Front Cover
 From ship to shore
 The monarch of Olla
 The genial grimalkin
 Tom Paulding
 The man who married the moon
 Hold fast Tom
 The boomerang
 Johnny's reckoning
 A year with Dolly
 Little Mr. Quimbo
 Two girls and a boy
 The seal's crystal palace
 Artesia of Tulare
 When I was your age
 Near and far
 An adventure with an alligator
 Jack's letter
 The admiral's caravan
 Almost a quadruped
 Toy verses
 What Marcia is reading
 A page of beetles
 A bright idea
 The letter box
 The riddle box
 Back Cover

Title: St. Nicholas
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00252
 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: VID00252
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
        Page 322
    From ship to shore
        Page 323
        Page 324
        Page 325
        Page 326
        Page 327
        Page 328
    The monarch of Olla
        Page 329
        Page 330
        Page 331
    The genial grimalkin
        Page 332
    Tom Paulding
        Page 333
        Page 334
        Page 335
        Page 336
        Page 337
        Page 338
        Page 339
    The man who married the moon
        Page 340
        Page 341
        Page 342
        Page 343
        Page 344
        Page 345
    Hold fast Tom
        Page 346
        Page 347
        Page 348
    The boomerang
        Page 349
        Page 350
    Johnny's reckoning
        Page 351
    A year with Dolly
        Page 352
    Little Mr. Quimbo
        Page 353
        Page 354
        Page 355
        Page 356
    Two girls and a boy
        Page 357
        Page 358
        Page 359
        Page 360
        Page 361
        Page 362
        Page 363
        Page 364
        Page 365
    The seal's crystal palace
        Page 366
        Page 367
    Artesia of Tulare
        Page 368
        Page 369
        Page 370
    When I was your age
        Page 371
        Page 372
        Page 373
        Page 374
    Near and far
        Page 375
    An adventure with an alligator
        Page 376
        Page 377
        Page 378
    Jack's letter
        Page 379
    The admiral's caravan
        Page 380
        Page 381
        Page 382
        Page 383
        Page 384
        Page 385
    Almost a quadruped
        Page 386
        Page 387
        Page 388
    Toy verses
        Page 389
    What Marcia is reading
        Page 390
        Page 391
        Page 392
        Page 393
    A page of beetles
        Page 394
    A bright idea
        Page 395
    The letter box
        Page 396
        Page 397
        Page 398
    The riddle box
        Page 399
        Page 400
        Page 401
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text




MARCH, 1892.



I REMEMBER well, when I was living upon
a broad arm of the Potomac River, what keen
delight I took in paddling about in a little
boat; sometimes gliding up a narrow creek
shadowed by the overhanging boughs of a
gloomy pine forest; sometimes deftly steering
into a favorite landing in the crotch of a dead
and fallen tree; sometimes lying peacefully be-
side a mossy bank; and sometimes sailing
from point to point with an old cedar-bush for
a sail. No doubt hundreds of you who read
this magazine take the same delight in han-
dling a little boat of your own on pretty lakes,
or rivers, or bays. To you I say, first learn to
swim, then learn to handle your boat in every
possible way.
Many of you have stood on the beach at the
seaside, and watched the seas rolling in heavy
breakers after a storm, curling and crashing
into volumes of foam and broken water, with
such force as to send them sweeping up almost
to your feet. It is through such waves that
men who follow the sea must at times pass in
reaching the shore; but not through one or
two on a smooth, quick-shelving beach, but
through thirty or forty, perhaps, covering a mile

of treacherous shoals, and at places surging be-
tween jagged reefs and huge boulders.
With intense interest we read of dreadful
shipwrecks almost every week. The survivors
tell how the big ship labored and struggled
through monster billows and shrieking wind,
under black flying clouds and amid jagged
streaks of lightning, until, mastless and helpless,
she lay exhausted in the trough of the sea, and
passively received the crashing deluge of merci-
less waves until she sank. They tell how they,
poor puny human beings, clung to helm and
pumps till the great ship's struggles were over
and it became evident that she could carry them
no longer; then how they hastily threw a cask
of water and a few provisions into some remain-
ing boat, and at a favorable moment launched
upon the angry waters in a craft so frail that it
seemed as if all on board were doomed to instant
Here always comes the strangest part of their
narrative. Read all such accounts carefully,
and you will find that in nearly every case
where such a little boat is safely launched from
an abandoned ship, it floats and drifts for days
and even weeks on the open ocean, living

Copyright, i892, by THE CENTURY Co. All rights reserved.


No. 5.


through the dreadful tempest which wrecked
the big ship, sailing buoyantly through calmer
seas, and finally bringing the survivors within
sight of other ships or land.
This will not seem so strange to you after
you have been much upon the ocean. You
will then see how the big ship is so large and
long that the driving wind can almost turn her
over, and several waves can attack her at once.
The wind will literally hold her down while the
great waves beat upon her. When a little boat
is launched, however, she is so small that only
one big wave attacks her at a time, and she
can ride over it like a cork. Its broken edge
sometimes pours into the boat, but with constant
care and bailing she can be kept afloat. More-
over, the very size of the waves shields the tiny
craft from the driving wind, save for the mo-
ments when she is on their crests.
I have said that the little boat usually brings
its occupants safely within sight of a ship or
land. If you are ever so cast away, choose that
you may sight a ship rather than land. Only
too often the fierce storm is weathered, and the
hopeful crew sail over hundreds of miles of
sunny seas, almost as if on a pleasure-trip, until
the glad sight of land greets their eyes, and
their troubles seem but a dream of the past,
when suddenly they are plunging through a
mass of white and broken water, and amid the
roar of crashing waves the little boat is lifted
and twisted and flung about till dashed into
fragments upon jagged rocks; while those sur-
vivors of terrible storm and shipwreck, of un-
counted miles of open ocean, are thrown upon
the sunny beach which gladdened their hearts,
cruelly battered or perhaps even lifeless! Al-
most always, too, this is due to their not know-
ing how to handle their boat at this crowning,
critical moment when but a few hundred yards
remain of a thousand-mile journey from ship to
What, then, should be done at such a time?
When the breakers are sighted, experienced
boatmen lie at a safe distance outside of the
surf and make these simple preparations: They
take off any loose or cumbersome clothing, such
as their coats, which might be washed up over
their heads, or their boots or shoes, which would
fill with water and drag upon them. If there

are no tanks or lockers in which they can stow
these things, they throw them overboard; for
floating articles will follow them ashore, while if
the boat is upset a man does n't care to have
an overcoat wrapped about his face or legs, or
a heavy boot to pound him on the head. If
there are air-tanks or lockers in the boat, they
put in them all remaining food, besides in-
struments and unnecessary clothing, and make
them as water-tight as possible. They put on
life-preservers if they have them. They throw
overboard all masts and sails, even the cask of
water-only they make sure that the bung is in
the latter. The helmsman ships an oar to steer
with instead of a rudder, if he has not already
been using one.
Now that they are prepared to land, they next
must seek a place to land, and here their early
training, although they may not be conscious of
it, will first aid them. One stands up in the
boat that he may see as far as possible. The
rowers skirt the breakers at a safe distance,
seeking a place where there are fewest of them
between the boat and the shore, where the beach
seems steep and clean, where no treacherous
rocks protrude when the seas recede. All these
conditions may not exist in the same spo.t.
Good judgment alone can determine the best
place under varying conditions.
Selecting a landing-place, the men wait for
an opportunity. By lying outside and watch-
ing the breakers, they find that after a certain
number of heavy ones there is a quiet interval,
and after several counts they know when to
expect this interval and take advantage of it.
If there are but two or three lines of bad break-
ers near a seemingly steep beach, a bold dash,
bows on, during this interval of quiet, will prob-
ably land them high and dry.
Much more frequently, however, the water
will shoal far out from the shore, and many
lines of breakers will have to be passed. The
quiet interval will be too short to allow a boat
to reach the shore. Only courage, coolness,
quickness, and good judgment can save the men
in the battle for life which must then be
fought. They select a place where the break-
ers seem to roll in parallel to the beach and
not slantingly, and then they row toward them
as close as they can with safety, and turn the


boat's bow out to sea. Next, they back in perience and judgment can tell how to pass them
rapidly when the quiet time comes, but keep with more than occasional success. By pulling
the boat's bow pointed squarely at the break- a few strokes toward the sea, a wave may pass
ers. The lull is too soon over, and the battle under the boat just before it breaks. Then what
begins. A mountainous sea comes rolling in a ride they have! More swiftly than by express
and mounting upward from a rounded crest train they are shot shoreward by a mighty
to a thin green edge, which tumbles above power utterly beyond control. The roar around
them. Then the nearer side seems to pause, and them is frightful, and the swirling, broken water
from the green edge sweeps hissing backward terrifying, but while that speeding lasts they
a curling, feathery spray, as the farther side are safe. Every effort is always made to keep
of the wave seems to rush over the nearer and on the back of that shore-rushing wave. It
descend with a
crashing roar
in overwhelm-
ing volumes of -
whitened surf.
If the little
boat is caught

she may be S;:k. t. ,. wa
thrown end
over end, or
slued so far a- ,-,
round that the
next sea will
roll her over --, -
and over; and
even if skil- -Or
ful manage-
ment should
keep her head AN UPSET IN THE SURF.
to sea she would soon be completely swamped. was an enemy a moment before, but now it
These points where the seas break must then is a guiding friend. The boatmen back in
be eluded as often as possible, but only ex- upon it with all their might, but watching all



r.. _.. -'


the time, for the next wave to rise and form
for attack.
When the welcome shore is close at hand
the helmsman presses down the loom or shaft
of the steering-oar; otherwise the blade would
suddenly catch in the sand, the boat would rush
over it, and as it pivoted in the oarlock the oar
would fling the man far astern. Lucky would
he be if there was still water to fall upon!
When the boat touches bottom, all hands
spring overboard, and, seizing her gunwales,
rush her high up on the beach; otherwise the
waves would do this for them, probably broad-
side on, and in a very ruthless manner, perhaps
breaking bones and crushing the boat, as if
angry at the men's escape.

shore is still great, but seek to get away from the
thrashing oars, which might stun them. They try
rather to float than to swim, saving their strength
for the moment when they first touch the sand.
Then is the difficult time; to escape they must
stagger shoreward against an outrushing torrent
of sandy water, and even at best they will
reach the land exhausted. Then, as soon as
they are able, they rush as far out as their foot-
hold is safe, and aid their companions who may
be more exhausted than themselves.
There are boats especially designed for
launching and landing through surf. They
curve up very high at both ends, so as to ride
over breakers easily and glide well up on a
beach, and they are much broader than ordi-
nary boats, to
make it harder
to upset them.

SIn the bow and

IT GTbothsidesunder
the thwarts they
have air-tight
tanks, so that
they float light-
ly even if filled
Should the worst catastrophe come, and the the bow and stern tanks can be stowed instru-
boat be overturned in the surf, the men do not ments, bread, and such other things as must be
try to swim back to her unless the distance from kept dry. These boats are built unusually strong,


4_--'. g5


and can stand hard knocks. Every ship should
have at least one surf-boat. The pictures show
you just such a boat, built and used for land-
ing through surf during a survey on the Pacific
coast. In her were made many dangerous
landings. In spite of her good qualities there

whenever they are upset, and they have false
bottoms high up inside with little scuppers all
around just on a level with the false bottom,
so that all water will run out as soon as the
boat rights herself. But such boats are consid-
ered too heavy to carry aboard ship.

.1J *-*,. 4, 't

-' L gb- *S.C

~~... $i A. A %G
-J ~~r%#i<
~ Fia *


were frequent upsets, but the crew was well
trained and fearless, so that there was never
loss of life.
The boats at life-saving stations have still
other good qualities. They have heavy lead
keels which will turn them right side up again

It is always interesting to watch a boatful
of men, conducting a small boat in safety from
ship to shore.
Whenever you have to make a landing through
the waves, whether from a lake or from the sea,
remember how it is done by sailors.



DEAR Mother Dusk hath stolen in,
And, close unto the chimney tall,
Her wheel doth swiftly turn and spin,
And straightway darker shadows fall,

And straightway red the flame doth start,
The hearthstone is alight once more;
While shifting phantom fires dart
Athwart the ceiling and the floor.

Outside, a giant wind in vain
Hath striven for a welcome here,
And now upon the window-pane
Soft, truant snowflakes whirl and peer.

But let the giant madly blow!
What matter if he storms or grieves?
For, from the fiery embers' glow,
Dear Mother Dusk a story weaves.

Methinks it could not well be told,
Because, in truth, 't is seen, not spoke;

The princess, though, hath hair of gold,
The ogre's beard is curling smoke,

And where his charred old castle stands,
Beside the moat and drawbridge there,
We see her wring her lily hands,
We spy that lovely floating hair!

Fain would we to her rescue fly,
When lo, the drawbridge down doth crash!
Princess and ogre buried lie
Where starry sparks and flames upflash!

Dear Mother Dusk hath stopped her wheel,
And all the hearthstone brighter gleams;
Night hath crept in, and she doth steal
To make a place for Jack o' Dreams.

But Oh, the grim old ogre strong!
And Oh, the princess in the tower!-
Through echoes dim of slumber-song
We feel that magic twilight hour.

B '' PI~
'r '

To the court of Olla, the Island of Ease,
Two wise men came one day.
On a geological journey bound,
With hammer and chisel, the wide world
They were visiting isle and continent,
And winning, wherever their steps they
By explanation and argument
Their way.

But here, as soon as they went to work,
In Olla, the Island of Ease,
A personage, dignified, florid, and bland,
Came hurriedly out to them, hat in hand.
"The Monarch of Olla regrets," said he,
"This manifestation of industry,
Desires you will stop it immediately,
If you please.

" Objects to your chipping the royal rocks,
Dislikes scientific research,
Hard facts, and harsh noises, and ham-
mers and such,
And does n't like gray-headed men very
In short, your departure, good sirs, I sug-
gest "
And, bowing (his manners were quite of
the best),

He left the two scholars, perplexed and
In the lurch.

"This Monarch of Olla, I hear," said one,
"Is only a child, forsooth!
Yet a sovereign child is a sovereign still,
And has, without doubt, a tyrannical will;

~P u,


And how to deal with the infant mind
Is a difficult problem at best, I find,
To the clearest logic so hopelessly blind
Is youth."

Then down they sat in the sand to mourn
Their lost geological joys,
Till a fisher-maid, with a bright black eye,
Came strolling, listening, smiling by.
" Good sirs," said she, "may I make so bold ?
The Monarch of Olla is eight years old,
And remarkably fond, I 've often been
Of toys! "

They started, they smiled, they stroked their
With a dignified, deep delight;
They telegraphed straight to the nearest
Where dwelt a toyman of much renown,
And ordered from him in the greatest haste
A whip with a handle silver-chased,
A ball with the costliest broidery traced,
And a kite

Of wonderful beauty and monstrous size,
Embossed in rich design;
A banjo of gold with a tuneful twang,
And a golden gun with a patent "bang";
A bicycle (safety) and trumpets and
(The noisiest each of its kind that comes),
And a number of tops with a number of
Very fine;

A train of cars that would run all day
At a genuine railway rate;
An army of men in a golden box,
And a trunkful of golden building-blocks;-
In short, they ordered each possible toy
That is dear to the heart of the every-day
Yet costly enough for a king to enjoy
In his state.



Then, bowing and breathless, they stood
In an anteroom neat as a pin,
While the messenger boys in an orderly
Went in with their gifts at the nursery
Five minutes they waited (it seemed a
Then rose on the silence an uproar unique-

A tempest of weeping and shriek upon
From within.

And out at the door came the unlucky
In a shower that darkened the air;
And out from the palace in dire dismay
The wise men fled by the shortest way,
Nor paused until they had reached the
Where, all in a heap on the sandy floor,
The fisher-maid found them as once
In despair!

She heard their tale with a brow demure,
At first with a glance of wonder,
And then with a frown of grave surprise

That hid the laughter that lurked in her
"Nay, now," she cried, what a heart of
This ruler of eight years old must own!
Yet, hark you, sirs, you may still atone
For your blunder.

"A gift of my choosing (at your expense)
Will settle the matter with ease,

And win you, I '11 warrant, the royal grace,
And the consequent love of the populace.
So cheer you, sirs, it is not too late;
For a moderate sum you may mend your
Five dollars will do it, or four ninety-
If you please !"

They sighed and they doubted, but drew
her a check
Quite double her modest demand;
And a day or two afterward stood once
In the anteroom, at the nursery door,
While the fisher-maid, with a face of joy,
Sent in on his errand one messenger boy
With a single box and a single toy
In his hand.


Then lo! there was laughter and clapping
of hands,
And a rustle of delicate frocks;
And then from the monarch's mysterious
No warning there came of immediate
But a gracious message of compliment,
And the Monarch of Olla's free consent
To chip away to their hearts' content
At the rocks.

The wise men looked at the fisher-maid;
She laughed with her lip a-curl.
"Next time," she cried, "before you begin,
'T were well to consider whose grace you
would win.
Sooth, wisdom and folly are like as two peas !
That box, learned sirs, held a doll, if you
For the Monarch of Olla, the Island of
Is a girl!"

_-;I4. cl

C_.rt& 'weis oy2 olJ O, Co Ren-dl Cec ,EcLuEff
'Th'o eou1l joke taiL yot c-zriva, zHot, e2u i
-1-11iS -G-Jif'e/ &tn e ias Clzilc a o rais'eryztly soeic/cL
:izaht tbh.e7ii- -hec-l j'ot a, tt pufr.


(he/ Ocezial CrireL~ in,


(A Tale of Treasure Trove in the Streets of New York.)


[Begun in the November number.]

HEN Tom fol-
lowed Pauline
into the parlor
he found his
uncle seated
on the sofa
beside their
mother. The
eg first sight of
his uncle gave
Tom the im-
pression of strength and heartiness, which was
confirmed as they came to know each other
well. Uncle Dick was neither tall nor stout,
but his figure was well built and solid; perhaps
he was rather under than over the average
height of man. His eyes were dark, and so
was his hair, save where it was touched with
gray at the temples. His hands, which were
resting on his knees, seemed a little large; and
the distinct sinews of the wrists indicated un-
usual strength of grip. His face was clean
shaven, except for the mustache which curled
heavily down each cheek.
His smile was kindly as his eyes looked Tom
straight in the face, and his greeting was hearty.
So this is Tom, is it ? he said, holding out
his hand and giving Tom a cordial clasp.
"And you are Uncle Dick," Tom responded,
echoing his uncle's pleasant laugh.
"Yes, I am Uncle Dick. I 'm your mother's
only brother, and you are her only son. Let
me get a good look at you."
So saying, he raised his hands and grasped
Tom by the shoulders and held the boy off at
arm's-length, while he took stock of him.
After a long searching gaze, which Tom met

unflinchingly, Uncle Dick said to Mrs. Paul-
ding, "He has your eyes, Mary, and your
hair,-but how like he is to his father!"
Despite his bold front, Tom had endured the
close scrutiny with secret discomfort; but now
he flushed with pleasure. Mrs. Paulding had
often talked to her son about the father he
could scarcely remember, and it was Tom's
chief wish to grow as like his father as he could.
"Yes," repeated Uncle Dick, "he is very like
Stuyvesant." Then he released his hold on
Tom's shoulders. "I do not see, Mary," he
said, turning to Mrs. Paulding, that you have
any reason to be dissatisfied with these young-
sters. They look like healthy young Americans
with clear consciences and good appetites. If
they take to me as I have taken to them, we
shall get along all right."
I 'm sure we shall all be ever so fond of
you, if you '11 only stay here," said Pauline;
"in fact, I 'm fond of you now."
You see, your sister and I," explained Un-
cle Dick to Tom, "have already made friends.
She has shown me round her cat-ranch outside
there, and-"
And what do you think ? interrupted Pau-
line. "'Mousie' approved of Uncle Dick at
once, and went up and let him stroke his neck
-and you know Mousie is very hard to please."
"Then I can look upon Mousie's approval
of me as a certificate of good moral character,"
said Uncle Dick, with a ringing laugh. "And
I don't know but what I 'd rather have a letter
of recommendation from a dumb beast than
from many a man I 've met. As a judge of
human nature, 'the biped without feathers,' as
Plato called him, is sometimes inferior to our
four-footed friends."
"I 'm glad to be told I 'm like my father,"
Tom remarked as he sat down by his mother's


"You are like him, as I 've said," responded
his uncle, "and that 's a reason you and I
should be good friends,-for no man ever had
a better friend than your father was to me.
When we were boys of your age we played to-
gether on these grounds; and we went off on
long walks together up to High Bridge and
across the Harlem River. This is a fine place
for a boy-at least we found it so. There are

"There's one thing to tell," replied Uncle
Dick; "it 's a great deal more fun to play at
Indians here on Manhattan Island than it is to
have the real redskins come whooping after
your scalp."
"They did n't get yours, did they ? asked
They did n't that time but it was a very
tight squeak," Uncle Dick answered.

*. -'

,.-, ----- 7


lots of good spots for sham fights and so forth.
Down in the woods by the river, near the rail-
road track, we used to go on long scouting-
raids after the Indians. But I suppose that is
altogether too old-fashioned a sport for you
boys nowadays."
Tom promptly informed his uncle all about
the Black Band, and about the bonfire on elec-
tion night, when he had to run the gantlet
and had afterward been burnt at the stake.
Mother has told us about your adventure
with the Indians in the Black Hills," Tom said;
"that is, she 's told us all you wrote, but there
must be lots more to tell-is n't there ?"

"You '11 tell us about all your adventures,
won't you ? Pauline besought.
Uncle Dick laughed heartily. "I 've been
about a good deal, here and there, but I don't
know that I 've really had any adventures that
you could call adventures," he said.
"But you ran away to sea ? Polly cried.
Oh, yes," he answered.
"And you were wrecked?" she continued.
"Yes," assented her uncle.
"And you went to the war, and you were
taken prisoner ? she went on.
"And you 've fought the horrid Indians, and


you've been to Africa for diamonds, and you've
done lots and lots of other things like that,-
and if those are not adventures, I 'd just like to
know what are ?" she urged.
"Some of these things were rather exciting
while they lasted," said Uncle Dick calmly,
"but I don't think I should call any of them
What would you call an adventure, then ?"
asked Pauline.
Oh, I don't know," he replied. Perhaps
it is an adventure to have been shut up in the
Rock Temple at Petra, alone with your deadly
enemy, when he had a revolver and you had
nothing but a penknife, and when you believed
that if you got out alive the natives outside
would promptly kill you."
Did that happen to you ? asked Tom with
intense interest.
Well, it was n't exactly that way," responded
his uncle. "You see he had only a single-bar-
reled pistol and I had a bowie-knife, so it was
almost an even thing."
"Did you fight him ? Polly inquired.
"I had to."
"And how did it end?" Polly asked eagerly.
" Did he kill you ? "
Uncle Dick laughed again and responded,
" Do I look like a ghost ?"
Polly blushed and explained hastily, I mean,
did you kill him ? "
No," her uncle said, I did n't kill him and
he did n't kill me. He fired at me and missed
my head by half an inch-I believe he did cut
off a stray lock of hair-you see I have curls
like yours, Tom."
"And what did you do then ?" was Polly's
instant query.
He sprang on me and I defended myself,
and he got a wound-"
"A serious wound? asked Polly.
I never yet saw a wound that was comic,"
Uncle Dick replied, either for the man who
had it, or the man who gave it. Fighting is a
sad business, at best, and I keep out of it when
I can. As good luck would have it, this man's
wound was not dangerous; but it left me free
to make my escape."
"But how did you get past the natives out-
side, who were waiting to kill you ? asked Tom.

"I did n't get past them," was the answer.
"But they did n't kill you! Polly cried.
"They got ready to do it," Uncle Dick ex-
plained, "when an old sheik interfered. He
was a great friend of mine, that old sheik, and
I had done him a favor once; and so he saved
my life and got me away to the coast. Of
course you ought to do people favors when-
ever you can; and the very least reason is that
you never know when their gratitude may come
in handy."
How did you happen to be in the Rock
Temple ? asked Tom, "and with your enemy,
too ? "
How did I happen to get into all my
scrapes? returned Uncle Dick. For a sim-
ple reason. Because I did not follow the ad-
vice of the Turkish proverb which says, 'Before
you go in, find a way out.' All my life I 've
been going into all sorts of things-and gener-
ally I 've had to squeeze out of the little end
of the horn. As the old colonel of my regi-
ment used to say, I 've had lots of luck in my
life-good and bad.' "
"It is good luck which has brought you back
to me, Dick," said Mrs. Paulding. "And the
longer you stay the better I shall like it."
"I don't know how long it will be, Mary,"
he answered; that all depends on what Joshua
Hoffmann says on Monday morning."
"Joshua Hoffmann?" Tom repeated; "is n't
he the gentleman who owns that grand new
house on the Riverside drive, with the broad
piazzas, and the tower, and the ground around
it with a brick wall ? "
"Yes," Mrs. Paulding replied. "Mr. Hoff-
mann has built a new house near us since you
were here last, Dick."
"Everything around this place seems new
since I was here last," Dick returned. "But
even if Joshua Hoffmann has a house near us,
I sha'n't intrude on him up here-at least
not at first. I '11 talk business down-town at
his office."
He 's sure to be glad to see you, Dick,"
said Mrs. Paulding. Children, you know that
your uncle saved Mr. Hoffmann's life? "
"I did n't know it at all," Tom replied.
"Neither did I," Uncle Dick declared.
"Tell us all about it at once, please," Polly



besought. I like to hear about people's lives
being saved."
It's very little to tell," her uncle responded;
"all I did was to give him warning of a plot
against him. It was when he was out in the
China Seas, aboard his private steam-yacht, the
' Rhadamanthus.' He had a crew of Lascars,
and was going down the coast. From a China-
man I had once recommended I received warn-
ing not to go-he 'd offered me a berth on
the yacht-because the Chinese pirates had
bribed half the crew, and they meant to attack
Mr. Hoffmann in a pirate junk which would
come alongside under pretense of being in
need of water. Of course I warned Mr. Hoff-
mann, and I accepted the berth on the yacht,
and we made ready for a good fight. We ran
out of port, dropped alongside an American
man-of-war, sent back the treacherous crew, and
took on board a lot of new men we could
"And did the pirate junk attack you ?" Tom
asked eagerly.
It did," Uncle Dick answered. "And
when they made their sudden assault and found
us ready for them with a couple of Gatling guns
on the main deck, you never saw pirates so
surprised in all your life."
I did n't know that Chinamen were ever
pirates," said Polly; I thought they all either
made tea or took in washing."
How did the fight end? was Tom's im-
patient question.
The junk was sunk, and the crew were sent
back as prisoners; and I suppose that in time
they were tried and sentenced."
At this juncture in the conversation, the Care-
ful Katie entered to announce that supper was
ready. Tom rushed up-stairs to wash and to
brush his hair.
When he came down, he found his mother
and Uncle Dick discussing Mr. Joshua Hoff-
mann, who was at once one of the richest and
one of the best men in New York; a man good
himself and never tired of doing good to others;
a man full of public spirit and leading in nota-
ble public enterprises; a man who considered
his great fortune as a trust for the benefit of
those who had been less fortunate.
"He 's a man riches have not spoiled," re-

marked Uncle Dick; "and that 's saying a
great deal for anybody."
"He 's a man that 's good to the poor," in-
terjected the Careful Katie. "Heaven bless
For a second Uncle Dick looked a little sur-
prised at this intrusion of the waitress into the
conversation. Then he laughed softly to him-
self; and he said to his sister, as the Careful
Katie left the dining-room to get the hot bis-
cuits, "I see that she is quite as talkative as
Mrs. Paulding smiled and answered, She 's
a faithful creature, and I am used to her oc-
casional loquacity."
"I like it," Uncle Dick responded; "I like
anybody out of the common,- anybody or any-
thing that has a character of its own. I have
no use for a man who has had all his edges and
covers smoothed off till he is just as round and
as commonplace as his neighbors."
The Careful Katie returned and placed on the
table a plateful of smoking hot biscuits. As
she did this she dislodged a knife, which fell to
the floor.
"That 's a gentleman 's coming to the
house," she said promptly. "Sure if I 'd done
it yesterday, I 'd 'a' said it meant you comin'
back to us to-day, Mr. Richard."
So if you drop a knife it means a gentleman
is coming to the house, does it ? asked Uncle
Dick with immediate interest. He had studied
the folk-lore and strange beliefs of savage peo-
ples in all parts of the world; and to find a
superstition quite as absurd in the chief city of
the United States, in the last quarter of the
nineteenth century, was a surprise.
"What else should it mane?" answered
And if you drop a fork," Uncle Dick con-
tinued," I suppose that means a lady is coming ? "
An' how could it mane anything else ? she
asked in answer. I do be wondering who it
is that knife '11 bring us here to-night."
And with that she left the room.
Mary," said Uncle Dick as the door closed
behind the Careful Katie, "you were remark-
ing that this house was old-fashioned and had
no modern conveniences no dumb-waiter, for
example. It seems to me that it has something




more useful than a dumb waiter,- 1
it has a talking waitress." W "
Mrs. Paulding laughed. "Katie
will talk a little too much," she said,
"but we don't mind it."
"Mind it! repeated Uncle Dick. "It is de-
lightful. I enjoy it. I have often heard of a
certain person's being a
S.brilliant conversationalist
'-and I never knew ex-
"actly what that meant.
__ But now I know.
-:-ss s Why, the Care-


Sj fearing that in their absence he might
S tell of some new and strange adventure
'- by land or sea. The next day was
Sunday; and before they went to bed
again they had learned more of their uncle's
varied career. But it would have taken many
a "month of Sundays," as the Careful Katie
phrased it, for them to have been told a tithe
of the extraordinary adventures
in which he had taken part.
Just turned two score years
at the time he went back to -- .-
his sister's house in New York,

ful Katie is -. 4 7-'. a brilliant con- Richard Rapallo had not spent
versation- -- alist." more than twelve weeks in any one place since
"She 's z-' .t very good to the he was thirteen. A little before the Rebellion
pussies,"said Polly, _had broken out, _
as if Uncle Dick in February,
were attacking the Careful Katie. 1861, when he t
"I 've no doubt she is good in was exactlythir- -.
every way," responded Uncle Dick. teen years old,
"She 's a good he had run away to sea.
... talker, and that is a good He made a voyage in a whaler
S thing. Conversation is her as cabin-boy; and when they had gathered a fair
'S .hobby -and we must harvest of oil and bone in the Northern Pacific,
/--' 1"- never look a friend's hobby and had come homeward around the Horn, and
S'in the mouth." were at last almost in sight of port, a terrific
In chat like this the evening sped away. storm caught them and blew them far out of

Pauline first and then Tom went to bed re- their course, and finally wrecked them on Sable
luctantly, unwilling to leave their uncle, and Island, that well-filled graveyard of good ships.
VOL. XIX. -22.


When at last Richard Rapallo was taken off
in an American vessel, he again met with mis-
fortune, for the ship was captured by the Con-
federate cruiser Alabama," then just starting
from England on her career of destruction.
The American crew saw their ship burnt before
their eyes. They were sent off in a little fishing-
smack to make -their way home as best they
Richard Rapallo was only fifteen when he
returned to New York and went back to school.
He was barely seventeen when he enlisted in
the army, then about to make its final effort to
crush the Confederate forces and to capture
Richmond. It was in January, 1865, that he
enlisted; and in February his regiment had its
first skirmish. Taken by surprise, two compa-
nies were surrounded and forced to surrender.
Richard had scarcely seen any fighting, he had
hardly heard a shot fired, but he was taken
prisoner like the rest; and a prisoner he
remained until the war was over.
Since the surrender of Lee there was hardly
anything that Richard Rapallo had not done;
and there was hardly anywhere that he had not
been. The restlessness which had led him to
run away as a school-boy had grown with the
years and with the lack of restraint, until it was
quite impossible for him to settle down in any
one spot for long.
Young as he was then, only nineteen, he had
had charge of an important exhibit at the Paris
Exposition of 1867. There he formed friend-
ships which led him to Algiers and thence to
Syria and to Egypt. After long wanderings in
the Dark Continent he came back to New York
again; and he was present at his sister's mar-
riage to his old friend and school-fellow, Stuy-
vesant Paulding.
Then again he started out, to the West this
time, as if he had had his fill of the East. He
had a ranch for a while; and he was in the
legislature of Nevada for a term; and he was
one of the first men to enter the Black Hills.
He became interested in a patent for hy-
draulic mining, and it was to introduce this that
he left America for Australia. Here he traveled
far into the interior; and he was gone so long
with a party of friends that it was feared they
had all been lost in the bush.

From Australia he had gone up to China and
Japan, and then down again to Calcutta and
Bombay, forming one of a party which ascended
some of the loftiest peaks of the. Himalayas.
On his way to Europe he was invited to join
an exploring expedition to the antarctic regions;
and when the explorations were concluded, it
was by one of the ships of this expedition that
he was taken to Cape Colony. In time he wan-
dered north to the diamond-mines, and there he
had remained nearly a year.
In all his voyages and his journeyings, in the
haps and mishaps of his varied career, he had
sharpened his shrewdness, mellowed his humor,
and broadened his sympathies. There could
be no more congenial companion for a healthy
and intelligent and inquiring boy like Tom
Paulding; and, long before Sunday night, uncle
and nephew were on the best of terms.
"I 've been 'Jack of all trades,'" said the
man to the boy; I hope you will be master of
one. Make your choice early and stick to it,
and don't waste your life as I have wasted
Tom wondered whether this could mean that
Uncle Dick was not as rich as he and Polly
supposed that an uncle ought to be--espe-
cially an uncle just back from the diamond-
He was a little reassured on Sunday even-
ing when Uncle Dick brought out a large tar-
nished pebble, and told them that it was a
Tom felt that only a rich man could afford to
keep diamonds looking as shabby as that.
As to whether he wished his uncle to be rich
or not, Tom could not quite determine off-
hand. He himself would prefer to find the
guineas stolen by Jeffrey Kerr, and with them
to pay off the mortgage and make sure his
own future and his sister's. But if he did not
find the guineas,-and he confessed that he
had made no great progress as yet,-then, of
course, it would be very convenient indeed to
have in the house a wealthy and generous
Tom went to bed on Sunday night trying to
make up his mind whether his uncle was rich,
and whether he wanted his uncle to be rich.
Almost the last thing that he heard his uncle


say, as hle went up to bed that night, made him
suspect that perhaps a man might come back
from the diamond-fields of South Africa with-
out being enormously wealthy.
What Uncle Dick had said was this: "I 've
gone abroad on many a cruise, and I 've been
in many a port,-but my ship has never come
home yet." Then Uncle Dick laughed lightly
and added, Perhaps she is now refitting for
the voyage- at my castle in Spain."
Tom knew that a castle in Spain was the sole
residence of the absolutely homeless, and he
thought that this speech meant that his uncle
Dick's having was less than his hope.

On Monday morning, as Tom went off to
school, Uncle Dick started with him, saying,
" I 've two or three things to attend to down-
town before I go to see Joshua Hoffmann, and
I suppose I 'd better start early."
I can show the way to the elevated rail-
road station," Tom suggested, as they went
down the little flight of steps to the street.
I don't want any elevated railroad station,"
replied his uncle. "I'm going to walk. 'Shanks's
mare' is my steed: it does n't take money to
make that mare go-but on the other hand
it 's true that mare does n't go very far."
Pauline was a little late that morning, and

when she came to kiss her mother good-by,
before going to school, she could not resist the
temptation of the opportunity. She said:
"Marmee, can I ask you a question? "
Certainly, Polly dear," was the answer.
"It 's about Uncle Dick," Pauline went on
Well ?"
Well, is he very rich ? she asked at last.
Mrs. Paulding looked down at her little
daughter and said, Why do you ask that? "
Because Tom and I thought that if Uncle
Dick had been picking up diamonds-I won-
der if they do it in Africa with raw meat and
a big bird as they did in 'Sindbad'-if he 'd
been finding diamonds, why, of course he was
very rich, and he 'd pay the mortgage and make
you more comfortable and we 'd all be happier."
"Your Uncle Dick," Mrs. Paulding said,
smoothing her daughter's hair, "is not rich.
He has very little money, and he has gone
now to see Mr. Hoffmann hoping he can get
a situation of some sort here in New York."
Oh! said Pauline, "then he is poor ? "
"Yes," her mother answered. He is not in
need, of course; but he has little or no money."
I must tell Tom as soon as I can," Pauline
remarked gravely; and now he has just got to
find that stolen money at once."

(To be continued.)

- I




., DX/\VH


?, .NOON .


MONG the principal
heroes of the Tee-Wahn
folk-lore, I hear of none
more frequently, in the
winter story-tellings to
which my aboriginal
neighbors admit me,
than the mighty Nah-
chu-rd-chu. To this
S day his name, which
means "The Bluish
Light of Dawn," is deeply revered by the quaint
people who claim him as one of their forefathers.
He had no parents, for he was created by the
Trues themselves, and from them received such
extraordinary powers as were second only to their
own. Hiswonderful featsand startlingadventures
-as still related by the believing Indians-
would fill a volume. One of these fanciful
myths has pleased me particularly, not only for
its important bearing on the history of the race,
but for its interesting story as well. It is a
characteristic legend of the Southwest. /
Long before the first Spaniards came to New
Mexico (and that was three hundred and fifty

years ago) Isleta stood where it stands to-day
-on a lava ridge that defies the gnawing cur-
rent of the Rio Grande. In those far days,
Nah-chu-rf-chu dwelt in Isleta, and was a
leader of his people. A weaver by trade,* his
rude loom hung from the dark rafters of his
room; and in it he wove the strong black man-
tas or robes like those which are the dress of
Pueblo women to this day.
Besides being very wise in medicine, Nah-
chu-rd-chu was young, and tall, and strong, and
handsome; and all the girls of the village
thought it a shame that he did not care to take
a wife. For him the shyest dimples played, for
him the whitest teeth flashed out, as the owners
passed him in the plaza; but he had no eyes
for them. Then, in the custom of the Tee-
wahn, bashful fingers worked wondrous fringed
shirts of buckskin, or gay awl-sheaths, which
found their way to his house by unknown
But Nah-chu-rd-chu paid no more attention
to the gifts than to the smiles, and just kept weav-
ing and weaving-such mantas as were never
seen in the land of the Tee-wahn before or since.

* An ancient custom. Manta-weaving by men remains now only among the distant Moquis.

Two of his admirers were sisters who were ransack the corn-bins for the biggest, evenest,
called, in Tee-wahn language, Ee-eh-chdo-ri- and most perfect ears. Shelling the choicest,
ch'Ahm-nin-the Yellow-Corn-Maidens. They each took her few handfuls of kernels to the
were both young and pretty, but they "had the sloping metate,* and with the mano, or hand-stone,
evil road," or were witches, possessed of a magic scrubbed the blue grist up and down and up
power which they always used for ill. When all and down till the hard corn was a soft blue
the other girls gave up, discouraged at Nah-chu- meal. All the next day, and the next, and the
rfi-chu's indifference, the Yellow-Corn-Maidens next, they ground it over and over again, until
kept coming day after day, trying to win his it grew finer than ever flour was before; and
notice. At last the matter became so annoying every girl felt sure that her meal would stick to
to Nah-chu-rd-chu that he hired the deep- theonmateofthehand-
voiced town-crier to go through all the streets some young weaver.
and announce that in four days Nah-chu-rf- The Yellow-Corn-
chu would choose a wife. Maidens worked
For dippers, to take water from the big hardest of all; day
earthen jars, the Tee-wahn used then, as they and night for four
use to-day, queer little omates made of a days they ground /
gourd; but Nah-chu-rd-chu, being a great and ground, with all ,
medicine-man and very rich, had a dipper of the magic spells they
pure pearl, shaped like the gourds, but wonder- knew.
fully precious. Now, in those far-
On the fourth day," proclaimed the crier, off days the Moon
" Nah-chu-rt-chu will hang his pearl ornate at had not gone up into
his door, where every girl who will may throw the sky to live, but
a handful of corn-meal at it. And she whose was a maiden of
meal is so well ground that it sticks to the ornate, Shee ah -whib -bak
she shall be the wife of Nah-chu-rd-chu! (Isleta). And a very
When this strange news came rolling down beautifulgirlshe was,
the still evening air, there was a great scamper- but blind of one eye.
ing of little moccasined feet. The girls ran out Shehadlongadmired
chu, but was
always too
maidenly to
try to attract THE MOON-MAIDEN.
his attention as other girls had done;
and at the time when the crier made his
4. proclamation, she happened to be away
at her father's ranch. It was only upon
3 -, -the fourth day that she returned to town,
S and in a few moments the girls were to
go with their meal to test it upon the
c magic dipper. The two Yellow-Corn-
Maidens were just coming from their
house as she passed, and told her of what
"METATE." was to be done. They were very con-
from hundreds of gray adobe houses to catch fident of success, and told the Moon-girl, hoping
every word; and when the crier had passed on, to pain her. They laughed derisively as she went
they ran back into the store-rooms and began to running to her home.
The slab of lava which still serves as a hand-mill in Pueblo houses.


By this time a long file of girls was coming to
Nah-chu-rd-chu's house, outside whose door
hung the pearl ornate. Each girl carried in her
hand a little jar of meal; and as they passed
the door one by one, each took from the jar a
handful and threw it against the magic dipper.
But each time the meal dropped to the ground,
and left the pure pearl undimmed and radiant
as ever.
At last came the Yellow-Corn-Maidens, who

ing our meal four days and still it will not
stick, and you we did not tell till to-day. How
then can you ever hope to win Nah-chu-rd-
chu? Pooh, you silly little thing! "
But the Moon paid no attention whatever to
their taunts. Drawing back her little dimpled
hand, she threw the meal gently against the
pearl orate, and so fine was it ground that
every tiniest bit of it clung to the polished shell,
and not a particle fell to the ground!


had waited to watch the failure of the others.
As they came where they could see Nah-chu-rd-
chu sitting at his loom, they called: "Ah, here
we have the meal that will stick!" and each
threw a handful at the orate. But it did not
stick at all; and still from his seat Nah-chu-ri-
chu could see, in the shell's mirror-like surface,
all that .went on outside.
The Yellow-Corn-Maidens were very angry,
and instead of passing on as the others had
done, they stood there and kept throwing and
throwing at the ornate, which smiled back at
them with undiminished luster.
Just then, last of all, came the Moon, with a
single handful of meal which she had hastily
ground. The two sisters were in a fine rage by
this time, and mocked her, saying:
Hoh! Pdh-hlee-oh,* you poor thing, we are
very sorry for you! Here we have been grind-

When Nah-chu-r6-chu saw that, he rose up
quickly from his loom and came and took the
Moon by the hand, saying, "You are she who
shall be my wife. You shall never want for
anything, since I have very much." And he
gave her many beautiful mantas, and cotton
wraps, and fat boots of buckskin that wrap
round and round, that she might dress as the
wife of a rich chief. But the Yellow-Corn-
Maidens, who had seen it all, went away vow-
ing vengeance on the Moon.
Nah-chu-ri-chu and his sweet Moon-wife
were very happy together. There was no other
such housekeeper in all the pueblo as she, and
no other hunter brought home so much buffalo-
meat from the vast plains to the east, nor
so many antelopes, and black-tailed deer, and
jack-rabbits from the Manzanos, as did Nah-chu-
ru-chu. But constantly he was saying to her:

* Tee-wahn name of the moon.



Moon-wife, beware of the Yellow-Corn-
Maidens, for they have the evil road and will
try to do you harm; but you must always refuse
to do whatever they propose."
And always the young wife promised.
One day the Yellow-Corn-Maidens came to
the house and said:
Friend Nah-chu-rd-chu, we are going to
the llano* to gather amole t. Will you not let
your wife go with us ? "
Oh, yes, she may go," said Nah-chu-ri-chu;
but. taking her aside, he said, Now be sure
that while with them you refuse whatever they
may propose."
The Moon promised, and started away with
the Yellow-Corn-Maidens.
In those days there was only a thick forest of
cottonwoods where are now the smiling vine-
yards, and gardens, and orchards of Isleta, and
to reach the llano the three women had to go
through this forest. In the very center of it
they came to a deep pozo-a square well, with
steps at one side leading down to the water's
"Ay! said the Yellow-Corn-Maidens, "how
hot and thirsty is our walk! Come, let us get
a drink of water."
But the Moon, remembering her husband's
words, said politely that she did not wish to
drink. They urged in vain, but at last, look-
ing down into the pozo, called:
Oh, Moon-friend, Moon-friend Come and
look in this still water, and see how pretty you
are! "
The Moon, you must know, has always been
just as fond of looking at herself in the water
as she is to this very day; and forgetting Nah-
chu-rd-chu's warning, she came to the brink,
and looked down upon her fair reflection. But
at that very moment the two witch-sisters
pushed her head foremost into the pozo, and
drowned her; and then they filled the well
with earth, and went away as happy as wicked
hearts can be.
Nah-chu-rd-chu began to look oftener from
his loom to the door, as the sun crept along
the adobe floor, closer and closer to his seat;
and when the shadows were very long, he
sprang suddenly to his feet, and walked to the

house of the Yellow-Corn-Maidens with long,
strong strides.
Yellow-Corn-Maidens," he asked of them,
very sternly, "where is my little wife?"
"Why, is n't she at home ?" asked the
wicked sisters, as if in great surprise. She got
enough amole long before we did."
"Ah," groaned Nah-chu-rd-chu within him-
self; "it is as I thought-they have done her
But without a word to them he turned on
his heel and went away.
From that hour all went ill with Isleta; for
Nah-chu-rd-chu held the well-being of all his
people, even unto life and death. Paying no
attention to what was going on about him, he
sat motionless upon the topmost crosspiece of
the estufa (sacred council-chamber) ladder-the
highest point in all the town-with his head
bowed upon his hands. There he sat for days,
never speaking, never moving. The children
who played along the streets looked up with
awe to the motionless figure, and ceased their
boisterous play. The old men shook their
heads gravely, and muttered: We are in evil
times, for Nah-chu-rd-chu is mourning, and
will not be comforted; and there is no more
rain, so that our crops are dying in the fields.
What shall we do? "
At last all the councilors met together, and
decided that there must be another effort made
to find the lost wife. It was true that the
great Nah-chu-ri-chu had searched for her in
vain, and the people had helped him; but per-
haps some one else might be more fortunate.
So they took some of the sacred smoking-weed
wrapped in a corn-husk and went to the eagle,
who has the sharpest eyes in all the world.
Giving him the sacred gift, they said:
"Eagle-friend, we see Nah-chu-rd-chu in
great trouble, for he has lost his Moon-wife.
Come, search for her, we pray you, to discover
if she be alive or dead."
So the eagle took the offering, and smoked
the smoke-prayer; and then he went winging
upward into the very sky. Higher and higher
he rose, in great upward circles, while his keen
eyes noted every stick, and stone, and animal
on the face of all the world. But with all his

SPlain. t The soapy root of the palmilla, used for washing.


eyes, he could see
nothing of the lost
wife; and at last he
came back sadly, and
"People-friends, I
went up to where I
could see the whole
world, but I could
not find her."
Then the people
went with an offering
to the coyote, whose
nose is sharpest in all
the world; and be-
sought him to try to
find the Moon. The
coyote smoked the
smoke-prayer, and
started off with his
nose to the ground,
trying to find her
tracks. He trotted all
over the earth; but
at last he too came
back without finding
what he sought.
Then the troubled
people got the badger
to search, for he is
best of all the beasts



' 4 ..


at digging--and he it was whom the Trues em-
ployed to dig the caves in which the people
first dwelt when they came to this world. The
badger trotted and pawed, and dug everywhere,
but he could not find the Moon; and he came
home very sad.
Then they asked the osprey, who can see fur-
thest under water, and he sailed high above all
the lakes and rivers in the world, till he could
count the pebbles and the fish in them, but he
too failed to discover the lost Moon.
By this time the crops were dead and sere in
the fields, and thirsty animals walked crying
along the dry river. Scarcely could the people
themselves dig deep enough to find so much
water as would keep them alive. They were
at a loss what to do; but at last they thought:
We will go now to the P'ah-ku-ee-teh-Ay-deh,*

who can find the
dead -for surely she
is dead, or the others
would have found her.
So they went to him
and besought him.
The turkey-buzzard
wept when he saw
Nah-chu-ri-chu still
sitting there upon the
ladder, and said:
"Truly it is sad for
our great friend; but
for me, I am afraid
to go, since they who
are more mighty than
I have already failed.
Yet I will try." And
spreading his broad
wings, he went climb-
ing up the spiral ladder
of the sky. Higher he
wheeled, and higher,
till at last not even
the eagle could see
him. Up and up, till
the hot sun began to
singe his head, and
not even the eagle
had ever been so high.
He cried with pain,

but still he kept mounting-until he was so
close to the sun that all the feathers were burned
from his head and neck. But he could see
nothing; and at last, frantic with the burn-
ing, he came wheeling downward. When he
got back to the estufa where all the people were
waiting, they saw that his head and neck had
been burnt bare of feathers-and from that day
to this the feathers would never grow out again.
"And did you see nothing? they all asked,
when they had bathed his burs.
Nothing," he answered, except that when
I was half-way down I saw in the middle of
yon cottonwood forest a little mound covered
with all the beautiful flowers in the world."
Oh!" cried Nah-chu-ri-chu, speaking for
the first time. Go, friend, and bring me one
flower from the very middle of that mound."

STurkey-buzzard; literally, "water-goose-grandfather."


Off flew the buzzard, and in a few minutes
returned with a little white flower. Nah-chu-
rd-chu took it, and, descending from the ladder
in silence, walked solemnly to his house, while
all the wondering people followed.
When Nah-chu-ri-chu came inside his home
once more, he took a new mania and spread it
in the middle of the room; and laying the wee
white flower tenderly in its center, he put an-
other new manta above it. Then, dressing
himself in the splendid buckskin suit the lost
wife had made him, and taking in his right
hand the sacred guaje (rattle), he seated him-
self at the head of the mantas and sang:
"Szi-nak, shzi-nah Ai-ay-ay, ai-ay-ay, ai-ay-
ay." (Seeking her, seeking her! There-away,
When he had finished the song, all could see
that the flower had begun to grow, so that it
lifted the upper manta a little. Again he sang,
shaking his gourd; and still the flower kept
growing. Again and again he sang; and when
he had finished for the fourth time, it was plain
to all that a human form lay between the two
mantas. And when he sang his song the fifth
time, the form sat up and moved. Tenderly
he lifted away the upper cloth; and there sat his
sweet Moon-wife, fairer than ever, and alive as
For four days the people danced and sang in
the public square. Nah-chu-rd-chu was happy
again; and now the rain began to fall. The
choked earth drank and was glad and green,
and the dead crops came to life.
When his wife told him how the witch-sisters
had done, he was very angry; and that very
day he made a beautiful hoop to play the hoop-
game. He painted it, and put many strings
across it, and decorated it with beaded buckskin.

Now," said he, the wicked Yellow-Corn-
Maidens will come to congratulate you, and
will pretend not to know where you were.
You must not speak of that, but invite them to
go out and play a game with you."
In a day or two the witch-sisters did come,
with deceitful words; and the Moon invited
them to go out and play a game. They went
up to the edge of the llano, and there she let
them get a glimpse of the pretty hoop.
"Oh, give us that, Moon-friend," they teased.
But she refused. At last, however, she said:
Well, we will play the hoop-game. I will
stand here, and you there; and if, when I roll
it to you, you catch it before it falls upon its
side, you may have it."
So the witch-sisters stood a little way down
the hill, and she rolled the bright hoop. As it
came trundling to them, both grasped it at the
same instant; and lo! instead of the Yellow-
Corn-Maidens, there were two great snakes,
with tears rolling down ugly faces. The
Moon came and put upon their heads a little
of the pollen of the corn-blossom (still used
by Pueblo snake-charmers) to tame them, and
a pinch of the sacred meal for their food.
Now," said she, "you have the reward of
treacherous friends. Here shall be your home
among these rocks and cliffs forever, but you
must never be found upon the prairie; and you
must never bite a person. Remember you are
women, and must be gentle."
And then the Moon went home to her hus-
band, and they were very happy together. As
for the sister snakes, they still dwell where she
bade them, and never venture away; though
sometimes the people bring them to their houses
to catch the mice, for these snakes never hurt a

m r ?~uci"

THE sun was setting over the island of St.
Helena on a fine spring evening in 1673, and
in its red glow the vast black cliffs stood out
like the walls of a fortress above the great
waste of lonely sea that lay around them as far
as the eye could reach. Very quiet and very
lonesome did it appear, that tiny islet, far away
in the heart of the boundless ocean; for the
world had scarcely heard of it in those days,
and 142 years were still to pass before Napo-
leon should come there to die, and thereby
make St. Helena famous forever.
But there was one part of the island that was
busy and noisy enough, and that was the spot
where the low white houses and single church-
spire of Jamestown, half buried in clustering
leaves, nestled in a deep gully close to the wa-
ter's edge, walled in by two mighty precipices
nearly a thousand feet in height. All along the
line of forts and batteries, perched like birds'
nests among the frowning crags that overhung
the sea, there was an unwonted stir and bustle.
Cannon were rumbling to and fro, rusty pikes
and muskets were being dragged forth and laid
in readiness, soldiers in buff jackets and big
looped-up hats were clustering along the ram-
parts, while hoarse words of command, clank-
ing swords, the ceaseless tramp of feet, and the
clatter of gun-stocks and pike-staves made every


. LE -- 1r

',V.', _. .. -_F

cr~iiiiy^o uth AiL oiualiidig clit cuho &gaifl.
What could it all mean ?
It meant that the stout-hearted Dutchmen
who had taken the island from England a few
months before were about to have their cour-
age again put to the'proof. Those five ships
of war in the offing, coming down before the
wind under a full press of sail, had just hoisted
the red cross of St. George (not yet changed
into the Union Jack), and Englishman and
Dutchman alike were eager to try

Whether John or Jan
Be the better man,"

as one of their favorite songs worded it.
Neither side, certainly, lost any time in be-
ginning. The sturdy Hollanders did not wait
even for a summons to surrender. The fore-
most English ship had barely dropped her an-
chor in front of the Zwart Steen Battery, when
there was a red flash from the old gray wall, a
loud bang, and then a cannon-ball came tear-
ing through the foretopsail, and splashed into
the water far beyond. Bang went the English-
man's whole broadside in return, and the balls
were heard rattling among the rocks, or crash-
ing into the front of the breastwork; and now
the fight began in earnest.
Fire, smoke, flying shot, crashing timbers,
deafening uproar, multiplied a thousandfold by
the echoes of the surrounding hills-it was a
hard fight, for there were Dutchmen behind



those batteries who had swept the Channel
with Van Tromp, and there were Englishmen
aboard those ships who had fought him and
his men, yard-arm to yard-arm, under Rob-
ert Blake; and it would have been hard to tell
which were the braver or the more stubborn of
the two.
Fire away, boys, for the honor of Old Eng-
land!" shouted Captain Richard Munden, pa-
cing up and down the quarter-
deck of the British flag-ship
amid a hail of shot.
Stand to it, my sons, as if
Father Van Tromp were with
you still!" cried the brave old
Dutch commandant, Pieter Van '
Gebhardt, as he leveled a gun
with his own hands over the
fast-crumbling parapet. "Fear
not for the fire and smoke; it is
but the Englishman lighting his
Both sides fought stoutly, and \\
men began to fall fast; but it
seemed as if on the whole the
Dutch were getting the best of
it. The ships, lying out upon
the smooth water, made an ex-
cellent mark, while the rock-cut
batteries could hardly be distin-
guished from the cliff itself.
But just at that moment a
very unexpected turn of fortune
changed the whole face of the
battle. To explain how this
happened, we must go back a
little way.

The Dutch garrison had given
their whole attention to the at-
tack in front, feeling sure that
this was the only point from which they could be
assailed. And they reasoned well; for every
where else the coast was merely one great preci
pice of several hundred feet, rising so sheer ou
of the sea that it seemed as if nothing without
wings could possibly scale it.
But they might perhaps have been less confi
dent had they seen what was going on just their
at the opposite side of the island.

When the English ships first advanced to the
attack, the hindmost of them, while still hidden
from the Dutch by the huge black pyramid of
Sugar-loaf Point, had lowered several large
boats filled with armed men, which instantly
shot away round the great rocky bluff of the
Barn" as fast as eight oars apiece could carry
Away. they went past headland after headland,

j \ -

- while every eye was fixed upon the rocky shore,
- as if seeking something which was not easily
- to be found.
t At length, just when they rounded the bold,
t craggy promontory of King and Queen point, a
dull boom reached their ears, followed instantly
- by the thunder of a sustained cannonade. At
n that familiar sound the sailors clenched their
teeth savagely, as they looked up at the tremen-


dous precipices that seemed to shut them out
from all hope of taking part in the battle.
Can't we get up anywhere ? growled the
captain of the frigate, who was in the foremost
boat. "We 're disgraced forever if they do the
job without us."
With your honor's leave," broke in a stal-
wart young topman, touching his thick brown
forelock, I think I could get up that rock
yonder, and fasten a rope for the rest to climb
by." *
"What! up there?" cried the captain, glan-
cing doubtfully from the young sailor's bright,
fearless face to the tremendous height above.
" Well, my lad, if you can do it, I '11 give you
fifty guineas!"
"It's for the honor of the flag, not for the
money, sir! answered the seaman, springing
from the boat to the lowest ledge of the terrible
Up, up, up, ever higher he clambered, with the
rising wind flinging his loose hair to and fro,
and the startled sea-birds whirling around him
with hoarse screams of mingled fear and rage.
To the watching eyes far below, the tiny points
of rock to which he clung were quite invisible,
and he seemed to be hanging in mid-air, like a
fly on the side of a wall.
And now he was two thirds of the way up the
precipice; and now he was within a few yards
of the top; and now his hand almost touched
the highest ledge, when suddenly his feet were
seen to slide from under him, and in a moment
he was swinging in the empty air, grasping a
projecting crag with the strength of desperation.
"Hold fast, Tom! yelled his comrades, as
they saw him.
Tom did hold fast, and the strong hands that
had defied the full fury of an Atlantic gale to
loosen them from the slippery rigging did him

good service once more. He regained his foot-
ing, and the indrawn breath of the anxious
gazers below sounded like a hiss in the grim
silence as they watched the final effort that
brought him safely to the top.
The rope was soon fixed, and the last man
had scarcely mounted when the daring band
were hurrying across the ridgy interior of the
island toward the spot whence the cannonade
still boomed upon the evening air. And there it
was at last, as they crowned the farthest ridge,
the tall masts standing up through billowy
smoke, and the batteries marked out amid the
gathering darkness by the flashes of their own
cannon. A deadly volley of English musketry
cracked along the cliff, and several of the Dutch
were seen to fall, while dismay and confusion
spread fast among the survivors. Thus caught
between two fires, with the British ships thun-
dering upon them from below, and the British
marksmen shooting them down from above, the
defenders had no chance; and at length brave
old Van Gebhardt, with a look of bitter grief on
his iron face, slowly hauled down the Dutch flag
in token of surrender.
Mynheer," said he to the English captain,
as the latter came marching into the fort at the
head of his men, "my followers have done all
that men could do; but yours have done more."
And if we had not done more, we could never
have beaten the gallant Dutchmen," answered
the captain, taking off his battered cocked hat
with a polite bow.
Thus it was that the English regained St.
Helena, over which the British flag flies to this
day. Nor has the brave fellow who led that
daring attack been forgotten; for when I visited
the island, I found that the crag which he scaled
(and a very grim-looking crag it is) still goes by
the name of Holdfast Tom."

* The capture of Gibraltar by Sir George Rooke, in 1703, was aided by a feat of the same kind.




EVERY one has heard of the boomerang, and
not a few have seen one; but of really reliable
information as to this weapon and its maker,
the Australian savage, there is very little.
Three years ago I lived close to an aboriginal
camp in New South Wales. This camp was
only about two hundred yards from our settle-
ment, and it was my daily custom to walk over
to the moorong, as they called it, and study the
habits of the blackfellows, as the original na-
tives of Australia are called.
I was naturally more interested in the boom-
erang than in any other of their weapons, and
with a little practice soon learned to throw it.
In the language of this tribe, the Wong-ei-bong,
which is situated in the Bogan River region,
the boomerang is called a womera.
I shall therefore call it a womera. The wo-
mera is made from what is technically known
as an "elbow" from the kurrawung tree, and
sometimes from the yarran and myall trees.
All of these trees belong to the acacia tribe,
and have sweet-scented woods.
The kurrawung is a remarkably hard wood,
tough as oak one way of the grain, but almost
as "splitty" as deal the other. I think the
blackfellows could get a much more reliable
weapon from a native oak, but probably this
wood was too hard for the old-time blacks to
work on with their primitive tools, and the pres-
ent generation have not troubled, or are not
bright enough, to try fresh woods. The black-
fellow, having found a suitable elbow, chops
it out of the tree, and, as it is generally too
heavy to carry home, trims it on the spot into
the rough outline of the forthcoming weapon.
This work is done with the little American steel
tomahawk or ax, which, in comparison with
their ancient stone ax, is such an inestimable
boon that the black will part with anything
rather than this. To buy it from the white
storekeeper he has to make an opossum rug-a

long job; or perhaps a whole stand of arms-
a still longer one.
After about two hours' labor the womera will
be reduced to three or four pounds weight, but
it is still a long way from being a finished weapon.
As it now appears it is a flat, heavy club, longer
and thinner at one arm than at the other. The
black is a decidedly lazy specimen of the human
species, and he will as often as not lay aside his
uncompleted weapon for a week or perhaps a
longer period. When he resumes work the wood
will have become hard and dry, and conse-
quently difficult to work upon, but it never once
occurs to him that he is now paying for his
former indolence. Time, however, is of little
or no consequence to the black.
After some further paring down the weapon is
charred all over, and this part of the work is
quite skilfully done, no one part being more
burned than another. The charcoal is chipped
off, and the blackfellow then licks the weapon
all over with his tongue, and places it in a
smoky fire of green boughs, which warms it and
makes it quite pliable.
He now begins experimental throws; and
if the weapon does not return to him as it
should do, he will bend it slightly outward
on the long end. This slight curve is most
ingeniously given with the hands and feet while
the wood is yet pliant.
Standing almost upright, and keeping the
womera in a line with his eye, he will hold the
weapon in his right hand and between the first
two toes of the right foot. The toes of the left
foot are then used to draw over the wood to the
right curve, which sometimes may not be at-
tained until after several bendings.
When the womera will travel well through
the air, and return as nearly as the blackfellow
requires, he lays it aside until it becomes co4
and hard once more.
Practically it is a finished weapon, but the


workman loves to adorn the womera, and to
do this he has a particular tool which is simply
one blade of an old pair of sheep-shears, given
him by some shearer or squatter. He rubs the
point of this blade on a stone
until it has a round but very
sharp edge. With this rounded
edge he clips little shavings, all
in one direction, from the flat ,
surface of the womera. This
process occupies him a full day. I
He will then perhaps scratch a
few crossed lines at one end as
a final ornamentation, and the '
womera is complete.
We have now a weapon about '. .
a yard long, four inches wide,
one eighth of an inch thick, --.
and weighing from a pound to
a pound and a half. It has a
brownish or umber appearance
from the charring and smoking .
it has received, though all the
charred part of the wood is re-

a; /


moved. The fine chippings made with the old
shear-blade give it a wonderfully pretty finish,
and it is an ornament to any room, which, if it
be made of yarran, it for a time fills with a sweet
The peculiarities of the womera's flight lie

really more in the shape of the weapon than in
the skill with which it is thrown- a white man
soon learning to throw it fairly well.
The common and the easiest way of throwing


'%Ir .L

.. .* '

1. '
I -tAA


it is to take a short run and hurl it from the
shoulder with the point downward, giving the
weapon a slight horizontal twist as it leaves
the hand. It will travel about thirty or forty
yards on a plane with the thrower's head, and
then suddenly shoot upward with increased
speed at an angle of fifty degrees, and, after
reaching a height of sixty or seventy feet, will
rapidly return, whirling swiftly around. If
the soil be soft, one of its ends will be buried
several inches in the earth. When well thrown,
it returns nearly to the spot from which it was
The natives have a way of throwing it, how-





ever, which gives the weapon a lower flight, and
then it goes further and faster.
They hurl it directly toward the ground, on
which, at a distance of about fifteen yards, it
sharply impinges, and it will then gradually rise
and travel a great way.
Having seen a little black boy with his
tiny womera, which was made for him by an
affectionate father, bring a small parrot down
from the bough of a tree at a first attempt, I
thought I would like to see the best effort of a
full-grown black. So I got one of the blacks,
with whom I was quite friendly, to give me a
specimen of his skill in throwing his wonder-
ful weapon.
We were standing on the veranda of the house
at which I lived, and in front of us was a large
Where shall I throw it ? said he, drawing a
light womera from his belt. I selected a tree,
which was over two hundred yards away,
scarcely expecting to see his womera travel
much more than half the distance. Taking a
short run, he threw it with all his force, and
the womera, after lightly touching the ground,
sped with marvelous velocity in a somewhat
circular route toward the tree. It passed
through the light and feathery foliage at the
summit of the tree, and continuing in the same
sharp curve, it turned for home. I rapidly
counted twenty-five while I watched its return,
and it actually seemed to burst in on us as it

struck the ground at my very feet, scattering
dust and stones from the track all over us.
It often occurs that a womera will split in half
should it hit a stone or other hard substance
when it reaches the earth.
There is a womera made which will not re-
turn. The long end is finished off with a sort
of ax. This kind, however, is used only in war,
which is now rare, and occurs in the very far
" back-blocks," as the Australian settlers call
the interior of the country.
The womera is made in every size, from the
toy weapon of the child to one which is over
a yard long and will kill any large game. The
women are never allowed to use the womera,
but every little boy is made proud and happy
by the gift of a small one from his father, and
it is his delight to use it too, whizzing it all over
the camp until his mother, or some other ag-
grieved person, is perhaps obliged to take it
away from him.
The blackfellow is quite ready to sell any of
his weapons but his sacred tomahawk and the
choicest of his womeras, as only a few of the
latter will return quite to the point from which
they are thrown. Hence a really good womera,
capable of doing all that is required of it, is
very rare, even in the Australian museums.
The Australian black's wonderful come-back
weapons are actually able to kill a man hiding
behind a tree or round a corner, after the man-
ner of the fabled Irishman's gun.



I 'VE thought of such a jolly plan! The calendar, you know,
Seems quite unfinished, for most months keep spilling over so.
Now should they all have just four weeks, the pages would look neat,
And surplus days together form another month complete,
An extra month with one odd day-oh, would n't it be prime
If this were done, and added on to our vacation-time!

A Year with Dolly

3By utdora Sj. IBumstead,

I keep my Dolly so v)arm andc nice
This cloudy, stormy 'heather.
My Dolly and I are quiet as mice
Whenever We play together .
And yet we have the pleasantest play-
Would you like to ask "What i is i?"
Why,over and over, every day,
My Dolly and I 'So visit":
Sometimes on"Towser"'e like to call,
Or travel to see the ifttfy;
Tis (randpa's farm just out in the hall,
, And the parlor is Boston City;
Tis mama's house in the corner there,
And then ,When the lamps are lighted,
Mly papa's at home in his easy chair,
And Dolly and I are invited.



IT was on a pleasant June morning that I
rode out of the inn gates in Santa Carnova,
a little, dirty Mexican town away down in
southwestern Texas. You need n't look on your
maps for it,- I never could find it on one yet,
and you cannot. But of all the ill-conditioned
towns I ever saw, this ranks among the worst.
Well, as I said, I rode out of the gateway of
the inn on a June morning. Not at all such
an inn as you would imagine, but a plain,
untidy, square, flat-roofed structure built of
adobes-a kind of sun-dried bricks. There
was an archway leading to an ill-paved court,
and as I rode out I gave Rangoon the rein.
A proud head, two alert ears, a silky-bright
bay coat, four swift, restless feet, a frame of
iron and muscles of steel -such was Rangoon.
No one ever ruled him but I, and he scorned
all laws but the law of love. If you own
horses, boys, make them love you, and you
have stanch friends-truer, sometimes, than
human ones-who will not fail you in time
of need. Rangoon loved me; he obeyed my
voice or signal; I could guide him by word, if
necessary. He saved my life many times, and
at last gave his own for mine. But of that
I will not tell now.
I rode at full gallop down the dirty, narrow
street. I was glad to see the last of the dingy
houses, to leave the road, and to strike off on
the trail that led northeast across the prairie.
VOL. XIX. 23. 35

F '-. 'I. / '/



Many Eastern boys know nothing of the prai-
ries, the wide, grand, far-reaching, undulating
lands that lie all through the southwest and
west. Ah, that morning the world seemed as
fresh and sweet as on the morning of the crea-
tion! The prairie was a mass of flowers; the
air indescribably pure and exhilarating. The
sun rose to meet me, slanting goldenly over
the tops of the long swells. Rangoon had
buckled down to his day's work, going forward
with the long, easy, loping gallop natural to
him. I rode all the morning. The sun crept
up and up the sky, and at noon I camped
down in the timber by a swift, narrow creek, for
dinner. I was in a hurry that day. I wanted
to be in Mendios by noon on the morrow; I
had many a weary mile to get over, and ex-
pected the prairie to be my bedroom for the
night. I liked company too well, generally,
to travel alone, but I was taking a cross-cut to
meet the Doctor, whom I expected to find at
the inn in Mendios.
Well, when the sun began to decline in the
west, I was still in the saddle and galloping on
to the northeast as I had been all day. I was
tired; so was Rangoon. He slackened sud-
denly to a slow trot, threw up his head, and
sniffed the air. Just then something singular
happened. A child's cry, faint but clear,
came to my ears. I declare to you, a cold
chill crept over me. Just consider, I was at


least fifty miles from any human habitation,
and I did not know what to make of it. Ran-
goon stopped short.
That cry again! A long-drawn, pitiful cry; it
made my hair stand on end. I don't know
whether I thought it was a ghost, or what; but
nothing ever moved me before or since as I was
moved at that moment. It was sunset, too, and
the dusk of evening was beginning to envelop
all things. The wide, far-reaching prairie lay
on all sides, no human being was near; no emi-
grant-wagon would pass this way, it seemed to
me. The tall grass and flowers waved silently
in the fresh wind. I tried to start Rangoon
along. I said to myself, It is a coyote, or a
prairie-dog "; but common sense told me better.
Suddenly Rangoon turned short round and
dashed off to the left. He took the bit in
his teeth, put down his head, and bolted. What
under the sun possessed him, I could not tell.
For about three minutes he galloped like mad
through the tall grass, and then brought up
with a jerk.
What did I see ? A little fellow about three
years old, standing in the tall grass which was
as high as his head. He had beaten it down
all round him. A wee little man alone on the
lonely, darkening prairie, with none but God
and the angels to watch over and defend him.
He looked up into my face with a pair of
the brightest eyes I ever saw, and said, "Well,
I 's dot most tired out! I thought nobody
would n't never tum. You 's been a most awful
long time, Mr. Man!"
I never said a word. I could n't; some-
thing choked me. I reached down, pulled the
little fellow up, and set him in front of me.
Then I reined Rangoon back to the trail I had
I dess I 'm some t'irsty, Mr. Man," said the
wee mite; and, still without a word, I gave him
my canteen.
"I dess I 'm some hungry, too," he added;
and then, looking up in my face, he observed,
" Has you lost your tongue, Mr. Man?"
No," said I; but I could hardly smile. Do
any of you realize, as I realized then, the prob-
able fate of this innocent child left alone on
the wide prairie at nightfall ?
How did you come here, child ? said I.

I 's little Mr. Quimbo," he explained with
dignity. "I did tum in a big wagon wiz a
white top, an' I looked a walk, an' I went all
aseepy, and zis morning' de wagon was all
"Who was in the wagon ?"
My papa 'n' mama, course," he answered
with complacency; an' Sam; he 's a black
man. An' my Kitty, an' 'Bo Peep.' He 's a
lamb, Bo Peep is."
"What 's your papa's name ?"
"Papa 'honey'- zat what mama says."
"Nothing else ?" asked I.
"Nuffin' 't all. S'pose I don't know ?" said
the midget.
"Where were you going in the big wagon ? "
Here little Mr. Quimbo was at fault. He
said his papa was going to a big river; but he
knew no more of the matter.
Plainly, there was nothing for it but to con-
vey little Mr. Quimbo to Mendios, where I
might possibly obtain information of the wagon.
I camped down soon, for it was too late to
search further for timber, picketed Rangoon
near by, and rolled the child and myself in
the blanket.
I did n't sleep much; but the little fellow
hardly stirred all night. Toward morning
Rangoon slipped his halter, and came and lay
down close to me, treading circumspectly, for
fear of hurting me. After he laid himself
down, he stretched his long neck over and
sniffed at the child with an air of astonishment.
"It 's all right, old fellow," said I sleep-
ily. "We '11 take care of him, won't we,
Rangoon? "
I dozed and waked till the western sky
turned darker blue, the east a lighter gray.
The stars paled and went out. The east
turned pink, then rosy, and golden streaks shot
up. It was sunrise. A fresh wind blew across
the flower-prairie.
I rose; so did Rangoon. The child still
slept. I was investigating the contents of my
knapsack, and wondering whether it would pay
to stop to shoot and cook game,-for I was in
haste,-when a shout of laughter made me
The young scamp was hanging for dear life
to Rangoon's tail!




Rangoon was amazed. He gave a jump and
whirl which swung the child about like a feather;
but the boy still laughed and would not let go.
"Bless my soul, child! The horse might
kick the life out of you! I cried, and sprung
to the rescue. But Rangoon knew better.
He stopped, laid back his ears, and shook his
head. I got the midget away, and gave him a
fatherly caution.
Then breakfast, and a fresh start. Little
Mr. Quimbo chattered like a magpie. But

#a ;.

Spanish compliments. Out also came a ragged
old woman, who said she would take my horse.
"Is Sefor the Doctor here?" I asked in
Before he could answer the Doctor's portly
form, perspiring face, and jovial voice made
answer for themselves.
"Ransom, my dear fellow, you 've been for-
ever and a day. Here I 've spent two nights
in this wretched old place. But, my dear fel-
low, whose child is that ? "

M4 -!


toward noon he grew sleepy, and by the time
I struck the broad, quiet street of Mendios, he
was asleep in my arms.
This inn was quite imposing. Some of the
windows had balconies. It was built in a hol-
low square with a large paved court in the
middle. There was a fountain in the court.
You entered under a part of the house, through
an arched passage; and the clang of Ran-
goon's hoofs on the flags opened wide little
Mr. Quimbo's eyes.
"Has you dot dere, Mr. Man?" was his
salutation. "Where 's my papa 'n' mama ? "
I felt uneasy. What if I could n't find them ?
Out came the host with many low bows and

"I 's my papa 'n' mama's child," said digni-
fied little Mr. Quimbo.
"I picked him up on the prairie, Doctor.
Do you know anything of any emigrant-wagon
that has passed hereabout ? "
"They 're all over creation; you might as
well search for a needle in a haystack," said
the Doctor philosophically. Hold on, though.
Seems as if there was one that went out of here
early this morning." He inquired in Spanish
of the attentive innkeeper.
"Si, sefiores-and in it was the Sefiir Hayes,
his wife, who seemed like one distraught, and a
rascally negro. They go to Broad's ranch; it is
not far from here, five miles down the San Saba."



I must go on down there at once, old fel-
low," said I to the Doctor. I '11 be back this
And down the narrow trail by the San Saba
I galloped at the top of Rangoon's speed, with
little Mr. Quimbo on the pommel of the saddle.
By and by we saw the ranch, on a knoll
overlooking a bend of the stream.
Dere 's zat wagon now," remarked little
Mr. Quimbo. I dess I t'ink it's pretty mean-

He 's my brother Abner's. Abner! come
here!" the man called through the house.
Then to me, Stranger, you never see such a
time as we 've had here since Abner and his wife
come this morning She 's nigh about crazy
'cause they lost the boy on the perarie, an' she
goes on like a cre'tur' possessed. There now!'
There was a rush from an inner room-a
cry-a sob-and little Mr. Quimbo was
snatched out of my arms. When Mr. Hayes

.1^ :-^. '. -
-- ---

a -- ", --D .


goin' an' leaving' me. 'Mos' dot a min' not to
speak to 'em!"
A negro sat idly on the shafts; a lamb was
tied to one of the wagon-wheels by a long rope.
The negro looked up as we rode through the
gates, jumped several feet, and gave a shriek.
Oh, hi-yar! dar he is! Dar he is now,
dis yer minute! Oh, lors-a-massy, Mars' Hayes,
whar is you, anyway! Hi! Mars' Hayes! come
out hyar, quick, dis minute! "
And he performed around Rangoon a war-
dance startling to behold.
Two men rushed to the door as I ascended
the steps, the child in my arms.
"Stranger-God bless you!-where 'd you
come by that boy ? Tell me quick! "
He seized me and the child together.
Is he yours ? asked I.

had set his wife and boy on the settle,-for she
nearly fainted away,-he made a charge at
me. Everybody else made a charge at the
same time; two or three got hold of my hands
at once, and they were nearly shaken off in
the excitement and gratitude of these good
"Hold on-hold on!" said I when I got
my breath. It 's all right, friends, but I am
a bashful fellow, you see, and this is all quite
too much, you understand! "
In the hearty laugh that followed, the tears
were wiped away, and the men became com-
I can assure you, I did n't get away from
Broad's ranch that afternoon, and I left next
day under strict promise to see them again,
whenever I came that way.


~--~--~---' -"




[Begun in /te January number.]


WHEN Mildred led the little procession into
her mother's presence, Mrs. Fairleigh held out
her hand to Leslie and said kindly, How do
you do, my dear? Are you well?"
Oh, yes, ma'am, thank you," replied Leslie
heartily, though somewhat bashfully; I 'm al-
ways well," and then she giggled a little, partly
at the idea of her being anything else but well,
and partly because of their all having marched
in there in file like a corporal's squad.
"And how are you, Charlie ? said Mrs.
Fairleigh, giving him her other hand.
Charlie, having acknowledged that he too
was well, began to feel a little embarrassed
over the proper way of opening the subject
about which they had called.
Seeing this, Mrs. Fairleigh helped him out
by saying smilingly, Now, I wonder what it is
that two little girls and one big boy want to
consult me about. I don't think that it can be
dolls' dresses?"
This with another look at Leslie, who there-
upon availed herself of the chance to laugh
aloud, and said, No, indeed!"
"Well," said Mrs. Fairleigh, pretending to
think very hard, "it is n't anything about -
about books ? this time to Charlie.
No 'm," said Charlie.
"It is n't permission to go to see Leslie ? "
said Mrs. Fairleigh to Mildred.
No," said Mildred, clasping her hands,
while her eyes danced with pleasure, it is n't
that. Guess again, Mama! "
Well, I 'm afraid that I shall have to give it
up," said Mrs. Fairleigh, turning to Charlie.
"Some one will have to tell me."
By this time Charlie had found his tongue.
We want to know," he said, if we can't
get up a little play, just we three, and one or
two more, and have it up-stairs in the attic."

Then they all looked anxiously at Mrs. Fair-
Oh, that is it," she said pleasantly. But
tell me more about it. When do you wish to
have it? "
Oh, not for a long time yet," said Charlie,
"because it will take a long time to get ready.
I '11 have to write the play first, and then we '11
have to fix up the costumes, and rehearse, and
make the scenery, and all that."
But won't it be a great deal of work ? said
Mrs. Fairleigh.
Oh, we don't mind that! exclaimed Leslie
eagerly. It will be fun."
"Yes," said Mrs. Fairleigh, "but Mildred's
time is nearly all occupied now, going to school
and studying her lessons, and I should not like
her to undertake anything that will interfere
with her studies."
Then Mildred's hopes began to fade away.
She had not known before how firm a hold this
project had taken on her imagination. To be
sure, she never had acted in a play, but Charlie
had said that she could, and she now wanted
very much to try. The idea of appearing
dressed in a strange costume before other peo-
ple, while it made her heart beat faster, became
more attractive the more she thought of it. So
that now, whenhermother seemed about to refuse
permission, she felt very much disappointed,
and clasping her hands she looked at her mother
appealingly, and said, Oh, Mama, please! "
"But whom are you going to have for the
audience ?" said Mrs. Fairleigh, after a mo-
ment's thought.
"Just you, and Major Fairleigh, if he will
come," said Charlie, "and pa, and ma, and
maybe Frank Woods's father and mother, and a
few of Mildred's friends and Leslie's and mine;
that 's all."
"Is that all ? said Mrs. Fairleigh, smiling.
"And who will make the scenery and cos-
tumes ? "


Oh, we will," said Charlie, confidently.
"Well," said Mrs. Fairleigh, after another
few moments of silence in which she looked at
the eager faces in front of her, "I wish that I
could say yes. But first I must think it over.
And perhaps it is better for me to tell you now,
frankly, that I doubt very much whether it will
be possible. Would you be greatly disappointed
if I were to say no?"
Their three faces showed very plainly that
they would be. But Charlie spoke up manfully,
and said, Oh, you know best, Mrs. Fairleigh.
Maybe we ought not to have asked you.
Maybe it might give you a good deal of bother.
I just thought it would be fun, because we got
talking about it up there in the attic, where
there are a good many things we might use in a
theater, you know. But it does n't matter if
you 'd rather we did n't."
Then Mrs. Fairleigh gave Charlie her hand,
and said, "It is not that it would bother me,
Charlie; but there are so many other things to
be taken into consideration,- which I cannot
explain very well just now. As I tell you, I
will think it over and let you know by and by."
"Yes, ma'am," said Charlie; and then, not
knowing what else to say, he said, "Thank
you." And the deputation slowly filed out of
the room.
When they were once more by themselves,
Leslie said discontentedly, "Oh, I think she
Whereupon Mildred looked at her doubtfully
out of big eyes that were fill of disappointment.
I 'm not sure that we ought to have asked
her," said Charlie, thoughtfully, rubbing his
hand over his closely cropped hair. "And at
any rate," he added decidedly, "she was very
kind to us about it."
Whereupon Mildred turned her eyes upon
him, but there was no doubt whatever in them
this time, only pleasure that Charlie should
have spoken in that way of her mother. Still,
in her secret heart Mildred was dissatisfied.
It seemed to her that it would have been such
an easy thing for her mother to have said
yes, especially when they all wanted to have
the play so much. And when Leslie and
Charlie had gone home, Mildred went back
into the sitting-room and wandered around

aimlessly, until her mother looked up and said,
"What makes you so restless, dear ? Can't you
find anything to do ? "
"Oh, Mama," said Mildred, "won't you
please let us have the play? I wish you
"No, Mildred; really, I don't think that I
can," said Mrs. Fairleigh. "There are many
objections which I could not explain to Charlie
and Leslie, but I thought that you would un-
derstand. And now that I have considered it
more fully, I am quite sure that it is best for
me not to give my consent."
"Do you mean that we cannot have it at
all ?" asked Mildred, dolefully.
Yes," said her mother. I don't know that
I should altogether have approved of it at any
time; but just at present it is impossible to have
children use the attic for such a purpose."
Oh, Mama," said Mildred, "I think you
might! You never let me do anything that
other children do!"
"Don't I, dear ? said her mother.
"No," said Mildred, you don't; and I think
you 're real unkind! "
Mrs. Fairleigh made no reply to this, but
took up the book she had been reading when
Mildred came in.
Mildred felt the reproach of her mother's
manner, and was really a little frightened and
remorseful for what she had said. But some
evil influence induced her to face it out and
pretend that she did not care. She tried to
justify herself by talking, saying, You know I
never played in theatricals, Mama; and Char-
lie says I can, and I want to so much. We
would n't bother anybody, 'cause there 's no-
body ever goes into the attic, and-and-and
you said I might have it for a play-room, all to
myself. Don't you remember you did?"
Still her mother made no reply. And Mil-
dred stood there and looked at her, feeling
very uncomfortable. At one moment she had
almost made up her mind to say that she was
sorry for having spoken so ungraciously, and
that she did not mean it; but the next moment
the recollection of her disappointment and the
desire to show her resentment overcame the
better impulse. And while this battle was go-
ing on in her heart, Eliza came in on some



household errand which called her mother
away, and the opportunity was lost.
Then Mildred, feeling altogether dissatisfied
and unhappy, went to the window and stood
there looking out at the drizzling rain that had
begun to fall in the dull twilight of the No-
vember afternoon. There was nothing very
cheerful in the sight of an occasional umbrella,
or the smoking cab-horses and the wet drivers
going by; and after she had watched the lamp-
lighter hurrying along the pavement, marking
his progress with little misty blurs of yellow
light which were finally lost in the distance,
she turned away and went down-stairs into the
Now, Mildred knew very well that she ought
not to go into the kitchen, as Amanda was busy
preparing dinner; but at that moment she felt
in the humor to do what she ought not to do.
Besides, it seemed the most inviting place just
then, and she wanted Amanda to sympathize
with her in her disappointment. But, unfor-
tunately, Amanda was late with her dinner, and
consequently was what she herself would have
called "mighty hard driven." She had the
oven doors open, basting a roast of lamb which
obstinately refused to take on that rich, golden
crispiness on which Amanda prided herself; and
when Mildred came into the kitchen, she looked
at her sharply over the rims of her big silver
spectacles, and said, "W'at is it, honey,- w'at
you want? "
"I don't want anything," said Mildred. "I
just want to stay in here a minute; I 'm cold."
Well, dere 's a fire in you' ma's settin'-room,
an' anodder in de lib'ary, an' dose de bestest
places fer white chillun to go to git warm," said
Amanda, turning to the roast and pouring the
brown gravy over it with her big iron spoon.
"What is there for dinner?" said Mildred,
peeping over her shoulder into the oven.
"Now, Miss Milly," said Amanda peevishly,
"dere you are, you see, bodderin' me when
I 'm clean frustrated to death wid de dinner
bein' late! An' you know how it vexes you'
pa ef de dinner ain't ready at de 'xact time.
You 'd better run 'long, I tell you; you' ole
mammy 's cross. Run away, dat 's a good
chile." And Amanda, closing the oven doors,
bustled off to other matters.

"I don't care!" said Mildred. "If you won't
tell me, I can see for myself." And as soon as
Amanda's back was turned she lifted the lid of
one of the pots. But a puff of hot steam came
up about her hand and startled her so that
she dropped the lid; and in trying to catch it
she touched the stove with her wrist and was
"De great zookity zook!" cried Amanda,
facing around at the clatter of tin and iron,
"what you gone an' done now? I tell you,
Miss Milly, ef you don't go out o' dis yere
kitchen, I '11 call you' ma, sure!"
"I 've-burnt-my-hand! said Mildred,
trying to overcome a strong desire to cry, as
she held the injured wrist to her mouth and
looked at Amanda reproachfully through her
"Well, den, it sarves you mighty near right
fer mussin' an' meddlin' wid de stove, w'en
you ain't got no business in de kitchin, at all.
I tell you you 'd better go 'long befo' I call
you' ma! "
Evidently Amanda was really angry, and
Mildred, who did not at all want to have her
mother appealed to just at this time, exclaimed,
"You 're just as hateful as you can be!" and
went out, banging the door after her.
Going up-stairs in a worse humor than when
she came down, Mildred went to her own
room, and sat there, and nursed her wrist and
tried to make herself believe that it was a very
much more serious burn than it really was, and
that nobody had any sympathy for her. If it
should "prove to be dangerous," so that she
should be "sick in bed, and maybe die," then
she guessed they would "all be sorry for being
so unkind! And she lighted the gas and ex-
amined her wrist very closely, rather hoping that
the burn was beginning to look alarming. But
although she held it very close to the light, she
could not make sure exactly where the burn
was, so that at last she had to give up that
source of consolation. Then she did not know
what to do with herself. Dinner would not be
ready for some time, and she did not want to go
down-stairs until it was ready.
This twilight hour was usually one of the hap-
piest in her twenty-four, for she generally spent
it sitting, at her mother's knee looking at the



fire and talking over what had happened dur-
ing the day. In fact the impulse to go down
into her mother's sitting-room, now, was so
strong that Mildred found it very hard to re-
sist. But she did resist it. She told herself
that she was very much ill-used and wronged,
and that she would stay all by herself, in her
own room. She rather expected that some one
would come for her, but no one came, and
after a while Mildred began to feel that staying
all by herself with nothing to do was not very
Then suddenly she remembered the tidy that
she was making for her mother's Christmas
gift. That, indeed, was a happy thought. She
could accomplish a great deal on that before
dinner, so she brought it out and started to
work. But for some reason she found that
the rather complicated pattern, which had al-
ways required a great deal of patience, was
unusually troublesome and vexatious. When
she tried to draw the threads the material puck-
ered up and the thread broke; and in mak-
ing the stitches she was annoyed to find, after a
great deal of labor, that in some places she had
taken up three or five instead of four. But Mil-
dred, with a deep frown upon her brows and a
pout upon her lips, persisted obstinately. When
the threads failed to come out easily, she jerked
them and picked at them with her needle; and
as for the stitches, she told herself that she was
doing the best she could and that they would
have to do. The result was that when the
dinner-bell rang, her cherished tidy, which had
depended on its neatness and precision for its
beauty, looked botched and spoiled, and she
herself was completely tired out.
Then Mildred threw down the work, and her
eyes once more filled with tears. Everything
seemed to go wrong with her that afternoon.
She laid herself down on the bed and hid her
face in the pillow, feeling very unhappy. Pres-
ently the door opened and Eliza came in.
"Miss Mildr'd," she said, "you' ma wants
to know why you don't come down to dinner."
"I don't want any dinner," cried Mildred
from the depths of the pillow.
"Why, Miss Milly," said Eliza in a gentler
voice, coming to her side, w'at 's the mattah ?
W'at you cryin' fer ? "


But Mildred did not answer her, and Eliza,
who, as I have said, was really good-hearted,
although she did not always seem so, put her
arm around her, and lifted her up, and said,
"Tell Eliza, honey, w'at 's the mattah ?"
Then Mildred, swallowing the lump in her
throat, managed to say, "Nothing. I-I-
spoiled the tidy I was making for Christmas."
Oh, pshaw! said Eliza, taking up the tidy
and looking at it. Is that all? Why, bless
you' heart, Miss Milly, I kin fix that fer you in
no time! I kin take them last stitches out easy,
an' run a hot iron over this yere puckerin' so 's
it '11 look jest as good as ever it was. Come,
now, jump up an' wash you' face, like a good
girl, an' come down-sta'rs. You' pa 's askin'
fer you. An' Mandy she 's fixed up one o'
them little ras'berry tarts fer you, that you like
so well, with a M on it, 'deed she has. An'
w'en I went into the kitchen fer to serve the
soup, she asked me if you was at the table, an'
w'en I said no, she tol' me to go tell you
'bout the tart."
Then Mildred, feeling that this was a peace-
offering from Amanda at least, reluctantly got
up, and with Eliza's help was soon ready to go
down-stairs. When she went into the dining-
room her mother looked at her, but made no
reference to her absence, while her father sim-
ply said, Well, young lady, you are late."
Mildred was not hungry and neglected the
dinner, although when Amanda's tart came on
she ate it all, partly to let Amanda see that she
forgave her, but mainly because it was good.
As it was Saturday evening, Mildred, after
dinner, had to prepare her lessons for Monday.
She was permitted to bring her books into the
library, where her father and mother usually sat
in the evening, her father in his big leather-
covered easy-chair, reading by the soft light of
a lamp, her mother on the other side of the
fireplace, reading sometimes, and sometimes
engaged on a piece of fancy work, but at all
times ready to help Mildred with her lessons.
But this evening her mother did not offer to
assist her, although Mildred found her lessons
particularly hard to learn. In fact she was not
in the frame of mind for studying. Although
by this time she had recovered from her disap-
pointment at not being allowed to have theat-


ricals in the attic, the shadow of the cloud be-
tween herself and her mother still darkened
her thoughts and interfered with her studies.
Every few minutes her gaze kept wandering
to where her mother sat, with her soft brown eyes
fixed upon her sewing. She began to think
that one smile from those dear lips was worth
more than any other pleasure on earth. She
was beginning to hate theatricals, and, more
unreasonably, she was beginning to feel dis-

nothing but trouble, at least she would show the
world that she could endure it. And so, with-
out asking to be allowed to sit up later, she
proudly kissed her father and mother good-
night, and went silently to her room. When at
last she was in bed she could not go to sleep,
but lay there brooding over the events of the
afternoon. It was her habit to leave her light
burning, and, later, her mother would come
up and see that she was safe and warm, and


pleased and angry with Charlie and Leslie
for having, innocently, caused her all this un-
Thinking of these things, Mildred found that
by the time nine o'clock had arrived she knew
no more of her lessons than when she had be-
gun them. Well, that meant getting up an
hour or two earlier on Monday morning. And
if there was anything that Mildred disliked, it
was having to get up early those cold, dark
November mornings, Monday mornings espe-
cially. But she set her lips closely together,
and made up her mind that if she was to have

give her a final good-night kiss, before putting
out the light. Would her mother do this to-
night ? or was she too greatly offended ? As
the time passed by it seemed to Mildred as if
she was not coming, and, for all her heroic de-
termination to endure the worst that might
befall her, she felt that she could not bear this
last stroke. A dozen times she started up in
bed to listen anxiously as she heard a distant
door close or a footfall on the steps, and each
time she sank back disappointed. At last, when,
feverish and excited, she had made up her mind
to get up and go down-stairs to seek her mother,


she finally did hear the well-known rustling of
skirts at the door, and her mother entered the
room. Then, forgetting all about her pride and
anger of the preceding hours, Mildred stretched
out her arms and cried tearfully, Oh, Mama,
Mama, I 'm so glad that you 've come! "
"Are you, Mildred ? said her mother, seat-
ing herself on the side of the bed.
Oh, yes, Mama," said Mildred, looking
very earnestly into her mother's eyes. "And I
am sorry for what I said this afternoon -just
as sorry as I can be!"
"And you don't think," said her mother,
"that I am unkind, or that I don't try to give
you as much pleasure as other children have ? "
Oh, no, no, no! cried Mildred, two tears
escaping from her full eyes, and rolling down
her cheeks, I did n't mean it, I was just hor-
rid! You know I did n't mean it!"
Then her mother put Mildred's arms around
her neck and said, "Yes, I know it, dear. It
hurt me this afternoon to have you say what
you did, but I knew that little girls and even
grown-up people, when they lose their temper,
sometimes hastily say things they do not mean.
And I was ready to forgive you for it. But I
was disappointed when my little girl did not
come to say that she was sorry."
Oh, Mama," said Mildred, I was just
hateful, that was all! I don't know what got
into me."
And she told her mother all that had hap-
pened: how she had made Amanda angry by
going into the kitchen, and had burned herself
on the stove, and had spoiled a piece of work
that she was making (she did not say for whom),
and had failed to get her lessons; "and every-
thing," she concluded, "seemed to go wrong."
"Shall I tell you what it reminds me of? "
said her mother, as she stroked the curly head.
"It reminds me of when you were very little,
and got a splinter in your finger. If you came
to me bravely and had it out right away, it
gave no more trouble; but if you lacked the
courage and let it stay in, it festered and be-
came very sore, and the longer it stayed the
sorer the finger became, and the harder it was
to get the splinter out. But now," she added
affectionately, patting Mildred's cheek, I think
all of the splinter is out, is n't it ? "

And Mildred, quite happy once more, laughed
and nodded her head, and kissed her mother
good-night; and when the gas was turned out,
she lay there with so contented a heart that al-
most before her mother had left the room, her
eyelids closed and she was asleep and dreaming.

WHEN the Loring Seminary omnibus, on its
rounds to gather up the day-scholars, stopped
in front of the Fairleigh mansion Monday
morning, Leslie Morton leaned out as far as
she dared, and beckoned to Mildred, who was
at the parlor window, to hurry. Wondering
what made Leslie so eager to speak to her,
Mildred quickly climbed into the omnibus.
Then Leslie made room for her by her side,
and, with a face full of importance, exclaimed,
" Oh, Dreddy, what do you think! "
"I don't know," said Mildred, with great
interest. What is it ?"
I 've got just the best news you ever heard
of! cried Leslie, clapping, her hands softly.
Have you ? said Mildred. Tell me! "
"Promise you won't tell," said Leslie ex-
citedly, "'cause it 's a secret."
May n't I tell mama? said Mildred.
"Oh, of course," said Leslie, laughing, you
may tell your mother; but not any of the girls."
"All right," said Mildred; I won't."
"Well," said Leslie, taking in a long breath,
and whispering the rest of it, "ma 's going to
give me a party Christmas week!"
"Is she? said Mildred, joyfully.
"Yes," said Leslie, laughing. "Won't that
be fine? And I 'm going to invite you and
Mabel Hensly and Carrie Wilkins, and, oh!
ever so many of the girls-only, you must n't
tell any of them yet. But that is n't all;
there's something else. You'd never guess in the
"What?" asked Mildred, opening her eyes
very wide. "Is it that secret that you and
Charlie had about me, up in the attic?"
No," replied Leslie, disdainfully; "that 's
Charlie's secret. No, you 'd never guess this.
We 're going to get up a play, and act it the
night of the party!"
Are you ? cried Mildred, staring at Leslie,
quite overcome by the extent of this information.




"Yes, yes; a real play!" continued Leslie, very
energetically, and speaking as fast as she could.
" Ma said we might. It all happened like this:
You know we were talking about Christmas at
your house the other day, and, when we went
home, I told ma that I did n't believe I 'd
have a good time this Christmas, at all-not
as we have in garrison. And ma said that if
I was a good girl, and studied hard, and got a
good report from Miss Snell, maybe she would
let me have a little party during Christmas
week. And then Charlie said why could n't
we have a play too, 'cause we had been talking
about it, don't you know. And ma said that
would be too much bother, and she would n't
listen to it for a long time. But Charlie said
it could be just a little play, and he would fix
it all himself. And he talked about the old-
fashioned things over at your house that he
thought your mother would lend us, said that
we would powder our hair, and all that, and
after a while he coaxed ma into saying that
she'd think about
it. And after the
play we 're going = :-
to have dancing,
and after that a I
supper, some ice- I I
and cake and --.
lemonade, and i .
lots of other good t -. _
things are n't
you glad?" con- "----- -
cluded Leslie, out THE
of breath.
"Yes, indeed!" said Mildred, her eyes
sparkling. But," she added more thought-
fully, "shall I-do you wish me to act?"
Of course," said Leslie; Charlie said that
you must."
But I don't believe that mama will let me,"
said Mildred.
Oh, yes, she will," replied Leslie, confi-
dently. Ma 's going over to see your mother
to-day to talk it over with her."
"Is she?" said Mildred.
This was a piece of news indeed.
Just then the omnibus stopped at Mabel
Hensly's house, and Leslie, exclaiming, "Oh,

.there's Mabel, now!" made that young lady,
when she got in, sit down on the other side,
and, rather to Mildred's surprise, proceeded to
tell her, too, all about the party. She won't
tell anybody," Leslie explained to Mildred. It
would not have made much difference if she
had told, for before the day was over Leslie
had confided the secret to every girl in school.
As for Mildred, she was so much occupied
with wondering what Mrs. Morton would say
to her mother about the party and the play,
and what her mother would reply, that her les-
sons rather suffered, especially as she had not
got up quite so early that morning to study
them as she had intended. It was Mildred's
custom to take her lunch to school, so that she
usually did not go home until afternoon. As
soon as she was in the house, however, she
went to her mother's room, and, not finding her
there, discovered that she was in the parlor
entertaining a visitor. Seeking Eliza, Mildred
learned that the visitor was actually Mrs. Mor-


ton. It was with the greatest impatience that
Mildred waited for the lady to depart; but when
she did go, Mildred was almost afraid to go to
her mother to learn the result. She was quite
sure that her mother would not let her act, but
would she let her go to the party ? At any
rate, she was determined that, whichever way
her mother decided; she would not again be
ill-tempered, but would show that she cared
more for her good opinion than anything else.
Only, she did hope that she would be allowed
to go to the party-and, oh! if her mother
only would let her act!
Mildred tried to be as calm and quiet as pos-


sible when she went into her mother's room,,
and fortunately her patience was not tried very
long. Her mother asked her one or two ques-
tions about school matters, and then said, I
suppose that Leslie has told you that her mama
is going to give her a little party ?"
Yes," said Mildred, eagerly.
"Would you like to go? asked her mother.
Oh, yes, indeed, Mama; ever so much! "
"Very well," said her mother; "I don't see
any reason why you should not, although it is a
long time before to be making promises."
Oh, thank you! cried Mildred, dancing
about her mother's chair.
Mrs. Morton was here this afternoon," con-
tinued Mrs. Fairleigh, "and she told me that
Charlie still wished to have a play."
At this Mildred stopped short and listened.
I did not tell Mrs. Morton that he had
spoken to me about it," said her mother, be-
cause I did not think it necessary to explain to
her my reasons for not wishing you to enter into
such an undertaking. But you are getting to
be a big girl now, dear, and I think that per-
haps it is better that you should begin to under-
stand such matters yourself, and help me by
exercising your own reason and judgment.
You know, or at least you ought to know, that
papa's health is the very first thought that I
have, and everything must be looked at with
that in view. And you know that any unusual
noise or excitement in the house is bad for him.
Now, it is for you and me to guard him against
the possibility of suffering. I have taken part in
private theatricals, and I know all about them.
I know that if you were to have a play in the
attic, there would be more or less hammering
and pulling things about, and coming to me for
this, and to Eliza for that, and there would be
running up and down stairs; all of which would
be bad for papa. We could not buy such
pleasure for ourselves at the cost of one day's
sickness to him, could we, dear ? "
And Mildred promptly shook her head.
So it is necessary for you and me to think
of all these things, and take care that he does
not run any such risks."
And Mildred nodded her head this time in
assent, and said gravely, though with a happy
expression," Of course, Mama, I ought to have

thought of that." It pleased her to be taken
into her mother's confidence and to become
her partner, as it were, in the business of caring
for her father.
So that in itself," continued Mrs. Fairleigh,
"was enough to decide me against Charlie's
plan. But there was more. If we gave the
entertainment in our house, we should have to
invite all of your friends to see it.'
"Should we? said Mildred, opening her
eyes. Charlie said we would ask only a few."
If we invited any one at all," said her
mother, we should have to ask every one.
Otherwise, those whom you did not ask would
feel disappointed, and some even might think
that you had slighted them on purpose, and
would feel hurt. To do that would not be po-
lite or kind. Now, if we invited all of your
friends, we should have to entertain them prop-
erly; we should have to provide music and a
supper. In other words, the theatricals would
gradually grow into a regular party. Experi-
ence has taught me that, time and time again.
Now, apart from considerations of papa's health,
we cannot afford to give a party this Christmas.
If we had plenty of money, it would be very
pleasant to entertain our friends; but to attempt
to do so when we have not the money would
be worse than silly. I and I am sure that you,
too-would rather spend what little money we
can spare in making a few poor people happy.
Don't you think that it would be pleasanter to
give old lame Joe a turkey for his Christmas
dinner, and hear him chuckle and say, Thank
you, ma'am; Miss Milly, de good Lord bress
you, honey; de ole woman an' de chillun '11 be
powerful pleased to see dis yere bird, dey will
dat!' than to watch Mademoiselle Jones, in her
lace frock, eating ice-cream ? "
Her mother imitated old Joe so cleverly, and
said all this so funnily, that Mildred laughed
and said, Of course I would."
I think it would give you more pleasure,"
said her mother, smiling. Then there is poor
old rheumatic Mrs. Trummle, who has to have
her winter's supply of flannel, and the Wakely
children to be made happy with a little Christ-
mas cheer, not to mention the societies to which
you and I belong -the Children's Aid So-
ciety,' and the Women's Mission,' which

have a use for all that we can give. And
finally, Sweetheart, if I have not already tired
you with this long list of reasons, I was afraid
that if you were to get interested in theatricals
in your own play-room, it would upset all of
your regular habits of study and amusement.
So now you see
why I decided
against Charlie's.- .
request." *- __ -i
Of course, Ji. -ri
dred, feeling as-" .
if she had grown
quite old and was i
being consulted I -
on a veryimpor- ,,,.'J.'
tant family mat- '11:
ter; "it never -
would have done iI' ;,
at all. Don't you ':
know,justassoon |
as Charlie spoke r ,
about it, I some- -_ .-l
how felt that it
would n't do, '
though I did n't
know why, ex-
actly. I guess
that was because
I did n't think."
"Perhaps so,"
said her mother.
seems that Mas- OH, DRE
ter Charlie has begged his mother to allow him
to have the theatricals at their own home on
the evening of the party. Mrs. Morton talked
to me a little doubtfully about it, but of course
I did not try to influence her one way or the
other; and when she spoke of our having some
things that Charlie wanted to borrow, I said that
I would be very glad indeed to lend the children
anything we had that would be of use."
"Did you ? said Mildred, looking very
much pleased.
Yes," said her mother; I am quite willing
to help them all that I can. Then Mrs. Mor-




I think it would be better to wait and see what
kind of a play Master Charlie is going to have,
before you promise to take part in it. There is
plenty of time, and it is never well for a little
girl to be too ready and eager to join in a thing
of this sort as soon as she is asked, and with-
out knowing what it is to be like. Don't you
agree with me, dear? "
"Why, yes, Mama, I suppose so," said Mil-
dred, slowly. Then she raised her downcast
face, smiled, and throwing her arms around her
mother's neck, cried, Really and truly I do,

(To be continued)


AND A BOY. 365

ton wanted to know if I would let you take
part. But that I could not promise her."
Here Mildred's face lengthened.
Not that I have any especial objection to
your playing in parlor theatricals," concluded
Mrs. Fairleigh ; "but it is all so uncertain that

: ---
9. .,.



ARK Cr-aa-sh,
boom-m, splash!
With a sound
like twenty thun-
derclaps com-
bined, the end of
a glacier has bro-
ken off; a moun-
tain of ice has been
launched into the sea
with a resounding splash,
making rings of mighty
waves that chase each
Other away from it; an
iceberg has been set free
to go on its travels into the melting south.
A glittering mass of transparent blue, lifting
its rainbow-crowned peak majestically two hun-
dred feet toward the clouds and plowing the
ocean to a depth of nearly one thousand five
hundred feet. Four such ice-mountains placed
side by side would cover a mile of distance.
And yet, massive as it is, the restless, ever-
moving, yielding waters dauntlessly attack it.
They scoop out a cavern here and a tunnel
there, they melt it into fantastic shapes, they
snatch off huge blocks, until the proud ice-
mountain humbly bends its head, totters and
surges, snaps in twain, plunges into the ocean,
and looms up again made over into two weird,
towering, grotesque monsters nodding defiance
to each other over the foam-covered waves.
Perhaps they hurl themselves against each
other with a crunch and a crash, and then sul-
lenly retire, each to go its own way and fulfil
its own mission of shipwreck, or silent melting
away into the unmeasured volume of the ocean.
Once it happened that one of these wander-
ing ice-mountains was so ingeniously shaped
by the warm waves that, when it snapped in
the middle and fell over on its side, one portion
of it rose with the honeycombed part toward

the water, thus making the iceberg an ice pal-
ace filled with many a crystal grotto which,
rising story upon story, stage upon stage, con-
verted the translucent mountain into a floating
crystal palace with transparent walls.
It would have been a pity if such a gorgeous
palace had passed away, with never an in-
habitant to profit by its existence, and so it was
fortunate that it was discovered by a troop of
seals migrating southward.
The seals might just as well have swarmed
over the outside of the iceberg, as they had
often done in previous cases; but possibly they
recognized the advantages of having a roof
over their heads, and consequently dived down
and came up inside of the crystal palace.
Anyhow, whatever their reasons, that is what
they did.
By hundreds and by thousands they clam-
bered up the irregular inner walls, occupying
the grottoes and ledges till the palace was
crowded to its full capacity with the noisy, ac-
tive creatures.
They might easily have been uncomfortable
in their splendid palace had not accident come
to their relief. The warm air from their bodies
and their warm breath rose to the top of the
iceberg and fortunately found thin spots in the
roof and melted holes, so that places of escape
for the bad air were made.
Of course this air, being warm, no sooner
reached the colder atmosphere outside than it
condensed like steam and rose, a white col-
umn, above the palace, looking very much like
SIndeed, a sailing vessel passing that way
thought it was smoke, and the captain changed
his course to go nearer the iceberg, hoping to
save the lives of some shipwrecked sailors, who,
he supposed, had built a fire on the berg.
Fancy your own astonishment at coming
upon a crystal palace in mid-ocean, inhabited


by thousands of seals, and you may then un-
derstand how the captain and his crew felt
when, looking through the clear walls of the
stately structure, they saw the countless ani-
mals in conscious security playing or sleeping
in the fairy-like chambers.
The captain bewailed his lot that there were

twenty thousand dollars' worth of sealskins in
sight, but out of reach!
It was disappointing for the captain, but it
was tolerably comfortable for the seals, who
take more interest in sealskins when they wear
them than when human beings make coats of

-- :fl


*'---.r *'
-i -1'r. I

'-I* AN 01( 1-w :'.'f

A dog, a gun, a buckhorn knife;
With garments torn, with face unshorn
And all his better life outworn.
But then his fond white flock of sheep
Fair, level water, willow-lined,

The one loved stream in all that land!
You should have seen it wind and wind
Through unfenced seas of loam and sand
Long years ago, with here and there
A pack of wolves, a waiting bear,
W hen this stout-hearted, lor old man

Kept flock as only Scotchmen can!

And planned to buy, and build, and rest,
Where stile his white flock fed and drank.ep:
Fair, level water, willow-lined,

The e loved stream in all that land!
You should have seen it wind and wind
Through unfenced seas of loam and sand
Long years ago, with here and there
A pack of wolves, a waiting bear,
When this stout-hearted, lorn old man
Kept flock as only Scotchmen can!

And how he loved Tulare's bank,
And planned to buy, and build, and rest,
The while his white flock fed and drank.
Aye he had thrift and of the best,
And back, where no rich man laid hands,
Had bought and bought wide desert lands.


iN N MLLr.

LEat sindlin i',*.'n ric !i:h and strong-
Ti li :,l, o!. r: !. : ru l wrong.

"I 'll have his lands," the rich man cried.
His lands are broad as his Scotch brogue -
That 's saying they are broad and wide.
I '11 have his lands! He calls me rogue.
Out, out!-away! I will not spare
One drop from that deep river there.

And, banished so, they sadly turned,
The barefoot lass, the bent old man,
To where the barren desert burned-
His dog, his gun, a water-can;
His white flock bleating on before
All loath to leave the watered shore;
His dog with drooping tail and ears;
His barefoot, tattered child in tears.

They found a rounded mound not far,
That rose above the sage and sand,
Where one green willow, like a star
In some dark night, stood lone and grand.
And here the can and gun were swung;
In grief as when lorn Israel hung



Her harp on willow-tree and kept
Sad silence as she sat and wept.
The dog crouched fretful at their feet;
The woolly fold crept close with fear,

The dog sprang up, his eyes aflame,
And all his frame did quiver so!
Then like a shot right down he sped, .
Crept back all blood and fell down dead.


And one meek lamb did bleat and bleat,
So pitiful, so sadly drear,
The girl crept from the bowed old man,
Reached up and took the water-can,
And gave it water while he slept,
The while she silent wept and wept.
Then came gaunt wolves all sudden came -
And sat in circle close below!
VOL. XIX.-24.

She snatched the gun. No more she wept,
But watched, the while the shepherd slept.

Then came the moon. Vast peaks of snow
Flashed silver from Sierra's height,
And lit the lonely scene below
As if with some unearthly light-
A light that only made a gloom


'Mid silence, space, and scoreless room.
Why, all that moonlit scene but seemed
Such as half-maddened men have dreamed.

At last the sun burst like a flame,
And shaggy wolves fled from the light.
Then wide-eyed, wondering rabbits came
And stood in circle left and right.
They stood so graceful, trim, and tall,
You might have guessed this was a ball
Where dainty dancers, slim and neat,
Stood waiting with impatient feet.

The old man wakened. Why, his fold
Had crept so close ere break of morn
That he reached out and there laid hold
Of his huge ram by one curled horn!
But then the dog! Ah, there were tears!
He scarce had wept for years and years,
But now it seemed his heart would break
In sorrow for that dead brute's sake.

He said no word, but silent took
In his broad, heavy, honest hand
His long, strong, steel-shod shepherd's crook,
And digged a deep grave in the sand.
But why so eager now? so wild ?
He turns, he catches up his child:
"My bairn, my bairn, my eyes are dim;
But bide ye, bide, and trust in Him!

Away he sped; and soon he brought
From some old camp a long black rod
On his bent back. Then, as he wrought,
She thought of Moses; prayed to God
That water for the thirsting flock
Might flow as from the smitten rock,
And save her father--save him sane
There in that fearful desert plain.

He forced the black tube through the sod
Beneath the waving willow-tree
With giant's strength. Then, as if God
Decreed, it sank, sank swift and free-
Sank sudden through the slime and sand,
Sank deep, slid swift, slid from his hand!
Then he sprang up, aghast and dazed
And piteous, as if sudden crazed.
He caught his gun; he madly wrenched
The barrels out and thrust them down;
And then he fell, fell drenched, fell drenched
With floods that leaped as if to drown!
And all Tulare came there to drink,
As happy-faced as you can think.




[Begun in tihe January number.]
THE time of our summer flitting varied.
Sometimes we stayed at Green Peace till after
strawberry-time, and lingered late at the Val-
ley; sometimes we went early, and came back
in time for the peaches. But in one month or
another there came a season of great business
and bustle. Woolen dresses were put away in
the great cedar-lined camphor-chests studded
with brass nails; calico dresses were length-
ened, and joyfully assumed; trunks were
packed, and boxes and barrels; carpets were
taken up and laid away; and white covers were
put over pictures and mirrors. Finally we de-
parted, generally in more or less confusion.
I remember one occasion when our rear column
reached the Old Colony station just as the train
was starting. The advance-guard, consisting of
our mother and the older children, was already
on board, and Harry and Laura have a vivid
recollection of being caught up by our father
and tumbled into the moving baggage-car, he
flashing in after us, and all sitting on trunks,
panting, till we were sufficiently revived to pass
through to our seats in the passenger-car. In
those days the railway went no farther than
Fall River. From there we must take a car-
riage and drive twelve miles to our home in
the Island of Rest. Twelve long and weary
miles they were, much dreaded by us all. The
trip was made in a large old-fashioned vehicle,
half hack, half stage. The red cushions were
hard and uncomfortable; the horses were aged;
their driver, good, snuff-colored Mr. Anthony,
felt keenly his duty to spare them, and consid-
ered the passengers a minor affair. So we five
children were cramped and cooped up, I know
not how long. It seemed hours that we must
sit there, while the ancient horses crawled up

the sandy hills, or jogged meditatively along
the level spaces. Every joint developed a sep-
arate ache; our legs were cramped-the short
ones from hanging over the seat, the long ones
because the floor of the coach was piled with
baskets and bandboxes. It was hot, hot! The
flies buzzed, and would not let one go to sleep;
the dust rolled in thick yellow clouds from un-
der the wheels, and filled eyes and mouth, and
set all a-sneezing. Decidedly, it was a most
tiresome jaunt. But all the more delightful
was the arrival! To drive in under the apple-
trees, just as the evening was falling cool and
sweet; to tumble out of the stuffy prison coach,
and race through the orchard, and out to the
barn, and up the hill behind the house--ah!
that was worth .all the miseries of the journey.
From the hill behind the house we could see
the sunset; and that was one thing we did not
have at Green Peace, shut in by its great trees.
Here, before our eyes, still aching from the dust
of the road, lay the great bay, all a sheet of sil-
ver, with white sails here and there; beyond it
Conanicut, a long island, brown in the noon
light, now softened into wonderful shades of
amethyst and violet; and the great sun going
down in a glory of gold and flame. Nowhere
else are such sunsets! Sometimes the sky was
all strewn with fiery flakes and long delicate
flame-feathers, glowing with rosy light; some-
times there were purple cloud-islands, edged
with crimson, and between them and the real
island a space of delicate green, so pure, so
cold, that there is nothing to compare with it
save a certain chrysoprase our mother had.
Gazing at these wonders, the children would
stand, full of vague delight, not knowing what
they thought, till the tea-bell summoned them
to the house for a merry picnic supper. Then
there was clattering up-stairs, washing of hands
in the great basin with purple grapes on it (it
belonged in the guest-chamber, and we were


not allowed to use it save on special occasions
like this), hasty smoothing of hair and straight-
ening of collars, and then clatter! clatter! down
There was nothing remarkable about the
house at the Valley. It was just a pleasant
cottage, with plenty of sunny windows and
square, comfortable rooms. But we were sel-
dom in the house save at meal-times, or when
it rained; and our real home was under the
blue sky. First, there was the orchard! It
was an ideal orchard, with the queerest old ap-
ple-trees that ever were seen. They did not
bear many apples, but they were delightful to
climb in, with trunks slanting so that one could
easily run up them, and branches that curled
round so as to make a comfortable back to lean
against. There are few pleasanter things than
to sit in an apple-tree and read poetry, with
birds twittering undismayed beside you, and
green leaves whispering over your head. Laura
was generally doing this when she ought to
have been mending her stockings.
Then there was the joggling-board, under the
two biggest trees. The delight of a joggling-
board is hardly to be explained to children who
have never known it; but I trust many children
do know it. The board is long and smooth and
springy, supported at both ends on stands; and
one can play all sorts of things on it. Many a
circus has been held on the board at the Valley!
We danced the tight-rope on it; we leaped
through imaginary rings, coming down on the
tips of our toes; we hopped its whole length on
one foot; we wriggled along it on our stom-
achs, or on our backs; we bumped along it on
hands and knees. Dear old joggling-board! it
is not probable that any other was ever quite
so good as ours. Near by was the pump, a
never-failing wonder to us when we were little.
The well over which it stood was very deep,
and it took a long time to bring the bucket up.
It was a chain-pump, and the chain went rat-
tlety-clank! rattlety-clank! round and round,
and the handle creaked and groaned, "Ah-o o/
ah-ho !" When you had turned a good while
there came out of the spout a stream of-
water? No! of daddy-long-legses! They lived,
apparently, in the spout, and they did not like
the water; so when they heard the bucket com-

ing up, with the water going "lip lap! as it
swung to and fro, they came running out, doz-
ens and dozens of them, probably thinking
what unreasonable people we were to disturb
them. When the water did finally come, it
was wonderfully cold, and clear as crystal.
The hill behind the house was perhaps our
favorite play-room. It was a low, rocky hill,
covered with prostrate juniper bushes, which
bore blue berries very useful in our housekeep-
ing. At the top of the rise the bare rock
cropped out, dark gray, covered with flat, dry
lichens. This was our house. It had several
rooms: the drawing-room was really palatial, a
broad floor of rock, with flights of steps leading
up to it. The state stairway was used for kings
and queens, conquerors, and the like; the
smaller was really more convenient, as the
steps were more sharply defined, and you were
not so apt to fall down them. Then there was the
dining-room rock, where meals were served -
daisy pudding and similar delicacies; and the
kitchen rock, which had a real oven, and the
most charming cupboards imaginable. Here
were stored hollyhock cheeses, and sorrel leaves,
and twigs of black birch, fragrant and spicy,
and many other good things.
On this hill was celebrated, on the first of
August, the annual festival of "Yeller's Day."
This custom was begun by Flossy, and adhered
to for many years. Immediately after breakfast
on the appointed day, all the children assem-
bled on the top of the hill and yelled. Oh!
how we yelled! It was a point of honor to
make as much noise as possible. We roared,
and shrieked, and howled, till we were too
hoarse to make a sound; then we rested and
played something else, perhaps, till our voices
were restored, and then-yelled again! Yel-
ler's Day was regarded as one of the great days
of the summer. By afternoon we were gener-
ally quite exhausted, and we were hoarse for
several days afterward. I cannot recommend
this practice. In fact, I sincerely hope that no
child will attempt to introduce it; for it is very
bad for the voice, and might in some cases do
real injury.
Almost every morning we went down to the
bay to bathe. It was a walk of nearly a mile
through the fields-such a pleasant walk! The



fields were not green, but of a soft russet, the
grass being thin and dry, with great quantities
of a little pinkish fuzzy plant whose name we
never knew. They were divided by stone walls,
which we were skilful in climbing. In some
places there were bars which must be let down,
or climbed over, or crawled through, as fancy
suggested. There were many blackberries, of
the low-bush variety, bearing great clusters of

berries, glossy, beautiful, delicious. We were
not allowed to eat them on the way down, but
only when coming home. Some of these fields
belonged to the Cross Farmer, who had once
been rude to us. We regarded him as a man-
ner of demon, and were always looking around
to see if his round-shouldered, blue-shirted figure
were in sight. At last the shore was reached,
and soon we were all in the clear water, shriek-
ing with delight, paddling about, puffing and
blowing like a school of young porpoises.
At high tide the beach was pebbled; at low
tide we went far out, the ground sloping very
gradually, to a delightful place where the bottom

was of fine white sand, sparkling as if mixed
with diamond dust. Starfish crawled about on
it, and other creatures; crabs, too, sometimes,
that would nip an unwary toe if they got a
chance. Sometimes the water was full of jelly-
fish, which we did not like, in spite of their
beauty. Beyond the white sand was a bed of
eel-grass, very dreadful, not to be approached.
If a person went into it, he was instantly seized
and entangled, and
drowned before
the eyes ofhis com-
panions. This was
our firm belief. It

ly due to Ander-
sen's story about
the Little Sea-
Maid," which had
made a deep im-
pression on us all,
with its clutching
polyps and other
submarine terrors.
We all learned
to swim more or
S less, but Flossy
f\ .\. was the best swim-
SSometimes we
S ,/; went to bathe in
Sthe afternoon in-
Sf stead of the morn-
P ing, if the tide
suited better. I re-
member one such
time when we came delightfully near having
an adventure. It was full moon, and the tide
was very high. We had loitered along the
beach after our bath, gathering mussels to boil
for tea, picking up gold-shells or scallop-shells,
and punching seaweed bladders, which pop
charmingly if you do them right.
German Mary, the good, stupid nurse, who was
supposed to be taking care of us, knew nothing
about tides; and when we came back to the
little creek which we must cross in leaving the
beach, lo! the creek was a deep, broad stream,
the like of which we had never seen. What
was to be done? Valiant Flossy proposed to


swim across and get help, but Mary shrieked
and would not hear of it, and we all protested
that it was impossible. Then we perceived that
we must spend the night on the beach; and
when we were once accustomed to the idea, it
was not without attraction for us. The sand was
warm and dry, and full of shells and pleasant
things; it was August, and the night would be
just cool enough for comfort after the hot day;
we had a pailful of blackberries, which we had
picked on the way down, meaning to eat them
during our homeward walk; Julia could tell
us stories; altogether it would be a very pleas-
ant occasion. And then to think of the ro-
mance of it! "The Deserted Children!"
" Alone on a Sandbank !" "The Watchers of
the Tide! There was no end to the things
that could be made out of it. So, though poor
Mary wept and wrung her hands, mindful
(which I cannot remember that we were) of
our mother waiting for us at home, we were all
very happy.
The sun went down in golden state. Then,
turning to the land, we watched the moon ris-
ing, in softer radiance, but no less wonderful
and glorious. Slowly the great orb rose, turn-
ing from pale gold to purest silver. The sea
darkened, and presently a little wind came up,
and began to sing with the murmuring waves.
We sang, too, some of the old German student-
songs which our mother had taught us, and
which were our favorite ditties. They rang out
merrily over the water:
Die Binschgauer wollten wallfahrten gez'n /
(The Binschgauer would on a pilgrimage go!)
Was kommt dort von der Hok'?
(What comes there over the hill?)

Then Julia told us a story. Perhaps it was
the wonderful story of Red-cap, a boy who
met a giant in the forest, and did something
to help him, I cannot remember what. Where-
upon the grateful giant gave Red-cap a covered
silver dish, with a hunter and a hare engraved
upon it. When the boy wanted anything he
must put the cover on, and ask the hunter and
hare to give him what he desired; but there must
be a rime in the request, else it could not be

granted. Red-cap thanked the giant, and, as
soon as he was alone, put the cover on the
dish and said:
Silver hunter, silver hare,
Give me a ripe and juicy pear!
Taking off the cover, he found the finest pear
that ever was seen, shining like pure gold, with
a crimson patch on one side. It was so deli-
cious that it made Red-cap hungry, so he cov-
ered the dish again and said:
Silver hunter, silver rabbit,
Give me an apple, and I'11 grab it!
Off came the cover, and lo! there was an apple
the very smell of which was too good for any
one save the truly virtuous. It was so large
that it filled the dish, and its flavor was not to
be described, so wonderful was it. A third
time the happy Red-cap covered his dish, and
Hunter and hare, of silver each,
Give me a soft and velvet peach!
And when he saw the peach he cried out for
joy, for it was like the peaches that grew on
the crooked tree just by the south door of the
greenhouse at Green Peace, and those were
the best trees in the garden, and therefore the
best in the world.
The trouble about this story is that I never
can remember any more of it. But it must
have been about this time that we were hailed
from the opposite side of the creek; and pres-
ently a boat was run out, and came over to the
sand beach and took us off. The people at
the Poor Farm, which stood on a hill close by,
had seen the group of Crusoes and come to
our rescue. They greeted us with words of
pity (which were quite unnecessary), rowed us
to the shore, and then kindly harnessed the
farm horse and drove us home. German Mary
was loud in her thanks and expressions of re-
lief. Our mother was also grateful to the good
people, but from us they received scant and
grudging thanks. If they had only minded
their own business and let us alone, we could
have spent the night on a sandbank. Now it
was not likely that we ever should! And,
indeed, we never did.

(To be continued.)


AT The Little-End-of-Nowhere lived a single
little man;
He had nobody for company but a little black-
There was not much to do there, as perhaps
you will suppose,
For as he had no neighbors, he had neither
friends nor foes.

And so he fell to wondering, and wondered
night and day;
" I wonder why the people live so very far
away !
They must find it inconvenient, I should think
extremely so!
For when they come here, they will have so
very far to go!"

At last he took a high resolve; he said, I '11
go and see
Why those misguided people live so far away
from me !

Perhaps it is their ignorance, and I can set
them straight
Before they grow so very old that it will be
too late 1 "

So he walked and walked and walked and
walked until he found a city,
And to the people he expressed his wonder-
ment and pity.
He was completely thunderstruck when some
one chanced to say,
" 'T is you, my worthy little friend, who live so
far away "

He went home pondering deeply; he said, It
cannot be!
That person is insane-'t is they that live so
far from me!
But I '11 be patient with them, and perhaps
they '11 learn, some day,
That such a distance from my home must
needs be far away! "

I~- j a
- -.~ ----


B\ HEI- RCL F H. i'liH.

ALLIGATORS, of various species, are common
in most of the South American rivers, but in
all my travels I never found them so abundant
as on the Upper Paraguay and its tributaries.
That part of Brazil is a wild, almost uninhabited,
region, near the frontier of Bolivia. The rivers
are bordered by immense swamps, which are
overflowed every year, as the streams swell
with the heavy rains. Once a month a steamer
passes through this vast watery desert, carrying
merchandise and passengers to the four or five
small cities and villages that have been estab-
lished along the base of the highlands. At long
intervals may be seen on the river-shore a half-
ruined house, the dwelling of some cattle-farmer;
but even these are wanting in many parts, and
for hundreds of miles not a single sign of civili-
zation is encountered, not even an Indian ca-
noe, or a thatched hut such as the wild tribes
use for shelter. Excepting the desert of Sa-
hara, it is probably the most thinly inhabited
region in the world.
Of course, there being no hunters to kill them,
wild animals are very plentiful; it is not uncom-
mon to see jaguars and deer, even from the
deck of the steamer. But, most of all, alliga-
tors abound. When the waters are highest,
they roam over the flooded land, seeking the
small animals, water-birds and fish, on which

they live; at that time they are not so common
along the river-channels, and only now and then
may one be seen in the shallows, with but the
top of his ugly head above the surface of the
In the dry season, as the waters recede, they
gather in the rivers in such amazing numbers
that I can compare them only to tadpoles 'in a
pond. I have counted over sixty on a small
sand-bank, literally piled one over the other;
while, all around, the water was full of them.
They lie thus for hours, basking in the sun, and
quite still; but, if a steamer approaches, the
mass begins to move, there is a great rattling
of scales as they hustle each other to reach the
water, and in a moment only five or six are
left, who raise their heads and stare at the ves-
sel until it has passed them. These more cour-
ageous fellows are generally the larger ones, and
offer tempting shots. I am no sportsman, but
my brother-in-law, who was traveling, with me,
killed many from the steamer's deck, using only
coarse shot.
It is not so easy to kill those that are seen
on the surface of the water: shot, and even a
bullet, will glance off from the hard skull unless
the eye be hit. The top of the eye-socket is
never more than two or three inches above the
surface, and as they are usually at rather long

range, even a skilful marksman may be par- these lands, accompanied by my boy-of-all-
doned for a miss. work, Carlos, who, from long experience, had
Though so numerous, the alligators are not become a very handy fellow in all sorts of
generally regarded as dangerous. I have often collecting.
seen the young negroes and Indian boys swim- On these occasions we would take a light
ming within a few yards of them, and the rep- wooden canoe, such as is commonly used on
tiles paid little attention to their play. Cattle, these rivers. Paddling half a mile up the river,
too, wade about the flooded grass-lands, in we would seek a place where the banks, being
search of pasturage, and are rarely molested by lower, were overflowed; once past these bar-
alligators. In fact, unless driven to bay or rav- riers, we could push the canoe for miles over the
enous with hunger, they dare not attack man flooded land behind, making long detours to
or the larger animals; but they are always on avoid the thickets of thorny bushes or occa-
the watch for smaller prey. One day I was sional clumps of forest. I had made an insect-
walking with one of my hunters near the shore net with a long handle, to reach and sweep the
of the Paraguay, when he .
shot and wounded a bird. .
It was a kind of snipe, a ,
rare species, which I was ,A
anxious to add to our col- e 'd e w i l'
election; but, as I ran to '
secure it, it fluttered away .
and fell into the water. I
was just plunging in after
it when a black snout ap-
peared above the surface; "...,
there was a clashing of
teeth, and I saw that an
alligator had caught the
bird by the wing. As I
hesitated, doubting whether
it would be safe to contest .
the prize, other black noses
arose here and there, until "
half a dozen were strug-
gling and splashing for the .-.-.j-
morsel. Have a care!" "
cried my hunter, running .
up. But I needed no warn
ing; I retired to dry
ground, leaving the reptiles
to settle the dispute in their
own way.
The flooded lands are
a rich collecting-ground for --- --_- -
waters rise, the grass grows OVERBOARD." (SEE NEXT PAGE.)
longer and floats on the surface, mingled with bushes and weeds without leaving the canoe;
tall weeds and bushes; and these swarm with but where the water was not more than three
beautiful insects. While at Corumbd, on the feet deep I generally found it more convenient
Upper Paraguay, I often made excursions over to wade about after specimens, while Carlos


paddled the canoe after me. Floating vegetable
matter covers the water so thickly that little of
the surface can be seen; and, of course, all be-
neath is hidden; indeed, the whole region may
be described as a grassy and weedy plain float-
ing upon a vast lake of shallow water.
One day, while thus wading and up to my
waist in water, I was much occupied with an
insect I had just captured. Carlos was seated in
the stern of the canoe, ten yards behind me,
lazily pushing it through the grass, using his
spear-shaped paddle as a pole. Suddenly I
heard a great shouting and splashing. Turning
quickly, I saw the canoe almost upset, Carlos
struggling in the water, and-the cause of all
the commotion a great alligator making wild
plunges at the boat, luckily from the side op-
posite to where Carlos had fallen. The boy
struggled to his feet and scrambled into the
canoe again; but, as he did so, the alligator
made another rush, and, getting his head and
one leg over the side of the canoe, snapped his
great jaws within a few inches of his face.
Carlos was ordinarily brave enough, but this
attack was too much for him; he jammed the
paddle into the reptile's mouth and then jumped
overboard, and running to the other end of the
canoe, he climbed in and stood there, dripping
and ready for a fresh retreat. Meanwhile,
although I had not been attacked, my situ-
ation was far from pleasant; the alligator was
not five yards away, and had come around
between me and the canoe, and there was
an impenetrable thicket of bushes behind me.
Carefully keeping my eyes on the reptile, I
made a wide circuit, and so reached the other
side of the canoe and scrambled in with Carlos.
The alligator now lay quiet, about two yards
from the canoe, but he blocked the only path
out; and our paddle, crushed by his teeth, floated
on the surface close to him. Fortunately we had
a gun. Hastily withdrawing the shells, which
were loaded with fine shot, I put in others con-
taining very heavy loads of buckshot. Then,
handing the gun to Carlos, who was in a more
favorable position, I told him to aim at the alli-
gator's eye. As he fired, with the muzzle almost
against the creature's head, it leaped half out of
the water, and turned completely over, but con-

tinued to struggle. A shot from the other bar-
rel, which took effect in its throat, finished the
work. The body lay stretched on the water,
with the dull-yellow surface turned upward. We
found that it measured about eleven feet from
nose to tip of tail, so that it was an unusually
large individual for this region.
After that I was much more cautious in my
work on the flooded lands, and did not wade
when it could be avoided. Before this alligator
attacked the canoe, I must have passed within
two feet of him; they move so quietly under the
grass that no disturbance is seen on the surface.
On the Amazon, one species of alligator at-
tains an immense size, even eighteen or twenty
feet in length in some cases; but these big fel-
lows are not nearly so common as their smaller
cousins of the Paraguay. They frequent the
shallow lakes near the river. In one lake I
counted eighteen of these monsters basking at
once on the surface. The species is dangerous
at times; it is very cunning, and, though it
will not attack a man in fair battle, it is always
perilous to expose one's self to a sudden assault.
The female alligator lays twenty or thirty eggs
together, on land, and generally in a swampy
thicket; the eggs are white, hard, and rough,
making a loud noise when rubbed one against
another. The hunters say that if this noise is
made, the mother alligator comes to protect her
nest. Whether this be true, I cannot say; but
I know that when little alligators crawl out from
the eggs, they are abandoned to their own re-
sources; if an old alligator encounters them,
they are eaten like any other game. One day,
when canoeing on the Paraguay, we found some
fifty of these amiable babies crawling down a
bank to the water. I caught half a dozen of
them-they were about eight inches long-
and put them into a tea-kettle which we had.
Notwithstanding their diminutive size, they were
very brave, snapping fiercely at us if we put a
finger near their jaws.
We kept them for some days, and they be-
came quite tame, eating rice and meat; but
one night they wandered off, and we saw them
no more.
Many Indian tribes eat alligators, and white
hunters also use them for food at a pinch.



BY R. E. L.


DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Perhaps you would like
to hear what I did the other day. I am not
more vain than most people, I think, but still,
when one has done a fine thing one likes to
have some notice taken of it. My grandmis-
tress (she is my mistress's mother, and I think
that a good name for her) bought me in Paris
for her little girl, and put me in her trunk, and
brought me home. It was a long, dull voyage,
and I did not leave my box once all the time.
When we reached New York, a man came and
opened my grandmistress's boxes and trunks,
and pulled all her things about, and poked into
every corner. He kept talking about "duty"
all the time, but it was not my idea of duty, and
I am sure every doll, even the jointed wooden
ones that cost half a sou, will agree with me.
I cost five francs myself, and have naturally a
very high sense of duty.
Well, when this fussy man had taken out
all the dresses, and boots, and shoes, and shawls,
and books, and bonnets, and bangles, and stock-
ings, and gloves, and things, he came at last to
my box, which was in a corer at the very bot-

tom of the trunk. "What is this, madam?"
he asked, as bold as brass. My grandmistress
had been very angry at first, but she always sees
the funny side of things, and now she began to
laugh. "What have you here, madam ? asked
the man again. Jewelry, laces, trinkets of any
description? All subject to duty. I must ex-
amine this box, madam. The law! the law
compels me to open this box." Open it, sir,
by all means," said my grandmistress, still
laughing. So he unfastened the hasp, and -
bang!!--out I popped, and hit him on the nose,
just as hard as I could hit. My head is very
heavy, and what with the blow and the sur-
prise of it, the man frowned at me angrily,
dropped me into the trunk, and said he did n't
"care to examine anything, else." You may
imagine how pleased I was! And as for my
grandmistress, she tried to keep her face straight,
but could not help laughing. If I could only
speak, I should have said to the man, so angry,
" My dear sir, there are different sorts of duty
in the world, and mine is to surprise people! "

i '- *! j
1' ',.,' \ '*,

_ ', -- ---




[Begun in the December number.]

I 'M sorry he 's gone," said Dorothy to her-
self, gazing with longing eyes after the Harle-
quin. He was n't much to talk to, but he
was awful beautiful to look at"; and, having
relieved her mind by this remark, she was just
starting to take another walk through the shop
when she suddenly caught sight of a small door
in one corner. It was n't much larger than a
rat-hole, but it was big enough for her to go
through, and that, of course, was the important
thing; and as she never could bear to go by
strange doorways until she knew where
they led to, she immediately ran through
this one, and, quite to her surprise, i|l
found herself outside the toy-shop. ,
There was nothing very pe-
culiar about the outside of the I 'lll
shop, except that a high bank 'i I'
which sloped down from the *-- I'
wall was completely over- '
grown with little green rock- '' i'
ing-chairs. They were grow-
ing about in great confusion, '
and once or twice, when Dor-
othy's frock happened to .j_
brush againstthem, quite an
avalanche of them went clat-
tering down the bank and 1 i
broke up at the bottom into
curious little bits of wood like
jack-straws. This made climb-
ing down the bank very exciting,
but she got safely to the bottom at "
last, and ran off to see what other \ i,
discoveries she could make.

self in a beautiful wood-not a make-believe
affair like the toy-farm, but a real wood with
soft grass and pads of dark-green moss grow-
ing underfoot, and with ferns and forest flowers
springing up on all sides. The wind was rus-
tling pleasantly in the trees, and the sunlight,
shining down through the dancing leaves, made
little patches of light that chased each other
about on the grass, and as Dorothy walked
along she felt happier than she had at any time
since losing the Blue Admiral Inn. To be sure,
it was n't the easiest matter in the world to get
along, for as the trees and the bushes and the
blades of grass were all of the natural size and
Dorothy was no bigger than a wren, she fell

; I 1 I I .
I \

Oh, lovely! cried Dorothy, clapping her over a good many twigs and other small obsta-
hands in a rapture of delight; for she found her- cles, and tumbled down a great many times.


Then, too, she found it rather trying to her
nerves, at first, to meet with rabbits as big as
horses, to come suddenly upon quails whis-
tling like steam-en-
gine j ii .: t ,
chati,-,' 1 r .:, 'h i'
by silirl I'. i .
a he..:l i '
ler i!,,, Ii h .


she herself was; but she was a very wise little
child about such matters, and she said to herself,
" Why, of course they 're only their usual sizes,
you know, and they 're sure to be the same scary
things they always are,"--and then she stamped
her foot at them and said "Shoo! very boldly,
and, after laughing to see the great creatures
whisk about and dash into the thicket, she
walked along quite contentedly.
Presently she heard a voice singing. It
seemed to come from a thick part of the wood
at one side of the path; and, after hesitating a
moment, Dorothy stole into the bushes, and,
creeping cautiously along until she was quite
near the sound, crouched down in the thicket
to listen.
It was a very small voice, and it was singing
this song:

I know a way
Of hearing what the larks and linnets say.
The larks tell of the sunshine and the sky;
The linnets from the hedges make reply,
And boast of hidden nests with mocking lay.

I know a way
Of keeping near the rabbits at their play.
They tell me of the cool and shady nooks
Where waterfalls disturb the placid brooks
I..~.- i .. ,I go and frolic in the spray.

', I know a way
-"- ('f catching dewdrops on a night
A ,in May,
.. And threading them upon
a spear of green,
,- ', "'' That through their sides
P, T "translucentmay be seen
The sparkling hue thatemer-
alds display.
I. I know a way
I Of rapping sunbeams as they
nimbly play
SAt hide-and-seek with
meadow-grass and
-. flowers,
And holding them in store
for dreary hours
When winds are chill and
AN SHE HERSELF WAS." all the sky is gray.

I know a way
Of stealing fragrance from the new-mown hay
And storing it in flasks of petals made,
To scent the air when all the flowers fade
And leave the woodland world to sad decay.

I know a way
Of coaxing snowflakes in their flight to stay
So still awhile that as they hang in air
I weave them into frosty lace, to wear
About my head upon a sultry day.

Dorothy, crouching down in the thicket,
listened to this little song with great delight;
but she was extremely sentimental where poetry
was concerned, and it happened that when she
heard this last verse she clasped her hands in a
burst of rapture and exclaimed in quite a loud
voice," Oh, delicious!" This was very unfortu-
nate, for the song stopped short the instant she
spoke, and for a moment everything was per-
fectly silent; then the little voice spoke up
again, and said, Who is that?"
It 's I," said Dorothy.



It 's two eyes, if it comes to that," said the
little voice; I can see them through the bushes.
Are you a rabbit ? "
No," said Dorothy, laughing softly to her-
self; I 'm a child."
Oh !" exclaimed the voice. It was a very
little Oh; in fact, it sounded to Dorothy as if it
might be about the size of a cherry-stone, and
she said to herself, I verily believe it's a fairy,
and she certainly can't be a bit bigger than my
thumb-my regular thumb, I mean," she added,
holding up her hand and looking at the size of
it with great contempt.
Then the little voice spoke up again and
said, "And how big are you ? "
I 'm about three inches tall," said Dorothy;
and she was so excited by this time that she
felt as if a lot of flies were running up and down
on the back of her neck.
Dear me!" exclaimed the little voice, ex-
pressing great astonishment in its small way.
" Why, there 's hardly enough of you to put in
a corner."
Dorothy reflected for a moment and then
called out, But, you know, that depends
on the size of the comer."
"Oh, no, it does n't!" said the 1irrl I
voice, very confidently. "All conr r'
are the same size if you only ge
close enough to 'em."
Dear me! said Dorothy to '.'
herself. "How very intelligent ''
she is! I must have a look at '
her "; and, pushing the leaves
gently aside, she cautiously
peeped out.
It was a charming little dell,
carpeted with fine moss, and with 'i
strange-looking wild flowers '
growing about the sides of it;
but to Dorothy's astonishment tl:- ,
fairy proved to be an extremely smr :11
field-mouse, sitting up like a littl. ii
pug-dog and gazing attentivel) .:,( rl, 1
thicket: "and I think"-the Mouse went
on, as if it were tired of waiting for an answer
to its last remark-"Ithink a child should be
six inches tall, at least."
This was so ridiculous that Dorothy had to
put her hand over her mouth to keep from

screaming with laughter. Why," she ex-
claimed," I used to be"-and here she had to
stop and count up on her fingers-" I used to
be eight times as big as that, myself."
"Tut, tut! said the Mouse, and the tuts"
sounded like little beads dropping into a pill-
box -" tut, tut! Don't tell me such rubbish "
"Oh, you need n't tut me," said Dorothy.
" It 's the exact truth."
Then I don't understand it," said the
Mouse, shaking its head in a puzzled way. "I
always thought children grew the other way."
Well, you see," said Dorothy, in her old-
fashioned way,--"you see, I 've been very much
reduced." (She thought afterward that this
sounded rather as if she had lost all her prop-
erty, but it was the only thing she could think
of to say at the time.)
"I don't see it at all," said the Mouse fret-
fully, "and what 's more, I don't see you; in
fact, I don't think you ought to be hiding in
the bushes and chattering at me in this way."
This seemed to Dorothy to be a very per-
sonal remark, and she answered rather indig-

'i :, rirly, -- ,,i .. h, i nor, I -l,...uld like
.4t to know ?"
S Because,-" said the Mouse in
a very superior manner,-" because little chil-
dren should be seen and not heard."
"Hoity-toity!" said Dorothy very sharply.
(I don't think she had the slightest idea of what




this meant, but she had read somewhere in a
book that it was an expression used when other
people gave themselves airs, and she thought
she would try the effect of it on the Mouse.)
But, to her great disappoint-
ment, the M.-.I.- II.ii -: ,, y
no reply of au!ii, I i'
and after picl.iin /

S. ..

I I' I' '

leaf and hold-
ing it up to it '
eyes for a mo- THE MOUSE LAMENTS.
ment, as if it were having a cry in its small way,
the poor little creature turned about and ran
into the thicket at the further side of the dell.
Dorothy was greatly distressed at
this, and, jumping out of the bushes into
the dell, she began calling, Mousie!
Mousie! Come back! I did n't mean
it, dear. It was only an experiment." .
But there was no answer, and, stooping
down at the place where the Mouse
had disappeared, she looked into the
There was nothing there but a very
small squirrel eating a nut; and, after
staring at her for a moment in great
astonishment, he threw the nut in her
face and scampered off, and Dorothy
walked mournfully away through the

THE wood was n't nearly so pleas-
ant now as it had been before, and
Dorothy was quite pleased when, after
walking a little way, she came in sight
again of the bank covered with rock-
ing-chairs. Running up the bank, she hurried
through the little door into the toy-shop.
Everything was just as she had left it, and


as she walked along on the shelf, she presently
came to the grocer's shop and found the Cara-
van sitting in a row on a little bench at the
door. The Admiral had the Camel in his lap,
and they were all gazing at it
with an air of extreme solicitude.
,Illijr It was a frowsy little thing with
,, lumpy legs that hung down in a
dangling way from the Admiral's
S knees, and Sir Walter was trying
,'U,,1 to make it drink something out
i i of a bottle.
SI. "What are you giving him? "
S' inquired Dorothy, curiously.
/ "Glue," said the Admiral
S / promptly. "He needs stiffening
I $ up, you see."
What an awful dose said
-,- Dorothy with a shudder.
"ihlat does n't make any dif-
ference to long as he won't take it," said Sir
Walter; and here he began beating the Camel so
furiously with the bottle that Dorothy cried out,


Here-stop that instantly! "
He does n't mind it no more than if he was
a bolster," put in the Highlander. Set him


up again and let's see him fall down," he added,
rubbing his hands together with a relish.
"Indeed, you '11 do nothing of the sort,"
exclaimed Dorothy with great indignation; and,
snatching the Camel from the Admiral's lap, she
carried him into the grocer's shop and set him
down upon the floor. The Camel looked
about for a moment, and then climbed into one
of the drawers that was standing open, and
pulled it to after him as a person might close a
door, and Dorothy, after watching this remark-
able performance with great wonderment, went
out again.
The Caravan had lost no time, and were
putting up a little sign on the front of the shop
with CAMEL FOR SALE on it, and Dorothy,
trying not to laugh, said, Is this your shop ? "
Yes," replied the Admiral, with an impor-
tant air. The grocer 's been sold for a cook
because he had an apron on, and we 've taken
the business."
What are you going to keep?" asked Dor-
"Why, we 're going to keep the shop," said
the Admiral, staring at her in great surprise.
But you must keep things to sell," said
How can we keep things if we sell 'em? "
inquired Sir Walter.
"Well, you can't sell anything unless you
keep it in the shop, you know," persisted Dor-
othy, feeling that she was somehow getting the
worst of the argument.
Bosh! said the Admiral, obstinately,
You can't keep things you sell-that is," he
added, "not unless your customers are crazy";
and with this remark the Caravan went into
the shop and shut the door in Dorothy's face,
as if she was n't worth talking to any longer.
Dorothy waited for a moment to see if they
were coming out again, and then, as there was
a noise inside as if they were piling up the
drawers against the door, she walked slowly
away through the toy-shop.
She had had such a variety of adventures
in the shop by this time that she was getting
quite tired of the place, and she was walking
along rather disconsolately, and wishing there
was some way of growing to her natural size,
and then getting back again to poor old Uncle

Porticle and the Blue Admiral Inn, when, as
she went around the corner of the little apothe-
cary's shop, she came suddenly upon Bob Scar-
let. To her great surprise, he was now just
about the size of an ordinary robin, but he had
on his red waistcoat and had quite as impor-
tant an air as ever, and he was strolling about
examining the various toys, and putting down
the price of everything in a little red book.
Now, I wonder how he ever got to be that
size," thought Dorothy, as she hid behind a lit-
tle pile of lead-pencils and watched him over
the top of them. I suppose he's eaten some-
thing, or drunk something, to make him grow,
the way they do in fairy stories; because the
Admiral certainly said he was n't any bigger
than an ant. And, oh! I wish I knew what it
was," she added mournfully, as the tears came
into her eyes. I wish I knew what it was "
If I was n't a little afraid of him," she
went on, after she had had a little cry, I 'd
ask him. But likely as not he 'd peck at me
-old peckjabber!" and here she laughed
through her tears as she thought of the Cara-
van in their little sunbonnets. Or p'r'aps
he 'd snap me up I 've often heard of snap-
ping people up when they asked too many
questions, but seems to me it never meant any-
thing so awful as that, before"; and she was
rambling on in this way, laughing and crying


by turns, when at this moment Bob Scarlet
came suddenly upon a fine brass bird-cage, and,
after staring at it in a stupefied way for a mo-




meant, he dropped his little book, with an ap-
pearance of great agitation, and hurried away
without so much as looking behind him.
Dorothy ran after him, carefully keeping out
of sight in case he should turn around, and as
she went by the bird-cage she saw that it was
marked PERFECTLY SECURE in large letters.
"And that 's what took the conceit out of you,
mister," she said, laughing to herself, and hur-
ried along after the Robin.
As she caught sight of him again he was just
hurrying by the grocer's shop, and she could
see the faces of the Caravan watching him, over
the top of a little half-blind in the window, with
an expression of the greatest concern, and the
next moment a door at the back of the shop
opened and they all rushed out. They had on
their sunbonnets and shawls, and Dorothy saw
that the Admiral was carrying the Camel under
his arm; but before she could say a word to them
they had scampered away and were out of sight.
By this time the toy-shop itself was all in a
commotion. Dolls were climbing down from
the shelves and falling over each other; the big
marbles had in some way got out of the basket
and were rolling about in all directions; and, to
make matters worse, quite a little army of tin
soldiers suddenly appeared, running confusedly
about, many with the drawers from the little
grocer's shop upside down on their heads, and

all calling Fire at the top of their voices.
As they could n't see where anybody was going
or where they were going themselves, it made
the situation very desperate indeed.
Dorothy was frightened almost out of her

I ,, ,

-v i
$ uZ'' '.j '!,

wits, but she ran on in a bewildered sort of a
way, dodging the rolling marbles and upsetting
the dolls and the soldiers in great numbers,
until she fortunately caught sight of the little
rat-hole. Rushing through it, she hurried down
the bank and ran off into the wood as fast as
she could go.

(To be continued.)

VOL. XIX.- 25.





,AR away, in a southerly
Part of the southern
S hemisphere, are a num-
ber of rocky, barren isl-
ands seldom visited by
man. Now and then a
S ship cruising in quest
of seals or whales
touches at one, but
they are so dreary that nobody cares to stay
long or to become acquainted with the in-
For these lonely islands are inhabited, and
those who live there like the place so well that
no inducement you could offer would make them
leave it,-not of their own free will.
The dwellers are no vulgar upstarts, either,
for their family can be traced back for I don't
know how long,- certainly for thousands of
years. The Professor tells me that huge fossil
bones, from the "upper eocene" have been
found there, and that the skeletons of which
these bones were a part must have been as tall
as the tallest man you can see to-day.
The inhabitants of which I am telling you,
however, are not men, but huge birds called
penguins. They are not very unlike the auk,
which found the arctic circle as delightful and
homelike a place to live in as the penguin finds
the antarctic. But the auk is nearly if not
quite extinct, for it has been hunted industri-
ously many years; and now, whenever eggs or
bones, or even skins, are offered for sale they
are eagerly bought by museums, at high prices.
A single auk-skin was bought some years ago
for $625, and presented as a valuable addition
to a New York museum.
Naturalists divide penguins into three classes:
the king penguin, so called because it is the
largest and strongest; the "jackass" penguin,
because when disturbed it makes a sound like
a bray; and the "rock-hopper," which receives

this name because, when it is on shore, instead
of waddling, it places its big feet close together
and hops from rock to rock.
It is the "jackass" penguin that is shown in
the first picture. Their queer webbed feet, you
will notice, are planted squarely on the ground
plantigradede," the Professor calls them), and
at first glance you would predict that they
would be capital runners. But although their
feet are so big, their legs are very short indeed,
and when they are attacked and must run
away, they resort to a desperate device. They
use their stiff, muscular little wings as fore legs.
In this way they get over the ground rapidly,
though they must look funny enough stum-
bling and tumbling along in this fashion. One
writer who has carefully watched their queer
antics says:
No living thing that I ever saw expresses so
graphically a state of hurry as a penguin, when
trying to escape. Its neck is stretched out,
flippers whirring like the sails of a windmill, and
body wagging from side to side, as its short legs
make stumbling and frantic efforts to get over
the ground. There is such an expression of
anxiety written all over the bird; it picks itself
up from every fall, and stumbles again with such
an air of having an armful of bundles, that it
escapes capture quite as often by the laughter
of the pursuer as by its own really considerable
The penguin is a very large bird. Standing
upright, it would reach nearly to a man's waist.
You can form some idea of the long strides it
makes when I tell you that some painstaking
naturalists measured the distance between the
impressions made by one of the stiff, leathery
wings, and found that they were three quarters
of a yard apart. These same paddle-shaped
wings are of great service in the water, for they
are brought into use alternately, together acting
like a screw-propeller in a steamer, and ena-


bling the bird to swim very swiftly. The pen-
guins love the noisy surf and the boisterous
ocean, but sometimes, during a very hard storm,
they will seek a temporary refuge from the
tumult by diving down into the water to a
depth that no tempest can disturb.
Penguins spend a few months in every year
on the rocky islands where their eggs are laid,

a layer of grass and of leaves of the Pringlea-
a coarse, cabbage-like plant-is spread over
the stones.
In October they visit the rocky shores in
great numbers, and soon after they begin to
build their nests. During the process they are
nearly as polite to each other as a lot of quar-
relsome children would be while measuring off


and here the young birds are reared. The a number of tennis-courts. They steal the best

nests are on the ground, which is sometimes
hollowed out a little by the birds, though fre-
quently a sheltered nook by a rock is selected.
The nests being so shallow, the birds have
had to use their reasoning faculties in order
to preserve their eggs. If the eggs were laid
upon the ground, the rain would spoil them;
so, centuries ago, a really bright idea came to
certain of the cleverer fowls, which commended
itself to every bird who learned of it. This was
to cover the hollow first with a layer of stones
and shells which would support the eggs above
the reach of water; and, to make a soft bed,

places if the possessors happen to be absent, and
when the rightful owners return there is likely
to be serious trouble.
When man, by any chance, takes up his
abode near a colony of penguins, they are quick
to learn caution. Instead of making their nests
on the open ground they excavate burrows, and
in these the eggs are hatched.
Two large, pear-shaped eggs are laid in each
nest, and for six weeks the parents take turns
in sitting on them. When an adventurous egg-
hunter pushes a bird from the nest, its first
thought is to run away-which it does. But




remembering the eggs, and feeling, I dare say,
as uncomfortable as a human being who has
thought of a neglected duty, it soon comes wad-
dling back, and jumps, both feet at once, into
the now empty nest. It gazes about stupidly
for a while, and when it realizes its loss, breaks
forth into so doleful and discordant a wail--
such a "tale of woe," in bird language-that
the pity which a kind-hearted person ought to
feel at this stage of the proceeding is overcome
by uncontrollable laughter.
The nests are quite regularly placed, and the
penguins themselves are very methodical. They
live in colonies numbering from a dozen to a
hundred and fifty families. We are told that,
on Macquarie Island, a small island southeast
of Australia, a certain penguin rookery covered
forty acres of ground, and as many as thirty
thousand penguins would land during one day,
and an equal number would go to sea.
When on shore they are as orderly and com-
pact as files of soldiers. Many will take a long
swim in the morning in search of the fish on
which they live, and at about the same hour
every afternoon they land and compose them-

selves for a nap. Some put their heads behind
their flippers, and others draw their heads
closer and closer to their bodies-their bills
pointing straight up into the air-till one
would imagine they had no more neck than a
codfish. There they sit, winking and blinking
at the sun with watery eyes, and looking as
grave and sedate as amateur actors in a farce.
The penguins are not what you would call
either graceful or dainty, and do not resemble
the beautiful sea-gulls that circle in numbers
about our coastwise steamers. They have not
the light step of the sandpiper, to which Lowell
alluded when he humorously wrote:
I 've a notion, I think, of a good dinner speech,
Tripping light as a sandpiper over the beach.

And as to the vocal powers of this strange bird,
the less said about them the better. But we
may admit this much: though the penguin is
not a bird of beautiful flight, step, or song, it is
a strong and graceful swimmer, and admirably
adapted to its surroundings in the cold and
bleak islands of the southern oceans, where a less
hardy bird would surely perish.





THE wooden ruler does not live
With the toys upon the shelves,
But yet he often comes to see
How they behave themselves.
Knock! knock! along the cupboard shelf
He marches, stiff and bright;
The playthings that are bent and scratched
Are in a dreadful fright.
"Oh dear," the toy-horse whispers,
I scarce can stand at all.
I hope he will not notice
I 'm propped against the wall."

The animals from Noah's Ark
Are marshaled, two by two.
The dolls smooth out their frocks and try
To look quite fresh and new.
There is no scratch he does not see,
No dent he does not spy.
The toys scarce dare to stir until
The ruler has passed by.
But ah, the poor unlucky cat
Who 'd lost its tail !-he said
The ash-heap was the place for it,
And rapped it on the head.
But to the old tin sheep on wheels
Most graciously he bends;
Long, long ago, when both were new,
They were the best of friends.
And, when he's passed,the old sheep creaks
And chuckles to itself,
To see with what a pompous air
He stalks across the shelf.
But all the other little toys,
Even the swords and drums,
Are scared till they can hardly stand
The day the ruler comes.




WHAT is Marcia reading? She is reading a
fairy story. But she thinks of other things, too.
Here is what she reads, and what her reading
calls to mind: The Princess who lived in the
Emerald Grotto heard the Wizard's knock, and

went to the door." (Dear me! that reminds
me that I left the pantry door open when I
went to get that gingerbread. Suppose the
kitten should get at the milk again! Oh,
well !-I don't believe she will.) She opened



the door with the key of gold and glass, and
there stood the Wizard holding the three bags
in his hand." (I promised to finish that bag
for the children's fair to-morrow, but I can do
it this evening, I think.) The Wizard bowed,
and said, 'Princess, can you guess what is in
these three bags? If you can, the. King of
Diamonds will take you for his wife. If not,
your head must be cut off with the saber of sil-
ver.'" (Silver? Oh, dear! Mama asked me to
rub the silver for her this morning, and I meant
to do it right after breakfast. I '11 do it before
dinner, surely.) "The Princess replied, Well
can I guess what is in the three bags, Wizard.
The first is of samite, and is filled with dust of
pearls and sand of sapphires. The second is of
hempen cloth, and contains-'" (Cloth? Oh,
dear! I did n't take that piece of cloth to
Miss Snipper, and she cannot finish my new
dress without it. I suppose I ought to go up

there now. Well, I will,-in just a minute)
"'-contains snake-skins and sardonyx. The
third bag, Wizard, contains nothing at this mo-
ment, but it shall be filled at once.' So say-
ing, she drew the saber of silver, and cut off
the Wizard's ugly head, and popped it into the
bag. No sooner had she done this than a loud
crash was heard. A bell rang, and-"
"Ding-a-ling-ling-ling!" goes the dinner-bell.
"Come to dinner, dear children! "says Mama's
voice on the stairs. No, Bobby; no ice-cream
to-day, for some one left the pantry door open,
and the kitten knocked over the cream-can and
spilled every drop. Where is our Marcia? Oh,
I remember; she had to go to the dressmaker's,
and that will make her late. We will not wait.
Come, little ones!"
The sweet voice passed on. How do you
think Marcia feels at this moment? ButI don't
suppose any of you can possibly imagine.

Walks fort' in all her pride
Jfended by her dog and
Who never leave.her side,
for by a telter
sTrong and fine
The little dog is tied,0,
Afnd 'Pu55 folowin ,
foolish thing,
Runs close behind
to catch l 'e string
Whose '
odher end holds Td-0 !

IC r _



A GOOD breezy March welcome to you, my
friends-one and all! And now let us proceed
to business.
In the first place, what of the answers to Helen
M.'s question given to you last November?
Does this earth, when looked at from another
planet, seem to be above or below it? And why ?
Well, out of very many answers, verbal and
written, right and wrong, possible and impossible,
the best -in the opinion of the dear Little School-
ma'am -are those sent by Alice D. C. of Rhode
Island, William S. T. of Massachusetts, and Z.
M. F. of Tennessee and Margaret S. T. of Kent,
And these four agree that, for obvious reasons,
this earth would seem, to gazers belonging to that
other planet, to be above and not below them. In
other words, they would look up into their sky and
see the earth as we now see the planets.
Now, as I cannot consume the time of this con-
gregation by giving "obvious reasons," we may
as well take the matter for granted, quite satisfied
that we are being properly looked up to by all
well ordered planets. As for
my children have positively settled the fact that
it cannot be done by any man alive! They have
calculated the thing out most carefully, and, figura-
tively speaking, young voices are shouting to me
across the ocean and from every part of this coun-
try: "No, Sir. It cannot be done!" Perhaps I
shall show you some of the letters next month.
Meantime we may be sure that the Deacon was
right when he told us that the man does not live
who can count an English billion.
HERE is a little tale in verse, by your friend
Dorothy Chester, telling about a girl whose "ner-
vousness was a matter of temper. The lines are
well worth reading, for they describe a novel and

THERE was once a girl in Dixie, so quarrelsome
and tricksy,
If she could not rule the other girls she 'd say she
would n't play!
And her mother sighed, "My Julia is so nervous
and peculiar
That how I 'm e'er to govern her is more than I
can say."
But a funny little woman (who was more or less
than human)
Saw that wilful little maiden once break up a merry
And she took her and she shook her, till the "ner-
vousness forsook her
And that sad "peculiarity was shaken quite away 1
CHILDREN, have you ever seen a pet sea-gull?
Well, they are the dearest little pets you ever saw.
At least, so says a friend who signs her letter A. E.
"The one I had," she writes, "was snow-white
with little pink web-feet and jet-black bill; how
lovely it looked swimming!
"But what to give it to eat I did not know, until
my little nephew said, 'Why, Aunt Amy, he must
have fish, and I will catch them for him.' So every.
morning he would take his crab-net down to the
beach, and bring home a number of little fish for Mr.
Gull's breakfast. I wish you could haveseen him.
when he caught sight of his pan with the fish; he
knew just as well what was in that pan as I did. He
would half run, half fly into it; then would swim
around and pretend to be dressing his feathers at and
making himself look beautiful; all this time he was.
watching out of one eye his breakfast swimming
around the bottom of the pan; every minute he
would dive like lightning, and bring up in his bill a
poor little fish which he would swallow whole, and
then dive for another. On some days he would take
ten or twelve for his breakfast and as many more
for his dinner and supper. He would play with any-
thing he could find that would play with him. He
was particularly fond of a small kitten we had. You
could hear those little web-feet go pitter-patter all
over the room after pussy. Now and then puss
would turn and with her paw give Mr. Gull a
whack on the back, and then the gull would give
pussy's tail a tweak. They would play in this way
for hours without hurting each other.
We had a number of other pets, but the gull
liked pussy best of all."
THAT was indeed a very uncommon pet, my
friends, and a very beautiful one.
Now let us consider another sort of pets, de-
scribed for this Pulpit by Mr. Benjamin C. Atlee
of Pennsylvania. These may properly be called
PROUD of the ownership of some living thing,
how our hearts throb with joy when our first pet
is intrusted to our care i
We all have heard of the kind-hearted old lady
- ah, how her eyes must have twinkled with satis-
faction !- who left her pet cat a goodly income by



will, that Tabby's last years might be soft and easy,
even though her mistress was not there to provide.
But here is a stranger bequest yet: Professor
Watson, the eminent astronomer, discovered a
"family" of twenty-two asteroids (small planets);
they were the companions of many a lonely night
spent in gazing beyond and above the sleeping earth
into the liquid depths of the starry sky.
So in his will he leaves a trust fund to the Amer-
ican National Academy of Sciences for the watching
and taking care of his children. They have indeed
long since come of age, perhaps in centuries; but
the kind heart of their discoverer has made provi-
sion for his far-distant children, that their
paths may be watched, and their comings and
goings noted.
DEAR JACK: Some animals form queer partner-
ships. Here, for instance, is the hermit-crab, which
so often is found with a sea-anemone on his back.
Although this may seem very ornamental, the her-
mit does not carry the brilliant flower for its beauty,
but for the protection it affords him. Gurnards and
other sea-fish are very fond of hermit-crabs, but they
do not like sea-anemones at all; in fact, they would
rather go hungry than dine on hermit seasoned with
sea-anemone. Now, all wise hermit-crabs know of
this, and, fearing they may meet some of their hungry
foes, take care to provide themselves, if possible,
with one of these friendly anemones.
A famous English naturalist wished to see what the
crab would do if the anemone were removed, and by an
ingenious contrivance managed to separate them. The
hermit strongly
objected to this
separation, and,
to the natural-
ist's great sur-
prise, took the -
anemone up in ..
his claws and
held it close to J, l' ,
his stolen shell
for about ten
minutes, when
it was as firmly -
fixed there as
before. Again -
and again the
anemone was -
displaced, and
as many times it
was recovered
and put in place
by the crab.
Of course you
know that the
hermit has no
shell of his own,
as other crabs
have, but takes
the shell of a
snail or some
other mollusk
to live in.' For
various reasons,
generally on ac-
count of his
growth, the her-
mit is often .
forced to move ..
into new quar-
ters; and it has HER

been suggested that perhaps he carries his anemone with
him to transfer to his new home.
Little hermit-crabs do not fare so well as their big
brothers, for they are obliged to live in shells too small
for the anemone; consequently great numbers of little
hermits, houses and all, are swallowed by the ravenous
fishes. It is only when they become big enough to live
in a fine large house that the crabs are enabled to carry
the friendly sea-flower.
There is one species of crab which carries two anem-
ones, one in each claw. Still another species is al-
ways found in shells covered with a brilliantly colored
sponge; and as fishes do not like sponges any better than
sea-anemones, these crabs are admirably protected.


_-;5~------ ----~~



--;--~--~- ----I~cls-



STHERE is a great deal
more to a beetle than
one would think at first
blush. He is n't very
handsome, but he has
a majestic air of at-
tending strictly to his
own affairs that cer-
tainly commands re-
spect. And then he's
S such a very old insect.
Of course, all insects
NATURAL SIZE. are old, when you
think of it,-but you don't think of it.
To the ancient Egyptians the beetle called
the Scarabaeus was sacred, and they actually
embalmed the bodies of those that died They
made charms out of emeralds and other stones
cut in the form of beetles, and put their names
and their kings' names upon
them. These were supposed to
ward off evil spirits, being worn
on bracelets, and on necklaces,
and buried with their owners.
Here is a "scarab" which was
recently found buried with the
mummy of an Egyptian who
died probably hundreds of
years before Moses was born. SCARAB.
One of the reasons why the Scarabeus was
sacred to the Egyptians was because the round
balls in which its eggs were deposited were
symbols of the world and of its being rolled from
sunrise to sunset; and the beetle also was con-
sidered sacred to the sun because of the points
on its head which suggested rays.
Here is a picture of two modern tumble-
bugs," as we call them, rolling along their ball.
By and by it will tumble into a hole, and in
course of time the egg within will hatch out, and
the little beetle will feed on the dirt of the

ball,--that is, if nobody happens to step into
that hole before all this comes to pass.
The "burying-beetle," or "sexton-beetle,"
which was recently described in ST. NICHOLAS,
makes it his business to bury dead moles, and
mice, and birds,- not altogether out of the good-


ness of his heart, but because he thinks there 's
nothing like a dead bird to put eggs into if you
intend them to come to anything.
This way beetles have of burying their eggs
makes people think that one of the reasons the
Egyptians used to consider them sacred was
because they typified resurrection--the egg


buried in dirt or in a dead body finally break-
ing forth into life.
And these are only two kinds of beetles out of
a great many hundred.

* The illustrations are from "The Century Dictionary."


JRfrom 1he Szidden, lime Joe~
One, da in TERRUA~~
Cbme wiih kis eyes arnd c eeks aglow
oz And ran. To O .
Chh e oaon" he. cried"love snow.
they eat it just as fast! and so
ve brouqkt some in my pail ,you know,
T~orUT ou '



IN Ensign Ellicott's interesting sketch, From Ship
to Shore," which opens this number, our boy readers
may learn how skilful sailors make a landing through
rough water. Those who mean to remember the direc-
tions for a time of need, will be glad to know where fur-
ther knowledge may be found. The author writes:
For an able and thorough professional discussion of
this subject, see Notes on the Management of Boats in
the Surf,' by Ensign A. A. Ackerman, United States
Navy, in the 'Proceedings of the United States Naval
Institute ,' Vol. XV., No. 2. There is also an article by
the same author in Vol. XVI., No. 3, of the same publi-
cation, entitled Navy Boats.'"

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am fourteen years old and live
on a very large ranch about twenty-five miles from Los
Angeles. I have taken the ST. NICK about five years, but
do not subscribe for it because the mail is not delivered
here; so I buy it when I go to Los Angeles every month.
There are a great many little rivers and brooks here, and
in the winter they rise and form large swamps, in which
duck, snipe and other water-fowl are common. We have
horses, cattle, and ponies on our ranch.
In the summer I can ride all over, but in the winter
it is too wet; you know that we have the rainy and dry
seasons out here. We have two or three thousand sheep
on the ranch, and have fifty-seven collies. They are very
pretty dogs, but they stay in the corrals and never come
near the house. My own dogs are "Nero," "Hector,"
" Bruce," "Heather," and "Vic "; the first three being
St. Bernards and the other two Newfoundlands. I also
have seven greyhounds and two foxhounds. In the sum-
mer I have a great deal of fun chasing rabbits. When I
go hunting in the winter I use two pointers and a setter
of my father's. I have a tutor, and he is calling me now,
so I must go. I hope very much you will publish my
letter; I get lonesome out here, and I take off a good
deal of solitude with the ST. NICK. I will look for my
letter next number.
Yours truly, DAN McF- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: It is raining very hard here
to-day, and I cannot go out, so I will write to you about
my experience at the fishing-banks.
One bright morning I started out to go to the fishing-
banks. We boarded the boat and had a good seat in front.
That day luck was against us; I was very seasick, but not
the only one, and we caught only a few fish. One man
that was there you might call a crank, for he threw his
pole, lines, and basket overboard because he did not catch
any fish.
In the afternoon I went into the cabin and lay down.
After a while I felt better, and I went out on deck. One
man had caught a codfish about one yard long and thicker
than a man's arm; another caught one about a foot and
a half long.
I saw a lot of small crabs crawling around on deck. I
saw a bag from which they had made a hole. I told a

man, and he had a lot of trouble catching them; for as he
went to grab one it would jump in the water, and he al-
most went after it. Many boys were playing games in the
cabin, so I joined them. After getting tired of playing, I
went out and began to fish, but without luck.
We landed and went home. I was very pale, and when
my mother saw me she said she thought it was the first
and last time I would ever go to the fishing-banks.
Another time my father went alone and caught a seven-
pound sea-bass, and about a dozen other one-pound ones.
My father takes me to Prince's Bay very often.
Our whole family are very anxious for the 26th to come,
for that is the day we get your lovely paper. I go to a
German school, and I learn English there too.
Your constant reader and friend,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I am nearly nine, and you were
one of my Christmas presents. I learned telegraphy
when I was only seven years old, as we had a private in-
strument. I learned quicker and better than mother,
though I think she is very clever. I love to work with
my hands and head too. I cut wood, make a garden, and
raise chickens. I have a rooster named Prince who
knows his name. I have read lives of the Presidents,
and like geography and history. I raised peanuts last
year. Your friend,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am very fond of reading the
LETTER-BOX, so I thought I would write to it. I am
thirteen years old, and I am a farmer's daughter. I have
two brothers and two sisters.
I live among the Adirondack Mountains. I have been
ill with rheumatism for three years, and enjoy you very
much. I wish you came oftener. I do not take you, but
a lady in Boston sends you to me. I will close with best
wishes for dear old ST. NICK,
From one of his loving readers,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Perhaps you remember that
you had in one of your late numbers the picture of a
horse named "Linus," with a very long tail and mane.
Well, the other day, as I was coming home from school,
I saw a bill pasted up on a fence, and on it was written,
"Linus, the famous long-tailed horse, will be on exhibi-
tion next week, commencing Monday, the 23d." I was
perfectly delighted at having a chance to see one of my
" ST. NICHOLAS friends." So I went, and he did not dis-
appoint me, I assure you. I am an American, but am
living in Canada for a time. Perhaps you will get a let-
ter from Rochester (New York) during the winter, be-
cause I am going to school there. I have been taking
you for a year, and intend to take you this year too.
I am exceedingly interested in your new story, "Tom
Paulding," and hope it will be very long.
I know my letter is not good, but I wanted verymuch
to tell you that I had seen Linus.
I remain your devoted reader,


DEAR ST. NICHOLAS.: We are two girls whose fathers
are officers in the navy and are stationed here at present.
This is the place where old disabled sailors, who have
served twenty years in the United States Navy, come and
are taken care of. There are about two hundred benefi-
ciaries and about twenty-five marines here.
One of us has been here but five months, the other has
been here over three years.
We have a great deal of fun roller-skating in an empty
ward in the hospital. In the summer we play lawn-tennis.
One of us has a little silver Skye terrier dog named
"Joe," or, as the men here sometimes call him, "Jack."
He comes to either name.
We both go to the same private school. Our class
colors are olive and white, which we think is a very pretty
We are very much interested in all the letters from
your many readers, especially those from the children of
naval officers.
We were also much interested in the article in the De-
cember number of your magazine, entitled Honors to
the Flag," but we think the author made a mistake in the
music on page 14o. One of us has lived at the United
States Training Station, Newport, R. I., and she thinks
that the fourth note, E, has been left out by mistake.
She has heard "Evening Colors many times, but when
she tried the music in ST. NICHOLAS she found it different
in that one respect. She also compared it with a number
of printed bugle-calls she obtained while her father com-
manded the "Tennessee," and it lacked that one note.
We are your constant readers,

(The music is correct as printed. See page 198, In-
structions for Infantry and Artillery,United States Navy,"
1891. Many buglers, however, make errors in blowing
this-and other calls. I have heard this

blown as the beginning of" Evening Colors." I think that
must be what the little ladies mean the E being the
third note. The bugler who blows it so is wrong.
Author of Honors to the Flag.")

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Papa says we live on the border
of a wilderness that extends to Hudson's Bay. From
our sitting-room window we look upon the Jacques-Car-
tier River, andup the valley, to the north,mountains tower
above mountains as far as the eye can reach. They are
full of bears and caribou. This fall a bear swam the
river just below our house, and caribou often come into
the fields to feed. The caribou are the same as the Lap-
land reindeer. We live near an Indian village called
Lorette, and we often go there for moccasins and snow-
shoes. It is very cold here, and sometimes the snow is
five and six feet deep, so that we have to wear snow-shoes
to get about; they help to keep you from sinking. For
pets we have a dog,- he is a spaniel,-a canary, and we
had a pony, but we sold him. He was a little Norwe-
gian fellow. We had a fox, too, but one day he got
away, chain and all, and when we found him he was
dead. I study arithmetic, spelling, grammar, geography,
French, and I am learningto play the piano. The other
day I had a sleigh-ride of twenty-one miles with my

TER-BOX. 397

grandpa and great-grandpa. I have no playmates here,
so I am always anxiousto get ST. NICHOLAS. A month
seems a long time to wait. I am eleven years old.
Good-by. FRANCES I. F-- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am one of your readers, and
send you this little article, which I hope to see in print.
It is an experiment with a family cat. Take pussy on your
lap, stroke her back, and at the same time put your hand
to the tip of her ear. It will give you an electric shock.
Another way is to stroke her back, and hold the end of
her tail between the thumb and forefinger. It too gives
a shock. The whiskers also act as a conductor.
If the experiment is tried in the dark, sparks may be
seen. I hope others will try this experiment and report,
for I want to know if all cats are as wonderful as mine.
She is eight years old, and a great pet.
P. S. My cat's name is Dorothy Dean," but we call
her Dora, for short.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We are two English girls, liv-
ing at Norwich, an ancient city in the east of England.
Besides its castle, originally built by the Romans, Nor-
wich possesses a beautiful cathedral, any number of queer
old churches and some new ones, andan extremely curious
gild-hall, built chiefly of flint, containing many relics and
a portrait of Nelson.
Norwich was formerly surrounded by fortified walls,
towers, and gates, but these have been ruthlessly de-
stroyed. Only here and there can be seen remains of
what, had they been left, would have attracted visitors
from all parts of the world, especially from America.
Father tells us there is also a city called Norwich in the
United States.
ST. NICHOLAS is a great favorite with us girls. We
have taken you for many years, and always look forward
to the new number with great pleasure. The best tales
we ever read were "Little Lord Fauntleroy and "The
Fortunes of Toby Trafford." Last year one of us (Merry)
learned by heart "The New Piano," by Oliver Wendell
Holmes, and earned many sixpences for saying it. This
year we are going to learn "The Crocodile" from the
December number, to say at Grandfather's children's
Christmas party. Good-by.
From your constant readers,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: My little sister and I have been
spending this lovely Indian summer at the home of
George Washington, with our father and mother.
I am a little girl seven years old, and my mother is
writing this letter for me, but I am telling her what to
say. I don't write very well yet.
I am very fond of you, ST. NICHOLAS, and love to
have stories read to me the minute you come into the
house. My mother has just been reading to me and my
little sister Afternoon Tea in the Christmas number,
and I like it so much. I wonder how Molly could know
which of her dollies to choose to go to that "tea." I
have twenty-seven dolls, and I love them all, 'specially
Dorothy. We had lovely times here, playing on the
east portico, where we can see the steamboats go up and
down the Potomac River, and feeding the deer with per-
simmons and sweet-locust beans. Every night Dick, the
old colored man, comes to the gate of the deer-park, and


calls, Who-e-e! who-e-e! and the deer- fourteen in
all come bounding up to him, and he feeds them with
corn. We go out and gather pecan-nuts from under the
tree on the lawn, and our two kittens, "Malta" and
" Maltesa," follow us and chase the gray squirrels up the
tree. When they are half-way up, they turn around and
bark at the kittens, trying to frighten them. We fish
down at the wharf, under the new pavilion that was built
last spring through the kindness of a new vice-regent.
It used to be so very warm in summer, waiting for the
boat, with no cover for our heads, but now it is shady
and cool. We love to stand on the sun-dial on the lawn
by the west front of the mansion, and watch the men dig
way down in the ground, where, my father says, they are
going to put a little house to hold the new fire-apparatus,
just brought here for the protection of the buildings.
We walk in the old garden bordered by box-bushes, which
have lived there since President Washington's time, and
on rainy days we play in the slave-quarters that were re-
built a few years ago of the old bricks.
This is a very long letter. I hope you '11 print it, for
I think some little boys and girls would love to know
what two little girls do at Mount Vernon.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little Tennessee girl
eight years and seven months old. This town is one of
the oldest in the State-used to be the capital of this
State. One of the big battles of the late war was fought
here, and nearly nine thousand soldiers are buried here.
Miss Murfree (" Charles Egbert Craddock ") lives in this
I like ST. NICHOLAS very much. A kind, good friend
in Eminence, Kentucky, sends it to me. I like the nice
letters from the boys and girls. I have three pets--a
shepherd-dog named "Dr. Kelley," and two cats named
"Sugar" and "Snowball." The first is a beautiful Mal-
tese, and the other is as black as a crow." I do not go
to school, but I study under mama at home. I spent the
summer in the country at my grandpa's. I had lots of
fun there.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I wrote to you a long time ago,
but you did not print my letter, so I suppose it was not
worth printing. I am the seventh in a family of eight.
I am nearly sixteen. Our house is situated on the north
side of the harbor, surrounded by seven acres of land.
It is very pretty about Sydney. I would tell you about
our harbor, but as we Sydney people are supposed to
boast about it, I will not. We have a steam-yacht called
" Eua," the aborigines' name for fish. We go out every
Saturday for a cruise, and four times a year we go for a
camp on the Hawkesbury River. It is fun to get oys-
ters, rowing, and to gather ferns and wild flowers, and
we are always sorry when the time comes for going home.
In the summer we all leave Sydney for the Blue Moun-
tains. This year we are going to Katoomba, such a
lovely place three thousand feet above the sea. Last

time we were there, five of us went for a twenty-mile walk.
Only six men have been to the place we went to. Most
of the way we were walking up to our knees in water,
and one of my friends slipped into a big hole. We pulled
her out looking like a drowned rat. But when we got
beneath the falls we felt quite rewarded for all the scram-
bling, etc. We did not get back to our cottage till 6.30,
and very tired we all were. My sister and I had to be
up very early next morning to pack and be ready for the
early train back to Sydney.
I have seven nephews; two are staying with us, and I
have been reading stories from your dear old magazine
all this afternoon. I am very fond of reading, and always
look forward to the end of the month for your stories.
We are all much interested in Toby Trafford." Lady
Jane is my favorite.
Your reader ever, WINIFRED H. D--.


WE should be so very happy
Had we only wealth untold;
If, within our empty coffers,
Brightly gleamed the glittering gold.

We should be so very happy
Had we but the strength of ten;
If we had King Solomon's wisdom,
Or the power of the pen.

We should be so very happy
If our griefs were far and few;
If, in moments that have vanish'd,
We had known the thing to do.

Let me tell thee, then, a secret:
If the ifs away were sent,
We should be so very happy
If we 'd learn to be content.

Stella Stern.

WE thank the young friends whose names follow for
pleasant letters received from them: Stella S., Ethel G.,
Robert M. H., Jr., Richard A. R., Margaret W. H.,
Mary E. A., Abbie M. V., Alice G. W., Grace S., Edith
M., Janette A., Flossie S., Ethel A. B., Wm. B. G.,
H. A. R., W. C. B., Mary E. M., Midgie M., Edythe
P. J., E. E. W., Paula H., "Only I," Lillian B., Thorp
H. and Reggie M., Mary T. S., Louise H., E. B., Adele
T., Nellie B., Marion I. W., Mary J. R., Katie S., Clar-
ence W. F., A. Louise T., Albert W., E. C. S., "Aunt
Kitty," Priscilla and Samuella, Edward M. D., C. E. D.,
Mary E. M., Mary H. S., G. B. M., Susie E., Emily M.,
Bessie P., Emilie A. P.,Alice B. and Lula B., Grace A. K.,
Margaret M. H., Fernley P., H. E. P., Graeme S., Julie
S. M., Annie T. F., "Fleurite," L. Adele C., Samuel
W. B., Edith B., Bonnie L. B., Ned W. R., Eleanor E.
W., May A. F., Louise and Ethel, R. M., Alice B., Bessie
L. F., Florence B., Ethel L. P., Arline A. D., Clara Edith
N., and Louise I. T.


0' 7 RHOMBOID. Across: I. Ounce. 2. Pearl.
I 3 Train." 4. Essay. 5. Eager.
2. Cut. 3. Chirp. 4. Tuition. 5. Tried. 6. Pod.
7. N. II. N. 2. Sew. 3. Stead. 4. Needful.
5. Wafer. 6. Dur(ion). 7. L. III. I. N. 2. Dew.
3. Druid. 4. Neutral. 5. Wired. 6. Dad. 7. L.
IV. r. N. 2. How. 3. Humid. 4. Nominal. 5. Windy. 6.
Day. 7. L. V. I. L. 2. Dab. 3. Dates. 4. Lateral. 5. Berry.
6. Say. 7. L.
ZIGZAG. "The Hero of the Nile." Cross-words: i. Tier. 2.
Whir. 3. Abet. 4. Hugh. 5. Even. 6. Iris. 7. Oboe. 8. Fool.
9. Heft. so. Halt. Ti. Echo. 12. Leek. 13. Node. 14. Gibe.
15. Balk. 16. Dome.
SEPARATED WORDS. Washington, patriotism. i. Wind-pipe.
2. Arm-ada. 3. Sex-tile. 4. Hat-red. 5. Ill-iterate. 6. Newt-on.
7. Glut-ton. 8. Tamp-ion. 9. Over-set. 0o. Nor-man.
A HEXAGON. I. Edda. 2. Dirge. 3. Drains. 4. Agitate. 5.
Enamel. 6. Steel. 7. Ells.

ANAGRAM. James Russell Lowell.
HALF-SQUARES. I. x. Morosis. 2. Origin. 3. Ripen. 4. Ogee.
5. Si. n. S. Pn. In.. 2. United. 3. Timon. 4.
Atom. S. Men. 6. Ed~.7- N.
ILLUSTRATED CENTRAL ACROSTIC. Centrals, Candypulls. Cross-
words: i. Laces. 2. Blade. 3. Candy. 4. Caddy. 5. Mayor. 6.
Capes. 7. Fruit. 8. Balls. 9. Bells. io. Masks.
DIAGONAL PUZZLE. Diagonals, Erminia. Cross-words: 1. Ex-
haust. 2. Organic. 3. Camelot. 4. Basilar. 5. Canonic. 6. Ca-
rotid. 7. Camelia.
WORD-SQUARES. I. I. Pole. 2. Open. 3. Lend. 4. Ends. II.
s. Blot. 2. Love. 3. Oven. 4. Tent.
DOUBLE ACRosric. Primals, William; finals, Wallace. Cross-
words: i. Willow. 2. Iguana. 3. Laurel. 4. Lentil. 5. Ittria. 6.
Aceric. 7. Myrtle.
DOUBLE SQUARES. I. I. Beset. 2. Elide. 3. Siren. 4. Edens.
5. Tense. II. L. Ochre. 2. Clean. 3. Heart. 4. Rarer. 5. Entry.
III. i. Avast. 2. Villi. 3. Alien. 4. Sleet. 5. Tints.

To OUR PUZZLERS: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the igth 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 DECEMBER NUMBER were received, before December xsth, from "Alice Mildred Blanke
and Co."- Mama and Jamie- The McG.'s "- L. O. E. Maude E. Palmer- Josephine Sherwood -" Wee 3" Cuckoo "-
Hubert L. Bingay- E. M. G. Uncle Mung" "A Family Affair" -" Leather-stocking" Ida, Alice, and Ollie Jessie Chapman
- Rychie de Rooster-Edith Sewall.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE DECEMBER NUMBER were received, before December i5th, from Gussie and Flossie, 6-Elaire S, i
- Helen Patten, 3- Natalie B., i Paul Reese, o-- Only I," i Hortense Holbrook, 3- Harold W. Mason, 2- Rulinda M. Hough,
i Willie Gallagher, I Eleanor Underhill, I Etta and Agnes Sonntag, I Grace Cochrane, 7 Charles Wachter, 2 Mabel Gannon,
i- Mabel S. West, Clara W., i Lottie Chamberlin, i -" Evelina," 2- Hattie A. Hosmer, Midwood," o1 Ralph H.
Thacher, 2 Effie K. Talboys, 6- Elsie S. Kimberly, x "Two Hayseeds," Lucia Cardigan H., Guy C. Miller, 6-Julia John-
son, 2- Astley P. C. Ashhurst, 7- Carrie K. Thacher, 5- Aidine and Amelia, 4--Nellie Archer, 5 -Adelante Villa, 9- Mama and
Marie, 3 Ethel and Hazel, 6- G. P. and C. C. P., Mama and Harry, 8-Marion, 3-Jo and I, io-Nellie L. Howes, 6-" May
and 79," 4-" Kamesit Girls," 7--Winifred, i- Papa and Ed, 8- Wille S. Cain, J. and W. Smith, 7--No name, Chicago, 6-
Laura M. Zinzer, 2- Anna L. Carpenter, x-Alice Butterfield, I.


SEARLY fo twiner, rat hout heer ainga ?
0 lewmoce, hout hatt bestgrin het rumsem gihn !
Het betrit dwin kamse ton hyt otryvic naiv,
Ron llwi ew kocm heet rof hyt nifat lube kys.
Clewmeo, 0 charm showe nylkid sayd dan ryd
Keam pirla dayre rof eht shotstrel gons,
Touh stirf serdreres fo eht rewstin grown.


I. To EDUCATE. 2. A masculine name. 3. A fem-
inine name. 4. A contrivance for lifting. 5. A gift.
6. Fatigues. 7. Manifest. 8. Reposes.
"O. C. TAGON."


MY primals, reading downward, name an eminent re-
former, and my finals, reading upward, spell an eminent
American lawyer who, in 1787, advocated the sovereignty
and equality of the States.
CROSS-WORDS: I. Culmination. 2. The three-toed
sloth of South America. 3. To remember with sorrow.

4. Violent dread. 5. Notion. 6. Amodel. 7. Tobedila-
tory. 8. A judge. 9. By means of. Io. A village. in.
A large Australian bird. 12. A starting or falling back.
c. B.


ALL of the characters described may be found in Dick-
ens's works. When rightly guessed and placed one be-
low another, the initials will spell the name by which a
desperate "waterside character" was known.
CROSS-WORDS: I. The Christian name of this water-
side character." 2. The Christian name of the boy who
asked for "some more." 3. An old man employed to
draw Paul Dombey's couch. 4. Part of the name be-
stowed on Thomas Balderstone in a sketch by "Boz."
5. The Christian name of Mr. Peggotty's niece. 6. The
surname of a half-crazed youth who joins in the Gordon
riots. 7. A friend of Mr. Jackson's. 8. The surname of
the hero of one of Dickens's stories. 9. The surname of
one of Mr. Marton's pupils. o1. The surname of a turn-
key at the Fleet prison. ii. The surname of a pupil of
Bradley Headstone's. 12. The surname of a character
in Miss Nettie Ashford's romance. 13. The surname of
a journeyman employed by Joe Gargery. 14. The sur-
name of a gloomy old bachelor who figures in "The
Bloomsbury Christening." ELLEN MILLER.


I. A VOWEL. 2. A syllable applied to the musical note
B. 3. Crime. 4. A term in trigonometry. 5. The straps of
a bridle. 6. A warbler. 7. Helping. 8. Separating. 9.
Withholding. o1. Shielding. Il. Continuing. "XELIS."



I. I. IN common. 2. The queen of the fairies. 3. To
fashion. 4. The surname of an eminent American states-
man born in Virginia, in March, 1751. 5. To perplex. 6.
Destiny. 7. In common.
II. I. In common. 2. A bank to confine water. 3.
Anislandof Greece. 4. A distinguishedAmerican states-
man born in South Carolina, in March, 1782. 5. A large
animal. 6. To entreat. 7. In common.
C. D.


FIND the names of fourteen kinds
of cake in the accompanying illustra-
tion. o -

BY starting at the righ, letrer .r i.
one of the follow- .
ing words, and f,.
then taking every .
third letter, a
proverb may be

NAY. I. :,

ON a certain pleasant day, three sisters named (I) city
of Australia, (2) city of Italy, and (3) city of Bulgaria
planned a little trip into the country. As they thought
they might (4) city of Italy through the pleasant coun-
try for some hours, they asked their two brothers to
accompany them.
Accordingly, (5) city of Australia and (6) city of the
District of Columbia acted as escorts. As it was to be a
strictly private affair, (5) city of Australia thought a
(7) city of Morocco a comfortable thing to wear on his
head; he always wore one, he said, when he smoked a
fragrant (8) city of Cuba. (I) City of Australia sug-
gested that a (9) city of South America would be more
appropriate, or perhaps a (Io) city of England with a
(11) city of Ireland lining. The (9) city of South
America had, in fact, belonged to his father, and was
much (12) city of France for him.
(2) City of Italy wore a broad (13) city of Italy ; (3)
city of Bulgaria wore a jaunty turban trimmed with
(14) city of Russia; while (I) city of Australia wore a
hat of her little cousin's, made of buff (5) city of France.
I wish," said (2) city of Italy, when they had started,
"that there was an old castle we could visit." Would
n't a (16) city of Delaware do ? asked (5) city of Aus-
tralia. ." No, indeed," said (3) city of Bulgaria; there
would be no romance in that. It would be smartly
furnished with (17) city of Belgium carpets in staring
patterns, and cheap (18) city of England curtains. Half
of the outside would be painted a bright (19) city of Italy
yellow, and the remainder red, bright enough almost to
(20) city of Switzerland if you touched it. No," she
continued, give me the old castles of the Old World."
Presently they reached a favorite spot in the woods,

and here (6) city of the District of Columbia began to un-
pack the luncheon. Christopher (2I) city of Ohio / "
he exclaimed. Margaret has put (22) city of Italy in
our sandwiches instead of chicken. Its flavor is enough
to (23) city ofFrance everything. The (24) city of Spain
grapes are fine. I think a few (25) city of Peru beans,
nicely seasoned with a dash of (26) city of French Guiana
would be relished, even if they were cold."
In spite of sundry mishaps, the luncheon was voted a
success. Then the party made a little (27) city of Italy
the woods near by, and though they
--_ met no (28) city of France,
i '' they did encounter a stray
'- (29) city of China.
S .i But all good times
.. must end, and as
,' the sun was setting
'k. the little party wend-
S .. ed its way home-
ward. The outing
':" ..I.,:'.. had been very pleas-
ant, though (2) city
S of taly's (30) city of
HI Ji 1 France gloves were
i' i -'.i.'. \ badly torn, and her
m" (31) city in the
S northern part of
S Africa shoes scratch-
.' ed by sharp stones.
-'. -. The servant was
W? t ,'"^I ringing the (32) city
S 1 of Ireland as they
-.; entered the house.
.'i ".i _.-- "We are in (33)
claimed (5) city of
S Australia;"though
-- doing other things,
he is always on hand
for supper."


I. I. A famous epic poem. 2. A dipper. 3. A simple-
ton. 4. Solitary. 5. To prevent.
II. I. To depart suddenly. 2. A person who prepares
a magazine for publication. 3. A kind of dulcimer. 4.
Makes reparation. 5. To disturb. 6. Quickly.
"WEE 3."

^t a a

a 4 4
4 4; 4? 4i

* .4 4
ii *x

4 4 *

I. UPPER SQUARE: I. To bring to a stand. 2. To
unclose. 3. To dispatch. 4. Finishes.
II. LEFT-HAND SQUARE: I. Scarce. 2. The agave.
3. To inwrap. 4. Snake-like fish.
III. RIGHT-HAND SQUARE: I. To box. 2. A step.
3. A small tract of land. 4. A rustic pipe.
IV. LOWER SQUARE: I A blemish. 2. To confine.
3. Long periods of time. 4. A pause. D. N. S. B.





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