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Produced by Annie R. McGuire | |
[Illustration: HARPER'S ROUND TABLE] | |
Copyright, 1896, by HARPER & BROTHERS. All Rights Reserved. | |
* * * * * | |
PUBLISHED WEEKLY. NEW YORK, TUESDAY, MAY 19, 1896. FIVE CENTS A COPY. | |
VOL. XVII.--NO. 864. TWO DOLLARS A YEAR. | |
* * * * * | |
[Illustration] | |
JACK HOWARD'S SURPRISE PARTY. | |
It was the critical moment in the famous sham battle of Easter Monday. | |
The bicycle corps was a mile and a half away, and the signal post had | |
been captured by the enemy. Unless the corps could be brought into the | |
action the day was lost, and the wood road running back of the | |
"Cardinal's Nob" offered the only possible means of communication. But | |
could the message be conveyed in time? Colonel Howard turned to his son | |
Jack, who stood anxious and silent at the front handle-bars of the | |
Arrow, a modern racing quad, geared to 120, and stripped down to the | |
enamel. The inspection seemed to satisfy him, and hastily scribbling a | |
few lines on a page torn from his note-book, he handed the order to his | |
son. | |
"Get this through if you possibly can," he said, briefly, and turned | |
again to his field-glasses. | |
A moment later and Jack and his crew were carrying the Arrow down the | |
steep sides of the "Nob" to the wood road that ran below. The road was | |
in splendid condition, hard and smooth as a racing-track, and the boys | |
were all picked riders, and bound to hold on to their grips until the | |
tires began to smoke. | |
"It will be a scorch, fellows," said Jack, as he swung himself into his | |
saddle; "but let her run off easily until we can get to pedalling all | |
together. Now, then, hit her up!" | |
The Arrow jumped forward like a hare as the long chain tightened and the | |
riders bent over to their work. It took Jem Smith, No. 2, a moment | |
longer to find his left pedal, and then the eight legs began to go up | |
and down with the mechanical regularity of so many piston-rods. Once | |
fairly into the long rhythmical swing, every ounce of power told, and | |
the tense spokes hummed merrily as the speed increased and the road-bed | |
slipped away beneath the rapidly revolving wheels. Jack Howard had his | |
cap drawn well down over his eyes, and his hands were tightly clinched | |
on the front handle-bars. So long as the way was smooth and the crew | |
were pumping in strict time the Arrow steered with the certainty and | |
quickness of a racing sloop; but every now and then a shallow rut or a | |
half-hidden stone would cause the long machine to swerve like a flying | |
horse, and it would take all of Jack's strength, even with the | |
assistance of No. 2, whose handle-bars were coupled to the steering | |
head, to keep the Arrow steady on her course. Above all, it was | |
necessary that every rider should pay strict attention to the business | |
in hand, or rather under foot. Uneven pedalling meant lost power and | |
hard steering, while a slipped pedal might result in an ugly fall and a | |
general smash-up. | |
Three-quarters of a mile from the "Nob" there was a gate across the | |
road, with the approach on a curve that was also slightly down-grade. As | |
was only prudent, speed was reduced, and the Arrow rounded the turn well | |
under control. Luckily so, for the gate was closed. This was rather odd, | |
for the bicycle corps had passed over the road only an hour before, and | |
it had been understood that they should leave the gate open. The loss of | |
time was vexatious, but there was nothing to do but to stop. The Arrow | |
ran slowly up to the obstruction, and Jack called to Dick Long, the end | |
man, to jump off and swing the gate aside. | |
"Hands up!" came with startling distinctness from the high, thickly | |
wooded <DW72> that bordered the road on either side, and Jack looked up | |
straight into the barrel of a regulation army carbine that for the | |
moment yawned as wide as the muzzle of a hundred-ton gun. It was the | |
enemy, sure enough, a sergeant with a dozen men, and the Arrow had | |
walked straight into the trap. Resistance was as impossible as it was | |
hopeless, for the boys had strapped their carbines securely to the | |
framing of the quad, and the surprise had been complete. | |
"You're captured," said the umpire, who had accompanied the ambuscade. | |
"Hand over your despatches to the sergeant and stand at attention." | |
It was a dreadfully mortifying situation for the boys, but their captors | |
were inclined to be magnanimous. | |
"It's not your fault, Jack," chuckled the jolly sergeant, as he took the | |
precious despatch; "it was just a little game of strategy in which we | |
happened to hold the high cards." | |
After all, it had been a desperate chance, and Jack was philosopher | |
enough to abide by the result. And besides that he had faith enough in | |
his father to feel assured that he would pull through somehow, and that | |
his confidence was not misplaced those who have read "The Battle of | |
Easter Monday" will remember. | |
The umpire hurried away for the actual field of battle, and the sergeant | |
and his party took up their post again at the gate. It was stupid work | |
playing prisoner, and Jack hinted as much to the sergeant. If they | |
couldn't see the battle it was a pity to lose such a fine afternoon for | |
a ride, and it was not likely that they would be able to borrow the quad | |
again. | |
"Well," said the sergeant, good-naturedly, "I don't know that I have any | |
right to do it, but I'll release you on parole, with the understanding | |
that you go in the opposite direction from the battle-field, and that | |
you report at the armory this evening and turn in your rifles and | |
cartridge-belts." | |
The terms were too easy not to be accepted, and though the boys were | |
naturally disappointed in not being able to see or take part in the | |
fight, it was something in the way of consolation to have a twenty-mile | |
spin on the Arrow. | |
"Let's go to Queenston," suggested Jem Smith, as the Arrow rolled slowly | |
back along the wood road. | |
It was a good fifteen miles away to the old college town, but the roads | |
were unusually good for so early in the year, and the scenery was more | |
than enough to make up for the steepness of the hills. | |
"And take luncheon at Rock Hill," added Jack. "Is it a vote?" and no one | |
dissenting, it was so ordered. | |
It was a glorious afternoon for a spin, and the boys enjoyed the novel | |
experience of four-in-hand riding. But since the Arrow was geared up for | |
racing on a level track, it was hard work hill-climbing, and nobody was | |
sorry to see in the distance the gray towers of Queenston. A mile away | |
from town and Jack called a halt. The stretch of road immediately before | |
them had been broken up preparatory to macadamizing, and it was clearly | |
unrideable. Nobody liked the idea of trundling the long machine into | |
town; but, on the other hand, they had set out for a run to Queenston, | |
and it would not do to give up within sight of port. And, moreover, | |
through the town lay the shortest road back to Fairacre. | |
"What's that road?" asked Dick Long, pointing to a carriage drive that | |
entered the woods at right angles to the highway. | |
Jack's eyes brightened. "I remember it now," he said. "It's a private | |
road that runs back of the college and brings us out on University | |
Square. There can't be any objection to our using it." | |
There was a locked gate to prevent intrusion, but the Arrow was quickly | |
hoisted over the fence, and Jack and his crew were in the saddle again. | |
It was evident that the road had not been used for a long time, for it | |
was overgrown with grass, and the old wheel-tracks were hardly | |
discernible. But it was fair riding, for the turf was thick and firm, | |
and as it was early in the spring, it had only just begun to grow. Half | |
a mile in and the Arrow was running swiftly and noiselessly through the | |
thickest part of the college wood. The university buildings were but a | |
quarter of a mile or so away, but it was only occasionally that they | |
showed through the leafless trunks of the great oaks and chestnuts. Here | |
and there a chipmunk scuttled away through the dry rustling leaves, and | |
once an early robin piped up with an original spring poem. The silence | |
and stillness seemed almost primeval; it might have been the first | |
Sunday morning after the creation of the world; a laugh or an idle word | |
would have broken the spell. And then-- | |
"Hold hard!" came in a tense whisper from Jack, and his crew | |
mechanically bore back on their pedals. The Arrow had stopped at the | |
brow of a gentle declivity that widened out at the bottom into a little | |
glade, which was now the scene of a drama that looked perilously like a | |
tragedy to the startled eyes of the new-comers. In the middle of the | |
open space stood a rude structure of rough stones some three feet high | |
and six long, and upon it was stretched the figure of a man bound and | |
gagged. At a little distance were grouped a dozen masked forms armed | |
with odd-looking axes, and listening attentively to an incomprehensible | |
harangue on the part of the one who appeared to be their leader. | |
The boys looked at each other with white faces. Ku-Klux? White Caps? It | |
was possible. Whatever it was, it looked ugly enough in all conscience. | |
Jack Howard began to unstrap his carbine from the framework of the | |
Arrow. | |
"Our cartridges are all blanks," whispered Dick Long, hurriedly. | |
"I know it," returned Jack, fumbling with nervous haste at the mechanism | |
of the breech-block, "but I'm not going to stand here and see murder | |
done." | |
"But what can we do?" | |
"See that your magazines are full, be ready to ride the Arrow so as to | |
get that stone pile between us and the crowd, and, above all, let nobody | |
fire until I give the word. It's twelve to four, and the only chance is | |
to bluff them." | |
It seemed like a dream to stand there waiting for the moment of action, | |
the motionless figure stretched upon the stones, the sunlight flickering | |
upon the grim-looking axes of the twelve masked men, the monotonous, | |
unintelligible drone of the speaker. And yet there was a something in | |
the picture that made it terribly alive, for all that this was the year | |
of Our Lord 1896, and the bells in the college chapel were even now | |
ringing the call for evening prayers. | |
Jack and his crew were sitting motionless in their saddles, Dick Long, | |
the rear man, standing ready to give the necessary shove-off. | |
The speaker had stopped talking, and had taken his stand at the head of | |
the line of masked men. In his hands he held an antique-looking urn, and | |
at a signal the others advanced one by one. As the first man passed he | |
dropped into the urn a small object that looked like a bean. But there | |
could be no mistake about the color--it was black. Another followed, and | |
then another, until all had passed and cast their vote, if vote it was. | |
The chief solemnly emptied the contents of the urn upon the ground. | |
Every bean was black. | |
The leader drew from beneath his cloak a long, glittering, | |
crescent-shaped knife, and held it high above his head. | |
"Your sentence, then"--he looked inquiringly at the immovable silent | |
figures that stood about him in a circle. | |
"Death!" came in muffled tones from the first mask, and "Death!" echoed | |
the next, and the next, until all had spoken. | |
The circle parted, and the executioner moved slowly towards the altar | |
and the victim. | |
"Now!" shouted Jack, and the Arrow flashed down the <DW72> as though sped | |
from some gigantic bowstring. In an instant the boys had dismounted, and | |
were kneeling under cover of the stone-work with their rifles at their | |
shoulders. There was a moment of surprise and confusion among the masked | |
figures, and the man with the knife pulled up sharply. | |
Jack snatched off his cap and tossed it into the air. It fell some | |
twenty feet away, an improvised dead-line between the two parties. | |
"Keep back of that or we fire," he said, tersely. | |
The line of masked men wavered for an instant, and then the leader held | |
up his hand and stepped forward. | |
"This doesn't concern you," he said, quietly. | |
"Maybe not," retorted Jack, "but we are going to make it our business. | |
Keep back!" and he raised his rifle. | |
The masked man made an impatient gesture. "I tell you again," he said, | |
coldly, "that this is no affair of yours. You had better take my advice, | |
and hop the twig as fast as you can." | |
"And suppose we don't choose to profit by your friendly warning," | |
returned Jack, jauntily. "What then?" | |
One of the masked figures stepped up to the leader, and whispered | |
something in his ear. The chief nodded affirmatively, and turned again | |
to Jack. | |
"We know well enough where you came from," he said, confidently, "and | |
you can't bluff us with blank cartridges." | |
There was an involuntary movement of surprised consternation among the | |
boys, which the masked man was quick to perceive and take advantage of. | |
"This isn't any sham battle," he continued, with a sneer. "I'll give you | |
while I count ten to clear out. One, two--" | |
Jack turned hurriedly to the boys. "Remember, now, hold your fire, no | |
matter what I do." | |
"Eight, nine, ten. Come on, you fellows!" and the man in the mask threw | |
down his knife and jumped for Jack. There was a sharp report, and the | |
leader stopped short, staggered, and fell. | |
It was all over in an instant. The masked figures had scattered in all | |
directions, and Jack was cutting the cords that bound the prisoner. And | |
by all that was wonderful, if it wasn't Tom Jones, a Fairacre boy, and a | |
member of the Sophomore Class at Queenston College. The boys stared at | |
him, open-mouthed. | |
"Take out the gag; he's trying to speak," said Dick Long, excitedly. | |
The gag was quickly removed, and Tom sprang to his feet. | |
"Well, you are a fine set of blooming wooden-heads," said Mr. Jones, | |
reproachfully. | |
The boys looked at him in astonishment. Under the peculiar circumstances | |
the remark savored of ingratitude, to say the least. | |
"Perhaps you would have preferred that we had not interfered," said Jem | |
Smith, with sarcastic politeness. | |
"I wish to goodness you hadn't," was the disconcerting reply. "Well, old | |
man, are you much hurt?" Tom Jones had hurried to where the wounded man | |
was lying propped up against a tree, and was bending over him with | |
anxious solicitude. His mask had fallen off, and his face looked | |
familiar enough, though nobody could place him exactly. | |
"See here, Jones," said Jack Howard, with a desperate effort to shake | |
off the growing conviction that the whole affair was nothing more than | |
an ugly dream, "what does all this mean, anyhow? Haven't we just pulled | |
you out of a pretty tight place--saved your life, I mean?" | |
"No, you haven't," answered Tom, snappishly. | |
"You've gone and interfered with my initiation into the Order of Ancient | |
and Royal Druids, the best secret society in the college, and you shot | |
in the leg the Captain of the university team, and the only decent | |
half-back we have this year. That's what you've done." | |
"Oh, my leg!" groaned the sufferer, feebly. "There's a hole bored clear | |
through it, and it's bleeding like one o'clock." | |
And then Mr. Jones, who had been examining the injured member, did a | |
very remarkable thing. He deliberately bestowed upon his wounded | |
superior a couple of hearty kicks, and then proceeded to assist him to | |
his feet. | |
"Get up, Phil, and don't make an ass of yourself. Here's the fatal | |
bullet that laid you low." He picked up something from the ground, and | |
showed it first to Captain Phil and then to Jack. The latter nodded, | |
took it, and stowed it away in his pocket. A few words in undertone | |
followed, and then the football Captain laughed and held out his hand to | |
Jack. | |
"I wish you fellows would come up to the college and have some tea," he | |
said, heartily. "Sure you haven't the time? Well, then, remember that | |
I'll expect you over for the first baseball game of the season next | |
Saturday--and your friends too." | |
"You're sure that you're all right again?" inquired Jack. | |
Captain Phil turned a handspring with remarkable agility, and came up | |
smiling, to the manifest astonishment of three or four of his late | |
companions in crime, who were cautiously making their way back to the | |
scene of battle, in the evident expectation of having to perform the | |
last sad offices for their late leader. | |
"Straight as a string and sound as a bell," announced Captain Phil, | |
cheerfully. "But just wait, young fellow, until you enter Fresh, in the | |
fall, and I can get a chance to tackle you on the twenty-yard line. That | |
ought to square things between us." | |
Jack laughed, and with another hearty shake of the Captain's hand, he | |
sprang into his saddle, and the Arrow was quickly speeding towards | |
Fairacre again. | |
"He ought to make a rattling quarter-back," said Captain Phil, | |
reflectively, to Tom Jones. "A fellow with his nerve is just the man we | |
want to fill Robinson's shoes." | |
And Jones nodded an oracular assent. | |
* * * * * | |
Half a mile down the pike, and Jem Smith's curiosity could no longer be | |
restrained. | |
"Well, if you must know," said Jack, finally, "here's the fatal bullet. | |
It just occurred to me to slip it in my rifle-barrel in the hope that it | |
might do some execution if it came to actual hostilities. Of course it | |
was only a bluff to make them think that your guns were really loaded | |
with ball cartridge, and it worked just that way. Of course, when it | |
broke against his leg, and he felt the ink running down--" | |
"What are you talking about?" said Jem, impatiently; "and what is this | |
little rubber cap, anyhow?" | |
"All that's left of a brand-new stylographic pen," answered Jack, | |
mournfully. | |
A MYSTERY. | |
BY CLARA LOUISE ANGEL. | |
I know of a dry little, sly little man | |
Who comes o'er our threshold whenever he can; | |
Though little, he cares for the sunshine and light; | |
He haunts our big library when it is night. | |
When papa is reading his paper with care, | |
And I'm dozing all snug in the cushioned arm-chair, | |
When mamma looks up from her sewing--"My dear, | |
Perhaps you don't know that the sand-man's been here." | |
Then I hunt round the curtain, on top of the books, | |
'Neath table and sofa, and all sorts of nooks, | |
And out on the stairway, and down in the hall; | |
But I can't find the sly little sand-man at all! | |
THE AMERICAN NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS. | |
THE M. S. D'S. | |
BY EMMA J. GRAY. | |
[Illustration] | |
"It fell upon a day in the balmy month of May" that the M. S. D's went | |
for an out-of-door frolic. | |
Who were the M. S. D's? Merry Sons and Daughters. The society had been | |
incorporated the year before; there were no dues, no president, | |
secretary, treasurer, or by-laws; there was but one qualification--being | |
merry. No long faces among the members of _that_ society; no boys or | |
girls who always want things done _their_ way. No, that style of person | |
was not eligible, nor selfish folks, or any other kind of disagreeable | |
people. | |
The M. S. D's were stanch, true-hearted, and sunny, their greatest joy | |
being forgetfulness of self. They were always merry because they were | |
always happy; and they were always happy because they trod evil | |
underfoot, and thought out great thoughts white and godlike, thoughts | |
that shone with the clear and steady light that reflected good-will on | |
all. | |
Therefore, when the society went for a day's fun it was the gayest of | |
roving, a complete El Dorado of enjoyment; and an outing in the | |
blithesome month of May to them meant a full and happy one. | |
For some reason the usual parties had been omitted this year, and | |
therefore none of the girls had been crowned Queen, and none of the boys | |
had paid their respects to the Court. | |
So when they reached the "happy independence grounds," as the boys | |
dubbed them, because everybody was to do as they pleased when they got | |
there, it was most amusing that each one seemed to have the same desire | |
to gather handfuls of blossoms, weave crowns, hunt for four-leaved | |
clover, and listen to bird calls. And thus it was that soon were | |
gathered blue violets from the meadow, and dandelions, buttercups, and | |
daisies from among the long waving grass that covered field after field | |
through which these Merry Sons and Daughters laughingly ran. | |
And then followed the butterfly hunt; just to see if anybody could | |
really catch one of these "ne'er-do-weel" fellows. But their fragile | |
painted wings carried them so safe and rapid that when a hand was almost | |
over the petal tip that held the happy fellow, he would up and away in | |
the breezy blue, and ride on graciously out of sight, or sometimes, as | |
through a desire to tempt his pursuer, skim over the clover blossoms, | |
and finally light again on a bunch of daffadown-dillies, or possibly | |
make a round of all the sweet May blossoms. | |
"What the Dandelions said" was then played, which is the old game so | |
familiar to all from babyhood--that of blowing the soft down of the | |
ripened dandelion to learn "How old am I?" Blow once, one year old; blow | |
twice, two years, and so on, until all the downy stuff has gone. The | |
number of times the blows have been given before the down has altogether | |
disappeared indicates the age. | |
And then the players ran at utmost speed to the babbling brook, which | |
was a short distance off; and having first torn the dandelion stems into | |
quarters by splitting the tubular stem from tip to flower, they laid | |
them in the cool flowing water, and watched them curl until all were | |
tightly rounded; then shaking off the gathered drops, they firmly | |
fastened these curls to their hats, together with the bunches of clover, | |
buttercups, violets, strawberry blossoms, or whatever else fanciful | |
taste dictated. | |
[Illustration] | |
This pastime was soon followed by the "Daisy Catch." Both girls and boys | |
stood in a group, with the exception of one girl, and to her was given a | |
bunch of daisies. There was also a tree selected as a place of safety, | |
after which the other girls then counted ten, allowing ten seconds for | |
the count. During the counting the girl ran wherever she pleased, but | |
the moment ten was spoken the boys raced after her. The idea was to | |
"tag" her while the flowers were in her hand. If she was "tagged," the | |
girl must then throw the daisies, as if they were a ball, to the boy | |
tagging her. If he caught them, the game would proceed as before, by | |
reversing the players; but if he did not catch them, the girl could try | |
over again. The girl could also demand another chance if, when fearing | |
she would be tagged, she threw her daisies away and caught them again | |
before any of the boys did. Whenever the game was repeated it commenced | |
regularly from the beginning, the players taking the same position as at | |
the start. On the way back from the brook everybody's attention was | |
drawn to a pair of yellow-birds that had braved the yet unsettled | |
atmosphere, and were building a very pretty home for themselves near the | |
top of a blackberry bush, when all of a sudden a cat-bird's song was | |
heard, and knowing that he was very shy, all breathlessly kept quiet. | |
And then how uneasy the little yellow-birds became! The young people | |
wondered what it all meant; but afterwards they saw both the | |
yellow-birds fly off for fern down or other soft stuff with which to | |
line their nest, and this disappearance was evidently what the cat-bird | |
desired, for no sooner had the birds gone than, quietly and cautiously, | |
and yet rapidly, as if seizing opportunity much after the manner of | |
other thieves, he approached and stole all the building materials he | |
could possibly carry from their pretty home. | |
This sight reminded the boys of a game called "Keep It." It was nothing | |
more nor less than an echo, and those who knew lightly closed each hand | |
so that the first two fingers touched the thumb. Then putting one hand | |
on top of the other, and calling through the column thus made, trumpet | |
fashion, the noise was greatly accelerated, and, "Keep it, keep it," | |
were the words over and over again repeated in the uncanny peculiar way | |
that echo repeats sound. The children then ran in various directions, | |
laughingly trying to get ahead of each other, and discover who could | |
make the clearest and loudest echo. | |
But the great feature of the day was the boat-race, and this was an | |
impromptu amusement, for the boys had planned the girls should botanize, | |
tell stories, or anything that they liked, while they went fishing; and | |
with fishing in mind the boys had many a secret conclave beforehand, as | |
each one was trying to get all the fishing points possible, and many and | |
various were the ones received, everybody agreeing, however, that all | |
the fishermen must understand both shoving and sculling a boat before | |
attempting to fish in that particular water, as it was winding, narrow, | |
and full of all sorts of rushes, meadow grasses, and snags in variety, | |
and if rowing was attempted, fishing would be impracticable. Then, too, | |
there should be a slight wind blowing from the southwest, and a cloudy | |
sky. So as fishing was the uppermost thought, the boys were sure the | |
weather would be right when they got there, and therefore came laden | |
with bait, tackle, and fishing-baskets in abundance, for they had | |
assured their mothers they would bring home a lot of shining fat fellows | |
for supper. A few, too, of the more skilled had refused to bring bait, | |
saying, with an important toss of the head, they only fished with flies; | |
and no sooner had the M. S. D's gotten to their destination than these | |
fishermen ran to the water to watch the sort and color of flies the fish | |
were mostly jumping for. | |
So it was a genuine disappointment when, at ten o'clock in the morning, | |
the sun shone unusually hot and the water was as smooth as a mirror, for | |
not even a perceptible zephyr was stirring. | |
Therefore it was that the girls begged the boys not to attempt fishing, | |
that it would be only a great waste of time, and to further quote their | |
words, "when it gets cooler, as it's bound to after a while, let's have | |
a boat-race"--for there was a clear space of water where such could be | |
held. | |
This was a happy suggestion, and immediately the race was arranged. The | |
girls who did not care to row were to act as umpires; and a grand stand | |
was selected, which was nothing more nor less than a massive irregular | |
rock over which a tangle of vines ran luxuriously, and for canopy there | |
was a wide-branched locust-tree. | |
[Illustration] | |
There would be three races--one between the girls, another between the | |
boys, and the third between the girls and boys together, and they were | |
to be given in the order indicated. Two willow-trees which conspicuously | |
over-hung the water, and so could not be mistaken, were selected as the | |
points that would start and end the race, the prow of the boat being | |
even with the centre of the tree-trunk at starting, and the stern of the | |
boat being even with the centre of the tree-trunk on closing. Only one | |
person would be in a boat at a time, and no person could have a second | |
chance. As the water was too narrow to allow for all the boys or all the | |
girls to try at once, it was decided that two boats only should row, and | |
then two more, and so on. After the race was over, the victors would be | |
obliged to row again, two and two, as at the first, and so determine the | |
winners. When the winning girl and the winning boy were known, they | |
would race together, and thus the champion rower would be discovered. | |
Whoever was champion was to be rewarded with a wreath of laurel, after | |
the fashion of the great Roman victors; laurel was not very plentiful in | |
this section, but the boys were confident that by a run of a mile or so | |
they could find some, and if they couldn't they would use oak leaves, | |
and tell the hero they were meant for laurel. In any case, the wreath | |
must be made and at the grand stand before the race opened; at this | |
stand, also, the coronation would take place. | |
Providing for the race led to the gathering of numberless flowers, with | |
which the boats were decorated, and later, as they sped over the water, | |
they seemed a part of a great picture--over and around them air and | |
clouds, exquisite colorings of matchless reds, yellows, violets, pinks, | |
and greens, soft reflections of the same in the water and the distance, | |
and, added to all, the ambition of the rowers and the contending | |
emotions of those who watched the pretty play. One boat was very simply | |
trimmed. It was carpeted with mosses and wreathed around with fern | |
leaves; another was so daintily decorated it seemed as if it was a fairy | |
boat; and yet another style was richly and gayly covered, as though it | |
was at the disposal of a grandly beautiful queen, and almost, | |
unconsciously we turned to look if Cleopatra was near. This boat was | |
canopied with apple blossoms; the branches were held in place between | |
the narrow strip of wood that forms the border of the lining and the | |
boat herself. But this boat was not among the winners; it was top-heavy, | |
and therefore too difficult to steer and row. The shades of night were | |
indeed fast falling when the M. S. D's reached home again. The sunburnt | |
faces, joyous laughter, and light-hearted confusion of voices told their | |
own story. | |
DOROTHY'S PROBLEM. | |
I've only a single quarter left | |
Of all my allowance, that looked so large | |
On last pay-day, when dear mamma | |
Said, "Now, you must neither borrow nor 'charge,' | |
But keep out of debt, and never forget | |
That dollars are made of single cents." | |
I'm sure I've tried, but it's very hard | |
To keep to the rule of your good intents. | |
There were creams and bonbons the other day, | |
And a box of paper, and, let me see, | |
A bunch of the dearest violets | |
Tucked into my jacket flap. Ah! me, | |
They faded and died, and I almost cried; | |
It seemed a shame with my funds so low; | |
But the wonderful thing is, do your best | |
To save, and still your money will go! | |
And where will my Christmas gifts come in? | |
Pray, what can I buy with this little bit | |
For papa and mamma and Fred and Nell? | |
Of course, I ought to have thought of it | |
A month ago, but I didn't, you know. | |
And here is my purse so flat and thin; | |
I'm just as discouraged as I can be, | |
For where will my Christmas gifts come in? | |
M. E. S. | |
AN "OLD-FIELD" SCHOOL-GIRL.[1] | |
[1] Begun in HARPER'S ROUND TABLE No. 857. | |
BY MARION HARLAND. | |
CHAPTER IX. | |
A note was brought to Mr. Grigsby at noon of the next day. It was from | |
Major Duncombe. | |
"MY DEAR MR. GRIGSBY,--As you did not come to my house last night, I | |
take it for granted that your <DW64> man did not deliver the message | |
sent to you by Mr. Tayloe, who met him on the road yesterday | |
evening. I write now to ask you to meet Mr. Tayloe and myself at | |
half past three o'clock to-day at the school-house, for the | |
discussion of important and confidential business. As the days are | |
short, may I suggest that you be punctual to the hour named? | |
"Yours truly, C. S. DUNCOMBE." | |
Mr. Grigsby had not seen the Major in his morning round of the | |
plantation, never omitted except in very stormy weather. He had made it | |
to-day with a clouded brow and heavy heart. Dick had affirmed upon his | |
knees, the tears bursting from his frightened eyes, that he had no idea | |
how "Miss F'lishy" got into the cart, or when, or where. He also | |
declared that he had not left the vehicle for a minute during the | |
journey. Flea was raving in delirium. The doctor, summoned at midnight, | |
said that she was on the verge of brain-fever. Except for the scratches | |
and the wetting, she had apparently sustained no external injury. Dee | |
was laid up with a violent sick headache. His mother was positive in the | |
belief that both of the children had "ketched" some anonymous disease | |
somewhere and somehow. | |
"It didn't stand to reason [her reason] that the two on 'em would 'a' | |
come down at oncet in exac'ly the same way unless 'twas somethin' | |
ketchin. Flea mus' 'a' been off her head when she run away into the | |
woods and got into the cyart while Dick was a-noddin'. That <DW65> could | |
sleep 's well a-walkin' 'long as a-lyin' down." | |
When Mr. Grigsby arrived at the school-house Major Duncombe's buggy was | |
already there, Nell, his bay mare, standing patiently under an | |
aspen-tree. Her master and Mr. Tayloe were in the house, the Major in | |
his usual seat on the corner of the desk, the schoolmaster tramping from | |
side to side of the room. He stopped at the overseer's entrance, and | |
eyed him frowningly, without speaking. Major Duncombe said "Good-day'" | |
civilly, but gravely. Something unpleasant was in the air, and Mr. | |
Grigsby was certain it had to do with him before the Major opened the | |
conversation. | |
"We asked you to meet us here, Mr. Grigsby, because, as I wrote to you, | |
the matter we have in hand is confidential. I must request that, | |
whatever may be the outcome of our talk, the facts of this interview | |
shall remain confidential between us three." | |
"Your wishes shall be obeyed to the letter, Major Duncombe." | |
The employer was formal; the hireling was stiff. His conscience was void | |
of offence, and he would not behave like a man on trial. | |
"To begin with what you are already aware of," continued the Major, "we | |
have been annoyed of late by the discovery that a regular system of | |
thieving is going on upon this plantation. You know, too, how | |
unsuccessful have been our efforts to track the thieves. I told you | |
yesterday, that besides the depredations in the poultry-yard and the | |
loss of an occasional sheep or pig from the fields, one of the | |
smoke-houses was entered Thursday night, and four or five hams stolen. | |
Night before last the laundress carelessly left out in the garden a | |
quantity of valuable lace and handkerchiefs which had been laid on the | |
grass to bleach in the sun. In the morning everything was gone, also | |
several linen pillow-cases and towels from the line in the yard." | |
"I had not heard of this last robbery," said Mr. Grigsby, when the | |
speaker paused as for a reply. | |
The Major's gravity deepened. As he went on he avoided Mr. Grigsby's | |
eye. | |
"The information was purposely held back for reasons that will appear | |
presently. We agreed, you may recollect, that the guilty parties were | |
most probably the Fogg family. Also that they were aided and abetted by | |
some of my <DW64>s who have access to the keys and are familiar with the | |
habits of the household. My fear now is that the Foggs have made use of | |
other and more unlikely tools. To speak plainly, Mr. Grigsby, I am | |
afraid that they have tampered with your second daughter, and that the | |
freedom she has been allowed in the Greenfield house and grounds has | |
been used by them for their vile and wicked purposes--" | |
"Major Duncombe!" | |
The overseer's lank form was drawn up to full height; his deep-set eyes | |
were alight with angry and resentful amazement. | |
"You are surprised and displeased, Mr. Grigsby, and no wonder. This is a | |
most unpleasant task to me. I like the child. She has the elements of a | |
noble character in her. But I have positive proof of her intimacy with | |
the Fogg tribe. She stops at the house on her way to school; she sits | |
upon the porch and chats familiarly with them on summer afternoons. The | |
elder Fogg woman boasts of her intimacy with your family. Yesterday, | |
after school, Mr. Tayloe asked your daughter, who had been kept in for | |
insubordination and impertinence, to bring him a drink of water from the | |
spring. I met Mrs. Fogg going to the school-house as I was riding by at | |
the same hour, but thought no more of the circumstance until Mr. Tayloe | |
came home last night and told me a shocking story. He was sitting at his | |
desk writing, his watch and chain laid upon his silk handkerchief on the | |
desk beside him, when your daughter, coming up behind him, dashed pail, | |
water and all, over him, and ran away as fast as she could go to the | |
woods. He gave chase, but could not overtake her. Returning to the | |
school-house, he found that his watch and chain and his handkerchief | |
were gone. There seems to be no doubt that your daughter snatched them | |
when she blinded him for the instant with the water. Her confederate | |
must have been waiting for her outside." | |
The overseer's face was gray and rigid. He cleared his throat as he | |
began to speak. | |
"I must have very strong evidence--direct evidence of my child's guilt | |
before I believe all this, sir." | |
Mr. Tayloe spoke for the first time. He addressed the Major, not the | |
last speaker. | |
"What more does the man want than my word?" | |
The father wheeled sharply upon him. | |
"Did you _see_ her throw the water upon you? Did you look to see whether | |
or not the watch was upon your desk when you started to run after the | |
child? Might not the woman whom Major Duncombe saw have entered the | |
school-house while you were in the woods? Major Duncombe, my daughter | |
came home last night raving with fever, scratched by briers, and covered | |
with swamp mud. She has raved all day of the cruelty and injustice of | |
her teacher. There's another side to the story, sir"--the hand that held | |
his cowhide whip went up above his head and came down hard upon the | |
desk--"and as sure as I am a live man, and there is justice on earth or | |
in heaven, I mean to get at the bottom of this thing!" | |
He turned abruptly and stalked to the door. Warm moisture hung upon his | |
sandy eyelashes and made the lids smart. He could not have uttered | |
another word to save his life or his child's reputation. | |
The Major looked perplexedly at his companion, who shrugged his | |
shoulders and pursed up his mouth disdainfully. | |
"What else did you expect from him?" he asked, taking no pains to lower | |
his voice. | |
Mr. Grigsby came back as abruptly as he had left. He had got himself in | |
hand, and spoke in his usual dry, somewhat harsh voice. | |
"Major Duncombe, I am at your service as soon as I have your commands. | |
Do you advise a search of the Fogg premises? As a magistrate, you can | |
make out a warrant and qualify me to serve it. The son from Norfolk is | |
at his mother's just now. It might be well to make the search before he | |
gets away. As to my daughter--if there is any doubt as to her ability to | |
appear as an accomplice, you can satisfy yourself on that head by a | |
visit to my house. Perhaps a search of my premises might be expedient." | |
"By no means! It is not to be thought of!" cried the Major, impulsively. | |
"I hope you understand, Grigsby, how plaguedly disagreeable this whole | |
proceeding is to me--to us. I am so sick of it that I would not go a | |
step further were I the only party that has been robbed. As to having | |
the poor little girl up, it is all nonsense. I pledge myself for that." | |
"Even should her guilt be proved?" Mr. Tayloe jerked in the question, | |
his horse-shoe smile sinking the roots of his nose into his face. "Would | |
there be law or equity in such a course?" | |
"Pooh, pooh!" retorted the Major, impatiently. "We don't put the law | |
upon babies in this part of the world. Mr. Grigsby, if you will ride | |
along with us as far as my office, we will make out the necessary | |
papers, and also send for a couple of constables. Dan Fogg is an ugly | |
customer to handle." | |
The river mists were unfolding over the landscape as a cool evening | |
crept stealthily upon the heels of a warm day. They lay low upon the | |
meadows, and sagged over the banks of the sunken road beyond the | |
school-house. The three men had gained higher ground where the carriage | |
road was level with the surrounding country, when the eye of the | |
horseman, who rode behind the gig, was attracted by a gleam of light | |
twinkling across a wide field. It was like the glimmer of a fire-fly, | |
but his quick wits told him it had no right to be there. He watched it | |
keenly while it flashed and vanished, always at the same height from the | |
ground. Hiding on a stone's-throw further, he caught sight of it again. | |
It was stationary, and he had fixed the location in his mind. He rode up | |
to the side of the gig. | |
"Major Duncombe, it is well at this time not to overlook anything | |
suspicious. And a light in that old cabin over yonder is suspicious. If | |
you please, I will alight when we get nearer, and go on foot across the | |
fields to see what it means." | |
"Better pull down a panel of fence, and let us drive into the field," | |
suggested the Major. "I'll go with you, leaving the horses with Mr. | |
Tayloe." | |
About a hundred yards from the haunted house they alighted, and | |
approached it cautiously from the back. The light twinkled at intervals | |
through a crevice at the side of the chimney. Guiding their course by | |
it, the men trod lightly upon the withered herbage until they stood at | |
the front and only door. Here all was dark, but by laying their ears | |
against the door they could detect muffled movements within, as of some | |
one walking about and dragging something on the floor. The Major knocked | |
loudly with his loaded whip. All was instantly still. | |
"Who is in here?" he called. "Open the door! I am Major Duncombe." | |
No answer. | |
"Do you hear me?" he said again. "Open the door, or we will break it | |
down." | |
After another long minute, he whispered in Mr. Grigsby's ear: "Put your | |
shoulder against it, and when I say, 'Now!' drive it in. Are you ready? | |
_Now!_" | |
Under the force of their united strength and weight the crazy door went | |
down as if made of pasteboard, and with such surprising suddenness that | |
both men fell in with it on the floor. A man leaped over them as they | |
lay there, and rushed off into the darkness. Mr. Grigsby was the first | |
to find his feet. He struck a match and held it high to look around the | |
room. | |
"There's nobody here!" he said. "That fellow was holding the door, and | |
let it go purposely to throw us when we threw our weight against it. Ha! | |
here's his lantern." | |
[Illustration: MR. GRIGSBY EMPTIED THE BAG UPON THE FLOOR.] | |
It was on the floor, and, when lighted, revealed a disorderly heap of | |
stuff collected about a big carpet-bag, open, and partly packed. Without | |
further ado Mr. Grigsby picked it up by the corners and emptied it upon | |
the floor. At the very bottom were the missing lace and handkerchiefs, | |
and, rolled up carefully in a white silk handkerchief, Mr. Tayloe's | |
watch and chain. A roll of pillow-cases and towels was near by. Beyond | |
was a stout sack of oznaburg containing four hams. A roll of homespun | |
flannel, a box half full of candles, a bag of corn and one of oats, with | |
articles of lesser value, were piled in the corners of the cabin. The | |
haunted house was the cleverly chosen hiding-place of the booty | |
collected during several weeks, perhaps for months. | |
"I wonder how long this has been going on?" said the Major, giving a | |
long whistle as he stared about him. "No need of a search-warrant now | |
for the Fogg house. They were too smart to store their plunder there. | |
They are a sharp set! Not a <DW64> would come within gun-shot of this | |
place after sunset. Did you get a glimpse of the rascal who played us | |
such a shabby trick?" | |
"No, sir." | |
Mr. Grigsby was busy with the lantern that just at that moment went out, | |
leaving them in total darkness but for the dying daylight that found | |
entrance through the open door. When the candle in the lantern was | |
rekindled, the blaze made the overseer's face look ghastly, and his high | |
cheek-bones threw his eyes into shadows. They seemed to have sunken | |
further back into his head. When he spoke his voice was husky, as if the | |
yellow fog without had settled there. | |
"If you will take charge of the watch I'll ram the laces and linen into | |
the bag and carry it to the gig"--stooping to gather them while he | |
talked. "Then I'll prop up the door for to-night. The rest of the things | |
can be sent for to-morrow." | |
After the place was closed he strolled on ahead of the Major and tucked | |
the carpet-bag under the seat of the gig, making no reply to Mr. | |
Tayloe's impatient queries. | |
"Have you any other orders for me to-night, Major?" he asked, looming up | |
tall and dark in the twilight when his employer was in his seat. | |
"Nothing more, thank you, Grigsby," said the Major's lively, hearty | |
voice. His good humor was thoroughly restored by the excitement of the | |
adventure. "We may well be satisfied with our evening's work. And, I | |
say, Grigsby, if there's anything any of us can do for the little girl, | |
you know how gladly we would do it. Emily will be down in the morning to | |
see her." | |
"Thank you, sir." | |
The reply came back as he was moving toward his horse, and was hardly | |
audible. | |
"An uncivil cur!" commented Mr. Tayloe, "I wonder that you keep him." | |
"I might go further and fare a million times worse. It's natural he | |
should be sore and surly just now. If any man had said one-tenth of one | |
of my girls that I said of that bright little daughter of his I'd be as | |
savage as a bear." | |
"I submit that there is some difference between your daughters and his," | |
observed Mr. Tayloe, dryly. "But what have you found?" | |
"For one thing, your watch and chain." | |
The schoolmaster heard the story to the end without interrupting the | |
narrator. Then he sneered openly. | |
"I'll wager my head against a turnip that that impudent vixen put the | |
watch there herself. I'm not sure that she isn't responsible for the | |
laces and handkerchiefs too. Doesn't it strike you as rather odd that | |
her father should ferret out the stolen goods on this particular | |
evening?" | |
"Oh, come, now, Tayloe, that is carrying your detective genius too far! | |
Grigsby is an honest man if ever there was one. It is more odd that this | |
nest of thieves was not unearthed before. Grigsby only needed to be put | |
upon the scent. A canny Scot has a nose like a pointer-dog's if once you | |
wake him up." | |
The canny Scot was wide awake at this present moment, rolling his horse | |
up in a part of the road where the banks shut him away from possible | |
observation, he struck a match and examined more closely a piece of | |
paper he had picked up, unnoticed by the Major, in the hut. It had lain | |
open, the written side up, in the middle of the floor. At the first | |
glance he had read nothing but his daughter's name, yet had recognized | |
instantly the lost report, and instinctively secreted it. The match | |
burned long enough for him to verify his first impression. | |
"_October 31, 184-._ | |
"_Felicia Jean Grigsby: Lessons, usually fair. Conduct--room for | |
improvement! James Tayloe._" | |
The date was the day before yesterday, when her mother had scolded the | |
girl for loitering on the way home. He recalled the haste and heat with | |
which Flea had answered, while confessing that she had lost the | |
report--she could not say where. | |
How came she to be inside of that locked door? He had vowed to get at | |
the bottom of this matter. Was he there now? | |
Flea was worse when her father got home. Her cheeks were purple and | |
glazed with fever, her eyes wild and sightless. Her head rolled | |
restlessly on the pillow; her fingers picked tufts of wool from the | |
blanket while she crooned over and over what her mother described as | |
"outlandish stuff." Her aunt, who had established herself as head nurse, | |
had learned the lines by heart already: | |
"It stands beside the weedy way; | |
Shingles are mossy, walls are gray: | |
Gnarled apple-branches shade the door, | |
Wild vines have bound it o'er and o'er. | |
The sumac whispers, with its tongues of flame, | |
'Here once was done a deed without a name.'" | |
At the fourth repetition, in her father's hearing, the girl laughed | |
aloud--the hollow, mirthless peal of madness. | |
"_I_ made that poem! It's all about the haunted house, you know. Mrs. | |
Fogg says nobody but just we two dares to go there. She says the devil | |
has been seen there. I say he lives in the school-house. Eighteen | |
hundred and forty-four into three thousand six hundred and eighty-eight. | |
Why, father, that's just twice and none over. Now I've got to climb to | |
the top of the haunted house on a ladder made of noughts, noughts, | |
noughts!" | |
Her rambling subsided into whispers. She fell to tracing figures and | |
drawing lines upon the counterpane, her brows knitted, her lips moving | |
fast. | |
"That is worse than the singing," said Mrs. McLaren, aside, to her | |
brother. "She will work at that sum for an hour at a time. It is wearing | |
her out. Heaven forgive that teacher!" | |
The father did not say "Amen." | |
[TO BE CONTINUED.] | |
RICK DALE. | |
BY KIRK MUNROE. | |
CHAPTER XXV. | |
ENGAGED TO INTERPRET FOR THE FRENCH. | |
"Where did you get that baseball?" asked Bonny Brooks, referring to one | |
that Alaric was unconsciously tossing from hand to hand as they walked | |
up town together. | |
At this the latter stopped short and looked at the ball in question, as | |
though now seeing it for the first time. | |
"Do you know," he said, "I have been so excited and taken up with other | |
things that I actually forgot I had this ball in my hands. It belongs to | |
the fellow who gave me that breakfast and your dollar, besides telling | |
me where to look for something to do. Not only that, but I really | |
believe if it hadn't been for this ball he would never have paid any | |
attention to me." | |
"Who is he? I mean, what is his name?" | |
"I don't know. I never thought to ask him. And he doesn't live here | |
either, but has just come down from Alaska, and was going off on the | |
one-o'clock train. I do know, though, that he is the very finest chap I | |
ever met, and I only hope I'll have a chance some time to pay back his | |
kindness to me by helping some other poor boy." | |
"It is funny," remarked Bonny, meditatively, "that your friend and my | |
friend should both have just come from Alaska." | |
"Isn't it?" replied Alaric; "but then they are travelling together, you | |
know." | |
"I didn't know it, though I ought to have suspected it, for they are the | |
kind who naturally would travel together--the kind, I mean, that give a | |
fellow an idea of how much real goodness there is in the world, after | |
all--a sort of travelling sermon, only one that is acted out instead of | |
being preached." | |
"That's just the way I feel about them," agreed Alaric; "but I wish I | |
hadn't been so careless about this ball. It may be one that he values | |
for association's sake, just as I did the one we left in that Siwash | |
camp." | |
"Let me have it a moment," said Bonny, who was looking curiously at the | |
ball. | |
Alaric handed it to him, and he examined it closely. | |
"I do believe it is the very one!" he exclaimed. "Yes, I am sure it is. | |
Don't you remember, Rick, the burned place on your ball that came when | |
Bah-die dropped it in the edge of the fire the first time you threw it | |
to him, and how you laughed and called it a sure-enough red-hot ball? | |
Well, here's that place now, and this is certainly the very ball that | |
introduced us to each other in Victoria." | |
"How can it be?" asked Alaric, incredulously. | |
"I don't know, but it surely is." | |
"Well," said Alaric, finally convinced that his comrade was right, "that | |
is the very most unexplainable thing I ever came across, for I don't see | |
how it could possibly have come into his possession." | |
While thus discussing this strange happening, the lads approached the | |
hotel in which one of them had been made to suffer so keenly a few hours | |
before. He dreaded the very thought of entering it again, but having | |
made up his mind that he must, was about to do so, when his attention | |
was attracted to a curious scene in front of the main entrance. | |
[Illustration: A SMALL MAN WAS GESTICULATING TO A GROUP OF GRINNING | |
BELL-BOYS.] | |
A small wiry-looking man, evidently a foreigner, was gesticulating, | |
stamping, and shouting to a group of grinning porters and bell-boys who | |
were gathered about him. As our lads drew near they saw that he held a | |
small open book in his hand, from which he was quoting some sentence, | |
while at the same time he was rapidly working himself into a fury. It | |
was a French-English phrase-book, in which, under the head of | |
instructions to servants, the sentence "_Je désire un fiacre_" was | |
rendered "Call me a hansom," and it was this that the excited Frenchman | |
was demanding, greatly to the amusement and mystification of his | |
hearers. | |
"Call me a hansom! Call me a hansom! Call me a hansom!" he repeated over | |
and over at the top of his voice. "_C'est un fiacre--fiacre--fiacre!_" | |
he shouted. "_Oh, là, là! Mille tonnerres! Call me a hansom!_" | |
"He must be crazy," said Bonny; "for he certainly isn't handsome, and | |
even if he were, he couldn't expect people to call him so. I wonder why | |
they don't send for the police." | |
Instead of answering him, Alaric stepped up to the laughing group and | |
said, politely, "_Pardon, monsieur. C'est Monsieur Filbert, n'est-ce | |
pas?_" | |
"_Oui, oui. Je suis Filbert!_ Call me a hansom." | |
"He wants a carriage," explained Alaric to the porters, who stared | |
open-mouthed at hearing this young tramp talk to the foreigner in his | |
own "lingo." "_Vous voulez une voiture, n'est-ce pas?_" he added, | |
turning to the stranger. | |
"Oh, my friend!" cried M. Filbert in his own language, flinging away the | |
perplexing phrase-book as he spoke, and embracing Alaric in his joy at | |
finding himself once more comprehended. "It is as the voice of an angel | |
from heaven to hear again my own language in this place of barbarians!" | |
"Have a care, monsieur," warned Alaric, "how you speak of barbarians. | |
There are many here who can understand perfectly your language." | |
"I care not for them! I do not see them! They have not come to me! You | |
are the first! Can it be that I may engage you to remain and interpret | |
for me this language of distraction?" Here the speaker drew back, and | |
scanned Alaric's forlorn appearance hopefully. | |
"That is what I came to see you about, monsieur," answered Alaric. "I am | |
looking for employment, and shall be happy--" | |
"It is enough!" interrupted the other, vehemently. "You have found it. I | |
engage you now, at once. Come, the carriage is here. Let us enter." | |
"But," objected the lad, "I have a friend whom I cannot leave." | |
"Let him come! Let all your friends come! Bring your whole family if you | |
will, but only stay with me yourself!" cried the Frenchman, impetuously, | |
"I am distracted by my trouble with this terrible language, and but for | |
you I shall go crazy. You are my salvation. So enter the carriage, and | |
your friend. _Après vous, monsieur._ Do you also speak the language of | |
beautiful France? No? It is a great pity." | |
"Does his royal highness take us for dukes?" questioned the bewildered | |
Bonny, who, not understanding one word of the foregoing conversation, | |
had, of course, no idea why he now found himself rolling along the | |
streets of Tacoma in one of its most luxurious public carriages. | |
"Not exactly," laughed Alaric; "but he takes us for interpreters--that | |
is, he wants to engage us as such." | |
"Oh! Is that it? Well, I'm agreeable. I suppose you told him that I was | |
pretty well up on Chinook? But what language does he talk himself?" | |
"French, of course," replied Alaric, "seeing that he is a Frenchman." | |
"Are you a Frenchman too?" | |
"Certainly not." | |
"Well, I didn't know but what you were, seeing that you talk the same | |
language he does, and just as well, for all that I can make out. Really, | |
Rick Dale, it is growing interesting to find out the things you know and | |
can do." | |
Under Alaric's direction, the carriage first bore them to the railway | |
station, where a number of strange-looking boxes and packages, all | |
belonging to M. Filbert, were gathered in one place, and given in charge | |
of a porter, who was instructed to receive and care for any others that | |
might come marked with the same name. Then the carriage was again headed | |
up town, and driven to shop after shop until it seemed as though the | |
entire resources of the city were to be drawn upon to supply the | |
multitudinous needs of the mysterious Frenchman. | |
Among the things thus purchased and ordered sent down to the station | |
were provisions, cooking utensils, axes, medicines, alcohol, tents, | |
blankets, ammunition, and clothing. | |
Of course Alaric accompanied M. Filbert into each store, where his | |
knowledge of languages was invaluable in conducting the various | |
negotiations; but the Chinook interpreter, as he called himself, finding | |
that his services were not yet in demand, was content to remain | |
luxuriously seated in the carriage. | |
During the whole afternoon M. Filbert talked incessantly with his | |
new-found interpreter, and Alaric seemed almost as excited as he. At | |
length the former, casting a dubious glance at the lads, asked, with an | |
apologetic manner, if they were well provided with clothing. | |
"Only what you see, monsieur," answered Alaric. "Everything else we have | |
lost." | |
"Ah! Is it so? Then must you be provided with the habiliments necessary. | |
If you will kindly give the instructions?" | |
So the carriage was ordered to a shoe-shop and an outfitting | |
establishment, where both lads, to Bonny's further bewilderment, were | |
provided with complete suits of rough but warm and serviceable clothing, | |
including two pairs of walking boots, one of which was very heavy and | |
had hob-nailed soles. | |
These last purchases were not concluded until after sunset, and with | |
them the business of the day was ended. With many parting injunctions to | |
Alaric, and a polite _bonne nuit_ to both lads, M. Filbert was driven | |
back to the hotel, leaving his newly engaged assistants to their own | |
devices for the time being. | |
"Now," said Bonny, "if you haven't forgotten how to talk United States, | |
perhaps you will explain what all this means--what we are engaged to do, | |
what our wages are to be, and where we are bound? Are we to turn | |
gold-hunters or Indian-fighters, or is it something in the exploring | |
line?" | |
"I expect," laughed Alaric, "it is to be more in the climbing line." | |
"Climbing?" | |
"Yes. Do you see that mountain over there?" Here Alaric pointed to the | |
lofty snow-capped peak of Mount Rainier, still rose-tinted with | |
sunlight, and rising in awful grandeur high above all other summits of | |
the Cascade range, nearly fifty miles from where they stood. | |
"Certainly. I can't help seeing it." | |
"Do you think you could climb it?" | |
"Of course I could, if it came in my line of business." | |
"Would you undertake it for thirty dollars a month and all expenses?" | |
"Rick Dale, I'd undertake to climb to the moon on those terms. But you | |
are surely joking. The Frenchman will never pay that just for the fun of | |
seeing us climb." | |
"Yes he will, though, and I have agreed that we shall start with him for | |
the top of that mountain to-morrow morning." | |
CHAPTER XXVI. | |
PREPARING FOR AN ASCENT. | |
Monsieur Jean Puvis Filbert was a Frenchman of wealth, a distinguished | |
member of the Alpine Club, an enthusiastic mountain-climber, and had for | |
an especial hobby the making of botanical collections from high | |
altitudes. He was now on a leisurely tour around the world, and had | |
recently arrived in Tacoma on one of the Northern Pacific steamships | |
from Japan. This was his first visit to America, and he was filled with | |
enthusiasm by the superb mountain scenery that greeted him on all sides | |
as his ship steamed through the Strait of Juan de Fuca and up the | |
glorious waterways of Puget Sound. | |
As his knowledge of English was very limited, our mountain-climber began | |
his preparations for this arduous undertaking by engaging an | |
interpreter. The only one whom he could find was a Canadian, who spoke | |
French nearly as badly as he did English, and whom his employer was | |
quickly obliged to discharge for drunkenness and utter incompetence. | |
Then it seemed as though the expedition on which M. Filbert had set his | |
heart must be given up, and he was in despair. At this critical moment | |
Alaric Todd appeared on the scene seeking employment, though never | |
dreaming that it would come to him through his knowledge of French, and | |
was received literally with open arms. | |
Of course he was engaged at once, and was able to secure a situation for | |
Bonny Brooks as well, though the precise nature of the young sailor's | |
duties were not defined. Thus Bonny was allowed to regard himself as | |
also holding the rank of an interpreter, whose services would be | |
invaluable in the event of an encounter with Indians, who, for all he | |
knew, might contest every foot of their way up the great mountain. | |
M. Filbert wished the boys to spend the night with him at the hotel, but | |
Alaric was still so sore over his morning's experience that he begged to | |
be excused. So when they were left to themselves they carried their | |
recently acquired belongings down to the railway station, and persuaded | |
the agent to allow them to sleep in that corner of the baggage-room | |
devoted to their employer's collection of chattels. Here they put on | |
their new suits, and then, feeling once more intensely respectable, and | |
well content with their own appearance, each invited the other to dine | |
with him. Had they not two whole dollars between them, and was not that | |
enough to make them independent of the world? | |
They procured a bountiful dinner in the restaurant where Alaric had | |
breakfasted, and with it ate up one of their dollars. The place was so | |
associated in their minds with the fine young fellow to whom they owed | |
all their present good fortune that they thought and talked much of him | |
during the meal. Recalling what he had said concerning his father | |
reminded Alaric of his own parent, and caused him to wonder if he were | |
yet aware that his younger son was not travelling around the world with | |
the Sonntaggs as he had planned. | |
"If the dear old dad has heard of my disappearance," reflected the boy, | |
"he must be a good deal worried, for he has no idea of how well I can | |
take care of myself. I'll write to Cousin Esther, and ask her to tell | |
dad all about me. She is sure to see him on his way home, for he always | |
visits Uncle Dale's when he is in Boston." | |
So after supper, Alaric, who was beginning to have a lively appreciation | |
of the value of money, as well as of fathers, cautiously invested four | |
cents in a sheet of paper, an envelope, and a stamp, all of which he was | |
able to procure from the proprietor of the restaurant. The boy smiled, | |
as he carefully pocketed his one cent of change, to think on what a | |
different scale he would have made a similar purchase less than a month | |
before. Then he would have ordered a box of note-paper, another of | |
envelopes, and a whole sheet of stamps. As for the change, why, there | |
wouldn't have been any, for he would simply have said, "Charge it, | |
please," and it would have been charged to his father's account. | |
When Bonny saw that Alaric was about to write a letter he decided to | |
write one to his aunt Nancy at the same time, "For," said he, "she | |
probably imagines that I am in China by now, and would never think of | |
sending word to me here in case she got any news of father." So Bonny | |
also invested four cents in stationery; and the restaurant man | |
good-naturedly allowing them to use a table, besides loaning them pens | |
and a bottle of ink, they sat down to compose their respective epistles. | |
When Alaric's letter was finished it read as follows: | |
"DEAR COUSIN ESTHER,--I have taken your advice and run away--that | |
is, I have done what amounts to the same thing, for I just sat | |
still and let the other folks run away. By this time I expect they | |
are in China, while I am here in the very place you said you would | |
be if you were a boy. I wish you were one so you could be here with | |
me now, for I think you would make a first-class boy. I am learning | |
to be one as fast as I can, a real truly boy, I mean, and not a | |
make-believe. I have already learned how to smuggle, and catch a | |
baseball, besides a little batting, and to swim, sail a boat, | |
paddle a canoe, talk some Siwash, and have had a good deal of | |
experience besides. | |
"Now I am an interpreter and engaged in the mountain-climbing | |
business. We start to-morrow. | |
"I have a partner who is a splendid chap, about my age, and named | |
Bonny Brooks. I know you would like him, for he is such a regular | |
boy, and knows just how to do things. | |
"When you see my dear dad, please give him my warmest love, and | |
tell him I think more of him now than I ever did. Please make him | |
understand that it was the Sonntaggs who ran away, and not I. Tell | |
him that when I am through experimenting with my heart, and have | |
become a genuine boy like Bonny, I am coming back to him, to learn | |
how to be a man--that is, I will if I can afford to pay my way to | |
San Francisco. But you have no idea how much money it takes to | |
travel, especially when you have to earn it yourself, and so far I | |
haven't earned any. Still I have not starved--that is, not very | |
often--so far, and am in hopes of having plenty to eat from this | |
time on. Now I must say good-by because we are going to sleep in | |
the station to-night, and it closes early. | |
"Ever your loving cousin, RICK." | |
"P. S.--The principal reason I let the Sonntaggs go was because | |
they called me 'Allie.' Please tell this to Dad." | |
Bonny's letter was not so long as Alaric's, but it described the | |
situation with equal vagueness. He wrote: | |
"DEAR AUNT NANCY,--I am not in China, as you may suppose, having | |
quit the sea after rising to be first mate. Have also been a | |
smuggler, but am not any more. Am now engaged by the French as | |
interpreter, and so far like the business very well. Have also gone | |
into the climbing trade. We are to do our first mountain to-morrow. | |
Have for a chum one of the cleverest chaps you ever saw. He can | |
talk most any language except Chinook, and is a daisy ball-catcher. | |
His name is Rick Dale, and I am trying hard to be just like him. If | |
you have any news from father, please let me know. You can send a | |
letter in care of Mr. P. Bear, Hotel Tacoma, which is our | |
headquarters. | |
"Ever your loving nephew, | |
B. BROOKS, Interpreter." | |
Both these letters were sent to Massachusetts, Alaric's being addressed | |
to Boston, and Bonny's to Sandport. After they were posted, and our lads | |
were on their way back to the railway station, they began for the first | |
time to realize how very tired and sleepy they were. They were so | |
utterly weary that as they snuggled down in their corner of the | |
baggage-room, on a bed made of M. Filbert's tents and blankets, Alaric | |
remarked, | |
"This is what I call solid comfort." | |
"Yes," replied Bonny, "we certainly have struck a big streak of luck. Do | |
you remember how we were feeling about this time last night?" | |
"No," answered Alaric, "I can't remember. It's too long ago. | |
Good-night." And in another minute both boys were fast asleep. | |
They had taken "through tickets," as Bonny would have said, and slept so | |
soundly that they hardly stirred until the agent flung open the | |
baggage-room door at six o'clock the following morning, and caused them | |
to spring from their blankets in a hurry by shouting, "All aboard!" A | |
dash of cold water from the hydrant outside drove all traces of sleep | |
from their eyes, and so filled them with its fresh vigor that they raced | |
all the way up town to the restaurant. Here, although their appetites | |
were keen as ever, they managed to fully satisfy them with a ninety-cent | |
breakfast, "and left the place with money still in their pockets," as | |
Alaric expressed it. | |
"That's so," responded Bonny. "We've just one cent apiece. Let's toss up | |
to see who will have them both." | |
"No," said Alaric, "for that would be gambling; and I promised my mother | |
long ago at Monte Carlo never to gamble. She said more fortunes were | |
lost and fewer won in that way than by any other." | |
"But one cent isn't a fortune," objected Bonny. | |
"Why not? A man's fortune is all that he has, and if you have but one | |
cent, then that is your fortune." | |
"I guess you are right, Rick Dale," laughed Bonny. "I hate gambling as | |
much as you do; but it never seemed to me before that tossing pennies | |
was gambling. I expect it is, though, so I'll just keep my fortune in my | |
pocket, and not risk it on any such foolishness." | |
As the lads hastened back to the station, where they were to meet their | |
employer, the glorious mountain that was now the goal of their ambition | |
reared its mighty crest, radiant with sunlight, directly before them. So | |
wonderfully clear was the atmosphere that it did not seem ten miles | |
away, and Bonny, shaking a fist at it, cried, cheerfully, "Never you | |
mind, old fellow, we'll soon have you under foot." | |
[TO BE CONTINUED.] | |
THE CORONATION OF A CZAR. | |
BY JOHN RUSSELL DAVIDSON. | |
The greatest spectacles the world ever sees are the most solemn; | |
consequently, when a nation places upon a man, chosen by God as they | |
often believe, the symbols of sovereignty, the occasion is celebrated | |
with ceremonies of the most impressive character. | |
The last important crowning of a King occurred in Moscow on the 27th of | |
May, 1883, and by that event Alexander III. was created Czar of all the | |
Russias. | |
For two centuries the Russian imperial coronations have taken place in | |
Moscow, within the Kremlin, an enclosure in the heart of the holy city | |
in which are gathered the cathedrals and palaces whose walls have | |
witnessed all the celebrations of the great events of Russian history | |
for centuries. The coronation programme carried out nearly one hundred | |
and seventy-five years ago has remained unchanged in its important | |
details. Just before the coronation the sovereign retires from public | |
life, and spends a few days in fasting and prayer to fit and prepare him | |
for the occasion that is to be the grandest and most solemn in all his | |
lifetime. | |
On the present Czar's birthday, the 18th of May, began the official and | |
non-official ceremonies by which Nicholas Alexandrovich will be | |
proclaimed supreme ruler over a nation numbering one hundred and twenty | |
millions of people. | |
The actual crowning of this twenty-seven-year-old monarch will take | |
place on the 26th of May, and under conditions far happier than those | |
which made his father's coronation, though one of the grandest | |
spectacles in history, a festival clouded with a dreadful gloom that | |
fell upon the Russian people at the untimely death of the second | |
Alexander. | |
The royal procession starts from the palace, and, approaching the | |
Cathedral of the Assumption, is met by a party of the clergy led by the | |
archbishop of the realm. The latter carries a cross that is kissed by | |
the royal pair; then the Emperor and Empress, and the road upon which | |
they walk, are sprinkled with holy water. Entering the cathedral, where | |
the decorations vie with the brilliant robes and uniforms of the | |
assembled priests and officers, their Majesties tread upon the richest | |
Persian carpets, and, passing through a balustrade of gold, seat | |
themselves in two ancient arm-chairs beneath a scarlet canopy ornamented | |
with golden emblems, and yellow, black, and white ostrich feathers. | |
The services at the cathedral are essentially of the highest religious | |
order, and are performed by the leading ministers of the Greek Church, | |
of which the Czar himself is the exalted head. | |
[Illustration: THE CORONATION CEREMONY.] | |
A banner, called the Holy Banner of Russia because the pole is | |
surmounted by a spear-head made from a piece of the true cross, is | |
blessed and handed to the Emperor, who waves it three times before the | |
assembled congregation, and restores it to the primate. His Majesty | |
kneels, and the imperial mantle of silver and ermine is thrown over his | |
shoulders; the sword of John III., King of Poland, is fastened to his | |
side, while in his right hand is placed the sceptre, and in his left | |
hand the orb; rising in his place he then crowns himself with the | |
imperial crown, which is made in two parts, representing the Eastern and | |
Western empires. The Empress kneels before her husband, and for an | |
instant he rests the crown upon her brow. Another and smaller crown is | |
then given to Her Majesty by the Emperor, and at the same time the | |
ladies in waiting cover her with a robe similar to the Czar's. While all | |
this is going on, prayers are offered for the welfare of the new ruler, | |
and for the land during the reign just begun, and a great company of | |
singers chant the canticles; but as yet the people have made no | |
demonstration--they wait until the new Czar has been anointed. | |
The most important part of the ceremonials is now to be performed. The | |
Archbishop of Moscow holds a silver bowl filled with holy oil in which a | |
fragment of the crown of thorns has been immersed, and dipping a golden | |
palm branch into the liquid, touches the Czar's brow, his eyelids, ears, | |
lips, and the palms of his hands. Opening the monarch's vestments, the | |
priest traces, in holy oil, the cross upon the royal breast, pronouncing | |
at the time sentences of the greatest solemnity. Immediately after this | |
sacred act, cannon, trumpets, and drums announce to the people without | |
the church that from now and forever the person of the Czar is | |
consecrated, that he is a man anointed of God and the delegate of His | |
power. | |
In the mean time the Empress comes forward and is anointed by the | |
high-priest on the forehead only. The Holy Sacrament is then | |
administered to both their Royal Highnesses. While the Czar and Czarina | |
stand upon the platform of the throne a great chorus of joy is sung, | |
after which a mass is celebrated. At the moment the Czar receives back | |
the sceptre and globe the priest proclaims the imperial titles, and this | |
is hailed by a great outburst of cannon and bells, and everything that | |
can aid the people in a hearty acknowledgment of their new sovereign's | |
absolute right and power to rule them as long as his life shall last. | |
This concludes the holy service, and the splendid assemblage proceeds to | |
the Cathedral of St. Michael, where the royal pair kneel before the | |
tombs of their ancestors, and receive more sprinklings with holy water. | |
The procession is then formed and faced towards the Church of the | |
Annunciation, where still further religious services close an event | |
which is the grandest and most brilliant ever witnessed. | |
PRACTICAL GOLF. | |
BY W. G. VAN TASSEL SUTPHEN. | |
(_In Five Papers._) | |
IV.--APPROACHING AND PUTTING. | |
[Illustration: A PUTTING GREEN.] | |
Up to this point all of our hitting has been free, and our one object | |
has been to drive the ball the longest possible distance. But now, with | |
the hole within the reach of practical politics, the problem takes on a | |
new feature, and it is the _right_ distance that becomes the important | |
thing. If we know by practice that we can drive on an average 110 yards | |
with the brassy, and the putting green is about that distance away, we | |
will of course take that club and do our best. But supposing that it is | |
ninety yards, it would be a great mistake to try and make an easy swing | |
with the brassy, and the attempt would probably result in a "top" or | |
some other form of "foozling" or missing. It would be much better to | |
play the full cleek stroke, which is generally from fifteen to twenty | |
yards shorter in carry. Or, again, if it is too near for the cleek, we | |
may use the medium iron or the lofter. But when we are inside of a full | |
stroke with the lofter or iron, we must devise some method of making a | |
shorter shot than the full swing, for the ground is probably too rough | |
for the putter, or there may be a bunker just in front of the green. | |
The books on golf go into the subject of approach-shots in a most | |
elaborate fashion, and we are told that the three-quarter, the half, and | |
the quarter shot must now be brought into play, and the different | |
positions for making these strokes are described in a most minute and | |
yet confusing and contradictory manner. As a matter of fact, although | |
everybody talks of half and three-quarter shots, yet very few | |
authorities will agree on what they really are, or can clearly explain | |
how to make them. Is there any definite ground upon which to stand? | |
You remember that in discussing the full drive we arrived at the | |
conclusion that it must be a swing and not a hit, and that in a swing | |
the force is derived from velocity rather than from weight. Now the same | |
principle applies in this case. Supposing that we use exactly the same | |
effort of muscle for one swing that we do for another, but that the club | |
head at one time swings back to our shoulder, and at another time only | |
half-way. Evidently in the shorter swing it will be travelling at a | |
lower rate of speed when it strikes the ball, and consequently with less | |
power, and consequently again the ball will not go so far. Well, this is | |
about as close as we can get to the secret of how to measure distance. | |
The shorter the swing the shorter the carry, provided always that our | |
grip is the same. And it should be always the same--that is, close and | |
firm, particularly with the left hand. If we tighten it more than usual | |
it means that we are about to hit instead of swing at the ball, or, in | |
other words, we are "forcing" or "pressing." If our grip is too loose it | |
means that we are about to flop at the ball in a feeble, uncertain way | |
that is neither hit nor swing, and this is called "sparing." Both | |
forcing and sparing are equally wrong, and sure to lead to unsteadiness | |
and all kinds of misses. The grip should always be about the same, | |
certainly always firm, and we should endeaver to reduce yards of carry | |
to simple inches of swing. Of course this is not an easy thing to do, | |
and in fact the "short game," as approaching is called, is generally the | |
weak point in most people's play. These strokes that are short of a full | |
swing are often called "wrist" strokes; but do not be deceived into | |
thinking that the term implies a free use of those joints. On the | |
contrary, the left wrist in particular can hardly be kept too stiff. | |
These strokes, again, are never played with a brassy or wooden driver, | |
their use being confined to the iron clubs, and particularly the lofter | |
or mashie, whichever weapon you may use habitually in approaching the | |
hole. | |
The stance, or position of the feet, is one point upon which all the | |
doctors are agreed. A few players approach off the left leg, but the | |
great majority stand half-facing the hole, with the right leg very much | |
nearer the line of fire than the left one; in fact, the position is just | |
the opposite of the one advised for the full driving swing. Moreover, | |
the arms are drawn closer in, and in the case of a very short stroke the | |
right arm should be lightly pressed against the body to insure | |
steadiness. Get the general position right, and the rest will follow in | |
due course. | |
Two strokes may be specially considered--the high lofting shot, and | |
running the ball up with the iron. The first is used when there is some | |
obstacle directly in front of the green which must be cleared, and at | |
the same time there is danger on the other side. The problem, then, is | |
to loft the ball high into the air so that it may fall dead on the | |
putting green with little or no run. The position is still half-facing | |
the hole, and the swing should be almost straight up and down. And in | |
this one particular stroke you may allow the wrists to be as flexible as | |
possible, for the problem is to describe a small ellipse with the club | |
head, and not, as before, the segment of a circle. Of course you will | |
use a lofter or a mashie for this stroke. | |
The running-up stroke is very useful when there is rough ground between | |
you and the green, but no bunker to clear. To make this stroke the | |
player should have his hands well in front of the ball, which tends to | |
make the face of the lofter more upright than is its natural lie. This | |
is called turning in the face, and the effect is to skim the ball close | |
to the ground. The club should be carried back close to the ground, and | |
then brought forward with a slow dragging motion, both wrists being kept | |
perfectly stiff. It is worth while practising this stroke, for it is a | |
very effective one in its results. | |
[Illustration: PUTTING--FRONT VIEW.] | |
And now, after all our trials and misadventures, we are at last on the | |
putting green, and it only remains to hole out. Putting is not | |
particularly interesting, but you must remember that a stroke wasted at | |
the hole counts just as much as a foozle from the tee. Carefulness and | |
concentration are especially necessary, and although putters, like | |
poets, are said to be born, not made, you should at least aim at going | |
out in two strokes from any part of the green three times out of five. | |
Putting may be done in almost any position, but whatever stance you do | |
adopt, stick to it, and go in for results rather than for theoretical | |
experiments. The position shown in the illustrations is a sound one, and | |
you cannot do better than to adopt it. You will notice that the ball is | |
comparatively near the right foot, and that the right arm is lightly | |
steadied on the hip. Let the stroke itself be as near to a push as you | |
can manage it without actually committing that offence, and it will aid | |
you in controlling your distance if the club head is allowed to "sclaff" | |
along the turf or scrape it lightly. Remember, too, that after getting | |
your direction you must look at the ball and not at the hole. | |
[Illustration: PUTTING--REAR VIEW.] | |
Putting is divided into approach puts and holing out. In the first-named | |
the distance is the important thing. Of course you will play directly | |
for the hole in the hope that you may go out in one; but failing in | |
that, your ball must remain in such a position that the next stroke | |
shall be a dead certainty. The great tendency is not to be up with the | |
hole--_i.e._, you are so afraid of going too far past that your ball | |
stops that much short. It is an old St. Andrews maxim that the hole will | |
not come to you. Harden your heart, therefore, and play for the back of | |
the hole rather than attempt a dribble just over the edge. In other | |
words, use enough strength to run your ball at least a foot and a half | |
beyond the hole in case it fails to drop in. You are in no worse | |
position than if you had stopped that distance short, and you have had | |
the extra chance of a "gobble." | |
"Holing out" is, in nine cases out of ten, simply a question of keeping | |
your eye on the ball rather than on the hole. If you cast a glance at | |
the promised land the fraction of an instant before the ball is struck, | |
you will be sure to put off the line. Remember also that the precept of | |
always being up with the hole applies with equal force to your | |
approach-shots to the green. Always play for the hole itself the instant | |
that it comes within practical range of _any_ club, and you will save | |
many a put. | |
The "stymie" demands just a word. In a match, or hole, game the one | |
farthest from the hole must always play first, and this rule holds good | |
on the putting green. If the balls are in line with the hole and | |
_within_ six inches of each other, the nearer ones may be lifted, to be | |
replaced after the shot; but if _more_ than six inches separate them, | |
the ball farthest away must be lofted over if it is to have any chance | |
for the hole. The stroke is not difficult with a little practice, but | |
you must have your grip firm, and your calculations must be based | |
chiefly on your distance from the hole. If properly hit, the club will | |
loft your ball over the other one, and if the strength be right it will | |
drop or run into the hole. In medal, or score, play the ball in line and | |
nearest the hole is always holed out, and the stymie is never played. | |
And here and now and always-- | |
_Keep your eye on the ball._ | |
A LEAF PROM AN DIARY. | |
The largest slave-holder and manager in this country in 1856 was said to | |
be Mr. J. Hamilton Cowper, of Darien, Georgia, who was reputed as | |
directing the labor of 1500 slaves. On our way home from Cuba, in April | |
of that year, where we had been inspecting the system of slave labor, we | |
had the good luck to meet Mr. Cowper on one of the sea islands of South | |
Carolina. He was a remarkable man physically and mentally, and it was | |
said he could throw up two apples into the air and hit both with his two | |
single-barrelled pistols. | |
A few years before the date of our meeting him he had been wrecked off | |
Cape Hatteras, an account of which we drew from him as follows: He had | |
embarked at Charleston, South Carolina, on the paddle-wheel steamer | |
_Pulaski_, bound to New York, having under his care a Mrs. Nightingale | |
and her young baby, and another lady with a small child. Before turning | |
in he had inspected the small boats, as was his custom in those | |
dangerous voyages before ocean navigation by steam had been perfected, | |
and when about midnight the boiler burst he went straight to the ladies, | |
told them to hurry on their clothes and wait for him while he ran to | |
explore. Seeing that the steamer was absolutely wrecked by the | |
explosion, he took the two women to the nearest boat, lowered them and | |
their two children into it, and, with half a dozen sailors, pushed off | |
from the sinking ship. They pulled all next day, in company with another | |
small boat, towards the surf-beaten shore of Hatteras, he taking command | |
of the boat. They pulled along the surf for an opening, and saw the | |
other boat try to land, and swamp. At last his crew, without food or | |
water, refused to pull any further, and insisted on trying to land. | |
After trying in vain to show them the danger, he had to submit, but made | |
one of the best men promise to help save the women when they turned | |
over, as he told them they were sure to do. The boat capsized, and his | |
comrade made for the shore; but Cowper called him back. One woman Cowper | |
gave to him; the other had sunk, but he caught her by her long hair, | |
raised her, and the baby under her shawl smiled as she came up. It was | |
Miss Isabella Nightingale, now a bright girl of eighteen, with whom we | |
had just breakfasted. Mr. Cowper managed to get all of his protegées | |
above the surf, and then fell exhausted. All this was drawn out of him | |
without any boasting or exaggeration. It shows what a cool head and firm | |
hand can do in an emergency. | |
Space will not permit me to give here Mr. Cowper's opinions on the | |
rebellion, and of the relative value of free and slave labor. He was a | |
man of remarkable intelligence and executive ability, and it was said | |
that he kept a record of the work done and the produce gathered on each | |
field of his large domain during his long life. He told me that he | |
considered the popular notion that the white men could not work at the | |
South a mere fallacy. He, however, believed in the economy of slavery, | |
and doubtless, under his skilful administration, it worked better than | |
elsewhere. | |
SOMETHING ABOUT BUDS. | |
There are two classes of people--those who are forehanded and provident, | |
and those who neglect to look out for the future. One is wise, the other | |
foolish. Our Mother Nature, as she is sometimes called, belongs to the | |
wise class. She constantly and most wonderfully provides for the future. | |
Plants are her children, and foreseeing the winter, she does what she | |
can to preserve them from the severe cold, so that they may revive in | |
spring. She has several ways of doing this. In summer, to provide for | |
new growth of branches and leaves, the next season's buds are formed | |
under the bark. You can only find them by cutting into the bark. | |
Buds are the beginnings of leaves, branches, or flowers. They are tender | |
babies, and need to be cradled and blanketed. Here is a tough old | |
shagbark-tree. In the coziest manner possible the next year's buds are | |
tucked away under gummy and thick scaly leaves. Frost and icy wind | |
cannot injure them. Many forest trees protect their buds with scales. A | |
locust and buttonwood form their new buds under the hollow stem base of | |
the old leaf. Dr. Gray likens the old leaf to a "candle-extinguisher." | |
You have only to pull off a locust leaf any day in summer to see next | |
year's bud. It grows under the old leaf till it has strength to take | |
care of itself when the leaf falls in autumn. | |
We cannot tell at first, and from the outside, just what the bud is | |
going to produce. Some buds contain a whole branch, with all its leaves, | |
in embryo, curled up and tucked into a very small space. Often a flower | |
bud grows beside a leaf bud, and it may come out first in spring. Some | |
of the maples do that. The forsythia is a shrub which is covered with | |
yellow flowers in the early spring before a leaf appears on the bush. | |
Some plants protect their buds by keeping them underground. Plants have | |
stems running along or under the surface as well as straight up. The | |
horizontal stems are _root-stocks_. The pretty prince's-pine, the | |
sour-leaved wood-sorrel, peppermint, and indeed many of the common | |
flowers, have a horizontal main stem, with ascending branches. One of | |
the most curious is the Solomon's-seal. A new leaf is sent up every year | |
from the tip end of the root-stock, and the old, dropping off, leaves a | |
sear, which is the "seal." Buds formed on these underground stems are | |
protected from too great changes of temperature by a few inches of soil. | |
Those buds that lie on the surface must be protected by the dead leaves | |
which fall in autumn. They, the buds, are the real "babes in the wood," | |
you see. | |
Our baby bud, just like children, must have nourishment as well as | |
protection in order to grow in spring. This is provided by the thick | |
leaves that cover, or by the stem, or in some other way. The story of an | |
Irish potato is the most curious of them all. The potato is a collection | |
of underground buds and starch. The eyes of potatoes are true buds, and | |
each one can make a new plant. Have you ever seen the potatoes sprouting | |
in the cellar? Back of the eye is a scale, which is a sort of leaf. The | |
place for buds is just within the old leaf--that is, in the _axil_, or | |
space between the leaf and stem on the upper side. So that potato buds | |
are _axillary_. When our cooks pare potatoes for boiling they have to | |
dig these buds out with a sharp-pointed knife. But they are a boon to | |
the farmer. If he had to plant seed of potatoes he would wait two years | |
for his crop. But now he cuts a potato in pieces, taking care to leave | |
an eye on every piece. It would be wasteful to plant a whole potato with | |
several buds in one hill. Plenty of starch, the nourishment necessary | |
for the growing bud, is in one potato for all of its buds. | |
Propagation by buds and shoots is very common. More vegetation appears | |
from buds than from seeds, although most plants are none the less | |
anxious to produce seeds. They provide in both ways for the perpetuation | |
of their species. | |
It is for this reason that the spring, once started, comes on so | |
rapidly. One week there are only bare trees and brown fields; the next, | |
everything is in leaf and bloom. Every leaf of a horse-chestnut-tree | |
seems to grow an inch in a single night. The buds are all ready just as | |
soon as mild weather sets the sap running, and they almost jump into | |
active life. | |
THE EDUCATED GOOSE. | |
"What do you think, mamma," said Johnny, the other day. "I have just read | |
a real funny story in the paper, and it is all about a goose." | |
"Well, what did the goose do?" asked Johnny's mother, with a smile of | |
expectation. | |
"Why, this goose didn't do anything, but she is being taught her letters | |
with big red blocks, and after awhile I suppose she'll be able to read | |
_Mother Goose_. Won't she be surprised to find out that there was ever a | |
poet in the family?" As Johnny's mother made no reply, he continued, | |
pleasantly: | |
"I hope the poor goose won't ruin her eyes when she does know how to | |
read, because it would be awful if she had to wear eye-glasses like | |
grandmamma. I suppose she is now studying hard and going to school just | |
like a little girl." | |
"There isn't any school for geese, is there, Johnny?" | |
"No; I forgot when I said she was going to a regular school. She is | |
being taught at home by her owner. Don't you think it very kind of this | |
good man to teach the poor goose to read?" | |
"It is, Johnny; but I can't see the use in it." | |
"There may be no use in it," replied Johnny, who was not a little | |
surprised at his mother's view; "but I think it will be very nice for | |
the goose to be able to enjoy picture-books and read fairy tales, | |
especially when the pond's frozen and she cannot go swimming, and when | |
the snow is so deep that she can't go rooting around. Besides, when the | |
lawn is nice and green she can read the sign 'Keep off the Grass,' and, | |
of course, she will do it, because when she is educated she will be more | |
polite and refined. And then when the goslings crawl under her at night | |
she can put them to sleep by singing to them little songs, and she can | |
also tell them pretty stories about giants and fairy princesses when | |
they are swimming around the mill-pond, and then she will teach the | |
goslings to read. But there's one thing they will never do." | |
"What's that, Johnny?" | |
"Why, if they ever learn to write they won't do it with goose-quills. | |
But I suppose they will wander into the house, and sit on the sofa in | |
the library, and read books. Now suppose you were a goose, mamma, | |
wouldn't you like to be able to read?" | |
"I don't know, Johnny." | |
"Well, I would; but I would never like to read anything about the goose | |
having his head chopped off and being stuffed with potatoes and onions. | |
But I suppose when the goose can read she will be worth too much to eat, | |
because she can be used as a nurse, and read stories to little boys on | |
rainy days. And she may be able to teach little boys to read by using | |
blocks, and I can tell you that would be just fine, and a great deal | |
better than going to school, because the goose couldn't keep us in. Do | |
you know what I'd do if I were an educated goose?" | |
"No. What would you do, Johnny?" | |
"I'd start a swimming-school, and I could teach every kind of swimming | |
except swimming on the back. I think I know why the chicken can't swim." | |
"Why, Johnny?" | |
"Why, because she is afraid to try. Now, mamma, which would you rather | |
be, a wild goose or a tame goose?" | |
"Johnny, why do you ask so many questions?" | |
"Because, mamma, I have to answer questions all day at school, and the | |
only chance I have to ask them is at home." | |
"Then I wish you would hurry off to school now." | |
Johnny took his books and started; but when he was on the street he | |
looked back inquiringly at his mother. She opened the window and asked | |
him what he wanted, and he replied: | |
"Say, mamma, if the goose ever does have to go to school, and it is too | |
far to walk, how do you suppose she'll ever be able to fly with her | |
blocks and books under her wings?" | |
[Illustration: From Chum to Chum] | |
BY GASTON V. DRAKE. | |
XVI.--FROM BOB TO JACK. | |
PARIS. | |
[Illustration] | |
DEAR JACK,--Had a fine time yesterday. We hired a great big open | |
wagon that used to belong to Napoleon the Third and drove out to | |
Versailles. If it wasn't wrong to bet I'd bet you a quarter you | |
can't pronounce that word. Two to one you'd call it Ver-sales, | |
which it isn't at all, but Vare-sigh. That's a queer thing about | |
French. It isn't spelt the way it's pronounced, which I can't see | |
the good of, and people who don't know it get lost. Take the word | |
Luxemburg for instance. We'd pronounce it Luks-um-berg, but these | |
people here wouldn't recognize it if we did it in their hearing, | |
but if we said Loo-ksaun-boor they'd understand right away. And all | |
the streets are Roos or Boolyvars. Boolyvars is French for | |
Boulevards, and it's all right to call them that if they want to | |
because that's what they are, but what's the sense of changing an | |
easy word like streets into a silly little word like roos I can't | |
even guess, and I'm generally a good guesser. | |
[Illustration] | |
I sat next to the driver going out and it was very interesting. He | |
couldn't speak English and I couldn't speak French, so we spent | |
most of our time laughing. He'd say something to me and laugh and | |
then I'd get one of my jokes at him and laugh, and I must say it | |
was just about as good as if we understood what we were saying to | |
each other--anyhow, it was more successful than Pop's attempts to | |
talk to him. Pop said something to him in his patent French, as | |
Aunt Sarah calls it; he asked him what a certain building was and | |
as far as we could make out his answer, he replied that he thought | |
it might before night, though it was clear enough when we started. | |
Speaking of Pop's patent French, it sounds quite as good to me as | |
real French. He just takes an English word and Frenchifies it. For | |
instance if you don't know French for building, you say bildang. | |
Kesserkersay cet bildang la, in Pop's patent French means what | |
building is that there. In some cases it works without your knowing | |
it, like Pudding. If you take pudding and Frenchify it into | |
Pooh-dang it's near enough for a Frenchman to understand, and if | |
there is any, and there generally is, he'll bring you some. | |
[Illustration] | |
It's a beautiful drive from Paris out to Versailles and you see | |
lots all the way. The first thing we passed was the obelisk. It's | |
kept cleaner than the one in Central Park and I don't like it as | |
well. It doesn't seem so old, because it is so clean. Ours always | |
looks as if it was on its last legs as it has a right to be, while | |
this Paris one is as spick and span as it would be if it had been | |
polished up with tooth-powder that very morning. The next thing to | |
be seen on the drive was the Arc de Triomphe. That means Arch of | |
Triumph and was put up when the French people used to triumph. It's | |
got a fence around it now so that nobody can wear it out by walking | |
under it. That's sarcasm as Aunt Sarah calls it, which is saying | |
what you don't think with your nose turned up. The real reason why | |
it's fenced in I guess is that the French people aren't triumphing | |
as much as they were when they had a man like Napoleon at the | |
hellum. France isn't any Yale College nowadays and hasn't won | |
anything for a long time, and I don't see how she can expect to | |
with the funny looking soldiers she has. Pop says they're all fuss | |
and red pants, but Aunt Sarah thinks they're fine because there | |
isn't any pomp about them, they're content to be plain soldiers of | |
the Republic and wear what the government thinks is good for 'em. | |
Pop says they make up in vanity what they lack in pomp, and when it | |
comes to a question between Pop and Aunt Sarah I always side with | |
Pop because he's a man and knows more. Anyhow I don't think much of | |
the French soldiers. They haven't got great big chests like the | |
English soldiers have and somehow their uniforms make me think of | |
hand-organs. I wish we had a few arches like that Arc de Triomphe | |
about New York or even America. | |
You can see this particular one from all over the city and there's | |
no use of talking about it it makes you think more of the people | |
and you learn more of their history looking at arches than when you | |
don't see anything but elevated railroads and big sky-scraping | |
office buildings. That's one thing Paris hasn't got and I guess | |
it's one reason she's such a bright sunshiny looking city. All your | |
light and air and sunbeams aren't shut out by life-insurance | |
companies and newspapers. Elevated railroads, and life-insurance | |
companies and newspapers don't teach you much but arches of Triumph | |
do and I sort of think if we Americans would put up a few arches | |
like that even if they cost a lot of money and took ten years to | |
build there'd be more patriotism around about. I know this: I've | |
learned more history over here in a week from what I've seen, than | |
I could learn home in forty years from books, which is all we | |
Americans can learn from except the newspapers which don't even | |
agree and leave us worse off after we've read 'em than we were | |
before. | |
Then we went through the Bois de Bologne which as I told you before | |
is French for Central Park and it was great. They have woods and | |
lakes and avenues all through it and best of all you don't have to | |
keep off the grass either. What good grass is if you can't enjoy it | |
is a thing I never understood. Pop says he can't understand it | |
either except that people who can't make anything else like to make | |
rules which accounts for all the signs in Central Park forbidding | |
you to do everything you want to do, like "Don't tease the | |
monkies," and "keep off the grass" and so on. In our American parks | |
all you can do is walk where you're let, but here you can do | |
anything you please in the parks and no one's any the worse off. | |
What's more the folks that enjoy parks go to 'em and get all the | |
fun out of 'em there is to be had, here. You see Frenchmen pushing | |
two baby-carriages at once and smiling all over even if it isn't | |
easy work, and you can't ride a mile without seeing a half a dozen | |
picnics going on right square on the grass, any day of the week; | |
only a French picnic isn't a bit like an American one. It lacks | |
lots of things that makes an American picnic pleasant, particularly | |
lemon pie. It's queer these people over here don't seem to know how | |
good real pie is--but anyhow they all come out and sit on the grass | |
and sing together and have a good time. That's what I like. Pop | |
says I like it because it's something I never saw before, but he's | |
only half right. I like it because I like to see people having a | |
good time and that's what they have in the Bois de Bologne. Then | |
there are caffys where you can get ice-cream and cake all through | |
it with bands and fountains playing all day. | |
(_This letter will be continued next week._) | |
[Illustration: INTERSCHOLASTIC SPORT] | |
[Illustration: T. M. EDWARDS, | |
Winner N. E. I. S. Tennis Tournament.] | |
Although there was a larger number of entries for the New England | |
Interscholastic Tennis Tournament this year than last, the standard of | |
play was considerably lower. But it is hardly to be expected that every | |
season will develop such men as Ware and Whitman. The winner of this | |
year's tourney, T. M. Edwards, shows more promise than ability just now, | |
but he is made of good material, and is bound to develop. To win the | |
National Interscholastics, however, he will have to work hard between | |
now and Newport, for Fincke, I think, could defeat him to-day. | |
The matches were very uneven in the early part of this Cambridge | |
tournament, the winners, as a rule, taking two straight sets. In the | |
preliminaries only eleven three-set matches were played. The four men | |
left for the semi-finals were Edwards of English High to play Howe of | |
Cambridge Latin, and Seaver of Brookline High to play Cummings of Newton | |
High. Both matches were won in two straight sets, Edwards defeating | |
Howe, 8-6, 6-4, and Seaver getting the better of Cummings easily, 6-1, | |
6-3. The final match between Edwards and Seaver created considerable | |
interest and developed some good tennis. Seaver took the first set, 6-3. | |
After that Edwards drew himself together, and showed some good up-hill | |
work. His winning score was, 3-6, 6-1, 8-6, 7-5. | |
[Illustration: REGINALD FINCKE, SHERMAN L. COY, | |
Winners of the Yale Interscholastic Tennis Tournament.] | |
The standards of performance which must be attained by the athletes who | |
are to represent the New England I.S.A.A. at the National Games were | |
fixed by the Executive Committee at a recent meeting. They are as | |
follows: For the 100, 10-2/5 sec.; for the 220, 23 sec.; for the | |
quarter, 53-2/5 sec.; for the half, 2 min. 6 sec.; for the mile, 4 min. | |
40 sec.; for the walk, 7 min. 40 sec.; for the 1-mile bicycle, 2 min. 40 | |
sec.; for the high hurdles, 18 sec.; for the low hurdles, 28 sec.; for | |
the shot, 37 feet; for the hammer, 115 feet; for the pole vault, 10 | |
feet; for the high jump, 5 ft. 7 in.; and for the broad jump, 21 feet. | |
These are very high standards indeed, and a team composed of two men in | |
each event with records represented by these figures will be a hard | |
crowd to beat. | |
At this same meeting the Executive Committee passed a very good rule, to | |
the effect that contestants at the association's games shall pay the | |
regular admission of fifty cents, like spectators. This course was | |
adopted because in the past complimentary tickets have frequently failed | |
to reach contestants; sometimes they have not even been printed, and the | |
result has been that men have come to the games, and have had to pay a | |
fifty-cent admission anyway. This money is supposed to be returned after | |
the games, but seldom is. Under the new rule contestants will be sure of | |
not having to pay more than fifty cents. | |
[Illustration: J. K. Robinson, c.f. Johnson, 2d b. Hill, l.f. | |
Sheffer, sub. G. Robinson, 3rd b. Goldsborough, r.f. O. E. Robinson, | |
sub. | |
A. Robinson, s.s. S. Starr (Capt.), c. Hall, p. E. Starr, 1st b. | |
ST. PAUL'S BASEBALL TEAM.] | |
The St. Paul's, Garden City, baseball nine promises to be a strong team | |
this year, although, with the exception of four men, it is made up of | |
inexperienced players. Hard training, however, begun in February, has | |
developed strong team play and excellent base-running. Sidney Starr, | |
captain and catcher, is a first-class back-stop and a speedy and | |
accurate thrower. Hall, who did such good work last year, has made great | |
improvement in form and effectiveness. He has been troubled with a lame | |
arm, but will soon be in good condition. Everett Starr at first base is | |
playing a much better game than he did last year. Second base is covered | |
satisfactorily by Johnson, while Arthur Robinson, the young sprinter, is | |
proving himself a clever short-stop, good batter, and excellent | |
base-runner. George Robinson at third is new at the position, but fills | |
it acceptably. Hill, left field, and J. K. Robinson, centre field, will, | |
before the season is over, be in a class by themselves. Goldsborough, | |
right field, is slower, but makes up for this by his stick-work. The | |
substitutes are Sheffer and O. E. Robinson. (This nine seems to be | |
largely a Robinson family affair.) | |
The important games thus far have been with Berkeley and Brooklyn High. | |
The former resulted in a victory for St. Paul's by 7 to 4. The St. | |
Paul's vs. Brooklyn High-school game was a fine exhibition of scholastic | |
baseball. Although the teams were very evenly matched and the game was | |
close from start to finish, St. Paul's, by steadier play at critical | |
points and superior base-running, won by the score of 3-2. The | |
probability is that this victory secures the L.I.I.S. championship to | |
St. Paul's, as Brooklyn High is certainly the strongest school team in | |
Brooklyn. | |
[Illustration: Hastie, r.f. Watson, 1st b. Eddy, sub. Righter, 2d b. | |
Cheyney, c.f. | |
Martin, l.f. | |
Arrott, p. Kafer (Capt.), c. Cadwalader, 3d b., and p. Jones, s.s. | |
LAWRENCEVILLE BASEBALL TEAM.] | |
The Lawrenceville nine is slowly getting into trim for its important | |
games. So far the team is not noteworthy in any special particular, | |
although the general work is of a high order. The coaches have been | |
trying new men at first and third bases, short-stop, and centre field; | |
and yet with many of the old players back the team has been slow in | |
getting into form. Cadwalader, who played third last year, is | |
alternating with Arrott in pitching, and is doing fairly well. Arrott is | |
stronger than he was last year. Kafer, the Captain and catcher, is a | |
valuable man, and does the back-stop work satisfactorily, though his | |
throwing to bases is not yet sure or reliable. Watson, a new man at | |
first, is only fair. Jones, at short-stop, is a short, lively fellow, | |
who develops slowly, but surely and steadily. When not pitching, | |
Cadwalader fills third base well. In the out-field all the men are quite | |
sure on the high flies, though not at all reliable on the running | |
catches, and are slow in fielding in line drives. | |
As a whole the men may realize that success in a game is due to hard | |
work and determination and everlasting perseverance, but they surely do | |
not show it by their actions. They show little judgment in batting, | |
being puzzled continually by the pitchers; and many of them simply wait, | |
hoping to get a base on called balls. When on the bases the men have | |
thus far not shown their ability to seize every opportunity offered to | |
advance the bases. The coaches keep hammering away, however, and hope | |
for good results against the Hill School and Andover later on. | |
Lawrenceville has had some valuable practice games with the Princeton | |
consolidated team, which is the next to the 'Varsity, and beat them | |
twice in four games. The school team also did better in the second game | |
with the Princeton 'Varsity, 15-1, in nine innings; the first game | |
resulting 16-1, in five innings. Princeton has a strong batting team | |
this year. Eight of the fifteen runs in the second Lawrenceville game | |
were made in the first inning, but after that the school team steadied | |
down, and shut the 'Varsity men out for several innings. | |
Andover and Worcester will again this year have a dual track-athletic | |
meet. The probable date is May 23, at Andover. Both schools are getting | |
their men in condition, and much new material is being developed. | |
Andover has only a few of last year's men to count on. Senn, Dunton, and | |
Jones are doing good work in the sprints, and Lindenberg, although a new | |
man at the quarter, promises well for that distance. Gaskell in the | |
half, and Richardson and Palmer in the mile, are expected to score | |
points for Andover. Crouse is showing excellent form in the walk, and | |
will give the Worcester man a hard push for first place. Tyler will not | |
run in the half, which will be a severe loss to the team. Stone ought to | |
take a place in the bicycle-race, and Perry seems good for at least | |
second in both the pole vault and the high jump. An unusually large | |
number of men at P. A. are working at the broad jump, and some good | |
material ought to be developed for that event. Andover's principal | |
weakness is in the weights, the hammer and shot men all being new to the | |
work. Cady, who came up from Hartford this year, is a fast man over the | |
high hurdles, and Newcombe may be counted on for points in the low | |
hurdles. | |
The date for the National Interscholastic Games, which has been under | |
discussion for some time, has finally been set for June 20. Unless | |
something unforeseen occurs to prevent, the events will be run off on | |
the Berkeley Oval. | |
The Interscholastic League which was recently formed by Lawrenceville, | |
St. Paul's, the Hill School, Hotchkiss Academy, and Westminster has | |
fallen to pieces. For one reason or another, more or less valid--mostly | |
less--the three last-named schools withdrew, leaving only Lawrenceville | |
and St. Paul's. These two schools decided to continue in the League, and | |
will hold their games at Lawrenceville on May 23, extending to the other | |
three schools the privilege of joining at any time they may desire. | |
At the Pacific Coast championships, held on an improvised track at | |
Central Park, San Francisco, Saturday, May 2, the Academic Athletic | |
League's team took second place with 26 points, first honors going to | |
the University of California with 35, and the next highest score, 18, | |
being made by Stanford University. The A.A.L. captured all the | |
sprints--the 100, the 220, the 440, and also the 100-yard novice. | |
Drum took the 100-yard dash in 10-3/5 seconds, after winning two trial | |
heats in 10-4/5 and 10-3/5 respectively. The track was very slow, being | |
practically a course of soft sand. If the races had been run on a hard | |
track all the figures would undoubtedly have been much lower. Drum also | |
won the 220, which was run in one heat in 25 seconds. The 100-yard | |
novice went to Lippman of Hoitt's in 10-4/5 seconds, and the quarter was | |
taken by Woolsey, B.H.-S., in 57 seconds. Woolsey had a big crowd about | |
him, and seemed to be lost at the beginning of the last hundred yards; | |
but he made a great finish, and won. His time is excellent, considering | |
the track, which, besides being heavy, is seven laps to the mile, with | |
three turns in the 440. | |
The star scholastic performer of the day, however, was Cheek, O.H.-S. He | |
won the shot with a put of 41 feet 8-1/2 inches, which breaks the | |
Pacific coast record of 40 feet 5 inches. This winning put was his | |
third, the first being over 38 feet, and the second nearly 42 feet; but | |
he stepped out, unfortunately, and this was not measured. Edgren, the | |
U. of C. crack, was second in the event, and nine inches behind Cheek. | |
Cheek also went into the pole vault, and cleared 10 feet 5 inches, | |
although he weighs over 190 pounds, and has been in training only three | |
weeks. He competed in the broad jump too, doing 19 feet 8 inches, and in | |
the high jump he cleared 5 feet 4 inches, dropping out before he was | |
disqualified, in order to save himself for the vault. | |
Hoffman, O.H.-S., did good work too. He vaulted 10 feet 5 inches, and | |
jumped 5 feet 6 inches, securing second in the former event. Warnick | |
took his heat in the low hurdles in 29-4/5 seconds, and got third in the | |
finals. The walk was an exciting contest between Walsh of Lowell H.-S. | |
and Merwin, U. of C. The college man took the lead for two laps, when | |
Walsh forged ahead and led until the last hundred yards, when Merwin | |
spurted and crossed the line only a few yards to the good. The | |
California school athletes may well feel proud of the records made by | |
their representatives. | |
THE GRADUATE. | |
* * * * * | |
It was in the car of one of those narrow-gauge railroads that penetrate | |
the wilds of the Maine woods. The yelps of the dogs in the baggage part | |
of the smoker brought the conversation of the hunting party around to | |
pointers. Many wonderful tales of these excellent animals had been told, | |
when an old veteran with grizzled whiskers who had remained silent | |
remarked: | |
"That last story of yourn, neighbor, puts me in mind of my dog. We were | |
up near the border, precious nigh onto civilization, and I had played in | |
pretty good luck, bagging a couple of brace before noon. All of a sudden | |
I missed the dog, and I whistled and stamped round, but I couldn't raise | |
him nohow. Finally I gave it up. I knew he must be pointing somewhere | |
about, and thought he'd show up when I went into camp. Well, he didn't, | |
and I finally left the region. | |
"I happened to get up there again 'bout three weeks later, and striking | |
in near the same place, what did I stumble over but the dog, rigid as | |
stone, and pointing up a tree. Yes, gentlemen, he had a bird there, and | |
kept it till I came. When I shot it, the dog keeled over, couldn't stand | |
it any longer. Well, three weeks is a pretty good stretch for a dog, but | |
he was a wonder." | |
And the old veteran quietly puffed his pipe and silence reigned. | |
ADVERTISEMENTS | |
Arnold | |
Constable & Co | |
* * * * * | |
Paris Lingerie | |
_Peignoirs, Chemise de Jour,_ | |
_Pantalons, Jupons, Robes de Nuit._ | |
* * * * * | |
BATISTE CORSETS. | |
Shirt Waists. | |
* * * * * | |
INFANTS' WEAR. | |
_Hand-made Dresses, Mull Caps,_ | |
_Pique Coats._ | |
* * * * * | |
Broadway & 19th st. | |
NEW YORK. | |
[Illustration: Royal Baking Powder] | |
[Illustration] | |
Reader: Have you seen the | |
[Illustration: Franklin] | |
It is a Collection which no one who loves music should fail to own; it | |
should find a place in every home. Never before, it may truthfully be | |
said, has a song book been published at once so cheap, so good, and so | |
complete.--_Colorado Springs Gazette._ | |
[Illustration: Square] | |
This Song Collection is one of the most notable enterprises of the kind | |
attempted by any publisher. The brief sketches and histories of the | |
leading productions in the work add greatly to the value of the | |
series.--_Troy Times._ | |
[Illustration: Collection] | |
Sold Everywhere. Price, 50 cents; Cloth, $1.00. Full contents, with | |
specimen Pages mailed, without cost, on application to | |
Harper & Brothers, New York. | |
[Illustration: Thompson's Eye Water] | |
[Illustration: BICYCLING] | |
This Department is conducted in the interest of Bicyclers, and the | |
Editor will be pleased to answer any question on the subject. Our | |
maps and tours contain much valuable data kindly supplied from the | |
official maps and road-books of the League of American Wheelmen. | |
Recognizing the value of the work being done by the L.A.W., the | |
Editor will be pleased to furnish subscribers with membership | |
blanks and information so far as possible. | |
[Illustration: Copyright, 1896, by Harper & Brothers.] | |
For the present leaving the long run from New York westward at Buffalo, | |
we will turn, in response to many inquiries from Connecticut and western | |
Massachusetts, and give a few routes in those two States. This week we | |
give the first stage of the run from Poughkeepsie on the Hudson to | |
Hartford, Connecticut, by way of Waterbury. We have already given in | |
Nos. 810 and 817 of HARPER'S ROUND TABLE the route from New York to | |
Poughkeepsie, and by reversing other maps already published in the ROUND | |
TABLE it will be a simple matter to make out the road from Albany to | |
Poughkeepsie. | |
Leaving Poughkeepsie from the Nelson House, make for the big | |
turnpike-road that runs to Hackensack, which is seven miles away. In the | |
middle of the town keep to the left and run a mile out, where a fork | |
will be reached. Turn here to the left at Kyers Corner, and run on to | |
Fishkill Plains. The road is well marked from Fishkill Plains to | |
Hopewell, three miles further on, except that at one point, a little | |
less than two miles from Fishkill Plains, the rider should keep to the | |
right at the fork in the road. From Hopewell to Poughquag there are two | |
routes. The shorter and reasonably good road in dry weather keeps | |
straight on beside the railroad after leaving Hopewell, crosses it about | |
two miles out, and meets it again at Sylvan Lake, eventually running | |
into Poughquag by bearing generally to the right after leaving Sylvan | |
Lake. In wet weather, however, it will be very unwise to take this | |
direct route, as the road is then in bad condition. The wheelman is | |
therefore strongly advised to turn to the right and cross the railroad | |
track shortly after leaving Hopewell, taking a somewhat stiff hill | |
before running into Stormville, and keeping to the left on leaving | |
Stormville, but being careful to bear sharp to the left less than a mile | |
out, and thus continuing along a straight road to Poughquag. | |
The run from Poughquag to Pawling is direct over a good route; thence | |
the proper route continues through Cowls Corners and Balls Pond--the New | |
York-Connecticut line being crossed about a mile before the latter place | |
is reached--to Danbury. From Danbury to Hawleyville is a more or less | |
difficult road to find. It can only be said in general that on leaving | |
the hotel in Danbury bear to the left--that is, the northeastward--and | |
having crossed the Norwalk railroad, keep to the right at the fork just | |
beyond it. Do not cross the New York and New England Railroad until you | |
are running into Hawleyville, but keep straight on after reaching the | |
fork for about two miles over a pretty stiff hill, and thence some four | |
miles further to Hawleyville. From Hawleyville to Newtown is a short | |
three-mile run, and the rider is advised to put up at one of the hotels | |
there for the night. The run will be a mile or so under fifty, and the | |
hotels in Newtown are good. | |
NOTE.--Map of New York city asphalted streets in No. 809. Map of | |
route from New York to Tarrytown in No. 810. New York to Stamford, | |
Connecticut in No. 811. New York to Staten Island in No. 812. New | |
Jersey from Hoboken to Pine Brook in No. 813. Brooklyn in No. 814. | |
Brooklyn to Babylon in No. 815. Brooklyn to Northport in No. 816. | |
Tarrytown to Poughkeepsie id No. 817. Poughkeepsie to Hudson in No. | |
818. Hudson to Albany in No. 819. Tottenville to Trenton in No. | |
820. Trenton to Philadelphia in No. 821. Philadelphia in No. 822. | |
Philadelphia-Wissahickon Route in No. 823. Philadelphia to West | |
Chester in No. 824. Philadelphia to Atlantic City--First Stage in | |
No. 825; Second Stage in No. 826. Philadelphia to Vineland--First | |
Stage in No. 827; Second Stage in No. 828. New York to | |
Boston--Second Stage in No. 829; Third Stage in No. 830; Fourth | |
Stage in No. 831; Fifth Stage in No. 832; Sixth Stage in No. 833. | |
Boston to Concord in No. 834. Boston in No. 835. Boston to | |
Gloucester in No. 836. Boston to Newburyport in No. 837. Boston to | |
New Bedford in No. 838. Boston to South Framingham in No. 839. | |
Boston to Nahant in No. 840. Boston to Lowell in No. 841. Boston to | |
Nantasket Beach in No. 842. Boston Circuit Ride in No. 843. | |
Philadelphia to Washington--First Stage in No. 844; Second Stage in | |
No. 845; Third Stage in No. 846; Fourth Stage in No. 847; Fifth | |
Stage in No. 848. City of Washington in No. 849. City of Albany in | |
No. 854; Albany to Fonda in No. 855; Fonda to Utica in No. 856; | |
Utica to Syracuse in No. 857; Syracuse to Lyons in No. 858; Lyons | |
to Rochester in No. 859; Rochester to Batavia in No. 860; Batavia | |
to Buffalo in No. 861. | |
[Illustration: STAMPS] | |
This Department is conducted in the interest of stamp and coin | |
collectors, and the Editor will be pleased to answer any question | |
on these subjects so far as possible. Correspondents should address | |
Editor Stamp Department. | |
During the past year watchmakers, jewellers, carriage-builders, | |
livery-stable-keepers, piano manufacturers, and other industries have | |
been complaining that the bicycle has seriously interfered with their | |
business; but until of late stamp-dealers have had no reason to | |
complain. At present there is some grumbling in the trade, and a | |
disposition to blame the bicycle for it. The real reasons seem to be | |
twofold: first, the large number of new dealers, and secondly, the | |
innumerable auctions. The first cause will probably soon cease, as the | |
difficulty in getting good stamps to sell will probably soon weed out | |
the superfluous dealers; the second will probably have to run its | |
course. Collectors find that in many cases they bid against each other, | |
in the excitement of the auction-room, until the stamps cost them more | |
than they could buy them from dealers for by a little patience, and | |
awaiting their opportunity. | |
New Zealand offered a prize of $1000 for the best designs for the | |
contemplated issue of a new set of twenty-two stamps. No one artist was | |
successful, therefore a selection was made of the best designs, and the | |
prize divided. | |
For many years the scarcest European stamp was the 81 paras, Moldavia, | |
first issue. So scarce was the stamp that a clever swindler made a few | |
which he sold at a high price. Later on genuine copies were discovered, | |
and the leading philatelists discarded the counterfeits, and competed | |
with each other for the few copies which were undoubtedly genuine. | |
Recent research in the archives of the principality showed that the | |
entire issue was as follows: 27 paras, 3691; 54 paras, 4772; 81 paras, | |
709; 103 paras, 2584. | |
Plate numbers are still booming. Collectors are now trying to make up | |
sets of the earlier issues, and prices naturally advance. The demand for | |
Plate No. Albums still continues. | |
The U.S. government still refuses to sell the Periodical stamps of the | |
current issues, and yet at least two collectors have complete unused | |
sets, from 1c. to $100, of the stamps in blocks of three, bearing | |
imprint and plate No. Sets are still coming to the United States from | |
all quarters of the globe. The government would secure a large revenue | |
by allowing philatelists to buy these stamps. | |
The freemasonry existing between stamp-collectors is evidenced by the | |
reports of a number of leading philatelists who have been going around | |
the globe during the past few years. They met a warm welcome in every | |
land, civilized, semi-civilized, barbarous, and even savage. Having | |
parts of their collections with them operated as an "open sesame" in | |
every country. | |
Despite the wide-spread knowledge of stamps curious cases of ignorance | |
still occur. A few days ago the veteran J. W. Scott received in his mail | |
a copy of the very scarce "Danville" envelope, with a request to | |
exchange it for a few common stamps. The holder was much surprised to | |
receive with the stamps a check for a large sum. | |
F. NICOLL.--The prices quoted in this column are always those at | |
which the stamps can be bought of dealers. What dealers pay I do | |
not know. | |
L. PERKINS.--There are several dies of the 1861 3c. envelope stamp. | |
Only a few collectors care for these slight varieties of envelopes. | |
F. A. CHILDS.--No value except as bullion. | |
M. R. WISE.--The 5c. and 10c. Colombian envelopes can be bought of | |
dealers for 15c. and 25c. respectively; if used, for about half | |
these amounts. | |
C. S.--The coin can be bought of dealers at 75c. | |
MRS. W. T. WOODS.--We neither sell nor buy stamps or coins. | |
E. C. WOOD, 156 School Lane, Germantown, Pa.--No premium on the | |
coins to sell, but dealers charge a premium on all the coins sold | |
by them, whether rare or common. Compound perforations are those | |
stamps perforated on different scales on two or more sides; for | |
instance, many of the Swedish Official stamps are perforated top | |
and bottom 13-1/2, sides 14. | |
J. N. CARTER.--Your coin is Spanish, and is worth bullion only. | |
Many millions of them were used throughout this country up to 1834, | |
and in the South up to 1861. | |
B. W. LEAVITT.--Your three stamps are U.S. Revenues. All common. | |
H. M. ROBINSON.--No premium on the 1857 U.S. | |
R. I. P.--They are all war tokens issued in 1862 and 1863. Very | |
interesting and worth collecting, but they have no monetary value. | |
W. W. S.--The quarter, 1892, can be bought of dealers for 50c. | |
H. S. JOHNSON.--Your stamps are catalogued, Bavaria, 1 kr., yellow, | |
5c.; Greece, 1 lept., brown, 5c.; New South Wales, 8d., yellow, | |
surcharged O.S. in red, $4.50; Hawaii, 5c., blue, 30c.; Bavaria, 5 | |
pf., red, is a revenue stamp. | |
T. L. WATKINS.--There are about five hundred different "Private | |
Proprietary" stamps issued by the U.S. for revenue purposes. Some | |
of them are very common, others very rare. They are printed on four | |
varieties of paper, viz.: Old, silk, pink, and water-marked. Some of | |
the stamps were issued both perforated and unperforated. | |
PHILATUS. | |
ADVERTISEMENTS. | |
The Woman's | |
Bicycle ... | |
[Illustration] | |
In strength, lightness, grace, and elegance of finish and equipment | |
Model 41 Columbia is unapproached by any other make. | |
COLUMBIA | |
saddles are recommended by riders and physicians as proper in shape and | |
adjustment, and every detail of equipment contributes to comfort and | |
pleasure. | |
[Illustration] | |
$100 to all alike. | |
The Columbia Catalogue, handsomest art work of the year, is free from | |
Columbia agent, or is mailed for two 2-cent stamps. | |
* * * * * | |
POPE Mfg. Co. | |
Hartford, Conn. | |
[Illustration: Hartford Single Tube Tires] | |
[Illustration] | |
There are monarchs, there are monarchs, | |
Men of every clime and hue, | |
From the Czar of all the Russias | |
To the Prince of Timbuctoo: | |
Monarchs good and monarchs famous, | |
Monarchs short and monarchs tall; | |
But the _best_ is _our_ Monarch-- | |
It's the Monarch of them all. | |
Monarch | |
King of Bicycles--A Marvel of Strength, Speed and Reliability. | |
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. | |
Send for Monarch book. | |
[Illustration] | |
MONARCH CYCLE MFG. CO., | |
Lake, Halsted and Fulton Sts., CHICAGO. | |
83 Reade Street, New York. | |
JOSEPH GILLOTT'S | |
STEEL PENS | |
Nos. 303, 404, 170, 604 E.F., 601 E.F. | |
And other styles to suit all hands. | |
THE MOST PERFECT OF PENS. | |
Postage Stamps, &c. | |
$117.50 WORTH OF STAMPS FREE | |
to agents selling stamps from my 50% approval sheets. Send at once for | |
circular and price-list giving full information. | |
C. W. Grevning, Morristown, N. J. | |
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. | |
[Illustration: Thompson's Eye Water] | |
The Good Will School Fund. | |
A few words to Founders, members, and all who have contributed to the | |
Round Table Industrial School Fund: | |
Some time since, as you recollect, you voted to try to raise $3000 with | |
which to erect a brick structure at Good Will Farm to be known as the | |
Round Table Industrial School. Although in Maine, Good Will Farm takes | |
poor and homeless boys from every part of the country, so far as it has | |
accommodation, gives them a Christian home, an education, and a start in | |
the world. | |
Since you undertook the raising of this Fund, Good Will Farm has | |
prospered wonderfully. A part of this prosperity has been due, it is but | |
just to say, to the wider knowledge of its work and merits afforded by | |
the Table and its large membership. Generous men have built new cottages | |
as homes for more boys, and money has been given for the support of | |
girls, so that the place is soon to be not alone Good Will Farm for | |
boys, but Good Will Farm for girls as well. One citizen of New York has | |
bought a tract of land across the Kennebec River from the farm, and in | |
the grove on this land is to be held the summer school and annual July | |
gathering. | |
In memory of a deceased brother some kind ladies have built a | |
school-house--not an industrial, but a literary school, equipped with | |
every convenience. The cost has been nearly if not quite $25,000, not | |
including a proposed museum of natural history in one of its largest | |
rooms. | |
With such gratifying prosperity Good Will has grown quite beyond the | |
expectation held at the time we began our task. An industrial school | |
large enough to meet its present and immediate future demands would cost | |
at least $10,000--a sum far beyond the Table's ability to raise, and one | |
that it never thought to undertake. | |
There are many things to be considered in connection with our work to | |
date; 1, The times, which have been far from good; 2, The fact that | |
young persons, not grown-ups, undertook the task; 3, And most important | |
of all, our effort to earn, not to beg, the money we contributed--to be | |
generous with what was ours, not with other people's money. | |
Of our Fund at date, amounting to $1682.35, all cash in hand, we have no | |
reason to be ashamed. It is a handsome sum, and one that many an | |
institution besides Good Will would be glad to receive at our hands. | |
If, now, we change our plans we ought to bear in mind that we are not | |
the only persons who, finding that circumstances change, alter their | |
minds and their acts to fit them. Especially ought we to be gratified, | |
since the change that makes us alter our minds and acts is one of | |
wonderful prosperity for the splendid charity which we started out to | |
help. | |
After looking over the whole ground, and consultation with the | |
supervisor and one of the leading trustees, we beg to make to the | |
Founders this suggestion: | |
That the money now in hand be turned over to the trustees of Good Will | |
Farm, to be invested by them according to their best judgment, the same | |
to be known as the "Round Table Fund," and the income of it to be used | |
to help educate at Good Will any boy or girl, or boys and girls, as the | |
supervisor or trustee, or both, decide to be most worthy of such help. | |
Included in the amount of the Fund as given is money to pay for twelve | |
Memorial Stones, which were to form part of the base-line of the school | |
building. We suggest that the donors of this money be given the | |
privilege of withdrawing it if they so desire; but if they do not wish | |
to withdraw it, that the papers making the formal transfer contain | |
"codicils" or "minutes" mentioning the names of the persons or Chapter, | |
the same to forever form a part of the "Round Table Fund" foundation. | |
The method of deciding Round Table questions is by vote of the | |
Founders--postal-card votes. In this case we think it the part of | |
generous wisdom to allow all contributors, as well as all Founders, to | |
vote. And so the request is made that all of you give us opinions. Shall | |
we make the disposition of the matter here suggested? Remember, dear | |
Knights and Ladies, that we are to rejoice that we have a gift so | |
handsome in amount to bestow, rather than to sigh for the thousands of | |
dollars we haven't in hand to give. The Good Will trustees will gladly | |
accept the Fund in the form proposed. Shall we give it to them? | |
* * * * * | |
Camping Out in South Africa. | |
We were six in the little party which started to go to the mountain | |
to camp out. We trudged along with our bundles up the steep road | |
and through woods until we came to our hut. This hut was made of | |
poles interlaced with brush-wood. When we got there the first thing | |
we discovered was that some cattle had been there and eaten the | |
green leaves off, but that was soon put right. We had a lot of food | |
with us, and when we ran short a native boy we had engaged brought | |
up some more. All our crockery was of tin, as all other kinds would | |
break, and these always stood just outside the door. | |
One night three of us decided to go to town. The other three would | |
not come, so they staid and looked after the things while we were | |
away. We started at eight and got back at ten. When we went down we | |
were all dressed in our mountain suits, which were composed of | |
football jerseys and strong trousers, and these were pretty full of | |
mud. Our visit to town was shortened by the mist coming down, and | |
we had to hurry up for fear of it catching us at a very rocky place | |
we had to climb; but we got up just as it reached the top. | |
Meanwhile the three in the cave were having some fun. We were just | |
gone when they heard something in the tin mugs. One took up the gun | |
and shot as the thing jumped away, but only succeeded in wounding | |
it, as we discovered next morning by the blood-stains on the bough | |
of the tree. We staid ten days in the hut, and enjoyed the time | |
thoroughly. The last day it drizzled, so we gave up the plan we had | |
of going down in the night, and went at mid-day. | |
I am a stamp collector, and would like to exchange stamps with any | |
one who would do so. | |
R. MACWILLIAM, JUN. | |
GILL COLLEGE, SOMERSET EAST, CAPE COLONY, SOUTH AFRICA. | |
* * * * * | |
Guessing-contest Answers. | |
The family referred to in the "Guessing Contest" of two weeks ago is the | |
"Berry," and the numbered lines describe them: | |
1, Elder; 2, Goose; 3, Checker; 4, Knot; 5, Hack; 6, Box, 7, June; 8, | |
Hop; 9, Candle; 10, Poke; 11, Prince; (12, Wax, 13, Snow;) 14, Straw; | |
(15, Coffee, 16, Wine;) (17, Bane, 18, Bramble;) (19, Dog, 20, Bear;) | |
(21, Pigeon, 22, Partridge, 23, Crow;) 24, Bog; 25, Cloud; 26, Dew; 27, | |
Mul, 28, Blue; 29, Black; 30, Bil; 31, Bay; (32, Bar, 33, Choke;) 34, | |
Dangle; 35, Wintergreen; 36, Cran (crane); 37, Huckle; (38, Holly, 39, | |
Mistletoe;) (40, Soap, 41, Thimble;) 42, Rasp; 43, Yew. | |
* * * * * | |
Questions and Answers. | |
James Nichols asks if we have a story contest open now, and he sends a | |
tale for a prize. We reply, not now, and return his story. Louise Hall, | |
secretary of the Broken Bow Chapter, 216 Thirteenth Street, Oakland, | |
Cal., says members of her society want to hear from persons who can | |
describe famous places and homes of famous men. Kathleen Kent, 1162 | |
Harrison Street, is the member in charge, and she desires pictures of | |
famous men. The Chapter members promise to answer all letters on the | |
subject. Herbert C. Davis, Box 87, Carthage, O., plays chess, and wants | |
to play some games by mail. | |
* * * * * | |
Roberta Esther Conley was much interested with that touching letter from | |
Broussa, describing the hardships of Armenians, and she hopes everybody | |
who can will help Miss Barton and others in relief work. The Red Cross | |
Society is an international one, organized some years ago in Geneva, | |
Switzerland. Miss Clara Barton is president of the American branch only. | |
It has special privileges, as that it is, in time of war, to be | |
permitted to go into both armies to do relief work, and that all | |
generals shall recognize its officers and permit them to pass. It does | |
relief work in times other than war, as during floods, famine, | |
hurricanes, etc. "Why does it not go to Cuba?" We do not know. | |
* * * * * | |
"J. A. M." writes: 1. How can a boy seventeen years of age obtain a | |
position as cabin-boy or something else on board a sailing vessel to | |
California or thereabouts? 2. What are the duties involved in such a | |
position? 3. How much could he earn that way, and how would it be paid | |
to him? He does not intend to be a sailor, but wishes to regain his | |
health and strength and earn some money to help pay his expenses at a | |
preparatory school, for college, about a year and a half from now. 1. | |
Apply at office on board the ships. There is no general rule. Cases of | |
this kind are not numerous. A friend of the Table, aged 19, applied | |
recently and was promptly taken, mainly because he was big and strong. | |
He was offered $8 per month and board, and was required to ship for a | |
year's cruise. One going for his health would not be likely to get much | |
salary. 2. The duties of cabin-boy are those of a general boy of all | |
work. 3. The pay, even for a well boy, is very small, say from $4 to $6 | |
per month, with board. | |
* * * * * | |
J. L. P. and H. E. A.: All readers may send original puzzles for | |
"Kinks." They may also send short stories when competitions are open. | |
Short stories, other than in competition for prizes, are not desired. | |
But the Table wants morsels, descriptive of interesting but not too well | |
known places. Perhaps this latter phrase needs explaining. A morsel | |
about Mt. Auburn, describing the tombs of Sumner, Burlingame, and | |
Longfellow, would be interesting, while one describing Niagara Falls | |
would be too hackneyed to warrant space being given it. Round Table | |
Chapters are societies of young persons, sometimes of schools, often of | |
churches or neighborhoods, organized to study natural history, to make | |
collections, or perhaps merely to have a good time. | |
[Illustration: THE PUDDING STICK] | |
This Department is conducted in the interest of Girls and Young | |
Women, and the Editor will be pleased to answer any question on the | |
subject so far as possible. Correspondents should address Editor. | |
Among the qualities most to be desired in a young girl's character is a | |
high sense of honor. I wish I could impress on every reader the need of | |
being always above everything petty or small, so that one would not for | |
a single moment ever be tempted to do a mean or underhand thing, to | |
speak unkindly of a friend, or to repeat a conversation which was | |
confidential. | |
It may happen to you, for instance, to be visiting in the home of a | |
relative or friend, where there may be a little friction at the table, | |
or where some anxiety arises about the course of a member of the family. | |
No matter what you see or hear, in such circumstances you are bound, if | |
you are an honorable person, to be silent about it, neither making | |
comments nor looking as if you could tell something if you chose, nor in | |
any way alluding to what is unpleasant, at any future time. A guest in a | |
home cannot be too careful to guard the good name of those under its | |
roof, for it is an honor to be a guest, in the first place, and honor is | |
demanded in return. | |
Again, a nice sense of honor in matters connected with money is very | |
important. Polly is treasurer of a society, and has the care of the | |
funds. She must never for an instant, or in an emergency, lend these | |
funds to other people, or borrow them for her own use. I knew a | |
girl--Polly was her name, by-the-way--who was induced, being treasurer | |
of a certain guild, to lend her brother, for one day, the money she had | |
in her care. The brother was older than Polly, and a very persuasive | |
person. He said: "Why should you hesitate? I'll bring it back to you | |
to-night, and it will oblige me very much if I can take that fifty | |
dollars and pay a bill I owe before noon to-day." Foolish Polly | |
permitted her scruples to be overruled. The money was not brought back, | |
and but for her father's kindness in making it good she would have been | |
disgraced as a dishonest treasurer. She told me long afterwards that the | |
lesson had been burned in on her mind never to take liberties with money | |
which she held in trust. | |
A nice sense of honor will keep a girl from making a confidante of her | |
maid or of any person in an inferior situation. One's mother is a girl's | |
natural adviser and her safest intimate friend. A nice sense of honor | |
will hinder all prying into other people's affairs, and will lead one to | |
turn a deaf ear to the gossip of the idle and malicious. | |
Sometimes one becomes accidentally aware of a state of things which she | |
knows her friend must prefer to keep to herself. The honorable girl will | |
never hesitate here; she will be as thoughtful for her friend's | |
interests as if they were her own. | |
This little talk may be too old for some of my younger readers, so I | |
will conclude it by telling them a little story. Once upon a time in a | |
small New England village there was a district school. The boys and | |
girls went to this from the country homes for miles, some of them not | |
minding a very long walk over snowy roads in winter, and under the trees | |
in summer. The master was very grave and stern, and if he laughed behind | |
his grizzled beard, the children looking up to him from their benches | |
seldom saw it. A big ruler always lay on his desk, and they were very | |
much afraid of that; so that when one morning at recess, in a game of | |
ball, Charley B---- had the misfortune to break a window in the | |
school-house, it required no little courage in the eight-year-old boy to | |
march straight into the room, up to the desk, and confess that he had | |
been careless and had done the mischief. Mr. True was very kind, and | |
said, consolingly, that the window could be mended. So Charley rushed | |
off with a light heart. | |
Later in the day a girl, I am ashamed to say, stole up to the desk and | |
told her tale. "Mr. True," said this disagreeable little being, "_I_ can | |
tell you who broke the window! I saw--" | |
"Hush, Nancy!" said the master, in an awful voice. "I know who did it. | |
_An honorable person did it._ Which you are not. You may remain after | |
school and write out ten pages of history as a punishment for | |
tale-telling." | |
LOTTIE W.--Strawberries served for breakfast need not be hulled. | |
Eat them, instead, one by one, dipping each into powdered sugar. | |
[Illustration: Signature] | |
[Illustration: Ivory Soap] | |
Ivory Soap is white and pure; it is a clean soap and it washes clean. | |
THE PROCTER & GAMBLE CO., CIN'TI. | |
A quarter spent in HIRES Rootbeer does you dollars' worth of good. | |
Made only by The Charles E. Hires Co., Philadelphia. | |
A 25c. package makes 5 gallons. Sold everywhere. | |
[Illustration: Thompson's Eye Water] | |
HOOPING-COUGH | |
CROUP. | |
Roche's Herbal Embrocation. | |
The celebrated and effectual English Cure without internal medicine. | |
Proprietors, W. EDWARD & SON, London, England. | |
E. Fougera & Co., 30 North William St., N.Y. | |
FOR KING OR COUNTRY | |
A Story of the American Revolution. By JAMES BARNES. Illustrated. | |
Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.50. | |
The story is one of adventure and abounds in vivid description. The | |
author has evidently made a careful study of the New York of a century | |
ago, and of the history of the secret patriot societies which were | |
formed in the city under the British rule, and the story in many of its | |
descriptions has marked historical value.--_Boston Advertiser._ | |
Gives a series of striking pictures of social and military life in and | |
about the city of New York during the period of British occupation.... | |
Filled with exciting incidents, and will have a strong fascination for | |
young readers.--_Boston Transcript._ | |
A very stirring story of the early years of the American | |
Revolution.--_Brooklyn Times._ | |
Abounding in adventure, and those chapters in which the young soldiers | |
play the part of spies are particularly enthralling.--_Buffalo Courier._ | |
Full of movement and full of surprises.... Will instruct as well as | |
interest the average boy who reads it.--_Boston Journal._ | |
* * * * * | |
SOME OF | |
KIRK MUNROE'S POPULAR BOOKS | |
SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES | |
A Sequel to "The Fur-Seal's Tooth." | |
Brimful of adventures admirably recorded. The young folks will take | |
delight in it.... We confess to having read every word of the journal | |
with as much interest as we once read "Robinson Crusoe" or the "Swiss | |
Family Robinson."--_Christian Intelligencer_, N. Y. | |
A book that will hold the interest of its readers from beginning to | |
end.--_N. Y. Evening-Post._ | |
THE FUR-SEAL'S TOOTH | |
There is plenty of moving incident in the tale, and the atmosphere, | |
redolent of seals and the life of that stormy clime, will delight all | |
boys.--_Spectator_, London. | |
CANOEMATES | |
An entertaining story for boys, and will usefully enlarge their | |
knowledge of our great Atlantic peninsula.--_N. Y. Evening Post._ | |
RAFTMATES | |
The story has a strong, wholesome tone, and will hold the interest of | |
boy readers from first to last page.--_Churchman_, N. Y. | |
CAMPMATES | |
Capitally written and admirably illustrated.... An excellent record of | |
the early development of certain Western cities and of certain Indian | |
tribes now fast disappearing.--_Critic_, N. Y. | |
DORYMATES | |
A wholesomely exciting tale of adventure which any bright boy might | |
consider a valuable addition to his library.--_Christian Intelligencer_, | |
N. Y. | |
Each one volume. Illustrated. Post 8vo, Cloth, $1.25. | |
_The "Mates" Series, Four Volumes in a Box, $5.00._ | |
* * * * * | |
HARPER & BROTHERS, Publishers, New York. | |
[Illustration] | |
NOT STRANGE. | |
"I GIT GOOD MEASURE," SAID MRS. JONES, "BUT, I DECLARE, THE MILK HENRY | |
BROUGHT ME YESTERDAY MORNIN' WAS MORE'N HALF WATER." | |
* * * * * | |
The art of painting pictures so near to life as to deceive the naked eye | |
is very old. Pliny relates that Zeuxis once painted some grapes so | |
naturally that birds used to come and peck at them, and that Parrhasius | |
once painted a curtain so artfully that Zeuxis desired it drawn aside | |
that he could see the picture it hid. Discovering his error, he | |
confessed himself outdone, as he had only imposed on birds, whereas | |
Parrhasius had deceived the human intellect. Another time Zeuxis painted | |
a boy with some grapes, and when the birds again flew at the grapes he | |
was very angry, saying that he was certainly at fault with the picture. | |
He reasoned that had it been perfect the birds would have been | |
frightened away by the boy. | |
Caius Valerius Flaccus says that Zeuxis's death was occasioned by an | |
immoderate fit of laughter on looking at the comic picture he had drawn | |
of an old woman. | |
* * * * * | |
"The reason why the British want to swallow up half of Venezuela," | |
asserted Pat, "is because of the gold there is down there." | |
"Sure," replied Mike, "they're always after gold, the English. If they | |
were landed on an uninhabited island, they would not be there an hour | |
before they'd have their hands in the pockets of the naked savages!" | |
* * * * * | |
Baron Rothschild was once caught in a predicament that many people | |
experience daily, and that is getting into a conveyance of some kind, | |
and then not having the money to pay the fare. | |
The driver of the omnibus into which Rothschild entered demanded his | |
fare, and the Baron, feeling in his pockets, discovered that he had no | |
change. The driver was very angry. "What did you get in for, if you had | |
no money?" | |
"I am Baron Rothschild," explained the great capitalist, "and there is | |
my card." | |
The driver scornfully tossed the card away. "Never heard of you before," | |
said he, "and don't want to hear of you again. What I want is your | |
fare." | |
The banker was in great haste. "Look here. I've an order for a million," | |
he said; "give me the change." And he proffered a coupon for that | |
amount. | |
The driver stared and the passengers laughed. Fortunately a friend of | |
the Baron entered the omnibus at the moment, and taking in the | |
situation, immediately paid the fare. The driver, realizing his mistake, | |
and feeling remorseful, said to the Baron, | |
"If you want ten francs, sir, I don't mind lending them to you on my own | |
account." | |
* * * * * | |
TO GO A-FISHING. | |
It's time to put the lessons by, | |
The fields are full of daisies; | |
When summer blue is in the sky, | |
Who cares for sums and phrases? | |
Deep in his heart, his highest joy, | |
The boy _I_ know is wishing | |
To leave the school-room's strict employ, | |
And just to go a-fishing. | |
He'll find a grand old willow-tree, | |
Above brown waters dipping, | |
Where catfish glide and pickerels be, | |
And dainty birds are sipping. | |
There, waiting long, with earnest pluck, | |
At last his line will quiver, | |
And you and I will wish him luck | |
Beside that bonny river. | |
* * * * * | |
EXPLAINED. | |
WILLIE. "I think I know why Ponto wags that stump of a tail so very | |
hard." | |
AUNT JANE. "Why does he do it, Willie?" | |
WILLIE. "Because it is only half a tail, and he wants to enjoy a sense | |
of wagging a whole one." | |
* * * * * | |
A RAPIDLY MADE COAT. | |
Manufacturers are always pleased to turn out the product of their | |
establishments in less than the average time, and many have made records | |
to which they point with pride. In the issue of the ROUND TABLE for | |
December 10, a short article was published on making a coat in thirteen | |
and a half hours, from shearing the sheep to putting the finished | |
garment on a man's back. This was done at Greenham Mills, in England, in | |
1811. Mrs. James Lyon, of Bath, New York, writes that a similar feat | |
took place in that town in 1816, and was accomplished in less than nine | |
hours by one George McClure, who asserted that it could be done in ten | |
hours. The record of each step of the work still exists, with the | |
exception of the shearing. The wool was in thirty-five minutes; | |
carded, spun, and woven in two hours and twenty-five minutes; fulled, | |
warped, and dyed in one hour and fifty-one minutes; carried to the | |
tailor in four minutes, and was turned into the finished coat by him and | |
his journeyman in three hours and forty-nine minutes. The shears used in | |
the work are still preserved, and can be seen at the Steuben | |
Agricultural Society's Fair Grounds, at Bath. | |
This feat, at the time, doubtless attracted as much attention as a | |
record-breaking railroad train or steamship does to-day. It is probable | |
that many of our present manufacturers make such trials for their own | |
edification, which, if described, would prove interesting. | |
End of Project Gutenberg's Harper's Round Table, May 19, 1896, by Various | |
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