of supper; and the next morning, instead of my breakfast,
I had to stand in the center of the dining-room and watch the others
eat. I intend to write a storywhen I get older, and relate my
experience there.
I should feel very proud if you would print this letter, as it is the
first one I have written to you.
Yours truly, Jo.

MAY BRIDGES: The address which you desire is The Art Inter-
change, 37 West 22d street, New York City, N. Y."

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I live about a mile from the Great Father
of Waters." I can not see the river from my home, but as I go to
school in McGregor I can see it every day.
McGregor is a small town of about 2ooo inhabitants. It is nestled
in among the hills, and some people think it a very pretty place;
indeed, some think it ought to be a summer resort.
About a mile and a half from here is the highest bluff on the Missis-
sippi, called Pike's Peak. I suppose it is named after the famous
Pike's Peak in Colorado. From it there is a very lovely view. We
can see the mouth of the Wisconsin River, the State of Wisconsin,
and a great distance up and down the Mississippi. The river is full
of islands near here. Believe me your loving reader,

L. M.: You can obtain the information you wish, by referring to
article Iamblichus" in Smith's Dictionary of Greek and Roman
Biography and Mythology.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: This is the second year we have taken
you; at least, the second year since I can remember. We took you
some years ago, and then stopped, and started again two years ago.
When Papa told us each to vote for which paper we wanted last
year, I think we all voted for you, and take you again this year. I
look forward to your coming with delight. I must confess I am
selfish aboutit, for I always try to get you first.
This is a quiet old town, with beautiful scenery all around it. There
are no mountains, but it lies between two high hills, in a little val-
ley. Washington used to live here, and his house is only a square
from ours. Mary Washington's monument is quite near, and we
often go there. I have often climbed the heights where the battle of
Fredericksburg was fought. It overlooks the quiet little town,


peacefully slumbering, and it is hard to realize that once the shells
and balls were flying across it from hill to hill. I have lived most of
my life here, and I think it the nicest place in the world. I fear I
have tired you with my long letter. So now, good-bye, dear old Sir.
NICHOLAS. I look forward already to your next coming. I remain,
your devoted reader, CARRIE B.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have a brother who is nearly seventeen
years old. He had the first number of ST. NICHOLAs, and we
have taken it most of the time ever since. I have a year's sub-
scription for my birthday. I am always glad when the time comes
for you. Your reader, SARAH B. H.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl eleven years old, and
take your magazine. I am deeply interested in "Little Lord Faun-
tleroy" and "George Washington," and hope they will be con-
tinued for a long time. I have a number of pets; among them are
nine cats, which I like better than all the others. One is very large;
he weighs eleven and a half pounds. He stays in the house 'most
all the time. His name is Toddlekins, and he goes to bed with my
brother every night. We live on a farm, and keep five horses. In
summer we go to ride almost every day. I have a pair of wooden
horses, which I will describe to you, as it may interest some of your
little readers. You take a keg and bore four holes in the side of it,
and then take short round handles and put four of them into the
holes. Then take two shingles and drive them into one end of the
keg (for a neck) ; then take another shingle and cut to the shape
of a horse's head, and put it between the two shingles that have
been driven on to the top of the keg; then put a feather duster in
the other end, and you have a horse complete; when done, they are
comical-looking enough. I like to read the letters in the Letter-box.
I hope you will print my letter, as I have not written one before.
Your interested reader, M. C. B.

A helfor memorizing United States History.
FATHER WASHINGTON left us united and free,
And John Adams repelled French aggression at sea;
Boundless Louisiana was Jefferson's crown,
And when Madison's war-ships won lasting renown,
And the steam-boat was launched, then Monroe gave the world
His new doctrine; and Quincy his banner unfurled
For protection. Then Jackson, with railways and spoils,
Left Van Buren huge bankruptcies, panics, and broils.
Losing Harrison, Tyler by telegraph spoke;
And the Mexican war brought accessions to Polk.
Taylor lived not to wear the reward of ambition,
And Fillmore's sad slave-law stirred up abolition ;
So, compromise failing, Pierce witnessed the throes
Of the trouble in Kansas. Secession arose
Through the halting Buchanan. But Lincoln vas sent
To extinguish rebellion. Then some years werespent
Reconstructing by Johnson. Grant lessened our debt;
Hayes resumed specie-payments; and Garfield was set
On Reform, which, as Arthur soon found, came to stay.
Now for President Cleveland good citizens pray.

MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I have been a subscriber to your
charming magazine for over three years, and have never yet read a
letter dated Greenville, S. C., so thought I would write to you from
that place. Greenville is a city in the upper part of South Carolina.
It is divided into two parts by a small river which ., 1... :
and on which are several cotton-mills. It is about I, ...' ,*
Casar's Head, a mountain said to bear a striking resemblance to a
profile view of the human face. It used to be a stopping-point for
travelers on their way to Greenville. During the very severe weather
last winter, we thought that our town, instead of being called Green-
ville, should be named after some snowy berg of Greenland.
It seems to be the custom of your correspondents to give their
ages and a minute description of their occupation, so I will follow.
I am fourteen years old, and have never been to school a day in
my life, my mother having always taught me at home until this
year, when I have a tutor for Algebra and Latin. I continue
the study of French with my mother, using Fasquelle's Grammar
and reading a pretty story called Le Petit Robinson de Paris," be-
sides having lessons in English composition, geography, history,
declamation, music, and drawing.

I am a lineal descendants, being a great-great-granddaughter, of
"The Martyrofthe Revolution," ashe is sometimes called, Colonel'
Isaac Hayne, who was hanged by the British, and of whose execution
at Charlestown a very interesting account is given by Ramsay, in his
"History of South Carolina." My grandmother had a lock of Colonel
Hayne's hair. It was a beautiful chestnut color, and had a slight
wave through it. I am also a cousin of the poet, Paul Hayne.
I like all the stories in ST. NICHOLAS, but my favorite is Little
Lord Fauntleroy," who seems to be a second Paul Dombey, with
his quaint, old-fashioned sayings. I hope he will not die shut up
in the gloomy castle, with his cross old grandfather, away from the
companionship of" Dearest."
With best wishes for the welfare of your I..l;.:1.,..l ... :ine, I
remain, Your devoted reader, I .. H.

TWO TOADS went out to take a walk,
And being old friends they had a long talk.
Said one to the other, "A leaf I see.
Will you be so kind as to bring it to me? "
"Of course! said the other. Let's build us a house,.
And have for a pony a little gray mouse."
"Yes," said the other, "and a carriage too,
Of a nice red tulip, which I '11 bring to you."
They built them the carriage and harnessed the mouse,
And drove to the mill-pond to build them a house.
They built them a house very near to the mill,
And if they 're not dead, they are living there still.
MABEL WVILDER (9 years old).

We print this little letter just as it came to us.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I like you very nuch. since we have
been taking you we ...: ;.. I : they arequite cute.
S LONGLEY (aged eight).

A young friend sends us this drawing, which he calls:


EDITOR ST. NICHOLAS: I thought that perhaps the following
description of a sort of kaleidoscope would be of service to your
magazine, for the entertainment of your young readers, on a rainy
Have the room brilliantly lighted, then raise the lid of a square


- .. .,


piano just as if for a player, but, instead of resting it on the surface
of the piano itself, let it rest upon two or three large books placedon
the top of the piano, so as to form at the front, where the hinges are,
an angle of sixty degrees. Cover the open side of the triangle thus
formed with a thick cover, which should extend also over the crack
caused by the hinges of the lid. Thus you will have a hollow, tri-
angular prism, the length of the piano, open at both ends. Polish
well with a silk duster the inside of one end of this triangular prism ;
hold pieces of crazy patchwork, or long pieces of silk ribbon,--the
more variegated and brilliant the colors the better,--in a large hang-
ing bunch, and shake gently about two inches in front of the pol-
ished end toward the angle of the front, while the spectator looks
through the opposite end of the kaleidoscope. A watch, chain, or
looking-glass among the ribbons makes a pleasing variety.
Yours very respectfully,
P. S. The lid on the top of an upright piano may also form a
kaleidoscope in the same way, but smaller.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am one of the many little folk who have
listened to readings from your pages all my life. I am too small to
write you a letter all myself, so Mamma will write it, for I wish to
tell you about our salt crystals. You remember you told us how to
make them, in your number for July, 1884. Mamma and I each
started one, and every one thinks they are great curiosities. Papa
photographed them so that you could see them also. The large one
belongs to Mamma, and the small one is mine; they are about five
months old. We have ceased adding salt and water, and have them
under a glass shade, one resting on the other, and they make a
very pretty ornament. Every time we stop to admire them we smack
our lips and think how well-seasoned the ST. NICHOLAS always is.
We receive our ST. NICHOLAS on the 25th of each month, and,
dear Editor, you may always know that on that night there is a little
hand resting under a pillow, holding tightly your enjoyable book
waiting for the mor to dawn.
Lovingly yours, HAROLD H. T.


WE thank the young friends whose names here follow for pleasant
letters received from them: J. G. F., Bettie M. K., Gussie and Nannie
M., Edith Norris, Harold K. Palmer, J. E. P., Eleanor D. Olney,
Daisy B. Holladay, Nan E. Parrott, Elizabeth P., May E. Waldo,
Alma and Estelle, Irene B. D., H. Olina Herring, Carrie L. Walker,
Hattie Homer, Florence Halsted, Fay and Fan, Clara E. Longworth,
May M. Boyd, Annie G. Barnard, Katie E. G., Alice Butterfield,
Mabel P., E. C., James H. Saycock, E. Converse, Abe M. B., P. C.
Brittain, L. H. E., May M. Boyd, Marie Clark, Morris Miner, Jo
and Flo Overstreet, Roy C. Chambers, May Barton, Bessie Heath,
Lawrence E. Horton, Charles R. Van Horn, Albertie G. Russell,
S. M. K., Henry H. Townshend, Edith S. C., Blanche Sloat, Sadie
Nichols, Jesse L. Pusey, Bessie Lenhart, John N. Force, Madge
C. DeW., E. A. Burnham, Sammy," A. G. K., Fannie B. S.,
Emily T. H., John R. P., Jr., Tommy Bangs, Florence, Julia McC.,
Brenda, Harry M. M., Gertie E. Kendall, H. E. H., A. K. E., Anna
E. Roelker, M. H. N., Katie," Etta A. Harper, May S., Tillie
Lutz, W. P. Haslett, Charles L., Charlie P. Storrs, Maurice S. S.,
May, Freddie M., Florence M. Wilcox, Ida R. G., Louis R. E.,
Bertha, Muriel C. Gere, Ralph M. Fletcher, Bertha B., Ella O.,
C. H. Pease, Alice W. Brown, Clara L., Arthur F. Hudson, Katie,
Thomas H. King, Jr., Mary L. Mayo, O. P., Carrie L. Moulthrop,
Alice Dickey, M. Eva T., Daisy W., Marie G. Hinkley, Agatha

Montie Duncan, Agnes S. Barker, Samuel S. Watson, Madaleine
C. Selby, Hattie A. Taber, Cecelia R. G., Belle Sudduth, Johnnie
E. Shaw, Inez B. Fletcher, Eva, Ferrars J., C. P, Hermann
Thomas, Annie and Margaret, Edmonia Powers, Alice M. B., D.
and A., Anna A. H., Lizzie Kellogg, Louis J. Hall, Charles H.
Webster, C. L. Wright, Jr., Merrick R. Baldwin, Eleanor Hobson,
Lottie A. D., John Moore, Harold Smith, C. W. F., L. Hazeltine,
A. C. Crosby, Mabel L., May J., Grace Plummer, Alice Dodge,
Bessie K. S., Ella Bisell, Irma St. John, Irene Lasier, F. L. Waldo,
Ruth Morse, Maude G. Barnum, Bertha M. Crane, Aggie Drain,
Roy Gray Bevan, John W. Wainwright, Edith, Ella L. Bridges,
Bessie Rhodes, Floy G., C. A. G., L. O. C., Mary S. Collar, Pearl
Reynolds, Evelyn Auerbach, Mabel E. D., Grace Fleming, Eddie
Persinger, Charlie B., Lillie Story, Maude B., Mary M. Steele,
Doris Hay, Gussie Moley, Ethel W. F., Arthur, Mary Springer,
Marion M. Tooker, Mary F. K., Lizzie E. Crowell, JosieW. Penny-
packer, Bertie Barse, Nellie B., J. W. L., Maude Cullen, Daisy C.
Baker, Esther S. Barnard, Blanche M. C., Aurelia M. Snider,
Howard E. T., Bacon, Hildegarde G., Kittie L. Norris, Nellie L.
Howes, Leverette Early, Virginia Beall, Henry W. Bellows, Bissell
Currie, Violet Quinn, Mamie Sage, Belle C. Hill, Alvah and Arden
Rockwood, Lillian Miln, Adele Yates, Lillie S. E., Ollie C., Maggie




;'.^ :s'. N^t' .^^ I^, _


A COURSE OF OBSERVATIONS ON TREES. of the A. A., at a later date, but just now it is a question of rob-
THE United States Government, through the Forestry Division of bing birds' nests. This association strictly maintains the scientific
the Agricultural Department, solicits the assistance of volunteer ob- ground that when birds' eggs are actually needed by a young natr-
servers belonging to the Agassiz Association. The chiefoftheDivision list, as a means of identification or of practical knowledge, it is
of Forestry, in consultation withthePresidentof theA. A.,ispreparing justifiable to take them, when the law allows. But the collection of
a special "schedule of phenological observations" for the A. A. This eggs as curiosities, and the wholesale robbery of nests for purposes
is a very simple series of questions, in spite of its long name. One of sale or exchange, is a wanton destruction wholly unworthy of any
object of this series of observations is to determine the effect of earnest student of nature.
climate upon the growth of plants. Among the facts to be noted are In view of the impossibility of discriminating between the two
the dates of the appearance of first leaf, first flower, and first fruit classes of collectors, we shall hereafter decline to publish in Sr.
Nothing is required that can not be accurately and easily done by NICHOLAs, any requests for the sale, purchase, or exchange of the
an intelligent boy or girl of twelve years of age. It is earnestly c -' f ir .r -. 1 1 -
desired by the Department that as many as possible of our members ofte rfoenr wn,eagle, crow, and
undertake this work, in the interest of science, and for the practical ostrich.
results of the information sought.
All who are willing to try, will kindly send their addresses, at DELAYED CHAPTER REPORTS.
once, to "The Chief of the Division of Forestry, Department of 60, Pigeon Cove, Mass. We have not lost a member from our
Agriculture, Washington, D C." a i ooks since you first enrolled us, and although at present we are all
The complete schedule of observations desired will then be sent to so occupied by our daily work that we can not hold regular meet-
them, and they can begin at once. ings, we all look forward to the time wlihe we shall be able to begin
again.-Charles H. Andrews.
THE IOWA CONVENTION. 150, Flushing, L. Our Chapter has not been very active during
THE following programme has been prepared for our next General the past year, ut I hope in thenear future to build up a lively Chapter.
Convention to be held at Davenport, Iowa, in August: Father and Mother will help me.- Frances M. L. Heaton, Sec.
WENEA, August, 25:- A. M Recepton of the National dele- Medor, Mass. The Chapter is still in existence, and
gates, and visit to the Academy of Sciences.-- . Opening of holding eetgs every e Daisy Dame, Se.
ongates, to vsi. Po the 2Addres of elcoesty Senpatrentg of 257 PantsvNille, CoMn. We have been very successful; meetings
Convention, Prayer. 2. address of welcome by Senator ames fl of interest and well attended. Our last paper on "Crystals"
Wilson of Iowa. 3. Response by the President of the A. A. b e N Walkley, who illustrated the subject by plaster casts.
4. Reading of papers.- 7 it. Reception and banquet, with toasts wa by E. Noo male quarter who in our Chated the subject by plaster casts.
tand thoeys, Whave ar good male quartet in our Chapter; also genlemen who
anT responses, p. Question Box Visit to play on the violin, flute, piano, and 'cello, so we can have a good
TTHURSDAY, August 26C:N-9 A. Ms. Question "ox. a. Visit to no b e a durinn
the Government Island.- 2. At. i. Working Session. 2. Address time if e ant it, at any meeting.d whitewaoom, and
We have just papered, painted, and whitewashed our resin, aid
byTthe President of the A. A-7 P. p.r. Lecture, by Prof T. H. intend to give an entertainment to procure funds to buy a new
McBride, of the Iowa State University. .n t s i carpet (Bravo!)- Albert L. Ely, Pres.
FRIAy, August 27: Steam-boat excursion down the Mississippi. 287, /Oaea, III. Our members are scattered, some in college,
most of the others going soon; but we do not wish to be counted out
PROr. CROSBV'S CLASS IN MINERALOGY. of that society from which we have received so much pleasure and
BosToN, IMAss. profit.- Edgar Eldredge, Sec.
THE class now includes 122 bona fde correspondents. The great 331, New Orleans, La. This Chapter has passed through severe
majority have very greatly and agreeably surprised me by the excel- trials, being sustained at one time by only two earnest members, but
lence of their work. I have been especially delighted by the suc- it is now triumphantly successful. It is unique in that it has for its
cess of the chemical experiments. I was in doubt at first as to the president a gentleman, Mr. P. M. Hoit, who lives in Santa Barbara,
propriety of introducing these; but I should never hesitate again. California, more than fifteen hundred miles away from the Chapter
The success of the class is so much beyond my expectations that I He sends plans of work, rules of order, by-laws, etc., and really
am fully reconciled to the time and labor it has cost me. governs the Chapter, with which he first became acquainted through
W. 0. CRosBY. a letter asking about exchanges. The Chapter has over 600 speci-
mens.- Percy S. Benedict, Sec.
HONORABLE MENTION. 35, Los Angeles, Cal. The children never tire of going tothe
MR. PAUL L. SlMITH, President of Chapter 653, of La Porte, Ind., beach, and a trip to the mountains is another favorite excursion. Our
goes fifty-nine miles, on the first Saturday of every month, to preside cabinets grow, and I sometimes fear we shall get crowded out of the
at the meetings of his Chapter. And yet some doubt whether house by the trash" that is accumulating! Mrs. M. F. Brad-
Natural History can awaken the interest of the young shaw, Sec.
366, Webster Groves, Mo. We have thirteen workers, all active.
THE A. A. BY THE SEA. We have a collection of 510 specimens, mostly minerals and fossils
of our own State; a library of 123 volumes; a microscope; and a
Miss FLORENCE MAY LYON and two associate teachers of the chemical laboratory. We intend to hold an encampment this sum-
Detroit High School, members of Chapter 743, are making arrange- mer. How do you think it would work to have a Midsummer
ments to take a bevy of a dozen or twenty young ladies for a sum- Night's Dream," on some summer evening?-we might have the
mer vacation of six weeks, to the charming town ofAnnisquam, Mass. telescope-man come out from the city, do some star-gazing, and have
They propose to teach them in as "unbookish and delightful a way an open-air magic lantern entertainment? (It weold work "to a
as possible about sea-side plants and animals." These ladies have char )- Edwin R. Allan, Sec.
had abundant experience, and we wish them the greatest success. 40, Farg, Dakota. We gave an oyster supper a few weeks ago,
and cleared $15. Our rooms are in the Masonic Block, and the
BIRDS' EGGS. Masons kindly let us use their dishes for the occasion. We have
THE destruction of the singin birds of America is a growing and one of the finest rooms for this class of work in the Northwest.
a very serious evil. Many lades wear on their bonnets enough Our members are taking hold in earnest, and it will be a success.
birds to flood a grove with melody-if only the birds were not We have a fine teacher in Judge Mitchell. Mr. Mitchell will be
dead and in pieces glad to aid any of the western Chapters, if they wish. I think for
We may make an appeal on this subject to the girls and women my part there could be more chapters formed in Dakota, if the boys



and girlswould volunteer work earnestly. How many of the Dakota
-Chapters would like to organize the Dakota Assembly of the A. A. ?
Those in favor will please correspond with me.-Frank Brown, Sec.


403, Newark, N. J. We have begun to study the mounting of
plants and leaves. We are going to admit some lady friends to our
Chapter, which we think will be a great benefit to us.-Chas.
Barrows, Sec. Wm. Earle, Pres.
404, Baraboo, Wis. We are still working, and our collection is
steadily growing. One of our boys caught a common painted turtle.
I put it into a tub with another of the same kind. They soon became
so tame that they took food from my hand quite readily. One day
I fed them as usual, but before they finished their meal I emptied the
water from the tub, when one of them that had a worm in its mouth
began to choke and could not swallow. I gave the other one, too,
but he only took the end of it in his mouth. But as soon as I put
water enough in for them to cover their heads, they swallowed as
easily as ever. I tried this several times with the same result. We
gave an entertainment and cleared $25.-Marie McKennan, Sec.
409, Sag Harbor, N. Y. This year has been marked by greater
progress than any other since our organization. In April, 1885, a
valuable addition was made to our cabinet by the finding of a shrew
-genus sorex. This little animal, the least of the mammals, meas-
ured not quite two inches in length, excluding the tail. During
May and June we organized for summer work, on a new plan,- the
president appointing committees to collect in special departments.
In July and August we spent numerous field-days" in the woods
and on the shore. We found a rare specimen of trap-rock. The
skeleton of a bottle-fish excited a great deal of curiosity. One of our
members who had caught a live one identified it.
In November, we commenced a series of discussions: Which is
of more value to mankind-cotton or wool?" (Decided in favor of
wool.) "What is the most useful mammal ?" (Four members voted
for cow and four for sheep.) "What insect is most valuable in pro-
moting human happiness?" (Decided for honey-bee.) "What is
the most valuable fish?" (Cod.) Many other questions were
debated. We have received many curious specimens: sea-horse,
porcupine-fish, key-hole shells, etc. We intend to collect sea-weed
and mosses this summer.- Cornelius R. Sleight, Sec.
423, eet h Aimboy, N. J. Our thirty members have manifested
great interest in collecting and examining specimens from the differ-
ent divisions of the animal kingdom. Much attention has been
given to articulates, including insects of the sea. At presentwe are
engaged in a very interesting course of observation in mineralogy.
We have the highest appreciation of the assistance we have derived
from the A. A., in learning to observe and love nature.-Bertha M.
Mitchell, Cor. Sec.
424, Decorah, Iowa. Several of our lady members are teachers,
and highly value our meetings. We shall try to have public lectures
in geology. We are connecting with these subjects that of humane
work, proposing to organize as the Agassiz Band of Mercy. So we
have two harmonious lines of good work begun, and hope to make
both of them permanent.-M. R. Steele, Sec.
428, St. Paul, Minn. Since our organization we have had
seventy-eight meetings, all at our house. As one of our number is
studying for the occupation of mining engineer, and has a forge,
furnace, lathe, etc., we have decided to study iron, steel, and the
methods of mining and manufacturing them. We have a club-
room, where we keep our cabinets, and a small library.-Philip C.
Allen, Sec.
436, Toronto, Canada. Our president and several of our mem-
bers have moved from town, so we have done comparatively nothing
since I wrote you. But Charles Ashdown and I are endeavoring to
get some new members, and I believe we shall have a stronger and
better Chapter than ever.-David J. Howell, Sec.
439, Wilmington, Del. We have collected more cocoons and
chrysalids this winter than ever before. Many of them are very
rare, among them, A chemon, P. satellitia, Smerinthis genimatus, -E.
imperalis, and Callosama angulitera.-Percy C. Pyle.
440, Keene, N. H. We have several hundred specimens, mostly
lepidoptera and coleoftera. Have found a great many fine beetles
lately under the bark of dead trees and stumps where they pass the
winter. We always note the place of capture of all specimens, and
all other items of interest. Frank H. Foster, Sec.
448, Washingion, D. C. We bring to our third anniversary, a
gratifying sense of well-being and desert, with promise of continued
vigor. Our portfolios hold 343 reports, and every member is there
represented. Our fifty books and pamphlets are read with applica-
tion. We are ambitious for a children's Chapter, and long to make
discoveries. Perhaps some of us may some day, and with this thrill-
ing thought we are planning careful summer walks, with thoughtful
"observation books."- Sabelle Macfarland.
450, Fitchburg, Mass. As we have consolidated all our Fitch-
burg Chapters into one, now known as No. 48, Fitchburg, A, there
is no special report from 450, but I think we now have an earnest
society on a solid foundation.-Geo. F. Whittemore.
453, Oswego, N. Y. Active. Will soon hold meetings weekly
instead of fortnightly. Special study for the year has been archeology
and geology. Have been much interested in the archeoiteryx. On
archeology, will send you a more lengthy report. -Will A. Burr, Sec.


[The promised report came in due time, and it is a masterpiece
of patient work,- carefully illustrated with drawings of Indian
arrow-heads, axes, lottery, needles,fish-hooks, pifes, and anvils.
It covers twelve ages closely written. We value it, and have
placed it carefully onfile.]
460, Washington, D. C. This Chapter was organized in the
spring of 1882 from a small association we then had; it had already
existed for two years or more when we heard of the A. A. We
concluded this would give us a wider scope for scientific investiga-
tions, and so made formal application for admission into the Associ-
ation, which had already advanced with marvelous rapidity.
Vernon M. Dorsey, an unusually promising mineralogist and chem-
ist, was elected president. When a new member was elected it cost
him nothing, so he was elected with the full consent ofallthe members,
not one objecting. Passive members were allowed in this Chapter,
they paying ten cents a month, which money went into the treasury.
We adopted most of the rules and regulations in the Hand-book,
and, after having arranged the executive portion of the Chapter, we
commenced to have a regular course of essays or lectures, on Tuesdays
and Thursdays, given by the active members, which lectures the
passive members could attend if so inclined. After the lectures we
generally had debates, and as each member had a different branch
of Natural History to which he devoted his attention, the lectures
and debates were not monotonous.
We ran on pretty smoothly for about a year and a half, until the
money in the treasury commenced to accumulate, when, with the ex-
ception of one or two members, the Chapter spontaneously combusted.
We have never been able to rebuild it. We can hold no meetings.
It exists, really, only in name, because the prospects for the future
look rather dull.
If you will allow our Chapter to remain on the list, I should much
prefer you would do so.
I have carried on investigations in various branches of zoology,
but, as this is merely a report of the Chapter, I will not enter into
details concerning them.
I hope that the other Chapters will meet with better success
than ours, though it may yet revive.
Yours respectfully, F. A. Reynolds, Cor. Sec.
[ We are sorry that this excellent Chafter experienced "spontane-
ous combustion," but we hofe and believe that it will ere long also
experience voluntary resurrection.]
465, Waterville, Maine. Our president has moved away. The
rest of us have been exceedingly busy. We have been obliged to
vacate our room, and, as we could not get another, have had to
store our specimens. But we are not dead yet Far from it! It is
only a case of suspended animation. We fully expect to take up
work again this summer.-Charles W. Spencer, Sec.
[Not even "suspended animation; the Chapter is only catch-
ing its breath for more vigorous exertion.]
470, Nicollet, Wis. Still prospering. We have a small room
nicely fitted up, in our High School building, of which we are quite
proud. We have a working membership of twenty-four, and hold
regular meetings.
[A friend of the Chapter adds to this report of Miss Sara
Ritchie, the secretary, the following:]
"I was exceedingly interested in listening to the different members
reporting formally the occurrence of our spring birds, with which was
associated the arrival of certain insects. Two years ago, such re-
ports were impossible, as the observing faculties of very few of the
members had been sufficiently trained. If nothing more has been
acquired, this one habit of close observation, developed by our A. A.
work, is worth all it may have cost those who have encouraged and
carried out the plan of the Association."

The address of Chapter 850 is now simply Chapter 850 A. A.,
Box 1587, Bangor, Maine.

Correspondence with other family Chapters whose members are
beginners in botany or entomology.-Mrs. R. Van Dien, Jr., Box
13, Hohokus, Bergen Co., N. J.
Correspondence desired. Entomology and botany.- Paul L.
Smith, 3348 Indiana Av., (Ch-;- TI1.
Postmarks and fossils (. pinnaformis) for books on
zoology. Write first.-Chas. F. Baker, St. Croix Falls, Wis.
Cecropia moths for other lepidoptera.-W. B. Greenleaf, Box 3rI.
Normal Park, Ill.
Correspondence with other Chapters earnestly desired.--Stephen
R. Wood, Sec. 776, Oakland, Cal.
Florida (east coast) shells, star-fishes, coquina, small live alliga-
tors, etc., etc., for anything rare or curious.- J. Earle Bacon, Or-
mond, Volusia Co., Fla.
Coquina, trap-rock, asphaltum, Skates' egg-case, key-hole shell,
and cocoons.-C. R. Sleight, Sec. Ch. 409, Sag Harbor, L. I., N. Y.
All kinds of Chinese curiosities for fine Indian relics.- Kurt
Kleinschmidt, Box 752, Helena, Montana.


No. Name. No. of Members. Address.
957 Galveston, Texas (B) ..... ..Emma E. Walden, Cor. 34th
and N. Y streets.
958 Greenup, Ky. (A) .. ......20..Mrs. Geo. Gibbs, Box 104.
959 Hartwick Sem., N. Y. (A). 5..Alfred A. Hiller.
960 Geneva, N. Y. (C) ....... 6..F. H. Bachman, Box 559.
961 Hartford, Conn. (G) ...... 2..Austin H. Pease,
4 Canton street.
962 Kansas City, Mo. (B)..... 5..R. F. Breeze, 611 E. l7th St.
963 Geddes, N. Y. (A) ....... 4..G. E. Avery, Box 76.
964 Manchester, Iowa (A)..... 20.. Fred Blair.
965 Three Rivers, Mich. (A) .. 7..G. W. Daniels.
966 Randolph, Ill. (A) ........24..Miss Grace Stewart.
863 Hinsdale, Ill. (B)......... 9..N. H. Webster.
60 Rockport, Mass, (A) ...... 2..Chas. H. Andrews.

AVo. Name. Vo. of Alembcrs. la'oiiss.
145 Indianapolis, Ind. (A)..... 8..G. L. Payne,
care of T. B. Linn.
352 Amherst, Mass............ 4..Miss Edith S. Field.
349 Linden, N. J ...............E. H. Schram.
[(tlcmb)rs a reovd. l
494 Northfield, Vt ...............T. M. Hitt.
535 Chapel Hill, N. J ........... Miss Clara J. Martin.
371 Granville, 0.... ............ Miss Ida M. Sanders.
83 St. Louis (A)......... ...... Maud M. Love.
[Jm.ln/r.s r,.movrd. ]
i90 Duncannon, Pa.............. Miss Annie I. Jackson.

Address all communications for this Department to



HALF-SQUARE. I. Canada. 2. Arena. 3. Neat. 4. Ant. 5.
Da(w). 6. A.
RHOMBOID, Across: i. Sloop. 2. Organ. 3. Ergot. 4. Eerie.
5. Sandy.- CRosS-WORD ENIGMA. Blossom.
ST. ANDREW'S CROSS OF DIAMONDS. I. i. P. 2. Fur. 3. Fares.
4. Puritan. 5. Retip. 6. Sap. 7. N. II. r. N. 2. Fen. 3.
Fagin. 4. Negroes. 5. Niobe. 6. Nee. 7 S. I I. x. N. 2.
Pen. 3. Puman. 4. Nemesis. 5. Nasal. 6. Nil. 7. S. IV. I.
N. 2. Ben. 3. Baton. 4. Nettles. 5. Nolle. 6. Nee. 7. S.
V. i. S. a. Let. 3. Livid. 4. Several. 5. Tired. 6. Dad.
7. T,.
"DI.nroND" PUZZLE. Across: i. S. 2. Ape. 3. Bream. 4.
Car. 5. R. Downward: i. B. 2. Arc. 3. Spear. 4. Ear. 5.
BURIED CITIES. I. Beme. 2. Basle. 3. Bergen. 4. Quito.
5. Herat. 6. Mandalay. 7. Venice. 8. Bremen.
A BERRY PUZZLE. I. Dogberry. Checkerberry. 3. Straw-
berry. 4. Shadberry. 5. Barberry. 6, Raspberry. 7. Partridge-
berry. 8. Snowberry. 9. Thimbleberry. 0o. Gooseberry. it.
Elderberry. 12. Bayberry.
DIAMOND. r. S. 2. Lea. 3. Larva. 4. Serpent. 5. Avert.
6. Ant. 7. T.

DOUBLE ACROSTICS. Primals, Thomas; finals, Arnold. Cross-
words: i. ThaliA. 2. HorroR. 3. OberoN. 4. MikadO. 5.
AstraL. 6. SinbaD.
Pi. In June 't is good to lie beneath a tree
While the blithe season comforts every sense,
Steeps all the brain in rest, and heals the heart,
Brimming it o'er with sweetness unawares.
Fragrant and silent as that rosy snow
Wherewith the pitying apple-tree fills up
And tenderly lines some last year robin's nest.
Jamers Russell Lowvll.
BEiHEADINGS. Trinity. i. T-ape. 2. R-asp. 3, T-on. 4.
N-ail. 5. I-man 6. T-ide. 7. Y-end.
DoUBLE DIAGONALS. From I to 2, chaffinch; from 3 to 4, gold,
finch. Crosswords: i. Corroding. 2. Childhood. 3. Gradually.
4. Confident 5. Chafferer. 6. Exhibited. 7. Penitence. 8.
Acoustics. 9. Hair-cloth.- CHARADE. Jack-stones.
METAMORPHOSES. i. Ape; ale, all, ail, aim, rim, ram, ran, man.
2. Oars; bars, bard, card, cord, cold, colt, coat, boat. 3. Lead;
bead, beat, belt, bolt, bold, gold. 4. Warm; harm, hard, card,
cord, cold. 5. One; owe, awe, aye, dye, doe, toe, too, two. 6.
Age; aye, dye, die, hie, his, has, gas.

To OUR PUZZLERS : In sending answers to puzzles, sign only your initials or use a short assumed name; but if you send a complete
list of answers you may sign your full name. Answers should be addressed to ST. NICHOLAS Riddle-box," care of THE CENTURY CO.,
33 East Seventeenth street, New York City.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE APRIL NUMBER were received, too late for acknowledgment in the June number, from Esther Reid,
East Melbourne, Australia, i--R. F. Graham, London, England, i.
ANSWERS TO ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE APRIL NUMBER were received, before April o2, from B. L. Z. Bub, No. i,"--Paul Reese-
Emma St. C. Whitney -"The McG's"- May and Julia- Ed, Beth, and Charlie- Maggie T. Turrill- Arthur and Bertie Knox-N. B.
Oakford-M. G. Jackson-" Cricket and Cripsy"-Elisabeth, Richard, and Ruth--Pough-etc.-Dorothea E. Kennade-Josie and
Lillie-Blanche and Fred-" B. L. Z. Bub, No. 2"-" The Spencers"-C. and S. Andrews- The Stewart Browns-" May and 79 "-Effie
K. Talboys -Delia, Lou, Ida, and Lillie-"San Anselmo Valley"-- T i nd the Dominie-Edith McDonald- Maud E. Palmer-
Mary Ludlow -Mamma and Jokie-" Clifford and Coco"-Frances,. .. Mamma and the Girls -Shumway Hen and Chickens-
"Theo. Ther "-Alice M. E. d'A.- Blithedale -" Betsy Trotwood "- Belle and Bertha Murdock Judith -Randolph and Robert-
"Miss M. and the Gals"-W. R. M.-Nellie and Reggie- Fannie and Louise Lockett-Bertha H.-"R. U. Pert"-Francis W.
Islip-X. and Y.-Alice and Lizzie Pepdleton-Frying-pan-Hallie Couch-S. and B. Rhodes and de Grassy-Savoir et Sagesse-
X. Y. Z. and Ulysses-B. Z. G.-Carrie Seaver and Alice Young-Dash.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE APRIL NUMBER were received, before April 2o, from Foster and Remer, 2-Clark Holbrook, 3-
"Triangle," 4-J. M. Moore, i-Eleanor B. Ripley, 6-E. M. Benedict, --"Block and Chip," 9-H. E. Hanbold, 2-A. G.
Tomay, 2 -E. O. Brownell, 2- Geo. S. Seymour and Co., 9-N. Beall, 2--Philip and Mamma, 4-N. L. Peacock. i-" umi
Yum," 2-E. Parks, i -F. A. and H. C. Hart, -Alice and R. G., i--Maud S., i-"Egg," B., H., M., M., and A. Read, 1-
Bub and Bubess, i-"Infant," r-Pepper and Maria, 9-A. Ransom and W. Chase, i-A. H. Sibley, x-Ned L. Mitchell, 4-
Eddie B., i-"Lone Star," 7-A. F. S., G. E. C. and E. B. F., 5--M. Kershey and S. Sweet, -G. E. Campbell, 3-G. F.
Cameron, 2-B. Sudduth, 2-Kendrick Bros., 9 R. B. C., 2-E. and IK Mitchell, 3-L. D. Shropshire, i-"J. McDuffe," i-
" Doane-utsand Rice," I -"Phlimpy," 2 -D. Thomas and Auntie, 2-" Snags," 2- F. Althaus, 4-Daisy Condell, 3 Me and Be, 2-
N. E. Miner, 4-Geo. Hawley, 5-A. B. Smith, 2-R. K. Allison, --M. Flurscheim, x-Mrs. Emma Sloat, 3-Millie Atkinson, -
H. Frost, I-B. C. Ketchum. i-Billy and Me, 7-S. R. Manning, i-Mamma and Belp, i-Rose H. Wedin, i-Mary and
Jennie Butler, 4 No name, Fredericksburgh, 4-"Dixie," z--M. S. Bird, i -R. L. Foering, I --F. Jarman, 3 E. F. and F. E.
Bliss, L. and C. Kendrickson, 2- Tessie Gutman, 7-A. D. C., 2 -Joe and Billy, I L. Wainman, 2-" Yum Yum," I- N. L.
Howes, 2-" B. Rabbit and T. Baby," 4-H. S. Chalmers, I-"Pen and Ink-bottle," i-Maginnis, r-J. R. F. S., r-Christine and
Cousin, 5-I. M. Lebermann, 6-Albert and Gussie, I-C. J. Tully, 2-Laura W. and Alice M., 2-Grace E. Keech, 6--Agnes
Converse, 4-" Head-lights," r -C. Gallup, i -C. W. Chadwick, Prof. P. H. Janney, E. E. Hudson, r -" Dixie and Pixie," i-
" Mr. Pickwick," and Sam Weller," 8 M. F. Davenport, i- "89 and Chestnuts," I- J. A Keeler, 6 Edith, Grace, and Jessie, 2-
Bessie Jackson, 4-H. N. and Nickie Bros., 2- J. M. B., G. S., and A. Louise W., 8--K. L. Reeder, MIamie R., 9--Walter
La Bar, 8- H. C. Barnes, i Jennie Judge, 3- E. H. Seward, 3-" The Lloyds," 8- A. Wister, a- Fred T. Pierce, 6- Lucia C.
Bradley, 8- Puzzle Club, 9 Alina and Estelle, i Pearl Colby and Nell Betts, 7- Eleanor and Maude Peart, 7 S. B. S. Bissell, 4 -
Estelle and Edith, i F. J. and Flip, 2 -" Mohawk Valley," 8 H. Allen, Jr., i R. Lloyd, 5 Mamma and Fanny, 9 Mrs. E. and
Grace E., 5- L. Delano and M. Wilson, 8 I. and E. Swanwick, 5-Anonymous, 4- Herbert Wolfe, 9 -Lulu May, 7- No name, 7 -
"Koko and Pitti-sing," i Sallie Viles, 9 Tessie and Henri, 3 Murray and Percy, 9 S. L. Meeks, 6 Ma:jorie Daw, I C.
and H. Condit, 8 -" Peggotty," 7- Katie, i Edith Young, 3- Two Cousins, 9 Eva Hamilton, 9- Chip and Block, 2.



I AM composed of ninety-three letters, and am a famous toast
given at Norfolk by a distinguished naval officer who was killed in a
duel in 1820.
My 89-41-8-49 is a preposition. My 22-73-33 is belonging to us.
My 53-15-46-65-29-85 is a specter. My 57-70-1-10 is a float. My
25-59-3 is a term used in addressing a gentleman. My 13-76-48-1
is stockings. My 68-83-26 is to fasten. My 75-5-81 is bashful
My 62-91-6-80 is a division of time. My 69-23-44-55 is restless.
My 27-35-37-18-50-90 is the name of a season. My 67-63-92-88-
47 is the Christian name of a famous American poet. My 31-28-20-
58 is a conflagration. My 30-72-82-24-32-64 is intense dread. My
4-51-x7-12-42-6o is a military engine. My 9-34-93-16-45-14-78-86
is a body of men commanded by a colonel. My 40-2-74-38-21-87-
54-71-56 are renegades. My 36-39-61-79-52-11-7-66 84-77-43 is a
machine-gun that can fire two hundred shots a minute.


3 4

5 6

7 . 8

FROM I to 2, a parent; from 2 to 6, tranquillity; from 5 to 6, a
useful instrument; from I to 5, a feminine name; from 3 to 4, con-
suming; from 4 to 8, voracious; from 7 to 8, actively; from 3 to 7,
the flag which distinguishes a company of soldiers; from i to 3, a
very small fragment; from 2 to 4, resounded; from 6 to 8, not diffi-
cult; from 5 to 7, part of the day. DAVID H. D.


M.first is that happy position
The holders of stock love to see;
'T is the point above which the aspiring
Are evermore hoping to be.

My second made haste for the doctor;
His mother was ailing, he heard;
And that mother ever had taught him
To revere and be kind to my third.

Then he went to my whole and requested
Its master his mother would see,
For he knew that myfirst and my second
To his mother most welcome would be.
W. H. A.

THE letters of each of the following anagrams may be transposed
so as to spell the name of a well-known novel.
.. Nod, quiet ox. 2. Wilt sit over ? 3. Visiting near H. 4.
Earning my gun, 5. Lord Poicy is south. 6. But no nice clams.
7. I hem when I want to. 8. Is it of papa's homely Ted? 9. If
we have lifted a cork. so. We quit Dr., and run. E. L. G. M.


THE problem is to change one given word to another given word,
by altering one letter at a time, each alteration making 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 cow to RAT in three moves. 2. Change HARD to SOFT
in six moves. 3. Change LEFT to EAST in four moves. 4. Change HIT
to LOW in four moves. 5. Change LONG to WEST in five moves.

T. ACRoss: I. Poison. 2. An ancient philosopher memorable
for his friendship with Pythias. 3. Large bundles. 4. A substance
obtained from certain trees. 5. A strip of leather.
DOWNWARD: I e.In prove. 2. A nickname. 3. To seize by a
sudden grasp. 4. A famous mosque. 5. Certain burrowing ani-
mals. 6. A cosy place. 7. A title of respect. 8. A word ofdenial.
9. In prove.
II. ACROSS: i. A very wealthy man. 2. A bricklayer. 3. In-
habitants of a certain European country. 4. To send back. 5. A
DOWNWARD: I. In Rhine. 2. A verb. 3. Vicious. 4. A low
ridge of stone or gravel. 5. Freed from osseous substance. 6. The
name of a captain in one of Jules Verne's stories. 7. Iniquity. 8. A
preposition. 9. In Rhine. NORA L. WVNSLOW.

NILGANG yam eb dais or eb os kile eth hatemcatsim atth ti nac
veem eb fylul ratlen.

EACH of the words described contains the same number of letters,
and the zigzag, beginning at the upper left-hand letter, will spell a
day famous in history.
i. A creeping vine. 2. A common insect. 3. A cover. 4. Nourished.
3. Placed. 6. A boy's nickname. 7. A kitchen utensil. 8. To
augment. 9. An extremity. o A conjunction. n. A fabulous
bird. i2. Conducted. .3: To delve. 14. A month. 15. A song.

4 .. .. .. 3

4 . 2
ACROS : i. Unmarried women. 2. With quick beating or palpi-
tation. 3. A musical term meaning "slowly." 4. A gentle blow.
5. In water. 6. An exclamation. 7. A marked feature. 8. A French
coin. 9. More comely.
The central letters spell articles much worn during the summer.
The letters from i to 2 name the delight of invalids during the sum-
mer months; from 3 to 4, an instrument used for timing races.