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Title: Harper's Round Table, March 10, 1896
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, March 10, 1896" ***

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

       *       *       *       *       *



       *       *       *       *       *



A Story of the Revolution.




Propped up by pillows in an easy-chair before a roaring fire in the
great fireplace, George Frothingham was sitting, relating to a group of
listeners the story of his adventures on the way from New York.

His sister Grace, seated on the arm of the chair, was softly stroking
his hand.

Aunt Clarissa, who had discarded her tatting-frames, was busily clicking
her needles at the toe of a woollen stocking.

"What I don't see," said George, "is where I got that little
chopped-down horse that you say I rode upon. I do not know where he came

"But you are anticipating," said Aunt Clarissa; "you had only got as far
in your story as sighting Lyons Farms."

"Oh, that's so!" said George. "Now comes the part that I hate most to
tell. When I came down the hill, it was evident that something was wrong
in the collection of little houses. No one was stirring about, and the
ruins of a small building were smoking to the left of the road. What do
you suppose had happened? The firing that I had heard two or three hours
before had taken place here. There had been a skirmish. A body of
English troops and a company of Hessians on a marauding excursion had
been met at the cross-roads by a handful of militia. It makes my blood
boil to tell the rest, but the Lord will punish them. All this had
happened only a few hours before I arrived. They had shot Mr. Hinckley,
and a brute of a Hessian had rested his gun on the window-sill, and
killed his wife as she bent over her baby's cradle. Then, like redskins,
they had hurried off. I found no one amongst the dwellings but some
frightened children huddling in a cellar. The houses were robbed and

Aunt Clarissa had dropped her stocking and rushed into the next room.
"God forgive me!" she had exclaimed, when she was alone, and she had
reached her long arms up above her head. "Curse them and their tyrants
to the bottom of the sea! How could I have been so blind--so stubborn?"

When she had come back, however, she kissed her nephew on the forehead.

The remembrance of the scene, and the picture of it which was going
through his mind, had caused George to pause and sink back silently
among the cushions. "I think I will rest a little," he said.

No one disturbed him, and for some time there was silence.

In a few minutes a loud, hearty voice was heard ringing through the

George smiled. "Colonel Hewes," he said. "Do ask him in."

The Colonel greeted his young friend with a subdued effusion, and, with
the gentleness of a woman, spread out George's fingers in his palm.

"Just back from headquarters!" he said. "Lad, lad, I have had you on my
mind, and when I heard of your escape, I grew quite young again. The
Commander-in-Chief himself rejoiced to hear of it, for the officer with
despatches from the north brought the news of your arrival. But when his
Excellency heard for what you had gone to New York he grew quite angry.
He laid aside my request for active service, though. Too bad the plan
fell through! It was my idea.--I wrote and proposed it to the printer."

George smiled to himself. Perhaps Mr. Hewes's next venture would be an
attempt to capture the King of England.

"Did you come along by the Tumble Ridge Road?" inquired the Colonel. He
did not catch Aunt Clarissa's warning glance.

George wrinkled his forehead. "Now let me think; yes--there's where it
occurred," he said. "But wait; I have got to think how it all happened."

"Don't try, brother George," said Grace. "Wait until another day."

"No, I must tell it now. Where was I?"

"You were telling about Lyons Farms," said his sister.

"Oh yes! I found an old sledge in a shed much like the one that my good
friend Wissinck had driven me in from Paulus Hook. Although old Molly
was very tired, I harnessed her up and put the children--there were four
of them--in a feather-bed, and drove across the hill. I stopped at the
first house that I came across, and found two old women there. You
should have heard their stories! The Hessians have been worse than
Indians; you would hardly believe it.--But enough. I left the children
there with the two old women, and pushed along as best I could three or
four miles further. Here I came upon the remains of a camp-fire by the
road-side, and was glad enough to find the remnants of a meal in the
kettle that hung over the smouldering fire. It had been left hurriedly.

"That night I slept in a farm-house in the mountains. The poor old mare
was so tired by this time that I determined to make the rest of the trip
on foot, and left her in the care of the old farmer, who promised to
return her. I shall never forget how I suffered all that day. If it had
not been for two rough snow-shoes that I had made out of the staves of a
molasses hogshead, I could not have gotten through the snow at all." He
paused. "Now comes the part that leads up to my forgetting."

George had seemed to gather strength as he went on with the recital. He
now sat up straighter, and the color came to his pale cheeks.

"I had almost feared I had lost my way when I saw the trunk of a
shattered pine--the one that was struck by lightning, you remember--then
I knew that I was only six miles from home. I was weak and faint, for I
had had nothing to eat but a frozen potato all that day. I soon came to
the cross-roads where the path winds across the ridge. It was a
short-cut, and I took it. The bushes interfered with my rough
snow-shoes, and I discarded them and plunged through the snow. When I
came to the hollow by the old Camel rock, I smelt smoke quite
distinctly.--It is here, you know, that the path joins the road
again.--As I pushed through the short pines the smoke became stronger,
and all at once I found myself face to face with a group of men seated
about a fire. Two or three horses were tethered to the trees, and the
men were all armed.

"'God save our country!' I exclaimed--for the idea that there were
English so close about seemed impossible.

"'God save ourselves!' said one of the men, with a laugh.

"At that moment I recognized a man in the little circle who was slowly
rising to his feet. It was that rascal Cloud, the man who had robbed
Uncle Nathan unknown for so many years, you remember."

"Well," cried Colonel Hewes. "He's got his dues. I--" The Colonel
stopped and dug his fingers into his palm.

George had not noticed the interruption. "I knew, of course," he went
on, "that some mischief was afoot, for that wretch never had an honest
thought. I backed away, and was going to make a break for the road near
by, when I tripped and fell.

"'Seize him!' said Cloud, and in another moment I was bound hand and
foot. They took my purse, which yet contained some gold pieces. They
were as murdering a lot of pirates as you ever saw!"

"We know of them," the Colonel broke in, excitedly. "There's a price on
all their heads, for they acknowledge no law or party. But go on."

"'What are you going to do with me?' I asked, after they had searched
every pocket. No one paid the least attention.

"They had drawn apart and were whispering together, and I could see that
Cloud was talking angrily. How long they conversed I do not know, but it
was at some length. When Cloud had finished speaking, there was some
dissent about what he said, and the rest--all but two--took their
bundles, and, heading about, struck off through the woods. Cloud was
left sitting opposite to me, his horse was tied to a tree a short
distance off. I shall never forget the look in that man's eyes. It was
the look of Satan himself."

"Go on," said Colonel Hewes, breathlessly.

Aunt Clarissa and Grace gathered closer.

"'Do you remember me?' asked Cloud.

"'I do for a thieving villain,' I replied.

"'Do you know that your uncle had me tied and thrashed like a low black
nigger?' he exclaimed, his teeth coming over his under lip.

"'And well deserved,' said I. Perhaps it was foolish, but I so detest
the man that I could reply naught else.

"'I swore that I would be revenged on him and his,' snarled Cloud.

"'What are you going to do?' I inquired. I was wound about lengthwise
with a long rope, and could move no more than my little finger.

"'I am going to hang you,' he replied. The two men that had been left
behind approached us as if to interfere, but he repulsed them, and they
hurried into the woods.

"I was frightened. The idea that he really intended to do it never
entered my mind. But now I judge that he must be a maniac and nothing

"'You villain,' I said, 'you dare not lay hands on me!'"

Aunt Clarissa started. She remembered this was the expression that
George had used in his delirium.

"Do you know what that, _that_"--George paused for an expression--"what
he did?" he said at last, quite calmly. "He put a rope around my neck,
and threw the end over the branch of a tree. Even then I did not suppose
that he was trying to do anything but frighten me, but I shall never
forget the horror with which I felt the rope tighten about my throat! As
he was no heavier than I, he could not lift me entirely from the
ground.--I could still almost stand upon my toes."

Aunt Clarissa and Grace both grew faint. The Colonel dashed his
riding-whip to the ground.

George panted as he went on with his story. "I can remember no more than
seeing that fiend standing there cross-legged, looking up at me. Then
it seemed to me I fell from some frightful height."

"You must have come home after that," said Aunt Clarissa, "for you
arrived here shortly after dusk."

She made up her mind that she would not say anything about the latter
escapade and his escape from the house, as George did not wish to talk
on further, and Colonel Hewes also concluded to say nothing about the
doctor's discovery, which the latter had related to him.

"After I fell, I remember nothing for two days, you know," George added.

"Never mind," said Aunt Clarissa, smoothing back his hair. "You must
rest, dear boy."

The lad closed his eyes, and appeared to drop asleep.

Colonel Hewes took his leave at once. As he went across the meadow
toward the foundry a thought struck him. "Jove! I have the solution!" he
said, "It was Adam Bent Knee's revenge. Indian blood will show out. I
have always held it so. He has settled scores for good and all with his
old enemy Cloud."

There was one thing that puzzled every one--the presence of the strange
horse that it was supposed George must have picked up somewhere on the
Tumble Ridge Road, and while still under the influence of his disordered
mind. Burnt into the saddle was the name "Ralston, Hoboken." If the
"colt" could have talked, it could have added some astonishing
information that would have cleared away the fog of uncertainty. It was
thought, however, that the little horse might have escaped from the band
of marauders, and that the young man had found him after he had fallen,
and had managed to free himself from his bonds. Colonel Hewes's cousin
could have solved a great deal of this mystery, but he had gone to
Morristown, and had been ordered thence to General Putnam's forces in
the southern part of the State.

There was some confusion also about the time of day at which things had
taken place.

But we must return and follow the doings of the royalist Lieutenant,
young William Frothingham, after he had closed the door of his old home
behind him, and had bade that mysterious adieu to his white-robed sister
in the hallway. Her exclamation and her calling him by his brother's
name had proved again that the resemblance must be as marvelous as ever.
As soon as he had left the house he started on a run toward the old
bridge, and taking a lumber path, he waded through the snow, intending
to make for the hut of Adam Bent Knee that was in the hollow in the
ridge. He knew that the old Indian would give him shelter, and would
help him on his way, no matter to what party he belonged.

He reached the hut at last. It was built against a bank, and was roofed
with bark and slabs of pine. Something had happened here, however, for
the interior was torn to pieces. The furs that hung upon the wall were
cut and slashed, and a half-barrel of apples had been thrown across the
floor. All this had been done quite recently, for there were signs
before the door of footprints and horses' hoofs. They led along the
lumber path from the summit, and a short distance further on the same
tracks were seen going in the opposite direction as if the party had
doubled. The latter trail was much the fresher. William followed it.

They had broken a way through the snow, and he could travel for three or
four miles much more easily. The trail led him through the woods until
he descried the other side of the mountain. Far below him William made
out a fire's light shimmering through the trees. Broad streaks had
appeared in the east, and the edge of the red sun was showing through
the horizon clouds. It was a grand sight. So still was the air that a
twig that he stepped on in the snow seemed to him to crack like the
report of a pistol. A belated owl in its sturdy driving flight swept
across the clearing before him. Such a feeling of loneliness came over
him that his heart sank again. What had his career as an officer of the
crown brought to him? There was nothing of the coward in his
disposition, and his sense of duty, as we know, was developed to the
limit, but he hoped with all his soul that should he arrive safely back
in the city, that he and all the gleaming bayonets there might be
bundled back into the ships and sent to England. He prayed that he might
never be compelled to draw his sword against this people, his own
people, who were "rebels" no longer in his mind or estimation!

The sight of the fire in the woods reminded him that he was hungry, and
must push ahead that he might reconnoitre. He half slid down the sharp
declivity, and forced his way through the bushes.

There was a group of rough-looking men seated about a bivouac at the
right of a great oak; some leaning forward wrapped in heavy blankets,
appeared asleep. Three horses were nibbling at the twigs of the stunted
undergrowth. One had strayed to quite a distance, and was standing
mournfully leg-deep in the snow. As William came down the hill he found
himself at the top of a great rock even with the branches of the oak and
overlooking the small fire. He was in full sight when one of the party
looked up and saw him. The man's jaw dropped, and he caught his breath,
with an exclamation that aroused the drowsy ones about him. One of the
men rolled backwards with a howl, and with his blanket trailing behind
him plunged down the hill.

"Greeting, good friends," said William.

The effect of this short speech astonished him. Two of the men sprang up
and jumped astride of the nearest horses, and the others took to their
heels like the first, and soon the whole party was crashing down the
hill like a herd of startled deer.

William did not move. He was too astonished to call after them, and from
his post on the rock saw them come out into the meadow some distance
below, where they stopped and talked. They appeared to come to one
decision, for after looking back, they pushed on hastily, and entered
the woods at the other side of the valley.

Swinging himself down by the branches of the oak, William found himself
in possession of the very things that he most needed. In their
unaccountable flight the strange party had left behind them a rough
blanket and a blue woollen cape, and a huge flint-lock pistol, whose
dark butt protruded from the snow, where it had been dropped, like some
new growth of the forest.

A short distance away was a placid-looking horse who had commenced again
to gnaw the trunk of a white birch.

"Refuse not the gifts the gods provide," quoted William. "What did they
take me for? I must look like an army or a constable. A lot of thieves,
most likely."

He extricated the horse with some difficulty, and picking up the blanket
and woollen cape, he retraced his steps to the top of the ridge, and
made his way along the summit toward the travelled road to the
southward. He had now the things he had wished for to continue his
journey. By noon he had covered some fifteen miles, for he could hardly
urge the sorry beast out of a walk. He met no one on the road until the
sun glowered directly above his head. He had passed several houses, but
deemed it safer to go on as far as he could before he stopped and asked
the direction. As he made his way through a bit of swampy land he saw
ahead of him a strange-looking object. It was a man carrying a heavy
burden on his back. What it was at first William could not make out, but
as he approached nearer he saw that it was the body of a freshly
slaughtered hog. He was almost at the strange figure's heels before the
latter turned. The broad honest face with a cheek closely pressed
against the dead pig's open-mouthed visage presented such a comical
picture that William to save himself could not but smile.

"Greeting, good friend," he said. "Good-morrow."

The man did not answer, but walked closely up to William's side, almost
thrusting his own face and the pig's into the saddle.

"What sayest thou?" he inquired. "I am deaf as a ploughshare."

"Can you tell me the direction of Plainfield?" shouted William, bending

"Yea, friend," was the answer, "but thou art too far north." William had
surmised as much.

"Where are you going with your burden?" he inquired.

"Oh, the shoat?" the man answered, rubbing his cheek against the pig's
fat jowl to steady him on his shoulder. "It's a gift I am making to a
righteous cause. I am not a man of war," he added. "It is against my
creed, but they who fight need flesh to strengthen them. I am taking
this to some good people who are camped below us. Thou art a soldier?"

"I am," said William.

"I would shake hands with thee, but I should drop my load." The broad
face smiled.

"Come, place him upon my horse," said William, dismounting.

As they were placing the pink body across the saddle, and William was
marvelling at the man's great strength, there was a hail from a clump of
alders to the left.

"Ah, Brother Whitehead," was the exclamation, "what have we here?"

A tall, black-bearded man came through the bushes. Behind him followed
three or four stalwart youths, with long-barrelled rifles over their
shoulders. But before another word was spoken the first man leaped
across a ditch and came toward William, saluting as he did so. Then it
was seen that he wore a ragged Continental uniform.

"Well met indeed, and God bless you, Lieutenant Frothingham! Methinks
you are in time to aid us." The youths who were with him also came to an
awkward salute. "We have the green-coated women-slayers cornered," he
continued. "Not one of them will escape. There were some 'Lobster Backs'
with them. They will suffer for the doings at Lyons Farms, I'll warrant

"Are the English near us?" inquired William, his heart beating fast.

"Ay, and the Hessians too! They were driven back in their efforts to
reach Elizabethtown, and we have been gathering our forces for an attack
this afternoon. You rank me, sir," he continued. "I am but Sergeant
Ralston, and my elbow touched yours at Princeton and Harlem, you may
remember. Come now, sir, will you take command? We have some brave
hearts with us."

William half faltered. Here, indeed, was a predicament.





One of the most familiar names to the student of English history is that
of Lady Arabella Stuart, who was long a constant source of alarm to
James I., because she was born near the throne. She never urged her
claim nor appeared to covet the crown; daughter of Charles, Earl of
Lennox, and cousin to the King, she inherited a full share of the beauty
and misfortunes of her race. A lovely girl, full of wit and grace,
gifted with the gentle art of making friends, she was the life of a
lifeless court.

Many matches were proposed to the sovereign, who had power to make or
break a marriage for her. Suitors of various rank and countries knelt at
her feet, and it was told that even Henri the Great of France had dreams
of seating the blue-eyed Countess with the wavy tresses on the throne of

So passed her youth; and in her thirty-fifth year James, by way of
banter, told the maiden she had remained fancy free to suit him long
enough; she might now wed whom she would. Poets, adventurers, courtiers,
and knights of high lineage kissed her white hand, but came no nearer
the heart, which beat faster for none but William Seymour, afterward
Marquis of Hertford, a youth of twenty-three years. Only the stars were
witness as they sealed their vows and oath, and the secret kept well for
a season. But a bird in the air carried the matter to Windsor, and
Seymour was arrested and brought before the Council to answer for the
outrage--betrothal in secrecy.

He denied everything; swore he had not thought of anything but pastime.
What did he want with a wife ten years older than himself? And so the
rumor was forgotten with other court gossip.

They thought the King would give up his nonsense, for Seymour was from
one of the proudest families of Europe, and there was no reason in this
opposition; besides, he had consented to a wedding. But no relenting was
admitted by James, and in July, 1610, a poor priest was found and bribed
to risk his neck by going through the marriage ceremony for the lovers.


After a year of concealment the news reached the King's ear. He was
enraged; the priest was thrown into prison, the two witnesses present
were arrested, and the offending pair parted in the first sweetness of
the honeymoon. Seymour was sent to St. Thomas's Tower on the river. He
was furnished handsome apartments, with plates, hangings, books,
luxurious belongings; and the Countess was lodged in a fine house on the
Thames, with attendance and surroundings as became her rank; allowed
every freedom--except freedom.

Indifferent to the elegancies about her, the bride wrote tender and
passionate letters to her bridegroom, but he answered never a word.
Sweet William made no sign, sent no love-gift. He wrote only to the
Lords of the Council, praying to be restored to liberty, that his health
would be lost if he were not freed, and busied his days making himself
comfortable in the chambers over the Traitors' Gate of London Tower, his
wife's money paying the bills.

One dull, foggy day she quietly stepped into a common barge and floated
down the river to the barred window on the wharf, where she might make
signs to him who did not appear bold enough to plan an escape, and
returned safely to her castle. The brave movement could not be
concealed, and in his wrath the King ordered a dozen counties to be put
between his cousin and the defiant prisoner looking with despair at the

Sadly did the tearful blue eyes turn to the bleak and frozen North,
while sentinels doubled their watch on the square tower built over the

Such was his Majesty's pleasure.

Lady Arabella's attendants were devoted, ready to brave death itself for
their mistress; her soft, kind manner never failed to win where
self-love had not taken too deep a hold. Day and night, while she sighed
her soul away, they schemed and planned to open a path to reunion in the
pleasant land of France, where they might be at peace in banishment. At
last she slipped off, well provided by her aunt, the Countess of
Shrewsbury, with costly jewels current in any country, and with good
English gold to lavish on any who might espouse her cause. She glided
down the Thames, reached the Channel, by arrangement was taken on a
light French bark; but the open water in front of Calais was not for the
hapless bride. Captain Corvè did his best; his little craft was no match
for the swift war-ship _Adventure_ in pursuit. Gallantly he fought wind
and wave, but Admiral Monson outsped him, and after thirteen shots were
fired, he struck his flag, and the crew of the victorious vessel boarded
the bark which carried the royal lady.

She gracefully yielded herself prisoner to James, King of England,
consoled by the thought that he whom she loved better than life was so
well disguised, and his plot so well laid, that he was safe in French

"Where is William, Earl of Seymour?" demanded Monson, Admiral in command
of the chase.

Lady Arabella smiled.

"I cannot tell, but I believe he is beyond the reach of his enemies and


So she was marched to the Tower, into rooms once occupied by Margaret
Douglas, the common grandmother of the King and herself.

When brought before the Lords she was mild and patient, yet asked with
becoming spirit why she, a free woman of royal blood, should be held a
criminal and separated from her lawful husband.

The furious King seized her jewels and money; and her two companions in
the flight, gentlemen by birth, were dragged to the torture-chamber of
the Tower, and forced to confess what they knew of the perilous attempt.

The tale of Seymour's changes of wig and cloak, in various disguises and
places, is too long to tell here. Delighted with liberty and with
France, he seemed to mourn the loss of his bride less than the loss of
her jewels and money, for William dearly loved to loiter in the delicate
plain called Ease, and lie in the soft places gold can buy. The
calculating fellow found his high name a passport in Paris, which city
was vastly amusing, and so was the staid but not less delightful capital
of the Belgians.

In the damp old rooms of her grandmother Lady Arabella languished five
years. The third year an escape was arranged, and when the time was ripe
and success appeared assured she was betrayed, and the venture ended in
nothing but harsher treatment. While "William, dearest," danced the
night away, she wore out the dark hours writing prayers to the King, who
deigned no answer.

Like other high-born dames, she was skilled in cunning needle-work, and
many a doleful day was spent stitching gay silks into canvas, making a
bright broidery, offered as a souvenir to the man who imprisoned her;
but the King would not touch the pretty gift. The courtesy did not move
him any more than her demand to be tried by her peers, according to law,
in open-court, instead of by a Committee of the Council sitting with
closed doors.

When the tapestry came back rejected the blue eyes grew dimmer, and her
cheek paled with the heart-sickness of hope deferred, or rather of
despair, and it was rumored that the daughter of the House of Stuart had
met her doom in madness. Sorriest of all the history is that the
youthful husband forgot his too-loving wife. The letters full of
tenderness reached the trifler at European courts, and lay unanswered.
The low-browed villain Wood, who had her in charge, knew the death of
his captive would please King James and the courtiers who lived on his
smiles. His small mind lent itself to all sorts of petty annoyances and
means to make imprisonment unwholesome. She must not walk, nor have her
own attendants, nor food and dress befitting the near kinswoman of
queens, though the offended monarch generously had the ceiling of her
room "mended to keep out wind and rain."

The forlorn lady passed from deep melancholy to spasms that touched her
brain. Even in such pitiful condition she was closely watched and
guarded by the nervous coward, who pretended to believe there was an
Arabella plot, with Raleigh at its head, secreted in the Tower.

For a year the insane Countess lived, gentle and harmless, chattering
like a little child. Her one amusement was singing songs of love and
longing, learned in happy days, with the lute, whose trembling strings
made the saddest strains ear ever heard. The heart-breaking music
softened even her jailer; he grew compassionate, and she wandered at
will through the doleful halls and the garden. But the wan face never
brightened; she faded slowly, drooped, and died.

In the chill midnight of autumn her wornout body was brought by the
black-flowing river to Westminster Abbey, in a miserable coffin without
a plate, and laid away in that sanctuary with no ceremony, not even a
prayer. "For," says a loyal courtier, "to have had a great funeral for
one dying out of favor with the King would reflect on the King's honor."

After a troubled life she sleeps well in the tomb of her ill-starred
family, close beside the dust of her grandmother, Margaret Douglas. Her
coffin lies across and flattens the leaden casket which holds the
headless corpse of her great-aunt Mary, unhappy Queen of Scots. Neither
name nor date is above her breast, and the skull and bones were plainly
seen below the rotten wood in 1868 (a ghastly sight!) when the vaults
were searched for the remains of James I.

Her persecutor rests near his victim. The enemies are at one now. The
strange peace of death which ends all feuds has brought them together,
and their restless hearts lie still, awaiting the coming of the Angel of
the Resurrection.

The period of which I write is sometimes called the good old times. I
call it the bad old times.



The Whitonville Camera Club was to meet at Will Vaughan's house
Wednesday evening. Whitonville is a town of some size in the western
part of New York. Mr. Vaughan, Will's father, one of its earliest
residents, lives in a large old-fashioned house on the main street,
opposite the Whitonville Bank, of which he is president. All day the
overcast sky had given promise of a downpour, and the sultry atmosphere,
charged with electricity, presaged plenty of thunder and lightning
before midnight.

"It's too bad!" exclaimed Will Vaughan to his friend and visitor Tom
Wetherby, as they stood on the front porch looking at the angry sky. "If
the storm breaks before the fellows get here the meeting falls through;
but here comes Frank Wentworth."

The young men exchanged cordial greetings, and followed Will to the
library, where the meeting was to be held. One after another the members
arrived, until the whole club was seated around the table. Tom Wetherby
belonged to a large club in the city, and was recognized as an authority
by the members of this small country organization. He was a bright young
fellow of nineteen, always on the lookout for some novel subject for his
camera, which accompanied him on all his wanderings. He listened to the
debate, offering a word now and then as his opinion was requested, until
his ear caught the swish of rain hurled violently against the
window-panes by the wind. Presently this was followed by heavy peals of
thunder, and flash after flash of lightning.

"If you don't mind, Will, I will try to catch a flash or two of the
lightning; I have been waiting for a chance like this for a long time,"
said Tom.

"All right, old fellow; we'll excuse you. Look out your camera isn't
blown away."

Tom was soon busy setting up his camera on the front porch, with the
lens pointed at the sky at an angle which just cleared the tops of the
opposite houses. The rain poured down, while crash upon crash of thunder
followed each successive flash of lightning. Nearer and nearer came the
force and violence of the storm, until the centre of electrical activity
was directly over the village. Tom exposed several plates, and had put
the last plate-holder in position when his foot struck one leg of the
tripod, almost capsizing the camera. A quick grab at the instrument
prevented the catastrophe; but before he could get the camera in
position, again, a blinding flash came, followed simultaneously by a
crash which shook the building to its very foundation. For a moment Tom
was dazed with the vivid light. Every object was illuminated with a
brightness exceeding daylight, and then all became intensely dark. Tom
capped his lens, seized his camera, and re-entered the house, where he
found the club still discussing the topic of the evening.

"Well, what luck?" they exclaimed.

Tom shook the water from his clothes, wiped the moisture carefully from
the camera, and replied: "Oh, so so! the last plate must be a dead
failure, though. I knocked the camera half over just before that
terrible crash."

The following morning the Vaughans were at breakfast when a quick ring
at the door-bell was heard, and Mr. Vaughan recognized the voice of one
of his clerks, saying, "I must see Mr. Vaughan without delay, if you

Mr. Vaughan surmised from the tones of the speaker that something had
happened, and hastened to the door.

"Mr. Vaughan," exclaimed the excited clerk, "please come over to the
bank at once. We have been robbed, sir."


"Yes, sir; everything is in confusion. The vault is open, and papers and
securities litter the floor."

It took but a moment to recognize the truth of the clerk's statement.
The vault door was wide open, but the lock had not been injured. The
robbery had been committed by some person who knew the combination of
the lock, or the vault had not been fastened the night before.

Mr. Vaughan discarded the latter idea, for he had tried the vault door
before leaving the bank, and knew that it was locked. There were three
besides himself in the employ of the bank--James Hendrix, the cashier;
Frank Wentworth, bookkeeper and assistant cashier; and John Salters,
general utility clerk, the man who had notified him of the robbery.

Neither Hendrix nor Wentworth had arrived, and Mr. Vaughan requested the
clerk to gather up the papers which were still lying scattered over the
floor, while he endeavored to find a clew to the robbery.

While they were thus engaged the cashier entered, and appeared surprised
to find the president already there.

Mr. Vaughan immediately informed him of the robbery, and noted the look
of indignation and astonishment with which the news was received.

"Hendrix, what was your cash balance last evening?"

The cashier, after consulting the books, replied, "Twenty-eight thousand
five hundred and twenty dollars, fifty-eight cents, of which six
thousand four hundred was in bills, twenty thousand in government bonds,
and the balance in securities and currency."

Mr. Vaughan stepped to the cashier's desk, glanced over the book,
verifying the figures, and was about turning away, when his eye caught
the edge of a paper protruding from the right-hand drawer of Wentworth's
desk, which adjoined that of the cashier.

Without saying a word or attracting attention to his movements, the
president quietly drew the paper from the drawer and gave it a glance as
he put it in his coat pocket.

It was a thousand-dollar government bond.

At this moment Frank Wentworth entered the bank with a pleasant
"Good-morning." As he passed behind the rail which separated the
customers' side from the working office he noticed the eyes of the
president fixed upon him with a stern expression entirely new to him.

"Wentworth, I would like to see you in my office immediately," said the

When they had entered the little room, Mr. Vaughan closed the door, and,
looking Wentworth in the eye, said:

"Frank, the bank has been robbed of a large sum of money, exactly how
much we do not know until these securities have been examined and

Wentworth's face became crimson, for the president's manner implied more
than the mere words conveyed.

"You were the last one to leave, were you not?"

"Yes, sir; but everything was safe and sound when I left. I tried the
vault door after putting on my hat and coat, and I am positive it was
securely locked."

"Are you equally positive in regard to the front door after you had
passed out?"

"Yes, sir; I turned the knob repeatedly; the door was closed and

"You have no theory to offer as to how the robbery was accomplished?"

"Why, Mr. Vaughan! how should I know anything more about it than
yourself? Was the vault door open?"

Without replying, the president said, "Step to the door and call Mr.
Hendrix and Mr. Salters."

Frank did as he was bidden.

"Each of you has a private drawer in your desk of which you retain the
key. The bank has lost a large sum of money, and we must be willing to
clear ourselves of the suspicion which might attach, in view of the fact
that the vault combination is unknown to any person outside this room.
You will hand me your keys, and come with me to the outer office while I
perform a most unpleasant duty."

Hendrix's desk was first inspected; then Salters's; but nothing found to
implicate them.

Mr. Vaughan next opened Frank's private drawer, and there, directly in
front, lay two of the government bonds and a number of bills of
different denominations.

Wentworth's face became ashen, his knees trembled, and he gasped for
breath. Presently, however, he looked Mr. Vaughan squarely in the eye,
and exclaimed, "Mr. Vaughan, in spite of what we see, and what you
doubtless think, I do not know how the bonds came there."

The president did not reply. He tried the keys of the others' desks in
Wentworth's lock, and neither would fit.

"Mr. Hendrix, you will call an officer; my duty is plain; I cannot evade

As the cashier went out of the door, Mr. Vaughan turned to Wentworth,
who had sunk into a chair, covering his face with his hands, and said:

"Frank, I could not feel much worse if this had been against my own boy
Will. Your father was a director of this bank, and my friend for years.
It is a mercy that he did not live to see this day."

Wentworth made no answer; the power of speech appeared to have forsaken
him. He did not lift his head nor utter a sound until Hendrix appeared
with an officer.

Mr. Vaughan explained the situation, and Frank was led away in custody.

Consternation fell upon Frank's friends and acquaintances, for the
evidence was so overwhelming that his simple denial of any knowledge of
the matter had no weight with the majority. His mother and sister,
together with the members of the camera club, formed a small minority
who believed him innocent.

Will Vaughan was untiring in his efforts to console Mrs. Wentworth and
her daughter Alice, and did his best to keep Frank's spirits up. What
could he do, however, to stem the tide of public opinion? Again and
again he besought Frank to discover some tangible clew to the robbery.
Frank had racked his brain in the effort to do so, without avail.

Tom Wetherby returned to his home in New York early on the morning of
the day following the storm. He knew nothing of the robbery until weeks
afterwards, when a long letter from Will Vaughan arrived, detailing the
terrible plight of Wentworth, and rehearsing all the circumstances.

"Too bad! too bad!" muttered Tom, as he finished the letter. "I don't
believe Wentworth guilty any more than Will does. His face is as honest
and open as the day."

Will's letter called the lightning plates taken at Whitonville to mind,
and he determined to do so now; accordingly he went up to his dark-room
and was soon as busy as a bee. One after another the plates were
developed, fixed, and washed, until plate-holder No. 7 was reached. Tom
hesitated as he drew the slide and removed the plate from the holder.

"Oh, pshaw!" he exclaimed, "what's the use of bothering with this one?"
for he remembered with a smile the wild grab for the camera and the
dazzling flash that came before he could straighten the tripod.

"I don't suppose there's anything on it--but here goes, for fun,

He popped it into the tray, poured the developer over it, and awaited
results. After a while the image began to show, and little by little the
detail came out.

"Hello! what's that?" Tom's eyes fastened on the negative with
astonishment. His face assumed an expression of intense interest, for
moment by moment the image grew stronger and stronger. With the utmost
care he completed the process, and then, opening the dark-room door,
flew down the stairs two steps at a time, tore into his bedroom, grabbed
Will's letter from the desk, and read the concluding paragraph as

"My heart aches for Frank and his mother and Alice. I don't believe one
word of the charge against him; but, like all the rest of his friends,
am powerless to help him. The trial comes off on the 18th."

"The 18th, and to-day is the 17th! It's a close call, but it's got to be
done, and I'll do it," cried Tom, in a whirl of excitement.

He hurried to the telephone in the library, called up his father's
office in the lower part of the city, and while waiting for the
connection looked at his watch. It was quarter of three o'clock. Then
the customary "Hello!" came over the wire.

"Please tell Mr. Wetherby to come to the 'phone."

"Who are you?"

"His son Tom; I want to speak to father."

Presently Mr. Wetherby called back, "Well, Tom, what is it? Hurry up;
I'm busy!"

"Father," shouted Tom, his voice betraying the excitement he was under.
"I must go to Whitonville to-night. I think I've got something which
will help Will Vaughan's friend who is accused of robbing the bank."

"My son, hadn't you better wait until I get home and talk the matter
over with you?"

"Can't wait, father; to-day is the 17th; Wentworth's trial takes place
to-morrow. The only train which would get me there by noon to-morrow
leaves at four o'clock this afternoon--about an hour from now."

Buzz-z-z went the 'phone.

Mr. Wetherby was probably thinking about it. He knew Tom was a pretty
level headed young man, and felt convinced that his son had something of
material importance to the case.

The break seemed an age to Tom, and he called over the 'phone

"Well, father, can I go?"

"Yes, Tom. I think I can rely on your judgment. If you haven't money
enough for the journey, explain matters to your mother, who will supply
you. Be sure and write me full particulars, and come home as soon as

When the four-o'clock express rolled out of the Grand Central Depot that
afternoon, Tom Wetherby was aboard, and in his grip was the plate that
came out of holder No. 7, and a bromide print therefrom.

       *       *       *       *       *

The court-room at Whitonville was crowded to suffocation. Never before
had such widespread interest been manifested in a criminal case in that

Frank Wentworth was known and liked by everybody, and the astonishment
and grief at his predicament were universal.

Hendrix testified to quitting the bank about five o'clock in the
afternoon, leaving the president and Wentworth still there.

Mr. Vaughan testified to his departure a few minutes after the cashier,
and that Wentworth was still at his desk.

Frank, in his own defence, accounted for every moment from the time he
left the bank until he entered it next morning; but the fact that he was
the last to leave the building after remaining there alone half an hour
weighed heavily against him.

No one but the Almighty and Frank himself could know what took place in
the interim, and the lawyers sought in vain to bridge over the fatal
half-hour which succeeded Mr. Vaughan's departure.

The case finally went to the jury, and a verdict of guilty was
reluctantly rendered in accordance with the facts.

The District Attorney moved for sentence, and Frank was directed to take
his place before the bar, when a commotion occurred at the door of the

Some one was evidently trying to force his way through the crowd.

For a moment all was confusion, and the judge rapped savagely for order.

All this time a young man was making the best of his way towards the
bench. It was Tom Wetherby. Without looking to the right or left he
kept his eye fixed upon the judge, and raised his hand in token of a
desire to be heard.

Judge Dalton, recognizing that something of import must be responsible
for this unprecedented proceeding, calmly awaited Tom's approach.

At length he reached Wentworth's side before the bar, and speaking
earnestly, said: "I believe, your honor, I have in my possession
evidence which will clearly establish the innocence of the prisoner. I
have travelled all the way from New York to bring it to you, and reached
Whitonville less than half an hour ago. If you will let me give the
evidence to the prisoner's counsel before you take further action, I
think you will be satisfied with the truth of my statement."

The required permission was given, and every eye in the room was fixed
on Tom while he hurriedly told his story to the lawyer and produced his
negative and print.

A consultation followed between Frank's lawyer, the District Attorney,
and Judge Dalton.

Presently the judge turned to the jury and said, "In view of the fact
that new evidence of importance has been presented to me, the District
Attorney recommends the reopening of the case; I therefore set aside the
verdict rendered, and ask your further consideration of the matter."

The excitement of the spectators was intense. Frank's lawyer promptly
called Tom to the stand.

Tom testified to the facts we already know, and took his seat.

"Mr. Hendrix," said the lawyer, turning to the cashier, who occupied a
seat among the witnesses for the people, "will you take the witness
chair for a few moments?"

Hendrix started as though he had been shot, but rose and made his way to
the stand.

"Will you tell us, Mr. Hendrix, where you were between the hours of nine
and ten o'clock on the night of the robbery?"

"I was at home."

"Did you not leave the house at all that evening?"

"No, sir; it was a very stormy night, and I did not go out."

"You are perfectly sure of this?"

"Certainly. I did not leave my house."

"Mr. Hendrix, will you look at this picture and tell me if you recognize
the person it represents?"

Hendrix took the bromide print from the lawyer's hand, and saw--the
entrance of the Whitonville Bank; a man was just issuing from the door;
one hand was on the knob in the act of closing the door, while the other
hand was holding his hat firmly on his head to prevent its being blown
away; the man's face was clearly distinguishable; _it was himself_!


The effect upon the guilty man was pitiful. He shook with fear; his head
dropped upon his breast, and the picture fell from his nerveless grasp
to the floor.

The lawyer quickly handed the print to the jury, and then turning to the
judge, said: "Your honor, our side of the case has been presented. We
have finished."

The jury promptly acquitted Frank, who was surrounded by friends eager
to congratulate him on his wonderful escape.

Tom was the hero of the hour, and received compliments enough to turn
the head of any fellow less modest and unassuming.

Hendrix's story is quickly told. Speculation, losses, peculation in
small sums to make good the losses, and finally robbery to cover the
petty thievings. He made a full confession--told how he put the bonds in
Frank's drawer to avert suspicion from himself, using a duplicate key to
open the drawer. He is now undergoing a long term of imprisonment in

Frank Wentworth is the new cashier of the Whitonville Bank, and enjoys
the friendship and regard of the entire community.





Alaric Todd's sensations as he sat on that log and watched the ship in
which he was supposed to be a passenger steam away without him were
probably as curious as any ever experienced by a boy. He had
deliberately abandoned a life of luxury, as well as a position that most
people are striving with all their energies to obtain, and accepted in
its place--what? He did not know, and for the moment he did not care. He
only knew that the Sonntaggs were gone beyond a chance of return, at
least for some weeks, and that during that time there was no possible
way in which they could reach him or communicate with his family.

He realized that he was in a strange city, not one of whose busy
population either knew or cared to know a thing about him. But what of
that? If they did not know him they could never call him by the hated
name of "Allie." If he succeeded in making friends, it would be because
of himself, and not on account of his father's wealth. Above all, those
now about him did not know and should never know, if he could help it,
that he was thought to be possessed of a weak heart. Certainly if
excitement could injure his heart, it ought to be completely ruined at
the present moment, for he had never been so excited in his life, and
doubted if he ever should be again.

With it all the lad was filled with such an exulting sense of liberty
that he wanted to jump and shout and share with every passer-by the
glorious news that at length he was free--free to be a boy among boys,
and to learn how to become a man among men. He did not shout, nor did he
confide his happiness to any of those who were coming up from the wharf,
where they had just witnessed the departure of the great ship; but he
did jump from the log on which he had been sitting and fling his
baseball high in the air. As it descended and he caught it with
practised skill, he was greeted by the approving remark: "Good catch!
Couldn't do it better myself!" and looking round he saw the lad with
whom he had passed ball a short time before.

"It seems mighty good," continued the stranger, "to see a baseball
again, and meet a fellow who knows how to catch one. These chaps over
here don't know anything about it, and I've hardly seen a ball since I
left Massachusetts. You don't throw, though, half as well as you catch."

"No," replied Alaric, "I haven't learned that yet. You see, I've only
just begun."

"That so? Wish I had a chance to show you something about it, then, for
I used to play on the nine at home."

"I wish you could, for I want awfully to learn. Why can't you?"

"Because I don't live here, and, do you know, I didn't think you did,
either. When I saw you awhile ago, I had a sort of idea that you
belonged aboard the _Empress_, and were going in her to China, and I've
been more than half envying you ever since. Funny, wasn't it?"

"Awfully!" responded Alaric. "And I'm glad it isn't true, for I don't
know of anything I should hate more than to be going to China in the
_Empress_. But I say, let's stop in here and get something lo eat, for
I'm hungry--aren't you?"

"Of course I am," laughed the other; and with this the two boys, who
were already strolling toward the city together, turned into the little
road-side bake-shop that had just attracted Alaric's attention. Here he
ordered half a sheet of buns, two tarts, and two glasses of milk. These
being served on a small table, Alaric paid for them, and the newly made
acquaintances sat down to enjoy their feast at leisure.

"What I want to do," said Alaric, continuing their interrupted
conversation, "is to get back to the States as quickly as possible."

"That's easy enough," replied the other, holding his tart in both hands
and devouring it with infinite relish. "There's a steamer leaves here at
eight o'clock this evening for Seattle and Tacoma. But you don't live
here then, after all?"

"No, I don't live here, nor do I know any one who does, and I want to
get away as quickly as I can; for I am looking for work, and should
think the chances for finding it were better in the States than here."

"_You_ looking for work?" said the other, slowly, and as though doubting
whether he had heard aright. At the same time he glanced curiously at
Alaric's white hands and neatly fitting coat. "You don't look like a
fellow who is looking for work."

"I am, though," laughed Alaric: "and as I have just spent the last cent
of money I had in the world, I must find something to do right away.
That's the reason I want to get back to the States; but I don't know
about that steamer. I suppose they'd charge something to take me,
wouldn't they?"

"Well, rather," responded the other. "But I say, Mister--By-the-way,
what is your name?"

"Dale--Rick Dale," replied Alaric, promptly, for he had anticipated this
question, and was determined to drop the Todd part of his name, at least
for the present. "But there isn't any Mr. about it. It's just plain Rick

"Well, then, plain Rick Dale," said the other, "my name is Bonny
Brooks--short for Bonnicastle, you know; and I must say that you are the
most cheerful appearing fellow to be in the fix you say you are that I
ever met. When I get strapped and out of a job I sometimes don't laugh
for a whole day, especially if I don't have anything to eat in that

"That's something I never tried, and I didn't know any one ever did for
a whole day," remarked Alaric. "How queer it must seem!"

"Lots of people try it; but they don't unless they have to, and it don't
seem queer at all," replied Bonny, soberly. "But what kind of work are
you looking for, and what pay do you expect?"

"I am looking for anything I can find to do, and will work for any pay
that is offered."

"It would seem as if a fellow ought to get plenty to do on those terms,"
said Bonny, "though it isn't so easy as you might think, for I've tried
it. How do you happen to be looking for work, anyway? Where is your
home, and where are your folks?"

"My mother is dead," replied Alaric, "and I suppose my father is in
France, though just where he is I don't know. Our home was in San
Francisco, and before he left he tried to fix things all right for me;
but they turned out all wrong, and so I am here looking for something to

"If that don't beat anything I ever heard of!" cried Bonny Brooks, in a
tone of genuine amazement. "If I didn't know better, I should think you
were telling my story, or that we were twins; for my mother is dead, and
my father, when last heard from, was on his way to France. You see, he
was a ship Captain, and we lived in Sandport on Cape Cod, where, after
my mother died, he fixed up a home for me with an aunt, and left money
enough to keep me at school until he came back from a voyage to South
America and France. We heard of his reaching Brazil and leaving there,
but never anything more, and when a year passed Aunt Nancy said she
couldn't support me any longer. So she got me a berth as cabin-boy on a
barque bound to San Francisco, and then to the Sound for lumber to
China. I wanted to go to China fast enough, but the Captain treated me
so badly that I couldn't stand it any longer, and so skipped just before
the ship sailed from Port Blakely. The meanest part of it all was that I
had to forfeit my pay, leave my dunnage on board, and light out with
only what I had on my back."

"That's my fix exactly," cried Alaric, delightedly. "I mean," he added,
recollecting himself, "that my baggage got carried off, and as I haven't
heard from it since, I don't own a thing in the world except the
clothing I have on."

"And a baseball," interposed Bonny.

"Oh yes, a baseball of course," replied Alaric, soberly, as though that
were a most matter-of-fact possession for a boy in search of employment.
"But what did you do after your ship sailed away without you?"

"Starved for a couple of days, and then did odd jobs about the river for
my grub, until I got a chance to ship as one of the crew of the sloop
_Fancy_, that runs freight and passengers between here and the Sound.
That was only about a month ago, and now I'm first mate."

"You are?" cried Alaric, at the same time regarding his young companion
with a profound admiration and vastly increased respect. "Seems to me
that is the most rapid promotion I ever heard of. What a splendid sailor
you must be!"

Although the speaker was so ignorant of nautical matters that he did not
know a sloop from a schooner, or from a full-rigged ship, for that
matter, he had read enough sea stories to realize that the first mate of
any vessel was often the most important character on board.

"Yes," said Bonny, modestly, "I do know a good deal about boats; for,
you see, I was brought up in a boating town, and have handled them one
way and another ever since I can remember. I haven't been first mate
very long, though, because the man who was that only left to-day."

"What made him?" asked Alaric, who could not understand how any one,
having once attained to such an enviable position, could willingly give
it up.

"Oh, he had some trouble with the Captain, and seemed to think it was
time he got paid something on account of his wages, so that he could buy
a shirt and a pair of boots."

"Why didn't the Captain pay him?"

"I suppose he didn't have the money."

"Then why didn't the man get the things he wanted, and have them

"That's a good one," laughed Bonny. "Because the storekeeper wouldn't
trust him, of course."

"I never heard of such a thing," declared Alaric, indignantly. "I
thought people could always have things charged if they wanted to. I'm
sure I never found any trouble in doing it."

"Didn't you?" said Bonny. "Well, I have, then," and he spoke so queerly
that Alaric realized in a moment that he had very nearly betrayed his
secret. Hastening to change the subject, he asked:

"If you took the mate's place, who took yours?"

"Nobody has taken it yet, and that's what I'm after now--hunting for a
new hand. The Captain couldn't come himself, because he's got rheumatism
so bad that it's all he can do to crawl out on deck and back again.
Besides, it's the first mate's place to ship the crew, anyhow."

"Then," asked Alaric, excitedly, "why don't you take me? I'll work hard,
and do anything you say."

"You?" cried Bonny, regarding his companion with amazement. "Have you
ever sailed a boat or helped work a vessel?"

"No," replied Alaric, humbly; "but I am sure I can learn, and I
shouldn't expect any pay until I did."

"I should say not," remarked the first mate of the _Fancy_, "though most
greenhorns do. Still, that is one thing in your favor. Another is that
you can catch a ball as well as any fellow I ever knew, and a chap who
can do that can learn to do most anything. So I really have a great mind
to take you on trial."

"Do you think the Captain will agree to it?" asked Alaric, anxiously.

"Of course he will, if I say so," said Bonny Brooks, confidently; "for,
as I just told you, the first mate always hires the crew."



During the conversation just recorded the boys by no means neglected
their luncheon, for both of them had been very hungry, and by the time
they arrived at an understanding in regard to Alaric's engagement not a
crumb of food nor a drop of milk was left before them. While to Bonny
Brooks this had proved a most welcome and enjoyable repast, to Alaric it
marked a most important era of his life. To begin with, it was the first
meal he had ever paid for out of his own pocket, and this alone was
sufficient to give it a flavor that he had never discovered in the rich
food by which his appetite had heretofore been tempted.

Then during this simple meal he had entered upon his first friendship
with a boy of his own age, for the liking that he had already taken for
Bonny Brooks was evidently returned. Above all, during that brief lunch
hour he had conducted his first independent business operation, and now
found himself engaged to fill a responsible position in active life. To
be sure, he was only taken on trial, but if good intentions and a
determination to do his very best could command success, then was his
position assured. How fortunate he was, after all! An opening, a chance
to prove what he could do, was all that he wanted, and behold! it was
his within the first hour of his independent life. How queer that it had
come through his baseball too, and how strangely one thing seemed to
lead to another!

Now Alaric was impatient for a sight of the vessel that was to be the
scene of his future labors, and anxious to begin them. He had so little
idea of what a sloop was that he even wondered if it would be propelled
by sails or steam. He was inclined to think that it must be the latter,
for Bonny had spoken of his craft as carrying passengers, and Alaric had
never known any passenger boats except such as were driven by steam. So
he pictured the _Fancy_ as a steamer, not so large as the _Empress_, of
course, but fairly good-sized, manned by engineers, stokers, stewards,
and a crew of sailors. With this image in his mind, he regarded his
companion as one who had indeed attained a lofty position.

So busy was our hero with these thoughts that for a full minute after
the lads left the bake-shop he did not utter a word. Bonny Brooks was
also occupied with a line of thought that caused him to glance
reflectively at his companion several times before he spoke. Finally he
broke out with:

"I say, Rick Dale, I don't know about taking you for a sailor, after
all. You see, you are dressed altogether too fine. Any one would take
you for the captain or maybe the owner if you were to go aboard in those

"Would they?" asked Alaric, gazing dubiously down at his low-cut
patent-leather shoes, black silk socks, and light trousers accurately
creased and unbagged at the knees. Besides these he wore a vest and
sack-coat of fine black serge, an immaculate collar, about which was
knotted a silk neck-scarf, and a narrow-striped cheviot shirt, the cuffs
of which were fastened by gold sleeve-links. Across the front of his
vest, from pocket to pocket, extended a slender chain of twisted gold
and platinum, at one end of which was his watch, and at the other a gold
and platinum pencil-case.

"Yes, they would," answered Bonny, with decision; "and you've got to
make a change somehow, or else our bargain must be called off, for you
could never become a sailor in that rig."

Here was a difficulty on which Alaric had not counted, and it filled him
with dismay. "Couldn't I change suits with you?" he asked, anxiously. "I
shouldn't think mine would be too fine for a first mate."

"Not if I know it," laughed Bonny. "They'd fit me too much one way and
not enough another. Besides, they are shore togs any way you look at
'em, and not at all the things to go to sea in. The Cap'n would have a
fit sure if you should go aboard dressed as you are. So if you want to
ship with us, I'm afraid you'll have to buy a new outfit."

"But I haven't any money, and you say they won't charge things in this

"Of course they won't if they don't know you; but you might spout your
ticker and make a raise that way."

"Might what?"

"Shove up your watch. Leave it with your uncle, you know, until you
earned enough to buy it back."

"Do you mean sell it?"

"No. They'd ask too many questions if you tried to sell it, and wouldn't
give much more, anyway. I mean pawn it."

"All right," replied. Alaric. "I'm willing, only I don't know how."

"Oh, I'll show you quick enough, if you really want to do it."

As Alaric insisted that he was willing to do almost anything to procure
that coveted sailor's outfit, Bonny led him to a mean-looking shop,
above the door of which hung three golden balls. The dingy windows were
filled with a dusty miscellany of watches, pistols, and all sorts of
personal property, while the opening of the door set loose a musty odor
of old clothing. As this came pouring forth Alaric instinctively drew
back in disgust; but with a sudden thought that he could not afford to
be too fastidious in the new life he had chosen, he conquered his
repugnance to the place, and followed Bonny inside.

A gaunt old Hebrew in a soiled dressing-gown stood behind a small
counter. As Alaric glanced at him hesitatingly, Bonny opened their
business by saying briskly:

"Hello, uncle! How are you to-day? My friend here wants to make a raise
on his watch."

"Led's see dot vatch," replied Mr. Isaacs, and Alaric handed it to him,
together with the chain and pencil-case. It was a fine Swiss
chronometer, with the monogram A.D.T. engraved on its back; and as the
pawnbroker tested the quality of its case and peered at the works,
Alaric noted his deliberate movements with nervous anxiety. Finally the
man said,

"I gifs you den tollars on dot vatch mit der chain und pencil trown in."

Alaric would have accepted this offer at once, but Bonny knew better.

"Ten nothings!" he cried. "You'll give us fifty dollars, uncle, or we'll
take it down to Levi's."

"Feefty tollar! So hellup me grashus! I vould be alretty bankrupted of I
gif feefty tollars on effery vatch. Vat you dake me for?"

"Take you for an old fraud," replied the unabashed first mate of the
Fancy. "Of course you would be bankrupted, as you ought to have been
long ago, if you gave fifty dollars on every turnip that is brought in;
but you could well afford to advance a hundred on this watch, and you
know it."


"Vell, I tell you. I gifs t'venty-fife."

"Fifty," said Bonny, firmly.

"Dirty, und not von cent more, so hellup me."



"We'll split the difference, and call it forty-five."

"I gifs you fordy oud of charity, seeing you is so hart up."

"It's a bargain," cried Bonny. "Hand over your cash."

"How could you talk to him that way?" asked Alaric, admiringly, as the
boys left the shop, he minus his watch and chain, but with forty dollars
and a pawn-ticket in his pocket.

"I couldn't once," laughed Bonny, "but it's one of the things poor folks
have to learn. If you are willing to let people impose on you they'll be
mighty quick to do it, and the only way is to bluff 'em from the start."

The next place they entered was a sailors' slop-shop, in which were kept
all sorts of seafaring garments and accessories. Here, advised by Bonny,
Alaric invested fourteen dollars and seventy-five cents in a blue knit
jersey, or sweater, a pair of stout woollen trousers, two flannel
shirts, two suits of heavy underclothing, several pairs of cotton socks,
and a pair of canvas shoes.

Expressing a desire to make a change of clothing at once, he was shown a
retired corner where he might do so, and from which he emerged a few
minutes later so altered in appearance that it is doubtful if his own
father would have recognized him.

"That's something like it!" cried Bonny.

"Isn't it?" replied Alaric, surveying himself with great satisfaction in
a mirror, and fully convinced that he now looked so like a sailor that
no one could possibly mistake him for anything else. "Don't you think,
though, that I ought to have the name of the sloop embroidered across
the front of this sweater? All the sailors I have ever seen had theirs
fixed that way."

"I suppose it would be a good idea," replied Bonny, soberly, though
filled with inward laughter at the suggestion. "But perhaps you'd better
wait until you see if the ship suits you, and whether you stay with us
or not."

"Oh, I'll stay," asserted Alaric. "There's no fear but what I will, if
you'll only keep me."

"Going yachting, sir?" asked the shopkeeper, politely, as he carefully
folded Alaric's discarded suit of fine clothing.

"No, indeed," replied the boy, scornfully. "I'm going to be a sailor on
the sloop _Fancy_, and I wish you would send these things down to her at

Ere the man could recover from his astonishment at this request
sufficiently to reply, Bonny interrupted hastily:

"Oh no, Rick! we'll take them with us. There isn't time to have 'em

"I should guess not," remarked the shopkeeper, in a very different tone
from the one he had used before. "But, say, young feller, if you're
going to be a sailor you'll want a bag, and I've got a second-hand one
here almost as good as new that I'll sell cheap. It come to me with a
lot of truck from the sale of a confiscated sealer; and seeing that it's
got another chap's name painted on it, I'll let you have it for one bob
tuppence-ha'penny, and that'll make even money between us."

Thus saying, the man produced a stout canvas bag, such as a sailor uses
in place of a trunk. The name plainly painted across it, in black
letters, was "Philip Ryder"; but Alaric said he didn't mind that, so he
took the bag, thrust his belongings, including his cherished baseball,
into it, and the two boys left the shop.

"By-the-way," asked Alaric, hesitatingly, "don't I need to get some
brushes and things?"

"What for!"

"Why, to brush my hair, and--"

"Oh no," interrupted the other. "There's a comb on board, and, besides,
we can't stop for anything more. I've been gone so long now that I
expect the old man is madder'n a wet hen by this time."

So Bonny led the way to the wharves, and to a narrow slip between two of
them that just then was occupied by but a single craft. She was a small
sloop, not over forty feet long, though of good beam, evidently very
old, and so dingy that it was hard to believe she had ever been painted.
Her sails, hanging unfurled in lazy jacks, were patched and discolored;
her running rigging was spliced, the standing rigging was sadly in need
of setting up, her iron-work was rusted, and her spars were gray with

"There's the old packet," said Bonny, cheerfully.

"Where?" asked Alaric, gazing vaguely down the slip and utterly ignoring
the disreputable craft close at hand.

"Why, right here," answered the other, a trifle impatiently. "Don't you
see the name _Fancy_ on her stern? She isn't much to look at, I know,
but she's a hummer to go, and a mighty good sea-boat. She's awfully
comfortable, too. Come aboard and I'll show you."

With this the cheery young fellow, who had actually come to a belief
that the shabby old craft was all he claimed for her, tossed his
friend's recent purchase to the deck of the sloop, and began to clamber
after it down a ricketty ladder.

With all his bright visions of a minute before rudely dispelled, and
with a heart so heavy that he could find no words to express his
feelings, Alaric followed him.




The animals we have spoken of live on grass or other vegetation, and
their ability to exist depends primarily on their ability to cover
enough pasture ground to ensure sufficient food. Their dinner always
awaits their coming. With the fox and wolf the question is more serious,
for they live on flesh, either of animals or of fish. The long silky
hair makes the arctic fox beautiful in winter, and, indeed, quite the
whole year, for in the farthest north his color remains quite unchanged
from a snowy whiteness. They are much smaller than the common fox, the
total length, including the bushy tail, varying from two to three feet,
and their weight is from eight to twenty pounds; in late winter,
however, some do not weigh over five pounds. As the arctic ptarmigan has
feet quite clothed with fine feathers as a protection against cold, so
the arctic fox needs for the soles of his feet the thick covering of
hair that earns for him the designation of _lagopus_ (hairy).

After fifteen years' experience in South Greenland, Dr. Rink, fully
recognizing the craftiness of the fox, but also knowing the great
difficulty of obtaining animal food, says: "How these little fellows are
able to find food necessary to support life during eight months of the
year at the northern fiords remains somewhat of a mystery. Hares and
partridges are scarce, and seem unable to yield sufficient food for the
foxes. In summer the fox seeks the water's edge for mussels or other
food there exposed at low tide. He follows the seal-hunter, whether he
be man or bear, for the drops of blood or bits of skin and meat yielded
by the chase."

In Boothia Felix, Captain Ross found that he burrows and accumulates
supplies. He says: "One of their burrows was discovered on the sandy
margin of a lake; it had several passages, each opening into a common
cell, beyond which was an inner cell, where the young, six in number,
were taken. In the outer cell, and in the several passages leading to
it, we found a great number of the two species of lemmings, several
ermines, and the bones of hares, fish, and ducks in great quantities."

In the extreme north the difficulties of life for the fox greatly
increase. Shell-fish disappear, seal as a rule migrate for the winter,
and the hunting season shortens wofully with the lengthening winter.
Moreover, in Grinnell Land the fox cannot burrow, for the earth never
thaws more than a foot or two. However, the cunning animal utilizes
nooks and crevices as dens and store-houses. The theory advanced by
Professor Newton that the foxes of Spitsbergen lay up in summer a store
of food for winter use has been confirmed as to the foxes of North
Grinnell Land and Greenland.


In 1876, near the 83d degree of north latitude, Colonel Feilden shot a
fox who, with his mate, occupied a lair in a hillock of broken rocks.
"While resting," says Feilden, "we noticed that numerous dead lemmings
were scattered around. In every case they had been killed in the same
manner--the sharp canine teeth of the foxes had penetrated the brain.
Presently we came upon two ermines killed in the same manner. Then, to
our surprise, we discovered numerous deposits of dead lemmings; in one
hidden nook under a rock we pulled out a heap of over fifty. We
disturbed numerous _caches_ of twenty and thirty, and the ground was
honeycombed with holes, each of which contained several bodies of these
little animals, a small quantity of earth being placed over them. In one
hole we found the greater part of a hare hidden away. The wings of young
brent-geese were also lying about, and as these birds were at that date
only just hatching, it showed that they must have been the results of
successful forays of prior seasons, and that consequently the foxes
occupy the same abode from year to year."

It appears evident that the hoarding of supplies is peculiar to the fox
of North Grinnell Land, for two we held in captivity regularly hid such
portion of their food as was not needed for immediate consumption, and
it was also noted that the fox was an unusually frugal eater. Curiously
enough, our captive foxes would not hide anything while being watched,
and a piece of meat has been allowed to lie on the snow undisturbed for
half an hour or more while persons were around; but leaving the fox for
only four or five minutes, it would be found, upon returning, that the
piece of meat had been carried to a corner, a hole dug in the snow, and
the surface so carefully restored that it was difficult to notice any

One of the foxes, under gentle treatment, became quite tame, and
permitted us to handle him, although he always caught the advancing hand
and gently applied his teeth, as if to give warning that he was not to
be trifled with. When stroked he seemed pleased, and gave forth a
purring noise very like that uttered by a contented cat. He would not
tolerate the bringing of the face near to, nor blowing at him,
invariably jumping at the person so offending.

The other fox, an old female, proved vicious and intractable. Despite
kind treatment, every effort to handle her resulted in serious bites.
She was kept chained, but made such frequent and violent shows of anger,
at times bordering on madness, as compelled us to kill her. She never
showed any signs of fear, and neglected no effort to free herself. She
was confined in a lean-to, at the door of which the Eskimo dogs gathered
for their daily food. Whenever a dog was in sight, Miss Fox put on a
bold front, showed her teeth threateningly, and emitted a series of low
growls, somewhat of a modification of the shrill barks the fox usually
indulges in. Several of the half-grown dogs rushed in on her, one at a
time and on different occasions, but the fox met the attacks with such
courage that the puppies retreated, one of them howling dismally at his
wounded muzzle, in which the fox had deeply inserted her sharp teeth.
The tame fox broke his chain and made a burrow in the snow wall that
surrounded the house. As daylight was then continuous, and there were
about thirty dogs around the quarters, it was thought that the fox would
fear to attempt an escape. After ten days, however, he took the chances,
and successfully ran the gauntlet of Eskimo dogs.

Doubtless the female fox has the hardest life, her energies being
severely taxed in caring for her young. She is always in poorer flesh
than the male, and as a rule she is much more vicious, and less amenable
to kindly treatment.

An instance of the endurance and possibly the craft of the arctic fox
may be cited in the experience of Biederbick, one of our expedition, who
put a bullet through a fox and apparently killed him. Failing to reload
his gun, the expectant hunter went forward to pick up his prey. To his
great astonishment and chagrin, as he neared the wounded animal the fox,
lamed and bleeding, sprang up and ran off at such a pace that he

It may be added that the arctic fox, while noted for his courage and
endurance, is not skilled against traps or pitfalls, but shows a
proneness to be caught that borders at times on stupidity.

[Illustration: THE ARCTIC WOLF.]

The white-skinned, large-limbed wolf is the most ravenous, untiring, and
dangerous of all arctic animals. Its tireless gallop, sharp teeth,
snappish bites, and powers of a concerted action with its own kind make
it possible for this predacious animal to live wherever game of any
considerable size is to be found. In Grinnell Land he subsists almost
entirely on the musk-oxen, who find their only safety by travelling in
bands. When attacked they form a circle, and placing their calves and
feeble members in the centre, by opposing horns and desperate bellowings
stand off the encircling wolves. Woe, however, to the straggling ox who
falls in with wolves, for he never escapes.

In his widely read narrative, Kane most unjustly disparages the strength
and prowess of the arctic wolf. He says: "The Eskimo dogs of Smith Sound
encounter the wolf fearlessly and with success." There is absolutely no
foundation for this statement. Kane never saw a wolf either in southern
Greenland or in the Smith Sound region, for this animal is unknown in
Greenland, save one drifted from the American coast and killed at Omenak
in the winter of 1868-9.

In truth the arctic wolf is relatively the strongest, as he is in fact
the most courageous and enduring of arctic animals, and these qualities
are supplemented by unusual craft and caution. They average some twenty
pounds greater weight than the dog, which animal views their appearance
with terror, realizing his small chance of safety in an encounter. The
single wolf tempers his desperate courage with caution, and so rarely
attacks man. Indeed, he uses such good judgment that there are not half
a dozen instances in the annals of arctic expeditions where the hunter,
matching his wits and efforts against those of the beast, has succeeded
in shooting a wolf. When wolves assemble in packs they seem to act
without any fear of consequences whenever the community interests of the
pack demand it. They seem to realize that by concerted action the pack
is bound to prevail, and they accept the chances of death very much the
same as a soldier does when sharing the dangers of a victorious charge.

The British expedition of 1875 to Grinnell Land saw several wolves
following a herd of musk-oxen, on which the wolves of that region
subsist. Despite repeated efforts the sportsmen could not get within
three or four hundred yards of these very wary animals. Later a single
wolf followed Colonel Feilden's sledge for several days, but such was
the cunning displayed by the beast that all efforts to get a shot at him
failed. Very greatly to our surprise, in September, 1881, a large band
of wolves appeared on the harbor floe near our house at Lady Franklin
Bay. They were eighteen in number, and while they showed no signs of
timidity, yet their discretion was such that none of our many expert
hunters were able to get within gunshot. While this wariness is in
keeping with the general habits of the arctic wolf, which has been
rarely killed by sportsmen, yet it seems surprising when we reflect that
these wolves could never have been hunted, and doubtless had never seen
any animal, save the polar bear, which could injure them.

The tenacity with which arctic animals hold to life was frequently
instanced in our experience, and the thought occurred that it arose from
the survival of the strongest and hardiest individuals in a clime where
nature ever seems at strife with nature's life. A few days later two of
our hunters ran across a pack of wolves, of which two were shot, but
both escaped. A rifle-ball went completely through the body of one
animal, which bled profusely. The wolf was followed for several hours by
its trail of blood on the snow, but it finally escaped. Later, a single
wolf came within one hundred yards of our house, and in the early
twilight was for a time mistaken for one of the dogs, who were much
disturbed. He was eventually pursued by several hunters, and was shot
through the body by Lieutenant Kislingbury. Knocked down by the ball,
the wolf lost in a few minutes at least a cupful of blood. He was chased
for some time, his blood marking his path, but no one got within
gunshot. He was let alone for several hours in hopes that he would die,
but, pursued by the hunters later, he travelled on, stopping and waiting
as did his pursuers. Leaving drops of blood in the snow, he kept walking
out of gunshot, until he fell down dead with his body substantially

As the repeated efforts of our best huntsmen failed to further diminish
the number of the pack, it became necessary to resort to other means of
offence, for our interests were too important to be neglected. The
terror and dismay of our dogs promised their destruction, and with their
loss was involved our future sledging trips. Again, the health of the
party depended largely on the herds of musk-oxen, which the wolves were
running down. Acknowledging ourselves beaten as man against beast, we
resorted to poison. Here we were surprised at their craft and caution.
Different poisons skilfully arranged in meat were visited and left
untasted by the animals. Eventually, by mixing good and bad meat
together, we succeeded in killing four wolves; but on more than one
occasion the animals ate all the good meat and left the poisoned. While
the remaining wolves gave anxiety to us, yet this was not unmixed with a
certain feeling of satisfaction that a brute of such courage, endurance,
and craft had been able to hold his own against man, as he had against
nature in her sternest mood.



This drill, used regularly, will be found of advantage in giving grace
and freedom to the movements of the body, and a better command of the
muscles most needed in every-day work and play. In order to learn them
correctly the exercises should be taken slowly at first. When learned,
fifteen minutes per day is all that is needed for a "drill." Each motion
is made a certain number of times, usually from four to eight, and
should be done vigorously and steadily.

Begin by assuming the "correct position," which must be rigidly
maintained during the drill, only excepting those parts of the body in

Toes at right angles; heels together, with weight upon balls of feet;
legs stiff; abdomen well back; chest out; shoulders back and down; arms
stiff at sides; chin slightly in; slight forward incline of whole body.

_Head and Neck._--Bend the head forward upon the chest, and then up
again to erect position; bend the head backward, and then erect; to the
right side, and then erect; to the left, and then erect; "twist" it,
looking over right shoulder, and then back again to position; around to
the left, and again to position; "roll," dropping head upon chest; roll
it toward the right side, around to back, continuing to the left, and
back to front position. Reverse this roll.

_Shoulders._--"Shrug" shoulders up, shrug forward, shrug back; roll,
going up, to the back, down, and then forward. Reverse this roll.

_Arms._--With arms stiff at sides, twist them in their sockets, toward
the front, toward the back; bending the elbows, rest clinched hands upon
chest; thrust arms forward to full extent, and back to position; out to
sides, and back to position; straight down, and back to position;
straight up, over the head, back and to place, always with even, steady,
continuous motion.

_The Hands._--Extending arms straight in front, and afterward to the
sides, and then upward, open and close fingers to fullest extent. Shake
the hands at the wrists. Up; down; to the sides; then with a rolling
motion; slowly, and then faster.

_The Chest._--Keeping the shoulders well back, and holding the breath,
raise and lower the muscles of the chest.

_The Abdomen._--Raise and lower, forward and back, the muscles of the
abdomen. Learning to contract these muscles and to hold them back in
position is a great help to a good carriage.

_The Diaphragm._--Raise and lower diaphragmatic muscles, enlarging this
part of the body to widest extent in each motion.

_Hips._--Lifting stiff leg slightly from the floor, twist it at the hip
toward the front; twist it toward the back; lifting the leg in same
manner, "roll" it at hip-joint, working it to full extent, up, forward,
down, and back. Leg motions, of course, must be taken, one side of the
body, and then the other, alternately.

_Legs._--Raise "stiff" leg forward and out, and then back to place; out
to side, toward the back, and to place; flex leg at knee, and thrust
forward and up quickly; flex and thrust to the side; flex and thrust to
back; unhinge leg at hip and swing; out in front, to the side; across in
front toward the back, and to position; swing in a circle, around and
across in front, then around toward the back.

_The Ankles._--Holding leg stiff in front, work the foot at ankle, up,
down, to the right side, to the left; shake and twist feet, and "roll"
them, doing part of the work with a reverse motion; rise on the toes,
with a regular motion, and then slower, holding the body balanced on the
toes for a few seconds.

_Further Balance-work._--Throwing the weight of the body on the ball of
one foot, lift the other leg, and flexing at knee, describe circles,
moving the leg from the knee only.

_Step._--Pointing toe, and arching instep, and with stiff leg; to the
front, and back to place; to the side; to the back; across at back.

These motions, out of a large number, were selected for their simplicity
and usefulness for regular daily exercise.



The fame of Ducardanoy and Bouchardy spread through Algeria. Tho methods
by which they had deceived and despoiled the Arab tribes gradually
became known, and threats of vengeance coming to their ears, they
decided that it was no longer safe to dwell so near the Sahara and its
wild tribes, and they removed to the northern side of the Atlas. But
even in their new home they were destined to encounter the power of the
Shiekh of the Mountain of Singing Sauds, though not in a way that
menaced their personal safety.

It was at the close of the Mohammedan fasting season of Ramadan that the
great Arabian magician Ali Ben Mesrour came to town. Bouchardy, who
attended all of his performances, declared his feats to be easy of
execution, and their mechanism readily detected by the most unobserving.
Ducardanoy was inclined to attribute this to professional jealousy; but
when the magician began to cure the halt and lame among the Arabs of
grievous corns and bunions, he too denounced Ben Mesrour as a bungler
and a charlatan. Hearing of the criticisms of the two experts, the Arab
sage gravely sent them a challenge. He announced that if they dared to
give him a trial he would appear at their house, and by a certain
magical process change the one into a dromedary and the other into a
mule, and he agreed that in case of failure there should be forfeited
two five-franc pieces of silver, which he would deposit with the
commandant of the garrison previous to the trial. Two five-franc pieces
were nothing to the chiropodist and the prestidigitator, grown
exceedingly wealthy with the prudent investment of the results of their
late encounters with the Arabs, but they hailed with pleasure the
prospect of amusing themselves at the expense of the magician.

The lamps had been lighted an hour when Ali Ben Mesrour was ushered in
to begin the process of transforming Ducardanoy into a camel and
Bouchardy into a mule. He was attired in a robe of dark red silk, and
upon his head was the green turban that indicates descent from the
Prophet. Upon the side of the turban a white aigrette was fastened by a
single emerald, and about his neck was hung a long gold chain.
Ducardanoy and Bouchardy received him with great courtesy, and
profoundly salaaming, conducted him to a divan resting against a heavy
portière. The magician sat down, and the divan instantly flattened out
beneath him. He leaped to his feet, whereupon the divan promptly resumed
its former shape.

"I beg pardon for the conduct of the divan," said Ducardanoy. "Sit down
in this chair," and Ben Mesrour sank down in a huge arm-chair, which
rose beneath him and dropped him to the floor.

"Why, what's that on your turban?" exclaimed Bouchardy, and he reached
forward and took from Ben Mesrour's head a white rabbit and a pair of
doves. Bang! and the turban flew up in the air, and then settled back
again, and Bouchardy further relieved it of a frog and a large carrot.

"What a number of things you carry around with you!" said Bouchardy.
"Have a smoke?" and he handed him an amber mouth-piece holding a
cigarette, which, being lighted, began to lengthen out and curl and
twist into the semblance of a long and writhing snake.

"Bismillah!" grunted Ben Mesrour.

"What a man you are! Your breath changes a cigarette into a snake. But
if you can't smoke, have something else. Try this sherbet," said
Bouchardy, bringing out a long goblet of silver gilt. The magician
raised the goblet to his lips, when there was a sudden whir, and a
bright blue flame leaped up into his face.

"Mashallah!" he cried, dropping the goblet, which instantly exploded
with a loud report.

"All our little attempts at hospitality seem to fail," said Bouchardy,
with mock chagrin. "Have something to eat. Try this peach."

"No," said Ben Mesrour, waving a remonstrance; "it is time to make a
mule of you. The five-franc pieces have been deposited with the
Commandant. Let us begin. Stand upon this hassock, if you please, and I
will turn you into a mule."

"The first thing I shall do when I become a mule will be to kick you
good," said Bouchardy.

"We'll see about that," said the magician, and starting at Bouchardy's
ankles, he began to knead his legs, and proceeded over his entire body,
kneading, patting, and thumping him, all the while crooning a low chant
in Arabic. Having finished Bouchardy, he left him standing on the
hassock, and turned to Ducardanoy and repeated the process. An attendant
then handed him a chafing-dish in which a few coals were burning, and
withdrawing to the middle of the room, he threw a powder upon the coals.
A great opaque white cloud, stifling and acrid, arose and filled the
room, and from the midst of the cloud came the voice of Ali Ben Mesrour,
shouting: "Accursed, the Shiekh of the Mountain of Singing Sands is
avenged. I have made beasts of you."

In a moment the cloud drifted away, and the magician and his attendant
had vanished.

"Made beasts of us?" said Bouchardy. "Well, he didn't make a mule of me.
Look at that," and he held up the emerald from Ben Mesrour's turban and
the gold chain from his neck. "When I saw that spiteful old fellow
trying to turn me into a beast, and evidently thinking he was doing it,
I decided to punish him by taking his jewelry."

"If it is not too late, let us have in a few friends to celebrate the
successful outcome of our third encounter with Arabs striving to injure
us," said Ducardanoy.

"It is not too late," said Bouchardy, reaching for his watch. A look of
surprise swept over his face. The watch was not there. And his trousers
pocket was empty of the purse it contained a few hours before, and a
diamond stud was gone from his shirt front, and as for the emerald and
chain, which he now scrutinized in attempting to console himself, both
were cheap imitations worth only a few sous at most. Gone was
Ducardanoy's watch, too, and a roll of bank-notes, and a gold
match-safe. They ran into the hallway for their hats to start in pursuit
of Ben Mesrour. Gone were their hats. Gone were the rugs from the floor,
the divans, the pictures, the ormulu clock, the onyx tables, the silver
and china ware, the books--everything in the house that was easily
movable. They rushed into the streets, and in a moment were seeking Ben
Mesrour with a squad of soldiers. Ali Ben Mesrour? His caravan had left
the town two hours ago, on the way to Morocco. But Ben Mesrour himself
had not gone an hour ago, Ducardanoy and Bouchardy declared. The people
knew naught of that. The magician's caravan had gone, and the people
thought he had gone with it. Away went the pursuing party, riding out on
the road toward Morocco, and in a short time they overtook a man riding
upon a mule, accompanied by a closely veiled woman riding upon a camel.

"There he is," cried Ducardanoy. "That woman is Ben Mesrour disguised.
Drag him down."

"Hold," said the French sergeant, glancing around at his troopers, all
native Algerians. "Do you propose to strip the veil from the face of a
woman?" he continued, in a whisper. "Such an outrage of Mohammedan
customs would cause these men to fall on us at once, and the town would
rise to-night. We must let them proceed without interference."

Reluctantly Ducardanoy and Bouchardy turned back toward town with the
soldiers. The man on the mule shouted something after them in Arabic.

"What did he say?" asked Bouchardy.

"He said," replied the soldier, "that he and his wife were riding on a
mule and a camel presented to him by the magician Ali Ben Mesrour, which
same were formerly the Messieurs Ducardanoy and Bouchardy, transformed
into their present shape by his magic arts."

"That is not true," said Bouchardy, "for the magician Ali Ben Mesrour
made mules of both of them."


From instantaneous Photographs of Ernest H. Cady.

[Illustration: 2.]

[Illustration: 1.]

[Illustration: 4.]

[Illustration: 3.]

[Illustration: 6.]

[Illustration: 5.]

[Illustration: 8.]

[Illustration: 7.]

[Illustration: ERNEST B. CADY.]


There are two distances for hurdle races which have become recognized by
the Intercollegiate Associations and the larger athletic clubs as the
standards for this event. The shorter distance is 120 yards, the race
being run over ten hurdles, 3 feet 6 inches high, placed ten yards
apart, the first and last obstacles being respectively fifteen yards
from the starting and the finishing lines. The longer distance is 220
yards, the ten hurdles in this case being 2 feet 6 inches high, twenty
yards apart, and the first and last respectively twenty yards distant
from the start and finish. These two events are usually spoken of as the
"high hurdles" and the "low hurdles," the distances being invariably
understood as given above.

Hurdling requires skill, strength, spring, nerve, and a cool head; and
to become a fast hurdler you must devote several years of hard and
faithful practice in this particular event. The training for a beginner
should be begun in the gymnasium in the winter, with light calisthenics,
rising on the toes, rising on the heels, raising the legs, and
practising the double jump on the toes. This double jump is a peculiar
exercise, and consists of raising one leg, bent at the knee, forward,
and the other leg, bent at the knee, backward, alternating the legs at
each jump; this serves to limber the muscles that are used in hurdling,
and also helps to lengthen the stride. An occasional short jog out of
doors on fair days, and light all-round work in the gymnasium, for
general physical development, should be made a part of this preliminary
training. One of the best exercises that a hurdler can possibly indulge
in is to dance up and down on the spring-board for ten or fifteen
minutes every day. This develops that very necessary quality of spring
and suppleness.

When the out-door training season begins, the first two or three days
should be spent in jogging up and down the track. After that take
occasional sprints of thirty or forty yards, without practising the
start. On the third day practise the start two or three times, and try
clearing one hurdle about three times. On the fourth day do the same
thing. On the fifth day place two hurdles on the track at their proper
distances, and negotiate them two or three times. On the sixth day
repeat this performance with three hurdles. After this first week of
out-door practice, whenever the hurdles are being jumped, the athlete
should rush at them with his utmost speed from the proper distances, so
as to become accustomed to them. The general training for a hurdler
should be about the same as that undertaken for the 100 and 220 yard
dashes, as described in this Department on February 25th.

After three weeks of this kind of preliminary work, the high hurdles may
be placed in position, and the hurdler may try going over the whole
distance on time; but he should never attempt this move than once or
twice a week, doing his daily work over not more than three hurdles.
There are two things of vital importance for the hurdler to work at in
order to acquire speed; he should drive himself as fast as he can go
from the crack of the pistol until he stops running, and each hurdle
should be rushed at as if it were the last.

[Illustration: FIG. 1.]

Speed between the hurdles is of the utmost importance. The secret of
obtaining this lies in starting the foot, which has crossed last over
the hurdle, forward for the first step before the forward foot has
reached the ground, thus making the first step after the jump a very
short one, yet a very quick one. This is a difficult movement to learn,
but the athlete will find that it will lower his time perceptibly if he
can master it. The instinctive act upon landing after the leap is to
take a long stride forward with the view of covering distance. But the
athlete must restrain this inclination and force himself to take a short
step, even if he has to work over it for months, or he will never be
able to acquire skill or speed as a hurdler. That first short step after
clearing the hurdle gives the runner his impetus, and the other two
steps easily follow. The third step is shorter than the second in order
that the runner may gather himself slightly for the spring over the next

[Illustration: FIG. 2.]

The ideal distance between steps in a high-hurdle race is shown in the
accompanying diagram (Fig. 1). The runner alights about 7 feet 6 inches
from the obstacle, and then takes the short quick step already mentioned
(4 feet 10 inches); then he makes a long step (5 feet 10 inches), and
then another short step (4 feet 4 inches), which brings him within 7
feet 6 inches of his next hurdle, and he makes that spot his take-off. A
fatal fault of many hurdlers is to bring the forward foot down in such a
way as to cut off the length of the jump, as shown in Fig. 2. The first
foot should be made to shoot as far forward as possible along an
imaginary line, as shown in Fig. 3.

[Illustration: FIG. 3.]

As the last hurdle is cleared, the head should be thrust forward as the
athlete lands on the ground, and so held, for this will greatly aid in
the sprint for the tape. There is a difference of opinion among the best
men in this event as to whether the standing start or the crouching
start is the better. Those who take the upright start assert that they
can get off quicker and are in a better condition to take the first
hurdle, which is only fifteen yards away, and say that it is difficult
to rise to the proper jumping position in such a short run. Those who
favor the crouching start deny this. This is a case where each
individual must decide for himself which method he prefers. Another
vital point that must be observed is to rush for the first hurdle with
the utmost speed, for the way in which the first obstacle is reached and
cleared often decides the race. A hurdle race is a constant drive from
start to finish.

The hurdles should be cleared by as narrow a margin as possible. From
the standpoint of speed it is better to strike the top bar lightly
rather than to clear it by several inches, for this margin makes a loss
of time. The athlete shown in the illustrations is E. H. Cady, and these
photographs give a very good idea of the position a man should train
himself to assume when clearing the sticks. The eighth illustration
gives a very good idea of the distance of the landing-spot from the
hurdle, as shown also in the diagram. The single thing which requires
probably the greatest practice is to get the exact length of stride for
the various steps between hurdles. A good way to get this is to mark
these spots on the ground, and then go over the hurdles, lighting on
these spots, until the stride has become absolutely natural.

The first annual in-door games of the Long Island Interscholastic
Athletic Association brought out a good crowd of athletes from the two
cities, and although no records were broken, the sport was good, and
each event was well contested. Everything went off promptly and sharply
except the pole-vault, which was not started until after five o'clock,
and dallied along for almost two hours. Even so, it resulted in a tie
that had to be settled by the toss of a coin. Forney, Hurlburt, and Eddy
kept abreast until the bar reached 9 feet, and there Eddy dropped out.
The other two then struggled for first place, breaking every bar the
committee could furnish. Two broken ends were spliced to keep up the
contest, but the imperfect bar sagged so deeply at the centre that it
was impossible to tell how high (or low) the mark was, and finally
Forney and Hurlburt split the points, and tossed for the medal, luck
favoring the former.

Berkeley won the banner offered to the school taking the greatest number
of points, the scores of the contesting teams being as follows:
Berkeley, 21; Barnard, 18; St. Paul's, 12; Brooklyn High, 8; Pratt
Institute, 6; Pingry's, 5; Adelphi, 4; Drisler's, 4; Cutler's, 3:
Oxford, 3; Alling Art, 1; Brooklyn Latin, 1; De La Salle, 1; Poly.
Prep., 1; Stevens Prep., 1; Hamilton Institute, 1. The struggle for
points was reduced to a duel between Barnard and Berkeley very early in
the afternoon, St. Paul's being the only other team that made any kind
of a showing.

Irwin-Martin, of Berkeley, had an easy thing of it in the quarter-mile,
taking the lead from the start; Hipple of Barnard likewise had his own
way in the half-mile, although he misjudged his pace, and failed to make
as good time as was expected of him. Moore, of course, made a double win
in the dashes, for there is probably no better sprinter in the New York
and Brooklyn schools than he. Berkeley depended on Armstead for five
points in the Junior 75-yards, but although he won his heat, he met a
better man in the finals. This was Robinson of St. Paul's, who proved so
far superior in speed to any of his rivals that we may well count on
hearing from him as a first-class man in the near future.

The hurdles furnished a surprise in the defeat of Beers by Bien. The
latter was a little awkward in his trial heat, but when he started in
the finals he showed much better form. Beers, on the other hand, was all
out of shape, bungled over the first obstacle, and took a cropper at the
second. Beers always has been a better man out-of-doors than in, but he
will have to look to his laurels at the Interscholastics this spring.

The mile run took five points off Barnard's forecast. Bedford had been
counted a pretty sure winner, in spite of the fact that Manvel of Pingry
was on hand. The two ran pretty evenly for half the distance, but toward
the end the Jerseyman displayed more wind and staying power, and spurted
for the finish, crossing the line well ahead of Bedford.

There have been a number of scholastic in-door games in and about Boston
the past month, and about the most interesting feature of each has been
the team race. I was sorry not to see a team race at the Long Island
games a week ago. Such races are always exciting, and create a great
amount of enthusiasm, the interest being shown for the school rather
than for the individual athlete.

The enthusiasm of some of the English High-School team's supporters at
the E.H.-S. games recently was so reckless that one young man thrust a
hurdle across the path of a rival racer. The E.H.-S. men won the team
race easily by about forty yards, but some one in the crowd upset a
hurdle in front of Lincoln, the second Boston Latin runner, and of
course the race had to be awarded to the Latin School on the foul. Fouls
seem to be frequently the result of the enthusiasm that breaks loose
over a team race--especially in Boston. On this same occasion there was
a race between teams representing the right and left wings of the school
regiment, and it proved exceedingly close. There was not three yards of
floor between any two of the runners, and finally Ober, the fourth man
for the right wing, won by only a few inches. But a foul gave the prize
to the left-wing team. I only mention these incidents to show how very
exciting team races are; for fouls are very infrequent at
interscholastic contests; yet when it comes to a relay race, enthusiasm
seems to get the better of both competitors and spectators, and
frequently the referee has to step in and assert his authority.

The Cambridge High and Latin School games followed some days later, and
as there were a number of open events, several Harvard men, old
interscholastic athletes, entered and kept the younger men up to their
best efforts. There were so many entries that the 20-yard dash had to be
run off in twelve heats, with a second round of four heats and a final.

The Boston Latin School's games had no open events, the contest being
entirely among the classes. McGuire of last year's football team made a
record for himself by winning the 30-yard dash in 4-1/5 sec.; the
35-yard hurdles in 5-1/5 sec.; the 300-yard run in 46-2/5 sec.; the pole
vault with a leap of 8 ft. 4 in.; and by captaining the winning team in
the relay race. McGuire is a good all-round man.

The entries for the big games at the Madison Square Garden on the 28th
will have a most cosmopolitan character. I spoke recently of the
Connecticut athletes who intended to compete, and I have heard that
several Bostonians are in training for the occasion. The Central
High-School of Philadelphia also expects to send representatives. It is
likely that the team will be composed of Frazier, Mekenson, and Hunt in
the sprints; Thomas, Hunt, Frazier, and Freeland in the relay race;
Thomas, Freeland, and Hunt in the half-mile; Thomas and Rutschman in the
mile; the Gillender brothers in the walk; F. Gillender, Halderman, and
Bay in the shot, and Buckley and Eyre in the high jump.

It is reported that St. Paul's School, of Garden City, is making
arrangements to withdraw from the Long Island Interscholastic A. A., and
join the new organization recently formed by Lawrenceville, the Hill
School, and a number of other large institutions, which from their
situation may properly be called "country schools." It seems to me that
St. Paul's is doing the right thing in joining the new league, for at
present it is competing with institutions not at all of its own class in
many respects. St. Paul's will doubtless at first be the weakest member
of the new league, but that should not be a reason for discouragement.

In the revised constitution of the New York Interscholastic A.A. a
penalty of $5 has been fixed for the forfeiting of any league contest.
This law should be strictly enforced, for there has been too much
forfeiting of games by teams that thought they stood no chance of
winning, and had not sufficient sporting spirit to appear upon the field
and do their best. If the five had been made double the amount, this
would not have been too severe a punishment. As it is, the treasury of
the N.Y.I.S.A.A. will doubtless reap considerable benefit during the
coming baseball season, if matters go as they went in the past. The
difficulty may now come in collecting the fines. It may be found
advisable to insert a by-law which shall make the fine for forfeiture
payable within a certain very limited period--say, before the date of
the next game scheduled for that team to play--on penalty of suspension.
Such suspension should be made to apply to the members of the offending
team, not to the school. The players who then found themselves debarred
from participating in other sports--track athletics, for
instance--would soon see that the fine was paid, and after one such
experience they would probably abstain from forfeiting.

     ALBERT GEORGE, JUN., NEW YORK.--The ROUND TABLE will offer no
     All-round Sports Medal this year.

     PERCY HOLDSWORTH, ROCKVILLE CENTER, L.I.--An approximately accurate
     table of interscholastic records was published in the ROUND TABLE
     of July 9, 1895. Since then several of these records have been
     broken, and another table will not be prepared until later in the

     J. M. ALLEN, MARINETTE, WIS.--Hints on training for the 100 and 220
     yard dashes were published in HARPER'S ROUND TABLE of February 25,
     1896; for the half-mile run, in HARPER'S ROUND TABLE of March 3,
     1896; for the high jump, in HARPER'S ROUND TABLE of July 30, 1895.


[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.

Among the pictures sent to our recent photographic competition were some
not eligible for entry in any of the classes for which prizes were
given, but which were such fine specimens of amateur work that they
deserve more than a mere mention of subject and artist. There were
several excellent animal studies, a class of pictures which requires
special skill in order to be successful. Mr. Louis H. Flanders, of
Chicago, Ill., with other examples of good work, sent two--one was the
head of a Jersey cow, evidently without a flaw in the negative; the
other, to which no name was given, might appropriately be called
"Waiting for the Master." A large shepherd dog is sitting on his
haunches, holding in his mouth the bridle of a horse, which stands, like
the one in the nursery rhyme, "All saddled, all bridled, all fit for a
ride." The surroundings--a drive leading to a barn in the
background--are in keeping with the picture. This is one of the most
natural animal studies which it has ever been the good fortune of the
editor to examine.

Another good animal study, which is called "Friends," was made by Mr.
Orville Bassett, of New Bedford, Mass. The friends were a shepherd dog
and a handsome cat lying side by side on the grass. Mr. Huber Hoge, of
Brooklyn, N.Y., sent an animal study entitled "Fallen Majesty"--a
picture of an enormous lion in a cage; an unusual subject, and well
taken. Miss Bertha Lothrop, of Riverton, N.J., sent a picture of a pug
dog and a good natured looking cat playing together--"Playmates."
Franklin M. Conant, Providence, R.I., and W. Yost, of Cumberland, Md.,
both sent good studies of cats, and Mrs. Claud Gatch, Salem, Or., sent a
picture of a dog family, entitled "A Good Square Meal." A characteristic
Southern picture was sent by Lieut. W. C. Davis, Fortress Monroe, Va.
While this picture was not as sharp in detail as might be desirable, the
subject was very amusing. A ragged colored boy was holding by a rope
halter the framework of a horse--it could be called nothing more--and
"De Price is Fifteen Dollahs, Sah," was the appropriate title to the

Some fine photographs of unusual subjects were received, among which was
one sent by Mr. C. H. Voorhees, of New York city, of a flash of
lightning. It is one of the best pictures of lightning that could be
made, the effect in the picture being exactly what one sees on a summer
night when a flash of what is called "chain lightning" crinkles across
the sky, the landscape being faintly outlined instead of illuminated as
in the broad flashes. Photographs of lightning have revealed one mistake
of the artist, and that is that lightning never assumes the jagged
streaks with sharp angles which one sees in drawings of lightning. The
electric fluid runs in curved lines, and looks something like outlines
of rivers in map-drawings.

Two beautiful cloud effects were submitted. "Day is dying in the West,"
is the title of one taken by Mr. Newell B. Edson, of Portland, Me. The
clouds are very artistically shaded, and show no halation, as is apt to
be the case in most cloud pictures. This picture would make a fine
bromide enlargement. The other cloud effect was sent by Warfield T.
Longcope, Baltimore, Md., and is entitled "Moonlight." It is a harbor
scene, and the outlines of the wharves and shipping show dimly, while
the moonlight, breaking through the clouds, shines across the water.
Mrs. George Conn, of Black Diamond, Wash., sent a picture of a snow
scene, the snow looking like the real article and not like chalk, as is
often the case with photographs of snow.

       *       *       *       *       *


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Reader: Have you seen the

* Franklin *

It is a Collection which no one who loves music should fail to own; it
should find a place in every home. Never before, it may truthfully be
said, has a song book been published at once so cheap, so good, and so
complete.--_Colorado Springs Gazette._

* Square *

This Song Collection is one of the most notable enterprises of the kind
attempted by any publisher. The brief sketches and histories of the
leading productions in the work add greatly to the value of the
series.--_Troy Times._


Sold Everywhere. Price, 50 cents; Cloth, $1.00. Full contents, with
Specimen Pages mailed, without cost, on application to

Harper & Brothers, New York.

[Illustration: Copyright, 1896, by Harper & Brothers.]

[Illustration: BICYCLING]

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

Some time ago we published in this Department a series of maps giving
the trip from New York to Albany along the east bank of the Hudson
River. Before taking up the question of Chicago maps it will be wise to
extend the route from Albany somewhat further into New York State. To
begin this, we give this week a map of the city of Albany itself. The
wheelman approaching Albany from New York will cross the Hudson at South
or Greenbush Bridge. After crossing into the city, turn right into
Broadway, and proceed along Broadway until State Street is reached at
the Post-office. Turning left into State Street, go on to North Pearl
Street, stopping at the Kenmore Hotel.

The city of Albany is not by any means a bicyclist's paradise. The roads
that are asphalted in the city are few in number, though there are here
and there single blocks paved in this way, which, of course, do not
prove of any value to the wheelman. From the Kenmore Hotel, if you
desire to go northward, the best method is to go through Pearl Street to
Broadway, run out Broadway to the Loudonville Plank Road, turn left into
this, and proceed on towards Loudonville. This is the road to Buffalo.
To leave Albany on the south, the rider should make for Madison Avenue
as directly as possible, proceeding by State Street and Eagle Street. To
turn immediately south, Madison Avenue is left at Delaware Avenue. To
run in a more westerly direction, Madison Avenue is left at Lake Avenue,
which runs into New Scotland Plank Road. These are merely exits from
Albany. As for any riding in the parks or streets in Albany for
pleasure, it is quite impossible. The only possible runs are direct from
Albany out to some neighboring town and back, and of these the run to
Newtonville, Latham Corners, Centre, and Watervliet is the best.
Evidently the Albany authorities have not yet become aware of the
importance of bicycling, for when they do the streets of the city will
be paved in asphalt with more care as to continuous routes than at
present. There are more asphalted streets in the city than are marked on
the accompanying map, but few of them extend more than one block, and
none of them carry you to any definite point. They are of no use to the
wheelman, therefore, unless he is riding to some particular house within
the city, when it is, of course, some help to be able to take advantage
of even one block of this pavement.

There is little to delay the wheelman in Albany if he is on a trip from
New York or Boston to Buffalo and Niagara. The city, apart from its
Capitol, is not one that you would naturally choose for sight-seeing,
and with a good night's rest the wheelman is advised to go on his way
rejoicing that he has not got to pedal over more badly paved streets.
The Capitol, however, is well worth a visit; and as it is close at hand
from the Kenmore Hotel, one is advised to go there and look at the
artistic and architectural work put upon it.

     NOTE.--Map of New York city asphalted streets in No. 809. Map of
     route from New York to Tarrytown in No. 810. New York to Stamford,
     Connecticut in No. 811. New York to Staten Island in No. 812. New
     Jersey from Hoboken to Pine Brook in No. 813. Brooklyn in No. 814.
     Brooklyn to Babylon in No. 815. Brooklyn to Northport in No. 816.
     Tarrytown to Poughkeepsie in No. 817. Poughkeepsie to Hudson in No.
     818. Hudson to Albany in No. 819. Tottenville to Trenton in No.
     820. Trenton to Philadelphia in No. 821. Philadelphia in No. 822.
     Philadelphia-Wissahickon Route in No. 823. Philadelphia to West
     Chester in No. 824. Philadelphia to Atlantic City--First Stage in
     No. 825; Second Stage in No. 826. Philadelphia to Vineland--First
     Stage in No. 627; Second Stage in No. 828. New York to
     Boston--Second Stage in No. 829; Third Stage in No. 830; Fourth
     Stage in No. 831; Fifth Stage in No. 832; Sixth Stage in No. 833.
     Boston to Concord in No. 834. Boston in No. 835. Boston to
     Gloucester in No. 836. Boston to Newburyport in No. 837. Boston to
     New Bedford in No. 838. Boston to South Framingham in No. 839.
     Boston to Nahant in No. 840. Boston to Lowell in No. 841. Boston to
     Nantasket Beach in No. 842. Boston Circuit Ride in No. 843.
     Philadelphia to Washington--First Stage in No. 844; Second Stage in
     No. 845; Third Stage in No. 846; Fourth Stage in No. 847; Fifth
     Stage in No. 848. City of Washington in No. 849.

[Illustration: THE PUDDING STICK]

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

Did you ever think of the flowers, how different they are one from
another? And yet each is a flower, each belongs to its own family, each
has its own place in nature, its own little mission to the world, its
time to bloom, its hour to be sweet and to live in the sunshine.

I wonder which is your favorite flower? I used to think the mignonette
was mine; but then when daisies whiten the fields I like them best, and
when lilies shine in the garden I prefer them, and, on the whole, there
are none of the dear things I would like to do without. How nice it is
that there are so many kinds, and how tiresome it would be if they were
all exactly alike!

The flowers have what each of us should have, individuality. We do not
wish the girls in a school to be alike in everything. One day last
October I sat on the platform of a woman's college during the opening
exercises, and in the bright morning watched the long lines of girls
march into the chapel to the sound of the piano. Two by two they came,
dark girls and fair girls, plump girls and thin girls, tall girls and
short girls, as sweet a band as I ever saw, all alert and alive and
eager, and looking as if they never had an ache or a pain, as girls
ought to look who have learned that health and vigor help to make
successful students. They were not like coins stamped in a mint and
precisely alike, though their college was giving each of them its own
stamp of culture and refinement. One may carry this stamp, as the flower
its perfume, and not lose the particular quality of mind and heart which
is her own special distinction. Keeping one's own individuality, one may
yet gain what is best in her school life and hold it.

This is a thoughtful talk for my older girls, and I am going now to give
them three rather long words, which they may use as pegs on which to
hang reflections of their own, or points round which ideas may cluster.
One is development. If you cut an apple through the circumference, as
you cut an orange, you will see in clear outline around the starlike
centre made by the seeds the shape of the blossom. The fruit has grown
from the flower, and the flower's shape is in the heart of the fruit.
The fruit developed little by little through summer days and winter
days, but the flower gave it the start. Take the little thought and use
it, and if you have a gift or grace--a taste for housekeeping, cooking,
sewing, painting, or reading--develop it by use and study and taking

My next long word is responsibility. It means, as we all know, the
answering when we are called, answering to our names. The responsible
person can be trusted. Not long ago, in New York city, a fire broke out
in the upper stories of a great apartment-house. Two young women, one, a
young lady visiting the family in a certain home on the sixth floor of
the house, the other a maid in the same home, were confronted suddenly
with black volumes of smoke, red tongues of flame, and no way of escape
but by the iron ladder that hung along the side of the house. There were
two little children there and some valuable papers, and though the young
women could not save everything, they took the children and the papers
down the fire-escape with calmness and courage. They were _responsible_.

My last word is consecration. It is a very sacred word, and I leave you
to weave your own sweet fancies around it. We must be consecrated to the
best possible ideal, we must fill every day with noble work.

     ANNE B.--Write a formal note of thanks in the third person. It is
     always proper to return thanks for courtesies of every description.

     PERPLEXED MAIDEN.--Your long and thick hair is a very great beauty,
     and you must not complain of it. Of course you are old enough to
     wear it put up, and I wish you would take my advice, and wind it in
     a great coil on the top of your head. I may give the same answer to
     Helen L. R., who is equally perplexed, though as Helen is only
     fifteen she may continue to wear her long braids another year if
     she chooses. Both girls should wash their hair once a month, and
     brush it every night with great care and a clean brush.

     MARY W. L.--In addition to the spelling match, ask your friends to
     lend you their earliest photographs. At a proper time in the
     evening, just before the refreshments if you choose, unveil your
     picture gallery, and let the girls guess the originals of the
     babies on view.

     SALLY R.--Sets of dishes all alike are not necessary. I think a
     variety of pretty dishes quite as interesting and equally as

     LEAH G.--Why not have an old-fashioned candy-pull?

[Illustration: Signature]


21 Experts


compose the Bicycle Council that passes upon each detail of Columbia
construction--engineers, metallurgists, designers, keen-eyed men of
science. And they do no guessing. Back of them is one of the most
complete Departments of Tests in this country. Such accurate scientific
methods must produce standard machines.

[Illustration: Columbia]


Standard of the World.

$100 To all Alike.

Hartford Bicycles are next best.

$80, $60, $50.

The Art Catalogue of Columbia and Hartford Bicycles is free if you call
upon any Columbia agent; by mail for two 2-cent stamps.


Hartford, Conn.

Branches and Agencies in nearly every town. If we are not properly
represented in your vicinity let us know.

[Illustration: HARTFORD]





  _On Bosworth Field_
      _King Richard cried:_
  _"My kingdom for a horse!"_
  _But times have changed--_
      _To-day he'd want_
  _A Monarch wheel, of course._



and a wheel fit for a king. Made in 4 models. $80 and $100. For children
and adults who want a lower price wheel the _Defiance_ is made in 8
models, $40 to $75. Send for Monarch book.




Lake, Halsted and Fulton Sts., CHICAGO

83 Reade Street, New York.

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.


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

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


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

=LOOK HERE, BOYS!= 50 stamps and hinges, 15c.; 100, 25c. Cheaper packets
if you want. Sheets on approval. List sent free. Send Postal Card.

W. C. SHIELDS, 30 Sorauren Ave., Toronto, Canada.


foreign Bolivia, etc., 10c.; 100 different China, etc., 10c. Finest
approval sheet, at 50%. Agents wanted. Large price-list, free.

SHAW STAMP CO., Jackson, Mich.

125 dif. Gold Coast, Costa Rica, etc., 25c.; 40 U. S., 25c. Liberal com.
to agents. Large bargain list free.

F. W. MILLER, 904 Olive St., St. Louis, Mo.

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

=Stamps.= Approval sheets. Agents wanted; 50% com.

G. D. Holt & Co., 155 Pulaski St., Brooklyn, N. Y.


For an Afternoon.

Mrs. Mary B. Miller writes to you: "We originated the following for
entertaining a few young ladies invited to spend an afternoon. A phrase
describes some character noted in history, literature, or art. The
initial letters of words in each phrase are also initial letters of the
character's name. Given the phrase, guess the name. Here are a few that
were used; others may be thought of by you: Able Leader--Abraham
Lincoln; Can Draw Girls--C. D. Gibson; Uncle Sam's Guardian--U. S.
Grant; Wrote Many Tales--W. M. Thackeray; Somebody Famous By
Messages--S. F. B. Morse; Crossed Courageously--Christopher Columbus;
Great Philanthropist--George Peabody; The Big Republican--Thomas B.
Reed; Wise Cultured Bard--W. C. Bryant; Great Warrior--George
Washington; Favors Water--Frances Willard; Betrayed Americans--Benedict
Arnold; Prone To "Blow"--P. T. Barnum; and Was Scotch--Walter Scott."

       *       *       *       *       *

The Antiquary Puzzle.

Some members enjoy knotty kinks. There are not a few in the following
story. See how many you can unravel. No prizes are offered, and you are
not to send answers to us. We will publish the answers in a week or two.
The story was written by a member of our Order. Here it is:

In the early fall of the year (1) in which Captain Cook died I set sail
in the _White Lady of Berlin_ (2) from the Modern Athens (3) for a three
years' trip abroad. The brother of the historian (4) whose name
signifies the long-armed ape had handed me an object the night before,
attached to which was a card reading as follows:

  My name is short--it's in my head.
    Behead me, and consider only
  My threefold nature, and you'll find
    That I'm in yours.
            Yours truly.

I followed the directions, and found a roll of paper containing these

  I once in hour of wicked wrath
    Slew one fourth of this great earth's race.
  I fled o'er plain and mountain path,
    But ne'er could that crime efface.

  In any clime may I be seen,
    Of rustic form or city made.
  I oft conceal a weapon keen;
    Am found in many a street parade.

  To arctic regions cold and drear
    I once did journey years ago.
  My faith was strong, nor was there fear
    Of floating berg or deadly floe (5).

I read the verses to a group of passengers, and one gentleman, a friend
of the musician (6) who never could compose without his diamond ring,
laughed so immoderately that he tripped over a spare mineral (7) that
can box, and broke his leg. The physician (8) who first made use of
chloroform was summoned, and in short order had the tonic plant (9) used
in chills.

I reached Cairo in the month (10) of the gate, and spent five days in
studying the Great Sphinx and its near-by temple. While exploring the
latter I found a secret passage to the Sphinx itself, and there, in a
square excavation, on a massive altar of the stone (11) that is dainty
lay a huge black stone carved to represent the insect (12) worshipped by
the ancient Egyptians. On it was this inscription, which, deciphered,
reads thus:

"I am older than the Earth. I was born in Space. Once I was Fire. Now I
am Stone. Yet no man ever quarried me. I have journeyed to the Sun, yet
the Earth is now my tomb" (13).

After much difficulty I secured the stone for the museum (14) which
contains the Elgin marbles, together with treasures from the Petrified
City (15) and the City of Zenobia (16). I then sailed for England,
reaching Cockagne (17) in March. One day, as I was passing the Old Lady
(18) of Threadneedle Street, I saw a strange bronze-green sign-board
which read, "ANTIQUES." Being interested in antiques I crossed the
street and entered the shop.

An enormous claymore (19) hung by the door, and at a black-oak desk
which had once belonged to Old Noll (20) sat a little weazened man of
kindly look. As I entered he laid down a copy of the Vinegar Bible (31)
which he had been reading, and rose to greet me.

"As I live!" he exclaimed. "You remind me of the Man (22) of Blood.
Where do you hail from?"

"O, I have been visiting old worlds and new," I replied.

"Here are two busts," he went on. "They are of the Laughing Philosopher
(23) and the Weeping Philosopher (24), and the contents of these cases
are worth having. If you can answer my descriptions, they are yours.
Others have tried--and have failed."

He handed me the following rhymes:

  My _first_ was used in Shakespeare's time
    To exorcise the evil one.
  My _second's_ life is spent in toil;
    Reward it never yet has won.
  The wondrous beauty of my _whole_
    May well be praised in poets' verse.
  To purchase it would much reduce
    The contents of the longest purse (25).

  My _first_ is a large reflector,
    Old, but as good as new.
  My _second's_ the bone and sinew
    Of lands that we travel through.
  My _whole_ is little, and lucky, and white;
  Much like my first, but not so bright (26).

I gave up.

"Here is an easy one," he said. "It describes an every-day object, and
is no quiz (27), I assure you, but an honest riddle."

  I was born in the sun, but I lived in the earth.
    I died where I lived, and was buried from sight.
  I rose from the tomb that had long been my home
    To curse or to comfort, destroy or delight (28).

To my surprise my answer was correct.

An image of the Egyptian Mercury (29) brought to mind my recent solution
of the Riddle of the Great Sphinx. The old Antiquary was surely the man
to whom I should open my heart.

"Are you interested in Egypt?" I began. "I have just arrived from Cairo,
and, to be plain, have made a stupendous discovery--I have solved the
Riddle of the Great Sphinx!" And I gave him an account of my discovery
in detail.

The Antiquary seemed to drink in my last words, and in another moment
had dragged me to the back of the shop.

"Man!" he gasped, "do you know what you have done? By this solution you
have the chance of solving another and greater mystery!"

Leading me to a dark corner, the Antiquary lighted a taper and showed me
a narrow door of oak strengthened with iron.

"What is this?" I asked. The Antiquary slipped a roll of parchment into
my hand. I found on it this verse, engrossed in old English characters:


Though I carried the cryptogram back to America with me, it has to this
day remained unsolved--and the Antiquary is dead!

       *       *       *       *       *

A Ute Indian Legend.

     Long years ago the forefathers of the Utes lived near a vast warm
     lake northeast of the Big River (Colorado). Snakes as long as a
     hundred lodge poles were plenteous in this lake. The country was
     full of big trees, big deer, and big oxen with white horns. One day
     all the big oxen began to roar together, and they raised such a
     steam from their nostrils that the earth tottered and trembled and
     the sun was hidden. Then suddenly the warm lake fell and continued
     falling for the space of three moons, and then became so low that
     the Indians saw it not again.

     The big lake of warm water had been drained away. It had gone out
     through the mountains by the present cañon of Green River, and of
     the Big River. The old bed in the Toom-pin-to-weep is where the
     warm lake waters were drained. Next, all the big deer and the big
     oxen with white horns wandered eastward and perished from cold or
     by the arrows of the Ute hunters. Soon after a big flood formed
     Grand River Cañon. After this came a race of small people who
     brought seed corn of a small kind, called Chiquito maize. They also
     brought skin canoes. They had silver and gold in abundance, and
     iron tools which they had gathered in the mountains to the

     These little people were almost white. They built stone houses in
     the cliffs, and cultivated corn, beans, and pumpkins. They taught
     the Utes how to make spears and bows. Soon big red Indians came
     over from the northeast and drove off the little people, who went
     south. The big red men also went away. These were the Apaches,
     Navajos, Kiowas. Down among these tribes were found the big oxen
     with white horns, and the grande lagarios (alligators). By-and-by
     the country became dry and cold, and only the Utes were left on the
     Big River and its branches. Then melted rocks were poured out and
     the country was left desolate.


       *       *       *       *       *

Questions and Answers.

Claude G. Smith, William F. Tillson, Hubbard Marsh, Lawrence Fraley,
Albert R. Bullman, Frances De Berard, Rolfe McCollom, G. Du Bois, and a
score or more others are reminded that the Table has no exchange column,
and cannot publish notices of trades, as of stamps, pictures, addresses,
printing-presses, and the like. We should be happy to oblige members in
this respect, but space does not permit. We do not give the addresses
because improper uses are often made of them by unscrupulous persons.
The only exceptions we make--and these we do not make often--are in
publishing the names of members in far-away countries, since advertisers
rarely use such, and cases where requests are purely educational, as in
getting seeds to plant and study, gathering mosses for a natural history
collection, etc. We repeat that we much regret that we cannot oblige you
in these respects. Charles W. Anderson and Charles Cohen apply for
Patents and give no addresses.

       *       *       *       *       *

James D. Waite: The National Guard of the State of New York is not a
part of the regular army of the United States. It is under the State
control, but may be mustered into the United States service through the
action of the President, who calls upon the States, if need be, to
furnish troops. If your father does not wish you to join the
N. G. S. N. Y., do not do so. Hubbard Marsh, Groton, N. Y., wants to
belong to some literary or similar society having corresponding members.
Write him. Claude G. Smith: There are, just now, no prize offers open.
New ones, when ready, will be announced on this page. The only contest
awards in which have not yet been announced is the Illustration. In that
about 300 young artists are trying to make a picture for a story, a
proof of which has been mailed to them. This contest closes March 21st,
but applications for proofs with permission to enter the contest have
already closed. D. Blondheim: We fear it is a bit late for descriptions
of Christmas entertainments. Better tell us about oysters and the oyster
trade. E. M. Wallace, Monmouth, Ill., and Jay F. Hammond, Harford,
N. Y., want to receive samples of amateur papers.

       *       *       *       *       *

Daniel W. May: We should think old skates could well be made use of in
constructing an ice-boat. Coils in use in the relay and sounder of
telegraph instruments are two in number. The cores are soft iron bars,
and around them there is wound, for the relay, very fine wire that is
covered with silk thread, to perfectly insulate it. The finer the wire,
the more its resistance. The large wire that you see on the poles
connects directly with this fine relay wire. When the electric circuit
is complete, the soft iron bars are magnets; when it is broken, they are
not. Thus is produced a backward and a forward movement of the armature
which opens and closes a second or local circuit, in which is placed the
sounder, having two similar coils, but wound with comparatively coarse
wire. The Century Dictionary describes an induction coil as being
essentially in two parts, one wound over the other. The first, of coarse
wire, is wound about the soft iron bar, and connected with a key for
breaking and closing the circuit. Above it, on the same coil, is wound
very fine wire, carefully insulated from the first, which becomes
magnetic by induction every time the electric circuit is closed. We
advise, for a first attempt, a single coil of fine wire. All wire used
in making coils should be insulated.

[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 as far as possible. Correspondents should address
     Editor Stamp Department.

In the ROUND TABLE for January 21, 1895, I mentioned the fact that
Ecuador had cancelled the contract for "Seebeck" stamps, as unworthy the
dignity of a great nation, etc. It seems that the only change that has
been made is one of name only. Another decree announces the issue of a
commemorative set, for use ten days only, "part of the sum accruing from
the sale to be devoted to the assistance of the families of soldiers
fallen in defence of their country." No collectors of any importance
will touch these stamps, nor will they be catalogued, or space reserved
in any of the albums.

The Post-Office Department will not sell the Periodical stamps either
used or unused, and yet they seem to be easy to get. One dealer in New
York offers a complete set of all the stamps from 1c. to $100, unused,
for $250, and offers to give the source from which he obtained the
stamps. Probably these sets are the complimentary copies sent by the
U.S. government to the P.O. Dept. of the various countries in the Postal
Union throughout the world. There are 175 countries in the Postal Union,
and each of these is entitled to five complete sets of all stamps issued
by each country.

The auction season is in full blast, not only in New York, but also in
Boston, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Chicago, etc. Hardly a day without an
auction somewhere. And as auctions multiply, the quality of the stamps
offered improves. Cheap and common stamps are worth as little to-day as
they were ten or twenty years ago, and it does not pay to sell these in
the auction-rooms. But scarce or rare stamps continue to increase in
value, as demonstrated at each sale. At one sale last week every lot
sold consisted of one stamp only. At another sale two evenings were
given up to the sale of U. S. stamps only. They brought nearly $7000,
and probably had not cost their owner, an old collector, one-third of
the amount.

     R. A. HUNT.--With a few exceptions (Russia, etc.), the way dealers
     take off stamps is simply to soak them in cold water a short time.

     A. T. D.--An "error" is a stamp made by mistake in the color of
     another stamp of the same issue. Any daily newspaper is printed on
     "wove" paper. Most fine writing paper is "laid."


     KERSKY G. WILLIAMS.--The 3c. 1851 U.S., with extra lines on the
     right or left hand side of the stamps, are those from the tenth and
     eleventh vertical rows of the entire sheet. The stamps were printed
     in sheets of 200. These sheets were cut apart into half-sheets of
     100. As a guide to the cutter, the division between the halves was
     made prominent by two extra lines. The 1870-3 varieties of the U.S.
     stamps were illustrated in the ROUND TABLE, September 10, 1895.


[Illustration: Ivory Soap]

"A cold bath is a good tonic and nerve bracer." If Ivory Soap is used,
it is a beautifier as well.




All =Lovers of Art=, who would like to learn =Landscape Painting=, should
get =THE ONLY SELF-INSTRUCTOR IN ART=. Just out. It contains more plain,
practical instruction than you will receive in ten lessons from a
teacher. For particulars write to

W. M. REED, Tyrone, Blair Co., Pa.


sells recitations and PLAYS

23 Winter St., Boston





Roche's Herbal Embrocation.

Tho celebrated and effectual English Cure without internal medicine.
Proprietors, W. EDWARD & SON, London, England.

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


The FINEST SAMPLE BOOK of gold Beveled Edge, Hidden Name, Silk Fringe,
Envelope and Calling Cards ever offered for a 2 cent stamp. These are



Comic return envelopes. Sleight of Hand exposed. List of 500 gifts.
Album of cards. Send 2c stamp for postage. Address Banner Card Co.,
Cadiz, Ohio.


Fascinating Historical Works

  THE BOYS OF '76.

_A History of the Rebellion in Four Volumes:_


     _Nine Volumes. Profusely Illustrated. Square 8vo, Cloth,
     Ornamental, $3.00 each._

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

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

       *       *       *       *       *

Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.

[Illustration: From Chum to Chum]



  LONDON, _July_ --, 18--.

DEAR JACK,--Land at last again, and a beauty at that. It's queer, they
call Ireland the Emerald Isle, but I don't see how it could be much
greener than England is. I never saw anything quite so green in all my
life, not even that small Harris kid up at the Mountain House. You
remember how we took him in on the echo don't you. How it would answer
any question he'd put to it at three minutes past four o'clock on a
foggy fourth of July morning? And how we got up at half past three to
ask it who struck Billie Patterson or some question like that. Well
England is greener than that--Pop says it's what he calls scrub green,
each blade of grass looks as if it had had its face washed five times a
day, it sorter of shines so.

We landed at Southampton Wednesday night after a beautiful sail along
the south coast, up past the Isle of Wight. I was very much surprised at
the size of England. Everybody's said it was only an Island anyhow but
as far as I could see it looks just as big from the outside as the
United States did when we were leaving it. Chesterfield says people are
all wrong who call it an Island. He says it's a vest-pocket continent,
and I guess he knows. It looks to me too big for an Island.


We had a great time when we landed. All our trunks had to be opened by
the Custom House inspectors to see if we had any cologne or cigars in
'em. I don't see why they call them Custom House officers though. Their
costumes weren't anything wonderful. It took Pop a half an hour to get
his trunks all through because he said the inspector didn't know the
language. Pop says he asked him what nation he belonged to and the man
said he was Hinglish and Pop told him he'd never heard of any such
people, where did they live. In Hingland, the man said. Where's that
asked Pop, and the man nearly fainted and then Pop gave him a half a
crown and the man said he guessed he needn't open any more trunks,
because a man as ignorant as he was wouldn't have sense enough to try to
smuggle anything in anywhere.


After the trunks were all passed Pop asked a man where the baggage car
was and that man couldn't speak English either. He asked Pop what, and
Pop says again where's the baggage car, and just then an American that
had been over before says to the man he means the luggage van, and the
man said oh wy didn't ee si so. Pop says he thinks that's Welsh, which
is a language he never liked anyhow. The only welsh thing he ever liked
was a rabbit, he said. Wots your name asked the Baggage man. Drake, says
Pop. Well your van is the seventh car up. It's marked with a D. Do you
know a D when you see it? Pop said he guessed so. He'd seen one once and
he had an idea that it looked like a P without a pedestal or a B cut in
two. That's it, said the man. Well you put your luggage in the van
marked with a P without a pedestal and when you get to London you can go
and claim it. But suppose somebody else claims it said Pop. That's his
affair and yours not mine says the man and he walked off. Then Pop found
out that they don't give checks over here, and he said he guessed the
reason was that they preferred cash.

After we got our trunks on board Pop took me up to see the engine and
you never saw such an engine anywhere outside of a toy-store. It looked
awful small and it only had a little platform at the back for the
engineer to stand in. Pop says the railroads can't afford to furnish
cabs for its engineers. The smoke-stack looked just like a piece of pipe
sticking up in front of the boiler and there wasn't a cow-catcher in
sight, but it had a bully whistle. It was one of those raspy whistles
that makes old people nervous and boys laugh. Pop says a whistle like
that makes a cow-catcher unnecessary because a cow is a quiet sort of an
animal and likes to chew its gum in peace, hating noise; and anyhow the
English people aren't bothering much about catching cows when there's so
many Americans travelling about with money in their pockets to be
caught; and I guess he's right because most everybody here goes around
holding his hand out. Chesterfield told me it would be that way so I
wasn't surprised. He said when you land every hand on the dock will be
stretched out to you but it isn't to welcome you, don't think that. It's
to relieve you of your surplus. I asked him what a surplus was, and he
said it was a collection of rare coins that you didn't need in your
business and when I said I wasn't any wiser than before he said a
surplus was the money you had in your pocket to spend on things you
didn't really need. And it was that way, and I tell you the way Pop
spent six-pences and shillings and half-crowns was a caution. A half
crown is two shillings and a sixpence, but you can bet I didn't spend
mine. All I had left after lending Chesterfield that money I've got yet
and I'm going to keep it until I get to Paris where they have toy shops
that are worth seeing whether you buy anything or not which you
generally do. Why just before we landed Chesterfield was telling me of
an oil-silk lion that he bought in Paris once that saved his life two
years later in the Desert of Sahara.


It was one of those lions you blow up. You can carry it in your pocket
when you haven't any wind in it. Then you take it out, unfold it, blow
it up, fasten up the blow-hole and it looks real terrible, stands up
alone and does everything but gnash his teeth and growl. Chesterfield
was sleeping in the desert one night, when a real lion came his way and
was about to devour him, when, with a sudden perspiration, he remembers
the toy lion in his pocket, takes it out, blows it up, sets it down
before the real lion, who, reckonizing his match retreats, but
immediately returns. Of course the oil-silk lion remains cool. He hasn't
got any nerves to get excited on. The real lion roars. The oil-silk lion
says nothing. The real lion advances. The oil-silk lion doesn't say a
word. The real lion gets mad. The oil-silk lion stays cool. The real
lion hits him with one paw. The oil-silk lion just bounces and does
nothing. The real lion hits him with his other paw and the oil-silk lion
just bounces again and does nothing. But then the real lion hits him
with both paws a tremenjus whack and the oil-silk lion busts like a
blown-up grocer's bag with a report like a caution, which so scares the
real lion that he's running yet. Eh? How would you like a toy like that?


It's getting so late now that Pop says I must go to bed, but to-morrow
I'll write again and tell you how we got up to London and what I've seen
so far.

Yours ever, BOB.

*** End of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "Harper's Round Table, March 10, 1896" ***

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translation, optical character recognition or other areas where access to a
large amount of text is helpful, please contact us. We encourage the use of
public domain materials for these purposes and may be able to help.

+ Keep it legal -  Whatever your use, remember that you are responsible for
ensuring that what you are doing is legal. Do not assume that just because
we believe a book is in the public domain for users in the United States,
that the work is also in the public domain for users in other countries.
Whether a book is still in copyright varies from country to country, and we
can't offer guidance on whether any specific use of any specific book is
allowed. Please do not assume that a book's appearance in Doctrine Publishing
ISYS search  means it can be used in any manner anywhere in the world.
Copyright infringement liability can be quite severe.

About ISYS® Search Software
Established in 1988, ISYS Search Software is a global supplier of enterprise
search solutions for business and government.  The company's award-winning
software suite offers a broad range of search, navigation and discovery
solutions for desktop search, intranet search, SharePoint search and embedded
search applications.  ISYS has been deployed by thousands of organizations
operating in a variety of industries, including government, legal, law
enforcement, financial services, healthcare and recruitment.