Front Cover
 Collar-wallah and the poison-s...
 Battling under water
 The boyhood of Louis XIV
 A Chinese valentine
 Little Peter and the giant
 Not so bad as it might be
 The white cave
 The lament of Polly CLA: Showing...
 How Janet did it
 Holly-berry and mistletoe
 The little girl that cried
 Polly Oliver's problem
 The conjurer
 The vrow that lives by Haarlem...
 Railway speed at sea
 The cruise of the elves
 Valentine verses
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover

Title: St. Nicholas
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00265
 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: VID00265
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 242
    Collar-wallah and the poison-stick
        Page 243
        Page 244
        Page 245
        Page 246
        Page 247
        Page 248
    Battling under water
        Page 249
        Page 250
        Page 251
        Page 252
        Page 253
        Page 254
    The boyhood of Louis XIV
        Page 255
        Page 256
        Page 257
        Page 258
        Page 259
    A Chinese valentine
        Page 260
    Little Peter and the giant
        Page 261
        Page 262
        Page 263
        Page 264
        Page 265
        Page 266
        Page 267
    Not so bad as it might be
        Page 268
    The white cave
        Page 269
        Page 270
        Page 271
        Page 272
        Page 273
        Page 274
        Page 275
        Page 276
    The lament of Polly CLA: Showing how it came about that she plucked off her feathers
        Page 277
        Page 278
        Page 279
        Page 280
        Page 281
        Page 282
    How Janet did it
        Page 283
        Page 284
        Page 285
        Page 286
        Page 287
        Page 288
        Page 289
        Page 290
    Holly-berry and mistletoe
        Page 291
        Page 292
        Page 293
        Page 294
    The little girl that cried
        Page 295
        Page 296
    Polly Oliver's problem
        Page 297
        Page 298
        Page 299
        Page 300
        Page 301
        Page 302
        Page 303
        Page 304
        Page 305
    The conjurer
        Page 306
    The vrow that lives by Haarlem lake
        Page 307
        Page 308
        Page 309
    Railway speed at sea
        Page 310
        Page 311
        Page 312
        Page 313
    The cruise of the elves
        Page 314
    Valentine verses
        Page 315
    The letter-box
        Page 316
        Page 317
        Page 318
    The riddle-box
        Page 319
        Page 320
        Page 321
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text

,,, -_,: ._ : -- -- -"*







MOST people only know monkeys and their
manners and customs from the other side of
a cage: which is just the same thing as if
you put a horse into an attic with sloping roofs
and then tried to imagine how he would look
in a meadow.
Once upon a time I lived in a monkey
country, at Simla among the Himalayas, in a
house built out upon the side of a mountain
that was full of monkeys. There were two kinds
of them: the big silver-gray monkey about
three feet high, with a white beard,-people call
them langurs,-and the little greeny-brown
organ-grinder monkeys. We never saw much
of the big fellows. They kept to the tops of the
tall pines, and jumped from one tree to another
without seeming to care where they landed or
how. But the little ones frolicked from early
morning till twilight in our front garden and the
back garden and on the tin roof and round
all the verandas. They came with their wives
and their children,-tiny brown puff-balls with
their hair parted exactly in the middle, so
young that they tried to pick up things
with their mouths instead of with their hands,
and tumbled over on their heads; and they

used to pick the flowers in the drive and leave
their babies for punishment on the top of a
fence, and slide up and down the pine-trees and
make the most awful faces they could, just to
show that they did not care for people. We
watched them fight and play and nurse their
children and swing at the end of the long elas-
tic branches, and chase each other down the
almost perpendicular hillside, till we came to
know them and give them names. They were
fed once or twice a day,- some of them grew
so tame that they would come into the veranda.
and eat from our knees; but they always kept
one anxious eye on the open air behind them.
Monkeys are sacred beasts in most parts
of India, in Simla especially; but our friends
knew that monkeys are sometimes caught by
men and trained to ride on goats and to beat
tambourines,- things no self-respecting mon-
key would dream of doing. Once a troop of
trained monkeys came and performed in the
garden, and the wild monkeys sat about on the
trees and said the worst things that they could
think of, and the trained monkeys in their blue-
and-red petticoats looked at them sorrowfully.
When the performance was ended, all our friends

Copyright, 1892, by THE CENTURY Co. All rights reserved.

No. 4.


ran away, and I suppose they talked it over
that night, for they were very cautious, not to
say rude, next morning, and the babies were put
at the topmost tops of the pine-trees when the
mothers and fathers came down to be fed.
The tamest of our monkeys (we called them
ours, because they would fight any of the
tribe or family that came into the garden) was a
little fellow who had once been civilized. He
still wore a leather collar round his neck, which
is a most unusual place for a monkey-collar to
be. Generally it is put around the waist. We
called him" Collar-Wallah" (the collar-man), and
he would eat biscuit from my sister's hand, open-
ing her fingers one by one. The monkeys were
our great delight, and we made them show off
before callers, and drew pictures of them, and
chased them out of our rooms, and saw as
much of their ways as they chose to show. We
never understood when they went to bed, but
we heard them mewing like cats up in the
trees; and late at night, coming home from a
dinner, the flash of our lanterns would disturb
a nest of them in the darkness. Then there
would be yells and screeches and cries of,
"What did you push me out of bed for?" "I
did n't!" "You did!" "You 're another!"
"Take that!" and a monkey would come
crashing through the branches, and sit at the
bottom of the tree, and shout: "Smarty!" till
he was tired.
One day I found Collar-Wallah bounding
out of my window with my hair-brushes. He
left them in the crotch of a tree, and the next
time I had a fair chance I threw a pine-cone at
him, and knocked him off the end of the fence
where he was hunting for fleas. Collar-Wallah
put his head through the pickets, showed all
his teeth, and called me every ugly name in the
monkey language and went up the hillside.
Next morning I saw him hanging head down-
ward from the gutter above my window, feeling
into the rooms with his arms for something to
carry away. That time I did not throw a pine-
cone, but put some mustard into a piece of
bread and let him eat it. When it began to
burn he danced with rage, and that night, just
before he went to bed, he pushed my looking-
glass over with his feet, breaking it into splin-
ters. Kadir Baksh, my servant, said gravely as

he picked up the pieces: That monkey is
angry with you, Sahib."
I laughed, and said I did not care because I
was going away in a day or two for a march,
and Kadir Baksh grinned. Marching is more
like setting out in search of adventures, as the
knights used to do, than anything else; and
whenever I got a chance I used to go on a
march. The way to do it is this way. You
take your horse and groom and servant, and
two or three men to carry provisions, and go
out for a week or a fortnight, just for the sake
of walking and riding and seeing. There is no
country in all the world as beautiful as the
Himalayas, and my march was going to lead
me through the loveliest of the mountains. So
I took my horse (her real name was Dorothea
Darbishoff," because she had come into India
from Russia, but she was called Dolly Bobs"
for short, because she shied). And I took her
groom, a one-eyed man called Dunnee, and
Kadir Baksh took his umbrella and the little
bundle of things he wanted, and commanded a
detachment of two coolies with baskets full of
tinned things to eat slung over their shoulders
on bamboo poles, and little "Vixen," my fox-ter-
rier (who always hoped to catch a monkey
some day, and never did), took command of us
all, and we started off along the road that leads
to Thibet. There is no other road worth men-
tioning in that part of the world, and the only
way of missing it is by stepping off its edge
and rolling a few thousand feet into the valley.
In front of us there was nothing but the line of
the Himalayan snows, that always looks just the
same, however near you may get to it. Some-
times we could see the road curling round a
hillside eight or ten miles ahead, or dipping
into a valley two or three thousand feet below.
Sometimes we went through forests where every
tree was hung with ferns from top to bottom,
and where the violets and the lilies of the valley
grew as thick as grass. Sometimes we had to
climb over a naked shoulder of shaven hill
where the sun blistered the back of our necks,
and sometimes we wound along under a cliff
of solid black rock, all wrapt in mist and cloud,
with a thunder-storm roaring in the valley be-
neath us. At midday we stopped to eat by the
roadside, and at night we rested in the bare


houses with nothing in them except a chair and pipe, which was made of an old blacking-bottle,
a bedstead that are put up for the accommoda- and we began to talk. Then his wife came in, and
tion of travelers. But it was a most beautiful put what was left of the supper into a dish, and
march. Everybody thought so except Dolly carried it out. I could
Bobs, and she did not like meeting in a narrow hear Vixen, who was
toad caravans of sheep, ea.:h -the.!il c: rr,nT : le,-i.,,g ,[.. nDo. I ) ll .
little leather-tipped sack of tboL .t .., -:,, ,i,-,., i:,. L- I ,. i ,.i-t ne, r
from Thibet. The big wol,,-d- ti, guard tIk,.a do ijint,
the caravans frightened h'sr. lhre,_ or four .i-:mn J:dar
times in a day, too, we woulo.l I,,- .;,.,,e t: .:. Ih ut- It
across a whole tribe of mo Lk c;!i ng r, ,I nh, r .._o:,
camping-grounds, and the .hai.irtri.r rd bL.Lrk-
ing and scuffling upset .
her nerves. We used
Dolly Bobs for a pack-
horse at last and tramped
on our feet twenty miles
a day, till we reached a
beautiful valley called
Kotgarh, where they
grow opium and corn.
The next day's march
I knew would take us
down three thousand
feet and up two thou-
sand, so I halted above
the valley and looked
about for a place to sleep
in for the night. We
found a Mohammedan
farmer who said he
would be happy to lodge
Dolly Bobs and give me
what he could to eat.
So we went up to his
hut and put Dolly Bobs
under cover, and soon sat
down to some boiled kid ar..I
what they call Mussulr''in
bread. Then there was r,:,r,
honey and some more breri. NM '.:
host would not eat any of nr,, t-
ned things, for he was afrail thuit
they might have pork in the m. -, r. I
Mohammedans are forbidden t'to -lt
pork. After supper I wrap-..-- i,-:! p.
in a blanket, Kadir Baksh curled up for a
smoke, and Dunnee came in and sat in a corner
and smoked his own pipe alone,-for he was a manners), begin to growl and talk monkey, and I
low-caste Hindu,-and my host lit his water- wondered why Mohammedans, who generally


make a point of ill-treating every animal that the
Hindu holds sacred, should feed monkeys. The
woman came back with the empty dish, saying:
"I hope they will swell and die!" and I heard
the monkeys scuffling and chattering over the
food. The farmer looked at me and said: "I
should not do this if I were not forced; but
when the monkey-folk are stronger than you
are, what can a poor man do ?"
Then he told me this tale, and I give it as he
told it.
Sahib, I am a poor man-a very poor man.
It is my fate to come to this country far away
from my Mohammedan friends."
Kadir Baksh moved restlessly, and I saw that
he wanted to say something, so I gave him
leave to speak.
"Perhaps," said Kadir Baksh, "he has for-
gotten something. It is in my mind, Sahib,
that before this man was a Mohammedan he
was a Hindu. He is a Mohammedan of the
first generation, and not one of the old stock.
Blessed are those that take hold of the faith at
any time, but the face of this man is the face
of a Hindu."
"That is true," said the man; "I was an
arain, a gardener, but my father turned Moham-
medan, and I, his son, with him. Then I went
away from my Hindu people, and came here
because my wife has friends in these hills and
the soil is good. They are all Hindus in this
valley, but not one of them has ever molested
me on account of my being a Mohammedan.
Neither man nor woman, I say, neither man
nor woman has offered any harm to me or
mine. But-- Sahib, the monkey-folk are very
wise. I am sure that they knew I had turned
my back on the old gods of the Hindus. I am
sure of it."
The monkeys outside chattered as they swept
up the last of the supper, and the farmer shook
his head solemnly.
"Now listen, Sahib. This spring I planted
rice for myself and my little ones -good rice
to eat if Fate allowed me to live so long. My
back ached as I planted it tuft by tuft in the
little field yonder, and I borrowed a neighbor's
buffalo to plow the wet furrows. Upon a day,
while I was planting, there came one of the
monkey-folk out of the forest there at the top

of the hill, and he sat upon the boundary-stone
of my field and made mocking faces at me.
So I took a clot of mud and threw it at him,
crying, 'Begone, sinful one!' and he went back
to that forest. But on the next day there came


two of the monkey-people, and they sat upon
my boundary-stone, and I threw two clots of
mud at them, and they went to my house toge-
ther, dancing upon their hind legs, and they
stole all the red peppers that hang upon the
"Yes," said the woman, "they stole all the
red peppers. They were burned in their
mouths, but they stole them."
Upon the next day I took a gullel, a pellet-
bow, and hid it in the long grass by the side
of the rice, that the Hindus my neighbors might
not see what I did, and when those monkey-
folk came again I hit one in the back with a
pellet of dried mud. Immediately then they
went to my house, and while my wife stood
without to prevent any more stealing of red
peppers, they burrowed into the thatch just
above where the Sahib is sitting now, and they
came through and overturned the milk in the
pot, putting out the fire. That night I was
very angry, and I said to myself: 'They think
that because there are many Hindus in this



valley I shall not dare to kill them. 0 foolish
monkey-folk!' But I was the fool, Sahib.
With my gray beard, I was the fool! In the
morning I took rice, a year old and firm in the
grain, and boiled it with milk and sugar, a mess
for four people, and set it in the corer of the
field, and said: 'First they shall eat the good
meat, and then they shall eat the bad, and I
will destroy them at one blow!' So I hid
behind a bush, and I saw, not one monkey,
but a score of them come down from the woods
and consider the matter, and he that had first
sat upon the boundary-stone and made faces at
me was, as before, the leader of them all."
But how couldst thou tell one monkey
from another at a distance?" I asked.
The farmer grunted contemptuously. "Are
there then two monkeys in these hills," he said,
"that wear a leather collar about their neck ?
About the neck, Sahib, and not about the waist,
where a monkey's strap should be ?"
Kadir Baksh kicked with both legs under
the blanket, and blew out a heavy puff of
Dunnee, from his corer, winked his one eye
fifty times.
"My goodness!" I said, but I did not say it
quite aloud, and the farmer was so interested in
his story that he went on without noticing us.
"Now I am sure, Sahib, that it was the Evil
One that had put that collar about his neck for
a reward of great wickedness. They consid-
ered the rice for a time, tasting it little by little,
and then he with the collar cried a cry and
they ate it all up, chattering and dancing about
the fields. But they had not gratitude in their
hearts for their good meal-and rice is not
cheap in the hills this year."
"They knew. They knew," said his wife,
quietly. "They knew that we meant evil to-
ward them. We should have given it as a
peace-offering. Hanuman, the monkey-god,
was angry with us. We should have made a
"They showed no gratitude at all," said the
farmer, raising his voice. "That very evening
they overset and broke my pipe which I had
left in the fields, and they stole my wife's silver
anklets from under the bed. Then I said:
'The play is played. We will have done with

this child's game.' So I cooked a mess of
rice, larger and sweeter than the first, and
into it I put of white arsenic enough to kill
a hundred bullocks. In the morning I laid
that good monkey-food once more in the high
grass, and by my father's beard, Sahib, there
came out of the forest monkeys and monkeys
and monkeys, and yet more monkeys, leaping
and frisking and walking upon their hinder
legs, and he, the leader df them all, was the
monkey with the collar! They gathered about
the dish and dipped their hands in and ate
a little, and spat it out and dipped afresh;
neither eating the food nor leaving it alone.
I, hidden behind the bush, laughed to myself
and said, 'Softly, softly, 0 foolish monkey-
folk! There may not be enough for all, but
those who eat shall never need ask for a meal
again!' Then the monkey with the collar sat
upon the edge of the dish and put his head on
one side thus, and scratched himself thus, and
all the others sat about him. They stayed
still for so long a time as it takes a buffalo
to plow one furrow in the rice-field. I was
planting rice in the little field below-beauti-
ful green rice plants. Ahi! I shall not husk
any of that rice.
"Then he with the collar made an oration.
In truth, Sahib, he spoke to his
companions as it might have
been a priest in the mosque,
and those monkey- folk went
back to the forest, leav-
ing the rice smoking
in the dish. In a very
short time they return-
ed, and to me, watch-
ing from behind the
bush, it was as though
all the undergrowth
of the forest was mov-
ing, for each monkey
bore in his hands a
twig, and the collar-
monkey walked before them all, and his tail
was high in the air. In truth, he was their
padishah, Sahib-their general."
Now, I had been thinking very hard about
Collar-Wallah,--the Collar-Wallah who ate
biscuits in our back garden at Simla, and I



was trying to remember how early in the sum-
mer he had made his first appearance with
us. In the language that the farmer was talk-
ing, the word he used for twig might have
meant a stone. So I said: "What did they
bring in their hands? Stones that you throw,
or twigs that you cut? "
"Twigs-little branches with green leaves
upon them," said the wife. "They know all
that we do not know of the uses of the green
herbs in the forest."
"Sahib, I am a very poor man, but I never
tell lies. They assembled about that dish of
milk and rice and they stirred it with the twigs
till the hot rice spurted over their feet, and they
yelled with pain. But they stirred it, and they
stirred it, and they stirred, and they stirred thus."
The farmer's hand went round in circles about
a foot from the floor.
'"Now, when that stirring was accomplished,
Sahib, and he with the collar had tasted the
mess again, they threw away the twigs and fell
upon that rice and milk and ate it all up and
fought for the last grains, and they were very
merry and caught fleas one from the other.
When I saw that they did not die,-that, by
virtue of that stirring with the twigs, all the
white arsenic, which should have killed a hun-
dred bullocks, became good boiled rice and
milk again, the hair of my head stood up, and
I said, I have not fought against the monkey-
folk, but against wizards and warlocks.'"
Nay," said the wife, almost under her
breath. "It was against Hanuman that we
fought,-against Hanuman the monkey god,
and the old Hindu gods whom we had
I ran home very swiftly and told my wife
these things, and she said I must not stir
abroad any more for fear of bewitchment by
these apes. So I lay on my bed and drew the
blanket about me, and prayed as a Moham-
medan should pray till the twilight. But woe
is me! Even while I prayed, those monkey-
folk worked my ruin. I went out of the house
at the rising of the moon to milk my cow, and
I heard a noise of small feet running over wet
ground, and when the moon rose I saw that
in the whole of my little field there was not
one blade of rice remaining. Tuft by tuft,

Sahib, those monkey-folk had plucked it out;
with their teeth and their hands they had bit-
ten and torn every tuft, and thrown them all
about the hillside as a child throws a broken
necklace! Of my labor and my pains, and
the work of my neighbors' buffaloes through
the spring, not one cowrie's worth remained,
and I took off my turban and threw it upon
the ground and wept and roared."
Didst thou by chance pray to any of thy
Hindu gods?" said Kadir Baksh, quickly.
Dunnee said nothing, but his one eye twinkled,
and I fancy he chuckled deep in his throat.
"I -I do not remember upon whom I
called. I was insensible with grief, and when
I lifted up my eyes I saw him, the evil one
with the collar, sitting alone upon the boun-
dary-stone, regarding me with wicked yellow
eyes, and I threw my turban at him and it be-
came unrolled, and he caught one end of it
and dragged it away up the hillside. So I
came back to my house bareheaded, without
honor and ashamed, the sport of the monkey-
There was a pause, and he pulled at his pipe
"Now, therefore," he went on, "we feed
the monkeys twice a day, as thou, 0 Sahib,
hast seen, for we hope to patch up a peace
between us. Indeed, they do not steal much
now; there is very little left to steal; and he
with the collar went away after the ruin of my
rice-field. Now, my little daughter's wedding
this year will lack a bridal procession and a
band of musicians, and I do not know whence
my next year's seed-rice will come. All this
I owe to the monkey-folk, and especially to
him with the collar."
Long after I had rolled the blanket round
me, and was trying to go to sleep, I heard
SKadir Baksh's deep voice quoting texts from
the Koran, and telling the farmer never to for-
get that he was a true Mohammedan.
A fortnight later I came back to Simla again,
and the first person to meet me in the drive
was Collar-Wallah. He dashed under Dolly
Bobs's feet and made her shy, and then sat on
a low branch nibbling his tail, which is the last
insult that a monkey can offer.
Collar-Wallah," I said, reining up, "it's no


use your pretending not to understand. I heard
something about you at Kotgarh, andI warn
you solemnly that if ever you try to do any-
thing to me again, I sha'n't throw pine-cones
at you. I shall shoot you dead. I'm7 not a

Collar-Wallah might have been the most in-
nocent monkey in the world (though I do not
for a moment believe it), and perhaps he did
not understand a word that I said. All I
know is that he never came near the house
again as long as I was there.





_: 5.: :-
^i *"'* -? **-'P'-;'p-''*. (ict

AT MOBILE, 1864.
THE greatest question in naval warfare to- bottoms of an adversary's war-galleys, in order
day is not about the big battle-ships or saucy to sink them, and drown or capture their row-
torpedo-boats, already pictured and described ers and fighting men.
in ST. NICHOLAS, but how to get a boat that The diving warrior and his box did not out-
will safely dive below the keel of a hostile last the great galleys they had tried to sink,
vessel and blow her to destruction with a and the history of these boats passes over two
charge of dynamite or guncotton. This mode thousand years to the American captain Bush-
of attacking an enemy is not entirely new, for, nell, of the Revolutionary army, and his diving-
nearly twenty-five hundred years ago, divers boat. This was a tiny, walnut-shaped vessel,
were lowered into the water in a simply sculled by a single oar, and having a crew of
constructed air-box, to perforate the wooden one man. The boat sat low in the water while



for the breaking of this screw, it is pos-
sible that the British admiral's flag-ship
might have been blown up as she lay
at anchor in New York harbor; but
that is mere guesswork, for, as Gen-
eral Washington said of the boat, "too
many things were necessary to be com-
bined in it." Yet it was ingenious, a
credit to American skill and daring, and
its arrangements are still studied by
those interested in submarine navigation.
Twenty-five years later, Robert Ful-
ton, who did so much for steam naviga-
THE BUSHNELL TORPEDO-BOAT. tion, took the Bushnell boat for a model,
and greatly improved upon it. He
on the surface, enabling it at night to get near made the hull of thin copper sheets, instead
its intended victim without detection. Then of wood, and changed the sculling-oar into a
the hatch was closed, shutting in air
enough to last half an hour, and by
letting in a little water and turning an .__-
upright screw-bladed oar, the boat was
.sunk to near the keel-level of the en-
emy's vessel, and sculled under the hull.
A torpedo outside the boat carried a
heavy charge of gunpowder, and was
provided with clockwork to fire the
charge after the little torpedo-boat
should have retreated to a safe distance.
The torpedo had a pointed screw stem,
by which it was to be attached to the
doomed vessel, the screw being turned
from inside the torpedo-boat. Except THE "GYMNOTE" PATROLLING A COAST.
paddle-wheel worked by hand.
He forced into a copper tank
enough air to supply a crew of
four men while under water for
six hours. For use while at the
Surface, the boat was provided
with removable masts and sails.
-- His experiments lasted some
twelve years, the governments
of France, Great Britain, and
the United States successively
supplying the means. But
naval experts everywhere
scouted the serviceableness of
the boat, and the higher au-
thorities denounced its mode
of warfare as no better than






device, however, was employed without official
permission against some of the British vessels
blockading the New England coastsin the War
of 1812. Though no actual damage was done,
the blockaders were badly frightened by the
Nothing important succeeded Fulton's boat
till the time of the Civil War, when the Con-
federates constructed some cigar-shaped ves-

sels of sheet-iron, to be driven by a screw
worked by hand, and submerged by the ad-
mission of water; the descent and ascent were
regulated by rudders or paddles on the sides
of the boat, in much the same way as in the
Bushnell boat. These boats were provided
with floating torpedoes that dragged astern and
were intended to explode by striking against
the bottom of a ship under which the torpedo-



boat should pass. They had also torpedoes set
on a spar standing out from the bow of the
boat. One of these sparred torpedoes de-
stroyed the Federal blockader "Housatonic,"
off Charleston, but the torpedo-boat and her
crew of nine men were also lost by being
caught in the wreck of the sinking ship. The
same torpedo-boat had previously drowned
twenty-three members of her successive crews
by many accidents due to her defects.
The reason why submarine torpedo-boats
are in demand is that the surface torpedo-boats
may be failures, though a few years ago they
were so highly thought of that many authorities
declared it folly to build large and costly battle-
ships, when an inexpensive torpedo-boat could
readily destroy them. But the battle-ships
now have their electric search-lights for night
use, their machine-guns to rain tempests of
projectiles upon an approaching foe, their steel
nettings reaching out from the hull and down

to the keel, and their
swift steaming guard-
boats, also armed with
torpedoes for attack
upon advancing en-
emies of the same
kind. Thereupon the
cry is for a torpedo-
boat that may defy
the search-light, the
rapid-fire guns, the
steel netting, and .the
guard-boats, and such
a boat must be one
S that can come near,
Sand do its work un-
Naval authorities
en uno longer consider it
barbarous or inhu-
man to use submarine
Se boats, for the world
Sf has grown accustom-
i o S ed to the use of hid-
den torpedoes, anrd of
t Z'c w the terrible dynamite,
in operations of war.
TORPEDO. (SEE PAGE 316.) Nor can the weaker
or poorer nations
afford to turn away from an agent within even
their reach, for it may one day be the means
of preserving their rights or their liberties from
some stronger naval power.
To be safe and efficient, a submarine torpedo-
boat must have many good qualities. It must
be a good surface-boat, able to keep at sea in
rough weather, and to travel at a speed of some
twenty-five miles an hour in smooth water.
When under water, the speed should not be less
than fifteen miles an hour. All machinery for
keeping the boat at a regulated depth below
the surface, or for preventing it from rolling ovet,
or from dipping at the bow or stern, must be
self-acting--that is, not dependent from moment
to moment upon the judgment, skill, or atten-
tion of the crew. The boat must be well lighted
within, and must afford the crew a good view
throughout the adjacent water. It should also
have means for bringing down from the surface
a reflected view of what is present or happen-




ing there within a radius of at least a mile. The
air contained within the boat must be purified
by chemical process, and the ordinary tempera-
ture must not greatly exceed that of a hot day
in midsummer. The crew must be able to get
surely and quickly into the water in case of ac-
cident to the boat, or of other peril to their lives.
The boat must be able to remain continuously
under water for at least twelve hours, and, dur-
ing that time, to lay its course accurately and
know its position. It must be able to avoid or
to clear obstructions or entanglements, and to
extricate itself from mud in shallow waters.
The boat and its appliances must be so con-
structed and so arranged as to act with great
certainty, ease, and readiness under all circum-
stances, so that the commander may take his
proceedings and give his orders for the working
of the boat in full confidence of the result.
Finally, the boat must be able to discharge into
and through the water a torpedo large enough
and powerful enough to destroy the greatest
war-ship without dan-
ger to the boat itself.
No submarine boat
yet built has fully reach-
ed the foregoing stan-
dard, but a few have
given much promise,
and excited great hope
of development into a '
high degree of effective-'.
ness Chief among these '? "
is the French boat
"Gymnote," designed
by Naval Constructor
Zede, a steel, cigar-
shaped, propeller vessel,
driven by electricity,
and carrying an out-
side torpedo to be ex-
ploded by an electric
current sent from the
boat. This vessel has
made eleven mile' an
hour when fully sub-
merged, and has re-
mained continuously
under water for eight
hours. A reflection of

whatever is upon the surface in the vicin-
ity of the submerged boat is carried down
through a kind of telescope, and enables the
operators to handle the vessel as readily and
intelligently as if they themselves were upon
the surface. For the present the French author-
ities are keeping the boat as secret as possible.
How serviceable the boat would be in actual
warfare, cannot yet be even guessed.
A submarine boat invented by Lieutenant
Peral, of the Spanish navy, has been tested at
Cadiz with good results. This vessel is also
cigar-shaped, and is propelled by twin screws
driven by electricity. The torpedo used is of
the Whitehead pattern, which by internal ma-
chinery propels itself toward the object at Which
it is directed, and is exploded when it strikes.
The "Peral" has made six miles an hour, and
has remained submerged for as much as three
hours and a half. How it is made, and how it
works, have not been told.
Before the recent construction of the Gym-



note and Peral, the Nordenfelt boat, designed
by the inventor of a noted machine-gun, was
considered the most promising. This boat is
rounded at the center, with the ends tapering
to upright wedges. It is propelled by a screw
driven by a steam-engine. It is submerged and
raised by taking in or forcing out water-ballast,
and its sinking or rising is aided by upright
screws. Flat rudders at the bow prevent the
dipping of stem or stern. The boat, in its latest
form, has shown great seaworthiness, and when
submerged has reached a speed of over twelve
miles an hour. Though depending upon the
natural supply of air, the boat is able to remain
a long time under water without coming to the
surface. The torpedo used is the Whitehead,
already mentioned.
Lieutenant Hovgaard, of the Danish navy, is
the designer of a boat intended to be propelled
by electricity when submerged, and by steam
upon the surface. Its submerging and descend-
ing are governed by upright propellers with a
thrusting motion. It is meant for a long stay
under water, and its mechanism is to be largely
self-acting,-an important safeguard against a
sudden and fatal plunge to the bottom.
An English boat, the invention of a civil-
engineer named Ash, differs from others in being
so made as to sink, so long as the downward
motion is not arrested by the pushing out of
metal cylinders arranged in a row on each side
of the boat and charged with compressed air.
This cylinder arrangement is remarkably simple
and ingenious, but actual trials of the boat have
not been encouraging.
The Peacemaker" is an American boat, de-
signed by a resident of San Francisco, named
Tuck. Its shape is that of an elongated oval.
The motive-power is steam, the boiler being
heated by a coal fire while on the surface, and
by caustic soda after submergence. The means
of descent and ascent are of an ordinary kind;

namely, water-ballast and side rudders. Com-
pressed air, purified by chemical process, is sup-
plied to the crew. Two buoyant torpedoes,
coupled together, are floated under the keel of
the ship to be destroyed, and magnets are at-
tached to them to make them hold to the steel
plates. They are then exploded by an electric.
current from the boat. In an actual river trial
at New York, this boat has made eight miles
per hour, and has remained below the surface
for half an hour.
Senhor Barboza de Souza, of Pernambuco in
Brazil, has sought to lessen the consequences
of accident or disaster by making the bow and
stern sections of a boat detachable from the
midship section, so that they, or either of them,
may be cast off in case of entanglement or
injury, leaving behind a still perfect and fully
equipped submarine vessel.
So far as can be determined upon present in-
formation, no submarine torpedo-boat has yet
been built or planned that would completely
meet the requirements of actual warfare. That
such boats will be plentiful within a few years
seems, however, almost a certainty. This con-
clusion few would doubt in the presence of the
Nordenfelt boat, to take a particular example.
And the destruction of a single large war-ship
by a submarine boat would spread demoraliza-
tion through the navies of the world. After the
blowing up of the Housatonic, the fine steam-
frigate "Wabash," armed with powerful guns,
and having a disciplined crew of seven hundred
men, fled in ludicrous confusion from one of the
clumsy little Confederate divers-officers and
seamen alike terror-stricken till safety was as-
sured by distance. Naval power would be
paralyzed till means should be found to neutral-
ize the mischief of the unseen and unknown
adversary, and it might be that naval warfare
would be transferred for a time beneath the
surface of the sea.

.COSWr/OSe/4 a -~-S~---.








..SB5----..-- ..

3 gy--- -- -


No human being ever thought more of him-
self than Louis XIV. of France. He was not
at all remarkable in himself, but he had a re-
markable life, and he fills a great space in history.
When he was born, all Europe rejoiced, and
when he died, the world felt that a great light
had gone out. He was not a handsome man,
or wise, or learned; yet he thought himself
all three, and no wonder. He was always sur-
rounded by a crowd of men and women who
made him think he was the most perfect human
being the world had ever produced. So much
flattery had its effect.
His father was Louis XIII., a dreary, sad-
faced man, as different as possible from his

gay and cheery grandfather, Henry IV.; his
mother was Anne of Austria, a beautiful wo-
man of imperious will, the eldest daughter of
the King of Spain.
Great were the rejoicings at his birth (Sep-
tember 5, 1638). In Paris, on the quay of the
Hotel de Ville, wine and food were distributed
for three whole days to all who came; and at
night the city appeared to be on fire, such was
the splendor of its illuminations.
The public baptism of the dauphin, or heir,
was postponed until April, 1643, and was then
celebrated with magnificence in the chapel at
St. Germain. The story goes that on the re-
turn from the ceremony, the king asked his


name, and when the child answered, "Louis
the Fourteenth," the king reproved him, say-
ing, "Not yet, my son; not yet!"
Whether this little dialogue ever took place,
we cannot say; but certain it is that the
moment was fast approaching when the child
in very truth would be Louis XIV.
Little Louis was just four years and eight
months old when, by the death of his father, he
became King of France. He received his cour-
tiers gracefully on the first occasion when they
presented themselves before him; and when he
and his mother stepped out on the balcony to
show themselves to the people who swarmed
below, he was greeted with shouts of "Vive Ie
Roi/" from the populace. Thus began his long
reign over France. Immediately after assum-
ing his royal duties, he presided at a council.
Lifted into the chair of state, he sat there de-
murely while the 'council deliberated, and then
signed his first public document,-his mother,
Anne of Austria, holding his little hand, and
guiding the pen.
The next morning he was taken to Paris.
His whole journey was a triumphal progress.
The people never tired of looking at and
praising the lovely child, who sat on his mo-
ther's knee and gazed at them with earnest
baby eyes. It was on the occasion of meet-
ing his parliament next day that, for at least
once in his stately life, Louis XIV. acted like
a child. He was sitting upon his throne in the
Hall of Saint Louis, the queen regent on his
right hand, the court all around, while in front
sat the parliament, composed of grave, dignified
men, awaiting his orders. The queen stood
him upon his feet, and whispered in his ear.
The king laughed, blushed, turned around, and
hid his little face in the cushions of his seat.
Never had parliament been more quaintly re-
ceived! But Anne of Austria was strict in
etiquette. Again she took his hand, again
spoke softly in his ear. Gracefully he stepped
forward and said, Gentlemen, I am come to
assure you of my affection; my chancellor will
inform you of my will."
The little king was too young, of course, to
understand much that went on around him.
He spent the greater part of every day in the
company of his mother. A small band of chil-

dren, formed into a military company and called
les enfants d'honneur (children of honor), helped
to amuse his Majesty. He drilled them severely,
marching them up and down the long gallery
of the Louvre to the sound of a big drum,
which had been given him, and which he de-
lighted to beat. Whenever the queen appeared,
these youngsters presented arms with much
When Louis was seven years old-that is to
say, in the year 1645-he danced at the wedding
of his cousin, Marie de Nevers, who married
the King of Poland. Dancing was a fine art
at this time, and one in which persons of high
rank were expected to excel. Anne of Austria
was an exquisite dancer, and had caused her
son to be carefully trained in this graceful
accomplishment. Young as he was, he could
bow with surprising distinction, and wield his
hat skilfully in the mazes of the minuet.
On his eighth birthday he was taken from
his governess and ladies, and placed in the
charge of men. The change caused him much
vexation, and the first night when, instead of
his familiar nurse, a valet came to care for him,
his slumbers were much disturbed. In fact, he
could not go to sleep, because the valet did not
know the story called the "Ass's Ride," which
his nurse always told him at bedtime. The
valet also was in tribulation, but at last be-
thought him of Mdz6ray's "History of France."
The book was read aloud with the happiest re-
sults-his Majesty slept. M6zeray's history is
enough to send any one to sleep in five min-
utes, so it is no wonder that Louis yielded.
On the ioth of November, 1647, the king
was at the play, and enjoying himself very
much, when suddenly he complained of violent
pains and asked to be taken home. Next
day he was in a high fever, and on the third
day smallpox declared itself. The court fled,
only one lady of honor remaining with the
queen during this terrible crisis in her son's
life; and the queen herself watched beside him
until she fainted from exhaustion. For days he
lay at the point of death, but at length began
slowly to recover. Then his mother wept for joy.
Ere long he was quite well, only-the bloom
of his beauty had fled with the disease. Even
his brother did not know him when they met.



VOL. XX.-17.


When the first war of the Fronde broke out,
the royal family were in Paris; but, owing to the
queen's unpopularity, they did not there enjoy
peace. Accordingly, early in 1649, she deter-
mined to leave the city, and knowing that
she would not be permitted to go openly,
took her measures in secret. At three o'clock
on a cold winter morning the king arose, and
joined his mother and brother at a back door-
way of the Palais Royal. They drove to St. Ger-
main,where they arrived just as the sun was rising.
They were unexpected, so nothing was ready:
neither furniture, food, nor fire. Those who
could get enough straw to sleep upon were lucky.
For three or four days they endured much
discomfort; then a sort of peace was patched
up, the king and queen came back, and were
received with acclamations by the people. The
same populace who, a few months before, were
execrating their names, now rent the air with
shouts of joy.
It was a rule of the old French law that
monarchs come of age at thirteen. Louis was
rapidly approaching the momentous birthday.
He had grown into a tall, fine-looking lad; his
manners were good; he was an excellent horse-
man; he danced admirably, as we have seen;
and he had already shown that taste for elabo-
rate dress and ceremony which later years were
so strongly to develop.
But before he reached the eventful day, the
royal pair passed through a trying experience.
It was night-time. Suddenly a rumor spread
abroad that the king and his mother were trying
to escape out of their unfriendly capital. Bells
rang, the people turned out, all Paris was in an
uproar, and marched down upon the Palais
Arrived at the palace gates, the people
shouted their will. "Our king! Show us our
king! they cried. Within the palace were dis-
may and fear. The queen's ladies, pale and
trembling, clung to her; she alone was undis-
mayed. Hearing the shout for the king, she-
his mother-calmly ordered the doors to be
thrown open wide. She faced the mob of those
who would'enter, and asked what they wanted.
"To see the king," they answered, "and as-
sure ourselves that you do not intend to steal
him away."

"The king sleeps," replied the queen. "I
will show him to you."
With all the regal grace for which she was
famous, Anne slowly led the way down the
gallery to her son's room. She was followed
by as motley a crew as ever the Palais Royal
had seen within its walls. On the threshold
she paused to put her finger significantly on her
lips, then stepped forward to the bed, pulled
wide the curtains, and displayed to the people
the young king seemingly asleep. He was
only feigning slumber. Louis the Fourteenth
lay there with eyelids tight shut, but it was to
keep back the tears of helpless anger that welled
up from his heart.
For two hours the queen stood beside his
pillow, and did the honors of his supposed
slumber, while the rabble of Paris filed past in
whispered admiration. Such nights as these in
the lives of kings either dethrone them or make
them tyrants.
On the morning when the king attained his
majority, he rose early, and was dressed in a
splendid suit, covered so thickly with gold em-
broidery that none of the material could be
seen. His mother and Monsieur d'Anjou, fol-
lowed by the whole court, saluted him, and
then a splendid procession set out for the Hall
of Saint Louis, where he was to meet his par-
The ceremony was very grand, and now the
king and his mother imagined that their
troubles were at an end. But, within the
month, the second civil war, by far the most
serious Fronde war, burst out. Twice during its
course the king was near losing his kingdom,
if not his life. Not until months had passed,
and many lives were lost, were the civil wars
finally concluded.
It was the special wish of Anne of Austria
that her son should marry his cousin, the In-
fanta Maria Theresa, and she kept this object in
view even in the midst of a war with Spain.
The Infanta, who was just fifteen days younger
than Louis, was a fair, blue-eyed girl, not
beautiful in feature. Despite the most grace-
less coiffure and dress ever invented, her por-
trait by Velasquez, the great Spanish painter,
shows her an attractive young princess.
The marriage project took definite shape in






A:-. ?. N ""_
A .


1659, and the king with his court set out on Louis the Fourteenth was now, in very truth,
a long progress through the south of France, the King of France. A new era in his life
until finally, in May, 166o, he found himself on began-the most interesting of his life, but of
the Spanish frontier, awaiting his bride, his reign the histories will best tell the story.

' .)


SCaSt Wird Softly blo50S n7y thoughts uitb
the piprk a1rd bite blosson5 to be vhbon? I
S'love. Qon7e out updePr the plun7-tree aird
r' listed" to the Voice ot the 5ast Wird.
"Ope bo s ot kouo."

idl(If t- l 'a llt lllll lllltl 0 lllit llll ^ il I ,', ,
III I i i ll I I i i
S1 aS1 t WidIi Sotly blou)s ',y tboII ht, L i ,
b 15te? t-o th-be Vice oT the raSt Wir/d.

141 i nilll, O!lrl, N, OR'..llll I .. I'I .

RR' te lll'l?^ll lll II lll"l^ fl"(l, f I I %l~ l '' ", n,'' ,I, ii; "..;'
i1m, '" 0' H', N.. I .,.
W-SE -". .... .ri p7e ."nl *Vs. .. .. .

(A Fable of the Old-Fashioned Sort.)


GREAT many years
ago, in the only
country where there
] ever really were gi-
ants outside of the
dime museums, Lit-
tle Peter sat in the
fence-corner, dream-
ing his day-dreams.
There was nothing
else for him to do.
He was too
small to be an
esquire or a knight, too weak to work, and
not deformed enough to be court jester.
He always came at meal-times and to bed;
so his mother made no complaint or com-
pliment: she set little store by Peter, for
he could never go to war and win an estate
in some far country, nor have a large stone
sarcophagus in the abbey when he died.
And, dreaming in the fence-corner, he
pondered much on many questions that
people having more to do had less time
to consider.
As he dreamed he heard a piteous
voice wailing, "Woe is me! Woe is
me!" and, clambering to the fence-top,
saw a tall and handsome lad sighing
along the road, his features stained with
dusty tears. ..
Why say you whoa' ? asked Peter.
"You go slow enough now."
"Alas, it is not that sort of woe!" I
wailed the youth; "I am in love! ,'
"And that seems passing strange, fair
sir! I thought that love did always make
one happy!"
The stranger paused and looked curiously at
the weazened figure on the fence.
"You must be very young," he said simply.

"Not too young to have seen many in love,
fair sir; yet none that I have known have ever
suffered in this strange way."
"But I am a poet, alack! "
"Indeed? And pray, what strange thing.
may a poet be that to him love brings tears,
and joy sorrow ? "
"I write verses on the merry seasons, on the
sweet passion of love, on birds and bees and
meadow-flowers in their time: but the seasons
shortly pass away, and love is but a fair, false


dream; birds and bees fly away erelong, or
perish quickly, and the loveliest flowers the
soonest fade."


"You don't say? Why, that is too bad, in-
deed !" exclaimed Little Peter. "Were you
born that way, fair sir? "
"Born what way, child? "
"Why, to this tearsome frame of mind? I
did never see one who took this same sad
pleasure in being sorrowful.
There, there," continued Little Peter. "It
must, indeed, be rooted deep within your ribs,
sir, to anguish you so! My mother makes a
famous herb tea for the heartburn; perhaps
that would do you good. And is this maid so
delightsome that your queer poet's mind can
do nothing but weep ?"
Ah, deary me I She is sweet as a morn in
spring, as bright as the summer noon, as tender
as the fading day of fall. She is my light, my
love, my life-with her I live; without, I
die !"
"Yes, but my brother Giles raved much as
you, and when he brought her home she was but
an every-day lass. And if you love this maiden
so, why not go get her, instead of wandering
about country lanes mildewing your velvet coat
with tears ?"
Ah, boy, you little understand the world. I
am a poet, and she-she is a princess," and his
tears flowed again.
"A princess? Well, what hindereth that?
I have spelled it in the leather tome upon my
uncle's desk that Noe maiden, however sweete
and faire, is worth more than brave heart.'"
But listen to the deeds that must be done
to win her. Upon the Fatal Isle there is a
bush whose golden berries hang unpicked, a
book unwritten, and a stone unmoved. He
who would wed the princess must pick the ber-
ries, write his name in the book, and move the
stone from where it stands. Many go, but none
come back; for on the gloomy isle there dwells
a fearsome giant, and whosoever fights him
dies. Thus comes the gruesome name, the
Fatal Isle."
Then Little Peter mused deeply a moment.
"And all for a woman's smile," quoth he.
"Truly, what simpletons men do be I would
not pinch my smallest finger for forty smiles,-
else there were a bowl of bread and milk or
honey with them."
"But stay, there is a kingdom, a treasure, an

army, a stable of Arab steeds, and a grand
store of books also in the game."
Oh, crickets! That were a prize worth the
winning! What say you, sir,-go we together
to win it ? "
"With you? Ha, ha, ha And pray, grass-
hopper, what can you do for a giant? "
"The raindrops run the river the toad in
the little hole was not hurt when the house fell.
Go we in partnership, and I '11 take care of the
giant, never fear. Show me but the island, and
you shall have your princess, faint heart -and
as to how, there are many sensible things
which poets do not know. Mind you your part:
leave me mine. Do we go ? "
"With all my heart. Lead on."
Then down into the road leaped Little Pe-
ter and struck out at a good round pace, his
shrewd gray eye flashing with a new fire.
And what wild scheme of derring-do may
be your plan ?" inquired the youth.
"Your questions are yours to do with as
you please," answered Peter. My plan is
mine, and I propose to keep it. Recipes for
the killing of giants do not come so cheap as to
be given away for the asking. And more, fair
sir, do you not cease your woeful sighing, shrive
me but I '11 trip the heels of you into the next
mud-hole we find!"
At that the poet put on a brave smile and
laid aside his gloom, while Little Peter took on
a new dignity that well became him, and held
his peace. And so they went on right merrily
until the sea was reached, with the Fatal Isle,
the giant's castle, and the ghastly bone-strewn
beach in sight; whereat the poet set to shaking
like a leaf, but Peter waxed more eager than

BRAVELY accoutred with small sword and
buckler, buskins and shining helm of steel, Lit-
tle Peter rowed right manfully to the Fatal Isle,
while the fainting poet hied himself away to the
ancient inn that stood hard by, and sought to
drown his doubts in thimblefuls of mulberry
At wading distance from the shore, Little
Peter leaped from the dory, and pulling a stop-
ple from its bottom, speedily sunk it from sight,



that the giant might not find and destroy it, and
so pen him up on the desolate place.
Then he strode up the beach, crying at the
top of his lungs, "What ho! What ho! Come
forth that I may do thee battle! but the
sound of a huge mouth-harp, on which the
lonely Colossus whiled away the weary days
between fights, was all his answer. Again he

"Hullo, Toddlekins!" he roared. "What
game is this the babies play, since men are all
gone coward? "
"Toddlekins indeed!" cried Little Peter.
Harken, thou caitiff!-thou art too loud, of
mouth for courtesy. Draw and defend thyself,
ere I lay thee upon these bone-strewn sands!"
With which he made such a sudden assault

Y 4
a VF


- I :I).
.t.~ i!



lifted up his voice defiantly, and beat upon his
shield with a vim. With a tremendous crash,
the moldy drawbridge fell, and the rusty port-
cullis flew up with a shriek. Out rushed the
giant, so blind with rage that he had nearly
stepped upon Peter and smashed him flat be-
fore the fight commenced. Round the castle
he foamed, through the chicken-yard, and over
the moat with a mighty bound, fat though
he was. "Adzooks! puffed he, panting on
the lawn. Methought I heard a hail. 'T is
strange, 't is passing strange Then he spied
Peter, standing his ground sturdily, and stared
at the little fellow in stupid amazement.

upon the giant's fat legs, that Buncome-for
this was his name-roared with startled anger,
and sweeping his immense sword all about,
smashed two tall trees, and demolished the
whole side of his summer kitchen. Peter
adroitly evaded the blow; but it was so rapidly
followed by a ceaseless shower of flail-like
swoops that he barely saved his little self from
being swept into the ocean or scattered about
the beach. Furious at his repeated failures to
crush the audacious mite, the burly Buncome
seized a mighty shovel standing by, and, scoop-
ing up a sandy space and Little Peter with it,
with one mighty thrust he made ready to throw

018~~ u


the whole far out into the sea; when Peter, see- the women all exclaim, There goes Buncome,
ing that all was up if he did not speak in haste, the baby-butcher!' Why, your name will become
shouted, Hold, lubber knight, for I yield me a laughing-stock in the land, and you, fallen too
to your mercy!" low for decent men to combat, will stay alone
The giant stayed his hand a moment, pant- upon this isle, despised and forgot, until you
ing, Oddsboddikins Why thought you not fatten like a pig in a pen, scant of breath and


on that before? Had you not vexed me so,
I would have had mercy and mashed you most
tenderly; but now I mind me to rend you
limb from limb!"
"And valiant, then, indeed, would be your
tale of killing one so small as I! If that be
what you call bravery, in sooth it was a poor
quality that you chose when you set yourself
up in the hero business. But kill me, and hear

scant of glory, all from being scant of wit.
What fame get you by squashing me ? What
fear you? That I will move a stone four hun-
dred times my weight, or steal berries beneath
your eyes ? "
"Gadzooks Sir Spiderlegs, those be large
thoughts for a little head! You shall be my
serf. Yet where shall I keep you?"
"Chain me to your leg," said Little Peter;


"then I shall be always with you to give you
good advice."
By my halidom, Toddlekins, you are right
and sb shall I tether thee."
Next day, the breakfast platters cleaned, and
the beans put to soaking for dinner, the huge
giant and Little Peter set out upon their rounds.
Tied by the giant's key-chain to Buncome's
leg, the small prisoner had a lively time keep-
ing up with Buncome's stride; but, though the
day was hot, so stupendous was the bulk of
the man-mountain that Peter, beneath, ran all
the while in perfect shade. Indeed, Buncome
could not see his little slave at all unless the
tether was stretched to its- utmost, and Little
Peter was in high glee, for all his plans were
working finely.
Reaching the bush that bore the golden ber-
ries, with much scratching of his dull head Bun-
come managed to count the precious bits upon
his fingers, to see that none were stolen in the
night. They were all
there. But, as he
straightened up to scan
the horizon for strange
sails, Little Peter cau-
tiously pulled a small
pan from under his
doublet, and began to
pick the berries as fast
as his pudgy fingers
could fly. Noiselessly
they dropped into the
"Ho, ho What are
you up to down there ?"
said the giant, in tones
that shook the hill.
"The midgets bother i t-4
me so that I have to my
drive them off with my '_
chain," answered Peter,
and Buncome was too
close to the bush to
see it over his huge HOLD, LUBBER KNIGHT !
paunch when he looked
down; so all the berries were soon picked. Then
from his pocket Peter pulled a paper of brass but-
tons and stuck them on the bare branches, where
they glittered finely in the sun; so that when

the giant glanced back from his path, the bush
seemed to bear even more berries than usual,
and he went on chuckling at his faithfulness.
Just beyond the hill was the antique, carven,
rocky niche in which the great book of empty
pages had for years awaited the name of the
hero who never came. Down plumped Bun-

, -- ---- -- -,


come on his stalwart knees to examine the
leaves, whereat Peter had to fly to the length
of his chain to keep from under the crush.
The sheets were fair as the driven snow, with-



out line, or mark, or blot. And then the giant
swept the horizon with his spy-glass, that no ad-
venturer might come too close to land. That
was Peter's opportunity. He nimbly hopped
to Buncome's boot, and clambered to the high
desk. Pulling the deep-rusted pen from the
clotted ink-well, he scrawled his name in brave
characters across the page, turned a few leaves
over upon it, and clambered down again just as
the giant hurried on.
The rock that figured in the task lay full
two miles down the coast, and Buncome ran
the entire way. Had Peter not clung des-
perately to the giant's spur, he would have been
jerked to pieces in a little while, or trampled
under foot. Good lack!" he gasped, when at
last the giant sat him down upon the stone to
breathe, "if thou dost run this awful twenty
mile each day, good master, then thou art
duller than I dreamed. A pinch of wit would
save you this weary task. You can lift this
great rock with ease; take it on your broad
back, untether me that I may keep good
watch for you, and carry the rock home and
safely down your own big cellar. No knight
could find or move it there, I ween, with you
at hand all day; nor would this dreary score
of miles be necessary more."
"By my breath, babykin, you have a head
like the king's counselor. Where got you it?"
It was a birthday present, if you must needs
know. But hoist you the rock, and get we
home, that dinner may not wait."
The towering castle reached, Peter pre-
tended to turn in haste to the dinner, while
the giant sprung the great bolts of the cellar
trap, threw open the massive door, and, load-
ing the rock upon his shoulders, stepped down
the steep, dark stairs. No sooner was his head
beneath the floor than Peter sprang to the hatch,
slammed down the mighty door, slid to the
ponderous beams with all his strength, turned
the key in the lock, and with a mocking laugh
of triumph sat him down to dine.
Three days, three nights the hungry giant
howled and raved amid the dark and damp,
which made him sore afraid. Then, his appe-
tite proving greater than his ardor, he surren-
dered with good grace, and was set free, humble
and steadfast to the terms of his release. Three

days and three nights he ate all he wanted;
then he turned the keys over to Little Peter,
and scurried away to a far country where his
prowess would noc be damaged by reports of
his ignominious defeat.
Then Peter rowed right proudly back to join
the weeping poet, who was wild with delight
at winning the princess even so ingloriously
as by proxy of a dwarf. "Such is the blind
and eager egotism of them that be in love,"
thought Little Peter.
But soon again the sad poet began to wail.
" Alas! I fear that, having won the kingdom
and the princess, you will keep them both, and
nevermore shall I have hope to win my love."
"A fever on your foolishness! Be this a
poet's nature, to doubt a man of honor, to
make a bear of a bugaboo, to weep for lack of
else to do, I would liever be a dullard dolt!
And faith, I do not want your princess. And
should I, she would not have me, weak and
stunted as I am, though a giant-conqueror.
Give me the kingdom, keep your princess."
"But, alas! mayhap the king will hear of
no such parceling of his daughter from hand
to hand when the winner will not have her."
"Oh, fie! Why swim afore you even see
water? Be poets' heads so dull they borrow
all their ideas ?"
Then onward they hurried to the palace of
the king.

OUTSIDE the lofty court, the poet, under
Peter's orders, transformed himself into a
wretched-looking wight, ill-clad and homely.
And, thus disguised, he played esquire to Peter,
for Peter must needs have an attendant, as
all knights have when cutting a dash before
But good King Boli-Boli was loath to believe
the tale. He sent a messenger in haste, and
lo! the rock was gone, the berries were gone,
the giant was gone, the castle was locked, and
a name was written in the book. Yet still was
the king loath to give the princess, Sunbeam,
to the stunted stranger. Forsooth," said he,
"it was some great knight did this, whom
roads have long delayed. Ye are but impos-
tors come to steal the prize."



Then waxed Little Peter wroth. Taunt us
not," he boldly cried to the king's very teeth,
"or we will leave you as we left your craven
giant! Here are the berries. Here is the key
of the castle, with your royal seal and signet
set upon it. Come, fetch us the princess; we
have no time to waste in cavil."
The king was taken with this bold talk, for
he was himself a warlike man. Truly, these
are the proofs; and while I marvel, I must fain be-


father, tell me not this is the man whom I
must wed!"
"Silence, daughter! Affront not a greater
than all my kingdom knows- who dared his
life for your hand. What I promise I perform.
Strange sir, here is my daughter -"
Oh, Father, I cannot! Oh, sir, have pity!"
she cried, turning to Little Peter-" have pity,
when my father will have none!"
"Sweet maiden," said Little Peter, "pray
let me have one word with thee apart."
"Sir," she sobbed, "I have but one
word for thee: I love another,
a poet, and as handsome
a youth as thou art not;
Keep me not to this


lieve my eyes. My daughter and the kingdom
are yours, brave sir. Go call the princess, page."
Like the sunrise on a perfect day, she came:
so fair that Little Peter's heart, which faltered
not at giants, stood stock-still. "And yet," he
mused, "a father would give her for a paltry
But when the princess looked upon his strange
figure, she shook and paled with fright, and,
turning to her father, faltered pleadingly, Oh,

promise, for it is the poet Azair that I love, and
none other can I wed."
At this declaration, Little Peter's scarecrow
squire leaped in air joyfully, and snapped his
stained fingers in an ecstasy.
"Marry, sir, what ails your squire ?" said
the king.
Ho! he doth scribble verse, and hankers.for
a princess's smile." Then rose Little Peter to his
tiptoes, and whispered low into the princess's



ear. What he said she never told; but, blush-
ing sweetly, she smiled with joy, and replying,
"That I will," ran to her room, laughing.
Little Peter gazed an instant after her, and
spoke: "To-morrow I will claim my bride, 0
king. Falter not at any change, however
great, but give her to the man who here pre-
sents this ribbon which she just now gave me
as a plight of troth. I go to register my king-
dom with the keeper of the seals. To-morrow
you shall see her ready to my throne as sum-
mer sun to shine."
So :saying, Little Peter withdrew, and saw
the king and princess no more. He had won
his kingdom, and rested his ambition there.
"'Little Great-Heart' men will call you
from this day on forever!" sang the poet.
"Ah," said Little Peter, "this 'forever' of
men's is a strange eternity, fair sir. They end
it often when they change their coats. Yet I
have touched a woman's heart with kindness,
and there will I live forever. Fare thee well--
leave your tearful poesy, and be happy."
Bright and early, when the sun rose on the
coming morrow, the poet, brave in his best
suit, and bearing gaily the ribbon of his love,
was at the court ere yet the sleepy scullions
had washed the dishes from the breakfast of

the king. Though the monarch did marvel
much at the wondrous change that seemed so
quickly wrought, he said nothing, not he,-
for right .glad he was to have his son-in-law so
handsome. .
As for the princess, she was all gladness, and
grew lovelier every day, till people came for
miles to see the house in which she lived, al-
though she had long since moved into another
dwelling to avoid them. The pilgrims knew no
better, and it did just as well.
The old king abdicated in favor of his son-
in-law, and the young couple were enthroned
amid the rejoicings of their subjects.
And Little Peter, or Little Great-Heart, as
all loved to call him, took all his poor rela-
tions to his far kingdom, and gave them high
offices; hence he did all the work himself, as
they were prodigies of indolence. His people
loved him so that when he told them there
was nothing else for them to want, they be-
lieved him, wanted nothing, and so were
happy-so happy that they gave up all com-
munication with the outer world; and some
day, far away, the lost kingdom of Little Great-
Heart may yet be found, with the people all
very, very happy, and Little Peter still reigning
over them.



I 'M glad that I 'm a little lad,
And not a pussy-cat;
And sometimes when I 'm feeling sad,
Things do not really seem so bad
If I just think of that.



[Begun in the November number.]



THE hindmost of
the black spearmen
were disappearing
among the trees, and
it seemed almost safe
for the boys to begin
to lead their horses
onward; but neither
of them mounted
until they had worked their way through the
woods for .about one more mile. They both
looked and talked courageously enough, but
they cast quick glances behind them.
They had not been followed, as yet, and for
very good reasons. Ka-kak-kia's enemies did
not know there were any white fellows," young
or old, to follow, and were thinking only of
killing him. After his friends heard the noise
and came to help him, both parties in the fight
had quite enough to think of, and so Ned and
Hugh were entirely safe for the time being -
and no longer. It was therefore well for the
boys that Ka-kak-kia had fallen into difficul-
ties, but there had been no limit to the rage
of his own squad of black hunters when the
work he had left them at was interrupted. All
five of them had obeyed his orders eagerly.
They brought the two kangaroos in from the
prairie to the very spot from which Ned and
Hugh had watched the throwing of the boom-
erangs. One of them carried, among his col-
lection of sticks, a long piece of wood which
smoked a little and which smelled very badly.
It was split at one end, and the split contained
a bunch of leaves. While the others were skin-
ning a kangaroo (for there was no time to dig
a hole in the ground and roast it in their usual
way), this warrior was whirling that stick swiftly
around his head with one hand, and picking up
bits of dry wood and bark and moss with the

other. Suddenly a tongue of fire sprang out
among the bunch of leaves in the split; for it
was a fire-stick," such as the black men carry
on all their expeditions. In a moment more,
the heap of dry fragments which he had gath-
ered had been puffed and fanned into a blaze.
The fire danced up merrily, and the pleasant
odor of kangaroo venison was soon spread
through the hot December air, when suddenly
they all turned their heads toward the forest,
as if startled.
To the ears of a white man there would have
been only silence, or that hum of insects, the
murmur of the forest, which is almost silence;
but to their quicker senses there came an au-
dible warning. Faint and far away at first, but
drawing rapidly nearer, were the sounds of the
skirmish between Ka-kak-kia and his pursuers.
It was a dreadful thing to have to drop cook-
ery and kangaroo meat, and to pick up spears,
and throw-sticks, and shields, and waddy-clubs,
and tomahawks, and boomerangs, but there was
no help for it. Each man stuck down his twig
of meat so that it would cook while he was
gone, caught up his heap of weapons, and
darted away into the forest.
If there was reluctance to leave the fire, there
was also cunning and caution in the manner of
their advance toward the skirmish-line. The
nearer they arrived, the clearer grew the shouts
and yells, but the more silent they became; and
more like snakes in the grass, or crouching,
creeping wild animals, did they push on. They
might possibly have continued to keep still until
Ka-kak-kia could retreat among them, if it had
not been for a rash forward rush made by one
of the enemy. He made the mistake of dis-
playing himself, and instantly the short, withered
fellow who had scouted through the grass to
find the boys, stepped out from behind a tree,
and quivered a spear in the socket of his throw-
stick. Then it sped. Down went the too reck-
less foeman, and all the secrecy of the arrival of


Ka-kak-kia's friends vanished in a wild storm of
savage outcries on both sides.
There was no attempt made by either party
at a hand-to-hand encounter. One side knew
that it was altogether too weak in numbers, and
wanted to get away, while the other did not
know how large a majority it had, and was
afraid to risk too much. So the queer skirmish
of insulting shouts, and fierce gestures, and bran-
dished spears raged among the trunks and
bushes and underbrush, until a mile and a half
had been slowly traversed. Nearly half the
distance had been covered before the speared
warrior fell. After that, spears and clubs went
back and forth, and were in a manner exchanged;
but both sides were experts in parrying, and
nobody seemed to be hurt. There were, in-
deed, a few cuts and bruises here and there,
but nothing that an Australian savage would
consider worth noticing. Even the speared
man seemed to care very little for the wound in
his shoulder after the weapon had been broken
off and pulled out. It was, doubtless, unpleas-
ant to be disabled, but the shoulder would heal
up again, and the man be as ready as ever tb
throw spears and dodge and parry. His friends
felt as he did about it, and wasted no sympathy
upon him.
Back, back, carefully concealing their real
number, the smaller body fought and retreated
toward their fire. Around the blaze the five
sticks still stood, each holding out a steak, by
this time well done, and ready to be eaten.
Both parties 9f blacks could now smell the
fragrance from that wild cookery, for a light
breeze wafted it into the woods, and they all
fought the harder and yelled the louder. They
shook their spears more furiously, and hurled
them farther.
The skirmish, which had so unexpectedly be-
gun with the first appearance of Ka-kak-kia on
the trail, had now risen to the dignity of a great
battle for a hot dinner; but the table-chances
looked dark for the hunters who had actually
stalked and killed the two kangaroos. They
were forced to give ground, and when they
did make a desperate charge toward the fire,
it was too late for them to capture anything
more than the fire and the very large, freshly
killed kangaroo left behind, untouched, by

Ka-kak-kia's fellows. That, however, was pre-
cisely such a war-prize as suited them just
then, better than anything else. Anybody,
black or white, whom they might otherwise
have chased and speared was entirely safe so
long as an uneaten morsel of that kangaroo
should remain.
Meanwhile, no one knew anything about the
red-bearded cave-man. Yet he was a very im-
portant member of the meager population of
that forest. He was, indeed, entirely unaware
that there was any other population except such
as might be following him through the moun-
tains. He was as yet several miles away from
his cave-home, and was plodding steadily nearer,
but Nig was giving tokens that he had traveled
far under a pretty heavy load. Just now, how-
ever, the cave-man seemed to be thinking about
finding some halting-place.
"They are after me," he said aloud, "and
not far behind now. The robbers! What
would n't they do to get Nig's pack! They
sha'n't get it, though. Not an ounce of it.
I don't care to have to shoot any of them,
but they ought to be shot. They 're coming;
I feel sure of it!"
Then he studied the trees near him, seem-
ing to recognize certain marks upon some of
I 'm pretty close to it now," he said. "I '11
beat them this time "; and a few minutes later
he exclaimed, Here it is! "
It was not another tree, but a swift, deep-look-
ing stream of water, and he halted upon its bank.
Off came the burden from the horse. The first
part of it was a great cowhide, strung together
at the edges with thongs, so as to make a pan-
nier of it. It came down upon the grass, and
was quickly ripped open. It had been a re-
markably heavy pannier; much heavier than
one strong man could lift. Its contents were a
number of small bags, some of leather and some
of canvas. He picked them up, one after an-
other, and carefully dropped them into the water,
a few feet out from the bank.
"It is only about two feet deep," he said,
"but it will hide them."
As soon as this secret work was completed,
he took off Nig's saddle and bridle, and led him
some distance into the woods,



I 've got to move quickly," he said. They
are close behind me. There it is. Now!"
This time, what he was looking for and had
found was a large tree, the upper half of which
had somehow been knocked off, so that a vast
stump was left, more than fifty feet high. At
that elevation, moreover, its branches were enor-
mous, and it seemed to send them out all the
more widely because of having no higher "top"
to feed and carry.
Saddle, and bridle, and rifle, and some other
things were made into a pack, and that pack
was securely fastened to one end of the same
long, braided rope-cord with which he had
pulled up his water-pail and lassoed the ostrich-
like emu at the ledge near his cave. He put a
stone at the other end, this time, instead of a
noose; and then he skilfully threw that stone
over one of the lower branches of the tremen-
dous tree-stump.
"That's safe," he said. "I can haul them
up. Come, Nig, old fellow!"
The horse, which had carried him and his
treasure so well, had now enjoyed a long drink
of water. He had thrown off much of his over-
wearied appearance, and was busily nibbling
grass. The bare feet of the cave-man left no
mark, but Nig's hoofs did, when the horse was
taken by the forelock and led away from the
foot of the stump. He did not have to go far
before he was turned loose and left to himself.
"There, Nig," said his master, "you may
take care of yourself, for a while. I hope they
won't steal you, but I suppose I have only a few
minutes to spare, now."
Not far from the spot where he parted from
his horse there hung a ragged and tangled but
strong-looking kind of vine, dangling down from
the limb of a tree, and he ran to it at once. He
must have been a sailor or a monkey, or else
he had taken lessons from sailors or monkeys -
or from blackfellows. He clambered up that
swinging vine with a swiftness which proved
the strength of his arms. Once in the tree, he
went from branch to branch with an agility like
that of the black boy who was now a prisoner
in Sir Frederick's camp.
There were dangerous feats to be performed,
at perilous heights from the earth, before the
cave-man was able to swing himself upon a

projecting bough of the great stump. In an-
other minute he was astride of the branch which
had caught and held his rope-cord, and he was
pulling up his precious package, rifle and all.
I 'm safe enough, now," he exclaimed, as
he clambered cautiously back with it to the
huge remnant of the tree-trunk. "They won't
guess that I am up here."
The summit of the stump was somewhat rot-
ten, as well as broken off, and there was a hol-
low there more than six feet wide, and nearly as
many deep. It was a capital place for a koala,
or an eagle, or a runaway savage, to make a
hidden nest in. The cave-man was neither the
one nor the other, but there he sat, peering over
the edge, when no less than six men on horse-
back rode up. As they came along, they seemed
to be searching watchfully in all directions.
They halted at the foot of the stump.
"His trail is plain," remarked one of them.
"These hoof-marks are fresh," replied an-
other. "They lead along here. He is n't far
away, now."
"We 've got him! exclaimed a third.
The tracks of Nig's heavy hoofs did indeed
lead away from that tree, and on pushed the six
horsemen; but in a minute or so they broke out
into a chorus of astonished and angry exclama-
tions. They had found the saddleless quad-
ruped, feeding contentedly, while the master
and his precious burden had mysteriously
vanished. The clear trail which they had fol-
lowed so far and so hopefully had at last run
out; and back they came, bewildered, arguing,
perspiring, to the foot of the stump. There they
all dismounted and sat down.
His hidin'-place is n't far from this, any-
how," remarked one of them. "He has quit
his horse."
"Just so," said another, "and he can't get
away from us. But what has he done with his
nuggets ? "
"They're somewhere nigh to this," said
a third, confidently. "We 're all right, boys.
Let's take a good rest, and eat something. All
the stuff he washed out of his placer-gulch is
just waiting for us to hunt it up and take it."
They all said more or less about being tired
and hungry. A fire was quickly kindled, and a
kettle put upon it, in a way that showed how


accustomed they were to camping in the woods.
More than half a hundred feet above their heads,
the cave-man looked cautiously over, now and
then, and he even chuckled almost aloud as he
made remarks to himself concerning the perfect
security of the manner in which he had hidden
the heavy bags.
That part of the Australian bush was becom-
ing somewhat peopled, although not exactly
" settled." The area within which all its known
inhabitants, black and white, savage and civil-
ized, had been gathered, was very narrow, how-
ever-a mere patch in the great wilderness.

Perhaps the top and the bottom of human
society were fairly represented around the camp-
fires of Sir Frederick Parry and of the black
chief Ka-kak-kia.
For a long time Hugh and Ned had been
only too ready for supper, but it was getting
late before they dared take the risk of halting
to cook. They had mounted their horses, after
setting out from the scene of the skirmish, but
it would not do to ride fast, for heat and thirst
and travel were telling upon the poor animals.
The boys felt a pretty strong assurance that
they were not being pursued, just now, and


They were near together, but were very much
in the dark about one another. They might
actually meet on the morrow, and every heart
among them was beating with hope, or with
dread, concerning that possible meeting.


THERE were several very extraordinary picnics
at the same hour and in the same forest. They
were only a few miles apart from each other, but
no one party knew anything about the others.

that they would not be until after the rival
bands of blackfellows should have completely
settled whatever difficulties there might be
between them.
"I wish they'd exterminate each other," said
Ned, as they rode along.
"That's what they'd like to do," said Hugh.
The more they thought and talked about
savages, the more they also thought and talked
about the excursion party from the Grampians,
and of the danger into which it was likely to
fall. The great, gloomy forest seemed to grow
darker, as they shivered over the cruel idea of


an attack by cannibals upon the camp they had
left. They felt blue and tired, and almost sick
at heart.
At that moment Ned's horse uttered a low,
faint whinny.
Hugh's horse replied to him a little more
loudly, and they both walked onward with a
quickened movement.
"I say, Ned," exclaimed Hugh, "do you
suppose a horse could really sniff water, if we
were getting near it ?"
"I 've heard that they could," said Ned.
"Maybe it is so. Hark! Hurrah! Do you
hear that ?"
The sound which the boys now heard was
a pleasant, musical murmur into which the roar
of heavily falling water dwindled on being sifted
and softened through a half mile of forest. Ned
and Hugh were, indeed, going farther from the
camp of Sir Frederick Parry with every step,
but, at the same time, they were drawing nearer
to a great bend of the same stream in which he
had caught his fish.
The forest grew more open as the eager ani-
mals hurried forward; and the sound of the
falling water became more distinct. It was not
long before the boys broke out into husky
cheers, that were followed by expressions of
wonder. The mighty torrent plunged down
a precipice of nearly a hundred feet, broken
half-way by a projecting ledge, so that the
water reached the tumbling pool below in a
great storm of foam. There was a capital
place, at the level edge of the great swirl, for
a horse to put down his head, or for a boy to
dip a cup, and they all made directly for that
Now," remarked Hugh, I don't believe the
blackfellows are after us. Let 's make a fire
and have supper."
Ned was already looking around and picking
up dry wood. There was plenty of it. In a few
minutes a fire was blazing, not far from the pool,
and the tired horses, unsaddled, were picking
at the grass, while their masters were broiling
slices of fat and tender kangaroo venison.
Dinner, or supper, was over in the camp of
Sir Frederick Parry, a few miles further down
stream, and there was not one happy person in
that camp.
VOL. XX.- 18.

The white people were unhappy because:
they did not know where they were; they
did not know what had become of Ned and
Hugh; they knew there were savages in the
woods, and were uncertain what to do next.
The black boy was unhappy; chiefly because
he was tied to a sapling near the water's edge,
for fear he might get away and tell older black-
fellows about the camp.
Yip and the other dogs were uneasy con-
cerning the black boy, and they came frequently,
as if to make sure that he was there.
He cannot get away while they are watch-
ing him," said Sir Frederick.
Of course he can't, sir," replied Bob Mc-
Cracken, confidently.
But he had been tied by white men, and he
was a bushboy. He seemed to be quiet enough,
except his eyes, which were dancing in all direc-
tions. There came a moment, however, when
his quick glances told him that no other eyes
were upon him. He must already have been
working at his cord fetters, for in a twinkling
he was down flat upon the grass.
"Yip Yip! Yip! yelped the large, woolly
dog, a few seconds later, as he came bounding
across from the other side of the camp, followed
by the two hounds.
"Where is that black boy? suddenly shouted
Marsh, the mule-driver.
Where is he ? echoed Sir Frederick. You
don't mean he is loose ? "
"He 's gone! roared Bob.
"Oh, dear me!" exclaimed Lady Parry.
" Now they will all know we are here! They
will find the boys, too!"
"Aunt Maude! said Helen, "we must hunt
for them till we find them "
There was a general rush to the spot where
the black boy had been tied, but he was not
there, and Yip and the hounds were snuffing
furiously along the bank of the river.
He 's not in the water, sir," said Bob, as he
and the rest stared eagerly out at every bubble
on the surface.
There were not many bubbles to be seen, but
a large tuft of grass and green leaves was float-
ing down stream, not many yards below.
Sir Frederick dashed on along the bank, fol-
lowed by his dogs and men, but they saw no


sign of any swimmer. They knew that even a
black boy would have to come up to breathe;
that is, if he were really under the water.
He did not have to come up to breathe,
however, because he was up all the while,
breathing as usual, but with grass over his face,
just as all his people breathe when they swim
out to catch black swans and other waterfowl
by the legs and pull them under. The tuft of
grass floated down until the dogs and men went
away beyond it, and then it came ashore in
some bushes. Soon, while the search along the
bank continued, a poor little black boy, robbed
by rich white men of his club and spear and all
his other sticks, darted swiftly away into the

Ka-kak-kia and his five friends, across the
prairie beyond the tall cabbage-palm, were
compelled to finish their dinner too quickly for
comfort. But they knew, as well as if they
had seen it, what the other band of blackfellows
were doing. They knew they were roasting the
other kangaroo, and it helped them decide what
they themselves ought to do. While their ene-
mies were roasting and eating so large a kan-
garoo, there would be time for them to escape
entirely, and to follow the two horses and the
two white fellows from whose trail their chief
had been driven. They picked up their sticks
and went off through the woods. They avoided
the prairie, making a circuit around it; and be-
fore dark the short, thin, ugly-headed fellow,
who had played scout at the beginning, uttered
a sharp, fierce yell. He had found the hoof-
marks of the horses, and Ned and Hugh once
more had black enemies on their trail.

The bearded cave-man did not have any
dinner to eat. He had nothing to do but
to sit in the hollow of the big stump, and be
It was a very remarkable hollow. Upon a
more critical examination it showed proofs of
having been partly scooped out by human hands.
Fires had burned in it. There were even a few
scattered bones, to prove that meat had been
cooked by its occupants. There was really
hiding-room in it for half a dozen men, if they
did not mind being crowded somewhat when


it was time for sleeping. Its present tenant
showed no signs of being sleepy, but rather of
an intention to sit up all night.
The six men who were camped at the foot
of the tree had not come upon so long an errand
without making very complete provision for it.
They did not intend to starve, if the loads car-
ried by two led horses would feed them. They
made coffee and they fried bacon, and they ate,
and all the while they chatted freely concerning
what they expected to find.
"You see, boys," said the man they called
Jim, a runaway convict dares n't ever show
his face again. Besides, this chap 's done a heap
of things to answer for, since he took to the
Nobody '11 ever care what we do to him,"
remarked the man they called Bill.
"He had washed all the dust out of that
gulch, though," said Jim; and he won't ever
come back to it."
"That 's so," said another; "but we know
he's carried away all his nuggets out here. All
we've got to do is to find them. We did make
one pretty good haul out of his pile already."
Come on, boys," exclaimed Bill, getting up
as if that thought started him. We can cast
around a good deal before dark, and we can
begin again fresh to-morrow."
They consulted for a minute or so as to how
they should search, and then scattered among
the woods in several directions.
"They have gone a-hunting after me, have
they?" said the man in the tree up above them.
"They are going to rob me, are they? Well
now, I '11 see about that. Meanwhile I want
some coffee."
The searchers were already out of sight, and
they had left their big tin coffee-pot, more than
half full, standing before the fire. There it stood,
simmering pleasantly, and sending up a steamy
odor of coffee to mingle with the resinous,
balmy breath which pervaded the woods. It
was now almost dark.
Something like a very long and slender and
flexible vine came gently swinging down through
the sultry air. This ropy thread drooped gently,
and swung slowly back and forth until a noose
at the end of it took in the comfortable coffee-
pot, just under its nose and handle.


"I 've got it!" came in a sharp whisper
from a form that reached out over the top-
most edge of the stump. I 've got it! "
The noose drew tight, and the coffee-pot
arose as if it had been a kind of tin bird with-
out wings; it swung upward swiftly, steadily,
silently, until it reached the place from which
that exultant whisper had come. Then it was
grasped by the hand of the cave-man, and in
half a minute more he was safe in his hollow,
drinking hot coffee out of a small tin cup, which
had hung at his belt.
Good he said. I wish I could fish up
some of their bacon and hardtack, but I can't.
I '11 keep the coffee-pot and carry it home.
Mine is about used up. There they come!"
The approach of dusk had put an end to the
search, and the six rascals were making their
way back to their camp.
Suddenly one of them exclaimed:
"Hullo! Boys, what 's become o' the
coffee-pot? '
Then five astonished voices, on all sides of
him, inquired: "Why, where is it?"
High in the deepening darkness above them
a man, peering over the edge of a tree-hollow,
took a long, refreshing draft from a steaming
tin cup, and said to himself, with a chuckle:
"It has walked away, coffee and all, you
villains! Don't you wish you may get it
again ? "
Suddenly one of the men exclaimed:
Blackfellows! Nobody else could ha' crep'
in and taken it! "
Blackfellows ? We '11 all be speared if we
don't keep a sharp lookout "
They talked it over with occasional shivers,
as they mentioned spears and boomerangs; but
when their talk was over their conclusion came
from Jim.
Boys," he said, our only show is to shoot
'em if we find 'em."
All six agreed to that, but the man in the
tree said to himself:
"The worst thing they could do! Just like
their sort, though. Anyhow, I can't stay here;
and it 's dangerous climbing in the dark. I '11
try it before the fire goes out."
There was as yet a good blaze, sending its
glow quite a distance. Any one near the fire

could not see far into the forest, but one out in
the gloom could profit by the firelight. The
bearded cave-man now had his rifle slung at his
back, so that his hands were free. His coil of
rope-cord was hung over the rifle, and he crept
slowly, carefully, out of his hiding-place, along
the tree-limb.
"This is risky! he muttered. Sure death
if I miss my hold, sure death if they catch a
glimpse of me! I wish they 'd made their
camp somewhere else. Then I could wait
until morning."
As it was, there seemed to be no help for it.
On he crept, until that bough became small and
began to bend. What if it should break ? He
had no help from the firelight, just there, and
he groped anxiously out in the dark.
"I've got it!" he said. "Careful, now,-
here goes!" and soon he was on a limb of an-
other tree, and it was also bending.
It was a fearful undertaking, but he reached
the trunk of that tree and went out on a limb
in the opposite direction.
"This '11 do," he muttered; "I won't try
another change of trees. It can't be more than
thirty or forty feet to the ground. The rest
is easy."
It seemed to be so, to him, but it might have
been difficult for most men. All he did was
to seat himself firmly in a loop that he made at
one end of the rope; put the rest of the rope
over to the other side of the limb he was on,
and gripe it hard; swing off and let himself
down, hand over hand; reach the ground, and
pull down the rope that remained. It was a
regular sailor's-hitch performance, precisely as
if that limb had been a yard of a ship. It
landed him still dangerously near to the camp
at the stump, where five men were now lying
down while one was pacing slowly around as a
Silently and swiftly the cave-man made his
way from tree to tree, still guided for some
time by the firelight. Here and there, as he
groped his course, the forest was open enough
for him to see the stars and the moonlight in
the tree-tops.
"The stars tell me very nearly which way
I 'm going," he said to himself.
The five men who were lying on the ground



around the stump were as yet as wide awake as
was their sentinel. Every now and then, one
of them said something to his mates about
coffee-pots, convicts, bushrangers, police, gold
nuggets, wild blackfellows, boomerangs, and
other matters, which seemed to be keeping him
from going to sleep.

Ned Wentworth and Hugh Parry had not
been lucky enough to secure a coffee-pot, and
they were not where they could borrow one
from any neighbor. In fact, they did not know
that they had any neighbors.
I wish I knew how that fight ended," said
Hugh, and what those blackfellows did after-
"They could n't all have been killed," re-
plied Ned, as he put more wood on the fire.
I guess, though, they all had so much fight
that they won't follow us in the dark. Sha'n't
we keep watch, one at a time ?"
"Of course," said Hugh. "I '11 watch half

the night, and then I '11 wake you and you can
watch the other half."
"Sailor watches are better than that," said
Ned. "It 's nearly eight o'clock now. I '11
keep guard till ten, then you watch till twelve.
That will give us two-hour naps."
All right," declared Hugh, and down he lay,
just as if he expected to go to sleep; but his
eyes remained wide open.
Two hours went by. The roar of the water
began to have something drowsy in it. Ned
sat at the foot of a tree with his double-bar-
reled gun in his lap, and Hugh may have been
almost dreaming. The fire had burned low.
All seemed dull, still, peaceful, and safe, when
suddenly both of the boys sprang to their feet,
"What's that ?"
"Ready, Hugh!" sang out Ned, Ready
with your gun. Here they come!"
Ready!" shouted Hugh. Stand your
ground, Ned! We must fight!"

(To be continued.)


A Ballad of the Orient.

BY H. J. H.

Wherein Polly Cla makes brief mention of the explo-
rations of her Great Grandfather, and of the disastrous
termination of his expedition, about the time of her birth,
giving also some episodes of her early life.

DEAR Edie, now I know
y. you well
S And the discreetness
of your ways,
I have a confidence to
Relating to my early

Although, alas, you see
me now
.' All plucked and in
this sad condition,
You must not think that
I would bow
To any Polly for po-

My parents came of
noble stock,
;l Of pure white plume
and sulphur crest;
''r And I was early taught
,to mock
And screech and chat-
ter from the nest.

My Great Grandfather, old Koko,
Once marshaled all his feathered bands,-
Some twenty score of beaks or so,-
To raid for fruit in foreign lands.

Away! Away! O'er Celebes
And where the cloves and spices grow,

Through pleasant groves of cocoa-trees
He led them on from Borneo.

With plantains and with mangoes sweet,
And nutmegs young by way of spice,
They had provision quite complete
(Without destroying growing rice).

But tamarinds and cocoanuts
That grow in plenty on the trees
Surrounding the Malayan huts,
They eat or ruined most of these.

And it is much to Koko's praise
That, safe from snares and cunning wiles,
He led them south for many days
Among the Australasian Isles.

In sooth he was a skilful chief,
And had his famous name to lose,
As well as -if they came to grief-
Four hundred crested cockatoos.

To Bali town he led them now,
And passed where lofty Lombock stood,
And neathh Sumbawa's craggy brow
Down to the Isle of Sandalwood.

And then southeast o'er sea they passed,
And arid plains where water fails,
Till, wearied out with travel fast,
They reached the land of New South Wales.

But here they left their leader dead-
Black ruffians through the forest sprang:
Old Koko's crest was dyed with red,
Struck by the flying boomerang!

Oh! 't was a cruel sight to see ','
The shocking fate of Grandpapa! \ $
That boomerang brought grief to me,
And trouble sore to dear Mama.



She was not with the army, so
An aide-de-camp was soon despatched,
Who brought the news to Borneo
About the time that I was hatched.

I heard her screeches in the egg,-
How it could be I cannot tell,-
As, nestled warm beneath her leg,
Her cry of anguish pierced my shell.

The next thing that I recollect,
And that is painful to relate,
Ere I could barely stand erect,
A sad adventure sealed my fate.

Mama had gone to preen her crest
And get some breakfast for her dear,
When, looking up above the nest,
I saw a round black head appear.

Two eager eyes were shining bright-
I well recall the look they wore;
With sudden hand he seized me tight,
That naughty little blackamore!

He took me to his dirty hut,
And clipt me lest I 'd fly away;
He gave me rice and cocoanut,
And tried to make me talk Malay.

I lived there till some Dyak men
. Destruction to our village brought.
The sad events that happened then
Demand a little time for thought.

My shadow straight beneath my feet
Reminds me that the day is high.
With rest and-something nice to eat,
I might continue by and by.

Referring to the marriage of Polly Cla and the mel-
ancholy fate of her husband-with her resolve there-
THE cruel Dyaks swept along,
Committing deeds of carnage dire,-
A savage band five hundred strong;
Our forest glades were red with fire!

I now was free -the hut was burned -
And all our people fled in haste;
Whichever way my gaze was turned,
The spoiled land was sad and waste!


The sweets of liberty, 't is said,
Excel the joys of pampered slaves;
But to be free and badly fed
Is only sweet to one who raves.

I struggled hard my food to win
Of blackened bits and odds and ends;
The cinder-heaps I found them in
Were once the houses of my friends.

My wings were stiff from want of use,
I flew with feeble flight and slow,
Which furnished me with some excuse
For further stay in Borneo.

But soon I left that hated shore
To wander free in southern lands,
Where loved to roam in years before
Old Koko and his raiding bands.

I wandered far, by fancy led;
My star was high, my heart was free;
I lost my heart when I was wed,
But got one back from Silver Bee.

Proudly he held his crested head,
He moved his well-curved beak with grace;
Two gentle eyes of ruby red
Shone radiant from his feathered face.
For twenty years my mate and I
Through sunlit pleasures wandered on-
Would I could lay me down and die;
The sunlight from my life has gone!
I care not to recount the doom
Which met at length poor Silver Bee:
A dreadful sentence, shaped in gloom,
Robbed me of hin by Fate's decree.

My better senses from that hour
With his sweet spirit fled away;
Bereft of my linguistic power,
I even ceased to talk Malay!

The crystal sea, the tropic flowers,
The fragrance of the sunny grove,
The peace of calm, reposeful hours,
Soft visions of the isles I love
No more for me-but bitter hate
Enduring till my life be done,
Although some allowance is to be made for Polly Cla's feelings
at this point, her language at this point is not to be praised.
t The cautious historian, while admitting Polly Cla's narrative into
his pages, thus far, may be excused for exercising discretion on the

Of those who slew my gentle mate
And left me in the world alone!

Those Isles were meant for cockatoos.
Black imps (whose ghosts may Allah slay!)
Came paddling round in bark canoes,
And stole our heritage away.*
As lovelorn maidens take the veil
For sorry solace of their woe,
I vowed to pluck my wings and tail,-
I vowed to let my freedom go

From those bright scenes I loved so well
I hastened with the morning dew,
Alighting, ere the evening fell,
Where reigns the Sultan of Sulu.

There, reckless of myself and pride,
I plucked the feathers from my wings,t.
Resolved to wait what might betide-
Chance oft decides the fate of kings.
subject referred to. Polly Cla may possibly have allowed her love
of romance and a desire to excuse herself to lead her into a misstate-
ment; for the bird-fancier tells me her bad habit is the result of too
much rich food.




Now, how She ruled and what befell
Is naught to me while sorrow burns;
But if you care to hear me tell,
Wait till my gentler mood returns.

Which treats of Polly Cla's subsequent history and trav-
els; of her arrival in Nagasaki, and some humiliating
experiences there until her high station was at length
fully recognized and fitting accommodation provided.

An aged man with bended head
Came to an open door to pray,
Bowed low, and with his hands outspread
Made reverence to the breaking day.

Sprung from Mohammed's chosen line,
His gaze was fixed, his prayer intent
To distant Mecca's sacred shrine,
To Allah and his Prophet sent.

i ;illlli~l,;i c I in

I SAT there, with the lonely moon Now there
Slow traversing the rounded sky; Because
Damp breezes from the dark lagoon Was ordered
Blew chiller as the day drew nigh. And by

When morning tinged the sky with gold, From him
There, shivering on the dewy ground, And shoi
Day broke on me, forlorn and cold, With outsp
With all my scattered feathers round. This cha

His orisons performed, he
And raised me with a
pitying eye.
May Allah grant this merit
May serve him when he
comes to die!

He owned a dhow, with
thrifty toil,
That traded to this distant
And took back sandalwood
and oil,
And pilgrims for the Red
Sea coast.
The sea was high, the wind
was chill,
I watched the laughing
billows roll,-
They tossed us freely at
their will,
And in the region of
I grew so sick I should
have died,
But passing close to
The pious Moslem lost a tide
To put a seasick bird ashore.

I had not long to wait,
my journey to Japan
ed by propitious Fate,
an honest sailorman.

I learned your tongue to speak
ut out, "Hip! Hip! Hip! Hurray!"
read wings and open beak.
irmed the tedium of the way.



We sailed with the southeast monsoon,
Heaven favoring our little skiff,
And on the thirteenth day at noon
Passed Takaboka's noted cliff.

Anchored in Nagasaki Bay,
My pride received a fatal blow:
They sold me for-a goose one day
To Portuguese Antonio.

To change me for a frying pan,
In barter with a native brown,
Who worked in tin--a kindly man
Of Nagasaki native town.

Near Deshima, where dwell the Dutch,
He kept me hanging at his door;
I pined within a rabbit-hutch,
And plucked my feathers more and more !


With only rice to fill my crop,
Chained by the leg, in grief profound,
Behind Antonio's printing-shop
My screeching woke the echoes round.

But soon, regretful of the goose,
Antm:i,. ,, bent on further trade,
Found frivolous and mean excuse
In the indignant cries I made,

The sultry days passed one by one,
And I was little understood;
The pleasant autumn had begun,
When, passing by in thoughtful mood,

Your father, guessing my degree
And hoping that my plumes would grow,
For eight round dollars purchased me-
The cockatoo of Borneo!



My pretty cage and bamboo stand,
This bungalow in which we dwell,
Though distant from my native land,
Beseem my high condition well.

I shall remember till I die
(For no one gave me food all day),
I thought I heard a kitten cry,
That sleeping on some pillows lay.

My wanderings and my tale are done;
I hope in peace to end my days
Where yours have happily begun
With winning smiles and pretty ways.

Learn, little maiden, from my wail,
The sorrows of a widowed life;
Ne'er listen to a lover's tale,
And never, never be a wife.


Such creatures then were new to me.
I gave a soft, inquiring mew,
Uncertain what the thing could be-
That "kitten," Edie dear, was you!

Learn further though with grief and smart
The journey of your life be past,
To those who keep a steadfast heart
A pleasant haven comes at last.



THEY had been out all the afternoon riding
together about the ranch, Janet on her little
thoroughbred chestnut, her father on his big
red-roan. They were just thinking of turning
homeward, when suddenly a great trampling
sound, as of hundreds of hoofs, was heard
behind them, and the whole vast herd of half
wild cattle came plunging clumsily up the bank
from the river-pasture, urged on by the mounted
herdsmen, who were still out of sight below.
Janet's father started, and gave a quick glance
of alarm over his shoulder: he had nothing with
which to face the great, bellowing, stamping
drove but his slender riding-whip. Janet's face
grew white with terror. She crowded her little
filly close up to her father's horse.
"Oh, Papa! They will be on us! They will
trample us to death!" she cried.
Her father's lips were pale and set. Watch
me, Janet," he said in a low, stressful voice.
Do exactly as I do."
Then, straightening himself in his saddle and
tightening his rein, he touched his horse with
the whip, put him sharply at the gray adobe
wall, which rose a few rods in front of them,
and vaulted over in a flying leap.
Janet's heart stood still with dread. Death
behind and death before threatened her in one
wild flash of fear. She had been accustomed to
riding ever since she could remember, but she
had never dreamed of attempting a feat like
this. Beyond that wall she knew a deep ditch
lay. Could "Firefly" take them both? And
could Janet hold her seat while the filly did it ?
Thought is swifter than lightning. Even as
that wild fear flashed through the child's mind,
the answering assurance flashed back-" Papa
knows!" and in the same instant she herself,
braced firmly in her little Mexican saddle, the
reins clutched tightly in her small fingers, was
bounding over the wall, over the trench, and,
in a moment, landing safe at her father's side,

with Firefly's slim black legs only quivering a
"Brava, my daughter! Brava, Firefly! Well
done, both of you! exclaimed her father, the
color coming back to his face. I knew you
would follow if I led, and Jove! it was the
only thing to do. Look at those beasts now,
on the other side!"
Janet lifted her face from where she had
hidden it against her father's arm, and looked.
The whole inclosure seemed one cloud of fly-
ing hoofs, horns, and tails. She shuddered, and
hid her eyes again upon her father's shoulder.
He put his arm fondly around her.
"Why, you 're not going to keep on being
scared now it 's all over!" he said with a laugh
that was not quite steady. "Plucky little girl!
good little girl!-to mind papa so! I never
meant to give you such a neck-or-nothing jump
for a first lesson; but now you '11 never be afraid,
and you shall go out with the hounds some day
at papa's side, and the master of the hunt shall
present you with the brush."
"Oh, papa! shall I?" cried Janet, looking
up with a radiant face. "And ride with you
everywhere, and not have to stay in the house
so much with only Cousin Ann and Pepita?
I get so tired of Cousin Ann and Pepita! "
Her father did not wonder much as he
thought of the tall, prim, maiden lady who
had consented to come out to the far Pacific
slope to take charge of his widowed home, but
who evidently had no affinity for children.
Pepita, too, Janet's lazy little half-breed atten-
dant, with a complexion like the bananas she
was always munching, and great black eyes
that seemed to make up half her face,-she, he
knew, cared nothing for play, or for the long
rambles about the ranch, in which her young
mistress found pleasure. She liked nothing so
well as to lie curled up on the grass in the
shadow of a wall, and pull down great bunches


of purple grapes, holding her mouth wide open
and letting the winy globes pop one by one
into it. Dull companions both, he was well
aware, for his all-alive little girl, but he did not
know what better to do for her, and all he said
now was, with a little laugh:
"Well, we must be getting back to the house,
anyhow, or we shall be late for supper; and
you know Cousin Ann does n't like us to be
late for supper."
"There are so many things Cousin Ann
does n't like!" said Janet, naively. But
coie we '11 have to go round the long

some time for the little girl. But not just yet-
in another year, perhaps.
Meanwhile, Janet spent half her days in the
saddle, riding over the wild country at her
father's side, and coming to think no more of a
flying leap over wall or ditch than he did him-
self. He had fulfilled his promise of taking her
with him after the hounds, and Janet had had
a royal time at first. She had been welcomed
with merry surprise by the other huntsmen, had
dashed off at the start as gaily as any of them,
and kept the pace as bravely as the best hunts-
man of them all. The mad gallop over hill and


way now, won't we? and for that, I '11 forgive
the cattle. Come !" and touching her chestnut
with her little whip, she cantered gaily off with
a saucy challenge for a race.
Her father galloped after her, smiling, but
in his heart he felt grave. He knew better
than Janet how great was the peril they had
escaped, and he was touched to the core by
his little daughter's unquestioning trust in him.
What a comfort, what a happiness, she was to
him, now that her mother was gone! How
could he bear to part with her, too ? And yet
he knew that he must, for her own sake: this
wild, free, untutored life must come to an end

plain, the swift bound over hedge or branch,
the mellow baying of the hounds, the shrill call
of the horns, all made her tingle with joyous
excitement, and brought the color to her cheek,
the sparkle to her eye. It was glorious fun for
a while; but presently, when Janet caught sight
of the poor fox, hunted to his death, and taking
to the open in desperation,-when she saw the
savage dogs rush upon him as he labored along
with gasping breath and piteous yelping, and
heard them snarling and .r!idirii;. their fangs,
the little girl's cheek turned white; she felt
fairly sick with horror and pity, and turning
Firefly about, she rode away homeward so fast


that her father, half amused, half touched, could
scarcely overtake her. Even the presentation
of the "brush by the master of the hounds
could not restore her spirits; and Janet's first
fox-hunt was her last.
Not a great while after this, Janet's father
was summoned East on business, and, stimu-
lated by Cousin Ann's frequently expressed
disapproval of "such goings on for a girl," he
brought himself to the point of deciding to take
the child with him, meaning to leave her in the
charge of his sister, who lived in a large city,
to grow up with her cousins and learn the
things a young lady ought to know. Janet did
not quite know whether she wanted to go or
not. She had been very happy in this wild,
free life with her father; she did not like the
idea of separation from him; but the thought
of a long journey, of new places to see, of the
wonders of a great city, and, above all, the pros-
pect of being with other girls, stimulated her
imagination, and promised all sorts of pleasur-
able possibilities.
Besides, papa wished it, and she was going
with him; so when the time of departure ar-
rived, she bade a cheerful good-by to the old
life, and went off smilingly, with a promise to
Cousin Ann to learn how to walk (hitherto
that motion had been too dull for her), and to
Pepita to bring her the biggest bead necklace
she could find, when she came home.
Hard as it was to see her father return
without her, she entered cheerfully upon the
new life, and promptly fell in love with her
aunt and every one of her cousins. There were
four of these: Edith, a young lady already in
society; Laura, who was to "come out" during
the winter; Evelyn, about her own age; and
Nan, some two years younger. Her aunt was
not wealthy, but she lived well, in a handsome
house, and saw a good deal of company; and
each of the girls had her own set of young
companions, who seemed to be coming and
going constantly. Evelyn's little girl friends all
called in due form upon the "cousin from
the West"; and Janet, who had never made
or received a call in her life, was very shy at
first, and did not have much to say. But she
listened so well, and looked so bright and inter-
ested in what the others were talking about,

that she was voted "a dear" from the be-
ginning, and taken into things at once.
Her aunt gave a "pink luncheon" in her
honor; other entertainments followed; she was
taken here and there to "see the sights," and,
altogether, the first week or two in her new
home brought a succession of fresh delights to
the little girl from the lonely ranch.
But when the time came for Janet to go to
school, she did not find things so pleasant. It
was not the confinement, though that was
strange and irksome; it was not the lessons,
though she had never been trained to study:
but Janet was mortified to discover that she
could not be placed in the class with Evelyn or
her friends; that she did not know as much of
arithmetic or grammar as even little Nan; and
she was put to the blush every day by her igno-
rance of things that seemed to be quite familiar
to other children.
At the house it was the same thing. All her
cousins played some instrument, danced, drew,
embroidered, chattered to each other in French
or German. Janet could do none of these
things, though she knew the seed-time and
blossoming of every flower in her wilderness
home, and could whistle like a lark amid the
wheat. She could ride like a vaquero, run like
a deer; but she had never learned her "steps,"
and to make a courtesy such as Evelyn's was
an unknown art.
Janet presently began to think herself a very
ignorant, insignificant little body, and the rue-
ful thought came often that she need not have
been quite such a little savage if she had been
willing to learn even what Cousin Ann could
have taught her.
It serves me right," she said whimsically
to herself; "and all I can do now is to go to
work my very hardest to make up for lost time.
For it is n't a bit pleasant to be unlike every-
body else!"
She felt this specially when, about Christmas-
time, everybody was busy with some pretty
mysterious trifle, to be kept a great secret,
while she could not so much as work an initial
upon a handkerchief; and afterward still more,
when the time for church fairs and all manner
of undertakings for charitable purposes came
in their turn.



The church which her aunt attended had
started a plan for a free kindergarten and day-
nursery to which poor working-women might
bring their little children and leave them to be
cared for while they were away at their daily
labor. It was a beautiful charity, the salvation
of helpless little ones from untold miseries, and
the ladies of the congregation had taken it up
All sorts of ways
and means were
devised for rais-
ing the necessary
amount; every-
body appeared
to be suddenly
busy in behalf
of the new en-
terprise. All of I
Janet's cousins
were working
ardently, for it.
Edith was paint-
ing china; Laura
practising for a
parlor musical;
Evelyn was em-
cheon-set for a
bazar; even lit-
tle Nan,whohad
decided talent .-
for declaiming,
was to come
forth upon a
platform at a
school enter-
tainment, and "THE COLONEL
recite Robert
o' Lincoln"; and she went about the house,
chirping "Spink, spank, spink!" with an air of
conscious importance.
Poor Janet! she could neither paint nor play,
work art-stitches nor declaim. All she could do
was to fight down certain very human little im-
pulses of envy and jealousy, and show only a
genuine and cordial interest in the performances
of the others. Perhaps this was as great an
achievement in the eyes of the angels, but Janet
would never have thought of that to comfort

herself withal; and her poor little heart was
sore within her many a time, when, because of
her own ignorance, she found herself "left out
in the cold."
Her aunt noticed one evening, coming in
upon the group of girls laughing and chatter-
ing over their work, that the little stranger's
eyes had a depressed and wistful look in them,


and the wish to give her a pleasure came into
her mind.
Come, Edith," she said, it is time for you
to get ready; and Janet, you may go and put
your things on, too." Then, as the others
opened their eyes wide, she added: "It is the
evening of the Grand Equestrian Entertain-
ment' at the riding-school, for the benefit of
the kindergarten, you know, and I have taken
two tickets. The riding-school is an old story
to us, but it will be something new to Janet, so,



as we were going in company with friends any-
how, you won't need me for a chaperon, Edith,
and I think I '11 stay at home and let her go in
my place. Would you like it, little girl? "
Janet looked up eagerly. The very word
riding brought a vivid light to her face. How
long it seemed since she had had a gallop with
Firefly! How she would love to look in on
Firefly in her stall this very minute, pat her
silken neck, and give her a handful of sugar or
a big Pampino apple! The tears wanted to
come as she thought of her pretty comrade,
feeling lonely, probably, like herself. She
jumped up to hide them, and said quickly:
"Oh, yes, indeed, Aunt Adelaide! I should
love to go, and I '11 be ready in just a minute."
Half an hour later, when they had arrived
at the riding-school, and the party with whom
they came were going up to take their seats
in the gallery, which was already crowded with
spectators, Edith said to her cousin:
"Janet, if you like, you may stay down here
with me instead of going up there with stran-
gers. You can help me with my habit, and I
think it will be better fun for you to be more
in the midst of the riding."
"Oh, yes, it will, Edith! said Janet, happy
already at the mere sight of horses and riders
again. Edith was one of the pupils of the
academy, and was to be among the riders this
evening. She went at once to the dressing-
room to put on her habit, Janet with her, and
when they came back, the great tan-covered
ring was already dotted with equestrians, pac-
ing their horses to and fro, and Edith's pretty
sorrel mare was waiting for her at the entrance,
in charge of a groom.
Janet watched her wistfully as she mounted
and trotted off to join the others, and she
looked on with curious interest when the exer-
cises began. The sight of the beautiful horses,
their sleek coats glistening, and the riders in
their faultless habits putting them through their
paces, set the child's heart to beating, and
yet-"What mild little paces they are!" she
could not help thinking. It seemed merely
playing at riding, this ambling and cantering
round and round a track as smooth as a car-
pet; and even when the exhibition of special
feats began, the running and leaping over poles

or flags held across by attendants, the little
ranch-maiden had to bite her lips to keep from
smiling at the way in which the obstacle was
lowered to make the jump easy while yet
appearing difficult. She thought of her own
wild gallops across country.
"Why, Firefly herself would laugh if she
were here! she thought merrily. "Bless her
little heart! how I wish she were, and they 'd
give me a chance to put her over a hurdle!
She 'd show them something worthy of their
shouts and clapping "
For all the throng of spectators in the gal-
leries seemed to think the feats of the young
horsewomen something wonderful. They held
their breath with real dread as one and another
came cautiously up to the jump, and when
safely landed on the other side, the loud bursts
of applause rang to the very roof, the mamas
and papas exchanged glances of pride, and
threw bouquets down to their blushing daugh-
ters; while their young cavaliers, watching
them admiringly from the doorways, gathered
gallantly around the horses as they came trot-
ting back, and overwhelmed the riders with
Janet, standing in the midst of a group at
one of the entrances, looked on wondering and
amused; and, presently, a little unconscious rip-
ple of merriment broke from her lips at the
excitement caused by a rather scrambling leap
over what appeared to her a very modest little
obstacle. Old Colonel Archer (the father of
one of Edith's fellow-pupils), in whose charge
Janet had been left, turned and looked at her
with a twinkle of fun beneath his bushy gray
"Jumping made easy, you think, eh ? said
he. But could you do it any better yourself,
my little miss ? "
Janet colored at the abrupt inquiry, but-
"I 'm afraid I could, sir!" she answered whim-
The old gentleman looked at her curiously.
Why," he said, you are but a youngster.
Do you know how to ride? Did you ever
jump over a hurdle, for instance ?"
Not hurdles, exactly," answered Janet, inno-
cently, "but fences, ditches, walls-anything
that came in our way, when my papa and I


used to be out riding together. We live in
the West, on a ranch, you know, when we are
at home."
Well! exclaimed the colonel, much amused.
"That's refreshing. Anything that came in
their way, she says. Ha, ha! Well, now, I '11
tell you what I '11 do, little Miss Di Vernon.
This performance is one of your charitable af-
fairs, I believe; we all want to do as much as
we can for the good cause. Now, if you '11
mount a horse and take a shy at that thing
they 're bringing in over there-do you see?"
Janet looked as he pointed toward the oppo-
site entrance, where some men were bringing in
a five-barred gate, some six feet high, and set-
ting it up across the track.
"Well ?" she asked.
Well, if you '11 make your words good and
take it clean, I '11 give you this for your special
contribution to the thingumbob." He put his
hand in his pocket and drew out a shining
double eagle. "It came to me in the way of
business to-day, and I hate to be bothered with
gold coin. Now what do you say ?"
Janet's heart gave a great leap. What?
Could she truly help so much as that toward a
home for the poor little helpless children ? She,
the good-for-nothing! She looked at the colo-
nel with eyes that sparkled.
Do you really mean it?" she cried. Oh,
if I might only have the chance! "
Just then her cousin came trotting up to
them, and signed to a groom to take her horse.
I 'm going up to the dressing-room a min-
ute, Janet," she said. My hair is all tumbling
down. You need n't come. The gentlemen are
going to do some big jumping; you '11 like to
see it."
"There!" said the colonel, as the young
lady gathered up her habit and tripped away.
"There's your chance now. Take your cousin's
His face and voice were full of mischievous
meaning. Even the colonel's best friends said
he was nothing but a grown-up boy, and when
anything promised to amuse him, he was apt to
forget everything else in the prospect of fun.
And there was a touch of excitement which
he liked in testing the pluck of this self-confi-
dent little maid.

"Come," he repeated, in a challenging tone.
"Shall I put you up ? "
Just at that moment there was a sudden
movement of retreat among the groups that
stood about the doorways, for a couple of
horsemen, booted and spurred, came galloping
along the course from the opposite side, speed-
ing their steeds for the difficult leap. On they
dashed, faster and faster, the spectators watch-
ing and holding their breath, till the goal was
reached, when one of the horses deliberately
turned tail and galloped back again, while the
other went plunging over, neck or nothing, in a
scrambling jump, sending the topmost bar rat-
tling down in front of him, but landing safe on
the farther side.
A great shout went up, half laughter, half
applause; and Janet, turning breathlessly to the
colonel, said:
Oh, do you truly think Edith would n't
mind? I do so want to earn that money!"
"Mind? No. Why should she?" was the
reckless answer. "It won't hurt the mare;
she has good blood in her. It won't hurt you,
either; you see the rails are made loose on
purpose so as to let you over anyhow if you
happen to hit 'em!"
But I sha'n't hit 'em!" said Janet, with a
merry nod, and taking his word simply as she
was wont to take her father's. "Put me up
quick, please," she added.
The colonel promptly hollowed his hand;
Janet touched her little foot to it, and sprang
lightly into the saddle; a pat of the sorrel's
arching neck, a coaxing word into the quivering
ear, and away they went, Janet's long, wavy,
dark hair fluttering out from beneath her scarlet
"Tam o' Shanter" with the breeze of the flying
The colonel suddenly felt his heart fail within
"What a madman I was to put such a child
up to so crazy an undertaking !" he said to him-
self in dismay, staring desperately after horse
and rider. "What-what, if anything should
Powerless now to help or hinder, he could
only watch with the watching multitude, as the
high-mettled mare, recognizing the touch of a
practised hand, bounded onward like a deer,



quickening her pace as they reached the goal.
Then a swift gathering of herself together in
response to her rider's touch, a brave leap into

The amazed questions flew from one to
another around the eager throng, but none
could answer. Even the riding-master came


the air, and over they went, clear and clean,
landing lightly on the carpet of tan, amid a per-
fect paean of applause.
"Who is it? Where did she come from?
Such a mere child--and she is not even wear-
ing a habit! What does it all mean ?"
VOL. XX.- 19.

forward in astonishment to meet the unknown
little horsewoman.
But the colonel was there, forcing his way
round in breathless eagerness, to lift his little
heroine from the saddle, to pour out in a tor-
rent of eager words his relief and delight, and




to make whatever explanations might be neces-
Well!" he exclaimed, fairly snatching the
happy child into his arms. "You are all right,
are n't you ?-no bones broken, nothing amiss!
I tell you, I would n't live through what
I've lived through the last two minutes, not for
a million gold double-eagles! Here 's yours,
though, you little trump, and I wish I knew

your father so I could beg his pardon for dar-
ing such a risk with his little daughter!"
"Oh, he would n't mind, sir!" said Janet,
laughing. I wish you would make it right,
though, with Edith, sir. Here she comes, look-
ing queer. I 'm half afraid I ought n't to have
taken her horse without permission, but I can't
help being glad I could do something toward-
the kindergarten!"



(A Christmas Romance of 1492.)


[Begun in te December number.]
Back now they go, not slow, I trow,
The three black crows, and Mistletoe.
THE cave door closed on Ethelred and Chief
Hardi-Hood; and Mistletoe turned homeward.
She had seen much of importance in the last
few moments, and she must lose no time in
reaching Charlock-land again.
So thinking, she straightened her steeple-
crowned hat, somewhat battered from its con-
tact with the bushes among which she had
been stooping, and hurried away in the direc-
tion the crows had taken.
Once there was a crackling in the bushes,
that set her heart to beating for fear it was a
Hardi-Hood in pursuit of her; but it proved
a false alarm. Again, a man in leather round-
about and high top-boots cried, "What do you
there ? as he passed through the wood some
distance from her; but with her cane she
stopped to poke the ground, as if in search of
some rare root, and did not answer.
"'T is well to be most cautious on an errand
like mine," she whispered to herself, and she
avoided the best-trodden path till the light of
the full-faced moon showed her that she had
reached the wood-cutter's cottage.
"We have had no luck robber-hunting, good
Dame Mistletoe," said Jeannie, running to meet
her. "No, one can give us a single word of
them. Canute is foot-sore, tramping over the
country for them, and we know not what to do
"Leave it to me! Leave it to me!" re-
sponded Mistletoe, with a twinkle in her eye.
"That we will, forsooth," said Jeannie, quite
satisfied; "'t will not be the first time you have
helped us to good luck."
The next morning, still earlier than before,
Mistletoe was afoot. The distance no longer

seemed hard and long nor the path twisting
and bramble-lined. On the king's highway,
a carter gave her a ride beside him for several
miles, so she was safely home and herself and
her crows well fed before nightfall.
The days following Holly-berry's visit to
Mistletoe had been doleful and wearing.
The last day had been particularly trying to
the little jester. Three times he had helped
staghound Thor to evade a hasty kick, and
three times had he tried to console the fair
Bertha, when he found her in tears.
It was therefore a relief to him when even-
ing settled upon Charlock castle, and Sir
Charles bade him begone, telling him not to
darken the door again that night.
"No, my lord," responded Holly-berry; "I
come not, unless I bring the moon under my
arm"; which was then the saying for I won't
return till sent for."
Though a long, lonely way, the little jester
betook himself to the three oaks-the moon,
bigger and brighter than on his previous walk,
lighted so clearly his track that he lost no time,
even in the dense grove where the shadow-
etchings crossed and recrossed each other most
confusingly upon the snow.
"What news, Dame Mistletoe ?" he asked,
when he found her standing in her doorway,
as if awaiting him. "Is all well, and did you
find the Hardi-Hoods ? "
"Not so fast, good Holly," replied Mistle-
toe, conducting him to the bench before her
fire; "but, then, 't is unkind to keep you in
suspense. The Hardi-Hoods are on the Welsh
side of England, in a fastness among the rocks.
And the lad is with them, alive and well, as I
espied when he followed the chief of these out-
laws, who was about to skewer a crow with his
arrow-burdened crossbow."
"How shall one know the place?" ques-
tioned Holly-berry.


"'T is simple enough. Go due west, passing "The next question is, Who is to go there?"
wood-cutter Canute's cottage, till one comes to said Holly-berry, crossing his finger-tips like a
three diverging paths; follow the mid one, judge. "Sir Charles has so weakened that-"
though it is as rocky and seemingly untraveled Did you not once gossip to me of some love

.' . -

.... -. -. ---




as the others. After many twists and turns, it twixtt Bertha and Count Egbert? asked Mis-
brings one out upon the edge of a ravine. In tletoe, interrupting Holly-berry.
this tree-bound hollow live the Hardi-Hoods." "Truly," nodded the little jester.


"And did you not further gossip that a feud,
long-ripened twixtt their families, caused Sir
Charles to vow mightily that none of his should
marry a Traymore of Twin Towers?"
"Truly," said Holly-berry, again.
"Then," said Mistletoe, "as it grieves me sore
to have an affair of true love go so awry, how
would it do, think you, to lay the matter before
Count Egbert? He de-
serveth not his name
of sword-brightness,' I
ween, if he cannot so
try its sharp point upon ,
these robbers that he
shall win your Ethelred 2
from them and restore .'
him to his parents."
"And wed the fair
Bertha," added Holly-
berry, his bright eyes
dancing; and this time ./' i
he allowed himself a ,.
somersault. /
"Go to, Holly-berry!
That is far-fetched to .
the plan, and no answer," ./
remonstrated Mistletoe.
"What think you of it ?" ".
"Think of it?" re-
peated Holly-berry, "'tis
the very best that was -
e'er devised! Who shall Illl
be messenger to tell the p "
count of this ?"
"Who but fair Bertha,
herself?-that is, I will -- _
send a request that shall
bring him here to the
three oaks, while you -=
send maid Bertha on
some pretext unexpect- "I WILL BE
edly to meet him. It
will be a pretty sight, the meeting of the two."
And Mistletoe pictured to herself the scene.
"But he dares not set a foot in Charlock-
land," demurred Holly-berry.
"Forsooth, Holly, what manner of Egbert
*carry you in mind?-a nilly-nad who dares
not risk a little danger for his lady-love? Not
so this Egbert. Persuade, then, the lady fair

to come here by eleven of the clock to-morrow
morning, and Egbert will be awaiting. So hie
you hence, without somersaults or other loss
of time, to do your part."
Not at all affronted, the little jester made a
deep bow, and was off like the wind-Thor,
who had slyly followed him, capering and frisk-
ing at his heels.


"Now, straight to fair Bertha," said Holly-
berry to himself, as he reached Charlock cas-
tle; and, entering the broad hall by a side door,
he tried to escape notice.
"By my halidom! you. are tardy," said a
retainer stationed in the hall. Sir Charles
has been calling for you high and low, vow-
ing you shall be dismissed his service if you


cannot be at your post to make light his heavy
"Post, indeed!" said Holly-berry. "Make
light his heavy spirits! he repeated. "As if
one were, in truth, to carry a moon under his
arm! Post you to him," and here he shook
his head at the retainer like a playful goat,
thus setting his cap-bells into their merriest
jingle-"post you to him post-haste, and tell
him that though fair Luna could not come with
me to-night, being much needed at home, I
shall be with him ere five minutes leave us, and
will so light his heavy spirits with a jolly tale
that he shall shout with laughter!"
Skipping past the retainer, he scampered up
the stairs and knocked daintily on the door of
the apartments occupied by Bertha.
"Surely," she said to herself, "that dainty
knocklet and bell-jingle belong to none other
than Holly-berry. What wants the little rogue ?
He must have news to bring him where he has
ne'er come before." Upon her calling, Enter,"
the jester came in, made a fantastic bow, and
seated himself upon a stool at her feet.
"Fair Bertha," he began at once, "I know
more of your affairs for the next four minutes
than it behooves me to e'er know again. At
eleven of the clock to-morrow morning, wrap
yourself warmly and hie you to the three oaks
in the old grove. Ethelred is with the Hardi-
Hoods, and can be rescued and brought away in
safety if you will but meet the brave knight
you will see under the three oaks, and tell
him where to find the little lad."
Bertha raised her slim hands in astonish-
ment, dropped the illuminated missal out of
which she had been trying to spell some Latin
comfort, and stared at Holly-berry.
"'T is a secret?" she at length questioned.
"The same," said Holly-berry, springing to
his feet, and bowing so low that his pointed
cap touched the floor.
No one must know that I go, nor why I
go?" she questioned.
The same," he repeated, gallantly bowing.
"How can I direct this valiant knight to a
place I know not of? she next asked.
"The recipe is easily given. He must go
west, by the highway, till he comes to a stile
and mile-stone, in mid England; thence, still

keeping to the westward, upon a narrow path
till he has passed wood-cutter Canute's cottage,
and come to where his path divides in three.
Of these the midmost one, after many rough
crooks and turns, brings him upon the edge of
the ravine in which dwell these Hardi-Hoods.
What then to do he will see for himself once
he is there."
Bertha shivered, but she said, "Thank you,
kind Holly-berry, I will go."
"And I will go," said the jester, hurrying
from the room, and entering Sir Charles's pres-
ence with a bit of tumbling just as the last of
the five minutes he had allowed himself was
Soon, by some chicanery known to the jes-
ter's art, Sir Charles was set to laughing louder
and louder, as he caught Holly-berry's merry
spirit, and listened to his clever jokes.
"By my faith," said he, I know not why
I am so merry, my jolly jester-berry, but there
is a feeling upon me that the little lad will yet
be found, alive and well. What think you ?"
"The same," said Holly-berry.

Through valor two are oft made one;
Through valor too, is oft maid won.

No sooner had Holly-berry disappeared than
Bertha found her heart fluttering with more
hope and expectation than she could account
for. It gave to her cheeks a dash of color
that had not been there since the day Egbert
was driven from Charlock castle, and threat-
ened with quick death or the dungeon for life
if he but set foot within the premises again.
That was three months agone, and Bertha
had not seen Egbert since, nor heard from him.
Impatiently she awaited the next morning.
At the time set, she put a long cloak over her
trailing gown, a hood over her fair hair, and
going down a back stair, was through the door
and on her way to the three oaks without hav-
ing attracted notice.
As she entered the grove, she followed the
snow path Holly-berry had worn, and coming
at last to a little opening in the tangled growth
of the trees' low, wide branches, she saw Count
Egbert pacing back and forth near the three


oaks, a look of impatient expectation upon his
He was a goodly knight and well-looking.
He wore a suit of fine-linked armor, over which
was a scarlet tabard embroidered in querls of
gold. The Traymore arms, a jessant lion, were
worked skilfully upon his breast, while a hand-
some mantle of silver-fox swung from his shoul-
ders, partly making up for the lack of warmth
in the low-throated, short-sleeved tabard. His
head-piece was an open helmet, over which a
scarlet feather nodded or tossed to and fro in
the playful breeze.
Bertha!" he exclaimed, looking up sud-
denly. By my troth, this is wondrous kind!
I was expecting something, but not this / and
going toward her, he greeted her as reverently
as if she had dropped from the sky. "You
show trouble,- nor is it to be wondered at.
Time goes hard with you and me; yet pa-
tience! and it shall all come right at last, if
my sword is long and strong enough."
"What mean you, Egbert?" she asked
quickly. Surely you would not war upon
my father ? "
No; if you wish it not; but my sword can
scarce stay within its sheath, so anxious is it to
use its steel tongue in our cause "; and as he
spoke, forgetful of his first advice to patience,
he half drew the blade from its scabbard.
"A truce to family feuds three hundred

years ago!" he cried. "What have they to
do with you and me, Bertha? I disdain such
"Your sword shall yet be a peacemaker, Eg-
bert," said Bertha, brightening. Listen that
I may tell you how."
In a few words she told him of Ethelred's
loss, of how to find him in the Hardi-Hoods'
stronghold, and even discussed how he might
then be rescued.
"Truly, Bertha, the task, as you call it, is"
but pleasure; I will off at once, that no more
time be lost. Say naught to your father of this,
and worry not, but by Christmas Day, only two
days away, have all in readiness for the usual
merry-making. I shall surely come, and with
me the little lad, both safe and sound." Pull-
ing from the oak-branch above him a sprig of
mistletoe, he gave it to her as a parting keep-
Egbert escorted her to the edge of the grove,
and, wishing him God-speed, she watched him
spring upon his horse, that was neighing in
impatience to be. off. Soon he was out of
sight,-at a speed equal to that of the robber
Hardi-Hood with Ethelred, and, like him, over
stones, sticks, hedges, bushes,- whatever lay in
his way, till safe beyond Sir Charles's land.
Caw, caw, caw! cried three black crows,
as they caught from far above the tops of the
trees a bird's-eye view of the knight.

(To be continued.)



ONCE the Little Girl that Cried,
Looking through her tears, espied
Lovely motes of colored light
In the fringes of her eye -
Just as when the weather clears,
And the clouds are put to flight,

There 's a rainbow in the sky.
And the Little Girl that Cried,
When she saw this lovely sight,-
This fine rainbow in her tears,-
Would forget the reason why
She had thought it best to cry.


,. .2 -

_:=: _-ON ,0 .,

~- -,:-

..- _iiz

-_= -_. _.. -_

(SEE PAGE 316.)



Author of The Birds' Christmas Carol," "A Summer in a Canon," etc.

[Begun in the November number.]

THE new arrangement worked exceedingly
As to Edgar's innermost personal feelings
no one is qualified to speak with any author-
ity. Whether he experienced a change of
heart, vowed better things, prayed to be de-
livered from temptation, or simply decided to
turn over a new leaf, no one knows; the prin-
cipal fact in his life at this period seems to
have been an unprecedented lack of time for
any great foolishness.
Certain unpleasant things had transpired on
that eventful Friday night when he had missed
his appointment with his fellow-students, which
had resulted in an open scandal too disagree-
able to be passed over by the college author-
ities; and the redoubtable Tony had been
returned with thanks to his fond parents in
Mendocino County.
Edgar Noble was not too blind to see the
happy chance that interfered with his presence
on that occasion, and was sensible enough to
realize that, had he been implicated in the
least degree (he scorned the possibility of his
taking any active part in such proceedings), he
would probably have shared Tony's fate.
Existence was wearing a particularly dismal
aspect on that afternoon when Edgar had met
Polly Oliver in the Berkeley woods. He felt
"nagged," injured, blue, out of sorts with fate.
He had not done anything very bad, he said to
himself,-at least, nothing half as bad as lots
of other fellows,-and yet everybody frowned
on him. His father had, in his opinion, been
unnecessarily severe; while his mother and sis-
ter had wept over him (by letter) as if he were
a thief and a forger, instead of a fellow who was

simply having a "little fling." He was an-
noyed at the conduct of Scott Burton, "king
of snobs and prigs," he named him, who had
taken it upon himself to inform Philip Noble
of his (Edgar's) own personal affairs; and he
was enraged at being preached at by that said
younger brother.
But of late everything had taken an upward
turn, and existence turned a smiling face to-
ward him by way of variety. He had passed
his examinations (most unexpectedly to him-
self) with a respectable percentage to spare.
There was a time when he would have been
ashamed of this meager result. He was now,
just a little, but the feeling was somewhat sub-
merged in his gratitude at having "squeaked
through" at all.
A certain inspired Professor Hope, who won-
dered what effect encouragement would have
on a fellow who did n't deserve any, but might
possibly need it, came up to him after recita-
tions one day, and said:
Noble, I want to congratulate you on your
papers in history and physics. They show sig-
nal ability. There is a plentiful lack of study
evinced, but no want of grasp or power. You
have talents that ought to put you among the
first three men in the University, sir. I do not
know whether you care to take the trouble to
win such a place (it is a good deal of trouble),
but you can win it if you want it. That's all I
have to say, Noble. Good morning! "
This unlooked-for speech fell like balm on
Edgar's wounded self-respect, and made him
hold his head higher for a week; and, natu-
rally, while his head occupied this elevated
position, he was obliged to live up to it. He
also felt obliged to make an effort, rather re-
luctantly, to maintain some decent standing
in the classes of Professor Hope, even if he
shirked in all the rest.


And now life, on the whole, was very pleas-
ant save for one carking care that perched on
his shoulder by day and sat on his eyelids at
night; though he could not flatter himself that
he was absolutely a free agent.
After all ordinary engagements of concerts,
theaters, lectures, or what not, he entered the
house undisturbed, and noiselessly sought his
couch. But one night, when he ventured to
stay out till after midnight, just as he was stealing
in softly, Mrs. Oliver's gentle voice came from
the head of the stairs, saying "Good night,
Edgar; the lamp is lighted in your room!"
Edgar closed his door and sat down discon-
solately on the bed, cane in hand, hat on the
back of his head. The fire had burned to a
few glowing coals; his slippers lay on the
hearth, and his Christmas "easy jacket" hung
over the back of his great arm-chair; his books
lay open under the student-lamp, and there
were two vases of fresh flowers in the room:
that was Polly's doing.
"Mrs. Oliver was awake and listening for
me; worrying about me, probably; I dare say
she thought I 'd been waylaid by bandits," he
muttered discontentedly. I might as well live
in the Young Women's Christian Association!
I can't get mad with an angel, but I did n't in-
tend being one myself!"
But all the rest was perfect; and his chief
chums envied him after they had spent an
evening with the Olivers. Polly and he had
ceased to quarrel, and were on good, frank,
friendly terms. She is no end of fun," he
would have told you; "has no nonsensical
young-lady airs about her, is always ready
for sport, sings all kinds of songs from grave to
gay, knows a good joke when you tell one, and
keeps a fellow up to the mark as well as a
maiden aunt."
All this was delightful to everybody con-
cerned. Meanwhile the household affairs were
as troublesome as they could well be. Mrs.
Oliver developed more serious symptoms, and
Dr. George asked the San Francisco physician
to call to see her twice a week at least. The
San Francisco physician thought "a year at
Carlsbad, and a year in Nice, would be a
good thing"; but, failing these, he ordered co-
pious quantities of expensive drugs, and the

reserve fund shrank, though the precious
three hundred and twelve dollars was almost
Poor Mrs. Chadwick sent tearful monthly
letters, accompanied by checks of fifty to sixty-
five dollars. One of the boarders had died;
two had gone away; the season was poor; Ah
Foy had returned to China; Mr. Greenwood
was difficult about his meals; the roof leaked;
provisions were dear; Mrs. Holmes in the next
block had decided to take boarders; Eastern
people were grumbling at the weather, saying
it was not at all as reported in the guide-books;
real-estate and rents were very low; she hoped
to be able to do better next month; and she
was Mrs. Oliver's affectionate Clementine
Churchill Chadwick."
Polly had held a consultation with the princi-
pal of her school, who had assured her that
as she was so well in advance of her class, she
could be promoted with them the next term, if
she desired. Accordingly, she left school in
order to be more with her mother, and as she
studied with Edgar in the evening, she really
lost nothing.
Mrs. Howe remitted four dollars from the
monthly rent, in consideration of Spanish les-
sons given to her eldest daughter, who was
studying for a certificate to teach in the Cos-
mopolitan School. This experiment proved a
success, and Polly next accepted an offer to
come three times a week to the house of a
certain Mrs. Baer at North Beach, to amuse
(instructively) the four little Baer cubs, while
the mother Baer wrote a "History of the
Dress-reform Movement in English-speaking
For this service Polly was paid ten dollars a
month in gold coin, while the amount of spirit-
ual wealth which she amassed could not pos-
sibly be estimated in dollars and cents. The
ten dollars was very useful, for it procured the
services of a kind, strong woman, who came on
these three afternoons of Polly's absence, put
the entire house in order, did the mending,
rubbed Mrs. Oliver's tired back, and brushed
her hair until she fell asleep.
So Polly assisted in keeping the wolf from
the door, and her sacrifices watered her young
heart and kept it tender. Money may always


be a beautiful thing. It is we who make it
Edgar shared in the business conferences
now. He had gone into convulsions of mirth
over Polly's system of accounts, and insisted,
much against her will, in teaching her book-
keeping, striving to convince her that the cash
could be kept in a single box, and the accounts
separated in a book.
These lessons were merry occasions, for
there was a conspicuous cavity in Polly's
brain where the faculty for mathematics should
have been.
"Your imbecility is so unusual that it 's a
positive inspiration," Edgar would say. It
is n't like any ordinary stupidity; there does n't
seem to be any bottom to it, you know; it 's
abnormal, it 's fascinating, Polly "
Polly glowed under this unstinted praise. "I
am glad you like it," she said. "I always like
to have a thing first-class of its kind, though I
can't pride myself that it compares with your
Spanish accent, Edgar--that stands absolutely
alone and unapproachable for badness. I don't
worry about my mathematical stupidity a bit
since I read Dr. Holmes, who says that every-
body has an idiotic area in his mind.' "
There had been very little bookkeeping to-
night. It was raining in torrents. Mrs. Oliver
was talking with General M- in the parlor,
while Edgar and Polly were studying in the
Polly put down her book and leaned back in
her chair. It had been a hard day, and it was
very discouraging that a New Year should
come to one's door laden with vexations and
anxieties, when everybody naturally expected
New Years to be happy, through January and
February at least.
"Edgar," she sighed plaintively, "I find
that this is a very difficult world to live in,
Edgar looked up from his book, and glanced
at her as she lay back with closed eyes in the
Chinese lounging-chair. She was so pale, so
tired, and so very, very pretty just then, her
hair falling in bright confusion round her face,
her whole figure relaxed with weariness, and
her lips trembling a little, as if she would like
to cry if she dared.

"What's the matter, pretty Poll ? "
Nothing specially new. The Baer cubs
were naughty as little demons to-day. One of
them had a birthday-party yesterday, with four
kinds of frosted cake. Mrs. Baer's system of
management is n't like mine, and until I con-
vince the children I mean what I say, they give
me the benefit of the doubt. The Baer place is
so large that Mrs. Baer never knows where dis-
obedience may occur, and that she may be
saved steps she keeps one of Mr. Baer's old
slippers on the front porch, one in the carriage-
house, one in the arbor, one in the nursery, and
one under the rose hedge at the front gate.
She showed me all these haunts, and told me
to make myself thoroughly at home. I felt
tempted to-day, but I resisted."
"You are working too hard, Polly. I pro-
pose we do something about Mrs. Chadwick.
You are bearing all the brunt of other people's
faults and blunders."
But, Edgar, everything is so mixed : Mrs.
Chadwick's year of lease is n't over; I suppose
she cannot be turned out by main force, and if
we should ask her to leave the house it might
go unrented for a month or two, and the loss
of that money might be as much as the loss of
ten or fifteen dollars a month for the rest of the
year. I could complain of her to Dr. George,
but there again I am in trouble. If he knew
that we are in difficulties, he would offer to lend
us money in an instant, and that would make
mama ill, I am sure; for we are under all sorts
of obligations to him now, for kindnesses that
can never be repaid. Then, too, he advised us
not to let Mrs. Chadwick have the house. He
said that she had n't energy enough to succeed;
but mama was so sorry for her, and so deter-
mined to give her a chance, that she persisted
in letting her have it. We shall have to move
into a cheaper flat, by and by, for I 've tried
every other method of economizing for fear of

making mama worse with the commotion of



I 'M afraid I make it harder, Polly, and
you and your mother must be frank with me,


and turn me out of the Garden of Eden the
first moment I become a nuisance. Will you
promise ?"
"You are a help to us, Edgar; we told you
so the other night. We could n't have Yung
Lee unless you lived with us, and I could n't
earn any money if I had to do all the house-
I 'd like to be a help, but I 'm so helpless !"

what the Nobles had told them, that he was in
danger of falling behind his class. This, they
judged, was a contingency no longer to be
feared; as various remarks dropped by the stu-
dents who visited the house, and sundry bits of
information contributed by Edgar himself, in
sudden bursts of high spirits, convinced them
that he was regaining his old rank, and cer-
tainly his old ambition.


We are all poor together just now, and that
makes it easier."
I am worse than poor !" Edgar declared.
"What can be worse than being poor?"
asked Polly, with a sigh drawn from the depths
of her boots.
"To be in debt," said Edgar, who had not
the slightest intention of making this remark
when he opened his lips.
Now the Olivers had only the merest notion
of Edgar's college troubles; they knew simply

"To be in debt," repeated Edgar, doggedly,
"and to see no possible way out of it. Polly,
I 'm in a peck of trouble I 've lost money,
and I 'm at my wit's end to get straight again!"
"Lost money? How much? Do you mean
that you lost your pocket-book? "
"No, no; not in that way."
"You mean that you spent it," said Polly.
"You mean you overdrew your allowance."
"Of course I did. Good gracious! Polly,
there are other ways of losing money than by


dropping it in the road. I believe girls don't
know anything more about the world than what
the geography tells them-that it 's a round
globe like a ball or an orange!"
"Don't be impolite. The less they know
about the old world the better they get on, I
dare say. Your colossal fund of worldly know-
ledge does n't seem to make you very happy,
just now. How could you lose money, I ask?
You 're nothing but a student, and you are not
in any business, are you ? "
"Yes, I am in business, and pretty bad busi-
ness it is, too."
"What do you mean?"
I mean that I 've been winding myself up
into a hard knot, the last six months, and the
more I try to disentangle myself, the worse the
thing gets. My allowance is n't half enough;
nobody but a miser could live on it. I 've been
unlucky, too. I bought a dog, and some one
poisoned him before I could sell him; then I
lamed a horse from the livery-stable, and had
to pay damages; and so it went. The fellows
all kept lending me money, rather than let me
stay out of the little club suppers, and since
I 've shut down on expensive gaieties they 've
gone back on me, and all want their money at
once; so does the livery-stable keeper, and the
owner of the dog, and a dozen other indi-
viduals: in fact, the debtors' prison yawns
before me."
Upon my word, I 'm ashamed of you!"
said Polly, with considerable heat. "To waste
money in that way, when you knew perfectly
well you could n't afford it, was-well, it was
downright dishonest, that 's what it was! To
hear you talk about dogs, and lame horses, and
club suppers, anybody would suppose you were
a sporting man! Pray, what else do they do in
that charming college set of yours ? "
"I might have known you would take that
tone, but I did n't, somehow. I told you just
because I thought you were the one girl in a
thousand who would understand and advise a
fellow when he knows he 's made a fool of him-
self and acted like a cur! I did n't suppose
you would call hard names, and be so un-
sympathizing, after all we have gone through
together! "
"I 'm not!--I did n't! -I won't do it

again!" said Polly, incoherently, as she took
a straight chair, planted her elbows on the
table, and leaned her chin in her two palms.
" Now, let 's talk about it. How much is it ? "
"Over a hundred and fifty dollars! Don't
shudder so provokingly, Polly; that 's a mere
bagatelle for a college man, but I know it 's a
good deal for me-a good deal more than I
know how to get, at all events."
Where is the debtors' prison ? asked Polly
in an awe-struck whisper.
Oh, there is n't any such thing! I was
only chaffing; but, of course, the men to whom
I am in debt can apply to father, and get me
in a regular mess. I 've pawned my watch to
stave one of them off. You see, Polly, I would
write and tell father everything, and ask him
for the money, but circumstances conspire just
at this time to make it impossible. You know
father bought that great ranch in Ventura
County with Albert Harding of New York.
Harding has died insolvent, and father has to
make certain payments or lose control of a
valuable property. It 's going to make him a
rich man some time, but for a year or two we
shall have to count every penny. Of course
the fruit crop this season was the worst in ten
years, and of course there has been a frost this
winter, the only severe one within the memory
of the oldest inhabitant,-that 's the way it
always is,--and there I am! I suppose you
despise me, Polly ? "
"Yes, I do! (hotly)-" no, I don't altogether,
and I 'm not good enough myself to be able to
despise people. Besides, you are not a despis-
able boy. You were born manly and generous
and true-hearted, and these hateful things that
you have been doing are not a part of your
nature a bit; but I 'm ashamed of you for
yielding to bad impulses when you have so
many good ones, and-oh dear!-I do that
very same thing myself. But how could you,
you, Edgar Noble, take that evil-eyed, fat-
nosed, common Tony Selling for a friend ? I
wonder at you!"
"He is n't so bad in some ways. I owe
him eighty dollars of that money, and he says
he '11 give me six months to pay it."
I 'm glad he has some small virtues," Polly
replied witheringly. Now, what can we do,

,,,,,,,, ,~~__)_


Edgar? Let us think. What can, what can
we do?" and she leaned forward reflectively,
clasping her knee with her hands and wrinkling
her brow with intense thought.
That little we" fell on Edgar's loneliness
of spirit consolingly; for it adds a new pang
to self-distrust when righteous people withdraw
from one in utter disdain, even if they are only
girls" who know little of a boy's temptations.
If you can save a little each month out of
your allowance, Edgar," said Polly, finally, with
a brighter look, "I can spare fifty dollars of our
money, and you may pay it back as you can.
We are not likely to need it for several months,
and your father and mother will not care to
be troubled with this matter, now that it's over
and done with."
The blood rushed to Edgar's face as he
replied stiffly: I may be selfish and recklessly
extravagant, but I don't borrow money from
girls. If you wanted to add the last touch to my
shame, you 've done it. Don't you suppose I
have eyes, Polly Oliver? Don't you suppose
I 've hated myself ever since I came under this
roof, when I have seen the way you worked
and planned and plotted and saved and de-
nied yourself? Don't you suppose I 've looked
at you twenty times a day, and said to myself,
' You miserable, selfish puppy, getting yourself
and everybody who cares for you into trouble,
just look at that girl and be ashamed of your-
self down to the ground!' And now you offer
to lend me money Oh, Polly, I would n't have
believed it of you!"
Polly felt convicted of sin, although she was
not very clear as to the reason. "Your mother
has been a very good friend to us, Edgar; why
should n't we help you a little, just for once?
Now let us go in to see mama, and we can talk
it over."
"If you pity me, Polly, don't tell her; I
could not bear to have that saint upon earth
worried over my troubles; it was mean enough
to add a feather's weight to yours."
Well, we won't do it, then," said Polly, with
maternal kindness in her tone. "We '11 find
some other way out of the trouble; but boys
are such an anxiety! Do you think, Edgar,
that you have reformed?"
Bless your soul! I 've kept within my allow-

ance for two or three months. As Susan Nip-
per says, I may be a camel, but I 'm not a
dromedary When I found out where I was, I
stopped; I had to stop and I knew it. I 'm all
right now, thanks to-several things. In fact,
I 've acquired a kind of appetite for behaving
myself now, and if the rascally debts were only
out of the way, I should be the happiest fellow
in the universe."
"You cannot apply to your father, so there
is only one thing to do -that is, to earn the
But how, when I 'm in college three fourths
of the day?"
I don't know," said Polly, hopelessly. I
can tell you what to do, but not how to do it:
I 'm nothing but a miserable girl."
I must stay in college, and I must dig and
make up for lost time; so most of my evenings
will be occupied."
"You must put all your 'musts' together,"
said Polly, decisively, and then build a bridge
over them, or tunnel through them, or span them
with an arch. We '11 keep thinking about it, and
I 'm sure something will turn up; I'm not discour-
aged a bit, you see, Edgar"; and Polly's face
flushed with feeling as she drew patterns on the
table-cloth with her tortoise-shell hair-pin. "You
see, of course, the good fairies are not going to
leave you in the lurch when you 've turned
your back on the ugly temptations, and are
doing your very best. And now that we 've
talked it all over, Edgar, I 'm not ashamed of
you! Mama and I have been so proud of
your successes the last month. She believes in
you! "
"Of course," said Edgar, dolefully; "because
she knows only the best."
"But I know the best and the worst too, and
I believe in you! It seems to me the best is
always the truest part of one, after all. No-
we are not going to be naughty any more; we
are going to earn that hateful Tony's money;
we are going to take all the class honors,-just
for fun, not because we care for such trifles,-
and we are going home for the summer holi-
days in a blaze of glory! "
Edgar rose with a lighter heart in his breast
than he had felt there for many a week. Good
night, Parson Polly," he said, rather formally,




for he was too greatly touched to be able to
command his tones; "add your prayers to your
sermons, and perhaps you 'll bring the black
sheep safely into the fold."
The quick tears rushed to Polly's eyes. She
feared she had annoyed him by too much ad-
vice. Oh, Edgar," she said, with a quivering
lip, "I did n't mean to pose or to preach! You
know how full of faults I am, and if I were a
boy I should be worse! I was only trying to
help a little, even if I am younger, and a girl!
Don't-don't think I was setting myself up as
better than you; that 's so mean and conceited
and small!"
Suddenly Edgar's heart throbbed with a new
feeling. He saw as in a vision the purity, fidel-
ity, and tender yearning of a true woman's
nature shining through a girl's eyes. In that
moment he wished as never before to be manly
and worthy. He seemed all at once to under-
stand his mother, his sister, all women better,
and with a quick impulsive gesture which he
would not have understood a month before, he
stooped over astonished Polly's hand, kissed it
reverently without a word, then closed the door,
and went to his room.

"I 'VE had a little adventure," said Polly to
her mother one afternoon. "I went out, for
the sake of the ride, on the Sutter street cable-
cars with Milly Foster. When we came to the
end of the line, Milly walked down to Geary street
to take her car home. I went with her to the
corner, and as I was coming back I saw a lady
in black alighting from an elegant carriage.
She had a coachman and footman, both with
weeds on their hats, and she seemed very sad
and grave; but she had such a sweet, beautiful
face that I was sorry for her the first moment I
looked at her. She walked along in front of
me toward the cemetery, and there we met
those little boys that stand about the gate with
bouquets. She glanced at the flowers as if she
would like to buy some, but you know how
hideous they always are,-every color of the
rainbow crowded in tightly together,-and she
looked away, dissatisfied. I don't know why

she had n't brought some with her-she looked
rich enough to buy a whole conservatory;
perhaps she had n't expected to drive there.
However, Milly Foster had given me a whole
armful of beautiful flowers (you know she has
a 'white garden'): there were white sweet peas,
Lamarque roses, and three stalks of snowy
Eucharist lilies. I need n't tell my own mother
that I did n't stop to think twice; I just stepped
up to her and said, 'I should like to give you
my flowers, please. I don't need them, and I
am sure they are just sweet and lovely enough
for the place you want to lay them.'
"The tears came into her eyes,--she was just
ready to cry at anything, you know,-and she
took them at once, and said, squeezing my
hand very tightly, I will take them, dear.
The grave of my own (and my only) little girl
lies far away from this,-the snow is falling
on it to-day,-but whenever I cannot give
the flowers to her, I always find the resting-
places of other children, and lay them there. I
know it makes her happy, for she was born on
Christmas Day, and she was full of the Christ-
mas spirit, always thinking of other people,
never of herself.'
"She did look so pale, and sad, and sweet,
that I began to think of you without your
troublesome Polly, or your troublesome Polly
without you; and she was pleased with the
flowers, and glad that I understood, and willing
to love anything that was a girl or that was
young-oh! you know, Mamacita, and so I
began to cry a little, too; and the first thing
I knew I kissed her, which was most informal,
if not positively impertinent. But she seemed
to like it, for she kissed me back again, and I
ran and jumped on the car, and here I am!
You will have to eat your dinner without any
flowers, madam, for you have a vulgarly strong,
healthy daughter, and the poor lady in black
has n't."
This was Polly's first impression of "the
lady in black," and thus began an acquain-
tance which was destined before many months
to play a very important part in Polly's fortunes
and misfortunes.
What "the lady in black" thought of Polly,
then and subsequently, was told at her own
fireside, where she sat, some six weeks later,



chatting over an after-dinner cup of coffee
with her brother-in-law.
"Take the arm-chair, John," said Mrs. Bird;
"for I have lots to tell you,' as the little folks
say. I was in the Children's Hospital about
five o'clock to-day. I have n't been there for
three months, and I felt guilty about it. The
matron asked me to go up-stairs into the chil-
dren's sitting-room-the one Donald and I fitted
up in memory of Carol. She said that a young
lady was telling stories to the children, but that
I might go right up and walk in. I opened the
door softly,-though I don't think the children
would have noticed if I had fired a cannon in
their midst,--and stood there, spellbound by the
loveliest, most touching scene I ever witnessed.
The room has an open fire, and in a low chair,
with the firelight shining on her face, sat that
charming, impulsive girl who gave me the flow-
ers at the cemetery-I told you about her.
She was telling stories to the children. There
were fifteen or twenty of them in the room,--all
the semi-invalids and convalescents, I should
think,-and they were gathered about her like
flies round a saucer of honey. Every child that
could was doing its best to get a bit of her dress
to touch, or a finger of her hand to hold, or an
inch of her chair to lean upon. They were the
usual pale, weary-looking children, most of
them with splints and weights and crutches,
and through the folding-doors that opened into
the next room I could see three more little
things sitting up in their cots and drinking in
every word with eagerness and transport.
"And I don't wonder. There is magic in
that girl for sick or sorrowing people. I wish
you could have seen and heard her. Her hair
is full of warmth and color; her lips and cheeks
are pink; her eyes are bright with health and
mischief, and beaming with love, too; her smile
is like sunshine, and her voice as glad as a wild
bird's. I never saw a creature so alive and
radiant, and I could feel that the weak little
creatures drank in her strength and vigor, with-
out depleting her, as flowers drink in the sun-
"As she stood up and made ready to go, she
caught sight of me, and ejaculated, with the
most astonished face: 'Why, it is my lady in
black!' Then, with a blush, she added,' Ex-

cuse me! I spoke without thinking-I always
do. I have thought of you very often since I
gave you the flowers; and as I did n't know
your name, I have always called you my lady
in black.'
"' I should be very glad to be your "lady" in
any color,' I answered, and my other name is
Mrs. Bird.' Then I asked her if she would not
come and see me. She said, 'Yes, with plea-
sure,' and told me also that her mother was
ill, and that she left her as little as possible;
whereupon I offered to go and see her instead.
Now, here endeth the first lesson, and here
beginneth the second, viz., my new plan, on
which I wish to ask your advice. You know
that all the money Donald and I used to spend
on Carol's nurses, physicians, and what not, we
give away each Christmas Day in memory of
her. It may be that we give it in monthly in-
stalments, but we try to plan it and let people
know about it on that day. I propose to create
a new profession for talented young women
who like to be helpful to others as well as
to themselves. I propose to offer this little
Miss Oliver, say, twenty-five dollars a month,
if she will go regularly to the Children's Hos-
pital and to the various orphan-asylums just
before supper and just before bedtime, and sing
and tell stories to the children for an hour. I
want to ask her to give two hours a day only,
going to each place once or twice a week; but
of course she will need a good deal of time for
preparation. If she accepts, I will see the
managers of the various institutions, offer her
services, and arrange for the hours. I am con-
fident that they will receive my protidg with
delight, and I am sure that I shall bring the
good old art of story-telling into fashion again,
through this gifted little girl. Now, John, what
do you think ? "
I heartily approve, as usual. It is a nov-
elty, but I cannot see why it 's not perfectly
expedient, and I certainly can think of no other
way in which a monthly expenditure of twenty-
five dollars will carry so much genuine delight
and comfort to so many different children.
Carol would sing for joy if she could know of
your plan."
Perhaps she does know it," said Mrs. Bird,


And so it was settled.
Polly's joy and gratitude at Mrs. Bird's pro-
posal baffles the powers of the narrator.
It was one of those things pleasant to be-
hold, charming to imagine, but impossible to
describe. After Mrs. Bird's carriage had been
whirled away, she watched
at the window for Edgar,
and, when she saw him
nearing the steps, did not
wait for him to unlock the
door, but opened it from the
top of the stairs, and flew
down them to the landing
as lightly as a feather.
As for Edgar himself,
he was coming up with un-
precedented speed, and
they nearly fell into each
other's arms as they both
exclaimed, in one breath,
"Hurrah!" and, then, in .
another, "Who told you? "
"How did you know
it?" asked Edgar. "Has
Tom Mills been here? "
"What is anybody by
the name of Mills to me
in my present state of
mind! exclaimed Polly.
"Have you some good .
news, too? If so, speak
out quickly."
Good news ? I should
think I had; what else
were you hurrahing about ?
I 've won the scholarship,
and I have a chance to
earn some money! TomPO
Mills's eyes are in bad con-
dition, and the oculist says he must wear blue
goggles and not look at a book for two months.
His father wrote to me to-day, and he asks if
I would read over the day's lessons with him
every afternoon or evening, so that he can keep
up with the class; and said that if I would do
him this great service he would be glad to pay
me any reasonable sum. He 'ventured' to write
me on Professor Hope's recommendation."
"Oh! Edgar, that is too, too good! cried
VOL. XX.-20.

Polly, jumping up and down in delight. "Now
hear my news. What do you suppose has
happened ?"
"Somebody has left you a million."
No, no! (scornfully) My lady in black,
Mrs. Donald Bird, has been here all the after-


noon, and she offers me twenty-five dollars a
month to give up the Baer cubs, and tell stories
two hours a day in the orphan-asylums and the
Children's Hospital! Just what I love to do!
Just what I always longed to do! Just what I
would do if I were a billionaire! Is n't it
heavenly ?"
"Well, well! We are in luck, Polly! Hurrah!
Fortune smiles at last on the Noble-Oliver
household. Let's have a jollification! Oh! I


forgot. Tom Mills wants to come to dinner.
Will you mind? "
"Let him come, goggles and all; we '11 have
the lame and the halt as well as the blind if we
happen to see any. Mama won't care. I told
her we 'd have a feast to-night that should vie
with any of the old Roman banquets! Here's
my purse; please go down on Polk street--
ride both ways--and buy anything extravagant
and unseasonable you canfind. Getforced toma-
toes; we 'll have 'chops and tomato sauce' k la
Mrs. Bardell; order fried oysters in a browned
loaf; get a quart of ice-cream, the most expen-
sive variety they have, and a loaf of the richest
cake in the bakery. Buy roses, or orchids, for
the table, and give five cents to that dirty little
boy on the corer there. In short, as Frank
Stockton says, Let us so live while we are up
that we shall forget we have ever been down!"
and Polly plunged up-stairs to make a toilet
worthy of the occasion.
The banquet was such a festive occasion that
Yung Lee's Chinese reserve was sorely tried,
and he giggled while waiting on the table.
Polly had donned a trailing black silk skirt
of her mother's, with a white chuddah shawl
for a court train, and a white lace waist to top
it. Her hair was wound into a knot on the
crown of her head and adorned with three long
black ostrich feathers, which soared to a great
height, and presented a most magnificent and
queenly appearance.
Tom Mills, whose father was four times a
millionaire, wondered why they never had such.

gay times at his home, and tried to fancy his
sister Blanche sparkling and glowing and beam-
ing over the prospect of earning twenty-five
dollars a month.
Then, when bedtime came, Polly and her
mother talked it all over in the dark.
"Oh, Mamacita, I am so happy! It 's such
a lovely beginning, and I shall be so glad, so
glad to do it! I hope Mrs. Bird did n't invent
the plan for my good (for I have been fright-
fully shabby each time she has seen me), but
she says she thinks of nothing but the children.
Now we will have some pretty things, won't
we ? and oh! do you think, not just now,
but some time in the distant centuries, I can
have a string of gold beads ? "
"I do, indeed," sighed Mrs. Oliver. "You
are certainly in no danger of being spoiled by
luxury in your youth, my poor little Pollikins;
but you will get all these things some time, I
feel sure, if they are good for you, and if they
belong to you. You remember the lines I read
the other day:
"Hast not thy share? On winged feet,
Lo! it rushes thee to meet;
And all that Nature made thy own,
Floating in air or pent in stone,
Will rive the hills and swim the sea
And, like thy shadow, follow thee."

"Yes," said Polly, contentedly; "I am satis-
fied. My share of the world's work is rushing
to meet me. To-night I could just say with
Sarah Jewett's Country Doctor, My God, I
thank Thee for my future.'"

(To be continued.)



INTO the world from far away
Where the year is always tuned to May
And the wind sounds soft as a lark aloft,
A conjurer came once on a day.
Many a mystic spell he knew
Wherewith to turn gray skies to blue;
To make dull hours grow bright as flowers,
And tasks that are old turn light as new.

A touch of his magic wand, and lo!
From empty hands sweet favors flow,
And pleasures bloom in lives of gloom
Where naught but sorrow seemed to grow.
Out of the stormy sky above
He brings white Peace, like a heavenly dove.
His might is sure and his art is pure,
And his name-the conjurer's name-is Love.


e Vr'ow tat lives by Haarlem Lake


By Haarlem Lake the old Vrow sits,
From morn till night she knits and knits,
She knits the stockings black and white, 4
And brown and gray, and loose and tight.
Knittety in de claver,
Knittety in de haver.

She never stops to eat or sleep,
She knits the wool all off the sheep,
She knits the yarn all out of shops,
She knits and knits, and never stops.
Knittety in de claver,
Knittety in de haver.

f, ftr~

And when the sun sets every day,
She packs the stockings safe away;
On every shelf and every board
By hundreds are the stockings stored.
Knittety in de claver,
Knittety in de haver.







A beggar-child came to her door,
The child no shoes nor stockings
But the Vrow, she turned the
child away,-
And began to shiver from that day.
I Knittety in de claver,
Knittety in de haver.
A warm cloak round her she does fold,
Yet the old Vrow is always cold;
A roaring fire of logs she makes,
And yet she shivers and she shakes.
Knittety in de claver,
Knittety in de haver.

With tearless eyes the old Vrow sees
The winter come and the people freeze;
In all the country, miles around,
There 's not a stocking to be found.
Knittety in de claver,
Knittety in de haver.

The stubborn kettle mocked her toil;
The water froze and would not boil;
Within the pan the sausage nice
Turned to a solid lump of ice.
Knittety in de claver,
Knittety in de haver.
She shook with cold, there by herself,
Till she shook the tea-cups from the shelf;
She shook the garments from the pegs,
She shook the tables off their legs.
Knittety in de claver,
Knittety in de haver.




And still she knits from morn till night,
And gives her stockings left and right;
The people call her "The good old Vrow,"
And she 's always warm and happy now.
Knittety in de claver,
Knittety in de haver.

Then the old Vrow from the door did call,
"Come here! Come here! good people all!"
And all came trooping through the snows,
And she gave them stockings for their toes.
Knittety in de claver,
Knittety in de haver.

By Haar lem Lake the old Wrow

sits, From morn till night she knits and
sits, r,,.. inrr. ill night sheo knits aLnd

knits, She knits the stock -ings black and white, And brown and gray and loose and tight.


Kcnit to ty in de cla er,

Knit te ty in de ha ver.




back in the year
'1- I834, Captain John
,-- .Ericsson, whom we
all remember as the
builder of the first
ironclad Monitor,"
applied for a patent
on a screw propeller
to be used in driv-
ing ships through
the water. Ten years
later the secretary of the British Admiralty per-
suaded that body to make a trial of the new
machine in the frigate "Arrogant."
The device was a success. The frigate went
faster than others of her size using sails alone;
she could move about in the water when there
was no wind, and when other ships were motion-
less or at anchor; and although her speed,
even with the wind, was but little increased,
and the sailors growled at having the ship's
hold filled up with tea-kettles and b'ilers,"
they had to admit that she was safer in a gale,
and could go better than before. Popular feel-
ing was against the propeller, however, and it
was not until 1852 that it was placed in the
larger ships of war.
All great inventions have to fight their way,
and this was no exception. It gradually came
into use among merchant ships, and when the
naval authorities saw its advantages most of
the opposition ceased, and they decided to try
it in the greatest ship they had. The Windsor
Castle had just been completed at the Royal
Dockyard, Pembroke. She was 255 feet long,
60 feet wide, and had three tiers of port-holes,
-room for 120 guns. She was the result of
years of labor, and was then the greatest war-
ship in the world.
It seemed a pity to desecrate this noble
craft by loads of coal, tons of oily machinery,
hot boilers, and a company of greasy engi-

neers," but it would never do to have Eng-
land's greatest war-ship lacking in anything
that could give her greater speed and strength.
Therefore it was decided to cut the vessel
in two, and lengthen her so as to accom-
modate the machinery. She was sawed di-
rectly through amidships, the stern was pushed
back twenty-three feet, and the gap built up
solid with the rest of the ship. When she was
launched the machinery was put in. Com-
plete, she was 278 feet long, and carried 20
more guns.
In making a report of this great ship to the
French Navy, Lieutenant Labrousse urged the
French also to adopt the propeller, and wrote
that the use of the screw as a means of pro-
pulsion is far from diminishing a ship's sailing
qualities. It is, on the contrary, capable of add-
ing to the certainties of navigation."
In 1859 we find the "Great Eastern"
using the propeller, but only as an aid to her
paddle-wheels. In fact, for many years there-
after, all the ocean steamers used paddles only.
The war-ships alone continued to experiment
with the propellers.
Now, however, everything has changed in
favor of the screw, and, except some light river-
boats drawing little water, all steamers are run
by propellers. Boats were soon built with pro-
pellers under the keel, then others used two,
one on either side of the keel, and now three
are being successfully operated.
Then came the days of "forced draft," when
the fire-rooms were closed up tight, and air
was pumped in to go roaring up through the
chimneys after fanning the fires into greater
heat. The engines worked faster, and the
ship's speed was increased; but the increase
soon reached a limit, for the boiler-room became
so hot that the poor firemen could not stay at
their posts for more than fifteen minutes at a
time. One hundred and sixty-five degrees was


the awful heat they had to work in recently on dred feet high. These have the same effect as
the fast United States ship Concord." The the tall factory chiniteys on land. The fire-
men fainted in front of the furnaces, and others men do not find this natural draft so oppressive,
were hard to hire. What was to be done ? and these smoke-stacks give a steam power that


r' _


S .. '



,- -,- .1 -.


The limit of speed for ships seemed to be
reached, while more speed was wanted.
Commodore George W. Melville, of the
United States Navy, has solved the puzzle by
designing a ship with smoke-stacks one hun-

sends the great ship, with spinning screws, at
the rate of twenty-six miles an hour. And, even
at this railway speed, she will use so little coal
that she can run 24,ooo miles, or almost around
the world, without renewing her supply.




1 h





GOOD DAY to you, my friends! The heart of
the winter is yours, and Jack at your honorable
service. The crisp, bright earth, when one knows
it well, is still as fair as in any month of the twelve.
One can read the writing of the bare branches
against the blue; and this clear, ringing, sport-
loving winter air makes me glad that a ST. NICH-
OLAS Jack-in-the-pulpit may be alert in all seasons.
And here I am reminded of an odd fancy that
lately came to this pulpit from Adalena F. Dyer.
You shall have it straightway. The lady calls it
JACK FROST is plucking geese to-day;
The snowy feathers everywhere,
Like white doves, take their silent way
Down through the frosty air.

They light on roof and fence-top brown,
They cling to naked trunk and bough,
They hide neathh coverlets of down
The hilltop's blighted brow.

They linger where the flowers'sleep
In dells by north winds never stirred;
They build in forest coverts deep
Warm homes for beast and bird.

When Jack Frost plucks his downy geese,
The children watch with noisy mirth,
To see the soft, white drifts increase,
And hide the faded earth.

Young blood is strong and mocks at cold,
And snow is just as warm as fleece
To boys and girls who revel hold,
When Jack is plucking geese.

THIS is very pretty, good poet, and as it should
be. Jack Frost may pluck his geese in his own

airy fashion with never a word of reproof from this
pulpit, you may be sure.
Now you shall hear my friend, Meredith Nugent
discourse upon one of the bright doings of that
bulky, brave and burly fellow-the Elephant:


ON hot summer days in New York, when the
mercury is well up in the nineties, it becomes almost
a necessity to carry an umbrella, or shade of some
kind, to protect ourselves from the burning rays of
the sun. We should hardlyexpect, however, a native
of India-residing in this city-to have the same
need for a sunshade, particularly when the native
is a huge Indian elephant. That an elephant
should feel the heat in our climate seems rather
absurd, but as he does, it is quite in keeping with
the general intelligence of this animal that he
should invent some means of protecting himself
from it.
The elephant inclosure in Central Park contains
no trees nor shade of any kind, and on those hot
days when the heat is almost unbearable, it seems
hotter there than any place in New York. Grouped
around the inclosure are usually scores of persons,
many withsunshades and umbrellas, intently watch-
ing the elephants. Some of the huge animals are
carefully tossing hay upon their own backs, whilst
others, whose backs are almost covered, may be
seen peacefully resting. Newly mown grass is what
the elephant prefers for this purpose,-perhaps be-
cause it feels cooler than hay,-but hay answers
the purpose very well. How many visitors to the
park on these warm days have realized that they
were not the only ones carrying sunshades, and
that the elephants were protecting themselves in
like fashion !
The fact that elephants never attempt to thatch
their backs with hay during the winter, although
the same opportunities for doing so exist, seems to
prove that they use the hay as a protection from
heat. They may sportively throw a little hay about,
but nothing more. However, in fly-time, there are
good and sufficient reasons for the animals adopt-
ing the same means of defense again; therefore,
when the flies are fierce, the elephants cover their
huge backs as on hot summer days. One can
readily see that in this way their backs would be
admirably protected from flies, while the constant
tossing of hay so that it falls all over the body would,
for a while, keep the annoying insects at bay. The
elephants will keep the flies away in this manner
even when under cover.
That elephants should be troubled by flies seems
almost as odd as that they should feel the sun of
our climate. Their powerful bodies are covered
with a skin that one would think would be proof
against all flies, but in spite of the elephant's rug-
gedness, he is a most sensitive creature. In his
native country, when carrying travelers, he will
sometimes stop by the roadside, select a leafy
switch about five feet long, and keep the flies at
bay by flapping his great body with it.
In their wild state, I suppose, elephants go out
in the sun but very little; the natural histories



2 .... ...


speak of their going to the pools at night to quench
thirst and to enjoy a frolic in the water. In the day-
time they usually are found beneath the friendly
shade of a grove of trees. Of course, with this nat-
ural shade there would be no necessity for them
to protect themselves from the sun by artificial
means, and the fact that they thatch their backs in
Central Park to shield them is only another proof
of the wonderful intelligence which these animals
always exhibit.

Now comes another curious story-a true story,
showing the ingenuity and skill of the little ants
that, I am told, often find their way into home-
pantries, and vex the souls of housekeepers. The
author, Lutie E. Deane, for reasons of her own,
tells this bit of natural history in verse; and so in
verse you shall hear it:
THE pastry was delicious, and I wanted it myself,
So I put it in the pantry on the very lowest shelf;
And to keep it from the insects, those ants so red and
I made a river round it of molasses, best of all.

But the enemy approached it, all as hungry as could be,
And the captain with his aide-de-camp just skirmished
round to see

Whether they could ford this river, or should try some
other plan,
And together with his comrades he around the liquid

To his joy and satisfaction, after traveling around,
The place where the molasses was the narrowest he
Then again he reconnoitered, rushing forward and then
Till he spied some loosened plaster in the wall around a

He divided then his forces, with a foreman for each
And he marshaled the whole army and before him
each ant trod.
His directions all were given; to his chiefs he gave a
While he headed the procession as they marched off
up the wall.

Every ant then seized his plaster, just a speck and
nothing more,
And he climbed and tugged and carried till he 'd
brought it to the shore;
Then they built their bridge, just working for an hour
by the sky,
After which they all marched over and all fell to
eating pie.






THREE elves sailed forth on a flake of snow,
And a great wind soon began to blow.
"We must take in sail at once," said they,
"With a yeo, heave ho !-heave ho, belay! "

Then they looked about them, fore and aft,
But they found no sail on their snowflake
"We must port our helm instead," said they,
" With a yeo, heave ho! -heave ho, belay "

But, alas, there wasn't a helm to shift,
So they ran aground on a big snowdrift.
"This is n't bad seamanship," said they,
"With a yeo, heave ho heave ho, belay "

" You can't reef sails that you have n't got,
Or port your helm where a helm is not;
But we know what should be done," said they,
"With a yeo, heave ho heave ho, belay! "

To Elftown straight from that spot they sped,
And they paced the streets with a naval tread.
"' T was a most successful cruise," said they,
"With our yeo, heave ho !-heave ho, belay,"



lour [ile chicken comirq in Q lihe
T' brir 1&eir 2olbter a meptine.


THE frontispiece to this number of ST. NICHOLAS
shows a very remarkable occurrence one that is per-
haps without a parallel in all history. During the in-
vasion of Holland by the army of the first French Re-
public, in 1794, word was brought to the invaders that
some of the Dutch ships were ice-bound in the Zuyder
Zee, and that the ice was thick enough to bear horsemen.
The French Hussars were at once sent galloping over
the ice, and succeeded in capturing the Dutch men-of-
war probably the only case where horsemen have cap-
tured an enemy's fleet at sea.

ANOTHER picture, that on page 296, is especially inter-
esting because it is taken from an actual photograph of
two snake-charmers and their cobras. ST. NICHOLAS
will give in an early number a paper by Mr. G. P.
O'Reilly, explaining how some of the Eastern snake-
charmers perform their feats.

Two of the illustrations to the article Battling under
Water" show instances of torpedo warfare, during our
Civil War,- the destruction of the "Tecumseh," which
led the fleet when Admiral Farragut passed the forts at
Mobile Bay, as described in a striking paper published
in The Century for June, 1881; and the sinking of the
Confederate ram Albemarle," while anchored in the
Roanoke River, N. C. Of this exploit Captain Warley,
commander of the Albemarle, declared, A more gallant

thing was not done during the war." In The Century
for July, 1888, Lieutenant Cushing, who destroyed the
ram, has told the thrilling story of his expedition.
A letter from the author of the article on submarine
boats, received since that article was put into type, gives
some later information. He writes :

The Gymnote has proved her superiority by severe
trials in the harbor of Toulon, and the "Zede," a new
boat now nearly complete, will be an even better boat of
the same general kind. The Peral" has lately failed
to meet the requirements of a commission of Spanish
naval experts. An experimental boat has been designed
and built by Naval Constructor Pullini, of Italy; it is of
one hundred tons burden, driven by an electric motor,
carries four men, and can remain under water for five
hours. Other details and its actual merits are not yet
known. Mr. George C. Baker, of Chicago, has built and
tried a new boat, that has a wooden, walnut-shaped
hull, is of seventy-five tons burden, driven by steam
when on the surface and by electricity when submerged.
Her side-screws not only propel the boat but regulate
her sinking. Her trial was on the Detroit River, May
24, 1892, in the presence of the Chief of the Navy Bureau
of Ordnance and other Government experts. With a
crew of two men, and supplied with only natural air, she
remained under water for I hour and 45 minutes. She
kept on an even keel, rose and descended repeatedly, and
was completely in control of her pilot. She is regarded
as a very promising boat--next to the Gymnote and
Zede. Mr. Baker had no knowledge of the subject till
attracted to it by magazine and periodical articles two or
three years ago, and yet he has now succeeded in making
the second-best boat.


DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We have taken you for thirteen
years, and I don't believe we have missed one number.
First you were taken for my eldest sister, and as she
grew older there were the rest of us to read you. There
are six children,--four girls and two boys,-so you see
we have a nice big family. One of my sisters is at
Smith's College, and we often have long and interest-
ing letters from her.
My father is stationed at a naval hospital near Mt.
Desert, Maine, where we go every summer. Papa is
the surgeon, and as there are no patients, we have a good
deal of fun. We play tennis, croquet, and go rowing, but
what we like most is sailing. One day we went quite
far out to sea. The waves were high, and the bow of
the sloop went under water. My brother and one of his
friends were standing near the bow. A big wave came,
and the sailor, seeing it, turned the sloop in such a way
that they got a. good ducking. I guess they felt rather
wet. Anyhow, the water just dripped off them as if
they had jumped overboard.
I remain your loving reader,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Our class have had most of your
letters and short stories for dictation, and we have never
yet seen a letter from Chestnut Hill, so we have each to
write one for our composition this week. The best ones
are going to be sent; mine is going first, and I hope it
will not be the last.
We have been taking you ever since there was such a
magazine as ST. NICHOLAS, and we shall never stop
taking you, for you are so interesting. We have many
bound volumes of you in the library, and happy is the
one whose turn it is to read one of these.
I am twelve years old, and have been going to boarding-
school Mt. Joseph's, on the Wissahickon for three
years; I am very happy here. I am in "Junior B,"
and we have nine in the class. We are a very happy party
of girls when at play, and very studious in study-time;
our time is divided into periods of three-quarters of an
hour. We rise very early, and retire generally at about
half-past eight; the children of the Elementary Depart-
ment go to the "Land of Shut-eye" at about half-past
seven. On Saturdays we take long walks; on Sundays
we write our letters.


After supper we are always free for about an hour
and a half, and during that time we dance, play some
games, or, if we are tired, a Sister reads us a story from
your magazine.
Recreation days are the glorious times, for then we are
free all day long; on those golden days a party of us get
together, play ball, lawn-tennis, or whatever we have
arranged to do. For weeks previous we have our pro-
gram made out. In the evenings of those free days we
usually dress up in costume.
I remain your interested reader, SYBIL G---.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I think I will write you some-
thing about the celebrated Thousand Islands, near which
we live, and let some boys and girls know something
about the beauties of our Canadian scenery.
Part of the great St. Lawrence River is covered with
islands of all sizes. On some of these islands there are
built beautiful summer residences, which are occupied
through the summer months by families from all over
Canada and the United States.
Last summer there was a government auction of the
islands, and purchasers were obliged, within two years,
to have a residence built on their island costing not less
than one thousand dollars. Some of these islands are
owned by very distinguished personages.
The finest of all the islands is the Thousand Island
Park, on which is built a hotel where there are many
Americans. Two summers ago it was burned, but it has
since been rebuilt.
You are sent to us by a kind lady, who has sent you
for five years.
Wishing you every success, and a Merry Christmas
and a bright and prosperous New Year, I am your loving
admirer, H. M. F- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am going to tell you about
some ivy. It is a true story.
About Christmas-time, last year, I saw it peeping
through the ventilation hole, which is under the fireplace.
I wanted to keep it a secret, so I did not tell any one.
About six months afterward my sister called our atten-
tion to it; the rest were very surprised, but of course I
was not, as I had seen it before. The ventilation hole
connects with outdoors, where there is some ivy grow-
ing. It had a hard time growing outside, so one branch
came through. It shows that life can go into darkness
and come out as fresh as ever.
I remain your devoted reader, ETHEL G-.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl thirteen years
old. I go to Sapelo Island, on the coast of Georgia,
every summer, to visit my grandpa. I have a lovely
time there; all of my cousins come too.
I learned to swim there. We go in bathing every day.
Once last summer we went out on a pilot-boat, and
we met a tug-boat bringing in a schooner.
The last time you came was my birthday, and I read
you all day. Your little reader, SUSIE B-- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl eleven years
old. Last winter my papa and mama took me to Cuba,
and I thought I would tell you about it.
At Port Tampa, Florida, we took a steamer for Cuba.
It was a beautiful boat, called the Olivette."
The steamer left the wharf at night. All the next day
we were on the water. That night the boat reached

Key West, anchored there about two hours, and the next
morning, at daybreak, entered the harbor of Havana, but
we could not go up to the wharf, for ours was an Ameri-
can boat, so we anchored near the dock.
Presently a great many little boats came flocking
around us; they were very small, and had a framework
over the seats with a piece of canvas stretched over it.
We took a boat and went ashore. When we got there,
we entered a hack and rode to the hotel. Such queer
sights as we saw--so many uniformed soldiers, and lit-
tle mules with bright red tassels on their harness.
Every morning before breakfast we went out on the
balconies and watched guard-mounting, and after break-
fast we went to market. I thought it was the queerest
of all.
They bring the things to market by placing immense
panniers made of straw on the horse's back, and loading
them down with sugar-cane, and potatoes, and oranges
and bananas, and a great many other things.
We stayed in Cuba ten days, and then went back to
Port Tampa. It was a novel and pleasant experience.
Yours sincerely, AGNES M. R- .


DEAR EDITOR OF ST. NICHOLAS I am a little girl,
seven years old.
I had four allegateors sent me from florida. Three have
died from a disease, my uncle calls it dispeptia, the other
one seems to miss them but still eats. My uncle says he
weeps crocodile tears, but aint he funny. I hope you will
print my letter as I want to surprise uncle Georgy.
Please excuse my spelling.
Your ever reader FLOSSIE H- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have read so many letters
from your readers that I thought you could find a little
room for my letter.
I have traveled all over Europe; I have also been
South and West. When I was at Bremen I went to a
fair, which is given every year. It is usually given the
last of October.
Bremen is not a very large town; it has few streets.
There is one street which is very wide, and it runs
through a small park. This street goes to another street
where all the shops are.
Near this street is an open square, where there is a
large circus. This circus is not like the ones in America.
It is in a large wooden house. Inside it is very pretty;
the seats are more like the ones in an opera-house.



There is only one ring in the middle, and only one thing
at a time is going on. Next to the circus is a merry-go-
round, and other amusements. The streets during the
fair are crowded. On both sides of the streets are stands
or counters with covers. The best time to see the fair
is by night, when the streets are lighted.
I am sincerely yours, ANITA LENORE H- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: The story "Two Girls and a
Boy" has interested me a great deal because my past
summer's experience is so similar to Mildred's.
Though I did n't come from Washington and did n't
go to California, I came from Hartford, Connecticut, to
Wyoming; and I know just how Mildred felt when she
was on the trains, and when she crossed the Missouri
When we reached the end of our railroad journey,
Papa met us with the same kind of a wagon that Mildred
rode to her cousin's ranch in.
Don't you think it is very queer that the ranch we are
on is called the "Sweet Water ranch too ?
We had to ride sixty-five miles in a wagon, while Mil-
dred only had to ride thirty.
My brother and I can ride horseback pretty well. We
each have a pony.
I am eleven years old.
From a reader who looks forward to you every month.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I think maybe your readers
might be interested in how my sister Marion and myself
were in quarantine this summer. We went north and
passed a very pleasant summer in the Catskills and other
places, and we returned home during the cholera scare
in September, on the S. S. Comal," with our friend Cap-
tain R- with whom we had sailed four times before.
We had a very pleasant time on board, and the captain
was very kind to us.
When we were going out of New York harbor, we
passed the cholera ships and looked at them with great
curiosity, wondering how it would seem to be quaran-
tined, not dreaming that we ourselves might be. When
we reached Galveston Bay we were told by the pilot we
were to be quarantined five days. We were very much
surprised, and wondered how we should pass the time;
but, oh! it passed too quickly. We had great fun riding
backward and forward on the tug, the "Hygeia," which
took the things from the ship to the island on which the
fumigator was. There we bathed and fished, and I never
enjoyed anything more. The quarantine doctor, Dr.
B- was very kind to us, and he and the captain did
everything in their power for us. When the end came
we were very, very sorry indeed, and we then returned
Of course we were glad to get home, and I found a
safety bicycle awaiting my arrival. It was present from
papa. We each have apony, and both of them are white,
and we enjoy riding them very much.
Your sincere reader, ALICE WHITE B- .

MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am going to tell you of
the lovely times I have in the country. Our country
residence is in the eastern part of New York State, nine
miles' drive from Schenectady. When I am there I ride
horseback and drive. I was also in Dorchester, Mass.,
in the summer. One day we went to Salem and saw

many historical things. One was a church that was built
in 1629; the beams are the same old ones, but the siding
is new. In Essex Institute we saw the lock from the
door of the room in which the Declaration of Indepen-
dence was written, the mittens and shirt that Governor
Bradford was baptized in, the carving-knife and fork that
Napoleon Bonaparte used at St. Helena, a piece of the
chair Penn sat in when he made the treaty with the
Indians, and two bottles of the tea that was thrown over-
board at the Boston tea-party,-it was found in the shoes
of Lot Cheever after removing his disguise,-and many
other things. I am your constant reader, PEGGY.



WE go every day
To a little school,
Where the teacher is strict
If you break a rule.

And the scholars are fond
Of their studies and books,
And don't get from the teacher
Many bad looks.

But sometimes the boys
Have to go in a corner,
Where they can't have a plum,
Like "little Jack Horner."

And some are kept in
If they break a rule,
And they don't like that part
Of the Deestrick Skule."

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I want to tell you what hap-
pened last night. We live on a farm and have several
horses. There is a wood-house attached to the house.
My bedroom is in the corner of the house nearest the
wood-house, and last night I heard a good deal of noise
in the wood-house; it sounded like a horse stamping.
Papa went down into the shed, and there, in the dark,
was one of our oldest horses eating apples out of a bag.
I have taken the ST. NICHOLAS a long time, ever since
1880, and I like it very much.
Your loving reader, OWEN S- .

WE thank the young friends whose names follow for
pleasant letters received from them: Nora K., Frank
S. C., C. H. B., Edmund O., I. L. J. M., Phyllis W.,
Charlie A., E. E. M., L. M. V., Maude M., Claire Van
G., Madelaine and Juliette F., Elsie C. C., Neely T., Na-
than A., Robert W. M., Daisy R., E. M. B., Marguerite
and Nona S., Margaret D. R., Edward B. S., Margaret
H., Edith and Stuart H., L. B., E. B., Muriel W. C.,
Estelle S. de G., Diana H., Louise M. W., Adelaide,
Louise P., Rhea E., Gertrude H., Mabel B., Flora C.
and Grace B., Theresa B., Sarah L., E. G. M., Elizabeth
H. M., B. D. M.and G. S. R., Charles G. N. Jr., George
R. DeB., Harriet C. T., J. J. La F., Edwin B., Agnes
B., Joseph K. A., Alice McA., Ethel C., Marie 0., Sara
L. H., N. and S., Olga B., Vida L., Edna I. D., Muriel
A. B., Hazel S., Gay R. T., T. L., A. B. D., M. A. G.
and A. C. H., Ellen J., Hazel L. E., Evan T. S.


DOUBLE ACROSTIC. Primals, D; finals, opposite. Cross-words: CONCEALED WORDS. "Toys" and "candy."
i. Dido. 2. Deep. 3. Drop. 4. Dodo. 5. Dais. 6. Demi. 7. Dint. HOLLOW STAR. From I to 2, cantata; to 3, crabbed; 2 to 3,
8. Dime. aground; 4 to 5, canvass; 4 to 6, charred; 5 to 6, subdued.
WORD-BUILDING. E, Ed, den, rend, trend, tender, tenders, resi- PI. I hear you, blithe new year, ring out your laughter
dent, president. And promises so sweet:
PENTAGONS. Counter-charmed. I. i. C. 2. Boa. 3. Bouts. I see the circling months that follow after,
4. Counter. 5. Attire. 6. Serge. 7. Reel. II. i. C. 2. She. Arm-linked, with waltzing feet.
3. Shard. 4. Charmed. 5. Ermine. 6. Dents. 7. Desk. Before my door I stand to give you greeting,
ZIGZAG. "Mantuan Swan." Cross-words: a. Mob. 2. Car. 3. Bin. Ands her afar th echoes sill repeating
4. Ate. 5. Una. 6. Sap. 7. Ban. 8. Ask. 9. Wan. o1. Tan. xi. Fun. Your trills of jocund song.
SYNCOPATIONS. Murillo. I. Chamois, mosaic. 2. Premium, um- CONNECTED SQUARES. I. I. Idaho. 2. Droop. 3. Aorta
pire. 3. Correct, rector. 4. Diction, indict. 5. Elegant, legate. 4. Hotel. 5. Opals. II. a. Rollo. 2. Ocean. 3. Leaps. 4. Lapse.
6. Glisten, legist. 7. Inroads, ordain. 5. Onset. III. I. Solar. 2. Osage. 3. Laden. 4. Agent. 5. Rents.
ILLUSTRATED METAMORPHOSIS. Hens, lens, legs, logs, cogs, IV. i. Taper. 2. Amice. 3. Pills. 4. Eclat. 5. Rests.
cows, cowl, coil, coin, coon, coop.
To OUR PUZZLERS: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the i5th of each month, and
should be addressed to ST. NICHOLAS Riddle-box," care of THE CENTURY CO., 33 East Seventeenth St., New York City.
ANSWERS TO ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE NOVEMBER NUMBER were received, before November x5th, from Josephine Sherwood -
L. O. E.-Maude E. Palmer-Paul Reese-"Guion Line and Acme Slate Co."-"The McG's"-Chester B. Sumner-Mama and
Jamie-E. M. G.-Uncle Mung-"The Peterkins"--Helen C. McCleary-Alice Mildred Blanke and Co.-Jo and I-"The Wise
Five minus Jim "-" Infantry "- "Hector and Rhipeus"-" Cranston and Doctor"- Ida C. Thallon-Blanche and Fred- Ida and
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE NOVEMBER NUMBER were received, before November igth, from Minnie and Lizzie, I Elaine S., --
Carrie Chester, i- Grace Isabel Shirley, i- S. A. Gardner, x- C. Wagner, x- Alice V. Farquhar, 3- Mama and Clara, 2-" Stars
and Stripes," i-Etta and Agnes Sonntag, i -E. S. Bauer, i--H. M. Landgraff, i -D. Neville Smith, I--F. E. and A. T. R., I-
Nannie L., i-" Mama and Sadie," 4 -Effie K. Talboys, 7- Melville Hunnewell, 5 Hubert L. Bingay, 7 Laura M. Zinser, 7-Jessie
Chapman, ao-D. F. Hereford, 8- Nellie Archer, 3 -Bessie R. Crocker, 5- Gwendolen Reid, 6-Louise L. Hubbard, 2-Harriet L.
Rose, x -Elizabeth C. Grant, 3-Lillian Davis, i-" Number Thirteen," 2 -Rosalie Bloomingdale, 9-" May and '79," 4-" We
Girls," 8-" Wareham," ao- Mama and Marion, 3.

MY primals and finals name the same hero.
CROSS-WORDS (of equal length): I. A famous soldier.
2. A river flowing into the Atlantic Ocean. 3. The
state of a poet. 4. A musical term meaning "indis-
pensable." 5. The quantity sufficient to fill a ladle. 6.
To relax or weaken. 7. A Scripture narrative set to
music. 8. A famous Corsican. "SCAEVOLA."


I. UPPER DIAMOND: I. In flocks. 2. A unit.
3. Faulty. 4. Pertaining to the hip. 5. To hinder.
6. A very small draught. 7. In flocks.
II. LEFT-HAND DIAMOND: I. In flocks. 2. A
masculine.nickname. 3. A giver. 4. A crank. 5. Cele-
brated. 6. Disencumber. 7. In flocks.

III. CENTRAL DIAMOND: I. In flocks. 2. A state
of equality. 3. Popish. 4. A large letter. 5. Classed.
6. A youth. 7. In flocks.
IV. RIGHT-HAND DIAMOND: I. In flocks. 2. A
rug. 3. A slimy substance. 4. Pithy. 5. A musical
adjuster. 6. A title. 7. In flocks.
V. LOWER DIAMOND: I. In flocks. 2. A vehicle.
3. To provide food. 4. Pertaining to the sides. 5. A
small fruit. 6. A line of light. 7. In flocks. H.


I. IN singer. 2. A number. 3. Modifies. 4. A
book of the Old Testament. 5. Collections of boxes.
6. A familiar abbreviation. 7. In singer.


I AM composed of one hundred and nine letters, and am
a saying of Beau Brummel's.
My 43-62-94 is to entreat. My 80-70-55-13 is twelve
months. My 48-21-40-89-5-0o8-29 is an apparition.
My 58-99-45-84-16 is a hard, black wood. My 37-82-
o14-I9-II is very particular. My 27-65-74-33-92-76 is
ordinary quartz. My 87-2-22-60-63 is a sea-duck. My
17-24-34-8 is gaunt. My 67-96-72-15-78 is a passage
into which the pews of a church open. My 1-52-3-105 -
69-6-98-109 is one whose pursuits are those of civil life.
My 90-30-57-102 is a strong broth. My 32-107-59-20-
9 is a king of Tyre, mentioned in the second book of
Samuel. My 26-86-36-41 is the "Buckeye State."
My 56-14-o10 is suitable. My 88-83-64-38-47 is the
smallest liquid measure. My 77-4-93-42-81 is the
greenlet. My 49-100-18-35-71-44-25-75 is grace. My
79-54-10-95-103-51 is obscurity. My 7-12-23-28-31 -
39-46-50-53-61-66-68-73-85-91-97-106 are all the same



ILLUSTRATED PUZZLE. to side, and leave a missile weapon of offense. 6. Be-
FIND in the accompanying badge the name of a fa- head an apparition, and leave a number of men gath-
mous American, and a quotation from a eulogy upon ered for war. 7. Behead agitation of mind, and leave
him. J. C. B. action. 8. Behead a large river,
2 and leave a whetstone.
A HEXAGON. The beheaded letters will spell
the name of a French lyric poet,
S0 ,- born in Paris, in 1780.

I. A soft mineral. 2. Watchful. 3
Residents. 4. Having the margin cut
into rounded notches or scallops. 5.
Followed by some mark that had been
left by a person or thing that had pre-
ceded. 6. A spirited horse for state
or war. 7. A mythological book of
the old Scandinavian tribes, c. D.


IN each of the ten following sayings
a word of five letters is omitted.
When these ten words are rightly
guessed and placed one below another,
in the order here given, the central let-
ters, reading downward, will spell the
name of a famous poet, who was born
in February, 1807.
I. Idle * are always med-
2. A bird is * by its note,
and a man by his talk.
3. Make yourself all *,and
the flies will devour you.
4. A * is a fool's argument.
5. * a fool your finger, and
he will take your whole hand.
6. A small leak will sink a *
7. A person's a ought to
be his greatest secret.
8. He that shows his ill temper *
his enemy where he may hit
9. A rascal a a rich has lost
all his kindred.
to. Do as most do, and *
will speak evil of thee.


A distinguished poet:


I. BEHEAD the staff of life, and leave
to peruse. 2. Behead a place of dark-
ness, and leave a pictorial enigma.
3. Behead to attain by stretching forth
the hand, and leave every. 4. Behead
an unbeliever, and leave a believer. 5.
Behead having little distance from side


Z LU IST x 2


ACROSS: I. A fish. 2. To be di-
minished. 3. An exterior covering of
a seed. 4. A hideous cry.
DOWNWARD: I. To swing from
side to side. 2. A fleet animal. 3. A
plant yieldingindigo. 4. Awoodyglen.
From I to 4, to begin a voyage; from
S4 to I, a geological stratum.


ALL the words described contain the
same number of letters. When rightly
guessed and placed one below the other,
Sthe initials will spell a famous battle.

To change in some respect. 3. A sub-
ject on which a person writes. 4. A
gold coin of the United States. 5. To
rule. 6. A spear carried by horsemen.
7. A color. 8. To suppose.

I 4

5 6

FROM I to 2, a slender rod on which
anything turns; from I to 3, arachnids;
from 2 to 3, enrolls; from 4 to 5, aching;
from 4 to 6, short oars; from 5 to 6, con-
jectures. "ANNA CONDOR."

ACROSS: I. A snake found in In-
dia. 2. An insect. 3. A cover for the
front of a dress. 4. A short fishing-
line. 5. More aged.
DOWNWARD: I. In turkey. 2. A
tone of the diatonic scale. 3. An ec-
clesiastical pitcher. 4. Little demons.
5. An inferior kind of tin-plate. 6. An
implement. 7. To bow slightly. 8. A
Latin prefix. 9. In turkey.


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