Front Cover
 Merrie Christmas feast
 Millet and the children
 Those Christmas stockings
 A millennium
 A fortunate opening
 The story of Pprince Fairyfoot
 The mystic macaw
 A visit to Eton
 The galley cat
 A Christmas conspiracy
 Juan and Juanita
 An idyl of the king
 Ten times one is ten
 A reason for smiling
 When grandpa was a little boy
 The Bownies in the toy-shop
 Editorial notes
 The letter-box
 Answered riddle jingle
 The Agassiz association: Sixty-ninth...
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover

Title: St. Nicholas
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00180
 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: VID00180
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
        Front Cover 3
    Merrie Christmas feast
        Page 162
        Page 163
        Page 164
        Page 165
    Millet and the children
        Page 166
        Page 167
        Page 168
        Page 169
        Page 170
        Page 171
        Page 172
        Page 173
        Page 174
        Page 175
        Page 176
        Page 177
        Page 178
    Those Christmas stockings
        Page 179
        Page 180
        Page 181
        Page 182
        Page 183
        Page 184
    A millennium
        Page 185
    A fortunate opening
        Page 186
        Page 187
        Page 188
        Page 189
    The story of Pprince Fairyfoot
        Page 190
        Page 191
        Page 192
        Page 193
    The mystic macaw
        Page 194 (MULTIPLE)
        Page 195
        Page 196
        Page 197
        Page 198
        Page 199
    A visit to Eton
        Page 200
        Page 201
        Page 202
        Page 203
        Page 204
        Page 205
        Page 206
        Page 207
    The galley cat
        Page 208
        Page 209
        Page 210
    A Christmas conspiracy
        Page 211
        Page 212
        Page 213
        Page 214
        Page 215
    Juan and Juanita
        Page 216
        Page 217
        Page 218
        Page 219
        Page 220
        Page 221
        Page 222
        Page 223
    An idyl of the king
        Page 224
        Page 225
    Ten times one is ten
        Page 226
    A reason for smiling
        Page 227
    When grandpa was a little boy
        Page 228
    The Bownies in the toy-shop
        Page 229
        Page 230
        Page 231
        Page 232
        Page 233
    Editorial notes
        Page 234
    The letter-box
        Page 234
    Answered riddle jingle
        Page 235
    The Agassiz association: Sixty-ninth report
        Page 236
        Page 237
        Page 238
    The riddle-box
        Page 239
        Page 240
        Unnumbered ( 83 )
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text

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THERE still stands in the little village of Barbi-
zon, near Paris, a low, peasant's cottage, which
from 1849 to 1875 was the home of the French
artist, Jean Frangois Millet.


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gray'granite bowlders, and heathery hillocks of
the Fontainebleau forest, sometimes alone, some-
times with artist friends, but oftener with children,
who were always his favorite companions..
Then they returned
to the cottage through
beautiful forest glades,
=~ .and. after the simple
.-_.- evening meal came
the: children's hour.
There sat Father Mil-
let, his soft, dark eyes
shining with merri-
nient, his brave, kind-
ly face all" smiles for
I the grandchildren and
the others who, unre-
-proved, pulled bis full
black beard or climbed
upon his knees to rum-
ple his dark hair.
J., .Sometimes he sang
jovial old French songs
praising the life of the
laborer among the
vines. When other
artists, lik~e his friend
..N;iij. Rousseau,. were pres-
?i~Ient, they made rebuses,
filling out a word by a
-But, best of all, the
children liked Father
Millet's pictures; and
'14 so, when the lamp was
lit and placed beside
.00 the group, on a table
in the low cottage
ii;:room, Millet drew for
the children such rude
sketches as are shown
on pages 17o and 17 1
If an old newspaper

. lip w.


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and a match were at
hand, IMillet asked for
nothing more. He
dipped, the match-in
an inkstand, 'made a



At the end of the garden was his dark studio.
Here he painted, day by day, after mornings
spent in digging, sowing, or reaping. In the late
afternoons he wandered among the gnarled oaks,

few quick strokes on the margin of the newspaper,
and there was a peasant or a horse and rider to
be recognized at once.' They were very hasty
sketches, these little outlines dashed off after din-



ner with ink or pencil upon odd scraps of paper,
and yet they show at least one of the qualities
which made Millet so great an artist. Every atti-
tude, movement, and gesture is truthful, although
expressed by a few rude lines.
These sketches were drawn easily and freely,
yet with an exact knowledge of the meaning
which every line should convey. Sometimes Mil-
let exaggerated the characteristics of the figures
that the children might recognize them more

easily, as, for example, in showing the difference
between a horse at full gallop and one quietly
working, as shown on page 171.
Millet is known in. this country chiefly as a
painter of peasants, although he painted other
figures, and landscapes, marine views, and fruit
pieces. And in his paintings of peasants, which
are sometimes seen in our exhibitions, there are the
same truth of action, the genuineness, and the sim-
plicity which show even in these little drawings.


His figures are really doing just what the artist-
intended to represent, for Millet sympathized with.
and understood his .ubijetc. He was .I pcaiatnt


K~ <~-

himself. Of course, to realize his even, subdued,
but rich coloring, his knowledge of perspective
and light and-shade, and to understand how.much
his designs embraced, one must see his finished
paintings, many of which are owned in New York
and Boston.
At least one of his paintings is-inidicated-in these
drawings. That called The First Step" was
probably in his mind when he drew this charming
little sketch, so expressive of the loving anxiety
of the mother, who stretches out her arm- to re-
ceive the child toddling. ur.nertainl to.,a:rd her.
In the painting, the. peasant mother brings a
laughing, crowing babe to the-gate, and the father,
who has set down his barrow, kneels, holding out
his arms to the child.
AsMillet's drawings took form among the
laughter and outcries of the group whose heads clus-
tered around the paper, the scenes of his own child-
hoodmniust often have come back to him; for sev-
eral of his subjects are taken from Normandy rather
than from the neighborhood of Barbizon. In Barbi-
zon the villagers are too near Paris to be counted as
true country.folk, and the primitive features of their
dress have' beeri hanged through intercourse with
the people of the city. But iit arid about the hamlet
of Gruchy, in Normaridy, where Millet'was born in
1814 the peasants wearsabots,'oriwooden shoes, with
long turned-up points, larger than those worn at
Barbizon; and the'favorite head-dress of the women
is the white cap 'of peculiar form shown in some of
these sketches. In one, Millet has drawn a.Nor-
~ ~ ~ M le ha drw a .. .P.

mandy peasant-girl returning from market. She
has sold the vegetables or 'eggs ifth whichh the
donkey's b"aslkt as filled, and she rides with her
feet in the basket, sitting heav-
ily on the patient donkey, as
one can see by the curving
.lines which ih.:i ther relaxa-
(^ y |tion of the fi uie, for she is
/ tired from her day at the
market. Another sketch shows
a little peasant girl holding
S a goat as if to show off its
Form and paces to a possible
purchaser.. This is one of
several scenes of the out-
door farm-lie which Millet
knew so well. He drew What
he had often: seen-peasant-
girls feeding a heifer from
a pail of'bran-:and water, a
mother and child beside a
pet cow whose tongue lolls


hungrily but, and a woman trying to keep the
peace between a fiercely barking dog and a cow
charging with head down. The human figures




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have the characteristics of Normandy peasants;
for the people and scenes of Millet's youth made
the strongest impression upon his mind.
All his life he cherished the memory of the good
grandmother who cared for him during his first
years, she who came to his bedside in the morning,
saying, "Wake up, my little Fr.-incoi; you don't
know how long the birds have already been singing
the glory of God Sometimes his father, a gen-

fields, saying of the grass, "'See how
fine or, Look at that tree, how
large and beautiful! It is as beautiful
as a flower!" One could imagine that
I this was Millet himself, walking in
the Fontainebleau forest with a child.
There was a great-uncle, a godd
priest, dearly loved by Millet, who
taught the children to read or cheer-
fully labored in the .fields.. And
S all around Gruchy were pastures
and plowed fields here the peasants
drove their cows and sheep, or sowed
and reaped. Beyond the village
U were cliffs, and the seashore where
ships were sometimes driven ashore,
and where the villagers gathered
I seaweed after storms. Such were
t e' f Millet's surroundings when a child,
and they must have been fresh in
his mind when at Barbizon he
drew these figures of Gruchy peas-
The sketch on page I71, which shows a goat and
two horses, one galloping andthe other quietly work-
ing, has been drawn over something else. Millet
had first drawn a pair of rabbits, probably with other
figures, and as no fresh scrap of paper was within
reach, he used this again. Then one of the grand-
children tried his hand at drawing a whip, and it is
easy to fancy Millet, with smiling face, leaning over
the little one, encouraging his attempt. Again,



'tle, pure-minded peasant who loved music and the
beautiful things in nature, would try to model a lit-
tie figure in clay for his son, as Millet olten did, in
after years at Barbizon, for his child-friends. Or.
the father would take the boy Millet out into the

Millet drew a state -stepping horse and important
rider with blaring trumpet, the sound of which
announces tie coming ofa circus. When he drew
the cats, one spitting angrily.at -a dog, the other
running away, Millet's own cats may have been



I incorrigible thieves, so that it was one of the chil-
dren's duties to find their hiding-places and bring
back stolen articles.
After sketching all these figures and objects,
I Millet would take a subject near at hand, and
would make a drawing of one of the children pres-
ent in the room, or of his daughter holding a baby
in her lap or putting it to bed in its small cradle.
The grandchildren were not ten years old
when Millet drew these sketches, not old enough
to go with him on long walks in the forest, or to
spend hours in Paris picture-galleries. There, his
companions were older children. One of them first
knew Millet in the city of Cherbourg, a few miles
from the artist's birthplace, the city where he
received his first lessons in art.
This boy had heard from his father how the

lying at his feet. They were not the only pets at
the Barbizon cottage. Often the children brought
young crows from the forest, and these became


young peasant Millet tried to imitate the engrav-
ings in his Bible during the noondayr rest, how
he drew the figures about him, and covered the
fences with sketches, until his father took him to
Cherbourg "to see whether he could make a living
by this business." When the artist to whom they
went saw Millet's drawings, he said to the father:
You must be joking. That young man there
did not make these drawings all alone."
And when convinced that they were really the
boy's work, he exclaimed:
Ah, you have done wrong to keep him so long
without instruction, for your child has in him the
making of a great artist."
Presently the Municipal Council of Cherbourg
awarded Millet a meager pension that he might


study art in Paris. But the councilmen expected him; but from an old miniature likeness he
the artist, in return, to send back large paintings painted a beautiful portrait, the face seen in a
to the city museum, although he could not live three-quarters front view. Wishing models for the
upon the pension. They became angry at his hands, Millet found a man in the neighborhood

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delay;, and he, finally, bought an immense canvas,
and in three days painted a picture of Moses
breaking the tables of stone. He varnished it
at once and sent it to the museum. But as the
,picture was varnished before the paint had dried,
it soon began to crack. Now the picture looks so
old that some of the good people take it for a
painting by Michael Angelo. Then the. council-
men asked Millet to paint a portrait of the mayor,
who had recently died. Millet had.never seen

who had finely shaped hands. This man, as it
happened, had been imprisoned for some offense.
When the portrait was finished and shown to the
councilmen, they sent for Millet and told him that
they were greatly displeased. The likeness' was
good, they said, but there were two grave faults:
SThe artist had painted only a three-quarters view
of the late mayor, whereas his Honor invariably
entered the Council Chamber facing straight for-
ward; and secondly, it was shameful to have used



the hand of a man who had been in prison as
the model for the hand of a man so good as the late
mayor. Poor Millet! There was nothing for him
to say to people so simple and ignorant as these.

way to pass the dry-goods store where this sign
hung, and among its admirers was the boy who
afterward, when his father removed to Paris, be-
came one of Millet's young friends.

--C - ._,
-- -


One of his Cherbourg pictures, however, was
appreciated, and that was a large canvas sign bear-
ing the figure of a little girl, which his poverty had
forced him to paint.
Some of the children often went out of their

In this boy's Paris home there were in all
twelve children. When Millet entered the large
dining-room every one rushed to meet him, and
there he often sat until late at night, talking,
laughing, and singing for the children, drawing


: :






sketches, or modeling in wax figures of birds and
"He looked like a good bourgeois" (small
tradesman), says one of these children, "but he
was tall, well formed, with a strong, very kindly
face, beautiful soft eyes, and big black beard."
Often Millet took the boy of whom I have
spoken to see the paintings at the Salon or the
Louvre. If a landscape satisfied him, he tried to
make his young companion understand why it was
beautiful; for example, how one could feel that
there was air in the scene, how there was such a
sense of atmosphere that it seemed as if one could
go around behind the trees.
He cared little for simple fullness and richness
of color. "A man can see what he pleases,"
Millet often said, "but there must be atmosphere
and texture in a picture. A stone must be harder
than a tree trunk, and a tree trunk harder than
water." Once he was looking at a painting of a
scene in Algeria.
"See, there is no atmosphere," he said. "It 's
very cleverly done. There is everything in it
except true art."
"But you have not seen that country," a
bystander exclaimed. "It is like that."
"In any country," replied Millet, "you must be
able to breathe !" Then, turning to his young

friend, he added, Whether the air is hot or
cold, you must feel that there is distance between
the figures and the sky above. The water may be
of any color, but it must be liquid, and you must
feel that if you slap it, it will move."
In another talk, as they walked through a pict-
ure gallery, Millet spoke of difficulties in art,
saying that one thing was as difficult as another.
'" To paint a glass placed upon a table so that you
feel that one can be taken away from the other is
just as difficult as anything else," he asserted.
" If a painter fails here, he will in other things,
because he has not received an impression strong
enough to put on canvas."
The yearly exhibition of pictures known as the
Salon usually gave Millet little satisfaction. The
whole is done by the same hand," he would say,
"except where here and there a master makes a
hole in the wall."
But at the Louvre, which contains the works of
old masters, Millet found so much to delight him
that the little feet beside him were often wearied
from standing on the hard floor. He was so sen-
sitive to the beautiful, so ready in explaining it,
that his young companion learned to love the an-
tique sculpture, for which Millet had a real passion,
and for other of his favorite groups. One of these
was Michael Angelo's Captives."


~~_ ;-_=-I~-~=~--~-~ -~-~;~-~=i;
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This is the way that Millet explained to his friend
the force of a master's work. He would lead him
before the painting of "The Deluge," by Nicolas
Poussin, whom. he esteemed one of the greatest
of painters. See," he would say, you can feel
that the frightful rain has been pouring down for
a long time, and that it will continue. You can
feel that man, beast, and nature are fatigued,
overcome by the pitiless, unceasing destruction of
all things. Everything is still, before unending,
terrible calamity." Then, to show the difference
between true, great art and mere talent, Millet
would take the boy to the painting of The Del-
uge," by Girodet, and say, "Here is a rock, the
only thing above the water. It is all very dra-
matic. It is an event, something short, like a
thunder-clap or a flash of lightning. Those peo-
ple on the rock are holding to the branch of a tree
which is breaking. They will disappear, and there
will be nothing left in your mind. This is a mo-
mentary scene, soon to be finished. It leaves
nothing to think about. But Poussin's 'Deluge,'


V 5.,

red, sailor's jacket, weather-beaten straw hat, and
wooden shoes, was like a boy himself. One could
not go far with him in an afternoon. He found a
picture at every step. At every turn of the path
he stopped, pointing to the sunlight on the trees,
or to the mosses on the rocks, exclaiming, Look!
See how beautiful! Or he threw himself down
upon the ground, saying, How delicious it is to lie
upon the grass and look at the sky Perhaps it
was at such a time that the idea came to him for a
series of charming little panel pictures which he
painted, representing the blades of grass like tall
trees in a forest, and the little inhabitants of the
grass, busy ants and greasy snails, magnified in
the same way-a glimpse of a strange, new world.
When Rousseau joined Millet in the forest, the
children were sharply watched. Rousseau loved
the forest as if it were his dearest friend. He was
angry if a branch were broken or a vine torn dowh;
indeed, the children were hardly allowed to touch a
leaf or a blade of grass. Often, when coming home
in the twilight, Millet was attracted by the fire of

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in its quiet way, leaves so much gloom and distress the blacksmith's forge at the end of the village
in your mind that you are bound to remember it street; and he paused with his friends, exclaim-
all your life." ing at the play of light upon the figures near
But some of the happiest hours spent together the forge and at the flickering shadows beyond.
by Millet and the children were in the beautiful One evening he came upon an old country cart
forest of Fontainebleau. Millet, wearing an old, with a loose wheel which made a noise, "poum,



poum," as the cart rolled on. He stopped and
listened, and presently said that he should like to
paint a picture which would make those who saw
it feel that sound coming through the twilight.
It seems a contradiction to speak of a sound in a
picture, but in Millet's greatest painting, "The
Angelus," we see a slender spire outlined against
the sunset light, two reverent figures in the fore-
ground, and we feel at once that at the sound of
the distant church bell the peasants have bowed
their heads in evening prayer.

One of his pictures, representing an old wood-
cutter followed by Death, was refused at the Salon,
because it was supposed that he meant to show
the hardships and sufferings of the peasant class.
But there was no political purpose- in Millet's
paintings. He always looked upon peasants as
the happiest people in the world, since they
were "doing God's work," and living out-of-
doors among beautiful scenery; and he tried to
represent them so. But, of course, with their
digging and plowing and other heavy work,


Children were always welcomed in Millet's
cottage, but there were other less agreeable visit-
ors. The grand people of the court, who some-
times came to the studio after hunting parties at
Fontainebleau, were coldly received, for they did
not understand the artist. They thought that in
his pictures of peasants hard at work in the fields
he was trying to show how miserable the common
people were under the Empire of Napoleon III.

" they can not be the figures of Watteau," Millet
used to say. Watteau, who was a fashionable
French painter in the last century, represented
country people like figures in a masquerade. They
are very pretty and very finely dressed, those dainty
Watteau shepherds and shepherdesses (some of
my readers may have seen them copied upon fans),
but they are very different from real peasants in
their working clothes toiling in the fields. Talk of



the misery and hardships of peasants made Millet
indignant. "What I call hardship," he said, "is
work like that of the stevedore, imprisoned in a
dark, foul hold, stowing away coal--not the peas-
ant's free work in the open air."
Since the court people misunderstood him so
entirely, Millet avoided seeing them when he
could; but once he was caught. One day an
open carriage drove to the door, bringing four
court ladies who wished to see the studio. As it
happened, Millet himself, in his sabots and blouse,
answered the bell.
Is M. Millet in?" asked a visitor.
Millet stepped outside and then said, "No."

and, on leaving, put a gold piece into Millet's hand,
taking him for a servant. Afterward, when he
was publicly honored with the rank of Cheva-
lier of the Legion of Honor, one of these ladies
recognized him. Millet simply said:
"Years ago your gold piece would have been a
God-send to me."
For there was much trouble in his life.- Peo-
ple were slow to recognize his greatness as an
artist. He knew what it was to want food and
fire, and to be persecuted for money which he
could not obtain. All this is described in his
biography, written by Alfred Sensier, one of his
friends; but Sensier's book may lead the reader to

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"Can we see his studio ? inquired one of the think that the hard struggle for money and recog-
ladies. nition embittered Millet's life. On the contrary,
"No," said the unrecognized artist; and he ex- he was not only courageous, but cheerful and
plained that M. Millet was a very peculiar man, jovial-"the most charming of companions," says
who would be angry if the studio were shown. one of his friends." Had he become soured, and
But as the ladies insisted and entered the yard, he constantly bemoaned his misfortunes, there could
said that he would admit them if they promised to not have been such intimate companionship and
tell no one of their visit. They entered, looked loving friendship between this brave, gentle artist
everywhere, upset half the things in the studio, and the children.
To this friend of Millet, Mr. Gaston L. Feuardent, I am indebted for valuable reminiscences.



q---.. -! i
3jl~~~ ^--"-"


'AFTER a long consultation on the part of the
children, the stockings hung from the nursery man-
telpiece.- It was felt that Waddle and Toto were
too young to present their case with sufficient skill
in favor of the nursery mantelpiece; and every-
body was certain that the stockings should hang
in a.row. They always had hung so, and they
looked extremely jolly by bulging at contrasting
points. So Laure and Weston obeyed their con-
sciences, and gave up pressing their claims for the
hall fireplace or either of their own rooms.
Waddle's stocking looked so small that Weston
laughed at it; but Laure put on her superior air,
and told him it was the prettiest of the four, and that
he ought to be ashamed ofhimself. Toto suggested
that, as he had two legs, he should be allowed
to hang up two stockings; he also hinted that his
shoes could hold something, and he advised the
other children to give this matter practical con-
"Do you wish to make Santa' Claus angry,
Toto ? asked Weston, chidingly.
Toto looked much distressed, and turned around
slowlyto the door, as if he expected Santa Claus
to-be on the threshold ready to punish him. But
as the doorway was empty, he turned back doubly
"Santa Claus can't be angry, Weston. If you
were always good-natured, I think you might have
a big bag with presents in it to give away."
Toto's logic seemed to have convinced his brother
and sister, for at nine o'clock that night four pairs
of stockings hung from the nursery mantel. The
children were as quiet as dolls in their beds. But
downstairs the parlor was very gloomy, although
three people sat in it.
S" John cried Mrs.- Carey, the children's

mother, "I am becoming perfectly wretched!
What if the express does n't get here ? "
My dear, you have already asked that question
several times," said her husband.
"Well, are not you thinking about the presents,
too? she demanded.
Yes; I shall: cry in a minute," he gayly an-
Grandmother laughed softly; but she tried to
calm her daughter's anxiety.
"I have heard that the express is very apt to be
late on Christmas Eve," she said. And, besides,
even if the things don't get here, the day will be
happy enough, Sophie." -
"There it is, I think exclaimed the children's
father, who' was as excited- as !.is ilr'e over the
matter, although he had become s~ customed to
supplying the- courage for the household, that he
was very quiet. No; the sleigh went by."
I 'm going to look at the stockings," said Mrs.
Carey. And she ran softly upstairs. When she
came down again, she was so mournfully that Mr.
Carey said: .
"Sophie, it is really early yet for the express,
you know."
"But we bought the things yesterday !" she
That makes it very likely that they will come
here all right to-day, does n't it ? "'inquired her
Mrs. Carey now stood at the window, looking
out into the darkness, through- which a fine snow
drifted, as usual on the eve of:Christmas, .
"Cheer. up, dear," pleaded :her, husband over
the top of the.evening paper. -
At the words she clapped her hands and turned
joyfully toward the room, saying::



"Oh, it is all right, at last! How thankful I
am I "
In fact, Mrs. Carey seemed to dismiss from her
mind all thought of the presents as soon as she
saw the sleigh draw up at the'gate; and she now
sat down by the center-table and took up some
fancy-work, while Mr. Carey went to the door to
speak to the expressman.
There was a little laughter and some stamping.
Mrs. Carey looked up-and there was Aunt Fitch !
Instead of screaming, or groaning with disap-
pointment, or doing anything else that would have
expressed an unpleasant shock, Mrs. Carey flew at
the old lady and kissed her in the merriest man-
ner, exclaiming twenty different welcomes, as if
her delight required a very unusual number, and
then reluctantly handed over Aunt Fitch to Grand-
mother's embrace.
We feel flattered," said Mr. Carey. It had
grown so late that we began to fear you had chosen
Henry's or Laurie's this year."
"No," replied Aunt Fitch. "I made up my
mind to come--six months ago. You see, among
other reasons, I knew Waddle would be so cunning
by this time, and I wanted to have the fun of see-
ing her before she grows wiser and bigger."
A yelp from one of the old lady's parcels an-
nounced to the Careys that "Picket" had come in
his accustomed hamper, and Mrs. Carey flew to
open it and let the welcome skye-terrier out. At
once the dog bounded into the room.
"I had chosen a lovely imitation skye-terrier
for Waddle!" cried the anxious mother, sud-
denly remembering all her disappointment about
the presents.
Why do you speak in that tone ? a.k-d Aurt.
Fitch. "What has happened ?"
The most serious thing that ever was heard of
on Christmas Eve !" said Mrs. Carey. "The chil-
dren's presents have not come I always like to
buy them the last thing, or else they are sure to
turn up before they are wanted, in out-of-the-way
corners; then, too, there is a delightful excite-
ment about Christmasing at the last moment;
but now I am punished for my selfish folly in
delaying, for the express has evidently overlooked
the packages. What will the children do? Aunt
Fitch gave a rather cheerful grunt as Grandmother
helped her off with her velvet bonnet. "Just think.
what a sad Christmas Day it will be !" cried Mrs.
Carey'again, her eyes full of tears. "And the
'empty stockings!"
"Perhaps it will be dismal, and perhaps it
wont," said Aunt Fitch. "As for me, I have
brought nothing expensive with me to give 'em;.
for you know I don't believe in gift-affection. But
I believe in having a good time, and I '11 do what

I can to help you out, Sophia. And you'd better
leave the stockings where they are. The children
might as well learn something to-morrow. Now
I '11 go to my room, if you please; for I 've had a
long journey. Come, Picket, go to bed! "
"A great deal depends on you for to-morrow,
my dear aunt! said Mr. Carey, as he bade her
an affectionate good-night.
One would think I was a pilot," she answered
laughingly. "But, nevertheless, I am going to
have a sound sleep, and forget about every one of
.Aunt Fitch disappeared by the staircase, and
her terrier trotted off with Mr. Carey to the basket
which was always in readiness in case the little
dog came to visit them.
The next morning Toto was the first in the house
to awake; and it is a wonder that Waddle did
not wake at the same moment, for something was
happening with considerable noise in their nursery.
Bump, bump, tumble, grumble, squeak, scamper !
That was what made Toto sit up in his bed and
blink, while a dim light filled the windows, and
the night-taper began to look stupid. Suddenly
Toto went back under the blanket, foi he saw only
five stockings hanging at the mantel-shelf, and he
was certain that Santa Claus must be busy filling
them at that moment. Then somebody jumped
upon his bed; he felt four jolly little feet on dif-
ferent parts of his body, and he slowly uncovered
his head.
Picket stood as still as a statue, gazing back at
Toto. A limp and shattered stocking dangled from
the terrier's mouth, and his ears spread out with
their fringes of silken hair. Not an eye was to be
seen in his face, but his bang looked as if it meant
to speak.
"You precious pet!" cried Toto, enveloping
the dog in his arms. But Picket wriggled away
andwas on the floor the next moment, prancing
about with the stocking and tripping himself up
with it, so that he rolled over just as if it were
fighting with him, and getting the upper hand
too. Toto shouted with laughter, arid Waddle
started up with her pale blue eyes filled with
sleep and astonishment, unable to see anything;
but she was soon laughing agreeably in company
with her brother, and then skillfully sliding into a
bawl of alarm.
"It's Picket!" Toto cried. "See, Waddle I
He 's torn all the stockings to pieces, now, but
yours. That hangs up still; and, 0 Waddle,
it's empty!"
All this noise. had aroused Laure, who soon
stood on the threshold of the room in her little
peach-colored wrapper, while the daylight grew



stronger every moment, and revealed the strange
condition of thingsquite distinctly.
Weston Weston! was all she said; and her
mouth would n't shut after that.
Weston immediately appeared in a crazy-quilt.
He and his elder sister whispered together, star-
ing at the empty fireplace, usually heaped with
presents, and at Waddle's solitary stocking. They
received Picket's active greetings as though he
were a ghost.
"I wonder if this is Christmas Day?" Laure
half sobbed.
"Of course it is; but Santa Claus forgot to
come," Weston replied.
Santa Claus had a great deal to do in his
hurry, or was stuck in a snowdrift, I suppose,"
Laure promptly rejoined. How dreadfully sorry
for us Mamma will be Toto and Waddle, do you
hear? You must try to comfort Mamma for there
being no presents. The hearth is quite empty;
and here is Picket, who has torn up the empty
stockings And Laure burst into tears, and sat
down in a heap on the floor.
Picket ran up to her and gave a great leap at
her face, and they all laughed, in spite of their
-dismay and disappointment..
"If Picket is here, Aunt Fitch can't be far
away," said Weston in a whisper to Laure. Oh,
what fun it will be if she has come to spend
Christmas! "
"Perhaps Santa Claus gave her the presents to
bring," suggested Toto. "I am sure they must
be friends; don't you think so, Laure ? "
Laure had opened her lips to answer, when all
turned their eyes to the doorsill, upon which stood
a little bent figure in a dark cloak with a hood
which hung out so far as quite to hide the face
of the wearer. A thin hand projected, resting
upon a cane. The older children thought at once
of the traditional old woman in the fairy stories,
who always brought wealth and happiness to the
people she visited.
"Pray tell me, if Miss Laure, Master Weston,
Toto, and.Waddle are at home," asked the little
hooded person, tapping on the sill with her cane.
"Oh, yes; here we all are, madam," Laure
answered, coming forward wi;llh a bow.
S" I called early on very particular business,"
continued the visitor. I have been told that you
are among the children whom Santa Claus did not
visit last night; and as it is through no fault of
your own, I have come to speak with you about it."
I want my presents !" roared Waddle, taking
in the whole situation so suddenly that she was
frightened, besides being greatly disappointed.
S"Stop, Waddle!" Toto -cried; "or I '11 tell
Mamma Listen to what the old witch says."

"Toto, I 'm surprised at your calling her a
witch," exclaimed Laure, setting out a chair, and
motioning with her hand for the old lady to be
seated, while Weston shut the window and blew
out the night light. It is rather cold here, to be
sure, but Weston will start the fire, and you can
keep your cloak on for a while."
Stay in bed, Toto," said Weston, as his brother
skipped up. "You can tell Mamma as much as
you wish to, by and by; but you must obey me
now. Put the blanket around you, and sit down,
Meantime the little old woman had seated her-
self in the chair which Laure offered, and Laure
herself had taken a seat on Waddle's bed, and put
that cunning bundle on her lap; and a little hush
indicated that some remarks were expected from
the queer-looking stranger, who knew so much
about interesting matters.
"You must learn, in the first place," said she,
wobbling her prominent hood about as she shook
her head emphatically,-and the fire gave a crackle
of encouragement as it began fairlyto burn, -"that
your presents will probably arrive here to-morrow
morning! "
Toto whispered, before any one else could do
anything, "I don't want them to-morrow morn-
ing !"
But Laure and Weston clapped their hands, and
Waddle hammered her feet on Laure's knee like
two drumsticks, and sung out:
Ho, ho, ho 1 I want something woolly for my
present Upon which her sister hugged her until
Waddle's face was red enough to alarm Picket,
who stood looking at her with one ear hung up
like a flying sail; and he
gave a loud bark. He had
been sniffing around the
shoes of the old lady, and
had thought over the state
of things very carefully,
with the result that he
appeared twice as good-
natured as before she en-
tered the room.
"We 're delighted to
hear it!" responded Wes-
ton, in answer to her news. "To-day will be
rather solemn, though, and I am afraid we shall
look glum now and then. I was never without
Christmas presents on Christmas Day before, in
all my life."
It is quite well, then," returned the little old
lady, shaking her stick at him as if in play,
S"that you should share for once the discom-
fort of children who have never any Christmas
presents from anybody, although they see other



people enjoying the frolic of the season. Now
you know what a dreadful empty feeling belongs
to those who are only lookers-on."
"You talk as if we ate our presents!" inter-
rupted Toto, who had a way of being very impo-
lite with the pleasantest demeanor in the' world.
But the old lady treated his remark with the indif-
ference it deserved.
"I should think," threw in Laure, "that chil-
dren who never had anything given them would
not feel as badly as we do this morning. They
can't know how nice it is to have charming
Indeed they do !" said the old lady. "It
makes my heart ache to think how many children
are waking up this morning with a longing to have
some one put a pretty toy into their hands to keep
for their own-children who have never even
touched a rubber ball !"
Everybody was very silent.
I don't like to think of it Laure murmured,
at last. "We can not help it, although we should
be glad to; and so I think we would better forget
all about those poor children."
"Where are they, anyhow?" asked Toto.
The old lady flourished her stick at them all.
S"You can't do anything, can't you? Andwhere
are they, eh? Toto, they 're in this town, where
you live, if you choose to look for 'em; and Laure,
they 're able to take presents, if you give 'em a
chance to do so, you little goose !"
"Why does n't Santa Claus see to all that?"'
retorted Toto, uncrushed as ever.
"My, how hot that fire is getting!" replied the
A noise of water dashing into a tub, and of steps
approaching, told that Nurse was on the war-path
for children to wash and dress; and there was a
sudden jump and scream at the door when the good
woman perceived the strange figure sitting in the
middle ol" the room The figure rose, and bobbed
a courtesy .
Don't Ecream, Nursey," begged Weston.
Santa Claus has sent a messenger to say that
the presents could n't get here until to-morrow,
and we 've been talking 'it over. My dear
witch," he continued, getting up in his crazy-
quilt, and bowing low, looking like a kind of
Indian with his uncombed hair and gay apparel;
on second thoughts, I am sure it was right for
you to tell us of the poor children, and perhaps
we can set about looking after a few of them,
somehow. Anyhow, you're a dear old naunty,
are n't you! And with that Weston scampered
past the old lady and gave her hood a great smack
as he went,.and-laughed himself beyond hearing,
to get himself dressed. Laure 'tossed Waddle

into the gaping nurse's arms, and threw herself so
enthusiastically on the visitor that the poor soul
nearly toppled over; 'and with another kiss ran out
of the room, leaving the old lady to hobble miartl,
down the' hall in the directiohof' he guest-cham-
ber, chuckling, with Picket close behind her.''
Mrs. Carey issued from her room, calling "' Merry
Christmas!" along the hall, though her voice
quavered at the words. But out popped sundry
heads along the way she went, calling back in
various tones, Merry Christmas, Mamma "
And the tones sounded really jolly, for the chil-
dren all had the sense of there being fun under
the roof of the house, in spite of the queer kind of
celebration they were having. To be sure, Nurse
had pulled out a present for each from her big
pocket, and they had gloated over the little re-
membrances as if they had been setwith jewels,
they were so glad to have something. And then
Mr. Carey's voice shouted-out Merry Christ-
mas!" so loud that Picket was heard to bark
in reply, and go scurrying downstairs to punish
the man who dared to make as much turmoil in
the house as he himself made.
When the family assembled in the dining-room
for breakfast, there entered from the parlor an
extraordinary dame, whose white muslin cap was
so enormously high. in- the crown, out of all pro-
portion with herself, that the children danced and
shouted with delight. She wore a queer dress of
red flafinel, and a white lace neckerchief, fastened
with a broad black velvet bow; and her spectacles
must have been made out of ancient window-panes,
they were so big. She had heavy black eyebrows,
which seemed to curve up with great effort, and
her cheeks were very pink, and her nose was very
white, so that even Laure and Weston wondered
if they knew her. In she came, with a fine smile,
and bobbed a dozen courtesies, crying out:
Good Merry Christmas morning to you all !"
Then the laughing children caught sight of the
breakfast-table, whereon a few unaccustomed ob-
jects attracted their hilarious attention.
At Laure's plate there was a pile of twelve
books, covered with different bright colors of cam-
bric, to protect the binding; and numbered in
big numerals I., II., III., and so on. A card lying
upon this gayly tinted array revealed that the
books were from Aunt Fitch, and were to be read
through the coming year, one for every month.
They were splendid books in point of value, which
Laure had not.yet read; and Aunt Fitch had care-
fully graded 'them, in order that her little niece
would be able to understand everyone the better
for having read the one preceding it. :At Weston's
plate there was a "live rooster who could n't
move," as Toto expressed it, with a tail and neck



- as gloss. and superb in color as any that ever were
seen. "A card hung at the leg of this present,
which said..that under the feathers of its prettily
Curved back was a passage-way for coin, therein
tq be deposited: for telve months; and unqer
this piece of information were the words, '" N ~er
be late !" Toto was dumb with rapture ovgr a
portfolio of prints which had been cut'from il-
lustrated periodicals and weekly newspapers, and
pasted upon cardboard, ready for painting by
Toto, \%ho delighted in this branch of art. There
was no need of giving him a pairt-box, for he had
possessed a good one ever since he could saywhat
he wanted. Waddle's present was abig cat, made
6i white and brown worsted that stood up over its '
body as worsted does in a hairpin-ball. and itseyes
.ere two great yellow beads 'with black painted
in the middle, very lifelike. Around its neck was
a bright ribbon; and it stood up as well as anybody.
Waddle was never tired of trying.tofind out how
deep the far 'was. and how the fuzz/ytail never
would pull to pieces. These presents also were
from Auti Fitch. and her praises resounded.on all
sides; while the little lad in red flannel and the
peaked cap dodged among the members of the
tfmily, her odd aspect and bright speeches pro-
ducing burst, of merriment w wherever she went.
But there stood Mrs. Carey at the head of the
table, just a little pale, in spite of a smile: and
\Weston took notice of her regretful expression, and
rushed up to her, and flung his arms around her
neck, in the style of the da s when he was four yea! s
old and not at all in the dignified manner usual
with him since he felt himself halla man.
Ma.mma. darling, is n't this a jolly Christmas
morning, ch ?" said he. "And do \ou know, Santa
Claus.could n't get around last night. and sent the
queerest little creature, to let us under-tand that
he 'd be here soon ; and -"
"Oh!" broke in Laure, dear Mamma, if you
feel distressed about our stockings being empty, I
assure you we shall scold )ou roundly, for we are
perfectly reconciled -and and besides, Picket
has eaten them up !"
S" And if they 'd been full," joined in Weston
again. Picket would have pulled them dow n, all
,the same, and ruined everything; so it 's lucky
they \were empty."
"" No, he would n't! cried the small woman in
red. "Don't ',ou know I sent him up to the nursery
to amuse you all because they were empty? Bah "
"' And who are you, ma'am?" Toto inquired
'"You mo too funny interjected Waddle,
who seemed to be playing on her cat's back with
her lips, as if it were a shepherd's pipes, while
staring at the stranger.

"I say," cried Toto; "I wish you-'d tell me who
you are You don't look like anybody under the
sun. I guess you had a cloak over you, a little
while ago; did n't you ? "
Toto thought himself cleverer than the rest of
the household to have hit upon this fact; for fact
it was. But Laure and Weston could hardly help
shouting with fun to see him so mystifiedd as' to
who the stranger really might be.
"My name is Aunt Holiday," answered she in
squeaking tones, standing up straight with. her
arms akimbo, and shaking her head from side to
side rapidly, so that her cap looked tw ice as big'as
when it was quiet. Every one has a chance to
have a good time when I come for a visit." And
she suddenly stopped shaking her head, looked
fixedly at Toto, and then nodded at him. Toro
was still gazing at her in astonishment, when his
mother cheerily comnrianded the family to sit down
to breakfast, her.heart ha\ ing been wholly relieved
of its weight of disappointment when she found
that the children were not going to be wretched
.themselves. And Aunt Holiday was placed" at
once at Mr. Carey's right hand.
"'And to what shall I help you, my dear Aunt
Fitch?" began Grandmother, rubbing her fingers
together with morning briskness. ** Oh, dear,
whathave Isaid?"
The children burst out into screams of delight,
and pointed at the little woman in the big cap;
though Waddle follo..ed suit merely from habit,
and demanded:
"Whho's Aunt Fits?"
"Why, you're pointing at her '" shouted To'to.
"Of course it 's Aunt Fitch, with her funny fan-
cies "
Come here and welcome me, then," said th'e
outlandish guest, turning-to-him; -but-he-sat--vry
still-in his chaif, and-grew red in the face.
"Look different first," he answered, as if she
could change her appearance instantly whenever
she chose.
"Why, Toto don't you know your old Aunt
Fitch ? cried the voice he had learned-to love from
-its merry kindness; and his great-aunt pulled off
her big spectacles, and laid them by her plate.
Toto was at her elbow in -an instant,-kissing off
'her powder and rouge, and making-her- cap totter
to the floor, which gave Picket one of his mischiev-
ous scampers, during which the cap was absurdly
rumpled; but Aunt Holiday put it on again, be-
cause she said she could not tell fairy-stories unless
she wore .it.
Oh, yes, I have some rare stories, to tell you to-
day," she added; "and this is my' thinking-cap."
"Do you know," said Laure, ''I wish you
would tell us about the children who never have




presents, Aunt Holiday, before you give us fairy-
tales and other laughable stories. I 've thought
several times of the unhappy children since I met
you in that cloak of yours at break of day. I shall
never remember them without seeing your black
cloak. Mamma, do you suppose we can ever do
anything for the children who are forgotten ?"
"Every Saturday throughout the coming year,"

wise it \would be to adopt it; and then a great
many chilcr~n will be made happy. Parish Christ-
mas-trees go a long way; but I think we can carry
our basket where even they have not been heard
of; and I am sure children like to get into little
corners by themselves, with their treasures, after
finding them at their feet, as you might say, and
withoutnmuch talking and management."


interrupted Aunt Holiday, you all can devote
a quarter of an hour in the morning to making
nice gifts, such as they will best like; and on
next Christmas Day we can put them in a basket,
and take them around to the poorest houses in
town. Nobody will expect us, and they will be
glad we have come. You can also tell your young
friends of your plan, and they may see how

S"That is a lovely idea of yours, Aunt Fitch! "
cried .Mrs. Carey. "I engage myself to help the
children to carry it out; and if no one tries to
enter into the scheme who does not heartily care
to, I am sure there will be no fussy patronage
about it; but the unfortunate little ones will have
true pleasure,.and all in consequence of our chil-
dren's empty Christmas stockings to-day "




5s87.1 A MILLENNIUM. 185


BY E. W.

IF ever I should grow to be
So big that I could make a doll
With hair and dress and parasol,
I 'd make enough to make them free I

I think it is a burning shame
To see so many girls'and boys -

And men and women-with no toys
But such as few would care to claim.

If every one could be like me,
And have a doll as nice as mine,
With real eyes and joints and spine,
Oh, what a happy world 't would be I





WE-now had our meals regularly, for my wife
had gone to work in the kitchen. She declared it
was the most 'cluttered-up' place she ever saw in
her life, but she had made wood fires in the curious
stove, which it took her a long time to understand,
and we had hot tea and coffee and warm food of
various kinds. I always sat at table in the cap-
tain's place, with my wife, representing the most
honored passenger, at my right hand.
After a brief calm a breeze sprang up, and as
soon as we felt it, as we stood on deck,, looking
out for sails, we ran forward to see what effect it
had on our foresail. The great canvas was puffed
out and swelling. It made me proud to look at it.
'Now we shall sail before the wirId,' I said,
'if we sail at all. I don't know that one sail will
be enough to move the ship.'
"'But how about the waves coming in at the
side where it is stove in ?' asked my wife.
'We shall have the wind and waves at the
stern of the ship,' I said; 'so that will be all right.'
'' She thought this might be so, and we went to
the vessel's side and threw over chips, to see if it
really moved. Before long it was evident that the
steamer did move a little, for the chips gradually
began to float backward. When I saw that this
was truly the case, I gave a cheer.
"'Hurrah!' I cried, 'she 's off! And now
let's hurry up and steer!'
Up to the pilot-house we rushed, and we both
took hold of the great wheel. I pulled one side
up and my wife pressed the other side down, stand-
ing on the spokes with a full appreciation of the
importance of her weight. We put the rudder
around a little to the starboard, I think it was; and
then we watched the clouds, the only points of
comparison we had,. to see if it steered any. We
were pretty sure it did. If the clouds did not
move so as to deceive us, our bow had certainly
turned a little to the' right, and I also found that
there was a difference in the swelling of the sail.
We then brought the rudder back as before and
the sail filled out again beautifully. Then we knew
that we could steer.
"The success pleased us wonderfully. We for-
got our dangerous situation, our loneliness, and our
helplessness. Indeed, we ceased to consider our-
selves helpless,. Could we not make this. great
vessel go, and even Alter its cdiorse if we chose?
"My wife wished thoroughly to understand the

How fast do you think we are going?' said she.
"I replied that a-mile an hour was perhaps as
high a rate of speed as we could claim, but she
thought we were doing better than that. The
Gulf Stream itself would carry us some miles an
,hour,-she had read how many, but had forgot-
ten,-and certainly our sail would help a great
deal, besides keeping the steamer from drifting
along stern foremost.
"'And then,' she said, as long as the-vessel is
moving at all, which way do you think it would
be best to.steer it ?'
I had been thinking over that matter, and had
come to the conclusion that, with our limited facil-
ities for moving the steamer, it would be well to
keep before the wind. Indeed, I did not know
any other way to sail than this, which was exactly
the'principle on which, when I was a-boy, I used
to :.al little shingl, boats with paper squaresails
up ,,:, 1 prond.
"Arid thus we sailed the vessel. We steered
merely enough to keep the wind behind us; and,
as it blew from the south, I was well satisfied with
our course, for I knew that if we sailed north long
enough, we should near some part of the coast of
the United States, where'we should be certain to
meet vessels that would rescue us.
"The wind soon began to grow stronger, and it
was not long before we were moving on at a rate
which was quite perceptible. We did not remain
in the pilot-house all the time. I frequently tied
the wheel so that the rudder could not 'wobble,' as
my wife expressed it, and went up again when the
conduct of the sail seemed to indicate that a little
steering was needed. At night I tied up the wheel
with the rudder straight behind us,-I wish. I
could express the matter more nautically,-lighted
our deck-lights, andwent to bed. The first night
the wind was quite violent, and I was afraid it
would blow our sail away, but there was no help
for it. I could not take the sail in, nor did I wish
to cut it loose, for I might never get it back again
if the wind continued. So I saw that everything
was as tight and as strong as I could make it, and
then I retired in the hope that I would find it all
right in the morning, as I did.
"One night-I think it was the fourth night after
we set our sail-we were just going below to our
stateroom, when n'y wife looked over the side of
the vessel and gave a scream.
"'A light !'she cried.-' a vessel!' I looked and



saw it. It was a little speck of light down on the
top of the water in the horizon.
"'Look at it!' she said, clutching my arm.
'Now it 's down behind the waves-now it 's up
again! How regularly it rises and falls! Do you

"I carried her below and laid her in her berth.
I did not try to revive her, but with a chilling sen-
sation of despair I ran to the pilot-house. The
thought of land brought no happiness to me. In
a few hours we might have beaten to pieces on the


think- oh, do you really think it is coming this shore where stood that light of warning. With all
way ?' my strength I put the rudder around so as to turn
"I stood staring at it. At last I spoke. 'It is the ship's bow away from the light. Whether or
not a vessel,' I said; 'it is a light-house with an not the,wind would serve in.the new direction I
intermittent light.' could not tell, but I felt that I must do all that I
"She threw her arms around my neck. 'Oh, could-and this was all.- I tied up the wheel and
happiness! happiness!' she cried; 'it island!' And went down to my wife. I found her sitting up.
then she fainted. To her excited inquiries in regard to our approach


to shore, and, as she thought, to a safe end to our
strange voyage, I told her that I would avoid, if
possible, drawing near to the coast at night-that
in the morning we would be able to see what we
were about.
"After she had gone to sleep, I went on deck
again and I staid there all night, going below at
intervals. An hour or two before dawn the light
disajpeared altogether. We had floated or sailed
away from it-at least I had reason to hope so.
When the day broke bright and clear, I got a glass
from the captain's room, but could see no sign of
"My wife was much disappointed when she

It was a pilot-boat. Soon we could distinguish a
great figure 3 upon its well-filled sail.
"In an hour, apparently, but it may have been
in much less time than that, the pilot with four
negro men clambered on board. They came up a
rope-ladder that I let down to them. I had a
nervous time finding the ladder, which I had not
noticed until they called for it.
"I can not attempt to describe our feelings, or
the amazement of the men when I told our
story. We were off Charleston, South Carolina.
I asked the pilot if he could take us in with our
sails. He said he thought he could take us along
until we could signal a tug, but he did not consent




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4r A > 5
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41 J%~;C= -..1 ; V -


came on deck, but I explained that we did not wish
to make a landing in this ship. But if we were
near the coast we must soon meet some vessel;
so we kept the ship before the wind as well as we
could, and waited, and looked out, and hoped, and
feared, and that afternoon we saw a sail.
"It was a small vessel and was approaching us.
It grew larger and larger. I made it out to be a
schooner. We stood hand in hand, with our eyes
steadily fixed upon it. It came nearer and nearer.

to do this until he and his men had made an
examination of our ship's injuries.
"'Can't we go ashore in the pilot's vessel?' my
wife asked. 'There are some men on board of it.
They could take us in.'
"'No, my dear,' I said. 'Let us stick to our
steamer. She has floated well enough so far; and
she will bear us to shore, I think.'
"So she consented to stay by the steamer, and
she felt better about it when she saw how the men



went to work. They went about it as if they knew
how. They laughed at our foresail and they set
it right. I had not imagined there was anything
wrong about it. They hauled up the jib and set it.
They raised the big mainsail on the after-deck.
The wind was fair and strong, and now the steamer
really seemed to move. The pilot-boat sailed
rapidly away ahead of us. The pilot thought we
had been near the inner edge of the Gulf Stream
when the collision occurred. He also thought that
our sail had helped us along somewhat during
our voyage toward the coast. There had been a
strong south-eastern breeze during most of the
"The next morning a tug met us, and we were
towed up to the city, and eventually found our-
selves at anchor in the harbor. Our vessel was
an object of great interest, and a number of boats
came out to us. But we did not go on shore. I
refused to leave the vessel or to allow anybody to
advise me to do or not to do anything. My wife
set to work to pack up our effects.
I sent a telegram to the owners of the vessel in
New York and a note to a lawyer in the city; The
latter came on board in due time, and I put my
case before him. By his advice I paid the pilot
and the captain of the tug-and this took every
dollar I had,.with some money I borrowed of the
lawyer--and then I made, through him, the
formal claim that I had found the steamer aban-
doned at sea, and that I had brought her into port,
having employed and paid for all the assistance I
had had, except what was given me by my wife.
And I also demanded salvage proportionate to the
value of the vessel and cargo.
"This: scheme came into my head while the
pilot-boat was approachingus at sea. And there-
fore it was that I declined to go ashore in the pilot-
boat, and so abandon the steamer to the pilot and
his men.
"There was a lawsuit brought by me. The
affair was submitted to arbitration and settled

satisfactorily. The pilot made a claim, and, by
advice, I allowed him a portion of the salvage.
"The vessel contained a valuable cargo of fine
woods, coffee and other South American products,
and, after weeks of valuations, appraisements, and
arbitrations, during which my wife went home to.
her boy, I came into the possession of a sum which
was to me a modest fortune. I could again go
into business for myself, or I could live upon my
income in a quiet way for the rest of my life.
"Very little water was found in the hold of the
Joseph Barker. The panic among the sailors
had doubtless been caused by the sight of the
waves through the gap in the side of the vessel,
and by the spray dashing through the aperture-
the extent of which could not be easily determined
from the inside,on account of the arrangement of
the cargo.
"There was great sorrow and anxiety on the
part of the families and friends of the crew and
passengers of the steamer, and I received hundreds
of letters and many visits of inquiry in regard to
the probable fate of those unfortunate persons, but
I could tell very little, and that little was by no
means comforting.
"In a couple of weeks, however, news came.
The ship that had collided-with us had not put
back; but, at the end of the second day after the
disaster, a schooner bound for Martinique had
picked up all the boats except our little one and
the overloaded boat of the first mate. It had
then continued its voyage, no search being made
for the steamer, which was supposed to have gone
down. The survivors were brought to the United
States by another schooner.
"And now, boys," said Mr. Bartlett, "don't
you think that was a very fortunate" opening for a
man in my circumstances ?"
"What opening, sir ? asked several of the boys.
"Why, the hole in the side of the ship," said
Mr. Bartlett.
Oh!" .exclaimed the boys in chorus.



.P F.RANCF-. H,,r,-:.:N iJiihNt i r.

SN '%ENT th'

f | (p r p r rpar d

Iuppe f.-
F a i r C.' ,
"-.-ri' -.- L. t

,: E l-,Im But

hungry at
all, he was so eager for night to come, so that he
might see the fairies. When he went to his loft
under the roof, he thought at first he could not
sleep; but suddenly his hand touched the fairy
whistle and he fell asleep at once, and did not
waken again until a moonbeam fell brightly upon
his face and aroused him. Then hejumpedup and
ran to the hole in the wall to look out, and he saw
that the hour had come, and that the moon was

j-,"-"1- :. in. 0l, zk tha ir it -.larin '.g
hFlrt had co-p, urid :r the :k-tr.: .
Hc lipped dov i -tre o hghirl that hs mai-ter
h-ard r.:.ithiir.,. and [lt n hi.: ftouidI himself out a
the beautil'ul rUii r h [te r acOrnthigit .: bright
rhalt t as e.1 ht.:r th.:. dttint e. And [-re %as
R.-b rin GC. .df. ll.:i. .' ii 'i.-- l l:.r i 'm u!id: ti.e ire e!
He i. l -, r, n el, dr:-._.'l ith, r. f,:, a .o:.n,,nr. Fa:ir)-
for -: r, Ikn ,r-v liii. H,1. s.ur 1- made out
1 ri.e purple i :t pveral; .:. a pin '- .li:h v.as
Ilr tin.-i [ain anr, ordiiri'. le et, and lhe v'ore
,pl umr,:_, -nd [.ic':-,1 -nd1 a rul r,- n;lirnd hi.: ne:k,
aril ii- 1ii- b,: lr i Ii:rui -t tin ', :i..r ,l. r.:.r haIlf
,- bon .,,i- h ini.--, t r,:- dlh.
'1 T:, r.. m. : .5:,t ;our *:h-.uld, r, !,c :_-" I -o '.', -
l',:",:,, an,1 I ., ill ,li,:.i :u t11-c ',, 1 ,."
Fairyfoot took him up, and they went their way
through the forest. And the strange part of it
was that though Fairyfoot thought he knew all
the forest by heart, every path they took was new
to him, and more beautiful than anything he had
ever seen before. The moonlight seemed to grow
brighter and purer at every step, and the sleeping
flowers sweeter and lovelier, and the moss greener
and thicker. Fairyfoot felt so happy and gay that
he forgot he had ever been sad and lonely in his life.


Robin Goodfellow, too, seemed to be in very
good spirits. He related a great many stories to
Fairyfoot, and, singularly enough, they all were
about himself and divers and sundry fairy ladies
who had been so very much attached to him that
he scarcely expected to find them alive at the
present moment. He felt quite sure they must
have died of grief in his absence.
I have caused a great deal of trouble in the
course of my life," he said, regretfully, shaking
his head. "I, have sometimes wished I could
avoid it, but that is.impossible. Ahem !-When
my great-aunt's grandmother rashly and inoppor-
tunely changed me into a robin, I was having a
little flirtation with a little creature who was really
quite attractive. I might have decided to engage
myself to her. She was very charming. Her name
was Gauzita. To-morrow I shall go and place
flowers on her tomb."
"I thought fairies never died," said Fairyfoot.
"Only on rare occasions and only from love,"
answered Robin. They need n't die unless they
wish to. They have been known to do it through
love. They frequently wish they had n't after-
ward,-in fact, invariably,-and then they can
come to life again. But Gauzita--"
"Are you quite sure she is dead ?" asked Fairy-
"Sure!" cried Mr. Goodfellow, in wild indig-
nation. "Why, she has n't seen me for a couple
of years. I 've molted twice since last we met.
I congratulate myself that she did n't see me
then," he added in a lower voice. "Of course
she 's dead," he added, with solemn emphasis-
"as dead as a door nail."
Just then Fairyfoot heard some enchanting
sounds, faint but clear. They were sounds of del-
icate music and of tiny laughter, like the ringing
of silver bells.
"Ah !" said Robin Goodfellow, "there they
are! But-it seems to me they are rather gay, con-
sidering they have not seen me for so long. Turn
Into the path."
Almost immediately they found themselves in
a-beautiful little dell, filled with moonlight, arid
with glittering stars in the cup of every flower;
for there were thousands of dewdrops, and every
dewdrop shone like a star. There were also crowds
and crowds of tiny men and women, all beautiful,
all dressed in brilliant, delicate dresses, all laugh-
ing or dancing or feasting at the little tables, which
were loaded with every dainty the most fastidious
fairy could wish for.
"Now," said Robin Goodfellow, "you shall sec
me sweep all before me. Put me down."
Fairyfoot put him down, and stood and watched
him while he walked forward with a very grand

manner. He went straight to the gayest and larg-
est group he could see. It was a group of gentle-
men fairies who were crowding around a lily of the
valley, on the bent stem of which a tihy lady fairy
was sitting, airily swaying herself to and fro, and
laughing and chatting with all her admirers at
She seemed to be enjoying herself immensely; in-
deed, it was disgracefully plain that she was having a
great deal of fun. One gentleman fairy was fanning
her, one was holding her programme, one had her
bouquet, another her little scent bottle, and those
who had nothing to hold for her were scowling furi-
ously at the rest. It was evident that she was very
Popular and that she did not object to it at all;
in fact, the way her eyes sparkled and danced was
distinctly reprehensible.
You have engaged to dance the next waltz with
every one of us !" said one of her adorers. How
are you going to do it ? "
Did I engage to dance with all of you? she
said, giving her lily stem the sauciest little swing,
which set all the bells ringing. Well, I am not
going to dance it with all."
"Not with me ?" the admirer with the fan whis-
pered in her ear.
She gave him the most delightful little look, just
to make him believe she wanted to dance with him
but really could n't. Robin Goodfellow saw her.
And then she smiled sweetly upon all the rest,
every one of them. Robin Goodfellow saw that
"I am going to sit here and look at you and let
you talk to me," she said; I doso enjoy brilliant
All the gentlemen fairies were so much elated by
this that they began to brighten up, and settle their
ruffs, and fall into graceful attitudes, and think of
sparkling things to say; because every one of them
knew from the glance of her eyes in his direction,
that he was the one whose conversation was brill-
iant; every one knew there could be no mistake
about its being himself that she meant. The way she
looked just proved it. Altogether, it was more than
Robin Goodfellow could stand, for it was Gauzita
who was deporting herself in this unaccountable
manner, swinging on lily stems and "going on,"
so to speak, with several partners at once in a
way to chill the blood of any proper young lady
fairy--who had n't any partner at all. It was
Gauzita herself.
He made his way into the very center of the
"Gauzita! he said. He thought, of course, she
would drop right off her lily stem. But she did n't.
She simply stopped swinging a moment, andstared
at him.


"Gracious! she exclaimed. "And who are
"Who am I?" cried Mr. Goodfellow severely.
"Don't you remember me ?"
"No," she said coolly; "I don't, not- in the
Robin Goodfellow almost gasped forbreath: He
had never met with anything so outrageous in his
"You don't remember me," he cried. "Me!
Why, it 's impossible "
"Is it?" said Gauzita with a touch of dainty
impudence. "What's your name ?"

ulous thing to be changed into I What was his
name ?"
Oh, yes I know whom you mean. Mr. --
ah Goodfellow said the fairy with the. fan.
So it was," she said, looking Robin over again.
" And he has been pecking at trees and things, and
hopping in and out of nests ever since, I suppose.
How absurd! And we have been enjoying our-
selves so much since he went away I I think I
never did have so lovely a time as I have had dur-
ing these last two years. I began to know you,"
she added, in a kindly tone, "just about the time
he went away."

Robin Goodfellow was almost paralyzed. Gauzita
took up a' midget of an eyeglass which 'she-had
dangling 'from a thread of a gold chain, and she
stuck'it'if her eye and tilted her impertinent little
chiin 'nd looked him over.. Notthlat she was'near-
sighted-not a bit of it;-it was -just one of her
tricks' and manners.
"Dear me "she said. "You do look a trifle
familiar. It isn't, it can't be, Mr. Mr. ,"
then:she turned to the' ad6rer who held her fan',-
"it can't'be'Mr. -, the' one who wias changed
into a robin, you know," she. said. "Such a ridic-

"You have been enjoying yourself?" almost
shrieked Robin- Goodfellow. '..
"Well," 'said' Gauzita, in: inexcusable slang,
" I must smile." And she did 'smile.'
And nobody has pined away and 'died? cried
I have n't," said.Gauzita, swinging. herself and
ringingherbells again:."I 'ealljy ha e n't haliime."
Robin Goodfellow turned around, and rushed
.out of the'group. He regarded. his ras;insulting.
He went back to Fairyfoot in such a hurry that he
tripped on his sword and fell and rolled over so




many times that Fairyfoot had to stop him and
pick him up.
Is she dead ? asked Fairyfoot..
No," said Robin; "she is n't! "
He sat down on a small mushroom and clasped
his hands about his knees and looked mad -just
mad. Angry or indignant would n't express it.
"I have a greatmindto go and be a misanthrope,"
he said..
"Oh, I would n't," said Fairyfoot. He did n't
know what a misanthrope was; but he thought it
must be something unpleasant.
Would n't you ? "said Robin, looking up at him.
No," answered Fairyfoot.
Well," said Robin, "I guess I wont. Let's go
and have some fun. They are all that way. You
can't depend on any of them. Never trust one
of them. I believe that creature has been engaged
as much as twice since I left. By a singular coin-
cidence," he added, I have been married twice
myself- but of course that's different. I'm a man,
you know, and well, it 's different. We wont
dwell on it. Let 's go and dance. But wait a
minute first." He took a little bottle from his
"If you remain the size you are," he continued,
"you will tread on whole sets of lanciers and de-
stroy entire germans. If you drink this, you will
become as small as we are; and then when you
are going home, I will give you something to make
you large again." Fairyfoot drank from the little
flagon, and immediately he felt himself growing
smaller and smaller until at last he was as small as
his companion.
"Now, come on said Robin.
On they.went and joined the fairies, and they
danced and played fairy games and feasted on fairy
dainties, and were so gay and happy that Fairy-
foot was wild with joy. Everybody made him
welcome and seemed to like him, and the lady
fairies were simply delightful, especially Gauzita,
who took a great fancy to him. Just before the
sun rose, Robin gave him something from another
flagon, and he grew large again, and two minutes
and three seconds and a half before daylight the
ball broke up, and Robin took him home and left
him, promising to call for him the next night.
Every night throughout the whole summer the
same thing happened. At midnight he went to
the fairies' dande; and at two minutes and three
seconds and a half before dawn he came home.
He was never lonely any more, because all day long
he could think of what pleasure he would -have
when the night came; and besides that, all the
fairies were his friends. But when the summer
was coming to an end, Robin Goodfellow said to
him: This is our last dance-at least, it will be

our last for some time. At this time of the year
we always go back to our own country, and we
don't return until spring."
This made Fairyfoot very sad. He did not know
how he could bear to be left alone again; but he
knew it could not be helped; so he tried to be as
cheerful as possible, and he went to the final
festivities and enjoyed himself more than ever
before, and Gauzita gave him a tiny ring for a
parting gift. But the next night, when Robin did
not come for him, he felt very lonely indeed, and
the next day he was so sorrowful that he wandered
far away into the forest in the hope of finding
something to cheer him a little. He wandered so
far that he became very tired and thirsty, and he
was just making up his mind to go home, when he
thought he heard the sound of falling water. It
seemed to come from behind a thicket of climbing
roses; and he went toward the place and pushed
the branches aside a little so that he could look
through. What he saw was a great surprise to
him. Though it was the end of the summer, in-
side the thicket the roses were blooming in thou-
sands all around a pool as clear as crystal, into
which the sparkling water fell from a hole in a rock
above. It was the most beautiful, clear pool that
Fairyfoot had ever seen, and he pressed his way
through the rose branches, and, entering the circle
they inclosed, he knelt by the water and drank.
Almost instantly his feeling of sadness left him,
arid he felt quite happy and refreshed. He stretched
himself on the thick perfumed moss and listened to
the tinkling of the water, and it was not long before
he fell asleep.
When he awakened, the moon was shining, the
pool sparkled like a silver plaque crusted with
diamonds, and two nightingales were singing in
the branches over his head. And the next moment
he found out that he understood their language
just as plainly as if they had been human beings
instead of birds. The water with which he had
quenched his thirst was enchanted, and had given
him this new power.
Poor boy said one nightingale, "he looks
tired. I wonder where he came from."
Why, my dear," said the other; "is it possible
you don't know that he is Prince Fairyfoot ? "
"What! said the first nightingale-"the King
of Stumpinghame's son who was born with small
"Yes," said the second. "And the poor child
has lived in the forest, keeping the swineherd's
pigs, ever since. And he is a very nice boy, too-
never throws stones at birds or robs nests."
What a pity he does n't know about the pool
where the red berries grow said the first night-

VOL. XIV.--13.

(To be concluded.)

194 O [JAnARY
T' M.-.A rSe M-ACAW

-h r"e once ucs a Mystic Macaw,

S :- Cd d fcihe lampblacK. and soot



ETON COLLEGE stands in one of the most beau- did Henry to be crowned King of France, for the
tiful places in all England, on the banks of the French soon drove all the English out.
Thames, under the very walls of Windsor Castle. At home there was fighting, too, and soon the
Do you not think that the Eton boys ought to be .everlasting Wars of the Roses began. ;The poor
very happy, with the Thames to row upon and.with king, who wished nothing so much as to be quiet
such interesting places as Runnymede and Stoke among his books and to finish Eton College and
Pogis and Windi.or Castle and the great park all King's College at Cambridge, which he was build-
about them? Well, I think they are happy. ing at the same time, was made crazy by it all-
But the poor boy king who founded Eton and I don't wonder at it. He recovered his senses
School was anything but happy. He ought to after two years, but it was not long before the rebels
have been happy, for he was born on St. Nicholas's captured him and threw him into prison, and for
day. Henry the Sixth, King of England, Lord five years there was another king. Then there
of Ireland, and Heir of France," was born on De- came a revolution and Henry was king again, but
cember 6, 1421 ; but of all the unhappy kings that only for a few months, when another battle ended
ever lived, I think this poor Henry the Sixth must all. He had time to hear that his son was dead
have been one of the unhappiest. and his wife a prisoner, and that everything was
Poor Henry's troubles began early. His father lost, and he died in the Tower of London, when
died when he was eight months old. The little Eton School, or Eton College, as its real name is,
king was crowned at Westminster when he was was thirty years old.
eight years old; and then they took him over to So you see, life was trouble, trouble, trouble all
Paris and had him crowned King of France-for the time for King Henry. I don't wonder that he
the English claimed France, too, in those days, did n't like to have those first Eton boys come over
and there was war all the time. But little good it to Windsor Castle very often; he knew very well


that Windsor Castle at that time was n't the place
where people were happy. And when he did see
any of the boys there, he generally gave them a
little present of money and said, "Be good boys,
meek and docile, and servants of the Lord."
I think that almost the only pleasure Henry
could have had was in seeing the walls of Eton
rising. From the windows and terraces of his
castle he could look down upon the men at their
work, and watch the progress of the buildings.
He himself laid the foundation-stone of the col-

and if King Henry could come to life and look down
upon Eton from the great Round Tower of Wind-
sor, and could see the brick buildings in the green
gardens, and scattered all through the town,-the
libraries, and the Upper School, and the New
Schools, and the Mathematical Schools, and the
head-master's house, and all the other masters'
houses,-I am sure that it would take him a long
while to decide just where he was.
Iwill tell you about the "collegers." When Eton
was founded, there were to be a provost, a head-


lege, and he soon had quite a little army of masons
and carpenters there, most of them at work upon
the great chapel, which he meant to have larger
and more magnificent than even King's College
Chapel at Cambridge. But the chapel plans were
changed after the king's death, and the Eton build-
ing is not nearly so fine as the Cambridge Chapel.
But one does not see at Eton to-day much that
was built by King Henry's workmen-only the
great chapel and a part of the hall where the
boys dine, portions of some of the old brick build-
ings around the cloisters, and the Lower School,
which formerly had above it the famous Long
Chamber, where the seventy collegers used to sleep.
But Long Chamber is now cut up into many rooms,

master, a lower master, who was called the usher,
ten fellows, ten chaplains, ten clerks, sixteen chor-
isters, seventy scholars, and thirteen almsmen-
for, in those old times, they used to have a place
set apart for the poor in almost all institutions.
The almsmen at Eton were sick men who could n't
work. They had to know the Lord's Prayer and the
Ave Maria and the Creed before they could be
taken in; and whenever they went out, they had
to wear gowns. But the almshouse was done away
with while Henry was yet alive; and now I be-
lieve the "fellows" have been done away with,
too. The "fellows" were priests, who could
spend their whole lives in study at the college,
but who were not allowed to marry. They had


very nice rooms, and all that they had to do was to
read prayersin the chapel, and to preach sometimes.
The seventy scholars were to be poor boys, of
good character, not less than eight years old nor
more than twelve when admitted, and were to
receive their education and support from the col-
lege, free of charge. :The. seventy scholars were
appointed .by the provost and head-master of
Eton and the provost and two fellows of King's
College, Cambridge; but now they are.admitted
by competitive examination, and it is considered
a very great honor to belong to the seventy.
These seventy are the "collegers." The other
boys, those who live at the school at their own
expense, are called "oppidans." Of course there
are ten times as many oppidans as collegers. Only
the collegers have rooms in the old college build-
ings and dine in the hall. The oppidans live in
the different masters' houses about the town. Every
master has charge of thirty or forty boys, and every
boy has a little room of his own. And very snug
rooms they are, too, with the tables covered with
books, and pretty things from home on the man-
tel-shelf, and the walls decorated with photo-
graphs and pictures of hounds and horses. And the
School Almanac is sure to be there, and the rules of
the boat-clubs, and
all sorts of hats,
S and caps, and
:-.. d cricket-bats,
S o ~. and pewter
4 cups won in
f ivi, -_f, At the races.


ST .

Latin and Greek have always been the great stud-
ies at Eton. Formerly, in fact, almost nothing
else was studied-no mathematics, no geography
except ancient geography, no chemistry, no phys-
ics. But all that is changed now. There is a
science school at Eton, and a mathematical school
also; music has taken the place of flogging, and
there are teachers of French and German as well
as of Latin and Greek. And the collegers are
allowed to leave off their black gowns during play-
hours now; until a few years ago, they had to
wear them all the time.
I went to Eton twice while I was in England.
We could see the great white chapel with its spires
as we walked from Windsor; and the first thing that
we saw when we went through the big gateway into
the school yard was the statue of Henry the Sixth.
It stands in the middle of the yard and is very much
loved by the boys. Once, when practical jokes were
abounding in the school, some of the boys, one dark
night, carried off the scepter from the statue; but
there was such an outcry among the boys at this
insult to the memory of the founder, that the scep-
ter soon came back in a box.
Across the yard, in front of us, beyond King
Henry's statue, was the Provost's Lodge, filling
that whole side of the square, and with the great
clock-tower in the middle.
On the right, as you stand in the gateway, is
the great chapel, one of the most magnificent
churches in all England, though not half so mag-
nificent as Henry meant it to be; and beyond that
is the hall where the seventy collegers dine, with
its fine stained-glass windows, and big stone fire-
places, and portraits of famous Etonians. On the
left is the Lower School, with the collegers' rooms
above it, where Long Chamber used to be; and
over our heads, as we stand in the gateway, is the
SUpper School. The Upper School is a very long
room. It is full of stools for the boys, and there
are five desks for the masters, and great curtains
Which can be drawn to divide
S f the long room up into small
rooms. There are busts of
Kings and queens and states-
men all around; and the
oaken panels of the walls are
Small cut up with the names of
Sold Eton boys. In one.very
Small space, you can see the
names of Chatham, Howe,
Wellington, Canning, Gray,
and Fox. Fox cut his name
in enormous letters. At the
S end of the Upper School is
the head-master's room, a
very handsome room, full of



pictures of Athens and .'.. ----.-
Rome. Here the sixth
form is taught, and here
is, or used to be, the ter-
rible "flogging-block."
But I think -that the
old Lower School, with
its rows of rough, worn-
out desks and benches,
is even more interesting
than the Upper School.
Here, too, the windows ... ..
and the posts are all cut -*---
up with the names of
those who, in the old days, ob-
tained scholarships and went.i
up to King's College at Cam- -z--
The great school yard is the
center of everything at Eton. Perhaps a lesson is
just over, and two or three hundred boys are gath-
ered in little groups around King Henry's statue,
making. plans for the afternoon-all wearing their
little black gowns and square caps with tassels on
them. Or it is not quite lesson-time, and they are
clustered in the cloisters under the Upper School.
Or the chapel bell is tolling and the chaplains are
hurrying across the square to say prayers. Or it
is playtime, and the boys are pouring through the
gate under the clock-tower, to cricket or "fives"
or the river.: Some of them have tall hats on and
look to Americans like little old men.
We went through the gate under the clock-tower
into the cloisters; and you may be quite sure we
stopped in the corner to drink at the college-pump.
All Eton boys are loyal to the college-pump; they
think there is no such water as that anywhere else
in the world.
The stairs to the Library lead from the cloisters
in which the pump stands. There is another library
in the new buildings, where all the boys can go and
read; but this is the great Library.
I suppose," said the old gray-bearded man in
the library,- a tall, thin, old man, with a black
velvet skull-cap,- after he had told us many things
about poor King. Henry, "that you Americans
don't care much about our kings."
We told him that we cared a great deal about
them, and wished they all had done such wise and
good things as did Henry when he founded Eton
"The boys.must have royal times here," I said.
"Indeed they do! Canning said.once at one
of the Eton dinners in London Canning was one
of the.greatest of our Eton boys, you know-that
whatever success might come in after life, and
whatever ambitions be realized, no one is ever

again so great a man as when he was a sixth-
form boy at Eton," answered our guide.
"Did the boys have any games a hundred years
ago ?" I asked.
"Games! Why, they don't begin to have so
many games at Eton now as they had then. And
they used to have'great times at the Christopher,'
which was a famous old. inn here in Eton. Dr.
Hawtrey had it broken up and made into a house
for one of the masters. Dr. Hawtrey vas our Dr.
Arnold, you know. Nobody could translate Ho-
mer like Dr. Hawtrey. He it was, too, who broke
up Montem.?'
"Montem! What was Montem ?"
"What, you never heard of .Montem-Eton
Montem ?"
"Well, an old Eton boy would tell you that
you might as well never have been born as not to
know about Montem. Why, Montem was as old
as Queen Elizabeth's time, and Queen Victoria
was very sorry to have to consent to have it broken
up. In old times it was celebrated every year, but
later on only once in three years. The senior col-
leger was captain of Montem, and the next six col-
legers were salt-bearer, marshal, ensign, lieutenant,
sergeant-major, and steward. The captain of the
oppidans was always a salt-bearer, and the next to
him was colonel. The other oppidans in the sixth
form were sergeants, and all the oppidans in the
fifth form, corporals. It was a great thing to
be captain of Montem; and then the captain
sometimes made 1ooo out of it.

x ;- ----



"On the morning of Montem day, the captain
gave a great breakfast in the Hall to the fifth and
sixth forms. Then the boys marched twice around
the school yard, the ensign waved the great flag,
the corporals drew their swords, and the procession
started through the Playing Fields to Salt Hill,* in
a long line, accompanied by two or three regi-
mental bands. IThe officers wore red tail-coats,
white trousers, cocked hats with feathers, and reg-
imental boots; and the lower boys wore blue coats
with brass buttons, white waistcoats and trousers,

the date of the year, and a Latin motto referring
to Montem day.
"Everybody went to Montem. King'George
always used to go, and Queen Victoria went.
There was always a Montem poet,' who dressed
in patchwork, and wore a crown; and he drove
about the crowd in a donkey-cart, reciting his ode
and flourishifig'copies of it for sale.
"When the procession came to the top of Salt
Hill, the ensign waved his flag a second time, and
that ended the celebration; only the boys and the


silk stockings and pumps, and carried slender white
poles. But before this, long before sunrise, the
salt-bearers and their twelve assistants had gone,
some on foot and some in gigs, to their places on
all the great roads leading to Eton, to beg 'salt'
from everybody they met. Salt meant money;
and everybody had to give them salt. George
the Third and Queen Charlotte always gave fifty
guineas apiece, and much larger sums than that have
been given. The money all went to the captain of
Montem, to help him pay his expenses at the uni-
versity to which he was to go after leaving Eton.
The salt-bearers carried satin money-bags and
painted staves, and as receipts for the salt that
they secured they gave little printed tickets with

visitors all went to the inns at Windsor for a big
But when the railway was opened from Lon-
don to Windsor, it brought down a very rough
crowd to see Montem, so that it was no better than
Greenwich fair. And then it broke into the boys'
studies badly, and Dr. Hawtrey thought that it
should better be stopped."
But how long we were staying in the old library,
while the sun was so bright outside and the gates
were all open to the green Playing Fields1 Is
there another place on earth so beautiful as Eton
Playing Fields? We walked among the thick
elms to the Sixth-form Bench, by the river; we
sat looking up at the walls of the Castle and the

*A little eminence on the Bath road, near Eton, where the demand for contributions was first made, and from which the name of
Montem came ad montem, "to the hill."




great Round Tower, and back at the brick walls
of the school, with the white chapel rising up
high above them; and then we walked in Poet's
Walk," and over the little old Sheep Bridge to the
Cricket Field.
The Eton boys are great at cricket. The col-
legers used to play against the oppidans. At first
the oppidans beat them badly, and they were so
mortified that they put black crape on their hats,
and hung them up in Long Chamber. But by
and by they had a famous batter, whose name was
John Harding, who made wonderful scores- once
as many as seventy or eighty. He hit a ball from
the middle of the Upper Shooting Fields, over the
chestnut trees, into'the Lower Shooting Fields -
when you go to Eton, you can see how far that is.
The collegers carried him back to:.the school on
their shoulders, and the last bat he used is still
kept as a trophy.
Every summer Eton plays against Harrow, at
Lord's Cricket Grounds, in London; and there
is almost as much excitement over the game as
over the Oxford and Cambridge boat-race on the
Thames. I went to see it when I was in London.
Then the Eton boys play foot-ball a great deal.
And they have a game, which is n't played any-
where else, called "fives." I don't know much
about fives. They used to play it in the school-
yard, between the buttresses of the chapel; but
now 'two regular fives courts have been built.
The Eton boys have splendid times on the river.
They row up and down for miles, and sometimes
have-races with the Westminster boys. They
usid to have a gay procession of.boats every June,
and great crowds-efrisitors came to see it. The pro-
cession started at six o'clock; the boys all dressed
-in-uniform, and the stiee!er in very bright colors,
and a crow-d o' the bo:,\ would follow along the
banks of the ,iver, on horseback. No boy can go
on the river urnle. ihe can swim, so almost all of the
Eton boys learn to swim.
We found. down by the\river a jolly little round
man, with a big. round, red face, and little, round,
twinkling eyes. He was sitting there on the grass
"'y, the river, irth his legs dangling over the bank.
He told us a great mn.ir amusing stories about
Dr. Keate. and other masteis, and about how the
boys used t.:. burn their Greek grammars in the
yard, and let off.fire-ciackers behind the masters;
and how they iSed to sing songs in the school-
room, so that Dr. Keate would n't know who did
it; and how the whole sixth form once "struck"
and threw their books into the Thames. But
the funniest stories were about the scrapes the
boys used to get into when they. went poaching
in Windsor Park-for they used to do that, and
sometimes were caught and locked up. One dark

night two of the oppidans had planned a fine ex-
cursion. One of them-he was afterward a cab-
inet minister of Great Britain-was getting out of
his window very quietly, thinking he heard his
friend below waiting for him.
Is all right?" he,,whispered.
Right as my left leg answered a voice from
below, and the boy dropped into the arms of the
"You ought to have been an Eton boy your-
self," I said to the little round man.
"Yes; I wish I had been. But they used to
flog 'em terribly."
"I suppose they did," I assented.
"Why," said the little man, "Dr. Keate one
time flogged more than eighty boys atonce. They
were fifth-form boys, and they had started a little
rebellion against the doctor. So he had the tutors
bring them to him, two or three at a time, after
they had gone to bed, and he took'em one by one;
it was after midnight before he was through. :Well,
at last the old flogging-block itself was carried off.
That was when Dr. Hawtrey was master. One
morning -it was the day after a boat-race against
Westminster-a lot of the boys were sent up to
his room to be flogged; but the block was n't
there, nor the birch, neither. Three of the boys
managed to get the block- out: in the night, and
sent- it up to London. It was the seat of the
President of the Eton Block Club' up in London
for along time. Nobody could belong to that club
who had n't been flogged at Eton three times.
The boys used to talk the flogging over in their
debating society. They don't have such flogging
any more."
And then the little round man told us abotit the
Eton Debating Society and some queer things that
have happened there.
"They used to call the fellows who"telonged to
the society the Literati," he said; "but they gave up
that word long ago, and the club got the name of
'Pop'-I don't know how, but they called it 'Pop.'"
All the way back to Slough, and beyond, we
could see, from the car windows, the long gray
Castle and the great Round Tower, and beside it,
among the trees, the red. brick walls of Eton, and
the tall white chapel; and the words of Gray's
sweet poem kept running through my head:
Ye distant spires, ye antique towers,
That crown the wat'ry glade,
Where grateful science.still adores
Her Henry's holy shade;
I feel the gales that from ye blow
A momentary bliss bestow,
As, waving fresh their gladsome wing,
My weary soul they seem to soothe,
And redolent of joy and youth,
To breathe a second spring."





WHEN I was in Windsor I lived for a week in a
little old house on the river bank; for, as you know,
the Thames runs through the town. From my
window I could see the tall, gray church with its
many windows, and the red buildings of Eton
College, topped with their battlements and tower.
When I went out, if I turned to my left, I looked
up at the castle towering high above the town.
Then I met red-coated grenadiers and fife and drum
corps, and tourists with guide-books in their hands
and field-glasses slung over their shoulders. But at
certain hours of the af-
ternoon, it seemed to me
the only people on the 'i:.-
street were a never-end- :
ing procession of young
men and boys, all wear-
ing tall silk hats. The
more grown-up, who had
on tailed coats, wore
white cravats, as if they
were so many young cler-
gymen. The younger
boys, still in jackets, had
black neckties. These
were the Eton "young
gentlemen," as the '" I
townspeople call them.
By their tall hats and
ties you may know them,
for these Etonians must
never be seen without I
them, except on the play-
grounds, or on the river,
or on their way to these
places. When a boy,
after foot-ball or cricket,
is late or lazy, he slips
on an overcoat which
comes down to his heels.
Occasionally it flaps open
and shows his knee-
breeches and long stock-
ings. But the collar is
'carefully pulled up, so
that you can not tell
whether or not it hides
a white tie. You often meet boys in this costume
on the High street late on half-holiday afternoons.
The castle is at one end of the High street of
Windsor, and the college at the other. After you

cross the bridge over Barnes's Pool, you come to the
houses where the masters live and the boys board,
and to the college buildings. If you pass through
the low doorway in the latter, you find yourself in
a large quadrangle or square, on one side of which
is the chapel, and on the three others, school-
rooms. In the center is the statue of Henry VI.,
who was the founder of the college. Beyond this
square is another smaller one with cloisters
around it, and a green grass plot lined with low
bushes covering the open space, and here the fel-


lows" live. If you linger in the large quadrangle
when the boys are going or coming from their
classes, you will notice that some wear black gowns
like those of the masters. I think these gowns



I- ,, ,,
"d ,,

1887.] A VISIT TO ETON. 201

must all be made of the same length, no m
whom they are to be given. For I have se(
almost trail on the ground when on shot
while often they only reach the knees c
Those who wear gowns
are "collegers," for whom
the college was really found-
ed. Until about the middle
of this century, the colleg-
ers had a rough time. They
slept in one large and three
small dormitories in the
building opposite the chap-
el and looking out on the
large quadrangle. With (7E
the exception of a few old-
er boys who were allowed
chairs or tables, their only / "
furniture was their beds. As
they were without wash- ..
stands or basins, they had,
like Mr. Squeers' pupils, to 5
wash at the pump. This,
you must agree with me,
was- not pleasant, and so you will not
that once, as late as the year 1838, they w
begged the authorities to have water bro
some way into their dormitories. But th(
tion was refused, and they were told they w
wanting gas and Turkey carpets next! Th
was not much better. The only meal prov
them was dinner, which always consisted
ton and potatoes and beer, which was rat
notonous. On one day in the year, Foundet
they had a feast of turkey. Henry VI. mea
dining-hall to be a very handsome building
before it was finished there was so little
left that the workmen had to build the up]
of the walls with bricks instead of the store
which they had begun, so that on the out.
hall looks like a piece of patchwork. Perk
'same thing happened with the money for
legers' expenses, for after their dinners were
there seemed to be none for their other
Certain it is that they had to get their br
and teas as best they could. It was said
with truth, that they were not as well fed and
as convicts or paupers in an almshouse wc
And so it came to pass that even poor peo
itated before sending their sons to put up wi
hardships, and the boys who were not c
looked down upon them and would have"
to do with them.
But it is very different now. Their bh
have been improved and enlarged. Fort
of the oldest boys have rooms to themselves

younger ones still sleep in the old hall, or Long
Chamber as it is called. But wooden partitions
reaching half-way to the high ceiling have been
set up and they divide the hall into little alcoves


, "

hi. At


wonder or stalls, so that every boy has a place to himself.
ent and In it he has a bed, a chair, a chest of drawers and
ught in his washing-stand, and he can be comfortable
eir peti- enough. At the end of the chamber is a large open
wouldd be space, used for "kickabout," or foot-ball practice,
eir food which is always going on during the winter term
ided for when the boys are not in school. When I went into
of mut- Long Chamber, this space was full of paper coats
her mo- and cocked hats of all.sizes, such as small children
r's-Day, delight in making. -A master who was with me
.nt their asked a bright young college what these were
g. But for. "I don'tknow, sir," he said. "It'sthe sixth-
money form's work. They 've been at it for the last
per part hour. I think it 's very babyish of the sixth form,
ies with sir, don't you? But for all that, his respect for his
side the elders was great enough to keep him from touching
laps the one of the coats.
the col- Life in Chamber.is very sociable. During the
bought day the boys are out almost all the time, either in
meals. their classes or on the playgrounds. But in the
eakfasts evening after '"lock-up," all the young collegers
)f them gather around the large fire at the end of the hall;
Lodged for though there are fireplaces in the elder colleg-
ould be. ers' rooms, there are none in the stalls in Cham-
ple hes- ber. To this fire theybringtheirbooks, orlines, or
ith such verses, or whatever they may have to do; .but when
ollegers as many as twenty boys sit together ovei a cheer-
nothing ful fire, I wonder how much solid work is done !
At a quarter to ten the captain, or head boy of
buildings Chamber, sends them all off to their stalls, and at
y-seven ten, the sixth-form prmepostor, or monitor, comes
-s. The in to see that they are in bed. Of course they

r887.] '




have to fag for the older collegers. Sometimes
when the fun by the fire is at its height, there is
heard, from one of the rooms beyond, a cry of
"'Come here!" and then all have, to run at full
speed,,for the last to arrive is chosen to do the
work of faggingg, whatever it may be. The young
tyrants :whose right it is to be. waited on like
to be as near Chamber as possible, that when
they call they may be answered promptly. There
are times when the fag is glad that he has a fag-
master, despite all his hard duties, for it is his
privilege to sit in the latter's room, and if he really
wishes to study in the evening, he can thus escape
to a quiet, warm place.
The collegers still use the old dining-hall, but
the meals served there are not only better than in
earlier days, but good and plentiful. A master
lives in the house with them, and they are in every
way treated like the other boys. Moreover, they
must pass a.very severe examination before they
are admitted to college; so that it is thought
a great honor and mark of distinction to belong
to the colleges. A little of the old prejudice con-
tinues among smaller boys and new-comers, but
it wears away as, they grow older, and the collegers
are to-day looked up to and respected.
The number of b':.) who pa\ for their education
at Eton i, greater than that of the free scholars.
There were so few good schools in Ehglapd in the
old days, that boys were sent to Eton from all,
parts of the kingdom. They boarded in the little
town, and only went to the school buildings for
their lessons. For this reason they were called
oppidans, which means town-boys. They boarded
wherever they could -be taken in, and the women
who kept boarding-houses for them were called
"dames." Finally, when they came in greater
numbers, the masters thought it best to have the
town-boys under their roofs for the sake of order.
During the day, and when not in school, the
boys are very much their own masters. They can
go and come as they please. But they must be in
their houses, and then in their rooms by certain
hours. Every evening the master calls over the
names of his boys, at five o'clock in winter and at a
quarter to nine in summer. He occasionally visits
their rooms. And sometimes, if they are too
noisy at kickabout, which in the houses goes on
in the passages, he puts a stop to it. It is no
wonder his patience is tried at times. Indeed, the
boys themselves think there can be too much of
this good thing. Bother it! one gets tired of
kickabout when it goes on without intermission
after eight, after ten, and after four, against one's
door I said one.
But the master is not often obliged to come up-
stairs and'call for order. The captain, who is the

boy highest up in the school of all those who
board in the same house, is its real ruler. He is
held in awe by the younger boys, and his word is
law. The mere report that the captain is-coming.
will quiet the most unruly. In the eyes of his
juniors he is a much greater person than the mas-
ter. Nothing usually pleases a smallboy so much
as to be. spoken to on the street by his captain,
while his schoolmates look on. He may be so
embarrassed as not to be able to answer. But his
pride lasts for many days. Indeed, he never for-
gets it. I know an Etonian, now a master, who
can point out the very spot where he was so hon-
ored for the first time.
The captain and the older boys have fags whom
they select from members of the Lower School.
Fagging is not easy work at Eton. Fags not only
have to wait on their fag-masters at almost all
hours, to bring them water and to look out for
their rooms, but they even have to cook for them.
All the boys of a house take their dinner together,
but excepting in two or three houses where a new
rule has been made, every one has his breakfast
and tea in his own room. And for these meals the
poor fags are cooks and waiters. There is even a
kitchen provided for their special use where they
boil water, brew tea, and toast bread. Many heart-
aches have there been in those little kitchens!
Fancy a youngster just out of the home nursery,
you might say, being set to making toast, when
he, knows as littlee about ii as he does about Latin
verses! And yet, ifit is not. all right, his fastidious
master will take him to task with all the infdigna-
tion of disappuointit d hunger and then send him off
to do his work over again. But he grrou,, hard rcd
by degreesto this-1 ork, just as he does to. verse-
making, and in. time can joke and laugh as he
cooks. And if while he talks he forge.cr his c.Las
and lets it burn, what matter? 'Witir a lile iexperi-
ence he learns to scrape off the black with a knife.
Every oppidan has his own room, which he deco-
rates to please' himself Whatever these decora-
tions may be, he is certain to have in the most
conspicuous place his foot-ball, cricket or boating
cap, his house colors, a photograph of his boat
crew, or cricket team, or- foot-ball eleven, and
always one, also, of all the boys in his house with
the cups they have won at foot-ball, during the
term, set out before them.
The classes at Eton are much the same as at
other English schools. The sixth is the highest
form, and then follow the other forms and divisions.
So long as they are in the Lower School the boys
do almost all their work in the pupil-room. At
stated hours they study with their tutors, who then
help them to prepare their verses, so that when
they go to their masters their work is really done.




The day begins with "morning school" at seven
in the summer and half-past seven in winter, and
this hour is the most miserable of the twenty-four.
Then comes breakfast, plenty of time being allowed
for.the fags, after theyhave waitedl on their masters
and perhaps run for them to the tuck" shops for
extra delicacies, to wait on themselves. While
they set the kettle on to boil the second time, the
older boys stroll leisurely into the library, for there
is one in every house, and read the papers, orelse do
one of the many nothings which -young gentlemen
in their superior position so easily find to do. Is
it any wonder that the fags, who, unless they would
starve, must go on cutting bread and butter, envy
them? Next comes a twenty minutes' service in
the chapel, to which all Etonians must go. At the
end, they march out in regular order, first the
collegers in white surplices, then the oppidan
sixth form, and finally the oppidans of the lower
After this, work begins in earnest with ten o'clock
school, which lasts from a quarter of to half-past
ten, and is quickly followed by eleven o'clock
school. For two hours there is great quiet in Eton.
When they are over, comes the "after, twelve."
Until two o'clock the older boys do whatever they
like, but the unfortunate little fellows in the Lower
School must go on construing and grinding out
Latin verses inpupil-room. At two, however, when
the dinner-bell rings, they also are at rest. They
can at least eat their midday meal in peace, for
they know that if the mutton is underdone they
will not have to roast it the second time, that if a
glass of water is called for they will not have to
fetch .it.
The after two is very short, afternoon school
beginning again at three. The "after four," from
a quarter to four to a quarter-past during the win-
ter term, is quite a favorite time for a walk on the
High street. If you happen to be out just then,
you will see boys in every shop in deep consulta-
tion with tailors and bootmakers, making appoint-
ments with photographers, looking over books, or
more often in the confectioners', eating pies and
sweets. The fags, too, are on duty again and are
marketing for their fag-masters. As "lock-up"
in winter is at five o'clock, the boys have a long
evening in the house. This they spend sometimes
in studying, but, as a rule, in doing whatever best
suits them. But you must' not think, on this
account, these are always idle hours. There are
many prizes outside of the regular course for which
the boys compete, and then-another great reason
for study- all those who distinguish themselves in
their school work are, like the great cricketers and
oarsmen, looked up to as the "swells" of the col-
lege. There are, besides, the house debating socie-

ties and the great school debating society called
"Pop,"-to which so many famous Englishmen
belonged in their Eton days,- and literary socie-
ties and magazines; and altogether any Eton boy,
who chooses, will find more to do than he has
time for.
Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday are half holi-
days, and then there are no studies in the afternoon.
After twelve the boys have nothing to think of but
amusement. And this, if you could see Eton with
its beautiful shady playgrounds and the river
winding through them, would seem to you not
difficult to find. The only interruption to their
long afternoon is "absence,". or the calling over
of names in the great quadrangle. No one has
ever been able to explain why a ceremony at which
all must be present is called "absence." But
stranger still, now and then when the boys assem-
ble at the appointed hour they are told there is to
be no "absence," and they say there has been a
"call"! Of course the boys never know before-
hand whether it is to be "absence" or a "call."
The first "absence" is at three o'clock, and the
boys must come in their uniform, so that after-
dinner games can not very well begin until it is
over. If you want to know what "absence" is
like, imagine a square, open place with old build-
ings all around it, four masters in gown and cap
standing by the wall in four different places, while
one thousand boys all in tall hats and some in
gowns rush in and out, and laugh and talk.
Every one as his name is called takes off his hat,
many waving them well in the air, so that the
master may be sure to see them, if, because of
the noise and confusion, he should not hear their
During "absence," a prepostor stands by the
master. A praepostor is a monitor, and there is
one for every form. Every boy in turn holds this
office for three or four days at a time. It is his
duty to take the names of all who do not answer
at "absence," and find out afterward why they
were not present. There are also two sixth-form
prepostors, one for the collegers and one for the
oppidans, who are appointed every week. If the
head-master wants to speak to or reprove a boy,
he sends for him by the sixth-form praepostor. In
Dr. Keate's time these sixth-form praepostors
were the busiest people in Eton, for Dr. Keate
thought a course of flogging the best education
the boys could have, and so was always sending
for them.
After three o'clock "absence," there is a rush
for the playgrounds. Tall hats and black coats
and trousers are exchanged for caps and flannels.
The sheep which have been grazing peacefully all.
the morning in the sunny green fields beat a hasty




retreat to the shade of the Poet's Walk, and the
place is alive with boys. In the Christmas half
they come for foot-ball. Their field game is much
the same as that played by all boys in other
schools, and out of them too. But they have
besides what they call the "wall game." This
is peculiar to Eton, and is so old that no one
knows when it was first played, and so difficult
that it is almost impossible for those who have not
had some practice to understand it. The collegers
are usually the best players, the older among their
number teaching the younger boys as soon as they
come to college, while oppidans rarely learn until
their last years at .school. The playing fields
are separated from the road by a high brick wall,

for one party to crush the other against it. After
perhaps five minutes of this struggle, the ball
came out from under the feet of the players,
and then one boy seized it and threw it toward
a large elm-tree at a little distance from the wall,
and upon which was a chalk mark. This was one
of the goals, the other being the door in a garden
wall opposite. The next minute the ball was.
brought back again, and the pushing recom-
menced. Sometimes the players fell on top of
one another, and those nearest the wall were
knocked so close to it that they would have been
seriously hurt had they not been prepared for this
rough treatment. Three men on each side, who
were always stationed close by the bricks, wore


against which this game is always played, the cap-
tains of the teams being called keepers of the wall.
I saw a very exciting match between the collegers
and a foreign team one October morning during the
"after twelve." When I first looked at the wall,
all I saw was a mass of figures pushing and strug-
gling together, as if the object of the game was

padded jackets and leggings, and close hoods
which covered their heads, and even their eirs,
and were tied under their chins. Two masters
were umpires. The first put the ball into the bully,
and so great was his interest that he forgot all
about his fresh, yellow kid gloves, and in they went
among the muddy boots. The second was a quite





elderly man with gray hair, but he was equally
interested, and crouched close to the ground near
the players, to see that the ball was not kicked
from'under the feet of the man who held it down.
The great wall match of the year comes off on St.
Andrew's Day. Then the
field is crowded not only
with boys and masters, but
with people from the town,
and even from London;
;and there is sure to be a
row of excited Etonians
perched up on the high -'
wall, from which they have
a capital view. This : '
match is between the col-
-legers and the oppidans, I j
i the latter looking very gay
in their orange and pur-
ple, and the former less
Bright in their Quaker-
like mauve and white.
But quiet as they. look,
you may depend on it :l
they will attract the more
attention before the game .,' .
is over, for they are al-
most always sure to win.
The different houses' -
play the field game against
one another for cups, and ___*: Y-
against the masters; while -
a picked'eleven of colleg- : THE ORIGINAL ETON FI
ersand oppidans meet out-
side teams. Every house has its own colors, while
those of the. great field eleven are red and blue.
One part of the Etonian uniform, which you are
stre to notice, -is the long scarf which every boy
wears around his neck and underneath his outer
jacket, the ends dangling between his legs.- But
this he takes off when he begins to play.
Fives, though played- all' the year around,
Smay be called' the game of the Easter half, for it
is the principal amusement of this: season, when,
-consequently, it is not easy to get a court unless
one engages it some hours beforehand. Though
now common enough in other- schools, fives is
as peculiar to Eton as -the wall game of foot-hall.
It was really invented by Etonians. They used to
play it between the chapel buttresses. Afterward,
when they put up regular courts, these were built
as like the old playing places as possible, and even
a projection in the buttress, which made the game
doubly difficult, was copied. This projection is
known to all fives players as the pepper-box.
But the two greatest amusements of all are those
of the summer half--boating and cricket. Indeed,

the summer half is one long season of delight.
Studies go on, of course, but they become of second-
ary account, and the great object of school life
seems to be to excel in the cricket-field or on the
river, Every boy has to choose between the two

r T-.. = ,


sports. English boys are as serious at play as 'at
study, and' they will not spoil their chances -of
becoming either a really good cricket: or:-gbod
oarsman by trying'to' be both -:I is- considered
an important moment when ani Etonian :decides
whether -he will be.a: "dry bob:"' dr a -'wet bob."
If he decides for cricket, he is made at bfice a
member of one of the cricket clubs,: of hiichilthere
are several, every one having its b~owlfield-called by
its name. These cldbs are the"' Lower-Sixpeieniy,"
for boys in the 'lowest forms; the "Upper-' Six-
penny," for those in the- lower 'fifth form the
"Lower Club'," towhich any boy whio has reached
the middle division: of: the fifth form can be-
long; the '' Middle Club," composed of "older
boys who are not very good cricketers;: and the
great "Upper Club," to which hone are-admitted
but- the champions of the school, -which is so
respected. by the masters that its members are
excused from six o'clock "absence," and, in order
to save more time, is allowed to have tea in the
Poet's Walk. It is given all these privileges
because it is its duty to keep'up the reputation





of Eton for cricket. Every year there are matches
between Eton and Harrow, and Eton and Win-
chester. Etonians and Harrovians meet at Lord's
Cricket Ground in London, a beautiful large field
which, when it was first used for cricket, was really
in the country. But since then houses have been
built up around it, and it is now in that part of
London called St. John's Wood. The match
comes off in the early part of July, when the gay
season is at its height. Everybody goes to it.
The head-masters and masters of both schools and
old Harrovians and Etonians with their families,
from gray-haired grandfathers to little fellows just
out of skirts, who already look forward to the days
when they too will be great cricketers. And
you see officers and grave members of parliament,
and old ladies and pretty young girls sitting in
drags and carriages, all as excited and eager as
the players themselves. There is a grand stand
for Harrow and another for Eton, and almost all
the lookers-on wear the light blue or the dark blue
ribbons. Every one stays all day, and the lunch-
eons they have brought with them are unpacked
and eaten on the grounds. And greater enthu-
siasm you have never seen! Whenever a boy
makes a big hit or a fine catch, there are great

shouts of applause from his party and hisses from
the other. And when the match is over, the
winning side seize the boy who has made the most
runs and lift him on their shoulders and carry him
around the field in triumph, just as the Rugby
boys carried Tom Brown. Harrow and Eton have
had fifty-nine matches since they first* began to
play together. Of these Harrow has won twenty-
four and Eton twenty-five, the others having been
drawn games; so you see they are close rivals.
The match with Winchester boys comes off one
year at Winchester and the next at Eton. It
always takes place late in the spring, when the
trees and grass at Eton are at their greenest,
and the sun shines softly on the old time-stained
buildings. The flannels of the players and the
gay dresses of the ladies who come to look on fill
the field with bright color. The river runs close
by, and the towers and battlements of Windsor
Castle rise far above it in the distance. If you
were to see Eton then, you would say there .could
be no lovelier place the world over. What need
of "absence on these.days ? For what boy would
stir from the grounds until he knew whether or no
the light blue of Eton was victorious ? Indeed, the
masters seldom break up a match by forcing the




boys to leave their game to be present in the quad-
rangle at three and at six. Even Dr. Keate, the
great boy-flogger, whenever there was a cricket-
match, called their names in the cricket-field.
-The "wet bobs" have their boats down by the
bridge,.over the river, where it crosses the High
street. All of the "wet bobs" have to know how
to swim, and many, before they are allowed to get
in a boat, go through a thorough training under
the direction of a regular teacher. There are, of
course, many boating crews, just as there are
cricket clubs, and only the best oarsmen row in
the races with the other schools. On half-holidays
the boys can go out after three. But the hour
they love even better is the after six," when they
start with the sun low in the west and come home
in the cool of the soft English twilight. But per-
haps best of all is when on half-holidays they are
excused from six o'clock "absence" if they will
promise to row as far as Maidenhead. I do not
think they find it a very hard condition. It is lit-
tle enough to pay for six long hours on the river,
winding with it between meadows and pleasant
woody places, and meeting the many shells and
punts, and row-boats, and steam yachts with
which in spring and summer evenings it is sure to
be crowded.
The most exciting race of the year is at Henley,
when they row against other schools, meeting
among them their rivals at cricket, the Westmin-
ster boys.
But the day of days is the Fourth of June. Then
the wet bobs" all turn out in full force, and have
a gay procession of boats on the Thames. This

is an old, old custom. At first the boys. wore the
most extravagant dresses, so that it looked as if
they were having a fancy party on the water.
Every year they changed their costumes, each new
set trying to outdo the last. But in 1814 a regular
uniform, much the same as that now worn, was
adopted. This was, for the boys in the upper
boats, blue cloth jackets and trousers, striped
shirts, and straw hats decorated with artificial flow-
ers and the name of the boat. The only differ-
ence for the boys of the lower .boats was that
white jean trousers were worn instead of blue
cloth. The coxswains of the boats went on wear-
ing fancy dresses for some years longer, but at last
they also gave them up for the cocked hat and
uniform of naval officers. Dr. Keate, though he
pretended to know nothing of these processions,
always had "lock-up" a half an hour later on the
Fourth of June; and Dr. Goodall, who was provost
for many years, used to say he wondered why
his wife invariably dined early on that day, and
ordered her carriage for six. But now the head-
masters and the other masters go to see the river
parade, and more people come from London than
for the cricket match, and the banks of the Thames
about Windsor are lined with spectators. The
boys are reviewed, and then they toss oars, and
away they go amidst great applause, and up the
river as far as Henley, where they have a supper
of duck and green peas, to which they have been
looking forward for months as the best part of the
fun. And then there are fireworks arid a brilliant
illumination, and for the time being, everything at
Eton but play and pleasure is forgotten.




rc' -!

*'-^ / /'
"7 7/


OLD Bob, the sea-cook, late at night,
Sat by the galley-fire's warm light,
And talked to the little midshipmite
Of this and that.
There was nobody there to set him right
But the galley cat.

He loved her much, for all she could do
In the way of speech was a well-meant Mew";
And old Bob said that he always knew
What she meant by that.
"She never says what I say aint true,
Don't the galley cat "

" Well, neither do I," said the midshipmite;
" Come, Bob, we are all by ourselves to-night;
Now, spin me a yarn, and, honor bright,
And certain, and flat,
I '11 be just-as quiet and just as polite
As the galley cat."

" You '11 not say, 'You've give us that before,'
And you'llnot say, doleful, 'Is there much more?'
And you '11 not break out, and laugh, and roar,
For I can't stand that !
She never calls me an old'smooth-bore,
Don't the galley cat.

" So, if you '11 be just as civil as her,
Or as.near as you can, without the purr,
And not rub me the wrong way of the fur,-
There 's a deal in that,-
I '11 spin you a first-class yarn, yes, sir,
Of that self-same cat.

" 'T was a pitch-dark night, in the Indian seas;
The wind was blowing a stiffish breeze,
And we were n't exactly taking our ease,
You may bet your hat;
We were rolling about the deck like peas,
All but the cat.



MA -12

1887.] THE GALLEY CAT. 209

" But you need n't think she had gone below
Because of the racket above; oh, no !
She did n't mind a bit of a blow,-
She was used to that.
She 'd a corner on deck where she'd always go,
Had the galley cat.

" A body with half an eye can see
That she 's most especially.fond of me;
She follows 'round wherever I be.
So there she sat,
With one eye on the men and one on the sea,
Did the galley cat.
VOL. XIV.-14.

" Now, I '11 not go wasting the time to tell
How it came about that I slipped, and fell
From the mast to the raging sea, but--well,
I'd have drowned like a rat
Before they 'd so much as rung the bell,
But for that there cat!

" What did she do ? She flung me a line !
I could see her yellow eyeballs shine,
As she sat in the stern-sheets, wet with brine,
And I steered by that;
She carried the end to a friend of mine,
Did the galley cat;





And he hauled me up-but I make no doubt, She-flungyouarope ? "gasped the midshipmite,
If he had n't, she would 'a' pulled me out. As if he could n't have heard aright,
For she knew right well what she was about; I 'II not say anything impolite--
,r..i ..-

She wasn't no flat. You stick to that,"
But you ought to have heard the sailors shout Said Bob; Can't you even trust your sight?
For the galley cat! Why, there 's the cat! "

... -..'-,
_k j q: 'Ji". Il" .-. '' i, "
-$ '_"' *.-" -. '- __-, _.- .' .,_ ,,_ ,
.:- .
(,. --- . =. .. .. _. .. . .
~ ~ ~ r~~: .-.,.', .,. ....... .




THE girls were on hand again in the afternoon,
but this time the air was as sweet as it had been
disagreeable the day before.
"It seems silly to put so pretty a thing in a
drawer out of sight, does n't it ?" asked Madge,
sneezing, as she sifted the heliotrope powder into
a dainty bag.
No," Nellie said; I think it is lovely not to
have everything for show. Sachet bags are like
secret virtues, I suppose; -not that I have any of
the latter myself," she added with a laugh.
"Oh, by the way, how is your secret charity
coming on?." asked Floy. indifferently, her whole
soul absorbed in tying a small bow of blue and
pink ribbon.
'' Finely, I thank you; but it is so secret that
even, yoii shall not know it, my dear," replied Nell.
"Have you really unearthed some thankless
recipient of your wealth ?" questioned Madge in-
You don't have to dig so deep as you think
before finding all that could be desired in the
way of poverty," Nell said evasively. "But,
girls, you need n't try to find out my plan, which
is a very small one indeed, for I sha'n't tell you
anything about it; at least, not until I find out
whether I think the experiment pays. So far, I like
it." And Nell stitched away defiantly, as though
Sshe momentarily expected the girls to laugh at her.
But they did n't, and instead of deriding, Floy
said kindly, I believe I envy you, for I am almost
cross over these everlasting presents;. and the ne-
cessity of getting something for Belle Nash is the
last straw."
Well, I've broken that straw," Nell remarked,
snipping off some silk as though the action illus-
trated the summary way in which she had disposed
ofthe question.
"Why, have you finished your present for her
already?" exclaimed Floy.
"Not at all. I mean that I am not going to
give her a present." And Nell's scissors snapped
quite savagely.
".But she has something for you, and probably
surmises that this little bird has told you so," ob-
jected Madge.
Very well; if she is disappointed, it is her own
fault, not mine," declared Nell.
But it will be so awkward," Floy suggested.
It will be more awkward to keep up the ex-

change, year after year. Somebody will have to
stop some time, and I 'm going to stop now before
I begin: is n't that bright of me ?"
"Yes, Nellie, it is a brilliant thought," said
Floy; "and I believe I '11 follow your shining
So, with a great deal of laughter over their talk,
and a great deal of sneezing over their work, the
afternoon faded into the cold gray of early twilight,
and once more Nell stood alone at the window-
this time not idly, but eagerly watching the little
It was as she thought-bare hands, no over-
coat, no scarf. Nell peered at him as he came
running toward the house, and then she called
her mother to the window.
"Here comes, the boy I was telling.you about,
Mamma. Look at his clothes. Would n't it be
dreadful to have Alf dressed that way in this
Mrs. Hildreth looked, and said with a mother's
pity: "Yes, that is too bad, Nellie dear, and we
must do something for the boy. To-morrow we
will see what we can find among Alf's things;
clothes that Alf has out-grown will probably fit the
lad. I 'm glad you discovered this chance of do-
ing something for somebody else."
."Discovered?" Nell repeated gravely. "The
chance has been here under our eyes twice a day.
I 'm only learning to see a little. But, Mother, I
wish to give something. I have a grudge against
myself and I wish to do a little by way of atone-
Mrs. Hildreth patted her daughter lovingly, and
suggested that after they had made up a package
of what they had in the house, Nell could add
whatever was lacking.
When Alf appeared, puffing and blowing and
as hungry as a bear, Nell waylaid him on. his way
to beg the cook to have cakes for supper.
"Did you find out anything?" she asked
"Find out anything? Rather! I found out
how to make a full-fledged American eagle on the
ice," he answered wickedly, trying to escape from
her firm grasp.
"No, no, bad boy! you know perfectly well
what I mean-anything about the little lamp-
"Oh, fudge What made me forget that? But

* x887.]




see here, Nell, you must give a fellow time. I 'm
a hard-worked man, I am," he pleaded, with a
droll whine in his voice.
Nell knew his tricks too well to be deceived by
this fraud of his; so she only retorted, laughing,
"Poor fellow, earning your daily cakes-but
could n't you let out part of the job of skating all
the morning and coasting all the afternoon? It
does seem too much for a frail reed like you "
Alf laughed, and darting into the kitchen to tell
Maggie to "make a lot of 'em," he re-appeared,
remarking, Well, now, what is it you want to
know?-Oh, yes, I remember! You wanted me
to find out how much toboggans cost. Well, I did.
I love to accommodate you. Real whoppers, big
enough to hold you and me and another fellow,
cost -what is n't that it ? "
Nell walked serenely toward the door, wise
enough to know that she would gain nothing, and
only gratify Alf's inveterate mood for teasing, by
showing any annoyance.
"Oh, come back!" he said, relenting. "Let
me see-oh, the gentleman who illuminates the
highway Yes, now that I think of it; I called
around at his apartments to-day, and presented
my lady's compliments."
What aboit him ? Do be quick, Alf! "
Well, milord lives, so to speak, away down on
Hickory street, and he is the son of poor but dis-
honest parents."
"Really? "
"Well, his father is a shady old party; but his
mother moves in the society of a broom and scrub-
bing-brush in down-town offices."
"Alf, you 're a darling!" exclaimed Nell.
Tell me something I don't know already," he
responded saucily. "I was about to say," he
added, that I inquired at the banks, and at the
best tailor shops, but failed to find his name at
either, so I suspect he 's worse off than the Man
without a Country." Then, seeing Nell's dis-
tressed look, he continued in a different tone:
"Yes, Nell, honor bright, I should freeze dressed
in his clothes; and his father is a good-for-nothing,
who mends umbrellas when he 's sober; but his
mother is good for as much as she can possibly
"How did you find out all that?" Nell de-
manded admiringly.
I asked him."
S" The boy himself."
You did n't "
"I did."
"Why, what did you say?"
"I said, 'Hullo!'"
"What did he say?"

"He said, 'Hullo, yourself!'"
"How did you manage to find him at all? "
"I just waited on the sidewalk until he came
But, Alf," said Nellie, still a little worried for
fear her impetuous and not always discreet brother
either had been rude or had raised the suspicion of
the boy, "what excuse had you for speaking to
him at all ?"
"Well, you see, I was just skating along the
sidewalk, not noticing him, you know, when, all
of a sudden, I came within an inch of tripping
him up, as I accidentally on purpose lost my bal-
ance. Was n't that rather neat ? "
Beautiful! Go on cried Nell delightedly.
"Well, the next thing for any fellow to do
would be to say 'Hullo! so I said it. And the
proper thing for the other fellow to say then is
'Hullo, yourself!' and he said that, as I told you."
"Oh, do be quick What next? asked Nell.
"Why," said Alf, I told him that the ice was
so rough that I guessed I 'd have to give up skat-
ing; and he said the ice on the canal was 'prime.'
And then I asked him to let me see if'I could
light the next lamp as quickly as he did. So he
gave me some matches, and I kicked off my skates
and trotted along with him. Of course when he saw
I was a jolly one, he thawed; and when a fellow
thaws, you can get almost anything out of him."
Alf chuckled, while Nellie said, enthusiastically,
I declare, you did it very cleverly Well? "
"Well, in the course of our remarks," said Alf,
"I found out that he had no skates, and had n't
time to use them if he had, excepting on moon-
light nights. For he works all day at opening the
big door down at McAlpine & Hoyt's; only, on'
short winter days, his little brother takes his place
when it comes time for him to light the lamps."
"Down at McAlpine & Hoyt's," mused Nell.
"Why, I never thought about all those boys, cash-
boys and door-boys; they 've always seemed almost
like.wax figures. Then I can see him myself, when'
I go to get something for him at that very same
"Get something for him!" repeated Alf, open-
ing his eyes wide.
Yes, that's my secret," said Nell; "and you
are uncommonly good to do all this for me with-
out knowing why I wanted to find out about him."
"It was a strain," he sighed; "but what are
you up to, Nell?"
Why, Alf Hildreth," said Nell; earnestly, -"do
you know that that boy has to turn out the gas on
these pitch-dark, freezing-cold mornings, when you
are fast asleep, as snug as a bug in a rug? "
"Perhaps it 's somebody else," Alf suggested.
But it is n't!" answered Nell. "I woke up





This morning at half-past five and saw him with
my own eyes." And she looked triumphant.
S"Jingo! exclaimed Alf. "That's rather rough,
I must say. We '11 find him stuck like an icicle in
a snow-drift one of these days And Alf now
seemed sufficiently impressed to satisfy Nellie's
sympathetic heart.
"No, we '11 not-for you and I, Alf, are going
to fix him up as warm as you are; that is, Mother
is going to give him some of your old clothes, and
I am going to add whatever else is necessary."
"But if he is a proud chap, it will make him
angry to have a lot of my old things," Alf objected,
yet all interest.
"But he is n't to know who gives them-that's
the secret! said Nell. On Christmas Eve, you
and I are going to tie the things upon the lamp-
post, where he will find them. Wont that be fun?"
Alf expressed only partial satisfaction with the
plan, again objecting that some other early bird
would get the worm.
"I did n't think of that," and Nell drew her
brows together. -" Then we must get up very, very
early. .Would n't that do ?"
"Perhaps. But then if you tie 'em to the post
in front of our house he '11 suspect who put 'em
there," said Alf.
"That's so I" said Nell. "Oh, Alf, how clever
you are when once you stop teasing and give your
mind to anything! Now think out how to meet
this new difficulty."
Alf stuffed his hands into his crumby pockets,
walked to the window and whistled "Over the
Garden Wall."
"I have it!" he presently said, slapping his
knee as though enjoying a joke. "We '11 tie the
duds to the next lamp-post,- the one in front of
skinflint Salmon's house. Nobody would ever sus-
pect him of giving away a cent, and Jimmy will be
all at sea! "
Who is Jimmy ?"
"Jimmy? Why, he's your boy," said Alf;
adding, Oh, did n't I tell you? You see, on my
trip down the street, in my new office of lighting
lamps, another boy called out to your boy, 'Hi,
Jim how you vas ?' So, on my way back, I inter-
viewed that boy, and found out that your boy's name
is Jim Walden, and all about his father and mother.
I tell you, I feel like a successful private detective."
Nell patted him on the back, assured him she
should require his services again, and hurried into
the dining-room with him.
These plans had matured so rapidly, that as yet
Nell had had little time to think how she felt in
her new guise of good girl"; but she was con-
scious, as she started on positively her last shop-
ping expedition, that there was an added.interest

to this very interesting world, and, as she neared
the great swinging door of McAlpine & Hoyt's,
that it really was a very interesting world indeed.
Ah, there he was, pulling the door open in a
wooden sort of way! She supposed he had
always been there; she had never noticed; some-
how the door always swung away for her; she had
never thought how it happened. On that particular
morning, it was snowing hard, and she had carried
her umbrella; and as Jimmy was putting it in the
rack, and selecting a check to give her in return,
she had an unusually good chance of getting a look
at him. Yes, it was as she thought; he was thin
and under-fed, his clothes were too small for him,
and poor in quality at best, 'his trousers so worn
that the original material was scarcely visible for
the patches; his shoes were old.
"Why," Nell thought, "Alf got out his rubber
boots this morning. Jim shall have rubber boots!"
She was gazing at him with pity and determina-
tion in her eyes, when she became conscious that
he was holding out toward her the little brass check
for her umbrella.
Oh, thank you! she said, recovering herself,
and stepping on into the store.
Jim looked wanly surprised at this civility, while
Nell sped down the aisle to the shoe department,
where she felt rather queer as she gave the order:
Boots for a boy of about thirteen, I think."
Next, at the gentlemen's counter, she picked
out a pair of wristlets and mittens, glancing un-
easily about her, for she had agreed to meet
Madge at ten o'clock at the ribbon-counter, and
she did n't wish to be discovered making these
surreptitious purchases. When she had added
three pairs of warm stockings, she gave her
address, to which the goods were to be sent, and
hurried away with a sense of relief that now, as her
purse was absolutely empty (the boots not having
entered into her previous calculations), the per-
plexing question of whether to get this or that, or
blue, or olive, or pink, was over for a whole year.
And thus it happened that when Madge arrived,
she found a very impecunious and yet very con-
tented girl awaiting her.
When Mrs. Hildreth added her collection, Nell
was astonished at the size of the pile. There was
a complete suit that Alf had outgrown; a warm
overcoat, cast aside for the same reason; a tele-
scope cap, that could be pulled down over the ears;
a pair of shoes, and some underwear.
Whew 1" commented Alfred. "Why, you '11
have to tie the lamp-post to the bundle! Let's
see if you have n't left some of my things in the
pockets!" And he proceeded to rummage, but in
so awkward and embarrassed a manner, that Nell
kept a suspecting eye upon him, and so plainly




saw him slip something into a pocket; but she
discreetly looked away again, just in time.
Alfred evidently had made some donation on his
own account, and was so ashamed of having done
anything in the least like the sweet little boy he
had so often read about, that it made him actually
cross to think of a possible resemblance; so that
he evened up by scolding about having to get
up so early.
Dear me thought Nellie; "he really must
have made quite a sacrifice to feel at liberty to be
so cross about it afterward."
But when Alf had marched off, with a great show
of cold indifference to the whole performance, Nell
just peeped into the pocket of the vest, where she
found a little, heavy, hard, round package marked
"for skates," which, she concluded, contained
dollar coins.
Dear old boy she said to herself, her eyes
shining, he shall be as cross as two bears, if he
likes! When he is trying so hard to save for a
toboggan, too! And then she wrapped the whole
collection in a stout paper, and tied upon the out-
side a big card on which Merry Christmas, Jim
Walden," was written plainly.
Alf went to bed early, but Nellie was kept awake
until quite late, doing up and labeling her other
gifts. Still she heroically set her alarm clock for
half-past four, and promised to arouse her brother
in time to have him put the bundle in its place
before Jim came around.

Nell awoke with a start and looked at her clock.
Horrors--it was two minutes after five What
could be the matter with the alarm? With a
sickening feeling of disappointment she rushed to
the window and looked out. Yes, it was too late-
the lights were going out down the street. She
looked regretfully toward the lamp-post, where
the bundle should appear and could she believe
her eyes ? A great bundle was hanging from one
of the outstretched arms In tingling perplexity
she rushed to Alf's room. There he was, snugly
tucked in bed, and apparently fast asleep; but
she gave a little shiver of mingled cold and joy as
her bare foot brushed against a suspiciously damp
rubber boot.
Alf, Alf! do wake up! Merry Christmas, Alf !"
Nell exclaimed, giving her brother a vigorous
shake; but he only turned over, muttering sleep-
ily, Let me alone it's the middle of the night!
What are you talking about?"
Oh, Alf, do get up! I saw the bundle there
all right, and Jim is coming "
But Alfred showed no further sign of life, so
Nellie hurried-down the hall without him, wrap-
ping herself in a big blanket as she went.

How cold and crisp the white world looked!.
The stars were keeping their faithful watch over
this as they did over the first Great Gift, and even
the gas-jet just above the bundle seemed to shed
a brighter radiance than the others.
Nellie pressed her face close against the window-
pane as a slender figure came zigzagging up the
street, and yet closer as it came nearer.
"Boo! this is a colder morning, or night, or
whatever-you-may-call-it, than they usually make,
it seems to me," exclaimed Alf, suddenly appear-
ing at her side.
Oh, good I was'afraid you'd miss it," whis-
pered Nell, as Jim came opposite the house. "But
how did you manage about the bundle and the
clock?" she asked. "I was dreadfully frightened
at first."
"A little trick of mine," replied Alf. "You
see I woke up, and wondered what time it was;
so I went to look at your clock, and found that it
was just twenty-five minutes past four. I thought
it would be a shame to wake you for nothing, and
I set the alarm half an hour ahead,. threw on some
duds, ran over and hung up the package, and then
came back and crawled into bed again.to get warm.
But I think I need clothes more than Jim needs
them at present; this bed-spread is rather thin."
Oh, Alf! What if he should n't see it? ex-
claimed Nell.
Give him an opera-glass," replied her brother.
': He must be almost frozen," said Nell. "And
see how quickly he is up and down again "
Jim was speeding along as though wolves were
after him, and as these two shivering spectators
stood close together watching, he flew along to the
very post in front of skinflint Salmon's- up -
up-and out went the light!
"Oh," gasped Nell, he didn't ee it! "
"S-h! He is n't jumping down, though," said
Alf; "he's striking a match "
They could just see him hold the flickering
splint close to the bundle; then out went its feeble
light. But he soon struck another, and this time
relit the gas, and clung to the post, hugging it
while he took a long look at the card.
Oh, now he knows it's for him / said Nellie,
breathlessly.-Yes, now it dawned upon the poor
little chap that he was "Jim Walden," and that
a real Christmas, if not a merry one, was be-
Holding on with one arm, he swung out to take
a look around. There was no one in sight-
only the silent houses, the untracked snow, half
the street dark, the rest spotted with light. He
did not know that two pairs of eager eyes saw him
jerk the string loose, tear a.small hole in the
paper just to make sure it was no joke, then clasp







his treasure, turn out the light, slide down,-bun-
dle and all,--take a rapid tack up to the next post,
to the next, to a third and a fourth, until at last they
lost sight of him in the snowy distance.

The great relief of Christmas day had come,
with its happy open secrets. The three girls
were again together, and with unburdened minds
and untrammeled tongues were telling all they had
known or did know about everybody's presents.
Oh, Nell! broke in Madge, what came of
your scheme of giving a present for sweet charity's
sake ? "
"Well, that was rather a failure," answered
Nell, peering into a pocket of her new cardcase,
and then admiring anew the silver monogram on
it. "Yes, that did n't turn out as I expected."
And now she laughed outright. "You know my
plan was to give something where I could n't pos-
sibly get a return, but I did get something back
again -something out of all proportion to my
small outlay."


"Something back again!" both exclaimed,
half catching the hidden meaning in her words.
Don't poke fun at me, girls," she resumed, with
a warning quaver in her voice; but if you only
knew the immense amount of happiness and peace
of mind I got for four dollars and a quarter "
Nell could think of no adequate ending to her
sentence, so she broke off with a mere exclamation
point in voice and face; while Madge said, with her
eyebrows disappearing up under her bang, "Why,
what under the sun did you do ?"
"Wait," Nellie laughed, going to the window.
" Wait a few moments, and I '11 show you."
The day was shading off into the twilight, as the
girls crowded close together-two of them to see
they knew not what. Nell's quick eye soon spied
a muffled form come into sight around a corner.
Her heart gave athrob-but-why! it was Alfred,
running toward home, and firing snowballs at every-
thing as he came.
Nell secretly wondered if he had hurried on
purpose to see Jim pass; evidently not, for he
slammed the front door and she heard him making
his noisy way toward the back part of the house.
The girls begged to be told what they were to
look out for, but Nell only shook her head in denial,
talking about other things, while she nervously
kept her watch, until-there he really was! tramp-
ing comfortably through the snow, snug and warm,
rubber boots, double-breasted coat, telescope cap,
mittens and all.
Nellie's explanation to the girls was a short one,
but they went home feeling that somehow her
Christmas had been merrier than theirs.
Nell was sorry that Alf had missed the fun of see-
ing the transformation, and was going in the direc-
tion of the dining-room to search for him, when he
came flying in through the kitchen door shouting:
" I say, Nell, .did you see him ?"
Oh, Alf, why were n't you looking?"
"Looking!" exclaimed Alf. "I was gazing,
spellbound! Did n't he look fine? Blest if I did
n't think at first that it was I myself going along!"
"Where were you?" Nellie asked with round
Alf put his hand to his mouth and whispered
loudly, "In the coal-bin! I intended to meet
him on the street, but at the last moment I was
afraid I 'd smile too loudly, so I thought I 'd bet-
ter skip in behind the cellar window! "
Nellie laughed, Alf laughed, and then they both
laughed until Alf suddenly asked in sepulchral
"I say, Nellie, are n't you afraid we '11 die
young?-we 're so very good, you know! "
And those two silly, happy conspirators laughed


t~ r J. \1 i

S1 Ii 11I




THE fourth year of their captivity found Juan
and Juanita well-grown, strong children, perfectly
healthy, as rough and as tough as the cubs they
had stolen from a bear, and almost as wild and
brown. If the consuming desire of their mother's
heart could have been gratified and she could have
seen them, she would certainly never have recog-
nized her fair, refined-looking children in these
young barbarians, who were hardly to be dis-
tinguished from their Indian playmates; and if
Don Jose (himself now an ancestor) ever looked
down on the last representatives of the ancient
Maria Cruz de las Santas family, he must, indeed,
have been shocked at their appearance. It was
well that the Sefiora, their mother, did not see
them. She would have been afflicted by a thousand
things to which they had grown quite accustomed,
which they had, indeed, ceased to regard as evils.
Her children were now as dirty, as daring, as tat-
tered and as nondescript in costume, as any Co-
manche of them all, and were, consequently, in high
favor with the tribe. It is not wonderful that the
little captives preserved few of the habits and tra-
ditions of their country and family. Little remained
to them of the religious teaching they had learned
at their mother's knee, and that little was only re-
membered when they were in great straits. Their
Spanish was growing quite rusty from disuse.
Gentleness and politeness were not fashionable
traits in the society in which they found them-
selves, and as for cleanliness-well, as the ancients
knew, dirt is "a painless evil" to all children,
who, in this respect, are natural savages; and the
poor little Cruz de las Santas, if they had been
ever so much inclined to be dainty, would have
found such refinements as baths, soap, and brushes,
quite out of the question.
One thing they had not lost, and that was their
love for their mother. This was their salvation.
Without it, they would have become part and par-
cel of the tribe into which they had been adopted.
The vine-clad hacienda, the garden, the flocks,
all the features of their old life had grown. misty

and unreal to the children; they had become inter-
ested to a certain extent in their actual surround-
ings, and they enjoyed the free, wild life they
were leading. But even when they were most
contented, the thought of their mother kept alive
the wish to return to civilization; her sweet face
and tender love were still clearly mirrored in their
hearts and minds. They loved to talk of her, of
what she had done and might be doing, of her
sadness and loneliness, and of the joy that would
be hers when they returned. Yet it is probable
that they would have deferred any attempt to
carry out this haunting vision for so long that
they would have lost all desire to carry it out,
but for an occurrence that looked on the surface
like a mere accident. Juan and Casteel, who had
never been friends, got into a violent quarrel one
day, about some game that the former had shot
and the latter had seized. It ended in Juan's get-
ting a.beating, and on his complaining to Sha-
neco of his wrongs, he received neither redress nor
This fanned the boy's latent discontent into
flame. Infuriated by Casteel's taunts and cruelty,
and by the apparent indifference of Shapeco,-
whose only intention was to- make his ward duly
submissive to his elders, and to maintain tribal
discipline,-Juan lay awake all that night, indulg-
ing in the most furious and revengeful thoughts,
and trying to make plans for punishing his enemy.
But with the morning light came enough sober-
ness to show him the folly of pitting himself against
Casteel. In the fit of disgust that followed, the
memory of his mother's affection and indulgence
naturally came back to him with redoubled force,
and he determined to make another effort to escape
from the Comanches as soon as possible.
Having made this resolve, he was eager to com-
municate it to Juanita. She was overjoyed to hear
it, and agreed to everything that he proposed.
Innumerable conferences followed between them,
and both began to prepare in earnest for the under-
Oh, if we only had horses she .said.to him
one day when they had been discussing ways and





means. We could gallop and gallop and gal-
lop away so fast! "
Horses Nonsense!" said Juan, who knew
the unerring certainty with which, should they
make the'attempt on horseback, their foes would
take their trail, and in a few hours, at most, recap-
ture them. We must leave on foot and at night.
I don't want horses, but I must have a bow, and I
mean to get one, Nita. I have thought of a plan.
You will see "
In about a week, Juan's preparations were com-
plete; and seeking his sister one morning, he found
her watching a game of hunt-the-slipper, which
with certain variations and additions is extremely
popular among the Indians, and is played by
old and young. On this occasion two braves
were absorbed in it, and there was a ring of inter-
ested spectators looking on. Eight moccasins
were spread out on the ground in front of a young
warrior, who took a bullet in his right hand and
passed it swiftly under the soles of the moccasins,
above and around them, until he contrived to drop
it into one, unperceived. His opponent was then
required to guess where the bullet was. If he
failed, he paid a forfeit; if he succeeded, he gained
the prize. Each had a pile of blankets, buffalo-
robes, and other things beside him, and they had
been playing for hours, while two old warriors
squatted down near them rattling dried peas in a
gourd, and keeping up a droning chant that was
utterly hideous and discordant. When Juan
joined the lookers-on, the situation was exciting,
although no noisy demonstrations showed that the
Indians felt it to be so. A very handsome Mexi-
can blanket was the prize, and Casteel was taking
a great deal of time to consider the important
question that would decide, whether it should be
his or not;
"Can't you see where it is ? Where are your
eyes, you bat?" said Juan tauntingly, after a long
Where is it, my fox? Tell me that, and you
can take this, the best blanket I have," Casteel
scornfully replied, laying his hand on one that
was partly visible under a buffalo-robe, and pull-
ing it out into full view.
"It is under the flap of the third moccasin,"
said Juan, whose quick eye had noticed a very
slight bulge on the inside of that shoe. It was the
one nearest to Casteel, and was skillfully chosen
by his adversary on the principle that the best
place to conceal anything is immediately under the
nose of the person who is looking for it. Casteel
gave a disdainful grunt; and, on hearing it, Juan
stooped down and drew forth the bullet, saying
"Here it is Give me my blanket! "

The spectators shouted. Casteel drew his knife
by way of reply, and the next moment Juan's knife
also flashed in the sunlight. But this time Shaneco
upheld Juan, and made Casteel yield the blanket
in dispute to the boy, who seized Juanita by. the
arm and hurried her away to the woods.
"I have a blanket now," he said to her joyously,
when they were out of earshot, and a flint and
steel and some punk, to kindle our fires, and some
fish-hooks and a little corn and a wallet of dried
meat. I am all ready. What have you ?"
For answer, Nita ran to a hollow stump, tore
away eagerly the leaves that apparently filled it,
and brought back a supply of dried meat that she
had saved, together with some nuts and other
things that Juan rejected. Then they had a long
talk, in which it was settled that they should leave
that night just before midnight, when the moon
would be rising; that Juan was to keep awake and
give Nita the signal by laying his hand on her
face; and that, once out of the IndiarP encamp-
ment, they would travel south-west until daylight,
and then hide until night came again.
I have found out where Mexico is," said Juan.
"I pretended to Mazo" (a playmate) "that I
thought it was due north, and quarreled with him
about it, and he told me not only the direction in
which it lies, but a great deal beside that he has
heard from the braves. Was n't that sharp of
me? Don't you be frightened, Nita; I will take
care of you. You can just go to sleep to-night,
and I will call you when the time comes."
The weather was warm and pleasant, and the
Indians were sleeping in the open air without shel-
ter of any kind, so that it was not a question of
stealing away from Shaneco alone, but from all the
tribe. When Juan and Nita lay down as usual,
side by side, near their protector, they were so ex-
cited that it seemed easy enough to stay awake any
number of hours--all night, indeed. But when
two hours had gone by, and the perfect stillness all.
around had soothed and overcome their restless
anxiety, the healthy child-nature prevailed and little
Nita's eyes would not stay open any longer; soon
her soft, regular breathing told Juan that she was
fast asleep.
He kept awake, however, a long time after this,
listening to every sound, wondering if the people
about him were awake or asleep, thinking impa-
tiently that the moon would never rise. From this
his thoughts wandered to the journey he was about
to take, and to a thousand other things. Shaneco's
huge figure became more and more indistinct, and
a cricket chirped in Juan's very ear now without
rousing him. He seemed to be wandering over a
wide, wide plain; he forded streams; he was lost
in the woods; he fled from the Indians, who were on



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1,t.,i ;o-Er I.-h. r''.:. had' zlcpt; and]

ft-urlh 'thu h iiLt-'i~-(

t..1 to 1L j
,A ad lni- Iwci hi

vr;rrInri I'' :

so much. He was about to get up, knowing that
.there was no time to be lost, when the voices of
two or three Indians reached him and warned him
to be cautious. They were talking and jesting
about the owl, and it was quite half an hour before
all was quiet again. Another time, just as he was
thinking of starting, old Shaneco turned over,
and another interval of impatient waiting had to
be endured.

At last it seemed to
Juan that the moment for
S :'.' ". departure had come. He
S' had no difficulty with
Juanita, for the owl had
Sroused her, too, and she was
ide awake, waiting in fear and
trembling for the signal agreed
upio'r. Juan gently pressed her
hI njd. They both sat up and looked
S abur them. The camp was as quiet
S : t rh. r.re. Only the south wind
.' .=-,i:. ru-_lled in the tree-tops, and carried
d : I e.:jl lives around in a miniature
i; ri'w feet away. .. Every creat-
S ur.:- ,b:ur il-: mn was wrapped.in profound
pslep. .-Ar.:r -.:,me moments of keen scru-
t in, .:.' th- d I k; forms dimly visible on all
ii. i.- :.., i i ].:..:-kld at Nita and pointed to
i. th- ci'j .I'r'e rhe stars were paling and a
taLin, E,:'-' tiu.Lh admonished him to be off
t.-el: iea I -i..d ..f ;:olden light was poured over
:.i" ,arr ,..I the -r illey. They quietly arose.
ujuian r:.tpped hlirhly to the old chief's head,
stret.h.:d .:.ut i.s hand, and took down the
S!.,r,.-::..cetid L.'v. and quiver. At last it was
!i:- A.:.:..rdr; to the Comanche code, he
.. J i.:..- r.riing disgraceful; on the con-
i- r.i-,., h '. -I behaving in a very creditable
r.n'r. N.- ertheless, Juan's naturally
.i',' _.-.i-,i. an:,.-t affectionate nature made him
- f-,I -:'l .rmi ..,:lipunction when he .glanced
: '. 1''r lh.o unconscious Shaneco, and
r.:i ,iie b!!:: that the old brave had always
:-,-e1 i ,i..l ti: him. But a bow he must
I, l'.,n, ird .ht a beauty this one was, to
b :. nr: .\: he was about to move away
i il. ir.t i;l.ard that had crept into the
.:iui .:r i.l.pi.:l down and scampered off
..:r.:.: th-e :iAiss. Shaneco muttered' in
S I'.- -kI-i., .,iined over on his back, and
i, r,- .'..,e arim up over his head. Juan
..i ri.-ill:.-l, tightenedd but he had the
pr'-.:--.:!': ':' mind not to move or make
.Ir, -..':lrii''ii t:n. He kept perfectly still
and hcld hii breath, but his heart beat so
loudly that he thought it must betray
him. As for Juanita, she shook like an
aspen-leaf; but she did not cry out, nor run away.
After a moment, Juan stepped noiselessly back
again. Seeing his own bow and quiver at his feet,
he picked them up and gave them to Juanita, who
slung the bow around her neck. Then he seized
his wallet, and picked his way carefully between the
sleeping warriors that surrounded them. Juanita
followed closely, and when they were nearly out of
camp, he took her cold little hand in his to re-assure



her. Just then a warrior coughed, and both started
as though they had been shot. But nothing came
of it, and they were soon skirting the wood where
all their councils of war had been held, taking
advantage of the dark shadows it cast in some
places, and noticing with alarm that the tops only
of the trees were now glistening in the moonlight,
which meant that it was very late and that they
must make all possible haste.
As they scurried along in the uncertain light,
they fully realized that they had deliberately defied
one of the most warlike and merciless tribes that
this continent has ever held in all its length and
breadth; and as Juanita looked back fearfully
over her shoulder from time to time, she imagined
that she saw pursuers in every bush and tree, and
even urged Juan to go back before their flight was
But, once outside the camp, his courage had
risen, and he stoutly refused to do anything of the
kind. He took his bearings by the stars, and
resolutely set his face toward Mexico, talking as
boldly and cheerfully as he could all the.while.
"Do you see that large, beautiful star in front
of you, Nita? he said. We shall always travel
toward it, for that way lies our home. Our mother
is there waiting for us, and we must go to her, no
matter how far it is, or how many moons it will
take us to get there. Are you still trembling?
You must n't be such a coward. We have a good
start, and by the time the Indians find out that we
have escaped, we shall be far, far away, and they
will not overtake us. And if they do, I will not
let them hurt you."
Juanita was not particularly re-assured, but she
said nothing, and they walked on rapidly in silence
for some time. The wind blew deliciously fresh, and
full in their faces; the moon had slowly died out
of the clear heavens, and in the east the light had
deepened, gradually, until all the sky was a miracle
of beauty. Yet, if the fugitives looked often toward
the sunrise, it was with no appreciation of its ex-
quisite tints of rose and gold, but because the day
of probable discovery and recapture seemed to
-be coming all too fast. They had been traveling
about an hour, and, urged by love and fear alike,
had put considerable distance between themselves
and the camp, and Juanita was even beginning to
feel hopeful, when suddenly they heard a dog bark.
It sounded so near that they thought the Indians
were already upon them, and, in a dreadful fright,
took to their heels and ran like lapwings for a time,
until, indeed, from sheer exhaustion they were
obliged to stop. But even in this race for life, Juan
remembered one of old Shaneco's lessons, and,
whenever he could do so, chose the dry, rocky
bed of a creek for his path, in order that their trail

might be lost, or only found with great difficulty,
after much loss of time.
At last, panting and quite spent, they stopped
to get their breath, encouraged by the thought
that they had outrun or baffled their pursuers. As
soon as possible, Juan pushed on to a range of low
hills, from one of which he began to reconnoiter
his position. He saw in the distance a valley
through which ran two dark lines made by live-
oak and elm trees. The one that led off to the
south followed the course of a large creek which
he knew lay in his way, and for which he had been
on the lookout; so he cheerily explained to'Nita
that he knew exactly where he was, and that he
should make a bee-line for the creek, and there
they could rest and hide themselves until the fol-
lowing night.
Very soon after this, they came upon a small
water-course, and had 4t to wait for a drink until
they got to the largerr one, for they had followed
is dry.bed but a short distance when they spied a
deep water-hole. Eager to quench their thirst,
they-raced up to .it, stooped down, and began to
drink, but were again startled by a loud barking
and howling, and other strange noises, so cl6se to
them that all their terrors were renewed for a mo-
ment. The next instant, Juan recognized the
howling of a gang of coyotes, which was answered
by a loud chorus of gobbles from -a number of
.turkeys roosting in the trees above the water.
Great was their relief; yet these sounds, sure in-
dications of the approach of day, reminded them
that they must press on. The imperative neces-
sity of finding some hiding-place 'forbade- their
resting, and they hurried along the bed of the
stream, walking altogether on the stones, until
they came to the place where itintersected the main
creek, into which they turned. The coyoteconcert
still continued, and to the turkey chorus was rap-
idly added other sounds, such as the hooting of
owls, the twitter of song-birds, and the chirp of in-
sects. Possessed more and more by fear of their
pursuers, as the sun rose higher and higher, the
children ran on with all their speed, glancing to
the right and left as they went, to see if they could
find a place that seemed likely to shelter them-
two desperate, hunted little creatures.
Finally, Juan came to a spot where a little brook
emptied into the main creek, and there, a few hun-
dred-yards distant, was an immense oak-tree in full
leaf, its friendly limbs stretching out far and wide
and dropping low, as if eager to offer them an asy-
lum. Juan had never heard of the royal fugitive
who once fled to the heart of an oak for shelter,
but he had often hidden in one for amusement;
and he now turned into the brook, ran up the
bank, clambered upon the lowest limb, gave Nita



wtote. They
were very
n tired, but
-. 'r did not dare
.o to sleep.
While thus
:.: lC:ci d J...iting further
t c c d I' pin, nt_,. they had the
e o b b t il- pl,--,:ul of assisting
at .:or:n-irt to hi..:h no one is
e l in~ ii.:d. .,,rl lich a hunter
n. i -i r. r-ider itlr, i. l luck, t:. :,riend once or
ui ICE h' h ir i. T i zi- :a-i .:-i the coyote
ph,'.r of h.:h I i- .: s :lnr. -,r.,d a droll per-
Siorm-. t .- .-:. ahi:iou 1i o: 'nd-C: t i d .th great for-
S ah and d:.i r ,r. .\-,,t tr rntr .)Ilves, which
a:r.ait t d tl t.ut.. te ,,upd .5..- I on the sward
n at, eh t ri, :. w' h.cn the po.:.p r trie came,,their
]..-r ,,a- :., ,,e I":; .. ~ nr- ot.:. ai s to command
_t-nt,. .n. ro, o., as hl ,-..rj. r *:,f an. orchestra
So, t r igIl_ t : i -. aaid ti tt Ith L iusP:Jil ns under his
.a. n,- r. n onc the- tl! .: -:.-' 1 "ll gr the leader,
ath rd A irunid him in a ,:r.- Th, n goni vn .:. 11 opened with a
They' t..-,, r tr r h l of p ri r ir i .: ned in rc ular succes-
.whi.- ihnn b thi bai-. c-ont r.tl r, -,plrai rs ar, b.a ndri. aand so on
iuniit! th.: ho I. pa:k wa. t 'in l r, : ..,- perl.r:rmer apparently
-ii ln h,4 eia il mind r!o.: lil,- o cin :oeI ind all keeping


his hand to help her up, and was
soon ensconced in a fork or, rather,
juncture, of several large limbs
with the trunk. This spot he
made more comfortable by wrench-
ing off some branches and small
dead limbs, and improvising a sort .-
of rustic sofa. Now, at last, com-
pletely concealed as they knew
themselves to be by the dense
foliage, they could draw a long
breath incomparativesafety. Only '
comparative safety, for the fugi-
tives knew that the wonderfully
train ed sight of their enemies would I
soon find some clew as to the direc- .. :t !.'
tion of their flight, and that they "' .
would be tracked with all the cun- :.- -
ning and the almost supernatural
sagacity in woodcraft which the Indians possess, time by jumping up and down on their forefeet,
They strained their eyes and ears for a long with their noses lifted high in the air. These
while after this, looking and listening, but saw were familiar strains to Juan and Juanita; but
nothing, and heard only the gentle sighing of the it was -one thing to hear them while safe in an
leaves about them, the gobble of a turkey, the howl Indian camp, and quite another, when out alone





in the woods. Nita grew pale when she heard
the unearthly, long-drawn howls of the wolves
below her, answered by a prolonged, wailing
note from a lonely old coyote in the distance, and
shrank close to her brother's side. But they soon
had the satisfaction of seeing the pack slink off,
after finishing the programme for the occasion.
And now the wearisome excitement that Juan
and Juanita had undergone began to make itself
felt. The relaxation of the moment, their weari-
ness, the murmur of the leaves about them, all
combined to make them drowsy, and finally both
fell asleep. They were awakened by a well-known
voice that filled them with dread, and made them
certain that they had been followed and their hid-
ing-place discovered. And so it had been; but
by a dear and faithful friend instead of a cruel
enemy-.in short, by Amigo! Missing them in
the early dawn, he had-taken their trail unobserved
by the Indians, and had unerringly followed them
to the foot of the oak. Puzzled by the sudden end
of the trail, he began to whine, and gave a few
short barks and a great fright to the children. He
knew that they could not be far off, but where?
As for them, when they found that he had organ-
ized an independent search of his own, they were
delighted; for they had been feeling very lonely
and desolate, and that honest, loving face was a
cordial to their hearts, and seemed to bring them
fresh hope and strength. The next-moment came
the thought that if he were to begin barking again,
it would certainly attract the attention of the In-
dians, if any were in the neighborhood. Juan
parted the leaves, looked down, and spoke to
Amigo in a low, stern voice; and if ever a dog
laughed, from Mother Hubbard's time until now,
Amigo laughed when he saw those two faces--for
Nita, too, peeped out.
It will not do to stay here now," said Juan.
"We must leave this at once. Amigo would be-
tray us, and they would look first along the prin-
cipal water-courses. We must go over to that
So saying, he dropped to the ground, followed
-by Nita. They could hardly control Amigo's joy
at seeing them again on solid earth, but Juan
quieted him, and the trio started off briskly for the
high land, which they soon gained, and from which
they had an extensive view. Long and anxiously
did they gaze across the plain to see if 'they could
discover gny signs of pursuers. For a long while
they saw none, and rejoiced accordingly; but at
last Juan's sharp eyes made out some moving ob-
jects on the distant hills mere specks.
"Buffalo, wild cattle, or Indians," he said, put-
ting the worst supposition last in mercy to Nita,
whose teeth were chattering already in a nervous

chill. We must put some thickets between us
and them. Come -on! And starting off on a
run, Juan fairly flew over the ground. Nita.kept
up with him for some time, and Amigo frisked
cheerfully ahead as if out on a pleasure excursion;
but the little girl gave out at last, and stopping
short, she burst into tears, exclaiming piteously:
Oh, we shall be taken We shall be killed !
Oh, why did we ever run away ? "
Impatient as Juan was to go on, he too stopped,
and did his best to console and encourage his
sister; and his kindness and affection had a great
effect upon her. The sun was now high in the
heavens; its heat added- another distressing ele-
ment to their flight, and they were, moreover, suf-
fering from hunger and thirst,
There, there! don't cry, Hermanita mia /'"
said Juan. A few minutes wont matter. We will
just stop and get our dinner, and then we shall be
able to travel for hours again. This way "
So saying, he turned off to the right and made
for the creek again.
The season had been a very dry one, and he
knew there was no water to be had except in the
large streams, and there only in standing-pools,
that were either fed by springs from below or
were too deep to be affected by droughts. A cool
drink is always to be had from them, if you un-
derstand how to get it; for even when the water
on the surface is so hot as to be sickening, it is
possible to bring up a deliciously cold draught,
by putting a canteen on a long pole and running
it down quickly to the bottom, where the sun's rays
can not penetrate. The Indians use vessels made
from the skins of wild animals for carrying water
oil, and honey; and nature has provided them with
an admirable substitute for canteens in the Mexi-
can gourd with its two globes connected by a long,
narrow neck. It is a curious fact that this gourd
is found only in the countries where it is most
needed. In the absence of either gourd or can-
teen, our runaways had recourse to mother-wit.
Juan approached the water very carefully, avoiding
the sand and all other places where his footprints
could betray him; and kneeling down by a deep,
still pool,- he fell to running his hands down into it
as far ag possible, and throwing the water up
toward the top, thus creating a current from the
bottom, that soon gave them a fairly cool and re-
freshing drink. He had taken pains not to spill
any water, and had carried Amigo in his.arms over
patches of ground where the marks of feet might
put the Comanches on their track. When they all
had fully slaked their thirst, Juan led his little band
on up the bed of the creek, intending to take them
back to the hills again and let them rest little and
eat something. They did not mbve.a moment too

'*" My little sister."




soon. They had only passed the main trail that
ran up and down the creek a short distance, when
they heard the sound of horses' feet, and, soon after,
voices. Now, indeed, they knew that they were in
great peril, for they had been told that if they ever
attempted to escape again, and were captured, they
would be killed. Juanita _
fell into an ague at this -:--_-
crisis, but managed to .
keep up with Juan, who
darted on up the creek,
panting out at intervals,
"We must be out of
sight before they get to
the crossing." They had
scarcely reached a hid-
ing-place before the In-
dians rode down into the
bed of the creek. There
were fifteen of them, all -
armed with bows and
arrows and lances. They
were about four hundred
yards away, and, as Juan
could see, had stopped,
either to hold a council,
or because they had made '.
some discoveries.
The Indians soon de-
termined what course to
pursue. Eight of them
rode up the bank; four
rode down the creek; and .
how Juan's heart leaped
into his mouth when he
saw the other three turn
their horses' heads up
the creek, with Casteel's
painted, hateful face com-
ing first! Fortunately,
Juan was not only a cour-
ageous lad, but he had
the peculiar order of
bravery that grows cooler
and more collected in
time of great danger, and
is full of inspiration and
expedient. "THEY KNEW THEY WER
He did not lose his head
in the least. Nita had fallen on her knees and was
repeating, under her breath, such prayers as came
to her. Amigo was crouched down beside her and
seemed to understand the gravity of the situation
and Juan's sternly whispered command to be quiet..
Juan, as he peeped between the bushes, was a living
incarnation of two senses,.sight and hearing. They
had been so hard pressed-that.they.had sheltered

themselves behind the first clump of bushes they
could find; but Juan knew that they were only
partly hidden, and only safe until the Indians
turned the bend of the creek and came in full
view of their covert; then Casteel's keen eyes
would be sure to penetrate the scattering foliage

that.intervened.. Desperate maladies require des-
perate treatment. Juan gave a swift glance to
right and left, saw that the curve of the bend was
a long one, told by the sound that the Indians
were walking their horses, and took a bold reso-
Come! he said suddenly to Nita; and to her
terror and amazement, ran out of his hiding-place




aind sprang again into the bed of the stream, it
seemed to her, in the very teeth of their pursuers !
Whatever noise they made was drowned by that
of the horses' feet, and the banks of the stream
were high enough to hide them from sight. On
they sped. Juan knew that a break in the bank,
a trampled weed, a stone freshly displaced, a foot-
print, the slightest appearance of anything unu-
sual would be detected, and that detection meant
death. But he did not lose his self-possession for
an instant. Luckily, the rock beneath his feet
told no tales, though it echoed and re-echoed the
tramping of the horses in a way so alarming
that it seemed to Nita's excited imagination as if
they must. be ridden down any moment. At.last,
Juan saw with joy what he wanted, and instantly
took advantage of it. It was an old tree that had
probably been undermined by some freshet and
was now lying prostrate. Upon this trunk he ran
li.e a sqlarr.-I to the top of the bank.. Nita followed,
snd dear, o:od Amigo did not let so much as one
paw touch the earth. The three disappeared in
the undergrowth beyond, leaving not a trace be-
hind, just as the Indians made the turn that
would have proved fatal to the fugitives. Obey-
ing a natural impulse, the children ran swiftly
away from the creek for a few minutes, and then
Juan caught Nita's arm and bade her stop. She
was glad to do so, for she was utterly spent and
terrified nearly out of her wits.
It wont do to leave the river-bottom; we may

run upon the other party if we try to gain the post-
oak woods," said Juan. We must keep still
awhile and let Casteel's party go on."
Gradually the sound of horses' feet died away.
The children had become a little composed and a
little rested after their race for life. They began
to hope they were safe, and Nita's face had lost
its ashy look, when all their fears were revived
by a loud yell from the Indians who had ridden
down to the mouth of the creek and had discov-
ered some trifling proof that the- children had
been there.
Casteel's party heard this yell, and, turning, gal-
loped back to join them. Juan knew that they all
would soon be working at the trail together like so
many bloodhounds, but. that, thanks to his precau-
tions, it would.take them some little time to find it.
He stooped and laid his ear to the earth. The
instant Casteel passed by, he rose. Now, quick !"
he said to Nita, and swift as an arrow from his own
bow, he shot off in the opposite direction with his
little company close behind him, and.they did not
stop until they had put five or six miles between
them and their pursuers.
Look at the shadows. It lacks only an hour of
sunset," Juan said joyfully on starting. At first he
kept in the river-bottom; but when the twilight
came, he struck across the open country and gained
the woods, into which he and Nita plunged with
inexpressible thankfulness, and, again climbing into
an oak, were quite lost to sight.

(To be continued.)

WE are tenors who sing in the chorus.
B-flat is the next note before us.
We hope for the best,
But it must be confessed
That B-flat will be likely to floor us.




o l-

-A -

THE carpet in the parlor-is no better thaq the floor;

Of the carpet in the library one can say little more,
There's a good one in the dining-room, although it 's
rather sn all;

M- There's a palace in tlbe ngiddle, circled witl2 a wall of
44, With a noat of yellow water, four brow9 pathways rug-
ning back
S.. Through a fearful, frightful forest front the windows to
w 'xi' .: the door,

'Rouqd four lakes of deep dark water with green griffins
iql on the shore,

At tle corners there are castles, and in one King Artlur

1 the ,.,,:,r[h ior, is a giant, and the south is Charlenrgagne's.
Butte castle in tlhe corner by the closet is the best,
Aqd frown this I rule my kingdom and reign over all tle


But the n2iddle park aQd palace are a very woQdrous place,- ,' i
Statues, vases, fairies, graces, flowers ad' bowers through -' --
all the space. t.
ST is a garden of enchaptnret, and the dreadful ogress there
Is my sister-You should see her where she rumples up
ber lair!

Now, it's very, very seldoni that I'll play with dolls and
'Cause I .used to go iq dresses, with my hair like Mary's
But there's first-rate fug iq playing, on a rainy, door day,
Tbat her doll's a captive princess, to be rescued iq a fray.,

So with Knights of the Round Table and with Paladins of
Charlemagne and I aqd Arthur through tle wicked wood
And we always have such contests, before all these wilds
are crossed,
With the giart and the griffins, that half our knights
are lost.

But at last we reach the portals, and the lovely princess see,
Then the ogress, with her nmagic, captures every one but me;
Aqd trapsforned to wood and pewter iq her dungeons they
repine, -
But I bear away the princess, so the victory is mipe,


VOL. XIV.-15.







THERE has come to ST. NICHOLAS a letter so
helpfully suggestive with hints in a good cause,
that the editor has asked me to add to it a few com-
ments and explanations. I give the letter first:

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I want to tell you of a
society which I and some of my schoolmates joined
last winter, and which, I think, many girls would
like to join if they knew about it. It is called
"The King's Daughters," and the object is to
help one's self and others to correct faults or to
do kindnesses. It is a society of tens, every ten
forming a Chapte-!. Each Chapter has a presi-
dent, who conducts the meetings, and any mem-
ber can startanother Chapter.
Each Chapter selects its own object, and meets
at specified times to consult and report its prog-
ress. For instance, we decided: in ours that we
would try not to say disagreeable things about
people; aid when we met, weread whatever we
thought would help us to correct this fault, and if
any one had any suggestions to make about the
management. of the tens, she made it then. A
Chapter often has a secretary and. treasurer, if its
object requires -uch officer'. After a while, if the
tens wish, they can break up and form new ones.
The motto of the Society is In His Name," and.
there is a badge of narrow purple ribbon and a
small silver cross engraved with I.. H. N.
The Society started in New York, where I live,
and I should be very. glad to tell any of your girls
more about it, if they care to hear.
Your faithful reader, C.-C. STIMSON.

After all, the letter seems complete in itself, for
it is a beautiful feature in the work of The King's
Daughters," that all the detail can be left for each
Chapter to' work out for itself, as it adapts its aims
and efforts to the circumstances of its surround-
ings. Nothing need prevent any girl from being
a King's Daughter" if she wishes to be one,
You can not be so poor but that you may find a
chance to help some one poorer than yourself,
or so rich but that, with all you may be giving,
there may be still some wider opportunity wait-
ing for you. You can not live in any place so
small that there is no one in it needing help, or in
any place so large that, with all its homes and hos-
pitals and charities, there are not yet hundreds
of burdens to be lifted. And, by the helpfulness
which any of us may try to show, I mean not

only the charity which struggles to relieve absolute
want and suffering, but the thoughtfulness which
remembers to give a rose as well as to take away a
thorn, to add to happiness as well as to satisfy
hunger; to send a concert ticket to some one who
could not afford to buy one, as well as to send a
soup-ticket to some one actually hungry; to send
a carriage for some poor invalid to have a drive
who is not actually destitute, but only destitute of
luxuries; to see that poor children have not only
bread, but toys -not only the work they need,
but the pleasure they need. And if you are not
rich enough to buy new toys, you can help more
than you think by simply taking, care that the
books you have read and are done with, that the
toys of which the children of yofir household have
grown tired, are not packed away in: closets or
stowed out of sight on shelvesr:q in:trunks to wait
for some possible time when you." may, want
them." Some people say that there is.n particu-
lar virtue in giving away what you don't want
yourself; but to give away what you, don't want
yourself is much better than throwing it away ; for,
however poor a thing it may seem to you, there
is always somebody to whom it.may appear won-
derfully precious.
SPerhaps you .will, say, "-But .all. this I do now ;
why should I join a society for doing these things,
when I know now that I ought to do them, and
that I like to do them, and do do. them? "
The advantage of joining a society is that which
comes from organization, provided it does not be-
come so unwieldy as to destroy the feeling of per-
sonal interest in the work. The fact that you live
in the city or the country, in a-little village or a
large town, among rich people or poor, will, of
course, modify your kind of woik ; but work of
some. kind there will be for you everywhere, and
everywhere it will be work that ten of you can do
better together than separately. It is best not to
have less than ten members in any Chapter, but
the number need not be limited to ten; although,
as soon as there are twenty, it will be well to form
a new Chapter, to keep the advantages of organi-
zation without losing those of individuality and
personal work.
-Another and very helpful result of joining such
a society is the.effort it may encourage you to make
in the correction of individual faults. The King's
Daughters" will not forget, in trying to help others,
how:much help they need themselves, if not in ob-




training the actual outward comforts or luxuries of
life, at least in learning greater patience, sweet-
ness, or courage. The letter tells how the girls
belonging to one Chapter tried to correct them-
selves of the fault of speaking hastily or disagree-
ably of others; and how they were helped in doing
this not only by the constant reminder of the little
badge they wore, but by coming together to read
aloud any essay or poem or story that illustrated
the necessity for correcting such a fault. Even
the mere habit of exaggeration or high-flown
speech is worth correcting, though it may not be
a very terrible fault; and, indeed, no slight failing
can be too slight to need correction.
Perhaps you may like to know something of the
history of" The ICig's Daughters." In January,
1886, ten ladies met together to consider how they
could give more help b'y uniting together than by
each trying to work separately. They believed in
the Ten Times One is Ten idea, and they called
their band of ten The King's Daughters," wish-
ing to link together r ith ideas of work for humanity
and of aligiian.ice to God. They chose for their
badge a little purple ribbon, to be worn either with
or without the Maltese cross, and adopted Dr. Ed-
ward Everett Hale's mottoes:

Look up and not down.
Look forward and not back.
Look out and not in.
Lend a hand.

And because Our Saviour most perfectly lived
these mottoes, they took for their watchword,
"In His Name." Each branch of the society
consists of at least ten members, and the General
Society includes all branches. In a little circular
which they have published, they state that any-
thing, however small or simple, that helps another
human being to be better or happier, is proper work
for "The King's Daughters," and every branch
may, therefore, be left to choose its special work,
according to its location and its circumstances.
Frequent meetings of each ten are desirable in
order to obtain suggestions from one another and
secure unity of action. Whatever special work
may be done, all branches have a common inter-
est in increasing the number of tens. Each ten
may organize and elect officers, though this is not
essential in so small a body. Once having formed
a Chapter, each ten must decide for itself what it will
do, remembering that anything which makes any
other human being happier or better is worth doing.



BERTHA was a little maid
Wrapped in blindness' awful shade;
Yet her face was all alight
With a smile surpassing bright.

" Bertha, tell," .I said one day,
" Why you look so glad and gay-
Brimming full of happiness ?
What 's the joy? I can not guess!"

In a tone of wondering,
Speaking thoughtfully and slow,
" Why said she, I did n't know
There had happened anything"-
Here the laughter rippled out -
" To be looking sad about! "





',1l -. ,d


WHEN Grandpa was a little boy about your age," said he
1 To the curly-headed youngster who had climbed upon his knee,
So studious was he at school, he never failed to pass;
And out of three he always stood the second in his class- "
But, if no more were in it, you were next to foot, like me !"
Why, bless you, Grandpa never thought of that before," said he.
"When Grandpa was a little boy about your age," said he,
He very seldom spent his pretty pennies foolishly;
No toy or candy store was there for miles and miles about,
And with his books straight home he'd go the moment school was out- "
"But, if there had been one, you might.have spent them all, like me !"
"Why, bless you, Grandpa never thought of that before," said he.
"When Grandpa was a little boy about your age," said he,
He never staid up later than an hour after tea;
It was n't good for little boys at all, his mother said,
And so, when it was early, she would march him off to bed- "
"But, if she had n't, maybe you'd have staid up late, like me !"
"Why, bless you, Grandpa never thought of that before," said he.
"When Grandpa was a little boy about your age," said he,
In summer he went barefoot and was happy as could be;
And all the neighbors 'round-about-agreed he was a lad
Who was as good as he could be, except when he was bad--"
"But, 'ceptin' going barefoot, you were very much like me."
"Why, bless you, Grandpa 's often thought of that before," said he.






As SHADES of evening settled down,
The Brownies rambled through the town,
To pry at this, to pause at that,
By something else to hold a chat,
And in their free and easy vein
Express themselves in language plain.
At length before a store, their eyes
Were fixed with wonder and surprise
On toys of wood, and wax, and tin,
And toys of rubber piled within;
Said one, "In all our wandering 'round,
A sight like this we never found.
When such a passing glimpse we gain,

What wonders must the shelves contain "
Another said, It must be here
Old Santa Claus comes every year
To gather up his large supply,
When Christmas Eve is drawing nigh,
That children through the land may find
They still are treasured in his mind."
A third remarked, "Ere long, he may
Again his yearly visit pay;
Before he comes to strip the place,
We '11 rummage shelf, and box, and case,
Until the building we explore
From attic roof to basement floor,
And prove what pleasure may be found
In all the wonders stowed around."
Not long were they content to view
Through dusty panes those wonders new;
And, in a manner quite their own,
They made their way through wood and stone.

And then surprises met the band,
In odd conceits from every land.
Well might the Brownies stand and stare
At all the objects crowded there !




Here, things of gentle nature lay
In safety,, midst the beasts of prey;
The goose and fox, a friendly pair,
Reposed beside the lamb and bear;
There horses stood for boys to ride;
*Here boats were waiting for the tide,
While ships of war, with every sail
.Unfurled. were anchored to a nail;
There soldiers stood in warlike bands;
And naked dolls held out their hands,

As though to urge the passers by
To take them from the public eye.

To try the toys they soon began;
To this they turned, to that they ran.

The Jacl-in-box, so quick and strong,
With staring eyes and whiskers long,
Now o'er and o'er was set and sprung
Until the scalp was from it flung;





And then they crammed him in his case,
With wig and night-cap in their place,
To give some customer a start
When next the jumper flew apart.
The trumpets, drums, and weaponsbright
Soon filled them all with great delight.
Like troops preparing for their foes,
In single ranks and double rows,
They learned the arts of war, as told
By printed books and veterans old;
With swords of tin and guns of wood,
They wheeled about, and marched or
And went through skirmish drill and all,
From room to room by bugle-call.

The music-box poured forth an air
That charmed the dullest spirits there,
Till, yielding to the pleasing sound,
They joined to dance a lively round.

The rocking-horse, that wildly rose,
Now on its heels, now on its nose,
Was forced to bear so great a load
It seemed to founder on the road,

Then tumble feebly to the'floor,
Never to lift a rocker more.

Thus, through the place in greatest glee,
They rattled 'round, the sights to see,
Till stars began to dwindle down,
And morning crept into the town.
And then, with all the speed they knew,
Away to forest shades they flew.




HERE comes the happy New Year, over a glis-
tening pathway either of snow, or of dried leaves
and twigs that crackle with the spirit of winter
firesides--I can't quite say which it is, at this dis-
tance. At all events, I 'm here, too-your same
old Jack, and quite refreshed through the kindness
of the clever young brother who, with such sweet
gravity, occupied this pulpit last month. He is a
rising young Jack, and will yet make himself
heard, I am sure, in perhaps a wider pulpit than
this-though (between ourselves) he will never
address a more intelligent and worthy congrega-
tion than mine, my beloved.
And now, in view of 1887, here is an old verse
that my friend Santa Claus said he wished he had
put into all your Christmas stockings:

Old Father Time to his children doth say:
" Go on with your duties, my dears.
On the right hand is work, on the left hand is play;
See that you tarry with neither all day,
But faithfully build up the years."

Next we '11 take up another timely topic, as it
relates to cold weather. The Little Scholo-ma'am
enlisted her scholars in 'a nice little competition
not long ago. It was agreed that every boy and'
girl should bring to the school on a certain Friday
afternoon the most interesting piece of informa-
tion that he orshe had read during the week, and
a prize should be given to the one which was voted
.to be the most interesting item of the lot. Well,
a fine time they had; to be sure, and I wish I could
tell you of even.half.the curious facts those clever
young searchers unearthed from old books and
papers. But I can give you only the paragraph
that won the prize. It was the following extract,

copied by a little girl from one of her father's
library volumes. She called it

"A PERSON who has never been in the Polar
regions can probably have no idea of what cold
really is; but, by reading the terrible experiences
of Arctic travelers, some notion can be formed of
the extreme cold that prevails there. When we
have the temperature down to zero out-of-doors,
we think it bitterly cold. Think, then, of living
where the thermometer goes down to thirty-five
degrees below zero in the house, in spite of the
stove Of course, in such a case, the fur gar-
ments are piled on until a man looks like a great
bundle of skins. Dr. Moss, of the English Polar
Expedition of 1875 and 1876, among other odd
things, tells of the effect of cold on a waxed candle
which he burned there. The temperature was
thirty-five degrees below zero, and the doctor
must have been considerably discouraged when,
upon looking at his candle, he discovered that the
flame had all it could:do to keep warm It was so
cold that the flame could not melt all the wax of
the candle, but was forced to eat its way down in-
side the wax, leaving a sort of outer skeleton of
the candle standing. There was heat enough,
however, to melt oddly-shaped holes in this thin,
circular wall of wax, and the result was a beautiful
lace-like cylinder of white, with a tongue of yellow
flame burning inside it, and rmnding out into the
darkness many streaks of light This is not only
a curious effect of extreme cold, but it shows how
difficult'it must be to find anything like warmth in
a place where even fire itself almost gets cold."

The Little School-ma'am also sends you these
verses, by Miss Margaret Vandegrift, who, she
says, has written many admirable pieces for ST.
NICHOLAS, include; hi a tough little yarn!' in this
very number, called The Galley Cat."
I don't know much about fingers and thumbs
myself, but I 'm sure, from what the little girl in
the rhyme says, that arithmetic must be very
Her hands were spread before her,
She was looking very wise;
For there was a little wrinkle
Between her round blue eyes.

And I heard her softly saying,
I don't see how they can,
If Mamma is a lady,
And Papa a gentleman !

But Grandma joins in with them;
And though she 's never told,
I should think she was three hundred-
And may be more years old !

Now, every single one of them
-And, surely, each one knows -




JACK IN T Iii Er ~ ~ L PIT. 233

Says: 'Yes, you have ten fingers,'
And 'Yes, you have ten toes.'

The toes come right--I 've counted;
But when the fingers come,
On each hand are four fingers,
Four fingers and a thumb !

Two fours are eight,-I 've counted,-
It is n't one bit more !
And my thumbs are not my fingers,
And one from five leaves four !

And I don't see why they say it,
Nor how they make it come,
For a thumb is not a finger
If a finger 's not a thumb."

I 'M told that a foolish Frenchman, as a new
amusement for his idleness, has invented the sport
of snail-racing. The course is a long, smooth
board, at the end of which is a lighted candle.
When the room is darkened the snails naturally
begin to creep along the board toward the flame.
To make the race more interesting, various obsta-
cles are placed across .the board, as shown in the
picture, and the fastest snails, so to speak, are bur-
dened with pellets of clay.

This sort of
thing may do to
amuse a Frenchman
whose time hangs
heavy on his hands; but
the best excuse for it that
I 've heard is a verse, sup-
posed to come from the snails them-
selves. Here it is:

Our motto is "Festina lente,"
And it 's'better than ten out of twenty;
For the later you start, and the slower you go,
The sooner you '11 learn who is beaten, you know I

I LIKE a laugh, and especially a young laugh,
meaning the laughter of little folk. It is one
with the blue sky, and the brook, and the clover's
nodding, and the joyful life of birds- but some-
times the children in my meadow laugh so heartily
that, apart from liking the music of it, I have a
natural Jack-in-the-pulpity desire to know-what
it's all about, and the more I try to find out, the
more I don't succeed.
Now, as an instance; the other day, Brother
Green had a little crowd around him, and he was
holding forth, as is his wont, in a morally funny
way, on the subject of honest observation. "Look
for yourselves," said he ; "learn what you can from
good books, but study Nature more. Learn directly
from her whenever you:can, and when' you write
your composition for the dear Little School-ma'am,
write what you- know instead of- repeating things
that you have read in books. But there is a still
closer application of the rule," he continued.
"Not only write what you think you know, but
be sure that you kyow what you know. If you do
this you will not be apt to make such a mistake
as the Frenchman did in the old story, when-"
Here the Deacon paused, and two or three sleepy
children became wide-awake.
"When what, Deacon Green?" they asked.
"Why," said the Deacon, looking slowly at one
and another of his hearers -" why, when, in
writing a book, he, the Frenchman, spoke of the
lobster as 'the cardinal of the sea.'"
Ha! ha! ha! laughed the big boys.
He! he! laughed the big girls.
Ha! ha, ha, he, he echoed the littler ones, but
they looked puzzled.
"Cardinals," explained the Deacon, "generally
dress in the bright red, which is consequently
known as cardinal red; so you see the Frenchman
called the lobster the-"
"Oh, oh!" exclaimed several of these little ones,
showing their white teeth and laughing now in
hearty earnest.
"I see you understand," said the Deacon;
and he went on with his talk.
Now, what did they understand? and
where was the mistake in calling a
lobster "the cardinal of the
sea"? Is there no one here
to take the part of the
absent Frenchman?
Come, dear little
land- crabs,


J AC X- I N r T 4 ],E R V LPIIT.




Miss SaANCES E. WILLARD, whose work in life is to do good, to
help the helpless, raise the fallen, and do battle.against wrong, has
just written a book that all the girls who are just budding-into
young womanhood may read thoughtfully. It is, entitled, "How
to Win," and is essentially a book for girls. It is advice on a high
plane, and the spirit of the book can not but aid ambitious girls in
their desire to become self-reliant and self-helpful.

MAKE THEM" is a new: book for young people, written by.E. S.
Brooks, well known to the readers of ST. NICHOLAS who, through
him, have become acquainted with several interesting "Historic
Boys" and "Historic Girls" Chivalric Days" tells some partic-
ularly entertaining stories of certain other.boys and girls of the long.
ago. It is published in most attractive style by Messrs. G. P. Put-
nam's Sons, of New York, who brought out the:volume of" Historic
Boys" a year ago.

"THE ACORN is a laudable little newspaper, published by one of
the ST. NICHOIAS boys, Edwin L. Turrt blI .. 1' L. .;r.g.:.., tree,.
Baltimore. He is editor, type-setter, r...'.i.e..er, a.c.s ch.el .:..ii-
tributor, and the paper is a neat enough piece of workmanship to
make even Phaeton. Rogers envious. In this, however, it differs
but little from many of the amateur newspapers of our land. The
only reason why-we give special mention to The Acorn and its thir-
teen-year-old editor, is because of the spirit that prompts its issue.
The young editor devotes all the proceeds from its publication, not
to tricycles and unlimited candy, but to a worthy charity- the free
kindergarten of the city of Baltimore. Kindly charity is a gracious
thing to see in the young people of our happier homes,.who, in the

profusion of their own. blessings, too often.forget.the less fortunate
children of the street. So, success, says ST. NICHOLAS, to Editor
Turnbull! Great oaks do sometimes from little acorns grow.

THERE is no land more dramatic or picturesque in its history
than is Germany--the-land of Charlemagne and Otto and Henry
the Black, of.knights. and crusaders, of Hohenstaufens and Haps-
burgs, of castles and free cities, of the Rhine, the Black Forest, the
Hartz mountains, and all the fabled homes of gnome and goblin,
sprite and fairy. Mrs. Charlotte. Moschelles has collected, in a
neat little volume called Early German History," certain of the
most important events in German annals,, and has made a book
for young people 'that -they,will find highly-interesting, instructive,
and entertaining.

STHERE. are three well-known, artists who -are- occasionally con-
founded one with another on account. of. the curious- similarity
'of their names, which nevertheless are spelled or pronounced'
One-of them.is the English painter, John Everett Millais, whose
picture, "The Princes in the Tower," is-familiar to 'the'-readefs of
ST. NICHOLAS, and whose name is' pronounced, as- though spelled
Millay. ,-Another is the French peasant painter, -Jean Frangois
Millet,. of whom Ripley Hitchcock writes so charmingly in the
present number of ST. NICHOLAS, and whose name is pronounced
like that of the English artist, despite the difference in spelling.
The third, is the American artist, Frank D. Millet, who very sensi-
bly, as many boys and girls will think, pronounces his name.just
the way he spells it,


DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: My sister Emily and I are two New York
schoolgirls who left home in October last for Australia.. We went
overland to San Francisco, andfrom there sailed across the Pacific
Ocean to Sydney. We stopped at Honolulu and one of the Naviga-
tor Islands, also at Auckland, New Zealand, where we climbed up
to the top of Mount Eden with Papa, and looked down into the
mouth of the crater. The view from the top was lovely, but I can
not tellyou about it now. Papa says we may return home via
the Suez Canal. I hope we may, for then we shall have had a trip
around the world, sailing on the Pacific, Indian, and Atlantic Oceans,
and the Red and Mediterranean Seas.
We get the ST. NICHOLAS every month by the mail steamer, and
I thought you might like to get a letter from here, telling you some-
thing of the black aborigines, the native Australians. They have jet-
black skin, and their hair is black and very bushy. They call their
houses "humpys," and their wives "gins." Their war arms are
the boomerang and waddy. The boomerang is shaped like a cres-
cent, and, if thrown properly, will return to the feet of the thrower.
The waddy is like a club, made of very strong and heavy wood, and
is sometimes ornamented with feathers and heavy old nails driven in
around the top. Yours truly, GRACE B-.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl, nine years old. I live in
Colorado, but in the summer-time I live on a ranch,, and in.winter
i live in Colorado Springs.
I have a little brother; his-age is seven years. We all went to a
round-up yesterday.. There were over a thousand cattle, all in a
bunch, out onwthe plains, and a lot of men on horseback were riding
in among them and getting all of the same brands together, so'they
could be driven to the ranches, where they belong. It was very
exciting to watch them. I should think it would tire the ponies very
much, for they ride so hard. Your little reader, M. H. C-- .

A.LLe.:HEi', P.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I do not believe y.:.u I-' lr.'y oihr f..e.
year-old firemen among your readers, so, as I Ike Nlimm' t.m re- .
what other little boys play, may be i t '.' .:.u,,A1 i. c:. 'hear how I
came to be afireman. Near one o:' Mr. 'ra,-Fpio;': an engine-
house, said to be ore f the F. is Irn h .:.:.uriic\ T h. firr ren 1
boys, and I often g :- .:. -.:e ht -r. I k., i. Aill the ailar r.',
are rung and how tiv :till d....: r 3-. .jp." 'ed t.- cle.:rri:iii Ori. .:.n:-
of the firemen too --m.- in hS: arm: sr-d ilI.d .1-.., n p-l:e sait. ,r.e
from the second tc I : rr ri.:....r I .-.n :e*- ihrem -:Ir.; .:. .r.:,
and I have seen t.-:m ,ata I .re, :.. i ,,l-, i .,l be s a r-m i r, :'.s .
When fy aunties grew tired of having all their chairs turned into
fire-engines, they bought me a toy fire department, just like a real
one, and now I can play fire all day. My chief's buggy, hose-car-
riage, and engine are of cast iron, and the hook and ladder of tin.
When the gong sounds, the chief goes first, followed by the hose-
i: .rni e. and then the engine. The hook and ladder has to wait
for a second alarm. All the horses can be unhitched, the engine and
hook and ladder each having two, the buggy and hose reel but one.
The ladders and firemen can be taken from their places, and the little
.rubber hose unwound from the reel.
I have plenty of other toys, but next to my fire department I like
my bisque animals, families of rabbits, bears, lions, and monkeys,
and my two gum pug dogs.
But best of all is when Mamma takes me on her lap and reads to
me; and of all my books, ST. NICHOLAS is the nicest.
Yours truly, WILLIE.

MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have never seen any letter from
Havre, so I thought I would write. I am an English girl, aged
twelve, and I have four brothers and five sisters, so that, altogether,
we are ten children, which is a fair-quantity. There are two pairs





Miss SaANCES E. WILLARD, whose work in life is to do good, to
help the helpless, raise the fallen, and do battle.against wrong, has
just written a book that all the girls who are just budding-into
young womanhood may read thoughtfully. It is, entitled, "How
to Win," and is essentially a book for girls. It is advice on a high
plane, and the spirit of the book can not but aid ambitious girls in
their desire to become self-reliant and self-helpful.

MAKE THEM" is a new: book for young people, written by.E. S.
Brooks, well known to the readers of ST. NICHOLAS who, through
him, have become acquainted with several interesting "Historic
Boys" and "Historic Girls" Chivalric Days" tells some partic-
ularly entertaining stories of certain other.boys and girls of the long.
ago. It is published in most attractive style by Messrs. G. P. Put-
nam's Sons, of New York, who brought out the:volume of" Historic
Boys" a year ago.

"THE ACORN is a laudable little newspaper, published by one of
the ST. NICHOIAS boys, Edwin L. Turrt blI .. 1' L. .;r.g.:.., tree,.
Baltimore. He is editor, type-setter, r...'.i.e..er, a.c.s ch.el .:..ii-
tributor, and the paper is a neat enough piece of workmanship to
make even Phaeton. Rogers envious. In this, however, it differs
but little from many of the amateur newspapers of our land. The
only reason why-we give special mention to The Acorn and its thir-
teen-year-old editor, is because of the spirit that prompts its issue.
The young editor devotes all the proceeds from its publication, not
to tricycles and unlimited candy, but to a worthy charity- the free
kindergarten of the city of Baltimore. Kindly charity is a gracious
thing to see in the young people of our happier homes,.who, in the

profusion of their own. blessings, too often.forget.the less fortunate
children of the street. So, success, says ST. NICHOLAS, to Editor
Turnbull! Great oaks do sometimes from little acorns grow.

THERE is no land more dramatic or picturesque in its history
than is Germany--the-land of Charlemagne and Otto and Henry
the Black, of.knights. and crusaders, of Hohenstaufens and Haps-
burgs, of castles and free cities, of the Rhine, the Black Forest, the
Hartz mountains, and all the fabled homes of gnome and goblin,
sprite and fairy. Mrs. Charlotte. Moschelles has collected, in a
neat little volume called Early German History," certain of the
most important events in German annals,, and has made a book
for young people 'that -they,will find highly-interesting, instructive,
and entertaining.

STHERE. are three well-known, artists who -are- occasionally con-
founded one with another on account. of. the curious- similarity
'of their names, which nevertheless are spelled or pronounced'
One-of them.is the English painter, John Everett Millais, whose
picture, "The Princes in the Tower," is-familiar to 'the'-readefs of
ST. NICHOLAS, and whose name is' pronounced, as- though spelled
Millay. ,-Another is the French peasant painter, -Jean Frangois
Millet,. of whom Ripley Hitchcock writes so charmingly in the
present number of ST. NICHOLAS, and whose name is pronounced
like that of the English artist, despite the difference in spelling.
The third, is the American artist, Frank D. Millet, who very sensi-
bly, as many boys and girls will think, pronounces his name.just
the way he spells it,


DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: My sister Emily and I are two New York
schoolgirls who left home in October last for Australia.. We went
overland to San Francisco, andfrom there sailed across the Pacific
Ocean to Sydney. We stopped at Honolulu and one of the Naviga-
tor Islands, also at Auckland, New Zealand, where we climbed up
to the top of Mount Eden with Papa, and looked down into the
mouth of the crater. The view from the top was lovely, but I can
not tellyou about it now. Papa says we may return home via
the Suez Canal. I hope we may, for then we shall have had a trip
around the world, sailing on the Pacific, Indian, and Atlantic Oceans,
and the Red and Mediterranean Seas.
We get the ST. NICHOLAS every month by the mail steamer, and
I thought you might like to get a letter from here, telling you some-
thing of the black aborigines, the native Australians. They have jet-
black skin, and their hair is black and very bushy. They call their
houses "humpys," and their wives "gins." Their war arms are
the boomerang and waddy. The boomerang is shaped like a cres-
cent, and, if thrown properly, will return to the feet of the thrower.
The waddy is like a club, made of very strong and heavy wood, and
is sometimes ornamented with feathers and heavy old nails driven in
around the top. Yours truly, GRACE B-.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl, nine years old. I live in
Colorado, but in the summer-time I live on a ranch,, and in.winter
i live in Colorado Springs.
I have a little brother; his-age is seven years. We all went to a
round-up yesterday.. There were over a thousand cattle, all in a
bunch, out onwthe plains, and a lot of men on horseback were riding
in among them and getting all of the same brands together, so'they
could be driven to the ranches, where they belong. It was very
exciting to watch them. I should think it would tire the ponies very
much, for they ride so hard. Your little reader, M. H. C-- .

A.LLe.:HEi', P.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I do not believe y.:.u I-' lr.'y oihr f..e.
year-old firemen among your readers, so, as I Ike Nlimm' t.m re- .
what other little boys play, may be i t '.' .:.u,,A1 i. c:. 'hear how I
came to be afireman. Near one o:' Mr. 'ra,-Fpio;': an engine-
house, said to be ore f the F. is Irn h .:.:.uriic\ T h. firr ren 1
boys, and I often g :- .:. -.:e ht -r. I k., i. Aill the ailar r.',
are rung and how tiv :till d....: r 3-. .jp." 'ed t.- cle.:rri:iii Ori. .:.n:-
of the firemen too --m.- in hS: arm: sr-d ilI.d .1-.., n p-l:e sait. ,r.e
from the second tc I : rr ri.:....r I .-.n :e*- ihrem -:Ir.; .:. .r.:,
and I have seen t.-:m ,ata I .re, :.. i ,,l-, i .,l be s a r-m i r, :'.s .
When fy aunties grew tired of having all their chairs turned into
fire-engines, they bought me a toy fire department, just like a real
one, and now I can play fire all day. My chief's buggy, hose-car-
riage, and engine are of cast iron, and the hook and ladder of tin.
When the gong sounds, the chief goes first, followed by the hose-
i: .rni e. and then the engine. The hook and ladder has to wait
for a second alarm. All the horses can be unhitched, the engine and
hook and ladder each having two, the buggy and hose reel but one.
The ladders and firemen can be taken from their places, and the little
.rubber hose unwound from the reel.
I have plenty of other toys, but next to my fire department I like
my bisque animals, families of rabbits, bears, lions, and monkeys,
and my two gum pug dogs.
But best of all is when Mamma takes me on her lap and reads to
me; and of all my books, ST. NICHOLAS is the nicest.
Yours truly, WILLIE.

MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have never seen any letter from
Havre, so I thought I would write. I am an English girl, aged
twelve, and I have four brothers and five sisters, so that, altogether,
we are ten children, which is a fair-quantity. There are two pairs




of twins in our family, the eldest, a boy and a girl called Noel and
Nodlle, are five years old; and the youngest, Mildred and Muriel,
two girls, are two.
I like your magazine very much.
Here we see those great transatlantic steamers going in and out
of the harbor. We live quite close to the sea, so we get a very good
view of the passing ships. They have just built a beautiful broad
boulevard here, and they are thinking of building a harbor which
will run far out into the sea. The boulevard is called the Boule-
vard Maritime," because it runs along the edge of the sea.
Your very interested reader, WINIFRED S-.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Last summer we went to Roaches Point,
on Lake Simcoe, for the holidays. One evening, just after tea, my
cousin and another boy and I went out trawling. I was trawling,
when I felt a pull. I told my cousin to stop rowing, because I was
-on a log, but the other boy that was with us said, No, you are not;
you have gota fish." "So Ihave," I said, and I told mycousin to row
to the shore, for I knew it was a very large one, and if we had not
taken it into shallow water, we could not have landed it. We pulled
it in to the side of the boat, and were just going to catch hold of it
.and hoist it in, when it gave a great kick and ran off again; but it
was n't- off the hook; we pulled it in again. One of the boys held
the line and the other took the fish round the body and hfted it
in. We then went home and weighed it; it was twenty-one pounds;
its length was three feet eight inches. It was the largest muskalonge
.caught in Lake Simcoe in 1886. I am eleven years old.

DEAR OLD ST. NICK: I am so very fond of you that I thought I
-ought to write to tell you so, although there is no need of saying so,
for I know all your readers must love you very much. I have been
spending the, summer in the North, but my home is in Savannah.
Ga I have n't seen many letters from your Southern readers, so I

thought I would write to tell you that your Southern friends think
just as much of you as those n the North. I have been taking you
for five years, and like you better every year. I enjoyed "Little
Lord Fauntleroy" very much, and hope that "Juan and Juanita"
will be as interesting.
I remain your constant reader, IDA B. H- 13 years.

MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We have a. lot of pets; they are very
nice. The'kittens purr, the birds whistle, and the dogs wag their
tails when they are happy. The dogs growl, and the cats wag their
tails and puff when they are angry. I send you a card in case it
is your birthday. I am your loving SOPHIE D- .

WE wish to acknowledge with thanks pleasant letters from the
young friends whose names follow. We are sony that there is
not space for their letters. Annie, Minnehaha," Mary L. Evans,
Punch Millar, Jamie. Gregg, "Yes and No," Mabel and Annie
Reynolds, Anna B., Isabella B., Hortie O'M., Coralie M., Irvin
-Bair, Wm. N. Colton, Faith Bradford, Mary R. Hardy, Winnie B.
B., M. E., Mary K. Hadley, K. L. L., Lilyan S. Anderson, Blanche
A. W., Annie Hitchcock, Raymond V. Ingersoll, Mamie L., Del
Webb, H. L. M., Harrington G; Hall, Katharine Maury, Clarence
E. C., Helen Thompson,Walter Cohen, Josie Mughan, Alfred M. S.,
Joel W. Reynolds, Charles Weed, Daisy P. Hougue, Elsie Rooth,
Belle Harper, Bennie Castle, V. J., Margery C., Annie Griswold,
Alva P., "Ramona," T. Cheshire Shipley, Edith Puffer, Henry
Remser and Willie Darrach, M. G. Holland, Charles F. Lester, J.
Roberts, Charlie S. Miles, Camilla S., J. F. O., Beatrice G., Mollie
Onrr, Mary H. B., Barry, Gertie N., Evelyn," Hector," Katha-
rine Seon, Reno Blackstone, Maude S., and Alice Hutchings.




:C, : 236




You all know, good readers, how natural it is for us
young folk, when we are playing games in our own
yards or gardens, to feel that the boys and girls who are
playing on the other side of the fence are having a much
better time than.we.. And you know, too, how apt we
are, in such a case, to wish ourselves over upon their
grounds for a while.
An experience not unlike this may possibly occur now
and then with us ST. NICHOLAS folk., In these days, for
instance, we are:having a right good time, we know; but
next door, just over the fence, something is going on at
present that --well,- the sooner we all. go and see about
it, the better.
In other words, THE CENTURY MAGAZINE is now telling
its grown-up readers a wonderful story, which should be
read-also by every boy and girl old enough to understand
it. It is the story of the life of Abraham Lincoln, the
great President of our country during the most thrilling
and momentous epoch of its history. And it is -told by
Mr. John G. Nicolay and Ccl: John Hay, who were his.

private secretaries while he was in the White House, and
who have spent nearly a score of years in preparing this
authentic and masterly account of Lincoln's life. The
interest begins with the very opening chapters, which tell
how his grandfather settled in Kentucky with that famous
hunter, Daniel Boone, and was killed by Indians; and
how Abraham Lincoln himself, when a boy, was rescued
by another lad from drowning; and what struggles and
privations he endured; and what a rough-and-ready life
befel him as a youth; and how through it all he displayed
the same sturdy purpose and integrity and sure wisdom
that, later on, did so much-to save the nation.
SBut this is only a glimpse over the hedge. If you are
wise, you will gain for yourselves the advantages which
your parents and older friends are enjoying, by becom-
ing acquainted with this story of the life of Lincoln-
already recognized as one of the most remarkable biog-
raphies ever written. A history so great in its subject
arid scope, and so noble and clear in its style, can not fail
Sto interest and inspire the young people of America.



As You already have been notified by a circular from
your President, a well-known scientific journal has made
a proposal to issue a special organ for the Agassiz Asso-,
ciation, to be known as" The Swiss Cross." Mr. H. H.'
Ballard will be the editor of the pew publication, which
will be devoted exclusively to the interests of the Agassiz
Association, and will be sent to its members at the sub-
scription price of one dollar a year.
ST. NICHOLAS, wishing well to the Agassiz Associa-
tion, which it practically established, and which it has
done much to maintain, now heartily advises your Presi-
dent to accept this opportunity of transferring the reports
to a purely.scientific journal. They will there be given
more space and prominence than can possibly be ac-
corded to them in the crowded pages of ST. NICHOLAS,
which, of course, must be conducted with a view to the
interests of the great majority of its readers.
After friendly consultation between the editor of this
magazine and the President of the Association, it has,
therefore, been decided that the publication of the reports

in the pages of ST. NICHOLAS shall terminate with the
present issue.
We have only to add the assurance of our cordial in-
terest in the Association and its progress, and to wish
the Society along life of usefulness and prosperity.
Meantime, the change here announced implies no sep-
aration between any members of the Agassiz Association
and this magazine. The bond between ST. NICHOLAS and
its readers is, we trust, non-transferable," and the mag-
azine will, of course, continue to print articles and com-
munications of interest and value to young students of
Nature. Indeed, we already have on file many natural-
history papers and contributions conveying scientific in-
formation. Our pages, therefore, will not lack material of
a character specially suited to members of the Agassiz As-
sociation; and we shall, with pleasure, print once or twice
a year a communication from the President of the Associ-
ation giving a general review of its progress and plans.
Our thanks, and those of all the members of the Society,
are due to Mr. Ballard for his energetic services in behalf
of the Association, which have contributed so largely to
its present flourishing condition.


PERHAPS no month in the history of our Society has been more
satisfactory in its generalresults than this. As appears from our reg-
ister, seventeen new and reorganized Chapters have been added to our
roll. More reports have come than can possibly be reproduced, and
the general tenor of the reports and letters received has.been most
encouraging. We have now enrolled 984 Chapters, and by far the
larger part of them are vigorously active. During the past year a
much greater interest in our work has been manifested by parents
and teachers than ever before. As a consequence, the average
Chapter now organized is more firm in, texture, has more thread to
the inch, than the average Chapter of a year, or .two ago, and will
consequently attain to a stronger growth and a morepermanent po-
sition. '
PROFESSOR W. O. CROSBY, of the Boston Society of Natural
History; Boston, Mass., has volunteered to supplement the course
of lessons in Elementary Mineralogy, given during the past year,
by a course of instruction in Determinative Mineralogy. It is pro-
posed that this course, like the other, shall be freely open to every
one, whether a member of the A. A.'or rot; andall who desire to avail
themselves of this opportunity may send their names at once to
Professor Crosby. The course will be based upon Professor Crosby's
recently published book, entitled Tables for the Determination of
Common Minerals, chiefly by their Physical Characters." Although
the special object of this course will be instruction and practice in
the determination of unknown minerals, it will also afford the
student a valuable training in the observation and classification of
minerals. It is not designed solely for those who have taken the
first course, but may be profitably pursued by any persons feeling
an interest in the subject, especially if they will study carefully the
introduction to the tables, in which all the various properties of min-
erals are,clearly explained.
The method of the determinations is somewhat similar to that of
analytical botany; and an effort will be made to show that common
minerals may be identified with the same ease and accuracyas com-
mon plants. Each applicant for the course will receive a copy of
the book, a collection of twenty-five minerals, numbered, but not
named, and a sufficient number of blank reports. The specimens
will be determined in the order of the numbers, and the reports for-
warded in series of five to Professor Crosby for correction. They
will be stamped RightCor Wrong, as the case maybe; and, if wrong,
the point will be indicated at which the student began to go wrong,
so that the determination may be repeated and a second report for-
warded. When all of the specimens have been correctly determined,
a second collection of twenty-five specimens will be sent, to those
desiring it, and after that a third collection. Or, those having un-
named specimens- in. their private cabinets may, when they have
finished the first'twenty-five specimens, determine these, sending a
.small numbered fragment in-each case with the report. In this way
students and Chapters will be able to. name and classify their own
collections of minerals, while making them the basis of a valuable
training in mineralogy. It -is- important, however, that the deter-
mination of miscellaneous specimens should be deferred until the
f.xu-r reg-ulr col'l.:i.rn i at r.venty-five specimens has been faithfully
.-..ked out f..r ithe as. e been carefully selected to form an easy
inir.:-dclunin the .5 e : :."h tables. The confirmatory chemical
tests given in'the last :.:l.. r of'the tables will not be required in
most cases. '~t'i- asr, however, of the simplest character, and the
blow-pipe, glass-tubes, and other simple apparatus which they re-
quire ..;li .be : .ri t tr: :i: ,J-irin IT.iC.T
It v ill b5 Eter-.e. thlt the pl .:,i" the course is such thatmem-
bi--: c:.l' he lj- i rri- lrk .: r :1.:.,. I and as continuously as
Phb.' dc:r-:; JinCr p rld .j:..; .'er I' :." r'i.:.-ts is being corrected by
Prc.i:.- Cr.:.il.. ; i:,: :.,-d series'may be prepared.
A an r.Jd- r:ji. l : in'e,- ie 'to careful work, the following system
of :rei.tr: hatr r .]-r, J .J:d If a mineral is reported coiiectly the
first time, it will count one' if it is reported correctly the second
Time, it will count one-half; but if it is reported incorrectly the
second time, Professor Crosby will' give the correct name of the
mineral, and the student's credit will be zero. A premium-is thus
offered f:.r i rbril. p.;iri. r.; c determinations, since the sum of
the cre-.J : m-.i;u Lr.e q.uail.y rather than' the number of the
To cover the, cost of the book, specimens, and postage, a-fee of
two dollars will be charged, which maybe sent to Professor Crdsby
with the application'for membership. Each additional collection of
twenty-five specimens will cost fifty cents; and a price-list of the
apparatus will accompany the book.

803, Wyandotte,Kans. (A). We are thinking of building in. the
spring. We are collecting and studying with a will. We are now
taking a course in geology, led by one of our members, and intend
to take others as the season advances. We have opened two or
three mounds and obtained several fine relics. A question arose
concerning archaeology. Is it a natural science? Our collection
comprises insects, minerals, Indian relics, shells, and a few bird-
skins. We have decided not to make collections of birds' eggs.

We hold our meetings in the office of a prominent physician arid
scientist, but expect to put up our own building in the spring.-
C. H. Casebolt, Sec.
: 8r, Nyack, N. Y. (A). The first regularmeetingof the Agassiz
Association in Nyack was held on March 26, 1885. Four members
constituted Chapter 811. Since then the society has -steadily in-
creased, and now numbers twenty-four members. Our method of.
work for each evening has been to have two specialists who are
appointed by the President at the previous meeting. They are
expected to prepare papers on some natural-history subject, while
all the members are prepared with specimens. Any information
they may possess connected with the specimen" presented is gladly
listened to. :
We now propose taking up entomology and, perhaps, 6ther special
subjects, which seems to be a better way of gaining information than
the promiscuous manner we have been trying.
During.the.summer we have field meetings which are particularly
This summer a party of fourteen, including members and friends
of the Association, spent a week at Sag Harbor, where they not
only obtained specimens, but had a very pleasant evening with the
Agassiz Chapter of that place.- E. Partridge, Sec.
812, Davenfort, Iowa (C). This Chapter has progressed very
much during the last six months, and hlas.nade many useful improve-
ments. We. have a good attendance-at our weekly meetings, and
have a good, energetic membership. We have adopted a new con-
stitution; we have two specimen cases and, a great many valuable
-specimens; we have elected honorary members, and have estab-
lished a new order of business. The average attendance during the
past six months is fourteen.- Harold Benefiel, Cor. Sec.
8r8, Newark, N. J. (D). If we are as successful during the
coming year as we have been for the last two, we can be thankful.
We have ten members. We have a very good cabinet Oirhthe 14th
of Marchwe held a celebration of the anniversary of our organiza-
tion. We hired a'hall, and carted-ourspeciniens down, arid arranged
them on tables around the room. About fifty persons were present,
among them delegates from Roseville, and the Mayor of Newark.
The Mayor made a neat little speech, in which he. said he had read
in ST. NICHOroAs of the growth of the A. A. with the greatest:pleas-
ure. He spoke of our specimens, and said he could remember when
blue-birds flew about our streets as plentiful as the common English
sparrow. We have begun our labors afresh, and hope that during
the coming winter we shall leari more in regard to natural history.-
H. Young, Jr., Sec.
8ig, Hinsdale, '.7 \V. hr.e F.Ild a large cabinet. We are
keepmg the rules i .-.roir tr'.a are 3)i o.r *4. A. Handbook," and
find them very useful. One more member has been'admitted. *We
have started a library, and ha-ve some valuable'volumes ii it- Fred.
A. Menge, Sec.- : :
820, Boston, Mass. (.'7 The may--.rr of u arie viorking boys;
consequently our time f. r lielld .ork ii limited i- ar. occasionalholi-
day and the half Saturdays during the sitminer. -But the little timd
we have is not wasted; it is too valuable fr'that. The business at
our meetings consists chiefly in comparing notes and observations,
and occasionally the reading of an essay. We'areidow much inter-
ested in the Boston A ::en,i1. si. .' arcr.rl,;, hard to rake it a
success.-Thomas H. Fai. 1s:.: e N Croue ineci, BoRtoa.
824, Fall River, d:i';. .-li r :.ceCal department i- crni.
thology, and we are e.ji i* .-i. I ir. th.i. and gair-.sg knowledge.
We should like to cor-p-id ,til ary ilter:t-id in o-1n-nbo1Klo -
J. B. Richards, Sec.
841, Montclair, N. J. (A). We hope tobeable togetaclub-room
in a few months. Our chief study is entomology, but we also collect
and study specimens of all the other branches. Correspondence
with other Chapters is desired.-W. Hollis, Sec., Box 77-
842, Elizabeth, N. J. (B). Our Chapter is getting along very
nicely. We have now eight members and hope to interest others.
We have not tfiany minerals yet but' I 'hpe 'we'shallhave a much
fuller cabinet when the butterflies and flowers come again.-Ellen
R.Jones, Sec.
847,. Washington, Ind. (A). We have admitted orie new mem-
ber, John Kimball, and others are clamoring for admission. We
have worked for four years to get our' chapter into good running
order. Once we thought we had -succeeded, when, as you know,
we had n't But in all this time, we have studied and worked out
solutions, we think, to some of the problems involved in the question,
How to carry on a Chapter in a live manner I The future will
tell.-Ben. W. Clawson, Sec.
849, Boston, Mass. (H'): When Dr. Lincoln became interested
-in our Chapter; and finally joined, it took on a new aspect. The
teachers became interested, and all but one joined as honorary
members. We study mineralogy entirely, ard Dr. Lincoln is very
liberal, giving uis specimens at almost every meeting.- Sara E.
Sauriders, Sec.
850, Bangor, Me. (A). At present I am the only member of our
Chapter, but I am working hard for a reorganization, which I hope to
effect soon. At any rate, I shall keep the number and name of the
Chapter as long a. I remain in the city.- Albert G. Davis, Sec.
863, Prov., R. I. (E). A few days ago our President shot a
red-headed woodpecker, which we added to our collection of skins.
We have had several field meetings, and some pleasant meetings
at our room. We are about to fit up another room for winter use.


We are all earnest workers, and hope soon to have a collection worth
speaking about.- Frederic Gorham, Sec., r03 Knight street.
874, Lee, Mass. (A). We have over twenty members, most of
whom are active. We hold meetings every other Friday. We have
a collection of insects, minerals, and a few of theflora of the vicin-
ity, making, in all, about three hundred specimens. Each of our
members has a private collection, and some of them are quite suc-
cessful. Our average attendance is about fifteen.. We have made
several excursions, such as to Monument Mountain. We are now
planning to drive down to see Mr. Daniel Clarke's collection of min-
erals and coins, said to be the.finest in Berkshire County. We keep
our collection in the grammar school room in a cabinet made and
presented to us by one of our members. Some of our specimens
are quite valuable.-Eddie C. Bradley, Sec.
878, Woodbridge, N. (A). Our workduring thepastyearhas
been quite satisfactory. We spent the winter in studying zoology
together, beginning at the lower forms, and proceeding to the higher.
Some well-written papers were read.
On May 28, we gave an entertainment in the public hall for the
purpose of raising funds for the purchase of a microscope. We suc-
ceeded, and, for sixty-five dollars, secured a fine instrument. Our
Chapter numbers twenty-seven members and is growing.-R. Anna
Miller, Sec.
885, Blanclester, O. (A). With limited resources and facilities for
working in the field of Nature, our zeal is nevertheless undiminished,
and our first year closes not altogether discouragingly, with brighter
prospects for the future.
Being a family Chapter, our meetings have not been regular. We
have a botanist, ornithologist, and mineralogist in our Chapter.
It has been our custom to have, at each meeting, a paper read
(prepared by one of the, members), giving a short sketch of some
great naturalist or scientist. We intend taking up the study of the
plants and birds of our own neighborhood the coming year.-Homer
G. Curies, Sec.
887, Ginnell, Iowa (A). The past six months havebeen.very
prosperous. Wehaveadded fivemembers to our list, and outof seven-
teen members, our average attendance has. been fifteen. We have
a good.collection. Our library is steadily growing. Our Chapter
edits a monthly paper called the Agassiz Notes to which every mem-
ber contributes. Our special study is mineralogy, in which we have
instruction once a month. The migration of spiders has been dili-
gently studied. One member has been reporting to the Forestry
Department of the United States Government, one working in bot-
any for the American Ornithologists' Union, and all have been study-
ing bird migration for that'society. Three of our members took
extensive trips North this summer and made some good observations.
One member received a diploma for having satisfactorily completed
Professor Crosby's course in mineralogy. Six of us attended the
general convention at Davenport, and were highly delighted at the
work of our sisterChaptes.-Cor. Sec. Grinnell Ch., 887. Box 53.
893, Watertown, N. -Y. (B). Since our Chapter last reported, we
have had many interesting meetings. In the spring we postponed
the study of the animal kingdom, which' we had nearly completed,
and took up the study of vegetable life as more suited to the season
and to our abilities as collectors. Using Bessey and Gray as author-
ity, we studied the subject topically, at the same time bringing into
the class. whatever specimens we could for illustration. -Several of
the class have started herbaria and are much interested.in the work
of collecting, pressing, and mounting. An herbarium has also been
bought for the society:and.it will be filled with specimens donated
by all the members of the Chapter. The study of zoology has now
been resumed, and when it is completed, mineralogy and geology
will be taken.up for the winter.
Some.of the younger members have dropped out.of the Chapter,
so that our number has been reduced, but not. our zeal or interest in
the Society, of which we more and more appreciate the value.
Our report is brief, for as the study of Nature.opens ever wider
vistas before us, we feel the slightness of our best achievements, and
would rather record our. hopes.and purposes. than what has been
When we have finished a preliniinary study of the three kingdoms,
we intend each to adopt and report on a specialty, and may be able
in that way to produce results valuable, at least, to ourselves.
Wishing the A. A. continually growing power and usefulness, we
remain, very respectfully, Watertown Chap. B.-C. DuBois, Sec.
896, Lake Forest, Il. (A). We began with four.members a year
ago, and increased the number to six during the winter. We held
regular meetings, two weeks, and later, three weeks apart, at which
reports were made of work.done, papers read, etc. .
Our proceedings were conducted in French, as two of our mem-
bers were French, and we subscribed for a French.periodioal, "La
Science Pour Tous." Among the subjects of our papers were
"Bees," "Ants," Spiders,". "The Cactus," "Mushrooms,"
"Mosses," Witch-hazel," and "An Eruption of Vesuvius," this
last by one who had been an eye-witness'of the eruption. Several
df the members were studying during the winter Morse's Zoilogy,
which they found very interesting.
We succeeded in collecting and mounting from seventy to ninety

insects, and in filling an herbarium. We made a collection o*klaves
also, which we varnished and pressed.
Our Chapter is now adjourned sine die. Three of the members
are together abroad, one is dead, and the remaining two are in this
country, but not together, so that no joint work can- be done.- A
recent letter from one of the traveling members, dated from the
Valley of Canterets, reports a collection of fifty insects from that
region, and the butterfly-net in constant requisition.
Wishinglonglife to the Association, we remain, yours truly, Lake
Forest Chapter, M. W. Plummer, Sec.
898, Southeort, Conn. (A). Our Chapter is now about fourteen
months old. We number at present ten members, and have a cabi-
net containing nearly two hundred interesting specimens. The
cabinet itself is a small one and we are now trying to obtain a new
and larger one. We are also starting a library. Among the speci-
mens are: a clover book containing one, two, three, four, five, and
six leaved clovers; a specimen of gold from Australia; tourmaline,
jasper, and asbestos from Southport, and granite from Mount
Agassiz. "
There is a paper, published twice month, and called the Agassiz
Naturalist. We hold our meetings every 'month in one of the
schoolrooms, where we have our cabinet and charter.
Every week a subject is given out, and the members write or read
articles relating to it. The list includes such subjects as crows, coral,
gold, sponge, clovers, etc.
I think the Chapter is doing better now than at any time since its
founding.-Warren G. Waterman, Pres. and Sec.


Minerals and Indian relics, for same. Please send list and receive
ours in exchange.- C. S. Casebolt, Sec. 803, Wyandotte, Kansas.
Fossils, plants, land and fresh-water shells, for same. Correspond-
ence desired.-Kemper Bennett, Cor. Sec., Chapter 834,Wyandotte,
Kansas, (B).
Crinoid stems of Indiana, free to any member of the A. A. Geo-
logical reports of Indiana to exchange for specimens.-Ch. S. Beach
ler, Crawfordsville, Ind.
Minerals and a large collection of stamps, for botanical specimens.
R. D. Pope, 177 Congress street, Brooklyn, N. Y.
Specimens of lepidoptera of N. Y. and N. J., for diversified
exchange in same line.-Camsar Leonhard, Carlstadt, Bergen Co.,
N. J.
Lepidostera and a few coleoptera, for lepidoptern only. Send
-list.-Albert F. Winn, x602 Catherine street, Montreal, P. Q.
We should be glad to exchange fossils, of which we have a large
.variety, for classified minerals, such as rock crystal, rose quartz,
-amethyst, chalcedony, jasper, opal, or would exchange for books and
fossil fishes.- Mrs. F; L. Brown, Shortsville, N. Y.
Correspondence desired with members having well preserved
insects to'exchange. Also minerals.- Frederick C. Barber; 449
W. 23d street, New York City.


No. Name. No. of- Members. Address.
8x Oxford, N. Y. (A).......... 4..Fred. Bartle.
984 Sycamore, Ill. (B) ....:..... 2.. Arthur Buell, Lock Box 123.
399. New York, N. Y. (I)...... 7..Mr. Thomas B. Swift,
1440 Lex. Av.
4i2- Montreal, P. Q. (B) .... .... 4..G. M. Edwards,
-Cote St. Antoine.
44 Chicago, (B)............... xo..Robert J. Kerr, 3o Bryan PI.
43 DeKalb, Ill. (A)............ 2..Jay Lott Warren.
"77 Wellsville, Pa. (A)......... 12.:.A. Dinsmore Belt.
54 Greensbury, N. Y. (A) ...... 13..Thos. C. Edwards,
842 Elizabeth, N. J. (B)... ..... 7...Ellen R. Jones,
S 53, Madison Av.
70 Philadelphia, (J)...:........ 7..S. T. Harkness,
3409 Wallace St., W. Phila.
116 New York, N. Y. (D)....... 6..Franci: i T...:.ir W. 2o.
426 La Porte, Ind. (B)......... 6..Percy L C.:le. t., 120o3.
39 San Francisco, (A)........ 8..Willie Eckart,
2906 California St
80 Mechanicsburg, 0. (A)...... 20..Miss Alta R. Williams.
151 Brooklyn, N. Y. (C)........ 9..G. H. Backus,
38 Grace Court.
885 Blanchester, O. (A)......... 7..Homer G. Curies.
606 Crawfordsville, Ind........... 4..Charles Beachler.
719 Phila. (A').................. ..Joined Phila. (A), No. 8.
Secretaries of the first Century, (i. e., Chapters i-ooe) will please
send in their annual reports by January i.
All are cordially invited to join the Association. Address all
communications to HARLAN H. BALLARD,
Pittsfield, Mass.



l887.] THE RIDDLE-BOX. 239



EASY PICTORIAL PUZZLE. Shakspere. I. All's Well that Ends
Well. 2. Twelfth Night; 3. Cymbeline. 4. Measure for Measure.
5. Winter's Tale. 6. King Lear. 7. The Tempest. 8. Hamlet
9. Much Ado About Nothing.
BEHEADINGS. Cohasset. I. C-ream. 2. O-live. 3. H-aunt.
4. A-lone. 5. S-lave. 6. S-hoot. 7. E-vent. 8. T-rail.
Pt. Hurrah for Father Christmas !
Ring all the merry bells,
And bring the grandsires all around
To hear the tale he tells. ROSE TERRY COOKE.
WORD-SQUARES. I. I. Color. 2. Olive. 3. Linen. 4. Overt.
5. Rents. II. 1. Pagan. 2. Alive. 3. Gibes. 4. Avert. 5. Nests.
III. i. Aware. 2. Wafer. 3. After. 4. Reeve. 5. Erred.
A BIRD-CAGE. Centrals, Partridge. Cross-words. x. P. 2. jAy.
3. heRon. 4. kesTrel. 5. redgRouse. 6. pelIcan. 7. nodDies.
8. penGuin. 9. promErops.
REBUS. An overgrown, underbred, and overbearing boy in over-
alls undertook to investigate an overcoat, when an overworked
but intent overseer happened to overlook his undertaking; and I
understand that he was overpowered in the onset and underwent a
strict inspection. The overseer did awe inspire, and the boy was
overwhelmed between shame, and, fear, expecting to incur a few
stripes, at least; but he was soon overjoyed to depart under promise
of reform.

STAR PUZZLE. From I to 2, shingle; r to 3, spangle; 2 to 3,
eroteme; 4 to 5, brigand; 4 to 6, bugloss; 5 to 6, digress.
CROWDED DIAMONDS. Left-hand Diamond: r. M. 2. Cap.
3. Caret. 4. Maracan. 5. Pecan. 6. Tan. 7. N. Right-hand
Diamond: I. C. 2. Tan. 3. Tuned. 4. Canteen. 5. Needy.
6. Dey. 7. N.
DOUBLE-ACROSTIC. I. Primals, warder; finals, dearth. Cross-
words: I. Wild. 2. Axle. 3. Rosa. 4. Doer. 5. Emit. 6. Rash.
II. Primals, thread; finals, drawer. Cross-words: r. Tend.
2. Hoar. 3. Roca. 4. Enow. 5. Ache. 6. Deer. III. Primals,
reward; finals, hatred. Cross-words: r. Rush. 2. Etna 3. Wilt.
4. Aver. 5. Raze. 6. Deed.
PYRAMID. Across: I. G. 2. Pas. 3. Corks. 4. Hornito. 5. Bar-
tering. 6. Timbertrees. DOWNWARD: I. T. 2. Bi. 3. Ham. 4.
Corb. 5. Porte. 6. Garner. 7. Skirt. 8. Stir. 9. One. io. Ge. xi. S.
TRIPLE-ACROSTIC. I. Magic-lantern. Cross-words: i. Moot-
court. 2. Available. 3. Gormander. 4. Intention. II. Whitten-
trees. Cross-words: I. Wealthier. 2. Housewife. 3. Incensive.
4. Taintless.
Be meiry all, be merry all,
With holly dress the festive hall;
Prepare the song, the feast, the ball,
To welcome merry Christmas.

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, Letter-Box," care of THE CENTURY CO.,
33 East Seventeenth St., New York City.
ANSWERS TO ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE OCTOBER NUMBER were received, before October 20, from Paul Reese- Maud E. Palmer-
"Tiny Puss, Mitz, and Muff"- F. W. Islip -Nellie and Reggie--" Shumway Hen and Chickens "-" Two Cousins"-" Topsy"-
Katharine R. Wingate--Allison V. Robinson- C. Marion Edwards--"Judy and Elsy."
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE OCTOBER NUMBER were received, before October 20, from La Belle R., r--Pug, r--V. Lippin-
cott, i -Don, i "Donna Occidenta," 2- Helen, M. L. .B., x -W. Charles, i -Effie K. Talboys, 7- Irene, 4--"Professor
& Co.," 8--"Ben Zeene," 2-Sadie Hecht, i-"Sally Lunn," and "Johnny Cake," 7-Grace Seymour, 2-Birdie Koehler, 7-
Grace E. Silsbee, i -Jo and I, 8 -Ida and Edith Swanwick, 4- Mary P. Farr, 3- Chester, I--C. S. S. and A. M. V., 7- "Tagh-
conic," 3 -" Ono," 2-L. M. B., 7-Arthur and Bertie Knox, 8-Jet, 5-M. G. F.-and M. L.- G., 7-' Original Puzzle Club," 5-
Lizzie A. R., 4 Tommie and Katie, 6 George M. Brown, 3 L. A. R., 7-Eugene Kell, i -"Poodle," 4.

EACH of the six small pictures may be described by a word of three
letters. When these have been rightly guessed, and arranged one
below another, in the order in which they are numbered, the central
letters will spelt the name of the animal shown in the central picture.

a. A person of wild behavior. 2. To punish by a pecuniary pen-
alty. 3. A stratagem. 4. A very fine, hair-like feather. 5. To
agree. 6. Removed the outer covering. "IRONSIDES."

i. To within add to disembark and make remote from the sea.
2. To an exclamation of triumph add to eat and make a substance
obtained from the ashes of sea-weeds. 3. To a mixed mass of type
add to estimate and make a sea-robber. 4. To half an em add a

band of iron, and make complete. 5. To a Latin word meaning a
bone, add to collect spoil and make a long-winged eagle. 6. To
the eleventh month of the Jewish civil year add Turkish governors,
and make monasteries. 7. To a conjunction add a confederate and
make in words, without writing. 8. To a preposition add to try and
make to bear witness to. F. L. F.

EXAMPLE: What number becomes even by subtracting one?
Answer,. S-even.
I. What number becomes heavy by adding one ? 2. What num-
ber belongs to us by subtracting one? 3. What number increases
ten-fold by adding one ? 4. What number is elevated by adding
one? 5. What number is finished by adding one? 6. What num-
ber becomes frequent by adding two ? 7. What number becomes
animal by adding two? M. A. H.




DOUBLE-LETTER ENIGMA. 1o-1i6-93-1oo is consumption. My 134-25-126-63-60-xI8-30 is
obliteration. My 31-72-29-56-0x7-62-o8-42 is wealthy. My
TAKE one letter from each of the quoted words and make the name 51-82-98-45-76-39 are themes. My 18-84-48-9-o16-50-117-123-35
oforname.-i.. -: J.--ii..Ir. .r.m -.,; friends on the festival which are concluding speeches. My ixo-4-1o2-5-55-Ir2-135-37 is relat-
comes on i i.--,,i r. r. Itl : ~n:. .t which the festival is called ing to tragic acting. My 67-24-65-o19-o13-41-57 is belonging to
may also 1.-: !*...J -d rli ., -t.': J *:,I d: this world. My 38-34-79-91-70 is a specter. My 86-121-52-130-92
is to meditate. My 66-96-22-77 is costly. My 88-69-133 is dis-
In the "settle" that old folks will charm; torted. My x32-28-61-4-43-83 is deserving. My 13-2-94-26-81 is
In the "willows." that grow on the farm; a piece of paper. .My 46-124-73-33-20o-29 is insignificant. My
In the "presents we had at New Year; 105-54-7-97-114 is to interlace. My i6-xg9-ix-49 is cut down.
In the "yule-log" so full of good cheer; F, s. F.
In the "buffalo on the broad plain;
In the mottoes we sigh for in vain; A PENTAGON.
In the "rush-light "- a thing of old days;
In the "candies' that all ofus.praise;
In the "pastimes" we 're so loth to leave;
In the '"stockings we hung Christmas Eve;
In the "hearthstone" so spacious and wide;
In the "homestead" where loved ones abide.

I AM composed of one hundred and thirty-six letters, and am a
stanza of eight short lines.
My I-40-8-Iro-36-75 is a tree having slender, pliant branches. AcRoss: i. In ST. NICHOLAS. 2. Conducted. 3. The second
My 53-12-78-23-68-74-115-58-136-90 is one who is sent to spread mechanical power. 4. Many. 5. To deduce. 6.' A bird. 7. To
religion. My 32-t7-71-122-3-1o4-27-85-o18 is a recital. My supply on condition of repayment.
125-2z-64-x20-6-131-99 is a shrub used.in Great Britaii for brooms. This reads the same up and down as across.
My 15-47-44-95-127-89-x13-59 is to intrude. My x28-87-19-111- "L. LOS REGNI."


THE'above one hundred sqilares contain the names of forty-five poets (both ancient and' modern), which maybe spelled out by what
is known in chess as the "king's move." This, as- all chess-players know, is one square at a time in any direction. The same square is
not to be used twice in any one name. In sending answers, indicate the squares by their numbers, thus: Shakspere, 75-86-97-87-
78-77-66,65-64. The names of forty-four other poets may be similarly spelled. R. P. M.
A separate list of solvers of this. puzzle will be printed. The names of those sending the longest lists will head the roll. Answers will
be received until January 28.

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