



Produced by Annie R. McGuire








[Illustration: HARPER'S ROUND TABLE]

Copyright, 1896, by HARPER & BROTHERS. All Rights Reserved.

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PUBLISHED WEEKLY. NEW YORK, TUESDAY, JUNE 23, 1896. FIVE CENTS A COPY.

VOL. XVII.--NO. 869. TWO DOLLARS A YEAR.

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[Illustration]

A VIRGINIA CAVALIER.

BY MOLLY ELLIOT SEAWELL.

CHAPTER II.


The full flood of the sun, now low in the heavens, poured through the
western windows upon the figure of the boy standing in the doorway. The
room was beginning to darken, and the ruddy firelight, too, fell
glowingly upon him.

The Earl was instantly roused, and could scarcely persuade himself that
the boy before him was only fifteen; seventeen, or even eighteen, would
have seemed nearer the mark, so tall and well-developed was he. Like all
creatures of the highest breeding, George looked handsomer the handsomer
his dress; and although his costume was really simple enough, he had the
splendid air that made him always appear to be in the highest fashion.
His coat and knee-breeches were of dark blue cloth, spun, woven, and
dyed at home. His waistcoat, however, was of white brocade, and was made
of his mother's wedding-gown, Madam Washington having indulged her pride
so far as to lay this treasured garment aside for waistcoats for her
sons, while Mistress Betty was to inherit the lace veil and the string
of pearls which had gone with the gown.

George's shoebuckles and knee-buckles were much finer than the Earl's,
being of paste, and having been once worn by his father. His blond hair
was made into a club and tied with a black ribbon, while under his arm
he carried a smart three-cornered hat--for the hat made a great figure
in the ceremonious bows of the period. His dog; a beautiful creature,
stood beside him.

Never in all his life had the Earl of Fairfax seen so noble a boy. The
sight of him smote the older man's heart; it flashed through him how
easy it would be to exchange all his honors and titles for such a son.
He rose and saluted him, as Madam Washington said, in a tone that had
pride in every accent,

"My lord, this is my son, Mr. Washington."

George responded with one of those graceful inclinations which, years
after, made the entrance of Colonel Washington at the Earl of Dunmore's
levee at Williamsburg a lesson in grace and good-breeding. Being "Mr.
Washington" and the head of the house, it became his duty to speak
first:

"I am most happy to welcome you, my lord, to our home."

"And I am most happy," said the Earl, "to meet once more my old friend
Madam Washington, and the goodly sons and sweet daughter with which she
has been blessed."

"My mother has often told us of you, sir, in speaking of her life during
the years she spent in England."

"Ah, my lord," said Madam Washington, "I perceive I am no longer young,
for I love to dwell upon those times, and to tell my children of the
great men I met in England, chiefly through your lordship's kindness."

"It was my good fortune," said the Earl, "to be a humble member of the
Spectator Club, and through the ever-lasting goodness of Mr. Joseph
Addison I had the advantage of knowing men so great of soul and so
luminous of mind that I think I can never forget them."

"I had not the honor of knowing Mr. Addison. He died before I ever saw
England," replied Madam Washington.

"Unfortunately, yes, madam. But of those you knew, Mr. Pope, poor
Captain Steele, and even Dean Swift, with all his ferocious wit, his
tremendous invective, his savage thirst for place and power, respected
Mr. Addison. He was a man of great dignity--not odd and misshapen, like
little Mr. Pope, not frowsy like poor Dick Steele, nor rude and
overbearing like the fierce Dean--but ever gentle, mild, and of a most
manly bearing. For all Mr. Addison's mildness, I think there was no man
that Dean Swift feared so much. When we would all meet at the club, and
the Dean would begin his railing at persons of quality--for he always
chose that subject when I was present--Mr. Addison would listen with a
smile to the Dean as he lolled over the table in his huge periwig and
roared out in his great rich voice all the sins of all the people,
always beginning and ending with Sir Robert Walpole, whom he hated most
malignantly. Once, a pause coming in the Dean's talk, Mr. Addison,
calmly taking out his snuff-box and helping himself to a pinch, remarked
that he had always thought Dean Swift's chiefest weakness, until he had
been assured to the contrary, was his love for people of quality. We
each held our breath. Dick Steele quietly removed a pewter mug from the
Dean's elbow; Mr. Pope, who sat next Mr. Addison, turned pale and
slipped out of his chair; the Dean turned red and breathed hard, glaring
at Mr. Addison, who only smiled a little; and then he--the great Dean
Swift, the man who could make governments tremble and Parliaments
afraid; who made duchesses weep from his rude sneers, and great ladies
almost go down on their knees to him--sneaked out of the room at this
little thrust from Mr. Addison. For 'twas the man, madam--the honest
soul of him--that could cow that great swashbuckler of a genius. Mr.
Addison abused no one, and he was exactly what he appeared to be."

"That, indeed, is the highest praise, as it shows the highest wisdom,"
answered Madam Washington.

George listened with all his mind to this. He had read the _Spectator_,
and Mr. Addison's tragedy of _Cato_ had been read to him by Mr. Hobby,
the Scotch schoolmaster who taught him, and he loved to hear of these
great men. The Earl, although deep in talk with Madam Washington, was by
no means unmindful of the boy, but, without seeming to notice him,
watched every expression of his earnest face.

"I once saw Dean Swift," continued Madam Washington. "It was at a London
rout, where I went with my brother's wife, Madam Joseph Ball, when we
were visiting in London. He had great dark eyes, and sat in a huge
chair, and called ladies of quality 'my dear,' as if they were
dairy-maids. And the ladies seemed half to like it and half to hate it.
They told me that two ladies had died of broken hearts for him."

"I believe it to be true," replied the Earl. "That was the last time the
Dean ever saw England. He went to Ireland, and, as he said, 'commenced
Irishman in earnest,' and died very miserably. He could not be bought
for money, but he could very easily be bribed with power."

"And that poor Captain Steele?"

The Earl's grave face was suddenly illuminated with a smile.

"Dear Dick Steele--the softest-hearted, bravest, gentlest
fellow--always drunk, and always repenting. There never was so great a
sermon preached on drunkenness as Dick Steele himself was. But for drink
he would have been one of the happiest, as he was by nature one of the
best and truest gentlemen in the world; but he was weak, and he was in
consequence forever miserable. Drink brought him to debts and duns and
prison and rags and infamy. Ah, madam, 'twould have made your heart
bleed, as it made mine, to see poor Dick reeling along the street,
dirty, unkempt, his sword bent, and he scarce knowing what he was doing;
and next day, at home, where his wife and children were in hunger and
cold and poverty, behold him, lying in agony on his wretched bed,
weeping, groaning, reproaching himself, and suffering tortures for one
hour's wicked indulgence! Then would he turn gentleman again, and for a
long time be our own dear Dick Steele--his wife smiling, his children
happy. I love to think on honest Dick at these times. It was then he
wrote that beautiful little book, which should be in every soldier's
hands, _The Christian Hero_. We could always tell at the club whether
Dick Steele were drunk or sober by Mr. Addison's face. When Steele was
acting the beast, Mr. Addison sighed often and looked melancholy all the
time, and spent his money in taking such care as he could of the poor
wife and children. Poor Dick! The end came at last in drunkenness and
beastliness; but before he died, for a little while, he was the Dick
Steele we loved, and shall ever love."

"And Mr. Pope--the queer little gentleman--who lived at Twickenham, and
was so kind to his old mother?"

"Mr. Pope was a very great genius, madam, and had he not been born
crooked he would have been an admirable man; but the crook in his body
seemed to make a crook in his mind. He died but last year, outliving
many strong men who pitied his puny frame. But let me not disparage Mr.
Pope. My Lord Chesterfield, who was a very good judge of men, as well as
the first gentleman of his time, entertained a high esteem for Mr.
Pope."

"I also had the honor of meeting the Earl of Chesterfield," continued
Madam Washington, with animation, "and he well sustained the reputation
for politeness that I had heard of him, for he made as much of me as if
I had been a great lady instead of a young girl from the colonies, whom
chance and the kindness of a brother had brought to England, and your
lordship's goodness had introduced to many people of note. 'Tis true I
saw them but for a glimpse or two, but that was enough to make me
remember them forever. I have tried to teach my son Lord Chesterfield's
manner of saluting ladies, in which he not only implied the deepest
respect for the individual, but the greatest reverence for all women."

"That is true of my Lord Chesterfield," replied the Earl, who found it
enchanting to recall these friends of his youth with whom he had lived
in close intimacy, "and his manners revealed the man. He had also a
monstrous pretty wit. There is a great lumbering fellow of prodigious
learning, one Samuel Johnson, with whom my Lord Chesterfield has become
most friendly. I never saw this Johnson myself, for he is much younger
than the men of whom we are speaking; but I hear from London that he is
a wonder of learning, and although almost indigent, will not accept aid
from his friends, but works manfully for the booksellers. He has
described my Lord Chesterfield as 'a wit among lords, and a lord among
wits.' I heard something of this Dr. Johnson, in a late letter from
London, that I think most praiseworthy, and affording a good example to
the young. His father, it seems, was a bookseller at Lichfield, where on
market-days he would hire a stall in the market for the sale of his
wares. One market-day, when Samuel was a youth, his father, being ill
and unable to go himself, directed him to fit up the book-stall in the
market and attend to it during the day. The boy, who was otherwise a
dutiful son, refused to do this. Many years afterwards, his father being
dead, Johnson, being as he is in great repute for learning, was so
preyed upon by remorse for his undutiful conduct that he went to
Lichfield and stood bareheaded in the market-place, before his father's
old stall, for one whole market-day, as an evidence of his sincere
penitence. I hear that some of the thoughtless jeered at him, but the
better class of people respected his open acknowledgment of his
fault--the more so as he was in a higher worldly position than his
father had ever occupied, and it showed that he was not ashamed of an
honest parent because he was of a humble class. I cannot think, madam,
of that great scholar, standing all day with bare, bowed head, bearing
with silent dignity the remarks of the curious, the jeers of the
scoffers, without in spirit taking off my hat to him."

During this story Madam Washington fixed her eyes on George, who 
slightly, but remarked, as the Earl paused:

"It was the act of a brave man and a gentleman. There are not many of us
who could do it."

Just then the door opened, and Uncle Jasper, bearing a huge tray,
entered. He placed it on a round mahogany table, and Madam Washington
proceeded to make tea, and offered it to the Earl with her own hands.

The Earl, while drinking his tea, glanced first at George and then at
pretty little Betty, who, feeling embarrassed at the notice she
received, produced her sampler from her pocket and began to work
demurely in cross stitch on it. Presently Lord Fairfax noticed the open
harpsichord.

"I remember, madam," he said to Madam Washington, as they gravely sipped
their tea together, "that you had a light hand on the harpsichord."

"I have never touched it since my husband's death," answered she, "but
my daughter Betty can perform with some skill."'

Mistress Betty, obeying a look from her mother, rose at once and went to
the harpsichord, never thinking of the ungraceful and disobliging
protest of more modern days. She seated herself, and struck boldly into
"The Marquis of Huntley's Rigadoon." She had, indeed, a skilful little
hand, and as the touch of her small fingers filled the room with quaint
music the Earl sat tapping with his foot to mark the time, and smiling
at the little maid's grave air while she played. When her performance
was over she rose, and, making a reverence to her mother and her guest,
returned to her sampler.

The Earl had now spent nearly two hours with his old friend, and the sun
was near setting, but he could scarcely make up his mind to leave. The
interest he felt in her seemed transferred to her children, especially
the two elder, and the resolve entered his mind that he would see more
of that splendid boy. He turned to George and said to him:

"Will you be so good, Mr. Washington, as to order my people to put to my
horses, as I find that time has flown surprisingly fast?"

"Will you not stay the night, my lord?" asked Madam Washington. "We can
amply accommodate you and your servants."

"Nothing would please me more, madam, but it is my duty to reach
Fredericksburg to-night, where I have business, and I am now seeking a
ferry where I can be moved across."

"Then you have not to seek far, sir, for this place is called Ferry
Farm; and we have several small boats, and a large one that will easily
hold your coach; and, with the assistance of your servants, all of them,
as well as your horses, can be ferried over at once."

The Earl thanked her, and George left the room promptly to make the
necessary arrangements. In a few moments the horses were put to the
coach, as the ferry was half a mile from the house; and George, ordering
his saddle clapped on his horse, that was just then being brought from
the pasture, galloped down to the ferry to superintend the
undertaking--not a light one--of getting a coach, eight horses, and
eight persons across the river.

The coach being announced as ready, Madam Washington and the Earl rose
and walked together to the front porch, accompanied by little Mistress
Betty, who hung fondly to her mother's hand. Outside stood the three
younger boys, absorbed in contemplation of the grandeur of the equipage.
They came forward promptly to say good-by to their mother's guest, and
then slipped around into the chimney-corner, that they might see the
very last of the sight so new to them. Little Betty also disappeared in
the house after the Earl had gallantly kissed her hand, and predicted
that her bright eyes would yet make many a heart ache. Left alone on the
porch in the twilight with Madam Washington, he said to her, very
earnestly:

"Madam, I do not speak the language of compliment when I say that you
may well be the envy of persons less fortunate than you when they see
your children. Of your eldest boy I can truly say I never saw a nobler
youth, and I hope you will place no obstacle in the way of my seeing him
again. Greenway Court is but a few days' journey from here, and if I
could have him there it would be one of the greatest pleasures I could
possibly enjoy."

"Thank you, my lord," answered Madam Washington, simply. "My son George
has, so far, never caused me a moment's uneasiness, and I can very well
trust him with persons less improving to him than your lordship. It is
my wish that he should have the advantage of the society of learned and
polished men, and your kind invitation shall some day be accepted."

"You could not pay me a greater compliment, madam, than to trust your
boy with me, and I shall claim the fulfilment of your promise," replied
Lord Fairfax. "Farewell, madam; the sincere regard I have cherished
during nearly twenty years for you will be extended to your children,
and your son shall never want a friend while I live. I do not know that
I shall ever travel three days' journey from Greenway again, so this may
be our last meeting."

"Whether it be or not, my lord," said Madam Washington, "I can only
assure you of my friendship and gratitude for your good-will towards my
son."

The Earl then respectfully kissed her hand, as he had done little
Betty's, and stepped into the coach. With a great smacking of whips and
rattle and clatter and bang the equipage rolled down the road in the
dark towards the ferry.

A faint moon trembled in the heavens, and it was so dark that torches
were necessary on the river-bank. George had dismounted from his horse,
and with quiet command had got everything in readiness to transport the
cavalcade. The Earl, sitting calmly back in the chariot, watched the
proceedings keenly. He knew that it required good judgment in a boy of
fifteen to take charge of the ferriage of so many animals and men
without haste or confusion. He observed that in the short time George
had preceded him everything was exactly as it should be--the large boat
drawn up ready for the coach, and two smaller boats and six stalwart
<DW64> ferrymen to do the work.

"I have arranged, my lord, with your permission," he said, "to ferry the
coach and horses, with your own servants, over first, as it is not worth
while taking any risks in crowding the boats; then, when the boats
return, the outriders and their horses may return in the large boat."

"Quite right, Mr. Washington," answered the Earl, briskly; "your
dispositions do credit to you, and I believe you could transport a
regiment with equal ease and precision."

George's face  with pleasure at this. "I shall go on with you
myself," he said, "if you will allow me."

The boat was drawn up, a rude but substantial raft was run from the
shore to the boat, the horses were taken from the coach, and it was
rolled on board by the strong arms of a dozen men. The horses were
disposed to balk at getting in the boat, but, after a little coaxing,
trotted quietly aboard; the ferrymen, re-enforced by two of Lord
Fairfax's servants, took the oars, and the boat, followed by two smaller
ones, was pulled rapidly across the river. After a few minutes, seeing
that everything was going right, George entered the coach and sat by the
Earl's side. The Earl lighted his travelling-lamp, and the two sat in
earnest conversation. Lord Fairfax wished to find out something more
about the boy who had made so strong an impression on him. He found that
George had been well taught, and although not remarkable in general
literature, he knew more mathematics than most persons of twice his age
and opportunities. He had been under the care of the old Scotchman, Mr.
Hobby, who was, in a way, a mathematical genius, and George had profited
by it.

"And what, may I ask, Mr. Washington, is your plan for the future?"

"I hope, sir," answered George, modestly, "that I shall be able to get a
commission in his Majesty's army or navy. As you know, although I am my
mother's eldest son, my brother Laurence, of Mount Vernon, is my
father's eldest son, and the head of our family. My younger brothers and
I have small fortunes, and I would like to see something of the world
and some service in arms before I set myself to increasing my part."

"Very creditable to you, and you may count upon whatever influence I
have towards getting you a commission in either branch of the military
service. I myself served in the Low Countries under the Duke of
Marlborough in my youth, and although I have long since given up the
profession of arms, I can never lose my interest in it. Your honored
mother has promised me the pleasure of your company for a visit at
Greenway Court, when we may discuss the matter of your commission at
length. I am not far from an old man, Mr. Washington, but I retain my
interest in youth, and I like to see young faces about me at Greenway."

"Thank you, my lord," answered George, with secret delight. "I shall not
let my mother forget her promise--but she never does that."

"There is excellent sport at Greenway, and I have kept a choice breed of
deer-hounds, as well as fox-hounds. I brought with me from England a
considerable library, and you can, I hope, amuse yourself with a book;
but if you cannot amuse yourself with a book, you will always be
dependent upon others for your entertainment."

"I am fond of reading--on rainy days," said George; at which candid
acknowledgment the Earl smiled.

What a delightful vista this opened before George, who was, like other
healthy-minded boys, devoted to reading and hearing of battles, and
fencing, and all manly sports! He glanced at Lance, standing erect and
soldierly, as the boat moved through the water. He meant to hear all
about the siege of Bouchain from Lance before the year was out, and
blushed when he was obliged to acknowledge to himself that he had never
heard of the siege of Bouchain.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]




HOW MAGIC IS MADE.

BY HENRY HATTON.

V.


About the year 1864 Carl Herrmann introduced at the old Academy of
Music, New York, a trick never seen here before, which he called "The
Miser." It has since become common, and, under the more prosaic title of
"Catching Money in the Air," is exhibited more or less skilfully by many
of the present-day conjurers. None, however, has presented it so
artistically as the originator, for in his hands it was a very clever
bit of melodramatic acting.

Borrowing a hat from the audience, he crept about the dimly lighted
stage to the accompaniment of weird music, and with eager eyes and
avaricious clutch seemingly plucked from the air half-dollars
innumerable, which he deposited in the hat, until he had accumulated
twenty-five or thirty.

[Illustration: FIG. 1.]

[Illustration: FIG. 2.]

[Illustration: FIG. 3.]

More modern conjurers have tried to improve on Herrmann's method by
using apparatus of one kind or another in the trick, but he relied
exclusively on his ability to palm a coin.

As it will be necessary for my readers first to master this important
element of conjuring, I shall try to teach it before explaining the
other details of the trick. To palm a coin, hold it lightly between the
tips of the second and third fingers and the thumb of either hand, as
shown in Fig. 1. Balancing it on the finger-tips, let the thumb resume
its normal position, and at the same moment let the two fingers press
the coin into the hollow of the palm. See Fig. 2. Now contract the thumb
so that the coin will be held by the ball on one side, and on the other
by the opposite fleshy part of the hand, as in Fig. 3. Though at first
it may be difficult to press the coin into the exact position, practice
will soon make it easy.

The beginner is apt to try to have his hand appear perfectly flat when
seen from the back; but let him notice the open hand of a friend as it
hangs in a normal condition, and he will find that it is slightly
arched. Supposing that my reader is now an adept at palming, let us
proceed with "The Miser" as Herrmann did it.

When he came on the stage he held twenty-five or thirty coins in his
left hand and one coin in his right. As an excuse for keeping the left
hand closed it grasped the lower part of the lapel of his coat. In the
right hand he carried his wand, or badge of office, a round ebony stick
about eighteen inches long, fitted at the ends with ivory ferrules.

Approaching some man in the audience, he asked for a high hat, and as it
was handed to him he thrust the left hand inside of it, the thumb only
remaining outside to grasp the rim. Extending his arms, he struck the
left arm with his wand and the closed right hand, asking the nearest
person to feel his arms and body so as to assure himself that nothing
was concealed there. This examination over, he turned to go back to the
stage, throwing his wand ahead of him, and letting the coin in the right
hand slip into his sleeve.

Now began his search for the money. As he moved about the stage the
audience was allowed to see that the right hand was empty. Suddenly he
grasped at the air, and then peering into his hand, he struck his
forehead as if in despair at finding nothing. Then as the right hand
fell to his side the sleeved half-dollar slipped into it.

Now began the money hunt in earnest. With his right side toward the
audience, he again clutched at the air, and this time, letting the coin
drop to his finger-tips, showed it. Then he tossed it visibly, so that
all might see it, into the hat, where it was heard to fall. The next
moment, as if with the instinct of the miser, he took it out again and
pressed it to his lips, and once more threw it into the hat. This time,
however, he only apparently did so, for as the hand went inside the hat
he palmed the coin, and let drop one of the coins from the left hand
instead.

Round and round the stage he went, catching the coin, palming it, and
apparently adding it to the store in the hat, which was each time
supplied from the left hand.

When only four or five coins were left in the hand, he actually threw
the coin which he "caught" into the hat, turned the empty hand toward
the audience--without speaking, however, for the whole trick was carried
out in pantomime--and then placing it inside the hat, as if to hold it,
took the remaining coins from the left hand. Withdrawing that hand, he
turned it, palm outward, toward the audience, and then took the hat with
it again, this time keeping the fingers outside. In the mean time he had
palmed the four or five remaining coins, for it is as easy for the
practised conjurer to palm six as one. These coins he proceeded to
"catch," one at a time--which requires considerable practice--and threw
each visibly into the hat. This last move set at rest any suspicions
which might exist that he had been using one coin throughout the trick.

During the course of the trick, Herrmann at times pretended to pass the
coin through the bottom or side of the hat. To do this he merely showed
the coin, which he palmed as his hand approached the hat, and let the
tips of his fingers touch the plush, as if pushing the coin through. At
the same time he dropped a coin from the left hand, and the chink as it
came in contact with the others heightened the illusion.

Herrmann played to very large audiences, and this trick proved so
popular that Robert Heller decided to reproduce it; but he varied it as
follows: Besides the lot of half-dollars in his left hand, he had six or
eight in his right. Making a grab at the air, he thus "caught" a number
of coins, which he appeared to throw into the hat. In fact, he merely
closed his hand over the captured coins without any palming, and let six
or eight drop from his left hand. Of course his stock was soon
exhausted; but when that happened he threw the coins from his right hand
bodily into the hat. Then for the next two or three times when he
grabbed at the air he kept the right hand closed, and putting the empty
hand over the hat, shook up the coins already in, thus giving the
impression that he had thrown a number of coins in. Finally he went
among his audience, and taking a heaping handful of coins out of the
hat, poured them back, retaining six or seven in his hand. These latter
he then shook from a lady's handkerchief or her muff, or pretended to
take them from the long whiskers of some man.

Two or three years later Hartz did the trick, and as he could not palm a
coin, he used a flat tin tube which held about six coins. This tube hung
by a hook inside the right breast of his vest; the lower end just
reached the bottom of the vest. By putting the tips of the fingers under
the vest and pressing a lever, a coin dropped into the hand, and the
performer was thus enabled, from time to time, to show a half-dollar and
throw it into the hat. The other times he merely pretended to catch a
coin, and put his closed empty hand over the mouth of the hat, and "made
believe," as the children say, to drop the money in.

Another mechanical arrangement that is used by some performers is
strapped just above the wrist, inside the sleeve, and is so constructed
that by extending the arm suddenly a coin is shot out by means of a
spring to about the tips of the fingers, and the performer really
catches it. Still another coin-holder is used, but the pump-handle
movement necessary to release the coins is inartistic. There is one
little wrinkle, however, in connection with this trick which is worth
describing and worth using. It is a coin with a tiny hole drilled
through it near its edge. A human hair or a bit of fine sewing silk is
run through this hole and formed into a loop. In this way the coin is
hung from the thumb. When the performer wishes to "catch" it, a slight
jerk brings it to the front of the hand, where he seizes it; and as he
puts it into the hat he lets it swing to the back of the hand, which can
then be shown empty.

A very good trick, somewhat akin to palming, is done with five
half-dollars. In palming proper, a new coin with a sharp, milled edge is
the best to use, as the milling helps to hold it in place, but for this
trick well-worn pieces of money which have become quite smooth are
necessary.

[Illustration: FIG. 4.]

[Illustration: FIG. 5.]

[Illustration: FIG. 6.]

Begin by rolling up the sleeves so that the arms are bared. Hold the
left-hand extended, palm upwards, and on the tip of each finger and
thumb balance a coin. Place the right hand on top of the left, so that
the money is held between the tips of the fingers of the two hands. Now
turn the hands until the back of the right hand is towards the audience,
as in Fig. 4. Fix your eyes on the ceiling, as if that had something to
do with the trick; move the hands rapidly upward and downward twice, and
while doing so bring the tips of the fingers together, causing the coins
to lap one over another. Then surround them, as it were, with the tips
of the left hand fingers and thumb, and quickly slide them down into the
right palm, where they are to be held by pressing on them with the tip
of the left thumb; finally, at almost the same moment make a third
upward move, keeping the hands together and the eyes fixed above; the
hands will appear to be empty and the coins to have vanished. Figs. 5
and 6 show the fronts and backs of the hands. During the applause which
always follows this trick, quietly withdraw your thumb, close the right
hand over the money, and put it noiselessly away, either in your pocket
or other receptacle.

The mere learning of a move like palming is hardly interesting unless it
avails for some trick. As "The Miser" is not suitable for all occasions,
here is a little trick which will answer to show my amateur friend's
proficiency:

Place two half-dollar's on a table. Pick up one with the right hand,
palm it, and pretend to place it in the left hand. To do this naturally
let the tips of the right-hand fingers touch the left hand, and at the
same time close that hand and draw the other away. To the general
spectator it will appear as if the coin really remained in the left
hand. Turn the left wrist, so that the back of the hand will be toward
your audience.

Now pick up the second coin with the tips of the right-hand fingers and
thumb, cry, "Pass!" Clink the two coins together, and it will seem as if
the left-hand coin had at that moment passed to the right.

Besides the method of palming described, which may be called the
orthodox, there are several other methods, one of which I will briefly
describe.

[Illustration: FIG. 7.]

[Illustration: FIG. 8.]

With the palm upward, hold the coin between the thumb and second finger
of the left hand, the tip of the forefinger touching it from below, as
in Fig. 7. Let the right thumb go under and the other fingers over it,
as if taking it. If at the same time you withdraw the right forefinger
and release the grasp of the thumb and second finger, the coin will fall
into the left palm, as in Fig. 8. Close the right hand and hold it
aloft, letting the left hand drop to the side or rest on the hip. The
effect is exactly as if the coin had been taken away by the right hand.

The coin may be made to appear as if taken from the leg by merely
dropping it to the tips of the left-hand fingers, which must then be
laid on the spot it is desired to have it appear.

If, instead of a coin, a small ball is used, a very laughable effect may
be produced by appearing to swallow it. To do this show the ball, throw
it into the air once or twice, and at last palm it. Place the
gathered-up tips of the fingers and thumb to the lips, and at that
moment thrust the tongue into the left cheek, which will give it the
appearance of having the ball there. Point to the cheek with the right
forefinger; then let the right hand drop to the side, holding the ball
palmed. To reproduce it lift the lower front of the vest with the left
hand, and thrusting the right hand under, let the ball find its way to
the finger-tips; leave it under the vest a second, and then withdraw it
slowly.




THE HIDDEN TREASURE OF KING OBANI.

BY RICHARD BARRY.


This is the story of an American boy in far-off Africa. He was sixteen
years of age--very near seventeen, in fact--at the time of this tale;
but he had led such a strange life and had been in so many places that
he had probably seen more of the world than many grown men who consider
themselves great travellers.

The boy's name did not have an American sound; it was Malcolm McFee, and
that is Scotch, as any one can tell at half a glance, and the only
reason he was an American was because he happened to be born in the
United States, on the <DW72>s of the Sierra Nevada.

In his early youth Malcolm's father had been a sailor, and after that a
soldier of the Queen in India, where, after serving bravely, and being
wounded in one of the campaigns against the mountain tribes, he had
taken it into his head to leave before his time was up, and start on the
peculiar crusade which filled the next thirty years or so of his life,
and which, at the end of that time found him in the far-away diamond and
gold country of the dark continent.

One day Malcolm McFee was sitting in front of the little sheet-iron
house in which he and his father lived off in the interior of one of the
British Colonies in South Africa, when he saw the latter coming rapidly
towards him with his arms swinging. Mr. McFee was a small wiry man, all
thews and sinews. He had never abused himself in any way, and he could
strike a trot and hold it open-mouthed all day like a dog. He was loping
along through the dust, and Malcolm saw that he was evidently laboring
under some excitement. Now his father was never despondent or cast down,
but he was sometimes more enthusiastic than at others, that was all, and
never had the boy seen his father so wrought up as at this very moment.
He entered the house and closed the door behind him. Then, not even
breathing hard from his running, he put both hands on Malcolm's
shoulders, and exclaimed, "Laddie, laddie, but we are going to strike it
rich!"

Now Malcolm had heard this before, so he waited for further
developments. But the strange tale that was told him succeeded at last
in arousing even his calmer nature.

A year previously the British government had conducted a campaign way to
the northwest of the South African Dutch republic. They had humbled the
little black native King and made him pay tribute, but the loot and
treasure that they expected to find (for he had been reputed to be
wealthy) were not forth-coming. This is the key to this story, and there
is no use of going into the details of the conversation between Malcolm
and his father. It is what they did that is interesting--and what took
place afterwards.

That night an Englishman named Gifford, a tall, gaunt, fanatical-looking
being, entered their hut. He was accompanied by a gray-headed, wizened
<DW64>, whose ribs and joints showed plainly beneath his shrivelled,
dusty skin. A rather remarkable council was held--the Englishman
translating as the <DW64> talked.

"He says he knows exactly the place," Gifford said. "He saw them burying
it, and after they had walked away from the spot old Obani had every one
of the men who digged for him killed--heads chopped off, you know.
That's the reason Tommy Atkins didn't find anything up there, eh?
Listen, man! We can get it--gold and sparklers! old Grumpah here
says--handfuls of them. Are you game, man, to try it? I tell you frankly
why I come to you," Gifford continued. "I know you can be trusted, and
we will need some money for the outfit. I say, old Juggins, come, are
you with me?"

"How did you get such a hold over the old boy?" asked Mr. McFee, nodding
towards the squatting black figure.

"That's a short story," answered the Englishman, laughing. "I have had
my eye on him for a long time. He let something slip once, and I tell
you, man, I worked with my hands to keep that old nig in idleness--for
three years I've worked for him. I arranged it so that he thinks I saved
his life, too; and that was easy. And now the point--will you join me?"

This question was superfluous, as any one who had known Malcolm's father
would have testified.

Three weeks later two large ox-carts, with four blacks to drive them,
and three white men--at least two white men and a boy--were treaking
across the flat plains, equipped apparently for a hunting excursion into
the game-abounding country where beasts with strange horns and names are
found in plenty, and where the lion's roar often breaks the stillness of
the night.

Privation and hardship, death and disease they faced, and at last, a
month later, with only one wagon left, and the loss of one of the <DW64>
drivers (by drowning at a river ford) they arrived at the great fertile
border-land that edges the deep forest of the outermost possessions of
King Obani, chief of the Bangwalis. Here they rested for a week,
regaining strength, for they had made the trip in the unhealthy season
of the year. They had traded their way peaceably, so far, with what
natives they had met, and had encountered no hostile resistance. But the
hardest work was yet to come.

Leaving the cattle in charge of one of the natives in a little hidden
valley, the four men and Malcolm entered the shadows of the forest. For
ten days they struggled on, cutting their way slowly through the massive
undergrowth. Each one was laden down with a heavy pack, pickaxes, and
long-handled shovels, not forgetting a few coils of rope, and iron bolts
which came in handy afterwards. Besides, the three white men (I can
speak of Malcolm as a man) carried rifles and well-filled
cartridge-boxes.

On the tenth day old Grumpah, who was leading, stopped and made a
strange clucking sound, the sound that the African used universally to
attract attention. He pointed with his long bony arm. Half hidden by the
vines and weeds lay a white rain-washed skeleton, and only a few feet
away lay another. They counted thirty of them in all. It was here that
the sharers of King Obani's secret had been put past the revealing of
it. Grumpah was talking excitedly now, using long words, but Malcolm had
picked up a little of the language, and he caught the gist of it even
before Gifford turned and spoke.

"Old 'Grumpah' says it is only five miles further on," he whispered.

For some time they had been following quite a distinct path, and now it
was better going. In a little over an hour, Gifford, who had forged
ahead, uttered a shout that startled some great billed birds squawking
out of the tree-tops.

"By George," the Englishman exclaimed, "the old fellow has not lied!
Here is the place."

It was evident that a clearing had been made, and at the foot of a great
white-trunked tree a mound could be seen covered and grown with
underbrush, but hanging from the branch of a tall bush was a strange
object. It was an ordinary gin bottle with a label blown into the glass,
and on another branch hung a dinner-bell with the clapper removed.
Gifford struck the bell with the point of his rifle--it tinkled
musically in the silence, and he said, "Come in," jocosely. Mr. McFee's
eyes, however, were shining like coals; he removed his coat and laid
about him with an axe, cutting away the shrubbery and clearing up the
ground. Evidently the mound had been made by hands--no mistaking that.

"Ask him how deep it is," Mr. McFee said, eagerly, driving the point of
a pickaxe into the earth.

"The depth of four men!" returned Gifford--"less than thirty feet. How
long will it take us?"

McFee looked about him.

"Four days at the most," he said, "if it is easy digging. But now let us
go at it right and dig it well fashion. We must make a windlass."

Even before dark--and it grows dark very suddenly in the African
forest--a rough winch had been constructed from the trunk of a tree;
with the aid of the iron bolts it was strongly held together, and
handles were placed on each end, so they could be worked the way a
bucket is lowered and raised in a mine shaft. By noon the next day all
this was completed and the digging fairly commenced. When they had gone
down some ten feet or more, and it became difficult to throw up the
spadefuls of the black rich earth, the windlass was placed in position,
a basket constructed with the aid of twigs and vines, and the two
<DW64>s were set to work hauling the earth to the surface as the white
men below filled the improvised carrier. Malcolm's back ached from the
constant bending and lifting, but his father labored as might a fireman
in a burning house, and Gifford, stripped to the waist and dripping with
perspiration like a stoker, delved with the strength of two men. Twenty
feet, twenty-five feet, thirty feet were reached, and the only
encouraging thing about it was that there were signs that the earth had
been disturbed before them.

At noon of the third day they had all gone to the surface except Sandy
McFee, when the latter gave utterance to a shout from the shaft,

"Here's something," he called; "look out!"

A shining object thrown from his hand sailed up from out the shaft. It
was another gin bottle. (Alas! the mark of on-sweeping civilization.)

It struck against the handle of the windlass and shivered into a hundred
sparkling bits. One of them fell at Malcolm's feet.

"Look out, McFee, you idiot!" cried Gifford, springing up. "You came
near braining us."

"I have struck a layer of tree trunks," came the answer from below. "The
treasure must be underneath."

But Malcolm was sitting there gazing at something that he held between
his thumb and forefinger.

"What's the matter, lad?" asked Gifford, turning.

Malcolm handed the shining thing up to him.

"Diamonds!" exclaimed the older man, with a gasp; "the bottle was filled
with 'em!"

Most of its contents had fallen back into the shaft. Gifford slipped the
stone into his mouth and made a spring for the rope. He slid down it
sailor fashion, and one of the blacks followed him. Malcolm hastened to
the edge. There they were, on their hands and knees, searching the loose
earth, beneath which showed clearly the heavy beams that protected the
rest of King Obani's treasure.

They were picking things up, objects to right and left, as children do
scattered sugar-plums.

Malcolm had about made up his mind to go down also, when suddenly he
heard a weird call off in the woods. It reminded him of the "coo-ee" of
the Australian bushmen. It was evidently the sound of a human voice.
Another answered it. The black man who had staid on the surface with old
Grumpah and himself gave a startled look around, and without a word put
off into the woods.

"Some one is coming," shouted Malcolm down the shaft.

Again the call was heard. This time those below heard it also.

"Hurry up! get us out!" shouted Gifford. "It's the Bangwalis. I know the
cry."

Hurriedly he emptied the earth out of the basket, and, with Mr. McFee,
stepped inside, holding fast to the rope. Malcolm took one handle and
Grumpah the other. Slowly they turned the windlass that was supporting
more than its usual weight. They had raised it perhaps ten feet or so
when there was a sharp crack, and old Grumpah gave a groan. The handle
on his side had broken. The old man, who had been straining forward with
all his strength, slipped his footing and plunged headlong into the pit.

The weight now was more than Malcolm's arms could stand, and do his best
he could not help the windlass slipping from his grasp. Down went the
basket.

"Are you hurt?" he shouted.

"Steady, Mal, my boy," came his father's voice in reply. "Keep cool. Now
try again. One at a time!"

Malcolm put forth all the might of his strong young back, and slowly the
bucket came to the surface, this time with his father alone.

"The old nig broke his neck," were the first words he said. "Come, get
the others out."

[Illustration: McFEE AND MALCOLM GRASPED THE WINCH HANDLE.]

At this moment, nearer than before, sounded the strange cry. McFee
grasped the winch handle with his son, and they had wound Gifford nearly
to the top, when Malcolm heard a noise and looked up. Not thirty feet
away, parting the bushes, stood a strange figure. Over the top of a long
shield peered an excited black face, and behind it another. The gleam of
a broad spear-head and the tossing of a headdress farther back showed
that there were more to come.

So paralyzed were the natives by astonishment at what they saw that they
stood there for a moment like ebony statues. McFee saw his opportunity.

"Pull hard, boy," he said. "This affair has gone past treating;" and he
stooped quickly and picked up the Martini rifle from the ground. The
shot rang out at once, and the nearest two figures lunged forward, for
the ball had passed through both of them.

Gifford was now swarming up the rope faster than Malcolm could raise the
bucket. A wild cry rang through the woods, but dismayed by the death of
the foremost two, the rest of the Bangwalis had taken to their heels.

"Get your guns," cried Gifford. "We must make for the high ground down
the path."

The black man down at the bottom of the pit set up a piteous howl.

"We can't leave him," cried Malcolm, letting the bucket go by the run.

The <DW64> seized the rope and came up it like a monkey, leaving the body
of poor old Grumpah where he fell. All four now struck off through the
woods to the northward. The cries and the pounding of a tomtom were
heard from the south, and then a wild scream, as it was evident the
blacks had determined on a charge across the open.

"They'll be on us in about five minutes," panted Gifford, looking back
over his shoulder. "What in the world are we to do? We must leave the
path."

They crushed their way through the thickets a dozen yards or so, each
man fighting as if the leaves would drown him, when Malcolm pointed with
his finger. There, towering straight up to the sky, was the trunk of a
huge tree. At the roots was a small opening, large enough to all
appearances for a man to squeeze his way in. No sooner had he seen it
than the black darted toward it on hands and knees like a rabbit, and
before the others could tell what he was going to do, nothing but his
heels were to be seen. Gifford turned and reached up overhead. With the
stroke of his knife he clipped off the top of one of the overhanging
bushes.

"In with you!" he cried--"in with you! That tree trunk is nothing but a
chimney. It will hold us all."

Malcolm and his father and lastly the lanky Englishman crawled into the
damp-smelling interior, and Gifford pulled the ends of the branch in
after him, so that the spreading leaves would hide the opening. Now the
cries sounded all about. On the path not forty feet away a crowd of
natives went by on the rush, the ornaments on their knees jingling as
they ran. Crouching in the crowded space the fugitives waited
breathlessly. They heard more cries, and once some one had passed
through the bushes so close to them that they could hear the swishing of
the leaves. It had grown so dark that perhaps their footprints could not
be seen; their hiding-place was not discovered.

Now a consultation was held.

"I wish old Grumpah was here," said Clifford. "He knows the country."

The black whose teeth were chattering was mumbling something.

"What's that?" asked Gifford, turning to him.

"Ribber not far off," the man replied.

Gifford spoke to him in his own language, and then he addressed the
others in a whisper.

"This boy was a slave to the Bangwalis," he said. "He tells me there is
a stream to the northward. We might make it and find a canoe at the
banks. It's our only chance for life."

"Will we have to leave the treasure behind?" asked Mr. McFee, hoarsely.

"Confound the treasure!" responded Gifford. "It may be the death of us
yet. We have enough white stones to make us rich."

It was midnight, judging as well as they could, when they crawled from
their hiding-place, and there was nothing for it but to take the path
again and go cautiously, as it was impossible in the darkness to travel
through the forest. But after following the path for half an hour it
lightened suddenly, and they perceived that it was only the thick
foliage that had kept the moonlight from reaching them. A few rods
further on they went, and a broad stream lay spread before them. On the
opposite shore lights could be seen, and the sound of wailing voices and
the beating of drums proclaimed the fact that some <DW64> rite was there
in progress. The black man pointed with his finger, and Gifford held up
his hand as an order to halt.

"King Obani, he home," said the <DW64> boy, nodding across the river.
"Three year ago English too 'm. No find gold."

"I know where I am now," whispered Gifford, excitedly. "This river is
the Mmymbi; that is Obani's chief town. Willoughby and the rangers took
it three years ago, and were fooled in getting the loot, don't you
remember. Eh? the idiots!"

"Well, what are we to do?" asked Mr. McFee.

"Thirty-five miles below is an English trading-station," Gifford said,
eagerly. "We must get a boat of some kind."

Tho black had waded knee-deep into the stream. He bent over with his
face close to the water, and then struck out silently.

"Come back here, you black rascal," hissed Gifford, raising his rifle.

But the boy's reply caused him to lower it.

"He says there's a boat tied to the branches of yonder tree," he
murmured.

Now by bending over all could see it plainly. The <DW64> slid over the
side, and soon came back paddling it silently along the shore; the
others crawled in, and now, keeping well in the deep shadow of the
trees, they drifted down the stream; the cries and lights of the
Bangwali village grew fainter and fainter in the distance. When around
the bend of the river Gifford picked up a paddle, and they struck out at
full speed. Three hours' paddling and they were beyond King Obani's
jurisdiction, and by daylight they saw the clearing of the English
trader.

For some reason they chose not to tell their story, and the next morning
as they sat at breakfast a canoe shot down the stream. Some natives
landed.

"Hullo, here's news," said the trader's clerk as he approached the house
after meeting the native boat. "King Obani is dead."

"Then the mystery of his treasure dies with him," said the trader, for
the story was well known.

"Humph," observed Gifford, lighting his pipe.

"Mal, my boy, we'll return for the rest of it some day," whispered Mr.
McFee.

But he never did. Adventure seemed to be killed within him, and he and
Malcolm composed the firm McFee & Son, general merchants, at K----. And
here is where the story comes from.




RICK DALE.

BY KIRK MUNROE,

AUTHOR OF "SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES," "THE FUR-SEAL'S TOOTH," "THE 'MATE'
SERIES," "FLAMINGO FEATHER," ETC.

CHAPTER XXXV.

A GANG OF FRIENDLY LOGGERS.


The month of September was drawing to its close, and the gang of loggers
belonging to Camp No. 10 of the Northwest Lumber Company, which operated
in the vast timber belt clothing the northern flanks of Mount Rainier,
were about to knock off work. From earliest morning the stately forest,
sweet-scented with the odors of resin, freshly cut cedar, and crushed
ferns, had resounded with their shouts and laughter, the ring of their
axes, the steady swish of saws, and the crash of falling trees. To one
familiar only with Eastern logging, where summer is a time of idleness,
and everything depends on the snows of winter, followed by the high
waters of spring, the different methods of these Northwestern woodsmen
would be matters of constant surprise. Their work goes on without a
pause from year's end to year's end. There is no hauling on sleds, no
vast accumulations of logs on the ice of rivers or lakes, no river
driving, no mighty jams to be cleared at imminent risk of life and
limb--nothing that is customary in the East. Even the mode of cutting
down trees is different.

The choppers--or "fallers," as they are called in the Northwest--do not
work, as do their brethren of Maine or Wisconsin, from the ground,
wielding their axes first on one side and then on the other until the
tree falls. The girth of the mighty firs and cedars of that country is
so great at ordinary chopping height that two men working in that way
would not bring down more than two trees in a day, instead of the ten or
a dozen required of them. So, by means of what are known as
"spring-boards," they gain a height of eight or ten feet, and there
begin operations.

The ingenious contrivances that enable them to do this are narrow boards
of tough vine maple, five or six feet long, and about one foot wide.
Each is armed at its inner end with a sharp steel spur affixed to its
upper side. This end being thrust into a notch opened in the tree some
four feet below where the cut is to be made, the weight of a man on its
outer end causes the spur to bite deep into the wood, and to hold the
board firmly in place.

Having determined the direction in which the tree shall fall, and fixed
their spring-boards accordingly, two "fallers" mount them, and chop out
a deep under cut on the side that is to lie undermost. They work with
double-bitted or two-edged axes, and can so truly guide the fall by
means of the under cut that they are willing to set a stake one hundred
feet away and guarantee that the descending trunk shall drive it into
the ground. With the under cut chopped out to their satisfaction, they
remove their spring-boards to the opposite side, and finish the task
with a long, two-handed, coarse-toothed saw.

As the mighty tree yields up its life and comes to the ground with a
grand far-echoing crash, it is set upon by "buckers" (who saw its great
trunk into thirty-foot lengths), barkers, rigging-slingers,
hand-skidders and teamsters, whose splendid horses, aided by tackle of
iron blocks and length of wire-rope, drag it out to the "skid-road."
This is a cleared and rudely graded track, set with heavy cross-ties,
over which the logs may slide, and it is provided with wire cables,
whose half-mile lengths are operated by stationary engines. By this
means "turns" of five or six of the huge logs, chained one behind the
other, are hauled down the winding skid-road through gulch and valley,
to a distant railway landing. There they are loaded on a long train of
heavy flat cars that departs every night for the mills on Puget Sound.
Here the sawed lumber is run aboard waiting ships, and sent in them to
all ports on both shores of the Pacific.

The light-hearted loggers were laughing and joking, lighting their
pipes, picking up tools, and beginning to straggle toward the road that
led to camp, when suddenly big Buck Raulet, the head "faller," who was
keener of hearing than any of his mates, called out:

"Hush up, fellows, and listen! I thought I heard a yell off there in the
timber."

In the silence that followed they all heard a cry, faint and distant,
but so filled with distress that there was no mistaking its import.

"There's surely somebody in trouble!" cried Raulet. "Lost like as not.
Anyway, they are calling to us for help, and we can't go back on 'em. So
come on, men. You teamsters stay here with your horses, and give us a
yell every now and then, so we can come straight back; for even we don't
want to fool round much in these woods after dark. Hello, you out there!
Locate yourselves!"

So the calling and answering was continued for nearly ten minutes, while
the rescuing party, full of curiosity and good-will, plunged through the
gathering gloom, over logs and rocks, through beds of tall ferns and
banks of moss, in which they sank above their ankles, until they came at
length to those whom they were seeking--two lads, one standing and
calling to them, the other lying motionless, where he had fallen in a
dead faint from utter exhaustion.

"You see," explained Alaric, apologetically, half sobbing with joy at
finding himself once more surrounded by friendly faces, "he has been
very ill, and we've had a hard day, with nothing to eat. So he gave out.
I should have too, but just then I heard the sound of chopping, and knew
the light was shining, and--and--" Here the poor tired lad broke down,
sobbing hysterically, and trying to laugh at the same time.

"There! there, son!" exclaimed Buck Raulet, soothingly, but with a
suspicious huskiness in his voice. "Brace up, and forget your troubles
as quick as you can; for they're all over now, and you sha'n't go hungry
much longer. But where did you say you came from?"

"The top of the mountain."

"Not down the north side?"

"Yes."

"Great Scott! you are the first that ever did it, then. How long have
you been on the way?"

"I don't know exactly, but something over a month."

"The poor chap's mind is wandering," said the big man to one of his
companions; "for no one ever came down the north side alive, and no one
could spend a whole month doing it, anyway. I've often heard, though,
that folks went crazy when they got lost in the woods."

The men took turns, two at a time, in carrying Bonny, and Buck Raulet
himself assisted Alaric, until, guided by the shouts of the teamsters,
they reached the point from which they had started.

By this time Bonny had regained consciousness, and was wondering, in a
dazed fashion, what had happened. "Is it all right, Rick?" he asked, as
his comrade bent anxiously over him.

"Yes, old man, it's all right; and the light I told you of is shining
bright and clear at last."

"Queer, isn't it, how the poor lad's mind wanders?" remarked Raulet to
one of the men. "He thinks he sees a bright light, while I'll swear no
one has so much as struck a match. We must hustle, now, and get 'em to
camp. Do you think you feel strong enough to set straddle of a horse,
son?" he asked of Alaric.

"Yes, indeed," answered the boy, cheerfully. "I feel strong enough for
anything now."

"Good for you! That's the talk! Give us a foot and let me h'ist you up.
Why, lad, you're mighty nigh bare-footed! No wonder you didn't find the
walking good. Here, Dick, you lead this horse, while I ride Sal-lal and
carry the little chap."

[Illustration: BONNY WAS CARRIED DOWN THE SKID-ROAD TO THE CAMP.]

Thus saying, the big man vaulted to the back of the other horse, and
reaching down, lifted Bonny up in front of him as though he had been a
child.

Camp was a mile or more away, and as the brawny loggers escorted their
unexpected guests to it down the winding skid-road, they eagerly
discussed the strange event that had so suddenly broken the monotony of
their lives, though, with a kindly consideration, they refrained from
asking Alaric any more questions just then.

"Hurry on, some of you fellows," shouted Raulet, "and light up my shack,
for these chaps are going to bunk in with me to-night. I claim 'em on
account of being the first to hear 'em, you know. Start a fire in the
square, too, so's the place will look cheerful."

No one will ever know how cheerful and homelike and altogether
delightful that logging camp did look to our poor lads after their long
and terrible experience of the wilderness, for they could never
afterwards find words to express what they felt on coming out of the
darkness into its glowing firelight and hearty welcome.

"Stand back, men, and give us a show," shouted Raulet, as they drew up
before his own little "shack," built of split cedar boards. "This isn't
any funeral; same time it ain't no circus parade, and we want to get in
out of the cold."

The entire population of the camp, including the cook and his
assistants, the blacksmith with his helper, and the stable-boys, as well
as the logging gang, were gathered, full of curiosity to witness the
strange arrival. Besides these there was Linton, the boss, with his
wife, who was the only woman in that section of country. Her pity was
instantly aroused for Bonny, and when he had been tenderly placed in
Buck Raulet's own bunk, she insisted on being allowed to feed and care
for him. She would gladly have done the same for Alaric, but he
protested that he was perfectly well able to feed himself, and was only
longing for the chance.

"Of course you are, lad!" cried the big "faller," heartily, "and you
sha'n't go hungry a minute longer. So just you come on with me and the
rest of the gang over to Delmonico's."

The place thus designated was a low but spacious building of logs,
containing the camp kitchen and mess-room. Raulet sat at the head of the
long table, built of hewn cedar slabs, and laden with smoking dishes.
Alaric was given the place of honor at his right hand.

The plates and bowls were of tin; the knives, forks, and spoons were
iron; but how luxurious it all seemed to the guest of the occasion! How
wonderfully good everything tasted, and how the big man beside him
heaped his plate with pork and beans, potatoes swimming in gravy, boiled
cabbage, fresh bread cut in slices two inches thick, and actually butter
to spread on it! After these came a huge pan of crullers and dozens of
dried-apple pies.

How anxiously the men watched him eat, how often they pushed the tin can
of brown sugar toward him to make sure that his bowl of milkless tea
should be sufficiently sweetened, and how pleased they were when he
passed his plate for a second helping of pie!

"You'll do, lad; you'll do!" shouted Buck Raulet, delighted at this
evidence that the camp cookery was appreciated. "You've been brought up
right, and taught to know a good thing when you see it. I can tell by
the way you eat."

After supper Alaric was conducted to a blanket-covered bench near the
big fire outside, and allowed to relate the outline of his story to an
audience that listened with intense interest, and then he was put to bed
beside Bonny, who was already fast asleep. When Buck Raulet picked up
his guest's coat, that had fallen to the floor, and a baseball rolled
from one of its pockets, the big logger exclaimed, softly:

"Bless the lad! He's a genuine out-and-out boy, after all! To think of
his travelling through the mountains with no outfit but a baseball! If
that isn't boy all over, then I don't know!"


CHAPTER XXXVI.

IN A NORTHWEST LOGGING CAMP.

The next day being Sunday, the camp lay abed so late that when Alaric
awoke from his long night of dreamless sleep the sun was more than an
hour high, and streaming full into the open doorway of Buck Raulet's
shack. For nearly a minute the boy lay motionless, striving to recall
what had happened and where he was. Then, as it all came to him, and he
realized that he had escaped from the mountain, with its terrors, its
cold, and its hunger, and had reached a place of safety, good-will, and
plenty, he heaved a deep sigh of content. His sigh was echoed by another
close beside him, and then Bonny's voice said:

"I'm so glad you are awake, Rick, for I want you to tell me all about
it. I've been trying to puzzle it out for myself, but can't be really
sure whether I know anything about last night or only dreamed it all.
Didn't somebody give us something to eat?"

"I should say they did!" rejoined Alaric. "And not only something to
eat, but one of the finest suppers I ever sat down to. Don't you
remember the baked beans, and the apple pie, and-- Oh no, I forgot; you
weren't there; and, by-the-way, how do you feel this morning?"

"Fine as a fiddle," replied Bonny, briskly; "and all ready for those
baked beans and pie; for somehow I don't seem to remember having
anything so good as those."

"I don't believe you did," laughed Alaric, springing from the bunk as he
spoke; "for I'm afraid they only gave you gruel and soup, or tea and
toast."

"Then no wonder I'm hungry," said Bonny, indignantly, as he too began to
dress, "and no wonder I want beans and things. But, I say, Rick, what a
tough-looking specimen you are, anyway!"

"I hope I'm not so tough-looking as you," retorted the other, "for you'd
scare a scarecrow."

Then the boys scanned each other's appearance with dismay. How could
they ever venture outside and among people in the tattered, soiled, and
fluttering garments which were their sole possessions in the way of
clothing? Even their boots had worn away, until there was little left of
them but the uppers. Their hats had been lost during their flight
through the forest, their hair was long and unkempt, while their coats
and trousers were so rent and torn that the wonder was how they ever
held together. As they realized how utterly disreputable they did look,
both boys began to laugh; for they were too light-hearted that morning
to remain long cast down over trifles like personal appearance. At this
sound of merriment Buck Raulet's good-humored face, covered with lather,
appeared in the doorway, and at sight of the ragged lads he too joined
in their laughter.

"You are tramps, that's a fact!" he cried. "Toughest kind, too; such as
I'd never dared take in if I'd seen you by a good light. Never mind,
though," he added, consolingly; "looks are mighty easy altered, and
after breakfast we'll fix you up in such style that you won't recognize
yourselves."

Bonny had baked beans and pie that morning as well as Alaric, for the
fare at that logger's mess-table, bountiful as it was, never varied.
After breakfast the boys found their first chance to take a good look at
the camp, which consisted of nearly twenty buildings, set in the form of
a square beside the skid-road, in a clearing filled with tall stumps of
giant firs and mammoth cedars. The two largest buildings were the
combined mess-hall and kitchen and the sleeping-quarters, containing
tiers of bunks, one for each man employed. Then came the store, which
held a small stock of clothing, boots, tobacco, pipes, knives, and other
miscellaneous articles. All the others were little single-room shacks,
built in leisure moments by such of the men as preferred having
something in the shape of a home to sleeping in the public dormitory.

These tiny dwellings were constructed of sweet-smelling cedar boards,
split from splendid great logs, absolutely straight-grained and free
from knots. Walls, roof, floor, and rude furniture were all made of the
same beautiful wood. Some of the shacks had stone chimneys roughly
plastered with clay, others boasted small porches, and one or two had
both. Buck Raulet's had the largest porch of any, with the added
adornment of climbing vines. This porch also contained seats, and was
considered very elegant; but every one knew that the head "faller" was
engaged to be married to a girl "back East," and said that was the
reason he had built so fine a house. Having little else to amuse them,
the men who put up these shacks labored over them with as much pleasure
as so many boys with their cubby-houses.

Many of the men were anxious to hear a more detailed account of our
lads' recent adventures, but Buck Raulet said:

"Call round this afternoon. We've got something else on hand just now."

When they returned to his picturesque little dwelling the big man led
the way inside, closed the door, and said: "Now, lads, sit down and
let's talk business. What do you propose to do next?"

"I don't think we know," responded Alaric.

"Do you want to go to Tacoma or Seattle?"

"I don't know why we should. We haven't any friends in either place, nor
any money to live on while we look for work."

"None at all?"

"Not one cent. There's a month's wages due us from the Frenchman who
hired us to go up the mountain, but I suppose he has left this part of
the country long ago."

"I suppose he has; and you certainly are playing to such hard luck that
I don't see as you can do any better than stay right here. If you are
willing to work at whatever offers, I shouldn't wonder if the boss could
find something for you to do. At any rate, he might give you a chance to
earn a suit of clothes, and feed you while you were doing it."

"I think we'd be only too glad to stay here and work," replied
Alaric--"wouldn't we, Bonny?"

"Yes, I think we would, only I hope we can earn some money. I've worked
without wages so long now that it is growing very monotonous."

"Well, I'll tell you what," said Raulet: "you two stay right here, while
I go over and see the boss."

A few minutes later the big man returned with beaming face, and
announced that Mr. Linton had consented to take them both on trial, and
had promised to find something for them to do in the morning. Moreover,
they were to go down to the store at once, pick out the things they
needed, and have them charged to their account.

All this Buck Raulet told them; but he did not add that he had been
obliged to pledge his own wages for whatever bill they should run up at
the store, in case they should fail to work it out. The big-hearted
"faller" was willing to do this, for he had taken a great fancy to the
lads, and especially to Alaric. "That chap may be poor," he said, "and I
reckon he is; but he's honest--so are they both, for that matter; and
when a boy is honest, he can't help showing it in his face." These
preliminaries being happily settled, he said, "Now let's get right down
to business; and the first thing to be done is to let me cut your hair
before you buy any hats."

The boys agreeing that this was necessary, the operation was performed
with neatness and despatch; for the big "faller" was equally expert at
cutting hair or trees.

Then they went to the store, where Alaric and Bonny selected complete
outfits of coarse but serviceable clothing, including hats and boots, to
the amount of fifteen dollars each.

"Now for a scrub," suggested Raulet; "and I reckon I need one as much as
you do." With this he led his _protégés_ to a quiet pool in the creek
just back of the camp.

When at noon the boys presented themselves at the mess-room, so magical
was the transformation effected by shears, soap, and water, and their
new clothing, that not a man in the place recognized them, and they had
to be reintroduced to the whole jovial crowd, greatly to Buck Raulet's
delight. By a very natural mistake, he introduced Alaric, whom he had
only heard called "Rick," as Mr. Richard Dale, and the boy did not find
an opportunity for correcting the error just then.

Later in the day, however, when most of the camp population were
gathered in front of Raulet's shack listening with great interest to the
lads' account of their recent experiences, one of them addressed him as
"Richard," whereupon he explained that his name was not Richard, but
Alaric.

"Alaric?" quoth Buck Raulet; "that's a queer name, and one I never
heard before. It's a strong-sounding name too, and one that just fits
such a hearty, active young fellow as you. I should pick out an Alaric
every time for the kind of a chap to come tumbling down a mountain-side
where no one had ever been before. But where did your folks find the
name, son?"

"I'll tell you," replied Alaric, flushing with pleasure at hearing that
said of him; "but first I want to say that it was Bonny Brooks who
showed me how to come down the mountain, and but for him I should
certainly have perished up there in the snow."

"Hold on!" cried Bonny. "Gentlemen, I assure you that but for Rick Dale
I should have had the perishing contract all in my own hands."

"I expect you are a well-mated team," laughed Raulet, "and I am willing
to admit that for whatever comes tumbling down a mountain there couldn't
be a better name than Bonny Brooks. But now let's have the yarn."

So Alaric told them all he could remember of the mighty Visigoth who
invaded Italy at the head of his barbarian host, became master of the
world by conquering Rome when the eternal city was at the height of its
magnificence, and whose tomb was built in the bed of a river temporarily
turned aside for the purpose.

The rough audience grouped about him listened to the tale of a long-ago
hero with flattering interest, and when it was ended declared it to be a
rattling good yarn, at the same time begging for more of the same kind.
Alaric's head was crammed with such stories, for he had always delighted
in them, and now he was only too glad of an opportunity to repay in some
measure the kindly hospitality of the camp. So for an hour or more he
related legends of Old World history, and still older mythology, all of
which were as new to his hearers as though now told for the first time.
Finally he paused, covered with confusion at finding Mr. and Mrs. Linton
standing among his auditors, and waiting for a chance to invite him and
Bonny to tea.

From that time forth Alaric's position as story-teller was established,
and there was rarely an evening during his stay in the camp, where books
were almost unknown, that he was not called upon to entertain an
interested group gathered about its after-supper open-air fire.

Mr. Linton questioned the boys closely as to their capacity for work
while they were at tea with him, and finally said: "I think I can find
places for both of you, if you are willing to work for one dollar a day.
You, Brooks, I shall let tend store and help me with my accounts until
your arm gets stronger, while I think I shall place your friend in
charge of one of the hump-durgins."

"What is that, sir?" asked Alaric.

"What's what?"

"A hump-durgin."

"Oh! Don't you know? Well, you'll find out to-morrow."

[TO BE CONTINUED.]




BLIND-MAN'S-BUFF AT SEA.

PROBLEMS OF NAVIGATING IN THICK WEATHER.

BY W. J. HENDERSON.


"What do you think about the weather?"

That was the question which Captain Jason Argo asked his first officer
as they stood on the bridge together. The great black hull of the
steamer _Golden Fleece_, driven by the powerful quadruple-expansion
engines, was cleaving its way westward at a flying gait of nineteen
knots an hour. There was a thundering hill of foam under her bows, and a
massive cloud of oily brown smoke went rushing sternward from her two
big funnels. She had encountered only one bit of fresh weather since
leaving Queenstown, for it was hardly time yet for heavy gales. But now
the sky had become overcast with a thin haze of clouds, which obscured
the sun completely.

"I'm afraid," answered the first officer, "that we're in for a settled
spell of cloudy weather and fog."

"And I'm morally certain that you're right," said the Captain, with a
serious face, as he thought of what was before him.

When the celestial bodies--the sun, moon, and stars--cannot be seen,
then begins grave trouble for the navigator. As long as these are
visible, by observing their altitudes above the horizon with the
sextant--an instrument designed for that purpose--and by some simple
astronomical calculations, he can ascertain the latitude and longitude
of his ship, and thus know just where he is and which way to steer in
order to reach his port. But the moment he loses the heavenly bodies he
must feel his way into port by "dead reckoning," which consists of
measuring the actual distance sailed by means of the log-line, and of
ascertaining the direction by the compass. It is a method subject to
errors of many kinds, caused by incorrect registering of the log, by
deviation of the compass, and by currents. It is like trying to walk
through a room in the dark by counting the number of your steps. So it
was not remarkable that Captain Jason Argo looked grave.

"At noon to-day we made our position 47° west longitude and 46° 30'
north latitude," said the Captain, reflectively.

"Yes, sir," answered the first officer.

"As we are steering, that should have made us seventy-five miles from
the easterly edge of the Newfoundland Banks."

"To a dot, sir."

"And it is now three o'clock. What does the patent log show?"

"It is registering nineteen and three-quarter knots an hour."

The patent log is an instrument for recording the distance sailed by the
ship. It consists of a dial on the outside of a case, inside of which
are wheels to turn the hands. Attached to the machinery is a long line,
at the end of which is a rotator shaped somewhat like a ship's
propeller. This rotator drags through the sea, and makes a certain
number of revolutions every mile, twisting the line, and thus turning
the hands on the dial, where the number of knots is marked.

"It's a new log, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir; I received it at Queenstown."

"Good. What is its percentage of error?"

"Two per cent."

Patent logs usually overrate the distance run, and the percentage of
error has to be ascertained.

"It's running fully two per cent. now, I fancy," said the Captain,
stepping to the speaking-tube that ran to the engine-room and calling
for the chief engineer.

"Hello, Mr. Bargot! How many revolutions are you making a minute?"

A jumble of figures returned through the tube.

"And that's nineteen knots, isn't it?" said the Captain. "Good."

The speed of vessels can be tolerably well calculated from the number of
revolutions of the screw.

"Now," said the Captain, turning to the third officer, who was also on
the bridge, "what was the last record of the chip log?"

"Twenty knots, sir."

"Common log is not much good at high speeds," commented the Captain.

The common log consists of a triangular wooden float, a line marked with
knots at equal distances apart, and a reel. The float is thrown
overboard, and the line allowed to run off the reel for a certain number
of seconds. The proportions of the distances between knots are such that
the number of them run off in the given time is the number of miles an
hour which the vessel is making.

"We shall be safe in saying that we are doing an even nineteen knots,"
said the Captain. "We ought to strike the easterly edge of the
Newfoundland Banks a little before four o'clock, in longitude 48° 30'
west and latitude 45° 40' north, and we ought to get a sounding there of
fifty-four to fifty-eight fathoms. Mr. Parker, you will get the
sounding-machine ready to take a cast at five minutes of four o'clock."

"Ay, ay, sir," answered the third officer.

The sounding-machine consists of a heavy lead on the end of a very long
piano-wire wound round a cylinder. With this a sounding can be taken
while a vessel is going ahead at the rate of twelve or fifteen knots,
while with an old-fashioned deep-sea lead line it is necessary to stop.
An indicator on the side of the sounding-machine shows how many fathoms
of wire are out, and there is a crank for winding it in.

At five minutes of four the third officer took the sounding, and
reported a depth of fifty-five fathoms.

"Good," said the Captain, who was now in his room consulting the chart.
"So far we know exactly where we are. We shall keep our present course.
You will take another sounding at seven o'clock, when we should be
fifty-seven miles west sou'west of this, and you should get thirty-three
fathoms. How's the weather?"

"Looks like fog before morning, sir."

"Hum!" muttered Captain Jason Argo, through his clinched teeth, "I shall
hold our present course at least till we clear the Banks. It's 150 miles
across, as we are going, and I wish soundings taken every two hours till
we are across, which will be in eight hours. You will pass the word to
call me when the last sounding is to be taken."

The third officer returned to the deck. At seven o'clock he made the
sounding, as directed, and got a depth of thirty-two fathoms, which
tallied closely enough with the Captain's calculations to show that they
were correct. Steadily the _Golden Fleece_ ploughed her way westward
across the comparatively shallow waters of the Grand Banks, and at
midnight, the Captain having been called, the last cast of the lead
showed eighty fathoms.

"Good," said the Captain, turning his face against the damp rush of the
heavy mist; "we shall run into 1500 fathoms now, and into the northerly
limit of the Gulf Stream. On the whole, I think we'd better give our
course an eighth more southing, and hold it at that till noon. Keep a
bright lookout ahead, and keep your weather eye on the sky. If it breaks
away, look sharp, and get the deviation from the first star that shows.
I think we're in for a lot of thick weather."

The Captain went below and turned in, "all standing." All through the
dreary night his sleep was broken by the hoarse blasts of the fog-siren
and the half-hourly cries of the lookouts. He wondered whether the
current of the Gulf Stream was setting true, or had perhaps been
deflected by some now dead wind of which he could not possibly know
anything. He had a sailor's dread of an unknown current. If he had been
on soundings the trusty lead would have told him where he was, but no
machine could plumb the depths now under the _Golden Fleece_'s keel. At
six o'clock the Captain went on the bridge again. The fog had
disappeared, but the sky was still overcast.

"Hum!" he muttered; "it's enough to make a man give up the sea and go to
farming."

Toward half past nine there were signs that the clouds were about to
break, and the officers on the bridge made ready to "shoot the sun," as
taking an observation is called, at the first opportunity. Presently
there was a rift of blue sky, and in a few minutes the gorgeous sun
broke through. The officers made their observation, but as they were
still uncertain of their latitude, they could do nothing with it. At
noon they were able to ascertain the latitude, and then they figured out
the ship's position.

"How does our dead reckoning compare with our position by observation?"
asked Captain Jason Argo.

"By dead reckoning we have made a run of 456 miles in the twenty-four
hours," answered the first officer, "and our noon position was latitude
43° 34' north, longitude 54° west. By observation our position is
latitude 43° 30' north, longitude 53° 54' west."

"Excellent," exclaimed the Captain; "that's close work, and shows that
my current allowance was about as near right as possible. Now I wish to
hit the easterly edge of George's Bank, which is in longitude 66° west,
in latitude 41° 20' north. When we make that point, I'll show you my
reason for doing that."

The Captain now gave out the course as south 76° west, true, and the
distance to the point indicated as 540 miles. The course had to be
corrected for variation and deviation of the compass before it could be
given to the man at the wheel, and the greatest care was exercised in
making the calculations.

"If we keep going at nineteen knots," said the Captain, "we'll strike
that eastern edge in twenty-eight hours and three-quarters, or at a
quarter of five to-morrow afternoon. Whether the weather is clear or
thick, at that hour I want a sounding. We ought to get about fifty-five
fathoms."

[Illustration: IT BEGAN TO BLOW BRISKLY FROM THE NORTHEAST.]

The _Golden Fleece_ continued her westerly flight, but the weather did
not remain clear. Before noon the following day it had clouded over, and
had begun to blow briskly from the northeast.

"Now," said the Captain to himself, "I shall have that much discussed
southerly and westerly current to look out for."

But among the passengers the Captain appeared to be so easy in his mind
that they thought he had very little to think about. Yet he ordered the
sounding to be made at 4.30, and had the ship slowed down to half speed.
No bottom was got at 300 fathoms; but fifteen minutes later the lead
struck at fifty-eight fathoms. The course was now altered two degrees
more to the westward.

"I steer now," said the Captain, "for longitude 68° west, latitude 41°
north. That is the westerly edge of the southern extremity of this bank,
and there we should get thirty fathoms. The distance is 240 miles, and
as we are now doing about twenty knots an hour, we ought to be there in
twelve hours, or at 4.45 in the morning."

Not a star peeped out in the course of the night, and the Captain,
running wholly by dead reckoning, was an anxious man. Toward morning he
had the lead hove every half-hour, and his wisdom was shown by the
result of the soundings, which proved that the _Golden Fleece_ had
over-run her reckoning by eight miles--quite enough to cause disaster if
near land, or dangerous shoals. The latter was the case, for the
Nautucket Shoals were not far away. The weather continued to be thick
and "dirty," and Captain Jason Argo was constantly on the alert. There
were dangerous shallows ahead of him and uncertain currents under him,
and he knew that it was his duty to get the _Golden Fleece_ to port as
quickly as possible. But no amount of speed would atone for running the
vessel on the Long Island or New Jersey shore, now hourly drawing nearer
behind the impenetrable mist. Speed was reduced to fifteen knots, and
the lead was hove every hour.

"I am steering now," said the Captain, "to cross the meridian of 70°
west in latitude 40° 40' north. But to do that I must pass about six
miles south of the South Shoal Light-ship, which is in latitude 40° 46'
north, and longitude 69° 56' west. I don't need to see that vessel or
hear her fog signal, because the soundings south of her will give me my
latitude to a minute, and my longitude almost as well."

"Yes, sir," said the first officer, who had heard something like this
before.

"All the same," said the Captain, "I'm not in love with this business of
running in with the land in thick weather, and when we are half a dozen
miles this side of that light-ship I want the lead down every fifteen
minutes."

"Ay, ay, sir."

The navigation of the ship now became a business requiring the utmost
caution. Owing to the invisibility of the heavenly bodies it was
impossible to ascertain the precise amount of error in the compass. The
treacherous Nantucket Shoals, with their changeful currents, were close
at hand. The Captain had his chart spread before him, and on it he was
tracing the course of the ship as shown by the soundings. She would run
twelve miles, and the chart would show that she ought then to be in
thirty-four fathoms. The sounding-machine would give the depth. If it
was less than thirty-four fathoms, she was north of her apparent course;
if more, she was south. She was literally feeling her way. It was nearly
6 P.M., and a fine misty rain narrowed the horizon down to a small
circle of two miles in diameter. The _Golden Fleece_ was slowed down to
eight knots, and soundings were taken every fifteen minutes. Suddenly
the dull blast of a steam-whistle was heard far off the starboard bow.
The first officer hastily drew out his watch and counted the seconds.
Nearly half a minute passed, and then came another blast, three times as
long as the first.

"The light-ship," said the first officer.

"Yes," said the Captain, who had mounted the bridge at the first sound.
"We are fully two miles further north than I thought; too much current
allowance, I guess. However, I shall now steer to pass eight miles due
south of Shinnecock Light, at a point 40° 43' north and 72° 30' west.
The course is west, true, and the distance 113 miles; but we must make
some allowance for current--not much, though, with this wind. It's
ebb-tide, and it will hardly be likely now to set toward the beach, as
it often does."

The Captain made some more calculations, and then gave out the compass
course. The speed of the ship was increased to twelve knots, and the
deep-sea sounding-machine was used once an hour all night. At four
o'clock in the morning the rain had ceased, and another dense fog had
set in. The soundings indicated that a point about eight or nine miles
due south of Shinnecock Light had been reached. The Captain now gave out
the course as west, and the distance as sixty-two miles; but he was very
uncertain as to the deviation of the compass, so he ordered speed
reduced to ten knots, while the lead was to be cast every half-hour. A
fresh northeasterly wind sprang up, raising a choppy sea, and
transforming the fog into a driving mist. The soundings ran very
irregularly, the lead showing 18, 17-1/2, 20, 22, and 19 fathoms without
any apparent guidance. The Captain walked the bridge anxiously. The
soundings began to run 18, 17-1/2, 17, 17, 16-1/2, 16, 15, 14, 13-1/2,
13, 14, and 13 fathoms.

"Too far to the south, as sure as I live!" muttered the Captain. "How
did we do it? But we're sure to make one of the holes." And then he
added aloud, "Slow down to six knots."

Suddenly the officer at the sounding-machine away aft sung out,
"Twenty-one fathoms, sir!"

[Illustration: "HARD A PORT! HARD OVER!"]

"Right slap into the twenty-one-fathom hole, and heading straight for
Monmouth Beach, as I live!" growled Captain Jason Argo, and he sharply
ordered the helmsman, "Hard a port! Hard over!"

The _Golden Fleece_ swung her black prow northward through the fog, and
when it pointed due north by compass the Captain told the helmsman to
keep it so.

"We'll be up with the Sandy Hook Light-ship soon," he said; "we fell
about seven miles to the south of it. Keep the lead going. That's my
motto--log, lead, and lookout in thick weather. If we hadn't kept up our
soundings we'd have gone on the Jersey shore. Get the port anchor
ready."

A little over an hour later the lookout forward reported the Sandy Hook
Light-ship close to the starboard bow.

[Illustration: HE ORDERED THE VESSEL STOPPED AND LET GO THE ANCHOR.]

"Hard a starboard!" said the Captain; and as the ship swung round and
the light-ship faded away into the mist again, he ordered the vessel to
be stopped and let go the anchor. The fog-whistle ceased to blow, and
the bell took its place as a warning. The Captain went down off the
bridge, and made his appearance at the luncheon-table.

"Captain Argo," said an impatient old lady, "I'd like to know why we are
anchored here in a fog out in the middle of the ocean. I've paid to be
taken to New York, and I don't wish to stop here."

"My dear madam," replied the Captain, "up on the coast of Maine the
steamboat captains run in fogs from point to point among the islands by
timing their craft and then listening for the echo of the whistle from
the rocks. And there was once a schooner captain who went from Cape Ann
to Quarantine in New York Bay in a fog without seeing a single thing,
steering from one whistling-buoy or fog-horn to another. Now I'm only a
plain sea navigator, and having brought my ship safely from the other
side of the Grand Banks to this side of Sandy Hook Light-ship with only
one observation, feeling my way the rest of the time with the lead, I'm
satisfied now to come to anchor, wait till the fog lifts, and then let a
pilot see whether he can get me up the Lower Bay in clear weather
without running me aground."




THE SLAMBANGAREE.

(_In Two Parts._)

BY R. K. MUNKITTRICK.

Part II.


As soon as Reginald had recovered sufficiently from his astonishment to
be able to speak, he exclaimed, "But you didn't have any bait!"

"The button on the end of the top-cord was the bait," said the
Slambangaree, as it watched the fish swimming about in the air.

"What kind of a fish is that?" asked Reginald.

"That," replied the Slambangaree, "is a Capecodger. Did you ever hear a
fish sing a song in notes of candy?"

"I never did," replied Reginald.

Then the Slambangaree turned to the Capecodger, and said, in a tone of
authority,

"Sing, Sir Fish!"

The fish opened its mouth very wide and sang:

  "As I'm a fish of good sound sense,
    Permit me, sir, to say
  It is a strange experience
    To swim around this way.
  I much prefer the coral caves
    Beneath the bounding sea,
  And to disport upon its waves,
    And wriggle in my glee.
  That bureau there is not a rock,
    This air is not the brine.
  Oh, grind me up in yonder clock
    For fishballs sweet and fine,
  But do not keep me swimming here
    All day, and thirsty, too,
  Or I shall have to shed a tear,
    And that would never do!"

What surprised Reginald was that while the Capecodger's words could be
distinctly understood, each note was a pellet of candy, that fell from
its mouth upon the carpet. When the Capecodger was through, it
descended, and, much to Reginald's disgust, devoured all the candy that
had fallen upon the floor.

"That candy that it has just swallowed," remarked the Slambangaree, "is
merely reserve ammunition for its next song." Then turning to the
Capecodger, the Slambangaree continued: "Of course you must not be kept
swimming in the air, and I know it would never do to have you shed a
tear. But I will not put you in the works of the clock, and grind you up
in its machinery, as you suggest, for fishballs, after your kindness in
singing us a nice little song, instead of excusing yourself on the
threadbare ground of having a sore throat. But you must give little
Reginald a ride before you return to the pitcher."

The Capecodger was so anxious to be back in its native element, that it
lost no time in swimming under Reginald. When they were up in the air
the Capecodger wagged its tail in great glee, and swam all around the
room, just grazing the pictures and the clock, but doing no damage.

"It is just like being in a boat," said Reginald, as the Capecodger went
down under a chair with him without touching the rungs; "it has a
regular sea motion, and I'm not frightened a bit. But I wish I could
have the Capecodger all the time; it would be nicer to go to school on
than a bicycle, and then I could go way up in the air, like a kite. And
every once in a while I could get it to sing, and have some candy."

But just then Reginald was back in his bed, and the Capecodger was back
in the pitcher.

Then the Slambangaree took one of the boxwood tops from Reginald's
pocket, and tossed it in the air a few times, and then threw it against
the ceiling. Instead of descending, it remained on the ceiling, where it
spun at a great rate, and, instead of humming, repeated the
multiplication table so fast that it would finish twelve times in about
four seconds. Then it got spinning so fast that it set all the room and
the furniture whirling at the same rate. As the Slambangaree whirled
with the rest, its grin increased until its head seemed to be all grin.
Finally the Slambangaree grew smaller and smaller, until it was so small
that it vanished into the top, which still whirled away at an awful
rate. And when Reginald thought he was rid of his goblin visitor, the
top suddenly began to increase in size until it was as large as a
barrel, when it suddenly burst, and out popped the Slambangaree, leading
a curious monster, the like of which Reginald had never seen or dreamed
of. Its mouth opened like a door, and its eyes slid up and down like
windows. And it had two heads, one at each end. And it could move with
equal grace and swiftness in either direction. It ran all over the room,
and what seemed strangest of all was that the room grew larger to
accommodate the antics of the monster. Occasionally it would raise one
eye like a window-sash, and curious birds would fly forth, and, after
fluttering around, fly to the other end of the monster, who would throw
open an eye to admit them. As the Slambangaree deposited the boxwood top
in Reginald's pocket, it pointed to the monster, and said,

"That thing is a Cariftywhifty."

"What can a Cariftywhifty do?" asked Reginald.

"What can a Cariftywhifty do?" repeated the Slambangaree. "Why, a
Cariftywhifty can eat you, and that is what this Cariftywhifty is about
to do."

Then the Cariftywhifty chased Reginald into a corner, and took him into
his mouth as if he were a raw oyster, and soon had him beneath his
teeth, which were like the keys of a piano, and played tunes while it
was eating. When Reginald reached the inside of the Cariftywhifty's
teeth he found that he had not been hurt; and when he realized that he
was being swallowed he was greatly surprised to find that the monster's
throat consisted of a stairway, down which he walked into its stomach,
which was a beautiful garden. Boxwood tops were spinning on the limbs of
trees, and the place was lighted even at night by the Cariftywhifty's
eyes. The only time the place was dark was when the unique monster
closed its eyes. When the garden was suddenly darkened for a moment, and
then illuminated, it indicated that the owner had just winked. Reginald
knew that all this garden was in his own room, of course, but he didn't
know how he was going to gain his freedom. But he wandered down the main
path, seeing many curious sights, until he was chased by a lot of
bull-frogs of great size, that jumped great distances and turned
somersaults with ease. As these bull-frogs were made of _papier-maché_,
they had no sense of feeling, because when Reginald stepped upon one of
them it only made it laugh. They said they would put him in a box and
feed him on flies if they could only catch him. This caused poor
Reginald to redouble his efforts, and he was almost exhausted when he
readied the throat stairway at the other end of the Cariftywhifty. Up
these steps he bounded in safety, and was soon under the teeth of the
monster, that chewed him and emitted a tune with its musical teeth at
the same time.

In a moment Reginald was in his bed again, looking at the Slambangaree,
that was now so small that the poor worried boy knew the plum-pudding
must be almost digested. Finally the Slambangaree entered the mouth of
the Cariftywhifty, and the latter, bounding across the room for a flying
start, dashed through the window, and disappeared without breaking the
glass or making the slightest noise.

It must have been at that time that Reginald knocked upon my door. When
he was admitted he sat on the side of my bed, and told me all about the
Slambangaree, the Capecodger, and the Cariftywhifty, at the same time
saying that if he ever ate plum-pudding again he only hoped that he
would have his nightmare while asleep, and not when lying wide awake. I
have written his story down just as he told it to me, in the hope that
it may be a warning to other boys to always eat just plum-pudding
enough, and never too much, lest they meet with a midnight adventure
similar to that of little Reginald's.




[Illustration]

THE RIVER.


  Down through the fields, by the poplars and birches,
  Into the towns past the houses and churches,
  On through the night while the curfew is tolling
  The river goes bubbling and foaming and rolling
  Under the bridges and over the stones,
  Winding through swampland that nobody owns,
  Spraying, and splashing, and murmuring free--
  Onward it speeds from the hills to the sea!




[Illustration: Lynch. Hoffman. Cooley. Cheek. Bell. Jenks.

Whitman. Edwards. Dawson, (Capt.). Smith.

Steele. Morrel.

OAKLAND HIGH-SCHOOL ATHLETIC TEAM.

Interscholastic Champions of the Pacific Coast.]

[Illustration: Striebinger. Raby. Hord. Deming. McBride. Perkins.

Shechan. Alexander (Capt.). Cross.

Burke. Sullivan. Ruttle.

UNIVERSITY SCHOOL (CLEVELAND, OHIO) TRACK-ATHLETIC TEAM.]




[Illustration: INTERSCHOLASTIC SPORT]


The superior value of team-work over individual brilliancy was
effectively demonstrated at the New York State Interscholastic games at
Tonawanda, New York, June 6. The honors of the occasion were carried off
by the Buffalo High-School team with 38 points, Syracuse H.-S. coming
second with 36, and Ithaca H.-S third with 27.

Ithaca boasted the most brilliant performer of the day--A. B.
Miller--who took four firsts, thereby earning twenty out of the
twenty-seven points to Ithaca's credit. Miller is a sprinter, and a
sprinter of the first class. He took the 100 in 10-3/5 sec., the 220 in
25-4/5 sec., the quarter in 52-2/5 sec., and the half in 2 min. 13
sec.--and all this in one afternoon against lively competition. The
other seven points for Ithaca were earned by F. E. Gibbons, who threw
the hammer 97 ft. 7 in., winning first place, and took third in the shot
with a put of 36 ft. 7 in., and third in the broad jump with 18 ft.
9-1/2 in.

Miller and Gibbons were the stars, and no other member of the Ithaca
team scored a single point. But these two giants, single-handed, could
not overcome the work of the little seconds and thirds that Buffalo and
Syracuse kept piling up against them. Buffalo took only three firsts;
Syracuse got four; but the Buffalo team grabbed almost every second and
third there was in sight, and thus, by general efficiency, easily
overcame the brilliant individual work of Ithaca's two star athletes.
Brilliant performers are much to be desired if they can be backed up by
other athletes of average capability; but they are almost useless, so
far as a victory is concerned, when all the work falls upon them, for
their achievements then practically count for nothing.

In many respects the performances made at the New York State meeting
were better than those recorded at the N. Y. Interscholastics on the
Berkeley Oval a few weeks ago, notably the high jump and the broad
jump--although these figures do not, of course, surpass the New York
city records. It is very probable, too, that Miller would have made
better time in his sprints if he could have had the advantage of a
better track and more favorable conditions. The Driving Park track at
Tonawanda on the day of these games was very heavy, and in none of the
running events were the records broken. In addition a strong wind blew
across the path and interfered with the speed of the sprinters. Besides
the unfavorable weather conditions, the meet was very badly managed;
there were no programmes, and no apparatus for the field events; the
jumping posts, etc, had to be obtained at the last moment, and this
occasioned considerable delay.

[Illustration: Stone. Eells. Rixon. Brown. McCormick. Parker. Cook.

Stetson. Bardeen. Cheney (Capt.). Goodwin. Harper. Ellsworth.

Twichall. Tiffany. Lyman. Spencer. Pendleton. Fox.

THE HOTCHKISS SCHOOL TRACK-ATHLETIC TEAM.]

When there were but three events left to be decided, Ithaca was ahead
with her final score, and Buffalo and Syracuse were tied for second
place with 26 points. The broad jump was then called, and Prinstein of
Syracuse took first place, making the score 31 for his team, while Purdy
of Buffalo took second, and brought the Buffalo score one ahead of
Ithaca. The pole vault followed, and Jackson settled matters for Buffalo
H.-S. by adding five points to the score. Purdy won the high jump at 5
ft. 8 in., and afterwards, in trying for a record, cleared 5 ft. 10 in.
This comes very close to Baltazzi's Interscholastic record.

New York State I.S.A.A. Games, Tonawanda, New York, June 5, 1896.

     Event.                       Winner.               Performance.
  100-yard dash              Miller, Ithaca H.-S.           10-3/5 sec.
  220-yard dash              Miller, Ithaca H.-S.           25-4/5  "
  Quarter-mile run           Miller, Ithaca H.-S.           52-2/5  "
  Half-mile run              Miller, Ithaca H.-S.     2 m.  13      "
  One-mile run               Brown, Roch. H.-S.       4 "   56-3/5  "
  120-yard hurdles           Taylor, Syr. H.-S.             19      "
  220-yard hurdles           Taylor, Syr. H.-S.             31-4/5  "
  One-mile walk              ----------
  One-mile bicycle           Miller, Buff. H.-S.      3 "   15-1/5  "
  Running high jump          Purdy, Buff. H.-S.       5 ft.  8     in.
  Running broad jump         Prinstein, Syr. H.-S.   20  "   9-1/2  "
  Pole vault                 Jackson, Buff. H.-S.     9  "  10      "
  Throwing 16-lb. hammer     Gibbons, Ithaca H.-S.   97  "   7      "
  Throwing 12-lb. hammer     ----------
  Putting 16-lb. shot        Hall, Syr. H.-S.        37  "   9      "
  Putting 12-lb. shot        ----------

Wisconsin I.S.A.A. Games, Madison, Wisconsin, May 30, 1896.

  Event.                     Winner.                    Performance.
  100-yard dash              McGowan, Eau Claire.           11     sec.
  220-yard dash              McGowan, Eau Claire.           23-1/4  "
  Quarter-mile run           Athearn, Oshkosh.              57-1/2  "
  Half-mile run              Disch, Mil. S.S.         2 m.  21      "
  One-mile run               Dodman, Mil. E.S.        5 "    3      "
  120-yard hurdles           Lyle, Madison.                 20      "
  220-yard hurdles           Lyle, Madison.                 29      "
  One-mile walk              Shepherd, Madison.       8 "   26      "
  One-mile bicycle           Comstock, Oshkosh.       3 "   30      "
  Running high jump          Gill, Whitewater.        5 ft.  4     in.
  Running broad jump         Schroeder, Mauston.     18  "  10      "
  Pole vault                 Ward, Oshkosh.           9  "   3-1/2  "
  Throwing 16-lb. hammer     ----------
  Throwing 12-lb. hammer     Smith, Evansville.     101  "  10      "
  Putting 16-lb. shot        ----------
  Putting 12-lb. shot        Patterson, Evansville.  42  "   5-1/2  "

Pittsburg I.S.A.A. Games, Pittsburg, Pennsylvania, June 5, 1896.

  Event.                     Winner.            Performance.
  100-yard dash              Jarvis, E.L.A.            11     sec.
  220-yard dash              Jarvis, E.L.A.            24-3/5  "
  Quarter-mile run           Jarvis, E.L.A.            53-1/5  "
  Half-mile run              Bell, S.S.A.        2 m.  11-2/5  "
  One-mile run               Bell, S.S.A.        5 "   15      "
  120-yard hurdles           ----------
  220-yard hurdles           Jarvis, E.L.A.            34      "
  One-mile walk              ----------
  One-mile bicycle           Heinz, S.S.A.       3 "   55      "
  Running high jump          Kallock, P.H.S.     5 ft.  3     in.
  Running broad jump         Baird, E.L.A.      19  "   4      "
  Pole vault                 Baird, E.L.A.       8  "  10      "
  Throwing 16-lb. hammer     Bell, S.S.A.       74  "   4      "
  Throwing 12-lb. hammer     ----------
  Putting 16-lb. shot        Bell, S.S.A.       33  "   2      "
  Putting 12-lb. shot        ----------

     ABBREVIATIONS.--Roch. H.-S., Rochester (New York) High-School; Syr.
     H.S., Syracuse (New York) High-School; Buff. H.-S., Buffalo (New
     York) High-School; Mil. S.S., Milwaukee South Side High-School;
     Mil. E.S., Milwaukee East Side High-School; E.L.A., East Liberty
     Academy, Pittsburg, Pennsylvania; S.S.A., Shady Side Academy,
     Pittsburg, Pennsylvania; P.H.S., Pittsburg High-School.

The Wisconsin School held their athletic meet at Madison, Wisconsin, on
May 30, and although the performances as a whole were below the average
of the records attained on the Atlantic and Pacific coasts, they will
stand comparison with almost any school figures in the middle West.
Nineteen schools sent teams to the meeting, and the points were
distributed as follows: Milwaukee East Side, 28; Milwaukee South Side,
19; Madison, 17; Eau Claire, 14; Oshkosh, 10; Janesville, 4; Fond du
Lac, 1; Whitewater, 7; Evansville, 14; Ripon, 5; Mauston, 7; Edgerton,
3; Wayland Academy, 4; Darlington, Dodgeville, Milwaukee West Side, Lake
Mills, and Beloit failed to score any points. In addition to the events
shown in the accompanying table, there was a relay race, which was won
by the Milwaukee East Side High-School. For some unexplained reason no
points were allowed to the winner of the one-mile bicycle-race, which
was apparently thrown in as a sort of extra event.

The Pittsburg Interscholastic Association held its second annual field
meeting on June 5, the victory going to East Liberty Academy with 23
points out of 64. Pittsburg H.-S. was a close second with 20 points, and
Shady Side Academy ran third with 17 points. The other schools followed
far in the rear, Park Institute getting only 3, and Allegheny High 1
point. Jarvis of East Liberty Academy stood head and shoulders above any
other contestant in the quality of his performances, and won four
firsts. He took the 100, the 220, and the quarter, and also finished
first in the low hurdles. He could not have been very hard pressed,
however, for the time was very slow.

In addition to the one-mile bicycle-race, which was a loaf for
three-quarters, there were three other bicycle events. These are not
shown on the accompanying table, because it has seemed more advisable,
for the purpose of comparison of performances, to record there only the
standard events. The quarter-mile bicycle-race was taken by McCready of
Pittsburg H.-S. in 35 sec.; he had no easy time of it, however, for
Heinz, S.S.A., who took the mile event, pressed him so closely that
there were but a few inches between the two as they reached the tape.
The two-mile bicycle-race was another uninteresting loaf, the
contestants crawling around the track for five laps. A pace-maker was
then put in and a spurt followed. Orr, P.H.S., won in 8 min. 3/5 sec.,
with McCready, his schoolmate, second. When it came to the half-mile
race, the officials decided to put in a tandem pace-maker in order to
prevent a third loaf, and a good race resulted. Orr again took first,
time, 1 min. 9-2/5 sec., with McCready second.

The list of events at the games this year was changed considerably from
last spring's schedule, but the house-cleaning did not go quite far
enough, for the hop-step-and-jump still remains on the card. Let us hope
it will be lost in the shuffle next year. Twelve of this season's events
were the same as those of a year ago, and eight of the 1895 records were
broken. It is probable that if Jarvis had been pushed he could have
lowered the figures in the 100 and the 220; as it was, he established a
record in the 440--53-1/5 sec.--which is better than the Pittsburg
collegiate performance done by Miller and Edwards at the recent local
meeting--54-3/5. Jarvis expects to enter Princeton next year, and will
be a valuable acquisition to the New Jersey college's track team, which
has never yet been a strong one. Bell, the long-distance runner and
weight man, who won four firsts at these games, and Heinz, the
bicycle-rider, both go to Yale.

The Oakland High-School athletes have every reason to feel proud of the
record they have made on track and field this year. The track team won
both the autumn and the spring field days of the Academic Athletic
League, and took eight points in the recent Pacific Coast Championships.
They have showed themselves to be so strong an aggregation that they can
only secure meetings with university teams. A set of dual games had been
arranged between the O.H.-S. and the Berkeley High-School, but this fell
through after Berkeley had been defeated by the Oakland athletes at the
recent A.A.L. field meeting. Challenges have been sent to many
high-schools and athletic clubs, but none of these have felt that they
were strong enough to stand any chance for success against the
Oaklanders, and all have adopted discretion as the better part of their
valor.

This year's High-School team, however, is much stronger than any this
school has ever turned out before, and it will probably be some time
before any such a collection of athletes will be gathered again under
the O.H.-S. colors. Three of the best men, Cheek, Jenks, and Dawson, go
to college in the fall, and they will add materially to the strength of
the University of California team. These three scored 24 out of the 42
points which O.H.-S. secured at the last field day. Cheek is by far the
most versatile of the trio, and will undoubtedly be heard from in the
near future. At present he holds four of his school's records--the
running broad jump, 22 ft.; the running high jump, 5 ft. 8 in.; the
16-lb. shot, 41 ft. 8-1/2 in.; and the pole vault, 10 ft. 5-1/2 in. In
addition to these events, he is a strong performer over the hurdles, and
throws the hammer beyond the hundred-foot mark.

Jenks is Oakland's sprinter, and holds the school record in both the
dashes. His figures are 10-4/5 sec. for the 100, and 24-3/5 sec. in the
220. He is a good quarter-miler besides, his best performance in that
line being the winning of the handicap a year ago last April from the
20-yard mark in 52-3/5 sec., coming in ahead of some of the best
quarter-milers on the Pacific coast. Dawson's specialty is hurdling. He
holds the school record of 29 sec. for the low hurdles, and his best
time for the high is 17-4/5 sec. He would doubtless have improved these
figures this spring if he had not had the responsibility of captaining
the team. It is much to be regretted that such scholastic athletic
talent as this could not be present at the National games last Saturday;
if they had, the results in many of the events would doubtless have been
different; for I feel confident that with better tracks and a more eager
competition they would be able to improve on their home figures.

In baseball the Oaklanders have as good a record as in track athletics.
Their nine this year won every game played, and the contests were not
only with academic teams, but also with some of the strongest nines in
that section. Two years ago the O.H.-S. had the reputation of possessing
the best team of amateur baseball-players on the Pacific coast. So great
is the interest in athletics there that the Grammar and Primary schools
of Oakland got up a field day on May 23. There was a great deal of
enthusiasm displayed by the colts, and their best performances were in
the high jump, 5 ft. 3 in.; and the quarter-mile run, 59 sec. The
season, however, is now pretty well closed, and not until next fall will
there be any great activity in any kind of sport among the schools of
California.

The activity in sport of the Californiana has acted as an incentive to
many schools in the middle West. I know this to be true from
correspondence I have had with many captains of teams in that section of
the country. Foremost among those who have been drawn into emulation of
the Oaklanders are the athletes of the University School of Cleveland,
Ohio. Comparatively little had been done in athletics there until about
a year ago, but since that time a great improvement has been noticeable,
and at the University School's field day a week or so ago some very good
figures were made. Alexander threw the hammer 123 ft. 6 in.; Hord
vaulted 9 ft. 9-1/2 in.; McBride jumped 5 ft. 5-1/2 in.; and Alexander
put the shot 36 ft. 6 in. It will not be long before the records in the
middle West will equal those of any of the scholastic associations of
the country.

Iowa H.-S.A.A. Games, Cedar Rapids, May 22, 1896.

     Event.                      Winner.               Performance.
  100-yard dash             Jackson, Cedar Rapids.           10-3/5 sec.
  220-yard dash             Jackson, Cedar Rapids.           23      "
  Quarter-mile run          Carmichael, Clinton.             51-1/5  "
  Half-mile run             Brown, Sioux City.         2 m.   6      "
  One-mile run              Brown, Sioux City.         5 "    8-3/5  "
  120-yard hurdles          Horton, Muscatine.         No time taken.
  220-yard hurdles          Conger, Clinton.                 29-1/5  "
  One-mile walk             Davis, Clinton.            8 "    6-3/5  "
  Running high jump         Flournoy, Clinton.         5 ft.  8     in.
  Running broad jump        Jackson, Cedar Rapids.    20  "     1/4  "
  Pole vault                Walsh, Clinton.            9  "   2      "
  Throwing 16-lb. hammer    Leo, Cedar Rapids.        89  "   5      "
  Putting 16-lb. shot       Hartung, Des Moines.      32  "  11-3/4  "
  Two-mile bicycle          Cherry, Cedar Rapids.      5 m.  59     sec.
  Half-mile bicycle         Cherry, Cedar Rapids.      1 "   14-2/5  "

When the Iowa State H.-S.A.A. held its first field meeting last year
this Department criticised the schedule of events, which contained a
number of acrobatic feats not usually recognized as track or field
events. It is with great pleasure, therefore, that I notice a change
this year. The Iowans are certainly a progressive set of athletes, as
has certainly been proved by their sending a team to the National games
of last Saturday.

Clinton High-School is the leading institution in athletics there at
present. Clinton won the championship among the Iowa schools, and also,
in a dual meet, defeated Rockford H.-S., whose team won the Illinois
championship.

The Clinton High-School team also challenged the Milwaukee team, but
their invitation for a dual contest was not accepted. The Iowa
Association is the only one, I believe, of the Western interscholastic
leagues that has joined the National I.S.A.A., and for this they deserve
great credit. Their action and enterprise will no doubt be of the
greatest benefit to sport in that region, and will serve to place the
Iowa schools in the front rank of scholastic athletics.

  THE GRADUATE.

       *       *       *       *       *

AN OUNCE OF PREVENTION

is cheaper than any quantity of cure. Don't give children narcotics or
sedatives. They are unnecessary when the infant is properly nourished,
as it will be if brought up on the Gail Borden Eagle Brand Condensed
Milk.--[_Adv._]

       *       *       *       *       *

AS TO FRUIT SHORT-CAKES.

Now is the season of the fruit short-cake, and from this, on the
household journal and the domestic departments of the dailies that do
not contain several receipts for mailing the different varieties of this
delicious dessert will be deficient in their make-up. As a matter of
particular information it should be stated that whenever a cooking
receipt calls for a baking powder the "Royal" should be used. The
receipt will be found to work better and surer, and the biscuit, rolls,
cakes, short-cakes, dumplings, crusts, puddings, crullers, or whatever
made, will be produced sweeter, lighter, finer flavored, more dainty,
palatable, and wholesome. Besides, the "Royal" will go further or has
greater leavening power, and is therefore more economical than any other
powder. The greater consideration, however, is the added delicacy of
flavor, the uniform fineness of the article that are always insured.

Many receipts as published still call for cream of tartar and soda, the
old-fashioned way of raising. Modern cooking and expert cooks do not
sanction this old way. In all such receipts the Royal Baking Powder
should be substituted without fail.

The greatest adepts in the culinary art are particular to use the Royal
only, and the authors of the most popular cook-books and the teachers of
the successful cooking-schools, with whom the best results are
imperative, are careful to impress their readers and pupils with the
importance of its exclusive employment.

The Royal Baking Powder is the greatest help of modern times to perfect
cooking, and every receipt requiring a quick-raising ingredient should
embody it.--_The Caterer._




ADVERTISEMENTS.




Right KIND OF Tires

       *       *       *       *       *

FOR RACING

     No. 75 Hartford Single Tubes--the standard racing tires, the kind
     Bald rode in 1895.

FOR PLEASURE

     No. 80 Hartford Single-Tubes--the standard fast road tires,
     delightful, buoyant, comfortable.

[Illustration: Hartford Single Tube Tires]

FOR SECURITY

     No. 77 Hartford Single-Tubes--the standard tires for those who are
     willing to sacrifice a little speed for greater security from
     puncture. The ideal tire for tandems.

FOR ROUGH SERVICE

     No. 70 Hartford Single-Tubes--the standard tires for rocky, hilly
     country.

       *       *       *       *       *

THE HARTFORD RUBBER WORKS CO.

HARTFORD, CONN.

NEW YORK. CHICAGO.




Arnold

Constable & Co

       *       *       *       *       *

FASHIONABLE

FOULARDS.

Importations by latest steamers.

CANVAS GRENADINES,

MOHAIRS.

       *       *       *       *       *

Broadway & 19th st.

NEW YORK.




[Illustration: THOMPSON'S EYE WATER]




[Illustration: BICYCLING]

     This Department is conducted in the interest of Bicyclers, and the
     Editor will be pleased to answer any question on the subject. Our
     maps and tours contain many 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, 1896, by Harper & Brothers.]

Continuing the journey from Hartford to Pittsfield, leave Canaan by
turning to the right just before reaching the railroad, and follow the
railroad itself a little over five miles north to Sheffield. There is a
good deal of sandy riding to Sheffield, and at Sheffield the Berkshire
country begins, where you are sure to find good roads; the road is no
longer sandy, but is gravel, well laid, and kept in good condition. From
Sheffield, running along on the western bank of the Housatonic River
close by the Housatonic Railroad, the road is direct into Great
Barrington, it being only necessary for the rider to remember that he
must keep to the right just out of Sheffield Plain, and instead of
crossing the track keep between the track and the river. Still following
the railroad, run out of Great Barrington on the north, cross the
railroad, keeping to the left, and then to the right at Mansfield Pond,
and run direct to Williamsville through Van Deusenville by the road
already described in a recent number; but instead of entering
Williamsville, turn to the right just before the town is reached, cross
the Housatonic Railroad at Housatonic, and follow the branch road,
keeping near the track all the way to Glendale; thence going north, run
direct to Curtisville, through Stockbridge, leaving Stockbridge Bowl on
the right. After passing through Curtisville run direct by West Street
into Lenox. There are other roads, but this particular one is at present
in the best condition.

Leaving Lenox by Main Street, the road is direct to Pittsfield, it being
possible for the rider either to turn to the right at the fork, about
three or four miles out from Lenox into what is called the Middle Road,
or to keep straight on what is called the South Road. Either way brings
you into Pittsfield itself, and the rider will here reach the point
where, by reversing the map given in No. 866 of HARPER'S ROUND TABLE, he
may proceed to Hudson, on the Hudson River, and thence run down the
Hudson to New York. By following the descriptions already given, it will
be seen that the rider joined the route from Hudson to Pittsfield at
Great Barrington; but unless he is making a regular circuit and his time
is limited, he is strongly advised to run on up through Stockbridge and
Lenox to Pittsfield, and to reverse the journey in coming back to
Hudson, as, if he turns westward at Great Barrington and runs to Hudson
direct, he will miss one of the most delightful roads in Massachusetts.
Or he may turn eastward from Pittsfield, and proceed towards the middle
of Massachusetts by routes which we hope to give in the near future.

This country is so well adapted in every way, except the one of hills,
for bicycling that in reality almost any route is a good one, and any
wheelman who is out for pleasure, and is not limited absolutely as to
time, will do well to study the country as he goes along, to make
inquiries, and to pick out short or long runs for himself.

     NOTE.--Map of New York city asphalted streets in No. 809. Map of
     route from New York to Tarrytown in No. 810. New York to Stamford,
     Connecticut, in No. 811. New York to Staten Island in No. 812. New
     Jersey from Hoboken to Pine Brook in No. 813. Brooklyn in No. 814.
     Brooklyn to Babylon in No. 815. Brooklyn to Northport in No. 816.
     Tarrytown to Poughkeepsie in No. 817. Poughkeepsie to Hudson in No.
     818. Hudson to Albany in No. 819. Tottenville to Trenton in No.
     820. Trenton to Philadelphia in No. 821. Philadelphia in No. 822.
     Philadelphia-Wissahicken Route in No. 823. Philadelphia to West
     Chester in No. 824. Philadelphia to Atlantic City--First Stage in
     No. 825; Second Stage in No. 826. Philadelphia to Vineland--First
     Stage in No. 827; Second Stage in No. 828. Now York to
     Boston--Second Stage in No. 829; Third Stage in No. 830; Fourth
     Stage in No. 831; Fifth Stage in No. 832; Sixth Stage in No. 833.
     Boston to Concord in No. 834. Boston in No. 835. Boston to
     Gloucester in No. 836. Boston to Newburyport in No. 837. Boston to
     New Bedford in No. 838. Boston to South Framingham in No. 839.
     Boston to Nahant in No. 840. Boston to Lowell in No. 841. Boston to
     Nantasket Beach in No. 842. Boston Circuit Ride in No. 843.
     Philadelphia to Washington--First Stage in No. 844; Second Stage in
     No. 845; Third Stage in No. 846; Fourth Stage in No. 847; Fifth
     Stage in No. 848. City of Washington in No. 849. City of Albany in
     No. 854; Albany to Fonda in No. 855; Fonda to Utica in No. 856;
     Utica to Syracuse in No. 857; Syracuse to Lyons in No. 858; Lyons
     to Rochester in No. 859; Rochester to Batavia in No. 860; Batavia
     to Buffalo in No. 861; Poughkeepsie to Newtown in No. 864; Newtown
     to Hartford in No. 865; New Haven to Hartford in No. 866; Hartford
     to Springfield in No. 867; Hartford to Canaan in No. 868.




[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 questions on
     the subject so far as possible. Correspondents should address
     Editor.


If you wish to form an association of the graduates of your school, do
not hesitate to do so because you are few in number, or because the
school is not very well known. Some of the best work is done in obscure
schools, and our love for our own girls and our own teachers has nothing
whatever to do with the fame of the institution.

In beginning send word to all the girls who have ever been graduated
from your school to attend, if they can, the Commencement exercises of
this season. It will be easy when all are together to plan for future
reunions. These may be held monthly, quarterly, or annually. If you form
an Alumnæ Association, you will require a president, a secretary and
treasurer, and an executive committee to carry forward the work which I
hope you will have in mind, as well as to do your planning for pleasure.

This work may lie in any one of several directions. You may like, if you
are rich, or have many well-to-do friends, to endow a chair of history
or poetry in your school, or to found a scholarship, on which some
fortunate girl, not able to pay for her own tuition, may always be
educated. If you cannot raise much money, you may still be able each
year to do something for your school--add books to its library, or a
beautiful picture to its drawing-room, or in some way show your
attachment to the dear old school.

On the other hand, if you haven't any definite work which you wish to
do, you will keep up the school friendships and the pleasant
recollections, which will day by day and year by year grow more
precious, by the simple plan of meeting from time to time. Perhaps you
will have a luncheon when you meet, and in order to provide funds for
this you may each contribute a dollar or two dollars, as may be, and let
one or two of your number act as a committee to provide the feast. At
this the president will preside. You will place the guest of honor at
her right, and the next in importance at her left. A card with each
girl's name will be at every plate, and the table will be adorned with
flowers. If as a school you have a special color, or a special flower,
you will choose your decorations with that in view.

A good _menu_ at this season would be the following:

Small Clams on the half-shell.

Chicken Bouillon (served in cups).

Minced Salmon.

Chops with Pease and Potatoes Parisienne.

Olives. Salted Almonds. Radishes.

Lettuce or Asparagus Salad.

Crackers. Guava Jelly. Cream Cheese.

Strawberries and Ice-Cream.

Small Cakes. Bonbons. Peppermint Creams.

Coffee.

You may vary the bill of fare in any manner you choose. It may be very
simple or very elaborate, but let everything be nicely cooked and very
daintily served.

After the luncheon you will of course have speeches. The president opens
the ball, having first rapped for order. She introduces the speakers of
the occasion, who have been consulted beforehand, and who have had
subjects assigned to them. There will be a great deal of fun, and many
ripples of laughter, and at the very end you should sing the class song
to some familiar air. I ought to have said that I like at the beginning
of such a luncheon some acknowledgment of our Heavenly Father's
goodness. The president may recite grace. "Bless, O Lord, this
refreshment to our use, and us to Thy service," is a very beautiful and
appropriate form; or, rising, the whole number may say grace in common,
or may sing "Praise God, from Whom all blessings flow."

No end of pleasure and a good deal of profit will follow your forming
such an association. Many schools and colleges now find it one of the
most delightful incidents of their lives.

     C. F. R.--In addressing older people or friends of one's own age it
     is customary to say "Yes, father," or "Yes, Miss Isabel," as the
     case may be. "Yes, sir," and "Yes, ma'am," are now out of fashion.
     To your second question, it depends on circumstances. I see no
     reason why boys and girls should not be comrades, without any silly
     sentiment to spoil their pleasure. Black specks and other
     disfigurements of the skin may be cured by rigid cleanliness. Wash
     the face every night with hot water and a pure toilet soap.

[Illustration: Signature]




ADVERTISEMENTS.




Columbias

AT ONCE.

The Columbia you want is ready for you. No delay, if you choose regular
equipment. We have been preparing for months to meet the present great
demand.

       *       *       *       *       *

$100 TO ALL ALIKE

Tandems, $150

Men's Columbias

Women's Columbias

Tandems

THE STOCK IS COMPLETE

       *       *       *       *       *

Hartford Bicycles

$65, $50, $45

Such quality at such prices is unheard of. But Hartfords are leaders in
both price and goodness. Regular models ready for immediate delivery.

POPE MFG. GO, Hartford, Conn.

Branch Stores and Agencies in almost every city and town. If Columbias
are not properly represented in your vicinity, let us know.




WALTER BAKER & CO., LIMITED

Established Dorchester, Mass., 1780.

Breakfast Cocoa

[Illustration]

Always ask for Walter Baker & Co.'s

Breakfast Cocoa

Made at

DORCHESTER, MASS.

It bears their Trade Mark

"La Belle Chocolatiere" on every can.

Beware of Imitations.




Postage Stamps, &c.




$117.50 WORTH OF STAMPS FREE

to agents selling stamps from my 50% approval sheets. Send at once for
circular and price-list giving full information.

C. W. Grevning, Morristown, N. J.




[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




1000 Mixed Foreign Stamps, San Marino, etc., 25c.; 101 all dif., China,
etc., 10c.; 10 U.S. Revenues, 10c.; 20 U.S. Revenues, 25c. Ag'ts w'td at
50% com. _Monthly Bulletin_ free. Shaw Stamp & Coin Co., Jackson, Mich.




=A NICE SOUVENIR GIVEN= to every one sending for my unexcelled approval
sheets at =60% com.=

F. JELKE, 516 La Salle Avenue, Chicago.




=STAMPS!= 100 all dif. Bermuda, etc. Only 10c. Ag'ts w'td at 50% com. List
free. L. DOVER & CO., 1469 Hodiamont, St. Louis, Mo.




[Illustration: THOMPSON'S EYE WATER]




Songs.

Franklin

Square

Collection.

It would be difficult, if not impossible, to gather more features of
interest into a work of this kind. Not only are many of the best songs
and hymns in the English language here given--both old and new--but
there are also songs and hymns for children and the schools. There are
songs of home and of country, of love and fame, of heart and soul, of
devotion and praise, with their sad and sweet or lively melodies, and
with grand old chorals that stir the heart and lift it in worship.
Besides the words and music, explanatory and historic notes are given to
indicate their origin and significance. These books cannot fail to
become immensely popular.--_Lutheran Observer._

     Sold Everywhere. Price, 50 cents; Cloth, $1.00. Full contents of
     the Several Numbers, with Specimen Pages of favorite Songs and
     Hymns, sent by Harper & Brothers, New York, to any address.




In-door Exercise of a "Shut In."

     I am a "Shut In"--that is, I am not strong, and able to be out but
     occasionally. I admire athletic sports, and am doing all I can to
     get stronger. The following is my exercising programme: As soon as
     I get up I do the double bend fifty times; that is, I touch my feet
     with my clinched fists without bending the knee. If you have not
     tried it, do so; you'll find out how easy it is. Then I take a
     cane, grasp it firmly, and swing it over my head twenty-five times
     to my back without bending the elbows or arms at all. Next I take
     my dumb-bells and go through the exercises with them, first down
     sideways, front, above head, and then swing them back until they
     touch in back. This I keep up until about ten minutes have elapsed.
     After breakfast, if favorable, I take a brisk walk for about half
     an hour, and feel very much refreshed. Shortly after luncheon I
     exercise on an exerciser, and that completes my athletic training
     for the day. I have done this for about six months, and have missed
     about twenty days in doing so. It is getting very tiresome, but I
     am "sticking" to it. I would like to hear of other Knights and
     Ladies who conduct such in-door exercise.

  C. ARNOLD KRUCKMAN.
  ST. LOUIS.

       *       *       *       *       *

Music as a Bond of Union.

Our familiar tune "America," for which the late Dr. Smith wrote the
patriotic words, is a very old one, and is the national air of Great
Britain and of Germany, as well as of the United States--if we may be
said to have any one national tune. Some time since the King of Italy
and the Emperor of Germany met in an Italian city. The Emperor of
Germany is, you know, a grandson of Queen Victoria of England. The
Italian band, out of compliment to the visiting sovereign, played the
German national air. An English woman in the crowd, ignorant of the fact
that her "God save the Queen," like our "God bless our native land," is
not exclusive property, but borrowed, remarked, with characteristic
English assurance, "How sweet of them at such a time to remember Emperor
William's grandmother!"

       *       *       *       *       *

This Busy World Forgets Us Easily.

Fame is not a very tangible thing. United States Senator Aldrich of
Rhode Island, has represented his State for many years, and was very
prominent in the framing of the tariff bill which is called after the
name of Governor McKinley. The Senator tells the following incident,
adding that he has never had a conceited moment since it occurred:

"Not long since I was journeying from Providence to New York, when a
business man of my own State, a man of prominence and wealth, and an old
friend of mine, fell in with me, and at once said:

"'Good-morning, Senator. Where are you going?'

"'Oh, I am going to Washington,' said I.

"'What are you going there for?'

"'To attend to my public duties.'

"'Why, what duties--what duties do you have in Washington?'

"Blushing, I replied that I was still a United States Senator.

"'Oh yes,' said the business man of prominence, wealth, and standing;
'you were elected to the Senate, weren't you?' After a pause:
'By-the-way, who is the other Senator from Rhode Island?'"

       *       *       *       *       *

A Spirited Contest.

     On Friday evening, May 15, the Second Annual Oratorical Contest of
     the high-schools of Chicago took place in Central Music Hall. The
     prizes offered were large; to the first three, gold medals valued
     at $25 each were given, in addition to a cash prize of $100 to the
     first, $75 to the second, and $50 to the third. These gifts were
     made possible through the kindness of Messrs. Alfred S. Trude,
     Franklin H. Head, and Charles S. Thornton.

     There were two sets of markings--one set, on thought and
     composition, the judges being Henry B. Fuller, John Vance Cheney,
     and Franklin MacVeagh; the other set, on delivery, the judges being
     Luther Laflin Mills, Henry Wade Rodgers, and Judge John Barton
     Payne.

     Mr. Bertram G. Nelson, of the Englewood High-School, spoke on the
     "Problem of History," and obtained first prize. Mr. Harrison S.
     Smalley, of the North Division High-School, spoke on the subject,
     "Are We Free?" and received second prize. Miss Nellie M. McPherson,
     of South Division High-School, spoke on "War," and earned third
     prize. Altogether there were eight contestants.

     The system of marking was the average system, in which the marks
     are averaged up, and the highest average gets first place. Mr.
     Smalley received, out of a possible six firsts, five firsts, but
     because Mr. MacVeagh, "the Scholar in Politics," marked him down,
     he was deprived of a victory, which under any other system of
     marking would rightly have been given to him.

  ALBERT V. DE ROODE, K.R.T.

       *       *       *       *       *

Here You Get Whatever You Want.

     The Washington Chapter, No. 176, has organized an educational
     department, to which members may send their questions and have them
     answered on the following subjects, viz., arithmetic, grammar,
     United States history, physiology, advanced English, algebra,
     Latin, Roman history, book-keeping, zoology, etc. Test papers are
     issued every three months on the above subjects.

  GEORGE P. PAUL,
  824 RIVER STREET, TROY, N. Y.




[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.

WHATMAN'S PAPER FOR PRINTING.


Whatman's drawing or water-color paper is a very pure paper, and may be
sensitized and used for photographic prints. The process is quite
simple. Dissolve 75 grains of chloride of ammonium in 1 quart of water,
filter through cotton or filtering-paper, and soak the paper in this
solution for three minutes, or until it is thoroughly saturated; then
lay it on a clean flat surface to dry, using care in handling so as to
avoid stretching or tearing. This process is called "salting the paper."
The sensitizing solution is prepared as follows: Dissolve 3/4 oz. of
nitrate of silver in 8 oz. of water. Take two-thirds of this solution,
and precipitate the silver by adding strong ammonia water drop by drop.
This will cause the solution to turn brown. Continue adding the ammonia
till this brown precipitate is dissolved and the solution becomes clear
again. As soon as it clears, turn in the rest of the silver solution
which contains no ammonia. The mixture will again become discolored, and
must be cleared by adding a few drops of acetic acid. Filter and place
in a glass-stoppered bottle.

Fasten a sheet of the salted paper to a flat board, and with a soft wide
brush apply the solution, brushing first one way of the paper and then
the other. Brush very lightly so as not to roughen the paper. The
solution must be applied by gas or lamp light, and the paper dried in
the dark. When dry it is ready for printing. The prints should be deeper
than those made on aristo-paper. Tone in any good combined bath. The
following formula may be used; and is also suitable for any mat-surface
paper: Dissolve 1 oz. of hypo in 6 oz. of water, and filter. Dissolve
7-1/2 grains of pure trichloride of gold in 1 oz. of water. Add this
gold solution drop by drop to the hypo solution, shaking the mixture
frequently during the operation. This is a stock solution. To prepare
the toning bath take 1-1/2 oz. of this stock solution and mix it with
7-1/2 oz. of a ten-per-cent. solution of hypo. (A ten-per-cent. solution
is made by dissolving 1 oz. of hypo in 9 oz. of water.)

Place the prints in this bath without previous washing, and tone to the
desired color. Almost any tone from reddish-brown to black may be
obtained, the tone depending on the length of the time the print is left
in the toning bath. Wash well and pin on a flat board, and set the board
in an upright position till the prints are dry. The paper is of
sufficient weight not to require mounting, and the paper should be cut
large enough to leave a wide margin all round the print. For a 4 by 5
picture cut the paper 8 by 10 inches. In printing, the paper--except
where the picture is to appear--should be covered. Take a piece of
opaque paper the size of the sensitized sheet, and cut an opening in the
centre a little smaller than the negative from which the print is to be
made, and print the picture through this opening.

Another way to shield the paper from the light is to cut a square of
paper the size desired for the finished print. Paste this lightly in the
centre of a sheet of plain glass, and paint all the clear glass with
Strauss's marl or Gihon's opaque. When the paste is dry remove the
paper, and print through the clear glass in the centre.

Pictures made on Whatman's paper are not common, as few amateurs know
how to make them, but the process is very easy. The paper can be
sensitized with any of the solutions used for making tinted prints,
directions for which have recently been given. A collection of fine
prints made on Whatman's paper, using papers of different tints, is
always much admired, and well repays one for the extra labor required to
prepare the paper.

     SIR KNIGHT ARTHUR F. ATKINSON, 1711 I Street, Sacramento, Cal., who
     is president of the Niepce Chapter of the Round Table, a chapter
     devoted to the interests of amateur photographers, has sent out
     circulars to all the members asking their co-operation in
     reorganizing the chapter. This chapter has been very active, and
     has been a great help to its members. It should not be allowed to
     disband, and the charter members will gladly welcome any members of
     the Camera Club to its membership who will help to sustain the
     chapter. Send names and addresses to the president. The editor of
     this column is an associate member of the Niepce chapter, and hopes
     to see it as large and flourishing as formerly.

     SIR KNIGHT HOWARD WHIPPLE, N.D., asks for a formula for making a
     toning-bath out of dentists' scrap-gold. Sir Howard will find his
     answer in No. 868 of the ROUND TABLE.

     SIR KNIGHT RICHARD P. M'COUN asks how to prepare paper for
     printing, and if the soda developer can be used over after the pyro
     has been added. Directions for preparing sensitive paper are given
     in this number. The developer should be thrown away after using,
     unless one is going to develop in a day or two. The developer works
     very slowly after having been once used, though it is useful in
     starting development when the exposure is over-timed.

     SIR KNIGHT BURT TUCK asks if there is any remedy for over-exposed
     negatives. See No. 821 of the ROUND TABLE for treatment of
     over-exposed plates.




[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.


A bill was introduced late in the session of the Congress which has just
adjourned proposing to allow business-men to send out circulars or
letters, with return envelopes, on which prepayment shall not be
compulsory, but may be collected of the firm sending them out when
returned to them. It is claimed that the postal revenues would be
increased $30,000,000 per year. Probably the bill will be heard from
next winter. Senator Cullom proposed that the printing of the
postage-stamps be transferred to one of the bank-note companies. This
would be a move in the right direction, as the government manufacture of
the present issue has not been a success.

     O. H. SCHELL.--The ordinary English stamps were printed in sheets
     of 240. Each, stamp was different as far as the letters were
     concerned. The first stamp on the sheet bore A. B. in the upper
     corners, B. A. in the lower corners. The second stamp, A. C. in the
     upper, C. A. in the lower corners, etc. The second row bore B. A.
     in the upper, A. B. in the lower corners, etc.

     H. D. GRAHAM.--The line under the word "Postage" in the Hartford
     die of the centennial envelope is single. In the Philadelphia die
     it is double. All revenue stamps and stamped papers are collected
     by philatelists who make a specialty of this branch. U. S. Locals
     and Telegraphs are largely collected. I never saw a Postage Due
     U.S. in blue. I presume you have an essay of proof color. Did you
     take it off of a letter?

     W. T. FENNER.--The comparative worth of cancelled and uncancelled
     stamps varies, but as a rule the unused stamps are worth much more.
     In some instances, however, where large quantities were printed and
     only a few used, the proportion is the other way. A set of Postage
     Due U.S. of the current issue is worth face value only.

     F. A. R.--The 3c. blue U. S. is 1869 issue, worth 1c. used, 15c.
     unused. The green centennial envelope is worth 25c.

     R. BREHMER, 15 High Street, Rutland, Vt., wishes to exchange
     stamps, especially with foreign collectors.

     E. R. BEERE.--A Mexican dollar has more silver than an American
     dollar, but is worth only half as much. The 1806 half-cent is worth
     15c.

     E. W. KEIFER.--The 1895 U.S. silver dollar is worth face only. The
     usual custom among numismatists is to obtain the fresh coins
     directly from the mint through a Philadelphia agent.

     E. HALL.--Never cut a pair or a strip of unperforated stamps. They
     are worth more together than singly.

     TOM C.--All the low values U.S. issued during the last ten or
     twelve years can be bought of any dealer at twice face value, with
     the exception of a few rare shades. The dealers at present have a
     full supply, and many smaller post-offices still have quantities on
     hand. Probably in ten years or so dealers will have sold the bulk
     of these common stamps (at constantly increasing prices), and will
     then be glad to buy the same stamps back at much more than they
     sold them for. Age has nothing to do with value. You can buy Roman
     copper coins nearly two thousand years old at 10c. or 15c. each.

     H. M. KAISINGER.--This Stamp Department has been a feature of
     HARPER'S ROUND TABLE since December 19, 1893.

     J. P. JOHNSON.--The 1804 cent is worth $4; the 1804 half-cent is
     worth 15c.

     S. MULHALL.--Your stamp is an India Revenue, not collected in this
     country. The only exceptions are those revenue stamps surcharged
     "Service Postage," and used for postage in 1867. The surcharge is
     in green ink. The values of the four varieties are, 1/2 anna, $3; 2
     annas, $12; 4 annas, $25; 8 annas, $75.

     J. O. HALL.--The 6 kr. Würtemberg 1858 issue, unused, is worth
     $300; used, 40c. The 1859 one is 9 kr.--used, 10c.; unused, $100.

     W. W. JONES.--The philatelic button can be bought of C. W.
     Kissenger, Box 236, Reading, Pa.

     S. MANNING.--French colonial stamps bear the name of the colony in
     which they are used. Among the colonies are several in Africa and
     Madagascar. Why so many varieties are made it is impossible to say,
     but probably the profit in selling to collectors was taken into
     account by the French government. Oesterreich is Austria.

  PHILATUS.




[Illustration: Ivory Soap]

    A garb of white well typifies
  The purity that inward lies.
    So Ivory's whiteness doth express
  That pure clean soap brings cleanliness.

Copyrighted, 1896, by The Proctor & Gamble Co., Cin'ti.




You get what

you ask for

if on the face and back of each card of the famous DeLONG Hooks and Eyes
you find the words:

[Illustration]

_See that_

hump?

RICHARDSON & DELONG BROS., Philadelphia.

Also makers of the CUPID Hair-Pin.




When you come in hot and thirsty,--HIRES Root-beer.

Made only by The Charles E. Hires Co., Philadelphia.

A 25c. package makes 5 gallons. Sold everywhere.




[Illustration: THOMPSON'S EYE WATER]




[Illustration]

EARN A GOLD WATCH!

We wish to introduce our =Teas and Baking Powder=. Sell 50 lbs. to earn at
=Waltham Gold Watch and Chain=; 25 lbs. for a =Silver Watch and Chain=; 10
lbs. for a =Gold Ring=; 50 lbs. for a =Decorated Dinner Set=; 75 lbs. for
a =Bicycle=. Write for a Catalog and Order Blank to Dept. I

W. G. BAKER,

Springfield Mass.




[Illustration]

BALTIMOREAN PRINTING-PRESS

has earned more money for boys than all other presses in the market.
Boys, don't idle away your time when you can buy a self-inking
printing-press, type, and complete outfit for $5.00. Write for
particulars, there is money in it for you.

THE J. F. W. DORMAN CO.,

Baltimore, Md., U.S.A.




THE NEW YORK SUN _on April 11, 1896, said of_

HARPER'S

PERIODICALS

They are handsome and delightful all, and are as friends that one is
glad to see. They please the eye; the artistic sense is gratified by
them; they overflow with varied material for the reader. They educate
and entertain. They are the well-known and well-liked literary and
artistic chronicles of the time. They are a credit to their publishers
and to the discernment of the public that approves them. May they
continue to be as admirable as they have been and as they are. Better
could hardly be wished for them.

       *       *       *       *       *

FOR SALE EVERYWHERE.




By KIRK MUNROE

       *       *       *       *       *

SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES

A Sequel to "The Fur-Seal's Tooth."

  THE FUR-SEAL'S TOOTH
  CANOEMATES
  RAFTMATES
  CAMPMATES
  DORYMATES

Each one volume. Illustrated. Post 8vo, Cloth, $1.25

_The "Mates" Series, Four Volumes in a Box, $5.00_

       *       *       *       *       *

WAKULLA

A Story of Adventure in Florida.

DERRICK STERLING

A Story of the Mines.

CHRYSTAL, JACK & CO.

And Delta Bixby. Two Stories

THE FLAMINGO FEATHER

Each one volume. Illustrated. Square 16mo, Cloth, $1.00

       *       *       *       *       *

Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York




[Illustration]

AT FROGINI'S RESTAURANT.


        Oh, how we gloat
        On our table d'hôte
  At old Frogini's restaurant!
        He gives us pies.
        And pickled flies,
  And everything else we chance to want.

        He gives us fruits,
        And candied boots,
  And Saratoga chips frappé,
        And cider green,
        And iced benzine,
  And never asks a cent of pay.

        There's but one thing
        In all the ring
  You can't get at this fine hotel;
        All kinds or eggs,
        But not frogs' legs--
  A fact you'd better note right well.

  For if you asked Frogini for
  Frogs' legs, he'd take you to the door,
  And spite of all your fuss and roar,
  He'd hurl you like a pile of bricks,
  With many hard and fearful kicks,
  Into the street, and cry, "My dear,
  That's how we serve up frogs' legs here."

       *       *       *       *       *

A FEW FOURTH OF JULY HINTS.

I.--When the Fourth of July is not more than a week or two off, it is
well to make your preparations fittingly to celebrate the glorious
Independence day, and not wait until the day itself to get ready.

II.--To enjoy thoroughly all the pleasures of the blissful anniversary,
purchase a pair of tight-fitting asbestos gloves. With a pair of
asbestos gloves on, you could hold the pin of a pin-wheel in your hand
without getting your hand burned.

III.--Be very kind in these late June days to your uncles and your aunts
and your grandmothers. When the writer was a small boy he was very kind
to seven uncles, six aunts, and two grandmothers for fourteen days
before the Fourth of July, with the result that the seven uncles gave
him half a dollar each, the six aunts presented him with a quarter
apiece, and the two grandmothers joined in presenting him with a
five-dollar bill, so that on the morning of the Fourth of July he was
the proud possessor of ten dollars; and ten dollars, with fire-crackers
selling at the rate of ten for one cent, meant that the writer could
have had 10,000 fire-crackers to set off. It must be said, however, that
he set off only 5000 of them, and spent the balance on soda-water, two
glasses of which, like a good boy, he gave to his two grandmothers.

IV.--When the Fourth comes do not forget to rise up at half past three
in the morning. There is not much fun in setting off fire-crackers in
broad daylight when everybody is wide-awake; and besides this, the big
boys always start in with cannon, and if you lie in bed after half past
three you are apt to miss the greatest noise of the day.

V.--If you live in a neighborhood where there are a number of reckless
boys, do not fail to wear a mask. Reckless boys do not look where they
throw their lighted crackers, as a rule, and it has happened that
innocent little fellows have had their noses burned by the carelessness
of others. A mask will save the bridge of your nose, and of course you
all know that if the bridge of your nose is burned it is a hard thing to
get over.

VI.--Do not throw your torpedoes at the poor little cats that wander
forlornly about. The poor little cats are so soft that the torpedoes
merely hurt them, without going off, so that neither you nor the cats
can possibly enjoy the fun of it.

VII.--Keep on the right side of the cook. Do not irritate her, and give
her to understand that she is the dearest, nicest old cook in the world,
for she is the custodian of all the empty lard and mustard cans in the
house; and when you come right down to it, there is more fun and noise
to be had out of a bundle of fire-crackers set off in a lard or mustard
can than in two packs touched off in the open air. And what is more, if
you burn your fingers she will in most cases be the person you can reach
the quickest, and who will soothe your trouble and pain by putting flour
and butter on your blisters.

VIII.--Be careful where you lay your lighted pieces of punk. The writer
once put a lighted piece of punk on the floor of the back piazza, and,
forgetting it, sat down upon it five minutes later. There was an
explosion right away, of grief.

IX.--Be generous to your little girl friends. Remember that when your
fire-crackers have given out they may have some torpedoes left.

X.--When night comes on, no matter how early in the morning you may have
got up, remember not to get sleepy. The best part of the Fourth of July,
after all, is in the sky-rockets and roman-candles and pin-wheels.

XI.--Do not under any circumstances set off sissers in the palm of your
hand. The writer did that once, and he has really never enjoyed the
Fourth of July since.

XII.--And, finally, don't forget that you are an American who will some
day be a man or woman, and try to do things on the Fourth which, when
you get to be a man or a woman, will make you proud of the day,
yourself, and your country. This hint is, after all, the most important
one of all, and if you will ask your uncles or your aunts or your dear
old grandmothers to tell you all about it--the day, how it came to be,
and what it means--_now_, a week or two before the day dawns, you will
enjoy it all the more, and will be happy to think that you live in the
land which is the only one that celebrates "the glorious Fourth."

       *       *       *       *       *

GOING OFF.

"Papa, where are we going this summer?"

"I don't know, Willie. Off somewhere."

"Off, eh?" said Willie. "Like fire-crackers?"

       *       *       *       *       *

A MAGNIFICENT LAP.

"I wish my daddy was a centiped," said Jack. "If he had a hundred legs,
what a splendid lap I'd have to sit on! Most an acre, I guess."

       *       *       *       *       *

WALLIE'S VIEW OF IT.

"I guess that bird wishes he knew how to swim," said Wallie. "He's gone
and built a nest in our roof gutters, and if he can't swim he's got to
travel or get drownded."

       *       *       *       *       *

A NEW IDEA.

"George Washington must have been a awful tired man," said Jack.

"Tired? Why?" asked his father.

"It says here he couldn't lie," said Jack, referring to his book. "When
I'm tired I can lie down."





End of Project Gutenberg's Harper's Round Table, June 23, 1896, by Various

*** 