Front Cover
 Autumn to spring
 Little lord Fauntleroy
 Some curious mariners
 Nan's revolt
 In the garden
 The crew of the captain's gig
 The weasel and the adder
 George Washington
 The children's exhibition
 The tell-tale barn
 Wonders of the alphabet
 The little boys who looked...
 The kelp-gatherers
 Old time arms and armor
 Ned's buttercup
 Her picture
 The brownies at base-ball
 About breathing
 Japanese babies
 A quaint little man
 Riddles for very little folk
 The letter-box
 The Agassiz association - Sixty-sixth...
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover

Title: St. Nicholas
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00176
 Material Information
Title: St. Nicholas
Uniform Title: St. Nicholas (New York, N.Y.)
Alternate Title: Saint Nicholas
Physical Description: 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Publisher: Scribner
Place of Publication: New York
Publication Date: -c1943
Frequency: monthly
Subject: Children's literature -- Periodicals   ( lcsh )
Genre: periodical   ( marcgt )
Dates or Sequential Designation: -v. 67, no. 4 (Feb. 1940) ; v. 70, no. 1 (Mar. 1943)-v. 70, no. 4 (June 1943).
Dates or Sequential Designation: Began with: Vol. 1, no. 1, Nov. 1873.
Numbering Peculiarities: Suspended Mar. 1940-Feb. 1943; vols. 68-69 omitted.
Issuing Body: Published by: Century, Aug. 1881- ; by Educational Pub. Corp. -1940; by St. Nicholas Magazine, 1943.
General Note: Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
General Note: Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00065513
Volume ID: VID00176
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: oclc - 01764817
lccn - 04012675
 Related Items
Preceded by: Our young folks
Preceded by: Children's hour (Philadelphia, Penn.)
Preceded by: Little corporal
Preceded by: Schoolday magazine
Preceded by: Wide awake

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
        Page 882
    Autumn to spring
        Page 883
    Little lord Fauntleroy
        Page 884
        Page 885
        Page 886
        Page 887
        Page 888
        Page 889
        Page 890
    Some curious mariners
        Page 891
        Page 892
        Page 893
        Page 894
        Page 895
    Nan's revolt
        Page 896
        Page 897
    In the garden
        Page 898
    The crew of the captain's gig
        Page 899
        Page 900
        Page 901
        Page 902
        Page 903
        Page 904
        Page 905
        Page 906
    The weasel and the adder
        Page 907
    George Washington
        Page 908
        Page 909
        Page 910
        Page 911
        Page 912
        Page 913
        Page 914
        Page 915
    The children's exhibition
        Page 916
        Page 917
        Page 918
        Page 919
        Page 920
        Page 921
        Page 922
        Page 923
    The tell-tale barn
        Page 924
    Wonders of the alphabet
        Page 925
        Page 926
        Page 927
    The little boys who looked alike
        Page 928
    The kelp-gatherers
        Page 929
        Page 930
        Page 931
        Page 932
        Page 933
        Page 934
        Page 935
    Old time arms and armor
        Page 936
        Page 937
        Page 938
        Page 939
        Page 940
    Ned's buttercup
        Page 941
    Her picture
        Page 942
    The brownies at base-ball
        Page 943
        Page 944
        Page 945
    About breathing
        Page 946
        Page 947
    Japanese babies
        Page 948
    A quaint little man
        Page 949
    Riddles for very little folk
        Page 950
        Page 951
        Page 952
        Page 953
    The letter-box
        Page 954
        Page 955
        Page 956
    The Agassiz association - Sixty-sixth report
        Page 957
        Page 958
    The riddle-box
        Page 959
        Page 960
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text



(See page 912.)


VOL. XIII. OCTOBER, 1886. No. 12.

[Copyright, 1886, by THE CENTURY CO.]



I WISH the stately golden-rod
Might kiss the little wind-flower sweet,
That asters might to cowslips nod,
And eyebright run in haste to greet
The violet from the April sod-
So once the Fall and Spring might meet.

I wish my Little Self and I
Might sometime cross each other's way.
My Little Self is wondrous shy;
I can not meet her any day,
Howe'er I search, however I pry
About these meadows autumn-gay.

The runaway, the teasing elf!
She flits where woodland blossoms drift;
She has a world of pretty pelf
She gathered from the ripples swift;
Such joys she has, my Little Self
Will not be lured by any gift.

She 's light as bird upon the wing,
Her cheeks and eyes are all aglow.
To me what gladness she could bring !
To her I should be strange, I know.
My Little Self holds fast the Spring,
And Autumn will not let me go !

Yet still I wish the golden-rod
Might kiss the little wind-flower sweet,
That asters might to cowslips nod,
And eyebright run in haste to greet
The violet from the April sod.-
But Fall and Spring can never meet!





t L .-'.-----^
i '_ i is astonishing how short a time it
JA takess for very wonderful things to
i- l' happen. It had taken only a few
i minutes, ii.[, A :ial to change all
--- the fortunes of the little boy dan-
Sgling his red legs from the highstool
_- A in Mr. Hobbs's store, and to trans-
form him from a small boy, living
the simplest life in a quiet street, into an English
nobleman, the heir to an earldom and magnificent
wealth. It had taken only a few minutes, appa-
i.i-.i, to change him from an English nobleman
into a :n il.n. little impostor, with no right to
any of the splendors he had been enjoying. And,
surprising as it may appear, it did not take nearly
so long a time as one might have expected, to alter
the face of everything again and to give back to
him all that he had been in danger of losing.
It took the less time because, after all, the
woman who had called herself Lady Fauntleroy
was not nearly so clever as she was wicked; and
when she had been closely pressed by Mr. Havi-
sham's ..q ii about her marriage and her boy,
she had made one or two blunders which had caused
suspicion to be awakened; and then she had lost
her presence of mind and her temper, and in her
excitement and anger had betrayed herself still
further. All the mistakes she made were about
her child. There seemed no doubt that she had
been married to F i-, Lord -.'.. :1 I and had
..r. -rr. -d .'-171 himand had been paid to keep away
from him; but Mr. Havisham found out that her
story of the bay's being born in a certain part of
London was false; and just when they all were in
the midst of the commotion caused by this discov-
ery, there came the letter from the young lawyer
in New .I:. and Mr. Hobbs's letters also.
What an evening it was when those letters ar-
rived, and when Mr. Havisham and the Earl sat and
talked their plans over in the -.1i ,. !
"After my first three meetings with her," said
Mr. Havisham, I began to suspect her strongly.
It appeared to me that the child was older than
she said he was, and she made a slip in speaking
of the date of his birth and then tried to patch the
matter up. The story these letters bring fits in
with several of my suspicions. Our best plan
will be to cable at once for these two T: .... 1r,:.-_
say nothing about them to her,-and suddenly

confront her with them when she is not expect-
ing it. She is only a very clumsy plotter, after all.
My opinion is that she will be frightened out of
her wits, and will betray herself on the spot."
And that was what actually happened. She was
told nothing, and Mr. Havisham kept her from
suspecting anything by continuing to have inter-
views with her, in which he assured her he was in-
vestigating her statements; and she really began
to feel so secure that her spirits rose immensely
and she began to be as insolent as might have
been expected.
But one fine morning, as she sat in her sitting-
room at the inn called "The Dorincourt Arms,"
making some very fine plans for herself, Mr. Hav-
isham was announced; and when he entered, he
was followed by no less than three persons-one was
a sharp-faced boy and one was a big young man
and the third was the Earl of Dorincourt.
She sprang to her feet and actually uttered a
cry of terror. It broke from her before she had
time to check it. She had thought of these new-
comers as being thousands of miles away, when she
had ever thought of them at all, which she had
scarcely done for years. She had never expected
to see them again. It must be confessed that Dick
grinned a little when he saw her.
Hello, Minna i he said.
The big young man who was Ben stood
still a minute and looked at her.
"Do you know her?" Mr. Havisham asked,
glancing from one to the other.
"Yes," said Ben. I know her and she knows
me." And he turned his back on her and went
and stood looking out of the window, as if the
sight of her was hateful to him, as indeed it was.
Then the woman, seeing herself so baffled and ex-
posed, lost all control over herself and flew into
such a rage as Ben and Dick had often seen her in
before. Dick grinned a trifle more as he watched
her and heard the names she called them all and
the violent threats sht made, but Ben did not
turn to look at her.
"I can swear to her in any court," he said to
Mr. Havisham, and I can bring a dozen others
who will Her father is a i.. .I. t :b-. sort of man,
il,...l h he 's low down in the world. Her mother
was just like herself. She 's dead, but he 's alive,
and he 's honest enough to be ashamed of her.
He '11 tell you who she is, and whether she mar-
ried me or not."


Then he clenched his hand suddenly and turned
on her.
Where 's the child ?" he demanded. He 's
going with me He is done with you, and so
am I! "
And just as he finished saying the words, the
door le.i ''.; into the bedroom opened little, and
the boy, probably attracted by the sound of the
loud voices, looked in. He was not a handsome
boy, but he had rather a nice face, and he was
quitlie like L, his ..ir. asany one could see, and
there was the three-cornered scar on his chin.
Ben walked up to himn and took his hand, and
his own was s r. -_ii.1 .....
"7:. ." he said, "I could swear to hiam too,
Tom," he said to the little :i. I 'm yonur
father; I "ve come to take you away. Ahere 's
your hat ? "
The boy pointed to where it lay on a chair. It
--' -.~'i'" : .-.. r i ; .1- T1 Ii n tohear that he was g -
iag away. He had been so accustomed to queer ex-
F -.r.;- -- that it did not surprise him to be told by
a stranger that he was his father. He objected so
iuch to the woman who I. .i r- .-.-:'- : -
fore t the place where h- .ii i- :J :-: 1i.- I:il-. -
hood, and who had suddenly announced that she
was his am tI .-i. that he was quite ready for a
change. Ben took up the hat and marched to the
"If ymou w-ant me again," 'he said to Mrl.. HawIi-
sham, --. u L).-,,r s- where to find me."
He walked out of the niaoim, j. i I the cihiisl".
hand and mot looking at the wsaan once.. She
was -r!i ra-ing i wixth fnry, and the Ea~n wasa
calnily ga:ing at her through hlis eyegaasse, whiich
he Iadl qnieti placed upon his i~ r. ".t ;.-. eagle
".-,_,u:N:. aomne, ar-y yMnRag wnanm i' said i r..
IawisanBiL. "This wiant do at all If youam dlltt
want to te Ilcwed up, youa Tii maist ehlasre
yweu nadlff.'"
itll nirB.- --. 1_ ... s. w r h si.,i, sg nEirb isesa-lliiein
his Ta es tifiatt, Rj. i. ..1 ii c -,, i n,. ,.,,.
shIe naifM doi weoul Ibe so get sa t of the wmay, sle
igae Nliin one aseage lanlk ad diashedi paist r lalin
uiiits itthe Mest nias aindi slnmmisased the &imr..
""WE slikadl Iucase mn mnBre tno i ulM e 10h 1iia i rut 'aidl
Mar-. Bidurii fl Ii
And lie. we s aOight; fur that *; she A lstt
the ltoaiinaast Ams adi tank te trcaiirs tI) Lsoalsn,
ard .was seen m ms...
.".. S
WEiNa61the Eaildl Ileft di tis trma aiistr sthe lnitue ,
ihe n'salt airt oie tt Itsi srtiniaga- -
STo Coanit L ssfge,$'" he sai tas Thasn in.

man as 1tos BMotel] tthe ta :;; asi" ysa irum w

depend on it, I -. is taking a uniggspected
When the carriage "C i. I at Court Lodge,
Cedric was in the drawing-roomr with his mother,
The Earl came ia ,i,.,' ., L[ He
looked an inch or so taller, and a great many years
younger. His deep eyes flashed,
.. r he said, is Lord Fauntleroy ? "
Mrs. Errol came frs Vard, a flush rising to her
"Is it Lord Fauntleroy? she asked. Is it,
indeed "
The Earl pat out his harnd and grasped heis.
-- he answered. "it is,"
Then he put his othi hand onI Cedric', shoulder,
"r1... '.i .'" he said in his incer~?einorious
authioritative way, "atl yaour mother whsen she
wki come to a at the Caste?.,

The Earl laooed at Mmi ..... *. nd Mis. rr iil
looked at the Eari. .;'llidship witu entirely in
eaRnest. lHe had miae up his min Mid to wate no
tile in sm'in g, tFhis MBati ter ie had :. l :.to
think it woulMl siit him to Make fiandss with his
heiir's mother.
'"Ame yon qaite store -yenw want was ? "' said Ms
Errol,, withhietr .. r. pretty siiie.
*.1r sTnre," he said. lnitluc. "IWe Iase
alla ys waraitesd yem, luWt w e nwre mtilt eacty I aware
Of iit. We hapne ySi willl CIome.


t- tk his i... arnis we batlk et ss iMaitctetl
raud isi. '. -"'*: "'."..., aced he retairnumasi sirnder iery
awsawfitalbe iiaiisBamtanio. jlaust Ikeliste 1 is geimg.
iE tt:. HI --,i;h .ir.,. 11,, ,.11 .di nii~altitiiiw itrlbttf l i; W
sthe llyar tsll 1ais imi ttiws the tas& i of fDaticsomnit

itauisedfl oaiit ntse li balt i rll 11 dl ao I1w haisi

Hiuiotat stalill r a (s lttAmiLtiionm ifar his t" fitrt.
Aneda wsa-e Butmwatiit asi-na,, Ire axbktMt as the ito
. ".<..11h I .i *, i .1 i I '. 1.
gBi6adl as hi5st r, aai ',,,l :'.r .ii -, i :i3 11
'iM ttiime,, uas indildl iit daill in tll te (Cnsari f o ,a fer
\atas;; aiatl -.... I'' *..- sipagE tBioit Ininto a fine
ntaniugs isUan sand wais .11 nail iffP tIbis .i.
axid 1.s wroi a sa!sa-safill atlo] lhqap thait litaM
aunil tLe ) 01. Tsa .. .. Iin far ajl -ise
uaiatiiylesfc1 : 2. il. .- ri liadL


But Dick and Mr. Hobbs-who had actually
come over with the others to see that things were
properly looked after- did not return for some time.
Ithadbeen decided at the outset that the Earl would
provide for Dick, and would see that he received a
solid education; and Mr. Hobbs had decided that as
he himself had left a reliable substitute in charge of
his store, he could afford to wait to see the festivi-

It must be confessed that at first the Earl and
Mr. Hobbs were not as intimate as it might have
been hoped they would become, in the interests of
the British aristocracy. The fact was that the
Earl had known very few grocery-men, and Mr.
Hobbs had not had many very close acquaintances
who were earls; and so in their rare interviews con-
versation did not flourish. It must also be owned

I' r .; ,. 1. I I I II1,ll '1I 1,i1 IIF ,i ,1 I. X 1 i, ,,i 1 i 1 lll iNi ,i. lli|, llll lU,|ll. II

ties which were to celebrate Lord Fauntleroy's
eighth birthday. All the tenantry were invited,
and there were to be feasting and dancing and
games in the park, and bonfires and fireworks in
the evening.
"Just like the Fourth of July!" said Lord
Fauntleroy. It seems a pity my birthday was n't
on the Fourth, does n't it? For then we could
keep them both together."

that Mr. Hobbs had been rather overwhelmed by
the splendors Fauntleroy felt it his duty to show him.
The entrance gate and the stone lions and the
avenue impressed Mr. Hobbs somewhat at the
beginning, and when he saw the Castle, and the
flower-gardens, and the hot-houses, and the ter-
races, and the peacocks, and the dungeon, and
the armor, and the great staircase, and the
stables, and the liveried servants, he really was




quite bewildered. But it was the picture gallery
which seemed to be the finishing stroke.
Something' in the manner of a museum?" he
said to Fauntleroy, when he was led into the great,
beautiful room.
"N-no-!"said Fauntleroy, rather doubt-
fully. "I don't think it's a museum. My grand-
father says these are my ancestors."
"Your aunt's sisters!" ejaculated Mr. Hobbs.
"A1l of 'em? Your great-uncle, he must have
had a family Did he raise 'em all ?"
And he sank into a seat and looked around him
with quite an agitated countenance, until with
the greatest difficulty Lord Fauntleroy managed
to explain that the walls were not lined entirely
with the portraits of the progeny of his great-
He found it necessary, in fact, to call in the
assistance of Mrs. Mellon, who knew all about the
pictures, and could tell who painted them and
when, and who added romantic stories of the lords
and ladies who were the originals. When Mr.
Hobbs once understood, and had heard some of
these stories, he was very much fascinated and liked
the picture gallery almost better than anything
else; and he would often walk over from the village
where he staid at the Dorincourt Arms, and would
spend half an hour or so wandering about the
gallery, staring at the painted ladies and gentle-
men who also stared at him, and shaking his head
nearly all the time.
"And they was all earls !" he would say," er
pretty nigh it! An' he's goin' to be one of 'em,
an' own it all! "
Privately he was not nearly so much disgusted
with earls and their mode of life as he had ex-
pected to be, and it is to be doubted whether his
strictly republican principles were not shaken a
little by a closer acquaintance with castles and
ancestors and all the rest of it. At any rate, one
day he uttered a very remarkable and unexpected
I would n't have minded bein' one of 'em
myself! he said -which was really a great con-
What a grand day it was when little Lord
Fauntleroy's birthday arrived, and how his young
lordship enjoyed it! How beautiful the park
looked, filled with the thronging people dressed
in their gayest and best, and with the flags flying
from the tents and the top of the Castle! Nobody
had staid away who could possibly come, be-
cause everybody was really glad that little Lord
Fauntleroy was to be little Lord Fauntleroy still,
and some day was to be the master of everything.
Every one wanted to have a look at him, and at
his pretty, kind mother, who had made so many

friends. And positively every one liked the Earl
rather better, and felt more amiably toward him
because the little boy loved and trusted him so,
and because, also, he had now made friends with
and behaved respectfully to his heir's mother.
It was said that he was even beginning to be
fond of her, too, and that between his young
lordship and his young lordship's mother, the
Earl might be changed in time into quite a well-
behaved old nobleman, and everybody might be
happier and better off.
What scores and scoresof people there were under
the trees, and in the tents, and on the lawns! Farmers
and farmers' wives in their Sunday suits and bon-
nets and shawls; girls and their sweethearts;
children frolicking and chasing about; and old


dames in red cloaks gossiping together. At the
Castle, there were ladies and gentlemen who had
come to see the fun, and to congratulate the Earl,
and to meet Mrs. Errol. Lady Lorredaile and Sir
Harry were there, and Sir Thomas Asshe and his
daughters, and Mr. Havisham, of course, and


then beautiful Miss Vivian Herbert, with the love-
liest white gown and lace parasol, and a circle of
gentlemen to take care of her-though she evi-
dently liked Fauntleroy better than all of them put
together. And when he saw her and ran to her and
put his arm around her neck, she put her arms
around him, too, and kissed him as warmly as if
he had been her own favorite little brother, and
she said:
Dear little Lord Fauntleroy dear little boy !
I am so glad! I am so glad! "
And afterward she walked about the grounds
with him, and let him show her everything. And
when he took her to where Mr. Hobbs and Dick
were, and said to her, "This is my old, old friend
Mr. Hobbs, Miss Herbert, and this is my other
old friend Dick. I told them hon pretty you were,
and I told them they should see you if you came
to my birthday,"-she shook hands with them
both, and stood and talked to them in her prettiest
way, asking them about America and their voyage
and their life since they had been in England;
while Fauntleroy stood by, looking up at her with
adoring eyes, and his cheeks quite flushed with
delight because he saw that Mr. Hobbs and Dick
liked her so much.
Well," said Dick solemnly, afterward, she
's the daisiest gal I ever saw! She 's-well,
she 's just a daisy, that 's what she is, 'n no
mistake! "
Everybody looked after her as she passed, and
every one looked after little Lord Fauntleroy.
And the sun shone and the flags fluttered and the
games were played and the dances danced, and as
the gayeties went on and the joyous afternoon
passed, his little lordship was simply radiantly
The whole world seemed beautiful to him.
There was some one else who was happy, too,-
an old man, who, though he had been rich and
noble all his life, had not often been very honestly
happy. Perhaps, indeed, I shall tell you that I
think it was because he was rather better than
he had been that he was rather happier. He
had not, indeed, suddenly become as good as
Fauntleroy thought him; but, at least, he had be-
gun to love something, and he had several times
found a sort of pleasure in doing the kind things
which the innocent, kind little heart of a child had
suggested,- and that was a beginning. And every
day he had been more pleased with his son's wife.
It was true, as the people said, that he was begin-
ning to like her too. He liked to hear her sweet
voice and to see her sweet face; and as he sat in his
armchair, he used to watch her and listen as she
talked to her boy; and he heard loving, gentle
words which were new to him, and he began to see

why the little fellow who had lived in a New York
side street and known grocery-men and made
friends with boot-blacks, was still so well-bred
and manly a little fellow that he made no one
ashamed of him, even when fortune changed him
into the heir to an English earldom, living in an
English castle.
It was really a very simple thing, after all,-
it was only that he had lived near a kind and
gentle heart, and had been taught to think kind
thoughts always and to care for others. It is
a very little thing, perhaps, but it is the best
thing of all. He knew nothing of earls and
castles; he was quite ignorant of all grand and
splendid things; but he was always lovable because
he was simple and loving. To be so is like being
born a king.
As the old Earl of Dorincourt looked at him that
day, moving about the park among the people,
talking to those he knew and making his ready
little bow when any one greeted him, entertaining
his friends Dick and Mr. Hobbs, or standing near
his mother or Miss Herbert listening to their con-
versation, the old nobleman was very well satisfied
with him. And he had never been better satisfied
than he was when they went down to the biggest
tent, where the more important tenants of the
Dorincourt estate were sitting down to the grand
collation of the day.
They were drinking toasts; and, after they had
drunk the health of the Earl, with much more en-
thusiasm than his name had ever been greeted
with before, they proposed the health of Little
Lord Fauntleroy." And if there had ever been any
doubt at all as to whether his lordship was popular
or not, it would have been settled that instant. Such
a clamor of voices, and such a rattle of glasses and
applause They had begun to like him so much,
those warm-hearted people, that they forgot to feel
any restraint before the ladies and gentlemen from
the castle, who had come to see them. They
made quite a decent uproar, and one or two
motherly women looked tenderly at the little fellow
where he stood, with his mother on one side and
the Earl on the other, and grew quite moist about
the eyes, and said to one another:
God bless him, the pretty little dear "
Little Lord Fauntleroy was delighted. He
stood and smiled, and made bows, and flushed
rosy red with pleasure up to the roots of his bright
Is it because they like me, Dearest? he said
to his mother. Is it, Dearest? I 'm so glad "
And then the Earl put his hand on the child's
shoulder and said to him:
Fauntleroy, say to them that you thank them
for their kindness."



Fauntleroy gave a glance up at him and then at should like it, but now I do -and I love this
his mother. place so, and I think it is beautiful-and-and-
Must I!" he asked just a trifle shyly, and she and when I am an earl, I am going to try to be as
smiled, and so did Miss Herbert, and they both good as my grandfather."


nodded. And so he made a little step forward,
and everybody looked at him-such a !,- i.iriiT.
innocent little fellow he was, too, with his brave,
trustful face!-and he spoke as 1,, n1i. -- he could,
his childish voice ringing out quite clearand strong.
"I 'm ever so much ,-. _.y:.j to you!" he said,
"and-I hope you '11 enjoy birthday --because
I 've enjoyed it so much--and--I 'm very glad
I 'm going to be an earl- I did n't think at first I

And amid the shouts and clamor of applause, he
':j' .-.. backwith a :i r.r I.: '-' .of relief, and put his
hand into, the Earl's and stood close to him, r- -
and leaning against his side.

And that would be the very end of my story;
but I must add one curious piece of information,
which is that Mr. Hobbs became so fascinated
with high life and was so reluctant to leave his



young friend that he actually sold his corner store
in New York, and settled in the English village of
Erlesboro, where he opened a shop which was
patronized by the Castle and consequently was a
great success. And though he and the Earl never
became very intimate, if you will believe me, that
man Hobbs became in time more aristocratic than
his lordship himself, and he read the Court news
every morning, and followed all the doings of the
House of Lords And about ten years after, when

Dick, who had finished his education and was going
to visit his brother in California, asked the good
grocer if he did not wish to return to America, he
shook his head seriously.
"Not to live there," he said. "Not to live
there; I want to be near him, an' sort o' look
after him. It's a good enough country for
them that's young an' stirrin'-but there 's faults
in it. There's not an auntsister among 'em-nor
a earl!"




OCTOBER comes across the hill
Like some light ghost, she is so still,
Though her sweet cheeks are rosy;
And through the floating thistle-down
Her trailing, brier-tangled gown
Gleams like a crimson posy.

The crickets in the stubble chime;
Lanterns flash out at milking time;
The daisy 's lost her ruffles;
The wasps the honeyed pippins try;
A film is over the blue sky,
A spell the river muffles.

The golden-rod fades in the sun;
The spider's gauzy veil is spun
Athwart the drooping sedges;

The nuts drop softly from their burrs;
No bird-song the dim silence stirs,-
A blight is on the hedges.

But filled with fair content is she,
As if no frost could ever be,
To dim her brown eyes' luster;
And much she knows of fairy folk
That dance beneath the spreading oak
With tinkling mirth and bluster.

She listens when the dusky eves
Step softly on the fallen leaves,
As if for message cheering;
And it must be that she can hear,
Beyond November grim and drear,
The feet of Christmas nearing.






ONE bright spring morning, two boys were
walking out into the open country, near the little
village of Cowes, on the Isle of Wight. Each lad
carried under his arm a miniature cutter. It was
the day of the great race between the Sea Mew
and the Prince Albert, the reputations of which,
as winning cruisers, had been earned in many a
hard-fought battle on the pond then in sight. A
number of boys were already at the shore, and
their boats, beating up and down the lake, gave it
a very animated appearance. As Ralph and Dick
approached, bringing the champion cutters, all
the competitors moved to the head of the lake,
and soon the signal for the race was given. The Sea
Mew and the Prince Albert got off first; then
came the smaller boats; while following up the
race, some in a skiff and some along shore, the boys
shouted and cheered the imaginary skippers of
the various crafts, who, it must be confessed,
sailed them in a rather curious way. As the
Prince Albert rounded the stake on the home-
stretch, a queer personage came aboard. The
boys were allowed to put their crafts about, and
Ralph had waded out and was just about to stop
his boat, when it came in collision with a floating
mass of leaves that threw it up into the wind.
From the wrecked leaves nimbly darted the only
survivor, a large spider, so alarmed at the catas-
trophe that it reached the crosstrees of the Prince
Albert before it even looked about it.
"The Prince has been boarded by a ship-
wrecked crew shouted Ralph, giving the mast
a rap that sent the spider to the topmast-head.
Let him stay," said Dick, picking up the
leaves that now floated by. You ran him down,
and now you must take him ashore, or we '11 treat
you as they did the man in America who was tarred
and feathered and carried in a cart."
So the spider was taken back by the cutter to
the starting-point, and it must have brought good
luck to the cutter, for the Prince Albert came in
ahead and won the cup,'' as the boys called the
old-fashioned blue soup-tureen, ornamented with
figures of Neptune and dolphins. And within
this receptacle the shipwrecked spider was carefully
placed after the race was over.
Here 's his craft! said Dick. Let 's put it
in some water and see if he '11 take to it again."
So the cup was filled and the layer of leaves
thrown in, when the spider, without a moment's
hesitation, leaped into the water from the side

of the tureen or cup and soon clambered
upon the leaves, much to the amusement of the
young yachtsmen, who had gathered around to
see what it would do.
In this manner, Dick and Ralph carried the
spider home to Dick's father, who told the boys,
much to their astonishment, that it was a ship-
building spider.
"Examine the leaves more closely," he said.
" Don't you find that the bunch has not been acci-
dentally caught together, but that the leaves have
been drawn carefully one over another, and fast-
ened together by silken cords, forming a perfect
boat? "
The boys soon saw that this was indeed the fact,
and, much interested, they started out next day, de-
termined to become better acquainted with these

.-- .
\-^ "




nimble little boatmen. They were amply repaid for
their trouble; for they had not gone far when
Dick cried:
Here is one, Ralph In a little bay, Dick
had discovered a small bunch of leaves whirling
around and around, and lying closely upon it
a large and handsome spider that might easily
have been the First Lord of the Admiralty of
the Spider-Oueen's navy. Around its brown
body was a band, or sash, of rich orange color
barred in a curious manner; while a double row
of white spots upon the under side, Ralph said,


represented its rank. Its legs were a light red-
and altogether its outward coloring made up a very
fanciful and appropriate uniform.
But I grieve to say that the spider was really a
pirate of the boldest and most cruel type. Finding
that the circular motion was caused by the peculiar
way in which the turned-up tip of a leaf caught the
breeze, Ralph gave the craft a start, and away it
went before the wind, the red-legged skipper lying
low for plunder.
Near the head of the pond several members of the
Dolomedes fimbriatus family (for this is their scien-
tific name) were found, and the boys came upnn nne
fellow in the very act of starting out on a .-:.
By lying upon the bank and keeping v. :r it.
the lads finally gained possession of many s..._ir ..t
this cunning ship-builder. At first th.: pr.l.:
seemed to be looking for something in t.!. '.-::
near the water's edge; finally he seized ip.:i'..
dead leaf, which he dragged down a slight ...'. i...
where the boys now saw several other le;, : .:..'-
lected. By deft movements of his long legs, i-, -i
was lifted and tucked in between the othe': r l:
builder lashing them together by silken cor:l I. :,
he spun, and fastened them by a simple pre: u:i .: .i
his body against the leaf. This leaf being sai r i'..:t..

the strength of his craft. The vessel gradually grew
in size until it was an inch and a half thick and four
inches across, when it seemed to satisfy its owner.
The spider now ran down to the water several
times, returning every time thoroughly to inspect
the vessel; finally, taking the craft in his strong
mandibles, or jaws, he drew it several inches toward
the water. Then, resting for a moment, he took
it a second time by the side and drew it fairly to
the water's edge. Once there, he took a last hold,
the leafy ship glided clear of the shore, and the gay

-.-. ,

.(,'. '..r.
.- -.

I., ,


rily placed, another was brought, and the same proc-
ess repeated, the creature running rapidly about,
passing silken cords over the entire mass, and now
and then raising himself up and down, as if testing

launcher, leaping aboard with surprising skill,
sailed out into the stream.
But the launch was not even yet a success. A
spear of grass growing from the water became en-
tangled in the silken cables, and stopped the fairy
craft. The spider rushed at the obstruction, seized
it in his mandibles, and, to the astonishment of
the watchers, walked down it into the water. Soon
he re-appeared and again scrambled aboard. But
as he now seemed to be greatly agitated and dis-
turbed, the boys here interfered, and cast off
the raft for him, whereupon the skipper settled
down as if completely satisfied. If they touched
him with a blade of grass, he darted into the
water and clung to the under side, coming out when



the danger was over.
Soon an unfortunate fly
alighted near the raft,
when the pirate, instead
ofrowing his boat along-
side, actually dashed
into the water to secure
his victim, swimming
back to the raft to de-
vour it at his leisure.
The last the boys saw
of the spider, he had
jumped again at some-
thing that rippled the
water; but he never re-
turned. Possibly a self-
satisfied young frog that
soon hopped upon the
bank could have ex-
plained the absence of
the skipper of the now
deserted craft.
Thoroughly interest-
ed, the boys repeatedly
watched the spiders,
and studied their man-
ners and their labors.
They found also another
spider, which, although
it did not make a raft,
had no fear of the water,
and frequently went
fishing ; while Dick's
father told them of still
another that lived under
water by carrying down
bubbles of air with it.
Its home, too, might be
called a queer diving-
bell, as may be seen
from the illustration.
There are certain ants
that show quite as
much intelligence as the
spider, and the "driver
ants" not only build
boats, but launch them,
too; only, these boats
are formed of their own
bodies. They are called
drivers," because of
their ferocity. Nothing
can stand before the at-
tacks of these little crea-
tures. Large pythons
have been killed by
them in a single night,




while chickens, lizards, and other animals in West-
ern Africa flee from them in terror. To protect
themselves from the heat they erect arches under
which numerous armies of them pass in safety.

Som r-tmer : trh-, .:-- I.: .. .,.: :, .'-- .T'h,' ,- 1 .rd-
gunimL -Ld i.: th.r b -.:. .. .: ..i ... r, ..
it is t'.rm.i. b', th I .....I, ...I [I- r I l- r ,:,
hold t-'IT[;.:I. r: ;:- .'-t rL r .... r i ,-
w hil,: th 1-.r'l: !- -'I "' LrIn.:l.,-r rl.i n..
A t ,2ir tf i oi ,: l r l-, ,:1 t.,:il,- .',. fl,.
th e .:..u r [tr, Irh 1l [,.i ., l .1 i.: ." t.t,.,: I i
th en th .it thl'e :, n i- : .: "i. ii i :'i- :
sudd.:n\i and trl : ll- ...' in.: iH .li-.: .- .' :.i... .i
in b ', rh,- fi-....d bu. t i i i .. ,-I .: .:, .. .. i .
face I .. attl.: d Ih iii t.:.i .. -. .. I l.:-,i .p .ri [,:.
destruLi:i[.rt .:.iour .:.f th, u niI-i I .. b l'.--!: L.,- t tl-l
ride -.at'.:1 .:.n t eic
wat r :n-Il .-i
awa, Ac ih: hi-L
war-inr dr i- ,r,

the ilt. r.:urai.r-
rush. i., h. l i .J
form i -.! b 'ail -I
ants, the ...:* ;.-r in-
the .:,nr-r : .l iie
this ball i: i.ir .
than c .:., .,.
base-b:ill. .lr,.i Irn
th is ,.. a,.' thl .' rl.:,:tt
about .ini rl .
lodge' a-Za.:tiini: -:
tree, u po-n ii t
branches of which
they are soon safe

and sound. And from this resting-
place they escape by their curious
bridges, a description of which was
given in "Jack-in-the-Pulpit," in
ST. NICHOLAS for July, 1881.
'-1 ,,. ,i.i.'k -_ 1 i |. :r .. l I f .' -i'ij -

_-" 'ii ,i .: -t Ir- ,_i.- ,,,t.:t. t. r I.. : .-

.. l.r -- i th ..inr. .T.- I I i ;
-.- i, I i ii r .- .. .i' i

-- tui : I .il' -.,'. ,--.* r l_,'- rI,:.,.--.

ri.: a i l,1.1,:- il. : I.I.. r. lii./ :,
i5' _. .l, -:.k t .. ,: t _.t + t

"?I --,,, tie r ,.- _. .,[t, t e t,
_, !- )t;t. (Ii i~ 1 1 t ,_ I ~ -

hi':* l- i


'I I: 'I I ''
-1 I

CA -


0I r. I
~~'I I'- I'f;






clerk with feathery pens behind her ear, constructs
a nest that will rise and fall with the tides, and can
be moved from place to place. The boat is first
built of rushes and grass; this is then packed with
moss, and lined and relined until it is perfectly water-
tight; and in this the eggs are laid. The home


either is anchored to tufts of grass, or drifts, per-
haps, here and there, though always guided by the
mother-skipper, as she stands by the helm in all
kinds of weather. We have seen that the spider is
completely at the mercy of the wind, but the grebe
propels her boat along. If the young are half grown,
they readily take to the water; but if they are just
hatched, the mother, at the approach of danger,
steps upon one side of the boat, and uses one of
her webbed feet as an oar to paddle away from the
enemy into one of the innumerable inlets or lanes
in the marsh, where she is almost sure to escape.
In the warm waters of the Indian Ocean a
strange mariner is found that has given rise to
many curious tales among the natives of the
coast thereabout. They tell of a wonderful sail
often seen in the calm seasons preceding the
terrible hurricanes that course over those waters.
Not a breath then disturbs the water, the sea

rises and falls like a vast sheet of glass; suddenly
the sail appears, glistening with rich purple and
golden hues, and seemingly driven along by a
mighty wind. On it comes, quivering and spark-
ling, as if bedecked with gems, but only to disap-
pear as if by magic. Many travelers had heard



with unbelief this strange tale; but one day the
phantom craft actually appeared to the crew of an
Indian steamer, and as it passed by under the
stern of the vessel, the queer "sail" was seen
to belong to a gigantic sword-fish, now known as
the sailor-fish. The sail was really an enormously
developed dorsal fin that was over ten feet high,
and was richly colored with blue and iridescent
tints; and as the fish swam along on or near the
surface of the water, this great fin naturally waved
to and fro, so that, from a distance, it could easily
be mistaken for a curious sail.
Some of these fishes attain a length of over
twenty feet, and have large, crescent-shaped tails
and long, sword-like snouts, capable of doing
great damage.
In the Mediterranean Sea, a sword-fish is found
that also has a high fin, but it does not equal the
great sword-fish of the Indian Ocean.







DECEMBER came and went, and although the
girls had agreed to postpone their accustomed giv-
ing of gifts to one another until spring, when they
hoped to present trophies of the winter's warfare,
the season was otherwise filled with the usual
Our heroines had not in the least relaxed their
interest in the world in general, because of their
interest in their own worlds in particular, and had
not cut loose," as Nan at first had threatened.
But, as their lives began to have more of purpose
in them, their tastes changed somewhat, so that
gradually the most "frothy" of their society friends
drifted away unregretted, while new people, whom
they had found out," as Evelyn phrased it, one
by one slipped into the vacant places.
So it was that with less frequent but more
spirited contact with society, the winter months
flew away, and when the first rays of June
sunshine streamed through the glass roof into
"Cathy's kingdom," the most joyous sight they
fell upon was the happy face of the proud mistress,
as she went about among the radiant blooms and
verdure, cutting her choicest buds for Evelyn's
luncheon, to be given that day in honor of Nan's
return and the reunion of the "jolly four."
When the girls met in the Ferrises' dining-room,
and surveyed Evelyn's beautiful table arrange-
ments, they were more than usually jolly, and as
that sweet young housekeeper had taken much pride
in her festive board, she was deeply gratified by
their exclamations of approval.
They pirouetted around and around it, admiring
everything, beginning with the artistic lunch-cloth,
embroidered by the same fingers which had laid a
handful of Cathy's flowers across each napkin;
and they would have proceeded to scrutinize each
separate detail, had not Bert seized upon a card
bearing her name, attached to a cunning basket,
which, in its turn, was tied with a gorgeous bow to
one of the chairs. This discovery stimulated re-
search on the part of the others, and immediately
each guest was "pouncing," as Bert said, on her
own particular basket.
Nan was the first to investigate the contents.
"Bonbons !" she shouted. "'What richness! After
luncheon, let 's toast these marsh-mallows on the
ends of hat-pins over a lamp!-But who is the

Diving among the sweets for a clew, Cathy suc-
ceeded in finding a card which bore the inscrip-
tion: "From the cook. Warranted pure."
You did n't make 'em, Evelyn?" exclaimed
Bert, popping a chocolate-cream into her mouth.
"Yes, I did," laughed Evelyn, "and it's as
easy !-But see here !" and she held aloft a tawny
yellow vase, with a flight of butterflies, in all rich
hues, encircling the top.
"Waiting for the flowers with which I hope soon
to be able to fill them," Cathy said, as the girls
looked radiantly at her work, and Bert hugged one
of Pompeiian red, with dull blue butterflies, while
Nan suggested the "divine" effect that scarlet
nasturtiums would make with the yellow butter-
flies and the peacock-blue background of hers.
In the meanwhile, Bert, making further search
under the fringe of the table-cloth, brought to view
a fascinating cabinet. "With a place for a plaque,
a place for a jug, and a place for my jar!" she
shouted; while Cathy added, as she lovingly sur-
veyed hers, "Yes, and a place for secrets behind
the cunning little door !"
Don't, girls! protested Nan, as they heaped
thanks upon her. "You need n't worry; they
are not mahogany, nothing but pine, and a
cheap carpenter made them, and I stained and
polished them myself, so they cost hardly anything."
Oh, now, Nan, if you have been to New York
and do up your hair in a newway, you can't get me
to believe that! said Bert decidedly; while Evelyn
asked sarcastically, "And did you also design
them, Nannie ?"
Of course! What am I studying for, if I can't
design a simple shelf?" cried her sister.
The girls opened their eyes wide, but Nan
averted another avalanche of praise by producing
the last article on her chair. She gave a deep
sigh of satisfaction as she comprehended that
Bert had bestowed upon her a set of photographs
of the most famous pictures in the world; while
Cathy sat down and gloated over her "Goethe
Gallery," and Evelyn smiled into the faces of
her favorite authors.
"I beg pardon, Bert," said Nan, "for the
vulgarity of admiring the setting as much as the
gem,-but, girls, will you just observe the mag-
nificence of these Japanese leather portfolios?"
The girls observed with joy, and Evelyn said:
Considering how smart we have already shown
ourselves to be, I venture to inquire, dear Bert, if


.886.] NAN'S REVOLT.

you took the photographs yourself, or only tanned
the leather ?"
Neither," laughed Bert; I only earned them
with my inky fingers, so they are the first real pres-
ents I ever gave And now let us sit down and
admire one another."
You would be more sensible to admire my
bouillon," suggested Evelyn, as she ordered in the
cups containing the first course.
So the merriment went on, through all the
changes of Evelyn's dainty banquet, while the
girls compared notes on their various experiences.





"Low, very low; but my spirits are not, and
what matters it therefore, so long as I 'm happy?"
answered the confidential clerk. "No, money is n't
everything, for I have a gain far better. I feel gen-
uine; I respect Miss Me; and, best of all, I have
found my father. So, Nannie dear, I thank you sin-
cerely, for I never was so happy in my life. So much
for my grand total, with a large deficit of ennui."
There was a general clicking of spoons in the
after-dinner coffee-cups by way of applause, as
Bert finished; and she at once demanded that
Nan should next be heard.


"Let us add up, subtract, and get our totals, both
financially and spiritually," said Bert. "Who '11
begin?-Ah, what delicious chicken croquettes
these are, Evelyn! -Come, Nan You are respon-
sible for the whole social and moral revolution, you
know; so lead off with your account."
Nonsense," replied that young .woman; "if
I had n't begun it, one of you would have fired
our noble hearts,-for we should have died of
inanition if we had lolled in the lap of luxury
another week. So as you, Bert, scrambled down
to the ground first, you should begin the reports.
How is your exchequer?"
VOL. XIII.-57.

The young artist responded promptly:
"Well, we all are happy, I hope,-because,
thank goodness, it is no longer the chief object of
our lives to be so; that is one of the valuable
lessons I have learned as I sat, day after day, at
table between fat Miss Lee and thin Miss Jennings.
I have been dreadfully discouraged at times, but I
used to have worse 'blues' when I was only trying
to amuse myself. I have had a happy winter; and
even if I never sell a design (I hope to sell at least
one next year), I never shall regret the experiment
I have made; for the feeling of self-reliance is
better than a bag' of gold to your friend Nan "



But how about the fun you were bent on hav-
ing? mildly inquired Cathy.
"Oh, I 've had a delightful time Girls with
a purpose are twice as interesting as those with-
out; and as most of us were impecunious, we had
numberless gay little three-cent larks. Ha, I can
tell you there was no lack of fun and Nan
laughed at certain merry remembrances. "But
now, Cathy," she resumed, I pine to know all
about that famous greenhouse."
Green-hzouses," replied the young florist, with
dignity. All flowers can't grow in the same
temperature, my dear."
Oh,- I want to know drawled Nan. But
are you dreadfully in debt? And do things really
sprout ? "
"Sprout!" exclaimed Evelyn. "You would
think so, Nan, if you had seen the big basket of
yellow pansies she sent to old Mrs. Burk on the
anniversary of her wedding-day But Cathy will
never roll in wealth; she gives all her flowers
away. She ought to hang out a sign with the
words Flower Mission' on it." And Evelyn gave
her friend a loving glance.
Never mind," retorted Cathy, blushing a
little. "Our crusade was not so much to earn
money as for the right to be happy, each in her
own way; and since I have repaid what Fred
loaned me, I can give away my very own things if
I wish to, especially as they are usually in the good
company of jellies and other lovely delicacies from
Evelyn's larder," she added. But don't be dis-
turbed, my dears, about my generosity; I shall
charge you opulent creatures a good round dollar
for every bud you get of me.-And now, Evelyn,
it 's your turn; but your luncheon has been more
eloquent than words -- "
No, no broke in Nan, with sudden mourn-
fulness ; "Evelyn has been an egregious failure, so
far as her family is concerned; she has struck for
higher wages -- "

But a look from her sister warned Nan not to go
further, while Cathy burst out:
Oh, Evelyn, let me tell! "
No," she said, with an odd expression of min-
gled pride and timidity on her face. "I will tell it
myself; why should n't I ? Besides, all but Bert
know of it already, and I 'm sure she suspects."
Are you really ? wildly demanded Bert, in-
consequently except to the feminine mind.
Yes, really! answered Evelyn with shining
eyes and flushed cheeks, while Nan groaned:
Oh, Bert, woe is me! To think that I aided
and abetted in this miserable business by encourag-
ing Cathy to become independent, and so allowed
her brother Fred to engage my sister for a wife "
You gave me a sister! cried Cathy, as she
tipped over her chair in an excited rush at Evelyn,
whom she clasped in her arms, crying a little for
joy, although her brother had partly prepared her
for the glad news,- while Bert exclaimed heartily:
"You have my blessing, Evelyn dear! -And are
there anymore secrets to be divulged? Nan, you
are in the designing business. Is there any decora-
tive youth in view ?"
"Not for me laughed Nan. "But, Bert,
where has all your money gone? I expected you
to ask me to accompany you and some delightful
chaperon to Europe this summer, at your expense."
Oh, I frittered my funds away! she cried.
"Come, come; let us toast the marsh-mallows.
Light the droplight, Evelyn. Where are the hat-
pins ? "
Now, Bert," said Evelyn, seriously, I have
found out your secret, and I 'm going to tell --"
But Bert had escaped and was flying upstairs, while
Evelyn continued : She has given a library to the
working-girls' association, and all that the world
knows is that it came from a girl who is thankful
to have found out how much better work is than
idleness.' That 's what Bert has done with her
money! "




WE were working in the garden,
My little boy and I,
Both digging weeds,
And planting seeds
To blossom by and by.

" Here is some pop-corn, dear," I
" I '11 give you for your own;

To plant and hoe,
And watch it grow,
And have it when it 's grown."

He took the kernels eagerly,
His little hoe he dropped,
Then, out he burst: -
"Let's pop it first,
So it will come up popped !"



THE Fair Rosamond, sloop yacht, N. Y. Y. C.,
lay at anchor off the east shore of Cape Cod Bay,
her polished brasswork and white hull glittering
like gold and silver in the morning sunlight. No
one was visible on board, forward or aft, until
presently a youthful form showed itself above the
cabin hatch, halting there a moment to survey the
scene, and then stepping forth in full view upon
the deck. This was Jasper. The noticeable
things about Jasper were his homely, freckled
face, his slim, ungainly figure, and his intensely
solemn air. One would have thought, to look at
him, that he was the most sober person in the world,
whereas, in point of fact, he was never known to
be serious two minutes at a time, and was forever
making fun. He stood there for several moments,
his hands in the pockets of his yachting jacket,
yawning lazily and looking forward along the deck.
"Well," he at length observed, "this is a hila-
rious state of things, I must say I wonder when
those men are coming?" Suddenly he assumed an
attitude of declamation, and, raising his head and
throwing out his right hand by way of gesture, he
exclaimed :
"' The boy stood on the burning deck,
Whence all but him had fled "

These lines, not altogether inappropriate so far
as they went, were interrupted here by some one
coming up softly from behind and seizing the
speaker by the collar. He quickly freed himself,
however, and turning about, with hand still ex-
tended, finished his verse in good order:

'When some one seized him by the neck.
He turned; 't was Captain Fred.' "

Captain Fred laughed.
So here you are," said he, come up like a
whale to spout."

"A very good joke, my dear brother," replied
Jasper. "I 'll tell you a better, though."
What 's that ? asked Captain Fred.
Your merry men have not appeared yet."
"What exclaimed the captain, scowling and
looking forward.
Owing to a serious disagreement between the
yacht's foremast hands, Captain Fred had sum-
marily discharged them all, and sent his sailing-
master to Provincetown to pick up a new crew.
It was now the third day that he had been absent
on this errand; and Captain Fred had counted
upon his arrival, with the four sailor men, by an
early train that morning. This is dreadfully
annoying !" he declared.

In vain the captain shouted -' "

Jasper began quoting again.
Jasper had a talent for quotations, as the reader
will presently perceive. But again he was cut off
by an arrival on deck, this time that of three young
ladies and a small boy. These were Captain
Fred's pretty young wife, his niece Ethel, her
intimate friend Kitty, and little Fred,--the last
sometimes known as Frederick the Little. as dis-
tinguished from his uncle, Captain Frederick the
Great. The girls looked wonderfully fresh and
pretty, considering they had just made their toilet
in a seven by nine state-room. Kitty was Ethel's
school friend, and had only been with them a few
days. She was a bright, vivacious young person,
however, and had already made herself quite at
home on board. It was she who spoke up now.
What is the matter, Captain Fred? cried she.
" Are the tea-kettle halliards foul again, this morn-
ing? This was in allusion to a joke of Jasper's,
the first morning she had been on board.
"The matter is," said Captain Fred, looking
as pleasant as he could, that our crew has



not yet arrived; and we may have to lie here
a day or two longer."
At breakfast, Captain Fred announced that he
was going ashore. Something must be done at
once about a crew. He should run
down to Provincetown himself, and
should not return until the afternoon at
the earliest. Meanwhile, they must get
along as best they could. The yacht
was in a perfectly safe position; the
steward (the only man left on board)
was an entirely competent and trust-
worthy person; and the sailing-master
himself would be back, without fail,
before night. And since I am with-
out a crew," Captain Fred concluded,
"I think that you young people will
have to man my gig for me."
This proposal was agreed \
to, willingly enough; adJ .-

.....- --.~ t I


a few minutes later, the gig being brought along-
side, Jasper called Giglers away!" and they
all got in, Ethel and Kitty at the oars (they were
accustomed to rowing together), Freddy in the
bow, and Captain Fred and Jasper in the stern-
sheets. Mrs. Fred preferred to remain on board
and read. They pulled directly inshore. The vil-
lage and railroad station were some distance below,
but much nearer by land than by water. Good-
bye, all "said Captain Fred as he jumped ashore.

"Take good care of yourselves. And, Jasper, do
try to behave yourself for one day." Then he
waved his gripsack and was gone.
They rowed along, not caring to land,-for
the shore everywhere
had the genuine Cape
.. aspect, barren and
C. finding it pleasure
enough to float upon
the bosom of the
S sparkling blue water,
Snow drifting idly,
Snow pulling them-
selves here and there
S i as the fancy seized
Them. They chatted
'' and laughed and
-- shouted, growing
S even boisterous by
and by, Freddy and
the two girls getting
*- into a regular romp at
", last in the forward
-.__ _i part of the boat.
Jasper (who was not
S strong) sat looking
l down upon this with
an air of elderly in-
.r-nA- dulgence. It was one
...A,.' of Jasper's delights
"' "., -' to give himself pa-
itriarchal airs. Al-
_. Ii'.4 though just Ethel's
Sage, sixteen, he was,
S like Captain Fred,
Uncle to both her and
Freddy,-a relation-
ship which had, by
courtesy, been ex-
tended to Kitty dur-
ing her stay with
St, N them, though that
young lady had pro-
T fessed herself quite
MOND." indifferent to the
honor,- and he loved
to talk of his avuncular responsibilities."
Ah, children," he now declared, it does your
poor old uncle good to see you enjoying yourselves
in this way.
S'I love to look on a scene like this,
Of wild and careless play,
And persuade myself that I am not old,
And my locks are not yet gray.'"
"Jasper," asked Kitty, flushed with exercise and
suddenly resting on her oar, can you sing ?"




"Sing!" Jasper looked at her as though he
thought her crazy. "My dear niece, what can
you be thinking of? I could no more sing than
I could-raise a pair of side-whiskers." He gave
his cheek a melancholy tap.
Oh, yes, you can! said Kitty. You can sing
something,--can't you? Some old song or other."
"Some old song?" Jasper shook his head.
"No," said he,
"'I can not sing the old songs';
It is not that 1 deem them low,
'T is that I can't remember
How they go."

"Pshaw!" cried Kitty, who evidently had some
object in view. "I am sure you can sing some-
thing,-and you must. Don't you know 'Hail
Columbia,' or 'Home, Sweet Home,' or 'Bonnie
Doon'? "
I know 'Old Grimes,'" said Jasper.
"'Old Grimes'? Well let me hear it."
So Jasper began to sing, to a tolerably correct
air but in a voice which was far from musical,
the song Old Grimes is Dead." He grew some-
what in love with his own performance as he
proceeded, and gave the "old gray coat" such a
thorough buttoning down before" in the chorus,
that Kitty grew impatient.
"Why, to be sure! "she interrupted. "That
air is the same as 'Auld Lang Syne,' and will do
perfectly." Then she turned to Freddy: "Now,
Freddy, what can you sing?"
"Oh, I say," protested Jasper, "you're not
going to make Freddy exhibit himself, too ?

Strike, if you will, this old gray head,'
But spare a little boy like Fred."

Kitty inexorably repeated her question; and
Freddy, showing no disposition to plead his ten-
der years as an excuse, declared that he could
sing "'Way down upon the Suwanee River," and
he freely opened his mouth and delivered himself
of a verse of the song indicated, in proof of his
"That will do capitally," pronounced Miss Kitty.
" And, Ethel, you can take 'Ben Bolt,' say, and
I will take 'Home, Sweet Home.' The simpler and
more familiar the tunes the better. And now I 'll
tell you what I wish you to do. It 's ever so much
fun We tried it one day, up at Lenox, and we
got into a perfect gale over it. It's just this:
Whatever any one of us has to say, no matter
what it is and without any exception, we must sing
it instead of saying it, every one using the tune
assigned him or her. Do you understand ?
It's the ei-siest thing in the wuh-6rld, when wuh-6nce you
have tried-it."

She calmly illustrated her meaning to the tune
of "Home, Sweet Home."
Of course," she added, "it 's perfectly ridic-
ulous. But that 's the fun of it, you know."
They all fell in with the scheme at once, though
Jasper proposed to improve it a little.
Would n't it be well," he suggested, to pre-
scribe some penalty or forfeit in case anybody for-
gets, and talks instead of singing? Suppose, for
instance, we agree, each of us, to pay ten cents
every time we break the rule, all money so ob-
tained to be devoted to some charitable object."
"I consent to that," said Ethel, quite approv-
And I, too cried Kitty. It will make us
all the more particular."
"Well, then, I don't!" shouted Freddy, rising
up, very red in the face. It's all very well for
you people who have allowances. But I 'm not as
rich as the Pennsylvania Railroad Company my-
"Well, youngster," said Jasper, "we'll only
charge you five cents when you break over."
To this Freddy assented.
"And, of course," Jasper continued, "we 'll
have to make the agreement for a certain length
of time -two hours, say. Will that do? Very
well,"--looking at his watch,--"it is distinctly
understood then that from this moment-it is now
half-past eleven-for two whole hours we shall
sing everything we have to say, every one to the
tune agreed on, and that we shall pay the sum
of ten cents for every violation of this rule,-with
the exception of Freddy, who is to pay five cents.-
Each, upon honor, agrees to this solemn compact."
He looked about, and all gravely nodded assent.
"All right," said Jasper. Then, to the familiar
strains of "Auld Acquaintance," without the
slightest hesitation he sang these lines, giving his
words the proper rhyme and rhythm almost un-
My gallant boys (or rather, girls),
Take now your oars and row;
For, if you don't, 't is very clear
This boat will never go."

Four young people, full of frolic, found it easy
to laugh at this, as well as at a number of similar
outbursts on the part of the others, equally ridiculous
if somewhat less elaborate. And the fun went on
for some minutes. Nevertheless, it must be con-
fessed that Miss Kitty's plan, promising as it had
seemed, did not turn out quite so well as she had
expected. Admirably adapted, as no doubt it
was, to a picnic party, where all sorts of people
would be constantly moved to say all sorts of
things, it was found not to work at all well
among four persons of about the same age, in an



open boat, where there was no especial necessity
for saying anything. Somehow or other, after a
little, the singing began to grow less funny, and
presently everybody appeared to have discovered
that it was easier to keep still than to express
one's self, and so a grim silence fell upon the boat.
Freddy played with the water alongside; the girls
bent to their oars; and Jasper attended to his
steering. And, bound as they were by their ab-
surd agreement, it is to be feared that the crew of
the gig would have had a dreary time of it for the
next two hours, but for an idea that suddenly
suggested itself to Jasper's fertile mind.
All at once the coxswain gave the helm a turn;
and then the boat's keel was heard grating softly
upon the sand. The others looked around in
surprise. The boat was close inshore, and the
next moment it brought up with a gentle bump
against the bank. A short distance away a rail-
road crossing could be seen, and, just beyond
it, a red house. Jasper rose to his feet, and sang:
"Now, what say you, my gallant crew,
To going with me ashore ?
Methinks 't would be a goodly thing
To tread the land once more."
"I 'm ready, for one," cried Freddy, jumping
ashore at once, painter in hand.
Ahem uttered Jasper loudly.
And Master Frederick, looking up, found a fin-
ger warningly pointed in his direction, and real-
ized that he had broken the rule. Jasper solemnly
took out his note-book and made an entry. Next
he leaped ashore himself and stood waiting to help
the girls, who, after a moment's hesitation, also
stepped ashore. Then, the boat being made fast
to a convenient post, they all started leisurely up
the bank.
They soon came to a road which led them
directly across the railroad and toward the red
house. This house was a small, one-story cottage,
very humble, but with the thrifty Cape Cod look,
having a bright garden in front and a neat walk,
bordered with curious shells, running down to the
gate. Jasper, catching sight of a well near the
side door, was about to make an excuse for turn-
ing in, when Kitty forestalled him.
Oh," sang she, her spirits already revived by
the change from sea to shore, Be it ever so
humble, I must have some water."
They went in, therefore, and Jasper was about
to let down the bucket, which worked by some
modern arrangement, when a woman came run-
ning out with a glass.
Here, here she cried shrilly. We don't
'low strangers to meddle with that well! I '11
draw it for you, if you please." And she put
Jasper one side, carefully letting down the bucket,

and then breathlessly drawing it up. You gave
me quite a turn, I declare she observed as she
handed Ethel the glass. "I thought you were
that sewin'-machine man when I first heard ye.
He said he sh'd come to-day."
She eyed them curiously. She was a spare,
energetic-looking woman, with a pinched face and
small bright eyes. She seemed rather puzzled
when no one spoke, though the two girls and
Freddy bowed their thanks profusely as they fin-
ished drinking. Her bewilderment may well have
grown to wonder as she beheld Jasper, with one
hand still extended after handing back the glass
and the other laid dramatically upon his heart, open
his mouth and begin to sing, to the air of 'Auld
Lang Syne," familiar in Cape Cod homes as every-
where else in the world,

Thanks,' said thejudge, 'a sweeter draught
A fairer hand ne'er quaffed--- "

The combined exigencies of the tune and the
effort to adapt the quotation to it, left the singer,
attitude and all, hanging, so to speak, at the
end of a high note; and the effect was supremely
ludicrous. Jasper's comrades could not restrain
their laughter.
The woman regarded him for an instant with a
look of amazement; but people on the Cape have
a way of keeping their feelings to themselves, and
she quickly recovered her self-possession.
"Humph!" said she, glancing keenly from
Jasper to the rest. "Where do you folks come
from, anyway?"
"'We came," Jasper answered, still true to
"Auld Acquaintance,"

We came, in yonder noble ship,
From lands beyond the sea;
And we've landed on this barren shore
To --to -see what we could see."

He broke a little on the last line and finished
rather lamely.
"Humph "the woman dryly repeated. "You've
come to a dangerous place, then. P'r'aps you
may not be aware that 't was only right down here
a bit that Cap'n Cook was killed."
Here Kitty, delighted to see her scheme dis-
playing at last some of the qualities she had
claimed for it, took it upon herself to answer,
clasping her hands in horror at the announcement
Alas, my good woman, how dreadful! And, pray,
What's the name of this barbarous land, did you say ? "

Her rhythm was not quite as smooth as Jasper's;
but she was true to her air, and the rhyme at the
end fairly surprised herself.




"Well," the woman answered seriously, "we
generally call it the Cape. Though they do say,"
she added, "that they 're trying' hard to make an
island of it, up to Sandwich." This was a refer-
ence, no doubt, to the famous Cape Cod Canal.
Then, still looking her visitors over and trying to
make them out, "Do they all sing their words,"
she inquired, in the country you come from?"
Kitty was about to reply again; but at this
instant a diversion occurred. Master Freddy,
moved to exploration on his own account, had
strayed away to the kitchen door, and, peeping
within it, his eye had fallen upon a huge dish, full
of freshly made crullers, resting upon the table.
Utterly ravished by the sight, he had given vent to
a prolonged "Oh !" and then, mindful of forfeits,
but quite compelled to utter himself, he, too,
began to sing, and the well worn notes of the
" Suwanee River rose rapturously to the breeze:

Oh, how I wi-i-i-i-isl-I
Ha- ad a cruller! "

"Sakes alive !" exclaimed the woman, looking
around. That reminds me. There're my crullers
all this time. I must run. Come in, wont ye?
Come in an' try 'em."
Ethel being the only one inclined to hold back,
and she being of a yielding nature, they all fol-
lowed the woman indoors, and were ushered pres-
ently into a little sitting-room next the kitchen.
It was a poorly furnished, but neat and pleasant
apartment, with snow-white curtains, worn hair-
cloth furniture, and a parlor organ, and with a
sewing machine in one corner. Freddy came
in after the rest, a huge ring of a cruller firmly
grasped in one hand, and another of more elon-
gated proportions thrust deeply down his throat.
The woman followed immediately with the dish,
and her cordially repeated invitation to "try
'em" was gladly accepted. Jasper possessed
himself of a magnificent specimen, and loudly
sang the praises of itself and donor, pleasing him-
self immensely by an ingenious combination of
"try 'em" and "fry 'em." Ethel glanced at him
reproachfully, feeling a pang of shame that he
should persist in his joking in the face of this
kindly hospitality. But Jasper was not to be
stopped at such a time. Nor did Kitty seem
disposed to be prudent. She was, as she herself
might have expressed it, gradually working up to
"concert pitch"; and she and Jasper, evidently,
were having a much better time with their sing-
ing than they had while they were in the boat.
Kitty also sought to celebrate in song the virtues
of the crullers, even venturing upon a little parody
wherein "sweet crullers" was substituted for

"sweet home," and "crumble" for "humble,"
which, absolutely nonsensical as it may have
been, caused Jasper to go off in fits of laughter
and clap his hand upon his knee and cry "capi-
tal!" in utter violation of his vow. And then
Freddy sang, too, and even Ethel sang; and
they all got to laughing harder and harder, with
that absurd, unreasonable laughter that laughs at
almost anything, and that the more it laughs, the
more it will laugh, until by and by it grows to be
quite uncontrollable. All of which, the writer is
aware, was exceedingly silly and ridiculous on the
part of these young people whom he has intro-
duced to the reader; but he begs the latter to
remember that they were only boys and girls after
all, and that they were really a little beside them-
selves that morning, and that, at any rate, no sin-
gle one of them meant a particle of real harm by
it. The only person who preserved her counte-
nance was their hostess. That problem of a woman
went in and out among them, never so much as
smiling at anything that was said or done, watch-
ing them closely with her small, sharp eyes, always
seeming to be "making them out," but letting no
sign of any conclusion to which she might have
come find its way into her face.
At length Ethel, thinking to quiet things,
glanced toward the organ and asked respectfully
(though to music, of course) if she might "try
the instrument."
"Oh replied the woman, following Edith's
glance, and with an odd, scared look coming into
her face as she did so, I could n't let ye touch
that, Miss; indeed, I could n't. Why, 't aint
mine, yet; an' I don't know now as 't ever will
be." Then she interrupted herself with an air
of deep chagrin. Why, you mean the mel-
odyun, don't ye ? I thought all the while you
meant the sewin'-machine. How stupid Seem 's
if I can't think o' anything' lately but that sew-
ing-machine. It 's nigh worritted my life out.
You see, I bought it last winter of an agent, an'
agreed to pay ten dollars a month for it till 't was
paid for. But, somehow or ruther, Silas has n't
earned anything' to speak of, sence he came back
from Georges Banks, an' things ha' gone hard;
an' now the time is up, an' there 's twenty-seven
dollars still due. I 've scraped up twenty, here
and there, but I 'm lackin' seven, yet. The man's
coming' to-day to take the machine, an' I 've got
to lose all I 've paid him. That was the bargain.
But,"-she hesitated and her thin lip quivered,-
"I vow it's too bad! An' I don't believe the
law would allow it."
At this instant, as it happened, a step and a
heavy rap were heard at the outer door. The
woman started.



There he is now she exclaimed. I know
his knock 's well 's I do the minister's or the doc-
tor's. 'Xcuse me a minute." And, with lips shut
tight, she left the room. Then the occupants of the
sitting-room heard a man's voice roughly explain-
ing that he could not take the machine to-day,
but that he should be along again to-morrow and
should certainly take it then if the money was not
ready. The woman seemed to have very little to say
in reply; and presently, having dismissed her un-
welcome caller, she came back into the sitting-room.
About that melodyun, Miss," she resumed at
once with an absent air; "you 'd be welcome
to play on it, but Salome 's gone over to Hyan-
nis for a visit, an' she accidentally took the key
off with her in her rettycule. Salome 's my
daughter," she added, with a touch of motherly
pride. She 's took lessons. If she was here,
she 'd play for ye "
What a mischievous spirit it was that prompted
Kitty to break forth, in accents as tenderly regret-
ful as any ever attained in the singing of Sweet
Home itself! -
"Salome! Salome!
Would that you were home! "

She wondered herself, the next moment, what
had possessed her, realizing that in thus turning
the absent daughter's name to ridicule, she was
doing a distinctly rude and unkind thing. She
started up, sincerely meaning to apologize. But
the woman had turned away, seeming not to have
noticed it; and Kitty sank back in her chair again.
The woman had noticed, however, and there
was a faint flush on her cheek and a resentful
glitter in her eye as she stood at the table, pre-
tending to look for something in her work-basket,
and for several moments speaking not a word.
Suddenly, with an air of decision, she turned and
walked straight out to the kitchen, going to a
back door that was there and opening it. Then
they heard her calling somebody in her shrill, far-
reaching voice:
"Silas! Si las! Silas!"
Silas whom all understood to be the woman's
husband must have been close at hand, for al-
most immediately a man's voice sounded without,
and then the two were heard talking together in
low tones inside the kitchen. The next moment
they appeared at the sitting-room door.
The woman, when they entered the room, was
preparing to throw a shawl about her shoulders.
But nobody, at that moment, thought very much
about her. Her visitors were too much struck by
the appearance of the remarkable individual who
attended her. He was a man of immense physi-
cal proportions, more than six feet high, and

correspondingly broad. His short, stubby hair
was of a dull red color, as were also the thick,
wiry whiskers that covered his face. His skin,
where it could be seen, was deeply burned. One
of his eyes was closed and sightless. He was
dressed in a big green baize jacket, oil trousers,
and "fish boots." In his hand he carried a short,
heavy clam hoe. Altogether he was a formidable-
looking person. The two girls uttered a little cry of
dismay when they saw him; Jasper himself looked
troubled, and Freddy fixed upon him a look of
fascinated horror. Freddy was thoroughly familiar
with the story of Polyphemus (Jasper had told it
to him many times), and his one thought now was
that that awful monster stood before him.
Silas," said the woman sharply, turning toward
him as she pinned her shawl, here 's some peo-
ple. I don't know who they air, nor where they
come from; but I do know that they 're stark,
starin' crazy, every one of 'em. They can't do
anything' but sing an' laugh. I 'm afraid of 'em;
an' I 'm goin' to run down to Squire Baker's an'
have him send up a constable, an' have 'em taken
care of. They ought to be put in the mad-house.
I want you to stay here an' keep guard over 'em
till I come back."
And with that, before Jasper and the rest had at
all grasped the meaning of her words or compre-
hended her intention, she was gone.
The giant, who was left behind, reached over to
draw to him a large rocking-chair that stood near
by and sat down before the door, not saying a
word. Freddy felt quite certain now that he was
Polyphemus- Polyphemus, with his terrible single
eye, sitting at the door of his cave and keeping
guard over Ulysses and his band. As for the rest,
they knew not what to do or say. What did it all
mean ? What strange people these they had come
among,-the woman who took them for lunatics,
and that grim creature at the door ? Could the
woman really have believed them crazy ? She had
said so. And her manner from the first, as they
now recalled it, suspicious and uneasy, seemed to
say so too. And, indeed, it was hardly to be won-
dered at, considering their absurd actions. What
then would come of it? Would the constable,
when he came, think they were crazy too ?-and
the magistrate ? Cape Cod people, they had always
heard, were queer people. The situation seemed
really serious. They looked at each other soberly,
not speaking yet, but all thinking some such
thoughts as these.
But Jasper, as the man of the party, felt that it
behooved him to do something at once. He got up
from his chair and advanced, with as determined a
bearing as he could assume, in the direction of
their keeper. Ethel turned pale.


x886.] THE CREW OF T.

"Oh, Jasper!" she murmured. "What are
you going to do ? Please don't go near him."
"No," Kitty whispered, equally alarmed; "pray
don't. Let us wait quietly till the constable comes.
It will be all right then." No one of them thought
any longer of maintaining their agreement as to
singing, which, indeed, had been quite driven out
of their minds.
Pooh answered Jasper with lofty valor,
" I 'm only going to request our monumental
friend here to move one side a little so that we can
pass out. It 's time we were going." Then, as


the person alluded to paid no attention, he ad-
dressed him directly. If you please, my friend,
we 'd like to pass out."
The other shook his head,-calmly and quietly
enough. It was not anything the man did, nor
indeed anything he said, when he came to speak,
that was so terrible, after all; it was simply his
forbidding face and his gigantic figure.
I 'm very sorry," said he in a voice so deep
and sepulchral one might well have fancied it was
supplied to him somehow from the cellar below,



" very sorry indeed. But the fact is ye can't be
allowed to go,-not till Malviny comes back."
Look here, now," observed Jasper, straighten-
ing up and trying to look terrible himself.
"Wall, I 'm looking' here." The man calmly
regarded him with his single eye.
"Do you know who we are ? Jasper continued.
The giant shook his head again. Hev n't the
slightest idee. Could n't no more say who ye air 'n
I could say who 'll be keeping' Highland Light in
the year nineteen hundred'n eighty-six. Malviny
says ye 're a passel o' crazytics, an' that 's all I
want to know about ye.
I never go behind what
S Malviny says. She '11
.. be back with the cun-
stable presently, an'
I they '11 settle your case.
Meanwhile, here you'll
S hev to stay till they
s. He leaned back in
his chair and began
rocking to and fro, rest-
ll ing his clam hoe across
his knees.
"But see here," per-
sisted Jasper; that
is all nonsense, you
know, about our being
crazy. We- "
"Hi! hi inter-
.''' rupted the giant, stop-
pinghischair. "What's
that ye say? Be keer-
ful, young man. Be
keerful! He lifted his
-onderous fore-finger
and slowly waved it
back and forth with an
air of solemn warning.
S "Don't you venture' fur
to dare fur to assertify
that anything Malviny
.CK, SAID THE WOMAN." says is nonsense! She
allus knows what she's
talking' about. If she says you 're crazy, crazy
you be,-an' ye can't help yourselves."
But I say- poor Jasper once again began.
Now, be keerful, young man. Be keerful!"
The awful finger again cleft the air.
"Oh cried Jasper, stamping his foot in im-
potent rage. This is intolerable! You've not
a particle of right to keep us here. Move one
side, I say, and let us pass."
He advanced a step and threateningly con-
fronted his enemy.


But the latter remained perfectly unmoved, save
that again he gravely shook his head.
"Not till Malviny comes," was his imperturba-
ble answer. "Not till Malviny comes."
And Jasper, brave as any lad, but well aware
in his heart that he would no more think of
actually attacking that gigantic adversary than of
throwing himself upon an advancing locomotive,
yielded to the renewed entreaties of Ethel and
Kitty, and sullenly returned to his seat.
Then for many minutes-just how many, no one
knew-there was perfect silence in the house,- or
silence the perfection of which was only marred
by the ticking of the little Waterbury clock on the
kitchen mantel. The prisoners sat there in a
dazed, despairing sort of mood, their eyes most of
the time bent upon the floor, content to wait with-
out further motion the issue of events.
All at once, from the watcher's direction, there
came a sound, loud, clear, sonorous, unmistakable
- the sound of a human snore. They all looked up
surprised, and a single glance at the mammoth form
in the doorway assured them of the fact which the
sound had intimated. Their keeper slept.
Jasper, with a swift gesture of caution to his
comrades, sat and watched the sleeper for a mo-
ment, to be sure that it was so; then he rose to
his feet. The time for action had undoubtedly
arrived. He glanced about the room, marking
its ways of egress. The windows were open, but
not far enough, and it would not do to risk the
noise of opening them farther. There were four
doors in the room, besides that leading to the
kitchen, all closed. Jasper passed three of these
by as admitting without doubt to bedrooms or
cupboards, and turned to the fourth. This opened,
as he had expected, into a little front hall; and
there, right at hand, was the outer door. Jasper's
heart sank as he saw that the key was gone; but
he tried the door, and lo to his surprise, it was
not locked at all. Here then was freedom at last,
in their very grasp Come Come he whis-
pered, beckoning eagerly to his companions. And
then, like a captain who must be last to quit the
wreck, he stood holding open the door for the
others to pass through.
Freddy came first, painfully tiptoeing his way,
and scarcely able even now to remove his glance
from the fearful being across the room. Then
Kitty glided out and Ethel followed, and the three
stood safely outside. Jasper lingered a moment,
latch in hand, glancing back at the grim sentinel
in the rocking-chair. The man still sat there, his
head thrown back and his dreadful eye fast closed,
wrapped apparently in profoundest slumber. Jas-
per felt all his old assurance coming back. He
kissed his hand to the sleeper.

"Good-bye, my dear guardian, good-bye !" he
cried, half aloud.
"' My boat is on the shore, and my bark is on the sea;
But before I go, once more I must say farewell to thee.' "

But what meant that movement on the part of
the sleeper? Jasper stared. The huge frame was
certainly shaking in its chair. Could it be that
the man was laughing in his sleep? The lad
did not stop to ponder the question, but closed
the door behind him and hurried after the rest.
At the crossing, they came suddenly upon Mrs.
Malviny. Jasper made her a bow.
May I ask," he inquired, if you saw Squire
Baker ? "
Yes," answered she gloomily; I saw him.
He says it 's no use. Unless I pay the money, the
man can take the machine. I can't-But sho!
There I am again. You mean did I see him
about the constable ? Well, no; I did n't." She
looked at them now with a humorous twinkle in
her eye. "The fact is, that was one o' my jokes.
You seemed to be havin' a good deal o' fun at my
expense, up to the house, an' so I thought I'd have
a little at yours. I hope ye did n't have any
trouble with Silas. He 's the best-natered man in
the world,- would n't harm a toad-fish. If he
would, I'd set him after that sewin'-machine man!
There 's Silas at the front gate now! What's he
laughing' at, I wonder ? Well, good-day! If any-
body in your country asks after us Cape folks,
you tell 'em we aint all fools down here. We
don't live on fish for nothing. "
"Well!" uttered Jasper, gazing after her a
moment with an air of profound admiration, and
then looking down at himself in equally deep dis-
gust. If we have n't been most beautifully and
artistically circumvented this time, I should like to
know the reason why! I feel as cheap as an
eighty-cent dollar."
"We certainly have had a good fright!" de-
clared Kitty.
It seems to me," observed Ethel seriously,
"that this ought to be a lesson to us not to turn
everything and everybody to ridicule quite so freely
in the future."
"Yes," cried Freddy. And how about all
that money you three will have to pay for talking
all this while, instead of singing? "
Sure enough said Kitty.
I '11 tell you what we '11 do," suggested Ethel.
" We will let ourselves off, once for all, for seven
dollars; and we '11 make up that sum and send
it to Mrs. Malviny to complete the twenty-seven
dollars she owes her sewing-machine man."
Done shouted Jasper with enthusiasm.
And done it was, that very night.






'b. II'

O r -l rI ,.- :h r.:..-.r i. I r i r.: .-i i
a n im ., l : i i r |pli .: ilil|.: '. [lili.. !" i 2 'il- .: t i.: ;ll'l i ; :[ il .'l'
times do service for man, none is sharper or more
vindictive than the weasel-a bright-eyed little
beast, with a coat of golden-brown fur and a clean
white shirt-front. It somewhat resembles the rat,
and also the squirrel; but it is, really, the deadly
enemy of both.
And of all the hateful reptiles that crawl and coil
and sting, there are few more venomous and hateful
than is the little olive-brown snake known as the
adder-a rattlesnake without rattles, and the un-
tiring foe to mice and birds and moles, thus also
occasionally proving of service to man.
Both the weasel, which belongs to the family
known as the mustelidre, or mouse-eaters, and the

as you see, agreed upon one thing-alik-
ing for mice for dinner. And they are just as
heartily united upon another subject- their ha-
tred of each other.
So when, as in the above picture, weasel and
adder meet in the way, there is certain to be a
duel to the death.
The weasel is a spry and fiery-tempered little
animal; the adder is treacherous and equally hot-
headed. And although, as the rule, the weasel is
worsted in such encounters, sometimes the coils
of the adder squirm and droop and stiffen as,
with one quick snap, the sharp teeth of the weasel
seize and break the mottled neck of the snake.



[.n Historical BiograEhy.]




IT was on April 16, 1789, that Washington
left Mount Vernon for New York, where Con-
gress first met, and where he was to be inaugurated
President. The country all along the route was
eager to see him, and at every place through which
he passed there were processions and triumphal
arches and ringing of bells. Some of the signs
of welcome were queer, and some were beautiful
and touching. When he crossed the Schuylkill,
there was a series of arches under which he was to
ride; and when he came to the first one, a laurel
wreath was let down upon his head. The people
who arranged that exhibition must have been very
anxious as to how it would turn out. At Trenton,
where everybody remembered the famous battle
he had fought, the women had put up a great
triumphal arch resting upon thirteen columns,
with a great dome crowned by a sunflower; then,
as he rode through, he came upon a company of
women and girls who came toward him, strewing
flowers and singing. When he reached New York,
guns were fired; and a vast crowd of people, headed
by the Governor, was waiting to receive him.
Congress had begun its sessions at Federal Hall,
which stood where the present Treasury building
stands in Wall street. The day set for the inaugu-
ration was April 30. Precisely at noon, the pro-
cession moved from the house where Washington
was lodged, through what is now Pearl street and
Broad street, to the Hall. Washington entered
the Senate Chamber, where John Adams, who was
Vice-President and therefore presiding over the
Senate, received him in the presence of the Senate
and House, and then escorted him to a balcony at
the front of the Hall. A crimson-covered table
stood on it, holding a large Bible. Below, Broad
street and Wall street were packed with people,
as were also the windows and the roofs of the
houses near by. They set up a great shout as
Washington appeared. He came to the front,
laid his hand on his heart, and bowed to the people.
The multitude could see the commanding fig-
ure of the great general as he stood bare-headed
on the balcony. He was dressed in a suit of
brown cloth, of American manufacture, with knee-

breeches and white silk stockings and silver shoe-
buckles. His hair was dressed and powdered, as
was the custom then. They saw near him John
Adams and Robert R. Livingston, the Chancellor
of the State of New York, and distinguished men-
generals and others; but their eyes were bent on
Washington. They saw Chancellor Livingston
stand as if speaking to him, and the Secretary of
the Senate holding the open Bible on which Wash-
ington's hand lay. Those nearest could hear the
Chancellor pronounce the oath of office and Wash-
ington's reply, "I swear-so help me, God!" and
could see him bow and kiss the Bible.
Then the Chancellor stepped forward, waved
his hand, and said aloud: Long live George
Washington, President of the United States." At
the same time, a flag, as a signal, was run up on the
cupola of the Hall. Instantly cannon were fired,
bells rung, and the people shouted. Washington
saluted them, and then turned back into the
Senate chamber, where he read his inaugural ad-
dress, in a low voice, for he was evidently deeply af-
fected,-great occasions always solemnized him,-
and after the address, he went on foot, with many
others, to St. Paul's Church, where prayers were
read by Dr. Provoost, Bishop of the Episcopal
Church, and one of the chaplains of Congress.
At night, there were fireworks and bonfires.
Thus, with the good-will of the people and the
confidence of all the sections, -however suspicious
they might be of one another,-Washington began
his career as President. For eight years, he re-
mained in office. His character was now so fixed
that there is little new to be learned about it
from that time forward; but there were many
events that made more clear how wise, how just,
how honorable and how faithful to his trust he
was. He had been very loath to take upon him-
self the duties of President, but when once he had
been placed in the chair, he let nothing stand in
the way of the most thorough discharge of his
Now came into play all those habits which he
had been forming from boyhood. As President
of the whole people, it was his business to have an
oversight of all the interests of the young nation,
and, as the first President, he had the opportunity
of setting an example to those who were to come
after him. It is one of the most excellent gifts to




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the American people that they should have had
for their first President a man so well rounded
and so magnanimous as George Washington.
There were as yet no political parties, though
there were the seeds of parties in the opposite
ways in which public men regarded the new Con-
stitution. Washington called to his cabinet men
who disliked one another and who were really as

much opposed to one another as if they belonged
to antagonistic parties; but they never could
draw Washington away from a strict impartiality.
He made Thomas Jefferson Secretary of State,
because he was most thoroughly acquainted with
foreign affairs; and he made Alexander Hamilton
Secretary of the Treasury, because he had shown
himself the most competent man to plan a way




out of the greatest peril which beset the young
nation. But Jefferson and Hamilton cordially
disliked each other, and were decidedly of opposite
ways of thinking.
Washington, however, did not rest contented
with choosing the best men to carry on the Gov-
ernment. In those days, when the country had
only a small population, a small area, and a small
business, it was possible for one man to know very
much more fully the details of government than it
is now. His lifelong habits of methodical indus-
try enabled Washington to get through an amount
of work which seems extraordinary. For example,
he read from beginning to end all the letters which
had passed between Congress and foreign govern-
ments since the treaty of peace in 1783, making
abstracts and briefs of them, so as to know thor-
oughly the whole history of the relations of the
country to foreign governments. He required
from every head of department whom he found in
office, a report of the state of public business. He
treated these reports as he had the foreign cor-
respondence, and in this way he mastered all the
internal affairs of the nation. The result was that
he had his own judgment about any matter of
importance which came up, and was not obliged
to follow the lead of the cabinet officers.
There were, of course, only a few public offices
to be filled then, and it was quite possible for
Washington to know personally most of the men
who should be appointed to fill them. He thought
this one of the most important parts of his work as
President; because he knew well that it is not
rules and regulations, but men, that carry on
any government or any business, and that, if he
could put honest and capable men, who were un-
selfishly devoted to the country, into all the offices,
he would secure a wise administration of the laws.
From the first, he began to be besieged by ap-
plicants for office, and he made immediately the
very sensible rule that he would not give any
pledge or encouragement to any applicant. He
heard what they and their friends had to say, and
then made up his mind deliberately. He had,
however, certain principles in his mind which gov-
erned him in making appointments, and they were
so high and honorable, and show so well the char-
acter of the man, that I copy here what he said
with regard to the matter:
Scarcely a day passes in which applications ot one kind or an-
other do not arrive; insomuch that, had I not early adopted some
general principles, I should before this time have been wholly occu-
pied in this business. Asit is, I have found the number of answers,
which I have been necessitated to give in my own hand, an almost
insupportable burden to me. The points in which all these answers
have agreed in substance are, that, should it be my lot to go again into
public office, I would go without being under any possible engage-
ments of any nature whatsoever; that, so far as I knew my own
heart, I would not be in the remotest degree influenced in making

nominations by motives arising from the ties of family or blood; and
that, on the other hand, three things, in my opinion, ought princi-
pally to be regarded, namely: the fitness of characters to fill offices,
the comparative claims from the former merits and sufferings in ser-
vice of the different candidates, and the distribution of appointments
in as equal a proportion as might be to persons belonging to the dif-
ferent States in the Union. Without precautions of this kind, I
clearly foresaw the endless jealousies and possibly the fatal conse-
quences to which a government, depending altogether on the
good-will of the people for its establishment, would certainly be ex-
posed in its early stages. Besides, I thought, whatever the effect
might be in pleasing or displeasing any individuals at the present
moment, a due concern for my own reputation, not less decisively
than a sacred regard to theinterests of the community, required that
I should hold myself absolutely at liberty to act, while in office, with
a sole reference to justice and the public good."

To protect himself from being at everybody's
call, and so unable to be of the greatest service,
he established certain rules. Every Tuesday, be-
tween the hours of three and four, he received
whoever might come. Every Friday afternoon
Mrs. Washington received with him. At all other
times, he could be seen only by special appoint-
ment. He never accepted invitations to dinner,
and that has been the rule of Presidents ever
since; but he constantly invited to his own table
foreign ministers, members of the Government,
and other guests. He received no visits on Sun-
day. He went to church with his family in the
morning, and spent the afternoon by himself.
The evening he spent with his family, and some-
times had with him an intimate friend.
He still kept up his old habit of rising at four
and going to bed at nine. Mrs. Washington had
a grave little formula with which she used to dis-
miss visitors in the evening:
The General always retires at nine o'clock,
and I usually precede him."
His recreation he took chiefly in driving and
riding. He never lost his liking for a good horse,
and he knew what a good horse was. He had a
servant who had been General Braddock's servant,
and had been with Washington ever since the bat-
tle of the Monongahela. Bishop, as he was named,
was a terrible disciplinarian, and devoted to his
master's interests. At sunrise every day, he would
go to the stables, where the boys had been at
work since dawn grooming the General's horses.
Woe to them if they had been careless Bishop
marched in with a muslin handkerchief in his
hand and passed it over the coats of the horses;
if a single stain appeared on the muslin, the boy
who groomed the horse had to take a thrashing.
It was no light matter to groom a horse in those
days, for, just as the heads of gentlemen were
plastered and bewigged, so the horses were made
to undergo what would seem to us now a rather
absurd practice. The night before a horse was
to be ridden, he was covered from head to
foot with a paste made of whiting and other



ingredients; then he was well wrapped in cloth and
laid to sleep on clean straw. By the next morning
the paste had hardened, and it was then vigorously
rubbed in, and the horse curried and brushed. The
result was a glossy and satiny coat. The hoofs
were blackened and polished, the mouth washed,
the teeth picked and cleaned, and the horse was
then ready to be saddled and brought out.
Mrs. Washington was a domestic, home-loving
body, but a lady of great dignity and sweetness
of disposition, who moved serenely by the side of
her husband, receiving his guests in the same spirit.
She never talked about politics, but was evenly
courteous to every one. She was like her husband,
too, in her exactness and her attention to little de-
tails of economy. While she was in the midst of her
duties as President's wife, she wrote to one of her
family: "I live a very dull life here, and know
nothing that passes in the town. I never go to
any public place, indeed, I think I am more like
a state prisoner than anything else. There are
certain bounds set for me which I must not depart
from; and, as I can not do as I like, I am obsti-
nate and stay at home a great deal." But her
real heart was at Mount Vernon and in her house-
hold affairs. I send to dear Maria," she writes,
" a piece of chene to make her a frock, and a piece
of muslin, which I hope is long enough for an
apron for you. In exchange for it, I beg you will
give me a worked muslin apron you have, like
my gown that I made just before I left home, of
worked muslin, as I wish to make a petticoat to
my gown, of the two aprons."
Washington himself never lost sight of Mount
Vernon. Just as in his absence, during the war,
he required weekly reports from the manager of
his plantation, so now he kept up the same practice.
Occasionally, when Congress was not in session,
he could go home, but his visits were short and
rare. It may seem strange to some that a soldier
and a statesman like Washington should be also
an ardent farmer; but that he was. I suppose the
one occupation that Washington loved was farm-
ing; in his earlier life there is no doubt that he
cared most for a soldier's fortune, but after he was
fairly in possession of Mount Vernon, the care of
that place became his passion, and for the rest
of his life he was first and last a farmer. For my
part, I like to think of Washington in this way,
for the one indispensable art is the art of agricult-
ure; all other arts are built upon it, and the man
who has a piece of land, and can raise from it
enough to feed and clothe and shelter himself and
his family, is the most independent of men, and
has a real place on the earth which he can call
his own.
During his presidency, Washington made two

tours through the country,-one into the Eastern
and one into the Southern States. He was re-
ceived with special honor in New England, for
he was less familiarly known to the people there,
and they made a great holiday in every town
through which the President passed. By these
tours, he made himself acquainted with the needs
of the country and with the persons who were the
leaders of the people.
But there were parts which he could not visit,
yet in which he felt the deepest interest and
concern. We have seen how, from time to time,
he visited the country beyond the Alleghanies,
and how much importance he attached to the set-
tlement of the West. The greatest difficulty in the
early days was through the relations which the
people had with the Indians. Washington knew
the Indians well; he knew how to get along with
them, and he knew also what dangerous enemies
they were. At the end of his first term as Presi-
dent, it became necessary to send a military expe-
dition to the frontiers, and General St. Clair was
placed at the head of it. When he came to bid
Washington good-bye, his old chief gave him a
solemn warning: "You have your instructions
from the Secretary of War. I had a strict eye to
them, and will add but one word: Beware of a
surprise You know how the Indians fight. I
repeat it-beware of a surprise "
But St. Clair was surprised and terribly defeated.
It was a bitter disappointment to Washington, who
received the news of the disaster one December
day when he was at dinner. His private secretary,
Mr. Lear, was called out of the room by a servant,
who said there was a messenger without who in-
sisted on seeing the President. Mr. Lear went to
him and found that he was an officer from St. Clair's
army with dispatches which he refused to give
to any one but President Washington. Mr. Lear
went back to the dining-room and whispered this
to Washington, who excused himself to the com-
pany and went out to hear the officer's news. He
came back shortly after and resumed his place at
the table, but without explaining the reason of his
absence. He was, however, absorbed, as he often
was, and muttered to himself; and one of his
neighbors caught the words, I knew it would
be so !"
It was the evening when Mrs. Washington held
her reception, and the gentlemen, when leaving
the dining-room, went directly into the drawing-
room. Washington went with them. He was
calm and showed no signs of disturbance. He
spoke as usual to every one, and at last the guests
had gone. Mrs. Washington also left, and the
General was left alone with his secretary. He was
silent at first, walking. to and fro in the room.



Then he took a seat by the fire, and motioned Mr.
Lear to sit by him. He could no longer contain
himself; he must have some relief, and suddenly
he burst out: "It's all over! St. Clair's de-
feated routed The officers nearly all killed; the
men by wholesale; the rout complete-too shock-
ing to think of, and a surprise into the bargain "
He jerked out the sentences as if he were in pain.
He got up and walked up and down again like a

tomahawked, by a surprise-the very thing I
guarded him against!"-and the strong man
threw up his hands while he shook with terrible
emotion: "He's worse than a murderer How
can he answer for it to his country The blood of
the slain is upon him--the curse of widows and
orphans -the curse of Heaven "
Mr. Lear was dumb. He had never seen or
heard Washington like this. It was a pent-up
volcano bursting forth.
Washington himself
recovered his control.
He sat down again.
-.He was silent. He
'-.--- felt, as a strong man
'- does who has for a
"'' : moment broken the
S- bounds of restraint, a


.-. "- -;.1

- '^ -
-:" :-3'k'


caged lion, stood still, and once more burst out in
passionate speech: "Yes, here, on this very spot I
took leave of him; I wished him success and honor.
' You have your instructions from the Secretary of
War,' said I, I bad a strict eye to them, and will
add but one word: BEWARE OF A SURPRISE You
know how the Indians fight; I refcat it-BEWARE
OF A SURPRISE !' He went off with that, my last
warning, thrown into his ears. And yet!--To
suffer that army to be cut to pieces, butchered,
VOL. XIII.-58.

noble shame, not at
his indignation, but at
having for a moment
thus given way. "This
must not go beyond
this room," he said
presently, in a quiet,
Then he added, after
a pause: "General St.
Clair shall have just-
ice. I looked hastily
through the dispatch-
es; saw the whole dis-
aster, but not all the
particulars. I will re-
ceive him without dis-
pleasure; I will hear
him without prejudice;
he shall have full just-
Washington kept
his word. Perhaps all
the more for this out-
break, he determined
that St. Clair should
be treated with scru-
pulousjustice. Butthe
incident illustrates the

character of Washington. Deep down in his nat-
ure was a passionate regard for law, for obedience,
for strict accountability. It was this which made
him in minor matters so punctual, so orderly, so
precise in his accounts; in larger matters, it made
him unselfishly and wholly consecrated to the coun-
try which trusted him, just in all his dealings, and
the soul of honor. This consuming passion for law
made him govern himself, keep in restraint the
fierce wrath which leaped up within him, and meas-


ure his acts and words with an iron will. The two
notable scenes when his anger blazed out and
burned up his self-control as if it were a casing of
straw, were caused by Lee's faithlessness at Mon-
mouth and St.'Clair's carelessness. On each of
these occasions, it was not an offense against him-
self which woke his terrible wrath, it was an offense
against the country, against God; for in the mo-
ment of his anger he saw each of these two men
false to the trust reposed in him.
Yet the difficulties with the Indians were as
nothing to the perils which beset the country in its
intercourse with Europe. At that time, the Uni-
ted States was almost a part of Europe. All its
business was with France and England. It had
declared and achieved political independence, but
was nevertheless connected by a thousand ties of
commerce, law, and custom with the Old World.
The fierce revolution in France was in part set in
flame by the example of America; and when war
broke out between England and France, there was
scarcely a man in America who did not take sides
in his mind with one country or the other. There
was the greatest possible danger that the country
would be drawn into the quarrels of Europe.
In the midst of all these commotions, when the
very members of his cabinet were acting and
speaking as if they were the servants either of
England or of France, Washington maintained
his impartiality, and saw to it that the United
States was kept out of European disputes. What
was the result ? He saved the country from fearful
disaster; for he was like the pilot that conducts
the ship through rapids and past dangerous reefs.
But he himself suffered incredible contumely and
reviling from the hot-headed partisans who were
ready to plunge the country into the dispute. If
ever a nation," said one newspaper, was de-
bauched by a man, the American nation has been
debauched by Washington. If ever a nation was
deceived by a man, the American nation has been
deceived by Washington. Let his conduct, then,
be an example to future ages; let it serve to be a
warning that no man may be an idol; let the his-
tory of the Federal Government instruct mankind
that the mask of patriotism may be worn to con-
ceal the foulest designs against the liberties of the
people." That is the way some people wrote
about Washington when he was President.



WHEN Washington had completed his two
terms of office, he was unalterably fixed in his
resolution to go back to private life. The reasons

which had induced him to accept the presidency
against his inclination were no longer forcible. The
government was established. The country was on
the road to prosperity. No one man any longer
had it in his power greatly to help or greatly to
hurt the people. Moreover he was weary of pub-
lic life. He was tired of standing up and being
pelted with mud by all sorts of obscure people; of
having his motives misconstrued; of listening to
the endless bickerings of public men about him.
For more than twenty years he had really been
at the head of the nation. Now he meant to go
back to his farm; but before he went, he had it in
him to say one word to his countrymen.
That Washington should write his famous
"Farewell Address to the People of the United
States," indicates how accurately he understood
his position. He was a great man, a splendid
figure in history, and he knew it. But he was too
great to be vain of his distinction. He was not
too great to use even his distinction for the benefit
of his country. He knew perfectly well that any
speech which he might make when he retired
from office would be listened to as almost no other
political paper was ever listened to by a people,
and he determined to gather into his Farewell
Address the weightiest judgment which he could
pronounce, as summing up the result of his long
study and observation of public affairs. He wrote,
of course, with a special eye to the needs of the
people who were immediately to hear and read
the address. They had dangers about them which
have since largely disappeared; for example,
we do not especially need to-day the caution
which the men of that day needed when Wash-
ington wrote: "A passionate attachment of one
nation for another produces a variety of evils."
Nevertheless, the address is so full of sound
political wisdom, that I wish it might be read in
every public school in the land on the 22d day
of February. In it, the large-minded Washington
speaks, thinking of the whole country, and pour-
ing into his words the ripe and full judgment of a
man whose one thought in his life had been to
serve his country faithfully.
The observance of Washington's birthday began
in a quiet way during Washington's lifetime. As
early as 1783, when the war was over, but before
the treaty of peace was signed, some gentlemen
met together to celebrate it, and during his presi-
dency, the day was observed by members of Con-
gress and others who paid their respects to him,
and the observance of the day became more and
more general, especially after Washington's death.
The day before he was to leave office, Wash-
ington gave a farewell dinner to the Foreign Minis-
ters and their wives, and eminent public men,



including the new President, John Adams. The
company was in excellent spirits, until Washing-
ton raised his glass to wish them all good health,
after the fashion of those days. He smiled and
said: Ladies and gentlemen, this is the last time
I shall drink your health as a public man; I do it
with sincerity, wishing you all possible happiness."
Perhaps he was thinking at the moment of his
own happiness in going back to private life; but it
suddenly rushed over the minds of those present
what such a toast meant, and all mirth was gone.
The next day he attended the ceremonies of the
inauguration of John Adams. As he moved toward
the door to retire, there was a rush of the people
toward him. They cheered and cheered as he
passed into the street. He answered, smiling and
waving his hat, his gray hairs blown by the wind.
The people followed him to the door of his house.
He turned, as he entered, and looked on them.
Now it was his turn to feel the pain of parting.
After all, he was going away from those busy haunts
where he was sure to see men who honored and
loved him. Tears stood in his eyes; his face was
pale and grave; he raised his hand, but he could
not trust himself to speak.

He was once more at Mount Vernon, in the
quiet of his home, and again the days went by in
that regular routine which suited him. Here is a
letter which he wrote to James McHenry, the
Secretary of War:
"I am indebted to you for several unacknowledged letters;
but never mind that; go on as if you had answers. You are
at the source of information, and can find many things to relate;
while I have nothing to say that could either inform or amuse a
Secretary of War in Philadelphia. I might tell him that I begin my
diurnal course with the sun; that, if my hirelings are not in their
places at that time I send them messages of sorrow for their indispo-
sition; that, having put these wheels in motion, I examine the state
of things further; that, the more they are probed, the deeper I find
the wounds which my buildings have sustained by an absence and
neglect of eight years; that, by the time I have accomplished these
matters, breakfast (a little after seven o'clock, about the time, I pre-
sume, you are taking leave of Mrs. McHenry) is ready; that, this
being over, I mount my horse and ride round my farms, which em-
ploys me until it is time to dress for dinner, at which I rarely miss
seeing strange faces, come, as they say, out of respect for me. Pray,
would not the word curiosity answer as well? And how different
this from having a few social friends at a cheerful board The usual
time of sitting at table, a walk, and tea, bring me within the dawn
of candle light; previous to which, if not prevented by company, I
resolve, that, as soon as the glimmering taper supplies the place of
the great luminary, I will retire to my writing-table and acknowl-
edge the letters I have received; but when the lights are brought,
I feel tired and disinclined to engage in this work, conceiving that
the next night will do as well. The next night comes, and with it
the same causes for postponement, and so on. This will account for
your letter remaining so long unacknowledged; and, having given
you the history of a day, it will serve for a year, and I am persuaded
you will not require a second edition of it. But it may strike you,
that in this detail no mention is made of any portion of time allotted
for reading. The remark would be just, for I have not looked into
a book since I came home; nor shall I be able to do it until I have

discharged my workmen, probably not before the nights grow longer,
when possibly I may be looking in Doomsday Book. At present I
shall only add, that I am always and affectionately yours.

But the time came when a letter to the Secre-
tary of War was not a piece ofpleasantry. There
was imminent danger of war with France; Con-
gress issued an order to raise an army, and Presi-
dent John Adams immediately nominated George
Washington as Commander-in-Chief. The Senate
promptly confirmed the nomination, and Washing-
ton accepted on two conditions: that the principal
officers should be such as he approved, and that
he should not be called into the field till the army
required his presence. He did not think there
would be war, but he believed the best way to
prevent it was to show that the people were ready
for it.
It was in March, 1797, that Washington left Phil-
adelphia for Mount Vernon; in July, 1798, he was
appointed Commander-in-Chief. He conducted
most of his business by letter, though he spent a
month in Philadelphia. He took up again the
burden he had laid down, quietly, readily, since it
was necessary, and without complaint; but he had
not very long to bear it.
On December 12, 1799, he had been riding over
his farms as usual, but a rain and sleet storm
came up, and he returned to the house chilled
through by the exposure. The next day was still
stormy, and he kept indoors; but he had taken
cold and suffered from a sore throat. He passed
the evening with his family, however, read the
papers and talked cheerfully. In the night he had
an attack of ague, and on the next morning, which
was Saturday the 14th, he breathed with difficulty,
and messengers were sent for one doctor after an-
other. He suffered acutely, but did not complain.
Toward evening he said to Dr. Craik: I die hard,
but I am not afraid to die. I believed from my first
attack that I should not survive it. My breath can
not last long." He said little more, only thanked
his attendants for their kindness, and bade them
give themselves no further trouble,-simply to let
him die in quietness. Between ten and eleven
o'clock that night he died.
Chief-Justice Marshall, when the news reached
Congress, said a few simple words in the House
of Representatives, and asked that a committee
be appointed in conjunction with a committee
of the Senate "to consider on the most suit-
able manner of paying honor to the memory of
the man, first in war, first in feace, andfirst in the
hearts of his fellow-citizens "; but no manner has
been found more suitable than the study of that
life which is the most priceless gift to America.






ONE morning last March there appeared in
the New York newspapers an advertisement of a
"Children's Industrial Exhibition." At first many
persons could not imagine what it could be.
But when the doors were opened and the reporters
went to look at the exhibition, the newspapers
began to tell of the many curious things to be
seen in the hall. No such exhibition had ever
been seen in New York, and then people began to
wonder why one had not been held before. Now
the true way to understand a thing is to look at it
again and again. It so happened that I went to this
exhibition several times, and that a ST. NICHOLAS
artist went too, and so perhaps we can together give
you an idea of the principal things that were on
view at that curious show.
The exhibition was held in a large and hand-
some hall, and was arranged just like any grand
fair intended to exhibit the artistic or mechanical
achievements of men and women. There was

only this difference: the objects to be seen were
all made by little women and very youthful men.
There were medals to be given for the best work,
and there was a catalogue, and there were officials
to explain everything to the visitors. Were there
sums on slates, compositions, exercises or exam-
ples of penmanship? No. Better than these-
very much better there were real things made by
boys and girls with their own hands, and, best of
all, things made in school.
On entering the hall, however, the first objects
to attract attention were those made by boys at
home and out of school. These objects were
arranged on tables by themselves, some of the work
being by children in New York, and some by
young folk in Yonkers. There were wood-carv-
ings, hammered brasswork, drawings and designs,
embroidery, and hundreds of curious things either
useful or merely ornamental; models of boats,
houses, shops, forts, and even a carousel with






woolly elephants that career madly around the
ring whenever the clockwork is wound up. Some
of the things were well made, but many were
very poorly done, which shows that we must go to
school to learn to make boats as well as to learn to
do sums in long division. The work of the girls
showed more training than that of the boys, and
the sewing was very good,-some of the artistic
sewing being worthy of high praise.
Speaking of sewing, our old ST. NICHOLAS
friends, the kitchen-garden and the cooking-gar-
den, were wonderfully displayed with full examples
and models, and even a tea-table set in proper
order precisely as arranged by the little housekeep-
ers. The exhibit was well worth looking at, and
there was always a crowd around the table, but for
us it was chiefly interesting because there the noble
art of sewing was demonstrated precisely as if it
were a lesson in geography.
The true way to study about islands and capes
and all the other divisions of land and water is
to have some sand and water in a box, and then
to build up the sand into miniature islands and
capes, just like the real things out-of-doors. When
I went to school, all the boys could say, "An
island is a portion of land entirely surrounded by
water," and yet not a boy in the class knew that he
lived on an island. So it is with sewing. The girls
I knew years ago cried so hard over the long,

sons, like a needle-work kindergarten. And as we
crossed the exhibition-hall, we saw another method.
There on a long table were hundreds of garments
and parts of garments made by the public-school
girls of Philadelphia. There, in a frame, were all
the lessons arranged in regular order, showing
every step -hemming, over-seaming, back-stitch-
ing and running, reversible seam, felling, gather-
ing, darning, and mending, up to the fine art of
button-hole making. The girls are from eight to
fifteen years of age, and that work they did in
school, while attending to their regular school les-
sons. We passed on to the tables where the work
of school-girls of Boston and New Haven and Ho-
boken was shown; and in every instance, we saw
regular, graded lessons in needle-work, from the
plainest hemming up to the finest embroidery.
New York girls, too, in the schools of the Chil-
dren's Aid Society, in mission and church schools,
showed by their samples that they also were stu-
dents of stitchery. I saw one piece of sewing that
seemed truly wonderful. It was in a glass case, and
it was the "graduation exercises" of a young girl,
fourteen years of age, on leaving Frliulein Calm's
school in Cassel, Germany. It consisted of half a
yard of muslin ornamented with every kind of sew-
ing that can be done on a machine; half a yard of
dress fabric worked up by hand into the most beau-
tiful pleatings, in a style that would bring tears of

* -'-Ii-i -7'I -


dreary seams, that I used to be glad I was not a girl.
But nowadays there is sewing without weeping:
a neat box all ready for school,-with thimbles,
needles, pins, thread, scissors; hundreds of pieces
of cloth, basted and ready to be stitched; no dreary
seams to tire young fingers, but easy graded les-

joy to the manly eyes of a ladies' tailor; a piece
of wonderful patching; and a square of darning so
perfect that it was impossible to tell which was the
new cloth, and which the old garment. Why, the
girl must have been a finished dress-maker She
could earn good wages to-morrow by simply show-



ing her '' graduation exercise." And as we turned
to a dozen other exhibits in the hall, we saw more
sewing, from the work of the first class in hem-
ming up to that of the little dress-makers, who
could cut, fit, and make their own clothes.
What can boys do? Judging by their grand
exhibit, we thought to ourselves they can do
almost anything!" Some boys who attend one
of the uptown schools on the east side had formed
a club for home work and study in mechanics,
and there was a table filled with their work. It
was chiefly models in wood of real things the boys
had seen a crane, a dumb-waiter, a stone-saw,

at every lesson a boy has to take, from learning to
draw to making a step-ladder. There were stools,
tables, small bureaus, and other furniture made,
finished, stained, and varnished by boys in the
school. There was even a window-frame ready to
put in the wall of a house, with sash, blinds, and
all, complete and in working order; and the boy
who made it was only fourteen years old.
There are in every school queer girls or odd boys
who somehow fail often and are at the foot of every
class. These children may be as bright as any,
but there is nothing in the school to bring them
out. In this exhibition we found the work of some


dull. ULLL ul 3aCilVil jIuVI.
The opposite table showed school work done by
the boys of the Hebrew Technical Institute. Those
young master mechanics, it seems, attended school
every day and at the same time learned the use
of tools, the pencil, the saw, the hammer, and the
plane. First of all, every boy had to learn to
draw, not merely to make a pretty picture of some-
thing, but to make a regular working-drawing, so
that the real thing could be constructed from it,
and so that when the thing is finished, the drawing
will be a true picture of it, whatever it may be. So
we found there regular graded lessons in drawing,
and in making joints in wood, and in construction.
As the boy improves, he studies pattern-making
and learns to make a mold from the pattern, and
to melt lead and make a casting. We saw all the
carpentry lessons arranged in order, and glanced

buys. ihey l c -- --
beautiful things in
fields and wood, and they have
wise teachers. It is not every child that can express
itself in a composition. These boys and girls ex-
press the ideas that are in them with a pencil. They
study real, living things, plants and flowers, and they
learn to place the forms of these things on paper and
add to them something of their own day-dreams,
and soon every one who sees them exclaims:
"What beautiful designs These so-called
dull children who never can understand the
multiplication table, and who shed useless tears
over the tables of weights and measures, here find the
right kind of school for them: and they appeared,
with their work, in this children's exhibition, as
bright, as interested, as eager to learn as any prize-
medal scholar in any grammar school.




Now we must not think that only the quiet,
thoughtful girls can do such work. Every child has
some sense of beauty; the trouble is that unless it
is given instruction in such things, it will probably
never, except by accident, find out what it can do.
They are wiser about such things in Chicago.
On the wall of the exhibition-room, under the gal-
lery, was a grand display of work, and so arranged
that we could see just what every child in the public
schools of Chicago studies from year to year. The
pictures were arranged in three rows to illustrate
the different kinds of work; and below the pictures,
on a long table, was a collection of little models,
made by the children in the schools. There were
balls, cubes, and pyramids shaped in clay by little
hands. Even the youngest children in primary
schools can do this. Why, it is only fun, to shape
the soft clay Of course, every little seven-year-
old fellow is in a hurry every morning to get to
so grand a school, where he learns what a cube is
by making a true, fair cube in soft clay. Having
learned to make various shapes in clay, he then
learns to make simple outlines of the same objects
by placing straws together in those shapes on his
desk. Next, he can go one step further, and with
a pair of scissors cut cardboard into shapes that
represent those forms. Then he can proceed to
use these shapes in various ways to make designs,
or he can cut in paper or in white wood, with a
scroll-saw, pretty figures suggested by the clay-
models. He can even make new lines on the old
shapes, and decorate the clay forms he first made.
If your teacher tells you that a cube is a
"rectangular parallelopiped, which has its six
sides squares," you may think it is all right, and
say it after him without tripping, and yet not
have the least notion that the wooden blocks on
which you learned your letters were all cubes.
This Chicago youngster would not use those dread-
ful words to describe a cube. He would make one
and give you a picture of it. Did he not construct
one out of wet clay ? He knows a cube anywhere,
and he will never forget it. All his life long he
will see cubes of every size, and he will know in
an instant whether they are true cubes with all
the six sides truly square. And if you give him
a piece of paper, he will cut it out into a perfect
cross, and then fold it up in a certain way and
make a box that is a cube. Besides all this, his
cubes are ornamented, so that he is already an
artist, and enjoys making things beautiful.
The picture here given shows the three ways in
which the Chicago primary scholar works. At the
base are the forms he constructs in clay; then the
outlines made of bits of straw ; then the figures cut
out of cardboard; and finally the decorated figures
made from these forms. In this way, he studies

construction or making things; representation, or
picture-making ; and decoration, or the making of
beautiful figures that are like the things he con-

V- '',

'(.-- ME=-

structed aid represented. We walked along that
beautiful exhibit and saw hundreds of things molded
in clay or cut out of soap or carved in wood, and then
saw the drawings and ornaments made from those
things. We perceived just how the Chicago boy or
girl goes on from work with straw to simple drawings
on a slate, and then to finished drawings in pencil
on paper, until we wondered if every child in Chi-
cago is to be an artist.
Next to that fine display of children's work from
Chicago came a series of drawings by the pupils
of the schools of Worcester, Mass. Here, too, we
find the boys and girls making drawings of real
things that they have made themselves or that



were made by others. The first drawings are to
show how the things are constructed, the others to
show how they look. Then the pupils take flowers
or other objects and make from them original de-

[3rdYfi ~

------I 1~1
S--_ I

,, 4 I .


signs that may be used for decoration. In this ex-
-- .. I,'' I .

hibit, too, were beautiful pictures in water-colors

to show that the young artists understood the har-
mony of colors. If the exhibition had shown us
nothing more than the admirable work by those
Massachusetts boys and girls, it would have well
repaid us for coming.
Next to the Worcester exhibit stood the New
Haven tables. What fine times those New England
children must have Her e we found more draw-
ings, by Connecticut boys and girls, showing that
they also know how things are made, and how they
look on paper. Here, too, were more of those cu-
rious shapes, cut out of paper, to be folded up into
cubes and prisms, cylinders and pyramids. There
even were little pots and pans, cut out of paper,
every part made by itself from a drawing, and the

little model made by pasting the parts together.
What an easy way that must be to study squares and
circles, parallel lines and the whole family of angles !
New Haven boys will never stumble over that try-
ing old question, as to the difference between two
square feet and two feet square. They learn all
about it in a new kind of game with scissors and
paper and a pot of paste. We might spend hours
in looking over the work of those New Haven boys
and girls -the handsome furniture, the neat sewing
and pretty embroidery, the busy work" of kin-
dergarten tots, and the carpentry work of the big
boys; and the more we studied that school work,
the more we should wish, probably, that all schools
were like those schools.
Leaving the New Haven tables we came to the
grand exhibit made by the school-children of Phil-
adelphia. In that city, there are twenty-five thou-
sand girls studying plain sewing every week of the
school year. The piled-up tables loaded with sew-




ing showed only a small part of the work. On other
tables we could see excellent designs and work in
hammered brass, fine carvings, and even furniture
and stamped leather-work. Then there was one
very interesting table. On the wall above it were
working drawings showing how wooden joints of
all kinds are made; and on the table itself were
dovetails, mortises and tenons admirably done in
wood. There too were pieces of cast iron chipped



'mJS r,


and filed into various shapes. Very few workmen
in shops could do better, and yet all we saw was
the work of public-school boys.
As we turned away from those tables, we saw
another marked St.
Louis." Here was shown
more workbylittlehands,
more drawings, too, and
all proving that those
Western youngsters are 11
having happy times in
school with busy fingers.
Next, we came upon some W -_.
excellent drawings by
pupils of a South End
Industrial School at Bos-
ton. The boys of that A. 2'
school have a printing- I -
press, and the girls can
make bread as well as Il ,
trim bonnets, for they I
exhibited both the hats
and the loaves. James- "
town, in New York, is -i '

also teaching its boys and
girls to work with their
hands, and some of their
work in the exhibition is
Did you ever think
what itistobeblind ?-to
be unable to tell whether
the paper you hold in
your hand is white or blue
or some other color. How
could we do anything if

---we could not see?
But in the Children's
SExhibition, on a ta-
Sting and fancy work
ji ofblind children, was
S the strangest display
of all- kindergarten
I -work made by a hun-
dred blind girls and
Sboys No bad work
in it either; it all was
i, neatandperfect. Yet
3 those children have
,i'll never seen the work
,i their young hands
have made.
i A boy may lose a
Foot or a leg and be
a cripple all his life.
Shall he give up in
despair and do nothing, or beg, which would be
even worse ? No. He has his hands and a brave
heart. He will have a manly spirit even if he has
a broken body. Well, on a table near the blind



children's work, was a collection of brooms and
brushes,-new, well-made brushes, as good as you
can find, and all made by the young workmen of the
Crippled Boys' Brush
.Shop in New York.
There, too, were ta- .
bles loaded with work
from four orphan asy-
lums in New York and
Brooklyn, and we saw
sewing, bread-making,
net-making and cabi- .
net-workdonebyyoung /
hands that have lost
their hold on fathers'
and mothers' fingers., '
Other friendly hands '
are leading them to be
useful and skillful in .
many good works.
W e may have been acc,,:':.,...i. i.. iliik i i-
dian boys and girls as litt! : : ., .::. ..,i,- t.!.i r.:o d:
anything except to use a 1:... :,-.:l :.1 .:. ..I! .:. ik.:
care of the wigwam. Buc the ,li ibiLoiun iIulLdcJd
also a display of objects made by Indian children
at school. There was a set of harness, a pair of
shoes, and some sensible coffee-pots made by Indian
boys and girls. Like so many others, they are
learning to use their hands.
We may pity those halt and blind, those neg-
lected children from the wilderness, and those little
ones who have known grief; but see how brave
they are They have wiped away all tears and
found it sweet and wise to learn to work, to forget
their griefs in industry. Depend upon it, if we
had learned nothing more by coming to this exhib-
ition than this, we should have learned a great

deal-that work is a cure for many ills, that work
actually means happiness.
Near the door of the main hall was a fine model
of a suspension bridge with towers and cables com-

plete. Beneath it were drawings showing how the
bridge was made. This was the work of the boys
of the Gramercy Park School and Tool-house Asso-

.... r.,r i ,.:, : .c l..: / 'l1 \ 1- '- "- -
[-.1 o, : -,.,.1 .:. r.. ..r...J '1,) 1 1' i -.-i.
I '. I J l .. l -. .. .. i '
thle ,,OuL ki dli.in i" '
They built up the foundations and towers, piece by
piece, andstrungthe cables and suspended the road-
way. All, too, while the builders were attending
school and without loss of time from their regular
And even now I have not told you of half the
things in that beautiful exhibition. As we sat there,
people were flocking in, young and old, teachers
and pupils, eager to see what children can do.
And now, what does it all mean? Let us have
a little talk about it.
To that exhibition, more than four thousand chil-
dren sent the work of their hands. We do not think
of them as Western children, as Eastern boys, or
New York girls, as Hebrews, Catholics, as orphans,
or blind, or anything else. They are children at
school, and there is the wonder of it all. It is
plain their schools are not like other schools and
are very different from those I saw when a boy. It
is plain that those children can do many things
that children without their advantages can not do.
And besides, they are probably happier than any
children who ever went to school before.
Let us see why this is so. Most children go to
primary school and then to grammar school and
perhaps to high school and college, or to some
private school. This exhibition plainly shows us
that there is a new kind of school, that there are
new lessons and new teachers coming. Books
we must have. To learn, we must read; but we
may read all about boats, and yet we can never
learn to sail a boat till we take the tiller in hand
and trim the sail before the breeze. The booknwill



help wonderfully in telling us the names of things
in the boat and, if we have read about sailing,
we shall more quickly learn to sail; but we cer-
tainly never shall learn till we are in a real boat.
We can read in a book how to turn a heel in knit-
ting, and may commit to memory whole rules about
"throwing off two and purl four," and all the rest;
yet where is the girl who can learn to knit without
having the needles in her hands?
This then is the idea of the new school--to use
the hands as well as the eyes. Boys and girls who

can not make a crooked joint in woodwork and
be satisfied; neither is he likely to be content with
crooked work in word or deed.
The four thousand children whose work filled
that exhibition hall, read books and study lessons
precisely as do you ; but they do more. For two,
or perhaps four, hours every week they lay down
their books and take up those splendid tools, the
pencil, the needle, the hammer, the saw, and the
file. Are they any less readers than those who
only read? No ; they are better readers, because

/~ -

ST i I IPl

III 4f

I r ,4 t
ii; .

:go to the ordinary schools, where only books are
used, will graduate knowing a great deal; but a
boy who goes to one of these new schools, where,
besides the books, there are pencils and tools, work-
benches as well as writing-books, will know more.
The other boys and girls may forget more than
half they read, but he will remember everything he
learned at the drawing-table or at the work-bench,
as long as he lives. He will also remember more
of that which he reads because his work with his
hands helps him to understand what he reads.
Again, a boy who goes to one of the new schools,
where once a week he spends two hours in a shop,
and works with his hands, say to make a square
block of wood "true,"- exact to the hundredth part
of an inch,-will soon see that bad work is not
square, is not true and fair. A piece of false work
will seem ugly and show bad workmanship. He will
go out of the shop proud that he can do true work;
.and all false things, whether in wood or only in
:thought, will seem bad and wrong to that boy. He

they are workers; because by work they better
understand reading.
I remember long ago a tear-stained book of
tables of weights and measures, and a teacher's im-
patience with a stupid child who could not master
the tables." And I have seen a school where the
tables were written on a blackboard-thus: "two
pints are equal to one quart," and on a stand in
the school-room was a tin pint measure and a tin
quart measure, and a box of dry sand. Every
happy youngster had a chance to fill that pint
with sand and pour the sand in the quart measure.
Two pints filled it. He knew it. Did he not see
it, did not every boy try it? Ah Now they knew
what it all meant. It was as plain as day that
two pints of sand were equal to one quart of sand;
and with merry smiles those six-year-old philoso-
phers learned the tables of measures; and they
will never forget them. This is, in brief, what is
meant by industrial education. To learn by using
the hands,-to study from things as well as from



books. This is the new school, these are the new
lessons. The children who can sew, or design, or
draw, or carve wood, or do joinering work, or cast
metals, or work in clay and brass, are the best-edu-
cated children, because they use their hands as
well as their eyes and their brains.
You may say that in such schools all the boys will
become mechanics, and all the girls become dress-
makers. Some may, many will not; and yet what-
ever they do, be it preaching, keeping a store, or
singing in concerts, they will do their work better
than those who only read in books. The new
schools are the best schools. Will there not be
more of them every year? I think parents will
see that it is an excellent thing for all boys and
girls to learn to use their hands, that not to use the
hands at all is to be helpless in the great school
we all attend when we are men and women.
The exhibition held last March may be only the

beginning of a new education wherein the hard
lessons of the books, that no little fellow ever could
understand, shall give place to bright and inter-
esting books about work and about things. There
may yet be shops in every schoolyard, and em-
broidery frames on every girl's desk. There will
be books, of course, and there also may be tools.
There will be examinations indeed, but there may
also be in every town an exhibition like the one I
have told you of; and the fathers and mothers
and all the good people flocking to the schools
may see what the children can do with their hands.
There will be speeches and recitations and music
as now, and there may also be drawings and brass-
work, embroidery, and designs in clay and in wood;
and every child may be able to work as well as to
study. No more tears over unmeaning lessons,
but everywhere pleasure and interest because study
is joined to work, and to learning is added industry.



OH, the funny little barn on a hill-side near our
town !
With two wee, squinting windows in a row,
And a great wide-open door-way, like the mask-
mouth of a clown,
It seems to be forever saying, Oh "
Oh! cries the little barn; Oh "
If you break a china dish
Or run away to fish,
Oh cries the little barn; Oh! "

One morning very early, we stole two pumpkin
And thought we 'd go and eat them by the
But when we looked behind us, there stared
those watchful eyes,
And oh, they stared so hard it made us
quake !
And Oh! cried the little barn ; "Oh!"
If you stole a pumpkin pie
To eat it on the sly,
Oh cried the little barn; Oh "

"I tell you now," said Jenny, "the old thing
wont keep still
Until we put those pies right back, I know.
Let' s slip 'round to the pantry and lay them on
the sill,
Or it will wake the folks up shouting, 'Oh !'"
For, Oh !" cried the little barn; Oh! "
Till we put away those pies
Before its very eyes,
Oh cried the little barn ; "Oh !"




As I have already told you, men can convey ideas
to one another by making various kinds of marks.
They can also speak to one another without
using spoken words, by means of gestures. Ani-
mals likewise gesticulate, though in a much
cruder way. You have probably seen deaf-mutes
converse, eying one another sharply while their
fingers kept fluttering and their features working
in a lively play of expression. They were speak-
ing a silent language, which is the motion-language
of animals and the signal-language of savages
carried to the highest point. Watch in any black
berry patch the large brown thrush, the cat-bird,
or the chewink. Every motion of the bird as it
bustles about, is unconcerned. But let it catch
sight of you, or let its eyes fall on snake or hawk
or cat, and you will see the difference in its mo-
tions. Four-footed wild animals exhibit different
emotions, such as anger or alarm, by various
movements of the head and limbs.
Among savage nations, like our Indians and the
wild tribes of Asia, whose nomadic habits cause
their languages to become distinct from one another
even when they belong to the same parent stock,
and where intercourse is apt to be dangerous on
account of feuds, the language of gestures has
been wonderfully developed. A Zufii will signal
to an Apache, his enemy, and sustain a very full
conversation with him across one of those tremen-
dous canyons which are the marvel of our South-
west. For instance, putting the hand to the cheek
and inclining the head means "sleep." Touch-
ing the heart means, I am sincere." Thrusting
forward the two fingers from the lips, to imitate
the forked tongue of the snake, means, "you tell
The lower orders of people in Italy have always
been famous for quickness in making and reading
signals, and a Neapolitan is often as expert as an
Indian of the plains in the language of signals:
in fact, he is smarter, for he will even talk by
means of it to one of his kind while a stranger
remains unconscious that they are communicating
with each other before his face.
Some writers have argued that our letters
must have been developed from signs once drawn
roughly to indicate gestures made by the human
limbs. An ingenious person has proposed an
entirely new alphabet, which he considers much

quicker and more sensible than our own. It is
based on gestures natural to mankind and reduced
from those which he considers the most important.
But into this and into the endless varieties of short-
hand writings and abbreviated writings proposed
by inventors in what is called stenography, tachy-
graphy, and other strange-looking words selected
from the Greek dictionary, we can not enter.
By sounds, too, ideas are conveyed between ani-
mals and between men. As used by mankind,
we call the sounds speech; owing to the gulf that
man in his pride wishes to set between himself
and beasts, we call the sounds made by animals
anything rather than speech. When your dog
wags its tail, it uses a sort of gesture language.
But when it barks, does it not speak ? If you
ever saw the great actor Salvini play "Othel-
lo," you will remember that he uses cries, like
those of animals, to express rage, grief, or remorse,
which are too great to find the measured relief of
words. Birds sing their happiness and cry their
distress. Between the disconsolate mewing of the
cat-bird and its rich song of gladness at sunset,
while the mother is safe on the nest, the difference
is astonishing; so is the difference between the
mellow song of the brown thrush and its squirrel-
like bark at the certainty of danger, or its vicious
clucking and hissing when its nest is found and
touched. Jays have a discordant cry, but also a
charming bell-like call note, which sounds rarely
in the deep pine forests. Even fish sometimes
make voluntary sounds, while the cries of our
frogs and toads and insects, which make the
wilderness joyous, at times are deafening. Ani-
mals, as a rule, have some kind of speech, how-
ever rude, however occasional may be its use.
But such marks as animals leave on sand or wood,
in grass of bushes, can hardly be called writing by
the widest interpretation, for they lack intention.
To be sure, when the grizzlybear rears its ugly bulk
against a redwood-tree and gashes the loose bark
in order to stretch its claws, it leaves a sign be-
hind which some animals, particularly those of its
own race and those on which it most preys, un-
doubtedly can read. But the nearest approach,
in an animal, to intentional acts designed to be
seen or enjoyed by others, is the decoration of its
curious house by the bower-bird of New Guinea.
A pair of these birds will build an arbor of twigs
and leaves for no apparent purpose except their
own amusement, and then decorate it with bright





feathers and stones, as if they experienced pleas-
ure in looking at it and wished other birds or
creatures to see it. But even this is far from the
rudest beginnings of writing.
Man writes from forethought and for the in-
struction of himself and others. Speech is a
gift; writing an invention. Speech we share
with the animals. Those parts of speech which
we call ejaculations can not be separated from the
cries of animals. You may have heard man called
the talking animal. Would it not be better to call
him the writing animal? His invention of writing
separates him more than does articulate speech,
from the lower orders of animate beings. No
matter now how far back we go, or how far down
we dig through the earth's crust to the layers of soil
deposited nobody knows how long ago, wherever
we find things fashioned by men, we find pictures
that show the groping toward some kind of writ-
ing. Now, it is a portrait of a horse carved in
outline on a piece of bone; at another time, it is a
mammoth attacked by a hunter under cover of a
wolf-skin. The difference between the brains of
man and the brains of the highest animals is so
great that, however we may suspect from other
things that there was an age when men were little
stronger in wits than the apes, we have as yet no
certainty where and when a race of men lived who
could not at least draw a picture in outline. The
Bushmen, an African nation thought to be the
lowest of living men in intellect, are now known to
be marvelously expert in drawing. They cover
the walls of their caves with well-drawn portraits
of wild beasts.
So you see that the alphabet, which you learn
at an age so early that you forget its difficulties, is
perhaps the most curious and marvelous contri-
vance that has been produced by the brain of
man. It is so old, that its origin is lost in the per-
spective of the past. To reconstruct its history is
extremely difficult. The further back we go, the
more confused are the records, and the scant-
ier they become ; but those which we find seem
to point originally to a great variety of writings.
The general history seems to be that of simpler
from less simple -simpler pictures from complex
pictures, simpler alphabets from alphabets more
complex. Then a few chosen alphabets outlived
all the rest; and finally one form, in great variation
to be sure, rules now throughout a great portion
of the whole world.
This, as you have seen, is the alphabet which
we share with so many nations of different speech,
color, and ancestry. Still, only half satisfied with
the derivation of this alphabet, we ask, whence
did it come to the Phoenicians? Was it evolved on
Egyptian soil? Or did the Phoenicians perfect it

from some old syllabary like those which I have
already described to you. A syllabary of the an-
cient Hittites of Palestine has just been discovered
and partly made out. Attempts have been made
to trace it to the cuneiform picture-writing at
Babylon, which also I have told you about; and
some have thought it may have been born in India,
out of a vanished syllabary, and its origin com-
pletely forgotten because of wars and the destruc-
tion of monuments. Or perhaps some very early
or forgotten emigration of people from Asia into
Egypt may have carried with it a crude alphabet,
which, after further changes, was carried by another
and a seafaring people, the Phoenicians, to the
nations about the Mediterranean. One of David's
captains was Uriah the Hittite. More and more
is being learned nowadays about the Hittites,
or Khetas, a Semitic nation that conquered and
held Egypt for many centuries, long before David's
time. It is thought by some that Joseph was sold
by his brothers into slavery while the Hittites
ruled over the patient Egyptians, who abhorred
them and their gods. There seems to have
been no difficulty on the part of Joseph and his
brothers in making themselves understood by
Potiphar and the Pharaoh that sat on the
throne. If the ruling class was Semitic at the
time, the court speech of the day was doubtless a
dialect something like Hebrew, and this explains
also why the starving sons of Jacob turned to
Egypt for grain. The Hittites are considered the
same people as the Khetas, the same also as the
Shepherd Kings whom the Egyptians called the
Hyksos. Perhaps it was during the reign of the
Hyksos, or Hittites, and while the Hebrews were in-
creasing mightily in numbers, and gradually fall-
ing under the displeasure of their rulers in Egypt,
that the Phenicians, their seafaring relatives,
adapted those twenty-two letters from the great
store of signs and symbols accumulated by long
lines of Egyptian priests.
You have seen that the origin of the letters of
our alphabet has been attributed to many different
sources. One has been sought in the signal or
gesture language, common to savage man, still
used by civilized man under certain circumstances,
and not unknown in its most general features to
the lower animals. You may remember that the
forms of letters have been traced back by some to
the shapes of trees, and by others to the shapes
of animals. The best reasoned origin of the Phoe-
nician alphabet ascribes it to rude pictures of gods,
men, animals, plants, and objects.
A young man came to one of the wisest Jewish
Rabbis to be a disciple.
My son," asked the Rabbi, "what is your
occupation ? "




I am a scribe," he replied.
"Then," exclaimed the Rabbi; "be thou
conscientious, 0 my son, for thy work is God-
like 1 "
Many nations have held that their letters were
the suddenly inspired inventions of demi-gods;
others have maintained that only a godcould have
given so useful and admirable a thing to man. The
divine origin of letters has been asserted in twenty
different tongues. You have seen how many differ-
ent earthly objects have been suggested as the
source of letters. A Frenchman named Moreau
de Dammartin, a Member of the French Institute,
claimed that the letters of the alphabet were de-
rived from the constellations which lie on the path
of the earth around the sun; and certain old
star-readers believed that they could read men's
characters and destinies by the aid of the con-
stellations from which Dammartin derived the
letters of the alphabets. And to-day there are
people who claim to read men's characters from
their handwriting alone. As the writing of every
nation is distinguished by certain strong national
peculiarities, it is easy for an expert to decide to
what nation a writer belongs. Having settled that,
certain large characteristics which are common to
all men, but in different degrees, can be seen in
every handwriting. A certain number of men
are calm, even-lived, sensible, and practical.
Men of that class are almost certain to write plain,
round hands in which every letter is distinctly
legible; neither very much slanted forward, nor
tilted backward; no letter very much bigger than
its neighbor, nor with heads much above or tails
much blow the letters not so distinguished; the
letters all having about the same general upright-
ness, and the lines true to the edges of the
paper, neither tending upward nor downward.
Exact, business-like people will have an exact
handwriting. Fantastic minds revel in quirks and
streamers, particularly for the capital letters, and
this quality is not infrequent in certain business
hands, as if the writers found a relief from the
prosaic nature of their work in giving flourishes
to certain letters. Firm, decided, downright men
are apt to bear on the pen while writing, and
to make their strokes hard and thick. On the
contrary, people who are not sure of themselves,
and are lacking in self-control, press unevenly,
and with anxious-looking, scratchy hands. Am-
bitious people are apt to be overworked; they are
always in haste and either forget to cross their t's,
or dot their i's. They are also apt to run the last
few letters of every word into an illegible scrawl.

Besides thosewho do this naturally, there are others,
silly or young people, who imitate the illegibleness
in the handwriting of some one whom they ad-
mire. Flurried, troubled, and conscience-twinged
persons have a crabbed and uneven handwriting.
From all this it will appear that the claim of those
who try to read character from handwriting is
not so absurd as some people imagine.
I have now tried to tell you as plainly as possible
the main facts about our alphabet so far as its his-
tory has been puzzled out. Those who are not
afraid of large words, and wish to learn at greater
length, should read the articles on the alphabet in
the "Encyclopaedia Britannica" and also in "Ap-
pleton's Cyclopaedia," and especially the two large
volumes called "The Alphabet," written by Mr.
Isaac Taylor. The number of special books and
treatises in French, German, and English, bear-
ingon different languages and their alphabets is too
great to mention here.
We are taught the alphabet so soon after infancy
that we naturally underrate its importance all our
lives. Yet, who shall measure its importance to
civilization ? Writing has enabled mankind to
store up knowledge. There are calculations and
speculations which require so much straining of
the mind, that advance to them and beyond them
would have been impossible without the stepping-
stones furnished by writing. For calculations,
numerals and algebraic letters are the stepping-
stones; for speculations, words and frequent sen-
tences. The storing of ideas in books is often
badly done, and people are always ready to groan
over the vast accumulations of volumes and the
very small proportion of ideas worth preserving.
Yet, until volumes became general and no longer
the mysterious conjuring books of the few, human
knowledge was always more or less in danger of
being swept from the earth by accidents .to the
few and scattered libraries. The more widely a
book was spread in copies over the world, the less
was the chance of its total disappearance. The
printing-press aided in this kind of insurance of
the knowledge of man against accidents. And
neither printing-press nor alphabet need yet be
considered as perfected. Our alphabet is not
the best ever invented, but it is short and handy.
As a subject for study, it yields to nothing that is
connected intimately with the civilization of man-
kind. When we understand the history of the
alphabet in all its course, and in all its minor
points, we shall know the history of mankind ever
since men first began to diverge widely from the
beasts of the wood.



lp lp> i' *-'

Little Soys



' I c ,'l ----l-n o

OH, never yet were little boys so much alike as they !
Each looked more like the other than himself, folks used to say.
And since no one between them any difference could tell
Some incidents quite undeserved the two at times befell.

Their mother was so puzzled about telling which was which
That it made it very awkward when she had to use her switch;
And it frequently would happen that the guilty one went free,
While his righteous little brother would be placed across her knee.

When either of the little boys was vexed with childish ills
The good old doctor soon would bring his castor oil and squills,
And, in spite of tears and protests, he would very often make
The well one swallow all his horrid doses, by mistake.

Though one at school was always head, the teacher had to put
The other (who would never learn his lessons) at the foot;
So the bright boy for his indolence was ofttimes sternly chid, -
And the dull one patted on.the head for what his brother did.

And sometimes, too, the cook would make a little pie for one,
And give it to the other just as soon as it was done;
And, to keep the first from crying, she would roll him out one more,
But the second, when he came again, would get it, as before.

Oh, never yet were little boys so much alike as they !
Each looked more like the other than himself, folks used to say.
And since no one between them any difference could tell,
Surprising and unjust rewards the two at times befell



, .. *'-.-



[A Story ofj the Maine Coast. ]


AFTER assisting to bring Oily safe to shore,
Perce Bucklin had time to reflect upon his still
unclaimed treasure-trove and to grow extremely
anxious in regard to it.
He had not felt responsible for its first immer-
sion in the sea. But it had received a second
wetting while in his possession. That set him to
considering seriously the damage salt water might
do, if it should get into the delicate works, and
he worried over this to such an extent that he
could no longer keep quietly at work, with the
watch still in his damp pocket.
"Boys," said he, "I 'm going to have some
doughnuts." He had planned in his own mind
that he would take that opportunity to conceal his
prize in some safe, dry place.
I 'm hungry too !" said Moke.
So 'm I!" said Poke.
And all threw down their forks. Their early
breakfast, their labor at the kelp, and their excit-
ing adventure on the water, had made the morn-
ing seem very long, and prepared them for a
substantial luncheon.
That was n't just what Perce expected. They
were no sooner seated on the sand, with pail and
basket and a bottle of spruce beer between them,
than fresh restlessness seized him.
Whoever the owner of the watch was or was to
be, he felt that it ought to go at once to the jew-
eler, and be cleaned and oiled. He suddenly
jumped to his feet.
"Boys," he said, taking a piece of cheese in
one hand and a wedge of apple-pie in the other,
"go on with your lunch; I'll be eating mine
while I run up and see how Olly is getting along."
"Take some of Ma's spruce beer, first," said
the twins.
Perce thanked them, but said he would have his
share when he came back.
"Don't wait for me," he added, "if I should
get to talking, and be a little late."
He had been gone but a few minutes, and the
twins were still busy with their bread and butter
and doughnuts, when they heard footsteps coming
behind them, and looked around, expecting to see
him on his return.
But they saw instead a strange man, with a
VOL. XIII.-59.

resolute face under a shady hat-brim. A little
behind him lingered two of the boarding-house
ladies they had seen before.
"Where's the other member of your party?"
asked the man, after looking beyond the twins and
all about. The one you call Perce."
Perce Bucklin ? He just went up to the
boarding-house," they replied; "he left us about
five minutes ago."
"I 've just come from the boarding-house,"
said the man. He was n't there when we left;
and we met no such boy on the way."
"That's strange!" said Moke.
And he and his brother began to call. The woods
echoed their voices, but no other voice replied.
"I don't know where he is!" said Poke, as-
"He seemed to have something on his mind,"
said Moke; "and may be -- "
"May be he went to the village exclaimed
They could n't conceive why he should have
gone to the village, but they remembered that he
had spoken vaguely of having some errand there,
which he must do before he returned home.
Thank you," the gentleman replied, and went
back to speak with the ladies. "That fellow has
gone off to dispose of the watch," he said to them;
"and I don't think these two know anything
about it."
He had at all events thought it better not to
mention the subject to the twins; in order that, if
they should see Perce before he did, they might
not put him on his guard.
Perce had, in fact, immediately changed his
mind, after leaving his companions; if, indeed,
he had any serious notion of going to inquire for
Instead of going to the boarding-house, he
crossed a corner of the woods, in order to strike a
road leading to the village, which was about three-
quarters of a mile away.
As soon as he was well out of sight, he began to
run, pausing only a minute or two in the woods,
where he took out his prize, pressed the spring that
opened the hunter's case, and looked at the still
beautiful bright, white face of the watch.
I don't believe it is hurt much! he exclaimed
joyfully. I wonder how long it has been in the
water i "


The pointers indicated ten minutes past two.
Thinking the watch must have stopped soon after
it dropped into the sea, he muttered:
"That might have been two o'clock last night,
or yesterday, or some day of last week; who
knows? Hullo!"
A new mystery The second-hand, as he watched
it, moved! He held the timepiece to his ear, and
heard a faint tick.
The works were running still, though feebly.
Then the watch could have been in the sea but a
few hours; and it was no doubt some water that
had got into it which had retarded without stop-
ping the motion of the wheels.
"Eight hours slow! said Perce, thinking it
must be by that time past ten o'clock.
Astonished as he was, his purpose to visit the
village remained unchanged. Indeed, it seemed
to him all the more important that the watch, since
he was convinced that it was as yet uninjured,
should go to the jeweler's without delay.
He had not meant, from the first, to withhold
it from its rightful owner, if he could find that per-
son; but only to keep it from the twins, who
might set up what he considered an unjust claim
to half its value. He expected to advertise it,
after putting it into the jeweler's hands ; he had
therefore no motive for disguising from the latter
the manner in which it had come into his posses-
He was prepared to tell a straightforward
story; only leaving out his want of confidence in
the twins, of which he could n't help feeling
ashamed. But unfortunately the jeweler was not
in his shop. After a little search, Perce found him
walking with a man on the street; and, coming to
his side, whispered in his ear that he had a little
job for him.
As they entered the shop together, Perce did
not notice a third man, flushed with excitement
and haste, who had followed him at a distance,
and was now watching with an air of affected care-
lessness, to see what he would do.
As the jeweler went behind his counter, Perce
stood before it, with his back to the door, and
said breathlessly, in a low tone, as he produced
the watch:
"Here's something I want you to be rather
confidential about until-"
Until it could be advertised in due form, he was
going to say; for he was anxious that no false
claimant should get a description of the watch
beforehand. But he had hardly yet recovered his
breath, and while he was hesitating, the jeweler
opened the watch.
Where has this been? In the water? he asked.
"Yes," said Perce. "And I want you to do

whatever is necessary to put it into good order;
and to say nothing about it until -- "
Here he stopped again, and looked quickly
around at somebody who just then entered the
It was Mr. Hatville, who, having stood a mo-
ment at the open door, watching the jeweler and
the boy, stepped in quickly but quietly, and laying
one hand, with a firm grasp, on Perce's arm,
extended the other over the counter.
"Mr. Middleton," said he, I don't think you
mean to be a receiver of stolen goods. But it hap-
pens that you have my watch!"
"Yours, Mr. Hatville!" said the astonished
jeweler. "I thought I had seen it before" (for
Mr. Hatville had dealt with him at times, and had
shown him his chronometer with much pride),
"but never in such a condition !"
"It has run down, I suppose," said the owner,
adding with grim sarcasm, I hoped the thief would
know enough to wind it! Boy!" he cried, tighten-
ing his grip on Perce's arm, "you 've no business
to steal watches, if you can't keep 'em wound "



PERCE stood aghast and trembling, trying to
speak. Thejeweler spoke for him.
"This boy did n't steal it, did he ? I know his
father. He 's one of the selectmen of the town.
You are Mr. Bucklin's boy, are n't you ?"
I am Percival Bucklin," said Perce, endeavor-
ing to assume the proverbial boldness of innocence,
but nevertheless appearing far more guilty than if
he had been a hardened rogue. I did n't steal
it. I found it."
"Yes, and I know just where you found it!"
said Hatville. "I know, too, just where you '1
be found, in about ten minutes, if Mr. Middleton
will have the kindness to step out and call a
"Give the boy a chance," said the jeweler.
"He belongs to one of the best families in town.
I believe he's honest. Tell just how you came
by the watch, Percival."
"That 's what I was going to do when this
man rushed in and grabbed me," said Perce.
He was once more beginning his story, when
Mr. Hatville broke out again excitedly:
"Where's the rest of the chain? "
"It 's just as I found it," said Perce.
And what's the matter with the watch ?" said
Hatville. He had loosed his hold of the boy's arm,
and taken the timepiece in both hands. It has n't
run down!"




Worse than that," Mr. Middleton replied.
" It has been in the water."
"Boy I" cried the angry owner, did you have
it with you when you went out to the Old Cow
for Oily Burdeen this morning?"
"Yes," said Perce, "but- "
"And did you get wet?"
Hatville reached down and felt the boy's clothes,
which were still damp.
"A wave dashed over me," Perce admitted,


"Now did you ever hear of anything so exasper-
ating?" said Hatville, turning to Mr. Middleton
with a grim and very unpleasant expression. "It
was n't enough for this young rascal to take a
man's timepiece, that had been regulated down to
a second and a half a month; but he must also go
and jump into the sea with it! "
"I did n't jump into the sea with it! Perce
spoke up impatiently. "Can't you hear what
I have to say? I found that watch in the sea-

weed, on the beach, early this morning, just as the
tide had left it a little while before. If it had n't
been for getting Oily off the rocks, I should
have thought to bring it here earlier. I meant to
have it cleaned and oiled, and then to advertise
for the owner, if he was n't heard from in the
"That seems a straightforward story," said the
"What made him so sly with you, then?" Mr.
Hatville demanded. "Wasn't he asking you to
say nothing about
it, or something of
the kind, when I
came in?"
The jeweler had
"' to admit that Perce
had made some such
S request; which the
I i l ] I' d boy hastened to ex-
"I said all that;
and I was going to

want anybody to see
'ii; it until it was adver-
|< tised, and until the
". i, owner proved his
S claim by giving a
N ...... description of it."
"Ah, very wise,
S indeed and very
plausible But how
did the watch get
into the seaweed,
.'t !trh help Irn ..- 'in."body?" returned Hatville.
.. Tl I:.,. t : It lhai -'rn. is the only person who
hadi a ,: s .. i,: it. Now, young fellow, your
l_:t cur- '. n righLt up. Were n't you in
rn r,.a tuh lut :hi.-'s, last night, and again

[ d.n,'t kr,. -, : thing about your room,"
F.:r.:e rfeh.:d I n rt through the upper entry
.-, II '- '- !:..-o. I -t I ..:- r ng; but that was the
only room I looked into. This morning I went
into some gentleman's room I don't know
whose to get a view from the window, while the
ladies were hunting for a spy-glass; but I saw
no watch there, and I did n't touch a thing."
"Besides, if you notice," Mr. Middleton re-
marked, "this watch-to be more than eight
hours slow, as you see it is, and still going-must
have been in the water considerably more than
eight hours."
The argument seemed to strike Mr. Hatville
forcibly. But a moment's reflection enabled him
to put it easily aside.



"It had probably run down," he said; and
the boy has wound it since."
Why I have n't any key !" Perce exclaimed.
And you did n't know it was a stem-winder ?"
said the owner, with incredulous irony.
Perce said, very truly, that he had n't examined
it sufficiently to discover that fact; he had heard
of stem-winders, but had never before seen one.
Mr. Hatville smiled again.
I can't yet feel quite so sure of this boy's honesty
as you seem to, Mr. Middleton," he said. There
are some things that need to be explained: how the
watch got out of my room and into the sea, in
the first place; and how the chain was broken."
"If I meant to steal it, why should I break the
chain ? Perce demanded.
"I don't know your motive; perhaps because
you saw my monogram on the seal. Come, my
boy," said Mr. Hatville; come and show me
just where and how you found it."
So saying, he left the watch in the jeweler's hands,
and started to return with Perce to the scene of
the kelp-gathering.



ON the way, Perce Bucklin's spirits did not rise,
as a perfectly truthful boy's spirits might have been
expected to do, under the circumstances.
He had already felt, with some uneasiness of
conscience, that his disingenuous treatment of his
partners in the kelp-gathering was unworthy of
the son of so upright a father. But he was now
appalled by the thought of what might be the con-
sequences of his conduct.
As they walked down the road together, Mr.
Hatville asked:
Was anybody with you on the beach when you
found the watch ? "
Perce had known very well that some such
question must come, and he bad been dreading it.
He had tried to think what he should reply; but
now he could only stammer:
Yes;- that is, no;--the Elder boys had just
gone off with a load of seaweed, and I was wait-
ing for them to come back with the cart."
How far away were they ? out of sight ? con-
tinued Mr. Hatville.
"No, not exactly. We were hauling the kelp
into piles, just above high water; explained
"Oh, yes! They were near you, then," said
Mr. Hatville, who had observed the heaps of sea-
weed on the shore. So they '11 know all about
it. Let me hear your story first; then I will

hear theirs. Just how it was found, you under-
"It will be of no use for you to ask them,"
said Perce.
"How so?" replied Mr. Hatville, with another
of his sarcastic, incredulous smiles.
"They did n't know anything about it," Perce
acknowledged miserably.
So you mean to say that you found a valuable
gold watch on the beach, and said nothing about
it to your friends, who must have been within sight
and hearing at the time ? That 's a likely story "
"I don't wonder you think so," said Perce in
deep distress. But I '11 tell you why I did n't.
We had gone into partnership for getting kelp and
driftwood, and had made an agreement that wewere
to divide, half and half, everything we found-half
for me and the team, which is my father's, and
half for them. Then, you see, when I found the
watch, I was afraid they might claim a share in it,
provided the owner did n't turn up."
Very ingenious! was Mr. Hatville's skeptical
"You may believe it or not; it's true!" ex-
claimed Perce, in a broken and agitated voice.
"I did a mean thing; and for that reason I'd
rather you should n't say anything to the Elder
boys about it. But I suppose they will have to
know it. I suppose everybody will have to
know it!" And here his voice failed completely.
I suppose the particulars will have to be known
to several persons before we get through with this
little business," Mr. Hatville replied. Have you
anything more to say for yourself?"
The boy had nothing more to say, except to
describe more particularly how he took the watch
out of the dripping seaweed, and to protest again
his innocence of any dishonest purpose; all of
which, however, did not seem to make much im-
pression upon Mr. Hatville.
They walked on in silence down the sandy road,
Perce as deeply wretched as if he had been already
on his way to the lock-up.
Even if he were spared that last humiliation, he
felt that his good name was gone forever. The
taking of the watch might not be publicly proved
against him; but, unless the mystery of its dis-
appearance from the owner's room, and its re-ap-
pearance in the wave-tossed kelp on the shore -
unless that could be explained, who would believe
him guiltless ? The suspicion might cling to him
through life.
What would his father say ? And how it would
grieve his dear mother !
We '11 not go to the beach now," said Mr. Hat-
ville, "since your friends can't say anything to help
you. I don't see why I brought you away from




the village, anyway. But never mind; we can
trudge back there. And we '11 go to Mrs. Murch-
er's first-now that we are so far on our way."
Harsh as had been his treatment of a supposed
culprit, under what seemed to him very great prov-
ocation, Mr. Hatville could n't help pitying the

Give it to the others! cried Perce passionately.
"I don't want any pay for what I did. No, nor
for saving this man's watch, either,-though I
don't think I ought to be treated this way, as if I
had stolen it."
"Does he deny it?" cried Amy Canfield, eagerly.


boy a little; and, now that his anger was cooled,
he wished to reflect before deciding to turn so
youthful an offender over to the officers of the law.
He kept Perce by his side as he mounted the
piazza steps.
"Yes, I 've found him, and my watch, too,"
he said to the boarders, who came out to hear the
news. It was in his possession."
Glad as they were to hear of his good fortune,
nothing but painful surprise and commiseration
was expressed in the womanly and girlish faces
that looked upon the unhappy boy.
Oh, then! what shall we do with the money?"
sighed Mrs. Merriman.
Whereupon it came out that the friends of Oily
Burdeen had subscribed a small collection, to reward
his rescuers. But, could they bestow it upon such
a boy as this one had shown himself to be ?

"Oh, of course!" replied Mr. Hatville.
"Of course I do!" Perce exclaimed, raising his
voice in vehement protestation. "I found it in
the seaweed, on the beach. But he wont believe
a word I say!"
And he stood defiant, desperate, his eyes flash-
ing through tears.
The most tender-hearted of the lady boarders
could n't blame Mr. Hatville for declining to
accept such a story as that. But just then another
actor in the drama rushed upon the scene.
It was Olly Burdeen, himself, in his old clothes,
his hair tumbled, his eyes excited, his voice chok-
ing as he tried to speak.
"The watch?" he gasped out. "He is n't to
blame! I-I took it!"
In his room, at the end of the corridor above, he
had overheard enough to know that the watch was



found, and that Perce was in trouble. Equally
excited by the good news and the bad, he had
obeyed an impulse of generosity and gratitude,
and hastened to the defense of the friend to whom
he owed his recent rescue.
But, strange to say, nobody believed him! He
was delirious; he was telling a noble untruth; he
was sacrificing himself for one to whom he fancied
that he owed his life. Everybody believed im-
plicitly in Olly; nobody believed in Perce.
Only Mr. Hatville, whose mind had reverted
more than once to Oily, while considering the oth-
er's strange story, listened carefully, thinking that
the clew to the mystery might at last be coming.
How is that, Olly ?" he asked.
I just put on the watch, to wear it a little while
with my new clothes," Master Burdeen confessed
impetuously. Then when the accident hap-
pened to me in the boat, I suppose the oar
snatched it from my pocket. You did n't find the
whole of the chain, did you, Perce ?"
"The hook and the seal are missing," Mr. Hat-
ville replied.
"Here they are !" said Oily, as he took from his
pocket and held out the evidence against himself,
glad enough now that he had not thrown it into
the sea, when tempted to do so.
After that, nobody doubted his story.
"But why did n't you tell me this before?" de-
manded Mr. Hatville, as he took the missing links.
"I thought the watch was lost, and I was
afraid," poor Olly confessed. But I could n't
bear to see him accused "
After this frank acknowledgment from Olly,
Mr. Hatville forbore to utter a single reproach,
and only said:
You need n't have been afraid, if you had only
come forward and told the simple truth. The
watch is found, and there 's no great harm done;
though I shall have some trouble in regulating it
again down to a second and a half a month.
You 'd better go back to bed, Oily."
And Olly went; abjectly humbled, and blinded
by tears of shame and contrition, yet almost
happy in the wonderful relief the confession of his
fault and the vindication of his friend had brought
to his tortured conscience.
I was sure he never took it he heard Miss
Amy Canfield exclaim with glad vehemence; but
he knew that she was speaking of Percival, not of


THERE was no longer any question as to what
should be done with the contribution the boarder's

had made up to reward the humane efforts of
Olly's rescuers.
They had collected ten dollars. To this Mr.
Hatville begged the privilege of adding ten more.
"For finding my watch-and for my treatment
of the finder he said.
But Percival couldn't bear that anything like that
should cloud the great joy with which the welcome
light of truth filled his soul.
"I don't want any reward for anything!" he
exclaimed. "I can't take your money!" And he
pushed back Mr. Hatville's contribution across the
hall table. "But I 've no right to refuse anything
intended for my friends; and, if the ladies insist, I
will take their money and give it to Moke and Poke."
Moke and Poke said Amy, with a laugh.
"What names! "
"They are my partners, on the beach. The
Elder boys- Moses and Porter," Perce explained.
The ladies did insist; and, with light feet and a
lighter heart, he hastened down the sandy path to
the shore.
The twins, who had resumed their work, were
inclined to show a little resentment of their part-
ner's prolonged absence. They wished to know
what "that man" wanted of him, and where he
had been all the while.
"I've been getting a reward for you!" said
Perce gayly.
A reward ? cried Moke.
For what? asked Poke.
For rescuing Olly," Perce replied, openinghis
hand and showing the money. "Here it is,-
with the compliments of the lady boarders at Mrs.
Oh ejaculated Moke.
Ho aspirated Poke.
"We did n't want any pay for that! said both
But it took your time, and interrupted your
work; and it really seemed a pleasure for them to
give you something. Oily 's a great favorite up
there," added Percival.
Five dollars shouted Moke, brandishing his
share above his head.
"Five dollars shrieked Poke, capering wildly
on the sand.
They had never in their lives been so rich. But
where was Percival's share?
They offered me ten dollars-or at least the
man did. But I did n't take it. The truth is, boys,
-- And, after a little hesitation, Perce told the
story of the watch that he had found and restored
to the owner.
And it was Oily that borrowed and lost it ? "
exclaimed Moke.
"And never told us ejaculated Poke.




Why did n't you tell us you found it ? cried
both together.
As we were partners,- going halves in every-
thing,-I did n't know-" Perce blushed and
stammered I did n't know but you'd want your
share of that, too "
Oh, nonsense !" said Poke.
Of course we shouldn't! said Moke.
So that matter was settled,- far more easily and
satisfactorily, Perce thought, than might have
been the case if no owner for the watch had been
"Come !" said Moke, looking again at his
money before pocketing it; we 've done enough
work for one day."
"Never mind about hauling any more kelp,"
said Poke.
We '11 have the fun of coming again to-mor-
row," said both together.
Perce himself was quite willing to go home to
dinner. So, having dumped their last load of sea-
weed (which would not be much more than a third
of a load when, after it was well rotted, they should
haul it to the farms), they filled up the cart-box
with driftwood. Upon that they laid their blank-
ets; and presently climbed up to the top themselves,
after bidding good-bye to the beach and the bright
sea, and turning the oxen into the wild woodland

Then, mounted comfortably upon their loaded
cart, they drove back through beautiful sunshine
and shade, making the woods ring once more with
their voices in glad chorus:

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 "

Although he had no money to show, Percival
was not the least contented of the three with the
result of their work.
He had done something for his friend Oily, and
for Mr. Hatville; and no reward could have given
him quite so pure a satisfaction as the feeling that
he had done it without reward.
Moreover, as he had liberated the watch and
chain from their slimy environment of rockweed
and kelp, even so his conscience and his good
name had been freed from the entanglement that
at one time threatened to drag them into a hideous
abyss. To have kept his honor unsullied was a
greater joy than the possession of many watches.
Yet I can not say that Perce Bucklin was'made
very unhappy when, not long after, he received
by express from Boston a small package, which,
on being opened, was found to contain a very
pretty silver Swiss watch, and a card bearing Mr.
Hatville's name. It was certainly a gratifying
token of that gentleman's confidence and regard.






O YOU not think that
the garments of iron,
of steel, or of bronze
in which the soldiers
of five hundred years
ago rode to the wars
must have been very
uncomfortable? Look
I 1at the "effigies," as

opposite page, rep-
resenting four royal
2 knights. These colos-
OIL sal statues, with those

noted warriors of his-
tory and romance, stand, a silent guard,
around the magnificent tomb of the German
Emperor Maximilian I., at Innspruck, in the
Tyrol. These four mail-clad figures represent four
of the bravest and most redoubtable of the knights
of old--Arthur of Britain, Theodeobert of Bur-
gundy, Ernest of Austria, and Theodoric, king of
the Ostrogoths. The armor is rich in ornament and
decoration, but I have nota doubt that King Arthur
felt much more cool and comfortable when he was
eating that famous "bag pudding," which Mother
Goose assures us the queen "did make" for him,
than when he rode out from Camelot in the splen-
didly decorated iron war-clothes that are shown in
the picture; and I am very sure, too, that the brave
Theodoric was much happier and more at ease
when as a boy he practiced Greek gymnastics
at the Court of Constantinople, where he was held
as hostage by the Emperor, than he did when,
years after, he rode to the siege of Ravenna with
that ridiculous iron kettle on his head and weighed
down with the iron rosettes and jacket that we see
in his picture before us.
But, while these metal clothes, uncomfortable,
hot, and heavy though they were, have been a
necessary style of wearing apparel ever since the
forgotten ages when men began to quarrel and to
strive, it was not until a comparatively recent date
that warriors rode to battle wholly incased in armor.
The Assyrians and Egyptians, the Greeks and
Romans of the earlier days were satisfied with such
partial protection as would shield the most vulner-
able parts of their bodies-helmets, or head-cov-
erings; greaves, or shin-protectors; and the short
oval breastplates that guarded heart and ribs.

The stout old Roman legionaries, bronzed and
scarred with exposure and fighting, laughed rather
contemptuously at the fresh levies which, when
sent into the field, wished to shield their bodies
as much as possible. Indeed, the first use of the
word armor, as we understand it, is found in the
works of a military writer of the latter part of the
fourth century A. D., one T. Vegetius Renatus,
who refers to armor as a defense worn only by the
young troops; so you see that, after all, the boys
were the first to incase themselves in armor and
were the earliest of the knights.
But gradually, as men grew more careful of
their bodies, they increased the safety-coverings;
breastplate and greave and helmet grew into coat-
of-mail, and suit of plate, until in the days of the
knights-the thirteenth, fourteenth and fifteenth
centuries-the men who couched lance or wielded
sword and met in the terrific battle-shock seemed
to be men of iron, whatever they really were
beneath their clanging clothes.
Look at the picture (Fig. I, p. 938) of a knight
in a splendid suit of armor, richly engraved. He
lived and fought somewhere about the time of the
heroic Edward of England, whom men, because of
his sable armor, called the Black Prince. This
warrior may have even followed the banner of
Prince Edward; he may have fought with Bruce
at Bannockburn, or against the cause of the peo-
ple and Rienzi at Rome.
Certainly here is an instance in which "dress
makes the man," as the old proverb declares. Not
one of us could recognize the gentleman by his
countenance on a second meeting, for even his face
is concealed behind a decorated visor, or beaver,-
a sort of face-door that works up and down on
well-oiled hinges. The short cloth sack, emblaz-
oned with his crest and worn over his armor, is
the tabard, and from his plumed helmet to his
pointed sollerets, or shoes of iron, he is one mass
of metal. The two knights, alongside, in Fig. 2,
are incased in somewhat less elaborate iron suits,
though they also belong to the age of splendid
In those days of hard hitting with ax and lance,
alike in tournament and in battle, the head and
the breast generally received the stoutest blows
and needed to be the most securely protected.
The head-pieces grouped together on page 939 are
what a merchant nowadays would call an assorted
lot "; the casguetel, or helmet with an iron cape





.,,'"') . I ,l --_ .

S1- II I;
-T'.' -
l u iI \ ,

OW J1~
-l '., '? :o e li
.,.-;~ ~i .-. .I
-!: .
--.i _-_-_

~~ ~ ~ ~ 'L2- "!
"-"~~ ~ -- .. .. ; ,"'

---" . : '

.l I

,' .. ..
,.--- ,\: il



for protecting the back of the neck; the iascinet,
or helmet with a pointed visor, and another just
beneath it that looks like three joints of stove-pipe;
the tilting-helm, used in the tournament or in the
"tilting-field," looking very much like a "high

gradually added to until it became a cuirass, or
iron jacket, laced at the sides. Around the neck
was worn the metal collar, or gorget; the hands
were incased in iron gloves, or gauntlets, some-
times armed with long, saw-like projections; and


hat" of to-day, in iron; the German heaume,
or old Gallic helmet, with the basket-like cage
to shield the face; the plumed burgonet, or old
Burgundian helmet, and the rounded one, some-
times called a morion; and the last of the hel-
mets, the helm and casquetel of the harquebusiers
--those stout old fighters of the seventeenth cent-
ury, who gave and took plenty of hard knocks
in the Dutch wars, or in the ranks of Cromwell's
The breastplate, first worn in front only, was


spurs of varying size and length were attached to
the heels of the curious iron shoes that were known
as sollerets.
Dagger and poniard, mace and lance, bill
and battle-ax were the terrible weapons used by
the gentlemen in the iron clothes to cut and carve,
to pound and pummel, to hack and pierce one
another,- and yet those were called the days of
chivalry, of courtesy, and of courage !
War is always brutal, always terrible; but there
seems something almost cowardly in the custom


OnT T- Tm Al

xI IIYL fRluR A IN) ARAU0..R 939

of those "knights of old" in thus crawling for safety cloth-yard shaft" might not be able to pierce
intosuits of steel and iron, while the poor people the Milan armor, but a steel-headed "bolt" or
who followed their banners to the wars vassals "quarrel," sped with terrific force from the notch



of a crossbow, has
brought many a mail-
clad knight to grief, as
William, the Red King
of England, and Richard,
called the Lion-heart,
five centuries, the cross-
bow, or arbalist, was a favorite weapon in war
and in the chase, as Mr. Maurice Thompson
has already told you in his interesting Story
of the Arbalist." And many a boy of those
olden days was taught either by the armorer
_l of his father's castle, or by that same knightly

and serfs, archers and bill-
men -had nothing but leather
jerkins and iron head-pieces
(often not even these) to pro-
tect them from the charge and
thrust of the mail-clad knights.
And the funny side of it all is SPURS__
that sometimes knights thus cov-
ered with plate, like modern ironclads,
would fight all day without either being hurt. GAUNTLETS
In one of the Italian battles of the sixteenth cent-
ury, two armies of knights sheathed in the best MilanOLLERE
armor fought from nine in the morning until four in
the afternoon without one valorous warrior being
killed or even being wounded. Do you wonder that
Cervantes made such sport of those men in kettles
and stove-pipe, as he did in his marvelous story of
"Don Quixote"?
But, as necessity is called the "mother of invention,"
weapons, in time, were made that iron-cased warriors /ANGAU MTLET. -
feared even more than mace or battle-ax. The archer's
*See ST. NICHOLAS for September, 1882.









father, thebaron and lord
of the manor, how to
string the bow and how
to lay the bolt.
SThe battle of Water-
loo, in which the iron-
sheathed cuirassiers of
Napoleon went down in
defeat before the soldiers
of Wellington, was the
death-blow to defensive
S As gunpowder came
into use in battle, and
science improved the
methods of warfare, the
Iron coats were found to
be of little avail as a pro-
tection against shot and
shell. Men grew braver
as they dropped the heavy
plates behind which they
had hidden for centuries.
And now they march un-
protected by iron clothes,
depending for victory
upon their excellent drill
LANCES, AS, AND and discipline and upon
thedeadlyfire-arms which
science has developed and perfected.
But, better yet, more helpful than casque or
cuirass, lance or bill or battle-ax, more effective
even than the ponderous Krupp cannon, the

deadly Gatling gun, or the swift-loading Martini
rifle, is the spirit of justice, of kindly courtesy, and
of real courage, which now settles quarrels between
men and nations. Argument, arbitration, and
mutual concession are doing more to civilize the
world than all the cruel war-weapons, and these
kindlier methods render more and more useless
the arms and armor of the long ago, which
sprang, not from the friendships, but from the
hatreds and passions of men.
But breastplate, helm, and sword, and all the
knightly accouterments have served their purpose
in the world's advancement, and as they look down

at us from the walls of library or museum could
tell us many a story of daring and of valor in the
brave days of old."



NED picked in the garden, one morning bright,
A buttercup, fresh and yellow;
And his warm, chubby fingers held it tight,
For it pleased the little fellow.

But soon it drooped its satiny head,
(Such a sorry trick to serve us !)
" Oh, give it some water, Mamma! cried Ned;
I think it is getting nervous! "



SUCH an ill-behaved man she never had seen! And a mouth where sweet kisses seemed coming
When she wanted a picture, pray, what did he and going,
mean And two merry eyes with their fun overflowing
By hiding his head ? And, under her breath, Were caught by the sunlight.-Now see There
She whispered: "Mamma, is he frightened to she stands
death ? With a flower on her breast and her doll in her
She wondered and wondered when would he hands,
begin- Her bonny face framed in her fair, waving curls-
When, presto that instant a round, dimpled chin, The sweetest and dearest of dear little girls!

ilt -_ --
f: ." ^^;



ONE evening, from a shaded spot, Then spoke a member of the band:
The Brownies viewed a level lot This game extends throughout the land;
Where clubs from different cities came No city, town, or village 'round,
To play the nation's favorite game. But has its club, and diamond ground,
With bases marked, and paths between,
SAnd seats for crowds to view the scene.
k : ,, *I III i4 I... I...
1 h ; ',, i.. .. : .: ,. r ...r .:.. .
L s,

III j0
I l.i Iii ii -- j. i li. ii.

". .. .. 1 "1 1- '1 1...: 1..-:1 A : ..." ", ,

.-.-.V.:.,; 1..:;
-LVt It ,1* t, -*...

.1J~-- '4;Lc14~

Y) /QV.


Or stops the pitcher's curves and throws.
To know the place such goods to find,
Is quite enough for Browny-kind !"

When hungry bats came forth to wheel
'R o u n ., .. ,,,., i ; ,. .: r1 -.., : ,,. ., .
The c...,,,,- -.,,,. ,,.: _:..,.,r uh :r,, ,
T o w c,. l: 1t 1 tlt -, .-[ -, .. ,,,.
A n d s. .-.. it ,.: L_. L .... ,, '. ,: : ..I.
A S u cc i ., n1 .. i:. -_1i LI,. ,.:',, i,,I
A g o c ,il ..' I .. I..,. ,. I ... __

At left or right or center-field,
To pitch, to catch, or bat to wield,
Or else as short-stop standing by
To catch a grounder or a fly.

Took extra implements along,
In case of mishap on the way,
Or loss, or breakage during play.
The night was clear, the road was good,
And soon within the field they stood.

Then games were played without a pause,
According to the printed laws.
There, turn about, each took his place
At first or third or second base,

Soon every corner of the ground
Its separate set of players found.
A dozen games upon the green,
With ins and outs might there be seen;
The umpires noting all with care
To tell if hits were foul or fair,
The strikes and balls" to plainly shout,
And say if men were safe or out,"
And give decision just and wise
When knotty questions would arise.



But many Brownies thought it best
To leave the sport and watch the rest;
And from the seats or fences high
They viewed the scene with anxious eye,


They might have borne some points away,
To put in use a future day;
For "double plays" and balls well curved
And "base hits" often were observed,

And never failed, the contest through,
To render praise when praise was due.
While others, freed from games on hand,
In merry groups aside would stand,
And pitch and catch with rarest skill
To keep themselves in practice still.

And had our champion players found
A chance to view that pleasure-ground,

While "errors" were but seldom seen
Through all the games upon that green.

Before the flush of morn arose
To bring their contests to a close,
The balls and bats in every case
Were carried back and put in place;
And when the Brownies left the store,
All was in order as before.

VOL. XIII.-60.




T is a curious fact that, al-
though breathing is a very
simple and necessary ac-
complishment, there are a
great many people who
have forgotten how to do it
in the best way. If you will
watch a perfectly healthy
baby when it is asleep, you
will see that its shoulders
are quite low and even, that
its mouth is usually closed,
and that it is breathing
comfortably from its lower chest. We know that
the lungs are the chief purifiers of the blood ; but
to perform their duty satisfactorily the air-cells of
the lungs must be filled with filtered air and they
must have plenty of room in which to work,- so
we are, on the whole, well satisfied with the baby's
method of breathing. In fact, we have reason to
believe that the system has been taught by Nature
herself; and when we can get Nature's methods
at first hand, it is seldom worth while to try to
improve upon them very much.
But when the baby grows up, if it chance to be
a girl, her clothing is usually such that it inter-
feres with the free action of muscles that are con-
cerned in enlarging the cavity of the chest, so that
the lower part of the lungs, which should be busy
taking in their share of oxygen to make the blood
fresh and bright, are seldom used, and the blood
goes away from the lungs only partly freed from
its impurities, while the lungs themselves do not
get exercise enough for their own good.
But tight dressing, though the most serious
hindrance to the habit of good breathing, is not
the only obstacle. There are careless ways of sit-
ting and standing that draw the shoulders forward
and cramp the chest; and it is as hard for the
lungs to do good work when the chest is narrow
and constricted as it is for a closely bandaged
hand to set a copy of clear, graceful penmanship.
Then there are lazy ways of breathing, and one-
sided ways of breathing, and the particularly bad
habit of breathing through the mouth. Now the
nose was meant to breathe through, and it is mar-
velously arranged for filtering the impurities out
of the air, and for changing it to a suitable tem-
perature for entering the lungs. The mouth
has no such apparatus, and when air is swal-

lowed through the mouth instead of breathed
through the nose, it has an injurious effect upon the
lungs. A story is told of an Indian who had a per-
sonal encounter with a white man much his superior
in size and strength, and who was asked afterward
if he was not afraid.. "Me never afraid of man
who keeps mouth open," was the immediate reply.
Indeed, breathing through the mouth gives a fool-
ish and weak expression to the face, as you may
see by watching any one asleep with the mouth
It is well to establish the habit of deep breath-
ing if it does not already exist, but, in addition
to this, the reserve air which is left in the lungs
after an ordinary expiration should be expelled
and the lungs thoroughly ventilated at least twice
every day. First, then, see to it that the air
in the room is as pure and fresh as out-of-door air
can make it. Then, with all tight and superflu-
ous clothing removed, lie flat on the back and,
with the mouth firmly closed, take a full, deep
breath. Hold it eight or ten seconds, and then let
it out. Take another, and yet another breath in
the same way.
After that, take a breath into the lungs as slowly
as possible, beginning to fill them at their lowest
extremities, and inhaling gradually until they are
filled to their full capacity, when the air should be
exhaled in the same slow and steady manner in
which it was taken in. Repeat this exercise three
or four times. Now watch and see if the shoul-
ders are kept drawn down and immovable while
the air is inhaled, as they should be, or if they
are drawn up, and are thus robbing the dia-
phragm and muscles of forced breathing of half
their exercise.
When you have taken this movement again to
make sure that the shoulders are in good position,
throw your arms vertically over your head and
take another quick, full inspiration, swinging the
arms rapidly to the sides close to the body and
back again over the head. Swing the arms up and
down four times on the same breath, and repeat
the exercise three or four times.
After this, it is a good plan to stand erect with
the arms horizontal at the sides, and vigorously
clap the hands from that position over the head
a few times. When taking such movements in an
erect position, always keep the chin two or three
inches back of the vertical.




A few such exercises as these, for five or ten
minutes at night and morning, will promote re-
freshing sleep and give increased vitality for duties
and occupations of the day; and it may be noted

in conclusion that an anemic or low condition
of the blood is seldom found where there is an
established habit of full, deep breathing with the
mouth closed.

x;-_. , .. .. B

; I'
_- ....- ..',..




e J'APt&
-j I S

fl A ni AP C

yI pT C -',
-^ ^ ^j~- K- ""'

e tlird cn6s fnremn ever the sea:
ve been\ to o l. l-.iw lr\ .l-'^ ni: '.
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r m r the tierr tl.-, -r: M r ,: t : I j'.-.

V eu queelkr bIbil>: laoc. thLe ,.
T ellus, oh ltil : L ca-. ;t bc .
.Aren't Japan c; b.ol:), cloth t, e oo' tioht
)Dont Japai-1CiC: b ..-. \.I. ,p n I1 htr

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J.apanes tc.:th : c ,-on.: rlru,:. '...',thoul r,,, _c'- ,
fr Japanese : il i re-n .:,:I n t o rl n' L
IO6nt Japanese pins have points that pr;cK ?
vx7ont Japanese colic make little folk sicK?

'ou queer little bo'bg, if secret there be
Sicd it, oh, Serd it v wy over the Se' !
- ere is no such secret. JFar oft in
_.ome bca~bis cn c ry, and. they'll

prove that
they can




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JL~iLE 1* dbcing wor4s and pictures
T chisuaint litlte $it of a maa
nifistecL 1.Lsuilg~ a usiuR2
UrIfti it wa. Knowmq .
soy 5ome hk ka.L PowL-3,
Out othlt ,gai$cL vailed, For 'JAPAN.

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'r~riL~ U ';I 'is~

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EVER so many days ago, away back in June before any of the hot days
came, ST. NICHOLAS gave the Very Little Folk some riddles to guess. And
now here are some more. These riddles, like the others, have little pictures,
and if you look well at the pictures, you can guess the riddles. But
nobody more than seven years old must try to guess them.
First of all is a riddle about Little Tommy Tinderpeg. You must have
seen him often. He makes a bright light when he burns his shoe.

And now here is a riddle about another queer fellow, "Black-a-middle
Dick." He is longer and stronger than Tommy Tinderpeg. And he leaves
a black track behind him when he travels. You can guess who he is. Many
little boys and girls know him very well, and have helped him to travel.

H lot
*: hxk'q
0 5~



Next comes a good riddle about a dozen bold riders. Have you never
seen the funny little fellows all riding one nag ? When the wind blows, it
is not easy for them to keep their places, and if it blows very hard, some
of the little riders may fall off. But most of them ride well and hold on tight.

ey ridewithour br
lr sirrubs or sbur
Sick bo tbeir s6dd
ike so mrny burrs

Here, last of all, is another Tommy. He is not at all like Tommy Tinder-
peg. He has a round, pretty face, and he talks fast and keeps saying the
same thing over and over, all the time. You like to look at him, and to hold
him up to your ear to hear what he says. You can guess who Tommy
Locket is, just by his name. So this is the easiest riddle of all.


T.-. -'-

-- *.-' "-.

.- ... . .- .,..


I 'M told, my friends, that a beautiful red flower,
known as "painter's-brush," abounds in Colorado.
As it lies on the grass or leans against the stones
and fences, it looks in shape and color precisely as
if some painter had dipped the soft part of his brush
in his brightest paint, and thrown it carelessly
down. In midsummer these painter's-brushes are
to be seen by the thousand. Now, as we look
about us here in my meadow to-day, it seems as
if a million painter's-brushes had been at work,
high and low. Not only brushes dipped in red,
but brushes rich with yellows, browns, grays, pinks,
and deep dark crimsons. Ah, but it's a fine piece
of color, and the painting has been gloriously done !
And though I 'm only a Jack-in-the-Pulpit, great
thoughts stir within me at the sight.
But now let us take up the subject of

ONE afternoon, not long ago, the Little School-
ma'am lay in a hammock, looking up at the leaves.
How perfectly still they are !" she said to her-
self. Not a leaf moves !"
She was lying under an oak tree, a sturdy,
steady kind of a tree, as you all know.
Look at that tree yonder!" said one of the
prettiest girl-scholars, pointing to a Norway poplar,
the leaves of which are hung on long slender stems.
Lo, and behold, it was all in a quiver !
Oh, that shakes just for the fun of it! replied
the Little School-ma'am, "for there is hardly a
breath of air stirring. It is perfectly quiet."
The Deacon happened by just then, and over-
heard her last words. He stopped and asked her
if she had any idea how difficult it was to get a per-
fectly quiet day? Whereupon, she owned that she
thought it would be impossible.
"Well," he replied, "there was once an Italian

named Guiglielmini, who wanted to try an experi-
ment in which it was necessary that some balls
should fall through perfectly still air from a certain
height. So in August, 1791, he went up on a
tower in Bologna, and tied the balls to the top
with long, silken threads. Then he waited for a
perfectly still day. Sometimes the air was quiet,
but the tower would slightly tremble, and at other
times the tower was steady, but the air was in
motion. At last, in February, 1792, there came
a day when the air and the tower were both still,
and he climbed up as softly as a cat, and gently
set his threads on fire, and down dropped the
balls "
And what was the experiment?" asked the
Little School-ma'am.
"Oh, it had something to do with the motion
of the earth! said the Deacon, as he walked away,
THAT reminds me, bythe way, of a funny
rhyme sent to the Little School-ma'am by a friend
of hers, Miss E. L. Sylvester. Here it is:

A clever old man of Montrose
Said: I 'll balance my cane on my nose ;
For so shall I prove
That the world does n't move
As a great many people suppose."


A LITTLE girl has sent you a question. She
says she found three pretty brownish shells in the
woods, one day, and she took them home to her
little brother. They looked, she says, "very like
similar shells that often are found on the sea-
shore." Well, she put them on the sunny piazza,
and ran to find Bobby.- And now you shall have
the rest of the story in her own words:
Bobby was eating bread and molasses, and so
he ran out of the kitchen all sticky. When we
went together to look at the shells, lo, and be-
hold the shells were gone They had walked
around the corner of the piazza. And, oh Jack,
what do you think ? We watched them, and they
kept on walking And they had n't any legs !
Now this is a true story, dear Jack, and I want
you to tell it to little boys and girls younger than
Bobby and me (or Bobby and I, whichever is right),
and see if they know how those shells walked, and
what kind of shells they were, and if any other
little boys and girls ever 'fund any of the same
sort in their woods oir dc- ,ens.'
Your little :, n: id, 'JAMESETTA C.

I take up my pen again to say that we all know,
of course, that snakes move along the ground with-
out legs. But they do that motion entirely with
their own insides, don't they? Those shells couldn't
possibly move as snakes do.
For fear you may think-my name is strange, I
will tell you that I am named after my grandfather,
only James would n't do for a girl."





A WISE bird of my acquaintance, who has trav-
eled far and wide, told me, not long ago, of a queer
sunshade that was invented for the benefit of the
British soldiers in the Soudan. (I don't know
where that is, I 'm sure, and my bird was in too
great a hurry to explain. But who cares ? I know
I can trust you young geographers to clear up any
mystery of that sort.)
Well, as to the sunshade, my bird-friend said that
the upright parts are simply light bamboo sticks.
They are fastened to the shoulders of the wearer,
and they support at the top a curved awning
made of paper and painted green inside.


"But it would look so queer! I said. "Would
anybody have the courage to wear it?"--when
from the grass near my pulpit up popped an old
raven, whose specialties are ancient history, scare-
crows, and eavesdropping.
Don't you know," he croaked, "that the man
who first carried an umbrella was ridiculed and
hooted at? "
That raven, my dears, narrowly escaped a
withering reply. But luckily I remembered some-
thing the Little School-ma'am read aloud, one
sunny day, to a group of boys and girls, as they
stopped to rest in my meadow. And what she
read was the story of that very man the original
umbrella-carrier. And she was reading from ST.
NICHOLAS itself!
The old croaker was right! So I assumed my
most dignified air, and gave in.
But did that satisfy him? Bless you, no Be-
fore he left, I had to admit that this new sunshade
was merely a parasol carried on the shoulders in-
stead of in the hand; that it was lighter than the
common sunshade; that it left both hands free

for sketching, playing ball, or what not; and that
the old raven night live to see every civilized boy
or girl walking along on sunny days with a cupola
of this sort over his or her unabashed head.-
Between ourselves, my dears, you need n't yet
count upon this last as an up-and-down future cer-
tainty. I may take it back when I 've had time
to recover from the raven's lecture.
By the way, there 's one good thing about that
raven,-his memory.

TALKING of queer things, here comes a queer
jumble from a young fellow who says he lives in
Maine by the broad.blue .main; and that there 's
nothing like using the rod and the "line-upon-
line" method when you find a school of fish that
wont go to school; and-
Well, no Jack-in-the-Pulpit can make anything
out of such stuff as that But perhaps some of
you clever youngsters can understand it. He
sends these rhymes, too, which he calls


OH, shun the ocean big with fate!
Nor strive to make the free strait straight.

Sauce, if thou wilt, the river's source,
And brook no babbling brook, of course;

But keep the treacherous bay at bay.
(It's tide no man hath tied, they say.)

And never see the midway sea,
But waive the wave that waits for thee !

DEAR MR. JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: I think it sounds rather saucy
to say just Jack, to the preacher. My Papa is a pulpit man, too,
and people call him Mr. Rose, but they leave off "in the pulpit,"
because he does not stay there all the time. He can tell me nearly
everything I want to know; but there is one thing he is not sure
about, and that is how co pronounce Fauntleroy. Should it be
Faunt-Le-Roy ? Or should the middle syllable be like the last syllable
of the word little? I love the little lord so much, 1 want to know
his name exactly. Your friend, HORACE ROSE.

Faunt-le-roy is correct. The vowel is sounded
in the middle syllable.
I 'm always in my pulpit, dear Horace, but I 'm
not always preaching. One eloquent sermon, how-
ever, I feel called upon to deliver at this present
moment, for it concerns little Lord Fauntleroy.-
[Have n't I heard all about him fiom the Little
School-ma'am and the scholars of the red school-
house, and, for that matter, from every boy and
girl I know?]-Well, the dear little lord is my
text. In fact, he 's the sermon, too. So I need
say no more except to publicly announce from my
pulpit, with all due solemnity, that he is a boy
after your Jack's own heart. And to every young-
ster among you, dearly beloved, I say, Earl or no
earl,- go thou and be like'him !"





DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am reading "Lord Fauntleroy," and
like it very much, and I hope that the next number will be that the
Earl will want the mother to Lord Fauntleroy to come up and live
with them. I remain, yours truly, K. W. S.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I like you so much that I wish you would
come every week instead of every month. I like the story of Lit-
tle Lord Fauntleroy" best of all. But you must not let him lose
his title. M. C. W.
During the last few months, many of those who have been so
deeply interested in "Little Lord Fauntleroy" have formed their
own eager opinions of just how that beautiful story could, would, or
should end. But all such readers, including K. W. S. and M. C. W..
will agree that in the concluding chapters, printed this month, Mrs.
Burnett has anticipated or fully satisfied their utmost desires.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We are three little girls just the same age,
for we are triplets. We look and dress just alike, and our big old
brother calls us the "three little maids from school." We have a
pony, a big dog, and a little cat, but we have no little boy to play
with, and we wish that little Lord Fauntleroy was a really, truly
boy and could come and play with us. We send our love to you,
dear ST. NICHOLAS, and we hope that this, our very first letter,
will be printed to surprise our dear Mamma and Papa, and to spite
our big brother, who says nobody would print such a silly thing. Your
loving little maids, Rosy F., DAISY F., PANSY F.
Here it is in print, dear little maids,--with ST. NICHOLAS'S com-
pliments to you and the big brother.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am nine years old; I have three sisters,
two older and one younger than I. Susie, the eldest, is a great girl
for reading; Helen, the next, is very fond of dolls,-she has six; but
Edna, the younger, is a little rogue and likes to play ball with the
boys best. We have taken you long before I can remember. I
enjoy thestory of Little Lord Fauntleroy very much. Is ita good
long story ? I hope it is. I went to see the game of base-ball on the
19th between the Chicagos and Detroits. I enjoy playing base-ball
very much; although I am only nine years old, I think I can pitch a
curve. I hope you will publish this. Your faithful reader,

EDITOR OF Sr. NICHOLAS: I should like to correct two errors
that in some way have crept into my article on Fishes and their
Young," in the June ST. NICHOLAS. The two fishes figured onpage
601 are described under the cut as being from the Sea of Galilee, and
the impression given that they belong to the genus Ofkiocepalus.
They really belong to the genus Chromnis, and are found in Lake
Tiberias. On page 602, the description of the sea-horse-(" These
have a perfect pouch, into which the infant fishes are taken as soon
as hatched"-is wrong; it should read, The eggs are taken into the
pouch as soon as laid and kept until hatched.
Very truly yours, C. F. HOLDER.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have been reading Little Lord Fauntle-
roy," and it is one of the very few stories by which I am perfectly
fascinated. I am going to write a story myself, sometime, although
I have tried more than once, and they got so stale I could n't finish
them. But I am writing one now, and I am going to finish it, how-
ever stale it may get, or die in the attempt.
Whenever I read a real nice story. I just sit and wonder how any
person can ever think of so many things to happen in such a mys-
terious yet every-day kind of way, and come out in the end all
cleared up, and just as plain as though it had really happened I
Then my wonder grows into admiration, and my admiration into
awe, my awe into actual reverence, and then I throw down my book
and give it up as past understanding, and go outdoors and play. I
am on pins and needles to know whether Ceddle'' was the real
Lord Fauntleroy or not; but he must be,-he's too good not to be !
Next Tuesday I shall be fourteen. I take the whole care of the
horse, and, of course, of the barn, too, and as father and mother are

in Brooklyn, I am Papa! It is very wearing to have such a multitude
of responsibilities, but I think that I shall be able to keep my family
(one member of which is an unruly little girl of twenty) straight
until my father comes to take the burden off my shoulders.
Your venerable and careworn friend,

ST. LouIS, Mo.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am one of your little readers, nine years
old. My sister began taking ST. NICHOLAS in 1876, and, though
sheis now grown, papa still takes it for me. I have never written to
you before, but I enjoy the Letter-box very much, and especially
the letters about the pets the children have. I would like to tell
you about three pets we had. They were a black-and-tan dog
named Cricket, a Maltese kitten named Tiny, and a pet chicken
named Dick. They played together, and ate and slept together.
The dog had a rug on the side porch, and they would lie down and
cuddle up beside him, and all sleep soundly. Morning, noon, and
night we set a pan of milk out, and the three pets would gather
around and all drink at once. At play they would roll over each
other, and never, at any time, did they disagree or seem to be tired
of each other. The kitten and chicken are both dead now, but we
have the little dog yet; and he knows a great many tricks, and
seems to understand whatever he hears us say about him, and al-
ways minds what we tell him. If my letter is not too long, I hope
you will print it. I love your magazine very much, and am always
impatient for it to come. Your little friend, M. C. S.

With the foregoing letter came also a letter from M. C. S.'s
mother, conveying such kind and hearty words that ST. NICHOLAS
can not refrain from printing it also:
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I wish I could tell you what a blessing
your magazine has been to our children, of whom the eldest, now
almost nineteen years old, enjoys it as much as her little sister
of nine. I have found it a great assistance in amusing and instruct-
ing my little ones, and I am sure they will never feel old enough to
give it up.
We wish you a long and prosperous life, and hope you may for
many years to come send the same joy and delight to the hearts of
children everywhere thatyou have in years past, and to ours.
Respectfully, MRS. S. E. S.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have been takingyou for nearly five years,
but I never wrote you a letter before. I think little Lord Fauntleroy
is the sweetest little fellow I ever read about. Every time I get a
new number of Sr. NICHOLAs, I sit down on the rug by mamma and
read Little Lord Fauntleroy out loud for mamma and my little
sister to hear. Mamma and papa both like it ever so much. I liked
"Davy and the Goblin" very much, too, and was sorry when it
ended. But if I were to go on telling you how many of your stories
I liked, I would make you so tired you would never put my letter
in print. I am eleven years old, and I live out in the suburbs of
Memphis. I sometimes get to studying out every one of the
Brownies' faces, and whenever I do, it makes me laugh heartily.
Your faithful reader, E. P. P.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We have taken you for four years,
and are very glad when you come to us every month. We live on
an island, and are not very far away from Montauk Point, L. 1.
The island is very beautiful, and of about three thousand five hun-
dred acres.
When we drive in the woods, we watch for the lovely deer, which
are wild and leap away when they hear the slightest sound.
We each have our riding-horse, and enjoy it very much here.
We like the Letter-box very much, and enjoy the letters from
Europe. My sister and I have crossed the Atlantic six times. Last
winter we spent in Germany studying. I liked the stories of Art
and Artists and From Bach to Wagner very much. Hoping
my letter is not too long, and that you will find a corner for it in the
"Letter-box," as it is my first, Very truly yours,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have heard people say that no one is
perfect, but I guess they did not know you, for the only fault that
any one could possibly find with you is that you don't come often



enough. You were so much company to me all last winter For I
live.at a summer resort, and the children all go away in the fall, and
there is no school near, and my sister and 1 have to be taught by a
governess. I forgot to be lonesome while you were telling me such
nice stories.
I am ten years old.
I hope you will live to be a thousand years old, and make every
boy and girl that gets acquainted with you as happy as you make
me. Good-bye, dear, good friend.
Yours forever, FRANK J. E.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I wonder if you ever had a letter from Ire-
land. I have an uncle in America who sends you to me; we all
like you very much The story of "' Little Lord Fauntleroy" is so
nice. I have one sister and one brother; also a cousin who lives
with us. I do hope this will be printed, as this is my first letter to a
magazine. I remain, your constant reader,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little Tennessee girl, and I live in
Maury Co. Mother gave you to me last year for a Christmas pres-
ent. Papa took you for me this year; and I think that "Little Lord
Fauntleroy" is the best thing of all. My little brother is four years
old; he likes the Brownies best. He calls one of our Jersey calves
" Dhonabar," after a horse told about in ST. NICHOLAS. I have a
beautiful little brown pony. His name is Bun. 1 am eight years old,
Your little friend, IRENE M. C.

BY an error in filing, several letters concerning curve-pitching were
overlooked two months ago, and so they failed to appear with the
others in the August Letter-box." But as the friendly correspond-
ents who sent them have taken great pains to explain their theories, it
would be unjust to withhold the letters and diagrams from the thou-
sands of boy-readers who are interested in the vexed questions of
how and why a ball curves. Some of these letters, therefore, are
presented here; the remaining two or three will appear in next
month's Letter-box."
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: May I have a word with your readers on
that vexed subject, curve-pitching? Though I am not one of your
subscribers. I have a younger brother who has been one for several
years, and who also pitches for an amateur club here. Through him I
have verified for myself the fact that a ball will curve in the direction
in which it is rotating; i. e., it will curve to the right, or "in," if it
rotate in the direction of the hands ofa watch, and vice versa. In
this, I think, any careful observer of a curving ball will agree with
Now, all will admit, I think, that if it were possible to throw a ball
in a straight-line without any rotation whatever, there would be a
cushion of air of greater density than the surrounding atmosphere
exactly in front of the ball, and a partial vacuum behind it. Nor
would this cushion of air have definite limits, but it would thin out
gradually as it streams over the sides of the ball, thus (Fig. i):
But now, suppose the ball be
C rotating rapidly to the right, in
A; the direction of the hands of a
watch. The sides of the ball, as
they rotate, must carry by friction
FIG. I. some of the surrounding air with
them. That is, the point b (Fig.
2), as the ball rotates, will tend to carry air from its present loca-
tion around to d, and so with any other point on the ball in propor-
tion as it is on or near the equator of rotation.
But when each point on the ball's
equator reaches the point c with its
load of air,it meets with resistance (
produced by this cushion of air in
front of the ball, and, in order to pass :- -'
on, must leave its load behindit. In FIG. 2.
other words the air carried around in
the direction b c d becomes massed against the cushion in front, and
the cushion is thickened at and around the point c. And, on the
other hand, each point on the equator tends to carry the air from the
right-hand side of the cushion, the point c', and consequently, to
decrease the density or thickness of the cushion at that point. So
that we soon have the cushion of air not exactly in front of the ball,
but somewhat to the left of front; thus (Fig. 3) :
Now, since action is always equal
r--.'.,a to reaction, the cushion of air must
/~ _' push back against the ball just as
hard as the ball pushes against it.
S And since the cushion is thickest
' where the combined forces of the
FIG. 3. ball are greatest, the cushion must

push back hardest in the direction of a line drawn through the thick-
est part of the cushion and the center of the ball; i. e., in the line a, b,
Fig. 3, a direction against that of the onward motion of the ball, and
to the right of it.
Finally, ifat any instant we repre-
sent the force of the ball and its direc- / .1
tion by the line A, B (Fig. 4), and the --
backward push of the cushion and its /
direction by the line A, C, then, ac- c
cording to the law of physics, that, FIG. 4.
"if two forces act on a point, and if
lines be drawn from that point, representing the forces in magni-
tude and direction, and on these lines, as sides, a parallelogram be
constructed, their resultant will be represented in magnitude and
direction by the diagonal which passes through that point," the
line A, D will represent the actae actual fore and direction of the ball at
the given instant.
But both the forces, A, B and A, C, are constantly decreasing from
the moment the ball leaves the pitcher's hand, and, moreov er, the
force A, B decreases more rapidly than the force A, C, inasmuch as
A, B is acting against the resistance of the air plus the attraction of
gravity, while A, C is acting against the resistance of the air alone.
Consequently, the direction of A, D is being constantly changed and
away from A, B, and becomes a curve, instead of a straight or broken
line. This curve will obviously have the direction, A, D (Fig. 5),
or to the right, which is the direction in which a ball rotating to the
right will curve.
This reasoning will hold for a ball
A rotating in any direction, so long as
the axis of rotation is, or tends to be,
D at right angles to the line of progres-
FIG. 5 sion. The problem of the drift" of
a projectile from a rifle or rifled cannon
is entirely different, and one I should like to see discussed after this
one of "curving" is settled to your.readers' satisfaction.
I think the above explanation solves the problem as well as ex-
plains all the fallacies of your former correspondents.
Very respectfully, S. P. E.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: In your February number are two letters
about curved pitching: one written presumably by an army officer,
from. Fort Monroe,- the other from Philadelphia, presumably by a
naval officer. The army man states facts, and gives no explanation;
the navy man fails to solve a well-known problem.
In the cays of smooth bores and spherical cannon-balls (round
like a base-ball, only larger), eccentricity, or difference between the
position of the center of figure and center of gravity, or weight, had
a very perceptible effect upon range and accuracy. Placing the
projectile in the gun, with the center of gravity to the right, when
the gun was fired, the projectile or cannon-ball took up a motion
of rotation from left to right, and deviated to the right (Fig. i);
placing it toward the upper part of the bore, the ball rotated from
down up, and deviated upward, or the range was increased (Fig. 2).

"_. --' A
.iG. -- -- ---


-- ? ---------

C. Center o( shot. G. Center of gravity. A. Half ball moving
toward the resisting air. B. Half ball moving away from
the resisting air.

All bodies free to move will follow the line of least resistance. The
force acting upon the ball (the resultant of the forward movement,
and the opposing resistance of the air) will be away from that half
of the ball moving toward the resisting air, as the ball, in its effort to
take up the line of least resistance, is pushed away; no part of it is
retarded. This it what a curve-pitcher" dces.
A billiard ball having received a strong "draw," or backward rota-
tion, stinking another to one side of the center, makes a very per-
ceptible curve after impact, until the original motion of translation
has been overcome.
All these things were known before curved pitching ever was
spoken of Curved pitching was discovered accidentally, although,
strange to say, many base-ball players were known always to
throw crooked," or with a curve.
Yours truly, E. B. BARRY, Lieut. U. S. N.





DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Having seen so many articles in your Let-
ter-box," on Mr. Harvey's excellent story, "How Science Won
the Game," I thought I would write to you in regard to it.
1 have carefully tried the experiments of throwing the ball so that
it would twist in the directions indicated by the different writers,
and so far but one method has been correct in every particular;
namely, the one given by F. C. J. in the May number.
I wish I had been at the county fair when Arthur Dart's father
offered ten dollars to any one who would successfully perform the
" three stake proof," as I am certain that I should have made that
amount by the operation, whether I had been asked to pitch the
"in" or out" curve, both of which I find equally easy to accom-
The question of why the ball curves after it has left the hand, I
account for as follows: If the "in" curve is to be pitched, the ball
touches the index finger the last thing before leaving the hand, and,
as it does so, the hand is quickly and forcibly clenched, so that the
ball is given a twirling motion. Therefore it curves to the right
(provided it is thrown with the right hand). In the case of the
" out curve, the ball touches the thumb the last thing beforeleav-
ing the hand, and consequently twists to the left, producing the
"out" curve.
The "out" curve is so called because itisa ball thrown to aright-
handed batsman when in position, so that it curves out toward the
end of his bat, while the "in" curve is a ball thrown to a batsman
which curves in toward his body.
The following may be safely ^ .
taken as a rule as to curve-pitch--'-----
ing. If the ball be thrown so it
twists the way shown in Fig. i, FiG. 1.
the ball will curve in; but, if it
be thrown so it will twist as indicated by Fig. 2, the ball will curve out.
Trusting that this explanation
Sis clear and satisfactory, and hop-
S ... .. ing to see it in the Letter-box," I
remain the stanch friend and ad-
mirer of our National Game,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have been reading with much interest the
letters concerning the curving of a base-ball, and would now like to
try my hand at offering an explanation. The theory that I present
is not original, being taken from Wood's Analytical Mechanics," p.
462, but it seems to be the one offering the best explanation of the
actual facts of the case. I will omit what mathematics there is in it,
in order to render it a little more easily understood.
Suppose a ball is moving toward
/ a ~ G, and rotating in the direction shown
S by the arrow. Then the two quad-
-rants A and D will move with equal
S velocities. B and C will also move
with equal velocities, but B and C
will not move as fast as A and D, be-
cause in the case of A and D the velocity due to rotation is to be added
to that of directforward motion, and in the case of B and C it is to
be subtracted. Now the pressure of the air on a moving body varies,
as some power of the velocity of the body; that is, the greater the
velocity, the greater the pressure. The quadrant A moves against
the air with a certain velocity, and the total pressure of the air on
that quadrant will be a force, acting toward the center (if we neglect
friction), which may be represented by the arrow at A. The quadrant
B moves against the air with a less velocity than A; hence the
pressure is less. Let it be represented by the arrow at B. The
quadrant C moves away from the air with a velocity equal to
B; hence the pressure on C must be less than that on B. The
quadrant D moves away from the air with a velocity greater than
that of C; hence the pressure on D will be less than that on C.
Evidently now from this arrangement of forces the resultant force
will lie somewhat in the position shown by the arrow R. This will
tend to force the ball away from the direct line of flight and to curve
it as shown by the dotted line.
Thus we see that it is the pressure of the atmosphere that curves
the ball, and not the friction. The tendency of the latter is to curve
the ball in the opposite direction, but this tendency is unappreciable.
This is where the mistake of your correspondent in the February
number lies; namely, in considering the friction instead of the
pressure. The explanation of F. C. J. in the May number seems
to me more correct. The theory of A Curver" in the May num-
ber, that a ball could be curved more easily in a vacuum than in the
air, is entirely wrong. It violates Newton's first law of motion. "A
body continues in a state of rest or of uniform motion in a straight
line unless acted upon by some external force." In a vacuum there
would be no external force, and the ball would not curve at all. Prof.
Wood, in the article referred to, proves that the more slowly a ball is
thrown with a given velocity of rotation the more will it curve.
Does any one know how this is practically ? Hoping that I have not
taken up too much of your space,
I am, very sincerely yours, J. R. S.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Seeing Mr. Stevens's letter on the curve"
in your April number, I am tempted to reply to it. Unfortunately,
the data on which his theory is founded are incorrect. A ball twisting
to the left will curve, not to the right, but to the left.
May I offer another explanation. The facts are that: I, the
axis of rotation is perpendicular to (or rather the plane of rotation or
twist is parallel to) the plane in which the curve lies; and, 2, tht
the curve is in the same direction as the twist.
When a ball is thrown with sufficient velocity, the air is (as Mr.
Stevens tells us) compacted in front of the ball." When there is lit-
tle or no twist, the resistance of the air is equal on both sides of the
ball, and there is no curve.
Now, if the wind be blowing across the path of the ball, the re-
sistance is unequal, and the ball curves away from the wind; so that
in practice allowance is made for this curve when throwing a ball in
a high wind.
When there is no wind, but the ball is thrown with sufficient
velocity to create considerable resistance from the air, and at the
same time is twisted so as to rotate on its axis, then the resistance
offered at a, c (Fig. x) is greater than- that offered at a; b; for a, c is
advancing with the velocity of the
throw flus the velocity of the twist, .---
while a, b is advancing with the i ----.....
velocity of the throw minus the
velocityofthetwist. Consequently -
a greater resisting force being ex- FIG. i.
erted at a, c than at a, b, the ball
yields and is forced into the curve B, A', just as a cross wind would
deflect it. The result is a curve-because the forces are constant
while the ball is in motion.
Again, conceive of the ball B (Fig.
2) as at rest and the wind acting on
a, b in the direction c, a. The angle
of incidence being equal to the angle
of deflection, the result will be to force
the ball in the direction c', a-the same
result as is produced by the wind acting
on a sail.
On this theory, the relation of the .1
velocity of the twist to the velocity of
the throw will determine the nature and
degree of the curve, and the point of FIc. 2.
departure from'the straight line.
If the ball be thrown too slowly, there is not sufficient resistance
to affect its course materially. If it is thrown too swiftly, the velocity
of the throw will overcome the tendency of the twist, and there
will be no perceptible curve.
For this reason the ball, when first thrown, will proceed in an
apparently straight line until its initial velocity is so far diminished as
to nearly equal the velocity of rotation, when it will begin to curve.
Again, the ball would have a tendency to curve in the direction
of rotation were there no resistance from the air. For, in the plane
of rotation the circumference at c moves more rapidly toward A than
at the point b (Fig. 3); hence it has a
tendency to advance over a greater dis- .--
tance than b in a given time, but is held C A
back by b. This gives centrifugal and
centripetal forces acting from b to c, and FIG. 3.
a consequent tendency of c to revolve
around b, which, in connection with the motion of both toward a,
would give the curved line a-A' as the path of the ball.
As a familiar example, take a child's wooden hoop and toss it
from you with sufficient upward tendency to overcome gravity, at
the same time causing it to revolve rapidly in a plane parallel to the
horizon, and you will find that it will describe a curve in the direc-
tion of the rotation and fall at your feet. This is an extreme illus-
tration of this factor of the base-ball curve; the diameter of the
hoop being so much the greater, of course gives a far greater veloc-
ity of rotation in comparison to that of projection than the smaller
diameter of the base-ball can give.
This same principle is involved in the explanation of the motion
of the boomerang of the Australians and the toy of the same name.
Yours sincerely, ROBERT S. DoD.

OUR thanks are due to the young friends whose names here follow,
for pleasant letters which they have sent us, but which are crowded
out of the Letter-box :
Arthur E. Clark, Jr., A. G. C., M. M. Stevens, Urbanna My-
rover, Gladys, Gipsy, Sibyl," Blue Bell, Hie and "Tie," T.
A. T., May Elden, Herman N. Steele, Yum 'and "Tum,"
Daisy Smith, Phil Riley, Annie M. Porter, Daisy A. C., Lucy E.
D., Mable H. W., Amelia N. F., and Annie L. D., Francie Macken-
zie, Maiden Hair and Moonlight," Mabel F. Rigby, W., I. S. B.,
E. T. C., Carl W., Isabel Eldridge, Kittie Loper, Aimce and Gold-
ina Mendelson, Herbert A. Megraw, Gerald B. Wadsworth, F. W.
L., Amy D. Smith, Imogcne Avis, May, David Blair, and May E.





No PERSON capable of appreciating a beautiful record of a con-
sistent and noble life can begin to read Mrs. Agassiz's book and
leave it unfinished; and no one can finish reading it without receiv-
ing a fresh baptism of faith, hope, and love.
"The work is written in so captivating a style that the reader
seems almost to see Agassiz, the boy, catching the fishes and study-
ing their movements in the old stone tank near the Swiss parsonage
where he was born. Sympathy is felt for the youth threatened with
blindness, but still so intent upon his chosen pursuits that he studies
fossils in a darkened room, using his tongue to feel out the impres-
sions when his fingers are not sensitive enough. Enthusiasm is
aroused when the young man exploits his glacial theory, which, op-
posed by Buckland and other scientists, afterward makes converts of
them all."
I have been deeply impressed by the manifestation of Agassiz's
distinctive traits and peculiar powers, at a very early age. It is this
that makes the record of his life so inspiring to young men.
When our boys read what a boy of nineteen may be, and may do,
they will hot be satisfied with lives devoted in large measure to triv-
ial enjoyments; and they will regard as of less consequence the
height of their new collars, and the tie of their cravats.
From the time he was born in the little cottage by the Lake of
Morat, until he was laid to rest at Mount Auburn, the story of Agas-
siz's life is a constant inspiration. Whether Louis Agassiz was right
or wrong, we respect the manliness that refused to accept the doc-
trine of evolution, because his reason was not convinced of its truth.
I can scarcely conceive a greater blessing to this country, restless
as it is in its haste for riches, vexed as it is by the clashing of
opposing interests, than that the sweet and consecrated spirit of
Louis Agassiz should steal into the unquiet breasts of American
young men, and fill them with the like self-forgetting devotion to
simple truth.


IT is with deep sorrow that I have to announce the death ot
one of our most prominent and promising members. William D.
Shaw, son of Mr. Thomas Shaw, died at C6te St. Antoine, June 29,
aged 9x years. Mr. Shaw was one of those young men who had
caught the spirit of Louis Agassiz, and already at his early age he
had given promise of a useful life.
He was the leading spirit in founding our Montreal Chapter, which
grew, principally under his direction, into one of the largest and
strongest on our roll. A member of the B. A. A. S., he was about
going to England to take part in the proceedings there. He was a
devoted student of natural science, and his collection which he re-
cently gave to the Montreal Chapter was one of the largest private
collections in the city.
Mr. Shaw was our Canadian Secretary, and his loss will be deeply
felt by many Chapters of our Association.

Water-spider. I found a large water-spider under a bridge. I
placed it in bottle and fed it flies. Instead of building a web, it stays
on a stick, and jumps at the flies when they come near it.- Alex.
E. Wight.
Electriclight and insects. In four or five evenings, by examining
the ground closely near our electric lights, I found specimens of
Telea Polyphemus, Actias Luna, Platysamia Cecropia, Callosamia
Promethea, and other large moths, including several hawk-moths:
also many varieties of beetles.
Hardly any were found outside the shadow around base of pole.-
Peter T. Bourne, Sec., Poughkeepsie, N. Y.
Birds of Fulton Co., IKy. No bird is given that I have not seen
here and fully identified. Nomenclature according to Coue's Key:
1.--Turdus migralorius. American robin. Transient visitant
in spring and fall. Abundant. Many killed and eaten here.
.-. T. Mustelinus. Wood-thrush. Rare.
3.- T. fjscescens. Wilson's thrush. Transient. Common.
4.-ilimuts polyglottls. Mocking-bird. Summer resident. Grow-
ing scarce. Many young taken for the cage. A young one sells
for from 25c. to $i.
5.--Mi'in.s Carolinensis. Catbird. Common.
6.-Siaia sialis. Bluebird. Resident. More common in win-
ter than in summer.
7.-Lophophanes bicolor. Tufted titmouse. Resident.
8.-Panrs atricapillus. Black-capped titmouse. Abundant in
9.--Sitti Carolinensis. Sap-sucker. Abundant in winter.
so.- Troglodytes doimestirns. House-wren. Abundantin winter.
io.-Dendraeca testiva. Summer yellow-bird. Common.
12.-Pyrangoa rubra. Scarlet tanager. Summer resident.
13.--' -sLiva. Summer red-bird. Common.
04.- yth/rogastra horreorum. Barn-swallow. Com-
mon summer resident.
15.-Passerina cyanea. Indigo bunting. Common summer
16.-Cariinalis Virginiana. Cardinal grosbeak. Common.
17.--Trochieis contbris. Ruby-throated lhumming-bird. Com-
i8.-Cathartes aura. Turkey buzzard. Common resident.
i9.- Zenaidura Carolinensis. Turtle-dove. Common.
20.- Anas boscas. Mallard. Very common.
[These are only selections from a long-and nearly complete. i./
sent by L. O. Pindar. It shows what an observing boy can do.]
Grasshopplers climbing trees. Toward evening, I noticed on an
apple-tree a very large number of grasshoppers, apparently climbing
the tree. It seemed to me that they were going to roost" for the
night.-E. F. Stevens, Chapter 465.
Ruffed Grouse drumming. Hearing some one say that the
thunder-like noise was made by the grouse's wings striking upon the
log upon which he was sitting, I determined to find out for certain.
Since then I have noted four things:
1. The wings are always held half-closed at first; i. e., the outer
joint half-doubled against the one next it.
2. The wing is first raised and then pushed outward from the
3. The wings are not used alternately, but both at once.
4. The wings do not strike the log, but are drawn in by a quick
motion against the sides of the bird.-E. L. Stephan, Pine City,
Ifydra hunting. I send you a drawing of a hydra which

*Edited by his wife, Elizabeth Cary Agassiz. With portraits, illustrations, and index. In two volumes, crown, 8vo.
Houghton, Miffin & Co., Boston and New York.





(natural size) is about half an inch long. I have seen a hydrai fsca
catch little animals smaller than itself by means of its lasso, and,
when they were dead, drop them without eating them.-Alex.
Wight, Framingham, Mass.
A motherly rat. I found in a nest a mouse, of the common sort,
so young that its eyes were not yet open., A friend having a.white
rat with a litter of young, we put the little fellow among them. The
mother rat at once adopted it and took good care of it for two weeks,
when it escaped.- Frank H. Foster, Sec. 440.
Flowers, birds, insects, and worms of Jafan. Before coming to
Japan I was told that the flowers here had no perfumes, and the
birds no songs.
This certainly was misinformation, as thare are both, though not
so intense.or so various as at,'home.
The skylark is the most conspicuous of the birds, at least, so far
as voice goes, and pours forth as much music as any half dozen of
our songsters. No wonder the poets have gone mad over him.
Will some of our English friends tell us whether the skylark sings
any in thefall in England ?
Very many of the worms and caterpillars that live on the leaves of
trees and shrubs -and every tree and bush seems to have one or
more of these enemies have a queer way of spinning themselves a
sort of sack or cocoon covered with bits of twigs and leaves. One
end of the cocoon is left open, and through this the worm sticks its
head and feet, thus carrying its jacket around with it while eating.
The earth-worms are very striking. They all possess much more
springing power than any I ever saw at home. Even the small,
common kinds will jump entirely off the ground when touched.
Some grow to an enormous size. The largest I saw this summer
were fully ten inches long and from three-eighths to one-half an inch
through when contracted. Some are beautifully striped-in rings-
with a prevailing blue color, but changing in the light like variegated
silk.- C. M. Cady.
A robin fights. While on a tramp, one day, I saw a robin give a
cow-bird a sound thrashing.
A "fish-fly walks out. I found, one day, in Wine creek, some
queer-shaped larva. They looked like large wrigglers. I picked
some up and, while looking at them, I saw the back of one split
open, and out walked a fish-fly. I thought it would have trouble
in getting its tail out, but it did n't. It just gave a twist and out came
the tail.- F. V. Corregan, Oswego, N. Y.
Strange food for tortoises and mice. I am very much interested
in the attempt to teach habits of scientific observation to the young
people of our country, and therefore venture to send you two facts
new to me in regard to the feeding habits of animals. Last summer
I was passing through a grove, about twenty rods froTh-the Housa-
tonic river, when my attention was attracted by a large turtle (for
reasons mentioned below, I think it was a land-tortoise, though I do
not know one kind of turtle from another), with its neck stretched
out to its utmost extent, busily engaged about something. As I
drew near, it pulled in its head with a sharp hiss, and I saw that it
was standing near a fungus, or toad-stool, about an inch thick and
three inches across (when whole), nearly half of which looked as if
it had been nibbled away; and, on looking at the tortoise's mouth, I
saw bits of the toad-stool sticking to it. On mentioning this to my
brother (who knows far more about animals than I), he said, "That
is queer, for I found a land-tortoise eagerly eating a toad-stool in my
woods, this summer." My brother lives on Long Island.
For many months my sister and I have been puzzled by seeing a
mouse in our room, though he had no apparent hiding-place. One
window of ours always stands open at the top all summer, and below
it is a thick woodbine. One evening in September, I was busily
writing by this window, of wl ich the blinds were closed, but the
slats open, when I heard a tapping noise, which I thought was in-
sects. Looking up, however, I saw a little mouse, which, on seeing
me, disappeared through the slats of the blind. I sat quite still, and
in a minute he came back, and, to my astonishment, began catch-
ing and eating the small insects which my light had attracted to
the window. He was not a field-mouse, but an ordinary house-
mouse, and could not have been driven to this diet by extreme hun-
ger, for he was very plump.
Perhaps these habits in mice and turtles may be well known, but,
as I never heard of them, I venture to send them to you.
Yours truly, V. Butler, Stockbridge, Mass.


THIs remarkable plant of Texas is one not frequently spoken of
by botanists, but nevertheless it is interesting and worthy of a high
place among the many beautiful flowers and plants which clothe
the boundless plains of Texas during eight months of the year. In
its style of growth it somewhat resembles the climbing rose, and is
covered with densely grown and flexible thorns about a quarter of
an inch long, and turned backward like hooks. Its top (that part
above the earth's surface) dies out when the cold northerss" begin
to blow ; but early in spring the tender shoots spring up from the old
stock. It thrives best among rocks mixed with the yellow alkaline
clay common to these regions. Its flower is of the most exquisite
and delicate beauty, and its delicious perfume is not to be classed
with that of the rose or other sweet-scented domestic flowers. The

flower, when blooming, does not burst open after the manner of the
rose, but in one night a myriad of little silk-like threads or petalsof a
deep pink color shoot out from a green ball, much resembling those
seen on the sycamore, though much smaller; and, as the king of
day peeps smilingly over the distant horizon, it greets him with its
delicate beauty and delicious odor. But now we come to the remarka-
ble part of its structure, the leaves. These grow from each side of a
stem much in the same manner as those on a walnut tree, but of course
not so large, the entire stem rarely exceeding an inch in length. Now
draw your finger along this stem, touching the bright green leaves
on either side, and what happens? The instant you remove your
finger the little leaves close with the uppermost sides tight together,
and thus they remain for several hours, as though insulted by such
an act of impudence. Even the touch of a stick or a strong wind
will close these ill-tempered leaves. If you touch one individual
leaf it closes, while the others remain in their natural position.
This plant is also known as the "Indian tracker," it being said
that the Indians, who now roam about over the beautiful plains of
the Indian Territory, and even on those of Texas, used to track
their enemies and game by observing the condition of leaves on the
sensitive plant.
It also grows in Missouri, and, perhaps, in Arkansas, but among
the rocky hills and calons of Texas seems to be at home.-Alfred
V. Kern, Wichita Falls, Wichita Co., Texas.


I WIL. tell you about a walking-stick I caught last summer. It
was the largest one I had ever seen, though they are quite numerous
in the woods about here. It measured four inches from its head
to its tail. While waiting to get a bottle to preserve it in, I kept it
in a small pasteboard box, and when I was ready to transfer it to
the bottle of alcohol, I found it had laid six eggs. The eggs were
about the size of a large pin's-head, oval in shape, shiny black about
four-fifths of their length, the other fifth white. Well, I put the bug
in the bottle, and glued the eggs on a piece of stiff paper and put
them away in a pasteboard box. The other day I happened to open
the box and found that two of the eggs had hatched. The inmate
of one was a perfectly formed little walking-stick one-fourth of an
inch long, its legs about the thickness of a fine hair, and the same
length as its body. The other one was two-thirds outside of its shell,
and was of a bright green color.-John H. Kinzie, Riverside, Illinois.


MOUNTED microscopic objects, mostly vegetal, for others, or for
books on the microscope, vegetable histology, etc.- A. E. Warren,
Jefferson, 0.
Determined botanical specimens, for same. Send lists.-Norman
C. Wilson, The Dalles, Oregon, Sec. Ch. 28.
Correspondence solicited.-Chi. 87, Newburyport, Mass. G. A.
Noyes, Sec., Box 933.
I shall be glad to send specimens of anything I can get here, to
those who will pay the postage, or send pressed flowers in return.
-Kittie C. Roberts, 212 W. Peachtree street, Atlanta, Georgia.


WE were misinformed by an unscrupulous person regarding our
badge-maker, Mr. Hayward. He has not retired from business, but
may be addressed as heretofore at 202 Broadway, N. Y.


No. Name. No. of Members. Address.
975 London, Eng. (G)....... 4..Francis Felix Francillon, 21 Re-
gent's Park Terrace, Glouces-
ter gate, London, N. W.
230 Brazil, Ind. (A) ......... i..Geo. B. Bennett, Box x69.
28 The Dalles, Oregon (A)..12..Norman C. Wilson, Wasco Co.


834 Westfield, Mass. (A)........ Miss Mary D. Clark.
5rx Blackwater, Florida (A).... Miss Kittie C. Roberts.

Secretaries of Chapters 701-800 will kindly forward their reports
as soon as convenient. All are invited to join the Association.

Address all communications for this department, to
Lenox, Mass.





CONNECTED PYRAMIDS. Centrals, Pastoral. Cross-words: i. P.
2. bAa. 3. guSto. 4. MonTero..5. 0. 6. eRa. 7. leAch. 8.
BURIED QUADRUPEDS. I. Alpaca. 2. Beaver. 3. Bison. 4.
Ermine. 5. Chamois. 6. Genet. 7. Loris. 8. Llama. 9. Lemur.
io. Paco. It. Paca. 12. Panda. 13. Tapir. 14. Jackal.
DIAMOND. I. C. 2. Hap. 3, Humor. 4. Cambric. 5. Pored.
6. Rid. 7 C.
CONNECTED SQUARES. I. I. Leap. 2. Earl. 3. Area. 4.
Pan. IPlan. Plan. Line. 3. Ants. 4. Nest. III. i. Plan.
2. Love. 3. Arts. 4. Nest. IV. T. Nest. 2. Echo. 3. Show.
4. Town.
DOUBLE ACROSTIC. Primals, Cold wave; finals, Manitoba.
Cross-words: i. ClaM. 2. OlgA. 3. LoaN. 4. DemI. 5.
WanT. 6. AltO. 7. VerB. 8. E11A.
TRIANGULAR PRISM. From r to 2, Celt; from i to 3, chip; from
2 to 5, toupettit; I to 4, catechism; 3 to 6, proboscis; 4 to 5, mint;
4 to 6, mass; 5 to 6, trellis.

DOUBLE ZIGZAG. From I to io, Michaelmas; from It to 20,
roast goose. Cross-words: i. Macaroni. 2. Bibulous. 3. t'ecul-
iar. 4. Cashiers. 5. Gratuity. 6. Deterges. 7. Lampoons. 8.
Imporous. 9. Chastise. to. Pristine.
Graceful, tossing plume of glowing gold,
Waving lonely on'the rocky ledge;
Leaning seaward, lovely to behold,
Clinging to the high cliff's ragged edge.
Seaside Goldenrod.
RHYMED WORD-SQUARE. I. Bacon. 2. Aroma. 3. Coped. 4.
Omega. 5. Nadab.
OCTAGON. I. Hop. 2. Papal. 3. Harelip. 4. Operate. 5.
Palaver. 6. Liter. 7. Per.
BEHEADINGS. Thomas Edison. Cross-words: I. T-hank. 2.
H-aunt. 3. O-pens. 4. M-isle. 5. A-skew. 6. S-urge. 7.
E-bony. 8. D-rink. 9. I-deal. xo. S-ewer. t. O-read. 12.
CROSS-WORD ENIGMA. Husking frolic.

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 St., New York City.
ANSWERS TO ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE JULY NUMBER were received, before July 20, from "B. L. Z. Bub, No. x"-Topsy and
Eva Betsy and Bob "-Jo and I Maggie T. Turrill Shumway Hen and Chickens Joseph Brobston, Jr.- Mary Ludlow The
Spencers Little Miss Muffet- Francis W. Islip Two Cousins- C. and H. Condit H. and S.- Madge and the Dominie -" Dash "
-"Original Puzzle Club "- J. L. A. O. F.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE JULY NUMBER were received, before July 2o, from Pelham, i-Reba Neal, 3-C. E. Thompson, i -
Paul Reese, 2--C. R. M., Capt. Bomb, 5 Maud E. Palmer, 8 Mamma and Katie, i--Capt. Dag, i --Tripod, J -"A. D.
Onis," i Birdie Koehler, 7 Kittie, Belle, and Bird, 2 R. G. Welson, i Yum-Yum, i Gum Tree, 3 Bee, 2 -R. H. Wedin, i -
Moses, W. L. C., 3 Mush and Milk, 4 J. C. A., 5- Fin, Fur, and Feather, 3 Me and Be," 4 A. Maude Doty, 2 E. D.
N., 4 -" Pards," 5 Lena B. R. Pierce, 4- Sophia and Traddles," 5- C. Furstenberg, i W. K. C., t J. and ., 3- Aloha, 3-
D. B. Shumway, 7-Effie K. Talboys, 5-E. E. P. and A. S. C., 3-"Whiskers," i-Mamie R., 8-T. J. ., 4-Nellie and
Reggie, 8-A. Hieronymous, 4-"Agricola," 6 Spa, i- Mab, 4- M. L. Everett, 8-L. C. B., 8-" Retlaw," I -Bat and Ball, I -
F. D., 5-" B. L. Z. Bub, No. 2," 8-Addie C. Bowles, i- Mary and Sallie Viles, 7-L. M. B., 8-Lee, 5-Jack Tar, x.

BEHEAD the first word indicated by stars to make the second, the
second to make the third, and so on.
The shiprodein an, ,a a bay;
Asleep, ., ~ a the master lay;
A ,. a and rugged man was he,
And, like the ., at home at sea;
He, like the swooped on his prey,
Whene'er the came his way.
But now, while the needle kept,
Forgetting all, he lay and slept. E. L. E.

i. AN isthmus through which a canal is being cut. 2. Out of a
straight line. 3. A girl's name. 4. A girl's name. 5. A personal
pronoun. 6. In half-square.


I. UPPER LEFT-HAND DIAMOND: I. In fashions. 2. A cover.
3. Fastened with cords. 4. Fabrication. 5. To condescend. 6. A
title. 7. In fashions.
II. UPPER RIGHT-HAND DIAMOND : x. In fashions. 2. Part of

a flower. 3. An artificial water-course. 4. Papal envoys. 5. A
coloring substance. 6. A portion. 7. In fashions.
III. CENTRAL DIAMOND: I. In fashions. 2. To doze. 3.
Dating from one's birth. 4. Constitutions. 5. A city in Italy. 6.
A meadow. 7. In fashions.
dance. 3. A public house. 4. Heeds. 5. Akind of nut. 6. Three-
fifths of a musical term meaning slowly. 7. In fashions.
V. LOWER RIGHT-HAND DIAMOND: i. In fashions. 2. To
endeavor. 3. Equipped. 4. Poetical comparisons. 5. An affray.
6. A river in Scotland. 7. In fashions. M. A. s.


S. 2
UPPER SQUARE: i. A denomination. 2. To resound. 3. The
sovereign prince ofTartary. 4. To inter.
LOWER SQUARE: I. A kind of nail. 2. A lineage. 3. A piece
of land. 4. Achievement.
Diagonals, from I to 2, a case. "MYRTLE GREEN."

ALL of the words described contain the same number of letters;
and the letters of each word, after it has been beheaded and curtailed,
may be transposed to spell the same word. In short, the middle
letters of each word described are the same, and may be transposed
to form the same word.
i. Zealous. 2. Rancor. 3. Memr4anes that cover the brains.
4. To exchange. 5. To impede. 6. Baskets of wicker-work.
7. Uttered foolishly. 8. Divided. 9. Rush. ro. Pertaning to a
Mediterranean island. i. Looked earnestly. 12. Negotiates.



-oA ",. -,f *"s

--- a -------

EACH of the small pictures may be described by a word which
rhymes with celebration." The initial letters of the words to be
supplied spell a busy season of the year. The following lines hint
at the meaning of each picture:
My first is great ; My seventh, rapid -- ;
My next a common -- ; My eighth, a terrible -- ;
My third a thorough -- ; My ninth, a perfect -- ;
My fourth an under -- ; My tenth, a foolish -- ;
My fifth an earnest ; My last, compulsory --
My sixth a painful ; "ROB ROY."

I. My primals spell one who inherits; my finals, a weaver's ma-
chine; primals and finals combined, a personal chattel,whichdescends
by inheritance.
CRoss-woRDS: 1. Pertaining to herbs. 2. An inhabitant of a
northern country. 3. A coloring matter. 4. Redemption.
II. My primals and finals each spell a name for the sperm whale.
CRoss-WORDS: x. A fastening. 2. Like a monkey. 3. De-
mented. 4. Songs of a certain kind. 5. Singly. 6. Smallest. 7.
The emblem of peace. 8. A South American animal.
THREE si a tabufile trips ringbathe wno
Tis wellom chinsers no eth drescutle steer,
Dan, morf a break lufl fo cresthi syde,
Gourpin wen rylog no eth mutnau dowos,
Nad grippnid ni rawm ghlit eth lardpile uscold.
I AM composed of one hundred and forty letters, and forma stanza
by Bryant.
My ioi-o8-1o6-1-5 is a vast number. My 125-22-53 is astern.
My 73-107-136-79 is animation. My 45-57-116-4 is to move. My
105-48-127-28 is unmixed. My 100-83-59 is used for illuminating
purposes. My 17-63-90 is a nickname for Boston. My 69-34-r1x-
119-13 is a fine city. My 99-134-70-92-49 is to appropriate. My
1292-122-2-5-40 is the name of an eminent English naturalist and
divine of Selborne. My 35-6-132-65 is the name of a distinguished
American poet and artist, born in 1822. My 94-26-32-112-1-8 is a
name well known to literature, borne by a man and his wife. My
97-1 3-31-43-15-18-96-55 is another similar name. My 88-21-138
-140 is a famous English humorist and author. My 67-75-61-7-71
is the reputed author of the Iliad. My 13-50-1-10o2-37-12-91-38-

T14 is an eminent poet born at Pallas, in Ireland, in 1728. My 47-
76-o09-86-42 is a celebrated Italian epic poet. My 81-29-23-124-
27-20-84 is the inventor of the Kindergarten. My irro-4-126-5x-
16 is a celebrated Scottish poet. My 117-135-72-3 is "The Bard
of Twickenham." My 78-128-5-68-120-41 is a poet now living.
My 130-46-64-36-131-44 is a famous writer of witty verses and es-
says. My 121-62-30-137-82-89-139-85-018-33 is the best-known
American poet. My 58-9-104-66-87 is The Wizard of the North."
My ro8-39-o0-24-123-95-56-8o-6o is the real name of "Michael
Angelo Titmarsh." My 133-52-93-77-74-19-54 is the real name of

5 6

3 . ... 4

7 8
ON a pleasant day in August we took one of the many o to 2 ply-
ing between city and 2 to 4, and with 3 to 4 hearts started on a day's
pleasure trip. Some 5 to 7 pointed out many objects of interest. On
landing, we took a stroll and then seated ourselves on some old I10 5
to eat a 6 to 8 and to watch the beautiful white 3 to 7 that were 1 to 3
over the water. A few 5 to 6, trying to gain health and 7 to 8 by a
plunge in salt water, were thrown into a panic by a mischievous boy
who cried out that he saw 2 to 6 close by. The bathers were glad
to take refuge on solid 4 to 8. KATASHAW."
ALL of the words described contain the same number of letters.
When rightly guessed and written one below the other, the second
and the sixth row of letters will each spell a name given to the last
day of October.
i. Military. 2. A small round mass. 3. Smoothly. 4. To treat
with tenderness. 5. A company of travelers. 6. Capable of being
molded. 7. Ardent. 8. Blooming. 9. Gross. 0o. Regards with
reverence. si. To retain. 12. A little ring. F. s. F.



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