Front Cover
 A battle on wheels
 Carrier-pigeons of Santa Catal...
 The dragonfly's ball
 A boy of the first empire
 Nancy's nightmare
 Jack Ballister's fortunes
 The ship of the plains
 A philanthropist
 Hero-tales from American histo...
 Tommy's alphabet
 Teddy and carrots: Two merchants...
 The grumpity man
 An onteora visitor
 Our moose, elk, and deer
 Twelve dollars for one
 The secret of success
 Fair play
 Antwerp and "old antwerp"
 The sea
 A real air-castle
 The kittens' picnic: A rhyme for...
 Rhymes of the states
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 Back Cover

Title: St. Nicholas
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00301
 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: VID00301
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 882
    A battle on wheels
        Page 883
        Page 884
        Page 885
        Page 886
        Page 887
        Page 888
        Page 889
        Page 890
    Carrier-pigeons of Santa Catalina
        Page 891
        Page 892
        Page 893
        Page 894
        Page 895
        Page 896
        Page 897
    The dragonfly's ball
        Page 898
        Page 899
        Page 900
        Page 901
        Page 902
    A boy of the first empire
        Page 903
        Page 904
        Page 905
        Page 906
        Page 907
        Page 908
        Page 909
        Page 910
        Page 911
    Nancy's nightmare
        Page 912
    Jack Ballister's fortunes
        Page 913
        Page 914
        Page 915
        Page 916
        Page 917
        Page 918
        Page 919
        Page 920
        Page 921
    The ship of the plains
        Page 922
        Page 923
        Page 924
    A philanthropist
        Page 925
    Hero-tales from American history
        Page 926
        Page 927
    Tommy's alphabet
        Page 928
    Teddy and carrots: Two merchants of newspaper row
        Page 929
        Page 930
        Page 931
        Page 932
    The grumpity man
        Page 933
    An onteora visitor
        Page 934
        Page 935
        Page 936
        Page 937
        Page 938
    Our moose, elk, and deer
        Page 939
        Page 940
        Page 941
        Page 942
        Page 943
        Page 944
        Page 945
    Twelve dollars for one
        Page 946
        Page 947
        Page 948
        Page 949
    The secret of success
        Page 950
    Fair play
        Page 951
    Antwerp and "old antwerp"
        Page 952
        Page 953
        Page 954
        Page 955
        Page 956
    The sea
        Page 957
    A real air-castle
        Page 958
        Page 959
    The kittens' picnic: A rhyme for very little folk
        Page 960
        Page 961
    Rhymes of the states
        Page 962
            Page 962
        Indian territory
            Page 963
    The letter-box
        Page 964
        Page 965
        Page 966
    The riddle-box
        Page 967
        Page 968
        Page 969
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text

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(SEE PAGE 888.)

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I.-THE HOMERIC STORY OF PIERRE DEBONAIR. Those who would sing of heroic adventure.
Boldly I '11 try, though the task may be hard,
SINCE days of old, To rival the fame of the old Greek bard,
When Homer told And tell, not in golden, but diamond-dust,
Of heroes of iron in words of gold, meter,
The world has rarely been tempted to censure The tale of the young and adventurous Peter.
Copyright, 1895, by THE CENTURY CO. All rights reserved.

No. 11.

884 A BATTLE (

His name was n't Peter, but Pierre -De-
His grandfather hailed from Marseilles--
or somewhere -
And, long years ago, had come here to reside
In the New England village of North
Pierre was a youngster both active and
His hair was as dark as his spirits were light.
In numerous ways he had shown from the
His intention of proving uncommonly smart.
To be sure, when a baby, he gurgled and
As all babies do while they 're callow and
Yet, even at that time, his knowing black eyes
Seemed to say, with a wink meditatively wise,



That he felt the absurdity of his position,
But infant traditions compelled his submission.
He proved to his nurse that an overshoe



Fully equal her finger to teethe on and bite,
And he learned how to walk in a very short
By stiffening his ankles with plaster and
As his mind blossomed out,
There was no longer doubt
That the seed of true genius had started to
He shone at his lessons, he glittered at play;
He could handle a tool in a marvelous way.
The neighbors would tell you of things he
had made,
That threw the town carpenter quite in the
Toy-carts and water-wheels, cages and traps,
Churns that were managed by pulleys and
Sleds fixed on rollers, for midsummer-time,
Burglar-proof hencoops, for lessening crime.
They related the most incredible tales
Of curious flails and bails and scales,
And they wisely said,
With a shake of the head,
"That boy is a genius, or we are misled!"

Now, genius is never a liberal crop.
At times the production seems almost to
Talent and skill
Are plentiful still;.
If one has n't talent, he can acquire skill;
But genius, which makes the world's hom-
age its due,
Is not won, but given,- and given to few.
.The Temple of Fame may be well filled
with people,
But not very many are up in the steeple.
When you 've named over Hannibal, Plato,
and Poe,
Bacon, Confucius, and M. Angelo,
Bonaparte, Phidias, Shakspere, and Bach,
Newton and Caesar, Watt, Goethe, and
And three or four others, you '11 find you
have missed
Remarkably few you can add to the list.
Nay, more, as our civilization grows higher,
We seem to be losing the.heaven-breath'd


This grave dissertation is somewhat aside,
But it shows why the people of North Iodide
Each and all felt a kind of municipal pride
In our promising hero, and gazed, open-
At every ingenious invention he tried.

Which leads me to mention
The special invention
To which I desire to invite your attention.

The town had kept pace
With Improvement's mad race,
And boasted three bicycles owned in the place.
All three, it is true, had been bought second-


And one a high wheel of an obsolete brand;
They had been so upset and so battered
And twisted, and buckled, and turned inside
That they hobbled and groaned like a duke
with the gout.
But what mattered that? They were peerless
in town;
And three youthful riders looked airily down
On the rest of the boys, and delighted to dub
Themselves the "North Iodide Bicycle Club."

learned to ride
The high wheel, when he tried;
But an unlooked-for header demolished his
And he thoughtfully said, with a rub of his
"What a top-heavy place for the saddle to be!"
A thought that most riders are prone to
But once largely shared by all knights of the

Now Pierre showed his greatness. Not
being content

P .

I'- ; \ ^' t"'\I

S'' ;'I n .I t, ,,
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To merely point out such an evil, he bent,
For days, both his brows and his energies
Devising some plan for removing the trouble.
He felt very sure that the seat should be moved,
But could n't see how it could well be

'T was a beautiful day,
Toward the middle of May,
And the "N. I. B. C." wheeled serenely
Pierre lingered near, at the "meet" and the


No lower along the backbone could it go,
Nor in front of the wheel, nor one side, nor below.
But-ha! his eyes beam!-
What a dazzling scheme!
Wlhy not make a great wheel, that's too high
to bestride,
And place both the saddle and rider inside

A whisper of genius! The thing shall be tried!
To make my story fleeter
I 'd try a shorter meter;
But verse, like a spider, runs faster, you know,
The more feet it has, and the quicker they go.

With face all excitement, and fast-beating
Then turned, and went eagerly hastening
The street to his home, just outside of the
He made a stop
At the blacksmith's shop;
And you should have seen that worthy drop
His hammer and apron, and clap on his
As soon as he heard what Pierre was at.
Some mysterious plot's under way!
Farce or tragedy? Who can say?



With footsteps hurried, and voices low,
Down past the house to the barn they go.
In at the doorway vanishes Pierre;
The other continues around to the rear,
And the sound of a hammer soon reaches
his ear.
Two planks in the wall,
Standing upright and tall,
Knocked loose from within, lean,-- totter,--
then fall!
Through the high, narrow opening, darkness
is seen;
Till, slow and stately, imposing in mien,
Rolls grandly forth an astounding machine!
Which the blacksmith saves from a sudden

Verily genius has made its mark!
The flame has burst out from the
tilnn \ smouldering spark!

A wheel, tall and slim,
About ten feet or higher,
With light iron rim
And a pneumatic
s- tire;




Spokes to another circle inside,
Concentric, but smaller,-with rim an inch
In this was a saddle, so hung as to swing,
Somewhat like a toy horse inside a tin ring,
And, with pedals and driving-gear, light,
firm and strong,
Keep level and straight while the wheel rolled

To Silas, the blacksmith, a shrewd-witted
Pierre, as it seems, had confided his plan.
Si had once read of a similar affair,
Which served his conservative mind to pre-
So the wonderful scheme made a convert of
And the couple shook hands and went at it
with vim.
Like dark, deadly Anarchists, desperate Rus-
Plotting in secrecy social concussions,
The two conspirators, stealthy and sly,
Would meet at odd moments, when no one
was by,
Labor and time and material spending,
Working and forging and cutting and bending.
As fast as the pieces were fitted and done,
Pierre took them down to his barn, one by
He entrenched the south end with a high
wall of hay;
Took a part of the flooring
above him away;
And there, one night, in the
pleasant spring weather,
-S--- They met and they put the
contrivance together.

And now, it stood, the fruit of endeavor,
"A thing of beauty, a joy forever! "

"There! remarked Pierre, we 'll give
folks a rub!
When that gets a-going, with me in the
Good-by to the Iodide Bicycle Club!"
"I reckon," grinned Si, "it '11 give 'em a
scare! "


And out to the roadside they wheel it with
Pierre mounts a fence, and then climbs to
the seat,

Grasps the great steering-bar, pedals his feet,
And Silas shoves,
And the huge disk moves!
Revolving, while Pierre sits erect in his pride,
Quite slowly at first, while his friend walks
Then faster and faster the pedals are plied,
And more and more swiftly the wheel learns
to glide,
Till the hurrying Silas ceased running and
"Good-by! Now scare 'em in Iodide !"
"All right!" shouted Peter; "we 'II teach
folks to ride! "

Of that easy, secure, indescribable motion,
A man on a bicycle has n't a notion.

Pierre thrilled with joy from his sole to his
As he bowled smoothly onward and entered
the town.

A boy saw him coming, and
gave a wild shout.
Four or five others looked
quickly about,
And at once, as it seemed, the
entire population
Rushed out, and stood gazing,
Sin great consternation;
Each lodidian
Staring in fear
At the rolling meridian,-
Staring in fear, till he recognized
Then joining with zeal in the
gathering cheer!
Like Caesar returning in triumph
to Rome,
Our hero rode on through the
streets of his home,
Enjoying the fruit of his glad-
dest ambitions,
Receiving the plaudits of plebs
and patricians.

But on! there 's a battle of
wheels yet to gain!
The mob follows after, but fol-
lows in vain.
On through the outskirts he quickens his
Far up the still road, till the crowd fades
from sight.
Yet, long after leaving the town, he can hear
The eddying waves of that echoing cheer.

Great generals, facing the field to be fought,
On yesterday's victory waste little thought.
Thus Pierre presses on, with his eye to the
He shatters the nerves of a dozen or more
Wholly unprepared wayfarers, passes the mill,
And comes to the brow of a long, straight
There they are! Far ahead and below, he
can see


The slow-moving wheels of the Exclusive
The N. I. B. C."
There is his battle-field!
"My !" chuckles he,
"To think how Sammy and Buck and Isaac '11
Howl, when they 're whipped by a one-
wheeled bicycle!"

And Pierre is caught up, and goes whirl-
ing around,
With his saddle and all, in the fast-turning
Head over heel,
In a mad, dizzy reel.
The brake had locked tight the parts swing-
ing erect,

Down the long steep he coasts on like the But instead of the speed of the rim being
wind, checked,
Leaving a long trail of dust far behind, As he seemed to expect,
Till the furious speed makes the ground Those parts were set spinning with fearful
seem to shake, effect;
And he hastily- fatefully -claps on the And the wheel with its captive, past tree,.
brake. fence and hedge,
Look! Quick! What has happened? A Plunges on down the road, like a whirl-
sharp, sudden sound, wind on edge.



To plan such a brake
Was a dreadful mistake
For that smart but unpractised inventor to

The true Buddhist longs
Which whirls all existence

to escape trans-

in changeful ro-


But poor Pierre, in desire to get out of a wheel,
Now surpassed the fanatical Hindoo in zeal;
For if one header 's bad enough, what 's
your impression
Of five hundred headers in rapid succession ?

The bicycle trio are toiling along,
Beguiling the journey with laughter and song,
When they hear a strange whirr, give a
startled look back,

And see a great weird, whirling spook on
their track.
Their terrified cycles to both sides they
Buck seeks the bushes, and Sam tries the
While Ike strains ahead, in a panic-struck
Like a badly-scared chicken in front of a

Quem deus vult perdere, prius dementat,
To judge from the maddening rate that
Pierre went at,-
An Ixion, doomed to unending gyrations!
A modern Mazeppa, with slight variations!

But "it 's darkest near dawn,'" is a truth
well expressed.
As the circling specter sweeps down on the
There 's a snap, and a spring, and a bounce,
and a tear,
And Pierre is hurled out, with a turn in
Just where, in his fall, he can luckily strike
Square on the back of the horrified Ike!

Grand collapse of the boys and the "bike"!
While the wheel rushes riderless on down the
The fight 's done. The boys found
That their bones were all sound,
But it took Pierre a week to get fully un-
Some of these days, the world will yet hear
Of our young Down-East genius in full career.

The Wheel ? Well, if country-side legends
are true,
It was caught on the fly by the Wander-
ing Jew,
And has thus met the fate that I feared for
my rhyme,-
To roll on and on, to the last end of time!





SOME twenty miles off the coast
of southern California lies the island
of Santa Catalina. On the maps it
S is shaped somewhat like a giant's
S footprint. From the mainland
5 it appears to be an exquisite
S blue cloud, floating lightly and
gracefully on the water.
Approaching the island we find
it t6 consist of a very substantial
mass of mountain peaks, more or
less waving elevations, and green
cautions; the coast-line is bordered
with verdure-covered knolls which
slip gently into the sea, and with
rugged cliffs and precipices which rise for a
thousand feet or more. Here and there, be-
tween the cliffs and knolls, are to be found
the most charming half-moon bays and dimi-
nutive valleys; and in one of these valleys lies
the quaint little town of Avalon the favorite
sea-side resort of southern California.
Except on special occasions a single steamer
each way daily is the only regular means of
getting to and from this isle of the Pacific, and
there is no cable to send messages. Thus, in
this our electrical day and generation, there was
a colony of from 3000 to 5000 people at sea, in
more ways than one, since they were without
means of getting word to or from the mainland
for twenty-four hours at a time!
If some little mite of royalty should get the

mumps or the measles, in less than sixty min-
utes the entire civilized world might know it,
but Catalina island, just off the California coast,
might then have sunk with all on board some
foggy morning, and not a living soul would have
known anything about it for a whole day after-
Sometimes the situation which confronted
the island visitor, as in the event of accident or
sudden illness, was a serious one indeed, while
the inconveniences and annoyances to which
nearly everybody at one time or another was
subject were almost limitless.
How often would one hear exclamations
such as these: "Oh, dear! there goes the
boat, and I never thought to send word to
Robby to be sure and bring his overcoat. The
evenings are so very cool now, he '11 catch his
death of cold "I 'd give five hundred dol-
lars," declared a gentleman well known in the
financial world, "if there was any way of get-
ting word to Los Angeles before three o'clock
this afternoon."
Such was the condition of affairs when, one
morning, two enterprising lads in Los Angeles
were discussing the situation.
"Why not carrier-pigeons ?" said one.
It was an inspiration. The face of the other
grew radiant, while two words of Sanscrit or
some occult tongue escaped his lips. They
were: Gee whiz! "- and the thing was as
good as done.





* #4


The boys had already been interested in the
pigeon industry, and so began at once the sys-
tem of training necessary to render a certain
number of their birds available message-bearers
to and from Catalina island.
How do you fasten the message to the
bird? "
"Will the same pigeon fly both ways ? "
"Why do you fasten that bit of paper to his
tail ?"
"How do you get the message from the
bird ? Does he bring it to you ? "
Does n't the pigeon ever pick the message
"Won't any kind of a pigeon do for a carrier ?"
Don't they get very tired going so far ?"
"Oh, look at that funny little ring on his
leg What is that for? "

Well, the variety of questions asked by the
spectators from day to day, when the birds were
about to be liberated, would certainly fill a half-
dozen pages of ST. NICHOLAS.
It is quite impossible to answer here even a
generous proportion of these inquiries, or of
those that will naturally occur to many of my
readers who may be unfamiliar with the habits
of the intelligent homer."
It must be understood, however, that in cer-
tain pigeons, especially those known as the Bel-
gian variety, the homing instinct is developed
in a remarkable degree; and it is the birds' in-
tense love of home, and the almost unvarying
certainty of their return thither after having
been taken some distance away, and then re-
leased, which make them valuable as carriers.
The methods used in training a pigeon for

_~_Ille_ L _



special service are not by any means similar,
as many people seem to think, to those em-
ployed in teaching a dog to run after a stick,
or a white-spotted pony to dance the polka.
A carrier's education consists in conveying him
away from home, and letting him go, when he
simply flies back to the loft where he belongs.
This sounds almost as thrilling as the story
of the enterprising mouse that first ran up the
clock, and then ran down again; and of course
it conveys no idea of the immense amount of
care and patience involved in the rearing and

of a two-bit piece -a quarter -of a dollar.
Then they were carried to a spot a mile or so
from the loft, in a direct line for the coast and
Catalina, and released. A few days later, the
same birds were taken a greater distance away,
-say three or four miles from home, and lib-
erated. In this manner the several succeeding
journeys were gradually lengthened until San
Pedro, the seaport of Los Angeles, twenty-two
miles distant, was reached.
Then the pigeons were taken aboard the
steamer, and set at liberty a few miles out at


, : i.*--' .._.... ... .- '.
*, ,- .
-- ~, -- -
.' .

' ..." '- L V -" i


breeding of the birds -the special cultivation
of those qualities which produce the best re-
sults, and so on.
In training the birds for Catalina, three or
four were usually placed together in a paste-
board box, perforated with holes about the size

sea, increasing the distance upon the four oc-
casions that followed, until at last the end of
the route was reached, and the birds would fly,
without fail, across the sea and over the land
to their home.
While these birds were taking their first les-

. .-. -I-. .,


sons in geography, another set was being do-
mesticated on Catalina, and later were taught
by the same process to convey messages the
other way that is, from Los Angeles to
The message, when sent by the Catalina car-
riers, is always written on sheets of tissue-paper
four inches wide and ten inches long. Four
of these slips will contain
enough written matter to
fill a column or more of an
ordinary daily paper, by
which it will be seen that
the birds can carry a very
considerable amount of cor-
respondence. It may be
interesting to know that
during the Franco-German
war, when large numbers
of carrier-pigeons were em-
ployed with great success,
the messages were printed
by microphotography on
fine, waterproof films, by
which method an almost
incredible amount of cor-
respondence could be for-
warded by a single bird.
According to a French
newspaper, nearly two mil-
lion despatches were carried
by pigeons during the siege. -
The birds were taken out -
of Paris in balloons.
There are various meth-
ods of attaching the mes-
sage. After folding the written slips together
lengthwise in the middle, then over and over
three or four times, the whole may be rolled
up tightly into a drum-shaped pellet, secured
with a bit of twine, and then tied to the bird's
leg; or else the narrow folded slips may be
wound round and round the leg, exactly as
you would apply a bandage to a sore finger..
Sometimes the message is attached to the wing
or tail feathers, or fastened about the body of
the bird, but not always with the best results.
The well-known figure, on certain valentines,
of a huge envelope with "Love to Thee" in-
scribed thereon, the whole tied about the neck

of a dove with a yard or more, apparently, of
pale blue ribbon, is undoubtedly responsible for
the prevailing belief that this method is the one
generally employed. It was no uncommon thing
to have a man rush into the office with a yel-
low envelope, duly sealed and addressed, almost
as large as the pigeon itself, expecting the
bird to carry it (in his beak, probably) across

Si -_,

-i------ ..



the channel. After a few experiences of this
kind, the boys were not at all surprised when
somebody wanted to know if he could get a
bird to take over an umbrella for him.
The first message-bearer despatched from the
island was "Orlando." All the birds have
names, of which something will be said later.
Orlando is certainly a fine specimen of a
homing pigeon. He is a dark bluish gray in
color, with white-spotted wings, and an irides-
cent metallic luster on the neck, changing in
the light to coppery, purplish red. In short,
he is what is known in "pigeon English" as a
"blue checker." By grasping him firmly around



the body one can gain some idea of the mar-
velous strength and powers of endurance pos-
sessed by these messengers of the air. He
seems to be just a solid, weighty mass of hard
flesh and muscles.
There was great excitement among the isl-
anders when it became known that a carrier-
pigeon was to be despatched to Los Angeles
with the latest news from Catalina. While the
message was being attached, crowds of men
and women, children and dogs, .assembled at
the pigeon-loft on the wharf, and a perfect
bombardment of questions poured forth from
all directions.
During the operation Orlando never squirmed,
but submitted as good-naturedly as a horse to
his harness. When the little roll with its im-
portant communication had been fastened to the
bird's leg a ribbon of tissue-paper was gummed
to the uppermost feathers of his tail. This is
always done in order to prevent the carriers
from being selected as victims by pot-hunters
or thoughtless sportsmen.
The ceremony ended, Orlando was placed in
a cage, which was sometimes used for the pur-
pose, and carried across the street in front of
the Hotel Metropole, the entire crowd, dogs
and all, trooping along.
When the lid of the cage was raised it was
apparent that its occupant did not realize the
importance of the occasion. He seemed in
no hurry to go, but peered cautiously over
the edge of the cage at first, and then looked
around with evident surprise into the faces of
the spectators, as if he wondered what all the
fuss was about, and who was responsible for it.
But suddenly, quick as a flash, he flew up
into the air. A murmur of exclamation arose
from the multitude, and every head was lifted
"There he is over by the pavilion."
"Why, he 's going the wrong way i" "Where
is he now ? shouted one and another.
Orlando had thus far been flying low, and
was soon lost to sight among the surrounding
hills. This led some wise one to declare that
the bird was on his way to Los Angeles, at
which the people began to scatter, thinking the
show was over. But in a moment a voice
cried out, There he is on the hotel! "

A laugh went up from the crowd. They
massed themselves together once more and
surged in a body around one corer of the
building. There, sure enough, was the missing
bird. He had approached the hotel from the
rear while he was being sought for in an oppo-
site direction.
Orlando was apparently making a most elab-
orate toilet before undertaking his flight across
the water.
There is quite a colony of ravens living on
the island. They are descendants of those
once in possession of the Indians who inhabited
Catalina hundreds of years ago, and who re-
garded the huge birds as sacred. Some half-
dozen of these inky-black creatures settled
themselves on the roof not far from the pigeon,
and gave vent to the most dismal cries imagin-
able. They seemed to be making all manner
of fun of the spruce little carrier.
But Orlando was not in the least disturbed.
Loose or misplaced feathers were carefully and
deliberately restored to their proper places,
rough ones were made smooth, and thus for
nearly ten minutes the preparations went on.
Then some one called out, There he goes!"
and the bird was seen to rise and circle round
and round the town, flying higher and higher
with each revolution until he became the merest
speck in the blue vault above. Then suddenly
he started in a bee-line for Sugar Loaf Point, in
the direction of Los Angeles, and was soon
lost to view, whereupon the heads and necks
of the interested lookers-on gradually subsided
into their natural and more comfortable positions.
The hour of Orlando's departure from the
island was carefully noted by one of the boys,
who was stationed at Avalon, while the bird's
arrival at Los Angeles was duly chronicled by
the other, who superintended that end of the
It is about fifty miles from Avalon to Los
Angeles, and three hours and a half are re-
quired to make the trip by boat and train.
Orlando accomplished the distance infifty-four
It was not often, during the weeks that fol-
lowed the inauguration of the carrier-pigeon
despatch, that the birds lit on the hotel or else-
where upon being released. When the weather



this year. The steamer left Avalon at 8 A. M.,
and about the middle of the afternoon a chron-
icle of the day's events was sent over by the
birds, and published the following morning in a
Los Angeles paper.
Once only the messengers refused to go.
This was about the time of the great railroad
strikes, and of course somebody had to suggest
that the birds had joined the union. They
started off promptly, went out for half a mile or
so, and then, to the amazement of all, suddenly
veered round and returned to the loft on the
wharf. It proved afterward that a curious elec-
tric storm was in progress at the time, in the
region round about Los Angeles, and the intel-
ligent homers wisely concluded to take no
chances. The next day the same birds were
despatched, and went off without a word."
Every youngster in either loft is duly num-
IB bered as soon as he is able to stand alone.
S' -The number, with the initials of the bird's
owner, is stamped on a little brass ring, which is
.. \ clasped about the pigeon's leg. Each number
refers to a corresponding one in a register
which records the date of hatching, pedigree,
''description, and so forth, of each pigeon.

was fine they usually started for
the opposite shore without delay;
but if the mainland was obscured
in fog they always circled about
the town, rising higher and higher,
until they were able to peer over
the fog-bank, and thus determine
the direction in which their food
and shelter and comrades lay.
It was very seldom that a
messenger was despatched alone.
There is danger of attacks from
hawks, and a hawk will not molest
two or more pigeons traveling in
company. .
For nearly three months, always
once, and sometimes three and four
times, per day, as the demand for ,-
private messages required, the car-
rier-pigeons were despatched from -, I'
Catalina, and with such success
that the service will be renewed FAT SAM.



The birds are provided with names, more or
less appropriate, as soon as they are-qualified
to become members of the service. Naturally
many Spanish names are employed, such as
"Del Mar (of the sea), Hermosa (beauti-
ful), "La Paloma" (the dove), "Ventura" (luck,
Birds of a decided reddish hue are known as
"Red Hawk," Red Racer," etc. A beautiful
creature with a glossy coat of silver which has
a fine record for speed came naturally by the
name of Quicksilver." A daughter of the
celebrated Philadelphia flyer "Theo," and a
son of a famous homer from the late Geo.
W. Childs's loft are called "Miss Theo," and
"G. W. Childs, Jr." Sugar Loaf" was named
from a familiar point at Avalon, and "Black
Jack from one .of Catalina's highest moun-
tains. Other names include Fleetwing,"
"Whitewings," "Flying Jib," etc.
Fat Sam belongs to one of the first fami-
lies of Antwerp and ought to lave been a
credit to the loft. It was quite bad enough
when he used to come in an hour or so behind
the others, but when he made a practice of
being from twenty-four to thirty-six hours late,
and once took a whole month's vacation right
in the busiest season, his career as a messen-
ger came to an end. He is now retained
in the loft as a sort of curio, and is not by
any means entitled to one half the attention he
Rags" is a "natural born" tramp. He
always comes in covered with dust as though
he had plodded along in the middle of the road
half the way from San Pedro.
"Blue Jim," a beautiful dark purplish bird,
and one of the swiftest messengers, was shot
while en route by some careless sportsman.

Blue Jim's untimely end recalls the sad fate
of a couple of carriers which a fancier, while
waiting at a hotel for his dinner, left in charge
of the landlord. The meal was duly served
and proved to be very enjoyable, especially a
savory fricassee. The man paid his bill and
then inquired for his pigeons.
Your pigeons ? exclaimed the landlord in
astonishment. "Why, sir, you have just eaten
them! "
Sometimes, as in the case of children who
fail to live up to their names, there occurs a
palpable misfit. "Vesta," for instance, was a
beautiful youngster, alert and graceful as one
could desire. She was of an exquisite terra-
cotta hue, such as might have been produced
by the light of the sacred fire which was
watched over and tended so faithfully by the
vestals of ancient Rome.
But as the goddess's namesake grew older
she became careless of her personal appearance,
and now her feathers are always askew, and her
lack of interest in the subject most deplorable.
While her comrades are carefully preening them-
selves upon returning from the trip, as every well-
bred pigeon should do, she appears to regard
the proceeding with the utmost disdain.
"Vesta" was once given up for lost. But
one day, nearly three weeks after her departure
from Catalina, she appeared at the home loft
with both wings clipped to the bone. She cer-
tainly had never looked more untidy or more
full of glee. How she had been entrapped,
why and by whom her wings had been clipped
- all the details of her slow, toilsome journey,
which must have been replete with thrilling
feather-breadth escapes, would doubtless make
a most exciting story, but there is no likelihood
that her adventures will ever be know.





ONE morn as I wandered in fresh,
fragrant woods,
SOverlooking a village so fair,
My foot nearly crushed an exquisite fay,
Whose figure seemed fashioned of air.
She was sleeping, half hid, in a bed of green
Curtained over with violets sweet.,
"Sure, never," I cried, was there seen such a
So fairy-like, dainty, and neat1"
When, suddenly starting, she opened her eyes,
And tossed back her soft, sunny hair
With a terrified look, and a cry of surprise,
To see me stand over her there.
"Never fear, little lady," I gently exclaimed,
As I lifted her up in my hand;
"But tell me, pray, how came you sleeping so
And where is the rest of your band? "
"Indeed, but I know not," half crying, she said,
In a clear little silvery tone;
"I was dancing last night at the Dragonfly's
Now they 've gone, and have left me alone."
"At a ball? cried I eagerly, then, in delight.
"Oh! tell me about it, I pray!"
"I will," she replied, "if, when I have done,
You 'll let me at once fly away.

Though you seem well disposed, still I frankly
Your race we hold greatly in dread."
"Very well; though I 'm sorry to lose you, my
Your wish shall be granted," I said.

Then throwing myself at the foot of a tree,
I lent to her story an ear.
I '11 tell it to you, as she told it to me-
'T is just as I 've written it here.

"You must know that the Dragonflies live in
these woods:
Once a year, every midsummer eve,
They give a grand ball, an exclusive affair-
Where only the best they receive.
Our Queen and her court condescend to
Though often we vote it a bore;
But far more complaisant are royalties now,
Than e'er in the good days of yore. -
The Wasps and the Butterflies always are
And the Katydids,- they 're asked to sing;
Though their voices I never admired, myself,
Last night, how they made the woods ring!
As the clock in your steeple struck one, we
set out

r-;,c C, 2 ~ a rCr.


In a state car of silver and pearl;
So swiftly we sped through the air that my
Swam around and around in a whirl.
Arrived at the Dragonfly's, there we beheld
A scene of the rarest delight.
I '11 try to describe it, though surely no words
Could picture the beautiful sight.
On the green velvet sward arose three grand
Formed of spider webs, spangled with dew;
While over them gracefully
floated gay flags
With streamers of
silver and

:' A

Beneath one a sumptuous table was spread,
Aglow with such beautiful flowers
As never the eye of a mortal beheld,
Culled in far-away fairyland bowers.
The second was meant for the dancers; afid
To the music's inspiriting sound,
The youths with their partners, bright, grace-
ful, and fair,
Were joyously floating around.
The third was reserved for our Queen and
her court:

On a dais of moss stood a throne
Formed of Indian-pipes, while rich purple
Of pansies across it were thrown.
The whole was illumined by large dewdrop
Each holding a clear moonlight ray;
The silvery beams they diffused o'er the scene
Were more bright and more soft than
the day.
As I stepped from my car, lo! a beetle in

Approached with a con-
fident glance;
Not liking his looks, I
glided away,
41 IFor I feared he might
ask me to dance.
A Grasshopper gay, all
appareled in green,
Next petitioned for 'only one turn.'
I consented, much pleased with his manner
and mien,
Then we rested, a while neathh a fern,
But in silence he stood, while I toyed with
,my fan,
Thinking, 'This stupid youth will soon
bore me.'
Light flashed in my eyes; looking up in
A Firefly stood there before me.
With the courtliest bow he began: I regret



To intrude on this t8te-a-tate charming;
But, pray, will you dance? 'No,' my part-
ner replied,
With a frown that was truly alarming;
'The lady 's fatigued.' 'Ah! Some honey
I 'll bring.'
Poor Grasshopper said not a word;
He was not at all pleased, I could plainly
And he really appeared quite absurd.
Mr. Firefly flew back with the honey so
In an exquisite lily-bell glass.
As I sipped it, he vowed,' None
would think you
were ill; \, \

Your cheeks e'en the roses surpass!
I see what you want; 't is a waltz, now,
Don't refuse, but oblige me this once.'
I gladly agreed. We went whirling around,
While he cried, Now you 're rid of that
dunce; .
Confess that you're glad. Why he answered
for you -

The great, awkward, long-legged fellow!
He 's hopping with rage, and so jealous he 's
I 'm sure you prefer a bright yellow.'
His conceit and his chatter amused me so


That I laughed as we still went on
While his flashes of light and his flashes of
Appeared to me fairly entrancing.
At supper he served me with various
When I asked for spring water, instead
He brought poppy-nectar; the flavor was
But it made me a sad sleepy-head.
'T was the poppy-juice brand, from old
And I never had touched it before,
And it made me so stupid that you may
be sure





Such nectar I'll shun
'I am almost asleep,' I cried
in despair,
For my weariness now grew excessive.
'Will you bring me an ice? It would
really taste nice,
Since the atmosphere 's sadly oppressive.'
Off he went; and not pausing e'en once to
look 'round,
From the sound of the music I fled,
Till my wings could sustain me no longer,
then down
I fell through the darkness like lead.
That 's the last that I know. 4
How I happened to be
Fast asleep in this bed,
lying here,
At this time of the day,
I assure you, my
friend, .
I have n't the slight-
est idea! "

As she finished her
story I heard a
buzz, buzz!
And, looking around,
did espy
A honey-bee, covered with pollen, and perched
On a clover-bloom growing close by.

To gather the meaning of all that she said,
I strove with my might, nor strove vainly;
The language of Bees was revealed by de-
I at last understood very plainly.
S Translated, 't is thus: "'T was
I brought you here,
And kind neighbor Ant
lent his aid.
p You were lying
., asleep not far
w from the road,
So we carried you
here, where we
S The bed where you
found yourself
: I trust that you
rested quite well.
S Pray, how are you feeling
m this morning? I hope
That you were not hurt
when you fell.
The nectar from poppies," the wise Bee
went on,
"Should never be served at a feast;

,fj ,' For it 's sure to put all the
j' 'Y. poor fairies to sleep,
Or make them all drowsy, at least."
I looked at Miss Fairy, and saw that she
Till her cheeks were a delicate red.



O'ercome with confusion, she scarcely could
And hung down her saucy young head.
Till at last she exclaimed, Oh, thank you,
dear Bee,
And, pray, thank your friend for me too;
Such kindness I 'm sure I have never de-
served -
I might have been killed but for you.
Now I think I '11 go home,"- here she tried
hard to raise
Her gossamer wings, light as air;
But vainly she strove; she at last was com-
To renounce the attempt in despair.

"Ah!. I see," said the Bee; "'t is-just as I
You were injured last night in your fall."

"Oh, dear! sobbed poor Fairy, "I wish
that I never
Had gone to that horrid old ball!
If I only were home, then all would be
But now that I can't walk or fly,
I suppose I may just as well make up my
That I '11 have to stay here till I die! "


" I '11 take you," said I, "where you wish to
go, dear."
"Oh! never!" the Fairy replied.
" Our Queen would ne'er pardon me, should
I reveal
Where she or her subjects abide."
"Don't distress yourself, Fairy, my wings are
quite strong,
And your Queen, I am sure, won't mind
You give the directions, and I '11 take you
Quoth the dear little generous Bee.
"Will you really? Oh! thank you," she
gratefully cried.
You are almost too kind and forgiving;
Henceforth I will ever proclaim you to be
The finest of all creatures living !"
"Pooh! pooh!" buzzed the Bee. "Come,
mount on my back;
My time is too precious to waste:
I 've a bagful of honey to gather to-day,
And back to my work I must haste."
Then promptly she mounted the brave little
And far through the rose-light they flew.
A sweet little voice floated back on the
'T was the Fairy, who bade me adieu.






[Begun in ike November number.]
FOR a moment Philip was too bewildered to
speak. Then he turned a white face toward
his sister.
"Who was that? he asked her.
Mademoiselle was intently watching the van-
ishing ranks of the white cockades. Philip
repeated his question. Mademoiselle looked
puzzled. Suddenly the boy pushed his chapeau
back upon his head, and a long low whistle
came through his closed teeth. Mademoiselle
looked anxious. She 'feared something was the
trouble with her vivacious brother.
"What do you mean, you Philip?" she
asked him. "What was it made you whistle?"
"Something I have just heard," was Philip's
unsatisfactory reply. Let me think; let me
--think. I will tell you later."
Philip had a secret. Mademoiselle grew
more and more inquisitive as they hurried
home. But her brother answered her not a
word in explanation until they were safely
within the house on the Street of the Fight.
Then to Citizen Daunou he told the story
of the mysterious message.
The worthy Keeper of the Archives rubbed
his white head thoughtfully.
"You were dreaming, boy," he said; "or
else the whisper was but a Fourth Ward joke.
They raise but rattlepates, you know, there, in
the Street of the Washerwomen. As, for exam-
ple "; and he clapped Philip on the shoulder.
But the boy was-in no mood for pleasantry.
"Dreaming or joke, I heard the words," he de-
clared. Then he added swiftly, "Which way,
now, lies this Elba ?"
Citizen Daunou looked startled.
"Elba?" he said; "why, to the southeast,
some two hundred leagues. Why do you ask? "

Mademoiselle, who had stolen in to hear, was
quicker-witted. She clasped her brother close.
To Elba, Philip! she cried. "You would
surely not go there. And why ?"
"Where the bees swarm and the eagle
soars," said the boy, more theatrically than he
really intended, "there is the place for him
who with bees would swarm and who would
soar with the eagle! "
My faith, Philip!" exclaimed practical Ma-
demoiselle, but what is all this we hear about
bees and eagles? Does it mean- What!
does it, now? The Emperor ?"
"It does, my sister," Philip cried, flushed
with ardor and excitement. Let not your
tongue speak the wonderful message outside
this house. The Emperor is coming back! "
"Philip!" the girl exclaimed, catching her
brother's excitement. "Is this so?"
Philip nodded energetically. And Citizen
Daunou said: It may be but-a joke of the
Washerwomen's quarter to stir up our Philip
here, as I have told him; but yet nothing is
impossible to Napoleon. Nothing can surprise
me in that wonderful man. Pray heaven he does
not come, even though France calls him and
all men marvel at him! It will be a terrible
mistake. No good can come of it. Better that
the Bourbons unhorse themselves by their own
blundering than that France should be ruined
by a dream of glory that can lead only to ruin."
But the Emperor is coming, you say ? Ma-
demoiselle repeated, heedless of the old man's
moralizing. Why, men tell us he is satisfied
there at Elba, and has no desire to return."
Citizen Daunou shook his head in disbelief.
"They are but fools who say it, then," he re-
plied. "The world is not done with, when one
is but forty-five; and abdication does not stay
ambition. The Emperor has not yet fed full
of war and glory. Elba is all too small a
world for him to govern, and he will tire of it,


if he has not already done so. The Eagle will
beat his wings until he breaks his cage bars, and
will try a flight to Notre Dame. I know his
ambition; it is boundless. But such a flight
will never succeed. Once again the Eagle may
flap his wings above the Tuileries; but the fowl-
ing-piece that kills crows may bring down an
eagle, and the hunters will speedily be abroad.
Let Napoleon stay on his island, or die in
escaping. His mission for France is ended.
Fontainebleau was his climax. To return
would be but anticlimax: and that is a mis-
take, is it not, you boy of the Paris schools ? "
No doubt the wise old scholar was right.
But Mademoiselle could not admit it; and
Philip surely would not. When did youth ever
neglect to bow before glory, or refuse to yield
to the spell of adventure? Great thoughts
were stirring in the boy's busy brain; high
hopes were surging in hlis brave young heart.
Please brush up my very best page suit,
Mademoiselle my sister," he said; and keep
it ready for use. Citizen Daunou, I crave your
permission to go on a quest. Within a week
I shall be with you again."
A boy's will is the wind's will,'" the quiet
old Keeper remarked. 'T is a fool's errand,
Philip, but I cannot say no to you. -Only,
guard yourself, my son. Be not rash. Re-
member what I told you-the hunters will
speedily be abroad, if your message at the foun-
tain was a true tale. Guard yourself for Ma-
demoiselle's sake, for my sake, for France! "
And within two hours' time Philip had left
his dear ones in the Street of the Fight, and
was off to the southward.
The whispered message by the fountain in
the Street of the Washerwomen was not a
dream. It was a fact. The Emperor had
escaped from Elba. He was on his way to
He risked his head to gain his throne; and
France-fickle France-flamed out to wel-
come him back, though it knew his return
would mean disturbance, war, and death once
Philip met the truth at Lyons. The air was
full of rumors that speedily became facts. With
less than a thousand of his grenadiers-his
"brave growlers," as he sometimes called them

-the Emperor had landed in France. The
army had gone over to him, wild with joy.
The Empire would be proclaimed once more.
France would be free of the Bourbons.
Philip found Lyons in a ferment. Napoleon
was almost at its gates. The Bourbon prince
who commanded the troops in that important
city ordered his soldiers to the walls to repel
or capture "the bandit from Elba." But what
was a Bourbon prince before our Emperor"?
The tidings of the imperial adventurer came
thick and fast. Napoleon had landed near
Cannes; he had marched over the mountains
to Dijon; he had first fronted the white stan-
dard with his tricolor at Laffrey; with bared
breast he had faced the soldiers of the King in
the Vale of Beaumont, bidding them welcome
him or kill him; and behold! the soldiers of the
King had fallen on their knees before him, cried
"Long live the Emperor! and hailed him as
their "father." He had kissed the restored
eagles at Vizille; he had entered Grenoble,
through the gates burst open by the peasants
without and the revolted soldiers within; es-
corted by mountaineers and farmers singing the
Marseilles Hymn, he advanced from Grenoble
to Lyons with his little "army of deliverance"
already grown from one thousand to six thou-
sand soldiers waving the tricolored cockade.
Off hurries the Bourbon prince in terror of his
life; down go the barricades, wrecked by the
very soldiers who had piled them up; "Long
live the Emperor !" shout garrison and citizens;
and to the accompaniment of twenty thousand
welcoming voices Napoleon enters Lyons.
And there, on the steps of the Archbishop's
palace, to which the Emperor was conducted,
Philip greeted him with tears and laughter and
a voice thrilling with passionate welcome.
"What?-is it you, young Desnouettes?"
the Emperor cried, catching the page around
the neck. "My brave boy, is it you?"
"Yes, from Paris, Sire," answered the boy,
"to greet you and die for you."
No; live for me, my Philip," the Emperor
said. "And what do they say at Paris ? "
"Sire, I did not wait to hear," answered
truthful Philip. I ran to join you as soon as
they whispered that you had left for France."
"As heedless as ever; eh, you boy?" and



then came the ear-pinching that seemed so
old times come again. Well; to me, to
my Philip! I shall have duties for you."
Three days the Emperor rested at L,
reviewing his troops, organizing his go,
ment, writing despatches, and sending thro
out France the two mas-
terly proclamations that are
such marked specimens of
Napoleonic eloquence.
Philip galloped from
Lyons a day in advance of
the Emperor, bearing mes-
sages to Paris, and spread-
ing the wonderful tidings
as he rode. France seemed
wild with joy. Down
came the white cockade;
up went the tricolor; the
Emperor's flower the
violet blossomed in
countless buttonholes. f.'
The Lilies drooped; the i,
Bees were swarming ev-
erywhere. ..
Philip burst into the .
quiet house on the Street
of the Fight and filled it
with his wonderful news.
"He has come; he has "
come back! he shouted.
" I have seen him I have
seen the Emperor! "I
Mademoiselle laughed
and cried in her excite-
ment; even Nurse Marcel
tore off her bonne's cap
and waved it frantically:
" Down go the aristo-
crats !" she shrieked out.
Citizen Daunou, forgetting his philoso
pounded on the table and shouted, Long
the Emperor!" Marshal, the big Dane,
off his dignity and barked and capered like
thoughtless young puppy; and Philip, se:
the page's livery that Mademoiselle thrust
his restless hands, hugged them all excite
and rushed off to the Tuileries.
"Eh, you boy! Hurrah, young Desnoue
Where so fast, now ? I told you the truth

I not?" Philip paused in his running long
enough to recognize his questioner.
"What, is it you, Pierre?" he cried. "Long
live the--what do you mean, though? You
told the truth ? What, then was it you ?"
"At the fountain, yonder? To be sure,"

phy, Pierre said composedly. "I have known what
live was afoot for many a day. Oh, we know some-
put thing at headquarters, now and then."
any "And you did not stop him? Oh, Pierre!
izing and I thought you a royalist and a renegade.
into Kick me, Pierre. It is your right. How could
edly, I have doubted you?" Philip was almost
hysterical in his mixture of surprise and glee,
ttes! as, repentant and rejoicing, he fell upon Pierre.
, did We who know how to open our ears and



hold our tongues, Monsieur the Page, Monsieur
the Lieutenant, can sometimes work our ways
better than those who grumble and shout," the
young inspector said. "Yes, I dropped that
word of warning into your ear, at our old foun-
tain, and then vanished. It was all I dared do,
then. But it worked, I see, it worked. And
you are for- ? "
"The Tuileries, Pierre. See me again, my
friend. I would get there before the Emperor,"
and in a flash Philip was speeding again toward
the Tuileries.
As he reached the palace, soldiers and vet-
erans were filling the Place of the Carrousel.
Among the latter Philip was not surprised to
see old Corporal Peyrolles, proud and radiant.
The veteran from the Soldiers' Home swung
his cocked hat, graced with the tricolored
cockade, and brought his cane to the salute, as
Philip greeted him.
Death of my life, my infant the old man
cried, his gruff voice breaking in a high key;
"but is not this glorious? Look at us here
-Arcdla, the Pyramids, Marengo, Austerlitz,
Wagram, Lutzen, Moscow, and the Clichy
Gate! We are all here, and he is coming.
Wait till he sees me. I '11 put him on the
throne if I have to prop it up with my wooden
leg, here. Open the palace! Pull down the
white rag! Out with old Grandfather In-the-
Soup! In with Corporal Violet! *
And all the old veterans tuned their cracked
voices into a mighty yell: "Down with the
white flag! Long live the Little Corporal!"
It is two in the afternoon. The increasing
throng grows more insistent. The growls of
the veterans, the shouts of the soldiers grow
ominous and threatening. Then a great cry
goes up. The gates are thrown open. An-
other shout. Down goes the white flag; up
goes the tricolor; and, as the Imperial banner
once again streams from the great Clock Tower
of the Tuileries, all Paris knows that the Bour-
bons have fled, and that the Empire has won.
Evening came--that eventful evening of
Monday, March 20, in the year 1815. The
Tuileries was filled with guests, dressed as if
for a fete night. Those who had been in hid-
ing, and those who had deserted King Louis,

met to await the coming of the Emperor. The
great palace blazed with lights, and a page of
the palace, resplendent in his imperial livery,
was almost beside himself for joy.
It was Philip Desnouettes. He had seen
the Emperor. He had been charged by him
with messages to Paris.. Philip was the lion
of those waiting hours. He was petted and
praised by every one. He began to feel very
important once more.
He could scarcely contain himself. He
wished to keep busy, to be doing something to
prove his devotion.
The palace looked just the same. Philip
could scarcely believe that a year had passed
since he had been there. Here are the same
hangings, he said; the same stiff, straight furni-
ture, the same bureaus and cabinets, tete-a-
t&tes, couches and chairs, decorated with their
brass or ormolu wreaths and festoons, sphinxes
and victories, and sprinkled with the no!
Hallo! What is this? The lilies? Then
where are the bees? Have the royalists dared
remove from the palace decorations the bees
of Napoleon, and put in their place the lilies of
the Bourbons? Why, this will never do!
Frantic with indignant loyalty, Philip cried:
" Off with the lilies-on with the bees! and
falling upon the offending decorations, Philip,
helped by many ready hands, tore down the
lilies from the tapestry, and stripped them from
the coverings. From some hiding-place were
brought the hangings that bore the bees, and
reawakened loyalty was satisfied.
At nine o'clock a mighty shout is heard
"The Emperor! The Emperor! "
The palace echoes the cry, as across the
Bridge of the Palace, and along the Seine em-
bankment, in through the Tuileries Gate,
thronged about by a clamorous crowd, and
surrounded by his soldiers and his generals,
Napoleon enters the courtyard.
Paris is wild with joy! The veterans fling
themselves upon the Emperor's carriage. They
seize him in their arms. They drag him out,
and, bearing him on their shoulders, they rush
with him through the doorway, even to the
foot of the great staircase.

* Father Panade and Corporal Violet" were soldiers' names for Louis XVIII. and Napoleon respectively.




The palace rocks with the shouts of welcome.
The crowd bearing the Emperor, and the
throng pouring down the staircase to greet him,
block the way. Progress is impossible. Peo-


pie are everywhere, and Philip, standing at the
top of the noble Stairway of Honor, laughs, as
he cheers, to see Corporal Peyrolles sitting
astride the great silver statue of Peace, his cha-
peau on the end of his cane, his face red with
shouting and wet with tears of joy.
At last a passageway is broken through the
crowd. Philip and Monsieur de Lavalette back
their way aloft to keep the passage open, and
so, up the clamoring stairway, along the Gal-
lery of Diana, through the Blue Room, and
into the Emperor's study, amid tears and
cheers and shouts, and tossing of hats and wav-
ing of handkerchiefs, the Emperor comes to his
own again. In twenty days after leaving Elba,
Napoleon has regained his empire. With but
a thousand grenadiers he has conquered thirty



millions of people. The Swarming of the Bees
ends in a carnival of joy.
Breathless, and weeping with the excitement
of the home-coming, Napoleon looked about
him. The closed doors of the
study barred out the happy
crowd. At his feet he saw a
kneeling figure, dressed in the
crimson, green, and gold of a
.I page of the palace.
"What, is it you again, my
--..',. Philip!" exclaimed the Emperor.
i'i '. "And in your page's livery!
Rise, my boy. You are a page
no longer. Such devotion merits
a higher service. See; my for-
tune shall be yours! Did I not
iij,. tell you once that he who rides
i and he who writes merit often as
much esteem as he who bears
-s- the musket or wields the sword ?
I make you a member of the
Legion of Honor. Here, Ber-
i trand, Lavalette, some one-
give me a cross! What! none
,' will spare me one?" No one
would. Crosses of the Legion
were to be displayed just then;
they were treasured too highly
S.- to be given to a boy. "Here,
then! and, impulsively, the
OF THE Emperor tore the cherished dec-
oration from his own breast,
pinned it on the lad's green coat, and pinching
his ear affectionately, cried to General Bertrand,
who stood beside him, Grand Marshal, here
is a new officer of my household! Captain
Desnouettes,--page and lieutenant no longer,
-you are a brevet-officer, specially attached
to my person. Let the comrade serve me
as faithfully as the page, and France shall be
proud of you."
And while the boy trembled with delight and
pride, the Emperor caught him to his breast
and kissed him on the cheek.
So Philip the Page, by a faithfulness that
never faltered and a loyalty that never wa-
vered, gained the decoration all Frenchmen
Thus he won the Cross.


AT once Philip was head over ears in busi-
ness. If the Emperor was gracious and appre-
ciative, he was also a hard taskmaster when
work was to be done. And there was work
unending to be done when, once again, the
imperial government was in active operation.
Day and night Napoleon, desiring peace, but
preparing for war, was closeted in consultation
with his ministers.
His return from Elba flamed like a comet
in the skies of Europe. Kings were startled,
princes trembled, allies who had deserted and
foes who had plotted against him read ven-
geance in his return; and with a united growl of
rage the nations of Europe combined for his
overthrow. All the sovereigns signed the de-
claration of hate and terror, drawn up by a
Frenchman whom Napoleon had loaded with
favors, proclaiming to the world that Napoleon
Bonaparte, by "reappearing" in France, "is
placed outside of all relations, both civil and
social, and, as an enemy and disturber of the
peace of the world, he is handed over to public
Thus did the kings and ministers who once
had bowed in homage to the Emperor now
proclaim him outlaw.
Napoleon sought peace with all nations. But
though he wished for peace, he knew he must
prepare for war. All Europe was rising against
him. France must be ready to resist.
The days went on. In Europe a million
men were arming for the fray that all the world
saw was inevitable. In France the Emperor
was preparing for resistance. The old regi-
ments were filled up. The veterans drew from
their hiding-places at the bottom of knapsacks
or inside their drums the discarded tricolor
they would not throw away, and. hastened to
rally around the eagles. The conscripts gath-
ered at the stations with knapsack, cartridge-
box, and musket. Steadily and surely the day
of Waterloo drew near.
The invaders of France gathered beyond its
borders; the defenders of France marched to
the frontiers. The Emperor, professing his de-
sire only to promote the welfare of France,


granted a new constitution that would give
greater liberty to the people, and held, on the
banks of the flashing Seine, a splendid f6te and
open-air display, still famous as the gorgeous
"Field of May." There on his throne, sur-
rounded by his brothers and his great officers
of state, Napoleon reviewed his fifty thousand
troops, and aroused the cheers of the people,
always ready to enjoy a show in which glitter
and gorgeousness and imperial splendor, music
and marching, and all the theatrical accessories
were spread before the eyes with all the old-
time magnificence.
Seated upon his throne, the Emperor re-
viewed his troops, received the dignitaries of
the Empire, and swore allegiance to the new
"Frenchmen! he said, "my will is that of
the people. My rights are theirs. My honor,
my glory, my happiness cannot be other than
the honor, the glory, the happiness of France.
Soldiers! I confide to you the imperial
eagle of the national colors. Swear to defend
it with your blood against the enemies of the
fatherland. Swear to die rather than to suffer
strangers to make laws for the fatherland."
The soldiers cried, "We swear it!" The
people shouted enthusiastically, "Long live the
But the enemies of France were marching.
The "strangers" were coming to bring blood
and ruin to the fatherland. The shadow of the
coming conflict seemed already to rest upon
the imperial adventurer throned in his splendid
"Is not the Emperor glorious ? cried en-
thusiastic Philip after the gorgeous ceremonial
of the Field of May was over, as he walked
into the dear house in the Street of the Fight.
"Was not that fete magnificent ? "
Call it a funeral rather than a fete, my son,"
Citizen Daunou said sadly. His momentary
enthusiasm over the Emperor's dramatic return
was gone. His clear vision saw the trouble that
was in store for France. And the Emperor?
Glorious, perhaps, as you say, with his imperial
robes and his words of fire. But to me he is no
longer the Emperor of 181o. His counselors
are nerveless, they are timid. To me, they seem
to have the vertigo. He, alas! is languid; only



on great occasions does the old spirit flame out.
He seems full of melancholy. His haughtiness
has softened almost to entreaty; his pride to

is noisy in her crowds; she is vociferous in her
soldiers; but it is not the zeal Napoleon hoped
for- the zeal of a united nation. His enemies.

I' ~ f i' ?



gentleness. Good signs if all were well, my are pitiless; his friends uncertain. He has no
Philip; but all is not well, my Philip. The ally, no vassal, no imperial power. He wishes
Emperor sees the shadow of failure. France peace; he must have war. How will that end ?"



Philip, as usual, scoffed in his heart at this
gloomy picture, and expressed to Mademoiselle
the wish that Citizen Daunou were more patri-
otic. Why does he talk of failure ? the boy
demanded. "The Emperor cannot fail. The
army and the nation are at his back. De-
feated? Never! That is no way for a French-
man to talk. I really must bring Peyrolles
here again to reason with our excellent father."
Boys and girls can seldom go beneath the
surface of things, as do their elders. And it is
well, perhaps; for youth is the time of hope.
Philip certainly saw none of the signs of sad-
ness that Citizen Daunou detected. "Just let
him work beside the Emperor for a day, as I
do," the boy declared, "and my faith! it is he
that will be the sad one-from too much work."
To Philip, the Emperor was still the Emperor
-great, powerful, victorious, invincible. Philip
knew that he would conquer; once again he
would give the law to Europe. This, each
day, was the burden of the brave boy's song.
The work increased in the palace as the con-
flict approached. Napoleon had done marvels.
Within two months he had raised, equipped,
and officered an army of three hundred thou-
sand men. Arsenals, factories, and military
shops were busy; trade was good; business was
flourishing. What more could France wish?
Philip, growing older and more observant,
saw and treasured up many of the ways of this
remarkable man, upon whom the eyes of the
world were fixed. Many times in after years
would he recall the picture of the Emperor in
those last busy mornings in his study-the
stout, short-legged, long-bodied figure, now
grown somewhat heavy in face and person,
sitting at the desk, or restlessly pacing the floor,
head down, hands clasped behind his back, for-
ever sniffing at the snuff that he did not take,
reading letters, dictating replies and messages,
keeping his marvelous memory in full play as
to methods, details, and men, pleasant of voice,
courteous in manner, with but little of the old-
time impatience and imperiousness, and in his
eyes that tinge of melancholy that even Philip
had noted ever since the Emperor found that
his Austrian wife had deserted him, and the
son he loved so dearly had been stolen from him.
Thus Philip studied him one day, as Napo-

leon paced the room, dictating, advising, com-
manding. The shapely fingers that were the
Emperor's pride, and which he could often be
caught admiring, were dipped again and again
into the tortoiseshell snuffbox crowned with
the imperial N. Philip stood at the table wait-
ing for a message he was to deliver. The Em-
peror, laying his snuffbox on the table, turned
to consult a letter that bore on the matter in
hand. The snuffbox stood invitingly open,
and Philip, heedless as ever, could not resist
the temptation. With a wink at young Gudin,
the Emperor's page, as if to say, "See, you
boy! how 'chummy' are the Emperor and I,"
Philip dipped his fingers into the open snuff-
box, and took a pinch.
Page Gudin was duly horrified and duly im-
pressed. But, as luck would have it Philip's
usual luck- the Emperor, raising his eyes just
at the wrong instant, caught sight of the act in
the mirror before him. Turning sharply, Na-
poleon took the snuffbox from the table, and
with a quick motion thrust it straight toward
the mortified Philip.
Still the same old Philip, eh, you boy ?"
the Emperor said. Even the Cross of the
Legion has not fully made the page into the
man! Here! Keep the box, Captain Desnou-
ettes. It is too small for both of us." And,
with a silent laugh at the young fellow's dis-
comfiture, the Emperor went on dictating as if
nothing had happened, while page Gudin had
to stuff his shoulder-ribbons into his mouth to
keep from laughing aloud, and all the other
secretaries exchanged winks and shrugs.
But Philip kept the box.
At last came the June Sunday when, with his
old-time ease and affability, as if peace and not
war were universal, the Emperor held his final
reception in the great gallery of the Louvre.
Philip marveled at the self-possession of the
man; he knew how great a host was gathered
beyond the frontiers, bent upon the Emperor's
overthrow, and how soon Napoleon must hasten
there to resist and repel invasion.
On June 12, 1815, Napoleon left Paris for the
seat of war. On the fifteenth the French army
crossed the river Sambre and fell upon the en-
emy. Then came Waterloo.
Waterloo !-that famous battle, where Napo-




leon first met the unconquerable English face
to face: where Wellington made his name im-
mortal: that battle glittering in its array, bril-
liant in its manceuvers, terrible in its intensity,
horrible in its loss of life: that battle remarka-
ble for little blunders that led to great results,
and for magnificent attempts that amounted to
nothing: that battle, so nearly a defeat for Eng-
land, so nearly a victory for France, that to this
day men cannot see just how it turned the
other way, and historians and military writers
are even yet disputing as to the responsibility
and discussing the operations.
It is not for us to describe or discuss it here.
Napoleon was beaten: conquered, it may be,
as the English say, by Wellington; conquered,
it may be, as the Germans claim, by Bliicher;
conquered, it may be, as declares Victor Hugo
the Frenchman, by the will of Heaven.
The end of it all -the inexplicable, the un-
expected, the impossible -Philip did not see.
In his uniform of a special officer of ordonfiance,
he was in constant attendance on the Emperor,
riding here, writing there; now in the saddle,
now by the Emperor's side; despatching mes-
sages, bearing messages, galloping from point
to point; now at the rear of the battle, now in
its very front; dodging bullets, racing charges,
restless, active, exultant. He knew from the
start that the Emperor would win. He heard
him cry to Ney, "We have ninety chances in
a hundred Philip's faith in his leader never
for an instant wavered.
In all those terrible three days of desperate
fighting Philip had been in the thick of it; cut-
ting his way, when need was, through every
living obstacle; escaping, with his usual luck,
the pitiless pelting of that rain of fire and death.
He had waved his hat exultantly as the Prus-
sians fell back, defeated at Ligny; he had
watched breathlessly the stubborn fight at
Quatre Bras; he had cheered frantically as
his old schoolfellow, big Vieux of the Poly-
technic, hewed down the door of the farmhouse
at Hougoumont that sheltered the English line;
he had caught the gleam of victory in the Em-
peror's eye, as, rising in his stirrups, Napoleon
saw Wellington's troops pushed back toward
the Soignes forest. He knew the battle was won.

He saw that never-forgotten figure, now fa-
miliar to all the world- the clear-cut profile
beneath the plain chapeau, the green uniform
of the chasseurs, its broad bright ribbon and
the long gray overcoat, the tight knee-breeches,
the high boots, the big white horse with the
crimson velvet housings. He heard the quick,
brief order to Milhaud's cuirassiers to charge
the English on the plains of St. Jean; then
he caught the voice of the Emperor, satisfied,
abrupt, triumphant: Captain Desnouettes,
about! Ride like the wind to Paris. Tell
them the battle is won! "
So Philip rode to Paris, eager, flushed, ex-
ultant, proud of the news he bore.
Alas! he did not see the end the splendid
charge of these mail-clad squadrons; the terri-
ble tragedy of the sunken road of Ohain; the
unyielding stand of the English squares; the re-
pulse; the coming of Bliicher; the wild flight;
the race with death; the panic; the disgrace;
the last charge of the Guard; the heroic ad-
vance of that immortal company who died but
never surrendered, who, facing certain death,
never faltered, but

Saluting their divinity, erect amid the storm,
One cry, "Long live the Emperor! the last their pale
lips form.
Then, with the music on ahead, all passionless and slow,
And smiling at the English guns, black yawning there
With lifted heads, with flashing eyes, with hearts no
fear can tame,
The Imperial Guard went forward into the furnace flame.

Then they, too, died. Waterloo was Wel-
lington's. Napoleon's star had set forever.
Changing horses as he rode, Philip galloped
on. He carried his news to Paris. The city
heard it with joy. The young captain, wearied
with his desperate ride, reported at headquar-
ters, and then flung himself into the quiet house
on the Street of the Fight, to rest awhile and
then go out for later tidings of the victory.
Alas! all too soon the tidings reached him.
Philip's ride had been in vain. In the early
morning, the defeated Emperor came wearily
into the courtyard of the little Elysian palace
on the Street of St. Honor, conquered, ruined,

(To be concluded.)


I AM the doll that Nancy broke!
Had n't been hers a week.
One little squeeze, and I sweetly spoke;
Rosy and fair was my cheek.
Now my head lies in a corner far,
My body lies here in the other:
And if this is what human children are,
I never will live with another!

I am the book that Nancy read
For fifteen minutes together:
Now I am standing here on my head,
While she's gone to look at the weather.
My leaves are crushed in the cruelest way,
There 's jam on my opening page;
And I would not live with Miss Nancy Gay,
Though I should n't be read for an age!

I am the frock that Nancy wore
Last night at her birthday feast.
I am the frock that Nancy tore
In seventeen places at least.
My buttons are scattering far and near,
My trimming is torn to rags;
And if I were Miss Nancy's mother dear
I 'd dress her in calico bags!

We are the words that Nancy said
When these things were brought to
her view.
j VAll of us ought to be painted red,
And some of us are not true.
We splutter and mutter and .4 1
snarl and snap,
We smolder and smoke and blaze:
And if she 'd not meet with some sad mishap,
Miss Nancy must mend her ways.

<~k JSL~

CtI --


\ .~4(
Mt A

cllP ~L~,C~_



[Begun in the Afril number, i894.

THE Attorney Burton, as has been said, went
to England in November. He carried letters
to Jack's Yorkshire relatives, and he was em-
powered to act as Jack's attorney.
The Attorney, when he reached England,
had gone almost immediately to Southampton.
He had been looking forward with a great deal
of pleasurable excitement to the meeting be-
tween himself and old Hezekiah. He had ar-
ranged the interview in his own mind: just what
he would say and just what he would do. He
rehearsed it over and over again as he ap-
proached the town.
The little man entered Hezekiah's office
without knocking. Hezekiah was there. He
sat at his desk, exactly as he had done when
the Attorney had last seen him. It seemed
somehow very strange that he should be there
in just the same way; it was as though the
little Attorney might have gone only around
the corner and returned, instead of having gone
all the way to the Americas and back again.
Hezekiah looked over his spectacles as the other
entered. For a moment or two he did not
recognize him. He looked at the little man
with his dull, filmy, callous eyes. Then in-
stantly a look of consciousness flashed into a
light of life. His jaw dropped quickly, and he
sat suddenly stiff and erect, as though from a
galvanic shock. It seemed to the Attorney
that the yellow pallor in his face turned to a
whiter and still more waxy hue. Then, as with
a recurrent flow, a dull, withered red mounted
to his cheeks. The surprise was just as keen-
was even more keen than the little Attorney
had looked for it to be. It filled him full of
pleasure to see it. He stood rubbing his hands
VOL. XXII.-115. 9

slowly together. Good morning to you, Mas-
ter Tipton," said he. Good morning, Master
Tipton. How do you do this morning? I 've
just come from the Americas, Master Tipton,
and I thought I 'd just stop in to see you."
He smiled, and almost chuckled. "What d' ye
think, Master Tipton ? I 've found your nephew,
Jack Ballister, in Virginia. We 've been to-
gether there. He 's risen in the world, and
hath made great friends and powerful friends
there, with the planters. He looks to return
toward the spring. I 'm going to start directly
to Yorkshire to consult with his relatives about
him." He stood still, rubbing his hands and
looking cunningly at the old man. Hezekiah
Tipton got down mechanically from his stool.
He stood with his arms resting upon the top of
the desk; his fingers closed about the edge of
it. "Before I go to Yorkshire, Master Tip-
ton," said the Attorney, "I thought it best to
come see you, and to find out what you 're
really inclined to do for your nephew during his
minority. 'T is plain, after what hath hap-
pened, that he can no longer live here with you
when he comes back to England, and I am go-
ing to make arrangements for him to live with
his father's people in Yorkshire."

But it was not until the latter part of January
that anything was heard at Marlborough from
Mr. Burton. Then a packet of letters came all
in a parcel. They were altogether satisfactory.
There was one a very cordial letter from
Jack's uncle, Sir Roger Ballister, and a long
one from Attorney Burton, telling of the busi-
ness arrangements he had made with Hezekiah
Tipton, looking toward Jack's maintenance
during his minority.
For days, at Marlborough, everything seemed
to center about the letters, and the news they
brought about Jack's future prospects. Then


his early voyage to England began to be con-
sidered. It was arranged that he was to go
back in February.

At first it seemed as though the day of de-
parture was a long way off, but day after day
passed, and the time drew nearer and nearer--
first three weeks, then two weeks, then one
week, then three days; then it was "to-morrow."
He was to go down to Yorktown in the
schooner, and there take passage in the ship
"Windsor Castle" for England.
The preparations for his journey seemed to
cumulate as the time for his departure drew
nearer and nearer, and in the afternoon of his
last day at Marlborough it seemed as though
there was hardly time to get everything ready.
His new clothes were not sent home until late
in the afternoon. The afternoon grew later and
later; the negroes were waiting to carry the
chests and bundles to the landing, but even
yet they were not quite ready.
Madam Parker came out upon the landing,
calling down into the hall: "Jack! Where
is Jack? Did you see Master Jack, Chloe ?"
Iss, missus," said the negro woman; "him
in de office with hes Honor."
"Well, go and ask him where he put those
-two lace cravats and the lawn sleeves, for they
can't be found anywhere."
"Why, mama," called Nelly Parker, "they
were put into the little chest. I saw Dinah
pack them there yesterday."
Why did n't you tell me you had put them
there, Dinah ?" said Madam Parker, turning
to the negro woman who stood waiting in the
doorway behind her.
Me not know what you meant, missus,"
said Dinah.
Just then Chloe, Madam Parker's maid,
came to the foot of the stairs. Sambo and
Casar, him out dar, missus," said she. "Him
want ax is boxes be ready. Him wait and him
"Well, they '11 have to wait," said Madam
Parker, coolly, for they 're. not ready yet."
Why, mama," said Nelly Parker, they can
surely take down the small box and come back
for the other."
Jack was sitting with Colonel Parker, who

was giving him his last instructions. "I have
them marked down here," said he, "on this
paper. Keep it carefully now. Nay; don't
thrust it in your pocket like that. Where 's
the pocket-book I gave you to keep such things
in ?"
Why, sir, I left it up-stairs on the table,"
said Jack.
Well, you should always carry it with you,"
said Colonel Parker, and not leave it about
that way. If you put the paper in your pocket
now, be sure to see that you put it in your
pocket-book when you get up-stairs."
"Yes, sir," said Jack.
Now," said Colonel Parker, When you
arrive at Gravesend the captain will send you
up to London. Here is a letter to the captain.
See that you give it to him as soon as you get
aboard. It gives him full instructions as to all
he is to do. He will send you up as far as
Broadstairs in a wherry, and there you must
get a hackney coach to take you to my agent.
Here is a letter to him and a packet-' Eben-
ezer Bilton, Esquire.' This packet of letters
you must use while you are in London if you
need them. You will see by the addresses who
they are for. Here is this large packet to give
to your uncle. All these letters you may put
in one of the chests, but carry the captain's let-
ter in your pocket so you may give it to him as
soon as you get aboard."
Yes, sir," said Jack.
Jack was filled full of the thought of the
journey. To-morrow he would be upon his
way back to England. Every now and then
during the day he was seized almost as with
a spasm of something that was like a pang
both of impatience and anxiety. At the same
time there loomed before him the thought that
he was to leave Marlborough.
He went up-stairs with the letters that Colo-
nel Parker had given him. The negroes were
just tying the cords around the second chest.
These letters are to go in yet," said Jack.
"Well," said Madam Parker, "you might
have brought them sooner, and not have waited
until everything was packed away and the chest
"Why, indeed, madam, I could n't bring
them sooner," said Jack. "Colonel Parker would



have me there to talk with him, and I could n't
get away."
The negroes were rapidly untying the cord
from about the chest as he was speaking.
Jack helped the negroes as they tied the
chest again, then he followed them as they car-
ried the box down-stairs and out of the house.
Jack stood out on the steps bare-headed. Now
that everything had been done for his departure
he was conscious of a singularly empty feeling.
It had been snowing the day before. The
snow was now melting in the sun. It was in
large flaky patches here and there upon the
brown grass. On the pathway and on the
stepsit lay in a sodden, semi-transparent sheet
of slush. Everywhere the water was running,
trickling, the drops sparkling in the sunset light.
The air was chill and raw. The negroes had set
down the chest to rest themselves. They blew
on their knuckles. They were in their shirt-
sleeves. Jack shivered sympathetically.
"You '11 take a cold if you stand out there
without your hat on," said Madam Parker from
within the hall. Then Jack went in.
He went first into the drawing-room and
then through into the library. He was looking
for Nelly Parker. She was not in either room.
She was in a small room beyond, and was
standing looking out of the window, watching
the negroes as they carried the chest down to
the landing. Just as Jack came in she burst
out laughing. She turned her head and saw
Jack. "'T was Sambo," said she; "he fell
Jack came up to the window, and stood be-
side her and looked out. The negro had just
risen from where he had fallen and was brush-
ing the slushy snow from his clothes. The
other negro was laughing. Jack could hear
him from a distance. Then they picked up the
chest and went on again.
"'T is so strange to think that the time has
really come for me to go, that I can hardly be-
lieve that it hath come," said Jack.
I do suppose, too," said she, "that you are
glad now that the time has come."
"Why, no," said Jack, "I am not glad to
go. Why should you think I am glad ?"
"Because," said she, "you are to see so
much. I know that I would be glad if I were

going to England. Sometimes 't is dull here;
specially during the winter when no one cometh
for days at a time. I would be glad enough if
I were going to England."
Jack felt a sort of discomfort. It seemed to
him that in her wanting to go to England she
thought nothing about him. "Well, I would n't
choose to go to England," said he, "if I did n't
have to."
"Why not ?" said she.
Because," said he, I would rather be with
you. That is," he added, "I would rather be
with you and your father and mother." She
did not reply, but stood looking out of the win-
dow. Will you miss me? said he at last.
Yes; we shall" said she. "To be sure we
shall miss you."
"But you," said he; "I mean you. Will
you miss me ?"
"-Why, to be sure I shall," said she.
"Will you ?"
Jack stood looking at her. He did not know
what to say. She was looking out of the window
across the damp, wintry stretch of lawn toward
the river. She turned and looked at him; then
she suddenly reached out her hand toward him,
and he took it. She had never done such a thing
before. He trembled as he stood holding it.
He felt his breath oppressed almost to suffoca-
tion as he stood there. He hardly dared look
at her. She stood perfectly still with her hand
in his, and made no effort to draw it away.
"Will you miss me?" said he at last. "I '11
miss you. Oh how I shall miss you!"
"Yes, I '11 miss you sadly," said she in a low
She was looking down as she spoke, running
her fingers along the window. Suddenly some
one came. She snatched her hand away from
him and stood at a little distance. Jack turned
around almost dizzily. His heart was beating
It was Madam Parker. "Why, Jack," said
she, "I 've been looking for you everywhere."
Jack and Nelly Parker moved away from the
He did not get a chance to speak to Nelly
again that night. He looked for it and longed
for it, but it did not come. She went to bed


before the'others. The negro waiting-woman
stood at the door holding the candle. Nelly
Parker gave Jack her hand. Her father and
mother were looking on. Good night," said
she, "and 't will be good-by." Jack held her
hand. He remembered how they had stood
in the afternoon. She must have known how
he had felt as they stood there together. It
seemed that she must understand him better
than she had ever done before: as though they
were somehow bound together. He held her
hand so long that she withdrew it from him.
Why," said he, will you, then, not see me
off in the morning ? "
s "Why, Jack, you '11 be off before we 're
awake," said Colonel Parker. "You '11 have
started before seven o'clock."
Nelly Parker laughed. "Oh, la! I would
never be able to be up by seven o'clock," said
"Would you not," said Jack, "and I 'm to
be gone for so long ? "
She laughed again. "If I 'm awake," said
she, why, to be sure I '11 bid you good-by;
but I '11 never be able to wake by seven
Then she was gone. Jack was choking
down a very bitter feeling of disappointment
as he sat down.

Somebody was knocking upon his door. He
heard the knocking before he was awake, and
he heard it more and more clearly as he came
wider and wider awake. It was the dark of
the early winter morning. A light shone
through the crack of the door. Who is it? "
called Jack. He could not think at first what
it all meant. Then he remembered with a rush.
This was the morning he was to start for Eng-
land. The time had come.
Master Jack! said a voice outside, "'t is
six o'clock." It was Colonel Parker's serving-
man Robin.
You may come in, Robin," said Jack, "and
light the candle."
The man came in bringing a pitcher of hot
water, and carrying a lighted candle in the
other hand. Jack dreaded getting out of his
warm bed into the frosty chill of the great, dark
room. The man lit the candle, and Jack could

see his breath coming like smoke out of his
mouth, as he looked intently at the lighting
The boat's all ready, Master Jack," said he,
" and they'll be ready to start as soon as you're
dressed and have had your breakfast. You 'd
better get up, sir, or you '11 be going off to
sleep again."
"Is it cold this morning, Robin ? said Jack.
"Ay; 't is freezing, sir," said the man.
Then he was gone, closing the door behind him.
Jack got out of bed, and began dressing.
The time had arrived; it was here. Would
Nelly Parker come to bid him good-by?
There was a solitary breakfast spread for
him down-stairs by the light of a cluster of can-
dles. All the great spaces were chill and raw
with the winter morning. He ate a scrambling
meal, then pushed back his chair noisily. Per-
haps Nelly Parker had come down. She might
be in the drawing-room or library waiting for
him. He went out across the hall. There was
no one in the drawing-room but the negro
who was making a fire of logs. The smoke
rose in great volumes from the kindled light-
wood. Part of it escaped into the room, which
was full of the pungent smell of smoking wood.
"Do you know whether Miss Nelly's come
down yet, John? asked Jack.
The man looked over his shoulder. Miss
Nelly ?" said he. Um um, her won't be
down for um long time yet."
Some one came across the hall; it was Robin,
and he was carrying Jack's overcoat. "They
are waiting for you at the landing,-Master Jack,"
said he.
Then Jack, with a crumbling away of the
heart, knew that he was not to see her again.
Robin held the overcoat for him, and he
slipped his arms into it.
He went out of the house and down toward
the landing. The sun had not yet risen, and
the air of the winter morning was keen with the
cold frozen newness of the day. Here and
there, where the sodden snow of yesterday had
not all melted away, it had frozen into slippery
sheets. It clinched beneath Jack's tread. He
turned and looked back toward the house.
He could see her room; it was closed and dark.
Then he turned again and walked on once




more toward the landing. He confessed to
himself that he could almost have cried with
The boat was waiting for him.. The sailing-
master stood upon the wharf swinging and
slapping his arms. Jack climbed down into
the boat, and the sailing-master followed him.
The men shoved it off with a push of their oars,
and then began rowing away toward the
schooner. A light was still hanging in the
stays, burning pallidly in the increasing day-
light. Then they were aboard.
Jack went down into the cabin still gray with
the early light. Both his chests were there and
his two bundles. He sat down, almost over-
whelmed. By and by he came up on deck
again. They were out and away in the river
now. The sun had just risen, and the red
light lit up the fiont of the great house, now
standing out clear through the leafless trees.
Jack stood holding to the stays, looking out at
it. His throat choked and his eyes blurred,
and for a moment everything was lost to his
sight. She had not come to bid him good-by.

JACK had written from London almost as
soon as he had reached England. It was a
letter full of homesickness and longing. Two
months passed before he heard from Virginia,
and in the mean time so much had happened
that the first sharpness and vividness of the
almost overwhelming longing for Marlborough
had passed away. He reproached himself that
that was growing dull which once had been so
keen. Then one day a packet of letters came
for him from Virginia.
He was then living with his uncle in York-
shire. He was studying under a tutor. The
letters came for him in the afternoon; he laid
aside his books and turned them over. He
recognized one of them instantly; it was written
in a fine, slender hand, with sharp, pointed
letters. He held the letter in his hand, trying
to force himself to think and feel as keenly as
he once had done. He pressed the letter to
his lips, and then felt, somehow, foolish at
having done so. He lingered, holding it in his

hand for a long time; then he opened it. He
skimmed it over at first, and then read it
through more deliberately. It was full of little
bits of news. As he read it, he recalled an
image of Marlborough: the shaggy lawn, the
trees as he had last seen them with their bare
branches, between-which one could catch a
glimpse of the river and the distant further
shore. How strange and far away it seemed!
Then he began reading again:

We have had a deal of company for the last two
weeks [said the letter]. There was an Aunt came over
from the Eastern Shore. She brought my three Cousins
with her; and then my Uncle, James William, came
afterward with my other Cousin, a boy of thirteen ant
mightily spoiled, for he will talk at table and give his
opinion to my Father, who, as you know, can bear no
man's opinion but his own, much less a boy of thirteen.
But my Cousins are dear, sweet girls whom I have not
seen for nigh four years, they living so far away as to
make a journey of nigh a week to get there, and they to
get here. And so there hath been a deal of company;
for Harry Oliver and his sisters are here staying three
days together. The "Lyme" hath come back from
Jamaica, too; and so Mr. Maynard was here and
brought two young gentlemen who are Cadets along
with him, and so everything very gay. Well, I am gay,
too, and do enjoy myself, but, indeed, think oftener than
I choose to tell you of Some One a great ways off in
England, and you may guess whom I mean by that ....
Indeed, I was truly and truly sorry that I did not
wake to see you go away, for so I did intend to do,
though I told you I would not. And indeed I could
have boxed Chloe's ears that she did not wake me, for
so she was to have done; but she did not wake her-
self, so how could she wake me? I did not wake for
a good long time after the boat had gone, and when
I awoke the boat was way down the river at the bend.
Alack! I could have cried my eyes out. Do you believe
that ? Well, I did cry a little.

Jack sat thinking. He experienced a sort
of feeling of discomfort, as though he should
have felt more in reading the letter than he was
feeling. Then he began reading it again:

I had nigh forgot to tell you that my poor Uncle Rich-
ard is reported dead. He was in Jamaica, and Mr.
Maynard says he was shot, but how he could not tell.
So now the Roost is to be sold, and 't is likely that Papa
will buy it. Yesterday he said to Mama that if the Bal-
timore merchants had paid you a reward of six thousand
pounds instead of six hundred pounds for finding the
chest that time, it would be a fine thing for to use it
to buy the Roost for yourself, it being such a fine planta-


After Jack had finished reading the letter he
sat thinking for a long time. Would he ever
go back to Virginia again? Indeed he would.
Why should he go to Cambridge and go
through college except that his uncle, Sir
Roger, would have it so? He sat down the
same day and wrote to Nelly Parker, telling
her all about himself and his plans.

'T is all very fine here [said he] : a fine park of trees
and a lawn, and over to one side flower-gardens laid out
in patterns and scrolls, with box-bushes and hedges
trimmed into shapes of peacocks and round balls and
what not. My Uncle is as kind as ever he can be, only
sometimes he is cross. Well, he is a dear, good, kind
man. He treateth me very kindly, but yet 't is dull here,
and I do think of Virginia mightily often. More than
all else when I think of Virginia do I think of One who
is there, and wish I were back again. Ay, sometimes
I would give all the world if I could be back there in
Virginia again.

It was a great pleasure for him to write this,
and as he wrote his heart warmed and thrilled

Indeed I did look for you that morning [he wrote],
and hoped to say good-by to you again when there was
no one by to hear me say it, and went away so sad and
broken-hearted that I could almost have cried. I was
S so sad that I would have given all the world to be back
again. My Uncle intends that I shall go to Cam-
bridge College, and I study all day long with a Tutor;
but, methinks, I am slow and dull at learning, excepting
Latin and Greek, which my poor Father taught me when
I was a boy, and which I know well nigh as well as my
Tutor himself knoweth it. But yet if I could help it I
would not go to Cambridge College, but would go back
to Virginia again. Yet what can I do ? 'T is almost four
years now till I come of age and enter into mine own,
and then I can come and go as I please, and it shall be
that I shall come back to Virginia again.
Who, think you, I saw a short while ago? Who but
Israel Hands, who hath come back to England again.
He found me out where I was living, and came here beg-
ging. I did not know him at first, for he hath grown a
great, big, long beard; but he limps with the knee which
he saith is all stiff like solid bone, and he can only bend
it, as he showed me, a tiny bit. He hath grown mightily
poor, and is in want. My Uncle was vastly interested
about him, and would have him in to talk with him, and
he had something to eat and some beer in the kitchen.
I gave him some money and he went away happy. My
Uncle's man said that he had been drinking down in the
village that night, and so I do suppose spent all the
money I gave him poor wretch !

I do not think, I told you aught of my Cousin Edward.
Heis my Uncle's son, and is in the Guards : a great, tall,
handsome gentleman who was here a while since and
very kind to me, only he would forever tease me by
calling me his "Cousin, the Pirate," and asking me to
show him my pardon before he would own me. But of
course, you must understand, all this in jest.

Jack went to Cambridge College as his uncle
had intended. Four years passed. Letters be-
tween England and Virginia grew fewer and
fewer, and at last almost ceased.
'Jack was twenty years of age when his uncle
HeZekiah died. The old man left him a great
fortune of over twenty thousand pounds.
Upon the Attorney Burton's advice, Sir Roger
invested a part of the fortune in land in Vir-
ginia. "I have learned that much of the
Colony from my visit there," said the Attorney,
" to know that it will be a first-rate investment
and will increase, I know not how many times
in value, in the years to come."
The next year Jack left college, and in the
spring took passage to the Virginias along with
the Attorney Burton. He went to look at the
estates that had been purchased upon the Poto-
mac River.
Jack did not go directly with the Attorney
to his Potomac lands. He had determined to
go first of all to Marlborough, so he and the
Attorney parted company at Yorktown, the At-
torney going on up the Potomac and Jack up
the James. He had promised to join Mr. Bur-
ton at "Bellingham," as his estates were called.

Jack came out upon deck early in the morn-
ing. The first thing that he saw was a house
on the shore. He did not at first recognize it,
but almost instantly it flitted into his remem-
brance. It was the Roost. It stood out clear
and clean in the morning light. He stood
looking toward it for a long, long time. The
place was very much changed. There were
signs of cultivation. The roof had been re-
paired, and the house had been painted; and it
looked very different from what he had remem-
bered it.
Then the Roost dropped away until it was
lost behind the bend of the river.
It seemed to Jack as though they would



never reach Marlborough. He walked up and
down the deck again. At last they came
around the bend of the river, and the house
opened up slowly to view. How strange and
yet how familiar it looked, with its plain brick
facade. A curious spasm seemed to seize him
as he stood holding to the braces, gazing out
ahead at the great house. For the first time
he began to wonder whether the family would
be at home or not. The boat came nearer and
nearer. At last he could see that there were
people upon the lawn. There must be com-
pany at the house. He felt very much disap-
pointed that he should not, upon his first return,
see the family without strangers being by.
He walked up from the landing, alone. All
the faces were turned toward him as he ap-
proached. He saw Colonel Parker at once,
and Madam Parker, but he did not see Nelly
Parker until she arose. She had changed very
little, except that her slender, girlish figure
had rounded out into the greater fullness of
womanhood. She stood hesitating for a mo-
ment, and then came doubtingly forward. Jack
was looking straight at her. He had seen
that Harry Oliver was there.
"I see that you don't remember me," said
he, and then, as he spoke, instant recognition
shone in her eyes.
"Why, papa mama! she cried, "'t is
Jack Ballister!" And then they both came
forward to welcome him.
At once when Jack had seen her he felt an
awakening of all that old feeling that before
had stirred him. At once he knew the pos-
sibility of it all to be lying in his heart. He
looked steadily in her face. She was just as
she had been, only a little older. She was as
pretty as ever. Almost instantly he felt that it
was the same Nelly Parker that he had left
four years before.
"I hope that Mr. Ballister will remember
me," said Harry Oliver.
"Why, yes," said Jack; I am not likely to
forget you"; and he took the hand that was
He saw in the brief moment of looking that
Oliver had not improved any in his appearance.
He decided that Harry Oliver had not the look
of an Englishman of quality.

Jack felt very happy. He sat down, looking
about him. It was all just exactly as he re-
membered it. There did not seem to be any
change at all, excepting, perhaps, that the
house was not quite so large as he had held it
in his recollection.
After the first rush of question and answer
there fell a certain period of constraint. No
one seemed to know exactly what to say.
There were two other young gentlemen present
besides Mr. Oliver,L-two brothers named Nel-
son,-and there were three young ladies, one
of them a Miss Nelson. Jack did not know
any of them. He himself felt constraint in
their presence, and he thought they, too, felt a
certain embarrassment. He sat looking at
Nelly Parker. Her face was turned partly
away from him. How sweet and beautiful she
So your uncle, Sir Roger, bought a tract of
land for you up the Potomac ?" said Colonel
Why, yes," said Jack; he did, sir. 'T was
nigh Lord Fairfax's tract, I believe. At least,
't was so marked upon the chart."
Have you been there yet ? said Colonel
"No, sir," said Jack; "I have not. Mas-
ter Burton came over from England with me.
He left me at Johnstown to go up there. He
will get a land-surveyor ready for me against I
come, and then we are going to survey the
tract together. I came here to Marlborough
first thing of all, for what else should I do than
to come see you, sir, and you, madam, and
Miss Nelly, the first of all."
Colonel Parker smiled. "Thou hast grown
a fine, tall fellow, Jack," said he, and I did
not know you at first. You have a fine air
about you."
Jack laughed. "Methinks," said he, "-'t is
your own prejudice of kindness makes you
think that, sir. Now, I can say nothing better
than that you all look just the same as when I
left you. There is nothing better for one to
say than that."
"Why, Jack," said Madam Parker, "to be
sure you 've learned to make fine speeches
since you left us."
"'T is a noble, big tract of land of yours up



on the Potomac, Mr. Ballister," said Harry
Oliver. "I would.that I had as fine an estate
as that myself."
I hope you 've come to live among us, Mr.
Ballister," said Miss Nelson.
"That I know not yet," said Jack; I shall
live here for a time at least." He was looking
at Nelly Parker as he spoke. She had turned
her face toward him.
"For a time!" said she. "Do you mean,
then, to leave the Americas and go back to
England again? "
Jack looked steadily back at her. "Why,
that I cannot tell yet," said he; "but I shall be
here for a long time -mayhap long enough for
you to get tired of me."
"We 'll never grow.tired of you, Jack," said
Madam Parker; try us and see."
Jack still looked at Nelly Parker, waiting for
her to speak, but she said nothing.
At any rate, you will pay us a visit here at
Marlborough," said Colonel Parker, "will you
not ?"
"Why, yes," said Jack, "I would like right
well to stay here three or four days if you will
have me."
"Sir," said Colonel Parker, "I will take you
in for three or four weeks if you will have it so."
Jack laughed. "Your hospitality here in
America is ever of that noble sort," said he;
"I wish I might always find its like."
"So you may, sir," said Colonel Parker, "if
you will live here in America."
All the time of this -latter talk the guests sat
listening as if in some constraint.

Jack had determined to stay a week. It
seemed as though it was a long time that he
had promised himself. He felt rich with all
-that time in prospect. But day after day passed
by, and now it was the last evening before he
was to go away again. It was a lovely even-
ing. There was a full moon showing. There
had been a party of three young men who had
stayed to supper at Marlborough. They had
just ridden, away.
Jack and Nelly -Parker, who had come out
with them, had not gone back again into the

house. "What a fine night it is," said she,
looking up at the moon.
The sky was milky with the misty'moonlight,
and all the world seemed to be bathed in its
still glamour. The air was soft and mild. The
mocking-birds were singing in the distant woods,
and the air was filled with the piping of frogs.
There was a strange stillness everywhere. Jack
was looking at her face as she looked up at the
moonlight. It glistened in her black eyes.
Her face looked strangely pallid and colorless
and very beautiful.
"I can hardly believe," said Jack, "that the
week has gone by, and that to-morrow I must
go away. I did not know it was so lovely
"Why must you go away?" said she sud-
denly, looking at him. Can't you stay a little
longer ?"
"Why, no, I can't," said Jack; "I promised
Mr. Burton that I would be up at Bellingham
the last part of this week. Indeed, I must go;
but I will come back again if you will let me.
Don't go in yet. Let us walk up and down
here; 't is such a beautiful night."
We 're always glad to see you," said she;
I believe we think much more about you than
you do of us."
I don't believe you do," said Jack.
They walked up and down in silence. Every
now and then her dress touched him, and he
thrilled just as he used to do in the days before.
You will come again and see us soon ?"
said she, speaking softly.
"I 'll come if you '11 bid me to come," said
he. She did not reply; and then, after a while,
he said again: Do you bid me come? "
"Why, yes," said she; "to be sure I do.
We are all glad to see you and sorry for you
to go away again."
But you yourself," said he do you bid
me come?"
"Why, yes," said she, I do."
His heart thrilled again.
"Then I will come," said he.
They stopped before the door and stood a
moment; then they turned and went into the


VOL. XXII.-x 921

C :~~-r- ) -

1 ~H S

:--. _~~"Fl~~'r~;~e"LP~E~B~Rs~~--~

tId idling

C'lnlC LI its

there is a
noble horse
who plays a prom-
inent part in the legend.
S-- If we are to believe the story, he
was the first real flesh-and-blood horse of
which we have any account. Some men
say that he was the first animal of the kind that
ever lived, but this is doubtful. Snowy white,
without spot or blemish from the tips of his
ears to the tips of his amber hoofs, how he must
have astonished the simple-minded folk of Ce-
cropia when he leaped right out of the earth
at their feet! If you should ever go to Athens
and climb to the top of that wonderful hill
called the Acropolis, look around you. You
may see the very spot where it all is said to
have happened. But to the story.
Did I say that the people who lived there at
that time were simple-minded? Rather child-
like they were in some ways, and not so worldly-
wise as they might have been had they lived
some thousand years later; but they were neither
simpletons nor altogether savages. They were
the foremost people in Greece. It was all
owing to their king, wise old Cecrops, that they
had risen to a condition superior to that of
the half barbarous tribes around them. He had
shown them how to sow barley and wheat and
plant vineyards; and he had taught them to
depend upon these and their flocks and herds
for food, rather than upon the wild beasts of
the chase. He had persuaded them to lay
aside many of their old cruel customs, had set


tlieni 1 .r: nii[i- %. i ih en,-l it. :. .%n lI.:,rniie, ani
e s on one srcre ide and tin the r-iii 'mntains
tn the r. .IBt, strae. t.o sar i they ha d notuilr j
little ca,. :ind t : r.jte:t.:.l r v. iih \, r ail!s :i i;-,t
fica- ,inn. aJi-,ii t any attack 'fr'-in tiher tarli;e
rnei'-Z ,-,ir: and lr,,mn tlhi, [_,ira'[ a; a >c,,t:r thrl
!i, id. lIthd. _, linitl., ;,riii tileir influen.-: r.:,
the sea on one side and to the mountains on
the other. But, strange to say, they had not
yet given a name to their city, nor had they
decided which one of the gods should be its
On a certain day in autumn, after the grain
had been harvested and the grapes had been
gathered and made into wine, two strangers
suddenly appeared in the market place. No-
body knew whence the couple came, nor how
they had climbed the steep pathways and
entered within the walls unseen by any of the
The man, dark-haired, huge-limbed, and
strong, bore as his only weapon a trident, or
three-pronged harpoon, made of bronze. The
woman was tall and stately, with large, round
eyes, and long hair that fell in ringlets about
her shoulders, and she wore a gleaming helmet
upon her head, and carried a bright, round
shield upon her arm.
"What is the name of this city ? asked the
man of the wondering people in the market
It has no true name," answered one of the
wisest among them; "but we sometimes call it
Cecropia, or the city of Cecrops, the king who
founded it and is its ruler. The country round
about us is called Attica, or promontory, be-
cause it is bounded on three sides by the sea."
But where is your temple ? asked the wo-
man. And which of the gods have you chosen
to be your city's patron and guardian ? "


"Truly, we have but lately learned that
there are any gods," was the answer; and we
render homage unto them all. If we knew
which one of them would bless our people with
the richest gifts, that one should be our pa-
tron and guardian, and to that one we would
rear a temple. But how shall we know ? "
Do but lead us into the presence of the
king," said the strange man, and the matter
shall be decided at once."
It happened that at that very moment King
Cecrops was seated in his chair of state at the
gate of the market place, where he was wont
every morning to listen to the petitions of his
people and to dispense justice to rich and poor
alike. When the two strangers were led into
his presence he was so struck by their majestic
appearance that he arose and received them
standing, and in tones of humility and respect
bade them make known their names and their
My name," said the stately woman, "is
Athena; and it is I who give men wisdom and
skill and teach them the arts of peace and in-
struct them in all manner of handicraft. Make
me the patron and guardian of this beautiful
new city that you have builded, and its fame
and that of the people who dwell therein shall
be remembered forever."
"Not so!" cried her companion. "I am
Poseidon, the strong, the ruler of the sea, the
shaker of the earth; and I claim this city for my
own. Would you be rich and powerful, with
fleet ships upon the sea and great armies upon
the land ? Would you make yourselves feared
by all the nations of the earth ? Then accept
me as your patron, and build me a temple here
upon your Acropolis "
"Which shall it be, my people? asked King
Cecrops of the men that had gathered around.
" Which shall ive choose for our city's heritage,
Wisdom or Strength? "
Wisdom! cried some. Strength!" cried
others; and there was great confusion. Fi-
nally, an old man with white hair and very
long white beard made himself heard.
"It seems to me, O King," he said, "that
we should choose that god for our patron and
guardian who can give us the most substantial
blessings. We are a new people, and as yet we

know so little of either Wisdom or Strength thai
we are not qualified to judge which is best. But
let Athena and Poseidon each give us some-
thing, at once, as a sample of the blessings
which they promise us, and do you, O King,
with your twelve councilors, then decide which
has offered the better gift; and then we will
choose that one to be the patron and guardian
of our city, and to that onr we will erect a
temple here on our Acropolis."
"It is well! cried the king.
"It is well! said Athena and Poseidon.
It is well! echoed the people.
"And do you consent?" asked the king,
addressing the rival claimants.
"We consent," said they both. "We submit
to the trial at once; and do you and your coun-
cilors decide which of our gifts is more ac-
Then Athena touched the ground with her.
shield, and forthwith there sprang out two tiny
green leaves; and to these two other leaves
were added, and then others and others until a
slender twig appeared. Then the twig grew
into a spreading tree, with clusters of flowers
and rich, oil-producing fruit; and birds built
their nests among the branches, and the children
ran to play in the shade beneath.
"Behold the olive tree!" said Athena. "It
is my gift to you, and the emblem of the bless-
ings that I will confer upon your city."
Then Poseidon strode haughtily forward, and
smote the bare rock with his trident. So heavy
was his stroke that the entire hill trembled be-
neath it, and a deep, narrow cleft was opened
in the solid limestone. Then out of the fissure
there leaped a snow-white horse with flashing
eyes and arching neck and impatient feet. It was
the most wonderful creature that the people had
ever seen, and they were terribly frightened by
his sudden appearance. Many of them ran to
their houses and closed the doors behind them,
while others climbed upon the walls or sought
safety in the citadel.
"Behold the horse!" said Poseidon, "the
noblest of all beasts, man's best friend, the em-
blem of power and strength, and of your own
glorious future with me as your patron and pro-
tector !"
The king and his councilors sat for a long



time in silence, looking now upon the beautiful
but terrible animal, and now upon the tree with
its fruit and flowers and inviting shade. The
horse was by far the most attractive object that
they had ever seen, and the longer they looked
upon him the more their wonder grew.


"What shall we do with him now that we
have him ?" asked one.
"Will he feed the hungry ? asked another.
"Truly, he will be but an expensive luxury
to us," said a third, and not nearly so great a
blessing to our people as the olive tree."
And so they rendered their decision. Posei-
don's gift, they said, was a noble one, a wonder-

ful one; but Athena's was the better because it
promised the most substantial blessings to all
the people.
Athena shall be our patron and protector !"
cried they at last.
"And the name of our city shall be Athens,
and we are henceforth Athe-
nians cried all the people.
And they forthwith began to
clear the ground for the
erection of that world-re-
nowned temple to Athena,
the Parthenon, the ruins of
which still crown the sum-
mit of the Acropolis. And
Athena took up her abode
with them.
As for Poseidon, he strode
out of the gates in great
rage, and the hill shook
again under his heavy foot-
steps, as he descended to
the plain. He loosed all
the winds and sent them
hurtling against the walls
of Athens; and for twelve
days there were storms on
sea and land, the fiercest
that men had ever seen.
But what had those to
fear who had chosen Wis-
dom to be their protector
and friend?
The wonderful steed
which Poseidon had brought
out of the rock was a greater
terror than the storm, and
the good people were glad
to open the great gate, and
allow him to depart. Hav-
ing descended into the open
fields, he tossed his head
proudly, kicked his heels high into the air,
and set off at a great speed toward distant
Thessaly and the vast pasture lands of the
North. The men of Athens watched him
in his course across the plain. Swift as the
whirlwind, with his long mane floating grace-
fully over his back, he looked not unlike
some white-sailed vessel scudding before the



wind across the ruffled surface of the sea.
The people had been at a loss to find a
name for the strange creature, but they caught
eagerly at the suggestion that now offered
See cried one, "is he not a ship, a skiff
with sails ? "

"He is the Ship of the Plains! said another.
Yes, we will call him Skyphios, or the Ship
of the Plains!" cried they all.
And the men of Athens afterward claimed
that it was from Skyphios that the wild horses
of the Scythian desert nay, of all the world-
were descended.



SAID Mr. Alphonse Buffon Spyke,
"I think that all the birds that fly
Should have bird-houses, if they like,
As well as wrens and such small fry."

And since he built this bird-house street
His feathered friends no longer roam,
But from their doors his presence greet
By singing sweetly, Home, sweet home!''


ES ;' Jji I7 L"




THERMOPYLE had its messengers of death,
but the Alamo had none!" In these words
a United States Senator referred to one of the
most resolute and effective fights ever waged
by brave men against overwhelming odds in
the face of certain death.
Soon after the close of the second war with
Great Britain, parties of American settlers be-
gan to press forward into the rich, sparsely-
settled territory of Texas, then a portion of
Mexico. At first these immigrants were well
received, but the Mexicans speedily grew jeal-
ous of them and oppressed them in various
ways. In consequence, when the -settlers felt
themselves strong enough, they revolted against
Mexican rule and declared Texas to be an in-
dependent republic. Immediately Santa Anna,
the Dictator of Mexico, gathered a large army
and invaded Texas. The slender forces of the
settlers were unable to meet his hosts. They
were pressed back by the Mexicans, and dread-
ful atrocities were committed by Santa Anna
and his lieutenants.
In the United States there was great enthu-
siasm felt for the struggling Texans, and many
bold backwoodsmen and Indian fightersswarmed
to their help. Among these the two most fa-
mous were Sam Houston and David Crockett.
Houston was the younger man, and had al-
ready led an extraordinary and varied career.
When a mere lad he had run away from home
and joined the Cherokees, living among them

for some years; then he returned home. He
had fought under Andrew Jackson in his cam-
paigns against the Creeks, and had been se-
verely wounded at the battle of the Horseshoe
Bend. He had risen to the highest political
honors in his State, becoming governor of Ten-
nessee, and had then suddenly, in a fit of
moody longing for the life of the wilderness,
given up his governorship, left the States, and
crossed the Mississippi, going to join his old
comrades, the Cherokees, in their new home
along the waters of the Arkansas. Here he
dressed, lived, fought, hunted, and drank pre-
cisely like any Indian, becoming one of the
David Crockett was born soon after the
Revolutionary War. He, too, had taken part
under Jackson in the campaigns against the
Creeks, and had afterward become a man of
mark in Tennessee and gone to Congress as a
Whig; but he had quarreled with Jackson and
been beaten for Congress, and in his disgust he
left the State and decided to join the Texans.
He was the most famous rifle-shot in all the
United States and the most successful hunter,
so that his skill was a proverb all along the
David Crockett journeyed south, by boat
and horse, making his way steadily toward the
distant plains where the Texans were waging
their life and death fight. Texas was a wild
place indeed in those days, and the old hunter
had more than one hairbreadth escape from
Indians, desperadoes, and wild beasts before he


got to the neighborhood of San Antonio, and
joined another adventurer, a bee-hunter, bent
on the same errand as himself. The two had
been in ignorance of exactly what was the situa-
tion in Texas; but they soon found out that
the Mexican army was marching toward San
Antonio, whither they were going. Near the
town was an old Spanish fort, the Alamo, in
which the hundred and fifty American defend-
ers of the place had gathered. Santa Anna had
four thousand troops with him. The Alamo
was a mere shell, utterly unable to withstand
either a bombardment or a regular assault. It
was evident, therefore, that those within it
would be in the utmost jeopardy if the place
were seriously assaulted; but old Crockett and
his companion never wavered. They were fear-
less and resolute, and masters of woodcraft,
and they managed to slip through the Mexican
lines and join the defenders within the walls.
The bravest, the hardiest, the most reckless
men of the border were there: among them
were Colonel Travis, the commander of the
fort, and Bowie, the inventor of the famous
bowie knife. They were a wild and ill-disci-
plined band, little used to constraint or control,
but they were men of iron courage and great
bodily powers, skilled in the use of their wea-
pons, and ready to meet with stern and uncom-
plaining indifference whatever doom fate might
have in store for them.
Soon Santa Anna approached with his army,
took possession of the town, and invested the
fort. The defenders knew there was scarcely a
chance of rescue, and that it was hopeless to
expect that 150 men, behind defenses so weak,
could beat off 4000 trained soldiers well armed
and provided with heavy artillery; but they
had no thought of flinching, and made a des-
perate defense. The days went by and no help
came, while Santa Anna got ready his lines and
began a furious cannonade. His gunners were
unskilled, however, and he had to serve the
guns from a distance, for when they were
posted nearer the American riflemen crept
forward under cover and picked off the artil-
lerymen. Old Crockett thus killed five men at
one gun. But by degrees the bombardment
told. The walls of the Alamo were battered
and riddled; and when they had been breached

so as to afford no obstacle to the rush of his
soldiers, Santa Anna commanded that they be
The storming took place on March 6, 1836.
The Mexican troops came on well and steadily,
breaking through the outer defenses at every
point, for the lines were too long to be manned
by the few Americans. The frontiersmen then
retreated to the inner building, and a desperate
hand-to-hand conflict followed, the Mexicans
thronging in, shooting at the Americans with
their muskets, and thrusting at them with lance
and bayonet; while the Americans, after firing
their long rifles, clubbed them and fought des-
perately, one against many; and they also used
their bowie knives and revolvers with deadly
effect. The fight reeled to and fro between the
shattered walls, each American the center of a
group of foes; but for all their strength and
their wild fighting courage the defenders were
too few, and the struggle could have but one end.
One by one the tall riflemen succumbed, after
repeated thrusts with bayonet and lance, until
but three or four were left. Then these fell, too,
and the last man stood at bay. It was old
Davy Crockett. Wounded in a dozen places,
he faced his foes with his back to the wall,
ringed around by the bodies of the men he had
slain. So desperate was the fight he waged
that the Mexicans who thronged round about
him were beaten back for the moment, and no
one dared to run in upon him. Accordingly,
while the lancers held him where he was, for,
weakened by wounds and loss of blood, he
could not break out through them, the musket-
eers loaded their carbines and shot him down;
for Santa Anna declined to show him mercy.
Some say that when Crockett fell from his
wounds he was taken alive and was then shot
by Santa Anna's order; but his fate cannot be
told with certainty, for not a single American
was left alive. At any rate, after Crockett fell
the fight was over. Every one of the hardy
men who had held the Alamo lay still in death.
Yet they died well avenged, for four times their
number of foes fell at their hands in the battle.
Santa Anna had but a short while in which
to exult over his bloody and hard-won victory.
Already a rider from the rolling Texas plains,
going north through the Indian Territory, had



told Houston that the Texans were up and their forces, i oo stark riflemen, and at the bat-
were striving for their liberty. At once in tie of San Jacinto he and his men charged
Houston's mind there was kindled a longing the Mexican hosts with the cry of" Remember
to return to the men of his race in the time of the Alamo! Almost immediately the Mexi-
their need. Mounting his horse' he rode by cans were overthrown with terrible slaughter.
night and day, and was hailed by the Texans Santa Anna himself was captured, and the free-
as a heaven-sent leader. He took command of dom of Texas was won at a blow.



" Now this is A," mama would say
"And this is Q, and this is U,
And this is I.
Now say them- try."
Oh! Tommy was a youngster yet
To learn to say his alphabet;
But, bless his heart! though he was small,
He knew his letters -nearly all.
So mother pointed, and her son
Began to name them, one by one.

"This one?" "It's B." "And this?" "It's C."
"And this ? It 's L; I know it well."
"Nay; try again "
" It must be N."
"And this one?"-pointing to an I -
"That 's YOU!" was Tommy's quick reply.
Mama, the error to undo,
Now pointed to the letter U.
Small Tommy pondered; then quoth he,
His face aglow with smiles, "That's ME !"




[Begun in the May number.]
IT seemed absolutely necessary for Carrots
to talk at great length about the farm, before
he was willing to settle down to business as his
partner wished; and then the two made a hearty
supper from a bologna sausage, some buns,
and some seed-cakes, which the proprietor of
the house had purchased in order to prepare.
"a parting feast."
"Well, now, let's come down to the busi-
ness that 's got to be settled, Carrots," Teddy
said gravely, as he took from his pocket a col-
lection of coins. You want back the forty-three
cents you paid inter the concern, an' then, of
course, what you made to-day all goes to your-
self. I don't have any interest in it."
"That ain't the right thing to do. I took in
sixty-five cents, an' half of it belongs to you."
"There 's no need of dividin' it, 'cause I
made fifty-two myself; so let each fellow keep
his profits, an' it '11 be fair. Now here 's the
rest of your money," and Teddy pushed to-
ward him a small pile of nickels and pennies.
I don't want to take it," Carrots objected,
mournfully. "When I 'm away I 'd rather
think some of my money was here, an', perhaps,
when I come back on a vacation, I '11 need a
little. Then you can let me have it."
Teddy would have preferred to settle the
business at once; but Carrots appeared so anx-
ious to have a pecuniary interest in the city,
that he said in conclusion:
"Well, we '11 let it go your way, Carrots, an'
when you come back I '11 be here, 'less some-
thin' happens to me."
Then the two -talked further of the farm, and
suddenly Carrots was reminded of a very im-
portant piece of business.
"Well, I '11 be jiggered If I did n't forget
VOL. XXII.-- 17. 9

all 'bout that lawyer! Now it would n't do
to slip up on him, would it ?"
Of course not."
"Why could n't you go over every morning'
an' fix the thing?"
I can, Carrots, an' I will. It's no more 'n
right, 'cause you made the debt on my ac-
count, an' I ought ter pay it. Say, I don't
s'pose you 'd care if I should use your box
while you 're gone, would you? I 've been
thinking perhaps by carrying' the outfit with me
I might get a chance to black boots when
business was dull."
"Of course you can; but you must keep
your eye peeled pretty slick, 'cause the fellows
don't like to see a boy try to run both kinds
of work, an' they '11 be apt to make a row."
"I '11 risk that part of it. Now, is there
anything else I can do for you ?"
"No; I believe that 's all. Of course you '11
keep the house? Nobody knows of it but
Teenie, an' perhaps he won't tell."
"I must take the chances of that; but I
reckon Skip Jellison 's goin' to make it mighty
hot for me. I '11 keep an eye out for him."
By this time the boys, were sleepy; and until
morning Carrots dreamed of the ideal life
which he was to lead in the country.
At an early hour next day they betook them-
selves to the basement restaurant on Baxter
street, where Carrots, who fancied he would
always have plenty of money, now he had been
engaged as a farmer, insisted on paying the
entire cost of both breakfasts; and then the
two separated with the promise of meeting at
eleven o'clock at South Ferry.
During the forenoon Teddy was not inter-
rupted in his labors, perhaps because he did not
go near the City Hall, and business was so
flourishing that he felt sorry when Carrots came
to say it was time they started for the market
to meet the farmer.


The young gentleman -who was about to
take up his residence in the country unslung
his blacking-box from his shoulder as he said:
I told that lawyer you'd be there after this,
an' he said, 'All right.' I don't s'pose he cares,
so long 's he gets his boots blacked, who does it."
"I '11 'tend to him in great shape, so you
need n't worry."
Then the two walked briskly along the water-
front until they were at the market, when Car-
rots pointed toward an old wagon drawn by two
mules, as he exclaimed: That team b'longs
out to the farm where I 'm goin'. I tell you,
I '11 have them mules looking' better 'n they do
now, before next week."
"Take care they don't kick you, Carrots;
they 're great on showing' their heels," Teddy
replied warningly.
"I 'd like to see the mule that could get
away with me," Master Carrots said contemptu-
ously; and just then the farmer came out of a
neighboring shop, looking around as if in search
of some one or something.
"He 's after you," Teddy said. "I reckon
I 'd better say good-by now. You '11 find me
in the packin'-cases, if you come after dark."
It '11 be a good while before you see me,"
Carrots replied confidently, as he shook his
friend's hand warmly; and then the two parted.
During the three days following Carrots's de-
parture, Teddy succeeded in the work beyond
his most sanguine expectations.
He had been careful to remain away from the
places most frequented by Skip Jellison, but
was forced to change his business location sev-
eral times, owing to the trouble which he had
with boys who, as Carrots had predicted, were
jealous because he both blacked boots and sold
Still, he had succeeded in saving two dol-
lars and twenty-five cents, in addition to which
he had quite a store of provisions packed snugly
away in a box, and, as he said in a tone of sat-
isfaction on this third night after counting his
funds and examining the contents of the larder,
"had been playing' in mighty big luck."
During all this time he had seen nothing of
Teenie Massey, who, now that Carrots was
away, was the only boy he knew well.
Neither had he met any of the party whom

he saw on his introduction to the city, and it
seemed as if they might not give him any fur-
ther trouble.
I reckon I can pick up what money I need
to start the stand, by keeping' on the same way
I 've begun," he said to himself. It may be
business is better 'round City Hall; but it does
n't stand to reason I could earn so very much
more up there than I 'm doin' now, an' shiftin'
about so often I '11 have a better chance for
finding' out where a stand ought ter be put."
It can thus be seen that Master Thurston
was on very good terms with himself, and feel-
ing perfectly satisfied with his attempt to earn
a livelihood in the metropolis. As Carrots had
dreamed of the farm, so Teddy had often
pictured to himself how he would live and con-
duct his business when once the stand was an
assured fact; and while in the midst of these
pleasing anticipations he was startled, almost
frightened, by a sound as of some person
making his way across the litter with which the
yard was strewn.
His first act was to extinguish the candle, lest
the rays of light should betray his whereabouts,
for he had no doubt that the intruder was Skip
Jellison, with, probably, a number of followers.
With such thoughts in his mind it cannot be
wondered at that he was startled beyond the
power of speech when he heard the familiar
voice of Carrots in a cautions tone:
"It's only me! Don't get flustered!" and an
instant later the would-be farmer was once
more inside the packing-case dwelling.
Good gracious! Where 'd you come
from?" Teddy cried, after standing like a
statue for several seconds.
From the farm; that 's where I come
from!" Carrots replied in an angry tone.
Got through so soon as this, have you ?"
"You can jest bet your sweet life I have!
Why, I would n't stay out there a month if
they 'd give me the whole place, an' all the
animals there was on it! That man was a reg'-
lar old old he 's an old skeesicks, that 's
what he is! "
"Sit down, so 's to tell me all 'bout it;"
and Teddy relighted the candle in order to
have a good look at the amateur farmer.
Carrots was disconsolate and discouraged,


and the dust on his boots told of a long walk
over country roads.
Got anything to eat? he asked; and even
his voice sounded hungry.
Teddy opened the cigar-box refrigerator, re-
vealing to view a plentiful supply of provisions.
The newcomer did not need an invitation to
begin the meal.
He attacked the food as if he had had no-
thing to eat since leaving the city, and Teddy
refrained from asking any questions until his
hunger should be appeased.
Well," Carrots said, after an enormous meal,
"what do you think of me now?"
"I 'd say you was
hungry, an' I guess that
comes pretty nigh bein'
the truth."
"That's a fact; an'
I should n't be lyin' so
very bad if I told you I
had n't had anything to
eat since I left. Talk
'bout good livin' in the
country! Why, a fellow
'd starve to death there
in a week! I never saw '.-vT
sich a place! 'Bout
the time you go to sleep
they call you to get
up; an' I do believe
yesterday it was n't more 'n late in the evening'
when that farmer yelled for me to turn out an'
feed the stock. Feed the stock Well, now,
I '11 tell you what I wanted to feed my-
self, but did n't get the chance!"
"So you found out that livin' on a farm
was n't so pleasant as you thought ? Teddy
said laughingly; for he had a very good idea
of what Carrots's experiences might have been.
"It's a reg'Iar swindle an' humbug; that's
what it is. An' if all farmers are like that old
fellow I went out with, I don't see how they
keep anybody with 'em."
S'posin' you begin at the start, an' tell me
all 'bout it? "
"Well, I will." And, arming himself with a
few slices of bologna in case his appetite should
get the best of him, Carrots began the story.
"That man was sweeter than pie all the time

I was ridin' home with him, an' you 'd thought
he loved me 'most to death till we got to the
farm. Then I helped unharness them plaguy
old mules, an' one of 'em fetched me a kick
with his heels that left a black-an'-blue spot on
my leg bigger 'n the whole front of the City
Hall. I up with a club, an' was goin' to knock
the life out er him; but the farmer caught me
by the collar, an' shook me till I thought my
head would fly off."
He wanted to sort of introduce you to the
place, I s'pose."
"Well, I reckon he did it pretty well. My
heels knocked together like a pair of clappers,



an' it seemed to me I could hear my head
crack, the same way a whip does when you
snap it. Well, after the old fellow got through
paralyzin' me, an' I was kind er steady on my
feet once more, he told me to go to work an'
clean out the stable. Why, Teddy, the job he
set me at would have taken three men a month;
an' he 'lowed I was to have it all done before
night! You see, I did n't have any dinner, an'
had heard so much 'bout how they lived in the
country that I thought. I 'd kind er like to
sample the cooking So I asked him if he
did n't think it would be best to have some
grub before I tackled sich a job as that. I
don't know what he thought 'bout it, 'cause he
did n't say a word; jest walked right away an'
left me. Jiminy crickets! How I did sweat!
But I thought to myself, I '11 do my level best
so he '11 know he 's got a mighty good man.


An' I '11 be blamed if when that old duffer
came out he did n't act as if he thought I
must have been loafin'!"
How long did he leave you working' ?"
"From the time we got there till pretty nigh
night. Then he said I was to go down to the
pasture an' bring up the cows. Well, now,
I 'm a dandy to bring up cows! Never saw
one before. I was n't goin' to let on that I
did n't know the whole thing, so I walked
down big as life. He told me where the
pasture was, an' I cleaned her right out. Took
every blamed thing in there an' drove 'em up.
Well, you jest bet he was mad! He wanted
to know why I did n't leave the oxen behind,
an' what I was doin' with the sheep, an' how I
ever expected to catch them two colts ag'in?.
I asked him to tell me how I was goin' to
sort 'em out when they was running' all 'round.
Said I was hungry, an' did n't have time for
sich jobs. Why, Teddy, there was one of them
sheep what had horns on; I could n't have got
rid of it if I 'd stayed there a month. Knocked
me down twice before I could even get the
bars fixed. He acted like the goats you see
up in Shantytown, an' looked a good deal like
Skip Jellison in the face. I did n't bigger on
sheep bein' ugly. I was n't so awful scared at
first, for I 'lowed he was playing an' got up
soon 's I could. The next thing I was down
ag'in, like one of them babies at a fair what
you throw balls at."
"It was an old ram, I s'pose. I should have
thought you 'd looked out for him."
"You jest bet I did after that; but I had n't
time then, you see. Why, he was all over that
pasture quicker 'n you could wink. After a
while I got 'round by the other side of the
fence, let down the bars, an' then sneaked up
through the bushes till I got the whole lot of
'em inter line. Then I kept clubs flyin' so they
jest had to scoot, an' afterward-- an' afterward,
Teddy, what do you s'pose ?"
"Why, how do I know ? "
"That old skinflint said I had n't any busi-
ness running' cows jest before they was milked!
I s'pose he thought I ought to stood there and
let that ram have fun with me. Well, it took
him an' me pretty nigh an hour to get 'em un-
tangled, an' then he told me to drive 'em back

to the pasture. I told him I 'd go home before
I 'd trust myself in the lane alone with that
black-faced sheep of his ag'in. Then he said I
could n't have any supper, so I started down
once more, picked up plenty of rocks, an' after
a while got 'em in. Then I came back to the
house hungrier 'n a bear. He had the nerve,
after all that, to tell me he was a man of his
word, an' so long as he 'd promised I should
n't have any supper, he 'd stick to it. I did n't
get any, either! Why, I could have eaten a
brick that night, if there 'd been butter on it."
"Did n't you have a thing to eat ?"
"Not so much as a bite. I did n't want to
come back an' say I 'd got tired in less 'n a
day, so thought I 'd make the best of it, an',
perhaps, in the morning' things would be better."
"Of course then you got your breakfast."
Oh, yes; then I got my breakfast! Want
to know what I had? Well, if Mose Pearson
flashed up sich grub, an' asked me to pay five
cents for it, I 'd tell him to go off somewhere
an' lose hisself. There was three slices of some
kind er bread all full of hard lumps. It tasted
bad when you got one of 'em in your mouth.
I thought they was plums first, an' took four of
'em. You ought ter seen me when I found out
my mistake! Then there was some fried pork,
an' jiminy crickets was n't it salt ?"
"Was that all they had? "
"There was a big dish of something' I called
puddin'. I reckon it was made of apples
smashed up, an' I guess there was some mo-
lasses in it, only I could n't taste any. I spread
a little on the bread, an' had to eat it, of course.
Then I put some on the pork, an' got sick. I
was through breakfast, an' all hands went out-
doors. Why, look here, Teddy; it was n't
daylight, an' I 'd been up as much' as three
quarters of an hour! The farmer asked me
if I could feed the calf. I told him if the calf
did n't get any more to eat than I had since
I 'd been there, I could feed him an' not half
try. That made him kind er mad; but he
did n't say much, an' showed rie how to go
to work. If I had to feed that calf for a week,
I would n't have more 'n one hand left, an' not
the whole of that."
"I know what it is," Teddy said sympatheti-
cally. Well, what else did you do ? "



Little of 'most everything, till it seemed as
if my legs an' arms would drop off. Got some-
thin' to eat at dinner, though, an' that helped
along; but when I turned in last night -say,
Teddy, I allers wanted to know what a bed
was like; but when you tell 'bout getting' com-
fort out er a blanket stretched over a lot of
ropes, why, I ain't in it at all! When I went
up-stairs last night it seemed as if I was goin'
all to pieces, an' I thought of you jest as snug
in here as a bug, takin' your comfort counting'
the money; an' I says to myself, The farm 's
no place for me, if my name is Carrots, so I '11

take a sneak.' I got out of the window after
the folks was asleep, an' I've walked ever since."
"How far was it ?"
"A man said it was sixteen miles; but if it
was n't fifty my name 's Dennis! Now I 'm
here, an' I 'm goin' to stay. Say, ain't it time
to go to bed ?"
"I reckon it is for you, Carrots; so turn in,
an' I '11 keep awake a little longer. See you in
the morning old man."
"So long," Carrots replied sleepily;' and al-
most before the words had been uttered his
eyes were closed in slumber.

(To be continued.)


ojgby, man!y
oihty, to ty grumpity man
Finding fault since your life-began

Pity we have rit a comet or two
To carry or passengers such as youL!





IT was long past midnight, and yet I was
leaning on the rough tree-rail of the high piazza,
enjoying my garden. It is nbt often at that
hour that one has opportunity to enjoy a flower-
garden, and I certainly should not have had
except for a little rankling needle of anxiety,
that-made its point felt in every inch of con-
sciousness whenever I tried to sleep. The anx-
iety was about the boys, who had gone off on a
bear-hunt, and the point that kept turning itself,
so that I felt the prick every minute in a new
place, was whether they had killed the bear
or the bear had killed them.
We had all been sitting together quietly in
the big family room, watching the little flashes
and living tongues of flame which flickered out
from the spent logs of our summer-evening fire,
and thinking it was time to light the candles
and go to bed, when the loose rattling of a
country one-horse wagon had broken the quiet
of our road-track, and coming to a stop in
front of the door with a suddenness that had
the effect of a bang, had been followed by a
tremulous hammering of the knocker.
Generally we say, Come in," when any one
knocks, for that is received Onteora custom;
but in this case Harry opened the door. When
the upper square of it swung back, it seemed to
open from a framed half-length portrait of a
gpod-looking country boy, with a blue moonlit
sky for a background, the face well lit up by
our interior lamp- and fire-light.
The portrait looked relieved when it recog-
nized Harry, and there was at once a low com-
munication between them, of which we heard
only an occasional word -"bear," "upper
pasture," "half an hour"; and now there
were three boys' heads together, for Dunham
had joined the others.
Our boys are great hunters. Harry has killed
his grizzly bear and mountain sheep in the
Rocky Mountains during his college vacations,

and Dunham can shoot almost as well as he.
Consequently the armament of these boys, as.
well as their prowess, is a matter discussed in
all the barns of all the farms along the side
of the mountains. *One corner of the family
room is called the armory "; for it is occupied
entirely by guns and rifles, boxes of shells, and
the things which hunters seem never to have
enough of; and our hunters cannot understand
why bottles of oil, and oily black rags, and steel
rods with brushes on the ends are not legitimate
garnishings of the dinner-table during the hours.
when meals are not served.
Of course the colloquy at the door ended by
a rush to the armory corner, and a selection
of certain things which were handed out to the
portrait, while a three-at-a-time mounting of the
stairs and back again effected a change into big
boots and leather jackets with pockets into
which shells and things were quickly stuffed.
The rattly wagon was turned around by this
time. There was a little consultation about
dogs, which ended in the two big staghounds,
" Cooper" and Hewitt," and horrid little
"Snap," Harry's Rocky Mountain mongrel,
being let out of the outside kitchen, and all
prancing off together in the brilliant moonlight
-the lean old farm-horse, the two country
boys, who belonged on a wild farm a mile or
so away, our two boys, and the trio of dogs.
The reason we all detested Snap was that
one day, soon after Harry brought him to
Onteora, he and Dunham had decided to drive
over to Catskill Mountain House and interview
Mr. Beech about the prospects of the season
for game; and as Snap insisted upon being of
the party, Harry had taken him up-stairs to his
bedroom, and shut him in while he and Dun-
ham drove away.
While the bedrooms were being done up"
we heard the most explosive and tremendous
barking, then a slam of a door, and Mary came


half tumbling down the stairs, looking fright-
ened and confused, and showing us a bleeding
wrist with marks of teeth upon it. She had
opened Harry's door, and the dog had tried to
keep her out; and when she paid no attention
to him, he had flown at her and bitten her on
the wrist.
Of all possible elements of dismay to intro-
duce into a houseful of women a mad dog is
one of the worst, and we felt sure that Snap was
mad. Everything was against him: his uncer-
tain origin, his wild life in the far-off Rockies,
his habits of subsistence upon the flesh of wild
animals we were sure that his sudden trans-
ference from that kind of life to civilization had
driven him mad. And what could we do for
Mary, with the only doctor in the two-mile-away
village, and the boys off with the horses? What
we did was to hunt up a razor, and try to bring
her courage to the point of cross-slashing the
tooth-prints, and to wash the wounds well with
salt and water, and start her off on a long
tramp to the village to be cauterized. And
when a day of much anxiety was over, broken
by occasional visits to Harry's door, every creak
of the floor being greeted by loud barkings
from within, Harry and Dunham returned, full
of enjoyment from their excursion. Harry!
Harry!" I exclaimed as soon as his foot was
on the piazza, Snap has gone mad and bitten
Mary I "
"Why, Gran, where is he? How do you
know ?"
"He is up in your room. He flew at her
when she went in to make the bed, and he
goes into perfect frenzies if one goes near the
A sudden red look of guilt appeared on
Harry's face, and the anxiety and astonish-
ment seemed to melt away.
"Why, Gran, he is n't mad! He thought he
was keeping camp! "
"Keeping camp," said I slowly, while a per-
fect comprehension of the truth flashed into my
mind. "What do you mean ?"
Why, you know when we went on long hunts
away from camp we used to put Snap in
charge, and neither man nor beast could come
near it. We never had a pound of provision
stolen while Snap was in charge." And under

cover of this defense he disappeared up the
stairs, bringing the wriggly, leaping, barking
dog down with him.
But I would have none of him. "He bit
Mary," I reiterated in answer to all Harry's ex-
cuses; and although I was inexpressibly relieved
by the explanation, the incongruity of a camp-
keeper of this character, and our well-bred and
peaceful cabin in the Catskills, was always pres-
ent in my mind.
About this time Mark Twain came to visit
us, and he had a habit of making midday lunch
his principal meal, so when six-o'clock dinner
came he would walk up and down the room,
crossing it diagonally, and telling us the most
amusing stories while we ate our dinner. He
always put on low-heeled slippers for this
promenade, and something about the singular-
ity of the proceeding as a whole inspired Snap
with distrust. He followed Mr. Clemens up
and down, up and down, the room, occasionally
sniffing at the low-heeled slippers; and when a
louder burst of laughter than usual greeted
some of the delightful stories, Snap would growl
and try to worry the peripatetic foot-gear, until
Mr. Clemens became conscious of him, and
slowly turned a wondering consideration upon
This was Snap, who had gone off, wriggling
and prancing, with the stately great staghounds,
without the slightest consciousness of his own
vulgar plane of character in the dog world.
Whenever I characterize Snap as a vulgar dog,
Hgrry always says:
Gran, you are very narrow and aristocratic
in your notions. There must be grades of
dogs and men in the world, or the different
kinds of work would never be done." All the
same, I cannot understand the good-natured
tolerance of boys and men for dogs and people
who are not up to the mark.
Now, all this was far enough away from my
thoughts while I sat that late August night,
leaning on the rough piazza rail, and looking
out at my garden.
It was beautiful in the moonlight, but I no-
ticed that you could not see the blue flowers.
The great patch of larkspur which was so bril-
liantly, almost burningly, blue in the day-time
was just a part of the night, and could not be


distinguished; and the yellow and orange nas-
turtiums did not show themselves nearly so
bravely as by daylight. They quite melted
into the shadow of the stone wall along which
they grew, leaves and flowers and all. You
might have thought all the flowers were leaves,
and all the leaves were flowers; but the blos-
soms sent up a spicy odor into the moonlit air,
which encircled the garden like an invisible
wreath. You knew they were there by their
breath, even if you could not distinguish them.
But the scarlet flowers you could see very
well. There were three or four great double
poppies, which seemed to burn faintly in the
moonlight. It looked as if the garden had
been stuck here and there with a smoldering
torch; and all along the middle path, where
the sweet-peas were growing thickly, there was
a swarm of blossoms, white and pink, which was
even more beautiful by night than by day. The
little dots of color were just softened by the
moonlight, and melted together, and you could
almost see the odor. I fancied it rising in a
thread-like spiral from each flower until at a cer-
tain height it began to spread into a little pink
and pearly mist, and fuse itself with the odor of
the others, and become an invisible cloud of
fragrance which spread itself and blew hither
and thither in the soft night air. Some part of
it was constantly touching my face, little edges
of it which floated now near me and now away.
I had a fancy, since I could feel it melt along
my lips, to stretch out my hands and waft it
toward me, until I was enveloped in a cloud, of
.Jeavenly sweetness. And why not? We know
now that sound has shape, and shape means
body, even if it is impalpable, and we perceive
that odors must have cloud-like bodies, even
although they are too ethereal for sight. I
thought of it as the breath of the flowers, and
felt a sense of living the night in company with
all these breathing efforts of nature's beauty.
Oh, my dear garden! It is like living with
cherubs and angels and birds of paradise to
live neighbor to you, and breathe your breath,
and enter into your beauty by day and by
night. All the great solemn night bent over
us, over the garden, and over me. I felt my-
self brooded by it, as if it cared for and was
conscious of me.

Right at my hand, where I could put it out
and touch their bluish bloom, rose up the tops
of two slender young spruce-trees, and over
near the great boulder-piled wall stood a fifteen-
year-old apple-tree, with all the charm of youth
upon it, although it was filled and clustered
with ripe, red, sweet apples.
The youth of trees always has a peculiar
charm for me -the charm of girlhood and
boyhood. Some trees are like young athletes-
you can almost fancy them throwing themselves
into attitudes, and playing strong and graceful
games together, like a field of college boys.
And how feminine is my young, sweet apple-
tree! -a smart young Hebe, bringing globes
of solid wine, and offering them with out-
stretched fingers to all comers.
How heavenly gracious I feel it to be of all
this beauty to live and flourish under my very
house-eaves, to cluster next the family, to be a
part of it! I am sure it makes us good; for
who could be churlish, or ungrateful, or selfish,
with a garden full of wonder-growing miracles in
color and form and fragrance leaning against
the family life.
Now, as I leaned over and enjoyed my gar-
den, my beds of softly breathing pansies and gay
young phlox, my two strong young spruces, with
their slender steeples of blue bloom, my apple-
tree, red in the moonlight with its overgrowing
richness of fruit, I was suddenly conscious of
something which intruded, something which
seemed not quite harmonious with the blue and
gold night, and the near beauty of the garden,
and the far beauty of the hills.
Yes, there was something strong, and gross,
and animal; a black and clumsy shape moving
on softly padded feet, but with rustling and
clumsy body, along the stone wall of the gar-
den. It was chumping and mouthing my ripe,
sweet apples, where they had fallen on the wet
grass from the out-reaching branches. I felt
my hair rise in a sort of antagonism at the
musky grossness of the creature, even before I
recognized it, and knew it for a bear.
My thoughts flew to the boys who were
dragging through the rough, dew-wet woods
miles away, looking for this very beast or its
mate, and I felt a sort of indignation mingling
with my surprise and dislike. Suddenly the



shape rose on its hind feet, and surveyed the
garden; then, with a motion that seemed alto-
gether too light for its.great bulk, dropped over
on the garden side, among my flowers, among
my apples, and, worse than all, near to a bench
spread with bowls of fresh, clear crab-apple
jelly, left out to harden in the air.



I had made it, and I knew that it was the per-
fection of jelly, clear as spring water, pink as
blossoms, and flavored with sprigs of lemon
verbena. It was perfection when it was made,
and my leaving it for twenty-four hours in the
garden was a sentiment, a sort of charm, a bap-
tism of sun and dew; and now it was in close
view and neighborhood of this gross, moving
compactness of animalism! All the poetry of
my beautiful success at his mercy! But the
VOL. XXII.-ii8.


very neighborhood of the creature was enough
to destroy it, I thought angrily, and it might as
well complete the destruction; and in a mo-
ment I saw the great hairy muzzle mouthing
and slobbering over the bowls, rolling them
around, and breaking them against one another,
and all with a bestial enjoyment which was in-



ranted not to upset, and launched it at the

creature. It must have grazed his ear, for,

exresy exl y asperating, and which made me
almost frantic. Looking about for the form of
words suited to the occasion, I laid hands first
upon my heavy glass inkstand, of the kind war-
ranted not to upset, and launched it at the
creature. It must have grazed his ear, for,
without stopping his slobberings, he wiped the
ear with his paw, and paid no further attention.
Then I explored my wood-box, and found a
quantity of hard chunks of wood, which had


been chopped for my little bedroom stove. All
these I carried out, and aimed one after an-
other at this natural enemy, and sent them fly-
ing at him through the air.
They were to him like so many mosquitos.
The bear never looked up until he had finished
my ethereal food, and then he lifted his head,
and regarded me stupidly and yet cunningly,
exactly as a pig will look at you from his pen.
He evidently took in the sense of the position
perfectly, recognized my feelings, in short, and
weighed the circumstances. It was not worth
while to attempt to retaliate. The posts of
the upper piazza were slender and high; he
knew that this accounted for my attack, and
with a grunt of derision and contempt he
dropped himself over the wall, and seemed to
melt at once into the woods, and was gone;
It was curious how all the harmony and
beauty of the night seemed to have gone too-
broken up and destroyed by his presence, by
the aggressive animal power and influence. It
was as if the better part of it -the spirit of it
all-had flown off on unseen wings, and left a
soulless beauty in its place; and while I sat dis-
contentedly feeling this, there came up the
road and along the air the unmistakable rattle
of the one horse farm-wagon, and there were
the boys again.

I unbolted the front door, and brought out
a plate of sandwiches to them and their driver
companions, and gave the limp, tired dogs each
one, and waited until they were shut up, and
the boys were in the house stripping off their
jackets, before I said:
"Well, did you see the bear? "
No; we followed it over the crest of North
Mountain, but it was no good trying to get
down the front, and the dogs got dead dis-
couraged. They had two or three tussles with
it, but it got away before we could get anywhere
near, and finally we gave it up and came home."
What a pity you went," said I, for if you
had been at home you might have shot one in
my flower-garden."
This statement was received in silence, but
with rather a puzzled look at each other, which
seemed to say: "Well, we '11 have to stand
the chaffing anyway."
And I let it rest there, for I knew those boys
were capable of rousing out the dogs again,
and following the bear over ledges and preci-
pices into the East Kill Valley; but I had it all
out at breakfast the next morning, and took
them into the garden, and showed them the
ruins of my jelly bowls and the prints of great
padded feet on the flower-beds.
"Jee-whillikens! said Harry.


(Seventeenthi faer of the series "North American Quadrufeds.")


HAIL to the great American giant of the
forest! Behold his vast bulk towering into
the air on legs like inverted lamp-posts, his
sides covered with brown-black thatch, two im-
mense snow-shovels for antlers, a ponderous
overhanging nose like nothing else under the
sun-and greet the MoosE. In size and
strength he is the greatest
MOOSE. of all living deer, and when
(A l'ces A -mer-i-can'us.)
(ces A-mer-c's.) he is gone this world will
never see his like again. Not only is he the

/ %

largest living member of the Deer Family, but,
in every respect save weight, he is also the most
gigantic of all our land quadrupeds.
A very large male Moose stands six feet six
inches in height at the shoulders, fair measure-
ment; and the heaviest dressed carcass I ever
heard of (shot by Mr. W. L. Miller) weighed
one thousand one hundred and twenty-three
pounds, indicating a live weight of about fifteen
hundred. The largest pair of Moose antlers
I ever saw are owned by Mr. Albert Bierstadt,
and measure five feet five inches in width.
Like the elk, caribou, and all other members
of the Deer Family (Cer'vi-dce), the Moose has
solid, branching antlers (not "horns"), which
are shed and renewed every year. His, how-
ever, are flattened out very broadly, or "pal-
mated," into great concave shields of solid
bone. The antelopes, sheep, and cattle have
horns, consisting of a horny sheath growing
over a bony core, and, except in one instance,
they are never shed.
Bear in mind these simple facts, and you
will have no more trouble in bringing together
the members of the Deer Family.



Truth compels the statement that, considered
artistically, the Moose is a very homely crea-
ture; his legs and his head are too long, and
his neck and body too short for beauty. He
has a high and sharp crest on his shoulders,

in the form of forest, swamp, or prairie, cov-
ered with snow, mud, or water. His favorite
gait is a long, swinging trot, and his speed and
endurance surpass those of any ordinary trotting-
horse. In small lakes and ponds he strides


coarse, bristly hair, and not enough tail to
speak of, even in a whisper; in short, he has
no tail at all. His eyes are too small to match
his immensity, but his voice is like that of a
bull of Bashan.
But all these homely features have their uses.
His overhanging nose is as useful as a tapir's
snout in browsing on the twigs of the birch,
maple, and poplar, and his keenness of scent
is worth more to him than an accident insur-
ance policy. His long and powerful legs sim-
ply annihilate distance, no matter whether it be

about like a Colossus, feeding on lily-stems and
bulbs, and swimming with ease and comfort
whenever he thinks it necessary.
Thanks to the fact that the Moose is rather
solitary in his habits, quick-witted, and keen
of eye, ear, and nostril in detecting danger, he
is not destined to be exterminated so easily as the
more stupid bison, caribou, and elk. Rarely,
indeed, does the hunter find more than a family
of Moose together, even in the dead of winter,
when they "yard up" in a given locality for
days or weeks at a time.



By reason of his great size, his savory flesh,
his much-prized head, and the difficulty of kill-
ing him, this animal has always been very at-
tractive to sportsmen and naturalists, and pot-
hunters also. As a result, our leading scientific
museums now possess more and finer mounted
specimens of this species than of any other
large game animal of America except the bison.
The museums of Washington, New York, and
the University of Kansas possess magnificent
groups that are lasting monuments to the great-
ness of Alces Americanus, and a credit to our
country besides.
Four years ago, very suddenly and without
warning, I became the owner of a live Moose
calf, a month old. I bought it in the wood on
the north shore of Georgian Bay, and of all the
live animals I have ever owned, it was one of
the drollest. It was mostly legs, with just
enough body to couple them together at the
top, and although the absurd little creature
could not drink out of a pan placed on the
ground without first kneeling down, it walked
into the affections of the family as if it were a
thing of beauty.
Thanks to the labors of Mr. Madison Grant
in the preparation of the accompanying map
(reproduced from his CENTURY paper on "The
Vanishing Moose "), I am enabled to pass over
the subject of the home of this animal. It
must be stated, however, that it is nowhere
abundant, is at all times hard to find, is difficult
to kill when found, and that its final disappear-
ance from the whole of North America, save the
inaccessible regions of the far North, is only
a question of a few years. As the reader will
notice, the Moose is now found in the United
States only in northern Maine, northern Min-
nesota (where the Indians are fast exterminat-
ing it), and along the Rocky Mountains as far
south as the Yellowstone Park.
Strange to say, the Moose takes kindly to
confinement and civilized life, and will some-
times even allow itself to be harnessed and
driven like a horse.
As I have already indicated, this big animal
lives by browsing on the small twigs of trees,
instead of by eating grass.
The Moose may be the largest member of
the Deer Family, but our ELK, or WAPITI, is

ELK, OR WAPITI. certainly the handsomest,
and it also stands next to
(Cer'vus an-a-den'sis.) the first in size. Take
an eight-year-old male Elk in November, when
his sides and quarters are plumply rounded, the
long black hair on his neck like a grizzly's win-
ter overcoat, his nostrils distended, eyes flash-
ing, neck swelled with vigor, and his fine, new
antlers fairly spoiling for a fight-and then
match him if you can! It is then that he goes
about with a chip on his shoulder, feeling not
only willing, but eager, to whip all creation.
He is then at his finest. His coat is new and
bright, he is the finest deer that ever stepped-
and he knows it. If you have any old score to
settle with him, better postpone it until Febru-
ary or March, when his antlers fall off and leave
him meek and inoffensive.
It is by no means uncommon for captive Elk
to commit murder, and to become so dangerous
as to require summary execution. Not long
ago a keeper in the Philadelphia Zoblogical
Gardens was gored to death by one. .Of all
the difficult problems that perplex the superin-
tendent of a zoo, the worst is that of keeping
the Elk herd so that none of its weaker mem-
bers shall be murdered. As to their food sup-
ply, they are easily kept, for they will eat
almost anything that is fit for them; but be-
tween October i and February i, I would
rather keep a lion or tiger in my back yard
than a full-grown Elk in good condition.
In appearance the adult male Elk is magnifi-
cent. There is nothing about him that is "out
of drawing," as the artists say. His legs are
small and shapely; his form is beautifully
modeled; his head is far more finely modeled
than the heads of our smaller deer; his eye
is big and bright, his hair is luxuriant, and his
"color scheme" is pleasing. He is built for
strength, speed, and beauty combined, and he
looks it.
But his antlers! They are his crowning
glory. Even when you find a single one,
where it has been dropped on a bleak hillside
and lies all alone, you instinctively halt to admire
it, for you know that it came from a grand ani-
mal. But let the king of the Cervide himself
stand before you, with two big brown trees of
solid bone rising from his forehead, thrusting



two branches forward, then sweeping backward
and upward, branching grandly as they go, un-
til the topmost prongs rise in the air above, the
wearer's loins, and if you have within you one
spark of admiration for grand things in nature,
you will surely exclaim with me, "What a mag-
nificent animal! Put him in a grassy moun-
tain park, surrounded by his wives and children,
with a background of pine timber and snowy
peaks, and his majesty is undeniable.
The largest Elk of which I have an authen-
tic record was formerly owned by Mr. G. R.

thousand pounds, but the weight of a full-
grown cow Elk sometimes is as little as four
hundred pounds. Like the young of deer gen-
erally, the calf is spotted; but the spots are
large, and not so numerous as on the young
of smaller deer.
But for the fact that the Elk is as much at
home in pine forests and rugged mountains as
it formerly was on the prairies, the species
would now be as nearly extinct as our buffalo.
With but slight variations, the range of the Elk
was once almost identical with the original


McKenzie, of Sullivan County, New York, and
kept in his park until it had to be killed for
viciousness. It measured as follows: length
of head and body, 7 feet 8 inches; tail, 62
inches; height at the shoulders, 5 feet 4 inches.
I am glad to be able to add that its skin is
now in the possession of the American Museum
of Natural History, and will soon be mounted
by Mr. Rowley-which guarantees the quality
of the finished specimen. The weight of that
animal could scarcely have been less than one

habitat of the buffalo, the difference being that
it never inhabited Mexico or the great plains
north of the Saskatchewan basin, but it did in-
habit Arizona and California.
In more than nine tenths of this vast territory
it has been exterminated, and at present it is
found only at intervals along the Rocky Moun-
tains from the Laird River to Southern Colo-
rado, and in Northern California, Oregon, and
Washington. Its preservation in the Yellow-
stone Park has been an unqualified success, and






it is now estimated that
the wild West contains

Coming down to the members of the
Deer Family that are universally known
as Deer, we first meet a fine, lusty fellow
who inhabits the wild-
est portions of the
(Car-i-a'cus ma-cro'ls.) West. By the men
S who live in his country he is called the
JBLACK-TAILED DEER,- his pet name is
Billy Black-tail," but naturalists call
him the MULE-DEER, simply because he
has large ears.
In the Canadian Northwest, this crea-
ture is called the JUMPING DEER, and a
very appropriate name it is, too. I shall
never forget my unbounded astonishment
when I first saw a big antlered buck of
this species go flying down the crest of a
bare ridge in the bad-lands of the Mus-
selshell. He bounded past my position,
in full view for a quarter of a mile, and
I had an excellent view of him. He did
not gallop, as do all other deer, reaching
"far out with his fore feet, but he just
A MULE-DEER. jumped into the air, stiffened his legs,
that little remnant of and went bounding forward as if the ground
between 10,000 and were an India-rubber, cushion that threw him

I5,000 head of Elk,
with the number still
increasing. When Mr.
E. Hough made his fa-
mous snow-shoe trip for
the journal Forest and
Stream through the
Park, in the winter of
1893-94,to see where the
big game was wintering, 1.
he saw, in one day, about -:.
2000 Elk in the strip of
country that the boomers
of the proposed Cooke
City railway are stren- f
uously endeavoring to
have cut off from the
Park, and opened up
to settlement. To this
audacious proposition all
lovers of nature and of
our wild animals will -
reply emphatically," Not



upward and forward every time he touched it
with his feet. He did actually bend his knees
a trifle, just as his feet touched, to throw his
body upward again, while his strong hind legs
shot him forward. It was all so easy, and so
completely without effort, that he seemed to be
almost flying along, like William Tell's eagle,

By the sole act of his unlorded will
That buoyed him proudly up.

I have lost my record of the length of his
leap, but I think it was sixteen feet; and so I
say Jumping Deer" is a good name.
This handsome Deer is most abundant in the
broken ravines and bad-lands so common along

deep snows always force them down into
the more open country about the same time
that the December blizzards force the hunter
to collect his shivering and hungry horses, and
make a bee-line for the home ranch.
West of the Rocky Mountains, the Mule-
Deer is found or formerly was along the
whole Pacific slope, from Cape St. Lucas to
British Columbia, although in Northern Cali-
fornia it is almost replaced by the Columbian
Black-tailed Deer. Its summer coat is dull
yellow, but in winter it is dark gray, varied
with areas of black and white underneath the
body. The antlers are far handsomer than
those of the Virginia Deer. They are larger,
and better poised on the head; they spread


the creeks and rivers of the Rocky Mountain
region, and in the rugged foot-hills and valleys
of the mountains. Of late years it has largely
abandoned the bad-lands that are without tim-
ber, and sought more perfect security in the
timbered foot-hills. In winter, however, the

more widely, and have a pair of branching tines
on each antler. To my mind a really fine pair
of Black-tailed Deer antlers are more imposing
in appearance than a small pair of Elk antlers,
even though the latter have the greater length.
The Mule-Deer is noticeably larger than the



more common Virginia Deer, and is more
strongly built. The weight of the fully grown
buck ranges from 250 to 300 pounds, and in
rare instances may go as high as 325. The
carriage of the head is more erect, it is not
given to skulking, and while it is easier to kill
than the other species, it is also finer game
when killed. It is easy enough for pot-hunters
to shoot does and fawns, but when it comes to
bringing down a lordly buck in the prime of
life, in October or November, when he is feel-
ing first-rate it requires a man.
The commonest and the best known of all
our Cervidce is our old friend the VIRGINIA
DEER. It is the most persistent animal of its
kind, politely but firmly
resisting all attempts at
(Car-i-a'cus Vir-gin-i-an'us.)
complete extermination.
Wherever there are large tracts of forest, and
also in many places where there are not, it
ranges all the way from Southern Florida to
the Saskatchewan, and from New Brunswick to
Idaho and the Mexican border. In Florida
and Texas it is a small and insignificant crea-
ture in comparison with those found in the
Virginia mountains and farther north.
In the West and Northwest, this creature re-
joices in a fine assortment of popular names.
Here are a few of them, in the order of their
preference: White-tailed Deer, Fan-tailed Deer,
Flag-tailed Deer, Long-tailed Deer, Red Deer,
and Fallow Deer. The two last mentioned are
particularly objectionable, for they rightly be-
long to two well-known European species. It
is no wonder that so many men are determined
to name this creature from the appearance of
its tail, for that member is so long, so bushy, so
white underneath, and so very noticeable when
its owner is running from you, that the provo-
cation is very great.
This Deer is next in size to the species pre-
viously described, but to my mind it is not so
handsome. The antlers drop far forward in a
way that to my eye always suggests misplace-
ment; and in truth they are not well poised.

But there is an evident purpose in the position
of the beam of the antler. The tines rise from
it straight up, one behind the other, so that
when the buck gets angry and charges you,
you suddenly find ten big sharp spears of solid
bone diving straight at you, any one of which
is sufficient to stab you to death. Personally
I am more afraid of buck Deer than of all
other animals I ever handled in captivity added
together, for I have had several narrow escapes
from their antlers and hoofs, and have known
of a number of serious accidents, some of which
were fatal. Every now and then an individual
suddenly develops a desire to commit wanton
murder, and the bucks should be treated at
all times, save when their antlers are soft, as
dangerous animals.
The Virginia or White-tailed Deer is a lover
of thickets, and is a great skulker. In the wil-
low copses or low brush of Western river-bot-
toms, where the high-headed Mule-Deer would
betray himself in a moment, the White-tail
crouches along out of sight, carrying its head
low down, and generally gets safely away. In
the Eastern United States it is now most abun-
dant in the mountains of West Virginia, the
Adirondacks, and Northern Michigan. In the
latter State it existed until recent years in in-
credible numbers, but the market-hunters have
slaughtered them without mercy, and now
there is not one deer where formerly there were
ten. It was calculated and estimated by a
member of the Michigan State Sportsmen's As-
sociation that in one year (I think it was 1885)
upward of seventy thousand were slaughtered
in Northern Michigan, chiefly for the markets,
and to feed lumbermen.
of the Paci-
(Car-i-a'cus Col-um-bi-an'us.) smaller and
smaller and
darker counterpart of the Mule-Deer, there are
in Mexico and Central America two or three
smaller species of Deer which it is impossible to
mention here.

VOL. XXII.-119.



ON i~


JUDSON lived in Brooklyn, and his father and
mother, like a great many other people in
Brooklyn, were not very rich. In fact, at the
time I am speaking of, Mr. Strong, Judson's
father, had just lost in business nearly all
his money, and it was necessary for the family
to economize in every possible way. Mrs.
Strong went without a new bonnet that win-
ter, and Judson had to wear his old, worn-out
brown overcoat, though it had grown so small
that the sleeves seemed to reach down hardly
past his elbows, and all the buttons in front
had to be moved to the very edge. And when
Christmas-time came, and Judson began to
wonder what he was going to get, his father
tried to explain how, that year, Santa Claus,
like them, was very poor, and therefore, could
afford to give only the smallest kind of a
But poor Judson had already set his heart
on a printing-press a particular kind of print-
ing-press that inked itself. He had seen the
picture of it in the back of ST. NICHOLAS, and
he knew that, with a font of type and a can of
printer's ink, it cost five dollars. So his father's
talk made him very despondent. He tried his

best to give up longing for it, but alas, ST.
NICHOLAS somehow or other always seemed to
come open at that page, and it was impossible
for his eyes not to see the picture and get
fastened there.
Judson admitted to himself that the print-
ting-press was more than he had a right to
ask for, and he never spoke to his father again
about it. But in spite of all his efforts he
could n't help feeling gloomy and sad.
Christmas morning came at last, and when
Judson stepped into the room, there, on the
table, surrounded by little packages, stood the
printing-press, self-acting rollers and all, with
a can of ink, a font of type, and a hundred
This joyful Christmas morning has perhaps
no immediate connection with the little adven-
ture I have set out to tell. It shows, never-
theless, how much happiness a small amount
of money could procure for Judson in those
days. Indeed, even a five-cent piece seemed
like quite a sum to him then, and it was a
great thing for him when he could find a way
of earning one. That is why his press was
such a prize. After he got the knack of it,


and could print cards with the name exactly
straight and in the middle, he bravely offered
his services to the world as a regular card-
At first he was kept very busy. His father
and mother, and Maria the cook, and his uncle
Waldron all gave him orders before a week had
passed. But then he had to pay out fifteen
cents for a hundred new cards, and after the
family had all been supplied he found it much
more difficult to get customers. Each five
cents that he made, therefore, represented a
great deal of labor, and he was not likely to
go off and spend it for soda-water or candy, as
boys of his age sometimes do. No; Judson
saved up every cent he made. And when
Mabel Tompkins refused to have her cards
printed unless she could have her address in
smaller type, he had all the more reason to save
his money: he must have another font of type.
The price was one dollar.
It was nearly a month after Christmas that
the happy day arrived when the little business-
man, by hook and by crook, by card-printing,
tinfoil-collecting, errand-going, and what not,
had finally made up the requisite amount. This
fact he announced to his mother very joyously
before setting out for school, and at the same
time he told her he was going over to New
York that afternoon with Joe Prentiss to buy
the new font of type.
As soo) as school was out he and Joe left
their books at Joe's house, which was right on
their way to the Brooklyn Bridge, and started
off for the printer's store in New York. They
walked across the bridge, and had almost
reached their destination when they caught sight
of a crowd collected on one of the street covers.
The people seemed to be listening intently to
some one who was in the middle of the group,
and the two boys hurried up to see what was
going on.
A man with a mustache had a medium-sized
black bag which rested on a thin three-legged
stand. The bag was lying open, and in one
side of it were a number of little oblong pack-
ages wrapped in blue paper-packages that
looked as if they might contain little blocks of
chocolate or of candy. In the other side, of
which they could catch a glimpse when the flap

was lifted, were little cakes of soap-clean
and white like Castile soap and pieces of
blue wrapping-paper cut square. The man
was just taking oit one of these cakes of soap
and a piece of blue paper when Judson and
Joe caught sight of him and elbowed their
way into the crowd. But what surprised and
interested them especially was a number of
new, crisp two-dollar bills which the man held
folded lengthwise between the fingers of his
left hand.
When he had taken out the piece of soap
and the blue paper, he unfolded one of the
two-dollar bills and held it up for everybody to
see. At the same time he began to address
the crowd in a loud, hoarse voice somewhat as
"Here, gentlemen, is as good a greenback
as ever came from Uncle Sam's mint; and here
are lots more of them, gentlemen,"--shaking the
left hand with the bills in it,-" all as good as
gold. I take this cake of soap, gentlemen,-the
best soap to be found on this side of the water
or anywhere in the world,-and that 's what
I 'm here to tell you, gentlemen. I take the
cake of soap, and wrap the two-dollar bill
around it, as you now see me doing. There,
gentlemen, is the greenback tightly wrapped
around the cake of soap, as you can observe."
And there was no mistake about it, either.
Judson and Joe, who had now worked forward
into the front row, could both see the bill
plainly enough.
"And now, gentlemen," continued the man
-" now I take this piece of blue paper, and
wrap up the cake and the bank-note, thus.
Now watch me, gentlemen. I take two of
these cakes, here." He took two of the little
packages from the bag, and holding the pack-
age he had just made in one hand and the two
other packages between different fingers of the
other hand, he made a quick motion, and let all
three packages drop into the bag, saying as he
did so :
Now, gentlemen, let me tell you what I 'm
here for. This soap is a new invention -the
best soap made in the world; and I know if
you would only try it, you would never use any
other kind. So I want to get you to try it, and
that's the reason I 'm wrapping up two-dollar


bills in every package. All I want you to do
is to promise that you '11 try the soap when you
get home. Now, anybody that wants six pack-
ages can pick them out himself, if he '11 promise
to give the soap a good trial, and let me have
a dollar just to show he 's in earnest. Who '11
take six packages? Does anybody want six
packages ?"
I see exactly where that package is. Don't
you ? whispered Joe to Judson. Judson never
took his eye off the package he had been look-
ing at, and his heart beat violently. He could
feel the dollar bill he had in his pocket, hot as
a roasted potato. But that was no matter; he
waited to see if somebody else did n't have
sense enough to get two dollars for a dollar.
And it was so absolutely certain, he said to
himself, because any one could see where all
three of the packages had dropped, and the
right package must be one of them.
Still, as nobody came forward to buy, the
man with the black mustache went on with his
performance. He took out another cake of
soap and piece of blue paper, and wrapped an-
other crisp two-dollar bill into a blue package,
which he let drop into the bag along with two
others. In short, he repeated exactly what he
had done before, and waited again for some-
body to buy six packages. But each person
seemed hesitating for somebody else to buy the
first lot so as to make sure that everything was
"Well," called out the man, apparently dis-
gusted with such stupid people, if nobody '11
buy six packages, will some one just pick
them out for me. Don't be afraid. Pick out
six for me."
At this, a messenger-boy standing next to
Judson stepped forward and immediately picked
out two packages, which he handed to the
man. Then he hesitated a minute.
"They 're the very ones," whispered Joe to
Judson, excitedly. "I 've been looking right
at them all the time."
Two," bawled out the man with the black
mustache. "Now, four more any four, it
does n't matter."
The messenger-boy handed four more to the
man, who then held all six between his thumb
and finger for the crowd to see.

Now," he went on, before I open these,
won't anybody have them for a dollar? "
The dollar in Judson's pocket was strug-
gling to get out; but he restrained himself and
waited to see them opened.
"Well," said the man, "if nobody '11 take
them, will somebody unwrap them for me ?
You, my little man, will you open them? "
And, by chance, he put all six packages into
Judson's hands. Everybody pushed closer to
watch, and Judson could n't help trembling a
little as he started to open the first package.
He carefully unwrapped the blue paper, and
underneath it, sure enough, was a tightly rolled
two-dollar bill. Judson unfolded it, and found
it crisp and good. It would buy two fonts of type,
or a font of type and all sorts of gilt-edge cards,
printer's pins, and a new type-case. But, unfortu-
nately, Judson had not given his dollar to the
man; so he handed over the two-dollar bill
along with the cake of soap and the blue paper,
and started to unwrap the second package.
Bless your soul! another two-dollar bill, crisp,
and tightly wrapped as the first. And the next
package contained another, and the fourth,
fifth, and sixth packages each another -in all,
six crisp two-dollar bills.
The man held them out in his hand, and, only
a minute before, Judson could have bought
them all for one dollar!
Meanwhile, everybody in the crowd was
murmuring and marveling, and the man with
the black mustache went on talking.
"You see, gentlemen, I 'm not trying to de-
ceive you. The soap company I represent is
rich, and the money 's theirs, not mine. All
they want you to do is to give the soap a fair
trial, and they 're sure to get back their money
in no time. And now, gentlemen, I 'm going
to give you another chance before I move on.
I 'in going to wrap all these up again, as you
see me doing, and put them back into the bag."
And one by one he wrapped the bills in sepa-
rate packages, and dropped them into the bag,
just as he had done before.
Now," he cried, when he had finished,
"does anybody want to pick out six for a
dollar ?"
Judson's heart beat very fast, and he made
a motion to get out his dollar, at the same time




whispering to Joe, "I 'm going to buy them.
You 're almost sure to get one two-dollar bill
anyhow. Would n't you ?"
Hold on a minute!j' whispered Joe. "Don't
pay him yet, or maybe he '11 cheat you. Wait
and pick 'em out first."


Of course the man might be a cheat, and
Judson saw Joe was right; he would n't say
a word till the last minute, and he 'd keep hold
of his dollar up to the time he got the packages
in his hands.
Come," said the man, who wants to pick
out six ?" Judson did n't move; but he was
dreadfully nervous for fear somebody would buy
them ahead of him. But no; nobody came


i, 1



forward, and so Judson congratulated himself
that nobody else had a dollar.
Don't be afraid, gentlemen," continued the
man, appealingly. "Somebody pick me out
six, anyhow."
Before anybody had a chance to move, Judson
picked out three pack-
ages which he was ab-
solutely sure had bills
i ?s in them. Another boy
S picked out one, and a
S' man with a beard picked
S' out two; that made six.
That's right," whis-
pered Joe; "four of
them are dead sure.
Don't let anybody get
ahead of you."
A big lump was in
Judson's throat, almost
choking him. He had
the dollar bill ready
in his hand, and he
never took his eyes off
the six packages which
'the man was holding
up between his thumb
and finger.
Now, gentlemen,
here 's your last chance.
Before I open these,
won't somebody take
them for a dollar ?"
I will," sang out
Judson. He held up
the dollar bill in his
right hand, and reached
s forward with his left for
the packages. And be-
CANCE.'" fore the man had time
to speak, Judson had
clutched the packages tightly and given up
his dollar.
Good boy !" said Joe. "Hold 'em tight."
But there was no need of saying that. Jud-
son was gripping with all his might, and he
plunged his hand into his overcoat pocket to
make doubly sure. Then he and Joe pushed
back through the people, every one of whom
was looking at them. And at that moment Jud-


son felt like the Count of Monte Cristo when
he stood up on top of the rock, and shouted,
"The world is mine! "
Just as they were getting out of the crowd, a
man came up to them, and spoke in a whisper.
" Don't open them here," said he. That man's
got confederates, and they '11 take the money
away from you."
I won't," answered Judson, and the hand
in his pocket closed itself all the tighter, as
he and Joe hurried on as fast as they could.
"This is far enough -nobody's following
us," said Joe, after they had gone straight ahead
for about two blocks without saying a word.
"Let 's see how much you got."
So they stopped and opened the packages.
How much do you suppose that little rascal of
a boy had got for his one dollar ? Well, there
were six packages, and every one of them con-
tained a crisp new cake of soap, and nothing
Come back and find the man, and tell him
he 's a cheat! exclaimed Joe.
They hurried back to the corner where the
crowd had been; but not a soul was there -
not even the little three-legged stool the bag
had rested on.
Judson did n't cry, and he did n't find fault
with Joe for advising him to buy the soap. He

just looked at Joe for a moment, and then said
quietly, "Let's go home."

,_ T



And, do you know, after all the man had said
about the best soap in the world, Judson never
brought back a single cake. He left them lying
there in the street.


ONE day, in huckleberry-time, when little
Johnny Flails
And half a dozen other boys were starting
with their pails
To gather berries, Johnny's pa, in talking
with him, said
That he could tell him how to pick so he 'd
come out ahead.
"First find your bush," said Johnny's pa, "and
then stick to it till
You 've picked it clean. Let those go chasing
all about who will
In search of better bushes; but it 's picking
tells, my son -
To look at fifty bushes does n't count like
picking one."

And Johnny did as he was told; and, sure
enough, he found,
By sticking to his bush while all the others
chased around
In search of better picking, 't was as his father
For, while all the others looked, he worked,
and so came out ahead.
And Johnny recollected this when he became
a man;
And first of all he laid him out a well-de-
termined plan.
So, while the brilliant triflers failed with all
their brains and push,
Wise, steady-going Johnny won by sticking
to his bush."
Nixon Waterman.



BY M. M. D.

ONE twilight hour,- well, long ago,
Some Katydids -
Yes, Katydids -
Assembled in the linden row,
'Mid buzzing things of many kinds,
To ease their puzzled little minds.
Just Katydids ?
Yes, Katydids.

Then one most gravely raised his head,
And to his nimble comrades said:
"Now, brothers, in this peaceful spot,
We '11 see if Katy did or not.
Let us take up each point with zest,
Decide the case, then let it rest.
No frank opinion need be hid;
And, as for me, I think she did."

Crescendo argument ensued,
Though none would willingly be rude.
Each an opinion firm expressed,
In strong yet simple language dressed:

Katy did! "
Katy did n't! "
"Katy did !"
Katy did n't! "

The pros were pro; the cons were con;
So much one could rely upon.

We threw our summer casement wide;
Nothing we saw- (how well they hide!)
But softly through the listening night
Still came those arguments polite:

"Katy did "
"Katy did n't! "
"Katy did !"
"Katy did n't!"

We felt through all the tumult fine
That sounding order: Comrades mine!
Let each be heard. Speak freely, friends!
Debate, when honest, never ends.
No frank opinion need be hid;
And, as for me, I think she did."

The breeze grew high, and starlight grew;
Our lighted casement blinked, we knew;
And still we smiled, and let it in -
That softly shrill, persistent din;
That undertone: "Speak freely, friends !
Debate, when honest, never ends."

Ah was it so?
Not women? O-h!
Not men? Oh, no!
But Katydids--
Just Katydids!




THE most interesting thing
about the Exhibition held
last year at Antwerp was
SAntwerp itself. There
is nothing more quaint,
more picturesque, and
more delightful in all
S Belgium than this
old town. Not only
is it strange and
curious because
-- of its antiquity,
but because of its
streets and their scenes so novel to the Amer-
ican-the houses with their bulging gables, the
market-places in the open squares, the dog-
teams drawing the milk-carts filled with brass
milk-cans, such as artists love to put into their
pictures. And then there are the milkmaids
themselves, in their pretty costumes, with now
and then a peasant in wooden shoes clattering
up the street.
The school-boys, too, would delight you.
So far as legs go, they are clad as any Ameri-
can boys might be clad in knickerbockers or
long trousers; but around their shoulders they
wear dark-blue capes with hoods, and on their
heads such jolly caps! Rubens, the great
painter, lived in Antwerp. He died there two
hundred and fifty years ago; but the boys of
Antwerp know as much about him as you do
about Christopher Columbus or George Wash-
ington,-maybe more,-and they keep his
memory green by the caps they wear. These.
are of the same style as those worn by Rubens,
and for that reason they are much worn by
art-students generally; and, therefore, in towns
where Rubens is not so well known as he is
in Antwerp, they are described as "painters'
caps." They are much larger in circumference
than the tam-o'-shanter, and instead of being
knitted or crocheted they are made of dark-

blue or black cloth, and have a cunning little
pigtail on the top, not more than an inch in
length, and smaller around than a lead-pencil.
The boys wear these caps in all sorts of ways:
pulled down over the eyes to keep the sun
out, pulled entirely back from the forehead as
is the fashion of Neapolitan fishermen, or
worn rakishly on one side or the other, and
hanging well down to the shoulder. Not one
straw hat or one "Derby" did I see on the
head of an Antwerp school-boy. The effect
of these caps and the short cape was very pic-
turesque, and I felt as if I was looking at so
many little Rubenses when I saw them romp-
ing through the streets on their way to and
from school.
Not only has Antwerp many interesting fea-
tures in its every-day life, but it has some
beautiful mementos of the past. First of all
is the cathedral. The exterior cannot be seen
very well, because so many little houses and
shops snuggle up against its stately walls.
The cathedral stands first among Antwerp's
attractions, but I must confess that I was more
impressed by the Plantin Museum. This mon-
ument to the art of printing I will not attempt
to describe, since that has already been done
by Mr. Theodore L. De Vinne, in The Cenlury
Magazine, much better than I could do it. I do
not believe, however, that Mr. De Vinne was
more charmed than I was with this ideal old
printing-house, which, though built so many,
many years ago, is so well preserved and so
beautiful to-day. It seems, as you walk from
room to room, that Plantin himself must be
somewhere about the place. Everything is just
as he left it: the type in the cases, the "copy"
on the hooks, the proofs lying there for correc-
tion,--everything but the life that set all in
motion. You look out upon the grass-grown
court, upon the ivy-hung walls of the quad-
rangle, and you are not surprised that with


its many aisles, I found out the way to the
American, or United States, Building. There
was nothing about this building to make us
feel proud of our representation. It was big
and ugly, utterly devoid of any attempt at
beauty, and the exhibit within was as unin-
teresting as the architecture without. The


such exquisite sur-
roundings, away from
the noise and bustle of
the city, Plantin print-
ed beautiful books.
The grounds of the
Antwerp Exposition
were only a short dis-
tance from the hotel
at which we stayed; a
cab and a franc, and
we were there in less
than no time; another
franc, and we were
inside the gate.
Directly opposite the
entrance gate was the
main building--the
one corresponding to
the Manufactures and
Liberal Arts Building
in Chicago. But it is
fair to say that it was
very ugly because. it
was too gaily colored
and over-ornamented.
The white beauty of
the buildings at the
World's Fair in Chi-
cago has spoiled for
us the garish architec-
ture of most other ex-
positions. After walk-
VoL. XXII.-- 20.


Stars and Stripes waved from the roof; there
were some of Edison's inventions, and portraits
of Mr. Cleveland worked in yellow on a back-
ground of black fringed out along the edges.
The American Building did not detain me long.
I felt rather ashamed of it, to tell the truth.

that you forgot for the time that you were not
treading the streets of a real city. To keep up
the illusion, all the people in the shops and
restaurants wore the costumes of the time rep-
resented. As we were walking through one of
the principal streets of this old city,-a friend

/ Oy -

There was quite a good exhibition of pic-
tures; and here America was well represented
by two of Whistler's best, and some by Charles
Sprague Pearce, McKnight, Dannat, and others.
I felt better after seeing these paintings.
Of course there was a Midway Plaisance,"
and there I found the greatest attraction of the
whole Exposition. It was to the Belgian Exposi-
tion what Old Vienna was to our World's Fair;
but it was much finer.
Once inside its gates, I was in another world.
It was a city built, not of boards and canvas,
but of wood and staff" so cunningly wrought
that to convince myself it was not stone and
brick I rapped upon it with the handle of my
umbrella. The illustrations give you a very
good idea of the houses and buildings along
the streets of this Old Antwerp." They were
so large and apparently so substantially built

from America was with me,-we saw four men
and four women trudging along over the cob-
blestones in front of us. "Look look! said
I, and we gave chase.
"Are n't they perfect! exclaimed my friend.
" How did they ever get themselves up to look
so exactly like the real thing ?"
The four women were of about the same
size, which was enormous. Not one of them
weighed less than 250 pounds. They wore
short skirts and "hoops," and notwithstanding
their size they were padded out at the hips.
Their arms were bare, and so were their necks,
and they were sunburned to the color of a
boiled lobster. From their shoulders they wore
wings of the same material as their gowns; in
the V formed by the wings, and bordering their
great necks, were bits of gaily colored embroi-
dery. On their heads they wore white caps with




__ -_-. .- ~ ~ ..' ..
long flaps, and from under the caps, hanging of brass or gold, I don't know which. On the
down to their eyes, were little curls or spirals stout arm of each woman hung a basket. How
down to their eyes, were little curls or spirals stout arm of each woman hung a basket. How

_J -_ ... ._, .
SFrom the volume Old Antwerp." By permission of E. Lyon-Claesen, art publisher, 8 Rue Berckmans, Brussels.


I wished that I had a camera with me to take a
snap-shot at the picture But, after all, the pho-
tograph would have been very unsatisfactory,
as it would not have given the color of the cos-

... .. ..* '" ../s .
;a'_, / ,-

"- .. _,: .. ^ .i-:-_ "... ..^._^
From the volume Old Antwerp." By permission ofE. Lyon-Claesen, art pi
tumes nor the peculiar roll of the women as they
walked--a motion which was exaggerated by
the swaying of their crinoline. We asked if they
were a part of the show. To our surprise, we
were told that they were veritable Hollanders
of to-day, who had come across the border

in their holiday attire to see the Exposition.
I can never be too grateful to these women for
choosing their time so that I had a chance to
see them, for I shall not forget them.
Every detail of" Old
Antwerp was carried
South with the greatest
S.-' care. The iron and
S brass signs that hung
in front of the shops
were curious.and often
L; beautiful. And I
shall never understand
how it was done--
Smany of the houses
were covered with
vines, some of them
with roots as thick as
a man's arm. The in-
teriors of the drink-
ing-houses, or caba-
rets, would fill a lover
of old furniture with
S-. 'envy. As I have said,
Old Antwerp" was
the most satisfactory
part of the Antwerp
Exhibition, and it
made one feel strange
to come out of this
sixteenth-century city
into the glare of the
"Plaisance" with its
jabbering Zulus, its
persistent peddlers
from the Orient, its
chattering mounte-
banks, and its placards
announcing in plain
English certain Wild
Western performances
CED IN OLD ANTWERP." of Pawnee Bill."
publisher, 8 Rue Berckmans, Brussels. TO compare theAnt-
werp Exposition with the Great Fair at Chicago
would be as foolish as to compare the little
houses that huddle about the great cathedral
with the cathedral itself. Taken for what it
was, it was well worth seeing, and it had for an
American the attraction of foreignness."








: :

4 ''

~s /i


BESIDE the sea the children go
On white bare- feet through the silver sand,
And the little waves run, laughing, up
As if to catch them where they stand.
And they build them houses of rainbow shells;
They dig in the sand the deepest of wells.
But always and ever alack and a day! -
The waves wash houses and wells away.




THINK of a home made of air-bubbles floating
on the surface of the water, guarded by a fierce
father some hundreds of times larger than his
children, who, when they stray away, rushes
out and gobbles them up in his cavernous
mouth and hurls them back into their proper
places! It sounds like an old-fashioned tale of
water-sprites, but this time it is a true story.
In a cool corer of the great hatching-room
of the Central Station of the United States Fish
Commission at Washington, is an aquarium
containing eight or ten specimens of the Para-
dise fish, or, as it is known to science, Macro-
podus viridi-aurata. The name sounds consid-
erably larger than the fish looks, for the latter
never grows to be more than six inches long,

but it fits very well, nevertheless, for the reason
that, like all scientific names, it describes the
owner. The terms come from makros, a Greek
word meaning large; from pous, also Greek,
meaning a foot, or; in this case, a fin; and viridi-
aurata, Latin words meaning green and golden.
Several other colors would have to be named
to fully describe its beauties, for it is. a hand-
some fish. The male is especially brilliant, and
on the approach of his mate she looks very
plain and dingy by comparison.
But the Paradise fish, in addition to being or-
namental, has some very interesting ways. The
male builds the nest, which is quite right and
proper, but he builds it of bubbles Rather frail
building-material, you may think, and not apt


to endure very long. It does very well, how-
ever, for the bubbles forming in the slime which
surrounds the eggs are quite lasting, and by con-
stantly adding fresh ones the fish keeps the nest
in a fair state of repair. The young are nearly
transparent, and floating beneath the bubbles
they are quite invisible to their enemies above
the water. From the time the eggs are laid, until
the young fish are large enough to take care of
themselves, their father guards them against their
hundreds of enemies beneath the surface, among
which is their own mother. This unnatural pa-
rent would devour her offspring as greedily as
she would a wriggler, were it not for the vigi-
lance of her mate, who takes very good care
that she does not get an opportunity. Between
guarding his. children, which are numbered
somewhere in the hundreds, and keeping his
somewhat flimsy priest in repair, he is a very
much occupied fish. With a very business-like
air he flirts himself about, now rising to get a
mouthful of air to release in bubbles below his
nest to mend a break, now dashing after and
seizing one of his runaway children, or rushing,
with a degree of ferocity all out of proportion

to his size, upon some finny raider. But he is
utterly depraved himself, and if he gets the
chance he will kidnap half a dozen of his neigh-
bor's family to increase his own; so, when the
nests are close together, there is a perpetual
warfare going on between the proprietors. He
is very pugnacious, and there is no discretion
coupled with this quality, for he displays as
much readiness to attack and devour me, sketch-
ing outfit and all, if I approach too closely, as
he would a May-fly. But his disposition is not
half as bad as that of one of his cousins; for
there is a species of the same genus, called
Betta pugnax, which is cultivated in Siam for
its game and fighting qualities.
The Paradise fish has another distinguished
relative, called the Climbing Perch, which has
the power of moving about on dry land, and
can even climb for a short distance up the
inclined trunks of trees. But this is getting
to sound like a regular fish story, so I will say
no more about Macropodus viridi-auratus and
his curious relative. Every word is true,
though, however much they may sound like

-. '{,A~fr I. I..





IN her nest on the limb of an apple-tree a mother Robin sat,
When the father Robin came in haste to say, "I 've seen a cat!
A smallish cat-a kitten, in fact, that's coming toward our tree.
He seems to be bringing a basket. What can the reason be?"



"A kitten? she cried-"a crowd of them! For, see, there come some
And she was right, for very soon the Robins counted a score--
Carrying baskets, cans, a net -a wagon-load, at least,
Of things that smelled so very good they surely meant a feast.
Robins don't love cats, you know, and so they flew away,
For they saw 't was a Kittens' Picnic that had come to stay all day.

The Kittens chose that very spot to spread their cloth so white,
But set up the lawn-tennis net where the sun shone warm and bright.
'The youngsters then chased butterflies, or danced in a merry ring,
Or just beneath the Robins' nest enjoyed a lazy swing,
Until it was time to be hungry, when out came tiny dishes
With a toothsome pie, cool lemonade, sweet candy, jam, and fishes.

A little chap in a dottedshirt (a favorite, it would seem)
Was chosen by his comrades as the one to serve ice-cream.
He counted every, kitten, dividing the cream with care,
So not one kitten had too much, while each one had his share.
This pleased them all, and they declared he was "a little brick!"
And all agreed that he deserved the ice-cream spoon to lick.
How prettily he purred his thanks for this reward unsought,
How glad he was that he had done as a kindly kitten ought!

Now when the lunch was eaten the sun had sunk so low
That all the older kittens announced 't was time to go.
The youngsters whined a little, but knew they must obey,
And packing up their things again the kittens went away.

As soon as the last little furry tail was fairly out of sight
Back came the timid Robins to their nest to spend the night.
But, best of all, for many a day the happy Robins found
A feast for their nestlings in the crumbs of the Kittens' picnic-ground.
So many a present trouble, that seems but to annoy,
May bring you on a future day a pleasure to enjoy.




A wealthy miser is this. State,
As many a miner 's found;
He keeps his silver and his gold
Safe buried in the ground.

And here we find the grandest sight
That man has ever seen,
Where Colorado's rapids flow,
Deep in their vast ravine.

Along the western boundary
The waters southward go,
And join the Californian gulf
By way of Mexico.

The summer days are very long, I
The deserts hot and dry;
And there great cactus plants.abound
Full twenty-five feet high.



ctle 40
JfC.. ---~-Vt


A wealthy miser is this. State,
As many a miner 's found;
He keeps his silver and his gold
Safe buried in the ground.

And here we find the grandest sight
That man has ever seen,
Where Colorado's rapids flow,
Deep in their vast ravine.

Along the western boundary
The waters southward go,
And join the Californian gulf
By way of Mexico.

The summer days are very long, I
The deserts hot and dry;
And there great cactus plants.abound
Full twenty-five feet high.



ctle 40
JfC.. ---~-Vt


Here are the Apaches,
And there the Kiowas;
Here are bold Comanches, _
And there the Chickasaws.

Also Sacs and Foxes,
Creeks and Cherokees,
.'Seminoles and Choctaws,
And Pottawottomies.

This country was intended
For the Indians' very own,
And white men are expected
To leave these lands alone.

The part called Oklahoma
Is occupied by whites;
But first we gave the Indians
Protection in their rights.



CONTRIBUTORS are respectfully informed that between the ist of June and the 5sth of September nianuscripts 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.

THE verses Fair Play," by the Editor of this maga-
zine, printed on page 951 of this number, were written
for a bright little amateur paper entitled "Old Gold,"
issued in the winter of 1894 by Willie G. Morse of New
York City. The verses are republished in ST. NICHOLAS
by permission of the young editor of Old Gold."

A correspondent, J. M. B., asks whether this sentence
is perfectly correct:
Bicycling is a very healthy exercise."
The CENTURY DICTIONARY recognizes the use of
healthy in the sense of conducive to health, but says "in
this sense healthful is generally preferred."

MARJORY WALKER: "Jack Ballister's Fortunes" is
riot a true story.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Manchester is situated on the
banks of the Merrimac, where the river falls over the
rocks and is very swift.
Along the banks there are several large mills for the
manufacture of cotton goods. These are run by the water
power, but we also have several shoe factories that are
run by steam. The principal business street is Elm street,
named because of the elms that grew along the sides.
The city has several large commons. The most noted of
these is Stark Park. This is directly in front of General
John Stark's birthplace, and also on the banks of the
river. It is his chosen spot for burial. His grave is
marked by a simple granite obelisk. Other commons are
Derryfield, Tremont, Concord, Hanover, and Merrimac.
In the center of this last stands the Soldiers' Monument.
In the winter these commons are flooded for the benefit
of the children. In the northern part of the city, usually
referred to as the "North End," there are some fine
I have taken you, dear ST. NICHOLAS, for nine years,
and enjoy you very much. After reading you I send you
to another child.
Your devoted reader, B. J- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have a little Indian pony
named "Wahpetak," which means "wolf" in Indian.
There used to be a troop of Indian soldiers here, but it got
smaller and smaller, as the Indians took their discharge as
soon as they had served their time out, and went back to
their semi-civilized habits. One winter night we went to
an Indian dance held by some Indians camping near the
post. They had come to visit their friends the Indians
of" L" troop. The dance was held in the L-troop bar-
racks; everything was cleared out, and chairs and benches
were put around the wall for people to occupy. The
officers and ladies did not stay very long, but the soldiers
of other troops stayed until it was over, which was at about
two or three o'clock in the morning. Some Indians
sitting right across the room from us had a Japanese fan,
and they would put it up before their faces and talk be-
hind it, mimicking the white ladies they had seen. The
squaws don't dance, but just sit and look on with their

papooses on their laps, and probably wish they were men,
so that they might dance too.
We have a cat, but the poor thing leads a hard life with
my two little brothers.
Your interested reader,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I want to tell you a wonderful
story. One evening our doctor was in a drug store, and
he heard something moving the handle of the door. He
thought it was a little child. He opened the door and let
in a big bulldog, who looked up at him and then down
at his own bloody foreleg. The doctor understood, and
examined the leg, and found it had been badly bitten in
a fight. He washed and bandaged the wounds, and asked
the druggist to keep the dog for a few days, promising
to come in every day and attend to the leg. In a few days
the dog was well, and was gone nobody knew where. A
year after, the doctor came to our house and said he had
seen the dog again. The night before, in the same drug
store, the bulldog walked in, and looking up at the doc-
tor, showed an ear badly torn, and a badly scratched neck.
He had been in another fight and had come back to be
taken care of.
I hope you will put this in the Letter-Box, for it is all
true. I am eight years old, and my name is

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Dinard is a small town situated
at the mouth of the Rance, a little river that flows into
the English Channel. I am an American girl, and have
got six sisters, but no brothers, which is rather unfor-
tunate. Last year, I went with my father, mother, and
two sisters to the Mont St. Michel, so was very much in-
terested in your article termed "American Bicyclers at
Mont Saint Michel," in the August number. Three of
us went also some of the way on bicycles, and enjoyed it
greatly. On arriving, I was besieged by a crowd of
little boys who wished to take my bicycle, but I declined
their numerous offers, and clung to it myself. I will not
need to describe that wonderful place, as that has already
been done much better than I could ever do it. It is really
marvelous to see the tide come sweeping in, covering up
the vast waste of sand so quickly that it almost makes
one feel as if in a nightmare. We stayed one night,
coming home the following day.
I remain your constant reader, M. C. F-.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: As I enjoy so much the let-
ters you publish, I thought that I would write one. I
have taken your magazine for over a year and like it very
much. I was born in Switzerland, but came to America
in 1889. I am now twelve years old, and I am in the
sixth grade at school. I have not seen many letters from
Switzerland, but I will tell you what it is like. Although
a small country,it is a beautiful one. La Chaux-de-Fonds
is my native place. It is a town of about thirty thousand
inhabitants,most of whom are watchmakers. The French
language is spoken there. I went through Bienne and
Bern, and the latter has beautiful scenery. The Alps are
seen very plainly from there. I have lived in Lausanne,
which is situated on Lake Geneva. It is a summer


and winter resort, and English is spoken there as well as
in any town in the United States. The Alps are the
highest mountains and are very beautiful. From the
Matterhorn you may see all the other peaks. It was a
long time before any one made the ascent of this mountain,
but at last it was made by Mr. Edward Whymper in the
year 1865. The peasants once thought that goblins lived
at the summit.
Your constant reader, ESTHER V-

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I want to tell you about my
tame scale quail, or Mexican partridge, named "Dick,"
the first one of its kind known to be in captivity. He is
called a scale quail because his neck and breast are cov-
ered with feathers that look like scales. The Smithsonian
Institution wants a picture of him standing on my hand.
Dick will eat anything that he can get, and he has a
little call which sounds something like coo, a little like
kettle, but not quite like either of them. One day we got
him a box of earth, and the dear little fellow enjoyed it,
oh, so much! He lay down in it and tried to roll. Dick
will not bathe in water, but oils his feathers from a little
oil bag that grows under his wings. He has such a
pretty little tuft of feathers on his head, which looks some-
times like one, and sometimes like two tufts. Dick has
a mate in Camden, buit he does not seem to miss her,
though he does not like to be left alone. He has seemed
very happy since he has been with us, and we all hope
that he will stay so.
Truly yours, MARGARETTA B. A- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I live in Buffalo, N. Y., but
am now traveling with my mother down South. Yes-
terday I went through the Capitol and heard some very
funny echoes. There was a man showing us around, and
he took us into a large room and told me to stand on a
certain stone; then he went off about fifty feet, and whis-
pered something quite low, and I could hear the echo
right beside me very plainly ; then he told us to go up
to one side of the room and turn our faces to the wall,
then he went to the other side of the room, about one
hundred feet away, and we could hear just what he said
in a whisper.
Your loving reader, -FRANCES A. W--..

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little boy five years old,
and I have begged my mama to write you a letter for me.
I went hunting on the prairie this evening, with my
papa and brother, to kill plover. My brother is ten years
old and can shoot well, and he kills birds with a rifle.
I have a sombrero that came from Mexico, and it has
silver bands all around it.
Mama reads us all the stories in ST. NICHOLAS. I
like Chris and the Wonderful Lamp," but my brother
Frank likes "A Boy of the First Empire."
Your friend, MAX E- JR.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: A few days ago I went to a
service in St. Peter's, where they sang a Te Deum."
The altar in the church was all lighted with candles,
which made it very bright. At the top of the altar there
was a glass-window with a dove in the middle of it, and
when the sun was out it made it very pretty. .Yesterday
papa took my brother and sister and me to the dome
of St. Peter's; but the view was not very good, as the day
was not very clear. My sister and I were the only ones
who went into the ball on top of the dome. To climb to

the ball there is a steep little iron ladder which is hard to
go up and down, because it is all in the dark, and when
you are up there you can hear a very loud noise like
thunder. The day before yesterday I went with papa
to the Vatican Museum, where there were a great many
marbles from tombs, and statues.
From your loving reader, HENRY L. W -

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: There was a letter from a little
Hungarian boy in your last number; he is fond of shoot-
ing, as I am, and I liked to hear about him. Papa let
me have a gun when I was seven-I am nine now. I
load my own cartridges and cases often, while papa reads
to me in the evening. I have shot three wild goats, but
it is not easy to get near them; they roam about the
rocks and hillsides in the ranges here, but sometimes
they come into the paddock where we keep our horses,
and then I may get a shot. I have shot ten hares,and a
great many rabbits, and a number of parrots, and other
birds. I have a few sheep of my own, and papa allows
me to have as pocket money the value of their wool. I
bought myself a rifle, but had to wait a long time while it
was sent for, for it came all the way from New York.
Now that I have it, I like shooting with it better than
with my other gun. I ride my sister's pony "Nulty"
when I go out sometimes with papa, mustering sheep.
This is a sheep station. In the creeks close by here there
are numbers of crayfish; it is easy to catch them with a
piece of string and a bait. We have a boat at Currency
Creek, and I like going in it; but I hope to go with papa
on a shooting expedition up the Murray river and lakes
soon. I will write and tell you about it if I go.
I am collecting stamps, and if the little Hungarian boy
would like to exchange, I would send him some of our
Australian, and perhaps he would send me some of the
stamps of his country. I will try to collect some beetles
and butterflies for hiii too. My sisters, who love horses
very much, were so pleased to hear of the little ponies.
I like the stories in ST. NICHOLAS, and mama often
reads them to me. Sometimes, when we are taking a
long drive, and cannot go fast in the hills, mama reads
me a story out of ST. NICHOLAS; then I don't feel tired.
Your interested little friend,
HUGH W. D. W--

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I don't think I have seen any
letters from Alaska in your letter-box. I and my bro-
ther Harry used to take you when we were quite small,
and papa used to read the stories to us. We liked
"Juan and Juanita" very much, and we often speak of
them now. I used to have a dog named "Amigo."
We have lived in Alaska nearly all our lives, so we are
quite little Eskimos. The place we lived at before was
called St. Michael's. It is much farther north than Wood
There in the winter the salt water freezes four and five
feet thick for miles and miles out to sea.
One winter my brother Harry and I made a snow
house; we dug it out of a high snow drift. One day,
while we were inside it, it caved in right on top of us.
We were very much frightened, and we had quite a hard
time to get out.
Once a man brought three little black bear cubs down
from the Yukon River on a river steamer. He gave
them to papa. Papa had to have a platform built on
poles, and a house made on top of it for them, because the
Eskimo dogs are so savage that they kill anything that



is not one of themselves. During the night some of the
dogs broke loose from their chains and went after the
bears. The bears must have tried to climb down the poles
and hung themselves, for they were tied, and the dogs
then killed them.
My brother had a tame raven which he called "Jim."
Of course, nearly every tame ciow or raven has to be
named Jim.
We had two little tame squirrels from the woods on
the banks of the Yukon River. We called them "Punch"
and "Judy." They were so tame that they would go right
inside papa's coat pockets to hunt for nuts and crackers,
which they would always find; then they would run
away and eat them. Your loving reader,
MARY M. G--.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little boy eight years
I have been very sick with a fever for five weeks, and
as I am always on the sofa, I love to have you come, so that
I can amuse myself with Chris and the Wonderful
Lamp," and "The Boy of the First Empire." I am also
interested in "Teddy and Carrots."
There are a number of interesting things in this city
for strangers to see; among them the new capitol. It
is not yet finished. The staircase is said to be the finest
in the world.
In the State Library are the papers found in Major
Andre's boots.
There are also relics of Washington and other generals.
The old Schuyler mansion is very interesting. It is
now an orphan asylum. On the stairs are marks where
the Indians struck with their tomahawks.
The Van Rensselaer mansion is the handsomest of all.
It belonged to Stephen Van Rensselaer. The house is
still standing, but the grounds have been sold for busi-
ness purposes, and are now spoiled.
In Forbes's Manor, Greenbush, there is a beautiful mar-
ble staircase. I remain sincerely yours,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: My papa gave me a dog the,
other day. The man he bought him from had taught the
dog some tricks, but we did not know that until we had
had him several days, when he surprised us all by taking
his tail in his mouth and waltzing around, as Sanch" did
in Miss Alcott's book Under the Lilacs."
I went East, to the sea-shore, last summer, and I
learned how to swim a little; my mama taught me
how. When I was just learning, I was nearly drowned,
but my cousin saved me. I was afraid to go into the
water for a long time after that.
Your loving friend, DAISY F- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl twelve years
old, and I have been reading your magazine ever since I
could read, and I enjoy it very much.
There are six children of us two boys and four girls.
I am the fourth. My papa is proprietor of the River-
side Pony Farm, and has a herd of sixty ponies, all of
them Shetland.
My sister, ten years old, has a little pony named
"Babe," and I a spotted one named "Joy." We drive
them everywhere, to a pony-trap which will hold four.
We often get our little friends and drive to the country
and have picnics. BEATRICE S-- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: My sister and myself were
thirteen years old yesterday. We live on a ranch in

the western part of Wyoming, near Yellowstone National
Park, and have both been through it three times; it is
wonderful. This is our first trip to New York city.
We are spending a week in New Rochelle with cousins,
but return to the West in a.few days, and shall be very
glad to get back to our ponies and other pets. We have
five hundred chickens, forty rabbits, and many others.
We ride ten or fifteen miles every day before breakfast.
There are no good schools near there, so mother has to
teach us. We are on the lookout for you once a month,
and when we hear father say, I have something for my
little girls," we run as hard as we can to see who can
get you first, although we read you together.
We like "The Boy of the First'Empire," the best
story so far.
Wishing you along life, from your little friends,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I thought you would like to
hear about a very interesting fight I saw the other day
from my window, between an English setter and a black-
bird. The bird was apparently trying to get a few hairs
from the dog's tail, because, as the dog was walking
down the street, a blackbird flew out of a tree and dived
down alongside the dog's tail uttering queer little cries in
doing so. It did this over and over again, sometimes
hitting the dog on the tail and making him jump. At
last, he was rewarded by a beakful of long hair and
away he flew to his nest, only to return in a few moments
and commence his little trick over again.
I have taken you ever since I can remember, and enjoy
reading you very much.
I remain your loving reader, ELISE G---.

MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We have taken the ST.
NICHOLAS only a short time, but we are very fond of it
already, especially of the Letter-box," and we thought
you would be interested to hear about the large fire that
occurred here.
It began early in the morning and lasted till late in
the afternoon. School was dismissed on account of the
smoke, and soon after the building burned. Besides the
school-house, two churches, several stores, and about
fifty houses were burned. Soon after the old school-
house was replaced by a much better one.
Long life to the ST. NICHOLAS!
Your loving friends,

WE thank the young friends whose names follow for
pleasant letters received from them: Trumbull Warren,
Albert T. Coffin, Edith P. S., M. F., Anna P. C., Ele-
anor Gladys Sawyer, Florence Dunham, Mary M.
Worthington, Old Maid," Abbie C. and Dorothea A.
M., Louis, Ruth H., Alice C. B., Jos. B. Townsend 3d,
Davenport Hooker, Hally M.

Printed in "Through the Scissors," ST. NICHOLAS,
for August.
I. Boston. 2. New Haven. 3. Connecticut. 4. New
York. 5. Brooklyn. 6. Philadelphia. 7. Cleveland.
8. Washington. 9. Detroit. 10. Chicago. I. Balti-
more. 12. Atlanta. 13. New Orleans. 14. Nashville.
I- San Francisco. 16. Limerick. 17. St. Petersburg.
IS. Cairo. 19. London. 20. Athens. 21. Edinburgh.
22. Venice. 23. Florence. 24. Milan. 25. United


IiIUl IUHmlmatxr


CENTRAL SYNCOPATIONS. Sonnet. I. Ha-s-te. 2. Sh-o-ut.
3. Li-N-en. 4. Bo-N-ny. 5. Dr-E-am. 6. Mi-T-re.
WORD-SQUARE. I. Leans. 2. Endow. 3. Adore. 4. Norse.
5. Sweet.
RHOMBOID. Across: i. Amain. 2. Ardor. 3. Meter. 4. Sedan.
5. Datum. 6. Nenia.
DOUBLE ACROSTIC. Primals, Josephine; finals, Cleopatra.
Cross-words: Judaic. 2. Ordeal. 3. Sample. 4. Embryo.
5. Philip. 6. Hegira. 7. Insult. 8. Number. 9. Europa.
NUMERICAL ENIGMA. "Happiness grows at our own firesides,
and is not to be picked in strangers' gardens."
RIDDLE. Castor-- caster.
ILLUSTRATED FINAL ACROSTIC. Shelley. i. Books. 2. CoacH.
3. FlamE. 4. GaveL. 5. NeweL. 6. EaglE. 7. Money.

A CONCEALED MENAGERIE. I. Lemming. 2. Baboon. 3.
Jackal. 4. Sable. 5. Stoat. 6. Yak. 7. Peccary. 8. Llama.
9- Sloth. so. Ibex. Ir. Ox. i2. Ape. 13. Gnu. I4. Ass. 15.
Leopard. 16. Ai. 17. Camel. S8. Wapiti. 9x. Otter. 2o. Mon-
key. 2. Hindd.22. Buffalo. 23. Porcupine. 24. Chamois. 25.
Armadillo. 26. Gorilla. 27. Ounce. 28. Goat. 29. Elk. 30.
Lion. 3x. Zebra. 32. Zebu. 3. Bear 34. Tiger. 35. Ermine.
36. Cat 37. Eland. 38. Wolf. 39. Bison. 4o. Badger. 41.
Tapir. 4. Hyena. 43. Antelope. 44. Ant-eater. 45. Rabbit
46. Rat. 47. Hare. 48. Moose. 49. Orang-outang. 50o. Agouti.
51. Dog.
CHARADE. Lowell.
3. Mast. 4. Etta. MIDDLE SQUARE: 1. Stud. 2. Tape. 3.
Upon. 4. Deny. LOWER SQUARE: I. Once. 2. Nyas. 3.
Carp. 4. Espy.

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 JUNE NUMBER were received, before June 15th, from "Tod and Yam"-M. McG.-
Josephine Sherwood-Arthur Gride-"Jimmy" and "Polly"-L. O. E.-Helen C. McCleary-Mary Lester and Harry-Jessie
Chapman and John Fletcher- "Jersey Quartette"-G. B. Dyer- Clive- S. L. B.-Marjory Gane- Mabel, Marorie and Henri-
George Bancroft Fernald Paul Rowley-- Paul Reese- Helen Rogers -" Four Weeks of Kane "- Effie K. Talboys- G. B. D. and
M.- Hubert L. Bingay Kenyon N.- Trenton Trio "- J. T. S. and W. L. S. Blanche and Fred "Brownie Band "- Isabel H.
Noble- Clara A. Anthony-Franklyn Farnsworth-"Two Little Brothers"- Robert S. Clement-Hilda L. Feason-Sigoumey Fay
Nininger Jo and I.
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE JUNE NUMBER were received, before June x5th, from Bessie G., i- Elsie C. Prindle, -
"Bright People," I- "Jack and Jill," r-I. Malcolm B., 3 -Francis B. Sayre, I-Albert Smith Faught, 7--Jack Moore, I -Sally
B. Perry, I Helen Koerper, 2- "We Two and One," 3 Mary Louise Ely, x Elizabeth Chamberlin, I Florence S., 3 Eugene
T. Walker, I- E. H. A. Club," I- Harriet, Edward and Mama, 6- "She and I," 7- Marie L. Abbott, George H. Seymour,
7-Adelaide M. Gaither, I-Mama and Karl, 7-"The Butterflies," 8-"Duck," 8-Marguerite Sturdy, 7-V. B. and A. H.
Jacobs, 8-" Merry and Co.," 6-Grace Busenbark, i-Harlan, Bessie and Lucy, 4-Charles Travis, 7-David R. Pratt, 2d, 8-
Bob Bright, 5- Laura M. Zinser, 7.


I. IN tablet. 2. A disorderly crowd. 3. To be in a
state of grief or sadness. 4. A bunch of flowers. 5.
The utmost violence of an onset. 6. Anything wrought
or woven in meshes. 7. In tablet. BESSIE TAYLOR.


II 12

0o i'

.9 8

,2 3

6 4

6 5

FROM 2 to I, requires; from 3 to 2, a measure of
weight; from 3 to 4, to judge of at random; from 4 to I,
flies aloft; from 5 to 4, arranges in a methodical manner;
from 5 to 6, an Oriental begging monk; from 6 to I, tears

asunder; from 7 to 6, to silence by a retort; from 7 to 8,
dreads; from 8 to I, heavenly bodies; from 9 to 8, cer-
tain precious stones; from 9 to so, a musical drama;
from o1 to I, a collection of maps in a volume; from II
to Io, an agreeable odor; from II to 12, to change in some
respect; from 12 to I, small streams; from 12 to 13, to
relate; from 13 to 2, to mature.


MAKE the following changes by prefixing and suffixing
the same letter. Examples: Change a sound to rocks.
Answer, s-tone-s. Change a feminine name to a title.
Answer, m-ada-m.
I. Change a preposition to a twist.
2. Change a nobleman to annually.
3. Change equal value to parts of a ship.
4. Change airy to neglects.
5. Change a minute opening to seed-like bodies.
6. Change an old word meaning to know, to turn.
7. Change a span of horses to vapors.
8. Change a point of the compass to frothy.
9. Change tardy to writing-tablets.
o1. Change a pinion to sways. ALICE I. H.


AcRoss: I. Any cause of ruin. 2. A volume. 3. The
face of a watch. 4. Neat. 5. Close at hand. 6. To
DOWNWARD: I. In abaft. 2. A preposition. 3. To
bend the head. 4. To send forth. 5. To acquire justly.
6. Willingly. 7. To deface. 8. The name of a musical
note. 9. In abaft. "SAMUEL SYDNEY."


I. I. A CLUB. 2. To utter unadvisedly. 3. A
soothsayer. 4. Accurately. 5. To attempt.
II. I. A snare. 2. A feminine name. 3. To blot
out. 4. Elegant. 5. An exclamation of joy.


EACH of the six small pictures may be described by
a single word. When these- words have been rightly
guessed and placed one below another, in the order in
which they are numbered, the initial letters will spell
the name of an American author.
ONE word may be used to fill all of the following
The of the mountain is'capped with snow,
And grandfather's is white, you know;
The -- of his cane is small and bright,
And his s of wheat are a pretty sight.
The of an army came one day,
With soldiers uniformed, bright and gay,
Who drove ten of cattle away
And broke the of a barrel of ale;
(It battered the of many a nail),
Then sat around the table with ease,
Eating cabbage -s and good -- cheese.
I AM composed of seventy-two letters, and form a
quotation from Thackeray's works.
My 21-7o-56 is a useful insect. My 48-8-61 is an
adversary. My 43-54-65 is to peruse. My 49-17-4 is

accomplished. My 31-64-68-14 is crime. My 15-42-
39-7 is "The Land of the White Elephant." My
1-67-58-28 is the animal whose antics suggested the
word "caprice." My 19-33-23-72 was a famous city
of ancient times. My 5-3-16-63-12 is white or gray
with age. My 26-35-45-53-25 is excessively corpulent.
My 37-47-60-30-40 is one who scatters seed. My 38-
9-51-24-18 is general direction. My 71-2-57-46-69-59
is the ringing of a bell for the purpose of alarm. My
27-50-20-66-41-34 is having power to congeal water.
My 29-6-10-13-44-36 is thinking lowly of one's self.
My 62-32-55-22-11-52 was a Trojan prince, the son of


bubble. 3. A connection. 4. Large quadrupeds.
pasteboard. 2. Absent. 3. To contend. 4. One who
III. CENTRAL SQUARE. I. Fine gravel. 2. At a
great distance. 3. To entitle. 4. Pulled along.
To view with side-glances. 3. A feminine name. 4.
ing bird. 2. Ready for harvesting. 3. An heroicpoem.
4. Part of the body.

ii** **
5 6*
3 4

FROM I to 2, a fish; from I to 3, cooked in an oven;
from 2 to 4, to correspond; from 3 to 4, a trench; from
5 to 6, bare; from 5 to 7, the title of the native sover-
eigns of Hyderabad, in India; from 6 to 8, fixed the time
of; from 7 to 8, impelled; from I to 5, to invoke evil
upon; from 2 to 6, irate; from 4 to 8, a coal scuttle; from
3 to 7, indistinct. SIGOURNEY FAY N.
ALL of the words described contain the same number
of letters: When rightly guessed and placed one below
another, the central letters will spell an emblem of good
CROSS-WORDS; I. An inferior kind of black tea. 2.
Singly. 3. Vehicles. 4. A hollow dish. 5. A small
stream of water. 6. To sew loosely. 7. An insect that
infests plants. 8. Impedes. 9. To shade insensibly into
each other, as colors.



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