Front Cover
 To the robin that sings at...
 Our tiny fleet
 The difference
 The dancing horses of Sybaris
 Dame Daisy's "at home"
 "Two barks"
 Chris and the wonderful lamp
 Good morning round the world
 George Rogers Clark and the conquest...
 Mushrooms, lichens, and moulds
 Jack Ballister's fortunes
 The bright side
 Teddy and carrots: Two merchants...
 When vacation's nearing
 "Once upon a time"
 The sandman
 A slight objection
 The boy in gray: A ballad for decoration...
 The buffalo, musk-ox, mountain...
 To desperation: A little, not at...
 A boy of the first empire
 Rhymes of the states
 The pigeons
 Through the scissors
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover

Title: St. Nicholas
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00298
 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: VID00298
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: oclc - 01764817
lccn - 04012675
 Related Items
Preceded by: Our young folks
Preceded by: Children's hour (Philadelphia, Penn.)
Preceded by: Little corporal
Preceded by: Schoolday magazine
Preceded by: Wide awake

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
        Front Cover 3
        Page 618
    To the robin that sings at my window
        Page 619
    Our tiny fleet
        Page 620
        Page 621
        Page 622
        Page 623
    The difference
        Page 624
    The dancing horses of Sybaris
        Page 625
        Page 626
    Dame Daisy's "at home"
        Page 627
    "Two barks"
        Page 628
    Chris and the wonderful lamp
        Page 629
        Page 630
        Page 631
        Page 632
        Page 633
        Page 634
        Page 635
    Good morning round the world
        Page 636
        Page 637
        Page 638
    George Rogers Clark and the conquest of the northwest
        Page 639
        Page 640
        Page 641
    Mushrooms, lichens, and moulds
        Page 642
        Page 643
        Page 644
        Page 645
        Page 646
        Page 647
        Page 648
    Jack Ballister's fortunes
        Page 649
        Page 650
        Page 651
        Page 652
        Page 653
        Page 654
        Page 655
        Page 656
        Page 657
        Page 658
        Page 659
    The bright side
        Page 660
    Teddy and carrots: Two merchants of newspaper row
        Page 661
        Page 662
        Page 663
        Page 664
        Page 665
        Page 666
        Page 667
        Page 668
    When vacation's nearing
        Page 669
    "Once upon a time"
        Page 670
    The sandman
        Page 671
    A slight objection
        Page 671
    The boy in gray: A ballad for decoration day
        Page 672
        Page 673
    The buffalo, musk-ox, mountain sheep, and mountain goat
        Page 674
        Page 675
        Page 676
        Page 677
        Page 678
        Page 679
        Page 680
        Page 681
        Page 682
    To desperation: A little, not at all
        Page 683
        Page 684
        Page 685
    A boy of the first empire
        Page 686
        Page 687
        Page 688
        Page 689
        Page 690
        Page 691
        Page 692
        Page 693
    Rhymes of the states
        Page 694
            Page 694
            Page 695
    The pigeons
        Page 696
        Page 697
    Through the scissors
        Page 698
        Page 699
    The letter-box
        Page 700
        Page 701
        Page 702
    The riddle-box
        Page 703
        Page 704
        Page 705
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text

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- -- ------- ---- :


VOL. XXII. JUNE, 1895. No. 8.
Copyright, 1895, by THE CENTURY Co. All rights reserved.



ROBIN, abob in the top of the sycamore,
Swinging and singing and flinging your song
Out on the April breeze,
Over the maple-trees,
Like a gay cavalier lilting along
Over the hills to the valleys of Arcady,
Through dewy dells where the spring blossoms blow,
Out of gray shadow-lands
Into May meadow-lands
Starry with wind-flowers whiter than snow,-
Oh, let me ride with you, Robin, to Arcady,
Swift through the cool of the dew and the dawn!
Oh, let me sing with you-
Make the road ring with you-
Gaily and gallantly galloping on!

Sing, Robin, sing a wild ballad of Arcady,
Fresh as the fleet rosy clouds of the dawn!
Sing as I ride with you,
Sing side by side with you,
While we go galloping, galloping on!
Sing of the deeds that were done while the world was young;
Sing of brave stories that never were told;
Sing of the olden time;
Sing of the golden time;
Sing of the glory that never grows old!
Sing the grand hymn of the pines and the summer seas;
Sing the wind's song and the rush of the rain;


STARVATION ISLAND," in one of the great
lakes, is not marked on any map under that
name. It is only a small bit of green amid a great
stretch of water, and the name Starvation was
given by five boys on account of a very unpleas-
ant experience they had there a few years ago.
The party consisted of Bob Hallowell, Jim
Perkins, Dave Chew, and Andy Powell, besides
myself, and we started for a week's cruise from
our village. It was on the evening of the second
day of the cruise that we landed on the island,
thinking it a good place to spend the night.
The island was scarcely more than a hundred
yards in length and half as much across, and,
except for some stunted trees and a growth of
coarse grass, was rocky and uninviting. In one
place, however, there was a small patch of level
ground where the grass grew more thickly, and
here we pitched our tent after making the
painter of the sailing skiff, in which we had
come, fast to a big rock and after pulling the
boat's bow a little way up on shore.

After supper had been cooked and eaten, we
lay around the fire for a while and talked. But
we all were very tired, and soon rolled our-
selves up in our blankets and went to sleep.
It could not have been later than five o'clock
the next morning when I was awakened by a
feeling of chilliness and a numbness in my legs.
When my eyes were once opened, I saw that
it was raining steadily-a fine driving rain
which soaked everything as it fell. I quickly
threw off my blankets, and shook the other fel-
lows to waken them.
"Why, it 's raining!" exclaimed Dave, as
he sat up, and everything in the boat '11 be
soaked if we don't attend to it right away.
Great guns, but it 's blowing, too!
In a couple of minutes Dave and Bob had
buttoned up their coats, and, with their hats
pulled down over their ears, left the tent to look
after the boat. The rest of us straightened up
the tent meaning to provide dry wood for a fire.
We had hardly commenced to roll up the

Sing of the mystery,
Older than history,
Sung by the seed in the growth of the grain!

Sing me the song of the sun and the summer-time;
Sing me the song that the bumblebee drones
As he goes blundering
Home from his plundering
Deep down in orchards that nobody owns.
Flute-throated herald of June and of hollyhocks,
Ripple-tongued singer of roses and rain,
Earliest, merriest,
Bravest, and veriest
Promise of summer and sunshine again,-
Come, let me ride with you, Robin, to Arcady,
Over the hills in the dawn of the day-
Out of the shadow-lands
Into the meadow-lands,
Where it is summer forever and aye!





blankets, however, when we heard a cry from
the direction of the little cove in which we had
left the boat.
Tumbling over one another in our haste to
find out what was the matter, we scrambled out
of the tent and raced toward this place. Half-
way there we were met by Dave and Bob.
"She's gone!" gasped both of them together.
"Who 's gone?" I asked.
"The boat; she 's not anywhere in sight.
The painter must have slipped from the rock.
The wind 's blowing the water high up on shore,
and she 's been floated off and driven down the
The five of us stood looking at one another
in consternation. Here was a predicament.
"Well," said Andy, breaking the silence at
last, "there 's no use of standing here doing
nothing. We 're in for a stay here now, and


the best thing to do is to make ourselves as
comfortable as possible and find how we stand
in the way of provisions."
After an instant we started back to camp,
seeing the wisdom of what he said.
Day was just beginning to break; at least
the east had begun to lighten. But the gray
clouds which scudded before the eastern wind

covered the sky on all sides, and it was too
dark to distinguish objects more than a few feet
away. Altogether the prospect was anything
but encouraging, particularly to five fellows
who were soaked through and through.
When we reached the tent, we all at once
dived between the canvas flaps to take account
of the commissary department. Evidently with
the purpose of enlivening us if possible, Dave
called out the articles in detail, as if he were
making an inventory of goods, as he did at
home in his father's store twice a year.
One bag of Indian meal-bag slightly dam-
aged, meal damp; one knuckle of ham, weigh-
ing about two pounds; one piece of dried beef,
ditto; one can of coffee-mostly can; one tin
of sugar-tin all right, but sugar has lost itself
in a corner; six potatoes-large and of the
sightless kind; six large, flat, and very hard
crackers of superior
quality; one salt-cellar
-perforated top; one
pepper, ditto !"
We all laughed-we
could n't help it; but
the laugh was a rather
weak one, and quickly
"That 's all I can
find!" said Dave, as
he dropped the pepper-
can. "Now the rain
has stopped, we'll make
our plans."
We went out of the
tent and sat around in
a forlorn circle, and it
was only then that we
discovered the full ex-
tent of our predica-
ment. Some one sug-
gested that a fire be
lighted, and asked for a match, after fruitlessly
searching his own pockets. Each one of us rum-
maged his clothes for the desired article, and
with the same result. There was not a match
among us, and neither was there one, as we
speedily found out, among the camp stores.
We were absolutely.without the means of mak-
ing a fire. It was the last straw on our load of



misery, and not a complaint was made. Each
felt utterly disheartened.
Gradually, however, we realized that the
blues would not mend matters, and we fell to
discussing means for securing aid or for getting
safely off the island. Each plan suggested pre-
sented insurmountable difficulties.
The island lay some three miles or more
from the nearest shore, and we could not hope
that any one would see us from there. We had
no means of kindling a fire to produce smoke.
We had no tools for making a raft. It looked
very much, all agreed, as though we were des-
tined to stay where we were until some one saw
us; and this was but a slim hope to cling to,
for, as we very well knew, there was little sail-
ing done except immediately along shore, or
some three miles further out, where passed the
steamers on their way across the lake.
The first question then was, how long could
we make our provisions last us? A short ram-
ble over the island the afternoon previous had
shown us that there was nothing there to catch,
nothing eatable, unless it was the bark of the
trees; we were without fishing-tackle, or even a
hook. All our lines and supplies had been left
with the bulk of our provisions in the boat, as
we had expected then to leave the island the
following morning.
By putting ourselves on short rations we cal-
culated that we could make the provisions we
had last for two days, perhaps three; but this
last was a contingency painful to contemplate.
In pursuance of our plan, then, the ham was
carefully shaved from the bone and about one
half of it eaten for breakfast along with two of
the crackers. When we had finished this sump-
tuous repast, we confessed that we all felt about
as hungry as ever.
After a while we went down on the rocky
coast of the island which faced the mainland.
But the rain shut out the shore from view, and,
after we had stuck up the tallest tree we could
hack down with our knives between a couple
of boulders and fastened a piece of tarpaulin
to it which we chanced to have, we wearily
walked back to the tent. We had small hope
of our flag attracting attention; but it was
something to know that no chance was lost.
The farce of a dinner only gave us a quick-

ened sense of our keen hunger; and supper,
which left us with only the piece of dried beef
and three crackers remaining, was prepared and
eaten in five minutes. From sheer weariness
we fell asleep within an hour after this last im-
portant ceremony.
When a gnawing pain awakened us in the
morning, we found that the sky had cleared,
and that the wind had changed, and now was
blowing briskly from the northwest.
A third of the piece of beef and two of the
crackers were eaten, and we went down on the
shore to see if there was any boat in sight.
The mainland now could be plainly seen,
and one or two white sails close along shore
showed in the sun. But they were nearly three
miles away, and evidently would not come out
toward the island.
Dave and Bob agreed to stay down on shore
for a while and keep a look out. Andy, Jim,
and I went back to the tent. There we lay
down on the blankets and tried to forget our
hunger in sleep. But the effort was useless, and
we were glad when the sun stood overhead,
and we could call the other fellows up from
their post to help eat the half pound of beef
and the one cracker which constituted the noon
meal. As Jim brought these out, he spitefully
kicked aside the potatoes and the can of coffee,
which were useless to us for lack of a fire.
After each of us had swallowed the morsel
that was his share, Jim somewhat languidly re-
"I wonder what became of the boat ?"
Oh, she drifted out on the lake somewhere,
I suppose," said Dave in reply. There was
an easterly breeze; perhaps she 's near the
Canada shore now."
Andy, who had partly raised himself on his
elbow as Jim made his remark about the boat,
at this suddenly came to a sitting position.
I 've got an idea! he exclaimed. Why
not send off some small boats? The wind 's
northwest; the lake 's not rough. We can
make them out of the driftwood on the beach;
there 's lots of it there. Then they can be
rigged up with paper sails, and a message, tell-
ing where we are, fastened to each. We can
send off a whole lot of them. Some of them
are pretty sure to go ashore on the mainland




and perhaps be noticed and picked up. It is n't
certain they will, I know, but it's worth trying,
and anything 's better than sitting idle."
The suggestion was a happy one. In five
minutes we were all down on the beach with
our pocket-knives out and making the chips fly.
There were plenty of bits of board there, and,
selecting pieces over a foot long and some six

a note-book Andy had with him, were wrapped
in the greasy paper which had covered the
ham and pinned or fastened to the boats.
Then we set afloat our miniature craft, and
watched them dance over the tiny swells to-
ward the shore. Two of the boats upset before
they had gone fifty yards; three others had their
masts blown overboard by puffs of wind: but


inches wide, we rapidly shaped them into the
semblance of boats by sharpening one end.
Within a half-hour twenty of these roughly
fashioned craft were lying on the beach. A
number of newspapers, which we had brought
ashore the first night for kindling fires, fur-
nished material for sails. Slender sticks were
split from a couple of cedar shingles picked up
on the shore and fastened tightly in holes in
the boards, which we laboriously bored with our
knives. To these were secured the paper sails,
which we stiffened with light splints of wood.
The messages, written on blank leaves torn from

the rest sailed bravely on before the breeze, and
by the time we had manufactured and sent off
ten more of them, which used up our supply
of paper, the first lot was almost out of sight.
Dave calculated that, as the masts had all been
stepped well forward and bits of thin board
used as rudders, the boats ought to keep fairly
before the wind, and, if the breeze did not die
out or increase so as to wreck them, be ashore
by that night at the latest.
We strained our eyes hard to see how the
last of our fleet (of which only two were lost
near shore) were faring, and Jim even climbed


a tree, from which point of observation he re-
ported that all seemed going well with the
boats, and that the first flotilla had disappeared
from view entirely.
Then, somewhat reluctantly, we went back
to the camp. There was nothing to do now
but to wait and hope that our plan would result
in something of benefit to us. But we talked a
great deal about it that evening, and guessed in-
numerable times how many boats would safely
reach land. None of us permitted himself to
think that all of the boats would be wrecked
and fail in their mission.
Early the next morning we were up and
down on shore. But no sail was in sight. We
watched expectantly all the morning, our hopes
growing less and less. We were too weak from
hunger to leave the shore; for the last of our
provisions had disappeared at dinner on the
previous day.
About the middle of the afternoon, Dave,
who had wearily climbed a tree, uttered a weak
shout: Here comes a boat! "
We all looked in the direction he pointed,
and there, coming down on the island from
the east, were the sails of a skiff.

With one accord we yelled and swung our
hats, and tried to show our joy; but it was a
pitiful exhibition we gave.
Half an hour afterward the keel of the skiff
grated upon the rocks, and two men jumped
ashore. We fairly hugged them, in the eager-
ness of our welcome. There were some crackers
and cheese on board, and the way we fell upon
these was appalling. Then, after our tent and
the blankets had been put aboard, the skiff was
pushed off, and we started for the mainland.
On the way the men told us that at least two
of the little boats we had sent off had come
ashore and had been picked up and the mes-
sages read, though they were badly blurred by
water. At first it had been thought that the
whole thing,was a joke; but afterward it was
decided to see what it meant, anyhow, and the
two men who had come for us had agreed to
make the trip.
Our skiff had not been seen, and we never
learned what became of her. But none of us
ever forgot our experience on the island, and, to
this day, there stands on Dave Chew's book-
case one of the little fleet which was the means
of rescuing us from a dangerous situation.



Beauty lies within ourselves,
After all, they say;
And, be sure, the happy heart
Makes the happy day.

IN a cool and shady garden
Phyllis sat. The roses' scent
Fanned a face whereon were written
Restlessness and discontent.
Lilies nodded, bluebells tinkled,
Birds sang sweetly in the trees;
Merry talk and joyous laughter
Sounded on the summer breeze.
"Oh," sighed Phyllis, I am stifling."
And she raised her pretty head.
"I am sure 't is going to shower--
What a horrid day!" she said.

In a warm and dusty city
Janey, pinched and wan and white,
Leaned against a heated building,
Longing for the cool of night.
Suddenly she spied a floweret,
Pale and slender, at her feet.
" Oh she cried, and stooped to pluck it;
Looking up in rapture sweet
Through the crowded house-tops, Janey
Caught a glimpse of blue o'erhead;
And she kissed the little posy -
"What a lovely day! she said.

Beauty lies within ourselves,
After all, they say;
And the glad and happy heart
Makes the happy day.





11.... F

IN the south of Italy there was once a flour-
ishing Greek colony called Sybaris. The town
was well situated for commerce, the surround-
ing country was very fertile, the climate was
the finest in the world, and for some cen-
turies the Sybarites were industrious and enter-
prising, carrying on a profitable trade with
other countries and heaping up immense
wealth. But too much good fortune finally
proved their ruin. Little by little they lost
their habits of labor and thrift, and instead gave
themselves up to pleasure. Finally, leaving
all kinds of necessary work to their slaves, they
laid aside the cares of life, and spent their

days in eating and drinking, in dancing and in
listening to fine music, or in attending the circus
and watching the feats of acrobats or performing
It is said, indeed, that prizes were offered
to any man who would invent some new kind
of amusement. A certain flute-player hit upon
the idea of teaching the horses to dance, and,
since those creatures were as fond as their
masters of pleasure, he found it a very easy
thing to do. It was not long before the sound
of a pipe would set the heels of every war-horse
in the country to beating time with it. Ima-
gine, if you please, a whole nation of dancing

`- 1- ------


people and dancing horses--what a free-from-
care time of it they must have had!
But the pleasantest summer must come to an
end, even for grasshoppers. The Sybarites had
for neighbors a community of hard workers,
students, and tradesmen called Crotoniates,
who lived temperately, drank water from the
original Croton River, listened to lectures by
Pythagoras, and looked with longing eyes upon
the fair gardens and stately white palaces of
Sybaris. They several times came to blows
with the Sybarites; but, as their army was
much smaller, and they had no cavalry what-
ever, they were beaten in every battle. Their
foot-soldiers were really of no use at all when
opposed to the fierce onsets of the Sybarite
But real worth is sure to win in the end.
When a spy reported to the Crotoniates that
he had seen all the horses in Sybaris dancing
to the music of a pipe, the Croton general saw
his opportunity at once. He sent into the
Sybarite territories a large company of shep-
herds and fifers armed with nothing but flutes
and shepherds' pipes, while a little way behind
them marched the rank and file of the Cro-
toniate army. When the Sybarites heard that
the enemy's forces were coming, they mar-
shaled their cavalry-the finest in the world
at that time-and sallied forth to meet them.
They thought it would be fine sport to send
the Crotoniates scampering back across the
fields into their own country; and half of Sy-
baris went out to see the fun. What an odd
sight it must have been-a thousand fancifully
dressed horsemen, splendidly mounted, riding
out to meet an array of unarmed shepherds
and a handful of ragged foot-soldiers!
The Sybarite ladies wave their handkerchiefs
and cheer their champions to the charge. The

horsemen sit proudly in their saddles, ready
at a word to make the grand dash-when,
hark! A thousand pipes begin to play-not
"Yankee Doodle" nor "Rule Britannia"-
but the national air of Croton, whatever that
may have been. The order is given to charge;
the Sybarites shout and drive their spurs into
their horses' flanks what fine sport it is going
to be! But the war-steeds hear nothing, care
for nothing, but the music. They lift their slen-
der hoofs in unison with the inspiring strains.
And now the armed Crotoniates appear on
the field; but the pipers still pipe, and the
horses still dance they caper, curvet, cara-
cole, pirouette, waltz, trip the light fantastic
hoof, forgetful of everything but the delightful
harmony. The Sybarite riders have been so
sure of the victory that they have taken more
trouble to ornament than to arm themselves.
Some of them are pulled from their dancing
horses by the Crotoniate footmen -others slip
to the ground and run as fast as their nerveless
legs will carry them back to the shelter of the
city walls. The shepherds and fifers retreat
slowly toward Crotona, still piping merrily, and
the sprightly horses follow them, keeping step
with the music.
The dancing horses cross the boundary line
between the two countries, they waltz across the
Crotoniate fields, they caracole gaily through
the Crotoniate gates, and when the fifers cease
their playing the streets of Crotona are full of
fine war-horses!
Thus it was that the Sybarites lost the fine
cavalry of which they had been so proud. The
complete overthrow of their power and the
conquest of their city by the Crotoniates fol-
lowed soon afterward-for how, between so
idle and so industrious a community, could it
have been otherwise ?



MOTHER says, You mischievous girl! But grandmama says, "You blessed lamb!
You 're busier than a bee! The darling of my heart! -
And father says, Go play, my dear, Eliza, I think she wants some jam,
And don't be bothering me!" Or a cake and an apple-tart."



Pr M/T R O JTlT li

S. KITTLE Dame Daisy stood up
in the meadow,
'-\ll dressed for her party
at three;
H r r gown was plain green,
I. and looked dark in the
/2 shadow,
/ But her cap was a wonder
to see.

.-" ';Sh Buttercup stood at her
Side, the first
S\ '-\s always devoted and
.. _._." .. bold;
And all the good cheer and good will
of the summer
Shone up through his helmet of gold.

The clovers came next in their red, shining
Where honey-bees reveled at will;
And butterflies swung in the frail, quaking
That never a moment were still.

A bevy of sunbeams attended upon her,
Bewitchingly clad in their best;
And a chorus of birds warbled glees in her
Till the afterglow paled in the west.


Then all said Good night" to the bright little
And straightway, all fluted and curled,
Her cap-borders closed round her face, warm
and shady -
The coziest hood in the world!

-. -,' I e, '- .

*.^ r/ ,,?' '/ i: ; .- -: I!
I.. -
9'? AZ; 29i *'^!^
**- a i' ^ -'^ fli;
~~r 99


.... .. ... . I
'- 1 "1
*~~~ ...,. i


J -

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'Q* "- ^ -

KY: +' Y
? w .'^




WE had n't ought ter 'a' done it, Rover;
I s'pose we 'll ketch it now, for fair.
They said, Come home when school is over,
An' not go playing' anywhere.".

But it looked so shady down the river,
With the willows hangin' half-way 'cross,
That I stopped to watch the ripples quiver,
An' then I gave a stone a toss.

You started first down through the pasture,.
An' I was afraidd 't wa'n't right ter go;
But you said, "Wow, wow! when I ast yer-
Two barks means yes," an' one means "no."

An' now we '11 get a regular trimmin',
An' have to tote a' old milk-pail;
We '11 ketch it, too, for goin' in swimming .
If yer know what I 'm sayin', wag your tail.

Yer do? Good doggie! Don't you worry!
I '11 take your lickin' an' take mine, too.
When yer see 'm coming you scoot 'n a hurry;
If I stay, they won't go chasing' you.

On'y next time you remember, Rover,
When I ask whether we 'd ought ter go
A-swimmin' after school is over,
Two barks means yes, an' one means no.



(Begun in the December number.


As soon as the game was over, Chris slipped
away and returned to the house without saying
a word to any one, feeling too much ashamed
to face the Lincolnvilles, who had gathered
around the bench, and were engaged in an evi-
dently excited discussion, occasionally casting
glances at the late pitcher that evinced any-
thing but a friendly feeling.
Bob did not make his appearance until tea-
time, when he seated himself at the table with
an air of such profound gloom that Chris asked
"What's the matter with you, Bob? "
"I guess you know what the matter is,"
grunted the boy, evading his cousin's eye.
"Where have you been since the game ?"
Nowhere in particular," was the unsatisfac-
tory response.
See here," interposed Mrs. Green, suddenly
throwing off the hostess's r61e, and assuming
the spiked armor of the school-ma'am, "what's
the trouble between you two boys ? "
"There is n't any trouble that I know of,"
said Chris, as Bob did not reply; "but I s'pose
he 's mad about the game."
"Yes; I am mad about the game," flashed Bob.
"Was it my fault that the Lincolnvilles did
n't win?" demanded Chris.
"Yes, it was," returned his cousin, trembling
with excitement. "All the fellows say you gave
away the game! "
"Let them think so if they want to," said
Chris, with a sudden burst of resentment.
"Why should n't they think so? You were
seen talking with the captain of the Dusenburys
at the beginning of the game, and some of the
fellows suspected you then, And in the eighth
inning, when Jim Everett told you that we had
thought you meant to give 'em the game, you

winked and said, How do you know you 're
not right ?' "
At this revelation of the genie's duplicity,
Chris felt that he could bear no more, and he
began heatedly:
Bob Green, you ought to have known bet-
ter! I never said that. It was-"
"That will do," interrupted Mrs. Green, ma-
jestically; "we will not have a scene here, if
you please. You can settle this matter after
Yes, adjust your er differences at some
more suitable time and place," chirped Mr.
Green, with the air of an elderly and experi-
enced canary; and he glanced at his wife in ex-
pectation of a smile of approval, which he did
not receive.
The boys subsided, and Mrs. Storms re-
marked that she had known how it would be
from the first, and that it was always so.
Very little more was said during the meal.
Chris had ample time for reflection, andhe de-
termined that he would not yet confess the truth.
He could, if he wished, produce the genie as a
witness in his defense; but he would not. The
first grand exhibition of his marvelous powers
should be made in South Dusenbury; in the
mean time let the Lincolnville boys think what
they pleased.
"If you did n't do it, Chris," said Bob, as
they walked out to the barn after tea, "you
ought to put yourself right with the boys."
I shall," was the reply. "You may be sure
of that; but I shall take my own time."
"If you have anything to say," advised Bob,
"you 'd better say it at once."
I 'm not ready yet," snapped Chris.
"All right. You know your own business
best," said Bob, much offended; "but if I were
in the box you 're in, I 'd get out of it as soon
as I could."
And he walked away in high dudgeon at the


manner in which his advice had been received,
leaving Chris standing alone in the barn.
"He '11 sing a different tune when he learns
the truth," mused Chris, with a short laugh.
"And I '11 have that Lincolnville nine at my feet,
begging my pardon."


$ :')
A ti


With this agreeable picture in his mind, he
strolled back to the house. The dining-room
window was open; as he neared it, he heard
Mrs. Green's shrill voice exclaim:
"Why did n't you give me this letter before,
"I forgot it," bleated her husband, in an apol-
ogetic tone.
"Why," went on the lady, excitedly, "Maria
says the boy is out of his head! It is n't safe
to have Robert associate with him!"
The letter that Chris's mother had promised
to write had arrived, and had told the story of
his supposed mental infirmity.
As the boy entered the room, Mrs. Storms

squeaked, Dear me!" gathered up her knit-
ting, and fled to her room; while Mr. Green
said, "Well, Chris, my lad, how are we now?"
with an assumed air of bluffness so unlike his
usual manner that it seemed positively weird.
Mrs. Green only was equal to the occasion.
Christopher," she said, "you will to-night
occupy Robert's room alone; your cousin will
sleep on the parlor sofa. And I am sorry to
be forced to remind you once more that your
visit is somewhat ill-timed, and to be obliged
to request that you will return to your home
to-morrow. Of course I will write your mother
a letter of explanation, which I shall ask you
to be kind enough to hand her."




"All right, Aunt Sabina," was Chris's short
"You must n't feel offended, Christopher,"
chirped Mr. Green, apologetically. "Youraunt
has excellent reasons for making this--er--
Oh, I 'm not offended," replied the boy.
"I shall be glad enough to get back to South
Dusenbury. I guess I '11 take the seven-forty
"Very well."
Chris spent the next half-hour in the parlor,
reading a dismal little memoir of one of Mrs.
Green's former pupils, who had died young
after a course of study that would have proved
fatal to an ordinarily robust adult; then, Bob
having failed to reappear, he went up-stairs
to bed.
He did not see his cousin again until he was

that ball-game, Bob; and you '11 hear some
other things that 'll surprise you a good deal."
"All right; good by," was Bob's short re-
sponse; and as the train started he ran off at
the top of his speed, not stopping to wave his
hand as usual.
Chris's father was out when he reached
home. His mother greeted him with an ex-
clamation of dismay.
Don't worry, mother," he said cheerfully.
" I came home because they did n't want me
to stay any longer. This letter will tell you
all about it."
When Mrs. Wagstaff had read her sister's
letter, she looked even more distressed than
"Oh, dear! what is to be done?" she ex-
claimed distractedly.
Chris guessed the contents of the letter (he

staint or home. ..r
when BD:*b q,1iderik
aplr:ic rr,- arid s iid ir, t -
frgii'ln'-J srt of %,3N:"
ni g,:.ir to ih, train .al
you. We may as well walk, I guess."
"That 'll suit me," said Chris, who
saw that Bob had heard the story of his
insanity, and was in fear that he might at any SAID CHRIS TO HIMSELF.
(SEE PAGE 634.)
moment become violent.
He entered into no explanations, being quite
tired of the subject, and reflecting that his cou- learned long afterward that his surmises were
sin would learn the truth very soon; but as he correct, and that Mrs. Green had expressed a
was about to step into his car he said: firm conviction that he was incurably insane),
"You '11 soon know that I did n't give away and he said earnestly:

"JI ~


her should add toher anxiety.
"You '11 laugh to think how
you 've worried when you
know the truth."
SAnd he hurried away to
7 ez.i:.ir-c further questioning.
t P.~: -' <- ( 3 Th.a afternoon, the won-
'Jerl'ful lmp carefully wrap-
.llj sr-ki' i_ paper under his arm,
Chl`i started for the Dusen-
tuu' Ac ademy. When the
h. Nt .,s c:: me trooping out at
Sthi.:c o'clock they found him
t- .IJY I.:. r,:ri.. outside the gate, a
j" ,'iril-'lcent, almost conde-
S, ': :ei:ng smile on his lips.
i Hello! "cried Nat Mars-
S' t:rn : back, are you? Well,
S i ,,,i d:id some great playing
-'- ) :y; but why did n't
*c *11., vou keep it up ?"
T he Lincolnville fellows
63.v me talking to you, and
y say I gave away the
Sriame," said Chris.
SThey do ? Well, I '1
send in a letter that
"" w, ill knock that idea
':at of their heads."
Say, Chris," inter-
o erupted Fred Tobin,
a te with a laugh, "who
S was that old fel-
low you got to
...',. I help you off the
other day? I 'd
like to hire him
by the week to
do the same kind
"Fellows," said
"Now, you must n't fret, mother. Every- Chris, with an air of deep mystery, "there are
thing will be all right this very afternoon. I a good many things you don't understand, that
know what I 'm talking about. I 'm going to will be made clear before night."
astonish the natives." "Wish you would make my geometry lesson
Oh, Chris, my dear boy, what are you go- clear," said Scotty Jones, with a grin; "but I
ing to do ?" guess it would take more than you to do that."
I 'm not going to hurt anybody, mother," I could do it in a minute, if I wanted to,"
said the boy, with an annoyed laugh that the replied Chris; "but just now I have other and
very words by which he had hoped to soothe more important work on hand."




What are you driving at, anyway, Chris ?"
asked Will Bent.
"See here, boys," said Chris to the group
that had gathered around him; "what would
you say if I told you that it was in my power
to fly like a bird?"
I should say you were talking through your
hat," laughed Scotty.
"Well, it 's a fact that I can do it," main-
tained Chris; and I 'm going to prove it. I '11
go up to the 'top of the Methodist church stee-
ple and fly down. When you see that, you '11
believe I knew what I was talking about, won't
you ?"
"Yes," replied Nat; "but I 'd rather see you
fly up to the top of the steeple. Can't you do
that ?"
"I could, and I will later on," said Chris;
"but I '11 begin the other way. Come on,
boys"; and he started in the direction of the
Methodist church.
See here, Chris," interposed Scotty; this is
only one of your tricks, and we ain't going to
let you drag us over to the church. It 's out of
our way; we 're all going over to Simms's
"Fellows," cried Chris, "I mean every word
I 've said- that 's honest. You come down
to the church with me, and stand over by Jen-
kins's barn. I '11 go up in the steeple alone,
and inside of five minutes you '11 see me flying
down. After that we '11 all have a big lunch
on the parade-ground- lobster salad, ice-
cream, and and whatever else you want."
The boys roared with laughter at this, and
Scotty said:
You 're a great fellow, Chris, but you can't
work this game on us. Come on, fellows; let's
be off for the pond; you 'd better come along
too, Chris."
But several members of the group were some-
what impressed by Chris's evident earnestness;
and one of them-Will Bent--said: "Oh,
let's go and see what the trick is, anyway. If
there 's any ice-cream lying around loose in the
parade-ground, I don't mind helping to get rid
of it. Come ahead."
This decided the question. The boys all
started for the church, Chris leading the way.
"You fellows think I 'm trying to fool you,"
VOL. XXII.-80.

he said; "but you're very much mistaken, as
you '11 soon find out. If you don't open your
eyes wider than you ever did before in your
lives, within the next fifteen minutes, my name
is not Chris Wagstaff."
"Have you invented a flying-machine?"
asked Nat.
"You '11 see," was the only reply Chris would
The sexton happened to be in the Methodist
church, and he readily gave the boy permis-
sion to ascend to the belfry.
The new brick Methodist church, with its
stained-glass windows and its tall, tapering spire,
was the pride of South Dusenbury. The spire
was the highest in the county, and was visible
for many miles. Chris thought there could not
be a better place from which to start on the
flying expedition for which he expected the
genie to provide him wings.
As he started up the winding stairway that
reached almost to the apex of the lofty spire,
the boys- none of whom he would permit to
accompany him left the building, crossed the
road, and took their places near Seth Jenkins's
barn, where they were joined by others of the
village lads, curious to know what was going on.
"What do you suppose Chris is up to, any-
way?" asked Scotty. "He can't have in-
vented a flying-machine."
"Maybe he has," said Nat. "Perhaps it
was in that bundle he had under his arm."
I '11 tell you what I think," said Will. I
don't believe he 's quite right in the upper
story. Doctor Ingalls was at our house this
morning, and my mother says he hinted some-
thing of the sort-said Chris had been study-
ing too hard lately, and had got to take a rest.
I laughed at the idea, when my mother told
me; but I begin to think there 's something
in it."
"No, there is n't, either," said Scotty, very
decidedly. "Chris Wagstaff will never hurt
himself by over-work, if he lives to be a hun-
dred. It's only a trick of his on his folks and
the doctor to get out of going to school. And
he 's making ready to play another trick on us
"Why does n't he appear with his flying-
machine, if he has one ?" said Nat. "He 's


had time to climb a steeple twice as high as
that one. Ah, there he is at the window,
Chris's program for the afternoon had in-
cluded a wonderful exhibition of flying, fol-
lowed by an elaborate luncheon on the parade-
ground. After the meal he intended to under-
take the erection of a new and magnificent
town-hall and possibly an opera-house, both of
which it was his magnanimous intention to
present to the village.
His face flushed, as much by pleasurable
anticipation of the wonders he was about to
work with the genie's aid, as by his run up the
spiral stairway, he paused, panting, in the belfry.
"Now, then," he exclaimed aloud when he
had recovered his breath, to business! "
He tore the paper wrappings from the lamp,
and gave it a vigorous rub.
To his amazement and consternation, the
genie did not appear.
"Perhaps he 's asleep," reflected Chris, re-
membering several occasions recorded in the
"Arabian Nights" on which genii had been
caught napping. "If he is, I '11 soon wake
him up."
Again he rubbed the lamp, and again and
again, but in vain; the genie did not respond
to the summons.
A cold perspiration broke out on Chris's
brow,-a strange, sick feeling oppressed him.
Had the lamp, after retaining its wondrous
power so many centuries, now suddenly lost
it? Was it possible that the genie had re-
nounced his allegiance to the bit of "bricky-
brac" that he had regarded for ages with fear
and awe?
"Perhaps he won't come because it 's a
church," said Chris to himself. I should n't
wonder if that was it. He 's a heathen spirit-
a sort of demon, I guess. Well, there 's no
help for it. I shall have to give it up for this
time. I hate to go down to the fellows. How
they will laugh at me "
He stepped to the window, and by gestures
conveyed the information to the boys that the
exhibition he had promised them would not
take place.
Then he began slowly descending the stairs,
a much crestfallen and greatly troubled boy.

Meantime the group at Seth Jenkins's barn
were commenting upon his extraordinary con-
duct. Will Bent's theory that he was "not
quite right in the upper story" had already
found acceptance; and when the luckless owner
of the lamp appeared, and advanced toward
the boys, they regarded him in a manner that
told him at once what was passing in their
"Well, why did n't you fly?" asked Scotty.
" Would n't your great invention work? "
Chris shook his head, with a sickly smile.
"And how about that big lay-out on the
parade-ground ?" inquired Nat.
"It 'll have to be postponed," replied Alad-
din's wretched successor.
The boys stared at him in silence a few mo-
ments; then Scotty broke out with:
"Come on, fellows; let's be off for Simms's
And, paying no further attention to Chris,
they started at a run.
They think I 'm crazy, too," said Chris to
himself. He began to feel that he was becom-
ing a pariah among his companions. "Well, I
don't blame them. But maybe, now that I 'm
out of the church, the genie will show himself."
He rubbed the lamp with a trembling hand,
but the stubborn spirit did not appear.
So downcast and miserable did Chris appear
when he reached home, that his mother's anx-
iety in his behalf became greater than ever.
She made a large dish of milk-toast for his sup-
per, and put a jar of his favorite raspberry-jam
beside his plate. But he ate very little, and
went to his room immediately after supper.
Seated by the window, the lamp on the ta-
ble by his side, he abandoned himself to mel-
ancholy reflection.
The experience of the late Aladdin, so far as
recorded in the "Arabian Nights," furnished
no parallel to his own. Chris felt that the genie
had treated him badly, and in a sudden burst
of indignation he seized the lamp, and rubbed
it fiercely, crying:
"He must come-he shall! Ah, you 're
here at last, are you?"-for the genie stood
before him; this time in the same form in which
he had appeared on the occasion of their first



"Yes, I 'm here," replied the spirit, in a cold,
hard tone that Chris did not half like.
"Why did n't you come before ? demanded
the angry boy. "Have you any idea what a
scrape you have got me into ? "
One question at a time, please," said the
genie, in the same icy tone, and with a cynical
smile. "I did n't come before, because -not
to put too fine a point on it--I did n't feel
like it. As for the scrape you 're in, that 's no
affair of mine."
"No affair of yours!" gasped Chris. "Are n't
you my slave, and the slave of the lamp ? "
Your slave ? sneered the genie-" the slave
of an old pewter lamp, in such a bad state of
repair that it would be utterly impossible to
light it? I am not. I must say, with deep
humiliation, that I was; but I am not now."
"But you are!" almost shrieked Chris. "You
can't help it! You are, and always will be !"
"I am not, nor shall I ever be again," re-
turned the spirit; "so you need n't waste any
more time and vitality in rubbing the old lamp.
I responded to the summons this time only to
explain the situation to you."
But you have n't explained anything," cried
the boy. "If it had been possible to rebel,
you'd have done it when Aladdin owned the
lamp. You can't-you know you can't!"
It was n't in my power then," said the genie;
"but it is now. Just glance at this "- and
he suddenly produced a few printed pages torn
from some book, and held it before Chris's eyes.
"Why, it's the Emancipation Proclamation! "
the youth exclaimed.
"That's precisely what it is," replied his
companion, an exultant ring in his voice. "I
accidentally learned of its existence only this
morning. By its provisions slavery is abolished
in the United States. Is n't that so ? "
"I-I suppose it is," faltered Chris; "but it
-it does n't apply to you."
"I fail to see any exceptions or reservations
which affect the present case," said the genie;
" and I have studied the document pretty care-
fully. No, my young friend; I am no longer
your slave. And as for that thing-"
He did not finish the sentence, but suddenly
raising his foot, he gave the lamp-which was
the object to which he had referred so contemp-

tuously-a vicious kick which sent it out of the
window; then he began to fade away.
Wait a minute," entreated the boy; "just a
second! I-"
But the genie was gone.
Chris rushed frantically down-stairs, and be-
gan a search for. the lamp, which he very soon
found. He rubbed it, but no genie appeared.
As he dejectedly entered the house, his mother
met him, and, folding him in her arms, said:
"Chris, you 've always wanted to go to
visit New York; and now you 're going. I 've
been talking to Pa about it, and you and he
are to start to-morrow morning, and stay a
week. I 'm sure that when you come back
you won't know yourself."
"I don't now, mother," said Chris, sadly.
"Of course you don't," replied his mother.
"But won't you be glad to go to the city?"
"Yes,-anywhere to get away from South
Dusenbury and the fellows for a few days."
The next morning Chris and his father
started for New York. When they returned,
a week later, Doctor Ingalls pronounced the
boy cured.. But it was a long time before he
regained the esteem and confidence of his
One day he sought consolation and sympa-
thy from Will Bent, the only person beside him-
self who had seen the palace on Chadwick's
Acre. He had determined to tell Will the
whole story.
But Will cut him short with:
"I don't want to hear anything more about
that, Chris Wagstaff. I told my folks all about
what I thought I saw, and I talked so much
on the subject that they sent for Doctor Ingalls.
He said it was all my imagination, and that
there seemed to be an epidemic of that sort of
thing among the Dusenbury Academy boys;
and I 've been taking medicine for it ever
since. I 've got the idea out of my head, now,
and I don't want you to put it back."
That settles it," snapped Chris; and thence-
forth he kept his own counsel.
The wonderful lamp-wonderful no longer-
stands on the parlor mantel; and lovers of the
antique occasionally go into raptures over it.
Once in a while Chris steals in and gives it a
sly rub, but the only result is disappointment.






Do you know how all people, from far and
from near,
Say their "good morning" each day of the
year ?
For How do you do? "-
The right word for you-
Is not said just the same from Ceylon to Peru.

In the Mexican nation
they 're gallant
4 and gay;
They shake hands with
.',. all in a court-
eous way;
SAnd they bow and
Their friends all
MAY YOU BE WELL NOW." the while,
And May you be well now !" they say with
a smile.

But the savages down in the Southern Pacific,
Where corals abound and tornadoes terrific,
Who care not a feather
For wind or for weather,

S They salute by just rub-
bing their noses

:' And how do they do it in
47 t brilliant Japan-
t IIn brilliant Nippon, the
land of the fan ?
Oh, they bow very
And then as they go
They say their "good morning," which is

But over in China- the old mandarin
With a serious face does his bowing begin,


Then with pa
In front of h:

With a wish for the
health of
the one who
goes by,
The brown
Will fall on
his knees,
Or bow down be-
nignly with
gracefulest eas

They all touch their
"Salam /"'

With his hand on his
heart, the po-
lite Persian
His body inclines with
the lightest of
The greater his

lms closely pressed
is breast,
"Have you eaten
your rice ?"
he asks with
a zest.

While with hands
Sand lifted on

A/ ^ ^


Among the dark
Hindus that
bide in Ben-
In Bombay, the
Punjaub, in
S the Deccan,
and all,
Where rules
the Nizam,
Or in ancient
foreheads, and cry out


The lower he bends,

And Peace be upon you!" the blessing he


With the Syrian greeter now how is it done?
Why, his finger-tips meet as he greets any
Then, with fanciful art,
Touches brow, lips, and heart,
And May you be happy!" he says as they

With the African men, '
then, what is
the word
That after the sunrise
is frequently
heard ?
May you flourish
Till your hair is AY YOU FLOURIH AWAY
Is about what they say when they bid one
good day.

In France, where they
dance and they
sing and they
" Now, how do you carry
yourself?" they
all say.
Or if you don't
Their true sense'to
"Comment vous portez-vous ?" fitly you'll




"How find you yourself? they in Germany go;
And How do you fare ?" the staid Dutch
wish to know;
And "How do you stand?"
Comes from Italy's band;
And "Be well!" they
will tell you in
;','I Russia's great

I.. ... ..C

And as over the sea
The daylight shall flee,
The same in Brazil its new welcome shall be.



The Spanish "good morning" 's "Buenadiaz";
"Bon dia 's the Portuguese wish as you pass;

So over the earth the good greeting shall
And each in his own way shall speak and
But one thought is found,
Whatever the sound,
And Good Morning 's Good Morning the
whole world around.



AROUND the chimney swallows fly,
And wrens explore the barn and shed,
The orioles go flashing by
With bits of straw and cotton shred.

The sunlight glimmers through the trees
And finds them busy everywhere,
The robins, jays, and chickadees,
And all the builders of the air.




IN 1776, when independence was declared,
the United States included only the thirteen
original States on the seaboard. With the ex-
ception of a few hunters there were no white
men west of the Alleghany Mountains, and
there was not even, an American hunter in the
great country out of which we have since made
the States of Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, Michigan,
and Wisconsin.' All this region north of the
Ohio River then formed a part of the Province
of Quebec. It was a wilderness of forests and
prairies, teeming with game, and inhabited by
many warlike tribes of Indians.
Here and there through it were dotted quaint
little towns of French Creoles, the most impor-
tant being Detroit, Vincennes on the Wabash,
and Kaskaskia and Kahokia on the Illinois.
These French villages were ruled by British
officers commanding small bodies of regular
soldiers or Tory rangers and Creole partizans.
The towns were completely in the power of
the British government; none of the American
States had actual possession of a foot of prop-
erty in the Northwestern Territory.
The Northwest was acquired at the time of
the Revolution only by armed conquest, and
if it had not been so acquired, it would have
remained a part of the British Dominion of
The man to whom this conquest was due
was a famous backwoods leader, a mighty
hunter, a noted Indian fighter-George Rogers
Clark. He was a very strong man, with light
hair and blue eyes, of a good Virginian family,
who, early in his youth, embarked on the ad-
venturous career of a backwoods surveyor,
exactly as Washington and so many other
young Virginians of spirit did at that period.
He traveled out to Kentucky soon after it was
opened up by Boone, and lived there for a year,
either at the stations or camping by himself in

the woods, surveying, hunting, and making war
against the Indians like any other settler; but
all the time his mind was bent on vaster schemes
than were dreamed of by the men around him.
He had his spies out in the Northwestern Ter-
ritory, and became convinced that with a small
force of resolute backwoodsmen he could con-
quer it for the United States. When he went
back to Virginia, Governor Patrick Henry en-
tered heartily into Clark's schemes and gave
him authority to fit out a force for his purpose.
In 1778, after encountering endless difficul-
ties and delays, he finally raised a hundred and
fifty backwoods riflemen. In May they started
down the Ohio in flatboats to undertake the
allotted task. They drifted and rowed down-
stream to the falls' of the Ohio, where Clark
founded a log-hamlet, which has since become
the great city of Louisville.
Here he halted for some days and was joined
by a few volunteers; but a number of the men
deserted, and when, after an eclipse of the sun,
Clark again pushed off to go down with the
current, his force was but about one hundred
and sixty riflemen. All, however, were men
on whom he could depend-men well used to
frontier warfare. They were tall, stalwart back-
woodsmen, clad in the hunting-shirt and leg-
gings that formed the national dress of their
kind, and armed with the favorite weapon of
the backwoods, the long-barreled, small-bore
Before reaching the Mississippi the little flo-
tilla landed, and Clark led his men northward
against the Illinois towns. In one of them,
Kaskaskia, dwelt the British commander of the
entire district up to Detroit. The small garri-
son and the Creole militia taken together out-
numbered Clark's force, and they were in close
alliance with the Indians roundabout. Clark
was anxious to take the town by surprise and


avoid bloodshed, as he believed he could win
over the Creoles to the American side. March-
ing cautiously by night and generally hiding by
day, he came up to the outskirts of the little
village on the evening of July 4, and lay in the
woods near by until after nightfall.
Fortune favored him. That evening the offi-
cers of the garrison had given a great ball to
the mirth-loving Creoles, and almost the entire
population of the village had gathered in the
fort, where the dance was held. While the
revelry was at its height, Clark and his tall
backwoodsmen, treading silently through the
darkness, came into the town, surprised the sen-
tries, and surrounded the fort without causing
any alarm.
All the British and French capable of bearing
arms were gathered in the fort to take part in
the merrymaking or to look on. When his
men were posted Clark walked boldly forward
through the open door, and, leaning against
the wall, looked at the dancers as they whirled
around under the light of the flaring torches. For
some moments no one noticed him. Then an
Indian who had been lying with his chin on his
hand, looking carefully over the gaunt figure
of the stranger, sprang to his feet, and uttered
a wild war-whoop. Immediately the dancing
ceased, and the men ran to and fro in con-
fusion; but Clark, stepping forward, bade them
be at their ease, but to remember that hence-
forth they danced under the flag of the United
States, and not under that of Great Britain.
The surprise was complete, and no resistance
was attempted. For twenty-four hours the
Creoles were in abject terror. Then Clark
summoned their chief men together and ex-
plained that he came as their ally, and not as
their foe, and that if they would join with him
they should be citizens of the American repub-
lic, and treated in all respects on an equality
with their comrades. The Creoles, caring lit-
tle for the British, and rather fickle of nature,
accepted the proposition with joy and with the
most enthusiastic loyalty toward Clark. Not
only that, but they sent messengers to their
kinsmen on the Wabash to persuade the peo-
ple of Vincennes likewise to cast off their alle-
giance to the British king, and to hoist the
American flag.

So far, Clark had conquered with greater ease
than he had dared to hope. But when the
news reached the British governor, Hamilton,
at Detroit, he at once prepared to reconquer
the land. He had much greater forces at his
command than were available for Clark; and
in the fall of that year he came down to Vin-
cennes by stream and portage, in a great fleet
of canoes bearing five hundred fighting men,
British regulars, French partizans, and Indians.
The Vincennes Creoles refused to fight against
the British, and the American officer who had
been sent thither by Clark had no alternative
but to surrender.
If Hamilton had then pushed on and struck
Clark in Illinois, having more than treble
Clark's force, he could hardly have failed to
win the victory; but the season was late, and
the journey so difficult that he did not be-
lieve it could be taken. Accordingly he dis-
banded the Indians, and sent some of his
troops back to Detroit, announcing that when
spring came he would march against Clark in
If Clark in turn had awaited the blow he
would have surely met defeat; but he was
a greater man than his antagonist, and with
scanty resources he did what the other had
thought to be impossible.
Finding that Hamilton had sent home some
of his troops and dispersed all his Indians,
Clark realized that his chance was to strike be-
fore Hamilton's soldiers assembled again in the
spring. Accordingly he gathered together the
pick of his men, together with a few Creoles,
one hundred and seventy all told, and set out
for Vincennes. At first the journey was easy
enough, for they passed across the snowy Illi-
nois prairies, broken by great reaches of lofty
woods. They killed elk, buffalo, and deer for
food, there being no difficulty in getting all they
wanted to eat; and at night they built huge
fires by which to sleep, and feasted like Indian
war-dancers, as Clark said in his report.
But when, in the middle of February, they
reached the-drowned lands of the Wabash, they
found the ice had just broken up and every-
thing was flooded. The difficulties seemed al-
most insuperable, and so their march became
painful and laborious to a degree. All day long

the troops waded in the icy water, and at night to do. The Indians, not knowing how great
they could with difficulty find some little hil- might be the force that would assail the town,
lock on which to sleep. Only Clark's indomi- at once took refuge in the neighboring woods,
table courage and cheerfulness kept the party while the Creoles retired to their own houses.
in heart and enabled them to persevere. How- The British knew nothing of what had hap-
ever, persevere they did, and at last, on Feb- opened until the Americans had actually entered
ruary 23, they came in
sight of the town of
Vincennes. They cap-
tured a Creole who
was out shooting
ducks, and from him
learned that their ap-
proach was utterly un-
suspected, and that
there were many In-
dians in town.
Clark was .now in
some doubt as to how
to make his fight. The
British regulars dwelt
in a small fort at one
end of the town, where
they had two light
guns; but Clark feared
that, if he made a sud-
den night-attack, the
townspeople and Indi-
ans would from sheer
fright turn against him.
He accordingly ar-
ranged, just before he
himself marched in, to
send in the captured
duck-hunter, convey-
ing a warning to the
Indians and Creoles
that he was about to
attack the town, but c .
that his only quarrel "
was with the British, -.
and that if the other
inhabitants would stay
would not be molested.
Sending the duck-hunter ahead, Clark took the streets of the little village. Rushing for-
up his march and entered the town just after ward, Clark's men soon penned the regulars
nightfall. The news conveyed by the released within their fort, where they kept them sur-
hunter astounded the townspeople, and they rounded all night. The next day a party of
talked it over eagerly, and were in doubt what Indian warriors, who in the British interest had
VOL. XXII.-81.


been ravaging the settlements of Kentucky,
arrived and entered the town, ignorant that
the Americans had captured it. Marching
boldly forward to the fort, they suddenly found
it beleaguered, and before they could flee
were seized by the backwoodsmen. At their
belts they carried the scalps of the slain set-
tlers. The savages were taken red-handed, and
the American frontiersmen were in no mood
to show mercy. All the Indians were quickly
tomahawked in sight of the fort.
For some time the British defended them-

selves well; but at length their guns were
disabled, all of the gunners being picked off
by the backwoods marksmen, and finally the
garrison dared not so much as appear at a port-
hole, so deadly was the fire from the long rifles.
Under such circumstances Hamilton was forced
to surrender.
No attempt was afterward made to molest
the Americans in the land they had won, and
upon the conclusion of peace the Northwest,
which had been conquered by Clark, became
part of the United States.



Now mostly in the forest dank,
Or 'mid the meadow's herbage rank,
When Flora's lovelier tribes give place,
The Mushroom's scorned but curious race
Bestud the moist autumnal earth-
A quick but perishable birth.
Prompt to alter, fade, decay!

THE mushroom race is indeed a scorned one,
as Bishop Mant tells us in this quaint little
rhyme, but none the less interesting, and, in
many instances, extremely beautiful. Before
proceeding to tell of the wonders to be discov-
ered among these lowly inhabitants of the earth,
look with me for a moment at the first toad-
stool we can find, and let me tell you the names
of its different parts. The top, or cover of
this little umbrella, is called by the Latin word
pileus, meaning cap; under this the thin plates
running to a common center are called gills, but
in some species these are replaced by porous
tissue which looks like a fine sponge, and in
these species the pores are called tubes. In
many kinds, especially when young, there is a
thin membrane like a veil extending from the
edge of the cap to the stem, inclosing and pro-
tecting the gills. As the mushroom grows the
veil breaks away, and its ragged remnants are
left hanging in a circle about the stem, and
this is known as the ring. A great many kinds

of mushrooms, especially the poisonous ones,
spring from a volva, or socket, which is like a
stout ring round the stem close to the ground.
The spores (seeds), composed of a two-coated
cell, are borne on the gills or tubes under the
cap. One plant often produces ten million
spores. To see these tiny spores you must cut
the top of a toadstool off and lay it right side
up on a sheet of black paper. After a few
hours, remove it carefully, and an exact rep-
resentation of its shape will remain on the
paper, formed by the thousands of spores
which have fallen out. If the spores fall on
favorable soil they germinate and send out
great numbers of tiny threads. These, becom-
ing intertwined and woven together, cover
the ground like the finest web, and this is
known as the mycelium, or "spawn." The
threads absorb nourishment and carry it to the
quickened spore.
Fungi, unlike ordinary plants, possess no col-
oring matter. They live upon other plants or
animals, or draw their food from vegetable or
animal substances in the soil. From the my-
celium spring tiny mushrooms, perfect in form,
and they await, on or just below the earth's
surface, the warm, moist weather which enables
them to spring forth and grow with almost
magical rapidity.


Scarcely a day passes in which we do not see
some forms of fungi, so common are they -
inhabiting every nook and corner. If we walk
in the fields, the woods, even in the dooryard,
we see the little white, gray, and brown umbrel-
las of the toadstools and mushrooms. Going to
the preserve-closet, we see that on the tops of
many of the bottles a white growth has formed.
Our old shoes hidden away in the dark have
a greenish dust upon them: this is another fun-
gus; and the mother" in vinegar claims cous-
inship with the yeast which raises our bread.
The pastepot is flecked with pink, green,
and gray spots, all fungi. Some of the grain
crops are often subject to partial or complete
destruction from different kinds of fungi-the
"smut" of wheat and corn, ergot of rye, and
Silkworms are destroyed in vast numbers
by a mould. Its spores, entering their bodies,
fill the whole interior, and cause death in from
seventy to a hundred and forty hours. The
hop crop is often ruined by "mildew." One
strange fungus attacks a kind of caterpillar,
growing like a tree from his back until it is
much larger than the poor worm, that crawls
about with his unwelcome guest until it kills
him. It was once described in ST. NICHOLAS.*
An enthusiastic gardener, who had spent
eleven years in caring for one of the finest col-
lections of hollyhocks in the world, tells how,
just a month before he resigned his position, he
had to witness the death of bed after bed of
"these dear children," which were smitten with
a new and terrible kind of fungus.
To end the misdoings which are all charge-
able to the tribe of fungi in one form or an-
other, we must listen to Dr. Badham, who says:
"A conspiracy of plants one hundred strong
have long ago planned the destruction of the
Coliseum; their undermining process advances
each year, and neither iron nor new brick work
can arrest it long."
As there are two sides to every case, we will
now see What the fungi can do to benefit us,
to make up for their many ill deeds. They
are rightly called nature's scavengers, for, as
Dr. Berkeley says, as soon as the death of any
vegetable substance occurs an army of fungi of

various kinds is at hand to complete its re-
moval by taking up the juices of the decaying
As an article of food mushrooms are becom-
ing more widely and favorably known each
year. Immense quantities are grown for mar-
ket in caves near Paris, some of the beds being
seven miles long. One grower has twenty-one
miles of mushrooms growing at M6ry. In
Italy the truffle-beds are so valuable that they
are guarded as carefully as are game preserves
in England. But the poachers, quite equal to
the necessity, train their dogs to go among the
beds, dig up those mushrooms of marketable
value, and bring them out to the edge, where
they are waiting to receive them. Mushrooms
bring in a revenue of four thousand pounds a
year to Rome, and M. Roques calls the de-
spised toadstools the "manna of the poor."
Mr. Julius Palmer, our own authority on
mushrooms, says: "Were the poorer classes
of Russia, Germany, Italy, or France to see our
forests during the autumn rains, they would feast
on the rich food there going to waste. For
this harvest requires no seed-time and asks for
no peasant's toil., At the same time the value
of mushroom diet ranks second to meat alone.
America is one of the richest countries in mush-
room food."
Dr. Curtis tells how he went out one night
during our civil war, when meat was very
scarce and dear, and gathered many kinds of
mushrooms, of which he composed a stew or
mixture, which was an excellent supper. Not
only human beings, but cows, sheep, squirrels,
and many kinds of birds, are fond of mush-
rooms. In many places mushrooms are dried
just as our grandmothers once dried apples,
strung on strings, and hung from the ceiling for
winter use. Some European species are used
in coloring. One yields a yellow dye, another
an exquisite green which colors the tree on
which it grows; and from this wood is manufac-
tured the celebrated Tunbridge ware. The
poor people of Franconia, Germany, dry, press,
and stitch together a certain kind of mushroom,
which is then made into garments; and in Bo-
hemia a large round toadstool is dried and the
inside removed; it is turned bottom upward,

* See ST. NICHOLAS for March, 1887.



fastened to the wall, and used to hold a beauti-
ful trailing vine, which grows luxuriantly.
Thoreau, happening one day upon a fine spe-
cimen of the common toadstool, christened it
the "Parasol Fungus." "It looked," he said,
"like an old felt hat pushed up into a cone,
and was almost big enough for a child's head.
It was so delicate and fragile that its whole cap
trembled at the least touch. How did its soft
cone ever break through the earth ?"
Having now reviewed the offices of the fungi,
both good and ill, let us note some of their
modes of growth, their individual peculiarities
and beauties. There is one fungus which has
a fancy for growing upon the hoofs and horns
of cattle. Another strange one grows beneath
the ground in India; it is in appearance like
an orchid bulb, and is called "little man's
head," in memory of a race of dwarfs who, as
tradition tells us, once inhabited this part of
the country. One variety, aspiring occasion-
ally to leave this earth, has been found on the
very highest pinnacle of St. Paul's."
Probably you have all noticed the little white
puff-balls in spring, and shot off" the same in
autumn, when they are dry and full of dark
powder. This is one of our choicest eatable
mushrooms. One admirer says he cut a slice
from a giant puff-ball, which grew near his
home, every day for a week, and had so many
fresh fritters; whereas, if he had cut it all down
the first day, it would not have made nearly
so many delicious meals. One giant puff-ball,
when young and creamy, if well cooked, will
satisfy the appetites of twelve people. In olden
times slices of this mushroom were used to
bind up cuts, and were said to insure their
speedy healing. In the days of flint and steel,
before matches were invented, the powder of
the dried puff-ball was often used to catch
and hold the sparks. Another strange use to
which it was put was to bur it before a bee-
hive. The fumes made the bees drowsy, and
the honey could be removed without difficulty.
The uses of this fungus are admirably pictured
in the following lines:

We '11 make a feast in our mossy dell,
Of infant puff-ball and rare morel,
And many a favored guest shall sup
On lily dew from a silver cup.

The aged puff-balls shall help us to cheat
The dainty bees of their luscious meat,
While others shall burn to give us light
And scare from our dell the dreary night.

The Siberian convicts procure a poisonous
fungus, the fly-agaric, roll pieces of it into
small balls, and swallow it. It produces a
remarkable effect. At first the victim laughs,
sings, dances, and if a straw is placed in his
path he jumps several feet in trying to step
over it. A man traveling in Australia found
a large mushroom of this genus weighing five
pounds. He took it to the house where he was
stopping, and hung it up to dry in the sitting-
room. Entering after dark, he was amazed to
see a beautiful soft light emanating from the


fungus. He called in the natives to examine it,
and at the first glance they cried out in great
fear that it was a spirit. It continued to give
out light for many nights, gradually decreasing
until it was wholly dry.
Dr. Gardner, while walking through the
streets of a Brazilian town, saw some boys
playing with a luminous object, which he at
first thought was a large firefly; but he found
on inspection it was a brilliant mushroom
(Agaric) which now bears his name. It gave
out a bright light of a greenish hue, and was.
called by the natives "flor de coco," as it grew
on a species of palm. The young plants emit
a brilliant light, and the older ones a pale
greenish light. Many kinds of fungi are phos-
phorescent. Humboldt describes some exqui-
sitely beautiful ones he saw in the mines. The




glow in rotten wood is caused by its containing
the threads of light-giving fungi.
Some of the Agarics and the fairy-ring cham-
pignons grow in rings, springing up each year in
a little wider circle than that of the year before,
until by and by the ring breaks and the line
becomes wavy, which shows that the crop has
become exhausted. The fairy-ring champignon
is one of our most delicious mushrooms, grow-
ing on rich lawns and on the roadsides.
Gerarde, the old English botanist, says:
The meadow mushrooms are in kind the best;
It is ill trusting any of the rest,-

which shows that in his time very little was
known about these valuable -additions to our
table. When mushrooms were brought into
Rome for sale, all of this kind were at one time
picked out and thrown into the Tiber. In
England it is. called the horse mushroom on
account of the large size it attains, sometimes
weighing fourteen pounds.
Persons who are acquainted with the flavors
of many fungi tell us that different kinds so
closely resemble the tastes of beef, lamb, and
other meats that they can often scarcely be
told from them. There is the liver fungus
growing on the ancient oaks of Sherwood

Forest, which looks like a huge red tongue,
and closely resembles beefsteak in taste. Mr.
Worthington Smith says that the English
chanterelle looks when growing as if made of
solid gold. It tastes and smells like ripe apri-
cots. Some of the mushrooms taste like chest-
nuts. From one kind, which resembles in flavor
lamb's kidney, a white milk oozes that is mild
and pleasant to taste.
Some of our best eatable fungi are the dif-
ferent kinds of boleti. These, instead of having
plates or gills beneath the cap, have a mass of
fine tubes. They are mainly reddish or brown
on top and cream-color or pale greenish be-
neath. One poisonous boletus is lurid red
above and below. In France, as soon as the
early spring mushrooms appear, one choice
kind is gathered in little baskets and sent to
the doctors in payment of any fee which may
be owing to them.
One fungus is a perfect ear in shape; an-
other, Dr. Badham says, "hangs upon its stalk
like a lawyer's wig." Still another kind, which
grew beneath a pavement and was possessed
of great strength, lifted a flagstone weighing
eighty-three pounds half an inch out of its
bed. The oyster mushroom (so called from

-. ^S ^. ---.

.. ... -___ _- -

its close resemblance in color and manner of
growth to a cluster of oysters, being white
beneath and brown or gray above) is found
on the trunks of old elm-trees.


All our poisonous fungi spring from a socket.
Of these the Amanitas are perhaps the most
deadly. They are mostly white, some being
blotched with orange or pale yellow. A person
who is poisoned easily may be seriously affected
by handling these mushrooms or even merely
breathing the air about where they grow. If
one is eaten the skin turns a strange dusky hue
in from eight to fifteen hours afterward, death
soon following.
Mr. Smith tells his experiences with the poi-
sonous forest mushroom. He found a large
fungus one day in the woods, and as it looked
very inviting, he cut a part of it, which he car-
ried home and had carefully cooked, inviting


two gentlemen to lunch with him. He himself
ate, he says, perhaps a fourth of an ounce, and
shortly after the meal was finished left home.
He was soon overcome by a feeling of gloom
and nervousness, succeeded by a severe head-
ache. His brain began to swim, and he was
seized with violent pains. He was able to stand
with great difficulty, and all objects seemed
to be moving with deathlike stillness from side
to side. He finally reached home, where he
found his two friends in a similar condition.
For some time they all expected to die; but
fortunately all recovered.
Those persons who are acquainted with fungi
(and no others should attempt to gather them)
are never poisoned unless they are trying some
unknown species, or unless they are exceedingly
Of the beautiful and brilliant fungi, per-
haps the violet-cobweb mushroom surpasses
all others. It grows beneath fir and pine trees,
contrasting its purple with the velvety moss
and tender grass. Another which vies with it
in beauty springs up on decaying wood in early
spring. Its scarlet-tinted cups appear before
the snow has gone.
While riding among the White Mountains, a
few years ago, I found some great fungi grow-
ing on the trees of the hemlock forests of that
region. They were brown or gray on top, some
of them having pretty little borders of red and
black on the edges. The under sides were pale
cream-color. I found that the inhabitants of
these regions used them for brackets, which
were much handsomer than any that could





have been purchased. Our woods are full of
a fungus, growing on the tree-trunks, which
is very much like this White Mountain one,
only much smaller. As it has the appearance
of a little wing, I call it the butterfly fungus.
Some of the wings are soft and rich-looking,
like velvet; others have a satiny luster, and
shade from white through pale yellow and
orange to deep brown. Others are dark gray
or black, shading always in regular graded
stripes to white on the edge.
Glancing from my window, one morning after
a warm rain, at my neighbor the red cedar, I
saw that it was covered with small plums, soft

/..' /' .. /




manufactories have been established. It takes
a lichen many years to come to maturity, as it
grows very slowly, and not at all in dry weather.


The lichen's most important function seems
to be to beautify the landscape, though some
S tiny ones are utilized by mother humming-bird
to cover the outside of her nest, in order to
S... conceal it as much as possible. In Iceland the
lichen called Iceland moss is gathered every
year by the boys and girls. It is boiled in milk
and eaten. Fanny Bergen, in her little book
S on "Plant Life," tells us that the Indians guided
S themselves through the trackless forests by ob-
serving on which sides of the trees the lichens
grew thickest, those being the northern sides.
Ruskin thus beautifully describes the part ful-
filled in nature by these lowly but dainty mem-
bers of the vegetable kingdom: In one sense
the humblest, in another they are the most
honored of the earth-children. Strong in lowli-

and translucent, and of a bright orange color,
hanging by slender stems from the little twigs.
They had appeared with mushroom-like rapid-
ity, having developed in a single night; after a
few hours' exposure to the sunshine they were
gone. This magical fruit was the cedar-apple.
It lasts but a brief time.

Quite a different race, but not less interesting,
is that of the Lichens. While the fungi derive
their food from the objects on which they
grow, the lichens need only what they absorb
from the atmosphere. Where that is impure
they cannot live. Certain kinds of lichens,
which were before very plentiful, have entirely
disappeared from regions where collieries and




ness, they neither blanch in heat nor pine in
frost. To them, slow-fingered, constant-hearted,
is intrusted the weaving of the dark, eternal
tapestries of the hills; to them, slow-penciled,
iris-eyed, the tender framing of their endless
imagery. Sharing the stillness of the unimpas-

sioned rock, they share also its endurance. Far
above, among the mountains, the silver lichen
spots rest star-like on the stone; and the gath-
ering orange stain upon the edge of yonder
western peak reflects the sunsets of a thousand

, r., '" '

B-\ A,. tae kEwi- IT..HILi.

I 'LL t- ll \ou a secict I 'd. n' t1ink \-u kuiwj it!
The raises e"re cjirningr last righi t :on the In.
W\ile \l uii were a\ll -leel..in '.t:l: orr: istl creeping.
I '.unl their W'liit tenrr-. Lbut the airies had gone.

Y -~ sc.4. -

S They ivere in a gl[eat flurry., or i -h sho.ild'the\
S -A '" 1-Iburr\ r
S.. .. ..,e e the l ir wvhiie rtents w.is a. queer thing to do:'.
l: M e thNe come o'nl\ at nihit. %, hen 't is lonely .
I guess ti \ ar'e cl.i gip-i ifines--Don't vou .

\: '.. 3 ii




[Begun in the April number, r894.]


JACK was awakened from a sound sleep by
some one shaking him. He opened his eyes.
A rough, red face was bending over just above
him. In the first instant of waking he could
not remember where he was, or what face it
was that was looking at him. He was, first of
all, conscious of a throbbing, beating pain in
the palms of his hands. It seemed to him that
he had felt it all night.
"What is it?" said he. "What do you.
want? "
Why," said Captain Dolls, we 're at Nor-
folk, and have been here for three hours and
more. Colonel Parker 's aboard, and he wants
to see you. He 's out in the great cabin now."
Jack was wide awake by this time. Very
well," said he; "then I '11 go to him directly.
Have you a bucket of water here, that I may
wash myself? I 'm not fit to go to his honor
as I am."
Why, yes; if you want water to wash with,
I '11 call William Kitchen to fetch some."
Later, Jack stood lingering for a moment at
the door of the cabin. His heart was beating
quickly with trepidation. He could hear Col-
onel Parker's voice within. What would the
great gentleman say and do ?
Go on," said Captain Dolls, who had fol-
lowed him. "What d' ye stop for?" Then
Jack opened the door and went in.
Some one rose as he entered: it was Colonel
Parker. In a swift look Jack saw that the
young lady had been sitting beside her father.
Captain Dolls's wife was also in the cabin. She
was packing the young lady's clothes into a
traveling-bag. Jack saw that the young lady
was looking at him; he saw in the glance that
VOL. XXII.-82.

she had been crying. Colonel Parker was look-
ing at him also. Was it, then, one so young
as thou," said he, "who would dare to bring my
Nelly away from the villains ? Come hither";
and as Jack came lingeringly forward, Colonel
Parker reached out and laid his hand upon
Jack's shoulder, holding it firmly. He looked
long and steadily at Jack's face. "Ay," said he,
"'t is a good, honest face." Jack was conscious
that the captain's wife was looking on and lis-
tening. It made him feel more embarrassed
than he would perhaps otherwise have felt.
Colonel Parker was still gazing at him. Jack
could not look up. Ay," said the Colonel
again, "'t is a good, honest face, and the face
of an honest young man. I am glad 't was
such a good, honest soul that brought our
Nelly back to us. We shall never, never forget
what you have done,-never forget it."
His mood was still very warm with the emo-
tions that had melted him. And as he spoke
he was very much moved. "And that other pre-
server," said he,-" that other brave companion
who gave his life-yes, his life-that he might
save my girl,--never can I forget him. But he
is beyond anything that I can do to reward
him and to bless him now. I would that he
were here, that I might show him, as I shall
show you, that we shall never forget what you
have done for us."
In his softened mood, still holding Jack by
the shoulder, Colonel Parker drew out his
handkerchief and wiped his eyes and his face.
Jack, knowing that there were tears running
down out of the great man's eyes, had not
dared to look into his face, but stood gazing
down upon the floor.
"Well," said Colonel Parker, "we are just
making ready to leave this and to go aboard of
my own vessel, and so back to Marlborough.
If you have anything to get ready, you had
better do so, for of course you go along with us."


"I have nothing to get ready," said Jack.
"There were two overcoats we brought with
us. They belong to Captain Teach, but I left
them in the yawl last night."
Every moment as he stood there he was
happier and happier. It seemed to him, in-
deed, that he was beginning to reap his reward.
The words that Colonel Parker had said to
him seemed to grow riper and riper to his
mind, and he was very happy. His hands,
however, hurt him very much.
Just then the captain came into the cabin.
"Well, sirrah," said Colonel Parker, looking
sternly at him, "my daughter tells me that you
made her promise that I would pay you ten
pounds for fetching her back from the capes."
The captain stood awkwardly. He rubbed first
one side of his face with his hand, and then the
other. Well, what have you to say for your-
self? said Colonel Parker.
"'T will, maybe, lose me three days by com-
ing back, your honor."
"Three days! Well, even if you lose three
days, is that worth ten pounds, d' ye think ?"
The captain did not reply.
"Come, papa," said the young lady, "do
not be so hard with him. 'T was I promised
you would pay it."
"Well," said Colonel Parker, "'t is not rea-
sonable that the man should trade upon your
necessities. 'T is a rogue to have done such
a thing. Five pounds would have paid the
man more than well; but ten pounds! Well,
fetch me hither pen, ink, and paper, sirrah,
and I '11 give you an order on my agent here
in Norfolk. I '11 pay you,-but I have my
opinion of you."
Lieutenant Maynard stood waiting at the
open gangway as the three came out of
the cabin, preceded by the captain carrying
the bundle. Mr. Maynard took off his hat
as the young lady approached.
"This is my daughter, Lieutenant Maynard,"
said Colonel Parker; and the lieutenant bowed
low to her. "And this," said Colonel Parker,'*
"is the young man who brought her back--
a fine, noble fellow, and a good, honest, comely
lad, too."
"Why, then," said the lieutenant to Jack,
"I shall ask you to let me take your hand.

Give me your hand." Jack reached out his
throbbing palm to the lieutenant, who shook it
firmly. "Zounds! you are a hero," said he.
"See, sir," said he to Colonel Parker; this is
the boat they escaped in -such a little open
boat as that to come all the way from Bath
Town, and through a storm, they tell me, in
the lower sound! We are going to tow it
over to the schooner."
He pointed down at the yawl as it lay along-
side, fastened to the other boat by the bow-line.
Colonel Parker looked down into the empty
boat. There was the stain of blood still upon
the thwart where Dred had sat when he was
shot. The very emptiness of the boat, as it lay
there, seemed to speak all the more vividly
of the tragedy that had been enacted in it.

Jack sat in the stern of the boat, not far
from Colonel Parker and the young lady, as it
was rowed away toward the schooner. They
were towing the yawl behind. He was feeling
how his smarting hands throbbed and burned
in pulsations of pain. He looked down fur-
tively into one of his palms.
"Why, what is the matter with your hand,
my lad ? said Colonel Parker, suddenly.
Jack blushed red, and shut his fist tight. "I
flayed them rowing, your honor," said he.
"While you were helping Nelly away ?"
"Yes, your honor."
"Let me see your hand."
Jack held it out reluctantly, conscious of the
rough knuckles and nails. Colonel Parker took
it in his. "Why," he exclaimed, "what a dread-
ful, terrible sore hand is this! Let me see
t' other. And did you suffer this in helping
Nelly get away? Why, Lieutenant, look at the
poor boy's hands. They must be salved and
dressed as soon as we get him aboard the
"Let me see, my lad," said the lieutenant.

COLONEL PARKER'S schooner had now been
lying for two days at Norfolk, whither it had
come after having picked up the crew of the
bark Duchess Mary"-the vessel the pirates





had sunk-at the mouth of the bay. In the
open boat there were, as has been said, besides
the crew, eleven redemption servants-nine
men and two women.
The mate had been trying to make arrange-
ments to have the servants and the shipwrecked
crew forwarded to Charleston, whither the
Duchess Mary had been consigned. Mean-
time, at his request, the servants had been held
aboard of the schooner for safe keeping.
Perhaps there was no part of his misfortunes
more bitter to Attorney Burton than to be thus
held a prisoner in the very sight of land, and
almost within reach of the town.
The news that Colonel Parke;'s daughter
had escaped from the pirates, and that one of
the pirates had brought her back, was known
all over the ship, since word to that effect had
been brought aboard early in the morning.
Now the boat was returning, bringing the
young lady and her rescuer, and all on board
clustered at the side, looking out toward it as
it approached.
Attorney Burton stood looking on with the
others. He had heard that the young lady
had been brought back, and that the man who
had rescued her was one of the pirates. He
was very curious to see him. The crowd about
him jostled him and pushed him, but he held
his place. The boat was coming nearer and
nearer. It was towing another boat after it.
From where the little attorney stood he could
see that the surgeon and the sailing-master and
the master's mate stood at the gangway wait-
ing for the approaching boat. The men all
around him were talking, and he listened as
he stood looking.
"That's the young lady sitting there in the
stem." "That young fellow must be he what
fetched her back." Why, he looks to be no
more than a boy! To think of him being one
of them pirates!" The boat was close under the
side of the schooner, and the next moment the
crew had unshipped their oars with a loud
and noisy clatter. The lieutenant leaned out
astern, and stopped the yawl as it slid past
him with the impetus of its motion, and then
it also fell around broadside to the schooner.
A young man sat in the stern of the boat with
the young lady and her father. As it stopped

he arose with Colonel Parker and Lieutenant
Maynard. Attorney Burton looked down at
them with the others. Was that young man
-almost a boy--really one of the America
pirates? They were assisting the young lady
"By glory! she 's a beauty!" said one of
the men.
"I wish I had that there young fellow's
luck," said another, to have fetched her back
as he 's done. 'T is like his fortune is made
with it."
The young man was roughly dressed in a
sort of half sailor costume. His hair was long
and shaggy. Suddenly he turned up his face,
and the attorney could see it more plainly.
There was something very familiar in the face.
Then the young man had climbed aboard after
the others, and he and the young lady and
Colonel Parker and Lieutenant Maynard had
gone into the cabin together.
One of the crew of the boat threw a line
aboard. Some of the men on deck caught it,
and drew both of the boats and the yawl for-
ward to the davits, close to which the attorney
was standing. Out of the way, there! said
one of the men, and then he moved aside.
What boat have ye in tow there, Tommy ?"
called one of the men to an oarsman of the
boat's crew below. "Is that the boat he
fetched her up in?"
The man in the boat below looked up.
"Ay," said he, "that 's the boat they came
up in. There was a man shot aboard of her.
He was shot where ye see the blood there on
the stem-thwart."
The attorney could see a dark stain upon
the seat.
"Who was it 't was shot ?"
I don't just know what his name was, but
't was one of them pirates."
They made fast the falls to the boat, and
were hoisting her aboard. There were some
men in the yawl. "You 'd better push that
yawl aft. We '11 tow her astern," said the
master's mate, who had come forward.
Ay, ay, sir! "
The attorney plucked the sleeve of one of
the boat's crew who had come aboard, and was
standing talking to a little group that had gath-


ered around him. The man turned to the at-
torney. "Do you know what is that young
pirate's name ?" said the lawyer.
"Why, yes," said the man. Let me see,
though; I do believe I 've forgot. What was
it? Lancaster? No, that were n't it. 'T were
something like Lancaster. What was the name
of that young fellow, Jimmy ?" said he, turn-
ing 'to another of the crew; "I 've clean
"Who? The young lad in the boat? 'T were
Ballister," said the man.

Jack sat in the cabin while Dr. Poor dressed
his hands. The surgeon was just winding a
linen bandage around one of them. The dress-
ing felt very soothing and cool to Jack. Colo-
nel Parker and the young lady and Lieutenant
Maynard sat opposite to him across the table.
Colonel Parker had been asking them many
things about the circumstances of their escape.
Jack had just been telling what he knew of the
circumstances of the young lady's abduction.
"And were you with the pirates, then, when
they took Nelly away ? said Colonel Parker.
"No, sir. I did n't go with them over to
the house, if you mean that, your honor,"
said Jack. "I stayed aboard of the boat
while they went. There was a watch of half
a dozen left aboard, and I was with them.
The others went off in three boats. The yawl
was one of them. It was the biggest of the
three, and Blackbeard went in it. I ha'd only
just come aboard, and I don't think they would
have chosen me to go with them upon such
an expedition. I had just run away from Mr.
Parker's then, and that was my first day with
Why, then, I am glad of that," said Col-
onel Parker. "I am very glad you were not-
with them in such a wicked business as attack-
ing a defenseless house of women. But I don't
see how they could dare to do such a thing.
There must have been some one put the vil-
lains up to doing such a thing. Did you hear
whether there was any one else concerned in it,
instigating them to do the outrage ? "
Jack had heard enough talk in Blackbeard's
house to guess that Mr. Richard Parker had
been the prime mover in the outrage, but he

did not dare to tell Colonel Parker so to his
very face. "Why, -I can 't say," said he; "but
they 're very desperate villains, your honor, and
that's the truth. You don't think what des-
perate villains they are when you are with
them, for they talk and act just like anybody
else. But I do believe that there 's nothing
they will stop at."
Colonel Parker sat in silence for a little
Ay," said he at last, and speaking in a low
voice, "well do I know, to my sorrow, what
desperate villains they are. No one knoweth
it better than I." No one spoke; all knew
that he was thinking of how his son had been
Jack was thinking how intimately Dred was
concerned in that tragic happening. Then he
suddenly remembered what Dred had told him
about the chest of money Blackbeard had bur-
ied. "I nigh forgot to tell your honor," said
he. Dred told me, just before he died, that the
pirates had taken a chest of money out of the
vessel that- that time when-"
"Ay," said Colonel Parker; "I know what
you mean. 'T was that wretched 'chest that
my poor dear Ned gave his life to defend.
Rather would I have paid ten times all there
was in it than that he should have endangered
his precious life in defending it. They could
not have got so much by it, either," he con-
tinued; '" for there was only between three and
four thousand pounds of coin in it, the rest
being goldsmiths' bills and bills of exchange
which were being forwarded to some merchants
in Baltimore."
"Well," said Jack, Dred told me that
Blackbeard had buried that chest down near
his house at Bath Town. He said he saw
Blackbeard bury it at night. He told me just
where it was hid. I believe I could find the
very place if I had the chance."
Could you, indeed! cried Colonel Parker.
He sat thinking for a few minutes. "Very
well; I will speak to you about that at another
The surgeon had been silently listening as he
bound up Jack's other hand. He clipped off
the thread. "There; you are all as well as I
can make you now," said he.




And indeed they feel mightily comfortable,"
said Jack, opening and shutting his hand; "and
I thank you kindly."
"If you '11 go along now with Dr. Poor,"
said Colonel Parker, "he '11 take you to the
lieutenant's cabin. The steward hath laid out
some clean clothes there for you to put on."

The steward was just coming out of the lieu-
tenant's cabin when the surgeon brought Jack
to it. "You '11 find everything you want in
there, I do suppose," said the steward. "If
you don't find everything, you may call me.
I '11 be just outside here."
He had laid the clothes upon the lieutenant's
berth. He closed the door as he went away,
and Jack stood looking about him. It was
very clean and neat. A cool, fresh smell per-
vaded it. He laid his clothes aside and sat
down upon the edge of the berth, and then,
presently, lay down at length upon it. As he
lay there, resting, he was very happy. He went
over in his mind all that had passed that morn-
ing. How beautiful it all was! How kind was
Colonel Parker! Yes; he was reaping his re-
ward. He lay there, thinking and thinking.
Everything seemed very bright and hopeful.
His hands felt so comfortable! He lifted them
and looked at the bandages. How neatly they
were stitched! He could smell the salve. He
was glad that Colonel Parker had seen his
hands, and that they had looked so terribly
sore. At last he roused himself and looked
at the clothes, turning them over and feeling
them. They were of fine brown cloth, and
there were a pair of white stockings. I wish
I had something to rub up my shoes a trifle,"
thought Jack; they look mightily rusty and
He got up and began dressing. There was
a wash-bowl and a ewer of water in the cabin.
Should he use them ? He stood, hesitating and
looking at them. Yes, he would use them.
He poured out some water from the pitcher,
trying to make as little ioise as possible. He
washed his face with the towel, trying care-
fully not to wet the bandages on his hands.
Then he began -dressing himself again. He
stopped in the middle of dressing and lay
down upon the berth, resting there and build-

ing castles in the air. How fine it would be to
be at Marlborough, not as a servant, but as
somebody living in the house! He could hardly
believe that he was to live at Marlborough.
Suddenly the door was opened and the steward
looked in. Jack sprang up from where he lay.
"Be n't you dressed yet?" said the steward.
"Well, then, hurry as quick as you can. His
honor wants you over in his own cabin. There
is somebody aboard here who knows you.
He 's been in his honor's cabin for ten minutes
or more. He's there now, and his honor wants
you. 'T is a lawyer -a man named Burton.
He says he knew you in Southampton."
"A lawyer! cried Jack, "Burton! Why,
to be sure I know him. Are you sure that is
who 't is? Why, how does he come aboard
here ? What is Lawyer Burton doing here in
America? "
He was dressing himself rapidly as he talked.
The steward came into the. cabin, and closed
the door after him. "Why," said he, "he
came here naturally enough. The pirates sunk
a vessel out at sea, and we picked up one of
the boats down at the mouth of the bay.
There was a lot of redemptioners aboard, and
this man was one of 'em. I heard him tell his
honor the lieutenant that he had been knocked
on the head and kidnapped."
Knocked on the head and kidnapped!"
said Jack. Why, that was just what hap-
pened to me."
Here, let me hold your coat for you," said
the steward. He held the coat while Jack
slipped his arms into the sleeves. "There;
now then, come straight along." He led the
way across the great cabin to the colonel's own
private cabin. He tapped on the door and
then opened it.
- "Come in," Colonel Parker called out, and
Jack entered.
He saw the Attorney Burton immediately.
Jack would not have recognized him if he had
not known whom he was to see. He looked,
somehow, very different from what .he had been
when Jack had seen him last. Jack could not
tell what it was that had changed him. It was
not the thin, stringy beard that covered his
cheeks and chin that made him look so differ-
ent. Perhaps it was more the rough, frowsy



clothes he wore, and the baggy breeches tied
at the knees.
Do you remember me, Master Jack? said
the attorney.
"Why, yes, I remember you well enough,"
said Jack; "but, to be sure, I would n't have
known you if the steward had not told me you
were here."
Colonel Parker was lying in his berth, a
blanket spread over his knees and feet. Miss
Eleanor Parker sat on the edge of the berth,
holding his hand, and the lieutenant sat oppo-
site in the narrow space. Come hither," said
Colonel Parker, reaching out his hand; and as
Jack came toward him he took the lad's ban-
daged hand into his own and held it firmly.
"Why did you not tell me who you were ?"
said he.
Why, I did tell you, your honor," said Jack.
"Don't call me 'your honor,'" said Colonel
Parker; call me 'sir,' or else Colonel Parker.'"
"Yes, sir," said Jack, blushing.
"But you did not tell me about yourself,"
said Colonel Parker. "You told me that you
had been kidnapped, and that you had some
fortune of your own in England. That was
all you told me. 'How should I have known
that you were Lady Dinah Wellbeck's nephew,
and that you were heir to such a fortune as
hath been left you, according to what this good
fellow saith-a fortune of six or seven thou-
sand pounds? Why did you not tell me that?"
"Why, I don't know, sir," said Jack. I
don't know why I did n't tell you, but I did n't
think to do it."
"Well, I am glad that now I shall know
how to do for you."
Jack was filled with happiness and elation as
he stood with Colonel Parker holding his hand.

They had been sailing up the river all the
afternoon and all night. Now it was early in
the morning. The breeze was very light, and
Marlborough had been in sight for nearly an
hour. They were still a long distance away,
but they could see that the house had been
aroused by the approach of the schooner. They
could see people hurrying hither and thither,
and then a number come running down to the
landing from the house and the offices and the

cabins, until a crowd had gathered at the end of
the little wharf. The schooner drifted rather
than sailed nearer and nearer. At last they
could distinguish the individual figures upon
the wharf.
"There is thy mother, Nelly," said Colonel
Parker. "There is thy mother, my dear." He
spoke with trembling lips. The tears were run-
ning down the young lady's cheeks, but she
seemed hardly to notice them, and she was not
crying. She wiped her eyes and her cheeks
with her handkerchief and then waved it; then
wiped her eyes again; then waved it again.
"There is your Uncle Richard with her," said
Colonel Parker; and he also wiped his eyes as
he spoke.
Jack could see his former master standing
close to the edge of the wharf. He himself
stood a little to one side with the Attorney Bur-
ton. He had an uncomfortable feeling of not
sharing in all the joy of this home-bringing.
The schooner floated nearer and nearer. A
boat was pulling rapidly off from the, shore.
The anchor fell with a splash. They were close
to the wharf. The boat from the shore was
alongside. They were all cheering. Jack and
Attorney Burton stood silent in the midst of
it all. Colonel Parker turned to Jack, wiping
the tears from his eyes. "Come," said he;
"you shall go along with us. The others will
follow later."
The young lady did not see him or think
of him. The crew helped her down into the
boat, and Colonel Parker followed. Jack fol-
lowed after him. Then the men pulled away
toward the shore. In a moment they were at
the wharf. The people were crowded close to
the edge. Madam Parker had struggled so
close to the edge that her brother-in-law and
the Rev. Jonathan Jones were holding her.
She was crying convulsively and hysterically,
and reaching out her arms toward her daugh-
ter. Jack sat looking up at all the faces look-
ing down at them. The only unmoved one
among all upon the wharf was Mr. Richard
Parker. He stood calm and unruffled, with
hardly a change of expression upon his hand-
some face. The next moment the mother and
daughter were in each other's arms, weeping
and crying; and then a moment more, and




Colonel Parker was with them, his arms around
them both.
Still Mr. Richard Parker stood calmly by;
only now, when Jack looked, he saw that his
eyes were fastened steadily upon him, but there
was neither surprise nor interest in his face.
Then Jack, too, went ashore. Colonel Parker
saw him. "My dear," said he to his wife,
" this is our dear Nelly's preserver. Here is the
young man who brought her back."
Madam Parker looked up, her eyes stream-
ing with tears. She could not have seen Jack
through them. Jack stood overcome and
abashed. Through it all he was conscious that
Mr. Parker was still looking steadily at him.
"Ay, brother Richard," said Colonel Par-
ker, wiping his eyes, "you know him, do you
not? Well, 't is to him that we owe it that our
Nelly hath been brought back to us, for 't was
he who brought her."
Then Jack looked at his former master. He
wondered what Mr. Parker would say. He said
WE, in these times of America, protected by
the laws and by the number of people about
us, can hardly comprehend such a life as that
of the American colonies in the early part of
the last century, when it was possible for a
pirate like Blackbeard to exist, and for the gov-
ernor and the secretary of the province in which
he lived to share his plunder, and to shelter
and to protect him against the law.
At that time the American colonists were in
general a rough, rugged people, knowing no-
thing of the finer things of life. They lived
mostly in little settlements, separated by long
distances from one another, so that they could
neither make nor enforce laws to protect them-
selves. Each man or little group of men had
to depend upon his or their own strength to
keep what belonged to them, and to prevent
fierce men or groups of men from taking what
was theirs away from them.
It is the natural disposition of every one to
get all that he can. Little children usually try
to take away from others that which they want,
and to keep it for their own. It is only by con-

stant teaching that they learn that they must
not do so; that they must not take by force
what does not belong to them. It is only by
teaching and training that people learn to be
honest, and not to take what is not theirs.
When this teaching is not sufficient to make a
man learn to be honest, or when there is some-
thing in the man himself that makes him not
able to learn, then he lacks only the oppor-
tunity to seize upon the things he wants, just as
he would do if he were a little child.
In the colonies at the time, as has just been
said, men were too few and scattered to pro-
tect themselves against those who had made
up their minds to take by force whatever they
The usual means of communication between
province and province was by water, in coast-
ing-vessels. These small coasting-vessels were
so defenseless, and the different colonial gov-
ernments were so ill able to protect them,
that those who chose to rob them could do it
almost without danger to themselves.
So it was that all the western world was in
those days infested with armed bands of cruis-
ing freebooters or .pirates--men who had not
been taught, or who had not been able to learn,
that they must not take from others what be-
longed to those others. These pirates used to
stop merchant vessels, and take from them
what they chose.
Each province in those days was ruled over
by a royal governor appointed by the king.
Each provincial governor was at one time free
to do almost as he pleased in his own province.
They were accountable only to the king and
the home government; and England was so
distant that they were really responsible almost
to nobody but themselves.
The governors were just as desirous of get-
ting rich quickly, just as desirous of getting all
that they could for themselves, as was anybody
else, only they had been taught that it was not
right to be actual pirates or robbers. They
wanted to get rich easily and quickly, but they
did not desire riches so much as to lead them
to dishonor themselves in their own opinion,
and in the opinion of others, by gratifying the
desire. They would even have stopped the
pirates from doing unlawful acts, if possible;



but their provincial governments were too
weak to prevent the freebooters from robbing
merchant vessels, or to punish them when they
came ashore. The provinces had no navies,
and they really had no armies; neither were
there enough people living within the commu-
nities to enforce the laws against those stronger
and fiercer men who were not honest.
After the things the pirates seized from mer-
chant vessels were once stolen they were alto-
gether lost. Hardly ever did the owner apply
for them, for it would have been useless. The
stolen goods and merchandise lay in the store-
houses of the pirates, seemingly without any
owner excepting the pirates-who did hot own
them. The governors and the secretaries of
the colonies would not dishonor themselves by
piracy against merchant vessels; but it did not
seem so wicked after the goods were stolen to
take a part of that which seemed to have no
A child is taught that it is a very naughty
thing to take by force, for instance, a lump of
sugar from another child; but when a naughty
child has seized the sugar from another, and
taken it around the corer, and that other child
from whom it was seized has gone home cry-
ing, it does not seem so wrong for a third
child to take a bite of the sugar when it is of-
fered to him, even if he believes it has been
taken from some one else.
It was just so, no doubt, that it did not seem
so wicked to Governor Eden and Secretary
Knight of North Carolina to take a part of the
booty that Blackbeard had stolen. It did not
even seem very wicked to compel Blackbeard
to give them a part of what was not his, and
which seemed to have no owner.
However, in Governor Eden's time the col-
onies had begun to be so thickly peopled that
the laws in their turn gradually became
stronger and stronger to protect men in the
possession of what was theirs. Governor Eden
was the last of the colonial governors who was
a friend of the pirates. And Blackbeard was
the last of the pirates who, with his banded
men, was savage and powerful enough to come
and go as he chose among the people whom
he plundered.
Virginia at that time was the greatest and

the richest of all the American colonies.
Upon the further side of North Carolina was
the province of South Carolina, also strong and
rich. It was these two colonies that suffered
most from Blackbeard, and it began to be that
the honest men who lived in them could no
longer endure to be plundered.
The merchants and traders and others who
suffered cried out loudly for protection-so
loudly that the governors of these provinces
could not help hearing them.
SGovernor Eden was petitioned to act against
the pirates; but he would do nothing, for he
was very friendly toward Blackbeard-just as
a child who has had a taste of the stolen sugar
might feel friendly toward the child who gave
it to him.
At last the governor of Virginia, finding that
the governor of North Carolina would do no-
thing, took the matter into his own hands, and
issued a proclamation offering a reward of one
hundred pounds for Blackbeard, alive or dead,
and smaller sums for the other pirates.
Governor Spottiswood had the right to issue
the proclamation as he chose, but he had no
right to commission Lieutenant Maynard to
take down an armed force into the neighboring
province, to attack the pirates in the waters of
the North Carolina sounds. It was all a part
of the rude and lawless condition of the colo-
nies at the time that such a thing could have
been done.
The governor's proclamation against the pi-
rates was issued upon the eleventh day of No-
vember. It was read in the churches the
Sunday following, and was posted upon the
doors of all the government custom-offices in
lower Virginia. Lieutenant Maynard, in the
boats that Colonel Parker had already fitted
out to go against the pirates, set sail upon the
seventeenth of the month for Ocracock. Five
days later the battle with the pirates was fought.
On the evening of the twenty-second, the two
vessels under command of Lieutenant May-
nard came into the mouth of Ocracock Inlet,
and there dropped anchor. A New York ves-
sel was lying within the inlet. It had been
there over a night and a day, and the captain
and Blackbeard had become very good friends.
The same night that Maynard came into the



I -- -
VOL. XXII.--83. 657


inlet a wedding was held on the shore. A
number of men and women had come up the
beach in ox-carts and sledges; some had come
in boats from more distant points and across
the water.
The captain of the New Yorker and Black-
beard went ashore together a little after dark.
The New York captain had been aboard of the
pirate's sloop all the latter part of the afternoon.
It was nearly dark when they stepped ashore
on the beach.
The people had already begun to dance in
an open shed fronting the shore. There were
fires of pine-knots in front of the building, light-
ing up the interior with a red glare. There
was a negro playing a fiddle somewhere inside,
and the shed was filled with a crowd of gro-
tesque figures, dancing men and women. Now
and then they called with loud voices as they
danced, and the squeaking of the fiddle sounded
incessantly through the noise of voices and the
stamping and shuffling of feet.
Captain Teach and the New York captain
stood looking on.
The young woman who had just been mar-
ried approached the two. She had been dan-
"Hi, Captain, won't you dance with me? "
said she to Blackbeard.
"Why, to be sure I '11 dance with you; that
I will! said the pirate captain.
The other men and women who had been
standing around drew away, and in a little
while the floor was pretty well cleared. One
could see the negro now; he sat on a barrel
at the end of the room. He grinned, show-
ing his white teeth, and, without stopping in
his fiddling, scraped his bow harshly across the
strings, and then instantly changed the tune
to a lively jig. Blackbeard jumped up into
the air, and clapped his heels together, giving
as he did so a sharp, short yell. Then he be-
gan instantly dancing grotesquely and violently.

The woman danced opposite to him, this way
and that, with her knuckles on her hips. Every-
body was laughing loudly at Blackbeard's gro-
tesque antics. They laughed again and again,
clapping their hands. The negro scraped away
on his fiddle, and they danced and danced.
At last the woman burst out laughing, and
stopped. Blackbeard again jumped up in the
air, and clapped his heels. Again he yelled,
and as he did so he struck his heels upon the
floor and spun round. Once more everybody
burst out laughing, clapping their hands. The
negro stopped fiddling.
Hi, Captain!" called one of the men.
"Maynard 's out yonder in the inlet. Jack
Bishop's just come across from t' other side.
He says the King's man hailed him, and asked
for a pilot to fetch him in."
"Well, luck to him, and he can't come in
quick enough for me!" said Blackbeard.
"Why, Captain," said another man, "will ye
fight him to-morrow? "
"Ay," said the pirate; if they can get in to
me, why, I '11 try to give 'em what they seek.
As for a pilot, I tell ye what 't is. If any man
hereabouts goes out there to pilot that villain
in, 't will be the worst day's work he ever did
in all of his life. 'T won't be fit for him to live
in these parts of America if I am living here at
the same time." There was renewed laughter.
"Suppose you are done for, to-morrow, Cap-
tain," said the New York captain; "what then? "
"Why, if I am," said Blackbeard, "I am;
and that 's all there is of it."
"Your wife '11 be a rich widdy then," was
the reply.
She '11 be no richer than she is now," said
"Well, she knows where you 've hid your
money, anyways; does n't she, Captain ?"
"Nobody knows where that money is but
me," said Blackbeard; "and nobody else shall
ever know it."

(To be continued.)



BY M. B.

THE finest flower that blows
Is the lady rose;
Pink, or white, or crimson,
Everybody knows
That where her beautiful
face is seen
The rose is queen.
-And little lady Alice,
Herself so fine and fair,
Looks like a dainty fairy
With a white rose in her



I I,

But there 's a shy, wild cousin- -
The delicate sweet-brier;
She blossoms in the wilderness,
And careless folk pass by her;
Yet butterflies have found her,
And bees come buzzing round her
With covetous desire;
While little barefoot Katy
(Who never, I suppose,
Has plucked a lady rose)
Takes home a bunch of sweetness
To poor blind Annie's room, ---
That brightens all the darksome place
With sudden sense of bloom,
And fills her long and lonely hours
With happy dreams of birds and flowers.



__- ~.



NANNY has a hopeful way-
Bright and busy Nanny.
When I cracked the cup to-day,
She said in her hopeful way,
"It's only cracked-don't fret, I pray."
Sunny, cheery Nanny!

Nanny has a hopeful way,
So good and sweet and canny.
When I broke the cup to-day,

She said in her hopeful way,
"Well, 't was cracked, I 'm glad to say."
Kindly, merry Nanny!

Nanny has a hopeful way -
Quite right, little Nanny.
Cups will crack and break always;
Fretting does n't mend or pay.
Do the best you can, I say,
Busy, loving Nanny.



[Begun in the May number.]

THE policeman marched Teddy along while
he whistled a remarkably merry tune, which
the young prisoner thought out of place.
If anybody had shown sufficient curiosity
regarding him to have asked Teddy if he
had any friends in the city, his reply would
have been that he had none; but he would
have been wrong, as events proved.
Master Joseph Williams, otherwise known as
Carrots, had witnessed the affray from a dis-
tance, but was not able to take an active part
in it during the brief time it lasted, owing to
the fact of his being occupied just at that mo-
ment in blacking a customer's boots. But
when Teddy had been dragged less than a
block on the road to his "dungeon cell" by
the whistling officer, he had completed his task,
and, what was more to the purpose, received
therefore the amount of money which it was
customary to expect.
Now this boy from Saranac had no claim
upon the red-headed, blackened-nosed young
newsboy; but despite the fact that Carrots's face
was not cleanly, and that his general appear-
ance was rather disreputable, he was ever ready
to assist others.
Slinging his box over his shoulder, he ran
to the scene of the assault just in time to rescue
Teddy's stock of newspapers from beneath the
feet of a dray-horse, and followed with all speed
after the officer and prisoner.
Teddy, plunged into a very Slough of
Despond," was suffering himself to be taken
through the streets like a criminal, when he
was startled by hearing a hoarse whisper di-
rectly behind him; at the same instant his hand
was grasped by another.
Say, can't you wriggle out er that cop's fist ?"

Carrots asked. But Teddy shook his head
This is what comes of bein' brought up in
the country," the boot-black muttered to him-
self regretfully.
"Don't lose your pluck," he said aloud.
"I 'm goin' to stand by you through this thing,
'cause it 's all come out er that Skip Jellison's
gang, an' he 's forever pickin' on somebody."
"I don't know what you can do," Teddy
replied mournfully, speaking in an ordinary
tone. Then, glancing around, the policeman
noticed that his prisoner was holding a con-
versation with a seeming friend.
"Now, then, what do you want, young
chap ? the officer asked.
"Nothin' at all," said Carrots. It ain't ag'in'
the law to speak to a fellow, is it, when he 's
walking' through the streets ? "
"Is this boy a friend of yours ?"
"Bet your life he is, officer!" Carrots replied
earnestly. Why, we 're jest like twins. You
don't s'pose I 'm goin' to see him lugged away
when he ain't been doin' nothing' at all, do you?"
"If you boys who loaf near City Hall keep
on doing this 'nothing at all' business, more of
you will be arrested before a great while," the
officer said grimly. "You seem to think that
park 's made for you to fight in, but it won't
take long to show you you 're mistaken."
But this fellow was n't fighting, Carrots re-
plied in a positive tone. "I was only a little
ways off when Skip Jellison come up, hit him
a clip, an' knocked his papers out er his hands.
What kind of a duffer would he be if he had n't
tried to square things ? The only trouble is, he
did n't have a chance to do any fighting' before
that crooked-nosed park guard got hold of him.
Say, it don't seem to me jest right that a regular
policeman should help that gray thing along in
the way he 's actin'."
Why don't you come up before the com-
missioners, and give them an idea of how the


police force of the city ought to be run ?" the
officer asked sarcastically.
"Well, I would; but you see, I ain't got the
time. When a fellow's doin' sich a business ez
I am, it keeps him right down to dots," Carrots
replied gravely.
"It 's really a pity, the way you must be
rushed," the officer said, with a laugh; and,
made bold by this apparent friendliness, Car-
rots ventured to make a request.
"Say, where are you goin' to take him? "
"Down to the station-house, of course."
"Well," said Carrots, "it would n't be any
harm if I walked alongside of him, an' talked
over a little business, would it ? "
It's nothing to me, so long as you don't
help him escape."
"You need n't be afraid I would n't raise
my hand againstt you, 'cause you 're a pretty
good kind of a man; an' that sort is mighty
scarce 'round this part of the city."
"I suppose, now that I have won your good
opinion, it won't be long before I 'm a captain,
will it ? the officer asked laughingly.
"If I had my way, you 'd be a general be-
fore night; but I ain't standing' in with the com-
missioners like I ought ter be," Carrots said,
with mock gravity.
Then for they were getting dangerously
near-the station-he whispered to Teddy:
Look here, old man; you want ter keep your
upper lip mighty stiff jest now, an' I '11 get
you out er this scrape somehow. I s'pose
there '11 have to be a regular trial down to the
Tombs, and I '11 bring the fellows there to
swear you did n't do anything. We '11 show
up that Skip Jellison gang in great shape to-
morrow morning 'less I can coax you off from
this cop."
It's no use to try it," Teddy replied mourn-
fully. I reckon I '11 have to go to prison."
Now see here, that's just the way! You
fellows from the country ain't got any sand
about you, that 's what 's the matter. Don't
get down in the mouth over this thing, 'cause,
as I said before, I 'm goin' to see you through."
But what can you do against a lot of po-
licemen ?"
Wait and see. P'r'aps I have n't lived in
this city a good many years, an' don't know

how to fix things! Carrots replied, as if he
were positive how the matter might be ar-
ranged; yet at the same time he had not the
remotest idea what it would be possible to do
toward aiding this boy.
Teddy was not reassured by the remark.
Although a stranger in the city, he knew that
young Carrots would not be able to do very
much to help him, and felt sure his business
career was ruined.
How much money have you got? Carrots
Not more 'n ten cents. You see, I had jest
begun to sell papers when they nabbed me.
How much do you want ?"
I 've got enough. I was only thinking'
'bout you. Here, take this; it may come in
handy before morning' "; and the boot-black
pressed several coins into the prisoner's hand.
I don't want it," Teddy replied, as he at-
tempted in vain to return the money. "You
must n't give your cash away like this; an' be-
sides, what good will it do me ? "
"That's jest what we don't know. It's allers
better to have a little stuff in your pocket, no
matter what happens. I 've got your papers,
an' am goin' to sell 'em, so I '11 get my money
back. You jest let me run this thing, an' see
how quick we '11 have it shipshape."
There was no opportunity for further discus-
sion, for by this time the three had arrived at
the door of the station-house, and Carrots, who
had a wholesome dread of such places, made
no attempt to enter.
"I '11 see you to-night if they hold on to
you; but if the sergeant turns out to be an easy
kind of a fellow, an' lets you go, come right up
to City Hall to find me."
"I reckon there won't be any chance of his
getting on the streets this afternoon," the offi-
cer said, as he halted for a moment to give his
prisoner's friend a bit of kindly advice. He '11
have to go down to the Tombs for trial in the
morning, and if you boys can prove that he
was n't really fighting, but only trying to pre-
vent another fellow from taking his papers,
he '11 stand a good show of slipping off. I '11
see that the case is n't shoved very hard."
"You 're a dandy! Next time you want
your boots shined, come right where I am, an'



if I don't do it for nothing' it '11 be 'cause my
blackin' has run out!" Carrots cried enthusiasti-
cally; and then, wheeling suddenly, he ran at
full speed in the opposite direction.
It seems to me I 'm getting' a pretty big job
on my hands," he muttered to himself when he
was at Printing House
Square once more. I've
promised to help that
boy out er this scrape,
an' don't see how it 's
goin' to be done. The
fellows won't dare to go
up and say anything
against Skip Jellison,
'cause he's sich a terrible .
fighter: guess he can '-
get the best of anybody '--"
'round here in less 'n
three rounds. I wish I
dared to tackle him! I
don't believe he can do "
as much as he makes '-
out." Then Carrots sud-
denly bethought himself
of the papers which yet
remained under his arm,
and added, "Jiminy! I ."
'most forgot 'bout these.
It 's time they were .
worked off, or else
they '11 be too old to i _.e .
sell"; and soon he .
was crying the news
Half an hour later,
the substitute news-
boy was hailed by
Teenie Massey, who
What are you up
to now, Carrots? "'NOW, THEN, WHAT
Shifted business ? "
"Say, Teenie, was you 'round here when
Skip Jellison hit that fellow from the country? "
"Yes; an' if the cops had n't come along so
soon, Skip would have been sorry he tackled
sich a job. I believe that new fellow can
"So do I; but he did n't stand any show at

all, the way things were. These are his papers,
an' I 'm selling' 'em for him."
"Where is he now ?"
"Well, that settles him."
"I ain't so sure of it. You know, an' I know,

* -



an' all the rest of the fellows know, that Skip
Jellison did n't have any business to run 'round
punchin' him just 'cause he was a new hand.
I 'm goin' to see if there ain't some chance of
getting' him clear."
What '11 you do ? Break into the station-
house, an' pull him out?" Teenie asked ex-



citedly, believing any of his friends capable
of doing such a thing, because of the style of
reading in which he indulged, wherein such
deeds are often performed, in print, by the
smallest and most feeble boys.
"Well, I don't count on doin' quite so well

as that," Carrots replied, thoughtfully rubbing
his nose once more, and thereby adding to the
smudge of blacking which already nearly cov-
ered his face. "I kind er 'lowed we 'd get a
lot of the fellows, an' go down to court ter-
morrow morning' when he's brought up, so 's to
tell the story jest as it is. The judge is bound

to let him off then, an' I would n't be s'prised
if Skip Jellison found hisself in a scrape."
Teenie shook his head very decidedly.
Don't think it can be done, eh ? "
"Who 're you goin' to get to tell that yam in
court? Skip would about knock the head off
er the fellow
that did him
that turn "
I know
that. He is
terrible! He's
jest terrible!"
Carrots re-
plied reflec-
tively. "But I
don't see why
it is the fel-
lows 'round
here let Skip
jump on 'em
so! If three
or four of us
turned to, we
could thump
him, and do
it easy; and
yet all hands
lie down like
lambs when-
ever he hap-
pens to want
to wink."
"Why don't
you give him
a pounding?"
You see,
I can't do it
alone. I 'd
be willing' to
go in if any-
body 'd start
ESIDENCE. (SEE PAGE 668.) in with me,
'cause it 's got pretty nigh time something' was
done, or else that fellow '11 own the whole
town. Say, will you go down to court with
me, an' tell what you know 'bout this thing? "
Teenie gazed at his toes several seconds be-
fore replying, and then said:
"I don't know whether I '11 have time, Car-



rots; but I '11 see you to-night, an' let you
Carrots muttered to himself as his acquain-
tance was lost to view among the crowd of busy
That fellow 's pretty nigh scared out er his
life 'bout Skip. There ain't any use thinking'
he 'll help in this trouble."
Half an hour later, when Carrots had dis-
posed of the stock of papers purchased by
Teddy, and was congratulating himself, Skip
Jellison approached, looking very fierce as he
asked in a threatening tone:
"See here, Carrots, what is it you are up
to now?"
Me? Carrots replied, in surprise. Why,
I 'm shining' boots same's ever."
Now don't try to be too smart You know
what I mean."'
"Well, if I do I 'm a duffer. What are you
driving' at, Skip, anyhow ?"
Ain't you been tellin' what you was goin' to
do to help that fellow from the country that I
settled this forenoon ? "
Did n't strike me as if you settled him very
much. If he 'd had half a chance, he 'd 'a'
settled you."
You 've got to be took down a peg or two,"
Skip said threateningly, as he doubled his fist
and brandished it before Carrots's face.
"Want ter git another fellow 'rested, do you ?
Well, I ain't goin' to fight."
You 'd better not, if you know what's good
for yourself."
I won't scrap 'cause I don't want ter git
jailed; but you can't frighten me, no matter
how bad you jump 'round."
"Look out for yourself, that 's all I 'm say-
in'," Master Jellison replied angrily. "I 'm
watching' you, an' the very first time you go to
meddlin' with that fellow from the country,
what 's got to be drove out this city, I '11
make you sorry for it!"
"It 's very polite o' you to give me a
friendly warning, Carrots replied, in the most
innocent and pleasant tone.
Skip had nothing more to say, but walked
away with a dignity befitting one who con-
siders it his mission in life to regulate the busi-
ness affairs of a large city.
VOL. XXII.--84.

ALTHOUGH Carrots had pretended that Skip's
threats neither frightened nor disturbed him, he
was thoroughly uncomfortable in mind.
He knew by past experience what Master
Jellison could and would do, with no provoca-
tion whatever save only a desire to exercise
that authority which he had assumed.
Carrots believed, however, that in case of
an encounter with a boy. who was ready and
forced to defend himself, Skip would not prove
so great a master of the "manly art of self-
defense" as he claimed to be.
But such a champion had not as yet been
Teenie Massey had chanced to be in Brook-
lyn about a week before the arrival of Teddy
in the city, and upon his return home he had
stated that he had seen Master Jellison attack
a boy not nearly so large as himself, on Pine-
apple Street in that city, and receive a sound
He was n't in it at all, from the time they
begun," Teenie had stated to his friends; and
on more than one occasion he had referred to
this defeat in the presence of Skip himself.
It is but fair to say, however, that Skip
Jellison positively denied the truth of any such
statement. In explanation of the blackened
eye and badly swollen lip he brought from
Brooklyn, he announced that he had been set
upon by a crowd of young ruffians.
Of course a fellow 's going' to get some clips
when he tackles a dozen or fifteen fellows at
once," Skip explained to an admiring audi-
ence, shortly after Master Massey's story had
been noised about the streets; "but every one
of 'em got it worse 'n I did, an' it was n't
more 'n five minutes before all hands were run-
nin' lickertysplit up Fulton Street. I reckon
they did n't stop till they got to Prospect Park.
Teenie wants to make out a good story; but
it 's all a whopper, an' he knows it."
Now, although Carrots believed that Master
Massey had told the truth in regard to what
really occurred in Brooklyn, Carrots did not
feel competent to take upon himself the task
of cowing the bully; and he felt reasonably



certain Skip would carry his threats into effect
should occasion arise.
Carrots was also quite positive the occasion
would arise, because he did not intend to de-
sert Teddy.
"I 'm goin' right ahead with what I 'greed
to do," he said to himself. If Skip wants to
thump me for it, I s'pose I '11 have to let him."
These reflections were interrupted by Reddy
Jackson, who asked as he approached and
halted in front of Carrots:
"Seen Skip lately ? "
"He jest werit away. Been 'round, kind er
reg'latin' the town. Goin' to rest hisself, 'cause
he 's 'most played out working' so hard."
"Did he tell you anything? "
"Yes; thought I was rather meddlin' with
his business: but I don't see how that is."
"Now look here, Carrots; I 'm a friend of
yours, an' don't want ter see any trouble come
out er this thing. Skip 's jest wild 'bout what
you've told the other fellows, an' I reckon he '11
do as he says if you try to help that fellow
what got 'rested."
"You 'lowed you was a friend of mine,
did n't you, Reddy?"
"That 's what I said."
"Well, then, why don't you show it by helping'
me stand up againstt sich a bully as Skip Jelli-
son is, 'stead of coming' here and tellin' me
what he 's goin' to do ? To hear some of you
fellows talk, anybody 'd think he was a regular
rhinoceros huntin' 'round to eat folks, Now
it's jest like this: I 've got to help that fellow,
'cause I promised him."
"But you don't even know who he is."
"I did n't ask him to write out a history
'bout hisself, an' swear to it, so 's I could tell
you fellows; but he 's like all the rest of us, got
to hustle for a livin', an' has come down here
to do it. Now what business is that of Skip
Jellison's? He does n't own this town-ain't
even got a mortgage on it-yet he makes out
this fellow can't stay, an' tries to lick him.
Now I s'pose you think it 's mighty smart to
try an' shove that country fellow down ? "
"You don't know anything about it, Car-
rots. He put on more frills this morning' than
you ever saw in a circus procession. We ain't
goin' to stand that; of course not."

"I s'pose it broke your heart 'cause his face
was clean, did n't it ?" And it was apparent from
Carrots's tone that he was losing his temper.
Oh, well, go ahead, an' see how you '11
come out, that 's all. I jest thought I 'd tell
you, so 's you would n't get into a fuss with
Skip; but if this is the way you 're goin' on,
why, let her flicker, for all I care."
"I 'm much obliged to you for bein' so
willing ; an' when I want another favor I '11 call
'round an' see you," Carrots replied, as he turned
on his heel, while Reddy walked rapidly away.
"It looks as if I 'd got to put this thing
through alone," Carrots said to himself; "an'
if that 's so, it '11 be a good idea for me to keep
away from where Skip is, 'cause if he should
get a whack at me, I 'm afraid I would n't be
in a condition to do much of anything for a
day or two."
Carrots visited all of his acquaintances in
whom he felt he could confide, trying to
enlist their sympathies in the work which he
had undertaken.
Unfortunately for his purpose, however, he
did not find any who were willing, simply be-
cause of the stranger, to brave the doughty
Skip's wrath; and nearly every one advised Car-
rots to give it up before he got into trouble."
Not until nearly nightfall was the well-dis-
posed boot-black willing to cease his efforts in
this particular direction.
Then he repaired to a certain restaurant on
Baxter street, where he appeared to be well
acquainted with the waiters, and called for
a hearty meal of corned beef and potatoes,
at the expense of fifteen cents an unusual
amount for him, as could have been told by
the remark which the waiter made.
"Ain't you spreadin' yourself some to-night,
"Well, it does look a little that way; but,
you see, I 've got a lot of business on hand,
and I need to be braced up a bit."
"Bought out some other boot-black, or
found a bigger line of customers?"
"Well, no; I 'm buyin' stocks now. The
Wall Street men are kind er 'fraid I 'll down
'em, an' they 're making' me hustle."
"Oh!-gone into the Stock Exchange, eh?"
"Well, I have n't been any further than the



gallery yet; but that's all right. You don't want
ter put in a piece of pie with this corned beef,
an' take the chance of a rise in Western Union
for the pay, do you? "
No, I guess not. It would be too much
like speculation. '
Well, I did n't s'pose you would; but I 'm
coming' 'round here in the morning' to give your
boss some points about running his business,"
Carrots replied; and, handing over his money,
he walked with a majestic air into the street.
Having thus refreshed the inner man, Carrots
bent his way in the direction of the station-house.
It was his intention to ask for an interview
with the prisoner who had been arrested in
City Hall Park, and he felt extremely doubtful
whether this request would be granted, until
he entered the building and recognized in the
sergeant behind the desk an old customer.
His surprise at meeting a friend, when he
had expected to see the stern visage of a
mere servant of justice, was quite as great as it
was pleasing; and he marched up to the desk
and said familiarly:
"If I 'd knowed you was here, I 'd 'a' come
"I don't want my boots shined now. See
you outside in the morning," said the sergeant.
But I ain't shinin'; I 'm on business."
"Oh, you are, eh? Well, what 's up?"
One of the pleecemen 'round City Hall
arrested a fellow this morning' what had jest
walked down from Saranac; an' it 's all wrong,
I tell you,- all wrong."
He 's a friend of yours, I suppose ?"
"Well, you can't exactly call him that. I
never spoke to him till jest before this thing
happened. I want ter git him right out, on
'portant business."
"I 'm afraid you will have to wait a little
while, and explain the whole affair to the judge
in the morning. I have n't any'authority to
do a thing like that."
Could n't you fix it with the judge ? "
No, indeed," the officer replied laughingly.
"The best way is for you to go to the court your-
self, and explain how it happened, unless he is
really guilty, in which case I suppose he will
have to go to the Island. I fancy a week up
there would n't do him any harm."

"But, you see, it was jest this way "- and
Carrots assumed an attitude such as one takes
when about to begin a long story.
"Never mind it now. I can't stop to lis-
ten; and, besides, it would n't do any good."
Carrots looked up as if surprised that an old
friend should assume a dictatorial tone, and
then, suddenly remembering that he had an-
other favor to ask, added:
Well, you can let me see him, can't you ?"
S"What good will that do?"
"Why, I jest want to brace him up a little.
You see, he 's pretty green, an' he must be
feeling' awful bad by this time. I won't stay
more 'n five minutes, if you '11 let me see him."
"All right; go down-stairs. You '11 find
him in one of the cells; and if the turnkey says
anything, tell him I sent you."
Carrots did not wait for further instructions;
but, fearful lest the permission should be with-
drawn, hurried down the stairs at once, and
was making a tour of the cells with the pur-
pose of finding his friend, when the 'officer in
charge stopped him.
"What do you want here ? "
"The sergeant sent me down to see a friend
of mine, that's all; an' I 'm looking' for him."
The boy they brought in this noon ? "
"That 's the very one."
"He 's over there; third cell from the end."
Carrots walked quickly to the place looked
in through the grated door, and saw Teddy
lying on a wooden bench, which served the
double purpose of a seat and a bed. The
young prisoner's face was covered by his hands.
Come, old man," Carrots said soothingly,
"you ought ter have more sand than to give up
like this. Besides, ain't I here to help you ? "
Teddy leaped to his feet immediately, and
came to the door, through which Carrots thrust
a very grimy hand as he said:
"Shake hands!. Brace up, an' have some
style about you! I 've been 'tendin' to your
business pretty nigh ever since you was gone,
an' thought I 'd jest run in to let you know
everything will be all right; but you 'll have
to stay here till morning. "
"Till momin' ? Teddy repeated in dismay.
Yes; that ain't sich a very long while, an'
it '11 take me till then to get things fixed."


How did they happen to let you in ? "
Oh, you see, the sergeant is an old friend of
mine. I 've blacked his boots, on an' off, for
'most a year."
Then Carrots, with the hope of cheering his
friend, began to explain what might be done to-
ward effecting the prisoner's release; and when
it was time to bring the interview to a close,
he had so far succeeded that Teddy was really
quite hopeful, believing there was no serious
obstacle in the way of his freedom.
Bidding Teddy adieu, Carrots left the station-
It was now so nearly dark that Carrots turned
in the direction of his own home, for the pur-
pose of gaining as much rest as possible before
beginning what looked like a hard piece of work.
Now Carrots was a householder in his own
right, or at least by right of discovery.
More than one of his acquaintances had been
eager to know where he lived; but he avoided
all questions on the subject, save to one person
-Teenie Massey.
In addition to his being a trusted friend,
Teenie lived with his parents; therefore, when
Carrots revealed, the secret, it was with the
knowledge that Master Massey would not wish
to share the dwelling with him.
To avoid interference, Carrots always ap-
proached his home in the most cautious man-
ner, and this occasion was no exception.
He walked leisurely along in the direction of
Canal Street, as if going nowhere in particular,
for the purpose of misleading any friends whom
he might meet; and, on arriving at an alleyway
which ran between two shops, he halted for an
instant to make sure the coast was clear.
He recognized no one in the immediate vi-
cinity, and, wheeling sharply around, ran swiftly
up the narrow passage, climbed over a board
fence, and dropped lightly into a yard in the
rear of a business establishment.
Here was an enormous collection of packing-
cases, some stacked in regular order, and others
lying carelessly around wherever they might
have chanced to fall when taken from the shop
by the employees. To Carrots, however, the
yard was as familiar as any of the city streets.
He knew exactly where each case should be,
unless, perchance, there had been some addi-

tion made to the collection since his departure
from home; and, although it was dark, pro-
ceeded without difficulty until he arrived at one
corner of the yard, where, by pulling out an
unusually large box, he disclosed a narrow pas-
sage running along the side of the fence.
It was not possible to walk upright through
this opening, owing to the lumber above; but,
once Master Carrots arrived at the further end,
he found as snug and comfortable a dwelling
as it would be reasonable for any boy in Mas-
ter Carrots's walk of life to desire.
Two cases, facing each other at an interval
sufficiently wide for a small person to enter,
formed an apartment four or five feet square;
and, although it was impossible for Carrots
even to stand erect, he could sit or lie down
in a most comfortable fashion.
A small bundle of straw, taken from some
of the other cases, made a bed for the boot-
black; and directly opposite this impromptu
couch were Carrots's household treasures.
A bottle which served as a candlestick, a
cigar-box as pantry in case he chanced to lay
in a stock of provisions, a well-worn brush, sev-
eral empty blacking-boxes, and a miscellaneous
collection of odds and ends, were packed in
one corner with the utmost neatness.
On arriving at his home, Carrots lighted the
candle in order to render the apartment more
cheerful; and then he sat down with his chin in
his hands, trying to decide how it would be
possible to keep the promise made to Teddy.
Before he had succeeded in solving the prob-
lem, however, a shrill whistle was heard from
the alleyway, and Carrots muttered to himself
as he crawled through the passage out from
among the boxes:
"I wonder what Teenie Massey wants ? A
fellow that's got so much business on his hands
as I have can't 'ford to waste a great deal of
time with visitors."
"Hi! Carrots, are you there ?" Teenie asked.
"Of course I am! Where do you s'pose a
fellow would be at this time of night?"
"I 'm coming' over! "
"Well, come, then; an' don't make so much
noise about it. Nobody knows who may be
'round here"; and Master Carrots retraced his
steps to the packing-case dwelling.

(To be continued.)



his is the way we study hard,
IStudy hard, study hard,
This is the way we study hard
When our vacation's nearing,

S3 T.hinking of, thihl
1IT these are The things W
/ When our vacation

Y --

4t ^ 3



Once upon a time a cat
Might be a princess then,
And thistles growing in the field
Could turn to armid men.
They dared not stoop to pluck a flower,
When walking in the wood,
For fear, in taking it, they 'd rob
Some fairy of her hood.

Once upon a time-a bean
Could grow so high and far,
That when they clambered up the vine
'T would lead them to a star.
And when they planted apple-trees,-
You need not to be told -
Why, just as likely then as not,
The fruit would be of gold.



OVER the hills from far away
He comes at closing of the day
To shut the children's eyes;
And his hair is gold with sunset light,
And his voice is soft as dreams at night,
And he gathers lullabies.

One he takes from the bumblebee,
Singing, humming drowsily;
And the robin gives him one;

And down beneath the grasses hid
He robs the little katydid,
And leaves her there alone.

Then over all the sunset lands
He scatters down his golden sands
And spreads his soft, gray wings;
And every little sleepy head
Goes nid-nid-nodding off to bed,
Because the sandman sings.



OVER the hills from far away
He comes at closing of the day
To shut the children's eyes;
And his hair is gold with sunset light,
And his voice is soft as dreams at night,
And he gathers lullabies.

One he takes from the bumblebee,
Singing, humming drowsily;
And the robin gives him one;

And down beneath the grasses hid
He robs the little katydid,
And leaves her there alone.

Then over all the sunset lands
He scatters down his golden sands
And spreads his soft, gray wings;
And every little sleepy head
Goes nid-nid-nodding off to bed,
Because the sandman sings.


FREDERICKSBURG had had her fray,
And the armies stood at bay;
Back of wall, and top of hill,
Union men and men in gray
Glowered at each other still.
In the space between the two
Many a hapless boy in blue
Lay face upward to the skies;
Many another, just as true,
Filled the air with frantic cries.

S"Love of God! with pity stirred,
Cried a rebel lad who heard.
"This is more than I can bear!
General, only say the word,
They shall have some water there."
"What's the use ?" his general,
Frowning, asked. "A Yankee ball
Drops you dead, or worse, half way,
Once you go beyond the wall."
"May be!" said the boy in gray.
"Still I '11 risk it, if you please."
And the senior, ill at ease,
Nodded, growling under breath,
"For his mortal enemies
I have sent the lad to death."
Then a hotter fire began
As across the field he ran,-
Yankee shooters marked a prey,-
But beside each wounded man
Heedless knelt the boy in gray.
Parched lips hailed him as he came;
Throats with fever all aflame,
While the balls were spinning by,
Drained the cup he offered them,
Blessed him with their dying cry.







Suddenly, through rain of those
Pattering shots, a shout uprose;
Din of voices filled his ears;
Firing ceased, and eager foes
Made the welkin ring with cheers.

Foes they were, of bitter need,
Still to every noble deed
Hearts of men, thank God, must thrill;
And we thrill, too, as we read
Of those cheers on Marye's Hill.

Days of battle long since done,
Days of peace and blessing won,
Better is it to forget
Cruel work of sword and gun:
But some deeds are treasures yet.

While a grateful nation showers
Graves of heroes with her flowers,
Here 's a wreath for one to-day:
North or South, we claim him ours-
Honor to the Boy in Gray!

Mary Bradley.


(Fifteenth haper of the series on North American Quadrufeds.)



IN a wild state, the AMERICAN BISON, or
BUFFALO, is practically, though not quite
wholly, extinct.
AMERICAN BISON, or BUFFALO. wholly, extinct.
At the present
(Bi'son A-,-er-i-can'us.) moment there
are about two hundred wild Buffaloes alive
and on foot in the United States. To obtain
these high figures we include the one hundred
and fifty individuals that the white head-hunt-
ers and red meat-hunters have thus far left
alive in the Yellowstone Park, where the buffa-
loes are fondly supposed to be protected from
slaughter. Besides these, there are only two
other bunches: one of about twenty head in
Lost Park, Colorado, protected by State laws;
and another, containing between thirty and
forty head, in Val Verde County, Texas, be-
tween Devil's River and the Rio Grande.

Four years ago there were over three hun-
dred head in the Yellowstone Park, thriving
and increasing quite satisfactorily. Through
them we fondly hoped the species would even
yet be saved from absolute extinction. But,
alas we were reckoning without the poachers.
Congress provides pay for just one solitary
scout to guard in winter 3575 square miles of
rugged mountain country against the horde of
lawless white men and Indians who surround
the park on all sides, eager to kill the last Buf-
falo The poachers have been hard at work,
and as a result our park herd has recently de-
creased more than one half in number. It is a
brutal, burning shame that formerly, through
lack of congressional law adequately to punish
such poachers as the wretch who was actually
caught red-handed in January, 1894, while skin-
ning seven dead buffaloes! and now, through
lack of a paltry $1800 a year to pay four more
scouts, the park Buffaloes are all doomed to cer-
lain and speedy destruction.
Besides the places mentioned, there is only
one other spot in all North America that con-
tains wild Buffaloes.
Immediately southwestward of Great Slave
Lake there lies a vast wilderness of swamps
and stunted pines, into which no white man has
ever penetrated far, and where the red man still
reigns supreme. It is bounded on the north
by the Liard- arid Mackenzie Rivers, on the
east by the Slave River, on the south by the
Peace River; and on the west by the Rocky
Mountains. Mr. Warburton Pike says it is now
the greatest beaver country in the world, and
that it also contains a few bands of the so-
called Wood Buffalo. "Sometimes they are
heard of at Forts Smith and Vermillion, some-
times at Fort St. John, on the Peace River, and
occasionally at Fort Nelson, on the Liard;



but it is impossible to say anything about their
numbers." At all events, in February, 1890,
Mr. Pike found eight Buffaloes only four days'
travel from Fort Resolution, on Great Slave
Lake, and succeeded in killing one. The Ca-
nadian authorities estimate the total number in
that region at three hundred.
The story of the senseless, wasteful, and
wicked butchery of the buffalo millions has
been told many times already, and it is not
necessary to repeat it here. The frenzied war
of extermination began in the fall of 1871, and
in four years the great herd south of the Union
Pacific Railway was completely blotted out.
In 1880 the building of the Northern Pacific
Railway made the northern lAd equally acces-
sible at all points; and in October, 1883, the
last thousand head were utterly annihilated, in
southwestern 'Dakota, by Sitting Bull and a
band of about one thou-
sand braves from the ,
Standing Rock Agency. 0t
Two small bands, one
containing about two
hundred head and the
other seventy-five, es-
caped into the bad lands '5
of the Missouri River,
in central Montana,
where a few individuals i
survived until 1887. An- [
other band took refuge ."
in the fastnesses of the 1a .1; '*
Yellowstone Park,where 2 -
a few survivors still are; "
or were at last accounts. I
The accompanying i
map is designed to tell '
in the smallest limit of
space the story of the ('
practical extermination .
of the American Bison.
Notice the vast extent
and varied character of
the territory once inhabited by this lord of the
plains. Not only did he inhabit the prairies of
the West, but also the hilly hard-wood forests
of the southeastern States, the burning plains
of northern Mexico, the Great American
Desert," the Rocky Mountains to an elevation

of 8000 feet, and the bleak and inhospitable
plains of Canada, up even to the land of the
musk-ox. From north to south his range
measured 3600 miles, and from east to west
2100, or about one third of the entire continent
of North America.
In 1869 the completion of the Union Pacific
Railway forever divided the great universal
herd into two portions a "southern herd,"
containing between three and four million Buf-
faloes, and a northern herd," of about a mil-
lion and a half. It is probable that never since
the world was made has man seen another
such mighty host of wild animals as those of
our Bison only twenty-three years ago. In
swimming rivers, they stopped boats for hours
at a time; and on land they frequently stopped
railway trains, and even derailed locomotives
that tried to plow a way through their ranks.

I. IBoundary of the area once
-inhabited by the American
Im Range of the two great herds in
Range of the northern herd in
uwn Range of the scattered survivors
of the southern herd in 1875, after
the great slaughter of 1870-1873.
.. .. Range of the northern herd in
St884, after the great slaughter of
SHeavy figures represent the o-
callty and number of wild Bison
in existence January Ist, 1895.
Where the herds assembled, they covered the
earth as with a black mantle. I venture to
say that no man ever saw in one day a greater
panorama of animal life than did Colonel R.
I. Dodge in May, 1871, when he drove for
twenty-five miles along the Arkansas River


through an unbroken herd of Buffaloes. On
that memorable day he actually saw, according
to careful computation, nearly half a million
Buffaloes. It was the great southern herd
moving slowly forward on its annual migration

that is the MUSK-Ox. He is under the pro-
tection of the Frost King,
(o'i-bos ,os-cd'ts.) seldom penetrated by white
poachers. On the map of Arctic America you
can put your finger down almost anywhere, so


To-day you may travel across the continent
as you choose, by rail or by wagon, without
seeing either a live Buffalo, a stuffed head, or
even a buffalo bone. It was the long-range
breech-loading rifle and the murderous still-
hunt that did it, backed by man's inborn greed
and destructiveness. It is our way to grind to
powder everything that is not protected by a
policeman and a club. May Heaven send to
the boys of the rising generation more sense
and more humanity in the preservation of our
Sbeasts and birds than we have yet shown; and
the girls should stop wearing dead birds, and
birds' wings, right now /
But there is one large bovine animal on our
continent which is not destined to be snuffed
out of existence like the unfortunate Bison, and

that it be on land north of the Great Slave
Lake and east of the Mackenzie River, and
say, "There lives the Musk-Ox," without fear
of successful contradiction.
Just beyond the limit of trees and bushes,
even the smallest and scantiest, on the silent,
desolate, and awful Barren Grounds northeast
of Great Slave Lake, at 640 north latitude,
the Musk-Ox draws the line marking his far-
thest south.
A man who can endure cold like an Eskimo,
travel like a caribou, live for weeks on frozen
caribou meat, starve as cheerfully as a Yellow-
Knife Indian, and endure the companionship
of vermin-covered natives, can reach the south-
ern border-land of the Musk-Ox, and possibly
get back alive with two or three skins. Mr.


Warburton Pike, Englishman, can do, and did
do all those things no longer ago than 1890;
and his book on "The Barren Grounds of
Northern Canada" is a most interesting and
valuable contribution to our knowledge of that
very desolate country.
The Musk-Ox is perhaps the rarest, and to
white men the most difficult to secure, of all our
land quadrupeds. Robes are by no means un-
common, and often sell for as little as $15
each; but of mounted skins there are in our
country exactly seven. Three of these consti-
tute a group in the National Museum; two are
at the American Museum of Natural History in
New York; and the museums of Philadelphia
and Cambridge have one each. Although
during their long sojourn in high latitudes
General Greely and the members of his expe-
dition party killed many Musk-Oxen, you will
notice that they were unable to bring back
even so much as a single horn.

high by six and a half long, supported upon wide
hoofs and very short, thick legs, almost hidden
by the body hair. There is also a blunt and
hairy muzzle, a pair of eyes, a pair of broad,
flattened horns that part like a woman's hair
and drop far downward before they curve up-
ward,- and that is all. The mass of hair is so
thick that as the robe lies on the floor it is
about as easy to walk over as a feather bed.
Over the loins you will find, if you look closely,
a broad "saddle-mark" of dirty-white hair,
shorter than the rest of the coat.
Next to the body is a matted mass of very
fine and soft hair, like.clean wool, so dense that
to snow and fog it is quite impenetrable. Over
this lies a thick coat of very long, straight hair,
often twelve inches in length and sometimes
twenty, like the grass rain-coat of a Japanese
soldier. Sometimes it actually touches the
snow as the animal walks. In all pictures,
and in all mounted specimens I know of save

The appearance of the Musk-Ox is so odd one mounted by Mr. John Fannin, the head is
and striking that when once seen it is. seldom placed below the line of the back; but in de-
forgotten. You see an oblong mass of tremen- scribing the gait and appearance of the first
dously long brown hair, four and a half feet Musk-Ox he saw alive on its native heath, Mr.



Pike declares that the shaggy head was car-
ried high."
Although that doughty gentleman took part
in the killing of about fifty
Musk-Oxen, which he says were
"slaughtered without any more
trouble than killing cattle in a
yard," there was no opportunity
to weigh any of them. General
Greely, however, had better fa-
cilities. When he and his party
landed at Lady Franklin Bay in
August, 1881, they were wel-
comed by a herd of Musk-Oxen,
and during the first ten days of
their stay sixteen head were c
killed. Think of it! Fresh beef
in abundance at north latitude
810 40'! During the two years
of the stay of General Greely's
party at Fort Conger, they found
Grinnell Land abundantly sup- .-
plied with Musk-Oxen. From
first to last they killed one hun-
dred and six head, the flesh of
which supplied them abundantly
during almost their entire stay;

and they caught four Musk-Calves alive. The
latter were kept in captivity about four months,
but finally died.
In the large natural-history collection made
then by Lieutenant Lockwood there are now
three skins of Musk-Oxen, boxed securely, and
even at this moment waiting patiently amid
the arctic snows and frosts at abandoned Fort
Conger, "to be called for."
Of other far north regions, the Musk-Ox in-
habits northern Greenland, and has also been
taken on the eastern coast. General Greely
says that "not far from two hundred Musk-
Oxen are now inhabitants of Grinnell Land,
fed by abundant vegetation. Willow, saxifrage,
dryas, and grasses form winter as well as sum-
mer food. I found large beds of willow that
had been fed on during April, the Musk-Oxen
having broken the crust and scraped off the
snow to reach it." Contrary to many published
statements, General Greely found no evidence
that this animal ever eats lichens.
In actual bulk I think the Musk-Ox must
be about equal to our elk, though of course
the latter is very much taller. General Greely
states that the average for ten Musk-Oxen



killed in the autumn of 1882 was three hundred
and sixty pounds of dressed meat, while the
largest of all weighed "about twelve hundred
gross, and dressed four hundred and thirty-two
At last we have reached that gallant fellow,
cliff-dweller is he. Born un-
MOUNTAIN SHEEP, der the shelving rocks of a
beetling cliff, sometimes ac-
(o is ion-ttana.) tually cradled in the snow,
and reared in the stormy atmosphere of high
altitudes, he is a typical mountaineer. Wherever

spread like a relief-map three thousand feet be-
fore him, is his delight. In former times he was
venturesome, and often wandered miles away
from his mountain home to explore tempting
tracts of bad lands; and, being unmolested, he
sometimes took up a permanent residence in
such places. But the venturesome' inhabitants
of low, isolated mountains and shelterless bad
lands have paid with their lives for their pio-
neering, and now a Mountain Sheep is rarely
found elsewhere than amid mountains worthy
of the name.
Kill one fine old mountain ram by your own


efforts in climbing and stalking, and we will
call you a sportsman, with a capital S,-pro-
vided you save his head for mounting, and his
flesh for the platter. But no ewes, mind you!
Ewes and lambs count against you, rather than
to your credit. Can I ever forget how I once

you find him at home, depend upon it that you
will also find the finest scenery of the district.
This animal loves a bird's-eye view of a
mountain landscape as well as does any mem-
ber of the Geological Survey. A steep descent,
with a narrow, level valley and a thread-like river


traveled all the way from Washington to Wy-
oming, killed just one superb mountain ram
amidst grand scenery, preserved him, carried
his "saddle" to Washington, and called my
pleasure-trip a complete success ? Hardly.
Even the recollection of it is worth four times
the money it cost.

That particular Mountain Sheep stood four
feet three inches in height at the shoulders.
He was four feet ten inches in length of head
and body, and his girth was three feet eight
inches. He leaped off a low ridge of bare rock,
fell dead on a foot of snow in the head of a
rock-walled gulch, and oh! boys, how fine he
was! Up in the mountain park he had been
pawing through the snow to get at the spears
of dry grass that were there obtainable; and in

spite of the difficulty of the process, and the
pitiful scantiness of the grazing, I was aston-
ished beyond measure at finding that his stom-
ach contained fully half a bushel of that same
grass. He was not only in good flesh, but
positively fat; and from the fact that to save
our lives Fleming, the packer, and I, both mus-

cular men, could not lift him upon a mule to
carry him to our camp, and for other reasons,
I am certain that he weighed at least three
hundred pounds.
Formerly the Mountain Sheep inhabited
practically all the wild mountain-ranges of the
West, from central Arizona to the Arctic Circle.
In the northern half of this vast range it still
exists abundantly; but in the United States this
much-prized animal has been so persistently


hunted and shot that now it is found in a few
localities only, and those are very hard to
reach. As late as 1886 a few daring pioneers
wandered eastward through the bad lands of
the Missouri River as far as the Sheep Moun-
tains; and, stranger still, even to-day several
small bands find safe refuge along the rocky
walls of the Grand Canon of the Colorado, where
they have depth instead of height to protect
them. Like the inhabitants of a volcanic isl-
and in an inhospitable sea, a band was found
by Dr. Merriam on San Francisco Mountain,
northern Arizona, which rises out of the heat
and desolation of the Painted Desert.
There are Mountain Sheep in Colorado, Wy-
oming, the Yellowstone Park, Montana, Idaho,
Washington, and Oregon. Possibly a few still
remain in northeastern California; but from
Mount Shasta, where they were once so numer-
ous, they are gone forever, and only a few
bleaching skeletons remain.
No; the Mountain Sheep does not leap from
great heights, and land either upon his horns or
his feet. He knows the strength of his mate-
rials too tell to try it. His horns and skull
might successfully withstand the shock, but the
weight of his body would break his spinal col-
umn in two or three places, to say the least of
it. It is true that when hard pressed a herd
will sometimes plunge down a terribly steep in-
cline, sliding and bounding from point to point,
until they plow into the "slide-rock" below;
but as to leaping over a sheer precipice, I never
saw any one who even claimed to have ever
witnessed such a thing. The old rams often
fight by butting each other terrifically, and
often splinter, or sometimes break off, the ends
of their horns in that way.
The Mountain Sheep is a brave and hardy
animal, strong-limbed, sure-footed, keen of eye
and of ear. The lambs are born in May, long
before the snow is off the mountains, and some
have been known to-follow.their dams over the
snow-fields before they were twenty-four hours
old. But the mountain lambkin has many ene-
mies. The golden eagle, the coyote, the puma,
and in some localities the wolverine, are all
lovers of mutton, and ever on the alert for an
unprotected lamb or a wounded sheep. While
I was engaged in skinning the ram already
VOL. XXII.-86.

mentioned, Lieutenant Robertson shot three
ewes out of a large flock of ewes and lambs
that were feeding on a hillside. Before we
could get to them the next morning, to skin
and dress them, all three were badly torn on
their shoulders and necks by the pestiferous
golden eagles, which had evidently kept a hun-
gry eye on tour movements.
In my estimation, the pursuit of the Moun-
tain Sheep is the highest type of hunting our
continent affords. To "collect" an old ram
requires good lungs, good legs, good judgment,
and good shooting. In the doing of it you are
bound to rise in the world, to expand mentally,
morally, and physically, and to come under the
spell that Nature always lays upon the hunter
who once sets foot upon her crags and peaks.
I regret the disappearance of the Mountain
Sheep even more than the passing of the buf-
falo and elk, for it is an animal of finer mold
and stronger and more interesting character
every way. It is much more alert than the
mountain goat, and therefore more difficult to
shoot,-so say the men who have hunted both.
Until quite recently, the ROCKY MOUNTAIN
been as little known
ROCKY MOUNTAIN GOAT. and as seldom seen
(Ma-zdrma inon-iaan'a.)
(M a-ta'a.) in museums as the
musk-ox. Now, however, thanks to the moun-
taineering editor of Forest and Stream, Mr.
George Bird Grinnell, and his untiring industry
in the pursuit of this odd creature, both our
knowledge of it and our stock of museum speci-
mens have been very greatly increased. All
visitors to the World's Fair who saw in the
Kansas Building the grand series of groups of
large mammals collected and mounted for the
University of Kansas by Professor L. L. Dyche,
will remember that the group of Mountain
Goats was the most striking and conspicuous
of them all. Another fine group was shown
by the National Museum in the Government
The Mountain Goat is a creature of contra-
ries. Though he spends almost his whole life
either in climbing or in edging along rock
ledges so narrow and so high that they would
almost make an eagle dizzy, he is neither long-
legged and high-headed like the mountain


sheep, nor lightly built like the chamois. He
has a short, thick-set body, short and stocky legs,
a short neck, and his head hangs low, like that
of a buffalo. Indeed, if you but change his
horns, and dye him dark brown, you will have
a very good pygmy buffalo, and by no means
the kind of a creature that you or I would nat-
urally construct to climb precipices all its life.
In no one feature save his hoofs does he seem
built for climbing; but he gets there, just the
Although his home is decidedly higher than
that of the mountain sheep, and he frequents
the tops of the highest mountains he can find,
yet in western British Columbia he often de-
scends in winter to the very shores of the sea
and its inlets; and, ridiculous as it may seem,
many a Mountain Goat has been shot from a
canoe! East of the Rockies, this strange crea-
ture has on several occasions been seen in
Montana, far from the foothills, and well into
the prairie country bordering the Missouri
River. But those observations were made a
number of years ago.
The Mountain Goat is clad after the style of
the musk-ox, save as to color,- a very dense
coat of fine wool next the skin, covered with a
thick outside thatch of coarse hair. Both coats
are yellowish-white, and there is not a colored
hair in either of them. The two together are
quite impervious to moisture and rain, and the
Goat loves just what nearly all other living
creatures abhor,- altitudes where the moisture
is great and the cold intense. Like the musk-
ox, this creature knows nothing of intense cold
save by hearsay, and even in winter he prefers
to lie in the shade !
Says Mr. Grinnell:
Often when hunting in the Rocky Moun-
tains in bitter cold weather, when the ice would
collect rapidly on the face and beard, and only
heavy clothing and the constant and violent
exercise of climbing the mountains protected us
from severe suffering from the cold, we have
been astonished to see the White Antelope
seek out the coldest spots that it could find,
and lie down in the shade, perhaps close to, or
even on, the ice formed by some trickling rill
whose waters, issuing from a crevice in the
rock, were congealed as soon as they reached

the outer air. At times when other animals
try to find the warmest places they can, these
seek the coldest."
In the United States the Mountain Goat is
found on a few of the highest and most inac-
cessible mountains of Montana, Idaho, Oregon,
and Washington, and in two or three localities
in Colorado also,- provided the hunters have
not yet killed all of them. Northwestward it
is to be found here and there on the high
mountains of British Columbia, both in the
Rockies and the Cascades, through a strip of
territory about four hundred miles wide, stretch-
ing along the Pacific Coast, and extending al-
most to the Yukon River in Alaska. Contrary
to the ideas of many persons, this animal does
not live wholly above the timber-line, but
is often found, even in comparatively mild
weather, where pine and fir are abundant. To
hunt them successfully, the hunter must seek
them before snow falls, when their white coats
render them quite conspicuous objects against
the somber-colored rocks. After snow falls
hunting is useless, by reason of the impossibility
of seeing the game.
Professor Dyche says the Mountain Goat is
not going to be wholly exterminated very soon,
chiefly by reason of its inaccessibility, and the
cost in time, money, and muscle required to get
within gunshot of it. Its flesh is so musky and
dry it is not palatable to white men, save when
they are very hungry indeed; and goatskins
are so nearly worthless that I once purchased
seventy skins, fully tanned and dressed, for
only one dollar and fifty cents each. They
were originally sold in Denver, as raw pelts,
for fifty cents each.
Although the Mountain Goat is a very sure-
footed and level-headed animal, he is said by
those who have hunted him (of whom I confess
I am not one) to be a very stupid animal, and
easily killed when once the hunter reaches his
haunts. In actual weight he is about the size
of the Virginia deer, but in bulk he seems to
be larger because of his shaggy fleece of wool
and hair. The horns are small, smooth, and jet-
black, and the hoof is a strange combination of
rubber pad on the inside and knife-edge on the
outside, to hold the owner on snow, ice, or bare
rock without slipping.


/ of daisies
grew by the
side of a path that
had at one end a
low-eaved, rose-em-
bowered cottage standing
S by itself; at the other end-the
daisies did not know what it had, for it wound
out of sight.
The daisies in this clump were five, all very
beautiful and equally touched at the tip of
every petal with crimson. They were all dai-
sies of fine sentiment, as well: at least, it is
certain that one of them, who in every external
point resembled the others, was capable of
deep feeling. She opened to the sun at morn-
ing a smiling eye radiant with gratitude, and
in her language saluted him as brother; she
drank her dew and took her rain with appre-
ciation, saying a little grace before and after;
she bowed amiably to every breeze that passed,
whispering in friendly recognition. This daisy,
from the first day she came to consciousness,
felt a peculiar softness and warmth, in what we
must call her heart, toward everything around
her that seemed to her beautiful,- and, as often
happens with such a nature, almost everything
seemed to her beautiful.
But there are degrees of beauty even to one
of this disposition: to this daisy the most beau-
tiful of all things seemed a maiden who came
from the cottage every day, and walked down

the path. She was a soft-eyed young maiden
with pale gold hair in braids, and a color in
her cheek like the flush of dawn reflected on a
snow-peak. She passed with a pensive air, less
alive to the things around her than to a vision
in her own heart. The daisy wished with all
her being that she would take some notice of
them. After several disappointments, it came
to seem to this daisy, who before had been so
contented, that there was hardly any use in
existing if never this maiden was to take any
notice of one.
Imagine her feelings, then, when one morn-
ing the maiden, coming toward the clump, let
her eyes drop on it,-with an appearance of
seeing it, too! Not only that: having reached
it, she stooped and picked one of the daisies,-
not the one most interested, but a sister of
hers,- and kneeling in the grass by the thrilled
and watchful clump, stripped it of its crimson-
tipped petals one by one, murmuring over and
over: "He loves me !-with all his heart!-
to desperation!--a little !-not at all!" till the
grass was strewn as with snowflakes, and the
maiden, holding the last petal, said with a
dreamy half-smile: "He loves me!"
What she had seen had seemed to the shud-
dering daisy a cruel thing to do, and she did
not understand how it could be that this com-
passionate-eyed creature could destroy an un-
offending daisy. Her confidence in things
beautiful *as shaken. She wondered all day
long, and inquired, but without satisfactory re-
sult, of every passing butterfly.
On the next morning she felt less delight
than uneasiness when the damsel appeared.


She advanced, wearing the soft and dreamy
look that fitted her for being adored by every
flower. Reaching the clump,
which the daisy was quite
cured of wishing more
~ conspicuous, again
she stooped and
'4 / gently broke off
Si* / a daisy,-not

*/ 'the one we
Shave been chiefly
telling about, but
another sister,-
BUTTERFLY." its petals one by
one, saying the same words as on the day before.
"With all his heart !" she breathed into the
last one; and .a look so beautiful came upon
her face, as she lingered a moment in the grass
before passing further, that the daisy trembled
on her stem with an inexpressible feeling, her
whole consideration and judgment of things
undergoing a change.
All that day she swayed on her stem, dream-
ing, did this daisy; and at night an invisible
bird sang on a neighboring tree with such ef-
fect that the sentimental little thing, who had
drunk in all the music and moonshine, felt, as
she dropped asleep, that she longed-for nothing
so much as the moment when she herself would
be lifted up by the white hand of the maiden,
and lose all her petals in the cause of bringing
that lovely look into her human face. By re-
flection as well as inquiry she had arrived at an
apprehension of the meaning of the girl's game
with daisies. "All of my family die for love! "
she said to a beetle, who it is not sure had
asked for confidences.
On the next day, at the approach of the
maiden, she stretched up her head with a
ready smile: she felt sharp grief this time,
though she breathed more freely, too, at seeing
the third of her sisters preferred to her.
And on the next day again, Fate willed

that another sister still should be taken instead
of herself that was so eager. She watched the
fluttering white shreds drop in the grass, and
mechanically counted them as they fell,. for
by this time she was perfectly acquainted with
the maiden's formula.
"He loves me!-with all his heart!-to
desperation!-a little!-not at all!" The
shower stopped at that,-at "not at all!"
Something must be wrong: the daisy looked up
in doubt and dismay at the maiden, and saw
her blossom-face droop and cloud over. She
lowered her hand, and let drop from it the yel-
low wreck of the daisy. With a step less elastic
than usual she went her way down the path,
and out of sight.
Half the day the daisy grieved over what
she had seen, refusing to admit that the
weather was anything but gray and cold,
though the sun shone brightly. But in the
mellow red-gold afternoon, with its long sooth-
ing of bees and breezes, the happy
prospect began to tell on her
of the next morning reaching
the consummation of all her
wishes,- as she indubita-
bly must, since she was
the only daisy left now
of the five that had been
in the clump.
"What bliss and what
well-being !" she said, '

rocking herself in an ecstasy. "To perish, in-
deed; but in perishing to see above me that
smile like a soft sunrise spreading over the ten-
der face, and to know that it is owing to me!"



And, strong in her imagining, the daisy began
rehearsing in her mind the little scene of the
morrow. She counted her petals over, mur-
muring -at each one the appro-
priate words. Wretched daisy,
who not in the darkest dream
could have conceived such
a thing! The tale of
her horrified petals was
told at "a little!" And
over her would be not
the smile, but the griev-
ed look, the tear The
poor maiden's heart, no
doubt, would be broken.
She counted herself over '
and over, nervously.
Darkness came,
but no rest, no
peace to the daisy.
She could not be-
lieve but that by l
troubling and think-
ing she could find
a way to pre-
vent the impend- .,
ing calamity -
to put off the
fatal morning.
As many as a
hundred times she counted herself over. She had
made no mistake: the verdict was a paltry lit-
tle every time. There was no changing it; and
she silently cried a large tear of dew on to
the weed that grew just below and, unmind-'
ful of all but herself, greedily held up a dozen
mealy red cups for more.
Her grief at last, as the night wore on, settled
into despair; and as she was exhausted by
her emotions, in spite of herself she fell asleep.
She was dreaming that already -too soon!
--the birds were proclaiming the dawn, when
an unusual stirring in the grass roused her.

; -." i,'

"A drop of dew!" she heard a voice say,
the size of a young cricket's chirp. Oh, a
large drop of dew! And every cup full as caq
be of honey-meal! "
The daisy peeped astonished through her
half-closed eyelashes.
By the light of the broad moon that was just
rising over -the knoll near by, she discerned
two exquisite creatures, very like human chil-
dren, only each but a single inch tall--fairy
-people! She had heard of these, but never
before had seen them; for, though not rare,
they are by no means common.
One, who it was easy to see by his coat
made of a crimson rose-leaf was a gentleman
fairy, was clambering up the weed, peering into
the red cups. The other, a lady fairy by her
kirtle fashioned of a lily, stood at the foot of
the daisy's own stem, watching her companion.
I never tasted anything so good! said the
wisp of a man, dipping in his finger, then suck-
ing it. My Emeraldiana, we will eat it all
up!" And, having slid down, he gallantly
helped the lady to the top of the daisy, where,
seeing her comfortably seated as on a stool, he
said, "Stay there, my love; and do not give
yourself the least concern. I will serve you my-
self. Just let me dip out the meal for you."
"Very well," said the little lady, gladly re-
ceiving a portion. "It is truly delicious! But
how very sticky it is! You must certainly, my
dear Rosodorinus, provide me with a napkin."
The inch-tall gallant looked about a second,
at a loss, and delicately scratched his gold
head; then suddenly, with a little cry of delight
at his inspiration, he pulled off one of the daisy's
petals, and handed it to his lady for a napkin.
"Oh, what is the matter with my chair?"
she exclaimed, feeling the daisy under her trem-
ble, as it did with joy and surprise.
For now the daisy knew that all was well,
and that when the maiden consulted her she
would be able to answer,




[Begun in the November number.]

IN the days of discussion that followed the
Emperor's return from Russia, Philip found his
greatest comfort in Corporal Peyrolles. The
veteran of Austerlitz would come stumping
along the Street of the Fight, and in the quiet
home of the Keeper of the Archives would
second all Philip's extravagant claims as to
the invincibleness of the Emperor, and would
"have it out" with Uncle Fauriel, who pre-
tended to see in the Russian disaster the ven-
geance of heaven on the "Corsican ogre" who
had, so he said, "betrayed the Republic."
Did I leave a leg at Austerlitz," demanded
Corporal Peyrolles, "to drag the other around
after a defeated Emperor? No, Citizen. It
was to have one good leg left, with which to
dance with joy over every victory. And let me
tell you, I can dance on one leg better than
some of those dukes and marshals at the palace
can on two--with all their titles. Faith! but
I can, Mademoiselle. See now!" and, catching
Mademoiselle round the waist, the old fellow
actually swung the girl about the room, hum-
ming meanwhile one of the lively airs of the
camp, to keep step to. Then, while the others
applauded, they sank into chairs, the Corporal
panting and Mademoiselle laughing merrily.
"You see, Peyrolles is good for something
yet," said the Corporal. "And as for the leg,
Citizen," he cried to Uncle Fauriel, "it has
been a good republican leg; yes, I grant you
that. But it is a good Empire leg, too. For,
look you, it is the Emperor's leg!" and he
slapped his one sound limb so heartily that all
laughed aloud, and the page cried enthusiasti-
cally, Long live the leg! Corporal Peyrolles's
one is better than the Czar's million! "
"True for you, my Philip! said the Corpo-

ral. "What is a Cossack's leg good for but
to run away ? or a Prussian's ? or an English-
man's ? or that of any enemy of the Emperor ? "
"But the Corsican's legs are sound yet, my
Corporal," said Uncle Fauriel, and he is run-
ning too. He is running to destruction, and
dragging all France with him."
Bah! cried Corporal Peyrolles.." It is the
home-made dukes and marshals who are run-
ning that way-if any one is-with their thirst
for titles and their greed for riches. Reduce
'em to the ranks, I say; reduce 'em to the
ranks and put true men in their place -even
if they should be one-legged ones. Then I '11
back the Little Corporal against all Europe,
and Russia into the bargain."
But Citizen Daunou said: Ah, my friends,
it is not a question of France and her salvation.
If the Emperor will but be warned by this
Russian disaster; if he will but heed the wail
going up from thousands of French homes;
if he will but keep friendship with Austria or
Prussia or the Confederates of the Rhine; if
he will but remember that a single card may
lose as well as win the game, then France may
not need to stand at bay against all Europe;
'thus may both the Empire and the Emperor be
saved. It is wise, when your ship is drifting to-
ward the breakers, to throw something over-
board, and thus save ship and cargo. But,
alas! the Emperor never was anything of a
sailor, even though they did think of making
a sailor of him when he was a boy. He
will crowd on sail, and head straight for the
Philip did not believe this. He thought his
old friend was what we to-day call an "alarm-
ist." Philip was, indeed, a boy of the Empire.
He had faith in Napoleon as the greatest man
in all the world. To him Napoleon was
France; France was the Empire; and the Em-
pire would one day be Europe. So, as much


as any boy cares to think on such questions,
Philip thought the future was clear. He be-
lieved that the Russian campaign had, indeed,
been a victory. Did not Napoleon plant the
eagles on the walls of Moscow? And what is
that but victory ? He knew that the Emperor
would yet humble Europe, punish Russia, and
give new glory to France as conqueror and as
On January i, 1813, at the Emperor's New
Year's day reception, Philip saw only the great-
ness and glory of Napoleon. Alike at review
and fete that ushered in that disastrous year for
France, this optimistic and vivacious young
page was full of boastfulness as to the Em-
peror's invincibility and the Emperor's luck."
France was arming again. Almost drained
of men for the struggle with Russia, she was
now preparing herself anew for a death-grap:
ple with all Europe. Old men and young men,
veterans and boys, filled the ranks. The shat-
tered regiments were refilled. The Young
Guard, drawn from the freshest blood of France,
was formed into squadrons and battalions in
blue; and Napoleon, looking at his new fight-
ing-men that France had given him, cried with
pleasure as they passed in review before him:
"Ah, with these one may conquer every one
and everywhere!"
The Emperor was continually on the go in
those busy days. And so, too, was Philip. For
the page, growing in strength and favor, was
constantly in attendance on the Emperor at the
palaces, in the city, at the hunt, and in the
home apartments.
Here, on a certain day, as he was helping the
Emperor put on his, coat of green and gold,
Philip overheard Napoleon say to his confidant
the Marshal of the Palace: "To-morrow we
hunt at Grosbois, Duroc. We must keep mov-
ing. I must be active, so that the newspapers
will talk of it, and the English, who say I am
sick, will see that they lie. Sick! I never was
better, Duroc. But I am getting too fat, my
friend, and action makes one thinner. Have
patience. I will soon show Europe that I am
the healthiest man alive."
There was no doubt as to the truth of this
statement. The Emperor was growing fat.
The thin and sickly-looking conqueror of Arcola

and Marengo had grown into the fat and "well-
groomed" lord of the land; and even Philip's
loyalty could not deny that some day his hero
and idol might be even as fat as Uncle Fauriel.
But he hoped not.
Philip was glad of the hunting at Grosbois,
and he was on hand betimes next morning
when, with but a few attendants, the Emperor
rode toward the barriers, on his way to join the
Empress and certain of the court at Grosbois,
the estate of Prince Berthier, near Melun, some
thirty miles from Paris.
As they rode along the crowded Street of
the Suburb of St. Anthony, Philip saw a boy
not much older than himself spring from the
watching crowd straight in the Emperor's path.
Is it, then, an assassination ? Philip asked
himself. "The Emperor is in danger!" And,
quick as thought, he sprang from his horse and
seized the boy's arm.
But the Emperor said: "Hold, then, young
Desnouettes! What do you wish, you boy?"
"My freedom!" cried the boy. See your
boy-stealers have drawn me to fight against the
Cossacks. What do I care for the Cossacks ?
My old mother is more to me. What do I care
for your throne? My home is dearer. My
mother needs me more than you do. If I go,
she starves. If I am killed, she dies. Hands
off, palace-cub, Nicholas-dog!" he cried to
Philip. "I do not seek to kill this Bonaparte.
I would kill no one. I would keep my skin
for my mother. I am a Paris boy, and too
good to feed Russian wolves! "
The police made a dash at this boy who
braved the Emperor; but from the crowd came
threatening cries: "Touch him not, prison-
sheep!" "Yah! Bonaparte!- Nicholas!-give
us peace! We have had fighting enough!"
The police faced the crowd. The Emperor
sat calm and immovable. Then, with a rush
such as is known only to Paris mobs, the crowd
made a dash for the prisoner. The police were
forced off; Philip was rolled over in the mud,
and when he struggled to his feet the boy was
gone, while cries of delight and derision came
from the victorious crowd. There had been
a rescue, and the conscript had been smuggled
away by his friends.
And still the Emperor sat immovable. This



was a new experience for him. But it was not
his policy, just now, to antagonize the people.
His success depended upon their agreeing to
his demands.
"Let the boy go," he said. "The fools do
not know what they want. A mob is but a pig,
and you police bah! you are imbeciles. To
horse, my page; ride on, gentlemen! And
you,"- this to the discomfited police,- "let
not this thing happen again."
So they rode on to Grosbois the "great
wood where was the villa of Prince Berthier,
that dragoon captain who had fought for
American freedom under Lafayette, had de-
fended King Louis of France in the days
of the Terror, and had helped Bonaparte win
his way to a throne. And there they hunted
the boar that January afternoon, and Philip
had a glorious time.
But once, when the prickers had driven the
big boar straight toward the imperial spear,
Philip was surprised to see the Emperor, for-
getful of the sport, with his head bent and his
reins slack on his horse's neck, lost in thought.
"On guard, Sire!" cried the page. "The
pig will escape you." And, fearing this, he
dashed forward to head off the beast and drive
him back for the Emperor's spear.
"Eh? So, boy! I was thinking. I had
the Prussians cornered. Kill the pig yourself."
Philip sought to do this; but his horse turned
sharply; the boar, darting between the horse's
legs, disconcerted the steed; it snorted, reared,
and plunged, and over on his head went Mon-
sieur the Page. The boar turned to charge, and
the Emperor, now aroused from his reverie, at
once saw the boy's danger. Spurring his horse to
the spot, with an expert plunge of the spear he
ran the boar through, just as its murderous tusks
were within an ace of the prostrate page.
"Why, Philip; why, boy!" cried the Em-
peror; "your training at Alfort must have been
poor. Can you not keep your saddle? How
can you expect to ride to the front in a cavalry
charge ? "
Philip rose, feeling very small indeed. Thrown
by a mob! Thrown by a pig! This was not
exactly a day of laurels for Monsieur the Page.
But the Emperor cried gaily: "'T is the for-
tune of war, young Desnouettes! Up and try

it again!" and, much chagrined, Philip mounted
his horse and dropped behind the Emperor.
Next morning the talk at the grand break-
fast in the castle of Grosbois was all of the
hunt for that day. Horses and huntsmen were
in readiness when, suddenly, the Emperor
sprung a surprise upon the company.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, we shall
not hunt to-day. We ride to Fontainebleau."
"To Fontainebleau, Sire!" cried the ladies,
in dismay. "To Fontainebleau ? Why, we have
only our hunting-dresses with us! "
"I weep for you, ladies," said the Emperor,
in mock sympathy; "but such are my plans.
The Holy Father will, I am sure, excuse your
hunting-dress. Boy Philip, is the post-chaise
ready for me ? "
"It waits in the court, Sire," Philip replied.
"Good," said the Emperor. Do you, then,
mount your horse and gallop on ahead to the
palace. Tell Monsieur the Chamberlain that I
shall be there within the hour. But let him on
no account acquaint the Holy Father of my
coming. Now then, off with speed Ride on,
boy; ride on!"
SIt was well that Philip had snatched a hasty
bite to eat that morning with the chief page
of Prince Berthier. Otherwise he would have
gone breakfastless. For he was on his horse in
an instant, galloping through the forest to the
palace at Fontainebleau, where, for more than a
year, the Emperor had held a close prisoner
that Pope of Rome known as Pius the Seventh.
The quarrel between the Emperor and the
Pope has no bearing on our story. Suffice it
to say that when Napoleon assumed the sover-
eignty of Italy he took away from the Pope
what is known as his temporal power-the
right to rule the States of the Church as a
landed prince. And when that spirited old
Pontiff objected to Napoleon's ways, the Em-
peror stole him bodily-first from Rome, and
then from Savona, until finally he shut the
Pope up in this palace of Fontainebleau until
such time as the Holy Father would yield
to the imperial will. This the Pope refused
to do; and, living the life of a recluse in that
great gilded palace, he had come to be known
to men as the Prisoner of Fontainebleau.
Through the crisp winter's morning Philip




rode on to Fontainebleau. Into the wide forest
he galloped, on under its great leafless trees,
on past the meadows, lawns, and cliffs that
make the forest of Fontainebleau one of the
world's picture-spots, on past the Cross of the
Specter Huntsmen, the Gorge of the Wolf,

the Pool of the Elves, the Miraculous
Weeping Rock, and the Robbers'
Cave, up the Grand Promenade of
the Queen, and so through the great
gardens into the splendid Court of
the White Horse. Here he threw
his reins to the groom, and sought in
the palace Monsieur the Captain La-
grosse of the Imperial Guard, who, NAPO
while really the jailer, posed as the
chamberlain of the Prisoner of Fontainebleau.
Philip delivered his message. At once there
was the bustle of preparation. Not for a year
and more had the Emperor or his court been
seen at the great palace.
VOL. XXII.- 87.

Philip, left to his own devices, wandered
through the splendid building, prying into the
magnificent rooms, in which kings and queens
had held high festival in days gone by, and
wondering, boy-like, as he peeped and pried,
in just what rooms the captive Pope of Rome
lived in priestly state.
Along a wide hall that looked out upon the
Court of the Fountain, Philip strolled and loi-
tered, trr ing door after door in his curiosity.
One of these opened to his touch, and the page,
pa.siing through, found himself in a little room
that I..:,lked like a plain and poorly furnished
bedchiimber. Within this room a slight and
pleasant- faced
I _i i man sat, busy
I, L-|-j j withneedleand
7, t"-g thread, mend-
ing a pair of
Eh, there!
S Grandfather,"
cried the heed-
less page.. "I
knew no one
washere. Can
you tell me,
one might see
the prisoner ? "
The pris-
the old man re-
at the boy in
S gentle inquiry.
"Yes I
mean the Pope,
the Pope Pius,"
explained Phil-
ip; "he whom
men call the
I am that
unfortunate, my son," said the old man, rising.
"What would you with me? Speak. I am the
",You the Pope! You-and in this mean
little room-mending old clothes like that!




Oh, forgive me! I- I did not know-" and
down on his knees before this sweet-faced old
man dropped the prying page, now deeply mor-
tified at his heedlessness of speech and act.

AT that moment a voice was heard in the
outer room; then followed the sound of swing-
ing doors and hurrying feet.
The Pope, living in an atmosphere of uncer-
tainty, gave quick ear to the disturbance. He
drew away his hand from the head of the
kneeling boy, and looked with anxious inquiry
into Philip's upturned face. Did this boy's
presence, this sudden noise of intrusion, mean
a new danger for him ? Recollections flashed
across him of how that very room in which he
sat had, long years ago, been the apartment
of that stanch Archbishop Thomas a Becket,
whom an English king had murdered at the
very altar. He stood erect, defiance and res-
ignation curiously mingled in his face.
Philip, too, sprang to his feet.
It is the Emperor! he cried.
"The Emperor?-here?" echoed Pope Pius.
He strode to the door and flung it open. There,
in the opposite doorway, stood his persecutor
and his opponent. But not as a foeman nor
an assassin did the great Emperor appear. In-
stead, his broad, handsome face beamed with
friendship; from eyes and lips sprang the smiles
of welcome and good will. Crossing the Pope's
antechamber, he almost ran, with extended
arms, to where in the open doorway stood the
startled Pope, with the troubled page behind
Napoleon flung his arms about the Pontiff.
My father!" he cried, and kissed him on
the cheek.
My son!" the Pope responded, tenderly
but with dignity, and returned the embrace.
Pope Pius saw the man whom, ten years be-
fore, he had anointed Emperor of the French;
Napoleon saw the man from whose hands he
had received the imperial crown, and whom
it was now his policy to reconcile.
For nearly ten days the court remained at
Fontainebleau, and when Napoleon rode back

to Paris he had accomplished what his surprise-
party to the Pope was intended to bring about.
As for Philip, he experienced for days no
little uncertainty and chagrin, although he man-
aged, of course, to have a good time at Fon-
He had not made a dazzling success of
himself, however, on this semi-official outing.
He had been tumbled into the mud when he
had tried to protect the Emperor from a fancied
assassination; he had been flung heels over
head and almost disabled on the hunting-field,
when he had the chance to show his valor and
his skill; he had intruded most unwarrantably
upon the privacy of a Pope, and used lan-
guage of which he was ashamed. Certainly,
as a page of the palace he had displayed an
ability for blundering into scrapes, in which
only his loyalty and the Emperor's favor saved
him from ridicule and a scolding.
The Emperor saw this, too. For, one day,
standing in the gorgeous vestibule that led to
the private apartments of the Emperor, Philip
was suddenly accosted by Napoleon.
"Well, my Philip," the Emperor said, "you
look tall enough to be a man. How old now,
you boy ?"
"Seventeen next August, Sire," said the page.
"Within the legal age for conscription, eh ?"
queried the Emperor. "And smart and sound
enough, although something of a blunderer.
We must find active service for you. Some-
times you appear to be more a bull in a china-
shop than a quiet page of the palace. But you
do your best, you boy; you do your best. We
must put your overflow of spirits to better
service for France."
For France! That was the Emperor's one
thought now; that, too, was Philip's desire, and
he hailed with delight the promise of a change
of duty.

But when Philip told the old Keeper what
good fortune awaited him, Citizen Daunou said
solemnly: The Emperor has yet to learn the
grandeur of victory that comes through peace.
Heaven send he may not learn it at the cost
of his crown, his country, and his life!"
Pierre, the young inspector of police, was
becoming a frequent visitor at the house of the




Keeper of the Archives, who, like the good
republican he was, disdained the distinctions
of rank and of title, if only men were true at
heart, and at Mademoiselle's salon welcomed
all his friends on equal footing and with equal
good will. After Philip had gone, Pierre re-
mained to see their host alone.
Pierre beckoned the old Keeper aside.
I have found something, Citizen Daunou,"
he said, "that for nearly two years I have been
hunting down--at the Emperor's request, mark
you. Only to-day did I unearth what may be
the thing I seek. I found it--well, no need
to tell you where. Enough that I have found
it. Will you read it, Citizen? See if you can
fit it to anything you have."
Citizen Daunou took from Pierre's hand the
piece of paper the inspector held out to him.
It was a frayed and dingy slip, yellow with
age, and with the appearance of having been
torn, years before, from a larger document.
The old man adjusted his spectacles, and read
the words upon the slip. They were not many,
but they seemed to startle him. He gave a
glance of rapid inquiry at Pierre. Then he
read the lines again.
"Why! What is it?" he said. "This is
most singular. This is my faith! Pierre, it
may be- it is the missing record! And you
found it where ? "
Pierre shrugged his shoulders. "That is my
affair, Citizen. Does it tell you anything ?"
Did it not, though ? For this is what good
Citizen Daunou read on that frayed and dingy
bit of paper:

" .. -izen Jules Marcel of the Street of the Straight
Wall, to bring up as good patriots and as children of
the Republic."

"Marcel? Marcel ? Jules Marcel? mused
Citizen Daunou, tapping his forehead. Why,
that was the husband of Mademoiselle's nurse.
He was a sansculotte. And from her must
have come- A light! A light! Pierre! I
see a light! And the Emperor said I was
but an owl! I was, my faith! I was. Will
you give me this, lad? I must study it out,
and think it over. And why is it with
"The Emperor's commission, Citizen," said

the boy inspector. "He said to me, 'Find
this out for me.' And I have found it."
"Have you shown it to him yet?" asked
Citizen Daunou.
"No, Citizen," Pierre replied; "for have
you not the rest of the paper?"
To be sure; so I have at the Archives,"
the Keeper admitted. "Let me but fit the
pieces together, and unravel the tangled
threads. I must study it out with certainty.
Trust me, you shall have all the glory of the
find, my Pierre."
"Oh, as for that, my friend,"- another
shrug,-" if it solves the riddle, and does those
we know a service, it is glory enough for me.
It is my life-such things as this, Citizen."
There was no doubt that Pierre's cleverness
had brought about an important result. But
so, too, had Philip's loyalty led to results
equally important in that young patriot's esti-
mation. For one bright day in March, as he
awaited in the Tuileries garden the pleasure of
good Madame de Montesquiou, the governess
of the little King of Rome, he spied the Em-
peror pacing the path, head bent, and hands
behind his back-his best-remembered attitude.
"So, Monsieur the Page, are you there ?"
he said. "I have been thinking of you. Al-
most seventeen, eh ? And here is all France
rallying around the eagles. It is Young
France's opportunity for glory. It .shall be
yours. And you-you, my Philip," he went on
eagerly; "look now! You are nearly seventeen.
You are sturdy and strong. Sometimes you
play the fool, but you are true-hearted and
faithful. You know the ways of palaces. You
can read; you can write; you can ride; you
can draw plans; you can foot up figures; you
can obey orders quickly and with brains. You
are too good for a private soldier, or even a
sub-lieutenant; you are not good enough for a
captain or a private secretary. You shall join
my new flying squadron of field secretaries -
my unofficial aides-de-camp. You shall go to
the wars with me as one of my new officers
of ordonnance."
Oh, Sire! in that splendid uniform of blue
and silver ?" cried the page.
"Hear the boy!" laughed the Emperor,
tweaking the page's ear. "I give him a chance


for glory, and he chatters about his uniform.
Look, your Majesty," and he pulled Philip to-
ward the little King's carriage, once again in
his path, "here 's a fellow who thinks more of
his rig-out of blue and silver than of France


and the Emperor. What can your Majesty
make of such a dandy?"
No, no, Sire; do not say that! Philip pro-
tested, flushed with excitement and pleasure.
" But you quite took away my breath with your
kindness. I have never dreamed of anything
so glorious. And I ? Hear me, Sire! I will
serve you faithfully."
I believe you will try, boy Philip-boy no
longer, now," the Emperor said kindly. "See
that you keep that promise. And remember!

It is not for me, but for France, that you labor.
For France, the mother of us all."
There were others besides Philip to stand up
for France; to shed their blood for France; to
conquer, even to die, for the glory of France.
But there were others,
S. forced to serve in the
.great army of three
hundred thousand men
which as if by magic
had risen from the
earth at the Emperor's
S command, who were
S drilling and marching
against their will, and
only because of the
strong arm of military
despotism. There were
'many who might will-
'' ingly fight for France,
Sbut not for the Empe-
ror. The nation desired
peace, the Emperor
commanded war; and
Many followed his ea-
gles against their will.
But let justice be
done Napoleon.
I desire peace," he
said at the opening
of that battle-spring of
1813. It is necessary
to the world. But I will
S never make any peace
'' which is not honorable
r,*i| and in conformity with
T "the greatness of my
Empire. Our enemies
seek the disruption of
the Empire. They proclaim universal war. I
will conquer them, and bring peace through vic-
tory, and give greatness and glory to France."
So, bent on his purpose, the Emperor has-
tened his preparations for war. The Empress
was made Regent of France, to reign in his
absence and in his name; and, rank upon rank,
the battalions in blue marched toward the Prtis-
sian frontier.
On April 15, 1813, Napoleon left St. Cloud to
take command of his assembled armies.




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Philip was to accompany him. The boy was
full of confidence and hope, and so inspired his
friends with his bright enthusiasm that even
Uncle Fauriel gave the lad his blessing, while
Mademoiselle went into ecstasies over his fine
appearance, and Corporal Peyrolles was sure
"his boy" would return a marshal at least.
At the Tuileries the Emperor joined his staff
and his escort of the Guard. There Philip was
to join him, and there, on the morning of that
momentous fifteenth of April, the boy ordon-
nance-officer reported for duty.
Thither had come Pierre and Peyrolles to
bid him good-by; and, with Uncle Fauriel as
escort, thither came Mademoiselle, bravely smil-
ing through her tears.
The Emperor, in his well-known green uni-
form and famous cocked hat, appeared in the
portal of the palace; the last good-bys were
being said; and, now that the time for separa-

tion had actually come, Philip and Mademoi-
selle felt just a trifle awkward.
Even the Emperor had an eye for this little
scene, and was on the point of making some
characteristic remark, when through the crowd
burst Citizen Daunou, his chapeau awry, his
white hair all about his ears.
Excited and unceremonious, he cried out as
soon as he found the little group, It fits, Sire!
The paper fits. I am an owl no longer. Em-
brace our Philip, Mademoiselle. It is your
right. Bid him God-speed for Erance! I have
made a discovery! You are not Mademoiselle
Daunou, as you thought; nor Lucie Marcel, as
I thought when I adopted you as my daughter
from the home of the sansculotte. Embrace
our Philip, Mademoiselle. It is your duty, I
say. For you are Mademoiselle Lucie Des-
nouettes. You are of the best blood of France.
And Philip Philip is your brother !"

(To be continued.)




( The State of Iowa lies between
Two rivers, broad and long;
S Each hastening to their meeting-place
S With currents deep and strong.
From north -to south, from east to west,
This State has fertile land;
S Here health, and wealth, and honest work
Go always hand in hand.

The people of the, ".Hawkeye" State
Seek to be wise and good,
S And so the school and church are found
In every neighborhood.

This State has wealth of yellow maize
STo bring her golden- coin;
The capital's in the central part-
".l A city called Des Moines.




( The State of Iowa lies between
Two rivers, broad and long;
S Each hastening to their meeting-place
S With currents deep and strong.
From north -to south, from east to west,
This State has fertile land;
S Here health, and wealth, and honest work
Go always hand in hand.

The people of the, ".Hawkeye" State
Seek to be wise and good,
S And so the school and church are found
In every neighborhood.

This State has wealth of yellow maize
STo bring her golden- coin;
The capital's in the central part-
".l A city called Des Moines.


How many States have borrowed names
From rivers by or through them ?
How many of these have taken names
From Indians who knew them?

Missouri River through the State
Sweeps on with lordly motion,
Then to the Mississippi joins
And with it seeks the ocean.

tf t

The State possesses many things
To make' the people wealthy:
Rich prairie pastures, timber, coal -
Withal, a climate healthy.

St. Louis on the east we see,
And westward Kansas City;
The capital, half-way between,
'Mid hills and valleys pretty. ,
i a INWiAeu -i &l1



_I ii~

THESE are the eggs so smooth and round
That held the wonderful secret.

This is the nest where the eggs were found -
The pretty white eggs so smooth and round
That held the wonderful secret.

This is the pigeon with soft gray breast
Who sat all day on the loose straw nest -
The nest where the pretty white eggs were
found -
Her own little eggs so smooth and round
That held the wonderful secret.


I' i -, t "

This is the pigeon-house safe and high
(Where never a prowling cat could pry)
Where lived the pigeon with soft gray breast
Who sat all day on the loose straw nest -
The 'nest where the pretty white eggs were
found -
Her own little eggs so smooth and round
That held the wonderful secret.

This is the barn which the farmer had filled
With hay and grain from the fields he had
The barn near which stood the pigeon-house
(Where never a prowling cat could pry) -
Where lived the pigeon with soft gray breast
Who sat all day on the loose straw nest-
The nest where the pretty white eggs were
found -
Her own little eggs so smooth and round
That held the wonderful secret.



I ;-u~f.
''~ '

This is the bin full of corn so good,
The little gray pigeon's favorite food,
That was in the barn which the farmer had
With hay and grain from the fields he had
tilled -
The barn near which stood the pigeon-house
(Where never a prowling cat could pry)--
Where lived the pigeon with soft gray breast
Who sat all day on the loose straw nest-
The nest where the pretty white eggs were -
found -
Her own little eggs so smooth and round
That held the wonderful secret.

This is the child so thoughtful
and kind
Who went to the bin the corn to
W find -
The bin full of corn so yellow and good,
The little gray pigeon's favorite food,
That was in the barn which the farmer had
With hay and grain from the fields he had
tilled -
The barn near which was the pigeon-house high
(Where never a prowling cat could pry)-
Sl' ', Where lived the pigeon with soft gray breast
/ f '' Who sat all day on the loose straw nest-
The nest where the pretty white eggs were
found -
Her own little eggs so smooth and round
S That held the wonderful secret.

S. And when the child threw the corn about,
The little gray pigeon came fluttering out
From the door of the pigeon-house safe and high,
And the child heard a faint little cooing cry -
A sweet little, wee little murmuring sound:
For instead of the eggs so smooth and round
(Perhaps the wonderful secret you 've guessed)
Two baby pigeons were in the nest!



L ~-
-'Jgm ""
~-I 1--


WHILE visiting the "Zoo some time ago, I took my
children to see the elephant, and to give them a ride.
After the ride I waited to give the elephant a bun, and, to
make him say" Please," said, "Salaam kuro"-that is,
" Make a salaam." The animal looked at me hard for some
time, with the bun in my hand; at last memory came to his
help, and up went his trunk, and he made a most correct
"salaam." The keeper seemed very much surprised, and
asked me what it meant. I told him it was a point of
good manners for an elephant to raise his trunk up to his
forehead if any one was going to feed him, and that fre-
quently elephants will ask in this polite manner for some-
thing when they see any one pass by who is likely to
feed them.
The keeper assured me he had never seen the elephant
do this before,- and, if I remember rightly, he had been
in charge of the animal since it arrived from India,- and
that it was one of those which took part in the grand
procession at Agra when his Royal Highness the Prince
of Wales visited India. There I doubtless saw- it.
For seventeen years this animal had never heard these
words, and had always taken his food without this mark
of good manners; but now I dare say the keeper makes
him remember his youthful good training; and the little
children will see on their visits to the "Zoo" this in-
stance of "always say please."--Exchange.

BRIDGEPORT, March 2.-The officers of the steamer
"Nutmeg State," plying between this city and New York,
had a fine dinner of wild duck yesterday. On Wednes-
day, when the steamer left this city at midnight, Captain
Wilcox noticed that a flock of ducks hovered around the
boat. When off Penfield Reef ice was found floating in
the Sound in large quantities, and the search-light was
turned on. A short time afterward Captain Wilcox heard
a great flapping of wings, and by the rays of the powerful
light saw a large flock of ducks circle again and again
around the boat. Suddenly they turned and darted
straight toward the light.
They struck the thick glass of the search-light and the
iron box surrounding it, the pilot-house and the smoke-
stack. The passengers were awakened, and many came
on deck. When the excitement was over it was found

that fully a score of the birds had been killed. It is prob-
able that many more were so badly injured that they died
and fell into the water after the boat had passed on. One
of the windows in the pilot-house was smashed.-New-
York Tribune.
GIRAFFES have become very scarce since the dervishes
seized the basin of the upper Nile. They were once to be
bought for about 240 each; now a good giraffe would
fetch over Iooo. The Jardin d'Acclimatation at Paris
recently refused to sell three very young ones for 2000.
Elephants range in price from 160 to 480.-Exchange.

THE largest nugget found in North Carolina weighed
80 pounds. The largest ever found in Siberia weighed 96
pounds and 4 ounces. The largest piece of gold ever
found in Colorado weighed 13 pounds, and this was by
no means pure gold. The largest ever found in the world
was in Australia in 1852, and was known as the King of
the Water Moon nugget. It weighed 223 pounds and 4
ounces, and was worth about $4o,ooo.-San Francisco
A CALIFORNIA writer states that the whole of our sixty-
five millions of people could dwell in the three States of
California, Nebraska, and Kansas without producing a
greater density of population than there is in Japan, Eng-
land, or several other countries. In the two Chinese prov-
inces of Kiang-Su and Ngan-Hui, the area of which is but
two thirds as large as that of California, there are over
sixty millions who find the means of life.-Exchange.

IT has been generally conceded that St. Augustine,
Fla., is the oldest white settlement in the United States,
having been founded by Melendez in the year 1565 ; but
there is evidence to show that the town of Tucson, in
Arizona, antedates St. Augustine by at least thirteen
years. In the year 1552 their Catholic Majesties Ferdi-
nand and Isabella of Spain issued a charter to and for the
pueblo of Tucson, which, after having been mislaid for a
matter of three hundred years or more, has recently been
discovered among the archives of the Church of San
Xavier del Bac, which is situated about ten miles below
the present town of Tucson.
Accompanying the charter of the pueblo of Tucson is
an account, written in the handwriting of Padre Marco
Niza, of the founding of the pueblo. Padre Niza was a
Jesuit who accompanied the expedition organized in the
City-of Mexico for the exploration of Arizona and New
Mexico, under the charge of Coronado, the function of
the worthy padre having been the Christianizing of the
natives and the recording of the progress and exploits of
the expedition. If his account is to be received as histor-
ical,- and every presumption is in its favor,- a church
was founded at San Xavier del Bac, and a small town


begun to support and protect the church, on the site of
the Indian village of Tucson, the name having been pre-
ser*ed until the present day.-San Francisco Chronicle.
BOYHOOD owes a debt of gratitude to The British
Medical Journal, which, in one of its recent issues, ex-
plodes the popular belief with regard to early rising.
This leading medical authority takes the part of the
sleepy youth against his wakeful parents. We learn now
that it is natural and proper for elderly people to rise at
5 or 6 A. M., because their vascular system has become
stiff; but that it is equally natural and proper for the
healthy boy to keep his bed till 8. Henceforth boys
must deny themselves such violent delights as rising
with the lark, and their elders must cease encouraging
them in so vicious a practice. The early worm may be
all very well for the early-rising parent, if his tastes lie
in that direction; but there are more palatable articles of
food at the disposal of the boy who gets up later in the
day, which derive additional savor from the conviction
that by lying abed he has done justice to his vascular
system. It is a great thing to have a vascular system-
especially for boys.- New- York Tribune.

A Curious Battle in the Air Ended by a Charge of
MR. LUTHER T. WALLING, of Bradford County, went
into the North Mountain region of Sullivan County a few
days ago to hunt deer with a party of Lackawanna Val-
ley sportsmen. When they had established their camp
the hunters made an agreement not to fire at anything
but deer, the penalty for breaking the rule being a fine
of $5.
While standing on a runway the second day, Mr.
Walling's attention was attracted to a fierce battle in
mid-air directly over the ravine, and the fight became so
interesting that he forgot all about deer for the time.
The winged belligerents were an eagle and a raven.
Apparently the eagle had started to fly from one moun-
tain-top to another, and had been attacked by the raven
before it had gone far. The eagle had a bird in its
claws, and it was evident that the raven was trying to
make it drop its prey. When Mr. Walling caught sight
of the warring birds, the raven had the best of the fight.
It dived and struck the eagle on the back a number of
times, the eagle contenting itself with shooting out at the
raven with'its bill, but failing to hit it.
At length the raven worried the eagle to such an ex-
tent that the latter arose in the air with great swiftness,
far above its tormentor, and then dived toward it with the
speed of a meteor. The raven understood the eagle's
tactics perfectly, for it evaded the fatal stroke just in the
nick of time, and the eagle swooped to within zoo feet of
the ground before it curved for another upward flight.
At that moment the pugnacious raven struck it again,
and once more the eagle arose high in the air nnd made
another futile dart at the raven. This was repeated seven
or eight times with a like result.
Then the raven clawed a mass of feathers from the
eagle's back, and after another race skyward and down-
ward, the eagle, seeming to have got enough of the bat-
tle, started to wing its way to the opposite mountain-top.
It still clung to its prey, and the raven, which was as full
of fight as ever, renewed the attack so furiously that the
eagle was compelled to change its mind about seeking
shelter in the timber. It fought the raven off until the
battle-field was in about the same point of the sky that the


fight had begun, or almost directly over the spot where
Mr. Walling was standing in the bushes.
While witnessing the battle it occurred to Mr. Wal-
ling that the hunting-party had been talking about the
difficulty of shooting ravens the night before. One of the
sportsmen had said that he would give $io for a perfect
specimen of a raven to put in his collection of stuffed
birds; and the remembrance of that fact caused Mr.
Walling to make up his mind to shoot at the raven, even
if he had to sacrifice his chance of killing a deer.
So the next time the raven dived at the eagle, Mr.
Walling fired at it with a charge of buckshot. Both birds
tumbled into the briers a few rods away, and both were
dead when Mr. Walling reached them. The raven,
which was as large as three ordinary crows, had been
killed by a buckshot under its left wing, and its skin was
in perfect condition for the taxidermist. The eagle, a
large bald one, had a red-tailed hawk in its talons when
it died with three buckshot in its body.
Instead of resuming his watch on the runway, Mr.
Walling trudged back to camp at once with his feathered
game. When his fellow-sportsmen returned, he sold the
raven for $io, paid the penalty for shooting at something
besides deer, and put $5 in his pocket.- New- York Sun.

MANY authors have attempted to answer this question,
but none have succeeded. Theoretically, the solution
has been attempted by counting the number of wing-
beats per second, and from that to guess the distance the
bees fly from their hives. The results have differed
widely, varying from two to twelve English miles. Ac-
cording to Professor Marey's graphic method," the bees
make I90 wing-beats per second. His method consists
in fastening a bee in such a way that its wings are free to
move, one of them touching lightly a rotating cylinder
covered with a smooth and lightly blackened paper.
Professor Landois, who has studied the sound-apparatus
of many animals, thinks, from the pitch of the sounds
made by the vibrating wings, that they move to and fro
at the rate of 400 vibrations per second-more than
double Marey's results.
According to Professor Marey's figures, I90 wing-beats
per second would bring the bee over a distance of one
English mile per minute. If Professor Landois is right,
the distance would be two miles. According to these
estimates, it will not be far from the truth to say that
bees fly about thirty English miles an hour, or that, dur-
ing an absence of twenty minutes from the hive, they fly
about ten to twelve miles. Most observers, however,
are inclined to think that the bees do not fly more than
eighteen to twenty miles an hour, because the wing-beats
of a bee in freedom and under the observer's instrument
are not the same. Every one has observed the com-
paratively slow flight of the bee when returning home,
loaded with honey and pollen. Practical examination
shows that experiments of this kind are not entirely re-
liable. Better results are obtained by observing bees in
districts where bees never before were found, or by in-
troducing yellow bees where only gray or brown ones
are known, or vice versa. In such cases it has been seen
that the bees never went more than four to five English
miles away, at the utmost. The usual distance was two
miles. One instance is known where a bee-keeper on an
island seven miles from the coast of Texas found that his
bees went to the mainland for honey and pollen. A
practical bee-keeper does not expect any great results
from flower-fields three miles away. They should be no
more than two miles away, in a straight line.-Exchange.


CONTRIBUTORS are respectfully informed that between the ist of June and the isth of September manuscripts cannot conveniently be
examined at the office of ST. NICHOLAS. Consequently, those who desire to favor the magazine with contributions
will please postpone sending their MSS. until after the last-named date.


SINCE the publication of the article "The Last Voyage
of the' Constitution,' "in ST. NICHOLAS for February, we
have received from two correspondents criticisms upon
the story told about the jumping of the boy from the
masthead. Certainly, it could not have been true in
regard to Commodore Hull, as he had no children. One
correspondent says that he has heard the incident told
as occurring in the British navy at a period earlier than
Hull's time. It is at least doubtful, also, whether any
boy could make the leap described, so as to clear the
sides of a ship as wide as the Constitution, unless the ves-
sel was rolling. But the ballad beginning Old Ironsides
at anchor lay, in the harbor at Mahon," is so familiar to
every school-boy that it may well excuse Mr. Benjamin
for retelling the story there'told of the Constitution,
though the basis of the ballad is perhaps little more than
a legend.
A "SAVANNAH READER" asks us to say that by the
census taken in January, 1895, the city of Savannah,
Georgia, showed a population of 62,279. These figures
are of course later than were available for the "Rhymes
of the States."

MARY A. G.- Please send your address again to the
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have never seen any letter
from Witch City, though I have seen one from Boston,
which is only seventeen miles from here.
Salem is the dearest old place in the world, I think.
It has so many old buildings, tablets, and so on, with
Baker's Island, Marblehead, and The Willows" (all pop-
ular summer resorts), and two museums for amusements
when others fail. "The Old Church" (the first church
built in Massachusetts) is still standing, and is a funny
little old place. The "Witch House" is also standing,
and there are people living there. Gallows Hill" (the
hill where the gallows stood in Witch Times ") is on
the road to Peabody, which is quite near here.
At the latter place the citizens are about to celebrate
the birth of George Peabody, after whom the town was
named. He founded the great Peabody Institute.
There is a great deal I could write about Peabody,
but I will leave that for another time.
Salem is the birthplace of Hawthorne, the great author
who wrote The House of the Seven Gables," and many
other romances. The same house is still standing, and
somebody lives there.
In closing my description of Salem, I will add that
Marblehead is a popular summer resort, and in its harbor
fishing, boating, and racing are carried on quite exten-
sively. I remain your admiring friend and reader,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : We are two neighbors who live
next to each other. We take your delightful maga-
zine, and spend many happy hours poring over your

entertaining articles. We are very much interested in
"Brownies." We had a" Brownie" entertainment here
in town this season. The principal characters were:
Indian, Indian maiden, Uncle Sam, College Student,
Sailor Boy, Dude, Toboggan Slider, and many others of
less importance. They all were very nice, as each had
some amusing thing to do or say, which made it very
interesting. The part of the dude was taken by a pretty
little brown-eyed girl who sang I am a Dashing Brow-
nie Swell, as You Can Plainly See," and acted it out.
The Indian maiden was equally good, speaking a very
nice piece. The part of the Sailor Boy was taken to
perfection by a very small boy who sang a very appro-
priate song.
Herbie set a dozen and a half of bantam eggs last fall,
and got two banties who are great pets.
Long life to the ST. NICHOLAS.
Ever your friends, BERTHA E. N- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We first commenced to take
you in November, 1894. We enjoy you ever so much,
and hope we can take you for many years.
I live in the" Panhandle." We have n't any trees here;
we have to go three or four miles to see any trees. The
people here have planted a few trees in town. The
people of Amarillo have a good many picnics in the sum-
mer; they have them on the creeks or caion. The cation
is a very interesting place; it is very large, and runs
through a great many towns. I will give some of the
names of parts of the cation: The Lakes, Chalk Caion,
Whispering Cave, The Falls, and then there are parts
that are not named, and parts that I do not know.
Your reader, FLORIEDE W- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have a very nice uncle who
lives in St. John, N. B. He sends me ST. NICHOLAS,
and I like it very much; this will be the second year I
have taken you. The story I like best is "Tom Sawyer
Abroad"; I have read it twice.
I used to live in St. John, but came here last July, and,
oh! I was so home-sick for dear old St. John. I did n't
know any little girls here, and for two whole months I
never got ST. NICHOLAS, and you don't know how lone-
some the days were; at last, one morning, the postman
brought me two numbers, and I was so glad to get them
that I cried, for I just felt as if I had got one of my old
St. John friends back again.
I like Montreal much better now than I did. I go to
Miss Gardiner's school, and many of the girls there are
very nice. We have lots of snow here, and papa takes
us for such lovely sleigh-drives; and if you come up here
I will get him to take you, too, and I am sure you would
like it.
Believe me, dear ST. NICHOLAS, one of your Canadian
friends, GWLADYS D- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am fairly well acquainted with
you, as I have had you for eight years, but have never
written to you before. I am at school at Rugby. I don't


know if its routine would be interesting to you. We are
waked at 6:30, and have to be in our places in the school
chapel at 7. There is a short service till 7:15, and
then first lesson till 8:15. Then we all separate to
our various houses for breakfast. After breakfast there
is usually about three quarters of an hour to ourselves.
Then we have to prepare for second lesson, which is
from 10:15 to 11:15; this does not apply to the whole
school: some, those who learn chemistry, go in on their
proper days from 9:15 to Io. Third lesson is either from
11:15 to 12:15, or 12:15 to 1:15-it depends on the form
you are in, and what masters you are under. In the
afternoon, the times vary considerably; I can't give you
any proper notion of them. Fifth lesson is from 5 to 6.
In the summer term, locking-up is at 7:30. Locking-up
is, as its name implies, locking the house-doors, so that
no one can get out. But in the Christmas term it gets
gradually earlier and earlier, till it is at 4:30., This is
on half-holidays only; on the others, of course, we are
in school. We have three half-holidays a week. At
3 o'clock we have "calling over" in Old Big School
(generally called C. 0."), and after that we go to our
games. We have two racquet courts, and a good
number of hand-fives courts.
The evenings of the days we have to ourselves, except
that we have preparation for first lesson to do some time.
For the middle school, and the lower, there is "prepara-
tion" from 7:30 to 9:15; and they prepare their work
As to holidays, we have eight or nine weeks at mid-
summer, and four at Christmas and Easter. When
Easter falls on a certain date, however, we have five at
Christmas and three at Easter, as we are having this
year. I should like to know how we compare with your
average school.
I think "Decatur and Somers" was a good story.
Best wishes for good luck and long life from
B. H-

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Though I have always been
one of your warmest friends, I have never yet aspired
to the dignity of -seeing my letter in the Letter-box."
By the post-mark you will see that I live in The City
of Groves and Bowers," and of course, as the capital of
the United States, it is the best and most beautiful city
in the world. With its wide, shady streets and stately
houses, it can be spoken of only in the superlative degree.
Good-by, dear ST. NICHOLAS.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: As we have taken you six years
I thought it would be nice to write you a letter. My
father is an officer in the United States Navy. We live
now at League Island Navy Yard, but we used to live at
Annapolis, Maryland, aboard the old frigate the Santee."
There, my father was in charge of ships, and we went out
in a steam-launch almost every day. Beside the Santee
were the Wyoming" and Passaic along the wharf. It
was very interesting to watch the cadets practise in the
rigging of the Wyoming. Here, we live in a house two
miles from the city, near the water, opposite the marine
barracks, where we can see the marines drill. Occasion-
ally my father has a chance to take us to Cramp's ship-
yard, where were built the Minneapolis and the Co-w
lumbia," the two fastest cruisers afloat. It is great fun
to see the men there numbering about six thousand -
go home to dinner. I liked best in the ST. NICHOLAS
for April Chris and the Wonderful Lamp," and "Jack
Ballister's Fortunes." I remain your devoted reader,

CHER ST. NICHOLAS: Je suis une petite fille Ameri-
caine ag6e de dix ans. Je veux vous dire ce que j'ai fait
pendant les vacances de l'e6t passe. Je suis allee &
Mittenwald au sud de la Baviere. La on construit les
meilleurs violons de toute l'Allemagne. Nous avons fait
beaucoup de tours A pied et en bicycle. Parmi les pre-
miers, l'ascension de la Zugspitze, qui est de trois mille
pieds plus haut que Mt. Washington.
Certains passages sont tres raiders, et 1'etablissement
d'escaliers en fer a det n6cessaire pour ]es gravir. Une
fois nous avons fait trente-deux lieues en bicycle, en
montant et descendant des collins. Vos histoires me
plaisent beaucoup, et l'arriv6e du ST. NICHOLAS est
toujours un plaisir pour moi. J'aime "Decatur and Som-
ers beaucoup. Jevous souhaite une bonne annee, en
restant votre lectrice interess6e.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I want to write and tell you
about a house-garden which I own. I have it in a small
room in the back part of the house. This room has two
windows with broad window seats. In one window I
have a large box containing violets. In the other window
I have geraniums and heliotrope. I water my flowers
every day, and they afford me much pleasure. When I
go to the hospital I take some flowers and your famous
magazine with me. All the children at the hospital are
crazy about you, and on the twenty-fifth of each month
I take'you to them.
I am your faithful friend and interested reader,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have taken you ever since
1886, and enjoy reading you very much. I have read
all of your continued stories and enjoyed them all.
There is an old lady in our neighborhood who is an in-
valid and just stays in a large chair; and as she loves to
read, I take you over to her, and she likes your stories
very much. I am your constant reader,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I was twelve years old on the
fourteenth of this month, and for a birthday present papa
took me to visit Helen Keller, about whom I had read in
ST. NICHOLAS. I talked to her by putting her fingers
to my lips while I spoke, and she talked to me like any-
one else, only it took me a little while to get used to her
pronunciation. Before I went away I could understand
all she said perfectly.
I told her that I played golf, and she said, That is a
Greek game, is it not? and then, at her teacher's re-
quest, told the story of Hyacinthus, who was killed by
Apollo with a discus while playing.
She read Tennyson's "The Brook" for me from one of
her volumes printed in raised letters, and she said that
she liked many books which I had also read, such as
"Little Women," "Little Lord Fauntleroy," "David
Copperfield," and A Tale of Two Cities."
I do not know what impressed me the most, but I have
thought a great deal about my visit, and the idea that she
canknow so little ofwhat is disagreeable andwicked seems
very beautiful to me. She of course knows nothing
but kindness from those who have taken care of her, and
what she has read has been so carefully selected that her
idea of the world must be a charming one.
Sincerely your friend, ELEANOR A. H- .


DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am sure that all of your
readers have known the verses of Mary's Little Lamb "
some time, though I suppose that the greater number of
them now consider themselves too grown up to care for
I wonder how many of them know that Mary and her
little lamb both lived and grew up like all other little
girls and little lambs.
Her name was Mary Sawyer, and she was born March
22, 18o6, in the pretty town of Sterling, in Worcester
County, Massachusetts.
When she was still a little girl, her father brought into
the house a little lamb which was sick and almost dead.
Mary wanted the little thing, and she took such good and
tender care of it that it soon became well and strong.
It became very much attached to its little mistress and
wished to be wherever she was.
At this time Mary went to school at the district school-
house with the other farmers' children. One day the lamb
followed her to the school-house and walked into school
behind her. It greatly amused the children as well as
the teacher.
That day John Rollstone, a young student, was visit-
ing the school. A few days after this, as Mary was
coming out of school, he rode up to the door and handed
her a slip of paper on which were written the first two
verses of the rhyme which we all know. These were
afterward added to by some one else.
The lamb grew to be quite old and was at last killed by
a cow.
Mary's mother made her a pair of stockings out of the
lamb's snowy fleece.
Mary afterward became Mrs. Tyler, and lived in Somer-
ville, near Boston. She had always kept the stockings.
About this time there was a talk about tearing down
the Old South Church in Boston, and some ladies had a
fair to raise money to save it.
And Mary Tyler, who was then an old lady, raveled
out the stockings, cut the yarn into little pieces, and
fastening each piece on a card, she wrote on every one
of them herself. They were sold at the fair and brought
in a large sum of money in aid of The Old South Church.
Annt Mary was a dear old lady, and all the ST. NICHO-
LAS boys and girls would like to have seen her and her
beautiful home in Somerville. She died December Io,
1889, at the age of eighty-three years.
We take the ST. NICHOLAS and like it very much.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS : I am a resident of the Crescent
I would like to tell you about Mardi Gras. You know
of course, that Mardi Gras means Fat Tuesday--well,
every year in New Orleans it is celebrated. This year,
Monday, the day before Mardi Gras, King Rex came in,
and then at night there was a lovely parade, which we all
enjoyed very much. We watched the procession pass by
from the gallery of the Boston Club, down on Canal street.
Tuesday morning there was another procession. But
at night the procession was simply grand. The subject
was "Old Songs"; some of the floats were "Coming
through the Rye," "Gaily the Troubadour," "In the
Merry Month of May." This last float was very pretty;
in the center of it was a May pole with long ribbons, and
a dozen boys and girls dressed in old-fashioned costumes
were holding them and dancing around the pole. Another
was the "Mistletoe Bough "--I suppose you have all
heard this sad story, and if you have not you had better
run and ask your mama or papa to tell you. But the

float that was most interesting to us was Dixie." On
this float in front were several large bales of cotton, on
which were lounging several men with black masks on
who looked like negroes; in the center,raised a little above
the rest, was growing some sugar-cane that looked very,
natural; last, but not least, on the back of the float were
four or five enormous oranges, about a foot in diameter.
These, of course, were not natural. The band also
marched in front of the float and played the air of
There were either nineteen or twenty floats, and the
last one was "Home, Sweet Home."
A great many people went home as soon as the pro-
cession was over, but my friends and I waited till a great
deal of the crowd had dispersed, and then we went home.
That night we were so tired that for once we were will-
ing to go to bed, and we did not want to get up Wed-
nesday morning and go to school, but we were obliged to.
To speak about yourself, my dear ST. NICHOLAS, I
must say I don't think I could do without you. I am a
great book worm and would read all day if Mama would
let me; but it does not matter how interesting a book
may be, if Papa comes in with you, I always leave it as
quick as a flash and take you away from him before he
has set his foot in the door, and begin to read you.
We had a snow-storm on St. Valentine's Day, which
was the deepest snow that the people of New Orleans had
ever seen. It snowed about twelve hours, and the average
depth was ten inches. Everybody turned out, for some
of the people had never seen any snow before, and they
nearly went crazy over it. I was as much excited as
any of them, though I had been born in Tennessee and
had seen snow every year of my life until I came to New
Orleans. It stayed on the ground for four days, and we
all enjoyed going out in it. I had a great deal of fun
myself, snowballing everybody that passed and getting
snowballed myself.
Your loving reader, VIRGINIA N-

We thank the young friends whose names follow for
pleasant letters received:-Julia M., MaryP., Charles J. 0.,
Nancy L., Theodore D. R., Harriet E. S., Lizzie W. B.,
Everett T., Marion C. H., Julia B. F., Caroline De F. P.,
H. G. H., M. Y., Mary S., Hope W., Ruth P., Bess and Su
B., Mabel S., Rebecca P., Helen W., Miner S.,Marjory F.
H., 'Helene M., J. B. C., N. B. H., Louis S.,Jr., Louis
G. H., Caroline M. J., Nan V., Eugene T. W., Kate,
Harold E. J., Mary S. P., Eleanor McC., Lena H.,
Mattie, H. F., Nellie M., D. Clifford J., Benj. A. L.,
Frank W., Ruth and Johnny C., May A., Charlie H.,
Anna A. H., Ewing R., Lizzie L. W., Mabel W., Mary
E., Frankie S., Helen W., Fred W., Harold H., E. L. T.,
Emma H., Bertha G. M., St. George K.,Jr., Jane C. B.,
H. J. G., Marguerite H., W. H. J., Susan G., Edith L.,
Mabel R., M. M. M., E. Jackson T., Edith B. H., Vir-
ginia N., L. E., Irene R., Nannie L., Fannie C. P.,
Louis H. H. W., Ida and Jessie W., Ethelred B., Bessie
N., Marie B., Gladys J., Vida V., Alice J., Agnes Ethel
C., Louis T. H., Howard P. B., Russell W. C., Helen
G. B., Irene B., Olive M. L., Dorothy B., Louise G. C.
and Elizabeth T. B., Blanche E. P., Florence E. T., G.
Stanley S., Rosabelle B. N.; Clotilde, Nelson B. W., Sue
J., Harriet E. L., Charles T. M., Laura E. 0., Carlton
T. B., Lulu and Clarice H., Margaret D., Katharine P.,
Rose A. C., Maud W. N., T. A. P., Clara K., Mabel B.,
Francis J. H., Helen S. C., Edgar G., Alice N., Gypsey
M., Nellie M. C., Alexander S., Sidney L. S., F. H.,
Judith H., Maurice, M. O., Nannie A. N., Harry H. T.,
Donald H., Clara M. J., Virginia W., Marguerite and
May, Florence G., Guy G., Philip E., Hazel S., M. E. D.,
Harriet P. F., Jean R., Edna R., Gladys K., Cora M. B.,
M. C. Annzella P., May W.




fly. 2. Elk. 3. Flamingo. 4. Owl. 5. Eagle.
ZIGZAG. Sir William Wallace. Cross-words: I Solid. 2. Sigma.
3. Orris. 4. Crawl. 5. Chili. 6. Fable. 7. Helot. 8. Jiffy. 9. Above
to. Impel. i. Gowan. 12. Cleat. 13. Swell. 14. Dwell. 15. Roach.
16. Ochre. 17. Erato.
Pi. Birds are noisy,-bees are humming,
All because the May is coming;
All the tongues of Nature shout,
Out from town, from cities out!
Out from every busy street!
Out from every darkened court!
Through the field-paths let your feet
Lingering go in pleasant thought!
DRESS MATERIALS. I. Cambric. 2. Percale. 3. Satin. 4. Buck-
ram. 5. Cashmere. 6. Henrietta. 7. Muslin. 8. Organdie. 9. Brocade.
WORD-SQUARE. i. Trace. 2. Redan. 3. Adorn. 4. Carte.
5. Ennew.

A VARIETY OF GATES. I. Irrigate. 2. Abrogate. 3. Delegate.
4. Subjugate. 5. Surrogate. 6. Fumigate. 7. Variegate. 8. Miti-
gate. 9. Vulgate. to. Agate. l. Arrogate. 12. Derogate.
DOUBLE AcROSTIC. Primals, crocodile; finals, chameleon. Cross-
words: I. Cubic. 2. Rajah. 3. Omega. 4. Charm. 5. Obole.
6. Drill. 7. Indue. 8. Limbo. 9. Ellen.
A FLIGHT OF STAIRS. i. Cat. 2. Catsup.3. Supper. 4. Per-
mit. 5. Mitten. 6. Tendon. 7. Donate. 8. Ate
DOUBLE DIAGONALS. Juvenal and Terence. Cross-words: i. Ja-
conet. 2. Aurated. 3. Reverie. 4. Mileage. 5. Tenancy. 6. Scandal.
7. Empearl.
CONNECTED SQUARES. I. i. Camp. 2. Aloe./3. Moor. 4. Pert.
II. i. Carp. 2. Area. 3. Real. 4. Palm.
RHYMING BLANKS. Fair, rare, care, stair, swear, bear, tear, wear,
spare, dare, hair, bare, pair, flare, glare, where, mare, air, there, fare,
stare, pear, blare, bear, hare, square.

To OUR PUZZLERS: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the 15th of each month, and should
be addressed to ST. NICHOLAS "Riddle-box," care of THE CENTURY CO., 33 East Seventeenth St., New York City.
ANSWERS TO ALL THE PUZZLES IN THE MARCH NUMBER were received, before March i5th, from Lord Clive,"-Sigourney Fay
Nininger-L. O. E.-Josephine Sherwood-J. Chapman and J. Fletcher-S. L. B.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE MARCH NUMBER were received, before March a5th, from Frederick Shoemaker, 2-Pauline, i-
"Berwyners," 2- Emilie Wise, I Frederick G. Foster, I G. B. Dyer, xo- No Name, Phila., 4 Beatrice Livingston, 3- Kenneth
and Arlene, i-Arthur G. Corey, r--E. H. and J. W. H. Jr., I--Davila S. Du Brul, 2-No Name, Ohio St., --Ned Strouse, I-
Margaret Carter, i -Mary K. Raise, I- Louisa Beal Barker, 2--Calla A. Guyles, i-No Name, Pittsburgh, I- Owen Thomas, -
Rella Miriam Low, 3-Mabel Hamlin, I--Bessie and Lottie Cutting, --No Name, New Castle, I--C. N. Briggs, 2-Grace C.
Webster, r- Louise M. Roe, -S. W. F. and F. B. F., 6- Frank and Bryse, 4- Elizabeth B. Fay, x Fanny B. Ritchey, i Mar-
garet Tupper, 2-"Samantha," Mary Paul Mase, Edith Nesmith, Virginia Watson, Eleanor Hayward, Sara and
Mabel, i Mary Kent, 4- C. T. G. and E. C. F., 3- Rhoda Braddock, Emma M. Smith, 2-"Rasty H.," 5- Graham Crume, 2-
George Bancroft Fernald, i--M. F. Lawton, I-Arthur D. Fiske, I-" Breeze Lawn," 4-Leah Dreyfus, 3-"Kitty Clover," I-
"Midget," 1o-W. B. Gill, x-Paul Reese, i --Eugene Thorne Walter, 2-Elizabeth, New Haven, i-Roland Bettman, 3-Har-
old Raymond, i-Wni. E. Suddath, x- Harriet, 4-Bernice and Bessie Bell, 2-Ethel Swire, 3-Carolyn T. Salisbury, Frederic
Calhoun, 2-John Merchant, 3-Oskytel H. C., 2-Kenneth Lewis, 3-Elisha S. Chapin, Jr., i-V. D. Schaefer, 3-Grace L.
Black, Genevieve Still, Beatrice and Constance Banker, I- J. A. K., Helen S. Coates, 7- Constance S., 2 -" Roselyn
Chips," 4 -Carrie and Philip, --Effie K. Talboys, 6--Mabel Riney, i-"Jess," 9-Mary Wilson, 7-"New Boy," 7-Gwendo-
lyn G. W. Williams, i-W. L., 1o-Gertrude Rutherford, i- Muriel, Winnie, and Lisle, 3-Robert B. Farson, Jr., 3-Katharine
Dent Hull, 3-A. C. S., 4- Laura and Virginia, i-"Another Three," 2-H. B. S., 6--Clara A. Anthony, 6--Charles Dwight
Reid, 7-Marie Louise Abbott, 2-Alice Juhring, I-Ben, Jim, and Aunt Jack, 6-Adelaide M. Gaither, 4-Ella and Co., Ir-
"Highmount Girls," I Ralph W. Kiefer, I W. Putnam, 3 -C. McC. L., 9- Victor J. West, 2 Mama and Sadie, 9- Nelson B.
Weeks, 4 Clotilde, 3- Donald L. and Isabel H. Noble, ir Odiorne Hatch, 2-No Name, Nicetpwn, 2-" Viele, Merson and Co.," 7 -
E. A. J. Schmitt, 9-Kathryn Lyon, 6-Walter L. Haight, o--Azro and Charles Lewis, 4-W. A. B. and F. J., 3-Richard M. and
S amuel J. Gummere, 4 Florence Szegedy, i Webb and Co., to -" Brownies," 6 Franklyn Farnsworth, so Marjory Gane, 6 Mar-
guerite Sturdy, 3 -Merry and Co., 9 Marian Stoner, i Edith H. Whitehead, i Charles Remington Adams, 9 Grandma, Uncle, and
Florence, 8- Mama, Gracie, and Minnie, 8 M. L. L., i Philip Ehni, 2 Helen Rogers, Edward Wilson Wallace, 6 Bob Bright, 5
-Jo and I, ro Mary Lester and Harry, 8 Albert S. Taught, 4- Daisy Alien, 4- V. B. and A. H. Jacobs, ai Anna B. Eisen-
hower, 7- Charles Travis, 6 -Sadie W. Hubbard, 4-Katharine and Henry Parmly, 2 -Edward C. Tatnall, "Hill Top Farm," I -
"Embla," 9-Anna M. Davenport, 3- Margaret A. H., Marian G. Dowling and. Mattie N. Ward, T-Two Little Brothers, ro-
"Yale," 5- Norman and Mama, 6 -Laura M. Zinser, 5 Bernard Breeden, 3-" Arbutus," x Karl G. Smith, 2.-Mary Rake, No
Name, Back Bay, 8-Mabel Snow and Dorothy Swinburne, --"The Butterflies," 7-M. R. K., 2-Sybil Palgrave, 2-Alfred
Sauter, I.

OCTAGON. The common European cuttlefish. o1. A piece of music
I. AN ancient engine of war. 2. Extremely violent. of a mournful character. 11. To take to graze or pas-
3. To continue in a place. 4. A midshipman. 5. The ture, at a certain sum. 12. To attempt. 13. To make
governor of Algiers. "SAMUEL SYDNEY." brown. 14. A letter. GEORGE L. HOSEA.

I. I. IN nosegay. 2. To carry. 3. A witch. 4. An
abridged account. 5. A very large man. 6. Skill. 7.
S.In nosegay.
II. I. In knife. 2. To free from. 3. Ran swiftly.
. 4. An invented story. 5. To consider worth notice.
S6. To put on. 7. In knife. F. o. R.

ALL of the words described contain the same number
of letters. When these are rightly guessed, and placed
Sone below another, in the order here given, the zigzag,
beginning at the upper left-hand letter, will spell the
... name given to one of the European powers.
... CRoss-WORDS : I. Part ofan organ. 2. To subscribe.
3. A plant extensively cultivated in warm countries.
4. Eight quarts. 5. An indefinite quantity. 6. A por-
tion. 7. A number. 8. Ameasureoflength. 9. A fissure.
I. A LETTER. 2. The goddess of revenge. 3. A nar- o1. Unyielding courage. 11. To repeat in sound. 12. To
rative. 4. A mistake. 5. In India, a measure of dis- cause to rise. 13. To catch sight of. 14. A measure
tance, of about five miles. 6. Scraped together. 7. A of length. 15. To be overbusy about trifles. 16. A
beverage named after its first maker. 8. Deceived. 9. conspiracy. GEORGE B. FERNALD.




THE central picture in the above illustration may be
described by a word of five letters. From these five
letters thirteen words may be formed, to describe the
thirteen small pictures.


MY first is to repair, or make as good as new;
My second is a letter dear to each of us.
My third is what you know all hypocrites will do;
My whole is one of those who oft beseech of us.
And should you give old clothes to the poor soul,
Add buttons, thread, and needles to your dole,
Or else my whole can say to you my whole.


FILL each of the seventeen blanks with the name of
a tree.
Last summer we had a pleasant trip to the My
sister, who deserves the for early rising, as she is
always up at five, called the rest of us.
After making ourselves look as as possible, we
started. It was cool enough for capes, but we did
not for the heat we knew would come later.
Dinner was an important feature of the day. We had
clam chowder, a -- of chickens, pie, cake,
and other good things. An taken occasionally gave
relish to all.
Our conversation turned on heroes, and my little
brother said he admired Old more than any other
president. We gathered daisies and roses. I never
thought it possible that a grow so close to salt
Before starting for home we all signed our names in

the hotel register. We used a pencil, which we thought
as good and ink. Driving home, along the shore
of the -, we watched the beautiful sunset. Regardless
of propriety, most of us were chewing all the way,
but no one seemed to care a -.
I was the one to settle the driver's exorbitant bill, and
now my sisters me some money for weeks to come.


MY primals and my finals spell the Christian name
and surname of a very famous American.
CROSS-WORDS: I. Roughly frank. 2. To penetrate.
3. A Persian wheel. 4. A famous country of the East.
5. An exclamation of sorrow. 6. A reward of merit.
7. The tribe over which Boadicea reigned. 8. A month
of the Jewish year. c. c. N.



BY starting at a certain letter, and following a certain
regular path, three familiar proverbs may be spelled.







.A .
k,* 1

-- I t

f f
I itk~El ~-~-t
cis SII ~ II

N'~s ,- 4

/ C~

I --

w" l~lit 'N

$1 -. N. -

f/j~%~ -S

hi 1

-- ~----=-

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