Front Cover
 A talk about reading
 Bare boughs and buds
 The fortunes of Toby Trafford
 Little Lizette
 A great industrial school
 The boy settlers
 What could the farmer do?
 Lady Jane
 Santa Claus and his body-guard...
 The boyhood of Michael Angelo
 A December ditty
 Elfie's visit to cloudland and...
 The story of the golden fleece
 Little Holdfast
 A gentle reminder
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover

Title: St. Nicholas
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00236
 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: VID00236
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: oclc - 01764817
lccn - 04012675
 Related Items
Preceded by: Our young folks
Preceded by: Children's hour (Philadelphia, Penn.)
Preceded by: Little corporal
Preceded by: Schoolday magazine
Preceded by: Wide awake

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
        Front Cover 3
    A talk about reading
        Page 171
        Page 172
        Page 173
    Bare boughs and buds
        Page 174
    The fortunes of Toby Trafford
        Page 175
        Page 176
        Page 177
        Page 178
        Page 179
        Page 180
        Page 181
        Page 182
        Page 183
    Little Lizette
        Page 184
    A great industrial school
        Page 185
        Page 186
        Page 187
        Page 188
        Page 189
        Page 190
        Page 191
        Page 192
        Page 193
        Page 194
        Page 195
    The boy settlers
        Page 196
        Page 197
        Page 198
        Page 199
        Page 200
        Page 201
        Page 202
        Page 203
    What could the farmer do?
        Page 204
        Page 205
        Page 206
        Page 207
    Lady Jane
        Page 208
        Page 209
        Page 210
        Page 211
        Page 212
        Page 213
        Page 214
        Page 215
    Santa Claus and his body-guard (illustration)
        Page 216
    The boyhood of Michael Angelo
        Page 217
        Page 218
    A December ditty
        Page 219
    Elfie's visit to cloudland and the moon
        Page 220
        Page 221
        Page 222
        Page 223
        Page 224
        Page 225
        Page 226
        Page 227
        Page 228
        Page 229
        Page 230
        Page 231
        Page 232
    The story of the golden fleece
        Page 233
        Page 234
        Page 235
        Page 236
        Page 237
        Page 238
    Little Holdfast
        Page 239
        Page 240
        Page 241
        Page 242
        Page 243
    A gentle reminder
        Page 244
    The letter-box
        Page 245
        Page 246
    The riddle-box
        Page 247
        Page 248
        Unnumbered ( 83 )
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text


(SEE PAGE 218.)




JANUARY, 1891.



IF I owned a girl who had no desire to learn
anything, I would swap her for a boy. If the
boy did not desire to learn, I would trade him
off for a violin or a Rookwood vase. You could
get something out of a violin, and you could
put something into the vase. The most useless
of things is that into which you can put nothing,
and from which you can get nothing. The boy
or girl who has no wish to know anything is the
one and becomes the other.
There is a great deal of talk in these days
about reading, how to learn to read, and what
to read. Now, there is nothing mysterious about
reading any more than there is about seeing,
and it is really no more credit to a person to be
able to read than it is to be able to see, or to
hear. The object of reading is exactly the same
as the object of seeing and hearing-to get
information. The notion that a person has
gained an accomplishment when he has learned
to read should be no more a source of pride
than the fact that he can see and hear. It takes
the puppy nine days to open his eyes, and it
takes the infant a much longer time apparently

before he can distinguish one thing from another.
When he can do this, we say he begins to take
notice." A boy may be able to read a long time
before he begins to take notice. The use of see-
ing and hearing and reading is to establish rela-
tions with the world. The puppy does very well
in this respect by the use of his eyes and his ears,
but as he can not learn to read, he never gets as
far as the boy, that is, as the boy who learns how
to turn to account his ability to read. But as
some boys seem to see or to hear little that is
good, they also derive small benefit, and often
great harm, from what they read. A boy can
receive as much injury from bad reading, as he
can from bad conversation. So it appears that
there is no moral quality in the mere ability to
read. Reading only offers a chance of getting
more information, on a greater variety of topics,
than one can get by seeing and hearing.
The most agreeable way of getting informa-
tion is by conversation. If you talk with a well-
informed person, who can express clearly his
ideas on any subject in which you are interested,
you can ask questions, you can have explana-

Copyright, 189o, by THE CENTURY CO. All rights reserved.

No. 3.


tions, you can go over the subject until you
thoroughly understand it, and searching out in
this way, in the mind of another, a thing which
you earnestly desire to know, you are more
likely to remember it, and to profit by it. This is
why a competent teacher is better than any text-
book. Besides, talk inspires both the speaker and
the listener -the one becomes more eager to
know, and the other more eager to communi-
Reading is a substitute for this sort of com-
munication. You can not always meet the per-
son who is familiar with the subject you are
interested in : the man who has made the dis-
coveries you wish to know about, the traveler
who has seen the countries and the people con-
cerning which you have or should have curi-
osity. Therefore you are usually obliged to go
to the books that the scholar and the discoverer
and the traveler have written. It is always only
a means of getting what you want to know. If
you meet one of these persons, and have no
curiosity, and do not give heed to what he says,
and have no capacity to take what he has to
give, you will gain little by the association.
And it is exactly so about reading. It seems,
therefore, that knowledge of words and how
they are put together in language, or ability to
say them like a graphophone, is of little use
unless you know how to read and what to read.
One should read exactly as he would listen to a
talk, or as he would look at an object about
which he is anxious to increase his knowledge.
And as he listens and looks to gratify his curi-
osity, he should read in the same spirit. The
curiosity ought, of course, to be a clean and
wholesome curiosity. It is just as unworthy of
a decent boy to read what is silly or vulgar as it
is to see and hear vulgar things. And it is not
a good plan to read about things- that is, to take
the testimony of others about things that you
can, with a little effort, find out for yourself.
Get as much information as you can first hand,
and use the book not to save labor, but to help
your study of the matter in hand. Half the
juvenile reading, books and stories children's
literature it is called contains nothing that the
intelligent child does not know or can not know
by looking around and listening, and the read-
ing of them not only is a waste of time and does

not stimulate the mind, but it gives a namby-
pamby tone.
You should treat a book as you would a per-
son with whom you are talking for information;
that is, question it, read it over and turn back
and try to get at the meaning; if the book itself
does not answer the questions you raise, go to
some other book, ask a dictionary or encyclope-
dia for an explanation. And if a book treated
in this way does not teach you anything or does
not inspire you, it is of no more service to you
than the conversation of a dull, ignorant person.
I just used the word "inspire." You do not
read all books for facts or for information merely,
but to be inspired, to have your thoughts lifted
up to noble ideas, to have your sympathies
touched, your ambition awakened to do some
worthy or great thing, to become a man or a
woman of character and consideration in the
world. You read the story of a fine action or a
heroic character the death of Socrates, or the
voyage of Columbus, or the sacrifice of Nathan
Hale, or such a poem as "The Lady of the
Lake "-not for information only, but to create
in you a higher ideal of life, and to give you sym-
pathy with your fellows and with noble purposes.
You can not begin too young to have these ideals
and these purposes, and therefore the best liter-
ature in all the world is the best for you to begin
with. And you will find it the most interesting.
Reading, then, is the easiest way of being en-
tertained, and it is the most convenient way of
getting into your mind what you want to know.
I do not think it is very serviceable to make a
list of books for children to read. No two have
exactly the same aptitudes, tastes, or kinds of
curiosity about the world. And one story or bit
of information may excite the interest of a class
in one school, or the children in one family,
which will not take at all with others. The
only thing is to take hold somewhere, and to
begin to use the art of reading to find out
about things as you use your eyes and ears. I
knew a boy, a scrap of a lad, who almost needed
a high chair to bring him up to the general level
of the dining table, who liked to read the ency-
clopedia. He was always hunting round in the
big books of the encyclopedia-books about
his own size-for what he wanted to know.
He dug in it as another boy would dig in the


woods for sassafras root. It appeared that he
was interested in' natural history and natural
phenomena. He asked questions of these
books, exactly as he would ask a living author-
ity, and kept at it till he got answers. He
knew how to read. Soon that boy was an
authority on earthquakes. He liked to have
the conversation at table turn on earthquakes,
for then he seemed to be the tallest person at
the table. I suppose there was no earthquake
anywhere of any importance but that he could
tell where it occurred and what damage it did,
how many houses it buried, and how many peo-
ple it killed, and what shape it left the country it
had shaken. From that he went on to try to dis-
cover what caused these disturbances, and this
led him into other investigations, and at last
into the study of electricity, practical as well
as theoretical. He examined machines and in-
vented machines, and kept on reading, and
presently he was an expert in electricity. He
knew how to put in wires, and signals, and bells,
and to do a number of practical and useful
things, and almost before he was able to enter
the high-school, he had a great deal of work
to do in the city, and three or four men under
him. These men under him had not read as
much about electricity as he had.
An active-minded boy or girl can find out a
great deal about the world we live in by the
habit of attention, by looking round; and he or
she can get much inspiration from the example
of good men and women. But this knowledge
can be added to indefinitely by reading, and
people will read if they have a genuine desire to
know things, and are not, as we say, "too lazy
to live." When I hear a boy say that he does
not know what to read, I wonder if he has no

curiosity. Is there nothing that he wants to
know about? Most children ask questions.
It often happens that the persons they ask
can not answer the questions. Now, it is the
purpose of books to do just this thing which
the particular person asked can not do. And
that is about all there is in reading. Of course
it must be borne in mind that curiosity is of
many kinds: curiosity about facts, about emo-
tions, about what happened long ago, about
what is taking place now, about the people
who lived ages ago, and the people who live
now, about others, and about one's self. So it
happens that one wants to read science, and
poetry, and history, and biography, and ro-
mances, and the daily news.
It is quite impossible to lay down rules for
reading that will suit all children, and generally
difficult to map out a course to be inflexibly
pursued by any one. But nearly every mind is
or can be interested in something, and a very
good plan is to encourage reading concerning
the subject the child shows some curiosity about.
One thing will certainly lead to another, for
nothing is isolated in this world. Try to find
out all you can about one thing, one fact in
history, one person, the habits of one animal,
the truth about one historical character; pur-
sue this, and before you know it you will be a
scholar in many things.
Do not forget that reading is a means to an
end. The indulgence of it is good or bad
according to the end in view. The mind is
benefited by pursuing some definite subject
until it is understood, but it is apt to be im-
paired by idly nibbling now and then, tasting a
thousand things, and swallowing none, in short,
by desultory reading.



"ALAS, alas, how the North wind grieves! "
Said the black-ash tall, "I am losing my

And Well-a-day," sighed the elm-tree old,
"I stand in a rain of my falling gold! "

And Oh," cried the maple overhead,
" On the dark ground rustles my robe of red! "

The birch-tree shook in a yellow shower,
And glimmered more ghostly every hour;

While the silver poplar whispered loud
As its shimmering leaves joined the flying

A sound of mourning filled all the land,
For the trees grew barer on either hand.

But the little buds laughed on the twigs so
That sprang from the branches up and down,

As tucked in safe, and glad, and warm,
Ready to weather the winter storm,

They waited patiently and still
Till the wild, cold wind should have worked
its will,

And blown the sad skies once more clear,
And wakened from slumber the sweet New

If you look, my child, at the tree-tops high,
You 'll see them clustered against the sky,

The little brown buds that rock and swing,
Dreaming all winter of coming spring!

And if when April comes again,
You watch through the veil of her balmy rain,

You '11 see them pushing out leaves like wings,
All crowned with the beauty that patience




(Begtn in the November number.)

THE blaze started close by where Tom had
been reclining, and where he had left his gun-
a little smoldering nest at first that might so
easily have been extinguished. But even
Bertha's attention had been so completely ab-
sorbed by the boys' wrestling, that she was con-
scious of nothing else until a little snake-like,
rustling, fiery head darted up at her.
Even then a dash of water might have suf-
ficed to put it out. If there had only been a
bucket on board !-or even a hat! There were
both, within reach of the rake that Toby turned
to clutch; but before either of them could
be recovered, and used, the whole cargo of
well-dried hay would be overrun by the flames.
They were spreading with frightful rapidity,
fanned by the breeze, and flashing over the loose
edges of the load. Both boys were quite beside
themselves with terror, and deserved neither
much praise nor much blame for what they did
in that awful crisis.
Tom obeyed a natural instinct, and caught his
gun out of the flames, the first thing. Toby saw
in despair the water of the lake all around, yet
nothing to quench the fire with nothing but
his shoes. He caught up one, and began to dip
and dash water with frantic energy; at the same
time calling to Bertha to jump down into the stern.
He thought afterwards he might have quenched
the blaze, if she had heard and heeded him.
After her first wild scream she had not uttered
a word. And all at once she had disappeared.
Bertha! where are you?" he called, in a
voice that was not much more than a hoarse,
inarticulate cry.
He dropped the dripping shoe. He cared
nothing more for the hay, nothing even for the

Where are you? He was regaining his
voice. And now the faint answer came:
"Here! "
Bertha had meant to do just as she was told;
for she felt that everything depended upon her
brother and Toby. But she had not understood
Toby's order. And she too, though perhaps the
most self-possessed of the three, had obeyed in-
stinct rather than reason; and instead of slipping
quickly down into the stern, and so getting past
and behind the fire, while there was yet time,
she had retreated before it, and was now at the
other end of the boat, with the flames between
her and the two boys.
There was no longer any hope of saving any-
thing. Tom, knowing that it was his matches
that had done the mischief, quite lost his head.
What will become of us ? he cried out in an
agony of consternation, throwing first his gun
overboard, then his dog, then jumping over
We are excitable mortals, and few of us can
depend upon keeping cool in a frightful emer-
gency. But a generous person's impulses will
nearly always be right, and it is a consolation
after the event, to remember that one's foremost
thought was not a selfish regard for his own
When Tom went into the water, Toby went
into the fire. At the height of the danger, his
only thought was of Bertha. What he did as he
scrambled after her, through the crawling edge
of the flames, was so little a matter of calculation
that he was no more aware of dragging an oar
after him, than of scorching his clothes and
burning his hands and feet. He had scarcely
passed by, when the whole stack behind him
burst into a pyramid of fire.
He found Bertha clinging to the forward
slope, on the swiftly narrowing verge between
two deaths, the flames before and the water
behind. If she remained where she was, she


would be burned. If she let go, she would fall
into the lake, and the boat would pass over her.
Every child, every girl as well as every boy,
should learn to swim. But this
pleasant and useful ac-
m. :,n:lis-hi;hm [nt BerthS i
S*'" <"lisA~hid neecr been

leaped in after her. And the tower of fire swept
by, casting on them its terrible glare.
"Are you all right ?" he asked, swimming
beside her, and seeing that she had both hands
raped tightly around the oar.
She a .ii ered :'rl L, loo I k; Fright arid'
tile Chill 0 tie >:i' lakC had iak.:i av. a,% ier

... s a,:,luir,:. *" D,'trr-,- tr 1 to k.,_ *ur he, id too t'ir ou.it
"'. She had w.ter; :on!\ .ut far enough to brealhe," he
i : .l, ire said. ,Th V":,3t is; :o n :. You re al

S '. But the sco, !-- andi all that hai\!"
-'i i.-ll- .i B itt:i. Tornm 1 uM did


given herself up for lost, when Toby went
over to her.
Oh,Toby! was all she could gasp out, in
the sudden hope of deliverance his appearance
He pulled her to one side of the bow.
"Hold this oar!" He put the blade into her
arms, which he made her clasp about it. "Hug
it! Don't let go, for your life Slide! slide you
sha'n't drown!"
And keeping hold of the handle, he launched
her and the oar together into the lake, giving
her a hard push away from the boat. Then he

you?" And her excitement broke forth in
shivering sobs.
Tom was within hearing. He had been
swimming aimlessly about, uttering short, mad
yells for help, Bozer swimming and yelping at
his side; a situation that would have been com-
ical under less serious circumstances. At sight
of Toby and Bertha, he struck out toward
"'T was n't my fault!" he whimperingly de-
clared. I don't know how it happened! I 'm
so glad for you, Bertha I thought you were a


He seemed anxious to do something to assist.
"That oar is n't the thing. Here 's aboard."
It was the thwart, which Toby had a faint
recollection of having himself thrown over, that
it might serve some such purpose as this. But
Bertha would not accept it, nor loose her hold
of the oar Toby had put into her grasp.

AND now rescue was at hand. The blazing
hay had been observed by the boys on the
shore, before they heard Tom's cries for help.
Yellow Jacket sprang to his boat, and pushed
it off, taking Lick Stevens into it with him; and
here they came, the yellow shirt with the sus-

drew her into the boat, with only such assist-
ance as Toby could lend.
The village idler was a sort of hero in his
way. A worthless member of industrious soci-
ety, he was just the fellow for an occasion like
this. He was an accomplished diver, who had
already saved two boys from drowning, when
they had the cramps in deep water; and his
only regret now was that Bertha had not sunk
at least once, so that he could have had the
satisfaction of bringing her up from the lake
Toby clung to the side of the boat and
hoisted the dripping girl over the rail; then
he climbed in himself. Tom followed. But Tom
was reluctant to leave the spot. He was mourn-
ing for his gun.

U4. 2, "

e- W.o -Z -


penders crossed on the back conspicuous above
the prow which was rushing high out of water.
It was Yellow Jacket who rowed, and he
rowed manfully. It was Yellow Jacket who
guided the course of the boat, backed water
with powerful arms as it approached Bertha and
Toby, and, dropping his oars, seized hold of her
before Lick Stevens could get a chance, and

I think we can see it, somewhere, as soon
as the water gets still," he said, looking down
into the lake. "And you can fetch it up in no
time," he said to Yellow Jacket. "I '11 give
you five dollars if you will."
Hang your five dollars, and your gun, and
you too! said the hero, disdainfully.
He had probably never earned so much

-~-f----~ C-E~L~511C C --- -- -_

-r -c,




money, at a single job, in his life. But, what-
ever his faults may have been, avarice was not
one of them.
"This girl is going home the first thing!"
and once more he clapped oars in rowlocks.
"This boat "-he was always bragging of his
leaky old skiff, and he could n't forbear even
now-" this boat is worth her weight in Cali-
forny gold! "
Toby begged the privilege of rowing; but
no, Yellow Jacket must have the glory of the
rescue all to himself. Toby, however, had taken
in the oar that floated Bertha; and the other,
adrift with the hats and one of the rakes, he
recovered when those were picked up. There
was another set of rowlocks; and now there
was another pair of pulling oars.
The exercise was not only a relief to Toby's
mind; it was also a good thing for his body,
after the drenching he had had while heated
from his recent exertions. He now became
aware that his hands had suffered from the fire.
But he scarcely minded the pain of pulling the
Bertha sat in the bow, behind Yellow Jacket,
where he had placed her. He would have been
jealous even of Tom's being near her, if he
had n't regarded Tom also as one whose life
he had saved. Lick Stevens was at the stern,
facing Toby.
"How in the name of gumption, boys,"
Lick called out, did you manage to burn up
your load of hay?"
Toby drew a long breath, with his oar stroke,
but made no reply. Tom was hesitating as to
his explanation, which, once made he was
now cool enough to reflect--must be adhered
to afterward.
Did it with your cigarette, did n't ye, Tom ?"
said Lick.
No, I did n't. I did n't light my cigarette
at all," Tom replied, in an agitated voice.
Oh, Tom!" Bertha remonstrated. "You
know you were going to! "
What of that? said Tom. 'T would n't
have been any harm. I know how to light my
cigarette, and take care of the fire. But Toby
pitched into me, and knocked my matches out
of my hand,--or something,-I don't know just
what; and first we knew, the hay was all afire "

"That so, Toby?" Lick asked.
Somehow so," Toby answered. Though in
one sense, not so at all. But he can have it
that way, if he likes. I 'm willing to take my
share of the blame."
He uttered these short, detached sentences
between the strokes of his oars, and refused to
say more. Tom, however, continued to talk, lay-
ing all the blame upon Toby; interrupted only
by occasional remonstrances from Bertha, such
as, Oh, Tom! how can you? "
No use talking! struck in Yellow Jacket.
"I 've got you all safe. And what 's a little
hay ? or an old scow like that ?"
Lick Stevens laughed.
"What do you think was the first thing Bob
Brunswick blurted out when we saw the fire? "
Something about their boat, I suppose," said
"Yes! 'It's our square-toed packet,' says he;
won't Pa be mad!' "
"It was Toby's doing, borrowing that," said
Tom, who should have added that the borrow-
ing had been done with his cordial approval.
Toby was minded to say that; but his heart
sank within him, and he uttered no comment.
In the excitement of saving Bertha he had
cared little for the scow. But he remembered
well that it had been lent to him personally
and that he had accepted the responsibility.
And he now perceived, with miserable forebod-
ings, that the entire burden of blame was to fall
upon his shoulders.
"'T was a magnificent sight, anyway! Lick
Stevens declared, showing how much he had
enjoyed it. If it had only been in the night! "
Yellow Jacket's point of view was different.
"I saved a life in the night once. And I
did n't have a blazing load of hay for a candle,
neither! I jest hadto grope. Dove three times,
clawing about on the bottom like an absent-
minded crab. But there wa' n't nothing very
absent-minded about me! I mos' gener'ly know
what I'm about, when I go saving lives. If I
did n't, the census would be different by a bigger
or two! "
The scow was still floating with its.freight of
fire. But the flames no longer shot up into the
air. The loose outside hay having been con-
sumed, they gradually subsided, and the whole


became a smoldering and smoking heap, with a
pulsing underglow, and little red tongues quiver-
ing here and there through the blackened surface,
and with a fringe of fire around the lower
edges, where the boat had become ignited.
Then Yellow Jacket had to tell how he would
have saved the scow if he had not had more
important business on hand.
I 'd have gone alongside, and with my bailer
I 'd have kep' her sides wet, and finally have


got water enough into her to sink her. She might
'a' got scorched a little about the gills."
"And so might you," said Tom. "You
could n't have stood the heat. It was just
awful before I went overboard!"
What did you throw your gun away for? "
Lick asked.
To save it," said Tom.
You saved it with a vengeance!" said Yellow
Jacket. "You never '11 see it again. I 've had
too much experience as a diver to give three
cents for your chance."
This opinion, from the lips of an expert,
Tom found depressing.
You can get it, without half trying," he said.
Just remember where it went down."
"I would n't take the contract," replied Yel-
low Jacket, exaggerating in advance the difficul-
ties of what he really meant to undertake. It's
muddy bottom out there; and you can't tell

within thirty or forty feet jest where your rifle
sunk. Even if I could find it, I 'd rather bring
a drowneded body to the surface any day. When
I git holt of a drowneded body my fust lookout
allers is that the drowneded body sha'n 't git holt
of me. Then I -"
But we may as well omit the thrilling details.
I '11 sell you my rifle now," said Lick Stevens,
"cheap. And it 's a better gun than yours ever
was. To-day's shooting proves that."


Tom was not consoled by this offer. He
remained silent the rest of the way, rehearsing
in his mind the account he should give of the
accident on reaching home.

THE end of the lane was near, and soon the
boat struck gravel. In a moment Toby was at
the bow, helping Bertha, and asking anxiously
how she was.
I don't mind the drenching a bit," she cried
cheerily, jumping ashore with the support of his
hand. Excitement has kept me warm."
Yet in her clinging garments, and with her
wet, heavy hair hanging down her back, she
looked blue and pale, and very different from the
radiant child he had so lately seen come whist-
ling and dancing down to the shore! She did not


speak a word of blame, neither did she utter
a word of praise or thanks for anything he
had done. He would have been glad to see
her home, notwithstanding his own drenched
clothes, and his bare, blistered feet. But he
dreaded to meet her father; and he felt that
nothing he might say could compete with Tom's
version of the adventure.
Rumors of it had already reached the village.
People were coming down to the shore to learn
more about it, and to see the last of the burning
boat. Toby had started for home, carrying the
oars, which were all that he had saved from the
scow, when, looking back from the beach, along
which he was painfully picking his way, he saw
Mr. Tazwell approach with long strides and
meet Tom and Bertha. Bertha was hidden in
the lane, by the fence; but Mr. Tazwell towered
above it, bending eagerly forward, while Tom
gesticulated and talked loud. Toby could hear
Tom's voice, without understanding his words;
and see him point now at the smoking scow,
now at Yellow Jacket and Lick Stevens, and
more than once at the wretched culprit, Toby
For if not a culprit in his own eyes, he
knew that he was, or would be, in the eyes of
others. There was wrath and condemnation
even in the stoop of Mr. Tazwell's shoulders,
when he turned to look at Toby over the fence,
as Tom pointed.
"I shall get all the blame," he said to him-
self, as he tramped on, avoiding as well as he
could the neighbors who came down, across
their back lots, to meet and question him.
"Well! You are a pretty looking object, I
must say was Mildred's sisterly greeting, the
moment he entered the house. "Where have
you been ? she exclaimed, looking at him from
head to feet.
I 've been in the lake, for one thing.
Have n't you heard about it? Almost every-
body else has. Did n't you see the fire!"
What fire ?"
"What fire!" echoed Toby, with a bitter
laugh. "Well! I 'm glad you did n't know what
I was going through, just now. Mother!" he
said in brave accents, but with a tremor of emo-
tion, as Mrs. Trafford entered the room, what
do you think of your young hopeful ? "

"Why, Tobias!" she said in amazement,
"what has happened ? Have you been in the
water ? "
"I 've been in the water- and I've been in the
fire and I've been in one of the prettiest little
scrapes, on the whole, that you ever heard of!
Give me some salve to put on my burns,
and I '11 tell you about it. Or, maybe I 'd
better take off my wet clothes first."
"Your burns, my son exclaimed his mother,
examining him with alarmed solicitude while
Mildred ran for the salve. "Your hands! -and
your ankles! Why, Tobias!"
It 's nothing serious," said Toby. Only
a little smarting. How are my eyebrows ? I
thought they got a singe. It was just the fool-
ishest piece of business ever you heard of!.
There! That makes them feel better as Mrs.
Trafford applied the salve. Now I shall be
all right. My clothes got it a little, I think."
No matter about the clothes, since they
did n't take fire and burn you worse. Do tell
me about it, my son! I thought you went for
the hay."
So I did, mother." Toby had seated him-
self in a kitchen chair, to have his feet attended
to, and was now in no hurry to change his
clothes. And we had a big boat-load of it-
Mr. Brunswick's scow, which I borrowed. And
I tell you, it was lucky you did n't go with us,
Milly, as Bertha did! I don't know what we
should have done if there had been two girls "
"Bertha! did anything happen to her? "
cried Mildred.
"She was on top of the load, and Tom and
I were in the stern, where there was just room
to turn about and manage the boat, when Tom
- I don't know just how to tell it," said Toby,
" for I don't want to say a word that is n't true,
and we were all so excited but I 'm sure about
the main points. Tom undertook to light his
On the hay ? said Mildred.
"Right on the hay."
"Oh, how foolish groaned Mrs. Trafford.
Foolish is no word for it; he was crazy,"
cried Toby, with growing excitement, "and I
told him so."
So he set the hay afire ? said his mother.
"Well," said Toby, I'11 tell you. I sup-


pose I was partly to blame for that. Bertha
was frightened, and as he would n't mind when
I told him to put up his matches, but started to
strike one, I tried to stop him. The first one
gotbroken; he will say that was my fault, and
maybe it was. Then he got out another, and
because I would n't let him light it, he under-
,took to throw me into the lake. The fire broke
out while we were having our squabble; and
that 's how it got such a start. Whether the
end of his first match was lighted when it flew
off, and dropped into the hay; or whether his
second match, or his whole bunch of matches,
fell and got stepped on, I don't know, and I
don't believe he does, or that anybody ever will
"But I can't see that you were to blame
at all, for trying to stop him," said Mildred,
eagerly; and Bertha was on the load!"
"Yes; and you can imagine the situation.
Hay dry as tinder, all bursting into a blaze; just
wind enough to fan it, and nothing to dip water
with! I had taken off my shoes and stockings,
so I could step into the shallows, when we got
the boat off. The shoes were in the stern, and
I started to use one of them for a dipper, but the
fire was spreading too fast. It was between us
and Bertha; she was driven over to the other
end of the load by it. That 's the way I got
scorched going to her. I got her off into
the water, with an oar one of the big, clumsy
oars that belonged to the scow to keep her
afloat. Then Yellow Jacket came in his boat
with Lick Stevens, and picked us all up. And
here I am," said Toby; not exactly as happy
as a clam at high water, but happy enough, to
think how much worse it might have been."
If Bertha had been burned or drowned !-
or you, my son!" said the widow, with wet
eyes, and in tremulous tones.
There was n't much danger, so far as I was
concerned," replied Toby. But it was a rather
close squeak for her! It makes me feel old
when I think of it."
Suddenly he burst out laughing.
What do you think Tom did ? Threw his
gun and dog in the lake, then jumped in after
them, and let the pitchfork and one rake burn!
As if a water-dog like that would n't have taken
care of himself, as soon as he saw his master

go overboard! But the gun will be a more
serious matter, if he can't find it. And the
scow,"-Toby grew sober once more,-"that's
the most I care for now."
"Surely Mr. Tazwell can't refuse to make
good the loss," remarked his mother.
One would say not. But there 's no know-
ing what he 'll do or won't do. I must go on
and speak to Mr. Brunswick about it, at
"You can't go, my son, with those feet! "
"I can't go with anybody else's. The soles
did n't get burnt; only the ankle and instep of
this one, and the other just a trifle. I need n't
change my clothes; they are drying on me.
Give me another pair of socks; and my low
shoes, Milly, that 's a good girl! I never will
speak another cross word to her in my life! he
said to himself, touched by her sympathy and
devotion as she hastened to wait on him.
If she had stopped to think of it, she would
surely have made a similar resolution,- such a
dear, good, generous brother as he was! And
yet how long was it, do you suppose, before the
two were teasing and pestering each other again,
as of old ?
How easy it seems to turn over a new leaf!
And yet how hard it sometimes is, with the
breath of a bad habit always blowing it back!


TOBY's mother insisted on his putting on dry
clothes; which done, he reclined on the kitchen
lounge, with his feet up, while he put fresh
salve on his burns, laid on cool linen, and drew
a pair of loose socks over all.
As he was thus engaged, the door-bell rang,
and Mildred went to answer it. In their altered
circumstances, since the failure, the Traffords
had no servant, except on two days in the week,
when Mrs. Patterson (mother of Yellow Jacket)
came in for the heavy household work.
The visitor was Mr. Frank Allerton, the
schoolmaster, who inquired for Tobias.
Bring him in here," said Toby. He won't
In the kitchen!" said Mildred, blushing.
"What are you thinking of? "


He has seen a kitchen before, and never a
neater one, I warrant!" replied Toby.
He will excuse everything, under the cir-
cumstances; it will be better than to keep him
waiting," said the mother.
So Mildred went to show the master in. He
wore his blue frock coat, with a pink in the
button-hole; and he paused to pat the little
coil of hair on the top of his head as he crossed
the entry.
"Well, Tobias, what 's this I hear?" he
said, bowing to Mrs. Trafford, and advancing
to take the boy's hand, which, however, Toby
You will please excuse him from rising, and
from shaking hands," said Mrs. Trafford. "I
was just dressing his bums."
Burns! said the master. I have n't heard
anything about bums. I was told that you
had been in the lake."
"I made a mistake in not going into the lake
first," replied Toby. I went into the fire first;
and it was a very bad blunder. But the burns
are nothing to speak of. It 's not the burn,
but the salve," laughingly showing his anointed
fingers, that prevents my shaking hands."
"This is my mother, Mr. Allerton," said
Mildred, who had been waiting for Toby to
make the introduction.
"Oh yes! I forgot! said Toby.
"You always do forget," said Mildred, in an
undertone, placing a chair for the visitor.
Mrs. Trafford made no apology for receiving
Mr. Allerton in the kitchen. Having already
dressed the worst burns, she proceeded to ban-
dage Toby's hands, which he declared did not
need bandaging. He finally consented to have
his right hand done up, provided she would
leave his left hand free. That was the hand that
had dragged the oar through the outer edge of
the fire, and had suffered less than the other.
Mr. Allerton took a seat by the lounge, and
inquired how the hay took fire.
Have n't you heard?" said Toby, anxious
to know what sort of a story had got about.
I heard you boys were having your Fourth
of July a little in advance," replied the master,
smiling; and that you, Tobias,lighted some fire-
crackers on the boat-load of hay. How was it?"
"Oh, Mr. Allerton!" exclaimed Mildred,

while Toby sat silent with astonishment, "do
you think my brother would do such a silly
thing as that ? "
"With Bertha Tazwell on the load with
them ?" added the mother.
I confess," said the master, it did n't seem
to me very probable. Another account I heard
was that he was smoking a cigarette; but I knew
he did n't smoke. You see how the most recent
events get twisted about in the telling and
how what we call history gets written "
"And what do they say of Tom Tazwell? "
Toby asked, with a curious smile playing about
his lips.
He was in the same boat with you, in both
a figurative and a literal sense. The fire-crackers
were some you two had taken out of the store;
he furnished the matches, and you lighted
And what about Yellow Jacket ? "
The Patterson boy ?" said the master. "It
seems he was the hero of the hour. He rowed to
the spot at the critical moment, and caught the
Tazwell girl by the hair just as she was sinking
for the third time. He had already thrown off
his coat and shoes in order to dive for her, when
fortunately her curls floated to the surface."
Oh, what whoppers !" Mildred exclaimed,
but immediately clapped her hand on her lips,
blushing deeply. "I mean the stories that
were told to you, Mr. Allerton."
Toby made no comment. He was sitting
with his head down, trying to put on a shoe
without hurting his foot.
"Let me," said his mother.
"Let you what ? he replied with a laugh,
looking up suddenly. "I have n't been scorched.
I have n't been in the water. There was n't
any load of hay. It 's all make-believe, from
first to last."
I saw the boat still afloat and smoking, as
I came in," replied the master. But I don't
wonder, Tobias, that you should speak as you
do. Was the Yellow Jacket episode all an in-
vention, too ? "
"No, and that's the provoking part of it.
There 's a little truth in everything you have
said. Yellow Jacket was on the spot, and I
have n't a word to say against his being the
hero of the hour. But, facts are facts. There



was never a life more easily saved than Bertha
After you had got her off the boat, out of the
fire and into the water, with an oar to keep her
afloat!" Mildred struck in eagerly.
Never mind about that," said Toby. "She
was afloat, like Tom and me; and there was no
immediate danger of anybody's drowning when
Yellow Jacket came in his boat, with Aleck Ste-
vens, and picked us all up. He behaved well;
nobody could have done better; but as to the
floating curls, just as she was sinking for the
third time that! snapping the fingers of his
best hand, with a laugh.
Bertha has n't any curls, to begin with,"
said Mildred; "she wears her hair in a wavy
fleece on her neck."
As good as curls to catch hold of," said
Toby, "provided there was any truth in the
story. She did n't even get the top of her head
wet, I let her off into the lake so easy-like! "
He went on to repeat his own account of the
accident, as briefly and simply as possible. It
did not occur to him to take any credit to
himself for doing all in his power to avert
a calamity which he had done something to
bring on.
I ought not to have meddled with Tom and
his matches in the way I did; that 's a fact.
If all I could say did no good, then I ought to
have let him alone. And so I would have done,
if it had n't been for Bertha's being aboard. I
would have taken care of myself. But with his
sister right there on the hay, I could n't help it.
I had to interfere! "
Mr. Allerton looked earnestly at the boy, and
gave two or three gentle nods, with a peculiar
smile. Toby hoped he would say, I don't see
that you could have acted differently "; but he
remarked merely:
I am very glad to have heard your version

of the affair, Tobias. And I think I know of
one or two mothers who are thankful it was no
He extended his hand to Mrs. Trafford as he
rose to go.
I am thankful, indeed! said the widow in
a quivering voice, and with suffused eyes. I
am thankful, too, and have been for a long
while," she added, "for the interest you have
taken in my son. He has needed such a coun-
selor, and your talks with him have done him
It was Mr. Allerton's turn to betray emotion
in his tones.
"What a man in my position has to say to
boys is often regarded by them as an imperti-
nence," he replied. It is to your son's credit,
rather than mine, if he has taken it in a different
Toby had risen, too." I am going out with
you," he said.
Oh, Tobias, are you able ? remonstrated
his mother.
Of course; it does n't hurt me at all to step,"
said Toby. "I must go over and tell Mr.
Brunswick about his scow, the first thing."
"I have no doubt he has heard of it," said
the master, with a smile.
If he has heard of it a hundred times," Toby
replied, "I should think I ought to go and tell
him myself. Though I dread it!"
"I '11 walk along with you," said Mr.
Encouraged by what Mrs. Trafford had said
to him,-for he was a shy and diffident man,-
he gave Mildred his hand at parting, and felt his
heart warmed by the glistening, grateful look
that beamed in her bright eyes. Then giving
his little wad of hair a final, unconscious twist,
he put on his hat in the entry, and went out
with Toby.

(To be continued.)

// J'



As little Lizette was out walking one day,
Attired with great splendor in festal array,
She met little Gretchen, in sober-hued gown,
With a basket of eggs, trudging off to the

"Good-morning! Good-morning! cried little
"You have n't been over to visit me yet.
Come over and live with me always; pray do.
For I have no sisters; how many have
you ? "

cried, "Ah, me !
I have to pretend I have sisters, you see.

But try as I will, I can't make it seem true.
And I have no brothers. How many have
you ? "

"Nein," answered wee Gretchen. Nine !"
echoed Lizette,
"Why, you are the luckiest girl I have met!
And have you a baby at home, tell me now ? "
" Nein," answered wee Gretchen, and made a
droll bow.

Then lingered Lizette by the roadside that day,
To watch the wee maiden go trudging away.
" Nine brothers, nine sisters, nine babies to pet!
Oh, I wish I was Gretchen!" sighed little



SOME of the boys and girls who read ST.
NICHOLAS may not understand just what an
industrial school is; please allow me to tell, in
a general way, what it includes and how it dif-
fers from other schools.
Industrial education means one thing in
Europe and quite another in America. In
France, Germany, Russia, and some other
European countries, children are taught in the
public schools, not general knowledge, as with
us, but just enough of arithmetic, geometry,
drawing, and mechanics to fit them for the
trade by which they expect to earn their living.
For instance, when a boy, enters school there,
he is usually allowed a week or ten days to try
his hand at each one of several trades which in-
terest him, and is then expected to choose that
for which he is best adapted, and upon choos-
ing he becomes (we will say) a watchmaker for
life. It is not really necessary that he should
know anything about Latin or Greek, history,
literature, or advanced mathematics, and so he
is kept at those studies only which will help
him to become a good watchmaker. Such
training is called "industrial" because it edu-
cates for an especial industry.
In America, we believe that all boys and
girls should have a certain amount of general
knowledge quite independent of the occupa-
tions they may intend to follow after graduation,
and until within a few years, only such know-
ledge has been taught in our schools. But wise
men who have studied educational matters
very carefully have come to the conclusion
that Americans have paid too little attention
to training the eye and hand: that children are
taught to learn things from their books, but do
not use their eyes to observe carefully; and so,
by and by, when they wish to work with their
hands they are not well prepared to do so.
They say, too, that young people ought to
learn how to make things with their hands
VOL. XVIII.- 18.

and how to use tools, not chiefly because they
may need to know these things in order to earn
a living, but because drawing and constructing
help them to acquire habits of accuracy, de-
cision, and quick judgment, and because these
studies teach such habits far better than any
other branches. Others say that since a large
proportion of the scholars who graduate from
our schools must earn a living by working with
their hands, the eye and hand should be trained
to careful perception and skillful imitation; and
that just as the present literary system assists
the boy who is to become a lawyer or a min-
ister, or the girl who is to teach or to write, so
manual training should be given to teach the
use of tools and the properties of materials,
which are essential to the understanding of all
This training of the hand, or "manual train-
ing," is included in the broad use that we
Americans make of the term industrial edu-
cation "; but it is also true that we speak of
many schools as industrial, in which special in-
dustries are taught to fit the scholars to gain
a living, as in the large charitable schools of
New York and other cities.
In Brooklyn, New York, there was estab-
lished, in 1887, a very large and complete in-
dustrial school, the largest in this country and
perhaps in the world, where manual training
in all its numerous departments is very care-
fully taught.
The fine building, or series of buildings, the
ample grounds, and all the splendid equipment
of machinery and furnishings, as well as the
means to carry on the courses of instruction,
are given by Mr. Charles Pratt, of Brooklyn,
a man of fortune, who wished to bestow some
gift of lasting value on the city, and after care-
ful consideration decided that a school of this
kind was the most useful institution he could
establish. The splendid success of its three


years' work has fully proved the wisdom and
the philanthropy of the generous founder.
Beginning with less than twenty pupils (the
school having capacity for several thousands),
the present number at work in all the depart-
ments is about twenty-two hundred, and fully two
million dollars have already been expended.
On a regular school-day, the building seems
like a vast bee-hive of busy workers. If we
were to attempt a visit to each one of the
eighty-four rooms comprised in the nine de-
partments, it would need a whole number of
ST. NICHOLAS to describe them all. We shall,
therefore, look into those only which are of most
interest to readers of this magazine.
The only department which is entirely given
up to boys and girls of high-school age, and
therefore of chief interest to them, is the Manual
Training School, called at Pratt Institute the
Technical High School. We will visit this
department first. Only young people of high-
school age are admitted here, and the scholars
are a bright-looking company of young people,
I can assure you.
Perhaps you will better understand the work
done here, if you imagine that you have grad-
uated from the grammar-school and wish to
enter the Technical High School. Remember
that you are not to fit yourself to be a car-
penter or a blacksmith, or a cook or a dress-
maker, but simply to learn how to use your
eyes and hands as well as your brain, so that
you can do anything well.
The regular course includes such studies as
algebra, geometry, trigonometry, rhetoric, Eng-
lish literature, political science, physics and
chemistry, French and Latin, for both boys and
girls, very much the same as in an ordinary
high school. But in addition to this, the boys
have three periods each day for drawing and
shop work, and the girls the same time for
drawing and cooking, sewing, dress-making,
wood-carving or modeling, the work varying
with each term.
Let us visit the large, airy room, containing
forty-eight benches (though only half that num-
ber of scholars is allowed to work at a time),
where boys of the first year spend two periods
of each day learning to work in wood. Each
bench has a neat set of tools snugly put away

in a little closed cupboard which stands on the
bench. Each boy has his own and keeps it in/
good order. Suspended above the bench is a
blue-print picture of the piece of work which is
to be given for the day's lesson. From a large
lumber-room on another floor, boards of suita-
ble size have been brought, and as the boys come
in, with faces full of interest in the work before
them, they lay aside any superfluous articles of
dress in neat lockers in the adjoining room.
Each has been taught the use of hammer and
plane, saw, chisel, and square, one at a time; and
now, with a few instructions from the teacher in
charge, the scholar knows just how to go to work.
Perhaps it is a joint or a sash that is given him.
He works carefully, frequently consulting his
blue-print model. The result of his work is
not a matter of indifference, by any means.
Thirty patterns of different pieces must be
made, and accepted by the instructor, before the
boy can pass from this room to the next; and
as much depends on'his faithfulness in this part
of his duty as in the geometry or chemistry class.
Next term, all who have successfully com-
pleted this work will go on to the wood-turning
room, where there are forty-eight benches and
wood-turning lathes, besides circular and scroll
saws, a buzz-planer and various other machines
necessary to a full understanding of the art of
wood-turning. Such neat little rings, cylinders,
and cups as are turned out here; and after
regular hours, you often may see the boys at
work by themselves, busily making some pretty
cabinet, book-rack, or even a set of doll's furni-
ture for the little sister, thus pleasantly applying
the principles learned in class.
The study of pattern-making, during the last
term of the first year, naturally precedes the
foundry-work which follows at the beginning
of the second year. There is a fine large foun-
dry in the basement sixty-six feet long and
twenty-nine feet wide. The ceiling is eighteen
feet high, and there are twelve big skylights.
The equipment of this room includes an iron-
melting cupola-furnace, two brass-furnaces, and
a white-metal gas-furnace. The boys have
delightful times down there, learning to mold
and cast their patterns in iron.
The smith shop, where forging is studied dur-
ing the rest of the school year, is one of the


most interesting in the whole building. This is
even a little larger than the foundry and has
ventilating skylights, and all the appliances for
smiths' work. Each student has his own forge
and anvil,- there are twenty-five of them,-
and just now the forges are glowing with bright
heat, for the boys are taking their first lesson in
welding. The air is as clear as it is in the street.
There is no smoke nor dust, for both are carried
away by pipes laid under the floor and an ex-


haust-fan. The instructor has no occasion to
reprove his pupils for inattention in this room.
Time is much too precious to waste. You have
all heard the old maxim, Strike while the iron
is hot," but unless you have worked at a forge,
you do not realize its full meaning. When the
iron that is being heated has reached a certain
temperature it must be taken quickly to the an-
vil and there hammered into the desired shape.

It may be reheated if necessary, but the striking
must be done just when the metal is ready for it,
else the whole work is spoiled and a new piece
must be obtained. Each boy makes his own fire
and has to learn how to keep it at the right tem-
perature for the work in hand. His little shovel
must take up just enough coal to supply the
right amount of heat, but not enough to smother
the fire. Among other good things acquired
here, the pupils learn the nature and values of
different sorts of fuel. Hardening and temper-
ing of iron and steel, soldering, and brazing, are
other useful arts taught in the second year. In
one part of the room each student has a drawer
marked with his own number, and from these we
are shown bolts, screws, parts of chains, and
various other fine pieces of ironwork from the
forges of these young smiths.
For the last year is reserved the more difficult
bench-work in metal-turning and boring, screw-
cutting, the study of the construction of the
turning-lathe and other machinery, including the
steam-engine, with practice in the engine-room.
Strength and utility of materials, machine de-
sign, principles and construction of the tele-
graph, telephone, dynamo, call-bells, etc., also
belong in the last year, together with the higher
English branches and theoretical studies already
Every boy connected with the institute be-
comes interested in the engine-room. It is as
clean and well-kept as the handsomest parlor,
and is the home of a splendid 40 horse-power
Harris-Corliss engine which furnishes power for
all the machinery in the building. Here also is
a high-speed engine which drives an Edison dy-
namo, and supplies about two thousand incan-
descent electric lights. An 8oo-light dynamo
furnishes arc-lights for the shops and trade-
school. In the room adjoining are two huge,
black boilers, each of 1oo horse-power. The fur-
naces are fed with oil, once refined, and furnish
heat for all the buildings as well as power for the
engines, elevators, electric lights, etc. The oil is
brought into the basement in pipes, and as one
looks into the mouth of the furnace it is seen
shooting out in a stream of liquid which at once
becomes gas and ignites, making a hollow,
cavernous, roaring mass of pure red and blue
flame suggestive of explosives and general de-



struction. But so carefully is each day's supply
of oil inspected that no possible danger attaches
to this method of heating. In one week five
thousand gallons of oil- were used.
From the first floor of the main building, the
elevator takes us on a flying trip up to the sixth
floor, where the cooking-classes are at work, and
where the girls of the Technical High School
are having their lessons in manual training,
though a large number of pupils join these
classes who are not connected with the work of
this department. If you wish to take the full
course in cooking, you will learn also the man-
agement of fires; how to keep in order the
kitchen, with its big range, cooking-tables and
sinks; how to select meat and vegetables from
the market; as well as the preparation of every
article of food, from bread to beefsteak in the
first course, to distracting desserts and salads
in the second course. Four "housekeepers"
are appointed to share the work of preparation,
and each member of the class performs this
duty in the course of the term. Here, for ex-
ample, is a list of the tasks required from House-

keepers Numbers One and Two, and all the
white-fingered young women whom you see at
work at the neat tables have performed them:

First Lesson.
Get kindlings and coal.
Build the fire.
Regulate the dampers.
Empty ashes into sifter.
Brush stove, under and around it.
Blacken stove.
Fill tea-kettle with fresh water.
Wash hearth or zinc under stove.
Wash cloth and put to dry.
Sift ashes.
Bring cinders to kitchen.

Regular Work.
Regulate the fire.
Brush under and around the stove.
Replenish the tea-kettle.
Wash dishes.
Wash sink with hot suds.
Empty tea-kettle and turn it over to dry.
Arrange the fire to last several hours, or let it go out,
as required.



Dust the room thoroughly.
Begin at one corner and take each article in turn as
you come to it.
Dust from the highest things to the lowest, taking up
the dust in the cloth, not brushing it on the floor.
Shake the duster occasionally in a suitable place, and
when done, wash and hang it up to dry.
When sweeping is to be done, these direc-
tions are given:
Begin at one side and sweep toward one place.
Hold the broom close to the floor; sweep with short
strokes, and let the broom take the dust along the
floor, instead of tossing it into the air.

Regular Work.
Bring stores to teacher and pupils when directed.
Scrub teacher's table.
Collect soiled dishes from tables and take them to the
Put clean dishes in their places.

The floor is spotlessly clean, the little gas-
stoves, at each division of the long tables where
the young cooks prepare their viands, are in
perfect order. Each drawer contains its proper
allowance of spoons, knives, measuring-cups,
graters, egg-beaters, etc., etc., and is as fresh
and sweet as it can be made. The big range
smiles with black good-humor across the room
to the polished glass doors of the buffet where
a pretty china table-service is displayed.
The trying times for the young housekeepers,
after the six months' course is completed, are
the examination, and the "test dinner which
each student must satisfactorily prepare before
receiving her certificate. For the test dinner
she receives a plain bill of fare, consisting of
soup, fish, roast, vegetables, dessert, and coffee,
each article being specified in kind, and this she
is to serve nicely in courses to a little company
of guests which always includes some of her
instructors. Official guests are often requested
to mark their estimates of the various dishes
presented. For instance, a well-flavored, appe-
tizing soup may be marked ioo; the fish or
roast, lacking in some respects in cooking or
service, receives 90; the vegetables, being just
about right, 98. Perhaps a slow fire has spoiled
the bake of a fourth dish, and 60 is the high-
est mark allowed by one just diner; while an-
other, compassionating the anxiety of the young

hostess, lets mercy run away with his judgment
and puts down an 80 for the unfortunate dish.
But in general the favored guests speak in the
highest terms of the choice cooking and dainty
methodical service of the pupils in the Pratt In-
stitute cooking-classes. An additional course
in fancy cooking, and another in the selection,
preparation, and serving of food for invalids, are
offered, and hundreds of Brooklyn young women
are being trained in one of the most useful of all
housewifely arts and fitting themselves to help
their mothers now, and to superintend homes of
their own by and by. There are also evening
classes where those who are employed in any
way through the day are admitted at lower rates
of tuition.
Occasionally, a man comes over from Fulton
Market bringing a mysterious-looking, odd-
shaped bundle, and various knives and saws.
Perhaps the bundle contains a quarter of beef,
or a side of mutton, which the man cuts up in
the presence of the class, explaining carefully
where are the best pieces for roasts, soups, and
stews. He teaches the pupils how to tell
whether the meat is in good condition. Hang-
ing on the wall is a large colored drawing of a
cow marked off in portions for cooking, and on
the following day each scholar is expected to
tell how she would go marketing and select a
first-class dinner.
Down on the third floor, dozens of shining
needles are at work in the sewing, dress-making,
or embroidery rooms. A most interesting place
just now is the room devoted to art embroidery,
for the young lady at the head of this depart-
ment went to Europe last summer and brought
home some fascinating specimens of designs from
South Kensington and other art centers of the Old
World, besides various cunning devices in Ger-
man tapestry and ecclesiastical stitches on which
the young students are now pleasantly at work.
Here is a class of the first term, making pretty
drawn-work; another learning damask and
tapestry stitches, or tapestry-staining and ap-
plique. Four approved pieces of work and a
sampler similar to that which your grandmother
made when she was a little girl, must be completed
and exhibited before leaving this room. There
is a second and very interesting course which
occupies five mornings in each week for the en-


tire school year, and includes the study and
arrangement of materials and colors, lessons in
drawing ornaments from the cast, and the study
of plants for use in making designs; all of which
are carefully taught and much enjoyed.
But no young lady can enter the embroidery
classes or the dress-making rooms, who has not
first passed a thorough examination in all forms
of plain sewing, and these she may learn, if she
has not been taught them at home, in the pleas-
ant sewing-room on the same floor. Such fine

from patterns is taught; in the second, taking
measures and fitting dresses; while in the third
or advanced course, all the more difficult work,
such as fitting polonaises, tea-gowns, children's
clothing, and outside garments, is studied.
Perhaps one day the lesson is about sleeyes.
Around the room are models of all the most
elaborate designs, as well as the plainer kinds.
The teacher gives a lecture on sleeves at the
beginning, and each scholar has her own little
table, supplied with measures and sewing ma-


specimens of work as are exhibited here !- such
hemming and felling, such gathering and darn-
ing, button-holing and hemstitching, and such
excellent sewing-machine work as well. For
there are several kinds of sewing-machines, so
that one may select her favorite and learn its
In the dress-making rooms, which are light
and airy, and supplied with everything needed,
from dummies to dusters, girl students are busily
at work learning how to cut, fit, and drape their
own dresses, and also how to make children's
clothes. On an exhibition day at the end of
the year, that long line of dummies wears each
a pretty, stylish costume, the work of the students.
In the first course, cutting and making dresses

trials, where she prepares her sleeves. The
teacher goes about to inspect the work, and to
make corrections. There is a best way of doing
every thing with the needle, and a great many
of the best ways are taught here. Besides being
taught how to make and fit garments, the girls
hear lectures about the most healthful ways of
dressing, and are advised how to select goods
and combine colors to make a tasteful costume.
"Every girl her own milliner must be the
motto in the next room of the Domestic Science
Department, where a score of girls are learning
to cover hat-frames, or to bind and face all
kinds of hats and bonnets. All the work here is
done in Canton flannel, which is soft and easily
worked, but so inexpensive that it does not mat-


ter so much if one does make a mistake in the
first day's lesson. In the second course, pretty
bonnets and toques are made, still in the-plain
material, while the velvets and laces, feathers and
flowers and ribbons are reserved for the third
course, and all the pretty ideas are made use of
in a handsome head-covering of the most ap-
proved-style and finish.
Where do you. think those artistic models
come from? Not from any Fifth Avenue mil-
liner, but from the public schools of Paris where
the little daughters of the poor are taught to de-
sign beautiful work, and are so carefully trained
in the combination of colors and selection of
materials that our most tasteful milliners eagerly
seek their hats and bonnets for patterns. All of
the ST. NICHOLAS readers in the United States
must have noticed the unusual beauty of the dolls
offered for sale last Chri'stmas, and especially
their beautiful toilets, so charming in color, and
of so many different designs. Many, indeed
nearly all, of these are the work of Paris school-
girls, who may not know so much of history,
physiology, algebra, or arithmetic as you do, but
who have learned very thoroughly these lessons
in which they have been taught to use their fin-
gers on dainty silks and laces. A case of these
artistic hats and bonnets in the millinery room
of Pratt Institute furnishes models for the busy
students, and when their work is exhibited at
the end of the school-year, it is always very
much admired.
It would seem that a girl could learn very
nearly everything that she would ever need to
know for herself and her home in the Domestic
Science Department; for besides all that has
been described to you, about fifty young ladies
during the past year have been learning how
to give aid in such emergencies as poisoning,
sunstroke, drowning, and accidents of all sorts,
and also how to care for sick people, apply
bandages, make poultices, keep the sick-room
clean and well-aired without disturbing the
patient, and how to prepare nice gruels and
toasts and dainty dishes that invalids enjoy.
The head-nurse of the Seney hospital comes
over to teach the young nurses how to make
beds for invalids and how to give them all
possible comforts.
And one more branch of instruction must be

described to you. It has been opened recently,
but promises to be very popular. What do you
think of a course of lessons in which. the pupils
learn how best to ventilate and heat a house,'
and to take care of the cellar, garden, and side-
walks, how to keep sleeping-rooms, store-room,
attic, and linen-closet in order, and how to ar-
range the work of a house for the week so that
the sweeping, dusting, and general cleaning
need not interfere with the comfort of the family,
or be crowded together and interfere with the
comfort of the mistress ?-And more than that,
how to keep your household accounts, manage
servants, and how to entertain guests and at-
tend to the social duties of a home.
There are two large rooms occupying the
entire fifth floor of the main building, where all
boys who like to see curious and instructive
articles, and all girls who enjoy works of art and
beauty, will wish to spend a long time. The
ushers whose business it is to show people over
the building will tell you that of all the ten
thousand visitors during the past year, the
greater part spent more than one-half of the
time allowed for seeing the entire series of build-
ings in this, the Technical Museum. Its object
is to illustrate, by means of specimens properly
classified and labeled, the consecutive stages
through which materials of different kinds pass
in their transition from the crude to the finished
article." A full illustration of the method is seen
in the case devoted to iron, where fine speci-
mens of iron ore are shown; and, following on
in regular order, pig-iron, with a small model
showing how it is made; then the three forms,
cast-iron, wrought-iron, and steel, with hand-
some specimens of articles made from each
of these. Any one who examines this case care-
fully, learns a useful and lasting lesson in the
manufacture of iron and steel.
Another interesting corer of the museum,
and one where visitors like to linger, is that
where glass, pottery, and porcelain are displayed
in large cases. A learned professor spent several
months in selecting and purchasing the choicest
specimens of these articles that he could find in
England, Fran.ce, Austria, Germany, Holland,
and Belgium; and the result is very fascinating.
If you take time to study the cases, instead
of simply admiring the pretty things that they



contain, you will have another valuable lesson
-a lesson in ceramics. For here is the clay or
kaolin of which all these beautiful jars and vases
are made, just as it is taken from the earth;
and then all the common forms of pottery in
process of manufacture. Here are beautiful

machinery complete, which is sometimes run-
ning at full speed, the motive power being fur-
nished by a tiny engine; or of the beautiful
forms of crystals, the hundreds of mineral speci-
mens, the collections of textile fabrics, of laces
and embroideries, and many other curious and

", "
k -


Moorish jars whose pattern and coloring re-
mind you of the Alhambra and of Washington
Irving's stories about the Moors in Spain. Here
are exquisite Sevres, and splendid specimens
of Doulton, Wedgwood, Copeland, and Minton
wares, with fine pieces of faience from Rome,
Milan, and Naples. Some choice pieces are
made in New Jersey. One large case illustrates
the process of glass-making and shows beautiful
pieces of cut, blown, etched, and engraved work.
Some of these pieces are from Austria and Bo-
hemia, some from France and Venice. Hand-
some mosaic work from Rome and Florence,
and some exquisite cameo vases, attract our at-
tention as we hasten by.
I have not space to tell you about the inter-
esting model of an oil-well with derrick and

wonderful things which have been selected by
experienced men and women from many por-
tions of the world. There are a great many
museums in this country that are larger than
this, but not many so thoroughly interesting
and instructive, and the young people who are
pupils in the Institute often come here to see
practical illustrations of the processes they are
The Art Department occupies one entire
floor and several rooms besides and is one of the
most important features of the Institute. Much
of its work is like that of any art school, and
therefore it is not necessary to describe it. In the
clay-room, seated on high stools, students are
industriously working out designs in moist clay,
while across the hall beautiful picture-frames,



panels, or cabinets of wood are being carved in
lovely patterns. Some of the young lady wood-
carvers have taken a course in shop-work and
have first made the frames or cabinets on which
they are carving vines and leaves and conven-
tional patterns. Here, as in other art schools,
designing for carpets, wall-papers, and prints is
taught, and there is a Normal art class where
teachers are fitted for their work.
Nearly every student in the building comes
to the art rooms at some period of the course.
The young milliners and dressmakers learn to
draw models -of the hats, bonnets, and dresses
which they are to make. The carpenters and
smiths draw their designs for working patterns.
Girls from the Manual Training Department, and
boys as well, have regular weekly lessons in art.

wood and metal working rooms, the foundry,
forge-shop, engine-room, and the laboratories
and lecture-rooms, there is a series of large
rooms devoted to the building trades, such as
bricklaying, plumbing, carpentry, plastering,
modeling, and stonecutting. These classes are
only for those who wish to become bricklayers,
plasterers, stonecutters, and so on, and have no
connection whatever with the other work of the
If we visit this long room (for from the vis-
itors' gallery we can see all these rooms at once),
we must come in the evening as there are no
day classes. Here is a long line of young men,
twenty or thirty perhaps, steadily working with
lead pipe and little furnaces, getting ready to
repair water-pipes that may burst next winter.


J' A

~-j-- N


In the next room, piles of brick
The institute buildings and mortar are rising in the air,
extend through the width and an instructor walks around
of a block; and passing giving directions about hand-
from the main building IN THE WOOD-CARVING ROOM. ling the trowel and applying
by a "bridge," as it is called, in which the sounds mortar, building flues and fireplaces, mak-
of twenty-five busy type-writers announce the ing walls and piers. Another teacher superin-
school of phonography and type-writing which tends the -plasterers, most of whom are young
is located here, we come to the department men, while in the farther room a class is engaged
of mechanic arts, a portion of which has al- in molding wet clay into the shapes of grim grif-
ready been described to you. Besides the fins or fierce dragons, or some other ornamental




figures which the same young workers will soon
be taught to carve skillfully in stone for archi-
tectural use.
The first floor and the basement of the main
building yet remain to be visited. On a bright
afternoon, just after the schools of the city have
closed for the day, you will meet many little
companies of boys and girls crowding into the
free library, which is at the right as one enters.
Here are about thirty thousand books, all
selected within three years, and containing the
best reading and newest information that could
be found. This library is entirely free to any
resident of Brooklyn, fourteen years of age or
over. Special type-written lists of books for
young people are placed on the tables, and all
the bright young women behind the desk are
willing to help boys and girls in selecting good
books. You will readily guess the name of the
book for young people that has been most fre-
quently taken from the library the past year.
It was written by an author who contributed a
great many stories to ST. NICHOLAS, and the
book is, of course, Little Women."
Many boys and girls who come for library
books like to linger in the reading-room across
the hall, where there are nearly two hundred
periodicals including all the best papers and
magazines for young people. In the evening,
the room is brilliantly lighted by electricity, and
the globes hang so low over the pretty oak
tables, that reading is quite easy and pleasant.
Down in the basement is a large lunch-room
with neat, prettily-furnished tables where teachers
and scholars and people from outside, if they
wish, can get wholesome, well-served luncheons
at moderate prices. And across the hall from
the lunch-room is the office of a new depart-
ment which might have been founded by Ben-
jamin Franklin himself. Its object is to induce
people, and especially young people, to save
their money and put some aside regularly. The
name of this association is The Thrift, and
Each investor is required to put in the same
sum, whether it be large or small, each month
for ten years. At the end of that time, the
Principal and a liberal rate of interest, besides a
Premium of ten dollars per share, will be paid
back to the investor, making a handsome sum
for a small investment. Suppose, for example,

that you put in the smallest sum that is taken,
that is one dollar each month, which you may
do by saving four cents each working-day. You
are then the possessor of one share. If you
keep on investing one dollar each month for ten
years, at the end of that time you are entitled
to $160, which includes principal, interest, and
premium. Two shares at two dollars each
month amount with premium, at the end of ten
years, to $320; four shares, four dollars each
month, to $640; twenty shares, twenty dollars
a month, to $3200. Any one may invest,
whether connected with the Institute or not.
If only one share is taken by a boy or girl, and
kept up the whole ten years, a very neat little
sum is realized, quite enough to help toward a
year's expenses at college or scientific school, or
a trip to California or Europe. Of more con-
sequence than the money gained is the founda-
tion for habits of thrift and perseverance which
is laid by the regular setting aside of a certain
amount. The young people of Pratt Institute,
as well as the older ones, are becoming much
interested in this new plan, and are taking shares
with great pride in their ability to save money.
The money is lent, on favorable terms, to
people who wish to buy homes and have not
the means to pay for them all at once. By
borrowing the needed amount from The
Thrift, and repaying each month a sum not
much larger than the rent would be, they are
able, after some years, to own free from debt
the house they live in.
In passing through the building from room to
room, we notice everywhere on the walls fine pic-
tures, photographs, etchings, or engravings. The
stairways are lined with illustrations of ancient
and modern art. In the broad window-seats
there are beautiful palms or other foliage plants,
or flowers in bloom. In the hallway of the
Mechanic Arts building, there are three large
camelia trees, which were in full bloom at the
time of my visit. In the evening, hundreds of
electric lights make the rooms bright as a mid-
summer day. All the furnishings are new, and
excellent of their kind. An elevator takes vis-
itors from the main entrance hall to any story of
the building. A number of ushers are always
in waiting to escort visitors about the buildings
and explain to them the different objects of


interest. Over ten thousand people have visited
the Institute during'the past year.
Across the street from the Institute build-
ings, a large plot of ground, 350 feet long and

200 feet wide,
is a playground
for the young wornm-
en. Anoble \lliow -tree
stands in one corner. ind
in the other, in winter time, THE TENNIS-CO
there is a toboggan slide. Numer-
ous tennis-courts are laid out on the space
between. In the rear of the Institute build-
ings there are, for the boys, grounds very nearly
as, ample, fronting on Grand Avenue. And
if you doubt whether the pupils have pleas-

ant times, you have only to visit them during
recreation hours.
As the Institute has been established only
about three years, it is not yet in the height

- - -

of its power
and influence
bu- classes are

generous founder. The students are taught to be
persevering, honest, faithful, and ambitious, and
with its excellent principles and splendid equip-
ment, Pratt Institute cannot fail to become one
of the best educational institutions of our day.




THE following two or three days were wet
and uncomfortable. Rain fell in torrents at
times, and when it did not rain, the ground
was steamy, and the emigrants had a hard time
to find spots dry enough on which to make up
their beds at night. This was no holiday jour-
ney, and the boys, too proud to murmur, ex-
changed significant nods and winks when they
found themselves overtaken by the discom-
forts of camping and traveling in the storm.
For the most part, they kept in camp during the
heaviest of the rain. They found that the yokes
of the oxen chafed the poor animals' necks
when wet.
And then the mud Nobody had ever seen
such mud, they thought, not even on the black
and greasy fat lands of an Illinois prairie. Some-
times the wagon sunk in the road, cut up by
innumerable teams, so that the hubs of the
wheels were almost even with the surface, and
it was with the greatest difficulty that their four
yoke of oxen dragged the wagon from its oozy
bed. At times, too, they were obliged to un-
hitch their oxen and help out of a mud-hole
some other less fortunate brother wayfarer,
whose team was not so powerful as their own.
One unlucky day, fording a narrow creek
with steep banks, they had safely got across,
when they encountered a slippery incline up
which the oxen could not climb; it was "as
slippery as a glare of ice," Charlie said, and
the struggling cattle sank nearly to their knees
in their frantic efforts to reach the top of the
bank. The wagon had been blocked up," that
is to say, the wagon-box raised in its frame or
bed above the axles, with blocks driven un-
derneath, to lift it above the level of the stream.
As the vehicle was dragged out of the creek, the
leading yoke of cattle struggling up the bank

and then slipping back again, the whole team
of oxen suddenly became panic-stricken, as it
were, and rushed back to the creek in wild
confusion. The wagon twisted upon itself,
and cramped together, creaked, groaned, top-
pled, and fell over in a heap, its contents being
shot out before and behind into the mud and
"Great Scott!" yelled Sandy. "Let me
stop those cattle 1 Whereupon the boy dashed
through the water, and, running around the
hinder end of the wagon, he attempted to head
off the cattle. But the animals, having gone
as far as they could without breaking their
chains or the wagon-tongue, which fortunately
held, stood sullenly by the side of the wreck
they had made, panting with their exertions.
"Here is a mess! said his father, but, with-
out more words, he unhitched the oxen and
drove them up the bank. The rest of the
party hastily picked up the articles that were
drifting about, or were lodged in the mud of
the creek. It was a sorry sight, and the boys
forgot, in the excitement of the moment, the
discomforts and annoyances of their previous
experiences. This was a real misfortune.
But while Oscar and Sandy were excitedly
discussing what was next to be done, Mr.
Howell took charge of things; the wagon was
righted, and a party of emigrants, camped in
a grove of cottonwoods just above the ford,
came down with ready offers of help. Eight
yoke of cattle instead of four were now hitched
to the wagon, and, to use the expressive lan-
guage of the West, the outfit was snaked "
out of the hole in double-quick time.
Ho, ho, ho Uncle Charlie," laughed
Sandy, "you look as if you had been dragged
through a slough. You are just painted with
mud from top to toe. Well, I never did see
such a looking scarecrow! "
It 's lucky you have n't any looking-glass


here, young Impudence. If you could see
your mother's boy now, you would n't know
him. Talk about looks! Take, a look at the
youngster, mates," said Uncle Charlie, burst-
ing into a laugh. A general roar followed the
look, for Sandy's appearance was indescribable.
In his wild rush through the waters of the
creek, he had covered himself from head to
foot, and the mud from the wagon had painted
his face a brilliant brown; for there is more or
less of red oxide of iron in the mud of Kansas
It was a doleful party that pitched its tent
that night on the banks of Soldier Creek and
attempted to dry clothes and provisions by the
feeble heat of a little sheet-iron stove. Only
Sandy, the irrepressible and unconquerable
Sandy, preserved his good temper through the
trying experience. It is a part of the
play," he said, and anybody who thinks
that crossing the prairie, 'as of old the pilgrims
crossed the sea,' is a Sunday-school picnic,
might better try it with the Dixon emigrants;
that 's all."
But, after a very moist and disagreeable
night, the sky cleared in the morning. Oscar
was out early, looking at the sky; and when
he shouted Westward ho! with a stentorian
voice, everybody came tumbling out to see
what was the matter. A long line of white-
topped wagons with four yoke of oxen to each,
eleven teams all told, was stringing its way
along the muddy road in which the red sun
was reflected in pools of red liquid mud. The
wagons were overflowing with small children;
coops of fowls swung from behind, and a gen-
eral air of thriftiness seemed to be characteristic
of the company.
Which way are you bound ?" asked Os-
car, cheerily.
Up the Smoky Hill Fork," replied one of
the ox-drivers. Solomon's Fork, perhaps, but
somewhere in that region, anyway."
One of the company lingered behind to see
what manner of people these were who were
so comfortably camped out in a wall-tent.
When he had satisfied his curiosity, he ex-
plained that his companions had come from
northern Ohio, and were bound to lay out a
town of their own in the Smoky Hill region.

Oscar, who listened while his father drew this
information from the stranger, recalled the fact
that the Smoky Hill and the Republican Forks
were the branches of the Kaw. Solomon's
Fork, he now learned, was one of the tributa-
ries of the Smoky Hill, nearer to the Republican
Fork than to the main stream. So he said to
his father, when the Ohio man had passed on:
" If they settle on Solomon's Fork, won't they
be neighbors of ours, Daddy ? "
Mr. Bryant took out a little map of the Ter-
ritory that he had in his knapsack, and, after
some study, made up his mind that the new-
comers would not be "neighbors enough to
hurt," if they came no nearer the Republican
than Solomon's Fork. About thirty-five miles
west and south of Fort Riley, which is at the
junction of the Smoky Hill and the Republican,
Solomon's Fork branches off to the northwest.
Settlers anywhere along that line would not be
nearer the other fork than eighteen or twenty
miles at the nearest. Charlie and Sandy agreed
with Oscar that it was quite as near as desira-
ble neighbors should be. The lads were al-
ready learning something of the spirit of the
West. They had heard of the man who had
moved westward when another settler drove his
stakes twenty miles from his claim, because the
country was getting' too crowded."
That day, passing through the ragged log
village of Tecumseh, they got their first letters
from home. When they left Illinois, they had
not known just where they would strike, in the
Territory, but they had resolved that they would
not go further west than Tecumseh; and here
they were, with their eyes still fixed toward the
West. No matter; just now, news from home
was to be devoured before anybody could talk
of the possible Kansas home that yet loomed
before them in the dim distance. How good it
was to learn all about the dear ones left at
home; to find that Bose was keeping guard
around the house as if he knew that he was the
protector of the two mothers left to themselves
in one home; to hear that the brindle calf had
grown very large, and that a circus was com-
ing to town the very next day after the letter
was written.
That circus has come and gone without our
seeing it," said Sandy, solemnly.


Sandy is as good as a circus, any day,"
said his uncle, fondly. "The greatest show in
the country would have been willing to hire you
for a sight, fixed out as you were last night,
after we had that upset in the creek." The
boys agreed that it was lucky for all hands that
the only looking-glass in camp was the little bit
of a one hidden away in Uncle Charlie's shav-
ing case.
The next day, to their great discomfiture, they
blundered upon a county election. Trudging
into Libertyville, one of the new mushroom
towns springing up along the military road that
leads from Fort Leavenworth to Fort Riley,
they found a great crowd of people gathered
around a log-house, in which the polls were
open. County officers were to be chosen, and
the pro-slavery men, as the Borderers were now
called in this part of the country, had rallied in
great numbers to carry the election for their
men. All was confusion and tumult. Rough-
looking men, well-armed and generally loud-
voiced, with slouched hats and long beards,
were galloping about, shouting and making all
the noise possible, for no purpose that could be
discovered. Hooray for Cap'n Pate!" was
the only intelligible cry that the new-comers
could hear; but who Captain Pate was, and
why he should be hurrahed for, nobody seemed
to know. He was not a candidate for anything.
Hullo! there 's our Woburn friend, John
Clark," said Mr. Howell. Sure enough, there
he was with a vote in his hand going up to the
cabin where the polls were open. A lane was
formed through the crowd of men who lounged
about the cabin, so that a man going up to the
door to vote was obliged to run the gantlet, as
it were, of one hundred men, or more, before
he reached the door, the lower half of which
was boarded up and the upper half left open
for the election officers to take and deposit the
ballots. .
I don't believe that man has any right to
vote here," said Charlie, with an expression of
disgust on his face. Why, he came into the
Territory with us, only the other day, and he
said he was going up on the Big Blue to settle,
and here he is trying to vote!"
"Well," said Uncle Charlie, "I allow he has
just as good a right to vote as any of these men

who are running the election. I saw some of
these very men come riding in from Missouri,
when we were one day out of Quindaro." As
he spoke, John Clark had reached the voting-
place, pursued by many rough epithets flung
after him.
He paused before the half-barricaded door
and presented his ballot. Let 's see yer
ticket! shouted one of two men who stood
guard, one either side of the cabin-door. He
snatched it from Clark's hand, looked at it and
simply said H'ist! The man on the other
side of the would-be voter grinned; then both
men seized the Woburn man by his arms and
waist, and, before he could realize what was
happening, he was flung up to the edge of the
roof that projected over the low door. Two
other men, sitting there, grabbed the new-comer
by the shoulders and passed him up the roof to
two others, who, straddling the ridge-pole, were
waiting for him. Then the unfortunate Clark
disappeared over the top of the cabin, sliding
down out of sight on the farther side. The
mob set up a wild cheer and some of them
shouted, "We don't want any Yankee votes in
this yer electionn "
Shameful! Shameful!" burst forth from Mr.
Bryant. I have heard of such things before
now, but I must say I never thought I should
see it." He turned angrily to his brother-in-law
as Mr. Howell joined the boys in their laugh.
"How can you laugh at such a shameful
sight, Aleck Howell? I 'm sure it 's something
to cry over, rather than to laugh at--a spectacle
like that! A free American citizen hustled away
from the polls in that disgraceful fashion "
"But, Charlie," said Uncle Aleck, "you '11
admit that it was funny to see the Woburn man
hoisted over that cabin. Besides, I don't be-
lieve he has any right to vote here; do you ? "
He would have been allowed to vote fast
enough if he had had the sort of ballot that
those fellows want to go into the box. They
looked at his ballot, and as soon as they saw
what it was, they threw him over the cabin."
Just then, John Clark came back from the
ravine into which he had slid from the roof of
the log-house, looking very much crestfallen.
He explained that he had met some pro-slavery
men on the road that morning, and they had


told him he could vote, if he chose, and they
had furnished him with, the necessary ballot.
"They took in my clothes at a glance,"-said
Clark, "and they seemed to suppose that a man

with butternut homespun was true-blue; so
they did n't ask any questions. I got a Free-
State ballot from another man and was a-goin'
to plump it in; but they were too smart for me,
and over I went. No, don't you worry, I ain't

L-goin' up there to try it ag'in," he said, angrily,
o an insolent horseman, who, riding up, told
him not to venture near the polls again if he
'did not want to be kicked out like a dog."
Come on, neighbor; let's be
goin'," he said to Uncle Aleck.
"I 've had enough voting for to-
day. 'Let 's light out' of this
town." Then the men, taking up
their ox-goads, drove out of town.
They had had their first sight
of the struggle for freedom.



THE military road, of which
I have just spoken, was con-
S structed by the United States
Government to connect the mili-
tary posts of the Far West with
one another. Beginning at Fort
Leavenworth, on the Missouri
''- River, it passed through Fort
Riley at the junction of the forks
of the Kaw, and then, still keep-
ing up the north side of the Re-
publican Fork, went on to Fort
Kearney, still farther west, then
to Fort Laramie, which in those
days was so far on the frontier of
our country that .few people ever
saw it except military men and the
emigrants to California. At the
time of which I am writing, there
had been a very heavy emigration
to California, and companies of
emigrants, bound to the Golden
Land, still occasionally passed
along the great military road.
Interlacing this highway were
innumerable trails and wagon-
tracks, the traces of the great
OVER THE CABIN. migration to the Eldorado of the
Pacific; and here and there were the narrow trails
made by Indians on their hunting expeditions and
warlike excursions. Roads, such as our emi-
grants had been accustomed to in Illinois, there
were none. First came the faint traces of human



feet and of unshod horses and ponies; then the
well-defined trail of hunters, trappers, and In-
dians; then the wagon-track of the military
trains, which, in course of time, were smoothed
and formed into the military road kept in repair
by the United States Government.
Following this road the Dixon emigrants came
upon the broad, bright, and shallow stream of
the Big Blue. Fording this, they drove into the
rough, new settlement of Manhattan, lately built
at the junction of the Blue and the Kaw rivers.
It was a beautiful May day when the travelers
entered Manhattan. It was an active and a
promising town. Some attempt at the laying
out of streets had been made. A long, low
building, occupied as a hotel, was actually
painted, and on some of the shanties and rude
huts of the newly arrived settlers were signs
giving notice of hardware, groceries, and other
commodities for sale within. On one structure,
partly made of sawed boards and partly of can-
vas, was painted in sprawling letters, "Coun-
sellor at Law."
"You '11 find those fellows out in the Indian
country," grimly remarked one of the settlers,
as the party surveyed this evidence of an ad-
vancing civilization.
There was a big steam saw-mill hard by the
town, and the chief industry of Manhattan
seemed to be the buying and selling of lumber
and hardware, and the surveying of land.
Mounted men, carrying the tools and instru-
ments of the surveyor, galloped about. Few
wheeled vehicles except the ox-carts of emi-
grants were to be seen anywhere, and the gen-
eral aspect of the place was that of feverish
activity. Along the banks of the two streams
were camped parties of the latest comers, many
of whom had brought their wives and children
with them. Parties made up of men only, sel-
dom came as far west as this. They pitched
their tents nearer the Missouri, where the fight
for freedom raged most hotly, A few com-
panies of men did reach the westernmost
edge of the new settlements, and the Man-
hattan Company was one of these.
The three boys from Illinois were absorbed
with wonder as they strolled around the new
town, taking in the novel sights, as they would
if they had been in a great city, instead of a

mushroom town that had arisen in a night.
During their journey from Libertyville to Man-
hattan, the Dixon emigrants had lost sight of
John Clark, of Woburn; he had hurried on
ahead after his rough experience with the
election guardians of Libertyville. The boys
were wondering if he had reached Manhattan.
Hullo! There he is now, with all his fam-
ily around him," said Charlie. He 's got here
before us, and can tell all about the lay of the
land to the west of us, I dare say."
"I have about made up my mind to squat
on Hunter's Creek," said Clark, when the boys
had saluted him. Pretty good land on Hun-
ter's, so I am told; no neighbors, and the land
has been surveyed off by the Government sur-
veyors. Hunter's Creek ? Well, that 's about
six miles above the fort. It makes into the
Republican, and, so they tell me, there 's plenty
of wood along the creek, and a good lot of oak
and hickory not far off. Timber is what we all
want, you know."
As for Bartlett, who had come out from New
England with the Clarks, he was inclined to
go to the lower side of the Republican Fork,
taking to the Smoky Hill country. That was
the destination of the Jenness party, who had
passed the Dixon boys when they were camped
after their upset in the creek, several days be-
fore. This would leave the Clarks-John and
his wife and two children, and his brother Jo-
tham, and Jotham's boy, Pelatiah-to make a
settlement by themselves on Hunter's Creek.
Which way were the Dixon boys going?
Charlie, the spokesman of the party because
he was the eldest, did not know. His father
and uncle were out prospecting among the
campers now. Sandy was sure that they would
go up the Republican Fork. His father had
met one of the settlers from that region, and
had been very favorably impressed with his
report. This Republican Fork man was an
Arkansas man, but "a good fellow," so Sandy
said. To be a good fellow, according to
Sandy's way of putting things, was to be
worthy of all confidence and esteem.
Mr. Bryant thought that as there were grow-
ing rumors of troublesome Indians, it would be
better to take the southern or Smoky Hill
route; the bulk of the settlers were going that



way, and where there were large numbers,
there would be safety. While the lads were
talking with the Clarks, Bryant and his bro-
ther-in-law came up, and, after greeting their
former acquaintance and ascertaining .whither
he was bound, Mr. Howell told the boys that
they had been discussing the advantages of
the two routes with Younkins, the settler from
Republican Fork, and had decided to go on to
"the post," as Fort Riley was generally called,
and there decide which way they should go-
to the right or to the left.
As for the Clarks, they were determined to


\ "'till, -

/ k ^ .'

had in mind for them. Younkins was a kindly
and pleasant-faced man, simple in his speech and
frontier-like in his manners. Sandy conceived a
strong liking for him as soon as they met. The
boy and the man were friends at once.
"Well, you see," said Younkins, sitting down
on the wagon-tongue, when the party had re-
turned to their camp, "I have been thinking
over-like the matter that we were talking about,
and I have made up my mind-like that I sha'n't
move back to my claim on the south side of
the Republican. I 'm on the north side, you
know, and my old claim on the south side will


take the trail for Hunter's Creek that very day.
Bartlett decided to go to the Smoky Hill coun-
try. He cast in his lot with a party of Western
men, who had heard glowing reports of the
fertility and beauty of the region lying along
Solomon's Fork, a tributary of the Smoky Hill.
It was in this way that parties split up after
they had entered the promised land.
Leaving the Clarks to hitch up their teams
and part company with Bartlett, the Dixon
party returned to their camp, left temporarily
in the care of Younkins, who had come to
Manhattan for a few supplies, and who had
offered to guide the others to the desirable
place for settlement which he told them he

do just right for my brother Ben; he 's coming
out in the fall. Now if you want to go up our
way, you can have the cabin on that claim.
There 's nobody living in it; it's no great of
a cabin, but it 's built of hewed timber, well-
chinked and comfortable-like. You can have
it till Ben comes out, and I 'm just a-keeping it
for Ben, you know. P'r'aps he won't want it, and
if he does n't, why then you and he can make
some kind of a dicker-like, and you might stay
on till you could do better."
"That's a very generous offer of Mr. Youn-
kins's, Charles," said Mr. Howell to Bryant. I
don't believe we could do better than take it up."
No, indeed," burst in the impetuous Sandy.


"Why, just think of it! A house already
built! "
Little boys should be seen, not heard," said
his elder brother, reprovingly. "Suppose you
and I wait to see what the old folks have to say
before we chip in with any remarks."
Oh, I know what Uncle Charlie will say,"
replied the lad, undismayed. "He '11 say that
the Smoky Hill road is the road to take. Say,
Uncle Charlie, you see that Mr. Younkins here
is willing to live all alone on the bank of the
Republican Fork, without any neighbors at all.
He is n't afraid of Indians."
Mr. Bryant smiled and said that he was not
afraid of Indians, but he thought that there
might come a time when it would be desirable
for a community to stand together as one man.
"Are you a Free State man ? he asked Youn-
kins. This was a home-thrust. Younkins came
from a slave State; he was probably a pro-
slavery man.
I 'm neither a Free State man nor yet a pro-
slavery man," he said, slowly and with great
deliberation. I 'm just for Younkins all the
time. Fact is," he continued, where I came
from, most of us are pore whites; I never
owned but one darky, and I had him from
my grandfather. Ben and me, we sort er quar-
reled-like over that darky. Ben, he thought
he ought 'er had him, and I knowed my grand-
father left him to me. So I sold him off, and
the neighbors did n't seem to like it. I don't
justly know why they did n't like it; but they
did n't. Then Ben, he allowed that I had
better light out. So I lit out, and here I am.
No, I 'm no Free State man, and then ag'in,
I 'm no man for slavery. I 'm just for Youn-
kins. Solomon Younkins is my name."
Bryant was very clearly prejudiced in favor
of the settler from the Republican Fork by this
speech; and yet he thought it best to move on
to the fort that day and take the matter into
So he said that if Younkins would accept the
hospitality of their tent, the Dixon party would
be glad to have him pass the night with them.
Younkins had a horse on which he had ridden
down from his place and with which he had
intended to reach home that night. But, for
the sake of inducing the new arrivals to go up

into his part of the country, he was willing to
I should think you would be afraid to leave
your wife and baby all alone there in the wilder-
ness," said Sandy, regarding his new friend with
evident admiration. No neighbor nearer than
Hunter's Creek, did you say ? How far off is
that ? "
"Well, a matter of six miles-like," replied
Younkins. It is n't often that I do leave them
alone over night; but then I have to, once in a
while. My old woman, she does n't mind it; she
was sort of skeary-like when she first came into
the country. But she 's got used to it. We
don't want any neighbors. If you folks come
up to settle, you '11 be on the other side of the
river," he said, with unsmiling candor. "That 's
near enough- three or four miles, anyway."
Fort Riley is about ten miles from Manhattan,
at the forks of the Kaw. It was a long drive
for one afternoon; but the settlers from Illinois
camped on the edge of the military reservation
that night. When the boys, curious to see what
the fort was like, looked over the premises next
morning, they were somewhat disappointed to
find that the post was merely a quadrangle of
buildings constructed of rough-hammered stone.
A few frame houses were scattered about. One
of these was the sutler's store, just on the edge
of the reservation. But, for the most part, the
post consisted of two- or three-story buildings
arranged in the form of a hollow square. These
were barracks, officers' quarters, and depots for
the storage of military supplies and army equip-
"Why, this is no fort! said Oscar, con-
temptuously. "There is n't even a stockade.
What's to prevent a band of Indians raiding
through the whole place? I could take it
myself, if I had men enough."
His cousin Charlie laughed and said: Forts
are not built out here nowadays to defend a
garrison. The army men don't propose to let
the Indians get near enough to the post to
threaten it. The fact is, I guess, this fort is only
a depot-like, as our friend Younkins would say,
for the soldiers and for military stores. They
don't expect ever to be besieged here; but if
there should happen to be trouble anywhere
along the frontier, then the soldiers would be


here, ready to fly out to the rescue, don't you
see ?"
"Yes," answered Sandy; "and when a part of
the garrison had gone to the rescue, as you call
it, another party of redskins would swoop down
and gobble up the remnant left at the post."
If I were you, Master Sandy," said his
brother, I would n't worry about the soldiers.
Uncle Sam built this fort, and there are lots of
others like it. I don't know for sure, but my
impression is that Uncle Sam knows what is
best for the use of the military and for the
defense of the frontier. So let 's go and take a
look at the sutler's store. I want to buy some
The sutler, in those days, was a very impor-
tant person in the estimation of the soldiers of a
frontier post. Under a license from the War
Department of the Government, he kept a store
in which was everything that the people at the
post could possibly need. Crowded into the
long building of the Fort Riley sutler were dry-
goods, groceries, hardware, boots and shoes,
window-glass, rope and twine, and even candy
of a very poor sort. Hanging from the ceiling
of this queer warehouse were sides of smoked
meat, strings of onions, oil-cloth suits, and other
things that were designed for the comfort or
convenience of the officers and soldiers, and
were not provided by the Government.
"I wonder what soldiers want of calico and
ribbons," whispered Sandy, with a suppressed
giggle, as the three lads went prying about.
Officers and soldiers have their wives and
children here, you greeny" said his brother,
sharply. "Look out there and see 'em."
And, sure enough, as Sandy's eyes followed
the direction of his brother's, he saw two prettily
dressed ladies and a group of children walking
over the smooth turf that filled the square in
the midst of the fort. It gave Sandy a home-
sick feeling, this sight of a home in the wilder-
ness. Here were families of grown people and
children, living apart from the rest of the world.
They had been here long before the echo of civil
strife in Kansas had reached the Eastern States,
and before the first wave of emigration had
touched the head-waters of the Kaw. Here
they were, a community by themselves, uncar-
ing, apparently, whether slavery was voted up

or down. At least, some such thought as this
flitted through Sandy's mind as he looked out
upon the leisurely life of the fort, just beginning
to stir.
All along the outer margin of the reservation
were grouped the camps of emigrants; not many
of them, but enough to present a curious and
picturesque sight. There were a few tents, but
most of the emigrants slept in or under their
wagons. There were no women or children in
these camps, and the hardy men had been so
well seasoned by their past experiences, jour-
neying to this far western part of the Territory,
that they did not mind the exposure of sleeping on
the ground and under the open skies. Soldiers
from the fort, off duty and curious to hear the
news from the outer world, came lounging
around the camps and chatted with the emi-
grants in that cool, superior manner that marks
the private soldier when he meets a civilian on
an equal footing, away from the haunts of men.
The boys regarded these uniformed military
servants of the Government of the United States
with great respect, and even with some awe.
These, they thought to themselves, were the
men who were there to fight Indians, to protect
the border, and to keep back the rising tide of
wild hostilities that might, if it were not for
them, sweep down upon the feeble Territory
and even inundate the whole Western country.
Perhaps some of Black Hawk's descendants
are among the Indians on this very frontier,"
said Oscar, impressively. "And these gold-laced
chaps, with shoulder-straps on, are the Zack
Taylors and the Robert Andersons who do the
fighting," added Charlie, with a laugh.
Making a few small purchases from the surly
sutler of Fort Riley, and then canvassing with
the emigrants around the reservation the ques-
tion of routes and locations, our friends passed
the forenoon. The elders of the party had
anxiously discussed the comparative merits of
the Smoky Hill and the Republican Fork coun-
try and had finally yielded to the attractions of
a cabin ready-built in Younkins's neighborhood,
with a garden patch attached, and had decided
to go in that direction.
This is simply bully said Sandy Howell, as
the little caravan turned to the right and drove
up the north bank of the Republican Fork.




There was an old farmer who had a cow,
Moo, moo, moo!
She used to stand on the pump and bow,
And what could the farmer do?
Moo, moo, moo, moo,
Moo, moo, moo!
0She used to stand on the pump and bow,
P And what could the farmer do ?

|~ ~ ~ ~ -- -_- ^ ^ ^ ^: ---

There was an old farmer who owned some sheep,
Baa, baa, baa!
They used to play cribbage while he was asleep,
And laugh at the farmer's ma.
Baa, baa, baa, baa!
SMoo, moo, moo!
He owned a cow and he owned some sheep,
And what could the poor man do?

--_-_ -..% .,,.-- ,- :.

__ C_

9 O'P

There was an old farmer who owned a pig,
) Whoof, whoof, whoof!
He used to dress up in the farmer's wig,
And dance on the pig-pen roof
SWhoof, whoof! Baa, baa!
Moo, moo, moo!
He owned a pig, some sheep, and a cow,
SAnd what could the poor man do?

--- :---~7-

1' : I;i


. ^. -^Y

There was an old farmer who owned a hen,
Cuk-a-ca-doo, ca-doo!
She used to lay eggs for the three hired men,
And some for the weasel, too.
Cuk-a-ca-doo! Whoof, whoof!
Baa, baa! Moo!
He owned a hen, pig, sheep, and a cow,
And what could the poor man do ?

There was an old farmer who had a duck,
Quack, quack, quack!
She waddled under a two-horse truck
For four long miles and back.
Quack, quack! Cuk-a-ca-doo!
Whoof! Baa! Moo!
With a duck, hen, pig, a sheep, and a cow,
Pray what could the poor man do?



2k `

There was an .old farmer who had a cat,
Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow!
She used to waltz with 'a gray old rat
By night in the farmer's mow.
Mee-ow! Quack! Cuk-a-ca-doo!
Whoof! Baa! Moo! ____-___-- -
With cat, duck, hen, pig, sheep, and a cow,
Pray what could the poor man do?

U. "
) ,a..~ ____

..--.....,.- ::~-sT~:i L" )
II i-..




WHEN Paichoux read of the death of Madame
Jozain in the charity hospital, he said decidedly,
" Modeste, that woman never left the city. She
never went to Texas. She has been hidden
here all the time, and I must find that child."
"And if you find her, Papa, bring her right
here to me," said the kind-hearted woman.
" We have several children, it's true; but there's
always room for Lady Jane, and I love the little
girl as well as if she was mine."
Paichoux was gone nearly all day, and, much
to the disappointment of the whole family, he
did not find Lady Jane.
His first visit had been to the charity hospital,
where he learned that Madame Jozain had been
brought there a few days before by the charity
wagon. It had been called to a miserable little
cabin back of the city, where they had found
the woman very ill, with no one to care for her,
and destitute of every necessity. There was
no child with her -she was quite alone; and
in the few lucid intervals that preceded her
death she had never spoken of any child.
Paichoux then obtained the address from the
driver of the charity wagon, and, after some
search, he found the wretched neighborhood.
There, all they could tell him was that the
woman had come a few weeks before; that she
had brought very little with her, and appeared
to be in ill-health. There was no child with her
then, and none of the neighbors had ever seen
one visit her, or, for that matter, a grown person
either. When she became worse, they were
afraid she might die alone, and had called the
charity wagon to take her to the hospital. The
Public Administrator had taken charge of what
little property she had left, and that was all they
could tell.
Did any one know where she lived before she

came there ? No one knew; an old negro had
brought her, and her few things, and they had
not noticed the number of his wagon. The
landlord of the squalid place said that the same
old man who brought her had engaged her
room; he did not know the negro. Madame
had paid a month's rent in advance, and just
when the month was up she had been carried
to the hospital.
There the information stopped, and, in spite
of every effort, Paichoux could learn no more.
The wretched woman had indeed obliterated,
as it were, every trace of the child. In her fear
of detection, after Lady Jane's escape from her,
she had moved from place to place, hunted
and pursued by a guilty conscience that would
never allow her to rest, and gradually going
from bad to worse, until she had died in that
last refuge for the miserable, the charity
"And here I am, just where I started! said
Paichoux, dejectedly, after he had told Tante
Modeste of his day's adventures. However,"
said he, I sha'n't give it up. I 'm bound to
find out what she did with that child. The more
I think of it, the more I 'm convinced that she
never went to Texas, and that the child is still
here. Now, I 've a mind to visit every orphan
asylum in the city, and see if I can't find her in
one of them."
"I '11 go with you," said Tante Modeste.
"We '11 see for ourselves, and then we shall
be satisfied. Unless she gave the child away,
Lady Jane 's likely to be in some such place;
and I think, as I always have, Paichoux, that
she stole Lady Jane from some rich family,
and that was why she ran off so suddenly and
hid. That lady's coming the day after, proves
that some one was on Madame's track. Oh,
I tell you there 's a mystery there, if we can
only get at it! We 'll start out to-morrow and
see what can be done. I sha'n't rest until

the child is found and restored to her own
One morning, while Lady Jane was in the
school-room, busy with her lessons, Margaret
entered with some visitors. It was a very
common thing for people to come during study
hours, and the child did not look up until she
heard some one say: "These are the children
of that age; see if you recognize Lady Jane'
among them."
It was her old name that startled her, and
made her turn suddenly toward the man and
woman who were looking eagerly
about the room. In an instant
the bright-faced woman cried,
"Yes! yes! Oh, there she is";
and simultaneously, Lady Jane
exclaimed, "Tante Modeste, oh,
Tante Modeste!" and quicker
than I can tell it, she was clasped
to the loving heart of her old
friend, while Paichoux looked
on, twirling his hat and smiling
"Jane, you can come with us,"
said Margaret, as she led the
way to the parlor.
There was a long and inter-
esting conversation, to which the
child listened with grave wonder,
while she nestled close to Tante
Modeste. She did not under-
stand all they said; there was a
great deal about Madame Jozain
and Good Children Street, and
a gold watch with diamond in-
itials, and beautiful linen with the initial letter
J. C. embroidered on it, and Madame's sudden
flight, and the visit of the elegant lady ii
the fine carriage, the Texas story, and Ma
dame's wretched hiding place, and miser
able death in the charity hospital; to all ol
which Margaret listened with surprise anc
interest. Then she in turn told the Paichou)
how Lady Jane had been found looking
in the window on Christmas Eve, while sh(
clung to the railings, half clad and suffering witi
the cold, and how she had questioned her ant
endeavored to get some clew to her identity.
Why did n't you tell Mother Margaret about

your friends in Good Children Street, my dear ?"
asked Tante Modeste, with one of her bright
Lady Jane hesitated a moment, and then re-
plied timidly, Because I was afraid."
What were you afraid of, my child ? asked
Paichoux kindly.
"Tante Pauline told me that I must n't."
Then she stopped and looked wistfully at Mar-
garet. Must I tell now, Mother Margaret ? Will
it be right to tell ? Tante Pauline told me not
to," she asked, eagerly.


s "Yes, my dear, you can tell everything now.
SIt's right, you must tell us all you remember."
"Tante Pauline told me that I must never,
- never speak of Good Children Street, nor of any
- one that lived there, and that I must never tell
f any one my name, nor where I lived."
1 "Poor child!" said Margaret to Paichoux.
x There must have been some serious reason for
r so much secrecy. Yes, I agree with you that
e there 's a mystery which we must try to clear
i up, but I would rather wait a little while. Jane
I has a friend, who is very rich and very influen-
tial,-Mrs. Lanier, the banker's wife. She is
t absent in Washington, and when she returns,




I '11 consult with her and we '11 see what 's
best to be done. I should n't like to take any
important step until then. But in the mean
time, Mr. Paichoux, it will do no harm to put
your plan in operation. I think the idea is
good, and in this way we can work together."
Then Paichoux promised to begin his inves-
tigations at once, for he was certain that they
would bring about some good results, and that
before many months had passed, Mother Mar-
garet would have one orphan less to care for.
While Margaret and Paichoux were discus-
sing these important matters, Tante Modeste
and Lady Jane were talking as fast as their
tongues could fly. The child heard for the
first time about poor Mam'selle Diane's loss,
and her eyes filled with tears of sympathy for
her gentle friend. And then there were Pepsie
and Madelon, Gex and Tite,--did they re-
member her and want to see her? Oh, how
glad she was to hear from them all again. And
Tante Modeste cried a little when Lady Jane
told her of that terrible midnight ride, of the
wretched home to which she had been carried,
of her singing and begging in the streets, of
her cold and hunger-and of the blow she had
received as the crowning cruelty.
But the worst of all was losing Tony. Oh,
Tante Modeste," and the tears sprang to her
eyes, I 'm afraid I '11 never, never find him! "
Yes you will, my dear. I 've faith to be-
lieve you will," replied Tante Modeste, hope-
fully. We 've found you, ma peite, and now
we '11 find the bird. Don't fret about it."
Then, after Margaret had promised to take
Lady Jane to Good Children Street the next
day, the good couple went away, well pleased
with what they had accomplished.
Tante Modeste could not return home until
she had told Pepsie as well as little Gex the
good news, and Mam'selle Diane's sad heart
was greatly cheered to know that the dear
child was safe in the care of the good Mar-
garet. And oh, what bright hopes and plans
filled the lonely hours of that evening, as she
sat dreaming on her little gallery in the pale,
cold moonlight!
The next day, Pepsie cried and laughed
together when Lady Jane sprang into her
arms and embraced her with the old fervor.

"You 're just the same," she said, holding the
child off and looking at her fondly; that is,
your face has n't changed; but I don't like
your hair braided, and I don't like your clothes.
I must get Mother Margaret to let me dress you
as I used to."
And Mam'selle Diane had something of the
same feeling, when, after the first long embrace,
she looked at the child, and asked Mother
Margaret if it was necessary for her to wear the
uniform of the home.
"She must wear it while she is an inmate,"
replied Margaret, smiling. "But that will not
be long, I suspect; we shall lose her-yes, I 'm
afraid we shall lose her soon."
Then, Mam'selle Diane talked a long while
with Margaret, about her hopes and plans for
Lady Jane. "I am all alone," she said, pa-
thetically, and she would give me a new inter-
est in life. If her relatives are not discovered,
why cannot I have her ? I will educate her,
and teach her music, and devote my life to
Margaret promised to think it over, and in
the mean time she consented that Lady Jane
should remain a few days with Mam'selle Diane
and her friends in Good Children Street.
That night, while the child was nestled close
to Mam'selle Diane, as they sat together on the
little moonlit gallery, she suddenly asked with
startling earnestness:
Has your Mamma gone to heaven too,
Mam'selle Diane ? "
I hope so, my darling; I think so," replied
Diane in a choked voice.
Well, then, if she has, she '11 see my Papa
and Mamma and tell them about me, and oh,
Mam'selle, won't they be glad to hear from
me? "
I hope she will tell them how dearly I love
you, and what you are to me," murmured
Mam'selle, pressing her cheek to the bright little
head resting against her shoulder.
Look up there, Mam'selle Diane; do you see

those two beautiful stars so near together? I
always think they are Mamma and Papa watch-
ing me. Now I know Mamma is there too, and
will never come back again; and see, near those
there is another very soft and bright; perhaps
that is your Mamma shining there with them."


Perhaps it is, my dear. Yes, perhaps it is,"
and Mam'selle Diane raised her faded eyes
toward the sky, with new hope and strength
in their calm depths.
About that time Paichoux began a most
laborious correspondence with a fashionable
jeweler in New York, which resulted in some
very valuable information concerning a watch
with a diamond monogram.


IT was a few days before the following Christ-
mas, and Mrs. Lanier, who had just returned
from Washington, was sitting alone one evening
in her own pretty little parlor, when a servant
handed her a card.
"Arthur Maynard," she read. "Let him
come up at once"; and as the servant left the
room, she added to herself: Dear boy! I 'm
so glad he 's come for Christmas."
In a moment the handsome young fellow was
in the room, shaking hands in the most cordial
You see I 'm home, as usual, for the holi-
days, Mrs. Lanier," he said, showing a row of
very white teeth when he laughed.
Yes, you always do come for Christmas and
Mardi-gras, don't you ? You 're such a boy
still, Arthur," and Mrs. Lanier looked at him as
if she approved of his boyishness. "Sit down
and let us have a long chat. The children have
gone to the theater with Mr. Lanier. I was too
tired to go with them. You know we reached
home only this morning."
No; I did n't know that, or I would n't
have come. You don't wish to be bothered
with me when you 're so tired," said Arthur,
Nonsense, Arthur; sit down. You always
cheer me up. You 're so full of life and spirits,
I 'm really glad to see you."
While Mrs. Lanier was speaking, the young
fellow's bright, clear eyes were traveling about
the room, and glancing at everything, pictures,
bric-a-brac, and flowers. Suddenly, he uttered
an exclamation, and, springing up, seized a
photograph in a velvet frame that stood on
a cabinet near him.

It represented a family group: father, mother,
and child; and for a moment he seemed too
surprised to speak. Then he asked in a very
excited tone, Mrs. Lanier, where did you get
this, and who is the lady ? "
"She is a friend of mine," said Mrs. Lanier,
much surprised. "Why do you ask-have
you ever seen her?"
Yes, yes; and I have a copy of this picture.
It is such a strange story; but first, before I
say a word, please tell me who she is, and all
about her."
"Why, Arthur, you seem greatly interested,"
returned Mrs. Lanier, with a smile. "The lady
is my dear friend, Jane Chetwynd. We were
classmates at boarding-school in New York;
her father is the rich Mr. Chetwynd. You
have heard of him, have n't you ?"
"Yes, indeed; but please go on."
"Do you want all the history ? "
"Everything, please. I 've a serious reason
for wanting to know all about the originals of
this photograph."
"Well, the gentleman is Jane's husband, Mr.
Churchill, an Englishman, and the little girl is
'Lady Jane,' their only child. There 's quite
a romance connected with Jane's history, and
I 'm just now floundering in a sea of darkness
in regard to that same Jane Chetwynd."
"If you please, go on, and perhaps I can
help you out," urged the young man, eagerly
and abruptly.
Well, as it's a subject I 'm greatly interested
in, I don't mind telling you the whole story.
Jane Chetwynd was the only daughter-her
mother died when she was a child. Jane was
her father's idol, he had great plans for her, and
when she was only eighteen he hoped she would
marry one of the rich Bindervilles. Jane, how-
ever, married a young Englishman who was in
her father's employ. The young man was hand-
some, as you can see by his picture, well born,
and well educated; but he was unknown and
poor. To Richard Chetwynd that was unpar-
donable, and, therefore, he disowned Jane-cut
her off entirely, refused to see her, or even to
allow her name to be mentioned.
A cousin of Mr. Churchill, who lived in
England, owned a fine ranch in Texas, and
there the young couple went to pass their


honeymoon. They were delighted with the
ranch, and decided to make it a permanent
"Their little girl was born there, and was
named for her mother. On account of some
dainty little ways, and to avoid confusing her
name and her mother's, her father called her
Lady Jane.
"In her frequent letters to me, my friend
spoke of her as a remarkable child, and, of
course, she was the idol of her parents. In
spite of the trouble with her father, Jane never
regretted her choice, and even her isolated life
had many charms for her. She was of a quiet,
domestic disposition, and loved the country.
Indeed, I know her life there was one of idyllic
happiness. When the child was three years old,
Jane sent me that picture; then, about two more
years passed during which time I heard from
her frequently, and after that, suddenly, the cor-
respondence stopped. I was in Europe for a
year, and when I returned, I set to work to find
out the cause. Many letters were returned from
San Antonio, the nearest post-office; but finally
we succeeded in communicating with the over-
seer on the ranch, who informed us that Mr.
Churchill had died suddenly of a prevalent
fever, the summer before--more than two
years ago, now- and that Mrs. Churchill, with
her little girl, had left the ranch directly after her
husband's death to return to New York, since
which time he had received no news of her; and
in his letter the overseer also expressed surprise
at her long silence, as he said she had left many
valuable things that were to be sent to her
when and where she should direct, after she
reached New York; he had since received no in-
structions and the property was still in Texas.
"Then I wrote directly to New York, to a
friend who was very intimate at one time with
the Chetwynds, for some information about
Jane; but she could tell me nothing more than
the newspapers told me, that Richard Chetwynd
had gone abroad, to remain some years. Of
Jane, I could not hear a word.
Sometimes, I think she may have followed
her father to Europe, and that they are recon-
ciled and living there together. But why does
she not write to me-to the friend whom she
always loved so dearly?

"Then, there is another thing that has wor-
ried me no little, although in itself it is a trifle.
When we were at school together, I had a little
birthday gift made at Tiffany's for Jane, a silver
jewel-box, engraved with pansies and forget-me-
nots, and a lot of school-girl nonsense. I made
the design myself, and the design for the mono-
gram also. About a year ago I found that very
box for sale at Madame Hortense's, on Canal
Street. When I asked Hortense where she got
it, she told me that it was left with her to sell by
a woman who lived down town on Good Chil-
dren Street; and she gave me the name and the
address; but when I went there, after a day or
two, the woman had gone-left mysteriously
in the night, and none of the neighbors could tell
me where she went. Of course the woman's sud-
den disappearance made me feel that there was
something wrong about her, and I can't help
thinking that she got the little box dishonestly.
It may have been stolen, either in Texas or in
New York, and finally drifted here for sale. I
took possession of it at once, very thankful that
such a precious relic of my girlhood should
have accidentally fallen into my hands; but
every time I look at it, I feel that it is a key
which might unlock a mystery, if only I knew
how to use it."
All the while Mrs. Lanier was speaking, Ar-
thur Maynard followed every word with bright,
questioning eyes, and eager, intense interest.
Sometimes he seemed about to interrupt her;
then he closed his lips firmly and continued to
Mrs. Lanier was looking at him inquiringly,
and when he waited as if to hear more, she said :
" I have told you all. Now, what have you to
tell me ? "
Something quite as strange as anything you
have told me," replied Arthur Maynard, with an
enigmatical air. You must not think you 're
the only one with a mystery worthy the skill of
a Parisian detective. If I had any such talent,
I might make myself famous, with your clues
and my clues together."
What in the world do you mean, Arthur?
What do you know ?- for pity's sake tell me!
You can't think how Jane Chetwynd's long
silence distresses me."
Fool that I was! cried the young fellow,

jumping up and pacing the room with a half
tragic air. "If I had n't been an idiot--a
simpleton-a gosling-if I 'd had a spark of
sense, I could have brought that same Jane
Chetwynd, and the adorable little Lady Jane,
straight to your door. Instead of that, I let
them get off the train at Gretna alone, when
it was nearly dark, and- Heaven only knows
what happened to them! "
"Arthur Maynard, what do you mean?"
asked Mrs. Lanier, rising to her feet, pale and
trembling. When- where- where is she
now where is Jane Chetwynd ? "
"I wish I knew. I 'm as wretched and
anxious as you are, Mrs. Lanier, and what
has happened to-day has quite upset me; but
I must tell you my story, as you have told
And then, while Mrs. Lanier listened with
clasped hands and intent gaze, Arthur Maynard
told of the meeting with Lady Jane and her
mother on the train, of the gift of Tony," the
blue heron, and of the separation at Gretna.
Oh, Arthur, why-why did n't you go with
them, and bring them to me ? She was a stran-
ger, and she did n't know the way, and-your
being our friend and all."
My dear Mrs. Lanier, she never mentioned
your name or number. How could I guess you
were the friend to whom she was going? and
I did n't like to seem presuming."
But where did she go ? She never came
here! "
Wait till I have told you the rest and then
we will discuss that. I stood on the platform
until the train started, and watched them walk-
ing toward the ferry, the mother very feebly,
and the child skipping along with the little bas-
ket, delighted with her new possession. Then I
went back to my seat, angry enough at myself
because I was n't with them, when what should
I see on the floor, under their seat, but a book
they had left. I have it now, and I 'll bring it
to you to-morrow; inside of the book was a
photograph, a duplicate of this, and on the fly-
leaf was written 'Jane Chetwynd.' "
"I thought so! I knew it was Jane !" ex-
claimed Mrs. Lanier, excitedly. But she never
came here. Where could she have gone ? "
That's the mystery. She may have changed

her mind and gone to a hotel, or something may
have happened to her. I don't know. I don't
like to think of it However, the next day, I ad-
vertised the book, and advertised it for a week;
but it was never claimed, and from that day to
this, I 've never been able to discover either the
mother or the child."
"How strange, how very strange !" said Mrs.
Lanier, greatly troubled. Why should she
have changed her mind so suddenly? If she
had started to come to me, why did n't she
come ?"
"The only reasonable solution to the prob-
lem is that she changed her mind and went on
to New York by the night train. She evidently
did not go to a hotel, for I have looked over all
the hotel registers of that time, and her name
does not appear on any of them. So far there
is nothing very mysterious; she might have
taken the night train."
Oh, Arthur, she probably did. Why do
you say, she might have? "
"Because, you see, I have a sequel to my
story. You had a sequel to yours, a sequel of
a box. Mine is a sequel of a bird,- the blue
heron I gave the little Lady Jane. I bought
that same blue heron from a bird-fancier on
Charter Street this very morning."
How can you be sure that it is the same
bird, Arthur ? How can you be sure ?"
Because it was marked in a peculiar way.
It had three distinct black crosses on one wing.
I knew the rogue as soon as I saw him, al-
though he has grown twice the size, and-
would you believe it?-he has the same
leather band on his leg that I sewed on more
than two years ago."
And you found out where the fancier
bought him ? asked Mrs. Lanier, breathlessly.
Of course I asked, the first thing; but all
the information I could get from the merchant
was that he bought him from an Italian a few
days before, who was very anxious to sell him.
When I called the bird by his name, Tony, he
recognized it instantly. So you see that he has
probably been called by that name."
"The child must have lost him, or he must
have been stolen. Then, the box, the jewel-
box here, too. Good heavens! Arthur, what
can it mean?"




"It means that Mrs. Churchill never left
New Orleans," said Arthur, decidedly.
My dear Arthur, you alarm me!" cried
Mrs. Lanier. There is something dreadful
behind all this. Go on and tell me everything
you know."
Well, after I bought the bird, and while I
was writing my address for the man to send
him home, a funny little old Frenchman came
in, and suddenly pounced on Tony, and began
to jabber in the most absurd way. I thought
he was crazy at first; but after a while, I made
him understand that the heron belonged to me;
and when I had calmed him down somewhat, I
gathered from his remarks that this identical
blue heron had been the property of one leetle
lady,' who formerly lived on Good Children
Good Children Street," interrupted Mrs.
Lanier, opening her eyes. What a remark-
able coincidence!"
"-That the bird had been lost, and that he
had searched everywhere to find it for the leetle
lady.' Then I asked him for a description of
the leetle lady,' and, as I live, Mrs. Lanier, he
described that child to the life," and Arthur
Maynard pointed to the photograph as he
Oh, Arthur, can it be that Jane Chetwynd
is dead? What else can it mean ? Where is
the child ? I must see her. Will you go with
me to Good Children Street early to-morrow ? "
Certainly, Mrs. Lanier. But she is not
there. The old man told me a long story of a
Madame Jozain, who ran away with the child."
"Madame Jozain !" cried Mrs. Lanier ex-
citedly-" the same woman who had the
"Evidently the same, and we are on her
track,- or we should be if she were alive; but,

unfortunately, she 's dead. The little French-
man says so, and he says the child is now in
Mother Margaret's Orphans' Home. I meant
to go there to-day."
Oh, I see it all now. It is as clear as day
to me cried Mrs. Lanier, springing from her
chair and walking excitedly back and forth.
" It is all explained -the mysterious attraction
I felt for that child from the first. Her eyes,
her voice, her smile are Jane Chetwynd's. Ar-
thur, would you know her if you saw her? "
"Certainly. She has n't grown out of my
recollection in two years, though of course she
may not resemble the photograph so much.
You see it is four or five years since that was
taken; but she can't have changed in two years
so that I won't know her, and I 'm very sure
also that she 'll remember me."
"Well, come to-morrow at eleven, and I
think I can have her here. The lovely child
in Margaret's Home, in whom I have felt
such an interest, must be the one. Her name
is Jane. I will write to Mother Margaret at once,
to bring her here to-morrow morning, and
Arthur, if you can identify her, she is Jane
Chetwynd's child without a doubt;- but Jane
-poor Jane! what has happened to her? It
is a mystery, and I shall never rest until it is
"And perhaps you will hate me for my stu-
pidity," replied Arthur, looking very much cast
down, as he shook hands and said good-night.
"No, no, my dear boy. You were not in the
least to blame, and perhaps your generosity in
giving Lady Jane the blue heron may be the
means of restoring her to her friends."
Thinking the matter over from Mrs. Lanier's
point of view, Arthur went away somewhat
comforted, but still very anxious about the de-
velopments the next day might bring forth.

(To be concluded.)




r V

<.- -*--



,* *

P r ,




". .


F s
i~nr~ : -

" 2-



ON a certain day, a little over four hundred
years ago, two boys walked homeward through
the streets of the beautiful city of Florence. The
name of one of the boys was Francesco Gra-
nacci, who was then a pupil of the leading pain-
ter of the city, Domenico Ghirlandajo. The
name of the other boy, who had that day, in
company with his friend, made his first visit to
the great artist's studio, was Michael Angelo.
This was a great day for Michael Angelo.
For months and years he had dreamed of being
an artist, and now for the first time he had seen
and spoken to the famous teacher, watched the
work of the pupils gathered in the studio.
Had it been left to his choice, Michael Angelo
would have joined the school the next morning.
But he had no reason to believe his father would
allow him to take up paint brushes instead of
going into a profession, or the woolen trade,
like his brothers.
In fact, it was because his parents, who were
of some rank in Florence, though with little
wealth, had planned for him a great position in
law or politics, that Angelo had been sent to an
academy where it was expected he would get a
good education. But instead of studying his
books, Angelo made chalk drawings on the walls
and floor of his room. This greatly disappointed
his father, who first rebuked him, and then, when
the lessons were persistently neglected for the
pictures, added a flogging. The whole family
was worried about the boy's obstinate wish to
be an artist. This was why the lad, elated by
his visit to the art-school, was still doubtful
of the effect his enthusiasm might produce at
This enthusiasm would have had little influ-
ence with Michael Angelo's father, but for one
important fact. This important fact was that
the boy's drawings had extraordinary merit.
Nobody, not even the annoyed brothers and
VOL. XVIII.-2o. 2

uncles who made such continued remonstrance,
denied that they were remarkable. So that
something more eloquent than Michael Angelo's
spoken arguments was constantly pleading his
cause. Perceiving that his son had not merely
great energy, and great hopes, but great natural
aptitude for art, the father finally gave up his
own cherished plans, and permitted Michael An-
gelo to become an apprentice of Ghirlandajo.
When this long-desired permission was given,
Michael Angelo was just passing his thirteenth
birthday. How much confidence the master
had in his new apprentice is shown by the fact
that instead of exacting a fee, or taking him on
trial, he agreed to pay Michael Angelo six gold
florins for the first year, eight for the second,
and ten for the third. From the outset, the
young artist pursued his studies, as well as the
apprentice work assigned to him, with the ut-
most earnestness and activity. His progress in
drawing astonished his companions, and almost
bewildered his master, who one day exclaimed
on seeing one of Angelo's original sketches:
" The boy already knows more about art than I
do myself."
At this time the control of the Florentine
government was in the hands of Lorenzo de'
Medici, then probably the most distinguished
man in all Italy. Lorenzo took a most tyranni-
cal view of the people's rights, and his personal
habits were not always what they should have
been. But he was a man with a brilliant mind,
who made great and successful efforts to increase
the splendor of the city, and who came to
be called Lorenzo the Magnificent. He gave
every encouragement to art and literature,
particularly when they might extend his own
reputation for magnificence. His taste and
judgment in matters of art were equal to his
shrewdness and courage as a politician. Dur-
ing the time of Michael Angelo's apprenticeship,


Lorenzo formed new plans for furthering art
study in the gardens of San Marco, in which he
placed many valuable examples of the ancient
masters. When Lorenzo suggested to Ghirlan-
dajo the sending of worthy pupils to study
sculpture in these gardens, the master selected
Michael Angelo and his friend Francesco.
It has frequently been said that the Florentine
teacher was jealous of Michael Angelo's genius
as a draughtsman, and was prompted by this
feeling, in turning the lad from painting to
sculpture. Ghirlandajo had certainly received
some occasion for irritation, since the apprentice
was always very positive in his opinions, and,
on one occasion, at least, went so far as to cor-
rect a drawing which the master himself had
given to one of his pupils as a model. Yet there
is no evidence of any unkindly feeling in Ghir-
landajo's recommendation. It is quite probable
that Michael Angelo had shown a strong lean-
ing toward sculpture. At any rate, he was as
delighted to find himself in the gardens of San
Marco as if he had been dropped into the Gar-
den of Eden.
One afternoon, the Duke Lorenzo in walking
through the garden came upon young Michael
Angelo, who was busily chiseling his first piece
of sculpture. The Duke saw in the stone the
face of a faun which the boy was copying from
an antique mask, but which, with his usual im-
patience of imitation, he was changing so as to
show the open lips and teeth. "How is it,"
said the Duke, drawing closer, that you have
given your faun a complete set of teeth ? Don't
you know that such an old fellow was sure to
have lost some of them ? Michael Angelo at
once saw the justice of the criticism. Art-
ists are not always ready to receive adverse
comment. Michael Angelo himself was quick-
tempered and hard to move. A hot word to
one of his boy companions on a certain occasion
brought so severe a blow in the face, that all
truthful portraits of Michael Angelo have since
had to show him with a broken nose. But the
Duke's criticism was kindly given, and was
plainly warranted, and the young sculptor could
hardly wait until the Duke walked on before
beginning the correction. When the Duke saw
the faun's face again he found some of the teeth
gone, and the empty sockets skilfully chiseled out.

Delighted with this evidence of the lad's will-
ingness to seize and act upon a suggestion, and
impressed anew by his artistic skill, the Duke
made inquiries, learned that Michael Angelo
had borrowed stone and tools on his own ac-
count in his eagerness to begin sculpture (he
was first set at drawing from the statuary), and
ended by sending for the boy's father. The
result of the consultation was that the Duke
took Michael Angelo under his own special
patronage and protection, and was so well
pleased after he had done it that no favor
seemed too great to bestow upon the energetic
young artist. Michael Angelo, then only fif-
teen, not only received a key to the Garden
of Sculpture, and an apartment in the Medici
Palace itself, but had a place at the Duke's
table. In fact, a real attachment grew up be-
tween Michael Angelo and the Duke, who fre-
quently called the boy to his own rooms, when
he would open a cabinet of gems and intaglios,
seek his young visitor's opinions, and enter into
long and confidential talks.
Michael Angelo found himself in the com-
pany of the best instructors, and otherwise sur-
rounded by many influences that developed his
mind and incited his ambition. The most illus-
trious people in Italy were daily visitors at the
Palace, where the Duke not only gave imposing
entertainments, but gathered quiet groups of
artists, writers, and musicians. It is likely that
there were many distracting and even dangerous
temptations in life at such a palace. But fortu-
nately Michael Angelo had a strong will, and
little love for things that were not noble. He
permitted nothing to stop his progress in art.
It was under the encouragement of one of
his teachers that Michael Angelo, when about
seventeen, undertook to chisel an important
bas-relief of the Centaurs and the Lapithae, in
which his success was marvelous. Michael
Angelo himself, looking on the work many
years later, said that he wished he had never
given a moment to anything but sculpture.
This remark of Michael Angelo recalls the
fact that at the time the Centaurs were carved
the author of the work was steadily increasing
his knowledge and grasp of painting and archi-
tecture, as well as acquiring useful ideas of his-
tory and literature. A world of thought-riches


was opening up before him. It may, therefore,
be imagined that his grief was very great when,
at the end of three years of such happy advance-
ment, the Duke Lorenzo died, and Michael
Angelo returned to his father's house in much
misery of mind, and set up his studio there.
Lorenzo's son Piero asked the boy back to the
palace. But the place neverwas the same, for the
new Duke had not his father's qualities of mind.
One of his whims was to induce Michael Angelo
to work during a severe winter on an immense
figure in snow. This was undoubtedly the finest
snow man ever built; but Michael Angelo had
no heart for work that so soon must melt away.
Before his return to the palace, Michael An-
gelo had begun a series of careful studies in
anatomy, to familiarize himself with every line
and dimension of the figure. He toiled at
this study for years, until his mastery of the
human form was complete. He never painted
or chiseled a figure without working but in a
drawing the most delicate details of the anat-

omy, so that no turn of vein or muscle might
be false to the absolute truth. It is by such
means that any mastery is secured. Behind
every work of genius, whether book, picture,
or engine, is an amount of labor and pains -
yes, and of fain that would have frightened
off a weak spirit.
When political disturbances broke out in
Florence, Michael Angelo hurried away to Ven-
ice, and to Bologna. Poor Florence was always
tumbling from one revolution into another.
The troubles of Florence were reflected in the
life of Michael Angelo, who never again found
the peace of those San Marco gardens. But
Michael Angelo's stern and courageous mind
was never crushed by disappointment. After
a life crowded with labors, he left behind him
colossal triumphs in painting, in architecture,
and in sculpture, besides making a great name
as a poet. He was a giant in every labor
that he undertook, one of the world's greatest

Michael Angelo was born in 1475 at a castle in Tuscany where his father held office as a Governor. His father's
name was Ludovico Buonarroti, and he himself was christened Michelagniolo Buonarroti, but for four centuries he
has been popularly called Michael Angelo. The head of a faun, upon which the boy worked in the San Marco
Gardens, may still be seen in one of the museums of Florence. The piece of sculpture representing Michael
Angelo at work on the faun's head, and which forms the frontispiece to this number of ST. NICHOLAS, was
executed by Emilio Zocchi, and occupies a place in the Pitti Gallery at Florence.



THE Holly, oh, the Holly!
Green leaf, and berry red,
Is the plant that thrives in winter
When all the rest are fled.
When snows are on the ground,
And the skies are gray and drear,
The Holly comes at Christmas-tide
And brings the Christmas cheer.
Sing the Mistletoe, the Ivy,
And the Holly-bush so gay,
That come to us in winter -
No summer friends are they.

Give me the sturdy friendship
That will ever loyal hold,
And give me the hardy Holly
That dares the winter's cold;
Oh, the roses bloom in June,
When the skies are bright and clear,
But the Holly comes at Christmas-tide
The best time o' the year.
Sing the Holly, and the Ivy,
And the merry Mistletoe,
That come to us in winter
When the fields are white with snow!


ONCE upon a time, although it was not such
a very very long time ago, there lived a little
girl named Elfie.
Her home was with her papa and mama in
one of those pretty villages on the banks of the
great Hudson River, which you all know winds
through the State of New York. The mighty
Catskill Mountains, where old Rip Van Winkle
was lost, were not far from her house.
She was really a very pretty child with brown
eyes and lovely fair curling hair, and was seven
years old on her latest birthday. Besides her
papa and mama she had a most delightful
grandma and grandpa who lived with them,
both of whom used to tell her the most beautiful
fairy stories that any little girl ever listened to.
Then she had several aunties who lived in
the city, one of whom, Auntie Louie, was quite
as good as a story-book herself, for she had been
all over the world, and loved to tell tales of her
travels to whoever would listen to her. There

was an Aunt Eva, who was very fond of Elfie, and
would play with her by the hour, and an Uncle
George, who was just as good and kind as Uncle
Georges always are in the story-books. So you
see that Elfie had no lack of friends, and had so
many people to tell her stories that her little
mind was full of Mother Goose and goblins and
princes and fairies and all the wonderful things
that have been written for the amusement of
children since the beginning of the world.
Now you would think that if ever there was
anybody who ought to be happy, Elfie ought
to have been; but in spite of all the stories she
had heard and read, and in spite of all the play-
things she had to amuse her, she was, in many
ways, the most discontented little girl that ever
lived. She was always wishing for something
that she did not have: one day for a bigger
dolly, another for three birthdays a year, another
for something else always wishing, wishing.
You have all read or heard of the little boy
who cried for the moon. Well, Elfie actually
did that, too, until she grew old enough to
know that no one could climb up to get it for
her; and then she began to wish she could go
there. She kept wishing this so much, that at

Copyrighted, 189o, by Frances V. Austen. All rights reserved.


last she began to think of very little else, and
when in the evening it grew dark, so that she
could not see to play any more, she would creep
to a seat at the window and watch for the moon.
One thing that surprised her more than any-
thing else about the moon, was the way it would
first appear as a tiny streak, and then every
night grow a little bigger till at lastit was as big
and as round as the prize pumpkin Elfie had
seen at the State Fair. She supposed it must
grow during the day; but then no sooner did it
become quite round and full than it would get
smaller every night, just as mysteriously as it had
grown, till at last it would disappear altogether,
to make way for a new one. This puzzled Elfie
a great deal; and although she did not speak to
people about it, for fear they would laugh at
her, or give her some funny answer, she often
wished some one would tell her the reason.
She became so curious about it that she even
dreamed about it; but her dreams never told her
why the moon grew larger and smaller, or why
it disappeared and came again.
Another thing that worried Elfie greatly was
whether Mother Goose was a real person or
not. "Who was she? she wondered. "Was
she a 'surely' old lady who gave up her whole
time to writing those wonderful rhymes, or was
it only just make-believe?" Then, who were
Little Tommy Tucker, Humpty Dumpty, Little
Jack Homer and all the other delightful people
she wrote about? Did they really live any-
where, or were they like old Mother Goose, just
" made up ?
Good gracious! when Elfie began to think
and wonder, it seemed as if she never would
be able to live long enough to find out all
about it. To be sure, Uncle George always
talked about Mother Goose, and Jack and Jill,
and the rest, as if he knew them quite well;
and she was quite sure in her own mind that
Santa Claus was a real person because her
papa and mama and every one of her aunties
used to speak of him, just as if they had met
him, and did he not always bring her the
loveliest presents at Christmas ?
Elfie used to feel that if she could only be
grown up she would know all about him, just
as every one else did.
One Christmas-day, Santa Claus had brought

her more presents than ever, and among them
was a splendid book of Mother Goose's rhymes,
full of pictures. Elfie thought she never would
become tired of reading it, and looking at the
lovely pictures; but, after all, it only set her
wondering more than ever as to where the
artist who drew the portraits of all these peo-
ple could have seen them; for he must have
seen them somewhere, she thought, or he never
could have made these beautiful pictures.
One of papa's friends was an artist, and he.
was also a great crony of Elfie's; so she made
up her mind that the very first time she saw
Mr. Krome she would ask him about it.
It was not many days after this that Mr.
Krome called at the house and found Elfie sit-
ting in a great easy-chair in front of the fire
in the parlor, with her wonderful book.

"Well, my little wonder-child," he said, "what
is the trouble now ? and what is the last
mystery that little head is puzzling itself over ? "
You see, Mr. Krome had heard something
of Elfie's funny questions. He took the little
girl on his knee and sat down in the chair.
After a short talk, she told him all she had
been thinking about, and wound up by asking



him where the artists found all the pictures of
Tommy Tucker, Jack Horner and the rest of
Mother Goose's family.
Mr. Krome smiled at the number of questions
that Elfie asked, but said after a little:
"Well, my dear, I will tell you. You must
know that all these people
live in a country that
S floats about in the
air just above our
heads. One can-
not see it or
Sever go to it,
without the

fairy, who
la visits a
of us
name is -E-
ma-ji-na-shun. The
country is the'Realm of Fancy' or' Cloudland.'
Now if you will let me hold you tight and
look straight into the fire, I will try to per-
suade old E-ma-ji-na-shun, who is quite a good
friend of mine, and often calls upon me, to pay
us a visit and take you back to this wonderful
country, where you will perhaps be able to see
some of these good people yourself."
Elfie cuddled close up to her friend and fixed
her eyes on the fire. For some time she could
see nothing but the coal gleaming in the grate,
with here and there a deep fiery chasm, while
from the mass of black unburned coal on the top
shot and flickered tiny little blue flames, which
seemed to Elfie, as she sat in her friend's lap, to
leap and to dance and to take on all sorts of fan-
tastic shapes. By and by, while she was still
looking hard at the fire, she saw that the thin
bluish smoke, which had been floating up the
chimney in faint streaks, was no longer rising
very high from the coals, but was collecting in
a little mass of vapor just above the fire, and
was slowly taking on the shape of a tiny man.
As it grew more and more distinct, she saw
that he was very, very old, and that he had a

long white beard, which reached nearly to his
toes. He was dressed in the same queer fash-
ion as she had seen in the pictures of goblins and
gnomes in her story-books. The color of his
garments seemed to have been borrowed from
the tints of the fire and the smoke, from which
he had come. His tightly fitting jacket, or
doublet, was black like the blackest of the
coals; so was the outside of a cloak which fell
from his shoulders, the lining being the color
of the flame. His legs were clad in orange-col-
ored tights, with black trunks slashed with fiery
streaks. His hair and beard were the tint of the
smoke, and had the same vapory look; the
color of his face was like a mixture of hot coals
and ashes. His eyes were formed by two of the
brightest coals, and twinkled with so much life
and jollity that Elfie could see, even if he was
as old as his hair and beard made him appear,
that he was as full of fun and frolic as a boy.

His rhe ad --_ -----
was ca.e : :

traordtwir e WILL- I'' "
pearat: oMr. IJRoE'ke e k his
coloreAs i n ---

o'-shar tIeIr %i lt
yellow (. t
er. To ",,n
plete hli e e-

was on!came for- POLITELY 'AT YOUR SERVICE
fifteen I n he
As ,:,n :
he ward to where -iILL- "
visiblheat on Mr. de-Krome's knee. He took off his
scended from bow, and said most politely, "At
the fireplace, myE TOladyOK OFF What iS CAP ANDyour Swill?"
and came for- POLITELY, 0 AT YOUR SERVICE,
ward to where WILL ?
Elfie sat on Mr. Krome's knee. He took off his
cap with a low bow, and said most politely, "At
your service, my lady. What is your will ?"





. .

LFIE was
not a bit
looked up
at Mr.Krome to tell her what to say. He had
already nodded familiarly to the old gentleman,
and said in answer to his question:
"First tell this young lady a little about
yourself, and then take her on a visit to the
'Realm of Fancy.' "
The little old man's eyes glowed and twinkled
merrily as he sat down on a hot coal and placed
one little foot on the second bar of the grate.
He began to talk in a quaint, funny little voice
which sounded for all the world like ashes
dropping from the fire.
My name, my dear, is E-ma-ji-na-shun, and
I am six thousand years old or older. I have

lost track of my birthday for a long time, but I
am.just as old as the world. I am the King of
the Realm of Fancy, or Cloudland. Indeed I
created it, as well as all the people who live
in it. I have been acquainted with all the
great people that ever lived; and, long after they
have died and the history of them has been
written, the historians who have lived at a
later period have had to come to me for in-
formation about them. Sometimes I would
forget what I had told them, and tell some-
body else something quite different about
the same man, but it has made very little
difference, and the world has gone on just
the same. I invented every story that ever
has been written, and have told them to the
people who have had the credit of writing
them; but they have been such good friends
of mine that I have been glad of their suc-
cess. I am always pleased to make new
friends, especially among little girls and
boys; and any child who makes a friend
of me, and does not neglect me as he grows
up, is sure to become famous. But there
are many persons who think they are
cleverer than I am, and sit down to write
without giving me full liberty to stir their
ink for them or to ride on their pens.
I must say, however," he added, with a
funny little look at his toes as he swung on the
top bar of the grate, that some people are bet-
ter without me. I am afraid I have helped to
ruin numbers of business men who have come
to me for advice instead of going to my brother
Common Sense; for I may as well own to you
at once, my dear, that I don't know anything
at all about business, and I always get the worst
of it when I try to have anything to do with it.
I have always let Common Sense, and Experi-
ence, another brother of mine, look after the
printing and selling of my many books; it has
been enough for me to do, to invent them."
All the time that E-ma-ji-na-shun had been
talking, he had been fidgeting about, first in one
position and then in another, so that it had
been quite hard at first for Elfie to keep her
eyes 6n him; but as he went on she found it
easier. He now selected a very hot piece of coal
for a seat, and, crossing his legs, went on:
"I have always tried to use my talents for




If wicked people will get hold of my ideas, and
use them for a bad purpose, I am sure I can't
help it. If they would put these same gifts to
a good use, they would always do better, as my
brother Experience is forever telling them."
"My greatest work in the story-telling line,"
he continued, in answer to a question of Mr.
Krome's, "is, I have always thought, 'The
Arabian Nights.'
I wrote that book centuries ago, and though
I could do just as well to-day, if some clever
man would only employ me, still people go to
that, instead of coming direct to me. Yes, they
use the same old stories to-day. They put them
in a new dress, and get -me to touch them up
here and there, disguising them so, sometimes,
that even I can hardly recognize them."'
While he had been speaking, he had been
stirring the coal with his toe until there was
quite a cloud of smoke rising up the chimney,
and as he came to an end he took off his cap
again and held out his hand to Elfie.
Come, little one, and we will explore the
wonderful land you have heard about: My
Realm of Fancy, the beautiful county of
Elfie stretched out her hand, and the little
man, who seemed as strong as a giant, lifted

her down from the chair. In one second more
he had seated her comfortably in a cozy nook
he had made for her among the blue wreaths
of smoke, and, before the little girl could have
an idea of where she was,-pouf!--shoo!-
she was up the chimney and out of it, floating
away to Cloudland.
Elfie could never tell how she got through
the chimney; when she looked at it long after,
it seemed quite impossible that she could have
squeezed into it. As it was, she never felt it,
and was through so quickly that she only
caught one glimpse of its black sides.
She could only explain this as one of the
wonderful tricks of E-ma-ji-na-shun !
They seemed to float through the air as if
they really were part of the smoke upon which
they were seated; indeed, when Elfie had
partly recovered from her astonishment, and
was able to look round, she saw that she had
become quite like vapor, and as for old E-ma-
ji-na-shun, she could see right through him.
It was a splendid ride through the clear frosty
air. Elfie was surprised that she felt quite warm,
and when she
spoke of this, /
her guide told
herthatsolong / -
as they were
with him, and i
treated him -
need never feel <-
heat nor cold
nor hunger nor I'
Away they
floated over the
village where i
Elfielived with
could see quite
distinctly the
chimney from
which they had
come, and she I
praised to be THROUGH THECHIMNEY."
told by the merry old gentleman that, if she
chose to spare the time, they could float over



the houses of her friends, and he would tell her
just what they were to have for dinner, or what
they were thinking about; but Elfie was in too
great a hurry to explore the Realm of Fancy to
delay for other things just then.
Higher and higher they went, till the village

became a mere speck beneath them, and the
great river a tiny silver thread. They were
already among the clouds, when Elfie saw that
the air all around them,was thick with snow.
"Ha ha !" laughed E-ma-ji-na-shun," Mother
Goose is plucking one of her flock for dinner."
"What do you mean? asked Elfie.
Have n't you ever heard of that ? ex-
claimed the old man. Whenever it snows on
the earth," he said, "it is a sign that old Mother

Goose and her children are to have a goose for
dinner; and the flakes are the feathers that she
plucks from the bird. That is the reason I
named her Mother Goose, and," he sagely added,
"I made up that story a long time ago, in fact,
quite soon after I created the old lady, and I
consider that she and her history are
among the most successful efforts I
ever made in the Realm of Fancy -
but here we are!" he cried briskly,
"step off carefully upon this rock
and we will have dinner at one of
my castles in the air."
Elfie almost gasped for breath in
her astonishment. The smoke on
which she came up had disappeared;
the snow, the clouds, were gone, and
here she was standing on the wide
stone steps of a beautiful castle, just
such a castle as she had seen in
one of Mr. Krome's pictures. There
were the gates, the moat, the draw-
bridge, the battlements, the portcul-
lis, a burly soldier in iron cap and
leather jerkin standing at the farther
end of the drawbridge-everything
S that she had read about in her fairy-
.. story books as being necessary for
a "really truly" castle.
This castle, Elfie, my dear," said
E-ma-ji-na-shun, "is your own es-
pecial property, and whenever you
wish to come here and enjoy it, all
you have to do is to shut your eyes
and call upon me. I will bring you
here before you can count ten.
Come along, and let us have
They crossed the drawbridge,
TH SNOW." which the soldier on guard had
lowered with a tremendous clatter as they
came near, and passing under the portcullis
entered the lofty hall of the castle. There
was a splendid fire of logs blazing away in an
enormous fireplace, and coming to meet them
were two of the dearest old retainers that ever
were read about in any story-book that ever
was written.
Immediately they said, both speaking at
once, Dinner is served in ,the dining-hall!"





and Elfie with E-ma-ji-na-shun lost no time in
following them there.
They sat down to a glorious dinner, consist-
ing of everything that Elfie liked, and she was
afraid once or twice, as she ordered another
help of some of the very best things, that her
mama would appear and tell her not to eat so
much. But E-ma-ji-na-shun told her that nothing
she could eat or do in the Realm of Fancy
would ever hurt her.
After she had eaten of every kind of candy

and dessert that she ever had tasted, and a large
number she had never seen before, they started
out from the castle to see the wonderful things
E-ma-ji-na-shun had promised to show her.


WHEN they had recrossed the drawbridge,
passed the soldier, who respectfully saluted





Elfie as if she were a princess, and walked
down the great stone steps, Elfie hadan op-
portunity of looking around her and seeing
what a really remarkable place this country
was. There were hundreds of just such castles
as her own to be seen from where she stood,
and E-ma-ji-na-shun told her that they belonged
to poor people who could not afford to live in a
real castle on earth. Far away in the distance
was a range of mountains, which glistened so
gloriously in the sunlight that she was not aston-

Hullo, Elfie! is this cold enough for you ? "
Elfie looked around, and saw what she felt
sure must be one of the famous giants she had
read about. It was the form of an enormous
man, nearly sixty feet high, seemingly made of
ice and snow. He had on an ice overcoat, a
crown of ice, and a snow beard. His face ap-
peared to be made of strawberry ice-cream, and
his legs and feet were two great blocks of frozen
snow; his hair was composed of icicles, and
under his arm was a tremendous pair of bellows.


ished when her guide told her they were made
of solid gold and silver.
Many of the trees which grew near the castles
had diamonds, emeralds, and rubies hanging
on them for fruit.
They strolled on gently, Elfie looking from
side to side with delight, when she heard a ter-
rible, rushing, roaring noise, and at the same
time felt an icy cold wind blowing past her and
into her face. She looked up to see the cause
of the cold and the noise, when she heard a big,
blustering, boisterous voice shouting:

On looking further, Elfie saw that he had just
come from a gigantic cave in the side of an
iceberg, which was floating around in a crimson
How did you leave all your friends, down
below on the earth ? he roared.
How do you know I came from the earth? "
said Elfie, who, seeing that E-ma-ji-na-shun was
laughing away heartily, was not afraid.
Ho, ho! don't you know that I visit that
place quite often ? I am the North Wind. Ha,
ha! Whew-w-w!" he whistled. "Have n't you


189X.] .



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;~- *
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i" V





been out with your sled in winter, and felt me
blow on your nose till it was so numb that you
could n't feel it ? Have n't I nipped your little
fingers and toes, and driven you in crying to
mama? Ha, ha, ha! he shouted till his icy
sides cracked, "I remember you, little girl."
Elfie was surprised to find the giant was
the North Wind, but she spoke bravely and
"Well, I don't think you are very kind to
little children. I am sure I don't like you a
bit, and I wish you would n't speak to me."
"Ha! ha! ha "laughed the giant, so heartily

know about it. Why, I am one of the very
best friends the children have. I make your
blood fly through your body, and force you to
run about to keep warm. I give you fine ice to
skate on, and, freeze the snow so that you can go
sleigh-riding. I make you as hungry as a hunter,

that a regular shower of icicles fell aroundhis
fegrow up strong and hea! That's men and women,girls

able to do something in the world, instead of
lolling about it. Why, and having to be waitvery
best friends the children who never feel make your
blood fly through your body, and force you to
run about to keep warm. I give you fine ice to

skate on, and freezeth; ut I can't stay that you can go
any slegh-ridnger. I must be you as hungry as nesota hunter,
so that you run home and eat so much that you
grow up strong and healthy men and women,
able to do something in the world, instead of
lolling about all day, and having to be waited
on, like the children who never feel my cold
healthful breath; but I can't stay talking to you
any longer. I must be off to Minnesota to help


the good folks of St. Paul along with their ice-
palace, or else they will be grumbling at me
finely. So, good-bye, Elfie! Stick to old E-ma-
ji-na-shun. He is the best friend of the chil-
dren, and the old folks as well. Good-bye!
Whoop Swish Whizz Whew-w-w -
ew!" and away flew the North Wind, leaving
a long track of ice and snow to mark his
Like the tail of a comet," said E-ma-ji-na-
shun, who had perched himself goblin-fashion
on the limb of a tree near-by.
The sight of ice and snow made E-lfie think

of Santa Claus, and E-ma-ji-na-shun, even while
he was clambering down from the tree, knew
her thought and came running toward her.
Come, then, and we will go and see him,"
said E-ma-ji-na-shun.
"Is n't that splendid!" said Elfie. Oh, make
haste!-please. I'm in such a hurry to see
how Santa Claus lives."

Show me the house of Santa Claus!

Elfie did as she was told, and in a second she
felt herself lifted off her feet and flying through
felt herself lifted off her feet and flying through




the air, but, before she could gasp for breath, her
feet touched the ground and she opened her eyes.


HEN Elfie opened her eyes
she saw she was standing,
with E-ma-ji-na-shun by her

magnificent palace.
It seemed to be made
of ice and decorated with gold and silver, for it
shone so in the rays of the sun. that it really hurt
her eyes to look at it.
There were walks and terraces all round the
palace, formed out of snow, and snow trees cut
into the most fantastic shapes. Snow men were
set along the terraces to serve for statues.
Elfie gave one good look around before she
hurried through the archway. There she found
herself in an enormous hall, the ceiling of which
seemed to reach nearly to the sky; it was hung
with icicles and decorated with glass balls of
many colors, and was lighted by millions of
tiny wax-candles, the same as those Elfie had
seen on the Christmas-tree at home.

In the center of the hall, and seated on a
most comfortable-looking arm-chair, made of
snow, was old Santa Claus, and Elfie sat down
on a snow footstool to examine the kind old
man who is so beloved by the children of the
Elfie noticed that he was very much like his
pictures. His face was round and rosy, and
fairly shone with good humor, and his snow-
white hair and beard helped to carry out the
kind look of his dear old face. He was clothed
in a long red robe, lined and edged with white
fur; great heavy boots, also lined with fur, were
on his feet and legs; his cap was crimson, and
his hands were covered by sealskin gloves.
He was surrounded by a number of little
goblins, who were all busy doing something to
amuse or please the old man.
Some were bringing him food and drink,
while others were playing leap-frog over one
another's backs so that he could see and enjoy
the game. The old gentleman was watching
them closely, and every now and then he would
lean back and roar with laughter at their
After a little while he looked over to where
Elfie was sitting. As soon as Santa Claus saw



the little girl, he called two of the goblins,
and told them to bring her to where he sat.
They turned three or four somersaults on their
way, and when they reached her, each seized a
hand and led her to the King of the Castle.
Santa Claus looked at her very kindly for a
moment, and then, bending down in the gentlest
way you ever saw, he took her upon his knee
and gave her a great sounding kiss.
The noise of that kiss echoed through the hall
like the' crack of a whip. Back and forth the

me so much. How do you ever get down the
chimney? Our chimney is so very little that a
great big man like you could never get through."
Santa Claus threw back his head and laughed
so loud that another shower of icicles came rat-
tling down. There was such a perfect rain of
them that Elfie was half afraid she would be
buried under them, but the little sprites kept
clearing them away as fast as they fell.
"Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! my dear, you will
have to ask our friend E-ma-ji-na-shun about


echo went until it was lost far away up in the
ceiling, where it made a lot of icicles come
clattering down like a shower of needles.
"Well, Elfie, my child," said Santa Claus,
" how did you get here ? The last time I saw
you, you were fast asleep in your little crib. I
thought you had caught me surely, once, for
you woke up and reached over to see if your
stocking was filled, but I managed to make my-
self invisible till you were asleep again; then I
left you all those pretty toys that surprised you
so on Christmas-day."
Oh! cried Elfie, that is what has puzzled

that; he's the fellow who helps me out. When-
ever I find a chimney is too small (and I
generally do, nowadays), I call upon him, and
he helps me with his tricks. I don't know how
he does it, but he does; and the main thing,
my dear, is that, big chimney or little chimney,
old Santa Claus gets through just the same."
But how do you manage to go so far all in
one night?" said Elfie.
"Ask your friend again, my dear; that's
another one of his tricks. In fact, I am one of
his tricks myself; for he made me nearly one
thousand years ago, out of a great log of wood,


in the Black Forest in Germany. Of course my and neatly arranged in a knot, and covered with
reindeers help me to some extent, and then a net. A pair of large, gold-rimmed spec-
you know that the earth takes twenty-four hours tackles ornamented her hooked nose; she car-
to get quite through the night ried a long, crutch-handled stick,
all over the world, so, and under one arm was a great
with the help of my bundle of papers.
reindeers and Elfie thought the old lady
E-ma-ji-na- looked very familiar to her; she
Felt sure she had seen her or her
picture before, and she was just
about to ask Santa Claus- who
she was, when the old gentle-
/ man burst out with:
Oh, dear me, here comes old
Mother Goose, with a whole lot
of new verses and stories for
me to select those that I think
will best suit my boys and girls for next

shun, and by
following the
turning of
the world, I
manage to
make all my
visits before
morning. But I have to make haste, I can
assure you; and I am generally so tired by the
time I reach home, that I have to sleep nearly
six months of the year to become thoroughly
"Then my little goblins here look after the
toy-factory for me, and see to the sending down
to the toy-stores on the earth of enough toys to
provide for all the birthdays. You may be sure
they have their hands full."
While he was speaking, Elfie saw a very funny-
looking old woman walking toward them. She
was dressed in a black cloak with a red lining;
a strange-looking steeple-crowned hat; a red
quilted petticoat, short enough to display a pair
of very elegant black silk stockings; a red cloak;
and low shoes buckled with silver buckles and
having very high red heels. Her hair was white

Christmas! It's
no use, Mother
Goose! said
the jolly old
man, raisinghis
voice, "I pos-
itively will not
look over any
verses to-day.
I am too tired
-besides, I am
engaged. Call
when I am not
so busy."
Elfie thought
this was rather
absurd, seeing
that he seemed
to havenothing
to do but to .
watch his gob- s _
lins play leap-
Old Mother Goose but I think that Mother
Goose deserves a new chapter, so we will make
a pause and give her one.

(To be continuedd)




SOME years after the Golden Ram died in
Colchis, far across the sea, a certain king reigned
in Greece, and his name was Pelias. He was
not the rightful king, for he had turned his
brother from the throne, and taken it for himself.
Now, this brother had a son, a boy called Jason,
and he sent him far away from Pelias, up into
the mountains. In these hills there was a great
cave, and in that cave lived Chiron who was
half a horse. He had the head and breast of
a man, but a horse's body and legs. He was
famed for knowing more about everything than
any one else in all Greece. He knew about the
stars, and the plants of earth, which were good
for medicine, and which were poisonous. He
was the best archer with the bow, and the best
player of the harp, he knew most songs and
stories of old times, for he was the last of a
people half-horse and half-man, who had dwelt
in ancient times on the hills. Therefore, the
kings in Greece sent their sons to him to be
taught shooting, singing, and telling the truth;
and that was all the teaching they had then,
except that they learned to hunt, and fish, and
fight, and throw spears, and toss the hammer,
and the stone. There Jason lived with Chiron
and the boys in the cave, and many of the
boys became famous. There was Orpheus, who
played the harp so sweetly that wild beasts fol-
lowed his minstrelsy, and even the trees danced
after him, and settled where he stopped playing;
and there was Mopsus, who could understand
what the birds say to each other; and there was
Butes, the handsomest of men; and Tiphys, the
best steersman of a ship; and Castor, with his
brother Polydeuces, the boxer; and Heracles,
the strongest man in the whole world was there;
and Lynceus, whom they called Keen-eye, be-
cause he could see so far, and he could see the

dead men in their graves under the earth; and
there was Euphemus, so swift and light-footed
that he could run upon the gray sea, and never
wet his feet; and there were Calais and Zetes,
the two sons of the North Wind, with golden
wings upon their feet; and many others were
there whose names it would take too long to tell.
They all grew up together in the hills, good
friends, healthy, and brave, and strong. And
they all went out to their own homes at last; but
Jason had no home to go to, for his uncle, Pelias,
had taken it, and his father was a wanderer.
So at last he wearied of being alone, and
he said good-bye to his old teacher, and went
down through the hills toward Iolcos, his father's
old home, where his wicked uncle, Pelias, was
reigning. As he went, he came to a great,
flooded river, running red from bank to bank,
rolling the round boulders along. And there
on the bank was an old woman sitting.
"Cannot you cross, mother?" said Jason;
and she said she could not, but must wait till
the flood fell, for there was no bridge.
I '11 carry you across," said Jason, "if you
will let me carry you."
So she thanked him, and said it was a kind
deed, for she was longing to reach the cottage
where her little grandson lay sick.
Then he knelt down, and she climbed upon
his back, and he used his spear for a staff, and
stepped into the river. It was deeper than he
thought, and stronger, but at last he staggered
out on the further bank, far below where he
went in. And then he set the old woman down.
Bless you, my lad, for a strong man and a
brave !" she said, and my blessing will go with
you to the world's end."
Then he looked, and she was gone he did
not know where, for she was the greatest of the
goddesses, Hera, the wife of Zeus, who had
taken the shape of an old woman.
Then Jason went down limping to the city,


for he had lost one shoe in the flood. And when
he reached the town he went straight up to the
palace, and through. the court, and into the open
door, and up the hall, where the king was sitting
at his table, among his
men. ThereJasonstood, ..
leaning on the spear. ...
When the king saw
him, he turned white
withterror. Forhehad
been told that a man
with only one shoe
would come some day,
and take away his king- '
dom. And here was
the half-shod man of
whom the prophecy had
But he still remem-
bered to be courteous,
and he bade his men -
lead the stranger to the
baths, and there the
attendants bathed him, pouring hot water
over him. And they anointed his head with
oil, and clothed him in new raiment, and
brought him back to the hall, and set him
down at a table beside the king, and gave
him meat and drink.
When he had eaten and was refreshed,
the king said: Now it is time to ask the
stranger who he is, and who his parents are,
and whence he comes to lolcos ? "
And Jason answered: "I am Jason,
sEon's son, your own brother's son, and I
am come to take back my kingdom."
The king grew pale again, but he was
cunning, and he leaped up, and embraced
the lad, and made much of him, and had a gold
circlet twisted in his hair. Then he said he was old,
and weary of judging the people. And weary
work it is," he said, and no joy therewith shall
any king have. For there is a curse on the
country, that shall not be taken away, till the
Fleece of Gold is brought home, from the land
of the world's end."
When Jason heard that, he cried, "I shall
take the curse away, for I shall bring the Fleece
of Gold from the land of the world's end, before
I sit on the throne of my father."

Now this was the very thing that the king
wished, for he thought that if once Jason went
after the Fleece certainly he would never come
back living to lolcos. So he said that it could

never be done, for theland
was far away across the
sea, so far that the birds
could iino come and go
in on!e \ e:c, ') great a sea
i:, tlh.t and perilous.
A Iso there was
:t dragon that
guarded the

E.Z P--"

t*^--- ""-

Fleece of
Gold, and
no man
could face
it and live.
But the
fighting a dragon was itself a temptation to
Jason, and he made a great vow by the water
of Styx, an oath the very gods feared to break,
that certainly he would bring home that Fleece
to lolcos. And he sent out messengers all



over Greece, to all his old friends, and bade
them come and help him, for that there was
a dragon to kill, and that there would be
fighting. And they all came, driving in their

i mlll"IIImMA i ,ViFllill'II,

meat, and wine on board, and hung their
shields with their crests outside the bulwarks.
Then they said good-bye to their friends, went
aboard, sat down at the oars, set sail, and so


chariots down dales and across hills: Hera-
cles the strong man, with the bow that none
other could bend, and Orpheus with his
harp, and Castor and Polydeuces, and Zetes
and Calais of the golden wings, and Tiphys,
the steersman, and young Hylas, still a boy,
and as fair as a girl, who always went with
Heracles the strong. These came, and many
more, and they set shipbuilders to work, and
oaks were felled for beams, and ashes for oars,
and spears were made, and arrows feathered, and
swords sharpened. But in the prow of the ship
they placed a bough of an oak-tree from the
forest of Dodona, where the trees can speak.
And that bough spoke, and prophesied things
to come. And they called the ship "Argo,"
and they launched her, and put bread, and

away eastward to Colchis, in the land of the
world's end.
All day they rowed, and at night they beached
the ship, as was then the custom, for they did
not sail at night, and they went on shore, and
took supper, and slept, and next day to the sea
again. And old Chiron, the man-horse saw the
swift ship from his mountain heights, and ran
down to the beach; there he stood with the
waves of the gray sea breaking over his feet,
waving with his mighty hands, and wishing his
boys a safe return. And his wife held in her
arms the little son of one of the ship's company,
Achilles, the son of Peleus of the Spear, and of
the goddess of the Sea Foam. So they rowed
ever eastward, and ere long they came to a
strange isle where dwelt men with six hands



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.-- -------


_. -..---


apiece, unruly giants. And these giants lay
in wait for them on cliffs above the river's
mouth where the ship was moored, and before
the dawn they rolled down great rocks on the
crew. But Heracles drew his huge bow,
the bow for which he slew Eurytus, king of
(Echalia, and wherever a giant showed hand
or shoulder above the cliff, he pinned him
through with an arrow, till all were slain. And
after that they still held eastward, passing many
islands, and towns of men, till they reached
Mysia, and the Asian shore. Here they landed,
with bad luck. For while they were cutting
reeds and grass to strew their beds on the
sands, young Hylas, beautiful Hylas, went off
with a pitcher in his hand to draw water. He
came to a beautiful spring, a deep, clear, green
pool, and there the water-fairies lived, whom men
called Nereids. There were Eunis, and Nycheia
with her April eyes, and when they saw the
beautiful Hylas, they longed to have him al-
ways with them, to live in the crystal caves
beneath the water. For they had never seen
any one so beautiful. And as he stooped with
his pitcher and dipped it to the stream, they
caught him softly in their arms, and drew him
down below, and no man ever saw him any more,
but he dwelt with the water-fairies.

And Heracles the strong, who loved him like
a younger brother, wandered all over the coun-
try, crying Hylas! Hylas! and the boy's voice
answered so faintly from below the stream
that Heracles never heard him. So he roamed
alone in the forests, and the rest of the crew
thought he was lost.
Then the sons of the North Wind were angry,
and bade set sail without him, and sail they did,
leaving the strong man behind. Long after-
ward, when the Fleece was won, Heracles met
the sons of the North Wind, and slew them with
his arrows. And he buried them, and set a
great stone on each grave, and one of these
is ever stirred, and shakes when the North Wind
blows. There they lie, and their golden wings
are at rest.
Still they sped on, with a west wind blowing,
and they came to a country of Giants. Their
king was strong, and thought himself the best
boxer then living, so he came down to the ship,
and challenged any one of that crew: and Poly-
deuces, the boxer, took up the challenge. So
the rest, and the people of the country, made a
ring, and Polydeuces and the Giant stepped
into the midst, and put up their hands. First
they moved round each other cautiously, watch-
ing for a chance, and then, as the sun shone



forth in the Giant's face, Polydeuces leaped in,
and struck him between the eyes with his left
hand, and, strong as he was, the Giant staggered
and fell. Then his friends picked him up, and
sponged his face with water, and all the crew
of Argo shouted with joy. He was soon on his
feet again, and rushed at Polydeuces, hitting
out so hard that he would have killed him if
the blow had gone home. But Polydeuces just
moved his head a little on one side, and the
blow went by, and, as the Giant slipped, Poly-
deuces planted one in his mouth, and another
beneath his ear, and was away before the Giant
could recover. There they stood, breathing
heavily, and glaring at each other, till the Giant
made another rush, but Polydeuces avoided
him, and struck him several blows quickly in the
eyes, and now the Giant was almost blind. So
Polydeuces at once ended the combat by a
right-hand blow on the temple. The Giant fell,
and lay as if he were dead. When he came to
himself again, he had no heart to go on, for his
knees shook, and he could hardly see. So Poly-
deuces made him swear never to challenge
strangers again as long as he lived, and then
the crew of "Argo" crowned Polydeuces with a
wreath of poplar leaves, and they took supper,
and Orpheus sang to them, and they slept, and
next day they came to the country of the unhap-
piest of men.
His name was Phineus and he was a prophet;
but, when he came to meet Jason and his com-
pany, he seemed more like the ghost of a beggar
than a crowned king. For he was blind, and
very old, and he wandered like a dream, leaning
on a staff, and feeling the wall with his hand.
His limbs all trembled, he was but a thing of skin
and bone, and all foul and filthy to see. At last
he reached the doorway and sat down, with his
purple cloak fallen round him, and he held
up his skinny hands, and welcomed Jason, for,
being a prophet, he knew that now he should
be delivered from his wretchedness. Now he
lived, or rather lingered, in all this misery, be-
cause he had offended the gods, and had told
men what things were to happen in the future
beyond what the gods desired that men should
know. So they blinded him, and they sent
against him hideous monsters with wings and
crooked claws, called harpies, which fell upon

him at his meat, and carried it away before he
could put it to his mouth. Sometimes they flew
off with all the meat; sometimes they left a little,
that he might not quite starve, and die, and be at
peace, but might live in misery. Yet, even what
they left they made so foul, and of such evil
savor, that even a starving man could scarcely
take it within his lips. Thus, this king was the
most miserable of all men living.
So he welcomed the heroes, and, above all,
Zetes and Calais, the sons of the North Wind,
for they, he knew, would help him. And they
all went into the wretched naked hall, and sat
down at the tables, and the servants brought
meat and drink, and placed it before them, the
latest and last supper of the harpies. Then
down on the meat swooped the harpies, like
lightning or wind, with clanging brazen wings,
and iron claws, and the smell of a battle-field
where men lie dead; down they swooped, and
flew shrieking away with the food. But the two
sons of the North Wind drew their short swords,
and rose in the air on their golden wings, and
followed where the harpies fled, over many a
sea and many a land, till they came to a distant
isle, and there they slew the harpies with their
swords. And that isle was called "Turn Again,"
for there the sons of the North Wind turned, and
it was late in the night when they came back
to the hall of Phineus, and to their companions.
Now, Phineus was telling Jason and his com-
pany how they might win their way to Colchis
and the world's end, and the wood of the
Fleece of Gold. First, he said, you shall come
in your ship to the Rocks Wandering, for these
rocks wander like living things in the sea, and
no ship has ever sailed between them. For
they open, like a great mouth, to let ships pass,
and when she is between their lips they clash
again, and crush her in their iron jaws. By
this way even winged things may never pass;
nay, not even the doves that bear ambrosia to
Father Zeus, the lord of Olympus, but the rocks
ever catch one even of these. So, when you
come near them, you must let loose a dove from
the ship, and let her go before you to try the
way. And if she flies safely between the rocks
from one sea to the other sea, then row with all
your might when the rocks open again. But if
the rocks close on the bird, then return, and do



not try the adventure. But, if you win safely
through, then hold right on to the mouth of the
River Phasis, and there you shall see the towers
of' Eetes, the king, and the grove of the Fleece
of Gold. And then do as well as you may.
So they thanked him, and next morning they
set sail, till they came to a place where high
rocks narrowed the sea to the breadth of a
river, and the stream ran swift, and the waves
roared beneath the rocks, and the wet cliffs
bellowed. Then Euphemus took the dove in
his hands, and set it free, and she flew straight
at the pass where the rocks met, and sped right
through, and the rocks gnashed like gnashing
teeth, but they caught only a feather from her
tail. Then slowly the rocks opened again, like
a wild beast's mouth that opens, and Tiphys,
the helmsman, shouted, "Row on, hard all! "
and he held the ship straight for the pass. And
she leaped at the stroke, and the oars bent like
bows in the hands of the men. Three strokes
they pulled, and at each the ship leaped, and
now they were within the black jaws of the
rocks, the water boiling round them, and so
dark it was that they could see the stars. But
the oarsmen could not see the daylight behind
them, and the steersman could not see the day-
light in front. Then the great tide rushed in
between the rocks like a rushing river, and
lifted the ship as if it were lifted by a hand,
and through the strait she passed like a bird, and
the- rocks clashed, and only broke the carved
wood of the ship's stern. And the ship reeled
in the seething sea beyond, and all the men of
Jason bowed their heads over their oars, half
dead with that fierce rowing.
Then they set all sail, and the ship sped
merrily on, past the shores of the inner sea,

past bays and towns, and river mouths, and
round green hills, the tombs of men slain long
ago. And, behold, on the top of one mound
stood a tall man, clad in rusty armor, and with
a broken sword in his hand, and on his head a
helmet with a blood-red crest. And thrice he
waved his hand, and thrice he shouted aloud,
and was no more seen, for this was the Ghost
of Sthenelus, Acteon's son, whom an arrow had
slain there long since, and he had come forth
from his tomb to see men of his own blood,
and to greet Jason and his company. So they
anchored there, and slew. sheep in sacrifice, and
poured blood and wine on the grave of Sthene-
lus. And there Orpheus left a harp, that the
wind might sing in the chords, and make music
to Sthenelus below the earth.
Then they sailed on, and at evening they saw
above their heads the snowy crests of Mount
Caucasus, flushed in the sunset; and high in
the air they saw, as it were, a black speck that
grew greater and greater, and fluttered black
wings, and then fell sheer down like a stone.
And then they heard a dreadful cry from a val-
ley of the mountain, for there Prometheus was
fastened to the rock, and the eagles fed upon
him, because he stole fire from the gods, and
gave it to men. And the heroes shuddered
when they heard his cry; but not long after
Heracles came that way, and he slew the eagles
with his bow, and set Prometheus free.
But at nightfall they came into the wide
mouth of the River Phasis, that flows through
the land of the world's end, and they saw the
lights burning in the palace of jEetes the king.
So now they were come to the last stage of
theirjourney, and there they slept, and dreamed
of the Fleece of Gold.

(To be contained.)


(A Christmas Story.)


IT was Christmas Eve in a Western city.
Lights shone brightly in all the churches where
children were gathered for Christmas festivities,
singing Christmas songs and receiving Christmas
presents, sometimes from great evergreen trees
all abloom with apples, oranges, toys, books,
warm mufflers, and warmer mittens for snow-
balling and coasting. And even when early in
the evenings these festivities were over, and a
succession of snow flurries had settled into a
steady storm, groups of happy children rushed
gleefully out into the cold, cheerless streets,
shouting and singing as they scattered to wend
their way homeward as fast as their young legs
could carry them. Lamps in the shop-windows
flickered and shone by turns. Door-steps were
silently covered with thick drifts of dry snow,
or in a moment left bare and dark. Blinds
were shut and curtains drawn close to keep out
the cold and storm, though nearly every dwell-
ing showed at least one window cheerful with
light and warmth, and decorated with Christmas
The snow was falling faster; the wind from the
lake rushed up and down the silent streets and
played fantastic tricks with the bewildered snow.
Among the boys who had started homeward
in the storm, was one laden with presents for
his widowed mother. He was a little fellow
with an unpronounceable Norwegian surname,
which his mates and school-fellows, following
only its sound, had translated into Holdfast."
At first he tried to correct the error, but at
length he gave that up, and accepted the new
name, with its full meaning, resolved to bear it
worthily. He went to the day-school, and to
the Sunday-school, and gained the approval of
his teachers by his faithfulness and his intelligent
interest in his work. When a call was made
for recruits for the Sunday-school, Holdfast not
only brought in more children than anybody
else, but he kept them too; for if they were ab-

sent he was sure to look them up; and so it had
come to pass that there were in the school
several classes known collectively as the Hold-
fast Brigade.
The room where his widowed and invalid
mother lived was in the poorer part of the
city, and it was far from the great and beau-
tiful church whose Christmas festival he had
This was before the days of district-telegraph
companies, and uniformed and disciplined mes-
senger boys, -but Holdfast was known in the
city as a kind of express messenger company in
himself. It was mainly by his earnings that his
mother had lived since her illness. Almost at
daylight he would be at the newspaper office
waiting for it to open, to get his bundle of pa-
pers in time to deliver on a double route, twice
as long as that assigned to any other boy-and
at morning and at night, before and after school-
hours, he was sure to have errands and com-
missions. Sometimes these would keep him busy
far into the night-for he never felt willing to
stop and rest until every parcel and every mes-
sage had been delivered.
This particular Christmas Eve he was to
spend with his mother, but while he was bent
on his homeward way, sturdily facing the storm,
a man hastily dismounted from a horse and
recognizing him said: "Here, Franz, hold my
horse until I come back," and almost before he
knew it the bridle was in the cold little hand,
and the man had disappeared in the driving
storm. Franz, suppressing a sigh, buttoned his
jacket over his presents, and waited, standing
first on one foot, and then upon the other.
The passers-by took no note of the tired boy
and the chilled and impatient horse. One by
one the lights in the windows of the city went
out. The passers-by became fewer, until the
streets were almost deserted. The gas-lamps in
the streets flared in the gusts of wind, and


sometimes these too disappeared, blown out by
the unusual gusts. The snow fell thicker and
faster, and still the boy held the horse. At first
the fine animal had been restless, pawing the
snow, and snorting as he snuffed the air; but
in time he had lost his spirit and surrendered
to his misfortune. Then he made friends with

custody, but Holdfast expostulated -he was to
hold him, he said, until the rider came back. The
official gave expression to a sentiment more
emphatic than complimentary concerning the
absent owner of the horse, and marched boy
and animal to the nearest, livery-stable. There
he rang the night-bell, and delivered the horse,


the boy, his companion in misery, drooping his
head down over the lad's shoulder in the pitiful
way in which I have seen a mare brooding over
its dead colt. The great alarm-bell in the tower
of the city hall slowly pealed out the midnight
hour. The city marshal and his little force of
night-police began their round of the streets to
see that the saloons were closed, and that the
belated citizens did not suffer from assaults of
the disreputable and lawless,- and so it hap-
pened that a watchman discovered the cower-
ing horse and lonely boy.
He at once proposed to take the former into

notwithstanding Holdfast's remonstrances, and,
with a threat to lock him up also unless he took
himself off, sent the boy home.
By this time Franz felt himself to be strangely
weak. He scarcely could make his way through
the streets. Even the snow and darkness hardly
could make them unfamiliar. Dreamily the boy
held his slow course; at one moment, he seemed
to see the lights and hear the music of the church,
and, at another, everything became confused in
his mind; he was leading the horse, and they
seemed to be dragging some heavy load be-
tween them; then the lights came again and the



music, and he would have lain down to dream,
and listen, but for his sturdy habit of moving
on, moving on, till his route was completed.
At last he saw the feeble candle-light in his
mother's window; he reached the door and,
what did it mean? -he could not turn the
handle! He tried again and again, when sud-
denly the door opened. His mother, who had
been anxiously waiting for him, once more had
come out to peer into the darkness and call his
name. Then he fell down upon the steps.
His mother pulled him into the bright warmth
of the sitting room, and, with a low cry of dis-
tress, began to chafe his hands and face, and
loosen his clothes. She cried for help in her
anxiety; kind neighbors from the adjoining
apartment soon came to her aid, for the poor
are always kind to the poor. Soon the boy
was tenderly cared for and put to bed. His
feet and legs were found to be badly frozen,
and his fingers numb and swollen.
By and by poor Franz slept, and the city
became as silent and noiseless as the falling
snow, save the moaning and soughing of the
wind, and the clatter of blinds, and the banging
of loose shutters.
And the man who had left his horse in the
boy's charge -where was he?
It was on Christmas Eve, you know, and he
had gone down the street a few steps to get some
presents for his little ones, and not finding just
what he had looked for, he had been sent by the
sleepy salesman to a shop a few doors farther
down the street; and there he had met some
merry friends, who clapped him upon the shoul-
der, and laughed and chatted and badgered him
gaily as he selected the toys, and insisted upon
his getting into their covered wagon with his
armful of bundles. They would set him down
at his own door in less than no time, they said;
and he, as merry as they, full of thoughts of his
own little ones, but quite forgetting the horse and
that poor, half-frozen boy, enjoyed the jolly
drive homeward and was soon warming his toes
at his own fireside, the lightest-hearted but most
absent-minded man in town, as his friends knew

him to be. He felt that he had done a good
evening's work, and he looked upon the storm
itself simply as a merry Christmas prank that
served only to make matters livelier.
Poor Franz- poor little Holdfast." Fortu-
nately there were no papers to be delivered on
Christmas Day-but it was not for several days
thereafter that he was able to get out, and even
then, for a time he could get about only by the
help of crutches.
The sleighing had been fine, and all the city
was alive with merriment and good cheer. In
some of the smaller cities of the West, where
everybody knows everybody else, there is a
kindliness and friendship among all classes, that
we who live in great cities, and do not know
our next-door neighbors, often miss. Franz and
his mother had not been forgotten or neglected.
The best physician in the place had heard of
his illness, and, knowing him well, had come
in to see that all went on favorably with the
frozen feet.
The man who had forgotten him and the
horse, and who, indeed, often forgot for a space
his own wife and little ones, did all that money
could do to make amends; everybody sent the
boy presents; and the Holdfast Brigade was in
rather superfluous attendance, if the truth were
told. Franz enjoyed all the honors, and many
of the disadvantages, of having for the moment
become a hero in everybody's estimation.

If you go to his western city to-day, you will
hear Franz Holdfast" well spoken of- an hon-
ored though a modest citizen. He does not
own the town, and he is not governor of the
State. Since that Christmas Eve, everybody
knows that Franz Holdfast" (for the name
still clings to him) will keep his promises at
whatever cost. Respected by all, he has gained
that trust which is the foundation of honor
and prosperity. He is master of himself, and
a warm friend to small boys-especially on
Christmas Eve.
And this is the simple story of the hero of
the Holdfast Brigade.



A HAPPY NEW YEAR to us, one and all, my
friends--and the kind of happy year, too, that
will leave us better than it finds us. There is
always room for improvement, even in folks who
read ST. NICHOLAS. And now we '11 take up

WHAT kind of wood is a yule log? It need not
come from a yew tree. No, indeed. Yew trees
are sad, as a rule; but the yule log always has
merry Christmas in its heart, and is cheery even
when it is passing away in the bright glow of the
hearthstone. There are many pretty stories about
the yule log, and as for its being associated with
Christmas and jollity, the dear Little Schoolma'am
says you have only to search your big dictionaries
to find that out. Once discover what the word
"jolly" comes from, and you will see that words
sometimes are most unexpectedly related. In
Denmark, in speaking of Christmas Day, they
call it "Yule" and spell it "J-u-u-l." Now, is n't
that queer?

I AM not at all sure that any of you, my hearers,
wish to subscribe to an Eskimo journal; but if you
should have such a thing in contemplation, it
might be well for you to begin at once learning the
name of one which the Little Schoolma'am says
was held in high esteem by the Eskimos as late as
1874. She says it.may be even more prosperous
to-day, but she cannot be absolutely sure of this
as she is not one of its constant readers. Here is
the pretty name of this journal:
You will find it mentioned, I am told, in the
" Encyclopedia Britannica," Vol. VIII., page 546,

and its name is thus translated: "Somethingfor
Reading. Accounts of all Entertaining Subjects."

NEW YORK, November 12th.
DEAR MR. JACK: The other night, when we
all were sitting around a big fire, my brother read
aloud this astonishing bit of news from the evening

Point the hour-hand of a watch at the sun, that is in
a horizontal direction toward the sun. Then the south
point will be just half-way between the hour-hand and
the XII point.

Well, we were instantly interested, of course,
and upon examining papa's watch, it did seem to
be as the paper said; but we decided that the best
way would be to try it by the real sun itself. It
seemed a long way off-but we waited.
And, the next morning, when the sun shone
clear and bright, we children tried that experiment
with every watch in the house, and the rule worked
perfectly Brother Leslie even gave me the little
compass from his guard-chain because, as he said,
he should n't need it any more. We flew about
borrowing everyone's watch, and "trying" till
mama said we might as well all have been
weather-vanes. We wanted to turn the parlor
clock over on its back, but they would n't let us.
Yes, sir; morning, noon, and sundown, the rule
worked. Ask the boys and girls to try it.
Yours, MABEL J. S--

NEW YORK, Oct. 4, 1890.
DEAR JACK: As you and your chicks seem to
be interested to find out things about natural
history, I would like to submit this question to
their examination. At dinner to-day my eye hap-
pened to rest on the milk pitcher. I noticed a fly
alight on the rim and put down a grain of sugar,
nicely balanced on the edge of the pitcher. Then
he rubbed his fore legs together as flies often do -
and, trying to take hold of the grain again, he
started to walk along the edge of the pitcher.
Well, he did not have a good hold of the grain
and so dropped it, and it fell into the milk. Now,
the question is, what object had he in carrying it,
and where was he going? The sugar-bowl was
clear across the table, about four feet, so he must
have had some reason for his labor. C. B-
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: One day a circus
and menagerie train halted at the railway station
on its way through this town. Of course there was
great curiosity among the railroad men to inspect
this queer special train; and with the others the
engineer and the fireman of one of the locomotives
in the yard left their posts for a short time to see
the different menagerie cars.
When they came back and were ready to move
their locomotive, they noticed that the cover of the


water-tank was open! Further, they luckily dis-
covered that the tank was nearly empty although
it had been full to the brim when they left it.
Such an extraordinary thing had never hap-
pened before! No wonder there was great sur-
prise on all sides; every one knew the tank was
full when the men had left it; in fact some of the
" hands had seen it filled, neither was there a
leak in it, and yet, the tank was empty. The
question was, where had the water gone ?
Seven thirsty elephants, shut up all day and
all night in a car that gave them hardly room
to move; their warm bodies fairly touching one
another, a paltry allowance of water to quench
their thirst, and, then, to be left standing on the
hot railroad-track, the sun's rays pouring down


upon the roof of the car, and with only such air
as could come through the small open windows!
Was it any wonder, when their keen scent told
them water was near, that they should search for
it? How were they to know that it was not there
for their convenience. At any rate, no sooner were
the men gone, than through a small window of the
elephant car, the dusky trunk of an elephant made
its way sinuously out. Another followed its ex-

ample, then another, until seven trunks had felt
and snuffed around, over engine, tender, and coal.
What they sought was not there; but they still
kept moving about, and, coming to the water-tank,
one of them stopped, felt all over the cover, and
at last managed to get the finger-like end under
the edge of the cover. Then slowly and carefully
it was opened; when, behold there was what the
elephants wanted--water, and plenty of it. The
owner of that particular trunk took a long draught,
its companions meanwhile shoving and pushing
one another, in their anxiety to drink. One after
another they filled their trunks with the cool water,
and poured it down their dry parched throats.
How grateful! How refreshing After the long
dusty ride, with what keen enjoyment they squirted

01 -


the water over their tired, hot bodies, until they
were cool and comfortable.
The mystery of the empty tank was a mystery
but a short time. The keeper of the elephants on
visiting the car had found it and the elephants
deluged with water. A few inquiries, and the
matter was explained to everyone's satisfaction.
Yours truly,
M. B. D.



Time: Christmas morning.
Scene: Vicinity of everywhere. A cold day.

A LITTLE GIRL, who is "not in it."
MR. SANTA CLAUS, a benevolent and well-meaning
old gentleman, unusually fond of children.

LITTLE GIRL: a la ragbag.
MR. S. CLAUS: Furs and an engaging smile.
(MR. S. CLAUS enters during paper snow-storm, care-
lessly swinging his empty pack.)
S. C.-My work is done, and now my goal
Is a little north of the old north-pole!
(LITTLE GIRL enters "left." Runs after S. C. and
catches his coat.)
L.G.-But, Mr. Claus, one moment stay!
Listen, before you hurry away;
Neither in stocking nor on tree
Has any present been left for me

S. C.-You 've no present? That's too bad!
I 'd like to make all children glad.
There 's something wrong; the fact is
I 'm very sorry indeed, my dear.

I brought an endless lot of toys
To millions and millions of girls and
But, still, there are so many about
Some have been overlooked, no doubt!

L. G.-Well, Santa Claus, I know you 're kind,
And mean to bear us all in mind.
But I can't see the reason why
We poor are oftenest passed by.

S. C.-It 's true, my child. I can't but say
I have a very curious way
Of bringing presents to girls and boys
Who have least need of pretty toys,
And giving books, arid dolls, and rings
To those who already have such things.
'T is done for a very curious reason
Suggested by the Christmas season:
Should I make my gifts to those whQ need,
'T would become a time of general greed,
When all would think, "What shall we
"What shall we give ? they would quite
So when I send my gifts to-day
'T is a hint: You have plenty to give
And then I leave some poor ones out
That thericher mayfind,astheylook about,
Their opportunities near at hand
In every corner of the land.
My token to those who in plenty live
Is a gentle reminder, meaning

(Curtain, and distribution of presents by the
thoughtful audience after they reach home.)


DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I am an English girl, making my
first visit to Washington, and I should like to tell you,
as you are one of America's great friends, how much I
like it.
I have been here since July, and since my arrival I
have been to Canada, San Francisco, Chicago, New York,
and a great many smaller cities; I think I like New
York best of all.
I am traveling with my uncle and eldest brother. I have
five other brothers; two are fifteen and seventeen years
old, and they live in London with my papa; the others
are grown, and one lives in St. Petersburg, Russia; one
is in India, with his regiment, and the other is a naval
officer. They are all very good to me, as I am the
youngest of all, and they pet me a great deal; I think
brothers are lovely, but I know some girls who think their
brothers are horrid (some of them are).
I remain your loving admirer,

(By a young contributor.)
JOY is a beautiful thing--
It keeps sorrow back;
Joy makes the little birds sing,
And the little ducks go quack, quack.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I owe the pleasure of reading
you to my uncle, who sends you to me as a birthday
present. He could not have thought of anything nicer
had he tried for years.
My little brother was once standing by the window
during a heavy thunder-storm. He was told to come
away and replied. "No, I want to see God light
A good many have mentioned their different ways of
making dolls, some with flowers, and some with potatoes;
my way is to cut the pictures out of fashion plates, and
arrange them in groups, some sitting, some lying down,
and some leaning against tables or chairs.
Your sincere admirer, FLORENCE L- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We are two little Canadian
children, and we have something to tell you, which we
hope may interest you. We have an uncle (by marriage),
Chas. Corbould, Esq., who was a midshipman in his
Majesty's service at the time of Napoleon's imprison-
ment at Elba.
The commander of his ship had at one time been a
prisoner of war in France, and had received great kind-
ness at the hands of the Emperor. So when his ship
was near Elba he resolved to put in there, and go and
pay his respects to Napoleon.
It so happened that Uncle Corbould was detailed to
go with him on shore; we think he said he was orderly
for the day."
However, he went with the captain on shore, where
the latter paid his respects to Napoleon, and, when the
interview had ended, the great Emperor turned to Uncle

Corbould, and, laying his hand on his shoulder, said to
him in English:
And you, my little man, how long have you served
his Britannic Majesty ?"
Affectionately yours,

MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Have you ever had a letter
from West Point? I have lived here three years, and
like it very much. Of course you know what a lovely spot
it is, for it is so near New York. I have lived in the army
all my life. I was born at Fort Stevens, at the mouth
of the Columbia River. I have lived at seven forts: Fort
Stevens, Fort Monroe, Fort Trumbull, Fort Adams, Fort
Selling, Fort Warren, and here; though Fort Snelling
and West Point are not real forts. I wonder how many
little girls could tell in what States these forts are? I
am ten years old. Your friend,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We have a literary cat; he is
fond of newspapers. He will not lie in any chair that
has not a paper in it. He has a paper for a table-cloth,
which he carries on his back to a certain corner of the
room, where he is fed. We call him the Old Man."
He is the greatest hunter anywhere around. Nearly
every evening at nine o'clock, we hear him calling like
an old mother cat, for us to come and see his prize; very
often it is a large rat. I have three other nice cats; also
pretty colts and calves.
My home is in the beautiful Berkshires, and I love it
dearly. Your friend, HELEN T. M-

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am only a little shaver, three
years and seven months, but have taken two of your vol-
umes. Papa and grandma show me the pictures, and tell
me the stories, for mama is not living. I have a big dog,
and lots of books and toys, and go to kindergarten five
mornings a week. I am going to stand in my express
wagon to post this. PERCY ARNOLD R-.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I wrote you a letter quite a
while ago, but it was not printed, and so I try again.
Mama says I wrote in too much of a hurry. I never
read a description of San Jose in the Letter-Box. It
is a pretty town, situated between two mountain-ranges,
in a valley filled with little fruit farms. We can have
strawberries every month of the year. Sometimes in
winter we can see snow on the mountains, when it is
green in the valley. We can see Mount Hamilton from
our house. On the summit of it is the Lick Observa-
tory which has the greatest telescope in the world.
There are a great many people from the East and
Europe who visit the observatory; they go with a six-
horse team. They start about six o'clock in the evening,
Saturday, and, after looking at the stars, return at three
in the morning. Most people here go to the seaside or
to the mountains during the summer months.
Your loving reader, MABEL M--


DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: As I have not seen many letters
to you about your charming "Lady Jane," I think I will
write you that it is the greatest success of the season.
Mrs. Jamison certainly is a delightful writer, and we
hope Lady Jane will not be the last gem from her pen.
Dear Lady Jane is so fascinating, and Tite Souris so
The letter from "An Admirer of the ST. NICHO-
LAS," speaks of "The Iturbide," once the palace of the
Emperor Iturbide, and now a hotel in that old city of
Mexico. This made me conclude to tell you that we
girls have the grave of one of the daughters of the
ex-Emperor in our cloister, and the sisters often show it
to us when we go through the convent once a year. Per-
haps you have read in the life of John Quincy Adams,
his reflections on the fleeting honors of this world, while
he was crowning the ex-Princess at one of the com-
mencements in this old convent. On Miss Iturbide's
tombstone the date, Oct. 2, 1828, seems a long time ago
to youngsters. I must say good-bye, dear ST. NICHOLAS.
Yours, MARY W--.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : Papa is the chief engineer on
the M. P. L. I have two sisters and one brother.
We have four parrakeets. I have one horse of my own.
The natives here are lazy. They wear clothes that do
not cost more than two dollars a year. You can buy
here six oranges for a cent and a half.
We live in the southern part of Mexico, on the Pacific
Ocean. We came from Tonal. here on horseback, one
hundred and fifty miles. At one time we were three
thousand feet above the ocean, twenty-four miles south
of us.
The houses are made of mud bricks; they are square,
with a courtyard in the middle.
They raise three crops of corn in a year.
They have coffee plantations here; the coffee is good.
There is a church here that they know, without a doubt,
to be one hundred and fifty years old, and many believe
to be much older. I have lived here ten months, but I
can not speak much Spanish. J D. -.
We take the ST. NICHOLAS, and sometimes we have a
long wait for it. When it comes there is a grand rush
for it.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Quebec-quaint, picturesque,
old Quebec was one of the most interesting, by far, of
the places I visited last summer, and it may be that a few
words concerning "The Gibraltar of America" will not
be out of place. I enjoyed the Thousand Islands, the
Rapids of the noble St. Lawrence, and sight-seeing in
Montreal; but Quebec took me by storm. It is very
easy, when strolling about the narrow streets of this fas-
cinating old town, to realize that one is in a city nearly
three centuries old, and not hard to realize that one is
not at home. The city is intensely foreign in aspect.
"Quebec is the most fascinating city I 've ever seen,"
said one Buffalo girl, and I, though I have seen many
of the most famous places in both the Old World and the
New, consider it one of the most picturesque and inter-
esting I 've ever beheld. I boarded, while there, in the
family of a French Protestant clergyman, where grace
was said at the table in the French language, by a gen-
tleman from Montreux, Switzerland. As we approached
the city on the morning of the first of August, and I

looked from the steamer's deck-I could not bear to
enter a city like Quebec by rail to the Citadel, and saw
the British colors flying in the breeze, I thought, with a
thrill at my heart: Oh! how much it cost to plant those
colors there! Of course I visited the Plains of Abra-
ham, and saw the Monument with its impressive inscrip-
tion: Here Wolfe fell, victorious." There is much to
see in this old-time city, and yet when I told a business
man whom I met on the St. Lawrence that I had spent
a week in Quebec, he exclaimed in forcible, if not classic,
diction: "Land! I would n't stay in Quebec longer than
a day and a half, if you 'd pay me." But I stayed in the
old French town a week only to realize that I would like
to stay a fortnight. How I enjoyed going up and down
Breakneck Staircase, in picturesque Little Champlain
Street, strolling up and down the Terrace, where all
Quebec walks at will, and looking upon the view of great
and varied beauty it commands; going to the Montcalm
Market where, on Fridays and Saturdays, the French
habitans from the surrounding country congregate with
their stock of fruits, flowers, and vegetables, and last, but
not least, strolling up and down the ancient streets of the
Lower Town. Quebec streets have queer names: as,
Holy Family, Lachevrotiere, D'Aiguillon, Sous Le Fort,
etc. But, however much I may enjoy Quebec as a tourist,
I 'm glad that I don't live there.
I miss Buffalo's shade-trees, Buffalo's verandas, Buf-
falo's beautiful homes; in short, Buffalo's beauty. Now
I am in the Queen City of the Lakes," and from the
window at which I sit and write, I can look out upon
the beautiful, blue Niagara, and upon the International
Bridge between the British dominions and our own.
But I '11 not say another word for fear of saying too much.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I thought I would write you
about my seeing little Elsie Leslie here in Lincoln. She
was only here one night; she played in the "Prince and
the Pauper," which is one of Mark Twain's stories.
I enjoyed seeing the play ever so much, and would
not have been so interested if I had not read that inter-
esting article in your magazine about "Elsie Leslie."
The serial story you just commenced in the November
number, entitled The Boy Settlers," is very interesting
to me, because I am familiar with the place in which the
scene was laid. All my life till three months ago was
spent within twenty miles of Dixon. I have heard my
grandfather quite often speak of Father Dixon. My
grandfather has seen him a good many times.
My grandfather lives at Fulton, where the Howells
and Bryants crossed the Mississippi.
Your devoted reader, BESSIE H. N- .

WE thank the young friends whose names follow for
pleasant letters received from them: Margaret H. D.,
Ethelwynne K., Lilian S., Charlotte T., Gaston O. W.
G. and A. B., M. B. C., Monica B., Carrie R. E., W.
Neyle C.,June B., Harold R. T., Beatrix S. M., William
H. H., Sarah E. C., Lycurgus J. W., Katie D., Edward
A. H., Paul A. L., Walter F. S., Abigail G., E. P. L.,
Will D., Clara M., Nannie B. G., Morty J. K., Mary L.
B., Josie E. D., A. W. W., Marion R., Winifred C. D.,
Cora and Mary, Nora M..Charles W., Olive P., Adelaide
Y. M., Lilly M., Edith H., Ethel H., Alice H., G. B. S.,
Cecelia C., Fannie, Elsie, and Louise B., Rose L., S. W.
D. and S. M. McL., Yronne, Rita McN., Elsie T., Helen
S., Laura Van A., Lucile E. T., Jennie McC. S.


WORD-SQUARES. I. I. Drama. 2. Robed. 3. Abide. 4. Medal. SCOTTISH DIAGONAL PUZZLE. Diagonals: Hogmanay. Cross-
5. Adele. II. i. Redan. 2. Evade. 3. Dazes. 4. Adept. 5. Nests. words: i. Hebrides. 2. Holyrood. 3. Bagpipes. 4. Balmoral. 5. Mar-
garet. 6. John Knox. 7. Galloway. 8. Waverley.
Pi. Send the ruddy fire-light higher; ANAGRAM. Oliver Wendell Holmes.
Draw your easy-chair up nigher; OBLIQUE RECTANGLE. I. P. 2. Bet. 3. Bides. 4. Pedants.
Through the winter, bleak and chill, 5. Tensile. 6. Stipend. 7. Slender. 8. Endured. 9. Derived.
We may have our summer still. Io. Revived. ii. Devon. x2. Den. 13. D.
Here are poems we may read, HALF-SQUARES. 1. I. Batman. 2. Avert. 3. Teas. 4. Mrs.
Pleasant fancies to our need: 5. At. 6. N. II. Ecuador. 2. Cannon. 3. Unite. 4. Ante.
Ah, eternal summer-time 5. Doe. 6. On. 7. R.
Dwells within the poet's rhyme DOUBLE CROSS-WORD ENIGMA. Christmas, mistletoe.
"December," by INA D. COOLBRITH. COMPOUND DOUBLE ACROSTICS. I. Cross-words: I. Trig. 2. Anne.
CHRISTMAS PUZZLE. From x to 14, Sir Isaac Newton; 15 to 26, 3. Rest. II. 1. Pair. 2. Arno. 3. Raft. III. i. Anti. 2. Sear.
Christmas Day. Cross-words: i. Chest. 2. Melon. 3. Tower. 3. Pile.
4. Sacks. 5. Diary. 6. Snake. 7. Paint. 8. Fairy. WORD-BUILDING. I, in, sin, pins, snipe, ripens, pincers, princess.
To OUR PUZZLERS: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the i5th of each month, and
should be addressed to ST. NICHOLAS Riddle-box," care of THE CENTURY CO., 33 East Seventeenth St., New York City.
ANSWERS TO ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE OCTOBER NUMBER were received, before October i5th, from Paul Reese -Maud E.
Palmer- M. Josephine Sherwood -Mamma and Jamie "The McGs."-" The Sisters "- Grace, Edith, and Jo E. M. G.- Arthur
Gride- Alice Mildred Blanke -" Ayis "- Jo and I Lehte "-" Mohawk Valley "- Ralph Rainsford W. L.- Blanche and Fred -
"The Owls"- Effie K. Talboys Nellie L. Howes Hollis Lapp Aunt Martha and Mabel--John W. Frothingham, Jr.-" Miss
Flint "-" The Wise Five "-" The Spencers "-" Uncle Mung "-" Nick McNick "- Ida C. Thallon Pearl F. Stevens-" A Family
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE OCTOBER NUMBER were received, before October x5th, from M. Ella Gordon, i- Maud E. Palm-
er, 1o-Rosalind, -Phyllis, 2--Edythe P. J., ix-Honora Swartz, 4-" The Lancer," 2-A. H. Stephens, i -R. MacNeill, i-
C. Bell, I -A. M. Robinson, i-Clara and Emma, i- Mabel S. Meredith, 2- G. V., I- Katie M. W., 9- Grace P. Lawrence, 6-
H. M. C. and Co., 4 A. P. C., S. W., and A. W. Ashhurst, 9 Nellie, Ailie, and Lily, i Z. N. Z. K., I -" B. and Soda," --Elsie
LaG. Cole, Clara, 5- Charles Blackburne Keefer, 5-W. W. Linsly, 3- Eliza F. D., 2-H. A. R., io -"Two Dromios," 4-
Victor V. Van Vorst, 4-" Paganini and Liszt," 9-Lisa Bloodgood, 5- Hubert Bingay, 1o-" Pye," 2-Sissie Hunter, i- Robert
A. Stewart, 9 -Mabel S. R., -"Amer," 8- Grandma and Arthur, 8 -"May and 79," 8- M. H. Perkins, -" Rector's Daugh-
ter," 4-Mary S. K., x-Nellie and Reggie, o--"Charles Beaufort," io-Camp, io--Emily Dembitz, 9--"Squire," 6-" H. P.
H. S.," 4 -" The Nutshell," 7 Bird and Moll, o0 Rachel A. Shepard, 1o Arthur G. Lewis, 9 Alex. Armstrong, Jr., 6 C. H. P.
and A. G., 9 Eugenie De Stael, 2 Adele Walton, 6- Wallingford," 7- Dora Newton Bertie, 7- A. O. F., 4-" Mr. F's Aunt," i.

NOVEL ACROSTIC. II. I. A chariot. 2. A large basin. 3. A company
l of travelers. 4. Cupidity. 5. Became re-animated. 6. A
ALL of the cross-words contain the kind of black snake. 7. A masculine nickname.
Same number of letters. When these "SAM U. ELL."
are rightly guessed, and placed one be- CUBE
low the other, in the order here given,
the first row of letters, reading down-
ward, and the third row, reading upward, will both spell
the same holiday.
CROSS-WORDS: I. An old word meaning awatchword.
2. A subterfuge. 3. Stuffing. 4. Relating to the day
last past. 5. Sooner. 6. Similarity. 7. P.ertaining to 5 ..... 6
the Rhine. 8. Cunning. 9. A rich widow. o1. A salt
formed by the union of acetic acid with a base. II.
Citizens of New England. ARTHUR GRIDE.

I. A black bird. 2. To love. 3. Elects. 4. Upright.
5. Abodes. E. H. LAWRENCE.
7 8
FROM I to 2, a castle; from 2 to 4, referees; from I to
3, a large kettle; from 3 to 4, races ; from 5 to 6, clear;
from 6 to 8, fatiguing; from 5 to 7, oriental; from 7 to
8, opinions; from I to 5, to give up; from 2 to 6, one;
from 4 to 8, drinks a little at a time; from 3 to 7, part of
the day. "KETTLEDRUM."


I. I. A vehicle. 2. A scriptural name meaning a I. A vowel. 2. A preposition. 3. A color. 4. A
palm tree. 3. Pertaining to heat. 4. A musical term small lake. 5. A retinue. 6. Ranking. 7. Pulling apart.
meaning in a tender, slow manner. 5. The degree of 8. A city in Africa. 9. Conquering. o1. A superficial
honor above a knight. 6. Ascended. 7. A small house. knowledge. ELDRED AND ALICE.



ALL of the words described contain the same number
of letters. When rightly guessed and placed one below
the other, the primals will spell the name of one who was
" without fear and without reproach "; the finals will spell
the surname of a President of the United States; the
primals and finals connected will spell the name of an
author and traveler who was born on January II, 1825.
CROSS-WORDS : I. A covering for the head. 2. A fleet
of armed ships. 3. Annually. 4. Starry. 5. A kind
of rust on plants. 6. A circuitous route. c. D.

I. IN thimble. 2. A useful article. 3. Always on
hand. 4. An Australian bird. 5. In thimble.


EXAMPLE : A recompense ; to suppose. Answer,
meed, deem.
I. A coal wagon; a place of public sale. 2. A famous
island; having power. 3. A deceiver; to reproach.
4. The place where Napoleon gained a victory in 1796;
an object of worship. 5. A volcano in Sicily; a Latin
prefix. 6. Active ; calamity. 7. One quarter of an acre;
entrance. 8. To boast; clothing. 9. Wounded; the god
of love. o1. To glide smoothly; an animal. II. There-
fore; an imaginary monster. 12. To look askance; a
dance. 13. A share; a snare. 14. An exclamation of
contempt; a band of wood.
All of the words described are of equal length, and,
when reversed and placed one below the other, the ini-
tials will spell the name of an authoress who was born
in England on January I, 1767. DYCIE.


2. A decree
finished i


2. A sailor. 3. Wearies. 4. A traveling menagerie.
5. To carouse. 6. The chemical term for salt. 7. In
III. CENTRAL DIAMOND: I. In lances. 2. Three-
fourths of a word meaning mysterious. 3. Natives of
Denmark. 4. Part of a soldier's outfit. 5. A bird. 6. A
diocese. 7. In lances.
2. To injure. 3. A word used in architecture, meaning
the plain surface between the channels of a triglyph.
4. A design colored for working in mosaic or tapestry.
5. To perch. 6. A drunkard. 7. In lances.
2. A fish. 3. A mistake. 4. Irritable. 5. To free from
restraint. 6. To deplore. 7. In lances. F. s. F.


4' *


ACROSS: I. In Congress. 2. A vulgar person. 3. The
Christian name of a poor toy-maker in "The Cricket on
the Hearth." 4. The Indian cane, a plant of the palm
family. 5. Modest. 6. A place of exchange. 7. To
look for.
By cutting off the last letter of the fifth word, the last
two of the sixth, and the last three of the seventh, a com-
plete diamond will be left. COUSIN FRANK.


I AM composed of one hundred and twelve letters, and
am a quotation from an essay entitled New Year's Eve."
.. My 41-32-98 is large. My 76-94-47-18-o1 is a young
person. My 62-37-112-50-80 is to draw up the shoulders
.. to express indifference. My 83-67-22-26-104 is part of
S, .. a rake. My 6-73-88-59-44 is a small table. My 64-54-
3-15-24-Ioo-86 is a large boat with two masts, and usu-
ally rigged like a schooner. My 57-70-8-34-102 is to
4 boast. My 43-96-49 is to dress in a fanciful manner.
My 91-30-79 is an inhabitant of Hungary. My 107-1-
53-no is solitary. My 39-7-74-71 is in a short time.
. My 12-81-9-55 is to mulct. My 2-28-97 is marsh. My
90-65-52-4 is the hair of sheep. My 48-61-78-20-105
is tumult. My 68-o11-25-31-58-14 and my o16-o19-
82-63-17-46, each names a marine bivalve. My 36-11-
40-84 is one of an ancient tribe who took an important
part in subverting the Roman empire. My 51-92-103-
33-77 is to hurl. My 29-42-108-45-23 is a norm. My
PER LEFT-HAND DIAMOND: I. In lances. 16-75-69-72-19-38 is a package. My 93-27-13-95-66-
:e. 3. Limited to a place. 4. Concise. 5. Di- 85-99 5-III-60-21 is the author of the quotation on
n size. 6. A cover. 7. In lances, which this enigma is founded, and my 87-89-35-56 is the
PER RIGHT-HAND DIAMOND: I. In lances. name under which he wrote. "CORNELIA BLIMBER."


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