Front Cover
 The gold that grew by Shasta...
 The snow flowers
 The white pasha
 The bells of Ste. Anne
 Seeing the real mikado
 Lassoing a sea-lion
 An invitation
 The routine of the republic
 A modern middy
 A rose in a queer place
 The discontented snow-flake
 The ballad of a runaway donkey
 The bunny family in trouble
 Somebody's valentine
 Cup and saucer: The new babes in...
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover

Title: St. Nicholas
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00209
 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: VID00209
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
    The gold that grew by Shasta town
        Page 243
        Page 244
    The snow flowers
        Page 245
    The white pasha
        Page 246
        Page 247
        Page 248
        Page 249
        Page 250
        Page 251
        Page 252
        Page 253
        Page 254
        Page 255
        Page 256
    The bells of Ste. Anne
        Page 257
        Page 258
        Page 259
        Page 260
        Page 261
        Page 262
        Page 263
        Page 264
    Seeing the real mikado
        Page 265
        Page 266
        Page 267
        Page 268
        Page 269
        Page 270
        Page 271
        Page 272
    Lassoing a sea-lion
        Page 273
        Page 274
        Page 275
        Page 276
        Page 277
        Page 278
        Page 279
    An invitation
        Page 280 (MULTIPLE)
    The routine of the republic
        Page 281
        Page 282
        Page 283
        Page 284
        Page 285
        Page 286
    A modern middy
        Page 287
        Page 288
        Page 289
        Page 290
        Page 291
        Page 292
        Page 293
        Page 294
        Page 295
    A rose in a queer place
        Page 296
    The discontented snow-flake
        Page 297
    The ballad of a runaway donkey
        Page 298
        Page 299
        Page 300
        Page 301
        Page 302
        Page 303
        Page 304
        Page 305
    The bunny family in trouble
        Page 306
        Page 307
        Page 308
        Page 309
        Page 310
    Somebody's valentine
        Page 311
        Page 312
        Page 313
    Cup and saucer: The new babes in the wood
        Page 314
        Page 315
    The letter-box
        Page 316
        Page 317
        Page 318
    The riddle-box
        Page 319
        Page 320
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text


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No. 4.



FROM Shasta town to Redding town
The ground is torn by miners, dead;
The manzanita, rank and red,
Drops dusty berries up and down
Their grass-grown trails. Their silent mines
Are wrapped in chapparal and vines;
Yet one gray miner still sits down
'Twixt Redding and sweet Shasta town.

The quail pipes pleasantly. The hare
Leaps careless o'er the golden oat
That grows below the water moat;
The lizard basks in sunlight there.
The brown hawk swims the perfumed air
Unfrightened through the livelong day;
And now and then a curious bear
Comes shuffling down the ditch by night,
And leaves some wide, long tracks in clay
So human-like, so stealthy light,
Where one lone cabin still stoops down
'Twixt Redding and sweet Shasta town.

That great graveyard of hopes of men
Who sought for hidden veins of gold;
Of young men suddenly grown old -
Of old men dead, despairing when
The gold was just within their hold !
That storied land, whereon the light
Of other days gleams faintly still;

Somelike the halo of a hill
That lifts above the falling night;

That warm, red, rich, and human land,
That flesh-red soil, that warm red sand,
Where one gray miner still sits down !
'Twixt Redding and sweet Shasta town!

" I know the vein is here he said;
For twenty years, for thirty years !
While far away fell tears on tears
From wife and babe who mourned him dead.

No gold no gold! And he grew old
And crept to toil with bended head,
Amid a graveyard of his dead,
Still seeking for that vein of gold.

Then lo, came laughing down the years
A sweet grandchild Between his tears
He laughed. He set her by the door
The while he toiled his day's toil o'er,
He held her chubby cheeks between
His hard palms, laughed; and laughing
You should have seen, have heard and seen
His boyish joy, his stout old pride,

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



When toil was done and he sat down
At night, below sweet Shasta town !

At last his strength was gone. No more !
I mine no more. I plant me now
A vine and fig-tree; worn and old,
I seek no more my vein of gold.
But, oh, I sigh to give it o'er;
These thirty years of toil! somehow
It seems so hard; but now, no more."
And so the old man set him down
To plant, by pleasant Shasta town.

':"'^._. .*.^,^..

Nor left one leafy vine or tree
Of all that Eden nestling down
Below that moat by Shasta town !
*- *
The old man sat his cabin's sill,
His gray head bowed upon his knee.
The child went forth, sang pleasantly,
Where burst the ditch the day before,
And picked some pebbles from the hill.
The old man moaned, moaned o'er and o'er:
My babe is dowerless, and I
Must fold my helpless hands and die !
Ah, me! what curse comes ever down
On me and mine at Shasta town "

-0 .-.,-

" ,, : l rmndr_,. :':. !" -. -. ". "2
the glad child said, -. .- "
And so leaned softly to his -
Laid her gold head to his gray head,
And merry-voiced and cheery cried:
Good Grandpa, do not weep, but see!
I've found a peck of orange seeds!
I searched the hill for vine or tree;

2 i" "

And it was pleasant: piped the quail
The full year through. The chipmunk stole,
His whiskered nose and tossy tail
Full buried in the sugar-bowl.

And purple grapes and grapes of gold
Swung sweet as milk. White orange-trees
Grew brown with laden honey-bees.
Oh it was pleasant up and down
That vine-set hill of Shasta town !
* *
And then that cloud-burst came Ah, me !
That torn ditch there The mellow land
Rolled seaward like a rope of sand,

Not one! not even oats or weeds;
But, oh, such heaps of orange seeds !

"Come, good Grandpa! Now, once you said
That God is good. So this may teach
That we must plant each seed, and each
May grow to be an orange-tree.
Now, good Grandpa, please raise your head,
And please come plant the seeds with me."

And prattling thus, or like to this,
The child thrust her full hands in his.

He sprang, sprang upright as of old.
" 'T is gold 't is gold my hidden vein!



'T is gold for you, sweet babe, 't is gold !
Yea, God is good; we plant again "

So one old miner still sits down
By pleasant, sunlit Shasta town.

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WHEN birds to sun-lands southward wing,
And chilly winds begin to blow,
The babies that were born in spring
Think all delights are ended so.
But Jack Frost laughs aloud, Ho, ho!
There 's joy ahead they little know.
They have not seen the snow "

Then he begins to call his sprites
From the bleak, trackless north afar,
, Where each one in the frozen nights
Has made from ice a crystal star.
And Jack Frost laughs in glee, Ha, ha!
These shine like bits of glittering spar.
What flowers fairer are? "

And from the clouds he rains them down
Upon the cheerless earth below;
So thick they cover field and town,
So fair the brooks forget to flow.
And Jack Frost laughs, well pleased, "Ho, ho !
Could summer whiter blossoms show?
What think you of my snow? "

S, 111
', I

--.,: .





o0w.H cO r DURING the past twelvemonth,
L *'* or so, there hav been coming from
the heart of Africa -that mys-
terious and little-known land -
sundry rumors concerning a per-
sonage whom the natives call the
White Pasha. In African coun-
tries a Pasha is a military officer
S LETER CREST. whose rank corresponds to that of
general in European usage. A Bey is a colonel;
but neither Bey nor Pasha need always be in com-
mand of troops. A Pasha usually has an authority
of some sort, however. The White Pasha, in this
case, is known to have with him a large force of
armed men; for the natives, of a warlike race, have
made many attacks on the White Pasha and have
always been beaten off. So this mysterious person-
age, whoever he is, must be well provided with
means of defense and have with him many war-
riors. Who can he be ? There are not many white
men traveling about in the midst of the Dark
Continent, as Africa is sometimes called. Some
have thought the White Pasha may be General
Gordon, the wonderful and famous man who was
besieged in Khartoum, a year or two ago, by the
Mahdi, or Prophet, when that person rebelled and
fought against the Egyptian Government, took
Khartoum, and cruelly put its defenders to death.
It sounds like a fairy tale to be told that Gordon
escaped far to the south of Khartoum and organ-
ized a force of fighting natives and is making his
way out of the Dark Continent. But the story is
improbable. Many people have begun to think
the White Pasha is Henry M. Stanley, the famous
African explorer.
Everybody will hope that this unknown armed
white traveler is Stanley; otherwise, there is reason
to believe that that remarkable man has perished.
But, as Stanley is one man in the heart of Africa,
who is not only white, but well provided with arms,
ammunition, and men, this is likely to be he. We
Americans claim Stanley as an American; but he
was not born in this country, although he has lived
here- when he has not been wandering in savage
lands and it is fair to call him one of us.
Stanley was born in Wales, near the little town
of Denbigh, and his parents were so poor that
when he was about three years old he was sent to

the poorhouse of St. Asaph to be brought up and
educated. When he was thirteen years old, he
was turned loose to take care of himself. Young
though he was, he was ambitious and well-informed.
As a lad, he taught school in the village of Mold,
Flintshire, North Wales. Getting tired of this, he
made his way to Liverpool, England, when he was
about fourteen years of age, and there he shipped
as cabin-boy on board a sailing vessel bound to
New Orleans, in the promised land to which so
many British-born youths ever turn their eyes. In
New Orleans he fell in with a kindly merchant, a
Mr. Stanley, who adopted him and gave him his
name; for our young hero's real name was John
Rowlands, and he was not Stanley until he became
an American, as you see. Mr. Stanley died before
Henry came of age, leaving no will, and the lad
was again left to shift for himself.
Young Stanley lived in New Orleans until 1861,
when he was twenty-one years old, having been
born in 1840. Then the great Civil War broke
out, and Stanley went into the Confederate Army.
He was taken prisoner by the Federal forces, and,
being allowed his liberty, he volunteered in the
Federal Navy, being already fond of seafaring
and adventure. He did his work well, and in
course of time was promoted to be Acting Ensign
on the iron-clad Ticonderoga." He seems to
have made friends wherever he went, for he was
brave, modest, and of a generous disposition.
The war being over, he was discharged from the
naval service, and his love of adventure led him to
travel. He went to Asia Minor, saw many strange
countries, wrote letters to the American news-
papers, and, in 1866, visited his native village in
Wales. At St. Asaph he gave a handsome din-
ner to the children of the poorhouse where he had
been cared for as a child; and, in a little speech
to the youngsters, he told them that he was grate-
ful that he had been so well nurtured there, and
that the education given him at St. Asaph's
was the foundation of all the success he had had
in life, or might have hereafter. Even then
Stanley might say that he was a successful man;
for he was beloved and respected, had made his
own way in the world, had traveled far and wide,
and was making for himself a name and fame.
Returning to the United States, he was sent by


Mr. Bennett, of The New York Herald, to Abys-
sinia in 1868, a war having broken out between
the British and the king of that country. Here
Stanley got his first taste of African adventure.
It was not a long war; for the British soon shut
up King Theodore in his fortress of Magdala,
where he perished miserably, by his own hand,
amidst the flames of the burning citadel. It was
a strange campaign, and Stanley wrote an account
of the war, with its cruelties and its wild adventure,
that reads like a romance, true though it all was.
The very next year a great rebellion broke out
in Spain, and a war, long and cruel, followed.
Cities were sacked, sieges were undertaken, and
the land was filled with trouble. Thither went
Stanley, again in the service of The New York
Herald, for which he had done so much satisfac-
tory work. He saw the battles and the sieges,
studied the art of war, and wrote letters describing
very vividly all that passed before his eyes.
When the war in Spain was over, in the autumn
of 1869, the world was beginning to wonder
whether Dr. Livingstone, the devoted Christian
missionary and African explorer, were alive or
dead. Dr. Livingstone was a Scotchman who
studied medicine and divinity for the purpose of
going to pagan nations to preach Christianity and
minister to the needs of the heathen. He offered
his services to the London Missionary Society, and
was sent to South Africa, a country which we
then knew very little about, except for a short dis-
tance from the coast. And what little was known
of the interior of the Dark Continent was told by
slave-catchers who brought to the coast the poor
black people they had captured and driven out to
sell, like so many cattle, to the slave-traders. Dr.
Livingstone, a kind and gentle man, determined
to do what he could to hinder the work of these
cruel slavers, break up their trade, and spread the
light of the Christian religion throughout the un-
known land.
He arrived at Cape Town, Africa, in 1840, and
from that time to his death, more than thirty-three
years, he spent his life in the work to perform
which he had consecrated himself. As he went
away from the few settlemer4s of the white people,
he soon began to explore regions that were indeed
dark and "full of the habitations of cruelty." His
mind was kindled by a love for exploration as well
as by a desire to take the light of the Gospel to
pagan tribes. So, in 1858, he returned to Eng-
land and published a book giving an account of his
missionary labors and his discoveries. That book
created much interest throughout the civilized
world. It was a message from the Dark Conti-
nent, as Stanley afterwards called Africa. Money
was liberally subscribed to enable Livingstone to

carry on his explorations. He went back accom-
panied by his wife, and, starting from the mouth
of the Zambesi river, he explored that stream and
its tributaries, discovered a great lake in the inte-
rior, rumors of which had reached the coast; and
he traversed all the region around the head-waters
of the northeast branch of the Zambesi. His wife
died in the interior of Africa in 1862, and in 1863
he returned to England, and published another
book giving a history of his explorations.
Again he returned to his task, in 1865, and when
nothing had been heard of him for a year there
came a report that he had been killed by the sav-
ages. An expedition under Mr. E. D. Young was
sent in search of Livingstone, and, although he was
not found, tidings of his being alive were gathered
from the natives, and early in 1869 letters from
the missionary explorer, written a year before,
were received, showing that he was alive and well.
He had traversed many thousands of miles, the
first white man that had ever penetrated those un-
traveled regions, accompanied only by his faithful
and affectionate blacks, recording in his little jour-
nals what he saw and heard, and gathering a store
of novel and most fascinating information. But
now, in the autumn of 1869, more than twenty
months had passed since his last letter was written.
No word of his came out of the darkness, only sad-
dening rumors, and the world began to believe that
the faithful missionary and explorer had died in
the heart of the Dark Continent.
It was at this time that Stanley, resting after a
long and weary campaign in Spain, received from
Paris a telegram from Mr. James Gordon Bennett,
summoning him to that city. With his usual
soldierly promptness, Stanley packed his baggage
instantly, and, without an hour's delay, was off for
Paris as fast as steam could carry him. Arriving
at the French capital early in the morning, he
went straightway to Mr. Bennett's hotel before that
gentleman was out of bed. In answer to his knock
on the door, a voice called to him to enter. The
two men had not met in years; Stanley was
bronzed and aged by sun and storm, and Bennett
asked, abruptly, "Who are you? "
"I am Stanley, and I have come in answer to
your message," was the reply.
Bennett invited Stanley to a seat, and, drawing
a wrapper over his shoulders, asked, "Will you
go to Africa and find Livingstone?"
We may well imagine that Stanley was startled.
He reflected for a moment. Then he answered, I
will." The agreement was actually concluded.
But, before he left the room, some of the smaller
details were agreed upon and Stanley went out,
clothed with a commission to find Livingstone, and
promised ample funds for all expenses and for the



relief of the great explorer, in case he should be
found in need, as undoubtedly would be the case,
if he were found at all.
This was in November, 1869; and Stanley was
told to go to Africa by a devious route, in order to
visit sundry places of interest on his way. He
went first to the Suez Canal opening, that great
work being just ready for commerce. Then he
visited Constantinople, the battle-fields of the Cri-
mea, Bombay, and thence to Zanzibar, on the east
coast of Africa, where he arrived early in 1871.
Some time was spent in organizing the expedition,
several caravans, or trains, being dispatched, one
after the other, loaded with ammunition, arms, pro-
visions and other necessaries, and with a large sup-
ply of goods with which to purchase his right of
way through hostile or unfriendly kingdoms and
chieftaincies ; for it is the custom of the rulers of in-
terior Africa to levy tribute on all who pass through
their territories. Glass beads, fine brass and cop-
per wire, cloths of divers colors, and trinkets of
European make are as good in that country as
money is in civilized regions.
Last of all, and bringing up the rear, was Stan-
ley himself. His force, leaving the coast March 21,
1871, consisted of one hundred and ninety-two
persons, negroes and Arabs. The daring adven-
turer launched out into the untraveled spaces of
Central Africa, with these words ringing in his
ears, Find Livingstone "
Enduring many hardships, now fighting and
anon coaxing the natives, Stanley pressed on, his
general course being in a north-westerly direction,
certain signs and certain rumors, perhaps instincts,
leading him to believe that Livingstone would be
found, if alive, in the region of Lake Tanganyika.
He heard stories, reasonable and incredible, of the
white man who had gone into the heart of the con-
tinent years before and had been lost to view.
After a little these rumors grew more distinct and
hopeful, and he made up his mind that Living-
stone was alive and that he should find him, pro-
vided the missionary explorer did not elude him;
for some had said that Livingstone did not wish to
be found. So Stanley pressed on and, to his great
joy, found traces of the lost man. His first intima-
tion of being near Livingstone was when a black,
coming from the village where an unknown white
man was said to be, spoke to him in excellent
English. This man was one of Dr. Livingstone's
servants; and soon the two white men met for the
first time, in the midst of the Dark Continent, at
Ujiji, on the shores of Lake Tanganyika, November
10, 1871.
Stanley had found Livingstone.
Any but men of the cool and self-contained
Saxon race would have rushed into each other's

arms. Not so with these. Stanley, lifting his
cap, said, "Dr. Livingstone, I presume?" The
doctor nodded a reply, and Stanley said, "I am
Stanley." L
Stanley found that Lvingstone was destitute of
goods or other means of barter, and was now at
a standstill. Look on the map of Africa (p. 254).
Due west from Cape Delgado (which is below Zan-
zibar and on the northern line of Mozambique), you
will find Lake Nyassa, the great lake discovered by
Livingstone in 1859. North-westerly from that
body of water, and about one-third of the way
across the continent, is Lake Tanganyika, and near
its upper end, on the eastern shore, is Ujiji, where
Stanley found Livingstone. Stanley, fresh from
the outer world, and fired with the spirit of adven-
ture, proposed that he and Livingstone should to-
gether explore the great lake of Tanganyika at its
northern end to find, if possible, whether this was
one of the sources of the Nile for which so many
men have vainly searched for centuries past. The
expedition was carried out successfully, and the
explorers satisfied themselves that the Nile had no
affluent drawing from the lake; no outlet could be
Stanley remained with Livingstone until March
14, 1872, busied with explorations of the region.
He supplied Livingstone with all the goods and
commodities that he could spare, and on his return
to Zanzibar he sent him men, supplies, and such
articles as he needed, fulfilling the orders of Mr.
Bennett. Stanley never saw Livingstone again in
life. A strong friendship grew up between the two
white men who met in the interior of Africa under
such strange circumstances, and when Stanley, in
1874, learned that Livingstone had died on the
shores of Lake Bemba, at the very threshold of
the dark region he desired to explore, he was
smitten with grief.
Livingstone died of malarial fever contracted in
the pestilential marshes of Africa, as many Euro-
peans have died before and since. His faithful
blacks embalmed his body and carried it to the
coast, hundreds of miles, bringing with them every
article belonging to the doctor, even to the small-
est scraps of paper, on which were written the notes
of the explorer's last work. Livingstone was
buried in Westminster Abbey, that grand resting-
place for the great ones of England. Stanley was
one of those who bore him to his grave. It was
then, he tells us, that he vowed that he would clear
up the mystery of the Dark Continent, find the
real course of the Great River, or, if God should so
will, be the next martyr to the cause of geographi-
cal science.
When Stanley returned to Europe, after his
discovery of Livingstone, in July, 1872, many peo-



pie refused to believe his story. Some said it was
the idle tale of "a mere newspaper correspond-
ent"; but the evidence he brought with him, let-
ters from Livingstone, and other things, was too
strong. The Queen believed him, for she sent him
a beautiful box of gold set with jewels; and the
Royal Geographical Society of Great Britain, a
very high and mighty body, believed him, for it
showed him high honor. But it does seem a great
shame that after a Christian and a noble-hearted
man, as Stanley is, had done so much and suffered
so many privations in a good cause he should have
been stigmatized as a pretender. No wonder he
was angry.
Stanley tells us that he saw in London, one day
soon after the burial of his great friend Living-
stone, in the window of an old book-shop, a queer
little book with the title, "How to Observe." He
bought it, took it home, and speedily mastered its
contents. It was a modest manual for the obser-
ver, telling him what to observe and how to ob-
serve, laying down very general rules for this pur-
pose. It was just such a book as a keen-witted
traveler like Stanley would find quickening. As
his thoughts were already turned toward the Dark
Continent and its mysterious depths, he bought
books of African travels, books of botany, natural
history, geography, geology, and ethnology, and
hungrily mastered all that they had to give him.
He was preparing his mind for observing and un-
derstanding all he might see and hear, in case
he should ever go into the heart of Africa. For
him the opportunity came, as it usually does to
those who are ready and willing.
The outlet of the great Lake Tanganyika was as
yet undiscovered; nobody knew much about the
great river that reaches from the Congo coast
into the interior, losing itself in the foam of the
cataracts; and the secret sources of the Nile were
yet undiscovered. Even the then famous lake
known as Victoria Nyanza was only imperfectly
sketched on the maps; and people familiar with
African exploration were uncertain whether that
vast body of water was one lake or a chain of lakes.
These things Livingstone hoped to clear up; but
he died without the sight. ,
Discussing such matters with the editor of the
London Daily Telegrapk one day, Stanley was
asked whether he could settle these questions if he
were commissioned to go to Africa.
He said: While I live, there willbe something
done. If I survive the time required to perform
all the work, all shall be done." This was well
said, and equally to the point was the answer that
James Gordon Bennett telegraphed under the sea
from New York to London, when the proprietor
of the Telegrafk asked him, by the cable, if he

would join the new expedition. "Yes. Bennett,"
was the answer speedily flashed back. The
mighty work was determined upon.
Of course, there were a great many details to be
arranged, and many things, large and small, to be
looked after. Six weeks were allowed for prepara-
tions. When it was noised abroad that Stanley
was to make another expedition into the heart of
Africa, he and the people associated with him
were overrun with applications from men to go
with him and with all sorts of strange contrivances
and absurd inventions to help him out. But when
he finally left England, August 15, 1874, he had
engaged only three white men, Frank and Edward
Pocock and Frederick Barker. These, with the
goods and other needed articles, were sent on be-
fore, and, twenty months after his last departure
from Zanzibar, Stanley was once more at that
place, ready to begin his final preparations.
This work required much time and skill, to say
nothing of experience and patience. Everything
must be carried by porters, for the journey must
be made on foot. The trails in many places are
not more than eighteen inches wide, leading
through jungles and tangled thickets, and in many
places even these must be cut by the travelers.
Each porter carries, usually on his head, a burden
of sixty pounds; and as the total weight of the en-
tire "outfit," as we would say in America, was a.
little more than eight tons in weight, a carrying
force of some three hundred men was required.
The burdens consisted of cloths, beads, brass and
copper wire, and other articles for trading pur-
poses, stores, medicines, bedding, ammunition,,
tents, a boat built in sections (the "Lady Alice "),,
oars, instruments, photographic apparatus, and
other articles too numerous to mention, but abso-
lutely necessary to the expedition.
Stanley found some of the men who had been
with him on his previous journey when he searched
for Livingstone; and it spoke well for his treat-
ment of them that they all wished to go with him
again. When he was ready to depart, he had
two hundred and twenty-four persons, some of the
men taking their wives with them. He had also
with him three native young men from the Eng-
lish mission near Zanzibar. With him, too, was
the faithful Kalulu, an African boy, originally a
slave, given to Stanley when he was in the Tangan-
yika country, on the Livingstone search. This
lad had been in America, and all of Stanley's friends
will remember the bright, handsome, bronze-col-
ored lad, who accompanied his beloved master
everywhere in this country, dressed in a picturesque
suit of garments like a page's costume.
Leaving Zanzibar, with many conflicting emo-
tions, the company landed at Bergamoyo, on the



mainland, November 13. Five days later, having
secured six asses for the use of the sick, and made
their final preparations, the column boldly ad-
vanced into the heart of the Dark Continent.
By looking at the map of Central Africa shown
*on page 254, you will see that the general direc-
tion of the expedition was at first nearly westerly,
then, curving to the north, it was aimed for Vic-
toria Nyanza, at the most northerly point of that
stage of the journey. The march was hindered by
heavy rains, damp and poisonous exhalations arose
from the ground, and the first month of the expe-
dition was a gloomy one. Stanley's own weight,
in thirty-eight days, fell from one hundred and
eighty pounds to one hundred and thirty; and
the three young Englishmen were reduced in like
manner. Very soon, one of these, Edward Pocock,
was taken ill, and, although he was carried back to
the high table-land nearer the coast, he died and
was buried in that lonely region, Stanley reading
the Church service over his African grave.
By the 21st of January, fatigued by toilsome
marches, or smitten with disease, twenty of the men
had died, many were sick and disabled, and, to
crown their misfortunes, eighty-nine men had
deserted. They were now in a hostile region and
were attacked by the natives two days in succes-
sion; but after hard fighting they got away and
left the inhospitable tribes behind them, and new
men were engaged at the friendly villages they
entered. In this way, the expedition fought and
labored onward to the Victoria Nyanza.
There was great excitement and hilarity in the
Stanley company when, on the 27th of February,
the shores of Victoria Nyanza were reached at its
extreme southern verge. The natives celebrated
the event with an extemporaneous song of victory
and triumph. The word "Nyanza," Stanley ex-
plains, means water," whether in a cup or in a
great lake. We should translate the title of this
great lake as Victoria Water, but usage will proba-
bly adopt Victoria Lake as the fittest name for this
great sheet of water. Stanley circumnavigated the
lake, passing entirely around it, and settling all
dispute as to the draining of the waters of this lake
into Albert Nyanza, a smaller body of water con-
nected by the Victoria Nile with Victoria Nyanza.
As the White Nile draws from Albert Nyanza, it
may be said that Victoria Nyanza is one of the
sources of the Nile, if not the source of that his-
toric river.
In their voyage around the Lake Victoria, which
consumed sixweeks, the explorers had a taste of
the sort of warfare that they might expect on all
such water expeditions. They were repeatedly at-
tacked from the shore and from canoes. But the
fire-arms of the white men usually dispersed the

enemy. During the absence of the exploring
party from the camp on the lake, Frederick Barker
died of fever, leaving Frank Pocock and Stanley
the only white men in the party.
It was here that Stanley met good King Mtesa,
the ruler of the country of Uganda, and who, un-
der the teaching of Stanley, was converted to
Christianity. Mtesa had been a mild-mannered
and benevolent pagan; then he embraced Mo-
hammedanism, and now he accepted Christianity
as the true faith. When Stanley went away, after
a long and pleasant tarry with the king, Mtesa said
to him: Stamlee, say to the white people, when
you write to them, that I am like a man sitting in
darkness, or born blind, and that all I ask is that
I may be taught how to see, and I shall be con-
tinue a Christian while I live." This message was
safely delivered and, although King Mtesa did not
live to see his kingdom Christianized, missionaries
were sent to Uganda and the religion of Christ was
there preached, as he had desired. Mtesa will
long be known as a generous and kindly African
On his way to a lake lying westward of Victoria
Lake, and known as Muta Nzege, Stanley passed
through the regions of another African king,
Rumanika, who was an odd character, but, on the
whole, very friendly to the white man. At the
court of Rumanika Stanley heard many strange
stories of the unknown regions in the heart of the
continent. One told of a race of dwarfs; another
of a tribe of little men with tails like those of a
buffalo. In those far-off lands, he was gravely told,
were people with ears so long that they descended
to their feet; one car was used as a blanket to
sleep on, while the other was a cover to the sleeper.
Later on, Stanley met men who told him that on
Lake Tanganyika were to be found ships sailing,
manned by white Africans. Is it any wonder that
we have been for centuries beguiled with ridicu-
lous tales about these foreign lands?
King Rumanika had an inquiring mind. Ob-
serving that Stanley's nose was not flat like an
African's, and that the nose of Stanley's bull-dog
was a pug, he asked why the white man's nose was
so long and the nose of his dog so short. The
king was satisfied when he was told that the white
man's nose was made long by smelling of the
quantity of good food that he had in his country,
and that the dog's nose was made short by push-
ing open the house doors.
From Muta :' Stanley went south to ex-
plore that part of Lake Tanganyika that he and
Livingstone had not had time to sail around, in
1871-72. He went entirely around the southern
part of the lake, which he found to be three hun-
dred and twenty-nine miles long, averaging a



width of twenty-eight miles. It has no known out-
let, and a lead-line of two hundred and eighty feet
found no bottom. Stanley tells an interesting native
story, that in ancient times an old woman and her
husband dwelt here in a hut, in the middle of which

disaster. In a moment of thoughtlessness, the
woman let a stranger see the well and attempt to
catch one of the fish. Then the earth groaned
and heaved, the well sank, and its place was
covered by the sheet of water, bottomless and


was a marvelous well full of crystal-clear water, and
with many fish upon which the aged couple lived.
The gods had told them that so long as they
never divulged the secret the well should be theirs
alone. To show it to a stranger would be a great

vast, that is now known as Tanganyika, a name
signifying a plain of water.
Stanley's march from Tanganyika to the river
Lualaba was very toilsome and perilous. The
route lay through jungles well-nigh impassable,



while the ground was so covered with tropical
growths and the forests were so dense as to be al-
most impenetrable. But worse obstacles than these
afterwards encountered him. At Nyangwe, the
most distant point in Central Africa ever reached
by those who had gone before him, Stanley had
the good fortune to meet with Tippoo Tib, a famous
Arab trader; otherwise he might have had to
turn back to Ujiji, as Cameron and Livingstone
had done before him. For a consideration of five
thousand dollars, Tippoo Tib agreed to accom-
pany Stanley on the exploration of the Lualaba,
or Great River. If this agreement had not been
made it is likely that the expedition would have
failed, and we should never know, as we know
now, that the Congo and the Lualaba are one
river, the second largest in the world, extending
from its mouth on the western coast of Africa more
than halfway across the continent, and having its
rise near the great lakes of the interior. Here-
after, this one vast stream may be known as the
Livingstone, a name given to it by its explorer and
Tippoo Tib agreed to go with Stanley sixty
marches, taking with him one hundred and fifty of
his own followers. As we shall hear of Tippoo Tib
many times, in our news from Africa, we may as
well explain that he is a man well known through
the interior of the Dark Continent as a person of
great wealth and influence, able to assemble a
thousand men at very short notice, and on the best
of terms with the petty kings who vex the souls of
all white explorers, robbing them at times, and ex-
acting oppressive tribute at others. Stanley got on
better with the natives than did any of those who
had gone before him. He was wise, patient, gen-
tle, and yet so firm and decided that he was held in
great awe and respect wherever he was known. It
would appear that no man ever had so complete
sway over the minds of savages and semi-savages
as had Stanley on this and other journeys.
The object of the journey was to shed light on
the western half of the continent, then represented
on the map by a blank, through which meandered
a few uncertain lines representing rivers-guessed
at, but not known.
Leaving the river and deflecting to the westward,
Stanley struggled on through a forest matted and
interlaced with vines, swarming with creeping
things, damp and reeking with vapors, and drip-
ping with moisture. It was a most intolerable
stage of the journey. When again he struck the
river, he resolved to go by land no farther. Here
he was finally abandoned by Tippoo Tib, who
resolutely turned back. Stanley, as resolutely, set
himself to work building and buying canoes, and
led by his own section-built English boat, the

'" Lady Alice," the expedition started down the
great river, which here flows due north. The fleet
was twenty-three in number, loaded with stores,
goods, and supplies.
Of the adventures of that famous voyage we
have not here space to tell. The explorers were
sore beset, at times, by hostile tribes who attacked
the strangers from the shore, or from canoes, in
pure wantonness, as they paddled or drifted down
the stream. Sickness and hunger were often their
lot; they were pursued by cannibals who boasted
that they would eat the flesh of the strangers.
And not seldom they were overtaken by tropical
storms. In places, too, they encountered rapids
and cataracts around which their fleet had to be
dragged through paths cut in the virgin forest,
while savages hovered about. The forests were
alive with African beasts; chimpanzees and gorillas
chattered and roared from the thickets, and mon-
keys swung in the climbing vines that festooned
the trees. A hippopotamus once attacked them,
and elephants and rhinoceroses were never far
away. It was a journey the like of which man has
never before undertaken.
At a point below where the great river turns from
its northerly course and deflects to the westward,
just above the equator, were found a series of cata-
racts, seven in number, the first of which was named
Livingstone Falls and the seventh Stanley Falls.
In years to come we shall hear much of Stanley
Falls, as a supply station has since been established
there. The natives from this point downward to
the mouth of the Congo, or Livingstone, have lost
something of their natural ferocity. They have
been tamed by trade. Great was the rejoicing
of Stanley's Zanzibar men when they saw, not far
from this point, fire-arms in the hands of the
native warriors. This showed them that they had
reached a people supplied by traders from the
west coast of Africa.
The passing of the last group of cataracts was
attended by many dangers. In spite of all their
efforts, canoes were sometimes carried over the falls
and wrecked. In one afternoon, nine men were lost
in this way, and among them was Kalulu, Stanley's
favorite native boy, who had faithfully accompanied
and waited on him for years, and who came to New
York with his master several years ago. His
name will be found on the maps now, for Stanley
named the cataract where he met his death, Kalu-
lu Falls. A still greater grief was in store for the
harassed explorer; for, on the 3d of June, Frank
Pocock, the last of Stanley's white companions,
was drowned in the Congo by the upsetting of a
boat. This was a heavy and most lamentable dis-
aster. Frank was a brave, faithful, and devoted
follower of Stanley, who has paid a touching trib-


ute to the manliness, affection, and courage of this
lovable young Englishman who lies buried in the
savage wilderness of the Congo.
Very soon, as they drew near the coast, in the
latter part of the summer of 1877, sickness and
famine pressed hard upon the weary travelers.
They were destitute of nearly everything that
could sustain nature. They could not buy of the
churlish natives, and starvation stared them in the
face. Knowing that a trading-post was established
at Embomma, two days' journey down the river,
Stanley wrote a letter on an old piece of drilling,
and sent it by his swiftest runners. This was the
letter: *
VILLAGE OF NSANDA, August 4, 1877.
Dear Sir: I have arrived at this place from Zanzibar with one
hundred and fifteen souls, men, women, and children. We are now
in a state of imminent starvation. We can buy nothing from the
natives, for they laugh at our kinds of cloth, beads, and wire. There
are no provisions in the country that may be purchased, except on
market days, and starving people can not afford to wait for these
markets. I, therefore, have made bold to dispatch three of my
young men, natives of Zanzibar, with a boy named Robert Feruzi,
of the English Mission at Zanzibar, with this letter, craving relief from
you. I do not know you; but 1 am told there is an Englishman
at Embomma, and, as you are a Christian and a gentleman, I beg
you not to disregard my request. The boy Robert will be better able
to describe our lone condition than I can tell you in this letter. We
are in the state of the greatest distress; but, if your supplies arrive
in time, I may be able to reach Embomma within four days. I
want three hundred cloths, each four yards long, of such quality as
you trade with, which is very different from that we have; but better
than all would be ten or fifteen man-loads of rice or grain to fill their
pinched bellies immediately, as even with the cloths it would require
time to purchase food, and starving people can not wait. The sup-
plies must arrive within two days, or I may have a fearful time of it
among the dying. Of course, I hold myself responsible for any ex-
pense you may incur in this business. What is wanted is immediate
relief, and I pray you to use your utmost energies to forward it at
once. For myself, if you have such little luxuries as tea, coffee,
sugar, and biscuits by you, such as one man can easily carry, I beg
you on my own behalf that you will send a small supply, and add
to the great debt of gratitude due to you upon the timely arrival of
the supplies for my people. Until that time I beg you to believe me,
Yours sincerely,
Commanding Anglo-American Expedition
for Exploration of Africa.
P. S.-You may not know me by name; I therefore add, I am
the person that discovered Livingstone in 187I.--H. M. S.

Another letter was written in French, and
another in Spanish. Most European merchants
understand French and Spanish. In the anxiety
of his despair, Stanley left no means untried to
reach the unknown white traders whom he heard
were at Embomma.
We can not imagine the amazement of the white
men at Embomma when this cry of starving men
came out of the trackless wilds of the Congo coun-
try where it could not have been supposed that any
civilized man was wandering. The gentlemen into
whose hands this threefold message fell were Mr.
John W. Harrison and Mr. A. da Motta Veiga,
the former from Liverpool and the latter a Portu-

guese. Their response was prompt, generous, and
most thoughtful.
Stanley's messengers joyfully returned to the
camp and were closely followed by a small caravan
laden with ample supplies of food and other neces-
saries, even luxuries, for the relief of the famish-
ing people, who, when this timely succor arrived,
were on the brink of starvation, having had noth-
ing to eat for thirty hours. Words can not describe
the joy and exultation of the distressed followers
of Stanley at the sight of this welcome relief.
Murabo, a boat-boy, who seems to have been
something of a minstrel and a bard, struck up an
impromptu hymn of praise celebrating the kind-
ness and liberality of the white men of the second
sea," and loud and clear, says Stanley, rose the
chorus at the end of each stanza:

Then sing, O friends; sing, the journey is ended;
Sing aloud, O friends, sing to this great sea."

As for Stanley, the devoted leader, the "great
master," as they called him, he tells us that he
rushed to the privacy of his tent to hide the tears
of gratitude and joy that welled from his eyes. The
journey was ended. Privations were over. Stan-
ley sent back to the coast a touching letter of
thanks, in which thankfulness to the God who had
delivered them out of all their perils, and to the
kindly gentlemen who had succored them, were
written out of a full heart.
There is little left to tell of this wonderful expe-
dition. On the 9th of August, 1877, the 999th day
from the date of their departure from Zanzibar,
the company, now numbering one hundred and
fourteen blacks and one white man, met the ad-
vance guard of civilization, the generous traders
and merchants of Embomma. How pale these
looked to Stanley, who had so long seen only the
bronze faces and dark skins of the natives How
well-dressed and gay they seemed in comparison
with the tattered and dirty voyagers from the
heart of the Dark Continent.
From the mouth of the Congo, or Livingstone,
the expedition was carried by steamer to Kabinda,
a seaport only a short distance up the coast, where
the blacks supposed that Stanley would leave them
and go home; but, true to his word, he told them
that he would never leave them until they were
once more in their own home. Carried thence
to the port San Paolo de Loanda, they were
embarked on board a British man-of-war and
then taken to Cape Town. Thence, touching
at Port Natal, they steamed to Zanzibar, where
they arrived on the 20th of November. Long since
given up for dead, the blacks were greeted by
their kindred with songs and tears, with thanks-
givings, wonder, and cries of joy. They had

Reprinted from Stanley's "Through the Dark Continent," by permission of the publishers, Messrs. Harper & Brothers.



pierced the heart of the continent, doubled the
great Cape, and were at home.
Stanley returned to England from Zanzibar,
December i3th, 1877. Immediately on his arrival,
he found an embassy from the King of the Belgians,

the new organization was called, and he returned
to Africa in 1879, where he remained nearly six
years, hard at work on the Congo, or Livingstone,
making roads, establishing stations, and opening
the way for commerce. His exploits in building


who had been planning an expedition to open up
the Congo country to trade and who wanted Stan-
ley to take command. With great reluctance, for
the explorer now desired to enjoy the sweets of
civilized life for a season, Stanley undertook the
management of the International Association, as

roads, some of which were over mountains and
across rocky chains, won for him from the natives
the title of "Rock Breaker." At the head of the
cataracts nearest the west coast the river widens
into a broad lake, studded with islands, and known
as Stanley Pool. At the foot of the cataracts is a


trading-post, called Vivi; and large steamers can
ascend the river to Vivi, while above that point,
as far as Stanley Falls, steamboats of lighter draft
are now running in considerable numbers. When
we remember that the distance from Stanley Pool
to Stanley Falls is nearly one thousand miles of
savage river, we can understand why the great ex-
plorer should say, We found the Congo having
only canoes; to-day there are eight steamers." But
since then the number of steamers has been multi-
plied many times.
A railroad has been planned to carry freight
around the cataracts. Soon, trading-stations will
be scattered along the five thousand miles of navi-
gable waters of the great river. Stanley found a vast
country that had no owner. The river drains a re-
gion containing more than a million square miles,
much of which is well peopled. The Congo Free
State, founded by Stanley's friend, Leopold II.,
King of the Belgians, lies chiefly south of the great
bend of the river, and contains an area of one mil-
lion five hundred and eight thousand square miles;
its population is more than forty-two millions. The
articles collected from the African trade are ivory,
palm-oil, gum-copal, rubber, beeswax, cabinet-
woods, hippopotamus teeth and hides, monkey-
skins, and divers other things. These are bought
with goods, such as colored beads, brass and cop-
per wire, cotton cloth, cutlery, guns, ammunition,
and a great variety of articles known as notions"
or trade-goods." The basis of all buying and
selling in the Congo Free State is free trade; all
nations that participated in the Berlin Congo Con-
ference have right to trade and barter and
establish posts within the boundaries of that ter-
ritory, vast and rich, made accessible through the
labors of Stanley.
During his six years' service in Africa, under the
patronage of the King of the Belgians, Stanley
made brief visits to Europe and the United States.
It was while he was in this country, in the winter
of 1886-87, that he was summoned back to Europe
to take command once more of an African expedi-
tion; this time to rescue another white man lost in
the heart of the Dark Continent. This was Emin
Pasha, governor of the Province of Equatorial
Africa. Emin is the Egyptian name of Dr.
Schnitzler; Pasha, as we have said, is the title
of a civil or military officer. The province, over
which Emin Pasha or Schnitzler is governor, is
one of the outlying possessions of the Egyptian
Government. When the revolt in the Soudan
took place and Gen. Gordon was besieged in
Khartoum, the Province of Emin Pasha was cut
off from the rest of Egypt, and there he has been
ever since, shut up in the region due north of the
Albert Nyanza. Its capital is Lado, on the

affluent leading from the Albert Nyanza to the
White Nile. Here Emin Pasha has been closed
in by hostile tribes, without sufficient ammunition
or other supplies to enable him to cut his way out,
or to traverse the routes that may be open through
regions not hostile.
Finally, to rescue Emin Pasha, subscriptions
were started in Europe. The largest subscriber to
the Emin Pasha relief fund is Mr. William Mackin-
non, a wealthy Scotchman, who is president of a
great line of steamers, the Peninsular and Oriental.
The Burdett-Coutts family are also large contribu-
tors. The fact that Mr. Mackinnon, a private
citizen, gave so much money to the fund has
moved some people to think that the British Gov-
ernment, and not Mr. Mackinnon, is really backing
up this new expedition ; and that the real object is
to come in the rear of Khartoum, as we have
already said, and retake it from the rebels who
have held it ever since it fell into the hands of the
victorious false prophet (El Mahdi) in 1884.
Stanley sailed once more for Africa in January,
1887, making his headquarters for the organizing
of his expedition at Zanzibar, where he has so
many true friends among the Arabs and the blacks.
The supplies for the expedition were shipped

directly to the Congo and carried up-stream by
steamers. At Zanzibar, Stanley did his recruiting
only. At Zanzibar, too, Stanley's old friend, Tip-
poo Tib, was met, and Stanley signed an agree-
ment with him making him governor of Stanley
Falls, to defend that point against all comers,
Arabs or natives, a salary being guaranteed him
then and there.
Accompanied by Tippoo Tib, the great explorer
went to the mouth of the Congo, by the way of the
Cape of Good Hope, reaching Banana Point, at
the mouth of the Congo, March 18, 1887, and
soon after ascending the river on which he had
encountered so many hardships and endured so
much suffering. His force consisted of nearly one
thousand men, and his supplies, arms, and ammu-
nition, intended for the relief of Emin Pasha, were
enormous in quantity. One of the arms provided
for his own use was a revolving many-chambered
gun, of the Mitrailleuse pattern. This terrible
engine would be so great a novelty among the
savages who annoyed Stanley on his first voyage
down the great river that it was thought they might
be subdued into good behavior when they beheld
its working.
The exact line of travel to be pursued by Stan-
ley in his search for Emin Pasha is not known.
The explorer, for reasons of his own, chose to keep
that a secret. But it was generally supposed that
he would strike for Wadelai, on the White Nile,
just above Albert Nyanza. At any rate, he dis-


appeared somewhere into the vague unknown of
the region lying between the Upper Congo and
that lake. More than a year has now passed since
we heard any tidings of the White Pasha, except
such wild rumors as have come out of the darkness
of the continent. It seems strange that a captain,
at the head of more than a thousand men, can so
completely disappear in the interior of a continent
that he should be lost and never heard of for so
long a time. Where is he, if alive? And if Stan-
ley has perished, where are the many men that
were with him? Where the goods and munitions of
war ? No wonder people are asking these questions.
But bad news came from one of Stanley's aiding
expeditions not long ago. This expedition, com-
manded by Major Barttelot, one of Stanley's
trusty lieutenants, left the Upper Congo, last April,
with supplies for Emin Pasha, which Stanley had
left behind for that purpose. On the 19th of July,
it appears, Major Barttelot was attacked and killed
by his own carriers. The expedition being thus
broken up, one source of supplies for Stanley and
Emin Pasha was cut off.
Probably no man has ever excelled Stanley in
his wise treatment of the Africans. He seems to
have a natural instinct of the best way to manage
these people, who combine great childishness
with natural ferocity. Stanley is firm, but kind,
considerate, and generous. The natives know that
he is strong, and they have faith in his honesty
and truth. He has managed the savages with
wonderful skill. The slave-traders hate and fear
him, and many people have thought that if he
were ever surprised and cut off in Africa it would
be by the malice of these bad men, who fear for
their trade. Stanley, like Livingstone, saw enough

of the horrors of the slave-trade to be in deadly
earnest to do all that lay in his power to stop it.
Tippoo Tib, the Arab trader, has long been a
slave-dealer, though he has pretended to give up
that horrible traffic since he has been associated
with Stanley. Very likely, if he ever got a chance
to go into the slave-trade again, without being
found out, he would do it. And, if Stanley stood
in his way, some men think Tippoo Tib would
not hesitate even to kill Stanley, and so be rid of
him. Tippoo Tib is now a very great man in Cen-
tral Africa. He is enormously rich, and he can
raise a force of many thousands of men whenever
he has occasion to call for them.
It is singular that it should now be thought
necessary to send a search expedition for Stanley,
after all that he has done in that direction himself.
But Leopold, King of the Belgians, and others,
devoted friends of Stanley, propose to do this very
thing, unless news of the White Pasha's safety
comes to us.
When Stanley was in this country, soon after
his discovery of Livingstone, he was full-cheeked,
rosy in color, and his hair was dark and handsome.
When next he came, after his memorable trip
through the heart of the Dark Continent, the
ruddy hue of his face was gone, and his beautiful
hair was nearly white. But the brightness of his
eyes was not dimmed, and the alert and sinewy
limbswere as agile as of old. Hehas borne priva-
tions and great hardships well, but they have left
their mark on his face; and countenance and head
are old long before their time.
It would be a great loss to the world of com-
merce and of Christian endeavor and human ac-
tivity if the White Pasha should return no more.






THOUGH a French-Canadian never hurries, and
may accomplish no more in a week than the ner-
vous, driving American in half a day, he keeps pace
with nature by rising with the sun. The cackle
of French voices begins at early cock-crowing.
Alvine waked in the dawn. Her ankle was by
this time quite painful, but she crept off the feather
bed and put on her dried and crumpled clothes.
Mother Ursule could be heard disturbing the
dewy mountain-silence outside, filling her oven with
sticks. By the time Alvine limped outdoors, and
sat down near the pig-pen, which was under the
same roof as the oven, the housewife had left this
task and was cooking breakfast.
Two bristle-backed swine stared at Alvine, and
returned a grunt for her polite good-morning.
The pig of the French-Canadian seldom gets fat.
lie has, in many cases, the freedom of the roads,
but his development runs to hair and ears, and he
looks sharply able to take care of himself.
The outdoor oven was built on supports, high off
the ground, of stone covered with plaster. Its
dome top was sheltered by a roof of boards, and it
had a large iron door fastened by a latch. When
the wood within it burned out it would be heated
to such a degree that tall loaves of bread could
crust themselves in its slowly lowering even tem-
Pelletier descended the gallery steps to open his
blacksmith shop, and paused beside the oven to
ask how his guest had slept, and if the bite of a
sweet-tempered dog like Gervas was working her
damage. The shop was built with the hill for a
rear wall; so its roof was below them and the black-
smith could have walked out upon it as upon a
balcony. But, instead, he opened a door under the
caves and entered his smithy by a stairway of planks
inside. He then set wide a door through which a
pony might squeeze, and looked out on the Beau-
pre road, on glistening flats stretching riverward
behind his opposite neighbor's house, and on St.
Lawrence itself, delightful to the eyes in morning
Pelletier's forge was a fireplace scooped high in
the side of the wall. So stained with ancient
VOL. XVI.-17.

smoke was the interior of the shop that when the
noon sky arched its bluest, and plenteous light
penetrated everywhere else, a handful of fire half-
way between ground and rafters made there the
single spot of positive color in a dense negation of
blackness. In front of the shop hung its sign:
"E. Pelletier, Forgeron."
Had Alvine been in a boat on the St. Lawrence
she could now have seen the
mists rise off the mountains,
experiencing surprise, perhaps,
as points revealed themselves
through the bank of grayness,and
first one well-defined ridge and

-X 6i


then another over it appeared- stable lines in the
midst of changing vapor. But she could only look
at the eastern spread of the river flushing with
sun-rise, and uphill as high as Mother Blanchet's
overhanging residence, for there the sky-line
abruptly presented itself to her eye. Rows of
potato plants stretched up and down the incline.


It seemed probable that the potatoes, as they ri-
pened, would swell out of their earthen pockets and
obligingly roll down to the Pelletiers' door. There
was a high ledge behind the house, a waterfall
coming down it in continuous short leaps, clear as
dew where it trickled, its course intensely marked
with green.
Above the potato slope, and just under Mother
Blanchet's fence, some logs were built to form a
terrace where growing things could sit nursed on
a level lap in the sun. Here flourished Mother
Ursule's garden: onions, lettuces, cabbages, and
melons also, for their vines dripped down the
Gervas came awkwardly to Alvine as she sat by
the pig-pen, and snuffed politely at her skirts; to
which she replied that the ankle did hurt, but she
comprehended it was a mistake on his part. Ger-
vas's wagon stood in its own stable above the black-
smith shop; a half-excavated shed well thatched
with pine boughs, but with the front open.
Mother Ursule brought cross-barred and striped
woolen blankets from all the beds in the house, and
hung them over the gallery to air. Then her array
of loaves came out in her arms to the oven. She
nodded kindly to Alvine all the way down the
path, and was pleased when her guest lifted the
oven latch for her, and showed its glowing heart
ready to render utmost service.
While Mother Ursule was raking out coals and
putting in bread, a tiny old man dressed in gray
appeared on the gallery. He wore moccasin shoes,
laced high around the leg, and a girdle which
held his blouse in at the waist. But the striking
points of his apparel, and the points which gave it
character, were a red cotton handkerchief tied
around his head and breeches cut short off at the
knee. Thick gray stockings ascended and covered
him well, yet without taking away a juvenile air
which made this little old man seem rejoicing in
his first trousers. They were not fitted to the
slope of the limbs, but gave these a wide and gen-
erous outlet, apparently promising that the little
old man should not soon outgrow their width.
As soon as he saw Mother Ursule he showed his
gums in a smile. He had no teeth left. His face
was like the face of an angel, if angels' faces are
ever tanned to the color of a hickory-nut and in-
closed in snow-white strands of thin hair. It held
the eagerness of childhood tempered by that
knowledge of sorrow which leaves its stamp after
the sorrow is long outlived. His entire person ex-
pressed lightness, and his stature was so small that
altogether the queer little ground-colored man be-
came one's type of a fairy man.

Good-morning, good-morning," cried Mother
Ursule. It is a fine day, Petit-Pere."
He answered without lisp or mumble, for long
use had readjusted his vocal organs so that no
parts were missed.
Good-morning, my daughter Ursule. All the
world is sweet."
"'It is your father, madame? inquired Alvine,
surprised by an inmate whose presence she had
not suspected.
"It is myhusband's grandfather, mademoiselle.
He is eighty years old. He is," said Mother Ur-
sule, putting her knuckles on her sides and stand-
ing straight, to give her entire attention to the
subject, as swift on foot as any young man
along the Beaupr6 road. Willingly, like a little
son, he does my errands. Monsieur Pelletier,
indeed, is much more like the grandfather. We
call him Petit-Pere instead of Grandpere, because
he is so small and has long seemed to be growing
young, and more like our child than our venerable
father. It is fifteen years since our calamity, and
he had then made a beginning en enfance." No
one yet calls him childish ; for truly, even Mother
Blanchet will tell you, he has been as far back as
our memories go never other than a sweet child.
Mademoiselle, you will see this tiny creature sit
down on the floor and lean his head against my
knee when he is tired. About our calamity we do
not speak. But you should know we lost all our
family in one winter. Nine children, mademoi-
selle, and my husband's father and mother, and
seven brothers and sisters. We also had it, but
three of us survive."
P'tite v6riole ? f whispered Alvine.
Mother Ursule nodded several times.
But Petit-Pere, he never sorrowed over the loss
of them like we sorrow for the dead. Mademoi-
selle, every day he goes up the hill to call them.
Sometimes he comes back crying because they
stay away so long. On a fine morning, like this,
he is sure of bringing them all home, and thou
wilt hear him tell me to kill the pig and have black"
puddings ready."
All this makes him charming, madame," pro-
nounced Alvine.
So now we will go to breakfast," said Mother
Ursule, in a gratified tone. And then will I
look at the foot which I have so neglected this
It is nothing, madame. I can go slowly on
with it to-day."
"Not an inch from the house of Monsieur
Pelletier will you move, my child, until the
pits made by Gervas's teeth are healed. That

* Childishness. No English word so well expresses it. t The Canadian-French have strong aversion to being vaccinated. They will
not submit to it. Small-pox has consequently been a scourge among them, at times epidemic in Montreal and other places.


reminds me I have not beaten him with the oven-
Gervas sat down by Alvine and looked discour-
Oh, madame, do not touch him," begged the
girl. "He did but his duty. If it had not been
for Gervas, indeed, should I have had a taste of
thy good cream ? "
Benevolent vanity overspread Madame Pelle-
tier's face.
"It is good cream," she affirmed, with the air
of a righteous person who will not be so foolish as
to deny her own virtues. And Gervas did us
no bad service when he dragged thee to our house,
poor, trembling rabbit. But this to thee, mon-
sieur," she added, shaking her finger at the dog,
who snapped in embarrassed fashion at a fly, and
then fixed his gaze on a gnarled, wind-stunted
apple-tree which grew behind the oven. "Keep
thy meddlesome teeth out of pilgrims henceforth.
And call now thy master to his breakfast."
Gervas got up, relieved as a boy who has escaped
a whipping, trotted to the roof of the blacksmith
shop and uttered three yelps.
Up came Pelletier promptly, and they went in
to their first meal, of strong tea, dark bread, and
coarse beefsteak dressed in a sour gravy.
Pelletier put his arm affectionately across the
shoulder of his diminutive grandfather and led him
to his usual place at the table, while explaining the
custom of the house to their guest in English.
"'E go preach, Petit-Pere. Have the binnydic-
Accordingly, Petit-Pere pushed his red hand-
kerchief back from his temples and said the con-
secrating word over the meal with his dark palms
standing upright.



LAVENDER daisies, shading almost to the thought
of crimson, with gold-colored centers, were thick
upon the hills. In damp places, though distant
from the pools made by shut-in glens, grew plenty
of buttercups, their humid yellow shining always
freshly polished.
Alvine could see this enameled robe lying around
the feet of the mountain, knobbed with rocks,
ornamented with clusters of trees and seamed with
gullies, as she washed her clothes. For Mother
Ursule had declared she must be well laundered
before she went farther on her pilgrimage, so crum-
pled and mud-stained had the rain left her. She
put on a petticoat and sack of Mother Ursule's
which wrapped her around twice. The housewife

dressed her ankle in fresh cloths and fresh grease
after washing it with cold water.
Oh, madame exclaimed Alvine, as a door
was opened in the plank wall at the end of the
kitchen. For through this square hole one could
see the mountain-spring descending from rock to
rock, from fern nook to moss nest, between over-
hanging bushes on which elderberries, scarlet as a
smear of blood among green leaves, startled the
eye. They seemed no kin to the elder-bush which
fills western fence-angles with white-lace balloons
during early summer and brown-red, wild juiced
fruit in August weather. The sight that startled
Alvine was a wooden spout conducting the water
to Madame Pelletier's hand, and pouring away
into some unseen channel with ceaseless music.
Yes, yes, yes," said Mother Ursule, as she re-
ceived her basin of cold hill-water, it is very good
to have it so, and all winter long doth it pour thus
without asking, until the heart of the earth becomes
solid with cold. Even then the least kind shining
will bring a trickle down, and when spring loosens
all ice, how it coth crack and clatter! "
Petit-Phre stood about the broad-boarded floors
and watched Alvine from the moment she was put
before his twinkling eyes. He went obediently
down to the oven and took note of the bread's
progress when asked to do this by his daughter;
but presently he was back, lifted by the door-sill
between rooms as by a pair of skates. Wherever
there is any door-sill in a French-Canadian cottage,
it is three or four inches high.
Madame Pelletier and Alvine went uphill to the
washing-shed, and Petit-P&re, still clinging to the
unusual presence of a young person, said he would
take his knitting and go along.
The washing-shed was set near a sandy basin in
the descending rivulet, scarcely as large as the
iron kettle in which Mother Ursule heated water.
But it was a basin always filling itself as soon as
emptied. The kettle stood on a four-legged iron
support much like a toy bedstead. Mother Ursule
took a gourd to dip water into it, and lighted
the fire.
Gracia' she shouted as the slippery border
of the rivulet half betrayed her, and her great bulk
slid downhill several inches.
"Glissant," she admonished Alvine, pointing to
this sleek track after escaping from it, and wagging
a face red with the exertion of catching herself.
"Pre' garde, pre' garde."*
The washing-shed covered a large stationary
tub beside which there was a railed place for the
cake of soap and the clothes-beater-a broad, flat,
wooden tool having a short handle.
Alvine was able to stand by the tub and scour
her garments, but this the house-mother would not

* Contraction of prenez garde, take care."



allow. She took the labor into her own hands
from first wetting the coarse cotton to the final
hanging out her drying-pole.
Two interruptions drew her downhill: her

They examined goods at their leisure, children
spreading out gay cotton prints to covet, their el-
ders scolding down prices, and the peddler-a
Frenchman who thus distributed Quebec merchan-


baked loaves had to be carried in from the oven,
and a peddler stopped his wagon below the gate.
Her neighbors across the road came out, Pelletier
left his shop, Mother Blanchet waddled downhill,
a picturesque sight in white cap, her cotton sack
girdled into a homespun petticoat by a long brown
cord; and three families swarmed like bees at the
cart's end, nearly filling up the narrow road.

dise through the valley- declaring with face, hands,
and nimble legs the ruinous cheapness of his wares.
He carried tempting stuff besides wearing fabrics,
and when the blacksmith had pried into one ob-
long box he took a ten-cent piece from his pocket
and exchanged it for a very small paper of bits
carefully picked from that box.
Alvine washed in the tub during Mother Ursule's



engagement with the peddler. It was like being in
the gallery of a great amphitheater and looking
down and away at wonderful sights. Faintly blue
vapor trailed along the island of Orleans, and she
could see fishing-boats at patient anchor in the
river, and a steamer rushing down-stream filled
with people to its guards. Eastward could be
heard at intervals the softened far-pealing of bells,
which she knew were the chimes of Ste. Anne.
Petit-P&re sat on a rock shaded by a dwarf tree,
busy with his knitting-needles. A long stocking
hung down from them between his knees, and
though he worked slowly, zealous intention kept
his tongue sticking out. A gray woolen cap was
drawn over his head-kerchief for outdoor wear, its
bagging end and tassel drooping over one ear.
He cast his thread over and looked up smiling at
Alvine; and she as often put her hand to her tem-
ple, carried it downward in a curve, and made him
a bow full of young grace.
Pelletier was in the habit of speaking English
when he had any secret from his grandfather, or
wished to explain his grandfather's ways to any
outsider. The aged Frenchman could not under-
stand a word of even such English as the black-
smith talked. Uphill came Pelletier, his whiskers
expanding in a smile, and slyly showed his paper
packet to Alvine while the old man knitted tran-
quilly. It held a few pieces of candy, some shaped
like strawberries and others like slices of lemon.
Freet," said Pelletier, confituree, and sugar.
For make some bread to Petit-Pere; eat."
Does he like it? inquired the girl, pleased to
be in the secret.
"Yes, yes, yes; v'ey much. See you," said
Pelletier, pointing with delight at the busy little
man who pulled a long thread off his ball of yarn.
"'E don't know what might be happen now "
The middle-aged grandson slipped up behind
his pet sire and laid his paper of sweets suddenly
upon one of the broad-trousered knees.
Petit-Pere, letting his knitting fall to the ground,
took hold of them.
A bon marched, A bon march he cried,
his chuckles tumbling over each other. My son
Elzear, that pleases me It is enough," he calcu-
lated, to fill the mouths of all my children. Now
they will come back to father, and sit in the even-
ing around my knees and let me count them and
pat their heads, my sons and my daughters."
"Eat it thyself, my Petit-Pere," urged the
blacksmith; but his grandfather, denying himself,
sat plainly tempted by the coarse sweets spread on
his knee. He looked at Alvine and weighed in
his mind her right to a share and the wisdom of
giving it to her or keeping it back.

"But she has come home. She stays in my
sight, and the others are yet scattered. She should,
therefore, have a bit, my good girl. But no, she
may stay for a kind word-I will try that. And
my chicks straying through woods and mountains,
I need the confiture to coax them back. My son
Elzear, this is bait for one of my boys that I saw on
the hill yesterday. He would not come nigh then,
but now will he come nigh me !" The little father
chuckled and shook his paper of candy.
"Perhaps he saw my brother Bruno," exclaimed
It was surely thy brother," nodded Petit-pere;
"and all the other children would be thereabouts.
I have waked in winter nights and cried about
them because they must then be so cold. But
these fine days they frolic, the rascals, they kick
up their heels and are out of the old father's sight.
There is a time to gather the hay," his treble voice
proclaimed, "and there is a time to gather my
children into the house. I must be about it while
the sun shines. A girl to-day; a boy to-morrow;
I shall soon have them."
"Eat some confiture," still urged the blacksmith,
in a coaxing attitude with his hands on his knees.
"Do you wish to drive me away, also-to eat none
of my gift? "
"No, no, no," cried the father in alarm.
"What would I do if they all left me? But see
you, my son Elzear, this piece is for Luce, and
this for Flavie, and this for Louis, and this for
Narcisse -- "
"And this one for Petit-Pere," said the black-
smith, picking up a lemon slice and holding it
under his nose. The old face, which was no more
shrunken and wrinkled than a winter-kept russet,
began to outline its cheek with smiling creases, the
mouth opened and accepted its bite of candy; but
Petit-Pere got up and carried his knitting and the
rest of the sugared stuff downhill with him.
Pelletier and Alvine watched him stand at the
gate until his daughter Ursule could leave the
My daughter Ursule," he said to her as she
approached, will you put my confiture on the
highest shelf until I go out to look for the children ?
And here, my daughter Ursule, my stocking, is
it not ready for the heel? "
Madame Pelletier took the candy packet and
stood still to examine the stocking, her little grand-
father, whose head did not tower to her shoulder,
waiting by, with the ball in his docile hands.
"This is a fine long stocking," she observed.
Is it not? he cried, showing his gums.
Yes, it is time to set the heel. But thou hast
dropped two stitches, my Petit-Pire."

* Fruit. tA French-Canadian may use this exclamation when he means a pretty thing, and without any reference to its cheapness.



"Have I done so, indeed? That might make
holes to let the frost through to my Hermene-
gilde's legs."
I will pick them up for thee," promised his
A long time have I been at this one, and it
makes only three. How many legs have all my
children, my daughter Ursule?"
Fret not thy precious heart about that. Am I
not also knitting and ever knitting to help thee keep
the family covered?"
"Yes, yes," said Petit-Pare, his anxieties quieted.
The small Canadian father trotted by her side into
the house.



OUT of the dimness and uncertainty which lay
far off on Megantic, Marcelline Charland and her
rescuers saw some object coming toward them.
The sinking splendor of burning woods reflected
upon the lake, made another forest seem to glow
under water. If a tree toppled down in showers
of coals on the land, a similar tree shook out its
sparks under the ripples. And it was a strange
sight to see a boat push across this submerged
picture of fire, its oarsman riding toward a burning
world upon a sea of flame.
Monsieur Lavoie and both girls kept calling to
him, though there was no chance of his passing
them by unseen, so tall and dark were their fig-
ures, thrown out by the red glow behind them.
How many people are there in the boat, my
Aurdle ? inquired Monsieur Lavoie.
Papa, I can see but one man, and he is a very
ugly fellow."
But the splash of his oars is a beautiful sound."
He is an Indian," whispered Marcelline, as the
boat came across the gravel, and the next moment
it crunched in sand.
Monsieur Lavoie, hearing it thus grounded, said:
Have you come to help us out of this trouble,
my man? "
"Yes, monsieur," he replied in guttural French,
holding the prow of his boat while he waited for
them to get in. Hot here, very hot."
"It has been hotter. Are you from Agnes? "
"No, monsieur. I from camp."
If the other fugitives reached the town, I
thought they would perhaps miss us and send a
boat for us."
"Agnes all on fire, monsieur. Folks fighting
fire there, yet."
Where, then, shall we go?" exclaimed Mon-
sieur Lavoie. "These children are a mass of

blisters. My face is so burned that I have no use
of my eyes. We ought all to have medical help
at once."
Doctor over there," said the Indian, pointing
across the lake. Doctor in camp with families
over there."
"Who are you?" inquired Monsieur Lavoie,
before intrusting the children and his own blind
helplessness to their rescuer. "What is your
name ?"
"Name Frangois. I am Algonquin, monsieur.
My mother was Algonquin chief's daughter," ex-
plained the son of that poor, overburdened Prin-
cess Sally, whose latest labors he had already
rubbed badly on the elbows and soiled- to dirtiness
over sleeves and front.
And is your doctor an Algonquin, also ? con-
tinued Monsieur Lavoie.
"No, monsieur," replied this poor descendant
of a once great and gentle tribe. Doctor Eng-
lishman from Sharebrooke town. Families from
Sharebrooke town camping on lake shore."
Do you belong to the camp ? "
"Yes, monsieur. I fish and tend to boats. I
go to these woods and hunt before woods burn
Take us to the camp, then. They will surely
take pity on such castaways as we are."
Yes, monsieur," said Francois. He helped
the girls to a seat and guided Monsieur Lavoie into
the stern. It only three miles across to camp.
It five miles to Agnes."
As he took his oars and shot his party out over
the reflected fire, Aurdle and Marcelline on a bench
together gazed at what they left behind. Though
oases of grayness marked where the flames had
done their work and left their ashes, this milky
way was by no means a continuous track. The
great roaring force was stalking eastward and
southward, seeming to crumble the world as it
moved, and its hot breath quivered almost like the
aurora at the zenith, stars dancing tipsily through
such a medium.
The farther their boat receded, the vaster did
this sight of fire become.
Aurile, opposite Monsieur Lavoie onherbench,-
for she and Marcelline sat with their backs toward
the Indian,- gazed a long time; then she left it
and crept to tell her father.
Can't you see one little bit, poor papa? The
burning of Rome must have been a chip afire, com-
pared to this sight."
Would I look at it if I could for very spite -
Aurdle ? "
"Yes, you would, papa. Oh, how I want you
to see it! It would live forever in your mind.
That seems to me very cruel: that this monster



fire should sear you in the face so you can not see Ah, papa, you miss much."
its beauty." Yes, my Aurele. We, of necessity, miss much.
"The rapture of coming to mature years and Every one is obliged to do so. We are not bound-
being middle-aged," said the poet, "lies in this one less receptacles."
fact-you find out there are so many things in Frangois ceased rowing to look into the water.


this world you don't want. When I was your age,
Aurele, I wanted everything. My capacity was
shark-like; nothing sated me. Now I am your
venerable parent with much to enjoy and much to
be grateful for; and the few things which I can
not have, I do not want: chief among them the
sight of this fire. I have had enough of it !"

Fish come up to-night," he remarked. Big
fire draws fish. Plenty to catch."
"Were you fishing when you heard us call?"
inquired Monsieur Lavoie.
Yes, monsieur. When I saw big fire I knew
fish come up. Pile of fish in front of boat. I caught
plenty. Then I heard folks call."



Did you hear any one else calling along that
shore ? "
No, monsieur. I saw some loaded boats go
back to Agnes before it was night."
"Probably all the other people got off in those
As distance tarnished the splendor of the forest
fire, Aurele turned her face toward the beach they
were approaching. Marcelline sat quietly on her
bench, crying under her breath with the pain of
her burns. Some water had soaked through the
boat's seams, and in this scanty moisture she set
the bottoms of her crisped shoes; but the anguish
of all her hurts was unceasing, and hard for a little
girl to bear in secret.
A star on the lake edge with white blots behind
it turned satisfactorily into a camp-fire before a
semicircle of tents. The tinkling sound of guitar
music came from a group of figures sitting around
the camp-fire, and at intervals a chorus of voices
swelled high, drowning the guitar.
Some children came scampering down to the
water's edge, a man walking behind them.
How many fish did you catch, prangois ?" they
He has brought you three muskallonge,
already baked," said Monsieur Lavoie in English,
lifting his voice to reach the children's ears and
his hat in general courtesy.
At that sound, and at sight of strange folks, they
hung back from the boat, and the man hurried up
to help out his guests.
He heard very few words before taking all three
patients to the camp-fire, and then into separate
tents to dress their burns. The guitar-playing and
singing broke up in a hurried search for soft cloths.
The English physician had not come camping
without preparation for all kinds of accidents. His
wife, and the young girls, her sisters, and a jolly
man, his cousin, who had made the camp-fire as
merry as the hearth of any ancient castle when
minstrels were in hall, now made it as bounteously
hospitable. They called up the sleeping cook,
who dressed Francois's fish; and they spread for
a great supper the long table of boards nailed to
low posts set in the ground, which had a tree to
canopy it. Those who were not needed to help
the doctor ran from storehouse to table with
loaves, pots of jam, butter, preserves of rose and
ginger, tinned meats, and everything which the
camp afforded.
The cook in his shed, upon a rusty stove which
showed that rain had leaked upon it, but which was
yet the key-note of comfort in camp, browned
muskallonge and made hot coffee.
The children, staying up beyond bedtime to see

what Frangois brought, were having still longer
holiday to see what was done for those refugees
from the fire. They hung approvingly around the
supper. There were plenty of cots in the tents,
every train to Agnes bringing friends who came out
here for a day's or a night's experience of camping.
When the doctor was done dressing his patients,
two mummies walked out of two tents and were
led together to the table.
"Papa," said Aurele, you look worse than the
papooses we saw away below Tadoussac."
I am sorry I have not yet the pleasure of seeing
how you look, my daughter."
"Papa, you may see me with your mind. I look
like one of those young French babies in the west-
ern part of the province that they seal up tight in
bolsters, you remember."
Both spoke in English to avoid rudeness toward
their entertainers, and one of the young English
girls presently spoke to them in French, to compli-
ment them by the use of their own language.
Marcelline Charland was unable to leave the
tent where the doctor dressed her burns. She lay
on a cot packed in cloths. This child of few
pleasures, who had scarcely in her life been waited
on except by Bruno and Alvine, and was used to
being at the nod and call of exacting people, now
found herself tended and fed like an infant by
people much above her.
Two children stood by, after their elders left
the tent, and told her how much fun it was to camp
beside Megantic. Every summer they came to
this spot. It was called their cove. Sunset was
the time to go in bathing. Then the water was
warm and the sand like velvet. You could put on
your bathing-suit and wade all around the cove,
never going over your head. They were both
learning to swim, and offered to give points to
Marcelline if she felt able to take a plunge to-
morrow. Then you could course through the
woods above camp, and find lovely pink and brown
fungus shelves sticking out on trees, and numberless
lichens on rocks; and something made a noise in
those woods that was n't a cow either, so you 'd better
be back near camp at sundown, for some men at
Agnes shot a wildcat once. And they knew where
you could get all the hill strawberries you wanted.
To this talk Marcelline listened with respect, not
understanding a word.
When the English-Canadian children were put
into their own cot-beds she watched a lamp
screwed to the center-pole, and listened to voices
outside around the camp-fire, and to water lap-
ping the sand. Even pain has its pleasant side; for,
though Marcelline was feverish during the night,
she had a grateful sense of being well cared for.

(To be continuedd)








OHIO "* exclaimed a familiar voice.
I glanced up from the letter which I was engaged
in writing as I sat upon the front veranda of the
Windsor House, one of the principal foreign hotels,
situated on the "bund in the Port of Yokohama.
The voice was that of a young Englishman whose
acquaintance I had made on board the steamer
that carried me from the shores of Uncle Sam's
domain to the Land of the Rising Sun. Return-
ing by way of the United States from England,
whither he had gone on the business of the large
Yokohama mercantile house with which his father
was connected, he had happened to take at San
Francisco the steamer upon which I had engaged
passage. The acquaintance thus begun ripened to
a fast friendship after our arrival at Yokohama.
His home was on The Bluff," the foreign resi-
dence portion of Yokohama; and, although mak-
ing the hotel my nominal headquarters, I was
very frequently his guest at his table and by his
fireside. Whenever I made a tour of exploration
through the town, I called first at the business
house where he was employed, to see whether he
could accompany me. Almost invariably he man-

aged to arrange his work so that he could go with
me. With his help I could better understand the
significance of the strange things I saw, and draw
truer conclusions from the experiences which fell
to my lot. On this occasion he had taken the
trouble to come for me to the hotel.
"Ohio," I said, returning the Japanese saluta-
tion, and rising to receive him.
"What are you doing here at this hour?" he
"Writing some letters for to-morrow's mail," I
replied. "What else should I be doing? "
You should be on your way with me to the
railway station," he answered.
What is the attraction there ?" I asked.
"The arrival of the great 'Tenshisama' from
Tokio by special train," was the reply.
What the Mikado ?"
"Even he, the son of heaven; the nin-wd, or
king of men; the kAtei, or august ruler."
What brings him here?"
"Had you forgotten that this is the first day of
the Yokohama races? The Mikado perhaps has
come to see the races."

* Good-morning.

~ I~iai

-_e~B' ~"' ''"

i, ''


When does the imperial train arrive?"
"It is due here at eleven o'clock, and it will
arrive exactly on time. It leaves Tokio at o1: i5.
That allows three-quarters of an hour for the run
of eighteen miles, an average speed of twenty-four
miles an hour without stops. You will perceive
that the Emperor of Japan is n't so ambitious to
travel at great speed as most sovereigns are
supposed to be."
What time is it now? "
"Nearly a quarter to eleven. We shall hardly
have time to reach the station."

all sorts of questions about the Oriental monarch
we were about to see,-just as I always availed
myself of the opportunity to draw upon his inex-
haustible fund of general information regarding
the island, when we were going about together.
The present Mikado's name is Mutsuhito," he
said. The name may be translated benevolent
man.' He is the one hundred and twenty-third
emperor in the imperial line, and boasts -or
could boast if he chose to do so of belonging to
the oldest dynasty of monarchs in the world. The
first emperor in this line was a contemporary of

4. 'si-


I will go, of course. It would never do to
miss seeing the Mikado, when there is such an
Certainly it would not. Besides, there is no
haste about finishing your letters. The morn-
ing paper says that the O. and O. mail-steamer is
still in Hong Kong and will arrive here three days
So we started, post-haste, for the railway sta-
tion. On the way I peppered my companion with

Nebuchadnezzar,- think of it! The name Mikado
itself means 'honorable gate,' like the Egyptian
term 'pharaoh,' and reminds one of the Turkish
'sublime porte.' The first Mikado was Jimmu
Tenno. As he began to reign about 660 B. C.,
Japanese chronology begins professedly at that
point. The first seventeen Mikados are said to
have lived to be over one hundred years of age,-
one attaining the advanced age of one hundred
and forty-one years. Seven of the one hundred


and twenty-three sovereigns in this great
dynasty have been women."
"Has n't the present monarch any other
name besides Mutsuhito? I inquired.
"No," was the reply. "The Mikados
have personal names, but no family names.
When they die, however, each receives an
okuri-na, or posthumous name, by which he
is known in history, and no mikado can bear
the name of a predecessor. In two instances,
however, Mikados have reigned twice, and
have received two posthumous titles each.
During his life the Chinese characters rep-
resenting the personal name of the Mikado
were forbidden to be used (or if used, a stroke
liad to be omitted), the reigning Mikado being
designated as kin'y, 'the present emperor,'
or kdtei, august ruler,' and the first time in
history that the sovereign's name appeared
during his life-time was when Mutsuhito, in
February, 1868, delivered to the foreign
ministers a document in which he announced

,,' ., ', .


G .A : ..T


that the dual government was at an end, and that Well, although as early as 25 B. C. four
he himself had assumed the supreme government." corps for the defense of the country against the
aborigines had been created, and each placed
'l' under a stgun or general, it was not until
S .'..- the seventh century that a military class
.- began to make itself felt. From the twelfth
century onward, two great military families
S were rivals for the military supremacy, that
Sone being successful which had possession of
the Mikado for the time being. But it was
not till 1596, when the Tokugawa family in
the person of Iy6yasd overcame all rivals,
Sa, f j and made their headquarters at Yedo, that
.W the so-called dual government really began.
In 1854 the then-ruling shogun or 'tycoon'
iI': gave great offense by signing the treaty with
Perry, which formally 'opened' Japan, enab-
Sling eastern and western nations alike to estab-
/lish commercial and diplomatic relations with
the little island empire which had for so many
centuries preserved its national isolation.
( AH A period of anarchy and bitter antagonism
to foreigners followed, however, for over ten
Q years. The western nations resented the
barbarous way in which their subjects,
resident in Japan, were treated, and sent an
-expedition against the empire. Suddenly, by
./ one of those freaks of sentiment which have
won for the Japanese the reputation of being
k- 7 fickle, a reaction in favor of the despised
Foreigner set in, the shogunate was sup-
THE REAL MAKADO. pressed, the two hundred and seventy-eight
daimios, or military princes, in the empire,
"How long did the dual government of Japan from patriotic motives resigned their estates into
last ? I asked, now thoroughly interested, the hands of the emperor, and harmony pre-


vailed all around. This unification of the national
government took place in 1868."
"And just what is the form of government
now? I asked.
"The Mikado is supreme in temporal and
spiritual matters alike; Shintoism is the state
religion; there is an executive ministry consisting
of eight departments, a Senate of thirty mem-
bers, a Council of State (unlimited in number),
and a Great Council, the real governing body. This
Great Council has three sections-the Right,
which consists of the executive ministry; the Left,
which consists of the council of state; and the Cen-
ter, composed of the prime minister, the vice-
prime minister, and a cabinet of five 'advisers.'
Matters of great importance come before the

origin a mirror, a crystal ball, and a sword -are
still cherished in the palace where the emperor is
now living. These emblems have come to be
viewed much as the inhabitants of Troy viewed
the Palladium of their city."
"What has been the history of the present
Mikado's reign, thus far ? "
Mutsuhito was the second son of Mikado
Kamei Tenno. The succession is not determined
by the order of birth in the royal family, you will
see. The Mikado nominates his own successor.
Mutsuhito was born November3, 1850, in the castle
at Kioto, which had for years been the Mikado's
capital, and therefore the sacred city of Japan. He
grew up in the palace, never being allowed to see
a foreigner until he was nineteen years of age,

-A -

!c^ ~ ---
\J -^^^ L ^



Mikado and the Great Council; but unimpor- In 1867 his father died, and he was declared em-
tant questions go to the ministers. The Mikado peror under the care of a regent. He was then
is still an absolute monarch, but he has prom- but seventeen years of age. A year later the re-
ised an elective parliament, to be organized in agency was abolished. Early in 1868 Keiki San,
1890." the Sh6gun who was then in power, finding the
"Does the Mikado still claim descent direct chief nobles and daimios against him, retired, and
from the gods? the Mikado, as already stated, assumed the reins
Yes, and the sacred emblems of his spiritual of government himself, and a few days later an in-
Shintoism has since been disestablished, and there is now no state religion in Japan. The recent advances of Christianity in
the Empire are marvelous.




citation came to each of the foreign representa-
tives to visit Kioto,-an invitation which was
accepted by only two, the British and Dutch
ministers. Later, however, the French minister
also decided to accept. On March 23, 1868, the
emperor gave audiences to the ambassadors of
i'rance and Holland. This was the first time a
japanese emperor ever granted an interview to
representatives of Christian nations. Four days
l ter, Sir Harry Parkes, the British minister, with
:. numerous native and foreign guard, while on his
'..ay to the palace to meet the Mikado according
i: appointment, was attacked by assassins, and
.,nly saved by the bravery of Mr.. Goto Shojiro, an
officer of the Japanese Foreign Department, who
-ode at Sir Harry's side. The next day the imperial
d-cree was issued by which treaty relations were
established with foreign powers. On April 6th
*f the same year he took the oath which is the
-asis of the present government, pledging himself
, establish a representative government. This
.as the emancipation of Japan from 'the unciv-
z:ed customs of former times.' From the hour
hen he took that oath dates the emergence of
ie empire from the old feudal civilization, and
're Europeanization of people and country. You
*:ill perceive that the distinguished gentleman
ihom we are to see to-day has witnessed some
momentous changes in his time."
"Yes, indeed. When was Tokio made the
capital ? "
"In the following year, 1869. In 1872 the
l.ikado adopted European dress and habits of life,
ac least for public service. His new palace is to be
mainly in European style."
By this time we had reached the vicinity of the
station. There appeared to be no excitement, al-
though it was generally known that His Majesty
would soon make his appearance. I suppose there
were not above two hundred persons gathered at the
station, and of these by far the greater part were
jinriki-sha runners, hucksters, coolies, attaches of
the railway, and people in the lower walks of life
who happened to be in the vicinity. National
flags (a red disk on a white ground) adorned the
front of the station, but otherwise there were no
decorations visible anywhere in town. Two weeks
later (November 3, 1882), when the emperor's
thirty-second birthday was celebrated, the houses
and stores everywhere, and the ships in the bay,
were profusely decked.
Just inside of the station on the stone floor stood
the Mikado's private coach, to which a magnificent
span of Arabian horses was attached. This coach
and span had been sent on from Tokio by an early
freight train, in advance of the royal party. This
was not the equipage used by the emperor on state

occasions, I was told, but simply His Majesty's
ordinary carriage. The horses were very docile,
yet they were manifestly full of mettle, and bore
themselves with the dignity becoming animals
privileged to wear gold-mounted harness and to
draw the Emperor of Japan. The coach was ele-
gant in finish, but modestly plain throughout. It
was covered by a green silk cloth, bearing the
Mikado's crest on either side in dull gold. The
most gorgeous thing about the coach was the tas-
seled and embroidered box-cloth provided for the
Near the coach were standing the coachmen,
who had accompanied the royal equipage on its
journey from Tokio to Yokohama, and the em-
peror's private body-guard. The coachmen were
immaculately dressed, wearing garments modeled
after the foreign style. Their heavy dress-coats
almost touched the floor, they wore white gloves,
and the men's small size was partly overcome
by the addition of tall silk hats with wide gold
We had yet two or three minutes to wait, and
my friend utilized the time by recalling some inter-
esting reminiscences.
"Ten years ago," he said, "the advent of the
Mikado in Yokohama would have created a tre-
mendous sensation. I remember very well the
occasion when the Mikado first appeared publicly
before a promiscuous gathering of his subjects. It
was at Tokio, upon the completion of the Yoko-
hama railway, eleven years ago, I think. I was
but a mere boy then, of course. The emperor
was seated upon a rude temporary throne erected
in the station. As he took his seat and became
visible, every native present prostrated himself,
laying his face in the very dust. Mutsuhito
not only permitted himself to be seen. but made
a little speech to his subjects. It was a strange
day for Japan. Few of the Japanese present had
ever expected to live to see the day when the sa-
cred Mikado would forsake the solitude of his
luxurious prison-palace. Prior to that day he had
been more of a prisoner than is the ex-king of
Oudh in his sumptuous quarters at Calcutta."
I suppose his people think he is the most
gracious and condescending of sovereigns," I ob-
"No doubt. And yet even now he does not
come and go as freely as most monarchs. When-
ever he goes out he is accompanied by a body-
guard, and maintains everywhere an impenetrable
reserve. A tourist might stay in the capital city
for years without beholding his sacred person,
unless he accommodated himself to the few set times
when His Majesty appears by announcement before
his people."




How about the empress ?"
"She is, of course, even more exclusive. The
women belonging to the aristocracy of Japan are
very seldom seen by travelers. Her photograph
shows her to be a very pretty woman, and she takes
so much interest in the young of her sex that with
her own money she has founded a normal school
for Japanese girls."
At this moment the royal train rolled into the

S .- .. IL

"' :

depot. First came a locomotive, plentifully dec-
orated from smoke-stack to tender with chrysan-
themums, laurel, and immortelles. Then followed
even first-class carriages, filled with high officials
and court attendants. The imperial coach was in
the middle of the train.
Every head was bent low in a prolonged but
silent greeting. The obeisances were scarcely
deeper, however, than the Japanese make one to
another anywhere and at any time.
"There is nothing required now in the way of
formal homage to the emperor," whispered my
friend, "and only one thing expressly prohibited
in the way of disrespect. No subject can look
down upon him."
"Look down upon him? I repeated.
Yes," was the reply. Literally, I mean. No
Japanese is permitted to view the Mikado from
an upper window as he passes by in the street
"Under penalty of l-- ?
Arrest and imprisonment."
At this point two or three functionaries stepped
from the imperial coach, followed a moment later
by a tall, erect young man dressed in a uniform of
dark-blue stuff, with immense white stripes down

the trousers on each side, a broad white band
around his soldierly cap, and the ubiquitous royal
crest (consisting of sixteen chrysanthemum petals
arranged in the form of a medallion) showily em-
bellished in silver upon the lapel of his coat. This
was he who swayed the destinies of 35,000,000 of
I find my remembrances of the emperor's feat-
ures somewhat at variance with the ordinary por-

MI ---~ .z

I ''Iii.A

traits of him which appear from time to time in
magazine articles and in the pictorial press. He
is decidedly not a handsome man. Indeed it was
to my mind his bearing in spite of his face, and
not his face at all, which gave him the air of
dignity I might almost say of austerity which
characterized him. His face was swarthy, rather
unintellectual than strong, and adorned with a pre-
carious growth of whiskers. As beards are not
indigenous to the Japanese chin, I could not ad-
mire his good taste, so much as I did his courage,
in trying to raise a beard. I notice that his later
photographs represent him with only a mustache.
His Majesty, attended by an honorary guard of
officials, walked rapidly from the car through a
waiting-room and entered his coach, from which
the green cloth was now removed. The other
Tokio dignitaries entered handsome coaches pro-
vided by some Yokohama stable, and the whole
procession proceeded direct to the race-course,
accompanied by an escort of soldiers, police, and
musicians. The road that led to the track had
been freshly graded, rolled, and graveled in honor
of the royal party.
Anxious to gain still another glimpse of Japanese
royalty, I persuaded my friend to go up to Tokio


with me, a fortnight later, to witness the ceremonies
in connection with the celebration of the emperor's
birthday in that city. There are a great many
holidays observed in the Orient, even the banks
and leading business-houses closing on the slightest
provocation. I think there were twenty-one so-
called legal holidays each year in Yokohama, at
the time of which I am now writing. During
the three days of the Yokohama races already re-
ferred to, for instance, every bank and prominent
business house in the city was closed It goes with-
out saying, therefore, that on the occasion of the
emperor's birthday all business was suspended,
and that in the capital city the native and foreign
population alike were wholly given over to the ob-
servance of the day.
The principal attraction in Tokio was in the
quarter called Hibiya, or "parade-ground." We
proceeded thither in jinriki-shas. Here the impe-
rial troops in garrison, to the number of seven thou-
sand, were to parade before the Mikado on a large
open square reserved for that purpose. When we
arrived, the vicinity was thronged with great num-
bers of men, women, and children, all arrayed in
holiday attire. There was a reserved space in the
most eligible part of the grounds, but as our names
had been omitted, in some unaccountable way,
from the list of distinguished personages to whom
invitations and passes had been sent, we contented
ourselves with crowding as near to the front as
In general the sights were such as are character-
istic of these occasions the world over. There were
innumerable booths, where enterprising natives
were taking advantage of the gathering to do a big
business on a small scale ; the articles of merchan-
dise consisting of all sorts of toys, banners, con-
fectionery, photographs, fruits, and a thousand
strange-looking articles besides, the classification

of which is beyond my power. I was impressed,
however, with the minuteness of the profits made.
There were articles on sale with the prices marked
in rin, the tenth part of a cent. One sen (of a
value little less than an American cent) would
buy a glass of a beverage corresponding to our
lemonade, half a dozen sticks of candy, or a collec-
tion of pulpy wads which became handsome ferns
upon being cast into a vessel of water.
The behavior of the crowd was rather quiet.
There was no hurrahing, no applause, and no audi-
ble salutation of the emperor and his staff when
they arrived on the grounds.
The Mikado was mounted on a fine Arabian
horse, and came preceded, attended, and followed
by a body-guard of policemen and lancers. The
leading officers of state accompanied the royal ret-
inue, all arrayed in their finest military uniforms
and mounted on their favorite chargers.
The parade and review were an agreeable sur-
prise. Although the small size and smooth faces of
the soldiers detracted somewhat from their mili-
ary aspect, the discipline displayed was good, and
many of the evolutions were very pleasing to the
eye. The cavalry managed their horses admirably.
After the review the foreign representatives pro..
ceded to the imperial yashiki by invitation, and
enjoyed a luncheon served in Japanese fashion. In
the evening a splendid reception was held at the
private residence of His Excellency the Minister
of Foreign Affairs, which was attended by more
than a thousand guests, native and foreign. The
house was lavishly decorated, and the extensive
grounds illuminated as only grounds in the Orient
are illuminated. A feature of the reception was a
magnificent display of fire-works, in which the
novelties introduced and the combinations of colors
were the subject of admiring comment on the part
of the foreign population.




THE sea-lions of San Miguel Bay were not often
disturbed in their solitude by human visitors. Once
in a while, curiosity or a desire for seal-oil took men
there; but as a rule the bay and the little island
which it indented were deserted except by the sea-
iions and gulls.
One morning in August, however, the sea-lions
awoke to find a little schooner resting as placidly
as a sleeping gull on the calm water of the land-
locked bay.
The bay was calm, indeed; but a glance toward
the open sea told of a storm that had raged the
night before; and though unbroken by waves,
there was an angry swell on the bosom of the
usually quiet Pacific that told of a fury not yet
It required no very keen eye to discern that the
little schooner- "Emily" was the name painted on
the stern had been roughly treated by the ele-
The topsails were torn into shreds the frayed
ends of which told of many a fierce snap in the
gale; and the deck was in a confusion only to be
produced through continued washing by storm-
dashed waves.
On the deck lay two boys. Each had an arm around
a stanchion and both had the soft, regular breath-
ing which betokens healthful sleep. And good need
had they to sleep, for the preceding night had
been passed in wakefulness and terror.
"Just for fun," as Joe Rousby had said, he and
his friend Bob Slater had rowed to the Emily "
as she lay at anchor in Santa Barbara Bay on the
afternoon before, and had started for a sail, in
spite of angry remonstrances of old Captain Mar-
tin; for though usually willing to let Joe have the
schooner, he had three good objections against
lending her at that time.
First, he had just fitted out the "Emily" for a
fishing cruise; second, he saw a storm coming up;
and third, he did not like his property to be used
against his wishes.
The storm had caught the boys, and, unable to
return to the bay, they had been driven helplessly
about all night, until, thoroughly exhausted, they
had dropped to sleep where they lay.
Joe was the first to be wakened by the bright
warm beams of the sun and the deafening chorus
VOL. XVI.-18.

of barks and yelps that issued from the throats of
the sea-lions. He sprang to his feet and looked
around. Then with a shout of joy he stooped
over and vigorously shook his sleeping companion.
Bob Oh, Bob! he exclaimed. We're safe,
we 're safe "
"Eh !" said Bob, quickly rising to his feet,
Safe -safe? Where -where are we ? How did
we get here ? "
"We're in San Miguel Bay," answered Joe;
for there 's the Santa Rosa," pointing to a high
hill on a neighboring island, and there are the
Santa Inez mountains," pointing to the range back
of Santa Barbara. "How we came here I don't
know, unless we struck on that neck of land, and
were washed over. It must have turned ebb soon
after or we 'd be ashore, now."
What 's that noise ?" asked Bob.
That," said Joe, is the welcome of the sea-
Sea-lions repeated Bob, looking out on the
ocean. "Where ? I can't see any."
Can't see any? Why, if you look toward
shore you can't see anything else! Don't you see
those black things crawling about on the rocks all
around the bay ?"
Bob thought that he did.
We must get home as quick as we can," said
Joe, after they had dropped anchor, bathed, and
breakfasted, for our folks will be dreadfully
frightened. They '11 think we are drowned. But
won't Captain Martin bless us when he sees his
topsails made into shoe-strings," he added with a
rueful glance upward.
How much would it cost to have new ones
made ?" asked Bob.
Oh I don't know. Fifty dollars maybe -
twenty-five, anyhow; and five dollars is the extent
of my pile. Have you any money ? "
Dollar," replied Bob, dismally. I wish we 'd
taken the captain's advice instead of his schooner!
Father can't afford to pay for the sails, you know;
and your mother can't, of course. But we must
do it somehow."
It 's all very well to say we must," said Joe;

"but how ? That 's the question. I 'd hate to go
back without a word to the old man. He 's been
very kind to me, Bob; and I had no business to


take the Emily' when he forbade it. I only did
it for fun. I 'm afraid, though, that mother is right,
when she says somebody else generally has to pay
for my fun! What a noise those sea-lions do
make Oh, oh, an idea, Bob An idea as
sure as you live "
What is it? asked Bob, eagerly.
Let 's take a sea-lion home and exhibit him,
and make some money that way. The people at
the hotel would pay to see one; and lots of the
town-people have never seen a sea-lion, although
the islands are full of them."
That's so," said Bob; "for I never saw any
before. But how can we take one home? We'll
have to catch him first."
"Naturally!" said Joe; "but that's easy
enough. I've seen them caught lots of times.
And once I saw two that were caught and taken
alive to San Francisco; so I know how to do it
all. The trouble will be in making a cage."
"A cage? "
Yes, you see we lasso him- "
And there is Pedro Gonzales's lasso in the
cabin interrupted Bob.
So it is," said Joe. "Then I won't have to
make one. After he is lassoed, we must put him
in a big cage -and tow him out to the schooner. I
could make the cage, if only I had the wood.
There are tools and nails enough on board."
"Can't we find any wood on shore?" asked
I 'm afraid Yes! there's an old tumble-down
shanty that was used by some men who came here
once for seal-oil. We 'll get the boards from that.
Come on and we '11 lower the boat."
Along the shore was a line of low rocks, with
here and there a broad patch of sandy beach, or an
occasional spur of rocks standing out like a senti-
nel. But now neither rocks nor sand could any-
where be seen, because of the hundreds and thou-
sands of sea-lions playing and basking in the sun.
Bob would have been content to watch their
comical antics for the whole morning; but Joe
said they must hurry. So they rowed to a smooth
piece of beach and pulled the boat up, much to the
consternation of the assembly of sea-lions, which
barked, flapped, rolled, and tumbled over one an-
other in their haste to gain the water.
Joe led the way to the ruined shanty, and at
once began to split the boards into strips three
inches wide. The finished cage was not remark-
able for beauty; but, as Joe said, it was strong
and a sea-lion would not be critical about the ap-
pearance of it. It was about seven feet long by
three feet high and wide.
The boys quietly rolled it to a spot as near as
possible to the piece of beach where they had

landed, and where the sea-lions were by this time
again gathered. One side of the cage was left
uncovered, but slats with nails driven in the right
places stood ready for instant use. Joe had been
careful to approach the timid creatures from
the side away from the wind, and they had not
taken alarm.
Like many boys of Southern California, Joe and
Bob were skillful in the use of the lasso; but as
Joe was more expert, Bob took only a rope with
a noose on the end, to slip over the creature's tail,
after Joe should have lassoed the head.
With the noose in his right hand, and the coils
of the lariat hanging on his left arm, Joe crouched
behind a rock and peered about to select a good
"There he said, after a short pause; "do
you see that big fellow, sleeping away as if it were
midnight and were never to be anything else ?
Let's catch him. Follow close, Bob, for I may
need you to help hold him."
Joe ran swiftly toward the selected lion, paying
no attention to the others, which at once began a
pell-mell rush for the water. The destined victim
also did its best to flop away to safety as soon as it
had waked up; but Joe's noose was already cir-
cling through the air, and the clumsy beast sud-
denly found itself provided with a necktie fitting
uncomfortably tight.
The sudden jerk that Joe gave the lariat pulled
the animal over on its side; Joe laid back with all
his might, and Bob was by his side in a moment.
But the sea-lion, after its first astonishment, fell
into a rage, and began a furious struggle, now
to reach the water, and now to reach the boys, so
that the would-be captors had quite as much as
they could do, alternately to pull the animal from
the water and to keep away from it themselves.
The angry monster roared, snarled, and gnashed
its long, sharp teeth in a style which emphatically
discouraged any close intimacy.at that moment;
and though it evidently had considerable trouble
in breathing, it did not seem to be much worse off
than the boys; for their efforts made them pant
quite as hard as did the captured lion.
For some minutes it was nip and tuck"; and,
as Joe said, it seemed for a while that tuck was
likely to have the best of it" ; but just as the boys
were about to give up the fight the sea-lion sud-
denly ceased to struggle.
Get your noose over its tail! Quick, Bob,"
said Joe.
Bob ran, and fortunately succeeded at the first
attempt. The lion made one more effort to escape
when it found its tail imprisoned, but it was evi-
dently exhausted. The lion had been too fond of
eating and sleeping, Joe said; and he also declared


fir'si~,~ .kI

-__;-.n.Z4 j~~~- -

~~,~~e~~;f ~ ~ -,3~~bl+- u~

that if it had not been so -
fat and stupid they could
never have held it.
Bob now took the
two ropes, while Joe as .
quickly as possible rolled -
the cage down to where .iP
thecaptivelay, andturned
it over the sea-lion.
Then, with some difficulty, the boys slipped the
ropes under the edges of the cage and up through
the top, and tied them firmly. Next they turned the
cage over and poked at the sea-lion with sticks until

ti;~= t

whales and hippopotamuses; they can stay under
water a long time."
When they reached the Emily" they contrived,
after some hard work, and by means of a clever


it moved back into the cage; then, turning the cage
over once more, with the open side up, the slats
were quickly nailed on. The creature being safely
caged at last, the boys rolled their captive down to
th'iT '. i. .r *.,',..l r.. h ,: ,,.i -..1 0-,o w t,, rl',: ;.:! .... o r .
OW* *[h : ( ,. 'l*. i' !-," h:: i i i l.d r it...

1i rl ir p ,. :- ? ri pr1-m.: 1.r b ,


. ,, -,..


arrangement of blocks and tackles, to get the
cage with its snarling occupant on deck. A good
wind was blowing in the right direction, so they
hoisted sail at once, towing the boat behind them.
They postponed dinner, although they were very
hungry, until they were fairly under way.
Notwithstanding the good breeze, the usually
lively Emily" seemed unaccountably slow. To
be sure, they had no topsails; but that deficiency
was not enough to account for the lumbering way
in which the schooner moved. The afternoon
wore away and still the islands seemed hardly five
miles distant, while the mainland looked as far off
as ever. It began to appear as if the boys must
spend another night on the schooner.
"What's that?" exclaimed Bob suddenly,
pointing northward.
Joe shaded his eyes and looked. "That," said
he, "is the San Francisco steamer on her down
trip. Get the telescope out of the cabin. I'11 see
if I can make out which one it is."
Bob jumped down the hatchway, but imme-
diately re-appeared with a frightened face, gasping:
Joe Oh, Joe the cabin 's full of water "
Joe stared a moment, then cried, Hold this
wheel! and ran down the ladder.
She's sinking, Bob," he exclaimed the next
moment, as with white face he re-appeared on deck.
" We must get off as quick as we can."
The small boat was drawn alongside and they
clambered into it. The boys were hastily pushing
off, when Joe remembered the sea-lion.
"Bob," he exclaimed, "it's a shame to leave
the poor lion to die. I'm sure he can't live in
that cage."
Will there be time to unloose him ? "
"I think so," said Joe, pulling back to the
schooner. At any rate I '11 risk it."
He climbed up on the schooner again, and sud-
denly it occurred to him that it would do no harm
to tow the animal after them. If they were picked
up, they would be able to save it; and if they were
not, they might, at the worst, perhaps.eat it.
The boys were cooler now, and together they
managed to get the cage overboard; and besides
they put many small but valuable things from the
cabin into the boat. Then they rowed away and
tried to get as near the steamer's course as possible.
"What do you suppose made the 'Emily'
leak? inquired Bob.
"She must have knocked a hole in her when
she went ashore last night," said Joe. Perhaps
it was a small hole and the water was a long time
getting in. That 's why she sailed so slowly."
Fortunately the officer on the deck of the steamer
had already seen the sinking of the schooner ; then,
sweeping the ocean with his glass, he saw the small

boat with flags of distress waving vigorously; for
the boys, as the steamer came nearer, left the oars,
shook their handkerchiefs and shouted.
When the boys and their sea-lion -which they
insisted upon keeping were taken on board, they
told their story. The gruff old sailor who com-
manded the steamer read them a severe lecture,
and told them that he did not stop at Santa Bar-
bara on his down trip; but that he would leave
them at Santa Monica and take them up, three
days later, on his return voyage.
There was no help for it, so the boys made them-
selves as comfortable as possible, and when they
arrived in port, telegraphed to their parents. The
hotel-keeper at Santa Monica consented to keep
them until the return of the steamer.
Of course the story was told in the local paper
with all the details, not forgetting the sea-lion,
which had been put ashore too. The result was
that they had many visitors so many that they
were considering the propriety of charging an
admittance fee to see not only the sea-lion, but
themselves as well, so that they might collect some
money for Captain Martin, whom they felt they
had treated very badly. Indeed, they were even
debating the price they should charge, when the
hotel-keeper came up to them and whispered:
"There 's a circus-man from Los Angeles look-
ing at your sea-lion. Keep your eyes open, boys "
The boys could not understand why a circus-
man looking at their sea-lion should demand
unusual vigilance on their part.
Mornin'," said a drawling voice behind them;
"you are the chaps who ran away with the
schooner ?"
"We did n't really run away with .her," said
Bob independently.
Eg-zactly," said the stranger. She run away
with you, did n't she? Eh ? Ha, ha, ha!"
The boys maintained a dignified silence.
".I 've just been a-lookin' at your sea-lion," said
the man, taking a seat by Joe.
"Oh! exclaimed Joe. "You 're from the
circus in Los Angeles."
"Just so !" assented the man in surprise, think-
ing the boys were very sharp. So you know me,
do you ? Well then, I suppose you know what
I 'm after."
No," replied Joe, laughing at his own humor;
" unless you want Bob and me for curiosities."
Pretty good, pretty good ejaculated the cir-
cus-man, approvingly. But that is n't it. However,
I 'd like to take that lion off your hands if you 'll
sell him reasonable."
Sell him exclaimed the boys at once.
Yes, why not ? answered the man. What
can you make out of him ? I '11 give you a



fair price. Say, now, what will you take for
him ?"
Joe looked at Bob and Bob looked at Joe.
Joe saw that he must be spokesman. "You
know what he is worth," he said. "You set a
Set a price on your goods !" exclaimed the
man. "Not much. What '11 you take?"
"You offered to buy," said Joe. "You must
make us an offer."
"Pretty good pretty good said the man, who
seemed to admire anything shrewd, even if it was
against him. "Well, then, what do you say to
five hundred dollars ?"
"Five hundred dollars!" ejaculated both boys
in amazement at the sum which seemed to them
enormous for the paltry sea-lion.
But in truth, the sum was very much less than
is usually paid, and, as the circus man knew this,
he naturally supposed the boys were surprised at
so low an offer, so he said:
Well, why don't you set a price, then? What
do you say to a round thousand? "
It must be confessed that Joe thought he was
dreaming; but instinct, perhaps, or his natural
sharpness, made him say:
"Make it fifteen hundred, and you may have
him. Eh, Bob?"
Certainly," gasped Bob.
"The lion's mine," said the man at once;
"providing he 's sound. Is he hurt in any way ? "
Not a bit," replied Joe, who was wishing he
had asked more. "When will you pay us ?"
I '11 go to Los Angeles and be back this after-
noon with a draft," was the reply.

The boys told the landlord of the sale, where-
upon he bade them not to devote their time
to rejoicing until they had the draft and knew
it was good, too. So, in a state of mind made up
of hope and fear and doubt, the two boys whiled
away the day. But they need not have feared.
The circus manager returned that afternoon with
a certified check, which was declared good by the
local bank.
By the advice of the banker, they bought a
draft on San Francisco, reserving enough in cash to
pay for their board and for their passage. When
all this was done and the two boys stood alone in
their room, they first looked silently at each other
and then began to turn somersaults and to per-
form other strange antics.
Joe," said Bob at length, how much was the
'Emily worth ?"
I don't know," said Joe. Not over a thou-
sand dollars, though. Not so much."
Let's give Captain Martin a thousand dollars,
All right "
The telegram had robbed them of the grand
triumphal entry they had originally counted on
making into their native port, but their families
were glad to see them, and the boys agreed that it
was good to be home.
And, now, Mother," said Joe, with his arm
around her waist, "I know it was wrong of me,
and I 'm sorry; but you are glad of the two hun-
dred dollars, are n't you? You needed them,
did n't you? And you'll forgive me the worry I
caused you, won't you ? "
And, mother-like, she did.

THE deaf old sexton from his sleep is wakened by a yell:
Drowsily he gropes his way into the dark old steeple;
The bell clangs an alarm, and soon the village people
In panic, but half clad, toil through the clogging snow
To gather where the flames send out their ruddy glow.
An aimless, frightened flock, not knowing what to do,
They wring their helpless hands, until a wiser few
Have formed a double line, with .pails and dippers old.
Then to the blazing roof quick climbs a hero bold!
The surly flames in scorn hiss at his puny toil,
Though sturdily he strives to drive them from their spoil.
From door or open window, the frenzied housewives throw
Great mattresses, and mirrors upon the crowd below. ,
Alas!- the well is emptied !- the brave can do no more!
The crackling roof falls in ; the flames exulting roar.
The morning light discloses only the smoking ground
Strewn thick with household treasures in ruin all around.
A home has ceased to be. The blackened ruins bare,
In mockery of grief, seem mourning
weeds to wear. ICa
=~r ..7

I~ i
-! _;, a-

I.i oi.5
. HEdef ld exonfrm hs lep s akee by yel
,~ ~ Fir !~ Fire; !-Hry!-Gtu n oltebl
"~~~$- i rwiyhegoe i ayit h ak l tel
-Th el lag a lam adsoo hevllaepol
In pnicbuthalfcla, tol thoug theclogingsno


" TING, ting rings out a little bell. The horses, trained to their duty well,
Into harness go with a bound; men seem springing from the ground !
The fire under the boiler roars;
Backward rush the heavy doors.
Into the street with a cautious glide,
Then they gallop How they ride !
Steadily peals the warning gong,
Cleaving through the bustling throng,
With clatter-sparks-a rumbling sound.
A sudden stop,--the fire's found;
The hose unwinds, all ready to play,
The trembling engine throbs away,
The water falls in a curving beam,
The fire dies in a whiff of steam !
All is over, home they go;
Dignified horses, pacing slow,
Seeming to say, "The fire is out !
What is all the noise about? "



($II?- I.I




IF three little houses stood in a row,
\ith never a fence to divide,
And if each little house had three little maids
At play in the garden wide,
And if each little maid had three little cats
(Three times three times three),
And if each little cat had three little kits,
How many kits would there be ?

And if each little maid had three little friends
With whom she loved to play,
And if each little friend had three little dolls
In dresses and ribbons gay,
And if friends and dolls and cats and kits
Were all invited to tea,
And if none of them all should send regrets,
How many guests would there be?

-. ": -,





THE City of Washington is the seat of the Fed-
eral Government and, as such, the center of ad-
ministration. There the President has his head-
quarters, surrounded by Congress, by the Supreme
Court, by the Executive Departments, and by
many of the inferior offices and tribunals estab-
lished by Congressional enactment. The office
of President is of Constitutional creation, and the
exercise of his Constitutional functions is not
restrained to any particular place. It is different
with the administrative offices created by statute
and attached to the seat of Government; by legis-
lative command they must be exercised in the
District of Columbia and not elsewhere, except as
otherwise expressly provided by law. During the
sessions of Congress the President is practically
held prisoner at the Capital by the exactions of
legislative business, and rarely absents himself
longer than a few days at a time; the adjourn-
ment of Congress releases him from his heavy and
constant labors in connection with the making of
laws, and charged then only with the performance
of his purely executive duties, he may shift his
location as his personal convenience may prompt,
and issue his orders from any section of the country
to which he may go. Such has been the practice,
and such, in the light of custom, is his Constitu-
tional privilege. These absences have been in-
dulged in by every President except one (and
he, the grandfather of our next Executive, died
shortly after inauguration), and Presidential acts
of greater or less importance have thus occasion-
ally been performed away from Washington.
But such absences being in the nature of holiday
vacations, and the business so transacted by the
President being comparatively slight and of no
special significance, we need not pursue his move-

Whether the President could go outside the United States and
issue orders from abroad is a question that no President has given
us occasion to debate. Should circumstances call him abroad, it
is to be assumed that his absence would be treated as an "inability,"
within the meaning of the Constitution, and that his duties would
temporarily devolve upon the Vice-President.
tA suggestion that has found some favor in Congress is to con-
struct a new building in the rear of the present mansion, of similar

ments and work beyond his ordinary official
This official residence, designated by law as
"The President's House," is familiarly known
as the Executive Mansion or White House. Its
foundations were laid during the administration
of President Washington; its first occupant was
John Adams, who took possession in the fall of
18oo, when the Government formally removed to
the District of Columbia as its permanent seat.
The White House is a public edifice, in the sense
that it was built and is owned by the Government,
the free use of the building and its furniture being
assigned to the President, during his term of office.
It was designed, however, as its name, The Presi-
dent's House," implies, as the private habitation
of the President, and not as an office for the trans-
action of his public duties. But the original inten-
tion has not been carried out, and his private
abode (by the failure of Congress to make other
arrangements) is separated from his official quar-
ters only by a door.f And it would seem that
American tourists have never been able to distin-
guish the line between his public and his domestic
relations. In the time of Washington, the people
trooped through every part of his residence at all
hours of the day and night, and this annoyance,
of which he secretly complained, has been meekly
borne by many of his successors down to the advent
of President Cleveland. The private apartments
of the President are now closed against sightseers,
much to the vexation of a class who foolishly con-
tend that, as public property, the entire household
should be thrown open to general inspection.
It was high time that the President should take
this stand; and by words of sharp rebuke he has
attempted to teach some people a further lesson in
propriety. As an officer of the Government, the
official conduct of the President is a matter for
public view and criticism; as a private citizen, his
domestic affairs are his own, sacred from popular

size and connected with it by a corridor; the new wing to be used
exclusively as a private residence, and the old wing as an office for
the President and his official household. In the summer months, our
later Presidents have sought rest and privacy in a cottage at the
Soldiers' Home, in the outskirts of the city, using the White House
as a business office during the day. President Cleveland has secured
seclusion and quiet by building a suburban residence at his own


comment or intrusion. This ideal barrier, re-
spected by all honest and thoughtful persons,
seems invisible to partisan rancor and to a sensa-
tional society and press.
But neither the Constitution nor the laws recog-
nize any distinction between the person of the
President and the person of the humblest citizen.
They are both equal, so far as any assaults upon
their lives or reputations may call for legal redress;
and both alike are liable to punishment for of-
fenses against the law. Duringthe Presidency of
John Adams the vituperation heaped upon the
Chief Magistrate and upon others in authority was
so virulent and despicable and so hostile to the
dignity of the Government as to evoke from Con-
gress a severe law for its repression. This law,
however, at once became odious to the people,
jealous of the Constitutional right of freedom of
speech, and was speedily repealed. Two Presi-
dents have been struck down by the hands of as-
sassins, and with their fall the nation trembled.
National horror incited national apprehensions.
It was suggested that a mere attempt against the
life of a President should be deemed an offense
against the stability of the Government, and be
made punishable, as in other countries, by death.
But though the nation shook, the Republic re-
mained firm. The Vice-President instantly grasped
the reins of power, and the Government went
safely on. Popular excitement died out, and pop-
ular traditions revived. The American people
have declined to admit that the safety of republi-
can institutions depends upon the existence of any
one public man or any number of public men,
however high their stations of authority. The
killing of a President is ordinary murder; an un-
successful attempt upon his life is merely an assault
with intent to kill; defamation of his character is
simply libel or slander, and the gravity of each
offense, in the eye of the law, is neither more nor
less in the case of a President than where the vic-
tim or intended victim is a citizen in private life.*
If aggrieved by personal aspersions, the President
may appeal to the criminal or civil remedy open
through the courts of law to all citizens; or he
may seek refuge in the quiet philosophy that treats
such assaults as unworthy of notice and relies on
honorable society and journalism to ignore or re-
sent malicious and unjust abuse. As to the safety
of his person, his main reliance is upon the law-
abiding instincts and patriotism of the great mass
The only practical suggestion inspired by the last assassination
of a President, and actually adopted, was the extension of the line
of Presidential succession. Prior to 1886, this line consisted of the
Vice-President (who, by the terms of the Constitution, succeeds to
the office upon a vacancy arising through removal, death, resigna-
tion, or inability), the President iro tempore of the Senate, and
the Speaker of the House of Representatives. In r886, Congress

of the people. In the dark days of the war, Lin-
coln (yielding rather to the, entreaties of friends
than to his own inclination) was accompanied in
some of his rides about the Capital by armed horse-
men, or shadowed in his walks by officers on foot;
but in ordinary times of peace our Presidents have
scorned the possibility of dangers from which mon-
archs and other rulers are supposed to shrink even
in their sleep. Franklin Pierce, we are told, "used
to gallop about Washington at midnight on a
spirited steed which was totally blind "; Buchanan
strolled through the streets and markets of the
city, affably chatting with the passers-by and min-
gling with the crowd; Grant walked or rode with
free and fearless nonchalance, and once, when he
increased the pace of his horses beyond the speed
allowed by law, was promptly arrested for fast driv-
ing The grounds bf the Executive Mansion are
fenced with iron; a few watchmen guard the build-
ing and the park at night. That is the extent of
vigilance and force a bare show of prudence and
protection. In the daytime the grounds and house
are a public thoroughfare; the gates are seldom
closed; and expulsions from the place, occasion-
ally made by the attendants, are confined to that
peculiar class of visitors, more whimsical than
harmful, popularly described as "cranks."
As the law surrounds the President with no royal
provisions for personal protection, and with no royal
privileges of personal immunity, so there is an utter
absence of royal splendor or display in his official
household and surroundings. The appropriations
made by Congress afford no encouragement in this
respect. A private secretary, an assistant secretary,
three executive clerks, four assistant clerks, a stew-
ard (who, under the direction of the President, has
charge and custody of, and is responsible for, the
plate, furniture, and other public property in the
Executive Mansion), an usher, four messengers,
five doorkeepers, one watchman, and one fireman
constitute the entire office and household retinue
provided for by the present law. The contingent
expenses of the establishment- such as stationery,
telegrams, fuel, gas, furniture and carpets, books
for the library, care of grounds, and the like- are
borne by the Government. For food and kindred
items, whether purchased for his personal use or for
the state entertainments annually expected of him
as the head of official society, and for cooks, coach-
man, and other domestic attendants, he must pay
out of his personal funds; and with a salary of
changed this line by cutting off the President fro temnfore of the
Senate and the Speaker of the House, adding, in their stead,
the heads of Executive Departments, in the order in which those
heads were named in Chapter II. of this series (beginning with
the Secretary of State and ending with the Secretary of the Inte-
rior), but subject to certain qualifications and conditions stated in
the law.


only fifty thousand dollars a year, a President must
practice economy if he would keep his expenses
within the limits of his purse. An attempt to dis-
charge his social obligations with a princely hand
would quickly bring him to the brink of bank-
ruptcy. Washington, possessed as he was of an
independent fortune on which he could draw for
special luxuries, or to meet the demands of official
hospitality, requested Congress to regard only
"such actual expenditures as the public good
may be thought to require" in fixing the Presi-
dential compensation. The salary was accordingly
placed at twenty-five thousand dollars a year, and
so remained until 1873, when it was doubled in
amount. But twenty-five thousand dollars a cen-
tury ago "went further," as the saying is, than
fifty thousand dollars will reach to-day. The gilded
equipage of Washington, with its coachmen and
footmen in powdered wigs, and its white horses
with blackened hoofs," regal compared to the
private Presidential carriage of 1889, was only in
harmony with the brilliant style in which he
maintained the dignity of the "American Court."
In the stable of John Adams, stocked and sus-
tained at public cost, we find numerous horses,
plated harness, an elegant chariot," and other
vehicles and traveling paraphernalia. Jefferson
and Madison had horses of their own, but they
did not scruple to let the Government pay for the
expense of stabling. The "office carriage" and
horses now provided for White House convenience,
and used mainly by the assistant secretary in carry-
ing Presidential messages to the Capitol, are decid-
edly ordinary in value and appearance as are the
private vehicles and horses bought by the Presi-
dent for the personal use of himself and family.
It is well enough to believe in the sterling patriot-
ism of our forefathers, but it is idle to hold up the
administrations of bygone years as patterns of social
simplicity for the present generation of officials to
copy. The solid silver plate, forming part of the
public property in the White House, is no glaring
evidence of modern prodigality, and the President
need not abandon it for pewter simply to avoid un-
favorable comparison. There was certainly nothing
very wicked in the use by Van Buren of gold spoons;
but if there is a single feature of old-time extrav-
agance or pomp surviving to-day, a trip through
the Presidential offices, kitchen, and stable fails to
bring it to view. The social and ceremonial phase
of life at the White House will be taken up, how-

SWe have omitted all reference to the necessary qualifications
of the President and the manner of his election. These matters were
described in a previous series, published in ST. NICHOLAS; for an
explanation of that subject, and particularly of the Congressional work
of counting the electoral votes (a ceremony just now of special inter-
est), the reader is referred to the number for February, i885.
t This tedious and automatic hand-shaking (which, for conven-

ever, in another chapter; we may first observe
the details of the President's office work.*
The business apartments, few in number, are
situated on the second (or top) floor of the build-
ing. That occupied by the President (used by
him as office, private audience-room, and Cabinet
chamber) is guarded by a door-keeper, and admis-
sion is regulated by card, except in the case of
Members of Congress and prominent officials, who
are privileged to pass freely in and out during cer-
tain hours. The adjoining room is occupied by
the private secretary, the one beyond by the as-
sistant secretary, and an opposite room by clerks.
Much of the work daily performed in the Execu-
tive Mansion constitutes no part of the necessary
duties of the President, and is imposed by popular
ignorance and presumption. The desire of Ameri-
cans to take a look at their Chief Magistrate is
natural and proper enough in its way; but when
this curiosity insists upon wringing his hand by
wholesale and chattering compliments into his ear,
it becomes, to say the least, unreasonable. Still,
this is one of the ordeals to which he submits, with
more or less grace, out of deference to the public;
and hundreds of tourists file before him each week,
grasp his hand, murmur their trifles, and go away
with sensations of patriotic delight. f But his time
and patience are taxed not only by visiting tourists
and delegations calling merely to pay their respects.
He is besieged by persons of every description,
and by all sorts of petitions and complaints.
The most formidable and least welcome class of
callers is the army of chronic office-seekers. At
the beginning of a new Administration these ap-
plicants for "spoils" literally swarm about the
place. They adopt various methods to gain au-
dience with the appointing power, and, failing to
secure an interview, have recourse to correspond-
ence to advance their claims. Add to these indi-
viduals the personal intercessions of Congressmen
and others, and the thousands of written testi-
monials and recommendations in behalf of appli-
cants, and we may infer something as to the ex-
tent of this dreadful persecution. It is related that
Lincoln, in his perplexity as to the merits of two
rival candidates for office, grimly placed in a scale
the recommendations submitted by each, and set-
tled the matter by the actual weight of the papers.
Nor was he the only President harassed by such
contentions. The rush for place has driven some
minds to the verge of distraction; it is directly

ience in disposing of crowds, takes place in the large reception par-
lor, or East Room, on the entrance floor, instead of in the small
audience room above) has been styled the "Presidential pump-
handle performance." At one of these receptions, not long ago, more
than a thousand visitors, by actual count, shook the President's
hand within half an hour, being at the rate of forty shakes to a



responsible for the fatal illness of one President,
and indirectly responsible for the death of another.
Against the importunities of this class and of
other thoughtless and aggressive petitioners, the
private secretary acts as a defense. The office of
President of the United States was not designed as
a national intelligence and employment bureau.
He has duties of far more consequence than the
distribution of Federal patronage and the answer-
ing of private conundrums ; and, even were he so
disposed, he could not attempt, by reason of the
limits upon his time and physical endurance, to
hear every person wishing an interview, or person-
ally to attend to all inquiries sent him by mail.
Only a small proportion of the letters received,
or of the people who call upon private business
ever reach the eye of the President. The crowd
of callers, and the mass of correspondence that
daily deluge the White House, must first run the
gauntlet of the private secretary and subordinate
clerks in attendance. The experienced door-keeper
at the head of the stairway is a good judge of
faces; and if he has any misgiving about the par-
ticular mission of a caller, the caller is apt to be
invited politely to see the private secretary and
state the object of his visit. This official readily
disposes of trivial questions and business, and in
many cases the visitors go away better satisfied
with the advice or information so obtained than if
they had seen the President himself. The same
" sifting process is practiced in regard to the mail.
The letters are opened by the clerks, who select
for submission to the President only such as they
consider important or necessary for him to see, and
this selected batch is further reduced in size by the
final judgment of the private secretary. Every
letter, however, whether actually read by the Pres-
ident or not, receives attention. The numerous
communications addressed to him, as head of the
Republic, are restricted to no particular variety or
subject. Applications for pensions or for patents
put in frequent appearance, along with begging
appeals for money, quaint political comment or
advice, and notes expressing every shade of
popular eccentricity, desire, or fancy. While the
President is not the proper official to address for
information as to department or bureau doings, or
on like topics, yet such letters are not allowed to
go astray. If an application for a pension is re-
ceived, the private secretary promptly forwards it
to the Commissioner of Pensions, and courteously
informs the applicant of its receipt, and of the
disposition made of it. The same course is pur-
sued with other inquiries or requests, improperly
sent to the White House instead of to department
or bureau heads. All are duly acknowledged and
the correspondents steered into the proper chan-

nels. The private secretary, it should be stated, is
the organ of communication between the President
and the people. He has general direction of all
the office-work, and signs his name to office cor-
respondence as the President's representative. Pos-
sessing necessarily the absolute confidence of his
chief, the influence he wields in public affairs marks
him as a conspicuous figure in Administration
The business relations between the President and
Congress, so far as they are evidenced by work at
the Executive Mansion, consist in the making out
of nominations, forwarding of treaties, approval or
disapproval of bills, and the transmission of informa-
tion on general or special subjects. Bills and other
measures passed by Congress and forwarded to him
for signature, are presented to him in person by
some member of the Congressional Committee on
Enrolled Bills. As the President visits the Legis-
lative department only on rare occasions of cere-
mony, his communications are committed to paper,
signed by him, and delivered by the private secre-
tary or one of the office assistants in person. As a
matter of official courtesy, these communications
are closely guarded until actually delivered to the
House of Representatives or Senate. In the case
of treaties transmitted to the Senate, the secrecy
continues until removed by that body. The An-
nual Message (transmitted at the opening of Con-
gress), nominations to office, notifications of ap-
proval or disapproval of bills, and messages of
general or special information, are given publicity
through printed or manifold copies prepared for
the convenience of the press and furnished to the
correspondents the moment the originals reach
their legislative destination at the Capitol.
Upon the ratification of a treaty by the Senate,
it is promulgated by a Proclamation, signed by the
President and attested by the Secretary of State.
The designations of '"Thanksgiving Day," and
other Executive notifications intended for popular
guidance or warning, also take the form of Procla-
In matters of administration, the commands of
the President are communicated to the various
departments as "Executive orders." The heads
of department, popularly styled the President's
Cabinet," meet him at the White House every Tues-
day and Thursday morning for general conference.
In addition to these regular Cabinet meetings, spe-
cial consultations are sometimes called. In the
latter case, the private secretary may go through
the formality of summoning the officers by written
requests for their attendance, or adopt the speedier
and more business-like method of ringing them
up by telephone. In the absence from the city
of a head of department, his duties devolve upon an



assistant secretary or other officer designated by
law, or by simple order, and this acting-head repre-
sents the department at the Presidential councils.
Each officer, on Cabinet days, goes to the White
House carrying under his arm a large leather port-
folio containing official papers that he may wish to
submit to the President; and the phrase, "a
Cabinet portfolio," has come into vogue as synony-
mous with a Secretaryship.
The President presides, seated at the head of
the long table, facing north; on his right are
seated the Secretary of State, the Secretary of
War, and Postmaster-General; on his left are the
Secretary of the Treasury, the Secretary of the
Navy, and the Attorney-General; and opposite to
him, at the foot of the table, is the chair of the
Secretary of the Interior. The private secretary
occupies a seat at a small desk facing the southern
window and near the President. This arrange-
ment is not in accordance with the order of prece-
dence observed by Congress in establishing the
Presidential succession. If the Attorney-General
and Secretary of the Navy should change seats,
bringing the former fourth and the latter sixth,-
the rank alternating across the table,-the order
would be strictly correct.
The sessions of the Cabinet are informal affairs.
No persons except those named are permitted to
enter the room during the councils, and no official
record of the proceedings is kept. The business
done or discussed covers all leading subjects be-
longing to the various branches of administration
on which the President may desire information or
advice,- department reports concerning special
matters of importance, appointments to office, and
questions of general administrative policy. The
conference is perfectly free and easy, officers of
different departments expressing opinions on affairs
not directly relating to their own; and in discuss-
ing some doubtful step it may happen that the
matter in doubt will be influenced and settled by
the views of some officer whose department is least
interested in the question at stake -as if a ques-
tion of foreign policy, broached by the Secretary
of State, should be determined by the arguments
of the Secretary of the Interior. It is a delicate
matter for the head of one department to criticise
the ordinary affairs of another; and his advice
would scarcely be tendered unless directly invited
by the President. There have been jealousies and
rivalries around the Cabinet table as well as outside
the White House; and matters of etiquette as well
as matters of State have provoked official fallings-
out. The secrecy of the proceedings has shielded
many wrangles from the public.

The Cabinet, as a body, is unknown to the Con-
stitution and the laws. It is the growth of custom.
There is no obligation on the part of the President
to hold these councils, nor is he bound to pay the
slightest attention to any advice offered by his con-
fidential advisers; and Presidents, with wills of
their own, have occasionally acted in direct oppo-
sition to Cabinet advice.
A striking illustration of this fact is afforded by
the case of the Emancipation Proclamation-the
great historic war-measure before referred to, and
the most important proclamation that ever came
from the hand of a President. Various versions
have been given of what occurred in the cabinet-
room, and of the scene at the final signing of the
paper. In a recent debate in the House of Repre-
sentatives, it was intimated that at the last moment
Lincoln's courage almost failed, and a large paint-
ing hanging in the Capitol, representing the scene
and showing the President with arrested pen about
to attach his name, was referred to as evidence of
a wavering mind.
An excellent authority gives a different account.
The advisability of issuing the Proclamation was
fully discussed at various meetings of the Cabinet;
and leading advisers of the President, with grave
arguments and warnings, urged him against the
act. Lincoln patiently heard them to the end -
and the subject was put aside. He gave no hint
as to what course he would pursue. One day,
months afterward, the members of the Cabinet
were summoned to the White House. When all
had arrived the President addressed them. He
pointed to a paper-a draft of the Proclamation,
prepared by him. He told them that he had re-
solved to issue it; that he did not wish and would
not permit debate; that his mind could not be
altered; his only purpose in calling them together
being to submit the paper to their inspection for
any suggestions they might have to offer in the
way of mere verbal changes or "matters of form."
With these brief, impressive words, the document
was laid before his ministers of state, and then
boldly spread before the world !
When pressed by imperative duties, such as the
preparation of his Annual Message (upon which
he usually begins about the middle of Novem-
ber), it sometimes becomes necessary for the Presi-
dent to shut himself away from the crowd and
refuse to be disturbed even by officials, except
those reporting on urgent department affairs. But,
generally speaking, his day is given up to hearing
what others have to say. Hand-shaking tourists,
autograph-hunting boys, office-seekers, politi-
cians, Congressmen with personal and partisan

* President Jackson is said to have been guided more by the advice of a few personal friends than by the opinions of his official
Cabinet; the term Kitchen Cabinet," bestowed upon that circle of Presidential favorites, has been similarly used in connec-
tion with other Administrations.



advice or requests,, and public officials,-these
and other people keep him busy, and scarcely
allow him a moment for reflection during ordi-
nary business hours.
Some Presidents have not allowed affairs of
State to worry them to any burdensome extent
or to interfere with their recreations or repose;
others have deliberately assumed vexatious details
that might as well be left to subordinate, officers
and clerks. They all have been accustomed to
yield more or less time to the different classes of
callers whom it has not been deemed courtesy or

The daily method ordinarily observed by President Cleveland is
as follows: He goes to his office at 9 o'clock, and looks over his
mail (as reduced through the sifting process of the private secretary)
until 9:30; receives Cabinet officers until ro, members of Congress
until 12, other callers from 12 to I: 30, and for a few minutes every

policy to avoid; but after all these people have
come and gone, and after many of them have
retired to rest, a painstaking and hard-working
President begins the serious labors of the day.
For, after the evening has well advanced, he
retires to his library, and there, alone, with appli-
cations and requests, with legislative measures
and department reports, submitted to him for
action, he examines the merits of each question,
writing his messages to Congress and his executive
orders, or studying and shaping administrative
policy, far into the night.*

other day receives visiting tourists in the East Room. After lunch-
eon, he attends to matters brought to his attention during the fore-
noon, and works until 5, when he goes out for a drive; he dines
at 7 (the "established hour" for Presidential family dinners), and
afterward goes to his study and works until midnight.

.14 0

a: 1;: ..' TtZ 1* l '-- N rh, *





AT the breakfast table one morning, Colonel
Brown, while reading his newspaper, came upon:
an item which caused him to turn to his young son
and exclaim: "Halloa, Marryati what do you
think of this?"
Marryat Farragut, the heir-apparent of the
Brown family, thus questioned, could only ask:
" Think of what, father? "
Colonel Brown adjusted his glasses and read the
following paragraph:

"The Hon. Sylvanus Coddle, member of Congress from this,
district, announces, that the cadetship at the United States Naval
Academy, for which the Secretary of the Navy has asked him to
name a candidate, will be filled by a competitive examination. All
boys, between the ages of fourteen and eighteen, who are residents
of the district, and can furnish certificates of good character, -are
eligible. The examination will be conducted in the Circuit Court
room, by the following committee: Judge Oyer, Dr. Scalpel, and
Professor Parallelogram. Candidates will report at to A. M.,
Tuesday, the i5th inst."

"Well, would you like to try?" inquired the
colonel, as he laid aside the paper and looked at
his son, who had become much interested during
the reading. "You have always talked about
going to sea."

"Of course I would," replied Marryat, casting
an eager side-glance at his mother, who looked
uneasy at the mere suggestion.
If Colonel Brown had a weakness, it was enthu-
siasm for the military,"- by which he meant the
army and navy. A distant relative of the Brown
family served under Perry in the battle on Lake
Erie. The colonel himself was a veteran of the
Civil War. He named his only son after the cele-
brated writer of naval romances, and added the
"Farragut" in deference to his hobby and patri-
otic feeling. Evidently the boy's destiny was now
to be fulfilled. After a family consultation, in
which the colonel gently overruled all his wife's
objections, Marryat received the parental permis-
sion to enter the contest. Dr. Scalpel, after an
examination, pronounced eight of the boys phys-
ically sound; Judge Oyer dozed over the creden-
tials of the eight applicants, and looked very
wise, while young Professor Parallelogram, the
principal of the High School, plied them with
questions in Arithmetic, Algebra, Geography,
Grammar, and the history of the United States.
The result was not long in doubt. Marryat came


out an easy victor. He was one of those quick,
active, intelligent boys who impress their elders fa-
vorably. Next day Marryat was announced as the
successful candidate, and received, the congratula-
tions of his many friends, including the Hon. Syl-
vanus Coddle. Ten days later, the Brown house-


l Oi l1


hold was thrown into a state of great excitement
by the arrival of a large envelope, postmarked
" Washington," and stamped "Navy Department,-
Official Business." It contained a letter authoriz-
ing Marryat to present himself to the Superin-
tendent of the United States Naval Academy, on
the first of September, at the examination for
"You will have to leave here the day after to-
morrow," said the colonel, unable to hide his
disappointment. The time is so short that I
can't arrange my business affairs so as to permit
me to accompany you to Annapolis. But you can
look out for yourself, my son."
After hurried preparations and leave-takings
Marryat started on his journey alone. It proved
uneventful. The hopeful candidate arrived at his
destination without having missed his trains, and
without having lost his pocket-book-accidents
not uncommon to inexperienced travelers.
Annapolis, once the capital of the United
States, is content with that historical distinction.
The town is sleepy, slow, and old-fashioned, living
only in the memories of its eventful past. Nar-

row streets; brick walks that have been worn into
hollows; low, rambling, weather-beaten houses
with musty green blinds that seem to be always
closed; rickety- wharves where vessels no longer
moor-these are the heirlooms of the old Colonial
days. The bustle and confusion of a thriving
town are entirely wanting; but everywhere one
finds relics of real historic interest. The old
State House, built of bricks brought from Eng-
land, raises its dingy wooden dome above the
surrounding house-tops, with only the tall spire of
St. Ann's to keep it company. The Continental
Congress met in this same State House, and the
room in which George Washington resigned his
office as commander-in-chief of the army is still
shown to visitors. There is also an old hotel which
received the father of his country as an occasional
guest. What need of modern improvements when
a town possesses such landmarks!
But when the small army of candidates for the
Naval Academy makes its annual invasion, the
town takes a new lease of life. Marryat was so
busy making acquaintances among the new arriv-
als, who swarmed in the hotels and boarding-
houses, that he thought little of the decayed grand-
eur of Annapolis. A fellow-feeling exists among
the boys who thus come together from every
State in the Union. The small office of the hotel
became a general assembly room, where the boys,
their parents, and their friends met together and
discussed the situation. A tall, awkward farmer-
boy from the West talked loudly with Marryat
about their prospects, while a dark-eyed, reserved
Southerner now and then put in a quiet word. A
shy, rosy-cheeked New England boy, who wore
knickerbockers and never left his father's side,
listened attentively, but, when spoken to, blushed
deeply and answered in monosyllables. Candi-
dates-from the same State became friends at once.
"What State are you from?" was a question
which Marryat was repeatedly called upon to
On the night of his arrival, Marryat was sub-
jected to his first "running." Hazing is now
almost unknown at Annapolis, Congress having
made it a court-martial offense, punishable by
dismissal. Hazing plebes has given place to a
mild form of annoyance known as running," by
which the candidates are made to feel their great
social and mental inferiority, as judged from the
cadets' standpoint. Here is a synopsis of a little
farce in which Marryat took a principal part:
Scene--Aroom in the hotel. Half a dozen candi-
dates discovered, busy over their books. A loud
knock on the door is heard. Enter two very small
cadets, in blue uniforms bright with brass buttons.
Candidates all rise and anxiously await develop-


ments. One of the cadets says, loftily, "Good
afternoon, young gentlemen."
Candidates reply in chorus, "Good afternoon."
Small cadet (sternly to Marryat). "What's your
Marryat (nervously). "Brown."
Small Cadet (severely). Brown what?"
Marryat (at a guess). Marryat Brown."
Small Cadet (scowling). Marryat Brown
what? "
One of the candidates has evidently been a party
to some previous interview, for he whispers some-
thing to Marryat, who replies with more confidence,
"Brown, sir."
Small Cadet. "Ah!- that 's much better.
And how do you spell it, Mr. Brown?"
Marryat. B-r-o-w-n, sir."
Small Cadet. "Try it again, Mr. Brown."
Marryat (after a second prompting by the know-

translated, means that Marryat is sure to fail at
the examination and be rejected.)
Thus the nonsense goes on. Other candidates are
called in and made to cut droll capers. Reciting
children's rhymes, singing songs, playing circus,
imitating animals, and a hundred other absurdi-
ties are gone through with. The cadets never
smile. They move among the others like superior
beings, demanding homage which is freely given.
The admiring candidates, abashed at finding them-
selves so green, long for the time when they too
can swagger and exact the deferential "sir," and
fill their conversation with nautical phrases. But
even "running" is now considered as another
form of hazing, and is fast taking its place among
the lost arts.
The new-comers found a notice posted in the
hotel office, informing candidates that the exami-
nation would be held on the following day. In


ing candidate). "B, sir; r, sir; o, sir; w, sir; n,
sir; Brown, sir."
Small Cadet. "You spell well. Ever bone
any math?" (In English: "Have you ever
studied mathematics ? ")
Marryat (hesitating). Ye-ye-yes, sir."
Small Cadet (with lightning-like rapidity). If
a herring and a half cost a cent and a half, what '11
half a herring cost ? Quick! (Marryat ponders.)
" Oh, you '11 bilge !" (Which latter remark, being
VOL. XVI.- 19.

the meantime Marryat, accompanied by some of
his new acquaintances, set out to explore the
unknown lands that lay beyond the walls.
The Naval Academy grounds extend along the
banks of the Severn river, where it flows into the
Chesapeake Bay. The Severn forms the northern
boundary, Annapolis harbor the eastern, while on
the land side two high brick walls, running at
right angles to each other, separate the fifty acres
of government land from the town of Annapolis.


As they passed the sentries at the gate, Marryat
looked in wonder, and delight at the garden spot
in which he suddenly found himself. The change
from the musty town was refreshing. The grand
natural beauties of West Point were wanting (Mar-
ryat had seen West Point), but everything that
man's hand could do had been done to make the
park-like inclosure pleasing to the eye. Green

I. i


; 1


lawns, shady avenues, grassy terraces, winding
walks and drives, groves of gnarled oaks and rows
of shapely maples -these met the view on every
side. Besides, everything showed the presence
of a thriving colony.
Along the outer wall for nearly its whole length
were rows of substantial-looking brick houses, the
quarters for the officers and their families. On the
left of the main avenue they saw the cadets' quarters,
an immense building with gray facade and brown-
stone cappings, girdled with a wide veranda and
surmounted by a clock tower. They visited the
armory, the hospital, the laundry, the bakery, the
natatorium, and the physical and chemical labora-
tories. Along the Severn side, and separated from
it by terraces and lawns, were many places of
interest; the observatory, the steam-engineering
building with its foundry and machine-shops, a
photographer's gallery, the seamanship hall filled
with hundreds of models, the ordnance building

whose ceiling and walls were:covered with battle-
flags that told of many an historical sea-fight, and
still farther on a long row of crumbling halls and
houses known as the old quarters." Marryat
learned, upon inquiry, that these "old quarters'"
formerly had been the barracks of Fort Severn,
and an octagonal "i..i;i.,: that had been raised
over the old parapets was pointed- out to him.
This was now used as a gymnasium.
A solid sea-wall skirted the river and harbor
front, and jutting out from the angle was a crooked
wharf leading past the boat-houses to the frigate
"Santee." Moored :alongside was the practice
steamer, "Wyoming, and not far distant the
gunnery steamer, Standisl," flashed back the
sunlight from her polished brass-work. Further
out in the stream the monitor Passaic" and
the sailing-ship Constellation" rode at anchor.
A dozen steam-launches bobbed up and down at
their moorings, as though eager to start away.
Marryat and his companions could stand and ad-
mire the fleet only from a distance; but in imagina-
tion they were running up the rigging and swing-
ing on the lofty spars. Reluctantly they turned
away and looked back through the many parks,
drill-grounds, and quadrangles. They saw rows
of captured cannon, an ugly-looking monitor,
ships' figure-heads utilized as statues, a curious.
Japanese bell,, and monuments which commemo-
rated the glorious deeds of heroes. Then they sat
on a rustic bench to rest, and listened to the band
until the martial strains of "Hail Columbia" and
the hauling down of the colors warned them that
it was growinglate. Tired as they were when they
reached the hotel, Marryat and his friends did not
go to bed that night until they had thoroughly
discussed their respective chances of donning the
navy blue."
Work began in earnest next day. Marryat's
credentials having been presented to the superin-
tendent, he reported at the armory for examina-
tion. Four days were taken up by the mental
examination, five hours each day, the alternate
days being devoted to re-examining those who
failed in the first trials. Marryat's competitive ex-
amination had prepared him in a measure for the
work, but he found this ordeal much more diffi-
cult. Out of eighty-four 'applicants, forty were
found to be mentally qualified.. Marryat was
among the lucky number.. The successful candi-
dates were then examined physically by the doctors,
and all except two passed. It was with the air of a
conquering hero that Marryat hastened to the tele-
graph.office and sent a message to his father
announcing his success.
In due time -Marryat received an answer -a
money order for two hundred dollars. The regu-



lations of the Naval Academy required a deposit
of this amount with the paymaster, to purchase
the necessary outfit of clothing, books, and other
authorized articles. He was then required to sign
an agreement to serve in the navy for eight years
(including his time at the Naval Academy), unless
sooner discharged. A village notary with due
solemnity administered the oath. These formali-
ties over, Marryat was no longer Master Brown,
dependent upon his father for bed and board, but
Naval Cadet Brown, drawing a salary of five
hundred dollars a year.
During September, the upper classmen were on
furlough, and the plebess" were quartered on the
"Santee," the old frigate that had looked so fornid-
able to Marryat, and with it he soon became
familiar. The greatest inconvenience was sleeping
in a hammock, and Marryat for some time'could
not become reconciled to the loss of his "'four-
poster." However, there was little time for regret.
Squad drill began at once, three hours of each
day being given to converting the awkward boys
into soldierly cadets; or,
as an old sailor put it, to
"getting the hay-seed
out of their hair."
Marryat's happiness
was not complete until,
after many delays for fit-
ting and altering, the uni-
forms were served out.
They were (.- I'l., I very
neat. The full-dress. suit
was of dark-blue cloth,
the jacket, a brass-but-
toned, double-breasted
"round-about," having a
standing collar trimmed
with gold lace and em-
broidered with two gold
anchors. The undress
suit consisted of a navy-
blue blouse trimmed
with lustrous black braid,
and trousers of the same
material. The blue cap,
worn with each suit, was
set off by a gold cord
and an embroidered an-
chor. The plain canvas-
working-suits were not so attractive. An over-
coat for winter, and white duck trousers for
summer completed the outfit, with all of which
it is hardly necessary to say that Marryat was
very much pleased.
With October came the beginning of the new
term, and Marryat's impressions at that time were

set forth in a letter to his father, from which we
give a few extracts: :
"I am .now- comfortably settled in my quar-
ters," he wrote, "and ready to begin hard
study. My room-mate is Fred- Daily, who is 'also
,from .Wisconsin. We became friends from the
time that: we discovered: we were from the same
State, and when we were given the privilege of
choosing our own room-mates we determined to
pull together.
"Last Saturday was a busy day. All hands
returned from leave, and the work of organization
began. The cadets are divided into four divisions.
One division is quartered at the old buildings, and
three in the new building. Daily and I are in the
first division, which occupies the first floor... We
are under the eyes of the cadet-officers of the divis-
ion,- the stripers,' as they.are called,- who room
on the same floor with us and are responsible for
order. In addition, an upper-classman is detailed
each day to keep a still closer watch over us. All
this makes the discipline very strict.

"We are very well provided for by the com-
missary. I can not complain of the food; it is
plain, but wholesome. The mess-hall reminds me
of the dining-room at a large hotel, but an ordinary
landlord would be driven wild by three hundred
boys all talking at the same time. Yet at the tap of
the bell you could hear a pin drop, until the order


' rise' causes each chair to shoot back with a part-
ing rattle, and we march out in strict military
fashion. An upper-classman is always on hand
to spot you if you unbend.
This system of spotting lies at the bottom of
all the discipline. A record of all offenses is kept,
and demerits are given, in a big or little dose,


according to the gravity of the offense. Less than
eight demerits for any one month puts you in the
first conduct-grade and entitles you to certain
privileges. From that to the fourth, or lowest,
grade is a steady descent, and when you get
twenty demerits you have sunk as low as possible."
Colonel Brown was very much pleased to see
that Marryat seemed to find his new life congenial.
Marryat having now become a full-fledged cadet,
we need no longer regard him as a special charge,
but can turn our attention. to naval cadets in
Outside of the technical studies, the course of
instruction at the Naval Academy is comprehended
in the one word, Math." "Math" is the cadets'
abbreviation for mathematics, the rock upon which
many an aspirant for naval honors is wrecked. Of
course there is instruction in otherbranches mod-
ern languages, English studies, natural sciences,
etc.-but a cadet soon realizes that the great
stepping-stone is mathematics. When a graduate
looks back upon what he has passed through, his
most vivid recollections are of this hydra-headed
" Math "; of the algebra and geometry that wor-
ried him as a "plebe," and of the applied me-
chanics that took away half the pleasure of his

senior year. What a struggle it was to weed out
all youthful imagination from the mind, and to
plant there only those ideas that could be expressed
in mathematical formulae! And yet Math's"
importance is not overrated, for it is the ground-
work of many of the professional studies. Naval
Architecture, which teaches the cadets how to
design and build a ship; Navigation, which teaches
them how to guide this ship across the trackless
ocean; Ordnance, which teaches them the methods
of constructing and using the great guns; Steam
Engineering, which teaches them the many appli-
cations of that great motive power -all require a
thorough knowledge of mathematics.
While the theoretical part of the education may
prove irksome to those who are filled with a spirit
of adventure,-who might have succeeded better
in the days of the old navy, when there was wider
scope for such temperaments,- these will find the
practical instructions more to their liking. Here
they can satisfy their longing to hang by their
heels on a royal-yard, or to put a pistol shot through
a wooden soldier at twenty -paces. These drills
are based on the general principle that before a
cadet can become an officer he must be thoroughly
familiar with all the duties of those who will be
under his command. The only way to attain this
familiarity is by actually performing these duties
in every detail.
SThe drills afloat, in which there is quite a large
fleet engaged, are particularly novel and interest-
ing. Every Saturday the cadets embark on the
" Wyoming," a ship-rigged steamer, and make a
cruise in the bay. They do all the work. Down in
the fire-room some of them are heaving coal into
the roaring furnaces, others are in the engine-
room looking out for all the machinery. On deck,
youthful sailors are running up and down the rig-
ging, ready, at the call of the boatswain's pipe, to
handle the light spars or heavy sails. In a good
working breeze the engines are stopped and the
upper-classmen are given an opportunity of hand-
ling the ship under sail-tacking, wearing, and
other evolutions being carried out under their
orders. At other times, a target is moored at some
distance and the cadets are exercised in firing the
broadside and pivot guns. But the "V, ,..ii'-
" smooth-bore" guns are out of date; so the stanch
little steamer, Standish," has been fitted out with
two comparatively modern rifled guns, and is. sent
out for practice every afternoon. Moreover, since
iron and steel ships have replaced wooden vessels,
the iron-clad monitor "Passaic," whose turret still
shows traces of the battering that she received at
Charleston during the rebellion, has been added to
the fleet, and also cruises in the Chesapeake, crawl-
ing along like an immense turtle and making the



earth tremble with the roar of her fifteen-inch
guns. Again, while the larger vessels are quietly
riding at anchor, the "mosquito fleet," the steam
launches and pulling boats, come out into the
stream, and dart hither and thither in obedience to
signals; now in line, then in column, the cadets
directing the helms, running the engines, or man-
ning the oars. One launch, from the bow of which
a long spar protrudes, cruises by herself, and
there is some doubt as to what she is trying to do;
but when the end of the spar drops and the water
is violently uplifted in a seething mass of spray
and foam, every one knows that a torpedo has
been exploded. The cutters have more peaceful
missions, as they glide along under the steady
clicking of the oars, or rise and fall with each
puff of wind that fills their flowing sails.
When springtime comes, the drills on shore
are unusually attractive. What a pretty sight the
battalion of infantry makes, as the long line of
blue uniforms, white leggins, and flashing mus-
kets passes by,- and can anything be more exciting
than the grand charge of the light artillery,
when the.platoons rush down the hill, wheel about,
fire a broadside, and dismount and disperse before
the smoke has cleared away? At the ranges, one

ll I hi r i t
-- -- ,


can see groups banging away with muskets and
revolvers at the battered targets, or turning the
cranks of Gatling and Hotchkiss guns which pour
forth a shower of bullets; while down by the sea-
wall a thundering mortar hurls its screeching

shells toward the sky and drops them far out in the
bay. In the machine shops one class is busy at
the lathes, turning out working models of marine
engines; or hard at work with hammers and rivet-
ing tools, putting patches on an old boiler that,
owing to the large number of these additions, has
little of the original shell left. The rigging loft is


,i i / I I '


cing, broadswords, gymnastics, and dancing take


occupied by the plebes," who are there initiated
into the mysteries of knotting, splicing, and other
"knacks'" of the seaman's craft. Boxing, fen-
cing, broadswords, gymnastics, and dancing take
place in the armory and gymnasium.
Due attention is also given to the physical devel-
opment of the cadets. In athletic sports, boating,
of course, comes first; but base-ball, foot-ball,
lawn-tennis, and other field sports of the "land-
lubbers" are not despised. On Thanksgiving Day
a field tournament is held, an amusing feature of
which is chasing the greased pig. The latter
ought to be considered as a purely naval pastime,
when it is remembered that salt pork is so regu-
lar a ration in the sailor's mess afloat. The tour-
naments in the gymnasium, which generally take
place on the anniversary of the battle of New
Orleans, are fine exhibitions of muscular strength,
and the contestants show that they are as much at
home on the flying rings as on the flying jib-boom.
The hops are the chief amusement on Saturday
nights. The gymnasium is decorated with flags


and bunting, the music is entrancing, brass but-
tons shine everywhere, and the "sisters, cousins,
and aunts," with true Pinaforean devotion, flock
to the scene of gayety. At the "stag," the cadets
dance among themselves, and the most awkward
youths pluck up enough courage to appear
on such occasions, in the vain hope that they
may overcome natural timidity and bud forth, in
due time, as society men. The great "stag"
event is the annual masquerade, when the fun is
Four years of these studies, drills, and amuse-
ments make up the naval cadet's life at Annapolis.
The only break is the annual summer cruise and
the September furlough. The practice ships sail
with the classes on board, in June, and after a long
stay at sea put into Portsmouth, N. H., to give the
cadets a run on shore, and to lay in fresh provisions
forthe return passage. One class remains atAnnap-

ships of the navy, where their training is contin-
ued. The full course thus extends through six
This long course of preparation has had its
natural results. The day of the midshipmite is
passed, and his mantle has not fallen on the naval
cadet. A boy can not enter the Naval Academy
until he is fourteen, and at that age Farragut and
Lord Nelson were knocking about on board ship,
picking up what technical education they could in
the rough school of experience. With the advance
of science in naval warfare, the forcing process
of education has changed the free-lance of the
forecastle, who had no ideas beyond making a
"long splice" or brandishing a cutlass, into a
mathematical prodigy, with a weakness for "tan-
gential strains" and "curves of pressure." Con-
gress'has been tinkering with the subject of naval
education for a great many years. Its last enact-


olis during the summer, and is kept busy at
practical exercises, studies being suspended. But
even when the four years have slipped by, naval
cadets are not yet freed from the trammels of
school, for the law requires that they shall then
perform two years' sea-service in the cruising

meant was to abolish midshipmen altogether and to
distribute the fresh material on a new plan. "Here-
after," said the law-makers, there shall be no
appointments of cadet-midshipmen at the Naval
Academy; but in lieu thereof all the undergradu-
ates shall be called naval cadets, and from those




who successfully complete the six years' course
appointments shall be made to fill vacancies in the
lower grades of the line and engineer corps of the
navy and of the marine corps. These appoint-
ments shall be made in the order of merit, as
.determined by the Academic Board of the Naval
Academy. At least ten appointments must be
made each year. Those who do not receive ap-
pointments shall be given a certificate of gradu-
ation and honorable discharge, and one year's
pay ($1ooo)." This is the law as it now stands.
It will be seen that, after all, our young friend
Marryat Brown, of whom we took leave some time
ago, is not sure of a place on the navy-list. Should
he, however, graduate with distinction, after six
years of hard study, there will be three positions
open to him the- lower grade of the line, and
engineer corps, and of the marine corps.": Some-
times, as a special reward, the cadet who graduates
at the head of his class is sent to the Royal Navy
College at Greenwich, England, for a two years'
course preparatory to receiving an appointment as
naval architect. The lowest grade of the line is
that of ensign; the highest that of admiral. In
the staff corps the lowest grade is that of assistant-
engineer, and the highest that of chief engineer.
The grades in the marine corps are similar to
those in the regular army. The pay, while at sea,
of an ensign is $1200 a year; of an assistant-en-
gineer, $1700; and of a, second-lieutenant in the
marine corps, $1400.
Here, then, is an opportunity for Marryat to
step into a comfortable life-position, without the

struggle that most college graduates have to un-
dergo before they are able to practice their profes-
sions with profit. He is self-supporting from the
first, and can throw all his energy into the work
before him. Whether he will be successful or
not rests with himself alone, but it will be well for
him to bear in mind that the laggards are sum-


marily dismissed. Let us hope he will show due
appreciation of his country's generosity, and that
if it be his fortune to be called upon to battle for
her he will serve her faithfully and well.

, _;.w r''
,3W &





'^ ';; i i' 11 ,',
I- 111 1 .ell **i i 1; -11, 1 I I 1
Jii l '! '

WELL, boys and girls, here is a picture for you.
What is it? I did not know at first. I thought it
was a picture some artist had painted, which had
been photographed. But it is more remarkable
than such a picture would be. I think it one of
the most wonderful things I saw in Florida.
In that warm land, where ice is so desirable for
cooling food and drink, it is not naturally formed,
and so must be made. I visited an ice-factory yes-
terday. The process of ice-making is simple and

interesting. It depends upon the principle that gas
in expanding, like liquids in evaporating, draws
heat from neighboring bodies. First, a great basin
of brick-work and metal is built. This is filled
with brine. A frame-work just above the basin
supports a large number of metal tanks, which
reach down into and are surrounded on all sides by
the brine. At this factory I think there were one
hundred of these tanks. Each is shaped like a
brick, and is perhaps one foot wide, two feet long,
and four feet deep. When in position they are
like bricks set up on end with a little space be-
tween each one and its neighbors. Wooden covers
fit over the tops. Of course, brine surrounds them
all, and a coil of iron tubes passes everywhere
through this brine and around the tanks, on every
side, and below. The tanks are filled with per-
fectly pure water. The coils of tubes are filled
with condensed ammonia gas. This gas expands
rapidly, and while expanding draws heat from the
brine. The cold salt-water surrounding the tanks,
in turn draws heat from the water within, until
a solid brick-shaped block of clear ice is formed
by the freezing of the water in each tank. The
ammonia gas is collected after use, condensed
under pressure by an engine, cooled and may
then be used again.
I saw the process of lifting one of the tanks. They
seized it with a hoisting-machine, raised it from the
brine, lowered it carefully into warm water, to loosen
the cake of ice from the sides of the tank, lifted it
andslid out a great four-hundred-pound cake of ice,
so clear and transparent that one could read small
print through a foot of it.
They have twenty tons of ice forming here, all
the time. They lift a tank every thirty minutes,
take out the ice, refill the tank with water and
replace it. The freezing takes forty-eight hours.
The tank they have just emptied will be filled soon,
and a new block of ice will be taken from it on the
day after to-morrow."
Now, it seems that this freezing takes place so
gently that a spray of roses may be put into a tank
of water and frozen into the mass of ice without
stirring a petal from its place. There it lies im-


bedded, in all its beauty of form and color a in ice reminds me of the old mammoth and the
marvellous thing, I think. The ice-makers like to woolly rhinosceros in the Siberian ice-blocks.
perform this experiment, as it shows the clearness You have read of them in ST. NICHOLAS? They
of their ice; and pride is taken in freezing pieces of were specimens that had been kept for hundreds

unusual beauty and transparency.
A delicate spray of flowers, a
cluster of ripe fruit, or a brilliant-
.colored fish are favorite subjects.
Exhibitions of such freezing are oc-
casionally made at fairs, and a par-
ticularly beautiful or interesting
piece makes a very attractive gift
for a birthday or for Christmas.
What a pretty way to preserve ob-
jects I would like a collection of
Florida specimens so preserved.
No dried-out herbarium specimens;
no faded and distorted alcoholic pre-
parations; no unnatural taxider-
mist mounts, but everything in its
natural color, its perfect outline, its liv
Here, a clear little block with a chamel
larger one with a coiled rattlesnake; tl
alligator, a cluster of grape-fruit or oran
of flowers or a series of forest-leaves.
such a collection would not last a single
Nature, herself, sometimes makes su
tions, but neither often nor everywhere

---- ----.-------------- --------------
--- -- ---------- ------------

--------- -i------ l----------I---

llI II F I- i -

ing beauty, of years in that cold climate. So perfectly pre-
eon; here, a served were they, that the flesh, the hair, the skin,
lere a young the eyeballs, were not decayed.
ges, a spray Perhaps such a collection of Florida specimens
But, alas! might be kept in Siberia, in some cold corner of
e week. that desolate land, but here the rose in ice gives
ich prepara- us but a transitory delight and then is gone
e. My rose forever.



IN a fresh little, feathery, fluffy white coat,
An egotist Snow-flake from heaven did float;

And he sighed to his fellows,- a similar
" Seems to me there 's a sameness in falling so

" I am tired of this tingle and chill; I desire "
(They shuddered to hear him) a room with a

" A tiger-skin rug and a Japanese screen,
And some chocolate to drink, and a nice maga-
zine !"

He had sunk past the roof, with its chimneys
like hats,
Of the Warwickshire-Walsingham-Warburton

A ninth-story window was open one puff
Of the wind, as he reached it, was impulse

He alighted within with a rapturous thrill,
But he very soon after began to feel ill.

Soon his liquid remains like a tear-drop were
On the well-printed page of the nice magazine;

And a caller, observing, remarked in sad tones,
" How affecting the stories of Jane Johnson Jones "


her shadowed frr in divers pictures by

A sturdy little DonKey,
Of .1 Jt-reJsm ed in sobe .r-
Once tooK- it in his5 ionI-e,1red head
', T hiate i I.,unt t ru L.'iy".
1, i
o. a liti c e,
-He z,..- th- st-h.V>e door,
[-r,_- H_';t a- 1i-' he n-\,E*" r,-..uld
,ram-_ ne kict there n-- more.

.I I I I

-: .-J .. .


way aationkey ga oped
-.nd ran and rvan and 1ran
-A ran eand r an .nd ran and ran
A d Ran ,and RAn and RAN!
':1 .-- --



h h" *

n i

~ yLX .I6i -;~ ca' :

*:Iehind him ran Cl

9A Ti (roomn and Coachimori (oQ
MW- Farmer --nct K FGirtr's m"1
1osee w-hal they cooidl; tA-.

,some carried whi ps to whip4hin,
Some, oat8 to coax ,hin-L ,car -
Som called 'Come iieze yoc" 1261I~h beast!"
-And Somne Coyne ,Barnev, dea-r



Bu not no awhit cared iBarney
Fr cross or coaxing word ;
6 And clatter, clatter, cldaer- still,
His little hoofs were heard .

A lnd all across K}a meadow,
Anid up and der the hiII,
-And _thou I Km woodS and cown M1~ dale
e aloped. vAk, vwll.


/ --I

.- .~./ I,"i

"8 j ,j"iii

:, "


~~~----; '~


AnLTd into every Iiayweiah
AN-id through td! Swamp-and mirc
$tilIl .Barney ran aiid -ran`\and rant'
As dP fied never tire r

,H-ig chasers all $topped. 'rUY'
Tb en m-ieelk as' awi- lurnWi
Did -Barney $ta,.d a.,f To i-C t
"Come catch -rTn I iEre I am *

Buit when one oP ffic-4-ii 4 Fj.rked
Then. Barney stwsi-('J tLoo
10 AS i(' t1e chase hat. jul tI~rnL
"vay he Swi~?k C f)



-* --^


'Mut there&$ an end, to all thinAS,
Anid so, (tu .dupicd elP)
1B When no one e0se C-oulcd capkiure him
Ths daclnk(ey cauht himnPsel1

Fo-r V 5,' IMMig ,in tW barnyard,
He didl not calculate
What congeiences would 1'efall,
-And bt the nn

Itt cjg kk- y LM4J~ So-9eder,

0, Bai iiev riery-l t ~in that y
c'lc Iu ouId catch !

;-- -a, ,
26 1 41

~7 --", E~ q



.'he room roared t." e. I .,
]he Others Pniled their roadess

,But Barney., -. -u g

Had mchieV in him- sti It
S lea. him up t hill

rhat 10 woulP -yet h ve r
,,,- .-.--- ,' .,-

SbTe Children danced wid stoo plea sureS
Or lauhedvirh a ther rn

B',t Barney, naughty f.rn..ey, '-"- ".':

'. For "when t.' iauhir- Coixch-"-an tried" ,- "-"' .
.- lead. him up t hilll

6' S0 brciced -, himelF and 4ood st kstin ]
,.- -, -. -: -- / .. ..
-';t i ;i4P ,,i ,- ,

I' = 'J,


J-,iu't mi~hty -wc tY-w coo hmnr
Y~dp~iledt Vqh suih a -will
/iB--ly OT wal$ fiernv drag* edJt
Barney bb'& ---

Jilast rouguyt 13'"7 -

"Tif toa4hman iq 50 Strong
mig'bht as :l\ beood'jutt -now
A xid qo -ke wcralkec along.~

.L~ld -n, It-ohea ff Aabe
,ialdhi"; MBall,
I~ *ie $0 mneeW a .eetgt

-I; t n. ttn -~c

Ili- s Brne kry
if X, cP ose u we c axvce-.

_119 r

VOL. XVI.--20.



I [Copyright, 1888, by John H. Jewett. All rights reserved.
W- \ ROM the top of the hill behind Runwild Terrace,
i where the Bunny family lived, there was a charm-
ing view of all the country for miles around.
I', Bunnyboy and Browny had often taken their little
sisters,'Pinkeyes and Cuddledown, to the very high-
liIIIt I l C .' est point, where they could look over the tops of the
,[l' fl,' '"'" houses and trees on every side, and see more pretty
Sl -' "-' hills and valleys and glistening rivers and ponds than
i.. |iey could count in a whole day.
'. ay off in the distance, farther than they had ever been
.", '. r lives, they could see where the blue sky seemed to
li :..r- do, n to meet the ground, and they used to wonder who
". i.cd o. r there, so near the golden sunsets.
As Bunnyboy grew older, he began to boast about what he knew,
and what he had seen, or done, and sometimes about things he only made believe
he knew, and had never done or seen at all.
He may have fancied others would think he was very wise if he talked "big," for he had not
then learned how silly boasting sounds, or why those who are really wise are always modest in speaking
of what they know or can do.
Another thing Bunnyboy did not know, was that boasting leads to lying, and telling lies is sure, some
day, to end in trouble and shame.
Bunnyboy soon found out about these things, in a way which made him remember the lesson as
long as he lived.

--- ,_.: -

7-- -N-9-~-~----
'- -- : -- --. I
"- -' _0 -
,_ .... , ... : :.: ..,,7

,',& -'7It,.i" ;. ," .. .. ..- ".., _." "',-- g-:zr


One pleasant afternoon in the early summer, all
the Bunny children had climbed the hill and were
watching a lovely sunset, when Cuddledown asked
him how many miles it was to sundown.
Bunnyboy said it was not as far as it looked, and
that he had walked farther than that one day when
he went to the circus with Cousin Jack.
Cuddledown said she would like to look over the
edge, where the sky came down, and see what was
on the other side, where the sun stayed at night.
Then Bunnyboy very boastfully said he would
take her there some day, and show her the beauti-
ful place where the fields all shone like gold, and
the rivers like silver, and all the rest was just like
a rainbow place, all the time.
Little Cuddledown believed everything Bunny-
boy said, because he was older; and though he for-
got all about his boasting before they went home,
she remembered it and often thought about it after-
One day, when the other bunnies were away, she
asked her mother whether she might go out to
see the rainbow place where the sun went down.
Mother Bunny thought she meant only to climb
the hill behind the house, and told her she might
Off started Cuddledown, thinking, in her own
brave little way, she could go to the edge of the
world and get back before tea-time, because Bun-
nyboy had been farther than that, and had said it
was not as far as it seemed to be.
In a little while the others came home, and the
mother, hearing them at play on the lawn, supposed
Cuddledown was with them until an hour or two
had passed and they came in to tea without her.
When she asked for Cuddledown and was told
they had not seen her, Bunnyboy was sent to the
hill to bring her home, but soon returned saying
she was not there.
Then the family were alarmed, and all went out
to look for her in the neighborhood, but every-
where they were told the same story, "No one had
seen Cuddledown that afternoon."
When evening grew dark, and they could not
find her, they began to fear she had lost her way
and was wandering about the fields or woods
alone in the darkness, or that perhaps she had
fallen into some stream and been drowned.
The kind neighbors came out with lanterns to
help them search for her, while Cousin Jack did
the best thing he could do, by climbing the hill
and building a bright fire on the top, that she
might see the light and come that way, if she was
anywhere near the village.
All the long night they searched near and far,
and when morning came they had found no trace
of the lost Cuddledown.

A sadder family or a more anxious party of
friends never saw the sun rise to help them, and
without stopping, except to take a hasty breakfast,
they kept on looking for her in every place where
a little Bunny-child might be lost.
Some went tramping through the woods, shout-
ing her name and looking behind the fallen trees,
and in the ditches, while others went up and down
the brooks and rivers, and along the shores of the
ponds, to see whether they could find any tiny
footprints along the edges, or possibly her little
hat floating on the water.
All that day and the next they searched and
searched, until they were nearly worn out with
grief and disappointment, and then at last they
gave up, and almost every one thought the dear
little Cuddledown had fallen into the river and had
been carried away to the ocean, and that they
should never see her any more.
Several days later, when Mother Bunny had re-
peated to the Deacon what Cuddledown had said
to her before going out, he asked what she could
have meant by the "rainbow place where the sun
went down."
Then Bunnyboy remembered what he had boast-
ingly told her, the
\ day they watched
S the sunset together,
i and was so over-
come with the grief
.I, 1 | I, and shame that he
.. /, burst out crying
'l .. and told his father
I ', all about it.

1 A -

Ii'~ Si

Cousin Jack at
once said, This
explains a part of
the mystery, for
now we can guess
which way little
Cuddledown went,

and we must begin the search again, going west-
ward as far as she could walk that afternoon."
That very day another searching party started
out, and Cousin Jack, who was lame and could not
walk so fast as the others over the rough fields,
tried to make up for it by doing more thinking.
Taking a knapsack, to hold a blanket and food
enough for a few days, he started off on his crutches,
telling the almost broken-hearted mother, as he
said good-bye, not to give up, for something in
his heart told him that their dear lost Cuddle-
down would yet be found.
While the others were searching the fields he
took the road leading west until he came to a shal-
low stream which crossed the road, about three
miles from home.



There was no bridge, because the stream could
be easily forded by grown folks, but Cousin Jack
thought a tired little Bunny-girl would not have
dared to wade through the water, and might have
stopped there to rest. Then he began to look

I -


c- --

very carefully along the roadside for any signs of
her having been there.
Near the edge of the stream he saw a large round
stone, and by its side something glistening in the
sun. He picked it up and found, to his great joy,
it was a bright new penny with a hole in it, and
remembered that he had given Cuddledown one
just like it, on the day she went away.
He felt sure she had been sitting on the stone,
and looking closer he found a number of strange-
looking footprints in the soft earth, larger than
any he had ever before seen in that part of the
The tracks led to the water, and wading across,
he found the same footprints on the other shore,
all pointing to the west.
He at once decided to follow them as far as he
could, and, taking the road, he traveled on for sev-
eral miles, guided by the marks of the strange feet
where the ground was soft.
When night came he had reached a place where
the road divided into two narrow paths, and all
signs of the footprints were lost.
He was very tired and almost discouraged, and
was glad to wrap his blanket around him and lie
down to rest until morning, before deciding which
of the two ways to take.
Before he went to sleep he remembered how
Cuddledown used to say a little evening prayer
her mother had taught her, and he began to re-
peat it very ..fil. to himself:
"Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray Thee, Lord, to safely keep;
And when the morning comes again,
Please help me to be good. Amen!"

When he came to the last line, he thought a
minute, and then, instead of saying itjust as she did,
he changed it the next time to this:
"And when the morning comes again,
Help me to find our child. Amen "

Then he felt better, but could not go to sleep for
thinking about the two paths, and at last he got
up, and looking around him, saw, far away in the
darkness, the glimmer of many lights.
He knew there must be a settlement there, and
that one of the paths must lead that way.
He noticed carefully which one it was, and then
lay down and slept peacefully.
In the morning he awoke refreshed, and more
hopeful than ever of finding Cuddledown, and all
day long he kept cheerfully on the way, stopping
only to eat a lunch from his knapsack, or to take a
drink of water from a spring on the roadside.
The distance was longer than it had seemed to
him the night before, and when evening came he
was glad to see the lights shining not very far off.
About nine o'clock the lights began to go out, one
by one, and when he reached the place the houses
were all dark and the streets deserted.
The only living creature he met was a great
surly fellow who spoke to him gruffly. The creat-
ure had a short club in his hand, and wore a star on
his breast, and his face
was smooth and white,
unlike any Cousin
Jack had seen among
the friends and neigh-
bors at home.
Not being able to
make him understand

Jack hurried on, hop- I
ing to find some one \.
who could talk with
him, and give him
shelter for the night. ,


Suddenly, while groping his way through anar-
row street, he heard a low. .1 .Ill, .i .,ii and stop-
ping to listen, he caught *iioi.. .I .r.-''I. thI: words:
And when the morning comes again,
Please take me to my home. Amen !"
Springing forward to the place from which the
sound came, he called -.0fr,l. "Cuddledown!


and taken her out, and his heart was so
full of thankfulness at having found her
alive, that he sat down upon the ground and
clasped her close in his arms, while the
trembling bunny nestled her face on his
shoulder and cried for joy.
Presently she raised her head and whis-
pered, Oh Cousin Jack, please let us go
away from this place just as fast as we can, or
the strange creatures here will find you and
shut us both up in wooden cages."
Cousin Jack thought any place was better
and safer than this, where a helpless little
Bunny-child was kept shut up alone in the
cold and dark, and he told her not to be
afraid, for they would start at once for
Taking his crutches, and telling her to
keep a tight hold upon his coat, they
hurried away, and without meeting any one,
were soon on the open road.

Cuddledown where are you ?" Then out of the
darkness came a quick, glad cry. "0 Cousin
Jack I is it you? Please take me out of this
terrible prison."
The voice came from a large square box in the
rear of the house, and behind some strong bars,
nailed across the open side of the box, he found

'' "
r "* 1 1..'" I '

: ; ', A I ,

beast in a cage.
In less than a minute he had torn away the bars

Cousin Jack was anxious to get away as far as
p..:- ib.'. before stopping to rest, and Cuddledown
was so glad to get out and be with him once more
that she trudged along bravely for nearly two hours.
Then they stopped to rest near a grove of hem-
locks, where Cousin Jack cut off some branches
to make a kind of bed, and said they would rest
there until morning.
Taking her in his arms again, he wrapped the
blanket around both, and they lay down to sleep,
with only the darkened sky and the waving
branches of the trees above them.
Just before Cuddledown went to sleep she whis-
pered to Cousin Jack, "Did God send you to find
me, and show you the way ? and he answered,
" I hope so, for I am sure he loves little children,
and is sorry for every one who is in trouble."
They were up before sunrise, and after making


a breakfast from the food left in the knapsack,
they set out again for home.
Cousin Jack hoped they could get there before
bedtime, for now that he knew the way and need
not stop to look for footprints, they could return
much faster than he had come.
He could not carry her very long, for he had to
use both hands to manage his crutches, and this
troubled him, for he was afraid she would be worn
out with walking before their journey was over.
Cuddledown was a brave little bunny, and kept
saying she was not very tired, and did not mind
the sun and dust.
On the way she
S- told him all about
how the strange
big creatures had
found her resting
b/ y the shallow
Stream, where she
had dropped the
.. penny, and what
happened to her
when they carried
her off to the set-
i There they had
-"." ,put her in the
wooden prison,
I as she called it,
S where she had
Seen kept, for
S 1 -- A more than a week,
Sas a plaything for
'. their children.
S She could not
understand what
They said, and
their queer, pale,
and smooth white
faces frightened her as they stared at her through
the bars.
She said they gave her the strangest things to
eat, and only a little loose straw for a bed, and the
great clumsy children used to take her up and
carry her about by the ears. Sometimes they
were so rough and squeezed her so hard she
thought she should die with the pain.
Cousin Jack said he had heard of something like
this before, but could hardly believe any one could
be so cruel as to take other living creatures, who
had done them no wrong, away from their homes
and friends, and shut them up in pens or cages,
just for the pleasure of looking at them, or play-
ing with the poor helpless victims.
He told her he was glad the bunnies had been
taught to love their own homes and friends and

freedom, as the most precious things in the world,
and were .too gentle and kind-hearted to wish to
rob others of all that made life sweet to them.
Cuddledown said she hoped she should never see
any living creature shut up in a pen as she had
been. Then Cousin Jack told her not to think any
more about it, for she would soon be safe in her
own happy home again, where they would all Ieve
her more than ever.
At noon they stopped to rest once more, near a
brook, when Cousin Jack bathed her tired feet,
and let her take a nap for an hour.
All the afternoon they kept on the way, and at
sundown came to the stream without a bridge, and
knew they were only a few miles from home.
Cousin Jack waded through the water with Cud-
dledown clinging to his back on the knapsack, and
though they were very tired the thoughts of home
made the rest of the way seem short.
As they climbed the Terrace a bright light was
shining in the window, and they could see the
family gathered around the table, looking very
quiet and sad.
This was all changed in a twinkling as Cousin
Jack stepped into the room, leaving Cuddledown
outside for a minute, while he told them the good
news gently. The first thing he said was, Cheer
up! Cuddledown is found !" and before he could
answer their eager questions, Cuddledown bounded
into the room and was safe in her mother's arms
once more, but too happy to speak.
They were all nearly wild with joy, and they al-
most smothered her with hugs and kisses, until
Cousin Jack reminded the family that they had
come to stay, and when a pair of hungry tramps
had walked so many miles, over a dusty road,
since sunrise, one of the first things on the pro-
gramme ought to be a warm bath and something
good to eat.
Then Mother Bunny stopped repeating over and
over again, 0 my poor precious darling dried
her eyes, and began to bustle about, making things
very lively in that family, until both had been
made as comfortable as possible and were ready to
tell all about their strange journey.
When Cuddledown told the story of her going
to find the rainbow place," and said it was ever
so much farther off than she had thought it was,
Bunnyboy went over to her side and told her how
sorry he was he had told her what was not true,
that day on the hill, and promised he would never,
never boast about himself again, nor try to .deceive
any one, even in fun.
Then Cousin Jack told his part of the story, and
when he had finished, they all thought it was very
strange that he happened to take the right one of
the two paths, and find the right place in the dark.



'Pinkeyes said that perhaps a guardian angel
had led him all the way, but Deacon Bunny said he
had a great deal of faith in every-day angels, with
brave, willing, and loving hearts, even if they had
but one leg and a pair of crutches, instead of wings.
"Well, well," said Cousin Jack, "we don't
really know very much about guardian angels, or
how they work; but my notion is this : If I had not
been kept awake by thinking about Cuddledown's
'Now I lay me,' I might not have seen the lights
which led me to the settlement, or known which
of the two paths to take.

"And if Cuddledown had not been saying her
prayer, like a good child, just as I was passing by
in the dark, I might never have found the missing
one at all.
Now it seems to me," said Cousin Jack, that
the good mother who taught Cuddledown her little
prayer, had something to do with my finding her
child, and until we know more about these myster-
ies I think we ought to follow her teaching and
example; and for one, I am going to write Mother
Bunny's name at the head of the list of the Angels
in this family."



Ho, for a short month and a merry one, my
"t- .--.:-',-- -.

hearers! Think of February's crisp cool days

and long cozy evenings, its toboggan-slides and its
fields of shining ice! Then there 's St. Valen-

the other welcome days that this short month
crowds into its allotted eight and twenty. Truly
it deserves to have an extra day once in four years.
Bear it in mind, my hearers, and set the alarm in
your memories, for 1892.
As this is a snow month and the flowers are all
tucked away, warm and comfortable and quite out
of hearing, there could n't be a better time for me
to tell you, confidentially, the story of

ONCE there was a modest sunflower who, though
she had been much admired, hung her head shyly
and longed to hide herself in the shadows of the
It is so conspicuous here by the porch," she
sighed to herself, "and everybody stares at me
so! "
Don't you like it? whispered a bold little
violet near by. I do."
The sunflower, naturally shocked at this remark,
made no reply, but bent lower on her stem, as if
striving in some way to atote for her companion's
Yes," continued the bold violet, I like it. I
learn through the children's comments that I 'm
not only sweet, but I 'm lovely, and above all, I 'm
modest. All thiisis delightful, and I 'm thankful
that I can make myself so agreeable."
Then the bold violet turned its face to the light,
squared its pretty shoulders, and swayed in the
Soon two children came out of the cottage and
stood a moment near the porch. Then the eldest

child, with a great effort, severed the humble stin-
flower from its stem and cast it away, saying crossly,
as she tugged at the flower, "There! It's high
time for you to come off. Why don't you look up
at the sun, as you ought to do !" But both the
children knelt and praised the violet for remaining
fresh so long. "You're just as pretty as you can
be, you little sweetness said the youngest child,
softly caressing it.
I know it," thought the bold violet. Is n't
it nice And she did n't hangher head one bit,
but just swayed there in the breeze, squaring her
pretty shoulders, and holding her face to the light
till the sun went down.
MORAL.- It must not be expected that every
flower shall live up to its reputation.

DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: I want to tell you about a very
interesting thing that happened in our yard. Some yellow-birds
built their nest in a lilac bush under our bedroom window. We put
some cotton out of the window. In a little while they came and got
it. They built their nest; but a few days after they finished it we
noticed a great commotion among them, and they seemed to be
building another nest; then all was quiet. After they had hatched
their eggs and the young birds had flown away, Mamma cut off the
branch on which the nest was, and, on examining it, she found that
there were two nests, one right on top of the other, so made that they
looked like one long nest. There was n't anything in the top nest,
so Mamma lifted it off from the other nest, and in the under nest
were four yellow-bird's eggs and one cow-bird's egg. The cow-bird
does not build a nest of its own, but goes around and lays its eggs
in other birds' nests, just as the English cuckoo does. I think that
those yellow-birds were very smart to know that there was an egg
there that they did not lay, and so manage as not to hatch it.
I have taken you for three years, and this is the first time that I
have ever written to you. I am ten years old. I have a donkey,
a dog, a cat, and a cock. My big brother says that I have the same
animals as were the Street Musicians of Bremen, in Grimm's fairy
tales. From your loving reader, N. L. W.

DEAR JACK: Here is a short verse in which five
words having the same pronunciation are used con-
secutively, in a form which "makes sense."
Draw up the table, set by it a chair;
Get pen and ink, and paper white and fair;
Let all stand near; 't will be a pretty sight,
I 'm sure, to see the right Wright write "rite"
right. A. T. D.
DEAR JACK: In the November number of ST. NICHOLAS, Nellie
E. H- writes about a grape-vine in Santa Barbara which is forty-
six inches around and which produced forty tons of grapes last year.
But that one died and was cut down, so that the largest one in the
world is in Carpinteria. There- are two branches that started from
one root and have twined themselves together, each one measuring
about thirteen inches in diameter. These branches grow up for
about seven feet and then branch out, and now cover a -- II. -* "''
by one hundred and ten feet.. It is thought that the vine is fifty-four
years old, and last year it produced four tons of grapes. We have
also in Carpinteria the largest geranium bush in the world, which
measures one hundred and thirty-two feet in circumference; and a
walnut orchard of one hundred and sixty acres.
Your interested reader, NETTIE W.

ONE day a great and good philanthropist, who
could not let even a single day go by without doing
some kind deed, or helping some one less fortunate
than himself, was asked admiringly if he could say


how much good he had done in the world. His
truthful answer was: I-why, I have never done
any good to speak of! "


Syou ever noticed
that when a grass-
hopper jumps he
does not do so
by placing his
jumping-feet, the
hind ones, on or
against that from
which the jump
is made?
The feet of
his jumping-legs
are turned back-
ward, and when
he prepares to
go, these legs
are closed like
a jack-knife and
drawn up at a

slight angle, and the
feet so held that they
touch nothing-his.
weight resting on the '
four small front legs -
and the lower part of
his body. Momentum -
is then given by a
blow struck simultan- -
eously by the jump-
ing-feet;' his big
jumping-legs springing out to almost a straight
line, and remaining so while he is in the air.
Please tell your boys and girls to watch them
next summer. A. L. BRENON.

YOUR old friend, Mr. John R. Coryell, sends to
my pulpit this bit of information, to which I invite
your attention :
THERE was once a gentleman in Italy who con-
ceived the idea that the silk spun by the spider
could be made of use just as is the silk of the silk-
worm. Of course he was laughed at by his friends,
but he succeeded, nevertheless; for, in course of
time, a pair of as nice silk stockings as ever you
saw was the result.
He was naturally very. much elated with this
success, and forthwith began to collect as many
spiders as he could find accommodations for. But
he had no sooner set his collection" at work
than he discovered that spiders would rather fight
than spin. The ladies, particularly, were very bad,
and made nothing of eating two or three of the
gentlemen every day, and of then retiring to sleep
off the effects of the meal.
That Italian gentleman gave up his idea of run-



DON'T forget the birds. Those who linger north
are very glad, you may depend, to find crumbs
and tidbits upon the snow in bitter weather.


1E-PULPIT. 3 3

ning an opposition to the silk-worm with the
spider; but often since that day others have tried
the same experiment, either for pleasure or with a
notion of turning it to profit. Gloves and stock-
ings made of spider silk are not uncommon, and
occasionally there is a whole gown made of it.
SIt is not so very long ago that the Empress of
Brazil sent such a spider-silk gown to Queen
But the management of spiders seems to be
better understood in South America than else-
where; for in Peru, from ancient times, spider
silk has been put to a great many uses, though it
has never been made in sufficient quantities to
become an article of commerce.
In the South Kensington Museum of London
there is an odd bit of spiders' work, which Miss
Gordon-Cumming found in the Fiji Islands. It is
in the shape of a fool's cap, and it was made just
as it is by the spiders, with no other help from
man than a frame of light twigs of wood to weave it
upon. It is said that when the natives wish such
a cap, they merely set up the frame in some secluded
corner, and leave it there until the accommodat-
ing spiders have woven over it again and again.
The cap is as light as the same bulk of feathers,
but is frequently of
the thickness of heavy
/ felt. Just what use
the Fijians make of
these singular caps
r Miss Gordon-Cum-
ming does not say.
It may be that they
Share worn as night-

*\ \



N Paris, near the junc- upon another plan. Madame Avril gently but
tion of the boulevard firmly placed the kittens in an old apricot-basket
Montparnasse and the and tied two copies of Le Petit Journal securely
boulevard Raspail, is a over the top, at the same time cutting various
small restaurant, known tiny holes in the newspapers, in order that they
in the "Latin Quarter" might have fresh air to breathe. Even this un-
as the Caf edes Artistes. avoidable cruelty nearly broke Madame Avril's
Monsieur and Madame heart; for all the while she was employed in pre-
Avril are the joint pro- paring the basket, the little kittens were making
prietors of this estab- the most plaintive, appealing noises, and were
lishment. Monsieur going rapidly round and round the floor, at times
Avril is by no means a endeavoring to conciliate even the legs of the chairs
big man, but his wife is and tables, by rubbing softly against them.
almost a giantess; and Monsieur Avril, who perceived that his wife was
he is very proud of being in a melting mood, quickly took up the basket,
the husband of so ma-
jestic a wonait-ti.
These worth ,
people have no children, but they
own a fine black cat which goes by
the name of Seal-skin.
One morning, at an unreasonable-
hour, just after Etienne, the garon,
had taken down the shutters, and i.
while he was in the act of sprinkling
the floor, Seal-skin strolled leisurely .'
into the cafe accompanied by two
very young gray kittens. These
kittens were graceful and engaging,
and had evidently arrived with the
intention of making the Cafe' des
Artistes their home. Although
both Monsieur and Madame Avril
were kind people, they decided that 1;. -
this would not be a convenient ar-,. .lk -
rangement. They therefore offered
the kittens to several of their cus-
tomers, but nobody seemed in the -
least inclined to adopt them." "
At length, Monsieur Avril, who ) D
had less sensibility than his wife,
proposed that the kittens should be POP-S5
drowned; but Madame Avril, who lASTER PETITS-FOURS.
would not have wounded Seal-skin's feelings for carried it down the rue Bre'a, along the rue Vavin,
anything in the world, could not listen to this across the Luxembourg Gardens, and laid it near
atrocious proposal. They finally agreed, however, the foot of Lequesne's beautiful statue of the


"Dancing Faun," right in the middle of a bed of the practical results of the discovery which his
scarlet geraniums. Then he stole away with a sister had made.
guilty air. Not long after, Mademoiselle and If she does," rejoined the little girl breath-
Master Petits-fours, who were out for an after- lessly, "they will always be companions, and then
noon promenade with their bonne, approached the we can call them, if we like, Cup and Saucer!"
statue. These chil-
dren were brother
and sister, and
lived with their
parents on the
fourth etage of a
large apartment-
house in the riue : ;
du Luxembourg,
Master Petits-
fours began to
prance about in
front of the statue
as if he were try-
ing to imitate the 'i
antics in which a ,
real Faun might "'
once have in- .-
Look, my 2'*
boone," he ex- -N
claimed, Mon- ,,
sieur the Statue r. I '
is smiling at me I
and blowing upon 1'Y IIr.
his mirliton "; and ,I:
the boy smiled
back at the Faun. and .
But here Made- I,
moiselle, who had .,ll, III, t
been hovering a- ,11 ., q il,
round the gera-

butterfly, gave a i ,
cry of delight andi 1' I''i
ran up to the ""' i,
bonne, bringing ..
the basket and its .
contents of mew- .'
ing kittens, which Jil '".!if
she displayed with. ..' ,..L r t
great pleasure, "
stroking their
fuzzy little backs
them. in a soft tone and with caressing words. Mamma must have consented, for how else did
"Do you think Mamma will allow us to keep the kittens come to reside with the children and
them ? asked Master Petits-fours with his thumbs their parents in the fourth etage of a large apart-
in his pockets, who, like a man, was thinking of ment-house in the rue dcu Luxembourg?


WE failed to mention in the December number that the picture on SEVERAL good friends of ST. NICHOLAS have expressed a fear that
page 121 of the little girl in Japanese costume, was reproduced from the small type used in the Letter-box department is injurious to
a photograph by Mr. A. J. Treat of San Francisco. Our thanks the eyes of our readers. Upon careful consideration, it has been
are due to Mr. Treat for this courtesy, and our apologies for the decided that, after this month, larger type shall be used for these
omission of the proper credit. pages.


DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: The following isa letter written by my
young boy cousin, only seven years old. He had no help what-
ever, and I think it would interest some of your little readers if they
found it among the letters in ST. NICHOLAS. S. E. B- .

THE Buffalo has a hairy hide.
The bear is cruel, and many a hunter has found his death-bed in
the jaws of them.
The panther will not come up and lick your hand: he 'd rather
bite it; but then I must not leave the lion out. You can not tame him
by kissing him. It is easier to meet him in a cage in the circus than
on his land where he was born.
The elephant is not a weak beast; he can wring a man to death
by one strain of his trunk. You must Remember that he does not go
lightly along like a Giraffe.
The Camel does not mind trotting along on the hottest sands.
Ermines, though small, are pretty; especially in the winter.
The Polar bear is somewhat different from the grizzly; white fur,
of course.
It seems to me there were no horses before Columbus arrived.
Zebras are pretty, but hard to tame.
The Antelope and Gazelle can go as fast through the forest as a
bird can soar in the air.
There is the Reindeer that the Laplanders feed on (and fish), and
the reindeers pull them around as the horses do us.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I 'm one of your little girls, seven years
old. I never was in a school-room, but I read all the stories out
loud to Mamma, and I am trying to write this letter myself, so you
will know how much I love you. Mamma gave you to us, if we
would not ask to go to the circus, and we think the Brownies"
and Two Little Confederates are better than a circus.
Please ask the lady who wrote Sara Crewe" to make her story
longer next time.
My sister Ruby is five years old. She has very heavy brown hair
twofeet long. She is a slimbrunette, and I am afat blonde. Myother
sister, May, is away at school. It is eight miles to our school-house,
but we like California. Last Christmas, Papa put our presents on an
orange-tree, on the lawn, and it was beautiful to look at; and so
warm that day that we needed no wraps, and Mamma told us we
must try and remember it always, for she did not think any other
little girls ever had a Christmas-tree outdoors.
I did not mean to make this letter so long. Good-bye, with love
to all your boys and girls and a kiss to you, from
OPAL S- and Ruuv S--

THE letter which follows explains itself, and we may here express
our thanks to the Secretary of the Children's Christmas Club of
Philadelphia for sending us the report of the club, and say that
we are very glad the article concerning Christmas Clubs (in ST.
NICHOLAS '..- i.: .-. l .... 1887) was the cause of the founding of
the Philadelphia organization:

My DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I take much pleasure in sending you
a report of the Children's Christmas Club of Philadelphia. We

started our club after reading the article in ST. NICHOLAS last De-
cember. Although we did not have such a large number of poor
children at our first dinner as some of the other clubs, we think it a
good beginning, as our club is composed entirely of children. Hop-
ing that a great many more Christmas Clubs will be started this
year, believe me, very truly yours,

The article to which the letter refers gave the story of the found-
ing of the Children's Christmas Club of Washington City. The
Washington Club was organized soon after the original Children's
Christmas Club, of Portland, Me., was formed. The history of this
pioneer club may be found in ST. NICHOLAS for December, 1883.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have never seen a letter from Winnipeg
in the "Letter-box." We have two little dogs; they know a few
tricks. Our favorite stories are "Juan and Juanita," "Jennie's
Boarding-House," "Drill," and "The Brownies," by Palmer Cox.
I am nine years old, and I have a little brother six years old. We
have very cold winters in Winnipeg, and have lots of fun making
snowballs and sliding down toboggan-slides and going out for snow-
shoe tramps. We also buy our ice in big pieces about three feet
thick, which the men can hardly pull off the wagon, that they get
on the river. And we buy our water by the barrel in summer.
Sometimes in the river-water you find little tiny fish. Sometimes the
snow is as deep as yourself, where it has drifted up against the fences.
We go to school morning and afternoon. We have taken you about
two years and enjoy you more than any other magazine we get.
Two years ago we went out to Victoria, B. C., and saw many China-
men. We have been to Toronto about twice.
Your loving readers, ARTHUR and FRANK.

MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Mamma has told me such a funny
thing that happened to her cat when she was a little girl; I must tell
you all about it. It was in Spain,- for Mamma is Spanish, and a
sweeter Spanish MlTamila can not be found in the whole world. But
I must talk about the cat, not about Mamma. It was a pussy,- a nice
black one,-with a littlewhite spot on the top of his nose. He used
to be a great pet, and once an organ-man with a monkey stopped in
the street underneath mamma's window and commenced to play.
Meanwhile the monkey climbed up and stood on the rail of the bal-
cony, while pussy was purring in the sun. At first the cat was very
much frightened and made a mountain of his back, but the monkey
looked so harmless and so good-natured that the mountain came
down, and soon they began to play together. By and by the mon-
key became a little rough, or, at least, the cat thought so, and
scratched him. Then the monkey took the cat's paws and exam-
ined them very carefully to find out how it was done, but the cat
had already drawn in his claws, and the monkey was very much
puzzled. This happened three times, and each time the monkey
became more angry until, at last, out of patience, he took the cat
and threw him off the balcony, and the poor cat fell to the street, and
that was the end of him. Good-bye, ST. NICHOLAs. Give us many
good stories like Little Lord Fauntleroy and "Juan and Juanita."
Your loving reader, ROSITA CERDA --


DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have been your subscriber for two years,
and shall be this year, for I already have the number for Novem-
ber, 1888. I have the bound volumes of Volume XIV., and the first
part of Volume XV. I did not take you when Little Lord Faunt-
leroy was a serial, but the public library here takes you, and has all
your volumes bound, so I read it in one of them.
I went to Boston last September and saw "Little Lord Fauntleroy"
as a play in the Boston Museum, the first time it was acted, and it
was a very interesting play.
I think that you are the best American juvenile magazine pub-
lished. With best wishes for a successful year, I am yours sincerely,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We are two Russian girls, and we write
to tell you how much we enjoy your magazine. We are cousins,
and only one of us takes it, but we both read it through and through,
and, of course, Little Lord Fauntleroy is our favorite story. We
like American books exceedingly, especially Miss Alcott's, and
should so much like to go to America one day,- Americans seem to
be so jolly. We hope you will print our letter in the Letter-box,"
for we think it is the first one you have from any of our compatriots.
Before closing this letter we beg you not to think that in Russia
people are sent to Siberia every day; it really happens rarely; our
Emperor is very good and kind, and we all love and respect him very
Hoping to take your magazine for many a year yet to come, we
remain your antipodes and admiring readers,
SASHA B- and VERA L- .

A FRIEND of ST. NICHOLAS has sent us a little story, which we
print below, of the strange true incidents of a Christmas-day on
the Amazon River in far-away South America:


By M. F. S.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Far up the Amazon River, a little boy and
girl, brother and sister, had planned to have a Christmas-tree. This
was on the day but one before Christmas, a day that proved to be a
very adventurous one. For, to begin with, Mamma, in looking over a
large balai(basket) of unironed clothes, found to her dismay that they
were all eaten. And by what? By nothing less than a colony ofcupim
(white-ants) that, during the night, had come up through the crevices
of the wooden floor. Big garments and little, when held up for
inspection, fell into a shower of snowy pieces, no larger than six-
pences. Even Dolly's best muslin frock had not escaped. Joao, the
Indian boy, was called, a part of the flooring removed, and the
ants' covered walks, leading yards -:. *. l.h i .:1ii..: were satu-
rated with kerosene. Then, after tr.- l.. ., ,:. long, was
found hanging from a palm-thatched out-building, and promptly
killed. But this for the children was no very uncommon event. A
more interesting one happened later when they had a long talk with
a party of half-Indians, who were going up-river by canoe for a
great alligator-hunt. Now, was this not enough of adventure for one
day in the lives of two little children ? But something else was still
to happen; Mamma said, on most days something did happen.
You shall hear. In the garden- the tangled tropical garden of
cocoa, mango, and orange trees -was a tank, in which lay an elec-
tric-eel. The children delighted in stirring this creature up with a
stick; a proceeding often imitated by a big, favorite monkey. Well,
on this day, a scamp of a neighbor's son had fastened an umbrella-
rib to the stick, and slyly given it to the monkey who began his
favorite operation. But with an unlooked-for result! The poor
electrified monkey was thrown back by the shock he received, and
lay as one dead! Later on, trembling with terror, he ran away into
the deep forest beyond, and was never seen again.
But to return to the Christmas-tree. One tree, just right, as the
children said, had been found at a long distance and had been brought
and placed by the oldfierchada (stoop) door. The morning of the
Nativity dawned cloudless and warm. Papa was to prune the tree
into shape, and early, knife in hand, was advancing toward it, when
a cry of dismay from the children met his ear. What was it ?
Mamma heard and hastened toward the spot, followed by the faith-
ful Joao. What did they see? Their tree,-their Christmas-tree,
lying leafless and bare! A few green fragments, of leaves hung
dejectedly from branch and bough, and that was all! All except a
long trail of sawn, jagged leaves, borne along by a host of enterpris-
ing ants, saiba, which during the night had done this deed. They
were more horrid creatures even than cujim, so Mamma said. If
only Santa Claus could have petrified them into brown atoms on the
spot! Why, they had desolated the very rose-trees of the garden.
Much-tried Mamma came to the rescue as usual.

Never mind the tree," she said, "you shall hang up your stock-
ings instead, and help me arrange a pretty table."
"And we 'll have lots of fun," chimed in the already consoled
children. And so they had.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I think that you have never had a letter
from here before, so I will write you one. I am a little girl nine
years old. I live in La Crosse, which is sometimes called the Gate-
way City, because it is through this city that people pass to go to
the North-west. I have takenyour book for a year, and I like it very
much. I wish that all the girls and boys took it. I think it is very
kind of you to publish the letters, so that other children in other
parts of the country read them. I go to Madison most every sum-
mer. Madison is the capital of the State of Wisconsin. There are
many nice buildings in it. Two years ago I went to Great Bend,
Kansas. I had a nice time there. I like the stories, Sara
Crewe; or, What Happened at Miss Minchin's," and Trudel's
Siege" very much. I must close now.
Your fond reader, MINNIk E. S--.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Seeing letters in your November number
of the magazine, from correspondents of seventeen, I have ventured
to send a letter too.
I do not ever remember seeing Beaufort, S. C., represented in your
"Letter-box." It is a very pretty little town on the Beaufort river,
which is, properly, an arm of the sea.
We have a population of between four and five thousand, of which
three-fourths are negroes. As a race, they are very interesting and
amusing. I have some very good friends among the colored people
who, when they come to see us all, almost always bring some gift,
usually something raised by themselves upon their own lots. One
old woman, whom we call Aunt Nancy, lives on one of the islands
near here, and pays her visits on Saturday when she comes to Beau-
fort to do her marketing. Her presents vary with the seasons: in
summer, she brings us eggs and berries; at this time of year, peas
and ground-nuts; her last gift was fine sweet-potatoes. Of course, we
reciprocate, with presents of clothing, sweetmeats, etc. ; but both the
offerings are free-will ones, and we do not feel called upon to give
because the visitor has, nor vice versd. Most of the negroes have
musical voices and are good story-tellers; our washwoman being no
exception to the rule. Her tale of "My Conwersion" is worth
listening to. A great number of the colored people are engaged on
the dredges, and at the phosphate works, of which there are a num-
ber on our island.
I have often been to the Old Fort Grove on picnics. A portion
of the old fort, built in the sixteenth century, still remains; although
the lilies of France are no longer to be traced on its tabby walls. I
enjoy your historic stories and am reading Mr. Alton's Routine of
the Republic," with interest.
Withkind remembrances to all lovers of ST. NICHOLAS,
I remain your reader, EFFIE R-.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a fourteen-year-old American boy
from New York, and a sincere admirer and interested reader of your-
self. I have been living, ever since the r5th of June, on the borders
of the Lake of Lucerne, just opposite the much-renowned Righi.
Our villa is about fifteen minutes' good rowing from the town, but, in
a light boat and rowing standing up, one can do it in less. Nobody
ever seems to remark on this queer way of rowing, though it must
look strange to an American. It is, however, much easier than the
old-fashioned way (though I suppose this way is just as old among
the Swiss), as one can throw the weight of one's body on the oars,
and thus save the muscle. We have already had a fall of snow here,
but it melted right away and was succeeded by rain. This is a terri-
ble place for rain; on an average, I think thatwe must have had
here six rainy days out ofevery ten, this summer. The German patois
spoken by the peasants around Lucerne is terribly difficult to under-
stand and very ugly,--it is so guttural. There is no fishing to
speak of in this lake,--that is, line fishing; with a net you can get
some few fish, but it does n't pay for the trouble unless you have to
earn your living by it. The hunting is even worse than the fishing,
for though there are a few ducks around here, you are not allowed
to shoot them in the marshes they principally frequent; so hunting
does n't pay either. This summer I walked up the Pilatus, which
is about seven thousand feet high, and from which the view is beau-
tiful. On a clear day you have spread out before you the grand
range of mountains called the Bernese Oberland, among which are
the famous Jungfrau, Monck, Eiger, etc., which all seem close at
hand, though they are in reality many miles away. The Pilatus is
about a thousand feet higher than the Righi, and I think this view is
much finer. The Pilatus railway was completed this summer, but
will not be open to the public until next year. It seems almost a
shame to desecrate these grand old mountains with railroads. I have
taken you five years, dear ST. NICHOLAS, and would find it hard to
do without you now.
I remain, your friend and reader, JOHN H. T- .



DEAR ST. NICHOLAS:. During the summer we live at a village on
the European side of the Bosphorus, called Therapia." On the
Asiatic side, opposite us, is a tall mountain, called the Giant's Mount.
I think perhaps it would interest you to know why it goes by this
name. It is said that Joshua sat at the top and washed his feet in
the Bosphorus, which is just at the foot of the mountain. As it is
about ten or twelve hundred feet high, he must have been an im-
mensely tall man. There is a tomb at the top, in which his great-
toe is supposed to be buried, and whenever any of the natives go up
the mountain, they generally go to see the tomb and tie a ribbon,
string, or any little bit of rag they happen to have, to the grave, and
wish. Their wishes so made are supposed to be sure of fulfillment.
I went with a picnic party up there, and all of us went to see the
tomb and wish, just for fun. It was inclosed by a stone wall, and
all over the bushes that surrounded it were tied rags of all shapes,
sizes, and colors, which gave it a very queer appearance. We had
a hard climb before we reached the top, and were rather tired; but
the view was so lovely we did not regret having come. This is all
I know about it, so I will stop. I am,
Your sincere friend,
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have heard many letters read from your
"Letter-box," so I thought I would write one and tell you some of
myadventures I am a little Maltese kitten named "Tabby," but alas !
I am an orphan. My highly esteemed mother died a short time ago,
a victim of misplaced confidence in man's generosity, for she ate
freely of some meat that was left within her reach. It did not agree
with her, as she died in a short time from the effects of the drug that
was sprinkled on it. Before I had time to recover from the shock
caused by her death, my little master became the owner of a little
Scotch terrier who almost torments my life out. I haveno peace with
him. Hark! here he comes. Good-bye. Spt-spz-zz! mee-ow-- !

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We have taken you for ten years, and I
have never yet written to you. I suppose you get letters from all

parts of the globe, but I have never seen one from Denver. I like
the story of the "Two Little Confederates" very much, but the
universal favorite is "Little Lord Fauntleroy." I think my sister
and I will take the dear old ST. NICHOLAS until we are old women.
I am very much interested in the King's Move Puzzle contest,
as I tried for it.

Ever your reader,


DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have been away this summer, and so I
have not had much chance to read you, but when I got home I just
rolled in your lovely stories. I was quite interested in the story,
"A Floating Home," for, while we were at the ocean, we found a
piece of seaweed, and on it were three sea-urchins and five starfish
and a very small green fish.
My sister used to take you in the time of the reports of the Bird
Defender Society, and I .1 T ihink that the "Brownies"
are very funny folk, and i *-..., irIl and Prince Fairyfoot."
I wish you would publish another long fairy story.

We have received pleasant letters from the young friends whose
names follow, and we thank the writers:-- Dick E. Rollins, W. F.
W., Bess S., Edith Parker, M. W. G., Marion Stewart, Margaret
R., Sybil M., Minnie Leavitt, Peachie and Helen, Helen Lovell,
Mary B. Verplanck, Leah Tuttle, Elsie Lorsch, Tillie B. N., E.
Badger, May Somerville, Fannie Basil, Beryl B. Bard, Edith M.
Beyer, Elsia, Elizabeth D., Frances, Maggie C. Clark, H. Stevens,
Bell C., Millie G. P., Bess and Frankie, Stanley A., Robert S.
Park, Edith Dugan, Frances McCahill, Helen Brown, Cordelia C.
Maynard, Villa Johnson, Emma, Dora Sheerin, Frances M., Loie,
Florrie Cox, Muriel Gould, Nannie Hoyt, Helen B., Clara D.
Hinckley, Millie Freund, T. H. Snider, Ralph Welch, William
Sheerin, Marie R., and Elijah H. Owen.


Iiehfr I Iel t ime

litSO ov'it tO/Aih..M.
i t t

I,, L .J I

,, I-

''' '4

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ii .1


To oun PUZZLERS: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the Isth 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 NOVEMBER NUMBER were received3 before November i5th, from May L. Gerrish, Isabel
F. Gerrish and Emily A. Daniell Paul Reese Louise Ingham Adams-" Willoughby."
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE NOVEMBER NUMBER were received, before November 15th, from F. and A. Schmidt, A. J.
Snow, I K. Guthrie, i- M. H.Ware, I -" Locks and Keys," 3 C. P., i -Maude E. Palmer, ii L. D. Bloodgood, Clara 0., 8-
' Alfreata," I Lillian A. Thorpe, io O. Evans and M. Burrows, 5 -" Miss Ouri," 4 -L. P. Coleman, i -" Infantry," ax --Julia and
Eddie, -"'Jennie, Mina, and Isabel," o--Ida C. Thallon, io-"Pandora," 4-" Blithedale," ii-"Jo and I," iz -" Aunt Kate,
Jamie, and Mamma," o Percy, Frank, and Bert, 3 Ward Brothers, 7- HerbertD. Condie, 3- S.and P., 2 -J. S. Gibson, Edna
L. Farr, -" Mohawk Valley," -James R. Sharp, 2-" May and 79," 8-J. Bert Harris, 3- Etta Reilly, 2-Mary W. Stone, 9-
Nllie L. Howes, 8-Ida and Alice, 9-Harry Mattison, Tom, Dick, and Harrie, 8 -Agnes and Oscar Warburg, ii-L. H. F. and
" Mistie," 4- Katie Campbell, I.

ACROSS : A large bird. 2. A Mace-bearer. 3. Provision for
successive relief. 4. To scatter. 5. A kind of settle. Downward:
i. A letter from Maine. 2. A verb. 3. A vehicle. 4. Units. 5.
Small cords. 6. Scarce. 7. However. 8. A pronoun. 9. A letter
from Maine. EUREKA."
THE answer to the accom- -tA -- \
paying rebus is a proverb
referring to t he possible weak-
ness of that which seems strong. If 1.'

EACH of the eleven following
groups of words may be tran-
sposed to form. one word of
eleven letters. When rightly
guessed and placed one below
the other, in the order here
given, the diagonals, from the
upper left-hand corner to the
lower right-hand corner, will .4
spell a word meaning to quib-
ble; and the diagonals, from
the lower left-hand corner to
the upper right-hand corner,
will spell a kind of decoration.
i. Let soap tear. 2. Grant
has cat 3I coal the log. 4.
I vex grand L. 5. Ate
clams in D. 6. Strut Corn Co.
7. Even nice Con. 8. Hi slim cheat. 9. Nabs cruel
pi. to. A Hilt City Co. r. Pica I rented.


5 ..... 6 ...6
3 .. .4

3 ...... ... 4

7 8
FROM x to 2, propriety of conduct; from 2 to 4, pertaining to a
country of North America; from i to 3, traders; from 3 to 4, a flat
iron; from 5 to 6, broiled; from 6 to 8, one who drains; from 5 to
7, brave; from 7 to 8, a tutor; from I to 5, any substance used in the
composition of medicines; from a to 6, to improve; from 4 to 8,
adjacent; from 3 to 7, kind. NELL O. AND KATHERINE K.

IN a word of sixteen letters, meaning a geometrical figure, find
sixteen smaller words (without changing the position of the letters)
answering to the following definitions:

i. A child's term for a parent. 2. A state of equality. 3. A
Turkish coin. 4. Similar. 5. A proper name found in the Bible. 6.
A sea in Asia. 7. The entire sum. 8. An exclamation. 9. To cut
off. o. What printers dislike, it. A spot on cards. 12. A musical
instrument. 13. A small pack-saddle. 14. To perform. 15. A river
of Russia. 16. A preposition.
Reverse the order of the sixteen letters, and find words answering
to the following definitions:
i. A word of denial. 2. To make a slight bow. 3. A knot. 4. A
lyric poem. 5. A mixture of type. 6. A seed. 7. A river of Italy.
8. A measure of length. 9. Another measure of length. so. A
feminine name. si. A household deity. 12. A Scriptural name.
13. A sharp blow.


-I. FIND a body of men commanded by a colonel;
-irtail, and leave orderly government; curtail again,
.id leave administration; curtail and transpose, and
i ake to sully deeply; behead, and leave frost;
reverse, and make a military commander;
l;'..-. -, transpose, and make deep mud; curtail and
reverse, and leave a margin.
2. Find a journal;, transpose, and make a
place where milk is kept; behead, and leave
'"-gay; curtail, and leave a tune; curtail again,
and leave a place "which is
-beside, Beth-aven"; add a
l letter, and make succor;
transpose, and make a femi-
nine name ; add a letter and
-- transpose, and make hostile
incursion; reverse, add a
letter, and make the first
word given.
S3. Find an old game at
cards; curtail, and leave a
Kind of type; again, and leave
to charge with powder; again,
and leave precise; curtail once
more, transpose, and make to
cut off; behead and reverse,
and make what printers make
only accidentally.
4. Find a small cloak worn
by women; curtail, and leave
-to disguise; transpose, and
make intellectual; again, and
make to bewail; behead and
curtail, and leave a word
which occurs frequently in
-. prayer-books; behead and
Curtail again, and leave a
.5- Find places where shelter
may be found; syncopate a
letter, and leave metallic veins; transpose, and make an island on
which a very famous Greek oracle was situated; again, and make
a rich tapestry hanging at the back of an altar; insert a letter, and
make a pannier; remove this letter, and curtail, and leave a portion;
transpose, and make short poems; syncopate and transpose, and
make turf; behead and reverse, and make to execute.
6. Find a certain tree; transpose, and make ran ; again, and
make was inclined; add a letter, and make frightened; transpose,
and make holy; behead and curtail, and make a ..ri, .i -.rI -i.,1.
r *': "


x. To SUMMON. 2. A coward, 3. A military engine. 4. Apre-
tender to superior knowledge. 5. A raptorial bird. 6. Moderates.
7. A name which forms part of the title to one of Dickens's works.
8. Blazes. 9. To cement.
All of the words described contain the same number of letters, and
one of the rows, reading downward, will spell the name of a certain
day in February, which is the subject of the following "pi":

Fi melascand yda eb arif dan gribth,
Enwrit lwil heav hareton glifth;
Fi no maledcans ayd ti eb wresho dan nari,
Tinrew si nego, dan wlil tno coem gania.

PRE ".

A. le
_..._- ..-_-- --i -- I -_--

I c | I. e Lt iJe w ord rieh 9ly guessed 11d1
placed one belo i the otber, in the onrdr in which tly are .
nu rired. the tentrol counim .Ireadin iownu asrd.gt a spell lthe n-
ci.t .-na of ..ll-im, n lyer in ermany, ., .:.

FROM the letters which spell a certain month of the year make
words which may be defined as follows:
I. Withered. a. A prophet. 3. An equal. 4. A vegetable. 5.
A beverage. 6. A masculine name. 7. Most correct. 8. To stop.
9 Cinders. o1. To guide. Ia. A stalk. 12. To measure. x3.
Formerly. 14. Anylimited time. i5. Compact. 16. Saucy. 17.
An insect. 18. Precipitous. 19. Fixed. so. To annoy. 21. To
appear. 22. To be stocked to overflowing. 23. A vegetable growth
larger than a shrub. 24. To encounter. 25. A favorite. 26. A
plague. 27. That which measures. 28. A pool. 29. A clan or

family. 30. A merry frolic. 31. Joined. 32. A pronoun. 33.
Disposition of mind. 34. To notice. 35. Gradation. 36. A cer-
tain style of dry goods. 37. Before.
What is the month, and what are the thirty-seven words formed
from it ? E. R.
INSERT a vowel wherever there is an x in the ten sentences which
follow. When they are complete, select a word of five letters from
each sentence. When these ten words are rightly selected and
placed one below the other, the central row of letters, reading down-
ward, will spell the names of certain missives, very pleasant to

THE light of the nation, in war and inpeace,
My hero he flourished in good old Greece;
And his life-blood to all he unsparingly gave,-
For though wicked, from darkness his country he 'd save.

Tall was he, and slender,-and yet he was fat;
Which sounds rather strange, though 't is true for all that;
And though inwardly weak, as 'most every one knew,
He often went out when a great tempest blew.

Yet when weary mortals retire to bed,
This faithful one watches with hat on his head;
But a coat, if he owns it, he never puts on,
Though already alas! -in consumption far gone.

And thus his gaunt form, ah, it wasted away
As the icicle melts in the sun's brightest ray;
And all that remains of this hero so brave
Are his stick and his snuff-box which last proves his grave.
C. L. M.
i. EQUAL value. 2. Temperate. 3. Pleasing to people in gen-
eral. 4. Insolent. 5. Furnished with a new lining. 6. A bird
who is made the subject of a famous poem. 7. A color. G. P.


AcRoss: i. Steals. 2. To elect. 3. A West Indian tree which
furnishes a light, elastic wood, often used for archery bows. 4. An
exhalation. 5. Otherwise.
DOWNWARD: I. (two letters.) A prefix denoting repetition. 2. (four
letters.) Elliptical. 3. (five letters.) A large pill. 4. (five letters.)
A fixed gaze. 5. (three letters.) One half of a word meaning to fur-
nish with means. 6. (three letters.) The sun. c. B. D.


IN the following six sentences. are concealed six words,--a hint
as to what the word is being -i-en 'n each sentence. The seventh
sentence contains a Roman ir ...... -1 The words andletter, when
rightly selected, may be placed so as to form a half-square; within
the half-square a five-letter diamond may be found, and within the
diamond a three-letter word-square.
i. If ever Eve redeems her character she will be highly esteemed.
2: Olive rode down to the ruins and saw the place where the fire
had eaten away the wood
3. In this relievo we discover a figure of the Indian who made a
solemn promise to be always a good friend to the white men.
4. Adam and Eve denied their faults and were driven from the
first garden.
5. Just before dark the sky and clouds presented a bright color.
6. We have done" all we could to discountenance calling the boy
by his nickname.
7. Did David drive Dick to Dartmouth to deliver a letter?




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