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Title: Harper's Round Table, July 2, 1895
Author: Various
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.
Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

*** Start of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "Harper's Round Table, July 2, 1895" ***

This book is indexed by ISYS Web Indexing system to allow the reader find any word or number within the document.

[Illustration: HARPER'S ROUND TABLE]

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

       *       *       *       *       *



       *       *       *       *       *




The male population of Middleton, Ohio, in the early summer of 186-
appeared to consist altogether of old men and boys. True, a few young
men, most of them dressed in blue coats with brass buttons, were to be
seen on the streets, but nearly all of them carried their arms in
slings, and one tall lad of twenty, who had once been the best runner in
the village, hobbled along on crutches, with an empty trouser leg pinned
up at the knee.

One bright morning three Middleton boys were sitting astride the top
rail of a zigzag fence that ran along a hillside at the edge of a
thicket of underbrush. A long Kentucky rifle lay across a near-by log.
One of the boys held in his hand a glass bottle slopped with a bit of
rag. Another had on a leather belt with "U.S." on the brass
plate--upside down. The third boy was digging at the rail with a dull

"I came near to running away and goin' as a drummer-boy," said the
youngster with the belt, "but they wouldn't take me on account of my
age. I'll be old enough this fall," he added. "Then you'll see."

"Your mother wouldn't let you go, Skinny," said the boy with the bottle.
"She told Grandad that two was enough."

"Father'd let me go if he warn't with Sherman," said Skinny, "and
brother Bill said I drummed good enough."

"My father wants me to stay home and look after ma," the second boy
sighed. There had been no news of his father for six months, now.

"I've got a letter from Alfred, written jes before he was taken
prisoner, I guess," said the third boy, closing his knife. He drew out
of his pocket an envelope with the picture of an American flag on it.

"Go on and read it to us," said the oldest boy, wriggling himself up
closer. And Hosmer Curtis began--following the words with his thumb:


     "DEAR BROTHER,--I wish I was to home to-night, with you all
     sitting in the kitchen, and mother reading to us the way she used
     to, rather than being here. I am writing this by moonlight mostly,
     as it is getting late. We have had a big fight all day, but drove
     the Rebs back across a crick into a swamp, where we captured a lot
     of them stuck in the mud. I am dreadful sorry to say that Tom
     Ditchard was killed. Poor Tom! I suppose the home papers will tell
     all about it; he was shot fording the crick. I have his watch; he
     gave it to me to bring back home. I hope I shall do so. To-morrow
     we will move westward to head off Morgan, I guess; I hope we won't
     march far, for my boots are all worn out, and my feet are sore.
     But I am well; love to all, and kiss mother. I wrote her two days

  "Your affec brother,

     "P.S.--The Fourth of July will soon be here. I suppose you will
     have no fireworks, though perhaps we shall. Good-by."

"I don't know as I'd like to be a soldier," said the boy with the
gunpowder bottle--he was also the proud possessor of the long rifle.
"'Tisn't so much fun, I guess. Think so, Skinny?"

"You're a 'fraid-cat," returned the boy with the belt. "That's what you
are, Will Tevis."

The other flushed, but said nothing; he was by far the smallest of the

"How do you know Alfred was captured?" said the thin one, after a
silence of a minute.

"He was on the missing list--that's all we know," said Hosmer, putting
the letter back into his pocket.

"It will be the Fourth in two days, now," remarked Skinny, as if to
change the subject. "But I hain't heard any talk about any celebration."

"Let's have one all to ourselves," suggested Hosmer.

"What with?" asked the smallest boy. "I guess this is all the gunpowder
there is in town." He held up the bottle. "'Tain't more'n three charges,
anyhow," he added.

"I know where there's all the powder you want to look at," said the thin
warrior, who jumped suddenly down from the fence. "Oh! and I say, you
know the two old iron cannon--if we could only get them out--hey?"

"They're locked up in the engine-house," rejoined Master Tevis.

"What's the matter with an anvil? It makes a lot of noise," suggested
Hosmer. "Where do you get the powder, Skinny?"

"Skinny," whose real name was Ambrose F. Skinner, Jun., assumed a very
mysterious air.

"Now, listen, and I'll tell you," he said. "You remember when they had
that smash up on the railroad last week--don't you?"

"You mean the train going South to the army?" asked Hosmer.

"Yep, that's it. Happened last Thursday," responded Ambrose, growing
excited. "Well! they ran two banged-up cars back on the siding above the
river-bridge, and left 'em. I guess they forgot, p'r'aps. But the
worst-busted car is loaded with powder. I saw the barrels: one of them
had a big hole in it. I say, come along, I'll show you. 'Tain't far."

"Come on; let's!" was the united answer. The two listeners jumped to the
ground, and Master Tevis picked up the rifle. Then the three struck off
across the hill, and walked along a path through the thicket of

In a few minutes the boys were standing beside two heavy freight-cars on
a crooked timber switch. The end of one had been broken in as if by a
collision, and the trucks of both were injured.

Skinny climbed into the wrecked car, and lifted the end of a tarpauling
that covered some barrels.

"There you are," he said, triumphantly. "All the powder you want--nuff
to blow up the town."

"I don't suppose they'll let 'em stay here very long," said Hosmer.

"But they can't send them South on the road now," remarked Tevis. "The
big bridge is down ten miles below--heard tell of it last night. They
will have to go back the other way; not a train's been through for forty

Tevis's grandfather was the station-agent at Middleton, and he spoke
with an air of certain knowledge.

"Come, hand up your bottle and we will fill her up," said Skinner,
extending his hand.

Will Tevis paused. "I say, fellows," he said, "I don't think it would be
right. Do you, Hosmer?"

"A bottleful would never be missed," interposed Skinny. "There's more'n
that spilled here on the floor. We _must_ celebrate the Fourth. Why not,
boys? Eh!"

It was evident that Master Skinner's intentions were liable to change,
however, and that some scruples were arising even in his mind, for he
said, testily,

"You're a 'fraid-cat, Will Tevis."

The latter put down the rifle. "If you say that again, Ambrose Skinner,
I'll fight you," he said.

"Oh, come, don't talk like that," said Hosmer, quietly. "Will is right,
Skinny; we oughtn't to touch the powder. It belongs to Uncle Sam."

"He would not miss a handful," said Skinny, shame-facedly. Then he
added, "I guess you _are_ right, though, come to think. Let's go back to
the village; it's most four o'clock."

The boys walked down the grade. A mile away was a wooden box-bridge with
a carriageway on one side and the single track on the other. It spanned
a deep and swiftly running stream that opened into the Ohio River a few
leagues below. It was here the accident had taken place.

As they came into the village street they saw that a crowd had collected
around the post-office.

"News from the front!" shouted Tevis, in the familiar words they had so
often heard; and the trio started forward on a run.

On the outside of the post-office shutters was a big placard drawn
hastily up in red ink:




These words stared them in the face. The news had come by telegram from
Turkeyville; but soon after the line had ceased to work, and no
particulars could be obtained. It was late that night when the boys went
to bed. The morrow was to be an eventful one for Middleton, and there
was a feeling of uneasiness in the air.

The next day was the 3d of July.

Will Tevis was awakened by a tremendous clangor of bells.

"Fire!" shouted Will, making one dive from the bed to the window.

He opened the shutters with a crash; but not a sign of smoke was there
to be seen. What could it mean?

"Sounds like the Fourth," he said, leaning over the sill and craning his
neck to right and left.

The Tevis house was far up the slope, on which the village stood, and
Will could look down one of the long streets. He saw people running from
the houses and heading for the Court-house square.

He hurried on his clothes, jumped down the back stairs, and rushed to
the street, joining his grandfather on the way. At the gate as they
turned into the dusty road they met Ambrose Skinner.

"Heard the news?" he yelled, as he approached.

"What is it? Has any one surrendered?" asked old Mr. Tevis,

"No!" shouted Skinny, at the top of his lungs, although he was quite
near. "The Rebels are coming! I'm off to summon Judge Black. They're
going to hold a meeting at the Court-house." On he ran.

Grandfather Tevis surprised himself, for in his excitement he had struck
into a long swinging gait that compelled Will to his best efforts to
keep up.

At the square all was confusion. The Middleton "Home Guards" were there,
forty-eight in number, composed mostly of men who were too old for
service. There was not a leader among them.

Mr. Tevis forced his way into a room on the ground-floor of the
Court-house. Somebody held up his hand to enjoin silence.

"They are receiving a telegram from Dresden down the river," whispered
a short, pale-faced man, in Mr. Tevis's ear.

There was a single wire connecting Middleton with Dresden, twenty-one
miles to the westward. The nervous operator was translating the dots and
dashes into words.

The-home-guards-have-run-away." Then there was a pause.

"He is a brave man to stick to his post so," said Mr. Tevis, out loud.

"Hush," said the pale-faced man; "here he comes again."

"Tick-a-tick," began the instrument.
"A-battery-of-artillery-is-with-them. They-are-here-at-the-station. I--"
The instrument stopped suddenly.

"Something has happened," said the operator, breathlessly.

"Call him up," said some one.

"He does not answer," said the operator, after a few minutes. But as he
spoke a slow ticking came from the receiver.

"Hello!" it spelled, laboriously.

"That isn't Jed Worth," said the operator. "Some one else has got hold
of the wire."

"Hold on; ask who it is," said Mr. Tevis.

Then an idea came in Will Tevis' head, and he spoke up. "Ask if it is
Frank," he said.

"What for?" inquired the operator, with his fingers on the key.

"Because if they answer yes, you will know they are trying to fool you,"
he said.

There was a murmur of approval.

"Is-that-you-Frank?" telegraphed the operator.

"Yes," came the unhesitating answer.

"Ask him if he has seen anything of the Rebs," suggested Mr. Tevis.

"No," was the response to this inquiry, "not one."

"He's a pretty good liar," said the pale-faced man, half to himself. The
instrument began to work again.

"Are there any troops at Middleton," slowly asked the Reb operator down
the line.

An answer was clicked back hastily.

"I told him that we had a regiment and two batteries of artillery,"
whispered the young man at the desk, smiling.

"Why under the sun didn't you make it an army corps," said Mr. Tevis.

The operator tried again, but no answer came. Dresden had switched off
for good. A bustle and a cheer outside in the square showed that
something was going forward. Judge Black had arrived. The Judge was a
veteran of the Mexican war; his age alone had prevented him from
accepting a commission in the army; but the village had a great respect
for his military knowledge. He was offered the command of the forces by
the Mayor; about four hundred had gathered; but there were no more than
seventy muskets, with less than four rounds apiece. A search of the town
shops disclosed the fact that there were but ten pounds of good powder
to be had. Now "Skinny" came to the rescue with the same words he had
used on the day before.

"I know where there's all the powder you want," he said, and he told of
the freight-car on the siding. Despite the broken truck it was brought
down the grade to the station, and two barrels were unloaded.

"Why not blow up the bridge?" suggested Will to his grandfather in a
whisper, which the Judge overheard.

"We may have to come to that," said the Judge, turning.

"We'll leave that to the last, though. Now we must throw up
intrenchments, and mount our two field-pieces. What's in those crates?"

"Uniforms, by jingo!" said a man inside the car.

"Get them out," said the Judge; "our forces must be uniformed. Have
those mounted scouts been sent out?" he added.

"Yes, sir," said the Mayor; "an hour ago."

In a short time the slope below Middleton presented a curious sight;
four hundred men and boys dressed in new uniforms with shining brass
buttons were digging a long trench that stretched from the railway track
to a steep bluff on the east. The old iron guns were in a position to
command the bridge and the further bank. The freight-car with over two
tons of gunpowder on board was anchored firmly in the centre of the

One man was left at the bridge to fire the train of powder if the enemy
advanced. About four o'clock a very respectable fortification had been
made at the bottom of the hill, and the few guns were distributed along
it. The little army paused to rest. The women and children had long ago
been sent north across the hills. At half past four a man on horseback
thundered across the bridge; he was closely followed by two others.

"The Rebs are coming!" they shouted. "Thousands of them."

In fact, almost at their heels rose a cloud of dust, and two or three
cavalrymen rode out on the bank of the river. They appeared surprised at
the line of earthworks, and the blue coats that here and there showed
plainly. In a few minutes more the bank was lined with rebel horsemen.

"Why doesn't he light the fuse?" said the Commander-in-chief, nervously
looking toward the bridge.

As he spoke a man ran up the track from the bridge; he turned and looked
back two or three times as if expecting something to happen. But nothing

"It failed to go off," said the man, out of breath, as he jumped into
the trench.

The Judge scowled at him. "Let go that battery," he said. "Commence

At the first discharge one of the old cannons burst, luckily hurting no
one, and the straggling volley that followed only showed to the enemy
the weakness of their opponents. A rebel with a powerful field-glass had
climbed a tree and taken in the situation. The enemy was preparing for
an advance. That was evident.

"Hang that fool!" said the Judge; "if he'd kept his wits about him, we'd
be safe. I don't believe he waited to strike a match. They could never
ford the river."

But he or no one else had seen a figure in a uniform much too big for
his small body steal across the track and crawl on all-fours down the
embankment on the further side. All at once they saw him emerge into
sight and dive into the shallow of the bridge. It was Will Tevis.

Just as the cavalry were preparing to charge, he came into sight again,
running swiftly down the middle of the track. A faint smoke arose from
the bridge entrance, several shots were fired at him; but on he came.
The intrenchments now broke out into flame just as there came a terrific
roar, a bursting rending sound, and the bridge disappeared. Will Tevis
in the ill-fitting uniform was a hero. The rebels were forced to keep
the other side of the swollen river, but exchanged shots for some time
before they drew away.

Coming up the hill late in the evening Hosmer and Will met Skinny.
"Where have you been?" they asked.

"Up in town looking for a drum," Skinny replied, flushing. "Will, I
'pologize for callin' you a 'fraid-cat."

The next day there was again no powder in the village; but Judge Black
made a speech which began, "On this glorious occasion."

"I wish we had some fireworks for to-night," said Hosmer, after the old
veteran had concluded.

"Never mind that, boys," said Grandfather Tevis, who had overheard. "You
boys had your Fourth yesterday."





The things on which we are apt to set the highest value in this world
are those that we have lost, and even our friends are, as a rule, most
highly appreciated after they have been taken from us. Thus, in the
present instance, Phil and Serge had so sincerely mourned the loss of
their quaint but loyal comrade, that his restoration to them alive and
well, "hearty _and_ hungry," as he himself expressed it, filled them
with unbounded joy. They hung about him, and lovingly brushed the snow
from his fur clothing, and plied him with many questions.

Even Nel-te showed delight at the return of his big playmate by cuddling
up to him, and stroking his weather-beaten cheeks, and confiding to him
how very hungry he was.

"Me too, Cap'n Kid!" exclaimed Jalap Coombs; "and I must say you're a
mighty tempting mossel to a man as nigh starved as I be. Jest about
boiling age, plump _and_ tender. Cap'n Kid, look out, for I'm mighty
inclined to stow ye away."

"Try this instead," laughed Phil, holding out a chunk of frozen pemmican
that he had just chopped off. "We're in the biggest kind of luck
to-day," he continued. "I didn't know there was a mouthful of anything
to eat on this sledge, and here I've just found about five pounds of
pemmican. It does seem to me the very best pemmican that was ever put
up, too, and I only wonder that we didn't eat it long ago. I'm going to
get my aunt Ruth to make me a lot of it just as soon as ever I get

As they sat before the fire on a tree felled and stripped of its
branches for the purpose, and munched frozen pemmican, and took turns in
sipping strong unsweetened tea from the only cup now left to them, Jalap
Coombs described his thrilling experiences of the preceding night.

According to his story, one of his dogs gave out, and he stopped to
unharness it with the hope that it would still have strength to follow
the sledge. While he was thus engaged the storm broke, the blinding rush
of snow swept over the mountains, and as he looked up he found to his
dismay that the other sledge was already lost to view. He at once
started to overtake it, urging on the reluctant dogs by every means in
his power; but after a few minutes of struggle against the furious gale,
they lay down and refused to move. After cutting their traces that they
might follow him if they chose, the man set forth alone, with bowed and
uncertain steps, on a hopeless quest for his comrades. He did not find
them, as we know, though once he heard a faint cry from off to one side.
Heading in that direction, the next thing he knew he had plunged over
the precipice, and found himself sliding, rolling, and bounding downward
with incredible velocity.

"The trip must have lasted an hour or more," said Jalap Coombs, soberly,
in describing it, "and when I finally brung up all standing, I couldn't
make out for quite a spell whether I were still on top of the earth, or
had gone plumb through to the other side. I knowed every rib and timber
of my framing were broke, and every plank started; but somehow I managed
to keep my head above water, and struck out for shore. I made port under
a tree, and went to sleep. When I woke at the end of the watch, I found
all hatches closed and battened down. So I were jest turning over again
when I heerd a hail, and knowed I were wanted on deck. And, boys, I've
had happy moments in my life, but I reckon the happiest of 'em all were
when I broke out and seen you two with the kid, standing quiet _and_
respectful, and heerd ye saying, 'Good-morning, sir, and hoping you've
passed a quiet night,' like I were a full-rigged cap'n."

"As you certainly deserve to be, Mr. Coombs," laughed Phil, "and as I
believe you will be before long, for I don't think we can be very far
from salt water at this moment."

"It's been seeming to me that I could smell it!" exclaimed the
sailorman, eagerly sniffing the air as he spoke. "And, ef you're
agreeable, sir, I moves that we set sail for it at once. My hull's
pretty well battered and stove in, but top works is solid, standing and
running rigging all right, and I reckon by steady pumping we can
navigate the old craft to port yet."

"All aboard, then! Up anchor, and let's be off!" shouted Phil, so
excited at the prospect of a speedy termination to their journey that he
could not bear a moment's longer delay in attaining it.

So they set merrily and hopefully forth, and followed the windings of
the valley, keeping just beyond the forest edge. In summer-time they
would have found it filled with impassable obstacles--huge bowlders,
landslides, a network of logs and fallen trees, and a roaring torrent;
but now it was packed with snow to such an incredible depth that all
these things lay far beneath their feet and the way was made easy.

By nightfall they had reached the mouth of the valley, and saw, opening
before them, one so much wider that it reminded them of the broad
expanse of the frozen Yukon. The course of this new valley was almost
north and south, and they felt certain that it must lead to the sea. In
spite of their anxiety to follow it, darkness compelled them to seek a
camping-place in the timber. That evening they ate all that remained of
their pemmican, excepting a small bit that was reserved for Nel-te's

They made up, as far as possible, for their lack of food by building the
most gorgeous camp-fire of the entire journey. They felled several green
trees close together, and placed it on them so that it should not melt
its way down out of sight through the deep snow. Then they felled dead
trees and cut them into logs. These, together with dead branches, they
piled up, until they had a structure forty feet long by ten feet high.
They set fire to it with the last match in their possession, and as the
flames gathered headway and roared and leaped to the very tops of the
surrounding trees even Phil was obliged to acknowledge that at last he
was thoroughly and uncomfortably warm.

The following morning poor Jalap was so stiff and lame that his face was
contorted with pain when he attempted to rise. "Never mind," he cried,
cheerily, as he noted Phil's anxious expression. "I'll fetch it. Just
give me a few minutes' leeway."

And sure enough in a few minutes he was on his feet rubbing his legs,
stretching his arms, and twisting his body "to limber up the j'ints."
Although in a torment of pain he soon declared himself ready for the
day's tramp, and they set forth. Ere they had gone half a mile, however,
it was evident that he could walk no further. The pain of the effort was
too great even for his sturdy determination, and, when he finally sank
down with a groan, the boys helped him on the sledge, and attached
themselves to its pulling-bar with long thongs of rawhide.

The two stalwart young fellows, together with three dogs made a strong
team, but the snow was so soft, and their load so heavy, that by noon
they had not made more than ten miles. They had, however, reached the
end of their second valley, and came upon a most extraordinary scene. As
far as the eye could reach on either side stretched a vast plain of
frozen whiteness. On its further border, directly in front of them, but
some ten miles away, rose a chain of mountains bisected by a deep wide
cut like a gateway.

"It must be an arm of the sea, frozen over and covered with snow," said

"But," objected Serge, "on this coast no such body of salt water stays
frozen so late in the season; for we are well into April now, you know."

"Then it is a great lake."

"I never heard of any lake on this side of the mountains."

"I don't reckon it's the sea; but salt water's mighty nigh," said Jalap
Coombs, sniffing the air as eagerly as a hound on the scent of game.

"Whatever it is," said Phil, "we've got to cross it, and I am going to
head straight for that opening."

So they again bent to their traces, and a few hours later had crossed
the great white plain, and were skirting the base of a mountain that
rose on their left. Its splintered crags showed the dull red of iron
rust wherever they were bare of snow, and only thin fringes of snow were
to be seen in its more sheltered gorges.

Suddenly Phil halted, his face paled, and his lips quivered with
emotion. "The sea!" he gasped. "Over there, Serge!"

Jalap Coombs caught the words, and was on his feet in an instant, all
his pain forgotten in a desire to once more catch a glimpse of his
beloved salt water.

"Yes," replied Serge, after a long look. "It certainly is a narrow bay.
How I wish we knew what one! But, Phil! what is that, down there near
the foot of the cliffs? Is it--can it be--a house?"

"Where?" cried Phil. "Yes, I see! I do believe it is! Yes, it certainly
is a house."



That little house nestling at the base of a precipitous mountain, and
still nearly a mile away, was just then a more fascinating sight to our
half-starved, toil-worn travellers than even the sea itself, and filled
with a hopeful excitement they hastened toward it. It was probably a
salmon cannery or saltery, or a trading-post. At any rate the one house
they had discovered was that of a white man; for it had a chimney, and
none of the Tlingits or natives of southern Alaska build chimneys.

While Phil and Jalap Coombs were full of confidence that a few minutes
more would find them in a settlement of white men, Serge was greatly
puzzled, and, though he said little, kept up a deal of thinking as he
tugged at the rawhide sledge-trace. He felt that he ought to know the
place, for he did not believe they were one hundred miles from Sitka;
but he could not remember having heard of any white settlement on that
part of the coast, except at the Chilkat cannery, and this place did not
correspond in any particular with what he had heard of that.

At length they rounded the last low spur of the ridge, and came upon the
house only a few rods away. For a few moments they stood motionless,
regarding it in silence, and with a bitter disappointment. It was
roughly but substantially constructed of sawed lumber, had a shingled
roof, two glass windows, a heavy door, and a great outside chimney of
rough stone. But it was closed and deserted. No hospitable smoke curled
from its chimney, there was no voice of welcome nor sign of human
presence. Nor was there another building of any kind in sight.

"I suppose we may as well keep on and examine the interior, now that
we've come so far," said Phil, in a disgusted tone that readily betrayed
his feelings. "There doesn't seem to be any one around to prevent us. I
only wish there was."

So they pushed open the door, which was fastened but not locked, and
stepped inside. The cabin contained but a single large room furnished
with several sleeping bunks, a stout table, and a number of seats, all
home-made from unplaned lumber. Much rubbish, including empty bottles
and tin cans, was scattered about; but it was evident that everything of
value had been removed by the last occupants. The chief feature of the
room was an immense and rudely artistic fire-place at its farther end.
Above this hung a smooth board skilfully decorated with charcoal
sketches, and bearing the legend "Camp Muir."

As Serge caught sight of this he uttered an exclamation. "Now I know
where we are!" he cried. "Come with me, Phil, and I will show you one of
the grand sights of the world."

With this he dashed out of the door, and ran toward the beach ridge
behind which the cabin stood. Phil followed, wondering curiously what
his friend could mean. As they reached the low crest of the ridge he
understood; for outspread before him, bathed in a rosy light by the
setting sun, was a spectacle that tourists travel from all parts of the
world to gaze upon.

A precipitous line of ice cliffs of marble whiteness or heavenly blue,
two miles long and hundreds of feet in height, carved into spires,
pinnacles, minarets, and a thousand other fantastic shapes, rose in
frozen majesty at the head of a little bay whose waters washed the beach
at their feet. Ere either of the boys could find words to express his
delight and wonder, a huge mass of the lofty wall broke away and plunged
into the sea, with a thunderous roar that echoed and re-echoed from the
enclosing mountains. For a moment it disappeared in a milky cloud of
foam and spray. Then it shot up from the depths like some stupendous
submarine monster, and with torrents of water streaming from it in
glittering cascades, floated on the heaving surface a new-born iceberg.

"It must be a glacier," said Phil, in an awe-stricken tone.

"It is a glacier," answered Serge, triumphantly, "and one of the most
famous in the world, for it is the Muir, which is larger and contains
more ice than all the eleven hundred glaciers of Switzerland put
together. That cabin is the one occupied by John Muir and his companions
when they explored it in 1890. To think that we should have come down
one of its branches, and even crossed the great glacier itself without
knowing what it was! I believe we would have known it, though, if the
snow hadn't been so deep as to alter the whole character of its

"If this is the Muir Glacier," reflected Phil, "I don't see but what we
are in a box. We must be to the westward of Chilkat."

"Yes," said Serge. "It lies to the eastward of those mountains."

"Which don't look as though they would be very easy even for us to
climb, while I know we couldn't get Jalap and Nel-te over them. I don't
suppose any tourist steamers will be visiting this place for some time,

"Not for two months at least," replied Serge.

"Which is longer than we can afford to wait without provisions or
supplies of any kind. So we shall have to get away, somehow, and pretty
quickly too. It doesn't look as though we could follow the coast any
further, though; for just below here the cliffs seem to rise sheer from
the water."

"No," said Serge, "we can't. We can only get out by boat or by scaling
the mountains."

"In which case we shall starve to death before we have a chance to do
either," retorted Phil, gloomily, "for we are pretty nearly starved now.
In fact, old man, it looks as though the good fortune that has stood by
us during the whole of this journey had deserted us at its very end."

By this time the boys had strolled back to the cabin, which was left by
the setting sun in a dark shadow. As they turned its corner they came
upon Nel-te standing outside clapping his chubby hands, and gazing
upward in an ecstasy of delight. Following the child's glance Phil
uttered a startled exclamation, and sprang through the doorway. A moment
later he emerged, rifle in hand.

High up on a shoulder of the mountain, hundreds of feet above the cabin,
sharply outlined against the sky, and bathed in the full glory of the
setting sun, a mountain-goat, with immensely thick hair of snowy white,
and sharp black horns, stood as motionless as though carved from marble.
Blinded by the sunlight, and believing himself to be surrounded by a
solitude untenanted by enemies, he saw not the quietly moving figures in
the dim shadows beneath him.

Twice did Phil raise his rifle, and twice did he lower it, so tremulous
was he with excitement, and a knowledge that four human lives depended
on the result of his shot. The third time he took a quick aim and fired.
As the report echoed sharply from the beetling cliffs, the stricken
animal gave a mighty leap straight out into space, and came whirling
downward like a great white bird with broken wings. He struck twice, but
bounded off each time, and finally lay motionless, buried in the snow at
the very foot of the mountain that had been his home.

"Seeing as how we hain't got no fire nor no matches I reckon we'll eat
our meat raw like the Huskies," said Jalap Coombs, dryly, a little
later, as they began to skin and cut up the goat.

"Whew!" ejaculated Phil. "I never thought of that but I know how to make
a fire with the powder from a cartridge, if one of you can furnish a bit
of cotton cloth."

"It seems a pity to waste a cartridge," said Serge, "when we haven't but
three or four left, and a single one has just done so much for us. I
think I can get fire in a much more economical way."

"How?" queried Phil.

"Ye won't find no brimstone nor yet feathers here," suggested Jalap
Coombs, with a shake of his head.

"Never mind," laughed Serge; "you two keep on cutting up the goat, and
by the time your job is completed I think I can promise that mine will
be." So saying, Serge entered the cabin and closed the door.

In a pile of rubbish he had noticed several small pieces of wood, and a
quantity of very dry botanical specimens, some of which bore fluffy
seed-vessels that could be used as tinder. He selected a bit of soft
pine, and worked a hole in it with the point of his knife. Next he
whittled out a thick pencil of the hardest wood he could find, sharpened
one end and rounded the other. In a block of hard wood he dug a cavity,
into which the rounded top of the pencil would fit. He found a section
of barrel hoop, and strung it very loosely with a length of rawhide from
a dog harness, so as to make a small bow. Finally he took a turn of the
bow-string about the pencil, fitted the point into the soft pine that
rested on the floor, and the other end into the hard wood block on which
he leaned his breast.


With one hand he now drew the bow swiftly to and fro, causing the pencil
to revolve with great rapidity, and with the other he held a small
quantity of tinder close to its point of contact with the soft pine. The
rapid movement of the pencil produced a few grains of fine sawdust, and
this shortly began to smoke with the heat of the friction. In less than
one minute the sawdust and tinder were in a glow that a breath fanned
into a flame, and there was no longer any doubt about a fire.[2]

That evening, as our friends sat contentedly in front of a cheerful
blaze, after a more satisfactory meal than they had enjoyed for many a
day, Jalap Coombs remarked that he only wanted one more thing to make
him perfectly happy.

"Same here," said Phil. "What's your want?"

"A pipeful of tobacco," replied the sailor, whose whole smoking outfit
had been lost with his sledge.

"All I want," laughed Phil, "is to know how and when we are to get out
of this trap and continue our journey to Sitka. I hate the thought of
spending a couple of months here, even if there are plenty of goats."

"I can't think of anything else we can do," said Serge, thoughtfully.

And yet those who were to rescue them from their perplexing situation
were within five miles of them at that very moment.



[1] Begun in HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE No. 801.

[2] This is the Eskimo method; and I have seen a Norton Sound Eskimo
woman obtain fire by this simple means inside of ten seconds.--K.M.




They were all in the "long parlor" after tea. It was a beautiful room,
extending the length of the house, and it was large enough to contain
four windows and two fire-places. The paper on the walls was
old-fashioned--indeed, it had been there when the children's grandmother
was a girl, and the furniture was of equally early date.

It was all handsome, but shabby-looking. A few dollars wisely spent
would have made a vast difference in its appearance; but, unfortunately,
there were never any dollars to spare.

Jack had resumed the argument. "Nonsense, nonsense, Jack!" said Mr.
Franklin. "It is absurd for a boy like you to ask me for so much money.
Incubators are of no good, anyhow. Give me a good old-fashioned hen."

"Perhaps, papa," said Cynthia, demurely, "Jack will give you a good
old-fashioned hen if you let him buy an incubator to raise her with."

Mr. Franklin laughed. Then he grew very grave again.

"There's no doubt about my making something of it," persisted Jack. "I
_wish_ you would let me try, father! I'll pay back whatever you lend me.
Indeed I will. It's only forty dollars for the machine."

Mr. Franklin was very determined. He could seldom be induced to change
his mind, and his prejudices were very strong. Jack's face fell. It was
of no use; he would have to give it up.

Presently Aunt Betsey spoke. She had been an attentive listener to the
conversation, and now she settled herself anew in her rocking-chair, and
folded her hands in the way she always did when she had something of
especial importance to say.

"How much money do you need, Jackie? Forty dollars, did you say?"

"Forty for the incubator," said Jack, rather shortly. He felt like
crying, though he _was_ a boy, and he wished Aunt Betsey would not
question him.

"And then you must buy the eggs," put in Cynthia.

"And what do the chicks live in after they come out?" asked Miss
Trinkett, who knew something about farming, and with all her
eccentricities was very practical.

"They live in brooders," said Jack, warming to his beloved subject. "If
I could buy one brooder for a pattern I could make others like it. I'd
have to fence off places for the chicks to run in, and that would take a
little money. I suppose I'd have to have fifty-five or sixty dollars to
start nicely with and have things in good shape."

"Nephew John," said Miss Betsey, solemnly, turning to Mr. Franklin, "I
don't wish to interfere between parent and child, it's not my way; but
if you have no other objections to Jackie's hen-making machine--I forget
its outlandish name--I am willing, in fact I'd be very pleased, to
advance him the money. What do you say to it?"

Jack sprang to his feet, and Cynthia enthusiastically threw her arms
about Aunt Betsey's neck.

"You dear thing!" she whispered. "And you look sweet in your new hair."
Upon which Miss Trinkett smiled complacently.

Mr. Franklin expostulated at first, but he was finally persuaded to give
his consent. So it was finally settled.

"I will lend you seventy-five dollars," said Miss Trinkett. "You may be
obliged to pay more than you think, and it's well to have a little on
hand in case of emergencies."


The next day Miss Trinkett took an affectionate farewell from her nieces
and nephews, promising to send Jack the money by an early date.

"And a book on raising poultry that my father used to consult," she
added; "I always keep it on the table in the best parlor. I'll send it
by mail. It's wonderful what things can go through the post-office
nowadays. These are times to live in, I do declare, what with chicks
without a mother and everything else."

Aunt Betsey was true to her word. During the following week a package
arrived most lightly tied up, and addressed in an old-fashioned,
indefinite hand to "Jackie Franklin, Brenton, Mass." Within was an
ancient book which described the methods of raising poultry in the early
days of the century, and inside of the book were seventy-five dollars in
crisp new bank-notes.

It was a week or two after the installation of the incubator that Edith
was seized with what Cynthia called "one of her terribly tidy fits."

"I am going to do some house-cleaning," she announced one beautiful
Saturday morning, when Cynthia was hurrying through her Monday's lessons
in a wild desire to get to the river. "Cynthia, you must help me. We'll
clear out all the drawers and closets in the 'north room,' and give away
everything we don't need, and then have Martha clean the room."

"Oh no!" exclaimed Cynthia; "everything in this house is as neat as a
pin. And we haven't got anything we don't need, Edith. And I can't. I
_must_ go on the river."

"You can go afterwards. You can spend all the afternoon on the river.
This is a splendid chance for house-cleaning, with the children off for
the morning. Come along, Cynthia--there's a dear."

Cynthia slowly and mournfully followed Edith up the stairs. She might
have held out and gone on the river, but she knew Edith would do it
alone if she deserted her, and Cynthia was unselfish, much as she
detested house-cleaning.

"I am going to be very particular to-day," said Edith, as she wiped the
ornaments of the room with her dusting-cloth and laid them on the bed to
be covered, and took down some of the pictures.

"More particular than usual?"

"Yes, ever so much. I've been thinking about it a great deal. In all
probability I shall always keep house for papa, and I mean to be the
very best kind of a house-keeper. I am going to make a study of it. The
house shall always be as neat as it can possibly be, and the meals shall
be perfect. Then another thing," pursued Edith, from the closet where
she was lifting down boxes and pulling out drawers. "I am going to be
lovely with the children. They are to be taught to obey me implicitly,
the very minute I speak. I am going to train them that way. I shall say
one word, very gently, and that will be enough. I have been reading a
book on that very subject. The eldest sister made up her mind to do
that, and it worked splendidly."

"I hope it will this time, but things are so much easier in a book than
out of it. Perhaps the children were not just like our Janet and Willy."

"They were a great deal worse. Our children are perfect angels compared
to them."

"Here they come now, speaking of angels," announced Cynthia, as the
tramp of small but determined feet was heard on the stairs and the door
burst open.

"Dear me, you don't mean to say you are back!" exclaimed Edith. "I
thought you were going to play out-of-doors all the morning."

"We're tired of it, and we're terrible hungry."

"An' we want sumpun to do."

"If this isn't the most provoking thing!" cried Edith, wrathfully,
emerging from the closet. "I thought you were well out of the way, and
here I am in the midst of house-cleaning! You are the most provoking
children--don't touch that!"

For Janet had seized upon a box and was investigating its contents.

"Go straight out of this room, and don't come near me till it is done."

"We won't go!" they roared in chorus; "we're going to stay and have some

Edith walked up to them with determination written on her face, and
grasped each child tightly by the hand. The roars increased, and Cynthia
concluded that it was about time to interfere.

"Come down-stairs with me," she said, "and I'll give you some nice
crackers. And very soon one of the men is going over to Pelham to take
the farm-horses to be shod. Who would like to go?"

This idea was seized upon with avidity. The three departed in search of
the crackers, and quiet reigned once more. When Cynthia came back Edith
said nothing for a few minutes. Then she remarked:

"Those children in the book were not _quite_ as provoking as ours, but I
suppose I ought to have begun right away to be gentle. Somehow, Cynthia,
you always seem to know just what to say to everybody. I _wish_ I did!
Janet and Willy both mind you a great deal better than they do me."

She was interrupted by a shout of joy from Cynthia.

"Edith, Edith, do look at this! Aunt Betsey's extra false front! She
left it behind. Don't you know she told me to put it away? It's a wonder
she hasn't sent for it. There, look!"

Edith turned with a brush in one hand and a dust-pan in the other, which
dropped with a clatter when she saw her sister.

Cynthia had drawn back her own curly bang, and fastened on the smooth
brown hair of her great-aunt. The puffs adorned either side of her rosy
face, and she was for all the world exactly like Miss Betsey Trinkett,
whose eyes were as blue and nose as straight as those of
fourteen-year-old Cynthia, who was always said to greatly resemble her.

"You're the very image of her," laughed Edith. "No one would ever know
you apart, if you had on a bonnet and shawl like hers."

"Edith," exclaimed Cynthia, "I have an idea! I'm going to dress up and
make Jack think Aunt Betsey has come back. He'll never know me in the
world, and it will be such fun to get a rise out of him."

Cynthia's enthusiasm was contagious, and Edith, leaving bureau drawers
standing open and boxes uncovered, hurried off to find the desired

Cynthia was soon dressed in exact reproduction of Aunt Betsey's usual
costume, with a figured black-lace veil over her face, and, as luck
would have it, Jack was at that moment seen coming up the drive. She
hastily descended to the parlor, where she and Edith were discovered in
conversation when Jack entered the house.

"Holloa, Aunt Betsey!" he exclaimed, as he kissed her unsuspectingly.
"Have you come back?"

"Yes, Jackie," said a prim New England voice with a slightly provincial
accent. "I thought I'd like to hear about those little orphan chicks,
and so I said to Silas, said I, Silas--"

Edith darted from her chair to a distant window, and Cynthia was obliged
to break off abruptly, or she would have laughed aloud. Jack, however,
took no notice. The mention of the chickens was enough for him.

"Don't you want to come down and see the machine? I say, Aunt Betsey,
you were a regular brick to send me the money. Did you get my letter?"

"Yes, Jackie, and I hope you are reading the book carefully. You will
learn a great deal from it, about hens."

"Yes. Well, I haven't got any hens yet. Look out for these stairs, Aunt
Betsey. They're rather dangerous."

This was too much for Cynthia. To be warned about the cellar stairs,
over which she gayly tripped at least a dozen times a day, was the
crowning joke of the performance. She sat down on the lowest step and
shouted with laughter. Jack, who was studying his thermometer, turned in

It was too good. Cynthia tossed up her veil, and turned her crimson face
to her brother.

"Oh, Jack, Jack, I have you this time! Oh, oh, oh! I never dreamed you
would be so taken in!" And she danced up and down with glee.

Jack's first feeling was one of anger. How stupid he had been! Then his
sense of the ludicrous overcame him, and he joined in the mirth,
laughing until the tears rolled down his face.

"It's too good to be wasted," he said, as soon as he could speak. "Why
don't you go and see somebody? Go to those dear friends of Aunt
Betsey's, the Parkers."

"I will, I will!" cried Cynthia. "I'll go right away now. Jack, you can
drive me there."

"Oh no!" exclaimed Edith. "They would be sure to find you out, and it
would be all over town. You sha'n't do it, Cynthia."

"They'll never find me out. If Jack, my own twin brother, didn't, I'm
sure they wouldn't. I'm going! Hurry up, Jack, and harness the horse."

Jack went up the stairs like lightning, and was off to the barn. All
Edith's pleadings and expostulations were in vain. Cynthia could be very
determined when she pleased, and this time she had made up her mind to
pay no attention to the too-cautious Edith.

She waved farewell to her sister in exact imitation of Aunt Betsey's
gesture, and drove away by Jack's side in the old buggy.

They drew up at the Parkers' door, and Jack politely assisted "Aunt
Betsey" from the carriage. He ran up the steps and rang the bell for
her, and then, taking his place again in the buggy, he drove off to a
shady spot, and waited for his supposed aunt to reappear.

"Don't be too long," he had whispered at parting.

It seemed hours, but it was really only twenty minutes later, when the
front door opened, and the quaint little figure descended the steps amid
voluble good-byes.

"So glad to have seen you, my dear Miss Trinkett! I never saw you
looking so well or so young. You are a marvel. And you won't repeat that
little piece of news I told you, will you? You will probably hear it all
in good time. Good-by!"

It was a very quiet and depressed Aunt Betsey who got into the carriage
and drove away with Jack, very different from the gay little lady who
had entered the Parkers' gates.

"Well, was it a success? Did she know you? Tell us about it," said Jack,

"Jack, don't ask me a word."

"Why? I say, what's up? What's the matter? Did she find you out?"

"No, of course not. She never guessed it. But--but--oh, Jack, she told
me something."

"But what was it?"

"I--I don't believe I can tell you!"




A Fourth-of-July Play in One Act.




     SCENE.--_Audience-chamber in the palace of the KING OF HEARTS. The
     thrones of the KING and QUEEN in the centre of the stage at back.
     Near the KING's throne a small gilded three-legged stool.
     Entrances R. and L. Three arm-chairs R. A bench L. At the rising
     of the curtain the JOKER is discovered seated on the KING's
     throne, leaning on one elbow, his rattle hanging idly in the other
     hand. He is apparently meditating. He speaks slowly, with a pause
     between each sentence._

JOKER. Peradventure it may seem improper for a fool to leave his lowly
place and climb upon the throne. But no one's here to say me nay; and by
my faith fools have sat on thrones before. What odds, then, if there's
one fool more or one fool less beneath the dais? To be sure, my crown's
a fool's cap and my sceptre's a rattle, and so, perhaps, not imposing;
but it pleases me to sit here and fancy myself a King. Nay, laugh not.
It's the province of a fool to be foolish. And verily am I not a king?
Am I not monarch of all I survey? In truth I am, for I survey nothing,
and am therefore King of Nothing. There's a title for you--his Majesty
the King of Nothing! (_Yawns and stretches and rises from the throne;
picks up his stool, places it near the front, and sits down._) In faith
the throne's no softer than the stool, and perhaps it is best for me to
cling to this. It affords at least one advantage over the King. If he
falls--and I fall--he gets the greater injury, for he tumbles from a
higher place. (_Laughs softly, and then sings:_)

  "For it's nonny, hey nonny, the Jester's song,
    It's nonny, hey nonny, hey oh!
  For it's nonny, hey nonny, no life is long;
    Oh, merry be ye here below!"

     [_As he sings the last line there is a loud noise of exploding
     fire-crackers behind the scenes, and the four KNAVES come tumbling
     in at the door L. in great confusion, all talking at once. The
     KNAVE OF HEARTS holds a lighted taper in his hand, and the other
     KNAVES carry fire-crackers and other fireworks under their arms._]

KNAVE OF SPADES. Thou didst it.

KNAVE OF HEARTS. Thou speakest false. 'Twas he.

[Illustration: "HEARTS DID IT!"]

KNAVE OF DIAMONDS. Never. Hearts did it.

KNAVE OF CLUBS. Hearts held the taper. He did it. Thou didst it.

KNAVE OF SPADES. Ay, ay, 'twas he.

KNAVE OF HEARTS. I say thee nay.

KNAVE OF DIAMONDS. He gives him the lie direct.

KNAVE OF CLUBS. I saw him. I saw him.

JOKER (_rising, shakes the stool in one hand, the rattle in the other,
and shouts_). Silence! silence, ye riotous varlets! What is this now?
What is it? Why all this noise and debate?

KNAVE OF HEARTS. Nay, Sir Joker, but it was the Knave of Spades.

KNAVE OF SPADES. Thou speakest false.

KNAVE OF DIAMONDS AND KNAVE OF CLUBS. Ay, ay, Hearts held the taper.

     [_The KNAVE OF HEARTS quickly blows out the taper and throws it
     away. The KNAVES all begin to talk to the JOKER at once. He stops
     his ears and shouts._]

JOKER. Silence, I beg of ye! Silence! What is it, I say?

THE FOUR KNAVES (_speaking all together_). Good Sir Joker, let me

JOKER. One at a time, I pray of ye! Now speak thou, Spades. What is this
alarum? Whither go ye? And what bear ye? And bearing what, whither do
you bear it?

KNAVE OF SPADES. Good Sir Joker, if you would ask but one question, and
that direct, making it simple too, it were the easier to give a reply.

JOKER (_sitting down again_). Troth, for a fat Knave thou speakest
plainly. 'Tis to be hoped thou canst hear as well. Now listen. Whither
go ye?

KNAVE OF SPADES. To the banquet hall.

JOKER. And what bear ye?


JOKER. Fireworks?

KNAVE OF SPADES. Indeed, fireworks.

[Illustration: "ART BLIND? CANST NOT SEE?"]

KNAVE OF HEARTS (_poking a large fire-cracker into the JOKER's face_).
Art blind? Canst not see?

JOKER (_much alarmed_). Away there, varlet, away!

KNAVE OF SPADES. Ay, fireworks, Sir Joker, for to-day 'tis the glorious

JOKER. To-day the Fourth of July?

KNAVE OF DIAMONDS (_to the other KNAVES in a mocking tone_). He was well
named "Fool."

KNAVE OF CLUBS. In truth he was; yet no name was necessary. 'Tis plain
writ upon his face.

     [_The KNAVES laugh loudly._]

JOKER. Marry, for a pack of rowdy varlets ye four do verily hold first
claim, although you rotund Knave of Spades doth possibly deserve
exemption. I prithee, Spades, whyfore all this preparation? Why these
fireworks? And why so many large red fire-crackers?

KNAVE OF SPADES. Have you not heard of the King's banquet?

KNAVE OF HEARTS (_sitting down on the bench and shaking his head
wearily_). Nay, Spades, ask him not. He has the ass's ears, but hears

KNAVE OF DIAMONDS. Or hearing, understands naught.

JOKER. By my halidame an ye ruffians bridle not your tongues, I will
even on this torrid night fall to and smite ye till ye whine like hounds
for mercy!

     [_Threatens them with his rattle._]

THE FOUR KNAVES. Oh, but that is a fierce threat!

     [_They nod their heads to one another in mock seriousness, and
     point at the JOKER with the big fire-crackers._]

JOKER. And now, Spades--?

KNAVE OF SPADES. Ay, Sir Joker, to-night the King and Queen of Hearts do
hold a sumptuous feast, and afterward there are to be fireworks galore.
To the banquet have been invited the King and Queen of Spades, the King
and Queen of Diamonds, and the King and Queen of Clubs.

JOKER. A right royal company, Spades.

KNAVE OF SPADES. Indeed right royal. And the feast too shall be right
royal. My liege the King of Spades brings with him his fiddlers three.

JOKER. So, so! Ha, ha! [_Sings._]

  "Old King Kole
    Was a merry old soul.
  A merry old soul was he;
    He called for his pipe,
    He called for his bowl,
  And he called for his fiddlers three."

KNAVE OF HEARTS. Nay, but methinks the Joker hath his rhyming mood
to-day. Sit thee down, Diamonds, and be a comfortable listener.

     [_The Knave of Diamonds sits down on the bench beside the Knave of

JOKER. It is meet that I should have my rhyming mood to-day; for at the
feast will there not be mirth and rhyme and wit?

KNAVE OF HEARTS. Ay, mirth and doggerel, Joker; but what wit there may
be thou'lt not answer for 't.

JOKER (_rising and shaking his fist_). I can answer for thee, though,
thou churl!

KNAVE OF HEARTS [_bowing_]. Gramercy, but I can answer for myself.

JOKER. And 'twill not be the first time. Methinks, as a thief thou hast
already been called upon to answer once. (_Sits down again._) And now,
Spades, I beg of thee, proceed.

KNAVE OF SPADES. There is little more to tell, Sir Joker, save that the
Queen of Hearts herself did fashion these huge fire crackers--eight of
them, that there should be one for a salute to each guest. We bear them
now to the banquet hall.

KNAVE OF DIAMONDS. Ay, and the quicker we go hence the wiser; for time
moves on apace, and the guests will soon be here.

JOKER (_rising from his stool and making a mock obeisance_). My
gratitude, gentle Knaves, for your varied courtesies. (_The KNAVES bow
and exeunt, R., in single file. JOKER puts his stool back in its place,
beside the throne._) Of two misfortunes, rather let me suffer that of
being a fool than a knave. The one knows nothing of the evil he does;
the other knows nothing of the evil he does not do. And methinks whether
of evil or of good those Knaves know but little of what they now
perform. They bear those explosive bombs to the banquet hall? Surely
they err. But of my affair it is none, and so I shall sagely hold my
peace upon it, and--tap my wit! For here come the King and Queen.

     [_Music. Enter the KING and QUEEN OF HEARTS, L., the JOKER bowing
     and dancing before them as they come. They take their seats upon
     the thrones._]

KING OF HEARTS. Well, Sir Joker, what was this riot that I lately heard?
What this odor of powder and saltpetre?

JOKER. The Knaves, my lord, the Knaves, the sorry Knaves. They did but
even pass this way toward the banquet hall, bearing fireworks. (_Sits
down in one of the arm-chairs, and juggles with his rattle._) They did
by mischance set off several of the pieces, and wellnigh scared me of
the possession of my wits.

KING OF HEARTS (_laughing_). Yet thou hast thy fool's cap still well on,
I hope?

JOKER. That I have, sire. So well on that even should you wish to borrow
it, you could not get it off.

KING OF HEARTS. Thou needst have no fear that I shall care to deprive
thee of that honor.

JOKER. Nay, but Kings have played the fool before.

KING OF HEARTS. True. And thou mayst well add--many a fool has played
the King.

JOKER. But do not accuse me, sire. I never played you. I do but play
upon you.

KING OF HEARTS. Thou playest upon me?

JOKER. Only to hear your sweet notes, my liege.

QUEEN OF HEARTS. Thou hast a well-turned speech to-day, Joker.

JOKER. Well turned, my Queen? Yet not so well turned as those giant
fire-crackers which you have fashioned for the feast. Those indeed are
royal bombs!

QUEEN OF HEARTS. Bombs? They are indeed harmless. There is nothing in
them, but I warned the Knaves to handle them carefully, saying they
might unexpectedly explode. [_Laughs._]

JOKER. And so, if they exploded, 'twould in truth be unexpected!

     [_As the JOKER finishes his speech, enter KNAVE OF DIAMONDS, L. He
     holds the portières up and announces in loud and formal tones._]


KNAVE OF DIAMONDS. Their Majesties the King and Queen of Diamonds.

     [_Music. Enter the KING and QUEEN OF DIAMONDS, L._]

KING OF HEARTS. Welcome, my cousin of Diamonds. Welcome this glorious
July day.

QUEEN OF HEARTS. Welcome, fair lady. "First come, best loved," is the
saying, you know--and ye are the first come. Pray be seated.

     [_At the entrance of the KING and QUEEN OF DIAMONDS the KING and
     QUEEN OF HEARTS rise to greet them. The KING OF DIAMONDS bows to
     the KING OF HEARTS and kisses the hand of the QUEEN OF HEARTS. The
     QUEEN OF DIAMONDS courtesies. She then sits down in an arm-chair,
     R., and the KING OF DIAMONDS takes his stand behind her. The KNAVE
     OF DIAMONDS drops the portière and sits on the bench._]

JOKER (_to QUEEN OF DIAMONDS_). Even the sun, fair lady--which is said
by the poets to shine brightest this fair month of July--even the sun
fails to outsparkle your priceless precious stones.

QUEEN OF DIAMONDS. Ah, you have a pretty wit, Sir Joker. But are they
not truly the most brilliant of jewels?

JOKER. The most brilliant of jewels, yes; but they pale before their
wearer's beauty.

     [_Takes his seat on the stool near the throne._]

     [_Enter, L., KNAVE OF CLUBS, who announces,_]

KNAVE OF CLUBS. Their Majesties the KING and QUEEN OF CLUBS.

     [_Music. Enter the KING and QUEEN OF CLUBS, L._]

KING OF HEARTS. Welcome, welcome, good Clubs. My best wishes, fair lady,
my best wishes!

QUEEN OF HEARTS (_to QUEEN OF CLUBS_). Greeting to you, and pray take
seat beside our cousin of Diamonds.

     [_At the entrance of the KING and QUEEN OF CLUBS, the KING and
     QUEEN OF HEARTS arise, as before. The KING OF CLUBS bows to the
     KING OF HEARTS, and kisses the hand of the QUEEN OF HEARTS. The
     QUEEN OF CLUBS courtesies. She then sits down in an arm-chair next
     to the QUEEN OF DIAMONDS, the KING OF CLUBS stands behind her, and
     the KNAVE OF CLUBS takes his place on the bench._]

QUEEN OF HEARTS. It is indeed a pleasure to have you here again. 'Tis
now many a long day since I have seen you.

QUEEN OF CLUBS (_fanning herself, and affecting an air of great
weariness_). Ah, dear lady of Hearts, you cannot conceive of my
perplexities. What with tournaments and levees and audiences at large,
the days do slip so swiftly by, giving me no pause for rest or recovery,
that I do find myself ending the week ere I realize it to have begun.

JOKER. Yet time, fair Queen, seems to have touched your comely brow with
a light finger. The winged hours fly swiftly past you, but yourself
dwell at the one sweet station of constant youthfulness.

QUEEN OF CLUBS (_haughtily_). So graceful a speech, Sir JOKER, were
worthy of a knight rather than of a fool.

JOKER. It is for the listener to detect when the fool speaks foolishly.
For he himself is too great a fool to judge of the burden of his speech.

QUEEN OF DIAMONDS (_superciliously, to QUEEN OF CLUBS_). Methinks his
words have a double edge.

JOKER (_to QUEEN OF DIAMONDS_). You wrong me, good lady, for he that
playeth with edged tools is most apt to cut himself.

     [_Enter, L., KNAVE OF SPADES, who announces,_]

KNAVE OF SPADES. Their Majesties the King and Queen of Spades.

     [_Music. Enter, L., in great haste, the KING and QUEEN OF

KING OF SPADES (_breathlessly_). Ah, I so greatly feared, my lord--

KING OF HEARTS. A hand to thee, cousin of Spades, a hand to thee, and

QUEEN OF HEARTS. And a fair day to you, good dame of Spades.


QUEEN OF SPADES (_panting_). Sweet cousin, we did so greatly fear to be
behindhand that we did hasten beyond all reason. I am quite forlorn of

QUEEN OF HEARTS. Seat you, seat you, good lady.

     [_The KING and QUEEN OF SPADES are very much out of breath, and
     very warm. The KING and QUEEN OF HEARTS arise in their entrance to
     greet them, but the KING and QUEEN OF SPADES are so overcome with
     excitement that they forget the conventionalities, and the QUEEN
     OF SPADES flops into the third arm-chair without making any
     courtesy. The KING OF SPADES takes his stand behind her, wiping
     his brow vigorously with his handkerchief, then suddenly remembers
     he has omitted to kiss the hand of his hostess. He hastens across
     the stage falling as he goes, and makes up for the omission. The
     KNAVE OF SPADES sits on the bench._]

QUEEN OF HEARTS. There, now, rest you easily, for there is small haste
for the feast.

KING OF SPADES (_still mopping his face and puffing_). I am much
relieved that we were not late on the banquet, King of Hearts. The
banquet should have waited on you, cousin.

KING OF SPADES (_pacing about the stage, nervously fanning himself;
occasionally he stumbles and falls_). Ay, but I might not so well have
waited on the banquet.

QUEEN OF SPADES. True, he hungers mightily.

     [_Fans herself vigorously with her handkerchief._]

QUEEN OF HEARTS (_to JOKER_). Sir Joker, the Queen of Spades suffereth
of her exertions. I beg of you seek a fan.

     [_JOKER bows, and exit R._]

QUEEN OF CLUBS (_aside to QUEEN OF DIAMONDS_). I marvel at the rapacity
of some folk.

QUEEN OF DIAMONDS. Verily one might think that there lacked meat and
cooks and scullions in the land of Spades.

QUEEN OF CLUBS. Nay, but I dare say they be short two scullions at the
present hour. [_They laugh._]


QUEEN OF CLUBS. I was saying that if haste might always so trim our
cheeks with color as that which now blooms upon the fair face of our
cousin of Spades, it were worth the discomfort of so great an energy.

     [_Enter JOKER, R. He presents fan to QUEEN OF SPADES, who fans
     herself boisterously._]

JOKER. Would I were a fan, that even my whispers might be of such
grateful reception to a lady's ear!

QUEEN OF SPADES. Not my ear, Sir Joker, not my ear. It is my nose that
reddens from my efforts.

KING OF SPADES (_wiping his brow and neck with his handkerchief_). And
as to me, it is my neck. 'Tis the pity of being stout.

JOKER. The neck, Sir King? Aha, but I warrant that even if it be moist
without, it is dry within.

KING OF SPADES (_with asperity_). Ay, marry, fool; but not so dry as thy

KING OF HEARTS. Come, come, cousin, heed him not. (_The JOKER moves over
to the throne of the QUEEN OF HEARTS, and enters into earnest
conversation with her._) It pleases me to hear you say you bring a good
appetite to the feast.

KING OF SPADES. Verily I feel as though I were one vast incarnation of

KING OF HEARTS. All the more honor will you do us, and we shall ever
recall this Fourth of July as one that pleased you. And the good lady of
Spades, has she too--

QUEEN OF HEARTS (_screams_). Ah, me! Ah, lackaday, lackaday! [_Faints._]

KING OF HEARTS. What is this? What is this? The Queen faints! A cup! a

to the QUEEN OF HEARTS' seat. They pat her hands and fan her_). Yes, a
cup, a cup!

     [_The three KNAVES rush out, R., tumbling over one another and
     shouting "Water, water!" The KNAVES return, one at a time, bearing
     glasses of water, but they are met each time by the KING OF
     SPADES, who takes the glass, goes half-way to the QUEEN OF HEARTS,
     and then, in his excitement, drinks the water himself. This
     "business" can be carried on while the ensuing dialogue is being

QUEEN OF HEARTS (_recovering herself_). Nay, nay, trouble not. I am
myself again. It was merely the Joker.

     [_The three QUEENS resume their seats._]

KING OF HEARTS (_angrily_). The Joker?

QUEEN OF HEARTS. Ay, he spake in my ear, and said--

KING OF HEARTS (_threatening the JOKER_). What, Sir Joker! Hast thou
dared to frighten or disturb the Queen?

QUEEN OF HEARTS (_expostulating_). Nay, nay, the Joker is good! Good Sir
Joker, tell the King. Tell them all, that they may know!

[Illustration: "WHAT IS THIS MYSTERY?"]

KING OF HEARTS (_sternly_). Come, Sir Joker, what is this mystery?

JOKER. There is no mystery, my lord. It is all but too plain. Her
Majesty the Queen, as you know, did fashion eight large fire-crackers of
fine red paper, the which were placed upon the board for the banquet. I
went to seek a fan for her Majesty of Spades, and in passing the banquet
hall curiosity did impel me to look in upon the tables. The
fire-crackers are not there, my liege. They have been purloined. They
have been stolen.

     [_Great excitement. The KINGS and QUEENS talk and gesticulate with
     one another._]

KING OF HEARTS. What? The fire-crackers are stolen?

JOKER. Ay, my lord, stolen.

KING OF SPADES. And will there be no fireworks after the feast?

KING OF HEARTS. And the thief?

JOKER. It is but left for us to guess.

KING OF HEARTS. And thou hast suspicion?

JOKER. True, my lord, I have.

KING OF HEARTS. Name him, Sir Joker.

ALL. Ay, name him--name him!

JOKER. Nay, nay, my liege. 'Twere unjust falsely to accuse--

KING OF HEARTS. Name him, Sir Joker!

ALL. Ay, name him!

JOKER. My lord--

KING OF HEARTS. Name him. I command thee!

JOKER. Hath no man stolen before?

KING OF HEARTS. Thou meanest--

JOKER. The Knave of Hearts.

ALL (_lifting their hands_). The Knave of Hearts!

KING OF HEARTS. The rascal Knave! Where is he? Come, come, I must have
him! He is not here? Then hale me hither that churlish lout, and heavily
shall he pay his sins! (_Exeunt the three KNAVES, L._) Aha! but there is
no cause for laughter here!

KING OF SPADES (_very much excited, throws himself in an exhausted
condition on the bench, L._). Laughter--laughter? Well, I should say
thee nay! Is the larder robbed?

QUEEN OF HEARTS. Nay, he has but taken the fire-crackers.

KING OF SPADES. The crackers--the crackers! Did he take the cheese too?

JOKER. Nothing else is gone.

King of Spades. Ah, fortune be praised!

QUEEN OF CLUBS (_to QUEEN OF HEARTS_). And did you fashion these

KING OF HEARTS. With her own hands she fashioned them.

JOKER. One for each guest.

QUEEN OF CLUBS. Indeed--indeed! And is the Queen as dexterous at the
fashioning of fire-crackers as she is at the baking of water-crackers
and other light confections?

QUEEN OF HEARTS. You are sweet so to flatter me.

QUEEN OF CLUBS. But I so well remember the Christmas pie.

KING OF SPADES. Pie! Where is the pie?

JOKER. It was eaten last Christmas, the pie.

KING OF SPADES. Oh, alack!

JOKER. But it was a noteworthy pie. I have rhymed upon it. Pray listen.

          "Sing a song of sixpence,
          A pocket full of rye,
  Four-and-twenty blackbirds baked in a pie;
          When the pie was opened
          The birds began to sing;
  Was not that a dainty dish to set before the King?"

KING OF SPADES. Indeed that must have been a toothsome dish.

     [_Noise and commotion without. Enter the KNAVES, L., two dragging,
     one pushing the KNAVE OF HEARTS. He is forced to his knees in
     front of the KING OF HEARTS' throne._]

KING OF HEARTS (_sternly_). There be severe accusations against thee,

KNAVE OF HEARTS. Oh, my King! I pray--


KING OF HEARTS. Silence, churl! Answer but my questions. Didst thou
steal the fire-crackers?

KNAVE OF HEARTS. Not "steal," my lord.

KING OF HEARTS. Didst thou steal the fire-crackers?

KNAVE OF HEARTS. I did but take them from the table.

KING OF HEARTS. Thou makest confession, then?

KNAVE OF HEARTS. My lord, my lord, I would but say one word in

KING OF HEARTS. Thou shalt say nothing. This is the second time thou art
taken a thief. Last summer thou didst steal the Queen's tarts, and now
thou takest the fire-crackers. Thou shalt pay for it with thine head!
Thou shall be blown up to-night upon a monster pile of fireworks.

KNAVE OF HEARTS. Mercy, my lord--mercy! Let me explain.

KING OF HEARTS (_to the other KNAVES_). Remove him.

     [_The KNAVE OF HEARTS is dragged out, L._]

QUEEN OF DIAMONDS. And did he steal once before?

KING OF HEARTS. That he did, and was therefore severely punished. I
myself did beat him full sore.

KING OF SPADES (_slapping KING OF HEARTS on the back_). Do it again,
cousin--do it again!

KING OF HEARTS (_approvingly_). That shall I! Thou speakest well. I beg
your patience, ladies; but I will beat this Knave before he dies.

     [_Exit KING, L., rolling up his sleeves._]

KING OF SPADES (_to QUEEN OF SPADES_). 'Tis fortunate he did but take
the fire-crackers. I should have grieved surely had they been tarts; for
tarts one may eat, but fire-crackers they be somewhat indigestible, I

QUEEN OF CLUBS. I had not heard of this previous theft.

QUEEN OF HEARTS. It was similar to this, fair cousin. And the Joker hath
likewise rhymed upon it.

QUEEN OF CLUBS. Indeed. And may we hear the verse, Sir Joker?

JOKER. It is a pleasure to sing it. [_Sings_]

    "The Queen of Hearts
    She baked some tarts
  All on a summer's day--"

     [_Sounds of beating without, and loud cries by the KNAVE OF HEARTS
     of "Ow!" "Ow!" "Mercy, my lord!" "Hold!" "Hear me!"_]

QUEEN OF SPADES. 'Tis evident the punishment hath begun.

QUEEN OF CLUBS. Oh, the poor Knave! the poor Knave!

     [_More sounds of beating and more cries. The KING OF SPADES
     becomes very much excited._]

KING OF SPADES (_shaking his fist in the direction of the cries_). Have
at him, good cousin of Hearts, have at him! Ah, but those are lusty
blows! By my halidame, I would fain witness that controversy! [_Slaps
his knee._]

JOKER. A most one-sided controversy, my lord.

KING OF SPADES. Nay, but I warrant the King doth lay it on both sides.
[_More beating and cries._]

JOKER. Ay, from the sounds, he doth lay it on. But, doubtless, it will
whet his appetite.

KING OF SPADES. His appetite? Now, by St. Dagobert, I have already an
appetite as I had beaten an hundred knaves!

JOKER. Then will it also be a one-sided controversy when you meet the
banquet board.

KING OF SPADES. I would fain go out and beat the Knave for causing this
delay. (_Sounds and cries._) Have at him! Have at him, sir! Now, a good
one for me, sir, a good one!

     [_The sounds and cries gradually cease._]

QUEEN OF CLUBS. Prithee, Sir Joker, finish your rhyme; you did but sing
the first lines.

JOKER (_sings_).

    "The Queen of Hearts
    She baked some tarts
  All on a summer's day;
    The Knave of Hearts
    He stole those tarts,
  And bore them far away.

    "The King of Hearts
    Called for those tarts,
  And beat the Knave full sore--"

     _Enter the KING OF HEARTS, L., somewhat out of breath, rolling
     down his sleeves, and followed by the KNAVES OF DIAMONDS, CLUBS,
     and SPADES._

KING OF HEARTS. Ah, but I did ply the rod right lustily! I am quite
aweary. [_Sits down._]

KING OF SPADES (_rubbing his hands_). We did much enjoy the music!

QUEEN OF HEARTS. Good spouse, I would beg one thing of thee. It being
the Fourth of July, and so our nation's birthday, spare the rogue his
life. Let him come before us again. You heard him say he would make
explanation. Let him come and speak. Perchance it is not too late for
him to make restitution.

KING OF HEARTS (_in astonishment_). Dost thou truly desire that the
varlet should be spared?

QUEEN OF HEARTS (_pleading_). Ay, truly, my lord. And I do especially
yearn for the return of the fire-crackers.

KING OF SPADES. Ay, cousin, if he would but return the fire-crackers,
hear him, I urge, hear him.

KING OF HEARTS (_to the three KNAVES_). Hale me hither that Knave again.
(_Exeunt the KNAVES, L._) I greatly doubt me, sweet lady, that the
thieving churl will return the crackers. He did not return the tarts.
But if he can and does return the fire-crackers, then at your request
will I spare him his life.

QUEEN OF HEARTS. You make me promise of that, my King?

KING OF HEARTS. You have my word upon it.

     [_Enter, L., the three KNAVES escorting the KNAVE OF HEARTS, who
     is very sore as a result of his beating._]

KING OF HEARTS. Knave, the Queen hath begged of me to let thee speak ere
the headsman seals thy lips forever.

KNAVE OF HEARTS. A blessing upon you, good lady.

KING OF HEARTS. And now speak what thou hast to say, and may thy words
be brief.

KNAVE OF HEARTS. My liege, I did not steal the fire-crackers. I did but
see them near the tapers, and I did fear lest they catch fire and
explode upon the table. Methought they were the daintier did they hold
some sweet contents, and so I took them and bore them off, and found
them void. So then I was about to bring them back to the banquet board,
when yon messengers did seize me and hale me roughly before your

KING OF HEARTS. And thou didst have intention to return them?

KNAVE OF HEARTS. Ay, verily, my liege. Verily I did. I plead now that I
be allowed to bring them to the board.

KING OF HEARTS. Speakest thou the truth, Knave?

KNAVE OF HEARTS. Every word is truth, sire.

KING OF HEARTS. Then go thou and seek the fire-crackers. (_To the other
KNAVES._) And go ye with him. (_To the KNAVE OF HEARTS._) The Queen
holds my word that if thou bringest them back, I spare thy life. Now
look to thyself. Away!

     [_Exeunt, L., the four KNAVES._]

JOKER. It is a cheap life that costeth but eight fire-crackers!

KING OF SPADES. Ay, but the fire-crackers be worth more than yon Knave's

QUEEN OF HEARTS. Come, speak no more of his life. It is no longer
forfeit. He hath promised restitution, and the King will bestow plenary

KING OF SPADES. Well, as for me, I am more anxious as to the crackers
than as to any Knave's life.

     [_Music. Enter, L., the four KNAVES, each bearing two large
     fire-crackers. There are tarts in each. The KNAVES sand side by
     side along the wall, L._]

KING OF SPADES. Aha, the fire-crackers, the fire-crackers!

QUEEN OF SPADES. And most wondrous, wondrous are they!

QUEEN OF DIAMONDS. Truly they be most marvellously fashioned.

KING OF HEARTS. Now, Knave, according to my promise, and because of the
gracious intercession of the Queen, thy life is spared, for thou hast
brought back the fire-crackers. Take them to the board. And if ever
again thou art taken a thief, thou needst not reckon thy life at the
hundredth part of a farthing.

KING OF SPADES. But, Sir King, the Knave did say he took the
fire-crackers that he might place somewhat therein.

KING OF HEARTS. True, I remember he said so. Hast thou placed aught
within them, Knave?

KNAVE OF HEARTS. Ay, my lord. When I did first purloin the Queen's tarts
last summer, methought to eat them. But being so sorely beaten by your
Majesty, I did refrain, and so kept the tarts uneaten. To-day I return
the tarts in the fire-crackers, thereby making double restitution to her
most charitable and generous Majesty the Queen of Hearts.

     [_The KNAVES open the fire-crackers and shake out the tarts into a
     tray held by the JOKER._]


[Illustration: "THE IDENTICAL TARTS!"]

KNAVE OF HEARTS. Ay, my Queen, the identical tarts.

QUEEN OF CLUBS. But they must be stale of the last summer?

JOKER. Nay, fair lady. These be royal tarts, and not of the general. Age
cannot stale them, nor can human possibility limit their infinite

QUEEN OF HEARTS. Taste them, fair cousins, taste them.

     [_The JOKER passes around the tarts; each player takes one._]

KING OF SPADES. And do I not taste? Do I have no tart?

QUEEN OF HEARTS. Ay, Sir King, there shall none go hungry here.

KING OF SPADES (_having taken a tart with each hand, bites out of each
in turn as he speaks_). Ah, a strawberry tart and a gooseberry tart. But
they be both most toothsome. Most excellent, most excellent, my lady of

QUEEN OF DIAMONDS. Verily they are as if they had but just come from the

QUEEN OF CLUBS. Most deliciously sweet.

QUEEN OF SPADES. So good I never tasted before.

KING OF HEARTS (_to KNAVE OF HEARTS_). It is well for thee, Knave, that
thou hast so wisely demeaned thyself. The return of the tarts cleanses
thee of all past evil-doing. Henceforth I hope thou wilt be, as before,
a good Knave, a strong Knave, and a loyal Knave. Good friends, let us
now to the banquet.

KING OF SPADES. A most laudable purpose!

     [The KING OF HEARTS offers his hand to the QUEEN OF HEARTS, and
     conducts her from the throne to the front of the stage. The three
     other QUEENS rise and group themselves in a semicircle behind the
     KING and QUEEN OF HEARTS. Thus, beginning from the right side of
     the stage, the characters stand in this order in the semicircle:

QUEEN OF HEARTS (addressing the audience).

  Kind friends, our play is done.
    The crackers are returned;
  Our end is won,
    The lesson's learned;
  And all that's left to do
    Upon this festive eve
  Is that we give to you
    Our thanks before you leave.
  But as you go, take this;
    It is not quite a moral--
  Yet the point you cannot miss,
    And so we shall not quarrel:

  'Tis well the Knave did not retain
    These things, but brought them back.
  'Tis good we made the King refrain
    From executing Jack,
  Else none could play at cards again
    Short one Knave in the pack.


The costumes of the Kings and Queens and Knaves should be made to
correspond as nearly as possible with the costumes of those characters
in a pack of playing-cards, the colors used being red, white, yellow,
and black. The Joker should be dressed in the regulation costume of a
court jester of the sixteenth century, with cap and bells. This player
should be selected with particular regard for his ability to enact the
part, which requires gracefulness, some ability to sing, and a careless,
debonair manner of speaking. If there are enough players available, the
spectacular effect of the piece can be greatly enhanced by adding
soldiers and court attendants to the speaking characters. The latter
should be dressed like the lower Heart cards of the pack. This effect
may be obtained by dressing the players in tunics (something like the
placards worn by the "sandwich-men" who display advertisements on the
streets), on which the face of the card may be easily represented with
pieces of red flannel cut into the shape of hearts. The stage decoration
should be entirely of hearts arranged in every conceivable combination.
The fire-crackers should be of papier-maché, and made so as to open at
one end. Such can be obtained at almost any confectioner's. The larger
they are, the better. The tarts should be real tarts. Portières should
be hung in the two entrances, and if possible should resemble ancient
tapestry. The effect of beating (when the King is punishing the Knave of
Hearts) is easily obtained by having some one behind the scenes beat a
rug or carpet with a cane--the louder the better. The fire-crackers in
the opening scene should be set off in an empty barrel behind the
scenes. The characters must remember that they are representing figures
on playing-cards, and should be careful always to take the attitudes
familiar to us on such cards. This is not required of the Joker. A
pianist can add greatly to the effect of the performance by playing
appropriate music at the entrance of the various characters, and at such
other periods of the performance as may seem proper.

The four royal couples are supposed to represent different human
characteristics. The Hearts are lovable, gentle, well-bred people. The
Diamonds are rich, overbearing persons, and the Queen should be decked
out with jewels. The Clubs represent social and political prominence and
arrogance, and should hold themselves accordingly. The Spades are the
exponents of the under-bred, uneducated, but well-meaning portion of
society. Thus the Knave of Spades should be a good-natured fat fellow,
meaning no harm, but not particularly comely or graceful.

If soldiers are added to the cast, they should enter with the King and
Queen of Hearts, and take up their positions along the back of the stage
at either side of the thrones. They should also stand by the doors, and
should take the parts assigned to the Knaves in the scene where the
Knave of Hearts is dragged before the King, and led away to be punished.
But the returning of the fire-crackers must be done by the four Knaves.

The players who take the parts of the red cards should, if possible, be
light haired, those who represent the black cards should be dark haired.

In the stage directions, R. stands for Right; L. for Left. The right and
left sides of the stage correspond to the right and left sides of the
spectators, not of the players.

       *       *       *       *       *

GEORGE. "Mamma, baby's a stupid little fellow: the other day he cried
for an hour, and then he didn't get it."


Any boy with ordinary intelligence and mechanical skill can build this
inexpensive and useful shooting-boat. Because it is called a
shooting-boat it does not mean that it can be used for shooting only; on
the contrary, a great many of these little boats are used for tenders to
cat-boats on Barnegat Bay.

[Illustration: THE LINES OF THE BOAT.]

First, procure two hemlock boards--being the cheapest--10 feet long.
Take off in the proper scale, from body plan of boat, Fig. 3, the
sections numbered 1, 2, 3, 4, etc. Instead of cutting out curve of deck,
as shown in body plan, make the part flat where the curve should be, as
shown in mould No. 6. Carefully draw them upon pieces of planed pine
boards. With a saw go over the lines and cut the sections out, taking
great care, as the shape of your boat will depend upon these sections.

Lay the hemlock boards on the floor, and nail strips across them,
leaving an opening of 8 inches between the boards. Turn the boards
over, and with pencil marks divide them at every foot, and fasten the
sections, narrower side up, strongly upon these boards in the order and
manner shown in Nos. 6 and 7. It is better to fasten the mould (planks
and sections) together with screws, as it will be easier to take apart
when done with, thus enabling the wood in it to be used in the
construction of the boat.

We will now commence on the boat proper. The work so far is only
preparatory, it being necessary to have the mould to hold the planking
of the boat in place until the braces and ribs can be put in. Take two
half-inch pine boards 10-1/4 feet long, and nail one lightly on each
side of the mould. With a fine gimlet bore a small hole through the
board where it meets the angles formed by each section, as shown in No.
7 on mould. Take the board off again, and bending a thin moulding so
that it passes through each gimlet hole, trace a pencil line around the
outside of the moulding. After having done this with the four lines of
holes, go over the pencil lines with a saw, and you have your side
planks finished. Nail one of these on each side of the mould narrower
ends to section No. 2, allowing the extra ends to project beyond 2,
driving the nails in the holes made the first time, using as few nails
as possible, and taking care that the upper edges of boards are on a
level with the upper edges of the sections.

Select a nice piece of wood--oak, if possible--18 inches long, 6 inches
wide by 3-3/4 inches thick, and make the horizontal stern-post (No. 9).
The side and half-breadth plans are shown in the cut, but to get section
through A B use section No. 1, body plan (Fig. 3) The rabbetting is
half-inch deep, and is intended to receive the side, deck, and bottom

Cut from a piece of three-quarter-inch plank the section numbered 11.
This is the stern-board. Withdraw the nails holding the side planks to
section 11 in the mould, and knock the section off the mould,
substituting for it the stern-board. You are now ready to put on the
bottom boards, which are of half-inch material. These are nailed on
crosswise, the ends of the boards resting on the top of the sides. Screw
on the stern-post, putting side B C uppermost.

We have now finished the shell of our boat, and we must dispense with
the mould before the work can continue. Having placed braces between
sides at M, N, and O, Fig. 2, carefully withdraw the nails that hold the
sides to the sections, and lift the mould out.

Take a three-quarter-inch board 10 feet 5 inches long by 4 inches wide,
and measure off from one of the ends two points 2 feet 4 inches and 4
feet 4-1/2 inches distant, respectively, marking these points with a
pencil. Between these points cut with a chisel a slot 1-1/4 inches wide,
extending through the board, and at each end, distant a half-inch from
end of slot, cut a hole 1 inch long and half an inch wide. Nail this
plank down the centre of the boat, inside, nailing it securely and with
plenty of nails to the bottom boards, where the slot is cut in the plank
(keelson). Now, with a chisel, continue the slot through the bottom
boards. Take two pieces of wood 2-1/2 inches wide, 1-1/4 inches thick,
and 12-3/4 and 10-7/8 inches in length, respectively, and cut them at
one end, so that they will fit tightly in the little slots in keelson,
and put them in place, the shorter one nearest bow (No. 5) Cut out deck
beams B and C, fastening them at B and C, and knock away braces.

To get the curve of the deck beams A, B, and C (Fig. 2), we will take
curve of A. To proper scale draw a line equal to width of boat at A.
Measure height from gunwale to crown of deck at A, and draw a
perpendicular at centre of line equal to this distance. Describe an arc
touching the extremities of the line and passing through the top of the
perpendicular, and this arc is the curve desired.

[Illustration: DETAILS OF THE BOAT.]

We will now plank the centreboard trunk, and this should be done with
care, as there is nothing more annoying and troublesome than a leaky
trunk. Put in brace A, which is in two pieces, extending from each side
of trunk to gunwale. Nail on the keelson, alongside the board trunk, two
strips of wood, which will serve as braces for the trunk. At the top,
nail between A and B two strips of wood to support the top of trunk,
making the upper edges of these braces come half an inch above the deck
beams. Now fasten in the beams at sections 4 and 5, taking the curves of
the beams from the respective sections. Make mast step, and bolt it to
the middle of keelson. Take a piece of wood 2 feet 6 inches long, 6
inches wide, cut a hole in the centre of it, and shape and fit it in at
D (Fig. 2). This is to serve as the mast brace. Cut from a piece of
three-quarter-inch board two pieces of wood 3 feet 9 inches long and 2
inches thick, and fasten them between beams B and C, one on each side,
and eighteen inches from the centre of the boat. Put in deck beams 6, 7,
8, and 9 from gunwale to these frames, taking the curves for the
requisite length from the respective sections. Put in the rest of deck
beams. Now with half-inch boards plank the deck. Between 6 and 7, 8 and
9, on each side, fit in a piece of three-quarter-inch board, which is to
hold the oarlocks.

Take a quarter-inch board, 4 inches wide, and cut from it two pieces
3-3/4 feet long. These will form the side coaming of the cockpit,
screwing them on so that their bottom edges shall be flush with bottoms
of cockpit braces, M' N'(Fig. 2). From a piece of quarter-inch plank cut
the two pieces of end coaming, making these follow the curve of the
deck, and projecting 1-1/2 inches above it.

Cut from a piece of 1-3/4-inch stuff the oarlocks shown in No. 12.
Through centre of raised part bore hole to receive iron ring. Screw
projection at top to lock. The lock is now completed, and the next thing
is to secure it to the deck of the boat with bolts. The skag comes next.
Out of a three-quarter-inch board cut the pattern shown in Fig. 1, and
with bolts and screws secure it to the boat's bottom in the position
shown in Figs. 1 and 2. From a piece of oak 15 inches long, 2 inches
wide, and three-quarters of an inch thick cut the stern-post shown in
No. 10, and fasten it, broader side on stern-board and narrower side on
end of skag. Screw in the stern-post the rudder braces, making one on
narrow end 1-1/2 inches from end, and the other 10-1/2 inches above

Give the deck of your boat a good coat of paint, and after it has dried
tack heavy canvas over it. The centreboard is of the "dagger" pattern so
commonly seen in the small bateau and skiff on the Shrewsbury River and
vicinity. Fig. 1 shows all the essential points. The rudder is of
seven-eighths-inch plank, and after a careful study of No. 4 its
construction can be readily understood.

The hull of the boat is now complete, and we will turn our attention to
the rigging. The mast is 7 feet 3 inches long, and 2-1/2 inches thick at
the deck, tapering towards the top. The boom is 9 feet 1 inch in length,
excluding jaws, and should be about the same thickness throughout the
whole length, having only a slight taper towards the end. Each jaw
should be made of a separate piece of wood, in shape shown in No. 2, and
fastened to boom in manner shown in cut. The sprit is a
three-quarter-inch pole 9 feet 9 inches long.

The sail is the next thing to attend to, and being quite small, may be
made at home. Its dimensions are: along the mast, 5 feet; on boom, 9
feet; top, 5 feet; from end of boom to end of sprit, 11 feet 4-1/2
inches. The general shape may be taken from drawing, and it will be
necessary to give only a few hints in addition. The extra patches seen
at corners of sail are pieces of heavy canvas put there to prevent it
from ripping, the heaviest strain coming at the corners. The eyelets at
the corners had best be formed by first cutting a round hole in the
canvas, and then, with an "over-and-over" stitch, sewing a small iron
ring in the hole. The edges are bound with strips of canvas enclosing a
small cotton rope. The sail is laced to mast and boom in manner shown in
cut, and in No. 3 is seen the manner of slinging lower end of sprit,
whilst the upper end, which is sharpened, is poked through the eyelet.

To reef the sail it is only necessary to remove the sprit, and this will
reduce the area of the sail nearly half. The sheet rope is rigged in the
manner shown in No. 8, the boom block being fastened at Y (No. 1), boom
rope at Z, and the snap-hook caught in the staple P in deck (Fig. 1). To
take down sail, unhook snap-hook, take out sprit, raise boom up
alongside the mast, and lift the mast out.


The controversy over Ehrich, the Harvard School catcher, has been
settled by the I.S.A.A. Executive Committee, and the championship
pennant has been awarded to the protested nine. More inconsistent and
illogical action could not have been taken, and the way it was done
reflects little credit upon the dignity of the association.
Controversies such as this one are always regrettable; but when they do
arise they ought to be settled upon their merits, and all personal
feeling in the matter should be disregarded. Ever since De La Salle
protested Ehrich, the delegates from the various schools to the I.S.A.A.
have dodged around the question to be decided by them, and have adopted
a policy of irresolution and delay. Several meetings have been called,
but not until this last one was there a quorum present--and this was a
quorum with a very small q. The delay between the time the protest was
filed and the day the decision was made was put to very good use by the
Harvard scholars. They did what politicians would call "some tall
lobbying." They did it to such good effect that the vote stood 15 to 5
in favor of Ehrich.

The arguments advanced by them in favor of their man were truly amusing,
and none but the most obliging of delegates would have consented to
allow the wool to be so gracefully pulled over their drooping eyes.
These arguments were to the effect that although Ehrich had spent a year
in the sub-Freshman class of the College of the City of New York, he had
failed to pass his entrance examinations into the Freshman class in
1894. Nevertheless, he was admitted to that class, and remained a member
of it until the Christmas term examinations, when he failed again, and
so left C.C.N.Y. for the more congenial precincts of the Harvard School.
Therefore, according to the Harvard representatives, Ehrich was never
really a member of the C.C.N.Y. Freshman class, because he did not pass
his Christmas examinations. The mere fact that he attended recitations
with the class, and enjoyed other privileges of Freshmen, has nothing to
do with the case. This is inconsequential, and the De La Salle men were
really drawing the line too fine when they referred to it. At least so
must have thought the members of the I.S.A.A. committee, for they so
decided. If Ehrich had passed his examinations he would have gone on
with his class at C.C.N.Y. This was no doubt his intention before

But the incident is closed now. Harvard School has the pennant, and the
whole matter may as well be dropped. I don't suppose the members of the
I.S.A.A. committee feel very proud of their work. They find themselves
now in a peculiar position. By awarding the championship to Harvard they
practically admit that they had no business sending the De La Salle nine
to represent the League at Eastern Park four weeks ago. Their only
justification for sending that team to Brooklyn would have been to award
them the championship. But in all these incidents some lesson is to be
learned. From this one I think we can gather that protestors should not
wait until the last moment to make their objections, unless, of course,
the act to be protested is not committed until this very last moment
arrives. Another lesson is that executive committees ought to attend to
their business promptly, and decide knotty points in time for their
decision to be of some value--not a month after the contest to be
affected has been settled.

The standing of the several nines in the N.Y.I.S.B.B. League, according
to the games played, is therefore as follows:


  April 23.--Harvard, 8; Berkeley, 7.
  April 30.--Woodbridge, by default from Columbia Inst.
  May 7.--Columbia Gram., 30; Barnard, 4.
  May 14.--Harvard, 15; Woodbridge, 0.
  May 21.--Harvard, 19; Columbia Gram., 1.


  April 25.--Condon, 20; Columbia Inst., 19.
  May 2.--Cutler, 7; Drisler, 3.
  May 9.--De La Salle, by default from Hamilton.
  May 16.--Cutler, 13; Condon, 0.
  May 23.--De La Salle, 25; Cutler, 5.


  May 31.--Harvard, 12; De La Salle, 8.

The Harvard School team suffered no defeat, and had to play three games
to win the first section series. The De La Salle team had only one game
to play to win the second section, Hamilton defaulting on May 9th. Few
of the games were close or exciting, as most of the scores will show,
and it is to be hoped that next year a greater interest will be
displayed in our national sport.

The authorities at St. Paul's School, Concord, go to the opposite
extreme, in matters connected with outdoor sport, from the course
adopted by many other large schools. I mean in regard to publicity. In
New York, especially, many principals of schools believe that the
welfare of the institutions over which they preside is best promoted by
a reasonable amount of newspaper notoriety. The students at those
schools hold the same opinion; and as a result we read a good deal about
what is going on in the scholastic circles in this city, and we
constantly see portraits of the rising young athletes printed in the
daily papers. In Boston they go even further. For a column about schools
printed in New York there is a page printed in Boston. The faces of the
school athletes there are as well-known to the public as those of the
most prominent amateurs or professionals. Too much of that sort of
thing, of course, is bad, because there are young men who are thus led
to believe themselves much more important than they are. Really, the
worth of a man in this world--no matter what his sphere in life may
be--is not gauged by the number of inches he can occasionally command in
a double-leaded column with a spread head and a portrait.

The vice-rector of St. Paul's is of the conviction that school sports of
late have run wild, and that the best way to keep them within bounds is
to avoid any publicity whatever. I agree with the vice-rector that this
is a good enough way, but I am not at all of the opinion that it is the
best way. Newspaper enterprise and competition have become so great of
late that it is very difficult to withhold from the public any matter of
real importance. If one paper does not get it, another will. If the
newsgatherer does not obtain all the facts, there will be just enough
printed to give an erroneous and unfortunate impression to the reader.
It is my opinion that a regulated publicity is best. Any newsgatherer
who feels confident that he is getting just as much as his neighbor, and
that the information given to him is reliable, will never abuse the
privilege by making sensational use of the material. It is usually when
information is withheld that sensationalism is called in. The reading
public wants something, and the paper that has not got facts to give
cooks up something as a substitute. The man who withheld the facts
seldom likes the substitution.

These reflections have been called up by the reminiscence of the manner
in which the Halcyon and Shattuck boat club races of St. Paul's were
conducted three weeks ago. They were held on June 11th, at eleven
o'clock in the morning; but as this fact had been withheld from public
knowledge the spectators were practically limited to the boys of the
school. Of course that is just what the vice-rector wanted. But is he
right in this? Why not let the good people of Concord stand upon the
shores of Penacook Lake and watch the race between these crews of
healthy American boys? Is there anything about sport, as conducted at
St. Paul's School, that the vice-rector, or any one else, should be
ashamed of? Of course not! Then why not be open and aboveboard about it?
Why race when the townsman's back is turned? Why deprive him of a little
healthful cheering and an inspiriting sight? He would surely be the
better for it, and the St. Paul's crew would be none the worse.

The races this year were most interesting, and one incident of the
six-oared race was thrilling. At a point about half-way down the course,
while the Shattucks and the Halcyons were still about even, Oglebay, who
was rowing No. 2 in the Shattuck boat, broke his oar-lock. Of course his
muscle was of no further avail, and thenceforth he could be but a
passenger, so he did what every level-headed oarsman does under the
circumstance--he leaped into the water. He was picked up by a boat near
by. But with only five men the Shattucks were unable to win. It is a
sandy thing to do, this jumping into the water from a racing-shell, and
while Oglebay is entitled to praise for leaping, he would most certainly
have deserved censure if he had not jumped. In the race between Yale and
the Atalanta crew on New Haven Harbor, in 1890, Phil Allen, stroke and
captain, broke his oar and jumped into the sea. He was picked up by the
referee's tug, and stood at the bow dripping wet as he watched his seven
men defeat the crack amateur crew of New York. Allen got his training at
St. Paul's--in fact, most of the best oarsmen of Harvard and Yale
learned to row on Lake Penacook.

The first race of the day at this regatta was a contest between the
Halcyon and Shattuck four-oared shells, which was easily won by the
former, in 11 min. 21 sec. by about six lengths. The second race was the
one in which Oglebay jumped, and the last was the contest for the school
championship between the two eight-oared crews of the same clubs. The
outcome replaced the Shattuck blue above the Halcyon crimson--the latter
having been the champions for the past four years. The Shattuck stroke
started at 39 to the minute, but soon fell to 37, and about half-way
down the course dropped to 36. The winning crew led the entire distance,
and their time was 9 min. 14-1/2 seconds.

Rowing as a scholastic sport has never been much practised in this
country except at St. Paul's School, which aims rather more than any
other American institution to follow the manners and customs of our Eton
and Rugby cousins. And, as far as following the athletic customs and
usages of the Britons is concerned, they could not do better at Concord,
or anywhere else. There have been races every year on Lake Penacook
since 1871, when the Halcyon crew defeated its rivals over a one-mile
course in 8 min. 32 sec. But St. Paul's has peculiar advantages for the
sport that other schools are deprived of. Years ago there was rowing at
St. Mark's School, Southboro', but it was given up for a number of
reasons. The sport is to be resumed, however, next spring: but the
contests will be inter-class affairs. The day when we shall see
interscholastic boat-races is far distant, I am afraid; although there
is no reason why it should be.

Exeter and Andover used to row, too; but I don't remember that there
ever was an Exeter-Andover race. Exeter is situated near enough to the
sea to feel tide-water; and the Swamscott River is very broad near the
town. Above it is dammed off, and the upper portion is locally known as
Fresh River. The rowing used to be done on Salt River, below the dam.
Shells were sent up to the school Athletic Association by Yale and
Harvard, who were anxious to encourage the sport so as to obtain good
material for their own crews, and for a number of years there were class
races in the fall and spring. But after the novelty of the thing had
worn away, and no race was arranged with Andover, interest flagged, and
in 1883 or 1884 the sport was abandoned, and the old boat-house was left
to decay and fall to pieces. The colleges sent shells to Andover, too,
and there was some desultory rowing there for a few years, but it was
finally abandoned ten or twelve years ago, probably for the same reason
that Exeter gave it up--because no interscholastic contest was arranged.
It is to be hoped that it will be revived, for there is no better sport
on the calendar, and, from a spectacular point of view, it is far ahead
of many games that now enjoy wide popularity.


  Events.                        Winners.                 Performance.

  100-yard dash             A. Kraenzlein, E.S.               10-2/5 sec.
  120-yard hurdle           A. Kraenzlein, E.S.               17-3/5  "
  220-yard dash             C. Meyst, S.S.                    24-3/5  "
  220-yard hurdle           A. Kraenzlein, E.S.               27-4/5  "
  440-yard run              E. Baer, M.A.                     53-3/5  "
  880-yard run              A. Donkle, M.H.-S.          2 m.  14-1/5  "
  Mile run                  A. Donkle, M.H.-S.          5 "      3/5  "
  Mile walk                 F. Shepard. M.H.-S.         9 "   36      "
  Putting 12-lb. shot       A. Kraenzlein, E.S.        37 ft.  7-1/2 in.
  Throwing 12-lb. hammer    R. Worthington, W.H.-S.   103  "  11      "
  Running high jump         A. Kraenzlein, E.S.         5  "   6-1/8  "
  Running broad jump        Clifford, M.H.-S.          20  "   6      "
  Pole vault                { Smith, E.H.-S.     }
                            { Doolittle, E.H.-S. }     10  "     1/2  "

  Events.                      Second.                 Third.

  100-yard dash             J. Fox, M.A.            C. Meyst, S.S.
  120-yard hurdle           J. Fox, M.A.            C. Kratsch, S.S.
  220-yard dash             M. Price, Edg.          A. Blodgett, E.S.
  220-yard hurdle           S. Lyle, M.H.-S.
  440-yard run              A. Blodgett, E.S.       Berryman, M.H.-S.
  880-yard run              B. Steinel, E.S.        Mueller, S.S.
  Mile run                  P. Estes, S.S.          K. Martin, M.A.
  Mile walk                 H. Helms, S.S.          Brown, M.H.-S.
  Putting 12-lb. shot       Worthington, W.H.-S.    Knapp, M.H.-S.
  Throwing 12-lb. hammer    Schilling, M.H.-S.      Knapp, M.H.-S.
  Running high jump         J. Fox, M.A.            Wilson, W.H.-S
  Running broad jump        Trott, W.H.-S.          Wilson, W.H.-S.
  Pole vault                                        Lean, W.H.-S.

Firsts count 5. Seconds 3. Thirds 1.

E.S., East Side, Milwaukee. S.S., South Side, Milwaukee. M.A., Milwaukee
Academy. M.H.-S., Madison High-School. W.H.-S., Whitewater High-School.
E.H.-S., Evansville High-School. Edg., Edgerton High-School.

The accompanying table shows what records were made by the athletes of
the Wisconsin I.S.A.A. at their first annual field day which occurred on
June 8th, on the campus of the University of Wisconsin at Madison. The
8th day of June was a great one for track and field sports all over the
country, apparently. For a youngster this Wisconsin association is in a
flourishing condition, and great is its prowess. Ten schools constitute
its membership, and nearly one hundred entries were down on the
programme for the field day. The Milwaukee East Side High-School took
first place with 32 points, 25 of which were made by Kraenzlein, who won
five firsts. He is a promising all-round athlete. When it is taken into
consideration that he ran his three races within an hour or so, such
time as 10-2/5 sec. for the 100, 17-3/5 sec. for the high, and 27-4/5
sec. for the low hurdles is remarkable. These records will doubtless
stand at Madison for some years to come.


The day after to-morrow will be another great day for outdoor sports.
The biggest field meeting in the neighborhood of New York will be that
of the New Jersey Athletic Club at Bergen Point. Several of the school
athletes who have made records for themselves the past season have
entered, and if they manage to do as well as they did at Travers Island
on the 15th of last month they will soon establish a high reputation.
Baltazzi will jump, but only high enough to win. He has been training
hard lately, and can do six feet now beyond question. But he is keeping
these extra inches up his sleeve for the Britishers in September.


[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

Warm? Well, what else can we expect? Here it is July, with our thoughts
all flying out like banners in the breeze toward the day of which we are
proudest in the whole year, The Fourth! No other day has "the" before
it, and no other has so splendid a meaning for us Americans. I never
think of it without a thrill of joy, and a sort of happy "Hail Columbia"
feeling, and no matter how sultry it may be I want to go to the piano
and play

  "My country 'tis of thee,
  Sweet land of liberty--
      Of thee I sing;
  Land where my fathers died,
  Land of the pilgrims' pride,
  From every mountain-side
      Let freedom ring!"

In my childhood we used to keep Independence Day in a very patriotic
spirit. Waking in the morning, our eyes saw flags and festoons of
bunting--the red, white, and blue--interwoven with evergreens on
churches, houses, and lamp-posts. Scaffolds were erected from which
eloquent speakers addressed open-air meetings, churches held services,
and everybody, young and old, listened to the Declaration of
Independence read by some Senator, or ex-Governor, or other
distinguished personage. The Sunday-schools walked in procession, all
the girls in white, with badges or sashes of the dear colors we loved,
the boys with white duck trousers, and blue jackets with brass buttons,
and they had badges too. It was really fine. Soldiers and martial
music--bugles, drums, fifes, playing their loudest--picnics, and
fire-crackers galore signalized the day, which was further endeared to
children by cherry-pie at dinner, and ice-cream following fireworks in
the evening. Tired and happy we went to bed, and we were confirmed by
these delightfully patriotic Fourths in our love of country.

Florence and Eva, looking languidly up at this point, observe that the
Fourth in these days is too warm for so much exertion.

It is very much as one looks at it whether one is to suffer or enjoy
most during the summer. Fretting and fidgeting and violent fanning add
to one's discomfort. To go right on with one's work, and neither think
nor care for the heat, often enables one to forget it, and if the mind
be only held superior, the body does not so much mind being too warm or
too cold. Some foolish people actually fuss and fume themselves into
fevers, when summer is reigning in her bounty, ripening fruits and
grains, and giving us her splendid skies and sunsets.

To keep the house cool in July, air it thoroughly in the early morning,
then close the windows and screen doors, and darken bedrooms and
parlors. A dark closed room will be comfortable at mid-day. Select a
cool window, or a corner of the veranda, and carry your books and sewing
there, or establish yourself under a tree. Eat cold dishes and ripe
fruit. Fan moderately. Do not drink quantities of iced water. Do not let
yourself be annoyed or vexed with any one. Bathe at least twice a day,
and think pleasant thoughts.

A lawn party is charming for a late afternoon in summer. Invite your
friends to come from five to eight o'clock. Spread rugs on the grass,
and bring out some small tables and rocking-chairs. For refreshments
have lemon sherbet, sponge-cake, ice-cream, snow-pudding, iced tea or
coffee, thin sandwiches, or anything else you like. Play lawn-tennis or
croquet, or any other game you choose.

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[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.
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The course this week to be described is the third stage from New York to
Albany on a reasonably slow plan of movement. The first two trips, which
have already been described in the ROUND TABLE, are from New York to
Tarrytown, and from Tarrytown to Poughkeepsie. The third stage then
continues from Poughkeepsie to Hudson, a distance of somewhat over forty
miles. Starting from the Nelson House, at Poughkeepsie, at the top of
the hill running up from the river, the rider runs out of Poughkeepsie
on the Albany Post Road to Albany, following the telegraph wires six
miles to Hyde Park. From this point the run up to Blue Stores,
altogether twenty-six or twenty-seven miles, the road cannot be
mistaken, and over these twenty-seven miles it is as fine a stretch of
bicycling journey as one could well desire. There are almost no hills,
with the exception of a small stretch, which is rolling country and not
difficult. The Madeline House at Red Hook is a good resting-place, and
the rider on the journey passes through Staatsburg, Rhinebeck, Red Hook,
Upper Red Hook, Cleremont, and thence, after a two-mile run, enters Blue
Stores. From this point on to Hudson, a distance of eleven or twelve
miles, there are more hills, though no very bad ones, and the road is
not so good. It is six and three-quarter miles to McKinstryville. On
leaving Blue Stores the rider should keep to the left around the hotel,
and the road is then direct to McKinstryville. The road-bed is of clay,
and is rather poor, though it improves as you approach McKinstryville.
Out of McKinstryville the road runs direct to Hudson, about five miles
away. It is sandy, with occasional bits of loam, and is by no means as
good riding as from Poughkeepsie to Blue Stores.

It will be noticed by looking at the map that the best bicycle route,
which is, of course, the Albany Post Road, keeps on the higher ground,
somewhat back from the river, after leaving Staatsburg. This is the road
that is, on the whole, wiser for the wheelman to take. It is, however,
possible, and to one who is anxious to see the country and the places of
historic interest, it would perhaps be more pleasant to turn to the left
about two and a half to three miles out of Staatsburg, and run down to
the river on the road marked as a fair bicycle road. This route can be
followed without description by carefully studying the map. It keeps the
Hudson in view most of the time, passes through Rhinecliffe, Barrytown,
Annandale, Tivoli, East Camp, Germantown, North Germantown, Burden,
Catskill Station, and runs into Hudson near the two best hotels in the
town--the Worth House and the Hotel Lincoln. Furthermore, if the rider
is making a trip to Albany by much slower stages, and thus giving
himself time to make somewhat extended detours, he can stop along this
road at Rhinecliffe, at Tivoli, and at Catskill Station, and make short
trips across the river and into the country on the other side. Indeed,
if the time is at his disposal, this is much the most interesting method
to follow, and any wheelman who plans to take the Albany trip is
vigorously urged to make it a matter of a week rather than of two or
three days. There are good hotels at Tivoli; the Blue Stores Hotel at
Blue Stores is a reasonably comfortable stopping-place. The points of
especial interest along the way are Vassar College (1); Hudson River
State Hospital (2); St. Stephens College (3); North Bay, where the first
steamboat was built by Fulton and Livingston (4); New York State
Reformatory for Women (5).

     NOTE.--Map of New York city asphalted streets in No. 809. Map of
     route from New York to Tarrytown in No. 810. New York to Stamford,
     Connecticut, in No. 811. New York to Staten Island in No. 812. New
     Jersey from Hoboken to Pine Brook in No. 813. Brooklyn in No. 814.
     Brooklyn to Babylon in No. 815. Brooklyn to Northport in No. 816.
     Tarrytown to Poughkeepsie in No. 817.

[Illustration: THE CAMERA CLUB]

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



For the amateur who has not that luxury of the photographer, running
water, the arranging of the dark-room may be made to suit his own
convenience, and not that of the water-tap. In the room devoted to
photography, the developing-table should be placed on the side of the
room opposite the window. This table or shelf should be low enough so
that the operator may sit down while at work. A convenient size for all
processes of ordinary amateur photography is a table 2-1/2 feet long by
1-1/2 feet wide.

One often sees directions for arranging tanks with faucets, and sinks
with removable drains, to supply the want of running water, but these
elaborate and often ineffectual contrivances are not at all necessary,
as the photographic editor has proved by experiment. Two ordinary wooden
pails filled two-thirds full of water, the one for rinsing the plate
after development and before placing in the hypo, and the other in which
to place the plates after they are taken from the hypo, answer every
purpose, and are much less trouble to manage than the complicated
substitutes for running water.

At each end of the table have a wooden box on which to set the pails of
water when developing plates. The pail at the right hand can be used to
rinse the developer from the plate, and the one at the left to place
them in after they are developed, until all are finished.

One should have a negative washing-rack, which can be made according to
directions given in Papers for Beginners, No. 4; for after the plates
are all developed they can be lifted out of the pail, and the water
changed without danger of breaking the plates or scratching the soft

It is a good idea to have a small shelf about three inches above the
table, just large enough to hold the lantern.

At the right hand of the table should be shelves for the chemicals,
developing-trays, glass graduates, and all things used in developing. On
the upper shelf place the bottles containing the chemicals used in
developing plates and in sensitizing paper. Every bottle should be
labelled in large, clear letters. A set of labels on which are printed
the names of all the chemicals in general use in the dark-room may be
bought for ten cents. The bottles must be carefully wiped after using.
To prevent the chemicals running down the outside of the bottles and
staining the labels, coat the rim of the bottle with melted paraffine
wax, which can be applied with a brush.

At the end of the shelf holding the chemicals cut two deep square
notches in which slip the glass graduates when not in use, turning them
bottom side up, in the same way chemists do in their laboratories.

The shelf below the chemicals can be used for the trays, which must be
rinsed and wiped each time after using, and turned bottom side up to
keep out dust.

On the opposite side of the room have the shelves for dry plates,
printing-paper, printing-frames, toning-solutions, and pigeon-holes for
negatives. The pigeon-holes, which are easily made, should be 4-1/2
inches square by 5-1/2 inches deep. This size pigeon-hole will hold
twenty-five negatives. As soon as one has made a good negative it should
be placed in a stout manilla envelope, numbered, named, and any notes in
regard to it which one wishes to remember, all written on the outside.
The negatives should be stored in order in the pigeon-holes, and each
one marked with the numbers of the negatives which it contains, thus: 1
to 25; 26 to 50.

The number and name of every negative should be recorded in a small
blank-book, which is the negative catalogue. Tie a string in this book,
and hang it on a nail or hook at one end of the pigeon-holes, and have
the string long enough so that the book can be used without taking it
from the hook. The marking and storing of negatives in this way save
hours of time spent in searching for some particular negative.

A drawer in the table is very convenient for holding little articles,
and several pegs or hooks are needed on which to hang up those articles
which can be hung up. Keep your dark-room in such good order that it
will be a pleasure to work in it.

Negative envelopes printed on the outside: No. ----, Name ----, Notes
----, can be bought for twenty-five cents a hundred.

     SIR KNIGHT EDWARD DAVIDS asks if a yellow light is a safe light
     for a dark room. A yellow light is much more agreeable and less
     injurious to the eyes than a red light, and if the glass is a deep
     orange the light will be quite safe. It is best, when developing,
     not to expose the plate to the direct rays of the lantern till
     development is well started.

     LADY EMMA GRACE wishes to know how blisters in prints may be
     avoided. If the prints are put, after toning and before washing,
     in a washbowl of salt and water for five minutes they will not

     F. E. W., JUN., asks for a formula for making sensitive paper. "In
     Nos. 795 and 803 will be found directions for preparing plain
     paper, and in No. 797, 'answers to queries,' will be found a
     formula for preparing 'blue prints.'"

     SIR KNIGHT OCTAVE DE MAURICE asks for a formula for a glycin
     developer. Take glycin, 6 grains; carbonate of potassium, 48
     grains; water, 4 ounces. This is said to be an excellent
     developer, giving soft negatives full of detail, but requiring
     more time than other developing agents.

       *       *       *       *       *


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


Postage Stamps, &c.


=STAMPS!= =300= fine mixed Victoria, Cape of G. H., India, Japan, etc.,
with fine Stamp Album, only =10c.= New 80-p. Price-list =free=. _Agents
wanted_ at =50%= commission. STANDARD STAMP CO., 4 Nicholson Place, St.
Louis, Mo. Old U. S. and Confederate Stamps bought.


100 all dif. Venezuela, Costa Rica, etc., only 10c.; 200 all dif. Hayti,
Hawaii, etc., only 50c. Ag'ts wanted at 50 per ct. com. List FREE!

=C. A. Stegmann=, 2722 Eads Av., St. Louis, Mo.

[Illustration: If afflicted with SORE EYES USE Dr. ISAAC THOMPSON'S EYE

Walter Baker & Co. Limited,


The Largest Manufacturers of



On this Continent, have received


from the great

Industrial and Food



       *       *       *       *       *

=Caution:= In view of the many imitations of the labels and wrappers on
our goods, consumers should make sure that our place of manufacture,
namely, =Dorchester, Mass.= is printed on each package.

       *       *       *       *       *


       *       *       *       *       *




=AWARD:= "For excellence of steel used in their manufacture, it being
fine grained and elastic; superior workmanship, especially shown by the
careful grinding which leaves the pens free from defects. The tempering
is excellent and the action of the finished pens perfect."

  (Signed)  FRANZ VOGT, _Individual Judge_.

  Approved: { H. I. KIMBALL, _Pres't Departmental Committee_.
            { JOHN BOYD THACHER, _Chairman Exec. Com. on Awards_.



Sets any name in one minute; prints 500 cards an hour. YOU can make
money with it. A font of pretty type, also Indelible Ink, Type Holder,
Pads and Tweezers. Best Linen Marker; worth $1.00. Sample mailed FREE
for 10c. stamps for postage on outfit and large catalogue of 1000

R. H. Ingersoll & Bro., 65 Cortlandt St. N.Y. City


=SEND for Catalogue= of the =Musical Instrument= you think of buying.
=Violins repaired= by the Cremona System. C. STORY, 26 Central St.,
Boston, Mass.


Commit to Memory

the best things in Prose and Poetry, always including good Songs and
Hymns. It is surprising how little good work of this kind seems to be
done in the Schools, if one must judge from the small number of people
who can repeat, without mistake or omission, as many as =Three= good
songs or hymns.

Clear, Sharp, Definite,

and accurate Memory work is a most excellent thing, whether in School or
out of it, among all ages and all classes. But let that which is so
learned be worth learning and worth retaining. The Franklin Square Song
Collection presents a large number of

Old and New Songs

and Hymns, in great variety and very carefully selected, comprising
Sixteen Hundred in the Eight Numbers thus far issued, together with much
choice and profitable Reading Matter relating to Music and Musicians. In
the complete and varied

Table of Contents,

which is sent free on application to the Publishers, there are found
dozens of the best things in the World, which are well worth committing
to memory; and they who know most of such good things, and appreciate
and enjoy them most, are really among the best educated people in any
country. They have the best result of Education. For above Contents,
with sample pages of Music, address

Harper & Brothers, New York.

The Marvellous Monongahela.

To realize why the Iron City is called the "Gateway of the West," a trip
should be taken up the Allegheny River, down the Ohio River, and
especially up the Monongahela River. A trip up the last-named is as
delightful as it is instructive. Washington in his twenty-second year
first visited this section in the winter of 1753, bearing despatches
from Governor Dinwiddie, of Virginia, to the French Commandant at the
"Forks of the Ohio," and to "inquire into the number and force of the
French on the Ohio and the adjacent country." Later, General Braddock,
the English commander, was mortally wounded here. The dying General was
deserted by his panic-stricken followers, and "Braddock's Field," on the
banks of this river, will remain for all time an object of interest.

Thirty years later Albert Gallatin, a young traveller, of Switzerland,
then twenty-two years of age, came to the banks of this historic stream
in quest of fortune, on the advice of Patrick Henry, then Governor of
Virginia. Gallatin bought the beautiful estate at New Geneva, containing
500 acres, and it is the only piece of primeval timber land left
standing between Pittsburg and Morgantown, the head of navigation. A
glimpse of the roof and chimneys of Gallatin's old home can be caught
from the boat through the thick grove of oaks that fringes the high
bluff on which it stands. A grass-covered mound enclosed with a neat
fence near the water's edge tells of a story of love and grief in the
early life of this young man. He had been married but three weeks when
his bride died. She was buried there, in a grave unmarked by memorial of
any kind, in obedience to her dying request.

On the banks of the Monongahela, at West Brownsville, was born,
sixty-five years ago, James G. Blaine. Until his twelfth year the hills
and waters of the Monongahela were his favorite haunts. The Monongahela
River and its tributaries cleave through a coal-field in southwestern
Pennsylvania and West Virginia exceeding in area the entire coal-field
of 12,000 square miles of Great Britain. The coal is the famous
Pittsburg seam, and almost all of it, lying along the river, is exposed
above the surface of the water. Hundreds of coal tipples between
Pittsburg and Morgan town are busily engaged in loading the fleets of
coal barges that ply up and down the rivers of Ohio and Mississippi.

Some conception of this vast coal-field may be had when it is realized
that the river cuts through it for over 200 miles. And this Pittsburg
seam is but a part of the great Appalachian coal-field, the greatest in
the world, comprising about 60,000 square miles, containing about a
third more coal than all the coal measures of Europe combined.
Southwestern Pennsylvania and West Virginia possess the most valuable
part of this splendid area, which the Monongahela carries to the
workshops of Pittsburg and the towns and cities as far away as the Gulf
of Mexico.


Dalles of the St. Croix River.

The Dalles enjoy a fame that is historic. They consist of high vertical
cliffs which flank the valley of St. Croix River as it winds its way to
the Mississippi. A great formation of trap-rock a thousand feet thick
crosses this part of the country, and the river flows through a fissure
formed, probably, during the process of cooling in this mass of volcanic
outflow. The gulch thus originally formed has been deepened and widened
through the lapse of ages by the action of the water, until it has
become a mighty chasm through which a wide river rolls and tumbles. Many
and strange are the shapes into which the water has carved the stone as
it has worn its course through the barriers.

Here and there are such strange rock formations as "The Old Man of the
Dalles," the "Devil's Kitchen," "Devil's Chair," "Devil's Pulpit," and
"Elbow Rock." In fact, the "Dalles of the St. Croix" (as the river here
is called) is full of the most wonderful stone formations.

The Devil's Chair is a massive vertical column which buttresses the
formation beside the river to a height of 150 feet. It has a tall back,
an ample seat and foot-rest, and seems peculiarly fitted to be the
resting-place of some mythical and colossal human shape. Other curious
features are the wells, varying in size and depth from a few inches to
thirty feet. These are shafts in the solid trap-rock a hundred feet or
more above the surface of the river. Their origin is due to the grinding
power of bowlders which, rolling into a depression or a hole in the
rock, the water whirled into the cavity with a spiral motion, thus
causing the bowlders to revolve, and in the course of ages the wells
have been bored as if by some titanic power, until the subsidence of the
stream has annihilated the force, and the work has ceased, leaving the
bowlders in the bottom of the cavity.

The village of Taylor's Falls is situated at the head of the Dalles. The
hunting and fishing here are excellent.


How to Cure Skins.

Here is an answer to the question "How to cure the skins of small
animals." After having removed the skin from the body, and having
cleaned away from it all adherent flesh, anoint it with arsenical soap,
for the making of which there are several ways, the following being the
most used: arsenic, 1 ounce; white soap, 1 ounce; carbonate of potash, 1
drachm (1/3 of an ounce apothecaries' weight), distilled water, 6
drachms, camphor, 2 drachms.

This keeps the skin supple and prevents decay and attacks of insects.
The larger skins are generally prepared with a composition called
"preservation powder." Gloves should be worn in the process to prevent
danger of poison from compounds. Some skins are prepared with alum only,
and others with oak-bark liquor of the tanner's pits.

  E. H.

Take equal parts of salt, saltpetre, and alum, pulverize and mix. Dampen
the flesh side of the hide, and sprinkle the mixture on so that it will
just about cover the surface. Fold the skin in the centre, flesh side
in. Roll together snugly and tie. Keep in a cool place three or four
days. Then take the mixture off, and with a dull case-knife scrape off
all the fatty and meaty particles, being careful not to scrape through
the skin. Keep working till the hide is dry and pliable.

You can put the skin on a flat board to scrape it, or a better way is to
put a cloth on your knee and then place the skin on that to scrape, then
you are not apt to cut it. A little experience will soon teach you how
best to work, as different skins require more or less working according
to thickness.


News From an Old Friend.

I am going to tell you about a trip we took some time ago to an island
lying in the Danube in the vicinity of Budapest. It is called "Saint
Margaret's Isle," after a daughter of one of Hungary's greatest kings,
Béla IV., who reigned from 1235-70, during the dreadful invasion of the
Tartars. Margaret, or as it is pronounced in Hungarian, Margit, spent
her life as a nun in a convent whose ruins are yet to be seen on this
island, and lived in such a good way that she was canonized after her
death. Even now many legends are current about her, which show how the
people venerate her.

Now the isle is the property of the Archduke Joseph, uncle to the king.
Free access is given to the public, who repair thither in great crowds
to enjoy the pleasant air and beautiful scenery; every half-hour
steamers from both sides of the river convey them there. First-rate
bands are always performing in the divers refreshment pavilions. A most
renowned mineral spring (sulphurous) makes invalids resort to that place
for drinking the waters. When roses are in season there are whole
plantations of these lovely flowers in bloom, which are sold to the
visitors. The whole isle looks like a beautiful English park, and might
well be styled the "Emerald Isle" of the Danube.

The whole town is making preparations for the great national exhibition,
which is to be next year, in commemoration of the Hungarians' coming to
the country, which is the Hungary of nowadays, a thousand years ago,
viz., in 896. Large edifices are erecting in the vast public garden,
called Vàrosliget, where the exhibition will be held. The new House of
Parliament and the Royal Palace, to which most extensive buildings are
being added, will also be finished for this occasion. An underground
electric tramway is constructing. So Budapest presents a most lively
picture just now, with all these constructions.


London Stone and Monument.

London Stone is in the very centre of the old city, and was the stone
from which all distances were measured, and from which all the old Roman
roads through England started. It is now built in the wall of a church,
and protected by an iron grating from the too curious public. It is of
unknown age, but is mentioned in an old MS. as far back as the time of
Athelstane, King of the West Saxons.

The Monument, commemorating the great fire in 1666, stands where the
fire ended; it is a fluted column 202 feet high. The reason given for
this height is, I believe, that this is the distance from the spot where
the fire started in Pudding Lane. There was once an inscription on the
Monument saying that the fire was the result of a Popish plot, but this
was long ago effaced.

There is a fine view from the top, but the stairs are very wearisome. In
one of Dickens's books--_Martin Chuzzlewit_, I think--the man in charge
of the Monument says, when some folks have paid the money necessary for
admission: "They don't know what a many steps there is. It's worth twice
the money to stay below." The top is enclosed with an iron railing,
because so many people have committed suicide from it. Although there
are hundreds of statues, memorials, monuments, etc., this is "the
Monument" of London. The carriages here always go to the left instead of
to the right. That seems odd to an American.


San Francisco's "Chinatown."

Chinatown proper is bounded by Pacific Street on the north, Kearny
Street on the east, and California and Stockton streets on the south and
west respectively. Three of the principal car lines pass through it, so
much of Chinatown and its life can be seen even by one coming up from
downtown on the cars.

One is much amused by the curious ways and dress of the Chinese
children, especially the young ones. Sometimes around Chinese New-Year's
there is a great celebration and much firing of fire-crackers. Then the
buildings are decorated in the brightest colors, and each Chinaman
salutes his friend or neighbor with "Quong he fat choy" (Happy
New-Year). Chinamen also make presents to their white friends at this
time, sometimes very elaborate ones.

Post Street is the most common street for Chinese funerals, which
consist of but one or two carriages, and sometimes only a hearse. From
the vehicles are thrown out slips of paper about an inch and a half by
five inches, with slits cut in them. There is a common belief that the
devil must go through every hole in every piece of paper before he can
reach the soul of the dead.

  N. WHEATON, K. T. R.

Want Corner.

Margaret Seymour thinks her hobby such a queer one that no one else is
interested in it. She is tracing the Sigurd or Siegfried Myth. She asks
if _Elder Edda_, Jordan's _Sigfrid's Saga_, and Geibel's _Tragedy of
Brunehild_, have ever been translated into English; also where to find
the _Volsunga Saga_. _The Brunehild Tragedy_ can be had in English from
French & Sons, publishers, 18 West Twenty-third Street, New York. Can
any member tell us about the others? Sidney T. Mirams, lives in Elder
Street, Dunedin, New Zealand, and is a member of our Order who collects
stamps. Moreover, he says he has some to trade; also wrappers and post
cards. Charles F. Hoffman, 16 Whitehall Street, New York has started an
eight-page monthly called _The Courier_, and will send a free sample to
all who ask. Its price is twenty-five cents a year, but it is to be
raised to thirty-five cents. It is a good juvenile amateur.

[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.

This Department is conducted in the interest of the readers of HARPER'S
ROUND TABLE--(1) To give the _important_ stamp news of the day; (2) to
assist the young collectors to collect _intelligently_ by giving them
hints on those subjects which are usually so difficult to understand,
such as perforations, water-marks, papers, colors, methods of
manufacture, varieties of dies, and the care and management of their
philatelic treasures: (3) to answer questions in this column, or by
letter, provided a stamped and addressed envelope be enclosed with the
inquiry. I hope, however, all collectors will provide themselves with a
catalogue, sold by all stamp-dealers, as this will in itself answer such
questions as "What is the value of a ---- U. S. stamp?"

     MOLLIE DAVIS.--The stamp is catalogued at 2c.

     LANTIE V. BLUM.--I advise young collectors always to buy stamps
     from well-known, respectable dealers. See our advertising columns
     for names.

     C. P. MCKILLOPP.--The 10c. green U. S. 1851 unperforated is worth
     60 to 75 cents. The same stamp perforated is worth 25 cents. The
     10c. 1861 is worth 5 cents; the same stamp grilled is worth 40
     cents. The 6c. Lincoln 1870, grilled, is worth $4, but without
     grill 2 cents.

     F. G. CLAPP.--The Richmond stamp is a fraud. Look a little
     sharper, and you will find the 2c. current issue with a white line
     inside the frame of the triangle. There is a new issue of U. S.
     envelopes. The water-mark has been changed.

     L. H.--The gold coin has no premium, owing to the monogram. I
     should prefer to see the Blood, Boyd, and Bouton stamps before
     making any definite answer, as you do not give the dates of the
     letters to which they are affixed.

     MURRAY CAMPBELL.--The various Confederate bills are worth very
     little. The stamp-dealers sell them very cheaply.

     E. P. TRIPP.--The revenue-stamp is worth 2 cents. The 1c. 1851
     _without_ the outer line at the bottom, and the same stamp
     perforated (1856) _with_ the line are the scarce varieties.

     ROY THOMPSON.--There is no premium on the fractional currency used
     during the war, unless it is perfectly fresh and has never been

     C. G. ATHERTON.--Sverige means Sweden. The French stamp is a
     revenue, not a postage-stamp. The Brazil is a newspaper-stamp.

     E. C. CROSETT.--The scarce variety of the 7c. 1870 U. S. is the
     one without the line around the inner circles of the bulb.

     J. K.--The Kew-Kiang, Wuhu, etc., are Chinese local stamps, and
     were issued primarily to sell to collectors. I would not advise
     buying them, as, speaking philatelically, they are simply trash.

     A. E. BARROW.--English stamps surcharged I. R.--Official, are
     simply official stamps used for governmental mail matter. The
     blue, green, and red "Jenkins Camden Despatch" are either reprints
     or counterfeits. In either case they are of no value. The New
     Zealand and Confederates mentioned by you are all catalogued

     A. B. JOHNSON.--The 1882 re-engraved of U. S. 1870 have most of
     their lines deepened. It is almost impossible to explain by words,
     but a single look at the originals and the re-engraved will show
     you once for all the difference. The embossing of the U. S. stamps
     was made on the supposition that the cancellation of an embossed
     stamp would make it impossible to use the stamp a second time.
     Possibly it would do so if the embossing were strong enough to
     pierce the stamp with numerous holes, but practically the idea was
     a failure. Clear embossing may be measured by a millimetre scale.


[Illustration: Ivory Soap]

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




There's lots of snap and vim in this HIRES' ROOTBEER. There's lots of
pleasure and good health in it, too. A delicious drink, a temperance
drink, a home-made drink, a drink that delights the old and young. Be
sure and get the genuine

[Illustration: HIRES' Rootbeer]

A 25 cent package makes 5 gallons. Sold everywhere.

The Chas. E. Hires Company, Philadelphia, Pa.

[Illustration: If afflicted with SORE EYES USE Dr. ISAAC THOMPSON'S EYE


WONDER CABINET =FREE=. Missing Link Puzzle, Devil's Bottle, Pocket
Camera, Latest Wire Puzzle, Spook Photos, Book of Sleight of Hand, Total
Value 60c. Sent free with immense catalogue of 1000 Bargains for 10c.
for postage.

INGERSOLL & BRO., 65 Cortlandt Street N. Y.


From Harper's Young People Series.

_Illustrated. Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25 each:_

     =_The Mystery of Abel Forefinger_.= By WILLIAM DRYSDALE.

     =_Raftmates_.--_Canoemates_.--_Campmates_.--_Dorymates_.= By KIRK

     =_Young Lucretia, and Other Stories_.= By MARY E. WILKINS.

     =_A Boy's Town_.= By W. D. HOWELLS.

     =_Diego Pinzon_.= By J. K. CORYELL.

_Illustrated. Square 16mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.00 each:_

     =_Wakulla_.--_The Flamingo Feather_.--_Derrick
     Sterling_.--_Chrystal, Jack & Co., and Delta Bixby_.= By KIRK

     =_The Talking Leaves_.--_Two Arrows_.--_The Red Mustang_.= By W. O.

     =_Prince Lazybones, and Other Stories_.= By Mrs. W. J. HAYS.

     =_The Ice Queen_.= By ERNEST INGERSOLL.

     =_Uncle Peter's Trust_.= By GEORGE B. PERRY.

     =_Toby Tyler_.--_Mr. Stubbs's Brother_.--_Tim and Tip_.--_Left
     Behind_.--_Raising the "Pearl_."--_Silent Pete_.= By JAMES OTIS.

     =_The Four Macnicols_.= By WILLIAM BLACK.

     =_The Lost City_.--_Into Unknown Seas_.= By DAVID KER.

     =_The Story of Music and Musicians_.--_Jo's Opportunity_.--_Rolf
     House_.--_Mildred's Bargain, and Other Stories_.--_Nan_.--_The
     Colonel's Money_.--_The Household of Glen Holly_.= By LUCY C.

       *       *       *       *       *

Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.

_For sale by all booksellers, or will be mailed by the publishers,
postage prepaid, on receipt of the price._






"Well," said Aunt Mary, "so the Fourth of July is here again. How many
fingers do you expect it to leave you with, Tommy?"

"Ten," answered Tommy, promptly. "I didn't know there was anything about
the Fourth of July to make extra fingers sprout out on a boy's hand."

"There isn't anything about it that is apt to increase the number of a
boy's fingers; but there is something about it that makes it a good time
for a boy to get rid of any extra or superfluous fingers he may have.
Bursting cannon and big fire-crackers are very serious things for

"Well, I haven't any fingers that I want to get rid of," said Tommy.

"Of course you know what the Fourth of July commemorates?" remarked Aunt

"The signing of the Declaration of Independence," answered Tommy,

"Yes. Now suppose it had been signed the 15th of January, what sort of a
Fourth of July do you suppose that would have made?"

"Too cold--snow would put out the fire-crackers," replied Tommy.

"Just what Thomas Jefferson said," returned Aunt Mary. "Charles Carroll
of Carrollton wanted to sign it on the 15th of January, but Jefferson
said, 'That's no time for fire-crackers. The snow will make 'em sputter
and go out. We owe something to posterity.'"

"Now, Aunt Mary," broke in Tommy, "I believe you--"

"Listen," went on Aunt Mary. "Listen, and learn about history. 'I think
it will do well enough,' said Charles Carroll of Carrollton.
'Fire-crackers are dangerous things. Let posterity go sleigh-riding on
the glorious 15th of January, and make a noise by cracking the whip.
Besides, Thomas A. Edison will soon invent snow-proof fire-crackers.'"

"Aunt Mary--"

"Don't interrupt me, Tommy. 'No,' said Jefferson, 'September is the
time. We'll sign it on the 27th of September. Think of the glorious
27th! How the cannon will boom, and the rockets whiz, and--' 'I won't
agree to put it off a moment beyond the 22d of February,' said Charles
Carroll of Carrollton. 'That won't do,' answered Thomas Jefferson.
'That's the birthday of the father of his country. Two holidays rolled
into one wouldn't be the thing. People would celebrate too hard. I'm
willing to make it the 13th of August.' 'Let's settle on the 10th of
March,' replied Charles Carroll of Carrollton. 'Thirty-first of July,'
said Jefferson. 'Fourteenth of April,' answered Carroll. They finally
compromised on the 4th of July."

"What history did you study?" asked Tommy, as the best way of exposing
his aunt's romancing.

"All of the good ones," she answered. "Smith's, and Brown's, and
Thompson's, and Robinson's, and Jones's. Wherever I found a good fact I
picked it up. I was always very fond of facts when I went to school. Did
you ever hear about the dispute Thomas Jefferson and Charles Carroll of
Carrollton had when they came to write and sign the Declaration of

"No," said Tommy, wondering what his aunt would say next.

"They had quite a little tiff. Jefferson, you see, wanted to have it
written on a typewriter, and--"

"But, Aunt, the typewriter wasn't invented then."

"That's just what Charles Carroll of Carrollton told him. But Jefferson
insisted on calling in the janitor, and having it invented while they
waited. 'Posterity can never read my handwriting,' said Jefferson.
'Besides, my fountain-pen won't work to-day; you know how it is with
these fountain-pens--some days ink will shoot out of them like water out
of a garden hose, and other times you can't get it out with a

"Why didn't Charles Carroll of Carrollton tell Jefferson that
fountain-pens weren't invented either?" asked Tommy.

"I don't think he knew it. A great many people then thought that
fountain-pens were invented. And then they talked a long time, and
Thomas Jefferson tried to get Benjamin Franklin to set it up in type and
print it, but he said he had to go fishing with his kite that afternoon
for electricity and so couldn't; and then the others sided in with
Charles Carroll of Carrollton, and Jefferson had to write it after all,
with a quill pen, and with sand to dry the ink with instead of
blotting-paper, because the man who had promised to invent
blotting-paper had joined the army and gone off to fight the British. So
you see, Tommy, the men that wrote and signed the Declaration of
Independence had their troubles. But you ought to be thankful that they
did it in July instead of January."

Tommy thought a moment, and then said, "Yes, I am; but if they'd done it
about six weeks earlier it would have given us a holiday while there was
school, and _I_ think that's a pretty good time for holidays."


  When I witness the destruction of famed cities of the past
  Reproduced in pyrotechnics on a scale superb and vast,
  How their ineffectual fires pale in potent power to charm
  Before that dollar-twelve assortment dad once set off at the farm!

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