



Produced by Annie R. McGuire








[Illustration: HARPER'S ROUND TABLE]

Copyright, 1895, by HARPER & BROTHERS. All Rights Reserved.

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PUBLISHED WEEKLY. NEW YORK, TUESDAY, DECEMBER 10, 1895. FIVE CENTS A
COPY.

VOL. XVII.--NO. 841. TWO DOLLARS A YEAR.

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[Illustration]

FOR KING OR COUNTRY.

A Story of the Revolution.

BY JAMES BARNES.

CHAPTER VII.

AN UNINTENTIONAL VOYAGE OF DISCOVERY.


The tide ran so swiftly that at first it appeared to George that he did
not gain an inch on the drifting boat, and the short choppy waves
dashing against his face almost drove his breath away at times. The day
when his brother William had saved him from drowning at Stanham Mills
came back to him.

But surely he was drawing nearer! he could see the hull much more
distinctly, and could hear the loose oars rolling across the thwarts.

Desperately he forged along; he was calling on his nerves, his vital
force, for a last effort. In a moment more he reached the stern, and,
placing his knee on the rudder, fell inside the boat.

To save himself he could not lift a finger now; he lay there perfectly
conscious, sprawled in the stern sheets, his chest heaving, his head
thrown back--played out in every muscle. It was fully half an hour
before he moved, and when he did so the sense of his position came fully
upon him.

All about reached the opaque white wall, and although a short time
before it had been so warm, George now felt chilled--his teeth were
rattling. This reminded him of the coats, and the letter in Carter's
pocket that had nearly cost his life.

Getting on his knees he perceived to his astonishment that the boat was
half filled with water, and that the coats were floating in it at his
feet.

At once he set to work, and there being nothing else to use he took his
hat and Carter's and baled with both hands.

This exercise warmed him, and started his blood and pulse going once
again.

When the water had been put over the side, George wrung out the coats
and drew the sail about his shoulders. But first he found the letter
that had caused all the trouble. It was addressed, "To the Convention at
White Plains," and in the corner was inscribed, "A plan to destroy the
British fleet by means of floating barrels of gunpowder, suggested by
Mason Hewes, Colonel III. N. J., Reg't of Foot."

"One of the Colonel's schemes," said George to himself. But this did not
seem so important as a memorandum in Carter's hand, made on a slip of
paper, and showing the disposition of the American forces on Long
Island.

He tore up the latter, but Colonel Hewes's address to the convention he
attached to a bit of iron that he found, ready at a moment's notice to
drop it overboard.

"I haven't the least idea where I am," he remarked, "so I had best be
content with being alive. Oh, if this abominable fog would only clear
away!"

It had been quite late in the afternoon when the boys had left the
little cove at the foot of Brooklyn Heights, and now the light that
filtered through the mist was growing dimmer. The ebb was still on, for
the boat was drifting slowly. Another half-hour passed.

"What is that?" exclaimed George, suddenly, for a lapping sound came to
his ears; it was the noise of the little tide waves against the prow of
a vessel at anchor--he had heard it often along the wharves. As he
peered out with his face over the side he heard loud and distinct,
almost above him, the rattle and click of a block and tackle.

"'Vast 'eeaving there," called out a voice, so close that George
started. "Belay, you lubbers," called the voice again.

A strange odor filled the air, a smell compounded of so many things that
it cannot be described. George knew it to be that of a crowded ship--the
smell of a man-of-war.

"I must be right among them," he murmured.

All at once, so close to him that he could almost reach it with an oar,
loomed a great black shape, and over his head extended the muzzles of a
line of guns, and above them another, and still above, a third.

"A seventy-four!" said George, crouching down in the bottom of the boat
beneath the sail.

Slowly he drifted past; he could see the white streaks on her sides, and
hear snatches of songs and the hum of voices. At last he was directly
beneath the bulging quarter galleries, and a voice called out,

"What's that below?"

"A boat, sir, adrift," some one answered, in gruff sailor tones.

"Any one in her, Quartermaster?" inquired the first again.

"Can't see, sir," was the reply.

"Tumble into the cutter, then, and take after her," came the order.

The shrilling of a boatswain's pipe followed, and the hoarse bawl, "All
first cutters away," started George to action.

"Now for another swim," he said, as he passed the battle-ship's mighty
stern. "The shore of Staten Island must be off there to the left."

He hove both coats into the water, and, taking Mr. Hewes's epistle in
his teeth, lowered himself after them. He hated to sacrifice the
spy-glass, but overboard it went with the rest.

He had taken but a few dozen strokes when the thrumming of oars sounded
plainly, and he rolled over on his back to listen--the oars stopped.

"Cutter there!" came from the deck of the seventy-four. "Have you found
that boat?"

"Ay, ay, sir," the cutter hailed in return. "There's nothing in it but a
hat."

George smiled and struck out again. "That shore's a long ways off," he
thought, after he had swum for some time steadily, and as he made this
remark to himself his knee struck something hard; he dropped his feet to
sound, and found that the water scarcely reached his waist.

Tired and faint, he waded up to a shelving beach and fell forward in the
sand. But he could not stay there long, for he knew that Staten Island
was overrun with English soldiers. He must find some place to hide.

The fog had lessened, but it was growing dark. A ship's bell struck the
hour, and the sound was taken up by a hundred others in a chorus of
clanging and ding-donging out in the mist.

George walked up the beach. The water's edge was littered with débris
from the fleet--baskets and empty boxes, crates, and drift-wood of all
sorts. Something caught his eye, and he stooped and picked up a
stout-handled boat-hook.

"Some poor fellow got the rope's end for losing this," he said. "It may
come in handy for me." He shouldered it and walked quickly away. A few
rods further on he came across a narrow pier or causeway that ran from
the bank above the beach to a boat-landing some distance out.

There was just room for a man to crawl underneath. George stooped on his
hands and knees and worked his way in as far as he could with comfort.
Then he half buried himself in the dry sand. Tired with his two long
swims and with the excitement of the last few hours, he went to sleep.
But it was not for long. Suddenly he awoke--a great fear was on him. Why
had he not thought of it before? _Had Carter reached the shore?_ George
had heard no sound from him after he had turned to speak of leaving the
paper in the boat.


CHAPTER VIII.

THE BREAKING STORM.

The reason that Carter did not hail, as tacitly agreed upon, is simply
told. He could not have raised his voice if the fate of the country
depended on his doing it, for he never remembered reaching land at all.

When George had left him, Carter had kept straight ahead, but made the
great mistake of trying to fight against the swiftly running tide.

It buffeted him hither and thither, until he became utterly exhausted,
and could just keep himself afloat and no more by weakly treading water.
The direction of the shore he lost completely for some minutes, when all
at once he heard the rippling sound again. Desperately he struck out,
and then, oh joy! he heard the sound of voices.

Carter tried to shout, but a sturdy wave catching him fair in the face
muffled the cry and almost foundered him. He remembered taking two or
three strokes after that; then all went black.

"I'm certain I heard a cry out here," said a voice in the fog.
High-pitched and distinct, the tones were very different from those that
answered.

"You have ears like a rabbit's, then," growled a deep bass. "For I heard
nothing. Come, as I was saying--"

"Pardon me. Just hearken for a minute. It may sound again," interrupted
the first speaker.

Two figures leaned out over the Battery wall.

The owner of the deep voice was a large man who sloped off in all
directions. A huge scratch-wig was pulled over his forehead. The other
would have attracted attention anywhere. Above a tightly buttoned
snuff- coat appeared a thin pinched face, whose little eyes
looked out above prominent cheek bones, and whose chin was thrust
forward from a voluminous neckcloth. His movements were quick and active
as a weasel's. As he peered through the mist he pointed with his finger
as if he were following something of whose constantly changing position
he were not exactly sure.

"Yes; there it is," he said at last. "Gadzooks, it's a man's body! Here
goes for it."

The little man vaulted to the top of the wall, and made a beautiful
clean-cut dive out into the water. The counter-current set up by the ebb
tide swirled softly against the sea-wall. It was easier swimming than a
few rods further out.

"Hulloa!" called a voice at last.

"Hulloa! This way," answered the large man, who was deftly casting loose
a stout rope made fast to a ring-bolt in one of the stone posts. "Here.
This way."

"I have him," said the one in the water, panting slightly. "But whether
alive or dead I know not. It's the body of a lad," he added, as he
caught the rope the big man hurled to him.

Quickly he tied the end under Carter's armpits, and finding room for his
fingers and toes in clefts in the masonry, he climbed unassisted to the
Battery wall.

Together both men pulled the apparently drowned boy to the top.

"Jabez, you are one of the greatest I know of," said the big man, as he
helped to carry the senseless figure to a grass-plot.

"Tush!" was the answer. "I'm a good swimmer, mayhap, for my light weight
and growing years, that's all." Indeed, this had been proved, for the
small one had not even paused to remove his coat. "The lad's alive," he
went on, speaking with his ear pressed close to Carter's chest. "Bear a
hand quickly, we must get him in-doors."

"Ay, but where?" rejoined the larger.

"To our friend the widow's. 'Tis but a step."

Again they picked up their burden and disappeared in the mist.

When Carter Hewes came to his senses he found himself in a little room
that was nearly filled by the big four-poster bed in which he lay. His
head throbbed, and he felt faint and weary. But the feeling of being
safe and warm was so comforting that he did not at once worry as to his
whereabouts.

Some persons were talking close to him; he could hear the words they
said, but at first he could not raise himself. At last he got up,
however, on his elbow. The voices came from behind the closed door at
the head of his bed.

"I am sick of hiding here like a fat badger in a strange hole that,
by-the-way, is much too small for comfort," grumbled a deep voice.

"Take heart. It's for a righteous cause," answered a high-pitched one.

"Why not declare ourselves, and have it done with?" returned the first.

"The time's not ripe. We will be able to accomplish much more--and to
play the rôle will require no dissembling."

"That's well enough, but I'm tired of it all," came the grumble.
"Suppose the British do not take the city."

"Tush! New York cannot be held. Remember that we--" The reply stopped,
for a woman's voice broke in.

"How's the young gentleman?" inquired a loud feminine whisper with an
unmistakable brogue.

"I'm just going in to see how fares it with him," was the response.

Carter dropped back on the pillow, and half closed his eyelids. There
was a small mirror at the foot of the bed, and in the reflection he saw
the door open and a face peep in. He caught a glimpse of a pair of keen
eyes, a large nose, and a strong determined jaw. Immediately the door
closed.

"He's asleep," was whispered out in the hall. "'Tis the best thing; when
he wakens you can ask him questions. But not a word as to who fetched
him here."

"No, sur, not a word," the woman replied.

Whether it was the suggestion contained in the warning or not that
worked the charm, it is hard to tell. The fact was, however, that in a
moment Carter began to snore. It was dusk when he awakened the second
time. He felt much stronger, and a flood of recollections that had not
bothered him before came over him.

"Where was George? I hope and trust he's safe; God grant so," he said
out loud. Then he weakly stepped out on the floor, and made his way to
the window. "Hullo!" he said; "I know where I am, thank goodness." He
had looked out on the Battery green. "Now to find out to whom I am
indebted," he added, walking to the door. "Ahem," he said, loudly, to
attract attention. Then, "I beg pardon. Is there any one in?"

No answer, although Carter thought he heard a movement up stairs. Again
he called, then he whistled.

"They must be all out--or dead!" he ejaculated. "What am I to do for
clothes?"

As he turned back into the room he saw a much-worn coat hanging over a
chair, a pair of shoes with brass buckles, and some thick yarn
stockings. He tried them on; the coat was a trifle tight, so were the
shoes, but he squeezed into them, and went down the stairway. No one was
there.

"Well, I can't wait to thank my unknown friends to-day," he said; "I'll
call again." He slowly walked out of the doorway, looking over his
shoulder every step or so.

It had grown very dark in the last few minutes, so dark that a number of
people had lit candles in their houses. Carter noticed that they shone
with a peculiar greenish light; some shutters were closed noisily. When
he reached the green he paused. Many a thunder-storm had he seen
gathering before, but never a sight like that. To the south-west rose a
sheer wall of blue-black cloud, and overhead were circling and twisting
huge billows, like the smoke of burning tar; a few big drops spattered
out of the sky. But there was dead silence--not a sound of thunder or a
quiver of light.

"Looks like rain," said a facetious burgher, who stood with gaping mouth
and face upturned.

Carter did not answer, but hurried on; somehow he felt that he was
dreaming. He had half expected to see the British fleet anchored off the
Battery. There was not a sail in sight, so he made straight for the
headquarters of George's regiment, praying that there they would have
news of him.

"No one's heard of Sergeant Frothingham since yester-morning," replied a
number of George's squad. "He got leave for a day and hain't come back,"
the man added, grinning.

This was the first intimation Carter had that he had been unconscious
twenty-four hours. He felt sick at heart. His regiment was over on Long
Island, his father was there also, and he knew few people in the town.
George's commander was his own cousin, however, and getting the
direction of Captain Clarkson's house, he started out. It was dark as a
mine shaft in the street--hardly light enough to see the walk ahead.

The young soldier plunged through the door of a public-house only a few
steps further on. It had commenced to blow, and the wind roared
furiously in the swaying elms outside. Occasionally the lightning made
it bright as day. Carter sank into a big oak chair.

"Ah, Lieutenant Hewes! Not over on the island?" said some one, clapping
his hand on the lad's shoulder. "Where have you been?"

"I do not know exactly," murmured Carter, faintly, looking up at the
handsome face of Lieutenant Alexander Hamilton, whom he had met often on
the drill-grounds.

"That means there's a story to be told," went on the other. "Come, join
me in my dining. Don't let the elements interfere with our natural
appetites."

Carter did not know that part of his faintness came from lack of food.
But when a big bit of tender mutton was placed before him, he ate with
every mouthful putting life into him.

As he was about to begin to tell the tale of adventure of the previous
day he felt something hard in the lining of the borrowed coat, and
inserting his fingers, he drew forth a small note-book; he uttered an
exclamation of surprise.

"George Frothingham--his book, 1774," he read, and sat there too
astonished to speak. "That was the year he left school--to go to Mr.
Wyeth's," said Carter out loud. Again the anguish and fear shook him,
for it recalled the last time he had seen George's face, and this book
in the pocket of a strange coat. What meant it?

Lieutenant Hamilton looked as if he feared that his friend's senses had
left him suddenly.

"Let us have the story, Comrade Hewes," he said.

But it was never to be told. An interruption occurred just then that
changed the current of every thought, and stirred the room to a pitch of
action.

The door was burst open, and a man dripping with rain came in; he
carried a lantern, whose light had been extinguished.

"Oh! but it's a frightful night for a body to be out," he said. "Three
persons were killed by the thunder-bolts on Broadway. But have ye heard
the cannon firing?"

"You're crazy," said some one. "Cannon on such a night as this! But,
hearkee!"

Three distinct reports sounded in quick succession.

"That's no thunder," said the landlord.

"The signal guns!" exclaimed Lieutenant Hamilton.

Again the door was forced open, and, accompanied by a blast of wind and
rain, a soldier plunged into the room. His hat was gone, and his loose
hair was plastered down his face.

"A spy has arrived through the storm from Staten Island!" he shouted.
"The British are landing in force at Gravesend. Officers are ordered to
their commands at once."

[TO BE CONTINUED.]




A NEW LIFE.

FLORENCE HALLOWELL HOYT.

CHAPTER VII.


Ten days after the lawn party Aunt Patty and Cynthia were alone once
more in the old farm-house, for Ida had departed to Rocky Beach to spend
the month of August with Angela Leverton.

She went away in gay good humor, eager--as are all young people--for a
change. But she was very affectionate when she parted with her aunt and
sister.

"I do wish you were going also, Cynthia," she said.

Cynthia's plain, sweet face lighted up with pleasure.

"Do you, really?" she asked.

"Yes, I do, _really_," answered Ida. "I would be willing to stay at home
myself if you could go in my stead, Cynthia."

She gave a pleasant greeting to old Jake Storm when the stage stopped
for her; and as it bore her away she waved her handkerchief from a
window until the old farm-house and the two watchers at the gate were no
longer to be seen. How little she dreamed what was to happen to her
before she saw Brookville again!

"How we miss Ida!" said Aunt Patty or Cynthia half a dozen times a day
during the next week, and with what pleasure they read her frequent
letters! Their tone was entirely different from that of those she had
written during her stay at Aunt Stina's.

"She actually inquires about Moses," laughed Cynthia one day, as she
laid down a letter just received from Ida.

As Moses was only a lame white turkey, this interest on Ida's part
seemed surprising when contrasted with the utter indifference she had
shown to everything about the farm on her arrival in June.

Ida herself was surprised at the amount of thought she gave to those she
had left behind. More than once she astonished Angela by remarking that
she "wondered what Aunt Patty and Cynthia were doing now," and often,
when wandering along the beach, she wished Cynthia could see the waves
breaking against the rocks, and hear the lap of the surf.

One day--a day fraught with much importance as it turned out--Angela and
Ida drove to the little town of Edgerton to attend to some shopping for
Mrs. Leverton, who was an invalid--or fancied herself one.

It was late in the afternoon when they started homeward, and they were
bowling along at a good round rate on the hard road, when suddenly Ida
laid a hand on the reins.

"Stop a moment, Angela," she said. "Look at that poor woman sitting
under that old tree. She must be ill."

"It is more likely that she is intoxicated," answered Angela.

The woman was young, but her appearance was singularly forlorn, for she
was ragged, barefoot, and wore a man's straw hat on her dishevelled
black hair. She sat with her back against the tree, her chin sunk on her
breast, and her eyes closed. In her arms was a baby wrapped in a faded
red shawl, and near by was a cart, in which was heaped a miscellaneous
collection of household goods. She did not look up as the phaeton
stopped, nor appear to hear the voices of the girls.

"I think we ought to find out what is the matter with her," said Ida.

"Oh, it isn't necessary; she is only a common tramp," rejoined Angela.

"She looks as if she were in some sort of a stupor," said Ida.

"Then we had better drive on; she may have some dreadful disease. Ida,
surely you are not going to get out. How foolish!"

"Well, it may be foolish; but I cannot drive on without finding out
first what is the matter with the poor thing," said Ida, as she stepped
out of the phaeton.

Strangely enough, the thought of Aunt Patty had come into her mind.
Would Aunt Patty have driven by without making an effort to help? Of
course not.

The woman raised her head as Ida drew near, and her heavy eyes opened
slowly. She stared dully at Ida without speaking.

[Illustration: "ARE YOU ILL?" ASKED IDA.]

"Are you ill?" asked Ida.

"I'm dyin', I guess," answered the poor creature in a thick voice. "I
don't know what's the matter of me. I ache all over, 'n' my head's 'most
burstin' open."

"Oh, Ida, do--_do_ come away," cried Angela from the phaeton.

But Ida paid no attention to her. She bent over the woman, and, drawing
off her gloves, put her soft cool hand on the flushed forehead.

"You have a high fever," she said, "and you ought not to stay here; it
will soon be dark. Have you no home nor friends?"

"I'm tryin' to get to my sister in Edgerton," was the reply. "I've
walked all the way from Stormville, a-draggin' that cart 'n' a-carryin'
of my baby. I can't go no further. I'm clear worn out."

Ida went out into the road again. "Angela! we can't go off and leave
this poor woman here to die," she said.

"I don't see what we can possibly do for her," rejoined Angela.

"We might put her in the phaeton and drive her to Edgerton."

"Put her into my nice phaeton! That horrid, dirty woman!" Angela stared
at her friend in astonishment at such an extraordinary proposition.
"Indeed, she shall not come anywhere near me! I am sure she has some
dreadful contagious disease."

"Angela, we can't go off and leave her here. It would be utterly
heartless."

Angela set her mouth stubbornly. "Other people will probably come along
and do something for her," she said. "There may be a dozen wagons along
here before night."

"We can't be _sure_ that even one will pass; this road is not much
travelled," said Ida.

"She must take her chances, then." Angela's tone was cool. "Come, do get
in, and let us drive on, Ida. We have wasted too much time already."

Ida hesitated. Her gaze wandered from Angela to the sick woman, whose
head had fallen forward again. Then her face brightened suddenly. "The
cart!" she said. "Why did I not think of it before? I can get her into
that cart; it will be quite large enough if I take out all those
things."

"But what good will that do?" asked Angela. "How will she be any better
off in the cart?"

"I can pull it, and take her to Edgerton in that way."

"Ida!" Angela almost shrieked.

"Yes, I can, and I _will_, unless," and she smiled winningly, "you will
allow me to put the cart behind the phaeton? Then Prince can pull us
all."

"Well, I suppose I can do that much," said Angela, reluctantly; "but how
will we look!"

"We needn't care for that. People who want to laugh can do so."

"And are you going to handle all those horrid cooking utensils in that
cart? And that soiled pillow and blanket? Oh, Ida, I wouldn't touch them
for anything you could offer."

Ida laughed. "It's in a good cause," she said, cheerfully.

A few minutes later the sick woman and her child were in the cart, and
the little cavalcade set out for Edgerton. As the cart was old and
rickety they feared it would fall to pieces under any strain, so Prince
was made to walk.

As they reached the outskirts of Edgerton they saw Dr. Stone of that
place coming jogging toward them in his low buggy, driving his big gray
horse. He pulled up as he met the girls, and listened with interest to
the account Ida gave of their charge.

"I fear you have done an imprudent thing for yourselves," he said, "but
of course it was only natural and right that you should want to help the
poor creature. She must go to the hospital ward of the county
poor-house. That's the only place for her. I will drive there at once
and order a man to be sent for her." He sprang out of his buggy and drew
the cart to one side of the road. "She is asleep, and will not miss
you," he said, "and as you have a long drive before you, I advise you to
start at once."

The girls were only too thankful to be relieved of their troublesome
charge.

"But I venture to say that we have already caught the fever from her,"
said Angela, as she once more turned Prince's head toward home, "and if
I fall ill I will never forgive you, Ida."

"If either of us is to suffer it will be I," said Ida.

"Well, that would be only fair; for you know I didn't want you to go
near her, and you _would_ do it. You even handled those soiled things in
that miserable cart."

"I know my Aunt Patty would have blamed me had I followed your advice,"
said Ida.

"Well, you need not have cared for that. What if she did?" replied
Angela.

"It would have mattered a great deal," answered Ida, in a low voice. "I
don't believe my Aunt Patty ever did an unkind or a cowardly thing in
her life."


CHAPTER VIII.

Four days later Ida was lying one morning on a wicker-work lounge on the
front porch of Mr. Leverton's cottage, when the man employed to take
care of the horses returned from a trip to the post-office, and handed
her a letter.

[Illustration: ARRIVAL OF AUNT STINA'S LETTER.]

Ida took it listlessly. She had not felt well since the night before;
her head had ached; she had pains in her limbs, and felt dull and
sleepy.

"From Aunt Stina," she said to Angela, who sat near her, reading. "She
writes from Paris," she added, as she tore the letter open.

"Read me anything very interesting," said Angela. "I hope she tells
about the Paris fashions."

But Ida read down to the bottom of the first page without communicating
a word of its contents. Then suddenly she gave a sigh that was almost a
sob, and covered her face with her hands.

"Why, Ida! what is the matter?" Angela threw down her book and flew to
the side of the lounge.

"I can't tell you--don't ask me," said Ida, in a smothered voice.

"Is your Aunt Stina ill?"

"Oh, no; it isn't that. It is only-- Oh, Angela, I have been so
ungrateful, so unkind; I--" she broke off, sobbing, the letter crushed
in her hand.

"In what way have you been ungrateful and unkind? I don't understand you
at all. In fact, Ida, you're not at all like you were last spring. I
have been noticing it ever since you came here to visit us. I don't know
how to describe it; but you're altogether changed!"

Ida sobbed on. It was that first page of her Aunt Stina's letter which
had affected her so powerfully. It ran as follows:

     "I must decline to accept your thanks for the box you received
     early in July. I do not deserve any credit whatever. Your sister
     wrote me that you needed the dress, and enclosed thirty dollars
     from your Aunt Patty, which I was directed to spend for you as I
     saw fit. Cynthia requested me not to write you that they had
     arranged the surprise for you. I suppose they did not wish you to
     be burdened with a debt of gratitude. But after this length of time
     it can do no harm for you to learn that your Aunt Patty and not I
     bore the expense of your outfit for Mrs. Lennox's lawn party."

So that was how Aunt Patty had spent the money she had received for the
yellow heifer. What wonder that Ida, remembering what she had said about
her aunt's shabby clothes, should be overwhelmed with contrition now?

"Ida," said Angela, after regarding her friend in silence a few moments,
"I do believe you caught the fever from that woman tramp you insisted
on taking into Edgerton."

"I deserve to be punished in some way," said Ida. "Not for my interest
in that poor sick woman," she added, as Angela stared at her with an
expression of surprise, "but for various offences. I have been selfish,
inconsiderate, deceitful, and unkind."

"Ida, you are certainly going to be ill," said Angela. "I never heard
you talk that way before."

Angela's supposition proved correct. By night Ida had a high fever, and
the pains in her limbs had grown very much worse.

Doctor Stone was sent for, and pronounced her sickening with scarletina.

Soon after he had made his visit Ida fell asleep, and dozed at intervals
all night. At about eight o'clock she woke from a longer nap than usual.
The sun was shining in between the slats of the closed blinds, but the
house seemed strangely still. She listened intently, but could hear no
one stirring, no sound of voices; only the sullen roar of the mighty
ocean.

Her throat was parched; her blood seemed to course through her veins
like liquid fire.

"Oh, if I only had a drink of water; how good it would feel," she said
aloud.

As she spoke, a portly figure rose slowly from a seat by one of the
windows. It was Old Dinah, the black cook Mrs. Leverton employed every
summer.

"Dinah'll get yo' the water, honey," she said.

"Dinah!" exclaimed Ida. "Why, what are you doing up here?"

"I's nursin' yo', honey, de bes' I knows how. De doctor, he done tole me
de directions."

"But where are Angela and Mrs. Leverton, and why is the house so still?"

"Dey's all gone, my lamb. Dey cl'ared outer heah early dis mawnin'. Miss
Angela, she didn't give her mammy no res' after she done knowed yo' had
de fever. Dey lef' me ter take keer ob yo' till yo' aunt git heah. Dey
done sent er telegraph fo' her las' ebenin'."

Ida's first feeling at finding herself thus deserted was one of poignant
humiliation and pain, but like balm to her wounded spirit came the
thought that Aunt Patty would soon be with her--the dear Aunt Patty whom
she had never known how to value until lately. Oh, how she longed to see
that kind face, to feel those strong, tender arms about her; to bear the
gentle loving voice which she had never heard utter one unkind or
impatient word to any one!

"I will tell her how sorry I am that I ever hurt and grieved her,"
thought Ida. "I will never again be too proud and stubborn to confess my
faults, and ask pardon of those that love me."

But when Aunt Patty arrived at Rocky Beach--having travelled as fast as
steam and stage could bring her--Ida was delirious, and did not
recognize her.

The tears coursed down the old woman's cheeks as she stood beside the
bed, watching the restless movements of the pretty young head, shorn of
all its golden locks; listening to the whispering voice as it babbled
incoherently of Cynthia, the farm, Mrs. Lennox, Angela, and a hundred
other persons and things.

"She will require the most careful and assiduous nursing," said the
doctor. "Only that can pull her safely through."

"She shall have it," answered Aunt Patty. "I'll take her back as well as
ever to the old farm six weeks from now, please God."

The crisis of the fever came on the ninth day. Dr. Stone came early, and
staid until midnight. Then he left Ida sleeping quietly, the flush gone
from her thin cheeks, her breath coming regularly.

"She will live," he said, as he parted with Aunt Patty outside, under
the quiet stars. "All danger is over now, I believe."

It was several days, however, before Ida knew who it was who bent over
her so lovingly, who soothed and tended her with all a mother's care,
whose kindly hands bathed her fevered face, whose feet were ever ready
to move at the least need.

A week later, however, Ida was able to sit up, and the healthy color was
stealing into her pale cheeks. She enjoyed sitting by the open window,
where she could watch the restless ocean. Mrs. Leverton had written that
they must stay in the cottage until Ida was entirely well. Old Dinah
kept house for them, and had become devoted to Aunt Patty.

"Yo' aunt ain't nuffin' on fash'nable style," she confided to Ida, "but
she's a bawn lady, sho's de worl'. She doan nebbah hector nobody."

"I think you'll be able to travel by Saturday, Ida," Aunt Patty said one
day. "Doctor Stone thinks there wouldn't be any risk now in your
undertaking the journey."

"And, oh, how glad I will be to get home again," said Ida.

"Does it really seem like home, dear?"

"Yes, Aunt Patty. A better home than I deserve, and I can't share it
again with you and Cynthia until I have told you something."

Aunt Patty drew near the chair in which Ida sat, and, standing at the
back of it, put both arms around her. She could feel that Ida trembled a
little.

"Of course you'll forgive me," went on Ida, "for you are so good, you
could never feel harshly toward any one, however great the provocation.
I did many unkind and even cruel things when I was at the farm this
summer, Aunt Patty. When I think of them I don't understand how I
_could_ have acted so. I know it would be impossible for me to do such
things now."

"You have had a change of heart, Ida."

"Oh, Aunt Patty, I hope so. There was need of a change. I can look back
and see it now, though I used to think myself almost perfection."

"And now?"

"I see all my faults," said Ida, "and I realize how patient, generous,
and forgiving you and Cynthia were all those unhappy weeks. Aunt Patty,
one of the things I must tell you is that I deceived Cynthia about that
lawn party. Mrs. Lennox _did_ invite her."

"She knew that, dear."

"Knew that she was invited? Oh, Aunt Patty!"

"Yes; you see, I felt sure Mrs. Lennox must have intended to invite you
both, and as Cynthia was so terribly hurt and disappointed, what did I
do but go straight to Mrs. Lennox and ask her about it. She said of
course Cynthy was to come, and she would depend on seein' her; that she
was so sorry her invitation had not been understood."

"And you told Cynthia?"

"Yes; but not meaning any harm to you, Ida. I never thought but what you
had made a mistake, and as you seemed a little unhappy ever since Mrs.
Lennox had called. I made sure you were grievin' because Cynthy wasn't
to go with you."

"Oh, how I wish it _had_ been a mistake," said Ida; "but it was
deliberate deceit. I knew Cynthia had no gown fit for such an occasion,
and I thought I might be mortified before Angela Leverton."

"Cynthy saw just how it was," said Aunt Patty. "She met me at the gate,
and when I told her what Mrs. Lennox had said, she knew that it wasn't a
mistake at all."

"She was very forgiving." Ida sighed heavily. "I felt
conscience-stricken when I saw that she was so bitterly disappointed.
And then think of how much _you_ have to forgive me. Do you remember
that day I was in the carriage with Angela, and you were coming from the
village with that big box in your arms? Oh, Aunt Patty! to think I was
so mean as to pretend I didn't know you! It makes me wretched now just
to think of it."

"There, there!" said Aunt Patty, who could not restrain her own tears.
"It doesn't matter now, dearie. We will forget all about it."


CHAPTER IX.

A few days later Ida was once more back at the old farm; and how
different now did everything look to her. The days of grumbling and
complaint were past forever. She was no longer annoyed by her old aunt's
unwitting offences against etiquette; and she found a new and strange
pleasure in simple things which she had once regarded with indifference
or aversion. She fed the fowls, learned to harness the old horse, and
insisted on helping with the work of the dairy. And how proud she was of
her first pat of delicious butter!

"It really seems a pity to eat it," she said, as she exhibited it in
triumph to Aunt Patty.

One day she took the horse and light wagon and drove to Bell's Falls.
She said she had some shopping to do there, and several errands to which
she must attend.

"One of them is a commission from Doctor Stone," she said, trying not to
smile, but failing signally.

Lately she had received several letters from the old doctor, but she
never read them to her aunt and sister.

"Some day you may read them," she said to Aunt Patty, "but not now.
Doctor Stone and I have a secret which you and Cynthia are not to know
just yet."

"It seems to make you very happy, whatever it is," said Cynthia.

"Well, I am more anxious than happy just now," returned Ida. "But I
can't explain why."

About a week after her trip to Bell's Falls, Ida entered the farm-house
kitchen late one afternoon with two letters in her hand. Her face was
glowing from her brisk walk to and from the village post-office, and her
bright eyes were dancing in anticipation of some rare enjoyment.

"One of those letters for me?" asked Cynthia, who was busy at a table
making rolls for supper.

"No; both for me," answered her sister, "and great news in both. One is
from Aunt Stina, who says she will be home by the 1st of November, and
wants me to be ready to live with her again."

"Oh, Ida!"

It was a simultaneous exclamation from Aunt Patty and Cynthia. They both
looked blank, and Cynthia dropped her rolling-pin and sat down in the
nearest chair, as if she felt suddenly weak.

Ida laughed. She looked wonderfully radiant and happy. "Calm
yourselves," she said. "I have other plans in my head. Listen to this."
She tossed Aunt Stina's letter into the wood-box back of the stove, and
opened the other--a business document--which announced that Miss Ida
Worley had been appointed a teacher in the grammar school at Bell's
Falls at a salary of seven hundred and fifty dollars per annum, her
duties to begin the following Monday. "And as Bell's Falls is only
fifteen miles off, I can come home every Friday night," said Ida.

"How'd you ever get the place?" asked Cynthia, when she and Aunt Patty
had exhausted their vocabulary of exclamations of delight and
astonishment.

"Through Doctor Stone's influence. He knows all three of the trustees.
Dear old man! He was so ready to help me!"

"Aunt Stina will be dreadfully disappointed that she isn't to have you
again, Ida."

"Perhaps so, just at first. But she will hire a companion--some one who
will suit her much better than I. She won't approve of my teaching, and
will wonder that I prefer it to a life of idleness in her house. But I
am longing to feel that I am of some use in the world--not a drone in
the hive."

"You dear child!" said Aunt Patty. "Your kind and unselfish act in
helping that poor fever-stricken woman has brought a great reward. Had
you passed her by you would never have known Doctor Stone, and wouldn't
now have a chance to show what a busy bee you can become."

"My first month's salary shall be spent in fitting out my dear Aunt
Patty with everything she needs in the way of comfortable dress," said
Ida, with her arms around her aunt's waist, "and the month after that
every cent shall go to Cynthia. Oh, I can hardly wait to begin! How
thankful I am that I came here last June. It was the beginning of a new
life. And to think how I mourned and made myself utterly miserable
because I couldn't go abroad with Aunt Stina!"

Cynthia's plain little face fairly beamed with joy. "And now Aunt Stina
is never to have you again," she said.

"Never again! I belong now to you and Aunt Patty."

THE END.




THE CAPTURE OF THE SLAVER.

BY AN OLD SHIPMASTER.


I had run away to sea, and was serving as cabin-boy on the _Flying
Scud_. But by the time we got to Cienfuegos, Cuba, I had suffered so
much from ill-treatment, that I resolved to desert before the ship
sailed. I had an afternoon ashore, and while amusing myself with the
sights I went into a restaurant for dinner.

At a table opposite mine was a fine-looking sailorly man, dressed in a
white duck suit and a broad-brimmed Panama hat. While he sipped his
coffee, and lazily smoked his long, black Cuban cigar, he appeared to
take considerable notice of me. When I was ready to depart he called me
to him, and asked the name of the ship I belonged to, the treatment and
wages I received, and so on. He seemed so friendly and interested that I
made free to tell him of my troubles, and stated that I longed for the
termination of the voyage. At this he said:

"It seems, my boy, that Providence has sent me to deliver you. I am
Captain of a fine ship, and am in need of a cabin-boy on account of mine
having met with an accident that will keep him on shore for some time.
What do you say to shipping with me? I will promise you good treatment
and much better wages than the _Flying Scud_ pays you."

Here was a golden avenue of escape for me. I was young and trustful, and
Captain Ward of the _Dragon_--for such he told me were the names of
himself and vessel--seemed so sympathetic and kindly that I gladly
signified my willingness to desert to him.

"Very well," he answered, seemingly well pleased; "I am going on board
now, for we are to sail immediately, and you can come right along with
me."

As we made our way to the landing-stage through the fast growing
darkness, Captain Ward kept up an easy, friendly flow of talk, and by
the time that we were seated in the handsome long boat belonging to the
_Dragon_ I had, in the impulsiveness of youth, become strongly attached
to him. When we reached the latter vessel it was too dark to observe
anything more about her than the fact that she was fore-and-aft rigged,
with a long yard on her foremast for bending a big square sail to when
running before the wind, and had a broad, clean sweep of deck, with high
bulwarks, through whose port-holes several cannon looked out. The
Captain was received at the gangway by his chief mate, to whom I was
pointed out with the half-laughing remark, "this is our new cabin-boy,
who had the good taste to prefer the _Dragon_ to the big ship over
yonder." I went below with him, and he pointed out a tidy little
state-room, which he told me I was to occupy, and said that whatever
clothes I might need would be supplied to me out of the stock kept in
the slop-chest. Immediately after this Captain Ward went on deck, and we
lifted the anchor and put to sea.

Well, to make a shorter story of it, I will explain right here that I
soon learned I had shipped on board of the most notorious slaver in the
trade, and that she was commanded by a man who was acknowledged to have
no rival in the way of daring and success. I heard some time later that
he had been a buccaneer in the Gulf of Mexico before going into the
slave trade, and that the _Dragon_ had once flown from her masthead the
fearful black flag. All this may have been, and probably was true; but
this I claim freely, that during the month that I served on board I
received the kindest treatment from him. It fretted me, however, to
think of serving on such a vessel, and I determined to leave as soon as
we returned to Cuba. But I was not to wait even that length of time, as
you will soon learn.

Several days later, in a river on the African coast, we loaded the
_Dragon_ with four hundred poor wretches, who had been captured to serve
as slaves to the civilized Christian white men across the wide
Atlantic. Our lading had been much hurried, owing to a report that the
American man-of-war _Dale_ had been seen cruising off the mouth of the
river the day before we arrived. Her cutters had a habit very
distasteful to the slave-traders of pulling up the river at unexpected
times in search of contraband cargoes. The penalty that the officers and
crews of slave-ships were obliged to pay in the way of death or lengthy
imprisonment, and the confiscation of their vessel and effects, often
drove the slavers to open warfare with the naval forces when in tight
corners. If they were captured, after warlike resistance or with slaves
on board, they were considered as pirates, and suffered accordingly.

The slaves had been fed and chained securely between decks, and
everything made ready for slipping out to sea by sunset, as the lookout
reported the coast clear; but Captain Ward waited until the off-shore
wind began to blow, about eight o'clock, before getting up his anchor.
At that time, under the jib and mainsail, the _Dragon_ commenced to work
slowly down the river, the <DW64> pilot standing on the forecastle and
conning the vessel through the channel. We had almost reached the mouth
of the stream. I heard the Captain say to his mate that by daylight the
land would be leagues astern, and all danger from station cruisers would
be at an end.

Just as we approached the last turn, where the river narrowed to about
one hundred feet, the _Dragon_ stopped suddenly, brought up against a
stout hawser stretched from tree to tree on either bank, then swung
around until she lay directly across the stream, and at the same instant
two boats dashed alongside filled with naval sailors, who were prepared
to sweep down all resistance with their cutlasses, drove the crew into
the forecastle, and secured the door. I had been standing on the
quarter-deck when the schooner was captured, and as the men-of-war's men
forced the Captain and mate below the former picked me up in passing and
carried me into the cabin with him. No sooner had we entered this than
the companion-way slide was pulled over and we were prisoners, while
overhead sounded the tramp of many feet as the sails were lowered and
the vessel brought to an anchor.

"Quick, open one of the stern-ports!" said the Captain to the mate; then
he ran into his room, from which he reappeared almost immediately and
thrust a sheet of paper into my hand, exclaiming, "Show this to the
naval officer when he comes below."

In another instant he and the mate had pulled off their shoes and
clothes and slipped noiselessly into the dark flowing river through the
open port. I entered the master's berth, in which a candle-lamp was
burning, and looked at the paper that the Captain had given me. It read:

     "My cabin-boy was innocent of the character of the _Dragon_ when he
     signed articles.

  "ROLAND WARD, Master."

Slaver, pirate, or any other hard name you may call him, there was
something noble in the man who could think of others at such a time, and
sacrifice even a few precious, fleeting moments to insure the safety of
a poor little cabin-boy.

A few minutes later a naval officer, followed by several blue-jackets
well armed, descended the companion-way and asked for the Captain. In
order to gain time for the two men, whom I knew to be at that instant
swimming for their lives, I handed him the note. He glanced over it,
thrust it in his pocket, and exclaimed:

"This will keep for the present. Where is the Captain?"

I answered that he was not in the cabin.

[Illustration: "WHERE IS THE CAPTAIN?" HE REPEATED, IMPATIENTLY.]

"Where is the Captain?" he repeated, impatiently.

I knew that the swimmers must have reached shore, and were safe from
pursuit in the darkness of the night, so I pointed to the open port. The
officer stamped his foot in rage, to think that he should have been
outwitted so cleverly, and ran up to the deck, where I heard him
shouting to burn a blue light, and for some of his men to tumble into
the boats and pull about in search of the escaping slavers.

The seamen had their trouble for nothing, as the Captain and mate
succeeded in making their way back into the country, where they remained
in hiding until they found an opportunity of getting back to Cuba.

During the next day the _Dale_ made her appearance, and received the
transfer of the prisoners. Although I was sent with them, the Captain's
note was accepted as proof of my innocence, and I was restored to
liberty and made a messenger-boy on board the man-of-war, in which
capacity I served until the _Dale_ was relieved by the sloop-of-war
_Vincennes_, and returned to the United States a few months later.

The lieutenant who had been left in ambush and who had captured the
slaver was placed on board of her in command, and she was afterwards
employed successfully as a decoy for bringing a number of other
slave-ships within the clutches of Uncle Sam's officers.

My advent in the village was all that I could have wished for. The local
paper published my picture in man-of-war uniform, together with a
history of my voyage; and I was heroized by the girls, and looked upon
with sufficient admiration and burning jealousy on the part of my former
school-fellows to make even my cup of satisfaction and happiness full to
the brim.




STORIES OF PRESENCE OF MIND.

IN REPORTING THE "VICTORIA" DISASTER.

BY DAVID GRAHAM PHILLIPS.


The newsman at Piccadilly and St. James's Street had his bill of news
wares pasted on the pavement. Even he who ran by means of a swift
hansom-cab might read the huge black letters. There was but one article
on the bill. Black type, three inches long, shouted:

HORRIBLE DISASTER!

H.M.S. "VICTORIA" RAMMED AND SUNK!

FOUR HUNDRED LIVES LOST!

As Fabian Wendell, London correspondent of the New York _Intelligence_,
and his friend Carter, just from New York, were whirled out of St.
James's Street into Piccadilly, Wendell's eye caught the announcement.
He lifted the trap in the top of the cab and told cabby to pull into the
pavement and hail the newsman.

[Illustration: "ALL THE PAPERS," SAID WENDELL.]

"All the papers," said Wendell, and straightway had the afternoon
rainbow--the pink _Star_, the yellow _Globe_, the white _Pall Mall_, the
pale gray _Standard_, and the green _Westminster_.

"What is the matter?" asked Carter.

"Great news," replied Wendell, opening the _Pall Mall_, and pointing to
a "scare head" half a column long. Under the head-lines was this short
despatch:

     TRIPOLI, _June_ 23d.--H.M.S. _Camperdown_ rammed H.M.S. _Victoria_
     yesterday five miles out at sea. The _Victoria_ sank at once.
     Rear-Admiral Tryon, most of his officers, and over three hundred
     men were lost.

"The Mediterranean fleet," went on Wendell, talking to arrange his
thoughts rather than to inform his friend, "has been cruising in the
Levant. _Victoria_ was the biggest and most formidable battle-ship in
the world. _Camperdown_ is almost as big. Tripoli is on the north coast
of Africa--"

"No," interrupted Carter, who was looking at the _Standard_. "This paper
says it is Tripoli, on the coast of Asia Minor."

"That's bad--small place--poor telegraph," Wendell was muttering, his
forehead wrinkled so that it suggested sixty rather than twenty-three.
Up went the trap in the top of the cab. "Drive to the Eastern Telegraph
Company, Old Broad Street. And you get an extra fare if you do it
quickly."

"What are you going to do there?" Carter inquired, as the cab began a
mad dash down St. James's Street on its way to the City and Old Broad
Street.

"Why, a very simple thing. I'm going to try to get a full account of
this disaster, and print it in New York before an account is printed in
England. Tripoli is miles away from nowhere at all. These English papers
are very slow. I propose to show them what American enterprise is."

"But they are sure to be first with such a story as this, about their
own navy. You have no correspondent there."

"Neither have they. I have a scheme, and the beauty of it is that even
if these English fellows think of it they will dismiss it without a
trial as too absurd."

"Then you admit there is practically no chance?"

"Chance? I don't admit that there is such a thing as chance. I know that
it is my duty to do something. This is the only thing I can think of.
The others will be hopeless and will do nothing."

At the Eastern Telegraph Building Wendell stopped in the office on the
first floor long enough to write this despatch:

     To the telegraph agent, Tripoli, Syria.--The New York
     _Intelligence_ will pay the telegraph tolls and £200 ($1000) for
     two thousand words full describing the _Victoria_ disaster. Send at
     once to Wendell, London.

Then he went up stairs, straight to the general manager. That important
person read the despatch with increasing derision, which he did not take
the trouble to conceal.

"The rate from Tripoli to London is a shilling a word," he said. "Two
thousand words will cost you a hundred pounds, five hundred dollars. The
operator or agent at Tripoli is an ignorant Turk, who, without doubt,
knows not a word of English. Tripoli is on the Turkish government lines,
and we cannot send the money to him to pay for the despatch. He never
heard of the New York _Intelligence_. You practically ask him to spend a
hundred pounds with no prospect of ever seeing it again."

"Very true," said Wendell, and he took the despatch and added to it.
"Will start money as soon as despatch is received." Then he gave it back
to the manager, saying: "No harm to try. If I fail, I shall be out only
the eleven dollars this telegram will cost me. If I win--"

He laughed, and the manager relented. "I'll mark it so that it shall be
rushed through, and I'll add my own guarantee," he said, with abrupt
courtesy. "As soon as an answer comes, if an answer does come, I'll see
that you get it."

Wendell thanked him, and went away with Carter. He spent the rest of the
day getting and sending all he could find bearing in any way upon the
disaster. All England was waiting for the fuller news. The Admiralty and
the Foreign Office were besieged by crowds of those who had relatives or
friends in the fleet. But no further news came. The Saturday morning
papers had nothing but rumors. Even the long reach of the Times could
not get at that obscure Syrian village.

Wendell watched impatiently for the early editions of the Saturday
afternoon papers. There was still no story. The whole civilized world
was waiting. Carter was despondent over the failure of Wendell's scheme,
and Wendell had almost ceased to hope. The Sunday morning papers had
nothing. Sunday afternoon came a telegram in an Eastern Telegraph
envelope. Wendell's hands trembled as he read:

     Tripoli, Syria.--Send soon as can raise money. Old subscriber
     _Intelligence_.

  HARRIS.

Wendell laughed hysterically as he gave it to Carter, who was really
faint with excitement. "The manager said they don't know the
_Intelligence_ in Syria," he laughed, as Carter was reading and
rereading. "I wonder what he will think of that?" And he hurried away a
cheering telegram to the unknown Harris, who was helping him to beat the
world on the news story.

"If Monday morning's papers pass it," he went on, "we're safe. But
that's a slim chance."

He waited up until six o'clock Monday morning to see. The only further
news was a partial list of the saved, and a formal announcement from the
Commander of _Camperdown_ that the disaster had happened. To Wendell
this fortune seemed incredible.

       *       *       *       *       *

Two thousand miles away, Harris, a medical missionary at Tripoli, was in
a more agitated state than was Wendell. He was the only English-speaking
person in that squalid little Asiatic port. He came from Kentucky, and
got his news of America through the weekly edition of the
_Intelligence_, for which he was a subscriber. The day after Wendell
sent his despatch he was passing the telegraph office. Abdallah Gazi,
the Turkish operator, called him in, and asked him to translate it. As
Harris read it, he saw the whole situation.

Abdallah had been the despair of the survivors of the disaster. As he
hated the English, he had pretended to be more stupid than he really
was. Harris was fired with ambition to help the paper he took, published
by his countrymen, in his native land. But to get together the five
hundred dollars necessary was no easy thing in that miserably poor
village. He gave no heed to the furious Syrian sun; he toiled and
wrestled with friends and acquaintances. By Monday afternoon he had the
money, and began dictating two thousand English words, letter by letter,
to the operator, who spoke only Arabic. It was a long and dreary task,
and not until midnight was it done.

       *       *       *       *       *

The first sheet of the great special, telling the pitiful story of
Tryon's mistake, and its horrible result, was in Wendell's hands at five
o'clock that Monday afternoon. Thanks to the difference of time, the
last sheet reached him at ten o'clock, two hours earlier than the time
at which Harris sent it. Wendell had the wires to New York open, and had
warned the _Intelligence_ of what was coming. As New York is five hours
earlier than London, the editor of the _Intelligence_ was reading the
great beat on all the newspapers in the world at half past six o'clock.
At seven an extra afternoon edition of the _Evening Intelligence_ was on
the streets of New York.

Next morning Wendell slept late. When his man awakened him, he was
straightway at the bundle of morning papers. Every great London daily
had its first story of the _Victoria_ disaster, in large type, with huge
head-lines. The eager British people had the news at last. But the date
line of the story was not Tripoli. Every despatch began: "New York, June
26th.--The _Intelligence_ has the following special from Tripoli."

"I wish I had been in the editorial rooms of the great London _Times_
when that special from New York came," said Fabian Wendell.




THE LAST LITTLE LEAF.


  The last little leaf has fluttered down,
  The trees are standing all bare and brown;

  But the winter long, if you could see,
  There are wee little elves in each brown tree

  Spinning the dress, so green and fair,
  That will one day wave in the soft spring air.

  Good-by, little leaf; you did your best;
  So curl away, it is time to rest.

  M. E. S.




HOW TO ENTER THE ARMY.

BY GENERAL O. O. HOWARD, U.S.A.

(_In Two Papers._)

I.--ENLISTMENT.

THE PREPARATION NEEDED.


Our boys are familiar with the United States flag, with its historic
stars and stripes, as it floats over public buildings and is carried in
street parades. How many know it is used for a sign or a sign-board?
Passing through any one of our large cities, we often see the flag
drooping from a protruding staff over a common office doorway.
Considering what it means, we go up to the door, and see on one side a
flaming poster printed in colors, surmounted by a picture of many
soldiers standing well grouped, in their bright attractive uniforms. On
reading we find this to be an advertisement or an invitation on the part
of the United States government to all able-bodied men so desiring to
join the ranks of the army as private soldiers. It states that the man
so volunteering to serve his government in this capacity will be well
clothed, fed, and, besides, receive $13 per month in cash, less certain
small sums retained from time to time by the government to be
surrendered to the soldier upon his discharge from service. He must
agree to serve faithfully, take an oath of fidelity to the United
States, and to obey all superior officers for a period of three years.
It was formerly five years. While reading the poster we have noticed,
either leaning in the doorway or pacing up and down with erect carriage,
in a neat tight-fitting blue uniform, a man who, upon being accosted,
replies that he is a private, or, if we noticed a V-shaped braid upon
his arm, a sergeant, belonging to some regiment of the army stationed at
a distance. He is here to get men to enlist, and go back with him to his
regiment and become soldiers. He enlarges upon the pleasures of the
service--if cavalry, the riding, the scouting, the excitements of
chasing Indians; if infantry, the enjoyments of camp life, the practice
marches, the Indian campaigns, where deeds of gallantry and brave acts
will be rewarded by medals and certificates of honor; if artillery, the
use of heavy ordnance in defending our sea-coasts, with their pleasant
stations.

In glowing terms he thus pictures to a young man the life of a soldier,
such as we are familiar with in history. But to have him know more fully
he invites him to go into a room within, called a Recruiting Office. On
coming in, his soldier friend touches his cap to a gentleman sitting at
a desk writing. He reports that his companion is desirous of entering
the army. This gentleman then, in a brisk businesslike way, which proves
him to be an officer accustomed to command, draws from the young man an
account of his past life, finds out his habits, his age, and then
determines from his answers whether or not he would make a good soldier.
He also shows him that soldiering is not all play, pomp, and ceremony,
but work like that in any other profession, that implicit obedience is
necessary, and willingness to do well the work in hand. Only in such a
way could he expect to rise in the estimation of his superiors in rank
and obtain promotion and reward. The officer satisfies himself that his
candidate is a good one, filling the requirements of law as to a good
moral character, able to read and write, and within the ages of sixteen
and thirty-five; or, if under twenty-one, that he has his parents' or
guardians' consent; then he will administer to him the oath of
allegiance to the United States. Now, after signing a contract to serve
the United States government as a soldier for the required period, our
young civilian has become a recruit. Before, however, he is finally
admitted, he must undergo a careful physical examination, made by a
surgeon. The accepted recruit has his choice of entering the artillery,
the cavalry, or the infantry.

The foregoing is all the preparation needed, but if our recruit is
anxious to advance beyond the position of a private soldier, and to fill
places of responsibility, it is needless to say he must prepare himself.


HIS CHANCES FOR ADVANCEMENT.

His first duty is to learn thoroughly his work as a private. Having done
that well, he is without doubt prepared to teach others the same work.
The officers are always watching for bright and intelligent men, and so
will recommend for the next grade, and his captain will secure for him
the appointment as corporal. Many men have not had the advantages of
others before they enter the ranks, and for them to have the same
chances of promotion post-schools are provided, each with a competent
instructor, and under the charge of a commissioned officer.

On becoming a corporal some increase of responsibility is given our
young soldier. He must wear as an indication of his rank two V-shaped
stripes upon his arms and a narrow one down each trousers leg, of the
color of the service insignia--red for artillery, yellow for cavalry,
white for infantry. Instead of being conducted about in ranks, he now
stands in line at the right end of his squad of eight men; when his
squad is separate he is in command. He no longer walks post as sentry,
but has charge of a relief, _i. e._, one of the divisions of a guard.
The men of a relief all walk post at the same time. He must put his men
on their posts as sentries, and stay awake and answer their calls so
long as they are there. Many other duties, clerical, police, and
provost, are given corporals, according to their ability.

Vacancies constantly occur in the higher positions, and the custom is to
fill them from the next lower rank. If our corporal has shown his
ability to command firmly but in a manner pleasant to his associates
while in his present grade, his chances are the best to be recommended
for an appointment as a sergeant by the captain of his company. The
corporal receives $15 and a sergeant $18 per month in the artillery,
cavalry, and infantry.

A sergeant's command is double that of a corporal, and on guard he
divides his time in charge of the guard-house with another sergeant
while overseeing the corporals and their reliefs. On drill he is over a
section of two squads; in barracks he has charge of one sleeping-room;
must keep order and enforce discipline. Thus still more ability to
command other men must be shown. Corporals and sergeants are called
"non-commissioned officers," because they receive a warrant from their
colonel countersigned by the adjutant as authority of rank, in place of
a commission from the President of the United States.

The labors of soldiers, privates, corporals, or sergeants are not
usually arduous, except in case of war or other like emergency. Their
daily routine is no more monotonous than men's ordinary pursuits in
civil life, with the one exception that they are always under the
command of others; but this need not trouble them; for good soldiers
there is responsibility enough, according to the position they hold.
Their time is pretty well occupied; for there are generally two drills a
day; care of their room and equipments; in the cavalry, grooming their
horses twice a day; also guard duty for a night and day at least once a
week. In the artillery there is now the study of the mechanism of modern
heavy guns--their loading; their firing by mechanical means and by
electricity. If we think of the emergency calls upon the soldier--for
example, during riots, insurrections, and such like--we find the service
of enough variety and interest for the average man. Besides the
positions of corporal and sergeant which I have mentioned, many other
places of higher pay are open to the soldier, such as trumpeter at $14
per month; wagoner, artificer, blacksmith, and farrier or saddler, at
$15.

The Engineer and Ordnance Corps also offer higher pay, because of the
knowledge required to build forts, bridges, and make ammunition and
prepare projectiles. Privates of engineers receive $17; corporals, $20;
sergeants, $34 per month. The Signal Corps sergeants have, besides their
duties as experts in signalling, to be telegraph operators; they receive
$45. To each company there is a first sergeant, who is the highest
non-commissioned officer. He has direct charge of the men, and keeps all
company records. He receives $25 per month. All pay in the army is
increased from the third year of enlistment; _i. e._, the longer a man
shall be a soldier, the more pay he will have a year.

In the regiment there are chief trumpeters, musicians, and saddlers,
rated at $22 per month; chief musicians at $60--these are band-leaders.
The sergeant-major, who has charge of regimental papers,
quartermaster-sergeant, who has the care of all government property in
the regiment, at $23; the sergeant-major and quartermaster-sergeant of
engineers at $36.

Each post has an ordnance sergeant, commissary sergeant, and
quartermaster sergeant at $34. Then in the Hospital Corps the stewards
rate at $45. The hospital steward is really an apothecary. Acting
hospital stewards are at $25, and attendants at $18.

These positions, except the musicians, are all filled from the ranks,
according to fitness and ability. The highest goal to be reached by a
soldier is a commission from the President as a second lieutenant in the
army.

To obtain such a commission one must first become a corporal or
sergeant, and have served three years. Then he has to prove himself a
gentleman and good soldier to the satisfaction of his captain, whereupon
by a mark on the sleeve he will be known as a candidate for a
commission. He will have time allowed him to study, and he must prepare
himself thoroughly in all common-school branches, including history,
especially that of our own country. The first step is to receive the
recommendation of his captain; next that of his colonel; and then of his
department commander, when the commanding general at Washington will
order him before a preliminary board of officers to convene near his
station. This board will examine him more especially as to his knowledge
of the duties of a soldier and officer. If he shall pass that
satisfactorily he will be sent to Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, for final
examination--a more thorough one in all branches, and before a board of
four officers, two of whom must be surgeons. If successful in that and
in a physical examination by the surgeons, his name will be sent to
Washington with recommendation by the Examining Board that he be
appointed a second lieutenant of artillery, cavalry, or infantry,
according to the decision of the board, recommending him for that branch
of the service for which he is best fitted. All appointees of late have
gone either into the cavalry or infantry.

(_Second Paper will appear in No. 843._)




[Illustration]

TABLEAUX VIVANTS.

BY EMMA J. GRAY.


There is nothing much more entertaining than getting up tableaux, the
fun compensating for all the work and study.

In the November number of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, in the year 1894, there
is an article explaining the stage in the parlor, with all the
paraphernalia of curtain, foot-lights, and scenery. Therefore the
present article will omit mechanical directions; excepting to state that
for those who will not undertake tableaux on such an elaborate scale,
very desirable effect may be produced by using a drapery of dark green,
red, or brown canton flannel, or shawls concealing the back and sides of
the room. And a curtain may be made to draw in front by suspending it
over a wire or stout cord, provided the cord or wire is fastened taut
and strong. A small curtain of the same color should be hung to conceal
the lights, and also the persons who draw the stage curtain.

The lights should be put at the left, and they should be arranged to
bring out the desired detail. Therefore the placing of them will have to
be tried beforehand. Put some on the floor and others on the top of a
table, and others still higher. A row of wax candles would be better
foot-lights than none at all. Only be careful of draught, and keep from
catching on fire by stretching a stout wire across the stage, two feet
back of the candles, and from this fasten a wire netting directly over
the candles, so as to completely cover the blaze from possible contact
with the curtain, or other inflammable stuff. Put mirrors behind all of
the stage lamps, and also behind the candles; the mirrors act as
reflectors, and heighten the effect. If you cannot provide mirrors, use
tin reflectors.

Before arranging tableaux vivants, ask some older person than yourselves
to take charge. By so doing you will overcome the greatest of all
difficulties, because you have shifted the responsibility. To this
person you can even turn for advice and decision.

The first question to decide is always the character of the tableaux;
whether they are to be of mixed variety, with no special subject in view
but of pretty or amusing entertainment, or whether they are to teach or
illustrate a special theme. The latter is generally preferable, and
always so at the time of a great festival, such as Christmas. This point
settled, the next would naturally be whether the entertainment should be
entirely, or in part, of a religious character. If in part religious, it
would be delightful to show Christmas Carillons, Twelve Chimes,
Christmas to Twelfth Night.

The First Tableau would be entitled the Annunciation, when

  "The angel greets the Virgin mild;
  Hail, Mary, full of grace! thy child
  The Son of God shall be."

This tableau represents an interior: the room has a deep frieze drapery
over the mantel, before which Mary kneels on a low cushion; to her left,
and considerably before her, is a large jardinière filled with ascension
lilies; and directly before her is a table, on which is a roll of
parchment partly unfastened. By the table stands the angel with hand
outstretched towards her.

_Tableau Second_.--The shepherds see the angels bright.

Scene out of doors, with shepherds in their usual costume, each shepherd
holding a crook, while back of them, huddled close together, stand the
herds of sheep. Before the shepherds, and a trifle to their right, is
the angel, with outstretched hand, indicating the way.

_Tableau Third_.--Ye lads and lassies, go fetch ivy, holly, and
mistletoe.

An out-of-door winter scene, showing overturned trees, dried and
leafless branches, frozen streams, and a light snow, while playfully
rushing down the hillside come the gay young people with armfuls of
green branches.

_Tableau Fourth_.--Bringing in the boar's head.

  "Was-haile!
  Bring in, upon his silver tray,
  With minstrelsie
  The boar's head, armed with garlands gay
  And rosemarie."

The jolliest and tallest boy should take this character, and hold the
tray above his head.

If the readers will find the HARPER'S MONTHLY for December, 1880, they
can copy the tableaux with greatest ease.

While these tableaux are shown the poem should be recited in entirety,
and, if thought advisable, more tableaux might be readily added.

Other examples of the religious would be to show an out-of-door winter
scene, with snow-covered hills and leafless tree branches, on which a
little snow has fallen. Towards the front of the stage half a dozen
girls and boys, in gay attire with picturesque wraps and hats, should
stand. They should be naturally grouped; some of the boys should have
their hands in their pockets, others, again, have them drawn under their
short cloaks. It is a cold night, and the young people should indicate
it. While they thus stand an invisible chorus should sing a hymn of the
Nativity. Or, with a similar background, show five girls standing in a
straight line, a tall one in the centre; the two shortest should stand
on each end. The girls should be attired differently, but all in warm
apparel, with fur-edged cloaks or fur garments of any sort; each girl
should have her hands in a muff. Show a quantity of warm color, which
can readily be done by silk mufflers, frocks, ribbons, and feathers.
Back of these girls an invisible chorus must sing a Christmas carol.

A catchy tableau series would be Mother Goose and her children
celebrating Christmas.

_Tableau First_.--Mother Goose in her tall cone-shaped hat, riding on
an enormous goose. Copy hers and all the other costumes from Mother
Goose's book.

_Tableau Second_.--Her children faithfully charactered. Little Jack
Horner should be sitting in a corner, eating his Christmas pie. The King
in his parlor should be dressed to represent a king. Simple Simon should
meet pie-man going to the fair, etc.

_Tableau Third_.--A sleeping apartment, Mother Goose and her family in
bed. Great prominence must be shown to Mother Goose, whose bed is in
front, and near hers some of her more notable children. This scene may
be readily arranged by putting small cots on the stage; the children can
lie down dressed, the coverlets hiding their clothing. Near each bed put
that which would indicate their character, as example, the big pie for
the pie-man.

[Illustration]

_Tableau Fourth_.--Santa Claus at home about time to start. Interior of
a room, simply packed with all sorts of hobby-horses, dolls--big and
little, dressed and undressed--musical birds, woolly sheep, sleighs,
drums, tenpins, everything in the toy line that could be imagined or
described, while in a large easy-chair before the lighted grate-fire
sits old Santa himself, as gray-bearded, fat, and jolly as ever.

_Tableau Fifth_.--Little Bo-Peep fell fast asleep and dreamt--

Show Santa Claus again, this time out-of-doors, on his sled drawn by
swift reindeers; but the reindeers have stopped, for Bo-Peep stands
before them, her shepherd's crook leaning over her shoulder, her sheep
all around, and they, as also Po-Beep, gazing at the presents--sled,
Santa Claus's pack, hat, beard, miniature tree, full stockings, and all.
Bo-Peep wears the regular shepherdess costume, the sheep are toy sheep
on wheels. The bells should jingle loudly until Bo-Peep appears.

_Tableau Sixth_.--The Christmas tree.

A large tree filled with toys; leaning against it is a ladder, which
Mother Goose climbs, and then unfastens the various gifts. Her children
are all grouped around the bottom, and impatiently await the arrival of
their presents.

_Tableau Seventh_.--The Christmas dance.

Mother Goose and her children dance around the Christmas tree. Waltz
music is played; they dance once around, when the curtain is drawn.

_Tableau Eighth_.--Mother Goose's children eating their Christmas
supper. A long table covered with a white cloth, and decorated with
lighted candelabra, flowers, bonbons, fancy cakes, china, silver, and
cut glass. All the children are seated around, Mother Goose at the head,
and to her right her son Jack, then Jack's wife, then a boy, then a
girl, and so on around. Each child is in the act of eating, drinking,
lifting a cup, a candy, or indicating some natural movement at a supper
table; their heads should be turned as though they were in conversation.

_Tableau Ninth_.--Mother Goose and her family in a well-arranged group
now stand and sing a jolly good-night song. This song may be acted by
those on the stage, but the singing is done by an unseen chorus.

Follow this with two tableaux, opposite in meaning.

_Tableau One_.--The empty stocking. A poverty-stricken-looking
room--bare floor, a hard wood chair and table (on the table stand a few
pieces of cheap china), a window with a broken pane, in which a bunch of
paper or canton matting is stuffed to keep out the snow; a small
kerosene lamp, the light from which comes dimly. A poorly clad and as
poorly fed appearing little girl; one of her thin hands rests on the
table, while the other holds an empty stocking, on which the child sadly
gazes.

_Tableau Two_.--Bless you honey-bugs! Yo' feels gay.

This also is a plainly furnished room, but it is trimmed with Christmas
greens, a large star and tree being particularly conspicuous. There are
several <DW52> children running around, some dancing, with toys in one
hand and a full stocking in the other, others taking things off a little
tree, others again eating sugar plums, or striding across the bare door
in eager pursuit of a dropped cornucopia or cinnamon cake. Their
dusky-faced mammies, meanwhile, laugh at them through the half-open
doorway.

And thus tableau might be described after tableau, but a few hints may
be helpful.

Carefully study scenic effect. "How beautiful!" is so often the
exclamation regarding a well-dressed stage, even before any person
appears or one word is spoken. Remember to use harmonizing colors, and
to throw on different- lights. The latter may cost a little
money, but it will repay a hundredfold. A white light, changing to pink,
again to yellow, rose, or green, as the scenery may require. In every
way catch the eye.

Remember, the tableau is but for a minute; let that minute be
perfection.

Sometimes, for example, let a fountain play in the large grounds or
garden. This can be easily arranged by the proper management of a hose.
You can surely place a piece of oil-cloth under the moss over which the
water flows, and have sponges conveniently near.

Be careful to select pretty and noticeable toilettes. If you are taking
the character of a queen at a drawing-room, dress as the queen, not as
her maid; but should you be a maid, wear jaunty, gay attire, and not
costume yourself in a severely cut brown-cloth tailor suit.

Use all the accessories possible--music, song, recitation, as either may
be given off the stage, as an accompaniment to a tableau. Be sure there
is no catch in the stage curtain, and that the prompter understands all
his duties. Every one should be punctual at rehearsals; and the night of
the entertainment all the cast should be ready thirty minutes ahead of
time, as that will prevent worry and nervousness. And if everybody is
calm, and understands his part, there is no question as to success.

The Birds' Christmas Carol would make a very pretty tableau-vivant
evening, and so would any one of the Christmas plays that have appeared
in the ROUND TABLE.

All that is needed on such occasions is care in arranging details, a
little painstaking in making up costumes, so that the colors shall
harmonize one with another, and patience and persistence on the part of
the young actors.




AN UP-TO-DATE SANTA CLAUS.

BY H. G. PAINE.


  When Santa Claus came to town last year,
  His deer,
  'Tis said,
  Struck a live wire and fell down dead.

  Poor Santa felt sad to lose them so,
  I know;
  But he
  Was not of the kind to give up, you see.

  So he rigged up his sleigh like a trolley-car,
  And far
  That night,
  _Viâ_ telegraph wires, he took his flight;

  To each little child in bed
  He sped,
  Nor missed
  A single one of all the list.

  But this year he's going to take in hand
  A brand-
  New way,
  And deliver his goods in a horseless sleigh.




CHRISTMAS IN A GIRLS' SCHOOL A CENTURY AGO.

BY E. IRENÆUS STEVENSON.


A good many of the grandmothers and the mothers of readers of HARPER'S
ROUND TABLE were school-girls at a certain very old school in
Pennsylvania still flourishing to-day--the Bethlehem Female Seminary. It
was begun far back, in 1785, under the charge of the wise and kind
Moravian Church people, who came to our country nearly two hundred years
ago. The girls who were taught in this quiet seminary did not, let us
say eighty years back from to-day, learn many things that nowadays are
part of a girl's course of study. But they were also instructed in some
matters always well to know, such as good manners and gentle behavior,
love of their country and high principles of womanhood, and their life
seems to have been a happy, helpful, and busy one.

A great deal was made in this school of birthdays and holidays.
Particularly was Christmas a notable event, celebrated by teachers and
pupils; for there was not much home going when December came. For weeks
they prepared the feast. The woods were ransacked by special committees
of girls, big and little, aided by some white-capped "Sister" Hübener or
"Sister" Benade. Every room and hall was gradually turned into a bower
of green for the fortnight. The spinning that was left over from the
year's "stint" was hurried to its end, the pupils being allowed regular
"spinning-days," when, in place of books, they sat in rows, with their
wheels whirring away all the morning and afternoon, often a school feast
of "chocolate and pancakes" winding up the evening. Next, the "Sisters"
of the community and the older girls began to arrange an elaborate scene
of the birth of Christ as described in the Gospels, much as in many
Roman Catholic churches it is done to-day. The Virgin and the Child
Jesus, Joseph and the three Wise Men, the Shepherds, the rude
stable--all were imitated by dressed and good-sized figures, with care,
and as tastefully as possible. But no girl was allowed a peep at this
(unless she were helping in preparing it) until Christmas eve. It can be
imagined that curiosity ran in a strong current, among the smaller
scholars especially.

Besides this, a little Christmas play, or rather a dialogue, was often
written expressly for performance more or less in public (to invited
guests, as well as the scholars and teachers), rehearsed and polished to
the utmost, in honor of Christmas. Some of these, many of them written
by a certain clever "Sister" Langard, or by poetical "Sister" Kleist,
are quaint and amusing reading nowadays--not at all like the sort of
"private theatricals" that young ladies' boarding-schools relish in our
time, but they had a beauty of their own not yet vanished. In the great
school--for it frequently had several scores of pupils--the idea of home
life was kept strongly in view, and part of the process was the dividing
of the pupils into groups called "home companies," which entertained
each other, assisted each other, and at Christmas-time stole away to
concoct gifts for each other, to be delivered on Christmas day in the
school-room or hall.

The afternoon before Christmas brought the expected surprises and
pleasures. The patrons of the school, clergy-men, lawyers, and doctors,
and all the honored folk of Bethlehem town, in their best wigs and
finest petticoats, came from far and wide. During the Revolutionary war,
in 1777, it is recorded that "physicians and surgeons and convalescent
officers" were among the company. The Christmas play was played; and
very charming must some of the young speakers in it have been, as they
gravely spoke its sober lines, some of them pretty long ones. The
concert was not less formal nor less enjoyed, and "the newest music by
Herr Mozart or Mr. Cherubini" was played and sung. In the evening came a
meeting in the chapel, at the close of which each girl "under twelve
years of age" was given a burning taper to hold while a Christmas Hymn
was sung. By this time, too, the great mystery of the decorated room was
opened, and all the scholars were invited to admire its wonders. The
morning of Christmas brought the signal for present-making and a general
holiday, on which occasion the ancient school buildings were full of
quiet happiness.

Many famous men in the war and peace of that time were glad to be
honored by invitations to "the Moravian Christmas at Bethlehem." General
Washington, General Lafayette, General Greene (whose daughters were
educated in the school), General Schuyler, Colonel Ethan Allen, Benjamin
Franklin, and scores of other Revolutionary names were always on its
invitation list and more or less regularly expected to be present. And
it is pleasant to think that to-day Christmas comes to the same stanch
old school--not to be celebrated in the same way, but not less honored
within its walls.




[Illustration: THE PUDDING STICK]

     This Department is conducted in the interest of Girls and Young
     Women, and the Editor will be pleased to answer any question on the
     subject so far as possible. Correspondents should address Editor.


All this question of spending and saving money which Edith and Charlotte
ask me to talk about is one that cannot be settled in a few paragraphs.
It is too large. The fact is, we ought to regard money as a talent,
something to be used in a responsible way, and neither wasted nor
hoarded, but handled so as to bring us the best returns in profit and
pleasure.

It is pleasant for a girl to earn money and feel that it is her very
own. Ethel's mother is paying Ethel for teaching her little brother
Eddie to play the piano, and I have no doubt that Ethel earns the money,
for Eddie is a perfect flutter-budget, and does not yet realize the
necessity for careful practice, and so he must be called and seated and
supervised generally, every afternoon, by his young music teacher, who,
being only "sister," and not a rigid disciplinarian with a severe face
and stern manner, has sometimes a rather difficult time of it. When a
young girl can assist her mother in some way, as, for instance, by
becoming her private secretary, and looking after her mother's social
duties, answering notes, taking care of an address list, and in many
ways lightening her mother's burden, she ought to have a little regular
salary, in acknowledgment of her services, if her mother can afford to
give it to her. All daughters, I am sure, are happy to assist their
mothers without payment, but when it can be given, it is a pleasant
arrangement for both sides.

In earning money by the exercise of any art, as, for instance, painting
on china, embroidering on linen, or designing book-covers, a girl's
ambition should be to do the very best and finest work she can. She must
compete with skilled workers, and she must not be satisfied with
slipshod work of her own. Then, whether she be a rich or a poor girl,
she must ask the price given by the best houses, not underselling other
people. For instance, simply because a young girl has a nice home and no
expenses to speak of, and is in want of pin-money, she should not
dispose of a doily worth ten dollars for five, even if the purchaser be
her aunt Mary. She has no right in any case to undersell another girl,
though she may give her work away freely if she chooses.

It may be extravagant for Marjorie to take a street car, when she is
quite able to walk, while it would be quite proper for Elsie to go
delicately to and fro in a carriage. All this depends on circumstances,
and on the margin you can honestly afford for expenses.

When you happen to meet a friend in a public conveyance, you do not pay
her fare, nor does she pay yours. Each person defrays her own expenses.
Never permit chance acquaintances to pay for your railway tickets, nor
to be in any way out of pocket on your account.

[Illustration: Signature]




THE IMP OF THE TELEPHONE.

BY JOHN KENDRICK BANGS.

VI.--THE CIRCUS (_Concluded_).


"Hullo," said Jimmieboy. "Back again?"

"Do I look it?" asked the Imp.

"Yes, I think you do," returned Jimmieboy. "Unless you are your twin
brother; are you your twin brother?"

"No," laughed the Imp, "I am not. I am myself, and I am back again just
as I appear to be, and I've had a real dull time of it since I went away
from you."

"Doing what?" asked Jimmieboy.

"Well, first I had to tell your mother that the butcher couldn't send a
ten-pound turkey, but had two six-pounders for her if she wanted them;
and then I had to tell him for her that he could send mutton instead.
After that I had to blow up the grocer for your father, whose cigars
hadn't come, and then tell your father what wasn't so--that the cigars
hadn't been ordered--for the grocer. After that, just as I was leaving,
the cook came to the 'phone and asked me to tell your Aunt Susan's cook
that her cousin in New York was very ill with a broken wheel on his
truck, and that if she would meet her in town at eleven o'clock they
could go to the matinée together, which she said she would do, and
altogether it has been a very dull twenty minutes for me. Have you
enjoyed yourself?"

"Hugely," said Jimmieboy, "and I hope now that you've come back I
haven't got to stop enjoying myself in the same way. I'm right in the
middle of the Fish Circus."

"Oh, are you," said the Imp, with a smile. "I rather enjoy that myself.
How far have you got?"

"The Shark and the Lobster had just gone off when you came back."

"Good," returned the Imp. "The best part of the performance is yet to
come. Move over there in the chair, and make room for me. There--that's
it. Now let's see what's on next. Oh yes. Here comes the Juggling Clam;
he is delightful. I like him better that way than if he was stewed."

The Book interrupted the Imp at this point, and observed:

  "Now glue your eyes upon the ring,
    And see the Juggling Clam
  Transform a piece of purple string
    Into a pillow-sham.

  "Nor think that when he has done so
    His tricks are seen and done,
  For next he'll turn a jet-black crow
    Into a penny bun.

  "Next from his handsome beaver hat
    He'll take a piece of pie,
  A donkey, and a Maltese cat,
    A green bluebottle fly;

  "A talking doll, a pair of skates,
    A fine apartment-house,
  A pound of sweet imported dates,
    A brace of roasted grouse;

  "And should you not be satisfied
    When he has done all that,
  He'll take whatever you decide
    Out of that beaver hat.

  "And after that he'll lightly spring
    Into the atmosphere,
  And show you how a Clam can sing
    If he but persevere.

  "When he has shown all this to you,
    If you applaud him well
  He'll be so glad he'll show you through
    His handsome pinky shell."

Jimmieboy didn't believe the Clam could do all this, and he said so to
the Imp, but the Imp told him to "wait and see," and when the boy did
wait he certainly did see, for the Clam did everything that was
promised, and when Jimmieboy, just to test the resources of the
wonderful hat, asked the Clam to bring out three dozen jam tarts, the
Clam brought out the three dozen jam tarts--only they were picture jam
tarts, and Jimmieboy could only decide that it was a wonderful
performance, though he would have liked mightily to taste the tarts, and
see if they were as good as they looked.

"What comes next?" queried Jimmieboy, as the Clam bowed himself out of
the ring.

"Listen, and the Book will tell," returned the Imp.

The Book resumed:

  "We now shall have the privilege
    Of witnessing the Whale
  Come forth, and set our teeth on edge
    By standing on his tail.

  "When this is done, he'll open wide
    That wondrous mouth of his,
  And let us see how the inside
    Of such great creatures is;

  "And those who wish to take a trip--
    Like Jonah took one time--
  Can through his mammoth larynx slip
    For one small silver dime.

  "For dollars ten, he'll take you to
    The coast of Labrador,
  The Arctic Ocean he'll go through
    For dollars twenty-four;

  "And should you wish to see the Pole,
    He'll take you safely there,
  If you will pay the usual toll--
    Ten thousand is the fare."

"I'd like to go to the North Pole," said Jimmieboy.

"Got ten thousand dollars in your pocket?" queried the Imp, with a
snicker.

"No; but I've got a dollar in my iron bank," said Jimmieboy; "perhaps
he'd take me for that."

[Illustration: "YOUR EARS WOULD BE FROZEN SOLID."]

"Very likely he would," said the Imp. "These circus fellows will do
almost anything for money; but when he got you there he would tell you
you could stay there until you paid the other $9999; and think how awful
that would be. Why, your ears would be frozen solid inside of four
weeks."

"Is it as cold as that at the Pole?" said Jimmieboy.

"Colder!" ejaculated the Imp. "Why, when I was there once I felt chilly
in spite of my twenty-eight seal-skin sacques and sixty-seven mufflers,
so I decided to build a fire. I got the fagots all ready, lit the match,
and what do you suppose happened?"

"What?" queried Jimmieboy, in a whisper, for he was a little awed by the
Imp's manner. "Wouldn't the match light?"

"Worse than that," replied the Imp. "It lit, but before I could touch it
to the fagots the flame froze!"

Jimmieboy eyed the Imp closely. This seemed to him so like a fairy
story, in which the first half is always untrue and the last half
imaginary, that he did not exactly know whether the Imp meant him to
believe all he said or not. It did him no particular good, though, to
scrutinize the Imp's countenance, for that worthy gave not the slightest
sign that there was any room for doubt as to the truth of this story;
indeed, he continued:

"Why, the last time I went to the North Pole I took forty-seven
thermometers to register the coolth of it, and the mercury not only went
down to the very bottom of every one of them, but went down so quickly
that it burst through the glass bulb that marked 4006 below zero, and
fell eight miles more before it even began to slow up. It was so cold
that some milk I carried in a bottle was frozen so hard that it didn't
thaw out for sixteen months after I got back, although I kept it in
boiling water all the time, and one of the Esquimaux who came up there
in midsummer to shoot polar bears had to send for a plumber after his
return home to thaw out his neck, which had frozen stiff."

"Maybe that is why the whale charges so much to take people there,"
suggested Jimmieboy.

"It is, exactly. There is no risk about it for him, but he has to eat
enough hot coal and other things to warm him up, that really it costs
him nearly as much as he gets to make the trip. I don't believe that he
clears more than half a dollar on the whole thing, even when he is
crowded," said the Imp.

"Crowded?" echoed Jimmieboy. "What do you mean by that?"

"Crowded? Why, crowded is an English word meaning jamful and two more,"
said the Imp.

"But crowded with what?" queried Jimmieboy.

"Why, passengers, of course. What did you suppose? Ink bottles?"

"Then he takes more than one passenger at a time," said Jimmieboy.

"Certainly he does. He'll hold twenty-five boys of your size in comfort,
thirty-five in discomfort, forty-five in an emergency, and fifty at a
pinch," said the Imp. "But see here, we are losing a lot of circus.
There goes the Educated Scallop out of the ring now. I'm sorry you
missed him, for he is a tender."

"A what?"

"A tender. That is, he is ten times as marvellous as a wonder. Why that
Scallop is the finest comic actor you ever saw. His imitation of a party
of sharks off manning is simply the most laughable thing I ever saw,"
said the Imp, enthusiastically.

"I wish I could understand half of what you say," said Jimmieboy,
looking wistfully at the Imp. "Because if I did, you know, I might guess
the rest."

"What is it you don't understand now?" asked the Imp.

"What is a party of sharks off manning?" queried Jimmieboy.

"Did you ever see a man fishing?" questioned the Imp.

"Yes."

"Well, if a man can fish, why shouldn't a fish man? Sharks can catch men
just as easily as men can catch sharks, and the Scallop shows how sharks
behave when they catch men--that's all."

"I wish I'd seen it; can't you turn back to that page in the book, and
have it done all over again?" asked the boy.

"No, I can't," said the Imp. "It's against the rules of the Library. It
hurts a book to be turned back, just as much as it hurts your little
finger to be turned back, and in nine cases out of ten turning back
pages makes them dogeared; and dogs, or anything that even suggests
dogs, are not allowed here. Why, if the other Imps who own this Library
with me knew that I had even mentioned dogs they would suspend me for a
week. But, my dear boy, we really must stop talking. This time we've
missed the Crab with the iron claw--why, that Crab can crack hickory
nuts with that claw when he's half asleep; and when he's wide awake he
can hold a cherry stone a hundred miles a minute, and that's holding
mighty fast, I can tell you. Let's hear what the Book has to say now."

"Bang!" said the Book.

"Dear me!" cried the Imp. "Did you hear that?"

"Yes," said Jimmieboy. "What does it mean?"

"It means the circus is all over," said the Imp. "That was the shutting
up of the Book we heard. It's too bad; but there are other things quite
as well worth seeing here. I'll tell you what we'll do--I'll find the
Pixyweevil Poetry Book, and turn that on, and while you are listening,
I'll see who that is ringing, for I am quite sure the bell rang a minute
ago."

[TO BE CONTINUED.]




[Illustration: INTERSCHOLASTIC SPORT]


The game between the elevens from the Carlisle Indian School and the
Y.M.C.A., at Manhattan Field, Thanksgiving day, was one that I wish
could have been witnessed by every football player in the country. For
real earnest football play I have never seen the Indians' performance
beaten. They went on the field not to talk, not to slug, not to wrangle
with the officials, but to play football. And they did play football.
They attended strictly to their business from whistle to whistle, and
not a word did one of them say, except to call out the signals. I will
make another exception. One player did make a remark. Some of the
Y.M.C.A. men were talking and objecting in a manner unfortunately too
common with some football players, when one of the red men tapped his
opponent quietly on the shoulder and said, "Ugh, too much talk!"

[Illustration: Lone Wolf, c., Kiowa. Campeau, sub., Chippewa. Wheelock,
r.g., Oneida. Pierce, sub., Seneca. Printup, sub., Tuscarora.

Irwin, r.t., Gros-Ventre. Cayou, l.h.-b., Omaha. Metoxen, f.b., Oneida.
Pierce, l.-g. and Capt., Seneca. McFarland, r.h.-b., Nez-Percé. Seneca,
sub., Seneca.

Leighton, sub., Crow. Schanandore, Oneida. Hudson, q.-b., Pueblo.
Miller, l.e., Stockbridge. Jamison, r.e., Seneca.

CARLISLE INDIAN FOOTBALL ELEVEN.]

When one considers that these Indians had never played football, nor had
even seen a game, before they came East from their reservations--some of
them three years, some only one year ago--their work and behavior are
all the more notable. Their first knowledge of the game came from
watching the Dickinson College men. That was four or five years ago. Now
the Indians can defeat Dickinson in a majority of games played. This
year's eleven is the strongest the school has ever put into the field,
and it has been the most successful. Most of the players are from the
Western tribes, and they are a strong, wiry lot. Their quick movements
and splendid muscular development enable them to make great gains in
bucking the centre, which is the play more favored by the Indians than
running around the ends. Their early life and training have hardened
them, too, so that they are able to stand the strain of football much
better than their white brethren.

The Captain of the eleven, Bemos Pierce, a Seneca, is over six feet
tall, and weighs 203 pounds. He is at left guard; the right guard,
Wheelock, an Oneida, is likewise a six-footer, and weighs 185 pounds.
Lone Wolf stands in the centre, completing a trio unprofitable to buck.
Lone Wolf specially is a hard man for an opponent to handle, being as
hard as iron and as lithe as a serpent. He stood as model for the statue
of the Indian killing a buffalo in front of the Fine Arts Building at
the World's Fair. Metoxen (or more properly Met-the-Oxen) is the
full-back, and has made a reputation for himself as a clever punter. He
is also a swift runner, and invariably makes a gain when he takes the
ball. In a game last year he made a 95-yard run. The half-backs are
noted more for the strength of their running than for swiftness, and the
linemen are models for quick play and sharp following of the ball.

Lawrenceville's victory over the Hill School was somewhat of a fore-gone
conclusion, but in spite of the advantage the Jerseymen had from the
start, the game was a most exciting one. Twelve points were scored by
Lawrenceville in each half, and as the ball was but a few inches from
the Hill's line when time was called, the score came near being 30-0.
The home team was much the lighter, but they played good football. As
soon as the ball had been kicked off by Lawrenceville, the Hill began an
offensive game, which was most effective, carrying the ball down to the
ten-yard line. They used the U. of P. system of interference, and had
six men back of the line in all their offensive plays. Lawrenceville had
not come against this system before, and it was not until well along in
the second half that they were able to meet it well. The line held
excellently, however, and the Hill failed to push the ball over the
line.

The Hill's interference was quickly formed (as it could be, with all the
men necessary for it grouped back of the line), and runs of five to
fifteen yards around the ends were frequent. Most of their gains through
the line were at left tackle. Here Lowndes outplayed Cadwalader. It
seemed as though Cadwalader were asleep, and he consistently failed to
hold his man. He was weak in running, too, for when given the ball he
struck the line only to be tumbled immediately. Richards, the
Lawrenceville left guard, was also outplayed by Mills. At centre the
Jerseymen held their own, and gained through Chadwick frequently.
Kiefer, at half-back, ran well, and captained his team in faultless
style. The tackling of the Hill players was sharp and effective, and
fully equal to that of Lawrenceville.

Few punts were exchanged, but Kafer excelled Monypeny in this respect,
although the latter ran well with the ball. For Lawrenceville, the
dashes of Kafer and Davis through Hill's line were noteworthy. Indeed, I
have seldom seen a full-back gain at the line as Kafer did in that game.
The best all-round playing was done by Emerson. He made wide holes for
his backs, and when given the ball, never failed to gain. Emerson is,
beyond a doubt, the best tackle on any of the school teams. Edwards, at
right guard, outplayed his opponent, Dean, and made repeated gains with
the ball. Dibble made a number of end runs, and tackled better than he
has ever been known to do, even on his own campus. He ran his team
admirably, showing good generalship, which plays so important a part in
strong matches nowadays. Powell and Fincke, at quarter, played an
equally good game.

The result, of course, shows that Lawrenceville played a winning game.
The whole team worked together in a manner that ought to be gratifying
to its coaches. Cadwalader deserves especial mention for his
goal-kicking, which was of an even excellence. He has done uniformly
good work at goal-kicking in all the games this fall, and it will be
remembered that by his kicking of goals in the Andover game the score
was turned in favor of his team. The Hill School used a very aggressive
sort of back field-work, which against lighter teams this fall scored
readily. Lawrenceville's stout line, however, was able to withstand it
at all points of the game.

The one point of superiority Lawrenceville's team shows this year over
last year's team is her defensive work. Her ends were a trifle superior,
breaking up the Hill School's interference successfully, except once,
when the full-back, protected by the two halves, ran twenty yards, and
would have made a touch-down had not Kafer broken up the interference
and downed the man with the ball. The Hill School ends were tried for
some respectable gains, though no long run was made around them. In
this, as in the Andover game, Dibble was unable to run down the field
for a touch-down as was done against the Berkeley eleven and other
school teams so repeatedly earlier in the year.

After playing two tie games, for the championship of the Connecticut
League, the Bridgeport and Hartford High-Schools met for the third time
on the Yale field, Thanksgiving day, and victory was carried back to
Bridgeport. Hartford opened the game with a kick-off. Bridgeport caught
and advanced very near the centre. In three successive plays they failed
to make five yards. A signal was then given (as Hartford supposed) for a
kick, but instead of the ball being passed to Keane for a punt, Foster
took it, and advanced it thirty-five yards through a hole in the centre,
which must have been six feet wide. This brought the leather within a
few yards of Hartford's goal. After two plays Foster pushed it over the
line between Hartford's left tackle and end, and the goal was kicked by
Foster. The second touch-down was made by a criss-cross play. De Forest
took the ball and passed it to Foster, who circled around Hartford's
left end for another gain of thirty or forty yards, the ball being a few
yards beyond centre in Hartford's territory when this play was made.
After one or two unimportant plays Foster again carried the ball over
the line, but no goal was kicked.

Bridgeport's third and last touch-down was obtained partly by a fumble
of Goodell's, and by a criss-cross play. The ball was a short distance
in Bridgeport's territory, and after three downs, Keane punted. Goodell
made an attempt to catch, but missed, and Ives dropped on the ball. Then
the same criss-cross play was tried again with perfect success, Foster
running around Hartford's left end and over the line for a touch-down.
Foster also kicked the goal, and thereafter Bridgeport scored no more.

Hartford's scoring was done in the second half. The first points were
earned by steady rushes down the field, Lyman was finally sent with the
ball between right tackle and guard for a touch-down, and Ingalls kicked
the goal. The second score was made in about the same way--Luce going
through left guard and centre, and Ingalls again kicking the goal.

As in the first of the three games, left end was Hartford's weakest
spot, and Bridgeport took advantage of this to fire their interference
frequently into Morcom. In the first half the Hartford men were
decidedly sleepy, which may have been due to their lack of practice, and
the ball was kept almost entirely in their territory. In the second half
they took a remarkable brace, and not only scored twice, but kept
Bridgeport from doing anything. In individual play Foster did the best
work for Bridgeport, making all her touch-downs and all the long runs.
He was also very good on the defense. Ives played a good game in both
aggressive and defensive work. Keane made some fine punts, and bucked
the line as well as any man on Bridgeport's team. Bill played a good
aggressive game, but was a little weak on the defense. For Hartford,
Lyman, Goodell, Luce, Chapman, and Ingalls played first-class football.
Lyman tackled well, and made sure gains when sent with the ball.
Goodell, notwithstanding his fumbles in trying to catch kicks in the
first half, did good work in the second. Luce punted strongly, and
Ingalls got in more tackles for his team than any other man.

Hartford's ends were very weak, as I have said, and Bridgeport's were
very strong. The other linemen from Hartford were superior to their
opponents, and the backs of both teams were about equal in skill. The
interference of both elevens was strong, and there was less fumbling
done than in any game I have seen this fall. Hartford showed commendable
pluck, and displayed not the slightest discouragement when they left the
field at the end of the first half with the score 16-0 against them.
They died game, and need not feel ashamed of being the losers.
Bridgeport has cause for pride, and the entire Connecticut League may
well feel that theirs has been a profitable and notable season.

[Illustration: LINE-UP OF THE BERKELEY SCHOOL ELEVEN.

Champions of the N.Y.I.S.F.B.A.]

The Inter-city game was played on the Berkeley Oval, a week ago
Saturday, between the Berkeley and Pratt Institute teams, as the
champions of their respective leagues. Both teams were in first-class
condition, and during the first half the spectators were treated to
hard, fast football. The game was a remarkably clean one, and the
penalties imposed were only for off-side play, using hands, and a
forward pass. Pratt kicked off to Bien, who immediately returned the
ball to Pratt's thirty-five yard line, where Higgins was downed in his
tracks by Hasbrouck. In eight trials Pratt could only advance the ball
fifteen yards, Berkeley securing it on downs. Berkeley then sent her
backs at Pratt's right end for a gain of seven yards, and then three
yards through the centre. The right end was again tried, netting
twenty-five yards. Pratt then took a brace, and recovered the ball seven
yards from her goal-line. Berkeley's line held well, and her men soon
had the ball again in their possession. They found a weak spot between
left guard and tackle, and through this hole, in three trials, E.
Irwin-Martin was pushed over the line for a touch-down, from which a
goal was kicked. The Pratt team rallied after having been scored on, and
dashed at Berkeley's line so persistently, and with such good judgment,
that in eight minutes they tied the score. In the second half, however,
Berkeley's superior condition told, and the final score was rolled up to
16-6.

Berkeley met another team from the Long Island League on Thanksgiving
day. She had played St. Paul's twice before this season, and the two
schools had broken even. The rubber was a hot contest, full of sharp and
snappy work. The score, 16-6, gives no indication of the kind of game
put up by the losing team. They excelled Berkeley in team-work, and
displayed a beautiful defence. By defeating Trinity the following
Saturday, Berkeley closed the championship season, and took the pennant
for 1895.

The English High-School eleven expected an easy time with C.M.T.S. team
in their championship game two weeks ago. The Cambridge boys, however,
gave them the hardest game they have played; 14-8 was the score.
Cambridge scored twice on straight play, and English High once on
straight play and twice on flukes.

  THE GRADUATE.




ADVERTISEMENTS.




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[Illustration]

[Illustration]

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[Illustration]




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[Illustration: Royal Baking Powder]




[Illustration]

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[Illustration]

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Tells how to make all kinds of Toys, Steam Engines, Photo Cameras,
Windmills, Microscopes, Electric Telegraphs, Telephones, Magic Lanterns,
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also Kites, Balloons, Paper Toys, Masks, Card Racks, Wagons, Toy Houses,
Bow and Arrow, Pop Guns, Slings, Stilts, Fishing Tackle, Rabbit and Bird
Traps, and many other things, and all is made so plain and simple that
any boy can easily make anything described. Illustrated with more than
=200= handsome illustrations. This great =Book Free= to any one sending
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Magic Tricks, =Free=.

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[Illustration]

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Pen, warranted a perfect writer, and immense Illus. Bargain Catalogue,
for 10c. to cover postage, etc.

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CHARLES CARLETON COFFIN'S

Fascinating Historical Works.

Mr. Coffin avoids the formality of historical narrative, and presents
his material in the shape of personal anecdotes, memorable incidents,
and familiar illustrations. He reproduces events in a vivid, picturesque
narrative.--_N. Y. Tribune._

Mr. Coffin writes interestingly; he uses abundance of incident; his
style is pictorial and animated; he takes a sound view of the inner
factors of national development and progress; and his pages are
plentifully sprinkled with illustrations.--_Literary World_, Boston.

  ABRAHAM LINCOLN.
  THE BOYS OF '76.
  THE STORY OF LIBERTY.
  OLD TIMES IN THE COLONIES.
  BUILDING THE NATION.

_A History of the Rebellion in Four Volumes:_

  DRUM-BEAT OF THE NATION.
  MARCHING TO VICTORY.
  REDEEMING THE REPUBLIC.
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_Nine Volumes. Profusely Illustrated. Square 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental,
$3.00 each._

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Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.




[Illustration: BICYCLING]

     The Editor will be pleased to answer any question on the subject.
     Our maps and tours contain much valuable data kindly supplied from
     the official maps and road-books of the League of American
     Wheelmen. Recognizing the value of the work being done by the
     L. A. W. the Editor will be pleased to furnish subscribers with
     membership blanks and information so far as possible.


[Illustration: Copyright, 1895, by Harper & Brothers.]

Start at Copley Square through Dartmouth Street to Beacon; turn to left,
and follow Beacon to Massachusetts Avenue; there turn to right and cross
Harvard Bridge, and again turn to the right at Windsor Street, and cross
the electric-car tracks, keeping direct road to Webster Avenue; there
turn to the left, and follow to Prospect Street; then turn to right, and
go up small hill over railroad, turning to the right at Washington:
follow Washington to Medford Street; then turn to left, and take direct
road past Central Square and Winter Hill Station, passing Mystic Park on
the right, and crossing bridge over Mystic River into Medford. Take High
Street to the drinking fountain; then at the fork take Purchase Street,
and at Symmes Corner keep to right, and then bear to the left into
Winchester. After crossing the square, go over railroad tracks, and keep
to right along horse-car tracks to Woburn Common. Roads from Boston to
Medford good; from Medford to Winchester fair, rolling country; and from
Woburn on, roads good. From Woburn Common take Main Street, following
horse-car tracks to railroad crossing, then turn to right to North
Woburn. Follow main road over railroad, then keep to left, following
railroad to Wilmington Depot. Cross Lawrence branch track over the rise,
then keep to the right through the woods, passing Silver Lake, and
following telegraph poles. About two miles beyond Tewksbury turn to
right, cross the tracks at Wamesit, then keep to the left through
Atherton to electric-car tracks, which follow into Lowell. American
House is wheelmen's hotel. Distance 28 miles. As a choice in returning:
Follow car-tracks towards Billerica; turn to left, and cross the river
and turn to right now, keep direct road up long hill, at top of hill
turn to right, and follow telegraph poles. Road fair, but hilly.

Follow Spring Street into Bedford; then turn to left and take direct
road through North Lexington to Lexington Common. From Lexington follow
Massachusetts Avenue. Good roads, considerable down-grade, macadam
surface most of the way. You pass through East Lexington, Arlington
Heights, Arlington, and still keeping on Massachusetts Avenue to Harvard
Square. There keep to the left, following electric-car tracks through
Cambridgeport. Cross Harvard Bridge, turn to left at either Beacon or
Commonwealth Avenue, and to the right at Dartmouth to Copley Square.
There is more or less hard wheeling on this trip, but it abounds in
pretty scenery of woodland, lake, etc.

Such a trip as this need not necessarily be made in all its details. It
is impossible in this Department to cover all the possible trips in the
vicinity of Boston. General directions are therefore taken, and one trip
in each direction given.




[Illustration: THE CAMERA CLUB]

     Any questions in regard to photograph matters will be willingly
     answered by the Editor of this column, and we should be glad to
     hear from any of our club who can make helpful suggestions.


FIGURE STUDIES.

Figure studies are the most difficult as well as the most interesting
pictures made with a camera, and therefore the prizes are always higher
which are offered in this class. To make a good figure study, which
shall be a real picture, requires special skill and tact, for though one
is constantly seeing charming and original subjects, it is quite another
thing to fix them on gelatine plates.

To make a success of figure studies one should begin by selecting a
subject, the simpler the better, and make a photograph of it twenty
times if necessary, till one is obtained which is satisfactory. The
habit of giving up after one or two unsuccessful trials is what makes
the work of the average amateur of so little pictorial value. One figure
study repeated till it is right makes the taking of all others of the
same class easier.

Choose some simple subject--something which you are familiar with in
every detail, and know when the picture is correct. Do not try to
arrange the folds of the dress or of any drapery which you may use. Lift
the drapery and drop it again, and have the subject rise and sit till
the folds of both gown and drapery are graceful. If one tries to arrange
the lines they are almost sure to look stiff, while if the folds are
allowed to fall of themselves they are usually artistic. Only in rare
cases should the subject look toward the camera or show the full face. A
half or three-quarters view of the features is more artistic, and
sometimes if the face is turned almost away from the camera the pose is
more effective. This is the case if a picture is being made of a person
reading, writing, or drawing.

The amateur living in the country has perhaps the advantage over his
co-worker in the city in the choice of subjects for figure studies.
Several excellent subjects, appropriate to the season, are just now
within the reach of the country amateur. One which would be sure to
please is that of a girl coming across the field laden with wood
treasures, such as autumn leaves, ferns, mosses, etc. In making such a
study care should be taken that the branches and ferns are not massed
too heavily.

Another subject becoming more and more rare as steam takes the place of
hand labor, is the interior of an old-fashioned cider-mill, with a
curly-headed boy sucking cider through a straw thrust into the bung-hole
of a cider barrel. Still another country figure study could be made of
two or three boys cracking butternuts or hickory nuts under the tree
that bore them. In taking such a picture be sure that at least one of
the boys has his back to the camera, for unless such is the case the
group looks too stiff. Choosing the Christmas turkey is an excellent
subject just now, and one easily made.

Homely occupations make good subjects for figure studies. Grandmother
darning stockings, Katherine trimming a hat, Ellen mixing bread or
baking pies, George chopping or sawing wood, Benny building a bonfire,
and like subjects, which will suggest themselves, are easy to make, and
are always attractive pictures.

In making figure studies where the objects have to be arranged do not
crowd too many into the picture. Try for the best, and do not send
anything to the contest of which you can say, "This would have been
better if I had--" Make it the very best of its kind.

     SIR KNIGHT W. H. TOBEY wishes to know when the results of the
     competition will be published. The successful contestants will be
     announced in the January number of the ROUND TABLE.

     SIR KNIGHT AUSTIN O. OLMSTEAD, of Wisconsin, wishes to know how to
     make enlargements on bromide paper, or, if the directions have been
     published, to know in what number to find it. Sir Austin will find
     directions in No. 801, March 5th, 1895.

     SIR KNIGHT RALPH E. COTTER asks how to take pictures of sunsets,
     and also if the negative does not affect the tone of the picture,
     for, he says, some negatives he can tone a good color and others he
     cannot. To take pictures of sunsets use a slow non-halation plate,
     a very small diaphragm, and an instantaneous exposure. Make the
     exposure when the sun is hidden behind a cloud, but shows light
     through the breaks in them. There is nothing much prettier in the
     way of out-door photographs than sunset views. Pictures made from
     different negatives take different tones, according to the density
     of the negative. A thin plate will take a tone a sort of slaty
     gray, while with a good negative showing sharp contrasts almost any
     color or tone wished may be obtained.

     SIR KNIGHT EMILE LOW sends blue prints of two pictures showing a
     dark circle in the centre, and asks what is the trouble with his
     camera. It evidently leaks light, and to find out if such is the
     case a plate should be put in the holder, the slide drawn, and with
     the shutter closed expose the camera to strong sunlight. Develop
     the plate, and if it is fogged examine the bellows for a pin-hole,
     and look to see if the lens board fits tightly.




FEED THEM PROPERLY

and carefully; reduce the painfully large percentage of infant
mortality. Take no chances and make no experiments in this very
important matter. The Gail Borden Eagle Brand Condensed Milk has saved
thousands of little lives.--[_Adv._]




ADVERTISEMENTS.




Girls,

Have you been reading about the

"Elfin" Watches

made purposely for you? If you have seen the

"Elfin"

Catalogue, then send for the Ladies' Catalogue, which is larger, and has
a great many sizes and designs that your mothers would like to look at.
We have all kinds and sizes of watches.

The Waterbury Watch Co.,

Waterbury, Conn.




[Illustration]




Arnold

Constable & Co

       *       *       *       *       *

Children's Wear.

_Reduction in prices:_

Reefers, Coats,

$5.50 _and_ $9.50.

Children's Frocks,

$5.75 _to_ $19.00.

       *       *       *       *       *

Ladies' Wrappers,

Ladies' Silk Skirts,

Ladies' House Dresses.

       *       *       *       *       *

PARIS UNDERWEAR.--CORSETS.

       *       *       *       *       *

Broadway & 19th st.

NEW YORK.




[Illustration]

  THIS IS THE FAMOUS HOOK AND EYE
    THAT CAUGHT MY MAMMA'S FANCY:
  SHE SAYS THE WAY IT HOLDS IS LIKE--
    I'LL SPELL IT: "NEC-RO-MAN-CY."

See that

hump?

[Illustration]

The DeLong Hook and Eye.

Send 2 cts. in stamps for New Mother Goose book in colors, to Richardson
& DeLong Bros., Philadelphia.




[Illustration]

Highest Award

WORLD'S FAIR.

SKATES

CATALOGUE FREE.

BARNEY & BERRY, Springfield, Mass.




CARDS

The FINEST SAMPLE BOOK of Gold Beveled Edge, Hidden Name, Silk Fringe,
Envelope and Calling Cards ever offered for a 2 cent stamp. These are
GENUINE CARDS, NOT TRASH.

UNION CARD CO., COLUMBUS, OHIO.




HALF A DOZEN NEW BOOKS

FOR BOYS AND GIRLS.

=The Partners=, by Wm. O. Stoddard. A story for girls. The best girls'
book of the year and yet a boys' story too--for _all_ admire Stoddard's
stories. 12mo, cloth, $1.50.

=The Book of Athletics=. Edited by Norman W. Bingham, Jr. All about
out-of-door sports, football, golf, bicycling, etc., by the best
athletes in the American colleges. 8vo, cloth, $1.50.

=The True Story of George Washington=, by Elbridge S. Brooks. The best
"child-life" of the "Father of his Country." Told for youngest readers,
but full of interest for all ages. 4to, cloth, $1.50.

=The Hobbledehoy=, by Belle C. Greene. The unique story of a "changing"
boy, that every boy and girl, every father and mother, will heartily
enjoy. It is a modern temperance story, too, and a fine one! 12mo,
cloth, $1.25.

=Child Sketches from George Eliot=, compiled by Julia Magruder.
Illustrated by Birch and Amy Brooks, and introducing young readers to
the children in the great writer's stories. 8vo, cloth, $1.25.

=The Boy Life of Napoleon=, from the French of Mme. Eugénie Foa. The only
story-life of the boy Napoleon. 8vo, cloth, $1.25.

_For sale at all bookstores. Send for Illustrated Holiday List, New
Descriptive Catalogue, and THE <DW29> PRIZE OFFER to boys and girls._

LOTHROP PUBLISHING COMPANY,

92 Pearl Street, Boston.




HOOPING-COUGH

CROUP.

Roche's Herbal Embrocation.

The celebrated and effectual English Cure without internal medicine.
Proprietors, W. EDWARD & SON, Queen Victoria St., London, England.
Wholesale of

E. Fougera Co., 30 North William St., N. Y.




Postage Stamps, &c.




1000

Mixed Foreign Postage Stamps, including Fiji Islands, Samoa, Hawaii,
Hong Kong, for 34c. in stamps; 10 varieties U. S. Columbian stamps,
25c.; entire unused 5c. and 10c. Columbian Envelopes, 25c. the pair.
Only a limited number were issued by U. S. Government. E. F. GAMBS, Box
2631, San Francisco, Cal. Established, 1872.




[Illustration]

STAMPS!

=800= fine mixed Victoria, Cape of G. H., India, Japan, etc., with fine
Stamp Album, only =10c=. New 80-p. Price-list =free=. _Agents wanted_ at
=50%= commission. STANDARD STAMP CO., 4 Nicholson Place, St. Louis, Mo.
Old U. S. and Confederate Stamps bought.




[Illustration]

100 all dif. Venezuela, Bolivia, etc., only 10c.; 200 all dif. Hayti,
Hawaii, etc., only 50c. Ag'ts w't'd at 50% com. List FREE! =C. A.
Stegmann=, 5941 Cote Brilliante Ave., St. Louis, Mo




=50 VARIETIES=, 10c.; 2 Paraguay, 5c.; 5 Saxony '65, 10c.; 3 Corea, 15c.;
10 Finland, 15c.; 15 Japan, 15c. Agents wanted. 50% commission.

FRANK W. ALDEN, Waterville, Maine.




500

Mixed Australian, etc., 10c.; =105 varieties=, and nice album, 10c.; 15
unused, 10c.; 10 Africa, 10c.; 15 Asia, 10c. F.P. Vincent, Chatham, N.Y.




FINE PACKETS in large variety. Stamps at 50% com. Col's bought.
Northwestern Stamp Co., Freeport, Ill.




=STAMPS--MINERALS, RELICS=, etc. List free.

W. P. ARNOLD, Stonington, Conn.




=FINE APPROVAL SHEETS.= Agents wanted at 50% com. P. S. Chapman, Box 151,
Bridgeport, Ct.




FREE!

5 varieties, to all sending for my approval sheets; 100 varieties, 25
cents; 1000 mixed, 25 cents.

L. D. KENT, PALMYRA, N. Y. P. O. BOX, 623.




An Appeal for a School-house.


Come, dear readers of the Table--Ladies, Knights, Patrons, and their
friends--let us make possible the laying of the corner-stone of Good
Will School next spring. The task is not a difficult one. It can be
accomplished in this way:

Get one subscriber to HARPER'S ROUND TABLE. Remit the $2 for it for one
year. Attach the accompanying Coupon. Say in your letter that you wish
the 50 cents turned into the Fund. And the thing is done. The Fund is
complete. The corner-stone will be laid. The boys will have an
industrial school-house. The Order will have performed a grand, a
chivalrous deed.

At this holiday-time every person who reads these lines has it within
his or her power to build this school-house. Because, if _you_ get the
one subscriber, the house will be built. If you do not, it will not--not
now. All depends on you.

Go out and ask your friends about it. Ask them to help you get the
subscriber. Your parents and teachers will help you. Ask them to do so.
Set your heart on getting this one subscriber. Go to a Sunday-school or
church committee, a day school, some well-to-do man or woman who has
young persons in the household. Ask the well-to-do neighbor. Relate the
merits of the paper, and show a sample copy and Prospectus. We furnish
them free. Ask us to do so.

But do more than this. Relate the story of Good Will. Tell the person
whom you are asking to subscribe why you want the subscription, and why
you want it now. Tell him or her that Good Will Farm, while in Maine,
takes boys from any part of the country, and is therefore not a local,
but a national enterprise. Say that it is a house for an industrial
school that the Order is to build. The Farm is in good hands, and the
school itself will be well conducted. Our task is only to put up the
building, not to conduct the school. Say that during the last few
years--two or three--more than 700 poor boys have applied for admission
to Good Will, and had to be refused it for lack of room. These boys were
deserving. Say further that if you get the subscription the school will
be built, and, by turning a house now used for the school into a
dwelling, more boys can be taken--boys of five, six, and seven years of
age, who are now homeless, may be given homes, school advantages, and a
chance to become useful Christian men.

During the next two weeks will _you_ get this subscription? Talk it
up--and get it. The appeal is not made to the Order. It is made to
_you_. If you do not wish to cut out the coupon, make a pen one nearly
like it, ask us for duplicates, or send on the subscription without a
coupon, simply saying that you got it to help the school, and that you
want 50 cents of the $2 given to the Fund. Be sure to give the
subscription address, and your own name for the Honor Roll.

Come on, dear friends, let us build this school-house.

THIS COUPON

Will be received by the publishers of HARPER'S ROUND TABLE as

[Illustration]

when accompanied by an order for a NEW subscription to HARPER'S ROUND
TABLE and One Dollar And Fifty Cents. The intent of this Coupon is to
pay you for inducing another person, _not now a subscriber_, to
subscribe for HARPER'S ROUND TABLE for one year. This Coupon has nothing
whatever to do with your own subscription; that is, with the copy you
expect to read next year, it matters not in whose name it be ordered,
and will not be accepted as payment for any part of it. It is good for
its face in the hands of any person who performs the work indicated,
whether said person is a subscriber or not. HARPER & BROTHERS.




How Tortillas are Made.


     I was recently looking through some of my old copies when I came
     across a morsel contributed by Lady Rebekah Phillips Dixon. In
     describing some Indians of Arizona she spoke of them making
     tortillas, but could not describe how they were made, as there was
     an obstruction to her view. I have very often watched the Indians
     preparing them.

     They first get a large bread-pan (and it doesn't particularly
     matter whether it is scrupulously clean or not), and dump in a
     quantity of flour without measuring it, and which, by-the-way, has
     generally been done up in the corner of an old shawl, and hidden in
     the brushy part of the wick-i-up, or stowed under the bed. From the
     corner of the shawl she has on, or perhaps the hem of her skirt,
     the squaw extracts a can from which she takes, also without
     measurement, a bit of yeast. From still another portion of the
     shawl she gets a little salt and mixes the whole together with
     water.

     The dough thus made is divided into balls, a trifle smaller than a
     biscuit, and laid out in a row until she resurrects from a
     neighboring cactus, or from under a saddle, or, still more likely,
     out of the bed, a very greasy frying-pan which, often without
     washing, is transferred to the fire to heat. The squaw seats
     herself in front of it, and taking one of the small lumps of dough
     she very swiftly tosses it from one palm to the other until it is
     very thin, when it is transferred to the frying-pan, where it
     remains until slightly browned, when it is tossed up very
     dexterously about two feet and comes down again in the pan--turned.
     When it is done it is laid on the coals, where it completes its
     baking. The tortillas are about a quarter of an inch thick, and to
     my taste about as near to sole-leather as anything not leather can
     be.

  FLORENCE E. COWAN.
  KINGMAN, ARIZONA.




Questions and Answers.


Joseph Cook, 3311 Howell Street, Wissinoming Philadelphia, is engaged in
the commendable task of looking up names of his ancestry, and he wants
all the Cooks in the country to write him. If all do, his mail will be
large. "M. T." is here again for further information. She asks for yells
and colors of the following colleges: Pennsylvania State, Grinnell,
Stevens Institute, St. Albans Military, Georgetown, Lake Forest, and the
State universities of Kansas, Missouri, Iowa, Nebraska, and Wisconsin.

Henry B. Foss asks if Chicago is not now the richest of all American
colleges. Hardly, we think, but it is among the very wealthiest. The
last gift of its chief founder, $3,000,000, was, we believe, contingent
upon the people of Chicago, or at least the friends of the university,
raising an equal sum. Should they do so, the plant of the university
would be worth about $13,000,000--a vast sum, which can make Chicago a
great factor in educational matters. "Who writes our puzzles!" asks
Victor Landrum. A score or more different persons. Some authors furnish
material, and one of the editors puts that material together. Some of
our cleverest puzzle work has been done by women--Ellen Douglas Deland,
Mrs. Pollie Pemberton Bermann, Mrs. Clara J. Denton, Mrs. H. E. Banning,
Miss J. M. Cox, Mrs. M. E. Saffold, and Miss L. E. Johnson.

Fred Hayden asks if we think young men should study politics. We answer,
yes. "Is an electric locomotive for heavy traffic doing successful work
anywhere?" inquires Emanuel Parrish. Yes, on the Baltimore and Ohio
Railroad, hauling freight trains through the tunnel under the city of
Baltimore. "Do members of the House of Representatives at Washington get
the same salary as United States Senators?" asks J. B. G. Yes, $5000 a
year, besides some allowances for stationery and travelling expenses.
No, the members of the British Parliament, either Lords or Commons, are
not paid. Yes, the young Duke of Marlborough is a full member of the
British House of Lords.




[Illustration: STAMPS]

     This Department is conducted in the interest of stamp and coin
     collectors, and the Editor will be pleased to answer any question
     on these subjects so far as possible. Correspondents should address
     Editor Stamp Department.


I promised to give illustrations of the Confederate stamps, and I begin
with those issued by the authority of the general government. These are
all very common in comparison with the "Local stamps," which were issued
by postmasters for use at their own post-offices exclusively. These
"Local stamps" will be illustrated in a subsequent number of the ROUND
TABLE.

There are seven dies, from which eleven distinct varieties were printed,
and three minor varieties. In addition there is a 1c. yellow stamp which
was printed but never used.

Taking the stamps in the order of their issue, we find,

[Illustration: 1.]

[Illustration: 2.]

[Illustration: 3.]

1. The 5c. green. (Illustration No. 1.)

2. The 10c. blue, die A. (Illustration No. 3.)

3. The 2c. green. (Illustration No. 2.)

4. The 5c. blue. (Illustration No. 1.) This is the same stamp as No. 1,
except in color.

5. The 10c. red, die A. (Illustration No. 3.)

6. The 10c. blue, die B. (Illustration No. 3.) In die B the letter A in
the word STATES has no crossbar; it is simply an inverted V.

[Illustration: 4.]

[Illustration: 5.]

[Illustration: 6.]

7. The 5c. blue. (Illustration No. 6.) This was printed in London, and
looks like an engraved stamp.

8. The 5c. blue. (Illustration No. 6.) This is identical with No. 7,
except that it was printed in Richmond. It looks like a lithograph.

[Illustration: 7.]

9. The TEN c. blue. (Illustration No. 7.) Instead of figures 10, the
lower label reads TEN.

10. The 10c. blue, die A. (Illustration No. 7.) In this die the scrolls
at the four corners are full and clearly printed.

11. The 10c. blue, die B. (Illustration No. 7.) The same as No. 10,
except that the scrolls are scanter, and there is a flaw in the beard.

12. The 10c. blue. (Illustration No. 7.) This stamp has a rectangular
plain blue line surrounding the entire stamp.

13. The 2c. red-brown. (Illustration No. 4.)

14. The 20c. green. (Illustration No. 5.)

Taking the stamps in the order of scarcity, we find them to be as
follows:

1. The 2c. green. (Illustration No. 2.)

2. The 10c. with outer line. (Illustration No. 7.)

3. The TEN c. (Illustration No. 7.)

4. The 2c. red-brown. (Illustration No. 4.) Those four stamps are about
equally scarce.

5. The 10c. red. (Illustration No. 3.)

6. The 20c. green. (Illustration No. 5.)

7. The 10c. blue, die A. (Illustration No. 3.)

8. The 10c. blue, die B. (Illustration No. 3.)

9. The 5c. blue. (Illustration No. 1.)

10. The 5c. green. (Illustration No. 1.)

11. The 5c. blue, Richmond print. (Illustration No. 6.)

12. The 5c. blue, London print. (Illustration No. 6.)

13. The 10c. blue, die A. (Illustration No. 7.)

14. The 10c. blue, die B. (Illustration No. 7.)

The last four are extremely common, both used and unused. None of the
fourteen stamps are as scarce as any of the "Postmaster's Stamps."

I get so many inquiries concerning half-cents and cents that I purpose
in an early issue to give a list of all those which are bought by
dealers.

  PHILATUS.




ADVERTISEMENTS.




INTERNATIONAL EDITION.

Le Grand's Manual for Stamp Collectors

A Companion to the Stamp Album.

Prepared for the American collector by Henri Pène du Bois, Esq.

How this Book is Divided.

PART I. treats of stamps in general and successively of all the details
concerning their issue.

PART II. treats of the various sorts of stamps, postals, telegraphic,
fiscal, or revenue.

PART III. treats of subjects relating to stamps not discussed in the two
preceding divisions, obliterations, surcharges, proofs, reprints,
counterfeits, etc., together with an article on the _Universal Postal
Union_ and another on the formation of an album.

Bound in cloth, extra, $1.00.

Published by G. D. HURST, 114 Fifth Ave., New York.

_Your nearest bookdealer will get it for you._




A LIFE OF CHRIST FOR

YOUNG PEOPLE.

     In Questions and Answers. By MARY HASTINGS FOOTE. With Map. Post
     8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25.

A book that is remarkably well suited to its purpose.... The value of
the book lies in its perfectly simple and clear style and in its
interesting manner.--_N. Y. Sun_.

The Rev. Dr. DAVID H. GREER writes:

     I believe it to be one of the most satisfactory manuals of that
     character which I have ever seen. It meets a need both in the
     family and the Sunday-school, and I am sure that its merits will be
     very quickly and widely appreciated. It is not often that I can
     give an indorsement so cordially and unreservedly as in this case.

       *       *       *       *       *

HARPER & BROTHERS, Publishers, New York.




[Illustration: Ivory Soap]

At all grocery stores east of the Rocky Mountains two sizes of Ivory
Soap are sold; one that costs five cents a cake, and a larger size. The
larger cake is the more convenient and economical for laundry and
general household use. If your Grocer is out of it, insist on his
getting it for you.

THE PROCTER & GAMBLE CO., CIN'TI.




PRINTING OUTFIT 10c.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: G. A. R. 25c.]

[Illustration: Brownies 10c.]

For printing cards, marking linen, books, etc. Contains everything shown
in cut. Type, Tweezers, Holder, Indelible Ink, Ink Pad, etc. Thoroughly
practical for business or household use and a most instructive
amusement. Sent with catalogue illustrating over 1000 Tricks and
Novelties, for 10c. in stamps to pay postage and packing on outfit and
catalogue. Same outfit with figures 15c. Large outfit for printing two
lines 25c.

=Brownie Rubber Stamps=--A set of 6 grotesque little people with ink pad;
price, postpaid, 10c.

G. A. R. series Rubber Stamps, 12 characters. Makes all kinds of
Battles, Encampments and other military pictures, 25c. postpaid. Address

ROBERT H. INGERSOLL & BRO.

Dep't No. 62. 65 Cortlandt St., New York.




[Illustration]

Don't "hang up the baby's stocking"

until you are sure that the beautiful Christmas Number of =Babyland= has
been put in; or, better still, _subscribe now_, and have the
Thanksgiving and Christmas issues mailed promptly for Christmas-day
enjoyment of all the little ones. New volume begins Nov. number.

For the children from seven to eleven, nothing more enjoyable can be
given than a subscription to =Little Men and Women=, that favorite
magazine for all wide-awake young people.

     Any one sending _two_ new names for =Babyland= (50 c. for each), will
     be entitled to their own subscription free; and for sending _two_
     new names ($1 for each) for =Little Men and Women=, will receive
     =Little Men and Women= free for one year.

  =Babyland=                   50 cts. a year, 5 cts. a No.
  =Little Men and Women=       $1 a year, 10 cts. a No.

Alpha Publishing Co.,

212 Boylston St., Boston.




BREAKFAST--SUPPER.

EPPS'S

GRATEFUL--COMFORTING.

COCOA




[Illustration]




DEAFNESS & HEAD NOISES CURED

by my =INVISIBLE= Tubular Cushions. Have helped more to good =HEAR=ing
than all other devices combined. Whispers =HEAR=d. Help ears as glasses
do eyes. =F. Hiscox=, 858 B'dway, N.Y. Book of proofs =FREE=




CARDS

=FOR 1896=. 50 Sample Styles AND LIST OF 400 PREMIUM ARTICLES FREE.
HAVERFIELD PUB. CO., Cadiz, Ohio.




Harper's Catalogue,

Thoroughly revised, classified, and indexed, will be sent by mail to any
address on receipt of ten cents.




[Illustration: GOOSEY GANDER (_happening upon an umbrella-stand_).
"WELL, WHAT KIND OF GEESE ARE YOU?"]




MICKEY MCGEE.


  "An' sure 'tis mesilf is the fortunate b'y
    As Christmas is comin' for you an' for me;
  It's thruly a big share o' blessin's have I
    At this blessed season," said Mickey McGee.

  "My shtockin' I hung on the floor when 'twas night,
    An' thin was ashlape like a log, in a minute.
  An' whin I awoke wid the morn all alight,
    What would ye be guessin' was soon found widin it?

  "The liveliest feet for a shkip or a run
    To carry a heart that's as light as a feather,
  Along wid an eye for the beam o' the sun,
    A share in the light an' the wind an' the weather.

  "A share in the gladness that comes wid the day,
    The peace an' good-will that's for you and for me.
  So over the land an' far over the say
    To all merry Christmas," said Mickey McGee.

  SYDNEY DAYRE.

       *       *       *       *       *

Prince Bismarck, one of the greatest of men, grinding a hand-organ. This
sounds a little absurd, and yet he did grind an organ, and in the royal
palace at Berlin.

It seems one day considerable noise issued from an apartment used by the
young princes. Bismarck, who was passing by, put his head within the
door and found the young princes dancing and shouting to the tunes of a
barrel-organ played by the Crown Prince. The moment they saw him they
invited him to have some fun too. Bismarck declined, but agreed to play
the organ if the Crown Prince would dance with the rest. The Crown
Prince readily gave up the organ and joined the dancers.

Right merrily went the fun, and right lively Bismarck ground away, when
into the midst of the shouting, laughing, dancing group stalked the
Kaiser. A smile crept over his face when he saw that great statesman,
Bismarck, a man of iron, grinding away on a barrel-organ, and after
greeting his sons, he turned to him in mock displeasure, and remarked:

"You are beginning in good time to make the heir apparent dance to your
music. It seems that this is about the fourth generation that has done
so."

       *       *       *       *       *

THE SEA-SHELL.

  I brought a shell back from the sea;
  I keep it in my room with me,
  And when the waves I wish to hear
  I hold the sea-shell to my ear.

       *       *       *       *       *

While poring over a receipt-book the other day, my attention was
attracted by a receipt which ended something like this: "Then sit on the
front of the stove, and stir constantly."

Imagine sitting on a stove without stirring constantly.

       *       *       *       *       *

Make a coat in a day: from shearing the wool from a sheep's back to
putting the finished garment on one's own back. Nonsense! it could not
be done. This would probably be the reply to any one claiming such a
thing, or, if not, at least one would receive a reply expressing a
strong doubt of the possibility of doing so, notwithstanding the vast
improvements in machinery within the past fifty years. The feat,
however, was accomplished even as far back as 1811, by Mr. John Coveter,
of Greenham Mills, near Newbury, England.

At five o'clock in the morning Mr. Coveter was presented with two
Southdown Wedder sheep. At first the sheep were shorn, the wool spun,
the yarn spooled, warped, loomed, and wove. After that the cloth was
burred, milled, rowed, dyed, pressed, and late in the afternoon put in
the hands of the tailors. By half past six the coat was finished, and
Mr. Coveter presented it to one of the gentlemen of the town amid the
thundering applause of five thousand spectators.

       *       *       *       *       *

TOWSER'S TRICK.

Towser was growling at something, much to Jack's amusement.

"You funny old dog, you," said Jack, patting him on the head, "trying to
make us think you're a cat, purring away like that. You can't fool me."

       *       *       *       *       *

COULDN'T COUNT.

"How many pieces of candy have you had, Wallie?"

"I don't know, mammy. I tan't tount over sebben."

       *       *       *       *       *

A FLOWER CLOCK.

An English journal contains the following ingenious hint to the little
gardeners. We have not tested the scheme ourselves, but it reads
plausibly as follows:

It is quite possible to so arrange flowers in a garden that all the
purposes of a clock will be answered. In the time of Pliny forty-six
flowers were known to open and shut at certain hours of the day, and
this number has since been largely increased. For instance, a bed of
common dandelions would show when it was 5.30 in the morning and 8.30 at
night respectively, for those flowers open and shut at the times named,
frequently to the minute. The common hawk-weed opens at 8 in the
morning, and may be depended upon to close within a few minutes of 2 in
the afternoon. The yellow goat's-beard shuts at 12 o'clock noon
absolutely to the minute, sidereal time--that is, when the sun attains
its highest altitude. Our clocks do not follow the sun, but are
generally a few minutes fast or slow, according to the longitude of the
place where they are. The goat's-beard, however, is true time all the
world over. The sowthistle opens at 5 A.M. and closes at 11-12 A.M. The
white-lily opens at 7 A.M. and closes at 5 P.M.: the pink opens at 8
A.M. and closes at 6.30 P.M. In the towns few people know about such
details as these; nor are the flower clocks often seen anywhere, though
they have been constructed occasionally. Even in these days, however,
farm servants often take their dinner-hour from the sun, or, failing
that, from the yellow goat's-beard, which is never mistaken, whether it
can see the sun or not. Should any of the readers of the ROUND TABLE
test the accuracy of this singular time-keeping garden it is to be hoped
they will communicate the result of their experiment to the world.





End of Project Gutenberg's Harper's Round Table, December 10, 1895, by Various

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