The Project Gutenberg eBook of Harper's Round Table, January 21, 1896, by Various.

On the 20th of December, 1848, I sailed from Honolulu, where I had been naval-store-keeper for many years. My vessel was the Chilean merchant-ship Maria Helena, and she carried as passengers several others who had long resided in the Hawaiian Islands, and who were now returning for a definite stay at home; among those were my wife, another lady, and two small children.

It was somewhat melancholy to bid farewell to the friends among whom we had lived so long, and whom we never expected to meet again, but never did a ship leave port under more favorable auspices. Wind and weather combined their happiest influences, and over the smooth water we sailed, until the island of Oahu, with its pleasant valleys and bold, romantic scenery, was lost to view. The next morning we saw Hawaii, with Kilauea breathing fire and smoke from its lofty crest, and Maui a cloudy speck in the distance. They also were soon lost to view, and nothing remained for the eye to rest on but the heaving ocean and here and there a solitary sea-bird. After losing sight of the islands, nothing of interest occurred until the 3d of January, when a large fish was harpooned, the liver of which was to have afforded a fine breakfast for the inmates of the cabin the next morning.

At one o'clock that night the Captain, supposing that we would pass Christmas Island about that time, took two observations of the stars for the latitude. These put us in the latitude of the island, but, as there was no indication of land, and as the chronometer put us forty miles to the[Pg 278] eastward, the skipper felt secure, and turned in for the night. The cabin lights were put out and all was quiet; nothing disturbed the stillness of repose save the deep breathing of the tired sleeper, dreaming, perhaps, of the native land that he hoped to see so soon again. Suddenly a startling and alarmed voice was heard from the look-out on the fo'c's'le, "Breakers ahead! Hard alee! Hard alee!"

Like an electric shock that sound passed through the souls of the sleepers, spreading consternation, and rousing them to a sense of dreadfully imminent danger. With one impulse all rushed on deck, to behold through the darkness of the night a long uninterrupted line of breakers, and to hear, above the stern words of command and the tread of hurrying feet, the wild angry roar of the surf. But even in that time of dread, hope was with us, and as the ship, still obedient to the will of her master, came slowly to the wind, there yet remained a chance of escape. The awed stillness of all on deck proclaimed how deep was the suspense. One brief moment more and the ship will be headed to sea; but suddenly she strikes; she trembles through all her strong timbers, and then resigns herself to her fate, and the breakers wash around her decks.

All hope of saving her was now at an end, and preparations were immediately begun to get the gig and whale-boat alongside in readiness to receive the women and children. Some delay occurred before this could be accomplished, and it was fully an hour before the boats were ready. During this time no expression of fear escaped from either of the ladies.

Notwithstanding the violent shocks that the ship received as she rose and fell upon the rocks with the heave of the sea, the children slept soundly, and when the boats were reported ready, with a small quantity of provisions, water, and clothing, they and their mothers were passed into them without the smallest accident, although the exploit was attended with much danger, as the ship had by this time been driven close on to the roughest water about the reef.

As soon as the whale-boat had her full complement of passengers, I among them, she was hauled astern of the ship, which was lying parallel to the shore, and pulled seaward. When about a hundred yards away, the men lay on their oars, and all waited anxiously for the dawn to reveal the full extent of the danger.

Half an hour after we left the ship we heard an awful cracking of timbers above the roar of the breakers, and could just make out through the gloom of night the falling masts as they tottered one by one, and fell over to leeward. We immediately pulled toward the ship, and hailed her to inquire if any one was injured and how they were getting on. Some one replied that all was well, and that the vessel was lying much easier.

About half past four the waning moon rose, and we supposed that day was about to break, and that the sun would soon appear to show all the circumstances of our perilous position; but although we were in a condition of the most trying nature—our ship ashore on a frightful coast, and ourselves tossed about on the open sea in a leaky boat, totally ignorant of the character of the island and its extent—no one despaired.

At last, the day dawned, and revealed to our anxious eyes a line of low coast twenty or twenty-five miles in extent, making out in a considerable point to the north and west, the shore bounded, as far as the eye could reach, by a line of sullen breakers. In the indistinctness of the twilight some imagined that they could see houses, but these proved afterward to be clumps of low bushes scattered here and there upon a sandy and uninhabited island.

Soon after sunrise the Captain joined us in the gig, and, upon consulting together, we concluded to pull around the point referred to, and seek a landing under the lee side of the island. Had this plan been carried out we must all have suffered very much before we could have procured relief, as we had but a small breaker of water and a few biscuits in the boat, and would have had to pull a long distance before finding a suitable landing-place. After pulling about a mile to the westward we reflected on this want of provisions, and decided to return and try to land under the lee of the ship.

Preparatory to making the attempt, the gig was sent alongside to get a full crew, and then to land before us; but in attempting to board the ship she got into the rollers, and was capsized before she could be pulled clear. Some of the men were injured, but they finally reached the shore, although with a badly stove boat.

This was poor encouragement for us, but having come to the conclusion that there was only one course for us to take, we made all necessary preparations, and confiding the steering-oar to an experienced hand, waited for a smooth time to make our effort.

After waiting a few moments a favorable time came, and the boat was headed for the seething breakers. As we approached them all conversation ceased, and the compressed lip and rigid features showed our painful appreciation of the approaching crisis. Soon a huge roller lifted the little boat far above the surrounding water, and she sped on like an arrow. Scarcely had we begun to feel the swiftness of our flight before we struck the beach, and the ladies and children were landed and out of present danger. During the whole of the day they remained on the beach, with nothing but two small umbrellas to shelter them from the rays of a tropical sun, while the gentlemen, Captain, and crew were engaged in saving provisions and baggage from the wreck. This work continued until four in the afternoon, when the sea became so high and the surf so violent as to render further efforts impracticable.

We also saved some sails and spars, by means of which we erected a commodious tent for the ladies and passengers, and another for the men.

Shortly after being installed in our new quarters dinner was served, and was enjoyed by every one, as it was the first food we had had for twenty-four hours.

Before this, Mr. Christie, one of the passengers, had come in and announced that he had seen two sails in the offing, and without rest or refreshment he, the Captain, and a couple of sailors started off to make an effort to communicate with the welcome strangers. The rest of us retired to rest upon rude couches made from the wreckage, and after the fatigue and excitement of the day our sleep was sound.

About eight in the morning the exploring party returned with the news that they had found the wreck of the ship Mozart upon the eastern end of the island, that from a slip of paper they had found that she had gone ashore on the 7th of the previous December, and that the supposed sails in the offing were a couple of tents erected for shelter by her crew. Although our disappointment regarding the supposed ships was great, we were glad to learn from the note left that the crew of the Mozart had been taken from the island by a passing vessel within a week of her misfortune, and that therefore there seemed a reasonable prospect of our own early rescue.

Meanwhile we had to consider the necessities of a food and water supply. The water of the island was brackish and almost undrinkable, and food was scarce in the extreme, consisting mainly of the scanty stores taken from the Maria Helena, and some biscuits found aboard the Mozart. Sea-birds were plentiful, but difficult to capture.

The Captain and I soon overcame the water famine, however, by constructing a distiller from a rusty musket barrel and the remains of an old copper boiler.

About a week after the wreck the Maria Helena went to pieces during a storm, and in a short time her broken and ragged timbers strewed the shore. Soon after this the whale-boat, with Mr. Christie, the second mate, and four sailors started off to a low promontory about fifty miles away, to erect a signal for the attention of any passing ship, and to learn something of the character of the island.

In three days one of the men returned with the news that the boat had been upset in the breakers about forty miles away, and two seamen so badly injured that the rest of the party had been compelled to leave them behind with all the water that had been saved. The uninjured ones[Pg 279] then started to return to the ship, which they reached after incredible difficulty and hardship, and a few days afterwards the wounded men were found and brought back.

In the mean time the long-boat of the Mozart had been found and decked over for sea-service. We intended to send her to Honolulu to give intelligence of our precarious situation, and to beg for relief. During the time occupied in her refitting we passed many long hours in writing to our friends. At last the letters were finished, the boat ready, and we only awaited a smooth time for her launch. This came on a Sunday, but we all felt that our situation justified a seeming violation of the day.

The word was given to shove off, and with lusty strokes the little boat was impelled forward. Breaker after breaker followed each other in quick succession, like the sturdy blows of the smith; yet she rode safely. But like a stealthy thief in the night was the insidious wave that began to form beyond the breaking waiters. At first but a barely perceptible undulation, it acquired volume and power as it approached the reef, and came thundering on as though conscious of its fearful majesty and might. Nearer and nearer came that dreaded enemy, rearing its horrid form aloft, until it struck the boat, and its work was accomplished. We watched the receding wave with straining eyes, and were right joyous to see all the crew clinging to the capsized boat or striking out manfully for the shore. All but one landed safely, and four or five of the watchers dashed in to his rescue. At last the Captain succeeded in hauling him ashore, but although for two hours we made every effort to restore him to consciousness, all our exertions failed.

After this fruitless attempt we were obliged to wait a fortnight until the surf was moderate enough to warrant another trial. On the 7th of February the boat was launched again, placed in charge of her crew, which consisted of the first mate and four men, and anchored outside the reef in safety. The rest of the day was passed in provisioning her for her cruise, and on the morning of the next day the little vessel weighed anchor, made sail to the northward and eastward, and went gallantly on her way amid our cheers and blessings.

A long period of suspense was now passed, but on the morning of the 16th of March a sail hove in sight, and soon proved to be the French frigate Sarcelle, which had been despatched to our assistance by the French consul at Honolulu as soon as he heard of our disaster from the first mate. The long-boat had made her perilous journey in twenty-two days.

The surf was too rough to attempt embarkation the morning after the Sarcelle arrived, and we sent a message off to her by a Kanaka, who was the only one of the party that could be trusted in the heavy sea—which no boat could have lived through. He was furnished with a small surf-board, and the note was hung in a bottle, which he tied around his neck. He then walked out to the edge of the breakers, and waited for a favorable opportunity before he attempted to breast them.

The enterprise that he was about to undertake was hazardous in the extreme, and his every movement was watched intently by all hands standing on the beach. The quick succession in which the rollers followed each other, their irregularity, and the sharp coral rocks just below the surface made the surf here particularly dangerous. Skill and courage were necessary to pass safely through the boiling waters.

For ten or fifteen minutes after the boy was ready he stood silently watching the breakers, waiting for a lull, and then sprang forward, keeping his surf-board extended before him. The skill and ease with which he ascended the perpendicular rollers as they came towering on, and the courage which he displayed throughout, were the admiration of all. As some huge breaker, more formidable than any that had preceded it, formed outside and came thundering on, all expected to see him thrown back before its tremendous power; but with his board raised perpendicularly before him, he climbed to the lofty crest, and was lost to view behind the conquered wave that came rushing on to break sullenly on the shore. Again and again he encountered his enemy, again and again to succeed.

In returning, the surf-board was thrown away, and awaiting a good opportunity as before, he swam boldly into the rollers, keeping his face toward them, and diving whenever they threatened to break. In this way he reached the shore without a single bruise, bringing an answer that the Sarcelle would go around to the lee side of the island, where we could embark in safety.

The next morning our caravan started, and after much suffering from fatigue and thirst, we reached the French camp at 11 p.m. of the second day.

We were treated with the utmost kindness and courtesy, and on the 26th of March got under way for Honolulu. By ten o'clock Christmas Island, the resting-place of so many weeks, sunk below the horizon, and in sixteen days we stood once more on the wharf at Honolulu, surrounded again by our welcoming friends.

SAN JACINTO CORN.[1]

BY LILLIE E. BARR.

There are thousands who remember the shout of sympathy
That rolled from the New England hills down to the Mexic sea
When the brave and gallant Houston, with his desperate little band,
On San Jacinto's flowery plain won freedom for the land.

They brought before him Santa Anna, the crafty and the bold,
The wretch who wrote the cruel words: "Slay both the young and old.
Spare no American you see; set all their homes ablaze;
For they are heretics in faith, foreign in speech and ways."

A fugitive, a captive bound, he stood that bright May day
Among the stern and angry men that he had vowed to slay,
And bowed with all his Spanish grace, and said, in accents bland:
"General, you are most fortunate to lead so brave a band!

"Are they Americans? If so, I do not understand
The men whom Mexico permits to settle in this land.
I am a soldier, but ne'er saw such men since I was born."
Then Houston took out of his pouch part of an ear of corn.

"No, sir, you do not understand," he, smiling proudly, said.
"For four days we have lived on corn, tasted not meat or bread.
How could you hope to e'er enslave men that were free men born?
And who can watch and march and fight upon an ear of corn?"

Young Zavala made answer swift: "The hope indeed is vain.
General, from off that ear of corn give me, I pray, one grain;
And I will plant the precious seed, and hoard whate'er it yields,
Till I can freely scatter it o'er all my pleasant fields!"

"And I a grain!" "And I a grain!" cried all the eager band.
Till Santa Anna surely felt he could not understand
The men who prized a grain of corn because in memory
It linked itself with a Texan fight for faith and liberty.

But in a few short years each grain increased a million-fold,
And over many a lovely mile the pleasant story told.
I heard it rustling in their leaves one sunny July morn
Camping among the tasselled ears of the San Jacinto corn.

THE BUFFALO DOLL SHOW.

BY ELIZABETH FLINT WADE.

All the Jenny Wrens of Buffalo were busy for weeks beforehand, preparing for the event of the season—the News Doll Show at Music Hall—and when the opening day arrived the result of their labor must have surprised even these industrious little workers. The first impression as one entered the great hall was that not only all the dolls in Buffalo, but in all the towns in the vicinity, had accepted the invitation to be present. There were dolls everywhere. They hung from the balcony, and clung to the fronts of the boxes; they clustered in pyramids against the walls, and crowded the boughs of huge Christmas trees; they stood on tables, and filled the evergreen arches; and each one seemed to be doing her "sawdust best" to make this the finest doll show ever given.

A more democratic gathering of dolls could hardly be imagined. They came in silks and velvets, in calicoes and muslins, in wools and in laces; they wore gorgeous Worth costumes, tailor-made gowns, and party, walking, and working gowns. Two came in bloomers, but seemed rather ashamed of themselves, and tried to hide behind a group of demure-faced nuns. There were newsboys, college-boys, Indian warriors, boy choristers, brave knights in shining armor, and solemn priests with gown and book. There were nurses in caps and aprons, milkmaids with milking stools and pails, Salvation-Army lasses, royal queens of England, and Quakers in soft gray gowns, with looks of mild astonishment at finding themselves in such a mixed company.

The doll show was planned for the purpose of giving to every little girl in Buffalo, between the ages of two and ten years, whom Santa Claus seldom if ever visits, a doll at Christmas. All the dolls were to be given away, except some of the groups, and those which were to compete for prizes, and be afterward sold. The money taken for admission and from the sale of dolls was to be divided between the Buffalo Fitch Crèche and free kindergartens, so it was no wonder that every one was interested.

Dolls were arranged to illustrate scenes from stories and from real life, and, of course, the two charities which were to have the benefit of the show were represented. A perfect fac-simile of the interior of the crèche nursery, even to the wall-paper, was shown in miniature. The nurses and babies were dolls. Baby dolls were sleeping in cradles; others were playing in the fenced and cushioned "pond," where the little one learns to creep; and others were sitting in the laps of doll nurses, taking real milk out of tiny bottles. This group was made and donated by the pupils of St. Margaret's School, and over the nursery was suspended a beautiful doll representing St. Margaret, made after the figure of St. Margaret in the famous painting in Glasgow.

The representation of the other charity—the free kindergarten—was so perfect in every detail that it seemed as if a fairy must have touched a real kindergarten with her magic wand, causing both room and pupils to shrink to Lilliputian size. So natural were the attitudes of the dolls at their work, play, and study, that one almost expected them to move about like real kindergartners.

One of the gayest groups was arranged on a raised platform in the centre of the hall. This was the Maypole dance, where, holding the ends of bright ribbons, merry-faced dolls danced about two Maypoles, which were festooned with flowers. "How natural!" was the exclamation of each spectator, while the dolls in the balcony looked down on this group as if envying them their good time, and wishing themselves in their places.

Two groups of special interest to the boys—for even boys condescended to visit the doll show—were the football game and the bowling-alley. For the football a ground had been marked off on green baize, and here a lively scrimmage was going on; the make-up of the players was exact, even to the long hair. One poor fellow, who had doubtless been in the thickest of the "rush," was limping off the ground, his clothes torn and muddy, his face stained with blood, and his football hair standing out in every direction. In direct contrast to this scrambling group were the tenpin-players in the bowling-alley. Two were playing—for it was a double alley—while the others stood in order, watching the game and waiting their turn at the bowls, each of them as silent[Pg 281] and as grave as the famous tenpin-players of the Kaatskills.

Whoever had read Chaucer's enchanting Canterbury Tales could not fail to recognize in one quaintly attired group the pilgrims on their way to Canterbury, with Chancer riding in their midst. The stately knight was at the head; following him was the "younge squire," and "short was his gown with sleeves long and wide"; and bringing up the rear was the fat and jolly priest. Having seen this merry company, one longed to hear again the charming tales they told at the old Tabard Inn in Canterbury. Next to this Old-World group was what might be called nineteenth-century pilgrims—a band of Salvation-Army lasses marching to the sound of drum, waving their banners, and shouting their "War-Cry."

The most elaborate group exhibited was called "A Hunt Breakfast" (reproduced at the beginning of this article), representing the annual "meet," when the Duke of Beaufort and the Earl of Bathurst join in a fox-hunt, an event of great importance among English sportsmen. The group surround a breakfast-table spread with every eatable found on an English breakfast-table on a "meet" morning, the food, both in form and color, being an exact imitation. The men were dressed in hunting costumes, the Duke of Beaufort and his huntsmen wearing blue broadcloth coats with buff facings, while the Earl of Bathurst and the "Vale of White Horse" men wore pink broadcloth, the cloth being imported from England expressly for these tiny huntsmen. Both parties wore white twill hunting-breeches and high top hunting-boots, and the latter would have taxed the skill of a fairy's boot-maker. At a side table one of the hostesses was pouring tea, the tea-set being of Dresden china, decorated in pink and blue, the sportsmen's colors. The whole scene was duplicated in a three-panelled mirror at the back, which was twined with holly and evergreens. At either side of the room was arranged an English park scene. Pink water-lilies floated on tiny ponds, statues showed amid the shrubbery, and a background of evergreen gave the appearance of a real wood. This peep at the way English aristocracy amuses itself was originated and arranged by Mrs. Harry Hamlin, of Buffalo, whose husband takes an active part in the well-known Genesee Valley hunts, which were described a short time ago in Harper's Magazine.

The doll which attracted the most attention was one which had come all the way from Paris—where she had just taken a prize at a doll show there—to attend the Buffalo doll show, and see how such things were done in America. From the tip of her fluffy parasol to the toe of her slender boot she was a true Parisian. Her gown was of pink brocaded satin, her coat and high poke bonnet were of moss-green velvet. In one hand she held a lace fan, and in the other a ruffled chiffon parasol, and a point-lace handkerchief peeped from a jewelled shopping-bag which she carried on her arm. Her clothing was not her chief attraction, for Mademoiselle could do wonderful things—for a doll. She turned her head, fanned herself, twirled her parasol, bowed gracefully, winked in a most coquettish manner, and shrugged her shoulders now and then as if the great doll show was all very well for America, but couldn't compare with Paris.

One group that attracted a great deal of attention represented a little newsboy, who is a well-known figure in Buffalo, selling his "last one" to a lady. The doll which won first prize was a copy of Bartholdi's Statue of Liberty in New York Harbor, and was of perfect proportion, even to the base on which it stood. Instead of a torch, she held in her hand an incandescent light.

Saturday was children's day, and all of that day the hall was filled with them. All the children's institutions had been given tickets of admission, and not one child missed the show. To them it must have been a glimpse into fairy-land. An East-Side free kindergarten teacher took the precaution of tying the children under her charge all together with a rope, after the fashion of a Swiss mother who passed through Buffalo a few years ago on her way to the far West, with her ten children tied together with a clothes-line. The children exclaimed over and admired the grown-up dolls, but not one was heard to wish for one for her very own.

"Wouldn't you like that nice doll for yours?" said an older sister to the little maid in her charge, pointing to a doll in a wonderful Worth gown.

"No, I would not," came the quick reply. "She's far too old. Do you think I want to be a grandmother?"

"They're just lovely," said one little girl, as she walked round the stage looking at the prize dolls; "but they're not nice to play with. I want a doll that will wash."

"Here is the doll I like best of all," said a brown-eyed maid, stopping before a two-year-old baby doll with curly hair and laughing black eyes.

"And I! And I too!" said half a dozen others, crowding closer. "She's just the doll you could cuddle and take comfort with."

An agent of Santa Claus was at the show on children's day. A poorly clad child was gazing wistfully at a table loaded with "every-day" dolls. "Which of those would you like best?" said a voice at her elbow, and there stood a stout gentleman looking down at her in the most friendly manner. "This, sir, if you please, sir," pointing to a doll in pink gingham. In a moment it was in her arms, and the gentleman was gone; but he was heard from at various tables, though no one could keep track of him very long; and owing to his kindness many children who never had a "boughten" doll before carried one home then. No one found out who he was, but one five-year-old, who hugged a flaxen-haired doll to her heart, said she "guessed he was Santa Claus's brother."

There were ten thousand dolls at the doll show, and the day before Christmas the police force and the members of the charity organizations distributed them, and on Christmas morning there were many happy doll mothers in Buffalo who, for the first time in their little lives, tended doll babies—thanks to the News Doll Show at Music Hall.

A PATIENT TUSSLE.

If I were you I wouldn't mind
A tussle with my Latin verb;
I'd rule myself in study hours
As if with steady rein and curb.
One day you'll find that Latin text,
If you'll have patience, just superb.

AMATEUR COOKING FOR LITTLE GIRLS.

The amount of pleasure that a little girl can have with a cooking-stove that will really and truly cook is difficult for any one who has not tried it to realize. In these days toy cooking-stoves are so made that a real true fire can be made in them, and very good meals can be cooked, even if the stove is a small one.

Two little children, a boy and girl aged respectively six and eight, think there is no fun in the world like that of cooking their supper on their stove, which stands on the hearth in their nursery. Their mamma is a good housekeeper, and has a wonderful old-fashioned receipt-book, in which she has written receipts for grown-up people's food, but which she finds can be used by the children if only a third of the materials are taken. Last week these two children—we will call them Howard and Marion, although these are not their real names—were allowed to invite their cousin Ruth to take supper with them, and to cook the supper themselves. Howard made the fire very carefully, with only just enough paper to start the shavings of wood. Then when it blazed up and the draught was good he put in some more wood and some very fine coal. Marion in the mean time was busy preparing the materials for cooking; she had to get ready creamed chicken, creamed potatoes, and cup-cake. The chicken had already been roasted and the potatoes boiled, but she had to cut up both the meat and vegetable into small pieces.

The cream sauce had to be made by adding two teaspoonfuls of flour to a half-cup of cream, and stirring it well before putting on to warm. When the sauce was ready to heat, two saucepans were filled, one with the chicken and the other with the potatoes, and the sauce was poured over them. A pinch of salt was added, and they were left on the fire until thoroughly cooked. As the fire was burning well, this was about five minutes. Served hot, these were two delicious dishes, I can assure you.

The cake both children helped to make from the following receipt, called cup-cake: 1 cup of butter, 2 cups of sugar, 3 cups of flour, 1 cup of milk, 4 eggs, 1 teaspoonful of soda. This receipt is for grown-up people, so the children only used a third of it; but it was quite as good. Marion beat the sugar and butter together until it looked like thick cream, while Howard was beating the eggs. Then the flour and beaten eggs were stirred up with the sugar and butter, and the soda (dissolved in milk) was added as a finishing touch. Then it was poured into the cunningest little patty-pan imaginable, all buttered so it would not stick to the bottom, and was put in the oven, where it only had to stay fifteen minutes, as the fire was burning just right.

There are many other things these children have learned to cook, but these three are their favorites, and they say they really can't tell which they enjoy most, the cooking or the eating.

THE MIDDLE DAUGHTER.

BY MARGARET E. SANGSTER.

CHAPTER III.

GRACE TAKES A HAND.

"Mother darling, may I have a good long talk with you to-day, a confidential talk, we two by ourselves?"

"And when can it be? You always have so many around you, dear: and no wonder, this is the centre of the house, this chair, which is your throne."

"Well, let me see," said Mrs. Wainwright, considering. "After dinner the children go to Sunday-school, and papa has always a few Sunday patients whom he must visit. Between two and four I am always alone on Sunday, and we can have a chat then. Mildred and Frances will probably walk home with Miriam, and want to carry you off to the Manse to tea."

"Not on my first home Sunday, mamma," said Grace. "I must have every littlest bit of that here, though I do expect to have good times with the Manse girls. Is Mrs. Raeburn as sweet as ever? I remember her standing at the station and waving me good-by when I went away with auntie, and Amy, the dearest wee fairy, was by her side."

"Amy is full of plans," said Mrs. Wainwright. "She is going to the League to study art if her mother can spare her. Mildred and Frances want to go on with their French, and one of the little boys, I forget which, has musical talent; but there is no one in Highland who can teach the piano. The Raeburn children are all clever and bright."

"They could hardly help being that, mamma, with such a father and mother, and the atmosphere of such a home."

All this time there was the hurry and bustle of Sunday morning in a large family where every one goes to church, and the time between breakfast and half past ten is a scramble. Grace kept quietly on with the work she had that morning assumed, straightening the quilts on the invalid's chair, bringing her a new book, and setting a little vase with a few late flowers on the table by her side. Out of Grace's trunks there had been produced gifts for the whole household, and many pretty things, pictures and curios, which lent attractiveness to the parlor, grown shabby and faded with use and poverty, but still a pretty and homelike parlor, as a room which is lived in by well-bred people must always be.

"Well, when the rest have gone to Sunday-school and papa has started on his afternoon rounds, I'll come here and take my seat, where I used to when I was a wee tot, and we'll have an old-fashioned confab. Now if the girls have finished dressing, I'll run and get ready for church. I'm so glad all through that I can again hear one of Dr. Raeburn's helpful sermons."

"To hear Frances's and Amy's chatter, one would not think that so great a privilege, Grace."

"Oh, that amounts to nothing, mamma! Let somebody else criticise their father, and you'd hear another story. Ministers' families are apt to be a little less appreciative than outsiders, they are so used to the minister in all his[Pg 283] moods. But Dr. Raeburn's Every Morning has been my companion book to the Bible ever since I was old enough to like and need such books, and though I was so small when I went that I remember only the music of his voice, I want to hear him preach again."

"Grace," came a call from the floor above, "you can have your turn at the basin and the looking-glass if you'll come this minute. Hurry, dear, I'm keeping Eva off by strategy. You have your hair to do, and I want you to hook my collar. You must have finished in mother's room, and it's my belief you two are just chattering. Harry, please, dear!"

"Yes, Miriam, I'm coming. But let Eva go on. It takes only a second for me to slip into my jacket. I never dress for church," she explained to her mother. "This little black gown is what I always wear on Sundays."

"I wish you could have a room of your own, daughter. It's hard after you've had independence so long to be sandwiched in between Miriam and Eva. But we could not manage another room just now." The mother looked wistful.

"I'm doing very well, mamma. Never give it a thought. Why, it's fun being with my sisters as I always used to be. Miriam is the one entitled to a separate room, if anybody could have it."

Yet she stifled a sigh as she ran up to the large ill-appointed chamber which the three sisters used in common.

When you have had your own separate individual room for years, with every dainty belonging that is possible for a luxurious taste to provide, it is a bit of a trial to give it up and be satisfied with a cot at one end of a long barnlike place, with no chance for solitude, and only one mirror and one pitcher and basin to serve the needs of three persons. It can be borne, however, as every small trial in this world may, if there is a cheerful spirit and a strong loving heart to fall back on. Besides, most things may be improved if you know how to go about the task. The chief thing is first to accept the situation, and then bravely to undertake the changing it for the better.

"Doctor," said the mother, as her husband brushed his thin gray hair in front of his chiffonier, while the merry sound of their children's voices came floating down to them through open doors—"Doctor, thank the dear Lord for me in my stead when you sit in the pew to-day. I'll be with you in my thoughts. It's such a blessed thing that our little middle girl is at home with us."

The Doctor sighed. That bill in his pocket was burning like fire in his soul. He was not a cent nearer meeting it than he had been on Friday, and to-morrow was but twenty-four hours off. Yesterday he had tried to borrow from a cousin, but in vain.

"I fail to see a blessing anywhere, Charlotte," he said. "Things couldn't well be worse. This is a dark bit of the road." He checked himself. Why had he saddened her? It was not his custom.

"When things are at the very worst, Jack, I've always noticed that they take a turn for the better. It may not be my way; it may not be thy way; but yet in His own way the Lord will provide." Mrs. Wainwright spoke steadily and cheerfully. Her thin cheeks flushed with feeling. Her tones were strong. Her smile was like a sun-beam. Doctor Wainwright's courage rose.

"Anyway, darling wife, you are the best blessing a man ever had." He stooped and kissed her like a lover.

Presently the whole family, Grace walking proudly at her father's side, took their way across the fields to church.

Perhaps you may have seen lovely Sunday mornings, but I don't think there is a place in the whole world where Sunday sunshine is as clear, Sunday stillness as full of rest, Sunday flowers as fragrant, as in our hamlet among the hills, our own dear Highland. Far and near the roads wind past farms and fields, with simple happy homes nestling under the shadow of the mountains. You hear the church-bells, and their sound is soft and clear as they break the golden silence. Groups of people, rosy-cheeked children, and sturdy boys and pleasant-looking men and women pass you walking to church, exchanging greetings. Carriage-loads of old and young drive on, all going the same way. It makes me think of a verse in the Psalm which my old Scottish mother loved:

"I joyed when to the house of God
'Go up,' they said to me,
'Jerusalem, within thy gates
Our feet shall standing be.'"

"Oh, Paradise! oh, Paradise!" hummed Amy Raeburn that same Sunday morning as, the last to leave the Manse, she ran after her mother and sisters. The storm of the two previous days had newly brightened the landscape. Every twig and branch shone, and the red and yellow maple leaves, the wine-color of the oak, the burnished copper of the beech, were like jewels in the sun.

"If it were not Sunday I would dance," said Amy, subduing her steps to a sober walk as she saw approaching the majestic figure of Mrs. Cyril Bannington Barnes.

"You are late, Amy Raeburn," said this lady. "Your father went to church a half-hour ago, and the bell is tolling. Young people should cultivate a habit of being punctual. This being a few minutes behind time is very reprehensible—very rep-re-hen-sible indeed, my love."

"Yes, ma'am," replied Amy, meekly, walking slowly beside the also tardy Mrs. Barnes.

"I dare say," continued Mrs. Barnes, "that you are thinking to yourself that I also am late. But, Amy, I have no duty to the parish. I am an independent woman. You are a girl, and the minister's daughter at that. You are in a very different position. I do hope, Amy Raeburn, that you will not be late another Sunday morning. Your mother is not so good a disciplinarian as I could wish."

"No, Mrs. Barnes?" said Amy, with a gentle questioning manner, which would have irritated the matron still more had their progress not now ceased on the church steps. Amy, both resentful and amused, fluttered, like an alarmed chick to the brooding mother-wing, straight to the minister's pew. Mrs. Barnes, smoothing ruffled plumes, proceeded with stately and impressive tread to her place in front of the pulpit.

Doctor Raeburn was rising to pronounce the invocation. The church was full. Amy glanced over to the Wainwright pew, and saw Grace, and smiled. Into Amy's mind stole a text she was fond of, quite as if an angel had spoken it, and she forgot that she had been ruffled the wrong way by Mrs. Cyril Bannington Barnes. This was the text:

"You are a hateful, wicked girl, Amy," said Amy to herself. "Why, when you have so much to make you happy, are you so easily upset by a fretful old lady, who is, after all, your friend, and would stand by you if there were need?"

Amy did not know it, but it was Grace's sweet and tranquil look that had brought the text to her mind. One of the dearest things in life is that we may do good and not know that we are doing it.

When the Sunday hush fell on the house of which Mrs. Wainwright had spoken Grace came softly tapping at the door.

"Mamma," said Grace, after a few minutes, "will you tell me plainly, if you don't mind, what is worrying papa? I don't mean generally, but what special trouble is on his mind to-day?"

"Potter's bill, I have no doubt," said the mother, quietly. "Other troubles come and go, but there is always Potter's bill in the background. And every little while it crops up and gets into the front."

"I can't fully explain to you, my child, how it comes to be so large. When Mr. Potter's father was living and carrying on the business, he used to say to your father: 'Just get all you want here, doctor; never give yourself a thought; pay when you can and what you can. We come to you for medical advice and remedies, and we'll strike a balance somehow.' The Potters have during years had very little occasion for a doctor's services, and we, with this great family, have had to have groceries, shoes, and every[Pg 284] other thing, and Potter's bill has kept rolling up like a great snowball, bit by bit. We pay something now and then. I sold my old sideboard that came to me from my grandparents, and paid a hundred dollars on it six months ago. Old Mr. Potter died. Rufus reigns in his stead, as the Bible says, and he wants to collect his money. I do not blame him, Grace, but he torments poor papa. There are two hundred dollars due now, and papa has been trying to get money due him, and to pay Rufus fifty dollars, but he's afraid he can't raise the money."

Grace reflected. Then she asked a question. "Dear mamma, don't think me prying, but is Potter's the only pressing obligation on papa just now?"

Mrs. Wainwright hesitated. Then she answered, a little slowly, "No, Grace, there are other accounts; but Potter's is the largest."

"I ask, because I can help my father," said Grace, modestly. "Uncle Ralph deposited five hundred dollars to my credit in a New York bank on my birthday. The money is mine, to do with absolutely as I please. I have nearly fifty dollars in my trunk. Uncle and auntie have always given me money lavishly. Papa can settle Potter's account to-morrow. I'm only too thankful I have the money. To think that money can do so much towards making people happy or making them miserable! Then, mother dear, we'll go into papa's accounts, and see how near I can come to relieving the present state of affairs; and if papa will consent, we'll collect his bills, and then later, I've another scheme—that is a fine, sweet-toned piano in the parlor. I mean to give lessons."

"Grace, it was an extravagance in our circumstances to get that piano, but the girls were so tired of the old one; it was worn out, a tin pan, and this is to be paid for on easy terms, so much a month."

Grace hated to have her mother apologize in this way. She hastened to say, "I'm glad it's here, and don't think me conceited, but I've had the best instruction uncle could secure for me here, and a short course in Berlin, and now I mean to make it of some use. I believe I can get pupils."

Mrs. Wainwright felt as if she had been taking a tonic. To the lady living her days out in her own chamber, and unaccustomed to excitement, there was something very surprising and very stimulating too in the swift way of settling things and the fearlessness of this young girl. Though she had yielded very reluctantly to her brother's wish to keep Grace apart from her family and wholly his own for so many years, she now saw that there was good in it. Her little girl had developed into a resolute, capable, and strong sort of young woman, who could make use of whatever tools her education had put into her hands.

"This hasn't been quite the right kind of Sunday talk, mother," said Grace, "but I haven't been here three days without seeing there's a cloud, and I don't like to give up to clouds. I'm like the old woman who must take her broom and sweep the cobwebs out of the sky."

"God helping you, dear, you will succeed. You have swept some cobwebs out of my sky already."

"God helping me, yes, dear. Thank you for saying that. Now don't you want me to sing to you? I'll darken your room and set the door ajar, and then I'll go to the parlor and play soft, rippling, silvery things, and sing to you, and you will fall asleep while I'm singing, and have a lovely nap before they all come home."

As Grace went down the stairs, she paused a moment at the door of the big dining-room, "large as a town-hall," her father sometimes said. Everything at Wishing-Brae was of ample size—great rooms, lofty ceilings, big fire-places, broad windows.

"I missed the sideboard, the splendid old mahogany piece with its deep winy lustre, and the curious carved work. Mother must have grieved to part with it. Surely uncle and aunt couldn't have known of these straits. Well, I'm at home now, and they need somebody to manage for them. Uncle always said I had a business head. God helping me, I'll pull my people out of the slough of despond."

The young girl went into the parlor, where the amber light from the west was beginning to fall upon the old Wainwright portraits, the candelabra with their prisms pendent, and the faded cushions and rugs. Playing softly, as she had said, singing sweetly "Abide with me" and "Sun of my soul," the mother was soothed into a peaceful little half-hour of sleep, in which she dreamed that God had sent her an angel guest, whose name was Grace.

[to be continued.]

FOR KING OR COUNTRY.

A Story of the Revolution.

BY JAMES BARNES.

CHAPTER XIV.

HIGH LIVING.

The gift of mimicry had now served the young spy in good stead. He lay hidden for some time, chuckling over having barked to such good purpose. Then he retraced his steps, and at last he found the tree. No doubt the man he had seen there had been one of the mysterious people he was expected soon to meet.

By leaning far out from one branch to the other, George could insert his hand in the hole of the projecting limb. It was empty, and he dropped his letter into the hollow. Then he returned carefully through the town to the inn, and without much difficulty gained the top of the wall, the projecting roof, and once more his chamber window. The falling snow, he knew, would hide his footprints.

He was awakened the next morning by a loud knocking. He had slept late, and the glaring sunlight, reflected from the white expanse outside, was pouring into the room. He arose hastily and unlocked the door. One of the inn servants was standing there. He touched his finger to his forehead respectfully.

"The landlord's compliments, sir, and your box is here. Shall I bring it up?" he inquired.

George had made up his mind to be surprised at nothing. "By all means," he answered. "Glad it has arrived."

The fictitious Mr. Blount did not know what to reply. "Mr. Gerry has it," he answered at last, mentioning the landlord's name at a venture.

In a few minutes the servant reappeared with a large leather-covered, nail-studded trunk. "And here's the key," he puffed. "Mr. Gerry had it, as you said, sir."

George raised the lid. Silk stockings, plush and velvet coats, satin waistcoats, and frilled shirts!—the wardrobe of a dandy—was exposed before his eyes. But instead of showing his astonishment, he merely closed the top and said:

"This may be part of the scheme," he said. "I suppose that I shall have to wear them. What's next to do?" He tried on the clothes. They fitted him as if made for him. He looked at himself in the greenish-yellow glass. "Whoever I look like," he said, "I do not resemble George Frothingham of the Twelfth New Jersey Infantry, that's one thing certain." Looking for a closet or a place to hang up his finery, he espied a small door at the farther side of the room. It opened upon a narrow stairway, and the odor of cooking showed that it led probably to the kitchen.

The only thing the trunk contained that George did not make use of was a white wig. The strong dye he had used had taken the curl out of his hair, and he drew it back from his forehead straight and glossy as an Indian's.

He chose a rather quiet wine-colored coat, crimson waistcoat, and pearl breeches, and setting the lace-trimmed hat jauntily on his head, went down into the coffee-room.

"Ah, good-morning, Mr. Blount!" said the landlord. "There was an officer of his Majesty's horse here this morning asking for you. But he requested that you should not be disturbed." George bowed his thanks, and asked the landlord to hurry with his breakfast.

As he turned about he could have fallen, for there, quite[Pg 286] close to him, was standing Schoolmaster Anderson. He was not blind at all! His keen ferretlike eyes had the same quick glance, and his thin lips that same Sphinx-like expression. But the beauty of George's disguise was proved in an instant to his satisfaction, for Mr. Anderson looked at him curiously, and asked Mr. Gerry his name in a voice that was quite audible.

"The same," the landlord replied, as his young guest seated himself at the table.

George's hands were shaking so with excitement that he could hardly hold his knife and fork at first, but he quickly got over it, and a feeling of exultation came into his mind. If Mr. Anderson had not recognized him, no one else would, surely. If no one who actually knew the real Richard Blount turned up, he was safe enough.

At this moment a loud blustering voice was heard, and a great figure came from the hallway into the coffee-room.

It was Rivington, the King's printer, the man the early patriots had wished to tar and feather for his utterances. He scarcely acknowledged Mr. Anderson's nod, but turned to an officer who was following him.

"How that little schoolmaster does put on airs!" he said. "Why he receives toleration I do not see."

"He is rather clever, I fancy," replied the officer. "His imitation of General Washington is most amusing."

George looked at Mr. Anderson once more. His small head seemed to retreat into the folds of his neck-cloth, and the lace at his wristband hung below his finger-tips. His clothes were as gorgeous as the plumage of a peacock, and he had a way of bringing his heels together with a click like a dancing-master. But the keen eyes and that protruding chin would have told an accurate observer that a brain of no mean quality was hidden underneath the curled white wig. But Rivington and the officer were approaching.

"Ah, here's my friend of the other morning!" exclaimed the officer—"young Blount of Albany." The speaker was the young cavalry Captain who had met George on the hill-side two days before. "I see you have found your tailor," he went on.

"Good! Allow me to present our loyal friend, Mr. Rivington, long-time printer to his Majesty," replied the officer.

"Your service, sir," replied Mr. Rivington, looking at George thoughtfully. "You have not changed since I saw you last at Albany."

Imagine the surprise of the fictitious Richard Blount! Everything was certainly playing into his hands. But he merely bowed, and asked the two gentlemen to breakfast with him. They accepted, and seated themselves.

George once more had to recount the story of his supposed adventures on the way from the city up the river.

Occasionally Rivington would interrupt with leading questions. "Ah, from there you turned to the left and took the Lime Kiln Road beyond Hudson—eh? Then down into the valley by Cloverburgh?"

A fear welled into George's heart. Was this man trying to trip him? So to all questions he replied in the negative, and told of another way; to which Rivington agreed, generally speaking, thus:

"Yes, 'tis the better route, I understand. A very clever ruse, indeed. Think you not so, Captain?"

"Quite wonderful," the other replied. "Mr. Blount should tell it to General Howe. The Yankees are not so clever as he thinks."

"You mentioned having despatches to his Lordship and his brother," said the younger officer. "Do you not think it would be well to deliver them as soon as possible? Pardon my suggestion."

"'Tis my intention to deliver them to-day. Can you secure an interview?" inquired George, eagerly.

"Beyond all doubt I can," said Rivington, interrupting. "They will be glad to see you."

An hour or so later George was waiting, with the florid printer, in the little anteroom of the polished hallway of one of the large private houses that belonged to New York's most wealthy family. It was here that General Howe and his brother, the noble Lord, lived when on shore. They both had quarters also on board the flag-ship in the bay.

Something was going on, for aides and orderlies streamed in and out of the big house, and despatches were being taken to the various commands; secretaries, with their arms full of papers and with pens behind their ears came out occasionally, filled with importance.

At last an orderly stepped up to where our hero and Rivington were pleasantly chatting. "General Howe will see you, gentlemen," he said, saluting.

George caught himself in the act of replying to the salute. That would never do at all. He was supposed to be ignorant of military tactics, and he trembled at his narrow escape.

General Howe glanced over the despatches lazily. He appeared to be an easy-going man of indolent habits, for he lounged in his chair. He had a good-natured face.

"So the American General Schuyler is disgruntled, eh?" he said. "'Tis quite like opera-bouffe. And they say that Farmer Gates from Massachusetts may supersede him. Well, well, the plot thickens. Burgoyne's army is obstructed by broken roads and felled trees. Let them take their time. They will encounter nothing worse. 'Tis my opinion that we forced things too hard in Now Jersey. I thank you for the news these despatches contain, my dear young sir," he said, "and it is good news to hear of our friends up the river. Can I do anything for you? You can most certainly command me. I trust I shall see you again."

A splendid hound was sprawled out on the rug before the fireplace. George looked at him carefully. He knew the dog in an instant. It was one that had been raised by Mr. Wyeth. General Howe followed the lad's glance.

"I see you know a good dog when you see him," he said. "'Twas a present to me from a soldier. He seems to have an antipathy for Yankees, but likes a scarlet coat."

The dog turned over on his back and lazily tapped the floor with his tail. Seeing George, he arose and stretched himself; but as he approached closer he suddenly grew excited, and jumped up on the young man's breast, trying his best to lick his hands and face.

"How strange!" said General Howe. "I have never seen him pay aught of attention to a stranger here before. Down, down! you devil!" The dog slunk beneath the table, and at last Rivington and "Richard Blount" stepped out in the hallway.

"'Tis strange about dogs," the older man was saying. "They are both faithful and capricious."

George went back to his hotel. On his way he had another proof that his disguise was quite impenetrable, for whom should he pass walking along the street but Abel Norton, the chief clerk. George held his breath. The old man, however, looked him in the face and passed on.

All this lack of recognition gave George the necessary assurance to carry on his fictitious position. He listened to the talk of the soldiers in the grill-room at the City Arms, but gained little knowledge of the plans even from the conversation of the officers. It was evident that the leaders of the British feared their divulgence. It was not Lord Howe's intention to let Washington know the destination of the fleet, which he could turn either northward to the assistance of Burgoyne, or southward into the Chesapeake and the Delaware. While this uncertainty remained, both forces were at a standstill.

It had thawed during the day, and a drizzling rain had set in. Late at night George opened the window, and once more stood upon the roof. Then he dropped over the wall to the ground. He had once more donned the old suit which he had worn as his first disguise, and with his collar drawn up to his ears he strode northward. He had not gone far when, as he turned about the corner of a lane, he thought he heard the sound of some one screaming. Then a doorway burst open, throwing a flood of light out[Pg 287] into the darkness, and a female voice was heard screaming shrilly:

A man's figure was seen struggling at the doorway with a woman, who had grasped him firmly by the throat.

George, animated by an impulse, jumped the fence and ran to the house. But before he reached there, a man turned the corner at top speed and disappeared.

George knew the little house well; it was in a room in the second story that he had passed many a night thinking of the past and planning for the future. It was Mrs. Mack's.

George had come within the ray of light, and it was none other than the good washer-woman who was standing there.

"The blackguard tried to rob me," she said. "He stole in the back way, and I found him in the pantry; but he didn't get a thing," she added, "He might have murthered me intirely if you hadn't come up, sir."

George stepped inside the house and closed the door. "Would you have known me, Mrs. Mack?" he asked.

"Indade in a minute, sir," she said, "I think. No, but you have changed. Perhaps it was the way you leaped the fince. Your hair, sir—what has happened it?"

"Mrs. Mack," said George, "I must speak quickly. I am here on dangerous business. If you see me anywhere you must not recognize me—until you see me in my uniform. Do you understand?"

"Shure," said the good woman. "Now I recall your face, you're a perfect stranger, sir."

George smiled. "Have you seen the deaf-and-dumb man who brought the money to me?"

"And indade and with signs, and why not?" she asked, giving the same answer that she had once before. "P'r'aps I have promised not to tell."

"It was strange that she recognized me and the others did not," George was thinking to himself, as he approached the lonely orchard, whose path was rarely used except by the occupants of the two farms that bordered it. "It may have been the walk," he added.

The snow had melted so that he could find no trace of any one having been there before him on this day, but when he reached his hand back into the limb of the tree, he touched a paper. How it thrilled him! Now he would find out what things meant. There was something else there also, and stretching out his fingers, he grasped a leather bag, which clinked musically as he drew it forth. It was more gold! He hurried back to the inn, and climbed to the top of the wall. But what was his dismay and horror when he saw a figure on the roof bending on its knees trying to look into the window of his room! A light was burning brightly within.

George lowered himself cautiously and turned about the corner. What was he to do? How was he to regain the second story? The papers must be read at once.

George did not know that the man on the roof had caught sight of his head as he had drawn himself up to the top of the wall, and had called: "Hist! Blount! Oh, Blount!" in a low tone.

Then the stranger had crawled to the edge of the roof, and whispered again: "Hist! Number Four! I am Number Two."

But he looked and listened in vain for an answer, for at this moment George had disappeared in the darkness. He had not heard the hail.

With the agility of a sailor the small figure slid to the ground and walked away quickly. If the young spy had heard the footsteps he would have known that it was his old friend the schoolmaster.

When George reached the corner he leaned back against a buttress, puzzling what to do.

Then he remembered with a start the door in his room that he had opened thinking it would be a closet, but had discovered it to be a narrow stairway that led down into a sort of servants' hall off the kitchen. If he could gain it now he might be able to see within his apartment and find out what was going on. The man on the roof prevented him, of course, from getting back the way he left.

The tap-room opened upon the alley. It was thick with the clouds of tobacco smoke, and noisy with the conversation of the crowd. He knew that if he could once get beyond it to the kitchen he might be able to find the door that led to the stairway. And now an idea struck him. The walls were covered with rough cartoons and sheets of somewhat vulgar songs, which most of the crowd had learned by heart. He had seen the men often edging along, with their faces close to the wall, as if they had been bookworms searching in a case for a mislaid volume. He stepped inside the room, and followed the same tactics. No one paid the least attention to him, and with his back to those seated about the tables, he made his way to the kitchen. Here good luck also favored him, for a fat man in a greasy apron snored in the corner. He was the only occupant, and a door partly ajar disclosed to him the servants' stairway.

George stole softly up, and reached a little landing, which he knew at once was the one he had looked at from his own room. He could hear the sound of voices from within. One was loud and hearty, and the other he knew at once as Landlord Gerry's.

"He is out on some escapade with the young officers, I promise you," said the landlord, "or mayhap he has gone over to the fleet, though all below-stairs say that they did not see him go out. Why don't you wait until the morning, sir? He appears a popular young gentleman, and may possibly stay out late."

"No, he is a sleepy-head, my nephew," responded the other. "And he will return soon if summat has not befallen him."

The other laughed. "Well, that depends where you look for beauty," he responded. "I never reckoned him as such."

George saw it all now. It was the uncle from Connecticut, who had returned, and, to use the expression, "the jig was up."

Seating himself on the stairway, his courage almost left him. What was he to do? A hiding-place must be found before morning.

He thought at once of Mrs. Mack's. There lay his only hope. But there was now some movement in the kitchen. The fat man, who had been sleeping, was stirring a rasher of bacon over the fire. The talking had ceased in his room, and suddenly he remembered with a start of fright that the cipher and locket he had left under the pillow of the bed. It almost made him sick with fear. He moved from his hiding-place, and putting his eye to the key-hole, looked within.

The candle was guttering, and a huge shadow wavered across the opposite wall. As his eye became accustomed to the light and the draught of air blowing through the key-hole, he made out the figure of the large man sitting in an easy-chair. His breast was rising and falling. He was asleep.

George tried the door. It moved, and in a moment he was standing in the room. Here he paused. In two steps more he would be in full view of the person looking through the window. He carefully measured the distance and the direction of objects about him; and drawing a long breath he blew with all his might at the candle on the dressing-case. It flickered and went out. Then he stepped across in the darkness and placed his hand beneath the pillow.

The heavy man drew a long breath and moved his head. "Confound that light!" he said, and George heard him arise to his feet and fumble along the wall.

[to be continued.]

RIDDLES IN FLOWERS.

BY WILLIAM HAMILTON GIBSON,

Indeed, are they not all riddles? Where is the flower which even to the most devoted of us has yet confided all its mysteries? In comparison with the insight of the earlier botanists, we have surely come much closer to the flowers, and they have imparted many of their secrets to us. Through the inspired vision of Sprengel, Darwin, and their followers, we have learned something of their meaning, in addition to the knowledge of their structure, which comprised the end and aim of the study of those early scholars, Linnæus, Lindley, Jassieu, and De Candolle. To these and other eminent worthies in botany we owe much of our knowledge of how the flowers are made, and of the classification based upon this structure, but if these great savants had been asked, "You have shown us that it is so, but why is it thus?" they could only have replied, "We know not; we only know that an all-wise Providence has so ordained and created it."

Take this little collection, which I have here presented, of stamens and petals selected at random from common blossoms. What inexplicable riddles to the botanist of a hundred years ago, even of sixty years ago! For not until that time was their significance fully understood; and yet each of these presents but one of several equally puzzling features in the same flowers from which they were taken.

In that first anther, for example, why those pores at the tip of the cells, instead of the usual slits at the sides, and why that pair of horns at the back? And the next one, with longer tubes, and the same two horns besides! Then there is that queer specimen with flapping ears—one of six from the barberry blossom; and the pointed, arrow-headed individual with a long plume from its apex; and the curved C-shaped specimen—one of a pair of twins which hide beneath the hood of the sage blossom. The lily anther, which comes last, is poised in the centre. Why? What puzzles to the mere botanist! for it is because these eminent scholars were mere botanists—students and chroniclers of the structural facts of flowers—that this revelation of the truth about these blossom features was withheld from them. It was not until they had become philosophers and true seers, not until they sought the divine significance, the reason, which lay behind or beneath these facts, that the flowers disclosed their mysteries to them.

Look at that random row of petals too!—one with a peacock's eye, two others with dark spots, and next the queer-fingered petal of the mignonette, followed by one of that queer couple of the monk's-hood blossom which no one ever sees unless he tears the flower hood to pieces. We all know the nasturtium, but have we thought to ask it why these petals have such a deep crimson or orange colored spot, and why each one is so beautifully fringed at the edge of its stalk?

These are but a dozen of the millions of similar challenges, riddles, puzzles, which the commonest flowers of field and garden present to us; and yet we claim to "know" our nasturtium, our pink, our monk's-hood larkspur, our daisy, and violet!

No; we must be more than "botanists" before we can hope to understand the flowers, with their endless, infinite variety of form, color, and fragrance.

It was not until the flowers were studied in connection with the insects which visit them that the true secret of these puzzling features became suspected.

We all know, or should know, that the anther in flowers secretes and releases the pollen. For years even the utility of this pollen was a mystery. Not until the year 1682 was its purpose guessed, when Nehemias Grew, an English botanist, discovered that unless its grains reached the stigma in the flower no seed would be produced. But the people refused to believe this, and it was not until fifty years later that Crew's statement was fully accepted, and then only because the great Linnæus assured the world that it was true. But about fifty years later another botanist in Germany, Sprengel, made the discovery that the flower could not be fertilized as these botanists had claimed, that in many blossoms the pollen could not fall on the stigma.

Sprengel knew that this pollen must reach the stigma, but showed that in most flowers it could not do so by itself. He saw that insects were always working in the flowers, and that their hairy bodies were generally covered with pollen, and in this way pollen grains were continually carried to the stigma, as they could easily be in these two blossoms shown at B. Sprengel then announced to the world his theory—the dawn of discovery, the beginning of the solution of all these floral riddles. The insect explained it all. The bright colors and fragrance were intended to[Pg 289] attract him, and the nectar to reward him, and while thus sipping he conveyed the pollen to the stigma, and fertilized the flower.

But now Sprengel himself was met with most discouraging opposition to his theory, showing that he had guessed but half the secret after all. Flowers by the hundreds were brought to his notice, like those two shown in Diagram C, in which the insect could not transfer the pollen from anther to stigma, as the stigma is closed when the pollen is ripe, and does not open until the pollen is shed. For seventy years this astonishing fact puzzled the world, and was at last solved by the great Darwin, who showed that nearly all flowers shun their own pollen, and are so constructed, by thousands of singular devices, that the insect shall bring to each the pollen of another flower of the same species, and thus effect what is known as cross-fertilisation.

We must then look at all flowers as expressions of welcome to some insect—day-flowering blossoms mostly to bees and butterflies, and night-bloomers to moths. And not only expressions of welcome, but each with some perfect little plan of its own to make this insect guest the bearer of its pollen to the stigma of another flower of the same species. And how endless are the plans and devices to insure this beautiful scheme! Some flowers make it certain by keeping the stigma closed tight until all its pollen is shed; others place the anther so far away from the stigma as to make pollen contact impossible; others actually imprison these pollen-bringing insects until they can send them away with fresh pollen all over their bodies.

Take almost any flower we chance to meet, and it will show us a mystery of form which the insect alone can explain.

Here is one, growing just outside my door—a blossom "known" even to every child, and certainly to every reader of the Round Table—the pretty bluets, or Houstonia, whose galaxy of white or blue stars tints whole spring meadows like a light snowfall. We have "known" it all our lives. Perhaps we may have chanced to observe that the flowers are not all constructed alike, but the chances are that we have seen them all our lives without discovering this fact. If we pluck a few from this dense cluster beside the path, we observe that the throat of each is swollen larger than the tube beneath, and is almost closed by four tiny yellow anthers (Fig. 1). The next and the next clump may show us similar flowers; but after a little search we are sure of finding a cluster in which a new form appears, as shown in Fig. 3, in which the anthers at the opening are missing, and their place supplied with a little forked stigma! The tube below is larger than the first flower for about two-thirds its length, when it suddenly contracts, and if we cut it open we find the four anthers secreted near the wide base of the tube. What does it mean, this riddle of the bluets? For hundreds of years it puzzled the early botanists, only finally to be solved by Darwin. This is simply the little plan which the Houstonia has perfected to insure its cross-fertilization by an insect, to compel an insect to carry its pollen from one flower and deposit it upon the stigma of another. Once realizing this as the secret, we can readily see how perfectly the intention is fulfilled.

In order to make it clear I have drawn a progressive series of pictures which hardly require description. The flowers are visited by small bees, butterflies, and other insects. At the left is an insect just alighting on a clump of the blossoms of the high-anther form indicated below it. The black probe represents the insect's tongue, which, as it seeks the nectar at the bottom of the tube, gets dusted at its thickened top with the pollen from the anthers. We next see the insect flying away, the probe beneath indicating the condition of its tongue. It next alights on clump No. 2, in which the flowers happen to be of the high-stigma form, as shown below. The tongue now being inserted, brings the pollen against the high stigma, and fertilizes the flower, while at the same time its tip comes in contact with the low anthers, and gets pollen from them. We next see the insect flying to clump No. 3, the condition of its tongue being shown below. Clump No. 3 happens to be of the first low-stigma form of flowers, and as the tongue is inserted the pollen at its tip is carried directly to the low stigma, and this flower is fertilized from the pollen from the anthers on the same level in the previous[Pg 290] flower. And thus the riddle is solved by the insect. From clump to clump he flies, and through his help each one of the pale blue blooms is sure to get its food, each flower fertilized by the pollen of another.

Another beautiful provision is seen in the difference in size of the pollen grain of the two flowers, those of the high anthers being much larger than those from the lower anthers. These larger grains are intended for the high stigma, which they are sure of reaching, while those of smaller size, on the top of the tongue, which should happen to be wiped off on the high stigma, are too small to be effective for fertilization.

HOW RUFUS TRAPPED THE BURGLARS.

BY WILLIAM HEMMINGWAY.

The squealing of dry snow under horses' hoofs awakened Rufus Walker. His room was the nearest to the turnpike crossing. Perhaps that was why he was the only sleeper in the railroad station at Winona to be aroused by the approaching sleigh. It was a sleigh, that was certain; for now Rufus could hear the smooth, easy, half-shuffling sound of the runners on the well-packed snow. Who could it be travelling at that time of night? The horses were going at a walk. Neither of them wore a bell. "Maybe some one has come to wake up father and send a telegram," thought Rufus, sleepily. But no, the sleigh bumped over the railroad tracks and passed on. The boy heard the shrill crunching of the snow a few times more, and then he fell asleep again. If he had only felt enough curiosity to get up and look out of the window he would have seen something to make his heart beat very fast indeed; but the cold air nipped the tip of his nose and made it numb, and he buried his face in the blankets and slept.

Rufus Walker's father was the station agent and telegraph operator at Winona, in the heart of a vast wheat-raising section of Dakota. For miles the country stretched away in gentle undulations. In the spring you looked out on a sea of waving, tossing green, crinkled and fretted by every passing breeze. In the fall the green sea had turned to gold, and those noisy ships, the mowing-machines, went clattering through it. Now the vast expanse lay white and still under its frosty blanket. The wheat harvest had been gathered into the barns, and for weeks little Rufus had heard the farmers talking about "number one hard," and "number one," and all the other varieties of the grain. Right opposite the station and across the railroad track stood a grain elevator. Its gigantic shape rose over the little station like a castle towering above a tiny cottage. The farmers for miles around would begin to haul wheat to the elevator to-morrow, for Mr. Price, Pillsbury's elevator superintendent, had arrived that day. He had brought a satchel full of packages of new crisp bank-notes, and fat little rolls of gold eagles and double-eagles. He always paid cash for the wheat as he bought it. That is the custom all through the wheat country.

The thick black bag of alligator-skin that held more than five thousand dollars was locked in the safe that stood in the office of the grain elevator. The money was the attraction that had brought the three men, who silently got out of the sleigh in the shadow of the tall building. They tied their horses to a ring near the office door, then stealthily crept through the snow to the railroad station.

Little Rufus Walker woke up with a start. A big man with a handkerchief tied across the lower part of his face was shaking him by the shoulder.

"Well, you're old enough to have sense," said the man. "All you've got to do is to keep still. We're just goin' to relieve Mr. Price of that bag o' money. You keep still, d'ye hear?"

The big man strode out of Rufus's room and joined his two companions at the further end of the hallway. They had gathered Mr. Price, Rufus's father, Mrs. Walker, and big Tom Walker in one of the rooms. Evidently the strangers had awakened Rufus last of all. He sat up, shivering, with the blankets wrapped around him. His hair was standing up so straight that it seemed to bend backward. His teeth chattered.

"Oh, I left him in his bed!" replied the voice of the big man. "He's no bigger than your thumb, and he—"

"No; let him stay in his bed," said the big man's voice. "He ain't sizable enough to make trouble. He couldn't live to go two miles to the nearest house for help."

"All right," said the strange voice. "Now, Mr. Price, we don't aim to bust your safe. If you was a polite gentleman you'd just skip over and open her for us. However, we've got the little implements here, and we'll have her open in less than an hour fair an' easy. Bill, you keep these folks quiet till we whistle for you."

Rufus heard two men go down stairs. Then he heard them stamping through the snow toward the grain-elevator. There was silence for five minutes or so, and then he heard the "bink! bink! bink!" of hammers falling on steel wedges. Rufus suddenly wondered if he couldn't call help in a way the robbers hadn't thought of. He stealthily got out of bed and put on his coat, trousers, and thick woollen stockings. His heart fluttered and jumped so hard that he was afraid he'd lose it as he crept inch by inch to the stairs that led down to the ticket and telegraph office. How glad he was when at last he stole in there as silently as a ghost! How glad he was that his father had encouraged him to learn how to telegraph! He wasn't a fine operator yet, but he thought he could manage to telegraph something useful. Very slowly he pulled out the plug in the switchboard that cut in the instrument on the telegraph line. He threw over a little brass lever so that the noisy "sounder" was cut off from the "relay" instrument. He screwed the points of the relay down so fine that the instrument ticked no louder than a watch. He tightened up the key, too. From upstairs he could hear the gruff voice of the big robber as he made jokes at the expense of his victims. Rufus knew that the night train-despatcher at Springfield was always at the wire, so he telegraphed,

In a moment the relay ticked out, "Ay—ay—Sg." That meant that the despatcher heard the call. Then Rufus, his fingers stiff from the cold and clumsy with fright, bravely ticked this message:

This meant: "Three robbers have held us up. Two are breaking open the safe in the elevator, and one is guarding our people. Please send help quickly. Do you understand!"

The despatcher gave a quick "Ay, ay!" closed his key, and rushed out into the railroad yard. Within two minutes a locomotive was running westward toward Winona, eighteen miles away. Besides the engineer and fireman, there were four freight brakemen in the cab. Each one had a rifle. The engineer kept the throttle wide open until he was within a mile of Winona. Then he shut off steam.

"Her headway'll carry her a long way," he remarked to his companions, "and it's all down grade from here."

Within a quarter of a mile of Winona the fireman put all his strength on the brake-wheel and brought the engine to a stop. The four brakemen cautiously plodded up the track.

Little Rufus sat in the dark office, numb with cold and fear. Every sense was on the alert. He thought the glare of the moonlight in the snow would blind him as he gazed down the track, minute after minute, through a knothole in the shutter. At last he saw a black dot away down the track. The dot turned into four dots as it swung around the curve. They came nearer, and he could make out the burly figure of Tim Ryan and the other three brakemen, each with a gun resting across the hollow of his left arm. The four figures silently passed by the office window, and[Pg 291] crossed over to the grain elevator. Rufus could still hear the "bink! bink! bink!" of the hammers on the steel wedges. If he had dared to follow, he would have enjoyed what happened. The door of the safe was almost off when the robbers heard Tim Ryan's soft voice bidding them "Be aisy, now, an' lift yere hands above yere heads!" The two thieves almost fell over in their surprise.

The fourth brakeman easily captured the lone robber upstairs. Little Rufus went up stairs as soon as the excited men stopped talking. When the three thieves had been tied hand and foot, and Rufus had explained to his father and mother how he had summoned help, everybody looked at him in surprise.

"So scared I could hardly hold on to the key," said Rufus. "But I was too scared to let go of it, too."

THE JOYS OF WINTER.

Hurrah for the joys of winter!
For the jolly sparkling weather,
For the lake like glass where the skaters pass,
For the flying flake and feather!
Hurrah for the fun of rushing
Down the long toboggan slide,
For the dash ahead of the winning sled
Round the curve of the steep hill-side!

Hurrah for the joys of winter!
Jack Frost and the boys are friends;
To the girl's bright face what a witching grace
The touch of his pencil lends!
Hurrah for the wild northwester,
And the crisp cold wintry night
When the rough wind blows and we toast our toes
In the glow of the hearth-fire's light!

THAT BIT OF LOOSE FLAGGING.

BY GEORGE GRANTHAM BAIN.

That piece of loose flagging should have been fixed long before. It was one of those wicked, insidious suggesters of temptation which are quite as bad in their moral effect as the temptation itself. Probably not a man or woman stepped on that wobbling piece of stone but thought of the possibilities that lay below it. Directly beneath were the vaults in which were kept the millions on millions of silver and gold dollars belonging to the government Treasury. The first thought that the loose flagging suggested to the mind was always: Suppose it should turn over and drop me into the vault where the gold is kept; and suppose it was as easy to get out as to get in; and suppose—for I do not believe there was any one wicked enough to want to steal the coin—suppose there was no objection on the part of any one to carrying away as much gold as the pockets would hold. What a jolly time one could have with it!

That is what Harry Holt thought every night when he left the Western Union Telegraph Building and started home. He always crossed over to the Treasury Department sidewalk and walked on the loose piece of stone. There was no harm, he thought, in imagining all of the delightful things that he could do with a pocketful of the gold. For he was quite sure that even if the flagging was as loose as it seemed to the pressure of his foot, and even if he could move it—and he was tempted often to stoop and see—the top of the vault below was of heavy steel, and the only thing he would get if the flagging gave way was a good bumping, if not a broken leg. So the loose flagging was only a touchstone to a little world in which Harry lived on his way home each night from his telegraph desk—a world where all the hot summer days were made of trips to Nova Scotia, and the winter of sunny sojourns in the everglades of Florida.

"My wire's clear at both ends; I think I'll go home," said Harry to the chief operator one hot night. It was five minutes before his time for leaving the operating-room, and Western Union orders are strict. The chief operator shook his head and went on. Harry turned sulkily back to his desk and picked up a fan. On a night like this, when every one in the room was steaming with the heat of the overcrowded room, the click of the instrument before him and the hum of the other instruments all about jarred on his nerves. He wanted to get to his little room uptown, where at least he could take a plunge in the bath-tub if his blood was overheated. He hated the slavery of the operating-room, and the set rules that made him only a part of the machine to earn dividends for a lot of New York people in whom he had no interest. Harry was not a philosopher, or he would have said to himself that the surest way of heating his blood still more, and increasing his discomfort on this trying night, was to worry about something, to fret, to be discontented.

Well, five minutes is not a very long time. Harry took his coat on his arm and his hat in his hand; for it was long past the hour when every one but a few night-workers and an occasional policeman had gone to bed. The electric lights sputtered and spit as he came out of the building, and the hot white light dazzled him a little. Then the steam from the overheated asphalt came up into his face as he cut across diagonally toward the Treasury building. It looked cool and comfortable in its dress of white marble, and Harry thought how pleasant the air must be down in the sub-basement, far below the heat of the street. Then he stepped on the loose flagging, his steps turning to it as naturally as though there had been no other path, and the flagging gave way. It was so sudden that he had no chance to struggle or to try to regain the solid ground. Before he could even spread his arms to catch the edges of the stones about the opening, he had fallen below the surface of the sidewalk.

He had an awful consciousness that he was doing something wrong—as though his dreams about that loose flagging had exercised some weird influence on it, and so far loosened it as to make it give way under the weight of his body. And he suddenly remembered that he had read somewhere of a little army of watchmen who guarded the treasure vaults with weapons in hand, and who had been known to shoot first and make inquiries afterward. That would be very awkward, thought Harry; and all of this passed through his mind in the little space of time which it took for a fall of—well, he thought it was one hundred yards, but every one knows that the Treasury vaults have ceilings no higher than the ceiling of your room.

"Hello!" said a voice at his elbow. Harry had alighted somewhere. Just how he had managed to do it after that tremendous fall without breaking a leg he could not understand; but here he was on his feet, with no evidence of any damage done, and opposite him was a pleasant-faced old gentleman with a white beard, wearing a pair of steel-bowed spectacles which gave his face a benevolent aspect. Just behind the old gentleman was a stack of wooden boxes as high as the ceiling—-and Harry saw now that the ceiling was not so very high after all—and lying around the room were white canvas bags with figures stencilled on them. There was a table not far away, with a delightful-looking cold luncheon spread on it, and there was a bowl of lemonade or something that looked like lemonade with a big square piece of ice floating on its surface. Harry's tongue had been parched all evening in the hot operating-room. He longed for a little of that lemonade, but he hesitated to ask the stranger for it.

"You came by the balloon route," said the old gentleman, not inquiringly, but as though he stated a recognized fact.

"I really don't know how I came, sir," said Harry, finding his tongue. "I didn't know I was coming."

"I fancied you came in a hurry. I see you haven't had time to put on your coat," said the old gentleman.

Harry felt very much ashamed of his shirt sleeves, and he tried very hard to put his coat on. But, curiously enough, whether it was from embarrassment or some other reason which he could not understand, he could not get his arms into the sleeves. Moreover, the more he tried, the more the sleeves of his shirt showed a disposition to come off his arms and leave him in a more embarrassing condition. In fact, all of his clothing felt loose and unstable, and Harry was much worried for fear that he would find himself in the presence of this critical old gentleman without a stitch of clothing on. The old gentleman came to his rescue.

"Never mind," he said; "we must make some allowance for the Czar's messenger. I suppose it is hot in America for one so recently in Russia."

Harry thought that the best way to do with his strange new acquaintance was to agree with him. He seemed kindly disposed, if he was a little eccentric. So Harry ventured to stammer out: "It is a little colder in St. Petersburg."

"Of course it is," said the old gentleman, sitting down on a pile of the canvas bags and rubbing his hands together. "The last messenger was actually sunstruck. But he came in his fur-lined robes of office. You were sensible to leave yours behind."

Harry accepted the tribute with a vague smile. He was a little puzzled, but even in his uncertain mental condition he felt reasonably sure that he had never owned any fur-lined robes. Still he was certain that any one who left fur-lined robes behind on a day like this, whether they were his own robes or those of some one else, was a very sensible person and deserving of commendation.

"I suppose you have come after the fifteen millions for the Grand Duke!" said the old gentleman.

"Not at all," said Harry, for he was seized with a fear that the old gentleman might deliver to him some other man's property, and then have him arrested for theft when the mistake was discovered.

"That's all right," said the old gentleman, reclining on the canvas bags, and nodding his head encouragingly. "You can trust me."

"What's that?" said the old gentleman, jumping up and speaking very fiercely. Then he sat down again. "Of course you have," he said, calmly. "Otherwise how would you be here, and how would you be able to carry it away?" And Harry thought it best not to contradict him again.

"There is the lot over there," said the old gentleman, indicating another pile of canvas bags just beyond, and to Harry's left. "It isn't much of a load when you know how to carry it."

"Am I to carry all that?" asked Harry; for the bags looked as though they might weigh a ton.

"And a very light load," said the old gentleman, nodding and smiling. "Sit down." He pointed at the bags.

Harry was glad of the invitation, though an invitation to supper or to a drop of that cooling lemonade would have pleased him more. The old gentleman seemed to divine his thoughts, for he pointed at the lemonade bowl, and said, with a smack of his lips, "A little later." Then he motioned again to the pile of coin-bags. Harry threw himself down on them. Then a dreadful feeling went through him. He felt as though he were afire. The bags were hot—as hot as boiling water—so hot that he sprang from them with a scream.

"What's that?" said the old gentleman, springing up. "Then you're not the Czar's messenger. You haven't the key. You are an impostor. You are a thief."

He caught up one of the canvas bags on which he had been sitting. It burst, and the yellow gold pieces flew out in a shower on Harry's head. Each of them seemed to burn a hole where it struck. Harry fell to the floor. The old gentleman caught up another bag and poured its contents over Harry. His face had the expression of a fiend now. More and more gold he poured on Harry's prostrate form, until all but his head was quite hidden from view. Each gold piece burned, and burned, and burned. The heat was intolerable. Harry screamed with the pain of it.

"What's the matter with you, Holt?" said a voice in his ear. The chinking of the gold pieces as they fell seemed like some old familiar sound. Some one took hold of his shoulder, and the voice said again, "Here, what's the matter with you!" The chinking now was like the clicking of the telegraph instruments in the operating-room. Harry opened his eyes and looked about him. The old gentleman was gone; the bags of gold were gone. The old desk was under his arm, and the chief operator was bending over him.

"Your time's up, Harry," he said. "I thought you were in a hurry to get home. This isn't a very good place to sleep on a hot night, anyhow."

The clock on the wall opposite said half past two; it was twenty-five minutes past when Harry had told the chief operator that he wanted to go. He had been asleep perhaps three minutes, and every garment on him was wet with perspiration. His hat and coat were not in his hands. He looked for them, and then he remembered. They were still in the closet. He got them, and walked slowly down the four flights of stairs. When he came out on Fifteenth Street his footsteps turned instinctively in the direction of the Treasury building. But Harry resolutely turned them the other way.

"I don't want any more dreamland riches," he said, as he thought of the old gentleman and his red-hot coin.

In the lull following upon the activity of football, and preceding track athletics and baseball, I shall devote as much space as possible in this Department to comment on seasonable sports, and on the methods for training and preparation for spring work. So many letters come each week asking for suggestions about training, especially for the running events, and requesting information on the various outdoor sports for ice and snow, that it seems advisable to award to these subjects the preference, for the next few weeks at least. Concerning training for field sports, I shall endeavor to treat of putting the shot in an early number of the Round Table, and soon afterward we shall have hints and advice on training for the sprints and the middle distances. This week I want to devote almost all available space to the prime winter sport of curling, about which I have been asked for a description by a number of correspondents in the Northern and Western States and Canada.

Curling is essentially a Scottish game, and one over which the stolid Scotsmen manage to work up considerable enthusiasm and excitement. It has been imported into this country, and especially in Canada have American curlers become almost as proficient as any in the world. Few games afford better sport and exercise, and a certain amount of muscular strength is demanded of the players. The game is played on ice, of course, and the space marked out for playing is called a "rink." This is usually a strip of ice on a pond or a stream, forty-two yards long and eight or nine yards wide, swept clear of snow. A "tee," or goal, is set down at each end of the rink. The tees are 39½ yards apart. Seven feet behind each tee is a small circle called a "foot-circle," from which the curlers launch their stones. From each tee as a centre a circle must be drawn, with a radius of seven feet, and every stone which is not outside of this circle when it has stopped moving counts as one point in the reckoning. Outside and beyond the tee circle a line is drawn across to the rink, and the stones which pass this boundary are called dead—that is, they do not count. Seven or eight yards inside of each tee another line is drawn across the rink, and every stone that does not pass this "hog-score," as this line is called, is removed from the ice, out of the way of coming stones. The "middle line" is drawn half-way between the tees across the rink. Perhaps a better idea of this complicated delineation of a curling-rink may be gathered from the diagram at the top of the next page.

There are usually four players on a side, and each player is armed with two stones. These stones are of circular shape, with flattened sides, and must not weigh more than fifty pounds nor less than thirty pounds. Neither must they be more than thirty-six inches around, nor less in height than one-eighth of the greatest circumference. Curling enthusiasts attach great importance to their stones. They have them of various weights to suit their own fancy, and of every possible variation of form. Some players prefer flat stones, while others have a liking for high ones. As a rule, however, the favorite is that which is neither very flat nor very high, the reason for this being that such a stone is well "centred," having the centre of gravity about in the middle, and being therefore more easily handled. These stones are usually cut out of granite; they are then highly polished, and frequently fitted with very ornamental and highly expensive handles.

The players are also provided with brooms, with which they sweep off the snow and other obstacles from the rink. One point of judgment in curling is to know when to sweep the way clear for a coming stone and when not to, the sweeper knowing about how fast the stone will go for its weight, and about where it will land if allowed to travel over a rough or a smooth surface. The number of points ordinarily appointed as decisive of a [Pg 294]curling-match is thirty-one, and the side which first scores that total is the winner. The chief aim in the game is to hurl the stone with the proper amount of strength, so that it will take its place close to the tee. Then a certain amount of generalship must be used by one side to so distribute its stones that the opponents may not be able to dislodge those nearest to the centre of the tee circle. It will be seen that curling is a sort of giant game of shuffle-board, but much more susceptible to scientific work than the latter. A close finish in curling frequently arouses both parties to the highest excitement, and many funny stories have been written about staid Scottish squires and dignified dominies who have found themselves hotly disputing with one another on a curling-rink. For those who may be interested in the sport, and who care to become more familiar with it or to learn the many rules which experience and practice have shown to be necessary, I recommend an article on curling in the volume on skating in the Badminton Library.

The many protests in the recent contests held by the New York I. S. A. A. have led the officers of that organization to formulate and adopt some new rules which will now make the conditions of contests perfectly clear. The changes in the constitution recently adopted are good ones, and have all been framed with a view to purifying sport, and with the intention of holding all New York school-boy athletes to the closest interpretation of the spirit of amateurism.

A very vague idea of the rules and regulations which govern amateur sport has been held by the majority of school athletes in this city until recently. I think this must have been because they were not as familiar as they might have been with the laws enacted by their own association. These laws were perhaps not as strict as they should have been, and I am now glad to see that the managers are tightening the reins. Every boy who goes into athletics here or anywhere else should know exactly what his rights and his duties are in matters of sport, and especially in the matter of eligibility in these days, when professionalism is so steadily trying to steal into the camp. I cannot but believe that if every scholar in this town had known by heart the N. Y. I. S. A. A. rules of eligibility last year, the errors of some misguided athletes would never have been made.

The new rules governing eligibility are clear and unequivocal, and it is hard to see how even the most professionally inclined can now beat about the stump. The first section of the new Article XI. states that "no one shall represent any school as a competitor in any athletic contest who has not been a member of that school from the first of January of the school year in which the contest is held, or who has actually been paid wages for services during the school year, or who has been enrolled as a member of any college, or who has attained the age of twenty years, or who is not in good standing with the Amateur Athletic Union of the United States."

The article proceeds to explain that having been a member of the sub-Freshman class of the College of the City of New York does not debar a scholar from competing, and this is eminently just. A most important provision follows, and I cannot urge too strongly upon the I.S.A.A. committee to enforce this rule to the letter if it results in having only one contest a year. It is to the effect that any school wishing to enter a team for the baseball, football, tennis, or track-athletic championship must file a list of all players or competitors with the chairman of the committee governing that special branch before such team can enter any contest. The next two sections specify that in such list the ages of all players or competitors shall be given, and the list must be signed by the principal of the school, to certify that all the intended players or competitors are eligible.

In view of recent events, the revision of Article XIV. also cannot be too gladly welcomed: "Section 1. No school shall, through any of its officers or by any other means, directly or indirectly, by offering any inducements, influence or try to influence a pupil of any other school to sever his connection with said school. Section 2. The offering of a regularly established or other scholarship by any school or officer thereof, as an inducement to change from one school to another, shall be considered an inducement." Much annoyance would have been saved if these paragraphs had been in the constitution when it was first formulated, and I think that this revision might be even further fortified by inserting the words "directly or indirectly" in the second section as well as in the first.

It is a wise provision also that any school entering a team for the baseball or football championship must play all games for which they are scheduled under penalty of $5 fine for each game forfeited. My only criticism is that the penalty might be doubled or trebled. The championship series of football games last fall, in Brooklyn, was greatly interfered with by the continual forfeiting of games by the weaker teams. This Department spoke of the evil at the time, and I would now urge the Long Island League legislators to insert some such by-law in their code as the New Yorkers have just established.

Athletics are progressing so vigorously in Philadelphia that a new interscholastic league, in addition to the Inter-Academic A. A. of some years standing, has been organized. Tho new association held a meeting a few weeks ago, at which delegates from the Central High-school, Wilmington High-school, and the Central and Northeast Manual Training schools were present. A committee was appointed to see the Friends' Central, Catholic High and Swarthmore College Grammar Schools, and invite them to join the association. The meeting then adjourned to meet at the call of the chair to receive the report of this committee. This committee should at once communicate with the officers of the National I. S. A. A., and apply for membership. The new league has some strong schools in it, as readers of this Department may see by glancing over the list. The Central High-school of Philadelphia is probably the largest school in that city, and both the Wilmington and Swarthmore Grammar schools have already acquired enviable records in sport.

An Interscholastic Polo League has been formed in Boston, under the auspices of the B.A.A., with the following schools as members: Melrose High, Cambridge High and Latin, Roxbury Latin, and English High. A provisional schedule has been arranged, but as the weather is an important factor in polo, it may be necessary to postpone several of the contests. The dates chosen are:

CAMBRIDGE H. AND L.

ENGLISH HIGH.

ROXBURY LATIN.

MELROSE HIGH.

It is to be hoped, if the season proves a successful one and the cold weather holds out, that the winner in this Boston League will arrange for a championship game with the winner in the Connecticut League.

On account of this delay in receiving the portraits of Messrs. Carey and Lutkins, who were selected for members of the All-New-York football team, the pictures could not be reproduced until this week. Carey of the Hamilton Institute would play right half-back, and Lutkins would rank as first substitute on the All-New-York eleven, the full details of which were given in the Round Table of January 7th.

The game of basket-ball promises to become popular among the colleges and the larger schools of the country this winter. This Department will devote some space to the game at an early date, which is taking up the attention of scholastic sportsmen in Connecticut.

A POUND OF FACTS

is worth oceans of theories. More infants are successfully raised on the Gail Borden Eagle Brand Condensed Milk than upon any other food. Infant Health is a valuable pamphlet for mothers. Send your address to N. Y. Condensed Milk Co., N. Y.—[Adv.]

Educational Athletic Figures

Souvenirs of

Twenty Years

in Business.

A COMPLETE SET, Embracing the above five figures, will be sent to any address in the United States or Canada on receipt of 10 cents, to pay charges. These figures are perfect in every particular, and suitable souvenirs of our twenty years as positive leaders in the manufacture of everything that is essential for outdoor or indoor sports and pastimes.

A. G. SPALDING & BROS.,

Largest Manufacturers of Bicycles and Athletic Goods in the World.

Arnold

Constable & Co

Laces,

Embroideries.

Emb'd All-Overs, Edgings and Insertings

in Mousseline, Linon, and Batiste.

REAL LACES,

Chiffons, Lace Collars, Fichus.

EMBROIDERED ROBES,

OSTRICH BOAS.

Broadway & 19th st.

NEW YORK.

BEN BOLT, as sang by Trilby, 5 cents; The Band's Coming, new 2-step, 5 cents; My Old Kentucky Home, Foster, 5 cents; Under the Double Eagle, 2-step, 5 cents. All complete for organ or piano. Address

LITERATURE AND MUSIC, Washington, D. C.

After the beady, sparkling draught, who wants the dregs?—The DELONG Patent Hook and Eye is the original.

See that

hump?

Richardson

& De Long Bros.,

Philadelphia.

HOOPING

COUGH

CROUP

Can be cured

by using

ROCHE'S HERBAL

EMBROCATION

The celebrated and effectual English cure, without internal medicine. W. EDWARD & SON, Props., London, Eng. Wholesale, E. FOUGERA & CO., New York

Continuing our trip from New York to Washington, we take up the journey at Westminster for the run thence in Baltimore. The road is a turnpike of limestone, as are most of the important roads in that part of the country. It is moderately level nearly all the way, and there is little difficulty in keeping to it on this particular stretch of the trip. Leaving Westminster you pass out of town under the railroad, and start out at once on the turnpike for Carrolton, taking care to take the left fork a little less than a mile out. From Carrolton through Sandyville to Finksburg, and thence to Reisterstown the way is direct and unmistakable, there being almost no road of an equal importance to the main pike, and therefore little opportunity for any one to get off the route. This makes up a run of about fourteen miles over an easy road, and you are strongly advised, therefore, not to make much of a stop here, but to run on to Pikesville at least, unless the company happens to be made up partly of women, when a stop may to advantage be made here, and another at Pikesville or Howardsville.

From Reisterstown the pike runs almost due southeast five miles to Greenspring Junction, and then two miles further on to Pikesville. Keeping straight on over a remarkably good road in pleasant weather, you pass through Howardsville less than two miles further, and finally bring up in Arlington, twenty-four or twenty-five miles from Westminster. If no stop is to be made at Baltimore, and the rider determines to include this run and the next day's run in one twenty-four hours, he should take the right fork here, and follow the road marked like a barber's pole on the map. For many reasons, however, it is better to go on, because Baltimore is a good and comfortable place to put up at, especially if you go to the Carrolton; and should you be making the trip in quicker or longer stages than we have been doing, you should make it a point to reach Baltimore at night, instead of putting up at Westminster.

Proceeding then from Arlington along the railroad, the rider soon comes in to Druid Hill Park, and through or along the edge of this enters the city, where it is easy to make his way to the centre of the town and reach the Carrolton.

About New Zealand.

A girl's luncheon? You mean the school luncheon? Let it be as nice as possible, and take pains to pack it very neatly for her, so that when the recess hour comes she may take an interest in what she eats.

Of course the ideal luncheon for Gertrude and Caroline is something hot, a nice hash or scrambled eggs, or else a chop and a baked potato, with some gingerbread, stewed fruit, oranges, or a cup-custard after it. A cup of chocolate or cocoa is good for growing girls at luncheon, and a glass of milk is a very nice addition to their bill of fare.

But these beautiful hot luncheons cannot always be managed at school. Often the girls must carry their noonday meal from home, and as a general thing they take very little care about the matter themselves. Mamma or sister Mary must think for them.

A dainty box or little basket, a fine soft napkin, and some paraffin paper are indispensable to the preparation of lunches. Sandwiches must be made of thin bread and butter, with potted meat, cream cheese, or jam spread between the slices. Rough edges and crusts must be cut off, and the bread and butter be of the very best. There are many delicious crackers, some salted, some sprinkled with cheese-flakes, some sweet and crisp like cookies, which are appetizing with one's luncheon. And fruit is always in order.

If it is possible, and it usually is, to get a little boiling water, let the school-girl make for herself a cup of bouillon at luncheon. There are several excellent kinds of bouillon which come in small jars and bottles, and of which a spoonful added to a glass or cup of either hot or cold water makes a very refreshing drink. I prefer hot bouillon myself, but cold bouillon is very refreshing too, and much better with bread and butter than cold water, if the luncheon is a simple affair of that.

A girl who eats her luncheon regularly, and avoids sweets, pastry, and candy between meals, will have bright eyes and a good complexion. She will not look sallow and pasty, nor have pimples and other signs of indigestion on her face.

Suppose a young girl wishes to give a luncheon to a few friends, what would be a nice menu? Well, she might begin with oranges or grape-fruit, cut in two and sprinkled with sugar; these are eaten with a rather sharp-pointed spoon. This might be followed by oysters on the half-shell, in a little bed of crushed ice, if the luncheon is to be elaborate. Then comes bouillon, served in pretty cups; there are covered cups for bouillon which are simply fascinating to the heart of the china-loving girl. After this course comes minced fish or scolloped oysters, in little china or silver shells. Follow this with dainty chops, Saratoga chips, and green pease. Then have a salad, with thin wafers or salted crackers, cream cheese, and guava jelly or gooseberry jam. After this may appear dessert, of charlotte-russe or ice-cream, or frozen pudding, or, if you please, a hot pudding with cold sauce. Have salted almonds and olives on the table, to pass between the courses, and finish everything up with bonbons, cream peppermints, or any pretty candies or confections which you like.

Of course this is the way to have a formal luncheon. I know a little girl; her name is Delsie, and she isn't very tall, but I wouldn't ask a better luncheon than she gave me one day, and she did everything about it herself. She had beautiful wheat cakes with maple syrup, and she baked them brown on the griddle like a fairy, and then she gave me the most beautiful heaping saucerful of popped corn, white and salted and buttered. I wish I had some of it now.

A Suggestion for the Founders.

ADVERTISEMENTS.

The

Columbia

Bicycle

Pad Calendar

For 1896

YOU NEED IT.

A Desk Calendar is a necessity—most convenient kind of storehouse for memoranda. The Columbia Desk Calendar is brightest and handsomest of all—full of dainty pen sketches and entertaining thoughts on outdoor exercise and sport. Occasionally reminds you of the superb quality of Columbia Bicycles and of your need of one. You won't object to that, of course. The Calendar will be mailed for five 2-cent stamps.

Address Calendar Department,

POPE MANUFACTURING CO.,

HARTFORD, CONN.

WALTER BAKER & CO., limited.

Established Dorchester, Mass., 1780.

Breakfast Cocoa

Always ask for Walter Baker & Co.'s

Breakfast Cocoa

Made at

DORCHESTER, MASS.

Postage Stamps, &c.

I SEND OUT

approval sheets of U. S. adhesive, envelopes, revenues, at from 10% to 25% discount; Foreign at 25%. No trash, no 50% sheets, and no stamps marked over catalogue so as to give big discounts. If you want to BUY, write me; must have reference. New catalogue, just issued, 50c.

FRANK P. BROWN,

235 Washington Street, Boston, Mass.

JAPANESE POSTAGE STAMPS.

Every one who sends me 100 good stamps of his land will receive 100 stamps, in 20 varieties, from Japan.

K. TODA,

BINGO MITSUNOSHO — JAPAN.

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

STAMP COLLECTORS!

12 South America, 9c.; 15 Mexico and Central America, 10c.; 18 West Indian, 10c.; 15 Australia, 11c.; 16 Asia, 10c. Large monthly price-list free. Approval Sheet agents wanted; 50% com. and prizes given. C. W. Grevning, Morristown, N. J.

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

FOREIGN STAMPS ON APPROVAL.

500

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

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

STAMPS! 100 all dif. Barbados, etc. Only 10c. Ag'ts w't'd at 50% com. List free. L. DOVER & CO., 1469 Hodiamont, St. Louis, Mo.

CAMERA CLUB COMPETITION.

JUNIOR PRIZE-WINNERS.

MARINES.

Second Prize, $10; Lady Bessie Turner, 16 Sunnyside Avenue, Weehawken Heights, N J.

LANDSCAPES.

Second Prize, $10; Sir Knight Samuel J. Castner, 3729 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia, Pa.

FIGURE STUDIES.

Second Prize, $10; Sir Knight Luke S. Murdock, Point View, Pine Hill, Cincinnati, O.

COMPETITION OPEN TO ALL AMATEURS.

LANDSCAPES.

FIGURE STUDIES.

First Prize, $25; H. E. Murdock, Patron, 204 Bank of Commerce Building, Minneapolis, Minn.

Second Prize, $10; Mrs. Nils Holm, Patron, 710 S. Farwell Street, Eau Claire, Wis.

HONORABLE MENTION—JUNIORS.

MARINES.

W. C. Davids, Rutherford, N. J., Frederick Clapp, Boston, Mass., Octave de Maurice, Middletown, Conn., Kenneth M. Towner, Asbury Park, N. J., Albert B. Russell, Ilion, N. Y., Andrew Phillips, Nunda, N. Y., Paul Warren, Wauwautosa, Wis., Mary P. Kelsey, Chestnut Hill, Philadelphia, Pa., Susy Brown, Keyport, N. J., John W. Horr, Worcester, Mass., Samuel J. Castner, Philadelphia, Pa.

LANDSCAPES.

Emory J. Wendell, Albany, N. Y., Edmund C. Stone, Baird, Cal., W. H. Tobey, Washington, Kan., Ike Baum, Uniontown, Pa., Valverd Toof, St. Paul, Minn., May F. Barrett, Bloomfield, N. J., Stanley M. Dolan, Portland, Ore., Robert Woodward, Montclair, N. J., Albert Russell, Ilion, N. Y., J. A. Sinclair, Beamsville, Ont., Walter C. Bradley, Philadelphia, Penn., Roland C. Meisenbach, St. Louis, Mo., James G. Zimmerman, Milwaukee, Wis., Homer E. Bartlett, North Adams, Mass., Harry Bender, Allegheny, Pa., Edith Van Allen, Worcester, Mass., Fleurette Raplan, Cincinnati, O., H. P. Randall, Pasadena, Cal., Douglas Vandyke, Milwaukee, Wis., Paul G. Warren, Wauwautosa, Wis.

FIGURE STUDIES.

Roland Meisenbach, St. Louis, Mo., S. J. Castner, Philadelphia, Pa., Andrew Phillips, Nunda, N. Y., Edmund C. Stone, Baird, Cal., Constance F. Wheeler, New York City, James A. Sinclair, Beamsville, Ont., Luke Murdock, Cincinnati, O.

HONORABLE MENTION—SENIORS.

LANDSCAPES.

Norman J. Smith, Bellville, N. J., Virginia Wells, Parkersburg, W. Va., Wilbur F. Powers, Evanston, Ill., Harriet L. George, Thomaston, Me., Mrs. Ellen E. Stevenson, Chicago, Ill., M. Alison Martin, Toledo, O., Frank R. Gilbert, Chester, Pa., Norman J. Smith, New York City, Max H. Miner, Ithaca, N. Y., G. L. Blodgett, Cooperstown, N.Y., Louis H. Flanders, Chicago, Ill., Mary A. Dougall, Newark, N. J., Chester A. Darling, New York City, Jane Farnham Miller, Washington, D.C., Cora Blakeslee, Sparta, Wis., Harry Drinker, Scranton, Pa., William H. Brown, Greenville, E. Tenn., Frances H. Badeau, Washington, D.C., A. E. Pearson, Holyoke, Mass., Lee Stillman, Red Hook, N. Y., Mrs. Geo. Conn, Black Diamond, Wash., Warfield T. Longcope, Baltimore, Md., F. Elton Morse, Lyon, Mass., Newell W. Edson, Portland, Me., Frank Roe, Batchelder, Worcester, Mass., Herbert B. Shallenberger, Rochester, Pa., George H. Small, Everett, Mass., Arthur E. Mooney, St. Louis, Mo., Fred. E. Turner, Willimantic, Conn., Mrs. Claud Gatch, Salem, Ore., Francis E. Blake, Ithaca, N. Y., W. S. Thomas, Detroit, Mich., H. J. Sutton, Philadelphia, Penn., E. D. Bull, Spartansburg, S. C., Mrs. A. O. Keplan, Cincinnati, O., E. M. Bixby, San Francisco, Cal., Miss Hattie Howard, Washington, D.C., H. L. Willoughby, Newport, R. I., Miss Annie E. Hartwell, Framingham, Mass., William H. Frink, Greenfield, Mass., Howard W. Page, Minneapolis, Minn.

FIGURE STUDIES.

H. E. Murdock, Minneapolis, Minn.: A Daughter of the Nile, See the Conquering Hero, Five I Cast Away, Day Dreams. Mrs. Nils Holm, Eau Claire, Wis.: A Descendant of the Vikings, Give Me a Bite? A Careless Boy, Mistress Mischief, Multiplication is Vexation, A Portrait. Mrs. Helen E. Stevenson, Chicago, Ill.: A Little Round Table Artist, Sleep with Fairy Fingers. C. J. McLain, Fort Wayne, Ind.: A Little Bather. Miss Helen Owen, Okalona, Miss.: A Sliver. Horace William Dresser, Brooklyn, N. Y.: In Fairyland. George B. Phillips, Milwaukee, Wis.: Study of a Child. Miss Marian Otter, Doyleston, Pa.: Girl Reading. Hubert E. Hoge, Brooklyn, N. Y.: The Freedman. Kate Matthews, Pewee Valley, Ky.: Study of a Child, A Reverie. Jennie E. Smith, Iowa Falls, Ia.: Story of Three Little Pigs, Modern Wood-Nymph. W. E. Dickinson, Bradford, Ia.: How is That for High? Chas. H. Voorhees, New York City: In a New England Lane. Arthur E. Mooney, St, Louis, Mo.: Want Me to Read You a Story? Under the Old Apple-Tree. A. E. Pearson, Holyoke, Mass.: Ironing Day. Bertha Lothrop, Riverton, N. J.: Three Scamps, Dolly and Me. Capt. Berkeley Macaulay, U. S. A., Fort Apache, Ari.: Drop it, Tenderfoot. Theodore H. Hugo, Bridgeport, Conn.: Chores. Willis F. Lee, Brooklyn, Pa.: Tired Hands. W. J. Browning, Salt Lake City: Future Defenders of the Cup. Dorothy Roys, New York City: Berkshire Blackberries. W. C. Davis. Lieut. of Artillery, Fortress Monroe, Va.: A Youthful Granger. S. Roy Baker: Figure Studies.

ANIMAL STUDIES.

Louis H. Flanders, 512 Fullerton Avenue, Chicago, Ill.: Head of Jersey Cow. Orville Bassett, New Bedford, Mass.: Good Friends. Hubert Hoge, B.H.S., Brooklyn, N. Y.: Fallen Majesty. Louis Flanders, Chicago, Ill.: Waiting for the Master. Bertha Lothrop, Riverton, N. J.: Playmates. Franklin H. Conant, Providence, R. I.: Study of a Cat. W. Yost, Cumberland, Md.: Study of a Cat. Lieut. W. C. Davis, U.S.A., Fortress Monroe, Va.: A Fifteen-dollar Horse. Mrs. Claud Gatch, Salem, Ore.: A Good Square Meal.

SPECIAL SUBJECTS.

C. H. Voorhees, New York City: Lightning. Edward H. Murray, Watertown, N. Y.: Cows at Water's Edge. Newell W. Edson, Portland, Me.: Sunset Effect (Day is Dying in the West). Mrs. Geo. Conn, Black Diamond, Wash.: Snow Scene. Warfield T. Longcope, Baltimore, Md.: Moonlight. Arthur E. Mooney, St. Louis, Mo.: Above the House-tops (Cloud Effect).

In the Camera Club column of No. 844 (December 31st), in "Answers to Queries," a formula for a developing solution is given to Sir Knight Milton Pease. There is a mistake in Solution No. 1. It reads, "Add enough water to make the solution up to 8 oz." It should be, "Add enough water to make the solution up to 16 oz."

A Picture in a Word.

What is It?

A bold headland on the coast of Spain, the headquarters of a band of Moorish robbers; fishermen's boats, merchants' vessels, ships of war sailing stealthily by in the darkness with muffled oars, or crowding all sail in a fair wind to escape, if possible, the extortions of the gang of pirates who exacted tribute from every passing vessel.

That Virgil Query.

Prizes for Funny Verses.

We offered five packets of fifty engraved visiting-cards bearing the winners' names, with copper plate for future use, to the five who sent us that number of ridiculous funny verses—the funnier the better. Here are the best five we received, with names of their authors:

Yankee Doodle had a cat,
Its tail was double-jointed;
He took it to the dentist shop,
And had its molars pointed.

Samuel Byers.
Philadelphia.

He received a prospectus of the Round Table—
Harper's,
And tried to read
The names of the Knights on the table of King
Arthur;
And now his need
Is the man who can fix his jaw—the Doctor.

Charles Frederic Hoffmann.
New York.

A young man from old Honolulu
Met up with a terrible Zulu,
The Zulu's warm smile stretched forth nigh a mile,
And the young man was turned into tulu.

Ned A. Higgins.
Galena, Ill.

Said the Bishop to the Abbot,
I'd give a five-pound note
To see that ballet-dancer
Get the tip-top vote.

When the dancer got the vote
And the five-pound note,
Then the Bishop to the Abbot said,
I'm sorry that I spoke.

John B. Cautley.
Woburn Sands, Bletchley, England.

JUVENILE LOGIC.

"Pa, did Juno Juno?"
Asked curious little Ned.
"No, I didn't know Juno,"
His startled father said.
"But, pa, Juno was No-ju,
That you surely know.
And then if Juno No-ju,
Why didn't Juno Juno?"

Upton E. Sinclair, Jun.
New York.

Questions and Answers.

Frank Cope asks us to name an arithmetic well adapted to the needs of one who is compelled to study without an instructor. Good ones, for elementary study, are Fish's No. 1, 30 cents, and Fish's No. 2, 60 cents, to be had from the American Book Company, Chicago; or, if an advanced book is wanted, Harper's Advanced Arithmetic, $1.20, Harper & Brothers, New York. Are you interested in plants and flowers? M. S. Newman, 111 Avenue B, New York, wants to hear from you if you are. Wyatt and Peyser, 82 Lexington Avenue, New York, publishers of The Comet, a clever amateur paper, want literary contributions from amateurs.

The Whittier Library Chapter, A. L. Kuhn, 615 Ninth Street, Milwaukee, Wis., seeks members, both those residing in and out of Milwaukee. Address as above. It is a delightful Chapter to belong to. A Lady asks how to get ready for a "Looking Backward" dance. Can anyone tell her? Paul H. Knoelk, 627 Greenfield Avenue, Milwaukee, Wis., wants to form a literary Chapter, with corresponding members. He or any others may write to Arthur J. Johnston, Box 136, Dartmouth, N. S. The latter wants to join a corresponding Chapter, which, we may inform a third, a Lady who asks, is an organization kept together by correspondence, its members living in many States. The best combination is, we think, a Chapter having both local and absent members. We shall be glad to hear of the progress of the Lancelot Chapter, of Newtonville, Mass. Maximo Gomez is commander-in-chief of the Cuban forces. He has no naval force, and a land force variously estimated at from 25,000 to 50,000 men, the number being constantly added to. Jno. Pohland, Ahnapee, Wis., will send sketches to any amateur paper that applies to him for them. He wants samples.

The letter issued by the American S. S. S. S., addressed to those countries using "Seebeek" stamps, has already produced fruit. The President of Ecuador has issued a decree cancelling the contract for the supply of these stamps, on the ground "that it is unworthy of the dignity of Ecuador" to continue such an arrangement.

As enterprising firm in St. Louis has begun the issue of a daily stamp paper, edited by "The Office Cat," price $3 per year, but the publishers reserve the right of discontinuing the paper and refunding subscriptions at any time the "Office Cat" gets tired. Although begun in fun, the editor has issued several numbers, and it looks as if the paper would be a success. Great is philately and many are its devotees. The time may come when a daily stamp paper will be issued in all the philatelic centres, both morning and evening editions.

Stories of great "finds" are current. Ever since the Louisville discovery of 137 St. Louis stamps, which the lucky finders (two porters) sold for over $30,000, the attention of stamp-collectors all over the Union has been directed to unearthing old correspondence. The South has been a little backward so far, and yet there is no doubt that large numbers of the rarer Confederate "locals" are still in existence. To aid the Round Table readers to identify these stamps, I shall give reduced illustrations next week of some or all of the stamps. A complete list of the fourteen stamps issued by the general government of the Confederate States, together with illustrations of the same, and their comparative scarcity, will be found in the Round Table dated December 10, 1895.

An experienced laundress will tell you that shirts never look as white as when washed with Ivory Soap.

The Procter & Gamble Co., Cin'ti.

MONARCH

KING OF BICYCLES

Beloved by his subjects because he does right by them. There's goodness and merit in every inch of his kingly fame.

4 models. $80 and $100, fully guaranteed. For children and adults who want a lower price wheel the Defiance is made in 8 models, $40 to $75.

Monarch Cycle Mfg. Co.

Lake, Halsted and Fulton Sts., CHICAGO.

88 Reade St., NEW YORK.

BREAKFAST—SUPPER.

EPPS'S

GRATEFUL—COMFORTING.

COCOA

BOILING WATER OR MILK.

PRINTING OUTFIT 10c.

Sets any name in one minute; prints 500 cards an hour. YOU can make money with it. A font of pretty type, also Indelible Ink, Type, Holder, Pads and Tweezers. Best Linen Market; worth $1.00. Sample mailed FREE for 10c. stamps for postage on outfit and large catalogue of 1000 Bargains. Same outfit with figures 15c. Larger outfit for printing two lines 25c. post-paid. Ingersoll & Bro. 65 Cortlandt St., N. Y. City

CARDS

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

UNION CARD CO., COLUMBUS, OHIO

CARDS

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

HAVE YOU THESE BOOKS?

"Harper's Round Table" for 1895

Volume XVI. With 1096 Pages, and about 750 Illustrations. 4to, Cloth, Ornamental, $3.50.

By Kirk Munroe

Snow-Shoes and Sledges. A Sequel to "The Fur-Seal's Tooth." Illustrated. Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25.

BY THE SAME AUTHOR:

The Fur-Seal's Tooth.—Raftmates.—Canoemates.—Campmates.—Dorymates. Each one volume. Illustrated. Post 8vo, Cloth, $1.25 each.

Wakulla.—The Flamingo Feather.—Derrick Sterling.—Chrystal, Jack & Co., and Delta Bixby. Illustrated. Square 16mo. Cloth, $1.00 each.

HARPER & BROTHERS, Publishers, New York.

THE CHASE OF THE BONNET BIRD.

"Oh what is the use," said the Fays from the Moon,
"Of spending the whole of an afternoon
In fishing for fish,
To serve on a dish,
When you can go birding for birds like that,
With feathers upon it
Just right for a bonnet,
Or theatre hat?

"All fishes are cheap—
E'en those from the deep—
But bonnets come high!
That's why
'Stead of fishing for fish,
To serve on a dish,
We are birding instead
For that bird with the wonderful feathery head."

ALWAYS READY TO TELL.

"You'll make a good one," put in Sallie, scornfully, "you're such a tattle-tale."

A POOR RULE THAT WON'T WORK BOTH WAYS.

"Don't you know, Clement," said Clement's mother, "that candy is very bad for your teeth?"

"No, ma'am," replied Clement. "I know that my teeth were bad for the candy, though."

I'm very fond of pa,
I dearly love my ma;
But when it comes to making pie,
The cook, I think, just takes my eye.

EARLY-MORNING PERSIFLAGE.

"If you are not up in five minutes I'll come up after you," returned his father.

A LITTLE MIXED.

"She?" retorted Hal. "She ain't a she—she's a he. That boat's a man-of-war."

A COASTER'S CONCLUSION.

The down-hill glide takes my breath away,
As over the snow I pop;
And that is why, I suppose, I pant
When plodding up to the top.

A REASONABLE DEMAND.

"See here, papa," said Willie, "do you remember how badly you felt because I sent you a comic valentine last year?"

"Well, if you want a nice one this year you'll have to double my allowance. I can't afford more 'n a cent on five cents a week."

NOT WHAT IT WAS CRACKED UP TO BE.

The tumblerful of cracked ice had melted, and little Mabel was peering curiously into the water that was left.

"Zat's verwy funny," she said. "Zat ice was all cwacked, an', now it's melted, ze cwacks is all gone."

THE SNOW MAN CRACKS A JOKE.

JOEY'S PLAN.

This poor little darky he wished to be white.
That was all that he wished for—heigho!
And he washed his brown face both day and night
With snow—
Poor Joe!
"Yo' face gits all soapy 'f yo' wash it wiv soap,
And dat is de reason, kind sir, dat I hope
In usin' dis snow 'twill git snowy,"
Said Joey.
Heigho!

FOOTNOTES:

[1] The writer had this incident from one who was present on the occasion.

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HARPER'S ROUND TABLE, JANUARY 21, 1896 ***

Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will be renamed.

Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution.

START: FULL LICENSE

PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK

To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at www.gutenberg.org/license.

Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works

1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.

1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.

1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the United States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when you share it without charge with others.

1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any country other than the United States.

1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:

1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied or distributed:

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.

1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.

1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™.

1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg™ License.

1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website (www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.

1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works provided that:

• You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.”
• You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ works.
• You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work.
• You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works.

1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.

1.F.

1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.

1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE.

1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem.

1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.

1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.

1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any Defect you cause.

Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™

Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life.

Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org.

Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit 501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws.

The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact

Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation

Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations ($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt status with the IRS.

The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate.

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who approach us with offers to donate.

International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.

Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate.

Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works

Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.

Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.

Most people start at our website which has the main PG search facility: www.gutenberg.org.

This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.

published weekly.	NEW YORK, TUESDAY, JANUARY 21, 1896.	five cents a copy.
vol. xvii.—no. 847.		two dollars a year.