Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Bruin's boxing match
 The last voyage of the "consti...
 Elsie's brother
 Jim: a tame crow
 A boy of the first empire
 Lost hours
 The changelings
 Chris and the wonderful lamp
 Jack Ballister's fortunes
 How the cabin boy saved the...
 Three freshmen: Ruth, Fran, and...
 How Ted was entertained
 The doings of a mole
 Grandmother's song
 Rhymes of the states
 The conceited mouse
 Through the scissors
 Report concerning the "black bear...
 The letter box
 The riddle box
 Back Matter
 Back Cover

Title: St. Nicholas
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00293
 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: VID00293
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
        Front Matter
        Page 266
    Bruin's boxing match
        Page 267
        Page 268
        Page 269
        Page 270
        Page 271
    The last voyage of the "constitution"
        Page 272
        Page 273
        Page 274
        Page 275
        Page 276
        Page 277
        Page 278
        Page 279
    Elsie's brother
        Page 280
        Page 281
    Jim: a tame crow
        Page 282
        Page 283
        Page 284
        Page 285
    A boy of the first empire
        Page 286
        Page 287
        Page 288
        Page 289
        Page 290
        Page 291
        Page 292
        Page 293
        Page 294
        Page 295
        Page 296
    Lost hours
        Page 297
    The changelings
        Page 298
    Chris and the wonderful lamp
        Page 299
        Page 300
        Page 301
        Page 302
        Page 303
        Page 304
        Page 305
        Page 306
        Page 307
        Page 308
        Page 309
        Page 310
        Page 311
        Page 312
    Jack Ballister's fortunes
        Page 313
        Page 314
        Page 315
        Page 316
        Page 317
        Page 318
        Page 319
        Page 320
        Page 321
        Page 322
    How the cabin boy saved the fleet
        Page 323
        Page 324
        Page 325
    Three freshmen: Ruth, Fran, and Nathalie
        Page 326
        Page 327
        Page 328
        Page 329
        Page 330
        Page 331
        Page 332
    How Ted was entertained
        Page 333
        Page 334
        Page 335
    The doings of a mole
        Page 336
        Page 337
        Page 338
        Page 339
        Page 340
    Grandmother's song
        Page 341
    Rhymes of the states
        Page 342
        Page 343
    The conceited mouse
        Page 344
        Page 345
    Through the scissors
        Page 346
        Page 347
    Report concerning the "black bear hunt"
        Page 348
        Page 349
    The letter box
        Page 350
    The riddle box
        Page 351
        Page 352
    Back Matter
        Page 354
    Back Cover
        Page 355
        Page 356
        Page 357
Full Text

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IT was a dreamy, sun-drenched September
afternoon. The wide shallow river was rippling
with a mellow noise over its golden pebbles.
Back from the river, upon both banks, the yel-
low grain-fields and blue-green patches of tur-
nips slanted gently to the foot of the wooded
hills. A little distance down-stream stood two
horses, fetlock-deep in the water, drinking.
Near the top of the bank, where the gravel
had thinned off into yellow sand, and the sand
was beginning to bristle with the scrubby
bushes of the sand-plum, lay the trunk of an
ancient oak-tree. In the effort to split this
gnarled and seasoned timber, Jake Simmons
and I were expending the utmost of our ener-
gies. Our axes had proved unequal to the
enterprise, so we had been at last compelled to
call in the aid of a heavy maul and hard-
wood wedges.
With the axes we had accomplished a slight
split in one end of the prostrate giant. An ax-
blade held this open while we inserted a hard-
wood wedge, which we drove home with repeated
blows of the maul till the crack was widened,
whereupon, of course, the ax dropped out.
The maul--a huge, long-handled mallet, so

heavy as to require both hands to wield it -
was made of the sawed-off end of a small oak
log, and was bound around with two hoops of
wrought-iron to keep it from splitting. This
implement was wielded by Jake, with a skill
born of years in the backwoods.
Suddenly, as Jake was delivering a tremen-
dous blow on the head of the wedge, the maul
flew off its handle, and pounded down the bank,
making the sand and gravel fly in a way that
bore eloquent witness to Jake's vigor. The
sinewy old woodsman toppled over and, losing
his balance, sat down in a thicket of sand-
Of course I laughed, and so did Jake; but
our temperate mirth quieted down, and Jake,
picking himself up out of the sand-plums, went
to recapture the errant maul. As he set it
down on the timber and proceeded to refit the
handle to it, he was all at once quite overcome
with merriment. He laughed and laughed, not
loudly, but with convulsive inward spasms, till
I began to feel indignant at him. When mirth
is not contagious, it is always exasperating.
Presently he sat down on the log and gasped,
holding his sides.

Copyright, 1895, by THE CENTURY Co. All rights reserved.


No. 4.



"Don't be such an old fool, Jake," said I,
rudely; at which he began to laugh again,
with the intolerable relish of one who holds
the monopoly of a joke.
"I don't see anything so excruciatingly
funny," I grumbled, "in the head flying off of
an old maul, and a long-legged old idiot sitting
down hard in the sand-plum patch. That there
maul might just as well as not have hit me on

the Madawaska woods, that struck me as just
about the funniest I ever heard tell of. I 'most
died laughing over it at the time, and whenever
I think of it even now it breaks me all up."
Here he paused and eyed me.
But I don't believe you 'd see anything
funny in it, because you did n't see it," he
continued in his slow and drawling tones, "so
I reckon I won't bother telling you."


the head, and maybe you 'd have called that
the best joke of the season."
Bless your sober soul! answered Jake, "it
ain't that I 'm laughing at."
I was not going to give him the satisfaction
of asking him for his story, so I proceeded to
fix a new wedge and hammer it in with my ax.
Jake was too full of his reminiscence to be
chilled by my apparent lack of interest. Pres-
ently he drew out a short pipe, filled it with
tobacco, and remarked:
"When I picked up that there maul-head, I
was reminded of something I saw once up in

Then he picked up the handle of the maul
as if to resume work.
I still kept silence, resolved not to ask for the
story. Jake was full of anecdotes picked up in
the lumbering camps, and, though he was a
good workman, he would gladly stop any time
to smoke his pipe, or to tell a story.
But he kept chuckling over his own thoughts
until I could n't do a stroke of work. I saw I
had to give in, and I surrendered.
Oh, go along and let 's have it!" said I,
dropping the ax and seating myself on the log
in an attitude of most inviting attention.


This encouragement was
what Jake was waiting for.
"Did you ever see
a bear box?" he in-
quired. I had seen
some performances '--
of that sort, but
as Jake took it
for granted I



and strung the maul up to a branch so it
would be easier to find when I wanted it.
It was maybe a week before I went
\ for that inaul- a little more than a week,
I should say; and then, it being of a
Saturday afternoon, when there was no
work to do, and Bill's leg being so much
better that he could hobble alone, he and
I thought we 'd stroll over to where we 'd
been splitting, and bring the maul in to
"When we got pretty near the place,
and could see through the trees the maul
hanging there where we had left it, Bill
all of a sudden grabbed me sharp by the
arm, and whispered, 'Keep still!'
What is it?' said I, under my breath,
looking all around.
"' Use your eyes if you 've got any,' said he;

had n't, and I stared through the branches in the di-
and did n't reaction he was looking. But there was a trunk
wait for a in the way. As soon as I moved my head
reply, I refrain- a bit, I saw what he
ed from saying so. was watching. There was
BACK QUICK." (SEE NEXT PAGE.) Well, a bear can a fine, young bear sitting
box some, now, I tell you. But I 've seen one back on his haunches,
clean knocked out by an old maul without a ,
handle, just like this one here; and CThere a.
n't may man at the end of it either." e
Here Jake paused to indulge in '-i'-
longed chuckle as the scene
unrolled itself anew before his
mind's eye.
"It happened this way: A
couple of us were splitting
slabs in the Madawaska woods
along in the fall, when, all of
a sudden, the head of the maul
flew off, as this 'ere one did.
Bill, however,- Bill Goodin and look-
was the name of the fellow ing at the
with me,- was n't so lucky as maul as if he
you were in getting out of the did n't know
way. The maul struck a tree, what to make of it.
glanced, and took Bill on the Probably that bear had
side of the knee. It keeled once been hurt in a trap, and
him over so he could n't do any more work.that so had grown suspicious. That there maul
day, and I had to help him back to the camp. hanging from the limb of a tree was some-
Before we left, I took a bit of cod-line out of thing different from anything he 'd ever seen
my pocket, ran it through the eye of the maul, before. Wondering what he was going to do,



we crept a little nearer, without -
makin' any noise, and crouched 2' .
down behind a spruce-bush.
"The bear was maybe
a couple of yards from ..
the maul, and watching "
it as if he thought it


get down
any mo-
ment and
come at
him. A lit-
tle gust of
"A WHACK THAT MUST HAVE MADE windcamethrough
the trees and set
the maul swinging a bit. He did n't like this,
and backed off a few feet. The maul swung
some more, and he drew off still further; and as
soon as it was quite still again, he sidled around
it at a prudent distance and investigated it from
the other side of the tree.
"' The blame fool is scared of it,' whispered
Bill, scornfully; 'let 's fling a rock at him!'
"'No,' said I, knowing bears pretty well;
'let 's wait and see what he 's going to do.'
"Well, when the maul had been pretty still
for a minute or two, the bear appeared to make
up his mind it did n't amount to much after all;
he came right close up to it as bold as you
like, and pawed it kind of inquiringly. The
maul swung away, and, being hung short, it
came back quick and took the bear a smart
rap on the nose.
Bill and I both snickered, but the bear did n't
hear us. He was mad right off, and with a
snort he hit the maul a pretty good cuff; back
it came like greased lightning, and took him
again square on the snout with a whack that
must have made him just see stars.
Bill and I could hardly hold ourselves; but
even if we had laughed right out I don't be-


lieve that bear would have noticed us, he was
so mad. You know a bear's snout is mighty
tender. Well, he grunted and snorted and
rooted around in the leaves a bit, and then went
back at the maul as if he was just going to
knock it into the other side of to-morrow. He
stood up to it, and he did hit it so hard that it
seemed to disappear for half a second. It swung
right over the liml, and, while he was looking for
it, it came down on the top of his head. Great
Scott! how he roared! And then, scratching
his head with one paw, he went at it again with
the other, and hit it just the same way he 'd
hit it before. I tell you, Bill and I pretty near
burst as we saw that maul fly over the limb
again and come down on the top of his head
just like the first time. You 'd have thought
it would have cracked his skull; but a bear's
head is as hard as they make them.
"This time the bear, after rubbing his head
and his snout, and rooting some more in the
leaves, sat back and seemed to consider. In
a second or two he went up to the maul and
tried to take hold of it with one paw;
of course it slipped right away,
and you 'd have thought it -
was alive to see the sharp
way it dodged back
and caught ".' .
him ag.in ,i :.6 I It td
thenoze-. II .
was nir
much S1
of a

this time,
but that nose was
"WHILE HE WAS LOOKING FOR tender enough, then!
OF HIS HEAD." And the bear got des-

) -


operate. He grabbed for the
maul with both paws; and --"
that way, of course, he got
it. With one pull he snap- ;,.
ped the cod-line, and
the victory was his.

and glared at the bit of iron-bound oak lying
so innocent in the leaves, and kept feeling at
his snout in a puzzled sort of way. Then all
of a sudden he gave it up as a bad job, and
ambled off into the woods in a hurry as if
he 'd just remembered something."

a~ -~

"After tumbling the maul about for a while,
trying to chew it and claw it to pieces, and
getting nothing to show for his labor, he ap-
peared absolutely disgusted. He sat down




ROSA went to her grandma's last summer, in June,
And she stayed until late in the-fall;
But the very best friend that she made while
Was the cricket that lived in the wall.
The little brown cricket that lived in the wall,
As merry as.merry could be,
He danced all the dayand he sang all the night-
The gayest of good companies.

Good-by, little cricket," said Rosa, at last,
I 'm sorry to leave you so soon;
But do not forget me; I 'm coming again;
1 'm coming next summer, in June.

I wish I could take you away to my house,
But you would n't enjoy it at all,
For there is n't a bit of a garden, you see,
Nor a dear little hole in the wall."

As Rosa lay nestled that night in her bed,
She heard from her trunk in the hall
A queer little "creakity-creakity-creak "-
'T was the cricket that lived in the wall!
The little brown cricket that lived in the wall
Had taken a journey, you see.
And he danced and he "creakled" the long
winter through -
The gayest of good companies.



HE famous
frigate Con-
stitution," often
known as "Old
..! I Ironsides," was
S- launched Sep-
*n I tember2o,I797,
SI and she there-
--_ fore lacks only
two years of be-
going a century
old. She is the
most famous ship
in the history of the
SUnited States, and in
her renown rivals the
ONE OF THE REMAINING PIECES OF THE her renown rivals the
ORIGINAL '"CONT.ITuTION. celebrated line-of-battle
ship "Victory," Lord Nelson's flag-ship at the
battle of Trafalgar. She has been, indeed, what is
called a lucky ship. She never lost a battle, she
never fell into the hands of the enemy, and she
never was disabled by a storm. Many narrow
escapes she has had in her long and prosperous
career, and she has come triumphant out of all
her adventures. Like the Constitution of the
United States, after which she was named, she
has withstood every danger that threatened, and
is a fitting type of the Ship of State.
Of course, during her seventy-five years of
active service the Constitution often needed to
be repaired. But although the material in her
has been often replaced, she always continued
the same ship, just as the human body is the
same body of the same person, though its sub-
stance is constantly changing. In 1830 it
was decided that the good frigate Constitution
would hardly warrant the cost of repairs, es-
pecially when the nature of modern naval
warfare was considered. She was therefore
condemned, and was about to be broken up
when Oliver Wendell Holmes's famous ode ap-
peared, beginning, "Ay, tear her tattered en-

sign down." The poet shamed Congress, and
it was decided to repair once more the old war-
ship. She took several cruises after that, and
once carried a load of wheat to the starving
poor oftIreland. On that voyage she went
ashore, and being old, there was every reason
why she should have left her bones on the coast;
but, with her usual good luck, the Constitution
got off without serious damage and returned to
her native land.
But a day came at last when no further
repairs would avail, and a government which
pays little for sentiment, would spend nothing
to keep up a ship which had contributed so
much to the glory of our ship-builders, of our
brave seamen, and of our starry flag. The Con-
stitution, leaky and dismantled, was lying at
the Brooklyn Navy-yard, awaiting her doom.
Happily the government again relented in her
favor. It was decided that she should not be
broken up. As long as her old timbers would
hold together she. should be allowed to float,
but not with her trim masts and spars, as if still
a living monument of our naval pride. No;
they would not break her up, but they would
send her into an obscure exile, where few could
see her and where she would soon be forgotten
and gradually wear away. Sometimes I think
it would have been nobler to take the old fri-
gate out to sea, and piercing her sides with a
volley of guns, let her sink into the bosom of
the element which had borne her proud form
to so many victories.
It was decided to lay the old Constitution
by the side of a row of disabled hulks, among
them the British frigate Macedonian which
was captured by the frigate "United States,"'
eighty-three years ago. They lie in a line called
"Rotten Row" at the Navy-yard of Portsmouth,
New Hampshire, like scarred and decrepit pen-
sioners in a hospital waiting, forgotten, for their
last hour while the busy world rolls on.


The old ship was in too crazy a condition to
go around under canvas, even if she had had
the necessary spars and sails. She was leaking
two feet a day while simply lying at the wharf
in the Brooklyn Navy-yard. She was therefore
to be towed to Portsmouth in the windy month
of October. But whether she would ever get
there at all was considered sufficiently doubt-
ful for a naval friend of mine to urge me to
decline the cordial invitation which I had re-
ceived to go in the ship on her last voyage.

a cruise in her palmy days the Constitution had
carried fifty-four guns and a crew of nearly 400
men; but now she was deprived of her batter-
ies, and only a handful of jolly tars were ne-
cessary. Every' man had his place assigned to
him in the boats, and I was told, in case of an
accident, not to wait, but to make at once for
the boat in which I had a place assigned me.
It was about eight bells, or the hour of noon,.
when the word went around that all was ready.
I climbed up the black sides of the famous


To make the matter still more doubtful, the ves-
sel appointed to tow the Constitution was the
old Powhatan," a slow, paddle-wheel war-
steamer, herself in such condition that she also
was condemned not long after this voyage. It
was a case of the blind leading the blind.
Lieutenant William H. Jacques, a well-known
and skilful officer, who is distinguished for his
enterprise in the gun-foundries at Bethlehem,
was in command. A number of bright naval
cadets accompanied him. When manned for

frigate by the narrow ladder of cleats built into
her planking, clinging to the man-ropes, and
for the first time stepped on the deck of the old
Constitution. It was a proud moment in my
life. The lofty bulwarks were there as of old,
but only two guns were seen where once for-
midable batteries had thundered destruction
to the foe; and only a few mariners appeared
where once the decks swarmed with hundreds
of armed seamen prepared to answer the sum-
mons for boarders. The lofty spars were partly


gone, only the lower masts and topmasts re- hatan tooted over the East River; the officer of
mining and the lower yards. The old ship the deck looked over the side to see if all was
seemed to me like an aged lion of the desert, clear; hawsers were cast off; and the vessels be-


. a.


whose eyes are dim, whose teeth are gone, and
whose last roar has rung over the wastes of
And yet a thrill of exultation ran through my
veins as I thought that Hull and Preble and
Bainbridge and Stewart and Decatur had
walked that quarterdeck, and from it had issued
the commands that had imparted such splendor
to the United States navy. Those gallant of-
ficers passed away long ago, but while the ship
they guided to victory exists they need no
other monument to recall achievements whose
skill and daring will never be surpassed while
the Stars and Stripes float over the seas.
The boatswain's shrill whistle rang through
the ship; the hoarse steam-whistle of the Pow-

gan to draw away from the wharves. The sun,
which had been somewhat overcast, came out
and shone brightly over the scene, and the
Constitution was off on her last voyage.
The progress of the ships was naturally slow,
and especial care was required amid the rushing
mazes of Hell Gate; for the rocks which im-
parted such dangers to that hazardous passage
had not yet been blasted. The night proved
to be magnificent. There was a fresh breeze,
and the dark, clear heavens were filled with a
countless multitude of stars. On both sides,
along the shores of the Sound, the lights of cities
seemed unusually bright, as if there wereillumina-
tions in honor of the old ship; and at frequent
intervals the flames of lighthouses and light-




ships marked our eastward course. It was not
until late that I "turned in." The quarters
assigned to me were iq the state-room which
had been occupied by Commodore Hull.

- -. -." -' "

general inner plan remained unaltered, yet dur-
ing the frequent repairs which she had under-
gone every part of her frame and planking had
gradually been replaced, in some cases two or
three times; but these bitts, being of
S s.:11uid :' ., beer, rer.irinc tlir.:' hi

S.'iilo M.arrl'i:'s \'iner i.l .n .- ur
right, and tl,: El, b,. hi l I.lri. --
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our i-t rn.i iei : .i t. -, ard N intui.k-i.
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L *r.:.; ,j : ,. ,- : ,1i .. c p ,. i: .Ii r .Tlt- I .i I r 'i i f
:-'.', ;u,.i l :t '!- 'ajtl i r-c ri i.- n'l (I-irr -t -. il lll-
west, singing sadly in tle shrouds, foetould a
change of weather and a coming storm. The glass
also was falling. But as the gale would probably
not blow before night, we kept on our course.
In looking about the ship, there was shown a pair
of bitts, or blocks of wood to which hawsers or
other large ropes are made fast. These, I was
told, were almost the only remaining pieces of the
original Constitution, as she was when she went
into her first battle. While all her lines and


7 -ia
-st I~

an Atlantic
storm, especially an Oc-
tober storm, and on a
lee shore; for the wind THE "CONSTITUTION," AS
was coming out from PORTSMOUTH. DRAWN ON THE
the northeast, and we SPOT iN 1894.
should have had Cape Cod under our lee.
It was an occasion that called for pru-
dence and not for daring. If you will look



"_4 .-




on the map, you will see that at the east end
of Nantucket the land turns a sharp angle to
the north, terminating in Great Point. This an-
gle forms a breakwater against easterly storms,
and behind it vessels can lie in safety in any
wind from northeast to southwest. It was
decided to make for this sheltered bay, and
there ride out the storm, which was coming on
fast. It was already thick and raining, there
was a heavy easterly swell, and the blasts
shrieked with redoubled force. I think all of
us on board both ships felt a sense of relief
when we heard the cables rattling as the anchors
dropped to the sandy bottom.
It blew hard that night, and all the next day.
About eleven A. M. a boat went up into Nan-
tucket port with some of the cadets; but I pre-
ferred to remain on board, grudging to lose a
moment from the enjoyment of being on the
old Constitution in her last cruise.
As I walked the deck, wrapped to the eyes
in a warm overcoat and protected by a huge
sou'wester, I thought of the thrilling incident
which occurred on the Constitution when she
was lying at anchor, on a previous occasion,
off a milder coast than the bleak shores of New
England. It was in Port Mahon, then one
of the Mediterranean stations of our cruisers.

Commodore Hull was in command. He had
with him his son, a bright, active lad of ten or
One morning, when the commodore was on
shore, the boy began to play with the pet monkey
of the crew. The monkey suddenly snatched
off his cap, and started up the rigging with it.
The boy pursued, and after a lively chase suc-
ceeded in recovering the cap, which he hung
triumphantly on the topgallant yard-arm, and
then sat on the yard to rest himself. He then
took it into his head to "shin up to the main-
truck. This is a small wooden disk which caps
the top of a mast; it has sheave-holes through
which run the halyards that hoist the colors to
the masthead. The truck of the Constitution
was perhaps a scant foot in diameter. Having
reached the truck, the foolhardy lad proceeded
to climb on to it and actually stand upon the
truck, perched in the air 180 feet above the
water. In European men-of-war the stays
reach up to the truck, and sailors who have
tried this perilous feat have been able to get
down by means of the stays. But the stays of
the Constitution did not reach within five or
six feet of the truck, and there was no possible
way for the lad to climb down. His death
appeared inevitable. The whole crew stood



aghast with horror, every instant expecting to
see the boy lose his balance and fall, when
he must be crushed upon the deck.
In the mean time some one on shore had
carried to Commodore Hull news of his son's
perilous position. The man who had quailed
not when the balls of the enemy's -batteries
sung about his ears, trembled now. He sprang
into his boat, and ordered the crew to pull
off to the frigate as if for their lives. On
reaching the ship, he ordered
a musket to be brought to
him. Having cocked it, the
commodore aimed the gun at
his son, and fiercely shouted:
"Jump, or I '11 shoot you!"
The lad hesitated a mo-
ment; then, perhaps for the
first time fully realizing his
awful peril, he gathered him-
self together and sprang out
to clear the side of the ship.
With the rush of a hawk div-
ing on its. prey, the boy
plunged into the sea, fortu-
nately feet foremost. As he
rose to the surface, a dozen
sailors plunged in to bring
him on board.
It was found that the reck-
lessboy had received no serious
injury, in spite of the dive.
But it would be an endless .
task to recount the adventures
and achievements recalled by
the old ship. I must tell of
her last voyage.
On the following day the
wind appeared about to veer
to the northwest. By looking COMMODORE ISAAC HU
on the map you will see that this would have
changed Great Point from a breakwater into
a lee shore. To explain our position more
clearly I will say that so long as the wind
blew from the northeast around to the south,
the island protected the ships from the brunt
of the big seas. But as soon as it should
shift from south to northwest we should get
the full force of the sea as well as of the
wind, and might be driven on shore if it blew

hard. In order to prevent this peril, which
had been foreseen, the boatswain's lively whistle
rang through the frigate, piping the crew to the
windlass to get up the anchors; and the cheery
squeak of the fife was soon heard encouraging
the men as they worked at the windlass.
Then the old Powhatan towed the Constitu-
tion over to Chatham Roads, at what is called
the heel of Cape Cod; and there we anchored.
The wind blew very hard all night out of the

northwest; but, as may be seen at a glance on
the chart, we were under the lee of the land, and
lay as snug as possible, surrounded by a fleet of
schooners which had also sought shelter under
Cape Cod.
By the next afternoon the weather had moder-
ated, and it was thought best to make another
attempt to reach Portsmouth. At that season
the fine weather would not last long, and the
stretch across Massachusetts Bay, although not


very long, was hazardous for a ship in the con- heavy swell from the late storm as we headed
edition of the Constitution. out toward the open sea; but, on the whole,
The fleet of schooners made sail and put everything promised a quiet night across the
to sea when we did. The sun was setting bay, and every heart on board bounded with
with unusual splendor, attended by a troop of exultation under the influence of this inspiring


clouds hued in purple and gold. Like a tri-
umphant escort the fleet danced lightly over
the sparkling waves around the frigate, their
sails rosy in the sun's departing rays; they
looked like a flock of sea-fowl at play. The
central object in this magnificent scene-the
grand old frigate-glided slowly and majesti-
cally toward her last home. It was a spectacle
never surpassed in our naval annals, and never
to be forgotten. It really seemed as if the old
ship, instead of being a fabric of wood and
iron, was a hero whose gray hair was encircled
by wreaths of victory.
There was a fresh westerly breeze and a

scene. At that moment the Constitution rose
on a ;i-1ihe"r ,vell than usual, then sank with
quick butce-i3) motion into the hollow of the
sea, and with a fearfully sudden shock struck
at the center of her keel on a shoal. She rose
on the next wave, and, again descending, struck
with even greater violence.
For a moment every one seemed paralyzed;
the cook, who was as black as Egypt, sprang up
the hatchway with eyes starting out of his head
and a complexion several shades lighter than
But I well remember that the first and chief
thought that came to my own mind at that




moment was: Has the old Constitution found still lies, the only one left of that venerable
her grave here at last ? group of naval pensioners. In a few years more
The loud cry to try the pumps rang through nothing will be left of the Constitution but a
the ship. This being done, it was found that memory and a name. There is something very
the leak had doubled; but as it did not increase pathetic about the old hulk, moored by the
beyond that degree, it was concluded that the wharf of the navy-yard, entirely alone. A roof
old frigate was in no immediate danger, and has been built over her to fit her for a receiv-
would probably float until we could get her to ing-ship, but it sadly disfigures her appearance.
Portsmouth, unless the weather should again She cannot last long without repairs repeated
become stormy. I am firmly of the opinion, from time to time. And yet, as a matter of patri-
which you may call a superstition
if you please, that if it had been
any other ship than the ever
lucky Constitution, this accident
would have been the end of her.
All night we glided slowly past
the sand-dunes of Cape Cod, the
dull boom of the surf coming
to us, borne on the land breeze.
At sunrise we were off Cape
Ann. The sky looked threaten-
ing and uncanny, and we counted
the hours before we could see the
old ship safe from the perils of I
the deep. She was now in a
region where she had achieved
one of her most famous exploits.
In April, 1,84,; being under com-
mand of Ci_,iplin Charles Stew- .-
art, and on the return from a -
long c r ibe, the Constitution fell
in with two large English frigates. .A
They gave. chase, and, as she
was overmatched, she was head-
ed for Marblehead. With her
usual good' fortune she reached
that port first; while the enemy
retired, baffled, from the pursuit
when they saw the hardy fisher- ,
men of Marblehead throwing up
batteries at the. harbor mouth.
Island Light, Isles of Shoals, and OF THE ORIGINAL VESSEL.
soon after the Whaleback lighthouse, guarding otism, she ought to be repaired and preserved,
the mouth of the Piscataqua. Then proceeding as nearly as possible, as she formerly looked.
up the narrow, winding channel, we anchored off It would cost only a few thousand dollars. Do
the navy-yard, Portsmouth. The Constitution not the people of the United States, who owe
was assigned a place with the old ships ranged so much of the national glory to her, owe it to
in a line called Rotten Row. And- there she themselves now to keep up the old ship ?




Do you know Jack? He 's hard to know!
I know him, though-because, you see,
I met him thirteen years ago
When I was born and he was three.



We 've always been together since
I left the nursery- since the days
When I was Duke and he was Prince;
And so we know each other's ways.

He never has two words to say;
But when it comes the time to act,
No matter what comes in the way,
He 's a Niagara cataract.....

He does speak sometimes-times when we
Have found the world too hard and rough:

Then Jack just says that he likes me
And I like him, and that 's enough.

Jack's a real hero, to my mind,
Good as the old ones every bit.
He 's big and strong and brave and kind;
And that 's a hero, is n't it?

Look! here he comes. My! how it snows!
" Come in, Jack, quick!-or I shall scold.
Now for that ulster! Off it goes!
How did you get your hands so cold ?"




PROFESSOR DE BOMBAST was heard to remark,
" For saccharine food I have feelings of odium;
And whenever I eat
Potatoes and meat,
I like them well seasoned with chloride of

His neighbors all said that, clearly enough,
His complexion was spoiled by such poisonous
Though any young chemist with good powers of
Might prove to the neighbors 't is excellent
seasoning. .



I 'D always shine on holidays,
Were I the sun;
On sleepy heads I 'd never gaze,
But focus all my morning rays
On busy folks of bustling ways,
Were I the sun.
VoL. XXII.- 36.

I would not melt a sledding snow,
Were I the sun;
Nor spoil the ice where skaters go,
Nor help those useless weeds to grow,
But hurry melons on, you know,
Were I the sun.

I 'd warm the swimming-pool just right,
Were I the sun;
On school-days I would hide my light,
The Fourth I 'd always give you bright,
Nor set so soon on Christmas night,
Were I the sun.

I would not heed such paltry toys,
Were I the sun-
Such work as grown-up men employs;
But I would favor solid joys,-
In short, I 'd run the world for boys,
Were I the sun!



"SAM, shut the shutter," Mother Hyde
Called, with her cap-strings all a-flutter.
"I've shut the shutter," Sam replied;
"And I can't shut it any shutter."

Malcolm Do"glas

---_--- ---,- F course, his name was "Jim." If there ever was a
tame crow with any other name, I should like to
hear of it.
/ N> His parents one spring went to housekeeping in an
old oak-tree, in that part of Ohio which is known as
I the Western Reserve. They had just come from the
South, after a grand wedding that had been attended
S I by all the Crows of their tribe, and they were so
charmed with the country that they determined to
spend their honeymoon in the oak.
"You can see, my dear," Mr. Crow said to his
wife, that the tree is extremely difficult to climb, so
that our nest will be quite safe from any designing
-- j^ "Yes, my dear," said Mrs. Crow. "Let us set
about building it at once. It will be so delightful to
have a home of our own.
So no time was lost in the construction of a nest that had every
modern, convenience for crows. It was beautiful building weather.
By and by there were four eggs in the nest. Every one hatched, and Mr. and Mrs. Crow
were delighted. They stuffed their young with the finest earthworms that.the market afforded,
and at the first suggestion of pin-feathers they were as proud and happy as your parents
were when you were beginning to have your first tooth. They had such a keen sense for the ri-
diculous, that every time they came home and saw those four fuinn. featherless heads, with mouths
wide agape, looking east, west, north, and south, they wQi -crea3m out, "Ha! ha.! ha!"
"I hope none of them will ever be afraid of a scarecriw," said the fond father fervently.
"When they are old enough, I shall teach them how to go into a farmer's corn-field, and
keep just a yard out of gunshot."
Now, close beside the oak there grew a beech-tree. When they built their nest, Mr. and
Mrs. Crow had never once given the beech-tree a thought. It was very easy to climb, and after
one had got to the top, it was possible by means of a long pole to dislodge the nest from
the other tree.
That is precisely what was done one day. Down fluttered the four young crows to the
ground, while their outraged parents circled about in helpless consternation. But no amount
of cawing could prevent this wholesale abduction. It is to be hoped that with their other
offspring they were more fortunate, and that all lived to be a comfort to them in their old age.



Two of the young crows that were taken
captive lived. One turned out to be a rather
stupid fellow, with nothing to distinguish him
but his voracious appetite. It was very evident
that the particular Jim of whom I write was the
brilliant member of the family; he had brains
enough for a whole regiment of crows:
His was a most forgiving disposition, I ima-
gine, for he soon grew very fond of his abduc-
tor. Think of your ever liking any one who
had stolen you from your parents! Perhaps
he was too young at the time to know the
At all events, he thrived amazingly on the
earthworms and the shreds of raw meat that
were fed to him. When he was clothed in
a regulation jet-black suit, his wings were
clipped so that he could not take French leave
and fly away. This was a needless precaution,
however. Jim was too much attached to his
surroundings ever to leave them willingly.
When it was thought that he could be trusted
implicitly, his wings were allowed to grow so
that he could fly anywhere he liked.
Strangely enough, there was nothing of which
he stood so much in fear as crows themselves.
Often they would come perilously near and
"caw" at him. Helter-skelter he would fly
to the house, and his relief was plainly mani-
fested when he was safe inside the kitchen.
Their wild life evidently
had no charm for him.
He was in terror of large
snakes, too, but small ones
he gobbled up as fast as
he could. It was a most
effectual way of prevent-
ing them from frighten-
ing him when they grew
No attention was given
to his education, but at .
last we discovered that .<./'7, >g i
he could repeat a word .- / '
or phrase of a conver-
sation he had just heard.
He could laugh like a
human being, and imitate
the cackling of a hen.
"Stop!" "Hello!" "Hold "HE WOULD SHOUT OUT 'S

on!" were favorite expressions of his, and
generally his use of them was intelligent.
He liked to perch on top of the barn and
shout out "Stop!" at the farmers who went
by in their wagons. If they reined in their
horses, thinking it was some person who
had called them, the success of his little joke
would cause Jim to burst into immoderate
He actually enjoyed being snowballed. He
would stand upon an old tree-stump, and look
saucily at the boys, as much as to say, Come,
now, here 's a good shot! Why don't you hit
me ?" But Jim was always too quick for them.
No boy ever could hit him. He would dodge
like lightning, laughing hoarsely as the ball
flew harmlessly past or broke in pieces on the
other side of the stump. Then up he would
hop again, with another challenge, ready for
the next snowball.
He was not afraid of a gun. He would stand
close by while one was being loaded, and it
could be fired off a number
of times without having A
any perceptible effect
on him. But he
was keenly alive
to its danger,
and the very -
moment -

i Ir / .* /


the muzzle was pointed at him he lost no time When the chickens were being fed, he stole
in getting out of the way. their food. But one day their resentment was
SJim was a very mischievous crow indeed, shown in a combined assault upon him. There
was no chance to escape,
for he'was hemmed in on
/ all sides. The odds were
ctoo terrific,- a hundred
S- to one,-so he lay upon
his back, clawing wildly,
S-- e hand squawking-with his
Might and main. If some
one had not rushed at
once to his assistance,
Jim would have been a
dead crow. As it was, he
lost a good many feathers.
He boldly pillaged
the neighbors round. A
woman who lived near
once caught him pecking
at a pot-cheese she had
made, and put him to
-- flight. He returned, and
stole a downy little
chicken, one of a brood
that belonged to her. He
"5 flew home with it, and
"HE ACTUALLY ENJOYED BEING SNOWBALLED.' laid it upon the ground,
but alive and unharmed.

When Grace, the baby, was learning to walk,
he would seize her slyly by the dress, and cause
her to fall. He would peck at the toes of the
barefooted children who came for water, and
laugh heartily as he drove them dismayed from
the yard. Sometimes he would steal unnoticed
down into the cellar. The blows he could give
with his beak had the force of a small hammer,
so that it was a very easy matter for him to
turn the spigot of a barrel. One was pretty apt
to discover after such a visit that all the vinegar
had run out on the floor.
He destroyed a great many eggs. Whenever
he heard a hen cackle, he would start at once
for the barn to examine the nest. One of the
boys would start, too, at the same time, and it
would be a race between Jim and him for the
egg. Finally, when patience had ceased to be
a virtue, a good old-fashioned switching was ad-
ministered to Jim. After that he never touched
another egg.

There were plenty of young chickens running
about at home, but Jimri never would touch one
of these.
Anything bright and shining pleased his
fancy very much. He had no scruples about
taking what did not belong to him. Like a
miser, he had a hiding-place for his treasures,
and he was very careful not to go to it when
he was watched. One day it was discovered
in the barm quite by accident. Among other
articles that he had secreted were found nails,
screws, beads, bits of broken glass, and, best
of all, a pair of earrings-and this strange
collection was the grand result of months of
patient thievery!
It was very difficult to keep a lead-pencil in
his vicinity. When he stole one, he would
hold it in his claw, and peck at it until the
cedar wood was split in twain, after which he
would remove the lead. If some one endea-
vored to take the pencil from him, he would

x895.] JIM: A TAME CROW. 285

dodge about, making desperate but ineffectual ary one indeed to have tempted the possessors
efforts to swallow his booty whole, of this clever crow to part with him. So the
Jim's droll pranks amused the people for man went away, and never returned.
miles around. Every one knew him, and liked Poor Jim Crow! It may be that. he was
him. The comedy.instinct was strong in him, abducted a second time: If so, and he is liv-
and he seemed to enjoy playing the part of a ing still, I wonder where! What new tricks
buffoon. Sometimes he would go down to has he added to his cunning store, what new
one of the village stores, and there, perched words to his modest vocabulary? Is he as
upon a barrel, he would
keep the loungers in a
roar of laughter. He
knew perfectly well that
it was wrong to lounge
in a store. The instant
he noticed any one
from the household of
which he was a member,
he would appear very
crestfallen, and slink off as
though he were ashamed
of being seen in such a
place. AA
And what became of
him ? One day he mys- /
seriously disappeared,
and nothing more was
ever heard of him. It
is not likely that he left
of his own free will, for
he had been in the house-
hold a long time, and had
grown fond of every one.
What made his disap-
pearance suspicious was
pet animals, who occa-
sionally came to the place, had offered recently great a source of amusement as ever ? I am
a large sum for Jim. The offer had been re- sure that the family whom he once used to de-
fused, for it must have been a quite extraordin- light would like very much to.know.

I 'i' .. .. -s2 ':'

r I P .
Mi+, + ,h l,,2. .



[Begun in the November number.]

CITIZEN DAUNOU sat in his office in the
palace of the Prince of Soubise -palace and
prince no longer, however; for the splendid old
mansion in the Street of the Wheatfield,* with
its gardens, its courts, and its arcades, had been
confiscated by the republic, while its princely
owners were fugitives from their home-land,
fighting "the Corsican" in the .armies of the
foes of France.
The old palace was now the Bureau of
Archives, the building in which were kept the
public papers of the Empire. And here, sur-
rounded by dusty documents, curious chroni-
cles, and ancient records, sat the Keeper of the
Archives, the citizen Pierre Daunou. His win-
dows looked out upon the horseshoe-like Court
of the Princes and the pillared porticos that
encircled the garden. A pile of papers was
heaped upon his desk- maps, title-deeds, con-
fiscation-records, and schedules of property
taken by the Emperor from the conquered
countries of Europe that were now dependen-
cies or vassals of the Empire.
Some of these papers were of rare historic
value; some told, by their very presence in that
place, sad stories of persecution, dispossession,
defeat, and loss.
The scholarly old keeper was so immersed
in his study of one of these genealogic finds,"
that he did not hear the little tap for admission,
nor the stealthy invasion of his sanctum that
followed close upon the tap, until two soft
hands imprisoned his eyes. Then, drawing the
hands away, he looked up and saw something
much more attractive than parchments or con-.
fiscation-records. It was Mademoiselle.
So; it is you, truant, is it ?" he cried gaily.
"And who-why-live the people! it is Page

Philip! Is not that now the most singular
chance? Here was I just thinking of you-
just reading the name of Desnouettes. Let me
tell you-but eh? -holo, boy! What gloomy
faces! Why, girl, what is the trouble, you two ?
Is something wrong at home?"
"Not at our home, papa," Mademoiselle
replied; "and Philip has none."
"Has none ? What is all this ?"
"The Emperor has dismissed me from his
service, Citizen Daunou," Philip replied.
"But why?"
"Why," Philip said hesitatingly, "because-
some one has lied to him. Because-"
"Because, papa, we are his friends," Made-
moiselle declared.
Because of us ? No; but is it so; Philip ?"
Citizen Daunou demanded, as if incredulous.
"Has, then, your friendship with my house
brought you to grief? Tell me; tell me, boy."
Then Philip told the story of his disgrace.
He declared, too, that the dismissal was so sud-
den and bewildering that he had made neither
plea nor protest in reply, but had simply with-
drawn from the palace and, quite dazed by the
blow, had wandered about the streets until his
feet had instinctively turned down the Street
of the Fight. Instinctively, too, he had en-
tered the house of his friends, and there he had
found Mademoiselle and quick sympathy. For
thus unloading his woes on his friends he asked
Citizen Di unou's pardon, but-
"My pardon?" the old man exclaimed.
"Why, Philip boy, I ought rather -to ask it of
you. You do but suffer for me-for us."
"There! That is what I told Philip, papa,"
Mademoiselle cried triumphantly; "and straight-
way dragged him here -an unwilling captive.
I told him you would see him righted."
"See him righted-I? I see him-Why!-
one moment, you There, there; let me think.
So eh why, of course! Come; run home,

*Rue du Chaume.


you young folks, and let me think it out -let
me think it--death of my life! but I see a light."
"But, Citizen," Philip began, "I ought
not :'
"Will you obey me, Philip,--and vanish-
you and Mademoiselle there ?" the Keeper of
the Archives said, almost forcing them from the
room. How can I think if you children stay
here-chatter, chatter, chatter? Out on you,
miscreants! blocking all work in the public
offices. Come; go, go!-go home, and do not
fret until I tell you to."
"My faith, though! Is he not a terrible
old mustache, Philip ?" Mademoiselle cried, in
mock terror. "Come, let us be gone before he
eats us both this ogre in his castle,, here. I
told you he could manage it all--you wise old
papa!" Here she dismayed the "ogre" with a
rush, a hug, and a kiss. "Come you, Philip,
let us go and see Babette."
"Yes; go anywhere, anywhere, giddy ones,"
said the Keeper of the Archives. Go and see
Babette. Ah! stop yet. This Babette, Philip-"
here he looked at the parchment on his desk
once more-"is she, perhaps, your sister?"
"My sister? Babette?" Philip replied. "My
faith! I think not, Citizen Daunou. She is
Mother Th6rese's daughter; or so I have always
"You do not know, though, eh ?" Citizen
Daunou said. Is she is she here he
looked at the document again-"is she of your
"My age? Oh, no, Citizen," Philip answered
with the laugh of superiority. "Why! I am
fourteen, and as for Babette-Babette is barely
"Ah, so ? That is bad; that is- well, well--
I was only curious. There, there, run along;
such chatterers, you two! Wasting the Em-
peror's time!"
"And now we are chatterers! Philip! But
what then, Monsieur Keeper.of the Archives?
Come away, Philip; for he is dangerous.
Good day, ogre! and the laughing Mademoi-
selle dragged the ex-page from the room.
For a full half hour after the young people
had left him, Citizen Daunou sat at his desk,
studying the paper that lay open before him,
and thinking intently. Then rising, he drew on

his long street-coat, thrust the paper in his
pocket, flung his chapeau on his head, and, hail-
ing a cab at the door of the Bureau of Archives,
drove straight to the Tuileries.
Meantime, Philip and Mademoiselle had
given up their plan of calling upon Babette,
because it was not visitors' day at the convent
school. So they had wandered up the dirty
Street of St. Denis, swarming with people; they
strolled along the Boulevards, stopping now to
watch and wonder at a juggler's free show on
the street, now to pity and pay the baby tam-
bourine-player by the rising walls of the new
Exchange, or now to watch the- boys at a game
of prisoners' base in the Place Vend6me. Then,
after planning an afternoon picnic in the Bou-
logne woods, Mademoiselle was left at the
house in the Street of the Fight, to which Philip
was to return when he had executed her com-
missions at certain of the shops in the Palace
As for-his troubles, they did not worry Philip
overmuch. From despair he had been raised
to hope, for he had faith in Citizen Daunou;
and then, too, he was a boy- and boys. cast
off such troubles easily.
As he made his way toward the Palace Royal
and was crossing the new and splendid Street of
Rivoli, there fell on his ears a sharp order of the
Aside there; way for the Empress "
Philip saw the dashing outriders, a mounted
escort, and then the open carriage drawn by
four horses. He recognized the Empress sitting
smiling within, and, as the imperial carriage
rolled past, Philip, true to his old custom, drew
up and saluted the Empress. She saw him,
and, turning, suddenly beckoned him to her
side. Philip, still acting according to custom,
ran alongside-and, hat in hand, sprang to the
step of the carriage, which did not even need
to slacken its speed for him.
"It is you, Page Desnouettes? Go to the
Emperor. Tell him I have changed my mind;
and drive to the Little Trianon instead of St.
Cloud. Bid him meet me there this afternoon."
Thus ran the commands of the Empress to the
"But, yotlr Majesty-" Philip began.
"How, boy!" cried the young Empress;


"'but' to me? What would you say? Are
you on service in another direction ?"
"Alas! your Majesty," Philip sadly replied,
"I am on -no service at all; nor can I be. I
am no longer page. I-I-have been dis-
Dismissed ? You- my good page ? the
Empress exclaimed. "But why? Ah, Ma-
dame the Countess, would you permit the
page to enter? I wish to question him. So;
many thanks. Now tell me the story, Page
And so it came to pass that the disgraced
page drove along the street of Rivoli in the
carriage of the Empress.
Frankly and briefly he told the story.
Ah, that terrible ball! And you saved the
girl; and her father is grateful to you? And
he is Keeper of the Archives ? How can he
then be untrue to the Emperor he serves? And
it was Fouch6 who brought you to grief? Ah,
that Fouche-I do not like him overmuch";
this, half to herself. Then she said: "And it
is not true, is it, you boy ? You are no enemy
to the Emperor ? "
"Madame-your Majesty, I would die for
him," Philip declared.
I knew it. You shall live for him," the
Empress said. "Here, lend me your tablets.
So!" And she dashed off a hurried line. This
to the Emperor. If that does not answer, I
will see him myself. Why, you once saved
his life, so he said. Now we must save you.
There, begone, young Desnouettes. I am your
friend. And do not forget my own message to
the Emperor. This afternoon at the Trianon."
The gracious young Empress gave the page
her hand to kiss. The page clambered to the
carriage-step, saluted his mistress, and sprang
nimbly to the street, while the Empress and
her escort sped on to Versailles and the beau-
tiful Trianons, eleven miles away.
"Two good friends for me," Philip pleased
himself with thinking as he hurried back to the
Tuileries. You are in luck, you page."

In the study of the Emperor the Keeper of
the Archives had gained an audience with
Ah, Monsieur Daunou,-pardon me,"-this

a bit sarcastically,-" Citizen Daunou,-you are
welcome. Foes as well as friends may be wel-
comed, may they not, Citizen ?"
"I trust, Sire, your Majesty does not count
me among your foes," Citizen Daunou said.
"Well, call it opponents then," the Emperor
replied. But I believe you, sir, are a faith-
ful servant of the Empire, even though you do
decline my gifts and gather my opponents under
your roof. What is your pleasure ? "
I come, Sire, to expiate a crime," Citizen
Daunou asserted.
"So; it has come to that, has it ? Napoleon
declared. You regret these gatherings, then,
do you?"
"I regret, Sire, that they are deemed un-
friendly by you," replied the Keeper of the
Archives. "Whoever has asserted that they
are disloyal is no friend to the truth. But
even such friendly reunions as these gatherings
have seriously injured in your Majesty's eyes
one-who is your Majesty's most devoted ser-
vant and most outspoken champion."
Meaning yourself, Citizen Keeper? "
"I mean young Philip Desnouettes, Sire."
"Ha! that boy ?"
Yes, Sire.. He saved my dear little daughter
that fearful night at the Embassy ball," the
Keeper of the Archives explained. My heart
and home have been free to him ever since.
It seems-my love for the lad has worked his
ruin. Sire, I plead for his recall."
S"So! He has been whining to you of my
displeasure ?" the Emperor exclaimed.
"Sire, young Desnouettes never whines. He
is too manly a lad too devoted to you, for
that. I heard of his trouble against his will.
I ask his recall, not only as an act of justice,
such as your Majesty is ever willing to do, but
as the payment of a debt which I well know
your Majesty will not repudiate."
"How? A debt?" the Emperor said. What
is it you mean, sir ? "
"This, Sire." And the Keeper of the Archives
drew from his pocket the document he had
placed there. "Singularly enough," he said,
"just at the moment the lad was brought to
me I was reading here his name--or rather
that of his father."
"The emigre Desnouettes? "

__ ___ 1___1 _l___il_ __ _1~1 __ ~__I~ ___ __ _~___ ~________



"Yes, Sire-the emigre, and your prophet."
"My prophet!" The Emperor looked at
the Keeper in wonderment. "You speak in
riddles, sir."
"No riddle, Sire, but a plain and recorded
fact," replied the Keeper. Permit me. Here
is the deed of confiscation recorded against the
estates of the suspected Citizen Augustin Des-
nouettes of Riom, executed for contempt of the
decrees of the Directory in May, 1796. Here,

for the Republic lay in the success of Citizen General
Bonaparte, for whose welfare he devoutly prayed, and
to whose kind remembrance he confided the future of
his motherless children "

His children? There was but this boy,"
the Emperor said.
"So I thought, Sire; but here is the record:

'-his motherless children, who would be left orphans
by their father's death.'

'" W '''' : ; --if -. "" "i i .,, n i

*5r f.$ "

.,' / r 1,',' i 4

"_ __ __ .c- .--, '- ... __ ,4 _- 4. --,1 ---. _-- _J ,. ,

attached to it, are the minutes of his trial. In
these it appears that the Suspect Citizen Au-
gustin Desnouettes lost his head for prophesy-
ing that the only savior of France would be
General Bonaparte."
"How, sir ? Is this the fact ?"
"Listen, Sire." And the Keeper of the
Archives read from the minutes:

"And the said Suspect, the imigr! Augustin Desnou-
ettes, did, of his own motion, seek to cast discredit upon
the Directory by maintaining that it was powerless to
save France from disruption, and that the only salvation
VOL. XXII.-37.

And here, appended to the deed, is this
'By order of the Directory the twin children of the
demigr Augustin Desnouettes are to be bound over to
the Citizen Jules Rapin of the Street of the Washerwomen
in the Fourth Ward of Paris, and to the Cit -'
Here, Sire, the record ends, for the rest is
The Emperor took the paper and examined
it minutely.
"Bah, the incapables!" he said, at last.
"How heedless those fellows were under that



sheep-like Directory! To file papers so care-
lessly See; it has been torn off."
"So I think, Sire-either carelessly or for a
purpose," the Keeper of the Archives said.
"Twin children," mused Napoleon. "Then
where is the other ? And was it boy or girl ?"
"That, Sire, I too would know."

the handwriting of the Empress: "For my
sake recall Page Desnouettes. He is my chosen
page, you remember. LOUISE."
"With so powerful an advocate, Sire," the
Keeper of the Archives said, "my words are
not needed."

"The Empress has


"See to it; see to it, Citizen Daunou," the
Emperor commanded. It is work for such a
shrewd searcher as you. Ferret out the mystery
and let me know. I, too, would- Well, sir,
what is this?" For at that moment the First
Page, Malvirade, handed him a folded paper.
"From the Empress?" Then he opened the
slip, read it, frowned, laughed, and handed it to
the Keeper of the Archives. See: it rains pleas
for young Desnouettes! Read it, Daunou."
And Citizen Daunou read with surprise, in

her way, generally," Na-
poleon said. "Who
brought this, Malvi-
rade ?"
Page Desnouettes,
Sire," the First Page
replied. "And also a
verbal message from
the Empress."
Bid him enter -
or no; wait without
until I summon you.
Then to the Keeper
the Emperor said:
"I was perhaps hasty,
Daunou- hasty and
worried, I think, with
weightier matters. I
like the boy, too; but
Fouch6 ah, well!
Fouch6 is not always
to be depended upon.
I will see to the
lad's recall. And,
come, my friend:
think better of the
Emperor. Believe
that I, too, would
serve France quite
as sincerely yes,
more sincerely than
even you stern old
relics of the Revolu-

tion, who can see no further than the glorious
days of '92."
And, rising, the Emperor laid his hand al-
most affectionately on Daunou's shoulder.
"Sire," the stout old republican responded,
"my service and loyalty go together. I serve
you as Keeper of the Archives. In that service
I trust you will believe that duty and loyalty
go hand in hand."
"I believe you, Daunou; I believe you! "
the Emperor replied; though I know you do


not love my methods. Be loyal still. Serve
France. And I am France! "
Citizen Daunou found it hard to rein in his
protest at this imperial announcement. But
he bowed in adieu, saying nothing. And the
Emperor added: "Trace up the other child
of the emigre Desnouettes, my friend. That
mystery must be unraveled. I, who would
be just to my foes, must be generous to my
friends. This Desnouettes, it would appear,
almost died for me. His son must be my
charge. But, silence in this matter, my friend,
until something is reached. Let me know of
your progress. The best of luck to your
hunting! "
The Keeper of the Archives left, and the
page was summoned.
So, rascal! the Emperor said, stern of eye
and voice, "you go about complaining, do
you? You work on the sympathies of both
republican and Empress, eh?"
No, Sire," Philip replied; "I sought neither.
But Citizen Daunou learned of my dismissal,
and the Empress stopped me in the street to
bid me take a message to your Majesty, and
thus she, too, learned my story."
"Well, sir; her message."
Philip delivered it.
"Little Trianon, eh ?" Napoleon said. "Very
well; and you, sir, make ready to attend me
"As page-or-prisoner, Sire?" the boy
"You young monkey! And the Emperor
pulled Philip's hair roughly, but in token of
good humor. "As page, I suppose, since my
will is thus openly set at naught. And see that
you do good service, you page."
"And-am I debarred from visiting my
friends, Sire?" the boy persisted.
"What! When you champion my cause so
roundly in the very camp of the enemy ?" re-
plied the Emperor. No, no, you boy; I make
you-see, 't is a good creation!-Hereditary
Champion to the Emperor! See to it, young
Desnouettes, that, as it was in the knightly
days, my champion is fearless, loyal, brave,
and true. Now, go; report your recall to
Malvirade, and in two hours attend me to the

Philip kissed the Emperor's hand joyfully,
and ten minutes later was working off his sur-
plus spirits by playing leap-frog up and down
the corridor with six spry young pages. Then,
in his most lordly style, he despatched one of
the porters of the palace in haste to the Street
of the Fight, bearing a message of regret to
Mademoiselle, that "a special engagement with
the Emperor" would make it necessary to de-
fer the pleasure of a picnic in the Boulogne
woods until a more convenient season.

THE trip to the Trianon was a red-letter day
for Philip. The English garden, the Swiss vil-
lage, and the little theater, forever associated
with the sad story of Marie Antoinette, were
new and agreeable sights for this boy who had
open eyes for everything.
The Emperor was gracious and even gay;
the Empress had a kind word for the boy she
had not forgotten; and Philip, quick to cast
sorrow aside, enjoyed the passing moment,
attended faithfully upon his imperial patrons,
and yet managed to "take in" all the sights
that have made forever famous this celebrated
"annex to the splendid palace of Versailles.

The days flew by. Philip did remember his
dismissal and reinstatement sufficiently to stir
himself up to'such a desire to show his gratitude
to the Emperor and Empress, that Citizen Dau-
nou cautioned him against over-exertion; and
Uncle Fauriel, who was less vituperative after
he found how nearly he had brought the boy
into trouble, nevertheless declared that Philip
was fairly running his legs off for "the Corsi-
can," and stated his intention of applying at
the palace for the position of Philip's sub-
stitute, so that he might work off some of his
superfluous flesh.
The picnic in the Boulogne woods came about
in due time. Babette was there, and so, too,
were Citizen Daunou and Uncle Fauriel. And
whom should the children meet in their wan-
derings in the woods, but the Emperor and
Empress, walking about like any goodman
and his wife," and not close hedged by all the


h. U -

-f ~ ~ .-: I': Lr -

j, ',* .

i- 5~

'' ii



-_. fc>


state and escort that usually environed them in
their outings around Paris.
They recognized Philip, and stopped to speak
with the children. The Emperor questioned
Babette about her schooling, and had some-
thing kindly to say to Mademoiselle about her
escape from the Embassy; he pinched and
petted the little girls, and rumpled all the order
and dignity out of Philip's yellow locks, until
Babette lost her timidity and laughed aloud at
the imperial pranks, while Mademoiselle was so
charmed with both the "royalties that, after
hearing her enthusiastic talk, Uncle Fauriel de-
clared the house in the Street of the Fight would
be contaminated by her "imperialism," and
vowed that he would have to desert it for some
red republican gathering in the St. Denis quar-
ter, or consort with the only real haters of "the
Corsican," the Bourbon exiles beyond the Rhine.
Autumn passed and winter came. Fouch6
was in disgrace. He had been deposed from
his position as Minister of Police for con-
cocting. secret measures contrary to the Em-
peror's will. But Philip, not being specially in-
terested in political plots and moves, was sure
that this was his revenge, and boasted to Uncle
Fauriel that the great Minister of Police had
fallen because he had sought to set the Emperor
against the page.
"Piff, pouf!" puffed Uncle Fauriel, "hear our
cockerel crow! Of course it was so. When
does your Excellency look for the portfolio of
the Minister of Police to be offered you, as
Fouch6's successor?"
"Minister of Police! Mademoiselle ex-
claimed, "Philip would n't look at that position.
He will be-what do you call it?-the Arch-
Chancellor himself some fine day; and then, be
sure, he will banish you, Uncle Fauriel, for talk-
ing treason against the Emperor, and he will
order the Imperial Guard to lead you in chains
to the barrier, or else have you condemned to
stand on one leg on the top of the Vend6me
Column and shout, 'Long live the Emperor!'
until you are hoarse."
March came in that eventful year of 181i;
and when the morning of the twentieth dawned
all Paris was in the streets. For like wild-
fire spread the rumor: there is a baby at the
Tuileries! Every hour the crowd grew denser.

At open windows, along the streets, in the
great garden of the Tuileries, people waited
expectant, listening for the voice of the can-
nons of the Invalid Soldiers' Home to tell
whether the baby was a boy or a girl. Of
course every one hoped it was a boy, for that
meant an heir to the throne of France-their
future Emperor.
At the first boom a mighty silence fell upon
the listening city. Every one stopped, intent,
anxious. One two three, they counted.
Boom, boom went the guns up to nineteen-
twenty-twenty-one. The silence was intense,
the anxiety profound. Twenty-two! There
came a mighty cheer, a roar from thousands
and thousands of throats. Hats were flung
aloft; people cried with joy, and danced and
hugged each other, and cared no more to count,
though the guns boomed away until the full
salute of one hundred and one was fired. For
that twenty-second boom told the story -the
baby at the Tuileries was a boy.
Then, out of the cheering, came the mighty
shout: "Long live the Emperor! Long live
the Empress! Long live the King of Rome!"
For that was to be the title of this baby prince,
whose mother was an empress, whose father
was greater than a king.
Philip was in the palace, busy enough. He,
too, at the twenty-second gun-though he of
course had already heard the truth-felt the
inspiration of excitement, and although he
was in the precincts of the palace could, like
"the ranks of Tuscany in Macaulay's famous
a "--scarce forbear to cheer."

But he did not. A page of the palace, on
duty, must be. quiet and circumspect. So
Philip reined in his enthusiasm and, even be-
fore the echo of the one hundred and first gun
had died away, he was holding aside the cur-
tains which fell before the doorway that opened
into the Blue Room. A short, stout man passed
hurriedly between the parted curtains. In his
arms he bore a precious bundle swathed in
richest robes. This man was the Emperor.
Gentlemen," he said to the assembled dig-
nitaries who awaited in the Blue Room the offi-
cial tidings, "I present to you the King of



Down upon one knee, in homage to the im-
perial baby, dropped each man in that glittering
throng of soldiers and statesmen. And as the
little King of Rome lifted his voice in a wail
of welcome, or, perhaps, of protest, there came
from the kneeling throng the triple shout of
loyalty and reverence: Long live the Em-
peror! Long live the Empress! Long live the
King of Rome! "
All day Paris was in a fever of joy. What
they had wished for had happened. An heir


to the throne had been born. The semaphore,
or signal-telegraph, flashed the news from city
on to city; fast-riding couriers, pages, and
messengers bore the official announcement to
distant municipalities and foreign courts; the
people absolutely lived in the streets, talking

over the event on corer and curb, on boule-
vard and in caf6. From a great balloon, that
went up from the Field of Mars, papers were
flung out to the people in commemoration of
the notable event, and a constantly shifting
crowd thronged the garden of the Tuileries,
satisfied simply to gaze upon the palace that
held the heir to the Empire.
The Emperor overflowed with joy. He could
not keep still. He wandered from cradle to
cabinet, now looking at his son, now looking at
his people; and he
who was unmoved
\ by victory on the
' battle-field, and ac-
I. customer to every
Form of popularity
A and adoration, felt
the pride of a father
1 overtop the dignity
of a king. As he
looked at the great
Crowd in the garden,
as he heard the
bells pealing joyfully
from every church-
tower and the guns
thundering in salute,
tears of thankfulness
and joy streamed
down his cheeks.
For the day onwhich
his son was born
was, beyond all
happiest day.
In the evening
Sthe baby prince was
privately christened
in the chapel of the
Tuileries, and to him
was given the sound-
ROME !i ing name of Francis
Charles Joseph Na-
poleon, King of Rome and Heir of France.
Every house in the city, palace and hovel
and lofty apartment-house alike, was brilliantly
illuminated; fireworks flashed and whirled in
every public square; while on the river that
wound in. and out, spanned by its dozen


2 -'- -

bridges, the Seine boatmen celebrated the birth
of the little king by an impromptu river parade,
sparkling with lights and crowned with show
and song.
Philip was a tired boy when night came, for
this had been a busy day. But as, after deliv-
ering a message to the Emperor, he paused for
a moment to look at the imperial baby asleep
in its costly cradle of mother-of-pearl and gold,
above which, as if in protection, hovered a
winged figure of Victory, the Emperor turned
to him and said: "Young Desnouettes, I in-
trust you with a special duty. To-morrow you
shall bear to the Empress Josephine letter an-
nouncing the birth of my son. You shall travel
not as a page of the palace but as a courier of
the King."
Here was an honor! The boy could scarcely
sleep for excitement, anticipation, and joy. The
next morning found him waiting, eager for the
start; and before noon he was speeding across
the country, a special courier, bearing the im-
portant tidings to the ex-Empress Josephine,
who was then at her castle of Navarre, in Nor-
mandy, forty miles away.
What a ride it was! The day was clear and
bright-early spring in France. Through the
streets of the city, still echoing with the joyous
festivities of the day before, the boy rode from


the Tuileries, in a light canopy-carriage known
as a gondola calash. It was drawn by four
spirited horses; a postilion in imperial livery
rode one of each pair of horses, and there was
an equerry on the box.
Over the Seine and out into the open coun-
try, along the highroad that led to Evreux, the
swift conveyance dashed, with the right of way
on all the route, changing horses every ten
miles, while the postilion's horn rang out the
warning of approach, and the cry, In the
name of the Emperor!" kept the highway
clear. In town and village and from quaint
little roadside homes throngs came out to stare
and shout and cheer, for all the people recog-
nized the imperial livery, and knew that the boy
in the carriage was a royal page riding on the
Emperor's service.
Night was shutting down as, past the scat-
tered lights of Evreux town, Philip rode into
the forest shadows, through which gleamed at
last the lights of the royal chAteau.
The calash drew up at the door; the boy
alighted, and then, ascending the steps between
a double file of flickering torches held by light-
bearers, Philip, the Courier of the King of Rome,
entered the palace.
He felt as important as if he were the Em-
peror himself. And yet, what do you suppose
he was thinking? "My faith! don't I wish
that pig of a Pierre, who used to call me 'mud
prince' when I lived in the Street of the Wash-



erwomen, could see me now! Would n't his
eyes stick out, though? I am as good as a
prince, I am. Room for the Courier of the
King! "
This, however, was but the thought of an
instant. He was really impressed with his mis-
sion, and anxious to deliver his message worthily
and well.
He bowed to the majordomo who received
him. From the Emperor," he said; "a mes-
sage to her Majesty. In haste."
With a formal bow, but with a half wink and
a twinkle of the eye as he "sized up" this
youthful bit of importance, the majordomo
ushered the courier into the reception-room and
despatched a page to announce his arrival to
the Empress.
The summons soon came: "Admit the
messenger from the Emperor." And Philip
passed on.
In the chief salon (or reception room) of this
small palace of Navarre, Josephine awaited the
messenger from the court. Once an Empress,
and wife to the Emperor, she still, though sep-
arated from him by the cruel necessities of state
policy and the imperial succession, held his
honor and esteem. By her side sat her guest
of honor, Prince Eugene Beauharnais, Viceroy
of Italy, her dearly loved son, and around her
were grouped the ladies and gentlemen of her
At a signal, the .doors of the salon were
flung open; the Master of Ceremonies an-
nounced, "From the Emperor! Then, in his
imperial livery of crimson, green, and gold,
plentifully sprinkled with the imperial bees, with
his light-green shoulder-knot and streamers
fringed with gold and stamped with the eagle
and the N in his hand his black-and-gold
chapeau, decorated with its tricolor cockade
and lined with white feathers-enter Philip the
Josephine greeted him with the smile that
won so many to her side.
It is young Desnouettes, is it not ?" she said.
"Yes, your Majesty," Philip replied, bowing
I remember you well," said the Empress.
"It was you--was it not ?- with whom my
grandson, poor little Prince Napoleon, once had

so good a time under the chestnut-trees of
St. Cloud? "
"Yes, your Majesty," Philip replied, all the
time struggling to detach his letter from beneath
his crimson vest, where he had stowed it for
greater security.
Poor boy He had fastened the Emperor's
letter too securely. He tugged, and worked, and
grew very red in the face, thinking all the time,
"What a fool I was not to have taken it out
while I was waiting below! "
But the Empress, true to her kindly nature,
seemed not to notice the boy's discomfiture, and
talked steadily to him as he worked. At last
the note was detached, and, dropping upon his
knee, the boy presented it to the Empress.
From the Emperor, your Majesty," he said.
Josephine took the letter eagerly, and accom-
panied by her son, Prince Eugene, withdrew
to read it, while Philip, left in the salon, was
the center of attraction, and gave a glowing
account of the festivities in Paris. But when
the ladies asked eagerly how the little King
looked, Philip stammered, rubbed his ear, and
said, Oh, I don't know. The cradle is beauti-
ful, and it is. true he is fine -but, my faith!
so small- and so red!"
When the Empress returned, she too talked
with the boy. Then came dancing and games
and general conversation, in all of which Philip
was included as an especial guest, and did
have such a good time" !
Tea was served at eleven, and then the Em-
press retired. But first she sent for Philip, and
gave him a letter. "This for the Emperor,"
she said; and added, with a merry twinkle in
her eye, Keep it as safe and secure as you kept
the other." Then she handed him a packet.
"This for yourself," she said, "as one who bore
good tidings. You will be going early in the
morning, young Desnouettes. Thank you for
your faithful duty. I shall report it to the Em-
peror. Be a loyal page, my boy. Serve the
Emperor faithfully; so shall you best serve
Philip kissed her extended hand, bowed, and
retired. But, before he slept, his eager hands
opened the parcel. He started with surprise
and joy. The Empress had given the bearer
of good tidings" a splendid diamond hat-



buckle worth, so we are assured by the rec-
ord, fully a thousand dollars.
Philip was wild with delight; for he dearly
loved beautiful things.
He was up and away early the next morn-
ing, delighted with his reception, proud of his
success, and more than ever in love with the
kind-hearted and unfortunate lady whom men
still called the Empress Josephine.
Merrily his relays of horses hurried his light
calash over the highway. Through town and
village, as before, he rode in haste,-"In the
name of the Emperor giving him the right of
way. But when he reached St. Germain, he
found himself ahead of schedule time, and bade
the equerry direct the postilions to change the
route, and, crossing the Seine, swing around so
as to enter Paris by the St. Denis gate. Across
country to St. Denis he rode, and, passing be-
neath the noble arch that spanned the gate, he
entered the city.
Philip felt like a conqueror making a royal
progress as he rode down the long and dirty
Street of St. Denis the Bowery of old Paris.
Street boys hailed him with cheers; venders of-
fered him their wares, from waffles to hot pota-
toes; people stopped and stared; and still he
had the right of way.
Then a great desire filled the boy's heart.
He would go to the palace by the way of the
Street of the Washerwomen. That would make
the triumph of his trip complete. The people
of the quarter should see that the mud prince
had become a real prince. If only now "that
pig of a Pierre" could see him!

So, obedient to his instructions, the postil-
ions turned off from the Street of St. Denis into
the Street of the Needlemakers,* and thence
into the Street of the Washerwomen. The well-
remembered street of his boyhood was but a
narrow thoroughfare, scarcely twelve feet wide,
with barely room for two carriages to pass each
It was as dirty as ever, and so were its peo-
ple. And what a shout they raised as the im-
perial carriage whirled along the narrow street!
Pigs scampered, children scattered, dogs barked,
and on rode Philip like a prince in state.
But, alas! pride goes before a fall. Just
before he reached the fountain which was at
once the scene and monument of his famous
fight with "that pig of a Pierre," bang! went
the carriage against some unseen obstacle, off
flew the wheel, and out of the carriage where
he rode in state went the Courier of the King-
head first into the dirty street! The crowd
rushed to the rescue. Officious hands picked
up the prostrate page, and brushed from his
fine clothes the mud of the Street of the Wash-
erwomen. The wheel was readjusted; the boy
took his seat again, angry and crestfallen; the
postilions started their horses. But when, sud-
denly thinking of his mission, Philip clapped
a hand to his pocket to make sure that the let-
ter and the buckle were safe, a cold sweat broke
out all over the startled page. Frantically he
prodded himself in every spot; feverishly he
felt in every pocket. It was all to no purpose.
The letter and the diamond buckle both were

(To be continued.)

* Rue des Aiguilliers.



" I SAY good night and go up-stairs,
And then undress and say my prayers
Beside my bed, and then jump in it,
And then--the very nextest minute,
VOL. XXII.-38.

The morning sun comes in to peep
At me. I s'pose I 've been to sleep.
But seems to me," said little Ted,
"It's not worth while to go to bed."





I DREAMED (we scribbling folk, you know,
Have funny dreams sometimes,
Else, pray, how could we spin our yarns
And weave our merry rhymes?)

I thought two proud and fond mamas
Each on a bright spring day
Went walking with her little girl,
As happy mothers may.

Now one before the other went
Some fifty years or more,
And you may guess how different were
The gowns and hats they wore.

A roguish elf-the kind, you know,
That only live in dreams-
Observed the sight, and laughed to see
Dame Fashion's odd extremes.

"Ho, ho!" he cried. "A little trick
I '11 play these pretty dears!"

And in a twinkling he exchanged
The children and their years.

Each little daughter tripped demure
Beside the wrong mama,
Who all unconscious sauntered on
With eyes that looked afar.

Until, just where the cross-roads meet,
Down glancing as she smiled,
With start and frown each wondering dame
Beheld her changeling child.

Alas! what looks of dire dismay!
What woeful, shocked surprise!
That fairy laughed until the tears
Stood in his elfin eyes.

But when the little damsels wept
To see their mothers' pain,
Repenting of his naughty prank,
He changed them back again.



And, as I woke, two fond mamas,
Still pale with such a fright,
Each holding fast her daughter's hand,
Went whisking out of sight.



[Begun in the December number.

CHRIS returned to his room in a state of
mind bordering on despair. The wonderful
lamp was now, undoubtedly, in the possession
of another; the genie's allegiance had been
transferred to some one who, the boy told him-
self, was sure to make a better use of the power
than he had. Through a strange combination
of circumstances, the lamp had brought him
nothing but misfortune; but its new owner
might outdo Aladdin in the accomplishment
of his ambitious desires.
"But the chances are he '11 never find out
what kind of a lamp it is," reflected the lad.
"Professor Huxter did n't-that 's sure; and
he had the lamp maybe fifty years. I '11 ad-
vertise for it in the Dusenbury Bugle, offer a
reward of a hundred dollars, and make the

genie pay it. No, I won't, either; that would
make the fellow that found it suspicious, and
he might think of rubbing it. I '11 just say
'a suitable reward.' I '11 take the advertise-
ment to the Bugle office the first thing in the
morning. And now, as I can't do anything
more to-night, I may as well go to sleep."
But this was more easily said than done.
Though Chris was usually in the Land of Nod
within a very few seconds after his head
touched the pillow, it was almost daylight
before he sank into an uneasy slumber
filled with dreams in which his father and Pro-
fessor Thwacker and the genie conspicuously
He was awakened by a succession of raps
upon his door, and his father's voice, saying:
Chris, it is eight o'clock."
I '11 be right down, sir," responded the
boy, springing out of bed.


"Open the door," said Mr. Wagstaff; "there
is some one here who wants to see you."
"Who is it ? asked Chris, in surprise.
"It's Doctor Ingalls," was the reply, in his
mother's voice. "He wants to have a little
talk with you, Chris."
Wondering what in the world this could
mean, the boy unlocked and opened the door.
His mother fluttered in, followed by his father
and the doctor. The faces of all three showed
Chris that something unusual had happened, or
was about to happen.
"Nothing the matter, is there ?" he asked,
with wide-open eyes.
"My dear boy," cried his mother, go right
back to bed. You might catch cold, and, in
your present condition, who can tell what the
result would be! How do you feel?"
Pretty well," replied the bewildered boy, as
he jumped into bed. I did n't sleep very well,
"That's natural," said Doctor Ingalls, in the
queer, cracked voice that always made Chris
laugh. "It is just what I expected."
Oh, doctor," began Mrs. Wagstaff, "you
don't think-"
No, I don't-nothing of the sort," inter-
rupted the physician. "Don't be frightened,
ma'am," he -added,- stepping to the bedside.
"Well, how are we this morning, Chris?"
"Why, I 'm all right," said Chris. "What's
the matter ?"
Nothing is the matter, nothing whatever,"
returned the doctor, trying so hard to wink
slyly at Mr. Wagstaff, that the boy could not
help seeing him. "And of course you 're all
right. Have n't been troubled with headaches
lately, have you, now ?"
"Why, no," answered Chris. "Sometimes
when I 've studied very hard I have had
a headache; but-"
Ah, that 's just it; that's just what I 'm try-
ing to get at," interposed Doctor Ingalls, with
a meaning glance at Chris's parents. Some-
times when you study very hard you have a
headache. Exactly. Now, you 've een study-
ing pretty hard lately, have n't you ?"
Not very," replied the boy.
Oh, yes, I think you have," said the old
physician. Fanny told me only a day or two

ago that you were so far advanced in algebra
that you could stump ahem! I mean that
you could puzzle-even Professor Cipher; and
he is a mathematician of no mean ability. Yes,
Christopher, I fancy you have been overdoing
your studying of late."
Here Mrs. Wagstaff interposed.
Chris," she said, taking the boy's hand ten-
derly in her own, "your father and I had a
long talk about you last night, and we thought
that maybe you had been working too hard; -
and so we made up our minds to consult Doc-
tor Ingalls about giving you a little vacation.
After two or three weeks' rest, I 'm sure you '11
be all right again."
"Why, I 'm all right now," declared Chris,
sitting up in bed. "Of course I should n't
mind a vacation, but I don't believe that I
need it."
"It will do you no harm," said the doctor,
"provided you do not over-exert yourself. I
must also impress upon your mind the ne-
cessity of allowing nothing to excite you. And"
-drawing a vial filled with small white pellets
from his pocket-" take four of these every
"But what do I need to take medicine for?"
asked the boy, in astonishment. "I 'm not
"Ahem! not exactly sick, perhaps, but tired
that 's it, tired," said Doctor Ingalls, who
seemed a little embarrassed. "Perhaps we
might call your complaint neurasthenia--ner-
vous exhaustion."
See here," exclaimed Chris, it is n't possi-
ble, is it, that you think I 'm not right in my
head ? "
"Now, my dear boy," cried his mother, "don't,
don't get excited Of course, we know you 're
all right in your head; but your nerves are a
little unstrung from too much work. Now, if
you '11 stop to think, Chris, dear, you have been
rather erratic of late. (Yes, doctor, I must
speak!) There was that strange story about the
lamp that you told your father and Professor
Thwacker, and afterward contradicted. And
Huldah says you acted in a very singular way
in the kitchen yesterday morning quite unlike
yourself. And when you brought home the
sugar she sent you for, you threw it out of the



window instead of taking it to the kitchen.
And "
Now, ma'am, you really must n't," inter-
posed the doctor at this point. "If you con-
tinue to excite the patient, I will not be answer-
able for the result. Chris, my boy, how do you
feel now ? "
The lad understood by this time that he was
a victim of circumstantial evidence. He saw
the impossibility of explaining the situation so
that his parents and the doctor would under-
stand it, so he replied calmly:
I never felt better, doctor; but I '11 take the
vacation and the medicine if you say so. And
now I 'd like to get up."
By all means, my boy. After a light but
nutritious breakfast, I should advise a walk of
a mile or two; but do not indulge in any
violent exercise, physical or mental."
Mr. and Mrs. Wagstaff and the doctor with-
drew from the room, and Chris began dressing.
Well," he mused, with an angry laugh, "it's
plain enough that they think me crazy. But
just let me get that lamp again, and I '11 show
them whether I am or not. Oh, I must find
it -that 's all there is about it."
He hurried on his clothes, and went down
to breakfast. His mother hovered about him,
ministering to his every want with even more
than her usual tender solicitude. When he had
finished the meal, she inquired anxiously:
"How do you feel now, Chris ?"
"First-rate," replied the boy; and now I
guess I '11 go and take a walk."
"Yes; that's what the doctor advised. But
had n't I better go with you, dear ? "
"Oh, no," replied Chris, hastily; "why,
you could n't keep up with me."
"I don't know that I could. Well, be very
careful not to catch cold. Had n't you better
put on your overcoat? It 's a real sharp
I don't need it, mother." And the youth
bolted out of the door to avoid further expres-
sions of anxiety in his behalf.
He commenced another search for the lamp;
but his quest, like that of the previous night,
was unsuccessful.
He desisted at last, in despair, and was about
to start for the Bugle office to insert his ad-

vertisement, when Huldah called to him from
the kitchen:
Say, Chris, come here a minute, will you ?"
"What do you want ?" asked the boy, ap-
proaching the door where she stood.
What was the doctor doing in your room
this morning ?"
"Oh, don't bother me! And Chris turned
impatiently on his heel.
"Ain't sick, are you ?" persisted the girl.
"No, I 'm not."
"Well, you need n't be so short. Wait a
minute, can't you? What was you looking for
out there ? "
"Something I lost," replied Chris, walking
"Well, you need n't tell me if you don't want
to," Huldah shouted after him; "for I know.
It was that old lamp; and I '11 tell you one
thing: you '11 never see it again!"
The boy turned abruptly and retraced his
steps, his face aflame with excitement.
"What do you mean ?" he cried. What do
you know about it ?"
"More 'n you think," answered the girl, with
a malicious smile. "Your ma gave me that
lamp, and I made up my mind I would n't let
you have it. When your pa threw it out of
the window last night, I heard it fall, and I
went out and picked it up."
"And you 've got it? Why did n't you tell
me so when you saw me looking for it? "
"I thought I 'd let you hunt till you got
Now, see here, Huldah," began Chris, in a
conciliatory tone, "I want that lamp."
"Oh, you do ?" laughed the girl.
"Yes, I do. It belonged to old Professor
Huxter, and I bought it at the auction for ten
cents, and I want to keep it as a memento.
I '11 buy it from you."
"If you'd talked that way yesterday," said
Huldah, we might have struck a bargain; but
you 're too late now."
"Why, what do you mean?" cried the boy,
turning pale.
I told you I had a use for the lamp, and so
I had. The old thing is a good many miles
from here now."
W-where is it ? gasped Chris.



"In Hallelujah Pettengill's wagon," replied
Huldah, complacently. "I swapped it off, with
a lot of other old things, for a dress pattern.
Want to see it, Chris ? It's just the prettiest
piece of caliker you '11 find in these parts. Hal-
lelujah said he could n't have let me have it,
only he got it at a bankrupt sale dirt-cheap.
Wait till you see it."
"Do you mean to say," demanded the boy,
"that you actually gave that lamp to Hallelu-
jah Pettengill for a calico dress?"
Of course I do; why not?" returned Hul-
dah, who could not help being somewhat
impressed by the look of blank despair on
Chris's face. "I had to give him a lot of other
things besides, too. I don't know as I 'd have
given him -the lamp, but he saw it, and took
quite a notion to it, and so I let him have it.
Why, I did n't s'pose you cared so much about
it. And I did n't know you thought so terrible
much of Professor Huxter, anyway."
"Which way did Hallelujah's wagon go ?"
asked Chris, who had scarcely heard the girl's
"Toward Newville. He said he 'd get to
Hartford by night."
"What time was it when you gave him the
lamp ?"
I don't know; about half-past seven, I
guess. Why, you don't mean to say that you 're
going to chase after him, Chris Wagstaff?"
, There was no reply; the boy had already
started in pursuit of the peddler.
It was then nearly half-past nine; Chris felt
sure that he could overtake the new owner of
the lamp by noon.
Hallelujah Pettengill was one of the now
nearly extinct race of traveling merchants who
were prepared to supply their customers at short
notice with almost anything, from a porous plas-
ter to a mowing-machine, a paper of pins to a
If New England can claim an aristocracy,
Hallelujah must have had an indisputable right
to be classed among its members, for he was a
direct descendant of one of the old Puritan
families. In person he was as long, lank, and
lean as the longest, lankest, and leanest of his
forefathers; but on his smooth-shaven face
there was an expression of good humor, and in

his keen, gray eyes a sly twinkle, that were not
observable in the portraits of his ancestors,
Azariah Pettengill and Purity, his wife, that
hung in solemn and dusty grandeur in the old
town hall in Dusenbury Center.
Despite the truth of the peddler's boast that
he was "ez cute ez they make 'em," and that
he seldom got the wrong end of a bargain, he
was a general favorite all along his route; his
visits were eagerly looked for by all sorts and
conditions of people, for he had a never-failing
stock of gossip, a ready fund of anecdote, and
was always in good humor.
Chris was certain that, by walking briskly,
he could "catch up" with Hallelujah by twelve
o'clock, for the peddler's heavy wagon moved
slowly and made many stops.
His 'reflections during his tramp were not
of the pleasantest nature. A thousand fears
haunted and tormented him. Hallelujah might
have lost the lamp; he might have sold it;
or perhaps he had already discovered its won-
derful properties, in which case he would of
course refuse to surrender it. Poor Chris! it
was a most dismal walk for him.
It lacked but ten minutes of noon when he
came in sight of the peddler's high wagon,
which looked like a house on wheels. It stood
outside the widow Peckham's cottage, about
half a mile from Newville; and Hallelujah and
the widow were at the gate, engaged in an
animated discussion.
As the boy, who had quickened his pace,
approached the couple, Mrs. Peckham entered
the house, and Hallelujah prepared to climb to
his lofty perch on the wagon.
"Hallo !" shouted Chris.
"Why, haow d' 'e dew, Chris ?" drawled the
peddler, with his usual good-natured grin.
"What in time be yeou dewin' here?"
"I want to see you a minute," panted Chris,
coming up at a run.
"Wa-al, here I be," returned Hallelujah,
"an' jest in trim fer talking' tew -had lots o'
practice during' the last ten minutes. They say
Mis' Peckham talked her man tew death, an'
I believe there 's suthin' in the story. Ef I
wa' n't so used tew dickerin' with wimmin-folks,
she 'd ha' got the best o' me in a trade jest
now, sure's yeou 're born. Talked till my head



begun tew swim, b' gosh; an' it takes an all-
fired smart woman tew make Hallelujah Petten-
gill dizzy. What dew yeou think she wanted
me tew dew, Chris ? Wanted me tew swap
the slickest piece o' dress-goods yeou ever set
yeour tew eyes ontew -all wool, ez I 'm a
sinner-- fer punkins. Think o' that- and
punkins ez thick this fall ez flies in a mer-
lasses bar'l!"
As the peddler stopped to catch his breath,
Chris, who had had ample time to recover his,
"Hallelujah, I want to see you on business."
"Wa-al, I hain't got much time. Fact is,
I 'm goin' tew hev dinner with the Wilkinsons,
an' yeou know, mebbe, haow Mis' Wilkinson is.
The vittles is on the table at twelve o'clock
sharp, an' she would n't wait fer the guv'nor
hisself. An' this is b'iled-dinner day, tew, so I
don't keer over-much 'baout bein' late. Did
Huldy send yeou ? "
"I -" began the boy, but the loquacious
Hallelujah continued in the same breath:
"'Cause, if she ain't satisfied with that piece
o' caliker, I could n't re'ly do nothing' 'baout it,
though they ain't no one I 'd ruther oblige 'n
Huldy Skinner. Her Aunt Nancy an' me use-
ter keep company, Chris, an' I 've held leetle
Huldy on my knee when she wa' n't no bigger 'n
a pint o' cider. But I p'inted aout the flaw in
the caliker; an' it won't show a bit when it's
made up. An' it 's jest her style. Gosh! I
kin imagine her in meeting' with that gaown on!
I don't cal'late yeour folks '11 keep her long ar-
ter Jed Beardsley sees her in that piece o' cali-
ker an' one o' them red hats that she 's so
almighty fond on. No, Chris, I dunno 's I see
my way clear tew take back the goods; all she
gin me fur it, anyway, was thutty cents, ten
pounds o' rags, an old hat o' yeour father's, an'
a pewter lamp."
"But I don't wan't you to take it back,"
broke in Chris, and Huldah does n't either.
What I want to see you about is that old lamp.
Of course it is n't worth anything to you."
Wa-al, I dunno 'baout that," returned Hal-
lelujah, with a cunning leer. "Yeou see, things
like that is wuth jest about what they '11 fetch.
Naow, fer my use, that there lamp would n't be
wuth no more 'n its valley ez old pewter, or

whatever it 's made of; but there 's folks that
'u'd run miles arter a thing like that, an' pay a
good price fer it tew, tew put ontew their parlor
center-tables. By jingo, Chris, I believe that 's
Mis' Wilkinson's dinner-horn naow!"
"I won't keep you more than a minute
longer," said Chris, hurriedly. "To come right
to the point: I want to buy that lamp; what
will you sell it for?"
I can't sell it tew yeou, Chris," replied the
peddler, slowly and deliberately ascending to his
seat on the wagon.
Why can't you ? cried the boy.
"'Cause," responded Hallelujah, picking up
the reins, "'t ain't mine tew sell. I disposed
on 't an haour ago!"


"You 'VE sold the lamp ?" exclaimed Chris.
The boy's evident agitation made such an
impression upon Hallelujah that he paused in
the act of starting his horses, and said:
"Yes. 'T wa' n't wuth much, Chris, 'tween
yeou an' me; but she took a shine tew it, so I
let her hev it."
"Who did ?" cried the lad.
"Why, Mis' Taylor,- Elnathan Taylor's wife,
y' know. She 's great on this here bricky-brac,
an' she took the greatest notion yeou ever see
tew that there lamp; nothing' would dew but
she must hev it. But where be yeou goin',
Chris?"-for the boy had already turned his
face Dusenbury-ward.
"To Mrs. Taylor's," was the reply. I must
have that lamp."
"Wa-al, hold on!" said Hallelujah. "She
hain't got it."
I thought you said you had sold it to her."
"So I did, but I hain't delivered it yet."
Chris's heart leaped for joy.
"Then you 've got it with you ?" he ex-
claimed. I '11 pay you more for it than Mrs.
Taylor would, Hallelujah."
With the most exasperating deliberation, ap-
parently unmindful of a Joshua-like blast from
Mrs. Wilkinson's big dinner-horn, the peddler
wound the reins around the whip, gazed medi-
tatively at nothing in particular for several
seconds, and then delivered himself as follows:


"Yeou see it's like this, Chris-though what
I 'm a-goin' tew say I don't want tew hev go
no further. Mis' Taylor's credit ain't none o'
the best. Now mind, I don't say there 's a
nicer woman in the hull county 'n she is, 'n' I
dunno 's I think there is; but they dew say as
haow Elnathan 's so all-fired close that she jest
hez tew scheme an' connive fer all she 's wuth
tew keep the breath o' life intew her. She ain't
ever got no money, an' she owes me yit fer a
wash-b'iler I sold her last August--though I
don't want yeou tew say nothing' 'baout that.
She gave me thutty-five cents on account, an'
that 's all I ever got or ever expectt tew git.
But 't ain't goin' tew be that way with this
here lamp. Ez soon ez she seed it, she sez:
'Hallelujah, I 've got tew hev that. Haow
much is 't ?' she sez. Mis' Taylor,' I sez, 'that
there piece o' bricky-brac ain't no cheap stock.
It 's imported,' I sez-an' so 't is. I see that
ez soon as I looked at it. My fust price,' sez
I, 'is my last price, an' 't won't be no use
hagglin'.' 'An' what is yeour price, Hallelu-
jah?' she sez. 'A dollar,' sez I. 'I '11 take it,'
sez she, ez quick ez that. 'I 'II take it, an'
here 's a quarter; the rest I '11 give yeou next
time yeou come roundd' 'No, marm,' I sez;
'that won't dew. I'11 take the quarter, an' keep
the lamp fer yeou till yeou git the balance.
When yeou give it tew me, the lamp 's yeourn.'
Fust she would n't hear tew that, fer she was
'xpectin' the sewin'-circle this afternoon; but
when she see I was sot, she give in an' paid me
the quarter, an' I put the lamp away in the box
under the seat."
"And is it there now ? cried the boy, who
had previously made several vain attempts to
interrupt his companion.
"That 's jest where 't is," was the reply;
"an' Mis' Taylor '11 git it. ez soon ez she 's
ready tew pay me my seventy-five cents, an'
not afore."
"I '11 pay you more than she will for it,"
said Chris, breathlessly. "I '11 give you a
dollar and a half."
Hallelujah shook his head.
"A bargain 's a bargain," he said. "I can't
do it; 't would n't be treating' Mis' Taylor fair."
The chances are she 'll never pay you,"
said Chris. I '11 give you cash down."

I ought n't tew let it go less 'n one seventy-
five, arter all the trouble I 've hed with it," said
the peddler. Missed my dinner on account
o' the blamed thing, I s'pose."
"I '11 give you a dollar seventy-five," cried
the boy.
"Wa-al, I '11 take it," responded Hallelujah,
rising and opening the box. "I '11 put that
quarter down tew Mis' Taylor's credit on ac-
caount o' the wash-b'iler. There seems tew be
sech a call fer these here bricky-brac lamps that
I guess I '11 hev tew lay in a stock of 'em.
Here yeou be, Chris."
Concealing his exultation by a strong effort,
the boy seized the precious lamp, handed Hal-
lelujah his money, and turned away with a"
hasty good-by, while the peddler resumed his
Chris's first impulse was to summon the genie
and order a coach-and-four to convey him back
to South Dusenbury. He was about to rub
the lamp when the rattle of wheels behind him
caused him to turn, and he saw approaching
at a rapid rate Doctor Ingalls's buggy, drawn
by old one-eyed Nancy, and containing the
doctor himself.
"How are you, Chris ?" cried the old gen-
tleman, bringing the vehicle to a standstill as
it reached the boy. "Been taking my advice,
have you? But you 've walked too far I
told you not to overdo, you know. Jump in
and ride back with me."
Chris was strongly tempted to amaze and
confound Doctor Ingalls by an impromptu ex-
hibition of his marvelous power; but he was
not quite ready to make his secret public
property, so he restrained the impulse and
"Thank you, Doctor; I am pretty tired."
"Of course you are!" returned the doctor,
as his patient stepped into the buggy. "You
must n't walk so far the next time. And you '11
be late for dinner; but not very, for Nancy can
cover the ground in half an hour. G'lang!"
During the ride Doctor Ingalls made an ear-
nest attempt to diagnose the boy's case, and
asked him a large number of questions regard-
ing his health and habits during the preceding
few months; to all of which queries Chris re-
plied with perfect good-nature, for he was too


well pleased at having recovered the wonderful
lamp to be in the least annoyed.
He found his father and mother anxiously
awaiting him when, after securely locking the
lamp in his desk, he joined them in the dining-
Have you been taking a walk, Christopher?"
asked Mr. Wagstaff, in a rather constrained tone.
"Yes, sir. I walked to Newville, and rode
back with Doctor Ingalls," replied Chris.

"I think I do understand them," replied his
Oh, no; you don't, sir. Father, I 'd like to
go to school this afternoon."
"You cannot, Christopher. Doctor Ingalls's
orders must be obeyed. You must refrain from
all mental and physical exertion."
"Take some nice, quiet book, Chris, one that
won't excite you," advised Mrs. Wagstaff, ten-
derly,-" say the Pilgrim's Progress,-and go

- -I


Huldah tells me you went in search of that
old lamp," continued his father.
I did, sir."
Did you find it ?"
"Yes, sir."
Mr. Wagstaff's face flushed slightly. He was
about to speak again, but desisted at a warning
glance from his wife, and the meal was eaten
almost in silence.
As they rose from the table, Chris said:
Father, you don't know what to make of
a good many things that have happened lately;
but you '11 understand them before long may-
be this very afternoon."
VOL. XXII.-39.

out on the porch and read awhile. That's the
best thing he can do; don't you think so, Pa ? "
Mr. Wagstaff, who had his full share of the
average man's dislike and intolerance of sickness
in the house, and who was quite as much an-
noyed as alarmed at Chris's sudden and sin-
gular illness, stalked out of the room without
vouchsafing a reply.
"He does n't mean to be unsympathetic,"
said the fond mother, passing her arm around
the boy's neck; "but he has two or three legal
matters on hand now that worry him a good
deal, and your coming down so suddenly just
at this time has quite upset him."


But I have n't come down,' mother," said
Chris, a touch of impatience in his voice.
" Don't you see that if- but no; of course you
can't understand it. You will, though, soon;
and then you and father will see that you 've
done a lot of worrying for nothing."
He stepped out upon the porch,- not, how-
ever, taking the filgrim's Progress with him,-
and, seating himself with his elbows on his knees
and his head on his hands, began seriously


considering the relative advantages and dis-
advantages of several plans that had suggested
themselves to him for making the fact of his
succession to Aladdin's power and greatness
known to the world.
His mother, looking out of the window for
the twentieth time nearly an hour later, saw
him suddenly raise his head and heard him
burst into a hearty fit of laughter, and exclaim:
"That 's the idea I '11 do it!"
"Oh, Chris, what is it ? she cried, hurrying
to the door.
"Don't look so worried,. mother," said the
boy. It 's the best joke of the season-yes,
of the century. I can't tell you what it is now,
but you '11 know very soon."
He ascended to his room, obtained the lamp,
carefully wrapped it in paper, and with it un-
der his arm started at a brisk pace for Chad-
wick's Acre, a lonely tract of stony, unproduc-
tive ground about half a mile from the village.

His destination reached, Chris looked cau-
tiously about him to make sure that there were
no witnesses; then he unwrapped the lamp,
and gave it a rub.
The next instant the genie stood before him,
this time in the r61e of Pulsifer Jukes.
Well, what is it ? he asked apprehensively.
"Are you in trouble with your folks again ? "
No," replied Chris; "everything is lovely at
home. There 's nothing to complain of there."
"Ah, then I suppose
it is at the academy.
Now see here: if it 's
a thrashing, I 've got a
new scheme-I want
.to send a substitute.
I '11 guarantee him pains-
taking and competent,
and I 'd feel awfully ob-
. l'- liged if you 'd use him.
Honest, I 'm not equal
S'to the task to-day."
And the genie looked
anxiously into his mas-
ter's face.
It is n't a thrashing,"
said Chris; "so you need
N BED. (SEE PAGE 300.) n't worry."
What is it, then ? the
genie asked, with an ill-concealed sigh of relief.
"Well," replied the owner of the lamp,
"I 'm thinking of giving the people hereabouts
a surprise. I want to let them see that I
amount to a little more than they think."
Now, that 's the way I like to hear you
talk," declared the genie, his face lighting up.
I 've been trying to instil ideas like that into
your mind all along, but you would n't pay any
attention to me. However, I don't hold any
grudge against you on that account. Let by-
gones be bygones. Now, let 's have fun.
You 've no idea what a sense of humor I have.
Why, I 'm the most playful genie you ever met;
I 'd do 'most anything for a good laugh. Say,
what shall we do to astonish the natives?
What do you think of a cyclone? Never had
one in these parts, did you ? "
"No, and we won't have if I can help it,"
responded Chris, testily. I don't want to kill
off the entire population. I only-"



You need n't kill anybody," interrupted the
genie. "A few bones might be broken, but
even that could be avoided if you were very
particular. Still a cyclone is a cyclone, you
know, and not a zephyr; and I tell you frankly
I 'd much rather not undertake to engineer it
at all unless you give me carte blanche. I have
a reputation to maintain, though you may not
think it."
The genie's flushed face and high-pitched,
angry voice showed that his patience was
sorely tried. Observing this, and remembering
his covert threat on a previous occasion, Chris
thought it well to make an attempt to concili-
ate him.
"That's all right," he said. If I wanted a
cyclone I 'd leave it entirely to you, and I 've
no doubt you 'd manage it in first-class style.
But I don't."
"You might try one, anyway," cried the
genie, eagerly. "You 've no idea what fun it
would be."
Not to-day," replied Chris. Now listen,"
he continued quickly, as the loquacious genie
evinced an inclination to interrupt him again.
"I 'm placed in a false position before every
one,. and I don't like it."
"It 's no one's fault but your own," said the
genie, with an uncompromising shake of the
"My folks think I am crazy," went on the
boy; "and very likely that 's what they believe
at school, too."
"I should n't wonder," replied the slave of
the lamp; "and can you blame them? The
upshot of the business is that you have n't
used your power with the least judgment.
You have persisted in placing yourself and me
in the most embarrassing positions, and I sup-
pose you '11 keep right on doing so."
"No, I sha'n't," said Chris, earnestly. "I 'm
going to start in on an entirely different plan.
And, after all, most of the unpleasant things
that have happened since I bought the lamp
have n't been my fault at all; they were just
hard luck."
It is the way of the world," said the genie,
"to rail at fate when we are forced to suffer
the natural consequences of our own rash and
wilful acts. They who tread the path of recti-

tude seldom have occasion to complain of
hard luck."
He wagged his head solemnly, and looked so
intensely virtuous that Chris was strongly re-
minded of the picture of the good old clergy-
man in the illustrated edition of The Vicar of
Wakefield on the parlor center-table.
"You're a nice one to talk that way! cried
the boy, indignantly. Why, I never told such
a whopper in my life as the one you made
Professor Thwacker believe."
Well, I did n't think that even you would
be mean enough to reproach me with that,"
said the genie, with a look of deep disgust.
"The whopper,' as you call it, was told at
your bidding and in the strict line of my duty.
It was your 'whopper' a good deal more than
it was mine: I should think your conscience
would tell you that. Never mind, never mind,"
he added, waving his hand haughtily, as Chris
attempted to speak; we won't discuss the mat-
ter; it is only another point upon which you
and I do not agree. And now, not to waste
any more time,-mine is worth something if
yours is n't,-why have you summoned me? "
"I 'd have told you long ago if you had
given me a chance to get in a word edgewise,"
returned Chris. I 'm going to astonish the
people of South Dusenbury."
"You said that before. What do you mean
to do ? delegate me to take a few more flog-
gings? Speak out; don't be bashful."
"Of course I don't mean to do anything of
the sort," said Chris, in a conciliatory tone. I
only want you to give the people an exhibition
of the great powers I know you to possess."
A truce to compliments," said the genie, still
brusquely, though his master could see by the
softening of the lines about his mouth that he was
not insensible to the delicate tribute to his ability.
"Tell me exactly what you want me to do."
"Well," said Chris, a little ill at ease, "I
want you to do a lot of things; but first we
must have a rehearsal."
"A rehearsal? What for? I don't under-
stand you."
It 's so long, you see," stammered the boy,
evading his companion's questioning eye, "since
you have built a palace or or anything of that
sort, that you.must need a little practice."



"Nonsense! snorted the genie. "I 'm not
a builder by trade, and I have n't put up so
much as a woodshed in thousands of years; but


I keep my eyes and ears open, and I 'm right
abreast of the times. I have n't the smallest
doubt that I could run you up the neatest and
most commodious palace you ever saw in your
life, all while you wait; and I don't need any
It won't do you any harm, anyhow," said
Chris; "and I 'd like first-rate to see you do it."
Anything to oblige," returned the genie, be-
tween his set teeth. Some people would show
a little more-but never mind! Issue your or-
ders, and they shall receive prompt attention.
What is it to be ?-a palace ? "
"Yes, and right now."



There was a sudden sound like the rushing
of a mighty wind, then a blinding glare of light.
Chris staggered back a few paces, and uttering

i I


a low cry of fear, covered his eyes with. his
Then came a strange silence, broken almost
immediately by the voice of the genie:
"What 's the matter with you? Why,
you 're as white as a sheet, and trembling like a
leaf. Just cast your eye over this building, and
tell me candidly what you think of it."
Chris removed his hands from his eyes; the
next moment an exclamation of amazement
burst from his lips. Chadwick's Acre was half
covered by a magnificent marble edifice, many
stories in height, and of an Oriental, and ex-
tremely ornate, style of architecture.


At the entrance stood the genie in full even-
ing dress, rubbing his hands and smiling com-
"You seem quite broken up," he said.
"Did n't think you 'd stumped me, did you ?
You gave me mighty short notice, but I flatter
myself I 've made rather a neat job of it."
It's wonderful! gasped Chris.
"Oh, it 's fair to middling," said the genie,
shrugging his shoulders. I acknowledge I
have n't put my best work on it, for I don't like
the location -it 's too lonely, too out of the
way, for yours truly. Still, there '11 be an im-
provement in that respect before long. This
palace is bound to raise the price of property




to see how your ideas as to the furnishing and
artistic decoration agree with mine."
As he finished speaking, the door was opened
by a liveried attendant, who bowed obsequi-
ously and said:
"Welcome'ome, Mawster Chris. I 'opes has
'ow yer '11 find heverythink to yer liking."
"English servants are the best in the world,
to my way of thinking," whispered the genie in
Chris's ear; "and you 'll find them all through
the palace, except in the kitchen. There I
have established a French chef who can make
a souffle that is a dream, sir-a dream! Well,
shall we go up in the elevator, or would you
like to walk ? "




in the neighborhood at least five hundred per
cent. You mark my words, there '11 be a real-
estate boom right here before you and I are
many days older. Tell your father if he has
any surplus capital to invest, that there is now
offered to him the chance of a lifetime. But
come right in and inspect the interior. I want

Chris expressed a preference for the latter
mode of locomotion, and they started up a
grand staircase which the genie stated was an
exact duplicate of that in the Grand Opera
House in Paris.
"Electric lights all through, you observe,"
continued the genie, his face flushed with excite-

'"'' "''




ment; hot and cold water in all the rooms -
in short, every modern improvement that sug-
gested itself to me in the very brief time you
allowed me."
I might have given you five minutes or so
longer if I 'd thought," said Chris, half apolo-
Well, I wish you 'd thought," returned the
genie. "Aladdin gave me an entire night,
which made the erection of his palace merely
child's play. But, after all, you 've got just
about as good a building. It 's entirely differ-
ent, though, except in one particular."
What is that? "
"Wait till we get to the top floor and you '11
see," replied the genie, with a mysterious smile.
"There 's something up there that will interest
you, and we '11 get lots of fun out of it."
Chris's curiosity was aroused, and although
they were then only on the third floor, he in-
sisted upon taking the elevator at once, and as-
cending to the upper story.
The journey was made in remarkably quick
time: scarcely half a dozen seconds had elapsed
when the elevator-boy called out:
Twelfth and last. Straight ahead for the
grand saloon."
Now, then," said the genie, with anima-
tion, as they stepped from the car, "I suppose
you remember about the grand saloon that
Aladdin got me to put on the top floor of his
palace ? "
Oh, yes," replied Chris, smiling at the rec-
ollection. "The walls were of gold and silver
in alternate layers, and. there were twenty-four
windows, six on each side."
"Exactly," interrupted his companion; and
the lattices of twenty-three of those windows
were enriched with diamonds, rubies, and em-
eralds, while the twenty-fourth was left entirely
I remember," said Chris. The Sultan,
Aladdin's father-in-law, tried to finish that win-
dow in the same style as the rest; but after he
had used up all the jewels he could lay his
hands on, he threw up the job, and then you
finished it in a few seconds."
That's right," laughed the genie. I don't
think I ever had so much fun in my life as
I did watching the old Suit. try to decorate

that window. He worked like a horse,-I '11
give him full credit for that,-and even went
so far as to have the jewels dug 6ut of his
crown and replaced with paste. But what
was the use? He could n't compete with
me, as a matter of course. Now, then, I 'm
going to show you an exact reproduction of
that saloon."
An ebony and pearl door before which they
had been standing flew open, revealing a room
of such surpassing beauty and magnificence that
Chris exclaimed:
"Why, the fellow who wrote the Arabian
Nights did n't half do this justice!"
"Just what I 've always said," rejoined the
genie. "He was a bright, brainy young chap,
but painfully careless and slovenly, especially
in description. We must have a delegation of
New York and Boston reporters on here to
write up this room. I '11 pay for a special train
for them, and entertain them at my own ex-
pense; I could n't say fairer than that, could
I? But now I '11 tell you what I meant when
I said we 'd get lots of fun out of this room. I
want you and your father to get Congress to
make a big appropriation to complete that
twenty-fourth window. I '11 be back of you
all the time, you understand; and you '11 get
the appropriation-be sure of that. We '11
make it a condition that they forfeit the money
if they don't succeed in making the lattice
quite equal to the others, and we '11 agree to
give them the building if they do. Now, as
they can't possibly do it, don't you see that
it '11 be a first-class speculation? And think
of the fun! Why, we-"
Nonsense! interrupted Chris; "it's out of
the question."
Why is it out of the question ?" cried the
genie, excitedly. "Why, it seems to me no-
thing could be simpler."
See here," said Chris, very sharply, for he
felt that it was about time they reached an
understanding, "are you my slave, or am I
yours ? "
"If it comes to that," replied the genie,
somewhat reluctantly, with a look of mingled
anger and surprise, "I suppose that I am yours
and the lamp's."
"Then please pay a little more attention to




what I say, and don't talk so much yourself.
Did n't I tell you that I only had you put up
this palace as an experiment?"
"An experiment ? almost shrieked the genie.
"What do you mean?"
I mean just what I say," returned Chris,
firmly. I got you to build the palace just for
a little practice. I thought you might be a trifle
rusty, and I wanted to be sure that you could
really do it. And it 's
got to disappear mighty
soon, too; for I don't
want any one to see it."
For nearly a minute
the genie gazed steadily
at his master without -
speaking; and there
was a hard look on his
face that the boy did
not like. At last he
said with an air of icy '
formality: "I think I ..
understand you now,
and I will try to make
you understand me.
Suppose we go down to .
the banquet-hall ? We :
can discuss the matter
there over our glass
of soda-watef, which I "'
should decidedly recom-
mend for a lad of your .
tender years."
Chris nervously fol-
lowed his slave to the
"Bekind enough tolet
us off at the second floor,
Watkins," said the genie
to the elevator-boy. ,,
When the banquet-
hall -a superb room ,HIS SURROUNDINGS VANIS
done in ivory and gold

-was reached, the evider
touched a bell, and order
appeared to bring some ref
Then he turned to Chris.

"Now let us come to an understanding.
You can't think how tired I am of-"
But while the genie was speaking, the boy,
who was standing by the window, had caught
sight of four of his school-fellows approach-
ing at no very great distance, and he now in-
terrupted his companion unceremoniously.
"I can't stop to talk now," he said. Make this
place disappear, and in double-quick time."

IL' '

11. h. W '
Wt j ;,
I :: ~ '' I4


itly perturbed genie He had scarcely uttered the last word when
ed the servant who his magnificent surroundings vanished like a
reshments for Chris. puff of smoke; and a cry of dismay escaped
saying: his lips as he felt himself falling.
(To be continued.)


'~ '''

L 'T

.... . .. . .

F za

i.f I




(SEE PAGE 350.)



[Begun in the April number.]

THAT evening, soon after dark, the Captain
went to bed again to make up the sleep that
had been broken in upon in the morning. "I
hope he '11 sleep hisself out of his evil humor
this time," said Dred to Jack, who sat opposite
to him in the fireplace.
They could hear Betty Teach stirring around
in the young lady's room overhead, and now
and then the sound of her voice, and now and
then the sound of Miss. Eleanor Parker's voice
in reply.
Jack sat staring into the fire after she had
gone. His mind was very full of the thought
of Miss Eleanor Parker. Every now and then
the things about him wove themselves into the
woof of his thoughts. He heard Betty Teach
walking along the passageway up-stairs. Then
he heard her close the door of her own bed-
room, and then the sound of her voice and
Blackbeard's as they talked together. "She
always has a pleasant word for me. I do be-
lieve she likes to see me. She always looks
pleased to see me," Betty said.
"When she came ashore that time, she reached
out and took hold of my hand," Jack thought.
And then he remembered how firm and frank
had been her grasp as he had helped her up
to the landing; how warm and soft her hand.
"She thought then that she 'd be with us
only a week," he went on; "and now it 's
been over a month. Why, yes; 't is nigh to
two months." Dred got up and pushed the log
with his foot, and it blazed up into a bright
flame, lighting up his sallow face, and shining
red in his narrow, black, beadlike eyes. Jack
watched the kindling flame with interest.
Then it was that the thought that now
seemed to him to have lurked in his mind all

day took a sudden form. What if he himself
should help the young lady to run away ? The
thought came upon him almost like a physical
shock. He paused in his thinking; then'he be-
gan to-think again. Yes; he had tried to run
away in Virginia, and his luck had been good.
What if he could run away again now, and take
her with him! He leaned, with his elbows on
his knees, looking into the glowing coals. It
could not be so difficult a thing to do; he could
take one of the boats down there at the landing
-the yawl-boat, perhaps. He would have to
take some provisions along. He would fill a
barraca* with water. Then, when all was ready,
he would go to the young lady's room and
would arouse her. He would take her bundle
of clothes up and leave them at her door. She
would dress herself and come down, and then
he could guide her quietly to the landing. He
would help her into the boat; and -
Dred took out his pipe and filled it, and Jack
watched him. Then the pirate picked out a
hot coal from the, fire, and, tossing it rapidly
from hand to hand in his horny palms, dropped
it into the bowl of his pipe and began puffing it
into a spark of fire. Then Jack went on think-
ing again. They would steal away in the dark-
ness. The pirates would chase them the next
day, and they two Would hide in the creeks and
inlets, and so would gradually make their way
down to Ocracock. It would take them maybe
two or three days to sail from the inlet to Vir-
ginia; but if the weather was good it would not
be a hard or dangerous thing to do. What
glory there would be for him if he could bring
her safe back to Virginia! What a hero he
would be! Colonel Parker would bring him to
live at Marlboroiigh, maybe, and would tell ev-
erybody how he, Jack, had helped Miss Eleanor
to escape from Blackbeard the pirate. His
thoughts assumed such big proportions that he
suddenly broke the silence without thinking.

A small Spanish barrel or cask, sometimes flattened on one side so as to lie in a boat without
rolling in heavy weather.
VOL. XXII.-40. 3'3


" Dred," said he; and then the sharp sound of
his own voice struck him with a shock. With
a quick, keen regret, he wished that he had not
spoken; but he had spoken, and Dred was
looking up at him attentively, waiting for him to
"What is it?" said Dred at last, breaking
the silence.
"Methinks the young lady up-stairs is mightily
sick, Dred. Don't you think so?" And Jack
felt that his heart was beating quickly.
"Yes, I do."
"I know very well that she is n't so strong
as she was when she first came here."
Dred looked steadily at him, holding the pipe
loosely between his fingers. Well," said he,
" what then ?"
"Well," said Jack,- and again he felt how
heavily his heart was beating,-" if the young
lady don't get away from here pretty soon,-
if she ain't got away one way or another,- to
my mind she '11 be like to die."
Still Dred looked at him steadily. "D' ye
mean," said he at last, that ye 've been think-
ing of helping her to get away ?"
Jack did not reply. He hardly dared to
look at Dred.
I wonder if you 've really got the heart in
your breast to do such a thing as that ? said
I think I could do it if it came to the point,"
said Jack, almost whispering. He wondered,
trembling, what Dred would say to him next.
Dred still continued to look steadily at him.
" D' ye know," he said abruptly, "to my mind,
what ye.said is true enough. I can't say as
the young mistress is really sick of anything,
but she just seems to get weaker and weaker
all the time." Jack wondered fleetingly whether
Dred had been thinking of the same thing that
had occupied his mind. She ain't used to the
life she 's living," Dred was saying; "and it
be n't the kind she can live on even if she
was feeling strong and well. But she ain't
well; and she ain't been, since she came here.
Maybe 't was the way we took her away from
home sort of broke her heart like."
D' ye mean to say that she 's going to die? "
said Jack, with a keen thrill at his heart.
"No," said Dred; "I don't mean that,

neither. But I do mean this: that at any mo-
ment whatsoever she might be taken sick and
die afore we knew it. The way she was out
in the storm was enough to fetch on a cough
fit to kill a gell raised as she was raised."
"But surely," said Jack, forgetting in the
direct present his vague plans of a moment or
two before-" but surely it can't be so long
before the Captain hears something from Vir-
ginia. Then 't will be only a matter of a week
or so till she 's sent back again. You know
very well the Captain's looking for a letter from
Virginia any day now."
Dred shook his head. "To my mind," he
said, "- and 't is growing stronger and stronger
--to my mind, there 's summat going on that
we knows naught about. To my mind, there 's
summat wrong about this here business; there's
summat going on that Blackbeard himself nor
any on us knows naught about. To my know-
ledge, the Captain 's sent three letters to Vir-
ginia, and he ain't heard a word from any o'
the young lady's people yet. What d' ye sup-
pose is the reason of that ? Why be n't there
summat said in all this time? Here it has
been two months, and not a line. What d' ye
suppose is the meaning of that ? Jack shook
his head. I '11 tell you what I believe, and what
I 've been believing for some time past now,
Jack "; and Dred knocked the ashes out of his
pipe and pocketed it. I don't believe the
young lady's uncle intends as she shall come
back to Virginia at all, and that 's the very
living truth.
"What makes you think that, Dred ?" said
"Why," said he, because he don't pay any
attention to what the Captain says. Here he's
led the Captain into kidnapping the girl, and
here she is down in North Carolina, far away
from all her friends; and he pays no attention
to the Captain's letters, and just lets her stay
here till she gets the fever or summat and dies
of it; and that she 's sartin to do soon or late
- and, to my mind, 't will be soon."
Jack sat silent, looking moodily into the fire.
"I wish I 'd never come here to North Caro-
lina," said Jack.
Dred shrugged his shoulders. "If wishes
was losses," he said, "all on us would ride."



Again the two sat looking reflectively into
the coals. "Well," said Jack at last, drawing
a deep breath, "what 's to be done ? "
"Why," said Dred, "did n't ye tell me just
now that you 've got the heart to run away
with her and take her back to Virginia? Did
n't ye mean what ye said? Now, if ye do, I
say that I won't stand in your way, that 's
what I mean."
Jack stared blankly at Dred. He had not
dreamed that the rambling thoughts and fan-
cies that had carried him along all the evening
could possibly assume such suddenly real form
and substance.
"But, Dred," said he, "would I really dare
do such a thing as that? "
"That's for you to say," said Dred. I tell
ye what 't is: if I was a young fellow like you,
and hale and strong and not crippled up with
the fever, I know very well I 'd not stand by
and see a pretty young lady die afore my eyes,
and do naught to try and help her-no, not
if all the pirates twixtt here and Indy stood in
the way."
Jack sat almost motionless looking at Dred,
who, upon his part, sat looking steadily at the
lad with his keen, narrow, black eyes. "And
would you help me, Dred, if I went? he said
at last, in a voice dry, almost whispering, with
Dred hesitated a moment. Yes, I would,"
he said, still looking steadily at Jack; I 'd be
willing to help you."
Jack got up and kicked the smoldering log
into a blaze. He stood looking down into the
fire. He heaved a labored sigh. "I tell you
what 't is, Dred," said he: "'t would be an
awful risk to run."
"There'd be some risk," said Dred; "there's
no denying that. But I did n't ax ye to take
it; I did n't ax ye to go; 't was your own no-
tion, and not mine. Well, if you ha'n't got the
courage for it, arter all, why, let it be, and don't
go. I sha'n't blame ye."
Again Jack sighed heavily. It seemed to him
as though he could hardly breathe. If I go,
will you go along, Dred ? said he, after a while.
"I!" said Dred; I go! Why, no; I don't
want to go. 'T were n't my notion to go at
all; 't were yourn."

Well, even if it was my notion, you thought
it was a good thing to do. You might go with
Dred shook his head.
"You 're bold enough to advise me to go,"
said Jack, bitterly. It takes no heart to ad-
vise me to go, when jrou run no risk yourself."
Dred shrugged his shoulders. "Well," said
he, "if you have n't the heart for it, why, don't
do it. I don't see what you talk about it for if
you did n't mean to go."
Jack leaned against the mantel. He rested-
his forehead against his arm, and looked down
into the flickering blaze. I 've a mind to go,
Dred," said he.
Dred did not reply.
"If you were in my place, Dred, when
would you go ? said he again, presently.
"When?" said Dred. "Why, I 'd go to-
Jack raised himself with a jerk. "To-night!"
"Yes; to-night."
Jack stood perfectly motionless, looking at
Dred fixedly for a long time. To-night! he
repeated; do you mean now-this minute ?"
"Yes, I. do."
The house was perfectly silent. Hands
coughed in his sleep, and it sounded loud in
the stillness. Suddenly Jack stretched out his
*hand to Dred. "Dred," said he, "I '11-I '11
do it! Dred reached out and grasped Jack's
hand. Jack wrung Dred's almost convulsively;
his own was chill and trembling with the tense-
ness of his resolve.

"I SUPPOSE," said Jack, after a while,-" I
suppose 't will be best to take the yawl-boat."
He rubbed his hands together. They felt chill
and numb to him.
"Why, yes," said Dred; "I do suppose it
will be best. She 's rather a trifle heavy for
ye to handle, maybe; but she 's more broad of
beam and more weatherly than t' other ones,
and ye can stow yourself more comfortable-like
aboard of her, d' ye see? I '11 go and help
you get it ready." And he arose.
They went out of the house together. The


black, starry vault of night brooded still and
serene. Jack, intent upon one thing, thought
of nothing else-felt nothing else.
They came to the wood-house. It gaped
black with its open front. The two stood
gazing into the darkness for a moment or
"We 'd better have brought a lantern with
us," said Dred.
"I know where the oars and sail are," said
Jack. "You wait outside here, and I '11 go in
and hand 'em out to you." He went into the
shed, and, feeling around, found a box which
he tilted up on end to stand upon. There were
some chickens roosting on the rafters, and they
clucked and gurgled sleepily as he rattled the
oars, drawing them down from the high beams
overhead. He handed the oars down to Dred,
who took them from him. Next he tried to
take down the mast and sail. He struggled in
the darkness for some time before he could
draw them out. "You '11 have to help me
with this sail," said he at last; I can't get the
teasing thing out-never mind, here it comes."
He dragged it heavily.
Then the sail and the mast came down
so suddenly as nearly to pitch Jack off the box.
"There it comes," he said; "and a teasing
enough thing it was, to be sure."
Dred helped him out with it, and they laid,
it beside the oars.
"Where 's the ax ?" said Dred.
"I '11 find it," said Jack; "I think I know
where 't is." Again he entered the shed and
'fumbled around in the darkness for a while.
" Here 't is," said he. What d' ye want with
the ax?"
We've got to stave in the boats, d'ye see?"
said Dred, as Jack handed it out to him.
"To stave in the boats ?"
"Aye, so as the Captain and t' others won't.
be able to folly the yawl-boat in them, nor to
send up to the town for help to man the sloop
to chase ye."
Oh,. yes," said Jack; I see."
"You 'll have to carry these here things
down to the beach," said Dred; "for I hain't
got the strength to do any carrying. I '11 take
_the ax, and that 's about all I can do."
"Very well," said Jack; "I can carry the

others easy enough, if you '11 only lift them up
to my shoulder."
The broad mouth of the creek stretched out
dim and gray in the night. A slight mist
hung in the air in the lee of the further shore,
above which the tops of the trees showed dimly
and obscurely in the night. The pallid, rip-
pling surface of the water seemed to stretch
away infinitely into the distance. The little
waves beat with a recurrent and pulsing plash
upon the shore, and the chill air was full of
the damp smell of brackish water. Dred had
stepped into the boat and across the thwarts.
There was a barraca in the bows. He lifted it
to the thwarts. don't reckon the water in
this barraca is fit to drink," said he; and he
pulled out the plug and smelled of the water.
"It does n't smell bad," he added; "but I reckon
't would be better to get some fresh. You carry
it up to the house, and we '11 fill it at the cis-
tern." He tilted the barraca and held it while
the water ran out guggling and gurgling.
They went back to the house together. Dred
took off his shoes on the door-step outside, and
Jack followed his example. Dred lit the can-
dle from a splinter of wood at the fire, and then
led the way from the kitchen into the store-
room adjoining. He and Jack took down
two hams from the hooks in the ceiling, and.
brought out two bags of biscuit, one of them
filled and the other about half empty.
By the time they had made everything ready
-had filled the barraca with water and had
taken it and the provisions down to the boat,
and had stowed them away in the locker in the
bows, and had stepped the mast, and had loos-
ened the lashings that held the sail- the time
was pretty well advanced toward midnight.
" Now then," said Dred, handing Jack the ax,
" we have to stave in the boats, and that 's all.
Smash 'em well while 'e 's about it, lad"; and
Jack jumped into the first boat and began with
a will crashing and splitting the bottom boards
into splinters. Then he went to the next, and
the next, until he had stove in all of them.
Then he and Dred pushed the yawl off from
the shore, pulled her up to the wharf, and
with the stern-line and the bow-line lashed her
to the piles.
And now all was ready for departure.



When they again returned to the house, the
fire had burned down to a heap of dull-red
embers just showing through the white ashes.
"I reckon ye 'd better be rousing the young
Mistress now," said Dred. "So far as I see,
everything else is ready. Stop a bit-tell her
not to put on her shoes till she gets out of the
house. D' ye understand ? "
Yes," said Jack; I understand."
The stairway passage ascending to the floor
above was as dark as pitch. Jack, carrying the
bundle of clothes, felt his way along the wall
up-stairs through the darkness. He could
hear Blackbeard's regular snores and the deep
breathing of his sleeping wife. Once a step
creaked loudly under his tread, and he stopped
still, listening with a thrilling heart. But no
one seemed to have been disturbed, and he con-
tinued his way-still feeling along the wall-
toward the younglady's room. Reaching the
door, he tapped softly and cautiously. In a
moment he heard a sudden stirring.
Who 's there? she said sharply; and Jack
thrilled at the sound of her voice in the muffled
"S-s-sh! he whispered; and then, after a
moment's pause, 'T is a friend who hath
come to help you if you '11 only be still. Come
to the door,-but make no noise."
"Who is it ? she repeated, this time whis-
"'T is I--'t is Jack. I 'm going to help
you get away home again if you choose to
trust me. I 'm sorry for you and all your
trouble, and so I 've come to help you. You
must n't ask any questions now. I 've brought
back your clothes that Betty Teach took away
from you a while ago. I '11 lay 'em here just
outside of the door. If you dare trust me, and
will dress and come down-stairs, I '11 try to help
you away home again."
Then there was dead silence.
"I don't know what you mean," she pres-
ently whispered.
Never mind," said Jack; "I '11 tell you all
about that after a while; but I can't stay here
any longer now. I 'm going to take you away
back home again, if you choose to have me do
so; and Dred 's down-stairs to help us get
away. He bade me tell you to put on what

clothes you need, and to fetch the .rest with
you. Be as quiet as you can about it, Mis-
tress; and be sure"-remembering Dred's in-
junction-" to bring your shoes in your hand
with you. You may put them on outside.
We 've got a boat down at the landing all
ready to take you away.-Do you understand
me ? "
"Yes," she whispered in reply.
When Jack came down-stairs into the kitchen,
he found that Dred had got together a number
of additional articles. He had taken a couple
of rough overcoats from the hutch. A little
pile of sweet potatoes and a bottle of rum
stood upon the table. He was putting the
sweet potatoes into the capacious pockets of
one of the overcoats. He looked up as Jack
entered silently in his stocking-feet. "Is she
coming ? said he.
".Why," said Jack, "she seemed kind of
dazed, but I think she understood me."
Dred laid the overcoats over the back of the
chair. "You bring them and her bundle of
clothes," said he, "and I '11 take the young
lady down to the boat."
"Very well," said Jack.
They were waiting silently for her coming.
Presently Dred went to the door, opened it,
and stood looking out into the night. The
*waning moon was about to rise, and the east
was lit with a pallid light, almost like the light
of the first dawning. The cool air rushed
whispering through the grass, and every now
and then the foliage of the cypress-trees swayed
mysteriously and blackly before it against the
starry night sky.
Jack heard a faint, soft sound upon the stairs.
Here she comes," he whispered.
Dred turned sharply around, and the next
moment the door opened and the young lady
was there. She was very pale. She carried her
silk traveling-bag in one hand, and her shoes
in the other. "Are you ready, Mistress ? said
She nodded her head.
"Very well, then. You take her bag, Jack,
and fetch along the overcoats. You may put
on your shoes out here on the steps, Mistress."
Dred waited until she had slipped her feet into
her shoes, and then he helped her down the


steps and out into the night. Jack followed
with the overcoats and the bundle, and so they
went together through the long dark grass down
to the landing. "This way, Mistress," said
Dred; and he led her out along the wharf to
where he and Jack had lashed the yawl to the
piles.' Jack stepped down into the boat, and
tossed the overcoats and the bundle into the
stern. Then he and Dred assisted the young
lady into it, and Jack seated her upon the
broad, bench-like seat that ran around the
stern of the boat, forming with the ster-thwart
a sort of cockpit.
That 's all now, is n't it ? said he.
"That's all," said Dred. "Ye be all ready
"Well well then, Dred," said Jack he
stood up in the boat and reached his hand
to Dred, who took it and held it,-" well, then,
good-by, Dred, good-by! I 'd give all I have
in the world if only you were going along."
Would ye ?" said Dred, as he held Jack's
hand tightly.
The young lady aroused herself. Is n't he
going too?" she said.
"He says not," said Jack.
"Why, d' ye see, Mistress," said Dred, "I
have n't been well. I 've had a bad fever, and
I 'm too weak and sick to be of any use."
Oh, I thought you were going too," said
she, with a tone of keen disappointment in her
voice; and Jack felt a dull, uncomfortable pang
that she should not be more willing to put all
her trust in him.
"Do come along," said he to Dred. "You
see the young lady ain't willing to trust me."
"Ye hain't got victuals enough, anyway,"
said Dred.
There 's two hams and two bags of biscuit,"
said Jack. "Why, 't is enough for six."
Dred stood silent, looking down into the
boat. Suddenly he burst out, "Well, I sup-
pose I '11 have to go. I know I be the eter-
nalest fool that ever stepped in shoe-leather!
If I go, and your father don't look arter me,
Mistress, there '11 be no such thing as thank-
fulness in the world."
But my father will care for you," said she.
" He '11 pay you well for bringing me back."
Dred jumped down into the boat.

D' ye mean it? cried Jack. D' ye mean
you '11 really go ?"
Why, you see I mean it," answered Dred,
gruffly,- almost angrily,- as he began casting
off the lines that held the yawl to the wharf.
"Oh, Dred!" cried Jack. He flung his arms
around the pirate, hugging him close, and al-
most kissing him in his joy.
"Let go o' me!" said Dred. "What d' ye
mean, hugging me like that ?" He tried to
thrust Jack away with his elbow. What '11
the young lady think of ye? Get away, I
say! And then he burst out laughing. Why,
what a young fool ye be, Jack! I knowed ye
could n't manage by yourself. But I tell ye
what 't is, Mistress, I depend on what you say.
If your father don't stand to me for this, there 's
no such thing as .thankfulness, for sure." He
and Jack were pushing off the yawl. "That's
it; shove her off a bit more now with the oar,"
said Dred. And then the yawl drifted off from
the end of the little wharf into the broad waters
of the creek.

COLONEL PARKER was still a very sick man,
but he had so far improved that he had begun
to take some steps for the recovery of his
daughter. Governor Spottiswood had come
up to Marlborough to see him, and had found
him very much broken with what had hap-
pened. "The villains! said the sick man; and
in speaking his lips trembled. "They murdered
my Ned, and now they have taken the only
other one that was left me!"
There was something infinitely pathetic in the
helplessness of the proud, great man, and his
twitching, trembling lips. The Governor could
not reply, but he pressed the hand he held.
Mr. Richard Parker stood by during the Gov-
ernor's visit. The Governor looked at him, and
wondered that he could be so unmoved; and
then he remembered that all this was an old
story to Richard Parker, while it was the first
time he had seen Colonel Parker since the mis-
fortune had happened. "Have you thought
of what steps had best be taken?" said the


"Why, yes, I have," said Colonel Parker;
and he put his weak hand to his forehead.
" My brother Richard seems to think it would
be better to wait till we have word from the
villains who kidnapped my Nelly." He turned
his eyes toward his brother as he spoke. But
I can't wait; I must do something to find her,
and I can't wait. Just as soon as I am well
enough I am going to take steps to find her."
The 'Pearl' and' Lyme' are lying at James-
town now," said the Governor. "I was talking
t' other day about your misfortune to some of
the officers who had come over to the palace.
Lieutenant Maynard was there. He said he
would be willing to raise volunteers, and to take
command of them, if only boats were supplied
to him. He is a brave and experienced officer,
and hath had to do with the pirates before at
Madagascar. He saith that a couple of small
sloops will be all that he will want, and be bet-
ter than a man-of-war for such business and in
shoal, coastwise water."
"Why, then, he shall have whatever he
wants," said Colonel Parker. "He shall please
himself in everything. There is my schooner
yonder-a good, stout boat, and fit for any
enterprise. How would she do, d' ye think? "
He seemed eager for and glad of anything that
would distract his mind from his trouble.
Methought that you would do whatever
was needed," said the Governor, glad to en-
courage him. I told Maynard so, and he hath
gone ahead to secure a fine, stout sloop. That
and the schooner will be all that he can need."
"I should advise to wait a little while longer,"
said Mr. Richard Parker, cutting into the talk.
"We have waited so long as this, and it can do
no harm to wait a little longer. I would rather
wait to hear from them. Of course they will
write to make some sort of a bargain sooner
or later. 'T is now over a month since she was
taken, and 't is only a matter of a little more
Patience broke in Colonel Parker, tremu-
lously. 'T is easy enough for you to talk of
patience, Richard; but how can I be patient
who have lost all I hold most precious in the
world? Oh, Nelly, Nelly he cried, covering
his eyes with his hands, "I would give all I
have in the world to have thee back again! "

Mr. Richard Parker said nothing further, but
he shrugged his shoulders.
Before the Governor went, he took Mr.
Richard Parker aside. "Sir," said he, "there
may be truth in what you say, and I will tell
Maynard what you say; but there is no doubt
that 't will be better to do something to arouse
your brother. He sitteth here eating his heart
out, and any action is better than none. I '11
advise Maynard that he lay off near the mouth
of the bay till he hears something that may
determine him what to do. Do you approve
of that ?"
Again Mr. Richard Parker shrugged his

Two boats were fitted out-the schooner
and a large sloop. It took maybe two weeks
to arm the boats and victual and man them.
Very unexpectedly, and at the last moment,
Colonel Parker himself took a berth in the
schooner. Mr. Richard Parker advised him
vehemently not to go, and Madam Parker be-
sought him with tears to remain at home. The
doctor assured him that it was at the risk of
his life that he went. Sir," said the great man
to the doctor, I have been a soldier. Shall I
then stay at home when my own daughter is in
danger, and let others do the fighting for me?
You shall go along, if you please, to look after
my poor body; but go I shall."
They sailed first to Norfolk, and then out into
the mouth of the bay. Colonel Parker's wish
was to sail directly to Ocracock, where the pirates
at that time were most apt to take shelter. But
Lieutenant Maynard was very firm in the opin-
ion that they should beat about in the bay until
they heard some news that might direct their
further action.
One morning, about ten o'clock, the lookout
in the foretop of the schooner sighted an open
boat under sail beating up into the bay. They
signaled to the sloop, which was about four
miles distant, to join them, and then ran down
toward the boat they had sighted, upon the
chance of gathering some news. As they came
near they could see that the boat was very
heavily loaded, and the lieutenant could make
out with the glass that there were some twenty
men and, apparently, two women aboard of



her. They could see the men in the boat
waving their hats, and presently they could
hear them cheer. The men were unshorn, di-
sheveled, -weather-beaten. The two women
looked weak and bedraggled.
Colonel Parker was not well that day, and
had remained in the cabin. Lieutenant May-
nard stood at the open gangway as the boat
and the schooner drifted nearer and nearer
Hullo Lieutenant Maynard called out.
"What boat is that?"
A man whose chin was bristling with a week's
growth of beard stood up in. the stern. The
jolly-boat of the bark Duchess Mary,' from
Southampton, bound for Charleston in South
Carolina," he called in answer, making a trum-
pet of his hands.
The rowers in the boat, alternately dipping
and raising their oars, drew her, rising and fall-
ing upon the lumpy sea, nearer and nearer to
the schooner. The poor wretches were all
looking up at the larger vessel, their rough,
hairy faces crowded together and turned up-
ward in the sunlight. "How d' ye come
here ? said Lieutenant Maynard. "Who 's
in command ?"
"I 'm in command," answered the man in
the stern of the boat,-" Edward Billings, first
mate. We was fired into by pirates, and sunk,
nine days ago. The two other boats, under
command of the captain and second mate, was
parted from us day afore yesterday."
As soon as the mate of the lost bark came.
aboard, the lieutenant led him into the cabin,
Colonel Parker was lying upon the seat, his
head upon a pillow, and a blanket spread over
him. He raised his head as the two entered.
This man is the first mate of a boat that hath
been attacked and sunk by the pirates," said
the lieutenant. I thought you would like to
hear what he hath to say from his own mouth."
"Why, then, indeed I would," said Colonel
Parker. He arose, and looked the shipwrecked
mate over. The man was very weather-beaten.
"Here, Cato! called Colonel Parker; and
then, as the negro appeared, Fetch in a bottle
of Madeira and some' biscuit. You '11 have
some refreshment, won't you, sir ?"
Thank ye kindly, sir," said the shipwrecked

first mate, scraping a bow, and touching his
forehead with his finger.
"Now, then," said Lieutenant Maynard,'"let
us hear about it."
The negro came in with the wine and bis-
cuit. The man poured himself out a glass of
Madeira, as he began telling his story. They
had, he said, nine days ago fallen in with two
vessels, both sloops, some hundred or hundred
and twenty miles off Cape Hatteras. The ves-
sels looked suspiciously like pirates, and they
had crowded on all sail to run from them;
but after two days' chase the pirates had come
up with them. The smaller of the two sloops
had overhauled them first, and the other being
more than a league away, they had made a
smart running fight with her, hoping to over-
power her before the other could come to her
aid. But they had not been able to do so,
and in the mean time the other had come up,
and they were forced to surrender. They had
cut up one of the sloops pretty badly; so,
perhaps out of revenge, after the pirates had
taken a lot of cloth goods, some bales of silk
and linen, and several casks of Madeira from
the Duchess Mary, they had fired a broadside
into her, in spite of her having surrendered.
The broadside had struck them heavily astern,
betwixt wind and water. There was a heavy
sea running at the time, and in spite of all
they could do they found the vessel was taking
in more water than they could pump away.
At last, finding that she was sinking, they had
gone off from her about sundown, and she had
gone down a half-hour later. Since then they
had been adrift. He said that they had had
ample provisions and water aboard, and that
they had not endured any especial hardships,
except from the weather,- a three days' blow
from the north having caused them a good
deal of trouble. He said that the captain's
and the second mate's boat had got parted
from them two nights before. The pirate Cap-
tain, he said, was a terrible-looking spectacle.
He had a long, black beard plaited .into three
plaits; and he had lighted slow-matches stuck
under his hat brim. "He looked," said the
mate, "like a raging fury, rather than like a
Christian creature."
"Why, then," said Lieutenant Maynard, "if






(SEE PAGE 319.)


that be so, I believe I know who 't was, and that
't was the famous Blackbeard. For so he nearly
always goes into a fight, sir, as this worthy man
describes him, with lighted slow-matches stuck
around his hat. I think, sir, we should put back
to Norfolk, and get those poor wretches ashore.
The authorities should be informed of this."
As the lieutenant and the mate of the Duchess
Mary came out of the roundhouse together, a
little man with a lean, dark face, a stringy
black beard covering his cheeks, and dressed in
a sort of nondescript costume, came straight up
to Mr. Maynard. He was one of those of the
rescued boat. Maynard looked the little man
over as he approached. "Well, my man," said
he, and what can I do for you? "
Sir," said the little man, I ask for nothing
but justice."
You go forward where you belong, Burton,"
said the mate of the rescued boat.
Not till the gentleman hears me," cried the
little man.
"What do you want?" said the lieutenant.
" What is the trouble ? "
Sir, I have been foully dealt with," said the
little man. I am a lawyer; my name is Roger
Burton. I am a man of repute, and held in
respect by all who know me. Sir, I was struck
upon the head and nearly killed; and while I
lay unconscious I was kidnapped, and came to
myself only to find myself aboard of a vessel
bound for the Americas."
He was one of a lot of redemption servants

brought aboard at Southampton," said the
"Well, I am sorry for you, my man, if what
you say is true," said the lieutenant; "but 't is
all none of my business. Many mei are brought
hither to America, as you say you have been,
and your case is not any worse than theirs."
"What, sir!" said the little man; "and is that
all the satisfaction I am to have ? Is that all
you have to say to me? I hold the position
of a gentleman, sir, in the eyes of the law. I
have the right to sign myself Esquire,' as you,
sir, have the right to sign yourself Lieutenant,'
and to go under a gentleman's title. Am I, then,
to be put off when I ask for justice ? "
I am not a magistrate," said the lieutenant.
"I am an officer in the navy. You are a law-
yer, you say. Well, then, you can plead your
own case wheil you get ashore."
Come now, Burton; you go forward where
you belong," said the mate.
"And will you, then, not listen to me ? cried
the little man.
"You heard what your commanding officer
said," said the lieutenant; did you not ? I
have told you all that I have to say. He told
you to go forward. I tell you that I am not a
magistrate, and cannot help you." Then the
little attorney walked away, dolefully.
"How many of those poor people had you
aboard ?" asked the lieutenant.
We had twenty-five in all. I had eleven with
me in the boat-nine men and two women."

(To be continued.)



BEYOND the gate of twilight lands,
Across the fields of night,
The fair To-morrow waiting stands
To greet the morning light.
So close your eyes, my 'sweetest sweet,
And close your eyes, :my dear,
And when you wake, for your sweet sake
To-morrow will be here.

And when you see her, hold her fast,
Lest she should slip away,
For some folk say she will not last,
But fades into to-day.
Yet-close your eyes, my sweetest sweet,
And close your eyes,, my dear,
And when you wake, for your sweet sake
To-morrow will be here.


IT was on one August morning,
Just between the dusk and dawning,
When the Dutch came down the bay
Where the English vessels lay;
And their hissing shot and shell
On the British flag-ship fell
Till two masts were shot away.

Then brave Narborough, discerning
How the. battle-tide was turning,
Strove in vain to signal aid
'Midst the blinding cannonade,
Till he called in accents loud:

"Is there one among this crowd
Who will risk his life for all ?"
Swift in answer to his call
Came a lad with eager face--
"Take and use me, sir!" he said.
"You can spare me from my place,
And death I do not dread."
So the cabin-boy that day,
'Midst the thunder and the flame,
Swam across the seething bay-
Far across,- a floating speck,-
Till, at last, unharmed he came
Where the waiting allies lay.

(KOl tsr



"'T is a miracle!" they said;
And, as one raised from the dead,
SSo they drew him up on deck.

Thus it was when hope had fled
From the British ranks that day,
And the fleet with sore dismay

And they scattered far and wide
All the enemy that night.

Then, amidst the shouts of joy,
Narborough called the dauntless boy
Who had turned the tide of war.
"Honor unto whom 't is due,


Saw their wounded and their dead
Falling fast on every side,
Suddenly there came in sight,
Bearing down upon the right,
With fresh guns, fresh men, fresh nerve,
All the longed-for, grand "reserve";

And we owe it all to you,
SCloudesley Shovel, brave and true!"
Said the Admiral, who foresaw
Even then a grand career
For this boy so void of fear;
And while cheer rose after cheer


For the hero of the hour,
"May I live," old Narborough
"Till I see you, lad, in power-
Till one day I see you stand
On the ship that you com-
mand !"

Years passed on-his wish came
For the Admiral lived to see
Cloudesley Shovel admiral too!
Well we know his history:
How he bravely faced the foe
At La Hogue and Malago-
Barcelona, Bantry Bay.

Victory after victory
Crowned the cabin-boy's career;
And Westminster's nave to-day,
'Mong her knights that knew no
Holds his name enshrined always !


__ ,/ Z




[Begun in the January number.]

That old enchanted Arabian grain, the Sesame, which
opens doors,- doors, not of robbers', but of Kings' Trea-
suries. -Ruskin.

"You blessed old Ruth," exclaimed Fran," we
shall not be fairly in college till we have been
received by the dear things to-night. And what
do you propose to wear, Johnny Rokesmith ? "
"Oh, Ma Boffin," answered Nathalie, "if
crying were not a lost art in the Bower, I should
lay me down right here and howl, for I have n't
a thing I can wear! Here it is only a month
since we came, and I feel like -I mean as if
- I were squeezed half to death in that pale-
yellow gown."
Hereupon Fran, toning down her merry face
and voice to an unearthly somberness, seized
Nathalie, and. forcing her into the "short-side"
step which they had just learned in gym.," be-
began to chant:
I' Stout er
Than I
U-used to-o be!
Still more
Corp u -
Lent- gro ow I!
There will -
Be- too
Muck of- me
In the -coming-- by and by!"
Nathalie laughed, and breaking away, sank
breathless into a chair; but Fran, studiously
scanning her face, cried, "There is still a tear
threatening the left side of your nose. You
need some more light-hearted exercise. Don't
you remember what the Prex -said about the
mental cheer to be gained from muscular exer-
tion? Come!" And dragging up the reluc-
tant Nathalie, she began again--this time the
"long-side ":

One two three four !
Gen-tle Jane-was-as good-as gold!
She always did as she was told.
She never spoke when her mouth was full;
Nor caught bluebottles, their legs to pull;
Nor spilt plum-jam on her best new frock;
Nor put white mice in the eight-day clock;
Nor vivisected her last new doll;
Nor fostered a passion for alcohol;
And when she grew up, she was given in marriage
To a first-class earl who kept his carriage."

By the time they reached this climax in
Jane's history, they had upset two chairs, nearly
knocked over the tea-table, and sent Ruth into
fits of laughter in a helpless heap on the lounge.
"There! said Fran. Now you are both
of you in a more reasonable state of mind!
We are now ready to proceed to the weightier
matter of a gown. Nathalie, that yellow gown of
yours must be received by the sophomores;
it 's far too fetching to be left out. I think
there are still some ducats in the Boffin bank,-
yes! We will go without lump-sugar in our
tea for a day or two, and get you some yellow
chrysanthemums to fill out the gap in the
belt,- for if you will come to college you must
"That is the most ingenious idea of yours! "
said Ruth, admiringly. Now, Odysseus, fer-
tile in resources,' if you will only help me about
the neck of this thing! "
Why should n't the Ma of the family ? re-
sponded Fran in a matter-of-fact way, taking
the needle from Ruth's fingers, and deftly gath-
ering up tiny knots of blue ribbon to surround
the slender throat.
Not only Ma of the Boffins, but president of
the freshman class, was Fran; and Pa and Our
Mutual Friend looked proudly on when they
saw her ushered in and officially presented to
the president and vice-president of the sopho-
The scene had a pleasant background. In


the wide gymnasium hall, the three walls with
their chest-weights and other apparatus, and the
balcony and platform on the fourth side, were
covered with pine-branches and pine-cones set
in big clusters,- the class colors of the sopho-

"The neophyte as the unsophisticated fresh-
man is most appropriately in white," said the
vice-president of the class, Miss Raymond, as she
and Fran joined the promenaders, having been
officially decorated with the freshman favors "

"1, I'u

4 ~-j ~PIC9~


mores -brown and green. Just behind the
receiving party was a ladder of four rounds,
set among the pine-branches, with the class
motto over it in Greek letters, Phosde. On
the second round had been placed a figure in
sophomore brown and green, leaning over to
help a figure in pure white just stepping up to
the first round.

--tiny brown bags with a green ribbon tied
around the fat neck of each, and neatly labeled
Oh, it only means that we wear the college
color till we choose something for our own,"
answered Fran, absently. "For my part, it
seems as if class colors, like novel-plots, are
exhausted in these days of overdoing things.

----FE --


But we must call a class meeting next week and
talk it over."
"Just gaze at Ruth!" whispered Nathalie,
passing on the arm of a silent, grim-looking
sophomore in a stiff black silk and gold-rimmed
spectacles. "Do you see her yonder, in the
corer, hobnobbing with the Greek professor?"

reached the mantelpiece .candles, not the sun,"
said Fran impatiently, with a backward glance
at the ladder. "Really, I do think, Ruth, this
is the tamest frolic I ever saw. It only shows
what a lot of girls with a few of the oldest
'profs'-for the young ones stay away-can do.
The next reception they have, I mean to have


"I mean to find out what they are talking
about," answered Fran, as the grim sophomore
marched Nathalie down the line, while Fran
slipped away from Miss Raymond, and caught
Ruth just leaving her professor.
"What do you mean by monopolizing one
fifth of the men in the room ? Can't you leave
him to the ladies, Pa Boffin ? And why do you
look so very solemn ? said Fran to Ruth.
"He was just speaking of the Phosde,' Light-
ward,'" said Ruth thoughtfully. "He made
it all seem very real and earnest, the ladder
"And when you get to the top, you have

my Amherst cousin over. He is a freckled
country boy,--I have always called him the
'Spring Chicken,' and when you see him, you '11
know exactly why. But he is livelier than four
hundred and fifty girls. I don't know the
twenty-seven I 've met to-night from any other
twenty-seven,-is n't it a farce! "
"Fran, dear, you are in a very bad humor,"
said Ruth. "I think it is one of the most
interesting entertainments I ever heard of,
myself. The Sophomore Glee Club will sing
now in a minute: they say they sing very well;
and there is a mandolin club. Have you a



Near the piano the buzz of talk stopped,
and the quiet gradually spread to the back of
the room, as the singing began: first to the
tune of "Where, oh where, are the Hebrew
Children ? "
Where, oh where, is our dear Prexie?
Where, oh where, is our dear Prexie?
Where, oh where, is our dear Prexie?
'Way over in the Promised Land!
He went up with the Minor Prophets,
He went up with the Minor Prophets,
He went up with the Minor Prophets,
'Way over in the Promised Land!
His last words were, "Two walks. a day! "
His last words were, "Two walks a day!"
His last words were, "Take two walks a day! "
'Way over in the Promised Land!

This song, with accompaniment of banjos
and much clapping, went through the names of
the faculty in a naive, unreserved fashion.
Two or three more of the familiar college
songs, in the intervals of promenade and fresh
introduction, and then the inevitable "Good
night, Ladies! and the freshmen were "fairly
in college," for the reception was over.

No receipt openeth the heart but a true friend, to
whom you may impart griefs, joys, fears, hopes, sus-
picions, counsels, and whatsoever lieth upon the heart
to oppress it, in a kind of civil shrift or confession.
-Bacon, "Of Friendship."

When Ma Boffin got home from the sopho-
more reception, she found Ruth already in bed,
with the gas turned low. There is scarcely any
state of affairs more conducive to crossness on
both sides.
The irritation that Ruth felt at being kept'
awake, she carefully covered with the remark:
"You would better turn up thelight, dear; you
can't undress in the dark;" to which Frances
replied with responsive self-control: Oh, yes,
I can! You go to sleep; you must be tired,
working on that committee!"
A silence followed, broken in about five min-
utes by a half-audible groan from Frances, as
she felt about on the floor for a dropped scarf-pin.
Ruth sighed effectively; then let out fifteen
VOL. XXII.-42.

minutes' worth of irritation in querulousness of
tone. I fail to see, myself, why your being a
popular girl, and all that, obliges you to stop
to talk to every girl in the college before you
come home. You 're a born politician!- But
you '11 pay for it with a headache to-morrow, if
you don't get to bed pretty soon."
Frances turned out the light altogether, and
crossing the room, kneeled down by Ruth's bed
and said softly:
"Ruth dear, I know I 'm a very trying girl
to room with, and I 'm cross to-night. But
now, truly, did you like that reception ? And
do you like walking and eating and reciting and
playing tennis and generally chumming, with
such quantities of girls ? Don't you ever think
it is pleasanter in the real world, with men and
women,-just a trifle more of spice ?"
"What do you mean? said Ruth, gently,-
greatly pleased with Fran's unusual affection-
ateness, but quite in the dark as to what she
was talking about.
"Oh, Ruth, have n't you felt so? Then
there 's no use of talking about it. But I gaze
around at those rows of girls in the dining-room,
and I think: Was it ever meant that a girl should
be taken away for four years from her life as
daughter and'sister at home, with all the train-
ing there is in that life for the future home-mak-
ing that comes to most women in some shape,
and be set down here, where she is just a bache-
lor student? Here we work our heads over
books or in the laboratories, and expend our so-
cial instincts on making groups of girls laugh
over our own little college jokes. The trouble
is that we don't go home in the afternoon, and
apply our geometry to planning the location of
the parlor rugs, or our. brightnesses to cheering
papa at dinner. We skip that for four years,
and it 's too long"
No, no, no! said Ruth warmly. You are
wrong, Ma Boffin! How can you talk so? It
seems to me that you are disloyal to the whole
life here, and to the whole question of the
Higher Education of Women. You can't mean
it. Don't you remember what the college cata-
logue says, that' the training here is to fit us to
do better our work in life, whatever that work
may be' ? Does knowing Greek unfit a girl for
making biscuit ?"




Ideally, never! Practically it may unfit her
for home duties nine times out of ten."
Don't you believe that every woman, in this
age and country, should be fitted to make her
own way? Come, Fran, you say I 'm a hope-
less idealist; but that is practical enough! You
know what an advantage college training gives
a woman there."
Ruth, being fond of reasoning, would.have
gone on for hours, analyzing and meeting ob-
jections. But Frances, having stated her be-
liefs, acquired quite as much by intuition and
observation as by logic, was tired of the argu-
ment, and leaving the shaft she had sent to do
its own work, said with her usual directness:
It 's high time we were asleep."
"Nathalie looked lovely to-night, did n't
she ?" Ruth remarked, .to break what she felt
was an awkward silence, as Fran bent to kiss
her good night.
There 's more grit in that soft-voiced little
bit of humanity than appears in her naive
smile," Fran replied, with decision. "Of course
she is a mere child,- years younger, practically,
than either of us, Ruth. But she has a store of
resolution. She has been used, all her life, to
having one darky bring her hot water in the
morning, and another one turn out her light at
night; and now do you see how plucky she
is about doing things for herself here? Pauvre
petite/ she 's homesick almost every evening;
but when she feels like crying, she marches
over to the Music Building and works 'like a
nigger,' as she would say, at her voice. And
it is very hard, up-hill work, that vocal prac-
tice. Professor Letowski takes her for a mere
afternoon-tea singer; and she does not look
like a serious worker, and her training has
been very amateurish. But she is determined
to make him change his mind about her. The
other night I went over to Music Hall, and
found the child singing away for dear life, on
the stupidest of exercises, with a tear rolling
down each side of that dear little nose and
balancing on the tilt of it! "
Fran's picture was so vividly droll, that Ruth
laughed as heartily as Fran herself had laughed
on the real occasion. Then both yawned, and
then laughed again. And as the college clock
struck one, Fran crept to her own little bed.

"You 've admitted that college life is doing
something for Nathalie," was Ruth's parting
Oh, yes; it is stiffening her spinal column,"
Fran answered amicably.
Meanwhile Nathalie lay sound asleep in num-
ber twenty-eight.

For beauty, truth, and goodness are not obsolete;
they are as indigenous in Massachusetts as in Tuscany
or the Isles of Greece. Emerson, "Art."

OUR older New England universities set a
worthy example before the younger generation
of colleges, in sending out their students, for
one whole day in golden October, to live
among the everlasting hills.
On other days their young men and women
may geologize over rock-strata, and botanize
among flower-petals. But for this once they
must lay aside hammer and glass and dissect-
ing-needle, to breathe into their lungs the clear
air of the hilltops, and into their hearts the
beauty of autumn sky and frost-painted foliage.
And so Ruth found herself keeping Moun-
tain Day at Smith College, as her father had
kept it, thirty years before, at Williams.
Great plans were on foot; and parties-big
and jolly, or select and intimate-were pack-
ing luncheons, and folding shawls, and donning
gloves and hats, while horses of all sorts and con-
ditions, from all the neighboring livery-stables,
were pulling up before the houses vehicles of
the oddest shapes and sizes.
The Boffin party was unique. Ruth, natu-
rally a philanthropist, and trained to. city mis-
sionary work at home, had taken charge of a
class of young women in one of the town Sun-
day-schools. Most of this class were mill-hands.
Alternately laughed at and sympathized with by
Fran and Nathalie, she had begged of the mill-
manager that she might have the ten girls for
this one day.
Having gained her point, and her invitation
being most eagerly accepted by all ten, she had,
about a week beforehand, consulted with the
other Boffins about ways and means. Fran was,
as usual, the only one who had any "ducats"



beyond enough to keep her in postage-stamps,
and the problem began to look rather serious.
"It is just like me! said Ruth, dolefully.
" I am a theorist, as you 've always said, Fran
dear! I never thought of the money! But if
we take them to The Orient, or Mount Tom, or
even to Sugarloaf, we shall need a big buck-
board and four horses, and that will be fifteen
dollars! "
There is only one way to manage it! said
Fran, with all businesslike severity. We must
earn the money. And it can be done-easily
enough. There!" and fishing out of the waste-
basket a huge piece of brown wrapping-paper,
she smoothed the creases and printed on it, in
clear, large letters:

Are prepared to serve the public in the following particu-
lars, for one week, beginning October the twentieth:
Tennis-courts marked out, with superb quality of
whitewash, warranted right angles at the corners,
per court .................................. $0.75
Beds made, each ... ......................... 10
Shoe-buttons sewed on, each ................... 05
Stocking-holes darned, per square inch ......... .15
Walnut or date-creams, home-made, per lb........ .60
H ot waffles, each ............................. .. o
Notes on lectures copied with gold pen, per page. .Io
with stylo," per page.. .05

"Voild! If we don't make fifteen dollars out of
that, I 'm an Irishman "
The notice was pinned up at the end of the
corridor; and within a few days seventeen dol-
lars and eighty-five cents in silver and copper
jingled merrily in the Boffins' bank.
The result was now seen in the shape of a
long wagon with two seats along the sides,-
known thereabouts as a "barge,"-filled with
Ruth's mill-girls, while the Boffins and Mother
Hubbard, whom they had captured for the
scheme, were ingeniously sprinkled about as en-
tertaining committee.
Ruth, pleased with her plan's success, threw
herself conscientiously into the work of talking
to the two girls beside her. Fran, entering into
the affair with the more humafi notion of the
fun to be had out of the occasion, managed to

distribute her enjoyment as far as her voice
and laugh could reach. And Nathalie sat
next to Mother Hubbard, smiling at Fran's
jokes, and trying to be unconscious of the very
admiring stare of the girl opposite, who had an
eye for delicate beauty and no shyness in enjoy-
ing it.
Through the country they drove for four
hours of a perfect October forenoon. Now and
then a long farm-house stretched beside the
road its length of kitchen and wood-house and
barns, and was flanked by fields of yellow
pumpkins gathered into piles or lying in rows at
the foot of deserted bean-poles.
Ahead, Mount Holyoke and her "sister peak,
Mount Tom" (so called by an Amherst fresh-
man in one of his compositions) lifted their
heads and looked across at each other, like old
friends wondering how the rift had come be-
tween them.
Very hungry the girls were when, at noon,
they drew up in front of a big inn at the foot of
Sugarloaf, where they had planned to add hot
coffee to their luncheon.
Refreshed by biscuit and chicken, they started
afoot up the hill, along a road too steep and
woody for the horses, and were rewarded by
a view, somewhat shut in, but mellowed and
harmonized by the warm haze almost like that
of an Indian summer.
Back again at the inn, seated around on the
floor before a log fire, they suggested that some
one should tell a story during the time they had
to spare before starting for home. Fran urged
Ruth to lead off, but Mother Hubbard said:
"We have just about time for one short story,
and I move that we draw lots for the teller."
The lot, decided by drawing slips of paper from
Fran's sailor-hat, fell to Nathalie. So, after
much urging by Pa and Ma, she began:
"We have an old negress on our plantation
at home, my old Mammy, who is very fond of
hearing her 'young Miss' sing. There was one
song she just loved to hear. Fran, if you '11
get my guitar, I '11 sing it for them."
Surprised at the shy Nathalie's forwardness,
Fran encouraged it with a bright smile and
a pat on the shoulder, as she handed her the
guitar, and whispered: That 's fine, John


Nathalie took it, and sang -less and. less
consciously as she went on:

"Ask nothing more of me, Sweet!
All I can give you, I give!
Heart of my heart, were it more,
More should be laid at your feet!
Love that should-help you to-live!
Song that should spur you to soar!
Ask nothing more of me, Sweet-
Ask nothing more, nothing more! "

Everybody was quiet as Nathalie ended--
very simply, with a pathetic little twang in the
last line, as if tired out with the fervor of the
words and music. Then she laughed, a little
nervously, and went on:
"You see, old Mammy had stopped her
dusting so often to hear me sing that, she
pretty nearly knew it by heart. And one day
Mama and I were walking up the terraces from
the river, about four o'clock in the evening, and
we heard Mammy's voice a-quaverin' away,
and we stopped and listened. And there was
old Jake, the gardener, a-sitting on the kitchen

step, looking up at Mammy in the most love-
sick way,- and she a-singing:
(Here Nathalie again took up the guitar.)

"Ask nuffin moh ob me, Honey!
All I can gib, I gib yoh.
Haht ob my haht, was it moak,
Moh should-be laid at yoh feet!
Lub dat should help yoh to lib,
Song dat should make yoh soak, Honey!
Ask nuffin moh ob me, Honey!
Don' yoh be askin' no moah!"

Nathalie positively refused a very persistent
encore to the dramatic little tale, and took
modestly, but with a blush of pleasure, the ap-
plause accorded to her amusing story with its
guitar accompaniment.
The drive home was even gayer than in the
morning, as the guests had lost their shyness.
The mill-girls' thoughts were lingering over the
day's pleasure, or sobering to the remembered
work of the morrow, with its endless clattering
of heartless iron spindles. Ruth could not
keep her head from puzzling over certain
mysteries of wealth and poverty.

(To be continued.)





HE was out of sorts, was Theodore Hays.
He felt that he was ill used, and perhaps you
know what that is. It makes a body feel as if
he were better than the rest of the world,
and oh, bitter thought -as if the rest of the
world was indifferent to the fact..
The real state of the case was this. Theo-
dore had been sick with the measles, and now he
was in a state of convalescence that made him
as cross as a little bear. Besides, the whole
family were going to "Barnum's." They had
delayed this annual dissipation till the very last
night possible, and even then the doctor had
forbidden Theodore to go. From this you will
see that if ever a boy had a .right to be cross,
that boy was Theodore Hays.
Because Theodore was really a capital fel-
low, I will not describe at length the scene
that greeted his-Aunt Alma when she stepped
in, that particular evening, to read him a few
stories from a certain magazine.
"Oh, bother! I hate stories-I hate every-
thing and everybody- and I hate the circus,
too! But-oh, dear!" he inconsistently wailed,
"I did just want to go like sixty!"
"There-there! Teddie boy," said his mo-
ther; "don't make us all unhappy. Here is
Aunt Alma, who has come to spend the even-
ing with you. And I have told Annie to bring
you something nice at exactly nine o'clock. So
have just as good a time as you can, and then
we all will have a pleasanter evening."
There certainly was something rather invit-
ing in the prospect, after all. Aunt Alma was
always good company, and--what- was Annie
to bring him at nine o'clock ? Was it to be
oranges, or grape-fruit, or wine-jelly ?
Well, the front door closed at length, and

before any more troublesome thoughts could
intrude, Aunt Alma said brightly:
"What shall it be to-night, Ted? Shall I read
you a story, or shall we play a few games ? "
By this time Theodore had bravely resolved
to allow his Aunt Alma to entertain him without
making a too desperate resistance, so he said,
almost amiably:
Do you know any nice new games, Aunt
"I know two 'slate-games' that are so old
they will be quite new to you, Ted."
Ted's slate was close at hand, and the first
game they played was called "Patchwork."
First of all, Aunt Alma put ever so many dots
on the slate in a square form, like this:


Aunt Alma and Ted began drawing lines
from one dot to another, in turn. Soon the
slate looked like this:

I, *\ I

The game required each player to make a
line in turn, and each player tried to make the

line without enabling the opponent to complete
a square. As often as a player completed a
square he earned the right to make another
line at once.
Before he knew it, Ted was completely ab-
sorbed. It was really exciting: for, as has been
stated, when a player added a fourth side to a
square he had the privilege not only of adding
another line just as often as he completed a
square, but he could put his own mark inside
the square. Ted used an x, and Aunt Alma
an O.
At length Aunt Alma was forced to add a
third side to a square, and she prudently drew
it on the lowest line at the right hand. Ted
saw his chance, triumphantly completed one
square-two squares! and put an x in them,-

o--o --*----*


He was so elated with his success that his
next line was drawn without caution, and this
enabled his opponent to make a fine show-
ing; for when he drew an upright line at the
extreme left between the lowest two dots, as
shown in the diagram just above, he lost not
only one, but ten squares; for she could com-
plete all marked with an O, as shown-here.

o. 0
o |o

0 0 X0 X0

Then Aunt Alma filled in another line, and
Ted had the pleasure of making a large X in
each of the four remaining squares.
You see that Ted gained only six squares,
while Aunt Alma made ten.


Not a very good showing," said Ted.
"But I warn you, Aunt Alma, that I see
through it now, and in the next game I '11 beat
you badly. Please make another diagram, only
make it a great deal bigger; for I 'm going to
scoop in squares by the dozen."
So Aunt Alma made one diagram after an-
other, each diagram having more dots in the

beginning than the one that went before. Ted
was so interested that he forgot all else; and
when a square containing one hundred dots at
the beginning had been made into "patch-
work," Ted counted in it three more squares
to his credit than there were to his aunt's.
"There, Aunt Alma! How do you like be-
ing beaten at your own game ? "
"I like it so little," said Aunt Alma, pretend-
ing to be very much dejected, "that I propose
another game called Touch-me-not.'"
"All right," assented Ted.
It was very easy to learn; and I think Ted
liked it better than Patchwork," which, he
confided to his aunt, "sounded more like a
girl's game than a boy's."
This is the way the slate looked before the
game began:


Aunt Alma, without letting Ted know which
one she chose, wrote one of the fifteen numbers
on the back of the slate; and Ted tried to mark
other numbers than the one she had chosen,
but at last he checked off I5.

Now 15 was the number written on the back
of the slate, and therefore Ted counted all the
numbers beside which he had drawn lines; so
his corner of the slate had a large 9 placed in it,

and Aunt Alma, who could only count the un-
checked numbers as her share, had a modest
6 placed to her account.
Then Ted wrote a number on the back of
the slate, and Aunt Alma checked off the num-
bers. Whoever first made 50 (or any number
previously agreed upon), won the game.
Never mind who gained the first victory. I
will show you how the slate looked when they
were finishing their fourth game of Touch-me-
not." In this game they made the number
to be reached 1oo instead of 50.

Ted gave a long, low whistle as he checked
off his eleventh number and won the game.
Just then the clock struck nine, and- Annie
rapped gently at the door.
Come in," said Aunt Alma.
Annie bore a tray, and on it was some ice-
cream, pistache and strawberry, Ted's favorite
flavors, in the prettiest mold you ever saw.
There were lady-fingers, too.
All games were suspended for the evening,
and Ted, who had entirely recovered his good
nature, said graciously half an hour later, as his
aunt was getting ready to go home:
"You 're a brick, Aunt Alma! This has
been almost as good as 'Barnum's.'"

(Eleventh fafer of the series, Quadrupeds ofNorth America.")


A LARGE number of ST. NICHOLAS boys
should know a great deal about moles by per-
sonal observation. In very many regions of
the United States moles are plentiful and
cheap, and are easily investigated. In a clay
country they are not so abundant as elsewhere,
because wherever clay soil predominates it
bakes so hard on the surface that it interferes
seriously with. the mole's business. Buffalo
clay, for instance, is forever safe from his at-
tacks; for, powerful as-he is, I don't believe
he will be able to drive any tunnels under its
flinty surface until nature provides him with a
rock-drill, and electric power to run it.
Wherever you find loose or sandy soil, with
sufficient annual rainfall to support earth-
worms, look for moles, and you will be likely
to find them. Sandy Florida is a great place
for these animals, but the fact that the soil is
mostly clear sand is. a drawback .to tunneling.
The tunnels fill up so quickly it is rather dis-
couraging. I was once much surprised to find
where a mole had left the shelter of the saw-
palmettos, and tunneled down beneath the naked
ocean beach for a hundred feet or more. It
looked on the surface as if he had started for
the briny deep to get a drink, but when I
caught him he assured me he was hunting for
a tiny little crustacean called the sand-flea, that
burrows in the sand.
Central Indiana is a perfect mole's paradise,
-his "happy hunting-ground," in which dig-
ging is easy, all his improvements are perma-
nent, worms and garden vegetables are plentiful,
and escape is easy. Not long ago, I invaded
that particular portion of his domain; and dur-
ing a brief halt improved the shining hour by
interviewing some of the inhabitants of the
underground world. We found the COMMON
MOLE at home; and al-
COMMON MOLEthough it was the middle of
(Scalo s a-quat'i-cs.) April, and gloriously warm

at that, he was still to be found in his winter-
quarters the bottom of a snug potato-hole
in the garden, where, in a very comfortable
nest, were two young ones two and a half
inches long.
The mole was invented expressly for digging
and tunneling in the earth, just as particularly
as a bird was made to fly, and a fish to swim!
Catch the first one you can, tie a long string to
one of his hind legs, and then devote an hour
to studying him. Even though you never be-
fore thought of such a thing as studying the
form of a small quadruped, you will surely find
the mole interesting.
And what a curious little beast he is, to be
sure! In appearance he is merely a flattened,
oblong ball of very fine and soft, shimmering
gray fur, pointed and footed at both ends.
From the end of his nose to the insertion of his
tail, he measures -six and a quarter inches, and
his naked little pinky-white tail looks like an
angle-worm one and three quarter inches long.
His nose projects half an inch beyond his
mouth, and it feels as hard as if it had a bone
in it.. It terminates in a broad, flattened point,
shaped for all the world like a rock-drill-and
the way in which it can bore through the earth
is astonishing.
But his fore feet! They are three quarters
of an inch wide, but less than an inch in length,
including the claws, the longest of which mea-
sures nearly half an inch. Each foot is a minia-
ture spade, armed with very sharp and powerful
claws, formed like chisels, for cutting earth.
The fore legs have no length whatever, the feet
being set on to the body edgewise, close beside
the jaws, with the soles outward. The ends of
the claws point as far forward as the end of the
Now place the wriggling and restive little
creature upon the ground, on a spot where
the ground is not unreasonably hard, so that he


may have a fair chance for disappearing, and
see what he will do.
The instant he touches the earth, down goes
his nose, feeling nervously here and there for a
place to start his drill. In about one second he
has found a suitable spot. His nose sinks
into the soil as if it were a brad-awl, with a half
boring and half pushing motion, and in an
instant half your mole's head is buried from
view. Now watch sharply, or he will be out
of sight before you see how he does it. Up
comes his powerful right foot, sliding close
along the side of his head, straight forward,
edgewise, to the end of his nose. His five-
pointed chisel cuts the earth vertically until it
reaches as far forward as his short reach will let
it go; then, with a quick motion, he pries the
earth sidewise from his nose, and so makes quite
an opening. Instantly the left foot does the
same thing on the other side, and meanwhile
the gimlet-pointed nose has gone right on
boring. Infive seconds, by the watch, his body
is entirely out of sight, and only his funny little
tail, can be seen. In three minutes he will
tunnel a foot, if he is at all in a hurry to get
on in the world.
Now, suppose you kill him, for the fact is.
that he is a nuisance, and sit down in the shade
to skin him, slowly and carefully, with your
pocket-knife. You will undoubtedly be sur-
prised at the remarkable form of the creature's
fore legs. The arm and forearm is a big, hard
bundle of tough muscles and powerful tendons,
giving the skinned fore leg a shape like an In-
dian club, and of enormous size in proportion to
the creature's body. A 16o-pound man built
in the same proportion would have a biceps as
large around as a peck measure, and strength
enough in it to dig like a steam-shovel.
With the animal's skin off, you will see how
curiously the wedge-like head lies between the
club-like fore legs, and their living spades. Ex-
ternally there is no eye visible; but if you look
just right you can distinguish, under the skin, a
tiny dark speck where the eye ought to be, and
probably is. In skinning the head, you find
that the eye is completely covered by the skin,
and can be useful only to distinguish daylight
from darkness. The eye-ball is about the size
of a small pin-head, quite without a bony orbit,
VOL. XXII.-43.

and is found floating on a tiny stem between
the flesh of the head and the skin.
The skeleton is curiously constructed, espe-
cially that portion of it which constitutes the
digging apparatus. The stomach contains the
remains of earthworms and insects, but so
finely pulverized by the teeth that no portion
of the contents is recognizable any further.
Desiring to learn just how much tunneling
a mole can do in a known number of hours, we
caught a good large specimen, and immediately
turned it loose in the middle of a five-acre field
of clover. The grass was so thin and winter-
killed that the ground was practically bare, but
not loose like the soil of a cultivated field.
Five seconds after the mole received its free-
dom, it had burrowed out of sight. This may
seem past belief, but the fact is vouched for
by the official timekeeper. Sticking a stake
at the starting-point, we retired and left the
digger hard at work.
The start was made at iI A. M., and the
direction taken was eastward. By 6 P. M. the
mole had dug 23 feet in a zigzag line, but keep-
ing the same general direction all the time, and
without digging any side-galleries. By 1 A. M.
of the following day the tunnel had been driven
31 feet farther, with numerous side-galleries, and
4 feet had been added at the end next to the
starting-point. In another hour Io feet had
been added at the extremity, making 68 feet of
main line and 362 feet of branches, or a total
of 104y feet of tunnels, dug in 25 hours. The
bottom of the tunnels ran very evenly about 4
inches below the surface. Sometimes the hole
was elliptical in shape, measuring Iy inches in
width by 2 inches in height, and sometimes it
was triangular, measuring 2 inches each way.
The surface of the ground was usually cracked,
and raised about an inch along the course of
the tunnel. I made a careful map of the doings
of this mole, drawn to scale along a base-line,
and it is reproduced on the following page.
When the time came to catch our mole
again, it proved to be no easy matter. Starting
in at one end, we laid bare the entire system
of tunnels without finding their maker, and
finally gave up the search; but a renewed effort
presently revealed his hiding-place at the point
indicated on the map. He was found at the



bottom of a steep hole, about eighteen inches
below the surface.
One thing is very evident from a single


glance at the map: though perpetually blind,
and working underground in total darkness, the
mole has a sense of direction which enables
him to run a tunnel in a given direction for a
long distance. To be sure, his magnetic needle
varies a good deal now and then, as it does in
the compass of the mariner; but each time he
manages to correct his bearings, and get back
to his true course in a way which, in a blind
animal working underground, strikes me as really
While the favorite food of the mole consists
of worms and burrowing insects of all sorts, he



is said to delight in such garden vegetables as
sweet potatoes, beets, carrots, white potatoes, and,
in fact, almost any root that is soft enough to eat.


--A \\

In the corn-fields, the Indiana boys say the
moles play havoc with the seed-corn when it
is soft and sprouting in May, and that often a
mole will follow up a corn-row for a rod or two,
and eat every grain as he goes, until he has
had enough.

25fH HOUR.

560FT. 11 A.M. NEXT DAY.
S (24 HOURS.)




6 PM.

10 Pr.

11 A.M.


I called up some of the farmers' boys of
mole-land, and inquired of them who could
tell me from personal observation about the
home ranch of the mole. A bright young lad
named Lawrence Miller responded with a full
description of a mole's home that he had once



dug out, and he also made for me a diagram of
it, which is reproduced on this page. He de-
scribed it as a dome-shaped hole in the earth

in different directions. Near the top of the
chamber was a sort of shelf, made by digging
a pocket into the wall, on which was a handful
of soft material, and which was evidently a bed
whereon the young had lain. It was occupied
by a mole at the very moment the interior of
the burrow was exposed to view.
This burrow is much more simple in con-
struction than the elaborate, many storied and
many roomed "fortress" of the European Mole
described by Mr. Bell, the mechanical construc-
tion of which must be truly wonderful.
Besides the COMMON MOLE, which inhabits
the eastern United States generally, we have
the PRAIRIE or SILVER MOLE of the prairie re-
gions of the Mississippi Valley; the HAIRY-
TAILED MOLE of' the eastern United States;
Townsend's OREGON MOLE of the Pacific
Slope; and the STAR-NOSED MOLE of the
northeastern United States and Canada. The


near the edge of a bank, about two feet below
the surface, and reached from above by a hole
that ran down slanting into its top. The bur-
row was about a foot wide at the bottom, where
three small side galleries ran off about six inches

last-named species has a remarkable star-like
appendage on the end of its nose. One other
species and two sub-species complete the list.
After the moles comes another family of in-
sect-eaters, called the SHREWS. There are now


twenty-seven recognized species and sub-species
belonging to North America, and it is quite prob-
able that a good many new species remain to
be discovered. These are all tiny creatures, no
larger than mice, and very mouse-like in form,
the principal external differences being found
in their long, slender noses, the absence of long
external ears, and the diminutive size of the
eyes. The differences that distinguish the vari-
ous species are very slight, and it is out of the
question to define them here.



The shrews have small,
mouse-like fore feet, not
at all fitted for digging,
SSOLE F FOOT, and they do not burrow
in the earth as does the
mole. They prefer to live in quiet woodlands,
where ready-made holes are plentiful, under
logs, tree-roots, and stones, where insects are
abundant, and it is safe to go about. Strangely

enough, some species are quite aquatic in their
habits, and make their homes in the brushwood
that lines the banks of quiet streams or ponds,
where aquatic insects thrive.
I am best acquainted with the SHORT-TAILED
SHORT-TAILED SHREW. as it is sometimes called.
(Bla-ri'na bre-vi-cau'da.)
While I cannot say for
certain that it is as water-loving in its habits as
the WATER-SHREW and some other species, I
can vouch for the fact that
WATER-SHREW. it has water-tight external
(Ne-o-so'rex nav'i-ga-tor.)
ears ofwonderful construc-
tion. There is a large, movable lobe which serves
to close the ear-opening as tightly as if a piece
of rubber were glued over it, and the greater
the pressure of water upon it, the tighter it will
close. In diving,
the ear closes in-
stantly. The Short-
Tailed Shrew is the .
largest of all Amer- -
ican shrews, some-
times attaining four .-
inches in length of
head and body, with AMERICAN WATER-SHREW.
one inch of tail.
The shrews are distributed very generally
throughout North America, from Central
Alaska to Costa
Rica, and from
S one side of our
big continent to
the other. They
Inhabit all kinds
of country, from
Sthe swamps to
mountain- tops,
hot and cold,
wet and dry.
TEETH OF SHREW. But notwith-
standing the considerable number of spe-
cies, and their wide distribution, they are so
seldom seen, either abroad in the daytime, or
at home, that very little is known of their habits,
and much remains to be found out.



GRANDMOTHER'S voice was always mild,
And at every-day troubles she always smiled;
For she used to say
Frowns did n't pay,
As she had learned when the merest child.
And whenever we cried for a fancied wrong,
Grandmother used to sing this song:
"To-day, to-day,
Let's all be gay;
We may sorrow.
My dear, don't fret
For what's not yet;
For you make a trouble double
when you borrow."

Ah me! 't is many a lonesome year
Since grandmother's song has reached my ear;
And I sigh my sigh
For the days gone by,
For you went with them, grandmother dear.
But I still have left your quaint old song,
And that I shall sing and pass along:
"To-day, to-day,
Let 's all be gay;
We may sorrow.
My dear, don't fret
For what 's not yet;
For you make a trouble double
when you borrow."

JI Edmund K Cooke.




A mighty hunter- Daniel Boone--
There never was one bolder--
Went to Kentucky, all alone,
With his rifle on his shoulder.

Then he returned and brought his friends
To help him take possession:
Strong, hardy people, too, they were,
Of courage and discretion. -
"The blue-grass region" of the State
Saw many a bloody battle:
'T is famous for tobacco farms,
Fine horses, sheep, and cattle.
Kentucky has the Mammoth Cave,-
A palace under ground,-
And there the Echo River flows,
Where eyeless fish are found.



10..4"E XoNQ ON
In. q- ,,,,,


,v -.- .--, 4..--. .'",ii

S.- --: '-

Of Tennessee the meaning -
Is, River with the bend," ~ I
Whose waters run below the State,
And across, at either end.
This State mines coal and iron
And marble, pink or green;
It has a healthy climate,
And many a lovely scene.
Knoxville, Nashville, Memphis,
Are handsome cities three,-
And Chattanooga also
Is worth a trip to see.

The heights of Lookout Mountain
Above the mist and cloud,
Once knew the tread of armies,
And roar of battle loud.

Of Tenesse the eanin .... =: :

( Y


ONCE upon a time there was a very small mouse with a very, very large
opinion of himself. What he did n't know his own grandmother could n't
tell him.
"You 'd better keep a bright eye in your head, these days," said she,
one chilly afternoon. "Your gran'ther has smelled a trap."
"Scat!" answered the small mouse;-"'s if I don't know a trap when
I see it!" And that was all the thanks she got for her good advice.
Go your own way, for you will go no other," the wise old mouse
said to herself; and she scratched her nose slowly and sadly as she watched
her grandson scamper up the cellar stairs.
"Ah!" sniffed he, poking his whiskers into a crack of the dining-room
cupboard, "cheese-as I'm alive !" Scuttle-scuttle. "I '11 be squizzled, if
it is n't in that cunning little house; I know what that is-a cheese-house, of





course. What a very snug hall! That's the way with cheese-houses. I know,
'cause I 've heard the dairymaid talk about 'em. It must be rather incon-
venient, though, to carry milk up that step and through an iron door. I
know why it 's
so open-to let,
in fresh air. I
tell you, that
cheese is good!
Kind of a re-
ception-room in
there-guess I -
know a recep-
tion-room from
a hole in the
wall. No trouble
at all about getting in, either. Would n't grandmother open her eyes to
see me here! Guess I '11 take another nibble at that cheese, and go out.
What's that noise? What in squeaks is the matter with the door? This is
a cheese-house, I know it is,-but what if it should turn out to be a -
O-o-o-eeee!" And that 's just what it did turn out to be.

VOL. XXII.-44.



bird was tied to a stake in the back yard, and the fowls
would go several times a day to look at him. One rooster,
more courageous than the rest, concluded to get ac-
quainted with the enemy. In some way they succeeded
in communicating together and establishing a bond of
friendship. They were constantly together, and after
the hawk's wounds had healed and he was liberated, he
would spend a portion of each day with his friend the
rooster, paying no attention to the other chickens. In
some way he must have told the other hawks that our
flock was under his especial care; for we were never
troubled with them afterward, although before that we
had lost a great many chickens."-Exchange.


THE following amusing story of how a big dog cham-
pioned the cause of a little one was told by William Fitz-
gerald of Boston:
I knew a farmer, who lived a few miles from Boston,
who used to come to the city every day to sell produce.
This man had two dogs one abigpowerful mastiff, which
used to guard the premises while the farmer was away;
and the other a bright little terrier that always rode to
market on the seat with his master.
One day, when the farmer stopped at a house on the
way to deliver some vegetables, a large dog rushed out
of the yard, seized the little terrier by the neck, and
would have killed him but for the timely interference of
his master. The next day, when a mile or so on his way
to market, the man discovered that the big dog was fol-
lowing the wagon. He ordered him back, but the dog
would not obey; he cut him with his whip, but still the
dog remained resolute. Finally the farmer gave it up,
and continued on his way.
When they came to the scene of the conflict of the
previous day, the same large dog flew out again to attack
the little one. Whereupon the big dog, who had con-
cealed himself under the wagon to await developments,
fell upon the enemy with such fury that it was with diffi-
culty he could be restrained from making an end of him
altogether. All this time the little terrier was perched
upon the seat almost barking his heart out for joy. After
the dogs were separated, the big one evidently regarded
his mission as fulfilled, as he at once trotted home by
himself."-St. Louis Globe-Democrat.


"THE most peculiar friendship I ever saw formed was
one between a hawk and a rooster," said a traveler re-
cently. "One day, when living on a farm in western
Pennsylvania, I shot and wounded a hawk. When I
picked up the bird I found that its wings were broken,
but otherwise it was uninjured. My sister begged that
the creature's life be spared, and the request was granted.
Within a few days the hawk had become quite tame, and
would come to us for its food when we called it. The
chickens were greatly frightened at its presence, and kept
up considerable fuss. This soon wore off, and in a short
time its presence was taken as a matter of course. The


I DON'T believe 't was hard to do,
When Homer wrote of Troy;
There were no rules for him to watch,
No grammars to annoy.
He had no slang to guard against,
He spelt the easiest way;
The subjects were not threadbare then,
Because he had first say.

And Dante had it easy, too,
In Florence when he wrote;
He made each phrase as he went on;
There were no words to quote.
The common talk of every day
Was good enough to use;
"Too trite" was something never heard;
There were no terms to choose.

Old Chaucer had no task at all;
He wrote what came along;
He put down just what people said,
And could n't spell words wrong.
You see no one had tried before
To write this brand-new speech,
So Chaucer fixed it his own way
For all the schools to teach.

It was n't bad when Shakspere lived ;
The right no one could tell;
There were no dictionaries then-
No wonder he wrote well.
Now it gets harder all the time;
Each word must mean just so;
The very turn you 'd like the best
Is one that will not go.
Journal of Education.


FOOT-BALL kickers and kickers against foot-ball may
both find it interesting that in England nearly 300 years
ago, King James I., by decree," did debarre all rough and


violent exercises, as the football, meeter for laming than
making able the users thereof." Waller, the English
poet, says of the game that the players "salute so
rudely breast to breast, their encounter seems too rough
for jest." The game was not in favor at court three cen-
turies before King James; for Edward III. is on record
as preferring archery to foot-ball, as the more useful and
warlike game. But neither of the two kings named ever
saw a really scientific game, such as they might see if
they were privileged to sit on the bleaching boards at
Manhattan Field these days.--Exchange.

A PUPIL of the late Professor Billroth, in a communica-
tion to the Kleine Zeitung, says that the great surgeon
used to tell his young hearers in the lecture-room that
the two main faults of surgeons were a neglect of the
gift of observation, and a self-satisfied delusion that they
practised it. He had a favorite experiment with which
he used sometimes to test the presence or absence of this
gift in new pupils. "Now, gentlemen," he would say,
"look at me, and do exactly what I do." He would then
thrust one of his fingers into a basin of dirty water, raise
his hand to his mouth, and stick one of his fingers be-
tween his lips. All his hearers, as they imagined, there-
upon imitated him. "Ah, gentlemen," Billroth would
then say, "what a defect of observation! You have not
observed that I put my forefinger into the dirty water,
and placed my second finger into my mouth. You have
all placed the same finger in your mouth which you had
thrust into the dirty water."-Evening Post, N. Y.

ENORMOUS sums have to be paid as salvage money to
the rescuers of ocean steamships when they are disabled
at sea, and probably this is a more fruitful source of ex-
pense to the large companies than any other. On her

a member of Jibboom Club No. I, began search among
the archives of the club for an older craft.
New London's Jibboom Club contains more marine
authorities and ship captains than any similar organiza-
tion outside of New York or Boston.
The member finally antedated the disabled old Consti-
tution's age by'one year, after a prolonged search. He
found that the United States frigate Constellation," now
in service, was built at Gosport, Va. in 1796, and rebuilt
in 1854.
The Constellation is intimately associated with New
London history. About seventy years ago, while cruis-
ing in the Pacific Ocean, she rescued from drowning the
late Captain "Nat" Richards and his crew of whalemen
from this port. Captain Richards was one of New Lon-
don's luckiest and most adventurous whalers. About
four years ago, or just before his death, the Constellation
visited this harbor, and Captain Richards visited the
gallant old ship, and was received with especial honors.
-N. Y. Sun.

PEDESTRIANS on Market street this morning jostled
each other to see a novel sight. A huge dog, with a
sleek drab skin and generally contented look, plodded
along the thoroughfare wearing spectacles of large size
astride his shapely nose. The dog was not at all incon-
venienced, seemingly; and apparently was not aware that
he was doing anything out of the ordinary, as he criti-
cally surveyed the public through the spectacle-glasses.
The spectacles were much too large for any human be-
ing, and probably were made with glasses without mag-
nifying power, at the order of some waggish owner.-
San Francisco Bulletin.


first voyage the City of New York" (as she was then A vicious lion on exhibition at Wilkesbarre, Penn.,
called) ran ashore off Sandy Hook, and it cost the com- attacked his trainer, who, after a desperate fight, man-
pany $Ioo,ooo to float her off. In 189o her sister ship, aged to escape with his life. The lion, a black-maned
the "City of Paris," broke her engines off the Irish coast, African named" Wallibker," is vicious and surly. "Pro-
and was towed into port at an expense of $30,000 as sal- fessor" Veno, his trainer, has twice been attacked before.
vage money. This time he went into the cage and tried to make the lion
The City of Boston" broke her shaft in 1882, and it go through some of his exercises; but when the "Profes-
cost the company $46,500 to get her into port; and the sor" whipped him, the lion bit at the man's legs. The
"Venezuela" of the Red D Line stuck on the Brigantine teeth just scratched the skin, and the Professor got out
Shoals off New Jersey in 1889, so that the company had of the cage.
to spend $40,000 to get her off. The "City of Rich- An hour later he once more tried to get the animal to
mond" was towed into Halifax harbor in 1882 at an ex- perform. The Professor used the whip, and the lion,
pense of $35,ooo. The list could be largely extended, aroused to fury, sprang upon him and buried his teeth
showing that the amount of salvage money paid for ren- in his thigh. Veno had no weapons, but dashed the small
during services to disabled steamers at sea is so enor- shield in his hand into thelion's face until the beast opened
mous that it almost equals the loss entailed by injuries to his jaws. Attendants had by this time partly driven the
our wooden vessels. The loss of life is less. It is quite lion into a corner with poles and iron bars, and Veno
rare that an ocean steamer is submerged beneath the tried to rise and escape, but the animal again sprang on
waves so that the crew and passengers are lost, but him. Veno put up his arm to guard'his throat, and the
when such an accident does happen the destruction is lion caught the hand in his mouth.
appalling.-Home and Country. Then followed a terrible struggle, man and beast roll-
ing over on the floor of the cage from one end to the
THE OLDEST WAR-SHIP IN AMERICA. other, while the attendants were unable to use their poles
for fear of hitting Veno. At last the "Professor" man-
Is IT NOT THE FRIGATE "CONSTELLATION," BUILT IN 1796, aged to shake himself loose, and rolled to the door, while
AND STILL IN SERVICE? the lion was held in one corner by iron bars thrust
through the cage. Attendants dragged the "Professor "
NEW LONDON, CONN.-After reading the story in through the door just as he fainted. Physicians were
the Sun concerning America's oldest ship, which was summoned, and his wounds were dressed.-N. Y. Tri-
supposed to be the frigate Constitution," built in 1797, bune.



IN the July number of ST. NICHOLAS,-page 836, three prizes were offered for answers to the question, "What
parts of North America have been inhabited by the black bear during the last fifteen years ? The first prize was
$15 and an autograph copy of Mr. Hornaday's Two Years in the Jungle "; the second prize, the same author's
work on "Taxidermy" and $Io; and the third prize was $5. The awards were to be made in the Christmas number,
but it was found best to defer the examination of the competing lists until later. Here is Mr. Hornaday's report:


DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have before me the results
of the great midsummer hunt for American black bears,
undertaken by some of your bright boys and girls in
competition for the prizes offered in the July number.
The lists of localities inhabited by this animal, and
the accompanying correspondence, have all been care-
fully tabulated, like election returns, weighed, sifted,
and boiled down, regardless of the awful expenditure of
midnight oil. I think we have done exact justice to all.
Many times we have been obliged to put in our best
licks," in order to find some of the places mentioned,
and to make a clear tabulation of results; but in the
presence of such evidences of industry as these lists
afford, I would be ashamed to be lazy.
To me the result of this experimental excursion into
the great field of nature has been a great and very agree-
able surprise. I had no expectation of seeing such thor-
ough and even scholarly work done, in an entirely new
field of study, by young people under seventeen years of
age. The list of localities submitted by the winner of the
first prize would do credit to a college professor, and that
the second prize should be won fairly and squarely by a
little girl of twelve, whose list of 86 localities locates the
black bear in 28 States and provinces, is simply ad-
The lists submitted show earnest, persevering, and in-
telligent work. I think the published results will be as
great a surprise to our professional naturalists as it has
been to me; for I am sure the black bear has never be-
fore been thus thoroughly and systematically hunted
down. If I can find the time in which to do it, I will
prepare and send to the great Sportsmen's Exposition to
be held in New York next spring, a large map showing
the combined result of our great bear hunt.
The following statement, and the subjoined map of
Edwin I. Haines's results, may be regarded as "official."
In the preparation of the map it has been found quite im-
possible to indicate on a map of this size more than about
one fourth of the localities given. W. T. HORNADAV.
BUFFALO, Dec. I, 1894.

Third prize, Harold S. Conant, Gloucester,
Highly commended, Alice C. Robinson, Den-
ver, Colorado.
Highly commended, Arthur J. Huey, Newark,
Highly commended, Mabel C. Macomber, W.
Roxbury, Mass., age 13.
Highly commended, Jesse Clapp, Syracuse,
N. Y.
Highly commended, H. F. Scribner, Melrose,
Good lists were also received from Winifred Miller,
Eugene City, Oregon; Sarah Pratt, Fredonia, N. Y.;
and Marguerite Smith, W. 159th st., New York. Clair
Livingston, of Fort Rouge, Winnipeg, contributes a very
well written and interesting essay on the black bear; and
Alice Streator, of Garrettsville, Ohio, sends a short list
with the plucky declaration, I at least tried! "

Tabulation of Prize-Winners' Lists.
(Only one mention of a given county is allowed to count.)

States and Prov-
inces inhabited
by the Black
Bear during the
last r1 years.

Alabama .......
Alaska .........
Arizona ... ....
Arkansas .......
Colorado .......
North Dakota...
South Dakota...
Georgia ........
Idaho ..........
Illinois .........
Indiana .......
Indian Territory.
Iowa ..........
Kansas .........
Kentucky ......
M aine..........


Massachusetts ..
Minnesota .....
BEAR. Mississippi .....
Missouri ........
Awards: First prize, Edwin I. Haines, New Rochelle, Nebraska .....
Nevada ........
N. Y., age 16.
Second prize, Margaret Jean Hutchings, De-
troit, Mich., age 12.

S, States and .. ," 4
ae ii a Provinces- t J
S continued.

I New Hampshire. 3 2 x
3 2 2 New Mexico ... 5 3 1
3 1 New York...... 13 6 3
7 i I North Carolina.. 8 z
9 3 Ohio .......... i
X0 3 Oregon........ 5 3
I Pennsylvania .. 7 6
I I South Carolina.. 2 I
5 2 Tennessee ...... 2
i Texas........ 4 I
6 3 Utah.......... 2 1
1 Vermont ........ 4 I
I Virginia........ 8 2 2
2 Washington .... 13 4 2
1 West Virginia... 2 1 2
2 Wisconsin..... 5 2 I
W 1 Wyoming ...... 6 I 2
3 Nova Scotia ... I I
20 9 6 New Brunswick. 9 1 3
1 Labrador ....... 1
2 I Quebec......... 4
6 74 Ontario ........ 2 4 1
8 3 2 Alberta......... 4
o1 Br. Columbia .. 3 3 2
3 Assiniboia ...... I
7 2 I N. W. Territory. i I
I Mexico........ 2 3
Total Localities 234 86 43
Total States and
Provinces..... 54 28 26



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IN the "Rhymes of the States" the rhyme on Georgia
describes Savannah as the largest cityin the State." As
many of our readers know, Atlanta, with a population of
more than 65,500, is entitled to that distinction, since
Savannah's population is but 43,000. Savannah is the
largest seaport, and that word should be read instead of
the word city. The mistake was not due to the author
of the lines.

THE engraving on page 312 of this number of ST.
NICHOLAS was made for this magazine from a copy of a
painting by Madame Ronner, a Dutch artist especially
celebrated for her studies of the life and character of cats.
This, with others of her pictures, appears also in the beauti-
ful volume entitled, "Henriette Ronner," published by
Cassell & Co. in England, and by The Century Co. in
this country.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I want to tell you about all
that I have seen this last summer. We first went to
Guernsey, and from there to the New Forest; we took
nice long drives through it to King Rufus's Stone and
Beaulieu, which is very interesting, with its old clock-
tower, ruined abbey, and tiny little church which has a
stone pulpit in the wall, with steps leading up to it.
In the Isle of Wight we went to Carisbrooke Castle,
and saw the window of the room where Charles the First'
was imprisoned, and also the room where the Princess
Elizabeth, Charles the First's daughter, died in 1650.
We saw Corfe Castle, in the Isle of Purbeck, later on.
After that we went to Christchurch, where there was a
very little Leper's Window.
Salisbury and Wells cathedrals we also saw. Salis-
bury had very old gateways that led into the pretty close,
in the middle of which was the lovely cathedral. At Wells
there was a funny old clock in the cathedral, with the sun,
moon, and stars; and every hour some knights in armor
went round in opposite directions riding, and a man kicked
with his feet a bell.
Your loving reader, EDITH DE LISLE Q- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We have taken you for nearly
fourteen years. I was born in Washington twelve years
ago, but we have lived here about nine years. Asheville
is a small but growing city of ten thousand inhabitants.
Mr. George Vanderbilt's famous mansion is about five
miles from where we live. I have been therd a great
many times. It is a treat to go out there. You can spend
.the day "looking," and go back the next day and see
something new, everything is on such a large scale.
Mr. Vanderbilt was here not long ago, but he does
not stay long. He has a private car called Swanannoa,"
after one of the rivers here. We were up on Mitchell's
Peak this summer; we were 'way up above ST. NICHOLAS
then. It is very cold up there. Yours truly,
GEO. A. R-.

DEAR. ST. NICHOLAS: My father, mother, two sisters,
and a brother-in-law came here from South Australia.

Two of our brothers had come before. We left a beau-
tiful home in New Glenelg. I wrote to you once from
there, about my cat. We have taken you, dear ST. NICH-
OLAS, for many years, and I am twelve, although I can't
write well. I want you to thank Palmer Cox for his
Brownie stories, please. My father and mother used
to read them to me when I was a little girl; also thank
Mrs. Jamison for that lovely tale "Toinette's Philip "; it
is as beautiful as "Little Lord Fauntleroy." I have a
doll just like Ceddie. This is a lovely place, lots of lovely
trees, flowers, butterflies, birds, fireflies, and firegrubs.
The railway-grub has a red light at one end, green at
the other, and rows of white lights down each side. I
don't think you will have had a letter from New Austra-
lia before; but all the children here will soon know you,
for I take y6u to school. You are going to be sent to
me from South Australia. My brother teaches the school,
and he has known you since he was a very, very little boy.
Once a year I used to be taken to the children's hospital,
and I left you with them. Peter Newell's pictures I en-
joy very much. I never get tired of showing them to
my friends. I left my lovely cat at home; he would not
leave the house. I had his likeness taken before I left.
We have a beautiful band here, and nearly all the chil-
dren learn to sing. From WYN. E. N. B- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Formerly we lived in Portland,
Oregon, and left this last year just before the flood, which
covered the streets nearest the river.
We first went to Oakland, where we stayed ten days,
during which time we visited the Midwinter Fair. The
Japanese village interested me most.
There are but two children in our family. I am the
oldest, eleven; and my brother's age is four.
Then we went to a ranch and mine combined, where
we stayed a few months. I went down a shaft two hun-
dred feet deep in a great iron bucket.
Then we came here. We brought two cats and a dog
with us. There are burros running loose all around
here, and if you want a ride you can go and catch one,
which is easier said than done, for they often present
their heels.
As we have been moving about for quite a while, I
have not received my magazines for six months; but I
look forward with pleasure to the time when I shall get
my bound volume.
From a devoted reader, who hopes you will prosper.

WE thank the young friends whose names follow for
pleasant letters received from them: Laura P., Marie O.
A., Katherine J. H., Ruby B. H., L. E. R., Annie W. W.,
Hazel van W., Lottie S., May de B., Louise P., Mary H.,
Alice L., Gussie F., Grace B. and Marie G., Bessie C.,
S. E. R., Walter S. P., Suzanne C. G., Robert K., Anna
W. J., Etta O. E., Margaret B. G., Walter C., Mary B.
W., E. C. Stone, W. L. L., M. A. L. S.,Alberta E. B.,
Juliette P. C., Helen B., Katharine J. H., Park J. J.,
Ethel A. W., Harry W., Helen Cecil L., Amelia W.,
Poppy and Sheila S. T., Clarence C. D., Bessie F., Ida
Q., Harry L. A., Winifred P. K., Leonard B. M., Esther
MacM., Etelka S., Wilbur van H., Milton S. G., Leroy
W. P., Estelle S., Harriet D. B. McK., Carrie E., Chris-
tine S., Lila L., Mollita B. D., Philip N. W., George H.
R., Bronson C., Laura A. W., Mildred H. G., Frank A.
C., Gem S., Edna W., Julia G. E., Minnie L. S., Ed-
ward W. H., Florence McC.



Wings. 2. Armor. 3. Globe. 4. Nests. 5. Easel. 6. Roses.
DOUBLE ACROSTC. Rudyard Kipling. Cross-words: i. Rock.
2. Ulai. 3. Drop. 4. Yawl. 5. Anti. Rein. 7. Drag.
ANAGRAMS. Amos Bronson Alcott and Louisa May Alcott.
4. Redan. 5. Blend. II. i. Dwarf. 2. Wager. 3. Agree. 4. Reels.
5. Fresh.
Oh merry midnight bells, ring blithely, ring,
Wake with your breathless peal the startled night,
High in your belfry in mad frolic swing.
ZIGZAG. "Sage of Monticello." _Cross-words: i. Stun. 2. Kale.

3. Huge. 4. Jute. 5. Hoot 6. Afar. 7. Mote. 8. Coot. 9. Lank.
on. Twit. ii. Brim. 12. Acid. 13. Epic. 14. Also. 15. Dolt.
i6. Polo.
SBEHEADINGS. Burgoyne. i. B-allot. 2. U-sage. 3. R-elate.
4. G-round. 5. O-pinion. 6. Y-arrow. 7. N-ode. 8. E-land.
DIAMOND. x. B. 2. Cat. 3. Baked. 4. Ten. 5. D.
NOVEL ACROSTIC. Sheridan. Cross-words: i. Clutches. 2. Twi-
light. 3. Nineteen. 4. Shamrock. 5. Praising. 6. Roderick.
7. Canonize. 8. Navigate.
CHARADE. Spar-row.
OBLIQUE RECTANGLE. I. C. 2. Ire. 3. Crypt. 4. Ephod. 5. Toged.
6. Debar8.. Darer. 8. Rebec. Re Cedar. Racer.
12. Rebel. 13. Regal. 14. Lapel. r5. Levee. 16. Leman. 17. Eaves.
i8. Neb. 19. S. )

To OUR PUZZLERS: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the z5th of each month, and should
be addressed to ST. NICHOLAS Riddle-box," care of THE CENTURY Co., 33 East Seventeenth St., New York City.
ANSWERS TO ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE NOVEMBER NUMBER were received, before November i5th, from M. McG.- A. M. J.-
Paul Reese -" Bunny-boy "- G. B. Dyer-Josephine Sherwood Pearl F. Stevens W. L.-" Highmount Girls"-" The Spen-
cers "- Mama, Isabel, and Jamie -L. O. E.-"'Hilltop Farm "-" Midwood "-Hubert L. Bingay- Loumse Ingham Adams-Jack and
George A.-Addison Neil Clark--Jo and I -Two Little Brothers-H. Katharine Brainerd and Cora Ellen Smith-J. L. and R. L.-
"Philemon and Baucs "- Marjory Gane -Jessie Chapman and John Fletcher Tod and Yam"-"Tip-cat."
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE NOVEMBER NUMBER were received, before November 15th, from V. Westcott, I Bertha G. Martin. i -
"Very Smart Girl," 7-Katharine D. Hull, i- Don B. Sebastian, Arethusa Ross, r -" Lynne C. D'Oyle," 7- Virginia Schaefer, i
- Leila McGowin, i Royal D. Thomas, Mary L. Austin, I E. B. Y. M. C. A.," r-- Mama and Sadie, 8 Ralph B. Mason, I -
Clara A. Anthony, 8 -Anna Herrick, 3-" Crocus," I -Bertha G. Martin, i --Eloise Bassett, 3-Margaret and Mary Bright, I -Jo-
seph Nelson Carter, 4 -Jessie B. Adams, i-" The Butterflies," 8- Effie K. Talboys, 6- Blanche and Fred, 8 --'Muriel and Papa," 6 -
" Will 0. Tree," 7 E. Padelford Taft, i Albert Smith Taught, 7 Helen R., 6- Leila Alden, 2-- Helen A. Sturdy, 7- Norman and
Alice McGay, 5-"Brownie Band," 8- R. 0. B., 4-F. W. Patterson, 2-H. V. J., I-"Merry and Co.," 8-Jeoffrey Parsons, 7-
Harry and Helene, 7- Augusta Walsh, i.


ALTHOUGH he writes of 12-13-7-9-5, his tales are never
He 's just as open as the 7-5-4, as merry as a 11-5-6-8;
Though lions 10-II-5-4 in jungles, and tigers 1I-2-1-8
in shade,
And 14-6-5-4 wolves 14-1-9-13 2-13-8-12-13-7-11-4
no 1-2-3-7-4 child 's afraid,
Though elephant, and jackal, and ape, that missing II-
Come in the 11-2-6-12-3 moonlight, down to the 1-9-
II-II to 7-1-12-13-8.
Long may his jolly poems 6-9-13-14, his 14-5-4 pen
3-2-11-4 10-11-4,
For of story-tellers he is 8-12-13-14, may his 9-13-8
never 6-2-13 3-1-4. L. E. JOHNSON.


THE central letters, reading downward, will spell the
name of a distinguished American journalist who was
born in February, 1811.
CROSS-WORDS: I. Fabulous animals, generally re-
garded as very powerful and ferocious. 2. To roll or
sway suddenly to one side. 3. To ask earnestly for:
4. In elegant. 5. A measure for cloth. 6. To mislead.
7. Earnest requests or entreaties.


I. I. A LETTER. 2. To disfigure. 3. Pertainingtoa
wall. 4. A large artery. 5. Somewhat. 6. Loyal. 7. The
nest of a squirrel.
II. I. A letter. 2. To consume. 3. The thin air which

is supposed to pervade all space. 4. The Arabian pro-
phet. 5. A place of worship. 6. To loosen. 7. A pas-
sage of Scripture. GEORGE S. S.

I 9

3 II
4 12
5 13
6 14
7 15
8 16

CROSS-WORDS: I. A fish. 2. Additional. 3. As-
sisted. 4. Worn out. 5. The little wheel of a spur.
6. The tribe over which Boadicea reigned. -7. A cer-
tain coin. 8. To invest.
From I to 4, to surpass; from 5 to 8, a vegetable;
from i to 8, a feminine name. From 9 to 12, artificially
produced; from 13 to 16, to cover the inner surface of;
from 9 to 16, a feminine name. L. W.

MY power is great, though small I be;
A doctor's charges I make free;
Of an evil spirit I make a friend;
I can tear apart, though I 've but one end;
Of all that is bad I make a tack;
And a path I easily make of a tack;
With a bit of glass I can make good bread;
Yet I make but a scrap of a common shed;
An aged woman I make of a cone;
And a lazy creature when all'is done;
To a shepherd's staff I transform a cook;
And any volume I change to a brook;
If for help you call, I make raid on you;
Though, if it were mine, I would pull you through.


WhHEN the five objects in the above illustration
have been rightly guessed, and the names (each
containing the same number of letters) written one
below the other, the initial letters will spell the name
of a State which was annexed to the Union fifty years

A FAMOUS American:


EACH of the following groups of letters may be trans-
posed so as to form one word. When they have been
rightly transposed, and placed one below another, the
initial letters will spell a .word meaning at one side;
the central letters, a word meaning disposition; and the
final letters, a word meaning delicate.

I. Tenbalk.
2. Canheen.
3. Existen.
4. Druesin.
5. Reviped.
6. Operrem.


If. W. E.

I. IN laconic. 2. Wicked. 3. Whipped. 4. A title.
3. Ecclesiastical. 6. An inhabitant. 7. A Latin number.
8Sunburn. 9. In laconic. J. A. S.


THE letters of one word may be transposed to answer
the four following questions:
I. A god much admired,
Though oft causing pain.
2. A queen in one portion
Of Nature's domain.
3. A troublesome ailment
That checks all our mirth.
4. I am brought, with great labor,
From the heart of the earth.
E. C. H.

ALL of the words described contain the same number
of letters. When these are rightly guessed, and placed
one below another, in the order here given, the zigzag,
beginning at the.upper left-hand letter, will spell the
name of a famous musician born in February, 181o.
CROSS-WORDS: I. A large river of Germany. 2. An-
other river of Germany. 3. Penetrating. 4. A crusta-
cean. 5. An amphibious animal. 6. To boast. 7. A
number. 8. The bill of a bird. 9. A beautiful Italian
lake. o1. A town of Germany, and the scene of one of

Napoleon's victories. II.. A group of laborers under
one foreman. 12. In a little while. 13. A bene-
faction. 14. The surname of a great French author.
15. To be silently sullen. 16. To wind spirally.
L. W.


IF rightly you place two A's and a Y,
An L, two N's and an S,
Two E's and a V, T, D, and an I,
'T will give you much pleasure, I guess.


I. HE raises wheat, rye, oats, corn, etc.
2. This is sauce for either goose or gander.
3. He has a strap; I, an old piece of rope.
4. A Turk wears a turban, John says.
5. Whisky and rum ruin many men.
6. I do dislike to see a rich man doling out his pen-
7. This is certainly real amethyst.
8. I put the wasp in.netting and watched its motions.
9. Yes, Inez, it heralds the brighter day.
o1. Sir, I will walk in the path or near it.

I. UPPER SQUARE: I. A pronoun. 2. Healthy.
3. Other. 4. Suitable.
II. MIDDLE SQUARE: I. A chair. 2. To engrave
on metal. 3. A dull pain. 4. A pronoun.
III. LOWER SQUARE: I. In this place. 2. Watches
intently. 3. To gather a harvest. 4. To catch sight of.
H. W. E.

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, m-ada-m.
I. Change a tree to thorns. 2. Change a kind of
pastry to detectives. 3. Change a kind of meat to pre-
tenses. 4. Change a pronoun to an exclamation of sur-
prise. 5. Change the evening before a holiday to flat.
6. Change rended to supplies. 7. Change to hock to
meditation. ALICE I. H.




e 77

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