Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Danny and the "major"
 Merry Christmas
 Hop Wing and the missing treas...
 Mirros of air
 Master skylark
 Cousin Anita's surprise
 A boy I knew
 June's garden
 The jay
 Historic dwarfs Bertholde
 St. Paul's rocks
 A norse lullaby
 A tender-hearted monster
 The true story of Marco Polo
 Santa Claus street in Jingleto...
 The last three soldiers
 The Japanese "good-day"
 Misplaced confidence
 St. Nicholas day in Holland
 Report upon the prize puzzle "fifty...
 The letter-box
 The riddle box
 Back Matter
 Back Cover

Title: St. Nicholas
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00320
 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: VID00320
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: oclc - 01764817
lccn - 04012675
 Related Items
Preceded by: Our young folks
Preceded by: Children's hour (Philadelphia, Penn.)
Preceded by: Little corporal
Preceded by: Schoolday magazine
Preceded by: Wide awake

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front Matter
        Page 178
    Danny and the "major"
        Page 179
        Page 180
        Page 181
        Page 182
        Page 183
        Page 184
        Page 185
        Page 186
        Page 187
        Page 188
        Page 189
        Page 190
        Page 191
        Page 192
    Merry Christmas
        Page 193
    Hop Wing and the missing treasure
        Page 194
        Page 195
        Page 196
        Page 197
        Page 198
        Page 199
    Mirros of air
        Page 200
        Page 201
    Master skylark
        Page 202
        Page 203
        Page 204
        Page 205
        Page 206
        Page 207
        Page 208
        Page 209
        Page 210
        Page 211
        Page 212
        Page 213
        Page 214
    Cousin Anita's surprise
        Page 215
    A boy I knew
        Page 216
        Page 217
        Page 218
        Page 219
        Page 220
        Page 221
    June's garden
        Page 222
        Page 223
        Page 224
        Page 225
        Page 226
    The jay
        Page 227
    Historic dwarfs Bertholde
        Page 228
        Page 229
        Page 230
        Page 231
    St. Paul's rocks
        Page 232
    A norse lullaby
        Page 233
        Page 234
        Page 235
    A tender-hearted monster
        Page 236
        Page 237
        Page 238
        Page 239
        Page 240
        Page 241
    The true story of Marco Polo
        Page 242
        Page 243
        Page 244
    Santa Claus street in Jingletown
        Page 245
    The last three soldiers
        Page 246
        Page 247
        Page 248
        Page 249
        Page 250
        Page 251
    The Japanese "good-day"
        Page 252
    Misplaced confidence
        Page 252
    St. Nicholas day in Holland
        Page 253
        Page 254
        Page 255
        Page 256
    Report upon the prize puzzle "fifty charades"
        Page 257
        Page 258
        Page 259
        Page 260
    The letter-box
        Page 261
        Page 262
    The riddle box
        Page 263
        Page 264
    Back Matter
        Page 266
    Back Cover
        Page 267
        Page 268
        Page 269
Full Text

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JANUARY, 1897.



"PAPA! Papa!" The shrill, childish voice
echoed sharply through the quiet house, and a
small figure appeared upon the threshold of the
door which led to Captain Kent's office, as if
suddenly blown there by the March gale which
at the same moment invaded the apartment.
My son," said the officer in a tone of mild
exasperation, laying a restraining hand upon
his fluttering papers, will you be kind enough
first of all to shut the front door? And now" -
when he had been obeyed with an energy which
shook the house to its foundations take off
your hat, like a gentleman."
The'child snatched it off, and advanced to lay
an appealing hand upon his father's arm.
Don't make me wait for anything more,
papa," he pleaded. "It is important! It is, in-
deed. Mackenzie begs you to come to the cor-
ral right away. The 'Major' has come back!"
"The Major! What Major?"
"Why, our Major-Captain Egerton's Major."
"Impossible! "
"But he has indeed, papa! exclaimed the
eager boy. The herders found him up in
a ravine, and he followed the horses home,
and he is so lame he can hardly walk, and
the corral-master says he has enough worthless
brutes about now, so he is going to shoot him;

and Mackenzie said to tell you to come at once,
because if you did n't it might be too late-"
Two great tears overflowed from the violet
eyes and rolled down the lad's cheeks, but little
Dan had small reason to fear lack of attention
now! Almost before his hasty explanation was
completed, the cavalryman had thrown his cape
about his shoulders and started for the corral
at a pace satisfying even to his impatient son.

,To make you understand what he found there,
and what it meant, I must go back to the begin-
ning and tell about Danny; and then because
this story is quite as much, and perhaps a little
more, the Major's- about the Major too.
Danny could not remember his introduction
to the frontier garrison which constituted his
world, but he was never tired of hearing about
it. And during the long winter evenings, when
"retreat" had sounded and the soldiers had
dispersed to their log barracks, the captain
would seat himself beside the big stove, with his
pipe between his teeth; and Danny, his sled
put away, his gaiters and mittens hung up to
dry by the hall fire, and his buffalo overcoat -
an exact imitation of his father's big one safe
on its peg, would crawl into his father's arms
and nestle close to his heart. And after a silence

Copyright, 1896, by THE CENTURY Co. All rights reserved.

No. 3.


of greater or less length, the officer would be-
gin and go over the details so well known to
them both: of his astonishment when, on
coming from stables" one bitter winter after-
noon, he had stamped the snow from his shoes
and thrown aside his overcoat, to behold a
stout woman with a white bundle in her arms,
saying, Will ye look at the recruit I 've brought
ye, Captain?"-and of how, when he had re-
covered from his surprise, he had examined her
offering and found beneath a lot of wrappings
two tiny hands, a small face with blinking eyes,
and plentiful black hair. This last never failed
to impress Danny, for by the time he was old
enough to notice things his hair was as yellow
as the Indian maize which ripened by the river.
The years had sped swiftly after that winter
evening; and if, as his father said, he had come
into the world to the sound of a trumpet, he
grew up to the rattle of drums and the patter
of musketry in the days when Custer lived and
a soldier's work was full of activity and danger.
His ears became accustomed to the thrumming
of the "long roll "; his odd hours were full of
the excitement caused by the bustle of incoming
and outgoing scouting-parties, and, at times, of
watching, with far more interest than fear, those
tiny specks he could just discern skirting the
horizon, which he was told were hostiless."
It was small wonder that in such an atmo-
sphere he should develop rapidly, that he
should become healthy, as a child must who
spends ten hours of the twenty-four with the
winds of the prairie filling his strong young
lungs; that he should become honest and truth-
telling as a soldier's son should be; gentle to
the weaker sex, as represented by his mother
and the tiny sister who bore her name; and
full of an affectionate kindliness which won
him the most loyal devotion from the rough
troopers who shared his outdoor life.
At the time our story opens he was seven -
a tall lad, whose muscles were already like fine
steel threads, whose skin had tanned to a beau-
tiful golden brown, with violet eyes, and hair
which fell in tangles about his shoulders.
Those curls, heavy and girlish, had been a
constant source of woe to the boy, till one
never-to-be-forgotten day, when he had stood
at the gate of the stockade to see the famous

"Seventh sweep by, on its way to some dis-
tant trouble. The scene had been one to re-
member--the smooth action of the seasoned
horses, the careless swing of their riders, to
whom excitement had become as the air they
breathed! But of it all little Dan retained one
impression only -that of the adored Custer at
the column's head, his face thin, eager, reso-
lute, and with curls, as yellow as Danny's own,
falling over his shoulders !
From that hour the boy's ringlets became his
most cherished possession-a connecting-link
between the idolized leader of those toughened
Indian-fighters and his small personality.
And now for the Major! With regard to
him I confess my courage fails; for what wo-
man's feeble pen can hope to do justice to the
splendid piece of horse-flesh which answered
to that name?
Two years before the March afternoon on
which our story opens, an additional troop had
been ordered to Fort B- to reinforce the
hard-worked garrison. The officer in com-
mand was an old friend of Captain Kent; and
on the day of its arrival, shortly before sunset,
Danny started off to inspect the new horses and
make the acquaintance of their riders.
His intention was not carried out.
As he reached the path which led to the spot
where the detachment had gone into camp for
the night, he met a trooper leading a horse by
the bridle, and carrying a blanket and halter
over the other arm. The man's campaign dress
proclaimed him a new-comer. He was tall
and thin, and covered with dust from his' recent
ride. But neither the dust, nor the ragged stub-
ble upon his unshaven face, could conceal the
kindliness of his expression. Danny stepped
aside to let him pass.
"Good evening, Corporal," he said politely,
after a brief glance at the soldier's chevrons.
The trooper halted. Gude evening' t' yir-
sel', laddie," he answered in a voice whose deep
tones instantly made their way to the boy's
friendly heart. I 'm after a bed for the Ma-
jor; can ye show me the way tae the corral ? "
Dan regarded him gravely. "I '11 show you
the way to the corral with pleasure," he replied;
"but you must be mistaken about a major.
Papa said Captain Egerton was in command of


1897.] DANNY AND THE "MAJOR." 181

this troop, and he is going to stay with us; so His companion regarded him with approval.
he has a bed." "Now thet 's richt!" he said. "There ain't
For a minute the soldier looked puzzled, then many little chaps 't w'u'd think o' the horse
he laughed, when they hed a chance tae ride. I like ye
Hoot, laddie !" he exclaimed good-na- for it, lad! As for tirin' him I w'u'dna ride
turedly; "it 's no for anny two-legged major him mesel', but ye 're no gret weight, an' I 'm
I 'm working It's for this vera beastie ye see thinking' it '11 get him his supper the quicker."
at t' back, mon! And it's a bad
day he 's hed of it, and hungry
an' tired he is; so stir yirsel' an'
lead the way, for I heve n't a
knowledge o' these parts as yet."
Dan examined the animal criti- .
call. He seems to be a fine
horse," he remarked in the judi-
cial tone he had heard from the
The soldier smiled. "Ay," he
answered briefly; "he is."
"Has he come far to-day ?"
The neighborhood o' seventy
miles, aboot."
The man resumed his progress
in the direction of the stables,
and the little boy trotted by his
side, every energy absorbed in
the endeavor to keep up with his
long strides. After an interval
the child observed: I don't see
why you did n't put him on the
picket-line with the other horses.
Was n't there room for him ? "
Room for him?" repeated
the trooper, disgustedly; ay,
there 'd be room and tae spare
gin he wanted it, which he '11 no
do while he has old John tae .:
find him shelter. Ye 're a bit i',. riI- -r-.
blowed, ain't ye, laddie?" he
added kindly; for the first time
noticing the child's breathless
condition. I'm forgettin' t' dif- A moment later the
ference in the length o' t' laigs. radiant child was seated
We'll get over the groun' feyster astride the great bronze
gin I make the Major carry ye." "'GOOD EVENING, CORPORAL,' DANNY beast, and the trio pursued
Danny looked doubtfully at its way to the corral in a
the horse's dusty. sides and drooping head. silence which the soldier was too weary -and
"Is n't he too tired?" he asked, divided Danny too happy -to break.
between his desire for the offered ride and When Dan went home after seeing Mac-
compassion for the evidently weary animal. kenzie feed and groom his charge, he was con-


scious of having found a new interest in life,
and of having made a new friend; and his sat-
isfaction was complete when, on recounting his
experiences at the dinner-table that evening,
he was informed that the horse -belonged to


Captain Egerton, and that henceforth he might
see him as often as he liked.
The summer days which followed were full
of joy. Dan passed them for the most part in
Mackenzie's company, and a very real friend-
ship sprang up between the veteran and his
small companion-a friendship that found a
cementing bond in their affection for the Major.
Nothing so perfect of its kind as that splendid
animal had ever before come in the boy's way.
Had he been asked, it might have been dif-
ficult for him to tell which of his new friends--
the human or the equine -he loved the better.
But there was no question which was the more
important. He trotted at Mackenzie's heels
when he took his charge to and from the wa-

tering-trough; he perched himself on the cross-
bar of the Major's box-stall to superintend his
toilet; and he spent long hours scrubbing away
with a bit of rag upon the brass mountings of
the horse's saddle and bridle, on those days
when the trooper was obliged to
prepare for inspection -betaking
himself afterward to the drill-ground
to revel in the result of his labors.
And had you seen the beautiful
beast as he appeared at inspec-
tion,-the brass trimmings upon
which so much loving care had
been expended flashing in the sun-
light, his bronze coat like finest
satin, his powerful limbs motionless,
and with only the fire in the deep
eyes and the quiver of the wide
nostrils to tell how strong was the
sense of duty which controlled his
impatience for the command which
should put in motion the troop he
led,- you would not have wondered
at Danny's enthusiasm-an enthu-
siasm which gradually increased into
a great and real love, which it was
easy to see the Major reciprocated
in his dumb fashion.
So the weeks passed, and the long
hot days grew short, and winter
came and went- and with the re-
turn of summer little Dan experi-
BOX-STALL, enced his first sorrow.
Captain Egerton's troop was or-
dered out on a difficult and dangerous scout;
there was a battle,- a thing only too common
in those wild days,- and at the end of it the
gallant captain lay crippled by a gunshot wound,
and Major, swept away by the savages, had
vanished as if swallowed by the treacherous
quicksands which lined the river-bank.
For days after the first shock of his grief was
over, the child continued to hope for the horse's
return. For days he mounted to the highest
point of the block-house to search the furthest
reaches of the empty prairie, confident that if
the sagacious animal was alive he would find his
way back. But months passed, and another
winter dragged itself away, and little by little
the boy abandoned hope, and settled down to


the sorrowful conviction that the horse, too, had
fallen a victim to the Indians.

And now he had returned! And what a home-
coming !
Mackenzie and he had often talked of such
a possibility Mackenzie, who, with his be-
loved horse gone, and his master in the East on
leave, had been even more disconsolate than
Danny; together, the pair had pictured it in
divers ways. Sometimes it was one of them
who was to find him, sometimes the other;
but in every case they had thought of it as a
sort of triumphal progress, the coming of a hero
who returned to claim his own. Never like
this pitiful, starved, unknown, and despised,
in the very place where he had been so easily
supreme! "Oh!" thought Danny, "if only the
old troop had been here! Some one who loved
him! Some one to remember besides Mackenzie
and me!" There was a great sob in his throat

scene which met their gaze was so remarkable
that even the officer paused in breathless
Prostrate on the earth, covered with dirt, his
surly face purple, his feet kicking aimlessly in
the air, lay the corral-master- a government
rifle, which had evidently slipped from his grasp,
on the ground beside him. And upon his chest,
holding him in a grip of iron, his face white with
an anger too deep for words, sat the Scotch
corporal! At the left-a rusty and apparently
lifeless mass-lay the Major's prostrate form.
And about the group stood the employees of
the stockyard.
The sounds which issued from the corral-
master's throat made Danny think of the bellow-
ing of those bulls which were sometimes confined
in that part of the iifclosure; he crept to his
father's side and laid hold of his cape. The
overseer's face was rapidly assuming a still deeper
tint, and the captain went forward:

J- ?A


as he ran by his father's side in the direction of "You are choking that man, Mackenzie," he
the corral he was half afraid of what he might said sharply; let him up at once!"
find by the time that he reached it. The corporal glanced up at him with an ex-
And when the two finally did reach it, the pression of relief, gave his victim a final squeeze

I= --




which set him fairly gasping, and rose. Chokin'
'u'd be tae gude for him, Capt'in," he said, as
the corral-master struggled to his feet.
"What is the meaning of this performance ?"
inquired the officer. The trooper made no re-
ply, and O'Reilly, emboldened, began a halting
"Wait till you are spoken to," commanded
Captain Kent, sternly. He knew that Mac-
kenzie was upon ordinary occasions the mild-
est and least aggressive of men.
The group about them began insensibly to
melt away, excepting a few whose curiosity
was sufficient to overcome their prudence.
Mackenzie pointed from the gun to the
Major, with a gesture more eloquent than words.
He tried tae steal a march on me, Capt'in,"
he said huskily. I telt him tae wait till the
laddie fetched ye, and I went for water for
the puir beast; and when I coom back -
weel, if shooting' hadna been altegither tae gude
for him, he w'u'dna be here noo Thet 's ae! "
"What have you to say to this, O'Reilly ?"
"Sure I thought it would be a mercy to the
poor beast to put him out of his misery," an-
swered the man, in an injured tone. I tried
to do it unbeknownst to the corporal, known'
how fond of him he used to be and it 's
small thanks I got for me pains! Next time
I '11 leave him to settle his affairs himself. Look
at the brute, Captain," he added; "it 's only a
fool that would care to prolong his suffering. "
He was evidently sincere, and there seemed to
be some truth in what he said.
I 'm afraid he is right, Mackenzie," said
the officer, sadly, as he followed the two men to
the side of the panting animal.
Mackenzie broke down. "Ah !- don't ye
turn against him, too, Capt'in," he faltered.
"Think o' the time he 's had getting' here, and
gi'e him a chance. He sha'n't trouble no one,
and I'11 work it square. If he don't show some
sort o' improvement by this time to-morrow, I
gi'e ye ma word I '11 make na trouble. It 's
starved he is, and winded; but he 's nae deid
yet, and while there 's life there 's hope "
The captain turned away--the horse was a
painful spectacle. "Very well," he said; you
may have your way for the present; but I think
your labor will be wasted. I agree with

O'Reilly: the most merciful thing would be
to end his suffering at once."
Mackenzie moved to his side. I '11 no for-
get what ye 've done for me this day," he said
gratefully. "There's ane more thing ye can
do, if ye will, tae complete the gude wark. It
is against orders to sell us whusky at the can-
teen, and whusky is what the puir beastie wants
just noo. Would ye mind givin' me an order
for a gallon o' the same ? "
Captain Kent hesitated. I can trust you
perfectly, Mackenzie," he said (the corporal
was invariably steady); but a gallon of whisky
might cause a lot of mischief."
"It '11 no," was the earnest response. "It '11
be doon the Major's throat before it hes time
tae make any trouble."
The corporal's tone was a sufficient guaran-
tee of the safety of the venture. The officer
tore off the corner of an envelope, and scribbled
the necessary order.
I shall hold you responsible," he said.
Mackenzie nodded. "Yes, sir--thank ye,
sir," he murmured, saluting hastily, as he started
from the inclosure upon a run; and by the
time Captain Kent had once more regained
the garrison, he was on his way back to the
corral from the trader's where the necessary
liquor was kept.
No especial arguments were needed by Mac-
kenzie to enlist the sympathies of his comrades
in behalf of his fallen favorite: soldiers, as a
rule, are warm-hearted men, and in the cavalry
their calling fosters a love for horses. When
little Dan went home at sunset, kindly hands
had laid the old horse in the one box-stall
the troop-stable afforded, and liberal doses of
whisky and water had stayed his failing
strength. Through the long night the trooper
tended him faithfully, watching his heaving sides
by the light of a solitary lantern, and plying him,
as occasion demanded, with additional draughts

of the stimulant; and when morning came the
change for the better was so pronounced that
even O'Reilly was forced into the admission
that hope was once more possible.
After the first few days the animal gained
steadily. At the end of a month he was able to
hobble out with the herd, the shadow of his old
self. More than that he seemed likely never to

1897.] DANNY AND THE "MAJOR. 185

become. His hoofs were cracked and torn patiently in front of Captain Kent's quarters.
from his long wandering over the alkali plains, The loving care of the past few months had
his breath came rumblingly from his deep chest, been amply rewarded. Some time before he
and his eyes had a look of patient submission had been pronounced fit for light work, and
in their soft depths, which seemed to say that that afternoon Dan was to have his first ride
he understood fully the kindness which had upon the Major's back.
been shown him, and would repay it to the best Mackenzie had been for several weeks suf-
of his ability. The old ambition, the old fire, fering from a sprained wrist which prevented
were things of the past. He was quite content his doing the usual guard-duty, and in order to
now to browse along in rear of the herd, or to give him some occupation he had been detailed
stand for hours beside little Dan perched to superintend the herding of the quartermas-
upon a wood-pile, nudging him for the sugar ter's horses -going with them to the grazing-
which was always forthcoming, nipping lov- ground in the morning, and then returning to
ingly at the buttons on his small trousers, or the post until the afternoon, when he went out
immovable as a statue bowing his beautiful to assist in bringing them home.
head when the boy frolicked at his feet. And On the present occasion, as a special favor
though, as time went on and the summer drills and to celebrate the Major's recovery, Mac-
began, he would prick up his ears at the sound kenzie begged that Dan might go with him.
of the well-remembered calls, and follow the And when the child came out and prepared
battalion with his eyes as it swept by the spot to mount, it would be hard to say which was
where he was picketed, it was
only with a passing interest, and
he would return to his grazing in
placid content.
Danny never abandoned the
hope of seeing him in his old
place at the head of a troop. He
spent hours feeding, grooming,
and watering him, and when
there was nothing else to be done
he was quite content to perch be-
side him in the sunshine, and dream
of the wonderful things he should
do when he was once more well.
If he had admired him before, he
adored him now; and still the
wildest flight of his imagination
was not sufficient to suggest the
heroic feat which this dumb friend
was actually to accomplish for his
sake, the great and final proof of
his affection for the child who
loved him, and which was to make
too, famous !
To tell you about it, we must pass over the the happier, he or the trooper who swung him
weeks which witnessed the horse's gradual re- so proudly to his place.
cover to the scorching afternoon that found "You are sure it is safe, Mackenzie ? said
him, almost his old self, saddled with Dan's Mrs. Kent, a little anxiously, as from the porch
own small saddle, and pawing the ground im- she watched the start for the grazing-ground.


"Sure, ma'am," answered the soldier, em-
phatically, as he made a final examination of
the girths, little dreaming how much was to
depend upon his care in the course of that
eventful afternoon; "the beastie knows him as
well as ye do yirsel'. It 's no for naething the
lad has spent his time. He '11 no hurt him! "
He gathered up the reins and put them into
Danny's hands as he spoke, swung himself upon
his own bony gray, and they started.
In those days the summer months were al-
ways full of uneasiness and dread: the Indians
were especially restless at that time of year, and
precautions were doubled; but the weeks which
had gone had sped swiftly and quietly in little
Dan's home. Rumors of approaching trouble
had reached it from time to time; occasional
false alarms had sounded, and hurried scouts
had been made--only to prove the absence
of any foe; and gradually the command had
settled down to the conviction that for once
they were to be left in peace.
On the afternoon in question nothing could
have seemed more tranquil than the scene
which unfolded itself before Mackenzie and his
charge when, having passed through the gate
of the stockade, they turned their horses' heads
in the direction of the herd, which they could
just discern in the distance as so many specks
against the sky.
On the right the Missouri River wound like
a great yellow snake from the far northern
horizon; on every other side lay the rolling
prairie, with only that thread of green along
the river-bottom to break its level expanse.
Dan had heard of the grandeur of the sea, but
he sometimes wondered if anything could seem
more imposing than those wide reaches of tree-
less, turf-covered plain.
The animals were restless and uneasy in
spite of the heat, and after a short interval
Mackenzie turned from the trail" and started
across the open country.
Dinna ye go tae fast, lad," he said as the
Major stretched his neck with an evident in-
clination to outstrip his companion. "There 's
gopher-holes in plenty hereaboots, and gin ye
strike one o' them our ride 's up! Ye sit yir
horse like a sodger," he added admiringly;
"I '11 hef ye made assistant herder yet! "

Danny smiled broadly at the joke, sitting very
square in his saddle, in perfect enjoyment of his
new accomplishment.
After a canter of some twenty minutes the
corporal reined in his horse.
I can't think what 's happened tae O'Far-
rell tae let the beasties get sae far away," he
muttered discontentedly. "There 's nae grass
to speak of over there. I told him aboot it
this morning Look out, lad! "- for the Major
had thrown up his head suddenly and come to
a standstill, snorting, and nearly unseating his
small rider.
"Why did he do that ? asked the, boy in
wonder, as he settled himself once more in the
saddle, and got a fresh hold on the reins.
"There was n't any hole there, was there ? "
For a minute the corporal made no reply.
His own horse was snuffing the air uneasily,
and the trooper's keen glance traveled slowly
along the horizon and over the herded cattle
before it came back to the small figure at his
Maybe there 's grass burnin'," he said,
finally. The smell o' thet always makes 'em
He put his animal to a gallop as he spoke,
and the distance to the herd began to diminish
See how uneasy the other horses are," said
Danny, as they neared the grazing-ground.
"Whatever the trouble is, they know it too."
There could be no doubt of that fact. O'Far-
rell's apparent carelessness was explained. The
animals were in almost constant motion, mov-
ing from side to side, browsing for a moment,
only to pause and snuff the air in the same
alarmed fashion which Danny and Mackenzie
had noticed in their own horses a few minutes
before. The men in charge were riding to and
fro, heading off the refractory leaders, and do-
ing their best to turn them toward the post,
but without avail. Slowly but surely the herd
was edging in the opposite direction along the
O'Farrell came to meet them. He was a
young Irish lad who had been in the service
only a short time, and gave promise of making
a most excellent soldier. On the present occa-
sion his round, jolly face wore a troubled look.


"It 's welcome ye are, Corporal, sure!" he
exclaimed, mopping his hot face. If I 'd
had any way of getting' word to ye, ye 'd have
been here long ago; but it took the two of us
to kape the bastes together, and, faith, ten
men could n't have done more. I can't think
what 's got into them!"
He turned his horse and reined it in beside
Mackenzie's gray, surveying the increasing rest-
lessness of the animals in despair, yet conscious
of inexpressible relief at the presence of a more
experienced pair of shoulders on which to shift
the responsibility.
How long hef they been like this ?" asked
the corporal, after a silence in which his face
became more and more grave.
For the better part of the afternoon."
Mackenzie's eyes wandered once again over
the empty hills. "Ye 've got a good nose,
Larry," he said finally; "hef ye smelt anything
in the way o' a prairie fire ? "
The other shook his head. Nothin'," he
replied; "that is, nothing' to spake of. There
was some smoke up there to the north this fore-
noon; but I have n't seen it since."
The corporal's face changed suddenly.
"Steady, was it?" he queried, "or puffy,
like ?"
"A bit puffy. Nothin' to spake of- it died
out right away."
The veteran groaned. "And ye should hef
made for hame gin ye saw thet first puff!" he
muttered, adding something under his breath
about the silliness o' sending babes and inno-
cents tae do this kind o' work! "
"What 's up?" asked the young soldier,
anxiously. "You don't think it 's ?"
The elder man made an imperceptible ges-
ture toward the child.
There 's mischief of some sort brewin'," he
said gravely. "And we 'd better get out o' this,
gin we want tae carry a whole skin with us.
Head off those mules -they '11 stampede the
lot! Laddie, coom with me! He turned his
horse in the direction of the river as he spoke,
taking out his revolver and carefully examining
it while he rode.
Mackenzie," said the little boy, softly, draw-
ing nearer to his friend's side, do you think it
is Indians ? He was not particularly alarmed

at the unexpected danger which threatened
them he had the greatest faith in the corporal's
ability to protect him from harm. But the face
which the soldier turned slowly toward him in
answer to his question was grim and set with a
fear such as he had never known nor could
know--for himself! He would have given his
life gladly, in the face of that deadly and too
well understood peril, to have felt that little
Dan was within the friendly shelter of the fort!
"I 'm no sayin' it 's Indians, lad," he said
at length; but when ye don't like the look o'
things it 's better tae be prepared for the worst.
There's twa possibilities ahead o' us. One's the
stampede o' the herd,which would be bad enough;
the other's that which is behind the fright o' the
animals, which is far worse! Whatever happens,
naething I can do will save ye, gin ye don't act
like yir feyther's son and try tae help yirsel'."
He paused. While speaking he had worked
his way steadily across the front of the herd,
driving back such animals as he could without
waste of time, but continually increasing the
distance between himself and the main body of
the drove. His duty as a soldier was simply
to save his captain's child! By the time he
had reached a point to the left of the center
of the herd, experience told him that the dis-
aster which he dreaded was not long to be
He took the last moment for a few final
warning words.
"Mind one thing, laddie! Whatever comes,
gie the Major his head and hold on! He '11
carry ye safe, and he can show a clean pair o'
heels tae the fastest o' them! Eh! I thought
as much! Get yir horse's head round, lad!
Be ready!"
The avalanche was upon them!
Some seconds earlier the lead-mules of an
ambulance-team on the farther side of the graz-
ing-ground had thrown up their heads in sudden
fright and caromed into the horses feeding near
them, and those in turn had plunged against
their neighbors, and then the whole herd, catch-
ing the infection of their terror, had bunched
itself and started a maddened, flying mass!
It seemed years to Dan, giddy and breathless
from terror, before it reached him. For a brief
instant he thought he saw O'Farrell and some


unknown mounted figures behind it; then the
air about him grew thick with dust, the noise
of the beating hoofs increased to a deafening
roar, and every faculty became absorbed in the
effort to obey Mackenzie's instructions and to
keep him in sight; for the corporal's gray, nerv-
ous and fidgety at best, had no sooner caught
sight of the oncoming body than it bolted,
speeding along the edge of the bluff, uncon-
trollable and unguidable, to plunge after a few
seconds into a sandy ravine which ran up into
the plain from the river-bottom -disappearing
before the lad's straining gaze as completely as
if swallowed by the friendly earth!

aside the bushes, and stared, transfixed, at the
spectacle before him.
Above his head, a broad swath of broken
branches and uprooted reeds showed where
horse and rider had crashed through the bushes
to their fate. At his feet, a huddled, shape-
less mass, was the runaway! And beyond lay
the corporal, his blouse torn to ribbons and
gray with dust, his upturned face drawn and
still a red stream trickling slowly down from
a gaping wound in his forehead, to form an
ever-growing stain in the sand beside him!
Little by little Dan crept to the trooper's
side and gazed with wide eyes into the quiet

1 '

IN .... P AT .T W.... HA A


A minute or two later the Major, following
almost in the footprints of his stable-mate,
paused on the brink of the little gully, and then
carefully, and without harm to his clinging bur-
den, slid and floundered down its shelving sides,
and stopped, quivering, at the bottom.
There was something disconcerting in the
change from the recent rush and turmoil of the
upper world to the gloom and stillness of
the leafy covert. Danny caught his breath and
peered half timidly through the underbrush.
" Mackenzie," he called softly; "oh, Macken-
zie!" And then with a sudden low, horrified
cry he slipped from the Major's back, thrust

face. Some vaguely formed protest against the
injustice of fate crept through the child-mind.
The peril from which he had just escaped-
the possible peril even now lurking in the woods
about him was as nothing compared with
this terrible stillness and helplessness of his
Danny began to cry, not loudly, but with
deep-drawn, shivering breaths, while the Major,
with hanging, loosened reins, sniffed protest-
ingly at the motionless body of his late com-
rade. There was a silence, broken only by the
chirping of the sparrows in the thicket and the
rustle of the leaves overhead.


Suddenly Dan looked up, and drew his sleeve
across his eyes.
A deep sigh had escaped from the blue lips,
and with a frown of pain Mackenzie stirred un-
easily and turned his face toward the boy.
Dan's first wild thrill of joy vanished at the
sight of the blood which welled up afresh from
the wound with the movement. Instinct told
him that the flickering life could not long sus-
tain such a loss.
The winter before he had been present while
the hospital steward bound up a wound for one
of the soldiers, and the attention with which
he had followed the operation did him good
service now.
He took out his handkerchief and measured
its small length against the trooper's forehead.
Then he looked about him for a more effectual
bandage, and his eye fell upon the narrow
leather cinch at his waist, a recent and much-
prized gift from the Mexican saddler in his
father's troop. It was the work of only a few
seconds to unfasten it, and to make a pad of
the bit of linen, after which, with much diffi-
culty, he adjusted the strap about the corporal's
head, and pulled it tight. And terrified as the
child was, and tender and feeble and fluttering
as his small fingers were, they did their work
thoroughly, and the fatal tide at first slowly
ebbed, and at length ceased.
When the task was accomplished, Danny
looked about him helplessly. "What shall we
do now, Major?" he said, addressing himself
to his only companion.
The corporal stirred. "And ye '11 keep his
head straight, lad," he murmured feebly, his
half-conscious mind taking up the counsel to
his charge where it had been interrupted by
the stampede; "and ye '11 steer him for hame
-for hame he repeated once again in stronger
The child bent over him. "Am I to go for
help, Mackenzie ? he said eagerly. Do you
mean I am to go for help ? "
He waited a moment in expectant silence;
but the trooper had drifted off into unconscious-
ness, and there was no reply. Then he rose
to his feet. There seemed nothing left but to
obey. "Come, Major," he said tremulously.
He made his way slowly to the horse's side,

climbed up on the stump of a fallen oak, and
from that to the animal's back, and with one
wistful backward glance at the grimly quiet ob-
jects at his feet bent his head over the Major's
neck and wound both hands in his mane, while
the sagacious beast clambered up the side of
the ravine, to emerge a minute later upon the
open prairie.
Away to the north a cloud of dust marked
the recent passage of the herd. On every other
side swept the tableland, empty and placid
and smiling. And beyond, to the south, stood
the fort and home. Danny took heart, settled
himself in the saddle, and put the Major into a
smart canter, holding the reins firmly, and try-
ing to recall the corporal's instructions while he
rode, thinking with an ever-recurring pang of
his friend's condition, happy that the distance
to the necessary succor was diminishing so rap-
idly, and totally forgetful of the anxiety which
had agitated the veteran before the accident
that had separated them.
Suddenly, at the end of some fifteen minutes
of tranquil riding, as the Major galloped along
the edge of the timber which fringed the bluff,
there was a loud crackling and crashing in the
bushes, and a gaily decorated war-pony scram-
bled through them, his rider grunting in surly
surprise; while at the same moment, from the
thicket beyond, three other half-naked mounted
figures appeared and lined up in the path
which led to safety.
The child's heart stopped beating. His fron-
tier training told him that all that had gone be-
fore, even the tragedy which had darkened the
afternoon, was as nothing compared with this
new and awful danger. In a paroxysm of ter-
ror he tried to stop Major -tried with all his
small strength to turn him aside toward the open
plain, to check his mad plunge into the very
arms of the enemy. But for the first time the
horse paid attention neither to the beloved voice
nor to the tiny hands pulling so. desperately
upon the reins.
Whether it was the sight of an old and hated
foe, or whether the wise, kind heart of the ani-
mal realized the full extent of a peril of which
the child was as yet only half aware, it would
be hard to say. But little Dan found himself
going faster than he had thought possible-


and faster--and faster -till the tawny, sun-
burned plain, and the pitiless smiling sky, and
the nearer, greener foliage of the willows, and
even the outlines of the dreaded savages them-
selves became as so many parts of a great rush-
ing, whirling whole, and all his strength was
absorbed in the effort to retain his seat upon
the bounding horse.
And so, like some vision from their own
weird legends, straight down upon the aston-
ished Indians swept the great bronze beast
with its golden-haired burden! Down upon
them, and through them, and away- till by
the time they had recovered from their amaze-
ment there was a good fifty yards between
them and their flying prey! And that dis-
tance, hard as they might ride, was not easily
to be overcome!
After that first wild rush the Major settled
into a steadier pace- a smooth, even run, so
easy to sit that the lad relaxed his clutch upon
the animal's mane and turned his eyes to the
horizon, where gathering swarms of savages
showed like clusters of ants against the slope
of the hillside. In his track, with shrill, singing
cries, like hounds upon a trail, came his pur-
suers. And far to the south there was a puff
of white smoke from the walls of the fort, and a
moment later the first heavy, echoing boom of
the alarm-gun thundered across the plains!

Within the stockaded inclosure the sunny
hours wore tranquilly away. Mrs. Kent's pass-
ing uneasiness about the Major subsided, and
she returned placidly to her domestic duties.
Late in the afternoon, when the baby had
been bathed and freshly dressed and the nurse
had taken her to play in the shade of the band-
stand, Mrs. Kent came out to join her husband
and a group of ladies and gentlemen on the
"There must be a prairie fire somewhere,"
she remarked as she seated herself; "I have
been smelling smoke all -the afternoon."
"We were just talking about it," answered
Mrs. Lane, the doctor's wife; "I am certain
I saw smoke to the northward before luncheon.
There is no sign of it now, but the odor is
distinct "
At that moment one of the younger lieuten-

ants approached from the gate which led to-
ward the corral. Danny has gone riding, has
he not, Kent ?" he asked.
"Yes," replied the officer; "he went with
"Have you confidence in the corporal's dis-
cretion ? "
"Absolute!" was the emphatic answer.
" Why do you ask ? "
"Because there is some trouble with the
herd. The animals are unaccountably restless,
and the officer of the day has asked for a detail
to go out and assist in bringing them in." He
spoke in an undertone, but the captain laid a
hand upon his arm and drew him away from
the piazza.
"Are there signs of any other trouble ? he
asked gravely.
The young fellow shook his head. Not as
yet," he replied; but they seem to think it bet-
ter to be on the safe side."
He went on to his own quarters, and the
captain thoughtfully retraced his steps in the
direction of the piazza. As he regained it a
shot rang out-a shot that brought officers
and men all over the garrison to their feet,
that blanched the faces of the women, and
called forth a cry of agony from Mrs Kent.
Indians!" she moaned. "Indians! Oh,
George! and Danny! "
Her husband caught her in his arms and
carried her indoors. Courage, dearest, cour-
age!" he whispered, as he snatched up saber
and pistols, and with a hasty farewell he left
her. What he had to do must be done quickly!
The first report had been followed by an-
other, and another, as each sentinel in turn took
up and echoed the alarm. After those came
the crashing bang and roar of the six-pounder,
the sinister humming of the long roll," and the
shrill notes of the bugles as they sounded "boots
and saddles." To an inexperienced eye the
scene which resulted would have seemed like
hopeless confusion.
The barracks swarmed with hastily armed
men, the air was filled with the clatter of sabers
and the rattle of carbines, with hurriedly
shouted orders, calls, questions, till the assem-
bly put a temporary check upon the uproar
and the troopers departed for the stables.



There saddles were flung across the horses'
backs, girths were jerked tight, and, in less time
than it has taken to describe the formation, the
infantrymen detailed to protect the garrison
were at their posts behind the stockade, and
the troops of cavalry were mounted and ready
for their work.
For'rd, trot, march !" The bugles repeated
the command with blatant clamor, and the
troops swept through the gate of the corral and
halted by one of the bastions for their orders -
grimly silent, compact bodies of men, trained by

fort; K forming a skirmish-line at the foot of
the slope some hundreds of yards to the west;
and B, under Dan's own father, starting at a
brisk trot along the western face of the stock-
ade. The men were unusually grave as they
rounded its last corner. There was not one
among them who did not feel a pang at the
thought of the tiny child practically alone and
unprotected on those desolate prairies; they
were full of mute sympathy for the soldier who
rode with white, stern face at their head.
As they paused for a final momentary halt,

ON -' D I


long, hard years of such service as the soldiers
of to-day can never know. To have seen them
once in battle array is to have seen that which
one can never forget There was a quiet satis-
faction on the face of the garrison commander
as he regarded them, field-glass in hand, from
his post of observation on top of the block-
house. His wishes were briefly expressed: B,
to the north after the herd; K, to the west; L,
in reserve until needed."
Once again the bugles sounded, and the
troops separated to their respective duties L
waiting at place rest" on the plain beside the

the sergeant of the troop moved to the side of
his commander. There are some animals run-
ning by the timber to the left, Captain," he ob-
served hurriedly. The officer regarded the
moving figures intently, then he turned his face
for a brief instant full upon his followers.
"Those are mounted horsemen, lads! he ex-
claimed; and they are coming this way Col-
umn right, gallop, march! And the troopers,
catching the subtle excitement in his tone, set-
tled themselves in their saddles, and with a
rousing cheer thundered across the plain in
the direction indicated.


To Danny, as he swept along on the road to
safety, the minutes which succeeded the report
of the alarm-gun were full of anguish. He
grew sick and giddy with the rush of his pas-
sage. The rhythmic beat of the horse's feet upon
the turf mingled in a dull monotone with the
roar of the wind in his ears.
The fort grew steadily nearer. In spite of
his terror he began to distinguish the figures of
the soldiers as they swarmed about its walls in
response to the call to arms, the hurry and
confusion of the preparations, and finally even
the color of the black horses in his father's troop
as they started across the plain in his direction.
With a little moan of appeal, he turned the
Major toward them.
The friction of the reins had fretted the sweat
upon the horse's neck into a heavy lather, he
threw up his head uneasily from time to time
in the effort for more air, and at length, with a
spasm of dread, the child felt his smooth run
slacken to a pounding gallop, while in the rear,
with sinister insistence, the shrill, crooning cries
of the Indians grew perceptibly louder. Danny
glanced over his shoulder. His pursuers were
close at his heels, riding low down on their
unkempt ponies, their lithe, half-naked bodies
gleaming like bronze statues, the red and yellow
of their war-paint showing up sharply in the
strong light of the afternoon.
The boy grew sick at heart, turned once more
to the plains in front of him, and uttered a wail-
ing cry of terror.
Before him, almost at his feet, lay a yawning
gulf- one of those steep-sided arroyos which
begin in a tiny crack, and increase with the
storms and frosts of succeeding winters till
they form impassable chasms. The one in ques-
tion was fully fifteen feet in width, and the lad
clutched the animal's mane, and waited, numb
with horror, for the end. The savages, seeing
the unexpected peril which confronted him,
broke into a series of triumphant yells. At the
same moment, clear and distinct in the still air,
came the bugle-notes of the charge."

The Major threw up his head at the sound;
it was the well-remembered war-cry of his young,
strong days; it woke an answering echo in his
faithful heart, and, with a supreme and final
effort of his failing strength, he responded to its
command. The muscles on his extended neck
grew stiff and tense with energy; his nostrils
widened; he laid his small ears back, and
gathered his mighty limbs under him. On-
on--and up into the air! The lad closed
his eyes. There was a crashing, stumbling
jar, and then the horse recovered himself and
galloped jerkily forward to meet his oncoming
Danny was only vaguely conscious of the
singing of the bullets above his head and of
the cries of his baffled pursuers as they re-
treated before the fire of the troopers. He saw
his father's face through a mist of long-delayed
tears, and a significant silence fell upon the men
as they closed about the staggering horse, and
their leader lifted his son from the saddle and
held him for a brief space against his heart.

Half an hour later, when the rattle of mus-
ketry and the crash of the Gatling guns in the
sand-bag battery beside the fort had died away,
the herd had been recovered, and the Indians
had retreated to the shadows of the hills, a
small procession wound along the edge of the
timber. In the midst of it was a canvas-cov-
ered wagon with a red cross on its white sides.
About that, armed and watchful, rode the sol-
diers of L troop. Under its shelter sat the
surgeon, and at his feet lay Mackenzie, ban-
daged and cared for. As the sunlight faded
and the evening gun sounded over the plains
the little train reached the stockade, the gates
opened, and the last of our heroes gained the
friendly shelter of the walls.
So ends the story, and it has no moral.
Only, if you had seen Danny's mother that eve-
ning, as, clinging to the Major's neck, she wept
for very joy, you never could doubt the value
of fidelity and courage even in a horse.

forPthe music, merry and clear;
Sfor the Eve,the crown of the year.
I Irop the Romplng of bright girls and boys;
S R.for fthe Reindeer that bring them the loys;
Y for theYule-log softly aglow.

for theCold of Ihe sky and ihe snow;
I .1 ,,, for the Nearth where they hang up the hose;
R for the Reel which the old folks propose.
I for the cicles seen through the pane;
S for the 6leigh-bells,with tinkling refrain,
T for the Tree with gifts all abloom;
f or theistletoe hunq in the room;
A fo the Anlhems we all love to hear;
Sf'i JJ t or'L [s a -=joy of the year!

VOL. XXIV.-25.

A e, ll /

(Fifth story of the series entitled The City of Stories." Begun in the September number.)


THE Princess and the Younger Son now
were not far from the city gate. So they
walked to the gate to see whether the Tower
Clock was in sight. The Princess looked one
way, and the Younger Son looked the other.
At last they saw him striding along.
"Ready to go home ? said the Tower Clock.
"No, indeed," the Princess replied, we 're
going back to read another story."
"That 's right," said the Clock; "and I 'd
advise you to try the Chinese quarter."
Do they have a Chinese quarter here ?"
asked the Younger Son, in surprise.
Certainly," said the Tower Clock, pointing.
The Princess and the Younger Son looked
toward the quarter to which the Clock pointed,

and saw quaint bamboo roofs, dragon-flags fly-
ing, and great paper lanterns. Without an-
other word they turned their steps that way,
and soon found beneath their feet the story of

During a certain reign iri the Shin dynasty,
a governor named Queng-te ruled over one
of the Eastern Provinces. Governor Queng-te
was a very clever fellow, and what is more, he
knew it, and what is more yet, he wanted ev-
ery one else to know it. One morning he felt
so especially well pleased with himself that he
issued a proclamation to this effect: To any
person who should ask him a question that he
could not answer correctly, he promised that


there should be paid a reward of a hundred
strings of cash.
This offer remained in force a whole year;
but as Queng-te never had the least trouble in
replying to the questions put to him, the money
remained in his treasury. At the beginning of
the second year he increased the amount of-
fered to one thousand taels; and it seemed as
if he might have promised a great deal more
than that with perfect safety, for another
twelvemonth went by, and still no one was
sharp enough to win the reward.
At this period there lived in one of the dis-
tricts of the province a worthy scholar whose
name was Hop Wing. He was a youth of
good sense and great promise, having already
passed his first examination with honor, and
received his bachelor's degree. But, unfortu-
nately, he was very poor, and was forced to
eke out a living by acting as secretary to the
magistrate of the district a man by the name
of How-fu. This official was far from being
a kind master; and Mr. Wing was obliged to
work hard for miserably small pay. Moreover,
although How-fu was niggardly enough with
his money, he was quite the reverse with his
fault-finding and abuse. Whenever he had a
chance he would berate his poor secretary
roundly, often for the most trifling cause, and
sometimes for no cause whatever. The truth
is that only by the merest good luck had
How-fu passed through his examination and
secured his present position, for which in real-
ity he was not at all a fit person; and, knowing
that Mr. Wing was a young man of merit and
well liked in the district, he was jealous of him,
and wanted to keep him crowded back in ob-
scurity. In fact, he would not have been sorry
for a chance to put him out of the way alto-
One day How-fu came to his secretary in
a towering rage. He declared he had just
missed from his treasury a bag containing the
sum of one thousand taels. It had been in a
certain place the night before, and now it was
gone. No one but Mr. Wing knew where it
had been put, consequently, it being no longer
there, he must have stolen it.
On hearing this charge the poor secretary
was thunderstruck; but as soon as he could

find his voice he protested his innocence vehe-
mently. To what purpose? His words were
merely wasted breath. The magistrate would
not listen, and would hardly allow him an op-
portunity to speak at all.
"You thieving rascal!" he cried;, "restore
the treasure you have stolen, or you shall lose
your head. I give you twenty-four hours to
decide whether you will surrender the one or
the other."
"Alas! how am I to restore that which I
have not? exclaimed the unfortunate Mr.
Wing. I know no more where your money
is than does a child just born."
Oh! then since you have forgotten where
you have hidden it," sneered his master, why
do you not go and ask our wise governor about
it? No doubt His Excellency will tell you at
once where it is; or even should he be unable
to do so, he will present you, according to his
promise, with the sum of one thousand taels.
So in either case you will be in a position to
make good what you have taken from me."
Although it grieved him sorely to be charged
with a crime he had not committed, neverthe-
less, seeing that he could not prove his inno-
cence, Mr. Wing found some comfort in these
last words of his cruel master. There seemed
to lie a way out of the difficulty that was well
worth considering.
Grant me the time to go to the capital and
see the governor, and I will do what I can to
save my head," said he.
"I give you a week's grace," replied the
magistrate. "At the end of that time I must
have either my taels or your worthless head.
So remember," he added grimly, "it is head or
taels with you."
The wicked How-fu could afford to joke, for
he was very well aware-none better-where
the missing bag lay; and as he was quite sure
Governor Queng-te could not know anything
about the matter, he confidently expected Hop
Wing to bring back a thousand taels, which he
would then add to his already large hoard.
The next day, accompanied by a guard im-
posed upon him by How-fu, the unhappy secre-
tary started on his journey up to the capital
city of the province. After three days he ar.
rived there safely, and was hastening to present


himself before the wise Queng-te, when a start-
ling piece of news came to his ears. It seemed
that on that very morning the governor, who
now began to look on himself as the cleverest
person in the empire, had again amended his
proclamation so as to make it stand in effect as
"Whoever shall ask His Excellency a ques-
tion to which he cannot at once give
the correct answer, shall be made a
magistrate when the next vacancy
shall occur in the province; but
whoever shall try to do this,
and shall fail, shall lose r
his head."
Certainly here
was a great
change in the
state of affairs.
As the case
now rested, ,
unhappy Mr. .. .
Wing's life was
worth little indeed. /* '
Suppose he should
ask Queng-te about
the lost treasure,
what would be the
result? Either the .
governor could tell
him where it was,
and he must lose his
head because his
question would have
been answered, or he
could not tell him, f"',
and he must lose ,
his head because he ,.' '- |
would have failed to
restore the one thousand taels
to his master. Thus, in either
event, his head would shortly be
where the treasure seemed to be -
that is to say, missing. Is it strange,
under the circumstances, that the luckless Mr.
Wing knew not what to do? What could
he do? Fate had put before him a puzzle
that he could not solve to save his life. One
thing, however, was certain: he was no longer
in a hurry to call on Governor Queng-te, for

now nothing was to be gained by such a step,
and everything was to be lost.
Filled with despondency, he betook himself
to an inn, where he hoped to get a much
needed night's rest, for his long journey had
greatly fatigued him. But his mind was too
full of his troubles to permit of his sleeping,
and so, after tossing restlessly for some hours,
he resolved to go out and get a breath
of fresh air. Accordingly, he stepped
carefully over his guard, who lay
soundly sleeping by the door, and
presently found his way to the
street. Then he began to
walk, and he walked so
far that finally he came
into a new part of the
city, where he saw a
number of people en-
tearing a gateway that
Sled into a large pri-
vate garden. As he
stood looking on, he
; heard that it was a
Wedding -party, and
,: -"' among the guests he
recognized his pretty
cousin whose name
$1._ was Ning Woo. She
'- asked him if he would
like to attend the
wedding. On his ac-
A. cepting her invitation,
S she conducted him
through this gateway
and into the house.
SAfter having passed
through several fine
rooms, they came into
one that was larger
and more magnificent
than any Mr. Wing
had seen hitherto.
Here was gathered
"'" a numerous com-
"1 pany of ladies and
-, gentlemen, all of
Y whom appeared to
"SHE CONDUCTED HIM THROUGH be persons of con-
HOUSE." sequence. Pres-



ently the bride entered the apartment, attended
by a dozen or more young girls, among whom
was Miss Ning Woo. The groom being al-
ready there, the party now sat down to the
wedding-feast, at which the most exquisite
meats and wines were served. The guests
were in the liveliest spirits, as was quite natural,
and merry jests and ripples of laughter were
frequently heard, though all the while perfect
good-breeding and decorum were maintained.
By and by boiling water was brought in, and
fragrant tea was handed about in cups of finest
porcelain. Then a number of the young men
and young girls arose, and, taking position on
the floor, entertained the company by dancing
several pleasing figures to the music of flageo-
lets. Each dancer carried a gauze lantern in
the shape of a water-lily or some other beauti-
ful flower, and at the close of their dance each
in a graceful manner offered a pretty little gift
to some one of the spectators.. Nobody was for-
gotten in the distribution: Mr. Wing received a
piece of sky-blue silk of fine texture, on which
a picture had been painted. This was pre-
sented to him by his cousin, Miss Ning.
"I beg you will do me the honor to accept
this," said she, with a charming smile. "It is
of my own handiwork. If you will hang it on
the wall in your room to-night, I hope it may
bring you good luck."
In due time, all the festivities being over, the
assemblage broke up, and Mr. Wing was shown
to the room where -he was to pass the re-
mainder of the night. There, recalling the ad-
vice of Miss Ning, he hung the little painting
on the wall. Then he lay -down upon a sleep-
ing-mat, and, forgetting all his tribulations, at
once fell into a sound slumber.
After a while he suddenly awoke, and at the
same instant his eyes fixed themselves on Miss
Ning's gift. Strange to relate, the picture was
growing larger. Indeed, it grew so rapidly
that in a few moments it covered entirely the
wall where it had been hung. In it were sev-
eral human figures, now of life-size. One of
them-that of an old priest-presently stepped
out from its place, and thus addressed the as-
tonished Mr. Wing:
My son, I come to you in this yTtncr that
I may do you a service. I know,-of your diffi-

.-- ---. _- ----



culties, and I can put you in a way to, extricate
yourself from them. I have a brother who
is far wiser and more powerful than I, and
it is to him that I shall send you for aid.
You cannot reach him without some peril, for
there are always wicked demons abroad who
try to prevent good actions from being done.
However, if you will follow my instructions,
you will escape with nothing worse than a
bad fright. Take this wooden sword, and
use it freely in defending yourself. If you
should be too sorely pressed, call upon my
brother, Ten Shun by name, and he will send
you relief."
Having spoken these words, the aged priest
returned to the wall, and became again a part
of the painting, which then quickly shrank to
its original size.
While Mr. Wing was regretting that he had
not asked the old gentleman how he was to
find his brother, he heard the watchman in the
street beating midnight on his wooden gong.


This sound had hardly died away when there
came a crashing of glass, and then a small bird,
looking much like a bat, flew into the room,
and settled down to the floor. It had no
sooner alighted than it began to increase in size
until, much to Mr. Wing's alarm, it had become
a full-fledged dragon, and began to vomit forth
flame and smoke in a frightful manner. The
fierce creature rushed upon the young man as
if bent on his destruction, but the latter in-
stinctively raised his wooden sword and warded
off the attack. Finding itself thus baffled, the
dragon retreated for a moment, then suddenly
dashed down, and seizing Mr. Wing in its claws,
flew away, carrying off a part of the house-roof
on its back as it did so.
Although considerably frightened, the young
man did not lose all his courage. With his
magic sword he hewed and hacked at the drag-
on's claws so vigorously that the creature
shortly was forced to drop him to the ground.
As soon as he touched earth he put his legs to
good use by running away with all his might.
Thereupon his enemy changed itself into a
huge demon with four heads and eight legs,
and started in hot pursuit. By dint of great
exertion Mr. Wing succeeded in keeping the
lead until he came to a river, which he was
much puzzled to know how to cross. As the
demon was close upon him, he had no other
resort than to pronounce the name of Ten
Shun, which he did in a loud voice. Imme-
diately he was changed into a stone, and at the
same moment his own shadow appeared on the
opposite bank of the river. The demon, arriv-
ing on the spot, saw the shadow and stupidly
mistook it for the reality. Uttering a howl of
rage, he caught up the stone that was Hop
Wing and cast it across the river after the
shadow that was not Hop Wing. Thus did the
young man reach the other bank, and once
there, he was restored to his natural form. But
the demon was not easily baffled. When he
saw his intended victim making off, he changed
himself into a dry leaf and was blown over the
river after him. Alighting, he turned back into
.a demon and continued the chase. Mr. Wing
now plunged into a dense wood, but ere long,
being hard pressed, he again called upon Ten
Shun for assistance. His call was answered,

and he became a thick mist which so obscured
everything in the forest that for a few moments
the demon was quite nonplussed to think where
his prey could have escaped to. But he was
by no means at the end of his resources yet.
He changed himself into a roaring fire, and soon
entirely dried up the mist. As Mr. Wing, in
the form of vapor, rose toward the clouds
he was transformed into a kite shaped like a
dragon and really quite horrible to look upon.
His enemy was nothing daunted, however, for
he quickly grasped the string and pulled it in
until he had the kite fast in his clutches.
When Mr. Wing came back to his natural
form, what was his alarm to find that the demon
had hung him from the bough of a tree by a
stout cord which was tied securely about his



neck! Yet, strange to say, although he was
dangling helplessly with his feet at some dis-
tance from the ground, the knot did not choke

- [JAN.


him or cause him any serious discomfort. Still
the position was far from being pleasant, and so
now for the third time he pronounced the name
of Ten Shun. No immediate response came,
but as soon as the demon -who evidently
thought he had made an end of Hop Wing -
had disappeared among the trees, the rope be-
gan of itself to lengthen, so that in a few mo-
ments the young man was standing on firm
earth once more. A touch of the wooden
sword released him from his hempen necktie,
and he was again free. Just then he suddenly
became aware that a venerable man stood be-
fore him.
"Hop Wing," said this person, "you have
called me, and I am here. You are in trouble,
and as I think you deserving of aid, I shall
help you."
Whereupon the old man, who was no other
than Ten Shun, took from his girdle a small
bamboo pipe and blew into it gently. In a
moment a pill not much larger than a grain of
rice dropped out. This he presented to Hop
Wing, saying:
"Swallow this, and by its virtue knowledge
shall be yours that will take you safely through
all difficulties and dangers."
Mr. Wing put the pill into his mouth, when
straightway it seemed to slip down his throat
of its own accord. Immediately all his cares
and perplexities vanished; and when he turned
to thank the old priest he had vanished also.
Nor were these the only strange things that
came to pass; for all of a sudden Mr. Wing
seemed to awake as if from a dream, and on
rubbing his eyes he perceived that he had been
lying upon the hard ground on a hillside near a
large fox-hole. Then he knew he had fallen
in with some fox-people, one of whom had as-
sumed the form of his cousin, and that they had
befriended him.*
Thanks to the priest's pill, Mr. Wing now
could see his course laid out before him plainly.
With a light heart he made his way back to the
inn, where he found his guard in a sad fright
over his supposed escape.
Having refreshed himself with some breakfast,
he confidently set out to seek an audience with

the governor, who received him without too
much delay. To him he made known the story
of the missing treasure, and having done so, he
concluded his address in these words:
"Your Excellency will realize therefore that
I am in a most awkward dilemma. What I
desire to ask is this- and I doubt not your
Excellency will be able to give me a correct an-
swer to my question: How am I to get out of
my difficulty and yet save my life ? "
For the first time since issuing his famous
proclamation Queng-te hesitated to reply to a
questioner. In truth he was as much puzzled
to save his credit as had been Hop Wing the
day before to save his life. According to the
terms of the proclamation, every questioner
whom he answered correctly must forfeit his
head; but in this case if the questioner lost his
head, then his question would not have been
correctly answered. Here was a state of things
which, with all his cleverness, the governor had
not foreseen. What reply should he make to
Mr. Wing's query ? The more he cogitated
over this matter the more bewildering did it be-
come. Finally, quite at a loss what else to do,
he took refuge in an evasion. Assuming an air
of great dignity and unutterable wisdom, he
Young man, your undeserved misfortunes
touch me deeply; and as I should be loath to
add to them by depriving you of your life, I
shall consider your question as not asked. I
strongly suspect that Magistrate How-fu has
treated you with unmerited rigor, and I shall
have his affairs looked into at once. Mean-
while, you will remain under my especial pro-
On investigation it was proved not only that
How-fu had hidden away the bag of one thou-
sand taels which he had accused his secretary
of stealing, but that he had embezzled funds to
a large amount. Accordingly he was put to
death as a punishment for his wrong-doings;
and Mr. Wing, who was quite worthy of the
honor, was appointed to the vacant place. And
thus was kept Governor's Queng-te's promise
that whoever succeeded in puzzling him should
be made a magistrate to fill the first vacancy.

There is a superstition among the Chinese that foxes have the power of taking human shape at will, and are
supernaturally gifted to work enchantments for the good or evil of ordinary mortals, as may suit their purposes.

~T~I _

- ~ -~O I

y 'H E makers of ancient maps
were accustomed to introduce
S pictures freely. In deserts
there would be drawings of
lions, and along rivers they made "river-horses,"
--which is the meaning of the Greek words
that were put together to make up "hippopo-
tamus." As for the oceans, they were filled
up with any queer monsters that came to
hand; Of course these pictures helped to hide
grear -p.t:-es that would otherwise have been
staring blanks.
Besides, men understood very little about
the strange happenings in the world around
them, and invented fairy-tales to explain these
mysteries. It is not remarkable, then, that so
late as Columbus's time his sailors did not at
all like to think of sailing westward into the
unknown ocean full of such fabulous creatures
and magic happenings. Even with all that
wise and studious men have learned since, there
is enough to be met with in a long ocean voyage
to excite wonder and alarm.
Sailors may see auroras, the strange North-
ern Lights," the cause of which is even now
little more than guessed at; they may be sur-
rounded by water-spouts, which are not en-
tirely explained as yet; they may meet" tidal"
(that is, earthquake) waves, that rise from thirty
to sixty feet, or even more, above the surface;
they may be amazed by St. Elmo's fire," the
sparkling flames that play about masts and rig-

1 9'
I" I

going; they may behold lightning in globe-form,
sheet flashes, or forked bolts; they are sure to
sail through the phosphorescence that has but
lately been traced to animal life. Then, too,
storms and calms, fogs and moonlight, bring
strange sights.
Altogether, the ocean is a wonderland that
has new marvels every day; the very color of
the sea is hardly twice the same.
Yet, amid all these wonders, to one sight es-
pecially is the name "wonderful" applied in
many languages -for mirage, coming from
the Latin through the French, means simply
" The Wonderful." Nor is it strange that the
mirage should have won this name. Imagine
that you are with the two fishermen in the pic-
ture on the next page. It is a hot, hazy day,
and you are drifting lazily along over a quiet
sea, when suddenly you hear an exclamation
from one of the sailors. Looking up, you see
him pointing above the horizon. Following
the gesture, you are amazed at the sight that
has made him cry out.
In the sky you see a bark with sails set,
while, upside-down, floats its image just below.
At times, it is said, the upper rigging also ap-
pears in a third image just above the horizon.
That is the wonderful sight the mirage.
Books of adventure have made us all familiar
with another form of the mirage. Travelers in the
desert are often deceived by the appearance of a
lake, upon the borders of which are seen trees


--- ~-- ILI
~ ~j. -Aor. ~enks
5~a- I;::-.


reflected in the glassy surface; but on attempt-
ing to approach the water, the thirsty travelers
find themselves no nearer to the lake- it seems
to tantalize them by keeping just out of reach.

layers of air differently heated. When these
rays are so bent as to be almost level with a
layer of air, they do not enter it at all, but (so
to speak) glance off, and are reflected as if


The cause of the mirage is now well under-
stood so well understood, that there are ways
of making small mirages for experiment.
S The simplest explanation that I can give is
to say that the rays of light coming from the
thing that is seen are bent in going through
VOL. XXIV.- 26.

from a mirror. Then the air reflects just as
a glass mirror or a body of water would, if
it lay between the eye and the trees or ship.
This explanation will give you a general idea
of the cause of the mirage. In the case of the
desert the reflecting air-mirror is believed by


the observer to be water, and the image changes The fata Morgana is a form or modifica-
its place as you go forward just as a reflection tion of mirage often seen in the straits that
would move as you advanced on a glass mirror. separate the toe of the boot" of Italy and
the island of Sicily, just oppo-

* iv

N <<'5<>
K>/- i

site. When the sun is just at
the right position, and sea
and air are also ready to help,
strange views of objects upon
the opposite coast are seen from
Calabria sometimes magni-
fied, and set against a back-
ground of colored mists. Fata
Morgana" means the Fairy of


In the case of the ship, the air-mirror seems during a hot and still summer day, by placing
to be above you, and reflects the ship which is the eye close to the surface of a dry road,-a
really out of sight over the horizon. But I mirage can be seen; but I have never tried it.
do not pretend to explain all about the different Before these and other strange sights were
images that may possibly be formed under understood and explained, we need not wonder
different conditions of the atmosphere-that that sailors and travelers held many strange
is a school-room task, and a hard one. beliefs in regard to them.



[Begun in the November number.]
HE ancient city of Cov-
entry stands upon a
little hill, with old St.
Michael's steeple and
the spire of Holy Trin-
Sity church rising above
it against the sky; and,
as the master-player
and the boy came
climbing upward from
the south, walls, tow-
ers, chimneys, and red-tiled roofs were turned
to gold by the glow of the setting sun.

To Nick it seemed as if a halo overhung the
town--a ruddy glory and a wonder bright;
for here the Grey Friars of the great monastery
had played their holy mysteries and miracle-
plays for over a hundred years; here the trade-
guilds had held their pageants when the friars'
day was done; here were all the wonders that
old men told by winter fires.
People were coming and going through the
gates like bees about a hive; and in the distance
Nick could hear the sound of many voices, the
rush of feet, wheels, and hoofs, and the shrill
pipe of music. Here and there were little
knots of country folk making holiday-a fa-
ther and mother with a group of rosy children;
a lad and his lass, spruce in new finery, and gay
with bits of ribbon,-merry groups that were


ever changing. Gay banners flapped on tall
ash staves. The suburb fields were filled with
booths and tents and stalls and butts for arch-
ery. The very air seemed eager with the eve
of holiday.
But what to Nick was breathless wonder was
to Carew only a twice-told tale; so he pushed

through the crow
thoroughfares, amid
throng that made Nic
head spin round,
came quickly, to
Blue Boar Inn.
The court was cro'
ed to the gates v
horses, travelers,
serving-men; and h
and there and ev


and -, ,

and It,'
erey I'
ery- ,

where rushed the busy innkeeper, with a linen
napkin fluttering on his arm, his cap half off,
and in his hot hand a pewter flagon, from
which the brown ale dripped in spatters on
his fat legs as he flew.
"They 're here," said Carew, looking
shrewdly about; for there is Gregory Goole,
my groom, and Stephen Magelt,
the tire-man. In with thee, Nich-
He put Nick before him with
-- ?aa little air of patronage, and pushed
him into the room.
It was a large, low chamber,
with heavy beams overhead, hung
with leather jacks and pewter tank-
ards. Around the walls stood
1. ,. | rough tables, at which a medley

I! '

/ -

~r ~-;
,i. ~-c~s-
-CP~ ~Ldc-N~-%13~a _
L.- ,_

1?0 :7



of guests sat eating, drinking, dicing, playing
at cards, and talking loudly all at once, while
the tapster and the cook's knave sped wildly
At a great table in the midst of the riot Sat
the Lord High Admiral's players--a score or

which Nick had never seen before. But all
the diners looked up when Carew's face was
recognized, and welcomed him with a deafening
He waved his hand for silence.
"Thanks for these kind plaudits, gentle


more loud-swashing gallants, richly clad in ruffs
and bands, embroidered shirts, Italian doublets
slashed and laced, Venetian hose, gay velvet
caps with jeweled bands, and every man a po-
niard or a rapier at his hip. Nick felt very
much like a little brown sparrow in a flock of
gaudy Indian birds.
The board was loaded down with meat and
drink; and some of the players were eating
with forks, a new trick from the London court,

friends," said he, with a i,.i:cking air; I have
"Yes; we see that ye have, Gaston," they all
shouted, and laughed again.
".Ay," said he, thrusting his hand into his
pouch, ye fled, and left me to be spoiled by
the spoiler, but ye see I have left the spoiler
Lifting his hand triumphantly, he shook in
their faces the golden chain that the burgesses


of Stratford had given him, and then, laying his
hand upon Nick's shoulder, bowed to them all,
and to him with courtly grace, and said: "Be
known, be known all! Gentlemen, my Lord
Admiral's Players, Master Nicholas Skylark,
the sweetest singer in all the kingdom of Eng-
land !"
Nick's cheeks flushed hotly, and his eyes fell;
for they all stared curiously, first at him, and
then at Carew standing up behind him, and
several grinned mockingly, and winked in a
knowing way. He stole a look at Carew; but
the master-player's face was frank and quite
unmoved, so that Nick felt reassured.
"Why, sirs," said Carew, as some began to
laugh and to speak to one another covertly,
"it is no jest. He hath a sweeter voice than
Cyril Davy's, the best woman's-voice in all
London town. Upon my word, it is the sweet-
est voice a body ever heard--outside of
heaven and the holy angels!"--he lowered
his tone, and bowed his head a little "I '1
stake mine honour on it !"
"Hast any, Gaston ? called a jeering voice,
whereat the whole room roared.
But Carew cried again in a high voice that
would be heard above the noise: Now, hark
'e; what I say is so. It is, upon my word, and
on the remnant of mine honour! And to-mor-
row ye shall see; for Master Skylark is to sing
and play with us."
When he had said that, nothing would do
but Nick must sit down and eat with them; so
they made a place for him and for Master
Nick bent his head and said a grace, at which
some of them laughed, until Carew shook his
head with a stern frown; and before he ate
he bowed politely to them all, as his mother
had taught him to do. They all bowed mock-
ingly, and hilariously offered him wine, which,
when he refused, they pressed upon him, until
Carew stopped them, saying that he would
have no more of that. As he spoke he clapped
his hand upon his poniard, and scowled blackly.
They all laughed, but offered Nick no more
wine; instead, they picked him choice morsels,
and made a great deal of him, until his silly
young head was quite turned, and he sat up
and gave himself a few airs-not many, for

Stratford was no great place in which to pick
up airs.
When they had eaten they wanted Nick to
sing; but again Carew interposed. Nay,"
said he; "he hath just eaten his fill, so he can-
not sing. Moreover, he is no jackdaw to screech
in such a cage as this. He shall not sing until
to-morrow, in the play."
At this some of the leading players who held
shares in the venture demurred, doubting if
Nick could sing at all; but-"Hark 'e," said
Master Carew shortly, clapping his hand upon
his poniard, I say that he can. Do ye take
me? "
So they said no more; and shortly after he
took Nick away, and left them over their tan-
kards, singing uproariously.
The Blue Boar Inn had not a bed to spare,
nor had the players kept a place for Carew;
at which he smiled grimly, said he 'd not forget
it, and took lodgings for himself and Nick at
the Three Tuns in the next street.
Nick spoke indeed of his mother's cousin,
with whom he had meant to stay, but the mas-
ter-player protested warmly; so, little loath,
and much flattered by the attentions of so
great a man, Nick gave over the idea and said
no more about it.
When the chamberlain had shown them to
their room and they were both undressed, Nick
knelt beside the bed and said a prayer, as he
always did at home. Carew watched him curi-
ously. It was quiet there, and the light dim;
Nick was young, and his yellow hair was very
curly. Carew could hear the faint breath mur-
muring through the boy's lips as he prayed,
and while he stared at the little white figure
his mouth twitched in a queer way. But he
tossed his head, and muttered to himself, "What,
Gaston Carew, turning soft? Nay, nay. I '11
do it, on my soul I will! rolled into bed and
was soon fast asleep.

As for Nick, what with the excitement of the
day, the dazzling fancies in his brain, his tired
legs, the weird night noises in the town, and
strange, tremendous dreams, he scarce could
get to sleep at all; but toward morning he fell
into a refreshing doze, and did not wake until
the town was loud with May.




IT was soon afternoon. All Coventry was
thronged with people keeping holiday, and
at the Blue Boar a scene of wild confusion
Tap-room and hall were crowded with guests;
and in the cobbled court horses innumerable
stamped and whinnied. The players, with
knitted brows, stalked about the quieter nooks,
going over their several parts, and looking to
their costumes, which were for the most part
upon their backs; while the thumping and
pounding of the carpenters at work upon the
stage in the inn-yard was enough to drive a
quiet-loving person wild.
Nick scarcely knew whether he were on his
head or on his heels. The master-player would
not let him eat at all, after once breaking his fast,
for fear it might affect his voice, and had him
say his lines a hundred times until he had them
pat. Then he was off, directing here, there,
and everywhere, until the court was cleared of
all that had no business there, and the last sur-
reptitious small boy had been duly projected
from the gates by Peter Hostler's hobnailed
Now, Nick," said Carew, coming up all in
a gale, and throwing a sky-blue silken cloak
about Nick's shoulders, "thou 'It enter here ";
and he led him to a hallway door just opposite
the gates. "When Master Whitelaw, as the
Duke, calls out,' How now, who comes?-I '11
match him for the ale!' be quickly in and an-
swer to thy part; and, marry, boy, don't miss
thy cues, or-tsst, thy head 's not worth a
peascod!" With that he clapped his hand
upon his poniard and glared into Nick's eyes,
as if to look clear through to the back of
the boy's wits. Nick heard his white teeth
grind, and was all at once very much afraid of
him, for he did indeed look dreadful.
So Nicholas Attwood stood by the entry
door, with his heart in his throat, waiting his
He could hear the pages in the courtyard
outside shouting for stools for their masters,
and squabbling over the best places upon the
stage. Then the gates creaked and there came

a wild rush of feet and a great crying out as
the 'prentices and burghers trooped into the
inn-yard, pushing and crowding for places near
the stage. Those who had the money bawled
aloud for farthing stools: The rest stood jos-
tling in a wrangling crowd upon the ground,
while up and down a girl's shrill voice went all
the time, crying high," Cherry ripe, cherry ripe!
Who '11 buy my sweet May cherries? "
Then there was another shout and a rattling
tread of feet along the wooden balconies that
ran around the walls of the inn-yard, and cries
from the- apprentices below: "Good-day, fair
Master Harrington! Good-day, Sir Thomas
Parkes! Good-day, sweet Mistress Nettleby
and Master Nettleby! Good-day, good-day,
good-day! for the richer folk were coming in
at twopence each, and all the galleries were
full. And then he heard the baker's boy with
sugared cakes and ginger-nuts go stamping up
the stairs.
The musicians in the balcony overhead were
tuning up. There was a flute, a viol, a gittern,
a fiddle, and a drum; and behind the curtain,
just outside the door, Nick could hear the mas-
ter-player's low voice giving hasty orders to the
So he said his lines all over to himself, and
cleared his throat. Then on a sudden a shutter
opened high above the orchestra, a trumpet
blared, the kettledrum crashed, and he heard
a loud voice shout:
Good citizens of Coventry, and high-born
gentles all: know ye now that we, the players
of the company of His Grace, Charles, Lord
Howard, High Admiral of England, Ireland,
Wales, Calais, and Boulogne, the marches of
Normandy, Gascony, and Aquitaine, Captain-
General of the Navy and the Seas of Her
SGracious Majesty the Queen-"
At that the crowd in the courtyard cheered
and cheered again.
"-will, with your kind permission, play
forthwith the laughable comedy of The Three
Grey Gowns,' by Master Thomas Heywood,
in which will be spoken many good things, old
and new, and a brand-new song will be sung.
Now, hearken all-the play begins!"
The trumpet blared, the kettledrum crashed
again, and as a sudden hush fell over the throng



without, Nick heard the voices of the players
going on.
It was a broad farce, full of loud jests and
nonsense, a great thwacking of sticks and tum-
bling about; and Nick, with his eye to the
crack of the door, listened with all his ears
for his cue, far too excited even to think of
laughing at the rough jokes, though the crowd
in the inn-yard roared till they held their
Carew came hurrying up with an anxious
look in his restless eyes.
Ready, Nicholas! said he sharply, taking
Nick by the arm and lifting the latch. Go
straight down front now, as I told thee mind
thy cues speak boldly sing as thou didst
sing for me and if thou wouldst not break
mine heart, do not fail me now! I have staked
it all upon thee here and we must win! "
How now, who comes ?" Nick heard
a loud voice call outside the door-latch
clicked behind him- he was out in the open
air and down the stage before he quite knew
where he was.
The stage was built against the wall just op-
posite the gates. It was but a temporary plat-
form of planks laid upon trestles. One side of
it was against the wall, and around the three
other sides the crowd was packed close to the
platform rail.
At the ends, upon the boards, several wealthy
gallants sat on high three-legged stools, within
arm's reach of the players acting there. The
courtyard was a sea of heads, and the bal-
conies were filled with gentlefolk in holiday
attire, eating cakes and chaffing gaily at the
play. All was one bewildered cloud of staring
eyes to Nick, and the only thing which he was
sure he saw was the painted sign that hung
upon the curtain at the rear, which in the lack
of other scenery announced in large red print:
"This is a Room in Master Jonah Jackdawe's
And then he heard the last quick words,
"I '11 match him for the ale! and started on
his lines.
It was not that he said so ill what little he
had to say, but that his voice was homelike
and familiar in its sound, one of their own,
with no amazing London accent to the words

-just the speech of every-day, the sort that
they all knew.
First, some one in the yard laughed out a
shock-headed ironmonger's apprentice, Whoy,
bullies, there be hayseed in his hair. 'T is
took off pasture over-soon. I fecks! they 've
plucked him green!"
There was a hoarse, exasperating laugh.
Nick hesitated in his lines. The player at his
back tried to prompt him, but only made the
matter worse, and behind the green curtain at
the door a hand went clap upon a dagger-
hilt. The play lagged, and the crowd began
to jeer. Nick's heart was full of fear and of
angry shame that he had dared to try. Then
all at once there came a brief pause, in which
he vaguely realized that no one spoke. The
man behind him thrust him forward, and
whispering wrathfully, Quick, quick sing
up, thou little fool!" stepped back and left
him there alone.
A viol overhead took up the time, the gittern
struck a few sharp notes. This unexpected mu-
sic stopped the noise, and all was still. Nick
thought of his mother's voice singing on a sum-
mer's evening among the hollyhocks, and as
the viol's droning died away he drew a deep
breath and began to sing the words of" Hey-
wood's newest song":

Pack, clouds, away, and welcome, day;
With night we banish sorrow;
Sweet air, blow soft; mount, lark, aloft,
To give my love good-morrow!

It was only a part of a madrigal, the air to
which they had fitted the words --the same air
that Nick had sung in the woods- a thing
scarce meant ever to be sung alone, a simple
strain, a few plain notes, and at the close one
brief, queer, warbling trill like a bird's wild
song, that rose and fell and rose again like a
silver ripple.
The instruments were still; the fresh young
voice came out alone, and it was done so soon
that Nick hardly knew that he had sung at all.
For a moment no one seemed to breathe.
Then there was a very great noise, and all the
court seemed hurling at him. A man upon
the stage sprang to his feet. What they were
going to do to him Nick did not know. He



gave a frightened cry, and ran past the green
curtain, through the open door, and into the
master-player's excited arms.
Quick, quick! cried Carew. Go back, go
back! There, hark !- dost not hear them call ?
Quick, out again they call thee back!"
With that he thrust Nick through the door.
The man upon the stage came up, slipped
something into his hand-Nick, all bewildered,
knew not what; and there he stood, quite stu-
pefied, not knowing what to do. Then Carew
came out hastily and led him down the stage,
bowing, and pressing his hand to his heart, and
smiling like a summer sunrise; so that Nick,
seeing this, did the same, and bowed as neatly
as he could; though, to be sure, his was only a
simple country-bred bow, and no such ceremo-
nious to-do as Master Carew's courtly London
Every one was standing up and shouting so
that not a soul could hear his ears, until the iron-
monger's apprentice bellowed above the rest;
" Whoy, bullies!" he shouted, amid a chorus of
cheers and laughter, "did n't I say 't was
catched out in the fields -it be a skylark,
sure enough! Come, Muster Skylark, sing that
song again, an' thou shalt ha' my brand-new
cap !"
Then many voices cried out together, Sing
itagain! The Skylark the Skylark!"
Nick looked up, startled. Why, Master Ca-
rew," said he, with a tremble in his voice, "do
they mean me ?"
Carew put one hand beneath Nick's chin
and turned his face up, smiling. The mas-
ter-player's cheeks were flushed with triumph,
and his dark eyes danced with pride: "Ay,
Nicholas Skylark; 't is thou they mean."
The viol and the music came again from
overhead, and when they ceased Nick sang
the little song once more. And when the mas-
ter-player had taken him outside, and the play
was over, some fine ladies came and kissed
him, to his great confusion; for no one but his
mother or his kin had ever done so before, and
these had much perfume about them, musk and
rose-attar, so that they smelled like rose-mal-
lows in July. The players of the Lord Ad-
miral's company were going about shaking
hands with Carew and with each other as if

they had not met for years, and slapping one
another upon the back; and one came over, a
tall, solemn, black-haired man, he who had
written the song, and stood with his feet apart
and stared at Nick, but spoke never a word,
which Nick thought was very singular. But as
he turned away he said, with a world of pity in
his voice," And I have writ two hundred'plays,
yet never saw thy like. Lad, lad, thou art a
jewel in a wild swine's snout! which Nick did
not understand at all; nor why Master Carew
said so sharply, Come, Heywood, hold thy
blabbing tongue; we are all in the same sty."
"Speak for thyself, Gat Carew !" answered
Master Heywood firmly. I '11 have no hand
in this affair, I tell thee'once for all!"
Master Carew flushed queerly and bit his
lip, and, turning hastily away, took Nick to
walk about the town. Nick then, for the first
time, looked into his hand to see what the
man upon the stage had given him. It was
a gold rose-noble.



THROUGH the high streets of the third city
of the realm Master Gaston Carew strode as
if he were a very king, and Coventry his
There was music everywhere,- of pipers and
fiddlers, drums, tabrets, flutes, and horns,- and
there were dancing bears upon the corners,
with minstrels, jugglers, chapmen crying their
singsong wares, and such a mighty hurly-burly
as Nick had never seen before. And wherever
there was a wonder to be seen, Carew had
Nick see it, though it cost a penny a peep, and
lifted him to watch the fencing and quarter-
staff play in the market-place. And at one
of the gay booths he bought gilt ginger-nuts
and caraway cakes with currants on the top,
and gave them all to Nick, who thanked him
kindly, but said, if Master Carew pleased, he 'd
rather have his supper, for he was very hungry.
"Why, to be sure," said Carew, and tossed
a silver penny for a scramble to the crowd;
"thou shalt have the finest supper in the town."
Whereupon, bowing to all the great folk they




met, and being bowed to most politely in re- to think that there was not in all the world
turn, they came to the Three Tuns. another gentleman so grand as Master Gaston




Stared at by a hundred curious eyes, made Carew, and also to have a pleasant notion
way for everywhere, and followed by wonder- that Nicholas Attwood was no bad fellow
ing exclamations of envy, it was little wonder himself.
that Nick, a simple country lad, at last began The lordly innkeeper came smirking and
VOL. XXIV .-27
i a o it was lte

VoL. XXIv.--27.


bobbing obsequiously about, with his freshest
towel on his arm, and took the master-player's
order as a dog would take a bone.
"Here, sirrah," said Carew haughtily; "fetch
us some repast, I care not what, so it be whole-
some food a green Banbury cheese, some
simnel bread and oat-cakes; a pudding, hark 'e,
sweet and full of plums, with honey and a
pasty a meat pasty, marry, a pasty made of
fat and toothsome eels; and moreover, fellow,
ale to wash it down -none of thy penny ale,
mind ye, too weak to run out of the spigot, but
snapping good brew dost take me ? with
beef and mustard, tripe, herring, and a good
fat capon broiled to a turn! "
The innkeeper gaped like a fish.
"How now, sirrah? Dost think I cannot
pay thy score ? quoth Carew sharply.
"Nay, nay," stammered the host; but, sir,
where where will ye put it all without burst-
ing into bits ? "
"Be off with thee!" cried Carew sharply.
"That is my affair. Nay, Nick," said he,
laughing at the boy's astonished look; "we
shall not burst. What we do not have to-night,
we '11 have in the morning. 'T is the way with
these inns to feed the early birds with scraps
- so the more we leave from supper the more
we '11 have for breakfast. And thou wilt need
a good breakfast to ride on all day long."
"Ride?" exclaimed Nick. "Why, sir, I was
minded to walk back to Stratford, and keep
my gold rose-noble whole.."
"Walk? cried the master-player scornfully.
"Thou, with thy golden throat? Nay, Nicho-
las, thou shalt ride to-morrow like a very king,
if I have to pay for the horse myself, twelve
pence the day!" and with that he began
chuckling, as if it were a joke.
But Nick stood up, and bowing, thanked
him gratefully; at which the master-player
went from chuckling to laughing, and leered
at Nick so oddly that the boy would have
thought him tipsy, save that there had been
nothing yet to drink. And a queer sense of
uneasiness came creeping over him as he
watched the master-player's eyes opening and
shutting, opening and shutting, so that one
moment he seemed to be staring and the next
almost asleep; though all the while his keen

dark eyes peered out from between the lids
like old dog-foxes from their holes, looking
Nick over from head to foot, and from foot to
head again, as if measuring him with an ell-
When the supper came, filling the whole
table and the sideboard too, Nick arose to
serve the meat as he was used at home; but,
"Nay, Nicholas Skylark, my honey-throat,"
cried Carew, "sit thee down! Thou wait on
me-thou songster of the silver tongue ?
Nay, nay, sweetheart, the knave shall wait on
thee, or I '11 wait on thee myself- I will, upon
my word! Why, Nick, I tell thee I love thee,
and dost think I 'd let thee wait or walk nay,
nay, thou 'It ride to-morrow like a king, and
have all Stratford wait for thee!" At this he
chuckled so that he almost choked upon a
mouthful of bread and meat.
"Canst ride, Nicholas ?"
"Fairly, sir."
"Fairly? Fie, modesty! I warrant thou
canst ride like a very centaur. What sayest-
I '11 ride a ten-mile race with thee to-morrow
as we go ? "
"Why," cried Nick, are ye going back to
Stratford to play, after all ?"
"To Stratford? Nay; not for a bushel of
good gold Harry shovel-boards! Bah! That
town is ratsbane and nightshade in my mouth!
Nay, we '11 not go back to Stratford town; but
we shall ride a piece with thee, Nicholas,- we
shall ride a piece with thee."
Chuckling again to himself, he fell to upon
the pasty and said no more.
Nick held his peace, as he was taught to do
unless first spoken to; but he could not help
thinking that stage-players, and master-players
in particular, were very queer folk.



NIGHT came down on Stratford town that
last sweet April day, and the pastured kine
came lowing home. Supper-time passed, and
the cool stars came twinkling out; but still
Nick Attwood did not come.
He hath stayed to sleep with Robin, Mas-



I ,


~- -;


ter Burgess Getley's son," said Mistress Att- He should ha' telled thee on it, then," said
wood, standing in the door, and staring out Simon Attwood. "This be no way to do.
into the dusk; "he is often lonely here." I 've a mind to put him to a trade."


:j r


Nay, Simon," protested -his wife; "he may
be careless--he is young yet--but Nicholas
is a good lad. Let him have his schooling
out-he '11 be the better for it."


"Then let him show it as he goes along,"
said Attwood, grimly, as he blew the candle
But May-day dawned; mid-morning came,
mid-afternoon, then supper-time again; and
supper-time crept into dusk-and still no Nich-"
olas Attwood.
His mother grew uneasy; but his father only
growled: "We 'll reckon up when he cometh
home. Master Brunswood tells me he was na
at the school the whole day yesterday-and
he be feared to show his face. I '11 fear him
with a bit of birch! "
Do na be too hard with the lad, Simon,"

pleaded Mistress Attwood. "Who knows what
hath happened to him? He must be hurt, or
he 'd 'a' come home to his mother "- and she
began to wring her hands. "He may ha' fallen
from a tree, and lieth
all alone out on the
hill--or, Simon, the
Avon! Thou dost na
think our lad be
drowned? "
"Fudge! said Si-
mon Attwood. "Born
to hang '11 never
drown! "
When, however, the
S next day crept around
and still his son did
not come home, a
doubt stole into the
tanner's own heart.
Yet when his wife was
for starting out to seek
some tidings of the
boy, he stopped her
"Nay, Margaret,"
said he; "thou shalt
na go traipsing around
'--- the town like a hen wi'
but one chick. I wull
na ha' thee made a
laughing-stock by all
the fools in Stratford."
But as the third day
THE SCORE?" rolled around, about
the middle of the after-
noon the tanner himself sneaked out at the back
door of his tannery in Southam's lane, and-went
up into the town.
"Robin Getley," he asked at the guild-
school door, was my son wi' thee overnight ?"
"Nay, Master Attwood. Has he not come
back ?"
'"Come back? From where?"
Robin hung his head.
"From where?" demanded the tanner.
"Come, boy!"
From Coventry," said Robin, knowing that
the truth would out at last, anyway.
"He went to see the players, sir," spoke

up Hal Saddler briskly, not heeding Robin's "Where be he, then?" demanded Attwood,
stealthy kick. He said he'd bide wi' Diccon with a sudden sinking at heart in spite of his
Haggard overnight; an' he said he wished he wrath.
were a master-player himself, sir, too." "How should I know ? A went away wi' a
Simon Attwood, frowning blackly, hurried play-actoring fellow in a plum-colored cloak;
on. It was Nick, then, whom he had seen and play-actoring fellow said a loved him like
crossing the market-square, a's own, and patted a's back, and flung me hard
Wat Raven, who swept Clopton bridge, had names, like stones at a lost dawg. Now le'
seen two boys go up the Warwick road. One me go, Muster Attwood cross my heart, 't is
were thy Nick, Muster Attwood," said he, all I know!"
thumping the dirt from his broom across the Is 't Nicholas ye seek, Master Attwood ?"
coping-stone; "and the other were Dawson's asked Tom Carpenter, turning from his fleurs-
Hodge." de-lis. "Why, sir, he 's gotie got famous, sir.
The angry tanner turned again into the mar- I was in Coventry mysel' May-day; and-why,
ket-place. His brows were knit, and his eyes sir, Nick was all the talk! He sang there at
were hot, yet his step
was heavy and slow.
Above all things, he
hated disobedience,
yet in his surly way
he loved his only
son;. and far worse
than disobedience, he
hated that his son
should disobey.
Astride a beam
in front of Master
Thompson's house
sat Roger Dawson.
Simon Attwood took
him by the collar
none too gently. I"
"Here, leave be!" r
choked Roger, wrig-
gling hard; but the
tanner's grip was like
iron. Wert thou
in Coventry May- -.
day ? 1' he asked
sternly. -
"Nay, that I .
was na," sputtered -
Hodge. "A plague
"Do na lie to
me -thou wert there wi' my son Nicholas." the Blue Boar inn-yard with the Lord High
I was na," snarled Hodge, angered by the Admiral's players, and took a part in the play;
accusation. "Nick Attwood threshed me in and, sir, ye 'd scarce believe me, but the peo-
the Warrick road; an' I be no dawg to follow ple went just daft to hear him sing, sir."
at the heels o' folks as threshes me." Simon Attwood heard no more. He walked





down High street in a daze. With hard-men
bitter blows strike doubly deep. He stopped
before the guildhall school. The clock struck
five; each iron clang seemed beating upon his
heart. He raised his hand as if to shut the
clangor out, and then his face grew stern and
hard. He hath gone his own wilful way," said
he bitterly. "Let him follow it to the end."
SMistress Attwood came to meet him, running
.in the garden-path. "Nicholas?" was all that
she could say. "Never speak to me of him

again,", he said, and passed her by into the
house. "He hath gone away with a pack of
stage-playing rascals and vagabonds, whither
no man knoweth."
Taking the heavy Bible down from the shelf,
he lit a rushlight at the fire, although it was
still broad daylight, and sat there with the
great book open in his lap until the sun went
down and the chill night wind crept in along
the floor, yet he could not read a single word
and never turned a page.

(To be continued.)

~ 'RUN down to the store,
Susie dear, and get me two dozen
clothes-pins, please," said Mrs. Wynn, one morn-
ing. Go just as quickly as you can. I am
in a great hurry."
Susie put down her doll, and rose rather
"Oh, dear! she said to herself. "I wish I
did n't have to go! It's so far, and Dorothea
needs her new dress this very afternoon! "
But just then she caught sight of Lou Ar-
nold going by. Lou lived near the store.
Susie seized her hat, and rushed out of the door.
Lou, w-a-i-t! she screamed; and in a few
moments the two little girls were hurrying along
together, chattering like a pair of magpies.
The way did n't seem at all long; but.when
Susie had bidden Lou good-by and stepped
into the store, and Mr. Carr inquired what she
wanted, she did n't know.
It was some sort of pins," she said; "but I
don't think it was just the common kind. They
had a first name, I 'm sure."
"Hair-pins ?" suggested Mr. Carr.
"Oh, yes; I guess it was. No; I .don't
believe it was hair-pins, either."

Clothes-pins ?" was Mr. Carr's next inquiry.
"Let me see. Maybe that was what mama
said. I don't quite think it was, though."
"Can't you remember whether she' said a
box, or a paper, or so many dozen?" he
"No; I can't remember anything but just
fins," she replied, mournfully.
"Well, then, I 'm afraid you will have to
go home and find out what is wanted, won't
you?" said Mr. Carr.
"I s'pose so," sighed the little girl; "but
mama is in a norful hurry. I think prob'ly
she '11 scold. She says I 'm dre'ful careless."
Mr. Carr thought a minute. He and Susie
were great friends, and he did n't wish her
to be scolded -even if she was rather careless.
He was sorry to have Mrs. Wynn annoyed by
the delay, too; so, as Susie started dejectedly
for the door, he called her back.
"Wait," he said; "we '11 try to manage this
He put some clothes-pins into a bag, then
he took a paper of common pins, and one of
safety-pins, two hat-pins, and a box of hair-
pins, and wrapped them up.

. UAN.


Then he wrote a little note, which ran:

MY DEAR MRS. WYNN: Susie says you are "in a nor-
ful hurry" for some kind of pins, but she has forgotten
just what kind; so, to save time, I send you a variety to
choose from, hoping the right sort may be among them.
I do not have ten-pins or linch-pins, and will not send
a breast-pin or rolling-pin, as Susie is sure of just one
thing, and that is that you said "pins."
Yours very respectfully, J. F. CARR.

"And here, miss," he said, severely, "take
this to help your memory "; and he handed
her a stick of candy.

Susie's face beamed with joy and she thanked
him heartily as she ran off with her parcels.
"What in the world-! exclaimed Mrs.
Wynn when she unrolled the paper.
Here 's a letter that tells about it," said
Susie hastily, handing her mother the note.
Mrs. Wynn laughed as she read it, at which
the little girl looked greatly
I '11 remember next time,
mama," she said, nodding her
head wisely; "truly I will."



YBARRA DE ESCOBEDA had never seen any
snow before. In the sunny land where she was
born, the roses bloomed their sweetest in mid-
winter, and the nearest approach to a snow-
bank had been the hedge of great, white callas
in the back-yard. Therefore when she saw
myriads of downy flakes fluttering from the
sky in the new, strange land which she now
called home, her wonder and delight knew
no bounds.
Oh, mama," she cried, running to the win-
dow, "I want to get some 1" But her mama
only shook her head, and said it was too cold
to go outdoors.
The little girl stood contentedly a long, long
time watching the fairy, winged things. She
did not notice when her mama left the room;
but, at last, turning to speak to her, found her-
self alone. Presently a thought struck her.
Yes, she would do it! Shebglanced around.
There was no one in sight.
Seizing her pail, which she had so often filled
with sand on the shores of the far-away Pacific,
she opened the door and ran out. Scurrying
across the yard to where a drift gleamed white
and cold in the morning sun, she scooped up a
bucketful of the shining crystals and hurried

back into the house. The journey was repeated
again and again.

Her dolls had all been dressed and redressed,
and the box of pretty bits of ribbons and laces,
which grandma had given her for the numerous
family, had been looked over again and again,
but still she was not happy. Her throat felt
queer,- and her heart, too, when she thought of
how she had disobeyed her mama- her good,
kind mama! Oh, why had she not waited?
After dinner, she crept softly upstairs. Her
mama stood in the south room, motionless,
her looks betokening the utmost amazement.
On the pretty, light carpet, all around, were
stains as of a recent flood; and from some
limp, dejected-looking pasteboard boxes on the
dresser drops of grayish water were oozing.
The little girl stood breathless for a moment;
then she ran across the room to a trunk which
stood in the corner. It was empty.
"Mama, mama! she cried in dismay, the
tears starting to her eyes as she gazed from the
empty trunk to the scene of desolation about
her. "It was to be a lovely birthday surprise
for Cousin Anita--and now it 's all gone!"
And little Dofia Sofia Laura Micaela Silva
de Peralta de la Cordoba de Sanchez 6 Ybarra
de Escobeda sobbed afresh.





[Begun in tie December number.]
THE Boy's earliest attempts at versification
were found, the other day, in an old desk, and
at the end of almost half a century. The copy
is in his own boyish, ill-spelled print; and it
bears no date. The present owner, his Aunt
Henrietta, well remembers the circumstances
and the occasion, however, having been an
active agent in the acts the poem describes,
although she avers that she had no hand in its
composition The original, it seems, was tran-
scribed by The Boy upon the cover of a soap-
box, which served as a headstone to one of the
Graves in his pets' burying-ground, situated in
the back-yard of the Hudson Street house, from
which he was taken before he was nine years
of age. The monument stood against the
fence, and this is the legend it bore--rhyme,
rhythm, meter, and orthography being carefully
Three little kitens of our old cat
Were berrid this day in this
They came to there deth in
an old water pale,
And after loosing their breth
They were pulled out by
the tale.
These three little kitins have
returned to their maker,
And were put in the grave by
The Boy,
AL about this period The Boy officiated at the
funeral of another cat, but in a somewhat more
exalted capacity. It was the Cranes' cat, at
Red Hook, a Maltese who always had yellow
kittens. The Boy does not remember the cause
of the cat's death, but he thinks that Uncle An-
drew Knox ran over her, with the "dyspepsia-
wagon,"- so called because it had no springs.
Anyway, the cat died, and had to be buried.

The grave was dug in the garden of the tavern,
near the swinging-gate to the stable, and the
whole family attended the services. Jane
Purdy, in a deep crape veil, was the chief
mourner, The Boy's aunts were pall-bearers, in
white scarves, The Boy was the clergyman,
while the kittens -who did not look at all
like the mother-were on hand in a funeral
basket, with black shoestrings tied around
their necks. The ceremony was most impres-
sive; the bereaved kittens were loud in their
grief; when, suddenly, the village bell tolled
for the death of an old gentleman whom every-
body loved, and the comedy became a tragedy.
The older children were conscience-stricken at
the mummery, and they ran, demoralized and
shocked, into the house, leaving The Boy and
the'kittens behind them. Jane Purdy tripped
over her veil, and one of the kittens was step-
ped on in the crush. But The Boy proceeded
with the funeral.
Among the many bumps which are still con-
spicuously absent in The Boy's phrenological
development are the bumps of Music and Lo-
cality. He whistled as soon as he acquired
front teeth; and he has been singing "God
Save the Queen" at the St. Andrew's Society
dinners, on November the 3oth, ever since he
came of age. But that is as far as his sense
of harmony goes. He took music-lessons for
three quarters, and then his mother gave it up
in despair. The instrument was a piano. The
Boy could not stretch an octave with his right
hand, the little finger of which had been
broken by a shfhny-stick; and he could not
do anything whatever with his left hand.
He was constantly dropping his bass-notes,
which; he said, were understood." And even
Miss Ferguson-most patient of teachers -
declared that it was of no use.
The piano to The Boy has been the most of-
fensive of instruments ever since. And when


his mother's old piano, graceful in form, and
with curved legs that are still greatly admired,
lost its tone, and
Swas transform-
ed into a
SI idLt:.ard


4 .-
*i \: "k. .


he felt, for the first time, that music had
He had to practise half an hour a day, by a
thirty-minute sand-glass that could not be set
ahead; and he shed tears enough over "The
Carnival of Venice" to have raised the tide in
the Grand Canal. They blurred the sharps
and the flats on the music-books those tears;
they ran the crotchets and the quavers to-
gether, and, rolling down his cheeks, they
even splashed upon his not very clean little
Another serious trial to The Boy was danc-
ing-school. In the first place, he could not
turn round without becoming dizzy; in the sec-
ond place, he could not learn the steps to turn
round with; and in the third place, when he
did dance, he had to dance with a girl! There
was not a boy in all Charraud's, or in all Dod-
Sworth's, who could escort a girl back to her
VOL. XXIV.-28.

KNEW. 2 17

seat, after the dance was over, in better time,
or make his "thank-you bow with less delay.
His only voluntary terpsichorean effort at a
party was the march to supper; and the only
steps he ever took with anything like success
were during the promenade in the Lancers.
In "hands-all-round" he invariably started
with the wrong hand; and if in the set there
were girls big enough to wear long dresses, he
never failed to tear such out at the gathers.
If anybody fell down, it was always The Boy;
and if anybody bumped into anybody else, The
Boy was always the bumper, unless his partner
could hold him up and steer him straight.
Games, at parties, he enjoyed more than
dancing, although he did not care very much
for Pillows and Keys," until he became cour-
ageous enough to kneel before somebody be-
sides his maiden aunts. Porter" was less
embarrassing, because, when the door was shut,
nobody but the little girl who called him out
could tell whether he kissed her or not. All
this happened a long time ago!
The only social function in which The Boy
took any interest whatever was the making of
New Year's calls. Not that he cared to make
New Year's calls in them-
sel ce ILiti l,'- I tu e
he tiic-J n:it ,



more New Year's calls than were made by
any other boy. His "list," based upon last
year's list, was commenced about February i;
and it contained the names of every per-
son whom The Boy knew or thought he
knew, whether that person knew The Boy or
not, from Mrs. Penrice, who boarded opposite
the Bowling Green, to the Leggats and the
Faures, who lived near Washington Parade
Ground, the extreme social limit of his city in
those days. He usually began by making a for-
mal call upon his own mother, who allowed him
to taste the pickled oysters as early as ten in the
morning; and he invariably wound up by call-
ing upon Ann Hughes in the kitchen, where he
met the soap-,fat man, who was above his pro-
fession, and likewise the sexton of Ann Hughes's
church, who generally came with Billy, the bar-
ber on the corner of Franklin Street. There
were certain calls The Boy always made with
his father, during which he did not partake of
pickled oysters; but he had pickled oysters
everywhere else; and they never seemed to do
him any serious harm. The Boy, if possible,
kept his new overcoat until New Year's day -


and he never left it in the hall when he called!
He always wore new green kid gloves why
green ? fastened at the wrist with a single
hook and eye; and he never took off his kid
gloves when he called, except on that particu-
lar New Year's day when his Aunt Charlotte

gave him the bloodstone seal-ring, which, at
first, was too big for his little finger,-the only
finger on which a seal-ring could be worn,-and
had to be made temporarily smaller with a
piece of string.
When he received, the next New Year, new
studs and a scarf-pin,- all bloodstones, to
match the ring,- he exhibited no little ingenu-
ity of toilet in displaying them both, because
studs are hardly visible when one wears a scarf,
unless the scarf is kept out of the perpendicular
by stuffing one end of it into the sleeve of a
jacket, which requires constant attention and
a good deal of bodily contortion.
When The Boy met Johnny Robertson or
Joe Stuart making calls, they never recognized
each other, except when they were calling to-
gether, which did not often occur. It was an
important rule in their code to appear as stran-
gers indoors, although they would wait for
each other outside, and compare lists. When-
they did present themselves collectively in any
drawing-room, one boy-usually The Boy's
cousin Lew--was detailed to whisper "T. T. "
when he considered that the proper limit of
the call was reached. T. T." stood for "Time
to Travel"; and at the signal all conversation
was abruptly interrupted, and the party trooped
out in single file. The idea was not original
with the boys. It was borrowed from the
Hook and Ladder Company, which made all
its calls in a body, and in two of Kipp and
Brown's stages, hired for the entire day. The
boys always walked.
The very first time The Boy went out alone
he got lost! Told not to go off the block, he
walked as far as the corner of Leonard Street,
put his arm around the lamp-post, swung him-
self in a circle, had his head turned the wrong
way, and marched off, at a right angle, along
the side street, with no home visible anywhere,
and not a familiar sign in sight. A ship at sea
without a rudder, a solitary wanderer in the
Great American Desert without a compass,
could not have been more utterly astray. The
Boy was so demoralized that he forgot his name
and address; and when a kindly policeman
picked him up, and carried him over the way
to the Leonard Street station-house for iden-
tification, he felt as if the end of everything had



come. It was bad enough to be arrested, but
how was he to satisfy his own conscience, and
explain matters to his mother, when it was dis-
covered that he had broken his solemn promise,
and crossed the street! He had no pocket-hand-
kerchief; and he remembers that he spoiled
the long silk streamers of his Glengarry bonnet
by wiping his eyes upon them. He was recog-
nized by his Forty-second-plaid gingham frock,
a familiar object in the neighborhood, and he
was cared back to his parents, who had not
had time to miss him, and who, consequently,
were not distracted. He lost nothing by the
adventure but himself, his self-respect, a pint
of tears- and one shoe.
He was afterwards lost in Greenwich Street,
having gone there on the step of an ice-cart;
and once he was conveyed as far as the Hud-
son River Railroad Depot, at Chambers Street,
on his sled, which he had hitched to the milk-
map's wagon, and could not untie. This was
very serious indeed, for The Boy realized that he
had not only lost himself, but his sleigh too.
Aunt Henrietta found The Boy sitting discon-
solately in front of Wall's bake-shop; but the
sleigh did not turn up for several days. It was
finally discovered, badly scratched, in the pos-
session of The Head of the Rovers."
"The Hounds" and "The Rovers" were
rival bands of boys, not in The Boy's set, who
for many years made outdoor life miserable to
The Boy and his friends. They threw stones
and mud at each other, and at everybody else;
and The Boy was not infrequently blamed for
the windows they broke. They punched all
the little boys who were better dressed than
they were, and they were depraved enough and
mean enough to tell the driver every time The
Boy or Johnny Robertson attempted to cut
There was also a band of unattached guer-
rillas who aspired to be, and often pretended
to. be, either Hounds or Rovers "- they
did not care which. They always hunted in
couples, and if they met The Boy alone, they
asked him to which of the organizations he
himself belonged. If he said he was a Ro-
ver," they claimed to be Hounds," and
pounded him. If he declared himself in sym-
pathy with the Hounds," they hoisted the

" Rovers'" colors, and punched him again. If
he disclaimed both associations, they punched
him anyway, on general principles. "The Head
of the Rovers was subsequently killed, in front
of Tom Riley's liberty-pole in Franklin Street,
in a firemen's riot, and "The Chief of the
Hounds," who had a club-foot, became a re-
spectable egg-merchant, with a stand in Wash-
ington Market, near the Root-beer Woman's
place of business, on the south side. The Boy
met two of the gang near the Desbrosses Street
Ferry only the other day; but they did not
recognize The Boy.
The only spot where The Boy felt really safe
from the interference of these clans was in St.
John's Square, that delightful oasis in the desert
of brick and mortar and cobblestones which
was known as the Fifth Ward. It was a pri-
vate inclosure, bounded on the north by Laight
Street, on the south by Beach Street, on the
east by Varick Street, and on the west by Hud-
son Street; and its site is now occupied by the
great freight-warehouses of the New York Cen-
tral and Hudson River Railroad Company.
In the "fifties," and long before, it was a pri-
vate park, to which only the property-owners
in its immediate neighborhood had access. It
possessed fine old trees, winding gravel walks,
and meadows of grass. In the center was a
fountain, whereupon, in the proper season, the
children were allowed to skate on both feet,
which was a great improvement over the one-
foot gutter-slides outside. The park was sur-
rounded by a high iron railing, broken here
and there by massive gates; to which The Boy
had a key. But he always climbed over. It was
a point of etiquette, in The Boy's set, to climb
over on all occasions, whether the gates were
unlocked or not. And The Boy, many a time,
has been known to climb over a gate, although
it stood wide open! He not infrequently tore
his clothes on the sharp spikes by which the
gates were surmounted; but that made no
difference to The Boy until he went home!
The Boy once had a fight in the park, with
Bill Rice, about a certain lignum-vitae peg-top,
of which The Boy was very fond, and which Bill
Rice kicked into the fountain. The Boy got
mad, which was wrong and foolish of The Boy;
and The Boy, also, got licked. And The Boy



never could make his mother understand why
he was silly and careless enough to cut his un-
der lip by knocking it against Bill Rice's
knuckles. Bill subsequently apologized by say-
ing that he did not mean to kick the top into
the fountain. He merely meant to kick the
top. And it was all made up.
The Boy did not fight much. His nose was
too long. It seemed that he could not reach
the end of it with his fists when he fought;
and that the other fellows could always reach
it with theirs, no matter how far out or how

*t-t ....., .-,- y .., ,. --... -- -,
scientifically his left arm was extended. It was
"One, two, three-and recover"-on The
Boy's nose! The Boy was a good runner. His
legs were the only part of his anatomy which
seemed to him as long as his nose. And his
legs saved his nose in many a fierce encounter.
The Boy first had daily admission to St.
John's Park after the family moved to Hubert
Street, and The Boy was about ten years old;
and for half a decade or more it was his happy
hunting-ground -when he was not kept in
school! It was a particularly pleasant place in

the autumn and winter months; for he could
then gather smoking-beans and horse-chest-
nuts; and he could roam- at will all over the
grounds without any hateful warning to Keep
Off the Grass."
The old gardener, generally a savage de-
fender of the place, who had no sense of humor
as it was exhibited in boy nature, sometimes
let the boys rake the dead leaves into great
heaps and make bonfires of them, if the wind
happened to be in the right direction. And
then what larks! The bonfire was a house on
fire, and the
great garden-
roller, a very
heavy affair,
was Engine
SNo. 42," with
which the boys
.K. ran to put the
S% fire out. They
all shouted as
loudly and as
e.a .h as real firemen
did; the fore-
man gave his
orders through
S a real trumpet,
and one boy
had a real
fireman's hat
S with Engine
No. 42 on
it. He was
chief engineer,
but he did not
ARK. run with the
machine: not because he was chief engineer, but
because while in active motion he could not
keep his hat on. It was his father's hat, and its
extraordinary weight was considerably increased
by the wads of newspaper packed in the lining
to make it fit. The chief engineer held the
position for life, on the strength of the hat,
which he would not lend to anybody else.
The rest of the company were elected, viva
voce, every time there was a fire. This enter-
tainment came to an end, like everything else,
when the gardener chained the roller to the



tool-house, after Bob Stuart fell under the ma-
chine and was rolled so flat that he had to be

The Boy was put out once by a crack on the
ear, which put The Boy out very much.
"The Hounds" and "The Rovers" chal-
lenged The Columbias repeatedly. But that
was looked upon simply as an excuse to get into
the park, and the. challenges were never accepted.
The challengers were forced to content them--
selves with running off with the balls which
went over the fence: which made home runs
through that medium very unpopular and very
expensive. In the whole history of "The
Hounds and The Rovers nothing that they
pirated was ever returned but The Boy's sled.
Contemporary with the Columbia Base-ball
Club was the Phrenoskian Society, a "mind-
cultivating" association, organized by the un-
dergraduates of McElligott's School, in Greene
Street. The Boy, as usual, was secretary when
he was not treasurer. The object was de-
bates," but all the debating was done at the
business meetings, and no mind ever became

Slcarried sufficiently cultivated to master the intricacies
Sho:e on of parliamentary law. The members called
a lnercher it a Secret Society, and on their jackets they
n-imd- I ov:.':er- wore, as conspicuously as possible, a badge-
C; .aji rtid rge- pin consisting, of a
thLer bL ite di-eves. .. LlI na:r:nm led cir-
"THE BOY ALWAYS CLIMBED That, is the only re- ..^t onriining
corded instance in Greek .lters
which the boys, particularly Bob, left the park .. in gold. Ina
without climbing over. And the bells sounded .!. ei% -l'ort
a "general alarm." The dent made in the ;,e'- n the
path by Bob's body was on exhibition until ', badge
the next snow-storm.
The favorite amusements in the park were e '" '
shinny, base-ball, one-old-cat, and fires. The
Columbia Base-ball Club was organized in 1853 .- .
or 1854. It had nineteen members, and The
Boy was secretary and treasurer. The uniform
consisted chiefly of a black leather belt with
the initials C. B. B. C. in white letters, hand
painted, and generally turned the wrong way.
The first base was an ailantus tree; the sec-
ond base was another ailantus tree; the third
base was a buttonball tree; the home base was
a marble headstone, brought for that purpose was all that was left of the society; but to
from an old burying-ground not far away; and this day the secret of the society has never
"over the fence" was a home run. A player been ,disclosed. No one ever knew, or will
was caught out on the second bounce, and he ever know, what the Greek letters stood for-
was "out" if hit by a thrown ball as he ran. not even the members themselves.
(To be continued )




[Begun in Ite November number.1



THE next morning, when all June's manifold
duties in the house were over and done, she
raced out as usual into the garden. A patch
of color on the grass near the Allisons' side took
her eye, and she went to investigate. A group
of magnificent wild poppies lay straggling there,
just as if they had been flung from a height.
Good gracious! she's done it! ejaculated
June, clasping her hands tragically.
Guess again," said Roy, bobbing into sight
from behind the fence.
Did n't she ?"
"What did she do ?"
Took them rather ill-temperedly, and -"
And what? "
"And said that it was late in the day for me
to be troubling myself about anything for hex."
"And what did you say to that ? "
After boiling over, inwardly, I put on the
voice of a lamb, and said: You are perfectly
right, Sarah; I have been a brute, but I am
going to try to mend.' Then I closed her hand
over the flowers, and slipped out of the room."
Oh, you nice boy! "
"I rather think so myself," said Roy com-
placently, jumping into June's garden.
Come right in," said she, ironically.
"Thanks; I will."
"But what flowers are these ?"
"Those I brought for you. Want them ? "
Indeed I do," she said, vastly pleased, as
he gathered them up and handed them to her.
How 's sister Leila, sister June ? "
Leila oh, Leila shrieked June, like a
musical calliope.
Do you want me ? asked the owner of the

name, appearing at the distant door, with the
inevitable book in her hand.
"Come and see what I 've found," urged
June. Thus invited, Leila came out and joined
the group, sitting down on the grass with a hope
of being able to go on with her story when
direct attention was not required.
"What have you found? asked she.
"A brother! A beauty /" breathed June,
with fervor.
That beauty, serenely enjoying the friendli-
ness of the two girls, filled his hands with small
pebbles, and began to flick them at the aston-
ished Misfit, who sought for the perpetrator of
the outrage in the gentle sky above her.
"Stop that! commanded Misfit's mistress.
"My intentions are very kind. It does not
hurt her."
"You can't tell whether it does or not."
June insisted. Besides, it's a brutal instinct.
And, anyway, you might pelt her with some-
thing soft."
Can't aim straight with a soft missile,"
argued Roy. Moreover, it 's not a brutal
instinct at all. It 's just the sportsman's in-
stinct, to see if I can hit what I aim at."
"In that case," declared June, with decision,
"you can aim at something without any feel-
ings; and when you must bestow your attention
upon Misfit, do it with these "- and she stuffed
into his hand a number of white daisies.
"Right you are said Roy, accepting the
weapons. "I will adopt your advice; but if
once in a while I were to waft a daisy at that
oak, and hurl a rock at Misfit, you must prom-
ise to overlook it."
I will not," said June, firmly.
Then they all burst out laughing, and with
the sound of the lazy hilarity Sarah appeared.
She limped down to the fence, and stood lean-
ing upon her crutch, looking over at them.
You all seem so happy," she said fretfully.


She wore a wild poppy in her dress, to June's
intense delight.
"It 's such a nice morning!" said Leila,
squirming amiably in the warm sunshine.
"I 'm coming to the fence to talk to you,"
said June, scrambling to her feet. "And I
have a secret to tell you."
Let 's go hear," suggested Roy to Leila.
"Let 's do nothing of the kind," commanded
June. "Leila, you tell him about Mrs. Ant-
arctic while I tell Sarah my secret."
"You are always laughing and bright and
active," murmured Sarah, as June approached.
"How do you manage to keep so happy?
Have n't you any troubles ? "
"Lots of them," exclaimed June; "but I
have an idea that unhappiness is very much of
a disease, and must be treated like one."
I don't understand what you mean."
-" Well, I '11 tell you," beamed June, resting
on the fence, and fanning her flushed face. with
a calla-lily leaf; "every time I am near getting
unhappy or in a bad temper (which is what
unhappiness generally is), I take a dose of
medicine for it- not out of a bottle. Now,
if I have been working very tiresomely, and
feel my angry passions bid fair to rise, I grab
a hat, and take a long, long walk by myself,
and come back angelic! Or, if I have been
lazy, and envies and jealousies have crept into
my mind and threaten to come out in my
speech, why, I get madly to work upon some-
thing that tires me so that I become as mild
as a lamb."
But suppose that you could not move about
briskly, like me," faltered Sarah.
That brings me to my secret," cried June,
dropping rake and leaf, and leaning both arms
upon the fence. '-It is not a secret exactly;
it is something I have been thinking about
"About me? "
It began this way: I kept wondering what
you did with your time."
"Nothing," said the lame girl, bitterly.
"What is there that one like me can do ?"
"You never seemed to sew "
"All our things are bought," interposed
Sarah. We are rich, so far as money goes."
Nor read-" pursued June.

Reading makes me unhappier than ever."
Nor play the piano -"
It tires me to sit on the piano-stool."
"And in my fancy I keep seeing you lonely,
miserable, unhappy -"
Sarah bent her head in assent, and tears gath-
ered in her eyes.
I could fancy you thinking that your -
your -misfortune unfitted you for society, that
you were not wanted by others-"
"Yes, I have thought all this! said Sarah,
with her hands before her face.
"And I wondered," said June, reaching
across the fence and taking the bent head in
her trembling arms -" I wondered if you could
not, perhaps, put your lonely sweet thoughts,
and your brighter fancies, and your sad dreams,

into writing, that other people might be made
better by them, and more patient. Why should
you not be a writer? Do you ever write things ?"



"I do," whispered Sarah.
Then why not throw away all the bitter
ones and give the nice ones to the world ?"
"Write poetry? -stories? "
Write whatever comes into your heart."
"I could try," said Sarah. "But if I said
anything about it, people would laugh at me."
"Then don't say anything," was June's
prompt response. "We can keep it as a secret
- our secret. You do the writing, and I '11 do
the managing; and it will be time enough to
tell people if we bump up against success."

From your language they will probably be
wildly romantic."
She suggests that you climb a ladder and
get to the fire-escape, whence you can reach
the roof and work your way down; I suggest
that you enter a coal-sack and get carted into
their cellar, whence you can work your way
up. Neither of us will be jealous if you adopt
the plan of the other."
Why not ring at the front door, and enter
like a sane person ? said June, after consider-
ing the matter thoughtfully.


You have given me something nice to think
of," said Sarah, gazing into the depths of her
many musings. I will not be lonely any
more. I am going right away to to -"
"Write! finished June, briskly. "Luck go
with you! "
A smile lit up Sarah's face, and the worried
wrinkles and frown had crept away. She went
slowly into the house.
"June!" called Roy. "Leila and I have
been inventing plans by which you might effect
an entrance into yon inhospitable mansion."

Because you won't be let in," said Roy,
quietly, but with an air of conviction.
I might try," said June, wandering toward
the gate.
"Is she really going ? asked Roy of Leila.
"You can never tell what June is going to
do," answered that wise sister.
They watched breathlessly. June went out
of the gate. She walked to the Rouncewells'
gate. She entered the Rouncewells' garden.
She went up the front steps, smiling at her au-
dience. She rang the bell. The door wa


opened. Then there was a short conference;
she stepped inside, and the door shut upon her.
She 's in gasped Leila, in amazement.
Well, I never ejaculated Roy. "I hope
she comes out alive "

WHAT happened was this: The door was
opened by a prim parlor-maid who asked June
her business.
"Is Mrs. Rouncewell in ?"
"Young Mrs. Rouncewell ? No, Miss; she
is out."
So much the better," thought the visitor, as
she said, aloud:
"It is the old lady I would like to see."
"Oh, yes; and may I ask, miss, if you be
from next door ? "
"Yes," answered June, conquering an incli-
nation to reply, "I be."
Oh, in that case Mrs. Rouncewell is expect-
ing of you. She said if you was to come, you
was to be admitted immediate, and asked to
come upstairs."
So June entered, feeling that if bad grammar
were catching, her case would be hopeless.
The parlor-maid led the way, and June fol-
lowed. The house was magnificent, with palms
and porti&res, and statues, and thick carpets,
and faint perfumes, and gloom, and grandeur.
They glided up one winding staircase after
another. The old lady evidently lived at the
top of the house. June thought of Leila's plan
of the roof and the fire-escape, and felt a hys-
terical inclination to laugh. As they neared
the top story the faint strains of an organ stole
upon the air with weird effect.
"I feel like the fifth act of a play," thought
June, uneasily.
"This is the room, miss," said the maid, and
vanished noiselessly.
The door was partly open, and June crept in,
afraid to knock for fear of stopping the music.
The room was all in shadow, like a cathedral,
for the windows were so high up, and so long
and narrow, lying under the eaves, that the sun
could not creep in, but rather threw in the dark
silhouette of the roof. Still the room was not
VOL. XXIV.-29.

dismal. It seemed to belong to the faint past,
and the half-light dealt very tenderly with the
quaint furniture, and faded pictures, and old-
fashioned ornaments, and all the outgrown relics
of a forgotten day. Grandma Bell herself, sweet
though she looked, was dressed in a fashion of
long ago, and her hair was banded across her
ears as in an old picture. She, too, looked like
a shadow, and the music she played without
any notes was an echo from a shadowed past.
Even the organ had a strangely unfamiliar tone,
as if it spoke from out a sweet and solemn dis-
tance. Finally the strain came to its tender
finish, dying away like a sigh, or like a haunting
question, which lingered in the memory until it
was hard to tell when the sound really stopped.
Then June moved forward.
"Who is it?" asked Grandma Bell softly,
as if perhaps she spoke to some unreal shape
of her fancy.
"It is June."
"Oh, I am so glad--so very glad! It is
so lonely here."
Lonely when you can make such beauti-
ful music? "
"Beautiful? Do you like my music ? It
has been a long while since any one said that
to me. It is pleasant to hear you say it. I
used to sing once; but I cannot any more.
Still I would like to hear singing very much.
You sing, perhaps, my dear?"
"A little," said June, dubiously.
I wish you would sing for me. Do you play
the organ ?"
"No, m'a'am; I play the piano, and I run
the sewing-machine, and so I am in the habit
of only using one set of limbs at a time; when
I try the organ I can't keep all my arms and
legs going at once."
I will play for you, then, while you sing."
"Thank you, ma'am; what would you like
me to sing? "
"Do you know 'The Meeting of the Wa-
ters ?"
"No, I am sorry to say I don't," replied June.
"Or Wapping Old Stairs' ?"
"Whopping Old What? asked the puzzled
I am very stupid," smiled Grandma Bell,
" to expect you to know any of those old-



fashioned airs. If you don't know the songs
to my accompaniments, and I don't know the
accompaniments to your songs, what are we to
do for our concert ? "
How about hymns ? asked June. They
are neither old nor new fashioned."
A very sweet idea! Do you know this ?"
and the old lady began upon Old Hundred."
Oh, yes!" said June; and she sang with a
will. Then "Greenland's Icy Mountains "
and "Sweet the Moments" and "Watchman,
Tell Us of the Night," and a score of others,
until June felt quite like a prima donna, and
Grandma Bell was flushed pink with the plea-
sure of playing for some one, and of hearing
a fresh young voice echoing around her shad-
.owy room.
"That has done me a world of good," said
the happy organist.
"And me too," declared June, throwing her-
self in a chair and looking radiantly round.
"Just peep out of the window over your
head. Stand upon the chest."
June did so, and uttered a cry of delight.
She was gazing down, down into her own gar-
den, where Leila sat reading, looking as little
as if June were viewing her through the small
end of an opera-glass.
I never saw our roof before," she an-
nounced. "My! does n't our house appear
tiny compared with the two big ones along-
side it! Just like a puppy-dog between two
elephants. I can hear Misfit yowling. Wicked
little creature! she. is trying to get a dove.
But she need n't deceive herself with the be-
lief that she will succeed. I can hardly tear
myself away." She jumped down, blinking.
Don't sit on the chest, dear; it is the one
we are going to open, and in which you are
going to poke.' "
"Oh, is n't that lovely! exclaimed June,
snuggling, down on the floor in anticipative
rapture. When the box was opened a faint
odor stole out, like a magic powder, which car-
ried the mind back for years and years; not
exactly the smell of lavender, but the unfamil-
iar ghost of lavender clinging to the meshes of
old lace.
"Peppermint, too," said June, sniffing. The
peppermint proved to be in a black satin bag

which hung on the back of Grandma Bell's
rocking-chair, and June got some peppermint
drops as a reward for her extraordinary powers
of penetration.
Lying on the top tray of the chest were a
pair of baby slippers, a curl of yellow hair, and
a tiny tucked dress. Grandma Bell took them
lovingly in her hands.
My baby's," she murmured.
"The little child who died?" was June's
tender question.
"Oh, no; my boy's- Mr. Rouncewell's,"
was the reply.
Good gracious !" June called the pom-
pous man to memory, and imagined him petri-
fied with astonishment if she told him she had
seen his baby slippers.
"He was learning to walk when he wore
these; many 's the time I have held his little
hand and guided his unsteady feet. But I did
not mind the trouble; I thought that his hand
would bear me up, perhaps, when I was feeble
and needed help. But it seems as if old people
were in everybody's way. We linger when we
are not wanted. We outlive love, as we out-
live strength; for our children do not remember
the time when they, too, were a trouble and
helpless, and in the way."
She put back the tiny articles with care,
kissing them for the sake of the child that used
to be, kissing them in spite of the man that
was. June dived among the things, more to
hide her feelings of disapproval of the man
who was so careful of his flowers, than from any
motive of curiosity. But she came upon a
treasure. It was a turquoise bracelet in the
form of a snake.
"Oh, how heavenly!" cried June, slipping
it over her wrist, and getting the effect of differ-
ent lights upon it.
It is rather odd you should have happened
upon that," said Grandma Bell; "for all along
I intended it for you. Keep it on."
You don't mean to say you give it to me! "
said June.
"Yes, dear; you may have it for your own."
June burst into a rapture of thanks, and then
grew oddly preoccupied. She turned the jew-
els over and over, and kept silence. Finally
she drew off the bracelet and put it back in the



trunk. Then she turned a glowing face to her
generous:hostess, and explained her action.
"Please don't feel offended," she said eagerly,
"but really I can't take the lovely thing, and
I 'll tell you why."
"Why, dear ?"
"Because I want to go into ecstasies over
the things I see, and if I think that you may
give me some of them, it will take away all the
fun. For I would like to be able to say, Oh,
how I would like to have that! '- feeling all the
time that you knew I was n't hinting. Do you
see ?"
"Yes, dear, I see; and it shall be as you
"' Then on we goes again,'" quoted June,
"Try on this dress," said Grandma Bell,
taking out a fairy costume of pink crape trimmed
with wild roses. The roses were flatter than
nature's, but their color was exquisite, and the
robe -suited June to a charm.
I wore it at a fancy-dress ball. Let your

hair down, dear; that's it; And here are the
flowers to carry in your hands. Now go down-
stairs and have a look at yourself in the big
glass in the parlor."
Nothing loath, June sped downstairs, and
breathlessly entered the drawing-room.. As she
danced in, she all but bumped into the portly
frame of the owner of the house.
Heaven bless my soul!--what 's this?"
he demanded.
I 'm June," stammered that unfortunate
damsel, turning as pink as her finery, and drop-
ping her roses.
You look it! he said, with a merry laugh;
and June, swooping up her fallen tributes, sped
upstairs like the wind.
When she reached the attic room again, her
ear was assailed with a startling sound, far off,
but piercing.
"What 's that?" she asked, turning pale.
The sound came again. It was Leila's
voice; and she had given two frightened, ter-
rible screams.

(To be continued.)



THE jay is a jovial bird--Heigh-ho!
He chatters all day
In a frolicsome way
With the murmuring breezes that blow,- Heigh-ho!

Hear him noisily call
From the red-wood tree tall
To his mate in the opposite tree, Heigh-ho!
Saying: "How do you do?"
As his topknot of blue
Is raised as polite as can be--Heigh-ho!

Oh, impudent jay,
With your plumage so gay,
And your manners so jaunty and free,--Heigh-ho!
How little you guessed,
When you robbed the wren's nest,
That any stray fellow would see! Heigh-ho!





LONG, long ago, in the barbarous days of
the dark ages, there lived in the small Italian
village Bertaguona the ugliest little dwarf you
can possibly imagine.
His name was Bertholde, and he is described
as having a large head, round as a football,
eye-brows resembling bristles, while his eyes
beneath them glowed like two torches. His
hair was as red as carrots, his nose was flat.
He had a wide mouth, and a short neck-in
fact, it would be almost impossible to fancy
the hideousness of this small but clever little
His parents had a large family, and very few
of this world's goods. There were so many
children to be .clothed and fed that scarcely
any attention was paid to their education. In-
deed, in those days learning was so little
thought of that it did not count for much,
and Bertholde's sound judgment, ready wit,
and clever speeches amply made up for his
rough exterior and lack of culture and refine-
ment. Next to the priest he was the most
popular man in the village. On festival days
and Sundays the peasants for miles around
would flock into Bertaguona to listen to the
witty sallies, pithy remarks, and entertaining
stories of this truly remarkable dwarf.
He became such a favorite that when he
spoke of going out into the world to seek his

fortune, his neighbors offered to contribute to
his support in order to keep him amongst them.
Bertholde, however, did not choose to be a
burden upon his friends, and he. persisted in
his resolve to make a living elsewhere.
It took him some time to decide which way
to go on this his first journey into the great
wide world, so full of strife and adversity.
Across the lofty Alps in the Frankish do-
minions the wicked and cruel Fr6d6gonde and
the Merovingian kings were committing all
kinds of atrocities, and our little friend wisely
concluded to turn his steps toward the more
peaceful Verona, where Alboin, King of the
Lombards, had recently set up his court.
Some four years previous, this mighty chief
with a huge mixed army had swept down from
Germany into Italy, had conquered the latter
country and established his kingdom there; and
one fine day in the year of our Lord 572, the
small traveler found himself before the splendid
palace of this first of the Lombard kings. Ber-
tholde stood for a time lost in wonder at the
beauty of the building, the like of which he had
never seen, and then he resolved to pay a visit
to the proprietor of the wonderful mansion.
In those days the gates of the palaces were
not defended by soldiers and guards. The
people came and went as they pleased, and
were free to lay their complaints and troubles
before the throne.
Bertholde had always considered and be-


lived that all men were born free and equal;
and he never dreamed there was a person on
earth with whom he might not converse quite
freely. He, therefore, fearlessly approached the
royal residence, ascended the broad stairs, trav-
ersed several lofty apartments, and astonished
the court by suddenly appearing in the great
hall where sat the king in all his glory. With-
out removing his shabby hat, the dwarf marched
up to the throne, and, saying never a word,
took possession of an empty chair by the side
of his august sovereign.
The courtiers were as much surprised at his
audacity as they were
amazed at his- gro-
tesque appearance; but
the Lombard chieftain
smiled grimly upon the
intruder, and inquired
of him what he was,
when he was born, and *
in what country ?"
"I am a man," re-
plied the dwarf, where-
upon the attendants
went off into fits of
laughter. "I was born
when I came into the
world, and the world
itself is my country."
King and courtiers
now began to realize
that they had a shrewd
little imp before them,
and they commenced
to ply him with ques-
tions of all kinds. The
asking of conundrums
was a sort of trial of
wit to which sovereigns
were much given at
this period of history.
"What thing is that
which flies the swift-
est?" asked one.
" Thought," replied "'I FIND, AS I SUSPECTED,'
Bertholde promptly.
"What is the gulf that is never filled ?"
"The avarice of the miser," was the ready
answer of the quick-witted dwarf.

"What trait is the most hateful in young
people ? "
Self-conceit, because it makes them un-
"How will you catch a hare running? "
inquired the king.
I '11 stay till I find her on the spit."
"How would you bring water in a sieve ?"
"I 'd wait till it was frozen," answered the
dwarf, readily.
The king was delighted. "For so clever a
rejoinder," he said, "you shall have from me
anything you may desire."


Oh, no !" cried Bertholde, with a mocking
laugh. "I shall have nothing of the sort.
You cannot give me what you do not possess.


I am in search of happiness, of which you have
not a particle. So how can you give me any ? "
"How! exclaimed the king. "Am I not
happy on so elevated a throne ? "
"Yes, you are, if the happiness of a man
consists in the height of his seat."
Then Alboin referred to his kingly power and
dignity, and the dwarf retorted with another
mocking laugh; and when the king called at-
tention to the nobles and courtiers about him,
Bertholde with a sneer remarked: "Oh, yes,
they cluster round your throne; so do hungry
ants round a crab-apple, and with the same-
purpose to devoui it."
"Well said," spake the king, keeping his
temper; but all this does not prevent me from
shining among them, as the sun among the stars."
"True, but tell me, shining Sun, how many
eclipses you are obliged to suffer in a year?
For the continual flattering of these men must
now and then darken your understanding."
For this reason you would not be a cour-
tier ? inquired his Majesty, whose fingers began
to play upon his sword in a threatening manner.
"Miserable as I am, I should be sorry to
be placed in the rank of slaves," replied the
dwarf. "Besides, I have not the necessary
qualities to succeed in this fine employment."
"What then do you seek at my court?"
asked the king in an angry tone.
Something I have not been able to find
there," answered Bertholde. I was told that
a king was as much above common men as a
tower is above common houses; I find, as I
suspected, that sovereigns are honored more
than they deserve."
This was a little too much. The king lost
his patience, and commanded the dwarf jester
to leave the palace immediately or he would
have him whipped out of court.
Just as he was leaving the room, however,
two angry women entered, each anxious to lay
her grievance before the king.
The matter in dispute was a crystal mirror
which was claimed by both, but which had
been stolen by one from the other. I am sure
I do not know whether Alboin was a religious
king; but it is quite evident he knew the story
of the famous decision of Solomon, and meant
to profit by it. He immediately ordered the

mirror to be broken into bits and to be equally
divided between the two. One of the women
said, It is a pity so beautiful a mirror should
be destroyed." Indeed, she was so quick to
express her opinion that I am inclined to believe
she, t6o, was acquainted with the judgment of
the wisest of kings. Alboin immediately com-
manded the mirror to be delivered to her, and
the entire court appeared to be delighted at
this wonderful exhibition of wisdom. Alboin
was so pleased with himself that he forgot his
displeasure with Bertholde, and looked for ap-
proval at the dwarf, -who had lingered to witness
the result of the quarrel.
The ugly little face betrayed no emotion
whatever, and Alboin was finally forced to ask
'the small man's opinion. "Am I not an ex-
ceedingly clever sovereign? he inquired.
"Your excellent mightiness can only be said
to be an ass," replied Bertholde, preparing to
make a hasty retreat. History does not say
whether Alboin considered this an answer to
his query or otherwise, but he had the dwarf
recalled, and 'Bertholde repaid him by soon
playing a very shrewd and bold trick upon the
court, as usual coming out victor.
From this time on the king began 'to take
pleasure in the society of his ugly little friend.
Bertholde showed such sound judgment that
Alboin was wont to consult him in all grave and
important affairs, and the poor misshapen peas-
ant became a regular attendant at court, and
was usually to be found at the king's side.
The queen, Rosamond, however, disliked him
thoroughly, and was jealous of his influence with
her husband, and the women-in-waiting hated
the sight of the little monster, as they called him.
Certain ladies of the court were eager to
take a more active part in the government;
and, being encouraged by the queen, at length
became bold enough to ask that some of them
should be made members of the king's council.
Alboin was annoyed by the request; for, as he
explained to Bertholde, in seeking the clever
little man's advice, the husbands of these am-
bitious women were the generals who coAl
manded his armies. To refuse, without good
reason, might even cause a revolution.
Bertholde devised a plan by which the king
escaped from the difficulty.



He bought a live bird in the market-place,
and, in the king's presence, imprisoned the lit-
tle captive in a rich casket. This casket, by
Bertholde's advice, the king delivered into the
keeping of the court ladies who wished to be
councilors, telling them that it was not to be
opened until the next day. "What it contains,"
said the king, "is a secret. If it should by any
means be let out, you would see that the best
interests of the kingdom required me to refuse
your request."
The women were greatly impressed by these
words; so greatly impressed that they at once
began to wonder what the secret could be, and
at last their curiosity became so great that the
one who had the box in her keeping thought
she would just look in for a minute -when,
whir! out came the bird, and away he flew
through the window.
The next day the fair petitioners did not
come to court to press their claim. For they
saw that the king had made them show them-
selves unable to keep a secret.
For this crafty ruse, Alboin commanded his
treasurer to give the dwarf a thousand crowns.
"I hope your majesty will not be displeased
if I refuse to accept your gifts," replied Ber-
tholde. He who desires nothing, and has
nothing, has nothing to fear. Nature made
me free, and I wish to remain so; but I cannot
if I accept your presents, for the proverb says
'He who takes, sells himself.' "
How then," asked the king, am I to show
my gratitude ?"
"I have heard that it is more glorious to
deserve the favors of a prince and to refuse
them, than it is to receive without deserving
them," was the answer. "Your good will is
more agreeable to me than all the gifts in the
While Alboin and his dwarf were thus talk-
ing there came a message from the angry
queen, who was determined to be revenged on
Bertholde for his mocking and too presump-
tuous pranks. The unfortunate little peasant
hAd to contrive many artifices to escape the
effect of her ill-will, for she too could invent
schemes, and had courtiers and soldiers ready
to obey her commands. The message was to
summon the dwarf to her presence, and she

had four large, ferocious dogs placed in the
court through which he had to pass. They
were fierce beasts, ready to attack any one,
but Bertholde, finding out what was in store
for him, managed to procure a pair of live
hares. These he threw to the dogs, and while
they pursued the prey the dwarf escaped, and
to the queen's surprise appeared before her,
with his usual sarcastic smile.
She finally appealed to the king, and he, in
order to keep the domestic peace and escape
her importunities, forgot all his fine promises,
and consented to have the poor little man
hanged to a tree.
The ready wit of the dwarf did not desert
him even in this extremity. He besought the
king to take care of the Bertholde family, and
to allow him the choice of the tree on which to
die. Alboin readily agreed to the request and
ordered a guard to accompany the executioner
to see that Bertholde made his own choice.
The trees of every wood for miles around were
carefully examined, but our wise little friend ob-
jected to all that were proposed. The execu-
tioner and the guards became so weary of the
fruitless search, that a message for relief was
sent to the king.
By this time another question of importance
had come before the throne, and the envoy
found the great chief lamenting the loss of his
able little counselor. Alboin was so delighted
when he heard that Bertholde was still alive
that he earnestly inquired the place of his re-
treat, and went in person to persuade him to
return to court. Back in triumph came the
dwarf amid the shouts of the populace. His
brusque humor and good sense had made him
popular with the people of Verona. He soon
became the king's confidential adviser, and fi-
nally was raised to the position of prime minister.
After the king's death, Bertholde lived on to
a good old age.
When he was seventy years old he made his
will, a document full of dry wit and sage max-
ims. He had always said he preferred being
poor in order that he might live in peace and
tranquillity. A few fine speeches constitute his
chief bequests to his two heirs, his wife Mar-
colfa and a son, who was under twenty-five
when the celebrated dwarf breathed his last.



ALMOST at the very center of the Atlantic
Oceafi only a trifle north of the equator and
about half-way between South America and Af-
rica is a submarine mountain, so high that, in
spite of the immense depth of the sea, it thrusts
its peak seventy feet above the waves. This
peak, startling from its position, forms a laby-
rinth of islets, the whole not over half a mile
in circumference, known as St. Paul's Rocks.
So steep is the mountain of which this lonely
resting-place of sea-birds is the summit, that one
mile from these rocks a five-hundred fathom
line with which soundings were attempted by
Ross on his voyage to the Antarctic failed to
touch bottom.
Were the bed of the sea to be suddenly ele-
vated to a level with the dry land, St. Paul's
Rocks would be the cloud-capped peak of a
mountain rising in sheer ascent in the midst of
a broad plain. They are supposed to have been
formed by the same disturbance of nature which
separated the Cape Verde Islands from Africa.
Treacherous currents make navigation in the
vicinity of these rocks dangerous. A Brazilian
naval officer, who passed them on an English
steamer, tells me that the' evening before they
expected to sight them he was told by the cap-
tain that at five o'clock in the morning they
would appear about five miles west. At that
hour the officer went on deck and looked to the
westward nothing but an expanse of heaving
sea. He chanced to turn, and there, five miles
to the eastward were-the Rocks. The cur-
rents had, in less than twelve hours, carried
a Tull-powered steamer ten miles out of her
You could count on your fingers the number
of human beings who are known to have visited
these rocks, but doubtless many a poor cast-
away has sought refuge there, only to be swept
by the first storm into the pitiless sea. This
mountain peak almost at the center of the At-
lantic has long been of great interest to scien-
tists. Darwin landed on the Rocks on his voy-

age around the world in the "Beagle." He
found much amusement in watching the crabs,
which were very numerous, dart out from the
crevices and steal the small fish which the nod-
dies or terns had caught and placed beside their
nests. He also says that the sharks and seamen
had a struggle over every fish which the latter
Ross's party remained long enough on the
rocks for McCormick, the surgeon and scientist
of the expedition, to make a map and sketch
of them. The sea set in among them with a
heavy swell, and the rebound of the surf made
the waters in the channels fairly seethe. The
terns and gannets hovering over the billows
were the first evidence the expedition had that
they were approaching these lonely islets; Then
two specks upon the horizon were sighted.
Gradually one was seen to be dark, the other
white,- the dark one being the higher. It was
found to be about seventy feet high, and the
white peak, on which the gannets had their
nests, sixty-one feet. Scant seaweed was the
only vegetation on the rocks. A wisp of this
and a feather or two were the few and simple
materials of which the birds built their nests.
He observed that while there were from two to
three eggs to a nest, there was not more than
one young bird to a pair, and concluded that
the crabs, which acted defiantly even toward
him, in spite of his rank in the British navy,
destroyed most of the eggs.
Sir W. Symonds, another scientist who visited
the rocks, relates that he saw the crabs attack
nests and capture young birds.
I know of but one man who has been ashore
here of recent years. He was an American sea
captain who, being becalmed off the Rocks,
made use of this opportunity to see them. He
found the birds, the crabs, and the swarming
sharks; and he found also -a human skele-
ton, the relic of an ocean tragedy, the fitting
companion of this desolate mountain peak ris-
ing out of the center of the Atlantic Ocean.



OVER the crust of the hard white snow
The little feet of the reindeer go
(Hush, hush, the winds are low),
And the fine little bells are ringing!
Nothing can reach thee of woe or harm--
Safe is the shelter of mother's arm
(Hush, hush, the wind 's a charm),
And mother's voice is singing.

Father is coming-he rides apace;
Fleet are the steeds with the winds that race
(Hush, hush, for a little space);
The snow to his mantle's clinging.

His flying steed with the wind 's abreast-
Here by the fire are warmth and rest
(Hush, hush, in your little nest),
And mother's voice is singing.

Over the crust of the snow, hard by,
The little feet of the reindeer fly
(Hush, hush, the wind is high),
And the fine little bells are ringing!
Nothing can reach us of woe or harm-
Safe is the shelter of father's arm
(Hush, hush, the wind 's a charm),
And mother's voice is singing.

VOL. XXIV.-3o.

: I



A Lgend of fLORENCE

"'':-- --- .
,, IT i,, as.


HEN Monte Morello is capped with
And the wind from the north comes
whistling down,
It is chill to rise with the morning-star,
In the "City of Flowers" in Flor-
ence town.

Light is the sleep of the old, for they know
How brief are their few remaining days;
But when hearts are young, sleep lingers long,
And too sweet to leave are the dream ways.
So, Tafi, the master, awoke with the light,
But the prentice lad, Buonamico, was young,
And his dreaming ears were loath to hear
The daybreak bell's awakening tongue.

For it seemed to speak with old Tafi's voice,
Colors to grind, and the shop to be swept!"
Then, out of his bed, on the bare stone floor,
Poor Buonamico, shivering, crept.
Busy all day with his quick young hands,-
Busy his thoughts with a project bold.
" The master will find," he said to himself,
"'T is not well to work in the dark and
the cold!"

But the master, unheeding the prentice lad,
Matched the mosaics fine and quaint;
Till his tablets of stone revealed the forms
Of Mother and Child, of cherub and saint.
Buonamico, meanwhile, forsook his tasks,
And, prying in crevice of wall or ground,
With a patience and skill boys only know,
Thirty great beetles the truant found.




As many wax tapers, then, he took -
Thirty small tapers (nor less, nor more),
And presto! each beetle, clumsy and slow,
On its broad black back a candle bore.
Next morning, ere dawn, when Tafi awoke,
Ere his lips could frame their usual call,
A sight he beheld that froze his veins-
An impish procession of tapers small!
Slowly they came, and slowly went
(And they seemed to pass through a crack
neathh the door):
So slowly they moved, he
counted them al.,
Thirty they numbered, !.i ,
less, nor more!
"Surely, some evil
these hands 11
have wrought,
That the powers
of darkness in-
vademycell!" 'J PI
And many an Ave I!
the master said,
To reverse and /
undo the un-
holy spell. .

When daylight was
come, Buon-
amico he told:
"A good lad ever
thou wert, and
Wise for thy years;
and, therefore,
speak out,
And, as best thou
canst, this mys-
tery read."

"Ay, that they are," said the master, "no
Said the prentice-boy, Their time is
And it may be they like not this wondrous
Which thou risest to do ere peep of light! "
"Well hast thou counseled," the master re-
"So young of years -so sage in thy thought;
I will rise no more ere the day hath dawned -
A work of light should in light be wrought!"

' I t

S t.._ ',, -- --- _


"May it not be," Buonamico said,
"The powers of darkness that good men hate,
Are vexed with my master, who falters not
In faithful service, early and late ? "

Thus runs the legend, which also saith
Spite of his pranks Buonamico became,
When the years were fled, and Tafi was gone,
A painter who rivaled his master's fame.



"Now, see here," said the Dragon, "are you
going to betray me ? "
"I I don't know," faltered Molly, clutch-
ing her dolly nervously. "I- I don't think
mama 'd like it if she knew you were here."
"That 's just the point," the Dragon an-
swered; "of course she would n't. No lady
would; and yet, what harm have I done or what
harm do I do? It's the only home I 've got."

"But it 's our garden," Molly said; "and
we like to walk in it."
"Well," answered the Dragon, "I don't
mind. You may walk in it all you please, and
I '11 never say a word. I 've been here a
month already, and nobody 's ever guessed it.
You would n't know it now, but that I told
you; and I would n't have told you only that I
hated to see you crying so hard about your doll



when I could give it back to you just as easy sure. I thought the dragons were all dead,
as not." too."
Yes," said Molly, "it was very good of I believe they are--all but me. And if it
you." She hugged
Arabella, her favorite
wax beauty, closer
to her heart. Oh,
Bella," she whispered,
"what an adventure
you've had! Tumb-
ling into the dried-up
well, and spending
all this time with a
dragon i Goodness,
child, I don't see
how you ever lived
through it! But it
was good of him to
give you back."
"You know," the ,
Dragon continued, ,
" if the Prince should A NEEDLESS ALARM.
find out my hiding-
place it would settle things pretty thoroughly had n't been for the old fairy Merenthusa I
for me. I 've almost forgotten how to fight. should n't be here either. It's a queer story--"
Anyhow, dragons never do beat the princes; he shook his head sadly.
you must know that,- if you know anything." Oh, tell it,"'cried Molly she was a little
But there is n't any prince," said Molly. girl who dearly loved to listen to stories.
"You don't say! "- the Dra-
gon raised himself high on his
bind legs and peered out at her-
"you don't say so !" His head
was thrust far out of the well
now, and Molly drew back in
terror. He was a very dread-
ful-looking beast; but there was
also something quite familiar
about his appearance. For a
moment this puzzled her; but
then she saw it was his likeness -
to a picture in her new fairy-
book that caused the feeling.
"Don't be afraid," he said,
when he saw her shrink away;
I won't hurt you. But do you C_ -
really mean to tell me that there -
is n't any prince at all? "
"Why, yes," Molly answered "'WE HAD A PRIVATE TUTOR, AND THAT WAS FUN, TOO."'
faintly; they all died long ago. At least, Now, see here," said the Dragon, "I 'll
there are n't any in this country, I 'm quite tell you the story, if you will promise not to



tell your folks about my being here. Come,
now is it a bargain ? "
Molly considered for a few moments.
I 'd love to hear the story," she said, "but
just think how dreadful it would be if mama or
papa were walking alone in the garden, and
you should snap off one of their feet."
"I would n't," the Dragon answered; I


never eat anybodybut just princesses. I say,
you are n't a princess, are you ? "
Oh, no! cried Molly, hastily, "indeed, I 'm
not. I 'm just a little girl- Molly Forster."
"I 'm glad of that," he assured her; "I

would n't like to eat you a bit, but it would
be my duty, you know, if you were a princess."
"Would it? How dreadful!" Molly's little
face grew quite white with horror.
You need n't think I 'd enjoy it," said the
Dragon, "for I never did one bit. I want to
whisper to you. It 's a terrible thing I have to
say, and I 'd rather not speak it aloud."
"There 's nobody
near," Molly object-
ed; "there is n't a
soul in the garden
but just you and me.
I-I 'd rather not
S put my ear down.
/' Can't you say it with-
out that?"
"Well, if I must,
I must," grumbled
the Dragon. "I did
not think you were
so suspicious; but no-
body trusts me. I'm
beginning to get used
to it; and yet all the
S time, you know, I've
got a tender heart."
He patted his chest
with his paw as he
spoke. "Yes; I've
,c fgot a tender heart."
I 'm very glad to
hear it," said Molly,
cheerfully. It 's a
nice thing to have."
-y r "Not for a dra-
.- gon, my dear," the
monster answered;
"you 're all off there.
S On the contrary, it 's
a drawback, a most
"' terrible drawback!"
"Why, I don't see
WOULD JUST MAKE ME CRY.' that," Molly cried.
"My mama says that
there is nothing so bad as a hard heart. You
can cure other things, you know, but you can't
cure that. If you are really hard-hearted you
have just got to stay so. Why, I believe it 's
the very worst fault there is."


"For a little girl, I '11 admit, or for a prin-
cess; but not for us. It 's what we all aspire
after, and most of us have it. I never did." He
sighed deeply. "That 's one of the particular
features of my story. Shall I tell it to you ?"
"Yes, indeed," cried Molly.
"Well," said the Dragon, there were
seven of us, and we lived in :i ..
in the mountains. It was La.ic :i -
with lots of cracks and cic\c.::
and crannies to play hide-an.-- T
seek in, and my!-but v
had a good time! Our fa-
ther died when we were
babies, and our mother
let us do just whatever I
we chose. She was
the most indulgent -_
parent that dragon ever -..
had; and yet she did n't
have a tender heart. She
could eat a princess wit all the
gusto in the world; and that is the
thing I never did manage. Oh! h-m-m! It
has embittered my whole life; however, I 'm
not up to that yet.'
"As I said, we had a glorious time up there
in our old cave in the mountains. We never
went away to school- our mother could n't
part with us so we had a private tutor, and
that was fun, too. My -we led him a life!
The jokes we played on that poor old fellow
would make you split your sides laughing; but
I have n't time to tell about them now. I re-
member one morning in particular but never
mind; I guess I won't tell you that."
Oh, please do," cried Molly; "I love to
hear about naughtinesses."
No," said the Dragon, "I don't think it
-would be strictly honorable. You see I 'm
here in your mother's garden, enjoying her hos-
pitality,-her guest you might almost say,- so I
must be doubly careful, and tell you only those
-stories that she would care for you to hear--
.stories that have a moral."
I don't like that kind," pouted Molly.
"Well, you ought to," said the Dragon;
"that's all that concerns me. Shall I go on ?"
Molly thought a moment. "What is the
moral of this one ? she asked.

Never be tender-hearted," the Dragon an-
swered. "It's the best one I know."
Oh," cried Molly, why, that's not a moral
at all! "
You wait and see if it 's not," said the

** -
:^bPP ~..


Dragon, with much confidence. I think I am
the best judge of that."
"Go on," Molly whispered. She felt that
she was a very naughty little girl, but she had
not time to grieve over the matter just then.
Well," said the Dragon, one by one my
brothers left the old cave, till at last I alone
was left. I had always been delicate, and then,
too, I was the baby, so my mother naturally
hated to part with me. But when I was about
five years old I grew impatient of that quiet life,
and determined that it was time for me also to
go forth to seek my fortune.
My mother felt very sad when I told her
what was in my mind. 'My dear child,' she
said, it is what I have been dreading for a
long time, but if you feel that you cannot be
happy here any longer, why, of course, I can't
keep you. Nothing would induce me to make
one of my children unhappy for a single mo-
ment.' Now was n't she a good creature ?"
"Indeed she was," said Molly.



" Next morning I started upon my travels. I
shall never forget how strange everything
seemed to me, secluded as I had always been
in my happy home among the rocks. I remem-
ber well seeing my first man my heart leaped
within me, for I had never seen anything like

poor fellow's face and heard his breath coming
in quick, panting gasps, it gave me such a
queer, sick sort of feeling that I stopped run-
ning and the man got away.
At first I could not imagine what was the
cause of my weakness, but the meaning flashed

tr /-



him before, and 't was only by hearsay that
I knew what he was. Of course, the cor-
rect thing was to chase him; all my bro-
thers had told me that, so I began at once. I
never thought that I should mind. My bro-
thers all enjoyed it, and I expected to also;
but when I saw the horror depicted upon the

upon me all of a sudden. I was tender-hearted!
The conviction forced itself upon me and nearly
drove me mad."
Poor Dragon! said Molly; and then she
thought, Oh, what a bad, bad little girl I am,
to be sorry because he did not eat the man! I
did n't think I could be so wicked! "



"Yes," said the dragon, "that was how I
first knew it, and from that day to this I have
never known a happy moment It 's been the
same way with everything I 've undertaken;
I 'd go out in the woods and see a lovely prin-
cess tied to a tree, a sight that would make
most dragons leap for joy, and it would just
make me cry! I could not help it, somehow,
the tears would come.
I 'd say over and over to myself, You 're
a dragon. You 're a dragon. It's your duty
to eat her. She won't mind. Princesses never
do. It's what they 're made for.' But try as
I would I could not bring myself to do it.
I 'd go away and hide in a cave till some one
had untied her, and sometimes I 'd overhear
remarks like this: They say there is a dragon
around here, and, do you know, the Princess
Rbse, or Belinda, was tied to this tree for three
whole days and he never came near her. I
would n't give much for a beast like that!' Oh,
it was most humiliating, and the older I grew
the worse it was.
"At last one day things came to a crisis. I
was walkingin the forest when suddenly I came
upon three beautiful maidens, all in a row, tied
to sycamore trees. I just turned about and ran!
I 'm sorry to confess it, but it 's true. I scut-
tled over the ground as fast as I could crawl,
slipping under the brushwood and whisking
around the tree-trunks, till suddenly I stopped
spell-bound, for there right in front of me -
was another of them! I just stood still and
looked at her, my eyes almost bulging out of
my head!
So this is the way you bear yourself, oh,
valiant one !' she cried, her voice full of fury.
This is the way you devour princesses, oh,
ranger of the woods! Very pretty conduct;
very pretty, indeed! '
"' Good gracious!' I gasped, do you want
me to eat you?' I had never expected this.
'Let others scoff as they will,' I always thought,
'at least I have the sympathy of the prin-
Look at me,' she commanded; and then I
understood. She was not a woman at all, but
a fairy. I knew her at once by her eyes; they

were pale green and twinkled like stars. Her
name was Merenthusa, and she was both
wicked and powerful.
"'They were my step-daughters,' she said,
'and I tied them to the trees this morning.
I knew that there was a dragon near and I
wanted to get rid of them. Then I tied my-
self to this tree, intending to make myself
invisible when you passed, and so escape
unharmed. When my husband returned he
should find me here weeping and wailing over
the fate of his three lovely daughters. I should
have told him that you were frightened away
before you had eaten me. That would have
been true, at all events.'
No, it would n't,' I cried, and I jumped at
her; and, do you know, I really believe I should
have eaten her, but she raised her wand, and-
that is all I can remember.
I think she must have put me into a magic
sleep, in which I lay for years and. years, for
about two months ago I woke and found my-
self in what used to be the forest it is only a
patch of woods now; a great thicket had grown
up around me, and I suppose that is how I had
escaped detection.
"When I scrambled from it everything
seemed changed; nothing was as it used to be,
and I felt lost and strange. I traveled a great
many miles, always during the night, and hid
in the day time, and after a while I made my
way into your garden, found this old well, and
here I have been ever since. That 's my story.
Now remember, you promised not to tell."
Molly! Molly! Molly !" It was her mo-
ther's voice calling.
The little girl started up from the ground,
where she had been sitting, and ran toward the
house. She felt queer and stiff.
"I don't suppose I can break my word," she
whispered, "though mama would love to hear
about him. Oh, I wish to-morrow would hurry
up and come. I am going to get him to tell
me a new story every day."
But, strange to say, next morning when Molly
sought her friend the dragon in the garden he
was nowhere to be found, and the little girl
never saw nor heard of him again.

VOL. XXIV.-31.




[Begu n in he June number.]



WE have already seen that Marco had a keen
taste for sport, and it is noticeable that he de-
scribes the hunting-scenes of the Khan with
great gusto, as if he had been present at some
of these, and had a good time in the field with
the imperial sportsman. Here is what he has
to say about the animals trained to hunt for the
Great Khan:

The Emperor hath numbers of leopards trained to the
chase, and hath also a great many lynxes taught in like
manner to catch game, and which afford excellent sport.
He hath also several great Lions, bigger than those of
Babylonia, beasts whose skins are colored in the most
beautiful way, being striped all along the sides with
black, red, and white. These are trained to catch boats
and wild cattle, bears, wild asses, stags, and other great
or fierce beasts. And 't is a rare sight, I can tell you,
to see those Lions giving chase to such beasts as I have
mentioned! When they are to be so employed the
Lions are taken out in a covered cart, and every Lion
has a little doggie with him. They are obliged to
approach the game against the wind, otherwise the ani-
mals would scent the approach of the Lion and be off.
There are also a great number of eagles, all broken to
catch wolves, foxes, deer, and wild-goats, and they do
catch them in great numbers. .But those especially that
are trained to wolf-catching are very large and powerful
birds, and no wolf is able to get away from them.

This is an accurate description of the man-
ner of hunting still in vogue in some parts of
India among the native princes. The "lion "
to which Marco refers as being trained to hunt
is the cheetah, a species of leopard, which is
carried to the hunting-field in a box, with its
eyes covered by a hood. When loosed in the
field, the cheetah will bound off in pursuit of
any game that may be in sight; and it seldom
fails to bring it down. Hawking was a fashion-
able diversion in Europe during Marco's time,

as well as in Cathay. Kublai Khan had hawks
of various kinds taught to fly at feathered game;
and his trained eagles pursued larger game, as
wolves and foxes. Here is a detailed account
of the Great Khan's hunting expeditions:

The Emperor hath two Barons who are own brothers,
one called Baian, and the other Mingan; and these two
are styled Chinucki (or Cunichi), which is as much as
to say, "The Keepers of the Mastiff Dogs." Each of
these brothers hath Io,ooo men under his orders; each
body of Io,ooo being dressed alike, the one in red and
the other in blue, and whenever they accompany the
Khan to the chase, they wear this livery, in order to be
recognized. Out of each body of io,ooo there are 2ooo
men who are each in charge of one or more great mas-
tiffs, so that the whole number of these is very large.
And when the Prince goes a-hunting, one of those
Barons, with his Io,ooo men and something like 5000
dogs, goes towards the right, whilst the other goes to-
wards the left with his party in like manner. They
move along, all abreast of one another, so that the whole
line extends over a-full day's journey, and no animal can
escape them. Truly it is a glorious sight to see the
working of the dogs and the huntsmen on such an occa-
sion And as the Khan rides a-fowling across the plains,
you will see these big hounds coming tearing up, one pack
after a bear, another pack after a stag, or some other
beast, as it may hap, and running the game down now
on this side and now on that, so that it is really a most
delightful sport and spectacle.
The Two Brothers I have- mentioned are bound by
the tenure of their office to supply the Khan's Court from
October to the end of March with Iooo head of game
daily, whether of beasts or birds, and not counting
quails; and also with fish to the best of their ability, al-
lowing fish enough for three persons to reckon as equal
to one head of game.
Now I have told you of the Masters of the Hounds
and all about them, and next will I tell you how the
Khan goes off on an expedition for the space of three
After he has stopped at his capital city those three
months that I mentioned, to wit, December, January,
February, he starts off on the Ist day of March, and
travels southward toward the Ocean Sea, a journey of two
days. He takes with him full io,ooo falconers, and some
500 gerfalcons, besides peregrines, sakers,and other hawks
in great numbers; and goshawks also to fly at the water-
fowl. But do not suppose that he keeps all these together


by him; they are distributed about, hither and thither,
one hundred together, or two hundred at the utmost, as
he thinks proper. But they are always fowling as they
advance, and the most part of the quarry taken is carried
to the Emperor. And let me tell you when he goes
thus a-fowling with his gerfalcons and other hawks, he
is attended by full Io,ooo men, who are disposed in cou-
ples; and these are called Toscaol, which is as much as
to say, "Watchers." And the name describes theirbusi-
ness. They are posted from spot to spot, always in cou-
ples, and thus they cover a great deal of ground! Every
man of them is provided with a whistle and a hood, so as
to be able to call in a hawk and hold it in hand. And
when the Emperor looses a hawk, there is no need that
he follow it up, for those men I speak of keep so good a
lookout that they never lose sight of the birds, and if
these have need of help they are ready to render it.
All the Emperor's hawks, and those of the Barons as
well, have a little label attached to the leg to mark them,


II li

ol /


on which is written the names of the owner and the
keeper of the bird. And in this way the hawk, when
caught, is at once identified and handed over to its owner.

But if not, the bird is carried to a certain Baron, who is
styled the Bularguchi, which is as much as to say,
" The Keeper of Lost Property." And I tell you that
whatever may be found without a known owner, whether
it be a horse, or a sword, or a hawklbr what not, it is
carried to that Baron straightway, and he takes charge
of it. And if the finder neglects to deliver his find to
the Baron, the latter punishes him. Likewise the loser
of any article goes to the Baron, and if the thing be
in his hands it is immediately given up to the owner.
Moreover, the said Baron always pitches on the highest
spot of the camp, with his banner displayed, in order
that those who have lost or found any thing may have no
difficulty in finding their way to him. Thus nothing
can be lost but it shall be soon found and restored
without delay.
And so the Emperor follows this road that I have
mentioned, leading along in the vicinity of the Ocean
Sea (which is within two days' journey of his capital
city, Cambaluc), and as he
goes there is many a fine
sight to be seen, and plenty
of the very best entertain-
ment in hawking; in fact,
there is no sport in the
world to equal it!
The Emperor himself is
carried upon four elephants
in a fine chamber made of
timber, lined inside with
plates of beaten gold, and
rS outside with lions' skins,
-'. '6 for he always travels in
this way on his fowling
-- expeditions, because he is
.J'.f. 4' troubled with gout. He
always keeps beside him
a dozen of his choicest
gerfalcons, and is attended
.by several of his Barons,
.. who ride on horseback
S.' alongside. And some-
times, as they may be
':.F" .' n going along, and the Em-
peror from his chamber is
'.. holding discourse with the
SBarons, one of the latter
shall exclaim: "Sire!
.. s Look out for the Cranes "
Then the Emperor in-
stantly has the top of his
/ F / /~{" chamber thrown open, and
having marked the cranes,
he flies one of his ger-
/ falcons, whichever he
pleases; and often the
quarry is struck within
his view, so that he has the most exquisite sport and di-
version there, as he sits in his chamber or lies on his
bed; and all the Barons with him get the enjoyment of



-c, _~~ LCtL


it likewise! So it is not without reason I tell you that I
do not believe there ever existed in the world, or ever
will exist, a man with such sport and enjoyment as he
has, or with such rare opportunities.
And when he has traveled till he reaches a place called
CACHAR MODUN, there he finds his tents pitched, with
the tents of his Sons, and his Barons, and those of his
ladies and theirs, so that there shall be full 10,000 tents
in all, and all fine and rich ones. And I will tell you
how his own quarters are disposed. The tent in which
he holds his courts is large enough to give cover easily
to a thousand souls. It is pitched with its door to the
south, and the Barons and Knights remain in waiting in it,
whilst the Khan abides in another close to it on the west
side. When he wishes to speak with any one he causes
the person to be summoned to that other tent. Imme-
diately behind the great tent there is a fine large cham-
ber where the Khan sleeps; and there are also many
other tents and chambers, but they are not in contact
with the Great Tent as these are. The two audience-
tents and the sleeping-chamber are constructed in this
way. Each of the audience-tents has three poles, which
are of spice-wood, and are most" artfully covered with
lions' skins, striped with black and white and red, so
that they do not suffer from any weather. All three
apartments are also covered outside with similar skins
of striped lions, a substance that lasts for ever. And
inside they are all lined with ermine and sable, these
two being the finest and most costly furs in existence.
For a robe of sable, large enough to line a mantle, is
worth 2000 bezants of gold, or 1ooo at least, and this
kind of skin is called by the Tartars The King of
Furs." The beast itself is about the size of a marten.
These two furs of which I speak are applied and inlaid
so exquisitely, that it is really something worth seeing.
All the tent-ropes are of silk. And, in short, I may say
that those tents, to wit the two audience-halls and the

sleeping-chamber, are so costly that it is not every king
could pay for them.
Round about these tents are others, also fine ones and
beautifully pitched, in which are the Emperor's ladies,
and the ladies of the other princes and officers. And
then there are the tents for the hawks and their keepers,
so that altogether the number of tents there on the plain
is something wonderful. To see the many people that
are thronging to and fro on every side and every day
there, you would take the camp for a good big city. For
you must reckon the Leeches [doctors], and the'Astrol-
ogers, and the Falconers, and all the other attendants on
so great a company; and add that everybody there has
his.whole family with him, for such is their custom.
The Khan remains encamped there until the spring,
and all that time he does nothing but go hawking round
about among the canebrakes along the lakes and rivers
that abound in that region, and across fine plains on
which are plenty of cranes and swans, and all sorts of other
fowl. The other gentry of the camp also are never done
with hunting and hawking, and every day they bring
home great store of venison and feathered game of all
sorts. Indeed, without having witnessed it, you would
never believe what quantities of game are taken, and
what marvelous sport and diversion they all have whilst
they are in camp there.
There is another thing I should mention; to wit, that
for twenty days' journey round the spot nobody is al-
lowed, be he who he may, to keep hawks or hounds,
though anywhere else whosoever list may keep them.
And furthermore, throughout all the Emperor's territo-
ries, nobody, however audacious, dares to hunt any
of these four animals, to wit, hare, stag, buck, and roe,
from the month of March to the month of October. Any-
body who should do so would rue it bitterly. But those
people are so obedient to the Khan's commands, that
even if a man were to find one of those animals asleep



by the roadside he would not touch it for the world!
And thus the game multiplies at such a rate that the
whole country swarms with it, and the Emperor gets as
much as he could desire. Beyond the term I have men-
tioned, however, to wit, that from March to October, ev-
erybody may take these animals as he lists.
After the Emperor has tarried in that place, enjoying
his sport as I have related, from March to the middle of
May, he moves with all his people, and returns straight
to his capital.city of Cambaluc (which is also the capital
of Cathay, as you have been told), but all the while con-
tinuing to take his diversion in hunting and hawking as
he goes along.
In those days hunting with hawks and fal-
cons was called a royal sport, although we
should consider it rather cruel to chase the
birds of the air with fierce birds of prey
which are the natural enemies of the game

birds. But that was certainly a royal manner
of hunting in which Kublai Khan went to the
field. Carried in a fine chamber lined with
gold and covered with choice skins, and borne
by a double team of elephants, Kublai Khan
had only to sit and view the scenery until called
by his barons to look out for the game that
had been scared up for him. No wonder that
Marco exclaims in his enthusiasm that he does
not believe that any other man in the world
has such rare opportunities for sport! But the
great Emperor had one drawback, which must
have reminded him that he was, after all, only
a common mortal. With all his magnificence,
riches, and opportunities for enjoyment, this
gorgeous monarch had the gout!

(To be continued.)



EVERY night when the. lamps are lit,
And the stars through the curtain begin to
When pussy has grown too tired to play,
And has laid herself down on the rug to
sleep -
When the spoon drops into the empty bowl
(For baby has eaten her bread and milk),
And bright eyes hide behind drooping lids,
Fringed with lashes as soft as silk -
When I lift my baby and fold her bib,
And carry her off to her little crib,
She whispers: "Before we cuddle down
Let us take a journey to Jingletown."

Oh, Jingletown is a wonderful town!
Mother Goose lives on its finest square,
And little Jack Homer bought his pie
At one of the bakers' shops there.
The House that Jack Built stands near the

Where they sounded Cock Robin's knell,
And Little Bo Peep there lost her sheep,
When she took them to town to sell.
But the funniest thing of all is this -
You must stop at the toll-gate and pay a kiss!
For the tiniest tear or the slightest frown
Will keep a child out of Jingletown.

When we go, I follow my baby's lead,
But, oh! she never wants to rest,
And I walk the streets of the queer old town
In a never-ending quest.
But the street that my darling loves the most
Is bordered with trees of evergreen,
Whose branches droop to the ground, and
The twinkling lights between.
There the merriest children swarm,
And my darling lingers, wrapped up warm
In her traveling robe of eider-down-
Santa Claus street, in Jingletown!



[Begpn in the November number.



"WHAT a pity," he cried, that the boys on
the next mountain should be left in ignorance
of these victories when we could so easily send
them the news without using the cipher- and
this the Fourth of July, too! "
That form of communication, however, was
strictly forbidden by the severe rules of the
service, and it was the fate of Number 19 to
remain in the dark, like all the other stations
on the line, except the first and tenth and their
own, which alone were in charge of commis-
sioned officers who held the secret of the cipher.
The news of the destruction of the "Ala-
bama," which had been the terror of the na-
tional merchant-vessels for two years, was of
the highest importance, and would cause great
rejoicing throughout the North. Although the
battle with the Kearsarge had taken place on
June 19th, it must be borne in mind that this
period was before the permanent laying of the
Atlantic cable, and European news was seven and
eight days in crossing the ocean by the foreign
steamers, and might be three days late before
it started for this side, in case of an event which
had happened three days before the sailing of
the steamer. After several unsuccessful at-
tempts, a cable had been laid between Europe
and America in 1858, three years before the
beginning of the great war, and had broken a
few weeks after some words of congratulation
had passed between Queen Victoria and Presi-
dent Buchanan. Some people even believed
that the messages had been invented by the
cable company, and that telegraphic communi-
cation had never been established at all along
the bed of the ocean. At all events, news came
by steamer in war-times, and so it happened

that these soldiers, who had been three days
in the wilderness, heard with great joy, on
July 4, of the sinking of the Alabama," which
happened on the coast of France on June 19.
The garrison flag was raised on a pole over
the "A" tent, and the day was given up to en-
joyment, which ended in supping on a roast
fowl, with such garnishings as their limited
larder would furnish. On this occasion Lieu-
tenant Coleman waived his rank so far as to
preside at the head of the table -which was a
cracker-box -and after the feast they walked
together to the station, and sat on the rocks in
the moonlight to discuss the military situation.
If General Grant had met with some rebuffs
in his recent operations against Petersburg, in
Virginia, he was steadily closing his iron grasp
on that city and Richmond; and not one of
these intensely patriotic young men for a mo-
ment doubted the final outcome. Philip and
Lieutenant Coleman had been much depressed
by the recent disaster, and the news of the
morning greatly raised their spirits. If Bromley
was less excitable than his companions, the im-
pressions he received were more enduring; but,
on the other hand, he would be slower to re-
cover from a great disappointment.
"The reins are in a firm hand at last," said
Lieutenant Coleman, referring to the control
then recently assumed by General Grant, and
now everything is bound to go forward. With
Grant and Sheridan at Richmond; Farragut
thundering on the coast; the "Alabama" at
the bottom of the sea, and Uncle Billy forc-
ing his lines nearer and nearer to Atlanta, we
are making brave progress. I believe, boys,
the end is in sight."
"Amen!" said Corporal Bromley.
Hurrah! cried Philip.
"You, boys," continued Lieutenant Cole-
man, "have enlisted for three years, while I
have been educated to the profession of arms;


but if this rebellion is not soon put down I shall
be ashamed of my profession, and leave it for
some more respectable calling."
So they continued to talk until late into the
night, cheered by the good news they had
heard, and very hopeful of the future.
The following day was foggy, and Philip
went down the ladder to bring up the potatoes,
which he had quite forgotten in the excitement
of the day before. Bromley, too, paid a visit
to the tree where he had thrown in the car-
tridges; but the opening where he had cast in
the sack was so far from the ground that it
would be necessary to use the ax to recover it,
and as he could find no drier or safer store-
house for the extra ammunition, he was content
to leave it there for the present. Lieutenant
Coleman busied himself in writing up the sta-
tion journal in a blank-book provided for that
When Philip found his potatoes, which had
been scattered on the ground where he had
been thrown down in the darkness by the mys-
terious little animal, he was at first disposed to
leave them, for they were so old and shrunken
and small that he began to think the troopers
had been playing a joke on him. But when he
looked again, and saw the small sprouts peeping
out of the eyes, a new idea came to him, and
he gathered them carefully up in the sack. He
bethought himself of the rich earth in the warm
hollow of the plateau, where the sun lay all
day, and where vegetation was only smothered
by the coating of dead leaves; and he saw the
delightful possibility of having new potatoes, of
his own raising, before they were relieved from
duty on the mountain. What better amuse-
ment could they find in the long summer days,
after the morning messages were exchanged on
the station, than to cultivate a small garden ?
If he had had the seeds of flowers, he might
have thrown away the wilted potatoes; but
next to the cultivation of flowers came the
fruits of the earth, and if his plantation never
yielded anything, it would be a pleasure to
watch the vines grow. Lieutenant Coleman
readily gave his consent; and, after raking off
the carpet of leaves with a forked stick, the
soft, rich soil lay exposed to the sun, so deep
and mellow that a piece of green wood, flat-

tened at the end like a wedge, was sufficient to
stir the earth and make it ready for planting.
Philip cut the potatoes into siall pieces, as he
had seen the farmers do, and with the help of
the others, who became quite interested in the
work, the last piece was buried in the ground
before sundown.
On the following morning the flags an-
nounced that, in a cavalry raid around Peters-
burg, General Wilson had destroyed sixty miles
of railroad, and that forty days would be re-
quired to repair the damage done to the Dan-
ville and Richmond road. During the next
three days there was no news worth recording,
and the fever of gardening having taken pos-
session of Philip, he planted some of the corn
they had brought up for the chickens, and a
row each of the peas and beans from their army
The tenth of July was Sunday, the first since
they had been left alone on the mountain; and
Lieutenant Coleman required his subordinates
to clean up about the camp, and at nine o'clock
he put on his sword and inspected quarters like
any company commander. After this cere-
mony, Philip read a psalm or two from his
prayer-book, and Corporal Bromley turned over
the pages of the Blue Book, which was the Re-
vised Army Regulations of 1863. These two
works constituted their limited library.
There was a dearth of news in the week that
followed, and what little came was depressing
to these enthusiastic young men, to whom the
temporary inactivity of the army which they
had just left was insupportable.
On Monday morning, however, came the
cheering news that General Sherman's army
was again in motion, and had completed the
crossing of the Chattahoochee River the even-
ing before.
On the I9th, they learned that General Sher-
man had established his lines within five miles
of Atlanta, and that the Confederate general
Johnston had been relieved by General Hood.
The messages by flag were received every
day, when the weather was favorable, between
the hours of nine and ten in the morning; and
now that the campaign had reopened with such
promise of continued activity, the days, and
even the nights, dragged, so feverish was the



desire of the soldiers to hear more. They wan-
dered about the mountain-top and discussed
the military situation; but, if anything more
than another tended to soothe their nerves, it
was the sight of their garden, in which the corn
and potatoes were so far advanced that each
day seemed to add visibly to their growth.
On the morning of the 2ist, they learned
that Hood had assaulted that flank of the in-
trenched line which was commanded by Gen-
eral Hooker, and that in so doing the enemy
had been three times gallantly repulsed. The
new Confederate general was less prudent than
the old one, and they chuckled to think of the
miles of log breastworks they knew so well, at
which he was hurling his troops. General Sher-
man was their military idol, and they knew
how well satisfied he would be with this change
in the tactics of the enemy.
By this time it had become their habit to re-
main near the station while Lieutenant Cole-
man figured out the messages, each of which he
read aloud as soon as he comprehended its
On Saturday morning, July 23, while Corpo-
ral Bromley leaned stolidly on his flagstaff, and
Philip walked about impatiently, Lieutenant
Cpleman jumped up and read from the paper
he held in his hand:
Hood attacked again yesterday. Repulsed
with a loss of 7000 killed and wounded."
With no thought of the horrible meaning of
these formidable figures to the widows and or-
phans of the men who had fallen in this gallant
charge, Philip and Bromley cheered and cheered
again, while the lieutenant sat down to deci-
pher the next message. When he had mas-
tered it, the paper fell from his hands. He was
speechless for the moment.
What is it ? said Philip, turning pale with
the certainty of bad news.
General McPherson is killed," said Lieu-
tenant Coleman.
Now, so strangely are the passions of men
wrought up in the time of war that these three
hot-headed young partizans were quick to shed
tears over the death of one man, though the
destruction of a great host of their enemies
had filled their hearts only with a fierce delight.
During the Sunday which followed, there

was a feeling of gloomy foreboding on the
mountain, and under it a fierce desire to hear
what should come next.
On Monday morning, July 25, the sun rose
in a cloudless sky, bathing the trees and all the
distant peaks with cheerful light, while at the
altitude of the station his almost vertical rays
were comfortable to feel in the cool breeze
which blew across the plateau. Lieutenant
Coleman glanced frequently at the face of his
watch, and the instant' the hands stood at nine
Philip began waving the flag. There was no
response from the other mountain for so long a
time that Corporal Bromley came to his relief,
and the red flag with a white center continued
to beat the air with a rushing and fluttering
sound which was painful in the silence and sus-
pense of waiting.
When at last the little flag appeared on the
object-glass of the telescope, it spelled but
seven words and then disappeared. Philip ut-
tered an exclamation of surprise at the brevity
of the message, while Bromley wiped the per-
spiration from his forehead and waited where
he stood.
In another minute Lieutenant Coleman had
translated the seven words, but even in that
brief time, Corporal Bromley, whose eyes were
fixed on his face, detected the deathly pallor
which spread over his features. The young
officer looked with a hopeless stare at his cor-
poral, and without uttering a word extended
his hand with the scrap of paper on which he
had written the seven words of the message.
Bromley took it; while Philip ran eagerly for-
ward and looked tremblingly over his comrade's
SThe seven words of the message read:
"General Sherman was killed yesterday be-
fore Atlanta."



LIEUTENANT COLEMAN, although stunned by
the news conveyed by the seven words of the
message, as soon as he could reopen communi-
cation with the other mountain, telegraphed



back to Lieutenant Swann, in command of the
tenth station:
"Is there no mistake in flagging General
Sherman's death ? "
It was late in the afternoon when the return
message came, which read as follows:
None. I have taken the same precaution to
telegraph back to the station at Chattanooga.
After this, and the terrible strain of waiting,
Lieutenant Coleman and Corporal Bromley
walked away in different directions on the
mountain-top; and poor Philip, left alone, sat
down on the ground and burst into tears over
the death of his favorite general. He saw
nothing but gloom and disaster in the future.
What would the old army do without its bril-
liant leader ?
And, sure enough, on the following morning
came the news that the heretofore victorious
army was falling back across the Chattahoo-
chee; and another despatch confirmed the
death of General Sherman, who had been rid-
ing along his lines with a single orderly when
he was shot through the heart by a sharp-
shooter of the enemy.
Every morning after that the three soldiers
went up to the station at the appointed hour,
expecting only bad news, and, without fail,
only bad news came. They learned that the
baffled army in and about Marietta was being
reorganized by General Thomas; but the ray
of hope was quenched in their hearts a few
days later, when the news came that General
Grant had met with overwhelming disaster be-
fore Richmond, and, like McClellan before him,
was fighting his way back to his base of sup-
plies at City Point.
One day -it was August 6 -there came a
message from the chief signal-office at Chatta-
nooga directing them to remain at their posts,
at all hazards, until further orders; and, close
upon this, a report that General Grant's army
was rapidly concentrating on Washington by
way of the Potomac River.
They had no doubt that the swift columns
of Lee were already in motion overland toward
the National capital, and they were not likely to
be many days behind the Federal army in con-
centrating at that point. Rumors of foreign
VOL. XXIV.-32.

intervention followed quick on the heels of this
disheartening news, and on August 10 came a
despatch which, being interpreted, read: Yes-
terday, after a forced march of incredible rapid-
ity, Longstreet's corps crossed the upper Poto-
mac near the Chain Bridge, and captured two
forts to the north of Rock Creek Church. At
daylight on August 9, after tearing up a sec-




tion of the Baltimore and Ohio's tracks, a col-
umn of cavalry under Fitzhugh Lee captured a
train-load of the government archives, bound
for Philadelphia."
Thus on the very day when General Sherman
was bombarding the city of Atlanta, and when
everything was going well with the National
cause elsewhere, these misguided young men
were brought to the verge of despair by some
mysterious agency which was cunningly falsify-
ing the daily despatches. Nothing more mel-
ancholy can be conceived than the entries made
at this time by Lieutenant Coleman in the sta-
tion diary.
Returning to the entry of July 28, which was
the day following that on which they had re-



ceived information of the death of General
Sherman, the unhappy officer writes:

My men are intensely patriotic, and the despatch came
to each of us like a personal blow. Its effect on my two
men was an interesting study of character. Corporal
Bromley is a Harvard man, having executive ability as
well as education far above his humble rank, who en-
tered the service of his country at the first call to arms
without a thought for his personal advantage. He is a
man of high courage; and if he has a fault it is a too
outspoken intolerance of the failures of his superiors.
Private Welton is of a naturally refined and sensitive na-
ture, and at first he seemed wholly cowed and broken in
spirit. Bromley, on the other hand, as he strode away
from the station, showed a countenance livid with rage.
After supper, for we take our meals apart, I invited
the men to my tent and we sat out in the moonlight to
discuss the probable situation. We talked of the over-
whelming news until late in the evening, and then sat
for a time in silence in the shadow of the chestnut trees
looking out at the .dazzling whiteness of the mountain
top before retiring, each to his individual sorrow.

In the entry for August 6, after comment-
ing somewhat bitterly on the report of the de-
feat of the Army of the Potomac, Lieutenant
Coleman says, with reference to the despatch
from the chief signal-officer of the same date:

The situation at this station is such, owing to our ig-
norance of the sentiment of the mountaineers and the
hazard of visiting them in uniform, that I find a grave
difficulty confronting me, which must be provided for at
once. Our guide to this point has returned to Tennes-
see with the cavalry escort, and I have now reason deeply
to regret that he was not required to put us in com-
munication with some trustworthy Union men. The
issue of commissary stores is reduced from this date to
half rations, and we shall begin at once to eke out our
daily portion by such edibles as we can find on the
mountain. Huckleberries are, abundant in the field
above the bridge, and the men are already counting on
the wild mandrakes.
August 8. Nothing cheering to brighten the gloom of
continued defeat and disaster. The necessity of pro-
curing everything edible within our reach keeps my
men busy and affords them something to think of be-
sides the disasters to the National armies. Welton dis-
covered to-day four fresh-laid eggs, snugly hidden in a
nest of leaves under a clump of chestnut sprouts inter-
woven with dry grasses, three of which he brought in.

These entries referring to trivial things are
interesting as showing the temper of the men,
and how they employed their time at this crit-
ical period.
On August 18 came a despatch that the

Army of Northern Virginia was entering Wash-
ington without material opposition. Lieuten-
ant Coleman, in a portion of his diary for this
date, says:

After a prolonged state of anger during which he has
commented bitterly on the conduct of affairs at Wash-
ington, Corporal Bromley has settled into a morose and
irritable mood, in which no additional disaster disturbs
him in the slightest degree. With his fine perceptions
and well-trained mind, the natural result of a liberal edu-
cation, I have found him heretofore a most interesting
companion in hours off duty. My situation is made
doubly intolerable by his present condition.

At 9.30 A.M. of August 20, 1864, came the
last despatches that were received by the three
soldiers on Whiteside Mountain.

Hold on for immediate relief. Peace declared. Con-
federate States are to retain Washington.

The effect of this last message upon the
young men who received it is fully set forth in
the diary of the following day, and no later ac-
count could afford so vivid a picture of the re-
markable events recorded by Lieutenant Cole-
August 21, 1864. The messages of yesterday were
flagged with the usual precision, and we have no reason
to doubt their accuracy. Indeed, what has happened
was expected by us so confidently that the despatches as
translated by me were received in silence by my men
and without any evidence of excitement or surprise. I
myself felt a sense of relief that the inevitable and dis-
graceful end had come.
5 *
Last evening was a memorable occasion to the three
men on this mountain. We are no longer separated by
any difference in rank, having mutually agreed to waive
all such conditions. In presence of such agreement, I,
Frederick Henry Coleman, Second Lieutenant in the
12th Regiment of Cavalry of the military forces of the
United States (formerly so called), have this day, August
21, 1864, written my resignation and sealed and ad-
dressed it to the Adjutant-General, wherever he may be.
I am fully aware that, until the document is forwarded
to its destination, only some power outside myself can
terminate my official connection with the army, and that
my personal act operates only to divest me of rank in the
estimation of my companions in exile.
After our supper last night we walked across the field
in front of our quarters and around to the point where
the northern end of the plateau joins the rocky face of
the mountain. The sun had already set behind the op-
posite ridge, and the gathering shadows among the rocks
and under the trees added a further color of melancholy
to our gloomy and foreboding thoughts.



I am forced to admit that I have not been the domi-
nant spirit in the resolution at which we have arrived.
George Bromley had several times asserted that he
would never return to a disgraced and divided country.
At the time I had regarded his words as only the irre-
sponsible expression of excitement and passion.
As we stood together on the hill last night, Bromley
reverted to this subject, speaking with unusual calmness
and deliberation. For my part," said he, pausing to give
force to his decision, "I never desire to set foot in the
United States again. I suppose I am as well equipped for
the life of a hermit as any other man; and I am sure that
my temper is not favorable to meeting my countrymen,
who are my countrymen no longer, and facing the hu-
miliation and disgrace of this defeat. I have no near
relatives and no personal attachments to compensate for
what I regard as the sacrifice of a return and a tacit ac-
ceptance of the new order of things. I came into the
army fresh from a college course which marked the close
of my youth; and shall I return in disgrace, without a
profession or ambition to begin a new career in the sha-
dow of this overwhelming disaster? I bind no one to
my resolution," he continued, in clear, cold tones; "all
I ask is that you leave me the old flag, and I will set up
a country of my own on this mountain-top, whose natural
defenses will enable me to keep away all disturbers of
my isolation."
I was deeply impressed with his words, and the more
so because of the absence of all passion in his manner.
I had respected him for his attainments; I now felt that
I loved the man for his unselfish, consuming love of

country. Strange to say, I, too, was without ties of kin-
dred. My best friends in the old army had fallen in
battle for the cause that was lost. On the night when
we sat together exulting over the double victory of the
capture of Kenesaw Mountain and the sinking of the
"Alabama," I had expressed a determination to renounce
my chosen profession in a certain event. That event
had taken place. Under the magnetic influence of Brom-
ley, what had only been a threat before became a bitter
impulse and then a fierce resolve.
Taking his hand, and looking steadily into his calm
eyes, I said: I am an officer of the United States Army,
but I will promise you this; until I am ordered to do so,
I will never leave this place."
Philip Welton had been a silent listener to this strange
conversation. His more sentimental nature was melted
to tears, and in a few words he signified his resolution to
join his fate with ours.
We walked back across the mountain-top in the white
light of the full moon, silently as we had come. After
the resolve we had made, I began already to experience
a sense of relief from the shame I felt at the failure of
our numerous armies. The old Government had fallen
from its proud position among the nations of the earth.
The flag we loved had been trampled under foot and de-
spoiled of its stars -of how many we knew not. Our
path lay through the plantation of young corn whose
broad glistening leaves brushed our faces and filled the
air with the sweet fragrance of the juicy stalks. The
planting seemed to have been an inspiration which alone
would make it possible for us to survive the first winter.

(To be continued.)







A FALL to the knees,
A turn to the toes,
A spread of the hands,
And a dip of the nose.
It takes all these just to say, "Good-day,"
In Chrysanthemum-land, so far away.



WILLY in the corner crying! What can
be the matter?
What can ail my happy little, merry little
Tears on Christmas morning! tell us
what 's the trouble.
Who has caused the tears that spoil our
little darling's joy?

"Grandpa's gone a-skating with the little
skates I gave him;
Aunty 's sitting reading in the Fairy-
book I bought;

Mama 's playing horses with that pair of
reins-a present
I made to her last Friday. It 's mean!
because I thought-

"Boohoo! I thought that grandpa was a
generous sort of grandpa,
And I thought that all the rest of 'em
were generous, you see;
And after they had all admired the pretty
things I gave them,
They 'd thipk such things more suit'ble
for a little boy like me!"



A FALL to the knees,
A turn to the toes,
A spread of the hands,
And a dip of the nose.
It takes all these just to say, "Good-day,"
In Chrysanthemum-land, so far away.



WILLY in the corner crying! What can
be the matter?
What can ail my happy little, merry little
Tears on Christmas morning! tell us
what 's the trouble.
Who has caused the tears that spoil our
little darling's joy?

"Grandpa's gone a-skating with the little
skates I gave him;
Aunty 's sitting reading in the Fairy-
book I bought;

Mama 's playing horses with that pair of
reins-a present
I made to her last Friday. It 's mean!
because I thought-

"Boohoo! I thought that grandpa was a
generous sort of grandpa,
And I thought that all the rest of 'em
were generous, you see;
And after they had all admired the pretty
things I gave them,
They 'd thipk such things more suit'ble
for a little boy like me!"



HAVE you ever been in Holland? I don't
mean to ask whether you have passed through
it on your way to Germany or Switzerland;
but have you really seen the country and its
peculiar beauties ? If you have, you must have
admired the pretty walks along the canals in
Amsterdam, and the fine old houses and high
bridges in the ancient part of the town, the
beautiful scenery of The Hague and Scheve-
ningue, the splendid picture-galleries, the lovely
woods near Arnheim and the surrounding vil-
lages, the green meadows with their famous
cattle in the northern part of the country, and
-ever so many things more, which you should
some day visit if you have not yet seen them.
Holland naturally looks its prettiest in spring
and in summer, though it is a fine sight to see
the skating on the canals and on the ponds in
the parks upon a bright winter day. But not
all days in winter are bright in Holland. We
have no London fogs; but we, as well as the in-
habitants of the English metropolis, have our
share of rain and mud. If you could see Am-
sterdam during the dark days of November and
December, you would not be much charmed
with it, I fear.
And yet there are days in those months
when, notwithstanding the bad temper of the
weather and the muddy slipperiness of the
streets, all the large and small towns in Hol-
land, and the villages and hamlets as well, wear
a look of importance, of something unusual go-
ing on, and something well worth seeing. This
is on the days preceding December 6, and on
that day itself, when old and young remember
and praise St. Nicholas, the dear old saint of
long ago. There is a pleasant, bright, festive
look about the shops, a gay bustle among the
customers, a cheerful, good-nature shown by
people meeting on the streets, which reminds
one of the famous description of an English
Christmas in Dickens's Christmas Carol."

The city of Amsterdam claims St. Nicholas as
its patron saint, and during the first week of
December confectioners' shops throughout the
city display one special delicacy called St.
Nicholas cake," of which large quantities are
sold at this season. Men" and women"
made of this crisp, brown cake, or gingerbread,
can be bought in different sizes and at all prices.
These sweet creatures are often called "sweet-
hearts" ("vriyers" we say in Dutch), and the
girls receive a "man," the boys a "woman." I
remember quite well what fun it used to be to
hear the servant come in with: If you please,
ma'am, here is Miss Annie's sweetheart "-and
see her hand a gingerbread man to my mother.
Most of the confectioners-indeed, nearly all
shopkeepers give up one of their private
rooms for the purpose of showing off their
Christmas wares to the best advantage.
At the confectioners' happy children gaze
upon little candy tables, chairs, mice, cats,
dogs, funny little clowns and babies, dolls'
houses, whistles, fishes, cigars,--the whole al-
phabet in pretty letters; in fact, everything,-
in sugar and chocolate. I have often seen
little children, allowed to choose one or two of
these precious dainties, take in all the splen-
dor of a confectioner's shop with glistening
eyes, and stand hesitating, hesitating, unable to
decide what they would like to possess most.
Naturally proud is the happy confectioner
of his lovely "hearts," the large pieces of deli-
cious marchpane which his energy molds into
heart shape. A very frequent joke is the send-
ing of such a heart to-an intimate friend. It
sometimes means something, but as a rule is
nothing but a joke. Of course most girls like
having such an innocent heart sent to them;
and it is funny to see the mysterious look with
which one tells another: "I had a large heart
sent to me last night. I cannot possibly think
who sent it! "


One kind of gingerbread is very popular at
the feast of St. Nicholas. From its toughness
it is called "tough-tough" (Dutch, taai-taai).
One needs very good, sound teeth to eat this
hard, brown delicacy, which, however, becomes

- 4.,


i !i .,*

their rarity at this time of the year; the
fancy-shops, with their beautiful vases and
brackets, tiny lamps, blue-and-white jugs, and
tiles, which are the delight of all foreigners;
and the. toy-shops, which seem to rival each
other in an endless variety of dolls and
dolls' houses, rocking-horses, whips, balls,
tr. m-:i r rn.i carriages.
So-.me ..t h-i.:I linen-drapers' shops have a
!n:,Li ii.'ie-ltntation of St. Nicholas in the
'd.. .j'. H- is mounted on a fiery horse,
.*.aclr Ii: n',rr and bright red robe, and
l- a kiin.l I't:-e with a long, white beard,
and hi:. L.ij._k servant Jan (John) stands be-
liird lim-n. One can always see groups of
link- ones admiring the figures.
Many of the other shops are
S'made specially attractive by
--',, 1.'.' the so-called "surprises"


"1"~ ~

'S ii

mellow with age if patiently kept for some time
in a tin box.
It is a treat to go through the streets of Am-
sterdam in this first week of December, and
to walk leisurely past the shops, which all look
their best and brightest, often in pleasant
contrast to the gloomy and dirty weather.
The jewelers' shops, with their splendid show
of glistening rings and necklaces, diamonds of
all sizes, brooches and bracelets, little knick-
knacks and costly trifles, attract a great deal
of attention. So do the fruit-shops, with their
red-cheeked apples and fine hothouse grapes
and pears; the flower-shops, with their delicate
ferns and roses, looking the prettier because of

in the windows. Some-
times they consist of
artificial apples made
of soap, with a myste-
rious opening some-
where, in which the
present has to be
concealed. We also
see beautifully imi-
tated pieces of meat,
loaves, old hats, funny
little Chinese figures,
Ir grim chimney-sweeps,
big carrots, and so on.
But the nicest and
most intricate sur-

prises are those made by the giver himself or
herself. Of these more hereafter.
The greatest fun, after all, goes on in the
houses, not outside. In some families with
many little children the night preceding De-
cember 5 shows a worthy preparation of the
famous things which are to follow. Santa
Claus (or Sint-Nicolaas, also Sinterklaas, as
he is called in Holland) mounts his fiery steed
and rides over the roofs of the houses. He
often puts his hand into his capacious pocket,
and out comes an abundance of sweets, which
he throws through the chimneys into the rooms
where the glad children, who have been sing-
ing the Saint's praises ever since dinner-time,


rush at the rain of goodies and gather as much
as they possibly can.
Sometimes a brave little mite of four or five
years goes as near as possible to the chimney,
and cries out in a loud, clear voice: "Dankje
wel, Sinterklaas/" ("Thank you very much,
Santa Claus! ") The next evening the same
brave child may have to recite a piece of
poetry when St. Nicholas stands before her in
all his glory of miter, white beard, and red robe
trimmed with gold and soft white fur. His
black servant stands grinning behind, and the
little child feels so much awed by the presence
of the two visitors that the poem is recited in
an extremely low voice. Needless to say that
there is always an uncle or a friend of the fam-
ily willing to represent St. Nicholas. The Saint
himself hands round the presents, which his
black servant has been carrying in a large bag,
and afterward disappears not up the chimney,
but, like an ordinary mortal, through the door.
In some houses the little children who go to
bed early put out their shoes and stockings and
find them crammed with presents in the morn-
ing. Others have to play a game of hide-and-
seek for their presents, which the father and
mother have hidden in the most mysterious
manner and in out-of-the-way places. In a
.great many families, however, December 5 is
celebrated by sending and receiving parcels in

the evening of that day. Parcels" must be
taken here in a very broad sense. The ser-
vant who has to answer the bell is obliged to
bring in whatever is put into her hands or before
her, and consequently is often heard to giggle
behind the door of the room in which the whole
family is assembled. Then in walks--nay,
is put a most extraordinary-looking gentle-
man or old lady, or a queer animal, consisting
chiefly of wood or of linen filled with sawdust,
in which the present, sometimes one of very
small dimensions, lies concealed. Funny little
rhymes often accompany the parcels; and gen-
erally much good-natured teasing is contained
in the poetical lines. The patience of some
people is often sorely tried by a parcel consist-
ing of a big ball of very fine cotton, which has
to be unwound to get at the present.
The day after St. Nicholas there is such a
lot of talking and laughing going on in the
school-room, such a buzz, such exclamations of
joy and admiration, and, among the girls, such
kissing and warm thanksgivings, and so very
little inclination for the every-day duties of life,
that the teacher's patience may be tried; but
he or she also has had a bright St. Nicholas
eve, and has enjoyed it so thoroughly that for
once work and learning get less attention than
they deserve, and are neglected for a nice, bright
talk which takes up the first half hour of the day.




^.amB q 1^^

r "' '1 4 i '

Jr r





THE correct and complete list of answers is as follows:


I. Crabbed (crab, bed).
2; Arcady, or Arcadie (ark; A. D. for Auno Domini).
3. Eye-glass (I, glass).
4. Pleasure (plea, sure).
5. Mermaid (myrrh, made).
6. Cat-tail, or cat's-tails (cat, tail; or cats, tails).
7. Helpmeet (help, meat).
8. Escape (s, cape).
9. Nosegay (nose, gay).
Io. Crosswise (cross, wise).
II. Kindred (kind, red).
12. Couplet (cup, let).
13. Lamp-post (lamp, post).
14. Jason (Jay, J, jay; sun).
15. Heathen (heat, hen).
16. Maiden (May, den).
17. Sidewalk (side, walk).
18. Portent, or portents (pour; tent or tents).
19. Shirt-waist, or shirt-waists (shirt; waistor waists).
20. Apron (ape, run).
21. Decade (deck, aid).
22. Threshold (thresh, old).
23. Spendthrift (spend, thrift).
24. Cowslip (cow, slip).
25. Motor (moat, mote; or, ore).

Notice (not, knot; ice).
Capsize (caps, eyes; or caps, sighs; or cap, sighs).
Mortgage (Moore, Gage).
Mandolin (man, dole, inn, in).
Urchin (Ur, chin).
August (awe, gust).
Windfall (wind, fall).
Sideboard (sighed, bored).
Seaweed, or seaweeds (sea, C, si; weed or weeds).
Snowdrop (snow, drop).
Bootjack (boot, jack).
Sealskin (seal, skin).
Corn-cob (corn, cob).
Beanstalk (beans, talk).
Tartan (tar, tan).
Failure (fail, your).
Hubbard (" Hub," bard).
Student (stew, dent).
Ink-well (ink, well).
Brownie (brow, knee).
Sparrow (spar, row).
Lesson (less, son).
Carmine (car, mine).
Firedog, or firedogs (fire; dog or dogs).
Snowball (snow, ball).

Under the conditions, as stated in the October number, the Committee of Judges in awarding the prizes took
into consideration the ages of the senders and the neatness of the manuscripts.
Out of sixteen hundred answers received fifty-eight were found correct; and among these the standard of excel-
lence was so high that it was difficult to decide upon the thirty to whom prizes were due. But after a careful
weighing of merits, the Committee has awarded the promised prizes as follows:


(The figures after the names are the ages of the winners. Where no figures are given, the age is over 8I.)

First Prize, Ten Dollars: May D. Bevier.
Two Second Prizes, of Eight Dollars each: Marian Jackson Homans, 15; Katharine McDowell Rice.
Five Prizes, of Six Dollars each: Etta S. Guild; Clara L. Nasmith; Mary F. Sanford, 16; Amelia Burr, 17;
Roger W. Tuttle.
Ten Prizes, of Four Dollars each: Stoddard S. More, 12; John C. More, 14; Ellen C. Goodwin; Margaret
Webb; Katharine S. Frost, 13; Mary N. MacCracken; Sophie S. Lanneau, 16; J. Barton Townsend; Charles
Ewan Merritt; Julia Townsend Coit.
Twelve Prizes, of Two Dollars each: Abbie S. Kingman; Clara L. King; Anne Huene; Lilian Lehman
Schindel, 17; Robert Dunlap, 12; Eleanor Spangler Kieffer; Earle G. Heyl, 17; Ralph W. Deacon, 18; Mar-
jorie Cole, 12; Norma Rose Waterbury, 13; Elisabeth Quincy Sewall, 5 ; Helen C. McCleary.
But there still remained twenty-eight competitors whose answers, though not equal (under the conditions of the
competition) to those of these prize-winners, were yet correct in giving the list of fifty words upon which the charades
were made. Thirteen of these clever solvers are entitled to especial consideration because under eighteen years of
age, and the Committee has decided to award thirteen extra prizes of one dollar each-to these younger contestants,
VOL. XXIV.-33. 257


and to put upon a brief Roll of Honor the names of the fifteen successful solvers who were over eighteen. The
Roll of Honor is, therefore, a mark of especial distinction, since all whose names are there presented handed in a
correct list of the answers.
Thirteen Extra Prizes of One Dollar each: R. Charlotte Moffitt, 15; Morton Atwater, 14; Elsie Mulligan,
13; Joseph B. Eastman, 14; Stillman Dexter, 16; George Howard White, Jr., 15; Jean Richardson, lo; Elsie
Goddard, II; Evelyn L. Swain, 15; William H. Geisler, 13; Ben F. Carpenter, 16; Grace Viele, 17; Harold C.
Dodge, Is.


Zella Cronyn, John J. Moffitt, Mary Stephens, Harriet I. Meakin, Sue B. Lowrie, Grace Van Glahn, Marion
Fraser Crane, Lucretia Pope, Janet Emerson, Mabelle Jacquette Hunter, Mrs. Charles F. Lilly, Cordelia B.
Browne, D. G. Fisken, Almira C. Twining, Mary Evelyn Thomas.

This competition has been a sort of ST. NICHOLAS family affair. So many kind and charming letters were
received with the solutions, written in a spirit of delightful friendliness, that the Editor has decided to allow all of
the competitors to share some of these letters.

Here are quotations from some of the many letters received:

"I AM over eighteen,-twice over, in fact,--but I was
beginning to wonder even ifat that I was old enough to
guess those charades. However, I aged a good deal while
at work on them, and succeeded in solving forty-nine by
last Saturday, but number two baffled me until to-day."

"Even though I fail to win a prize, I want to thank
you for the pleasure that this and the other prize puz-
zles have given us. We have been taking ST.
NICHOLAS for three years, and have enjoyed everynum-
ber. We all thank you most heartily for many pleasant
hours, and we hope you may live always to delight young

"I must confess to having stayed awake nights over
some of the answers to these charades."

"It is very fascinating and tantalizing, the work of
solving these charades; and the ones that seem simplest
are usually the most baffling."

"The following solutions are sent by one to whom
ST. NICHOLAS has been for years a very dear friend,
bringing often, in hours of pain and weariness, the rest
and recreation which other -though dear book-friends
had failed to bring."

SI am confined to my bed with a lame knee, and it is
in a plaster cast. Mother and I began to work at the
charades for my amusement. We were so interested
we could not stop. Thank you for the pleasure you
have given me."

The prize puzzle in ST. NICHOLAS has given much
pleasure in our family, and we consider it most ingenious
and interesting."

SWe have taken you for seven years, but the answer
to the prize puzzle, forwarded to-day, is the first time
we have attempted any communication but a business
one. We have enjoyed the charades so much, and
are already rewarded by our pleasure for the effort.
Your magazine is highly prized, even in this far-off Ca-
nadian town."

"Although it was not so nominated in the bond,'
Helen desires me to say that she had assistance from
mama in finding her answers. It is with deep regret,
mingled with disgust, that she finally consents to forego
all hope of the first prize, because of number two's Cim-

merian darkness; and she expects a double measure
of disgust when time shall reveal the simple answer.
Helen does not remember the time when ST. NICHOLAS
was not her own familiar friend, and she wishes you to
know that it was because of her delight in Marjorie and
her Papa' that her little sister was named Marjorie five
years ago."

I want very much to get one of the prizes. I tried
so hard to make my answers look nice that the back of
my neck aches yet."

The puzzle has afforded me several dollars' worth of
fun, whether my answers merit a prize or not."

"My people have taken 'dear ST. NICHOLAS' ever
since the first number was issued; we have been brought
up' on it. The youngest member of our household is
now thirteen, but none of our family (and it is a large
one) can ever grow too old to read you."

"I candidly confess that I do not expect a prize, but
I have been richly repaid by the satisfaction derived from
a partial solution of your ingenious brain-twisters."

When I tell you that I have been your constant and
enthusiastic reader since the year 1874, I need hardly
add that I am over eighteen. Every month for twenty-
two years your familiar presence has come to gladden our
household. I have read the conditions for former
prize puzzles with an unconquerable sense of disappoint-
ment that I could not try too, and you can imagine my
delight when I discovered that this time there was 'a
chance for young and old.' I am sure there is no one
who takes more pleasure in submitting a list of answers
than myself."

"For many years I have been your interested reader
and devoted admirer. Therefore I was much pleased to
see your contest thrown open to your grown-up children."

I am so glad you have allowed older readers to guess
your charades. My sister and I began to take your
magazine in 1879, so of late years I have been counted
out in the competitions."

You are an old and dear friend of our family, as we
have a complete set of bound volumes. I have never
tried for any of the prize puzzles before this."



"In sending my set of answers to the charades, let
me send you my thanks for extending the age limit."

I have been deeply interested in these charades, and
think them wonderfully good."

"I have been a reader, for a long time, of your good
pages, but I have not enjoyed anything more than these
capital charades."

It has been a great pleasure to solve this puzzle, as
the charades are so ingeniously written."

"We did not guess quite all of the charades. I could
not tell you the age,because all of our family guessed them
-my mother, father, grandfather, aunt, and uncle."

"I am sure it must be a pleasure to know so witty
and charming a woman as the author of these charades
with the exquisite variety of their verse and their in-
genious and accurate, yet puzzling, clues -must be. I
humbly offer her my compliments on her achievement."

"I am sorry that I must acknowledge eighteen and
over; but two facts, at least, compel me. One is, that in
your very earliest years you were my childhood's fre-
quent visitor, and several of your first volumes are still
treasured in my library, and are often referred to for
instruction or amusement. And the second is a small
daughter who, though too young to solve puzzles, has
for the last three years delighted monthly in the bright
and merry pages of ST. NICHOLAS. I wish to express
the pleasure I have taken, these past few days, in at-
tempting to solve these extremely clever charades."

"M- has solved these charades unaided; and she
has been a regular reader of'ST. NICHOLAS ever since
she could read. I consider a course in your magazine
quite as essential in my children's education as one in

It seems as if I really ought to thank you for all the
pleasure you have given me during the many years that
I have read your pages. You seem even more of a com-
panion to me now than in my younger days, though you
were then the only magazine I cared to read. In es-
pecial, I owe you thanks for the many pleasant hours
spent over these charades. This is the most enjoyable
puzzle I ever encountered; and I have always been very
fond of puzzles."

I inclose a list of answers to the prize charades, and
I wish to add my appreciation of their cleverness. One
had only to guess one answer when the fascination im-
mediately began to work; and if the demand for extra
numbers has been as universal as in this town, I am sure
you will think the charades have received the attention
they deserve."
For fifteen years your magazine hag been a regular
visitor at our home, and next to 'the girls,' their father
has been its most devoted reader, T-i,,,, two e"eninug.
he made satisfactory answers to all but two of lie 1v1%
charades. These he carried with him mentally through
several days' journeys, and finally submits them to your
gentle criticism, with only a very slight qualm on one
single point."

"I send you herewith my solutions to the best lot of
charades ever published. They are not only good, they
are exceedingly clever. I hope you will publish
more charades soon, either with or without a prize at-

"Before me, drawn up in long array, are the red
backs of ST. NICHOLAS, from the first number ever pub-
lished. They are by no means in a bright, new condi-
tion, though they have been bound and rebound; for
they have been constantly used ever since my oldest
brother was old enough to enjoy them. How many
times we have read the old stories! May there
never be a year when a new ST. NICHOLAS is not added
to our long line! "

"I send you herewith my answers to all but two of
the charades, which, of course, we think deserve a prize-
indeed, if they may be valued by the amount of midnight
oil and much wrinkling of brows expended on them, are
entitled to all the prizes However, I shall be satisfied
with one, or even with none, if there be as many bet-
ter answers as will absorb all the prizes. But please
don't give us any more charades, at least not for some
time, until we have rested and got back to our nor-
mal condition. For these charades have risen up with us
and sat down with us for two whole weeks. They have
cooled our porridge in the morning and our soup at
dinner; and as for lunch, Smith's Classical Dictionary'
with 'Worcester 'for sauce, was more than enough. At
first the children complained of having charades served
up three times a day, and between meals as well; and
my amiable better-half has gone about her duties with
the same prize-puzzle expression' as was worn by the
rest of us. Now, however, that the agony is over, we
join in exclaiming,' Oh, joy! '
But, joking apart, we all ask you to thank Miss Caro-
lyn Wells for her beautiful charades, and for the fun she
has afforded us."

ST. NICHOLAS came in my mail when I was ill at a
hospital. The charades have made easier for me many
hours of pain. I think, although I never tried a charade
before, that I could have puzzled them all out if I had
had time and strength, but I could look at the book only
afew minutes at a time; sometimes I could only have a
stanza read to me by one of the nurses, and sometimes I
couldnoteven think of them for days. It has been good
exercise to sharpen the wits, even if I do leave many
blanks. I can hardly wait to see the correct answers."

"Your magazine has been familiar to us a part of
our pleasure nearly all the years of its existence; and
I think the younger readers hardly find it more interest-
ing, or give it a more cordial welcome, than does one, at
least, of the older children."

"In submitting the inclosed list of answers, I would
say that the charades have helped me to pass away many
tedious and painful hours."

"I inclose the combined effort of our family, even
the father at times coming to our relief. The children
have been warned that, so far as a prize is concerned,
they must be willing to be disappointed. Still, they have
had great pleasure in the work, and we thank you for
the pleasure you are always giving us."

"Helen sends you the solution of thirty-seven cha-
rades; she has done her very best without any assis-
tance, excepting her dictionary. She can repeat
every charade, without reference to the book, from con-
stantly studying them."

"This is the first time I have ever tried to solve cha-
rades, and they have nearly driven me distracted. I'am
over eighteen years old, and perhaps it may interest you
to know that I have been stone-deaf and nearly blind
since a little boy, and besides that, I lost all the fingers



of my right hand about eight years ago. Yet, as you
see, I have learned to write. It was hard work learning,
but now, by practice, I can do anything except climb
a rope. As you will imagine, it is no small thing for a
deaf person to solve such play on words as charades;
and the few years of my life in which I could hear were
passed among the Kaffirs and Fingo tribes in South
Africa. I have been a delighted reader of ST. NICHO-
LAS for several years. It is always a welcome guest to

One list,.prefaced by a brief note saying that the
writer was totally blind, was written beautifully, but in
pencil. Besides the list of answers, she inclosed the fol-
lowing original prose charade: "My first is one of the
great ruling powers on the earth; my second is used
many times in the construction of a house; my whole is
often used instead of my first." The word which forms
the answer will be found in this paragraph.
Two or three competitors sent answers in rhyme; and
the winner of the first prize, May D. Bevier, not only
had every answer correct, but put each answer into the
form of a verse that was almost, if not quite, equal in
merit to the charade itself.
A few of her clever verses are here appended.

4. Pleasure (plea, sure).
MAID of Athens, hear my plea !
I have given my heart to thee.
Thou art tender, true, and pure-
Let me of thy love be sure.
Speak thy pleasure, quickly speak!
Alas! to me 't will all be Greek.

in. Kindred (kind, red).
COLUMBUS sailed before the wind,
Leaving his kindred all behind;
They said that, though the world was wide,
He 'd tumble off on the other side:
But he was bold to risk mishap,
In order to complete the map;
And so at last he found his way
To land he took to be Cathay.
He found the natives dressed for bed,
Kind to be sure, but very red.

25. Motor (moat, mote; or, ore).
I TROW a bridge may span a moat,
E'en though the moat be dry;
But I 'd suggest, perhaps the mote
Was in your brother's eye.

I grant you or is difficult
Exactly to explain;
But whether ore is hard to mine
Depends upon the vein.

We have the motor now, and soon, I think,
Gold will be plentiful as lead or zinc.

27. Capsize (caps, eyes).

A YACHT upon a stormy day,
When caps are white on sailor and on sea,
Is watched by anxious eyes always,
Lest she capsize and founder suddenly.

30. Urchin (Ur, chin).
'T WAS Ur that removed to Canaan's fair land;
It's the chin you can't bee, but can hold in your hand;
An urchin 's a radiate, also a boy-
A professor's delight, and a fond mother's joy.

34. Seaweeds (sea, C, si; weeds).
THE sea 's red, yellow, black, blue, white, and gray,
Restless, or dead; C high or low, they say,
And C, or si, is writ to read, or sing, or play.

And weeds are various; some are good, some bad.
A widow's weeds demonstrate she is sad.
A school-girl, finding seaweeds on the sand, is glad.

38. Corn-cob (corn, cob),
HEAR the legend of Mundamin,
How he wrestled with my hero-
Wrestled till his ears were torn off,
Till his riches golden all were
Stol'n by Rusticus, my hero,
Who then harnessed up his courser -
His stout cob, Houyhnhnm, his plow-horse.
Said he: "Faithful friend, come with me;
Drag Mundamin to the miller's:
He will grind him fine as powder."
Home at evening came my hero,
Sat beside the kitchen fire, .
Stripped the corn all off the white cob,
Made himself a corn-cob peace-pipe,
Smoked his peace-pipe, smoked Mundamin.

40. Tartan (tar, tan).
A SOLDIER and a sailorman,
Well met, well matched, and fitly clad:
A jolly tar with a coat of tan,
And a warlike Scot in tartan plaid.

42. Hubbard (hub, bard).
BOSTON 's the hub of the universe,
And Milton 's the bard that's most sublime;
But never a dog was treated worse
Than Mother Hubbard's of olden time.

47. Lesson (less, son).
THOUGH horses be my hobby, dogs my fad,
Still triumph the emotions of a dad:
I love my darling son, not less, but more,
E'en though he find his lesson but a bore.



WE regret to say that an error crept into the Prize
Puzzle, "A Boston Tea-Party." The question was
asked, "Who first copyrighted a book under a United
States law ? It was believed by the author of the puzzle
that Noah Webster was the first, and a large majority of
the puzzle-solvers gave that answer.
The records of the Librarian of Congress prove, how-
ever, that a Philadelphia Spelling-Book" was the first
recorded for copyright, by John Barry, June 9, 1790.
We are indebted to two friendly and scholarly corre-
spondents for calling attention to this error.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: My two sisters and I have
taken you for more than a year, and we like you very much.
My twin-sister is very fond of drawing, and is always
copying your pretty pictures. Last Christmas holidays
we got up some tableaux vivants. We took advertise-
ments from the Illustrated London News." One of
them was a soap advertisement; perhaps you know the
picture,- a little white girl standing on the seashore of-
fering a piece of soap to a little colored boy. I was the
boy, with my face and neck blackened, and black stock-
ings on my arms and legs. My twin-sister was the little
girl. There was no mistaking us that time; sometimes
people make mistakes between us.
Wishing you long life and success,
Your interested reader, DOROTHY C. BUTLER.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have taken you a number of
years, and think your magazine very interesting.
The Old Senate House," the only house left standing
after the burning of Kingston in 1776, stands here still,
and is a low stone building. It is filled with relics.
One is a little shoe said to be over 250 years old; it
does not look much like the shoes we now wear. It also
contains a very old piano (I forget how old), and it looks
something like a writing-desk. I tried to play on it, but
it sounded like pounding an old tin pan.
I am getting a collection of pennies, and have some
very old ones.
Hoping you will print this letter, I remain yours,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a boy of eleven, and I
thought the readers of the ST. NICHOLAS would be in-
terested to hear about the Bennington Battle Monument,
which was finished August 19, 1891. It marks the site
of the old store-houses where the Green Mountain Boys
who fought at the battle of Bennington under General
Stark kept their supplies and ammunition. The monu-
ment is three hundred feet high, and has a large star on
During the battle there stood an-old and historic
tavern where General Stark stayed the night before the
battle. The tavern was called the Catamount Tavern.
It was burned in 1871. They have erected on the site
of the old tavern a life-size bronzed catamount on a pol-
ished pedestal of granite. We live quite near the monu-

ment, and I have been up in it several times. The battle
was fought near a little place called White Creek, in New
York State.
The day that the monument was finished there was a
lively time. West Point Cadets and old veteran soldiers
came marching up and around the monument. In the
carriages which followed the procession I saw ex-Presi-
dent Harrison, who was then President, and also the late
ex-Governor Russell of Massachusetts. In the winter
we live in Troy, N. Y., and in the summer here. We
have spent our summers here for eight years, and we
like it very much.
I must now close, and remain your steady reader,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Although many of my friends
take you, I believe I have never seen a letter from this
place. I am very fond of you, and my ten-year-old bro-
ther is also very interested in you.
I have a pug dog and a cat who are the best of
friends. My pug has a pedigree, but my cat is very
humble, as we found her on the doorstep.
I am very fond of poetry and music. I composed a
study in music, which the music professor at the college
here said was very good. I will inclose a little rhyme
that I composed when I was eleven:



POET. "Pray tell thy mournful secret,
Thou drear November Wind:
Why dost thou moan and mutter?
What is weighing on thy mind?

"Why do the trees stand leafless,
And quiver in thy power?
Why does the sun hide from thee,
And clouds about thee lower?"


WIND. Oh, hast thou seen my maiden,
The maiden of my heart--
Fair Summer? She has wandered,
And we are far apart.

"I 've lost her, my own lady,
With blossoms in her hair;
Of all the fairest maidens,
To me she was most fair.


"She 's a sister to sweet Spring-time,
And she, also, has fled.
POET. "How could I tell the mournful Wind
His Summer-love was dead? "


My brother has a pony and cart, and also a wheel. I
am not fond of his pony, so I drive our large surrey-horse,
which is quite gentle.
I must tell you what my brother and another little boy
found last summer. They were poking" about in an
old coal shed, which stood behind an old empty house,
and found a queer old German snuff-box. Inside lay
two ten-dollar bills and two five-dollar bills. It was
supposed that an old man who had lived there had buried
it under the coal. He and his wife had been dead many
years, and as my cousin owned the property, he gave
the money to the boys for their own.
Your interested reader, CLARE H- .

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little American girl
eleven years old. My father is a missionary-doctor, and
I have always lived in Bulgaria.
I think, perhaps, the other girls who read the Letter-
Box" would like to hear about a holiday we have just
had. It was observed in honor of two good men who
lived many years ago, Cyril and Methodias. They came
to Bulgaria and brought the Bible to their people, who
were heathen at that time, and gave them the written
language. Every year on the 23d of May services are
held in the church, and after that teachers and scholars
go off into a pleasant place outside the city and spend
the rest of the day in merry-making. There are two
missionary schools here, and we go out every year to a
quiet, woody place and take our dinner there and play
games and have a very nice time.
I am your faithful reader,

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: It is so seldom that you see a
letter from the Crescent City that I thought I would
write to you to show you that ST. NICHOLAS is not for-
gotten in this delightful city.
The news that one of the several passes which consti-
tute the jetties at the mouth of the Mississippi River has
a crevasse several thousand feet wide in it, was a sad
blow to the commerce here, as without these jetties at
the mouth of the river New Orleans would be practic-
ally an inland city, as none of the large vessels which
daily enter and leave this large port would be able to en-
ter the mouth of the river, and reach New Orleans.
I have been taking you since 1888, and, unlike other
things, ST. NICHOLAS, as it grows older, seems to get
brighter. I liked "Toinette's Philip." The scene of the
story, as you know, lies in New Orleans, many of the
places mentioned being places of interest to travelers.
The old Union Bank, on the corner of Custom House
and Royal streets, is now a theater. The old St. Roch's
Cemetery is a point which all visitors generally visit
before leaving.
I remain your sincere friend, W. B. GILL.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have never seen a letter from
either Colorado Springs or my old home in the West
Indies. I have only subscribed lately, but we have al-
ways had a bound volume of your delightful magazine
for a Christmas present.
1 have only been in Colorado Springs a few months,
and have always lived in Nassau, Bahamas. It seems
so strange to see the leaves turning and falling, as in
Nassau we never have any frosts or snow.
Nassau is a pretty little island with lovely trees and
flowers, such as the royal ponciana, cocoa-nut palms, or-
chids, etc. There are a lot of wild flowers, and we get
most roses and garden-flowers in the winter, as it is so

hot in the summer. We have lovely white beaches, and
a variety of pretty shells can always be found. We often
go for picnics to some of the cays near Nassau. There
are generally a lot of cocoa-nut trees, and we always
knock down the nuts, and have a drink of the milk.
We sometimes have a dip in the sea, if we get very hot
and tired. Everybody can swim out there. The water
is so warm we can stay in hours at a time.
We came up here last May, and have been spending
the summer on a ranch. The house is on the side of
Cheyenne Mountain, and we have a lovely view of the
prairie. We have to pass through a prairie-dog town
when we drive into the Springs. The dogs are such
quaint little animals; they are so fat when they have be-
gun to get their winter coat.
We are going back to the Springs for the winter. I
am looking forward to seeing snow and ice. We had a
light fall of snow last week; it is the first I have seen.
I think it is very lovely.
I remain your devoted reader, MARION SAWYER.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Our family has taken you for over
a decade, and I have taken you ever since 1892. I think
that the ST. NICHOLAS is the best magazine published,
and I suppose many of your readers think the same. I
live in New Haven on a lovely shady street. Five
years ago there was not an electric car in this city, and
now, I am glad to say, there is not a horse-car.
We go to the seashore nearly every summer, and, as
your readers like to hear about old relics, I will tell you
about some. For five years we have spent three weeks
of summer at Morris Cove. We stayed at the Morris
House, which was built about the year 1700. In the
backyard there is a grapevine over a century old, and
it is nearly a foot in circumference, appearing as a small
tree. In the house are old-fashioned, three-sided chairs,
and many curious portraits. The house is very large,
and was injured by the British in the Revolutionary War.
It is very nice there, with theexception of mosquitos.
I remain a constant reader, CHAS. P. TUTTLE.


As I was waiting in the Syracuse Depot last summer
for papa, who had gone out for a walk, I saw a gentle-
man coming toward me who looked very much like papa,
having the same hat, clothes, and bald head; but,
strange to say, he had no mustache. I could n't believe
that it was papa, although I did n't see what right any
other man had to be smiling at me as if he knew me. I
was placed in a very awkward position. I did n't want
to address any stranger as papa, and yet I knew that if it
was papa and I did n't recognize him, I should be teased
most unmercifully. As he paused in front of me, I be-
gan to laugh or cry, I don't know which. I stopped at
last. And the gentleman with a queer look on his face
turned, and walked away. GWLADYS R. ERSKINE.

WE thank the young friends whose names follow for
pleasant letters received: Edna S. Keith, Grace D. Var-
num, Lucille Byron Lee, Jessie Curran, Frances E.
Lucas, Eva Griffith Stevenson, Edythe Stewart, Lesta
Eckfield, Gwendolen Canfield, Herbert J. H. Hotchkiss,
Sarah S. Wilkinson, Edwin B. Fussell, Beatrice E.
Yoell, Margaret Edwards, Marion A. Barker, Lyle
Barnes, Chas. C. Fisher, Helen M. Wodehouse, James
Waite, Marian Moore Powell, Millie E. C. Davis. Emma
B. Fielding, Mary Howard Lloyd, Coral Clark, Elizabeth
Auchincloss, Winifred E. N. Birks, Enda Halcomb B.,
Francis F. Chase, Fred Biggere and Eugene Shier,
Caroline E. Clark, Rowena M. Newton, Sarah L. Waley.

WORD-SQUARE. I. Ward. 2. Aloe. 3. Rose. 4. Deer.
ILLUSTRATED ZIGZAG. Jefferson. i. Judge. 2. Heart. 3.
Cuffs. 4. Knife. 5. Bugle. 6. Sword. 7. Bison. 8. Money.
9. Noose.
PRIMAL AROSTIC. Maryland. i. Mahogany. 2. Asbestos. 3.
Religion. 4. Ypsiloid. 5. Language. 6. Achilles. 7. Nautilus.
8. Delusion.
CONNECTED SQUARES. I. I. Slab. 2. Lane. 3. Anna. 4.
Bear. II. i. Laws. 2. Atop. 3. Wove. 4. Sped. III. i.
Rats. 2. Also. Tsar. 4. Sore. IV. x. Wars. 2. Aloe. 3.
Rose. 4..Sees. i. East. 2. Alto. 3. Step. 4. Tops.
RIDDLE. Perch.
GEOGRAPHICAL DIAGONAL. Armenia. Cross-words: i. At-
lanta. 2. Orinoco. 3. Sumatra. 4. Genesee. 5. Phoenix. 6.
Liberia. 7. Formosa.
ILLUSTRATED FINAL ACROSTIC. Stuart. (Gilbert.) i. Cutlass.
2. Locust. i. Zebu. 4. Umbrella. 5. Guitar. 6. Epaulet.

DOUBLE ACROSTIC. Primals, melon (lemon); finals, lopes,
(slope, poles). Cross-words: i. Mail. 2. Echo. 3. Lamp. 4.
Oboe. 5. Nets.
RHOMBOID. Reading across: I. North. 2. Rural. 3. Tenor.
4. Edder. 5. Sedan.
SUBTRACTIONS. x. D-raw. 2. Ma-l-t. 3. M-eat. 4. Hi-l-t.
5. Li-v-e. 6. Draw-I. 7. C-art.
HISTORICAL ACROSTIC. French Revolution. i. Fire. 2. Ride.
3 Evil. 4. Now. 5. Care. 6. Heart. 7. Read. 8. Earn. 9.
Vase. io. Own. s. Lead. 12. Use. 13. Taste. 14. Isle. 15.
OwL 16. Now.
DIAMONDS. 1. I. T. 2. Sat. 3. Tales. 4. Tea. 5. S. II.
I. T. 2. Yea. 3. Tepid. 4. Aid. 5. D.
OBLIQUE RECTANGLE. I. L. 2. Lot 3. Lotus. 4. Tudor.
5. Sowed. 6. Resin. 7. Dinah. 8. Naked. 9. Heron. xo.
Dozen. so. Negus. 12. Nubia. 13. Since. 14. Acerb. 15.
Ergot. 16. Boxer. 17. Texas. x8. Rat. i. S.

To OUR PUZZLERS: Answers, to be acknowledged in the magazine, must be received not later than the s1th 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 OCTOBER NUMBER were received, before October x5th, from Josephine Sherwood- G.
B. Dyer- M. McG.- M. K."--" Tod and Yam Four Weeks in Kane" -Mabel and Henri- Paul Reese "Dondy Small"-
Richard H. Weld, Jr.- L. O. E.-" Jersey Quartette "- Edgewater Two."
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN THE OCTOBER NUMBER were received, before October xsth, from Julia Callender, i "The Four G.'s,"
2 Lulu C. Shearman, i Fedora Edgar, 2 Marjorie Watmough, 2 -" Two Allegheny Girls," 2 Margaret Ladley, 2 Florence
Kipp, We Two," r Sarah Otis Ernst, i Virginia and Ruth Battle, 4 Gertrude Teschan, I Claudice Piper, i- Clair, 4 -
Fred Haskell, 2-Marie A. and Hildegard Lemcke, i-Wm. A. Lochren, 9-Eloise F. Purdy, x-Daniel Hardin and Co., 8-
Florence and Edna, 5- Lucille Byron Lee, A. Woodhull, i David R. Pratt, 6- Merry and Co.," 8- Hallock and Co., 2-
Alma L. Knapp, I-Mabel M. Carey and Georgia Curtiss, 8- Chiddingstone, 9- -"Two Little Brothers," Laura M. Zinser,
7-Franklyn A. Farnsworth, 9--Sigourney Fay Nininger, 9-Effie K. Talboys, 7 Helen Garrison, 4-Marguerite Sturdy, 9-
"Embla," 9- Woodside Folks," 3- Clara D. Lauer Co., 7- Orson Moote, Jo and I, 9- Grace Edith Thallon, 9- J. K., Jr.,
and Co., 2- Edward, Will and I, 4 Esther Park, i Harold Beecher, I Nicholas Nolan, Jr., Edith M. A., 2.


WHEN the words have been rightly guessed, and writ-
ten one below the other, the diagonal (beginning at the
upper left-hand letter and ending with the lower right-
hand letter) will spell the name of an American general.
CROSS-WORDS: I. An orthodox Mohammedan. 2. A
sea. 3. Brave. 4. Lamenting'audibly. 5. A plain in
western Palestine celebrated for its fertility. 6. To
gain possession of. R. D. B.


* *
* *


A covering for the head. 3. Afamous conqueror of an-
cient times. 4. Alake in New York State. 5. Pertain-
ing to the ancient Carthaginians. 6. A little cavity. 7.
In scanty.

2. A rug. 3. A piece of metal in the form of a coin,
which serves as a reward. 4. Certain things used for
both tea and golf. 5. To infect. 6. To allow. 7. In
III. CENTRAL DIAMOND: I. In scanty. 2. An ani-
mal. 3. A very useful animal. 4. Beloved of photog-
raphers. 5. The surname of a famous English actress.
6. A song. 7. In scanty.
Timely. 3. A scholar. 4. Hooded cloaks. 5. A des-
ignation. 6. The surname of a famous general. 7. In
2. An affirmation. 3. A pleasure-boat. 4. A dis-
senter. S. Tottering. 6. To test. 7. In scanty.


EACH blank is to be filled by a word of five letters.
No two words are alike,though the same five letters, pro-
perly arranged, may be used to make the seven missing
With careless laugh he * the fruit, when hark I
A step-a tall man, of aspect dark,
Has barred his way: "My * *! then you shall
Mywrath- these of late too frequent grow-
I wield no * *, yet you, rash youth, shall see
How all transgression * its penalty!
For I adjudge ('t is obsolete, you '11 say)
That you shall * what you have done to-day!"


WHY is something to the purpose like a gentle hit ?
In myfirst you '11 find the answer if you think a bit.

Why is the part played by an actor like a breakfast dish?
In my second lies the answer. Find it if you wish.

Why 's an Irishman's fall downstairs like a soldier's
watch ?
In my whole the answer 's waiting for your eye to catch.


THE letters in each circle, in the order in which they
-stand, form a word. When these words are rightly
placed they will form a four-line verse suitable for
New Year's Eve.
TEN letters in four syllables
Compose my well-known name,-
Three vowels and seven consonants,
And only two the same.

My sixth appears in Chili,
My seventh in Holland, and my eighth
In Switzerland so hilly;
My last two are found in Siam;
Now wvho first can tell what I am?
I. I. OFTEN on a tea-table. 2. Method. 3. To wor-
ship. 4.T To work for. 5. Large plants.
II. I. Confuses. 2. Brisk. 3. An animal. 4. A
mistake. 5. To gaze rudely. HELEN MURPHY.

I. THE words described are of. equal length. When
rightly guessed, and placed one below another, in the

order here given, the first row of letters will spell a name
familiar to every reader of ST. NICHOLAS.
THE letters in each circle, in the order in which they

aCROSS-WORDS: A water-fowl. 2. An Asiatic
deer. 3. A wild goat. 4. An aquatic insect. 5 A
TEN letters in four syllables
Three vowels and seven consonants,

In Russia you can find my first,
In Italy my second,
My third in England oft is seen,

My sixth appears in Chili,

In Switzerland so hilly;
My aist two are found in Siam;

1. 1. OFTEN on a tea-table. 2. Method. 3. To wor-

11. 1. Confuses. 2. Brisk4 3. An animal. 4. A

deer- 3. A wild 90at. 4. An aquatic insect. 5. A

batrachian. 6. A pygmy deer found in Java. 7. A
large, wading bird. 8. A fresh-water fish. 9. A bird
of prey. I. An African antelope. n. The "Kingof
Beasts." 12. Arctic sea-birds. 13. An aquatic animal
valued for its skin, fur, and oil.
II. THE final letters of the name of each arimal will
spell an animal dear to ST. NICHOLAS.
CROSS-WORDS (of unequal length) : I. A kind of field
spaniel. 2. A large Egyptian antelope. 3. An animal
of tropical America, allied to the racoon. 4. A large
carnivorous animal. 5. A South African antelope. 6.
A mouse-like rodent. 7. A small rodent. 8. A large
ungulate. G. B. DYER.
EXAMPLE: Divide a city of Ireland into a metallic in-
strument and quick. Answer, Bel-fast. All of the cit-
ies are in the United States.
I. Divide a city into a boy's name and a planet.
2. Divide a city into an organ and a shallow place in
a river.
3. Divide a city into a masculine name and a weight.
4. Divide a city into a foreman and a weight.
5. Divide a city into e prohibition and blood.
6. Divide a city into a masculine name and a place of
7. Divide a city into a season and a poet.
8. Divide a city into angry, a pronoun, and a planet.
9. Divide a city into a small stream and another city.
Io. Divide a city into adhere and to draw from the
11. Divide a city into uncooked and a sheltered place.
12. Divide a city into novel and a place of safety.
I AM composed of one hundred and eight letters, and
form one verse of a well-known poem.
Her 3-62-105-75 it was Belinda, and his 69-62-105-31 it
was 20-97-81-81-34;
They loved each other 11-93-62-47-100-28 and they said
that they would 105-62-81-81-67.
Said 55-21,'on their 92-47-2-84-30-19 wedding-day,
"I'm happy as a 27-9-76-70; "
And 49-44-13, with equal happiness, did 38-63-51 with
joy and 16-35-98-78:
"The violet 's blue; the I-40-96-Io8 is red as 65-38-62-
81-94-101-56 holly-berry;
My own big 61-28-59-26 are 12-39-41-101 and I am
32-62-64-47-45-81 than a 32-62-64-47-51.
My wedding-ring has 91-89-97-105-5-36-o16-49 bright,
and if they 're not too 11-59-62-47,
I '11 get a ring and 72-13-38-27-52-97-38-101 on my
birthday every 34-93-97-63."
They 49-80-62-63-73-108-25 on their wedding 102-85-
6-81, the wide 8-18-81-14-42-for to see;
They thought they 'd take a 12-5-62-87 and 63-85-88
across the "82-36-66-71-97-98 Sea;"
A 46-86-63-77-48-41-26 54-62-90-o08 did 38-79-97-96-
31 that boat, and 38-62-41-4-103-57 her in a 105-104-
And ere our pair could 92-62-68-95 their 38-63 97-32-
50, they found they were "72-40-29 53-83 107-17."
They could not 49-22-23-105, they could not 32-10-40-
62-7; he 74-108-24-99 her 12-60 her 58-97-53-47;
She 38-33-6-3-37 to him; some voyagers soon found
them struggling there.
They in a 80-1-68-38-61 were helped aboard a ship so
grand and 65-87-62-57-45-94-60,
They said though their first voyage had 46-97-53-15-
S13-II, their second pleased them greatly.
And so they got back 20-40-105-61 with care,-
A 49-97-o16-11-75-63 and a 8-68-96-75-81 pair.


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