Front Cover
 Front Matter
 A boy of the first empire
 The ballade of belvidere
 William Cullen Bryant
 The litter watcher
 Tommy looks ahead
 The mouse in the wall
 A candy-man in the sun
 The generous side
 Queen Victoria's dogs
 Jack Ballister's fortunes
 Noon and night
 The seals of our shores
 Against time and tide
 The brownies through the union
 The great horn spoon and the enterprising...
 The ancient game of golf
 Rhymes of the states
 The kittens' circus
 The random shot
 Tell-tale tracks
 A day with baby
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Matter
 Back Cover

Title: St. Nicholas
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00290
 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: VID00290
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 Matter
        Page 1
        Page 2
    A boy of the first empire
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
    The ballade of belvidere
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
    William Cullen Bryant
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
    The litter watcher
        Page 19
    Tommy looks ahead
        Page 20
    The mouse in the wall
        Page 21
    A candy-man in the sun
        Page 21
    The generous side
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
    Queen Victoria's dogs
        Page 28
        Page 29
    Jack Ballister's fortunes
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
    Noon and night
        Page 40
        Page 41
    The seals of our shores
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
    Against time and tide
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
    The brownies through the union
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
    The great horn spoon and the enterprising boy
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
    The ancient game of golf
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
    Rhymes of the states
        Page 78
        Page 79
    The kittens' circus
        Page 80
    The random shot
        Page 81
    Tell-tale tracks
        Page 81
    A day with baby
        Page 82
        Page 83
    The letter-box
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
    The riddle-box
        Page 87
        Page 88
    Back Matter
        Page 90
    Back Cover
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
Full Text

loll tq-

'41 WX


''" I '
_- "~lli~r ...... ...
_.-', .: h''.fl M. ,t-..,

4 1



#1* ,v e
A~s A~

r ,4

*/' ,*j




ON a certain June morning in the year 80o6,
when the sunshine flooded all things, and every
nightingale in France seemed practising for the
post of court singer, a boy lay at the foot of
one of the great chestnuts in the park of St.
He was small, disreputable-looking, and di-
lapidated,- a tramp, and a ragged little tramp
at that; but his eye was bright and snappy;
his tangled hair, crowned with the wreck of
a red liberty-cap, was thick and golden; and
his face, though it bore the stamp of poverty
as it bore its crust of grime, had that careless,
happy-go-lucky air that marks the street-boy of
any great city.
His restless eyes took in everything the noble
park had to offer. He was evidently on the
lookout for some place or some person. But,
tired with his ten-mile tramp, and overpowered
by the glorious solitude of all out-of-doors-
burdened, also, with the weight of the impor-
tant secret that had led him so far from his dingy
home in the narrow Street of the Washerwomen,
he had flung himself down at the foot of the

great chestnut to talk it all over with himself
for want of a listening comrade.
My faith!" he said, as he closed one eye
and squinted the other along the fat tree-trunk,
and into the over-arching branches, but this
is n't the Court of the Miracles now, nor yet
the Street of the Washerwomen, is it? What
big trees! What a lot of room! Lonesome,
though, I think, when the night comes down;
even the Street of the Washerwomen would be
better than this, for there are plenty of people
there,-more than a plenty sometimes, especi-
ally when that pig of a Pierre comes shoving
across the street to tease Babette and set my
two fists a-going! But I like people. There 's
more to see in a crowd of people than in a
crowd of trees -more to do, too. But here 's
where the Little Corporal's big house is, some-
where among these trees. I wonder where?
I saw a pile of buildings on the hill far-
ther along, as I came up here. Perhaps I can
find the Emperor there. I must; I must n't
say what I came for to any one else. I wonder
how one talks to an emperor? Must I say
' Citizen Emperor,' or Citizen Little Corporal,'
or Citizen' what? I must find out before I
get up to his house. I '11 have to ask some-


Copyright, 1894, byTHE CENTURY Co. All rights reserved.



No. I.


body. See! There's some one moving through
those trees. Hi, there, Citizen! No, it is n't
a man; it's boy. No, it 'sa dog; no, it 's a
- my faith, though i what can it be ? It 's not
a dog, nor a horse, nor a pig, nor yet a--it
must be a sheep or a wolf. There 's another
-and another-and more of them; and a
man, too. Perhaps they are wolves-the
beasts that Mother Th6erse says eat you up in
the forest. Perhaps they will eat the man up.
What fun! I don't want them to eat me,
though. So; I '11 slip behind this big tree, and
see what is to be." And, suiting the action to
the word, the boy, who, half raised from the
ground, had been watching with wide-open eyes
the moving figures, scrambled to his feet, and,
sheltered behind the big chestnut, peered around
the trunk, anxious to see what might be about
to happen. For a boy of the Paris streets had
but vague ideas as to the ways of forest life,
and, though inquisitive, was cautious.
Across the open space that lay between the
wide avenue and the grove of stately chestnut-
trees came the figure of a man, and at his heels,
sniffing and thronging, moved the creatures that
were so strange and inexplicable to the peeping
city-boy-a dozen of the tame Barbary ante-
lopes of St. Cloud.
They were dainty, timorous, graceful little
beasts; but desire had overcome timidity, and
they trooped after the man, now crowding all
about him, now starting back in alarm as he
plunged his hand into his coat-pocket; but at
him again they charged when his hand was
withdrawn, and one and then another of the
antelopes would thrust a brown muzzle into the
extended hand, and, with sneeze and snort, lick
up the powdery offering it held.
The man was of medium height, long of
body and short of legs, rather stout but yet not
fat. His age was less than forty; his face was
fine and cleanly-cut, though tanned by sun and
weather. From his tumbled brown hair rose a
plain cocked hat, set well forward on his large
head. He wore a long and thin gray over-
coat, and in. the deep pockets lay the loose
snuff, for a taste of which the thronging ante-
lopes were nosing and pushing one another,
eager for preference.
The boy behind the tree gazed intently at the

curious group that passed him, forgetting his
own mission in the interest it excited. Then,
remembering his desire, he was about to call
out Hi, Citizen!" and ask how he could see
and what he should call the Emperor, when
through the trees came the shrill call of a child:
"Uncle Bibiche, Uncle Bibiche--oh, Uncle
The antelopes, startled by the call, stopped
their nosing and pushing, and looked back in
alarm; the man with the snuff in his overcoat-
pocket also looked back, and his face broke
into a smile of welcome.
"So, little pig; it is you, then?" he said. "Do
you, too, wish the snuff? Come; come and
catch us"; and he broke away in a run, fol-
lowed by the trooping antelopes.
Wait, wait, Uncle Bibiche; wait for Baby!"
the little runner panted. Baby wants a ride."
But as he hurried fast and faster after the
runaways, his little foot caught in a half-ex-
posed root; he tripped and fell, rolling down
the bit of bank where rose the great chestnut-
tree behind which stood the boy from Paris.
A cry of surprise that grew into the loud wail
of grief broke from the sprawling one, and Uncle
Bibiche turned quickly about and hurried toward
him. But, before the man could reach the scene
of disaster, the street-boy had darted from his
hiding-place and picked up the prostrate baby.
Hi, there, little one! Come up, come up,"
he said. So; you are not hurt now, are you? "
and he brushed the dirt from the fine clothes
of the child.
Uncle Bibiche, too, dropped on his knees
and drew an arm about the child, who, even in
his grief, remembered the treat he sought: "A
ride-Uncle-Bibiche, I-want-a ride," he
Yes, he shall have a ride, so he shall, sha'n't
he, Citizen Uncle ? said the street-boy, sooth-
ingly, still brushing away the dust.
Uncle Bibiche turned a searching eye upon
the speaker. "Well, boy, and how came you
here ? Where did you drop from ?" he de-
"Not from the sky, Citizen Uncle," the boy
replied glibly. "I am of the city."
"From the city ? Then how got you here ?"
Uncle Bibiche asked.


The boy laughed. "Why, Citizen Uncle,
with the same horses the Emperor has to carry
him Shank and Spindle "; and he slapped
each stout little leg in explanation.
The man in the gray coat pulled the street-
boy's tangled hair: "You 're a bold talker,
you," he said. And the child, who had been
peering into the dirty face of his rescuer,
caught at the word "horses" and echoed
"Baby wants horse, too; carry Baby!" he
"Why, of course, little one; I carry babies
every day," the boy responded; and, catching
up the child, he began to prance and trot with
him, like a mettlesome charger.
The baby laughed, and Uncle Bibiche
laughed, flicking at the make-believe horse
with his silk handkerchief as though it were
a whip, whereupon the child repeated his de-
mand: Uncle Bibiche, Baby wants to ride
sheep now," pointing toward the antelopes.
So; I said they were sheep," the boy cried.
"How do you ride them ?"
"Uncle Bibiche knows. Let Baby ride
sheep," the spoiled child clamored.'
All right, Citizen Uncle; he 's yours," and
the boy sat the little fellow on the ground.
But the baby, grasping Uncle Bibiche's long
coat with one hand, with the other clung to his
new friend. "Let dirty boy go, too," he de-
Uncle Bibiche plunged a hand into his ca-
pacious coat-pocket and drew it out, filled with
snuff, seeing which action the antelopes thronged
about him again. Clapping a hand upon each
of the child's shoulders, Uncle Bibiche lifted the
small fellow from the ground and set him astride
the back of one of the antelopes.
Steady him on the other side, you boy,"
said Uncle Bibiche. Then, with the street-boy
holding him on one side and Uncle Bibiche
on the other, the little rider laughed aloud in
glee as, mounted on his queer steed, he rode
along the broad, chestnut-bordered avenue of
St. Cloud.
But the boy from Paris could not long keep
quiet. He remembered his errand, too.
Citizen Uncle," he said; "might one see
the Emperor ?"

"Yes, one might," Uncle Bibiche replied.
" For example, you ? "
"For example, me," the boy declared. "I
have business with him."
At this Uncle Bibiche laughed loudly, where-
upon the antelope-rider laughed, and the boy
from Paris laughed too.
And what might be your business with the
Emperor, bold one ?" Uncle Bibiche inquired.
"That is for him to know," the boy an-
swered. But tell us, Citizen Uncle; what
should one call him? Should one say--Citizen
Emperor-or- Citizen Little Corporal-or-
Citizen what ? "
Uncle Bibiche looked across the antelope at
his questioner. Then he said to the rider, who
was kicking his small legs against the side of
his uneasy steed, Dirty boy wants to see the
Emperor, little pig. What shall the boy call
the Emperor, eh ? "
Call him Grandpapa," replied the little lad
promptly, and then all three laughed gleefully
But it is not to be laughed at, my business,
Citizen Uncle," the boy from Paris said soberly.
"It is to save the Emperor's skin."
"And from whom would you save his skin,
you boy?" Uncle Bibiche inquired.
"That is our business, too -mine and the
Emperor's," said the boy, earnestly.
S" None may see the Emperor on business,
here save those who tell their business before
they see him," Uncle Bibiche explained. "Tell
me your business, and I will get speech of the
Emperor for you;. for me he will sometimes
hear. What would you say to -him ?"
The boy from Paris looked searchingly at
Uncle Bibiche. Then he said: "Jacques has
gone for a soldier; Pierre has gone for a
soldier. They will fight for the Little Corporal,
and perhaps bring back the cross as did one-
legged Antoine, who lives just beyond us in the
Street of Jean Lantier. Perhaps if the Emperor
hears what I have to tell him, he will let me go
for a soldier, too. Citizen Uncle, let me see the
Emperor." Then he lowered his voice: "A
plot; I know of a plot against him. I would
save his life."
"A plot? You know of a plot against the
Emperor, you boy? What is it? Out with


it!" and the gray eyes looked sternly at the
eager, but ragged, little petitioner on the other
side of the antelope. Do you speak truth,
you boy?"
Why should I lie ? the boy said, meeting
the sharp gray eyes without flinching. I have
walked from the Street of the Washerwomen for
this not to lie to the Emperor, Citizen Uncle,
but to tell him what I know. Let me see him,
then. Where is he ? "
Uncle Bibiche caught the four-year-old rider
from the antelope's back, and stood him on the
Attention, comrade! he said, as if giving
an order. Who is the Emperor?"
And the little fellow, standing straight as a
ramrod, brought his hand to his
forehead in soldierly salute.
"Uncle Bibiche! he said.


It was great sport for the little four-year-old,
though a trifle rough, perhaps. But he enjoyed
it immensely. As for Uncle Bibiche, he laughed
aloud and said, You 're a crazy one, you boy.
You caper and sing like a carmagnole. Tell
us, who are you ? "
The boy stopped short in his mad dance, and
a roguish twinkle made his eyes yet more
"I, Citizen Uncle," he said,- and here he
clicked his heels together and brought his hand
in salute to his shock of golden hair just as he
had seen his little playmate do,--"I am a
prince of the sans-culottes! "
Uncle Bibiche made a dash at the boy's ear
and pinched it in high glee. You 're a crazy

THE boy from Paris fell back
in astonishment. Then he laughed
in nervous dismay, and then, in
open distrust. s
"What! Citizen Uncle the
Emperor? Come now, Baby, but
that's a good one Why he 'snot
little; he's bigger than Jacques, /
and they call the Emperor the
Little Corporal; and he marches
about with his guards, and wears ..
a gold crown on his head. And
this one-why, this is only just
Uncle Bibiche. You 're playing
the fool with us, you little one, are -
you not, now? Come, then, if
you but show me the way to the
Emperor, I '11 give you the song
and dance with which I pay my
toll over the Little Bridge, when "UNCLE BBIBCHE!'
I go to the Isle of the City." And, catching the one, you boy," he said again; and then he
child by both hands, the boy from Paris whirled added, So, my children! Here we have the
him about, and danced him around, capering royal family in council--two princes and an
like an imp, and singing the chorus: emperor. Come, tell us your grand plot."
"Zig-zag; rig-a-doon The boy from Paris straightway became so-
So we dance to the drumstick's tune!" ber. "We are playing the fool too much, we


three. Come, Uncle Bibiche, let me see this
"What! you do not believe our little prince
here?" Uncle Bibiche said. "Trifler! Must
we prove him true?"
Then, taking a silver whistle from his pocket,
he blew it loudly. Scarcely had the shrill call
died away when two foresters, in a livery of
green studded with golden bees, came swiftly
beneath the great tree.
"Where are the guard? Uncle Bibiche de-
"Within call, sire," one of the foresters re-
The boy from Paris started at the word, and
looked sharply at the man in the gray overcoat.
"Summon them, you," Uncle Bibiche said,
whereupon one of the foresters darted up the
avenue, and two long whistle-signals rang out
beneath the trees. A moment later, and the
measured rhythm of the double-quick sounded
on the hard road, and down the broad avenue,
with a corporal in the lead, came hurrying a file
of the Grenadiers of the Guard. They stopped
before Uncle Bibiche and presented arms.
The boy from Paris began to feel uncomfort-
able. His mouth slowly opened; he shifted un-
easily from one foot to the other. But he stood
it pluckily, eagerly watchful.
"Corporal," said Uncle Bibiche, sharply, "is
this the way to guard our park? How do sus-
picious characters for example, this one," and
he pointed an accusing finger at the boy from
Paris get within its limits ? "
The corporal of the guard saluted. The
chief forester shall be asked, sire," he said.
"His men are not watchful. Meantime, are
we to take this rascally one, sire ? "
The boy from Paris looked steadfastly on the
man in the gray overcoat. Then came the or-
der, Seize the assassin! and still the boy did
not flinch.
"Assassin, sire? This puny one? Has it
come even to that ? and the corporal's hand
fell heavily upon the boy's shoulder. And still
there came no word in denial or protest.
But protest did come from another quarter.
"Take your hands off my dirty boy," cried
the prince. "He picked me up; he held me
on; he danced me about. I like him."

The Emperor-for such indeed was he whom
the little four-year-old called Uncle Bibiche"
- Napoleon, Emperor of France, whose sum-
mer palace was in this beautiful park of St.
Cloud-the Emperor smiled down upon the
baby prince. "Here is a bold champion," he
said. "Come, let the boy go, Corporal. He
is Prince Napoleon's prisoner, and my word
to you was to try his spirit. But bid the chief
forester be more watchful. Withdraw!" and
he made a movement in dismissal.
The corporal released his prisoner, saluted,
and stepped back.
As he did so the little Prince Napoleon-
the son of the Emperor's brother Louis, King
of Holland, and his wife Hortense, daughter of
the Empress Josephine grasped the arm of
the boy from Paris, stood before the grenadiers,
and raised his hand in salute to the Emperor.
" Long live Grandpapa! he cried. The gren-
adiers presented arms, and, at the word from
their corporal, wheeled about, and marched
"Well, my prince of the sans-culottes, how
now? May I hear of your plot?" the Em-
peror asked.
"Citizen Sire," the boy from Paris replied,
still a trifle perplexed. I could not think you
were the Little Cor-the Emperor. I would
not have danced so-nor so have shaken up
Prince Little One, here."
"'T was a good dance, and a healthy shaking
up. Come-the plot-the plot," the Emperor
said impatiently.
Thereupon in straightforward way the boy
from Paris told his story: How, in Citizen
Popon's wine-shop, whither he had been sent
by Mother Th6rese for the washing of the
Citizeness Popon, he had (while hiding in a
dark corner so that he might spring out upon
young Victor Popon, with whom he was at
feud) overheard a conversation between three
men who sat at table close by, and how these
three conspirators planned to meet that next
night, at the stroke of nine, on the old Tower
wharf, near to where the gate used to stand,
to see the man from England, who had a plan
to kill the Emperor, and fill all their pockets
with gold. And this, the boy said, was all he
had to tell, because, just then, young Victor




Popon came hunting about for him, and he
had dropped quickly to the floor and crawled
noiselessly from his hiding-place, for fear Vic-
tor would come upon him there, and he, then,
would be set upon by the three rascally ones.
And when the next morning came, he had,
because he had thought over the matter all
night, hastened from his home in the Street of
the Washerwomen straight to St. Cloud, to find
the Emperor, and tell him what he had heard;
because he had no wish that the Emperor should
be killed; besides, if they killed the Emperor,
what chance would there be for one to enter
the army, as Jacques and Pierre had done ?
"And so you, too, would go for a soldier, you

boy?" the Emperor demanded, when the boy's
story was told.
"That would I, Citi-Sire," the boy replied.
"My father was a soldier, so Mother Th6rese
says-and says, too, for which I hate her, that
he was an enemy of the people! and fought
for the king, before the Terror."
"An emigre, eh! And what is your name,.
you boy?"
"The boys of our quarter call me 'mud
prince' and 'little 'ristocrat,' sire," the boy from
Paris made answer. But I am Philip, the
son of the emigrd Desnouettes, who came back
to France when I was but a baby, and lost his
head to sharp Madame Guillotine. I live with


Mother Th6rese, and I tire of it all. If I am
mud prince, as they call me, I am to be gold
prince some day, so I tell Babette-if but the
Emperor will."
And who is Babette? "
Oh, Babette is Mother Th6rese's little one,
Sire-the only bright thing in our Street of the
Washerwomen," young Philip replied. "I have
to defend her against that pig of a Pierre over
the way. He is ever teasing her, and I hate boys
who worry those who cannot strike back."
"Aprince and a cham-
pion, eh? exclaimed the
Emperor. "And you
would be a soldier and
fight for your emperor, I '
even as your father i
fought for his king?
Well, perhaps if we could -
but have you washed, we r
might find something
worth the training, un- -
der the dirt. It is on the '. I
old Tower wharf they i-
are to meet the man /'
from England. Was that --'
what you said ? "
"Yes, Sire,-this very
night,-at the stroke of' 1 .77
nine-near to where the : '
old gate used to stand," I '"/
the boy prompted, as -
the Emperor noted the '
time upon the memo- -
randum he had made; -y
while little Prince Na-
poleon, tired of all this -
talk, tugged at the long
gray overcoat, and re-
newed his demand: "A
ride on sheep. Baby
wants to ride again,
Uncle Bibiche."
But the antelopes, de-
spairing of any further "'COME, YOU BOY; YOU ARE
gifts of snuff, had long since trotted off, and
Uncle Bibiche" was occupied with thoughts
of other matters.
His whistle-call sounded again, and once more
the foresters appeared.

Take this boy to Monsieur Corson, clerk of
the kitchen; bid him give the boy a dinner and
a gold napoleon; afterward, see that he is
returned to the city in a cab. And mind, you
boy-not a word of what you have told me to
Mother Th6r&se, nor to Babette."
"Not even to Babette, Sire," the boy re-
For the rest, I will make proof of your
hearing, and, should your ears have done me
service, they shall hear yet better things. Uncle

S -
;'' -- / I |

Ii '. i >. ', I

S -..- .. W -

Bibiche never forgets, does he, Monseigneur
Little One ?"
But the baby prince replied, as the Emperor
caught him up, Uncle Bibiche forgets Baby's


"So! Does he? Then shall he ride picka-
back." And, swinging the child up to the impe-
rial shoulders, the Emperor of France galloped
off up the avenue with the son of the King
of Holland. Then the boy from Paris followed
the foresters to the clerk of the kitchen, and, in
the scullion's quarters, had an excellent dinner,
received a golden napoleon, and rode back like
a prince to the narrow and dirty Street of the
Washerwomen, in the slums of Paris.
Here, however, trouble awaited him. The
cab and the golden napoleon secured for him
momentary glory, though his story that he had
seen and talked with the Little Corporal was
openly scoffed at by all save Babette.
Mother Th6rese confiscated the napoleon,
and regarded the cab as but the ending of only
another of "that boy's scrapes," and prophesied,
as indeed she generally did once a day, that he
would come to no good end, for all her bring-
ing-up. But the boy held stoutly to his promise,
and claimed only to have been to St. Cloud and
to have talked with the Emperor. It must be
admitted that he made the most of this; and,
while his glittering story of princes and palaces
found an absorbed and loyal listener in little
Babette, the boys of the quarter made sport of
it all as "one of the mud prince's fairy tales."
They even went so far as to say that Philip
had snatched the golden napoleon from some
sight-seeing countryman on the Boulevard, and
that the police would be after him for it; while,
as for the cab-ride, they declared that was in
return for some job done for a driver who had
more room in his cab than money in his pocket-
That "pig of a Pierre, over the way," stoutly
asserted, indeed, that the mud prince was "in "
with some of the light-fingered gentry of the
Court of the Miracles near by,-the thieves'
quarter of old Paris,- and would get "come
up with" yet. This was the burden of Pierre's
taunting song all that afternoon. It was renewed
next morning until "the prince" could stand
it no longer, and a battle royal ensued by the
little stone-coped fountain at the head of the
Street of the Washerwomen.
All the street gathered to witness the battle,
and opinion differed as to its possible issue, for
now Pierre and now the prince was down.
But, just as Pierre had been thrown for the

last time, and was about to admit his defeat, two
gendarmes, or armed policemen, thrust their way
through the crowd an'd nabbed the victor.
You boy, you live with Mother Th6rese, do
you not ? one of the policemen inquired.
"To be sure I do," the boy replied, looking
defiantly on his questioner held to be a foe
by every street-boy, as all policemen are.
"You are Philip, son of the emigre Des-
nouettes, bound out to the citizeness Th6rese
Rapin, laundress, of the Street of the Washer-
women ? "
"As all the quarter knows, and you as well,"
Philip admitted without hesitation.
The policeman turned to a grim man in plain
clothes who stood close at hand. This is
our boy, Monsieur the Prefect. I thought I
knew him."
"Bring him along then," the prefect com-
"Come, you boy; you are to go with us."
the policeman said.
"But where-and why?" Philip asked.
That you will know later," answered the of-
ficer. Come." And with his hand on Philip's
shoulder, he led the boy away, following the
prefect and the other gendarme.
Then, while one of the boys, proud to be the
bearer of evil tidings, rushed down the Street
of the Washerwomen to notify Mother Th6rese
of what had happened, and while Babette, see-
ing her only champion dragged away to prison,
lifted up her voice in a long loud wail of fear
and sorrow, the "pig of a Pierre," rising from
the scene of his defeat, danced the mad dance
of joy and triumph, and, shaking his grimy fist
at the retreating Philip, shouted after him:
"Yah, mud prince, pickpocket! Yah, I told
you so!"
And it must be confessed that most of the
quarter saw in this only the sequel to the golden
napoleon and the Emperor's cab" story, and
echoed Pierre's unfriendly "I told you so!"
But Philip, marveling inwardly at his sudden
and unlooked-for taking off, went with his
captors without word or question. "The time
for talk is when the time arrives," he reasoned
And so speechless, he was marched away-
he knew not where nor why.

(To be continued.)


' .4

: S; .

.7 '~~,


art E~


' ..*."

: ,. ..



ip r. p ~~r 13a-u i0 re -cuas a~
~~riLr) Iy

ii (be" Cre -all r
eel-:ow rm

ii~~6 O yAi~ela~ri kn~jhl waad 1e .

ra.lle wall
Ne raoie rjgI) inerrikee.
G~i~o pilla~e anb foul ai ibe icrpcrbb
-000N l001
][ Rihl rnerrit& robe be

40 rric y I

iscitta Ae -wao a otoft frir w.-tib,
~3i-a rilia fiwet ntai tui .4t
r1i5eam sp~ b (K__ iie

,$be rie ~rfbe rqhci a lade
0~o C.rt for The odt a ck 1



w it happen' one ivhpg tu)ben 4te
i Inalif Co1 brijt,
a)'o bril) tiouat moon i.oji bp,
so l)e strrceb-oulA 1)oo1 10 pillep
S r an lool
(Stitlilditly robe 6ir A). fuonp
AU'i all nipot long to t1U njii t-bi', ,
1lfe pilla~p' mcrrile |

iknb wibIi t-e i*un ro.e,ic. to)c.
IV !
l[ ia n ,[latugtre'o riclganU ithre,
At rcu :;wib ome ftoynns of ai(anlt

Rni bi) cauflLs ni. ragon to R e.
An opre or Iwo hbe 1)a a ,cial ; p;
O!a weari'b hInigri u)X' b Y

i[l)ben be bear'o crL y fi-orti a tree \
\)arb by,
ATri'0 qnre0 -iout, tO .ct /'
. Li) rmiling ili1) 1)0lo uvas .iare
fnd ti3n ar most tmuilurnfutlil[
At1 rotn ,stoul ) robent is) bout;-t
\(.'rt pitoul oli robent Ie -f I


. All fEDrl l S ta crieti .
'r it"0 rt rt
I" iim.l fti'il "tvil'i"t bri
rhen if ll) all fl)C,.yrace of [)is
Sl.ourtly rce ,
He belpto Ib)e umaib (to t te i rec -
C (itb blis cap in bniTu ann
rmannPr b[laut
111)e i 0ifomi dy Cib n lPelpe he?.


Ki. 7i

floew it ntilUl eialb i\bat
tiey bib not wet,
for tet cOtini were hbcre, you
RnU) be like to lo o toil)e rreccb-
-ocu l boot
iIuch more tl)an to imrricb be.
So b1 robe aop~ i it the conit i bay -
(0 nerrilee' off rotbc t. I-

~P-- a ------------ ____





WASHINGTON IRVING and Fenimore Cooper
were New-Yorkers both by descent and by
residence, but William Cullen Bryant, who lived
at the same time, though a New-Yorker by
residence, was of the purest New England
descent. Like Benjamin Franklin, the fore-
runner of Irving and Cooper, Bryant left the
town of his birth to become the foremost citi-
zen of a great city. He was born in the vil-
lage of Cummington, in western Massachusetts,
November 3, 1794, just a hundred years ago.
He was eleven years younger than Irving and
five years younger than Cooper. He survived
Irving nearly twenty years, and died in New
York in 1878. When he first saw the light, the
United States were only fifteen in number, and
Washington, the first President, was still at the
head of the little nation. He lived to see the
celebration of the hundred years of our inde-
pendence, and the admission of Colorado, the
thirty-eighth State.
That he should have lived to the age of
eighty-three is the more remarkable, as he had
a feeble frame and no great stock of strength.
As a little child he was "puny and very deli-
cate in body, and of a delicate, nervous organi-
zation." From the beginning he was forced to
save himself in every way, and to order his life
regularly, denying himself many things which
others used freely. To the last year of his life
he was regular in his habits, rising betimes, eat-
ing little, exercising much, and going to bed
early. From his earliest youth he had himself
under almost perfect control. In his life, as in
his poetry, he was always dignified.
His father was a country doctor, and also
represented his native town in the Massachu-
setts legislature, His mother was descended
from John Alden and his wife Priscilla, whose
courtship has been told in verse by Longfel-
low, another of their descendants. Bryant was
ready for college unusually young, learning

Latin from Virgil's "AEneid" and Greek from
the Greek Testament. He began to make verses
very early, and when scarce ten years old, so
one of his biographers tells us, he received a
ninepenny coin from his grandfather for a
rhymed version of the first chapter of the book
of Job." Even when he was but a little boy
he wished to be a poet. He knew by heart the
rude verses of Watts's hymns, and the neat
couplets of Pope. It was from Pope that he
learned the art of verse; and at the beginning
of our century Pope was no bad teacher, for he
was an artist in rhyme and rhythm.
In the fall of 18o1, Bryant, then not quite
sixteen, entered the sophomore class at Wil-
liams College. At the end of the collegiate
year, he asked and received an honorable dis-
missal from Williams, intending to enter the
Junior class at Yale. But his father could not
afford to support him at New Haven, and to
his lasting regret the poet was deprived of the
profit of a full college course. He spent the
summer at home, working on the farm, and
reading diligently all the books of his father's
library, medical and poetical. A few days be-
fore January i, 1812, he began the study of
law; and to law his attention was given for
more than ten years. He did not like the law,
and he gave it up at the first opportunity; but
while it was his calling he did his work loyally
and thoroughly.
The NVorth American Review was founded in
1815 by a little group of Bostonians, of whom
Richard Henry Dana was one; it was a rather
solemn magazine, like the British reviews of the
time. To this review certain of Bryant's poems
were sent; and when one of these was read
aloud at a meeting of the editors, Dana smiled
and said, You have been imposed upon. No
one on this side of the Atlantic is capable of
writing such verse." When they had assured
themselves that they had not been imposed


upon, the editors published two of the poems
in the North American Review for September,
1817. One was called "Thanatopsis," and it
had been composed six years before, when the
poet was not yet eighteen. It was, as a critic
has well said, "not only the finest poem which

Bryant's father died in 1820, and a year later
the poet, being then twenty-six years of age,
married Miss Fairchild. In 1822 Bryant was
asked to deliver the "Phi Beta Kappa" poem
at Harvard, and he wrote "The Ages," which
pleased its hearers so much that the poet



had been produced on this continent, but one
of the most remarkable poems ever produced
at such an early age." In the same number of
the Review appeared also Bryant's verses now
known as "An Inscription for the Entrance to
a Wood." In 1818 the Review published his
"Lines to a Waterfowl." Thereafter there was
no doubt that the English language had gained
a new poet.

yielded to their requests, and gathered his scat-
tered verses into a volume-a thin little book,
but containing poems destined to a long life in
This earlier poetry of Bryant's has for us a
double interest, for besides its own merit, which
is great, it strongly influenced several other
American poets by opening their eyes to the
life about them. In this last quarter of the



nineteenth century it is very hard for us to un-
derstand how completely American authors de-
pended upon Great Britain in the first quarter
of the century. Not only was everything judged
by British standards everything was seen
through British spectacles. Bryant was the
first American who discovered that the flowers
and the birds of New England were not those
of old England. He took this discovery to
heart, and acted upon it always; and every
later American poet has followed his example.
After Bryant's first volume of poems appeared,
the nightingale became as absent from Amer-
ican verse as it had always been absent from
American woods. "Thanatopsis" is full of a
spirit of loving tenderness toward nature. "The
Yellow Violet," written in 1814, is probably
the first poem devoted to an actual American
flower; and it reveals anew the poet's ability to
see for himself what no eye had noted before.
In 1825 Bryant gave up the law finally,
resolved to earn his living by his pen. He re-
moved to New York, where he was to reside
for the next fifty years. He was appointed
editor of the New York Review, to which he
contributed many poems, among them that
beginning with the well-known line:
The melancholy days have come, the saddest of the year.

One of the poems by other authors which he
published in the pages of the New York Review
was the Marco Bozzaris" of Fitz-Greene Hal-
leck. But the Review did not prosper. Before
it ceased Bryant became an editorial writer on
the Evening Post. In 1829 the editor-in-chief
died, and Bryant was promoted to his place.
He already owned one eighth of the paper, and
he was now enabled to increase his holding to
one half. This share he retained to his death,
and it became increasingly profitable as the
years went by. For the last half of his long
life Bryant had an assured income from prop-
erty in his own control.. He had to work hard,
but he was his own master.
Bryant gave up law for journalism at a time
when there was still an old-fashioned primness
among literary people and their work: it was a
time when authors were called the "literati,"
when writing verses was termed "toying with
the Muses," and when many other affected

phrases of this sort were common enough in
print. 'But it was also a time when American
authors were beginning to write notable prose
and verse which is still read with pleasure.
Washington Irving's Knickerbocker's History
of New York" had appeared in 1809, and his
"Sketch Book" was completed in 1820. In
1821 Fenimore Cooper published the "Spy,"
the first American historical novel, following it
two years later with the Pioneers," the first of
the "Leatherstocking Tales."
There was, at that time, a pleasanter and more
artistic atmosphere in New York, where these
authors resided, than in any other American
city. New York, already marked as the com-
mercial metropolis of the country, was also
the literary center of the Union when Bryant
moved to it. And by the authors and artists
of New York Bryant was eagerly welcomed.
Although American literature had thus begun,
it was still in its infancy. The reading public
was very small, and the magazines were few
and struggling. One could hardly earn a liv-
ing as a man of letters; to support a family by
writing poems was quite impossible. There is
no doubt therefore that Bryant did well in rely-
ing upon journalism for his means of livelihood.
In journalism, as in authorship, character
tells for as much as ability; and upon the
newspaper he conducted Bryant imposed his
own lofty ideals.
In his editorial writings, as. in his poetry,
the tone is always full of dignity. Calm in his
strength, he was both temperate in expressing
his opinions and good-tempered. He fought
fairly and he respected his adversary. He was
never a snarling critic either of men or of
measures. He elevated the level of the Amer-
ican newspaper, but it was by his practice, not
by preaching. He was choice in his own use
of words, and there was in the office of the
Evening Post a list of words and phrases not
allowed in its pages.
The editorial articles which Bryant wrote for
his paper day by day for more than fifty years
have never been collected, and probably they
never will be, though they are a history of
the United States for almost half a century.
The letters written to the Evening Post, when
he was on his travels, have most of them been



reprinted. He made a tour on the prairies in
1832, and in 1834 he went to Europe to stay a
year and a half, spending his time in France,
Italy, and Germany. In 1845 he crossed the
ocean a second time, and paid his first visit to
England. In later years he went to Europe
four times more, once journeying to Egypt and
the Holy Land. He also visited Cuba and
Mexico. In 185o he gathered the best of the
letters he had sent to the Evening Post from
abroad and published them in a volume, as the
" Letters of a Traveler"; and in 1869 he made
a second collection called "Letters from the
East." The interest of these two books is due
rather to their author than to their own merits,
although these are not slight; anything Bryant
wrote had a value of its own; but he lacked
the ease, the lightness, the familiarity which are
to be found in the letters of the ideal traveler.
He was a poet; and his best work was in verse,
not in prose.
Bryant was also a notable public speaker.
Upon a score of solemn occasions the poet was
the orator of the day; and these addresses are
preserved in a volume of the collected edition
of his works. At the death of Cooper, Bryant
was invited to deliver a memorial oration, which
long remained the fullest biography and the
fairest criticism of the creator of Leatherstock-
ing." At the death of Irving, and of Halleck,
Bryant was again called upon, and he again re-
sponded with addresses worthy not only of the
subjects but of himself also. More than once
he was the speaker on great civic occasions
when the citizens of New York needed a
mouthpiece. His addresses were always writ-
ten out carefully; they were always stately and
impressive, yet were never stiff or labored.
The fame of the orator and of the traveler
and of the journalist perishes swiftly, but that
of the poet endures. Bryant did not allow his
duty to his newspaper wholly to absorb his
time. To poetry he was devoted his whole
life long, although the body of his verse is not
great. In 1831 he published a volume of his
poetry containing four score more poems than
had appeared in the collection of ten years be-
fore. About thirty years later, in 1863, Bryant
published what may be called the second vol-
ume of his poetry, to which he gave the sim-

ple title of "Thirty Poems." His later verses
were added in successive editions of his com-
plete poems.
In the course of his travels and of his studies
he had made himself familiar with French and
German, Spanish and Italian, while he had
deepened his knowledge of Greek and Latin.
He was fond of translating from the modern
poets of other lands, and in this delicate art he
was fairly successful, although he lacked the
sure touch of Longfellow. In the fall of 1863
he translated the fifth book of the Odyssey."
Encouraged by the way in which it was re-
ceived, he turned to the "Iliad" and began to
translate passages of that. In the summer of
1866 his wife died, and the poet felt her loss
keenly; it unfitted him for severe work, and yet
made it advisable that he should keep occu-
pied. He again turned to Homer, and in 1870
he published his complete translation of the
" Iliad," following it two years later with a ver-
sion of the Odyssey." Indeed, Bryant's has
generally been accepted as the best of the many
recent translations of Homer.
Bryant had long passed three score years
and ten when he finished his task of turning
the great Greek poem into English verse. He
was hale in his old age, exercising regularly,
eating sparingly, taking care of himself, and re-
taining full possession of his powers. In his
eighty-fourth year he delivered an address in
Central Park at the unveiling of the bust of
Mazzini, the Italian patriot. The day was hot,
and he spoke with slight shelter from the sun.
After the ceremony he walked across the Park
to a friend's house, but, as he mounted the
steps, he fell back suddenly. He was taken
to his own home, where he lingered for a fort-
night, dying June 12, 1878.
Bryant's place in the history of American
literature is easy to declare: He was a pioneer
and leader. He was the earliest poet of nature
as it is here in the United States, seeing it
freshly for himself, and not repeating at second
hand what British poets had been saying about
nature as it is in the British Isles. The love he
bore to nature, like the love he had for his coun-
try, was almost a passion. His verse is stately
and reserved. There is a lack of lightness in
Bryant's poetry-perhaps even a lack of ease.


Yet there is a lyric swing to the ".Song of Ma-
rion's Men" and a singing quality in "The
Planting of the Apple-Tree."
He had a grand simplicity of style, and there
is a stern and determined vigor in certain of
his stanzas. Take the famous quatrain from
"The Battle-Field," for example-
Truth crushed to earth shall rise again-
The eternal years of God are hers:
But Error, wounded, writhes in pain
And dies among his worshipers.
He lived a noble life, and he remains an
example to all men of letters. He did nothing
base or mean in literature or in life, nothing


small, nothing unworthy of a poet. His hatred
of shams and gauds kept his verse simple and
clear-undefiled by jingling conceits or petty
prettinesses; it is sustained nearly always at the
same high level. And his poetry attained as
lofty an elevation in his youth as in his age.
" Thanatopsis" was written when he was young,
and the Flood of Years" when he was old;
and the thought is as deep in the first poem
as in the second, and the expression is as free
and as noble. It is said that an old young
man makes a young old man. It was true of
Bryant as a poet: he was mature very early in
life and he kept his youth to the end.

-L \\n

i -



My watch little watcher, good night!
You 're as true as steel and as good as gold,
And changeless alike in darkness or light;
So, wake, while the night grows gray and old.

My watch little watcher, good morning!
Yours are the hands that never will shirk;
Three jewels there are your soul adorning--
I call them Constancy, Patience, and Work.

My watch-little watcher, good night!
'T is a comfort to have you so very near;
For you seem to say, All 's right, all 's right! "
As the beat of your faithful heart I hear.

My watch-little watcher, good morning!
You're telling me now, "'T is a precious day!"
If ever a spendthrift I grow, give me warning:
The hours are slipping too quickly away.

I, I '

. -at


i ,i

-- -

I.. .-




WHEN I 'm as big as Papa, the thing that puzzles me
Is what I '11 do to make my bread, and just what I shall be.
I used to think conducting on a horse-car was the thing,
With naught to do but take up fares and pull the ting-a-ling.

But Papa says they cannot keep the money that they make.
They have to give to some one else each nickel that they take;
And where there 's profit in that work is more than I can tell,
Unless it 's in the fun one gets in playing with the bell.

And then I thought policeman's work was just the thing for me.
I 'm fond of hitting things with clubs and leaning againstt a tree;
But I am told that if one 's caught asleep he has to go -
Though how a man can live without his sleep I do not know;

And as I 'm very fond of rest I '11 never join the force.
A sailor I could never be, because, you see, of course
I 'd have to be away from home so much upon the sea,
I 'd hardly ever have a chance to meet my family.

I could n't quite get used to that, for really half the fun
A man gets out of life is got from playing with his son
At night when supper 's over,- so my father 's often said,-
Before the Sandman comes around and sends me off to bed.

However, with this subject I '11 no longer vex my mind,
Until I get through boying; and, perhaps, I then shall find
Somebody who will pay me well to do just what I please,
So that my little boy and I may live a life of ease.

-:; ir



..I -


THERE 'S a snug little house that I know
very well
(Though just where it is I would rather not
And in it live Papa and Mama and Paul
And Dollie and Sue- and the Mouse in the

The Mouse in the Wall comes out in the night
Just to get the fresh air, and perhaps a cold
bite ;
But evenings and daytimes he stays in, as
As a very small bug in a very big rug.
And whatever happens he knows it, that 's all!
He has very sharp ears-has the Mouse in
the Wall.

Why, one time when Paul and Dollie and Sue
Had a bit of a tiff, as the best of us do,

He sat up and squeaked -oh, so loud and
so clear,
And with such a good will, that they all
stopped to hear,
Till they really forgot why they quarreled
at all.
"I settled that fuss," said the Mouse in the

But when, in the evening, they all gather
The table where books, games, and laugh-
ter abound,
And each is intent to please some other
And all the house echoes and rings with the
Of Papa and Mama, Sue, Dollie, and Paul,
"Now that's to my mind!" says the Mouse
in the Wall.

Minnie L. Upton.

, he candy-man ,'who was in the sun ,
And who never could walk,began to run,
11il you couldht have told, so fast he ran,
That he ever.had been a candy-man .




THERE 'S a snug little house that I know
very well
(Though just where it is I would rather not
And in it live Papa and Mama and Paul
And Dollie and Sue- and the Mouse in the

The Mouse in the Wall comes out in the night
Just to get the fresh air, and perhaps a cold
bite ;
But evenings and daytimes he stays in, as
As a very small bug in a very big rug.
And whatever happens he knows it, that 's all!
He has very sharp ears-has the Mouse in
the Wall.

Why, one time when Paul and Dollie and Sue
Had a bit of a tiff, as the best of us do,

He sat up and squeaked -oh, so loud and
so clear,
And with such a good will, that they all
stopped to hear,
Till they really forgot why they quarreled
at all.
"I settled that fuss," said the Mouse in the

But when, in the evening, they all gather
The table where books, games, and laugh-
ter abound,
And each is intent to please some other
And all the house echoes and rings with the
Of Papa and Mama, Sue, Dollie, and Paul,
"Now that's to my mind!" says the Mouse
in the Wall.

Minnie L. Upton.

, he candy-man ,'who was in the sun ,
And who never could walk,began to run,
11il you couldht have told, so fast he ran,
That he ever.had been a candy-man .





THE foot-ball elections at the Overton school
were held the second day of the fall term. For
the position of captain, which usually fell to the
best player of the senior class, and was always
regarded as a high honor, there were this year
two candidates-Roy Williams, a popular fel-
low who had never distinguished himself on the
field, and Walter Edner, who was well known
as a brilliant player. There was no little as-
tonishment among the lower-class boys when
the seniors announced that Williams had been
chosen captain.
"I'm awfully sorry, Walt," said Edner's little
brother Harry, as the boys sat together in their
room some hours later. "Williams can't hold
a candle to you, and they all know it. How
did it happen?"
"I don't know anything about it," answered
Walter, gloomily. I suppose I 'm not popu-
lar, that's all."
"I heard some fellows say you were too lazy,
and thought too much of yourself to make a
good captain," pursued Harry with thoughtless
"Who were they?"
"Oh, some of my class; they just said what
they heard other fellows say. I think it's mean;
you just about won the game for 'em "last
There was silence for a moment; then the
elder boy said savagely, "Well, we will see
what they '11 do this year without me."
"Why? Don't you mean to play ?"
"No, I don't," answered Walter. I ought
to have had that office; and if I 'm not good
enough for it, I 'm not good enough to play,
that's all."
Edner was a born athlete.. Well developed
limbs, a quick eye, a hand skilful and swift
to move, a mind cool, keen, and resolute-all
this and more had nature given him; and yet
one thing he lacked-a willing and earnest dis-

position. He could play like a hero when he
would; when things went wrong he was apt to
sulk and shirk-a regular school-boy Achilles.
For this reason his classmates, though ad-
miring his natural powers, dared not intrust
to him the all-important leadership.
It was a bitter grievance to Edner, and his
first angry impulse was to avenge it by refusing
to play on the team; but he shrank from pur-
suing a course which could only result in mak-
ing him more unpopular and more unhappy
still. So he took his place with the rest, and
practised as usual.
A month passed by. The novelty of the
new term had worn off, and the boys were
already looking forward to the match with the
rival school over the hills, and speculating upon
their chance of victory.
"I 'm mightily discouraged," said Captain
Williams, talking the situation over with Tom
Walden, his right-hand man. Edner is at the
the bottom of everything. He does n't half
play, and he does n't care whether he does or
not; and the other fellows imitate him."
"Why don't you talk to him ? asked Tom.
"I don't like to say much, he 's such a
touchy fellow; and you know he felt rather
sore about that election."
"Well, you '11 have to do something pretty
soon," returned Walden. We shall stand no
chance at all with the Fawcett team next month
if this thing goes on. It is much better for him
not to play at all than to shirk all the time."
So Williams tried to "talk to" Edner, and
persuade him to greater efforts. But Edner
answered sullenly that he was doing the best
he knew how,-he could n't do any more,-
and so affairs dragged on for another week,
when the crisis came.
It was a sunny day in early October. The
eleven had had a hard, discouraging game the
day before with a college team, and were feel-


ing sore and dispirited. The playing was weak
and careless, Edner being particularly sluggish.
" Come, Walt! sang out Williams, I don't
want to see you tackle like that again. You
can get your man low if you want to. Brace
up and try "
"I 'm doing as well as I can," growled
Edner, who really was lame and stiff from his
exertions the day before.
"I don't believe it," was the answer. "You
never used to tackle above the waist, and now
here 's 'most every man slipping through your
The next moment an opponent with the ball
in his arms broke through the line, and came
down upon Edner as he stood in his half-back's
position behind the line. "Take him low, Ed-
ner, low," cried Williams, as the runner neared
him and turned aside to dodge. The half-back
plunged, and, throwing out his arms, grasped
feebly at the jacket of his opponent, who
brushed him off and passed on to make a
touch-down. Edner turned and faced the re-
proaches of his angry captain.
"See here, Edner, this thing has gone far
enough. I won't have any more of such shirk-
ing baby-work! You are doing us a thousand
times more harm than good! Unless you mean
to exert yourself, I don't want you here; and
you might as well make up your mind about
it now as any time."
"Just as you say," retorted Edner. I'm
not so anxious about playing." And he picked
up his sweater and left the field. Next day the
eleven practised without him.
The breach thus made grew wider every day.
Edner would not return to the field except at
Williams's request; Williams vowed he would n't
go down on his knees to Edner if he did n't
have a player on the team. The school took
up the discussion and sided, some with Edner,
and some with the captain. Meantime the
eleven, crippled by the loss of its best player,
and torn by dissensions, was going backward,
and fast losing its own confidence and the
confidence of the school.
During all this commotion Edner's heart was
full of spite and bitterness. At bottom he knew
that he was more or less in the wrong; and yet
his sense of injury was strong, and the more he

indulged it the more his obstinacy increased.
As the days slipped by, he gradually settled
down into an unhappy state of unconcern about
the whole matter. It was nothing to him
whether the game was won or lost. The re-
sponsibility was off his shoulders-by good
luck-why distress himself over the unpleas-
ant subject? "
"Say, Walt! cried Harry, running in one
morning with a letter. Sister Alice is coming
here this afternoon; going to stop over a train
to see us. Is n't that jolly! Too bad though,
she could n't have come two weeks later, so as
to see the game! "
"It 's just as well," answered Walter. We
are n't going to win, so she would gain nothing
by waiting."
Walter welcomed his elder sister warmly that
afternoon. He was very fond of her, and had
always from childish days looked up to her for
advice and help. Three tongues moved fast as
they chattered of home and friends and per-
sonal matters, both boys plying their sister with
questions with all the hunger for news which
marks the genuine home-loving school-boy.
"And now, boys," Alice said after a time,
"how goes the game this year ? It seems to me
that I have heard very little, considering the
lateness of the season, of that all-important
match with Fawcett. Last year you talked of
nothing else for a month before the time."
Walter relapsed into silence, and Harry sim-
ply remarked:
"We 're going to get beaten, I 'm afraid.
Walt is n't playing this year."
Is n't playing! repeated Alice, in astonish-
ment. "Why, I thought he was the best half
in the school."
So he is," continued Harry, "but he stopped
practising two weeks ago. They elected an-
other man captain, and he did n't treat Walter
right at all."
How was that, Walter ?" asked Alice, turn-
ing to him.
"Oh, we had a falling out, that 's all," said
he, with an air of unconcern, and I stopped
playing. He won't ask me to come back,
and I don't intend to go unless he does."
And so you are going to let your school be
beaten ? "


"I don't care if it is," answered Walter, his
old spirit coming back to him with the renewal
of the question. I 'm not going out there to
be ordered about and bullied and insulted by
any one."
"Well, let 's not talk about it, then," said
Alice, gently. Of course you must be your
own judge as to what is honorable and what
is not. Only don't forget your obligation to
your classmates, nor allow yourself to be drawn
into an action of which you may be ashamed
by and by. I always want my brother Walter
to be on the generous side; whatever the provo-
cation, he can't afford to be mean, you know."
There was no reply to this, and, the con-
versation changing, their thoughts were soon a
thousand miles away, hurrying on from point to
point to make the most of the fleeting moments.
But later in the day, when Alice had gone on
her journey, her words came back to Walter's
mind, and revived in him the old discussion.
Did they apply to his case? Was he doing
anything unmanly, anything he could ever be
ashamed of ? Was n't he just standing up for
his rights? And then, as he thought of the
eleven struggling along to beat Fawcett, weak-
ened by his withdrawal and by the dissensions
kept up on his behalf, his resentment softened,
and he longed for some way of helping his
school to victory. On one side were duty and
patriotism and generosity; on the other, a sense
of injury and personal pride. So he fought
within himself, and the battle was not easy.
Late that evening Williams was surprised by
a knock at his door. It was Edner, who had
just reached a decision.
"I 've come to talk to you about foot-ball,"
said he, hesitatingly. "I 've been thinking the
matter over to-day pretty hard, and I 've made
up my mind I will be on the generous side. I
am ready to come out again, and try hard, too,
if you want me to."
"Want you to I" cried Williams, grasping his
hand with fervor. I should think we did.
You may do anything you want to, if you '11
only play as you used to. I had about decided
to go for you myself, to-morrow."
"All I want is to win the game," said
Walter; and they sat down and talked for an
hour over plans for the game and the changes

that could be brought about in the next two
weeks. Both went to sleep -that night with
lighter hearts.
Refreshed by his rest and filled with a new
zeal, Edner returned to the field to play better
than ever before. But it soon became apparent
that there had been a decided retrogression
during his absence. The whole team was per-
vaded by a general laxity and spirit of indiffer-
ence, against which both the captain's words
and Edner's example were alike unavailing.
"Edner," said Williams, as they came home
from the field a few nights later, "if only that
fuss had n't happened! If it had n't been for
that row we might be playing a winning game."
"It 's bad, I admit," returned Walter, but
we may win yet."
"Not as we 're going on now," answered
the discouraged boy; "and we are n't likely
to improve at this late day. Did you ever
see such a dumb team? They have n't a
spark of life in them. I 'm afraid it was a
fatal thing--that trouble of ours!"
Well, I don't think it was all my fault," said
Edner moodily.
"Well, no, perhaps not," Williams replied, in
a tone which seemed to dissent with the words,
"but some of the fellows will think it was."
Their roads parted, and each went his way.
"Yes, that 's a fact," thought Walter, bitterly;
" that's exactly what they '11 say. It 's because
I gave in, and came out again to play, practi-
cally acknowledging I was in the wrong by
asking him to take me back; and it won't
make any difference how well I play myself,
they '11 lay it all to me if they get beaten."
Like every long-awaited day, the day of the
Fawcett game came at last. The struggle was
to be on the home grounds. The rival school
came in force to view the contest, and lend the
aid of noise and sympathy to their champions.
It was a dispirited team that Williams led forth
that afternoon. They had worked themselves
into a state of dogged determination; but it
was rather the determination to die hard, than
that hopeful kind of courage that leads on to
victory. To Walter, though he had a genuine
love for the game, and was never so happy as
when deep in its excitement, the day promised
little pleasure. If defeated he must bear the


7140 GEARY

burden of the humiliation; if victorious the
laurels would go to the captain. It was hardly
worth while to do his best.
A few moments, and all was changed. Once
the men were lined out, once the ball in play,

the ball to the home eleven. Then Overton in
turn tried to advance the ball, and the nervous
back stumbled and fell, losing the ball again
to the other side. Then cheer on cheer came
from the hostile camp, returned by the strong



and the half begun-and everything but the
game and his responsibility as right half-back
was forgotten. The Fawcetts formed a wedge,
and tried to force their way down the field; but
their excitement was too great, and they lost

lungs of the Overton supporters, and both
elevens grew steadier, and played more care-
fully. Despite their discouragement, the Over-
tons seemed well able to hold their own.
Williams, on the end of the line, was having



more than he could do to handle his opponent;
and Edner's companion half-back showed
signs of unsteadiness; but the general situation
seemed to the sanguine Overtonians not with-
out hope.
Some minutes passed. Fawcett was now
slowly working down toward the Overton goal.
Greater and greater grew the excitement among
players and spectators alike, as the goal was
neared. The Overton rush-line was struggling
desperately to stop the plunges through the
center; Williams, wildly gesticulating and

saw the skilful tackle. But Edner had suc-
ceeded only in deferring for a time the inevi-
table touch-down! A few more rushes and the
ball was over the line, and Fawcett had begun
to score. They failed to make a goal, but four
points were undeniably theirs!
Play began again--Fawcett bold, Overton
dispirited. Soon the Fawcetts began in their
steady, plodding way to work down the field.
A few yards at a time is all they gain, but a
second time they approach the Overton goal.
Five minutes more! cries the referee.



shouting to his men to make a stand, seemed
at times to have become thoroughly "rattled."
Perhaps the Fawcett captain thought he was;
for he made a feint to the right, then sent the
half-back, with two to interfere for him, straight
at the unlucky Williams, who, blocked off by
his opponent, made an unavailing dash for the
runner, and fell sprawling. The trio passed on
to the half-back, who, almost at the line, tackled
the man with the ball, stopped him and carried
him to the ground. "Edner! Edner!" burst
forth from the exultant Overtonians, as they

Breathless they struggle on either side. Thirty
yards, twenty-five, twenty only are left.
"Look out for a goal from the field," shouts
Walden, whose quick eye catches the signs of
preparation. Almost as he speaks the ball rises
from behind the Fawcett line, and sails through
the air toward the goal-posts; a whiff of wind
catches it and, turning it from its course, drops it
lightly on the top of the post, whence it bounces
to the cross-bar, then straight into the arms of
Edner, who starts up the field but is soon



"A goal!" cries the Fawcett captain; "a
goal! a goal! resounds all about the Fawcett
side of the field. But it was not so. Edner had
caught the ball a good two feet inside the field.

The first half is over, and the players are on
their way to their quarters for the intermission.
A narrow squeeze that," said Williams, wip-
ing the perspiration from his face. Did you
ever see anything like it!. If I were n't so
played out, I 'd feel encouraged."
Pure luck said Walden, nothing but
luck! But we can't have much more of it.
What are we going to do the next half?"

"We may hold them this time," answered
Walden shook his head. It does n't look
much like it; it 's our team that 's tired. What
do you say, Edner ? "
We 've got to try something different if
we 're going to score," Walter answered. I
say, go round the ends; the Fawcett ends are
"No, they 're not, I can tell you," retorted
Williams, who did not fancy the imputation
that his opponent was a weakling. What-
ever we do, we can't make any end-play a suc-
cess, and there 's no use talking about it."
Edner said no more, and they were soon
called to the field to begin the battle anew.
This time there was less uncertainty and ner-
vousness on both sides. Each team knew what
it had to expect from its opponent, and felt only
an intense eagerness to win.
For a time it was the same old story. Faw-
cett, playing a slow, steady game, would creep
gradually up toward the Overton goal; then
Overton, rallying for a few minutes of spirited
and united effort, would raise the hopes of its
supporters by a vigorous rally, only to lose by
some careless work, and fall back once more.
So back and forth went the ball, and the min-
utes dragged along.
The spectators were losing patience. Why
don't they brace up and do something?"
the murmurs ran along the line of Overton
supporters, who were now too hoarse and ex-
cited to cheer. "Are we going to lose by those
beggarly four points ? "
The end of the game drew near. A run, a
scrimmage, a confused pile of arms and legs
and bodies, and Williams was seen limping
across the field, rubbing an injured shoulder.
A substitute took his place, and Edner took
charge of the team.
It was a change, and the spectators crowded
excitedly to the ropes with a presentiment that
something was to happen.
The new captain, calling the players aside for
a minute's consultation, sent them again to
their work. Bang! went a half-back against the
center; bang! went another against the tackle;
and then, with the old signal and a simultane-
ous start, Edner and the interferers were sud-


denly off for a run around the end. Never did
a sprinter dash more sharply into his full speed!
Now dodging an opposing tackle, now squirm-
ing from an opponent's grasp, now warding off
the encircling arms, now, with head down and
ball held firmly, he threaded his way unchecked
among the foe. At last, with ten behind him,
but one more remained between him and the
Fawcett. goal the full-back, crouched for a
spring. He could not dodge, he could not
force him back. With a final effort, he leaped
straight forward over the waiting player's head,
and, scrambling between the goul-posts, lay
panting upon the ball. It was a moment be-
fore the onlookers realized what had been
done; and then with a yell, more vigorous and
discordant than the old field had ever heard
before, the tumultuous mob rushed upon the
field and raised Walter upon their shoulders.
The- shouts of triumph echoed and reechoed
until the goal had been kicked, and the players
were once more in the center of the field.
Six to four the score was now, and so it
remained until the end, when the frantic Over-

tonians again burst into the field, swarming
around their heroes; and among the throng
that gathered around the victorious team was
Williams glad that the school had won the
match, but feeling rather out in the cold. But
as he went forward through the crowd, sud-
denly he heard Edner's voice above all the
wild shouts:
"Three cheers for Captain Williams,-now,
Then, as the cheering redoubled, the cap-
tain, too, was hoisted aloft, and he and Walter
exchanged a hearty handshake in the air.
The letter that Walter Edner wrote to Alice
that evening I cannot reproduce; it would
be too full of technical terms and incoherent
words to represent its author fairly. A rough
quotation, however, I may be allowed to make:
And so, my dear sister, it did turn out
most gloriously, though I was afraid you had
got me into a scrape with your talk about the
generous side; and you can just believe that
I would n't swap my present position in school
for the greatest foot-ball captaincy in America! "



SOME of the finest dogs in the world are
owned by Victoria, Queen of England. Her
Majesty is particularly fond of animals, and she
loves every species of dog, from the largest St.
Bernard to the tiny King Charles spaniel,which
can be put into a coat pocket. There is a
man at Windsor Castle who does nothing else
but take care of the dogs, and the royal ken-
nels there are of stone, and the yards are paved
with red and blue tiles, and the compartments
in which the little dogs sleep are warmed with
hot water, and they have the freshest and clean-
est of straw in which to lie. There are fifty-
five dogs in these kennels, and almost all of
them are acquainted with the Queen. She visits
them often while she is at the castle, and she
looks carefully after their health and comforts.

The dogs of Windsor Castle keep regular hours.
They are turned out at a certain time each day
for their exercise and sports, and they have a
number of courts connected with the kennels
upon which they scamper to and fro over green
lawns. There are umbrella-like affairs on these
lawns, where they can lie in the shade if they
wish to, and in some of them there are pools
of water where the dogs can take a bath, and
in which they swim and come out and shake
themselves just as though they were ordinary
yellow dogs rather than royal puppies.
The Queen has her favorites among the dogs,
and some of them become jealous of the atten-
tions she pays to others. Among those she likes
best is one named Marco." This is said to
be the finest Spitz dog in England. It has taken




4 3.
..i~T ..


I ,I
~' ''


a number of prizes. Marco is an auburn dog.
His hair is of tawny red. He weighs just about
twelve pounds, and he has brighter eyes, quicker
motions, and a sharper bark than any other dog
in the kennel. He is just three years old, and
he carries his tail over his back as though he
owned the whole establishment.
The Queen's collies are very fine, and a
number of them are white. One of these is
called "Snowball," and another goes by the
name of Lily."
Another little dog, an especial favorite with
the Queen, weighs just seven and one half
pounds, or no more than the smallest baby.
This is the Queen's toy Pomeranian "Gina,"

who is one of the most famous dogs of the world.
Gina came from Italy, and has won a number
of prizes at the dog-shows of England. Gina is
a very good dog, and sat as quiet as a mouse
while her photograph was taken not long ago.
Among the other dogs of the kennel are a
number of pugs, and one knock-kneed little Jap-
anese pug which the late Lady Brassey, the
distinguished traveler, presented to the Queen.
There are big German dachshunds and little
Skye terriers, and, in short, every kind of beauti-
ful dog you can imagine in these famous ken-
nels. The Queen names all the dogs herself;
and near the kennels is a little graveyard where
these pets are buried when they die.



[ Began in the ApAril number.]
BULLOCK'S LANDING, the settlement of which
Jack had spoken, was a little cluster of poor
frame-houses on the other side of the wide
river, from the Roost. Jack's first plan was to
cross the river to Bullock's. From there he
thought he might be able to work a passage
down to Norfolk, and thence, perhaps, to Eng-
land. He remembered now that a sloop had
been lying there for two days. If it had not
left, maybe he could get them to take him as
far as Norfolk.
He rowed steadily away into the river, and
in a little while the shore he had left behind
him disappeared into the darkness of night. All
around him was the lapping, plashing water of
the river. He guided his course by the stars,
never ceasing his strokes. His mind drifted
aimlessly as he rowed, touching a dozen differ-

ent points of thought that had nothing to do
with his present hard fortune. Every now and
then he stopped to rest himself for a little while.
The breathless silence brooded over him, bro-
ken only by the ceaseless rippling and gurgle
and plash of the water all around him, and of
the drip from the wet oar-blades into the stream
beneath. Then he dipped the oars and drew
the boat around until he brought the north star
and Charles's Wain, or the Dipper, over the
It was perhaps an hour or more before Jack
came to the further shore of the river. At the
point which he reached, the black pine-forest
came down close to the water's edge. Here
he unshipped his oars, and then stood up in
the boat, looking first up the stream and then
down, then up again. He thought he saw a
dim outline that looked like a group of houses
and a sloop, far away up the stream. He sat
down, replaced the oars, and began rowing up
the shore. It was the sloop he had seen.


Gradually it came out more and more defined
from the obscurity. Then he could see the
outline of the long, narrow landing. There
were signs of life about the sloop and upon
the shore. The door of one of the houses
stood open, and there was a light within. By
and by he could hear the noise of laughing
and singing, and boisterous voices. He rowed
up under the wharf and lashed the boat to one
of the piles. Three or four men came over
from the sloop across the wharf, one of them
carrying a lantern. They stood looking down
at him. After he had made the boat fast he
climbed up to the wharf. The man with the
lantern thrust it close to his face, and almost
instantly a voice, very familiar to his ears,
called out:
"Why, Jack, is that you? What are you
doing here ?"
Jack looked up, and in the dim light of the
lantern saw who it was. It was Christian
Why, Dred," he cried out, "is that you ?
What are you doing here ?"
"That 's what I axed you," said Dred.
"What are you doing here at this time of
night ? "
Why," said Jack, I '11 tell you, Dred, and
I 'm mightily glad I've found you, too. I 'm
running away from my master. He used me
mightily ill, and he was going to have me
whipped to-morrow."
"Who was your master ? said Dred.
Why," said Jack, I don't know whether
you '11 know anything of him or not. 'T was
Mr. Richard Parker."
A little crowd of men had gathered about
him by this time, and more were coming over
from the sloop. They crowded closely about
to see what was the matter.
Mr. Richard Parker!" repeated Dred.
"Was Mr. Richard Parker your master?
Why, he was here this very afternoon. The
Captain came up here to see Mr. Richard
Parker, and that 's why he be here. Why
was your master going to beat you?"
Why," said Jack, "he was away from home,
and so I went out gunning to-day. He was
going to whip me, but I would n't let him, and
while I was fighting him off, he stumbled over a

chair and fell down. Then he called a lot of
men to come and lock me up, and was going to
have me whipped to-morrow. I believe he 'd
'a' whipped me to death. But a friend came
and let me get away, and then I took one
of the boats and rowed across the river, and
so here I be."
"What are you going to do now?" asked
Dred, after a pause.
"Why," said Jack, I thought maybe I
might work a passage to Norfolk in this sloop.
I 'd seen it from t' other side."
"You come along with me," said Dred.
"I '11 be back again in a trifle or so, Miller,"
he said to the man who carried the lantern.
He pushed his way through the crowd that had
surrounded them, and led Jack along the
landing toward the shore. Suddenly he spoke.
: Look 'e," said he, we were talking about the
pirates. Well, I '11 tell you what 't is, lad; that 's
Blackbeard's sloop yonder at the end of the
wharf. The Captain has some business up here
in the river, and that 's why we 're here."
The Captain ? said Jack. Do you mean
Blackbeard ? "
"Why, yes," said Dred; "that 's what some
on 'em calls him. And 't is to Blackbeard I 'm
going to take ye now. For, lad, if ye wants to
get away, the only thing I can do for to help ye
is to get the Captain to take ye along of us, and
you '11 have to join with us, and that's all I can
do for you. Will you do that ? "
"Why," said Jack, "indeed I will. I 'm
glad enough to go anywhere to get away."
Dred was still holding him by the arm; he
gave it a squeeze. Well, we '11 just go up to
Bullock's and have a talk with the Captain
about it."
They left the landing and ascended a little
rise of ground to the house, the door of which
stood open, and from which was coming the
sound of loud voices and now and then a burst
of laughter. Dred, still holding Jack by the
arm, led him up to the door of the house and
into it.
It seemed to be a sort of rude country store
-a wide, barrack, shed-like place. There were
a kind of bench or counter, some shelves seem-
ingly empty, and two or three barrels apparently
of spirits. The room was reeking hot, and full of

' JA a -

T I i'

'1 **


.-tp? pp .:


men. Some of the men had the appearance of
planters or settlers; others looked like sailors.
Dred, still holding Jack by the arm, looked
around for a brief moment; then he elbowed
his way through the crowd to the other end of
the room. He led Jack up to a man who sat
upon a barrel, swinging one leg and holding a
glass in the hand that rested upon his knee.
Jack knew the man as soon as he saw him.
It was the stranger who had come twice to the
Roost. He was still dressed in the sort of sailor-
dress in which Jack had last seen him, and his
beard was plaited into three plaits that hung
down over his breast.
As Dred led Jack up to him he did not move,
except to raise his eyes.
Captain," said Dred, "this young man 's just
came ashore down at the wharf. I know him
well, Captain, seeing as how he came over from
England with me, and that we was, in a way,
messmates. He 's run away from his master,
and says he'd like to jine with us. He'sa good,
able-bodied lad, and very willing, too."
"Don't you come from Mr. Parker's?" said
the Captain, in his hoarse, husky voice.
"Yes, I do," said Jack. "He was going to
have me whipped, and I ran away from him."
"I thought I knew your face," said the Cap-
tain. "And so you 're running away, are you?
And he was going to beat you, was he ? Well,
I dare say you deserved it. What were you
doing to have him beat you?"
The crowd pressed close up around them. It
was steaming hot. "Stand back," said Dred,
"you 're treading all over us."
"Why," said Jack, "I- I was n't really, so to
say, doing anything to be whipped for. I went
out gunning with the overseer, and while I was
gone Mr. Parker came back. He tried to whip
me with a riding-whip, but I would n't let him,
and then he had me locked up, and was going
to have me whipped to-morrow."
"Well," said the Captain, "Mr. Parker and I
are very good friends, and I don't choose to
help his servants to run away. So I '11 just run
across to-morrow, and drop you at Mr. Parker's
on our way up the river."
Jack's heart fell away within him like a lump
of lead at the words. "Oh, sir-" he began,
but Dred gave his arm a warning pinch, and he

was silent. Then Dred quitted his hold upon
him. He went close up to the pirate Captain,
and began whispering in his ear. The pirate
listened gloomily and sullenly. "Well, I can't
help that," said he aloud to something Dred
had said. But Dred talked on to the other,
who still sat listening as Dred continued whis-
pering in his ear. Suddenly the Captain raised
his elbow and pushed Dred away. Dred leaned
forward to whisper some last words as the other
thrust him off. "I wish you would n't come
here troubling me this way, Chris Dred," said
he. "I don't care anything about the fellow;
he won't be any use to me. Well, then, take
him aboard if you choose, and I '11 think about
it to-morrow morning. Now go you back to
the sloop. You should n't have left it, as 't is."
Again Dred took Jack by the arm. "Come
along, Jack," said he; "'t is all right."
"But he said he was going to send me
back," said Jack, as they pushed their way out
through the room again.
"Oh, that 's all very well; he won't send you
back," said Dred. "You just set your mind at
rest on that."
"Tell me," said Jack, "was that Black-
"Why, yes," said Dred, "that 's what they
call him hereabouts."

Jack awoke almost at the dawn of day. He
looked about himi, at first not knowing just
where he was. The hold of the sloop was full of
the forms of sleeping men huddled into groups
and clusters. The air was heavy and oppressive.
He sat for a while staring about him, then sud-
denly he remembered everything and where he
was. He aroused himself, and, cautiously step-
ping over the sleeping forms without disturbing
them, went up the ladder to the deck above. A
thick fog had arisen during the night, and every-
thing was shrouded in an impenetrable mist.
It drifted in great clouds across the deck. The
ropes and sheets were wet and fuzzy with the
misty moisture that had settled upon them.
The sails looked heavy and sodden with damp-
ness, and the decks and three boats hanging
from the davits were also dripping wet. Two
or three of the crew were still upon watch in
the early morning. One of them, his hair and


woolen cap white with particles of moisture, lay
stretched upon the top of the galley deck-house
with a carbine lying beside him. He was
smoking his pipe. A faint, blue thread of
smoke arose in the mist-laden air. He raised
himself upon his elbow, and stared at Jack as
he came up on deck. The cook, who was also
awake, was down in the galley, and every now
and then the clatter of pans sounded loud in
the damp silence. A cloud of smoke from the
newly lighted galley-fire rolled in great volume
out of the stove-pipe, and drifted slowly across
the deck and through the ratlines. In the
brightening light Jack could see more of his
surroundings. There was a large cannon in the
bow of the sloop, partly covered by a tarpaulin.
There were two carronades amidships. The
sloop still lay lashed to the end of the wharf.
The shore was hidden in the fog, only now and
then just showing a dim, fleeting, misty outline,
which the next moment would be again lost in
the drifting cloud.
A figure dim and white in the distance stood
looking over the stem down into the water. It
was very familiar to Jack, and, when presently it
turned toward him, he saw that it was Christian
Dred. As soon as Dred saw Jack, he came
directly forward to where he was. "Well,"
said he, catching him by the arm and shaking
it, "here be you and here be I-'your won-
derful man'-and we 're together again, hey?"
and Jack burst out laughing.

Gradually the signs of awakening life began
to show aboard the sloop. The men were com-
ing up from below. After a while the fat face
of a negro woman appeared at the companion-
way of the cabin. She stood there for a while,
looking around her. Then she disappeared
again below, and presently the Captain himself
came up on deck, from the cabin aft. He,
too, stood for a while, his head just showing
above the companionway, looking about him
with eyes heavy and bleared with sleep. Then
he came slowly up on deck. He beckoned to
one of the men-a negro-who,in his bare feet,
ran and hauled up a pail of water from along-
side. Jack watched the pirate Captain as he
washed his face in the water, puffing and
splashing and spluttering, rubbing it into his

shaggy hair. Then he fished out a yellow and
coarse comb from his pocket, and, with a great
deal of care, parted his hair in the middle and
smoothed it down on either side. Then he be-
gan plaiting the two locks at his temples, look-
ing about him all the while.
The sound of hissing and sizzling was coming
from the galley as Jack walked to the bow, and
the air was full of the smell of cooking pork.
During the early part of the morning a rude
cart, drawn by two oxen, came out along the
wharf. It was driven by a negro. Two men,
with carbines over their shoulders, marched be-
side it. There were two barrels full of fresh
water in the cart. A half-dozen of the crew
lifted the barrels out of the cart, and rolled them
aboard the sloop.
A breeze had come up as the sun rose higher,
and in an hour or more it was about the
middle of the morning the fog began to drift
away in bright yellow clouds, through which the
luster of the sun shone thin and watery. Now
and then the outline of the houses on the shore
stood out faint and dim. They looked very dif-
ferent to Jack in the wide light of day. Then
the sun burst out in a sudden bright hot gleam.
The pirate Captain had gone down below, but
Dred and the sailing-master, Hands, were on
deck. The boatswain's whistle trilled shrilly,
and the great, patched, dingy mainsail, flapping
and bellying sluggishly, rose slowly with the yo-
hoing of the sailors and the creaking of block
and tackle. The lines were cast loose. Dred
stood directing the men as they pushed the
sloop off with the sweeps. Some of the settlers
had come down to the shore and stood watch-
ing. "All right!" called Dred; and Hands
spun the wheel around. The sloop fell slowly
off, the sail filled out smooth and round, and the
vessel bore slowly away out into the river. The
men on the wharf shouted an adieu, and two or
three of the men aboard the sloop replied.

SOMETIME a little after noon, the sloop sailed
into the wide mouth of a lesser stream that
opened into the broader waters of the James.
"I reckon they 're going to bring her up



back o' the p'int yonder," said one of the pirates
to Jack.
And why do they take the sloop up there ? "
asked Jack.
Why, d' ye see," said the other, there '11
nobody see us back o' the p'int, and what
we 've got to do, now we 're so far up the river
here, is to keep out of sight as much as ever we
Is n't that a house over on the other side
of the river ? asked Jack. "Those look like
chimneys that I see."
"Why, yes," said the other, "that 's a place
they call Marlborough. They say 't is a grand,
big, fine house."
Marlborough ?" said Jack, "-and so 't is
a big, fine house, for I 've been there myself,
and have seen it. 'T is as grand a house as
ever you would wish to see."
Do you know it ? said the other. Well,
't is where the Captain 's going to-night."
"What 's he going there for ?" asked Jack.
He 's going to bring off a young lady what
he 's going to take down to North Caroliny,"
said the man.
Jack did not for a moment suppose anything
but that the lady of whom the pirate spoke was
to be a willing passenger. He only wondered
why she should choose to make the trip in
Blackbeard's boat.
The sloop lay in the creek all the afternoon.
Dred was in the cabin nearly all the time, and
Jack saw almost nothing of him. Meantime
the crew occupied themselves variously. Six
of them near Jack were playing cards intently;
he lay upon the forecastle hatch watching them.
Every now and then the thrum-thrumming of a
guitar sounded from the cabin. As the dealer
dealt the cards around, one of the pirates
snapped his fingers in time to the strumming of
the music. "I tell you what 't is, messmates,"
said he, "the Captain be the masterest hand at
the guitar that ever I heard in all my life."
"To be sure," said another, "he do play well
enough; but Jem Willoughby down in Bath
Town can give him points how to play."
Did ye ever hear Jem Willoughby play the
fandango?" said one of the half-dozen men
who lay at a little distance under the shade of
the rail.

Never mind Jem Willoughby and the fan-
dango now; you play your game, messmates,
and never mind Jem Willoughby," said another.
The afternoon slowly waned; the sun set, and
a dim gray of twilight seemed to rise from the
swampy lagoon. Then the dusk shaded darker
and darker to the dimness of early nightfall.
Suddenly the pirate Captain came up on deck,
followed by Hands and Dred. Dred spoke
to the boatswain, who came forward directly,
and ordered the crew of the three boats to
lower them and bring them alongside. Then
there followed a bustle of preparation. Pres-
ently, through the confusion, Jack saw that the
men were arming themselves. They were going
down below into the cabin, and'were coming
up again, each with a pistol or a brace of pistols
and a cutlas. Finally Morton, the gunner,
came up on deck, and soon after the crews be-
gan scrambling over the rail and into the three
boats, with a good deal- of noise and disorder.
It was after dark when they finally pushed off
from the sloop. The pirate Captain sat in the
stern of the yawl-boat, Hands took command
of one of the others, and Dred and Morton of
the third. Jack stood watching them pull away
into the darkness, the regular chug-chug-chug
of the oars in the rowlocks sounding fainter and
fainter as the dim shapes of the boats were lost
in the distance.
Everything seemed strangely silent after the
boats were gone. Only five men besides Jack
remained aboard the sloop, and the stillness
seemed almost tangible. The tide gurgled and
lapped alongside.
Where are they going ?" Jack asked of one
of the men who stood beside him leaning over
the rail and smoking his pipe and looking after
his companions.
Why," said he, without looking around,
"they be going over the river to a place called
Marlborough. They be going to fetch a young

Colonel Parker was away from home. He
had gone to Williamsburgh, but there was some
company at Marlborough- Mr. Cartwright (a
cousin of Madam Parker's) and his wife, and
the Reverend Jonathan Jones, minister of Marl-
borough parish church, a rather sleek, round-



faced man, dressed in sober clerical black, with
a very white wig and a smooth clearstarched
band of fine semi-transparent linen. Madam
Parker and her guests sat at a game of ruff.
Miss Eleanor Parker was trying a piece of
music at the spinet, playing smoothly, but with
an effort at certain points, and then stumbling
at the more difficult passages, to which she
sometimes returned, repeating them. The four
played their game out silently, and then, as the
last trick was taken, released the restraint of
attentive silence by a sudden return of ease.
"'T was two by honors this time, I think,"
said Mr. Cartwright to Madam Parker, who was
his partner.
"Yes," said she; I held the queen and ace
myself, and you the knave."
"Then that makes four points for us," said
Mr. Cartwright as he marked them.
"'T is strange how ill the hands run with me
to-night," said the reverend gentleman. "That
makes the third hand running without a single
court-card." He opened his snuff-box, and
offered it to Madam Parker and then to the
others, taking finally a profound and vigorous
pinch for himself, and shutting the lid of the
box with a snap. Madam Parker and her part-
ner smiled with the amused good nature of
winners at the game.
Presently the young lady ceased playing, and
began turning over the leaves of her music-
In the pause of silence there came suddenly
a loud and violent knock upon the outside
hall door. Madam Parker started. "Why,
who can that be?" said she, folding her hand
of cards nervously, and looking around the
table at the others.
The players looked at one another, and Miss
Eleanor partly turned around upon her music-
They listened as the negro crossed the hall to
answer the knock. Then came the sound of
the rattling of the chain and the turning of the
key. Then the door was opened. As the card-
players listened they heard the sound of a
man's voice, and then the reply of the negro.
Then again the man's voice, and then the
negro's again- this time speaking, as it seemed,
rather eagerly. Then there came a sharp ex-

clamation, and then a noise as of some one
pushed violently against the door-then silence.
Suddenly there was the sound of heavy feet
crossing the hall. Mr. Cartwright rose from
his seat, and the Reverend Jonathan Jones
turned half-way round in his chair. The next
instant three or four men with blackened faces
were in the room. The foremost man wore the
loose petticoat trousers of a sailor, a satin waist-
coat, and a coat and hat trimmed with gold
braid. His face was tied up in a handkerchief.
He had gold ear-rings in his ears. Don't you
be frightened," said he, in a hoarse, husky voice;
"there 'll no harm happen to you, if you only
be quiet and make no noise. But I won't have
any noise, d' ye hear?"
The three ladies sat staring with wide-eyed,
breathless terror and amazement at the speaker.
His companions stood silently at the doorway,
each armed with a brace of pistols.
"What do you want?" said Mr. Cartwright.
"Who are you? What do you want?" He
had grown very pale.
The stranger, though he was armed, did not
carry any weapon in his hand. He came out
a little further into the. room. "Ye see I
have nothing to make you afraid of me!"
said he, opening the palms of his hands. "So
you may see I mean you no harm. But, hark 'e,
there 's to be no noise-no screaming, d' ye
understand, nor calling for help. So long
as you keep still, no harm shall be done to
any of ye-man or woman."
"You villain!" cried out Mr. Cartwright,
with rising courage. "What do you mean by
coming here this way, breaking into Colonel
SParker's house, and blustering and threatening ?
Do you know where you are?" He pushed
back the chair from which he had arisen, and
looked around the room as though seeking for
some weapon.
"Come, come, sir," said the other sharply,
and he clapped his hand to the butt of one of
his pistols. Don't you make any trouble for
yourself, sir. I say there '11 be nobody harmed
if you don't make any trouble. But if you do,
I tell you plain, it '1 be the worse for you. I've
got a score of men outside, and you can't do
anything at all; and if you make any trouble
you '11 be shot, with no good to come of it. I '11


tell you what we came for--but first of all
I want you to understand plainly that no harm
is intended to the young lady, and that no harm
shall happen to her and this is it: Young
Mistress Parker yonder must go along with us.
That 's what we are here for. We 're to take
her away with us."
The words were hardly out of his mouth
when Madam Parker started up from her chair
with a loud and violent scream. Then she
fell back again, catching at the table, and over-
turning one of the candles. The other ladies
screamed as in instant echo, and shriek after
shriek rang piercingly through the house. Miss
Eleanor Parker flew swiftly across the room,
running behind Mr. Cartwright, and, flinging
herself upon her knees beside her mother, she
buried her face in Madam Parker's lap. "You
villain! roared Mr. Cartwright, and the next
moment he had snatched up the heavy candle-
stick that had been overturned. He threw it
with all his might at the head of the man.
The pirate ducked, and the candlestick flew
over his head, striking with a crash against the
wall beyond. "What d' ye mean? roared the
pirate. Then, as Mr. Cartwright grasped at
the other candlestick, Don't you touch that
candlestick! Ha! would you?" The next
instant he had flung himself upon the gentle-
man, clutching him around the body. Mr.
Cartwright struck at the other again and again,
trying to free himself. For one moment he
had almost wrenched himself loose. The men
at the door ran around to their leader's aid. A
chair was overturned with a crash, and the
next moment the two had stumbled over it
and fallen, and had rolled under the table.
Mr. Jones, with a face ghastly white, and eyes
straining with terror, thrust away his chair and
rose, drawing back from the two as they strug-
gled and kicked upon the floor beneath the
table. Still the ladies screamed piercingly,
shriek after shriek. Would you ? breath-
lessly growled the pirate Captain under the
table you 'd better beware. Here,- Mor-
ton,- Dred,- the fellow 's choking me! ach !
let go there!" The men who had run to his aid
struggled to drag the two apart, and a dozen or
more, all with faces blackened, came running
into the room just as they were separated. The

pirate Captain scrambled to his feet disheveled
and furious. Before he raised himself he tied
up his face in the handkerchief again. Then
he stood up, feeling at his throat and glaring
around him. Mr. Cartwright also arose; his
lip had been cut in the struggle and was bleed-
ing. The ladies' screams redoubled. Be
still! roared the pirate Captain. Can't you
quiet those women ?" he cried to his men.
One of the men caught Madam Parker by
the arm. Be quiet, Madam; stop that noise,
or 't will be the worse for you," said he, roughly,
and at his touch Madam Parker ceased her
Mrs. Cartwright also ceased screaming, and
now sat deathly pale. Mr. Cartwright had
been stunned by his fall. He stood with the
blood running unnoticed from his cut lip down
upon his shirt-front. But the pause was only
for a moment. Suddenly again, and without
warning, he gave a furious wrench that almost
freed him from his captors. "You villains!"
he cried hoarsely. "You villains He did
not know what he was saying. Then suddenly
once more all was confusion and uproar. Mr.
Cartwright was struggling furiously with the
men holding him. Up and down they strug-
gled, scuffling and banging against the fur-
niture. The ladies were not screaming now.
Now and then Mr. Cartwright's face was hid-
den; now and then it showed again, flaming red
and distorted with passion. There were then
four men upon him. Then suddenly they all
fell with a crash. "Hold him down! roared
the pirate Captain, "hold him down."
Then followed a lull. The four men held
Mr. Cartwright to the floor. His breathing
came thick and hoarse. His face was strained
and knotted with fury. Every now and then
he made a futile effort to wrench his arm loose.
I don't know what you all mean, anyhow,"
said the pirate Captain, "squalling and fight-
ing like that. Zounds! said he to Mr. Cart-
wright, as he lay upon the floor,--"I believe
you 've broke my Adam's-apple I do. I tell
you," said he to Madam Parker, who, white and
haggard and shrunk together with terror, sat
looking up at him, I tell you, and I tell you
again, that I don't mean any harm to you or to
the young lady. She 's got to go along with


me, and that's all. I tell you I '11 take good
care of her, and she '11 be in the care of a wo-
man who knows how to look after her, and that
just as soon as his honor the Colonel chooses
to pay for her coming back, then she '11 come.
I 've got a boat down here at the shore, and
I 'm going to take the young lady off in it,
d' ye understand? No harm '11 come to her.
But, if she wants to carry any change of her
clothes along with her to wear, she 'd better get
'em together. D' ye understand me, Madam?
"As I tell you, I want the young lady to be
as comfortable as she can, and if you don't get
something for her to wear and make her com-
fortable, I've got to take her as she is. Now,
Madam, will you get some clothes together?
Maybe you '11 send one of your black women to
get them."
Madam Parker sat gazing at him without
moving; the pirate Captain stood looking at
her. "What 's the matter with her anyhow ? "
said he. One of the men stooped forward and
looked into her face. "Why, Captain," said he,
"the lady's dazed like; she does n't know what
you're saying. Don't you see that she does n't
understand a word you say?"
The Captain looked around and his eyes fell
upon Mrs. Cartwright. D' ye think ye could
get the young lady some clothes to take away
with her, Mistress ? said he. Now, Mistress,
will you go and get her clothes for her, or will
she have to go with only what she has ? "
"Thou shalt not go for them, Polly," cried
Mr. Cartwright hoarsely, from where he lay upon
the floor.
But, Edward, she must have clothes to
wear," said Mrs. Cartwright.
Mr. Cartwright groaned. "You are breaking
my arm," said he to one of the men that held
Why then, Master," said the man, "if you
would n't fight us off so we would n't treat you
so roughly." And as he spoke he released Mr.
Cartwright's arm a little.
Shall I go, Edward? said Mrs. Cartwright.
Mr. Cartwright groaned again. "You '11
have to go, Polly," said he; "there 's nothing
else to do. But, oh, you villains! Mark my
words: You '11 hang for this every mother's
son of you! "

"Why, I like your spirit, Mr. Tobacco-
Planter! said the pirate Captain. "And
maybe you '11 hang us and maybe you won't,
but we '11 take our chances on that." Then,
with a sudden ferocity, "I 've put up with all
the talk from you I 'm going to bear, and if you
know what 's good for you you '11 stop your
'villains' and your 'hangings,' and all that.
We 've got the upper hand here, and you 're
the bird that 's down, so you won't crow any
more, if you please." Then to Mrs. Cartwright,
"Now, Mistress," said he, "are you ready to
fetch those clothes? You go along with her,
Chris," to one of the men who stood with the
others. As for you," he said to the Reverend
Jonathan Jones, "go and stand by the ladies
yonder. Maybe 't will make them easier to
have a friend near them."
After a while Mrs. Cartwright came into the
room again, followed by Dred, who carried a
large silk traveling-bag full of clothes. The
lady was crying, making no attempt to wipe
away the tears that ran down her cheeks. Mr.
Cartwright lay helpless upon the floor, where the
three mnen had now bound him securely. The
pirate Captain came forward and stooped over
Miss Eleanor as she knelt with her face in her
mother's lap. "Come, Mistress," said he, you
must go along with us now." He waited for a
moment, but she made no reply. You must
go along with us," he repeated in a louder tone,
and he took her by the arm as he spoke. Still
she made no sound of having heard him. Then
he stooped over and lifted her head. Mr.
Cartwright caught sight of the face, and felt a
keen thrill pierce through him. She is dead,"
he thought.
Come here, Morton," called out the pirate
Captain, "and lend a hand. The young lady 's
swooned clean away."
Madam Parker made some faint movement
as her daughter was taken from her, but she
hardly seemed to be conscious of what was
passing. Mrs. Cartwright wept hysterically in
her husband's arms as they carried the young
lady away, leaving behind them the room lit-
tered, the chair overturned, and the one candle
burning dimly on the card-table. Outside of the
house the negroes and the white servants stood
looking on in helpless, interested terror from a


distance, hidden by the darkness. Mr. Simms
was sitting in his office, gagged and bound in
his chair.
JACK sat with the watch upon the deck of
the sloop. The vessel lay pretty close to the
shore, and the myriad sounds from the dark,
woody wilderness seemed to fill the air-the
sharp quivering rasp of multitudinous insects,
the strange noise of the night birds, and now
and then the snapping and cracking of a branch
and always the lapping gurgle of water. Jack
sat on a coil of rope, watching the twinkling
flicker of the fireflies, and listening to the men
as they talked among themselves about people
whom he did not know. There was a great in-
terest in hearing what they said, and so catching,
as it were, a glimpse of lives so different from
his own. A lantern swung in the shrouds shed-
ding a dim, yellow circle of light upon the deck,
in which sat and squatted the five men left in
charge of the sloop.
It must be pretty near midnight," said an-
other of the men irrelevantly, looking up into
the starry sky as he spoke.
Listen. I hear summat," said another, hold-
ing up his finger. Like enough it be the boats
a-coming back."
They all listened intently, but only the cease-
less murmurings of the night filled the air, and
always the lapping gurgle of the water.
One of the men- he who had spoken be-
fore-suddenly scrambled to his feet. "There
they are," said he, sharply; "I heard them."
A breath of air had sprung up from the river,
and had brought down with it the distant
sound of the measured chug-chug of the oars
in the rowlocks.
Yes, that 's them for certain," said another
of the watch, and every one scrambled to his
feet. They all stood looking out toward the
river. It was a great while before the distant
boats gradually shaped themselves into forms
out of the pale watery darkness beyond.
" There they are; I see them," said one of the
men. And then in a minute or so Jack also
saw the dim outline of the dark blots upon the
water. As the boats slowly drew nearer and

nearer to the sloop, Jack climbed up into the
shrouds, whence he might obtain a better view
of the men when they should come aboard. A
few minutes later they were alongside the sloop;
the yawl-boat first of all. The men unshipped
their oars with a rattle and clatter. Some of them
caught the chains just below Jack as the boat slid
under the side of the sloop. The other boats came
alongside almost at the same time. Jack could
see by the light of the lantern that those in the
stern of the yawl were assisting a dark figure to
arise. He saw that a sort of hushed attention
was directed toward where it was. He wondered
what was the matter, and his first thought was
that some one had been hurt; then he saw that
they were helping somebody up to the deck, and
then, as the light fell upon the face, recognition
came with a sudden keen shock. It was Miss
Eleanor Parker,-and even in the dim light he
could see that her face was very white. Then
he saw that the faces of'all that had come in
the boats were blackened as though with soot.
The pirate Captain had come aboard the sloop.
"Easy now," said he, as they lifted the young
lady up to the deck. Jack clung to the ratlines,
looking after them as they partly supported,
partly carried, the fainting figure across the
deck. The next moment they had assisted her
down into the cabin. Then Jack, who had
been lost in wonder, returned sharply to the
consciousness of other things. He became
aware of the confusion of the boats' crews com-
ing aboard, the rattling and clatter and move-
ment and bustle all around him on the deck.
" Look alive, now, Gibbons! he heard Hands's
voice say to the boatswain. Get her under
way as quick as you can." And he knew that
the sloop was about to quit its anchorage.

In the morning Jack found that the sloop was
beating down the river in the face of a stiff
breeze. They had been sailing all night, and
had made a long reach. He recognized where
they were. The shore toward which they were
now heading was the high, sandy bluff that
overlooked the oyster banks where he had once
gone fishing with Dennis and the negro. He
could see in the distance the shed standing
upon the summit of the high, sandy bank. It
looked very strange and new to him, and at the


same time curiously familiar. It was as though
a piece of his past life had been broken out and
placed oddly into the setting of his present life.
"Where's Jack Ballister ? he heard Dred's
voice say, and then he turned round sharply.
Here I am !" said he.
Dred came forward a little distance, then he
beckoned and Jack came to him. The young
lady down in the cabin seems very queer like,"
said he. "She won't say nothing, and she
won't eat nothing. Did n't you say as you
know'd her at one time and that she know'd you
or summat of the sort ? "
Why, yes," said Jack, I remember her very
well, but I don't know whether she remembers
me now or not. One time I rode up to Marl-
borough for my master, and she knew me then."
"Well, look 'e," said Dred, "the Captain
thinks as how it might rouse her up a bit if
somebody as know'd her was to come down and
speak to her."
I don't know," said Jack, whether I could
do her any good or no, but I '11 try."
The pirate Captain was thrum-thrumming
his guitar in the cabin. Jack went down; it
was the first time he had been there. The
cabin had been fitted up with some consider-
able comfort, but now it was disorderly. Hands
was lying, apparently asleep, upon the bench
that ran around the cabin; Captain Teach sat
upon the other side of the table. He held his
guitar across his breast, and his brown fingers--
one of them wearing a silver ring--picked at
the strings. Beyond the Captain, a dark figure
lay in the berth still and motionless. Jack
could see one hand, as white as wax, resting

upon the edge of the berth, and he noticed the
shine of the rings upon the fingers. The negro
woman whom Jack had seen the first day that
he had come aboard, was sitting near to the
silent figure she had evidently been brought
to act as an attendant upon the young lady.
She sat there silent and stolid, her turban bla-
zing like a flame in the darkness of the place.
She rolled her eyes whitely at Jack as he en-
tered, but otherwise she did not move. There
was an untasted dish of chicken and rice stand-
ing upon the table.
Captain Teach looked at him as he entered.
He stopped playing as Jack came to the berth
where the young lady lay, and kneeled with one
knee upon the cushions of the bench. The pi-
rate looked at the lad with curiosity. Jack
stood there for a while not knowing what to
say. "Won't you eat something, Mistress ?"
he said awkwardly. No reply. "Won't you eat
something, Mistress ?" he said again--"a bit
of chicken and some rice. Won't you eat it ? "
She shook her head without turning around.
He stood there for a while in silence looking at
her. She won't pay any heed to me," said he
at last, .turning toward Captain Teach.
"Ask her if she don't know you," suggested
Don't you know me, Mistress? said Jack.
"I 'm Jack Ballister your uncle's servant."
But still there was no reply.
The pirate Captain looked at her for a while
in brooding thought. Oh, very well then,"
said he, 'f let her alone; she '11 be sharp enough
for something to eat, maybe, by afternoon. You
can take the victuals back to the galley."

(To be continued.)



THE sunlight flushes the yellow corn,
And the wheat-heads bow and sway;
And the moonbeams patient vigil keep
When the sunlight steals away.
The whippoorwill loves the moonbeam's time,
But the bobolink loves the day.



VOL. XXII.-6. 4x

(Tenth fiaer of the series, Quadrufeds ofNortl A merca.")


AFTER the sea-lions, the remainder of our
pinnipeds belong to what is called the Hair
Seal Family, which should be known simply as
the Seal Family, as separated from the sea-lions.
Like the sea-lions, they are flesh-eaters, living
on both land and sea, feeding chiefly upon fish.
Their bodies are fat, almost shapeless, and lie
upon the ground like bags of meal.
Nearly all the seals have large eyes, rounded
heads, short necks, and coarse hair of no value
save to the Eskimo. They have no outer
ears. Some of them are quite social in their
habits, but a few are rather solitary. On the
whole, they make an exceedingly varied and
interesting group; but, with the exception of
the Harbor Seal, the several species are about
as unknown to the average American as if they
inhabited the planet Mars. The question is, can
we better that condition? At all events, the
rarest species shall have first place in the trial.
Behold how easy it is for men to remain in
gross ignorance of facts that lie at their door,
and over which they actually stumble every now
and then, without really seeing them. And
what is still worse, thousands of people can
actually look at many things without seeing
In 1494 Columbus and his crew landed on
a little rocky islet south of Haiti, which they
named Alta Vela, to look from its summit for
his missing caravels. They saw not the ships,
but "they killed eight sea-wolves that were
sleeping on the sands." For three hundred and
fifty years following the discovery of the WEST
INDIAN SEAL by Columbus, the creature re-
mained absolutely un-
known to the scientific
(Mo'a-chus tro-i-ca'is.) world. In 1846 a muti-
lated skin was preserved and sent to the British
Museum, and it was not until 1885 that our
National Museum obtained from Cuba the first
perfect specimen ever preserved. The species

had a very narrow escape from being extermin-
ated before the scientific world had even an
opportunity to shake hands with it and say,
"How do you do? Pleased to make your
For many years our naturalists believed that
the species had been totally exterminated for
its oil. But in December, 1886, Mr. Henry L.
Ward and a Mexican naturalist, Professor F.
Ferrari Perez, made what scientific men call a
re-discovery of the species. It occurred on
three tiny islets called the Triangles, situated in
the southwestern part of the Gulf of Mexico,
and about 150 miles due northwest of the city
of Campeachy. There the explorers found what
is possibly the only surviving colony of West
Indian Seals, basking lazily on the raised
beaches of coral and sand, and rearing their
young. So little did the sluggish creatures
know of man's dangerous ways in dealing with
wild animals, that instead of scurrying into the
water before the hunters arrived within gun-
shot, they lazily lay there and allowed the col-
lectors to walk up within three feet of them.
Mr. Ward states (in the American Naluralist)
that when first attacked they offered very little
resistance, but on the second and third days
they showed fight, and would often make sav-
age but futile rushes at the members of the
party. Apparently the two naturalists could
have chloroformed their specimens if they had
possessed the drug, and desired to take them in
that way. The lazy creatures had none of the
activity and energy of the seals of colder lati-
tudes, and the backs of several were so over-
grown with alga, or seaweed, as to make them
appear quite green.
The West Indian Seal is formed very much
like the common Harbor Seal. The adult male
is about seven feet- in length, and is of a dark
umber brown or grayish-brown color, according
to age. With its dull color and clumsy form,


it is the least beautiful of all our seals. This
species is almost certain to be exterminated in
the near future, for the sake of the paltry yield
of oil to be obtained from it.
rarity to the preceding species: an animal with a
fearfully long Latin
(Mad'ro-rinu an-gs-ti-ros'tris.) short stay on this
earth. It is the largest of all the seals, its aver-
age length when fully grown being from twelve

harsh, and when clean and dry is of a dusky
yellowish color. This species once inhabited
about two hundred miles of the coast of Califor-
nia, from Point Reyes southward, but it has been
practically exterminated for the sake of its oil.
In 1884 Mr. C. H. Townsend visited Santa Bar-
bara Island for the express purpose of preserv-
ing for the National Museum the skins and
skeletons of what were supposed to be the last
survivors of the species, then about to be killed
by a seal-hunter for their oil. The result was

74,- -~--t
4 E~s

--?'~-~" _f_~~~~
4 2'PP----

L;c9r *,- tSda.
* ,~ ~-,,rtII~*f~~ L~


to fourteen feet, while it sometimes reaches the
astonishing length of twenty-two feet, including
the hind flippers. It is still an open question
whether this animal is of the same species as
the sea-elephant of the Antarctic Ocean. Our
animal, like the other, derives its popular name
from the lengthened, tapir-like proboscis, or
snout, of the old males, which sometimes projects
six inches or more beyond the end of the muzzle.
The hair is exceedingly short, very stiff, and

that at the eleventh hour a number of very val-
uable skins and skeletons were saved for the
zoological museums of the world.
About the same time, an enterprising collec-
tor actually captured five young specimens
alive, and shipped them to New York, Balti-
more, Philadelphia, and Cincinnati -which was
the first and only time the species was ever
seen alive in the Eastern United States, and
will doubtless be the last. But I am glad to be


able to state that these seals are not absolutely
extinct, for a short time ago Mr. Townsend as-
sured me that a few individuals are yet living
somewhere south of San Francisco, in a place
that the seal-hunters know not of; and, in the
language of Jefferson's Rip Van Winkle,"
"May they live long and prosper! "

Quite as strange in form as the preceding
species is the HOODED SEAL, or BLADDER-
NOSE, of the North Atlan-
tic, whose remarkable" hood "
(Cys-topk'oracris-t''a.) has been misunderstood, er-
roneously drawn, and incorrectly mounted all
his life long, until the year 1883. Then Dr. C.
Hart Merriam visited his haunts off Labrador,
collected a fine series of specimens, and brought
back correct drawings of the creature's head.
In all illustrations published prior to 1884,

nounced by him to be the most perfect repre-
sentation of the species yet produced.
The ground color of the Hooded Seal is a
dark bluish-gray, in which are sprinkled irregu-
lar patches and mottlings of black. The young
are born with a thick covering of woolly white
hair, which is soon shed and replaced by a stiff
coat of steel-gray, which darkens with age.
The average length of the adult male
Hooded Seal is about seven and a half feet, and
the females are a little smaller. One killed by
Lieutenant Greely in Kane Sea measured
eight feet four and a half inches, and "weighed
probably 600 pounds." They are not very so-
cial in their habits, says Dr. Merriam, usually
only the two old ones and their young being
found close together. This species is at home
on the ice-floes off the shores of Newfoundland,
Labrador, the various Lands and islands to


the huge, swollen, and bladder-like appendage,
which really overhangs the mouth, has been
placed on the top of the head, between the
eyes! The accompanying illustration, drawn
from specimens in the National Museumn that
were collected by Dr. Merriam, has been pro-

the north, and off Greenland as far north as 790
io' north latitude. It is also found in North-
ern Europe, and has been known to wander
even as far south as Chesapeake Bay. In 1824
one was captured at East Chester, within fifteen
miles of New York city. Like all other large



I ______ ___ 7 i:___________

seals, this species has for years past been dili-
gently hunted for its oil, and in the days when
they were plentiful many thousands were killed
each year.
The adult male HARP SEAL, or SADDLE-BACK
SEAL, is the most beautiful of all our true seals,
and also the most abundant
HARP SEAL. and valuable. Thousands
(Pho'ca gr ,-land'i-ca.) are killed annually off New-
*foundland and Labrador for their oil. The
prevailing color of this species is creamy yel-
low,- when clean and dry,- on which is laid a
broad and conspicuous saddle-mark of jet-black,
which sometimes half covers the middle of the
side, and is partly repeated on the head. The
female is of a dull white or straw color, and when
born the young are quite white and woolly.
The adult male is about six feet in length, and
the female five feet. The range of the Harp
Seal is almost precisely the same as that of the
Hooded Seal, except that it goes even farther
north. It was seen by Lieutenant Greely in
latitude 81 30' north, and has also been
taken as far south as the coast of New Jersey.
Most strangely colored of all seals, however,
is the curious RIBBON SEAL. On a smooth
ground color ofeitherblack-
I ish-brown or yellowish-gray
(H~s-tri-o-ho'cafa.s-c-iia'.) Nature has sportively laid
some broad, yellowish-white ribbons. One
Goes around the back of the head, and ties un-
der the throat. From somewhere under the
breast another ribbon starts upward, encircles

the shoulder, and drops down just in front of
the pelvis, where it comes together and then
runs straight over the body. In many specimens
the ribbon is of almost perfectly uniform width,
and as clean cut at the edges as if it had really
come from a loom.
In size this animal corresponds closely with
the Harp Seal, and its home, so far as is known
at present, is the waters and shores of Bering
Sea. It is rarely seen, still more rarely taken,
and very little is known of its habits. I know
of but four specimens in this country.

... --:- ,__ --.. .


Although the little RINGED SEAL, or FIORD
SEAL, contemptuously called the FLOE RAT by
English sailors, is the smallest of
RINGED SEAL. all our species, it is also the most
(pho'caft'i-d,.) enterprising. In the cold waters
of the north, it goes simply everywhere.
Throughout tens of thousands of square miles
of cold and stormy waters, broken and chaotic
ice-packs, and barren floe-ice seven feet thick,
the jolly little Netsick is the principal inhab-


:7. r


itant, ready to yield his chubby body to any
hungry Eskimo who happens to need it.
Taken altogether, this animal is to the Es-
kimos generally the most valuable source of
food and clothing of all the quadrupeds of the
north. In ranging northward, all other seals
stop about on the 8ist parallel, but the Ringed
Seal cries Excelsior!" and presses right on.
Regardless of cold and other drawbacks, he
joyously paddles past Lady Franklin Bay, out
through Robeson Channel, and into the Polar
Sea itself, which is named after our greatest
American, north of all land. It was observed
by General Greely's party in latitude 820 54'
- only thirty miles south of the farthest north
ever reached by man. What is more, General
Greely says that they winter as far north as
Robeson Channel, though he is puzzled to
know how they maintain breathing-holes where
the ice is so thick. It seems to me, however,
that with the temperature down to 600 below
zero, one lungful of air ought to be quite suffi-
cient to last any seal an entire winter.
The Ringed Seal is found in Bering Sea, and
throughout the Arctic Ocean in both hemi-
spheres. The largest individuals are only about
four feet in length, and by reason of its size, this
species is despised by the white sealers,-a
very fortunate thing for the Eskimos. In color
it is extremely variable. In a collection of fif-
teen fresh skins that once came into my hands
from Point Barrow, there were three well-de-
fined types-one almost black, another dark,
mottled with light, and a third almost yellow.
All showed the curious brownish-yellow rings
with darker centers from which the species
takes its popular name.
This is the seal which the Eskimo hunts by
simply playing a waiting game, in which pa-
tience is his most powerful weapon. He seeks
over the solid ice-floe until he finds a little
round hole running down through the ice quite
to the water, be it two feet or six. That is the
breathing-hole of a seal, which the creature has
kept open with its warm breath ever since the
ice began to form. Mr. Eskimo simply camps on
the ice beside the hole, and shivers and waits,
be it one hour or fifteen. He waits for Mr.
Seal to come and stick his nose into the bottom
of the hole, to give and take some air. When

he does so, the Eskimo promptly jabs a spear
down through the hole, into the head of the
seal. If it catches the animal and holds him fast,
all the native has to do is to chop through about
five feet of solid ice and get it.
This seal is the first aquatic animal that
Eskimo children are taught to kill, and when
seven-year-old Eskimo Johnnie kills his first
seal, the proud father hangs the teeth and front
flippers around his neck as trophies of his skill.
It is said, also, that in their eagerness to have
their children "make a record," Eskimo mo-
thers sometimes catch seals on the sly and allow
their little children to kill them, to add to their
individual scores.
THE GRAY SEAL is one of our rare species,
(Hali- c,- hs gry'hus) being found only in a lim-
ited area, and but seldom
even there. Its range in this hemisphere ex-
tends from the Gulf of St. Lawrence northward
to Davis Strait, and for a short distance along
the southeastern coast of Greenland. This seal
is of a uniform dull gray color. It is rarely seen
in museums, and if some enterprising collector
would bring in a large series of fine skins, he
might hear something to his advantage. This
is our only seal species of which I have never
mounted a specimen.

) ...


It is said that the BEARDED SEAL, or SQUARE
FLIPPER SEAL of the seal-hunters, is the second
in size of all our seals;
BEARDED SEAL. but its whole life his-
(Er-ig-na'thus bar-a'tus.) tory and distribution
is so gloriously involved in doubt and specula-
tion and guesswork that one is half tempted to
call it a myth. It seems really incredible, in this
day of persistent collecting in all quarters of the
globe, that no museum in the world (so far as can


* ., *


be learned) should possess even one good typical
adult specimen of the second largest seal species
in existence. Think of an American seal from
ten to twelve feet in length, so it is said, and

not an adult specimen of it, nor even careful
measurements, in the whole United States!
There is a very good young specimen in the
National Museum, but it is only a baby. The
Square Flipper is nowhere abundant, and being
both rare and shy, fame awaits the collector
who shall bring to us some first-class skins of
adult animals, and really introduce the species
to the world. So far, we have had to take this
seal mostly on trust, without proper credentials.
Last of all, we place the common HARBOR
SEAL, because it is the only
HARBOR SEAL. species that is really well
(Plio"ca vit-u-li'na.)
known, and we mention its
name only to make our list complete.




S-. -

7. e9r

"''f ,.e .-. -

i -

.'-..S ; -r?

(** \
\ 'A


IT rained all the way up, and was still pouring
when we landed at a little seaport among the
Mendocino redwoods. I was going up to spend
the Christmas holidays with a fellow-student
whose father owned a saw-mill on the coast.
It was fifteen miles above the destination of the
little steamer on which we voyaged from San
Francisco. We brought our wheels along, for

Tom had assured me that, although the roads
among the redwoods were too muddy for
wheeling during the rainy season, we should
find some pretty stretches of beach near his
father's mill.
We put up at the only hotel the place af-
forded, intending as soon as the weather cleared
to wheel up the coast to the saw-mill. The

- ,,


wind changed to the northwest that night, and
the storm blew itself out in a terrific gale that
lasted most of the night. How the wind did
howl and shriek about the eaves of that big
frame hotel standing on the very brink of a
bold promontory as if to catch the full force of
every gale! The sky had cleared, and a bright
moon shining in at our window induced me to
get up and watch the great breakers as they
crashed against the jagged, rocky wall that
seemed to line the whole coast.
"Where 's your beach, Tom? I asked in
surprise. I can see nothing but rocks."
"High tide, my boy," answered Tom. It's
under six feet of water, but it 's there just as
hard. Come back. to bed. We 'll catch the
tide just right in the morning, and I '11 show you
the finest beach you ever spun a wheel over."
And so I found it. We turned out for an
early breakfast, and leaving our luggage to be
sent up by stage, mounted at the door and
rolled down the little street to a beach fit to
gladden the heart of any wheelman. The glis-
tening sand, packed by the tremendous waves
that had pounded it all night long, was as hard
and firm as a cinder path, and twice as smooth.
My exclamations of delight brought a laugh
from Tom as our pneumatics began to hum
over the noiseless sands.
Did n't look much like this last night, did
it, Bob ? "
"I should say not," I replied. "But say, old
boy, is it safe ? Can we make the mill all right
before the tide comes in again ? "
Easy enough," said Tom. "I 've done it
many a time. The worst place is up there at
that big point about three miles from here.
Look! You can see the waves pounding the
rocks now. That's why I wanted to get off an
hour before low water. By the time we get
there we can whirl around those rocks without
wetting a tire."
The beach was but a narrow strip of sand
from ten to fifty yards wide, fronted by irregu-
lar, rocky cliffs that now and then jutted out to
sea, until, even at low tide, but a few feet of
beach showed itself about the base of these
jagged points.
I felt like a bird on the wing as we skimmed
along between this rocky wall, surmounted by

towering redwood forest, and the broad Pacific,
whose waters, as the result of last night's storm,
heaved and rolled in mighty swells that broke-
and toppled over with crashes of thunder all
along the shining beach.
Merrily we rolled along with the brightest of
suns glancing down through fleecy clouds, and
a balmy breeze, like the breath of a summer's
morn, fanning our glowing cheeks. Had it
been June instead of December, nothing would
have seemed out of place to me. So well had
Tom timed our start that the waters around the
base of the wide promontory he had pointed
out, seemed almost to part for our passage as
did those of the Red Sea for the fleeing hosts
from Egypt. The waves, that dashed high
upon the rocky headland when we first noticed
them, fell lower and lower as we approached,
until, without slackening our speed, we whirled
past the rocks for a hundred yards upon a
beach a rod wide, not dry, but hard and firm.
The great rollers seemed about to engulf us
as they came rushing on toward the rocks. As
they struck the sands they piled up in walls of
transparent green whose white crests swept up
the beach until they almost lapped our wheels.
I no longer wondered at the ecstasy with
which my chum had so often described this
beach to me. His whole nature was absorbed
in the grandeur about us. He scarcely spoke
as we rolled along except to point out some fresh
attraction that he feared might escape my no-
tice. Point after point we spun round, and
more than once we went straight through upon
the sand-paved floors of wave-built tunnels
where the hum of our wheels upon the hard
surface rang in our ears like the song of the
wind through a vessel's rigging. We began to
regret that our ride must be so short, for we had
already covered ten miles of the fifteen. We
slackened our pace to prolong the enjoyment,
and watched the sea-birds that flitted from crag
to crag over our heads, adding their discordant
cries to the roar of the surf upon the beach.
The storm is not over yet," suddenly broke
in Tom. The birds don't scream like that for
nothing. Did you ever hear such unearthly
screeching ?"
Never," said I. I 've noticed it for some
minutes." And then we pedaled on in silence,


until Tom, who was riding in advance, suddenly
leaped from his wheel.
Listen, Bob! he shouted excitedly. Don't
you hear that call ? That 's not a gull; it's a
human voice, or my ears don't know one."
I was by his side in a twinkling, and we both
strained our ears to catch the sound again. It
soon came, a long-drawn, agonizing note of ap-
peal that one could scarcely fail to recognize
as the signal of human distress. Bracing our
wheels together we clambered quickly up the
rocks to take a look seaward. It was fearful
climbing, but we scrambled up, never stopping
for breath until we reached a shelf that gave us
a view for miles out to sea. We strained our
eyes for a boat, a raft, or some signal of distress,
and our ears for a repetition of that call for
help. Not a speck could we see on all that
waste of tumbling billows, except far out, per-
haps a mile away, where a patch of scattered
rocks reared their heads above the waves that
boiled about them. No sound but that of the
birds and the breakers came to us for some
"It must have been seals bellowing, Tom,"
said I. I think I can see them on those
I can see something there, too," replied my
chum, but I never heard a seal bellow like that
before. Hark!" As he spoke the cry came
to us again; and--yes, there was no mistaking
it-we both saw an object straighten up on
one of the rocks and wave a coat, a shirt, or a
piece of tattered sail wildly above its head.
"There they are! There they are!" shouted
Tom, "one, two -half a dozen of them clinging
to that rock. There's been a wreck farther out,
and they 've drifted in and lodged against the
rocks." And like a flash he leaped from ledge
to ledge down toward the beach and our wheels.
Quick, man! quick !" he shouted back.
"The tug! the tug at the landing! That 's all
that can save them; the tide '11 be over them
in three hours!"
But that big point, Tom! I gasped as we
sprang awheel. "The tide will be up! We
can never make it!"
We 've got to make it, Bob! was all Tom
replied, and with the speed of the wind we flew
back toward the town.

We had spent a good two hours on the way
up, loitering here and there and even doubling
on our track at times to examine more closely
some object of interest that we had passed
too hurriedly. Now as we flew round the jut-
ting points we noticed all too plainly how the
tide had encroached upon the narrow beach.
One little tunnel that we traversed dry-shod
on the way up, we now shot through with our
wheels churning half a foot of water and throw-
ing streams of it up over our backs. Out on
the open beach again, we shook ourselves like
half-drowned spaniels and bent still lower over
the handles. Tom led the way, and at a pace
that taxed my utmost powers. Not a word was
spoken as we reeled off mile after mile. Then
a sharp turn brought us in sight of the big
headland. Tom started violently and checked
his speed for an instant. A sudden faintness
came over me, and my knees shook as I looked
ahead. The breakers were already dashing
against the rocks!
Breathlessly we watched them as we drew
near, until close enough to see that after each
big comber had spent its force against the rocks
and sunk back into the sea, it left a rod or more
of open beach around the base of the cliff.
Tom gave a glad shout, and calling to me to
" come on !" spurted faster than ever. As we
approached we noticed that every third or
fourth wave towered above the others, and
meant to time ourselves to take a flying start
around the cliff just after one of these big fel-
lows crashed against it.
"Keep close to me and be ready to spurt!"
sung out Tom. I think we can make it all
right just after that big one."
But we hadmisjudged the distance .or our
own speed. We were too soon, and having to
slow up, lost half our speed before the path was
clear. It would never do to start around that
wall at such a gait, and back we wheeled to
try for another start.
"There she comes! That 's the one for us! "
shouted Tom, and away we flew, only to whirl
and come back again, for this time we were too
late; the sand was bare before we reached the
point, and another wave was rushing along
ready to catch us before we could get half-way



"We 've got them timed now!" Tom called
out hopefully. "That 's the one, that big one
out there! Wait till she gets half-way in this
time,- look out, she 's coming! There she is!
Go!" And go we did, straight at a wall of
water breast-high and more.
Ah! We caught it just right, that time, the
waters sliding back and leaving us a narrow
strip of path not an instant before we were upon
it. I doubt if pedals ever flew as ours did for
the next ten seconds. But with all our speed
we were not quick enough. When half-way
round we saw a comber coming to head us
off. Faster and faster whizzed our wheels as
we saw it chasing us, but we were in for it;
there was no escape, and when it was almost
upon us Tom suddenly whirled to the right.
"Head on, Bob, quick! he shouted. "Take
her head on or she '11 swamp you! "
I quickly followed his example, and none too
soon did we turn, nor with any too much speed.
Great as our momentum was, it was barely
enough to stem the force that came to meet
it. It was like running up against a clay bank.
The wave struck us as high as the saddle, and
the shock nearly pitched us head foremost over
the handles. We had great faith in our stanch
and light wheels, but it was lucky that both
riders and bicycles were in racing trim. En-
cumbered by mud-guards and baggy trousers
we should have gone down, sure as fate. As it
was, our tires and the trim frames alone offered
enough resistance to have sent us crashing
against the rocks had the wave caught us on
the flank. A great flash of green and white, it
swept past us, and, righting our toppling wheels,
we turned and splashed on, with the undertow
rippling between our spokes. We were past the
point and on a wider beach before another wave
could reach us. From that to town our track
was high and dry. The cold bath cooled our
heated blood and freshened us for the race still

ahead. How we did whiz down that three-
mile stretch! The gulls seemed to take our
burst of speed as a challenge, and flapped
along in a great flock over our heads screaming
louder and shriller than ever, as if to "rattle"
us. I thought Tom's mad pace would pump
the last breath out of me, but I was bound to
stay with him as long as I could keep my seat.
The smooth sand seemed to glide swiftly from
under us and each rock and tree to come rush-
ing at us as if track instead of rider was scut-
tling along at such furious rate. Panting and
dizzy we rounded the last point.
"Hurrah! She 's got steam up!" screamed
Tom as we dashed into the little harbor and
saw the tug tossing at her moorings while the
black smoke poured from her funnel. Spring-
ing off our wheels, we made for the nearest boat
and, regardless of ownership or consent, shoved
off for the tug as fast as we could row, calling.
to a friend of Tom's to take care of our wheels
as we rowed away.
A few quick strokes and we were aboard. A
dozen words with the captain and the order to
Up anchor!" was quickly shouted and obeyed.
Five minutes later we were bounding from
roller to roller, the stout little craft under every
pound of steam her engine could raise. The
captain knew every rock along the coast, or we
should hardly have found the poor fellows,
for the rocks barely showed above water, and
the seven shivering mariners who clung for-
lornly to them as their only hope were drenched
by every wave.
Another hour, and we should have been too
late. But ropes and willing hands soon hauled
them aboard, and their hearty voices helped to
swell the cheers that greeted us next morning,
as Tom and I, sore and stiff from our yester-
day's exertions, pedaled down the little street
to spin over that fifteen miles of beach once




As Brownies gathered
to agree
About the States that
should not be
Omitted when they
took their way
A friendly call
on them to
.- -pay,
They did not
----- slight the Key-
stone State,
In laying plans, nor name it late.
Said one: "'T would hardly be fair play,
To say the least, for us to stray
Around great wonders to behold
And leave the home of Penn untold.
Its mines of coal that more and more
Reveal great nature's ample store,
Its wells of oil, that bubbling rise,
On which the world for light relies,
Have made it famous, not to speak
Of battle-fields that one should seek.
And monuments that mark the spot
Where heroes stood are wanting not,
But shine on hilltop, ridge, and glen,
Recalling deeds of bravest men.

The band was soon upon the
To see the sights the country
The bats were wheeling round
at eve,
Determined not a fly to
leave, .
When Brownies crossed
the river deep,
Whose waters seaward
proudly sweep,
Made famous by a
glorious deed

Most welcome in a time of need.
So many scenes spread to their view
As they advanced, they hardly knew
Where first to turn their feet so spry
Or where to throw a wondering eye.
Around the wells, as one might think,
That in the earth so deeply sink,
The Brownies stop-
ped to talk about
Their yield, and
study matters out,
Or climb upon the
frames of wood
That on all sides
around themstood.
Some fixture rising
in the air,
To form a roost
or strange affair,

Soon interests the
Brownies smart,
Who gladly show
their climbing
And here a chance
was offered all


Who cared to dizzy
points to crawl.
The Brownies sat on
topmost beams
To talk about their
future schemes,
And how the folk were
doubly blessed
Who in that State a
home possessed,
Where wealth was piled
above the ground
And stored below in
caves profound.
Around the tanks of
oil they played,
Or of the top a race-
track made;
Then at the coal-mines
they made bold
To enter where the
cars are rolled,
And a new world seems
to be run
With fair success with-
out a sun.
In deepest mines, where
each must bear
A lamp upon his head
with care
To light him on his
dark career,
The Brownies went
without a fear.

From shaft to shaft, from drill to drill,
Down deeper yet, and deeper still,
They groped along to find how far
Mankind had gone with pick and bar.
Said one: "We 've gone so deep, I vow,
We can't be far from China now,
And soon her busy sons may see


At work among the rice and tea.
Perhaps the knaves, that still are sly,
Are taking Uncle Sam's supply
Of coal'that nature stowed away
To serve him till the final day.
The State is large, as those found out
Who measured it with chains about,
And staked each county, town, and mile,
At risk of being scalped the while:
And Brownies found enough to keep
SThem on the move and on the peep,
S1 And then they gladly lingered late
Till forced to leave the Quaker State.
Too many wells, too many mines,
Are found within its boundary lines,
For them to honor each and all
With even an informal call,
Since other wonders strange to see
For some regard put in their plea.
The mountain-ranges piled on high,
As if all passage to defy;
The sparkling streams that leap between
The shelving rocks and foliage green;
The forests deep, where still the bear
In safety makes his winter lair-
All these attractions seemed to stand
And beckon to the Brownie band,
And urge them while they were
so nigh
To visit them ere passing by.
And when the band at length
was through
Their rambling round, far
more they knew
About the mines, the wells, and all
The rivers wide, and mountains tall,
The busy towns and quiet nooks,
Than they had learned by reading books.

(A story of a Texan girl.)


laughingly taken his sister
/ Martha as a partner in his
Texas saddle store. She made
a good partner although she
Swas only thirteen years old.
--There were other women on
the ranch (the saddle store was only an ad-
junct of the big cattle-ranch itself), but the
grandmother was very old, and the servant-girl
was Welsh and would not learn to speak more
English than was required in the daily routine
of housework.
Not far away was the town of Amarilla (pro-
nounced Ah-ma-ree-ah). There were plenty of
women and girls there, but Martha knew none
of them well except the preacher's daughter,
Scylla. Martha and Scylla were great friends.
They saw each other as often as Martha could
get time and permission to ride in to Amarilla.
Scylla could seldom visit the ranch, for she was
an invalid. When she had been a very little
girl, a horse had kicked her. She was ill for
many weeks, and after the doctor had told her
parents that she would live, he had added that
she might never have full use of her right side
again. It was partially paralyzed.
But Martha was seldom lonely. For in the
daytime there was always something to do
around the ranch or store. She had her pet
calf to attend to, for one thing. He was given
to her by a cow-boy who bought a saddle from
her brother one day, and who cried that evening
when Martha played "Home, Sweet Home"
for him on her guitar. The calf was in several
respects remarkable. In the first place, he was
almost black-an unusual thing among Texas
cattle. In the second place, he was not quite
black, for he had a white spot on his forehead
shaped almost exactly like Martha's guitar.
That was why -they called him Gitter." In
the third place, Martha had taught him several
tricks. He had learned to low three times
when he was thirsty, and twice when he was

hungry; he would stand on his hind legs and
paw the air with his front legs for a moment
when Martha cried, Up, Gitter!" and he
would lie down and roll over on the grass when
she commanded "Down, Gitter! She had a
cat that would climb up on her shoulder when-
ever he got the chance, and a clever dog that
liked the cat. She had two horses, also. One
of them was an ordinary "cow-pony," but the
other was a big black Spanish horse who seemed
to love Martha as well as she loved him. When
she was on his back he never varied his long,
swinging, graceful gallop by jumping or shying,
but if any one else rode him, he was apt to
make them hold fast when he went around
covers. His name was "Dan." Martha thought
almost as much of the cow-pony, though, as
she did of Dan, and called him "Texas," after
the great State she lived in.
Her brother, too, did many things to make
her happy. In the long winter evenings he
often read to her for hours, or taught her new
airs on the guitar, of which he was a master; and
sometimes, when summer came, they took long
rides off on the prairie together. These oc-
curred when there was a band of cow-boys
camped near by, and John generally combined
business with pleasure by talking with them
about cattle and saddles. But that did not de-
tract at all from Martha's enjoyment of the
rides. She always carried her guitar swung
over her shoulder by a strap when she went
out with her brother to see the cow-boys.
The little girl's life was a queer one, but then,
she was a queer little girl and among queer peo-
ple. For instance, there was Mister Jim," who
came up to the store every few weeks to lay in
supplies. Mister Jim was one of the men who
were hired to keep wild animals out of the
Caion. The Caion was a favorite place for
Amarilla's excursions and picnics, and was very
beautiful; but it communicated with other
cautions into which picnics could never pene-
trate, and in which there were wild beasts of


many kinds. To prevent these unpleasant visi-
tors from wandering where they were not
wanted, men were stationed at various places
to shoot them. Mister Jim was the one near-
est to Martha's home, and he was Martha's
stanch friend. He never went to the ranch
without some gift for her--the soft pelt of an
animal he had shot, the gay wings of a strange
bird, or some crystal or stone he had found in
his explorations of the Cation. Martha returned
his admiration. He lived in a cave, and that
interested her-she thought she might like to
try it herself some time. She considered his
clothes very grand and impressive. In the
Cation he wore a leather suit; but when he
visited the ranch he was always dressed in
black velvet trimmed with gold braid, and wore
a high, pointed hat wound with red ribbons
like those of the seldom-appearing Mexican
cow-boys, only much finer.
But the "loco men" were Martha's favorites.
There were three of them Big Billy, Little
Billy, and One-eyed Saylo. Why Saylo was
called "one-eyed" was a mystery, for he had
two of the very best eyes for spying the hated
loco-weed ever known in that region. Loco-
weed grows, when unmolested, to a height of
sixteen or eighteen inches, and its queer leaves
shine and sparkle in the sunlight like silver and
crystals. Its effects on horses or cattle that hap-
pen to eat it are worse than deadly. One good,
big meal of loco-weed will ruin an animal forever.
A locoed horse, once locoed, is locoed until
he dies. Apparently he may recover wholly,
but he is not a safe animal to ride, for at any
moment he may stagger and fall, or go sud-
denly mad. A locoed horse is almost certain
to show it when he becomes heated by rapid
traveling or hard work. The great danger from
locoed cattle is, that they will begin to tumble
around in the midst of a herd and frighten their
fellows into a stampede.
As it can work such ruin, in order to avoid
the danger of having their animals locoed, the
ranchmen, in those regions where the weed is
plentiful, hire men to search for it, cut it down,
and destroy it. Of these men who make their
living in searching for the dreaded loco-weed
and destroying it wherever found were Big
Billy, Little Billy, and One-eyed Saylo.

One summer night, John told Martha to get
her guitar, while he saddled Texas and his own
pony for a ride. In a few moments they were
galloping over the prairie on their way to a cow-
boy camp about three miles away. When they
reached it, they found all the five men, but one,
rolled up from top 4o toe in their tarpaulins, and
asleep on the prairie. The one who was awake
welcomed them in effusive cow-boy style, and
then with a "Wake up, you-uns! Yar 's John
Fredding an' 'is little woman!" kicked each
of his sleeping companions into consciousness
with his foot. They were all glad to see John
and Martha, for they knew them of old.
In the twinkling of an eye the smoldering
fire was livened into a cheery blaze, the visitors'
ponies were picketed, and the men were grouped
around Martha and the fire. For a little while
John talked business with them; but,before long,
one of the men arose and, deferentially taking
off his broad hat to Martha, asked her if she
would n't give them a "chune." The music of
her guitar was indescribably sweet, there in the
little oasis of light in the prairie's desert of dark-
ness, and for a time the men sat silently, with
their hands clasped about their knees, enjoying
it. Then she struck into a rollicking cow-boy
song, and they joined in shouting it out. It is a
favorite among the cow-boys of southern Texas,
and begins thus:

I 'd rather hear a rattler rattle,
I 'd rather do a Greaser battle,
I 'd rather buck stampeding cattle,
Than to
Than to fight
Than to fight the bloody In-ji-ans.

I 'd rather eat a pan of dope,
I 'd rather ride without a rope,
I 'd rather from this country lope,
Than to
Than to fight
Than to fight the bloody In-ji-ans.

After that came "I 'm Gwine Back to Dixie,"
and "'Way Down Upon the Suwanee River,"
and then John said it was time to start home
again. Loud were the protests of the cow-boys,
and when John and Martha went, the whole
party went with them except one man, who was


left to watch the cattle. They were "full of
sing," as one of them put it, and it was a jolly
ride back to the ranch. When it was finally
reached, the cow-boys gave them a "send-off"
that could have been heard a mile away. They
shouted and yelled like the wild "In-ji-ans" they
had sung about, and as they wheeled around to
gallop back to camp, they fired all the charges
in their revolvers into the air as a parting cour-
tesy. Then there was a mad scamper of horses'

the ranch; but when she did come there was
great rejoicing. After she. was comfortably
ensconced in her wheeled chair on the porch,
she held a mimic reception. John and Martha
did the honors, and every human being within
call was introduced to the little invalid. In
the store there were a dozen leather-decked
cow-boys, and Scylla felt quite like a queen as
each one scrambled up to her, and with his
broad sombrero in one hand took her tiny fin-


hoofs, the yells grew fainter, and the cow-boys
were gone.
When John went into the house he found
two letters which had been brought up by some
passing friend from Amarilla. One of them
was from an old schoolmate of his, who had
become a professor in a Northern college, ask-
ing for some loco-weed, to be added to the
college botanical collection. The other was
from Scylla's father, saying that if it would be
convenient he would bring his little daughter
out to the ranch in a few days for a long-prom-
.sed visit to Martha. This second letter sent
Martha to bed a very happy little girl.-
Several days passed before Scylla arrived at

gers in the other as he turned red and tried to
say something polite. Nor did her impromptu
court end with that. After the introductions
were over, all the visitors sat down on the
porch or the grass before it, while Martha
exhibited her pets to her friend. Gitter, the
calf, was put through all his tricks, the cat was
placed in Scylla's poor little arms, where he
purred contentedly, and the dog chased sticks
thrown by whoever could find any to throw.
After Gitter had been led away, Martha came
up from the stables with her two horses-
Texas and Dan. Big black Dan was inclined
to frisk a bit and jump about at the unusual
scene; but little Texas worked his way right


into Scylla's heart by marching steadily and
straight up to her, despite Martha's laugh-
ing pulls on the lariat looped about his neck.
With ears. pricked forward, he made friendly
overtures to the new-comer on the spot. He
poked his nose into her lap and rubbed it
against her hands and ate sugar from her
Oh, I wish I could ride him! said Scylla.
He never was so cordial before, not even
with me," said Martha.
Then she suddenly thought of something,
and after intrusting her horses to one of the
cow-boys, went and talked it over in whispers
with her brother, Scylla's father, and the doctor,
who had been discussing politics together on
one end of the porch. After this mysterious
conversation had lasted a little while, Martha
danced back to Scylla, so happy that she "just
had to hop."
Oh, Scylla! she exclaimed, "you can ride
him. Your papa says so and the doctor says
so and Brother says so. John is going to fix up
one of my saddles for you with an extra strap
to keep you from falling, and Texas likes you
so much he will be gentle and careful as he can
be, I know. And the doctor says he thinks it
will do you good, if John and I keep close by
you all the time, so there won't be any danger."
The following days at the ranch were very
pleasant ones for Martha and her visitor. In
the morning after the work was done-Martha
always did some of the light house duties-
they would watch with never-flagging interest
the great herds of cattle as they were driven on
their way for shipment from Amarilla, and gos-
sip as girls do. Sometimes the cattle passed
quite near to the house, but oftener they were
half a mile or more away on the prairie-some-
times so far that the great herds seemed to be
mere black blots moving over the dun brown
of the Texas grass.
Every afternoon the two girls went riding,
escorted either by John or one of the men em-
ployed about the ranch. John had fixed one
of Martha's saddles so that poor little Scylla
could not fall, and Texas seemed to bear his
tiny burden with more than ordinary care. At
first they rode very slowly, and for only a few
moments at a time; but Scylla gained strength

daily, and by the end of the second week had
improved so much that she could ride for an
hour without great fatigue, and Texas was occa-
sionally allowed to start his gentle gallop.
It was as they were returning from one of
these rides that Scylla's sharp eyes spied the
figure of a horseman rushing out to them from
the ranch. He waved his hat and yelled, firing
his revolver between whoops and generally
conducted himself like a madman. Martha
recognized him at once.
"It 's One-eyed Saylo," she said. He
always acts like that-he thinks it would n't
be showing proper respect to a lady unless he
wasted half a dozen cartridges and showed off
his horsemanship."
Saylo acknowledged his introduction to Scylla
with great ceremony, and then told John that
he had come to bring the loco-weed for the
college professor. By dint of much searching
and hard riding he had gathered a gunny-sack
full of it.
Then, as they rode slowly toward the ranch,
he told John how the cattle in the whole region
seemed to be getting panicky." All the cow.
boys he had met had had the same story to
tell. It was only by the most careful handling
that they were able to keep their herds from
"Ye see, Miss Scylly," he said, cattle is
mighty onplentiful in the matter o' common
sense. Say it 's in the middle o' th' night, fer
instance, an' a big herd o' ten er fifteen thou-
san' hez be'n bunched an' bedded away out on
th' flat lan's. They ain't a livin' thing except
coyotes, cow-boys, an' cattle within seeing er
hearing any way ye look. Then them cattle
begins to get oneasy. They ain't much sign ov
it first off- a critter gits up somew'ars in th' be-
middlest o' th' herd an' looks around' an' lows
oncet, an' lays down ag'in. Then another one
does th' same thing. Then the first one takes
another observation o' things, an' hollers out
ag'in. Another, an' another one goes through
the same similar antic, an' by an' by 'bout every
fourth critter in th' herd is a-standin' up, steppin'
from one foot to t' other, an' singin'. The cow-
boys knows what it all means-th' herd is a-git-
tin' scairt. The cow-boys rides around' an' around'
th' herd to git 'em ez close together ez possible,


an' croons to 'em to quiet 'em down. Mebbe
their efforts goes, an' mebbe they don't. P'r'aps
th' cattle '11 let up, and p'r'aps they won't. If
they won't, then th' cow-boys is prone to wish
thet they was away up in th' States som'ers, I
should say. If them critters stampedes, they
ain't no tellin' whar they '11 stop. Ev'ry cow-
boy in th' camp may be run over by 'em. They's
some chance of escape-mebbe they '11 be able
to git away by ridin' hard; mebbe the herd '11
stampede in th' other direction, an' mebbe a
man '11 save 'is bacon just by luck er nerve.
I 've heard stories about fellers that saved them-
selves by jumping' on th' backs o' one o' th' crit-
ters, an' takin' a pleasure-ride along with th'
stampede, an' Lasso Pete, o' th' Double-X ranch,
come out without a scratch once, by standing'
right in th' track o' th' cattle, wavin' 'is som-
brero, and singin' Good Night, Ladies,' like
mad. The herd divided an' never touched him.
'Most anything' 'd keep out o' th' way o' Lasso
Pete when he 's singin'. A cur'us thing about
cattle stampedes is thet they seem to be ketchin'.
Sometimes you '11 hear of a dozen stampedes in
a week, an' then ag'in they won't be none told
of. Jus' now they's a whole lot o' thet sort o'
thing a-goin' on. Ev'rybody says thet th' crit-
ters is nervous to a ridicerlous extent."
By this time the little cavalcade had reached
the ranch. After Scylla had been lifted from
the saddle and carried to her seat on the porch,
Martha, full of the irrepressible good spirits of a
healthy girl, had a long frolic with her big black
horse. She took his saddle off, and let him en-
joy the luxury of a long roll on the grass, and
then she made him do all his tricks. First he
shook hands with great dignity "just to show
that this was friendly fun," Martha said. Then
she replaced the saddle, clambered to its easy
seat, and put him through his paces. He walked,
slow and stately, with much self-conscious-
ness, as a real Spanish horse should; he trot-
ted, he loped, he paced, and went single-foot,
greatly to the admiration of the three spectators.
Martha kept her seat with perfect ease and
Two posts near the house Martha had turned
into the uprights of a jumping-hurdle with bars
which could be placed at various heights.
Over these bars that afternoon, Dan, with Mar-

tha sticking to his back like a burr, jumped
many times, surpassing, to the delight of both
girls, his previous best record.
John, in the mean time, was busy in the shop,
where One-eyed Saylo had followed him to
gossip with the workmen about the all-absorb-
ing topic of saddles and bridles. Martha had
finished her fun, led Dan away and picketed
him, and was sitting by Scylla's side talking
about that happy day when health and strength
should have come back to the preacher's little
daughter, when the men came out again. The
gunny-sack of loco-weed was lying at the side
of the porch, and both girls watched John and
Saylo with interest as they shook out and ex-
amined its contents.
So they all want some of this stuff to look
at an' study, up No'th, do they ? said Saylo,
and added: I reckon we-all would n't be so
overflowin' with oncontrollable grief ef they 'd
take all th' loco thar is in th' State o' Texas."
Just then the Welsh servant blew loud and
long on a great tin horn, and they all went in
to supper. Saylo and John had picketed their
ponies, Saylo intending to ride in to Amarilla
that night, and John having in view a visit to
the camp of cow-boys four or five miles away.
Martha had tethered Texas near the other
ponies, because he was such a sociable little
It was nearing sundown when supper was
over. One-eyed Saylo vaulted into his saddle
after elaborate good-bys and went off toward
Amarilla in a wild canter, and John prepared to
start off on his saddle mission to the cow-boys.
His pony and Texas stood with heads hanging
dejectedly down, close together, as far away
from the house as their long lariats would let
them go, when John, carrying on his arm a
new saddle that he wanted to try, went toward
Them. As he walked away from the house he
called cheerily: Come, Mattie,-want to go
along ?"
Oh, no; I '11 stay here with Scylla to-night,"
she answered.
"Why can't she go too ? it 's too nice an
evening to stay at home. I '11 ride as slow
as you like, and it is n't far."
Both girls were delighted at this.
"Is n't he good to poor little me!" Scylla



~,jrbd ~:~rc*
ku J :~;~*L1

''':' Cfl


exclaimed to Martha as John fixed her on
Texas's back.
Martha ran around, brought Dan, and in a
very few moments they were riding leisurely
toward the setting sun.

The evening was perfect. As the great,
clean-cut disk of the sun dropped slowly below
the far-off edge of the prairie, the breeze that
had been busy all day rustling the prairie-grass
died away, and the silence was so complete that
they all stopped involuntarily to listen to it."
They had ridden until they were three or four
miles from the ranch, when they paused again,
this time to hear the crooning of far-away cow-
boys. They were between two great herds of
cattle. One, on the left, was half a mile away;
and the moon, which now shed a great white
light over the prairie showed it only as a black
mass. Those cattle had been "bedded" for the
night-that is, two cow-boys had ridden around
and around them driving them closer together
so that they would be easy to watch, and much
less likely to be restless. The other herd was a
little nearer, and the cow-boys were bedding it

as the trio from the ranch approached. The
camp-fire flickered between the riders and the
herd, and its flaring light seemed to make the
cow-boys and cattle nearest it lurch back and
forward in and out of the gloom while their
changing shadows danced fantastically over the
prairie. Here the three riders paused again
to listen. Closer by, the cow-boys' crooning
would have sounded harsh and unmusical, but
at this distance it shaped itself into a plaintive,
minor melody that was very pleasing. For
many moments they waited and enjoyed it in
silence. Then suddenly a quick gust of wind
and a low, muttering rumble of thunder made
them turn quickly and look at the sky behind
A bank of dead black clouds was rising on
the eastern horizon.
John stopped, gazed at it ruefully for a mo-
ment, and said:
There 's a big thunder-storm coming; but
we can get home all right before it strikes us.
You girls ride slowly back. I '11 rush to the
camp and tell the boys to stop in in the morning.
I '11 overtake you before you 've gone far."


With that he was off at a brisk canter toward
the herd.
Martha and Scylla did as he told them. The
rising but still distant clouds, lighted on their
edges by the moon, added greatly to the beauty
of the night, and both the girls appreciated the
sight. They walked their horses and talked
girlish nonsense. John had promised to take
Martha to the North the next winter, and she
told Scylla some of the wonderful things she
had heard about the great cities and the curious
things to be seen up there.
Suddenly Scylla interrupted her with:
Martha, I believe there 's something the
matter with Texas-he 's trembling all over."
"Oh, I guess not," said Martha; "he 's just
tired. Texas has had a pretty hard day of it.
But yet, he does n't often get tired."

"There is something the matter with him, I
know," said Scylla.
"Stop a minute and take my reins; I '11 get
off and see what it is," said Martha. You 're
right. Texas is trembling like a leaf. Perhaps
we 'd better wait here for John."
There was an anxious little quaver in her
voice as she dismounted and, going in front of
Texas, took his head between her hands. There
was no longer any doubt that the horse was
sick, and very sick. His eyes closed sleepily,
and his head dropped low. Then he suddenly
began to sway and totter on his feet.
Oh, Martha, I 'm afraid! cried Scylla.
Martha was badly frightened, too, but she
acted instead of saying anything. She rushed
to Scylla's side and hastily unbuckled the straps
that held the weak little body in the saddle.


She rode up close to Scylla and put her hand
on Texas's neck. It was wet with sweat, al-
though he had hardly gone faster than a walk
since he had left the ranch.
And, sure enough, he was trembling slightly.

"Quick, jump into my arms!" she com-
manded as the last buckle fell jinglingly down-
ward and Texas gave another alarming sidewise
lurch. With more strength than she supposed
she had, she half lifted, half pulled Scylla out

of the saddle and eased her, almost fainting, to
the ground. It was none too soon, for in an
instant more Texas had fallen with a groan and
lay quiet on the prairie.
This lasted only for a few seconds; then
with an unsteady stagger the little horse scram-
bled to his feet. For another instant he stood
quiet; then he began to tremble again and
looked around toward the girls. But the
pony's eyes had changed; they were wild and
blood-shot. With a mad snort he started off
on a wild run into the gloom.
For a moment the girls were too surprised to
speak. Scylla was sobbing on the ground, and
Martha stood by her. She had the reins of
Dan's bridle in her hand, and gazed dum-
founded after the rapidly disappearing Texas.
Finally she turned to her companion:
"Oh, Scylla," she said, "I 'm so glad I got
you off his back! "
What do you think is the matter with
him?" Scylla asked.
"I can't imagine, unless-yes, that 's it-
he 's locoed! Oh, my poor little Texas! My
dear, gentle little pony! You ate that loco-
weed Saylo brought for the college professor !"
Now Martha was crying, too, for she knew
that her pony was lost to her.
"They-they left it lying by the porch," she
went on, "and-you ate it while we were at
supper. Oh, my little Texas!"
Martha had forgotten everything but her
grief, but soon she remembered that there was
a storm coming and that Scylla must be taken
home in some way. At first she tried to lift
her to Dan's high back, but she was not strong
enough. Then she thought of his education,
and commanded him to lie down. He was
nervous and excited and did not, at first, obey
her, but finally she coaxed him into getting
down on his knees. Then, with great pains
and trouble, she pulled and lifted Scylla into
the saddle. As Dan struggled to his feet again,
it was hard work to keep the little invalid from
falling, but it was done. Then Martha led him
slowly toward the ranch. The exciting events
that had just passed had made her nervous,
and for the first time in a long while she felt
Oh, I wish John would hurry and catch up

with us!" she exclaimed. "Please don't fall,
Scylla--hang on to the pommel tight."
Scylla, who had stopped crying, told Martha
not to worry, that she would not fall; and the
slow journey over the prairie continued silently
for a minute or two. Every once in a while
Martha turned back and looked toward the
flickering camp-fire of the cow-boys. An ex-
clamation of surprise was drawn from her when
she failed to see it shining in the distance, and
she stopped. Then, faintly, she heard shouts
and the thumping of racing hoofs on the prairie.
"John is coming at last," she said.
But then she realized that more than one
animal's hoofs were drumming desperately on
the turf. While she stood wondering if some
of the cow-boys were "coming home with John,
she heard the hoof-beats merge into a steady
roar. Even the shouts of the men which
she had just heard were drowned in this dull,
threatening rumble. For just an instant she
thought it was thunder, and then her quick
reasoning told her the truth.
The herd had stampeded!
That she and Scylla were directly in its path
she was certain, for the camp-fire had, a moment
before, been between them and the herd and
was now invisible. It had either been trampled
out or was hidden by the advancing mass of
Martha well knew what it meant to be in the
path of a stampede; but, strangely enough, all
her fear left her. She was puzzled, that was all.
Had she been alone, she could easily have
escaped by jumping on Dan's back and riding
hard. Dan could have distanced the cattle,
even whert they were stampeding. But now
she had helpless Scylla to take care of.
The advancing thunder-clouds had wholly
hidden the moon and put the prairie in inky
darkness. At first Martha thought of starting
Dan away with Scylla and trusting to Provi-
dence to keep the little invalid on his back,
.while she remained to face the danger alone;
then she thought of trying to ride with her.
But she knew Scylla could not possibly keep
her place in the saddle of the horse while he
ran, even if she herself should mount him too
and try to hold Scylla on.
She stepped back to Scylla's side. There




was a deathly doubt in her heart as to whether
she was doing the right thing; but she had
made a desperate resolve. Scylla had heard
the thunder of the approaching herd too, and
was too frightened to speak. Martha held her
arms up toward her just as the first flash of
lightning came.
Come, Scylla," she said, slide off into my
arms. The herd has stampeded and is coming
toward us, but I will try to save us both."
Without a word Scylla did as she was told,
and in a few seconds was half kneeling, half
lying on the ground.
Then Martha struck Dan as hard as she
could with her flat hand.
Hey up, Dan! said she, run! run! You
need n't stay here, too!"
The horse galloped off into the darkness.
Just then another lightning-flash came and
showed a cow-boy leaning far over the neck of
his pony, riding for his life. He passed only a
dozen yards from them, but did not see them.
Behind him Martha could dimly see two or
three other riders coming toward them at des-
perate speed, while still beyond she caught a
glimpse of the tossing horns and lurching heads
of the cattle.
Without a moment for thought, and as coolly
as if she had nothing in the world to fear, she
bent over trembling Scylla, unfastened the
waistband of her dress-skirt and pulled it deftly
from under her. Then she quickly removed
her own and took one of the bright-colored
garments in each hand.
Just then the storm broke furiously. The
night was suddenly lighted by lightning-flashes
that followed one another so closely they seemed
to make one long, lasting flare. The cow-boys
had all passed, and Martha saw that the herd
was scarcely two hundred yards away.
She stepped directly in front of Scylla's pros-
trate form and raised the skirts.
Scream, Scylla, scream! she cried.
Then, while the driving rain fell in torrents,
and the lightning made the prairie as light as
day, she stood straight up and waved those
skirts wildly about her head, and shouted at the
top of her voide.
She was dimly conscious that her shouts
shaped themselves into a prayer that her brother

was safe, and that the herd might divide and
pass them. Her face was as pale as paper.
Her long hair was tossed about by the wind,
and by her own violent motions.
The foremost of the cattle was only a hun-
dred yards away now. She could see the light-
ning shining on his horns and in his red, rolling
eyes. He was coming straight toward her.
Louder she shouted and more wildly she swung
the skirts. Would he crush her, or would he
turn aside? She felt an almost overpowering
impulse to turn and run away, but that would
mean certain death. Her only hope was to
keep her position firmly, and to swing her skirts
and scream. If the first steer swerved and
passed her, his followers might do so too.
He seemed of mammoth proportions as he
lurched toward her. His head was lowered,
and his great hoofs pounded the ground like
trip-hammers. Closer! Closer! He was not
twenty feet away. His big, crazy eyes seemed
to look straight into hers. Closer! Closer -
Then he changed his course a trifle. In an in-
stant he had passed her like a great fury.
Others were only a few feet behind him, and
back of them was the compact mass of the
herd. She screamed louder and redoubled her
waving. The thunder in the heavens, and the
thunder of the hoofs, drowned her voice so that
she could not even heai it herself. A dozen
cattle passed her. Fifty cattle passed her. She
was in the midst of the herd which seemed to
make a solid, living wall on each side of her.
The earth trembled beneath the hammering of
the hoofs. Her throat seemed ready to burst,
and she was certain that no sound came from
her lips. It seemed a long time since that first
one had plunged toward her, but still the mad-
dened beasts advanced with lowered heads and
lunging bodies. They did not seem to turn
aside, and each instant she expected to be
struck down and trampled under their feet.
She could not even try to scream any longer,
but still she waved the skirts.
At last, slowly, she saw that the herd was
thinning. Short gaps began to appear between
the animals. She knew that the herd had
nearly passed. Then the living walls on each
side melted away behind her, and only strag-
glers were left. Then these, too, were gone.


The stampeding herd had passed her, and she
was still alive.
She turned dizzily toward Scylla.
The little invalid the cripple was stand-
ing straight up, close behind her. For a second
Martha doubted her eyes. The storm still
raged, and she thought it was a. vagary of the
lightning. She held her hands out, though, and
convinced herself that it was true. Scylla was
standing on her feet, for the first time in many
years. The two girls threw their arms around
each other, and sank to their knees on the
prairie. As they said a prayer of thanks toge-
ther, the uneven glare of the lightning, which
had kept up almost uninterruptedly ever since a
few seconds before the cattle reached them, died
away. One or two feeble flashes followed, and
then the storm had passed.
Martha took Scylla's face between her hands
and kissed her. Then she said:
"Was n't it awful ? "
"Oh, Martha," Scylla answered, I thought
every second that we 'd be killed, but there you
stood as brave as a lion, and waved those
dresses right in the faces of the cattle. You
saved both our lives. I lay here on the
ground for a minute after you took my skirt,
and then I got up."
"You got up, Scylla! How could you, all
alone ? "
I don't know, Martha, but I felt as if I must.
I tried to rise once, and fell back. Then the
cattle came and I tried again, and all the weak-
ness seemed to be gone, and I stood right up
behind you and stayed there while the herd went
by. I don't feel as I used to I feel as if the
paralysis had all gone. See, I can get up
again,- don't help me,- all alone."
And, sure enough, Scylla scrambled to her
feet. She stood a little unsteadily on them, but
she stood. They were so glad it was true that
they did not try to understand it.
After Scylla's new-found strength had been
rejoiced over for a moment, they began to won-
der how they could get home. They knew
that they could not walk Martha was terribly

tired, and Scylla, even if she could stand up,
was not equal to the long tramp back to the
ranch, of course. They were dripping wet.
The elation that followed their escape, and the
discovery of Scylla's great good fortune, was
followed by a nervous breakdown on the part
of both girls, and they cuddled in each other's
arms on the wet grass, sobbing and frightened,
to wait for morning to come.
Hardly half an hour had passed before they
heard horses. Martha stood up and saw the
shadowy form of a rider away off to the right.
She tried to scream, but her overstrained voice
was hoarse and husky. Scylla called out as well
as she could, but the horsemen rode on. By and
by they changed their course, however, and
came near enough for the girls to make their
presence known.
As the horses approached, Martha recognized
in the foremost one the big black form of Dan.
Her brother John was on his back, and with
him were men from the ranch.
* There were tears in the eyes of the big men
as they lifted the girls in their arms, and started
home. They had not expected to find them
Before they went to sleep, the thrilling story
of Martha's bravery had been fully told, and to
it had been added the news of Scylla's strange
The next day the doctor was called in to
see about it. He gravely shook his head, and
said it was strange, but that such things had
happened before. The great mental excitement
of the stampede had wrought what seemed a
Her recovery after that was rapid. When
John and Martha went North the next winter,
Scylla went with them, and was able to walk
about almost as easily as Martha herself.
A few days after the stampede, the bruised
body of poor Texas was found where he had
been trampled to death by the herd. What was
left of the loco-weed that had wrought his ruin
was burned, and the Northern college professor
is still without his specimens.



AN Enterprising Boy,
who was traveling for
his health and general
information in upper
India, bought a great
horn spoon at a bazaar.
The bowl of the spoon
was larger than the boy's
hat, and the handle was
of proportionate length.
It was altogether too
large for any practical
purpose, but the Enter-
prising Boy thought it
a valuable curio.
A fakir, who encoun-
tered the boy as he rode
on a large camel, with
the great horn spoon
held over his shoulder,
bowed almost to the
earth before him; and
a procession of chelas
in yellow robes, who.
came out of a temple
by the wayside, fell flat
upon their faces, while
the old gooroo, or
teacher, at their head
began an oration in the
sacred language, which
not even they who
speak it can under-
"What is this all
about? Are you play-
ing a game of some
.sort ?" asked the En-
---- terprising Boy.
"Nay, it is no game,
but a very serious
VOL. XXII..-9- o. 65


gooroo. "Oh, favored youth," he continued,
weeping, "dost thou indeed bring the sacred
relic back to its resting-place in our temple?
Seven weeks have passed, seven times seven
weary days and sleepless nights, since the great
horn spoon, which once hung in the temple, was
borne in our sacred procession. Alas the hill
tribes fell upon us, and did smite us and spoil

hastily. "I don't care for another body; the
one I have at present suits me pretty well. I
might find one that did n't fit me, you see; my
friends would n't know me in it; and I might
get so mixed up I would n't know myself.
But- you understand magic ? "
I have studied it," replied the old gooroo.
"Teach me magic."


us, and bear away the great horn spoon, which
our prayers or spells availed not to restore.
Now behold! it hath returned; therefore we
"Hold on! cried the Enterprising Boy. "I
bought this great horn spoon, and paid for it,
too, in hard cash."
Do not think too meanly of our power to
recompense thee," answered the old gooroo.
" Verily thou shalt not suffer loss. What wilt
thou? Shall we take thy soul from out thy
body that it may live in such another as seem-
eth good to thee ?"
"Thanks; no," replied the Enterprising Boy,

Teach thee magic! cried the old gooroo,
in consternation. "Teach thee magic? I am
bound by an obligation taken at the altar to
grant the request of the restorer of the sacred
relic. But to teach such as thou hidden know-
ledge would be to place in the hands of an
infant a poisoned blade or a flaming firebrand."
If you are bound to grant my request, I am
nA less bound to have you do so," persisted the
Enterprising Boy. I 'd rather be a powerful
magician than to be President of the United
Let me reflect," said the old gooroo. "Yea,
there is a way. Alight, 0 fortunate youth, for


thou alone must bear the holy relic across the become a prestidigitator, or, as it is called in
sacred temple's threshold." Tylertown, "kunjurer." He remembered the
The Enterprising Boy carried the great horn little tricks in legerdemain, with handkerchiefs,
spoon, as directed, into the temple. He was marbles, and cards, that had excited his special
followed by the old gooroo, while the chelas, who admiration. What would Berry say to the
waited without, were told to have patience wonders that a real magician can perform?
because their gooroo would return to them in But -what if, after all, the old gooroo had
a few moments. deceived him ? What if, after all, he had been
Before an image of ivory, carved in the primi- cheated out of his valuable curio by dishonest
tive style that prevails in the sacred art of India trickery ? Why not test the matter at once ?
and elsewhere, was a gilded rack, and upon this, More than anything else that he could think of,
as instructed by the old gooroo, the Enterprising at that particular moment, he wished to see
Boy placed the great horn spoon. Immediately and astonish his old friends and companions,
the gooroo lifted up his voice, as did the chelas and, above all, Tom Berry. He determined to
outside, and intoned words of thanksgiving, try the virtue of a phrase or two.
On the completion of this ceremony, the old He stretched out his staff of power in the
gooroo, from a curiously shaped vessel of green mafner prescribed, and pronounced the most
jade, near at hand, filled the bowl of the spoon potent and rapid-working transportation spell
with what appeared to be pure water, among those taught him. He was, however,
The student of sorcery will find his appre- not a little astonished and even dismayed at the
hension quickened and his imagination greatly effect of his words. The light of the sun sud-
stimulated by dipping his face into the bowl denly disappeared; a thick blackness of storm
of the great horn spoon," said the old gooroo. and cloud and night surrounded him; an icy
"Do this, and thou canst acquire magic power wind replaced the warm and languid breezes
by means of magic phrases and magic circles." that had but a moment before fanned his brow;
The Enterprising Boy forthwith obeyed his and a spectral form of gigantic size towered
preceptor, who thereafter gave him a long les- above him, while others, more vague or less
son in magic, every word of which, thanks to human in shape, but clothed, like the larger one,
the great horn spoon, he remembered, in ghastly white, closed about him on every side.
The gooroo, in taking leave of him, presented A door opened in some sort of a building
him with the wonder-working, serpent-wound, near at hand, and a brilliant light, falling upon
seven-knotted staff of potency. surrounding objects, revealed the presence of
"The scepter of a monarch," said the old two persons busily engaged about the great
gooroo, "is an emblem of his power; but this is ghostlike figure that had appeared to him.
the instrument of thine. Without it thy charms He saw that they were boys, and, little realiz-
and spells are idle words, devoid of meaning or ing where he was or who they were, he spoke
efficiency. Guard it carefully, for, deprived of to them in the language he had learned in
it, thou art defenseless. Two jewels will I be- India.
stow upon thee: The best part of knowledge As they caught sight of him, in the light of the
is to know how best to use it,' and 'A long life- open door, they dropped the shovels they had
time of practice, of patience, and of discipline are been using, and stood with scared faces turned
insufficient to exhaust the fullness of that which toward him, trembling in their tracks. One of
a moment may teach thee.'" the faces was black and the other white, and
Mounting his large camel, the Enterprising the second he recognized as that of his former
Boy proceeded on his way, his thoughts and school-fellow, Tom Berry. Immediately a com-
imagination busy with the extraordinary adven- prehension of his surroundings flashed upon
ture. He thought, too, of his far-away home him. He had, in an instant of time, been
in America, across half the world, in Tylertown, taken from upper India and set down in the
Ohio. He remembered a school-fellow named presence of Tom Berry. He had not remem-
Tom Berry, the ambition of whose life it was to bered that the difference in time on opposite


sides of the world makes it night in America snow-covered fence-posts, pump, and well-curb
while it is yet broad daylight in India, or taken. about him, he saw and recognized the spectral
attendants upon the gigantic figure,
which he now perceived was no-
thing more than a snow image.
For a single moment the two lads
stared at the Enterprising Boy.
Then one of them, the negro, re-
covering the use of his feet, rushed
toward the lighted door, where a
woman appeared shading her eyes
with her hand and peering into the
darkness outside.
Don't be scared, Tom," said the
Enterprising Boy, addressing the lad
who had remained near him. I 'm
just a magician."
"For the land's sake!" said Tom.
"Mother!" he called out. He
says he 's a kunjurer."
He has frightened Casper nearly
to death, and Casper has frightened
me," cried Mrs. Berry from the
door. "What does he want ?"
"I want to be allowed inside
your house, Mrs. Berry, to -warm
myself at your fire for a short time.
I 'm nearly frozen," replied the
Enterprising Boy, speaking for him-
"Will you come a little nearer
and let me see you?" asked Mrs.
Berry. "What is it you are riding
upon ? Surely it cannot be a camel ?
And will you tell me what it is you
have in your hand?"
It is-well, it 's a staff," replied
the Enterprising Boy.
"But what is that wound around
it? "
Only a serpent, ma'am; but it
will not do any harm."
Mrs. Berry shuddered. "Not do
any harm, indeed! I would n'i
have one of the things near me for
"THE OLD GOOROO FILLED THE BOWL OF THE SPOON." gold-mine. Ugh! Takeitaway!"
into consideration the difference in climate in "But, Mrs. Berry," remonstrated the Enter
exchanging the sultry heat of Hindustan for prising Boy, "'t would n't do to part with m
the midwinter of northern Ohio. serpent-wound staff for a single instant."
The ground, he saw, was white; and in the "Then stay out," Mrs. Berry retorted.



The door closed with a bang; the Enter-
prising Boy was left out in the cold. And very
cold he found it, too. His teeth chattered, he
shivered violently. Dressed in the lightest of
costumes, suited only to a tropical climate, he
began to suffer severely.
Tom Berry, who also remained outside, sym-
pathized with him. "I 'm sorry," he said.
"Mother never could abide snakes. No woman
can. Where did you come from, so sudden-
like, anyway?"
"I was in India a few moments ago. I be-
lieve I '11 go back in a hurry," replied the En-
terprising Boy. "I am actually freezing to
death. But no," he added, after a moment's
hesitation, I won't give up so easily. I '11 get
rid of my camel,-it will take but an instant of
time to have him safe in his quarters in India,-
and then I will as quickly transform these light
garments to arctic furs, and-"
"And build a fire out o' that pile of snow-
balls," supplemented Tom Berry, in derision.
Not a bad idea," said the Enterprising Boy.
The incredulity of Tom Berry changed to
amazement when the camel vanished from sight
and, in place of the lightly clad rider, a boy
dressed like the Eskimos stood before him. But
when that boy waved the staff above a pile of
snowballs and they burst into a vivid flame, he
could no longer believe his own eyes.
The Enterprising Boy called Tom to his side,

made him look in his face and recognize it as
that of the companion who had been absent for
years in India, and also confided to him the ad-
venture that had gained him the power he pos-
At this moment a party of boys, on their way,
so Tom informed his companion, to the show in
the village, noticed the snow image that Tom
and Casper, the colored lad, had set up, as it
stood revealed in the light of the unearthly fire
that fed upon snow, and with a great shout
straightway began to pelt it with snowballs and
whatever else came conveniently to hand. Some
of the missiles flew unpleasantly near the two
boys in the garden, and one, fortunately of soft
snow, flattened itself upon the Enterprising. Boy's
left ear.
"That 's a game with two sides to it," said
the Enterprising Boy. Would you like to see
a bit of sport that will beat anything you ever
heard of? he added, addressing his compan-
ion. He extended his wand as he spoke, with-
out waiting to be answered, and with proper
motions pronounced a weird and magic spell.
At the same moment the attacking party saw
the great mass of snow constituting the image
take upon itself life and motion. The head
swayed from side to side, the clumsy arms ex-
tended themselves, and the whole misshapen
figure arose and stood unsteadily upon its shape-
less feet. Nor was this all: it began immediately


to make and hurl snowballs, with astonishing
swiftness and accuracy, at its late assailants,
who, awakening from a momentary stupor of
amazement at seeing it move, turned and fled
at the top of their speed, their merry shouts
changed to shrieks of horror and dismay. Vault-
ing over the garden fence as though it wore
seven-league boots, the snow giant pursued and
sent after them a constant succession of snow-
balls as they ran, until pursuer and pursued dis-
appeared around a bend in the road.
It beats the Dutch," said Tom Berry. I
surely can't deny that; I may even say it 's git-
tin' to be a little too exciting' to be altogether
pleasant. I '11 even allow that kunjurer down
to the show in the town hall, calling' himself
the marvelous, unapproachable, wonder-workin'
pres-it-dig-a-tater, can't do very much better 'n
Can't do much better? shouted the Enter-
prising Boy. "You show how grossly ignorant
you are, Tom Berry, to say a thing like that.
' Can't do much better,' indeed! Why, that
fellow can no more equal me than a snail can
catch up with a streak of greased lightning.
You can't find the tricks I do in any book of
parlor magic. We will go to the show, Tom,
and give Tylertown a chance to see some real
magic for once in their lives."
Yes," said Tom; I never heard tell of that
kind before, let alone seeing it. But I have n't
any ticket, you see; and Mother-"
"We don't need tickets," replied the Enter-
prising Boy. Our first trick will be to get there
without tickets, and I fancy such other tricks as
I take a notion to perform will be worth the
price of admission."
The next moment Tom Berry was bewildered
to find himself standing by the side of the En-
terprising Boy in the town hall, where a numer-
ous audience of the village people had assem-
bled to witness the performance of the so-called
celebrated prestidigitator, Signor Rinaldo. The
entertainment was, perhaps, half finished. The
Signor had a silk hat in his hand, from which
he had just taken a cannon-ball that rolled
noisily across the stage amid murmurs of ap-
plause from the spectators, who had seen the
hat, to all appearances, empty but a moment
before. The interest of the audience was at its

height when the Signor, in the broken English
which he always affected professionally (though
he was a native of England, where he had been
brought up and learned his business), promised
to perform an entirely new trick, such as none
present had ever beheld or even heard of. He
had really intended to amuse the townspeople
with some slight variation on a well-knowr
sleight-of-hand puzzle; but when he invited
any young gentleman in the house to step u]
beside him on the platform and hold the hat
the Enterprising Boy saw his opportunity and
at once accepted the invitation. The professor
then announced his grand Easter trick.
"You all zee zat I put in zee hat vat zee
young gentlement is so good to hold, von aig."
He thrust his hand into a receptacle placed
for that purpose on a table near him, and drew
forth, to his own astonishment, an egg of mon-
strous size-an ostrich-egg.
Where did such an egg as this come from?"
muttered Signor Rinaldo. Is some one trying
to play tricks upon me ? What shall I do ? "
At all events, he knew he must not show em-
barrassment or appear disconcerted; and so, re-
gaining at once his composure and presence of
mind, he pretended to, and to all appearances
did, force the great egg into the hat.
"Zis aig," he said, smiling and bowing to the
audience,-" zis aig is ver' large, as it ees a new
invention. It hold a whole brood of lit' cheekens.
I 'aive but to make of zee hat an incubator. I
pour zome spireet wine ovair zee dish. I set eet
on fire,--so. I hold ovair eet zee hat to warm
zee aig, and behold!-I hatch a whole brood
of lit' cheeks! "
As he spoke he took the hat from the Enter-
prising Boy, held it for a moment over the dish,
and drew forth from it, instead of the chickens
he expected, a newly hatched young ostrich.
Signor Rinaldo found it hard to hide his con-
fusion and perplexity from the audience, who,
after he had produced no less than a dozen
young ostriches from the hat, began to applaud
vociferously. But if the townspeople were sur-
prised and delighted at first, their wonder grew
to speechless amazement, only surpassed by that
of the professor of magic himself, to see the
young ostriches grow visibly before their eyes
until they became full-grown birds that imme-


diately formed in line, went through complicated
military evolutions, marched about in perfect
order, as far as the limited space afforded by
the stage allowed, danced a regular dance, and
then, in order, one after the other, disappeared
bodily into the hat, out of which, as the Enter-
prising Boy tilted it gently over upon the floor of
the platform, rolled the great white egg unbroken.
Signor Rinaldo drew near the Enterprising
Boy. "Is this your work ? he whispered.
It is," replied the Enterprising Boy.
"What will you take to help me? We will
coin money if we join hands," added the pro-
fessor of magic.
As for coining money," said the Enterpris-
ing Boy, I will show you presently how easily
that is done. Go on with your part; I will
attend to mine."
The trick next on the program was an old
one. It consists in filling a hat with coins, tak-
ing them from the sleeves of the persons present,
and even in appearance catching them from the
air. The professor was in so bewildered a state
of mind that he could scarcely present the trick,
although it is one of the easiest and simplest in
the list of ordinary performers. The Enter-'
prising Boy did not wait for him to finish, but
interrupted his performance without ceremony.
Now," he cried in a loud voice, "the pro-
fessor has proved that money can be had any-
where, when we know how to look for it. There
is enough money in the air contained in the
hall to make us all wealthy. This I will prove
by causing it to rain gold."
He held aloft his serpent-staff. Immediately
golden coins of all denominations-dollars, half-
eagles, eagles, and double-eagles -began to
float gently down from the ceiling as lightly,
notwithstanding their weight, as flakes of snow.
At first the townspeople laughed and cheered,
but soon a tumult broke forth and a scene of
indescribable confusion ensued. A sudden mad-
ness seized the good folks of Tylertown. Not
content with scrambling for the coins,-the
supply of which was sufficient to burden them
all with more than they could carry away,-
they struggled with one another for them.
Tom Berry, pale and trembling, stood by the
side of the Enterprising Boy, who shouted with

"See the professor," he cried, pointing him
out to his companion. He has found that big
carpet-bag somewhere, and is sprawling at full
length on the floor raking money into it with
his hat."
"For pity's sake, don't let this thing go on
any longer! said Tom Berry. Some of those
roughest scramblers will kill each other! "
"All right, Tom," replied his companion.
"But did you ever see anything so funny?
Never mind; I '11 stop them."
SThe shower of gold ceased as suddenly as
it had begun, and every one of the gold pieces
that had fallen instantly disappeared. The
audience, however, did not appreciate this un-
satisfactory ending of the illusion.
The doors of the hall were at this moment
thrown open, and an angry glare of red light
shot in, and the sound of all the church and fac-
tory bells in the village, that had been for some
time ringing violently, now first succeeded in
arousing the attention of the assembled villagers,
while hoarse cries of Fire! fire! imperatively
summoned them all into the street. The En-
terprising Boy and his friend, Tom Berry, fol-
lowed the audience out of doors. The heavens
in the direction of Tom Berry's home were all
aflame with the light of a great conflagration.
The whole of the village, in that direction,
seemed burning. A party of men, with rifles in
their hands, stood upon the corner of the street.
"What 's the matter? cried Tom.
I can't tell you what is the matter," said
one of them in answer to Tom Berry's anxious
and eager inquiry. "'Pears like there war n't no
way of answerin' that question. Houses, barns,
stables, trees, are burnin'. The river 's afire,
I 'm told. No, lad; I 'm not jokin'. I ain't
seen it myself, but I Zev seen the snow every-
whar blazin' away as if kerosene had been
poured on it. They say it 's some terrible new
invention from abroad,-a kind of wild-fire
that '1l ketch anything and bur even water,-
and that the man we 're after started the whole
What is he like ? stammered the Enterpris-
ing Boy, feeling his heart grow cold within him,
for he knew who kindled that fire.
I don't rightly know what kind of a monster
he is," said the man, slowly. "He may be a



Russian--I never see one. He 's as high as
Golia'h, and his war-paint is white. I don't
believe he is human. He 's been shot through
the vitals a dozen times at least, but he does n't
seem to mind it. He 's rampagin' somewhere
down near the old tavern now. The men left
me to stand guard here while they took after
him. He 's whacked every boy's head and
every winder in town with snowballs, and--"
Here the speaker is interrupted by the sud-
den appearance of a party of men, and a crowd
of angry faces surround the boys.
"There he is! shouted a rough voice. Mrs.
Berry said he carried some kind of a snake tied to
a stick. He 's at the bottom of all our trouble."
"Yes. Casper, Mrs. Berry's colored boy,
says this one started the fire, and came with
the big fellow. He sEw him from the front
winder," said another voice.
The two lads were seized and securely bound
with halters, and the Enterprising Boy saw the
origin and source of all his power, for good or
evil magic, the seven-knotted, serpent-wound
staff of potency, dashed to the ground, tram-
pled on, and destroyed before his eyes.

It was absolutely useless to remonstrate,
argue, or attempt to explain matters. Every
effort of the kind he made only added fuel to
the anger of his captors. He was in a state of
utter despair. Rudely struck and thrust about
and dragged over the rough street by the furi-
ous villagers, he yet said nothing; for the treat-
ment he received or the fate that threatened him
was as nothing in comparison to the sense of
the overwhelming evil he had loosed upon the
whole world to destroy it. The fire he had so
thoughtlessly kindled, igniting the river, would
soon be carried to the ocean. All living things
would perish, and the many-peopled earth would
first be wrapped in a garment of flame and
then be left ruined and desolate,-a mass of
barren and lifeless cinders, to revolve through
useless nights and days, without purpose or
progress, an eternal monument to his incredible
folly and thoughtlessness. It would be impos-
sible to describe the bitterness of his regret at
having forced from the reluctant Indian priest
his fatal gift of power.
How clearly he now saw and understood the
sentences the gooroo had recited when he was



about to take leave of him! They seemed,
indeed, written on the lurid sky in letters of fire.
How thoroughly and sincerely he now believed
that more than human wisdom and intelligence
are required to use with safety, and infallibly
direct to good and beneficent results, the power
he had played with !

"Thou mightest easily have held thy breath
a little longer, my son," said the old gooroo,

that it has taken so much time and space to
relate-had occurred in a measure of duration
so short as to have no name! Yet all that
had seemed to occur, though but an unreal
fancy, a mere dream, was without doubt a pic-
ture-a true reflection-of what might have
been if he had in reality possessed the power
he seemed to exercise. He shuddered to think
of it, and devoutly congratulated himself that
he was not in reality an adept in sorcery.


gently, as the Enterprising Boy lifted his face
from the basin formed by the bowl of the great
horn spoon, and gazed about him, utterly con-
founded to find himself back in India, in the
wayside temple in the presence of the gooroo.
"But a few brief moments have passed since
thou didst dip thy face in the fluid. Couldst
thou not enjoy thy gift for more than that
brief space ?" asked the old man, smiling.
The Enterprising Boy could no longer doubt
his senses. All that he had passed through-

"Dost thou now wish to pursue the studies
in magic?" asked the gooroo.
"All the magic I care, for I found in the
great horn spoon. If its delusions are so un-
pleasant, I don't think I care for its realities,"
said the Enterprising Boy.
Magic is the science of delusions," said the
old gooroo. It hath nothing to do with reali-
ties. Yet thou goest not empty away, for trea-
sures of wisdom are worth more than treasures
of gold- or of magic."



THE mention of golf at once brings to the
mind of the traveler suggestions of fine cool
Scotch weather, strong breezes blowing in from
the sea, broad reaches of sandy dunes by the
shore, the course called links, and an excited
company of men and boys eagerly watching the
haps and mishaps of a small white ball.
Golf naturally suggests Scotland, because,
though its early home may have been in Hol-
land, and though there are numerous links to
be found in other parts of Great Britain, as well
as on the Continent, and even in America, yet
for a true, enthusiastic, whole-hearted, all-alive
golf-player, one must go first to the Land o'
The game of golf has an important advan-
tage over almost every other out-of-door game
that can be mentioned. It does not demand
the violent muscular exertion of base-ball or
foot-ball; neither does it, like these games, in-
volve danger to life or limb, unless you find a
very stupid golfer. It has a far wider field of
interest than tennis or croquet, and can be
played with equal pleasure, if not with equal
skill, by young, middle-aged, and old men.
While it is not especially adapted for a ladies'
game, it need not exclude them. The routine
of the game is easily learned, and unless one is
reckless in the use of ball and clubs, it need not
be an expensive game.
Briefly stated, the game of golf consists in
driving a small gutta-percha ball around a
course provided with a number of holes, gener-
ally eighteen, from one hundred to five hun-
dred yards apart, by means of variously shaped
clubs. However tame this statement may
seem, the real game is brimming over with life
and jollity and strong excitement.
The balls used in ancient days were made of
leather, and stuffed with feathers until they were
as hard as stone; but the golfing-ball in use
to-day is of gutta-percha, painted white so that

it may be seen easily, with a corrugated surface,
and its weight varies from one and three fourths
to two ounces.
At the bidding of the golfer, this little ball,
sometimes called the gutty," flies over bridges
and streams and sand-hills, through thickets of
gorse and, alas! sometimes into sand-pits, or even
amid gorse-bushes, from which it is recovered
with great difficulty, for the rules are inexorable,
and a ball must be hit exactly where it lies.
When a hole is "made," however, and the ball
has settled into the goal of the player's ambi-
tion, it is, of course, impossible to play it for the
next hole until it has been removed. A tiny
pile of sand or earth, called a tee, is then made
for it, just outside the hole, and within certain
fixed limits called the teeing-ground, and the
little ball is then ready to set out on its next
long journey. The player or side that wins
the greatest number of holes in the entire
round has the game; or, in medal play, the
victor is the side or the player making the
round in the least number of'strokes; and as
certain conditions cause the loss of a stroke,
one needs to be very careful how he strikes.
Holes are punched out of the ground with an
iron especially made for this purpose, are four
or five inches in diameter and lined with iron.
The holes on the outward journey are usually
designated by white flags, and those coming in
with red flags. The space in the immediate
vicinity of a hole is a very interesting part of
the grounds, because, even if your ball lies
quite near the hole, a wrong shot may send it
not quite near enough or far beyond, and so
give that hole to your opponent. This space
is called the futting-green, and the process of
holing the ball from here is called putting.
Perhaps you may suppose that the golfing-
ground or links has been carefully prepared for
the convenience of golfers, but no such consid-
eration is shown, and indeed the most impor-


tant feature of the game, and that which adds
its greatest interest and excitement, is the over-
coming of the various obstacles in the way of
knolls, hillocks, thickets, and sand-pits to be
avoided, called by one general name, hazards,
which tax the player's skill to the utmost.
All sorts of names have been given by face-
tious golfers to the hazards and holes on well-
known links. Bunker is a common name for a
hazard of any sort, but was originally applied to
sand-pits only. The "scholar's bunker," "Tam's
coo," Walkinshaw's grave," the "saucer," the
feather-bed hole," and the "crater," are others
of these names.
But we have not yet spoken of two very im-
portant matters connected with golfing,-the
clubs and the "caddies." Of clubs there must be
a generous variety, though the tendency of later
years is to discard many that were once con-
sidered indispensable. The ball is capable of
assuming so many singular positions that the
player must consider carefully what club will
best suit his purpose at the time. The clubs
are shafts of wood to which are attached heads
of wood or iron. Among them are the driving-
cltb, the mashie, the niblick, the lofting-iron,
sand-iron, and driving-iron, the long cleek and
short cleek, and the brassy. Yellow orange-wood
is the best choice for the shafts of iron clubs,
and split hickory for the shafts and seasoned
beech for the heads of wooden clubs. The faces
of some clubs are beveled or spooned to lift a
bad-lying ball. The putter has a short handle,
and is used on the putting-green.
A very important personage on the links is
the caddie, the man or boy who carries the stout
holland case or bag in which are kept the vari-
ous clubs, also balls to replace those which may
be lost; who hands the clubs when needed; and
who usually gives advice whether it is needed
or not.
The caddie who has followed his calling for
some time becomes a very wise man; and if he
is not a fine player, he understands how his
master should play. When he carries for an
amateur golfer, his remarks are not infrequently
sarcastic. It is his duty to keep account of the
order of the game and give notice of his turn to
the golfer who has employed him. The best of
them take the most profound interest in the

game which they are following, and do not hesi-
tate to express their contempt for bad playing.
A bright red uniform was formerly worn by
Scotch golfers, as a sort of danger-signal to
passers-by; but modern golfers assume a costume
of Norfolk jacket and knickerbockers, not un-
like that worn on the tennis-court. The vet-
eran golfer pays little attention to his dress, so
long as it is comfortable, and looks with some
contempt on the smart outfit of the stout young
college man.
The ground best suited to golf is a broad
stretch of undulating land with sandy soil, cov-
ered with short turf, and supplied with occa-
sional sand-holes and a fair amount of growing
bushes. The links of St. Andrews by the sea in
Scotland, is the most famous of all golfing-
grounds, and the town is not better known for
its ancient university than for its golfing.
In the golfing literature of this ancient town
is a pleasant rhyme by Mr. Barclay, captain of
St. Andrews University Golf Club, on "The
Graduate in Golf":

And so while years are moving,
He is steadily improving;
Though he 's never any nearer his degree,
There is this consideration:
He has made his reputation
As a Golfer in the City by the Sea.

The St. Andrews course is about four miles
in length, and the ambition of all true golfers is
to win on this historic ground. When a great
game for a medal is in progress, from one end
of the town to the other, from the professor to
the serving-maid at the inn, every citizen has
a more or less outspoken interest in the game.
But excitement could reach no greater height in
the City by the Sea, when, a few years ago, a
young professional golfer made the round of
eighteen holes in seventy-four strokes, the very
best record of previous years being seventy-
seven. At the spring and fall meetings of The
Royal and Ancient Golf Club of St. Andrews,
golfers pour in from every quarter, and the little
town is filled to overflowing. When the links
is deserted by the grown-up golfers, you may see
a crowd of boys in very short trousers who take
the field with their little clubs and are riotously
happy to follow in the footsteps of their elders,


srr ~F-r 7>:
-%~~ .' r2.~
-) -
'I;- 3* "

-It -
.. -"._
r,_ ,_ :
'-*" ~ ~ .. : ...... o_ ",,. .' ...,"i


even though a half hundred strokes are spent in
getting the ball into the first hole.
There is a ladies' links at St. Andrews, as
at some other famous links, laid out on a smaller
plan than that of their brothers, with holes
seventy or eighty yards apart, for the use of
ladies' golf clubs, which are increasing as the
years go on.
A game with a history of more than four
hundred years must necessarily have some inter-
esting records. Golf has been greatly liked by
kings. In the time of James I. it was generally
practised by all classes. The unfortunate Charles
I. was devoted to golf. While on a visit in
Scotland in 1641, as he was deeply engaged in
a game, news was brought him of the breaking
out of a rebellion in Ireland, and the royal
golfer threw down his club and retired in great
agitation to Holyrood House. When he was
imprisoned at Newcastle, his keeper kindly per-
mitted him to take recreation on the golfing-
links with his train. It is said that Mary Queen

of Scots was seen playing golf in the field be-
side Seaton a few days after the murder of her
husband. In 1837 a magnificent gold medal
was presented to St. Andrews by William IV., to
be played for annually. One of the earlier
kings forbade the importation of golf-balls from
Holland because it took away "na small quan-
titie of gold and silver out of the kingdom of
Scotland," and at one time "golfe and futeball
and other unprofitable games" were forbidden
in England, because archery, so necessary to the
defense of the nation, was being neglected in
their favor.
Golf is good for the overworked business or
professional man, because he cannot possibly
think of anything else when hunting balls or
driving them over "the green," or "putting" in
the face of an enemy. As some one says, Care
may sit behind the horseman, but she never pre-
sumes to walk with the caddie." The game
may be played gently, or with vigor, by a semi-
invalid out for a good constitutional, or by a


smart young college athlete. Unlike hunting
and fishing, tennis, cricket, and base-ball, it can
be enjoyed at all seasons, except when snow
is on the ground, and even then enthusiastic
golfers sometimes play, using red balls. An
old Dutch tile shows the game, or something
quite similar, being played by skaters on ice.
Strength and adroitness, sureness of aim,
elasticity of muscle, patience and self-control,
judgment and daring, are developed by golfing
practice. And when one has walked around a

four-mile course, with many side trips in search
of mischievous runaway balls, he has had a very
good pedestrian trip. And if he cannot equal
the agility of those players who boast shots of
250 yards over church steeples and other strik-
ing hazards, yet he has had excellent sport, and,
in sleep, dreams of the next time when he can
pack up his clubs, summon his caddie, and take
another, and of course a more successful, turn
on the links; and he sorely pities the man who
has never played this fascinating game.

, .. [ i




N N .:.rth C ar,.hr '. ...n:e -.: n,,,,
Sh. th...uglt I t !.'.il I 't d .-
kSlh, t.oli.Ihe ,d tl' hr At- .t : Oc :'cir
A n- J rhi; 0 i": i'lp.l .I '.I. i

"" .T'. hatm r-,,t St it J,, i. d
S T h. p. -.plc ..i ., l...-r
And th madi i -, ti...
l O' n Alleghan. .:r.-r

Sn.lJ n Ji ,' I .r: .: i .,iI it uI
S hI, t i-., : l': i -n..
r;u i k .-.t thI. F I.-u .i I ,, r: r ,. 1 r-
F I. -t Er. l th ,,_ I

U p ., I, nr I, .. r u _plln-1,-
I.: I' r i "I -r ..I p i 'I
S\ I. it:l ini, io j'. itill:.
F ,,, m :,l 'in .. rn llirin.





I iJ
, l

U Ui



- r~. 4


Ca a



:' **.***' Q-1 '' .

ft ----


South Car,.1n r i .:a o,:ttojn -:
An.:l 3 I ar' c .tinm unt of rice: --,
lU t t i lJ:n tlh t her childirlr,n .'\
-arn e. slhdln -,n the ice

No hor l i..mcrin c',.r ,r.rc br;ai.r
Than Marion :nd hi.;s lanl,.
\\1, h. f I,.l'ht F:.r ind-i[)pchJ :lnc:
A nd l n\'eIl th.-ir natnr landI :.

Th:r, :ll ;p .leI l t harb, r
\\'tl Iort- 1,1 C'arilc.t,.,n Bay.
.e Anrd hi:r; .on.- April rnornuiii
: [ir... ht i, a I :i l t I la ..




._,_ ._ .f




/ x

*2 'i
-I i -/






IT all happened in a class in dictation. After
reading the lesson aloud, the class carefully writ-
ing as she read, the teacher told one of the girls
first to collect the slates and then to distribute
them, seeing that no pupil got the same slate
When this was done, the teacher took her
book, and spelled the words aloud, the pupils
correcting mistakes on the slates as she read.
She had not spelled more than a half-dozen
words, when she discovered a small boy, about
the center of the class, crying most piteously.
Of course the lesson was stopped for the
moment, until she should learn the cause of the
trouble; but to all her questions came only fresh
sobs in reply.
Again and again in most affectionate terms
the weeping boy was begged to explain his dis-
tress, but without avail.
At last, in desperation, the teacher bade him
come to her. This he seemed quite willing to
do, and advancing, still convulsed with sobs, he
laid upon her lap the slate he had just received.
It belonged to a bright-eyed little girl, and the
dictation exercise upon it was quite creditably
written; but, alas! from a friendly looking slate
-a slate, mind you, the very last thing from
which one would expect such a thing-had
come the random shot that had caused such

The slate in its shape and intention looked
friendly. Its owner had yellow curls, and eyes
that danced. No doubt she fired thoughtlessly
into the air, not realizing that some one would
surely receive the shot, and that it might strike
a tender spot.
However this may be, the grievous legend
upon its face was as follows:
"Whoever gets this slate this is them."



ON a clear and frosty morning, when the snow is soft and white,
Ere the sun has wiped the dainty footprints out,
You can see the tracks of squirrels who went calling through the night
On their neighbors in the forest round about.



IT all happened in a class in dictation. After
reading the lesson aloud, the class carefully writ-
ing as she read, the teacher told one of the girls
first to collect the slates and then to distribute
them, seeing that no pupil got the same slate
When this was done, the teacher took her
book, and spelled the words aloud, the pupils
correcting mistakes on the slates as she read.
She had not spelled more than a half-dozen
words, when she discovered a small boy, about
the center of the class, crying most piteously.
Of course the lesson was stopped for the
moment, until she should learn the cause of the
trouble; but to all her questions came only fresh
sobs in reply.
Again and again in most affectionate terms
the weeping boy was begged to explain his dis-
tress, but without avail.
At last, in desperation, the teacher bade him
come to her. This he seemed quite willing to
do, and advancing, still convulsed with sobs, he
laid upon her lap the slate he had just received.
It belonged to a bright-eyed little girl, and the
dictation exercise upon it was quite creditably
written; but, alas! from a friendly looking slate
-a slate, mind you, the very last thing from
which one would expect such a thing-had
come the random shot that had caused such

The slate in its shape and intention looked
friendly. Its owner had yellow curls, and eyes
that danced. No doubt she fired thoughtlessly
into the air, not realizing that some one would
surely receive the shot, and that it might strike
a tender spot.
However this may be, the grievous legend
upon its face was as follows:
"Whoever gets this slate this is them."



ON a clear and frosty morning, when the snow is soft and white,
Ere the sun has wiped the dainty footprints out,
You can see the tracks of squirrels who went calling through the night
On their neighbors in the forest round about.


Day with


THE baby I 'm acquainted with
Knows naught of battle's harms,
Although he 's of the infantry,
And often up in arms.

a ~2~'~~*

He puts his grandpa's glasses on,
Then imitates his frown,
And reads the paper backward, while
He holds it upside down.
Sometimes he cries, and oh, so hard,
I think he understood
The good old doctor when he said
That it would do him good.


' i- r-

With kitty oft upon the rug
He has a wrestling match,
And kitty, it may be, will win
By just the merest scratch.

Each day nurse wheels him to the park,
So, in his carriage there,
A little son and heir may find
A little sun and air.

He croons a little song that sounds
Like "Gum, oh, gum with me!"
And, as he is a minor, he
Selects a minor key.

As in his crib he dozes off,
With such a funny snore,
We wish he 'd sleep till eight, instead
Of waking up at four.


WILL Maysie E- of Kansas City, Mo., from whom
we printed a letter in the August Letter-Box, kindly send
her address to the Editor.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Here is a story I wrote about
the honey-bees, and I saw it all.
One morning in July, 1894, my father was looking at
his peach-trees, and he noticed something shaped like a
bag, and, looking more closely, he saw it was a swarm of
bees. He at once put a hive under the tree, on a table,
covered it with a white sheet. After that he put on his
farmer's hat to keep the bees away from his face. He
also put on a long coat. Then he took along pole and
tied a brush to it, and brushed the bees from the tree on
the table. Soon the bees began going in the hive. A few
days afterward they made a comb and put honey in some
of the cells. My father did not take the honey from the
hive this first year, nor did he let them build in the upper
part. Ever your reader, ETHEL M- .


A VERY amusing and simple plaything can easily be
made from an orange, a tumbler, and a handkerchief.
Take an orange, and in the center of one side cut a
small triangle in the skin; turn over the little piece you
take out and press it back
again into the place from
which it came, putting the
white side out. This makes
anose. Then cut out a large
crescent-shaped slit for a
mouth, and two small round
holes above (cut down to the
pulp of the orange, which
will make them look dark)
for eyes.
Then take a tumbler and,
placing a handkerchief over
the top, set the orange in it. Take hold of the handker-
chief on each side and slowly pull first one way and then
the other. The orange will look almost like a live head,
ducking and bowing with a ridiculously idiotic simper.
The little puppet never fails to occasion much amusement.
C. R. S-.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am eighteen years old, and a
Northern girl, but we have lived here six years. I have
become accustomed to the Southern ways, but of course
I prefer my home (New York State). My father has two
coal-mines. In this town there are seven hundred work-
men employed.
We have a little "city" of our own in the house, having
fifteen in the family most of the time, with twenty almost
every evening. LILLIAN A--.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl seven years
old. I think I will tell you about a sail I had. I went
out to sail one day on a large white yacht, and spent the
night on board.
We stayed that night near an island.

In the morning I went to see a life-saving station.
A man took us all around.
We saw some large boats:. they looked like sail-boats,
but they were large rowboats; and there was a. surf-boat.
After we had seen all the boats, we rowed back to the
yacht, and then.we went out to sail. Yours truly,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have been acquainted with
you for about four or five years, and I have enjoyed you
very much. I have not taken you since 1890. At the
school here one of the directors gave you to us for a year,
and my teacher reads you to us. I have enjoyed "Tom
Sawyer Abroad" very much. Now you maybe glad to
know something about our school. The boys are divided
into clubs, and they are named after some well-known
men, namely: Parrish Club," Crozier Club," George
Brown Club," and Washington Club." We have two
cornet bands here, and I think they play very nicely.
We have four military companies, and last Saturday the
"House of Refuge boys came here to drill for us. They
beat us in drilling, but we beat them with our band; and
we hope we can drill as well as they did some day.
Some of the boys want to write to you, and I guess you
will get another letter from us some day.
Yours truly, JOSEPH C. S- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have seen so many letters
from little girls of my age that I thought I would write
and tell you what a lovely time I had camping at Cedar
Lake this summer. We camped in a cottage on the side
of the hill a little way from the lake, which is very pretty.
A gentleman in the next camp had a kodak and took
pictures of our camp. I learned to row, and so I went on
the lake every day, and in the evening I would go bathing.
Several of my friends take you, but I don't think any
of them enjoy you any more than I do. I have taken
other magazines, but I have never read a magazine I
like as well as ST. NICHOLAS.
I remain your little reader, FLOY K. McM- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl twelve years old,
and I have two younger brothers Herbert, who is nine,
and Arthur, who is seven. I have been to Europe once,
and am going again. When we were there, Papa, Mama,
Herbert, Arthur, and I enjoyed it very much. We saw
all the countries, but I liked Holland the best. It looks
so funny to see so many windmills and everybody skat-
ing on the ice all over. The Hollanders are strong
people, because they have so much out-door exercise. I
also liked Switzerland, as the scenery is grand there. All
these countries are so different from our own country.
We have a big Newfoundland dog named "Jack,"
and while we were in Atlantic City, N. J., a lady swam
out too far and she could not get back again. The divers
were occupied with some other work; so when she called
for help, Jack jumped in and brought her to shore and
you can imagine the fuss the people made over our dog
for saving the lady's life. She gave him a silver collar
with "Jack engraved on it.
I have taken you for five years,--ever since I com-
menced to read,--and I like Lady Jane," The White
Cave," and "The Fortunes of Toby Trafford the best


of your stories. I am quite interested in "Jack Bal-
lister's Fortunes," and I 'm sure it will be a good story.
I will now close with love to your readers and yourself.
I am your faithful friend,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: My brother and I have taken
you for eight years, and enjoy your delightful stories
very much. Among those I like most are" Polly Oliver's
Problem," "Toinette's Philip," and "The White Cave."
I am an American girl twelve years old, and for ten
months of the year I live on the island of Oahu at a
boarding-school. I come home in the summer for ten
During the vacation we go on many picnics and horse-
back rides with visitors, to see the points of interest in
this district. One of these is a place called Waipuka,
which means water-hole."
Water was always desired by the natives, as their
principal food, kalo or taro, grows in it, so every
spring was utilized. Near Waipuka was some water
which the natives wished to carry to the kalo-patches,
and a tunnel was dug, and at every little distance a shaft
was cut down to meet it; but nobody knows why. In
this way water was taken to the patches.
With best wishes for you, dear ST.- NICHOLAS,
I remain-yours truly, EDITH H. B-- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I want to tell you about the
library I have, called the Envelope Library. You write
ten short,stories or essays or rhymes, and then you put
them in envelopes and write on them, "Envelope Li-
brary, No. and "2," and so on; then you tie them all
together with dainty ribbon and send them some place.
Yours truly, AGNES E. S-- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a girl eleven years old,
and I live in Scotland seven miles from a town. There
are woods in front of our house, and a river, and some-
times on a hot summer day we go down to the river and
wade, and our governess reads to us.
There is a little summer-house built in the woods. It
is made of wood and moss, and has a thatching of
heather; and there are seats all round and a rustic table
in the middle, and sometimes we have tea over there.
We have two ponies named "Daisy" and Molly,"
and sometimes I ride on Daisy to Huntly,-that is the
nearest town to us,--and I get the letters.
My sister has three birds, and we have a little fox-
terrier named Santa," after Santa Claus.
Your loving reader, ELMA G--


OH, Mother! I 've had the most comical dream -
The funniest ever- you heard I
I dreamed that a very small pussy I was,
And that I was after a bird.

It flew away/up in the old cherry-tree,
And sat singing on the top bough,
And I said to myself, as I climbed up that tree,
"My young fellow, I '11 soon have you now."

So I climbed up the tree just as quick as I could,
And crouched there just ready to spring,
A-taking my aim, when a small boy came by
With a gun. Then I heard a sharp "ping."

If I had slept on just one moment more,
I certainly should have been dead;
But I woke pretty quickly and, looking around,
Found that I was myself--little Fred.
(A Young Contributor).

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We live at an army post out
West, and my father is quartermaster. One morning,
very early in the month of July, I heard an orderly say,
"The Colonel's compliments, and he wants to see the
quartermaster at his office."
The cavalry was ordered to Chicago right away. The
infantry had gone the night before to some place farther
west, where they were having trouble.
Then there was a hurry, the men and the officers get-
ting things ready to start. We are four miles from
town, and we drove down to see them get on the cars.
First, they put the horses on, and then the baggage, and
then the troops there were four of them- all stood in
line on each side of the cars and marched in just as they
do when going to drill or stables. "Going to stables "
means the soldiers marching down to groom their horses
twice a day.
We boys have a little troop of our own which we call
"M" troop. The troops are called by letter, and there
used to be "M" troop of the big soldiers, but there
is n't any now.
The troops went into camp at Chicago, and we saw
in a weekly paper the pictures of the camp. My brother
is two years older than I am, and he gets ST. NICHOLAS
all the time, and we like to read it.
Dictated by JAMIE C-
(Six years old).

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am an American girl, and
was born in Japan. My papa is an officer in the Ameri-
can Navy. I am living in Germany to learn German and
music, and as it is a very historical country you learn a
great deal besides the language. I saw a letter from
Dresden in the June ST. NICHOLAS, and I enjoyed it
because I was there then. Jena is on the river Saale,
and lies in a valley surrounded by hills, on one of which
Napoleon fought the battle of Jena in 1806. It is but a
short distance from our villa. There is a large univer-
sity here, and Schiller was once a teacher in it.
Next week we expect to walk through the Thuringian
Forest; we will be seven days journeying.
I have taken you for nearly three years, and love you
very much. Lovingly your friend,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am ten years old, and I am
an American, and I am spending the summer in Poros,
Greece. We go in bathing every day, and I can swim,
and row, and sail a boat. I am homesick for America.
There is a Greek naval station here, and some Greek
war-ships. I went to visit one the other day. I like it
here, but I like my home better.
There has been a strong north wind blowing, and it
upset a boat in front of our house, and seven people were



drowned. There are two old war-ships here, sent long
ago by the United States to fight the Turks in Crete.
They are all rusty and fallen to pieces now.
ST. NICHOLAS is sent to us by our friends a. home,
and I enjoy it very much.

(Printed as it was written.)
DEAR SAINT NICHOLAS: My papa keeps a store and
one day 3 rather foren men came into his store they said
they came from Syria, the town I think was Damascus.
I became interested in them at once and on inquiring
their religion they said Christians. I was glad to hear
that. They said that they had these kind of stores, and
dressed after our fashion. I like SAINT NICHOLAS and
think it is the best monthly published for boys and girls.
I liked "Decatur and Somers" because I study Como-
dore Decatur in School. I am afraid I have written a
long letter so I will close. I remain your Loving Reader,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have lived in Pocatello since
I was five years old. I spent last year in the country,
on a large farm, and in St. Louis. On our way back to
Idaho we went to Chicago to visit the World's Fair. We
were there about two weeks, and I enjoyed myself very
much. I was very much pleased with Helen Keller's

letter, in the Christmas number, about the World's Fair.
I read Mrs. Foote's story, "A Four-leaved Clover in
the Desert," and liked it very much indeed. The peo-
ple of Pocatello raise a good many vegetables and a little
fruit by irrigation. I am very fond of reading. I have
never been able to walk alone, but I am getting better
I liked your story of the navy, Decatur and Somers"
.very much. I hope there will be some more fairy stories
in ST. NICHOLAS soon. I am very fond of them. Itis
very hot here; we have not had any rain to amount to
anything since in the spring. We very seldom have
Wishing you good luck, I remain your Idaho reader,

WE have received pleasant letters from the young
friends whose names follow: Lula McM., Madelaine E.,
Esther G., H. M., Eleanor A. L., Alice G. M., Marga-
retta H., Charles T. M., Muriel G., Alice McL. F.,
Lillian B., Elsie M. P. and Carrie M. H., Fannie H.,
Marion A. T., Edward A. J., Miriam S., Nellie B.,
Gladys, Vivien, and Miriam V., Alice and Anne, Ed-
ward J. E., Virginia J., Lila L., H. P. C., May W.
and Marjorie S., Alice C. B., M. and R. C., Arthur T.
S., Louise and Emma J., Madelon W., Harris P., Alice
L. S., Jeannette S. K., Nena W. and Evy T. McG.,
Robt. W. B., Helen W., Caroline S. B., Lurline H. W.


NUMERICAL ENIGMA. "Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy." ST. ANDREW'S CROSS OF DIAMONDS. I. I. M. 2. Sew. 3.
EASY PRIMAL ACROSTIC. Chopin. Cross-words: I. Cat. Satan. 4. Metages. 5. Waged. 6. Ned. 7. S .. I. 5. .
Hat. 3. Obi. 4. Pun. 5. Ice. 6. Nap. Ham. 3. Holes. 4. Salutes. 5. Metre. 6. See 7. 7. III. .
Hat 0bi. 4. Pun. 5 Ice. 6. .S. 2. Dam. 3. Dales. 4- Salines. 5. Mends. 6. Ses(ame). 7.
METAMORPHOSES. I. Soup, sour, pour, pout, post, past, fast, S IV. i. S. 2. Dem. Daces. 4. Secles. Mlae. 6.
fist, fish. II. Fish, pish, pith, pits, puts, nuts. See. 7 S. V. S. 2. Sir. Silas. 4. Silicas. 5. Raced.
CONNECTED WORD-SQUARES. I. x. Draft. 2. Rumor. 3. Am- 6. Sad. 7. S.
ice 4. Focus. 5. Tress. II. i. Quest. 2. Unbar. 3. Ebony.
4. Sands. 5. Tryst. III. I. Salts. 2. Afore. 3. Local. 4. Trail. RIDDLE. Scrape.
5. Sells. IV. Thes Horal. 3. Erase. 4. Waste. 5. HOUR-GLASS. Centrals, Charade. Cross-words: I. plaCard. 2.
Sleek. etHer. 3. vAt 4. R. 5. pAn. 6. laDen. 7. libErty.
A DIAMOND IN A DIAMOND. r. B. 2. Bed. 3. Belay. (Eladah.) v .
SBelated. 5. Date 6 es. 6. 7. D) A HOLIDAY TRIP. i. Washington. 2. New Orleans. 3. Cuba
4. 4. Amazon. 5. Detroit. 6. St. Clair Flats. '7. Lake Erie. 8.
P. The days are still, and the long nights hushed, Cleveland. 9. Ohio. i0. Boston. zz. Lowell. 12. New York.
And the far sky burns like the heart of a rose; 3. Ocean. x4. Great Britain. 5. London. 6. Scotland. 17.
And the woods, with the gold of autumn flushed, dinburgh. 8. Ireland. Limerick. Venice. 2. Rome.
Lavish their splendor in crimson snows. 22. Southern Italy. 23. Sicily. 24. Turkey. 25. Cairo. 26.
WORD-SQUARE. I. Races. 2. Alert. 3. Cedar. 4. Erase. Straits of Bab-el-Mandeb. 27. Siam. 28. China. 29. Japan. 30.
5. Strew. San Francisco.
To OUR PUZZLERS: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the 15th 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 AUGUST NUMBER were received, before August o5th, from Jo and I-Blanche and
Fred-Merry and Co.-Dorothy Swinburne -Winifred Peck.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE AUGUST NUMBER were received, before August isth, from W. L., n--"Too Many to Name,"
i--E. H., 2-M. McG., o--John F. Merchant, I-"Two Bold Robbers," i-No name, Glen Haven, i-Geo. S. Corlew, I-
Mattie and Marian, I-Ick and Tid, 7-La Rue, 4-Katharine Sherman, --Charlotte J. B., i-Elsie S. Kimberly, i- Gordon
Vincent Hoskins, 2 Ecneralc," 5- Willie and Sallie, 9-" Country Girls," Helen Rogers, 7- Effie K. Talboys, 4- Minnie and
Dudley, 3 -L. O. E., Ix Rose and Violet, 4-Pearl F. Stevens, z Walter Haight, so-Emily E. Lake, x-"Two Little Brothers,"
8--Daisy Gorham, 4--H. P. C., I--Mama and Sadie, 8-Kate Lyon, 9- Helen A. Sturdy, a -G. B. D. and M., 6--Willie Gray
Cross, 2-" The Butterflies," 8- R. C. B., 3-Rudolph and Natalie, 5 -Kenneth Lewis, J. A. S., 4-" Tip-Cat," zo-- George S.
Seymour, 7- Jessie Chapman and John Fletcher, 9 Ida C. Thallon, sn -" Three Blind Mice," 8-" Highmount Girls," 8-Josephine
Sherwood, n- Bessie R. Crocker, 8 -Polly, Dot and Jack, 8-Apple K., zo- Rose Red," 3.


WHEN the names of the six musical instruments, in
the picture here given, have been rightly guessed and

written one below another, the initial letters will spell
the name of a famous musician.

--2-3 is a Latin prefix denoting separation;
1-2-3-4, a circular form, much used in ornamentation;
3-4-5-6-7 is curtain cloth, of common reputation;
5-6-7 is border, edge, or line of decoration;
7-8-9-Io, a girl's nickname, a German appellation;
9-Io-II, a boy's nickname, a plain abbreviation;
9-1o-11-i2-13-14, a race of our great creation;
12-13-14, an element of electric 'experimentation;
The whole is what we all should use in every relation,
In choice of pleasures and of friends, as well as occupation.
I 'm sure you know already, without further speculation,
That all my letters spell one word, which is

W .. L E

FROM north to south (seven letters), a central point;
from west to east, hostile; from northwest to southeast,
the nobility; from southwest to northeast, a small spiny
fish. H. M. A.

MY primals and finals each name mythical personages
whose stories are told by Homer.
CROSS-WORDS (of equal length): I. To dose. 2. A
verb. 3. A vase. 4. A pronoun. 5. Sick. 6. To show
affection. 7. A serpent. 8. A beverage,



MAKE the following
changes by prefixing and
suffixing the same letter.
Examples: Change a sound
to rocks. Answer, s-tone-s.
Change a feminine name
to a title, Answer,
I. Change illuminated
to rents.
2. Change kind of roof
to large boats.
3. Change a common
verb to ventured.
4. Change a personal
pronoun to accom-
5. Change a coin to
S6. Change a preposition
to a kind of bell.
7. Change an article to
a group.
8. Change a piece of
ground to open-
S 9. Change a preposition
y. 4 to crimes.

I AM composed of thirty-three letters, and form a quota-
tion from the works of J. G. Holland.
My 25-19-4-29 is the thread carried by the shuttle.
My 22-8-I5-33 is one. My 5-28-12-23-II is a Russian
imperial proclamation. My 6-1-14-9-31-18 is brumal.
My 2-26-13-17-30-24 is ceased to have in mind. My.
10-20-21-32-16-7-27-3 is any body that gives light.
KILE noe how grinles ety poun het sadns,
Zignag shi stal noup het figdan lais
Hatt saber shi fedrins rafa ot thoer island,
I chawt eht kebal bromvene hiltdagy fial,
Dan, giltwener ni eht peal nad wetray kises,
Het mid rasts after froth, eht clod nomo sire.

EXAMPLE: Take strife from to promote, and leave to
wade through. Answer, For-war-d, ford.
I. Take a union of three from a lover of his country,
and leave an Irish nickname.
2. Take a blow from colorless, and leave a pronoun.
3. Take a conjunction from sincere, and leave a
famous Spanish poem.
4. Take a refusal from a French president, and leave
a vehicle.
5. Take relatives from falling, and leave to utter
melodious sounds.

6. Take a respectful address '
from wished for, and leave an act.
7. Take to depart from great suffering,
and leave an indefinite number. ,
8. Take a preposition from ending, and '
leave an inhabitant of the water.
9. Take suffrage from a bigot, and leave
a river of Scotland.
IO. Take a writing-fluid from making
a sharp sound, and leave to adhere.
II. Take a cozy place from a general
pardon, and leave a feminine name.
12. Take an entrance from the recipient
of a legacy, and leave the sheltered side.
13. Take uproar from a burden, and
leave to tarry.
14. Take to inquire from a small recep-
tacle, and leave a wager.
15. Take nevertheless from revelry, and
leave showy.
When the little words-taken from the
longer ones-- have been placed one below
another, the initial letters will spell a na-
tional holiday. PLEASANT E. TODD.


I. UPPER LEFT-HAND SQUARE: I. A musical drama.
2. A publication. 3. The after-song. 4. A kind of for-
tification. 5. The central part of an amphitheater.
2. A Jewish doctor. 3. A famous Norwegian writer.
4. The white poplar. 5. An ocean steamer.
III. CENTRAL SQUARE: I. A month. 2. Tranquil-
lity. 3. Furious. 4. A sugary covering for cake. 5. A
gyrate. 2. A familiar greeting. 3. To jostle. 4. To run
away. 5. To let down.
2. Flat. 3. To shun. 4. An old word meaning "a thin
plate of metal." 5. An officer in a church.



e 77

.r~rr .1110L

~: --~. .-.1,


/ ----

4 '

L il

H. A,


University of Florida Home Page
© 2004 - 2010 University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries.
All rights reserved.

Acceptable Use, Copyright, and Disclaimer Statement
Last updated October 10, 2010 - - mvs