Front Cover
 A great show
 The butterfly's cousins
 Two little confederates
 Cat's cradle
 Caterina and her fate
 The bobolink's song
 A Mexican dog's soliloquy
 "The men who died"
 Tom and Maggie Tulliver
 The rabbit hunters
 A namesake
 Two little roses
 Drill: A story of school-boy...
 Louisa May Alcott
 Housekeeping songs. No. IV (words...
 In the swing
 The interrupted little boy
 A kind-hearted puss
 For very little folk
 The game of grommet-pitching
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover

Title: St. Nicholas
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00200
 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: VID00200
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
    A great show
        Page 563
        Page 564
        Page 565
        Page 566
        Page 567
        Page 568
        Page 569
    The butterfly's cousins
        Page 570
    Two little confederates
        Page 571
        Page 572
        Page 573
        Page 574
        Page 575
        Page 576
        Page 577
        Page 578
        Page 579
        Page 580
        Page 581
    Cat's cradle
        Page 582
        Page 583
        Page 584
        Page 585
        Page 586
        Page 587
        Page 588
    Caterina and her fate
        Page 589
        Page 590
        Page 591
        Page 592
        Page 593
        Page 594
    The bobolink's song
        Page 595 (MULTIPLE)
        Page 596
        Page 597
        Page 598
        Page 599
    A Mexican dog's soliloquy
        Page 600
    "The men who died"
        Page 601
        Page 602
        Page 603
    Tom and Maggie Tulliver
        Page 604
        Page 605
        Page 606
        Page 607
        Page 608
        Page 609
        Page 610
        Page 611
        Page 612
        Page 613
    The rabbit hunters
        Page 614 (MULTIPLE)
    A namesake
        Page 615
        Page 616
    Two little roses
        Page 617
    Drill: A story of school-boy life
        Page 618
        Page 619
        Page 620
        Page 621
        Page 622
        Page 623
    Louisa May Alcott
        Page 624
        Page 625
        Page 626
    Housekeeping songs. No. IV (words and music)
        Page 627
    In the swing
        Page 628
    The interrupted little boy
        Page 629
    A kind-hearted puss
        Page 630
    For very little folk
        Page 631
        Page 632
        Page 633
    The game of grommet-pitching
        Page 634
        Page 635
    The letter-box
        Page 636
        Page 637
        Page 638
    The riddle-box
        Page 639
        Page 640
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text




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(SEE PAGE 568.)

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JUNE, 1888.

No. 8.



Hifponax of Colonus, in Rome, to his cousin and
fellow-townsman Callias,- Greeting:

I have been greatly at a loss, my dearest Cal-
lias, ever since I came to this city, to decide
whether I should rather admire or loathe these
Romans. It must be confessed that at this
moment, when I recall to my mind the things of
which I was yesterday a spectator, I incline rather
to hatred than love. How brutal they are! -
how cruel! -how they delight in unmeaning
show and extravagance! With what a thirst for
blood are they possessed, keener than that of the
most savage wild beasts,- keener, I say, for beasts
are content when their hunger is appeased, but the
appetite of these barbarians (for barbarians they
are, notwithstanding all their wealth and luxury)

can never be satisfied. Yet, when I see with what
unwearying diligence, with what infinite labor,
they prepare even their pleasures, I am beyond
measure astonished. For yesterday's entertain-
ment, they had ransacked the whole earth; nor
could a spectator, however hostile, forget that
though they are vulgar in taste and savage in
temper, they have conquered the world. But let
me relate to you in order the things which I saw.
Trajan the Emperor,-who, by the way, both
in his virtues and vices, is a Roman of the Romans,
-having added seven new provinces to the Em-
pire, resolved to exhibit to the people such a show
as never before had been seen in Rome; and it
is confessed by all that he has attained his ambi-
tion. The day before yesterday, my host, whose
office imposes upon him part of the care of these

Copyright, 1888, by THE CENTURY Co. All rights reserved.



matters, took me to the public supper at which the
gladiators who were to fight on the morrow took
leave of their friends and kinsfolk. The tables


were spread in the circus itself; and there were
present, I should suppose, not less than two hun-
dred guests (so many gladiators being about to
fight on the morrow), for whom most bountiful
provision of the richest food and most generous
wines had been made. They were of all nations;
but chiefly, as I was told, from Gaul and Thrace.
From Greece, it rejoices me to say, there were but
very few, and most of these Arcadians who, now
that the Romans have established peace over all
the world, are compelled to hire out their swords,
not for honorable warfare, but for these baser
Most of the guests were, I thought, intent
only on indulging in as much pleasure as the time

permitted, and ate and drank ravenously. Some
of them loudly boasted of what they would do on
the morrow, and were heard by their admirers,
among whom were some of the noblest youths in
Rome, with no less reverence than is a philosopher
by his disciples. Others were more modest and
more silent; and these, I noticed, were also more
sparing of the wine-cup, which moderation would
doubtless receive the reward of a clearer sight and
steadier hand for the arena. There were not want-
ing sights which touched the heart. One such I
observed in particular, because my host was con-
cerned in it. I should say first, that some of these

A "NET-MAN." (SEE PAGE 568.)
gladiators, though they themselves are slaves, yet
have slaves of their own who receive by no means
inconsiderable gifts when their masters are victori-
ous; and not seldom, also, some share of the wages



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which the gladiators win through their prowess. As
we were walking among the tables, a certain Pleusi-
cles, who was known to my host, plucked his gown
and begged him to stay awhile. This Pleusicles was
a gladiator of nearly ten years' standing, and would
be entitled to his discharge (usually conferred by
the presentation of a wooden sword) if only he
should safely pass through the dangers of the
morrow. By his side stood a man of about sixty
.years, a Syrian, as I should judge, who was weep-
.ing without restraint.
Most noble Pontius," said the Greek, "will
you condescend to be the witness while I set this
man free ? "
At these words the Syrian broke forth into tears
more vehemently than ever. "I will not suffer
it," he cried; "'t is of very worst omen that a
gladiator should do such a thing. As well might
you order the pinewood, the oil, and the spices for
your funeral."
"Be silent," said the other, with a certain
kindly imperiousness. Shall I not do as I will
with mine own ? If to-morrow should- "
At this the old man clapped his hand upon
the speaker's mouth, crying, "Good words I Good
words I "
"Well," said Pleusicles, "should anything hap-
pen to me to-morrow, how will you fare, being still
a slave ? Say, if I had not bought you three years
since, when your old master bf the cook-shop sold
you as quite worn out, would not you have starved ?
'T is not every one, my masters," he went on,
turning to us, that knows this Dromio. He is
the most faithful and the bravest of men-and
makes withal the most incomparable sausage-
rolls! Nay, Dromio, you shall be free whether
you will or no. If all goes well, you shall not
leave me; if otherwise, there is a legacy of fifty
thousand sestertii [about $2000] with which you
can set up a cook-shop of your own."
Pleusicles had his way, and, I am glad to say,
escaped on the morrow unhurt.
A little further on I saw a parting which also
moved me not a little. A young freedwoman was
clinging with her arms around the neck of a most
stalwart champion. They were a singular pair;
she, more than commonly fair and of a delicate
beauty; he, a Libyan, from the other side of the
Atlas, and blacker than I had conceived it possi-
ble for any man to be. I wondered somewhat at
her choice, for in his face, which was as flat as a
bee's, there was little enough of the Apollo; but
his stature (which was at least four cubits) and
his broad shoulders and sinewy arms were truly
heroic, and therefore I could excuse her admira-
tion. Close by stood a little nurse-girl, carrying
a child in whom were most admirably mingled the

hues of night and morning; nor am I ashamed
to confess that there were tears in my eyes when
the black Hector took this little whitey-brown
Astyanax in those mighty arms and tenderly
kissed him. I do not know how it went with the
father in the combat.
But I must hasten on to the show itself.
I will not deny that the first part filled me with
unmixed delight and admiration; for the place,
with the concourse of spectators, formed a most
noble sight. There were gathered together more
thousands of men than I had ever seen before,
each robed in a spotless white gown and wearing
a garland on his head. Among them sat many
women, habited with much variety of color. I
myself sat with my host, his wife and daughter,
in one of the front rows; and from there the sight
was one of uncommon splendor. The purple
and red awning, too, which was stretched over our
heads, with the sun partly shining through it,
gave a most brilliant effect. And then, the spec-
tacle first exhibited was of incomparable rarity.
Such curious and beautiful creatures were brought
before our eyes as I had scarce known even in my
reading. And, as if their natural beauty were not
enough, art had been called in to increase their
attraction. There were ostriches 't is a bird, if
you will believe me, of full six cubits in height -
dyed with vermilion; and lions whose manes had
been gilded, and antelopes and gazelles, which
were curiously adorned with light-colored scarfs
and gold tinsel. I should weary you were I to
enumerate the strange creatures which I saw.
Besides the more common kinds, there were river-
horses ('t is a clumsy beast, and as little like to a
horse as can be conceived, except, they say, as to
the head when the upper half is protruded from
the water), and rhinoceroses, and zebras (beasts
curiously striped and not unlike to a very strong
and swift ass); and, above all, elephants. Though
I liked not the artificial adorning of some of these
creatures--which, indeed, I thought proof of a
certain vulgarity in these Romans -I could not
but admire the skill with which all these animals
had been taught to keep in subjection their natural
tempers and to imitate the ways of men. This
was especially manifest in the elephants. One of
these huge beasts, balancing himself most care-
fully, walked on a rope tightly drawn. Other
four, on the same most difficult path, carried be-
tween them a litter in which was a fifth, who
represented a sick person. And even more won-
derful than these were the lions and other beasts
of a similar kind. It has always been a favorite
marvel of the poets, how Bacchus was drawn in a
chariot by leopards which he had trained to be as
docile as horses. But here I saw Bacchus out-



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done. Lions and tigers, panthers and bears,
appeared patiently drawing carriages; lions being
yoked to tigers, and panthers with bears. Wild
bulls permitted boys and girls to dance upon
their backs, and actually, at the word of com-
mand, stood up on their hind feet. Still more
wonderful again than this was the spectacle of
lions hunting hares, catching them, and carrying
the prey in their mouths, unhurt, to their masters.
The Emperor summoned the lion-tamer who had
trained the beasts in this wonderful fashion, and
praised him highly for his skill. The man an-
swered with as pretty a compliment as ever I
heard. "It is no skill of mine, my lord," says
he; "the beasts are gentle because they know
whom they serve."
But, in good truth, there was little more of
gentleness to be seen after this. The Romans
have an unquenchable thirst for fighting. These
curious shows of rare creatures and rare accom-
plishments (I had forgotten to say that there was
an elephant that wrote the Emperor's name on the
sand) soon gave place to the serious business of
the day. But previously, to whet the appetite of
the spectators for that which was to follow, came
various spectacles of beasts fighting against one
another. First, a Molossian dog (famous, as you
know, for strength and courage) was set on a bull.
Then a lion was matched with a tiger, but most
unequally; for the lion, being inferior in strength
and courage, was speedily killed. Then came a
combat of a bull with a rhinoceros. With what
fury did the people roar (not liking to be balked
of their sport), when the great beast declined the
combat, and willingly would have retreated from
the bull into its den. It had manifestly no liking
for the fight, and could scarcely be urged into it
by the keeper, though the man put hot iron to its
hide (which, indeed, is marvelously thick), and
blew into its ear with a trumpet. The bull, though
savage enough of his own accord, also was urged
on with fluttering pennons of red. So, at last,
they got the two to engage; and then the rhinoc-
eros, tossing up his head, sent the bull flying into
the air, as if it had been no more than a truss of
straw. When the bull came to the ground, he
was absolutely dead, his enemy's horn having
pierced a vital part.
These were but a few of many combats. Then
came as many nay, twice as many-fights be-
tween men and beasts. I am told that men some-
times are sent unarmed into the arena, having
been doomed for some great crime to die in this
way. Four men devoted to some strange supersti-
tion, which is called after one "Christus," perished
in this way last year. But to-day all were armed;
and, indeed, they acquitted themselves with mar-

velous skill and success. I noticed especially one
man, a famous performer, who was matched against
a lion; he had no protection but a cloth in his hand
and small dagger that seemed made rather forshow
than for use. With most wonderful adroitness he
threw the cloth over the lion's eyes, completely
blindfolding them; and then, when the beast was
struggling with the incumbrance, fastened a rope to
a leather belt that was round the creature's belly
(most of the larger animals were so harnessedfor con-
venience in managing them). With this rope thelion
was finally dragged back into his den, the man retir-
ing amidst shouts that could have been no louder had
he saved the city from destruction. On the whole,
there was little damage done, though some were
wounded, and my heart, it must be owned, beat
fast more than once at seeing in what peril the
combatants stood. I thought, also, that those who
managed the spectacle were chary of the lives of
the rarer and more precious beasts, much to the
vexation of the commoner sort of people, who look
upon the bodies of all animals killed at such times
as perquisites of their own.
These combats being finished, the bodies of
the slain animals dragged away, and fresh sand
strewn over the whole place, there fell upon the
entire assembly the silence of great expectation.
Some, who had been sleeping, awoke; others, who
had been talking with their neighbors, were silent;
for now was to come the sight which goes to the
inmost heart of these savages: men fighting with
It is not to be denied that it was a splendid
sight when a hundred of the gladiators, who were
to play the "first act," so to speak (they were
a mere fraction of all the performers to be ex-
hibited), came marching in, two by two. They
were armed mostly as soldiers, but with more of
ornament and with greater splendor. Their hel-
mets were of various shapes, but each had a broad
brim and a visor consisting of four plates, the
upper two being pierced to allow the wearer to see
through them. On the top also there was what
one might liken to the comb of a cock; and
fastened to this, a plume of horse-hair dyed crim-
son, or of crimson feathers. Some were called
Samnites" (the name of an Italian tribe that
once nearly brought Rome to her knees). These
carried a short sword and large oblong shield.
Others were armed as Thracians, or as Greeks.
Others, again, were distinguished by the symbol
of a fish upon their helmets. But the most curious
of all were those called "net-men," who were
equipped with a net in which to entangle an
antagonist; having so disabled him, the net-man
stabs him with a three-pronged harpoon. These
have no helmets, and are equipped as lightly as

possible, for if they miss their cast they have no Indeed, had I continued to look, undoubtedly I
hope of safety but in their fleetness of foot. should have fainted. But I could not but observe
You will not think the worse of me, my dear that the young Fausta, my host's daughter, a

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Callias, if I acknowledge that I can not describe maiden of about seventeen, had no such qualms,
this part of the spectacle. The truth is that after for she gazed steadfastly into the arena the whole
a certain dreadful fascination, which held me while time, and her face (for I looked at her more than
the first strokes were given, I turned away my eyes. once) was flushed, and her eyes sparkled with a
,4 _- ,, '""' "

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a.certa in eal w h me w i b f c (o ,' l o

thef irst trog _d a, o a a




most inhuman light. Till yesterday I had thought
her the fairest maiden I had seen; but now the
very girdle of Aphrodite could not make her beauti-
ful in my eyes. Can you believe, my Callias, that
this young girl, who a week ago was weeping in-
consolably over a dead sparrow, cried aloud, "He
has it!" when some poor wretch received the de-
cisive blow;-aye, and when, not being wounded
mortally, he appealed for mercy, that she made
the sign of death?-which they do by pointing
with the hand as if in the act to strike. Verily,
they have the wolf's blood in their veins, these
Romans, both men and women !
But what will you say when I relate to you my last
experiences? Hearing my neighbor say that the
spectacle was over for the day, I ventured to look
up; and what, think you, did I see? Some sixty
bodies lay on the sand, and there came out the
figure of one dressed as Charon, the ferryman of

Styx, who examined the prostrate forms to try
whether there was life in them. Finding that none
were alive, he returned to the place whence he
came, and there followed him presently another
person, this one habited as Hermes, bearing in his
hand the rod wherewith the messenger of the gods
is said to marshal the spirits of the dead when they
go down to the shades. At his bidding some at-
tendants removed the poor victims. This done,
fresh sand was strewn over such places as showed
signs of conflict, and thus was finished the first day
of the great show, wherewith Trajan is to please
the gods and the Roman people.
It will be continued for many days; how many
I neither know nor care, for I go not again. Next
year I hope to see among the planes and olives of
Olympia the bloodless sports which please a kind-
lier, gentler race of gods and men.


THE butterfly quoth to the rest-harrow flowers:
"Cousins, good day !
"I paused on my way,
"To make ye acquaint with the kinship that's

The rest-harrow flowers
Flew off in pink showers.

*See note in Letter-box," page 636.

" If that, sir," quoth they
" Be true, as you say,
" Pray, why do we fly
" But once, ere we die?
" And then only, moreo'er,
" When we 're bidden to soar?
" We are powerless, quite
" Till a wind gives us flight "




Said the butterfly: "Nay,
I know not -Good day.
"But, still, ye 're my cousins; ye rest-harrow
I do not dissemble,

Look, now we resemble,
When thus ye do tremble "
And the rest-harrow flowers still flutter and
And strive to be butterflies, unto this day !




S the man in the hen-house
groaned horribly, Willy, re-
S "oE lenting, was about to look
in, when he saw Uncle Balla
coming with a flaming light-
S wood knot in his hand.
Instead of opening the
door, therefore, he called to
the old man, who was leisurely crossing the yard:
Run, Uncle Balla. Quick, run "
At the call, Old Balla and Frank set out as fast
as they could.
What's the matter ? Is he done kill de chick-
ens ? Is he done got away ?" the old man asked
No, he 's dyin'," shouted Willy.
"Hi! is you shoot him?" asked the old

"No, that other man's poisoned him. He was
the robber and he fooled this one," explained
Willy, opening the door, and peeping anxiously in.
Go 'long, boy,-now, d' ye ever heah de bet-
ter o' dat ?- dat man 's foolin' wid you; jes' trying'
to git yo' to let him out."
"No, he is n't," said Willy; "you ought to 'a'
heard him."
But both Balla and Frank were laughing at
him, so he felt very shamefaced. He was relieved
by hearing another groan.
"Oh, oh, oh! Ah, ah!"
"You hear that? he asked, triumphantly.
I boun' I '11 see what 's the matter with him,
the roscol! Stan' right dyah, y' all, an' if he try
to run shoot him, but mine you don' hit me," and
the old man walked up to the door, and standing
on one side flung it open. "What you doin' in
dyah after dese chillern's chickens?" he called



Hello, ole man, 's 'at you? I's mighty sick,"
muttered the person within. Old Balla held his
torch inside the house, amid a confused cackle and
flutter of fowls.
"Well, ef 't ain' a white man, and a soldier at
dat!" he exclaimed. "What you doin' heah, rob-
bin' white folks' hen-roos' ?" he called, roughly.
"Git up off dat groun'; you ain' sick."
"Let me get up, Sergeant,-hic -don't you
heah the roll-call? the tent's mighty dark; what
you fool me in here for?" muttered the man
The boys could see that he was stretched out on
the floor, apparently asleep, and that he was a
soldier in uniform.
Is he dead ?" asked both boys as Balla caught
him by the arm, lifted him, and let him fall again
limp on the floor.
Nor, he 's foolin'," said Balla, picking up an
empty flask. Come on out. Let me see what I
gwi' do wid you ?" he said, scratching his head.
"I know what I gwi' do wid you. I gwi' lock
you up right whar you is."
"Uncle Balla, s'pose he gets well, won't he get
"Ain' I gwi' lock him up? Dat's good from you,
who was jes gwi' let 'im out ef me an' Frank
had n't come up when we did."
Willy stepped back abashed. His heart accused
him and told him the charge was true. Still he
ventured one more question:
Had n' you better take the hens out?"
"Nor; 't ain' no use to teck nuttin' out dyah.
Ef he come to, he know we got 'im, an' he dyahson'
trouble nuttin."
And the old man pushed to the door and fast-
ened the iron hasp over the strong staple. Then,
as the lock had been broken, he took a large nail
from his pocket and fastened it in the staple with
a stout string so that it could not be shaken out.
All the time he was working he was talking to the
boys, or rather to himself, for their benefit.
Now, you see ef we don' find him heah in the
morning' Willy jes' gwi' let you git 'way, but a
man got you now, wh'ar' been handling' horses an'
know how to hole 'em in the stalls. I boun' he '11
have to butt like a ram to git out dis log hen-house,"
he said finally, as he finished tying the last knot
in his string, and gave the door a vigorous rattle
to test its strength.
Willy had been too much abashed at his mis-
take to fully appreciate all of the witticisms over
the prisoner, but Frank enjoyed them almost as
much as Unc' Balla himself.
"Now y' all go 'long to bed, an' I '11 go back
an' teck a little nap myself," said he, in parting.
"Ef he gits out that hen-house I '11 give you ev'y

chicken I got. But he ain' gwine git out. A man's
done fasten him up dyah."
The boys went off to bed, Willy still feeling
depressed over his ridiculous mistake. They were
soon fast asleep, and if the dogs barked again they
did not hear them.
The next thing they knew, Lucy Ann, convulsed
with laughter, was telling them a story about Uncle
Balla and the man in the hen-house. They jumped
up, and pulling on their clothes ran out to the'hen-
house, thinking to see the prisoner.
Instead of doing so, they found Uncle Balla
standing by the hen-house with a comical look of
mystification and chagrin; the roof had been lifted
off at one end and not only the prisoner, but every
chicken was gone!
The boys were half inclined to cry; Balla's look
set theri to laughing.
"Unc' Balla, you got to give me every chicken
you got, 'cause you said you would," said Willy.
"Go 'way from heah, boy. Don' pester me
when I studying' to see which way he got out."
"You ain' never had a horse get through the
roof before, have you ? said Frank.
Go 'way from here, I tell you," said the old
man, walking around the house, looking at it.
As the boys went back to wash and dress them-
selves, they heard Balla explaining to Lucy Ann
and some of the other servants that the man
them chillern let git away had just come back and
tooken out the one he had locked up "; ,a solution
of the mystery he always afterward stoutly insisted
One thing, however, the person's escape effected
- it prevented Willy's ever hearing any more of his
mistake; but that did not keep him now and then
from asking Uncle Balla "if he had fastened his
horses well."


THESE hens were not the last things stolen
from Oakland. Nearly all the men in the country
had gone with the army. Indeed, with the excep-
tion of a few overseers who remained to work the
farms, every man in the neighborhood, between
the ages of seventeen and fifty, was in the army.
The country was thus left almost wholly unpro-
tected, and it would have been entirely so but for
the Home Guard," as it was called, which was a
company composed of young boys and the few old
men who remained at home, and who had volun-
teered for service as a local guard, or police body,
for the neighborhood of their homes.
Occasionally, too, later on, a small detachment
of men, under a leader known as a conscript-



officer," would come through the country hunting
for any men who were subject to the conscript law
but who had evaded it, and for deserters who had
run away from the army and refused to return.
These two classes of troops, however, stood on
a very different footing. The Home Guard was
regarded with much respect, for it was composed
of those whose extreme age or youth alone with-
held them from active service; and every young-
ster in its ranks looked upon it as a training school,
and was ready to die in defence of his home if
need were, and7besides, expected to obtain per-
mission to go.ihto the army next year."
The conscript-guard, on the other hand, were
grown men, and were thought to be shirking the
very dangers and hardships into which they were
trying to force others.
A few miles from Oakland, on the side toward
the mountain road and beyond the big woods, lay
a district of virgin forest and old field-pines which,
even before the war, had acquired a reputation of
an unsavory nature, though its inhabitants were a
harmless people. No highways ran through this
region, and the only roads which entered it were
mere wood-ways, filled with bushes and carpeted
with pine-tags; and, being traveled only by the
inhabitants, appeared to outsiders to jes' peter
out," as the phrase went. This territory was known
by the unpromising name of Holetown.
Its denizens were a peculiar but kindly race known
to the boys as "poor white folks," and called by
the negroes, with great contempt, "po' white
trash." Some of them owned small places in the
pines ; but the majority were simply squatters."
They were an inoffensive people, and their worst
vices were intemperance and evasion of the tax-
They made their living-or rather, they ex-
isted-by fishing and hunting; and, to eke it out,
attempted the cultivation of little patches of corn
and tobacco near their cabins, or in the bottoms
where small branches ran into the stream already
In appearance they were usually so thin and
sallow that one had to look at them twice to see
them clearly. At best, they looked vague and
They were brave enough. At the outbreak of
the war nearly all of the men in this community
enlisted, thinking, as many others did, that war was
more like play than work, and consisted more of
resting than of laboring. Although most of them,
when in battle, showed the greatest fearlessness,
yet the duties of camp soon became irksome to
them, and they grew sick of the restraint and
drilling of camp-life; so some of them, when
refused a furlough, took it, and came home.


Others staid at home after leave had ended, feel-
ing secure in their stretches of pine and swamp,
not only from the feeble efforts of the conscript-
guard but from any parties who might be sent in
search of them.
In this way it happened, as time went by, that
Holetown became known to harbor a number of
According to the negroes, it was full of them;
and many stories were told about glimpses of men
dodging behind trees in the big woods, or rushing
away through the underbrush like wild cattle.
And, though the grown people doubted whether
the negroes had not been startled by some of the
hogs, which were quite wild, feeding in the woods,
the boys were satisfied that the negroes really had
seen deserters.
This became a certainty, when there came report
after report of these wood-skulkers, and when the
conscript-guard, with the brightest of uniforms,
rode by with as much show and noise as if on a fox-
hunt. Then it became known that deserters were,
indeed, infesting the piny district of Holetown, and
in considerable numbers.
Some of them, it was said, were pursuing agri-
culture and all their ordinary vocations as openly
as in time of peace, and more industriously. They
had a regular code of signals, and nearly every
person in the Holetown settlement was in league
with them.
When the conscript-guard came along, there
would be a rush of tow-headed children through
the woods, or some of the women about the cabins
would blow a horn lustily; after which not a man
could be found in all the district. The horn told
just how many men were in the guard, and which
path they were following; every member of the
troop being honored with a short, quick "toot."
"What are you blowing that horn for?" sternly
asked the guard one morning of an old woman,-
old Mrs. Hall, who stood out in front of her little
house blowing like Boreas in the pictures.
"Jes' blowin' fur Millindy to come to dinner,"
she said, sullenly. Can't y' all let a po' 'ooman
call her gals to git some 'n' to eat ? You got all
her boys in d' army, killing' 'em; why n't yo' go
and git kilt some yo'self, 'stidder ridin' 'bout heah
tromplin' all over po' folks's chickens ? "
When the troop returned in the evening,
she was still blowing; "blowin' fur Millindy to
come home," she said, with more sharpness than
before. But there must have been many Millindys,
for horns were sounding all through the settle-
The deserters, at such times, were said to take
to the swamps, and marvelous rumors were abroad
of one or more caves, all fitted up, wherein they

concealed themselves, like the robbers in the stories
the boys were so fond of reading.
After a while thefts of pigs and sheep became so
common that they were charged to the deserters.
Finally it grew to be such a pest that the ladies in
the neighborhood asked the Home Guard to take
action in the matter, and after some delay it became
known that this valorous body was going to invade
Holetown and capture the deserters or drive them
away. Hugh was to accompany them, of course;
and he looked very handsome, as well as very im-
portant, when he started out on horseback to join
the troop. It was his first active service; and
with his trousers in his boots and his pistol in his
belt he looked as brave as Julius Casar, and quite
laughed at his mother's fears for him, as she kissed
him good-bye and walked out with him to his
horse, which Balla held at the gate.
The boys asked leave to go with him; but Hugh
was so scornful over their request, and looked so
soldierly as he galloped away with the other men
that the boys felt as cheap as possible.


WHEN the boys went into the house they found
that their Aunt Mary had a headache that morn-
ing, and, even with the best intentions of doing
her duty in teaching them, had been forced to go
to bed. Their mother was too much occupied
with her charge of providing for a family of over
a dozen white persons, and five times as many col-
ored dependents, to give any time to acting as
substitute in the school-room, so the boys found
themselves with a holiday before them. It seemed
vain to try to shoot duck on the creek, and the
perch were averse to biting. The boys accord-
ingly determined to take both guns and to set out
for a real hunt in the big woods.
They received their mother's permission, and
after a luncheon was prepared they started in
high glee, talking about the squirrels and birds
they expected to kill.
Frank had his gun, and Willy had the musket;
and both carried a plentiful supply of powder and
some tolerably round slugs made from cartridges.
They usually hunted in the part of the woods
nearest the house, and they knew that game was
not very abundant there; so, as a good long day
was before them, they determined to go over to
the other side of the woods.
They accordingly pushed on, taking a path
which led through the forest. They went entirely
through the big woods without seeing anything
but one squirrel, and presently found themselves
at the extreme edge of Holetown. They were
just grumbling at the lack of game when they



heard a distant horn. The sound came from per-
haps a mile or more away, but was quite distinct.
What's that? Somebody fox-hunting ?- or
is it a dinner-horn ?" asked Willy, listening intently.
It's a horn to warn deserters, that's what
't is," said Frank, pleased to show his superior
I tell you what to do: -let 's go and hunt de-
serters," said Willy, eagerly.
"All right. Won't that be fun!" and both
boys set out down the road toward a point where
they knew one of the paths ran into the pine-dis-
trict, talking of the numbers of prisoners they
expected to take.
In an instant they were as alert and eager as
young hounds on a trail. They had mapped out
a plan before, and they knew exactly what they
had to do. Frank was the captain, by right of his
being older; and Willy was lieutenant, and was to
obey orders. The chief thing that troubled them
was that they did not wish to be seen by any of
the women or children about the cabins, for they
all knew the boys, because they were accustomed
to come to Oakland for supplies; then, too, the
boys wished to remain on friendly terms with
their neighbors. Another thing worried them.
They did not know what to do with their prisoners
after they should have captured them. However,
they pushed on and soon came to a dim cart-way,
which ran at right angles to the main road and
which went into the very heart of Holetown. Here

they halted to reconnoiter and to inspect their
Even from the main road, the track, as it led
off through the overhanging woods with thick un-
derbrush of chinquapin bushes, appeared to the
boys to have something strange about it, though
they had at other times walked it from end to end.
Still, they entered boldly, clutching their guns.
Willy suggested that they should go in Indian file
and that the rear one should step in the other's
footprints as the Indians do; but Frank thought
it was best to walk abreast, as the Indians walked
in their peculiar way only to prevent an enemy
who crossed their trail from knowing how many
they were; and, so far from it being any disad-
vantage for the deserters to know their number,
it was even better that they should know there
were two, so that they would not attack from the
rear. Accordingly, keeping abreast, they struck in;
each taking the woods on one side of the road,
which he was to watch and for which he was to be
The farther they went the more indistinct the
track became, and the wilder became the surround-
ing woods. They proceeded with great caution, ex-
amining every particularly thick clump of bushes;


peeping behind each very large tree; and occa-
sionally even taking a glance up among its boughs,
for they had themselves so often planned how, if
pursued they would climb trees and conceal them-
selves, that they would not have been at all sur-
prised to find a fierce deserter, armed to the teeth,
crouching among the branches.
Though they searched carefully every spot
where a deserter could possibly lurk, they passed
through the oak woods and were deep in the pines
without having seen any foe or heard a noise which
could possibly proceed from one. A squirrel had
daringly leaped from the trunk of a hickory-tree
and run into the woods, right before them, stopping
impudently to take a good look at them; but they
were hunting larger game than squirrels, and they
resisted the temptation to take a shot at him,-an
exercise of virtue which brought them a distinct
feeling of pleasure. They were, however, begin-
ning to be embarrassed as to their next course.
They could hear the dogs barking, farther on in
the pines, and knew they were approaching the
vicinity of the settlement; for they had crossed the
little creek which ran through a thicket of elder
bushes and gunss" and which marked the bound-
ary of Holetown. Little paths, too, every now and
then turned off from the main track and went into
the pines, each leading to a cabin or bit of creek-
bottom deeper in. They therefore were in a real
dilemma concerning what to do; and Willy's
suggestion, to eat luncheon, was a welcome one.
They determined to go a little way into the woods,
where they could not be seen, and had just taken
the luncheon out of the game-bag and were turning
into a by-path, when they met a man who was
coming along at a slow, lounging walk, and carry-
ing a long single-barrelled shot-gun across his
When first they heard him, they thought he
might be a deserter; but when he came nearer
they saw that he was simply a countryman out
hunting; for his old game-bag (from which peeped
a squirrel's tail) was over his shoulder, and he had
no weapons at all, excepting that old squirrel-gun.
"Good morning, sir," said both boys, politely.
"Mornin' What luck y' all had?" he asked
good-naturedly, stopping and putting the butt of
his gun on the ground, and resting lazily on it, pre-
paratory to a chat.
"We 're not gunning; we're hunting deserters."
Huntin' deserters! echoed the man with a
smile which broke into a chuckle of amusement
as the thought worked its way into his brain.
"Ain't you see' none ? "
"No," said both boys in a breath, greatly pleased
at his friendliness. Do you know where any
are ? "

The man scratched his head, seeming to reflect.
"Well, 'pears to me I earn tell o' some, 'roun'
to'des that-a-ways," making a comprehensive sweep
of his arm in the direction just opposite to that
which the boys were taking. "I seen the con-
scrip'-guard a little while ago pokin' 'roun' this-
a-way; but Lor', that ain' the way to ketch
deserters. I knows every foot o' groun' this-a-way,
an' ef they was any deserters roun' here I 'd be
mighty apt to know it! "
This announcement was an extinguisher to the
boys' hopes. Clearly, they were going in the
wrong direction.
"We are just going to eat our luncheon," said
Frank; won't you join us? "
Willy added his invitation to his brother's, and
their friend politely accepted, suggesting that they
should walk back a little way and find a log. This
all three did; and in a few minutes they were en-
joying the luncheon which the boys' mother had
provided, while the stranger was telling the boys
his views about deserters, which, to say the least,
were very original.
"I seen the conscrip'-guard jes' this morning ,
ridin' 'round whar they knowed they war n' no
deserters, but ole women and childern," he said
with his mouth full. "Why n't they go whar
they knows deserters is?" he asked.
Where are they? We heard they had a cave
down on the river, and we were goin' there," de-
clared the boys.
"Down on the river? -a cave? Ain' no cave
down thar, without it's below Rockett's Mill; fur
I 've hunted and fished ev'y foot o' that river up an'
down both sides, an' t' ain' a hole thar, big enough
to hide a' ole hyah, I ain' know."
This proof was too conclusive to admit of further
Why don't you go in the army? asked Willy,
after a brief reflection.
"What? Why don't I go in the army?" re-
peated the hunter. "Why, I's in the army! You
did n' think I war n't in the army, did you?"
The hunter's tone and the expression of his face
were so full of surprise that Willy felt deeply mor-
tified at his rudeness, and began at once to stam-
mer something to explain himself.
"I b'longs to Colonel Marshall's regiment,"
continued the man, "an' I 's been home sick on
leave o' absence. Got wounded in the leg, an'
I 's jes' getting' well. I ain' rightly well enough to
go back now, but I 's anxious to git back; I 'm
gwine to-morrow morning' ef I don' go this even-
in'. You see I kin hardly walk now!" and to
demonstrate his lameness, he got up and limped
a few yards. I ain' well yit," he pursued, return-
ing and dropping into his seat on the log, with


his face drawn up by the pain the exertion had nothing' 'bout that," and he opened his shirt and
brought on. showed a triangular, purple scar on his shoulder.
"Let me see your wound? Is it sore now?" "You certainly must be a brave soldier," ex-
asked Willy, moving nearer to the man with a look claimed both boys, impressed at sight of the scar,
expressive of mingled curiosity and sympathy. their voices softened by fervent admiration.


You can't see it; it's up heah," said the soldier,
touching the upper part of his hip; "an' I got
another one heah," he added, placing his hand
very gently to his side. This one 's whar a Yan-
kee run me through with his sword. Now, that one
was where a piece of shell hit me,- I don't keer

"Yes, I kep' up with the bes' of 'em," he said,
with a pleased smile.
Suddenly a horn began to blow, toot toot -
toot," as if all the Millindys" in the world were
being summoned. It was so near the boys that it
quite startled them.



"That 's for the deserters, now," they both ex-
Their friend looked calmly up and down the
road, both ways.
Them rascally conscrip'-guard been tellin' you
all that, to gi' 'em some excuse for keeping' out
o' th' army theyselves,- that 's all. Th' ain't no
deserters any whar in all these parts, an' you kin
tell 'em so. I 'm gwine down thar an' see what
that horn 's a-blowin' fur; hit's somebody's dinner
horn, or sump'n'," he added, rising and taking up
his game-bag.
Can't we go with you? asked the boys.
"Well, nor, I reckon you better not," he
drawled; thar's some right bad dogs down thar
in the pines,-mons'us bad; an' I's gwine cut
through the woods an' see ef I can't pick up a
squ'rr'l, gwine'long, for the ole 'ooman's supper, as
I got to go 'way to-nightor to-morrow; she's mighty
"Is she poorly much?" asked Willy, greatly
concerned. "We '11 get mamma to come andsee
her to-morrow, and bring her some bread."
"Nor, she ain' so sick; that is to say, she jis'
poorly and 'sturbed in her mind. She gittin' sort
o' old. Here, y' all take these squ'rr'ls," he said, tak-
ing the squirrels from his old game-bag and toss-
ing them at Willy's feet. Both boys protested,
but he insisted. "Oh, yes; I kin get some mo'
fur her."
Y' all better go home. Well, good-bye, much
obliged to you," and he strolled off with his gun
in the bend of his arm, leaving the boys to admire
and talk over his courage.
They turned back, and had gone about a quarter
of a mile, when they heard a great trampling of
horses behind them. They stopped to listen, and
in a little while a squadron of cavalry came in
sight. The boys stepped to one side of the road
to wait for them, eager to tell the important infor-
mation they had received from their friend, that
there were no deserters in that section. In a hur-
ried consultation they agreed not to tell that they
had been hunting deserters themselves, as they
knew the soldiers would only have a laugh at their
"Hello, boys, what luck?" called the officer in
the lead, in a friendly manner.
They told him they had not shot anything; that
the squirrels had been given to them; and then
both boys inquired:
"You all hunting for deserters ?"
"You seen any? asked the leader carelessly,
while one or two men pressed their horses forward
"No, th' ain't any deserters in this direction at
all," said the boys, with conviction in their manner.
VOL. XV.-37.


How do you know? asked the officer.
"'Cause a gentleman told us so."
"Who? When? What gentleman?"
"A gentleman we met a little while ago."
How long ago? Who was he?"
"Don't know who he was," said Frank.
"When we were eating our snack," put in
Willy, not to be left out.
"How was he dressed? Where was it? What
sort of man was he ? eagerly inquired the lead-
ing trooper.
The boys proceeded to describe their friend,
impressed by the intense interest accorded them
by the listeners.
"He was a sort of a man with red hair, and
wore a pair of gray breeches and an old pair of
shoes, and was in his shirt-sleeves." Frank was
the spokesman.
"And he had a gun,- a long squirrel-gun,"
added Willy, and he said he belonged to Colonel
Marshall's regiment."
"Why, that's Tim Mills. He's a deserter him-
self," exclaimed the captain.
No, he ain't,- ze ain't any deserter," protested
both at once. "He is a mighty brave soldier, and
he 's been home on a furlough to get well of a
wound on his leg where he was shot."
"Yes, and it ain't well yet, but he 's going back
to his command to-night or to-morrow morning,
and he's got another wound in his side where a
Yankee ran him through with his sword. We
know he ain't any deserter."
How do you know all this ?" asked the officer.
"He told us so himself, just now-a little while
ago, that is," said the boys.
The man laughed.
Why, he's fooled you to death. That's Tim
himself, that 's been doing all the devilment about
here. He is the worst deserter in the whole gang."
We saw the wound on his shoulder," declared
the boys, still doubting.
I know it; he 's got one there,- that's what I
know him by. Which way did he go,- and how
long has it been ?"
He went that way, down in the woods; and it's
been some time. He 's got away now."
The lads by this time were almost convinced of
their mistake; but they could not prevent their
sympathy from being on the side of their late
agreeable companion.
"We'll catch the rascal," declared the leadervery
fiercely. Come on, men,-he can't have gone
far "; and he wheeled his horse about and dashed
back up the road at a great pace, followed by his
men. The boys were half inclined to follow and
aid in the capture; but Frank, after a moment's
thought, said solemnly:



"No, Willy; an Arab never betrays a man who
has eaten his salt. This man has broken bread
with us; we can not give him up. I don't think
we ought to have told about him as much as we did."
This was an argument not to be despised.
A little later, as the boys trudged home, they
heard the horns blowing again a regular "toot-
toot" for "Mellindy." It struck them that supper
followed dinner very quickly in Holetown.
When the troop passed by in the evening the
men were in very bad humor. They had had a
fruitless addition to their ride, and some of them
were inclined to say that the boys had never seen
any man at all, which the boys thought was pretty
silly, as the man had eaten at least two-thirds of
their luncheon.
Somehow the story got out, and Hugh was very
scornful because the boys had given their luncheon
to a deserter.


As time went by, the condition of things at
Oakland changed as it did everywhere else.
The boys' mother, like all the other ladies of the
country, was so devoted to the cause that she gave
to the soldiers until there was nothing left. After
that there was a failure of the crops, and the im-
mediate necessities of the family and the hands on
the place were great.
There was no sugar nor coffee nor tea. These
luxuries had been given up long before. An at-
tempt was made to manufacture sugar out of the
sorghum, or sugar-cane, which was now being
cultivated as an experiment; but it proved unsuc-
cessful, and molasses made from the cane was
the only sweetening. The boys, however, never
liked anything sweetened with molasses, so they
gave up everything that had molasses in it. Sas-
safras-tea was tried as a substitute for tea, and a
drink made out of parched corn and wheat, of
burnt sweet-potato and other things, in the place
of coffee; but none of them were fit to drink -at
least so the boys thought. The wheat crop proved
a failure; but the corn turned out very fine, and
the boys learned to live on corn-bread, as there was
no wheat-bread.
The soldiers still came by, and the house was
often full of young officers who came to see the
boys' cousins. The boys used to ride the horses
to and from the stables, and, being perfectly fear-
less, became very fine riders.
Several times, among the visitors, came the
young colonel who had commanded the regiment
that had camped at the bridge the first year of the
war. It did not seem to the boys that Cousin Belle
liked him, for she took much longer to dress when

he came; and if there were other officers present
she would take very little notice of the colonel.
Both boys were in love with her, and after con-
siderable hesitation had written her a joint letter
to tell her so, at which she laughed heartily and
kissed them both and called them her sweet-
hearts. But, though they were jealous of several
young officers who came from time to time, they
felt sorry for the colonel,-their cousin was so
mean to him. They were on the best terms with
him, and had announced their intention of going
into his regiment if only the war should last long
enough. When he came, there was always a
scramble to get his horse; though of all who came
to Oakland he rode the wildest horses, as both
boys knew by practical experience.
At length the soldiers moved off too far to per-
mit them to come on visits, and things were very
dull. So it was for a long while.
But one evening in May, about sunset, as the
boys were playing in the yard, a man came rid-
ing through the place on the way to Richmond.
His horse showed that he had been riding hard.
He asked the nearest way to "Ground-Squirrel
Bridge." The Yankees, he said, were coming.
It was a raid. He had ridden ahead of them, and
had left them about Greenbay depot, which they
had set on fire. He was in too great a hurry to stop
and get something to eat, and he rode off, leav-
ing much excitement behind him; for Greenbay
was only about eight miles away, and Oakland lay
right between two roads to Richmond, down one
or the other of which the party of raiders must
certainly pass.
It was the first time the boys ever saw their
mother exhibit so much emotion as she then did.
She came to the door and called:
"Balla, come here." Her voice sounded to the
boys a little strained, and they ran up the steps
and stood by her. Balla came to the portico, and
looked up with an air of inquiry. He, too, showed
Balla, I want you to know that if you wish to
go, you can do so."
"Hi, Mistis-- began Balla, with an air of
reproach; but she cut him short and kept on.
I want you all to know it." She was speaking
now so as to be heard by the cook and the maids
who were standing about the yard listening to her.
"I want you all to know it-every one on the
place! You can go if you wish; but, if you go,
you can never come back "
"Hi! Mistis," broke in Uncle Balla, '"whar is
I got to go? I wuz born on dis place an' I 'spec'
to die here, an' be buried right yonder"; and he
turned and pointed up to the dark clump of trees
that had marked the grave-yard on the hill, a half


mile away, where the colored people were buried.
"Dat I does," he affirmed positively. "Y' all
sticks by us an' we '11 stick by you."
"I know I ain' gwine nowhar wid no Yankees
or nothing, said Lucy Ann, in an undertone.
"Dee tell me dee got hoofs and horns," laughed
one of the women in the yard.
The boys' mother started to say something fur-

A .l

,' ,_ i ..

I ., ,,

.. .

E4- '
DO- T .- IN -'-A E'-T T HUNTE*,

....Ij: ,, ,- _- _- ,

- ... '




glowing on the horizon, and on this every one's
gaze was fixed.
"Where is it, Balla? What is it?" asked the
boys' mother, her voice no longer strained and
harsh, but even softer than usual.
"It's the depot, madam. They's burnin' it. That
man told me they was burnin' ev'ywhar they went."
Will they be here to-night ?" asked his mistress.
No, marm ; I don' hard-
ly think they will. That
man said they could n't
travel more than thirty
miles a day; but they '11
be plenty of 'em here
to-morrow-to breakfast."
He gave a nervous sort of
"Here,-you all come
here," said their mistress to
the servants. She went to
the smoke-house and un-
locked it. Go in there
and get down the bacon-
take a piece, each of you."
A great deal was still left.
: "Balla, step here." She
called him aside and spoke
earnestly in an undertone.
"Yes'm, that's so; that's
jes' what I wuz gwine do,"
S the boys heard him say.
Their mother sent the
---T- '-__ boys out. She went and
locked herself in her room,
but they heard her footsteps
S as she turned about within,
and now and then they
S. heard her opening and shut-
'- ting drawers and moving
In a little while she came
"Frank, you and Willy
go and tell Balla to come
to the chamber door. He
WHY, I'S IN THE ARMY! m nay be out in the stable."
They dashed out, proud

their to Balla, but though she opened her lips, she to bear so important
did not speak; she turned suddenly and walked find him, but an ho
into the house and into her chamber, where she ing from the stable
shut the door behind her. The boys thought she house. They rushed
was angry, but when they softly followed her a few they found the door
minutes afterward, she got up hastily from where "Balla, come in h
she had been kneeling beside the bed, and they within. Have yot
saw that she had been crying. A murmur under Yes 'm; jes' as
the window called them back to the portico. It to be 'bout here whe
had begun to grow dark; but a bright spot was an' stay whar they is

t a message. They could not
ur later they heard him com-
SHe at once went into the
:d into the chamber, where
of the closet open.
ere," called their mother from
Sgot them safe? she asked.
safe as they kin be. I want
:n they come, or I 'd go down



'"What is it? asked the boys.
"Where is the best place to put that?" she
said, pointing to a large, strong box in which, they
knew, the finest silver was kept; indeed, all except-
ing what was used every day on the table.
: Well, I declar', Mistis, that's hard to tell,"
said the old driver, "without it's in the stable."
They may burn that down."
"That's so ; you might bury it under the floor
of the smoke-house ? "
I have heard that they always look for silver
there," said the boys' mother. How would it do
to bury it in the garden? "
"That's the very place I was gwine name,"
said Balla, with flattering approval. They can't
burn that down, and. if they gwine dig for it then
they '11 have to dig a long time before they git
over that big garden." He stooped and lifted up
one end of the box to test its weight.
I thought of the other end of the flower-bed,
between the big rose-bush and the lilac."
"That's the very place I had in my mind,"
declared the old man. They won' never fine it
dyah "
We know a good place," said the boys both
together; "it's a heap better than that. It's
where we bury our treasures when we play 'Black-
beard the Pirate.'"
Very well," said their mother; I don't care
to know where it is until after to-morrow, anyhow.
I know I can trust you," she added, addressing
"Yes 'm, you know dat," said he, simply. "I'11
jes' go an' git my hoe."
"The garden ain't got a roof to it, has it, Unc'
Balla ? asked Willy, quietly.
Go 'way from here, boy," said the old man,
making a sweep at him with his hand. That
boy ain' never done talking' 'bout that thing yit,"
he added, with a pleased laugh, to his mistress.
And you ain't never give me all those chickens
either," responded Willy, forgetting his grammar.
"Oh, well, I'm gwi' do it; ain't you hear me
say I 'm gwine do it? he laughed as he went out.
The boys were too excited to get sleepy before
the silver was hidden. Their mother told them
they might go down into the garden and help
Balla, on condition that they would not talk.
"That's the way we always do when we bury
the treasure. Ain't it, Willy? asked Frank.
If a man speaks, it's death declared Willy,
slapping his hand on his side as if to draw a
sword, striking a theatrical attitude and speaking
in a deep voice.
Give the 'galleon' to us," said Frank.
No; be off with you," said their mother.
That ain't the way," said Frank. A pirate

never digs the hole until he has his treasure at
hand. To do so would prove him but a novice;
would n't it, Willy? "
"Well, I leave it all to you, my little Bucca-
neers," said their mother, laughing. I'll take
care of the spoons and forks we use every day.
I '11 just hide them away in a hole somewhere."
The boys started off after Balla with a shout,
but remembered their errand and suddenly hushed
down to a little squeal of delight at being actu-
ally engaged in burying treasure real silver. It
seemed too good to be true, and withal there was
a real excitement about it, for how could they
know but that some one might watch them from
some hiding-place, or might even fire into them
as they worked?
They met the old fellow as he was coming from
the carriage-house with a hoe and a spade in his
hands. He was on his way to the garden in a very
straightforward manner, but the boys made him
understand that to bury treasure it was necessary
to be particularly secret, and after some little
grumbling, Balla humored them.
The difficulty of getting the box of silver out of
the house secretly, whilst all the family were up,
and the servants were moving about, was so great
that this part of the affair had to be carried on in
a manner different from the usual programme of
pirates of the first water. Even the boys had to
admit this ; and they yielded to old Balla's advice
on this point, but made up for it by additional for-
mality, ceremony, and secrecy in pointing out the
spot where the box was to be hid.
Old Balla was quite accustomed to their games
and fun their pranks," as he called them. He
accordingly yielded willingly when they marched
him to a point at the lower end of the yard, on the
opposite side from the garden, and left him. But
he was inclined to give trouble when they both re-
appeared with a gun, and in a whisper announced
that they must march first up the ditch which ran
by the spring around the foot of the garden.
Look here, boys; I ain' got time to fool with
you children," said the old man. "Ain't you
hear your ma tell me she'pend on me to bury that
silver what yo' gran'ma and gran'pa used to eat
off o'-an' don' wan' nobody to know nothing'
'bout it? An' y' all coming' here with guns, like
you huntin' squ'rr'ls, an' now talking' 'bout wadin'
in de ditch "
But, Unc' Balla, that's the way all buccaneers
do," protested Frank.
Yes, buccaneers always go by water," said
And we can stoop in the ditch and come in at
the far end of the garden, so nobody can see us,"
added Frank.


"Bookanear or bookafar,-I 'se gwine in dat
garden and dig a hole wid my hoe, an' I is too ole
to be wadin' in a ditch like chillern. I got de
misery in my knee now, so bad I 'se sca'cely able to
stand. I don' know huccome y' all ain't satisfied
with the place you' ma an' I done pick, anyways."
This was too serious a mutiny for the boys. So
it was finally agreed that one gun should be re-
turned to the office, and that they should enter by
the gate, after which Balla was to go with the boys
by the way they should show him, and see the spot
they thought of.
They took him down through the weeds around
the garden, crouching under the rose-bushes, and
at last stopped at a spot under the slope, com-
pletely surrounded by shrubbery.
"Here is the spot," said Frank in a whisper,
pointing under one of the bushes.
It 's in a line with the longest limb of the big
oak-tree by the gate," added Willy, and when
this locust bush and that cedar grow to be big
trees, it will be just half-way between them."
As this seemed to Balla a very good place, he
set to work at once to dig, the two boys helping
him as well as they could. It took a great deal
longer to dig the hole in the dark, than they had
expected, and when they got back to the house
everything was quiet.
The boys had their hats pulled over their eyes,
and had turned their jackets inside out to disguise
It 's a first-rate place Ain't it, Unc' Balla?"
they said, as they entered the chamber where their
mother and aunt were waiting for them.
Do you think it will do, Balla ? their mother

"Oh, yes, madam; it 's far enough, an' they
got mighty comical ways to get dyah, wadin' in
ditch an' things -it will do. I ain' show I kin
fin' it ag'in myself." He was not particularly en-
thusiastic. Now, however, he shouldered the box,
with a grunt at its weight, and the party went
slowly out through the back door into the dark.
The glow of the burning depot was still visible in
the west.
Then it was decided that Willy should go before
-he said "to reconnoiter," Balla said "to open the
gate and lead the way,"--and that Frank should
bring up the rear.
They trudged slowly on through the darkness,
Frank and Willy watching on every side, old
Balla stooping under the weight of the big box.
After they were some distance in the garden
they heard, or thought they heard, a sound back
at the gate, but decided that it was nothing but
the latch clicking; and they went on down to their
In a little while the black box was well settled
in the hole, and the dirt was thrown upon it. The
replaced earth made something of a mound, which
was unfortunate. They had not thought of this;
but they covered it with leaves, and agreed that it
was so well hidden, the Yankees would never dream
of looking there.
"Unc' Balla, where are your horses ?" asked
one of the boys.
That 's for me to know, an' them to find out
that kin," replied the old fellow with a chuckle of
The whole party crept back out of the garden,
and the boys were soon dreaming of buccaneers
and pirates.

(To be continued.)

. ,; \


0 COSETTE, you are the dearest kitty !" And
little Max, who spoke, laid his golden head against
the soft fur of the big Maltese cat, and hugged her
tight with both arms.
A gypsy fire of light driftwood sticks was spark-
ling and crackling on the hearth; the children
were gathered about it, Robert and Rose, Lettice,
Elinor, and little Max. The rain was falling mer-
rily on the roof of the low, brown cottage where
they had come to live for the summer. Mamma,
with her work, sat in the corner of the sofa near.
"Well, how it does pour !" said Letty, going
to the window. The rest followed her, and stood
looking out. They saw the gray sea, calm and
silvery, slowly rolling toward the gray sand, break-
ing in long, lazy lines of white foam at the edge
of the beach. A few small boats were moored
near; to the left, not far away, a cluster of fish-
houses, old and storm-worn, their roofs spotted
with yellow lichens, stood on the shore. There
were no sails in sight,-only dim sea, dim sky,
and pouring rain.
We can't go out to-day at all said Rose.
"Not all the long day ? questioned Max, wist-
Oh, perhaps it will clear off by and by," Elinor,
the elder, said. "Who knows? Never mind if it
does n't, we can have a good time in the house;
can't we, Rob ?"

"Yes, we can! Rob cried. "I m going to
make boats for us all, a whole fleet Won't that
be a good thing, Mamma? And then, as soon as
it clears off, we '11 launch them and send them off
to Spain. You find some stiff white paper, girls.
Mamma will give us some; I '11 go out to the shed
for lumber to build my ships," and away he went.
Mamma provided scissors and paper. Elinor turned
back the rug to make a place for Rob to whittle;
presently he returned with a basket of driftwood,
bits of many sizes and shapes, some worn smooth
as satin by the touches of millions of waves, hav-
ing floated on the ocean, Heaven alone knows how
Now, is n't this fun he said, as they all sat
together round the basket, Rose and Lettice with
the scissors shaping sails under his direction, while
he proceeded to turn out of his pocket the fifty
things, more or less, that go to make up the freight
a boy generally carries; of course, the knife,
being heaviest, was at the bottom. A roll of stout,
brown twine caught Max's eye.
"Please, Rob, let me have it to play with, for
reins to drive Rose," he begged; so Rob tossed it
over to him where he sat curled up with his kitty.
"There it is, Maxie! Now, let 's begin to
name our boats, girls. I 'm going to call mine
the 'Emperor,' 'cause it 's going to lead the
fleet! "


"Mine shall be the Butterfly,' said Rose.
That 's good What for yours, Letty ?"
I think the Kittiwake' will be a good name
for mine."
Yes, that will do. And what shall yours be,
Nelly ? "
Oh, the 'Albatross,' because he flies so fast
without moving his wings "
That 's fine! Now, Max, what are you going
to call your boat? "
Max was turning over the bits of wood in the
basket. Inside the edge he had just found a brown,
woolly caterpillar. Oh," he cried. "See! A
pillow cat! A pillow cat!"
"You mean a caterpillar, dear," said Letty.
"Do let him call it a pillow cat, Letty dear,"
said Mamma; he is n't much more than my baby
yet, you know."
"'But you don't want your ship called the 'Pil-
low Cat,' do you, Max?" asked Rob. They all
laughed, tried this name and that, but nothing
seemed to suit Max, who said "No" to everything;
so they left it to be decided afterward. They
watched their ship-builder with great pride and
interest, but after a while they grew tired.
Let's play cat's-cradle with Max's string,"
Rose said to Letty at last, and they proceeded to
try; but Rose did not know how, and Letty only
half remembered, so they appealed to Rob.
"Do please leave off whittling a minute and
show us how, Rob."
Being a good-natured brother, he threw down his
knife and stood up before Letty while he showed
her the ins and outs of the complicated web. Very
soon she learned how to make it, then taught Rose,
and they amused themselves for some time while
Rob worked away, and Max played with his dear
kitty, and Mamma and Elinor were sewing and
talking together. Soon as the "Butterfly" was
finished, the girls rigged her with the square,
white paper sails, and she was "stowed" (as Bob
nautically expressed it) on the mantel-piece, for
safety. Then the "Emperor" was begun, but
before it was half done lunch was ready: still it
rained, perpendicularly pouring. Papa had been
busy in the study all the morning, but after lunch
he sat with the children, taking Max upon his
"I 'll begin Max's boat," he said. "Now,
Mamma, won't you tell us a story? We can
work so much faster, you know."
"Elinor is the story-teller of the family," Mamma
replied. "Let her try." So Elinor began. Rose
curled up on the rug, Letty held Cosette, Max
laid his pretty head against Papa's shoulder,
and all watched the whittling while they listened
to Elinor.

RADLE. 583

"Once upon a time," she began, and her
pleasant voice went on and on; the rain pat-
tered gently and steadily; the long surf whis-
pered with a soft, hushing sound, and presently,
before they knew it, Max was sound asleep. Papa
laid him among the cushions by Mamma's side
and went back to his books; then they found
Rose had fallen sound asleep too. But the rain
went on, and the story, and the whispering rush
of the water, till suddenly Rose laughed out in
her sleep so loud that she waked, sat up, rubbed
her eyes, and then began to laugh again.
What is the matter, Rosy ? they asked her.
Oh, such a funny dream," she said. Such a
queer dream. I thought I was standing down by
the marsh where the cat-o'-nine-tails grow, you
know; -the moon was just coming up over the
water, yellow, and big, and round, and I thought
it had such a funny face with two eyes that kept
blinking and winking, first at me and then at the
tall reeds; and suddenly I heard a rustling, and
up the long stalks I saw a gray mother-cat climb-
ing, and after her five little gray kittens,-oh,
so pretty and so tiny. They had such hard work
to climb, for the bending stalks were slippery,-
and they bent more and more the higher the little
cats climbed. But they kept on, one kitty out-
stripped the rest and almost reached the brown,
heavy reed-tops, when all at once I saw that the
ends were hung with little cradles,-real cradles,
with real rockers,- and the first thing I knew, that
foremost kitty had jumped in and cuddled down
in the nearest cradle, and there she swung, to
and fro, up and down (for the wind was blowing
too), and she looked so pretty with her little ears
sticking up and her bright eyes shining, as she
watched the other kittens climbing after her, for
there was a cradle for every one of them to rock
in. Then when they were all in, it was so comical
I laughed aloud, and that woke me. But I wish
we had the kits and the cradles to play with here! "
Cat's-cradle !" said Elinor; "why would n't
that be a good name for Max's boat ?"
Why, yes," they cried; would n't you like
it, Max? Shall your boat be called the 'Cat's-
Cradle' ?"
"Yes," answered Max, who had waked and
listened with interest to Rose's dream, kitty shall
go sail in her, rock, rock, on the water." So it
was settled.
"Just look at the sun cried Letty, for a great
glory suddenly streamed in from the west, where
the sun was sinking toward the sea, and flooded
the room with gold.
"Fair day to-morrow! cried Rob. "All the
fleet can start for Spain!-' Cat's-Cradle' and all,
for that is done, too," and he ranged the little

584 CAT'S-C
vessels in a row on the shelf. Mamma laughed
to see her mantel turned into a ship-yard; and the
children went to rest that night full of glad hopes
for the morrow.
The day rose bright and fair. After breakfast
they prepared to go down to the beach for their
"Let's man all the boats," said Rob; "let's
take Max's Noah's Ark and put passengers on
board every one, out of the Ark!"
"If Max is willing," suggested Elinor.
"Are you, Max?" asked Letty. "Oh, yes!
We '11 send Noah to Spain in the 'Cat's-Cradle'!
That will be fun! Are you willing? Yes?" and
away she ran upstairs and came back with the toy
in her hand, shaking dogs, cats, elephants, and
rats together with Noah and his family in hopeless
Cosette was rubbing her head affectionately
against Max's stout little legs.
"Let's take the kitty, too; she wants to go,"
he said; and out they flocked together, Cosette
following, all dancing and capering toward the low
rocks where the fish-houses stood, to reach a small,
pebbly cove beyond, where the water was smooth
as glass. Old Jerry, the fisherman, sat mending
his net on the shore; he greeted them as they went
skipping by, each with boat in hand.
"Fine morning' for your launch," quoth he;
"wind off shore and everything fair."
"Yes, they 're all bound for Spain," said Rob
in great glee. "Do you think they '11 get there
to-day? "
"Should n't wonder," answered Jerry, with a
smile. "You never know what may happen in
this 'ere world."
Max stood with Cosette in his arms watching his
brother and sisters man the fleet.
"I think Father Noah ought to sail in the
'Emperor,' don't you ?" asked Rob, "because he
must lead the ships, you know. Shall he, Max?
Oh, yes, he 's willing! Then Mrs. Noah shall go
in the 'Albatross,' and Ham in the 'Kittiwake,'
and Shem on board the 'Butterfly,' and who shall
go in the 'Cat's-Cradle,' Max?"
"I want to go myself !" was Max's unexpected
"Oh, you dear baby! don't you see that you 're
too big?" cried Rose.
"No-boat's too small," said Max. "Put
Noah's kitty in,-she 's little enough."
"Well, she can go with Japhet," and they
sought among the wooden beasts till Noah's kitty
was found; then off started the tiny vessels to-
gether; first the "Emperor," with Father Noah
standing up straight and fine in the stern; then
-the "Albatross" with Mother Noah; after them

the three other boats, their stiff, white sails shin-
ing in the sun and taking the wind bravely. The
children watched breathlessly as the small ships
lifted over the ripples, making their way out of
the quiet cove, till they felt the stronger wind be-
yond and began to sail rapidly away. For a while
they kept quite near together, but at last they
strayed apart, though still obeying the outward-
blowing wind.
"Look at old Noah," cried Rob, "standing
up so brave Oh, he's a great commander "
Dear me, but see Mrs. Noah! She 's fallen
over! cried Letty. "Poor thing! She must
be frightened."
No, she 's only dizzy. There 's so much more
motion'than there was in the Ark! "
A long time they stood watching till the little
white sails were a mere shimmer on the water.
"When will they come back?" asked Max.
" At supper-time? "
"Not so soon, I 'm afraid, Max dear."
Well, to-morrow, then. Will they come back
I cannot tell."
But I want them to come back," the little boy
said, half crying. I want to go and get them
and bring them home."
But, Max, it takes a long time to sail all the
way to Spain," Rose explained. You '11 have
to wait with patience till they are ready to come
Max's lip curled grievously. I want my
boat, my 'Cat's-Cradle,' and my Noah," he said.
Now, Max, never mind Come and see what
Jerry is doing He 's building a fire of sticks and
he's going to mend his boat with tar. Just come
and look at him They drew the little brother
away. For a while he was interested in Jerry's
work, but soon his eyes turned wistfully again to
the water.
I see them he cried. "'Way, 'way off!"
The others looked; they could see just a glim-
mer of white in the blue; they could not really
tell if it were a white gull's breast on the heaving
brine, or their flitting skiffs.
"Now, let them go, dear Max! We 'll get
some baskets and go after berries up beyond the
pasture, and we '11 find some flowers to bring
home to Mamma; that will be lovely; Cosette
shall come, too"; and Max cheered up, took a
hand of Rose and Letty and turned from the glit-
tering blue sea.
"You go on," Rob said; "Nelly and I will
get the baskets and follow you." So the three
went up the scented slope together, through the
sweet-fern and bayberry, where here and there
a golden-rod plume was breaking into sunshine at




the top, till they reached a big rock in a grassy
spot, where they stopped to wait for the others.
Cosette was put down in the grass, and ran off
toward home as fast as she could. Max's grief
came upon him afresh at this second loss.
"Now, don't fret, dear," Letty cried. "Where's

that way and then over so, and round so; then you
take these two ends in your hands and hold them
loosely, and Rose takes the other two ends, and
when I say, 'now !' pull both together, and see
what a tight square knot it makes! Now, you
try, Max "


your piece of string, sweetheart Is n't it in your
little pocket ? Feel and see; I '11 show you how
to make a wonderful knot Jerry showed me."
Max's eyes brightened as he felt in his pocket
for the twine.
"Now, see," said Letty; "I take two pieces,
so, and I put this end round this way and through

Max took the string and the knot.
I can unlike it," he said ; and forthwith began
picking at it industriously with his little fingers
till the ends began to loosen; he would really
have accomplished the undoing had not Elinor
and Rob arrived with the baskets; then they
began picking berries in earnest. It was not long



before they had their baskets full. They gathered
early asters and yellow rudbeckia for Mamma,
and among the trees beyond the pasture they
found the red wood-lilies burning like beautiful
lamps in the green shade. When Max was
tired, Elinor and Rob made a carriage for him,
clasping each other's wrists with their crossed
hands; so he rode home triumphant; and they
trooped in together, weary, rosy and happy with
their treasures.
"My boat sailed away, Mamma," said Max, as
they sat at table.
But all our boats went with it to keep it com-
pany, you know," said Letty.
"Yes, but I want to go after it and bring it
home," insisted Max; and again they had to divert
his mind from his loss.
In the afternoon they went down to play on the
sands as usual, Max's nurse, Molly, accompanying.
Jerry's mended dory was floating in the shallow
cove; they begged to be allowed to get into it,
"just for fun," and the old man put them in,
Cosette and all, for kitty went with them every-
where. They put Max in the bow with his cat in
his lap, and rocked the boat gently to and fro.
Oh, look at the white gull! cried Letty, as
one swept over them; Look, Max It is white
as Mamma's day-lilies in the garden But his
eyes were fixed on the horizon line, where shining
sails were dreaming far away in the sunshine.
"There they are They're coming home! "
he cried.
No, Maxie; those are bigger boats than ours."
"But where have they gone, Rose? Let 's go
after them, now, in this boat. I can untie the
rope," he cried, and he began to work on the knot
which fastened the boat's "painter" to the bow.
They let him work, since it seemed to amuse him
so much, but they did not notice that he really
made an impression on the large knot (which was
not fastened very firmly) before they left the boat.
When Jerry lifted him out, he whispered in the old
man's ear, "To-morrow may I go in your boat to
find Noah and the 'Cat's-Cradle' ?"
Oh, yes, to-night, if you want to go," said
"And Cosette, too? "
Sartin sartin laughed Jerry, so Max was
comforted. They 're all gone," he said to Letty,
looking out over the sea, "but we are going after
them to bring them home, Cosette and I."
"Really, Max?"
"Yes, Jerry said so."
Jerry should n't promise," Letty said; but she
did not wish to grieve her little brother afresh, so
she let the matter drop.
Molly gave him his supper and put him into his

small white bed; tired and sleepy, he was soon in
the land of dreams.
The rest of the family were at dinner. From
the dining-room windows they saw the great disk
of the full moon rising in the violet east, while the
west was yet glowing with sunset. The sea was
full of rosy reflections; across the waves fell the
long path of scattered silver radiance the moon
sent down; a warm wind breathed gently from the
"Oh, Papa," said Elinor, "let's go and ask
Jerry to take us out sailing in the 'Claribel.' It
is so lovely on the water! "
"Well, my dear, I'm willing, but Mamma
does n't like sailing, you know."
"I']1 stay with Mamma. I don't like sailing,
either," said Letty. "We don't mind, do we,
'"Why, no," said Mamma. "Do go! Letty
and I will take a walk together. It is much too
beautiful to stay indoors."
So Papa with his little flock set out for Jerry and
the "Claribel," while Mamma and Letty made
ready for their walk; but before leaving the house
they went into the nursery to see that Max was
asleep and comfortable.
"We are going out, Molly," said Mrs. Lam-
bert to the nurse. '"Take good care of Max."
Sure and I always goes to look at him every
little while, ma'am," said Molly.
"Yes, I know you do. Come, Letty, are you
ready?" and they went out into the fragrant dusk
together, strolling toward the pasture inland.
The boat meanwhile, with its happy crew, had
been fanned away quite a distance from the warm
land. A few faint clouds had gathered, which float-
ing slowly up the sky helped to deepen the balmy
darkness. The brown cottage was left quite alone
except for slumbering Max, the servants, and
Cosette who lay luxuriously napping on the parlor
rug. Presently she woke, stretched her long,
lithe body, sat up and looked about. All was
dark and still. I suppose she wondered where
everybody was; at any rate, she went out of the
door, up the stairs, and finding the nursery door
ajar-as careful Molly had left it so that she
might hear Max if he should call Cosette walked
in, jumped up on her little master's bed, and began
purring affectionately and rubbing her whiskers
against Max's rosy cheek. He half woke, and
spoke out of his dreams. "Cosette," he said,
"now it's time to go and find Noah and all the
boats, and the 'Cat's-Cradle,' and Noah's kitty;
isn't it time, Cosette? "
He sat up and rubbed his eyes. The moon at
that moment was clear and filled the room with


z888.] CATS-C

Cosette," he whispered; "let's go, you and I,
in Jerry's boat."
Cosette purred and cuddled close to him. He
slipped out.of his low bed and took the cat into
his arms. Molly was having her tea downstairs;
no one was nigh. His little bare feet made no
noise on the stair; the front door was open ; there
was nothing to hinder them. A few minutes
more and they were out on the sands. Nobody
saw the small white figure, with gold hair softly
blown about, carrying the gray cat slowly down
to the water. They reached the little cove and
Jerry's dory. A battered log of driftwood lay
half in and half out of the water. Max pushed
the cat before him and climbed on this, and so
crept over the edge of the boat into the bow.
I can untie the rope, Kitty, I know the way !"
and he began to work at the knot. It was so loose
that he soon had it untied.
"Why don't we sail away?" said the little boy,
and forthwith began leaning from side to side,
rocking the boat as he had learned to do in the
afternoon. Presently she began to move and slide
off; the tide was ebbing, the wind blew from the
land, both helped her away till she drifted slowly
out of the cove, beyond the rocks and out to sea.
Max was delighted. "Now, we 're going to find
them, Kitty! Now we '11 bring them all back to
Letty, and Rose, and Rob !"
The dory floated away into the dark. Nobody
saw it, nobody knew. The wind over the water
was cooler than on shore, and Max's little night-
dress was thin. He looked about everywhere over
the dark waves, and shivered.
Where 's Mamma ?" he said. Will we find
the boats soon, Cosette?" Again the light clouds
sailed across the moon. He shrank from the sight
of the dark water; presently he slipped down into
the deep bow of the boat, protected from the wind
and hugging the warm kitty fast. "By and by
we '11 get to Noah," he said, drowsily. The lulling
sound of the light ripples and the rocking of the
drifting dory soon sent him into dreamland
again;-so they floated away on the wide sea and
no one knew anything about it.
Molly finished her tea and went to the stairs
to listen for any sound that might come from the
nursery. All was still.
Sure it 's tired the darlin' do be," she said,
"trampin' round on his two little futs the long day!
He sleeps sound when he sleeps at all," and she
went back to continue her chat with Betty the
cook. She stayed longer than she thought; it
was full half an hour before she crept upstairs to
look at her pet. She was surprised to find the
nursery door wide open. Entering hurriedly she
saw the little white bed empty and cold. "Max !


RADLE. 587

Max, darlin' where do ye be hidin' from Molly?"
She ran from one room to another seeking him,
calling till her voice brought the cook and the
maid rushing upstairs to see what was the matter.
"He's gone !" cried Molly. Mother of Heaven!
he 's gone and she began to wail and cry like a
"Stop your deavin', Molly," cried the frightened
Betty. "Sure and it 's only downstairs he 's
gone. We 'll find him below." They) ran down.
Here, there, everywhere over the whole house they
went; not a trace of him could they find.
Oh, it's kidnapped he is, sure Oh, what '11
I do, what '11 I do! cried Molly, and she ran out-
of-doors to meet Mrs. Lambert and Letty who
were coming up the path to the house.
"Oh, Missis, have yez seen him?" she cried,
half distracted.
"Who, Molly? cried Letty, and the mother's
heart stopped beating as the maid answered:
"The baby! Sure the baby's gone entirely.
I can't find him in the whole house !"
"Molly! are you wild? What can you mean!
Max gone ?" She flew upstairs, followed by Letty
dumb with fear. There was the little empty bed,
with a dimple in the pillow where the golden head
had lain. Pale with anxiety, they sought him
everywhere, at last ran out of the house and up
and down the sands, but never a sign of Max or
Cosette could they find.
Meanwhile, Jerry's whaleboat, the "Claribel,"
was making its way back, beating up toward the
shore against the light and baffling wind with the
happy party on board. The moon gave but a faint
luster through the light clouds, by which they
could see the outlines of the land. The girls had
turned up their sleeves, and held their arms as
deep down as they could reach into the water to
see the phosphorescence blaze at every movement,
outlining their fingers in fre and rolling in foamy
flame up to their elbows; the boat's keel seemed
cutting through this soft, cold flame; it was won-
derful and beautiful, and they never tired of
watching it.
I should be glad if the wind would freshen a
little," their father said, presently. This is all
very charming, but we are going to be late home
for little folks, I 'm afraid," and he drew Rose to
his knee.
Are n't you tired, little girl ? "
No, Papa," but she laid her head on his shoul-
der. Shall we soon be there, now, Papa? "
"I hope so," he replied. "Rob, what makes
you so silent ? "
I don't know, father, whether I 'm asleep and
dreaming, or not, but it seems to me every moment
as if I heard Cosette mewing. Now just keep still


a moment, all of you, and listen. There! did you
hear? You have n't got a cat on board the
'Claribel' in the cuddy, have you, Jerry ?"
"Why, no," replied Jerry, "but I 've been
thinking I heard something queer myself."
Father suddenly cried Rob, what 's that
black speck on the water down there? He
pointed to leeward. At the same time a faint
sound, sharp enough to pierce the soft breeze that
blew against it, reached their ears.
If 't was daytime I should say 't was the gulls
cryin'," said Jerry, "but they don't fly nights."
Is that a dory anchored, with somebody fish-
ing?" asked Mr. Lambert.
"No, sir; whatever 't is, it 's movin'. Shall
we sheer off a little and run down and see what
't is?"
Do," said Mr. Lambert. As the Claribel"
turned on her course, again the sharp cry came,
this time quite clearly to their ears.
Somebody's got a cat somewhere, now that 's
sartin! said Jerry. They all looked and listened
eagerly, fixing their eyes on the dim black speck.
The boat with a free wind sailed faster; soon they
were near enough to distinguish the outline of a
small body sitting up on the broad seat in the
stern of a dory.
"'T ain't big enough for a human critter," said
Jerry. Sure 's you're born, it's a cat in a dory !
How upon earth did it get there ?"
I do believe it is Cosette cried Rob.
Again the moonlight broke through the rifted
cloud, showing them plainly Cosette sitting up-
right; her long, anxious, distressed mews were
pitiful to hear.
"Upon my word, it is Cosette! said Mr. Lam-
And that 's my dory," said Jerry, as he ran
the sail-boat past the skiff, then, luffing to bring
her alongside, caught her by the gunwale, as they
reached her, and held her fast. Cosette stood up,
and with a flying leap landed in the midst of the
astonished group.
"What 's that white thing in the bow?" cried
Elinor. Paa / she screamed, for the white
thing began to move, and a little voice said:
I 'm bery cold, Papa "
Merciful Heaven!" cried Mr. Lambert
Max! Max, is it you ? as he snatched him out
of the dory and clasped him close in his arms,

"with only your night-dress on! all alone Oh,
Max how did you get there "
Elinor sprang with a large shawl she had
brought, and wrapped it closely round him;-she
could not speak, but put her arms round her father
and little brother and leaned her head down on
Max's curly pate.
My little boy! My dear little boy!" Mr.
Lambert said, over and over, and he gathered him
closer and held him fast, as if he never could let
him go again.
S"Oh, Max! cried Elinor at last, seeking for
his bare, cold feet under the shawl and cherishing
them in her warm hands, how did you get there ?"
We did n't reach to Noah," Max said in his
sweet voice. "We went to find the Cat's-Cra-
dle,'--Cosette and I,-and Noah and all the
boats, and we could n't see them and I was cold,
and Cosette cried, and I wanted Mamma and we
could n't find anything, and I want my Noah,"
the little story ended in a sob.
Oh, you poor little darling," cried Rose.
If it had not been for Cosette we never should
have known anything about it," said Rob.
I wonder if they have missed him at home,"
said Elinor. "Poor Mamma! Oh, Papa, I wish
we could sail faster "
It seemed a long time before the boat neared
the landing so they could disembark. Some time
before they reached it they saw dark figures up and
down the beach, and guessed that the poor mother
was wildly searching for her boy. They shouted
as soon as they could make themselves heard:
"He's here He's safe and when the blessed
sound reached her ears, poor Mrs. Lambert fell on
the sand, perfectly overpowered, thanking Heaven
silently with all her soul.
It was not long before she had her treasure in
her happy arms, clinging about her neck, while
the other children clustered eagerly round Father
and Mother, talking, laughing, crying, wonder-
ing and rejoicing, all at once, as they trooped into
the house together.
"Cosette they cried, after Max had been
safely tucked up in his little bed once more and
that little bed moved into Mamma's room, close
at her side,-" Oh, Cosette if it had not been
for you, we never, never, never should have found
our dear Max again! Oh, Cosette, you are the
best and dearest kitty in the world "


S.-I ,, (Adaptedfrom a Sicilian Legend.)


THERE was a merchant-so the tale is told-
Who dwelt in Sicily, in a seaport town;
F IAnd he had store of silver and of gold,
Of gems and ivory, and of spices brown.
i ---- No king, indeed, who ever wore the crown
.Ii--'S' And held the scepter over Sicily
-- Had greater wealth or costlier house than he.

f- / This merchant had one child, a daughter fair-
.. .No golden coin of all his treasury
-- Gleamed bright as Caterina's golden hair;
," '"" ". No ivory column of his house might be
More white and straight and slender than was she;
Well-skilled she was in every household art,
Modest and brave, and of a pious heart.

One night, as Caterina sat alone,
The silver lamp burned suddenly more bright
And at her side there stood a shining one,
A woman, tall and garmented in white;
And Caterina started in affright.
/ Fear me not," said the stranger, I am late,
But I am come at last-behold your Fate !"

(For in those ancient times it was believed
That every newborn soul which came to earth
Had its own Fate, and from her hands received
Alternate good and evil from its birth;
And with the ceaseless turning of the girth
Of Fate's most variable and inconstant wheel,
Mortals were given their part of woe and weal.)


'~'' ''.- ::,
~.. 4~ ..1~
; -
.~ ..



With gentle act did Caterina rise;
The immortal woman did her wheel arrest,
And looking on the maid with serious eyes,
Said to her, Tell me now which thing were
In youth to suffer, and in age have rest;
Or, first have joy, then sorrow. What shall be
For youth and what for age? -the choice is free."

" Hardly," said Caterina, can I tell,
Since grief at any time is hard to bear.
Yet surely, as I think of it, 't were well

In my late years to take of good my share
And end my life not laden down with care.
Yea, in my youth the will of Heaven be done."
" A wiser choice than this," said Fate," were none."

And soon to make the olden tale more brief-
To the rich merchant sorry things befell:
The pirates burned the ships that bore the chief
Of all his ventures; he was forced to sell
His goods, estate, the house where he did dwell;
And wounded in his heart and in his pride,
He turned his face against the wall, and died.



So all alone was Caterina left;
An orphan, penniless and without a home;
And since her hands to sew and spin were deft


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She would take service, howso wearisome,
And forth she went. At last she saw, being come
Before the houses of a distant town,
A woman from a window looking down.

Poor Caterina felt her heart more bold
Because this woman had a kindly face;
And, while the tears from her sad eyelids rolled,
She pleaded thus: I pray you, of your grace,
In your great house give me a little place,
To be your handmaiden and sew and spin."
The dame had pity of her, and took her in.

One day, the mistress left alone her maid
To keep the house ; and broidering leaf and
Upon fine linen, Caterina stayed
Content and busy in her little room,
When on the sunlight fell a sudden gloom
As when a cloud arises full of rain -
And Caterina's Fate appeared again !
With furious hands she threw the basket down
Of colored threads, and tossed them here and
And from a carven chest she took the gown
Of crimson silk the dame was wont to wear
On feast-days, and with all her force did tear
It into rags ; nor did she spare to spoil
The linen wrought by Caterina's toil.
Then, as the Fate stood still at
i" 'last, amid
I. The ruin that her envious
hands had made,
Poor Caterina fled the house, and
S hid
i i Among the brambles in a
field,- afraid
Of heavy blame that might on
her be laid.
---'. -Later she rose, and wandered
sadly down
The road that led her to an-
other town.

The maiden gone, at once, with-
out delay
The Fate began her ravage to
set right.
The silken gown, made whole, was
laid away,
^ The broidery appeared untorn
and bright.
And when the mistress home-
ward came at night,
All was in order set, and to her
mind -
But Caterina never could she find.



The maid again took service; and again
Came Fate to seek her, tearing as before
Her well-wrought linen web. Seven years in vain,
Driven by her Fate forth from each friendly door,
She wandered to new cities; and once more
Became the handmaid of a noble dame,
And day with day her duty was the same.

Once, when her daily task was done, at night
She wandered, lonely, up a mountain way,
And in a cavern saw a flickering
Within the hollow of the

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Then Caterina-
by her grief
made bold,
Weary with service
and with misery
And weeping for her happ
time of old
When she was like a pri
Pleaded: "MycruelFate
Grieve me no longer, be a
And bring my heavy sorro

Beneath her coverlid the drowsy Fate
Stirred languidly, while Caterina spoke
In piteous words her painful case to state
And tell how grief her patient spirit broke.
At last from dreams forgetful, Fate awoke:
Preserve my gift and it shall bring thee gain,"
She said, and gave the maid a silken skein.

Then down the hill did Caterina go,
Yet was the heart within her nowise glad;
And when to her good mistress she
would show
SThe gift that from relenting Fate she
r, -1, ne were
,.'T .," 1,. i" rhr.:, -, u!,--i' onew ere

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*;,' .l.:. .' I i.. beat the
S i i ,

cymbals loud,
,i .r I "* Strew roses, roses, every-
S where around!
Cry, heralds, and proclaim to
all the crowd
S To-day the Heir of Sicily shall
y be crowned!
But now a message comes,
ncessmournfully with sadder sound:
, have mercyon me, He can not place the crown upon
t last mey friend his head,
Slast my friend Without his robe, unsewn for
w to an end!" lack of thread.





-, I



2---- -
ft z-S

Throughout the realm of Sicily they sought
To match the color of the coat, in vain;
No thread was found. The garment lay
unwrought o
Withoutit; and the prince declared again,
Uncrowned and scepterless would he re-
Nor ever seat himself upon the throne
Until his coronation robe were done.

Then Caterina's mistress to her said:
Is not thy skein of silk the very hue
Required to sew the royal robe, my maid?"
And Caterina, taking heart anew,
Carried her skein of silk, as sapphire blue,
To prove it with the garment of the king-
And silken thread and cloth seemed one same

The prince commanded then the treasurer
To bring the scales and weigh the weight in gold
Of Caterina's skein, and give it her.
VOL. XV.-38.


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One golden coin and then one more was told-
The silk was heavier. Streams of money rolled
From wide-mouthed sacks; andin the scale was laid
All Sicily's treasure. Still the silk outweighed.

Then all his gems the prince, much marveling,
Offered; his wealth of ruby, emerald, pearl;
He bade the treasurer, most reluctant, bring
Diamonds, and opals with strange fires that curl,
And weigh them for the payment of the girl.
Still were they all too light. At last the crown
Was added to them and the scale went down 1

.h ;

1--.-_~. -.--;
j "~


Then cried the knights and ladies: Lo, behold
That this poor maid shall be a Queen, the sign !
For not the weight of all the royal gold
And jewels could, without the crown, combine
To balance her small skein! She shall be
Mine own dear Queen the Heir of Sicily cried,
And Caterina was the royal bride.

Sound ye the trumpets, heat the cymbals loud,
Strew roses, roses, everywhere around!
Cry, heralds, and proclaim to all the crowd
The King of Sicily a fair bride has found !

Lay cloth of gold upon the very ground
That they may walk thereon in royal state -
Praise to Queen Caterina and her Fate !

- S

r.. -

-';?e, "



WHEN little Teddy heard a merry bobolink,
He said, Mamma, that bird is laughing, I should think."

Still rang the wondrous song,
So varied, clear and strong,
Out in the sunny weather;
And listening Teddy cried,
Why I should think he tied
A lot of songs together "





IN the summer of 1880, when the first delegation
of enthusiastic politicians came trooping up from
the Mentor station through the lane that led to
"Lawnfield," in order to congratulate General
James A. Garfield on his nomination for the Presi-
dency, there was one member of the Garfield house-
hold who met the well-meaning but noisy strangers
with an air of astonishment and disapproval, and,
as they neared the house, disputed further approach
with menacing voice.
This was "Veto," General Garfield's big New-
foundland dog; and not untilhis master had called
to him that it was all right," and that he must
be quiet, did he cease hostile demonstrations.
After that, whenever delegations came and
they were of daily occurrence-Veto walked around
among the visitors, looking grave and sometimes
uneasy, but usually peaceful. General Garfield
was very fond of large, noble-looking dogs. Veto
was a puppy when given to him, but in two years'
time had grown to be an immense fellow, and
devotedly attached to his master. He was named
in honor of President Hayes's veto of a certain bill
in the spring of 1879.
The bill was one for abolishing the office of.
marshal at elections. It did not meet with the
President's approval, and he returned it to Con-
gress unsigned,- an action which greatly pleased
General Garfield, and suggested the name for his

Although quiet, as he had been bidden, Veto
was never reconciled to the public's invasion of the
Mentor farm. He was a dog of great dignity, and
could not but feel resentment at the familiarity of
the strangers who, on the strength of their political
prominence, overran his master's fields, spoiled
the fruit-trees, peered into the barns and poultry
yard, and were altogether over-curious and intru-
sive. He had been told that it was "all right";
but these actions by day, and the torchlights and
hurrahing by night, wore on his spirits and tem-
per. This evident unfitness for public life caused
a final separation from his beloved master; for
when, in the following spring, the family moved
to Washington to begin residence at the White
House, they thought it was not best to take Veto
with them, so he was left behind in Mentor.
Poor fellow all his doubts and fears for the
safety and peace of him he loved and guarded
were indeed well-founded. That first invasion of
Lawnfield was but the beginning of what was to
end in great calamity and bitter sorrow. Veto
never saw his master again.
After the death of General Garfield, Veto was
taken to Cleveland, 0., where he spent his re-
maining days in the family of J. H. Hardy--a
gentleman well known in that city.
Several anecdotes are related by Mr. Hardy
which prove the dog's great intelligence. He
slept in the barn, and seemed to consider him-
self responsible for the proper behavior of the
horses, and the safety of everything about the


barn. No one not belonging to the family was
allowed even to touch any article in it. Veto's
low thunder of remonstrance or dissent quickly
brought the curious or meddlesome to terms.
One night he barked loudly and incessantly.
Then, as this alarm signal passed unnoticed, he

-. .
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";' .'. :--

howled until Mr. Hardy was forced to dress and go
to the barn, where he found a valuable horse loose
and on a rampage. Veto had succeeded in seizing
the halter, and there he stood with the end in
his mouth, while the horse, disappointed of his
frolic and his expectation of unlimited oats, was
vainly jerking and plunging to get away.
Another time, upon returning late at night from
a county fair, the family heard Veto-who was

shut up in the barn -howling and scratching
frantically at the door. When it was opened, he
rushed directly to another barn some rods away,
belonging to and very near a house occupied by
a large family, who all were in bed and asleep.
He scratched at the door of this barn, keeping up
at the same time his dismal howl,
and paying no attention to the
repeated calls and commands to
comeback and behave himself.
Just as force was to be used to
quiet him, a bright tongue of flame
-. shot up through the roof of the
S barn, and, almost in an instant,
i / the whole structure was in a blaze.
Before the fire department reached
the spot the barn was consumed,
: '" and the house was saved from
destruction only through heroic
S efforts of the neighbors.
And so Veto's quick scent and
wonderful sagacity in, as we must
S believe, giving the alarm, not only
Ii' saved the house, but probably
averted serious loss of life.

SPEC" was a little terrier born
at Fort Hamilton, New York.
One day, while he was yet a puppy,
an army officer with two little
boys came to the kennel to choose
a dog for themselves. They picked
out Spec from a litter of puppies,
f as the brightest and prettiest, and
-bore him off in great glee to head-
quarters. The army officer was the
late General Robert E. Lee, of
P Virginia.
Not long after, the General was
ordered to Mexico; and Mrs. Lee
S and the children went to Arlington
to remain during his absence.
Spec went with them. While
General Lee was away, the little
dog showed no signs of missing
him, but when, after the long absence, he unex-
pectedly returned home, Spec happened to be the
first of the household to greet him. The little fellow
seemed crazy with delight. He jumped up, licked
his master's hands, and sprang around in so excited
a manner that notwithstanding the great joy of the
family he attracted the attention of all.
One of the General's little sons, now General W.
H. F. Lee, of Ravensworth, Virginia, writes: "I




have often heard my father say that he believed
the dog thoroughly recognized him, and was over-
joyed at his return."
Several years passed, and General Lee was or-
dered to West Point. Meanwhile Spec had grown
old, and was failing in mind as in body; else he
never would have strayed on board one of the New
Yorkexcursion boats that touch daily at West Point,
and allowed himself to be carried away to some
place from which he could not return. He was
never heard of afterward.
The whole family, most of whom had been his
playmates, long mourned for him, but none more
sincerely than his master.


"TYCHO BRAHE" was his full name, and he was
a bull-terrier living in the village of Vevay, Indiana.
He was given to Edward Eggleston when that
author was only six years old; and there never ex-
isted a more peaceable, good-natured, affectionate
dog, except when duty was involved; then he was
as stern and brave as a Roman sentinel.
Mr. Eggleston's father kept many horses and
dogs, and had a very classical taste in naming them
all; so such appellations as Hector," Messana,"
and Caesar became household words.
Edward was allowed to choose between Tal-
leyrand" and Tycho" as a name for his puppy,
and selected the latter because the first one, to
his childish imagination, sounded too much like
"tallow," and suggested candles.
Tycho early showed extraordinary sagacity,
and, as befitted a dog bearing the name of a great
astronomer, clearly understood the difference be-
tween day and night. He was never known to
express any opposition to the coming of a visitor
in the daytime, but when once darkness set in no
stranger could enter the door-yard. He did not
bite, he only stood still and growled; and no one
was ever known to disregard that warning; but
when the person at the gate called the name of
any one of the family, or was recognized by the
dog, no further opposition was made.
Once he was left alone for two days in charge
of the house, and for forty-eight hours stood guard
on the doorstep, which he never left except when
called by a neighbor to be fed.
Mr. Eggleston says: "I have had other dog-
friends, but Tycho was the noblest, and I shall
always remember him with affection." And yet
he lost his life by an act of folly. A vagabond
dog went through the street one day, and the
more respectable of the canine family pitched into
him for bringing the race into discredit-or for
violating some other rule of dog propriety.

Tycho rushed in with the rest. A week or two
later, the poor fellow moped; then he gnawed the
bark of a peach-tree, snapped at those who spoke
to him, and showed other signs of being rabid.
He died, as such dogs do, by means of a neigh-
bor's gun, and all the family wept bitterly for the
dear old fellow, who had been their companion
for eight years, and made strong resolutions never
again to set their hearts on a dog.


OUR beloved Quaker poet was a farmer's son,
and therefore was brought up among dogs and
horses and cattle, and became fond of them all.
He is rich in dogs. At Oak Knoll, where he
spends his summers, he has three: Roger, Robin,
and Dick. As he could be none other than a
kind, gentle master, we can readily imagine how
these three dogs adore him; and how, when he
returns to Oak Knoll in the spring, they greet him
with frantic barks and yelps of delight, with rap-
turous waggings and thumpings of tails.
Roger guards the barns; Dick is a Scotch ter-
rier; and Robin is a shepherd-dog. The latter
two are the more favored because, being house-
dogs, they have opportunities for intimacy with
the poet not possible to Roger. They can more
frequently watch their master's face for signs of
loving recognition, can insinuate a nose between
his book and eyes, or with ever-ready tongue
take a dog's loving liberty with his hand. But we
presume there are no jealousies on that account,
nor heart-burnings, and that all are good friends,
leading lives of gentle dignity befitting the dogs
of John G. Whittier, the poet of peace.


PETER TRONE, ESQ.," was a little black-and-
tan terrier living in Cleveland, Ohio, whose deeds
and qualities often have been chanted in unpub-
lished prose and verse by his gifted mistress, Con-
tance Fenimore Woolson.
Peter Trone, Esq., had many accomplishments
and many cultivated tastes. He was fond of grapes
and knew the proper time to eat them. After din-
ner he would help himself to dessert, probably
thinking that he had been forgotten. His mistress
often watched him while he did this. He would
trot slowly down the path that led by the trellis,
selecting and biting off, as he passed, a particularly
fine grape.
He could fish Once, in the country, when Miss
Woolson's young brother had unexpectedly caught
a large fish over a dam, and was puzzled to know
how he should draw the fish up with a slender line,



Peter Trone, Esq., in great excitement, plunged
into the water below the dam, caught the fish in
his mouth and brought it to the boy.
He could carry a note tied to his collar to a dis-
tant place, take it to the person for whom it was
intended, wait for the answer, and bring it safely

proper to the occasion was furnished before the
services began.
At the appointed hour, the Woolson children and
their cousins walked in procession to the grave,
which was made in the garden. Old Turk was
lowered into his last resting-place, his yellow paws


back. He needed but little training in order to do
anything within a dog's possibilities, and Miss
Woolson never discovered the limits of his wonder-
ful intelligence.
Pete Trone, Esq., could walk a long distance on
his little hind legs. The Woolson children made
him a pair of scarlet trousers, a little scarlet coat,
and a scarlet cap and feather. It was a funny sight
to see him marching on his hind legs down Euclid
Avenue arrayed in these garments. He was very
proud of them.
The family had two other dogs,-who were, of
course, Pete's most intimate friends,-" Old Turk"
and little "Grip." Turk was a magnificent old fel-
low, and well known in Cleveland. He lived a
long life, and when it was ended, the children
held a funeral over him.
All the dogs in the neighborhood were formally
invited, by card. They began to arrive early in the
morning, and were tied to different trees in the
yard; and so most of the howling and mourning

folded, his breast covered with flowers, and his
requiem, composed by Miss Woolson, sung to the
tune of Old Dog Tray." All the dogs were then
brought up to take a last look at the old patriarch.
Pete Trone, Esq., was chief mourner.


THIS charming writer for ST. NICHOLAS is an
enthusiastic lover of dogs. She has had in the
course of her life several canine pets, all as nat-
urally would be expected of anything belonging to
the author of Little Lord Fauntleroy "- very in-
teresting animals. Each is declared to have been
thoroughly original in his manner and ways, and
quite unlike the others; and all have been conspic-
uous figures in her personal history.
The first great sorrow of her childhood, amount-
ing in her eyes to an awful tragedy, was occasioned
by love of a dog. Some one gave her a New-

*In a note Mr. Whittier says, the dog, as shown in this picture, happens to be "lying at the foot of the largest
Norway spruce in New England. "-ED. ST. NICHOLAS.




foundland puppy, named Rollo,-a black ball of for after Mrs. Burnett's sister Edith had beguile
curls which tumbled over its own legs and was him to go home with her, he at once settled dow
the "idol of her soul." Only ten days after he and became a reformed domestic character wl
came-to her, and while she was wild with the first adored every member of the family.
rapture of possession, a covetous boy, who had But there was one flaw in his otherwise perfe
vainly tried to beg or buy the puppy, sent a servant demeanor,- he would fight. As soon as he sa
to borrow him to show some one, and never re- another dog, particularly if it was large, he aro
turned him. How he managed to evade all demand with a mild and forbearing expression, apparent
or inquiry, she never understood. It was all a dark without any prejudice or bitterness of feeling, ar
mystery ; but she mourned so passionately and went out and tried to obliterate that dog from tl
persistently over her lost dog that her mother be- face of the earth. He then would return cover
came alarmed about her, and hastened to secure with wounds and glory, wearing an apologeti
another one to take his place in her affections, even remorseful air, especially when Edith scold
This was an exquisite little Italian greyhound him well, pointing out the folly of such behavi
named Florence, who remained her friend and and what a disgrace he was to the family.
companion for years. such times he would thump his tail unceasing
When Mrs. Burnett was a child her family lived on the floor and look from under his eyelid
in Tennessee. There they had-as she expressed greatly embarrassed; but he always attended
it-"colonies ofdogs," many ofthem disreputable the next dog as impartially as though he nev
ones, that came and asked to stay, or stayed with- had been remonstrated with in his life. If no
out asking -any way to insinuate themselves into came to the house he would sally forth to se
thehousehold. One ofthesewasdubbed "Pepper," them, and this conduct finally brought disast
because of his touchy, contradictory disposition, upon him.
which led to habits and ways that were sources of The house stood on a hill. At the foot of it liv
great amusement to the children. He followed a "colored" dog, named Tige, owned by son
Mrs. Burnett's brother home one day, and inti- negroes. The children could not decide wheth
mated that he had come to remain. He pretended or not it was a matter of race prejudice, but the
to be a dog who was highly strung and sensitive, was a feud existing between Tige and Mr. K
and that these traits had not been appreciated where Whenever they met, which was two or three tim
he came from, but the children soon discovered a week, they fought and Tige always was beate
that his sensitiveness was but temper. Finally, this so exasperated him, that he held
The moment he was reproved for improper con- consultation with his friends. The children we
duct, he went out of the front door and
trotted home to the other family, who lived ..
about four miles away. The children
would stand on the piazza to watch him
till he was out of sight. He had a long
hill to trot over, and the intolerant scorn
expressed by his tail and little hind legs,
as he jogged along, never deigning to cast
a glance behind, showed in the most
scathing manner that, in his opinion, the
family he had turned his back upon were : -
people of no refinement of sentiment what- ..; r
ever, and could not be expected to under-" --
stand the feelings of a dog of real delicacy. -
He always went away when lectured; and -
probably came back whenever the other
family did not approve of his actions, "PETE TRONE, ESQ., MISS CONSTANCE FENIMORE WOOLSON'S DOG.
because he kept running away and coming
back for a year or two; finally, however, decid- convinced that he did so, because several tim
ing that the children were worthiest of his con- they saw dogs talking together in twos and three
tinued patronage. But their principal dog at that and wondered what the discussion was aboi
time-their staple dog-was Mr. K.," a big, The result was that these dogs attacked Mr. K
yellow canine who, when found, was living a wild in a body, and left him for dead in a pool of water
life in the woods, not far from the house. He had but he crawled home, scarcely alive, and cover
been a dog of bad reputation, evidently undeserved, with mud and gore.








The children nursed him all the following
winter; for rheumatism set in, and he had to be
kept in a corner of the kitchen wrapped in a blanket
and covered with hot stove-plates, which Edith
considered good for his complaint. And when any
one said, sympathetically, "Poor Mr. K.! an
innate sense of politeness led him to acknowledge
the attention by trying to rise and wag his tail,
whereupon all the stove-plates would roll off and
clatter on the floor.
Poor fellow The fighting mania that was so
implanted in his constitution proved his destruc-
tion. One day he rushed out to attack a howling
dog that was running past the house, and when he
returned was so bitten that he had to be killed,
and the children all cried themselves ill.
In later years, Mrs. Burnett has had at different
times three other dogs. The first was a Chihuahua
puppy, sent to her from Mexico; and when he ar-
rived he weighed only a pound and three-quarters.
But she was away from home at the time, and he
took advantage of her absence to grow. He was
always very much ashamed of it afterwards, and
when she returned, and he saw how disappointed
she was at his size, it seemed to depress him and
make him anxious to hide in corners. His remorse
was so evident that Mrs. Burnett tried to encourage
him by pretending that she did not care so very
much, and that, for all she cared, he might have
been even larger. But he was never happy, and
so she gave him to a little girl who had never ex-
pected him to be smaller.
The gentleman who had presented him to Mrs.
Burnett was very much disgusted with him. He
felt that the dog had betrayed his confidence, and
to make up for this duplicity, and to console Mrs.
Burnett, he sent her a beautiful Japanese pug
named "Toto," with fluffy, silken, black and white
hair, a tail like a curled feather, the shortest, pug-
giest black nose, and the largest, rounded eyes
imaginable. He kept his pink tongue always

thrust out of the right side of his mouth with a
most derisive air, and he was lovely !- but he had
no soul. He loved nobody, and cared for nothing
but his scarlet and yellow satin bows, his dinner,
and his cushion. He died at a hospital, where
he had been sent to be treated when taken ill.
Mrs. Burnett's present dog is an English pug,
upon whose collar is engraved, "Monsieur le
He came to her as a puppy, and she has had him
for years. He began life with a nature too frank
and ingenuous, and Mrs. Burnett has seen him de-
velop from a confiding puppy of impulse into a pug
of the world. They are great friends and confide in
each other freely, but the dog mingles in society
more than he did in the first flush of their affection.
Mrs. Burnett has been very ill; consequently they
have been separated, and he has had to entertain
himself with the world. He is a very interesting
little animal, and his pretty ways and intelligent
tricks would fill a volume.
While Mrs. Burnett was convalescing in Nahant
last summer, she wrote:
"Just now I am greatly interested in a small,
shaggy, yellow dog which, about once a day-
usually in the evening--trots with serious mien
through the grounds. He comes in the gateway
at one end of the avenue, and goes out at the other.
He looks neither to right nor left, and utterly
ignores all blandishments, however seductive. He
seems absorbed in deep reflection, and to have
some business project in view. As I am a visitor
only, I don't know him. I don't know where he
comes from or where he goes. I cannot decide
whether he is an unsocial dog, or a proud dog, or
a reserved dog, or simply a busy dog, with care
and responsibilities. Sometimes I imagine that
he goes to meet a friend who is indisposed, or
that he has been expecting a letter of impor-
tance, and calls regularly at the post-office for the


Said a poor little do Without apy hair,
I "It seernS tio rpe to be Very uptair
I That/sbould be such ap odd copceit,
While rry Triepd iS coleped Iron? ears to teet."




AMMY, what 's 'Mor-
ial Day for?"
Mammy stood in
the cabin doorway
with arms akimbo,
$ the sunset light shining
on her broad, kindly face,
and lighting up the gay
.. handkerchief she wore
about her head. She took
the short pipe from her
mouth as she good-na-
,r turedly answered the boy:
"Laws, honey ain't
you 'member dat yet? I
done tole you more 'n forty
times, fo' sure. 'Bout de
c,3c men who died, don't you
know ? Dat's what it means."
S Joe did n't appear to be much
enlightened. De men who
died?" he repeated questioningly, look-
ing up with those bright eyes of his.
He was the blackest little specimen that ever
was. The ace of spades was nothing to him-
"Charcoal would make a white mark on him."
But the white teeth gleamed, and the big eyes
shone, and the woolly hair knotted itself into the
funniest little fuzz you ever did see. As for his
costume, it was n't much to boast of; nothing but
rags, and not too many of them. But Joe did n't
care,-not he He was as free as the birds, and
lived as careless and irresponsible a life. When
the sun shone, and all was bright, he rejoiced as
they did; when it was cold and dismal, he crept
into his own little nest of a cabin, rolled himself
up in all the rags he could gather, curled into a
small heap, as close to the fire as he could get,
and waited for fair weather.
He had two treasures : Jack, a thin, gaunt, yel-
low cur (I really can't call him anything else),
and Billy, an old goat once white, but not at all
particular about his present appearance, and with
the beard of a patriarch. Belonging with Billy was
a cart made of an old box perched between two
wheels much too high for it, and with a board
nailed across, on which Joe would sit as proudly
as any dandy young Englishman in his dog-cart.

This wagon was usually perilously loaded with
"light-wood," picked up here and there; and to
see Joe driving over the rough, uneven sidewalks,
now on the planks, now off; now with a wheel
caught in a crack, now tilting over so far that one
wondered the whole rickety concern did n't go to
destruction altogether,- really, it was an exciting
experience. Jack was usually in close attendance,
trotting as close behind the cart as the sharp ends
of the light-wood, stuck in all sorts of ways, would
permit. In this rig Joe would drive along certain
streets which he considered his special property,
and try to sell his cargo. Sometimes he got five
or ten cents; sometimes, if nobody happened to
want anylight-wood, he still got something to eat.
In one place there was a lady from "up north."
She always gave him doughnuts, but she wanted
him to learn to read and spell, and Joe suspected
her of designs to enforce this desire. So he usually
steered clear of her, preferring corn-bread and
Mammy took in washing, when she could get it,
carrying the full basket poised on her head as she
went and came. She went out scrubbing and
cleaning, too, whenever her services were called
for. They earned little, but they wanted little. It
was a miserable, shiftless way of living, but then
it was the best they knew, and as long as they
were neither cold nor hungry, they were perfectly
content, and found life good, as the birds and
squirrels do.
The cabin was a small log affair with bare
ground all about it not very tidy, certainly.
The wooden shutter was thrown back, and the
sunshine streamed pleasantly in at the window,
which boasted neither sash nor glass. The open
door sagged a.good deal, and the whole place had
that unmistakable darky look about it, everywhere.
A few hens and some half-grown chickens roamed
about, and a little black pig followed his own sweet
will hither and yon, not disdaining the shelter of
the cabin when it pleased him. And, indeed, why
should he? He was one of the family, and Joe,
at least, always gave him cordial welcome. He
was n't quite so sure of Mammy's.
It was seldom that Joe troubled himself or
Mammy with questions of any kind; but to-day
he had happened to hear two women talking of


Memorial Day, and something about the procession
and flowers. Now, if there was anything Joe
loved, it was a procession- and who did n't?
Why, there was n't a darky for miles around that
did n't turn out to see every one that marched. A
circus was a wild delight. Joe had only seen one
procession of that kind, and it had remained ajoy
forever. But he was n't critical; a wedding or a
funeral, so there was a procession, was a joy to
him. Of course he had seen several Memorial
Days, but he took little note of time, and some-
how it had never occurred to him before that they
recurred regularly like Christmas,- the one great
holiday. And now he wanted to know what for. So
Mammy told once more, and very graphic she made
the story. Unfortunately, she had had a very
harsh master, in slavery days, and she 'drew so
vivid a picture of how Joe would have had to "'stan'
roun' if ole marse had got hold of him, that
the boy looked apprehensively about for that
dread personage, and was much relieved to know
that he was dead. Killed in de war, honey, like
all de rest." And then she told of the com-
ing of the Northern army-"Marse Linkum's
men "- and of the brave soldiers some of them
mere boys who laid down their lives there, the
men who died," and who slept peacefully enough
under the pines, with all discord over at last.
And Joe, as she told of the day set apart to keep
their memory green, resolved that he, too, would
march in the procession to-morrow and carry
flowers for the men who died."
He did n't say anything to Mammy of that,
though, for he knew she would object. Laws,
honey! she would say, you ain't got no legs fo'
dat"; and, indeed, poor Joe's crippled limbs and
limping gait were poorly fitted for processions,
however willing his stout heart might be. No, he
would n't say a word; but he 'd get up early to-
morrow, and go for flowers,-there were gay
pink and yellow ones in the swamp, way up the
Branch -a long way for him to hobble, but he
knew of none nearer. Then he 'd get back in time
to join the procession, and would carry his posy
with the biggest of them. Mammy 'd be proud
enough when she saw him there.
So he and Jack were astir betimes, and soon
toiling along the dusty road. It was a bright,
warm morning, and Joe sang like a little black-
bird as he limped along; past the log cabins like
his own, where swarms of children were already
about, and dogs of all sizes came yelping out, and
gave them noisy welcome; past the broad fields
where lately the kale and spinach had been cut,
where the level country stretched away on either
hand, unbroken by wall or fence, the boundary
lines being ditches or low hedges, till he turned

off to follow the Branch, only a narrow creek,
up into the swamp lands where the flowers grew.
Oh, what a wealth of them, as if on purpose for
Joe -all he had hoped and more. He picked and
picked, meantime looking warily about for moc-
casons. His posy would be the biggest and gayest
of them all, he said to himself, as at last he tied
his flowers into a great, straggling bunch with a
strip torn from his rags. Rags are very convenient,
sometimes. He was tired now, and the sun was
hot, but there was no time to lose; so, trying care-
fully to shield his precious posies with his torn hat,
he shuffled along, bare-headed, the weary way
Jack had been rushing about everywhere; back
and forth, here, there, and yonder, now diving
under the bushes, now jumping the creek; but he,
too, was tired now and followed close behind
Joe, panting very dejectedly, paying no heed to
anything about him-as if he were a mournful
procession on his own account; and so, at last,
they reached home.
The old goat slumbered in the doorway, and
the little black pig scurried away with shrill squeals,
as Jack, roused again, made a dash for him. But
Jack was only in fun, and piggy knew that very
well. He was squealing only to carry out his part
of the performance.
Mammy had gone out, too well accustomed to
Joe's vagabond roamings to wonder where he was.
There was corn-bread on the shelf, and potatoes,
too; and Joe and Jack ate their breakfast together
as soon as the flowers had been put in water. Joe
hid them behind the cabin. He wanted to sur-
prise Mammy. She did n't know he was big
enough to march in the procession with the rest.
Later in the day the dreary little procession was
moving slowly along the narrow, dusty streets of
the straggling Southern town, toward the road lead-
ing to the cemetery where "the men who died"
had their humble graves. It was a meager little
procession, indeed. A drum and fife furnished
the music; there were a few white men who led,
and then a straggling line of colored people, men
and women, too, each carrying a little bunch of
flowers; and behind them all hobbled little Joe.
Even their slow pace was too fast for him, weary
and foot-sore as he was; but he struggled bravely
to keep up, and held his head high, and carried his
big posy proudly,- the biggest of all, as he had
thought it would be. But no ; Joe was n't quite
the last one-Jack was last, close behind Joe, and
much impressed with the dignity of the occasion.
Ah how shall I tell the rest? The little pro-
cession had just passed a narrow cross-street, and
there, hidden by the buildings on either side, a
carriage had paused, the spirited horse held in



with difficulty till the slow line filed past. It
dashed forward impatientlywhen the way was clear,
and then there was a scream from the spectators,
a rush to the street as the horse flew by, and in
the dust lay little Joe, bleeding and senseless, the


Mt. ,- I.

Ct, 11

- -- I
-4-. .1.5 4
S-, L 2z.
F- -r-

few minutes later, "'Morial Day and all days on
earth for little Joe were over !
In the quiet, lonely field where the colored people
lay their dead is a narrow little grave, and there,
still, as Memorial Day comes round, poor Mammy

7 -- -' '
r -


A I .
," -' ''- ; "i

AN :1
-I __ .I
.2 _


big bouquet still clenched fast in his poor little brings her flowers and lays them down with bitter
hand. tears for the boy who was her last and dearest
They picked him up, and carried him into aware- care. And Jack looks wistfully into her face, and
house close by, and, as they laid the little fellow whines and lays his head down upon the grave as
down, and Mammy, with wild sobs and wails, took if begging the child to come again.
him tenderly in her arms, he slowly opened his But Joe sleeps peacefully, like the brave men he
eyes, and feebly tried to put the flowers into her would have honored; and some day, we trust, in
hand. that brighter world, Mammy shall have her boy
"De men -who died," he said, faintly, and, a again, and Joe be lame no more, forever !





S fy'-M and Maggie
4 Tulliver lived
with their par-
Scents at Dorlcote
Mill, a pictur-
S.-. esque old place
Son the river
caa- Floss. Tom was
She elder, and
though he was not
Sn.o intelligent as Mag-
.n many people liked
scu- of t., t much better, be-

.-.t the peculiarities
n.. t.ch made Maggie
-.. cn different from
I other children. "'He
aT : one of those lads
-s- h., c grow everywhere
in England, and, at
twelve or thirteen years of age, look as much alike
as goslings -a lad with light-brown hair, cheeks
of cream and roses, full lips, indeterminate nose
and eyebrows -a physiognomy in which it seems
impossible to discern anything but the generic
character of boyhood; as different as possible
from poor Maggie's phiz, which nature seemed to
have molded and colored with the most decided
Mr. and Mrs. Tulliver were given to frequent
discussions of their two children, the father always
taking the part of his little favorite Maggie, over
whom Mrs. Tulliver used to sigh and shake her
head, because she was so odd and unmanageable,--
and the mother always extolling the eldest-born,
Tom,--whom Mr. Tulliver, in spite of his fatherly
affection, considered "a bit slowish."
The little un takes after my side, now,' said
Mr. Tulliver, in the course of one of these dis-
cussions; 'she 's twice as 'cute as Tom. Too
'cute for a woman, I 'm afraid. It's no
mischief much while she 's a little un.'
"' Yes it is a mischief while she 's a little un,
Mr. Tulliver, for it all runs to naughtiness. How
to keep her in a clean pinafore two hours together
passes my cunning. An', now you put me i'

mind,' continued Mrs. Tulliver, rising and going
to the window, 'I don't know where she is now,
an' it 's pretty nigh tea-time. Ah I thought
so--wanderin' up an' down by the water like a
wild thing: she'll tumble in some day.'
"Mrs. Tulliver rapped the window sharply,
beckoned and shook her head a process which
she repeated more than once before she returned
to her chair.
'You talk o' cuteness, Mr. Tulliver,' she ob-
served as she sat down, but I 'm sure the child 's
half an idiot i' some things; for if I send her up-
stairs to fetch anything, she forgets what she 's
gone for, an' perhaps 'ull sit down on the floor i'
the sunshine, an' plait her hair an' sing to herself
like a Bedlam creature all the while I'm waiting
for her downstairs. That nivir runs i' my family,
thank God, no more nor a brown skin as makes
her look like a mulatter. I don't like to fly i' the
face o' Providence, but it seems hard as I should
have but one gell, an' her so comical.'
'Pooh! nonsense said Mr. Tulliver; 'she's
a straight black-eyed wench as anybody need wish
to see. I don't know i' what she 's behind other
folks's children; and she can read almost as well as
the parson.'
But her hair.won't curl all I can do with it,
and she's so franzy about having it put i' paper,
and I have such work as never was to make her
stand and have it pinched with th' irons.'
Cut it off-cut it off short,' said the father
How can you talk so, Mr. Tulliver? She's
too big a gell, gone nine, and tall of her age, to
have her hair cut short; an' there 's her cousin
Lucy 's got a row o' curls round her head an' not
a hair out o' place. It seems hard as my sister
Deane should have that pretty child; I'm sure
Lucy takes more after me nor my own child does.
Maggie, Maggie,' continued the mother, in a tone
of half-coaxing fretfulness, as this small mistake of
nature entered the room, 'where 's the use o' my
telling you to keep away from the water ? You '11
tumble in and be drowned some day, an' then
you 'll be sorry you did n't do as mother told you.'
"Maggie's hair, as she threw off her bonnet,
painfully confirmed her mother's accusation: Mrs.

* Mill on the Floss."


Tulliver, desiring her daughter to have a curled
crop like other folks's children,' had had it cut too
short in front to be pushed behind the ears; and
as it was usually straight an hour after it had been
taken out of paper, Maggie was incessantly toss-
ing her head to keep the dark, heavy locks out
of her gleaming black eyes-an action which gave
her very much the air of a small Shetland pony.
Oh dear, oh dear, Maggie, what are you
thinking' of, to throw your bonnet down there ?
Take it upstairs, there's a good gell, an' let your
hair be brushed, an' put your other pinafore on,
an' change your shoes do, for shame; an' come
an' go on with your patchwork, like a little lady.'
"'Oh mother,' said Maggie in a vehemently
cross tone, 'I don't want to do my patchwork.'
What! not your pretty patchwork, to make a
counterpane for your Aunt Glegg ? '
It's foolish work,' said Maggie, with a toss of
her mane-' tearing things to pieces to sew 'em
together again. And I don't want to do anything
for my Aunt Glegg I don't like her.'
Exit Maggie, dragging her bonnet by the
string, while Mr. Tulliver laughs audibly."
A few days later Mr. Riley, a neighbor of Mr.
Tulliver's, happened to come to the house, and
in a conversation which followed, Maggie heard
these words :
"'It's a very particular thing. .it's about
my boy Tom.'
"At the sound of this name, Maggie, who was
seated on a low stool close by the fire, with a large
book open on her lap, shook her heavy hair
back and looked up eagerly. There were few
sounds that roused Maggie when she was dream-
ing over her book, but Tom's name served as well
as the shrillest whistle: in an instant she was on
the watch, with gleaming eyes, like a Skye terrier
suspecting mischief or, at all events, determined
to fly at any one who threatened it toward Tom.
You see, I want to put him to a new school
at Midsummer,' said Mr. Tulliver; 'he 's coming'
away from the academyy at Lady-day, an' I shall let
him run loose for a quarter; but after that I want
to send him to a downright good school, where
they'll make a scholard of him. I don't mean
Tom to be a miller and farmer. I see no fun i'
that: why, if I made him a miller an' farmer, he 'd
be expecting' to take to the mill an' the land, an'
a-hinting at me as it was time for me to lay by an'
think o' my latter end. Nay, nay, I 've seen
enough o' that wi' sons. I '11 never pull my coat
off before I go to bed. I shall give Tom an eddi-
cation an' put him to a business, as he may make
a nest for himself, an' not want to push me out o'
mine.' "
"This was evidently a point on which Mr.

Tulliver felt strongly, and the impetus which had
given unusual rapidity and emphasis to his speech
showed itself still unexhausted for some minutes
afterward in a defiant motion of the head from side
to side, and an occasional Nay, nay,' like a sub-
siding growl.
These angry symptoms were keenly observed
by Maggie, and cut her to the quick. Tom, it
appeared, was supposed capable of turning his
father out-of-doors, and of making the future in
some way tragic by his wickedness. This was
not to be borne; and Maggie jumped up from her
stool, forgetting all about her heavy book, which
fell with a bang within the fender; and, going up
between her father's knees, said, in a half-crying,
half-indignant voice,
"'Father, Tom would n't be naughty to you
ever; I know he would n't.' "
'What they must n't say any harm o' Tom,
eh ?' said Mr. Tulliver, looking at Maggie with a
twinkling eye. Then, in a lower voice, turning to
Mr. Riley, as though Maggie could n't hear,
'She understands what one 's talking about so as
never was. And you should hear her read-straight
off, as if she knowed it all beforehand. And allays
at her book But it's bad it 's bad,' Mr. Tul-
liver added, sadly, checking this blamable exulta-
tion; a woman's no business wi' being so clever;
it'll turn to trouble, I doubt. But, bless you .
she '11 read the books and understand 'em better
nor half the folks as are growed up.'
Maggie's cheeks began to flush with triumph-
ant excitement: she thought Mr. Riley would
have a respect for her now; it had been evident
that he thought nothing of her before.
Mr. Riley was turning over the leaves of the
book, and she could make nothing of his face,
with its high-arched eyebrows; but he presently
looked at her and said,
"' Come, come and tell me something about
this book; here are some pictures I want to
know what they mean.'
Maggie, with deepening color, went without
hesitation to Mr. Riley's elbow and looked over
the book, eagerly seizing one corner and tossing
back her mane, while she said,
"' Oh, I '11 tell you what that means. It's a
dreadful picture, is n't it ? But I can't help look-
ing at it. That old woman in the water 's a witch
they 've put her in to find out whether she 's a
witch or no, and if she swims she 's a witch, and if
she 's drowned -and killed, you know -she 's
innocent, and not a witch, but only a poor silly
old woman. But what good would it do her then,
you know, when she was drowned? Only, I sup-
pose, she 'd go to Heaven and God would make
it up to her. And this dreadful blacksmith with



his arms akimbo, laughing- oh, is n't he.ugly ?-
I '11 tell you what he is. He 's the devil really'
(here Maggie's voice became louder and more em-
phatic), 'and not a right blacksmith.'
Why, what book is it the wench has got hold
on?' burst out Mr. Tulliver at last.
When Mr. Riley named the work and added,
rather reproachfully, How came it among your
books, Tulliver?' Maggie looked hurt and dis-
couraged, while her father said,
Why, it's one o' the books I bought at Par-
tridge's sale. They was all bound alike- it 's a
good binding, you see -and I thought they 'd be
all good books. But it seems one must n't
judge by th' outside. This is a puzzlin' world.'
'Well,' said Mr. Riley, in an admonitory
patronizing tone, as he patted Maggie on the head,
'I advise you to read some prettier book. Have
you no prettier books? '
Oh yes,' said Maggie, reviving a little, in the
desire to vindicate the variety of her reading, 'I
know the reading in this book is n't pretty, but I
like the pictures, and I make stories to the pictures
out of my own head, you know. But I 've got
Esofp's Fables, and a book about kangaroos and
things, and the Pilgrim's- Progress.'"
'Ah a beautiful book,' said Mr. Riley; 'you
can't read a better.'
Well, but there's a great deal about the devil
in that,' said Maggie, triumphantly, 'and I '11
show you the picture of him in his true shape, as
he fought with Christian.'
"Maggie ran in an instant to the corner of the
room, jumped on a chair, and reached down from
the small bookcase a shabby old copy of Bunyan,
which opened at once, without the least trouble ot
search, at the picture she wanted.
"' Here he is,' she said, running back to Mr.
Riley, 'and Tom colored him for me with his
paints when he was at home last holidays--the
body all black, you know, and the eyes red, like
fire, because he 's all fire inside, and it shines out
at his eyes.'
"' 'Go, go !' said Mr. Tulliver." Shut up the
book and let 's hear no more o' such talk. It is as
I thought- the child '11 learn more mischief nor
good wi' the books. Go go and see after your
Maggie shut up the book at once, with a sense
of disgrace; but, not being inclined to see after
her mother, she compromised the matter by going
into a dark corner behind her father's chair, and
nursing her doll, toward which she had an occa-
sional fit of fondness in Tom's absence, neglecting
its toilette, but lavishing so many warm kisses on
it, that the waxen cheeks had a wasted, unhealthy

Mr. Tulliver's consultation with Mr. Riley re-
sulted in the determination to send Tom to school
to a Mr. Stelling, a clergyman who took a few boys
as pupils into his own home. Mrs. Tulliver was
called in, and after a great deal of discussion, the
thing seemed settled.
"'Father,' broke in Maggie, who had stolen
unperceived to her father's elbow again, listening
with parted lips, while she held her doll topsy-
turvy, and crushed its nose against the wood of
the chair 'Father, is it a long way off, where
Tom is to go? Sha'n't we ever go to see him?'
I don't know, my wench,' said the father,
tenderly. 'Ask Mr. Riley; he knows.'
Maggie came round promptly in front of Mr.
Riley, and said, How far is it, please, sir ?'
'Oh, a long, long way off.' 'You
must borrow the seven-leagued boots to get to
'That 's nonsense!' said Maggie, tossing her
head haughtily, and turning away with the tears
springing in her eyes. She began to dislike Mr.
Riley: it was evident that he thought her silly
and of no consequence.
'Hush, Maggie, for shame of you, asking ques-
tions and chattering,' said her mother. 'Come
and sit down on your little stool, and hold your
tongue, do.'"
So Maggie was obliged to be content without
any more exact information.
It was a heavy disappointment to Maggie that
she was not allowed to go with her father in the
gig when he went to fetch Tom home from the
academy; but the morning was too wet, Mrs.
Tulliver said, for a little girl to go out in her best
bonnet. Maggie took the opposite view very
strongly; and it was a direct consequence of this
difference of opinion that, when her mother was in
the act of brushing out the reluctant black crop,
Maggie suddenly rushed from under her hands
and dipped her head in a basin of water standing
near, in the vindictive determination that there
should be no more chance of curls that day.
'Maggie, Maggie,' exclaimed Mrs. Tulliver,
sitting stout and helpless, with the brushes on
her lap, 'what is to become of you if you 're so
naughty? I '11 tell your Aunt Glegg and your
Aunt Pullet, when they come next week, and
they '11 never love you any more. Oh dear, oh
dear, look at your clean pinafore, wet from top to
bottom.' "
Before this remonstrance was finished Maggie
was already out of hearing, making her way toward
the great attic that ran under the old high-pitched
roof, shaking the water from her black locks as
she ran, like a Skye terrier escaped from his bath.
This attic was Maggie's favorite retreat on a wet



day, when the weather was not too cold; here she
fretted out all her ill-humors, and talked aloud to
the worm-eaten floors and the worm-eaten shelves,
and the dark rafters festooned with cobwebs; and
here she kept a Fetish which she punished for all
her misfortunes. This was the trunk of a large
wooden doll, which once stared with the roundest
of eyes above the reddest of cheeks, but was now
entirely defaced." She had many a time soothed
herself by alternately grinding and beating the
wooden head against the rough brick of the great
chimneys that made two square pillars supporting
the roof. That was what she did this morning on
reaching the attic, sobbing all the while with a
passion that expelled every other form of con-
sciousness even the memory of the grievance
that had caused it. As at last the sobs were getting
quieter, and the grinding less fierce, a sudden
beam of sunshine, falling through the wire lattice
across the worm-eaten shelves, made her throw
away the Fetish and run to the window. The sun
was really breaking out; the sound of the mill
seemed cheerful again; the granary doors were
open; and there was Yap, the queer white and
brown terrier, with one ear turned back, trotting
about and snuffing vaguely as if he were in search
of companion. It was irresistible. Maggie tossed
her hair back and ran downstairs, seized her bon-
net without putting it on, peeped, and then dashed
along the passage lest she should encounter her
mother, and was quickly out in the yard, whirling
round and singing as she whirled, 'Yap,
Yap, Tom's coming home!' while Yap danced
and barked round her, as much as to say, if there
was any noise wanted, he was the dog for it.
Hegh, hegh, Miss, you'll make yourself giddy,
an' tumble down i' the dirt,' said Luke, the head
Maggie paused in her whirling, and said,
staggering a little, Oh no, it does n't make me
giddy, Luke; may I go into the mill with you?'
"Maggie loved to linger in the great spaces of
the mill, and often came out with her black hair
powdered to a soft whiteness that made her dark
eyes flash out with a new fire. The resolute din,
the unresting motion of the great stones .
the meal forever pouring, pouring the fine white
powder softening all surfaces, and making the very
spider-nets look like a faery lacework- the sweet
pure scent of the meal -all helped to make
Maggie feel that the mill was a little world apart
from her outside every-day life. The spiders were
especially a subject of speculation with her. She
wondered if they had any relations outside the
mill, for in that case there must be a painful diffi-
culty in their family intercourse- a fat and floury
spider, accustomed to take his fly well dusted with

meal, must suffer a little at a cousin's table where
the fly was au natural, and the lady-spiders must
be mutually shocked at each other's appearance.
But the part of the mill she liked best was the top-
most story -the corn-hutch, where there were the
great heaps of grain, which she could sit on and
slide down continually. She was in the habit of
taking this recreation as she conversed with Luke,
to whom she was very communicative, wishing him
to think well of her understanding, as her father
"Perhaps she felt it necessary to recover her
position with him on the present occasion, for, as
she sat sliding on the heap of grain near which he
was busying himself, she said, at that shrill pitch
which was requisite in mill-society,
"I think you never read any book but the
Bible did you, Luke ?'
Nay, Miss an' not much o' that,' said Luke,
with great frankness. 'I 'm no reader, I are n't.'
'But if I lent you one of my books, Luke ?
I've not got any very pretty books that would be
easy for you to read, but there 's Pug's Tour of
Eurofe -that would tell you all about the differ-
ent sorts of people in the world, and if you did n't
understand the reading, the pictures would help
you they show the looks and ways of people and
what they do. There are the Dutchmen, very fat,
and smoking, you know-and one sitting on a
"'Nay, Miss, I 'n no opinion o' Dutchmen.
There be n't much good i' known' about them.'
'But they're our fellow-creatures, Luke we
ought to know about our fellow-creatures.' "
"'Perhaps you would like Animated NVature
better: that 's not Dutchmen, you know, but ele-
phants, and kangaroos, and the civet cat, and the
sun-fish, and a bird sitting on its tail I forget its
name. There are countries full of those creatures,
instead of horses and cows, you know. Should n't
you like to know about them, Luke ?'
Nay, Miss, I 'n got to keep count o' the flour
an' corn-I can't do wi' known' so many things
besides my work.'"
Why you're like my brother Tom, Luke,' said
Maggie, wishing to turn the conversation agree-
ably; 'Tom's not fond of reading. I love Tom
so dearly, Luke -better than anybody else in the
world. When he grows up, I shall keep his house,
and we shall always live together. I can tell him
everything he does n't know. But I think Tom's
clever for all he does n't like books: he makes
beautiful whipcord and rabbit-pens.'
Ah said Luke, but he 'll be fine an' vexed
as the rabbits are all dead.'
Dead screamed Maggie, jumping up from
her sliding seat on the corn. 'Oh dear, Luke !



What! the lop-eared one, and the spotted doe
that Tom spent all his money to buy?'
As dead as moles,' said Luke."
'Oh dear, Luke,' said Maggie in a piteous
tone while the tears rolled down her cheek. 'Tom
told me to take care of 'em, and I forgot. What
shall I do? '
'Well, you see, Miss, they were in that far
tool-house, an' it was nobody's business to see to
'em. I reckon Master Tom told Harry to feed 'em,
but there 's no counting on Harry.' "
Oh, Luke, Tom told me to be sure and re-
member the rabbits every day; but how could I,
when they did n't come into my head, you know?
Oh, he will be so angry with me, I know he will,
and so sorry about his rabbits and so am I sorry.
Oh, what shall I do?'"
Tom was to arrive early in the afternoon, and
there was another fluttering heart besides Maggie's
when it was late enough for the sound of the gig-
wheels to be expected; for if Mrs. Tulliver had a
strong feeling, it was fondness for her boy. At last
the sound came,- the quick, light bowling of the
gig-wheels,--and in spite of the wind, which was
blowing the clouds about, and was not likely to
respect Mrs. Tulliver's curls and cap-strings, she
came outside the door and even held her hand on
Maggie's offending head, forgetting all the griefs
of the morning.
There he is, my sweet lad !' "
"Mrs. Tulliver stood with her arms open; Mag-
gie jumped first on one leg and then on the other;
while Tom descended from the gig, and said, with
masculine reticence as to the tender emotions,
'Hallo I Yap what! are you there ?' "
Nevertheless he consented to be kissed will-
ingly enough, though Maggie hung on his neck
in rather a strangling fashion, while his blue-gray
eyes wandered toward the croft, and the lambs,
and the river, where he promised himself that he
would begin to fish the first thing to-morrow
"'Maggie,' said Tom, confidentially, taking her
into a corner, as soon as his mother was gone out
to examine his box, and the warm parlor had taken
off the chill he had.felt from the long drive, you
don't know what I've got in my pockets,' nodding
his head up and down as a means of rousing her
sense of mystery.
'No,' said Maggie. 'How stodgy they look,
Tom! Is it marls (marbles) or cobnuts?' Mag-
gie's heart sank a little because Tom always said it
was 'no good' playing with her at those games-
she played so badly.
Marls no; I've swapped all my marls with
the little fellows, and cobnuts are no fun, you silly,
only when the nuts are green. But see here!'

and he drew something half out of his right-hand
"' What is it?' said Maggie, in a whisper. 'I
can see nothing but a bit of yellow.'
"'Why, it's a new guess,
"'Oh, I can't guess, Tom,' said Maggie im-
Don't be a spitfire, else I won't tell you,' said
Tom, thrusting his hand back in his pocket, and
looking determined.
"' No, Tom,' said Maggie, imploringly, laying
hold of the arm that was held stiffly in the pocket.
' I 'm not cross, Tom; it was only because I can't
bear guessing. Please be good to me.'
"Tom's arm slowly relaxed, and he said, 'Well,
then, it's a new fish-line,-two new uns,-one for
you, Maggie, all to yourself. I would n't go halves
in the toffee and gingerbread on purpose to save the
money; and Gibson and Spouncer fought with me
because I would n't. And here's hooks-see
here! I say, won't we go and fish to-
morrow down by Round Pool? And you shall
catch your own fish, Maggie, and put the worms
on, and everything: won't it be fun ?'
Maggie's answer was to throw her arms around
Tom's neck and hug him, and hold her cheek
against his without speaking, while he slowly un-
wound some of the line, saying, after a pause:
Was n't I a good brother, now, to buy you a
line all to yourself? You know, I need n't have
bought it if I had n't liked.'
Yes, very, very good. I do love you,
Tom had put the line back in his pocket, and
was looking at the hooks one by one before he
spoke again.
"' And the fellows fought me because I would
n't give in about the toffee.'
"'Oh dear! I wish they would n't fight at
your school, Tom. Did n't it hurt you ?'
"Hurt me? no,' said Tom, putting up the
hooks again, taking out a large pocket-knife, and
slowly opening the largest blade, which he looked
at meditatively as he rubbed his fingers along it.
Then he added,
I gave Spouncer black eye, I know that's
what he got by wanting to leather me; I was n't
going to go halves because anybody leathered
'Oh, how brave you are, Tom! I thiik you're
like Samson. If there came a lion roaring at me,
I think you'd fight him would n't you, Tom ?'
"'How can a lion come roaring at you, you
silly thing ? There 's no lions only in the shows.'
No; but if we were in the lion countries I
mean, in Africa, where it's very hot the lions eat



people there. I can show it you in the book where
I read it.'
'Well, I should get a gun and shoot him.'
"'But if you had n't got a gun -we might
have gone out, you know, not thinking, just as we
go fishing; and then a greatlion might run toward
us roaring, and we could n't get away from him.
What should you do, Tom?'
STom paused, and at last turned away con-

Oh, don't bother, Maggie i You 're such a
silly I shall go and see my rabbits.'
Maggie's heart began to flutter with fear. She
dared not tell the sad truth, at once; but she
walked after Tom in trembling silence as he went
out, thinking how she could tell him the news so
as to soften at once his sorrow and his anger; for
Maggie dreaded Tom's anger of all things it was
quite a different anger from her own.

---- --- 41
41. 44 4 4 .4.
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'BuI lie fi ti woul be_ s .id

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Maggie, following him. IJust think what you "' Two half-crowns and a sixpence,' said Tom,
would do, Tom.' promptly.
VOL. XV. -39
VOL.1111:i XV. --39.' '


I think I 've got a great deal more than that
in my steel purse upstairs. I '11 ask mother to
give it to you.'
What for ?' said Tom, I don't want your
money, you silly thing. I 've got a great deal
more money than you, because I 'm a boy. I
always have half-sovereigns and sovereigns for my
Christmas boxes, because I shall be a man, and
you only have five-shilling pieces, because you 're
only a girl.'
'Well, but, Tom -if mother would let me
give you two half-crowns and a sixpence out of my
purse to put into your pocket to spend, you know,
and buy some more rabbits with it ?'
More rabbits? I don't want any more.'
Oh, but, Tom, they 're all dead.'
"Tom stopped immediately in his walk and
turned round toward Maggie. You forgot to feed
'em, then, and Harry forgot,' he said, his color
heightening for a moment, but soon subsiding.
'I '11 pitch into Harry I '11 have him turned
away. And I don't love you, Maggie. You sha'n't
go fishing with me to-morrow. I told you to go
and see the rabbits every day.' He walked on
"'Yes, but I forgot-- and I could n't help it,
indeed, Tom. I 'm so very sorry,' said Maggie,
while the tears rushed fast.
'You 're a naughty girl,' said Tom, severely,
'and I 'm sorry I bought you the fish-line. I don't
love you.'
Oh, Tom, it 's very cruel,' sobbed Maggie.
I 'd forgive you if you forgot anything I would
n't mind what you did I'd forgive you and love
you '
"'Yes, you 're a silly; but I never do forget
things don't.'
'Oh please forgive me, Tom; my heart will
break,' said Maggie, shaking with sobs, clinging
to Tom's arm, and laying her wet cheek on his
Tom shook her off and stopped again, saying
in a peremptory tone, 'Now, Maggie, you just
listen. Are n't I a good brother to you?'
'Ye-ye-es,' sobbed Maggie, her chin rising
and falling convulsively.
"'Did n't I think about your fish-line all this
quarter and mean to buy it, and saved my money
o' purpose, and would n't go halves in the toffee,
and Spouncer fought me because I would n't?'
"' Ye-ye-es and I lo-lo-love
you so, Tom.'
"'But you're a naughty girl. Last holidays
you licked the paint off my lozenge-box, and the
holidays before that you let the boat drag my fish-
line down when I set you to watch it, and you
pushed your head through my kite all for nothing.'

'But I did n't mean,' said Maggie; 'I could
n't help it.'
Yes, you could,' said Tom, if you'd minded
what you were doing. And you 're a naughty
girl, and you sha'n't go fishing with me to-morrow.'
"With this terrible conclusion, Tom ran away
from Maggie toward the mill, meaning to greet
Luke there, and complain to him of Harry.
"Maggie stood motionless, except from her
sobs, for a minute or two; then she turned round
and ran into the house, and up to her attic, where
she sat on the floor, and laid her head against the
worm-eaten shelf, with a crushing sense of misery.
Tom was. come home, and she had thought how
happy she should be, and now he was cruel to her.
What use was anything if Tom did n't love her?
Oh, he was very cruel!. Had n't she wanted to
give him the money, and said how very sorry she
was ? She knew she was naughty to her mother,
but she had neier been naughty to Tom-had
never meant to be naughty to him.
Oh, he is cruel!' sobbed Maggie aloud, find-
ing a wretched pleasure in the hollow resonance'
that came through the long empty space of the
attic. She never thought of beating or grinding
her Fetish; she was too miserable to be angry.
Maggie soon thought she had been hours in
the attic, and it must be tea-time, and they were
all having their tea and not thinking of her. Well,
then, she would stay up there and starve herself-
hide herself behind the tub and stay there all
night; and then they would all be frightened and
Tom would be sorry. Thus Maggie thought in
the pride of her heart, as she crept behind the tub;
but presently she began to cry again at the idea
that they did n't mind her being there. If she
went down again to Tom now, would he forgive
her? Perhaps her father would be there, and he
would take her part. But, then, she wanted Tom
to forgive her because he loved her, not because
his father told him. No, she would never go down,
if Tom did n't come to fetch her. This resolution
lasted in great intensity for five dark minutes
behind the tub; but then the need of being loved,
the strongest need in poor Maggie's nature, began
to wrestle with her pride and soon threw it. She
crept from behind her tub into the twilight of the
long attic, but just then she heard a quick foot-
step on the stairs."
It was Tom's step, but he was not coming, as
she ardently hoped, of his own free will, to make
friends with her, and say he had forgiven her.
The truth was he had been so busy talking to
Luke, and visiting all the old familiar haunts, that
he had not thought of Maggie until tea-time came,
and he was questioned by his father and mother
about his little sister, and sent off, when he had




just begun on the plum-cake, to search for her.
Maggie knew Tom's step, and her heart began
to beat violently with the sudden shock of hope.
He only stood still at the top of the stairs and said,
' Maggie, you 're to come down.' But she rushed
to him and clung round his neck, sobbing, 'Oh,
Tom, please forgive me I can't bear it- I will
always be good always remember things do
love me please, dear Tom? "
Maggie and Tom were still very much like
young animals, and so she could rub her cheek
against his, and kiss his ear in a random, sobbing
way; and there were tender fibers in the lad that
had been used to answer to Maggie's fondling, so
that he behaved with a weakness quite inconsistent
with his resolution to punish her as much as she
deserved; he actually began to kiss her in return,
and say,
'Don't cry, then, Magsie -here, eat a bit o'
Maggie's sobs began to subside, and she put
out her mouth for the cake and bit a piece; and
then Tom bit a piece, just for company ; and they
ate together, and rubbed each other's cheeks, and
brows, and noses, together, while they ate, with a
humiliating resemblance to two friendly ponies.
"' Come along, Magsie, and have tea,' said
Tom at last, when there was no more cake except
what was downstairs.
So ended the sorrows of this day, and the next
morning Maggie was trotting with her own fishing-
rod in one hand and a handle of the basket in the
other, stepping always, by a peculiar gift, in the
muddiest places, and looking darkly radiant from
under her beaver bonnet because Tom was good
to her. She had told Tom, however, that she
should like him to put the worms on the hook for
her, although she accepted his word when he as-
sured her that worms could n't feel (it was Tom's
private opinion that it did n't much matter if they
did). He knew all about worms, and fish, and
those things; and what birds were mischievous,
and how padlocks opened, and which way the
handles of the gates were to be lifted. Maggie
thought this sort of knowledge was very wonderful
-much more difficult than remembering what was
in the books; and she was rather in awe of Tom's
superiority, for he was the only person who called
her knowledge 'stuff,' and did not feel surprised
at her cleverness. Tom, indeed, was of opinion
that Maggie was a silly little thing; all girls were
silly: they could n't throw a stone so as to hit any-
thing, could n't do anything with a pocket-knife,
and were frightened at frogs. Still, he was very
fond of his sister, and meant always to take care of
her, make her his housekeeper, and punish her
when she did wrong.

They were on their way to the Round Pool,-
that wonderful pool, which the floods had made a
long while ago. No one knew how deep it was;
and it was mysterious, too, that it should be almost
a perfect round, framed in with willows and tall
reeds, so that the water was only to be seen when
you got close to the brink. The sight of the old
favorite spot always heightened Tom's good-humor,
and he spoke to Maggie in the most amiable whis-
pers, as he opened the precious basket and pre-
pared their tackle. He threw her line for her, and
put the rod into her hand. Maggie thought it
probable that the small fish would come to her
hook, and the large ones to Tom's. But she had
forgotten all about the fish, and was looking
dreamily at the glassy water, when Tom said, in a
loud whisper, 'Look look, Maggie! and came
running to prevent her from snatching her line
"Maggie was frightened lest she had been doing
something wrong, as usual, but presently Tom
drew out her line and brought a large tench boun-
cing on the grass.
Tom was excited.
"' Oh, Magsie! you little duck! Empty the
Maggie was not conscious of unusual merit,
but it was enough that Tom called her Magsie
and was pleased with her. There was nothing to
mar her delight in the whispers and the dreamy
silences, when she listened to the light dipping
sounds of the rising fish, and the gentle rustling,
as if the willows, and the reeds, and the water had
their happy whisperings also. Maggie thought it
would make a very nice heaven to sit by the pool
in that way, and never be scolded. She never
knew she had a bite till Tomn told her, but she
liked fishing very much.
"It was one of their happy mornings. They
trotted along and sat down together, with no
thought that life would ever change much for
them; they would only get bigger, and not go to
school, and it would always be like the holidays;
they would always live together and be fond of
each other. And the mill with its booming,- the
great chestnut-tree under which they played at
houses,-their own little river, the Ripple, where
the banks seemed like home, and Tom was always
seeing the water-rats, while Maggie gathered the
purple, plumy tops of the reeds, which she forgot
and dropped afterward- above all, the great Floss,
along which they wandered with a sense of travel,
to see the rushing spring-tide, the awful Eagre,
come up like a hungry monster, or to see the
Great Ash which had once wailed and groaned like a
man-these things would always be just the same
to them. Tom thought people were at a disad-



vantage who lived on any other spot of the globe;
and Maggie, when she read about Christiana pass-
ing the river over which there is no bridge,' always
saw the Floss between the green pastures by the
Great Ash."
Mrs. Tulliver was a woman who thought a great
deal of her family, and it was always her habit,
before entering into any serious undertaking, to
ask her sisters and their husbands to her house,
for a family council; so they were now bidden to
come and confer about sending Tom to Mr. Stel-
ling, before the final arrangements should be
Tom, for his part, was as far from appreciating
his 'kin' on the mother's side as Maggie herself;
generally absconding for the'day with a large sup-
ply of the most portable food when he received
timely warning that his aunts and uncles were
coming. It was rather hard on Maggie that
Tom always absconded without letting her into
the secret."
On the day before the arrival of the expected
guests, "there were such various and suggestive
scents, as of plum-cakes in the oven, and jellies in
the hot state, mingled with the aroma of gravy,
that it was impossible to feel altogether gloomy;
there was hope in the air. Tom and Maggie made
several inroads into the kitchen, and were in-
duced to keep aloof for a time only by being allowed
to carry away a sample of the good things.
"'' Tom,' said Maggie, as they sat on the boughs
of the elder-tree, eating their jam puffs, 'shall you
run away to-morrow?'
'No,' said Tom, slowly, when he had finished
his puff and was eying the third, which was to be
divided between them, 'no, I sha'n't.'
'Why, Tom? Because Lucy 's coming ?'
"'No,' said Tom, opening his pocket-knife, and
holding it over the puff, with his head on one side
in a dubitative manner, 'what do I care
about Lucy? She 's only a girl; she can't play
at bandy.'
Is it the tipsy-cake, then?' said Maggie, ex-
erting her hypothetic powers, while she leaned
forward toward Tom with her eyes fixed on the
hovering knife.
'No, you silly; that '11 be good the day after.
It's the pudden. I know what the pudden 's
to be- apricot roll-up oh, my buttons !'
"With this interjection, the knife descended on
the puff, and it was in two, but the result was not
satisfactory to Tom, for he still eyed the halves
doubtfully. At last he said,
Shut your eyes, Maggie.'
S' What for?'
'You never mind what for -shut 'em when I
tell you.'

"Maggie obeyed.
Now, which '11 you have, Maggie, right hand
or left?'
'I '11 have that with the jam run out,' said
Maggie, keeping her eyes shut to please Tom.
"' Why, you don't like that, you silly. You
may have it if it comes to you fair, but I sha'n't
give it to you without. Right or left-you choose
now. Ha-a-a !' said Tom, in a tone of exaspera-
tion, as Maggie peeped. 'You keep your eyes
shut now, else you sha'n't have any.'
Maggie's power of sacrifice did not extend so
far; indeed I fear that she cared less that Tom
should enjoy the utmost possible amount of puff,
than that he should be pleased with her for giving
him the best bit. So she shut her eyes quite close
till Tom told her to 'say which,' and then she
said, 'Left hand.'
'You've got it,' said Tom, in rather a bitter
'What the bit with the jam run out ?'
'No; here, take it,' said Tom, firmly, hand-
ing decidedly the best piece to Maggie.
"'Oh, Tom, please have it; I don't mind-I
like the other; please take this.'
"'No, I sha'n't,' said Tom, almost crossly, be-
ginning on his own inferior piece.
Maggie, thinking it was no use to contend fur-
ther, began too, and ate up her half puff with con-
siderable relish as well as rapidity. But Tom had
finished first and had to look on, while Maggie ate
her last morsel or two, feeling in himself a capacity
for more. Maggie did n't know Tom was looking
at her; she was seesawing on the elder bough, lost
to almost everything but a vague sense of jam and
Oh, you greedy thing !' said Tom, when she
had swallowed the last morsel. He was conscious
of having acted very fairly, and thought she ought
to have considered this, and made up to him for it.
He would have refused a bit of hers beforehand,
but one is naturally at a different point of view be-
fore and after one's own share of puff is swallowed.
"Maggie turned quite pale. 'Oh, Tom, why
didn't you ask me? '
"'I wasn't going to ask you for a bit, you
greedy. You might have thought of it without,
when you knew I gave you the best bit.'
"'But I wanted you to have it -you know I
did,' said Maggie, in an injured tone.
'Yes, but I was n't going to do what was n't
fair, like Spouncer. He always takes the best bit,
if you don't punch him for it; and if you choose
the best, with your eyes shut, he changes his
hands. But if I go halves, I '11 go'em fair--only
I would n't be a greedy.'
"With this Tom jumped down from his



bough, and threw a stone with a highh I' as a
friendly attention to Yap, who had also been look-
ing on while the eatables vanished, with an agita-
tion of his ears and feelings which could hardly
have been without bitterness. Yet the excellent
dog accepted Tom's attention with as much alacrity
as if he had been treated quite generously.
"But Maggie sat still on her bough, and
gave herself up to the keen sense of unmerited re-
proach. She would have given the world not to
have eaten all her puff, and to have saved some
of it for Tom. Not but that the puff was very
nice, but she would have gone without it

many times over sooner than Tom should call her
greedy and be cross with her. And he had said
he wouldn't have it-and she ate it without think-
ing-how could she help it? The tears flowed
so plentifully that Maggie saw nothing around her
for the next ten minutes ; but by that time resent-
ment began to give way to the desire of reconcili-
ation, and she jumped from her bough to look for
Tom. She ran to the high bank against the
great holly-tree, where she could see far away to-
ward the Floss. There was Tom; but her heart
sank again as she saw how far off he was on his
way to the great river."

(To be concluded.)

Ce1La it '"bTecrs2

^nai~oc .^s^& .hY ^^^ r^ ub:=

Each Hunter, w-ith his strongly corded bovw,
Seems to say, I'tt hit Ithat Rabbit don't you Kno1w.
Anpct it s possible -
thfey will, (S"
*If thee creature 's
o12ly stil,-

But a Rabbit is
so liable to go.



YOUNG Timothy crept to the old meadow bars,
And, between the brown rails peeping through,
Saw,-what do you think,-on the opposite
side ?
Two eyes of the prettiest blue.

Two eyes of the prettiest, bluest of blue,
Forget-me-nots hid in the grass;
But he could n't climb over, and could n't crawl
And he 's peeping, still peeping, alas!


WHILE the ship which carried Barnum's great
elephant from London to New York was plunging
along through the ocean, another ship, carrying
another Jumbo, was sailing from Lerwick in the
Shetland Islands to the port of Granton. It was
a long and tedious journey from his island home
between the Atlantic and the North Sea, touching
at three different ports and changing ships at each,
then, across the wide. ocean to New York. He
did n't seem to mind it though, and I dare say he



felt fresher and in better spirits than his namesake,
who made the voyage in three weeks less time, and
was the heavier of the two by thousands and thou-
sands of pounds. All of you have seen Shetland
ponies at the .circus, and perhaps many of you
have your own ponies which you ride every day in
the park; but I doubt whether any of you ever
saw so small a pony as Jumbo. I know I never
did; and as there have been always from thirteen
to twenty full-grown Shetland ponies in the pasture

'* "' ,. .. '1 N '.'I
1--... ,-... .. ,i, i

,b ', ,;' ) '.'"- / t T:' ,
L-. _. U, .

I'* JMBO i%.". WA S. G T G



at Grassfield, I have had ample opportunity to
learn all about them. Jumbo was two years old
when he came to us, and weighed one hundred and
sixteen pounds. He seemed to thrive in the
American climate; for after he had been with us
a year, he grew stouter and stouter until he
could make the little marker on the scales
point to one hundred and ninety pounds. ,
This was his greatest weight, and he
appeared to be very proud of it, for
when he stood on the platform of
the scales he held his head very ,,i '

erect and neighed, as if to say, "There! I am a
very big pony, after all I"
When Jumbo was first turned into the pasture,
and introduced to the other ponies, he galloped
first to one, then to another, and so on through the
whole herd, as if to become acquainted with his
new friends. Many of the ponies were afraid of
him at first, and one or two of the older ones bit
at him and kicked him; but he did n't seem in the
least discouraged by this rude reception, and soon
made himself perfectly at home. It was not long
before he was on good terms with every one of the
ponies except old Gypsy. She was a very bad-

tempered animal, and whenever anything dis-
pleased her she would raise her hind feet into the
air, like the kicking mule which the clown rides at
the circus. Of course Gypsy was very unpopular
with the other ponies, just as cross people always
are with their associates. I ought to say, as excuse
for her, that she was very old, and. her grandchil-
dren and great-great-grandchildren played around
her in the pasture. That may be the reason she
was not dealt with more harshly; for, perhaps,
ponies -like some little children -are taught to
respect old age.
Jumbo was as gentle as a kitten, and of course




became the pet of the girls and boys. In fact,
they grew so fond of him that the poor little fellow
never had a moment's rest from morning till
night, during the summer vacation. Whenever
there was an errand to be done at the village, it
was Jumbo who had to be saddled, and bridled,
and ridden up and down that long and tiresome
hill. It was Jumbo, too, who must be harnessed to
the little cart whenever stones were to be cleared
away from the carriage road, or whenever a pail
of water must be carried to the men in the hay-
field. Then, too, Jumbo was taught to churn the
butter on the endless chain; and he did this work
so much better than Shep," that the dog had to
resign the office to him, which lazy Shep was only too
glad to do. When there were visitors at the house,
Jumbo was often led on to the front piazza and
then through the front door into the main hall. He
seemed to appreciate the honor, and his conduct
in the house was quite exemplary. He would
quietly eat an apple or a lump of salt from some-
body's hand, and he was very careful to spill nothing
on the floor. This may have been because he was
anxious not to lose a bit of his luncheon, but I
prefer to think it was a proof of his good manners.
A favorite amusement of the children was to
drive tandem;' or to drive even four ponies in single

file. In these cases Jumbo was always placed at
the head of the procession, where he seemed fully
to realize his importance as leader. He would trot
along at a brisk pace, his head held in the air,
raising his feet high from the ground at every step,
that he might not stumble. He looked his best,
however, when he stood on his hind legs, and
balanced there as long as he could. He was also
trained to lie down at the word of command. One
of his tricks was to stand still while we lifted Shep
to his back, and then to gallop furiously around
the carriage road, until the dog would jump to the
ground in fright.
Jumbo was not a black pony, like most of those
you have seen. There was a broad stripe of white
along his back, extending under him, all the way
around. Then, too, there was some white on his
forehead, and on his tail.
After telling you all about him, it seems too bad
to have to end by saying that Jumbo is dead.
The odd part of it is, that he died the same spring,
and just the week after the elephant Jumbo. I wish
that I could have seen them standing side by side.
What a contrast there would have been There
is a little colt of his in the pasture now, which is
marked exactly like him. We have named this
colt Huckleberry Finn.




ONE merry summer day
Two roses were at play;
All at once they took a notion
They would like to run away !
Queer little roses ;
Funny little roses,
To want to run away !

They stole along my fence;
They clambered up my wall;
They climbed into my window
To make a morning call!
Queer little roses;
Funny little roses,
To make a morning call!



S/ -;

f 'I
6n({ _.

M'^ 1? rId


btitt ...




THERE was no reveille in that dormitory on the
morning after the fire; and although nearly all
the boys awoke from force of habit at the hour
when it should have sounded, they were ordered
by the Doctor, after he had satisfied himself that
though tired they were in good condition, to turn
over and go to sleep again. This order they were
not slow in obeying. Lessons were shortened that
day, at roll-call, and drill as well; which led Fred

Warrington to remark that he wished a fire would
occur every fortnight; though the novelty of the
new manual was still fresh, and the boys enjoyed
their quarter-staff play as much as ever. For
steady exercise, however, both the principal and
the Doctor were of opinion that it was too violent;
while as a relaxation it was of use in enlivening the
monotony of drill, and awakening new faculties in
minds wearied by hard study.
It is not my whole plan to make much of it,"
observed the principal, in answer to some protest

--- 4 .


from Doctor McCarthy. There is more and better
to come, as soon as my preparations are com-
pleted. The quarter-staves serve meanwhile to
fill up a gap; and, when the time comes, will be
relegated to their proper place in the system
which I am evolving, and from which, contrary
though it be to all school canons, I confidently ex-
pect great results." I
"But why not have retained the muskets until
you were ready?" asked the Doctor, curiously.
" It would have saved some expense."
You misunderstand me; I do not intend to
retire the staves altogether. The guards, for in-
stance, will still carry them when on duty, and
once or twice a week there will be a general fen-
cing bout. For the rest of the drill- well, that is
still a secret," and the principal, laughing, turned
away to the room where the senior class was awaiting
him, leaving the Doctor, and some few of the boys
who had been listening eagerly, in a state of unsatis-
factory tantalization that can be imagined better
than described. But the news which they could
garner from the chaff was important, to wit: that
there was yet more to come, and that they had not
" seen the bottom of the basket." Wylie was sent
for by the General, and had a long conversation
with him on some subject unknown to the rest,
but of which he was manifestly aching to tell.
Tell you what, Ed, I'd surrender my commis-
sion for the privilege of telling you all about it, if I
could with honesty. It's just the biggest thing that
ever was heard of since the palmy days of Athens
in the age of Pericles, and will make a stir that will
be known of all over this continent, and perhaps
some others as well," and Harry hugged himself in
a vain endeavor to repress the feelings struggling
for expression.
What's the good of telling me that much and
stopping there?" said Ed sulkily, and savagely
biting a lead-pencil until he broke it; whereat
Harry laughed provokingly, and went to have
another talk with the General.
When he came away from headquarters, in-
stead of returning at once to his room he walked
down to the shore of the lake and looked off over
the level expanse in a meditative way. The day
was cold; it was one of those stinging days that
come suddenly without any warning in the midst
of mild weather; when the mercury drops far below
the freezing point and the air itself seems to sparkle
with frost.
One or two boats which had not yet been put
into winter quarters lay frozen in, while the whole
lake was apparently ice-bound. It would be
" skate-able before night if the weather held. It
was already strong enough to bear, along the shore;
and Harry cautiously crept out a little way to as-

certain that important fact. When he returned
he asked and obtained permission to go to the vil-
lage, drawing a small sum from the money which
the principal held in trust for him. Harry then
made several purchases: two cane fishing-rods, a
leather strap or two, some stout cord, a number
of yards of cloth, and an iron tube about three
inches long, which he discovered in a heap of old
iron in a hardware shop. Then, when he re-
turned, he had an interview with the tailor, and as
he whittled and sewed away in his own room, so
much whistling came from the little study that the
guard threatened to report him if he did not stop.
In the early dusk, Harry slipped out unobserved
from the building with his skates in his overcoat-
pocket and a prodigiously long bundle under his
arm, while in his hand he carried a little lantern.
Shortly afterward a light might have been seen
careering along the shore of the lake, waving
wildly as though swung from the top of a pole.
Then a gust of wind blew it out. Soon after
Harry returned, but his bundle he had left behind.

It was Thanksgiving morning. Down the lake
the wind came whistling clear and cold, wafting
the odors of many a roasting turkey from the
kitchen chimneys along the shore. The ice was
many inches thick, and scores of skaters, in dark-
blue uniforms, were cutting figures of all sorts
upon the glassy surface. The whole Institute was
out in force, and even the principal was gliding by
with long and stately strokes, answering the many
respectful salutations with a pleasant smile and
bow, and quietly indulging in a laugh at the gyra-
tions of the little Doctor, who was performing
strange podographic feats.
Dane was there, vainly looking around for
Harry, who had vanished some time before most
Far down the lake a white sail shot out from be-
hind a headland and went skimming along diago-
nally across the wide expanse, swifter than the
wind itself which drove it. They could see the
sail bend before the blast as the flaws came, and
then straighten up as springily as a sapling when
the gusts had spent their force.
"An ice-boat!--an ice-boat!" and all eyes
were directed toward it.
Funny kind of ice-boat, I should say," said
Rankin, who was experienced in such matters.
" See how stiff she stands up to it. If it had been
an ice-boat of any kind that I know of, she would
be lying down from the wind; but see there !-
the thing is actually leaning against the wind."
It was, indeed, acting in a manner quite foreign
to well-bred winter-yachts; and although looking
with all their eyes they could see no semblance of


a hull; yet it certainly was not far enough away
to be hull-down," although the smallness of the
sail had given the impression that it was at a greater
distance than it was in fact.
Suddenly it tacked sharply, to avoid running
ashore, and the skipper laid his course back across
the lake almost directly toward the gazing skaters.
They could see one figure standing by the mast,
grasping it with one hand; but if there was any
helmsman he was hidden by the sail. The flag at
the end of the long lateen yard streamed out gayly,
a thin, scarlet streamer; and now and again a
white streak flashed for an instant as the steel
shaved up a feathery flake of ice when the swift
craft yawed under the unsteady breeze, and the
spectators fancied that they could hear the ringing
hiss of the polished blades beneath.
The ice gave a great crack as the craft glided on,
and the sound went booming up and down the lake
for miles and miles, echoing from shore to shore
like a martial salute from the rocky fortresses of
winter to the flag-ship of some foreign squadron.
Dane brought his hand down upon his thigh
with a slap.
As I live, it is Harry Wylie "
The next moment, with a rush, the craft flashed
by them and the flakes flew like foam, as it rounded
to and shot up into the wind's eye for a moment,
and then, gathering sternway, came rapidly down
toward them.
Of course I ought to have known," said Ran-
kin, who was a New Yorker, a little mortified that
he had not solved the mystery. But who would
have expected to see a skate-sail up here, and of
such a strange pattern as that? "
What 's a skate-sail?" asked Dane, as he and
Rankin joined the crowd around Harry, foremost
among whom were the professors.
"Why, you see, it 's an ice-boat, of which a
fellow's own skates are the runners Just a sail,
held up before the wind; only this is an odd kind
that I never saw before."
The crowd looked on admiringly while Harry
explained his device. He had strapped to his foot
the iron tube which he bought, and in this was
stepped a short mast, of cane, about six feet high;
at right angles to this and just above his ankle a
long boom swung horizontally, while from the for-
ward end of the boom another ran backward at an
acute angle, crossing the mast at about the height
of his shoulder, and extending back until the area
of sail at that side of the mast was about equal to
the area on the other side. This made a large
triangle, with one side parallel to the ice; and a
short rod was loosely attached at one end to the
forward angle, the other end being held in the hand.
You see, I can hook my arm around the mast,"

said Harry, explaining it, "and lean back against
the wind, keeping the nose of the sail steady with
the rod; and if it blows too hard, I slide down at
arms-length and lean hard, keeping my other foot
well under me, so that if the wind drops suddenly
I shall keep right side up. I might have rigged
a reef that could be adjusted while under sail, if I
had cared to have it."
How ? asked one of the boys, who was deeply
By using, above this yard, another lateen, slid-
ing up and down the mast; to reef, all that one
would have to do would be to drop the other yard
down, letting the baggy sail fall outside of the
second lateen. It would be heavy, though, and
rather awkward to manage."
It strikes me that it is not easy to go before
the wind, as you have rigged your sail, Wylie ";
the objection came in the clear voice of the prin-
cipal across the crowded heads.
It is n't easy, sir," said Harry, frankly. It
would be if I had fastened the socket further for-
ward on my foot instead of at the instep, but I
could not make it secure there using only what I
had to work with, and it matters the less since it is
swiftest on the wind."
But to the boys it seemed perfection, and half a
dozen of the more knowing drew out from the
rest and instituted a headlong chase along shore
toward the village, each straining every nerve
to be the first at the fishing-tackle dealer's,
lest he should find that the most available canes
had been sold before his arrival. Holiday though
it was, before night a dozen sails were skimming
across the ice in every direction, and an impromptu
race was arranged at a moment's notice. It was a
fine sight to see the white sails bending, one after
another, before the blast, then rising, like reeds,
when the gust lessened in force, and shooting past
each other as now one, now another, obtained an
advantage. Lieutenant Rankin was the winner
by a long distance, as he was an experienced
yachtsman, and found it easy to adapt his nautical
knowledge to the changed circumstances. Harry
Wylie was next, with Mitchell a close third,-so
close that at one time he nearly succeeded in being


IT required some little patience among the boys
at the Institute to enable them to exist contentedly
for the next week. Skate-sailing was the prevailing
craze, and yet time was wanting to enable them
to gratify it. But there were compensations-
symptoms that the long, mysterious planning and
preparation were about to come to an end. The



workmen had finished their work at the drill-hall branches of mathematics upon the class list, since
and had departed. Two great sails hung in heavy it was never referred to in recitation. Dane de-
folds, one at each end of the hall; a second canvas dared, laughingly, that it was all a humbug,
having been hung after the General had sent for and that in his opinion the work had been
and apparently consulted
with Lieutenant Wylie
(whoseemedtobe "want-
ed" rather often in these
days). A long timber, .. :
with two-inch auger-holes .
bored at intervals through '-
it, was laid across the hall,
some six feet from the /
curtain, holes uppermost; .
and a similar beam also
encumbered the floor at .
the other end of the hall. '
They caused much spec- ....
ulation, but in no wise. '-.. '
assisted in solving the .; ......
problem; nor did the next"
public proceeding add to [ "
the enlightenment of the ..
students. Harry had su- .-
perintended themanufact-.
ure of a series of pulleys- ., I ..
attached to the wall; 'I" "
through these he rove . ., .
cords with handles at one .l A.' :' .
end, and a series of de- 0 -
tachable weights at the '
other,-such contrivances ,.> "
as are common in all gym- ,
nasiums now, but they-. A'"'r ." .' -
were new to the Institute- -
boys. Then for days, dur- ''
ing drill-hours, student .- -
after student was sum- .
moned to one of these- -
pulleys and made to pull
the handle out from the
wall with one hand, draw- .
ing it across the chest;
by degrees until the maxi-
mum of effort had been attained,- all of which was copied bodily from the pages of Colburn's Arith-
duly entered, in pounds avoirdupois, upon the pages metic.
of a ledger-like volume which the Doctor never al- Whatever it was, however, it came to an end at
lowedoutofhissightforamoment. Inothercolumns last, to Harry's great relief; and the results were
were entered the height of the student, length of carefully tabulated and sent in to the principal.
arms, and girth of arms and chest, as well as a Then the inevitable four-horse team from the
number of other personal statistics of similar im- factory crossed the lake upon the ice, laden as
port, until every student in the Institute had been before with broom-handles, which were duly un-
thus carefully examined and put on record; after loaded, carried within, and set up in the auger-
which Harry and the Doctor seemed to have a holes in the timbers previously mentioned, until
vast amount of figuring to carry through, which the poles extended entirely across each end of the
apparently was not connected with any of the hall at intervals of about six feet. They looked





like a miniature telegraph line ready for the wire,
or like a Brobdingnagian comb.
I vow I declared Dane, when he saw this, I
was right after all. O my prophetic soul we
are to have the cockshys, sure "
"But what have the stakes to do with them?"
asked a skeptical student, who declined to accept
the hypothesis so confidently advanced.
Why, to put the teacups on, to be sure; won't
we just raise the price of crockery, though "
But I don't see what all that measuring has to
do with it," continued the doubter, laughing, "and
the Doctor is n't the man to cipher for two weeks
just for the fun of it "
"Oh, the measuring! said Dane, a little less
confidently. "I had forgotten about that. Per-
haps-the General wanted to know who could
hit the hardest, and smash the most china."
But his theory, ingenious though it was, failed
to win adherents. Harry declined even to hear
his friend's argument -to the effect that he knew
more about the game than the lieutenant and
therefore was a proper person to be called to the
General's assistance and was thereby nearly pro-
voked into betraying the whole matter. Theboys
present pricked up their ears and were all attention,
when he suddenly bethought himself, cried, You
are a set of humbugs, all of you 1 and darted away
to his room at full speed, tingling in every nerve
as he thought of his narrow escape. He resolved
to give Master Dane a highly moral lecture on the
duties of friendship when next they met.
At high noon on the same day, however, a dray
quietly entered the grounds directly from the rail-
road station, heavily laden with long parcels most
carefully protected by many wrappers and handled
by the man in charge as gingerly as though they
had been dynamite cartridges. The boys were at
dinner, and only the principal was at the drill-hall.
The packages were carried within and stored in a
dark room, Mr. Richards assisting. The dray de-
parted, and no one was the wiser.
It was quarter-staff day, and the boys were apt
to be on hand even before the hour for drill, to
snatch a moment for polishing and oiling their
staves; they were particularly proud of them, and
vied with each other in bringing out the rich color
in the greatest perfection. These now presented
an appearance very different from that of the
tallow-hued sticks with which the students had first
been armed, and, in spite of their inherent tough-
ness, the staves bore many a dent.
Company D, having just finished their fencing
bout, stood at rest with folded arms, in their proper
places on one side of a hollow square, with staves
leaning against their shoulders, and still wear-
ing helmets, when the General appeared upon


the platform which ran along the room behind
Attention Battalion "
Every boy in the battalion straightened up in-
stantly, and brought his staff to the shoulder,
and officers who had been conversing with their
friends hastily returned to their proper positions.
Company D, about -face "
Around spun the helmets like animated tops,
and the General then looked down upon a line of
wire-gauze faces, instead of ochre-hued heads.
Company C, right wheel-march "
With the student at the extreme end of the line
and nearest to the platform, as a pivot, the line
swept around without a waver, just clearing the
boys of Company B, who had faced them upon
the opposite side of the square, and who had been
marched backward a few paces to make room.
"Company B, forward-march!" and it re-
turned to its former position.
Left wheel-march !" and as the other com-
pany had done, they, too, swung around and fell
into line behind it.
"Company A, forward-march!" and that
company moved forward toward the General and
halted behind Company B. Thus the companies
stood, with the shorter boys at the front and the
tall forms of Company A bringing up the rear.
The General stepped aside, and Mr. Richards
came forward slowly, with his hands behind him.
Parade rest !" The battalion stood at ease.
"Boys, the time has come when I can explain
my plan for your physical improvement, and I wish
to thank you for the patience with which you have
borne the many and unexpected delays. It has
proved more expensive than I had at first sup-
posed, but if I can send you out from the Institute
with strong, well-trained bodies and equally well-
trained minds, I shall regret no outlay.
As you are aware, the Greeks of old placed
a well-developed set of muscles upon a some-
what higher plane than an equally well-equipped
brain; for the highest prize in the land was the
crown of wild olive bestowed upon the winner of
the Olympic games. It was before the age of gun-
powder,-before the personal prowess of the war-
rior had given way to the tactic and skill of the
general. But the winners of the games are forgot-
ten. Their very names are scarcely known to us;
while the men who relied upon intellect for their
fame have sent their names ringing down the ages,
and made their time the golden age of Greece.
Yet the Olympian festivals were, in another
way, of incalculable benefit to all the nation; for
they stimulated to the highest degree that regard
for physical exercise which brings the body near-
est to perfection, and gave strong frames to men


who knew their value; who knew that the man
who would wield that mighty engine, the human
intellect, and make it do all that it is capable of
doing, must possess a frame commensurate to the
strain. Otherwise, he some day might overtax
its endurance and thus wreck it utterly. As you
are aware, it has been my ambition to send you
from me out into the world prepared, not merely
to pass examinations, but to work. I have endeav-
ored to give you the best preparation for accom-
plishing that work, which is known to modern
progress. What I now have prepared for you is
an innovation in educational methods; and it rests
with you whether it shall be a success or a failure.
If it succeeds, as I confidently believe it will, you will
find its good effects following you throughout life.
"I will now let Lieutenant Wylie explain the
plan; he is thoroughly conversant with it in all of
its details, and, moreover, is one of yourselves."
The principal ceased. During his brief speech
the students had been very quiet,- so silent that
not a muscle moved among them all, lest they
might fail to catch some important word. But when
he ceased, and Harry Wylie, at a sign from the
General, mounted the platform and came forward
rather diffidently, a stir began, irrepressible, in-
creasing, until at last the ends of the staves dropped
to the floor with a sharp rattle, and a volley of
hand-clapping burst from the ranks like the sound
of many waters.
It was hard for Harry. He was never much of
an orator, and nothing but his earnestness of pur-
pose saved him from utter failure. As it was,
although the color rose in his face, he resolutely
put everything out of mind save the one thing for
which he was there.
"Boys, how many of you have ever belonged to
archery clubs? was his first, seemingly irrelevant,
question. Fifteen or twenty of Company A raised
their staves to right shoulder shift, in indica-
tion of assent, according to the custom at the
Institute, and here and there among the rest
there were others. Harry's face lighted up with
surprised satisfaction at the number. Stepping
quickly back to the door of the store-room he
vanished for a second, and as quickly returned,
bringing in his hand a long bow, made of sassafras
wood. "The problem has been, boys, to unite
the advantages of a gymnasium with the habit of
obedience and the discipline of our present mili-
tary drill. This"-holding up the bow-"is the
means of obtaining that result. Every time that
you draw this to the head of a twenty-eight-inch
arrow you expand iche chest, bring into play the
muscles of both arms and shoulders, straighten the
back, strengthen the legs, and accustom the eye

to look at things at a distance, thus counteract-
ing at once nearly all the unhealthful tendencies of
student life. It will make us strong and straight,
and will prevent our becoming near-sighted. You
have wondered what all this measuring has been
for,-and some of you have nearly badgered the
life out of me to find out "
A low laugh rippled through the ranks at this
boyish remark.
"Every bow is a certain number of pounds in
weight. That is, it requires so many pounds to
draw it twenty-eight inches, and the measuring
was to ascertain what weight each student needed
to develop his muscles without injuring them;
for too strong a bow would strain, rather than
Harry then went through with the movements
of a manual of arms which the General had de-
vised; while that officer gave the words of com-
mand, and the boys looked on with most eager
attention. Then those who had been archers were
ordered upon the platform, and put through the
same manual; which, as they understood the rea-
son for every motion, was an easy task. Each had
been supplied with a bow from the store-room,
according to a number opposite his name,which the
Doctor read from the ledger; and each was re-
quired to write his initials upon a little tag that
hung with the tassel at the end of the bow-string.
When these had been fairly perfected in everything
save the actual use of the arrow (which was not as yet
to be intrusted to them) the battalion was broken
up into squads which were placed under temporary
command of the more experienced archers for
instruction; while Harry kept a careful watch over
all, with the General's assistance, and corrected
whatever mistakes came under his notice. When
the gong rang for the suspension of drill, there was
a universal petition that for this once they might
continue a little longer. The General declined to
assent, and made them hang up their bows, incased
in flannel bags, from hooks within the store-room.
Habits of discipline were not to be trifled with.
But when they had departed he said to the prin-
cipal, who was looking on with much satisfaction:
This settles it, Mr. Richards. I believe in the
new drill, heart and soul, and will make those boys
the sturdiest specimens of young humanity that
ever went out from this school. The days of the
musket are over. I only hope that the world will
not look on the innovation with its usual suspicion
until we have time to show results "
"It 's only a new application of an old remedy,
General," and Mr. Richards laughed quietly to
himself. "When I was a boy, sassafras shoots
were considered good for me !"

(To be concluded.)



ON Tuesday, March 6th, a loss, which will be
very widely deplored, befell the world of readers
in the death of Miss Louisa May Alcott, at the
comparatively early age of fifty-five. Her father,
crowned with years and with honor, had died three

2 .

days before, at the age of eighty-eight; and it
seemed reasonable to hope for a long life for the
daughter who had inherited so many of his gifts,
and added to them an affluent and powerful
originality. But as if these two -who had been
so closely united here for more than half a cen-
tury-could not long be parted, even by death,
the strong, pure soul of the daughter went forth -
on the very day on which her father was carried
to the grave -to join him somewhere in that
other world in which his faith was so absolute and
so unwavering.
There is material for a volume in this life which
I must sketch for you so briefly that I can give
you only its merest outline; yet even an outline
may show you how full it was of noble endeavor
and noble achievement. Miss Alcott had the
supreme good fortune to be descended, on both
sides, from high-minded, God-fearing men and
women, with keen intellectual instincts. Her
father, Amos Bronson Alcott, was born in Wolcott,
Connecticut, just at the end of the last century.
His early life was full of experiments. Clock-
maker, peddler, divinity student, school-teacher,

- all these, before he became the serene phi-
losopher of whom Emerson wrote to Carlyle as
"a majestic soul, with whom conversation is
In 1830 he married Miss Abby May, a descendant
of the Sewells and the Quincys of Boston, who
loved him well enough to give up, for his sake, the
substantial prosperity of her father's house, and
enter with him on a life which was destined to be
a very hard struggle indeed, until that glad day
when the splendid and phenomenal success of their
daughter Louisa turned poverty out-of-doors for-
ever. These improvident, unworldly lovers were
married in May; and in the November of the
same year they removed to Germantown, Pa.;
and it was in Germantown, on November 29,
1832, that Louisa May Alcott was. born. Con-
cerning this date she once wrote me: "The
same day was my father's own birthday, that of
Christopher Columbus, Sir Philip Sidney, Wendell
Phillips, and other worthies."
In 1834 the Alcotts removed from Germantown
to Boston, where Mr. Alcott opened a very remark-
able school. Miss Elizabeth Peabody afterward
described it in her book, entitled Record of
Mr. Alcott's School." One of Mr. Alcott's meth-
ods was to cause those who had failed in their
duties to punish him, instead of to be punished by
him; and one of his theories -the one which led
to the final disruption of his school-was that a
colored boy is as well worth teaching, and as much
entitled to instruction, as a white boy.
In 1839 Mr. Alcott finally abandoned school-
teaching; and in 1840 the family removed to
Concord, Mass., where, with the exception of two
brief experimental sojourns elsewhere, they con-
tinued to reside until within the last two or three
years, much of which has been passed in Boston.
I like to think of busy little Louisa,- eight years
old when she was taken to Concord. She was
full of glad, physical life. She used to run in the
fields, tossing her head like a colt, for the pure
pleasure of it. She tasted thoroughly the joy of
mere bodily existence; but she was full, also, of
the keenest intellectual activity and interest. She
made, at eight, her first literary essay, in the form
of an "Address to a Robin," which her proud


mother long preserved with tender care; and from
that she went on rhyming about dead butterflies,
lost kittens, the baby's eyes, and other kindred
themes, until, suddenly, the story-teller's passion
set in, and the world began to be peopled for her
with ideal shapes, and soon she began to write out
these tales in little paper-covered volumes, which
gradually formed quite a manuscript library in
" the children's room."
When Miss Alcott was sixteen, she wrote--for
Ellen Emerson's pleasure -her first real book.
It was entitled "Flower Fables," and was after-
ward published, though not until 1854, when the
author was twenty-two. It was too florid, and too
full of adjectives, and it made no real impression.
At sixteen, besides writing this book, Miss Alcott
began to teach school,- an employment she
never liked, though she pursued it, in one form
or another, for some fifteen years. Her first full-
grown romantic story was published when she was
nineteen, in Gleason's Pictorial," and brought
her the sum of five dollars,- the sufficiently small
and humble nest-egg of the fortune which had
amounted, before her death, to more than a hun-
dred thousand. The next year she wrote a story,
for which she received ten dollars; and this she her-
self dramatized, and it was accepted by the mana-
ger of the Boston theater, though, owing to some
disagreement among the actors, it was not put
upon the stage.
One November day-November seems to have
been an important month in her life -she went
away by herself to Boston, and had there the
experiences which she afterward wove into her
book entitled Work." The real story was
quite as pathetic as the romance. She had a
trunk -" a little trunk," she told me, filled with
the plainest clothes of her own making-and twenty
dollars that she had earned by writing. These
were her all,-no, not her all, for she had firm
principles, perfect health, and the dear Concord
home to retreat to in case of failure. But she
did not fail. By teaching, sewing, writing,-any-
thing that came to hand to be done,- she not only
supported herself during the long, toilsome years
before any grand, paying success chanced to her,
but sent home ever-increasing help to the dear
ones left behind. Ah, what a beautiful life it
was-lived always, from first to last, for others,
and not for herself !
There was one break in those busy, unselfish
years which witnessed a devotion more unselfish
still In the December of 1862 she went forth,
full of enthusiasm, to nurse in the Soldiers' Hos-
pital; blessing scores of dying beds with her bright
presence, and laboring unweariedly until she her-
self was stricken down with fever. I was never
VOL. XV.-40.

ill," she once said to me, until after that hospital
experience, and I have never been well since."
Hospital Sketches" was first published in 1865,
but was republished with considerable additions
in 1869. Even before Hospital Sketches,"
" Moods had been issued by Loring; and that also
was subsequently reprinted, with much revision.
In 1865, Miss Alcott first went to Europe, as the
companion of an invalid lady. She was gone
nearly a year, made many desirable acquaintances,
and greatly enlarged her outlook on life.
In 1868 twenty years ago Roberts Brothers,
of Boston, became Miss Alcott's publishers; and
it was at the suggestion of Mr. Niles, of this firm,
that she wrote Little Women,"- a story founded
on the home life of herself and her sisters. The
first part of this story was published in the Oc-
tober of 1868, and was cordially received; but it
was not until the issue of the second part, in the
April of 1869, that the world went wild about it,
and all in a moment, as it seemed, Miss Alcott
became famous. Since then she has known noth-
ing but success; and now, the summons of the
King has called her to come up higher.
Little Women" took such hold upon the world,

that when Little Men was issued its publication
had to be delayed until the publishers could be
prepared to fill advance orders for fifty thousand
copies. The list of her works, besides "Flower
Fables," "Moods," and Hospital Sketches," in-
cludes twenty-two volumes,- twenty-five books in
all,- and all, save Flower Fables," bear the im-
print of Roberts Brothers, who publish not only
the juveniles, but the revised editions of Moods "
and "Hospital Sketches." I must not omit a



twenty-sixth book, sent forth to the world anony-
mously, "A Modern Mephistopheles," a novel
included in the "No Name" series of her
Nearly all of her later books -" Eight Cousins,"
"Under the Lilacs," "Spinning-Wheel Stories,"
etc.- first appeared in the pages of ST. NICHOLAS ;
and hundreds of letters to the editor, from children
all over the English-speaking world, attest their
dear love for the author of these charming tales.
In writing to the editor of ST. NICHOLAS, just
before Christmas, Miss Alcott asked for the bound
volumes of last year, and added, "My Lulu adores
the dear books, and has worn out the old ones."
The "Lulu thus alluded to was Louisa May
Nieriker, the daughter of Miss Alcott's beloved
sister May, who was married in Paris in 1878, and
died there in 1879, leaving her newborn baby
to the care of her sister Louisa, whose dearest
treasure the little one has ever since been. To
lose this so tender care,--ah, what an irreparable
misfortune it is to the bright young life 1
While Miss Alcott was engaged on "Jack and
Jill," she wrote to the editor of this magazine:
"Don't let me prose. If I seem to be declining and falling into
it, pull me up, and I '11 try to prance as of old. Years tone down
one's spirit and fancy, though they only deepen one's love for the
little people, and strengthen the desire to serve them wisely as well
as cheerfully. Fathers and mothers tell me they use my books as
helps for themselves; so now and then I have to slip in a page for
them, fresh from the experience of some other parent, for education
seems to me to be the problem in our times.
'Jack and Jill' are right out of our own little circle, and the
boys and girls are in a twitter to know what is going in; so it will
be 'a truly story' in the main."

And in another letter to the editor of ST. NICHO-
LAS, Miss Alcott wrote:
If I do begin a new story, how would An Old Fashioned Boy'
and his life do?
You proposed a revolutionary tale once, but I was
not up to it. For this I have quaint material in my father'sjournals,
letters, and recollections. He was born with the century, and had
an uncle in the war of 1812, and his life was very pretty and pastoral
in the early days. I think a new sort of story would n't be amiss,
with fun in it, and the queer old names and habits. I began it long
ago, and if I have a chance, will finish off a few chapters and send
them to you."

How many plans that would have borne fruit
for the world's good and pleasure died with this
good and true woman when she died t The last
years of her life have been fuller of care and anxiety
than of literary work.
In 1882, Miss Alcott's father was stricken with
paralysis, and of her devotion to him since then it
would be impossible to speak too strongly. His
life has been a placid and not unhappy one, in
these years of failing strength; and he died peace-
fully on Sunday, March 4th, at the house of his
only other daughter, Mrs. Pratt, in Louisburg
Square, Boston. Only the Thursday before his

death Miss Alcott went to see him. He could not
speak. What are you thinking of, Father? said
the dear, well-known voice, which still had power
to call the light into his eyes, and a faint smile to
his speechless lips. He looked up toward heaven,
with a little gesture, by which his daughter under-
stood that his thoughts were already gone before
him, to the far world where the blest abide. "Great
Expecter Thoreau once called him; he has
followed Thoreau, now beyond our vision, into the
world of fulfilled expectations.
Miss Alcott was not with him at the last. It is,
perhaps, a year and a half since she came to see
me, one day, and spoke of her sufferings from some-
thing she then called "writer's cramp," but which
is now supposed to have been the beginning of
paralysis. She broke down completely nearly a
year ago, and placed herself under the care of Dr.
Lawrence, of Roxbury, with whom she has since
then resided.
A week before she died she wrote to a friend:
"You shall come and see me as soon as the doc-
tor will permit. Don't be anxious about me. I
shall come out a gay old butterfly in the spring."
And the very Saturday afternoon before she died
she wrote to a dear old friend : "I am told that
I must spend another year in this Saints' Rest,'
and then I am promised twenty years of health.
I don't want so many, and I have no idea I shall
see them. But as I don't live for myself, I will
live on for others." Farther on, in the same let-
ter, she referred to her father's impending death,
and added: "I shall be glad when the dear old
man falls asleep, after his long and innocent life.
Sorrow has no place at such a time, when Death
comes in the likeness of a friend."
Very soon after these words were written came
the attack which was to end all for her. She was
never once conscious after it had seized on her.
As one who falls asleep, she went out of this life,
having lingered, unconscious, upon death's thresh-
old, from Saturday night till the early dawn of
Tuesday morning. Had not Death come as a
friend, even to her, so loved, and missed, and
mourned for,- Death, who led her on, past fear,
past pain, past sorrow, past hope and dream, into
the eternal light, where her mother waited for
her; where was Beth, the loved, lost sister of her
childhood; and May, the dearest companion of
her maturer years; -where even he, their long
survivor, "the dear old man," who had lived in
Eternity, while yet he lingered on the shore of
Time had gone before her. Fond sister, loving
nephews, and little Lulu, dear darling of her last
busy years ;- friends, seen and unseen ah, how.
they all will miss her; but she--can she miss
anything who has found the very rest of God?






Stir ring it, pour ing it, dredg-ing it o ver, Fold ing. with

Pe-d--8-- ._--- ------------


Light as a feath er and


sweet as the do ver, Crimp ing with fin gers and pat ting with palms.


d _

Rolling it, rocking it, turning it over,
Pinching with fingers and pushing with palms;
Light as a feather and sweet as the clover,
Puffing and springing neathh fingers and palms.

Turning it, rocking it, rolling together;
Cutting it, moulding it, fingers and palms;
Sweet as the clover and light as a feather,
Into the pan with it, fingers and palms.



S',, HERE we go to the branches
S .,.. Here we come to the
"?" grasses low !
'" For the spiders and flowers
and birds and I
Love to swing when the
breezes blow.
Swing, little bird, on the
topmost bough;
Swing, little spider, with rope so fine ;
Swing, little flower, for the wind blows now;
But none of you have such a swing as mine.

Dear little bird, come sit on my toes;
I 'm just as careful as I can be ;
And oh, I tell you, nobody knows
What fun we 'd have if you 'd play with me!
Come and swing with me, birdie dear,
Bright little flower, come swing in my hair;

But you, little spider, creepy and queer,-
You'd better stay and swing over there !

The sweet little bird, he sings and sings,
But he does n't even look in my face;
The bright little blossom swings and swings,
But still it swings in the self-same place.
Let them stay where they like it best;
Let them do what they 'd rather do;
My swing is nicer than all the rest,
But maybe it 's rather small for two.

Here we go to the branches high !
Here we come to the grasses low !
For the spiders and flowers and birds and I
Love to swing when the breezes blow.
Swing, little bird, on the topmost bough;
Swing, little spider, with rope so fine;
Swing, little flower, for the wind blows now;
But none of you have such a swing as mine.



HAVE you ever seen a tailor sitting on a bench
in his shop? Because, if you have n't, just peep
through the window of the first tailor's shop you
pass, and take a good look at the man inside. He
will not mind your looking at him, if you don't
stay too long, and I want you to know just how
Tim looked one morning as he sat on the floor.
Not that Tim was a tailor,--for he was nothing at
all but a boy,-yet he sat there just like a tailor,
with his little legs curled up under him, and he
was trying to draw a horse.
He began with the horse's head, drawing in the
nose, ears, eyes (that is, one eye), the mouth, and
last the teeth. Tim took great pains with the
teeth, and put in as many as he could.
It was some time before the head was
done; and Tim was about to go on with
the rest of the body when his grand-
S father, who was mending the garden
gate, called out:
Tim, my little man, run up to the
barn and bring me the big hammer."
Tim was sorry to leave his work, but he was a
good boy, and also he liked to have his grandfather
call him his little man."
The "little man" did the errand in such a
hurry that he was nearly out of breath when he
reached the house, but was soon hard at work
The horse's fore-feet did not give Tim much
trouble because he had made up his mind precisely
how he was going to draw them.
Tim once saw a circus-horse dance to the tune
of Yankee Doodle," and he remembered exactly
how the horse put one leg straight out before him
while he curved up the other in a very graceful
way. So Tim drew the fore-legs just like those of
the dancing horse. At this point
the boy heard a great noise
among the chickens in the barn-
yard, and he knew at once that
Rover had broken loose and was
chasing the fowls all over the
yard. So he threw down his
paper and pencil and rushed out.
As soon as the big dog caught sight of the little
man, he walked back to his house very meekly, as

if he was not at all glad to see his young mas-
ter. But the chickens were very glad, indeed.
Tim tied Rover up again, and once more went
back to his task.
For a long time, in fact for nearly a year, he had
had an idea that the back of the horse might be
made more convenient for riding without a saddle,
and that there would be less danger of falling off if
the back were curved in more; and, although he
did not know just how to bring about this much-
needed change in the shape of the living horses he
had seen, he drew the back of the pictured horse
as he thought the back of a horse should be made.
Suddenly there was a loud ring from the front-door
bell. The boy knew that Sarah, the maid, was
out in the wash-house and that his mother was
busy upstairs, so he laid aside his work and went
to the front-door.
The visitor proved to be an old man who wanted
to know whether Mr. Jones" lived there?
Now, Tim did not know any one of that name,
but, as he wanted to help the stranger all he could,
he told him that a young friend of his who lived on
the corner of the first street below had a cousin who
knew some one of the name of Jones. Then the
man thanked him, and the little fellow trotted back
to his place on the floor.
Like a great many other boys, Tim was fond of
horses with long tails, and he liked to see them
spread out as they are when horses are leaping.
Tim drew the tail as he liked to see it; then he
made the two hind-legs, and after putting in some
grass for the horse to eat, so that he should not be
hungry, the picture was complete. Tim held the
picture up before him and did n't seem to think it
the least bit strange that the horse should be nib-
bling grass while his fore-feet were dancing and
the other two going over a fence! He was quite
sure, though, that he could have made a much
better horse if he had n't been called away so
many times, and he felt very sorry about it. I
think the horse looked sorry too.
A few moments later Tim carried the picture
out-of-doors to show to his grandfather, who was
still at work on the gate. The good old man laid
down his hammer on the ground and looked the
picture over with a great deal of care; he did n't


laugh, as many people would; and this is a very
good thing about grandfathers-they seldom make
fun of little boys, but help them when they can.

Tim told him what trouble he had to finish the
drawing, and then his grandfather said:
Well, my little man, there is one thing about

it,-you did n't in-ter-rupi yourself"-that was
the very word he used. "It was not your fault
that you could n't finish the drawing all at one
time, and I am very glad that you did n't put
down your paper and pencil to play with your
tool-box or express wagon, or to run out for a
frolic with Rover, but that you did your best
to finish the picture before taking up anything
Then Tim's grandfather again took up his ham-
mer, while the little artist walked slowly back to
the house with the picture held out before him.
"Anyway," said Tim, as he thought of his
grandfather's words, I did n't in-ter-rupt myself! "
And this thought was a great comfort to him.


THIS is no fancy picture. It is taken from a
photograph of a real cat and her adopted family
of chickens.
The lady who made the photograph, and kindly
sent it to ST. NICHOLAS, tells this story in an
accompanying letter:
"The owner of our good-hearted puss raised a
great many chickens; and out of each brood of
fifteen or twenty, when but a few days old, several

were quite likely to be weakly, and not able to
follow the old hen around with the rest of the brood.
These weaklittle chicks, therefore, were carried
into the house, and put with the cat on her cushion
by the fire. Though at first somewhat surprised,
she soon cuddled them up and purred over them
with apparent pleasure and pride; and when she
had looked after them for a day or two, she did
not take at all kindly to their removal."




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I CAN see the coming June in your bright young
faces, my friends, and with all my best joy I wel-
come her. What would this world be without
June-the rosiest, sweetest month of all the twelve!
And do you notice how wistfully May lingers, as if
longing to stay awhile with her And June always
seems to come in saying, "Don't go, May. There
is room for both of us."
THIS reminds me that spring fashions are not
yet quite out of date. Here they are the very
latest, as reported by your faithful J. M. L. :

THEY say bright red and purple will be the "latest
And worn by all the tulips in garden-beds this
The hyacinths and crocuses prefer much paler
The daffodils wear yellow the color seldom fades.

Of course, for small field-blooming the styles are
not so bright.
The daisies still continue to dress in simple white;
And clovers wear last season's shades all honor
to their pluck-
With now and then an extra leaf to bring the finder
ma'am says that her birds complain of great spiders
that kill them, especially of the mygale. As I have
to-day been reading about them in a delightful
book, called A World of Wonder," I send an
extract for your young hearers:
In the large tropical spiders the venom is so active that it instantly
kills animals of much greater bulk, and is employed against birds,

which the spider attacks on trees. The great bird-eating spider of
South America, the Mygale," is the most noticeable spider of this
class, and is dreaded by human beings as well as by the birds, its legs
attaining nearly a foot in length.
There are also spiders nearly as large as the fist, that sometimes
fasten on chickens and pigeons, seizing them by the throat and kill-
ing them instantly, at the same time drinking their blood.
So you see the birds have a good cause for alarm. M. K. D.


DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: The old city of
Rouen, in France, has a pretty sight that is worth
describing to your crowd of young folk. The
little men and maids are fond of looking-glasses, I
know; but I doubt if they all have heard of the
queer one of which I shall now tell them. Near
the west door of the church of St. Ouen, in this city
of Rouen, is a marble basin filled with water. It
is so placed that the water acts as a mirror, and in
the face of it one sees all the inside of the church.
Look down into the water, and you see pillars, and
the ceiling, and pictures and statuary, and nearly
all the interior ornamentation of the building.
The stately basin seems to take pride in holding
its beautiful picture of the church. 1 wish you
and all your hearers could see it.
Yours truly, M. E. L.


DEAR JACK: I want to tell you about a new
kind of a mouse-trap. It is the turtle. I never
saw one catch a mouse, but my cousin told me
about it.
She said they oiled its back and put it in the
cellar where there were a great many mice. After
a few days there did not seem to be many mice
around ; but as she did not think the slow turtle
could have caught them, she asked her boys to
So one day they put a mouse in the room, and
they sat upon a table. Pretty soon the mouse
came up and ran upon the turtle's back, and when
it was near the head, the turtle's head came out in
a hurry and caught the mouse. But I don't be-
lieve the turtle really ate the mouse; I think it
only squeezed the body between its shells. They
oiled its back so that the mouse would be attracted
by the odor.

Yours truly,

A. K. W.


DEAR JACK: Can I give you something that I
found in a delightful book called ':Among the
Azores "? It is about convicted criminals in Flores,
one of the Azores, where the law actually compels
a prisoner to become his own jailer He is given
the keys of the establishment, and is expected to
keep himself closely confined, but with extenua-
ting privileges. The liberties he enjoys, his freedom
from toil, the friends whom he admits to keep him
company, render his prison life rather a luxury
than otherwise. The windows of the prison are
always inviting to gossiping loungers, and it is
rumored that prisoners have been known even to


take pleasant rambles through the streets of the
city after dark. There is supposed to be a jailer
connected with the establishment, but he has an
easy time of it.

Ridiculous as this method of punishment may at first sight ap-
pear," the book says, "there is perhaps slight need for more rigid
discipline. The little island, only ten miles long by seven wide,
where everybody knows everybody else, would afford the escaped
prisoner scant opportunity for concealment, while the visits of vessels
are so few and uncertain that the hope of flight to foreign lands is
equally futile. Then, too, the people are far from being vicious, and
crime is not common. The judge informed us that no murder had
been committed for at least thirty-five years. Further back than that
the records fail to show, but not even the tradition of such a crime
exists. Thieving is almost unknown, and what little is discovered
is charged upon wicked visitors from other islands. This is the
record of a community of twelve thousand people. What wonder
that such a state of affairs lulls the natives intc ... security
which leads them to sleep at night with the I i houses
standing wide open."
MRS. LIZZIE HATCH asks me to tell you of a
little Jersey cow of her acquaintance. This cow,
she says, "comes and opens the gate into our
grounds when securely latched, and then she turns
round and shuts it tight, so that she may enjoy the
rich clover in peace and quiet."
That reminds me," says the same lady, "of
a little curly black cow my grandfather brought
from Russia. The animal would have died of
home-sickness if she had not formed a friendship
with a pig, on board ship; so Grandfather bought
the pig, and they were comrades for a long time.
The cow was named Bess, was very affectionate, and
she called on the neighbors every day. She always
knocked at their kitchen doors, and never went in
unless she was invited. They were fond of her.
One day Grandfather had an informal dinner-party.
The guests insisted on having Bess; so Grand-
father asked the man tending table' to open the
doors leading out upon the lawn, and called, 'Bess !
Bess !' Grandmother was quite shocked, but
Bess soon walked in. She behaved charmingly,
walked up to each one, put down her head for a
pat, and walked out again."


DEAR JACK: Of course you know that snake-
skins often are found in hedges and out-of-the-way
places. But did you ever hear of a toad-skin being
discovered in the same way ? I think not, and the
reason is that although toads cast off their old

skins they do not leave them lying about as the
snakes do.
One afternoon in early June, my little daughter
called me to see a toad in the grass that was acting
queerly," she said; he would keep perfectly motion-
less for a moment, and then wriggle and shake
and convulse himself just as a very fat person does
when laughing heartily. Next he put both hands
on the sides of his neck, and pulled and tugged at
what would be the collar of his coat; then, reach-
ing still further up, as if to scratch his back, he took
a good hold with both hands, stretched out his legs
straight behind him, lay flat on his front, and pulled
his whole skin over his head, shutting and flattening
down his two big eyes completely. He did not put
the skin on the ground, however, but directly into
his mouth, and swallowed it. Then he yawned two
or three times and brought himself together into
his usual squatting position, seeming mightily well
pleased to find himself in a bright spotted coat,
tight, speckled breeches and gloves, and a wonder-
fully snug-fitting white vest, and every article of
them perfectly new. A. L. B.


WHO can give me correct information concern-
ing the watch-dog battalion of the Prussian
army? I am told that there is such a thing, and
that the dogs are extremely capable and useful.
By the way, there are some dogs in my neigh-
borhood who have my full permission to go to
Prussia and enlist.

A FISH who was of the unfortunate sort,
And always complaining -a habit unwise,
Once saw a companion dart after a prize,
Sent down by some innocent lover of sport.

He 's got it! and so like my luck I declare,
He shot right a-past me Such things are not
fair! "
Sobbed the fish who had missed it -with other
Quite common to fish-folk, from minnows to
But learning, in time, of that cruel hook, baited:
Ah, how providential, he cried, that I
waited "





THE game of grommet-pitching has helped peo-
ple through many hours on shipboard, and I see
no reason why it should not be equally pleasing
on land. It is a great improvement on ring-toss,
which it somewhat resembles, and it has agreea-
ble features unknown to that game. The "grom-
mets" are rings of rope, made by the sailors; they
are light and pleasant to throw, never break, and
are very pretty when covered with bright ribbons
or braid. They are not difficult to make, and
are suitable for parlor or lawn, for girls or boys,
for old or young.
The game may be played by tossing grommets
of different sizes over a stake, and scoring points
according to the size of those thrown; but a new,
and perhaps a better way, is to toss them over
pegs placed in a board or wall. These pegs may
be numbered, each player counting according
to the number of the peg on which the grommet
catches; or prizes may be attached to some pegs,
and penalties to others.
Any handy boy can make grommets, if he has
a little rope. Let me tell you how. First decide
upon the size of the ring you wish. Then take
a piece of rope of the desired thickness, and about
three and a half times as long as the circum-
ference of the grommet you are about to make.
Suppose you begin on a small one, say six inches in
diameter. The circumference of this will be about
eighteen inches, and you will need a piece of rope
at least sixty inches long. As each grommet is
made of only one strand, this piece will make
three. Probably the best kind of rope for this pur-
pose is a good manilla clothes-line which has been
used a few weeks, so that it has become softened,
but not worn, and
has had all the ex-
tra twists pulled out
of it.
First separate the
piece into its three
strands, and taking
one in your left hand,
bend the middle part
of it into a ring, as
FIG. I. you see in Fig. i,
twisting it a little
tighter as you do so. Hold the loop, or bightt,"
as sailors say, toward you and pass the left-hand
end of the strand under the right-hand end. Now
make this loop into a three-strand rope, using

the two long ends for that purpose. To do this,
both of them must be wound around the loop
to take the place of the missing strands, and as
they keep their spiral shape you can easily do
this, taking one at a time, and putting it over and
under, and always twisting tighter the end you are
working on. When you have one strand twisted
in, it will look like Fig. 2.
Next take the second long
end and work it around,
over and under, twisting it
tightly as you go, and mak-
ing it lie smooth beside the
others. Now you have an
endless rope, smooth and
even, except where the two
ends meet, and here you
S have about four inches of
each end left over. In order
to dispose of these snugly,
FIG. 2. you must tie strings around
the rope on each side, about
an inch from the joining, to keep it in place while
you complete your work. Now carefully cut out
half of the rope-yarns from the under side of each
piece, and bind the end of what remains with
thread, to keep it from untwisting. Perhaps it
would be better for a beginner not to cut off these
yarns at first, but to bend them one side till he
has found out by one or two trials just the point
at which to cut.
Having done this, bend the ends around each
other as though you were going to tie them in
a knot; in fact, make the first tie of a knot
(which, you know, is made of two ties), draw
it tight, and hammer it down even, working it
smoothly into place by twisting the ring open at
that point, and pounding it and working it in. It
is impossible exactly to describe the method in
words, but it is easily learned by trying. To
fasten the ends, take a small spike, put it under
a strand next to the knot, and work the end on
that side through the opening. Then pass that
end over the next strand and under the third
strand from the knot, making the necessary open-
ing with the spike. Treat the other end in exactly
the same way, and then with a sharp knife cut off
what projects. The grommet will then look like
Fig. 3.
You can use the ring in its present shape, and it
will answer every purpose of the game, but it will


be much improved in looks by a braided covering,
of either ribbons or worsted braid. To prepare
the grommet for covering, wind a soft cord around
it, in the hollows between the strands, to make it
more round and even,
and easier to work over.
'Take some narrow rib-
bon and find how many
widths of it, laid parallel
to the rope, will about
cover it all around. Then
cut off twice as many
pieces of the ribbon, and
S place them around the
FIG. 3. rope in the way shown in
Fig. 4, with all the upper
pieces turned sharply to
the right, and all the
under pieces at the same
angle to the left, and tie "
them tightly in place with"
a strong thread. You
will probably have to do
this by placing one pair
on at a time, and giving
the thread one turn F. 4
around the rope to hold
them. Now, if you know the kindergarten way of
weaving colored-paper mats, the braiding will be
very easy to you. If you are not versed in this
art, look at the figure, and see how it is done by
weaving the ribbons over and under; every ribbon
going over one and under .the next. A little
practice will make this easy. You need not be
discouraged if your work does not look even and
regular as you go on; for when you have braided
nearly to the end, you can tie another string

around the rope to keep the ribbons in place;
and going over the whole with a knitting-needle
and your fingers, smooth and tighten and make
everything even and "ship-shape."
When the braid comes around to the place
where it began,
the ends may
be fastened by -
working each
one under one }
of the first made
plaits, sewing it
down, and cut-
ting it off closely
out of sight; _
thus making an
invisible ending.
An easier way is --
to wind a cord -
around so as to
hold all the ends
firmly, and then to cover the joining with a ribbon
tied in a bow on the outside.
If you wish a stake over which to throw the
grommets, make a cross of two pieces of thick
board or small timber, such as you have seen to
hold up Christmas-trees. Bore a hole in the mid-
dle of the cross, and fasten upright in this a piece
of broomstick, about two feet long. The stake may
be painted or, what is better, covered with a ribbon
braid to match the grommets. If you prefer to use
pegs, you can fasten common wooden hat-pegs into
holes made in a wide board that can be set up any-
where; or they can be set into a close board-fence
or wall. They should be arranged in some regular
plan, and variously numbered or painted, or wound
with colored ribbons, to distinguish them.




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

Miss AMlLIE RIVES, the author of the poem," The Butterfly's
Cousins," in this number of ST. NICHOLAS, sends us a few notes
concerning the rest-harrow flower mentioned in her verses. Miss
Rives says: It is an English wild-flower, which blooms in June,
July, and August. When it straggles into corn-fields it becomes (to use
the words of Anna Pratt, the author of the little volumes from which
I gathered my knowledge of the plant) a very troublesome plant, for
its long and tough roots retard the progress of the plow, while its
numerous and thorny branches are so great an impediment to the
action of the harrow, as to have obtained for the plant its old English
name. Equally old and significant is that by which it is known in
France, where it is commonly called Arrete-Bocuf.
"I do not know whether it grows in America or not."

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have read the story Diamond-backs in
Paradise," and I would like to tell you and your readers that my
grandfather, who was stopping at the same house at the time, skinned
the snake that Dotty saw in the path, and brought the skin home
with him; so that part of the story was familiar to me.
I take the ST. NICHOLAS this year, and enjoy it very much.
Your loving friend, BELLE M. S--.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little boy eight years old. I liked
"Sara Crewe; or, What Happened at Miss Minchin's," very much.
I live in the north-western part of Minnesota, and it is cold and
very stormy; a regular blizzard here to-day.
I have a pet cat. He used to mew to get in, but now it is cold,
with all the doors shut, we can not hear him. So one day when I was
in the wood-shed, playing, I heard the door-knob rattle. It was not
a windy day, so I thought it must be some one. I opened the door,
and there was the cat on a high box wanting to come in, and he
jumped down and came in. He has done that ever since when he
wants to get in the house, and we think it is bright of him. His
name is Tip; I named him that because he has a white tip on the
end of a black tail. I like your Letter-box" very much.
Yours, truly, CALVIN T. H-, JR.
I did not write this. I just told what to write.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am very fond of your lovely magazine.
I have never seen a letter in the Letter-box from Indian River,
Florida. I can see the river from our window, and it is only a min-
ute's walk down to it. My home is in Titusville, yet Papa has taken
us very often out in a sail-boat, and I have been up and down Indian
River, and all around Merritt's Island, and camped on Banana River,
so I was very much interested in C. H. Webb's Diamond-backs in
Paradise," in the February number. One time we moored our boat
on the western shore of Banana River. Papa, Mamma, and my sis-
ter and myself set out to tramp to the beach. We passed through a
trail that looked very much like the one pictured on page 268. We
had to go single-file, and as we neared the beach, right in our path,
lay the largest snake I ever saw. It measured six or seven feet long.
It was a diamond-back.
The President and Mrs. Cleveland visited Titusville, and went
down Indian River on the steamer Rockledge." The steamer was
decorated in true tropical splendor, all fruits and flowers. I have
lived in Paradise" nearly two years and love all of it.
Hoping this is not too long to print,
I remain, your loving reader, BIRDIE H-.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I was very anxious that you should know
the result of the operetta, The Children's Crusade," that was given
by the Jewish Walnut Hills Sabbath-school last month, because it
was taken from your book. We send you many thanks, and are
very grateful for the idea of the operetta.
After a great many rehearsals, it was produced Saturday night,
February 25th, the date of the Feast of Purim. This feast is cele-

brated in commemoration of the deliverance of the Israelites, through
the assistance of Mordecai and Esther, from the designs of Haman,
who, with the aid of Ahasuerus, king of the Medes and Persians,
had resolved to destroy all the Jews residing in those kingdoms.
The operetta was loudly applauded by a large audience, which was
highly entertained. The costumes were similar to those mentioned
in the book, and the children who took part were much younger,
but they all performed excellently.
After the performance we had refreshments, and each one who
took part was presented with a box of candy. In all probability it
will be repeated for some benefit at an early day.
Your loving reader, MAY S--.

THE wife of an eminent naturalist sends us the following pathetic
verses, adding in the letter which accompanies them: Oh, there is
so much I don't tell! "


By M. C. B.

You may talk of the joy of a naturalist's life,
You '11 excuse me, I hope, if I doubt it-
For really unless you 're a naturalist's wife,
You know very little about it.
Say, how would you like it, to open a box
Just to peep at its contents a minute,
To find that, instead of some fossils or rocks,
There 's a rattlesnake coiled up within it ?
Do you think you would like it yourself?

Or when, in the spring, you are cleaning your house -
You will hardly believe, if you 're told it-
You find he has pickled a lizard or mouse
In some jar that was handy to hold it ?
Or some nice little box that you treasured with care
For your ribbons, or feathers, or laces,
To find that its contents are tossed in the air,
And reptiles are filling their places -
Do you think you would like it yourself?

Just fancy your mind, on an opera night,
When you take from a bandbox your bonnet,
And find, to your great consternation and fright,
A horned frog is resting upon it !
Or cautiously open your top bureau drawer,
Where you hear a mysterious scratching,
To find, in your elegant satin mouchoir
Case, some young alligators are hatching.
Do you think you would like it yourself?

Unsuspecting, you open your dining-room door;
At the table he 's skinning some creatures,
While your innocent baby is crawling the floor,
With arsenic spread on his features !
So far, we have barely escaped with our lives.
But the fleasire!- oh, really, I doubt it;
And unless you are, some of you, naturalists' wives,
You can know very little about it.
Do you think you would like it yourself?

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : Your March number has just reached me.
I enjoyed reading it very much, and as we are at present traveling


abroad, Mr. Frank Stockton's article on The People we Meet"
interested us greatly, as we have met a number of the sort of
people he describes. The other day an American lady at our hotel
was walking in the garden with her little girl, who was talking Ger-
man. An English gentleman of her acquaintance happened to come
up at the moment, and asked the lady where the child had learned
the language. When she told him that it was in New York, he ex-
pressed his surprise by saying he had no idea that there were any
facilities for studying foreign languages in America. A young lady,
also from New York, who is here, was asked by a young English-
man who had just passed his examinations'. ....... I.
whether New York was much larger that. ..... ..,
must know, has a population of about 19,coo inhabitants.
While here I have come across a French magazine for young
folks, bearing your name, and with several illustrations which 1
have seen in your numbers. Otherwise it is entirely different, and
not nearly so interesting as yours is.
Your interested reader, FLORENCE E--

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I like you very much, but I have never
written to you before. I have an aunt who has taken you quite a
while. Every time I went to see her I would ask her if ST.
NICHOLAS had come, but now I take it myself.
I have a little black dog that was given to Papa, and he gave it to
me. We have another dog, too, and he is very jealous of "Mac,"
for that is the little dog's name.
I read Little Lord Fauntleroy," and like it very much. "Juan
and Juanita is my other favorite.
Your reader, SAMs. G. C-.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I commenced taking you last summer.
I am very much interested in the stories. Our city is on the bank
of Lake Michigan. The buildings are mostly ofcream-colored brick;
some paint them red to look like the Eastern buildings. Just out-
side of the city is the Soldiers' Home. It is a lovely place; the
buildings are situated in the midst of natural woods. The trees are
cleared out enough to let the sunshine on the building, while drives,
winding paths, and beautiful flower-beds are all around the place.
There are about twelve hundred soldiers living there. Some of them
are growing old. I have heard that the city wants the place for a
park when the soldiers are through with it, as we have no park in
the city, of any size.
I like the story of Sara Crewe," but I like The Brownies best.
I hope you will have lots more of them.
Your faithful reader, CHARLIE S-.

ANDovER, N. B.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl ten years old. I live in
New Brunswick. Two miles from where I live is an Indian village.
It is just at the mouth of the Tobique River, in which salmon and
trout are caught; sportsmen use the Indians as guides. The Indians
have quite nice houses, and many have organs and sewing-machines.
I am yours, very sincerely, LOUISE P-- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I wrote you a letter last summer. A few
weeks ago my brother and 1 went to Trenton by ourselves and had
a splendid time. We spent from Friday to Monday. When we
were in Trenton I saw a policeman take six men to jail, and one of
them had no jacket, and no hat and shoes. Trenton has the finest
potteries in the United States; I once went to the potteries there,
but it was so long ago that I don't remember anything about them.
I go to school right next door, so I don't have far to go. A few
weeks ago I went to the Zoo, and had a very nice time there; I saw
all the animals, but they were not out of their cages, because it was
too cold. So I went in the houses and saw 1 -al to look at
and amuse me; there was one house that I of all, and I
will tell you what it is, it is the bird-house ; two or three birds were
in one cage, and sometimes they would fight and make a great noise,
and you could not hear yourself speak ; but there was one bird that
I liked best of all, and that was the parrot; lie would say, when any
body came to look at him, How do you do? all the time till you
went away, and when you were going he would say, Good-bye,
good-bye"; it was very funny to hear him; he said it in such a
funny way. Good-bye.
I remain your faithful reader, IMADGE H. Y.

Mv DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am nine years old. I have been
confined to my bed for the past ten months. My eldest sister gave
you to me last Christmas, and I look impatiently for you every

I have a cat and a dog, and a great many pretty playthings.
1 enjoy "The Brownies" very much, and am disappointed when
I look through the book and find they are not in it. 1 have a magic
lantern and spend many pleasant evenings showing it.
Your constant leader, C. ALBERT G-- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We are two little girls who have taken
you for a long, long time, and we think you are perfectly lovely.
We each have our favorite instrument: one plays on the piano and
the other on the violin. We are very fond of the puzzles and do
nearly all of them; we tried making the paper ball mentioned in the
March number and succeeded very nicely, and also the Nantucket
sinks that were published several months ago. We hope there will
be some more directions for folding paper in different ways, as we
like to do them so much. Hoping to see this letter in some future
number, and wishing you a long and prosperous life,
We remain, your loving readers,
C. D. Du B- and A. C. L--.

DEAR ST. NICHIOLAS: I thought that perhaps some of your
readers would like to hear about my home, which is so different
from all that I read in your interesting pages. If you do not
mind my incorrect English I will try to tell you something about it.
It is quite an out-of-the-way place, hardly known, even by French
people of other regions. Our peasants are still very ignorant, though
they are not at all stupid; they have kept up some customs from
the time of the Druids, and when we tell them that they are super-
stitious, they answer, good-humoredly, It can be," or You know
better than we do but their belief is not shaken in the least.
Their language is rather difficult to understand at first, for they
speak the ancient French, with a queer singing accent. They used
to have a very pretty picturesque costume, but, unfortunately, only
the old people wear it now. When one of them is ill, it is nearly
impossible to make them send for a doctor; they have much more
confidence in wizards or witches, who mutter incoherent words over
the patient, blowing in his mouth if he suffers from a sore throat, or
tying a string round his waist it he has pains in the chest. The
peasants never speak out the names of these people, but simply call
them "fiersons. (" I called the person," the ersn came," etc.)
Quite lately a poor woman died of the croup, and her children told
us: "We had everything for her, and the fierson saw her three
times "
I fear this letter is getting too long, but if you should like to hear
more about my dear Bourbonnais, I would enjoy writing again.
Believe me, yours sincerely, CrC LE Y--.

MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I enjoy taking you very much, and
love you more every month. I have taken you eleven months-
nearly a year. am a little American girl, but live in China.
My friend Alice Winsor lives here also, and we are nearly always
Alice has taken ST. NICHOLAS nearly two years, and she enjoys
you very much, I think.
My favorite stories are "Je.... 1 ., I. I .. ," "Juan and
Juanita," and "Winning a (1 .... ... i eai I like all the
Alice Winsor and I play paper dolls, and I have four. Now I
will close, for I fear my letter is too long.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I never yet have seen a letter from Flens-
burg in your Letter-box," so thought I would send you one. Flens-
burg is an old town in the Province of Schleswig," and belonged
from olden time, till the year 1863, to Denmark. Then it was con-
quered by the Prussians, who now try their best to make a German
town of it. I, too, learn German here, but as an American boy I try
to keep tp my English, and your dear magazine is a great help to
me in this. You are to me like a dear friend from home; I always
long for you, and love you dearly. I like "Juan and Juanita"
very, very much, and would give anything to have a bow like
I was very sick last year. When I grew better a canary-bird was
given to me; he is my pet, and I could tell you many things about
him, but I fear the letter will get too long.
I am your devoted reader, ERNST C. B--.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I was glad that you had in the last number
an article about the child pianist little Josef Hofinann.
Is lie not wonderful ? I have heard that he wishes to be an en-
gineer. He went to the Berkeley school drill one day, and the
principal presented him with the gun, cap, sword, shoulder-tabs, and


belt worn by the boys. He was much delighted, and while he was
giving concerts put them on whenever he was not playing.
I think that, aside from his genius in music, he is a very interesting
He one day showed me three of his oil-paintings, and I think that
he paints beautifully. One was a meadow with a good many soft
green trees in it, and a brook running through it was very good.
He has never had a painting lesson, so I think that his skill is
wonderful. Sincerely, G. G. D-- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAs: I think you are the best magazine ever
published, and I have had the pleasure of reading you regularly
since July, 1887, and I mean to take you a good deal longer. I like
the stories written by Win. H. Rideing and Frank R. Stockton;
I like "Drill," too.
Last summer my sister had two white rats; they were very cun-
ning, and would run up my sleeve and come out of my neck. One
day she took them to Prospect Park, and soon a crowd were admir-
ing them for their funny antics. Soon after one died and the other
ran away. We now have a cat, but as I am a boy I do not care so
much for her, and would rather have the rats.
Your constant reader, JOE.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I want to write and tell you about a trip
I made a while ago to the great bronze image of Buddha, called
Daibutsu, which stands in a pretty nook among some hills about
twenty miles from Yokohama. We started from our house at about
ten o'clock A. M. The first part of our journey we did by rail,
and then followed a ride of about an hour and three-quarters by
Jinrikisha. The scenery was very pretty, the rice-fields, and hills,
and here and there farm-house ora shrine nestling among the trees.
However, we were very glad when we arrived at our destination, for
we were all ready for lunch. The image is in a sitting position, with
its hands folded on its lap. It is about fifty feet high, ninety-eight
feet around its waist, the diameter of its lap is thirty-six feet, and its
stone pedestal is four and a half feet high. Inside of the image is a
temple in which there are two windows high up in the back, and in
the head, which is hollow, stands an image of gold of one of the Japan-
ese gods. It is said that once when Buddha sat down to rest, snails
came and crawled upon his head to shield him from the sun, so on
the head of the figure are knobs intended to represent snails. There
used to be a large temple over it, but it and the great city surrounding
it were destroyed by a flood, for it stands in sight of the sea, and now
there are only a few houses where once was the capital of the empire.
We live in sight of the beautiful mountain Fujiyama, or "peerless
mountain." It is about sixty miles from here. Its snow-covered
sides form an almost perfect cone with a flat top. It used to be a
volcano, but is now extinct.
I do like your stories so much, especially "Donald and Dorothy,"
"Juan and Juanita," and Little Lord Fauntleroy." My aunt has
sent you to me since x880, and I think you are the nicest magazine
I ever saw. Now I must stop, for I 'm afraid I 've made my letter
too long already. LoUISE L-- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have often thought of writing to you,
but never have ventured to do so until now. I take the beautiful
ST. NICHOLAS, and think all the stories it contains are lovely.
The Letter-box" also is very interesting. I go to school, and study
nearly all of the common branches and drawing. I like drawing
best of all. My chief delight is riding on horseback. I can ride
either standing or sitting.
I have a very nice pony. I live near a village of six hundred in-
habitants. Along the southern portion of the village is a small river
named Still Water, because its waters are so very still.
I remain, your devoted reader, LAURA C- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We have read with great interest in the
March number about "A Pig That Nearly Caused a War"; par-
ticularly so, as Mr. Henry Miles, who lives here, and is a friend of
my father, knew both Stubbs and Griffiths and all about the "pig."
Mr. Miles says that it was Captain Pickett who was in command of
the company of Soldiers who first took possession of San Juan Isl-
and. Lieutenant-Colonel Casey took command soon after. This
Captain Pickett is the General Pickett who afterward led the famous
charge of the Confederates at the battle of Gettysburg. Mr. Miles
is the man who first raised the stars and stripes on San Juan Island
at the time Captain Pickett took possession.
I have written this in the hope that it might be of interest to some
of your readers.
Your sincere friend, ANNE GREY ---

DEAR ST NICHOLAS : I have taken you for a long time, but I
have never written to you before. My mother and sister Dorothy

are in the east, and Bertha, Claude and I are with my aunt Fanny.
Bertha is only six years old, and Claude four, so they can't read
you, but I read the stories to them. Claude says, to tell you that
if that Chinaman "Brownie is high-toned enough to associate
with the Dude," he ought to have a longer pig-tail. Last night
Marie (my nurse) told me of L. M. Alcott's death; Marie has seen
her twice, and once spoke to her. She felt very sorry. I am afraid
that I have made some mistakes, but as I am not yet nine you must
excuse Your little reader, IRENE.

MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Your magazine has been a welcome
visitor to our house since 1879, when I was three years old.
My little sister, Alice, used to cry for the Nicholy" when she
was only two years old. The first time we knew she could read all
alone by herself was when we found her in the bay-window with the
"Nicholy" on the floor before her, laughing over the story of
"The Little Girl that Stood on Her Head."
We consider you, dear ST. NICHOLAS, a necessary member of the
family, and never tire of your stories, but I like Frank R. Stock-
ton's stories the best of all.
I wish you visited every boy and girl in the world as well as

DEAR ST. NICHOLAs: My papa is agent at this agency, the
Shoshone agency in Wyoming. There are two tribes of Indians here,
the Shoshones and Arapahoes; their chiefs are very fine Indians.
Washakie, the chief of the Shoshones, and Black Goat, the chief of
the Arapahoes; we have them to dinner sometimes. Black Goat
has as nice manners as any gentleman I ever saw. The Indians
make very pretty things, such as -war-bonnets, and war-shirts, and
very pretty bead-work, and moccasins. The Sioux and the Utes
come and trade with our Indians every summer.
Your affectionate reader, ROBERT L. J- .
P. S.-We have taken you ever since 1877.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am ten years old. This is the eighth
year my Papa has taken the ST. NICHOLAS for me. I liked Little
Lord Fauntleroy" and "Juan and Juanita" very much. I look
anxiously for Brownies in every number.
I live in the oil country, and my Mamma uses gas for fuel and
I hope you will print this letter, as it is the first one I have ever
written you. Your friend, Roy M. C-

WE thank the young friends, whose names are here given, for their
pleasant and interesting letters:
E. E. Mahonie, Grace L. Kelsey, Edith Brown, Lynn W. Clark,
J. B. R., Robbie W. P., Elton E., Mary von Klenck, Lil, Mary E.
Sigsbee, Percy, Reggie, and Malcolm Murray, Florence Merryman,
Marie W. S., Laura H. M., Lottie Innis, Bertrand Robertson,
Harold Hepburn, Maude A. Flentye, Virgie H., S. E. G., Bennie
E. Lovemann, Jeanette H., Bessie G. B., Anna Julia Schlund,
Mattie E. Harlow, Roxalene and W. R. Howell, Montrose J. M.,
"Three Little Maids from School," Edith M. and Bessie W.,
Clementine W. Kellogg, "Puss," "Nellie," Gertrude Harrison,
Helen R. Fish, Alixe De M., Emma Y. Dimon, Percy E. Thomas,
Emma C. F., Mabel G., Lillie Fisher, Daisy M. Tabor, Jessie T. Hal-
lam, Louise N., Bertha Beerbourer, Fredericka W., Veni McDon-
ald, Josephine Murphy, Nellie B. Warfield, Clara M. Danielson,
Katie L. Aller, Elsie Sanderson, Maud Moore, Aimee M. Bakeman,
Dorothy Whitney, Alice J. Tufts, Ethel C., Will L. S., Orlie S. L.,
Edith C. Curtis, Frank D. Cargill, Evelyn K., Mary M. H., Clara
L. L., Katie B. Davis, Ray Helen Bierce, Aleck D., Currie F. Aux-
ter, Laura Dolbear, Charles Johnson, May Ward, Herbert C. Davis,
Jennie C. B., Annie M. Osborn, Caro. H. B., Rudy Cole, Ella M.
Fischer, Anna I. V. S., Alice E. T., George K. Curtis, Mabel Bos-
worth, Helen R. N., Agnes Duhring, Kennedy Allen, Blanche F.,
Emma, Harry, and Bertie Fisher, F. M. L., Eliza R. Boyd, Clara
Cook, Fannie W. C., Mary L. McKoy, Bessie Lasher, Carl Russel
Lee, Eleanor May, Georgia W., Lydia B., Alberta B., Browny and
Gipsy B., Nellie A. Black, Alice E. Lewis, Katrina, Gertrude, and
Carl Ely, H. B. J., May A. Bannister, Mabel L. Lamborn, Gardi-
ner Tyler, Mary Lee Allen, Katie Troy, Effie S. Woolwine, Georgie
E. Ross, Emily V. Clark, and Morris P. Tilley.




WORD-SQUARE. I. Barb. 2. Aloe. 3. Rosa. 4. Bean.
CUBE. From I to 2, horizon; 2 to 4, nebular; i to 3, halibut;
3 to 4, teacher; 5 to 6, sapient; 6 to 8, trachea; 5 to 7, Siberia; 7
to 8, Agrippa; I to 5, Huns; 2 to 6, neat; 4 to 8, rana; 3 to 7, toga.
DOUBLE CENTRAL ACROSTIC. Third row, printing; fourth row,
invented. Cross-words: i. rePIne. 2. hoRNet. 3. shIVer. 4.
teNEts. 5. caTNip. 6. smIThy. 7. hoNEst. 8. BaGDad.
RHOMBOID. Across: i. Katie. 2. Nodal. 3. Merit. 4. Sleep.
5. Snail.
ACROSTIC. First row, Heir of Redclyffe; third row, Charlotte M.
Yonge. Cross-words: I. HaCkney. 2. EcHinus. 3. IdAlian.
4. ReRedos. 5. ObLique. 6. FeOdary. 7. RaTable. 8. En-
Traps. 9. DeEpens. To. CoMment. Ix. LaYland. 12. YeO-
man's. 13. FaNtasm. 14. FaGging. 15. EvEning.
MALTESE CROSS. From I to 3, pasha; 4 to 5, ace; 6 to 7, act;
S to ao, break; n1 to 13, opium; 14 to 15, gnu; z6 to 17, Esk; 18
to 20, Creon; 2 to 9, science; 12 to g1, incense.

A DIAMOND. 1. C. 2. Lot. 3. Henri. 4. Leading. 5. Con-
ductor. 6. Tricked. 7. Inter. 8. God. 9. R.

PI. Mark how we meet thee,
At dawn of dewy day !
Hark! how we greet thee
With our roundelay i
While all the goodly things that be,
In earth, and air, and ample sea,
Are waking up to welcome thee
Thou merry month of May!

BEHEADINGs. Beheaded letters, May-day. i. M-arc-h. 2.
A-ton-e. 3. Y-eve-n. 4. D-air-y. 5. A-men-d. 6. Y-ear-n.
ZIGZAG. Chancellorsville. Cross-words: Cell. 2. sHam. 3.
clAn. 4. braN. 5. taCt. 6. tEal. 7. Loon. 8. aLar. 9. drOp.
o1. geaR. Ir. vaSt. 12. aVer. x3. Ibex. r4. aLms. 15. haLo.
i6. ElbE.

To OUR PUZZLERS: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the i5th of each month, and
should be addressed to ST. NICHOLAS Riddle-box," care of THE CENTURY CO., 33 East Seventeenth St., New York City.
ANSWERS TO ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE MARCH NUMBER were received, before March 5bth, from Grace Kupfer-Paul Reese-
Maud E. Palmer- Russell Davies A. Fiske & Co.- Socrates "- Sydney- K. G. S." Shumway Hen and Chickens" -
Jo and I- Infantry Ruth and Rob Ada C. H.-" Jamie and Mamma"- H. A. R. and A. C. R.- Francis W. Islip.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE MARCH NUMBER were received, before March I5th, from M. and R. Davis, i--"Scorchie," i-
Lily of the Valley, I C. L. S., I Tabby, I Tommy, Hildegarde, I Edith T. B., I Geo. W. Bacon, 2 Harry H. Miller,
I- J. B. Scullin, i-- Fritz Abeken, I N. O., I- M. Snowball S., 2- Rahry Namrod, Elsie P., 3 Bessie M. Clarke, I -Helen
Fitch, I Warren B. Call, I W. D. Ward, i Jennette C. Vorce, 4 P. and B. Kennedy, 2- Edith A. Armer, 2 "What Say ?"
3 E. M. G., i Daisy S., I Nellie and Reggie, to Fred Shaw, i "May and 79," 8 E. C. F. and M. R. F., i Kittie Anger,
I Rosalie B., 4 Minnie Deppe, i James W., 2 Jennie S. Liebman, o Lehte," 9 Grace Hodson, 2- "Alpha, Alpha, B.
C.," 9-"Merry Three," I- Nellie L. Howes, o--Jay Larel, Jr., so--S. and B. Rhodes, 8-" Three Graces of Newark," 3-
Kafran Emdrawit, 8 Rag Tag," 7 Katie Hudson, I Skipper," 3 Mollie Cleary, Effie K. Talboys, 8 Orange and Black,"
i -"Twin Elephants," 4-Nannie D. and Lillian S., 4-No Name, Beacon St., 9-Edith and Nanie, 8-"Bobby O'Link," 4-
"Ducky Daddies," 8- "Electric Button and Patrick," 5- Irma Moses, i Allan F. Barnes, W. R. Moore, o- L. R., 2 Pet
and Pug, -"Patty-pan and Kettle-drum," 4-" Donald and Dorothy," 7-" Sally Lunn," 7-"Lock and Key," i-Adrienne For-
rester, 2 -Mary von Klenck, i E. M. S., o C. and E. Ashby, io-Harry W. and Ruby M., Belle Larkin, i-" Pop and I," 3.


INSERT a vowel wherever there is an x in the fifteen sentences
which follow. When they are complete, select a word of five letters
from each sentence. When these fifteen words are rightly selected
and placed one below the other, the central row of letters, reading
downward, will spell what June is often called:



a. A HEATHEN. 2. A century plant. 3. Diversions. 4. To turn
away. 5. Cosy places. BERTIE B.


I AM composed of sixty-nine letters and form two lines of a poem
by Cowper.
My 25-65-35-9 is a portion. My 69-5-59 is an animal of the stag
kind. My 23-55-11-47 is to chop into small pieces. My 8-43-30-
52 is departed. My 18-15-49 is to buzz. My 63-38-28-32 is a fish.
My 4-57-45-68-26 is to revolve. My 37-21-19-53-17-6-3 is to prate.

My 42-24-62 is a bird of the crow family. My 2-67-16-38 is aknob-
My 61-50-z4-27 is a hautboy. My 66-34-60-1-41 are members of a
religious community. My 29-48-64-22 is the Runic letter or charac-
ter. My 54-3-5r-44-31-46 is the name of a famous American scholar,
lecturer, poet and 39-40-20; my 33-56-36-12-10-7 is an adjective
that no one can apply to him. "AUGUSTUS G. HOPKINS."

ALL the words described contain the same number of letters; the
two central rows of letters, reading downward, form two words; one,
a common flower; the other, the sacred plant of the Druids.
CROSS-WORDS : I. An insane man. 2. A fish that swims on its
side, and has both its eyes on one side. 3. A chief magistrate in
ancient Rome. 4. A kind of grass highly valued for pasturage. 5.
Certain mollusks used for food in England. 6. A piece of money
mentioned in the Bible. 7. A swelling of the neck, peculiar to some
parts of Switzerland. 8. Inclines forward. 9. Muscular.


MY first is a kind ofa fling;
My second, a very small word;
My third, though oft on the head,
Is fatal to fish and to bird.
The whole, if the three are apart,
Will mean, "make ready one snare ";
United and handled with art,
It graces a dance or an air.


I. BEHEAD an animal and leave part of a skillet. 2. Behead to
disclose and leave to write. 3. Behead an indication and leave
persons. 4. Behead refined and leave a brittle substance. 5 Be-
head a delightful region and leave a retreat.
The beheaded letters will spell the name of an American pioneer
and explorer, who was several times captured by Indians.




STIC. same as the first cross-word. 5. A spar bymeans of which the main-
sail of a small vessel is extended. 6. An organization for playing
the national game. 7. One who enrolls or records. 8. The same as
the first cross-word. E. E. ADAMS.


Two verses of a certain poem may be found in the following para-
S- graphs:
He art hesk ylar kint heel oudh ear the cric keti nth egras stril
lin gblit hen esscle ara ndl oudch irping gle eto allow hop ass. Oht
hem err ysum merl aye art hand skyke epho liday.
He arth ele avest hat kiss th eair, he art hela ugh tero ftheb eesw
hor emem bers win terc are int hes hining day sli keth ese ? Oht
hem erryl ayofjun eal lour hear tsar egla dint une.


I,. I. A Scriptural proper name (meaning "a thorn ") mentioned
-*'v ;- -in the fiftieth chapter of Genesis. 2. Implied. 3. A shrub. 4. The
S' surname of a great English novelist, who died on June 9th. 5. A
particular sort of thrust in fencing. 6. The joint formed by the
astragalus. 7.- A prophet.
II. i. The forward part of a vessel, 2. Outer garments worn
by the ancient Romans. 3. A prophetic nymph from whom Numa
claimed to have received instructions respecting forms of worship
which he introduced. 4. A famous battle fought on June 14, x8oo.
S 5. A vocalist. 6. A deputy. 7. Refuse of hay.
S III. x. An old word meaning." a deception." .2. The brother
of Rebekah, mentioned in the twenty-fourth chapter of Genesis.
3. Habitations. 4. A President of the United States who died on
June, 2, 1836. 5. To settle. 6. Parts of shoes. 7. A collection
of boxes, of graduated size. F. S. F.

MY first is in evil, but not in good;
My second, in bonnet, but not in hood;
My third is in arrow, but not in bow;
My fourth is in robin, but not in crow;
My fifth is in summer, but not in the fall;
N My sixth is in stutter, but not in a drawl:
My whole was a Frenchman, a painter of fame,
His birthday, June 30. Now, what is his name ?

By starting at the right letter in one of the following words, and
S then taking every third letter, a famous event which took place in
June, x838, may be formed:

S. .4

57 ... 8

'THE nine words of this acrostic are pictured instead of described.
When the words are rightly guessed, and placed one below the other,
in the order in which they are numbered, the central letters will spell
the name of a famous sovereign of ancient history.

My primals and finals are the same as the first cross-word.
CROss-wORDS: I. A castle in Spain. 2. The quantity contained
in aladle. 3. A convulsive sound which comes from the throat. 4. The


I. FRom i to 2, a covering; from 2 to 4, always on the supper-
table; from I to 3, engraved;, from,3 to 4, to manage; from 5 to 6,
fermenting preparations; from 6 to 8, attends; from 5 to 7, at a dis-
tance yet within view; from 7 to 8, parches;- from i to 5, to surfeit:
from 2 to 6, sailors; from 4 to 8, wooden vessels; from 3 to 7, an
II. From i to 2, strong ropes or chains; from 2 to 4, imprints;
from i to 3, a very small room; from 3 to 4, vagrants; from 5 to 6,
to spice; from 6 to 8, nicely; from 5 to 7, darkness; from 7 to 8,
bleak; from r to 5, covered carriages; from 2 to 6, indication; from
4 to 8, to kill; from 3 to 7, an old word meaning "to believe."


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